Christmas Day -- and the Other Regret

Christmas Day 2013; Around the Sound ... still --

The youngest Daughter called me to "invite" me to take her out for a Christmas dinner. How could I refuse?

Finding the usual eating places like Applebee's closed for the day, we ended up at 1400 having turkey and trimmin's at a fine restaurant* in one of the better hotels. The dinner included a very large helping of turkey breast and dressing, garlic mashed potatoes, sweet potato, and mixed green vegetables. This was topped off with a piece of pie.

After this mid-afternoon feast, and after depositing Daughter back at her residence, I arrived back at the Castle where I got a call from Nancy Nurse (remember her? I had Lutefisk dinner there yesterday!). Nancy said she had a ten-pound Prime Rib Roast that would be coming out of the oven in about half an hour; would I be interested? How could I refuse?

35 or 40 minutes later, with the Lemon Meringue pie I had absconded with the day before and my normal needs in case I stayed overnight, I arrived just in time to sit down to a monster feast of Prime Rib, boiled potato and mixed steamed vegetables. Some similarity in the side dishes from the day before was to be expected.

For dessert, we had our choice of Apple pie (the kind that won the Blue Ribbon at the Evergreen Fair), Pumpkin pie, and of course my 2/3 remnant of yesterday's LMP. I checked with The Nurse as to whether she had Tums on board; she assured me that she was sure she did.  I inhaled the 2/3's "remnant" of the Lemon Meringue pie [... didn't want it to go to waste -- I'd rather have it go to my waist!]. I also had (to have!) a small slice of that Blue Ribbon Apple pie.

After watching a very interesting documentary about the Bible versus the Book of Mormon, I asked for a couple Tums so I could go to bed. This was for sure going to be a "Two Tum" night, after all of the food I had had this cay -- including 2/3's of a big Lemon Meringue pie.

Oops! No Tums in the house! Oh my!! Oh dear!! Oh, regrets!!!

Christmas Eve 2013 Festivities -- And Regrets!?

24 December; Around the Sound --

Let me begin by explaining the meaning behind the word "Regrets" in the Title of this Post. I had regrets on each of the two-day celebration which begins on Christmas Eve because I ate too much. With that qualification now out of the way, let us venture forth in this dissertation about a most memorable and happy Christmas for this Old Grump.

A few weeks before Christmas I inquired of my younger Daughter, "Nancy Nurse", as to whether she and Husband were planning on having their traditional Christmas Eve meal of Lutefisk and other Norsk delicacies. Nancy responded that, "No", they weren't planning on the traditional feast this year because, since they both worked, they would not be able to make the journey to "Snoose Junction" to pick up the Lutefisk. "Well", I thought to myself and out loud, "Since I go to Church in that neighborhood -- and, being retired, also am free to go and come almost anywhere and everywhere -- I will be glad to pick up the Lutefisk. Where do you get it and how much do you want?"

There was now no excuse for the festival feast not to happen. I had had a helping or two of Lutefisk many years ago when the Grand Mother and I partook of an opportunity to savor (and understatement if there ever was one when it comes to Lutefisk!) at a Norwegian-populated Lutheran church in our neighboring town. Mother, of course, and despite being of Norwegian ancestry, could not stand the look,smell or even thought of any kind of seafood. The mere thought of Lutefisk brought tears of memories of her growing-up years when she ha to endure the "flavor" of Lutefisk preparation in her home. [However, despite this aversion to seafood, she baked the best Salmon that my taste-buds have ever enjoyed! Oh, and let us not forget her Lemon Meringue Pies!!!] Anyway (back on the subject), I found that, being the poor German boy that I am, I actually kind of liked Lutefisk. The other traditional Scandinavian Yuletide foods, mostly-sweet things, are "icing on the cake".

So it was that I diverted on my way to or from Church on 15 December, to find the "Lutefisk Place" and a special Danish Bakery that made Julekake (a rich coffee-cake type of pastry), Boller (cardamom-flavored dinner rolls), and almond rings (which the Danes called "Kringles"). I placed my order for the bakery items and inquired what time they would be open on Christmas Ever. [I wanted the baked goods to be fresh when I brought them to the table!] 

On the following Sunday, 22 December, I picked up the amount of Lutefisk requested by Daughter Nancy and poured cold water all over it, as she had instructed, then placed it overnight in the refrigerator. Of course I took pains to seal the container in which the Lutefisk reclined/slumped/oozed [let the reader imagine the best adverb]. The sealing was to minimize the possibility of some "flavor" escaping and rendering that refrigerator into condemnation from ever again being used for "more delicately flavored foodstuffs".

Early on Christmas Eve I went forth to the Danish Bakery in "Snoose Junction" to claim my previously ordered baked goods. When I arrived, a half-hour before the time they had told me they would be open, there was already a line around the corner and up the street --with the store being completely packed by other early-morning shoppers. Well, I grabbed my spot at the end of the line next to a Genuine Norwegian and his lovely wife. For the next hour we engaged in pleasant conversation about Norwegian ancestry, BMW's, world travels and All Electronic Propulsion Control Systems. He said that there was no such thing as "100% Norwegian"; he explained that the sea-going Vikings (the only true 100-percenters) took care of that. He told about his travels to Iceland where he had found the beautiful Norwegian sweater that he was wearing. When I inquired about the "native" Icelanders, he described them as half-Norwegian. "Oh", I said, "So they found aborigines already living on Iceland?" 

He replied that the Vikings had brought along "bed warmers" as they sailed westward to Iceland. But their female companions were not from Norway;; they were "opportunities" that they had found enroute.

Finally arriving at Nancy's home in time for her to finish preparing and cooking the Lutefisk, the three of us sat drinking strong, black coffee and nibbling on a chunk of that rich delicacy called Kringle. Half thinly-rolled pastry dough and butter! Yummm!!!

Wobble: Awaiting his Christmas Eve feast of some of
the finest Western Montana grass hay.

But before sitting down to dinner later that afternoon, Husband and I drove out to the farm to feed the largest pet in the U.S.A. -- Wobble, the 1500 pound Buffalo. [He thinks he's a "people", so doesn't mind spending his time alone in one of the several lush pastures on this 70-acre grass-farm.] Wobble is now 21 (born prematurely on 31 May 1992); he has been to school (elementary school in his neighborhood; he has visited the Evergreen State Fair in Monroe and he has also "Done the Puyalllup". So he is both educated and well-traveled.

We sat down for Christmas Eve dinner at about 1600. I loaded my plate with a couple boiled potatoes, mixed steamed vegetables and took about a third of a pound of the hot Lutefisk. After pouring some melted butter over it and the boiled potato, I proceeded to enjoy once again this unique Norwegian dish.

After dinner, Nancy presented Husband and I with our choice of pies: Pumpkin, Apple, and Lemon Meringue. Of course I chose the LMP -- after having a small wedge of Pumpkin. Since no one was there who had an appetite for LMP except me, I was permitted to take a LARGE helping (one third!!) of this fine-looking pie.

I arrived back at Grumpy's Castle at about 2130 that evening and, taking a Tum (to tame down a stomach -- my one regret -- that I knew from previous experience would need taming down after over-indulging on that delicious LMP), I went to bed.

I obviously survived, so on to Christmas Day!!

Major Surgery -- The Grand Mother is Recovering

Ides of November; Doctors' Offices, Hospitals and Home --

Shakespeare wrote a line, "Beware the Ides of March", but Grumpy has plagiarized this line to say, "The Ides of November have been almost as bad." 

On 7 November, the Grand Mother had an Endoscopy [accent on the first "o"], in which a camera was poked down her throat into her stomach to view the lining, and a biopsy was taken of a swollen ulcerated area partially blocking the outlet of the stomach.

On Wednesday, 9 November, we went for the reports by an Oncologist and a Surgeon -- the biopsy had revealed that the tumor (the cause of the swollen, ulcerated area) was malignant. Surgery was scheduled for the following Wednesday, 16 November.

Waiting to hear the Oncology and Surgeon diagnosis and plan

Early the next morning, the Grand Mother told Grumpy that she had lost her supper of the night before and that she felt  major distress in her stomach; this meant that nothing was going through, and so off to Urgent Care we went. After a couple hours' testing and consultation with a doctor on duty -- who just happened to be the Surgeon with whom she had talked several hours before! -- she was ordered transferred to the hospital next door for emergency surgery.

Julius Caesar was assassinated in Shakespeare's play; the Grand Mother came too close, for Grumpy's comfort, to "cashing in her chips" that Thursday night following laparoscopic removal of the large cancerous tumor which had ulcerated the wall of her stomach, and had also blocked off the exit, causing the distress she had endured that morning. Half of her stomach, as well as the duodenum were removed with all of the cancer, including three lymph glands that also contained cancer cells. Thirteen additional lymph glands were also removed, and were determined to be "negative" for cancer cells; her surgeon reported that the boundaries of the tumor were free of extensions. This information suggests that her body is now completely free of cancer. This is an excellent prognosis for her future! 

[So, she can safely withhold her secret Lemon Meringue Pie recipe from Grumpy awhile longer without fear that it be lost to posterity.]

After the surgery, she had difficulty resuming breathing as she was coming out of the anesthesia, but the skilled surgeon and others in attendance, with same assistance from a positive breathing apparatus, were finally able to get her breathing on her own after about an hour of effort.

The Grand Mother in ICU [note tubes and monitor wires behind her neck]

Mother came home on Monday -- under normal circumstances, she would have been moved to a qualified nursing home until she was able to act completely independently. However, with two daughters (one a licensed Registered Nurse), her doctor deemed that she would be better off at home than any place else! [And, she told Grumpy that she was "thinking about" making Peanut Butter cookies for him, and that she "wanted to" bake him a Lemon Meringue Pie! Now, how great is that!!]

 

[I wonder if the removal of that cancer somehow deluded her mind? Could she have forgotten all the transgressions of which Grumpy is always so blatantly guilty?? Maybe that cancer was also a "memory chip" that, once removed, was no longer readable!!]

Finally, on the fifth day of being back at home, and eating liquefied and "mooshy" foods, the great day we were all awaiting arrived: Proof that "all systems are go!"

After

Before

These "before and after" pictures tell the story; a great celebration was held with dancing in the streets (surely somewhere), fireworks (aplenty), and of course hugs and kisses.

More stories may be told in the future days as the Grand Mother reaches her full capacity to monitor the Grumpy's activities and mischief; who knows what may transpire?! 

Stay tuned!!

Lemon Meringue Pie Revisited (Originally posted 18 June 2007)

[Ed. note: For reasons unknown to Grumpy, the photos of the Lemon Meringue Pies, originally a part of the June posting, disappeared. Maybe the INTERNET ate them! -- they did look and in fact were delicious!! So, anyway, since I found the photos again, I am taking the liberty of reposting this story -- maybe some more real LMP's will magically appear! Heh! heh!]

As the reader will no doubt remember, the probability of a Lemon Meringue Pie (hereinafter, LMP) appearing in the castle of the Great Grumpy Z was forecast recently [Ed: back in June -- and now in August the forecast has been reaffirmed] as "never again". Now this would probably be to the longer life benefit of the Great Grumpy, but tastebuds never forget that delicious aroma and the mouth-watering flavor of the Grand Mother's (aka, First Wife's) LMP. So any reprieve is always welcomed by the Great Grumpy!

It was therefore somewhat of a surprise to the Great Grumpy, when he noted the preparations for making of LMP in the Grand Mother's kitchen this past Saturday. Unwittingly, the Great Grumpy uttered some phrase or word which instantly illicited the Grand Mother's infamous pronouncement: "OK, that's it!!" [Ed.Note1:--This phrase usually means that a penalty is about to follow.] She continued, "I was going to make you a LMP, but now you can forget it!!" [Ed. Note 2: -- Forget it? Forget it? How could anyone forget the LMP of the Grand Mother!?]

But, with all the cleverness developed through my vast experience in understanding the Grand Mother, the Great Grumpy meekly acknowledged his wrong-doing (unintended though it was!), pleaded for forgiveness (which was summarily rejected, as usual) and stood by to assist the Grand Mother in anyway she might desire.

Her first request was to be taken to the grocery store for "some supplies, and I'm going to get what I want and I don't want any comments out of you!", she stated emphatically. As I always(?) try to do, I obeyed immediately, opening the car door and holding it as I "usually" do, but this time making a special effort not to slam it closed until she had her leg inside.

As I was helping put away the groceries upon returning home, I noted three (3) lemons. "What are the lemons for?" I asked, smugly aware that three lemons happens to be the exact amount required to make the famous LMP. I had her trapped! I had won!!

Her reply, however, shocked me out of my sensibilities, "I'm going to bake a LMP for Harry!"

Now I was aware that our oldest son, Ward Harry, was to be in the Pacific Northwest the week of 9-12 July 2007. I also was aware that a LMP does not keep well -- at least around here! -- for more than three or four days, at the most. I rather haughtily explained this to her, with the added comment that "they don't keep in the freezer, either!"

Undaunted, the Grand Mother put me in my place with, "Just you wait and see!" I retreated to the background while she wielded the rolling pin -- she was using it on the pie dough, but you can never tell what might happen if a Norwegian with a rolling pin gets upset at you!

I tried to soothe her hurt feelings and get myself back in her good graces by de-zesting the lemons and squeezing the juice from them. I even rinsed and drained the juicer, and, as is my habit, more or less followed her instructions as to how it should properly be done.

A couple hours later, the Grand Mother called me to the kitchen. She pointed to the two pies which had been out of the oven just long enough to cool down sufficiently to cut a piece. I thought she was going to forgive me and beg me to eat one of them right then and there! I was elated.

Instead, she asked, "Please, could you get a picture of these pies? I think they are especially beautiful, don't you? See how that meringue stands up! Don't you think that one on the left looks like a flower?" As I was taking the pictures, the Grand Mother was getting out the dessert plates and glasses, and the milk to drink with the LMP.

What a memorable day!!

But what a miserable night -- note the vanquished pie -- it was a two-Tums stomach ache that night. The Great Grumpy can never exercise moderation when it comes to eating the Grand Mother's Lemon Meringue Pie.

The Lemon Meringue Pie

As the reader will no doubt remember, the probability of a Lemon Meringue Pie (hereinafter, LMP) appearing in the castle of the Great Grumpy Z was forecast recently as "never again". Now this would probably be to the longer life benefit of the Great Grumpy, but tastebuds never forget that delicious aroma and the mouth-watering flavor of the Grand Mother's (aka, First Wife's) LMP. So any reprieve is always welcomed by the Great Grumpy!

It was therefore somewhat of a surprise to the Great Grumpy, when he noted the preparations for making of LMP in the Grand Mother's kitchen this past Saturday. Unwittingly, the Great Grumpy uttered some phrase or word which instantly illicited the Grand Mother's infamous pronouncement: "OK, that's it!!" (Ed.Note1:--This phrase usually means that a penalty is about to follow.) She continued, "I was going to make you a LMP, but now you can forget it!!" (Ed. Note 2: -- Forget it? Forget it? How could anyone forget the LMP of the Grand Mother!?)

But, with all the cleverness developed through my vast experience in understanding the Grand Mother, the Great Grumpy meekly acknowledged his wrong-doing (unintended though it was!), pleaded for forgiveness (which was summarily rejected, as usual) and stood by to assist the Grand Mother in anyway she might desire.

Her first request was to be taken to the grocery store for "some supplies, and I'm going to get what I want and I don't want any comments out of you!", she stated emphatically. As I always(?) try to do, I obeyed immediately, opening the car door and holding it as I "usually" do, but this time making a special effort not to slam it closed until she had her leg inside.

As I was helping put away the groceries upon returning home, I noted three (3) lemons. "What are the lemons for?" I asked, smugly aware that three lemons happens to be the exact amount required to make the famous LMP. I had her trapped! I had won!!

Her reply, however, shocked me out of my sensibilities, "I'm going to bake a LMP for Harry!"

Now I was aware that our oldest son, Ward Harry, was to be in the Pacific Northwest the week of 9-12 July 2007. I also was aware that a LMP does not keep well -- at least around here! -- for more than three or four days, at the most. I rather haughtily explained this to her, with the added comment that "they don't keep in the freezer, either!"

Undaunted, the Grand Mother put me in my place with, "Just you wait and see!" I retreated to the background while she wielded the rolling pin -- she was using it on the pie dough, but you can never tell what might happen if a Norwegian with a rolling pin gets upset at you!

I tried to soothe her hurt feelings and get myself back in her good graces by de-zesting the lemons and squeezing the juice from them. I even rinsed and drained the juicer, and, as is my habit, more or less followed her instructions as to how it should properly be done.

A couple hours later, the Grand Mother called me to the kitchen. She pointed to the two pies which had been out of the oven just long enough to cool down sufficiently to cut a piece. I thought she was going to forgive me and beg me to eat one of them right then and there! I was elated.

Instead, she asked, "Please, could you get a picture of these pies? I think they are especially beautiful, don't you? See how that meringue stands up! Don't you think that one on the left looks like a flower?" As I was taking the pictures, the Grand Mother was getting out the dessert plates and glasses, and the milk to drink with the LMP.

What a memorable day!!

But what a miserable night -- note the vanquished pie -- it was a two-Tums stomach ache that night. The Great Grumpy can never exercise moderation when it comes to eating the Grand Mother's Lemon Meringue Pie.