Writing Prompt #2, or why Texans love Blue Bell Ice Cream.
Sam opened his journal, which I’m now realizing must have been for summer school his freshman year, not high school English, given the date, by describing himself.
“My name is Samuel Donald Wolfe. I am 14 years old. So far my hobbies turn up to be games. I happen to like apples and bananas. My brother is 11 years old. My sister is 8 years old. My mother is 41 years old. She now works in Gainesville. My father is 45 years old He mows lawns, plays the tuba in concerts, and teaches in Arlington. I now have three dogs. I have two black dogs and one brown one.”
Not sure why he has me working in Gainesville. I never did.
Below is the result of his second writing prompt:
My favorite ice cream is Vanilla, Peppermint, White Chocolate Almond, Orange and Strawberry Sherbet with Starburst pieces. There will probably be a new flavor ice cream. I would try to invent grape ice cream or blackberry ice cream. — June 12, 2002
Writing prompts
I am cleaning out a closet this week. I kid myself. This closet will take more than a week to comb through. It is full of material meant to be the foundation for future writings.
I stumbled across some of Sam’s things I kept, just in case there was another book to follow See Sam Run. In high school English, Sam had writing prompts, too. I will be rolling these out over the next days and weeks.
As it customary with Sam’s writing, no editing is required.
If I were a cow, I would wake up before sun up. I would also take a day off to get fed. My favorite dairy product is, of course, fresh milk. I would also have Parmesan cheese as a second favorite dairy product. If I were a cow, I wouldn’t have to worry about homework. – June 11, 2002
Where running meets writing
It used to be that I ran with RunnerSusan.
It was easy. We were neighbors. Not in the Yankee way, (which we both are, by the way), living next door or across the street from each other, but in the Texas way, where we could be like the two trains in a story problem with 4th grade math. If two runners leave the house at the same time, and one heads west on Frenchtown Road and the other heads east, where and what time will they meet?
And then we’d keep running for an hour.
She moved to a new place, with a peach tree and a patio. It would take more than an hour to meet, so now I race alone.
It’s ok.
One day soon, we’ll figure out how to start the way we started last summer, trail running. Trail running is the best, anyways. If we get going good enough, we might race together this fall, through trails in the woods in East Texas, or up around Lake Ray Roberts.
I’d love to run the Palo Duro Canyon race in October, but a professional conference sneaked onto the calendar that weekend.
Maybe next year.
By the way, fellow Mayborn School of Journalism pals Valerie Gordon Garcia and Sarah Perry joined team-in-training.
We care about blood cancers in the Wolfe house.
A good friend is living with it.
And so is my dad.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
Overheard in the Wolfe House #181
Peggy: Hey, Sam, why don’t you help out here and dry some silverware? I don’t have room for one more piece in the rack.
Sam: Ok.
(sometime later) I don’t have to do all. I can just do enough that you have more room.
Peggy: Well, that’s true. But if you want to do the minimum, then just dry the big cooking and serving spoons. You’ll be done after just two or three pieces, then.
Sam: I’m afraid I’m just picking random pieces of silverware.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #180
Peggy: (whistling Orinoco Flow)
Sam (in a stage whisper): Oh, mom whistles off-key.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #179
Sam (after an upsetting morning): And don’t put that as an Overheard.
Peggy: I won’t.
Horse bling
Sam isn’t a belt-buckle-wearing kind of guy. When he’d come home from Chisholm Challenge with another trophy buckle, usually from being the best in English equitation, we’d look at it lovingly for a minute. The organizers of Chisholm Challenge order the trophy buckles each year from the silversmith in Placerville, Calif. That was always fun to see, too. I knew the shop since I worked for the El Dorado Arts Council for three years, back when Sam was an infant and toddler.
But then, we’d just put the buckle back in the velveteen box and shove it in the dining room cabinet. (Lots of room in there. We don’t have many fancy dishes.) After a few years, I felt bad. He worked hard for those buckles and he didn’t get one every year for every event. (Unlike Special Olympics medals and ribbons, but I digress.)
I figured it was time for a display. I asked Dad, and the next time we were talking on Skype, he showed me what he’d built. I brought it home two weeks ago and showed it to Sam.
He’s not really a belt-buckle-arranging kind of guy, either. I pulled them out of the box, marveled at the craftsmanship and then arranged them.
I hope he’s a belt-buckle-noticing kind of guy.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #179
Sam: Oh, Gus! You’re in the office now? I can’t stand it if you’re gonna stink up the office now!
Paige: (from the other room) Then wash him!
Sam: I can’t do that. It doesn’t make sense to wash him when he’s cutting the cheese.
Okra pickles
If rhubarb is Northern, okra is Southern. Especially okra pickles. I like cooking on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line.
This recipe comes from an old Martha Stewart Living show, and my instructions assume you know canning basics. If you don’t, read more about here. Here’s a hint from a mistake I made one year falling for that everything-is-big-in-Texas way. Don’t use elephant garlic. It turns blue in the pickling salts.
Pickled Okra
2 lbs. tender okra
1 quart white vinegar
6 T. kosher salt
16 garlic cloves, peeled
8 red jalapeños, (opt.)
8 fresh dill heads
1/2 c. yellow mustard seeds
Wash okra and trim stems, leaving caps.
Prepare 8 canning jars and lids in boiling water bath, according to manufacturer’s instructions. Meanwhile, bring vinegar and salt to a boil with 3 cups of water.
Pull jars from water bath, drop in dill head, jalapeño, a pair of garlic cloves and 1 T. mustard seeds to each jar. Pack okra in tightly, pour over hot liquid, making sure okra is covered and there is about 1/2-inch head space at the top of the jar. Release any bubbles with a clean wooden skewer.
Wipe rims, screw on tops, and process for 10 minutes. Cool for 24 hours before storing. Let mellow for two months before opening. Keep refrigerated after opening.
Rhubarb-Strawberry Crumble
This is based on a recipe from The Gourmet Cookbook, the first edition (2004) of which I scored on Amazon for $12 because of some kind of production error that made the headings unreadable for people with certain kinds of vision impairments. I hope I never develop that impairment as I age. I adore this cookbook.
Filling:
2 lbs. strawberries, hulled and halved
1 lb. rhubarb, sliced 1/2-inch thick chunks
1 c. sugar
3 T. cornstarch
1 T. lime juice
1/8 tsp. salt
Topping:
1 1/4 c. rolled oats
3/4 c. flour
3/4 c. brown sugar, packed
1/4 tsp. salt
12 T. unsalted butter, cut into cubes
Preheat the oven to 425 F. Stir the filling ingredients in a large bowl and then pour into a 13-inch baking dish. (I use my lasagna pan.) Stir all the topping ingredients, except the butter in another bowl and then crumble in the butter with your fingers. Spread it evenly over the top, bake for 45-50 minutes until the topping is nicely browned and the fruit is bubbling. Serve warm or at room temperature.