Of Valentines and Mardi Gras

I made these sweet little flower headbands for my girls for V-day.  One for Hope and one for Lauren (Drew's girlfriend).  They were fun to make and fun to give.  I love my girls! 

My "steady" Valentine brought home Gerbera daisies.  Yay!  He knows these bright cuties will make me smile!  After the miserably cold winter we've had (at least by south LA standards), we needed something bright and cheery and springy.  Thankfully we've warmed up nicely into the mid-'70s for the past few days, but I'm still not convinced spring is here to stay...

Last Monday was a quirky Valentine's Day, to be sure!  Quirky, and fun. 

At the last minute (like Sunday afternoon) I heard about a performance of The Vagina Monologues at the Little Theater, which was a fundraiser for an organization that works to stop human trafficking.  I've never seen the show, and couldn't resist, especially for a good cause.  My hubby, who secretly loves all things theater, politely declined this offering.  He said he somehow couldn't bring himself to imagine "them talking to one another."  I told him "monologue" meant one talks at a time.  He still wasn't signing on, but he encouraged me to go and make it a girl's night -- so I did.  A multi-generational girl's night, actually.  My daughter and my mom "came to town" and off we went, not knowing quite what to expect.  It was truly an experience!  Funny, provocative, poignant, and thought-provoking.  What a different Valentine's Day! 

Now we're gearing up for Mardi Gras. 

No, we don't do President's Day in the deep south.  Everyone except the postal workers had a regular work day today.  We're saving up our time off for the Fat Tuesday brouhaha.  And a grand shindig it will be!  It's actually started already.  Hope's been to her Mardi Gras ball (a big group of friends she went to high school with get together as a sort of annual reunion), we've knocked out a couple of king cakes, and we all trooped downtown Saturday night for the first night parade of the season.  The weather was perfect, and lots of families turned out along the parade route.  We caught a bunch of beads, enjoyed the bands and the drill teams, ran into some old friends, and had fun people-watching, especially all the kids.  And there's lots more where that came from! 

Y'all stay tuned for some Mardi Gras pix...

CHOCOLATE is Grand!

MMMMmmmmmm.....now, THAT will make your mouth water!

These are the very BEST brownies I have EVER eaten, and believe me, I have eaten a few in my day. 

I made the ones above (yeah, I ate most of them too, ok; so what??) and they look almost as good as they did in the magazine, dontcha think?

 (I would like to thank my pals Sally and Michael V. for inspiring me to photograph my cooking...I'm not in your league yet, guys, but this is a good start, huh?!)

We're not sure how this magazine made its way to our house, but it was addressed to Drew.  Methinks he's been spending a tad too much of his take-home pay at the local speciality cooking stores.  They don't realize that he's getting near slave wages in that fancy-schmancy French restaurant in the toney part of town; apparently he doesn't either, by the way he shops.  Ah well, reality always hits....

Anyway, fate brought us this heavenly brownie recipe, and I wanted to share it, but I haven't had time to read up in my "Blogging For Dummies" book to learn exactly how to properly post and cite a recipe that has previously been published, so I googled the link for anyone who'd be interested.  And here it is: 
http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2011/02/cocoa_brownies_with_browned_butter_and_walnuts

(ok y'all-who-know-how-to-do-this-stuff, if this is not cool, will somebody please let me know so I can change it?  thx)

Here are my "brownie tips" for this recipe:  (1) Do not, I repeat DO NOT let the cooking time on this recipe put you off.  Yes, I know it says 5 hours.  I guess they are including the full recommended cooling time.  Silly people.  Who ever heard of letting brownies cool??  (2)  Be prepared:  this recipe makes one of those half-size batches.  Between Drew (who inherited my sweet tooth, God love him) and me, they didn't last very long at our house (even with my yukky cold) so you might consider doubling it.  (3) DO line the pan with aluminum foil the way the recipe directs.  Sometimes I'll skip stuff like that (and the cooling time), but truthfully, both of those steps are the secrets to making the brownies cut so well and look so pretty.  Maybe some people plan ahead and allow for speed bumps like extra prep steps or cooling time; I couldn't tell you about that.  As long as they're fully baked, hot, and chocolate, I'm good. 

Hmmmm....just typing about these brownies is making me crave them....I'm thinking we might need a brownie encore for V-Day.  Yeah, yeah, I know:  might as well spread these babies on my hips and thighs since that's right where they're headed, but trust me on this:  they are sooooo chocolately delicious, they're worth it! 

Y'all let me know what you think!  And have a grand Valentine's Day! 

Angela

Fences Make Good Neighbors

Thank you, Robert Frost!
 

This picture was taken about ten years ago at the fenceline in our backyard, overlooking the pasture.  We knew when we bougth our house in 1999 that the Green Acres view wouldn't last forever. 

We're grateful for the years we had with grazing sheep, calves born just the other side of the fence, and all of the peacefulness of the countryside smack dab in the middle of town.  Drew loved slipping off to the creek and I loved not having to worry about curtains on the windows overlooking the back verandah.  Hope loved the bull, and he was fascinated by her.  The only problem we had was the year Dewey started the tomato garden and the cows kept reaching over the wire fence to nibble the plant tops.  He added a little extra chicken wire, problem solved.

Well, you know the saying:  all good things....

Here's the view we've had for the past couple of months: 

oy vey!  Dozers, and tractors, and mud, oh my!  Dewey keeps reminding me to look on the bright side:  had they started in the spring and run into the summer, we'd be coated in dust.  True, I guess. 

Well, you can't fight progress (or City Hall, let me just tell you).  And desperate times call for desperate measures, so here you go: 

While we were visiting Sal and Al in Kentucky over New Year's, we had a Good Neighbor installed.  It wasn't really what I wanted for Christmas, but I'm getting used to it, and it has helped with both privacy and a sense of security.  The backhoe driver is no longer waving to me as I load up my car for work in the mornings, and it makes for a nice place to stash the ginormous trash can the city issued along with the recycling bin.

In November we bought a fig tree from the fundraiser at the middle school where Hope teaches, and Daddy said we needed to plant it "up against" something so its branches would be protected from the wind and it would bear more fruit.  Guess we got that covered now.  That's it in the pot in the foreground, out for a little sun next to the blueberry bushes, the satsuma twig, uh tree, and the Meyer lemon bush.  As soon as we get past the danger of the last hard freeze, probably some time between Mardi Gras and Good Friday, we'll pick a sunny patch along the Neighbor, dig a hole to put it in, step back and watch Mother Nature do her thing. 

Picking fresh fruit from your backyard is just grand, even if the farm animals aren't there in the background providing the added ambiance.  Right now I'd settle for an absence of heavy earth-moving equipment.  All in good time, I'm sure. 

Y'all hang in there, spring's a comin! 

Angela

Queen of Denial at T-time

Isn't this the cutest thing?!

Believe it or not, I MADE IT!  No, seriously -- I did.  All by myself. 

MawMaw Harrison would be so proud of me!  She was a legend of crochet.  She taught me a few stitches when I was about ten, back in the 70's, and I made a looooooong, thin white scarf.  With fringe.  That was the sum of my career in stitchery -- save one brief, sad attempt at learning to knit with Hope when she was home from college one summer -- until.......T-time 2011!!! 

T-time??  You know, the T-word.  That's what Hope calls taxes.  She squinches up her whole face when she says it. 

What on Earth do taxes have to do with crocheted baby beanies???

Well, it seems that I have this persistent pattern of approach-avoidance, or what I call my self-distraction mode.  It goes like this:  something BIG (usually something I don't want to do or think I can't do well -- ok, perfectly) is on the horizon.  I know it's coming, and I know what needs to be done.  I might procrastinate.  Or knowing how nerve-wracking the tail-end of procrastination can be, I might actually get started on the initial stages of the BIG something.  Then, shortly into it, I find something else that I really NEED to do, or really WANT to do, or ALWAYS meant to do, or would just LOVE to do....and I'm off! 

I was famous for this in grad school.  Big project due?  Hey!  I've just gotta read that thick novel that's been calling my name from the bedside table for months!  Final Case Summaries need to be finalized?  Omigosh!  Look at all these winter clothes that really have to be sorted, sized, shipped, stored, or donated TODAY, quick, before something happens to them!  And I'm gone in a cloud of dust....

Same thing happend Saturday.  After my standing Saturday morning meeting with my "breakfast club" pals, Dewey and the kids leave for the LSU basketball game around noon.  I'm determined to start the taxes in January this year.  CPAs strongly encourage this. They'll also send you a bill for filing your extension in April.  The best ones don't even roll their eyes. 

My mom and dad call asking me to meet them for coffee about ten minutes later.  Hey, they're only in town on Saturdays about once a month.  What are you going to do, decline beignets and cafe au lait with your parents?? 

Couple hours later, I've managed to completely cover the dining room table with stacks of tax paperwork before Dewey and the kids return.  Remember, I'm self-employed -- folks whose taxes are withheld from their paycheck simply cannot appreciate the depth and breadth of printed paper necessary to settle up with the IRS annually.  All for the quarterly privilege of paying an extra 15% called "self-employment tax."  How special. 

First snag, mid-afternoon: June and July bank statements missing from all three of our checking accounts.  Weren't those with the mortgage application?  You know, for the house we planned to buy in August?  The one that fell through -- twice?  Thought that was in this file.....no luck.  (sigh)

Might be time for a break......hmmmm......wish I knew how to make a rag rug for the keeping room; the tile floor gets cold, and I hate the color.....cool website......WHOOSH! 

Next thing I know I'm halfway through an Adriana Trigiani novel and I'm watching YouTube videos on how to start a "magic circle" for crocheted flowers. 

This might be a new record. 

So now it's Thursday.  I've got skeins of cotton yarn in several colors, I can whip out the sweetest crocheted leaves -- who knew?? -- AND I've tried a new recipe for potato leek soup  (yum!)  that we had to eat at the bar in the kitchen.   The dining room table isn't available.

The taxes? 

Hey, it's still January, and I have a plan:  I'm going to see if Dewey can figure out how to print copies of bank statements from 2010 from his online banking program. 

Thank goodness we're both off tomorrow.  He's going to take my car for an oil change first thing in the morning, while I get back to the taxes.  Oh, yeah, and I'm going to meet my Great Aunt Yvonne at Applebee's for lunch.  She is just grand!  We've been trying to do this since last January when an ice storm nixed our plans-- no kidding! 

POOF! 

Million Dollar Picture, Million Dollar Baby

Twenty years ago today, I would have signed a note for one million dollars to have this picture.  You see, twenty years ago today, the young man in this picture sitting next to the girl he loves, was born via emergency C-section, weighing only one pound, fifteen and one-half ounces, and measuring barely 13 inches long.  His daddy's wedding band went up his arm, all the way to his shoulder.  He didn't have a smidgen of fat anywhere on his little skinned-rat looking body, but he was a bright pink color with the same jawline and blonde peach fuzz that his older sister had.  After scrubbing in and gowning up, we could stand beside his warmer, watching the machines monitor his vital signs, but we couldn't touch him, and I couldn't speak because he'd stop breathing in an effort to listen to my voice. 

Drew really was our "Million Dollar Baby," and I was terrified.  Terrified of losing him, terrified of all the things that could go wrong, terrified of how to take care of such a fragile little person, terrified of what the future might hold for us all.  I have no doubt I would have bargained with the devil for a 5-minute glimpse into the future just to know what was ahead.  And what a waste that would have been!  The scared girl who had just lost a lot of blood delivering the tiniest baby in the NICU didn't have much faith in the benevolent source of Love and Strength in the Universe that I have come to know and trust and lovingly call the God of my understanding.  So the glimpse I wanted so desperately that day wouldn't have satisfied me; the fear that gripped me was the strongest force in my life then, and it was insatiable. 

How grateful I am to be a different person, in a different place, twenty years down the road!  And how grateful I am for this tiny son who has grown to be an honorable man, and who has in so many ways been an instrument of bringing me to the faith and serenity I enjoy today. 

Yes, there are some days when I could wring his hairy little neck! 

And yes, he can sweet-talk me with that mega-watt smile the way no one else can. 

Such is a mother's plight.  Still, I like to think that our auspicious beginning on 1/18/1991 kept me grounded,  giving me perspective during the rough patches and appreciation for the little joys along the way. 

Happy, Happy Birthday, my Drew-Boy!  May your life continue to be one grand miracle after another, may you keep that tenacious spirit, that joie de vivre, that quick wit and easy laugh, and may you be granted many years filled with much love to touch the lives of others the way you have touched mine. 

Love,

Momma

Southern Friends

This is my friend, Sally.  She's a true Southern Friend, as defined below.  And the amazing part is, she's only Southern by choice, yet she's the epitome of a Southern Lady.  Sally was a "Navy brat" who grew up, quite literally, all over the world!  I am so grateful that God planted her at LSU for the first part of her college career so I could find her!  I've just been following her around ever since.  In the 30 years since I've known her, she's lived in Louisiana, Wisconsin, South Carolina, Iowa, and Kentucky, and I am proud to say, I've tracked her down in all of those places!  Also, we've "visited" (see below) in the states of Indiana, Georgia, Alabama, New Jersey, Illinois, California, Tennessee, AND North Carolina over the years.  Good Lord willing, we're planning to hike the Grand Canyon together one day soon!  (We're bringing the husbands along, too; somebody's gotta carry the gear!) 

Friends:
  Never ask for food.

Southern Friends:
  Always bring the food -- lots of it.

Friends:
  Will say "hello."

Southern Friends:
  Will give you a big hug and a kiss.

Friends:
  Call your parents Mr. And Mrs.

Southern Friends:
  Call your parents Mom and Dad.

Friends:
  Have never seen you cry.

Southern Friends:
  Cry with you ... And for you.

Friends:
  Will eat dinner at your place and leave.

Southern Friends:
  Will spend hours there, talking, laughing, "visiting," and just being together...then do the dishes.

Friends:
  Know a few things about you.

Southern Friends:
  Could write a book with direct quotes from you. And most of the time know you better than  you do yourself. *
*This one really rang true for me over New Year's when we were visiting at Sally and Alan's in Kentucky. 

Friends:
  Will leave you behind if that's what the crowd is doing.

Southern Friends:
  Will kick the whole crowds' back-ends that left you. Then walk beside you in the front of the crowd.

Friends:
  Knock on your door.

Southern Friends:
  Walk right in and say, "Are you home?" If you are not home, they will wait.

Friends:
  Are "For Now".

Southern Friends:
  Are for life.

My friend Sally is one of the grandest gifts I've been given.  I am grateful for the blessing that she has been in my life! 

Y'all, if your best friend lives nearby, go right now and hug her neck!  I'd do that if I could.  ;-)  Love you, Sal! 

Angela

1/11/11

Another "cool" date!  And ten days since my last post....this is not as easy as Sally and Margaret made it look....surprise!  I'm not going to throw in the towel....yet...but I don't know many folks who'll stick with me at this pace....oh, well....let's try a picture....

These socks are the "grandest" part of 2011 so far.  They were handmade especially for me by Sally, my dearest friend from our salad days at LSU.  They are the softest socks in the world, they're colorful and cheerful, and they fit perfectly.  I put them on in the car on our way home from Kentucky on 1/1/11 and I felt so loved!  They're keeping my toes warm on these cold nights (mid-20's!  rare for us in the deep south) and reminding me how grand it is to have talented friends (especially those who don't mind when you invite yourselves to their new home!)  Y'all stay warm! 
Angela

1/1/11

How's that for a cool date?! Life is sure to be grand in a year that starts off with a bang like 1/1/11. I'm looking forward to posting the grand -- and not-so-grand -- aspects of 2011. Sally loaned me her copy of Blogging for Dummies (assuring me I was not a dummy as she did so; thanks, Sal) but I'm sure there will be a learning curve involved. So I'll apologize in advance to those I'll bore to tears, and say to the real troopers who hang with me: "Y'all make life grand!"
Woo hoo! 2011, here we go!