Let Us Plan

The Eye of the Buffalo

The game has a cleanness. If you do a good job, the numbers say so. You don't have to ask anyone or play politics. You don't have to wait for the reviews.


Sandy Koufax

By the River

North Fork, Shoshone River

In the year of our Lord, 1970, we moved into a new house that our folks had built. Mom took our pictures by the front door.  I can't find mine at the moment, but I remember walking around outside the old farmhouse before they moved it, thinking it was more than good enough, just perfect, in fact, but the folks had it moved next door for Grandma to occupy, which she did for the next few years, so that was that.


Mom designed our house, as far as I remember, down to the square footage of the closets, to be spacious enough for the needs of a growing family with three daughters and a son.  Later, my baby sister, Heidi, completed our family of five kids and lots and lots of company.  Most family gatherings centered in the spacious kitchen and dining area of our home, and sometimes we spread out the expandable table in the long living room to accommodate even more guests.  While an energetic team of helpers cooperated to serve beautiful and delicious meals of lefse, sukiyaki and tempura, Dad kept things, and life in general, lively with games, pranks and stories for the guests inside and out.


From those carefully planned and abundant closets, Mom performed feats of magic.  For us and for our guests, coats and boots of all sizes appeared as needed.  She conjured from the depths a box filled with ice skates in various sizes and the warm winter clothing to accompany them: hats, gloves, snow pants, while Dad handled snow removal from the pond, and flooded it to freeze overnight.  He aired up inner tubes and located toboggans and helped us smooth the first run or two down the hill on the sleds.  His magic acts were more along the lines of getting a snowmobile unstuck from a snowbank, or bringing one back to life after someone flooded the engine, and fixing flat bike tires, and keeping the three wheeler, the lawn mower,and the Honda 90 in working condition.  In addition to other rabbits they pulled out of the hat, we found warm food to fill our tummies and a fire in the fireplace to warm our hands and feet and dry our wet gear. So much fun, supported now, I realize, by so much work and planning, before, during, and after the event.  


It all seemed very magical.  Snow packed boots tromping up the steps, rosy cheeks reddened by brisk winter temperatures, everything we needed appearing without fuss or bother.  Mom knew what she had and was quick to locate it.  All Dad asked was that we would sweep his shop for him once in a while.   Abacadabra...freezers and cupboards filled to the brim with easy to prepare food.  Presto...laundry done, clean sheets on the beds, towels folded, or mopping up the water that flooded the basement in the latest rain. As a kid, I took so much for granted, but today I understand that behind the spontaneous fun and the company we felt free to invite home at a moment's notice, was a lot of thoughtful planning. 


Planning.  What a word.  I'm learning to appreciate it.  What does it mean?

plan

 [plan]     Origin

Ads

noun, verb, planned,plan·ning.

noun

1.

a scheme or method of acting, doing, proceeding, making,etc., developed in advance: battle plans.

2.

a design or scheme of arrangement: an elaborate plan for seating guests.

3.

a specific project or definite purpose: plans for the future.

To me it meant that if I needed anything, Mom probably had it in her purse.  Or in the office, or the kitchen, or her desk.  And it means that I really missed Mom's purse when I left home.  Our family was magical, too.  We were experts at making fingernail clippers disappear.  Also socks, generally one of a pair, of course.  Coats, homework vanished, food spoiled. My family learned they could not depend on me to have anything.  I did not have a tissue, nor any lotion.  No, I did not have an emery board, I did not have a pair of paper scissors that kids could use, I did not even have a flashlight, no, not in the car, not in the house! No screwdriver either, but I am pretty sure I did have several. This was starting to sound like a real live Dr. Suess story that needed a happier ending.  Mom was an inspiration and I eventually got on board the magic train, although with less success than she.

Jerry has a system in his truck although anyone trying to catch a ride with him would not find it obvious.  The front seat is a disaster with parts and paperwork piled chest high, but you don't want to be the person who puts a tool back in the wrong place, because he will let you know when he finds it, because he thought he left it somewhere, and there it was in the WRONG bin. Thinking the office was my domain, I would occasionally sort and organize stacks of paperwork on his desk.  After a few times, he said, "Do not touch my desk!"  In all the heaps, he knows where things are, or so he says.  It's a fright and a disaster, just like his shop, too daunting of a task for the time, knowledge and space available.  I stand with trepidation in the doorway, thinking he has a bit of Houdini in him. 

A couple of times a year Mom would make a scowling safari into the storage room, unhappy with the mess we'd made of things, and a couple of hours later, emerge victorious.  Definitely a good time to be in another part of the house.  Afterwards, taking a quick peek only for fear of having an adverse effect, I admired the labeled boxes, the efficient use of space, the cleared path. Yay, Mom! So we each have a level of tolerance for disorder.  We know when we've reached the top, or the bottom, and that is when we take action. When. Enough. Is. Enough.

Kids on their own, but busier than ever, our work load increased and includes more frequent travel.  I look around at too many places that we've slacked off since the kids left home. So much ground has been lost in the battle for order while we match wits with the fire-breathing retirement dragon who has missed several deadlines already.  Although there is a good reason, the sad results are the same, whether I blame someone for my predicament or just accept this as my starting point.  Patient with myself I have been, and will be.  Inspired, calm, I shall conquer! Onward, brave heart! 

Broiled Shrimp and Scallops

Prep: 5 minutes
Cook: 10 minutes

1/4 c. butter
1/3 C dry white wine
1 T. fresh lemon juice
1 T. Worcestershire sauce
3 garlic cloves, pressed
Pinch of dried crushed red pepper
1/2 t. Salk
1/4 t. freshly ground black pepper
1 pound larged peeled and deveined shrimp
1 pound sea scallops, sliced in half if more than 1" thick
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
5 ounces baby spinach leaves

1. Preheat broiler with oven rack 6" away from element.  Place butter in a large roasting pan and place pan in oven just until butter melts.

2.  Remove pan from oven and stir in wine and  next 6 ingredients.  Add Shrimp, scallops and tomatoes, tossing to coat.
3.  Return pan to oven and broil 3 minutes.  Stir shrimp and turn scallops; broil 2 more minutes.  Remove pan from oven and add spinach, tossing about 1 minute or until slightly wilted.  Makes 6 servings.

 ***

  We tried this recipe on Sunday.  Easy, quick and the sauce is very good.  Jerry put red potatoes in the oven for the accompaniment rather than the french bread that was suggested.  I forgot the lemon juice and red pepper, but didn't notice until I typed this recipe out.  I used 1/2 pound of shrimp and sea scallops instead of one pound, but used the full amount of sauce ingredients.  We had more sauce than we needed even with serving it liberally over the potatoes. 

“Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.” ― John Lennon

Law of Attraction

The price

That must be paid,

Weeping wild.

Strong resentment,

Anger's token.

Time flickers,

Like a candle

Spitting wax,

A snarl of regret,

Straight reaction.

Present as 

A soft murmur

In perfect silence.

Hear, listening heart,

Love spoken.

Listen

Brushing softly

Oh, broken heart. 

A gentle murmur

Filled with passion

Hush,

Believe, and rest 

In reassuring vision.

The smiling eyes,

The main attraction.

MB