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Mrs. Sundberg's Recipe Collection - 12 tried-and-true--one for each month of the year--featuring an introduction and tips from Mrs. Sundberg herself

It's going to be a fine week

October 16, 2006

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I'd spent a good part of the afternoon wandering through the dairy section at the grocery store trying to come up with something to make for my friend Esther, who needs a bit of cheer. I've known her for quite a few years now and though she lives only a few miles to the west I don't see her much. She's quite a bit older than I, and doesn't get out real often except for Bingo Night down at the Town Hall and the late service every Sunday. We have the kind of friendship where we check in now and then, and laugh a bit, and share something we learned lately that might help the other, like when she gave me the book on gardening after I managed to kill off a planting of peas and tomatoes. And like how, last summer, I helped plan her trip to Canada to visit her brother.

The truth of the matter is Esther doesn't have much time left. I don't recall the doctor's exact diagnosis, but Esther told me she hopes to see in the New Year and whatever happens after that doesn't matter much because her life has been one fine trip. So we chat every week or so, and sometimes she calls after the show and asks whether I heard that lovely song about twilight or the monologue about sledding from one county to the next and I say yes and we laugh and I smile for awhile after we hang up and I imagine she does too.

I've always had a rough time knowing what to say when people I care about are suffering or grieving or in pain. What I'm thinking, though, is that since death is a part of it all, it makes sense to treat it that way. Not to make light of it, mind you, but carry on with things because days are precious and you wouldn't want to waste even one of them steeped in melancholy. Oh, no. There are things to be done and misery isn't all that productive. Which is why I decided to drop in on Esther Sunday afternoon and bring with me a still-warm cream cheese coffeecake. I knocked and Esther hallooed and I let myself in. She was sitting in her kitchen near the window drinking green tea and paying bills.

Brought you something, I said, and her eyes got big when I set the coffeecake on the table. "Why, I'll never be able to eat all that," she said, "but I'll sure give it a go if you help." I got two plates and a coffee cup for myself down from the cupboard and she pulled a knife from the drawer near the table and there went Sunday afternoon. The sun was low in the sky when I got up to leave. I hugged Esther tight and she hugged back and it occurred to me that one day soon I'll call and she won't answer, and that will be the way of it. Mortality gives life its own particular beauty. I have Esther now and she has me. The leaves are nearly gone, and snow is in the forecast, and it's going to be a fine week.

Cream Cheese Coffeecake

1 loaf frozen white bread dough, thawed.
Filling: 8 oz. cream cheese, 1/2 c. sugar,
1 egg, 1 tsp. vanilla.

Topping: 6 T butter, 1/2 c. sugar, 3/4 c. flour.

   Cut with a fork until crumbly.


Quick Icing: mix 1 1/2 -2 c. powdered sugar, a bit of milk and

   1 T vanilla until smooth and desired consistency.


Let dough rise until nearly double. Press into a greased pizza pan or 9 X 13 cake pan and poke several times with a fork. Cream cheese and sugar; add egg and vanilla and mix well. Pour and spread over dough. Sprinkle topping evenly over the cream cheese mixture. Let rise ten minutes, and bake at 375 for 25-30 minutes. Drizzle icing over. Serve up for breakfast or brunch. Enjoy!

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