Don't Try This Away From Home

 Rather than the disclaimer so often heard when watching something on a tv show or commercial: "Don't try this at home!", at risk of TMI I'm going to share something I learned while on that hiking trip to Sedona with the grandkids last month.

Being a lady of a certain age, who has borne four children and has the resultant bladder tendencies to show for it (or, rather, hope they don't show enough for other people to see!) I've noticed some things as the years go on.

1.  Being sick with a racking cough can be embarrassing if it's been more than about 10 minutes since I used the bathroom.

2. Likewise a sudden hard sneeze.  Both of which instances can create extra laundry.

3. Ditto trying to ride a horse with a jolting trot. (Several years ago I instituted a 'pee before mounting' rule, LOL, but sometimes the trot is just too rough for even that to work.)

4. Grandmas don't jump.  Even if our knees are game, our bladders aren't.

5. Likewise large steps up or down while hiking/rock scrambling can create extra laundry. 

Too much TMI?  Ok, you probably want to stop reading now.  Proceed at your own risk; don't say I didn't warn you.

Still curious?  Read on, especially if you are also a woman of a certain age who has borne many babies.  Consider this a Public Service Announcement.

Period Underwear.  You know, the stuff that is supposed to alleviate your fears of unexpected period abundance and is even lately touted as being useful for leaky mom/grandma bladders?  Due to observation #3, above, in the last couple of years I have invested in some of the miracle undies even though at the advanced age of over 50 I'm hoping every period is the last one (please. . . can I be done yet?!?)   

And, while they do help with the jolting trot situation (or, sudden spooks on a young horse IYKYK), I can't say they work well for numbers 4 & 5.  Those two items being the reason I packed them for our Sedona trip.

In retrospect, it was a great idea, but with testing it failed miserably.  Did I end up with wet shorts/leggings during our hiking excursions?  Nope.  In that respect, they did a great job of absorbing whatever little liquid bits came their way.  (Told you this post really pushes the limit of what's considered TMI.)  Nobody on the trails could tell I'm a lady of a certain age who has borne many children just by walking behind me.

However, how other hikers didn't wonder why, late in the hike, I walked like a toddler with a giant wet diaper, I don't know.  Because that's what I felt like after hiking, and sweating, for miles.  Like I should be making a squishing sound with every step.

Those period undies are super absorbent, and very discreet.  However, they sucked up every single drop of SWEAT that was in their vicinity.  And hiking is a sweaty undertaking, more so when you're on the difficult trails with rock climbing or having to take large steps onto/hop off of small boulders.

Based on this highly unscientific trial, I'd give them five stars for absorbency. 

Five stars for wearing while riding young/spooky horses and/or rough trots.  

But for wearing while hiking??  Zero stars. They would be okay if there was somewhere to strip out of them immediately and replace with a pair that didn't hold five pounds of sweat at the end of the hike. Definitely don't try this away from home.

Where The Fork?!? A Mystery

My Easter decor on Friday

 On Saturday, we hosted family Easter.  Saturday just worked better all around for everyone because 1) most of their in-laws were all ready planning a get together on Sunday, 2) Saturday the whole day was open rather than just the after-church part of the day (and church service times varied from household to household), and 3) there was no way, between church and barn cleaning chores, I was going to be able to cook a meal and have guests over to eat and egg hunt between the time I finished cleaning stalls and when it was time to bring horses in for the evening feed.  In addition to DH and my descendants, we also had my parents and my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew (my brother's family we'd been unable to get together with since 2022).

So Saturday it was.  And it was a beautiful day!  No rain, just a little wind, and temperatures that got close to 60 degrees.  The sun kinda shone, the grass was green (and not yet so tall and thick that DH would have needed to cut it), the daffodils were in full bloom, everyone arrived on time, the kids (all ten of them) were well behaved.  

We egg hunted.

We ate really good food; so good that nobody even bothered to take a picture of the spread, because we were all so eager to dig in.  Highlights included a cheese 'ball' shaped like a carrot with shredded cheddar cheese on the outside of it and a chunk broccoli on the end for the carrot greenery, a mixed green salad with about 20 different add-in options, corn casserole, ham and more ham (with 23 people I had made over 20 pounds of ham), banana cream pie, finger Jello (that actually went faster than the pie!), two dozen deviled eggs. . .

It was a really (loud and somewhat chaotic but overall) good day.  Tiring, but good.  I have to confess that by the time everyone left, and I looked at all the dirty dishes piled up from the event (my dishwasher sorta died a few weeks ago), I said "I'll deal with that tomorrow."  Because on Sunday, other than church and barn chores, there was nothing on my docket. No company to host, nobody else's house to travel to, just a quiet afternoon.

My Easter decor on Sunday morning.

So, it wasn't until later in the day on Sunday that I tackled the final clean up from our Saturday gala.  With DH's help (him drying and putting away), we got the dishes done.  And since DH had done the putting away, for the most part, I didn't notice until Sunday evening that we had a mystery on our hands.

We had used 'real' plates and silverware as opposed to paper plates and plastic silverware.  To do so, despite the current status of our dishwasher, had been a conscious decision on DH and my parts.  We just hate the concept of buying stuff to throw it away after use, and all the extra trash that creates (that goes in a landfill to sit and sit and sit).  And so we had gotten, in the past year, an extra set of silverware and purchased 20 plastic divided trays (plates).

New plates for group meals.

We had already been the owners of 7 similar plastic plates (dubbed the 'potluck plates' by my kids when they were little as we always used those when going to potlucks where participants were requested to bring their own tableware in addition to a dish to pass) for decades.  The originals had come from the senior meal center that Mother-in-Law worked at before her retirement, and had been phased out from that institution when it switched to disposables.  

The originals, left, and the new on the right.

Anyway, all that to give a little background to the current mystery.  When I was sorting the extra plates and silverware from what we use every day, I noticed that we are missing 7 little forks.  (The size most people refer to as dessert forks; they are the ones we typically give small kids to eat with and refer to a little forks rather than the 'big' forks--regular size forks--adults use).  Now, I know how many forks I own; especially after making it a point, in the last year, to reach a number that would be enough to have 20 or more people eat at once.  And I know which forks are the new 'extras' and which ones I've owned for over 30 years.  And, I'll have to admit, I'm rather attached to the things I've owned for pretty much the entirety of my adult life.

So to have SEVEN forks missing, and all of them be the forks that have served me and my family for over three decades, well, it's a big deal to me.  I counted.  I re-counted.  I looked in every drawer in my kitchen in case someone saw them, unused, on the counter after the dessert was served (at which time I was in the barn doing horses' evening feed) and, thinking they would be helpful, put them away somewhere (obviously not in the correct spot).  I searched and re-searched the counters all around the sink area in case somehow I had missed a bunch of dirty forks during the dishwashing marathon.  I even (ICK!!) dug through the very full bag of trash from Saturday in case a kid or kids had accidentally thrown them away with the paper plates that someone pulled from the cupboard to serve dessert on while I was busy in the barn.

Did I find them?  Nope.  Not a single one!  How do seven forks go missing?!?  It's a mystery.

All I can think of, at this point, is that they were in one of the dishes/casserole pans brought by guests and, unseen, got taken home with someone's dirty dish-to-pass dish.  But you'd think by now, on Tuesday, that they would have been discovered (assuming everyone has washed their Saturday dish by now) and I would have gotten a text saying "Hey, weird thing, I have some of your forks.  They got mixed up with my stuff and brought home by mistake."

The Ugly Biscuit

 This is actually a post I'd intended to write years and years ago.  According to my drafts folder here, I wrote out the title (and didn't type any body) back in the Fall of 2020.  At the time I had made biscuits earlier in the day, was reminded of what my kids always called the last biscuit made in the batch, and thought I'd compose a post in regards to that.

So, life happened, the post didn't get written, and here we are in Spring of 2025.  I made biscuits and gravy for breakfast the other day, ate the Ugly Biscuit, and remembered this intended post of long ago.  

Indulge me in a bit of nostalgia, and I'll include my biscuits and gravy recipe, LOL.

For decades (3+ decades,) I have made biscuits from scratch.  And no matter how many times I've made the same recipe, I can never quite get it to come out with all biscuits the exact same diameter and thickness.  Being that I use a biscuit cutter, they are all uniform size/diameter until I get to the last bit of dough.  

But that last one?  It's typically hand shaped because it's a tad too little dough to roll to the same thickness as the others and be big enough around to use my cutter on. Or, sometimes, that last chunk of dough would roll and make a biscuit, but that would leave some dough around the edges that wasn't enough to make smaller biscuit that's big enough to not burn while cooking but if stuffed into the biscuit cutter with the just cut biscuit would make that biscuit too thick to cook all the way through in the same time as the others on the pan, so I just free form a slightly bigger around biscuit with my hands. Or, sometimes I can take the remaining amount of dough and gently pat it into the biscuit cutter so it is perfectly round and not too thick, but being that it was patted and not rolled, the top isn't smooth like the others.  

Thickness is important, so it cooks evenly and for the same amount of time as the other biscuits on the pan.  Diameter is not as essential. And so, in any pan of biscuits I make, there's always one a little smaller or a little lumpier or a hair larger around than the rest.

That's the Ugly Biscuit.  Probably not a politically correct term, possibly a biscuit body-shaming phrase, but there it is.

Somewhere along the way, one of my kids dubbed that runty or bigger or less-than-smooth (or both!) biscuit as the Ugly Biscuit.  The other kids (and DH) picked up on the moniker, and so forevermore, in every batch of biscuits I make, there is always an Ugly Biscuit.  

It cooks fine.  It has the same yummy texture as the rest of the biscuits.  It tastes just like the other biscuits.  But it's not the other biscuits.  It's the Ugly Biscuit.  And therefore it's special (and we must fight over it, LOL!)

Biscuits and Gravy

For the biscuits:

combine 2 cups all purpose flour with:

1/4 cup lard (or shortening)

1 Tbsp sugar

1 Tbsp baking powder

1 tsp salt 

until all the lard/shortening is mixed in.  

Then add 3/4 cup milk and stir until a soft dough forms.  If sticky, add a little more flour.

Knead on a lightly floured surface 20-30 times.  Then roll out 1/2" thick and cut with a biscuit cutter (mine is not quite 3" around; you can also use an inverted glass of same diameter).  Place on ungreased cookie sheet.

Bake in 450 degree oven for 10-12 minutes until golden brown.

Meanwhile. . . make the gravy.  I usually get to the part of the biscuit recipe where all ingredients but milk are combined, and stick my pork sausage in a pan to brown while I do the rest of the biscuit recipe.

Sausage gravy:

1 pound pork breakfast sausage, crumbled into a skilled and cooked over medium heat until brown.  DO NOT DRAIN!!!

Then add 1 stick (1/2 cup) butter and heat until butter is melted.

Then stir in 1/2 cup flour, and about 1 cup of milk until the milk and flour are combined. 

Slowly add more milk, lots of milk.  I'd estimate 2-3 more cups of milk. I confess I don't measure it, I just add some, stir in, add some more until it's a certain depth in my pan which I know will cook down to the thickness I want.   

Season with salt and pepper to taste, and stir until it comes to a boil.  Then turn heat to medium-low and let simmer, stirring occasionally until it thickens to the desired texture.  Typically if I pop the biscuits in the oven just before adding the milk to the sausage mixture, the gravy is thickened and ready about the same time the biscuits are done cooking.

Sedona With Grandkids

 DH and I took K3 and Toad (the two oldest grandkids) to Sedona Arizona for a hiking trip over their Spring Break.  It was a trip we'd first thought of after visiting Sedona ourselves in March 2023  and decided, last Fall, to finally make happen.  

There's been lots of changes in their lives in the past two years, and we wanted to give them a rest from it rather than being home (in an again changing family) all the time over Spring Break (where they would most likely spend the majority of their days playing video games or watching movies/shows on TV).  We briefly thought about bringing their little brother Rascal along too, but he's much younger and  with much shorter legs would have had a hard time keeping up on the strenuous hiking trails.  At nearly 13 and 10 3/4, K3 and Toad could handle it; plus it was something that acknowledged them as Big Kids rather than Little Kids like the rest of our grandchildren. (Not to mention that Rascal seems to be handling the changes at home easier.)

Like when DH and I went to Sedona in 2023, this trip we flew into Phoenix and got a hotel for the night.  After a good night's sleep, and a nice breakfast, we took the kids to Camelback Mountain.  They had seen pictures of it from our previous trip, and wanted to try it for themselves.

Unfortunately for all of us, there were a lot of other people wanting to hike Camelback that morning and the parking lots at the Echo Canyon trailhead and at the Cholla trailhead were both full. We drove back and forth between the two for a while, hoping to get a parking spot at either one.  We finally did get one at Echo Canyon, but with the parking delay we didn't get on the trailhead until close to noon. Also not in our favor, the temperature was all ready over 85 degrees, and with the sun directly overhead, it was rapidly getting hotter. Remember, we'd come from Michigan where we'd just had a warm spell in the upper 40's.

All of which to say, we didn't summit Camelback this trip. DH in particular struggled (partly, we think, because the kids were keeping a much zippier pace than we had on our previous trip) and he ended up sitting on the side of the trail in a semi-shady spot while K3, Toad and I went on ahead.  

The three of us started up the rock scramble portion, but about halfway up that, K3 and Toad asked if we could turn around and just go back down.  Since I was rather winded and hot myself (keeping up with the young whippersnappers), and I was a bit concerned that they had all ready drank more than half of their water, and I was really worried about DH,  I agreed we could call it good where we were at.  

In retrospect, I kind of wish I'd told the kids to keep going, as the summit really wasn't much further over the top of that rock scramble.  Oh well.  Better to turn around than to lose a hiker to heat exhaustion.  Next time we'll plan to be at the trailhead by 8 a.m. to beat both the heat and the glut of hikers needing parking.

From there, we headed up to Sedona, where we checked into our resort, took the kids out to an early dinner at the delicious Mexican restaurant we'd discovered on that 2023 trip (Javelina Cantina), hit the grocery store for food supplies, then back to the resort for an evening swim in the pool.

And that kind of set our schedule for the next three days: 

• get up about 6 a.m., have breakfast, 
• hit the hiking trails about 8 a.m., hike for several hours/miles,
• back to the resort and make lunch, 
• swim in the pool/soak in the hot tub (really was great for keeping the hips and knees from stiffening up after using them hard on the trails)
• dinner (usually grilled or otherwise cooked in the kitchenette of our suite)
• K3, Toad, and usually DH had a post-dinner swim while I read either poolside or on our patio depending on how busy/loud the pool area was.

Our first excursion in Sedona was to hike to Devil's Bridge.  This time we parked in the Mezcal trailhead lot and took that trail.  Although the kids did their best to act like they weren't having fun (because, you know, tweens), they were typically exploring up ahead and after several reminders not to get too far in front of us, they did get the idea to stop and wait for us to catch up.  Most times we caught them taking pictures of scenery while they waited.  (What?!?  Taking pictures of somewhere you aren't having fun??)

Other times we found them taking advantage of a raised, shady perch a little to the side of the trail.

Of course we did hear the question "How much longer?" several times.  And after having both DH and I usually respond "we're almost there, just a little bit further", and also hearing other hikers coming back from where we were going often say "Keep going, you're almost there; it's just a little further", by the middle of the second day the kids started to joke that "Just a little further" really was hiker code for "Five more miles".  Which isn't true, as the longest hike we did in a day was 5.5 miles round trip.  The others were only about 4 miles each.

That 5.5 miler was on the Soldier Pass trail, the next day.  It was kind of a long day, partly because the parking lot at the trailhead wasn't open for the season, and we had to park down at a municipal park, then walk up a road and through a residential area to get to the trail.  So, of course, on the way back to the car we were all hot, sweaty, weary, running on the last of our water, out of snacks and about an hour past lunch time.

Extra mileage for parking aside, it was a great hike and one that we will definitely plan on doing again.  We saw three great features on the trail, and didn't even go all the way to the Pass for the vista view (we were tired, had hit the 'used half our water' mark, the kids were playing the "how much longer?" record on repeat. . .)  So next time we'll be all in and make it to the Pass. (And hopefully the trailhead parking lot will be open!)

This time, we marveled at  Devil's Kitchen, 

Saw the Seven Sacred Pools (which the kids were a bit disappointed weren't anything they could swim in)

Hiked/rock scrambled up to a big cave (which I didn't get a good picture of), and nearly to the big cave the kids went and explored a little cave, in which they were told (and took a picture of to show their friends) was a little Jesus statue.  So then the joke was that over Spring Break DH and I had dragged them through the wilderness where they found Jesus.  (Irreverent humor, hopefully no reader is offended.)

The little cave with Jesus.

Our third hiking destination in Sedona this trip was Cathedral Rock.  This was another spectacular, and sometimes physically and mentally brutal, hike.  Definitely a must-do again. 

(Ha ha, while proofreading this I'm rereading my descriptions of the hikes and wondering how many readers think I must be a sadist: "brutal" "strenuous" often followed by "must do again!".)  

The vast majority of the trail was over smooth rock (alternately steep and somewhat terrifying) , and you needed to watch for either the rock cairns or the painted blazes on the rock to know where to go next.

My favorite photo from our trip,

about 2/3 of the way up Cathedral Rock.

You get up a ways, and you think "wow, I must be just about there, I've climbed pretty high all ready", and then you keep following the cairns/blazes around this turn and that turn and another steep & narrow climb or two, and you're sure you must be close to the end of the trail.

The steep way up

Same part of the trail, on our way back down.

And you're going, and hikers coming down tell you how great the view is at the end, and to keep going because you're-almost-there-it's-just-a-little-further (and your grandkids roll their eyes because apparently you're going to insist they hike another five miles to get to the end), and before you know it, you are looking at the back side of the pillars that you took a picture of the front of just about twenty minutes ago.

And that is the end of the trail.  And yes, there was a sign, attached to a rock cairn just before a huge drop-off, that said END OF TRAIL.  And you took a picture of your grandkids by that sign, and they both insisted you text them the picture so they could show it to all their friends when they get home.  And you know it was a great trip and they truly enjoyed all those miles of being dragged through the wilderness.

But that wasn't the end of the trip.  Our flight home from Phoenix wasn't until the following evening, so unknown to K3 and Toad, DH booked the four of us for an 8 a.m. off-road Jeep tour (the 8 a.m. tours were 25% cheaper than the tours from 9:00 on, so really it was like we bought 3 and got one person free!).  The tour took us on a really rocky, winding, rough road where we saw many features of the Mogollon Rim.  The scenery was beautiful, and our driver/guide made it extra fun for the kids by punching the gas pedal hard at every bump that was shaped right to give the Jeep some air between it's tires and the ground.  When they weren't shrieking, they were laughing, or at least sporting giant smiles.

All in all, I think they had a lot of fun.  And you know what?  Not once did they watch TV, or play video games that entire week.  I think it's good to expose them to some fun in nature and let them know they can be happy without screens entertaining them.

Of course now Rascal and Faline want to know when it's their turn to fly away on an airplane and go on a hiking trip with DH and I.  Our tentative plan for that is about three years from now, when they will be about 9 and 8, and have long enough legs and enough stamina to go for miles.

The Crocus Are In Bloom

I'm crazy busy lately, but wanted to pop in quick to share a picture of some of my crocus with you.  They are blooming like crazy right now, and in fact a few of them are all ready done blooming.  This patch I need to remember to mark so that later, when they are done, I can dig them up, thin out the bulbs and use the 'extras' to plant another cheerful splash of early Spring yellow and purple somewhere.

Soggy Morning

The forecast for Wednesday was WET with a good possibility of strong storms in the evening hours depending on if the sun ever came out that day and how much the temperature rose. 

Morning was definitely spot on; with pouring rain and thunder rumbling like the sound of a tractor pulling an empty gravity wagon back and forth on the road in front of my house.  Horses were going to have to stay in the barn, as the air temperature was hovering just above the freezing mark and it was going to be impossible to put the horses outside without them getting drenched to the skin in the rain.  I didn't want anyone to get chilled.

So, rather than turning them out after their breakfast had been eaten, I decided I would stay in the house and do some house chores in the morning, then go to the barn after lunch and (hopefully) turnout horses during the break in the rain we were supposed to get midday.  It's always easier to clean stalls while the horses are outside, so I just flip-flopped my typical stalls-in-the-morning, house-in-the-afternoon schedule.

DH had been hinting on Tuesday about wanting some macadamia nut cookies, and this rainy morning was a perfect time to make some.  Thankfully, Tuesday I had planned ahead and taken a stick of butter out of the fridge to warm up and soften.

The first step in making the cookies was to gather the ingredients.  So, I began by retrieving that stick of butter from the barn-shaped cookie jar on the counter.

"What?!?" you say.  Butter in the cookie jar? Huh?

Yeah, when I want to set out a stick of butter to soften, I've learned to put it in the barn cookie jar (which, as my overflow cookie jar, rarely gets used because I don't often make double batches of cookies since the kids grew up and moved to houses of their own).  Otherwise The Yarn Thief will jump up on the counter, no matter which counter I put the butter on (or try to hide it under a dish towel), and lick/eat it.  She didn't used to jump on counters at all, but in the last handful of years she has developed the bad habit of doing it when I'm outside, or at night when DH and I are sleeping.  Always when there's nobody nearby to discipline her for it.

Getting the container of macadamia nuts out of the pantry, I looked at the level of the contents and suspected I was going to be short on the needed amount of nuts.  Bummer.  What could I sub in for the lacking macadamias?  

Walnuts!  Walnuts I have plenty of on hand, and they sounded like they would go well with macadamia nuts and white chocolate chips.  So I altered my recipe a tad and made Macadamia Walnut Cookies instead.

In the process of making the cookie dough, I used up the last of the vanilla in the little bottle I use for measuring out of when cooking and baking.  And, oops, the cabinet where I keep my steeping jar of vanilla revealed that I forgot to start another batch a month or so ago when I bought the vodka to use to soak vanilla beans in thus making vanilla extract.

Well, while the cookies were baking, I would just make use of that time to get another jar of vanilla beans steeping.  And, heck, while I was at it, and because the bottle of vodka is enough to make two batches of vanilla and I had plenty of vanilla beans on hand, why not just get two jars going?

Which is how I, all by myself, went through an entire bottle of vodka that morning.  I'm practically a teetotaler, so DH of course had to tease me about that empty bottle sitting on the kitchen island. . . 

The sun never did come out on Wednesday, although the rain stopped for a couple of hours.  It resumed again around 8:00 p.m. in the form of thunderstorms and kept up most of the night.  Based on how much fuller the horses' water trough were Thursday morning than on Tuesday evening when horses last had access to them, I'm guessing we got somewhere in the range of 5-6 inches of rain in about 36 hours.

Macadamia Walnut Cookies

(For macadamia nut cookies I use the basic Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip recipe, but instead of chocolate chips I use white chocolate chips and add 1 cup macadamia nuts.)

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened

1/2 cup shortening or lard (I use lard since I'm very sensitive to soy as I get older and soy is now in just about all brands of shortening)

3/4 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup white (granulated) sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 1/4 cup all purpose flour (I use unbleached)

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 cup white chocolate (vanilla) chips

1/2 cup chopped mac nuts 

1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Mix together sugars, butter and shortening/lard until creamy.  Stir in the eggs and vanilla.  Add in the flour, baking soda and salt, then stir until combined.  Next add the nuts and white chocolate chips and stir enough to evenly distribute through dough.  Place on to ungreased cookie sheets by rounded spoonfuls.

Bake at 375 degrees for approx. 9-11 min until edges are browned. (Baking time varies by oven; my old one was 10-11 minutes, the newer one seems to get it done in 9 minutes.)  Remove from cookie sheets and cool on wire racks.

Gotta Love Free Books!

 Two years ago, a friend of mine organized a community book swap.  It was held in the resource room at her local library.  The premise was that people brought books to swap--minimum of one book required for admission, attendees could take home as many books as they wanted, and at the end of the swap all 'homeless' books were donated to the library for their annual used book sale.

I ended up being unable to make it to the swap, because K2's funeral ended up being scheduled for the same day.  My dear, dear friend, when she heard of this conflict, told me that she'd had numerous people give her boxes of books they no longer wanted and wished to donate to the swap without attending, and invited me to her house to check out the donations.  I found about a dozen books in those pre-swap boxes and being able to take them home even though I wouldn't be able to be at the swap itself helped brighten up a really dark time.

Her book swap was such an overwhelming success, and she had so many requests for another book swap in the not too distant future, that she did!  It needed a larger venue, so that had to be obtained before setting a firm event date.  Ended up being in the Fall of that year.

That one I did attend.  It was another, even larger, impressive turnout of people and books.  Such a big turnout that there wasn't enough table space for all the books brought to be swapped.  And thus was born a semi annual event: the community book swap.

Last year, there was a Spring swap (which I attended and stood in line for almost an hour to get into as there was so many people wanting to swap that the room was at maximum human capacity and people had to be let in only as other people left) and a Fall swap.  The Fall swap had some changes made, such as you could buy an early admittance for $5 and get in an hour early for 'private shopping' before the masses were let in.  That helped a bit with shortening the line, but the turnout was still bigger than the event venue.

This year, the Spring swap was at another new, even larger, location.  The 'early bird special $5 admission' was again offered.  Frugal me, I went for the (free) general admission time and had no trouble getting right in.  I went with only six books to donate (apparently I didn't read much at all between October and March), but came home with sixteen.

Some are for the grandkids to read, some are in brand new condition that I will probably give as gifts, but mostly they are for me!  I was especially excited to spot this book:

Back in 2013 & 2014, when I was learning to knit, I learn to how to knit socks on double pointed needles, and also the Magic Loop method using a circular needle.  At that time, I found that I prefer double points.  2015 or so,  I first heard about the Two at a Time (TAAT) method, and it intrigued me but not enough to seek out more information and give it a try.  I even heard of this exact book, but there was so much stuff going on in my life at that point that I was far from trying anything new that I suspected might require my complete attention to learn.

But now, it's 2025 and I'd actually recently been thinking about maybe adding this book to my list of things I wanted to request from the library. To see it sitting there, in front of me, on the "Crafting" table at the book swap surely was a sign from above!  So I grabbed it and stuffed it into my bag.

Imagine my complete and utter delight when I got it home, was showing off my prizes (new books) to DH, opened the book and there, tucked inside by the previous (now unknown) owner were two sizes of needles needed for some of the patterns in the book!  Woo hoo!  A book teaching the method, 17 patterns and two sets of needles for knitting with!  WINNER WINNER!!

Gotta love free books!

Yeehaw, Hang on to Your Hats!

 We had quite a storm blow through yesterday evening.  Not unexpected at all, in fact, it hit just about the exact time the meteorologists had been predicting for two days.  So we were ready for it.

As dinner was cooking in the oven (Husband's Delight, I'll put the recipe at the bottom of this post), I ran out to the barn and put evening feed in the horse's stalls, anticipating that I would need to bring them in a little early.

Ran back to the house as the timer on the oven was just finishing up.  DH and I sat down to salad and Husband's Delight, me keeping an eye on the darkening sky to the south.  

I gulped down the last few bites on my plate, then jumped up and headed out to the barn.  Just as I got there, my phone went off in a tornado warning alert.  Of course it said to seek shelter immediately, to which I replied (yes, out loud) "I will, just as soon as I get horses in." Because that's how it works when you have a farm.  Livestock first, then yourself.

I was to the mares' pasture gate (as the Poetess is always the first horse to come in--alpha mare that she is), where both mares were standing to meet me, when I heard the storm sirens in the village (6+ miles away) go off.  And then the wind kicked up.  Oh boy, here we go!

DH met me part of the way to the barn and took the Poetess from me so I could run back and get the LBM.  By the time I got to the same spot with her, he met me again with both of the geldings' halters.  I went to the their pasture, and quickly haltered one, pulled him through the gate and DH was back again, ready to receive the lead rope.  The last horse was anxious to get in by then, looking worriedly off to the south and waiting practically smashed at the gate for me to come in and grab him.

We got all the horses in their stalls and the barn shut up tight, then speed walked into the wind back to the house.  I had just pulled my muck boots off in the garage and decided (fool that I am for a good storm), to head out onto the front porch in my stocking feet to watch the front roll in, when it hit.

And man, did it hit good!  Straight line winds right out of the south and driving rain coming completely sideways.  Forget going on the front porch, it was like walking into a firehose!  So I went into the house instead, just in time to see (through the kitchen windows) the little side table go scooting across the entire length of the front porch (about 30') driven by the wind.  

Looking out the other windows, you couldn't see hardly anything the rain and wind were coming so hard.  I did notice that we were missing the little plastic toddler sized playset that sits in the backyard closest to the house.  It had been in the yard a few minutes ago, when DH and I entered the garage, but now it was missing.

The electricity blinked off and back on twice, then went off for good.  As of this writing (over 17 hours later), it is still off.  

About fifteen minutes after it hit, the leading edge of the storm had passed and the wind let up enough that we could see through the rain, I located that playset.  In pieces, starting out near the chicken coop and ending towards the field, about 50 yards from where it had originally sat.

playset pieces scattered from the backyard to the shop

Later, once the wind had died off and the rain slowed to a drizzle, DH and I went out to check on the horses and chickens (stubborn chickens had not wanted to go into their coop before the storm), and to assess damages.

Horses, horse barn and fencing: Fine.

Chickens and coop: Fine (all chickens huddled on their roost by then, LOL).

DH's shop: lots of water inside because the south facing door had been damaged by the wind hitting it full force.  South door has a huge dent and was raised about 10" by the force, and the east facing door is bent outward from the pressure inside the building.  We're going to have to put in our first ever claim on our homeowner's insurance.

House: lost a long piece of fascia of  the peak of the South gable.  Also several pieces of soffit partially ripped off on the front porch and the piece of soffit closest the door that goes from the garage to the front porch is all mangled and punched up into the garage attic (again, extreme air pressure).  A window screen ripped off a living room window is bent up and seems to have a piece of the window edging itself still attached.  Add that to the insurance claim.  A wooden chair that lives on the front porch was thrown up against the railing by the wind so hard that the backrest broke off.  All other porch/deck/patio furniture moved around, some flipped, but nothing else damaged.

Shed and garden/grape arbor: Fine

Trees: all the trees around the house and yard look fine, including the dead one leaning towards the utility pole that the electric company was supposed to have their contractor remove last Fall. In the northeast corner of the field, near the entrance to the 'north road' in our woods, a very large, tall, tree has the top completely broken out of it.  We'll have to examine it close up to determine if we need to take the entire tree down or let it be and see if it recovers.

This morning, the temperature is almost 40 degrees cooler than it was yesterday, with winds now coming from the north.  We have the generator on at the house so DH can have internet to work from home, and we have heat, lights, water, and the fridges and freezers can stay cool. We'll run the generator all day (or until the power is restored) then shut it off at bedtime to save fuel and have quiet for sleeping.  

There's no power in the barn though, so I strapped on my handy headlamp and cleaned stalls by its meager light.

selfie with headlamp

not the greatest stall cleaning light, but it does the job

(note shadow from my phone while taking the picture!)

HUSBAND'S DELIGHT

(recipe originally found in a magazine by my aunt in the early 1980's)

1 pound ground beef

6 ounces sour cream

3 ounces cream cheese

1/4 tsp garlic powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 Tbsp sugar

15 ounce can tomato sauce

1/2 cup chopped onion

10 ounces wide egg noodles

1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

1. Set cream cheese out in a small bowl to soften for an hour (or soften on warm setting of microwave)

2. Cook ground beef and onion until meat is browned.  Meanwhile, cook the egg noodles until tender.

3. To the meat and onion, add seasonings and tomato sauce.

4. Drain noodles.

5. Add sour cream to the softened cream cheese and mix well.

6. In a greased 9" x 13" baking dish, layer half the noodles, then half the meat sauce, then half the cream sauce.  Then layer remaining meat sauce, remaining cream sauce, and remaining noodles.  Top with the shredded mozzarella.

7. Cover dish with foil and bake in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes.

Fourteen Years?!?

 Today is 14 years since I started this blog.  Wow.  So much has happened, my family has grown, and changed, and life is so different (but yet, also the same) as it was back in 2011.

There have been many times, in the last two years especially, when I've asked myself why I have this blog still.  I feel like I don't do right by it; that I don't post as often as I want, nor do my of my posts in recent years have the tone I'd like them to have.  A lot of them, to me anyway, feel like I'm giving a report rather than chatting with a friend.

What to do? 

Pull the plug and stop blogging?  Am I just done?  Am I out of things to say and share?  Is blogging dead anyway?  (I find it harder as time goes on to find blogs that I'm interested in--real people not selling products or faux lifestyles.)  Does everyone just prefer photos and not much meaty (as in substantial) talk these days?

Or try to find time (and topics I find fun/appealing) to post about much more regularly--like weekly as a minimum?  Set a schedule and do what is necessary to stick with it (even if I'm not feeling it?)

Give myself grace and just let the timing and topics be what they may?  That was my original intent, really, just to share what comes through my life, good and bad, interesting and dull.  Just an everyday average person, not some super hyped-up-always-bright-and-sunny version of womanhood.

I started this blog more as an outlet for myself (I've always loved writing, but hate writing on assigned topics) than anything else.  It's never been a financial thing, it's never been a popularity thing, and for the most part I never talk about politics or current social hot buttons because those just aren't me.  I do still want to write posts.  I do still want to share thoughts and ideas and happenings and creations.  I'm definitely not out of things to share.  If blogging is mostly dead, well, it's not completely buried yet, and I'm fairly sure there are people like me out there who want to read not just look at perfect pictures and witty captions.

So where do I/this little place here go from here?  Well, we shall see what the future holds.  Life is busy, but it's always been busy.  I'm trying to learn to be better at self-care (a totally foreign concept for most of my life) and writing, for me, is a form of self-care.  

I need to sit on my porch swing more and write.  I mean, that's why I always wanted a porch swing--to sit and relax on--and why my kids bought me one a few years ago. 

Would you like to join me?

Lucky

 Grandbaby #7, whom I dubbed Lucky for referring to at this little place here, was born at the end of January.  

DS2 and Surprise had kept the gender a secret until after the birth, so until I got the proud phone call from DS2 announcing baby's arrival, I didn't know for sure that Lucky is a little boy!  (Confession time:  I'd really been hoping that Lucky would be a boy.  DS2 and Surprise have been trying to start their family for a while, and I just really hoped that DS2 would get to have a son. Daughters are good too, and hopefully God will give them one of those in the coming years, but if it was/is going to be just one child for them, I was rooting for a boy.)

Given that I was supposed to be making a 'gender neutral' quilt for this grandbaby, whose gender was top secret, I really had a hard time.  Surprise had said yellow, green, gray, some blue, maybe a tiny bit of purple.  I wanted to stick with that palette even though it wasn't one that I was drawn to.

I knew what pattern I wanted to use--square in a square--but as far as what fabrics, well the ones that kept speaking to me leaned toward the boyish. 

It all started with the feature fabric, which is a Disney print.  As soon as I saw that fabric online, I knew it was the one for this quilt--DS2 and Surprise met by accident at Walt Disney World 10 years ago.  So the Disney themed fabric absolutely had to be for Lucky's quilt.  Had that chance meeting between a New Jersey girl and a Michigan boy not happened at Disney World, there would be no Lucky.

After that, I just went through my stash and found fabrics I all ready owned that coordinated with the colors in the Disney Fabric.  Yellow, green, gray and some blue. 

For a day or two I debated throwing in a light pink or purple which also looked okay, but in the end I omitted those two colors because they just didn't 'feel right' to me. I sewed the quilt, the whole time hoping it wasn't going to turn out too overtly saying 'boy quilt' and have Lucky turn out to be a girl and then have Surprise not really want to use the quilt made specifically for that child because it wasn't girlish enough.

So it was kind of a relief when DS2 called and said that Lucky is a boy.  Now I didn't feel quite so nervous about gifting the quilt I made.  It's still pretty much gender-neutral, especially bordered in the yellow fabric I chose.

Lucky's very gender neutral quilt (heavy on the yellow)

Gender-neutral backing (heavy on the green)

The day Lucky was born, I had finished quilting but hadn't yet sewn on the binding of the quilt.  Which didn't end up being a big deal, because DS2 and Surprise requested no visitors for at least the first week after Lucky's birth.  So that gave me time to hand sew the binding down.

Lucky was 8 days old when DH and I got to see him.  He's a little skinny bugger, weighing in at less than 7 pounds at birth and being 19.5" long.  But he's really strong all ready and has pretty good neck strength/head control for a newborn.  Both DS2 and Surprise are fair skinned, so odds are good that Lucky will be too.  We'll have to wait several months to see if his eyes will be blue like DS2, or greenish like Surprise.  Right now they are the typical newborn bluish grey and he has thin dark brown hair (which, if it's anything like my kids and several of my older grandkids as babies, will fall out and come back in blond or sandy colored for the first 5ish years.)

Requiem For a Rooster

 

This is Stuart.  Stuart came to this little place here as a 'free mystery chick' in an order from McMurray Hatchery back in 2018.  He was a little bitty ball of fluff, and, as a day old, I thought he might be a bantam of some sort.  In fact, his size is what gave him his name: Stuart Little. As he grew, and his adult feathers came in, and he displayed an atypically luxurious tail of long black/green feathers, I finally figured out that he wasn't a bantam at all, but a Silver Phoenix.

Stuart got to stay at this little place here partly because of his unique breed with it's long flowing tail (visitors always complimented me on my beautiful rooster) and partly because he was, for the most part, a very friendly and non-aggressive roo.  Very occasionally he would challenge me, typically the first time I'd wear shorts in the Spring and he wouldn't recognize my legs, but usually he was a mellow guy and would even walk up to greet me.

Coming to see me on the patio.

Stuart got to sire a bunch of the chicks that hatched out in DD2's science summer school classes in 2021 and 2022.  We even kept a couple of his 2021 daughters here (who laid lovely green eggs, being half Ameracauna and half Silver Phoenix) for a while.  He was great with his hens, very protective.

Unfortunately, a week and a half ago, Stuart went out with his ladies to forage in the corn stubble on a nice late January day.  That night, when I counted chickens to shut them into the coop for the night, Stuart was missing. I searched high and low, even following chicken tracks out and around in the field, but found no sign of him.  Not a carcass, not any feathers, not even a speck of blood.  And since Stuart has always returned to the coop, every single night, I had to face the fact that he's gone.  Most likely carried off by a hawk while he was out in the field having fun rummaging in the corn stubble for kernels and calling his ladies to come enjoy the feast he'd found.

RIP Stuart.  You were a good rooster.  One of the best, one of my favorites of the last 21 years.

Buck and Papa

 Buck is in a phase where he absolutely adores his Papa (DH) and asks to see him.  He's a few months past his second birthday, and yes, he actually asks to come over to this little place here and hang out with his Papa.

Almost two weeks ago, he got to do this solo for the first time ever.  After a rocky few minutes right after getting dropped off and then realizing it was just him, Papa, and I, which evoked some tears and calling for his Daddy, he settled in.  

The first thing he wanted to do was have a snack. Papa is always up for a snack, so they had venison summer sausage (made by Papa this past hunting season) and cheese.  I forget the exact conversation held while snacking, but it included Buck gesturing out towards our woods and saying that Papa sits in the trees.

The next thing he wanted to do was do some puzzles.  We tried to interest him in the easy toddler puzzles we have--the wooden kind with less than a dozen pieces, but he had his heart set on the 48-piece Frozen puzzles we have.  With Papa's help, he was able to match up the colors and designs on the pieces and put the puzzle together.  I snapped a picture during the twenty minutes or so they took to work on the first puzzle.  Once that one was done, he insisted on doing another (we have three Frozen puzzles).

Like Papa, Buck has a stocky build and thick hands.  He's also got Papa's blue eyes.  Hopefully not Papa's hairline, although they say guys inherit that trait through their mother and to look at the mother's father to see if they will be balding or not, so poor Buck is probably doomed since his mom is DD1, daughter of Papa.

Buck hadn't had a nap before arriving at this little place here, despite his parents' best efforts.  Unfortunately for him, that meant that he fell asleep while sitting on Papa's lap and having Papa read to him.  After sleeping for an hour, he woke up ready to play again, with two goals in mind:

1. Ride on the tractor with Papa (who let him 'steer' )
2. Ride on the 4-wheeler with Papa (who didn't let him steer as his arms are still too short to span the handlebar).

We had an inch or so of snow on the ground, so Papa got out the sled with the long rope on it, and pulled Buck around on the sled behind the 4-wheeler for a little bit.  He biffed it once, Buck having gotten to rocking the sled from side to side and flipped over when he rocked a little too far.  That got him a mouthful of snow, but when Papa circled back around to him with the sled he was game to climb back on and go again.

Once the sled and 4-wheeler had been put away, he told us that he wanted to "go home and eat with my family" rather than stay for dinner.  (Buck doesn't talk a lot, but when he feels so moved, he has lots and lots of words.  And opinions.) So Papa took him home.

It's a Dry Cold

 You know how people talk about the summer heat in the southwest or desert part of the US as being not as bad as the heat in the more wetter parts of the country?  How they say the high temperatures are more tolerable there because "It's a dry heat" with low humidity?

Well, right now the Midwest is in a cold spell.  So cold that the area schools (at least those of several counties around this little place here) are closed because it is 'too cold' to be safe for the kids to go to school.

I kind of get it, if you don't have adequate clothing (heavy coat, hats, gloves, scarves, boots, etc) for the winter temperatures.  That can be bad.  And unfortunately it seems that more and more parents don't provide their kids with insulated boots, warm coats, sturdy pants that block the wind, hats, gloves, etc.  My feelings on that lack are rant-worthy.  However, that's not what I'm posting about today.

Because if you do have adequate gear, these zero and sub-zero temps aren't all that terrible.

I actually like these temperatures (barely above zero this morning when I was out doing chores, with moderate wind bringing wind chill to around 5ish below zero) better than when it's in the mid thirties or the forties here.  

Because it's a dry cold.  

There's no component of dampness, and I stay warmer in my layers in frigid air than I do with warmer temps, less layers and higher moisture in the ground and air around me.  Layer up, and keep moving; that's the secret.

Despite the 'dangerous' cold today, I'm wishing I was outside on a pair of cross-country skis.  It's a great day for gliding around, enjoying winter.

That Silent Language of Marriage

 You know how when you've been married a while, it's almost like you can read each other's thoughts?

Like the two of you have a special language that nobody else knows?

I think after 34 years together, DH has just about gotten the non-verbal communication down to an art. (Still needs work on the verbal though, ha ha.)

For instance, that stack of receipts on the kitchen counter near the toaster?  Those are his, and by setting them there he's saying "Honey, accountant of the family, here are some expenditures for you to notate and file."

And when there's a pair of his socks, or a sweatshirt of his, or a muddy pair of jeans laying directly in front of the washing machine, he's saying "Love of My Life, I need you to wash these so I can wear them again."

Can you guess what he's saying in each of the following pictures?

"I only wore these for a couple of hours, to church, so they are still clean.  Best Hanger-Upper of Clothes Ever, please but them back on hangers and hang them in my closet because I don't know how.  Oh, there's two pair of pants because I pulled out the wrong ones at first, but they came off the hanger so I couldn't put them back, I had to put them on the bed."

"Dear Wife, I have used all the coffee beans in this bag and I shall perish tomorrow without coffee unless you magically supply me with a new bag, located in the freezer of the basement fridge (aka the beer fridge)"

"Wonderful Cleaner of Our Home, next time you go to the basement, please take this newspaper I have finished reading and put it in the stack of newspapers down there that we use when lighting the charcoal grill."

And one I forgot to take a picture of, but will describe so you can guess what he'ssaying. The blue container next to the coffee maker in the picture about being out of coffee beans is where he dumps the used coffee filters and grounds.  When he can't stuff any more in it, he sets the container on the kitchen island (which is about three feet away from the coffee area). 

Which, of course, means "Most Awesome Woman, please walk out to the compost bin at the garden and dump this container of grounds so that they can become a soil amendment and I can have room in the container when I need to put a used filter in it tomorrow after making coffee."

Have you noticed a hint of sarcasm while reading this?  If so, you're right.  I don't fully appreciate DH's habits involving leaving stuff he wants taken care of right in my way so I will see them (and maybe trip over them--newspaper by the door to the basement stairs, dirty clothes in front of the washing machine) and deal with them without him actually having to take the time to find me and ask me to do these things.  Or, heaven forbid, learning to do them himself (hanging up clothes).

But, in the grand scheme of things, these are minor things to be annoyed at my husband over.  Can't let molehills become mountains.

I do have to admit I have my own idiosyncrasies that he probably doesn't really appreciate either.

C'est la vie.