Ionaruthie B
B is for Book Entry
Another glorious Sunday sponsored by the Lord God. I reveled in it. I played computer games, napped, began studying the book of Isaiah, and managed to create the most luscious Italian goulash I have ever eaten. Too bad, I will most likely never be able to do an encore.
My cooking just happens. I have poor short term memory so usually have no idea of exactly what and how much of anything I have included in the dish. I also never really know how many servings I'm going to end up with because I add this and that to balance taste or change textures, etc. Every now and then all this happenstance produces a gastronomic masterpiece. Such was the case today.
Fortunately, today's work of culinary art was produced in ginormous amounts. We both took double portions; I froze some and refrigerated some for tomorrow.
And my day was like this...
_____________________________________
Ionaruthie
I was named for both my grandmothers. Strong women, they were tireless entrepreneurs who supported their families and were fiercely protective of them. Although they were married, they acted as single parents much of the time because of the absence, either in fact or in effect, of their husbands.
In honor of these iconic women, my parents always used both my names, each adding their own twist. Mama called me Ionaruthie or Squirrel, her pet name for me because, she said, I resembled a squirrel with its cheeks full of acorns. Daddy pronounced my name "Onnaruth" or called me Squirt, a name he quit using as I entered adolescence.
I was a colicky baby and cried long and loud. Daddy would lay me across his tummy and hum in his deep, gravely voice as he rolled from side to side on their bed. Mama would croon and rock me, worried that she was somehow inadequate as a mother.
Unlike most of the doctors who discussed my "wry neck," one orthopedic surgeon suggested a nonsurgical solution. He showed Mama how to make little sandbags to wedge between my head and right shoulder, gradually increasing the size of the bag over time. He also taught her to put me through range of motion exercises for my neck. Mama's faithful and stubborn adherence to this program, even in the face of my vociferous protests, was so successful I had almost total range and strength of motion in my neck from toddlerhood until I sustained injuries later on.
Mama's high blood pressure, kidney disease and heart problems confined her to bed much of the time and often sent her to the hospital during the early years of my life. When he was the sole parent in charge, Daddy would drive across Denver several times a day and night so his sister Faymie could change my diapers, a chore he never had the stomach for.
On one such visit in the late afternoon, Faymie discovered the diaper dry. "You just came so you could eat dinner," she accused good naturedly. "Times are hard, Ed, but I'll be glad to have you share our table. I'll make a list of things you can pick up at the store tomorrow."
The country was just coming out of the Great Depression, the recovery fueled by military needs of Europe at war, Germany having invaded Belgium. The increase of our Gross National Product was beginning to effect the quality of life for working class America. Even so, things were still tight for the Cooper and Snider families.
Max and Faymie's house became a second home for Daddy and me whenever Mama was in the hospital and sometimes when she was too ill to cook at home. Max and Faymie often showed up at our house with a meal. Max worked full time and Daddy worked as often as he could when Mama was home. Only a few times did he leave me with Faymie when Mama was hospitalized. He felt I needed to be with at least one parent at all times.
Cherished by my parents who still marveled at the miracle of my birth, and doted on by friends and relatives, I was ever the center of attention. Daddy was as permissive as Mama and he was jokingly chided for his frequent repetition of "Let 'er have it." I loved the coal bucket and would chew on the ebony chunks, drooling black slime all over the tiny house as I toddled through all three rooms. Mama would try to remove the carbon snacks from my chubby fingered grip while Daddy would yell, "Let 'er have it!" and roar with laughter.
I was blessed with unconditional love all my life, even during times I didn't realize it.
Another glorious Sunday sponsored by the Lord God. I reveled in it. I played computer games, napped, began studying the book of Isaiah, and managed to create the most luscious Italian goulash I have ever eaten. Too bad, I will most likely never be able to do an encore.
My cooking just happens. I have poor short term memory so usually have no idea of exactly what and how much of anything I have included in the dish. I also never really know how many servings I'm going to end up with because I add this and that to balance taste or change textures, etc. Every now and then all this happenstance produces a gastronomic masterpiece. Such was the case today.
Fortunately, today's work of culinary art was produced in ginormous amounts. We both took double portions; I froze some and refrigerated some for tomorrow.
And my day was like this...
- 21:29 The Ravenous Pig is a rare find, dinner was made extra special by enjoying it with Athena & Brian.
- 23:50 LoudTwitter isn't working right for me and won't let me log in. Grrrr!
- 23:54 Growling must work, I got in to LoudTwitter.com and fixed my posting prefs (I hope).
- 08:51 leaving for church now. Smokey morning due to a brush fire east of us.
- 12:14 Unusual & awesome sermon on sex & arriage language of God... very cool approach! Best I ever heard. Go Mike!
_____________________________________
Ionaruthie
I was named for both my grandmothers. Strong women, they were tireless entrepreneurs who supported their families and were fiercely protective of them. Although they were married, they acted as single parents much of the time because of the absence, either in fact or in effect, of their husbands.
In honor of these iconic women, my parents always used both my names, each adding their own twist. Mama called me Ionaruthie or Squirrel, her pet name for me because, she said, I resembled a squirrel with its cheeks full of acorns. Daddy pronounced my name "Onnaruth" or called me Squirt, a name he quit using as I entered adolescence.
I was a colicky baby and cried long and loud. Daddy would lay me across his tummy and hum in his deep, gravely voice as he rolled from side to side on their bed. Mama would croon and rock me, worried that she was somehow inadequate as a mother.
Unlike most of the doctors who discussed my "wry neck," one orthopedic surgeon suggested a nonsurgical solution. He showed Mama how to make little sandbags to wedge between my head and right shoulder, gradually increasing the size of the bag over time. He also taught her to put me through range of motion exercises for my neck. Mama's faithful and stubborn adherence to this program, even in the face of my vociferous protests, was so successful I had almost total range and strength of motion in my neck from toddlerhood until I sustained injuries later on.
Mama's high blood pressure, kidney disease and heart problems confined her to bed much of the time and often sent her to the hospital during the early years of my life. When he was the sole parent in charge, Daddy would drive across Denver several times a day and night so his sister Faymie could change my diapers, a chore he never had the stomach for.
On one such visit in the late afternoon, Faymie discovered the diaper dry. "You just came so you could eat dinner," she accused good naturedly. "Times are hard, Ed, but I'll be glad to have you share our table. I'll make a list of things you can pick up at the store tomorrow."
The country was just coming out of the Great Depression, the recovery fueled by military needs of Europe at war, Germany having invaded Belgium. The increase of our Gross National Product was beginning to effect the quality of life for working class America. Even so, things were still tight for the Cooper and Snider families.
Max and Faymie's house became a second home for Daddy and me whenever Mama was in the hospital and sometimes when she was too ill to cook at home. Max and Faymie often showed up at our house with a meal. Max worked full time and Daddy worked as often as he could when Mama was home. Only a few times did he leave me with Faymie when Mama was hospitalized. He felt I needed to be with at least one parent at all times.
Cherished by my parents who still marveled at the miracle of my birth, and doted on by friends and relatives, I was ever the center of attention. Daddy was as permissive as Mama and he was jokingly chided for his frequent repetition of "Let 'er have it." I loved the coal bucket and would chew on the ebony chunks, drooling black slime all over the tiny house as I toddled through all three rooms. Mama would try to remove the carbon snacks from my chubby fingered grip while Daddy would yell, "Let 'er have it!" and roar with laughter.
I was blessed with unconditional love all my life, even during times I didn't realize it.
© 2006 by Iona Hoeppner
| 4:39 PM
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