Category: MJ Monday

Memory: Milk

As a child and teenager, I loved milk. Whole milk.

When I was very young, a milkman delivered to our house, twice a week. We got the pasteurized milk in glass bottles with green tops, while my aunt & uncle next door got homogenized milk with red tops. That meant at our house there was always an inch or so of cream at the top of the bottle, and no matter how much I shook the bottle to blend the cream into the rest of the milk, there were disgusting thick white clumps on my Alpha-Bits in the morning.

As a teenager, we got milk in waxed cardboard cartons from the supermarket. Homogenized, thank you G*d.  My mom always had warm-from-the-oven homemade cookies waiting for us when we got off the school bus late afternoon. A tall glass of cold milk was the perfect accompaniment.

Then I moved out on my own. With room mates.

See  that  stove?

An  antique  Norge.  Best  stove I ever  had.  Pilot  light.  Kept  the  whole  top  of  the  stove  warm.  Great spot for raising bread dough. Bad spot for a room mate to leave the milk. All day. A second room mate would come home, see the milk on the stove and put it back in the refrigerator. I would come home and pour myself a glass of . . . clumps. Made those clots of cream from my pre-homogenized day seem almost palatable.

Which is why I can no longer drink a glass of milk.

Summer Is Supposed to Be Hot

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I am so tired of freezing in June, July, and August. I grew up in the country. We didn’t have air conditioning. Fans sufficed.  We wore shorts and tank tops. We tried to absorb the heat like solar batteries to get us through the long upstate New York winters.

My husband grew up in a high rise in the Bronx. But he went to sleep-away camp in the Catskills every summer. Yet he must have air conditioning. Why?

I do not understand the obsession with air conditioning. I hate going to work because it’s so blessed cold half my co-workers are running space heaters. It would be more cost efficient to reset the AC from “meat locker” to “summer dawn on the lake” and let those who are  warm use a fan than it is to run at “meat locker” and  have more people turning on their space heaters. But what do I know?  I shouldn’t have to wear a cardigan inside when it’s 90 degrees outside.

Yes, I will run the air conditioning in my car, spoiled American wench that I am, but I prefer opening the windows and the moon roof.

Just because the thermometer reads 75F does not mean the air conditioner needs to go on at home.  It roars. The noise pollution is as bad as the frigidity.

Summer is supposed to be hot. You’re supposed to open windows to catch warm summer breezes and the scent of flowers.

I’m not talking about deadly heat waves.  I’m not talking about deserts. I don’t live near a desert. I’m the first to turn on the AC when the weather hits 90+. I’m not an unreasonable woman.

And it’s not unreasonable to expect warmth in the summer.

 

Memorial Day Adventure

Several months ago, while cleaning out my file cabinet, I came across of paper work from a long ago Memorial Day weekend.

Several co-workers and I were sitting in a bar Friday night and decided to drive to Virginia Beach for the weekend. No, we weren’t drunk. But we were young and optimistic. Surely Virginia Beach would be warmer than upstate New York at the end of May.

Three of us decided to go. My friend Dave had another friend who had moved to Washington DC earlier in the year, and somehow (this was pre-cell phones) got hold of his friend. We agreed to pick him up enroute to our holiday weekend.

We drove all night. At one point, I remember jerking myself awake–I was behind the wheel. That scared me. Dave took over driving duties so I could catch a nap. Our friend Char was in the back seat of my car, sleeping.

We got to Washington, DC and my first encounter with the beltway. In comparison,  traffic doesn’t exist in upstate New York.  But I managed.

Dave’s friend, Ron, it turned out, was living in a pup tent in Burke Lake Park. He had tossed his motorcycle and camping gear into the back of his pick up truck and moved.

As you can see by the shadowy photos, we actually found Burke Lake Park in northern Virginia. And we eventually found Ron. He said he would ride his bike to Virginia Beach and catch up with us there.

We eventually arrived at our destination and actually found a place to stay right on the beach. Probably due to a cancellation. The weather was overcast and cold. I had to buy a jacket. Char flew home the next day. Dave and I tried sitting on the beach but we turned blue instead of tanning. We spent the rest of the weekend looking for Ron.  We never did find him.

The highlight of the weekend was on the first night when we went out to dinner and found ourselves being entertained by the Drifters.

The funny thing is, I flew back to Virginia Beach by myself in mid-July and spent a week in the same beachfront motel. And you’ll never guess who I ran into one night. Yep. Ron. Turns out he moved there, with his camping gear, motorcycle, and pickup truck.

 

Music: Sun Songs

One of my foibles is creating music playlists by theme. Yes, I love finding songs for the books I’m writing, but I also enjoy coming up with an idea and finding as many songs as I can to create a CD (yes, I still play CDs in my car and office). I keep running lists on my phone.

One of themes I’m currently collecting is Sun Songs.

Here’s what I have so far:

  • Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone
  • Sesame Street Theme
  • Sunshine Go Away Today
  • Walking on Sunshine
  • Good Day Sunshine
  • Sunshine on my Shoulder
  • I’ll Follow the Sun
  • Sunny
  • Soak Up the Sun

I’m open to suggestions!

 

Mommy Moment: The Bread

When Y-Chromo came home for the summer after his first year at college, there were many adjustments that needed to be made. We had to learn that he’d been on his own for 9-10 months and needed more leeway than he’d been given in high school. He needed to adjust to being in a family situation again.

While he was away at school, I didn’t have to buy as much bread for sandwiches as  I did in previous years. His first weekend home, we were nearly out. He informed me he would eat only Supermarket brand bread, if I couldn’t get Supermarket brand peanut butter, he would eat only a certain national brand. He missed Supermarket brand bread while at college.

I was very busy that weekend and did not have time to go to the Supermarket he specified. There is another grocery chain with a store closer to home. In the interest of time, that’s where I went to pick up a few crucial items. Including bread. When I got home, I transferred the loaf of bread into the Supermarket brand bag and stuck it in the freezer. Y never knew the difference.

I think X-Chromo recently told him the story. (She thought it was hysterical when I confessed it to her years later.) He laughs about it now.

Sometimes a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do.