When the going gets tough…

…the tough get chocolate.

We are celebrating my mother’s 90th birthday tomorrow (a couple weeks late) with a family dinner at her house (our house? The house we grew up in). My brother will make spaghetti (if we’re lucky, with the incredible bolognese sauce that takes forever to make but is so darn good). I’m contributing the cake — the most decadent one I ever make, and probably downright dangerous because it uses raw eggs. But it never fails to delight. (As the description in the book says, “Layers of cookies and mousse, oh my.”)

The recipe is from my favorite cookbook — Three Rivers Cookbook III — now tattered because I’ve used it so much. I got it as a housewarming present when I bought my first house almost 20 years ago. It’s a gem — the best of the 4 in the Three Rivers Cookbook series. My go-to, never-fails-me kitchen savior.

 

Mom and I have been going through a rough patch. The great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania randomly picked her to undergo a driving “audit” of sorts (drivers 40 and over are eligible for this random audit), so she had to get an eye exam and physical before they would renew her license. Perfect, I thought, maybe THIS is how we can keep her from driving anymore. The notice came while she was laid up in the hospital with her ankle, so I put it aside, after casually mentioning it to her (knowing she wouldn’t remember).

Months later, it resurfaced, as her driver’s license neared expiration (on her birthday). She had already started driving again (against all our wishes), so was quite irate to learn her license was going to expire and “no one had told her about it.” It was terrible we all wanted her to be “housebound.” When I refused to help her get the necessary exams, she did it on her own, with the help of a few co-conspirators (and a totally clueless PCP). And she was downright pissed at me, and still is.

So, my fellow Pennsylvanians, once the photo card arrives from the state (and once someone takes her to get the photo) you will have another 90-year-old on the road. All I can say is, if you’re tooling around the North Hills and see a little blonde-white head peeking over the steering wheel of a purple PT Cruiser (yep, this was the car she chose after my dad died — mostly for the color), steer clear.

But back to the cake. Since I’m the youngest in my family, with no kids, I can’t even allow myself to HOPE someone will make me chocolate mousse cake on my 90th birthday…but…I guess ya just never know.

Here’s what it looks like pre-unveiling. I’ll try to remember to take one post-. Quick like, before it’s just a chocolaty-good memory.

All I really need is love,
but a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt!
                                       ~ Lucy Van Pelt (aka Charles Schulz)
                     

Getaway gone bad.

Friday morning

  • Leave 2 hours later than planned due to teaming, pouring, buckets and buckets of torrential rain (after weeks of drought). No way to load the car (or get the almost-never-used-in-the-three-years-we’ve-owned-them bicycles up on the roof rack) without getting soaked.
  • Notice the practical, water-conserving rain barrel is overflowing (despite the overflow valve) and open the valve so it drains down the driveway instead of flooding the garage.
  • Load the car when rain reduces to a drizzle.
  • Drive 2 hours to Cook Forest in the same rainy drizzle.

Friday noon

  • “Arrive at destination.” So announces Thomas, our newly acquired British GPS navigator that I don’t like much because of his proclivity to send us down winding, 2-lane roads when there are perfectly good highways nearby.
  • Unload car and cooler, lamenting the state of the rental house (blast those Internet pictures). Pigs (not pit bulls) in lipstick come to mind.
  • Watch it rain for the rest of the day with family.

Saturday

  • Watch it rain all day with family.
  • Decide to take a drive in the rain.
  • Discover MARVELOUS BEST-EVER ICE CREAM at the little concessionnaire in the park.

Sunday noon

  • Sun at last! And record heat (mid-’80s). Decide to take almost-never-used-in-the-three-years-we’ve-owned-them bicycles to the park for a ride along the river.
  • Enjoy a lovely 3-mile ride.
  • Curse all things bicycle on the exhausting 3-mile ride back, especially manufacturer of expensive “made for women” bicycle seat akin to riding astride a balance beam.
  • Discover MARVELOUS BEST-EVER ICE CREAM place also makes the MOST INCREDIBLE CURLY FRIES YOU HAVE EVER EATEN. Top them off with another MARVELOUS BEST-EVER ICE CREAM cone to recover from 6-mile balance-beam ride.
  • See careless, inconsiderate jerks from New York park next to us at concessionnaire and think they ding our car door with theirs. Forget to check before they pull away.
  • Visit “rustic furniture” place and dream about owning a log cabin one day. Realize it’s a pipe dream because we’ll never be able to retire due to having to bail out irresponsible home-buyers, mortgagers, insurance companies, hurricane evacuation-refusers, and assorted other money-sucking leeches.

Sunday evening

  • Hunker down to watch nationally televised Steelers game. Notice the wind is really whipping outside, and wind warnings are crawling all over the bottom of the TV screen.
  • Endure blinking lights, intermittent TV outages. Dig through rental trying to find working flashlights (2) and candles (none).
  • Completely lose power at the end of the first quarter. Worry that you will also have no water because there is probably a well and pump.
  • Walk along the road and see neighbors. Hear that power is off all the way to Clarion (20 miles away).
  • Go to bed — nothing else to do.
  • Wake up at 2:30 a.m. when electricity (and all the lights) come back on.

Monday

  • Still no cable.
  • Notice considerable door ding from careless, inconsiderate jerks from New York. Realize it will cost at least $100 to fix their one second of “it’s all about me” carelessness.
  • Pack up and go, leaving sister, mom, and brother #1 behind. Drive home in beautiful, cool sunshine.
  • Discover minimal debris from storm. Start to water plants (not using the now-empty rain barrel), unpack, do laundry, clean up assorted cat puke.
  • Stop everything when power goes out at home for 1-1/2 hours.

Tuesday

  • Start working bright and early. Discover numerous e-mail requests for new projects and annoying rework of project drafted 5 weeks ago.
  • Discover through brother #2 that power is still out at my mother’s house since Sunday — literally only her house and about 5 others on the same line (the one where the power always goes out and nobody else’s does).
  • Lament loss of food in fridge and full-size upright freezer.
  • Discover when sister returns home with mother that brother #3 has redistributed most of the freezer food to neighbors and cousins.
  • Discover power company is estimating FRIDAY NIGHT before power is restored in her area. FIVE DAYS AFTER IT WENT OUT.
  • Curse power company.
  • Frantically keep working to make up for time lost and new projects requested while away.
  • Discover front tire almost flat. Fill it and drive an hour each way to pick up mother and bring her here.
  • See power crews working near her house as we pull away.
  • Sigh.

Wednesday

  • Lament no sign of power at mother’s yet. (Power crews must have been a cruel hoax.)
  • Raalize next much-anticipated getaway (aka vacation to North Carolina mountains) is only 2-1/2 weeks away.
  • Wonder if it’s even worth it.

No vacation goes unpunished.
              ~ Karl Hakkarainen

Wanna play______?

I saw a small story online a few days ago about the death of the world’s tallest woman. She wasn’t a stranger to me. I knew all about her and her male counterpart (Robert Wadlow, world’s tallest man) because The Guinness Book of World Records was one book my brother and I read incessantly growing up.

I don’t know what made it so fascinating — maybe because the stories were so odd, the information came in bite-size chunks, and you could pick it up at any page and find something interesting.

Our fascination with Guinness was only one of the many things my brother and I shared. We spent a lot of time together, he and I, even though he was 5-1/2 years older. Hours of games — many of our own devising. Hours of me watching him tend his numerous aquariums (which I hated because they took so much of his time away from playing with me!). Hours feeding one game obsession or another. The Risk obsession, when all we did was play endless games of Risk. The backgammon evenings watching Barney Miller reruns. The pinochle summer (with my sister and eventual brother-in-law) where we had a running tournament all summer long. The hangman days, the Life days, the Monopoly days, the tag-I-T-poison-I-T days. The badminton days. The frisbee days. The let’s-make-funny-recordings-on-this-old-8-track days. Once we made a list of every Star Trek episode from memory (that’s not nerdy, right?).

It was great having a live-in co-conspirator. It was hard when he left for college, leaving me to face the high school years at home alone. But I survived, and so did he. Even though childhood ends, people change, times change, we still have our memories of growing up together — our experience alone, different from the “older kids.”  It just takes a little news story about a woman we met long ago in the pages of Guinness to bring it all back, and be grateful.

Sibling relationships – and 80 percent of Americans have at least one –
outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels
that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations
of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust. 
                                                                      ~ Erica E. Goode

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