The Month of September

We have a large and complicated family, and therefore, many dates on the calendar to celebrate.  His, Mine, Ours, Grandchildren, Anniversaries, etc.

September is one of the fuller months in our year.

After the most recent wedding, there are now three wedding anniversaries in September---mine and Gerry's, and two of our daughters, V and P.  (I'll just refer to them by letter, as I do not have permission to discuss them on my blog.)

There are also two birthdays.  Two daughters share the 16th  of September for their birthdays.   P was born first, and when I was pregnant,  I remember telling her that I would try very very hard not to have the baby on her birthday. She was turning 10 years old.

Birth on the 16th would not have happened, except it was such a long labor.  Technically, it should have happened on the 15th, because labor started that morning.  V was actually due on the 14th.   But alas, things don't always go as planned, and indeed, V was born on P's birthday, (the following afternoon).   I think that now they have resolved their shared birthday issues and find it,  if not thrilling,  at least interesting.

I do vividly remember standing on a chair and tying streamers from the kitchen light fixture for P's birthday before going to the hospital. I also hung our Happy Birthday banner.   On the way home from the hospital Gerry bought P an ice cream birthday cake.

Families are complex entities.  And life itself is unpredictable.  Anything can happen at any time. And does.

We have refused to let our anniversary be usurped by sadness and loss, even though it happened on the eleventh day of the month of September.

Perfect Biscuits

For some reason,  I have always wanted to be able to make perfect biscuits.  I'm not really sure why that is.   Perhaps it goes back to a story my mother told about the first time she ever made biscuits when she was young.  They did not turn out well, and the way the story goes,  her brothers took them outside and played baseball with them.  Maybe that planted the seed about making lovely biscuits in my mind and hopes.  

I do know that as an adult cooking for her family,  biscuits were not something that my mother cooked, as far as I can remember.   Yeast rolls, yes.  Cornbread, yes.  Just not biscuits.

I've tried quite a few times in recent years.  I've heard and read that you should not overwork your dough because it makes it tough.

Today,  I watched a video on Pinterest from Southern Living which gave clear step by step how-to directions on making beautiful biscuits.   What I discovered is that I have been under working my dough.   You do have to roll it out and fold it over in order to get those lovely layers.

I even went to the store to buy the specific brand of flour that was recommended.  There was no such brand in my stores.  I suspect that  the brand suggested it is a  regional, southern brand.

The other "secret" was in using a box grater to grate the butter, making sure it started out frozen.

I was very very happy with the finished product.   They are the fluffiest, most golden brown and delicious biscuits I have ever made.   I think my mother would be impressed!

I entertained myself today, on a dark and rainy and gray day, with cooking.   Cooking is an artistic and creative activity.

Cilla's Day

The weekend was filled with celebrations of our daughter Cilla and Ian's wedding!  What a joyous event it was!  I've never seen so much joy contained all in one place!   That came not only from the bride and groom, but also from long time friends of the bride and groom,  their families and siblings and their families,  the parents and grandparents,  the children and babies and dogs and all the guests.

This was not the kind of wedding that usually happens these days.  It was an informal, outside, do-it-yourself affair.   The ceremony took place at the upper park, by the waterfall.   Come to think of it,  the outside and rocks and waterfall and nature was the overall theme of the wedding and reception.  The reception took place at the lower park in the Reception Hall, a beautiful facility.

Cilla did all the decorating herself, and also made all of the food!  I don't know how she did so many things.  It was marvelous.  She and her friends and loved ones decorated the upper park, where the ceremony took place, as well as the reception hall.  

It was definitely a family affair.   Gerry walked the bride down the aisle.  I officiated.  Three nieces were flower girls.  Papa Joe did a reading.  Ian's Dad did a toast.  Daughter V acted as the event photographer and took 400+ of the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen.

 What is posted here is a waterfall wedding cake, made by the bride herself, completely edible,  with fog coming off the stream!     A waterfall comes out of the center of the cake.   There is even a bridge over the waterfall, just below the upper layer.   After the ceremony, those who wished to hiked the trail from the upper park to the lower for the reception.   Lots of pictures were taken on the bridge.

This is one impressive and original cake.  

The bride and groom are also originals!  

Playing Doubles

It is only recently that Gerry and I have played more seriously as doubles partners   (meaning playing against opponents other than daughter and son-in-law).   For most of our tennis playing years, we played against one another across the net.

This year,  Gerry's men's group  needed a sub, and I filled in.  Somehow, I managed to get to be a regular in that group.  Different members travel and so different players come in and out of the group over time.

Right now, Suzie is the one who is subbing for a regular player who is out of town for a few weeks.  It is fun to play against Suzie.  For one thing,  she has passionate feelings about everything, and expresses them.  "I hated that game."  "I loved that game."

Experiencing Suzie's emotional reactions has caused me to reflect on why it is that I am so different.  It is an interesting phenomena.   I not only do not display very much emotional response to play,  I also do not feel much.  That is not to say that I am not competitive.  I am,  fiercely, and certainly want to win.

Upon reflecting, I figured this out.   For the first twenty years of my tennis playing life,  I played against Gerry.  I do remember times of being so frustrated and angry I wanted to scream and throw darts at him and spit fire. Then eventually,  for the sake of our marriage,  I learned not to really care. I left my emotions at home.   I  just went out to hit balls.   Over time,  I have gotten to the point of winning more and more of our games.  Now we do it for the exercise and for the love of the game.  And as it has turned out, we are a formidable team, even when we play against our twenty-something kids.

When we play tennis,  I feel like a real athlete, which is not something I have never felt before.  And I do love that feeling.    I hope we will be able to enjoy this sport for a long time to come!