Ginger Snapped

Sometimes you just have to scrub. Pull out the rubber gloves, the cleanser, and scrub your heart out. It feels good, this scrubbing. Too much time has passed since the last scrubbing because you've been occupied with parties, wrapping, packing, traveling, more traveling, snow, not to mention whale costumes with laser eyes. The scrubbing got set aside for sanity's sake. But the whale costume is done, the parties are over (at least until Groundhog Day), the wrapping has been disposed of, the packing has been unpacked, the laundry done and folded, and the wanderlust has been satisfied for quite some time. Stuff has been put away, and now it's time for scrubbing. Some muscle and some cleanser and everything shines once more. Some sweeping, some mopping, some vacuuming. Home.

On Tuesday, the snow turned to rain, and the rain brought fog. The gingerbread boys went back to school. The youngest participated in an Ellis Island immigration simulation. The children dressed up in historical costumes, chose a name and a country, and with a lucky draw ended up in first or second class accommodations. The rest were shuttled like cattle into steerage. The outline of a boat was taped off on the gymnasium floor. The children crowded together into the "ship," and one of the teachers read letters from passengers until they reached Ellis Island, heralded by the principal, who was dressed as Lady Liberty. After eating a snack of bananas, which is what immigrants at Ellis Island were given, they were sent to processing for medical, legal, and psychological questioning. You were assigned to be a Special Inquirer, asking the children questions such as, "Are you married? Do you have any money?" At the end, the children performed choreography to "Com...

You are haunted by this enormous bad thing. Mercifully, you are given the gift of a snow day, one more day to keep the gingerbread boys home, away from wagging mouths that might take their innocence. You know you can't protect them forever, but from this, you must at least try. It is too horrific for adults to process, let alone the twelve-and-under crowd. Oh, they know something happened, but they are ignorant of the details. You pray they remain so. You yourself have had nightmares about it; your usual nightmares never connect to reality, but spring forth the strange brainchild of a cross between a post-apocolyptic read and a snack that brings on unimaginable weirdness. But this. This is pain. This is grieving. This is scraping the edges of a possibility too awful to contemplate. Even in your deep faith and knowledge of an eternal life and a loving Father in Heaven, you are stunned by this. Caught in the abyss between nightmares and sleeplessness. Caught in the web of soc...

I am thankful for warm slippers, for the feet within them that walk and run and dance. I am thankful for toes that give balance. I am thankful for nail polish, and even more thankful for nail polish remover. I am thankful for knees that bend and for hips that hold me together. I am thankful for bellies and babies and babies' bellies. I am thankful for my gingerbread boys who were once within my belly. I am thankful for lungs that breathe in and out and the air that fills them. I am thankful for a heart that beats, but even more thankful for a heart that feels. I am thankful for my dominant left hand and the wedding ring it wears, and still more thankful for the man who placed the ring there and who reminds me every day how he loves me. I am thankful for a back and shoulders and arms and wrists and fingers. I am thankful for ears that hear and eyes that see. I am thankful for a nose and teeth and taste buds. I am thankful for cinnamon and cilantro and cumin and ca...

Sometimes, the best thing about autumn in New England is the promise of what's to come: a roaring fire in the fireplace, a blanket around my shoulders, a good book, and a cup of something warm and sweet. There might be rain outside or grey clouds. The leaves might be falling. But sometime in the future, the world will be covered in white snow and crystal ice, with sledding and ice skating under brilliant blue skies. When the cold has permeated my soul, it'll be time for sugaring, then after that the leaves will unfurl again. They will green and grow providing shade and shelter until the time comes for them to turn yellow and orange and red. And when that time comes, I shall be sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket with a good book and a fire roaring in the fireplace.

#3 Turkeys. On my way to the airport last week, I had to stop my car as a rafter of turkeys crossed the road. Did you know that "rafter" is the correct name for a group of turkeys? They could also be called a gang, but we have no gangs around here. There were at least ten of them. So why did the turkey cross the road? 10 points to whomever gives the correct answer.

#2 Farm Stands. I have a favorite farm stand that sells corn almost exclusively, and for good reason. It's the best corn around these parts. This farmer knows his corn. But most impressive? He knows how to grow corn in rocky New Hampshire soil. It's the perfect addition to quesadillas, a traditional New England food. Really. Didn't you know the pilgrims ate quesadillas when they left the Mayflower? No? Ok, I'm kidding, but it does go well with lobster rolls, or as we like to call them, "lobstah rolls." It's the perfect base for corn chowder (chowdah), or corn bread, or corn waffles. Just down about a mile from him, is the apple orchard, where a bushel of seconds (good for making apple butter) is only $8. New England thriftiness goes hand in hand with farm stands. Thrifty or not, we eat well.