IDEA

How about if, for every soldier we bring home from Afghanistan and Iraq, we send four wild hogs from Texas?

Also, how about training wild hogs to sniff out cocaine, then turn them loose in Mexico, along our borders? They also could be used for sniffing out pot runners.

Quote of the Week: 8/29/2011

"It's no use boiling your cabbage twice."

Irish proverb

FAMILY AND FRIENDS: We, the people. . .

You know, it used to be that families stayed together. Living in the same house. Now, homes are not as big as they used to be. You had a HUGE kitchen. And everyone ate meals together. Now it is hard to get the family together in one spot for an hour or two. Everyone has something going on. School, baseball, soccer, ballet, and the list goes on and on. And the parents are just as busy.

It used to be that the grandparents lived with you. Everyone had chores to do. I can remember having to take the trash out. We burned our trash. But that is not allowed any more. Whole families used to get together for the holidays: your grandparents, and great grandparents if they were still around, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles. Sometimes it seemed that you had relatives show up that you only saw on the holidays. Everyone always brought something with them for the table. It seemed that you had enough food to feed an army.

Then, you had neighbors. They would stop by. Maybe have a bit of cider or eggnog. They might drop off a plate of goodies to munch on. In the summertime, we would set on the front porch and just kind of watch the world go by. Kids playing, the guy down the street mowing his yard, and others would set on their porches also. It seemed to be a better way of life. Not so rushed. Now everyone is in such a hurry. They are in such a rush all the time, that they do not see what's going on around them.

Kind of like today. Do you have a garden? Do you know if your neighbors have one? Do you even know or talk to your neighbors? How many friends do you have? I'm not talking about friends at work, or the store, or the gym. I'm talking friends that really matter to you.

If we had a natural disaster right by you, would you help the guy down the street? Would you be willing to help feed people from your own supply of food? This country is having some problems that could get a lot worse than what they are. And we need to stand together like we did on 9/11. We need to protect ourselves, but we need to help one another also. Would you help your friends?

I would. And I hope that they would want to help me also. I know of at least one family right now, in Kansas, who have a farm and the whole family has banded together. There are 20 or more people in this family not counting the kids. All of the adults hold jobs right now and they seem to be pretty supplied to take care of them selves and some of their friends and neighbors.

So, maybe it is time to walk yourself around the neighborhood. Talk to your neighbors. Maybe invite them over for iced tea or something. Get to know them. Be friendly. One day if you need help, they just might be the ones to save your bacon.

We are all one family. And we should all stand together in times of need. And hope and pray that that time never rears it 's ugly head. Maybe we should start another political party. And call it
WE, THE PEOPLE

Making Vanilla: FEED YOUR FACE

Real vanilla is expensive. Imitation vanilla doesn't taste as good, and some of them taste like chemicals to me.

I saw on a blog how to make vanilla extract yourself. That's a good idea, right? That way you control what goes into it and how much. And the ingredients can be way less expensive than buying the prepared product.

So, we sent away for some vanilla beans. The vanilla beans I found at the grocery store were dried up and you only got 3 beans for about six dollars. I bought vanilla beans on amazon.com (pure Madagascar vanilla beans), 16 for about $10. (Though if anyone wants to tell me where to get quality beans for even less, do tell!)

I saw Suzanne McMinn's process on Chickens in the Road. She knows how to do a LOT of things and make a lot of ingredients herself. She even taught me how to make homemade cake mix. Yay!

So, anyway, we followed her method, but we are using just a little bit different alcohol, just to see. Here is her recipe for the "big bottle method."

I love orange vodka. Well, I love lots of flavors of vodka! But I usually have orange on hand. So, our first batch is made with orange vodka.

Not to be left out, Jim wanted vanilla made from Jack Daniels whiskey.

So, that's what we did. It takes about 3 beans per cup of alcohol, and it takes about 4 weeks for it to "do."

We'll let you know in about 3 more weeks how it went. Here are our pictures (and I recommend you follow Suzanne's instructions).

Quote of the Week: 8/22/2011

"No matter what business you're in, you can't run in place or someone will pass you by."


Jim Valvano
American college basketball coach

FEED YOUR FACE: CANNING THAT YOU CAN CAN

My parents, grandparents, and great grandparents all canned food themselves. And a lot of what they canned we can buy at our local stores, already canned and ready to open, warm up, and eat. There are some who still do home canning.

Home canned corn tastes so much different than the store-canned corn. Everything I have ever had from home canning tastes so much better, and all the vitamins and stuff are still there. No additives like they put into all the store canned goods!

One year, Mom and Dad put up over 300 quarts of green beans, 50 some odd quarts of potatoes and corn. Not to mention how many quarts of tomatoes. And we won't even start on how much jelly and jams they have done. They canned just about everything that you can can. Even bread and semi-cooked pork sausage, as well as fish and some other meats.

Well, I came across a blog where they have home-canned bacon. I have heard of store bought canned bacon. But never home canned bacon. Check it out at:
http://www.rual-revolution.com/2011/01/canning.bacon.html

I think that we will try this real soon. Course, keeping from cooking it all and eating it all will be a problem. You can this bacon raw, do the pressure can thing, and put on the shelf. Pretty neat. So for all of you canning people, maybe this is something to try the next time bacon is on sale at the store. At our house, we can NEVER have to much bacon.

So check it out. Give it a try. And let me know what you think.

OUR AMERICA

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

I grew up with this pledge. We used to say it every morning before school started. How many schools say it today? I think that it should return to our schools. I think that every school child should know it. If it offends someone? Oh, well. Get over it.

It seems that we have something that states "We the People." Well, what has happened to "The People"? Where are the ones who speak for the people? How many of us have paid the most, by the loss of loved ones. And what of the ones we lost from 9/11? When will we hold our heads high again as a nation? Have we forgotten something along the way?

Maybe it is time for each and every one to take some time. And look, really look, at ourselves and our country. We CAN fix this country. Let's do what needs to be done instead of passing the buck. The blame game gets us nowhere.

For we are one nation. We are the people of the United States.

Quote of the Week: 8/15/2011

Moderation. Small helpings. Sample a little bit of everything. These are the secrets of happiness and good health.
-- Julia Child, Chef

FEED YOUR FACE: Sourdough

How long has it been since you had some sourdough? I had some sourdough pancakes years ago that were made from a sourdough that I was told was 60 some years old. That's a long time to have sourdough.

The sourdough had been in the family for years, and came from a sourdough kit that his great grandma had started. Sourdough is fun and quite good. And the things you can make are mouthwatering. You're only limited by what you can't think of.

Here is a sourdough starter with yeast. And then, one with out yeast. You need:
1 envelope yeast
1 tbsp sugar
1 1/2 cups warm water (not hot water -- you should be able to comfortably stick your finger in it)
2 cups flour
1 tsp salt

Dissolve the yeast in the warm water, then mix in the other ingredients. Place the dough in a covered dish and set it aside in a warm place for 1 or 2 days. (We have ours in a little crock jar.)
Always leave at least 1 cup or more of your starter for seed. Replenish it with 1 cup flour and a cup of milk or water. Your sourdough starter may be delayed for a few days when kept in your fridge. But it still does its thing, only slower. Which can sometimes be a good thing.

Sourdough starter without yeast
2 cups warm water
2 cups flour
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
Mix well, and store in a covered dish for several days in a warm place. And, again, replenish with 1 cup of flour and 1 cup of milk or water. And always leave at least 1 cup of your starter for seed. And this starter will also be a little delayed when kept in your fridge.

Now make some up, make some pancakes with some blueberries! Fry an egg or two, throw in some bacon, and you will have nothing but smiles all around the kitchen or deer camp. Or make some bread from your starter, and get out the butter and homemade jam.

S0, quit drooling, get with it, and start some sourdough! You won't be sorry. Just make sure you have enough napkins to go around, 'cause every one will want some.

So, FEED YOUR FACE!! And enjoy.

Quote of the Week: 8/8/2011

"I think we may safely trust a good deal more than we do."

Henry David Thoreau
American Transcendentalist and writer

OLD SAYINGS FROM DAYS GONE BY

Here are a couple of quotes from them good old boys, cowboys.

Don't squat with your spurs on.

Talk slowly, think quickly.

and

Never miss a good chance to shut up.

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES: Our "Help"

Where to begin! I just finished reading The Help. I hope that some of you have read this book. If not, please give it a read. I found it to be a very true-to-life story for many of us who lived in the South during that time period (the 1960's).

I was born in Fort Worth, Texas, in 1956. My sister was born 2 years earlier, here in Colorado. Our father was in the Air Force at that time. He was stationed in Little Rock, Arkansas. We lived in Little Rock, and then moved to Russellville, Arkansas. We were probably 2 and 4 at the time.

Now, at this time, my Dad had divorced my birth mom and he had remarried. The marriage was not the best in the world. He had to work all week at the base in Little Rock. He would come home to Russellville on weekends. I think our stepmom wasn't really ready to have a ready- made family.

They had fights, arguments, shouting matches, and such when they were together. My sister and I would set a foot or two from the TV and crank up the volume so we could not hear them. I know that this sounds really harsh, but I think that they did the best that they could. But my sister and I think that they were just not really ready to settle down and raise a family. So, the stage is set.

My sister and I shared a bedroom, just like a lot of kids have had to over the years. We were living in a little pink house in Russellville. There were kids to play with and lots of things to do. Also, a lot of things to get into.

Our Dad had bought a beauty salon for our stepmom, so we had to have someone come to our house to watch over us while she was at the salon working.

I wish that I could remember Nanny's name. She was black and overweight. She took care of us. Boy, could she cook.

Every morning before our stepom left for work, our breakfast consisted of a bottle of CocaCola and we each got a slice of cinnamon bread. Then we were to set on the couch after our stepmom would leave for work and wait for our nanny.

I'm sure that we didn't set for more than 10 minutes or so, if that. Almost as soon as she left and the door closed behind her, my sister and I were on the move. We were hungry, and the soda and toast was not enough to two little hungry tummies.

We would run into the kitchen. I would open a drawer and get out two spoons. My sister would pull out drawers to make steps so she could climb to get up to the cupboards, and she would get two cereal bowls. Then we would run out to the back porch where there was a big bag of dry dog food for our dog, Snowball.

We would scoop dog food into our bowls, then we then would come back in the house and my sister would get the milk out of the fridge and pour it into our bowls. We would wolf down our "dog cereal," as we called it. Then my sister would climb up on the counter, rinse the bowls and spoons, and she would put the used bowls on the bottom of the stack of clean cereal bowls, and I would put the spoons under all of the other spoons, then we'd run and get back on the couch to wait for the lady who watched us to arrive.

Our new nanny caught us getting our dog cereal once, and from then on she would fix us breakfast every day, sometimes bringing it with her from home. She cleaned our house every day. And she always had something for us to do.

At lunchtime, we had the best things to eat. She made us fried chicken, with watermelon for dessert. Her chocolate cake was the greatest! We grew to love her, and she grew to love us.

She was like a mother to us -- only better. She made over us just like we were her own.

Once, we had to go into town. We got on the bus. She placed me and my sister in a seat at the front of the bus, then she went to the back of the bus to find a seat for herself, since she was not allowed in the front.

We had maybe gone two blocks when the bus stopped to take on some more people. This guy, whom I can only say looked like a bum, sat next to us on the same seat. Well, he scared the crap out of me and my sister. We jumped out of our seat and ran to the back of the bus to climb up into our nanny's lap.

The bus driver stopped the bus, and came back to speak to Nanny. He told her that we had to set up in the front of the bus with the rest of the white folks. Nanny told the bus driver that we were scared of the guy that was in our seat. The driver told her that we either had to sit up in the seat we had been in, or we would have to get off the bus.

So the three of us got off the bus and walked the rest of the way.

One time, our Dad came home early. Nanny was there, cleaning up the house. She was nervous, 'cause it was the first time she would have seen our dad. Right before he came home, she was dusting the coffee table and she had dropped this real big heavy ashtray on it. It left a huge scratch, and you could see the bare wood. Well, she took a couple of cigarettes, unwrapped them, and put the tobacco in her mouth. It seemed that she had that tobacco in her mouth for an hour, but it was probably just a few minutes. She took that wad of tobacco out of her mouth, put it on that big scratch, and she rubbed and rubbed. Soon you couldn't see the scratch! She swore us to never tell, and we didn't! That is, not until about 25 years later. Dad had never known. She could have lost her job with us, I'm sure, if our stepmom had found out.

My dad and stepmom divorced after just a short time, and the three of us moved to Colorado. But I would think of Nanny often.

When I was 9 or 10, we had to make a trip to Arkansas. Our former stepmom took us to see Nanny. We were so glad to see each other! She made over us, just like she did when we were small.

She was a lot older and grayer. But she still had that light in her eyes that she always seemed to have when she would walk in our door and see us all those years ago.

I don't know how many kids she took care of over the years. My sister and I have often wondered whatever became of her. She loved us, and we loved her.

All these years later? I'm sure that she has passed on. And I'm just as sure that she, and all of the black ladies who took care of kids all over the South, are in heaven, taking care of all of the little ones.

I plan to find her name and where she is buried. I'll go visit her at her gravesite. Thanks to her, my sister and I were able to survive a real rough spot in our lives. I am forever grateful.

Pumpkins

The garden has been pretty sad this year. It got pelted with hail more than once, drowned in rain during two wet spells, and has been experiencing temperatures over 90 degrees for nearly 3 weeks.

The plum tomatos are protesting, first with blossom-end rot because of the inconsistent moisture, now with refusing to put on more blossoms.

The onions have been beaten down and are hiding out.

The grapes we had were knocked off the vine by the hail, so it looks like we'll have to skip this year.

BUT -- the pumpkins, though beaten with the same hail, and subjected to the same moisture and heat, are still interested in producing in the garden.

Come on Fall! We're going to have pumpkins!

Quote of the Week: 8/1/2011

"Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties."

Erich Fromm
German - American psychologist

MORNINGS

How is your morning? Do you get up all grumpy? Do you stay that way until that first cup of coffee? Or, maybe you get up bright eyed and bushy tailed. (How long since you heard that one?) Or maybe you're one of THEM. You know, those people who jump out of bed and then go out to run several miles before breakfast.

Well, not me; I do enough running in my dreams. I sure do not need to do it in real life, unless I'm being chased by a bear or a ticked off milk cow. (Don't ask.) The only thing I can see good about running is that it makes me more hungry. (Anyone up for BBQ for breakfast? YUM!)

Nope. I kind of like my mornings to start off nice and slow.

Take your time, relax some from sleeping all night. Have that extra cup of coffee. Lounge in your jammies or nightie or whatever it is you wear -- or don't wear. But, please put something on before you cook anything for breakfast. We don't want anything getting burnt that you might really need later on.

But, what's up with these health nut people who have to hit the floor running! Where's the fire? Can't you do your running at work? Like, run the stairs. Do a sprint between the desks, leap the file cabinets. Do push ups before and after a presentation. Make your boss count them off.

Watching people that early in the morning, jogging along before work, makes ME tired just watching them. I know, we all need to be more active. And our waistlines are getting larger. But damn, it took me a lot of years to get my Isle of Belly! I'm now thinking of letting some company advertise on it just to make a few extra bucks.

Or, maybe there is a market for belly fat that they can use in lipstick. Like, Isle Of Belly Red. Or Isle Of Belly Luscious Pink. You could have Isle Of Belly lips all day long. Your husband will have to fight off other guys. Your lips will be kissable soft all day.

Course, with every day use, you might end up with love handle cheeks on your face. OK, maybe, I should try to work out a bit more. BUT! Not before I have had a good breakfast. And my morning quart of coffee. Some mornings its harder to wake up than other mornings. Now let's see. . . coffee, bacon, eggs, pancakes, another cup of coffee. Oh yeah! Some orange juice for your health, and some homemade syrup or molasses for the pancakes.

And we are not even going to talk about what's for lunch. So, we need to get off our duffs. Work them duffs! Let's see if we can be more like THEM. (I sometimes think that they are aliens from another planet. Look at them the next time you see one running so early in the morning.)

NINTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

Well, today is our ninth wedding anniversary. And what are you supposed to get your spouse? If it was our first, I could get her something of paper, like a 4 pack of toilet paper. You know. Something useful. Or, if it were our tenth, it should be tin or aluminum. So, a six pack might be in order. And who makes anything out of tin any more?

She has jewelry, and some diamonds. And she got a new stove several years ago. She has ALL the pampered poo poo (Pampered Chef ) stuff for the kitchen. She has more collars for Nugget. He could wear two a day, and still not go through them all in a week. And she has some really nice clothes. And I urge her on to get more. And she has a spouse that would give her the moon if he could. (I'm whupped, and I know it. But so is she. ) Course, what in the heck would you do with the moon?!

If I try to talk her into getting something for herself, besides Sonic, she lots of time refuses. (She hardly ever refuses a drink from Sonic!)

She says that she has all that she wants. And of course, being male, I take her at her word. BUT, sometimes when a female says she has all she wants. That what it really means is that there is still that ONE thing. That us guys have NO idea what in the world it is. And if we ask, you all say there is nothing else you want. AND, that is why most of us older guys, have no hair, 'cause we pull it out trying to think of what it is you want. And we have no teeth, 'cause we are grinding them down knowing that there is that ONE thing, that we have never gotten you.

We end up with sun spots all over our bodies, spending hours and hours out in the hot sun, going from store to store in search of that ONE thing. And you think that when we are out in the garage on our anniversary, instead of spending time in the house with our lovely spouses, we are really calling everybody we know (male of course ) and every store we can think of, (Target, Wal -Mart, Sears, Bass Pro, and the like) trying to get a lead or a hint of what that ONE thing is.

I can't even pull a Fred Flintstone and get her a bowling ball. She already has one! With even her own shoes and bag.

The new stuff they say is for your ninth anniversary is leather. And we both know that we have plenty of that. So I won't say any more.

So, here is to my wife of nine wonderful, fun filled, and romantic years. You are the light of my life. And you saved me. You have brought a smile to my face and a spring to my step. (Not bad for a old guy.) You are my soul mate, and I'm sorry it took so long for us to be together. (Better late than never.) You are my best friend and lover, and I can't wait to see what our future has in store for us.

Plus, you can throw out your running shoes now. I'm caught, hook, line, and sinker. I'm yours for as long as you will have me. (Pushing for 50 more years, or more. ) And yeah, I admit it to the whole world.

I'M WHUPPED AND LOVING IT !!!!
(Just wait until tonight. HUBBA HUBBA !! )

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY !!!

FEED YOUR FACE: Old Joe's Texas camp bread

Old Joe said that his Ma used to make this quite often. He said it dates back to the 1850's.
So let's get started. You need:
10 cups flour
3 teaspoons salt
4 teaspoons black pepper
1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon lard
4 1/2 cups water

Also, you need your dutch oven or cast iron skillet.

Sift and mix all the ingredients together. Use lukewarm water to make a fairly dry dough. Let the dough set for about 20 to 30 minutes. Roll out the dough until it is 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick. Cut the dough into rounds using your biscuit cutter, and cook on a hot, bacon-greased cast iron skillet or dutch oven.

Poke with a fork and turn them over when browned on the first side.

These hummers are great when out camping, hunting, or fishing. Plus, you could break a few in half, put them in a bowl, add some strawberries or peaches or whatever kind of fruit you have on hand. And maybe a big spoon of ice cream.

Old Joe made these when my sister and I were at the ranch. Man, talk about good! We would set around a campfire and have them after supper. Somehow he would come up with some wild strawberries that he would put sugar on then let them set in a cooler on ice.

While we stuffed our faces, he would tell a few stories. Heck, even Uncle Fay would stuff his face, and smack his lips and lick the bowl like a little kid. Uncle Fay would even listen to some of the stories Old Joe would tell. Sometimes, with eyes as big -- if not bigger -- than mine or my sister's.

So give this a try. Make a batch, and get out the butter and homemade jelly. Smack your lips, and rub your tummy. I think that you will really like these. . .

So, FEED YOUR FACE!

MOTHER NATURE, READY FOR A NURSING HOME?

It's wild, windy, rainy, hot, floods, tornadoes, hail, and yes, even snow. What in the world gives here? Has Mother Nature lost it? Is she going bonkers or what? Do we need a new Mother Nature? After all these many years, is she going through the . . . what do women call it -- the change? She has been nutty this summer.

I heard on the news the other night that they had to put ice into a swimming pool in Nebraska because the water temperature was like 90 some degrees. And they added something like 400 pounds of ice or more! So how many people couldn't make ice cream that day?

And then, all this rain. It falls where we really don't need it. Course that's good for our water bill. But what about those who could use the rain! Not a drop. And record temps in places such as North and South Dakota and parts of Kansas.

And all those tornadoes! Maybe it is time that we bring back the civil defense and those funny little hats that they used to wear. Maybe we should make it so that every house sold now in the U.S. has to have one of them storm cellars/bomb shelters. Having a regular basement does not get it.

I remember storm cellars from when I was just a wee little tyke living in Arkansas. And I can also remember bad enough weather that we had to set in the storm cellar and ride out a storm and tornado. I remember that grandma had home canned goods in that cellar. And if I close my eyes, I swear that I can even smell that cellar!

Now, as for the bomb shelters. . . well, I can remember a few of those as well. Me and this kid that I knew, I can't remember his name now, (maybe I'm ready for the home) -- his dad had put in and buried in their backyard a bomb shelter. They had taken and dug up the old storm cellar, and in its place put in this bomb shelter.

As a side note, when you decide to have a bomb shelter you are supposed to do it on the sly. It is supposed to be just for you and your family because if the whole neihborhood knows that you have one, they all come knocking at your door if the commies decide to drop the big one on us.

Anyway, this bomb shelter was really cool. It had a fan that kept it nice and cool, and lights, and beds to sleep on, and food and water. And it had a BATHROOM. Never saw one of those in a storm shelter, just a five gallon bucket with a seat on it. This bomb shelter even had a shower. The kind that you have seen in travel trailers. You know, where you could set on the throne and shower at the same time? Well, we must have played for days in that bomb shelter, until his dad came home early one day.

Boy, did the stuff hit the fan! We were chased out by his Dad, and I guess I ran faster, 'cause that kid was caught by his dad and was getting a licking. I ran so fast towards home that I almost ran BY it! I was out breath and thought that my lungs were never ever going to be able to take a normal breath again.

I never saw that kid again. And when we drove by every now and then, I would kind of duck down in the seat when his dad was in the front yard. Never knew what happened to that kid!

Anyway. Maybe we should get a new Mother Nature. A mother we could sort of train. A more gentle sweet forgiving type who wouldn't be so hard on our earth.

Then again, maybe it isn't Mother Nature to blame. Maybe it is old Mother Earth. And she isn't happy with how we have been treating her. Or maybe both of them have decided to gang up on all of us.

Maybe we all should say a few more prayers now and again. And ask what the heck is going on with the weather. Get the president on the line! No, wait -- I think that my new and improved bomb storm thing-a-majig just got here. It's that, or my ride to the home is here.

So, whats up with this weather we have been having? It is heck on the knees.

Quote of the Week: 7/18/2011

"Happiness often sneaks through a door you didn't know you left open."

--John Barrymore, American actor

OLD KNEES

I'm on my way back to blog. I wish I had newer knees, or at least knees that didn't have so many problems. 'Course, if you're going to have new knees, I think that you should be able to get new legs to go with.

Just think, you could be taller or shorter. Or pick out some legs that make you look good wearing shorts or, for that matter, if I had those good looking legs and everyone was looking at them. Then the Isle of Belly would not be noticed all that much. (Yep, still got it.) You could have legs for dancing or running or have some macho legs with all kinds of hair on them. Or, legs that are hairless and look like you wear nylons all the time.

Plus, you could have them new knees with dimples or with out dimples. Or knobby, like we all had at one time in our youth. I can remember when I could kneel down on my knees for about 30 minutes at a time. Now, if I see anyone on their knees, I cringe and grit my teeth. And to watch kids drop to their knees, I have to stuff a rag or pillow in my mouth to keep from screaming. I even get a little queasy to the Isle of Belly.

Yep, I'm stuck with these old knees. But then I think of all the miles and running and jumping and bike riding and dancing and everything else that these knees have done and been through. They have been banged up, bruised, and abused. And they still carry me along. Maybe, not as fast as they used too. And they get tired faster. But they keep on carrying me along.

SOME OLD SAYINGS FROM DAYS GONE BY

Cowboys, can be pretty down to earth when it comes to having something to say to teach a lesson.

Don't judge people by their relatives.

Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear, or a fool from any direction.

Some of what they had to say still holds true for today.

(Yep, I'm on my way back.)

My first cookbook: FEED YOUR FACE

Jim is still not able to sit at the computer long enough to blog, so I thought I would share with you about my first cookbook: Better Homes and Gardens Junior Cookbook.

My parents gave this to me for my 9th birthday. I was just working on my Girl Scout Cooking Badge.

The previous summer I had been to Girl Scout day-camp, and they taught us an "easy and portable" recipe, which was basically canned Chef-Boyardee spaghetti with a can of corn added to it, then served in an ice cream cone. It really did look as if someone had already eaten it previously. Well, and tasted that way, too.

Any cookbook was going to be an improvement!

The Better Homes and Gardens Junior Cookbook featured some very basic recipes. My sister Karen was just a year younger than I was, and she was also interested in the book. We would look over all the recipes, see if we had the ingredients for them, then make things.

These were not recipes that would require much. The first section of the cookbook featured beverages, and included "recipes" for grape float, orange float, cocoa, chocolate shake, lime fizz, eggnog, and tutti-fruitti-ice SPARKLE, which was basically KoolAid made into ice cubes, with 7-Up poured over them. I loved the pretty colors, but I was especially enamored of the glasses with the lemon-wedge art on them and the to-DIE-for lemon swizzle sticks.
To this day, I love citrus-y things, and have a set of nice, large glass tumblers with glass lemon wedges on them. No swizzle sticks yet, though.

There were recipes for such exciting items as cinnamon toast and biscuits (made from biscuit mix, not from scratch).

I really liked the picture of the egg-salad sandwich boats (egg salad on a hot dog bun), until I got sick at school one day after having egg salad. I couldn't even look at it again until I was about 30.

There were recipes for cookies, candies (think fudge), baked apples, and applesauce with red hots.

Main dish items included "frankfurters," cheeseburgers, oven-fried chicken, and mock drumsticks. My sister and I became obsessed with getting the cheese to melt just like the picture of the cheeseburgers in the book. (She's a vegetarian now, so I'm sure she never even thinks of that these days.) We also made the mock drumsticks, which were pretty much meatloaf on a stick.

There was a recipe for saucy spaghetti that was made by taking a can of spaghetti and adding a can of Vienna sausage. Ugh. Maybe my Girl Scout camp leaders were cookbook contributors.

The macaroni-and-cheese recipe was for making it from the box. That's a recipe? Really?

The salads were very basic. Like, take two pineapple rings, plop it on lettuce, stick a cherry and walnut halves on it and call it a salad. The "Peter Rabbit" salad was a canned pear half on a bed of lettuce, decorated with marshmallows, cherries, and cloves to make it look like a rabbit, though it really looked more like a mouse. Eeuuww.

Still, we used the heck out of that cookbook and the cover and every page is stained with something we spilled.

I am a better cook than that, now. But it's still fun to look at the book, especially the pictures.

Do you remember your first cookbook? Do you still make things from it? Or at least look at it?

Quote of the Week: 7/11/2011

No matter how good you are, you're going to lose one-third of your games. No matter how bad you are you're going to win one-third of your games. It's the other third that makes the difference.
--Tommy Lasorda

My Grandma's Bowl

Kathi here again, until Jim gets to where he can sit a little longer.

Do you read the Bye-Bye-Pie blog? It's really good. Be sure to read the comments, too, 'cause sometimes they are the best part!

Today the posting was about the author's grandma. It made me cry just a little -- enough that I had to wipe a couple drips of mascara from under my eye. Next time, I will buy waterproof.

I spent a lot of time with my mom's mom, 'cause she watched my sister Karen and I when my mom worked at the library when we were really little. Then, we saw her every Saturday when my mom would take her grocery shopping, and on Sunday's when we would pick her up for church. She always looked pretty and smelled good, and we made it a ritual to tell her that each time she got in the car. It was said in the most dramatic fashion possible, with a little sniffing sound for effect: "Grandma, you look pretty and ((SNIFF SNIFF)) smell good!"

In the summer, my grandma grew rhubarb, pickles, and strawberries. I'm sure she probably grew other things, too, 'cause she was from a farm. But, what those things were? I don't remember! I think I remember the rhubarb, pickles, and strawberries because those were my favorite things that she grew, don't you think?

Before lunch each day, she would let us pick berries to have with our lunch. Of course, we ate just about as many before we got into the house as by the time we got them in. They were so red, ripe, sweet, and juicy, and tasted sooooo good.

She had a pretty little bowl that she mainly used for fruit or fruit salad. I liked it because it was emerald green, my favorite color. It's also a nice size -- not too small, not too big. The berries piled in that bowl were so pretty and tempting. Yum.

Late in her life, she moved from her house with the wonderful gardens into senior apartments. Of course, she had to pare things way down in order to fit them into her new, smaller place.

I got custody of the beautiful green bowl. I GOT CUSTODY OF THE BEAUTIFUL GREEN BOWL!!!

I didn't use it. I put it on a shelf to look at because I didn't want it to break from use.

Well, one of my dogs knocked into the shelf somehow one day while I was gone, and I came home to find the beautiful green bowl shattered on the floor. I was so sad.

The bowl was more than just a bowl to me:
It was a symbol of the times my grandma fed us lunch and cared for us.
It was a reminder of the time spent picking berries together.
It was something she held in her hands so many times, then she passed it on to me.

Once, at a garage sale, I found glasses that matched the bowl. Though they weren't the bowl, they were a visual reminder, so I bought them, and they remain in my cupboard to this day.

But! Last year, I found the same bowl online. It was less than $10, and I wanted it because it was like THE bowl.

I was torn about buying it. Sure, it was just $10, but I wasn't sure I deserved the bowl. What if I broke that one, too? I consulted with my sister Kristi, with whom I consult about all the important things on my brain. She convinced me to get the bowl, but to USE it, not just set it on a shelf.

She was right, of course, so I bought the bowl. I have used it several times since, and when it is not being used or going to someone's potluck, it sits on the display shelf in my living room, behind glass so it doesn't have a mishap when I'm not around.

I learned a few important lessons from the loss and re-finding of the bowl.

1. Use the special things that have meaning to you, and don't save them for "good." They are never going to mean as much to someone else anyway, I'll bet.

2. Those special things aren't really that special: the memories they invoke are.

3. A sister with whom you can consult of things is a very good thing to have. I love and appreciate mine.

4. Grandmas stay in your heart long after they have left you to be with God.

I hope that you all have or had really good grandmas and really good sisters and some awesome memories.

And a nice bowl for berries isn't a bad thing to have either.

FEED YOUR FACE: Guinness Ice Cream

Kathi here. I am NOT a fan of drinking Guinness. It's way too serious of a drink for me.

One of the girls at work chose an Irish Pub as her birthday celebration place and ordered Guinness ice cream for dessert. She shared with the rest of us, and I liked it right away. Really!

So, I looked online for a recipe so I could make it at home. I found several, including one that used 15 egg yolks, but the one I based my trial batch on was from Emeril on The Food Network. This links to his recipe.

Here's how I made it.

• 12 oz. Guinness Stout
• 2 cups heavy cream
• 2 cups half-and-half
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 tablespoon of vanilla
• 6 egg yolks

In a saucepan, simmer the Guinness until it reduced by 3/4. This means you need to cook it down to about 3 oz. Emeril's recipe says it takes about 8 minutes. It took me about 15 minutes. Pour it into a measuring cup and set it aside. The measuring cup is so you know how much is there. I guess you could use a little more than 3 oz. if you want to!

In a saucepan, combine the cream, half-and-half, sugar, and vanilla. Bring it to a gentle boil over medium heat, then remove from the heat.

In a bowl, beat the 6 egg yolks. I saved the egg whites in two little glass bowls with lids, 3 in each, and I'll either use them when I make a quiche or maybe I'll make a big poofy cake. Angel food, maybe. Doesn't that use a lot of egg whites?

Slowly whisk in 1 cup of the hot cream mixture. Jim helped me do this 'cause I'm not exactly coordinated enough to do that. At least not without burning myself or making scrambled eggs in cream anyway. He whisked, I poured.

Then whisk that mixture into the rest of the cream. Jim whisked, I poured. Then cook the mixture some more until it reaches 170 degrees. I used a candy thermometer to see when that happened.

Emeril says to strain the mixture through a fine mesh strainer, then it calls for chilling for two hours. Instead, I poured it into a pitcher and chilled it overnight. THEN I strained it using one of my jelly bags. I'm glad I strained it, 'cause there were a few little chunks.

SO. . . pour it into a clean container (I used a pitcher 'cause it made it easier to pour later) and cover the surface with a piece of plastic wrap touching it. That's so it doesn't form a skin. Did you like pudding skin when you were a kid? I did, but Jim canNOT stand the thought of it. Anyway, this would make a pudding skin if you don't put the plastic wrap on it.

I chilled it about 24 hours, 'cause I just didn't have time to make it all at once. Then, I strained it through a jelly bag to get the little chunks out.

In Emeril's recipe it says to add the Guinness reduction after chilling. I mixed it with the cream mixture before chilling. I just didn't want the Guinness sitting around waiting for me to spill it. That's pretty much the only reason.

All you need to do after that is to process it in your home ice-cream maker! Jim helped me do that part, mainly 'cause he just likes to. It took about 30 minutes in our big ol' ice cream maker, maybe a little longer.

Then you could put the ice cream in a plastic container to "cure." Jim gave me the paddle to lick. Nugget was jealous, but I did share a little and he licked it right up! I should have taken a picture of that, shouldn't I have?

Oh! And another idea. Because I don't like Guinness to drink (and Jim does, but it would take him awhile to drink much of it), we bought a bottle of it that was 24 ounces. It was way cheaper than buying a 6-pack. Plus, we now have 12 ounces left, which is just the right amount to make a nice beer bread with.

So, get your ice cream maker ready, make some Guinness ice cream, and FEED YOUR FACE!

Quote of the Week: 7/4/2011

"Children should be educated and instructed in the principles of freedom."

John Adams
2nd U.S. President

Jim Update: 7/1/2011

Jim does not have to have surgery on his knee.

He still can't sit in a chair without his leg up very long, but he starts physical therapy today, so I'm sure he'll be back here with you next week. Don't give up on him!

He wishes you all a great 4th of July weekend, aka Independence Day. He especially likes the "independence" in the day, and why we are free. Thank a soldier!

Have a great weekend! Jim will meet you here next week.

MY CREED by Dean Alfange

"I do not choose to be a common man. It is my right to be uncommon. I seek opportunity to develop whatever talents God gave me - not security. I do not wish to be a kept citizen, humbled and dulled by having the state look after me.

I want to take the calculated risk; to dream and to build, to fail and to succeed. I refuse to barter incentive for a dole. I prefer the challenges of life to the guaranteed existence; the thrill of fulfillment to the stale calm of utopia. I will not trade freedom for beneficence nor my dignity for a handout.

I will never cower before any earthly master, nor bend to any threat. It is my heritage to stand erect, proud and unafraid; to think and act myself, enjoy the benefit of my creations and to face the world boldly and say - 'This, with God's help, I have done.'

All this is what it means to be an American."

What more can be said? Or what more should be said and done?

Jim Update: 6/28/2011

Jim had the MRI for his knee last Friday. They said he would hear something in two days, so we're hoping for this afternoon.

He's feeling a little better, getting around part of the time without crutches, and having serious cabin fever.

He's able to sit a little longer, so I would not be surprised to see his bloggy self here sometime this week.

He made us an awesome dinner Sunday evening -- steak and veggie kabobs done on his smoker/grill, with a baked potato, and corn smoke/grilled in its husks. I hope he did not over-do standing/walking/sitting. He seemed really happy to be able to do!

I hope to report (or have Jim report) great news soon! Happy Tuesday!
Kathi

Quote of the Week: 6/27/2011

"The most effective way to do it is to do it."
--Amelia Earhart, American Aviation Pioneer

Come on over. . .

I didn't have time to post for Jim today, but you can come on over to my blog for something different, if ya wanna: http://www.howweregonnadoit.blogspot.com/

Thanks!
Kathi

Getting Ready to Cookout: Homemade Worcestershire Sauce (for making BBQ sauce this weekend)

Jim is still not able to sit long enough to blog efficiently, so here I am again.

Let's get ready to make some BBQ sauce later this week (for me, this weekend). It's gonna be a good one, and features my favorite fuzzy fruit. From Palisade. Hint, hint.

One ingredient you can make at home that tastes way better than store-bought is Worcestershire sauce. It's quick and easy, and even if you don't can, you can store it in your refrigerator for up to 3 months! That'll get you through summer, right?

You'll need:
3/4 cup soy sauce
1 to 2 tablespoons of packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons of molasses
a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar
a whole jalapeno, slit open
1/2 a nutmeg
6 cloves
a chunk of lemon peel, not too big
a chunk of fresh ginger, peeled and grated

Combine all the ingredients in a saucepan. Heat and then simmer 10 minutes. Remove from the heat, cover, and let rest until cooled, then move the covered saucepan to the refrigerator and let it sit for 24 hours.

Prepare a sterilized jar. (I usually do a load of dishes in the dishwasher and use the heated dry setting.) Boil some water in a small saucepan and prepare a canning jar lid by turning the burner off once the boiling starts, and toss in the two-piece lid and let it sit until you are ready.

Strain the sauce to get out the chunks. I usually use cheesecloth to do that. Then re-heat the sauce and transfer it to the sterilized jar. Put the lid on. Let cool to room temperature, then put it in the refrigerator and store it tightly covered. It will keep about 3 months.

Get it ready now, 'cause we're making BBQ sauce this weekend!

Kathi

Voyeur

I LOVE cooking and food magazines.

I have subscriptions to several, including Bon Appetit, Food Network, and Taste of Home.

I love the colorful pictures.

I love reading the recipes that make my mouth water.

I love the thought of being in my kitchen making something artful and tasty.

I love that as I read the recipes, I'm already thinking of what I might do differently to make them more my own.

Then I remember about the clean up.

Then I remember to recycle by passing my magazines on to someone else.

Kathi

Quote of the Week: 6/20/2011 (and a Jim update)

"Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name."
~William Wordsworth


I hope you all had a good Father's Day. Jim still has his dad. Mine has been gone 10 years. Sometimes it seems like forever, sometimes it seems like yesterday. I miss him everyday, though. He was a great one.

Jim's knee is still pesky. He had a doctor's appointment last Friday. Though he is doing some better, and can even walk without crutches for short distances, he's still not doing great. He is still having pain and discomfort and can't sit just anywhere or for just any amount of time.

His doctor wants him to have an MRI, because she is suspicious that he has a torn meniscus or ACL, so she wants to take a look to be sure of what could be going on.

So. . . I will still be blogging while he is "out." Lucky you, huh? :>

Have a great week! I'll see you tomorrow.

And speaking of frosty frozen treats that get me in trouble when I'm with my sister

ALSO with my sister (Kristi): We went to a meeting and decided to stop at Wendy's on the way home for a little Frosty.

Frostys are so cheap and quick and tasty!

Kristi was driving again, and we pulled up into the drive-thru to order, and waited. And waited. And waited.

We were just starting to think that they were closed OR to get indignant, when we saw that we had not pulled up to the drive-in speaker, but to the newspaper box! We were waiting for our order to be taken by the newspaper box! Ugh.

We laughed so hard that I had to raise myself up off the seat to make sure I did not piddle in her husband's car!

We were still laughing when we reached the ordering speaker. So much so, that it was hard to talk. (I can't breathe! I can't breathe!) Kristi finally managed to spit our order out in between laughs.

When we arrived at the pick-up window, there were three or four people waiting to see who we were and what was going on.

Now I'd probably be embarassed enough that I would have skipped the Frosty and driven right on through.

Well, truthfully, I probably just would drive to a different Wendy's.

A little blizzard was all I wanted

Jim can still not sit at the computer for more than a few moments at a time because of his knee. Something he said last night reminded me of a story about my sister and me and our adventures at drive-thru windows when we were in our 20's and 30's.

My sister and I used to live in the same apartment complex, so we would go do laundry together or go to Taco Bell or DQ for a treat pretty often. We also used to go to our parents house and visit with whomever might be there at the time. (There are 7 kids in our family, so you could pretty much always run into someone there, and my Dad was usually available for visiting in the evenings anyway.)

One summer evening I was really in the mood for a Blizzard from DQ, so we met at her little truck in the parking lot and we went to the DQ in our neighborhood, with plans to go see our Dad after.

We can talk. I mean, we can really keep on going, and it doesn't even have to be about anything. Those of you who have a really good sister know what I mean.

When we got to the DQ, the drive thru line snaked around the building and the end of it was right at the street where cars would enter the parking lot. That was okay -- we were used to that at our DQ. The inside was always packed in the evenings, too, so there was no way we were going in. And we always had talking to keep us occupied, so that's what we did.

We talked and waited, talked and waiting, inching up as we could.

Finally we realized we were one car away from the pick-up window. But we hadn't ordered! No one had asked for our order when we were at the speaker, but we didn't even notice with all the talking we were doing.

It had taken us about 1/2 hour to get to that point. There was no way we were going to wait another half hour.

Our little Blizzard-deprived pea brains engaged, and we decided to just pay for whatever was given to us at the window and we would just take whatever it was and go.

Straight-faced, we pulled up to the window and were given a total. We handed over the money, took the order, and left.

When we got to our parents house and could see what we had, we were very disappointed. The people in the car behind us had NO taste buds or imagination, it seemed. They had ordered a cup of ice water, some plain vanilla ice cream, and a Dilly Bar.

It was not exactly what we had in mind.

Dear persons in line for DQ: Please think of others when ordering. Be sure to get something good. Your taste buds -- or mine -- will thank you.

FEED YOUR FACE: A Quick Quiche Lorraine

I love quiche, but especially Quiche Lorraine. What's not to like about bacon, onion, and cheese with a crust?

This one is quick to make, which I like mainly because then it is quick to eat!

The ingredients are:

• 6 slices of bacon, cut into 3/8" to 1/2" pieces
• 1 small sweet onion, diced
• 4 oz. Gruyere cheese, greated
• 6 eggs
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 prepared pie crust (either you can make it or Pillsbury can make it for you)
• salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg to taste

First, place the pie crust in the pie pan (or a small cast iron skillet) and let it rest the entire time you are preparing the recipe.

Place the bacon pieces in a skillet and cook them until they are done. You are the one who decides what "done" is. Remove the pieces with a slotted spoon to a plate lined with paper towels to absorb the excess bacon grease. Let cool.

Toss the onion into the grease left in the skillet, and cook them until they are carmelized. They will be brown anyway because of the hot bacon grease. Snobby people think that's a bad thing. I'm not a snobby people, and I think the color is a good thing. Remove these with a slotted spoon to another plate lined with paper towels to absorb the excess bacon grease. Let cool.

Crack the eggs and place them in a bowl. Beat them by hand until they are smooth. Add the salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Then add the cooled bacon and onion, cream, and cheese, and mix to combine.

Pour the mixture into the prepared pie crust, and pop it into a 350 degree oven for about 50 minutes. Sometimes my oven and my pie plate decide that a whole hour is better, so just check it to see if it is as done as you like.

When you take it out of the oven, let it set for a few minutes (I would say about 10 -- long enough to cut some watermelon to serve with it).

Cut it into 6 wedges and serve.

If there are only two of you, that's okay. Just wrap each cooled leftover piece in clingy plastic wrap, and either freeze or refrigerate. Then you can have some later!

If you want a fancier quiche that will take much longer, this one really looks good: http://www.ouichefnetwork.com/oui_chef/2009/12/bouchons-quiche-lorraine.html
Someday I will make it and will let you know if the extra time and steps are worth it.

In the meantime, I'll just stick with the quick version.
Kathi

Quote of the Week: 6/13/2011

What is it that you like doing? If you don't like it, get out of it, because you'll be lousy at it. ~Lee Iacocca

Bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word

He's back! The little bird was back in his sleeping spot last night. He's giving me a second chance!

I was particularly careful to be quiet when I left the dog out, and I waited until this morning to water the garden.

I'm glad I didn't scare him off for good, but I will be more careful now. (Even though I am not a bird fan.)

Jim update: His x-ray couldn't be read because there was too much fluid surrounding the injury to his knee, so they can't see if he tore anything or not. So, he got medicine and a knee brace and crutches, with instructions to ice, stay off of it, and come back a week from Friday.

Usually his taking Vicodin leads to "unusual" conversations. But last night? Zonked right away.

He probably won't be blogging anytime soon, but I'll keep you up on his progress.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with the song Jim sang when I told him the bird was back.


http://youtu.be/2WNrx2jq184

Backyard Camper

Jim still can't sit comfortably at the computer to blog, so I'm back (Kathi). I thought I would tell you about the bird camping out in our backyard.

I noticed a bunch of bird poopies on the patio near my garden. Then I saw bird poopies on the inside of the patio just above that. I wondered who was doing that! I decided to evict him. I am not a fan of birds anyway.

Then, we came home after bowling one night and saw the bird was sleeping on a cable that runs the length of that wall, snuggled up against the wall. How could he sleep on that little cable without falling off? Why didn't he sleep in a tree or something?

We kept an eye out and discovered he arrives between 8 and 8:30 each evening, but is gone by the time I get up at 4:30 in the morning.

I decided I would just tack a piece of paper up there until he realized he couldn't sit there with the paper in the way.

Then I thought about how pitiful he looks perched there on the small cable, hugging the wall, and all alone. I felt bad for him. He obviously needed a safe place to sleep, where he didn't have to worry about being bothered or killed. And alone!

So, I decided he could stay. I wouldn't do anything to encourage his moving in, but I wasn't going to turn him away either.

I went out last night to take his picture while he was sleeping. I zoomed in from the patio door, but couldn't get a good shot. I moved in about five feet, but still couldn't get a good picture. So, I moved about half way up the patio to take one, and as soon as the flash went off, he woke up and fluttered off.

I didn't see him there when the dog went out before bed.

I didn't see him when the dog wanted out at 1 a.m.

I didn't see him when I watered the garden at 5:30 a.m.

I think he might be gone, 'cause his little nook is no longer really safe. I feel bad that I'm the one who made it that way.

Uh, oh. . . not good

Hi, Kathi here.

Jim hurt his knee at bowling last night. He was bowling his last frame of the evening, and made his approach, and just before the line he hit a dry spot and his foot came to an instant stop. Unfortunately, the rest of him kept going because of the momentum. His knee basically stayed put, and the upper part of his leg kept going.

It hurts, and he can get around with the support of a cane, but sitting to blog isn't working out for him right now.

I sure hope he feels better soon and heals quickly. I kinda wonder if he's out for the rest of the bowling season (but I sure hope not).

I have a feeling I might be back here again tomorrow. Until then. . .

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: 6/7/2011

"We must never be afraid to go far, for success lies just beyond."

Marcel Proust
French novelist

COFFEE

I'm setting here this morning in my new caffeine shorts trying to lose a pound or two. And I was reminded of a hunting trip with my day, years ago.

My Dad really likes his coffee. If he does not get that first cup in the morning, he is a real bear for most of the day. Well, one morning when we were up hunting, he was walking the floor in his trailer. He hadn't had his coffee yet because when he packed up the trailer, he forgot the innards for his coffee pot. And seeing as my brother-in-law Robert and I wanted some coffee also, I volunteered to make some good old cowboy coffee. So I filled the pot with water, lit the burner, placed the pot on the burner, and started to put coffee in the pot.

Well, Dad hollered and cussed a blue streak. He said there is no way in h### he was going to drink coffee with grounds floating in it. He said he would chew the grounds before he would drink any of it. I told him that all he needed to do was strain the grounds through his teeth, and I and Robert laughed.

Boy, oh boy, did Dad go off then! He said for me to not even try to make any of that cowboy sludge. He would think of something, and HE would make the coffee before we started to make breakfast. Well, what could we say? We went ahead and got our gear ready, and loaded up the truck. When we came back in, Dad was in a much better mood. He had that coffee pot just perking right along.

Robert and I never said a word. We set the table and sat down. Dad had also made breakfast. Man, did it look good. And we could smell the fresh coffee, bacon, hash browns, eggs, and toast with orange juice. A great meal for the mighty hunters.

Until it was time to chow down.

Dad poured us our coffee, we were just taking our first bites, and Dad was taking his first sip of coffee, and Dad gave us a funny look. He looked kind of crosseyed, and his face turning a kind of greenish gray. He then took another sip and asked us if the coffee tasted kind of funny. Well, I hadn't had any yet.

Dad took another sip and got greener around the eye balls. He spit out the coffee. He gave us a dirty look and demanded that we each take a sip. So Robert and I knew something was up. Robert and I looked at each other as we picked up our cups and gave each other a look that said you-go-first.

Well, that coffee DID have a funny taste to it. Kind of like soap. Robert and I spit out the coffee we had not swallowed back into our cups. At the same time we both asked what in the heck he used to make the coffee taste like this.

Well, he looked at us and said that he thought that if he put the grounds in a clean sock and put it in the coffee pot, that it would perk around in the pot and make coffee. And Dad then took another sip and said that it didn't quite taste like soap, but more like Downy fabric softener.

Well, duh -- Mom had cleaned his stuff and had used Downy as she always had. We threw out the coffee and ate our breakfast. Robert and I tried real hard not to look at each other, cause we knew that if we did we would lose it and laugh our heads off. We already knew we would pick on Dad the rest of our hunting trip.

Even our breakfast tasted like Downy. I went and used about half a bottle of mouthwash to get the taste out of my mouth. I don't know what Robert used. My Dad told us to just leave the mess, and we would clean up from breakfast when we got back to camp. So we loaded ourselves in the truck and away we went.

Robert dropped off Dad at the spot he wanted to hunt, and dropped me maybe about a half mile from my Dad. Robert when on down the road to where he wanted to hunt. I walked into the heavy timber. I found a nice place to park my butt, and wait for my chance to get my deer.

I sat there for a few hours, then I heard a shot. It came from the direction of where my Dad was. Then I heard another shot from the same direction. I started walking to where my Dad was, hoping that I might get a shot along the way. As I was walking through the trees, I heard a truck go by. Maybe it was Robert, and he had heard the shots also.

I never did see anything, and as I came upon my Dad I saw he had a nice fat doe on the ground, and had it almost field dressed. He looked at me, all smiles and such. So, I helped him finish field dressing his deer. As we were working I asked him how far of a shot was it. He turned a little red, and said it was maybe 40 feet or so. I gave him a look, wondering how the deer could have gotten so close. Well just as he was going to tell me, Robert showed up.

We dragged the deer out of the woods, and down to the road where Roberts truck was. We loaded up the deer and we headed back to camp. As we neared camp, Robert leaned a little forward and looked at me. Robert asked, do you smell something? And I told him I did, and it smelled a lot like Downy. We both leaned in towards the center of the seat where Dad sat and we both inhaled deeply. Robert said that Dad's clothes smelled of Downy. I took in another whiff, looked at Dad, and said it wasn't his clothes, it was his breath. At just that time we pulled into camp, and Robert and I jumped out of the truck before Dad could smack us or say a word.

Dad grouched at us a bit, and we helped him hang up his deer. As it was hung, Robert gave the deer a sniff, looked at Dad, and before Robert could open his mouth Dad told Robert that if he said a single word he would be sleeping in a wet sleeping bag outside.

But I couldn't let this pass.

I sniffed, and sniffed, and sniffed all around Dad's deer. Finally stopping in front of the deer's head I took another sniff, looked at my Dad, and asked, "What did you do? Did you try to kiss this deer? Cause we both can still smell the Downy on your breath."

Well, Robert and I ran around the camp for a bit while Dad tried to whack us with a big stick. He never did catch us.

For dinner that night we had fried taters, salad, steak, and cobbler in a dutch oven. And, oh yeah, we also had cowboy coffee. By the end of our hunting trip, Dad found out that cowboy coffee was not all that bad, as long as the sugar held out.

When we got home and Dad talked to Mom, he spilled the beans about himself. Robert and I never did tell her about how it seemed that his deer smelled of Downy. But Mom made a remark about how his deer seemed to be kind of spring time fresh, even when it was Fall.

The following year, Dad tried to make nylon-sock coffee. Robert and I never found out if Mom was missing a pair. And, yeah, it was NOT good.

NEW! WEIGHT LOSS TECH

I don't know if any of you saw this on Yahoo this morning. We now have a new way to lose weight. It is caffeine pants.

So now all you need is to pour your morning coffee into your shorts.

Now before you do this, I'm talking about just the ground up beans. If you pour your morning coffee in your shorts, first, you will burn certain things that should never be that hot! Second, you will have wet shorts. And third, you will stain your shorts brown. Unless, you already have brown shorts.

The way they say this works is that your butt, thighs, and whatever else absorbs the caffeine and it will melt the fat away. I think it does not melt the fat off, but rubs it raw. Like using sand paper. So if that is how it works, why not just have your shorts made of sand paper?
Or, just go to the beach or your hardware store and buy a bag or two of sand. Then fill 'em up.

I'm sorry, you tea drinkers will have to find another way to lose the unwanted pounds.

Though I also wonder if different brands of coffee work better than others. . .

Plus, can you use instant coffee for instant weight loss? For when you need to lose that weight for a party this Friday night.

And what about cream and sugar?

If you are wearing your coffee shorts, how do you dip your morning doughnut?

People need to know these things before starting any weight loss program.

I think we need a lot more research.

OUR MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND

We had a nice and tame Memorial weekend.

Saturday, we went with two of our friends and had lunch at Helga's German Deli and Restaurant. They have a patio that is dog friendly, and the deli is not all that big. The food is pretty good and the price is decent.

If I were to rate Helga's, I would give it 3 1/2 burps on a scale of 5 burps being the best and 1 burp being the worse. The reason I gave it a 3 1/2 was because I, being a southern boy, like my tater salad cold, not hot. 'Course that is how they do it German style. If I had been better prepared, I could give it a higher score. I just had my mind and taste buds ready for cold potato salad. It is a neat little place to go to feed your face if you are on the east side of town. It is out off of I-225 and a little east on Exposition.

Sunday, we had a party to go to for someone from Kathi's work. The food and munchies were really good and I got to meet some new people. And seeing as it was near Fort Logan, we made our trip to Fort Logan at that time. I think it is better to go a day early because the crowds are a lot thinner and you don't feel like you are being rushed. It was a lot easier to find a place to park, so we didn't have to walk miles to get to a loved one's resting place.

Fort Logan, as always, was beautiful, with all the little flags blowing gently in the breeze. We spent time at my grandfather's (Pappy) site. He is on a little hill facing south. Then we went to my nephew's (Grant) site and spent some time there. I wish I would have had a little bottle of Hennessey whiskey. We could have had a little drink together. I'll catch him next time I go there. Then we went to visit Kathi's dad, and we spent some time there also. He and my nephew are in the same area. 'Course, we cried some and remembered stories of them. It was a nice way to end a Sunday.

Monday, we slept in just a little, did some errands, and pretty much hung around the house. Later on we had bowling. Kathi's team did not do too well. And the team I am on? Well, we won three games. YAY! But not by a whole lot. We just squeaked by, kinda quiet-like. After bowling, we went to Denny's for a bite to eat. While there, I got a phone call from a friend of mine from high school (Joe). He was with me when I got busted years ago in my youth for riding a Big Wheel through Red Rocks Park. But that is a story for another time.

So our weekend was pretty much, nice and peaceful.

I hope that the rest of you all had a good weekend and didn't over do it on Bar B Q!

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: 5/30/2011

"Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's Party!'"

Robin Williams, American comedian and actor

MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND

I awoke this morning to the sound of birds singing. I watched the sun come up over Denver. And all seems right in my little corner of the world.


This Memorial Day weekend, please be safe. And remember what Memorial Day is all about as you go about your weekend.

Remember our veterans, past and present. And fly our flag with pride! For, if not for them,we would not enjoy what we have now.

God Bless, and have a great 3 day weekend.

OLD SPURS: Part I

When they were bought new, they shined, and they jingled as you walked down the street. Now, all these years later, they are worn and tarnished, with some rust here and there. And they don't jingle quite like they used to. The leather straps are dry and the heel chains that broke off years ago were replaced with baling wire while out on the range and was never replaced with new chain.

The young fella that bought the spurs was named Joe. I never knew his last name. He started out at a young age as a cowboy. His family was large: he had four sisters who were older than he, and two brothers, one older than Joe and one younger. Seven kids was quite a handful, and there were times that there was not enough food to go around. When Joe was about 14 or so, as he remembers, his dad passed away. His Dad was stomped by a horse that he was trying to bust. The horse managed to bust out of the corral and ran off into the Texas hills.

Then it was just his mom and seven kids. They all pitched in to help make ends meet. Money was tight. The boys did the chores then would look for work on ranches. The girls would help around the house while their mother looked for work away from the ranch. There was not a lot of jobs to be had, so their mom took to doing laundry and two of the girls took up sewing. That brought in some money, but not enough to put food on the table and to buy feed for the animals, or seed for planting.

Joe, at the age of 14, found work on a ranch the other side of town. Just about all of his pay went to his mom for the rest of the kids. He put some aside for himself for things that he needed. Joe said that the ranch he was working on was a cattle outfit. That is how he became a cowboy.

He learned how to rope cows, and the other fellas taught him how to tie a bed roll and how to take care of his gear. Plus, they showed him how to roll a smoke. Joe always seemed to have a rolled cigarette in his mouth. He was working, had three meals a day, and a cot to sleep on. They also gave him a old saddle, bridle, and other tack.

Then they gave him his first horse. Joe laughed, as the horse they gave him was a wild mustang from the Texas hills. He was told that if he could break him, he could have him. Joe said that it took him over a month to break that woolly booger, what with all the other work he had to do on the ranch.

Joe worked on that ranch for over five years. In all those years, he kept on sending his mom money and he would go back and see his family whenever he could. In those five years, two of his older sisters had gotten hitched, as he liked to say, and had moved out of state. He also lost his younger brother, who had been shot and robbed while heading to town to pay a bill at the general store. They never did find the fella that shot him. And Joe still wondered about it.

At 19, Joe left the ranch he had been working on. He took his horse and what little bit of money he had saved and headed north. He worked several ranches in Montana then moved toward the Dakotas. He worked ranches there. And as he put it, he just "cowboyed around."

Texas, to Canada, and also spent time in California. Worked on a movie or two as a wrangler. But he said that he can't remember the name of the pictures. He says that he got to know a few stars back then, like Tex Ritter and some others that I can't remember.

He finally ended up here in Colorado on the ranch that my uncle ran in Kremmling, up by Steamboat. He was hired by my uncle's dad. He was really more the boss of the ranch than my uncle was.

The ranch is where I saw him for the first time. I was young and wanted to be a cowboy. I took to him like flies to molasses. He looked so much the cowboy. From his old black Stetson, right down to the old looking spurs on his worn-out boots. He had a wrinkled face that had never been out of the sun very long, and gnarled hands scarred from barbed wire and all kinds of weather. He looked as old as the hills and didn't stand very straight. And he had the bluest eyes that seemed to know everything and more.

He didn't take to me and my sister right off. He would see us coming up the road to the ranch, and would stand off to one side, as we would jump out of the car to start our vacation. He would see us every day playing around the ranch, running here and there.

Then, one day, I was bound and determined to saddle a horse on my own so I could go riding. Well, he caught me in the horse barn. I had a horse in a stall tied to a railing. I must have been about five or six. I had managed to get a saddle blanket on the horse and was trying and trying to lift a saddle and climb up high enough on the railings to get the saddle on the horse. 'Course, the horse kept moving, then I would drop the saddle, say a few choice words I had learned from some of the guys on the ranch, and pick up the saddle to try again.

Well, I think he heard me first. Then he saw me. He just stood there and watched. I must have tried 40 times to get that saddle on that horse! I heard him clear his throat and give me that blue-eyed look. He rolled a smoke and asked if I needed a hand. He put the saddle on the horse and showed me how to cinch it up. Then how to bridle the horse.

He then took the horse out of the barn,and held it for me. I told him that I needed the horse by the wood fence so I could get on. He just looked at me, smiled, and said a real cowboy does not use a wood fence to get on a horse. And a real cowboy does not use them words I heard in the barn. So he showed me how to sorta climb up into the saddle. He said, "Now if you get off your horse in a field or out on the prairie where there are no fences you can still get back in the saddle. And them words you were saying? You only use them when your with your pards out on the range. They shouldn't be used on the ranch, 'cept maybe when you smash a finger or a horse steps on you."

Joe was good that way. He taught me a lot of things that still hold true to this day. I still use some of the outdoor things he taught me. 'Course, I don't have a horse drawn wagon. But, when you make camp for the night and have unhitched the team, you point the tongue of the wagon in the direction you are traveling for the next day. Or, never drink or get your water downstream from your cows or horse.

Joe was a really great guy. The spurs he had all those years of cowboying, he gave to my cousin Steve. My cousin Steve gave them to me.

Just think of all the places, how many horses and cows and cow camps, storms, sunsets, and how many pairs of boots have seen those spurs. I myself have worn them on the ranch on many a horse. And, how about all the places that old Joe had been to? And all that he has done in his lifetime!

Joe seemed like an old man when I first saw him all those years ago. And he out lived all of his family. I remember when he decided that it was time to call it quits. He had decided that he wanted to go back home to Texas 'cause his cowboy days were about over.

I remember him packing what little bit of belongings he had, from the little bunk house that he had called home for so many years. And we took him into town to catch the train. And me, not to be a teenager for a few years yet, still playing at being a cowboy. I was wearing an old black cowboy hat, dusty jeans, with worn out boots caked with cow patties, and a pair of spurs that had been worn by a real cowboy.

As he was saying goodbye to everyone, I started to cry. He looked at me, his blue eyes just as bright as the first time I ever saw him, and he kneeled down in front of me. He gave me a huge hug, leaned back, rolled a smoke, lit it, and his eyes got a little misty. He looked at me and said, "Cowboys never really die, we just find that big ranch up yonder, and keep on riding the range." And with that, he got up, stepped onto the train, waved, and was gone.

Joe passed I don't know how many years ago. I'm in my 50's now. He went home to Texas and found some relatives down El Paso way. From what I was told, he was out with a relative, and they were on horseback checking on some cows. They stopped at a hilltop, under some trees. They ate some lunch, and his relative said that he had to make a call to mother nature. So Joe just sat there, holding the reins to the horses. When his relative came back, Joe was gone. He had a bit of a smile on his face and the reins in his hand.

It was the first time he didn't have spurs on his boots.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: 5/24/2011

"When you come to a fork in the road, take it."

Yogi Berra
National Baseball Hall of Fame member

FEED YOUR FACE: Corn Tortillas

Jim is still on his break, so here I am (Kathi) posting a recipe.

My friend Ruby said she does not know how to make tortillas, and I can't believe that 'cause of how incredibly easy it is.

Speaking of "incredible," the day of the 9/11 attacks, I was at Jamba Juice in the morning and had just heard about it on the radio. When a random other customer person at Jamba asked me if I had heard about it, I said I had and that I thought it was incredible and horribly sad.

She went off on me for using the word incredible. She was yelling at me, "Incredible?!!! Are you f-ing kidding me? Incredible?" I had no idea what the heck she was all pissy about. Incredible's first definition from Merriam-Webster's site is "too extraordinary and improbable to be believed." Also, unconceivable, unthinkable, etc. I did NOT mean it as she took it, as in "wow, way cool." Dumb B! Okay, can you tell it hurt my feelings that she thought I meant it was good? Geez. . .

Okay, back to incredibly easy tortillas. Or, should I say, "unbelievably" easy tortillas.

First, buy a bag of masa. It's in the grocery store. It's a staple. You can use it for other things than tortillas, such as thickening up chili. Yum.

Here's a picture of the bag of masa I bought. The instructions for making tortillas are right on the bag. So, just put the masa and water into a bowl: 2 cups of masa, 1/4 t. salt, and 1-1/4 cups of water. Mix it up about 2 minutes until it becomes a soft dough. When I made this batch, I didn't need many tortillas, so I made half a batch. Just 1 cup of masa, 1/8 t. salt, and about 2/3 cup of water.

Then, divide the dough into little balls. Because I made a half batch, I just made 8 balls instead of the usual 16. Then cover them with a damp cloth to keep them from drying out.

The instructions say to line a tortilla press with two pieces of plastic wrap stuff, but I find it easier to just use a big plastic bag (the gallon size) and shove the dough in that to press.
Some people even use a rolling pin (old school!).

Then, just center the dough-ball in the middle of the tortilla press and smoosh it closed.

Open it back up, and you have a tortilla!

As you finish pressing and stacking them, be sure to keep that damp cloth over them still to keep them from drying out.
Once you have a little stack of tortillas, heat a skillet or griddle to medium high-ish, and flip them on for a little bit on each side -- maybe 45 seconds to a minute. This kind of finishes them up and gets them sturdier to use.
Then you can make enchiladas or tortilla chips or tostadas -- whatever you want to make. Yum.

So, as Jim might say, get some masa, smoosh it up and get ready to FEED YOUR FACE!

FEED YOUR FACE: Pineapple Upside Down Cake

Hi, Jim's wife (Kathi) here. Jim asked me to post my recipe for pineapple upside down cake. He really, really likes it, so I think he may want to know how to make it for himself in case he gets hungry for it and I'm not around to make it for him. Though pineapple upside down cake usually seems to taste better when someone makes it for you than when you make it yourself.

The ingredients you will need are:

• a box of white or yellow cake mix (plus 1/4 cup flour, if you are at altitude)


• 1/3 cup cooking oil


• 1-1/4 cups liquid (I use the juice from the pineapple rings and the juice from the cherries -- using the cherry juice can make the cake part look fluorescent pink if you use enough, which is how I really like it!)


• 3 eggs


• can of pineapple rings (my can has 10 rings)


• jar of maraschino cherries


• stick of butter


• brown sugar

First, get a skillet that can go into the oven at 350 degrees. The one I use is a 12" non-stick skillet. Jim would use a cast iron skillet if he were doing this.

Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees.

Melt the butter in the skillet; then add as much brown sugar as you want. Some people like a little thin layer, I like a big thick layer. Sprinkle it over the butter.

Then lay the pineapple rings out however you want to. Add maraschino cherries, at least in the pineapple ring holes. We like more cherries, so we put them in each pineapple ring hole AND wherever else we can fit them. Yum.

Then mix up the cake batter using the dry cake mix, the eggs, oil, and liquid. I use my KitchenAid fluorescent pink stand mixer, but you can do it by hand or however you like to mix such things.

Pour the cake batter over the butter-sugar-pineapple ring-cherry stuff in the skillet. Bake at 350 degrees for about 35 minutes, more or less. Test it like you would a regular cake to check for doneness.

Let is sit on your cooling rack or stovetop or whatever you usually stick your pans on to cool for 10 minutes. Then get a big platter (a little larger in diameter than your skillet), place the platter face down on the skillet, then flip it over so the cake falls out on the platter.

Don't get overly excited and flip it too early because the pineapple rings might fall off or it might all get stuck in the skillet because you didn't let it cool enough to let the sugars set. Just ask me how I know!

Some people like to eat their pineapple upside down cake warm. I like mine really cold, like from the refrigerator. Some people like theirs garnished with whipped cream. Some like ice cream. Some like naked, like I do. Not eating it naked, just leaving the CAKE naked. (Though I guess eating it naked is fine, too, if you are like that.)

So, I guess Jim would say, "Get our your forks, tie on your bib, and get ready for cake 'cause you're going to FEED YOUR FACE!"