The heavy rain woke me up and as I lay there listening to it pounding our tin roof, I thought about how it used to be. Like everyone we knew, there was a little building out back at the end of the well worn path. The outhouse stood there in its regal majesty. It had importance and knew it.

Do you like bananas? I do and so does my daughter Anne. Since she does our grocery shopping nowadays, she has a method of choosing which bananas to buy. We have a friend from the Philippines who taught us how to select the best banana. She looks for bananas with thick fat ends, not pointy ones. She is right. There is more banana hiding behind the peel. She says they have a better flavor, too.

My mother could put together a soup even when there didn't seem to be enough food in the house to make a meal. I grew up on soup, especially in the winter time. With a little meat to season it and the vegetables we had on hand, she could make a hearty soup for not much money. Cornbread goes well with most soups and goes well with this one.

We spent the night at that hilltop motel on U. S. 44 near St. Louis, Missouri. The next day my car was delivered back to the motel. They said the carburetor was packed with fibers. They didn't know where they came from. Removed, the car was ready for the trip back home. Since the car was still under warranty, there was no charge.

When I was in charge of my household, when I could get around better, when I was still driving, I tried to keep a well stocked pantry. It was too well stocked according to my daughter, Anne. I didn't shop every week. Once a month was more like it, when I got my Social Security check at the first of the month. Oh, yes we would run out of bread and milk, but that was about it.

The year was 1981. My nephew, Chris Bouldry, had been attending Bible College in Springfield, Missouri. He came home for the Christmas holidays and decided not to return to school. That left one problem. He needed to retrieve his possessions from his room there. The second problem was how to make the trip. He didn't have a car or any money.

The Olive Garden is our favorite restaurant. A few years ago we celebrated my eighty-ninth and half birthday in July. (When you approach ninety, every day is a luxury.) We had an Alfredo dish. My daughter Anne had chicken and I had shrimp. We decided we could make a recipe at home that tasted just as good.

A while back I gave a recipe for ham loaf. There are a couple other things I do with ground cooked ham. One is ham and potato cakes. The other is Ham Patties with Sour Cream. Why am I offering them now?

The year was 1942. The place was Junior High School. I was in the ninth grade. There was another English teacher giving me fits. She had the painful habit of poking her forefinger in that depression at the base of your neck. You know, where your collarbones meet in the middle.

I have been hungry for cookies lately. Today I broke down and made some. They were from an old cookbook I found somewhere or other. What a disappointment. I have many tried and true recipes that turn out fine every time. Why, oh why, do I continue looking for new ones. Anne reminds me of that fact every time I have a cooking disaster.