My Gran's Gonna Kill Me

She deftly lifted the next cooked potato and keeping it in the palm of her hand, she first peeled then diced it with a sharp knife.

“Gran, aren’t you afraid of cutting your hand?”

She gave me the same response as my mom had when I’d asked her the last time she made their potato salad.

“No, Dear. I’ve been making this potato salad for a long time, and I’ve never – not once – cut myself while doing it.”

 As she worked on the next cooked potato, I studied her face – the lines crisscrossing her face, the age spots on the back of her hands, the papery thin skin covering her face and arms, her fluffy white hair sticking out from her head – and figured she knew what the heck she was doing.

My Gran must have been in her 80’s when I really watched her make her potato salad. It fascinated me how she was able to hold the cooked potatoes and eggs and dice them in her hands with a sharp knife without cutting her hands.

My mom prepped the potatoes and eggs the same way.

And so do I.

To the best of my knowledge, we’ve never – not once - cut ourselves while doing it either.

I’m pretty sure it’d taste the same if I did the dicing on a cutting board, but I take comfort in knowing that I prepare it the same way my Gran and my mom did.

However, I have added one teeny, tiny ingredient. And I’d bet the $2 that I have in my wallet [I know. I’m a big spender.] that my mom added her own “something” to the recipe. [In fact. I know she did.] I like to think it’s just another layer to the family story.

But I didn’t add this ingredient until I’d been preparing it the exact way my mother had showed me for well over 10 years. And while I’m probably gonna catch a lotta afterlife crap from my Gran for giving away her recipes, I’m still gonna share it. It’s that good. [Heck. What is she gonna do? Come back and haunt me? I wish she would. I have quite a few questions for her.]

Now. Before I give you the complete recipe, you gotta pinky swear that you will NOT change my Gran’s recipe in any way until you’ve been preparing it the same way for at least 10 years. ‘K? If you’re outta the correct ingredients, don’t substitute other crap. This should be a clear sign that it just wasn’t meant for you to make it that day. The don’ts include:

• Putting fruit or nuts in it. [This ain’t fruity or nutty potato salad. Although some of mom’s family was fruity and nutty.]
• Using turkey bacon. [This is just wrong. This ain’t potato salad for dieters.]
• Not using the bacon grease. [This is a must. Again. This ain’t potato salad for dieters.]
• Not putting the onions in it cuz you’re afraid your other half won’t kiss you after eating it. [Honey, once your other half tastes my Gran’s potato salad, you’re gonna get a lotta kisses. It’s that good. Did I mention my Gran had 8 kids?]
• Using sweet relish instead of dill relish. [Save the sweets for dessert. Like pecan or cherry pie. Besides, you’ve already jumped off the dieting deep end with the bacon grease. A piece of pie ain’t gonna make a bit of difference.]
• Using some other type of potatoes other than the regular Russett potatoes. [My Gran’s Gran, Annie O’Brien, was from Ireland, and I have not one potato recipe passed down through my Gran that included golden potatoes, red potatoes, and the like. Save those for your new found fancy schmancy potato recipes. This recipe needs no razzle and dazzle to impress. Hello? Bacon grease.]
• Using more or less of something because you think you know better. [Trust me. My Gran knew better than you.]

Ingredients

• 7 Medium-Large sized Russett Potaoes [I buy the 5# bag, and use the leftovers to make mashed potatoes and my Gran’s potato pancakes with the mashed potato leftovers. Haven’t made up my mind yet if I’m gonna share that recipe with you. It's my Gran's Gran's potato pancake recipe. We’ll see how this goes.]
• 7 Large eggs
• 4 pieces of thick-sliced bacon
• Bacon grease from frying the 4 pieces of bacon
• 2 stalks of celery
• 1 medium-sized sweet onion [It’s not really sweet, so we’re not breaking the whole “This ain’t sweet-tasting potato salad” rule, and it’s one of my mom’s substitutions.]
• 1 Tablespoon of Dill [not sweet] relish
• 1 Tablespoon of mustard [Just the plain ol’ yellow kind. No Dijon-like crap.]
• 1 Tablespoon of white vinegar
• 2 teaspoons of Slap Ya Mama Cajun seasoning [The one with a yellow label.] [This would be my addition to my Gran’s recipe. In fact, I use it in *everything*. You can purchase it online here. So there's absolutely no excuse for you not having this on hand.]
• Mayonnaise, about 1 cup but add ½ a cup at a time.
• Salt to taste

Instructions

1. Rinse the potatoes [don't peel before cooking] and put them and the 7 eggs in a big pot just covering them with water. Place on high heat and bring to a boil. Boil for 20-25 minutes.
2. While the potatoes and eggs are boiling, dice the celery and the onions well. No big chunks. [The potato and the bacon are the stars of this show, folks.]
3. When the potatoes and eggs are done, drain the boiling water out of the pot placing the hot potatoes and eggs in a colander to cool.
4. While they're cooling, fry the bacon in the same pot until crispy but not burnt. [This way there's only one pot to clean and the grease can't pop onto your shirt and ruin it. My mama didn't raise no fool.] Don't cook the bacon in the oven or microwave. Fry. It.
5. Once the bacon is fried completely, take the bacon strips out of the pot with tongs and drain them on some paper towels. Place the pot with the grease to the side to cool a bit.
6. Peel the 7 hard boiled eggs.
7. Place the 7 cooled cooked potatoes and the 7 hard boiled eggs in a big plastic bowl.
8. Peel the skin off the cooked potatoes with a knife [like a paring knife] and dice the potatoes and the eggs. No. You don't have to do it in the palm of your hand. In fact, if you're not related to my Gran, I wouldn't try that. Just make sure the diced potato pieces are on the medium side. Not too big and definitely not too small. [We're not making potato soup here.]
9. Once done with the potato and egg dicing, use both your hands to mix the pieces around. Yes. Use your hands, not a spoon.
10. Add the diced celery and onion to the potato and egg mixture and toss again with your hands.
11. Crumble the 4 slices of crispy [but not burned] bacon strips and toss into this mixture. Yes. With your hands.
12. Add the 1 Tablespoon of dill [not sweet] relish to the mixture and toss with your [you guessed it] hands.
13. Add all the leftover bacon grease from the pot, the mustard, and the vinegar to the mixture and stir it all carefully all with a big spoon just until it's mixed. [I use my big sturdy bamboo wooden spoon. I guess you could use some other kind just so long as it's sturdy.] 
14. Add the Slap Ya Mama seasoning. [I just love the name of this stuff. And it tastes perfect. My Cajun neighbor introduced me to it, and it's made in the same little town she's from, Ville Platte, Evangeline Parish, Louisiana, which also happens to be a parish away from where my Gran was born there in Louisiana. Connections, folks. They're everywhere.]
15. Now. Add the mayonnaise a 1/2 cup at a time. Why? Because my Gran's potato salad is not that wet and drippy kind of potato salad. It's just not. It's hearty. The potatoes break up a little while mixing and while it's not creamy, per se, it's definitely not cubed potatoes with mayonnaise dripping off of it either. So. It's better to add a little mayonnaise at a time because you can always add a little more, but once you've ruined the potato salad with too much mayonnaise, it's ruined. I don't care how much you love mayonnaise, it ain't the star of my Gran's potato salad.
16. Before just adding salt blindly, taste test the potato salad. If you think it needs salt, add it. If not, then don't.
17. Chill for at least 2 hours or overnight.
18. Sprinkle a little Slap Ya Mama on top before serving cuz it makes it look pretty.

Remember that this stuff is good, and will go fast. Especially the 2nd time you make it. So. It's perfectly acceptable to get your serving right after you make it. After all, you're the one who took the time and trouble to follow Gran's recipe and it should be properly taste-tested to make sure that you've made it correctly.

This is what it looks like after you've taken your portion and placed the rest in a serving dish:

After all have taken their portion and then some, this is what it'll look like afterwards:

Not really this yellow. Added a filter cuz it made it look better. =)

Lastly, I won't be there to see if you've changed things around with the recipe. But my Gran will probably be watching you to see if you do it right. And if you do see her, please tell her to come and pay me visit. I have some questions for her.

Who The Hell Is This Etiquette Guy?

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Looks like Mom forgot to pack the plastic forks.”

“So. How are we gonna eat the potato salad?”

“Well. She didn’t forget the plastic knives.  We can use those.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Yawning, I couldn’t have cared less how my brother and dad were going to eat that potato salad. I hated potato salad. I didn’t give 2 hoots about anything that had mayonnaise, eggs, onion, and celery. The only things it really had going for it, in my 10-year-old opinion, were the mustard, potatoes, and bacon. In fact, the only thing it was missing from my “There’s-no-way-I’m-gonna-eat-that-crap” list was tomatoes. Yuck.

“Caroline, do you want some potato salad?”

“Nope. Just baked beans and my chicken leg. Please.” 

God, how I loved my mom’s fried chicken. Especially when we’d been fishing all morning from dawn until just after noon. Those donuts we had back at 4 o’clock this morning before putting the boat in the bay hadn’t been intended to last that long and my tummy was growling.

“Caroline? I don’t think you’re gonna be able to eat those baked beans with a knife.” How about 2 chicken legs and some potato salad?”

With an “Are you crazy?” look on my face, I told my dad in no uncertain terms that there was no way on God’s green earth that I was gonna eat that potato salad.

He just shook his head, scooped up what I’d asked for, added a plastic knife, and handed it over. I tore into that cold fried chicken like I hadn’t eaten like, well, since, 4 o’clock this morning. 


Then I attempted the bake beans with a knife. Have you ever attempted to eat baked beans with a plastic knife? Yeah. Well. I don’t suggest it. Even if you are starving. It’s not easy. I quickly ate as much as I could. Then ate the rest of my chicken.

But I was still hungry. I tried to look everywhere else but at my brother’s and dad’s plates piled high with Mom’s potato salad. I watched a bird swoop down towards the water. I saw a fish come to the surface causing a small ripple in the water. I focused on one of the islands that made up the area of the bay where we’d been fishing all morning. Then I looked back at their plates. The potato salad. The piles weren’t as high anymore.

Then I focused on the island once more. My eyes began to droop as the boat gently rocked back and forth. I closed my eyes briefly and filled my lungs with the salty air. I heard more birds off in the distance.

I opened my eyes again. Just staring at that potato salad. My stomach growled. I licked my lips

.

“Caroline? Are you sure you don’t want some potato salad? Here. Try some”

My dad handed me some on a paper plate. I hesitantly picked up my plastic knife. Barely dipped it into the potato salad. Brought it to my nose. Sniffed. My stomach growled. It smelled so good. I stuck out my tongue. Licked some of it off the knife. And?

My mouth watered.

I quickly swallowed it and dug in for more. Each knife-full was better than the last. It was tangy. The juxtaposition of the crispy fried bacon and the soft potatoes was to die for. The crunch of the onion and the celery? Divine.

Each ingredient complimented the other.  It was perfect.

Before I knew it, I was done. I licked the knife. I licked the paper plate. I hadn’t even left any on my plate for Etiquette’s sake, like my Gran always used to tell me to do.

I figured Etiquette could get his own mom’s dang potato salad.

My potato salad, which was my mom's potato salad. Before that is was my Gran's, & one day, it will be my daughter's.

Feliz Navidad Goodies

People In Hell Want Ice Water Too
When I was young every single year, without fail, my Gran would send me two things for my birthday ~ my very own batch of peanut brittle and my very own batch of her refrigerator cookies, without nuts [because I like nuts in my candy, but not in my cookies ~ go figure.].  Everyone else in the house had to share their own batch of peanut brittle and Gran's refrigerator cookies with nuts.  [I promise I wasn't spoiled.  Really.]  As my Gran got a little older and was unable to make me my goodies, my mother took over the task.  My birthday is at the beginning of December and no matter who was doing the baking and making, as soon as I received them, I knew Christmas was just around the corner.  [I also learned pretty quickly to hide everything so that my dad wouldn't eat all my baked goods.]  This was a time where my mom baked cookies and cakes and made candies in abundance.  Once I asked her why she made so much, she replied, "You never know who might be showing up for Christmas, and they make great gifts."  And she was right.  There was always someone we hadn't counted on showing up at Christmas, and mom was always ready with a Cherry-Date Cake, the proverbial Fruit Cake, or a tin of Peanut Brittle or Pralines.  Also, I do believe a few of my teachers ended up with a few cakes over the years.  [I promise, though, I did earn my grades, but you know, it never hurts...]  A lot of what my mom made was passed down from her mother, my Gran.  I never asked the origins of the recipes [kicking myself in the backside], but I decided that I'd share a few of the family recipes with you.  [When I get to Heaven, I'm pretty sure my Gran is gonna kick my buttocks for sharing them with you, though.  Just so you know...]  Also, I'm sharing 2 recipes of my own that have become a tradition.  So much so that if I didn't make them for Christmas, I'd be in a lot of trouble.




Gran's & Mom's Peanut Brittle [pictured above]
I've tasted a lot of peanut brittle over the years, and none have ever come close to this recipe of  my Gran's and my Mom's.  The ingredients are simple, but there's a "trick" to making candy.  I never helped my mom make the peanut brittle, but I watched her every year make batch after batch of it.  When I finally married, that first Christmas after receiving my Birthday Peanut Brittle, I called to thank her, and I also asked for "the recipe."  I've made it every year since.  The key to making any candy is to follow the directions exactly and have everything ready to go ~ time is of the essence.  [Plus an extra set of hands would be nice, but as my mom used to say, "Caroline, people in hell want ice water, too."]

2 cups sugar
1 cup light corn syrup
1/4 cup butter, plus some to butter pans
1/2 cup water
2-1/2 cups raw peanuts [unsalted]
1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda

Equipment:
Heavy 3-qt sauce pan
Candy thermometer
Wooden spoon
2 large baking sheets [I use 2 old Airbake ones that are warped]

Butter the 2 large baking sheets and the 3-qt sauce pan.  Combine sugar, corn syrup, butter, and 1/2 cup water in buttered 3-qt sauce pan.  Cook and stir continuously over medium-high heat until boiling.  Clip the candy thermometer to the side of the pan [making sure it doesn't touch the bottom of the pan].  Now cook and stir over medium-low heat to 275 degrees Farenheit, or soft-crack stage [abt. 30 minutes].  Stir in peanuts and stir to 295 degrees Farenheit, or hard-crack stage [abt. 15-20 minutes].  Remove from heat & remove thermometer.  Quickly, sprinkle baking soda over the hot goo [Yes, that's a technical term.] while constantly stirring.  Then quickly pour the hot goo onto the baking sheets, dividing it equally.  [Good luck on that "equal" part.]  Once it's cool, break into pieces.  Then, hide it.  Otherwise, it won't last long.



Gran's & Mom's Pralines [pictured above]
This is a decidedly New Orleans [or Nawlins] delicacy.  My Gran's Gran, Annie O'Brien, came to America from Ireland through the Port of New Orleans.  Also, my Gran was born in Chaney, Rapides Parish, Louisiana.  Did the recipe come from there?  Good question.  I wish I knew the answer.  However, lucky for you, I have the recipe.

1-1/2 cups sugar
1-1/2 cups packed dark brown sugar
1 cup of heavy cream [You're making candy for goodness sake.  Don't use the light.]
3 Tbsp. butter
2 cups pecan halves

The Equipment: The same as above minus the baking sheets, but add wax paper.

Lay out on the counter about 2 feet of wax paper.  Butter the saucepan again.  Combine the sugars [both kinds] and the cream.  Cook over medium-high heat until boiling, stirring constantly.  Clip the thermometer to the side of the pan.  Cook & stir over medium-low heat to 234 degrees Farenheit, soft-ball stage [abt. 16 minutes].  Remove from heat and add butter, but don't stir it in.  Let hot goo cool until thermometer reads 150 degrees Farenheit.  Stir in the pecans and beat with wooden spoon for about 3 minutes.  Should be thick, but still glossy.  If it's too stiff, add a couple drops of hot water [Drops, people.  Candy-making is not the world of "more is better."]  With a spoon, drop mounds of hot goo onto wax paper.  Don't worry.  It will flatten as it cools.  Now hide this too.  It seems to disappear.



Caroline's Christmas Cookies [pictured above]
These are popular with the family, and are much better than a fruit cake. [Snort.  That doesn't take much.]

1 cup sugar
1 cup butter-flavored shortening
1/2 cup sour cream
3 eggs
3-1/4 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
1-1/2 tsp. salt, sifted
1 tsp. baking powder, sifted
1/2 tsp. baking soda, sifted
1-1/2 tsp. lemon extract
1 tsp. grated oramge peel
1 cup shredded coconut
1/2 cup candied cherries [red & green], diced
1/4 cup citron, diced

Heat oven to 400 degrees Farenheit.  Mix sugar, butter-flavored shortening, sour cream, and eggs.  Stir in the rest of the stuff [another technical term].  Drop on cookie sheets and bake for 8-9 minutes.  Yes, these will need to be hidden, too.



Caroline's Christmas Eve Tortilla Soup [pictured above]
As I've mentioned before, I was born and raised on the Texas-Mexican border.  This is an area that has a blend of cultures, which naturally extends into food.  I can't remember when my mother started serving Mexican food on Christmas Eve, but my stomach and I are sure glad she did.  For me, it just isn't Christmas Eve without Mexican food, especially tamales. [pictured below]  My mom didn't make them from scratch, and neither do I.  They can be heated up in an oven, but I've found that they remain moist if I steam them.  Most everything she used to serve and what I now serve is finger foods ~ taquitos, queso, fluatas, tacos, etc.  Several years back, I added homemade tortilla soup, and it's now requested every year.  I've given the recipe to my Cajun neighbor, and now I'll share it with you.

Vegetable oil
24 corn tortillas, 12 thinly sliced [1/4 inch in width] & 12 sliced [1/2 inch in width]
1 Roasted Chicken, de-boned and chopped [I buy the one already cooked at the store.]
1 yellow onion, chopped
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 Poblano pepper, de-seeded and chopped  [optional & you can substitute with your fave pepper]
1-49 oz. can chicken broth
1 cup water
1-28 oz. can petite diced tomatoes in juice
1 can sweet corn
1 can sweet cream corn
4 tsp. cumin
6 tsp. chili powder
1 cup of chopped cilantro
salt & pepper to taste
Lime juice from 5 limes

Toppings:
Sliced Avocado
Grated Cheddar & Monterrey Jack Cheese
Leftover fried tortilla strips
Sour cream

Fry the 1/4-inch corn tortilla strips in vegetable oil, drain on paper towels, and set aside.  In large pot, saute onion, garlic, and Poblano pepper until tender.  Add chicken, broth, tomatoes with the juice, both cans of corn with liquid, and water, and bring to a boil, then simmer for 5 minutes.  Add the 1/2-inch corn tortilla strips [the ones not fried] cumin, chili powder, cilantro, salt, and pepper.  Simmer for 30 minutes.  Add lime juice from 5 limes.  Stir and simmer for 5 minutes.  Serve hot with desired toppings.  I usually set it up as a buffet of sorts.




Feliz Navidad!

Her Irish Eyes ~ They Were A Smilin'

Image by epSos.de via Flickr

Alice Florence (Vaughan) Truitt

With each name that I research, it still amazes me the finds that I make in my pursuit of my family's genealogy and the stories that I find behind their names.  Sometimes, though, the story leads to the name, or a picture, or another person to add to the family tree...Today I'd like to introduce you to my "Boo".  No, it's not Boo Radley [Silly. That's a fictional character.], but my great-grandmother, Alice Florence [Vaughan] Truitt.  I don't have a picture of her unfortunately, but I do have the story behind her name.

A Bean Counter is Off to Mexico

My grandfather, James Wesley Blacketer was born in Council Bluffs, Iowa 22 Mar 1894, grew up in Missouri, joined the army, was stationed at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, and this is where he met and married my Gran, Mary Alice Truitt [Boo's daughter].  My grandfather [who I never met] was pretty much a "bean counter" all of his life, which [no offense, but] doesn't usually lead to an adventurous life.  However, my grandfather managed to put a little pizzaz into his life when he secured a position with a company in Tampico, Tamaulipas, Mexico.  Yes, you read correctly. Mexico.  Now, growing up I had always heard about my grandparents and my eldest aunt living in Mexico for awhile, but never thought much about it until I found my grandfather's and my grandmother's applications for a U.S. Passport on Ancestry.com.  This was definitely a good find because the applications included a picture of the applicants, and I had never "seen" my grandfather before.

Tampico, Mexico

Image by MichaelB in Houston via FlickrIn the 1920's [and a little before], Tampico, Mexico was a booming city with the introduction of the tramway/railway and the development of natural resources such as oil.  Many companie
s came there to "set-up shop", and apparently many Americans in search of work followed them, and my grandfather was one of them.

Happy and Bilingual [Sort Of]

So, what does this have to do with how my "Boo" received her nickname?  Well, I'm getting to that. As you can see, in the picture that was used for my Gran's application, there are 3 people.  On the left, I believe is my Aunt Anne [actually, she's my Gran's sister, but we always called her Aunt Anne], my Gran is on the right, and she's holding my Aunt Happy. [There's a story there, too, with that name.]  Aunt Happy was about 6 months old here in this picture.  The story that I heard countless times was that when the family came back from Mexico, my Aunt Happy could only speak Spanish, with just a few words known in English.  One of these words [and apparently one of her favorites] was "bamboo" [I suppose they had some growing there where they lived].  When not speaking Spanish, she called everything "bamboo" including my [you guessed it] great-grandmother, Alice Florence [Vaughan] Truitt.  Try as they may, they couldn't get her to call her anything else, and eventually it was truncated by my Aunt Happy to just Boo. And she's been Boo ever since.

Her Irish Eyes, They Were A Smilin'

My Boo, Alice Florence [Vaughan] Truitt was born in Port Bolivar, Texas 23 Oct 1883. [Port Bolivar is the peninsula that was one of the hardest hit areas by Hurricane Ike last year and is also known as Bolivar Point and The Bolivar Peninsula.]  Unfortantely, I don't have many memories of my own of my Boo.  In fact, I have just one.  I remember my Aunt Mary Anne and my Uncle Lloyd bringing Boo for a visit in the early 1970's and she was quite elderly then.  Uncle Lloyd was forever yelling at her.  No, not really yelling at her, but speaking very loudly to her [it just seemed to me like he was yelling].  Well, I never understood why he did that, so I asked him.  He replied that Boo was hard-of-hearing then he walked off.  I then turned to my Boo and said "I don't yell, and you're able to hear me just fine."  She replied, "Don't worry about him.  I just do it to annoy him."  [A woman after my own heart.]  
Image by The Library of Congress via Flickr [Howth & Ireland's Eye. County Dublin, Ireland.]

My Boo was a spry thing for being, at the time, just over 90 yrs old. [She passed away at age 94 in 1978.] Oh, that reminds me.  She danced the Irish Jig on her 90th birthday. I wish I had memories of it. I'm sure, though, her mother [my great-great grandmother] Annie (O'Brien) Vaughan's Irish eyes were a smilin' an' a watchin' from abov', stompin' her fee' an' clappin' her hands.

Genealogy, Catholicism, & Managing Women...

Mary Alice (Truitt) Blacketer

Drumroll, please...here is my Gran. If you've been reading my past stories then you know who I'm talking about. [If not, after this post read: "My Gran's Southern Hash," if you like...] She was such a sweet little lady [unless you got on her bad side, which I didn't because I was her favorite :)]. I don't have a whole lot of photographs of her, but I managed to find some "Mom" pics with all her kids over the years. One of the pictures [a copy actually] I stumbled upon when I found her passport application [way cool]. In it she's holding her infant daughter my Aunt Happy [a name worthy of another story], and an unidentified other woman, who, if I had to guess, is probably my Gran's sister, my Aunt Anne, but I don't know for sure. My Gran and her mother, my Boo [yes, there's a story behind that name, too] raised Gran's eight children together during World War II. My Gran worked several jobs outside of the home, and my Boo took care of things on the homefront. Like so many other mom's, they worked hard to "make it happen."

From Ireland to a Deck in Texas

My Gran's Gran, Annie O'Brien, who came to America [thru New Orleans, LA] from Dublin, Ireland was Catholic. [Shocker, right?] I was baptized a Catholic and remained one for only the first 3 years of my life. My dad didn't really like the Catholic Church, and he'd been raised a Methodist. So my mom and dad compromised and we became Episcopalian [can't say we aren't problem-solvers]. "Why didn't my dad like the Catholic Church," you ask? Well, if you read my 6-part series [yes, I said 6] on "Secrets" of my grandfather's then that might shed some light on it...So, what does this have to do with my Gran? One of my most vivid memories of her [other than her Southern hash] was that she was a devout Catholic who prayed religiously [pardon the pun]. She had her Saint Prayer Cards and her Rosary always in her pocket and she'd go outside to be in nature and talk to God...everyday...several times a day...without fail [in the rain, she'd sit on that same deck that my dad built...the one mentioned in "Runaway Bunny"]. And I remember when I was little thinking at the time that she and God sure talked a lot...[She was probably praying for my dad's non-Catholic soul! lol]

Three Managing Women

So here's to [really] 3 mom's my Gran, my Boo, and the outlandish Annie O'Brien [yeah, there's some stories there, too] - 3 hardworking, managing, Catholic women who never stopped and asked, "Why," but just kept working together to keep their homes together and their children healthy and happy...Happy Mother's Day, Gran, Boo, and Annie!

Caroline