Little m Long a

I wasn’t quite finished with the mowing when I looked up and noticed my wife walking across the yard to me, arms waving to get my attention.  She was waddling really as she was, I believe the saying is “great with child.”  She had just returned from her weekly visit to the OB and I assumed was letting me know she was back home and wanted to know what I had planned for dinner.  She’s thoughtful like that.  Being that I had been mowing for the last three hours (hey, it’s a big lawn) I had surely given some thought to the matter of dinner and would have a hearty meal whipped up before the hum of the mower had died completely.

I knew immediately that she was not flagging me down for the purposes of discussing dinner preparations.  Something else was going on.  “Doc says the amniotic fluid level has decreased significantly since last weeks’ visit and that the uterine wall has a marked area of thinning.  He wants me back at the hospital for monitoring.”

“Monitoring?  What exactly did he say?  This does not sound like routine monitoring.”

“Well…He said the uterine wall is thin enough that it could spontaneously rupture and that the fluid level is low enough that the baby may be in danger so he just wanted to monitor for a few hours.  He said if everything was fine after a few hours of monitoring we could go back home and he would probably deliver the baby tomorrow.  Other than that the visit was great!”

We weren’t ready.  Is anyone ever?  Immediately we sprang to action calling family, my sister-in-law dropped everything to keep watch over Zoe and Zane and my wife and I made way for the hospital.  (Yes, I did shower first.)  They had been expecting us and in short order my wife was connected to all manner of monitoring devices and paraphernalia.  Not sure if it’s because my wife is a doctor at the hospital or if the people on the OB ward treat everyone this way but I felt like we were the only people there, that our situation was real and important to them.  They were caring and comforting and could not have been more pleasant.

To my great relief, everything the monitor was showing us reflected the way that my wife was feeling—just fine.  After about an hour, the doctor stopped by to discuss the situation.  His words were, “everything looks fine, baby is doing just fine and your vitals are all fine.  If you feel OK you can go home and we’ll schedule the C-section for in the morning.  Or…, since you’re here and I’m here and the OR team is here now we could go ahead and do this now.”  His eyes were saying, “Pick B! Pick B!!”

As my wife would say, “That’s a softball.”  Her little term for a no brainer, an easy one, get your head out of your ass this is as clear as day kind of question.  We picked B.  And so it was that around dinner time our little Zia came screaming into the world, pulled from the relative comfort of the womb that had kept her safe and warm these past months.  Screaming, I say because I vividly recall this scenario.

After the delivery, as is customary, Zia was taken down the hall to the nursery to be cleaned and swaddled evaluated and whatever it is that they do to newborn babies.  My wife was quite sore from the C-section and still quite loopy from the medications that had been given her during the delivery.   Not ten full minutes had passed when the phone rang in the OR suite (yes, we were still in the OR suite) and the nurse on the other end of the phone said, “Come get this screaming child!”
You know, she still screams louder than any of my kids.  I can’t believe it’s been four years.  Happy Birthday, Zia!  I love you, Curly Sue!

My complete mangling of the English language is no more apparent than when I wish to put into words sincere emotions.  Emotions of love, remembrance, gratitude.  I’ve been trying for almost a week now, starting and stopping, deleting.  A lot of deleting.  For some reason I didn’t want this one to pass, though.  Bear with me.  This past Monday, the 21st, my Grandmother would have been…..well, really old.  She passed many years ago.  I no longer celebrate the day save to note that it would have been Mammaw’s birthday.  I think of her often but something caused quite the pause just yesterday.

Our fruit trees are blooming and that means in just a few short months–Mammaw’s Lazy Cobbler!  That’s right.  My grandmother made some of the best fruit cobbler I have ever tasted, or will ever taste for that matter.  I suppose a lot of it has to do with the fact that she didn’t have to work at making food taste good.  She enjoyed cooking and did it well.  My poor Mom, on the other hand, was not quite as talented in the culinary arts.  She did not inherit Mammaw’s touch.  If my grandmother was Midas in the kitchen my mother would have been…..not Midas.  She could burn water trying to boil an egg.  But I digress.

So back to the Lazy Cobbler.  A quick internet search will provide hundreds of variations on the theme but I think my Mammaw’s was not only classic but truly lazy.  And it tasted great.  Ready?

1 cup flour
1 cup sugar
1 cup milk
1 stick butter (melted or very soft)
1 tsp baking powder
Fresh Fruit peeled and sliced (peaches, pears, apples, cherries–your choice)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
(When using the fresh fruit) In a sauce pan mix the fruit with some sugar (eyeball it) and some water (about 1/2 cup) and cook until soft.  Place fruit in a baking pan—drain excess juice if needed you don’t want it too runny.  (I use a 9×13 Pyrex dish–use what you’ve got).
In a large bowl mix the flour, sugar, milk, butter and baking powder.
Pour batter over fruit in pan.
Bake about 35-45 minutes or until golden brown.

This cobbler is great hot, cold, with whipped cream, ice cream or on it’s own.  I know that whenever I make it the counter life is pretty short.  I can not think of a more fitting way to remember my grandmother.  The spring time blooms nearly coinciding with her birthday are pretty cool!

*Disclaimer:  I can cook–very well–I just can’t tell anyone else how to do it much less write down a recipe correctly.  Before trying this or any other food preparation I may suggest to you it would be wise to reference an expert!*

Intended to inspire an awareness of and an appreciation for  the Earth’s environment, Earth Day is celebrated today at it has been each April for the past thirty eight years.  A grassroots campaign initiated back then served as a wake up call of sorts to help people to realize the impact of our actions on the planet and give the environment a national spotlight.  A movement was born and today Earth Day is celebrated not only in America but in countries all over the world.  But are we really doing right by our dear Mother Earth?

People take to the streets celebrating, organizing rallies, staged marches on political institutions, speeches, concerts and festivals.  One can don their favorite “Be Nice to Your Mother” t-shirt pack up the ice chest and Styrofoam plates with plastic sporks, maybe even the hibachi, and head off to the park with thousands of other like minded enlightened to listen to your favorite bands perform their favorite tunes at ear bleed decibels all the while trampling Spring’s offering of new green grass and hopeful flower buds discarding used cups, plates and napkins along the way because someone neglected to pack trash bags.  These same people will spend forty minutes looking for the recycle bin for their beer cans and in that same time span flick half a pack’s worth of Marlboro butts on the ground.

Zoë’s school had a poster campaign and a dress down day in honor of the event.  Innocuous enough I suppose, yet I hardly believe that any of the paper used for the posters will be recycled (I know the three rejected ideas in our house were not).  And the money collected from dress down privileges.  Well, that’s going towards the purchase of microphones for the auditorium.  A much needed item, mind you but in my advanced and cynical age I tend to view amplified noise as not very environmentally friendly.

So it’s Earth Day.  Again.  Like the saying goes, Every Day is Earth Day, and unfortunately I’ll have to delay my observances.  As much as I’d like to reduce my impact, if even for the day, I’m off to fire up every piece of power equipment I own because Spring has sprung and my yard is rapidly overtaking me.  Sorry, Mom.  But you need a haircut!

Anyone doing anything special for Earth Day?

Peace, Dude!