Like wirecutter has admitted he's a holster whore, I must admit I'm a cookbook whore. I hunt them, hoard them, cherish them. I'll pore over one, pulling wild and wacky recipes and unleash them on my unsuspecting family. I have an entire bookcase of them. When my Grandma Doris passed, the only things I wanted were her aprons and her cookbooks. Oh, and the Depression era rose glass pieces she had in her china cabinet. If I come across something unusual in the culinary category, I must possess it. Today, I found this in one of the pic dumps I frequent, and hunted down a used copy in excellent condition. It should be here sometime next week. When I come across something cool, I'll post it here.
See, Mrs. Henry? I do too know how to share. When I wanna.
"I don't think our kids know what an apron is. The principle use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few. It was alsobecause it was easier to wash aprons than dresses and aprons used less material. But along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.
It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.
From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.
When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids..
And when the weather was cold, Grandma wrapped it around her arms.
Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.
Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.
From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.
In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.
When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.
When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.
It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that 'old-time apron' that served so many purposes.
Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool. Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw.
They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron.
I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron - but love... "
If you're forced to pay school taxes, then you should have a voice in what programs are offered. My old high school started phasing out vocational programs in the mid-90s and was very proud of being named one of Texas' premier college prep schools. The problem was, in the following decade, they saw a rapid increase in drop-outs. They were shocked, SHOCKED, and immediately launched a committee to study the issue. One of my classmates, Gary Crabtree owner and master mechanic of Crabtree Automotive, was included as he was considered a successful businessman and graduate. Nothing was mentioned about the fact that he spends his time, under hoods and on creepers, covered in grease fixing the cars of bankers, doctors and lawyers. He was a "businessman".
In their first committee meeting, Gary brought up the issue that not all students were cut out for college, their interests and aptitudes were in the vocational arts which the school district decided to ax due to "budget" and "lack of interest". He pointed out that forcing a teenager who wanted to work on HVAC unit to study Shakespeare and calculus was like making a fish climb a tree because that's evolution. Around 2009, vocational programs started making a comeback in the local schools. Programs were designed in partnership with local community college to offer dual enrollment for not only academic classes, but also vocational programs. Now you can graduate high school with most of the work done for a CNA, paramedic/EMT, plumber's apprentice, automotive, diesel, etc. Enrollment and matriculation is back up. Success is about more than GPAs and how many students get accepted to tier 1 colleges. It's about preparing ALL students for life, regardless of the path they choose.
I have always said love the body God gave you. I haven't always done it. This is something I'll work on this year. I've yet to see that many perfect male specimens, but all men seem to be very comfortable in their own skin, regardless of no ass, love handles, pot bellies, sunken chests, chicken legs, and rapidly receding hairlines. I think that's great. A confident man is a sexy man. And a confident woman is a sexy woman, but they're much harder to come by. I see these less than perfect men verbally sneering at women they deem less than perfect. Tearing them down, playing the "Pass or Hit game", reducing to meat a woman they know nothing about. Are you naturally skinny? Can't gain weight no matter what you eat? God bless you, love your skinny body, be good to yourself. Are you starving yourself trying to fit a "perfect" image, afraid of your natural curves because some Bozo might call you fat? Stop it, right now. Are you packing on pounds trying to drown pain, sorrow, fear? Deal with a trauma that's left you feeling scared to be seen? Please stop punishing yourself, find a way to deal with the emotions and be healthy, whatever is right for your body. Are you naturally large and feeling inadequate? Yep, me too. At my healthiest, I was 150 pounds of muscle, butt and boobs. Hearty peasant stock. I wanted nothing more than to be a dancer, but dancers aren't 5'8" and built like a brick shithouse. For years, I exercised to excess and starved myself, keeping to a strict 1000 calorie a day diet. I was 112 pounds and my period was screwed up. I had bone density issues, and my hair was coming out in clumps. When I quit dancing, I felt like a failure and packed on 60 pounds in a year. I was ridiculed, teased and made to feel ugly. I had a choice, hide behind my weight using it to keep people at bay, or find a healthy weight. I was happy at 150, healthy and active. And then I got my first boyfriend, at 20. He constantly hounded me to lose weight, wanted me to get down to 125. Every bite I took in his presence was scrutinized and if he didn't like it, he tried to humiliate me. It worked. I managed to get down to 130 before he dumped me for someone he'd been sleeping with for the last six months of our relationship. I went back to binging and purging, craving food and being ashamed and afraid of gaining weight. This went on for a few years. After marriage and kids, I ballooned. 235 at my heaviest. Depressed, angry, afraid, every negative emotion I had, I ate. It's been a very long road. At almost 50, I'm just starting back on the road to health. I'm realistic. I'm a middle aged mother of two with serious weight issues. I would be thrilled to get down to Ashley's 170 pounds. Yes, it's 20 pounds heavier than my ideal 150 and in the "fat" range for some men, but it's a more attainable goal. And a whole lot healthier than my current 220. I will achieve this goal before my 50th birthday. So, when you see a woman, don't look at her stick figure and say "Real women have curves," or look at her slightly plump curves and say "Thin is beautiful and you're too fat to be pretty." See a woman, worthy of love and respect, and realize she's fighting wars over her body that you, as men, will never know.