Life with Rosie

Rosie sat in silence the entire thirty minute car ride, staring out the window, taking it all in. As we turned onto our street, she turned around and said to her caged parakeet, Sugar, in the back seat, “Oh, Sugar, wait till you see your new home! Your’re gonna love it!”

And so, life with Rosie began.

My sister-in-law, Rosie, came to live with my husband, Sam, who she affectionately calls “Brother”, and I when her parents were placed in a personal care home near us because of the dementia which they both suffer from shattered the only life she knew for fifty-one years.

Over the past six months we saw how Rosie was gradually taking on the role of the care giver to her parents despite of her own limitations and special needs as the disease progressed in her mother and father. You see, Rosie is mentally challenged and has the mental capacity of a ten or eleven year old child. It clearly became evident that the living situation was an unsafe environment for Rosie and her parents. The difficult but necessary decision was made, after agonizing and very frustrating resistence from my in-laws to move them to a secured facility and Rosie to live with us.

Although this arrangement is still new and we all are facing adjustment after adjustment, I can honestly say that it has been smooth and without major difficulties. I attribute this to Rosie’s easy and sweet spirit and her generally happy attitude.

I believe that God has sheilded her from unnecessary pain and sorrow by extending his grace to cover her evey need. I am reminded of a verse of scripture in Isaish 42:3, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness, he will bring forth justice.”

The Necessity of Lists

I would be lost without my lists. Daily to do lists, weekly to do lists, grocery lists, bucket lists, places I’d like to visit lists, recipes I’d like to try lists, people I need to call lists, pro and con lists (most helpful when faced with decision making), books I’d like to read lists, books I’ve already read lists ( most helpful in preventing me from re-reading a book which has strangely happened), lists of lists I need to make….it can go on and on. They somehow make me feel productive, especially when I can finally draw a line through one of the items on my list. When the entire list is completed, well, that’s just a good reason to celebrate!

They keep me going. I wouldn’t go as far to say that I’m a slave to these lists, but I find more and more that I depend upon them. Let’s just blame that on advanced age memory loss. I find them not only helpful but in a strange way almost comforting. Just as they say that children need boundaries for optimal behavior, my lists provide concrete guidelines, a constant reminder, a sense of keeping on task to reach certain goals.

I’ve just finished reading “Every Day Life in Tuscany” by Frances Mayes and now feel compelled to start a new list, ‘Places to Visit in Italy’. Her beautiful and inviting descriptions of the out-of-the-way towns and villages she and her husband visited sound irresistibly charming. Beach towns, seaside resorts, mountain towns, tiny fishing villages tucked away in quaint coves…. It’s just a matter of time when I will begin my own list. My husband and I would like to take a trip to Italy next year and this list would be a great tool in planning our itinerary. I need to delve into my research mode and read as many travel books on Italy I can get my hands on. This will be a much needed diversion from the stressful situation in which we are experiencing right now. I keep telling myself, this too shall pass….words of wisdom I have so frequently offered to others.

Lists can be looked upon as either a drudgery or a facilitator in getting through everyday life. I prefer to view them as the latter and will continue to make list after list after list…..

“Not So Gourmet Egg Sandwich”

Every so often, on a Sunday morning I will make myself an egg sandwich. Now this is not by any stretch of the imagination a gourmet treat. It is simplicity in its purest form. This humble breakfast reminds me of the many Saturday nights I spent sleeping over my best friend, Karen’s, house in the sixties. Hard to imagine that a few eggs, scrambled soft, placed between two slices of soft white sandwich bread covered with Heinz ketchup could taste so good! Well, when it brings back those wonderful childhood memories, there is nothing like it….period!

Now, I have to paint a clearer picture, perhaps to explain why this humble little offering is such a craving of mine.

When I slept overnight on a Saturday, of course, the next day would find us and her five brothers and sisters at nine o’clock mass. And every Catholic knows, that back in the day, you had to fast three hours before receiving Holy Communion. Yes, that meant, my friends, no breakfast or morsel of anything was eaten until we traipsed back to her house after mass which was a good twenty minutes. This put our estimated time of eating anything at around 11 o’clock. By the time we reached her house, her mom was busy in her kitchen assembling these egg sandwiches for us to devour as soon as we entered, kicked off our shoes and gathered around the formica table. Each of us grabbed a half of a sandwich and downed it with a glass of milk. Then another, then another until the plate in the center of the table was holding only a few leftover crumbs. Something about that milk, whole milk that is, fresh from Aupke’s farm was heavenly. We were so hungry, we could have eaten anything placed before us! Oh, and the bowl of blueberries, sweet and tart at the same time was another added attraction to that meal.

You see, I was introduced to so many new foods that never made an appearance at my house.
Eating at the DeFazios’ was always an adventure. I had Imperial Crab, Bavarian Strawberry Cream, Sweet and Sour Meatballs, Shrimp dip, I could go on and on…. Mrs. D was always making something new for her card club ladies and Karen and I would sometimes help but mostly would sample what was being served. I feel this was the precursor for my love of cooking especially adventurous cooking. I did learn all of the basics at home, but was thrown into a more creative mode of cooking by spending time in her kitchen. (She did go on to open a very successful Italian restaurant called Le Cresta for 15 years.)

Back to the egg sandwich, I do find myself craving it and when I do make one, I am sure to eat it slowly, conjuring up all the beautiful memories that are served up as a side.

Pasta Carbonara

This is an extremely easy version of a simple yet delicious pasta dish that can be ready before you can say “pass the cheese, please!”. It’s adapted from Martha Stewart’s Every Day Food magazine.

Pasta Carbonara is one of my favorites because of its silky-smooth and salty sauce, flecked with crispy bits of pancetta, bacon or salami, whatever your presence. In my opinion, the ultimate Italian comfort food!

Start by whisking together 3 eggs and 1 cup of Parmesan cheese in a large bowl (you’ll be mixing and serving pasta from it). Cook 4 ounces of pancetta (Italian bacon), salami slices, or regular bacon in a pan with 3 cloves of crushed garlic till crisp and then crumble or slice in small pieces. Set aside. Cook 1 pound of linguine or spaghetti; before draining, reserve 1 cup of pasta water. Add hot pasta to egg mixture, along with pancetta and garlic. Toss, adding enough pasta water to make a creamy sauce, you may not need it all. Season with salt and pepper, serve with extra cheese and a sprinkle of chopped parsley. Serves four. Bon Appetito!

Missing Borders

Every time I drive past Borders book store which has closed a few months ago, my heart sinks! Seeing the now empty parking lot which used to be filled with cars is a very depressing sight.  Borders was one of the major anchor stores to the Northway Mall for many, many years.  I could go in there during the holiday season and do half of my Christmas shopping buying books for just about everyone on my list and gift cards for my ‘hard to buy for’ people.  It was my home away from home for a little over three years while I wrote my book. I just knew when I entered the cafe,  that familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and seeing the faces of the ‘regulars’ put me at ease.  My creative juices would start to flow and I could not wait to find an empty table,set up my work space and begin to tap out word by word on my computer the  memories and stories I longed for the whole world to read.  I looked forward to those days as much as one looks forward to donning a soft, comfortable sweater on a cold winter’s day.  It was a gathering  place for business meetings, school projects, serious discussions, and lighthearted coffee breaks with old friends.  I could just cry!

Now, I am forced to locate another spot to collect my thoughts and allow my creative writing to flow, to find new projects and assignments such as this greatly neglected blog, and possibly a new book.   Lately, I’ve felt a gentle nudging toward a newly found motivation and am anxious to begin with a brand new project.  I simply miss my writing on  a regular basis and feel ready for a fresh start.  I just don’t where to go!  Oh, I could do this at home, but there’s something about being surrounded by others who are sipping on caffeinated beverages  ferociously pounding on a keyboard trying to hold back a satisfying smile while doing so.

Panera’s is a possible location, but I really need to be surrounded by books,whether for reference or to take a break and read something to transport me some where else if just for a little while.

I’ll find a place; Barnes and Noble  is only a few miles further away, the extra distance will be worth it.

Pug’s Minest’ (Minestrone)

I’ve been thinking about my Dad lately, Frank Pugliese, aka “Pug”.  I was remembering how his group of friends from the Sharpsburg Senior Citizen Highrise played poker every Friday night.  He was the organizer which also entailed providing the food for the night.  And boy, was that right up his alley!  He would go to Shop N’ Save and purchase every day old pastry he could get his hands on at half price.  The guys  loved this, you know how ‘seniors’ are about spending unnecessary money!

The group was made up of the most eclectic characters.  One of the fellows, Pierre, was blind.  How he was able to play cards, I’ll never know!  When I questioned my dad about this once, he said, “Oh, whoever is sitting next to him helps him out, no problem.”  Yeah, I bet!  I’m sure Pierre never went home a winner.

My Dad liked to cook, was pretty good at it, too.  He occasionally made hot sausage sandwiches or homemade pizza or pepperoni bread for these poker nights.  One of his specialties was his Minest’ (Italian dialect for Minestrone soup).  He once was featured in the local newspaper for preparing this soup for the poker gang.  He was quite proud of that, so was I.   Here is his recipe.   All of these recipes can be found in my cookbook, Always on Sunday: Recipes from an Italian Childhood”.  http://www.alwaysonsunday.com

Pug’s Minest’

1 large bunch          fresh spinach leaves or escarole

2 quarts                     chicken stock

1 pound                    sweet or hot Italian sausage, sliced

1 large                       onion, chopped

1 green pepper      chopped

2                                 whole garlic cloves

1 large can              crushed tomatoes

1 can (15 oz)          red kidney beans

1/2 tsp                     dried oregano

1/2 tsp                     red pepper flakes

Salt and pepper to taste.

Rinse and trim and cut off stems of spinach or escarole, cut in strips.  Place in large stock pot with chicken broth and cook till wilted.  Meanwhile in skillet, brown sausage, onion, pepper and garlic till cooked through and vegetables are soft.  Add to the stockpot containing the spinach, along with the tomatoes, the beans and seasonings.  Simmer for 20 to 25 minutes.  Add water to thin, if needed.  Serve with grated parmesan cheese.

 

Snail Mail May be Slow, but…..

I have a friend who lives in Chicago who I correspond with only through letters.  This is our method of choice to keep each other informed about any noteworthy news concerning ourselves or our families.

I still prefer writing letters, short notes, ‘dropping a line’ to my friends. It’s just more personal.  E-mails, although a great vehicle to inform, notify or respond in a timely manner, just don’t cut it for me. And texting, no thank you!

Choosing the stationery is half the fun.  I love holding the smooth paper in my hands, selecting only black ink, fine point writing instruments.  If I had the time I’d use a calligraphy pen with an ink jar.  I love the whole writing process, using my best penmanship (thanks to the urging of Sister Mary Martha).  I even love the smell of the paper; strange, I know.  Using a letter opener, when I receive correspondence from my friend is also a little ritual that I enjoy.  When I am very ambitious, I pull out and use the sealing wax and stamp to close the flap on the back of the envelope.  I once bought a kit containing different size stencils to make my own envelopes , which I lined the inside with colored tissue paper.

Writing letters is a lost art.  Maybe I’ll write a book about how to compose a letter to just about anyone on any subject.  In my younger days, friends would actually recruit me to help them write letters ….letters of sympathy, letters of complaints, letters of thanks, love letters, letters to accompany resumes…. yes, once upon a time resumes where held in your hand, not viewed on a computer screen.

A hand written letter/note lets the recipient know how much she/he is valued.  Taking the time to thoughtfully, not quickly, compose a few lines is about as personal as one can get to convey feelings and emotions without actual words being spoken. I declare today, March 29th, Write a Letter Day!

So, who will you send a message to today, carefully folded and sealed for their eyes only???

Starry, Starry Night

I’m sure you’ve all recited this song as a child, “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star”. Last night , as I was walking the beach at dusk, the sky was transformed from a grayish-purplish hue to a total black-ink darkness in a matter of ten minutes or so. Then gradually, the sky became dotted with stars, tiny specks of sparkling silver , as though someone from heaven was sprinkling a large container of glitter. I was in awe, as well as experiencing some slight neck pain from constantly looking up.

Unlike the song says,”…up above the sky so high, like a diamond in the sky..”, these stars seemed so low, like only an arm’s length away. A spectacular show, free of charge! In addition to the visual beauty I was gazing upon, the ocean’s waves added to the audio portion of this show-stopper. Walking on the soft sand, and feeling the mild, gentle ocean breeze, well, it was pretty indescribable. Which then reminded me of another song. This one by Chris Tomlin, appropriately titled,”Indescribable”. I couldn’t get these words from the song out of my head,”….You placed the stars in the sky and You know them by name..” He really is an amazing God.

I wish I could have captured the awesome site in a photo, but then, I don’t think it would have done it any justice. Vincent Van Gogh tried to capture a starry night in his famous painting. He did it in his own impressionist style, but no comparison to the real thing. (Sorry Vincent). I’ll just have to go to the beach again tonight and the next and the next….

Fresh is Best

If  it’s approaching February…then I must be in Hilton Head for the next few weeks.  Yes, this snow bird has gone South to escape Pittsburgh’s cold, raw, gray, most snowiest (did I make up that word?) month!  I take well to sunshine and warmth, more and more so each year.  Out of all the benefits of spending time here in the Low Country, my greatest joy comes from the fact that I am just minutes away from a Fresh Market grocery store!  I feel sorry for those of you that are not in a close vicinity to this magical market!

I came prepared, as I always do, with new cook books and cooking magazines in tow, overflowing with  tempting and new recipes just waiting for me to tackle!  And what better place to purchase the ingredients than a Fresh Market.   Produce is generally more plentiful and inviting here where we are closer to the warm, longer growing season states which produce fruits and vegetable, like Georgia and Florida.   When I enter a Fresh Market, I’m entering a foodie’s heaven!  I have to contain myself from oohhing and aahhing and touching everything from the dark, forest green,  curly Tuscan kale to the smooth skinned, shiny, baby eggplants the color of an emperor’s royal robe.

The breads on display in the bakery not only have a tantalizing aroma, but are sending subtle invitations to have their crusty exterior broken and slathered with the honey butter, made on the premises.  I am drawn to the coffee and tea aisle to sample the fresh brew of the day; my all time favorite being Seville Orange…just a slight hint of bright citrus mingled with a robust, fragrant coffee bean flavor.   The cheese counter is like no other!   Hard to find, aged to perfection, these hunks of salty and sharp or creamy and smooth made from either cow’s or sheep’s milk cheeses will blend and marry beautifully with a pasta dish or find it’s way into a scrumptious sauce.

I can hardly contain myself!   Can’t wait to go this morning and saunter aisle by aisle searching for whatever I need to make an unforgettable feast.  I never go with a shopping list, I just let my senses, all of them, guide me to purchase the freshest, most appealing items as single ingredients, knowing that they will join together and transform to something that will feel like angel’s dancing on my tongue.

New Decade

January 2011.   A new decade is upon us.  When someone says the older you get the faster time passes by, boy, they’re not kidding!  But wait, didn’t we  just herald in the new millennium?  Didn’t DVDs  just replace VCRs, word processors replace typewriters, push buttons replace rotary dial phones, what generation iPod are we up to now anyway?  I don’t even want to touch what computers and smart phones can do! [Well, I do enjoy scyping with my out of town kids.]  And if I hear the word ‘apps’, wait, it’s not even a word! one more time , I think I’ll scream!  Oy, double oy!  If  you can identify with that phrase and remember who Myron Cope is, well, we may be on the same page!   I guess I need to get with it, accept these changes, learn to adjust…blah, blah, blah.   I am willing to try. [Dragging my feet just a little.]

A new decade, new year, new month and I guess a new attitude is in order.  One more thing.  Just when did my doctors, bankers, police officers, and government officials all look like they just graduated from High School?!?!

If you haven’t guessed, this year on my birthday, I will step out of one decade  and enter into the next. [Also, dragging my feet just a little.]  Age is only a number, age is only a number, age is only a number….