52 Pieces of Me - Part 10

I have always loved hanging clothes on a line. I remember helping my mom back in the day. And then, when Jeff was little I hung all his diapers and such. We simply didn’t have a dryer. A couple months ago our dryer broke and I started hanging the clothes on our line. Basically just to get the laundry done. I realized I am really enjoying it. Our dryer is fixed now but I am still hanging them out. OK – they aren’t as soft and cozy but I love the way they smell and how much I can save by hanging them out. My plan at the moment is to hang them out until the weather turns and it is simply too cold or wet to do it any longer. I am sure I would have never returned to this if I still had 7 kids at home. There would have been way too much toting and carrying to deal with. But with just 3 of us at home, it is totally doable. So now you know my retro quirk.

Have a good one.

Desire to feel Safe

I have decided to redo SA’s room. Tear up the carpet, which is gross. Remove the wall paper, put down a fake wood floor and paint. Maybe by redoing it I will start to wrap my brain around the concept that I am safe and he isn’t coming home. Tho until I find a long term (he turns 18 in 9 months) placement, I will continue to have the fear in the back of my mind that someone sitting at a desk down in Oklahoma City, making minimum wage, will make the bizarre decision once again to send him home. Last time it was “he hasn’t threatened to kill his mom in 3 weeks; it is time to send him home.” So, am I the only person that doesn’t make sense to? At the moment he is still VERY verbal that he wants to kill both Patty and myself. I think the hospital got a good look at his violent nature the other night. He went into a rage, threw chairs, kicked his shoes so hard they were embedded in the ceiling, and had to be placed in locked isolation. Tho before they got him in there, he preceded to tell the staff exactly what he planned to do to them when he got out. They always seem to believe me a tad bit better after they get a up close and personal demonstration of his violent rages. I go to family therapy tomorrow, should be interesting. Dennis is going with me. I feel safer that way.

Pineapple Delight

This is another of my mom’s favorites. It was one of my favorites as well. It is VERY rich, a little goes a long way. ENJOY!!!

10 - 12 oz vanilla wafers or graham crackers
½ lb margarine
1 lb powdered sugar
1/3 c. pineapple or apple sauce
1 large can crushed pineapple, well drained
1 pint whipped cream, whipped
1 tsp vanilla

Crush wafers or graham crackers. Place ½ on bottom of the 9 x 13 pan. Make batter by beating softened butter, slowly adding powdered sugar. Beat well. Add pineapple sauce. Add flavoring. Spread over wafers in the pan. Next, spread well drained pineapple. Next, spread the whipped cream (no sugar added). Sprinkle remaining crushed wafers on top. Allow to set in refrigerator at least 3 – 4 hours. Can easily remain several days. Serves 12 – 16.

52 Pieces of Me - Part 9

One of the challenging parts of being adopted is not knowing your family history. In a lot of ways your history starts with you. Many times I have been to a new Dr and I have to tell them that if I don’t have it then I have no clue about anyone else ever having it. Do I have a family history of heart problems, cancer or diabetes? I have no clue. Another thing that is hard is not knowing your heritage. Growing up I always thought I was French and Indian. I have no idea why I started saying that. Maybe my parents were speculating by my looks. I know my dad called me Pocahontas all the time so I think maybe I got the Indian part from that. Finally in the mid 90’s I met my birth mom and found out I am ½ Norwegian as she is 100% - parents came from Norway – Norwegian. As for the other ½ - well, I guess I will just never know since she didn’t know my dad. Long story for another post – maybe. But at least I am finally grounded with ½ a heritage.

My dad was into tracing the family roots. I supported him in that endeavor but I just couldn’t get real excited about it. I had no genetic ties to these people he was finding. Nice people, I am sure, just not biologically related to me. Maybe someday I will trace my actual family roots. Now that should be both a challenge and interesting.

Until next time, Adios.