Baggage

Not long ago I met a woman. She told me that she'd had to overcome a horrible childhood. It appears her mom had some mean boyfriends, one of which tried to smother her when she was sleeping. There were many, many moves and perhaps some time in foster care.

Fortunately she had a good mind. She entered the military, where for the first time she encountered order and discipline. She thrived. She took advantage of the educational opportunities in the service and earned her bachelors and masters degrees. She has also been through years of therapy working through the mess of her childhood. She had made a good marriage and built a successful career.

She is an articulate, independent and intense young woman. When she was talking about all the moving around she did as a kid, she pulled her small duffel bag in to herself. "I always have this with me" she announced solemnly. "I never, ever want to lose my stuff again!"

When I tell this story, people always want to know what was in that duffel bag.

Orientation

Mother was really confused yesterday. She fell nearly a month ago. There was no obvious injury beyond some bruising on one ankle and soreness. She was x-rayed and CT scanned from top to bottom. Nothing was broken and there was no apparent stroke. Since the fall, her mind has been seriously scrambled.

Yesterday she didn't know where she was. Once explained, her distress was relieved...for a moment. Then she was confused because she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Orientation to time and events have pretty much slipped away for good. There are calendars, clocks and seasonal decorations all over her unit to help the residents of this hermetically sealed world stay in touch with time and events, but not much registers with Mother any more. This, however, was the first time I was aware that she didn't know where she was. It was sad to see her frightened look. The nurses placed her out by the nurses station so there would always be someone near. That was reassuring to me. Still, another piece of her mind is crumbling away.

9:22pm Mother is back in isolation again. Happily she was less confused but sadly the culture that was taken from her skin lesion grew MRSA. This strain is sensitive to Bactrim so a course of it has begun. She doesn't act sick just unhappy about being cooped up. Fortunately some a new CD from my sister arrived. Music helps fill the lonely hours.

Turkey Shoot

Sunday, the Fire Department held its annual turkey shoot out at the police firing range. I was looking forward to using use my new shotgun this year and enjoyed the day immensely. Hubster raked up by winning the 50/50 raffle and two turkeys. I was a hair's breadth away from winning my own turkey. I've saved my target as proof. Oh well, two turkeys is more than enough. TA was there and he won a turkey as well. Except for one brief shower, it was a wonderful day to be outside.

The fellow, who beat me out of my turkey, won 12 turkeys last year. He talked enthusiastically to us about frying his turkeys. He is obviously the cook because he knew about oil and meat temperatures and even recommended a favorite concoction to inject into Mr. Tom before immersing him in the hot oil. I was sold, so today I went out to my favorite farm supply emporium to buy a turkey fryer, a big box of oil, a digital fork thermometer and several jars of flavoring to shoot into the bird. The picture on the box shows several smiling men hanging around the fryer perhaps telling hunting stories and throwing back a couple of brewskies. Around here, it will be me (knocking back a cup of herbal tea) and the dog, keeping an eye on the turkey as it fries to a deep brown crisp.

Is he cute or what?

This is Iggy, my nephew's miniature greyhound. Recently Iggy was playing with another dog when he decided to take a flying leap down the stairs. He didn't stick his landing and broke his leg. At the doggie orthopaedist's office, he jumped off the examining table and broke the other foreleg. It was a bad day for Iggy and a very expensive one for my nephew.

Happy Birthday Son!

Look at all those candles....



and all that smoke!







You make us so proud!
love,
Mom and Pop

Best Pumpkin Pie

I love pumpkin pie. I love pumpkin lattes, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin muffins...pumpkin anything. Every fall, I enjoy picking out a fat pumpkin to sit on my front porch until the Christmas decorations come out. When it rots, I enjoy my annual tradition of lobing the late pumpkin over the hill to bounce down into the woods.

Last week, I was given a pumpkin. This was a pie pumpkin. In all my years of making pumpkin pies, I had never baked one using fresh pumpkin. I accepted the challenge, using the recipe that came on this cute little orange guy from Trader Joe's. While I microwaved the pumpkin, I measured out the ingredients and rolled out a Pillsbury pie shell. The meat from the pumpkin didn't get as mushy as I wanted, so I ran the filling through the food processor before putting it in the shell. That did the trick. The results were, in my humble opinion, spectacular. My friend Mavis told me that her kids refuse to eat any pie not made from fresh pumpkin. I now know why.

Fresh Pumpkin Pie:
2 beaten eggs
1/2 C milk
3/4 C brown sugar
2 C cooked pumpkin *
1/4 tsp allspice
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves

Mix ingredients. Puree if needed in a food processor. Pour into pie shell. Bake at 425 degrees for 10 minutes. Lower oven temperature to 350 degrees and bake for 35-40 minutes until the custard is firm.

* Pumpkin can be split in half and seeded. Then bake it in the oven upside down in a little water until soft. Or cook it in the microwave. Poke a couple of holes in the skin to vent steam and cook until soft.Times will vary depending on the size and tenderness of the pumpkin. I think it took about eight to ten minutes in the microwave to get this 6" pumpkin cooked, turning it every two minutes.

Birth order

In a recent issue, Time magazine's cover story was about the intriguing subject of birth order. There is no doubt that our birth order is a strong influence in shaping our personalities and is one explanation why children in the same family are so different. The Time article, alas, ignores the influence of gender which is seriously stupid. There is a great difference, for example, between a boy who is the middle of three sons and another who is the middle between two sisters.

My favorite book on birth order is Family Constellation by Walter Toman who conducted groundbreaking research in both the US and Germany on the subject. This book is not conjecture but the fruit of serious scientific study. Toman discusses personality traits which are commonly associated with various birth positions and what are the best birth order matches for marriage. If two oldest children marry, they often butt heads and jockey for leadership in the relationship. Two youngest marrying frequently fruitlessly look to the other to take charge.

Recently a young couple consulted me. Their marriage of three years is failing. The husband is heartbroken. I am the last ditch effort to save their marriage. The wife wants out. She feels she has outgrown him, doesn't love him, so why prolong the misery. If the wife wants to work on the relationship, I have a shot at salvaging this mess. Since she doesn't, I'm not very optimistic.

In our time together, I learned that they were both unplanned babies. Her mom didn't think she could have any children. She was born via C-section prematurely. She spent her first weeks of life in the NICU hooked up to monitors and tubes. There was some concern about a heart murmur but she outgrew that. She is an only child.

The husband was also unplanned. He is a twin. He too was premature and spent several weeks in a NICU. In fact, it was the very same unit as his wife's . He also had a heart murmur that he outgrew. He and his twin brother were his mom's only living children. During his mom's first marriage, she had given birth to a premature little girl who had lived only a few days before she died. Mom's first marriage ended shortly after that tragedy.

This couple's history is a nightmare. There is so much pain, fear and sadness here. But the birth order alone is intriguing. The young wife is an only child who was catered to and most likely was indulged by her parents and her grandparents.She was the center piece of her birth family and the first grandchild on both sides. Now she wonders what is wrong with her husband. He just doesn't get that she is a princess. She is still a child, the only child whose mom and dad are at her beck and call. He, on the other hand, had to share with his brother from the moment of conception on. He is used to taking turns and sharing, but there is the chronic frustration of not getting enough from his mom. He got half the love and attention that a single birth baby would receive and he's now married to a gal who may have gotten too much. Does this mean that the marriage cannot be saved? No, but one key part of the treatment would be to instruct them in what ways their birth order influences how they conduct life and how they react to each other.