Thanksgiving 2014

A lot of what happened this weekend was shaped by what happened last weekend.  Last weekend, Sheila decided that we needed to take a load of green waste to the dump and get it out of our backyard. Our son-in-law Robert graciously loaded it up for us on Saturday. Sunday, when it quit raining, we headed up to the green waste dump site. That's where IT happened.

For the past several months, my knees had been getting progressively better.  I had been walking without a cane (and without excessive pain) most of the time and helped along by Synvisc injections into the joint of the worst knee, the left, I was getting around pretty well and feeling pretty good.

However, Sunday morning, when I walked around the pickup to begin unloading the green waste at the dump, my knee joint tore again. There was only minor pain at the moment and I thought nothing about it.  But, by Sunday night, I couldn't walk.  I was literally dragging my left leg behind me as I leaned on a three point cane to get from my chair to the bathroom.  The pain was intense and I simply couldn't get around. It didn't get any better the next day.  So, whatever we did for Thanksgiving was going to include the big cane, pain pills and me strapped into carbon fiber and velcro from my crotch to my ankle.  But, it still wasn't going to include my walking more than a few steps or standing for more than a few moments.  Even with the pain pills, the joint wouldn't support me.

Sheila called Jincy's in Qualls and made reservations for us for Thanksgiving dinner.  We were given the 1:00 o'clock sitting. The Baker clan (as in Chief Bill John and crew) had apparently pretty well filled up the 11:00 o'clock.
The drive over and back was a pleasant break from the house where I had been confined for the past several days. Our lunch companions were a mixed batch of locals, lake dwellers down for the weekend and folks from the big city like us. The only real common denominator was an intense sense of what I can only call "Okieness." The talk was mostly about things like the extinction of quail, the small deer population, baby foxes sneaking around lake cabins, etc. Debbie, the owner talked about her good hay crop this year and the fact that she couldn't get anybody to haul square baled hay anymore.

The meal was the best turkey dinner I have ever had.  It was sweet how Debbie and Diana fussed over us and helped Sheila get me served from the buffet line.  I was touched. Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant can be pretty dismal.  Debbie and Diana went out of their way to make everyone feel at home and succeeded, at least on our part.  It was a fabulous meal served in a warm, friendly, family like setting.

I talked Sheila out of doing much Black Friday shopping by showing her that the savings really weren't worth the hassle.  She decided to just get a few things for herself.

On the way out, we had lunch at Calaveras. Calaveras is located on the corner of Admiral and Lewis right square in the middle of the Kendall-Whittier Square arts district. It is a perfect place to see an art film at the oh so fashionable Circle Cinema or buy art supplies, framing materials or even religious artifacts at the huge, family run, Ziegler's store.  You can also get mugged or shot while you watch drunks pile out of the nearby, legendary, Bee Hive Lounge.  Until very recently, you could also view "private screenings" of another type of "art film" and buy videos, books, DVD's etc. aimed at that other "art market" at a disreputable place that was frequented by men who could only be described as creepy.  That place has apparently, finally, shut down after years of complaints.

The meal at Calvera's was excellent.  Sheila had a torta, a Mexican sandwich with meat, beans and guacamole, and other fixins made on a whole load of Mexican bread split in half and toasted on the grill.  I had a chile relleno burrito.  It was composed of meat, rice, beans and grilled chilis and
topped with slices of chile rellenos stuffed with white cheese.  It is usually served covered with a white queso sauce but I asked for it on the side instead and just sampled a little bit of it.

Mexican food is very diverse and changes from region to region and here in Tulsa from block to block depending upon where the folks came from.  I don't know where these folks came from but the menu is what I call Cal-Mex because it is very much like the delicious Mexican fusion food served in the barrios and food trucks of California.

The atmosphere at Calvera's is more fast food than I care for and the crowd is a mix between artsy and musician types, old money from the rich neighborhoods a mile or so south and really poor folks from the immediate neighborhood splurging. It is a strange and perhaps unsettling mix of both people and neighborhood. For example, we couldn't park near the door and I couldn't walk the half block or so from the nearest parking space.  So, Sheila let me off at the door and parked the car.  But, I watched her from the street every second from the moment the car stopped until she was safely in the restaurant. I prefer El Burrito a mile or so down Admiral at Pittsburg where the crowd is mostly Mexican families and working men mixed with merchants and working people from the nearby factories and businesses.

After lunch, Sheila did her personal shopping. She has a thing for SteinMart. She acquired a new bag, a new pair of pants and a new pair of shoes,  After SteinMart, there was a quick stop at Sams and then the WalMart neighborhood market for few groceries.  I sat in the car, enjoyed the sun on my face, watched people and listened to several episodes of Gunsmoke on the satellite radio.

Friday night, we settled in a for quick home cooked meal and an evening of Australian television from the net.  We have become kind of addicted to an Aussie family dramedy called "Packed To The Rafters," and their equivalent of a police procedural called "Blue Heelers."  The Aussie programming is quite entertaining but not nearly as brassy and in your face as American programming has become. It's also more polite and good-natured. I really can't stomach much American network TV anymore. It insults my intelligence and my values.

It was a less than ideal holiday.  Sheila is working at TU today and we will be in all day tomorrow.  I have lived with the knee pain before and I suspect I will get through this rough patch as well. Somehow, I have to drag myself into the courthouse Monday.  After that, hopefully, the docs can get me in for physical therapy to begin working on loosening up and strengthening out the torn joint. But, I am thankful for all of the good things that happened this weekend.  Debbie and Diana served us a wonderful meal, Sheila had a good time picking up a few new things and I have had worse afternoons than sitting in the sun drinking a big Diet Coke and listening to Gunsmoke.  And, I am thankful for the hope that, through God's grace, this will just be another rough patch with the arthritic knees and things will get better soon.

Bill and Sheila Do Canning

Sheila loves her little backyard garden. Some of her happiest hours are spent back there digging around in the dirt and watching her little crop grow. The garden did well this year.  The okra and peppers did exceptionally well.  We gave away okra to everyone in the neighborhood and everyone who came to the house. We sent Olivia, a lovely latina lady who helps Sheila with the house, home with big bags of veggies every time she came.  But, we still had a dining table full of vegetables, mostly peppers, a lot of jalapenos, a nice bunch of various sweet peppers, some habeneros and some that had apparently cross pollinated.

Yesterday, we spent the morning cleaning house. We were just getting ready to fix lunch when the doorbell rang.  It was Olivia with a huge bowl of Pozole that she had cooked the night before. Pozole is a Mexican stew made of pork, hominy and chilis.  You eat it garnished with crisp tortillas, shredded lettuce or cabbage, onions and radishes and lime or lemon juice.  It was an amazing lunch.

After lunch, Sheila decided to can some jalapeno jelly. Jalapeno jelly sounds like an oxymoron to Yankees and midwesterners who don't tolerate spicy food well anyway.  To the unwary, it looks like a clear, mild apple or mint jelly. However, the moment it hits your tongue you will be disabused of that notion.  To those who develop a taste for it, it is a culinary delight. It is good eaten plain on toast with butter or a garnish on meat. But, when you add cream cheese to the mixture and serve it on toast points you have a gourmet delicacy, sweet, savory, hot and creamy all at the same time.  We nearly doubled the amount of jalapenos called for in the recipe and got the temperature just right for folks who eat authentic Mexican in the local barrio almost daily.

Unfortunately, the batch of jelly didn't make a scratch in the number of peppers we still had on hand so Sheila decided to pickle some.  We already had the hot water bath going and all of the equipment out so why not?  By the time the first batch was cooling, it was dinner time and we were out of fruit jars. So, we went down the street to Sam's Southern Eatery and had dinner and then on to the WalMart Neighborhood Market for more fruit jars. 

By the time we finished, we had nearly a case of 1/4 pint jars of jalapeno jelly and nearly two cases of half pint jars of pickled jalapenos.   It was also past eight o'clock and kitchen was a disaster area.  But, nothing would do Sheila but to have it completely clean before she went to bed.  I was asleep long before she was finished.

As we were sealing the last few jars, I decided to taste the product.  Sheila warned me not to.  She had been wearing two pairs of surgical gloves all through the process and still had pepper burns on her hands.  I told myself it couldn't be that bad, picked a couple of slices off of the top of the jar closest to me and popped them in my mouth.  Within seconds, I was chugging lemonade straight from the half gallon jar in the fridge.  It would appear that our little jalapeno friends must have cross pollinated with their habanero neighbors or something.  The pickling process will calm them down some I'm sure, but these are not going to be peppers for sissies and Yankees. 

I'm sure my mom was looking down from heaven and laughing her head off at Sheila and I canning itty bitty jars of condiments in a pasta cooker.  When I was a child, I spent many long, steamy days in the kitchen with mom working over her high tech steam pressure canner putting up quart jars of everything from corn and peas to sausage patties and beef stew for the winter. 

Sometimes you do things for the joy and symbolism of it.  I'm sure we could have bought a couple of cases of pickled jalapenos and a case of jalapeno jelly for a lot less than it cost to make it, especially if you factor in the hourly rate for Sheila and I's labor.  But, it wouldn't have been peppers from our garden and canned in our kitchen.  To people who grew up on farms, there is something primal and satisfying about putting your crop away for the winter, even if it just symbolic.  And yes, even though we wore ourselves out, a good time was had by all.   

A Double Anniversary

Sheila and I celebrated a double anniversary last night, our 45th wedding anniversary and Sheila's fifth year of being cancer free.

For reasons I may not be completely able to explain, Sheila and I are both drawn to a strange little place down by Lake Tenkiller that is so deep in the sticks that you swear you are lost every time you head there but eventually drive up on it anyway.  Getting there is part of the mystique I guess.

Jincy's Kitchen in Qualls, Oklahoma is something of a legend.  During the depression it was a general store run by a

woman. Later, it was one of the sets for the movie, "Where the Red Fern Grows."  Now, still operated by a family member, it is a legendary family style restaurant that manages to draw a good crowd most nights it is open despite being absolutely in the middle of nowhere.

Wayne and Pam

We were joined by Sheila's niece, Pam Edwards, and her long time life companion Wayne Elliot.  Pam and Sheila were like sisters growing up and Pam is also a long term breast cancer survivor.

Mike and Jodi

Sheila and I's usual partners in crime, Mike and Jodi Sala, rode over with us.  Mike and I got to know each other serving on the board of a private school and a lifelong friendship developed between the families.

We arrived just as the band was tuning up, a local family group called Oklahoma Wildlife.  They were very good musicians but their lead singer had something extra. She sang with a big old smile on her face and just threw her head back and let it happen.  She was happy to be there, was having a great time and did her best to share her joy with everybody else. She succeeded.  Her joy and enthusiasm were contagious.

Between songs, the band emceed a game of Trivial Pursuit with the crowd.  Sheila won the first question by knowing that Pan was the "shepherd demigod that invented the flute."  The MC and the crowd were stunned.  I felt like blurting out, "appearances can be deceiving, folks.  She is actually a magna cum laude grad of the TU business school."  But, I didn't. I won the next question by knowing the name of Charles Darwin's ship on his alleged voyage of discovery, the Beagle.  By this time the crowd was getting restless. Somebody pointedly asked, "How in the world could you have known that?"  I just murmured that I read a lot and didn't say anything about multiple degrees or being a published author.  Given the mood of the crowd, our table held back after that.  I learned as a child that being too smart can start a game that ends badly.

You pretty well have to be southern to understand Jincy's.  The place is the distilled essence of the Eastern Oklahoma southern/hill culture.  It looks like the place where we would walk in as barefoot children clutching a precious nickle or dime to buy a

candy bar or a coke, a rare treat that was infrequently enjoyed.  It sounds like the places of our youth where the gentle Okie hill country dialect was spoken and homemade music filled the background.  It smells like the places of our youth. Jincy's is heated by a potbellied stove. The smell of the woodsmoke, combined with the old store smells and the authentic aromas of a southern kitchen, take you back to where you came from if you are southern.  Every person I have ever taken to Jincy's says the same thing about the food, "that tastes just like my Mama's cooking." And it does.  For a moment, you can close your eyes and be home again.

As we were leaving, the band stopped us and serenaded us on the front porch in celebration of our anniversary.  It was touching.  I wrapped my arm around Sheila and we stood there and listened as our companions joined in the little song celebrating our life together.  It was a sweet moment whose memory will last a lifetime.  It is important to mark the milestones in your life.  This one was well marked and will be fondly remembered.