My E Ticket Ride and Guacamole

I have been feeling a lot lately like I am going to pieces and I can’t seem to get a handle on why. When that happens I know a look back is in order and after looking back, all I can say now is I’m just surprised I’m not thrashing around in the deep end.

I live in a small town in Northern Los Angeles County, squarely in the Mojave Desert. I’ve lived here for just a little more than a year and I know two people in town:  My husband, JT, and my next door neighbor, Ralph. Result:  I'm a bit lonely.

At the end of July, my last child left home. For thirty years someone was around to call me Mom. Now no one does. The funny thing is that I have spent all their time in my house, beginning with pregnancy and every day straight through their teens (especially their teens) looking forward to the day they would all be gone. Why am I so sad that I have lost my job?

A few months ago a beloved auntie was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. She died in early September, two days after my birthday.

My mom and dad came to see her before she died and while they were here (fortunately I live a short hour and a half from my auntie’s house) my mother had to take my father to the emergency room at the local hospital, where he spent the next ten days. Turns out he was diagnosed with colon cancer about two years ago and since he chose not to take the traditional route of surgery and chemo, the end result is he now has a colostomy bag. My parents chose not to tell two of my brothers and me about the cancer until they were forced to by this little surgery.

They—my dad, mom, and one brother, who lives with them and was sworn to secrecy about the cancer—spent two months recuperating here in my house. They left at the end of September.

Finally, last week I learned my husband’s job comes to an end December 31 of this year. I am not worried (not too much, anyway) because I know God is looking after this, but I wonder, where will we find ourselves next?

Whew.

Is it any wonder I want to eat another chimichanga grande (that’s a euphemism for a giant, deep-fried burrito) topped with guacamole and sour cream and finish the meal with a strawberry sundae at Disneyland? If I were truly honest I would also tell you that though I am a teetotaler, I would like several cases of cerveza to wash the whole thing down. I will instead settle for a great big Coke, the kind from Mexico (because it is so sweet and gives you instant diabetes), with lots of ice.

It’s a funny thing about change. First, life changes, then it lets you know and you get to catch up. I guess Life is letting me know and I am certainly playing catch-up. On the other hand, even if I cannot see the destination, it is both exciting and daunting to be on another journey, though I prefer to think of it as my new E Ticket ride.

I used to live in a small Rust Belt town and about seven years ago we moved to the Southwest. This was a great move altogether as it gave me an opportunity to heal a lot of old emotional wounds. Before I left, however, I asked each of my friends for two recipes with the intention of making them into a kind of fancy recipe card book. As I made a card for each recipe, I thought about the friend who had given me the recipe and what she meant to me. Even though we were separated by thousands of miles of blacktop and Lord knows what else, we were not separated in heart. I tried to represent each friend in some small way in each card.

These cards were a pleasure to design and construct and today it is my pleasure to share them and the instructions on how to make them with you. I will post twice a week with a new thought and a new recipe card for six weeks. At that time, I will evaluate this blogging thing to see if I should continue to post. I hope you will accompany me on this new ride I seem to have boarded.  I know I already feel better having given out the invitation.

Guacamole:

The thing to remember is each card presented begins with a six-inch piece of cardstock. I used Bazzill brand when possible, mostly because I like the textures they offer.

My Aunt Chelo gave me this recipe for guacamole. She told me the secret to good guac is to dice everything small.

I used a real avocado and pit for the pattern and listed it in my card ingredients, but you do not have to if you do not want to. I’m just not good drawing freehand. Also, although I will tell you what colors I used, they will not be the real names and anyway, you should feel free to use the colors you like.

Use the usual card-making tools such as paper cutters, adhesives, and punches. I used a punch that made a little gecko lizard for this card. In another card that will come next week, I used one that made a high heel. You can also use a sticker or any of those die cutting machines.

Here are my directions:

Card Ingredients:

1 avocado, sliced in two

1 avocado pit

1 12- x 12-inch sheet of off-white cardstock, cut into these sizes:  6- by 6-inches and 4¾- by 4⅛-inches

1 8½- by 11-inch sheet of brown cardstock, cut into these sizes:  5- by 5⅝-inches, ½- by 4⅜-inches, and ½-inch square

1 8½- by 11-inch sheet of velum, the cutting comes later

A scrap of green cardstock, the color of avocado

A scrap of yellow-green cardstock, the color of avocado meat

Off-white lettering to match the foundation cardstock, about ⅜-inch high

2 brown brads

A die-cut lizard, about ⅝-inches long

From the picture you can see how the cardstock is laid out.

To print the guacamole recipe, I used size 10 font, Comic Sans MS. Make sure you set the margins so the recipe will fit when you cut the velum to 4¾- by 4⅛-inches. 

Here’s the recipe:

1 clove garlic, minced

¼ onion, chopped small

¼ to ½ tomato, chopped small

1 tablespoon cilantro, minced

1 teaspoon more or less, canned, chopped jalapeño (Be careful; it’s hot)

Salt to taste

1 fairly ripe avocado (still a little firm to the touch)

Combine the first six ingredients in a plastic or glass bowl.

Cut the avocado in half longwise and remove the pit. While still in the skin, carefully cut the meat of the avocado with a knife, being careful not to cut through the skin. Scoop out the meat, which will be in little rectangles, and combine with the chopped vegetables. Chill for one hour.

If you got to the end of this entry, I promise: the next entry will not be nearly this long (I hope).