Plowin' On Through

Sometimes I miss my children being small. When I think about the days when I could scoop them up and bury my nose in their little necks, the way their skin felt, how safe I always thought they were in my arms...it's easy to miss those days.  I comfort myself with the fact that they will give me grandchildren.  It's been a long wait already and those days are not yet in sight.

So I comfort myself instead with how much fun we can truly have now that they are grown.  Not only can we talk about the price of gas or eggs, but we are finally on the same side of everything.  There is no more hiding certain parts of reality from them.  If only there were!  More importantly, they no longer feel the need to hide certain things from me.  When you think about it, looking back, parents and children do a lot of lying (if only by omission) for the sole reason of "protecting" each other.  It's really silly but so far no one has come up with an alternate plan that ends with children being responsible adults.  Oh, there have been parents and children without these barriers, but they usually end up as a movie of the week.  Not my style.

This post is about some of the lesser secrets of life.  This post is about secrets in the kitchen.  Women are usually the sole conspirators, but the Lord knows that men are not immune, if they happen to spend much time in the kitchen.

Some of the best memories my daughter and I have (so far) is in regard to these secrets.  

When either of the older kids come home now, there is a flurry of activity with greetings and going here and there and catching up. Then we eventually drift to our natural environments, which with me is the kitchen.

The Beautiful Redhead and I had the best time making pies last Thanksgiving.  She left out ingredients and I spilled them all over the counter before we got them in the oven, but I told her not to worry.  "No one will ever know", I said.  "They have never questioned any kind of food I have given them in their entire lives, with the one exception being the time I sprinkled cinnamon over the chicken/broccoli/rice casserole instead of paprika", I said.  She remembered that and we had a good laugh.  That was the year I got bifocals, by the way.  heh heh heh.   But the pies were a roaring success that year, even if we did leave the evaporated milk out.  So if you ever "forget" the evaporated milk or anything, I advise you to plow right on ahead and dare anybody to be able to tell the difference.  My money is on you, my Wooden Spoon Brigade, and I am not even a betting woman.  I will have you know we served those pies just like we knew what we were doing.  And we had a bonding moment as I met my daughter's eyes while all her brothers were eating the pies without any comment except compliments. "Toldjah!"  my eyes said to hers.  "I can't believe we pulled it off!" her eyes answered.  We were in it together, come what may.

So with Easter coming and me being about chocolated out from all the recipes on Facebook last week, (what was the deal with that, anyway?!?!) I was dreaming of something fruity. I found this recipe jello ribbon cake.  It seemed simple enough, so we got started.

As we caught up on our personal lives the cakes were in the oven.  The orange one got done really fast. This was due, I believe, to it being in a glass pie pan, as I have only one round cake pan. I think I used to have another one but it got used in a sandbox or maybe the dogs ate it.  I forget the details. Forgetting the details is what keeps mothers sane.  I highly recommend it.  The cherry one overflowed and burnt in the bottom of the oven. "Do you smell something burning?" I asked, "It's the coffee" she answered. A few minutes later I took out the orange one and let her know the cherry one may be in trouble.  We mixed the filling layer, with me doing the steps and her reading it off, two or three times just to be sure, because this is how we left out the evaporated milk at Thanksgiving.  Learning from your mistakes is very important and a skill that I actively cultivate.  It is especially challenging when you forget details,  just one of the double edged swords of motherhood.  We got the filling done right. 

By then the cherry cake had quit smoking in the oven but it had, unfortunately fallen by the time it cooled.   "Oh well", I said, "we are going to paste this baby together with cream cheese and Cool Whip Frosting, no one will ever know the difference."  About that time the twins were cheering for some basketball team that was making them very happy indeed, and she just smiled.  March madness is a wonderful thing, especially if you don't follow basketball but need privacy in the kitchen.

The cherry cake ended up being able to be sliced in two.  The orange cake came out mostly in pieces, well, more like limestone layers, if you know what I mean. If you don't, you should be feeling superior right now because your cakes probably always turn out normal.  You are lucky if this is the case, but you also have no idea what you are missing.  Where is the challenge if your cakes turn out perfect? What fun is that?  You have no idea how much fun it can be to overcome these obstacles.

So we made a 3 layer cake, with extra filling between both layers.  We were actually starting to look forward to this cake. It did not look like much at this point, it was true, but we were sampling right along and everything tasted wonderful, so we plowed ahead.  I would have taken pictures but I haven't figured out if I can use the camera and the Chromebook together yet, plus I was too embarrassed.  It was all crooked and listing to one side pretty bad.  I could already tell we were never going to forget this cake!

The Cool Whip frosting is wonderful, as I'm sure you guessed.  You should make sure it's all the way defrosted. I don't know why they keep it frozen and it irritates me to death, but only because I have no patience.  I tell you now, IF you insist on frosting your cake too soon, it will smoosh the layers of filling out of the middle of your cake.  Oh, you can get (most) of it back in, but it takes a delicate touch and patience. This is why we have children, it turns out.  They will keep going while you lose your mind and open windows and complain about how hot it is, while drinking coffee.  I love my daughter.  I mean, I love all my kids but who keeps my secrets?  She does.  Who knows my objective when I am in such a state and works along like nothing is wrong?  She does!  Without her I would be lonely in a way that I cannot even begin to express.

By the time the twins were joyously yelling about "Kansas being out" (sorry about your bad luck, there, Kansas) we got the frosting on, threw some jelly beans on top, and it looked a little, well, amateurish.  But I never claimed to be a professional when it comes to cooking.  Never.  Not one single time.  Ever.  This is very important, in case you are making a plan for future disasters in the kitchen. You probably should be.  They come around on a regular basis.

Into the refrigerator it went, to set up (Lord hear our prayer) or possibly break down overnight.  Whatever else Easter brings, it will bring a very tasty if not beautiful cake.  "Don't worry", I said, "they'll never know", I said.  She just smiled at our beautiful creation.

I know that she will hear my voice in her head saying these words, comforting her and giving her strength to plow on through, all the days of her life.  With me or without me.  It's a family tradition.  One that I have no doubt she will pass on.  Someday.  Sigh.

Have a blessed Easter and never lose a chance to make a good memory. Some of my best ones involve what I regarded at the time as complete catastrophes.  Here's to making good memories.

Sick yet?

I survived the blizzard only to get some kind of sinus/cold thing that has brought me low for the last couple of days.  I have made my way through most of a new box of kleenex and have reached the stage where I can be upright without also being dizzy and breathe with my mouth closed.
My solution for this is rinsing out my sinuses with the equivalent of a netti-pot (NeilMed Sinus Rinse), gargling with salt water, and putting a couple of drops of alcohol in my ears at least twice a day.  That would be rubbing alcohol, just saying so that my more heavily drinking followers don't end up with a big mess in their ears.  Just old home remedies, but they work for me.  My children just hate to do all of these practical and free things, and I have to sometimes stand over them to get them to do them, but it is worth it.  Yes, I have insurance.  Big whoop.  I still can't afford to go to the doctor.  If you define "afford" as being able to spend the money on the Dr. instead of gas or food, that is.  But enough of the depressing stuff.
Anyway, the reason for this post is that I have discovered a wonderful new twist to grilled cheese sandwiches.  At least, I think I have.  It's new to me.
Arriving at the Cyclist's house yesterday, blowing my nose and breathing through my mouth, he took pity upon me and offfered me anything he had in his cabinets for lunch.  I don't mean to give the impression that this was a vast array of stuff, it was not.  But there was a can of tomato soup and enough cheese to make a grilled sandwich if I was willing to make it with Beefsteak Rye Bread.  I was.  It was the best grilled cheese I've had in years, maybe ever.  Normally I don't care for Rye bread but in this instance it was really, really good.  You should give it a try.  Unless this is something everyone has known except me, and then I guess you can just welcome me to the club.
The Cyclist offered to fix supper later, and after poring over cook books, we was torn between grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with cole slaw and bacon cheesburgers and tots.  He even went to the store by himself and bought the groceries.  This is a very big deal.  Usually he will concede to drive me to the store, but that is as far as he will go.  When he has to go to Wal Mart for a big grocery spree, he waits until midnight.  Really.  He honestly hates going there more than anyone else I know.  EVEN ME.  It's hard not to respect him for that, don't you think?
Anyway, he came back with groceries and we ended up having bacon cheeseburgers on grilled buns (the secret to a good cheeseburger) with coleslaw on top.
Unconventional but delicious.
I mean, really, really good.  I have had coleslaw on pulled pork sandwiches before and I knew it was good.  We decided to give it a whirl on cheeseburgers, and we were not disappointed.   So, unless this is also some kind of open secret, there is another idea.   Especially if you are stuck in the house and don't really care for coleslaw, but have some on hand.  Try it as a dressing on about any sandwich and I think you will like it.
I felt so much better this morning, having not had to blow my nose constantly and being able to breathe with my mouth shut and everything, I offered to make breakfast.
I made potato cakes, which were ready to go, only had to be cooked, and an omelet.  Easy, right?  Easy if you are used to cooking on an electric stove instead of gas and you don't have someone talking non-stop.  Electric stoves do not hold a candle to gas stoves when it comes to speed or effeciency.  I got two skillets warmed up, but not hot enough.  Finally when they got hot enough to put the food in, suddenly they were really too hot, and my onions were burning before I could get the omelet poured in, the potato cakes were just right but needed more oil, AND the Cyclist was going on and on about something to do with politics which I was trying to listen to but did not really care to hear or discuss at this particular time. 
About the time I was turning the potato cakes and trying to keep the omelet from burning and randomly saying "uh -huh" as if I was listening closely, he says something to the effect of "Oh, you're making really little ones, huh." 
This did not over well.  I was proud that I pretty politely said "Listen, I cannot deal with doing all of this, and listening to you, AND having you criticize me at the same time" (So for the love of God SHUT UP)  I didn't say that last part, but he must have heard it, because the next words I remember hearing him say were "I'm not saying anything else".    I gave him a big thumbs up on that one and managed to save the (small, apparently!) potato cakes from burning.
We are pretty good at fighting.  Which is to say, we are pretty good at accurately stating the problem and then mulling over how we can compromise on something we can both live with.
This gets easier with age, not least because the list of things you really care about is so much shorter once you reach a certain age.
We were able not only to have a civil discussion about why what he said hit me wrong (It was the pressure!  Everything was going wrong at the same time!!), but when I mentioned a few minutes later that he needed a smaller spatula, he jumped up, grabbed one of the two he had, cut the edges off of it and it worked PERFECTLY.  Again, he was my hero.
I should probably mention that the Cyclist used to tell me to use his "little" spatula, and I had the sad job of informing him that his "little" spatula was in fact a cheese slicer.  It seemed mean to tell him, but downright rude not to.  He now knows the difference, thanks to me. 

So I guess the moral of this story is two-fold.
1) You can have some scrumptious meals at home using imagination instead of money.
2) Sometimes it's a good idea to just be quiet for awhile.

And now, I am going to gargle again and lay back down.
I hope you are warm, and well today.
Play fair.  Be as nice as you can, and if you can't be nice, be honest.
In 4 more weeks it will be March.  We about have this one whipped.  Barring more blizzards, but that goes without saying, right?

Blizzard - Seriously

We are having a blizzard.  This blizzard was predicted, prepared for and anticipated madly for at least two days.  The kids came home from school early yesterday and joyously proclaimed that they were not having school today.  Indeed, the blizzard was supposed to start last night here. 

I stayed up until almost midnight reading because I fully expected to wake up and be in the middle of a blizzard.  I marveled at what a difference a "snow day" can make in your life.  We all remember the feeling from childhood of course, but as an adult with a job, snow days are few and far between.  If there is even the slightest suggestion that you may not have to get up and do that same thing at the same time, suddenly everything changes.  Normally I have to drink coffee when I get home in order to stay up until 10 pm, so "tired" am I.  Last night I wasn't tired at all and hated to stop reading even then, but I did because I knew there was the outside chance that the blizzard wouldn't come. Many years of experience has taught me this.  It may not hold true in your life.  I hope it doesn't.  But I do not count on "snow days" until they actually happen.  That's just kind of the way things go with my life.  I 've learned to roll with it.

I think I live most of my life under some kind of deadline pressure, only the deadline never comes.  It's just the perpetual pressure of what I have to do next with a clock ticking, ticking, ticking down in my head.  That needs to stop.  Enough is enough.  Why do we do this to ourselves?  DO other people do that to themselves?  Is it just me?  I know intellectually that there is no "finish line", no "prize", no point at which we will ever be "done", as long as we still live.  But I can't seem to shake the constant checking off of that list and the adding to it. 

So, this is one snow day that will not be wasted.  It will be treasured.  I give myself permission to take a break from the list and the pressure and especially the review of what I did wrong or didn't do at all.

I give you permission too.  

So I wake up this morning, nothing.  Not a thing.  It's just started snowing in KC and Joplin is already buried.  So I figure ok, I'll go to work and stay there till noon or it starts flying, whichever comes first.  Due to the delivery of the new doghouse, I have gotten my car back in the garage, and I am just reveling in the fact that it's inside out of the weather when I push the button to open the garage door and it doesn't work.  See what I mean about my life?  I shelled out the money for a new garage door opener last year and it has never worked right.  The remote almost never worked.  About 1/2 the time you can open it with the keypad on the outside, but most of the time the button works.  Not this morning, but most of the time.  So I sit there and keep hiting the button, which is my technique for things that don't work, and eventually, after stopping and starting repeatedly, it goes all the way up.  I back out the car, have to get back out, hit the button, repeatedly, again, and then have to beat it to make it under the infernal thing before I can even leave to go to work.  I was exhausted already.

So the great Blizzard of 2011 started about 9 am.  It grew steadily worse all morning, cancellations are rolling out of the radio, local law enforcement is advising that visibility is dropping rapidly and basically begging people not to go out, and still no one is calling off work.

I left at noon. I think most people did.  Eventually they all left, thank God, I do not know what time.

What I do know is that we had about 6 inches on the ground when I got home at noon.  If you can believe this, I got the car back in the garage and we battened down the hatches.  I changed my FB status to "let us put on our mother's aprons and cook it up!" and got busy.  I baked brownies, made hot chocolate and got baked beans and tenderloins ready to go for supper.   All this time the snow fell like crazy and the wind blew until you couldn't tell which way it was coming from or going.  We brought in the dogs and attended the Snowpocalypse on FB, ate brownies and watched movies. 

We just went out to check and see how bad it was (and I'm sorry I don't have pictures, but I tried and all I got was a wet camera), and we are officially snowed in, man!!  In front of the garage there is a drift at least 3 feet deep.  There was 8 inches on the porch, most of which I managed to get off.  You cannot tell, at the end of the porch where the steps are, where the steps are.  It's just all snow.  You have to step off and wait till you hit bottom.  The dogs went out and were up to their shoulders.  They had to make it to the street before they could pee! They were pretty excited about it and ran first up the street, then down the street, chased by my Youngest Baby.  He did not have his hat. gloves, or coveralls on either.  But you probably knew that.  The one concession he made was boots, and if he wore them you can bet that there was no other way he could make it off the porch.  He is short on preparation but long on dedication, and between him and me using my meanest voice yelling at the dogs to come back, we got them to come back home.  They had less enthusiasm breaking through the 40 feet of driveway drifted in 3 feet of snow. Never underestimate the effect that the sound of food being shaken in the container  you feed them from.  I recommend using metal container, as the sound carries better through blizzards and stuff.  We are all safe and sound, surrounded by food and many, many blankets.

It's supposed to go on into the night, they are saying.  I don't know when it will stops, but when it does, I am going to have to find someone with a tractor and blade or something to dig me out. 

I talked to my family down south and Neosho is reporting 18 inches.  It will be interesting to see how much we end up with.  I can't see either one of the wagons in the back yard anymore, but with it blowing like this it's really hard to tell how much is on the ground.

Enjoy the blizzard if you are in it.  It kind of makes you feel sorry for the ones who didn't get a snow day, doesn't it?