A voice from the past

Marm, how nice to hear from you. I have tried to get in touch with you a couple of times. I called John to get your phone number, wrote it down in my address book. Have called you many times. Either I wrote the number down incorrectly or I called you when you were visiting somewhere in never never land. You have no idea of how much I miss you and your parents.

How did you happen to find me? How much of my blogs have you read? If you went far back you must know all about where my children are and what they are doing. Anna and Jane are in your area at the moment visiting Martha at Santa Cruz. Gilbert and Chris were here for dinner tonight to play Bridge with one of my neighbors. We played bridge on the dinner table and now near midnight I decided to return the computer to its normal place, the end of the table. Then I thought to look to see if there were any messages and when I saw the name Marm I said 'Please let it be Marm. Getting it plugged in properly I had time to think. there could be more than one Marm. But it was the right one. I won't be able to sleep tonight. There are so many memories to sift through before I can go to sleep. I am in the phone book and I would so love to talk to you.

To all my blog friends, it is unfair to get in touch with this wonderful friend this way. I will blog about our past and you too will get to know 'our past history' My day began at 5am, a visit to my eye doctor at 8.30. I have worn the same glasses since 2003. Had wonderful news, she said my macular degeneration is the slowest she has ever seen. One eye had improved since she last checked me. So I lived most of the day in a cloud because of having my eyes dilated. I know my eyes were gorgeous because of the enlarged pupils but I could'nt see them. Still had trouble seeing the cards when we played bridge for it was difficult telling the difference between the red and the black cards. Gilbert was my partner and we won the first rubber and Chris who is such a good player, and her partner won the second rubber. Marm, did you ever learn to play?

My house is now filled with summer

Yesterday I drove to a nursery near the airport to buy 12 red geraniums. Why 12? All 12 would fit in a box I could manage when I got back home. I parked on the street, level with my place. If I had parked in my garage, I would have been forced to make the 7 stairsteps to my level. Probably would have ruined my flimsy shopping cart. Then I walked to my place to get my walker. I felt the seat in said walker would hold the box. It worked. Each pot, which held a primrose was emptied and now holds a red or pink geranium. It looks elegant. Several times during the afternoon I went out to admire the change from late spring to early summer. And when I was ready for a long rest in my recliner four of my favorite 'inmates' strolled up to see the change. While we were there Ohing and Awing up walked the gardener to manipulate the automatic watering system. Rain has been sufficient until now. At five this morning the system worked perfectly.

My favorite baseball team, the Seattle Mariners, are in full force trying to be the team standing in first place when October rolls around. They are having their ups and downs, but it is not impossible to think of them as the winners. Meanwhile we have so many hours watching TV hoping and praying. June 29 a bus from here will take a small number of us to watch a game.

May I brag?

Sunday I was working on a project when the phone rang. It was one of my favorite granddaughters. We had a long chat and through much questioning out came a piece of news that I think should be shared by all her friends. I know she will never tell people. And so I will ask her if I may leak the news.

This granddaughter has gone through a rigorous series of classes, both mentally and physically draining. She finally told me that her written report had the highest grade ever given in her state. Or her test results were graded the highest ever in the state. She will have to correct what I reported. It was so thrilling to hear and I know all of you will agree with me, now that she will have to come 'out' and correct me.

Hope you will forgive me, dear granddaughter

Failures

Every time I fail I take several steps backward. and I have failed so many times in the last two months. Several times my failures were involved with the computer. My worst one was trying to get into a relationship with a hypnotist. Once people or machines say 'you are so stupid' or 'you are a hopeless case' I draw back into my shell and say' OK, I don't need this and I will go back to my security blanket and I will spend hours and hours on my idiotic knitting or embroidery or occasionally reading.

I wrote a blog entitled 'There are angels among us.' And my computer refused to send it. Some day I will tell you what had inspired me but the scar of the computer refusing it still hurts too much.

And then I finally worked up enough nerve to try contacting a hypnotist. I have thought about for months and then I called. A very friendly voice said ' I am with a client, but can I call you back. I w.ill call you within five minutes.' Again she said ' it will be less than five minutes.' She never called. I called two or three hours later to see what happened and there was no response. Why do you think I need a hypnotist? I just wanted to know if it might help with hyperextending my knees, improving my posture, walking straighter. If she had told me to go to a physical therapist instead, I would have been satisfied.

A friend brought me a DVD of the Swedish Larsson film and yesterday I tried to see it but the mechanics defeated me. I will try again.

I will try to blog even when I feel defeated by these enemies. I regularly feel very happy and I love my life here. I have planted two 'Upsi Daisy' tomatoes and a wonderful red flower that Amber gave me. That flower raised my spirits by yards. It is doing well by my front door.

Sweet peas

I don't know if you remember a very early blog talking about sweet peas. It happened about 1924 or 1925. We were having a huge party in the spring or very early summer. Relatives and good friends were coming. I was sick and had a high temperature. I tried to stick it out but finally my mother said I had to go to bed. As she tucked me in I said, please save my portion of the peas for me. She promised. I have to tell you what kind of peas were served at the meal I missed. Every time we had guests, canned peas were served. The can was as big as a small can of tuna fish. No matter how many people were sitting around the table, peas were served. The peas were American and they were extremely expensive. 

I went to sleep happy in the promise I would get my share of peas. When I woke, with no temp. I asked about my peas. There were no left overs.

This morning I read the Wednesday food section and I read bout a dip that could be made with an avocado and garlic and hot peppers and frozen peas. this evening I made it and I finally had my portion of sweet peas. The recipie used a whole package of frozen sweet peas. All alone, with a drink of Rye Whiskey and sweet Vermouth and  huge plateful of this dip. I ate my fill of sweet peas and I hope I never run into another package of sweet peas. This took about 85 years.

The end of a wonderful visit

The girls stayed almost a week. Never have we had a better visit. I will describe our living quarters. Each building has four cottages. Mine is titled C. I think the one next to mine is D. If you walk around the building you come to A and B. The girls were lucky enough to be able to rent A. Only because it was between renters. There was nothing in the rooms except three blow up kind of mattresses made up with bedclothes and pillows and towels in the bathroom. They were so happy to be so close. And so was I.

On Friday, I think, my phone rang at 2am. It was one of the husbands calling about the Japanese Earthquake. Since their home is near the beach in Northern California, he was feeling uneasy about the Tsunami. I put on my wooden shoes and my robe and walked around the corner to tell Martha to turn on her phone. Couldn't have done that if they all had resided in the apartments in the big buildings. The Tsunami came in as a little bigger wave than normal, and with many, many surfers waiting for the big one. Many yacht harbors not far from Santa Cruiz had lots of destruction. All who read this would fell better if they sent at least $10 to the American Red Cross for help for the Japanese.   

Sunday all of us went to the Port Angeles Library to hear Jonathan Evison read parts of his new book. Since it deals with Port Angeles and the Elwah River and the dams, built in 1880ies and now the removal of the dams in 2011 or 12, the room was filled to the brim with interested people. I have given my book away but I think it is called West Of Here. I loved it.

Our next outing dealt with visiting the Dams. We drove and drove up a winding road, often with quite a lot of snow bordering the road which was very muddy. Finally we arrived and the girls had to investigate everything except the actual machinery. I have it on good reporting that one of my daughters crawled under a fence and hung over the edge to get a better picture of how far it was to the bottom. Glad I didn't know it at the time. Saturday we had invited friends for cocktails and meaningful edibles and we made home made Pizza. Yum. Monday Swedish friends called and asked to see the girls again and brought along Swedish Aquavit. We each had a nibble.

Monday the girls had to see the lower Dam and drove out again. This time I was smart enough to stay home. They were so excited when they returned, for they met a man out there who was able to tell them all about, both the Lower and the Upper Dam. Frankly, I now feel like Clark Gable.

I know a fellow inmate who had a knee replacement, who came home yesterday. I want to wish her well, but I won't try to see her until I hear that she happy about seeing people. She is lucky. She has a son who is going to stay with her for a month. God bless.

My house and my heart is full.

Yesterday my three daughters and I met for lunch at the Dockside Grill at John Wayne Marina in Sequim. I arrived first after driving from Port Angeles. And minutes later the three 'girls' arrived. We had a long, delicious lunch. Best of all was our involvement with our waitress, Emily, who, working with her parents and her brother, kept us entertained through the longer than usual lunch 'hour'. The food was interesting and exquisitely blended, and Emily even made us order a dessert that consisted of chocolate, chocolate cookie base, peanut butter, and whipped cream. It was a wonderful dessert, I mean it was one wonderful desert and four spoons. I am writing this blog to make sure that Emily's father knows what an asset his daughter is to his business.

More blogging after my daughters leave, a day I am not looking forward to.

Angels among us

This morning Dear Abby used the expression above. And I thought HOW TRUE. Every time I go out into town I meet several of the angels. Yesterday I went for breakfast at Mac Donald's. For the first time in my long life I had an Egg Mac Muffin. It was delicious and I will return for more. I also think the coffee was better than I get at home. I met the first angel of the day. As I was parking and getting out of the car, I saw a woman standing at a counter eating her breakfast, looking out the window. I struggled as usual to get into a standing position, got my cane, and then had my usual problem, one I have had since childhood, which door do I go into. The woman eating by the window must have seen me for she was at the first door, opened it for me and made me feel so welcome. If Abby had written about the angels among us yesterday I would have told her she was my angel. I felt so much more at ease after experiencing her welcome. And so my resolve is to tell people how important their helpful acts are. 

Revelation

I was sitting here reading Martha Alderson's latest news in her iZine. She was talking about the Front story and the Back story. I do not always understand everything I read but to me this was a huge revelation. In your writing you don't have to tell the back story as long as you yourself understand how it is affecting you.

My whole life has been affected by the abuse I suffered ass a child. I remember all the times my mother would tell her friends that she had wished to have two children. That her life was perfect until she became pregnant with me. How she had tried to lose the baby by following advice from people who knew things like that. Every minute detail seared itself into my memory. Suddenly I realized how important all those little snippets of gossip affected me, but the actual abuse, the physical abuse has had little effect on me. I was beaten with a rug beater on my bare back and behind so I could not go swimming at the beach because of welts and bruises. My hair was pulled so that huge sections of my scalp was exposed until new hair grew in. 

When punishment was meted out my mother wanted to see me cry. I would grit my teeth and swear I would not give her that satisfaction. And so my beatings became longer and longer. Not very smart of me. And now I am interested in realizing that the physical abuse never comes to mind, whereas the mind games are with me on a daily basis. Once I wrote a short story about my mother and her tribulations, and I felt I forgave her for what she did to me. But there are still scars somewhere in my mind. 

Preparations

You may wonder why I am so sporadic with the blog. Just now I am trying to develop a project to work on during the Baseball season. I can't stand to sit and just watch. I must have my hands occupied. So I will tell you what I am hoping to create. I have a fairly large chest of drawers filled to overflowing with small amounts of yardage, used for Quilting and used in my Fake it in Fabrics. I want to see if I can use them in making a 6x4 rug for in front of the love seat. 

I am cutting, on the bias, pieces as long as possible and two inches wide. Then I sew them together. After that I iron them so they are two inches wide. And then I make them into 1/4 inches. Folding the raw edges into the mid line. In a sense I now have hundreds of yards of bias tape. I have enough to now try to braid them together and then to eventually sew the braids together in an oval rug. It has been done using yarn or heavy wool materials. My little stiff things may not lend themselves to a soft yielding oval. I now have enough material to test, If it works I will have the most colorful rug in the world. Wish me luck, please.

I had an interesting time this morning, or last night to be exact. I always listen to KGO from San Francisco at night when I am awake. At two Ray Taliafero(sp) came on and talked about how small our world is getting what with our instant knowledge of what happens in every corner of the Earth. And what could be the next big step in our abilities. He said please call in if you feel you are on the edge of something gigantic. And he waxed so yearning to know what might be next. I decided to call in. It took an hour to get anyone to answer the phone. And then it seemed to take another hour hanging on to the phone. Finally it was my turn. I told him I loved the beginning of the program, when he was musing about what might come next. And then I asked if it would be correct to call him Prehistoric. He got a big chuckle out of that. Then I told him about my historic grandfather who was born in 1838. In 1928 he sat in our kitchen, listening to a little radio my mother had bought that morning, and when he heard Admiral Byrd speaking from  the AntArchtic tears streamed down his cheeks. I was 8 and I was more impressed by grandfather's tears than the voice from wherever. I didn't know grown men could cry. It is now 5.13 and my Daily Coyote just arrived.

olympic !!

In between the raindrops I managed another training session. I wanted to find a better route to the restaurant on C street. The most logical way is the shortest, but the alley is out. For the winter anyway. So I tried 9th street. Direct and straight. One problem. No sidewalks. But I found out that, that does not matter for there was no traffic and walking on the street was safe. A few dogs gave me loud greetings, but they were all fenced in. I met one woman walking in the opposite direction and that was pleasant. We stopped and chatted for a moment and since I had walked up a mild hill for two blocks, it slowed down my breathing. Until the very last block I saw no cars, one woman and on top of the hill I had full view of our gorgeous Olympic mountains.

I parked my walker outside the the door again and when I sat down at 'my table' it felt great to sit down and the smell was promising. It smelled of pancakes and waffles and sausages. All the breakfast customers had left and I was the only hungry one there. Met by a welcoming woman who looked like she might be the owner of the place. There was a special offered and I accepted. While waiting for my waffle I leafed through a magazine and then a young couple walked in and asked if they were in time for breakfast. They sat down at the opposite side of the place. I was engrossed then, in either my magazine or my waffle when I heard   'Gertrud ' . I was startled and looked around and there was no one new in the place. The young woman then said ' I am sorry. I thought you were a woman I used to know whose name was Gertrud.' My name is Gertrud. But I don't .... She said 'my name is Sarah. You once helped me make a cat.'

At one time, maybe twenty years earlier, Sam had been in a play in Sequim. It was the ODD COUPLE. He and Sarah's father were two of the four poker players and Sam had felt the four of them needed extra rehearsal time and had invited them to our house on a Saturday morning. One of them brought his daughter, who was probably five or six. I wanted her to be happy so I asked if she would like to go down to the beach to look for a pretty rock. She was a lovely child and we had fun exploring. We found a couple of round flat rocks that were perfect for a cat. And so we spent a few hours in my studio gluing and painting and whiskering. When the men were ready to leave, Sarah had a cat.

Through the years, whenever I ran into Sarah she would greet me with 'I still have my cat'. The cat went to college with her. It went to music school with her. Sarah has a beautiful voice and is now a Jazz Singer and she is a beautiful human being. I have never run into her any other place than the theatre at night and here in a completely different setting, I did not at first recognize her. But she has not changed. She is still a beautiful human being.

The Olympics

This morning I decided I had been dawdling in inactivity too long for my health. I checked the weather to see if I should wear sunglasses or a hat to protect my eyes. Should I wear something warm? It seemed like a mild day and nothing is worse than being over-dressed and perspiring. I had made the resolution to walk down to C  Street to eat breakfast.

I would walk with my walker, for the route I had chosen was very uneven footwise. I would walk the alley between 8th and 9th street. I live on 8th and G street. My progress was slow, for the ruts were a sign of a wet long winter. I had chosen the alley because of a memory driving that way soon after having moved here. The alley was green because of over hanging trees, and there were flowers blooming everywhere. But today there was no beauty in the alley. There were dead blackberry bushes, there were fences falling down, there were garbage cans overflowing with merchandise. Some of them that had lids that couldn't close, had been raided by crows or sea gulls. And after having gone a block and a half, it began raining. It was a mild rain, big drops but not too many of them.

In the restaurant, a nice homey clean one, I was too late for breakfast. So I ordered Fish and Chips. Everything tasted great. The salad was especially good. It took probably an hour and when my meal was finished and I had paid my bill I had a rude awakening. The rain that had been mild had turned very serious. By the time I got home, I was soaked to the skin. When I later spoke with Martha, she said Mom just because you feel you need exercise you don't have to train for the Olympics

Food

I hate to talk  about food for the thought of food is fattening. But our newspaper had a wonderful page about food yesterday. As soon as I read it I hurried to get dressed, made my shopping list, and drove down to our local Safeway. I needed beans and molasses and a small ham hock. And a spicy Mexican sounding sausage for tomorrows experiments. Which again calls for beans. Luckily we are having another cold snap and beans and beer and cornbread are perfect for that kind of weather.

Naturally, I cooked too much and gave some to a couple of neighbors. And when I finished my bean dinner, there was enough left over for two more dinners for me. So I will save the mexican sounding sausage for later, hoping I will get to eat that before it gets too warm. This morning, after I poured out the over night rinse water I put the pot on to boil and after I finished reading the paper it smelled so good I poured myself a large bowl of what one would have to call bean soup. It was very liquid and very good. I don't think I have ever had beans twice in one day.

After the beans had baked in the oven, I chopped the green kale leaves and added them to the pot. It made me remember when I was a child in Sweden and we four siblings were playing down at the beach. An uncle had salvaged the wood of a sailing ship that had hit a reef and sank. It was not a sailboat for the rich, but a fairly meaningful ship that carried freight through the straight of Oresund. We played in this mountain of large timbers, carried out some internal pieces so we could pretend the hole we made, was our living room. Naturally we got hungry and so we invented a new kind of sandwich. We took large kale leaves in our garden, spread what we pretended was butter on them (it was chicken mash we stole out of grandmother's hen-house) and then put pretend jam on that(red hawthorn berries) It was a wonder we did not get sick or squashed while this game was going on. Then my older brother who pretended to be the man of the house, took us for a walk and when reached our goal we could see Kronborg Castle in Denmark. I can remember how cold it was playing in that cold wind that constantly blew in from the North sea.

What is a Soup Party

Uncle Fred asked the above question and so I will try to describe the way Georgia fashioned hers.

When it was held in their roomy house, when we were neighbors, it was different than last nights party. I will tell of the first ones first. The people who came from far away had a problem as soon as they arrived. There was no parking place available, the streets were too narrow to park there. We who lived on the same street would walk up the hill. We would tell anyone we saw to park in our driveway, and since Georgia had invited the neighborhood, everyone else on the hill would help them out too.

We would knock on the front door and since no one could hear upstairs we would walk in and hang up our coats below. They had a huge living room and if it was your first time there, you were told to go straight ahead and help yourself to wine and cheese and crackers. When the word came that the soup course was ready, you would walk out in the kitchen, where on the square island in the center were placed eight or ten crock pots (or as some people called them 'slow cookers') All of them were labeled and you were told you had to have some of each. There was home made bread and butter. (baked by Mitch) It would take ages to taste all those soups and when you had found a favorite one, you would have to have another little taste. All the soups were made by Georgia or Mitch. When you were too full to eat another crumb, dessert and coffee was served. Again you would have to serve yourself. On a table in the corner was the large electric coffee maker and many many cookies.

They had so many friends that they would have to have at least one more party. We did not know the square dancers so we always hoped to be included with neighbors or bridge players.

And then the M.s house was sold and they moved to the townhouses at the Golf Club. A loss for the people at Four Seasons. 

Last nights party was fun and the soups were good and the birthday cake was beautiful. But the staff at the Golf Club, who made the soups were not up to Georgia's standards. Half a tea spoon too much flour in one soup and maybe a different cheese in another. They were all delicious but I only tasted three of them. Then maybe my age made me stop.

It was a huge success and so much fun seeing all those people.

The Soup Party

When Sam and I moved to Port Angeles we were invited to a soup party up the hill from us. We did not know the people who invited us. But we went. It was a fantastic party. Our whole neighborhood was there and many strangers. Our hosts were big in a church downtown, they were big in square dancing circles and they were big in bridge clubs but most of all, he had been Commanding Officer in our Coast Guard Station. They had a soup party (or two) every year after that and it was something we really looked forward to.

Tonight I am going to a Soup Party at the Golf Club. It is celebrating Georgia's ninetieth birthday. I think there will be many people over ninety. I will let you know in my next blog how many.

Sixteen comments

Yesterday I wrote a blog, and then was totally amazed by the comments coming in. Most of them from old friends whose names I recognized. Even the Anonymous were old friends. 

I will publish a picture when the pillow comes back from the upholsterer. Carol told of learning the tvist in Japan when she was a child. An Anonymous described perfectly what the tvist is. I call it a one and a half cross stitch. If you are interested in how I got these old old kits with the pattern and the yarn (wool) I will tell you. 

When Jane, one of my favorite daughters, was about to get married, she wanted to go to Sweden to see if she could buy her wedding dress there. She pleaded with me to go along with her. I tried to tell her to go alone and for her to kick up her heels and have a huge fling before getting married. Nothing doing. She wanted me for extra security. When the plane landed in 

Copenhagen Ingegerd Dolling picked us up and on the ferry from Helsingor (where Hamlet used to hang around) to Helsingborg, Ingegerd told us that my mother was in the hospital in Helsingborg and we should go to see her when the ferry landed in Sweden. My mother had some kind of heart trouble.

When we got to see her, she seemed happy to see Jane and asked her what she was going to do. When she heard she was looking for a wedding dress my mother said ' You can have mine' I never knew she had a wedding dress. We had never seen a picture of her in a wedding dress. So out came the sad story of how my parents were married. You may remember that they had met in New York where my mother was working as a Nanny. My father was the Captain on a Swedish freighter unloading in the harbor. He was visiting a brother of who lived on Long Island. Nils and Blenda fell in love, he proposed marriage a year later, she said if you feel the same a year from now, I will say yes. So a year later they were engaged and then Blenda needed another year to get her trousou (sp) ready. She went back to Sweden and sewed her own wedding dress. In 1914 when War broke out between Germany and England Father said one day, 'we have to get married now, for my ship will not come into these waters again until after the war. So they were married in a court house, she in a brown suit and Father in his plain suit and they did not see each other until sometime in 1915 when Mother managed to get to England (or was it Spain) when she got pregnant with Birgit who was born in 1916.

Mother got home from the hospital and found her wedding dress which was beautiful. Fitted Jane to perfection. She was elated. And then she decided to travel around Sweden before our plane flew us back to USA. On this trip of her own she found these kits of tvist which she sent me when I moved into my present home. She knew she would never have time to make them.

It's been a long time

I was told by Blogher that it has been more than a month since my last blog. Which means I need to get back to writing. I have spent a whole month embroidering a pillow. Not good for my eyes. The pillow is Swedish, done in a stitch called tvist. It is so much fun to work on. Difficult to go to bed at a decent time but fun to get up in the morning. You tell yourself that you will just finish this corner, and hours later there is just one more corner to be done. It is fabulous looking, now that it is finished. I will take it to the best upholsterer to have it made into living room, love seat kind of pillow. There is only one problem. I have already begun another one. It is bigger than the first one. With nine stylized tulips in the center.

Today is my ninety first birthday. I was given a new chair that is going to get me up and walking more often. I love it, and I love my four children who gave it to me. I tried out lots of chairs in the furniture store and settled on a beautiful blue covered one, which has all the functions that I will need in the near future. I will try to find a hypnotist who can help me with my deteriorating posture. that will be my gift to myself. And I will walk more this next year. And I will blog everyday before I pick my embroidering needle.

Birthday cards have arrived in bunches, and this morning I opened them. They  are so beautiful and have such wonderful messages, I had to dry my damp face before beginning this blog. I feel so rich. Rich in the love that surrounds me. And for that I am truly thankful

A touching momnt

This morning Shreve (Daily Coyote) informed me that there was a Jacquei Lawson animated Christmas Card from Barbara. I managed to bring it forth and it filled me with so much inner feeling of gratitude  and love for the human race. First of all, it was a work of Art. Santa coming down the chimney in a cloud of ashes. The two dogs assisting, the beautiful setting, everything helped fill me with remembrance of Christmases past. When the children were young and when Sam was alive. I sat for a long time, with tears in my eyes feeling thankful and happy. Barbara thank you, and Shreve, thank you. I tried to Email Barbara, but nothing would make it go.

It now turns out that we will have one granddaughter here for Christmas. Tory who is becoming a Service woman, (Coast Guard) will be here with Anna and Steve. She is stationed in Petaluma Ca. and will be driving up. Pray for good weather for her. Now I will have to make Swedish Coffee Cake. Tory learned how to make it when she was a young teenager. (Don't tell her, hers is better than mine.)

They leave to return to Bainbridge Island on the 28th of Dec. After that I will send out another blog. Merry Christmas to all my blog readers.

Advent. Santa Lucia and much more

I have been so busy, what with creating presents, wrapping presents and mailing presents. All that is now behind me, my little home is decorated and if I get a shot of energy, I may bake some cookies. 

I am well. I can prove it. For on the 15th I saw my doctor for our semi-annual get together and that's what he told me. I would like to lose 20 lbs and I would like a little more grace. But how can you complain when most of the motors that keep me alive are humming along correctly.

Ariel sent a comment today, even though I have not blogged for ages. I started responding to her, and then thought I could instead write a blog and answer her comment at the same time. I don't want want to lose all my friends out there in this new world.

She mentioned that she grandmother used to eat burnt toast. We never had toast for breakfast. It was oatmeal daily forever and ever. My little brother hated oatmeal and refused to eat it. He would have to sit at the table till his plate was clean. When my mother had to get us older ones off for school, she would leave the dining room and often the plate was empty when she returned. We had a large, massive corner chest. It was larger in it's lower section than the upper one. The front of the lower part reached almost to the floor. There was a small opening with curved edges. Too small for a mop or a broom to fit under there. One day the dining room had to be painted. Two burly men came to help move the chest out of the corner. They could not budge it. It had to be taken apart. The upper section was heavy but the lower part was doubly so. When it was finally moved, Lo and Behold, there were many many piles of oatmeal left by my brother. Some had green hair growing on them. My brothers small  hand with his spoon could fit under the small opening.

But I began speaking of burnt toast. We like Ariel had no toaster. In the living room we had a fire place. Not open like we have here now. It was a box like thing and in the winter a fire burned all day long. If the fire had been refilled and was burning near the opening at the top, we would sometimes be allowed to stick a long fork in a slice of bread, open the little door at the top and then to hold the slice of bread above the fire. The bread had to be a certain distance from the fire or it would burn. There wasn't much space to waste. Many slices were not secured  correctly and if they fell into the fire, that child was out of luck for we never got another slice. The older children were much more clever and the younger ones would cry. It smelled so good from the bread toasting. But, oh how hot it was on the hand holding the fork. Agony!

The above happened only in the afternoon if it was too cold to play out doors. Or in the evening when it was too early to go to bed and too late to be out doors. If I remember correctly, we never got butter or jam for the toast. No finger marks in the living room.