I am sure my training in my home was what makes me clean house, make the bed daily, and try to instill this in our son, who is old enough now to choose life-like he wants to live it. If he doesn’t make the bed, then I change the sheets, and make it for him. I haven’t had to do this for a long time. He now sleeps in a sleeping bag on top of his bed. This way we don’t have to bother with the work of making the bed. It is made, and the sleeping bag is clean.
I titled this post about addictions. You need to understand that I have a huge sweet tooth that I was born with. I still struggle with it, but less when I govern it. I ate pie Sunday, but I usually don’t. This time it was home-made custard pie, and it has sugar in it. I tried to stay away from sweets for the rest of the day. If you take one piece of pie, and eat it, surely you are not eating the result of 3/4 cup of sugar in the pie. Yet it is sweet, and the addiction I have is real.
Some people are addicted to alcohol, and to drugs. I have written about this once today. I am forever going to be struggling with the sweets. That is why I don’t eat everything that is offered for dessert on Sunday after church, and on Wednesday night with the meals I cook. My son loves to make sweets, and he is wonderful with finding a new recipe, and making it work. He works on the same recipe until he perfects, and masters it. Some are very difficult, but he seems to understand what to do. He has gone beyond me.
I learned from a woman who had a gift of making anything she ever wanted to make for her family. She was a country cook, and she learned from someone else. I believe her pies were wonderful, and before Pillsbury, she made her own crusts. I learned to make pie because I helped her make supper, and lunches for Ed, and Pappy when they came in from finishing concrete. Ed is a fourth, generation concrete finisher who was called to preach. We went to his home state, and lived across the street from his mother and dad. We ate many times with the family, and I helped her when I could. It was enough to learn many things I didn’t know about cooking, including how to make a not so thick cup of coffee. Smile.
I just reread this because I found a grammatical error. Smile. I should become more careful. Life is short. Write until you drop, and then retire, and write again. This is what I do. I write, leave them, and then come back to write again. I check my blog several times, and I pamper, baby it, and feed it. I wasn’t so verbose in high school, and college. I worked hard for good grades. At times I didn’t work hard enough. The disappointment was met with, “Get in there and study harder. You can do better.” I did. I never lost respect for those who were shorter, or taller.