The One Where We Exchanged Phone Numbers

I don’t know if you know this about me, but I have never been much of a hugger. Hugging is a personal thing to me. Really, physical contact of any kind is pretty personal. I maintain my personal space most of the time. Hugging is generally reserved for people for whom I feel genuine love and affection. But over the past few years, I have had to adapt to hugging culture, and decide that I have some degree of love and affection for more people than I had previously thought. Therefore, more hugs. Although, in all fairness, I have noticed that hugs are not “one size fits all.” There are many different kinds of hugs. Where am I going with this? Well, twice in two days I have gotten hugs from perfect strangers. Because of my new CD. So, good story:

I spent the evening stuffing padded envelopes and boxes with CDs for mailing, and then sticking labels on. I loaded all the CD orders in a huge box, and at 9:00 a.m. I drove down to the little post office in the canyon. I knew that my fifty parcels were going to take awhile to process, so as a little thank you I took along one of the CDs. It took about thirty minutes to post them all, and about halfway through the postal employee was admiring the artwork on the mailing labels, which is the same as the CD cover. I told her thank you, and that I had brought her a CD.

She was so excited that she opened it up and actually kissed my picture on the inside of the label:). She insisted that she would be playing my CD and showing it to everyone who came in. She called it her “marketing program.” She took me into the back room (I have never been in the back room of a post office before), showed me a bunch of options for free packaging and loaded me up with samples. She instructed me that on my next batch of mailing, I was to call her and make an appointment for a “secret meeting” a half hour before the post office opens. We exchanged phone numbers, and then a hug. I can say with perfect certainty that it was the most warm and friendly postal experience I have ever had. And the hug thing… second time in two days. I think this is going to be an interesting week.

By the way... the photo was taken near the Trabuco Canyon post office in 1969. And it still looks just like that.

The One Where My Boys Strike Back

Well, my last post was pretty hard on boys… at least one in particular. The fact is, I feel a little sorry for Cowboy. He used an unfortunate analogy and almost certainly regrets it. Don’t get me wrong… he should regret it. But I have to play devil’s advocate here and write one for the boys. As it happens, I usually take the boys’ side in everything. Maybe that is just an occupational hazard for a mother of six sons… not to mention the fact that I have so many other friends who happen to be boys/men… like all the missionaries who have lived in our home... and I think of them all as my boys. In fact, when I was called to be the teacher for the 16-18 year-old girls in my church for three years, I was a little shocked, and more than a little worried. I wasn’t sure I would be able to like them all that much. I had never had much use for girls. On the whole, they seemed much louder, meaner and more sophisticated (in a bad way) than boys.

To my happy surprise, I loved the girls. They were beautiful, unselfish and fun, and they have become some of my best friends. That was a nice thing to discover, especially as my own boys were reaching the age where they have begun to marry. My oldest son picked one of the best ones I have ever met, and married her. That is certainly an encouraging start, right? So, back to my boys… all of them, whether my sons or not. If the girls deserve a boy who is willing to climb to the top of the tree, what do my boys deserve? More than they are getting, in a lot of cases, I’m afraid. When they call to tell me their dating experiences, I am constantly dismayed by what girls put them through. It is bad enough that girls play mind games with each other, but as boys usually are more straightforward in their interactions, it is most unfair to play mind games with them. Many of them are not equipped for that sport, and the good ones don’t want to play.

Here is what my boys deserve:

1. A girl who is beautiful. But beautiful in the right way… a girl who is unfailingly modest in dress, speech and actions. One of the standards of my church is to dress modestly… something that most of the world thinks is rather strange. But my boys deserve nothing less. Whether you see her at the beach, at church, shopping, or just on Facebook, she should be modest. Let me be clear here… this is not because I don’t want the boys to think bad thoughts. My boys can master their thoughts. It is something much more important… it marks a commitment to covenants they have made. And no double standards either... my boys are modest themselves. When my daughter Cambria was about two, she was pointing out swimsuits that she thought were “pretty.” I told her they weren’t very modest, and I asked her if she knew what modest meant. She very smugly told me, “Yes. It means ugly.” We laughed about that for days, but I am here to tell you that it does not mean ugly. I am a big fan of beautiful, stylish modesty. It is really easy to say that most of the girls wear their skirts too short and their swimsuits too tiny, so you can’t judge a girl by that standard. But I know girls who are unfailingly modest. They stand out like a bright light from the girls who are not… and my boys deserve nothing less than that.

2. A girl who is honest. No ex-boyfriends that aren’t really ex. No saying things she doesn’t mean. No pretending to feel more or less than she really does. No treating my boys like a plaything. Honest.

3. A girl who is unselfish. She needs to care more about others than herself, because that is how my boys are. I have worried, in the affluent area where I live, that DK and I have spent the last twenty years raising sons who can support a family, while my neighbors have spent the same years raising daughters that my boys can never possibly afford to marry. My boys are not just finding a girl to marry; they are finding a mother for their children, and that is about a hundred times more important.

4. A girl who is kind. She must be kind to her friends, kind to her family, kind to children, and… kind to my boys.

5. A girl who is better than my boys. Or at least they think she is. She needs to be so amazing, that they behave better around her. They try harder, and reach bigger goals, because she makes them want to be better men. She safeguards their virtue along with her own. She reminds them of how great they are, encourages them, sets a good example, and yet still follows wise counsel. Every one of my boys deserves a girl who is better than they are.

So come on, girls. It’s time to step it up a little. Be more to get more. I told you the apple analogy. You can never be that rotten apple sitting on the ground waiting for any lazy boy to scoop you up and take a bite. You are better than that. My boys are better than that. You might wonder how you can compete in a world of girls who use tricks and sexy clothes to get their way. Don’t think for a single minute that my boys can’t tell the difference. Yes, there are boys that are looking for those girls. But I will tell you right now… not my boys.

The One With Lindsay and the Cowboy

So I met this cute girl named Lindsay. Friend of a friend. Being the immature person that I am, I find that many of my friends are younger, and in the dating years. Lindsay told me about her conversation with a boy today. He is 20, and will be leaving on a two-year church mission in a few months, and they had the following conversation (to the best of my recollection):

Lindsay: I am happy to go out on dates with you, but I have a feeling you are more into it than I am. (translation: I think of you as a friend)

Cowboy: Well, Lindsay, this is how it is for me: I am leaving on a mission soon (where there will be no more dating of girls), and basically I am just out to get what I can. I am trying to “fill up my canteen,” so to speak.

Wait a sec...did you really just say fill up your canteen???
I am still trying to wrap my brain around his choice of analogy... not to mention the intention behind it. There are a lot of canteens in the world, Lindsay. Fortunately you are smart and good enough to know that you don’t need to provide a watering hole for every random ridiculous cowboy out there.

This is one of my favorite quotes: “Girls are like apples...the best ones are at the top of the trees. The boys don’t want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples that are on the ground that aren’t as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think there is something wrong with them, when, in reality, they are amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who’s brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree...”

Lindsay is definitely at the top of the tree. When one of those boys cares enough to climb up, then he is worth looking at. All the better if he leaves his canteen on the ground so that he can climb better.

The One Where She Killed the Car Battery

So I don't have a decent CD player. Most of the time I don’t care. I have perfectly awesome M-Audio monitor speakers connected to my computer, and so listening to music in here is great. But I finally mastered a finished CD today. Yes, I met my deadline that I set myself a couple of months ago, and DK and I spent much of the day finishing up the artwork that will grace the CD itself, as well as the jewel case insert, etc.

And I was all proud of my CD... particularly because I made something of a breakthrough in the quality of the mastered CD and was pretty much dying to listen to it. Sort of like when you get new clothes that you love, and you keep wanting to try them on? Well, no CD player in the house. BUT my Suburban has a really nice Bose sound system. Hmm. It also has a battery that has seen better days. So tonight I sneaked out to the car, and listened to the CD in there. I turned on the engine every ten minutes or so to recharge the battery so that I could get through all the songs. At one point DK came out and asked, “Aren’t you afraid you will run the battery down?” and I smugly answered, “No.” Well, not five minutes later I went to turn on the engine and... CLICK. I tried again. CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK. Dang it. Don’t tell DK but I ran the battery down in the car.

The One Where Her Bloggiversary Came... and Went

I have clearly been in need of a makeover... and I’m not just talking about the blog, here. I have let a few things slide. This is the least amount of sleep I have gotten since I had newborn babies... I guess my CD is aptly named. My deadline to finish all the music for the CD is Friday. I have every intention of making that, even if it means I let everything else go. I have been a pretty lame wife, mother, friend, primary teacher, housekeeper, laundress... and the list goes on. So four more days aren’t going to matter.

And I realized that my one-year mark for this blog... it came and went a couple of days ago. Ah, well... I will write something profound another day. I’ve got nothing. Not this week. This week I am wavering between tears (Oh! go listen to the song I just put up on the other blog, right here. Look at the painting, and read the words. I couldn’t even get through it without getting teary-eyed, and I wrote it!) and... anyway, wavering between tears and, well, a little bit of naughtiness... I keep thinking of interesting prank ideas. Today is DK’s birthday, and he is not a fan of pranks. So I will refrain. For today. But if, tomorrow, you find your shoes glued to the floor, or your Facebook hacked with a picture of a gigantic fat guy as your profile pic, or 5,000 plastic forks stuck in your front lawn... you will know it is just me, blowing off a little steam.

P.S. As for the blog, I know it really does need a makeover... the mp3 player doesn’t currently work, and next week when I have a little time, I will make it so you can listen to music on this blog again. For now, enjoy a little navidad over at “All About the Baby.” xo

The One With Jif in the Skeleton Costume

Okay, seriously, now... how cute is my grandson? (and my daughter-in-law the pirate is pretty cute, too). Well, Saturday morning my son Skippy (who is six) came and woke me up. He had tears in his eyes, and he told me how disappointed he was that we didn’t put up our Halloween decorations. The main problem is that we have this really adorable Halloween advent calendar from Pottery Barn Kids from a couple years back, where last year I left treats, cars, little mini skateboards, notes and such... and here we are at the 25th of October, and we haven’t even hung it on the wall. So guess what... yup. I got out the Halloween decorations. And my house is pretty much a disaster. But Skippy... he is happy. So it was worth it, right? Say right. Now I need to come up with something to put in the remaining advent pockets. And quickly.

One last thing... the shameless plug. Please please please go over and check out the Christmas blog. I just added a new song, and I will add another tomorrow. If you haven’t purchased your CDs, hurry hurry! They will be shipping out in just over two weeks to everyone who pre-orders. And when you go over, leave some comment love! I start to think I am the Lone Ranger.

The One Where She Can’t Figure it Out

Okay, so... fellow bloggers help me out here... I can’t fix my Christmas blog. Despite everything I have tried, it keeps putting all the items that belong in the sidebar (gadgets, profile, followers, etc...) at the bottom of the blog! I tried removing my third-party background. That didn’t help. I changed the template, and changed it back. Nothing. I am using the same template (Minima Lefty) that I use for this blog, and this one is not having any problems. Does anyone have a fix for me? It has been like this for about three days, and it is seriously driving me nuts.

Here is the link to go look:


Oh, and while you are there, listen to the sneak peeks of music for the new CD I have on there. And for goodness sakes, leave me a comment or two! Let me know if you can figure out my problem... (and I am talking about the blog problem... I’m just saying...)

Okay... I give up. As soon as I posted this, the problem FIXED itself. I don’t understand... but I’ll take it. If you know why I am having this issue, you can still let me know! And go enjoy the new song I just put up.... there are three now!

The One Where She Found Poison in the Pantry

Guest poster - ah ha! Shouldn't have told you I was an im-poster. (Pun intended) Actually, I come from a land far far away. So don't even try to come chase me down if you don't like this one :)

(Wow this is really hard messing with someone else's blog - I'm sure there are a gazillion mistakes here somewhere . . . )


Today I received the following email in my box -

Check the expiration dates on your mixes with yeast! Read on...


Cake Mixes & Toxins- **PLEASE READ **Poison


This is confirmed on Snopes http://www.snopes.com/medical/toxins/pancake.asp


A student at HBHS (high school) had pancakes this week and it almost became fatal. His Mom (registered nurse) made him pancakes, dropped him off at school and headed to play tennis. She never takes her cell phone on the court but did this time and her son called to say he was having trouble breathing. She told him to go to the nurse immediately and proceeded to call school and alert the nurse. The nurse called the paramedics and they were there in 3 minutes and worked on the boy all the way to the hospital. He came so close to dying. Evidently this is more common then I ever knew. Check the expiration dates on packages like pancakes and cake mixes that have yeast which over time develop spores. Apparently, the mold that forms in old mixes can be toxic! Throw away ALL OUTDATED pancake mix, brownie mixes, Bisquick, cake & cookie mixes, etc., you have in your home.


P.S. Tell this to your children, grandchildren, nephews, nieces and anyone else who keeps these types of mixes in the cupboard.



Well, me, ever the sceptic and keeper of almost any pantry item as long as I'm still using it (if you can extend that concept of 'use' to like - yes, I'm pretty sure I did use that at least once this last year, hmmmm. . . better keep it).



I was sceptical, after all I also am an RN, and I've never heard of such a thing. I made my way over to Snopes.com, the ultimate documentary and researcher of all things such as urban legends, common fallacies, misinformation, old wives' tales, strange news stories, rumors, celebrity gossip, and similar items. I just wanted to see with my own eyes what Snoopy at Snopes had to say about it . . .

Apparently it is not a totally unfounded claim . . . .

Snopes article "Flapjack Flap" originated back in 2006 with a letter written to "Dear Abby" that contains a story similar to the one shared above. Dear Abby's response that became widely circulated was

"Thank you for the warning, I certainly was not aware that pancake mix could turn moldy and cause an allergic reaction in someone with an allergy to mold - but it's logical. I wonder if the same holds true for cake mix, brownie mix and cookie mix. If so, then a warning should be placed on the box for people like me. We hear so often about discarding prescriptions and over-the-counter medications after their expiration dates, but I don't recall warnings about packaged items in the pantry. Heads up folks!"

After investigation, Snoopy at Snopes decided that while there is truth in this tale; the inherent warning is overblown.

It is possible for someone who chows down on pancake mix that has sat around for too long to suffer a potentially fatal anaphylactic reaction to the molds that have grown therein, and a resultant death has been documented. It is also true that there is nothing inherently toxic about pancake mix that has past it's freshness date. It's not like Cinderella, transforming immediately from good to poison as the clock strikes midnight. Nor does the growth of mold in a package fell all who consume it, only those who have allergies to mold are at risk, and again, the package must actually contain mold spores, not just be "over the hill".

Also keep in mind, for mold to gain access to a food product, the foodstuff has to actually be exposed to its spores. Mixes sealed in wax paper, foil, or plastic within its outer packaging would not have this contact and still should be safe no matter the age of the product. However, a mix sold in cardboard boxes, or paper sacks would be at risk due to the lack of a moisture barrier surrounding the mix, and mold thrives in a damp environment.

So what exactly IS the bottom line to all this: If you don't have allergies to mold, you're quite safe! You needn't fear the pancake, cake or brownie mix. If you do have allergies to mold, you shouldn't keep your flapjack makings around for a couple years after opening the box or pouch it came in. It's not worth dying over 50 cents worth of pancake mix. So when in doubt - throw it out!

Oh dear, even though we have no allergies to mold in our household, it sure wouldn't hurt to go through my pantry. Now might be a pretty good time to be like Old Mother Hubbard with nothing in the cupboard!

aka - Kristin, "One Day at a Time - Alpine Klein Bunch"

Get some sleep Victoria!

The One Where She Hasn’t Been Sleeping Enough

... which is, I am sure, the reason I had this horrible awful idea. What if you just kept updating the time and date stamp on your blog post, so that it would keep appearing at the top on everyone’s chronological blog lists? I know... right? And that, my friends, is why I am not blogging here this week. So, who’s up next? Can’t wait to see.

{The One Where She Learned To Be A Better Friend}

Hello - Cherie from Bakow Babble guest posting here today. Victoria and I are bloggy friends - but amazingly enough we both have sons at BYU and they have met - Go figure! I love this woman - she is talented, spiritual, beautiful, an amazing mom/missionary mom, cook and if you didn't know, keep scrolling down because, she has incredible musical talent as well! AND you have the opportunity to get her new CD - You are one of the first to know because you are here!!

My topic today has nothing to do with that though, it is about becoming a better friend through food, or rather the lack of it!

This has been troubling me for some time.

There's nothing worse than looking in the mirror three quarters of the way through your day and seeing some huge shredded piece of green nastiness lodged between your two front teeth. You think, "For the love of all that is holy, how long has THAT been there?!"

You begin recounting the events of your day - all the people you've had face-to-face conversations with.
Why did they stay silent? Surely they saw it. You think, "Good grief, if I'd sat any closer to them they could have taken a bite of it!"
How could they let me just keep on about my day without telling me that there's an entire crop of romaine lettuce protruding from my face?
People.....
Please.....
Friends don't let friends walk around with food in their teeth.
So the next time you seem some poor, clueless person walking around with a vegetable garden sprouting from their two front teeth, do the right thing and tell them about it.

The One With The Bread Of Life....

....never 'tasted' so good!

We were finishing up dinner dishes and getting ready for Family Night. The phone rings:

Officer Davidson: Is this the Duffy's?
Me: Yes.
Officer D: I have a Kevin Mc. here at the gate.
Me: (surprised because we weren't expecting anyone). Oh. Okay.

Doorbell dings a few minutes later. It is Kevin and Liam with 2 loaves of hot bread right out of the oven! Victoria is a master with homemade bread. She doesn't buy bread anymore. How did she know? That bread was family night treats with butter and honey and jam. With all my extra family here on Wrightwood fire evacuation it hit the spot and gave lots of comfort.

Loving service is the example of He who is the true Bread of Life!

(p.s.Love You!)

The One With the $22 Bread

In my opinion, nothing is going to top DK’s post from yesterday... I am pretty excited about pre-selling my CDs. And make no mistake: I have been hard at work. It is 1:07 a.m. and yes, I am still at it. I had four different singers over today to record, and now I am trying to make it all work together. With varying degrees of success. If you haven’t ordered your CDs yet, go down a post and click the link. It is super fun! And don’t forget to check out my “All About the Baby” blog. I am going to put up another song tomorrow (okay, well... today, I guess it is), so there are some sneak peeks.

But tonight I am stopping for a moment to ponder where my bread is. I am going to guess somewhere in the air over the midwest. I did not have time to make a package today, but one of my boys was in need of bread. It happened to be Ethan, in Virginia. He pointed out that I have never (not once) sent him a package, and that furthermore the chow hall at the Naval Base does not even try to approximate home cooking. That is sad, but true. What he really wanted was homemade bread. Homemade bread is less delectable after three or four (or six) days. So I made the bread... all white, as per request. Sliced it, bagged it, and headed over to Fedex with two very soft, fresh loaves. There the Fedex employee who saw me cramming the loaves into one of those three-inch high Fedex boxes was very offended. She yelled across the room: Stop! You’re squishing that bread! She insisted on finding me an larger box and padding the bread so that it would arrive fluffy instead of a compressed ball of dough.

The package... it wasn’t my best work. A quickly typed letter from Mom, a Nightmare Before Christmas CD, the bread, and a well bubble-wrapped jar of homemade jam. But it was the best I could do today. Or this week. Or this month. And I couldn’t help but think: Two loaves of homemade white bread: 50 cents. Fedex standard overnight shipping: $22. A package from home: Priceless.

The one where the CD store opens

DK here as a guest blogger. I’ve got big news! The day has come. Victoria now has a storefront for pre-order of her first, published CD. She has been working long hours to get the ducks in a row. You can check it out (literally) at VixMusic.ecrater.com.

Guest artists have travelled great distances (some, thousands of miles)--thanks Ric and Garry and others. Tandy and Stephanie were in the studio this morning; Ric, until late last night. Cupcake is laying down tracks like crazy. It’s all very exciting. BTW, the CD will have 4 traditional numbers and 10 of Victoria’s new compositions.

So check out the other blog VixChristmasMusic for the ongoing story of the CD and the production of the music.

Several people have expressed a desire to order several CDs for special Christmas gifts e for friends, family, even work associates. The music has a special quality that is just filled with the Spirit. Here’s the thing: the production run will be limited. Once they are gone, they are gone. The first run will be available in plenty of time for holiday gift-giving.

I hope that friends from all over find this to be a delightful addition to their holidays. Check back to this blog to hear occasional postings of new songs as they are completed. Follow the story at VixChristmasMusic. For those who want the actual CDs, order early. They will be shipping just as soon as they are published.

You can’t believe the work it takes to prepare music for publication. But I think you’ll agree with me, it is worth it. And when you’re ready, give the new storefront a try. VixMusic

DK-out. )

The one titled 'Non-perishable.'

The puddle on my kitchen floor kept growing and growing.

The kids thought Christmas came early to the back of our freezer. “Snow. It’s snow.” Jax said.

Five bath towels and two days later the glacier in my freezer is gone.

I’m hoping for a week of worry-free cooling bliss. A week where I don’t have to use frozen pureed tomatoes to keep my goat’s milk cold. A week where I don’t have to take the temperature of my food like it was a sick child, hoping it’s internal temperature is just right.
The repairman will be coming in a week for his 4th visit. We’re getting quite well acquainted at this point.

A month ago I noticed my normally icy cold milk was a bit tepid. Mmmm? I opened the freezer. Bags of hamburger were squishy and crunchy with melting shards of ice.
 

Hold on. (I’m baking sweet potato oatmeal chocolate chip cookies; the secret is not the potato but the duck eggs. Cookies...no refrigeration required. Good for emergency fridge breakdowns. We’re having cookies for dinner. Don’t judge me.)

Ok back to the great thaw.

I called Sears.  I was sweet as honey on the phone. Honey is the best way to get what you want if you are a woman and you live in the south. I’m not being sexist, just a practical housewife with a fridge on the fritz. They said the repairman only came ‘up my way’ once a week. Thursday.

Fine. Fine.

He comes. “You need a new thermostat.” He says.

“Ok, I say. How much?”

“$258.98” He says.

Gulp. “Ok.” My hand shook a little as I was writing out the check.

“I don’t have the part with me. I’ll be back next Thursday.” He said.

Thursday.

I can survive until Thursday. Cinnamon rolls and candy caramels. All nonperishable. I will survive.

The part was installed. The milk was still tepid. There’s nothing less appetizing than tepid milk. Even sweet goat’s milk, not so tasty at room temperature. We had fries for dinner. The kids thought they’d won the lottery.

I called. “He’ll be back out on Thursday, ma’m. I’m sorry ma’m.” Sears said.

Thursday.

“It’ll be $123 to fix the automatic defrost. The other technician should have noticed this glacier here. If you defrost it, it may work for a few days.”

“I have to pay again even though the first guy didn’t fix it?”

“I don’t know you’ll have to call.”

15 calls, 3 hours, and 5 days later.  (I repeated my name address and phone number over and over and over again. Each time I got put on hold, or transferred, or told I would be called. I wasn’t called. I had to call and call and call.)

“Oh, that’s right you don’t have to pay since it’s been less than 90 days since the first repair.”

“Why didn’t they tell me that the first time I called!!!!” I asked. (I ran out of honey after the 11th call.)

“… “

Sigh. “So I guess the technician will come out an fix it.” I said.

“The technician will be there next Thursday.” Sears said.

Thursday.

I think homemade cinnamon raisin bagels are on the menu for tomorrow night. Don’t judge me. They’re non-perishable.

(Wyatt with chocolate on his lip from tonight's cookies. The photo is blurry, but it will last forever. It's non-perishable.)

Visit Fruit of the Carolyn for more tales of goats, children, duck eggs, cookies, autism, a pesky raven, my love affair with my husband, and the magic of every day. I promise to make a mistake in every post and I promise that poo will be mentioned frequently.

The one where her account was hacked by a friend....

Not really, but I thought this would be a funny lead in.

Its great to be here at The Welcome Mat! I have known Victoria since she swipped the highly coveted slingshot monkeys from me over on Della's blog. I fell in love with her right away and soon after we found out we have about 8 young, handsome men in common. NOoooo - not what you are thinking we both seem to be the mission moms in our respectable wards and since we are in the same district we share alot of the same Elders. I love The Welcome Mat and have since the moment I have happened upon it. Sometimes, I have to admit, I have come JUST to hear the music! SO to make a long story short - it's great to be on this side of the mat!Thanks for the invite Victoria!

For my first post, I will actually repost one of my favorite posts for your reading enjoyment!

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Okay so this here is my theory. Just mine. You might think differently and that is really okay. Remember theories are meant to be proven or disproven with time and application. Now where was I?

I think bumper stickers can tell alot about a person.
Yes, not just the usual ...do they belong to the national rifle association or do they have AAA , whom they are voting for but soooo much more.


If you have.....

0 bumper stickers - You are boring. Now don't go taking offense here. I am boring also.Remember this is just my theory.

1 bumper stickers - You stand for something. You either believe in a candidates stand on something, want to save a rainforest or have an opinion.

2 bumper stickers - This is where the gray area slowly begins to seep in. You have many opinions ( and sometimes weird ideas on life) and want to share them with everyone on the road.

3 bumper stickers - You , my friend are walking the line of being freaky. A little scary almost. If you added one more you could be considered a suburban redneck. Cmon, really why is it necessary to know that you "flick you boogers" ?

4 bumper stickers- Oh dear. Maybe professional counseling might be a good step in the right direction. Again this is my theory. Please, comment and help me to prove or disprove it. I just think that when you start having 4 or more stickers you might have a lug nut not fastened properly.

When ya got more stickers than bumper - Okay, first, don't go getting all obnoxious when you walk into the school parking lot and find someone using her cell phone to zoom in on your bumper( while her toddler runs around her SUV). And further....when she nicely tries to dance round the question of why she is taking pictures you really shouldn't start haulin off pushing at her. Seriously, you might really have a few things you need to work out and maybe the purely innocent bloggers of the world are not the place to begin.

The One Where She is Not Too Proud to Beg

This last week has been a little overwhelming. I am not used to trying to be organized and disciplined. I don’t wear a watch. I don’t use a calendar. Just to be clear… I am also pretty good at following through on commitments and being on-time. I just like to maintain the illusion for myself that I am not overscheduled. But I had a catering job, company, piano lessons and music recording commitments this week, so I had to try to schedule myself more carefully than usual. I didn’t get everything done.

I realized a couple of things. The first thing is, that I may not get much sleep in October. This is do or die. The other thing I realized is, I need help. Truly, and desperately. I am working on getting help with my CD project, because I know I can’t finish it in time if I have another week like this one. I am also trying to scale back my participation in other activities for the month of October. I also need some help over here in blogville. I feel like I have been settling, by just posting recipes every now and again. While that is fun sometimes, it is not how I think of my blog. So I am wondering if some of my blog friends would like to be guest posters on my blog during the next couple of weeks. I am going to ask some family members to participate... but I thought it would be also be interesting to hear from some others, so...

I am calling you out… Fruit of the Carolyn, Bakow Babble, Cranberry Fries, Duffy Doings, Kristin @ Alpine Klein Bunch, Matt and Corinne Bos, Pike’s Pickles, My Amusements, Obsessions and Things, It’s Miller Time, Italian Signorina, Sad But True… I am begging for your help. The posts don’t have to be long. Will you do a guest post on my blog? These are just a few of the folks I read all the time… I know I’m forgetting people... Jamie... Jan... Linda... Life is Beauty-ful? so if I didn’t mention you and you would like to be my guest, even if you don’t have a blog... just give a holler (or, this being the Halloween season, a screech). So friends, what say you?

The One Where She is Not Pregnant

Nope. Not pregnant. Didn’t even think I was. Not so much as a little “scare,” even. But I just created a post called “Why I’ve been eating peppermint ice cream...” and, well... it just looked questionable. So I thought I would rule that out right off the bat. And tell you that I have started a new blog. It will explain itself. And a lot of other things, too. And it will explain why I am going to be too busy to post much in October. I will still try, but if it is sketchy, you will understand. So go see my new blog. Bloggy friends, PLEASE: Follow my new blog. BE the follower. Invite your friends to be followers. (Hurry! You could be the first!) I need your help, here, friends...

Why I’ve Been Eating Peppermint Ice Cream

The One Where She Was a Monster

Yesterday I found myself giving unsolicited advice to a friend. For like… forty-five minutes! I’ve never liked that quality in others, and have always admired my parents for being so good at refraining from doing so. It’s pretty bad when you can’t just have a friendly conversation, right? A listening ear? I don’t always have to have my say.

I need to watch my monster mouth, and ask myself, before I speak:

Is it timely?
Is it true?
Is it kind?
Is it necessary?

Maybe I should carry around a stack of post-it notes with those questions printed on them, with check boxes alongside. Maybe with a little reminder at the bottom that says, You. Are. Not. Everyone’s. Mom. Or maybe just some duct tape. For my mouth. Am I really the advice monster?

The One Where it Was Too Hot For Soup

I am dreaming... of fall.

I know it is supposed to already be fall and everything. In fact, I have heard wild rumors of snow in Utah county. But I will tell you that Southern California is not cooperating. We had a little cool weather last week, that lured my liquidambar tree in the front yard.. the only indication of changing seasons for miles around... into beginning its autumn metamorphosis. And just as quickly, some Santa Ana winds showed up, along with a nasty dry heatwave, and now the leaves are baking on the tree instead of turning red and orange. I don’t really appreciate that sort of behavior in October.

And today I had a request for this recipe. Taco Soup. It is a great one for the cool weather. Which, as previously stated, I am not having.


But I did make crepes this morning...


Crêpes. They are good food for watching LDS General Conference on TV. They are good for summer. Spring. Fall. Winter. I have tried, but I just can’t think of a down-side for crepes. Make them.



P.S. This new blog background... totally ME, or WHAT???

Taco Soup

Crêpes

The One With the Lance Corporal and the Half Birthday

So tomorrow is Ethan’s half birthday. What did you do on the day you were 18 and a half? Well, Ethan is being promoted to Lance Corporal in the Marine Corps. Wish I had a better photo, but, well… he is in Virginia and I am in Cali. So this will have to do.

Ethan is stationed at the Naval Amphibious Base, Little Creek, located in Virginia Beach, Virginia. He attends the Navy School of Music, also referred to as the Armed Services School of Music. I wish Ethan could tell you about what he does there, because I am sure to get it wrong. But I am going to try, since his life is definitely more interesting than anything going on around my house.

His music education there consists of three parts: ear training, theory and mastery of his instrument, which is the French horn. He is a McDaniel, and therefore rocks everyone at the ear training part. The theory he has also flown through, since it is an academic venture that he tackles at the computer, and although he has never had theory, it mostly consists of principles he already grasps, but didn’t know the names for. The sticky part is the mastery of the French horn. He trains side-by-side with musicians with greatly varying experience, including many who are college graduates in music. Ethan has never even had private lessons, and although he is extremely musical, just being musical does not give him the technique he needs. He has to practice a minimum of ten hours a week, and sometimes much more in order to improve as rapidly as he wants.

It is Ethan’s plan to graduate from the music school in January. At that time he will be assigned to a Marine Band. There are twelve Marine Bands. I believe that one is in Japan, one in Hawaii, and the rest are in the continental U.S. Ethan will have the opportunity to submit his top three choices of location. In the meantime, he fills his days with P.T., marching practice, and hours and hours of French horn practice.

If anyone would like to drop him a note, he would love it, and so would I. He may be a Lance Corporal, but he is still an 18 and a half-year-old clear across the country from home. Here is his address:

School of Music, Marine Detachment
LCpl Ethan McDaniel
1420 Gator Blvd.
Norfolk, VA 23521

The One Where He Is Testing the Fences (or How Little Boys Are Just Like Velociraptors)

This is my grandson Jif. (Yes of course it is an alias... I mean, who names their firstborn after peanut butter?) What I like the best about Jif, is he is smart. I know what you’re thinking… you’re wondering, how could I possibly know he is smart? He doesn’t even talk. Remember, though… I’ve had little boys once or twice before. And I am telling you that even though he can’t talk yet, my little grandbaby is smart. Smart enough to test the fences.



My boys were smart, too, and as I have mentioned before, my first three I had in three years. My first five, in eight years. So naturally they were a pack… united against their common enemy… me. They were like those velocipraptors in Jurassic Park… smart and fast. Do you know the ones I mean? Early on, Dr. Grant quizzes Muldoon, the Aussie dino wrangler, and the conversation goes something like this:

MULDOON: They're lethal at eight months, and I do mean lethal. I've hunted most things that can hunt you, but the way these things move...
GRANT: Fast for a biped?
MULDOON: Cheetah speed. Fifty, sixty miles an hour if they ever got out into the open, and they're astonishing jumpers...

I felt that way at times as well. They moved at cheetah speed. And my sweet baby Casey was not only an astonishing jumper, but quite the climber. I pulled him out of my grand piano once. Oh... and creative beyond belief. Josh once made pancake batter on my wood floor with a 10-pound sack of whole wheat flour, a dozen eggs, and… well, I won’t even say how he was watering it down.

But after all is said and done, it is the intelligence that will get you…

GRANT: Do they show intelligence?
MULDOON: They show extraordinary intelligence, even problem-solving. Especially the big one. We bred eight originally, but when she came in she took over the pride and killed all but two of the others. That one... when she looks at you, you can tell she's working things out. She had them all attacking the fences when the feeders came.
ELLIE: The fences are electrified, right?
MULDOON: That’s right. But they never attack the same place twice. They were testing the fences for weaknesses. Systematically. They remembered.

Eerie, isn’t it? I have seen my sweet little angels do just the same thing. I thought I was smart until I had my boy pack. This problem-solving ability referenced by Muldoon, while not always evident in their schoolwork, was definitely utilized torturing babysitters, making messes, or, as he so aptly put it, “testing the fences.”

Eventually poor Muldoon ended up with Dr. Ellie Sattler when the fences went down.
ELLIE: We can make it if we run.
MULDOON: No…….. we can’t.
SATTLER: Why not?
MULDOON: Because… we are being hunted.

Muldoon was shortly proven correct, as the velociraptors acted in a concerted pack effort to hunt and kill him. As the cunning female closed on him with her razor-sharp talons, he uttered the classic line: “Clever girl…” (you have to imagine that in his Aussie drawl.)

And then Muldoon was Dino Nuggets.

I’m not saying this sweet little baby is a bloodthirsty dinosaur with lethal weapons for hands (Although I have heard him, on occasion, make raptor-like sounds). And obviously Jif has it all over the lizard in pure cuteness.

All I’m saying is, his mommy and daddy need to watch out. Because every once in awhile he looks right at you… and you can tell he is “working things out.”

The One With the Comfort Food

What has happened to my life? Where did the lazy days go? I have been so busy my head is spinning. Could have something to do with that project I haven’t gotten around to telling you about yet… maybe. Oh, and I am making good progress on my recipe book. I have a list of about thirty more of my favorite recipes that I still have to make, so that I can include a photo or two with each recipe. It is going to be very, very cool. This was a great weekend. My amazing family... best friends… true church… and I just realized there is no school tomorrow, so I don’t have to get up at 5:00 a.m. Awesome. Too tired right now to make a lot of sense, so I will just leave you with a taste of my Sunday dinner.

This…

and did I mention...this?

Stuffed Pork Chops with Homemade Applesauce

Company Carrots

The One Where No Words Are Necessary

Just click it big...

The One With All the Spice

I dreamed about the cleverest blog post ever, woke up and quickly jotted it down, then went back to sleep. When I woke up again a couple hours later, I found that the brilliant prose I had so carefully penned had been replaced by some chicken scratches and a lot of gibberish. I don’t know who would sneak into my room and do something like that. So anyway, you are stuck with this: I have some friends by the name of Spice. And they have allergies... to cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves, cayenne...

Am I the only one who grasps the irony, here??? Well. That is all I have to say. That, and... make these Snickerdoodles. Why? Because you can.

Snickerdoodles

The One With Elder Jones and the Foosball Game

Why am I smiling, you ask? Fun day? Well, let’s see… I played the organ for a funeral. Draw your own conclusions there. Shopping spree, then? Not this time… I actually screwed up and accidentally overdrew my bank account today. House all clean? As if. Actually, the fact is, I smile a lot. Not in pictures so much, I will admit. I love a good pensive expression, pout or smirk. But I actually spend much of my day laughing. Often at the expense of others. So this is just real life. And here are a few things that made me smile today. First, phone calls from a couple of different friends I haven’t talked to in awhile. I haven’t been exactly stellar at friendship lately, so it is nice to see I have retained a few diehards. Oh! A really fun blog story over at Fruit of the Carolyn… start with Part 1 and work your way up. And, I found a Lindor bar (my favorite chocolate) that DK brought home for me the other night, and which I had forgotten about until this afternoon. It is a little like finding a $20 in the pocket of a jacket you haven’t worn in awhile... except that it tastes better... that said, you wouldn’t really want to find one of these in your pocket after a few months. A package from my mom with dried pears, walnuts, a new shirt and a bunch of other cool stuff. I love packages. Oh… and that little secret project I’ve hinted about… that is making me smile.

My project is a leap of faith. It is requiring me to get back some confidence I have lost over the last couple of months (along with some of the flesh off my hands). I was reminded today of a particular incident that happened a couple of years ago, that involved my son Dillon, our foosball table… and one of these awesome missionaries. This picture was taken in my kitchen, where we used to serve breakfast to this many missionaries every single p-day. Those were such fun days. The previous Christmas we had bought a foosball table as a family present, and it was seeing a lot of use. Dillon was particularly good at it… he could beat anyone he played. The missionaries loved to play two-on-two tournaments on those Tuesdays. Some of them were pretty lousy at it, some were good, and occasionally one would come along who was really good.

One of those was a certain Elder Jones (in the picture he is the one with the craziest smile). Elder Jones was the sunniest, happiest missionary I have ever met. He reminds me that I used to taunt him that his girlfriend who was faithfully writing him would never wait for him (ask me later how that turned out). One Tuesday as they were all about to leave, Dillon ended up in a quick one-on-one game with Elder Jones. He had no idea just how quick it would be. Before Dillon even knew what had happened, Elder Jones smoked him in about a minute flat… 10-2. And then breezed out the door for e-mail time. Dillon was a little stunned. I figured he would just forget about it, but over the next hours, days and even weeks, he had to play constantly. He challenged everyone, perfecting his game a little more each time he played. It wasn’t a revenge sort of thing… it was as though it was his personal mission to improve. And better he was. After awhile, instead of trying to beat him, I would just try to get a single point before he shut me out. The funny thing is, I don’t think Elder Jones ever knew that ever after, he was famous in our house for his foosball prowess. Love you, Elder Jones!

I have suffered some humiliating shut-outs of my own over the past couple of months, mostly due to my own pride and thoughtlessness. I have decided it is time to take on some new challenges, improve my game, and dominate. You will be seeing the results soon enough.

The One Where He Stayed Back to Feed Lamoni’s Horses

I am going to do something today that I generally avoid. I’m posting the letter we received from our missionary son today. I only share his letters with family, for a variety of reasons. Let’s face it… we Mormons are pretty strange. We have our own church vocabulary. I mean, what is an investigator? A person you hire to solve a case, right? Nooooo. In Mormon lingo, it is someone who is learning about our church. We send our sons away for two years when they are 19 years old, where we don’t see them at all, and only talk to them twice a year by phone. Hmm. The more I think about it, the less crazy that sounds:). But Casey (Elder McDaniel) only has about two and a half months left of his mission. He has become fluent in Spanish and is becoming quite proficient at ASL (American Sign Language). He was unique and fun when he left, and over the last two years, he has become just downright amazing. By the way, in the photo, he is the tall, skinny one wearing all white. I learned a lot from his letter today, and I thought you might find it inspiring as well. So here goes...

Dear Mom,

Yesterday we had a special visitor. The whole mission was invited to go to a meeting in Arlington. We had a pretty good idea of who would be there, and we were right: President Uchtdorf! All the missionaries in the Dallas and Ft. Worth missions went to see, and shake hands with a Prophet, Seer, and Revelator of God. Well... all except for one missionary. When we found out about the meeting we were very surprised, because it was the same time as our church services. We would have to leave before church, and get home after. I had very mixed feelings. We have two baptismal candidates scheduled for this weekend. We needed them to go to church, and we also we had an awesome new deaf investigator coming. The mission president said I would be crazy not to go. Also the other missionaries were talking about it all week. I asked them what I should do, which they all answered with ease... of course I should go see President Uchtdorf. But it didn't feel right. So I was praying, and it was clear as day, and obvious. I have less then three months left. I spend too much of my mission trying to experience and learn. I knew it was time to give selfless service. I think the other elders got the idea I didn't want to go, or that I was trying to vindicate myself somehow. But that wasn’t the case… I wanted to go so bad! Anyway, I set up plans to have my companion go, and I would stay back and “watch the sheep.” He took a tape recorder so as to not leave me out. And for the next couple hours I was the only missionary in the entire Texas Dallas Mission. I didn’t know what would happen in church, but it was way worth it. Each of the members that heard that I stayed back said I was crazy. But I could see the bishop could tell I stayed back to support him and his ward. Our deaf investigator came, and she got lost. But I felt prompted to walk the halls during the meeting, and there she was. Also as I was walking by the stake president’s office, one of his councilors called me in, and thanked me for all the translations I’ve done. And I was able to take care of our Baptismal candidates. When I told one of them I stayed back to make sure all the investigators were taken care of, she started to cry. But I didn't feel bad at all for missing it, even when the other elders returned, talking it up. Later I was reading in Alma 18. When Lamoni asks where Ammon was, the servants reply, “You commanded us to feed, and prepare your horses.” (Apparently watching Ammon chop off arms, made them forget that detail!) And Lamoni was overwhelmed to hear that Ammon was caring for his animals. You may remember the talk Elder Oakes gave... “Good, Better, and Best.” It would be good to listen to an Apostle of God and shake his hand; It would be better to selflessly serve my brothers and sisters; but it was best that I could be where I needed to be to have special oppurtunities to serve, and listen to the Apostle's talk afterward, and apply those words to my life. According to the mission president and other missionaries I am crazy. But that is okay, because I am so happy to be a missionary, and to serve my brothers and sisters, and bring them unto their ultimate Savior.

This is getting long, but it was a crazy week. We took Sis. Leyva to visit the temple (the photo is of her baptism). We had helped her set a goal and she acheived it: She finished the Book of Mormon before we went to the temple Thursday. She hasn’t even been a member of the church a whole month, but now knows more than the majority of members in the world.

I also went on an exchange with My son, Elder Kelly {meaning that Elder McDaniel trained him as a greenie missionary many months ago}. He is the New AP (assistant to the mission president). I was nervous, but I was glad to see there were still plenty of things I could teach him, and new things he could teach me. Did I mention my bike was stolen? It was sad… my 200 dollar bike almost lasted all two years. I got a full 9 months in bike areas with it. Anyway don’t worry… having your greenie be the AP has certain benefits. Anyway I hope y’all have a great week. Love Elder McD.

The One Where She Spills Her Guts

Okay, not literally. I don’t know if I have ever told you this, but I never throw up. Well, almost never. The amount of times I have thrown up in the last 35 years: One. Number of times I plan to throw up in the next 35 years: Zero. Just so we’re clear.

So figuratively speaking, here is what is going on in Victoria world.

1. Church. I am going to be teaching the 11-year-old girls, and doing their twice-monthly activity days. I think they realized that having someone who has made so many children cry teach the six-year-olds was probably a bad move. Despite the fact that I am a boy mom, to which Cambria can attest, as she has suffered the consequences for these twelve years, I think I can handle five 11-year-old girls, and we should get along swimmingly. Raising six sons has to prepare one for something. What is that something? I haven’t figured that out, yet.

2. Sing Noel. Sing Noel is a Christmas music program that our church hosts for the community the first weekend in December. It is sort of big. There is an adult choir of over a hundred, a young women’s choir and a children’s choir. I will be playing for the adult choir again this year, and the rehearsals begin the second week of October. Performances Dec. 5th and 6th. You’re all invited. That means I will actually have to practice.

3. Family. Casey is my Number Three Son (rankings determined by birth order, not by popularity), and he is currently serving a mission for our church in Texas. He is teaching about Jesus Christ to the Spanish-speaking population in the downtown Dallas area. He has also been teaching in ASL (American Sign Language), not for the first time during this two years. He told us that he had to say his first prayer in ASL on Sunday. He said it was “stressful, because everyone was looking at him.” He cracks me up. Ethan is my Number Four Son (again, determined by birth order… no offense intended) and he is currently stationed at Little Creek Amphibious Base near Norfolk, Virginia, attending the armed forces music school there. I mention sons #3 and #4 because it is their absence which leaves a hole in my family…which hole is going to be filled in December. We have had overlapping missionaries for the last five years, and so in that five years, I have not once had all of my family together. Casey finishes his two-year mission December 9th, and Ethan will be home for Christmas, making possible a kind of McDaniel family Perfect Storm. Am I a little excited? Yes!

4. Food. Yes, I have been eating. And cooking. And I have a new project. It is not more catering. I will not be catering again in 2009… unless someone with whom I share blood (or my bed) requires it. So what is the project? If you have downloaded any of the recipes I have posted in the last week, you will notice that I have changed the format. I have been going through all of my recipes and adding photos and tips. By the end of October I plan to have my seventy favorite recipes, complete with my own photos, so that I can print them into a recipe book. I have a friend who is getting married, and I hope it will make a very special wedding present. My current thought is to print them and put them in sheet protectors in a binder. I could actually print a bound book, but I kind of like the sheet protectors, since I tend to splatter everything in the kitchen. Thoughts or suggestions from my creative readers?

5. Music. I have jumped off the deep end, and started a project that I will complete by the second week of November. It is very, very exciting, and is going to require all of the time leftover from taking care of my family and completing numbers 1-4 above. I am not quite ready to announce it, but you can look for me to do so in the next ten days, and (hint) you will be able to pre-order said project.

6. Blog. In November my blog will see its first birthday. It will probably be due for a makeover. I have worn out “The One That…” and maybe the blog title as well. What do you think? Any great makeover suggestions?

7. Pets. I am going to buy Skippy a dog.

8. Just kidding on Number 7… sorry, Skip.

The One For Garry’s Dinner

When Garry lived here as a missionary, he had a motto regarding food. He said, “I will eat anything that is put in front of me.” It is a good policy for missionaries that eat at a different home every night. Most of the missionaries observed that policy. The fact is, Garry probably will eat anything you put in front of him, but he would prefer not to eat onions. Okay, maybe he would strongly prefer not to eat onions… So anyway, one night when he was here, I had to make dinner in a hurry. I needed to use up some leftover grilled chicken, and I needed to stick with ingredients I had on hand. I came up with this dinner that you can put together in just about twenty minutes, even if you need to grill the chicken (I have included my grilled chicken recipe, just in case). And guess what… it is really yummy. I promise that if you click the photo to see it full-size, you will be making it for dinner tomorrow.

But wait… that’s not all. How about a dessert that only has six ingredients, looks fancy enough for company, and you make the crust entirely in your food processor? That would be this Plum Tart.

By the way, I got impatient and the plums I used weren’t very ripe, and it still turned out juicy and delicious. Don’t say I never gave you anything...

Garry’s Penne Alfredo
Balsamic Grilled Chicken
Plum Tart

The Totally Basic One

I don’t have much to say, but I couldn’t look at the picture of my witch claw at the top of my blog anymore. So… a recipe. It is the good old fall-back. You might recall that in “Little Women,” which is one of my favorite books, they all made fun of Beth because she didn’t have anything more interesting to post in their paper than a recipe. So mock if you will, but I have a cookie jar full of these, and you don’t. There are a few recipes that I have made so often that I don’t ever have to pull out a book, a recipe card, or consult my computer. This is one. I can throw it together so fast that I can pull a batch out of the oven before you can find your car keys and drive to the store and back with your sub-standard store-bought cookies. It is the good old Nestle Tollhouse recipe. I have tried a lot of others, but sometimes basic is the best. Click on the photo to enlarge… and then lean in… closer… now SMELL!

Chocolate Chip Cookies

The One Where She Flashed Bloody Gang Signs

Halloween hand modeling, or bloody gang signs? You can decide. Skin is an amazing thing. These are some of my burns, two weeks later. They look better every single day. The way bodies heal is pretty crazy. My right hand is almost totally healed (or scarred over? It kind of looks like a dog bite!) I hadn’t really felt like playing the piano in awhile, but it is funny how knowing that I couldn’t play for the last couple of weeks made me want to. So today I played around a little… I can use most of my fingers, and it turns out you don’t really need them all. So I’m putting up this little tune I played this morning, as a celebration. Let’s call it… Eight Fingers. (Click on the playlist to hear it)

The One With the Chocolate in the Charger

Once again, I am confronted with the realization that I cannot control my own fate. Okay, so I don’t really believe in fate, per se… but you know what I mean. The last week of August, I had to cater a wedding reception for 500. Usually I have a partner to cook with, and we can split up the tasks. Having a partner doesn’t make it twice as easy. It makes it exponentially easier... something more like twenty times as easy. I know that doesn’t totally make sense, but it is true. Maybe when I am catering with Fawn, she does most of the work! I hadn’t thought of that… I hope it isn’t true, but there it is. A distinct possibility.

So anyway, it was a Friday. I had done as much of the prep work as I could on Thursday. Alright, that is a lie. I had procrastinated a few things I could have done on Thursday, and they were coming back to bite me. It was two hours before the reception, and I was officially losing my sanity. I had co-opted the help of my 16-year-old son Dillon and his friend Sam, and we were running from place to place, dropping off supplies at the venue, picking up last-minute items at stores. I sent Dillon into a store with my credit card to pick up all the cut fruit for the displays, and I kept Sam to help me load my car quickly while Dillon was in the store. As we pulled away from the store, my mind was a snarl of stressful thoughts. I was imagining all the things I still had to do, and realizing there was not time to do them. Just then, I noticed a car backing out toward me. I was already passing her, and I chanted aloud, Don’t hit my car, don’t hit my car… and then CRASH. She hit my car.
Maybe it was just a little reminder. Things can always be worse. And after all, it is just a car. I really don’t care about cars. So this week my car is in the body shop being fixed. The lady’s insurance paid for a rental car, which happens to be this pretty sporty Dodge Charger. I have been enjoying driving around in it. Except this morning we got in it to go to church, and Skippy told me, Mama, I think you ruined your new car.

It is not ruined, exactly.

I had glazed two giant chocolate ganache cakes a couple of hours before the event I catered yesterday. When it was time to leave, they were still a little wet (translation: gooey chocolate bombs just waiting to go off). So we lined the back seat of the Charger with newspaper and set the cakes, still on a cooling rack, where they would not slide around. And they didn’t. All the way to Orange, thirty miles and three different freeways. All the way until the off-ramp thirty seconds from the venue. It was a shorter off-ramp than I anticipated. You know what? They still tasted good, and a little upholstery cleaning later, and you can barely tell at all. And you know what else? There are worse things. Ask any car rental place. I bet they will tell you that they practically never have people coming in to complain that their rental car smells like chocolate.

The One Where She Saw the Wolf

Last night about 6:00 p.m. I got a call from DK. He had asked a few weeks ago if I would cater a luncheon at his office. I didn’t think about it again… until last night when he mentioned that the luncheon was today. Surprise catering! It was like a Food Network challenge. You have eight dollars per person, and seventy people, and you are feeding them at 11:45 tomorrow morning. Oh, yeah... and don’t forget: you have one hand, and one witch claw. At least that is what one of my kids told me my left hand looks like. Nice.

So here is the menu:

Mixed Baby Greens with Raspberries and Sugared Pecans
Grilled Chicken Caesar Salad
Sun-Dried Tomato Pasta Salad
Homemade Butter Rolls
Homemade Whole Wheat Bread
Fruit
Chocolate Ganache Cake
Chocolate-Dipped Strawberries

I mapped out what I had to do before I went to bed... making the homemade croutons for the Caesar, making the rolls and the bread, cooking the pasta and making the cakes. Tasks that left a lot of down time, waiting for things to bake or rise. But yesterday a package arrived in the mail. It was the book Shiver, which I won in a blog giveaway from Debbie at Cranberry Fries. (Thanks Debbie, you made my week!) So in between cooking, baking and doing dishes, I rewarded myself with chapters of the book.

The book was even yummier than the food… I consumed all 390 pages before the last cake was out of the oven at about 2:30 a.m. And that was when it happened. It was steamy in the house, and so I took a five-minute break on the backyard swing while I waited for croutons to toast. I came in to turn out lights in the living room, and there, crouched right in front of my white slipcovered chair, was a wolf. I am not kidding you, here... it scared me so bad my knees went weak and my heart skipped a beat. I almost fell on the ground in full arrest, but then suddenly my heart kicked back in, beating about four times faster than it should have.

Funny thing. Turns out it was not a wolf, but actually a fairly innocent-looking guitar, just hanging out, leaning casually against the chair. Why, for a split-second, was it a feral wolf? Read Shiver after midnight sometime, and you will see.

And by the way, the Sun-Dried Tomato Pasta Salad was so good that they ate almost ten pounds of it... and then they used the homemade bread to sop up the last of the dressing left in the bowl. This salad is a thing of beauty. One guy told me he loved it so much he wanted to marry it. So, naturally, I figured you would want the recipe:

Lick-the-bowl
Sun-Dried Tomato Pasta Salad

The One Where We Bomb Them With Butter

September 11th. Eight years later. There is this quote from September of 2001 that I like, but I don’t know to whom it may be attributed, as I have found credit given to three different sources. I am going to go with a Rabbi Moshe Waldoks. He said…

“A military response, particularly an attack on Afghanistan, is exactly what the terrorists want. It will strengthen and swell their small but fanatical ranks. Instead, bomb Afghanistan with butter, with rice, bread, clothing and medicine. It will cost less than conventional arms, poses no threat of US casualties and just might get the populace thinking that maybe the Taliban don't have the answers. After three years of drought and with starvation looming, let's offer the Afghani people the vision of a new future. One that includes full stomachs. Bomb them with information. Video players and cassettes of world leaders, particularly Islamic leaders, condemning terrorism. Carpet the country with magazines and newspapers showing the horror of terrorism committed by their “guest.” Blitz them with laptop computers and DVD players filled with a perspective that is denied them by their government. Saturation bombing with hope will mean that some of it gets through. Send so much that the Taliban can't collect and hide it all. The Taliban are telling their people to prepare for Jihad. Instead, let's give the Afghani people their first good meal in years. Seeing your family fully fed and the prospect of stability in terms of food and a future is a powerful deterrent to martyrdom. All we ask in return is that they, as a people, agree to enter the civilized world. That includes handing over terrorists in their midst.
In responding to terrorism we need to do something different. Something unexpected... something that addresses the root of the problem. We need to take away the well of despair, ignorance and brutality from which the Osama bin Ladens of the world water their gardens of terror.”

Today my thoughts are of butter bombs and bribes of hope. I like the idea, and I hope you don’t think I dishonor it by sharing my recipe for some butter bombs of my own.... you can download this recipe for my all-time favorite rolls:

Butter Rolls

The One With No More Sticky Notes

I am a list-maker. It is genetic. Got it from my mom. She used to present each family member with a to-do list on a Saturday morning, when all I really wanted to do was watch cartoons. I think we had three television stations that we could receive, and those Saturday morning cartoons were what we lived for. I still like me a good cartoon. But now I make my own to-do lists. I like to put them on sticky notes on my computer desktop. Virtual sticky notes, not real ones. Then I delete the items as I complete them. I have to admit that those lists actually helped me when I was a kid. I work better when I have a clear idea of what has to be done, and some way of marking progress.

But I have found as an adult, that anything I have to write on a sticky note is probably something that I really don’t want to do. Otherwise I would have just done it, rather than sitting down at the computer to compose a sticky note. For example, in the amount of time it took to sit down and type up a sticky note that says to call the insurance agent back, I could actually have called the insurance agent back. But that would require me doing the thing I don’t want to do. Creating a sticky note is a much more pleasant alternative. But I will admit, I weary of moving Monday’s jobs to Tuesday, and Tuesday’s list to Wednesday, as I have quite a collection of chores that I am studiously avoiding.

But this morning was different. It is not noon yet, and I have checked everything off my notes, and actually closed them... No sticky notes on the desktop! It makes me feel very accomplished. I must have been crazy busy, you are thinking. But no. My strategy involved something I will call simplification. I didn’t work harder; I just lowered my standards. Yes, I still have breakfast dishes in the sink. Bed made? No. But they weren’t on the list. Do you see where I’m going with this? Genius! My list consisted of, Get up. Get Skippy off to his first day of First Grade. Go for bagels with Kathie. Check my e-mails. Find a good book to read. Write a new blog post. Check.

And look at me… not even noon, and my whole To-Do List… wiped out and put away. Just wanted you to know I’m on a roll, over here… and I am just tingling with anticipation to see what is on the list for tomorrow. Maybe I will watch cartoons.

The One Where We All Said “Goodnight, Ned”

I don’t usually post twice in a day, but (heaven help us) AT&T is coming tomorrow to dismantle our internet... and I have a feeling it is going to be a challenge. Just wanted to leave you a little treat in case I never make it back. My favorite movie song Of. All. Time. Blue Shadows on the Trail. This was Skippy’s lullaby when he was a baby... Goodnight, Ned.