Lá an Mháthair faoi shona dhuit!

Which roughly translated means Happy Mother's Day in Irish.

We are attmepting to learn Irish and it is very hard. Nothing sounds quite like it looks. But we have fun laughing at ourselves.

My paternal grandmother was Irish. My Maternal Grandmother was English. I argue with myself a lot.

On Mother's Day at our church they hand out some sort of token of appreciation for what women do to make the world go around just a little bit gentler and prettier. Sometimes it's a little inspirational booklet. Other times it's a potted flower plant. But my favorite is when it's a Sees Candy bar. For one thing I kill the plant before it ever has a chance. The booklet is nice but I'm all about the chocolate.


I wasn't very close to my real mom growing up. We didn't have the bond my daughter and I have. I have few happy memories actually surrounding her alone. When I was grown she and I were pretty much estranged. It wasn't on my part. I tried my best to get close to her.

As an adult, I had an older friend whom I loved and adored. She and I were good friends despite our age difference. I could talk to her about anything. She lit up my life.

We had a little get together a long time ago which my dad came out for and he met my friend for the first time, though he knew her from my stories about her. That day she kinda thought he glowed, had an aura about him. I think it was love at first sight.

One day a few months later, I get this phone call from my dad and he tells me he is coming out for the day to see us and bringing a friend. I said "Okay!".

Well...he shows up with MY friend. What??? When did this happen? Well...you see... they had been dating behind my back. No one told me a thing. They were sneaky little buggers.

About a year later they were married and she became my mother/my friend. I had never seen my dad this happy ever. She kept him in stitches. She was his soul mate. She was my mother. My friend. She was Irish.

She passed away close to 10 years ago and I miss her every single day. It was so hard at first. I would go to pick up the phone to call her and then the stark realization would hit me right in the gut. She was gone. I knew though, that she was in a good place smiling down at us. I can't wait to see her again someday so she can tell me a silly story and make me laugh.

I'll have to tell you some of those stories someday soon.

So I am content being a mother and a grandmother. I love to make those little grand girls laugh. Her legacy lives on in my silliness...and my love for them.

Lá an Mháthair faoi shona dhuit!

You Decide What I Make Next...and Happy Birthday Dad!

 Today is my dad's birthday. It's not quite his one hundred and eleventieth birthday but it is his eighty first birthday. His feet look okay to me...no hobbit feet.

 My dad lives with us. We never see him. He goes to the gym and senior center every day but Sunday. He goes out to lunch every day but Sunday. We do see him at church and Sunday dinner. What a snob, huh? Elderly people start eating lunch for supper at noon and go to bed at 5pm. He's missing most of my PW recipes. AND he couldn't care less. But when he does get to taste one he says "Thanks Honey, it was good". GOOD? I want him to say it was the bestest food he's ever tasted in this whole wide world and he can never eat other food because it spoiled him. But he likes Denny's better. I can tell.
 
 Remember that Friends episode where Ross points to his forehead and says "Unagi" like he's psychic or something?  My dad and I have "Unagi". But mostly when we lived in different states and one of us would call the other...the call-ee would  ALWAYS say "I was just thinking about calling you!". Now we never see him even though his bedroom is right down the hall. He's too busy. Or asleep.

 We're taking him out to lunch today...well...we will meet him somewhere since he won't be here. He will be at the gym working out. I'm not sure which restaurant he'll pick. I guess I should ask him, huh?

 When I was young and living in Phoenix, Arizona my dad worked out of town during the week and on the weekends he was home. Saturday mornings we would go horseback riding. Every Saturday morning. I took 3 lessons and told the instructor I was ready to do it on my own...and I was. I took off on that noble steed and never looked back. I thank my dad today for giving me the opportunity to be around what I think are God's greatest most beautiful beasts on the earth.

 I was attached to a horse by the breeches for many years and I knew every inch of my horse. I can still feel the soft muzzle cupped in my hands with the whiskers tickling my face and the course tail running through my fingers as I combed out every knot. I can feel every contour of the massive torso in my mind. I can also smell the stank of the gross moldy gook that came out of his feet while I cleaned them. I loved my horses. I truly miss that daily fix.

I am trying to decide what to make from The Pioneer Woman Cooks and I have narrowed it down to 3 for this weekend. I need to go shopping for the ingredients...sooo

So what do YOU think I should make next?

Perfect chili?
Perfect simple enchiladas?
or Penna Alla Betsy?

You decide.

Also, please don't forget to 'follow' this blog. I will give away a PW Cook cookbook when I reach 100 followers.