The View From Mrs. Sundberg's Window

It's Summer. No Regrets.

June 17, 2008

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Another peaceful haven along the wild way. It's been an adjustment these days with the kids home for the summer and all. Routine has gone down the toilet, and just try to make an assumption about how the day will go. Saturday afternoon alone I was met with — after trying to clean the house in two hours — a lecture from one of the kids. She got a yoga kit (mat, ball, video, book) for her birthday, and now that she's enlightened, she's able to see that my chakras are misaligned and that I seem to be trapped between my heart chakra and my throat chakra. "What is it you're not SAYING, Mother? Let it OUT," she tells me.

During this time, one of the other kids came running in screaming, doors slamming, hollering "Oww!! Ohhh...owieeee." I dropped the laundry on the kitchen floor. She was holding her arm to her chest. Is it broken? I asked. "I think so," she said, and showed me the palm of her hand, under the skin of which a sizable sliver of wood had slid itself, and yes — it was in two, and yes, it DID hurt, but each piece slid out clean. Thank the Lord for tweezers. And popsicles.

Then there was Child Number Three who could not let go of "Eleanor Rigby" for some godforsaken reason and sang it over and over and over again throughout the chakra lecture and the minor surgery and on into the afternoon. Lord help us, I said. How 'bout "God Bless America" or "Blue Moon"? How about humming? Where's that harmonica of yours? But no. Eleanor it was. Long into the night.

All of which may or may not explain why on earth, when my alarm went off Sunday morning at 6:11 AM, I took it upon myself to turn the blessed thing off and put it in my bed stand drawer. Which enabled me nicely to sleep right on through Bible Study. For which I'd prepared a lovely coffee cake and a what-I-thought-was-interesting lesson on courage. I was looking forward to it. So much for that.

I could have rushed like all getout and shown up late with bed head. I could have called the church secretary and told her my car wouldn't start, or that I had a rash and didn't want to spread it all over. I could have wept and made it my reason for emergency therapy on Monday. Nope. It was and is as Mr. Keillor said in his monologue Saturday night: it's summer. No regrets. No looking back. Summer is about freedom, and a person ought to take a few breaths and relax. So I called up the church and told 'em I'd overslept and that the group would be just fine without me there to facilitate things. Ask them where "courage" comes from, I told the secretary, and whether it's real or we make it up. That ought to get 'em going. And it did.

If, on occasion, a neighbor brings on over a bag full of zucchini and you're really at a loss, try this recipe. It's from an adventurous cook who lives down the way, and it'll surprise you. It's quite good, and you can take some fritters over to the neighbor who brought you the zucchini in the first place. Payback time, in a happy way.

Zucchini Fritters

3 zucchini, grated
1 T olive oil
1-2 cloves garlic
1/2 lb spicy breakfast sausage
1/2 c chopped onion
1/2 can water chestnuts, minced
1/2 c bread crumbs
1 egg
1/2 c finely chopped parsley

Saute grated zucchini over medium heat until tender but not mushy,

about 5 or 6 minutes.

Add garlic and sauté until mixture begins to brown.

Set aside.

Brown sausage. Drain fat and add sausage to the zucchini along with

the remaining ingredients. Scoop about 1/2 or so and drop into pan.

Fry until golden crispy. Flip to other side and cook 2-3 minutes until brown.

Keep in warm oven until all fritters are done.

MMM.

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