The Toppletan

Aunts who don't have children spend an inordinate amount of energy and time plotting ways to spoil their nieces and nephews.  That was me for a lot of years -- I've got 24 nieces and nephews, almost all of whom were born prior to my Gem.  (Now I've got 14 great-nieces and -nephews too!)  I have one other sister (Jay) who was a similarly late starter.  (We're not the youngest, not even close.)

Jay and I loved and spoiled our nieces and nephews to the fullest extent permitted by their parents.  We took the girls to tea at fancy hotels, all the kids to the zoo and the park, for rides on the street car, to movies, baked with them, read with them, and generally loved them.  They could sleep over and destroy my house turning the living room into a fort with every pillow they could find.  My husband would just shake his head and smile.  He was powerless to resist.  (You know he loved it.)

For birthdays and Christmas, Jay and I would scour the stores to find just exactly that one gift that would speak to each child.  ND was making his 4th birthday.  Jay and I were leaving Macy's and she picked up a little striped tee shirt on the way out.  It was an afterthought, really; a cheap sale item.  

ND blew out his candles, opened that box, and it was love.  He pronounced it "the Toppletan" (?who knows?) and wore it constantly.  If it was dirty, he would dig it out of the hamper.  His mother (our sister) would complain about the Toppletan -- ND wouldn't take it off!  For Jay and me, the Toppletan came to mean the gold standard in gifts.  I love to make or find exactly the thing that will speak to the person's heart, that will be just what is needed to make him or her feel special.  When I shop, I am in search of the Toppletan.

Teachers usually get presents several times a year.  When I taught full time, I used to love the special handmade cards and pictures I got for various holidays, my birthday, and teacher appreciation day.  My husband used to love the bath salts, which I would just hand straight over to him when I got home.  (What can I say?  I'm a shower and go girl.)  Now that I no longer work in a school, he reeeeeally misses teacher appreciation day, poor guy.

I have used the expertise built up over years of teaching to find the really good teacher presents for Gem's teachers.  A couple of gifts I've given that I think her teachers liked best were gift certificates for a car wash (a really clean car is luxury) and homemade candied pecans.

I think I scored an end-of-the-year teacher Toppletan last May.  Gem drew a couple of pictures and I used my color printer to make them into note cards.  It was easy to find envelopes to fit and I used grosgrain ribbon to wrap 10 cards and envelopes together.  Teachers always need note cards, and these are much more meaningful than some I could just buy in a store.  I got such great feedback from her teachers, I gave them to grandparents (aunts too!).

I usually shop for presents all year long.  When I find what I think someone needs, I wrap it and stash it until the occasion presents itself.  (OK, sometimes I can't wait and I just have to give it to them right away.)  

Last year, I saw the "Easy Reach Grabber."  (a steal at under $5)  I right away realized that every little kid needs one.  I'm sure I needed one when I was a kid if only such a thing had existed in my world.  It was last Christmas's Toppletan.  Several hours on Christmas day were spent poking around the marsh in back of Memaw's house by children who couldn't care less about the expensive video games languishing upstairs.  

This year, I've got binoculars.  And LED headlamps.  Now that's what I'm talking about.  The Toppletan.

It's the Time of Year for a One House Open Sleigh

As a mother, I pick my battles.  Some things are worth arguing about and some are just not.  My test:  is it something they're going to do eventually anyway?  Don't sweat it.  Is it something they're not going to learn naturally?  That's where I put my effort.

So:  We are big on sitting down to a family dinner every night.  I insisted that my toddler sit at the table and learn manners that make her a pleasant dining companion.  After all, it's not uncommon for me to spend unpleasant time dining in company with adults who talk with food in their mouths, chew with their mouths open, don't use a napkin...you get the idea.  Ick.

On the other hand:  There was a period of almost a year when she was 3 that Gem insisted on wearing her shoes on the wrong feet.  Everywhere we went, people would say, "What an adorable little girl!"  and then whisper aside to me (as if I didn't know about it) "You know her shoes are on the wrong feet, Honey."  I would just smile wearily, "Yes.  That's how she likes it."  But honestly, I don't know any grown person who wears their shoes on the wrong feet, so I decided not to care.  (It may be a relief to you to know that this problem did resolve itself.)

Like all little kids, Gem would mix up words on a regular basis.  I am a teacher.  An early childhood person.  A reading specialist even.  But how I cherished those adorable mistakes!  I confess I often did not correct them.  

Once we were in a public place and my 2-year-old decided to sing the Star Spangled Banner at the top of her lungs with a special flourish at "the bombs burping in air."  She insisted that "Jingle Bells" were "on a one house open sleigh."  And the Little Star twinkled "like a diamond ring in the sky."  

There was a little song I used to sing, "The red light says to stop.  The green light says to go.  And in between the yellow light says, 'Caution, now go slow.'"  That ended up as "And beenatween the yellow light says, 'Carwash, now go slow."

Makes perfect sense to me.

First You Make a Roux

I love any occasion that encourages me to get together with those I love and spend the day cooking and eating.  Now it's 2 days later and in every home across the country, scrumptious leftovers are dwindling quickly.  Here in south Louisiana, turkey on Thanksgiving Day is just a preamble to deliciousness to come:  turkey gumbo.  And like so many good Louisiana recipes, it starts with a roux.


Here's my recipe:


turkey carcass with whatever leavings of meat are on it; I usually cut it into 4 pieces so they fit nicely in the pot
1/2 cup flour
3 tablespoons vegetable oil (not olive -- peanut is good because it can take high temperatures)
1 cup coarsely chopped yellow onions
1/2 cup coarsely chopped bell peppers
1/4 cup chopped celery
1 bunch flat leaf parsley, finely chopped (or a couple of tablespoons of dried if that's what you have)
water or broth to cover
1 or 2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon thyme
1/2 to 1 pound andouille sausage (or other smoked sausage you like) cut into 1/4 inch rounds
cayenne pepper and salt to taste
1 bunch finely chopped green onions
file powder (ground sassafrass root)


First you make a roux:  In your soup pot, combine oil and flour over medium heat, stirring/scraping continuously until the flour cooks to a medium brown color.  Some like it really dark, but there's a fine line between dark and burned.  Once I crossed that bitter line and the house smelled dreadful for days. (Seemed like days.)  Now I stay on the safe side and stop when it's about the color of peanut butter.


Throw in onions, bell peppers, celery, and parsley and saute until the vegetables are wilted.


Add turkey pieces and sausage.


Add enough water or broth to cover all the ingredients by at least an inch.  Don't worry if you add too much -- you can always just cook it longer to reduce.  You just don't want to add too little.  Actually, if you add too little, you can still just add more as needed.


Add salt and cayenne to taste.


Cook for a couple of hours partially covered so that the liquid can reduce.  Stir every so often.  Or if you have a husband who cannot resist stirring, let him do it whenever he wanders into the kitchen.  I'm married to a stirrer.


It's done when the meat is falling off the bones and the broth is the consistency you like. (I like it pretty thick.)  Fish out the bare bones and icky bits (skin) at the very end -- they add flavor and texture to the soup while it's cooking.  I also skim off the oil, though some people like to leave it.


Serve over fluffy rice and throw a handful of green onions onto the top of each serving.  I let everyone add their own file at the table.  (Some like it, some don't.)


So good.  I like it with cornbread.

Smack in the Middle of Satsuma Season

For shame!  I walked into a local supermarket the other day and saw this display right at the front door:

Why are these clementines from 500 miles away taking up prime grocery real estate?

Nothing against clementines, but our local satsumas are a toothsome, fragrant mandarin orange that has been grown here for well over 100 years. 

This is what should be at the front of every supermarket in the Gulf South right now:

Satsumas may not be showy, but they're soooooooo good!

Okay, they're kinda ugly compared to the perfectly shaped and uniformly orange clementines.  They are all shades of orange, yellow, and green when ripe.  Their skin is lumpy and loose -- so easy to peel.  They are sweet, tender, juicy, and practically seedless.  Around our house, we just live for satsuma season.  

Thank you, Clementine, but while satsumas are in season we have no need for other citrus.

Katrinas' Blessings

Usually when people talk about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath of flooding and devastation for the Gulf South, particularly New Orleans, they emphasized the -- very real -- tragedy of it all.  I want to talk about the blessings, just as real, it has brought.

It was with a feeling of new possibilities that my family returned in late 2005 to our ruined city, confident that we would help to rebuild it better.  We desperately needed political, judicial, and educational reform.  I was bitterly disappointed as one after another old problem crept back in.  Crime and corruption seemed as rampant as ever and the bad old days seemed to be back to stay.

In the last year, though, I've come to realize that I was wrong.  Reform is taking hold; it just didn't happen as fast as I thought it would.  It takes years to turn around a system so broken, decades even, but it's already starting to show.

Moving Slide Into Place

Around the corner from our house is a school that was scary bad before the storm.  It was a middle school (grades 6 - 8) with poor discipline, failing students, a crumbling building.  Now it is an elementary school, grades K - 8. 

When it first reopened, it seemed to be more of the same.  During morning arrival and afternoon dismissal, slouching kids would loiter around the entrance.  Their dress was slovenly, they would litter on the street, and the way the boys talked to the girls -- so disrespectful.

In the last two years, there has been a change for the better.  In the mornings and afternoons, teachers are outside smiling and chatting with the children, parents, and bus drivers.  The kids are mannerly and pleasant to the neighbors.  Academics are measurably improved.  The principal doesn't crow about the achievement gains, though, because she's not satisfied with where they are -- yet.

Painting a Really Cool Hop Scotch Board

Yesterday, the neighborhood and school communities united to build a new playground and generally spruce up the place.  Two wealthy local families footed the bill and KaBoom! organized the almost 600 volunteers to turn barren concrete into a great place for children to play and learn.  

Starting to Look Like Something!

It was amazing to meet the teachers, parents, and kiddos and peek into some of the classrooms.  (kindergarten -- my fave!)  This school could not have existed 5 years ago.  And now it's only one of many.  If this trend holds, it's no exaggeration to say that even my dreams for a transformed city will be realized.

Every Day Beauties

I love to garden (despite the fact that I have been shamefully remiss in my current garden where I have lived for more than 2 years already).  I love all flowers and vegetables and growing things and the wildlife they bring:  bugs, butterflies, and hummingbirds.  My lush, showy roses and bougainvillea make my heart sing every time I look at them.

Some of my favorites, though, are quiet beauties that most passersby might not even notice.

Waiting for Me to Come Along

Most of my neighbors view obedient plant as a weed.

Angelle Was Here

This insignificant perennial lies on the ground waiting for me to come along.  When I do, I always touch the leaves.  They  obediently fold up.  How fun is that?

Spanish moss is very common;  but could never be mundane.  It has a gossamer beauty all its own.  I usually see it in live oaks or cypress trees, but here it is growing  right on my crape myrtles.

Soon I hope to start my gardening in earnest.  Really, where I live it's hard not to have a garden.  If something gets stuck in the ground, it pretty much grows like crazy.








One of my neighbors with a sense of humor got a garden upgrade when she recently redid the bathroom.

Now that's something you don't see every day.

vvvvvvv 

Tearing Down the House

I am grateful for all the children in my life.  Even when they're doing their best to tear the house down and kill themselves in the process.

My dear friend Yasmeen has twin boys, 18 months old:  "Y" and "Z."  Neither she nor her husband has family locally and she has never left the children with anyone but their father.  She has recently been having health problems, though, and when the doctor's office called to say a time slot had opened up in the afternoon, she had to take it.  I was just so excited and honored when she asked me to watch the boys!  I offered to go to their apartment, but Yas decided to bring them here.

Just to say, I am a loving and competent baby sitter.  But these guys were way faster than me.  And somehow in the years since Gem was little, my house has become filled with sharp corners exactly at toddler eye level, drawers and doors waiting to pinch little fingers, lamps just a touch away from crashing to the floor and cutting small bare feet.

The minute Yas left, they were off and running in opposite directions.  I wrangled them downstairs and outside.  We went for a walk during which they attempted to throw themselves in front of moving cars, insert their fingers into the mouth of the neighbor's German shepherd, and enter every house on the block.

The nice lady two doors down has several cats.  Which eat from several bowls stashed around the front porch.  How was I to know that Y and Z love cat food?  Actually, I can remember a time when Gem ate it every chance she got too.

Hey, it's got nutrients.

When we got home, they played the piano with Gem and Y helped me cook supper.  He's quite the chef given his own empty pot and wooden spoon.  Perfect timing:  they started to get fussy just as I was ready to serve.  Gem and I put some old tee shirts over their clothes to serve as bibs and spooned them full of pasta and meatballs.

I could see them starting to rub their eyes and get a little whiny, so I felt a bath was in order.  Cue wailing and tearing of hair.  And that was just to get their clothes off.  I thought for sure once they got into the tub all would be well.  All children love to play in the water, right?  Wrong.  Now I know.

Thank goodness that's just when Yas returned with o.k. news from the doctor (not terrible; not great) and a little time spent all by herself.  (Bless her.)  And a Y and Z so happy to see their mommy!

After everyone left, Gem and I just looked at one another, dazed.  Really, my hat is off to mothers of twins.  I am in awe of what Yas does every day with such grace and serenity.

And Gem and I are already planning what to do next time we get to spend an evening with Y and Z. (Big smile!)