memoir

Homemade Banana Pudding

  • 2 ⅔ cups white sugar
  • 1 ⅓ cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 12 large eggs, beaten
  • 8 cups milk
  • 8 tablespoons butter, softened
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • 8 -10 bananas, peeled and sliced
  • 2 (12 ounce) package vanilla wafer cookies

Whipped Cream for topping

Layer a large dish with alternating layers of vanilla wafers and thinly sliced bananas.

Whip twelve eggs till well beaten.

Add to all other ingredients except vanilla to large kettle and mix well. Cook on low to medium heat stirring CONSTANTLY to avoid sticking. Frequently scrape bottom of pan to avoid scorching till you bring to full boil. When it starts to thicken, remove from heat and whip in vanilla. Pour pudding mixture over cookie and banana layers. Chill and garnish with whipped cream.

Alternative old-fashioned meringue topping: Separate egg whites and yellows. Use yellows in pudding. Whip whites till stiff. Whip in 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar and 1/2 cup granulated sugar. Should form stiff peaks when layered on pudding. Toast under broiler 1-2 minutes watching constantly to brown. Do not walk away. It will burn! Chill

One of my aunts used to make a huge banana pudding in a dishpan when we had a family gathering. I can’t image what her recipe was. One of Bud’s cousins pulled a funny when they hosted a meal at their home. His wife put him in charge of desserts. He asked every woman in the crowd to bring banana pudding. We had plenty!

Banana Pudding Bowl Blasphemy

imageSee this innocuous-looking dish.  It doesn’t look like it could break up a marriage, but you just wait. Bud chose this dish when he and his sisters divided his mother’s belongings shortly after her death.  He brought it home, showed it to me, and told it was what she’d always made banana pudding in.  Not realizing the significance of that statement, I callously baked a chicken in it less than a week later..  He came in, was delighted to see “The Banana Pudding Bowl” sitting on the stove.  He attempted to lift the lid to admire the pudding and burned his fingers.  I never heard such howling and deprecations before or since. I came to understand that bowl was only for banana pudding

The Bear, the Princess, and the Hearing Aid

Papa Bear doted on his only daughter, Princess Bear, who was not only beautiful, but sweet, gentle, and wise.  He adored her, trying hard to give her all she needed for a good life.  He rocked her, ran behind her on her bicycle to catch her, lest she fall, dried her tears, and brushed her long, curly fur, never tugging at tangles.  He tucked her in at night, dreading the day she’d leave his cave.

One day, his lovely Princess Bear ventured out into the wood.  Young bears started to coming to pay court to her.  Papa Bear asked, “Please bring your friends home to meet me.”  Of course, she didn’t really care for the idea, but since she loved Papa Bear, and he was so kind, she did as he asked.

One evening, she brought yet another young bear to the cave to meet Papa Bear.  “Pleased to meet you, Sir.  I’ll have her home by eleven.”  He said in an extraordinarily nicey, nice bear voice.

“Grrrrr.”  said Papa Bear.  “I’ll be waiting for you at nine-thirty.” They were home at nine-twenty eight.

“I didn’t really like him,” said the Princess Bear the next morning.  “Something about him was a unbearable.”

“Oh, well,” said Papa Bear.  “Sometimes that just happens.”

In a few minutes, there was a knock at the cave door.  “I don’t want to see you again.  Don’t call on me anymore.”  Princess Bear closed the door.

Seconds later, a second knock sounded.  “I told you.  I don’t want to see you again!”  Papa Bear was right behind his little Princess, not the sound of any of it.

He asked her, “Is that young bear bothering you?  At her nod, he stepped from behind her, speaking to the pushy young bear, quite gruffly.  “Princess Bear doesn’t ever want to see you or speak to you again.  Now, if you’re having trouble understanding that, I’ll be happy to meet you in the woods and explain it!”

The young bear understood Papa Bear perfectly.   He had just needed a hearing aid.

The Dead Pony, the Warped Kid, and the World’s Most Horrible Mother

horse_puns_aglore____by_alexandrabirchmoreThe phone rang one day.  Without introduction, I heard the familiar, deep voice of one of my son’s friends.  “Miss Linda, is that story about the pony true?”

“Yep!”  The last thing I heard was gales of laughter as I hung up.

If you are the sensitive type, skip this story.

Many years ago when my son was young, we were hauling a load of tree trimmings to the landfill.  As my husband backed the truck up to unload, I spotted a dead pony, bloated with all four legs stuck up in the air.  Without thinking, I said, “Hey, John.  Do you want a pony?”

Of course he said, “Yes!”

“Well, there’s one right over there!”

“Wahhh!!!!!”

I swear it was not intentional.  Sometimes I think there is a disconnect between my brain and my mouth!

This is for you, Lee Perkins

Bears Just Ain’t That Bad

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Growing up way,way in the country the last place bordering a game reserve, the nearest neighbor a mile away, I was always aware we didn’t live in the sticks, but I hoped to someday. The woods were full of wild pigs, deer, coyote, foxes, alligators, a few black bear, snakes, birds, and a plethora of other wild creatures.  It wasn’t a great idea to go stumbling around in the dark out there, especially without knee-high boots, a pistol, and a light.  

It was not uncommon for hunters to come walking up to our place, any time of the day or night, reporting being stuck in the deeply rutted roads and off-road areas of the reserve, muddy, fatigued, and bedraggled, desperate for help in getting out of a mud hole. Daddy or my brother sometimes cranked the tractor,  bounced them back to their disaster, and pulled them out.  It could take quite a while and was a lot of work.  More often than not, if they had no cash, they left personal property to be redeemed when they came back with cash.

One morning about daylight, visitors of a different type came walking up, a teenage couple who’d gone parking and gotten stuck.  The girl explained, they’d spent the night in the car, afraid to walk out, thinking a bear might get them.

I was amazed.  Her father must have been nothing like mine. There wasn’t a bear big or bad enough to warrant getting caught spending the night in a parked car with a boy.  I’d have faced a dozen bears rather than Daddy with a story like that!

Humorous Tales from Nurses: A Lighthearted Look at Healthcare

St. Peter and the Three Nurses

Three nurses died and went to heaven, where they were met at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter.

To the first, he asked, “What did you do on Earth and why should you go to heaven?” “I was a nurse in an inner-city hospital,” she replied. “I worked to bring healing and peace to the poor suffering city children.” “Very noble,” said St. Peter. “You may enter.” And in through the gates, she went.

To the next, he asked the same question: “So what did you do on Earth?” “I was a nurse at a missionary hospital in Africa,” she replied. “For many years, I worked with a skeleton crew of doctors and nurses who tried to reach out to as many peoples and tribes with a hand of healing and with a message of God’s love.” “How touching,” said St. Peter. “You too may enter.” And in she went.

He then came to the last nurse, to whom he asked, “So, what did you do back on Earth?” After some hesitation, she explained, “I was just a nurse at an HMO.” St. Peter pondered this for a moment, and then said, “Okay, you may enter also.”

“Whew!” said the nurse. “For a moment there, I thought you weren’t going to let me in.”

“Oh, you can come in,” said St. Peter, “but you can only stay for three days!”

Rectal Thermometer

A nurse walks into a bank totally exhaustedafter an 18-hour shift. She grabs a deposit slip, pulls a rectal thermometer out of her purse, and tries to write with it. When she realizes her mistake, she looks at the flabbergasted teller and, without missing a beat, says, “Well, that’s great…some asshole’s got my pen!”

Speaking of Rectal Thermometers…

Q: What’s the difference between an oral thermometer and a rectal thermometer?
A: The taste.

Ten Quarters

I had to take my son to the hospital after he swallowed ten quarters. He was rushed to surgery. After half an hour I saw a nurse so I asked her how he was. She said, “There’s no change yet.”

Three Wishes

A nursing assistant, a floor nurse and a charge nurse from a small nursing home were taking a lunch break in the break room. In walks, a lady dressed in silk scarves and wearing large polished-stone jewelry. “I am Gina the Great,” stated the lady. “I am so pleased with the way you have taken care of my aunt that I will now grant the next three wishes!” With a wave of her hand and a puff of smoke, the room was filled with flowers, fruit, and bottles of drink, proving that she did have the power to grant wishes before any of the nurses could think otherwise.

The nurses quickly argued among themselves as to which one would ask for the first wish. Speaking up, the nursing assistant wished first. “I wish I were on a tropical island beach, with single, well-built men feeding me fruit and tending to my every need.” With a puff of smoke, the nursing assistant was gone.

The floor nurse went next. “I wish I were rich and retired, and spending my days in my own warm cabin at a ski resort with well-groomed men feeding me cocoa and doughnuts.” With a puff of smoke, she too was gone.

“Now, what is the last wish?” asked the lady.

The charge nurse said, “I want those two ambitious nurses back on the floor at the end of the lunch break!”

“WTH!”

Q: Did you hear about the nurse who died and went straight to hell?

A: It took her two weeks to realize that she wasn’t at work anymore!

Prignant

Repost of an earlier post:

That was weird.  I heard tiptoeing and a door quietly locking.  I tiptoed to my parent’s room and found their door locked!  Their door was never even shut except around Christmas.  Mother must have gotten scared and locked it.   Assuming the worst, I pounded and screeched, “Mama!  Mama!  Your door’s locked. Help!  I can’t get in!!!” Continue reading →

Twenty-Seven Biscuits

image imageMother made twenty-seven biscuits for breakfast most mornings. The number wasn’t intentional; that was just how it worked out.   Her recipe wasn’t measured, just experience.  She started out by hollowing out a hole in the flour in her big biscuit-making bowl into which she plopped out shortening scooped by hand straight from the eight pound can and poured in an indeterminate pool of fresh cow milk.  Bravely plunging her right hand in, she squished the glob of shortening through her fingers, working it round till it gathered just enough flour.  She worked the dough carefully, never using all the flour,  thereby letting the gooey mixture adhere to the bottom of the bowl. I thought that looked horrible and never mastered the age-old biscuit making technique that had probably come to her through many generations.

Once she was satisfied with her mix, she tossed it a time or two to coat with flour, and started pinching off biscuits, which she gave a quick roll or two in her hands before placing smooth side up on her biscuit pan. Finally, she buttered the top of each so they’d brown nicely and popped them in the hot oven.  About twenty minutes later, biscuits!  She always ended up with twenty-seven, though she never measured.  They were wonderful.  The flour-filled biscuit-bowl was covered and went back into the cabinet till the next baking, which would be supper if she didn’t make cornbread.
I am a biscuit-making coward.  I measure and mix my ingredients in a bowl, dust them with a handful of flour, then pinch them off and roll them out in my hands.  I spray them with cooking spray rather than dipping a spoon in melted butter to butter the tops, but they are still pretty good. 

Age-Old Biscuit Recipe 

(Can be easily doubled or tripled)

Preheat oven to 420 degrees

2 ½ cups self-rising flour (For plain, add 1 ½ teaspoon baking powder and ¼ teaspoon salt PER cup)

½ cup vegetable shortening or softened butter

¾ cup milk (I prefer undiluted fat-free evaporated canned milk.  Note:  this is not the sweetened condensed kind that goes in desserts)

Cooking spray

Mix 2 ¼ cups self-rising flour with shortening or butter.  Stir in up to ¾ cups milk to make gooey, not drippy dough.  Should be about the consistency of mashed potatoes.  Use remaining ¼ cup to dust top of dough, turn dust again.  Pinch out small handful, about ½ cup and roll a time or two in your floured palms.  Turn best side up on greased baking pan.  Spray tops with vegetable or butter spray to enhance browning.  Bake at 450 for 12-15 minutes on center rack. Done when tops are starting to brown nicely and browning can be seen around edges.  Should yield 8-10 biscuits.

These can be rolled out on lightly floured surface and cut with a biscuit cutter if you prefer.  Don’t waste leftover dough.  Roll into strips, butter and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and bake for five minutes.  Wonderful treat.  I have made entire batch into cinnamon sugar strips for a treat.  Watch carefully to keep from burning.

If you can stand the health risk, put your bacon in on a rack on a cookie sheet to bake on at the same time as your biscuits.  It will all come out perfect at the same time.

If you have leftovers reheat in microwave or slice in half, butter, and toast under broiler.

The previous part of the story was the easy part.  We lived on a farm.  There were five of us children ranging from thirteen to newborn.  From my earliest memories, Mother had to be up by five-thirty to get the biscuits in.  The cow would be bawling to be milked by six.  Daddy never milked.  He said the Bible said a man couldn’t take what he couldn’t give.  He never quoted the chapter and verse, but he knew it was in there.  The Bible said a lot of stuff that worked to suit him, but that’s a story for another day.

Anyway, Mother had to milk at six and get back in the house to have breakfast on the table and get things moving before the babies got up and the big kids got on the schoolbus.

That must have been so hard for Mother having to be up and out so early.  I was grown, caring for my family before I understood how hard.

 

 

Love at First Sight

Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?

It was true love when I found this little guy under the Christmas tree. He was my constant companion. He was part of every game, sat on the chair with me while I ate, and slept with me. I even sneaked him into the bath with me, a hard lesson since it took him a couple of days to dry on the clothes line.

He tragically went missing one day. My search was futile. I moved on. Long afterwards, I found his tattered remains in the yard where the dogs had destroyed him. My heart broke all over.