Over the river and through the woods
What ever happened to “Over the river and through the woods to grandfather’s house we go!”?
I would like to go to grandfather’s house for Thanksgiving too. “Potatoes and cranberries cooked to a turn and biscuits as light as a breeze,” or something like that. “Gravy boats swimming and glasses a brimming with cider, as much as you please.” I suppose it is just another one of those Norman Rockwell paintings that we try to live up to.
Now I’m a grandmother, but when they come over to my house for Thanksgiving there is no river or woods, only an Interstate highway, and there is absolutely nowhere at all to park the horses and sleigh.
I used to actually cook a giant turkey – the kind that cooks all day and is raw until the pop-up button pops, at which time the turkey is immediately overdone and dry as cardboard.
Gravy is sometimes more successful than it is at other times. Eventually, I just quit worrying about lumps. I learned how to secretly strain the gravy while no one was looking so it was as smooth as silk.
Stuffing is something I’ve never liked or understood. Soggy bread, all squished up and full of sage. Yuck! But I make it anyhow because other people seemed to like the stuff. It did make the house smell nice while it was cooking.
Mashed potatoes were the real kind, not instant potato flakes. I blended them with a portable mixer instead of a potato masher. Add too much milk and they are thin and bluish. After a few years of blue potatoes, I decided that instant potatoes were just fine.
Green beans like mama used to make were cooked in a slow cooker. None of those crispy, half-cooked, steamed green beans. Southern style green beans are cooked for hours and are full of bacon grease, of course. A vitamin couldn’t possibly survive.
Every year I threatened to abandon sweet potatoes. Too much trouble. However, due to a mutiny in the kitchen, I was overruled and forced to cook them or go to the gallows. The best kind are candied with plain sugar water instead of being sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon.
Cranberry sauce? It must be something left over from the New England Pilgrim days. Just to be proper, I open a can of the goo for my family to ignore and then throw it away after the holiday.
I’ve never made a pumpkin pie in my life – would pumpkin bread work okay? Pumpkin pie is another non-favorite. Sweet potato pie looks the same but tastes different. Practically any kind of pie at all will do since everyone is too full of turkey to eat it anyhow.
Yes, I would like to go to grandfather’s house for Thanksgiving and let grandmother do the work. The thought of cooking all this food myself doesn’t excite me any more.
This grandmother ordered a pre-cooked turkey dinner this year.
“Over the river and through the woods to Kroger’s” does not have a nice ring to it, but it sure beats spending the entire day in the kitchen. That makes it holiday music to my ears.
Copyright 2007 Sheila Moss
“Open it.” He said, handing me a small box.
It isn’t my birthday and it is too early for Christmas. The box had an apple with a bite out of it on front. Even I knew what that logo meant. And when I opened it, there it was — a shiny new black iPhone.
I’ve never really been a gadget person. Some people have to have the newest and latest electronic item as soon as it is released. When the iPhone first came out, we had to go to the Apple store and stand in line with the other early innovaters so Honey could get one on the first day.
But here it was, the future staring me right in the face — ready or not.
The guy at the phone store had transferred my phone directory already and had it ready to go. Go where, I wasn’t quite sure. I figured turning it on was a good place to start. I pushed the only button and the phone came to life. “Slide to start,” it said on the phone, so I did and up popped a screen like a mini computer.
“Where’s the owner’s manual?” I asked.
“That little 10 page pamphlet?” How hard can it be if it takes only 10 tiny pages to explain? They seemed to assume you were somewhat technically savvy. Like most computer manuals, it didn’t make much sense. I decided to try and figure it out myself and things went better.
I found a tiny keyboard where I could type text messages or email. But the keys were so tiny and my fingers so large. I could not get it to type the right letters. After typing the letter before, the letter after, and the letter above, I finally figured out that if I lined a key up with my hangnail, it would type the right letter. This is going to be some slow going, I thought.
I found out the browser is called Safari, not Internet Explorer. You can tell I’m not an Apple person. Anyhow, I was able to check my email with the help of my hangnail and the backspace.
I really didn’t see the point when I had a computer at home with a screen big enough to see. I supposed I would learn to love it. Everyone else seems to. And Honey was so pleased with himself for thinking of it that I couldn’t disappoint him by being too dumb to use it.
I eventually figured out how to make a call with it. Sometimes I hit the wrong name in the directory, and had to explain I was breaking in a new phone.
I finally figured out how to make the tiny web pages large enough to read, though it really seemed like more trouble than it was worth unless you are really desperate to read a web page. Actually, I learned this from the TV commercial which showed how to pull it in two different directions to enlarge.
“Can I borrow your iPhone?” asked my grandson when he found out I had one.
“What for?” I asked.
“My friend and I want to make a video.” he said.
I knew it had a camera, but this thing makes videos? I finally figured out that feature. At least I am as smart as a fifth grader.
And now, 10 years after the fact and many iPhones later, I’m as addicted to an iPhone as everyone else and can’t imagine life without one.
Copyright 2000 Sheila Moss
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