July 30, 2008

Dear Tarzana Fireman,

I want to thank you for saving my life last Monday night. We could not make it to the hospital because it was during high traffic hours and the last thing I remember saying was, “ Take me to the Fire Station.” It worked.
I have searched the English Language for words to better describe thank you and I cannot find any others. So, I thank you.

For nearly forty years I have driven by your station with respect. Now and forever, I will drive by with reverence, love, admiration and great appreciation.

I have put together some items for you that represent some of my favorite things to eat. I hope some of them are yours as well, or perhaps they will become a favorite. I have also enclosed several copies of my most recently published book, which by the way just won an award.

I thought this would be an easy letter to write, but it is the hardest. I do want to say that I was not and am not done with my life and want to continue in the realm of service and a lot of paying back. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to continue with my work and in the last few days I have looked at the world differently. It is so much brighter, more beautiful that ever, people are more understandable and it is as if a crystalline wall has been lifted. I am grateful, thankful and indebted to all of you.

Sincerely with respect and gratitude,

Sheila Clapkin

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The Benny Hinn Ministries have been hounding me and I call it harassment. They call about three or four times a week. When you answer the phone there is an elongated taped message. I am by no means opposed to the ministries, just opposed to harassment.

I called the phone company to ask if they would block the ministries phone number and they said it is a 6 dollar a month charge to block that number. I said that I pay a fortune already for your service and I want you to protect me. So, the operator reluctantly said she thought she would listen to the tape to see if she can help in another way. She asked me to hold on.

The operator came back on the line and said she listened to the tape. She also said there was a number the ministries give you to call at the end of the tape to set up an appointment. I took the number down and put it in my top right kitchen drawer, my catchall drawer.

So, Benny Hinn called again today and this time I listened. Sure enough they gave a number where I could reach them. I called the number. I begged the lady to stop calling my number and to take my name and number off of their calling lists. She asked if I was Alberta Hercules. I said, “No but that is our cleaning lady.” Now I know how they got my name in the first place. I said again, “ You HAVE to stop calling here. She was very polite throughout our conversation and said she would take my number off, but I had to tell her my name. So I did. I said, “My name is Mrs. Hinn.” She stuttered and was silent and then said, “Well, Mrs. Hinn, will you give me your address?” I said, “Which one do you have listed?” She gave me an address downtown L.A. I said, “Fine, that’s it.” I thought to myself, am not about to give her my name and address as I imagined the printed parade of Benny Hinn paperwork coming into my mailbox. The woman on the phone at the Benny Hinn Ministries finally ended with, “Have a Nice day Mrs. Hinn” I haven’t stopped laughing, but time will tell if they stop the harassment.

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My Labor Intensive Dinner Party

I know many of you will relate and some will not. The ones who will not relate do not cook and the ones that do, cook.

We have a dinner date for this evening and I thought, well, I am not particularly busy, so I will prepare dinner. I made a deal with myself. No bought prepared items. All of this dinner would be from scratch. Okay, here we go. I baked bread from a friendship starter which I take half of and replenish the starter with milk, flour and sugar, then continue making the bread. I made that first to give it ample time to rise. Then I started with hors-de-vors. I made egg salad, which turned out especially good. Then, I pitted and pealed avocados and made homemade guacamole. I ground up chickpeas, oil and spices and there was a creamy, deep tasting humus. Now I am on a strict schedule so that the guacamole will not darken. Lemon juice is a good deterrent, but time is still of the essence. I have the French Onion soup already made. I toasted the bread rounds, place them on top with cheese, thickly placed. They are put on trays to brown under the broiler for a few minutes.

The lobster is boiled and it only takes a few minutes. They are ready to be shelled. The veggies have been chopped and all of the fresh herbs are chopped as well. Bell peppers, carrot slivers and onions are chopped and put in the wok ready to be sizzled. Oil is drizzled and cooking begins. As this mixture is stirred, I add curry and special secret spices from distant lands. I locate my secret sauce (yogurt, various grated cheeses, sherry, white wine, curry, and anything I find I might like to add). I shell the lobster and cut up a chicken breast from last night to be added at the last moment to the mixture. This is a lobster/chicken, curry sauce extraordinaire, usually and hopefully for tonight.

I scurry to set the table with beautiful glistening glasses, leather placemats, fluffy napkins, my every day dishes with a gold charger, modern silver settings, I add a dramatic two tiered dish, low enough for a centerpiece filled with yellow and orange fruit. I dangle a few cherries for drama. I have cut dramatic leaves from the garden to strategically place and the table looks beautiful.

I run back and forth stirring, placing and re-placing. I start water for Pasta. If I cook it a little bit ahead of time I can re-warm it with the sauce or if necessary nuke it for a minute. I pull off of the top shelf some dainty little bowls I brought back from Japan. I have several homemade cakes not finished that are great for an evening like this one. The dessert I have planned that I will put together last minute before serving will be tiny squares cut of each cake. I have cooked apples as you do in apple pie only I do not have the crust. Delicious. Anyhow, I will place several spoonfuls of the apples on top of the little cakes, drizzle caramel sauce over the lot and then top with a dollop of whipped cream. On top of the whipped cream there will be a dot of plum jam I made Friday with plums from our tree.

The guests are parking their car. I have to dash.

After the party: I have had a chance to realize that the wine and hors de vors were wonderful. The soup drenched in flavor and cheese was a treat. The lobster and chicken breast over pasta tasted so well, actually one guest had tears in her eyes because she said it tasted so good. It was good to have a little mound of fresh fruit compote next to the lobster, chicken sauce over pasta to help sooth the spices. I had tears in my eyes, too. The homemade bread was fantastic. Butter from Challenge. Now let me discuss the dessert. Skip tasted it before all the extras were added and he said, “Not good enough.” What happened after the apples, caramel sauce and whipped cream with a dot of plum jam was added? Legendary.

What can I say except, bravo? What I can also say is that it is labor intensive coming, during and going. It has to be a labor of love because you cannot pay me enough to stand up all day and all night to make this dinner. I must add that it was nice to be able to talk and not have to yell to be heard. It was nice not to wait for a table. It was totally nice not to have to pay the check, nice not to worry about valet parking, nice to visit, go from room to room and have the freedom to enjoy our meal at our own pace, not one set up for maximum seating at our table throughout the night.

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I spent two days in the hospital recovering from Anaphylactic shock.
This is all new to me. Fifteen minutes after I took my last Keflex pill, I started to go down. I was also peeling apples for a pie and maybe there was some pesticide on them, but I don’t know. My hands and feet started to itch. Before the itch I popped an anti inflammatory pill which has always been fine. Was it one thing? Was it the combination? Am I too much of a pill popper? Yeap. Whatever it was, it took me down.

Any four year old knows how to call 911, and I did not. I asked Skip to take me to the hospital because something really bad was happening. Half way down the hill I realized I was not going to make it. A picture of the fire station, which is just at the end of our hill flashed into my mind and the last thing I said was, “ I am having a stroke, I am going blind, I won’t make it to Kaiser, take me to the fires station.” For the second time in our long relationship he listened to me, and it is a good thing, too.

I don’t remember anything, but I was told that they dragged me out of the car, put a blanket on the station floor and got me going. Even in my state of shock, I opened my eyes to a group of the most adorable men on earth. Those pictures of the firemen’s calendars popped into my head and I had an internal smile. These guys huddled around me were better than any calendar I have ever seen. WOW. Now I do digress. After stabilizing me a bit more, they transferred me to the nearest hospital. I stayed there for about 6 h ours and then, they transferred me to Kaiser because I am a Kaiser member. Kaiser further treated me and then sent me home with continued steroids. I now understand the lure of steroids. When taking them, every pain ever known disappears and you feel like brand new. I only have a three-day supply, so I should enjoy the next few days of pain free living.

You would think I would never want to go into a fire station again, but it is a funny thing, I have now become fixated with fire stations, fire trucks and firemen. I am like a 5 year old. I am going to fire station #93 this afternoon with two great big bags full of goodies I have bought which represent some of my favorite eatables. I do want to thank them for saving my life and show them that they are greatly appreciated.

I now will have to take my epipen wherever I go according to the doctor. It is a pen that gives an epinephrine dose when punctured into the thigh. I think this is to help the shock and give you more time to get help. I am pretty sure you can die from an Anaphylactic shock episode. I know I almost did.

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