My Mom suffers from Dementia. A bold, out of no where statement, that seems to have no foundation. A very “true to life” occurrence.
It is all to often the way we are given information. A shot, hard and fast, in the head, the gut or the Arse. It is just there. Deal with it!
I do not have as much contact with my mom as I would like, Most of the time she has no idea who I am. I hate the idea that I might be the cause of fear, confusion and her own frailties eating at her. Between Christmas and New Years, I took a chance that another family member might be there. I called, and had a 30 minute conversation with her. She knew me, recognized my voice and was delighted to ask about where I was living, how the kids and grand kids are. She asked really good questions, and was really engaged. Then she asked them all again. She asked for my mailing address, I gave it, One line at a time, and waited as she recited it back, as if she were writing it down. She forgot the write it down part. It was a few minutes later, she asked for the address. I acknowledged that we had started that, and asked her to read back what she had, so I could finish giving it to her. She didn’t have paper. I reminded her where she keeps the pad, and waited for her to be ready to write it down. This went back and forth, with her finially being able to read my address back to me. I was wondering what else to try and talk about, or end the call when she asked me, ‘What recipe did you want? Remind me Honey, you understand how hard this is” My eyes glazed over, and I was blinking faster than I knew how to cope. I had not asked for a recipe, She had wanted to have the address. In that moment, I said the first thing that came to mind, “Grace’s Scotties” was the reply. She gulped, and told me that Grace is her cousin, but It was just a couple seconds before she was saying something unrelated.
I heard my Nephew’s dog barking in the background, and then additional voices, so the chance to end the call with out hardship presented itself. I took it, knowing that we had shared one of those rare “Warm Moments’. I was in tears as we hung up the phone.
I was thinking about the disease process, the years we had wasted wishing the other was something other than who we are. I was just feeling melancholy and sad. I was thinking of my older Brother who loved Graces Scotties more than any other human being I knew. Dave passed away about a year ago. I was just SAD. I also decided that I wanted that recipe. I would have to ask my other brother to dig it out for me. Not an easy task, as he had all the patients in the world for Mom’s issues, but not for hunting through years worth of clutter, trying not to find something.
Fast forward to this morning. I wanted to make bread. a great way to warm up the house, create wonderful smells, and work my hands with the kneading process. I scrounged through four card files, I could not locate the one I wanted. But I found
Front side of the 3X5 card
Back Side of the card. All the instructions. LOL, I think, based on Mom’s hand, I have likely had this about 25 years.
I use an Ice Cream Scoop to get nice sized cookies, without getting my hands in it (Thanks Martha Stewart)
the card says Sugar, but I add 1/4 tsp ground Cloves to my Sugar. It gives a special touch to my Oatmeal cookies.
put the bottom of the glass in the cookie dough, so it has moisture on the bottom, then into the sugar
Smash the cookie to about 3/8 inch thick. If you forget to dip it in the sugar between cookies, you get this
Check Your oven temp. You want these to go into a Hot oven, they get a crisp-ish crust, but the interior is very moist
Watch them, the edges will get beautiful brown, and then, if you are occupied with other things, they may burn, or
fall victim to a child lured in by the “What’s that Smell?” question
The girls want me to make them again tomorrow, so they can help next time.
If you make them, Please come tell me your thoughts. Thanks for visiting, you can click the button on the bottom, so you follow me. Who knows what the next post might be about. Maybe more on the published pattern pursuit.