Providence 1974 Chapter 2

This is pretty much what I thought I was!

I know I know I was actually a little bit passed this time period,  but who is really looking at the date.  There are people I know right now who really are just old hippies and it's 2015!  I digress....

As I was relating in the previous chapter,  I had a babysitting job with an awesome family not really very far from my parents home.  

One day when I was sitting for my little guy, whom I adored, and he seemed to like hanging out with me pretty much...there was a knock at the door, knock, knock, knock.  So I went and checked who was there and there was this man, well built attractive, hippy-ish looking man.

We talked at first thru the door.  Turned out he was an old friend of the family, for whom I was sitting.  So eventually I allowed him to come in and we talked and talked.  We got to be very close friends, we really seemed to like a lot of the same things, the same foods, the same music, although in all honesty I must say that he really educated me when it came to music.  He was a pretzel salesman during the day and a musician by occasional night, as well as a concert musician on some weekends.  

Do any of you out there have any idea how extraordinarily
flattering it is to a young girl, who has "Daddy issues," be treated like a young woman, with love and respect?  He was so kind and so dear.

I was still in high school, but a babysat a lot!  For me it was anything I could find to get out of the house.  While looking back on things I can see plainly that all I wanted was to get away and on my own...after I graduated from high school, I had a job at Bachman Pretzels (and no it wasn't the same company my friend worked at), so I was able to get a small two room apartment in the city.  I thought this was great!

But was it really?  I was so rebellious!  I was dating my friend at this point and it didn't take very long till I gave up my apartment and was living with my friend.  

He had a house that was very old, in the city, was only a few blocks from my old apartment, and within walking distance to many businesses.  Back in the middle 70's most people in that area went to the butcher shop and the farmers market, instead of the grocery store.  It was so much more personal and I really loved this. Plus I loved to cook!  Win! Win!

A fun story about cooking.....

Veal Stew

I had gone to the market and I really wanted to try my hand at making Veal Stew and I wanted to surprise my dear one...so I had everything I needed.  I started cooking and cooking and cooking...first of all I cut up and started with the meat and onions and garlic.  Because I knew that veal, from a shoulder cut was a bit tough I thought perhaps I should get that started so it could cook for a longer period of time.  So it could begin to get tender.

Next I added the carrots and turnips and potatoes and leeks and peas and skinless and seeded tomatoes...any vegetables I could get a hold of went into that stew.  I love stew and still do...any kind and all kinds. 

So while this simmered on our old converted stove, I say converted because it was originally an old wood stove that had been fitted with gas fixtures so that it now ran on gas but there where still the compartments for wood burning, just no longer used.  It was a grand old stove, I loved it and I loved cooking on it.

Okay so the stew wouldn't be stew unless I thickened it. So I got out my jar with corn starch and worked on mixing up my cornstarch and water mixture.  (This is no longer my choice for thickening stew, I have since found much better ingredients for doing this.)  Alright I knew that in order to thicken I needed a nice rolling boil...so I turned up the heat and let things warm up a bit.  Rolling boil achieved so I got my jar with the thickening agents and started to pour them into the stew,  something was going terribly wrong as I was stirring  the stew it started to boil up and up and over and over some more, and I turned off the heat and it kept boiling over and over and I had no idea what was going on!

What had I done?  Think...think....think...

I went to the cupboard and got out the corn starch...I didn't like having ugly boxes in my cupboard and I had a habit of dumping those ugly boxes into my pretty mason jars....let me tell you that isn't a great idea unless they are clearly labeled with what they contain...

Do you know baking soda doesn't thicken stew, but it sure makes a heck of a mess!  And to top it all off....do you have any idea how many parts there are to stove like I was using?  Oh My Goodness....tons and tons and tons of parts.  And they all needed to be cleaned.

Thank Heavens I had gotten an early start, my wonderful musician was not due home for at least three hours.  Now you may think the story ends here, but wait there's more.

I finally had finished cleaning up the stove.  That was one thing accomplished.  What was I going to do with all that stew?  It was a approximately a 20 quart stock pot that had been full...once it had calmed down it was now between 1/2 and 3/4's full, probably closer to 1/2.

I played with some spices and pepper and garlic, do you know that you can not hid the wonderful flavor of about a 1/2 cup of baking soda...you just cant hid it.

So I thought I would just see what my sweety thought of the veal stew.  He was due home any moment. When he got home he could smell the aromas of what had been a delicious soup. and he wanted some, I put some in a bowl and he tasted it and spit it out, you know how when you put something in your mouth and you kinda of have your lips pursed and it sprays everywhere...well that is what happened.  Of course I was giggling, you could say I have a Disney sense of humor...what ever could go wrong, does, and then it gets worse, and of course as long as no one is being injured, it just gets a life of it's own and gets funnier and funnier.   That is what happened; he wasn't angry, it wasn't intentional, it was a mistake, albeit a pretty funny one, once I was able to get thru all the telling of it.  Oh we did laugh about that for a long time, and he was a bit cautious tasting what I cooked for a little while, but eventually  he stopped doing that, much to my great joy. 

So whats next?  

I guess you will have to come back another day and find out!

Providence 1973 Chapter 1

GRADUATION!

Yay God!

And sadly, I must say, that this wasn't being said reverently.  

I was 18 and just graduated from high school. 

For most this is an amazing time! 

For me I couldn’t wait to move out of my parent’s home and out from under their thumbs.  My mother was a bit of a tyrant, who really liked things her way.  And it really didn’t matter whether she was right or wrong, it was only her opinion that counted.

Daddy was great, except he didn’t stand up to mother.  Sadly this was not an uncommon phenomenon back in the 70’s, when there was a second marriage and children involved.

There were times, I wondered what life might have been like had I lived in a normal family…you know, with one mother, one father, one sibling, and maybe a cat and dog thrown in for good measure.

Hmm…didn’t happen!

I had one mother, two fathers, and one sister to start with, and an afghan hound for a dog and then another afghan hound added to the first…do you have any idea, how much effort is required to have a handsome afghan hound, let alone two afghan hounds?  These two dogs where an extremely cruel joke to lay on any child or children, as was the case in our home.

Well I will back up a tiny bit…

My mother first married a career army man, and I frankly think that there was some of the same kind of thinking going on in her head as I had going on in mine when I graduated from high school.  Funny how I just this moment realized this piece of information.

Mother and dad married and shortly thereafter my sister was born.  21 Months later I was born.  When my sister and I were about five and three, we moved to Germany, Munich to be precise.

I can remember there were some interesting times, my father was an alcoholic.  Not unusual back then when you were in the service.

But apparently he took his last drink the day I was born.  And I think this may have been difficult for my mother, when Daddy was drinking she could control him in some ways, that she wasn’t able to when he was sober.  I know that sounds a bit off but, if that were not the case then why did she divorce him after he became and stayed sober?

Mother was the control addict, not daddy.  Mother was the one who decided my sister and I would answer, “Yes Sir, No Sir, Yes Mam, and No Mam.”  To our parents to start, and later to whomever we had contact.

Oh and we had a nanny, a governess, if you would, and someone who was from Germany and who spoke only broken English I believe, to start.  Elsa, someone from my childhood whom I would love to know if she is still alive.  I would love to reconnect with her, perhaps fill in some of the gaps.

Elsa took my sister on many, many, adventures!  We went to the Black Forest and saw where there were huge holes in the ground from the bombs during WWII.  She also hitch hiked, yes with the thumb out, with my sister and I to the October Fest.  She was definitely a very bright spot in our days as children growing up.

And then the sadness of moving back to the United States, my sister and mother and I living with my grandfather, who was an active alcoholic and not very nice when he was drinking, which was most of the time.  And were was daddy?  He was in Indiana.  At the big army base in Indianapolis, IN.

After mother had met a man whom my sister and I thought we had arranged for the meeting, which we really hadn’t, but we didn’t find this out till years later. 

Life did settle down a bit and my sister and I were enjoying life a bit….however we wanted to visit daddy.

And in 1963, daddy had a brief encounter with a fine women, and was then sent to Alaska, more in later chapters, maybe... Mother wouldn’t let us go to Alaska.  But when daddy came back to Indiana we were able to finally go for a visit.

                                                             

I can remember this so clearly.   
We  were able to go and see our grandparents, and great grandma Miller, who was quite old and still living by herself.  What a wonderful visit.  We also where introduced to our stepmother and I believe she was pregnant with a son, our half-brother, when we were finally allowed to go and visit our dad.When we got home we were introduced to Pun-ke that was his short name, and you really don’t need to know the long name…way to long.  This was our first Afghan. 

This dog certainly added a whole new dimension to our lives...this picture isn't of our Pun-ke, but he certainly looked a lot just like him.

My mother was able to get a really good price on him because his very first show, he lifted his leg on the judge.  This was a puppy class, but it still ended his showing days...So Pun-Ke ended up becoming a pet.  Now just try to imagine what a dog like this would need when he was walked in the rain, or better yet in the snow!  This was not a kid friendly dog, at least as far as his care was concerned.  Folks, never ever do this to a child or children, it really isn't a fair thing to do.

A few years go by and bring on Farrah...(this is not actually her, but it could have been...)

                                        She was a lovely apricot afghan who loved to play.  She had been abused, so once again my mother got a deal. Pun-Ke and Farrah played and played and now my sister and I had twice the amount of work....

Time went on, and my sister graduated from high school and went on to nursing school, two more years, I had a little job, I had a bike to get around on and a car at my disposal on occasion.  Was I happy?

No! I was probably pretty miserable as well as miserable to be around.

I had my baby-sitting, and some freedom when I was baby-sitting....

One of the family's I sat for had a friend that wasn't really to much older than I, or so I thought....10 years when you are 17 isn't that big a difference, at least that is what I thought and no-one could tell me any different!

Are you wondering where this is going to go....guess you will have to come back and see!