Just so that you don't miss camp....

Lately cooking had become.... drudgery. Still love to eat, though. Then I started browsing through epicurious.com, and I can usually find something there that I feel like eating. Or I should say, cooking then eating. There's a difference.
There are lots of things out there that I'd love to eat, but don't want to cook. Like anything that it takes more than one sheet of paper to print the instructions for, or that has a list of ingredients more than 2 or 3 inches long. And there are lots of ethnic foods that would require MORE spices. The cupboards full - no room for more. So anything with lemongrass - got to eat it at a restaurant.
So I've been surfing the easy section of epicurious, because the same old things just seem - old! Found some winners and some losers. The spicy pork stir fry the other night was AWFUL!! Usually I eat whatever I cook and try to convince the family to stop being such babies and just eat it! But this was so bad that, yes, I ate it. But the leftovers went down the garbage disposal.
The kitchen drain has been stinking for the last couple of days. I guess it didn't like the pork either. I've tried the baking soda-bleach-boiling water rountine several times. Then I tried adding coarse salt. Then a lemon. Nothing has helped. Now I have the stuff pulled out of the downstairs closet, and I'm contemplating pulling the drain plug and checking for a clog. But that really scares me. Don't want that yucky stuff oozing out all over the wood floor in there.
Like much of the rest of my life, I'm hoping that if I ignore it, the smell will go away. I guess that means we'll have pizza tonight. And eat it in the backyard on paper plates? Maybe. Welcome home from camp, Chelsea. Our kitchen smells as bad as the lake at camp. Sorry.

Grandma, this one's for you!

I spent 11 1/2 hours yesterday on the computer doing family history research. Sore rear end. And what did I find? My mom's family found their ancestors long ago, but my dad's family seems to be descended from ghosts. They hopped the pond and left behind -- nothing. Is that why they came?
My grandma used to tell me stories from her childhood growing up next door to an Indian reservation. She was an artist, and painted scenes from the stories. Sometimes she's take me on her shopping trips to Aaron Brothers. She loved the one cent sale! Those paintings lined all the walls of her home, and I'd fall asleep with those cowboys and Indians staring down at me. They invaded my dreams, so I didn't sleep well....
When I was eight she wrote the story of her parents' lives and published copies for all of their descendents. But now, trying to use that information to trace their roots has proved, well, useless. In Sweden a last name doesn't last long, so who knows what name to look for! I have all these little heirlooms from her life, but so little to tie them to.
She was the kind of Grandma who thought I could do no evil. Whenever I got in trouble with my mom, Grandma would hold out her arms and let me curl up in her lap. She had the softest skin I've ever felt, and soft words to cool my temper. As "tweens" my cousin Sherry and I flew down to vist Grandma for a week. Of course she spoiled us rotten! One afternoon she brought us little cream cheese sandwiches on date-nut bread, and served it on tv trays in front of "Let's Make a Deal". Woo hoo! Heaven! One evening she pulled out an old record of music she and Grandpa used to dance to. She was humming dreamily away when I decided that it was really un-cool and proceded to make fun of it all. I'll never forget how bad it felt to make my Grandma cry.
She never met her Grandparents. They were in the "old country" and never came here. She grew up on the prairie where everyone worked hard and didn't mess around. But somehow she became my soft place to land. Somehow she became the greatest Grandma ever. She did it without any example to follow, it just came from within.
I imagine my Grandma being there when I set foot in heaven, and her soft arms hugging me again. Somewhere, she has a Grandma, too, and I hope that I can find her Grandma for her.