Enjoy the View

I'm enjoying my view this Thanksgiving Eve...

Do me a favor...

Take a moment to savor yours!

Cousins' Party

My Mom-In-Law has a spectacular tradition.  Each year, her cousins get together for a Cousins' Party! Brilliant!

I wish I had thought of it... but since I didn't, I unabashedly stole her tradition and made it my own as part of my 40th-Year-Progressive-Birthday-Celebration.

 

Blessed am I to have 3 cousins on my mother's side of the family. When you throw my 2 sisters into the mix, that makes a half-dozen cousins (all girls)!

 

 

Do you know what a Progressive Dinner is? Well that has kind of been the general idea for the big 4-zero birthday. I decided before the year even started that I didn't JUST want to have a big shin-dig (although I kind of did that too... How often do you meet someone who matters, who is also only ONE day older than you? I mean we sort of HAD to have a shin-dig... right??!) Sorry for the digression. 

 

 Anyone who has thrown a big wedding/party/event knows that you don't ever get to really visit with all your guests very much. So I thought it would be fun to have a series of smaller, more intimate celebrations. So that's what I have done. Yes... I realize I have sort of beat my birthday into the ground this year... but 40 is a big deal people!

(I'm pretty sure husband is OVER it). 

So when my first-1st cousin asked if she could throw me a party... she got rooked into two parties (sorry hon).  One of which we celebrated last weekend... a Cousins Sleepover!

 

So the sisters came up from Houston and we did all the things you're supposed to do at a slumber party! 

 

Played Girl Talk!

 

 Ate Pizza (just like back in the day)!

  

Watched a chick-flick until the wee morning hours with a bowl of caramel popcorn on our laps!  Made creepy monster cocktails!

 

Modeled our cute mis-matched socks...

 

We had conversations with furniture and talked about boys we like!

 

We laughed!  And laughed some more!

 

We woke up to a Cousins elegant tea party complete with quiche... fresh fruit... tomatoes and basil... hot tea and coffee.  DIVINE!

 

The best part about spending time with people who share your blood is that you just "know" things about each other... you don't have to do a lot of explaining. You totally "get" each other's stories, especially about your crazy shared relatives - (if you happen to be a crazy relative... were your ears burning?)  You don't have to apologize for being loud... and dramatic... and over the top. You can start a story mid-stream because your hearers know the beginning.  You know each other's roots... the healthy ones, as well as the ones that need more water and fertilizer... and you tend to one another.

 

There's something comfortable and cozy about filling up a room with all those common traits... and then swimming in the words and nuances and quirks.

 

So thank you to Bo and Lo (and Aunt Beck) for your hospitality and for putting into motion what I hope will be an annual event.  We're already discussing next year's party in Houston and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my other sweet pumpkinhead cousin Bree can make it in 2013. Thank you sisters for making the trek North! 

 

Although we are cut from the same cloth... we are varied and diverse.   We are corduroy and satin... damask and denim.. silk and lace and flannel.  I'm so thankful for the stitching of faith and family that holds us together...

 

Cousins are an often unmentioned, unappreciated, forgotten branch of the family tree... but I am here to say... COUSINS ROCK!

 

Secret Ingredients... for the first day at a new school.

I know this looks like an ordinary lunch…

Sandwich… Chips…the obligatory piece of fruit. 

But slip on your dimensional bifocals for a moment...

 

You'll see clearly the corner of a prayer tucked into that seemingly empty space next to the chips... that his quirky personality will shine. 
 

There’s a whisper wrapped around the Dr. Pepper can…
for peace to fall upon his heart today as he travels unfamiliar halls. 
 

Underneath the innocent apple lies a breath...
held long to hold back tears for this transition dreaded. 
 

Hidden under the foil are fragments of awe and amazement…
that my first born has reached this set of stairs... 8th grade and 13 years.
 

Folded in between the slices of turkey and triangles of Swiss is a mother’s earnest plea... that son will find his place in this bright new space. 
 

Into every crevice remaining... liquid love… anticipation… and hope… have been poured. 

 

The lid is closed tightly, sealing gratitude for 

new acquaintances that will ripen into old friendships...

for quieted fears...

for a day...

and a year, much like this lunch, 

 layered with promise...

and secret ingredients... 

 

 

 

 

A Cookbook Worth the Wait

About 5 years ago, Grandmom and Grandad began teasing the family with a "cookbook under construction".  They announced at Christmas that they were compiling many of the family recipes into a cookbook for the girls of the family... We got a glimpse of the book, but then it went back into the bag... "We're not finished yet!", they'd say with a giggle and a wink.  

Each year, we got a peek at the treasure in various stages of completion. 

Three years ago in June, Grandad went home to be with the Lord, his bed surrounded by melody and souls he loved. 

This past Christmas (insert drum roll here)...

Grandmom presented... the... finished... cookbook!

"It was a hard journey", she told us... to finish the book without Grandad at her elbow (which is where he sat for the majority of this fine project)... but she DID it!

It is so much more than a cookbook... it is really the story of a lifetime... told over steaming plates of "Ruby's Chicken with Yellow Rice" and "Beef Stroganoff My Way"... with a sweet little taste of "Chantilly Cream" and "Fluffy Tapioca Puddin".

Not only is the book laden with recipes, but it is also dripping with stories... little explanations of why this recipe was important... or the aunt who passed it along in the first place... photographs... comic strips... quotes... and Creole Proverbs from Belize.

(There's a world famous story in here about Tapioca pudding that's worth repeating... but I'll save that for another day.)

I considered pulling a "Julie and Julia" type maneuver and cooking every recipe in the book... until I got to Frog Legs.  I haven't decided if I can make it through that one... Where would one go to buy frog legs anyway... cuz I'm NOT going to the creek!

Sometimes the best place to start... is the beginning.

Page one is... Stuffed Celery 2 ways. 

One sweet (Grandmom's favorite)... and one savory (her 2nd favorite). 

"Mother always had these celery sticks on the table at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and it was my job to 'string the celery', and under her supervision, I'd mix the stuffing.  I've made these many times for our Christmas dinner too. I've enjoyed other recipes for these, but this is my favorite ~ and next favorite"

Now... maybe I'm just behind on Celery World History... but I had no idea that you could take those pesky strings out of those ribs! Alas... You just  cut the ends of the celery and pinch those strings in between your fingernails/tweezers... and pull.  Little curly ribbons of annoyance pull away from the crispy celery heart and pile up nicely in a tangled pile.

Here are the finished products... One filled with a bleu cheese concoction... and the other with a cherry cream cheese blend.  I loved them served side by side... split celery personalities.

Hooray for stringless celery stuffed with goodness! 

Thank you Grandmom and Grandad for pouring your time and memories into pages that will nourish our bodies and souls.. for years to come. 

This cookbook definitely goes on the official "Things I'd Save if My House Caught on Fire" list.

Sweet Stuffed Celery Sticks

10 crisp, tender celery ribs

1 jar maraschino cherries

1 pkg cream cheese

1/2 cup pecans (optional)

Clean celery and trim away the "strings". Dry well with paper towels and cut into 4 inch lengths.  Take out several cherries and chop into small pieces.  In a small bowl combine the softened cream cheese and the chopped cherries.  Add 2 or 3 Tbsp of the cherry juice to thin the cream cheese ~ but don't get the mixture too thin.  Blend until smooth.  If desired crush pecans and add to the cream cheese.  Mix well and fill each celery piece with mixture.  Garnish with a small piece of cherry on top. Chill before serving.

Savory Stuffed Celery Sticks

10 crisp, tencer celery ribs

1/2 cup bleu cheese, crumbled

1 pkg cream cheese

3 Tbsp sour cream

1/2 cup pecans or walnuts, chopped (optional)

Clean celery and trim away the "strings". Dry well with paper towels and cut into 4 inch lengths.  In a small bowl combine the sour cream, softened cream cheese, and bleu cheese. Stir until blended.  Finely chop the nuts and fold in (reserve some for garnish).  Fill the celery cavity with mixture.  Chill before serving.

Note 1: I put my mixtures in a ziploc bag, snipped a hole in the corner and "piped" the mixture into the celery cavity.  Worked like a charm! 

Note 2: Look at the picture of the celery stick recipe... Do you see those hand written words "Date Tried ________ Comment ________"  That's Grandad's lefty handwriting.  It's an important part of the masterpiece for me.

Note 3:  If you happen to be a buffalo wing restaurant entrepeneur... put this on your menu tomorrow! They'll make you famous.

My Lamp has a Waist!

So what's a girl to do with a beautiful vintage accessory that fits the waist of a 20-year-old??

Say no to homemade peach ice cream? I don't think so!

Find a different way to show it off of course!

My Mom wore this belt back before I was a twinkle in her eye and thought I might like it.

As a matter of fact I do!

The thought of stuffing it into a closet seemed sinful.

So I began to look around the house for a creative way to display it...

Turns out my Nanny's old lamp has a perfectly sized waist! Who knew!?!

My lamp said she just felt like something was missing her whole life...

now she feels... complete! 

If only all of life's dilemma's were solved with a beautiful accessory!

Fortress... in the Living Room

Nothing says... summer... like a fort in the living room!

Ingredients:

• Every blanket/quilt in the house
• Kitchen chairs (minimum 4)
• Cushions from the couch (optional)
• Clothespins or binder clips for holding blankets in place
• A willing Mom and/or Dad
• A little imagination 

Common Uses:

• Reading Spot
• Taking a nap
• Imaginary castle... spaceship... covered wagon, etc...
• Hiding
• Whispering and Giggling
• Daydreaming
• Playing board games
• Shadow puppets with flashlights
• Hours of fun until the parents want their living room back!

Directions:

• Gather Ingredients, Build, Enjoy!

The Games We Play

We are so blessed to live just down the street (literally) from so much of Husband's family!

This translates into lots of "get-togethers". 

(Get-together is just country for "party")

Our house is small, but that doesn't mean we limit our guest list!

People... conversation...  and activities spill into every room...

and then if we run out of rooms (or if it's a pretty day),
we just throw up a table in the yard.

If you come to one of our soirees you're likely going to get roped (not literally) into playing either

Chicken Foot... or Washers.

We love both games because men, women, children and livestock of all ages can compete!

(I was just kidding of course about livestock participation. This is strictly a human activity... even though it is named after a barnyard friend... I'll explain that momentarily.)

Chicken Foot

Chicken Foot is a domino game, played with double 9 dominoes. 

Yep... that means 9 dots on each end. 

When there's a REALLY big group we pull out the double 12's.

(You sometimes need a calculator to count the final score.)

The game is so named because when you play a "double" it must be "covered" with 3 matching dominoes... creating a sort of "chicken foot"... see the toes?

The reason niece has a pouty face is because she's holding the "double blank"... that baby is worth a whopping 50 points (and the goal of the game is to have the LEAST points).

With all those dots she's clearly going in the wrong direction.

When it gets too dark... or the mosquitoes begin snacking on us,

we just move the chicken feet to an inside table!

Trust me... you'll love it. Go buy some double 12's!

Washers

We discovered washers just last summer but apparently the game has been around... well... forever... and even though we're newbies, we're pretty much hooked. 

Since the discovery, the men in the family have built numerous and sundry variations of the board. 

This game is quite simple.

Each player gets 3 colored washers.

(Yes, actual washers from a hardware store, spray painted different colors in groups of 3)

The matching boards (with 3 holes cut into each) are placed 10 feet apart.

Players then toss their washers toward one board, while touching the other board with a foot.

There are different stances for "the toss"

Some rest one foot on the board (see Husband above)

Some stand completely on the board (see Little Brother)

Whatever your stance...

a washer in the top hole is worth 3 points,

one in the middle hole scores you 2 points,

and a sinker in bottom hole gives you 1 point

The first one to 21 wins!

There are apparently MANY "official" rules for this game, (do a google search)

but the way we figure it... as long as all the players agree, there's no RIGHT way.

Our family has put our own twist on things (shocking).

There are some special "tricks" to which we've assigned special names as follows:

GRANDPA

Three 3's in one toss!

(This is a grandpa because Grandpa Work was the first one to accomplish it)

FARMER's WIFE

Three 2's

(So named because yours truly was the first to hit this combination.)

PINE TREE

Three 1's

CIRCLING THE WAGONS

This is when you leave 3 washers on the board. Booo.

FLAT TIRE

Two 3's and a 2

(You were sooo close to a GRANDPA but flattened out on that last toss)

SNOW MAN

a 1, then a 2, then a 3

(We keep adding to the list of course)

You are welcome to adopt our lingo... or make up your own...

But whatever you do... talk a lot of smack... work on your technique...

practice, practice, practice...

and do some serious rejoicing when you win. 

My group certainly does!

Where can you get a Washer board?  We've found them at local flea-market-type-spots. 

(If you live in Dallas they have them at Trader's Village.) 

If you're the handy man (or woman) type you can find instructions on how to build your own on the internet.  (Is there anything you CAN'T find on the web?)

WARNING: This activity is addictive.  Do not be alarmed or surprised if your enthusiasm is contagious and you end up with more than one "set of boards" and/or corrupt your friends and family with Washer Fever. =)

My Garden... the Time Machine

Any number of things can "take you back"... to a different time and place.

A song... a scent... a voice.

This past week... my garden caused the wrinkle in time. 

okra... yellow crook-neck squash... zucchini... tomatoes... black-eyed peas

I watched my "Nanny" (Colorado Dad's Mom) pull these same plump treasures from the ground, just a few miles South of where my little house sits. 

Followed behind as her apron pockets filled up and spilled over. 

I helped her hull black-eyed peas... our fingers forcing out the fresh green kernels.

Hers weathered and wise... mine small and nimble.

The thing that carried me away today were the sounds...

As I sat on my own porch hulling peas, I closed my eyes and listened.

I let my ears travel... tilted my head toward a different porch...  a different garden.

A two-story structure on Lee Street in Red Oak, Texas that my Nandaddy built.

Faintly at first... but the frequency quickly grew stronger.

...the aluminum screen door on the front porch ~ tension spring set just a little too tight ~ quickly popping closed with a hollow rattle... the drone of the window unit ~ the drip drip drip of condensation outside on the black soil... the scrape of the sliding glass door... the slowing down of a vehicle ~ tires changing surfaces from asphalt to gravel... the cuckoo clock ticking away seconds above the kitchen table... the internal whir right before the tiny door would click open and little bird would sing out... the startling ring of the baby blue rotary phone... the sound of The Price is Right on the television... her laughter... Nandaddy's voice from another room...
water running in the kitchen sink...

Do you have a place you'd like to visit again?  Close your eyes...
Listen.  Find the symphony where you thought there was only silence.

As sit on my front porch... pinching peas into one bowl... hulls and strings in another... I don't need my eyes to do this chore... my fingers work by touch alone...

I help Oldest Son study for his 7th-grade Texas History final...

I listen intently to this moment... the cadence of questions and answers... repetition of troublesome facts... wind blowing...

I hope he will remember the sounds of this day...

studying at a picnic table stacked with yellow and green...

dirt still clinging...

little brother popping in and out of doorway distracting...

the zipping by of an occasional hummingbird... his mother's voice asking and answering... wheat ready for harvest whispering sweet nothings in our ears.

My Belizean Heritage

There is a space inside my Mom that is full and empty.

Seeping through the edges are the

faces...

songs... 

stories...

scents...

humidity...

tears...

joy...

regret...

laughter...

music...

sacrifice...

grace...

and food...

of Belize!

She's an MK (missionary kid)...

She spent several years in Belize with her parents... brother and sister. 

They ministered, evangelized and sang!

They even cut two records!  Here's the cover of one of them.

Mom's in the pink dress... Little sister Sue in the white dress... and Mickey standing behind.

My Grandmom and Grandad are seated in the middle.

Mickey, Pat and Sue were (and still are) quite the trio. 

There is nothing like blood harmony.

I love this picture... it is so... classic.

I was helping Mom edit some of her memories and stories of Belize recently and this sentence sent me on a journey.

"Beans and rice were the most common and delicious food. Of course there were several types of bananas, breadfruit,and chicken fixed with Recado, a special blend of seasonings I still crave."

Surely Recado (aka Ricardo, Recardo) could be found online. 

So... I Googled... I found... I purchased!

If you're curious and want to order your own... www.bluefield-prod.com

For Easter Grandmom coached me through the preparation of...

Belizean style beans and rice... chicken "stew" with Recado... banana and cabbage slaw

 (I know... sounds weird but it was actually one of my favorite parts of the meal)...

 and fried plantains.

She's wearing plastic gloves because the red color of the Recado spice will stain your hands! So if you handle it... you've been warned.

You take the spice (it looks sort of like a bouillon block but softer) and mix it with a little vinegar (just until it is a thick paste).

Then you rub the chicken generously with the red Recado mixture and let it sit for at least 20 minutes before throwing it into the frying pan. 

(A cast iron skillet works best Grandmom says, but we didn't have one...

so Teflon did pretty well in a pinch.)

We even got husband into the kitchen for some moments of heavy lifting.
I just love a man with a hot pad!

So what does Recado taste like? 

It's not spicy... like you might imagine judging it by it's fiery red color. 

It is more smokey... maybe paprika in nature.  I did a little research and found that it is made from the annatto seed. 

Mom says it tasted like she remembered... so mission accomplished.

It was down home and rich and the combination of all the items we put on the table was at the same time familiar... and exotic.  I liked it.  I'll make it again.

The best part though, was cooking with Grandmom. 

Listening to the stories and memories...

Reminiscing while the kitchen filled up with fragrance from another life.

Belize is a ghost for me too, certainly not in the same way as it is for those who lived there... but I feel it sometimes.  Somewhere deep in my gut... is a mutated gene inherited from Mom.  It forms the shape of a small country.  It is a warm glowing seed that I don't fully understand. I visited once when I was in college.  One of the souls they loved there... the Other Brother Wright... picked me up and showed me around.  He took me through the rooms where the Wright Family had poured out ministry and song. 

Beautiful ebony faces sang to me as if I was a princess from another land... and I wept.

I was home... and yet I was not.

This is the ache Mom feels... multiplied eternally.

It was so strange... to return to a place I had never been before.  

It's Snowing!

Every year...

in April... sometimes May

it snows.

It isn't North Wind... or Jack Frost who brings the white...

It isn't chilly... or cold... or even wet.

But it is this great lady which blankets my lawn with her downy offspring. 

The Texas Cottonwood.

Husband gets grumpy.

Everyone starts sneezing.

It gums up the mower.

But I always smile when I see her first fluffy refugee flying across my yard.

She is majestic... and lovely.

At times it looks as if a giant pillow fight has taken place on the grass...

bits of her pollen filling in the low places...

rolling down the roof in tiny soundless avalanches of poof.

If you look closely here... you can see them flying... little white specks... orbs... dancing free.

Littering the lawn...

Tiny puffs poised in the sunlight...

Ready to take flight with the slightest motion.

I have a co-conspirator!
A compatriot who joys in her messy shedding... delights in the simplicity of it... her pirouettes of whimsy... flecking the air with melodies of movement. 
Her daughters harmonize with the laughter of my boy. 

I don't care what anyone says... I love that tree.

And now I am not the only one.

I have swayed a Cottonwood Rebel to my side!