Thanks Mom: Bread and Eggs / Pain Perdu
Sometimes when my daughter in law is nursing, she gets very hungry. So while she is feeding the baby, I spoon or fork-feed her. It is a wonderful time for me, to be able to nurture and nourish this dear woman who loves our son and bears and nurtures his child. This morning, it was Pain Perdu with little slices of cantaloupe. (I had to look up ‘cantaloupe’ twice. I had no idea spelling cantaloupe was so difficult!)
Thanks, Mom. Bread and Eggs was a big hit. (I also notice that the majority of entries under Pain Perdu look more like what we call French Toast than bread and eggs.)
When I was little, we always loved it when our Dad went away on a trip because he hated eggs, and when he left, Mom would make Bread and Eggs, something they used to make in her family to use up bread which may have gone stale and hard.
It is delicious, but you would not want to eat it often. You start by melting butter – I used about half a stick of butter – and sautéing small bread cubes at a moderately high temperature. Throw in some fresh chopped parsley, or cilantro, keep stirring until the bread cubes are browned. It will smell delicious!
Meanwhile, mix four eggs with a little non-fat half and half, and when the cubes are browned, turn down the heat to moderately low and pour in the eggs. Let them cook for a good minute before you stir things around, and I even use a pancake flipper to flip entire portions while the top is still liquid, so the bread cubes get entirely encased.
Serve when fully cooked.
Change of Plans
When we were planning this trip, it all sounded so simple . . . greet the grandbaby, buy a house, quick, fly to Seattle, fly back to Pensacola, kiss the grandbaby and fly to Doha to pack.
Not quite the way it turned out. When we got here, the grandbaby was 11 days overdue. We got to be here for the birth. While our son and his wife labored, we went out with the world’s most wonderful real estate lady and actually, we did find a house.
Three years ago, we found a house. When I talked with the mortgage people, I said “We just finished paying off a mortgage with you; isn’t there some kind of short-cut you could do with me?” and they did something called “fast track” with me, and it was so easy I can’t even remember the paperwork; I think I filled it out on my computer – online – and that was it. My son handled the closing. It was so easy.
Things have really changed. This will be our third mortgage with the same company, but you would think we are potential deadbeats. We have high credit scores, an impeccable payment record – I would think they would want to have us as customers! It’s like pulling teeth. Papers don’t get to us. Additional verifications are required. Appraisers actually enter the house and verify square footage.
Between chasing paper and soothing the newborn, my life has been very full. It doesn’t sound very exciting, when I tell you about it, but here is the truth – I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now. It’s an amazing feeling.
Today, I spent a lot of time with the baby. At some point, I realized I wasn’t going to make it to Seattle this trip, and it’s OK. I can go to Seattle later. For right now, I have enough on my plate.
I had forgotten, too, how chaotic life with a newborn can be. His needs take precedence, and sometimes we all run around trying to guess what those needs might be, simple as they are . . . clean diaper? swaddling / soothing to sleep? Mother’s milk? Today was a really good day, where he took the diaper changes with grace, dropped right off to sleep after every meal, and was keenly alert for maybe a half hour after feeding before napping. He loves patterns and fabrics. I am having SO MUCH FUN!
A part of our life is ending, the nomadic part. AdventureMan and I have had a lot of fun, once our son got through college and law school, we were on our own again, living in Europe, living in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Qatar – we have had a great adventure. We travelled to Botswana, Namibia, Zambia (several times), South Africa, Kenya, Tanzania and spent a wonderful week on Mnemba Island off the coast of Zanzibar. We have wonderful friends, mostly from churches and interest groups. I would think, knowing us, that we would be sad leaving all this, but instead, we are racing toward our new future, being more settled, being near our son and his family, and his wife’s great big family. 🙂
For one thing, the world has changed. With e-mail and VOIP phones and people who jump on a plane at the drop of a hat, we expect to stay in touch with those we love and treasure. We expect they will come see us. It’s kind of fun settling in a place with white sandy beaches that everyone wants to come visit. 🙂 Cooler than Kuwait and Qatar in the summer time, too! Nice warm winters, well, not this winter, brrrrrrrrrrrr!
Thought you might want to see a photo of my little darling grandson:
Warrior Woman Does Not Buy a New Car
It’s a beautiful day in Pensacola, I had baby duty all morning, but the afternoon is mine. I’ve been wanting to buy a new car; I could buy it and have it waiting for me when I come back. I know the car I want, the model, the color, everything I want – and do not want. The only thing that holds me back is that I hate the whole car buying process. I remember Saturn – nice car, pretty colors, drove well and you walk in and there is one price, and that is the price for everyone. I don’t know what happened. They stopped making Saturns.
So first, I just decided to see if I could find the place. I found it. Then I decided to drive around the lot and see what they had. I did that. Then I decided just to walk into the lobby and see if they had anything like price sheets there, although I had already done my research online. There was a nice young man waiting outside just for me, and he took me on a test drive. Here is what is really cool. Have you ever driven a car so new that it had one mile on the odometer?
I love the car. I had one like it before. This particular car had some features I didn’t care about and don’t want to pay for.
I know what I want. I know what I want to pay. He showed me figures. I told him what I wanted and what I was willing to pay. He printed out a bunch of stuff so he could explain to me why the car he wanted to sell me was going to cost more. I told him what I wanted and what I was willing to pay for it. He had to go talk to his manager. He came back with more figures. I told him what I wanted and what I was willing to pay for it. He went to get his manager.
I told him what I wanted and what I was willing to pay for it. He said he couldn’t sell me the car at that price, so I smiled and shook everybody’s hands and thanked them for their time and I left, after more discussion. I think they were shocked I walked out. I was shocked too.
And delighted.
“But you still don’t have the car!” my son reminded me.
I know I don’t have the car. It’s OK. I have time. I don’t know if this makes sense to you, but I just feel so good! I didn’t buy a car I didn’t want! I stuck by my guns! I know what I want (and what I don’t want and don’t want to pay for) and what I am willing to pay, and I believe with all my heart I am going to find my car at my price (it’s a reasonable price.) I am so proud of myself for not being talked into buying the car I didn’t want at the price I didn’t want to pay!
Warming Up in Pensacola
This guy hurts my eyes. I remember reading a book called Almost French, an Australian woman married a French guy, and one morning as she was about to run down to the boulangerie in her sweats, her French boyfriend had a very pained expression on his face and said “Please! Please put on something else! You don’t want to hurt people’s eyes!”
Pensacola is warming. No matter how much Pensacola warms, I think a shirt would be a good idea.
Who Will be my Friends?
This will be my 31st move.
When I moved back to Doha, as I sighed and packed boxes, I took a few minutes to sit down and count them up. 31 moves. A lifetime of changing houses . . .
Until I get to the new location, I am caught up in the crushing details of moving – decisions on what to take, what to leave and to whom, closing accounts, opening accounts, blah blah blah. It can be overwhelming. I always think about that old joke about “how do you eat an elephant?” and the answer is “one bite at a time.” It’s the same with moving. Don’t look at the big picture, just keep moving, one detail at a time, and it all works out.
But when I get there, I wonder who will be my friends? It can be a lonely 6 months to a year while waiting for the right friends to come along. I make friends easily, but the ones who are going to stick, those tried and true friends – it takes a while to figure out who those are going to be.
We are lucky this time, we have family waiting for us. Our son is already educating us on how to pronounce local streets and areas (No, Mom, not “Sehr-vahn’-teys” as the Spanish would say it, but “Sir-van’tees”, not “Tex’-are” but “Te-har”, LOL) and what attitudes and perceptions we might best keep to ourselves if we want to get along.
We want to get along. Ironically, moving back to our own country is more daunting than moving to another expat community. The expat communities are relatively open and fluid, people coming and going all the time, willing to accept new members and welcome them in. This move is going to be to a very different life and a very different community from that in which we have lived the last thirty something years . . . God always sends me good friends. I just wonder who those friends will be?
One Brown Glove
Have I told you how cold it is in Pensacola?
People here are in fur coats, and gloves!
Today we drove up the Bayou and saw what we thought might be a run-over animal on the road, but it turned out to be one brown glove.
We were laughing at how easy it is to lose gloves – to end up with one of several different pairs. My Mom used to make us wear mittens that had a string attatching them; you ran it through the coat and out both arms so you wouldn’t be losing so many mittens. In Alaska, you really need those mittens.
I still have a pair of Nordic mittens my Mom knit me. No. No. They are not attached by strings; they are grown up mittens, LLLOOOOLLLL!
Honey Baked Apples
“If you really want to make something I like . . . I really really like those baked apples.”
My daughter in law and I hate the term daughter-in-law and mother-in-law. We wish there were nicer words for the relationship we enjoy so much. I really do want her to be happy, and I want to make life with a new baby easier, so I am glad there is something I can do that will make life sweeter.
I made this recipe up from things we keep on hand in the house. I don’t think it matters what kind of apples you use; it is the honey, nuts and cinnamon that make this SOOOOOO good:
Heat oven to 350°F/180°C
apples – cut in half, scoop out seeds with a spoon, cut off stem or end pieces
chopped pecans, or walnuts – fill each apple cavity
honey – pour honey into each apple cavity over pecans, and drizzle a little over the rest of the apple
cinnamon – sprinkle lightly with cinnamon
cloves – sprinkle with a tiny bit of ground cloves
Spray a baking dish with olive oil (you do have a Misto, don’t you?) Place apples in, cut side up, fill with pecans, drizzle with honey, sprinkle with cinnamon and clove. Pop into oven and bake at 350°/180° for one hour – one hour and a quarter. Remove from oven and let cool slightly before eating.
This is a very healthy fruit dessert, but you can add a little vanilla ice cream and it will still taste good, LOL, it will also add calories. 🙂
This is what they look like when they are ready to go into the oven:
Famous Dave’s BBQ
Oh WOW.
AdventureMan wanted just one more BBQ meal to tide him over until he returns to Pensacola. We headed for Famous Dave’s, because they are really, really good.
AdventureMan had the pulled pork sandwich with baked beans and cole slaw:
I had the catfish platter, with baked beans and a cob of corn:
The catfish came with two sauces, a remoulade and a Thai sweet/hot sauce, but I prefer the BBQ sauces:
Oh my friends – Kuwait and Qatar need Famous Dave’s!
Fat Tuesday and Beads
“That’s not tinsel, Mom,” my son said, “They’re beads. People throw them during the Mardi Gras parade, and they stick in the trees. And it’s not Shrove Tuesday, it’s Fat Tuesday, here in Pensacola.”
Oh.
Today I needed to do a couple trips downtown and so I looked closely at all the colorful objects sparkling in the trees after the Mardi Gras parades. Yep. He was right. Beads.
It is still cold in Pensacola. The temperature as I was driving around this morning was just above freezing. But it is cold – and clear – and sunny, and those beads sparkle in the sunlight.
Tonight we are having Jambalaya for Fat Tuesday, the night before Lent starts. I have little Q sleeping next to me. Life is sweet in Pensacola. 🙂
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