When life gives you Minus 2 degrees, you make Grammie's chili

Before you say "that's not chili," I will remind you that it's Grammie's chili, so reset your standards, people.

This is a dish Jeff's mom sprang on her family years and years ago. I don't know the origin of it. (What say you, Maine Reeds?) 

Marian was a wonderful mom. She stayed home when the kids were little, keeping them in line and dealing with a frugal budget. She often clipped recipes from the local paper and relied on Marjorie Standish's Cooking Down East to feed the brood. 

She could feed five on a can of Spam, but no one would confuse her with an adventurous cook. She once wanted to get fancy and created some sort of seafood salad probably courtesy of ol' Marjorie. She was rewarded by all three of her ungrateful offspring by their refusal to eat it. She made them sit at the table for hours in the boiling heat, if you can believe their side of the story.

But Grammie's chili is a family favorite. Upon waking to minus 3 degrees today, it was a given that we'd have it on the stove. 

Like a crazy man, Jeff braved the sub-zero temperatures to go play basketball, so I made the chili. As you know, he's usually the chef, but even I can't screw up Grammie's chili. I did make a small addition to the basic recipe. We'll see if he notices.

In other news, I'm a Dry January failure.

Before you judge me for breaking my pledge to abstain from alcohol this month, hear me out. First, there was left-over, high-end champagne from New Year's Eve so it would have been wasteful to not finish that half-bottle.

And second, I was under the influence of the Home for Wayward Girls Founder and Executive Director Annmarie Robertson after the third of three funerals/visitations of the weekend. And that margherita in South Bend helped boost the tip of our excellent waitstaff at Amazing Joes. So, really, that was a humanitarian gesture.

So yes, I'm technically a failure at Dry January. But it's a voluntary thing, so I'm not going to sweat over it.

I mentioned funerals. In an unlikely turn of events, we had three dear friends with celebrations of life for a parent Friday and Saturday. Those kinds of events are difficult, obviously for the survivors. But when we can, we like to at least show up for our friends.

Because the Saturday events were miles apart and at similar times, we ended up not staying long at either. We both felt like we didn't fully support our friends, but we're hoping they all know how much we love them. If you have a moment, send good vibes to the friends and family of Patricia and Patrick Jackson, Angela and Scott Roper, and Clay Miller. Each of them were blessed (I don't use that word often) to have parents who were amazing influences on them and others.

One thing we took away from Evansville was the minister's story of how the gift of a cordless drill had set him free to DIY all over his house. The sense of freedom set him on a search for any chance to use the tool he could find. Death is kind of like being cordless, he said. You're free from all the sin (he's a minister, remember) and Earthly stress that can curtail you.

I think we should all, maybe, go a little cordless even before we shuffle off our mortal coils. 

Which brings me back to not sweating the Dry January miss. I'm also choosing not to brave the sub-zero weather for an event a friend of mine is throwing that mixes exercise with watching tennis. I do want to go, but I'm just not in the head space. And everyone I know tells me I'm a terrible driver, so the thought of being in a ditch today is more than I want to deal with.

Instead, I made chili, frothed milk for my coffee and am catching up on work while watching the world outside my picture window. It's pretty out there. From in here. And I'm hoping Jeff makes it home from basketball. We have chili to share. 

Stay safe people. Hug your friends and family because you don't know how long you get to keep them. 

And, one more lesson from Marian Reed: don't stop telling stories about your departed loved ones. I've found (after a lifetime of packing away emotions) that it really does help lessen the pain.

For my friends who (like me) often get bogged down this time of year of gray skies and cold weather adding to whatever else might bother us, Take a look at this last photo. Two years ago, my friend, Dennis, gifted his coworkers with a Christmas poinsettia. I put mine in the basement sink under a window as an experiment. House plants don't tend to thrive here at Chez Reed. 

I didn't pay a lot of attention to to it, but that sink is by the washer, so I couldn't help but see it from time to time, so I'd toss a little water in there. And the dang thing didn't just survive, take a close look: it's little leaves are turning red!!! If that's not hope personified, I don't know what is.

Take heart my friends. A better day is coming.