December 25, 2002

• Greyfox has done a wonderful nostalgic blog about his favorite old amusement park, that stirred memories for me of Joyland in Wichita, a creaky old wooden rollercoaster in Galveston, the carousel on the pier at Santa Cruz….  Check out his blog AFTER you read what a good mother I am:

  
  

  [Updating this, AND the timestamp (foolishly) made the "today" and "tomorrow" references in the blog below confusing.  This was written in the evening, Christmas eve.]

  
  

  Greater love hath no mom…

  
  

  Doug is still asleep.  He went down as I was getting up this morning around 6, after a busy night in Ragnarok Online, popping Santa Porings and tracking down bucktoothed, bigfooted phony Santa Clauses.  He hasn’t washed dishes for a couple of days.  It’s a continual source of friction between us because I’d prefer storing the dishes, clean, in the cupboards, instead of stacked on my counters, dirty.

  
  

  I know it’s a crappy job… that’s why he’s the one whose job it is.  He is the junior member of this household, and does more than his share of crappy jobs.  I cut him a lot of slack, but occasionally I rant and rave.  I informed him as he crawled in the sack this morning that I expected him to wash my big turkey pan and the roasting rack tonight when he wakes.

  
  

  Before Thanksgiving, I bought a bottle of Karo syrup.  It’s not a staple in my larder.  I only use it in pecan pie.  I told Doug then that if he would get all the dishes washed before Thanksgiving, so I’d have a clean kitchen and clear counters, I’d bake a pecan pie.  After Thanksgiving, I pointed out the absence of pecan pie, and told him if he would get the dishes all done by Christmas, I’d bake the pecan pies.  It’s always two… why not?  A pint of Karo makes two pies and my pastry recipe makes two crusts.

  
  

  Today, I was feeling so well and full of the Christmas spirit, that I decided to bake pies anyway.  Today is the day for that, because the 23 pound turkey will be in the oven almost all day tomorrow.  I moved enough stacks of dirty dishes to clear space to roll out the crust, cleaned the space and my mixer beaters, and prepared the pies.  They are in the oven now.  Since Doug and Greyfox will be eating them without any help from me, I decided we’ll take one of the pies to the couple around the corner.  They like my pies.

  
  

  I’ve baked so many pies in the last fifty years that I can do it mindlessly.  This time, that would not do.  I had to remain mindful this time, lest I thoughtlessly pop a scrap of raw pastry dough in my mouth, or run my finger into the top of the empty Karo bottle and lick the syrup off.  One little problem I was forced to remain mindful of this time that I never noticed before:  I had to keep my mouth shut, lest I drool on my work.  Although I salivated copiously, I didn’t nosh, except for two half-pecans: choice, tan, sweet, nutritious nuts selected from the three cups full I was breaking into pieces for the pies.  I know that I can handle about a pecan and a half without triggering a glycemic response.

  
  

  In active addiction mode, I would have been munching too many nuts, along with the slurps of syrup and scraps of dough.  I would have licked the mixing bowl clean.  Not this time, and instead of gobbling down the gobs of dough trimmed from the edges of the crusts, I rolled them out, spread them with cinnamon sugar and baked them while I was mixing up the pie filling.  Greyfox says the cinnamon crisps were, “not bad.”  I can smell the pies now.  I had to take a peek just now.  The timer said there are 23 minutes left until they come out of the oven.  They look great.  I can hardly wait for Doug to wake up.

  
  

  He won’t have much surprise from his presents this year.  He knows I’m giving him snowshoes, and the hard drive came out of the box and was installed as soon as it arrived.  This, I think, will be a pleasant surprise for him.  The pleasant surprise for me has been how easily I’ve resisted the temptation.  I’ve tried to do this many times before and failed.  The difference this time, I’m convinced, is the supplement regime, the amino acid neurotransmitter precursors I learned about in End Your Addiction Now.

  
  

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  UPDATE:  As I did a final edit on this blog, the timer sounded and Doug woke up.  The pies were not done yet, so they still have a few minutes to bake.  Doug’s verdict on the cinnamon crisps was, “mmmmm….”

  • 12:41 pm
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