Auntie Gayle Cookbook

When my parents got married, some 33 ½ years ago, my aunt gave my mom an amazing gift. It was a cookbook, filled with my dad’s favorite recipes. To this day it is the most used cookbook in the kitchen. It’s falling apart, pages are ripped and dirty and possibly missing, but I use it every time I go home to make my dad shortbread cookies for Christmas.

Having used this cookbook all my life, and knowing what an amazing cook and baker my aunt is, I wanted my own Auntie Gayle cookbook. I told her this a few years ago and she told me that when I got married, I could have a cookbook too. I responded laughingly with, “That’s great, but I still have to eat until then.” I knew she’d been working on putting something together, setting aside recipes since we’d had the discussion, but I had no idea when this cookbook would make its way to my kitchen.

Much to my surprise, when I arrived at my aunt’s house for Thanksgiving, a cookbook was sitting on my bed! Instead of a wedding gift, it turned into a 30th birthday present. What an amazing present! It has all my favorite recipes and some new ones and I can’t wait to use it. I’m so excited to have my very own Auntie Gayle cookbook!

Thanksgiving Memories

With the scent of turkey and fresh baked buns in the air, I decided to reminisce about my favorite Thanksgiving memories. And then I realized I didn't have any. I have memories of doing things on Thanksgiving weekends, like my dad inviting me to go hunting for the first time or going shopping with my mom or playing games at my aunt and uncles house. Nothing about the day stands out except general memories of being well fed and loved.

What I realized is that while I don’t have a favorite memory, I do vividly remember the worst ones. So I’m counting down my top three worst thanksgiving memories.

#3) I was in college and instead of going home to Montana for turkey, I was spending it with my aunt and uncle who live south of Seattle. This was the first time I've ever tried to drive anywhere the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Not being one to skip classes (yeah, I was one of those), I got a late start.out of McMinnville. Previously my experience with traffic was getting stuck behind the school bus or our grandma-like driver neighbor, Ben. This kind of “traffic” does not prepare a person for Portland and Seattle holiday traffic. Traffic turned what should have been no more than a 4 hour drive into almost an 8 hour drive. Nothing quite like driving up I-5 at walking speed to start off the holiday!

#2) The year my mom decided I needed to learn how to cook a turkey. She thought that I needed to learn how so someday I could cook a turkey for my own family. Here is what I learned: raw poultry (chicken, etc.) is gross. Raw turkeys are disgusting because they still have their innards. Who on earth decided it was a good idea to take the turkey apart and get it ready to cook, then stuff some innards back in? Gross, gross, gross. She hasn't made me help cook the turkey since.

#1) My worst Thanksgiving ever. I was young, maybe fourth grade. My mother decided that this was the year we were going to eat all the most disgusting vegetables available in one sitting. Admittedly, I was a picky eater then (and now), but there are a lot of things that I didn't eat as a kid that I eat now. But I still do not eat any of those repulsive vegetables to this day. Squash and brussel sprouts and yams, oh ewwww. I thought I was going to be sick. Apparently so did the 'rents because I was sent to sit in the bathroom while everyone else finished dinner. Nary a squash or brussel sprout has touched these lips since.

May your turkey be moist, your potatoes un-lumpy, and dessert plentiful. Happy Thanksgiving!

Being Thankful

Each year around (American) Thanksgiving time, I like to join in the tradition of pausing to actually think about what I am thankful for. The short list follows:

While it seems obvious to be thankful that I have a warm place to sleep and don’t need to worry about where my next meal comes from, I am thankful for these things. On my walk to and from work, I have to go through the section of town that houses the majority of the homeless. There are lines of people coming out of the soup kitchens and missions. There are times I literally have to walk in the street because so many homeless are crowding under a single canopy of a building to avoid the rain that the sidewalk is full. And yet the people never cease to be friendly. I am constantly met with a smile and “Good morning!” And even the occasional, “You look beautiful.” (I’m pretty sure its because I have all my teeth.) So not only am I thankful that I do not have to live on the street, I’m grateful that somehow the people who do are friendly and kind and remind me that where you sleep doesn’t define you as a person.

I’m thankful that my mom forced me to learn how to cook as a kid. My parents suffered through many meals of hamburger helper while trying to teach me to follow a recipe. It’s because of them that when a guy asks if I can cook, I can answer in the affirmative. And if they inquire further as to if my definition of cooking means more than boiling water, I can deck them.

I am thankful for my friends. It never ceases to amaze me how I ended up with such great friends. Friends to spend Saturday’s tailgating with, to go camping with, to complain and gossip with and to do craft nights with. Friends who love it when you invite yourself to visit just because. And friends who will answer the phone with, “Where are you? I’m grabbing my keys and am on my way to get you,” because you don’t normally talk on the phone so it must be an emergency. Friends that love you for who you are. Even if you’re cynical and stubborn.

I’m thankful that my parents never told me there was an option not to go to college. And that my parents strongly encouraged education. I’m also thankful that with a MBA behind me, I never have to go back to school if I don’t want to.

I am thankful for my family. I have the most incredible immediate and extended family. We are a family that supports each other with out question. We like to spend time together and do it as often as possible. We are a family that will travel hundreds of miles to be there for a special occasion. A family that is always happy to see or hear from each other. Enough amazing things cannot be said about my family. It was something I took for granted as a kid. It’s something I treasure and am proud of as an adult.

In addition to all that serious stuff, I’m truly thankful for two days off from work. November is brutal in my office and I am looking forward to some rest, relaxation, delicious food and football. And that all I have to do is bring the wine.

Hmmm . . .perhaps I’m most thankful that my dear friends and family actually read my blog! Happy Thanksgiving!

Dads & Daughters

I wonder what other girls talk about with their dads. This question has been nagging at me since I got off the phone with my dad last night. I know one dad who talks to his grown daughters every single day. My dad and I are more on the once a month schedule. And it usually happens because my mom isn’t home.

A couple years ago my parents finally got caller ID, so at least now my dad will answer the phone when he hears the computer generated voice echoing through the house with “Heidi’s cell.” He’ll pick up, ask me how I’m doing and what’s the weather like in Portland? After discussing the weather, the next thing he says is usually “Well, good talking to you. I’ll go find your mom so you can talk to her.” For some reason, the two minute conversation never ceases to amuse me. Mostly because it always seems like the phone is a hot potato and he’s got to get rid of it. To be fair, most of the time I call home, I am calling to talk to my mom.

While my dad and I get along and like each other, we are very different people with different interests. One thing we have in common is being absurdly stubborn. Ask any of my friends, they’ll confirm this. I’m stubborn, and don’t really care to do something I’m not interested in. It turns out that I come by this honestly, as my dad is the exact same way. When you have two people who are stubborn, someone has to bend if you hope to have any sort of relationship. Having decided that I wanted a relationship with both my parents, in the past it’s usually been me that has bent. I’ve watched countless hours of James Bond movies with my dad and brother, just to be part of the camaraderie. After ten or so, you start to enjoy them and now I look forward to the Christmas Day James Bond marathon. I also kept shooting guns. Not because it was of particular interest to me at the time, although I do enjoy it now, but because it was a way to spend time with my dad. To my dads utter disappointment, I was not a hunter. This was one thing I refused to bend on. Hiking through the dark and snow only to have to drag hundreds of pounds of meat out of the woods if you’re successful is not my idea of fun.

All of this to lead back to the phone conversation I had with my dad last night. After exchanging the usual pleasantries and weather talk, my dad and I had a very long conversation about college football. I know he finds it amusing/bewildering that his kids enjoy being sports spectators, but it’s nice that he asks about the team I follow. I’m not sure if he doesn’t enjoy sports or just doesn’t follow them, but I appreciate that he’s made an effort to talk about something that I really enjoy. And that he pays enough attention to college football to be able to have a conversation with me.

So after at least a 10-minute conversation about college football with my dad, I found myself sitting there wondering what on earth do other girls talk about their dads with? I talked to a friend at work about it and wondered out loud if it was weird that college football was our conversation topic. My guy friend informed me, “That’s not weird, that’s awesome.” And so it is.

Playing Dress Up

Today for work, I’m wearing a cardigan that I picked up off the floor. This is not the first time I’ve done this. It is however the first time I’ve realized just how lazy I’ve gotten about dressing for work.

In college, I used to dress up about once a week and wear business casual type clothes. Nothing fancy, just fancier than the jeans and a hoodie that I wore every other day. I remember telling my mom that I wanted to work in an office where you had to dress nice every day. Due to this thought, I wasn’t too disappointed to not get a job in an office where the person interviewing me had holes in his decades old sweatshirt and cargo shorts.

Seven plus years into this working full time gig, I’m over the dressing up every day thing. Although not quite to the point of wanting to wear clothes with holes in them to work. I’ve gotten increasingly lazy as time goes by. It started with the shoe drawer. I have a drawer of a filing cabinet dedicated to shoes simply so I don’t have to drag them back and forth with me every day. Next came the realization that you can wear just about anything under a cardigan or suit jacket. Not too long ago one of the guys I work with asked me “are you wearing a north face shirt to work?” In fact I was. But worn under a cardigan, it was almost unnoticeable.

But picking clothes up off the floor is relatively new for work wear. In my defense, I work with mostly guys and they never notice that type of thing. In fact, one day I wore my Chaco’s all day instead of changing into work shoes just to see if anyone would notice. No one did.

Now it’s become almost a game of seeing what I can get away and still be presentable for work. Today I had to figure out what I could wear to a client meeting in the morning and happy hour after work. Again, this is where the realization that you can wear anything under a cardigan or suit jacket is key. Throw on a jacket for the meeting. Take it off for the bar.

While wearing something off the floor may not be the classiest thing in the world, it sure does make it easier to get dressed in the morning.