Green Stuff

I am a member of a large family.  I love my family and I love our get togethers.  Holidays are usually the excuse for the get togethers.  Over thirty people cramming into a small space with smiles plastered all over their joyful faces.  The chit chat and catching up conversations all leading up to the climax: the meal.  Most get togethers are potluck.  Everyone is assigned a dish they will contribute to the overall meal.  We make them at home and then set them out on a large table we will later graze over for hours.  With a table full of turkey, ham, freshly baked breads, salads of all sorts, deviled eggs and olives, to name a few, there are so many choices that we can fill our plates with and come back to again and again. 

But only one dish designates my family from other families as our traditional dish.  The one dish that we all want, we all crave and we all know must be on the table at every gathering or overall disappointment will abound.  The “Green Stuff”.  It’s a simple dish to make.  One packet of Lime Jello-O, one container of cottage cheese, one container of Cool-Whip, some canned fruit and bananas.  That’s it.  Nothing really special about it.  Only that if it’s not on the table, many people will complain and someone will offer to make a trip to the grocery store all in hopes of restoring order to the now disappointed crowd.

I’m not sure where the tradition of the green stuff began.  I know that every single family dinner since I was a child has been accompanied by green stuff.  It’s the first dish to be emptied.  The one that everyone wants.  My mother’s family craves the deviled eggs and they are the first to go.  I have noticed this at other family’s dinner too.  Deviled eggs are cherished and people will go to great lengths to count how many each person has eaten to make sure the playing field is fair.  But in my Dad’s family, the green stuff bowl is enormous and there is always enough for everyone.  It’s our family’s crack.  The must have.  If it’s not on the table, Santa won’t come, the fireworks can’t be lit and the turkey will be ravaged by the next door neighbor’s dogs. 

It is so prized that it has to be made correctly. Making the green stuff incorrectly and you face scorn.  For years it was a dish that only my Grandma, Clara, would make.  She made it perfectly time and time again.  It was set up to the correct consistency each and every time.  About ten years ago, I thought I would be helpful and offer to make it.  This was my first go around with it and I wanted it to be perfect.  I spoke to my Grandma about it and was ready to go.  As I stood in the grocery store in front of all the Jello-O flavors, it hit me.  I was going to make it my own.  It was the Fourth of July and what better than to be patriotic and make it blue?  Only I didn’t realize that making it blue meant changing the flavor to blue raspberry instead of lime.  The key ingredient.  Proud as I was of my patriotic blue stuff, it was almost immediately scorned.  I was asked over and over again why it was blue.  Where was the green stuff?  My bowl was returned to me still half full.  I would never again make that mistake.  Green stuff is green and if you want to be in the good graces of your family, keep it real and keep it green.

Over the years I have made green stuff for friends.  It’s not the hit that it is with my family.  Maybe it’s an acquired taste.  Maybe it’s because Palmblad children are fed green stuff before they can even eat solid foods.  Green stuff is Palmblad and without it, we wouldn’t be Palmblads, we would just be a bunch of people gathering around a table.

Introducing Writer’s Choice: What’s In Your Wallet?

My ePortfolio would not be complete without my blog “What’s In Your Wallet?”.  I loved writing this piece so much.  I believe it really expresses who I am not only as a writer, but as a person.  I have grown academically this quarter.  I have learned how to use analysis in the readings and incorporate them into my writing.  However, with this piece, it was more about analyzing myself.  Who I am as a person and how others would see me if they could only use my bag as a guide.  It was an eye opening experience into how I could be judged.

What's In Your Wallet?

What's in your Wallet?  I hear that and instantly the picture of a Viking yelling pops into my head.  His mangy beard down to his chest.  His big sword menacing the people running through the mall.  Most of us are familiar with the Capital One commercials and the Vikings who ask this question.  Has any of us taken this literally and actually looked to see what is in our wallet?  More so, what would others think if they saw inside your wallet?

My wallet is located inside a hot pink and gray polka dotted canvas tote embroidered with metallic flowers, rainbows and Barbie.  Yes, I said Barbie.  I cherish Barbie.  Barbie was my most prized toys as a child and I never grew out of her. As an only child, I spent alot of time with Barbie and her many friends.  I loved the imagination needed to play Barbie.  My Barbies were inspiring.  They were Astronauts, Pop Stars, Cowgirls, working women and fashionable. I stopped playing with her in elementary school, but saved some of my favorites.  As an adult, I discovered a whole new Barbie.  A collector Barbie.  To date, I have 84 Barbies.  All of them still in their boxes.  I adore each and every one of them!  My bag is a token of who I am.  Barbie is a big part of my life and I share that with my daughters who also share my love of Barbie.  So much that my oldest daughter used her own money to purchase the bag for me for Christmas.  Would someone know this just by seeing my bag?  Of course not.  At first sight it may look like an eleborate school bag for a young girl.  It does double duty for me as a school bag too.  My large hard bound Algebra book, journal and grid paper pad is stuffed inside, making the bag heavier that it should be.

My wallet is ordinary.  Black leather with pink trim.  It contains the basic boring old wallet stuff.  My license showing I live in Everett, Washington with my age and my lower-than-truth weight, my debit card from a small Credit Union in Portland, Oregon, a library card with five smaller versions.  All the small ones with names of my kids written on them as their back up cards. There is a pink picture of my girls taken about eleven years ago with they were one and three.  Would you think I was the mother of small children?  Would you wonder where the extra pacifier, baby wipes or ointments are? Instead I am the mother of two teenagers, two pre-teens and a seven year old.  The whole wallet is fat with a multitude of receipts.  Most of them from Safeway.  From any other store, you might think I am addicted to shopping.  Maybe I have a grocery shopping addiction?  With seven in our family, I grocery shop alot.  Would you notice the amount of juices, bread and lunch meat I buy?  I make lunch and brown bag it for five kids every school day.  But why so many receipts?  I have no proper answer to that other than remembering my high school Economics teacher drilling into me the importance of keeping receipts.  I am almost fearful of getting rid of them and never do until I see the transaction has cleared the bank. Maybe I am simply a receipt hoarder.

The next big item is my pink plastic make up bag. Maybe by now you have caught on to the fact that pink is my favorite color.  The bulging bag is barely able to zip although is only contains the needed essentials.  One powder, one mascara, one eyeliner, one lipstick, one lipstain, one lipliner, one lipgloss.  I need options and options are essential.  Maybe all this envokes images of Drew Barrymore in flashing lights and overdone lips like her Covergirl commercial, but honestly, I am more of a mascara, clear lipgloss and a loose, lazy braid type of girl.

Lost in the dark land of the bottom of my purse is pens, pencils, mints, a travel size bottle of Tylenol, bobby pins and change.  Seems ordinary enough to me.   The pens are from The Everett Clinic in Everett, Washington, Clara's Ceramics in Gresham, Oregon and C&C Hair Design in Bullhead City, Arizona.  Would you think of me as well traveled?  I live in Everett and took one of my kids to the doctor last month and picked up a free purple pen while I was there as my Clara's pen doesn't work anymore.  It's a momento from my late Grandpa would ordered too many for their business.  I have been home in the Pacific Northwest for two years from Bullhead City and miss my hair stylist Claire.  She's a miracle worker and I have never found another stylist so wonderful, so I hang on to her pen in hopes of locating her kindred spirit up here.

The side pocket of my tote contains headphones and my Ipod.  Would you plug it in and see what it contains?  Would you be surprised at the amount of eighties songs?  It would seem I hold on to the past.  Holding on to last year's Starbucks gift card, old receipts, old pens, old lip gloss, and an old toy from my childhood.  Holding on to what you love is who you are.

  If you let go of what you love, then what would you be?  An empty wallet in a boring bag.