presence

Last weekend I flew into Dallas and drove with my mom to Brownwood, Texas.  Brownwood is where my late grandmother, Metta Burney, had lived for the last 30 years of her life.  In all my 28 years, I had never known any other "Granny" house other than her home in Brownwood.  The purpose of this trip was to help my mother clean out this house and drive back to Nebraska.  As you can guess, this was a hard weekend.

I handled myself pretty well at Granny's house because most of it was already cleaned out.  I had put myself in "work mode" which allowed me to focus on the tasks at hand and not get distracted by my sadness.  My mom did pretty well, too.  At this point, numbness has been a merciful friend to her.  However, despite both are coping strategies, I really think that we handled the situation so well because Granny was with us in that house.  I know ya'll think I'm weird or crazy... maybe I'm both, but I really felt her presence with me.  This was not the first time I have sensed her near me. 

The first time I felt her was the night before the funeral.  I was laying in bed awake and crying.  I was too upset to fall asleep.  Suddenly, the room began to spin or so I thought.  Initially, I thought I was having a panic attack.  As I began to breathe through the intense feelings of panic, I realized that the room wasn't spinning. It was rocking.... or more like I was being rocked like a baby.  Somebody or something was rocking me and once I got over the initial fear, the sensation was very calming.  In addition to this soothing motion, my grandmother's face appeared in my mind.  She was young and smiling and talking to me.  I don't quite know or remember what she said because I fell asleep shortly after.  The next morning I woke up with a sense of peace...

I felt that same peace while cleaning out Granny's house.  I was going through her bookcases and found an old Bible.  I gave the Bible to my mom and she began crying after opening it.  My mother found a poem that Granny had taped to the title page.  Here is a picture of the poem:

I really don't have to describe for you the feelings I felt after reading this because I think the picture gives you a pretty clear idea.  Death is something that I have always had a hard time understanding, but I am coming to learn that our passed love ones communicate with us.  We just have to be open to receiving their messages. 

Some of you may not believe me and that's okay.  We all grieve in different ways.  Whether my experiences are "real" or not doesn't matter.  What's important is that they are real to me and give me a feeling of serenity.  This serenity allows me to cope with each day without my grandmother.... until I can join her and others whom I love, wherever they are...  Thanks for letting me share.

a tasty tastee

There is a diner in Lincoln called the Tastee In and Out.  It opened in 1948 and has been many people's go-to eatery in town.  A local institution, it's famous for its loose meat sandwiches, onion chips, dip and shakes.  The place's charm includes a tube that sends orders to the kitchen, a drive-through window on the wrong side, and a charming old sign out front.  I'm told that the greasy aroma inside evokes generations of memories.

I'll be honest with you, I have actually never eaten at the Tastee In and Out.  When I hear the term "loose meat sandwich" or "onion chips", unpleasant thoughts drift into my mind.  Do you remember the scene from Billy Madison in the school cafeteria?  You know, the one where the creepy lunch lady says, "Have some more Sloppy Joe's.  I made 'em extra sloppy for ya!"  Well, that's what I think of when I think about Tastee's.  I also think of how tragic it would be to spend an afternoon at work (a middle school) in the bathroom.  Pubescent kids don't let you live something like that down.

Nevertheless, though I have never been to the actual establishment, I have had a Tastee.  That's right, I have actually eaten one of those loose meat concoctions that I fear so much.  I can attribute this experience to the fact that many women in Lincoln have Tastee recipes and it is often go-to fare at social events.  Last year, one of my coworkers invited me and others we over to her house for lunch.  This person, though as kind as she could be, is a horrible cook.  When I found out that she was serving Tastee's, a knot developed in my stomach.  In fear of hurting her feelings, I "took one for the team" and ate her Tastee and found it to be...  HORRIBLE!  It tasted like old meat ground up in a garage disposal,  left there for a week, and shoved into a bun.  My gag reflex is flaring by just talking about it.   So you get my drift...

This summer, I had the awkward experience of insulting my mother-in-law, Cathie, when she offered to make Tastee's for my 4th of July party.  I described my traumatic experience of eating one over lunch to her.  Cathie, who knows the coworker very well, agreed with me in pegging this woman a horrible cook.  Cathie assured me that her Tastee's were much better.  I placed my faith in her and let her serve them at the party.   I worked up the courage to try one again, this time I found it to be... DELIGHTFUL.  God Bless Cathie!  She managed to breakdown my fear over this sandwich.  So as my ode to the Tastee and honoring Cathie (a wonderful cook), I have included her Tastee recipe for your enjoyment...

Tastee Recipe

(from the kitchen of Cathie Petsch)

Take an 8 oz. jar and fill it with the ingredients listed below:

4 oz. of ketchup

3 heaping tsp. of prepared mustard

3 heaping tsp. of Silver Springs Cream Style horseradish

5 heaping tsp. of iodized salt

1/4 tsp. of black pepper

This should fill the jar, if not add more ketchup and stir thoroughly

Place 5 lbs of 85% ground beef in a flat bottom kettle

Pour mixture over the beef in the kettle

Fill the same 8 oz. jar with warm water and pour over the meat

Fill the same 8 oz. jar with ground yellow onions and pour into kettle

Add a heaping tsp. of Accent Flavor Enhancer on top of meat

Take a wooden spoon to stir and mix ingredients

Over a low flame stir meat and mixture constantly with wooden spoon for about 15 min or until meat is    broken apart finely

Then, increase heat about 1/4 until it boils, let boil about 25 minutes stirring every few minutes so it doesn't stick

happy birthday granny margaret!

On Sunday, September 11, Adam and I had his lovely family over for his grandmother's 93rd birthday.  It was a late summer, potluck lunch and we had wonderful food.  A good time was had by all, the kids went swimming, the adults sun bathed and drank, and AP's sweet Granny Margaret was pampered.  She told me that she felt so special and loved the celebration.  It felt so good to hear that from her.  Here are some pictures of the celebration.

table decorations

Granny's banner

The Petsch Family

Great Grands (from left): Chloe, Sam, Cael, Sarah, Ruby, and Josie

Brent and Gretchen enjoying the party

AP and Ruby

Granny blowing out her candle

Me, Cousin Kris, and Cousin Rachael

on the pulse of morning

I hate conflict... always have.  My way of dealing with conflict is to avoid it.  So yesterday, on the 10th anniversary of one the most horrendous events in our nation's history, what do you think I did?  I avoided it.  No television, no newspaper.  I knew what they were going to say.  I avoided remembering and honoring those who lost their lives in my own selfish act of emotional preservation.  It hurts too much to remember.  However, today... the day after the 10th anniversary of this horrific event, I am remembering.  I am choosing to remember and honor.

When tragic events happen, so often we honor those involved on the event's anniversaries.  But what happens the day after?  It's just another day, but that doesn't take the pain away.  So, I am writing this post to acknowledge the pain associated with 9/11.  Just because the day has passed doesn't mean we stop feeling it's after shock.

This morning began like any other Monday.  I don't work on Mondays, so I have the flexibility to read in the mornings.  I was still avoiding 9/11, unconsciously thinking the 10th anniversary is over so I don't have to be sad about it anymore.  But, then I opened Maya Angelou's Celebrations: Rituals of Peace and Prayer.  Her poem, "On the Pulse of Morning" forced me to remember.  I would like to share her words with you:

A Rock, a River, a Tree,
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor.
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly,
     forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my back
And face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long,
Face down in ignorance,
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand
     on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made, proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.  Come,
Clad in peace, and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French,
     the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The Privileged, the Homeless, the Teacher.
They hear.  They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind.  Come to me, here
     beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside
     the River.

Each of you, descendant of some
Passed-on traveler, has been paid for.
You who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache, and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then,
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the
     employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.
You the Turk, the Swede, the German,
     the Italian, the Scot,
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
     bought,
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare,
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need.  Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of
     change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day,
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up, and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country,
And say simply,
Very simply,
With hope,
Good morning.

Ms. Angelou's elegant words spoke to me this morning.  She said, "Do not forget or avoid.  Instead remember, and it's okay to feel that pain.  But, use the pain and memories to forgive and make today better, worth living for."

Today, the day after, I will remember and use those memories to push forward.  Thanks for letting me share, I hope you can use my post to help push you forward, too.

puppy love

I have always liked dogs, but I never really became a dog person until I met Adam.  Well, take that back... I never became a dog person until I met Ella.  AP had gotten her two years before we met in London.  Immediately, I learned it was pretty clear that Ella was an important lady in this man's life.  In fact, the future of our relationship had rested in Ella's hands... err, paws, I guess.  If she didn't like me, then Adam wouldn't date me.  I know y'all are laughing right now, but this was no joke.  My fate with this rugged Nebraskan was up to a canine.  I'd never been so nervous about a dog in all of my life!  Luckily, it was love at first sight for both Ella and me.  I knew right away from the ferocious licking and puddle of pee at my feet that this furry gal loved and accepted me for just being me.

Family Picture for Christmas Cards

I feel it is important to share the story of how Adam decided to get Ella... more like how they chose each other.  Adam had wanted to get out of his lease at a place where dogs were not allowed.  What better way to get kicked out than get a dog!  AP's friend, Clark, lived on a farm and his female rottweiler, Shae, had gotten pregnant by the neighbor's blue heeler.  This act of puppy love resulted in a huge litter of "blue-weiler" puppies.  Some of the puppies were crazy-looking mongrels, with longer hair and more colors to reveal their heeler traits.  The other puppies resembled their mother, painted like rottweilers with sleeker bodies.  Adam had his heart set on a mongrel (go figure).

When Adam went down in Clark's basement to pick out a puppy, his ankles were attacked by the little mongrel, heeler-looking puppies.  There was only one rottweiler-looking puppy left.  Instead of following her litter mates actions in attacking this new human, she sat back and watched the spectacle.  AP immediately noticed this pensive little thing and inquired about her.  Clark described how this little female was the runt and at first he had had to pull another pup off of Shae's boob, so that this little one could feed.  It was the only puppy Clark had ever held.  As you can guess, Clark's not really a "touchy-feely" kind of guy, so it was really something that he would go out of his way to make sure that this puppy got fed.  In fact, Clark said, "If I were to pick one, I would pick her."

I really don't have to tell you much else about that pivotal moment... everyone knows what happened after that.  Adam brought this little gal home and with the suggestion from his mother, named her Ella Blue (after the jazz singer) for her blue-heeler heritage.  She has been a loving member of the family ever since.

AP with Ella the first night

I not a crazy dog lady or anything... I mean, not in the sense where I wear doggy sweatshirts or have crocheted poodles around my house.  I don't take Ella to the mall every year to get her picture taken in a Scarlet O'Hara outfit.  But man, I love this dog so much.  Believe it or not, she has been an influential part of my life here in Nebraska.  She sleeps in bed with us every night, often leaving Adam or myself hanging onto the edge of the bed for dear life.  When I was sick with the stomach flu, she laid on the floor by the couch, never leaving my side.  She knows when Adam and I are sad.  She knows when we are happy...  and she is so excited to see me when I get home everyday, making me feel like a rock star even if I've had a bad day.

Portrait of Ella by Lauren Larkin

If your reading this, you are probably thinking I am certifiably nuts.  Well, there is actually research out there that suggests that dogs (and cats) are good for one's health.  So there is a legitimate reason while I feel so strongly about Ella and her influence in my life.  Here are some of the wellness benefits dogs and cats can produce in us that I found on the web:

1.  Critters can improve your mood
2.  Pets control blood pressure better than drugs
3.  Pets encourage you to get out and exercise
4.  They can help with social support
5.  Critters stave off loneliness and provide unconditional love
6.  Pets can reduce stress (sometimes more than people)

Ella catching a Frisbee

So there you have it.  Call me a crazy dog lady, I don't care.  At least I have good health and a positive outlook on life... thanks to Ella's health enhancing essence.  Here is the website with more information on the health benefits of pets: http://stress.about.com/od/lowstresslifestyle/a/petsandstress.htm

big red in the big ten

Today was the Nebraska Cornhuskers' first game of the season.  Expectations were high as the Huskers began their first year in the Big Ten.  This game was a first for me as well... the first time I wore a red, Huskers' shirt.  Yep, it has taken eight years for me to accept my fate of becoming a Husker fan and joining the sea of red.  I know, it just doesn't make sense.  However, I did not forget my Longhorns.  Today, I wore an orange and white bracelet in honor of UT.  Here are some of my favorite pictures of attending Husker games or other Husker moments.  Notice in one picture I am wearing red; however, the top did not have any wording on it to affiliate it with this team.

Adam with OU fans at Big 12 Championship Game in 2006

With Adam's parents at a tailgate

Our friend, Seth, making my stepdad, Kevin, wear a Husker hat

My friend, Melissa, and I in the rain at a game

The Huskers played Tennessee Chattanooga.  They won the game with a final score of 40-7.  That sounds great, right.  Hmmm... not so much.  Though the Huskers won this game, there were clearly some offensive line issues.  Unfortunately, the Huskers were in trouble when Taylor Martinez (quarterback) was passing and not running.  I've never really been a T-Magic fan for that very reason.  He also comes across as arrogant and a bit on the crazy side.  But enough about T-Magic and the game, I want to focus on the important stuff - the Wiener Shlinger and red balloons.

My favorite thing about going to Husker games are the traditions.  After the first touchdown or field goal, the fans release tons and tons of red balloons into the sky.  This is probably really bad for the environment and the poor pigeons eating popped balloon rubber... but man, it is a really cool site to see.  Here are pictures of the balloons being released.  Much better if you see it in person, but still gives you an idea of the experience.  The song "99 Red Balloons" pops in my head every time this happens at a game. I encourage you to sing as you browse through these two pictures.

Another tradition that takes place at the games is the "Der Wiener Shlinger".  A fat guy in a butcher coat walks around and shoots hot dogs out into the stands with a t-shirt gun.  People go nuts for these hot dogs.  Yes, these bovine treats are very tasty and the wiener is dyed red in honor of the Huskers.  These dogs are good, but one would think he was shooting one hundred dollar bills at people the way they push, shove, and jump over seats to get one.  In 2006, I had the privilege of walking around with the fat butcher, Conrad, and his side kick (I'll just call him "short, yoked guy" because I can't remember his name).  I was working for Heartland Big Brothers Big Sisters and one of the bigs on my caseload was short, yoked guy.  He invited me to participate in the "shlinging" of wieners for the first half of a game.  I had a blast that game and got the sheer satisfaction of hitting one guy of the side of the head.  I got to talk a lot with Conrad and found out that he was a successful business owner... who knew he had a life beyond his hotdog calling.  Despite these positive qualities I found in Conrad, I labeled him a dirty, old man after catching him taking pictures of cheerleaders in the midst of toe touches.  Nevertheless, Conrad's creepiness did not keep me from enjoying the experience.  I even found Adam in the stands and discovered after a dozen hotdogs that the t-shirt gun has zero percent accuracy.  Below are some pictures from that game with my fellow shlingers.

Me and short, yoked guy

With Conrad - the dirty, old man

the cucumber tastes better when it's pickled...

One of the many things I love about Nebraska is its rural, rustic charm.  Yes, many friends of mine are probably laughing at me because I would be the last person they would imagine to love something "rural" or "rustic."  However, spending time here has allowed me to appreciate Nebraska's many natural offerings (i.e., summer thunderstorms, lightning bugs, wildflowers, etc.).  Lately, I have really taken advantage of eating local produce by visiting the Lincoln Farmers' Market, buying sweet corn on the side of the road, and accepting generous amounts of vegetables from home gardens.  A dear friend and colleague recently gave me tons of her home grown cucumbers.  At first I didn't know what to do with all of them, but Adam made a request for his grandmother's "Ice Box" pickles.  I was hesitant to make these pickles because they are sweet.  I have never really been a fan of bread and butter pickles... I am a dill girl, myself.  However, my husband assured me that I would like recipe.  Man, he was right.  These pickles are delightful, especially on a summer day.  I wanted to share the recipe because they are so good.  Some of the ingredients are not exact, but it is not too hard to figure out how much you need.  So enjoy!

Ice Box Pickles

(From the kitchen of Margaret Petsch)

4 cups white sugar

4 cups apple cider vinegar

1/2 cup pickling salt

1&1/3 tsp. of tumeric

1&1/3 tsp. of celery seed

1&1/3 tsp. of mustard seed

cucumbers 

small white onions

Mix the sugar, vinegar, pickling salt, tumeric, celery seed, and mustard seed all together until the sugar is dissolved.  DO NOT HEAT.  Wash and sterilize mason jars (I put a drop of dish soap and run really hot water in the jar to sterilize it).  Slice one onion into each jar.  Score cucumbers and thinly slice, packing somewhat tightly with onions in the jars.   Pour the stirred liquid mixture over cucumbers and onions into each jar.  Refrigerate for 5 days before eating.  Enjoy!