Spring Sing, Construction, and Little Trees

First, it kind of looks like Meema and Papa are invited to the Pleasant Valley Spring Sing.  Is that cute or what?

Next, look what's happening near us.  Someone is building a few houses.  I haven't seen that for nearly 2 years.  I don't personally think that the consumer economy will feel much more prosperous than right now for up to a year on the bright side, maybe longer. 

Small businesses need to catch up on deferred maintenance, deferred capital expenditures, paying debt and accumulating a little capital assets.  It's a good thing for everyone if small business can regain some stability.  Remember that the economy could get worse and still may. But, it feels good that someone is building houses.  Last week, my construction company submitted a bid to work on a pretzel shop in a mall.  My theory always goes like this:  If someone is willing to build a (fill in the blank) store, it means they are willing to take personal risk on the gamble that people want to buy (fill in the blank).  Here is to hoping there is a pretzel market out there.  

And finally, there is a really pretty little tree in front of our business property.  I tell it that it's cute and give it a pep talk every day.  Last, summer I was delighted to see that it had babies.  I mean little sprouts of it had grown up around it.  I dug up three and stuck them in my greenhouse for the winter.  Only one survived.  I care for it daily and promise that I have a beautiful home prepared for it once it gets just a bit larger. 

In Response to the "Modern" World

I'm not a big fan of Facebook.  Some people use it to put one sentence sound bites on how they feel that day.  Others use it to have very limited discussions with others.  Having a discussion in sound bites is not something that seems to work well.  And you get that this is not really friendship, right?  People who see your intimate thoughts on Facebook may be only acquaintances.  Calling them friends doesn't make it so.

There was recently a controversy on Facebook among the Osbornes as to whether Step Grand Daughter should be taken fishing.  The exactly comment was "Isn't she too young to be killing animals?"   

The world changed recently.  Traditionally, children were not as insulated from the realities of life.  They didn't grow up thinking that eggs come from Costco.  They knew eggs came out of chickens because they had some contact with the process.  They knew what birth was because they had seen it in some form.  They dug in the dirt, road their bikes far and wide, picked food from plants and ate it raw and dirty.  They lived closer to Grandma and Grandpa, saw them age, saw them sick, saw them die. 

There was no antibiotic soap.  We were sprayed with a little Biactine and called it good.  We were exposed to things.  We learned to pee outside behind a bush when the occasion called for it.  

Is today's world better?  McDonalds, Costco, frozen entrees in a bag?  These things are new.  They haven't been around long.  Is our world a better place because of it?    Are we healthier, happier, more self actualized?  Well, I'll let you make your own decision, but please leave me a comment with your thoughts.  And Osbornes - no offense, just my opinion on that.

Remember.

Shared with Kelly the Kitchen Kop at http://kellythekitchenkop.com/2011/03/real-food-wednesday-32311.html)  Please go there next.  It's really a good thing.

What is Love?

The other day I heard that tired old thing.  "Love means never having to say you are sorry."

All I'm going to say about that is No It Doesn't!

Love means seeing your partner at his or her worst and it's alright.

Love means not getting your way this time and it's alright.

Love is sometimes needing to stand up for yourself and it's alright.

Love means the tight abs are gone and it's alright.

Love is not perfect, but it is kind.  Love does not suffer idiots, for love of self is as important as love of others.  (Sometimes more.)

Love means You Should Pick Up Your Stuff! and ....well....maybe not that one.

Love, and all mature relationships, are Give and Take.  More Give than Take.

Hope you pick people who are Also More Give Than Take.  For that balance is important.  Teach the Young Ones to be More Give Than Take and to pick others who are More Give Than Take.

Remember to love.

Just a few thoughts from here.

• Husband is pleasantly snoring on the couch, (no, we won't show a picture of that, although it is cute).  And I'm alternately wrapping a few presents and cooking.  The pantry is full. We are warm and healthy.  There is work to do on Monday.  What more can a person want? 
• This has got me imspired and is the basis of tonight's meal.  I'm modifying it some to suit us.  Thanks to Moms for Safe food for this.   http://momsforsafefood.net/2010/12/06/stove-top-lasagna/
• The Golden Retriever is warm and happy and curled up under the tree.  As I walk by, he looks up as to say, "what should we do now, Mom?"  Like you've done anything all day, Dude.  Just be happy.  All is well. 
• I've frequently enjoyed a blogger, Foy.  She is insightful and interesting.  I enjoyed her phase as a food blogger. 

http://foyupdate.blogspot.com/  Her current passion is to organize her personal possessions and to remove those things which don't add value to her life.  I've watched her go through shoes, books, kitchen items and more, evaluating what is important to her and eliminating the rest. 

I tend to be a pretty organized person.  My stuff is pretty tidy and I have storage for a few extra odd things, if I wish.  But her quest has found me looking through my own things.  This drawer contains recipes, which I compulsively collect. Little things hand written.  Some things in my mother's handwriting. It is a small part of my collection.  It is not untidy.  But, I'm committing myself to go through it, try the recipes and make decisions.  Perhaps preserve those important ones in some more permanent format.  How do you store recipes and other important bits of paper?    

Remember to make conscious decisions about your life.

Pumpkin Cookies to Take to School

First things first.  Happy Birthday to my little sister, Melinda Bennett.  She is not the same person as Melynda who comments regularly here.  Hi, Melynda!  Actually, I'd say hi, Melinda, but I haven't gotten my little sister very interested in computers.  Last time I asked her, she hadn't yet visited.

Why is it so hard to take a picture of a fire in the fireplace?  Well, you'll have to take my word for it. 

Next, are we ever really thankful enough?  Today, I'm more than usually thankful for a warm house and a full pantry.  The washing machine is swishing away getting our clothes clean for the coming week.  What a lucky girl I am.  Remember to take a moment and be grateful for what you have, whatever that is.  Things could be worse.  Gratitude is something very powerful and essential in our lives and getting more scarce in the secular and materialistic world we live in.

On that happy note, Husband is busy playing with his new DVD player.  And by the way, when did DVD players need to be hooked up to the internet and where was I when this happened?  And what is Blue Ray, again?  Seems like only yesterday when Dad was recording the season fanale of Dallas for Mom, because she has a class that night and she didn't know how to time delay the video tape machine.  Yes, children, that was before DVD players were conceived of or imagined.

Now to the important stuff:  My assignment for this afternoon is to make pumpkin cookies with Step Granddaughter that she can take to a school event tomorrow.  Another thing to be thankful for.  I've found a canned pumpkin that says it is packaged in Corvallis, OR, which is near were I was born, so local enough for me.  I've seen it at Freddies and Safeway. 

Oh, and here is my inspiration for this.  http://sweet-as-sugar-cookies.blogspot.com/2010/11/pumpkin-spice-thumbprints-and-csn.html


Pumpkin Cookies
2 sticks of butter, softened
1 c. granulated sugar
1 c. packed bown sugar
1 egg
1 t. vanilla extract
1 c. canned pumpkin
1 c. rolled oats
1 t. baking powder
1 t. ground cinnamon
1/2 t. salt
1 1/4 c.  AP flour
1 1/4 c. whole wheat flour
Some where around 40 Hersey's Kisses, one for each cookie
Melted chocolate for drizzling.

In one bowl, combine the first 6 ingredients.  In another bowl, combine the next 6 ingredients.  Add one bowl to the other and stir to combine.  Preheat the over to 350 degrees.  Drop teaspoons full on a cookie sheet that has been sprayed with non stick spray.  Bake for 12 minutes.

Straight out of the oven I pressed a Hersey's Kiss into each cookie and drizzeled with a little chocolate syrup.  Okay, so this was more fun for me than her.  But she humored me.  And we got cookies to take to her event.  She ate enough that she won't want her dinner.  Hope I'm not in trouble again.

Remember that the details count for something.

Kitchen talk #3; Whale Done

I love the book Whale Done, by Ken Blanchard.  If you haven't read it, it is a quick read and I highly recommend it.  And his other books, The One Minute Manager, Raving Fans, Gung Ho.  His books are simple ideas that many of us learned early in life, but sort of forgot along the way.

Whale Done starts with the idea of how they train whales to do tricks at Sea World.  I've never been there, but I've seen it on TV.  So how do they get the whales to do tricks?  Beat them?  Starve them?  Would you want to be in the water with a mistreated whale?

According to this book, whales are trained by rewarding desirable behavior and ignoring undesirable behavior.  The book goes on to suggest that we translate these ideas to our personal relationships with the people who are important to us.  Just because the people around us aren't likely to physically hurt us (well, I'm hoping) doesn't mean that their sensibilities and sensitivities are less important.  And really, are negative interactions motivating or helpful?  Well of course not.

So there goes any form of criticism right out the window.  Along with it goes most sarcasm.  Darn, because I like sarcasm.  I'm really pretty darned good at sarcasm.  But it doesn't get you anything but a momentary sense of righteous indignation.  It doesn't teach anything.  And it doesn't encourage the behavior you like to see in the people around you.

So Well Done, Step Grand Daughter for careful stirring.  Ignoring the little mess on the counter.  Next time she does anything that looks like cleaning up, I'll try to praise her immediately. 

And Well Done, Brilliant Baby for closing the cabinet door.  Ignoring that he opened it. 

Oh, and Well Done, Good Husband for all the things you do to make our lives better.  Ignoring... well, let's not go there.

Remember to point out the positive.

Jessie/Jessica

This doll's name is Jessie, or Jessica.  It has been over 40 years.  I remember receiving her as a Christmas present in my parents house in Albany, OR.  She was wrapped in plastic.  I remember my father taking out his pocket knife to cut her loose from all that.  I remember the pleasure of holding her when she was was nearly my size.  She carries a few scars from years of use, but so do I.

My sister, Melinda, got a similar doll, about 3 feet tall.  My Jess is wearing a dress made by my Mother.  It has my Mother's neat small hand stitches, and her signature love of rick-rack and bias tape during this period. 

I might mention that my maternal grandmother was Jessie Irene Rose.   My grandmother was born in Northwest Oklahoma and died in Albany, OR.  She went by Irene, but her actual given name was Jessie.  My cousin, Kellie named her first daughter Jessie.  I was the first person to see or hold young Jessie, Kellie's Jessie, as she was delivered in the hospital.  

Step grand daughter likes Jessie, the doll.  Carries her around the house.  Holds her and shows her to people who visit.  Tells people Jessie is her daughter and that Jessie is 4 years old.  But, she doesn't belong to step granddaughter.  She was a Christmas's present to me more than 40 years prior.  If you are step grand daughter, how could you be expected to get your head around that one?

Remember to hang in there Miss Jess.  You are creating something.  Not sure what, but something.  And sorry about the ramble.  Just what's on my head today.  

 

Kitchen talk #2: The Ideal Marriage

I've seen a few things and done a few things in my 51 years.  I've made a few mistakes and watched others make a few.  I have the following observations about marriage.

1.  Some people marry thinking that the marriage or their spouse will make life easier for them or make them happier or make life better for them somehow.  Unfortunately, no other person can do those things for you.  Once the truth comes out, it is a difficult thing to recover from.  Personal growth is a life long activity for most of us.  Try to grow together, but try to allow your beloved the freedom to grow as he or she needs.

2.  Others marry with some idealized idea of what it will be like, how wonderful it will be to come home to their beloved.  No cold bed, no eating alone, no being alone.  Or some Prince Charming idea.  Or some pursuit of a good provider, or good housekeeper, or good mother or father.   And, once again, reality sinks in and it is hard to recover from. 

3.  It's so interesting how many people pick a person very different from themselves.  I did that.  I'm left brain, organized, detail oriented.  I can be a little awkward socially.  My emotions are stable.  I don't have the great highs and lows my sweet heart has.  He is a big picture thinker, a dreamer.  He is the life of the party.  He is a lover of music and art.  He can talk to anyone. We believe we picked each other because we balance each other.  Together we are one really good person.  I have one very distinct set of skills, talents and abilities.  He has a very different set. When it's all working for us, we create synergy.  We can do anything.  The world is ours.  When we fight it, it's horrible. 

Lesson here:  Don't fight it.  It is important to me to be good roll models for marriage and partnership and life skills for the young ones around me, but some days we just aren't up to it.

4.  What about love?  Hot pants love mellows over time.  If you are lucky, it never goes away.  Hot coals turn to slower embers, still cooking, but part of a natural progression and good in it's own way. 

I had this quote on our wedding anouncements.  I can't remember where I got it.  If you know, please say. 

"Love is friendship that has caught fire.  It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving.  It is loyalty through good and bad times.  It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses."  This may not sound like Prince Charming, but I kissed a few frogs to get here.

Love my Grey Wolf.

Sick

Sick at the Osbornes.  We have one of those viruses.  It started with the young ones.  Wish we could take it all on ourselves, but no.  It spread to the parents, then to us. We have to work each day.  "No rest for the weary," as my mother used to say.  I'm spending my evenings knitting, just a little drunk of Cepacol lozenges.

When we first got it, I froze everything fresh in the fridge.  I bought a large stew chicken from the Safeway at 99 hwy and 134th and made chicken noodle soup in my largest pot. 

If you have a Betty Crocker or Better Homes and Gardens cookbook that is 15 years or older, you've got the recipe.   If not, go to an Antique store and buy one.  Homemade Chicken Noodle soup is cooking 101.  It has a whole chicken, cleaned in the sink, internal bits and extra fat removed with a small knife or kitchen shears.  A good kettle full of water, the chicken, and bring it to a boil and reduce to a simmer.  Add any combination of the following:  A good palm full of granulated chicken broth, an onion chopped, the leaves off a head of celery, Italian fresh parsley chopped, a good palm full of good salt, and several twists off of the pepper grinder.  Simmer on low until the leg bone is loose and pulls away easily.   The first time you do this well, you'll understand this concept.    Set the pot off the fire to cool.  Once it is cool enough to reach in and handle the chicken (1/2 hour), you can do what Paul Dean calls "picking the chicken".  

But first, reserve the broth.  Put a large bowl in the sink and a large colander into it.  Pour the contents of the pot into the colander carefully.  If it is still hot, feel free to run cold water from the faucet into the sink (not in the bowl) to avoid steam in your face and to keep from boiling your sink pipes.  Return the broth less the bits from the colandar into the pot.

Picking a chicken is a very tactile thing.  Get your fingers into it.  Anything that you might want to eat goes back into the pot.  The rest stays in the colander.  This is not an easy task.  Take your time and run your thumb across your fingers.  Feel the chicken and make real decisions.  For me, I pick out the dark blood veins.  There are parts that feel slick or slimy.  They go for me, but that is up to you.  Pick out anything you don't want to eat.  

Broth, chicken, three or four carrots chopped.  2 or 3 celery stalks chopped.  A good mess of fresh green beans or a couple cans of Santiam green beans.  Several good garlic cloves minced.  More salt and pepper.  Start with a 2 t salt and 1 t. pepper. Taste and add more until you are happy.  2 cups dry noodles.  Simmer slowly until the vegetables are done.  Turn off the heat and serve or reheat bowl after bowl as we did.  

Tonight, we are tired of it and ready for a change.   I made a large pot we call "'sgettiti" because I've served it to generations of children who are now adults or near.  I can make it in my sleep and have.  This is a commonly marketed bottle of spaghetti sauce.  The "robusto" version of this sauce, I use with a small tomato sauce and a little additional herbs.  The "original" version of this sauce, I add considerable Italian seasoning and pinches of Cayenne until I get the flavors I want.  Hamburger, browned with salt and pepper.  Spaghetti noodles cooked per the package, drained with extra virgin olive oil poured over top.  I'm impressed with ground beef from the 1/2 cow we bought .  Really nice. 

It is Saturday morning as I post this.  I wrote it on Wednesday.  It was filled with spelling and grammatical errors and faulty thinking, which is not like me.  Not kidding about that Cepacol.  Good stuff.  Or maybe I'm getting better.

Remember that you will breath well at some point in the future .  In the mean time, take good care of your animals, serve the people as best you can, and everything will be fine.

The Cooking "Gene"

There are those who enjoy cooking and food.  There are those who need to find food to eat.  There are various places in between.  In my family, some people have what we call the "cooking gene" while others in the same family do not have it. 

My aunt claims to be among those who don't have the "gene."  Her food strategy is that of a very good hunter and gatherer.  She can find and buy delicious and interesting prepared food all sorts of places.  She brings it home.  They unwrap it and eat it.  She remarkably skilled at this.  They do not suffer.  My sister claimed not to have the "gene," but is finding later in life an enjoyment in the kitchen which she didn't have until just recently.  

I think about food all day long.  I was well into my adulthood when I realized that the average person doesn't think about food the way I do.  But really, cooking every day is a lot of work!  It isn't just time in front of the stove.  There is shopping, planning, organizing, preparation, then clean up. 

I bring this up because I recently had a heavenly few days with many members of the Osborne family.  The wedding of Step-Son and the new Daughter-in-Law, as I've mentioned.  While I really enjoyed the experience of planning and preparing many meals, here's what went into it:

Thursday night:  Pork roast, salad, garlic bread and apple pie.  The roast came from a sale I shopped at several weeks previously and was waiting for me in my freezer.  I started defrosting it in my fridge a several days previous.  The day before I put my homemade roast rub on it and returned it to the fridge.  The afternoon I served it, I made a special trip home from my errands to make sure it cooked long enough.  The salad is a favorite of ours which I have never posted here, so that recipe will be coming up.  The garlic bread is a packaged thing I buy at Safeway.  But the Pie was gravenstien apple and homemade.

Friday morning:  cereal and juice and coffee.

Friday afternoon:  Roast chicken, homegrown green beans and salad for the ladies or those looking for a light meal and brats on a bun for those wanted a grilled thing or more meat.  We figure we served 20 meals.  Some just picked and ate a bit, but we went through some serious food that afternoon.  Thank goodness for my wonderful sister-in-law's help.  I only sent Husband to the store twice that day.

Friday evening:  Wedding reception.

Saturday morning:  Blueberry pancakes, bacon, and eggs.  Some of the guests were leaving that morning.

Saturday afternoon:  A new set of guests.  Thank goodness for left overs.  I pulled out quite a bit of stuff and let people pick and circulate.  I had the leftovers from the wedding reception and the left over wedding cake, which helped.

Saturday night:  Was going to be spaghetti, but Step-Son wanted to use up some meat they had so he grilled,  we made the salad again and garlic bread from the same source.

So here we are now several days past.  Step Son and Daughter-in-law are in Hawaii and I am still cleaning out the fridge and stove burners, wiping splattered cabinets and making a shopping list of staples that got used from the pantry.  What an wonderful experience, but I am still tired.

Eating Raw Dough and Forgiving Grandma

My grandmother firmly believed that it was bad for you to eat raw dough - bread dough, cookie dough and the like.  My grandmother was, let's just say, an opinionated worman.  It was difficult to say no to her. 

I rememeber my mother having fights with her about letting us eat dough.  My mother made noodles, bread, muffins, biscuits.  She was always busy.  And my mother actually encouraged us to eat the raw dough.  I think it was her little way of rebelling against a fairly firm and dominant person.

I have a house full of guests coming later in the week.  A family wedding this Friday.  More on that later.  I'm doing a bit a preparation in the kitchen and pantry for their arrival.  So here I am, mixing dough and scooping out fingerfuls straight into my mouth.  And telling my husband about this story.  He is rolling with laughter, having heard so many stories about my grandmother.

Here, today, Grandma, I forgive you for everything.  I know that you had many challenges and that your life was hard.  Having young children during the Depression must have been difficult.  I don't even know what all of those challenges were.  I wish that I had you here to tell me in a way that my mature mind could understand.  I regret that I didn't listen a little better and try to understand a little more when I was younger.  I know that you did the best you could.  Thank you for teaching me what you knew, protecting me, and feeding me.

Remember to forgive.

August / Calendar change month

Summer means many things to me, a conscientious use of sun screen, berries, grilled food, and changing of calendars.  Yes, I change calendars in August.  At one point, I was a teacher.  Before that, I was a student.  Years ago, I got in the habit of keeping an academic calendar.  This is a version of the calendar that starts in August.  Instead of buying calendar inserts in December, I buy them in July.  I have a very specific preference.

http://www.quovadisusa.com/academic-textagenda-dailybr4-¾-x-6-¾-academic-textagenda-refill-c-115_19_104_2629_109_895.html

I enjoy this change, the smooth, fresh feel of the new one.  I'm making many fresh starts right now - changes at the house due to the flood.  This one seems quite appropriate.

The binding on the old one is broken from heavy use.

Tattered, really.  It's been a hard year.  

The new one is beautiful.  Don't you think?  Full of promise for an organized and prosperous year. 

And already stuffed with recipes.  Remember to make plans and be organized.

Our Flood / Our Renewal

I don't want to get into a rant.  Well, maybe I do.

Late in May, a pipe broke in a bathroom on the second floor of our house.  We were gone for hours while water poured in our house.  When I came home, the garage was flooded with water pouring through the ceiling and out from under the door to the house.  When I went through the door into the house, there was literally water pouring from the can lights on the first floor.

We've been through some interesting challenges in the last month and a half.  Let me first say, thank God for good insurance.  The current tally is around $34,000 damages to our house.  All repairs were covered.  In addition, we've stayed in a motel.  I could not cook.  We basically lived out of the vehicles, the motel room and our business.  The insurance covered our motel and 70% of our eating out bill.  We've had some lovely meals.  I've eaten my fill of my favorite foods.   

But it is times like this, you see what you are really made of.  You also see what the people around you are made of.  I had a couple really good break downs, but we are coming back strong.  Many but not all of the repairs to the house have been made. 

Here is what our kitchen looked like just a month ago.   

And other areas of my house.

And more

 You have to stop and wonder what all the stuff in your life is really worth.  Don't you?  What's important?  And what if it's all gone.  What will you do?

We are coming back soon.  Believe it or not, we live here again.  Have I said thank goodness for good insurance recently?

We are not 100% yet.  We have a ways to go.  We are calling it the Osborne Re-boot.  Check back for more.  Remember not to worry.

My Home, My Hiding Place.

I've been gone for a while, gone from my blog, gone from yoga, gone from other things.  We had a major plumbing problem and a flood in my wonderful house, my haven, my safe place.  Life has an interesting way of sending  us the lessons that we need in the severity that we are able to handle.  Yes, I know that I am safe and loved.  But some how, there is a part of me that feels too vulnerable to the outside world.  I have always built a little nest around me that I could come to for protection and safety, a place to feel good.  I left the house as normal too early in the morning.  There was no problem then.  I came home to make our lunch to find a disaster, water everywhere.  

I called my husband's cell.  He answered and I said, "I need you home.  It's an emergency."  He said, "I'm on my way and hung up."  He didn't question me.  He didn't doubt me.  There was no hesitation.  I spent the next few minutes trying to turn off the water.  I was finely successfull at turning the water off about the time he arrived.  We spent the next 4 or 5 hours working together using our rug shampooer to vacuum up water.  We literally swept it out the door.  It was everywhere.  My hardwood floor is ruined. 

I cried and had a sizeable pitty party.  I drank a little wine.  But here is an observation or two:  First, he was there in a flash.  It is important to know who you can count on in life.  Second, it is important to know that together we can do anything.  We have proven it over and over again.  We are incredibly different people.  When we work separately or against each other, we can just devastate ourselves. But when we work together, our varied styles and our opposite talents, skills and abilities create a sort of synergy.  Anything is possible.

So now, we have an insurance claim.  Thank goodness for good insurance.  It appears that everything is covered after the deductible.   Another lesson to be learned.  We will general contract the repair work ourselves.  This is who we are.  We own a construction company.  We can do this.  We will be okay.   

It appears that some of the work will need to be done with us out of the house.  Our insurance covers a motel room if we have to be out of the house and 70% of our bill eating out if we can't cook in our own kitchen.  I don't want to leave my house.  But ultimately, I know we will be back, bigger and better.  The wood floors will be replaced,  The wet spots will be dryed.  The damaged door frames and dry wall will be replaced.  We'll get through it. 

And like other challenges that we've been through.  And there have been a few.  We'll emerge better and stronger than before. 

I love my husband. Remember to tell the ones you love. 

Managing a busy kitchen

My mother had a job a great deal of the time I was growing up.  This was during a time when the majority of women didn't work (the 60s).  I realize now that they were always needing more money and that was the reason.  I remember little things that let me believe that it was incredibly difficult for her.  They both believed that the house and kitchen was her domaine.  My father did not do much of traditional "woman's" work.   

Not that he was lazy. He was a very busy person and almost always had additional projects.  For example, in the fall, he purchased a wrecked vehicle and spent the winter months rebuilding it in the garage.  I can't say exactly how many winters he did this but several.  To this day, the sound of a man banging around in the garage is quite comforting.  He was always building something, almost like an inventor.  When he decided he needed an air compressor, he took the compressor out of an old refrigerator and built one.  One hobby we had was going place to collect rocks.  He built an agate polisher out of two paint cans and some sort of motor.  We'd put the rocks in the can.  He'd add something other substance, can't remember what.  He'd turn it on and it would shake back and forth all night.  I still remember listening to the rumbling sound in the garage.  Then, like magic, we opened the cans to find polished agates.  As you can tell, I have a fondness for both men and garages. 

We always had some sort of little travel trailer.  We'd go out for the weekend camping.  Mom would cook on an old Coleman lantern.  We'd have a fire.  At bed time, we'd snuggle up in our sleeping bags in the trailer.  We'd wake up completely freezing, so Dad would get up and start the little propane heater in the trailer until we were warm enough to get up.  Mom would start a pot of coffee on the stove in the trailer, an old fashioned purculator.  I didn't taste coffee until I went away to college, but I've loved it from first taste.  I think I associate the smell with the comforting feelings of my safe little world and that purculator.

So what does all of this have to do with managing a busy kitchen?  I have absolutely no idea how my mother managed to produce good food for all of us so consistently.  It is very difficult to come home after a busy day and make dinner sometimes.  I'd like to have some life outside of work and cooking dinner.  When can that happen? 

I've changed my yoga habit from day classes to evening.  This class is important to me, so I'm fairly determined to do it consistently.  I run home and start the preparation for the meal, get everything ready.  Do any sauting or early cooking, then turn it off and head for yoga.  I come back and finish the meal.  Husband has been very helpful and patient, but it isn't easy.   I still need plans for breakfast for me and lunch for the two of us.

I'm going to start chronicalling this problem.  I'm going to be more appreciative of what my mother did.    I'm going to be more appreciative of the help and support my husband gives me.

I'll start with grilled chicken and rosemary.  See the next post.

Remember to be thankful for the little things.

Spring Ramblings

I relate many thoughts I have back to food.  I realize most people don't do that.  I don't know why I do it, but I always have.

So here's what's on my mind this weekend as we work in the garden and yard. 

My parents were complete non-drinkers.  They didn't believe in the consumption of alcohol in any form.  They weren't people who critized others openly, but their disapproval was obvious.  When I was a kid, we had neighbors, an older couple, named Mr. and Mrs. Weber, who made dandeline wine. They'd sit on the porch on a hot evening and have a little.  They poured it into glasses from canning jars.

One night, the Weber's invited my parents over to their porch.  Being hospitable people, the Weber's offered my parents a taste.  At that point, my conservative little mom and dad proceeded to get wasted on dandeline wine.  Oh, they did it quietly, but that's what happened. 

It wasn't talked about, but next weekend  and another hot summer day passes.  The Webers come out to the porch with their evening refreshments.  My parents happen to be out.  They stroll over for a visit.  My sister and I watch them from beneath the old cherry tree as they again get blasted with the Webers.  This event reoccured a number of times that summer. 

It was a good summer.

Easter Chickies and Duckies

Just a little rant from the Osborne Compound.  There is an article in the local newpaper, which says that you shouldn't give children baby chicks or ducklings for Easter gifts because of the increased risk of Salmonella and that anyone who touches a chick or duckling should immediately wash his or her hands.

http://www.columbian.com/news/2010/mar/28/keep-chicks-ducklings-from-kids/

Normally I have a high opinion of our local paper, so this isn't a complaint against the Columbian at all.  It is a complaint against the general dumbing down of our culture and a decrease in basic common sense. 

First, of course you shouldn't give baby chicks or ducklings as Easter gifts for children.  Most children and most households are not prepared to take care of Chickens and Ducks which is what chicks and ducklings turn into.  On the other hand, getting a child an animal that the household is able to care for to teach the child responsibility may be a good thing.  But only, if the adults are aware and able to handle the responsibility and if they believe the child is up to the lessons they will be learning.  The majority of modern households are doing fine with kitties and doggies and can't handle poultry.  

Second, somehow hundreds of generations of human beings have survived contact with small animals.  My mother grew up in a house without plumbing.  They used an outhouse until she was in her early teens.  The human immune system is an amazing thing.   I'm not a doctor, but I believe that the immune system works by being exposed in small doses to all sorts of nasty things throughout a single lifespan.  Todays interest in disinfecting everything may not be in our own best interest.

And third, one of the many responsibilities parents have is to teach age-appropriate personal hygene.  You teach your children to wash up after using the toilet, handling garbage and dirt, and handling animals.  If you are not doing that already, please consider ceasing to have children.

Sorry, about this, but I feel better now.

Lemon Chicken and Rice

Off to Yoga at 5:30 and come back after 6:30.  Husband comes out his cave and we start our evening.

Lemon Chicken.
3/4 c. flour
1/2 t. salt
3/4 c. milk
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts
! T. butter
1 T. canola coil

In one pie place the flour and salt.  In another the milk.  Wash and dry in a paper towel each chicken piece.  Then into the milk to coat   Next, use thongs to move the milk coated chicken piece into the flour mixture.  Carefully move each piece until coated with the flour. 

Now heat the butter and oil in a skillet. Get another clean set of thongs.  With the thongs carefully add the chicken to the skillet cooking at medium high heat until brown on both sided.

Remove the chicken pieces from the pan.  Start a kettle of cooked rice.  Clean 2 big heads of brocolli and start a pan of salted water to boil for cooking the brocolli.

Now the sauce for the chicken. 

Juice of 1 lemon, 1/2 c. dry white wine.  1/2 t. fresh rosemary leaves, finely chopped.  Bring to a boil for a couple minutes carefully scraping up the chicken bits from the bottom of the pan.  Then return the chicken to the pan.  

We watch a show about young Albatross who are hunted by sharks, have some conversation about the kids, what's wrong with the furnace, what laundry didn't get finished and ready to go upstairs, calling the Golden Retriever to join us.

I have one of my hot flashes and throw the covers back.  He carefully removes himself, the sheet, the blanket, the comforter, as I lay there and practice Sleepy Mothers Breath from Yoga class.  Until I reach for the covers again. 

He carefully covers me with sheet and blanket but keeps back the comforter and himself until called for.  And we go back to listening to each others breath and feeling each others warmth.

And suddenly it is morning and time to do it again.

Remember to share your life with someone.

A Few Things You Might Not Know About Me.

First, the Osborne compound generates very little garbage.  I hate garbage and I hate throwing things away.  I'm not a hourder, mind you.  We just don't take much non-consumables into the house.  One way I do that is by buying things with recyclable packaging.  This is my rice.  When it is on sale, a package comes home with me - 5 pounds.  I pour it in an air tight container.  The packaging going into the recycling. 

The next thing you might not know about me.  I'm a yogurt freak.  I've decided to try to make yogurt soon.  I've been researching how to do it and picking the way I want to go about it.  But then what will I do without the neat reusable containers?  I buy the carnivore's meat in large packages when they are on sale and repackage them in yogurt containers.  Everything takes a turn through my freezer.

And the final thing you might not know about me is that I am a post-it freak.  They are stuck everywhere and label everything.

What can I say?  It works for me.

Remember to be organized.

Musings by the Youngest Osborne

Everyone eats at the Osbornes, even the youngest. 

Our grandson.

Meemaw (me) has mushed an over ripe barlett pear into a wet pulp.  It makes yummy eats for a baby. 

Happy to have it.  Thank you Meemaw.

I'm a good baby, Meemaw.

 

 Oh, maybe a little bit more.  I'm a hungry baby.   

Now a little walk with Papa.

Think I'll just hang here in the doorway and watch Meemaw put stuff in the bread machine.  Have I had bread yet, Meemaw?  No, baby, but soon.

Remember to spend time on important things.