jellyfishing

Jellyfishing. It’s my most favoritest part of watching SpongeBob with the kids. That sweet little rectangle romping through the fields “la la la laaa la lala.” There’s nothing but a huge smile and the pure joy of living drawn on his exaggerated face. He’s trying to whisp up a jellyfish in his net, just for the fun of it. Personally, jellyfishing is an internal thing. It’s the best I can express what happens when I find myself unable to sit down and type. Thoughts flitting through my days, a smooth up-and-down flip. They are not solid. They are not liquid. They are not gaseous (Thank goodness!), but they are temporary and simply must be grabbed lest they be lost.

This is how my brain has worked in the holiday crush, which has been clouded by sickness. The second-grader and I are having a little contest: Who will be the last man standing? This idea that if I should get sick he will win gets him to put up his hood … zip his coat … wear long sleeves. (I am winning … hood, zip, sleeves … YES!) But just as Capt. Kindergarten perked up Hubby went down with some kind of 24-hour (maybe 39-hour?) virus. Then The Little Lady Third Grade landed on antibiotics. Fortunately, she loves to read and so dozed in and out with “Sorcerer’s Stone” in her lap most of the day. With all this up-and-downing, no one felt much like eating.

I realized somewhere in the middle of doing it that I had taken several consecutive meals standing at the kitchen counter crafting and gnashing and not really knowing what I was eating or how much of it. I looked at the kitchen table, a mélange of homework, to-do lists and newspapers and tried to remember the last time we all sat there together. I was very disappointed in myself.

A few days later the table was set. Company was coming and we have a tradition of doing a little something extra together as a Christmas Dinner. There was real silverware and actual plates, not just the snack wrappers as in the times of the illnesses. These settings shone atop a crisply ironed tablecloth. We all sat together and our friend visited with the kids as they drank their milk from wine glasses and used their knives properly. When they were done it was off for a weekend dose of TV while the adults lingered over their own beef stroganoff and caught up.

Another whispy jellyfish crossed my brain: Sometimes it’s nice to make a big deal out of things that you do together often. Kathy comes over about once a month. She’s part of the family, so going casual is no problem … but there’s just something underneath when you’ve taken a few small steps to make it different, special, celebratory. It was just the kick in the butt I needed to remind me to slow down the holiday train and pull into a little station called HOME.

Then a jellyfish: The holidays are meant to be spent with family and friends, yet we get so busy preparing for these extended celebrations we slip, fall out of basic patterns or back-off of new commitments so as to find the time to meet the demands we place on ourselves. Somewhere in preparing for this time of important connecting, I disconnected from what’s important to me … mealtime with my family, encouraging others to share mealtime with their families, the satisfaction found in simplicity.

“As much as possible, we should eat only as much as we need.
This is not to say that our meals cannot be festive,
nor even that we cannot have a true celebration at times;
but we should always strive for simplicity.”
—Charles E. Bouchard, O.P.

My kids have asked me to explain what "simplicity" or "simple" means and I’ve found it quite difficult. I don’t want to use the words plain or easy. Simplicity can be elegant. And “simple but elegant” is almost never easy! But my mom’s old recipe, a favorite for the five of us, a nice fresh loaf of bread, a table set with our regular dinnerware, schnazzed up by a tablecloth that spends most of its days in the closet, and best of all the company of a good friend. It was a most simple way to say: “So, this is Christmas.”

I hope these next days find you with that gleam in your eye, those grins that come as you watch your little ones learn your traditions, the joy in celebrating the simple satisfaction of connecting.

My Mom’s Beef Stroganoff
1 lb. round or sirloin steak cut into strips*
2 Tbsps. flour
¼ cup butter or margarine
Garlic powder to taste
1 tsp. salt
Pepper to taste
½ cup chopped onions
2 tsps. Worcestershire sauce
1 cup beef bouillon
1 4-oz. can sliced mushrooms with liquid
¼ cup sliced stuffed green olives
1 cup sour cream

Over medium heat melt butter or margarine on a large skillet. Dredge meat in flour and brown in butter or margarine. Add onions when meat is turned to brown second side. Add seasonings, beef bouillon liquid and Worcestershire. Let this cook slowly over low heat for about 60 to 90 minutes. Watch so the liquid doesn’t boil over or cook out … water may be added.** (Cooking time is shorter if you use sirloin.) When the meat is tender, add the mushrooms and their liquid as well as the olives, just to heat. Last add the sour cream, a little at a time, and mix well. Just cook long enough to heat the sour cream. Serve over broad noodles.

*I bought “top round breakfast steaks” this time and it made prep faster. They are sliced very thin and I just cut them into narrow strips.

**The original recipe called for cooking sherry, but Mom never used it. Sometimes I do, just for a change, or I’ll throw in a little dry red wine if there is some left behind in a bottle from a previous meal.

P.S.—Thanks to Hubby … the SpongeBob to my Squidward, for pushing me back up on the blogging horse. It’s hard to jellyfish without a net … and it’s hard to type when you don’t put your fingers on the keys. As always, much love to you.