Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve been sitting on my ass, staring at this computer screen. Accomplishing nothing. Moving only to go to the kitchenette to get more cookies and chocolate-covered pretzels. I feel like shit. Sugar-coated, chocolate shit.
So, Velocibadgergirl has corrected me, and rightfully so: Rapeseed Oil is a real thing, AKA Canola Oil, which is a good save on the nomenclature, because who wants to go to the grocery and ask where to find the Rapeseed Oil?
How about another food mix-up story?
This one happened when I was probably about 8 years old, at the beginning of the time my brain stood up for itself and started freaking out any time I encountered a meaty dish on my plate. At the time of my budding vegetarianism.
At my grandmother’s house in the summer, my cousins were all hopping around the freezer as she pulled out some ice cream drumsticks. They were from the Schwann Man, who brought frozen meats and treats to all of Southern Indiana on a weekly basis. I was unfamiliar with the Schwann Company, as we barely had two nickels to rub together and we sure as shit were not leisurely paging through a catalog having our bulk frozen foods delivered.
So my cousins were all hopping around, all knees and elbows, yammering about “Schwann Drumsticks! Schwann Drumsticks!” Because, you know, the kids do like the ice cream.
When my grandmother presented me with my very own ice cream treat, I couldn’t eat it, even though it looked like ice cream with chocolate and nuts. I clamped my lips together and just shook my head. NO. I will not be eating nasty swan legs stuffed in an ice cream cone and covered in ice cream and chocolate. just. NO. You people are disgusting.
So, just returned a couple of days ago from the giant family shin-dig hootenanny that is my husband’s extended family Christmas gathering. This year, many cabins were rented in an Indiana state park, as the family is bursting at the seams with new spouses and new children.
It was truly delightful, with a big dinner in the lodge and gift exchange on Saturday night, a chance for Bird to play with other little ones and run, I swear, about eight full miles around the dining room and down the hallways. A. and some cousins took the kids for a hike. The weather was a spooky-warm seventy degrees.
Despite a few dark behavioral clouds (the adults, not the kiddos), we had a really, really great time. Bird became so attached to a 10-year old cousin that she wouldn’t give me the time of day. A. stayed up until morning jabbering with his cousins two nights in a row. I connected with a few cousins in a different and deeper way, now that I’m a part of the mama’s club. One thing I can always say about this family is that they truly love being together, and it shows. I’m quite lucky to have joined them.