from the mixed-up files of a middle-aged mind

Hamburger Helper Self-prompted memory on account of Sunday dinner. When I was a kid - oldest of 6 - we were assigned to prepare a dinner and a breakfast (at least inasmuch as I recall) once a week. Regardless of homework, sports team practice and games, and anything else going on. I didn't fully appreciate it at the time, but it was good practice. (We were also on rotation for setting the table and doing the dishes, which I appreciated even less.) To this day I'm amazed that my mom somehow knew how to stretch one box of hamburger helper to feed a family of eight. And just like we often inexplicably supplemented the fresh whole milk from our dairy cows with powdered milk, though we also raised Angus beef on our farm our hamburger was sometimes not hamburger at all, but rather TVP (textured vegetable protein).  My favorite flavor of hamburger helper was cheeseburger macaroni.  To no one's chagrin, my days of hamburger helper are long past. However a year or two ago I was remi...

Jen Galan Bright blue eyes full of mischief and also full of love. Brightest smile. One of the smartest and funniest people I may ever know. Jen had-- has --the biggest and most generous heart. Jen was my friend for years before I actually saw her. We met right here--through Blogger, back in the day. Galanpalooza meet Compulsive Writer. We had mutual friends. Bloggers--mostly moms--for blogging sake. We connected because she was brave enough to be vulnerable before it was the subject of a Brene Brown book. Our hearts went out to each other's. Jen has many friends and was open and loving to all. She made us all feel special and like we were her best person. Not in a contrived way. She just gave you her heart. Sometimes she confided in me. Sometimes I peeled away a layer or two and confided in her. We listened, loved, and supported and strengthened each other. We connected because she was real. This past Christmas I did some organizing. And it seemed every time I turned around I foun...