Since most of my mom's recipes are all in her head and she "eyeballs" most of the ingredients, it was hard to get one from her that she can actually give me precise measurements, but I think I found one. I hope you enjoy it as much as my family does.
|Photo Courtesy of PD Douglas Pixabay|
1 med size raw onion or one med - lg leek, green onions may also be used
3 to 4 stalks celery, chopped fine (some leaves are good)
2-3 cups of milk
2 tbsp. oleo or butter
Peel and cut the potatoes into approximately ¼ inch cubes.
Add them in a large kettle, along with the onion or leek and celery. Cover with enough water to be visible at the top of potatoes. (Do not completely cover with water.) Boil until potatoes are tender and slightly mushy.
Add just enough milk to make the soup a consistency of your choice.
Add oleo or butter.
Heat only until liquid appears ready to boil. Do not let this soup boil.
Place in soup bowls and enjoy!
Get comfy and enjoy a little from my latest release.
“When a train runs over a penny, the penny changes form, but it can still be a penny if I want it to be. Or, I can make it be something else.”
Lyssa and her best friend Abbey discover a hideout near the train tracks and spend the summer before sixth grade hanging out and finding freedom from issues at home. Their childhood innocence shatters when the hideout becomes the scene of a tragic death.
As they’re about to graduate from high school, Abbey’s family life spirals out of control while Lyssa is feeling guilty for deceiving Abbey about her sexuality. After another tragic loss, Lyssa finds out that a penny on the track is sometimes a huge price to pay for the truth.
I was jerked from my sleep while the phone was still buzzing its first high-piercing ring. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside my bed. It read 4:17 a.m. I knew something was wrong.
The second ring was abruptly broken up and my mother’s muffled voice carried into my room. I was already sitting upright in my bed when my bedroom door squeaked open. My mother’s slight figure appeared as a shadow near my door.
“Lyssa? You up?” she asked.
“What’s wrong?” My voice was no louder than a whisper.
I watched my mother slowly make her way into the dark room. I couldn’t make out the expression on her face, but the stiff movement of the outline of her body was hesitant.
She turned on the lamp and sat down beside me. Her face was pale. She let out short, shallow breaths. It seemed difficult for her to look me in the eyes.
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s happened?”
Finally, my mother looked at me with pain in her eyes. “Lyssa . . .” She smoothed her hand gently across my arm. “Abbey’s dead.”
I took in her words without an ounce of denial. The reality of what my mother had told me was instant.
My best friend was dead.
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Alicia Joseph grew up in Westchester, Illinois. She has many works-in-progress that she hopes to finish soon. Life permitting.
When she is not writing, Alicia enjoys volunteering with animals, rooting for her favorite sports teams, and playing “awesome aunt” to her nine nieces and nephews.
Learn more about Alicia Joseph on her blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter.