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Carol H Tucker

Passionate about knowledge management and organizational development, expert in loan servicing, virtual world denizen and community facilitator, and a DISNEY fan

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Be warned:in this very rich environment where you can immerse yourself so completely, your emotions will become engaged -- and not everyone is cognizant of that. Among the many excellent features of SL, there is no auto-return on hearts, so be wary of where your's wanders...


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the nose brings memories....


Today is the 1st day of the 12th, week, the 17th day of the 3rd month, the 76th day of 2019

The smell wafts up into the apartment and I glance at the time.  It is a about half past 11 on a Sunday morning, and someone below me is making Sunday dinner.  My stomach growls. 

Memories of past Sundays wash over me -- walking into Grandmom Hughes' house, through the back door and Grandmom at the counter turning around to give me a hug.  The kitchen awash with smells, pots on the stove bubbling, the oven making spitting noises as the roast beast [turkey, or pork shoulder, or beef] stews in its juices.  Grandmom cooked pretty much every Sunday and you made it if you could.  Usually we were there every other week or so, or sometimes once a month, always letting her know when we were coming, always being told we were welcome anytime, there would be enough.  There was meat, and potatoes -- lots and lots of potatoes mashed with butter and milk and gravy to go over them made with the drippings from the pan.  There were fresh baked rolls, rolls that no matter how many times her granddaughters were to make them from Grandmom's own receipe, only tasted that way when she made them.  There was "slaw" and she made some type of white dressing with Miracle Whip and vinegar and sugar, and there was always an extra cup of it because my cousin Holly really liked it and put it on her mashed potatoes.  There was the lingering smell of some yummy cake or pie that had been cooked that morning for desert.  It was a big kitchen, but with three or four women in it, some of us would pull out a chair and get out of the way, sitting by the table and sharing the doings of the past week[s].  

Then there are the times when I would make dinner, my abode full of the smells of the oven roasting and the saucepans rattling.  Or when I go and visit my and others weave in and out of the kitchen, frying, baking boiling, roasting, broiling, grilling.   Each has its own delicious odor, and the smell of it when you enter a house is enough to make your mouth water.  Sometimes but not always, restuarants can have that impact.  I remember the first Thanksgiving Frank and I were together -- Tom was not with us that day and Frank was not working, so we decided to go to a very good seafood restaurant called the Middleborough Inn for Thanksgiving dinner.   They were known for their crabcakes and that was what we were both going to get, I think, for we were both feeling a bit down and not very holidayish at all.  Then, when we got the car parked and got out, the smells of roasting turkeys punctuated with the pungency of sauerkraut washed over us ....  We both got a very traditional turkey dinner.

I don't enjoy cooking for myself and I don't have the occassion to cook for others.  In this busy time it seems that few folks in the building have time to mess with traditional meals, so my apartment is seldom innudated with the good smells of dinner.  But someone either on my tier or in my hall is making Sunday dinner today, and the smells are coming through the vent or from under my door and it smells wonderful.  Maybe they are celebrating St Patrick's Day?  Although it doesn't smell like corned beef and cabbage....


Microwave dinners just don't cut it sometimes.
Permalink | Sunday, March 17, 2019