Nana’s Whimseys will be out of pocket for several days. I will see you soon!
Author Archives: kzmclain
Vitameatavegamin
When I get up in the morning, the first thing I do is turn on my computer. As it goes through its gyrations to get to a point where I can open up my email, I walk around and open the blinds and get a pot of coffee perking.
I then go back to my computer and open up Comcast to check my email. It’s important that I look first thing in the morning in case the president tried to contact me to get my assistance in some matter. So far he hasn’t, but you never know.
But to get to email, I must go through Comcast’s home page, which is always full of critical news. The top 10 reasons you shouldn’t drink diet soda, the 20 most dog-friendly cities, why you shouldn’t use punctuation in your text messages. I mean, really. The important stuff.
The other day the news that caught my eye was the television programs that are ending their runs in 2016. Now that was worth making the president wait another few minutes if he was trying to reach me.
I was aware of several of the television shows wrapping up their television time. There is, of course, Downton Abbey. Season 6 will be the end of the road for Lord and Lady Grantham and their minions. I’m hoping Edith will move to London, run her magazine and marry the agent (and can anyone tell me what an agent is?). I also have high hopes that the return of Tom and Sibby means Mary and Tom are going to wind up together. It seems like the only reason Tom and Sibby would have left Boston to return to Downton and Sibby and George should be brother and sisters. It simply has to happen.
Unless you live on Mars, you must be aware that American Idol is in its final season. I’m a devoted fan, but I think it’s time to say bye bye to the show. It’s been fun to watch all of the judges through the years. Ellen DeGeneres was a bad experiment much as I like her. Nicki Minaj and Mariah Carey? Who thought that was a good idea? I like the chemistry of the current judges, but the show has just gotten kind of predictable and unexciting. And Bill is disappointed over the fact that they don’t show the bad tryouts anymore.
Most of the rest of the 16 shows ending their runs I had never heard of. Banshee? Rectify? I have no clue. There was one show that I wasn’t aware was concluding of which I watch and was somewhat disappointed to hear they were ending – Rizzoli and Isles. The show happens to be the television show that delivers TNT its highest ratings, but apparently that isn’t enough to save it. According to the story, TNT is hoping to go in an “edgier direction.” I don’t know what that means except I’m pretty sure it will entail comic-book-based superheroes, vampires, or slutty female lawyers. I’m also pretty sure I’m not the demographic for the edgier programs they envision. That statement can be confirmed by the fact that I used the word “perking” when talking about making coffee in the first paragraph. Coffee hasn’t perked in 40 years.
Television producers likely spend lots and lots of money before deciding what programs should stay and what programs should go. They, of course, don’t ask for my opinion. Neither, frankly, does the president. It’s probably a good thing too.
Nevertheless, I can’t help but think that anyone of any age would be hard pressed to not laugh at Lucy Ricardo doing the commercial spot for Vitameatavegamin in one episode of I Love Lucy. It’s not edgy, but it sure is funny. Those were the good ol’ days of television.
I Took My Financial Advisor Off of Speed Dial
So, I didn’t win the powerball drawing. I thought I might. I know my chances were 1 in 292.2 million, but once when I was in grade school, my mom won a dishwasher in a church raffle. So, there’s always hope.
I purchased 5 of the 635,103,137 that were sold for the January 13 drawing, and 5 the week before. That brings the total of the number of powerball numbers I’ve purchased in my life to, well, 10. I was such a neophyte about the process, in fact, that I had to ask the woman at the customer service desk of my neighborhood Basha’s how to go about it. She looked at me oddly and said, “You give me $2 for each powerball number and I give you a piece of paper with your numbers on it.” And then she went home and told her family about the weird old person she helped that day.
I have heard a number of people say they were glad that they didn’t win because they didn’t want the stress of what to do with the money. I don’t believe them. I’m not glad I lost, and deciding what to do with the money would have caused me no stress whatsoever. No, I really mean it. I’ve never been rich and I would like to give it a try.
Like the millions of others who purchased powerball tickets, Bill and I talked about what we would do with our money when we won. After more discussion than you would probably think reasonable given my 5 numbers, we came up with a list.
For our children….
Allen – We would buy him a condo or small home near where he has his studio and a new car, maybe a Toyota Camry.
Dave – We would pay off their home mortgage, his law school loan, and his car loan. We would buy Jll a new van because hers has way too many miles.
Heather – We would buy them the house in Montpelier where they currently live and a new car, maybe a Subaru SUV so that they fit in with 95 percent of the other people in Vermont.
Court – We would pay off their home mortgage, their car loan, and buy him a new car that fits three kids but is kind of sporty.
But there’s more….
We would buy out Jen’s share of our AZ house and buy EITHER Mary’s house (across the street from Maggie and Mark) or the Canadians’ house (right next door to us) for her to live. It’s true neither house is for sale, but when you have 750 million smackers (after taxes), you can be quite convincing.
For all of our kids and grandkids, our siblings and their kids, and Shirley, we would treat everyone to a trip to Disney World in Orlando, FL, with rooms at the Grand Floridian. We briefly considered a Disney Cruise but decided the chances were too great that one or two of our grandkids could take a nosedive into the Atlantic. (That would be Cole and/or Micah.) Our great nieces and great nephews are welcome, but not on our dime. Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know!
Oh, and I’d finally get new carpeting for our house in Denver. You can only live with carpeting that was installed sometime during the Carter administration for so long.
Alas, none of those dreams are going to come to fruition for our kids, unless someone makes a pretty compelling argument to a particular person or persons who live in Tennessee, Florida, and California.
I have purchased my last powerball ticket. Well, until the next time the winnings creep into the billions.
Oh, and by the way, we did win $4. Not enough for carpeting, I’m afraid.
Powerball winners
Not Powerball winners
This post linked to the GRAND Social
Saturday Smile: Beach Bums
All of my grandkids enjoy the water. Well, Mylee might be a bit more like her nana in being a bit reserved about swimming. Still, she’s learning and I’m happy about that.
Addie, Alastair, Dagny, and Maggie Faith are big, BIG fans of swimming. I accompanied them to Disneyland five or six years ago (Maggie was still in a stroller). While they certainly enjoyed Magic Kingdom, they probably enjoyed the swimming pool at the hotel as much, if not more. They are happy to just swim and swim and swim.
Almost every year around Christmas, they, along with Jll’s sister Julie and her mom, spend a week or so in Mexico. They rent a house, and always have such fun. It makes me happy that they enjoy their time there so much.
This year they went to Cabo San Lucas, and here are a couple of photos that make me smile….
The ladies of the group pose beautifully for a picture. Jll’s mom Lynne, her sister Julie, and Jll herself are the grown ups. Addie, Dagny and Magnolia complete the group.
And here we have McLains at the Beach!
Have a great weekend.
Friday Book Whimsy: Career of Evil
I wonder why authors choose to write under pseudonyms. Perhaps it’s to avoid having the reader approach a novel with preexisting expectations. I don’t know. J. K. Rowling – the author of the Harry Potter series – didn’t call me and ask me what I thought before she began writing a new series under the name Robert Galbraith. The result is that every time I talk about one of the books in the Cormoran Strike series, I feel compelled to remind you of the real name of the author. So consider yourself reminded.
And I hope I have to do it 10 or 11 more times, because the Cormoran Strike series is so well worth reading. Galbraith (wink, wink) is an amazing writer, it’s true. But I mostly enjoy this series because I find the characters so, well, interesting and realistic.
Strike, the protagonist, is not your typical private detective. The author’s descriptions call to mind a most unattractive and unappealing man, overly large, unattractively dark and hairy and infinitely grouchy. He’s grouchy because the prosthesis that replaces one of his legs is always extremely uncomfortable. My heart goes out to him in every book.
Career of Evil, the third in the Cormoran Strike series, begins with Strike’s likeable secretary/assistant Robin receiving an unexpected package which turns out to be a woman’s severed leg. Strike immediately recognizes that the person who sent the horrible package is trying to send the message to him that those closest to him are not safe. He immediately isolates four people in his life who he believes evil enough and with enough hatred of him to do such a thing.
His hunt for the responsible party makes up the bulk of the story. The author takes a bit of an unusual turn this time by including chapters told from the point of view of the killer. I found that to be creepy but somewhat annoying. The killer sounded too much like Buffalo Bill (the real bad guy in Silence of the Lambs, something often forgotten because of the horror of Hannibal Lector’s presence). There was an awful lot of talk about cutting off limbs and pieces of his victims. Thankfully, Galbraith never has us experience an actual atrocity.
The best part of this book was that the reader got the opportunity to get to know Robin (Strike’s assistant) much better and to see her grow as a character. The worst part of this book, as with the other two books in my opinion, is that Galbraith uses way too many words. The books, I believe, are overly long. Even though his/her writing is extraordinary, I believe it takes too long to get to the parts that are really interesting.
Nevertheless, I am a devoted fan of Cormoran Strike, and will never, ever miss one of his adventures.
Thursday Thoughts
Gift Giving Follow Up
I began writing this blog in August of 2013. Since that time, except for a few exceptions (mostly hospital visits, a few vacations), I have posted every day but Sundays. That’s well over 700 posts. My hits (the number of people who read my blog each day) have ever so slooooooowly increased, but even now they are only about 60 on a good day. That’s okay because I write for the enjoyment of it, though I would love my numbers to increase. Up until this past Monday, the most hits I’d ever gotten in one day was 129, and that was the blog post about our whale watching adventure while visiting Vermont. Monday’s post about Jo Lynn and her gift to her friend of a kidney has received – at the time of this writing – 462 hits. And that doesn’t count the ones that came in through my home page. Not only did the numbers flabbergast me, but the number of countries from which people accessed my blog was astounding. Again, at the time of this writing, that post got hits from Canada, Norway, Germany, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, Hungary, Thailand, Denmark, the Netherlands, Brazil, Malaysia, Ireland, Indonesia, and of course the United States. Oh, and one last thing. I was contacted by the public relations department of the National Kidney Foundation asking for Jo Lynn’s contact information to do a follow up story. Jo Lynn said she has been overwhelmed with the good will she has received, and hopes that the result will be more people being willing to donate.
Ahoy Matey!
The past few days have been sunny, but we haven’t had great weather since we arrived in Arizona. I’m not complaining, as there is snow and very cold weather back in Denver. But the temperature has mostly been in the 50s during the day and down in the 30s at night. The past few days have been warmer, in the neighborhood of 62 or 63. During the chillier days, there was also quite a bit of rain. We have never been here during the monsoon season and this rain was apparently nothing like that. Still, it rained pretty steadily for a couple of days. Because the ground is made mostly of clay and so is very hard, the water doesn’t drain easily. That’s why in low-lying areas, there are signs saying not 
to venture forth if there is water on the road. Because water doesn’t drain, there are designed low-lying ditches all over the city for water to sit while it slowly seeps into the soil. We have a couple of them in our neighborhood, as do most neighborhoods. Kids will play in the short-lived ponds, though I’m certain they’re not supposed to. But kids are kids.
It’s Not Rocket Science
One of my go-to treats to make for my grandkids is rice krispie treats. I must admit, I love them myself. Even my mother, who didn’t bake a lot because she was was married to a baker, would make rice krispie treats. I think every mother made them in the 1950s. My grandson Alastair has told me mine were the best, and that always made me laugh. Because, let’s face it, there really isn’t much to the recipe. I always figured it’s because I use extra butter and a bit of vanilla. But I recently came across a recipe on Pinterest for what was purported to be the best EVER Rice Krispie Treats. The recipe came from a blog called South Your Mouth. I pinned the recipe, and subsequently made them. They were the best EVER Rice Krispie Treats for sure. The trick? Two bags of mini marshmallows instead of one, a stick of butter instead of half a stick, vanilla, and a pinch of salt. What’s more, you hold back two cups of the marshmallows until the rest are all melted, and then add them just before mixing with the rice krispies, resulting in pockets of melty marshmallowy goodness. Here’s a link to her recipe.
Top 40
When I work in the kitchen, I like to play music. I have finally put away my Christmas music, so while I was preparing the rice krispie treats yesterday, I turned on my iPod and selected one of my playlists. Every song that came up was one I LOVED. I could sing along and, in fact, did. It finally occurred to me that the reason I was enjoying each and every song was that the playlist I chose was called My Favorite Songs. Duh. One of the first songs to play was Louie Armstrong’s Mack the Knife. That song gets me singing and dancing like no other. A bit later, Mack the Knife again began playing, but this time it was Michael Buble’s version. I love Michael Buble, but really, I couldn’t listen to it at the same sitting as listening to Louie Armstrong’s version. There’s simply no comparison. I can’t listen to Louie Armstrong without remembering that I accidentally broke my dad’s Louie Armstrong album featuring Mack the Knife when I was a small girl. I dropped it and it broke in half. Isn’t it funny that I remember that? I also remember that I was afraid I’d get in trouble, but didn’t. I’m sure that was one of Dad’s grit-you-teeth-and-smile moments that all parents have.
Ciao.
No, You Hang Up First
While googling something totally unrelated recently, I came across a clip from an old Friends episode that made me laugh. It was an early episode (you can tell by Jennifer Aniston’s hair style) after Ross and Rachel had broken up and Ross was on the telephone with a new girlfriend. Their telephone conversation was over but each was reluctant to be the first to hang up and they were being silly. “You hang up first,” Ross says. Pause. “No, you first,” he continues, giggling. It goes back and forth for a bit. At one point they agree to hang up at the same time, but of course neither one does. Finally Rachel, who is sitting next to Ross the entire time, has had enough. She grabs the phone and hits disconnect.
The reason I found that clip so amusing is that I find myself in that situation on a regular basis. Oh, not on the telephone. You surely know that no one talks on the telephone these days. I run into the problem when texting.
Of course, you might recall that I recently discovered that the fact that I was putting periods at the ends of my sentences when texting was offending people and I didn’t even know it. So I’m trying to be more careful about my texting etiquette.
But the problem is, how can I be sure the party with whom I’m texting knows that I received their message unless I respond? And then how can they be sure I know they know I know they received their message unless they respond back. And so it goes. It can potentially have no end.
It leads to conversations like this:
Me: What time do you want to meet?
You: Let’s say 11:30 at Village Inn. (There’s a period because it’s only with Baby Boomers that the problem exists and Baby Boomers use punctuation.)
Me: Okay, that sounds good.
You: We’ll see you at 11:30 then.
Me: Yep. See you then.
You: Ok. I’m looking forward to it.
Me: Okey dokey.
You: You betcha.
And so on.
When texting with Court, the whole issue of who ends the texts rarely comes up. Our conversations are more like this…
Me: Can you have lunch today?
Court: Yes (no punctuation)
Me: Oh good. Let’s meet at Chili’s at noon.
Nothing
Me (in my mind): Hello, hello, is anyone there?
He has received my message and plans to meet me there as I indicated. He simply doesn’t feel compelled to confirm that because he assumes technology worked. It’s always a surprise to me when he’s there as planned, though by now it shouldn’t be.
By the way, those words (Hello, is anyone there?) are exactly the words my 7-year-old granddaughter Kaiya wrote when she was trying to text me recently; I didn’t answer her initial message because I was not near my iPad. Perhaps she’s going to be a chip off the ol’ grandmother block.
I’ve discovered that I have a similar issue when leaving a voice message. I am not one who likes to talk on the telephone. So it is a mystery to me why I consistently leave messages that are way too long and full of ridiculously unnecessary information.
For example: Hi Sharon. My name is Kris. I saw your ad on Craig’s List for a Kitchenaid Mixer. I’m interested in purchasing one. I only live in Arizona in the winter and I have one in Denver where I live most of the time. But since I only live here four months out of the year, I decided it would be stupid to buy a brand new Kitchenaid, especially if I can find one that is in good condition. I’m not worried about buying used because Kitchenaid mixers are made so well that they last forever. I know someone who uses their grandmother’s old Kitchenaid. It seems silly to spend a bunch of money on something that is probably in perfectly good condition. So could you please give me a call as soon as you get this message. If I don’t answer my phone, it’s probably because I’m at the gym. I don’t take my phone with me to the gym because I’m always afraid it will get stolen or I will forget to pick it up and take it with me when I go. Lordy, getting old isn’t for wimps, is it? Of course, you probably don’t know because you’re probably only in you early 30s. I hope I hear from you soon. And, by the way, I hope the Kitchenaid you’re selling isn’t pink because pink isn’t in my color wheel. Have a great day.
I’ll tell you what isn’t for wimps – being a Baby Boomer!
I Baptize Thee…..
The Baptism of Christ by Andrea del Verrocchio and Leonardo da Vinci.
I don’t remember my baptism. Back in 1953, the Catholic Church taught that infants who died unbaptized didn’t go to heaven, but instead went to someplace it called Limbo. As nice as heaven but without the joy of seeing God, the nuns told us. And they could play this game where you tried to go backwards under a bamboo stick while steel drums and guitars were playing reggae music.
Oh, I’m just kidding about the last part. Newborns can’t even walk, much less dance.
Anyhoo, because of this belief, which (thankfully) is no longer part of Catholic dogma, babies were baptized as soon as possible – hopefully within days – maybe even hours — of being born. So undoubtedly most cradle Catholic baby boomers don’t remember their baptisms.
Bill was brought up Baptist, and so he was 12 or 13 when he was baptized. He explained to me that the Baptist church teaches that a person should be old enough to make the decision to be baptized, and so it is generally when they are a pre-teenager. He was fully submerged rather than having holy water trickled on his head. Wow. When my son Court was baptized at age 1 month, he was inconsolable over that trickle of water. Of course, he was inconsolable for about the first four months of his life.
But I digress….
In Sunday’s Gospel from St. Luke, Jesus is baptized. I’ve always wondered why Jesus was baptized seeings as he had no sins, original or otherwise. I don’t have the answer, of course, but have believed that it was sort of God’s introduction of his Son – our Savior – to the world. After all, after St. John the Baptist baptized Jesus, God spoke from heaven and said, “This is my beloved Son.” So perhaps this was a sign that Jesus was human, but that he was going to fill us with the word of God because Baptism makes us one with God.
Not all of my grandchildren are baptized. This fact ranks among the top things in my life that hurt my heart. After the birth of one of my grandchildren, I met with our pastor.
“My heart is broken,” I told him, “and I don’t know what to do.”
His advice was stellar and I took it to heart, and continue to do so. “Do nothing but love your grandchildren and model your love for God to them,” he said. “They will one day make their own decision, and it will be the right one.” And he assured me that the Catholic Church no longer taught or believed in the notion of Limbo.
While the Catholic Church teaches that the sacrament of Baptism does, indeed, free us from sin, that’s not why I wish all of my grandkids were baptized. Kids don’t sin. They just are kids. However, I just think that Baptism brings us into relationship with God in a formal way, with friends and family in witness. It provides the opportunity for God to say, “This is my beloved (son or daughter). In you I am well pleased.”
Jesus’ baptism brought him into the community of the world. Baptism brings us into the community of the church. That fact seems important to me.
Random Act of Senseless Kindness
It appears I’m somewhat obsessed with the notion of gift-giving these days. Take my recent blog post about Epiphany when it seemed all I could think about was that gold, frankincense and myrrh were odd gifts. Then there was the blog post in which I talked about the horrors of shopping at the mall right before Christmas and the glories of internet shopping. I offered my readers pictures of my grandkids opening their gifts. About the only thing I haven’t done is show you a copy of my credit card bill.
Oh, or donate a kidney.
Because, friends, while I have been focusing on material gifts, I recently met someone who truly knows the meaning of giving a gift of love.
Her name is Jo Lynn, and she’s mostly like you and me. She is a busy wife and mother with a full-time job. She has a life filled with housework and bosses and grocery shopping and school events. In addition to these normal activities, she also is an amateur athlete who does CrossFit and runs ultramarathons. Okay, maybe that’s not like you and me. But you get my point.
But one day Jo Lynn was looking at Facebook and came across a surprising post from one of her Facebook (and real-life) friends. Could you save my life? I need a kidney, the post said, or my kidneys will soon fail completely.
Jo Lynn was aware that her friend Mary was in kidney failure and had been for some time. Mary’s father and grandmother had died of kidney failure. Mary herself was at a point where she spent every single solitary night hooked to a dialysis machine that was keeping her alive. Imagine that. She hadn’t had a dream for three years because the dialysis machine prevented her from any REM sleep.
Mary was reluctant to take the step of reaching out to her Facebook community, but her husband insisted on it. Family members were unable to donate because their blood types were wrong. Mary’s blood type was O, and the list for kidney donors with that particular blood type was in the neighborhood of six years long. Mary was unsure if she had that much time. Facebook was one way of reaching a large number of people, her husband told her.
What grabbed Jo Lynn’s attention was that Mary had type O blood. That meant that Mary could only receive a kidney from someone with type O blood. Guess who has type O blood? Yep. Jo Lynn.
Right then and there, Jo Lynn began to form a plan. After talking to her husband (who not only didn’t think she was insane, but actually was sad that his own blood type prevented him consideration), she began taking the steps necessary to donate one of her kidneys to her friend.
And let me tell you, there were very, very, very many steps. You can only imagine. Test after test after test after test. Physical tests. Counseling with a social worker. Blood draws. CT scans. Jo Lynn didn’t even tell her friend that she was undergoing these tests for some time because she didn’t want to get her hopes up only to have them shot down because of some medical anomaly that would prevent her from being able to donate her kidney.
The tests went on for literally months. Jo Lynn saw the Facebook posting in March of 2015. The surgery took place on December 23, (coincidentally 61 years to the day of the first successful kidney transplant in Boston), at a hospital in Scottsdale, AZ. It just happened to be the hospital in which Jo Lynn was born.
Did you ever hesitate, I asked her. Was there ever a time when you thought maybe you had bitten off more than you could (or wished to) chew? Did you have second thoughts?
Not once, Jo Lynn told me. None of the family members could donate. She had the right blood type. “How could I sit back and do nothing?” she said.
How, indeed.
Kris and Jo Lynn. The person on the left DIDN’T donate a kidney.
Because I simply can’t leave well enough alone, I asked her if she was spiritual. She admitted to not being a church-goer. But she would also not reject the notion that God played – and continues to play – a part in this whole affair. After all, about the time that Mary learned she had bum kidneys, Jo Lynn – far, far away in Colorado – decided to begin eating a healthy diet and exercising. Almost like she was preparing her body for what was to come.
The next four to six months are critical in Mary’s life. If her body is going to reject Jo Lynn’s kidney, the next few months will tell. She will be on anti-rejection medication for the rest of her life. That is a small price to pay for getting her life back. She has even begun to have dreams again. Probably both awake and asleep.
As for Jo Lynn, her life will have to change very little, surprisingly enough. We can live perfectly well with one healthy kidney. The doctor’s only order? No contact sports.
Rats. So Jo Lynn will have to give up her dreams of being the first woman NFL player or a professional boxer.
And I’m going to have to reassess my ideas of giving gifts. I likely will never have the opportunity of donating a kidney, and am not sure I would even have the chops to do it if the opportunity presented itself. But Jo Lynn’s experience makes me very aware of what it means to love one another.
Nana’s Notes: The blog title comes from a song with the same title written by Gary Baker, Frank Myers, and Jerry Allan Williams; performed by South Sixty Five. Jo Lynn is a friend of my sister Jen, who I thank for arranging this meeting. It was a wonderful experience.
This post linked to the GRAND Social
Saturday Smile: Tongue in Cheek
My son’s guest post this past week on his culinary adventure involving the tongue of a cow generated lots of talk and opinions. Frankly, most people said, “No thanks.” Others proclaimed they grew up on a farm and were used to eating all parts of an animal. My brother promised he was going to bring me a lengua burrito from a place called Erickberto’s that I would most certainly like. We’ll see.
The whole experience made me recall the andouillette sausage Bill and I ate, quite by accident, while in Europe in 2008.
We were driving in France, near the Germany border. We stopped for lunch at what was for all intents and purposes a truck stop that offered a buffet. We chose our food items. Having never met a sausage I didn’t like, I chose a sausage for my lunch. I took a bite, and thought, hmmm, that’s actually quite nasty-tasting. I offered a bite to Bill and he agreed. Later, I looked at our bill and noticed that what I had eaten was andouillette sausage, the one thing that travel guide writer Rick Steves urged his readers to NEVER EAT.
When we got to our hotel, I logged on to my computer and Googled “andouillette sausage” and immediately wished I hadn’t. Andouillette sausage is made, frankly, from the colon of a pig. It smells like it and it tastes like it. And that’s all I’ll say about that.
Gloria tells my brother David just how to make the world’s finest tacos de lengua.
But back to the tacos de lengua. At 6:15 a.m. yesterday morning, I received a text message from my brother, who continues to try and convince me to try lengua. As part of his job, he had run into a baker of hispanic descent. He asked her if she cooked lengua. Of course, she answered. The best in the world she proudly proclaimed. Here is her recipe straight from the horse’s mouth:
Wash but don’t clean the top skin. Boil for 30 minutes with onions, whole garlic, garlic salt and a spice of which she couldn’t remember the name. After it’s boiled, clean it. The skin comes right off. Put on a corn tortilla, cilantro, onion, and jalapeno. Enjoy.
But perhaps my sister Jen had the best idea. You know how people have Meatless Mondays? She suggested I start a regular Tuesday blog post entitled Tasty Tongue Teasers Tuesday, and feature a weekly tongue recipe.
Have a great weekend.
Nana's Whimsies 