Cookbooks

I have a vast collection of cookbooks that I purchased at yard sales, antique stores, ladies auxiliary, or any bookstore that has a Starbucks in it. I have tried to condense my kitchen library several times, but this cookbook has this recipe and I cannot do without that recipe; then they get replaced in the bookshelf right where they belong, right where I need them to be if I am looking for that particular recipe everyone enjoys.

But, I have found some of the best recipes are those I just “whipped up” and “add a little of this” and a “squeeze of that”, needs a “pinch”, then “top it off with grated and crumbled”, and serve.

The table has been set, the aromas have filled the air, and the voices are leaving their rooms and entering my domain, and the only language I hear them speak is “Umm, yumm”. It’s funny though, because it is a language I understand. Okay, so I keep the cookbooks for comfort and because it provides the look of a gourmet cook (prideful, tsk,tsk.)and I have used a few recipes. So, I must confess, “Father, most of the time these cookbooks stay on the shelf and I use the ingredients Mom used back home to guide my cooking. I am following the “Old Bookmark” in my mind as it turns the pages of the Commandments I remember like: Do not add cinnamon instead of cumin in the Spanish rice, (my first attempt at making rice), Do not forget to put the sugar in the custard, (Oops!, but I asked him if he was alright!), and, Do not catch my blouse on fire from the gas cook stove, (it was one of my favorites, too). Father, you have kept me alive and others as well. For which, I give you thanks. Amen".

Happy Birthday, Jared

Twenty-one years; it seems like such a long time but it happened when I blinked my eyes. You passed the teen years and we came through alright, now the fun really begins. This is where, for many, decisions are cemented in life, perhaps marriage, purchasing a home, or whether to have a family and settle down. None the less, I know whatever decision you make will be done carefully and with prayer as you have shown through the early years to be your heart’s desire to please our Lord. I love you, Son, “Happy Birthday”, and happy, happy everything and everyday of your life. You make me proud just to be your mom.

Raspberry 51Chevy Convertible Deluxe

Just for one night, when the weather was still cool, in this incredible car we went to get ice cream. This kind of car gets the attention of everyone. Strangers wanted to sit in the driver seat and have pictures of themselves taken from their cell phones. So, I did the same. It was not my car, but for one moment, I was able to pretend that this beautiful car in it's pink berry tones was mine. And then I heard the click and flash, and now, I only have the picture. It is what we call a Momento.

Days from My Childhood

I mentioned I come from a family of 16; ten boys and six girls, these are the ones that made it to adulthood; my parents actually had 21 in all. I never met the other five children; they passed before I was born. I got to grow up with the best family. I enjoyed watching my brother’s haul hay or drive diesel trucks for my dad’s company, Fred Espinoza and Son’s Trucking Co., with loads of watermelons or peaches onto our ranch, I would climb on the back of those trailers as quick as any barefooted little redheaded country girl could and eat a summer peach. We would eat so many watermelons till our hands and faces were so sticky from all the juice, our fingers would stick together. I can still remember my sisters preparing the evening meal for when the men came home; it was a time of excitement for me because I knew if I stayed close I would get a hot tortilla freshly made and smothered in butter. Ours was a very old fashioned way of dinnertime, because there were many of us, the men would eat first, then the women and children. But we never complained that was just the way things were.

Our homes were always big some even had 2 story guest houses so we could all fit. After I grew up my sister Olga and I were at the swap meet in Phoenix, talking to people we just met and they mentioned they were from Modesto, California, we said, “Us, too”. We told them where we lived and they responded with “Oh!, The house with all the adopted kids?” How we laughed.