Cam Phone Spam Scram Gravy Ain't Wavy

Here in Plano voter interest in the municipal election is up one mild eyebrow twitch above the usual total apathy. We have a, gasp, openly gay candidate for city council. We have a $490 million school bond proposal when many families are cutting their driving and eating lots more beans.

Speaking of gas, the candidates have ALL figured out how to use automated annoying phone calls. I was home this afternoon because of school conference day, and the phone rang every five minutes with a robo-candidate urging me to vote.

Somehow, I got off the campaign track into a discussion about gravy. Growing up, it was a given that during any meal served with gravy someone would remark, "Scram gravy ain't wavy." What did it mean?

Googling "scram gravy" I learned that the expression probably derived from an old-timey newspaper comic about a fireman called "Smokey Stover". If you happen to remember anything from "Smokey Stover" about Molly freezing on the trolley*, PLEASE leave a comment! Dad and I have been as far up and down the sidewalk of Memory Lane as he can go pushing his walker, and I barely remember the comic in the Omaha Weird Herald.

As a kid in the Sixties, I believed that "scram gravy ain't wavy" was a jab at our neighbors who made lumpy gravy with flour and milk instead of using the inherently superior smooth cornstarch recipe seasoned with brown sauce. I have to laugh, but we kids must have had playground taunts like, "my mom's gravy is smoother than your mom's gravy!" It was an era of Meat and Potatoes.

Fritzi's Gravy

Yield: 2 cups


2 Tbsp fat drippings
2 cups hot water drained off the boiled potatoes you are going to mash
2 Tbsp Argo® Corn Starch
1/4 cup cold water
1 tsp Gravy Master or other brown sauce
Salt and pepper to taste

Remove all but 2 tablespoons fat drippings from roasting pan. Stir in hot water. Cook over medium heat, stirring to loosen browned bits. Remove from heat.


Put corn starch and water in a small jar with a tight lid, then shake until smooth; stir into pan. Add seasonings. Stirring constantly, bring to a boil over medium heat and boil 1 minute.

*Dad is probably thinking of Walt Kelly's Christmas classic:

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., and Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley
Swaller dollar cauliflower Alleygaroo!
Don't we know archaic barrel
Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola Boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!


© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Hill and Bill and the heavies

Not a good weekend here at the old homestead. Woke up Saturday, and spent the next seven hours in an intestinal nightmare. Then I shivered and napped for another eight hours except for three calls from the Clinton campaign. Ate a baked potato. Slept another eight hours. Woke up Sunday with a calm stomach, but weak knees, sore abdomen, and pinchy twinges in my back, not to mention three more calls from the Clinton campaign. Ate another baked potato.

I believe strongly in the healing power of a baked potato for most of what ails me. Wish I believed as strongly in any candidate for public office. I was beginning to believe Hillary had called down a curse upon me after I cast my early ballot after the luncheon Friday afternoon. My brain was set on High Foggy all Saturday. Everything seemed like a bad community playhouse production of the Wizard of Oz. That Yellow Brick Road is just your intestine, Mama, and dang if those flying monkeys didn't get inside it!

Turned out six of the seven school staff members at our annual luncheon Friday had the same churning gut weekend. I'm not sure if they voted, but I bet Hillary and Bill kept their phone ringing. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. It's just Bill [and his little dog Toto]. And please pass the soothing pink Pepto Bismal.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Celery Sing-Along

I'm rediscovering the deliciousness of creamy peanut butter this summer. Last week the preschoolers dipped apple slices in peanut butter. Today they made good old "ants on a log"; celery filled with peanut butter and decorated with raisins. While I was assisting in the construction of these gourmet delicacies I kept trying to remember the bump on a log song. It was difficult to concentrate when the lovely peanut butter smell kept enfolding me. Up from the deep, mucky recesses of my brain I finally got an image of the Magic Drawing Board on the 1950s Captain Kangaroo show. The lyrics percolated up like slow bubbles in a peanut butter geyser:



There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea
Traditional

There's a hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a hole, there's a hole
There's a hole in the bottom of the sea.

There's a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a log, there's a log
There's a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

There's a branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a branch, there's a branch
There's a branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

There's a bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a bump, there's a bump
There's a bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

There's a frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a frog, there's a frog
There's a frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

There's a tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a tail, there's a tail
There's a tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

There's a speck on the tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a speck on the tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a speck, there's a speck
There's a speck on the tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

There's a fleck on the speck on the tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a fleck on the speck on the tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea
There's a fleck, there's a fleck
There's a fleck on the speck on the tail on the frog on the bump on the branch on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

It's good to have that settled!

Unfortunately, I can't seem to find my Bela Fleck cd now! Plus, I have an urge to wade in the mud-bottom of Willow Creek in Pierce, Nebraska as it was in the late Sixties. O my frogs, polliwogs and squishy, slurpy, muddy toes all cool and refreshed!



A peanut sat on a railroad track,
His heart was all a-flutter,
Round the bend came Number Ten.
Toot! Toot! Peanut butter! SQUISH!

..........................

Oh, I went down South
For to see my Sal
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day
My Sal, she is
A spunky gal
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day
Fare thee well, Fare thee well,
Fare thee well my fairy fay
For I'm going to Lou'siana
For to see my Susyanna
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day

Oh, a grasshopper sittin'
On a railroad track
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day
A-pickin' his teeth
With a carpet tack
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day
Fare thee well,Fare thee well,
Fare thee well my fairy fay
For I'm going to Lou'siana
For to see my Susyanna
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day



My grocery store hasn't begun restocking Peter Pan peanut butter after the salmonella problem of last winter. I guess I'll have to choose Skippy or Jif. [And if I ever happen to become a hardcore traditional condo owner, I will name my dachsunds Skippy, Jif, and Peter Pan. ] So maybe next time I'll visualize that celery as fleas on a dachsund!
© 2007 Nancy L. Ruder

Paint on that comfort food!

Stapling is hard work. My little students are making fierce lion headdresses. They are learning to hold their scissors the right way so the dangerous alligator can do its biting. They are transforming squares into octagons. They are folding and curling papers.

I've been stapling the components of lion headdresses all week. No classes today, but my hand is still sore from stapling. For a treat I went to the closest fabulous fingernail place. The hand massage by the manicurist helped my staple strain.

Didn't realize until I got back home that I chose a polish that looks exactly like Campbell's Tomato Soup! Guess I've been a bit stressed lately.

Sweater weather

It's confusing when North Texas suddenly changes from 100+ degrees to dark, rainy, and 80 degrees. We want to wear sweaters, eat baked potatoes, chili, and oatmeal. Not that we want to turn off the a/c set at meat locker, but we stiill expect snow flurries.

My Tuesday classes are packed. We're reading a cute new book, Two Shoes, Blue Shoes, New Shoes. It's funny watching the lights click on when I ask if anyone has blue shoes today? What about new shoes? What about two shoes??! I do! I do! I do! We're using all sorts of blue mediums, and when we're finished my good helpers each collect all the blue markers, crayons, colored pencils, rubbing crayons, and texture plates. The three year olds learn about sorting and categories, the four year olds love being the collector/enforcers. The five year olds get bogged down writing their names on their paper. The six year olds ponder why we say we are "blue" to mean sad, but a whole painting of blues makes us feel like jumping in a swimming pool. Seven year olds draw baboon astronauts zipping through space in crazy shoe shaped rockets with the shoelaces trailing behind.

Take your blue suede shoe out for a flight around the galaxy! Be sure to wear your crown and fairy wings. Make that shift into warp speed.