The Regency Ball

 For the last two months, our family has been preparing for a Regency ball planned by my friend and fellow Jane Austen lover. 

The whole Lyme Disease thing put a serious kink in costume sewing, but the children stepped up to the plate and learned some stitching skills since I couldn't. I should also add that I had two friends donate significant hours to help the kids with the sewing tasks. The last few days I was well enough to do some stitching myself. 

And the last few hours before we had to leave for the ball, I was hearing Mrs. Bennet's voice from my favorite Pride and Prejudice movie shrieking, "Make haste, make haste!" Even as we were driving, we were sewing buttons and hooks and eyes. The children went into the venue to help set up, and I sat in our van pinking seam allowances. 

In the end, the costumes weren't sewn perfectly, but I thought my crew looked quite handsome. And what's more, they had such a blast learning some challenging dances. Little has been talked about since the ball except for the ball. It seems our family wasn't the only one enthralled by the evening; plans are already being discussed for a winter ball. 

My crew

Tea for all! 

This was an occasion to wear his great-great grandfather's pocket watch and chain. 

The only down side for me was my eye. I did dance the first few dances, but then the eye on the paralyzed side of my face became too tired? dry? uncomfortable! to stay open. And since the muscle that closes the eye doesn't work and the muscle that opens it does work (always if I open the other eye), I spent the rest of the ball sitting down with my eye patch on and with my eyes closed. I was still able to hear the dancers' feet get the hang of each new dance as it was taught. That was a neat experience!

I call this my faux-Regency/pirate look. I swear that is really a smile.

Ugly Truth and Quick Cookies

Is it just me, or does it seem that the truth is hard to come by lately? With an election year in full swing and with all the COVID-19 and riot confusions, I just don’t know what to believe. Maybe you’re feeling as ill as I am from the honesty deficiency surrounding us. If so, I’ll try to help you out and give you a dose of the cold, the hard, and the ugly truth.

I hate the hot days of summer. I hate the heat. I detest the humidity. I love air conditioning. That’s the cold truth.

I can’t stand my garden looking wilted, but sometimes I am just too l lazy to water it. I complain about my tomatoes being too small, but it’s probably all my fault because I don’t fertilize enough. The poor crop of green beans, on the other hand, is entirely the fault of the bunnies. And the most prolific crop in my garden is the rocks; that’s the hard truth I was talking about. 

Wilted

I like bacon. I like bacon grease. And although my kids scold me for it all the time, I even lick the bacon grease off of the cookie sheet using my finger as a spoon. This is, most definitely, the ugly truth.

That’s not my only bad habit. I also enjoy kicking my socks off in bed. My husband scolds me when he finds several pairs of my socks under the sheets at the bottom of the bed.

Small tomatoes

While I’m being honest, I might as well tell you that sometimes I neglect my family in order to read a book I just can’t put down. Don’t misunderstand; the kids are fed and clothed and loved. But sometimes I do hide in the bathroom to read when I should be grading school papers or folding clothes. Or washing the bacon grease from the cookie sheets (with soap and water).

Snack for caterpillars

When I was a little kid, I stole a pistachio nut from an open basket in theproduce department at the A & P. I loved green pistachio pudding, but I’d never tried the nut. My mother was certain I wouldn’t like them and refused to buy any, so I slipped a single pistachio into the pocket of my jeans when she wasn’t looking. Later I closeted myself in my bedroom, took out the contraband, and felt so guilty that I didn’t even attempt to eat it. I don’t remember how I got rid of the evidence, but I do know that I didn’t try pistachios until I was an adult. To be completely honest, I still feel guilty about that.

So many rocks

And finally, because I have no desire to run for public office ever, I will come out and say it. I am a racist, but not in the way you might think. I am prejudiced in favor of the human race. Truthfully, I have been disappointed by people and their actions and words over the last several months, but I still love them. I can’t help it. I enjoy watching people, listening to people, and even complaining about people. I love big people, little people, ugly and pretty people, stupid and smart people. 

An entire garden full of rocks!

We are all so different, with different concerns and ideas and hopes and fears. But folks, we are being pitted against each other in this day and age; the media calls us maskers and anti-maskers, vaxxers and and anti-vaxxers, racists and anti-racists. How easy it is for us to forget the big truth— that we are (most of us) just people doing the best we can in a world full of controversy and confusion. 

And here’s my last truth: we need each other. I can’t think of anybody I know who hasn’t felt isolated in some way this year. Bridge that divide however you feel comfortable because we are, all of us, mired in this sometimes mucky life and need a connection to solid ground.

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I’ll never be a politician because I am a little too open and honest. But it is the political season, and the mud-slinging has commenced. It just so happens that one of my favorite cookies looks just like mud. The church cookbook from North Dakota that I use calls them Five Minute Cookies, but most people I know call them No Bake Cookies. I see them in convenience stores all the time, but the only reason I know why somebody wouldn’t make this simple recipe at home is that she doesn’t want to gain a few extra pounds by eating them all. Enjoy.

Five Minute Cookies

2 cups sugar

5 Tbsp. cocoa powder

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup butter (1 stick)

3 cups quick oats

1/2 cup peanut butter

1/2 tsp. vanilla

In a large pot, stir together the sugar, cocoa, milk, and butter over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil. Boil for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the peanut butter, oats, and vanilla. Drop by tablespoon onto waxed paper and allow to cool until set.

 *This column was printed in the April 1, 2020, issue of the Hancock News.

**I hope you enjoy all of the garden pictures that show just how ugly my garden can be. If you are like me and have weeds over-powering the food stuff, YOU ARE NOT ALONE! At least we tried.

Easter Past

My dad told me that it was national siblings day today (or yesterday), and folks on Facebook were posting pictures of themselves with their siblings. Since I don't do Facebook (except for my Etsy shop), I thought I'd post a picture here because I love my sisters. It's a bonus that my mother was in the picture, too.

Ta-da!

That's me, right there in front wearing the crocheted purple skirt and vest. My sisters are the ladylike-looking ones on either side. 

I'm fairly certain I was all dolled-up because it was Easter. I was blessed then to have two wonderful big sisters, and I am no less blessed now!

Out with the Old. . .

It is New Year's Day, and I'm already behind. I need to clear out some pictures from 2019 (which, by the way, was not my favorite year). First, I need to finish out the birthday cakes. For her 8th birthday, my dear daughter wanted me to make an elephant cake because elephants are her favorite. I've made this cake before (twice), and it's easy and fun.

Elephant cake with circus peanuts

Elephant cake with circus peanuts and Ellie the Elephant

As for Christmas baking, that didn't happen. Instead of singing Christmas carols this year, we took turns serenading each other with a chorus of coughing. We have been sick (in a staggered pattern) since December 11th or so. Instead of cookies and family get-togethers, we've had fevers and home remedies and doctor visits. In short, very little of our normal Christmas fun happened. 

However, a lovely lady from church gave us a pre-made gingerbread house kit. We pulled it out a couple of days ago and got to work on it.

See that large crack? I just don't think that bodes well, do you?

Notice how those windows and the door kind of look like a sad face?

I think it's because this gingerbread house had a premonition concerning its fate. Below you can see the serious effort going on to hold that house together. I think it collapsed maybe a minute after it was all "finished." 

We were not in top form (remember we have been sick and sleep-deprived) and failed to completely read the instructions.

See that part about waiting 15 minutes until icing is dry prior to decorating the house? We didn't do that. Oh, well. It still tasted fine. I guess the architectural collapse saved us the guilt of tearing it down.

Gratitude List 2019

I need an attitude adjustment. The holiday season begins this week, and instead of facing it with a pumpkin spice latte in one hand and a frosted sugar cookie in the other, I’m dreading the whole thing. You see, my mother passed away in September.

Those of you who have lost a mother will likely understand the difficulty of putting into words how I’ve felt since then. It’s an actual physical ache somewhere near my heart that only goes away fully with sleep. Who would have guessed that every last thing in the world reminds me of my mother and my loss and my sorrow?

But that’s not what Thanksgiving is about. Enter my old and neglected friend, my yearly gratitude list. Maybe a little gratitude can change my attitude. I’ll give it a try for 2019.

I’m grateful that my daughter thinks it is disgusting when people bite their toenails. That my son thinks technology is interesting and fun; you should see the the digital doohickeys he creates for my online shop. That another son attempts to keep me on track at the Friday night auctions so I don’t do something stupid like accidentally bid on rusty old c-clamps. 

I’m grateful for little boys who whisper big dreams of playing in the NFL before drifting off to sleep. I think I’m thankful that diaper days are over. And for my “baby” who at the age of four can do so many big-girl things on her own but who still wants me to help her sometimes. Being needed feels good.

I’m thankful when people apologize to those they hurt, even when the hurt was accidental. Sincere apologies do make a difference.

I’m grateful for Jane Austen’s novels that I binge-read this summer; if I had read them in junior high, I would’ve ditched New Kids on the Block for Mr. Darcy and Mr. Knightley. Also I’m grateful for my lovely oldest daughter who encourages me to watch movies based on Austen’s novels.

I’m grateful for my mother-in-law’s homemade tomato soup which she continues to make for others despite the fact that eating tomato products puts blisters in her mouth. For dark chocolate, for Earl Grey tea, for freshly ground coffee, and for any friend (or stranger) who supplies me with these indulgences.

I am thankful for emu oil and arch supports because arthritic feet are no fun.

The organist at our church has considerable skills; you should hear her play on Reformation Sunday! I’m thankful God gifted our congregation with her talents. And I’m thankful for my son’s beautiful singing voice; his strength of both voice and spirit lifted me up in some of my darkest hours.  Also for my youngest children who flock to me when I cry; how can concerned, loving little faces attached to hugging arms not bring joy?

For my sisters, I give thanks. Without them I’d feel so alone because only they understand my sadness completely. For Daddy who cared for my mother’s needs so well as her health failed. And for my mother because she taught us all how to love each other.

I’m thankful for the man who organizes all my messes, who entertains the children by playing video games when I need a nap, and who doesn’t flinch when I wipe my tears and my nose on his shirt. And babies! My niece is having one tomorrow, and I’m ecstatically thankful; every mourning family should have a new baby.

Mostly I’m thankful for a loving Father from whom all of these blessings flow. I sincerely wish for you all a happy Thanksgiving.

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My Thanksgiving rolls are rising!

That gratitude list was long overdue. This recipe is years overdue; it’s been hanging on my kitchen cupboard since the last time I wrote a newspaper column. My friend from church shared it with me, and it is a versatile one—suitable for any holiday get-together. 

Quick Fruit Dessert

1 cup butter or margarine

1 1/2 cups sugar

4 eggs

1 tsp. almond extract

2 cups all purpose flour

2 tsp. baking powder

1 can fruit filling

Cream together the butter and sugar. Add eggs and beat until light and fluffy. Mix in the almond extract. Next mix in the flour and baking powder.

Butter a 9 x 13 inch cake pan and pour or turn mixture into pan. Spoon in the pie filling in 6 to 16 spots on top of mixture. 

Bake at 350℉ for 30 to 35 minutes or when none of the flour mixture comes out when you insert a toothpick. You may top this dessert with powdered sugar.

Recipe note: You may use only 2 eggs if that’s all you have, and either homemade or store-bought fruit filling will work. You may also add more flour if the consistency seems off.

**This column was printed in the November 27, 2019, issue of the Hancock News.

He Was a Good Dog

Good-bye, Emu

On Saturday morning we met the emu's owner who brought the trailer that would (we hoped) return our emu to its friends.

So how would this emu be caught? Well, not easily, that's for sure. It was lured with food, but it did take a few go-arounds and some corralling. And struggling. And coordination. And strength. And patience.

Phew!

Predictably, the emu was not thrilled to be in the trailer. It tried to poke its head out the back to escape. It failed. My littlest one told me later that the emu was "saying goodbye with him head."

Then, ever-so-quickly, it was all over, and the emu farmer was saying goodbye with his hand.

And that brings us to the end of our little emu drama. There are no more installments. This story will not be continued.

Unless. . . 

 (I did tell you there were more emu sightings the next valley over, right?)

Emu- Up Closer and More Personal

My five-year-old woke me up on Friday morning with, "Mommy, the emu is still here!"

At a decent hour, I called the farmer and let him know the emu was back. I left a message, but he was in business meetings all day and couldn't get back to us until the afternoon. He was going to pick up a  friend's trailer to retrieve the emu, but he wouldn't be able to get to our house until Saturday morning.

Most of Friday the emu amused us with his antics. Once again, he disappeared in the later afternoon and came back in the evening. Once again, he was there in the morning. On Saturday morning early, Mr. Emu decided to hang out even closer to the house and even on our front walkway. He even strayed down near the cemetery again.

One thing we learned about emus when all was said and done was that emu feathers have one central quill (?) that has two floppy feathers attached. 

Tune in tomorrow for the final installment of our riveting emu drama!

To Be Continued. . .

What Happens When. . . Emu Vs. Guinea?

Next the emu began walking around our house in a counterclockwise direction. However, one of our three remaining guinea fowl began walking around the house in a clockwise direction. What happens when they meet?

Emu decides to investigate guinea.

Guinea decided it doesn't want to be investigated by a much larger bird.

Guinea makes haste to deliver himself.

In the end, the emu wasn't interested enough in the guinea to chase it too far, and the guinea wasn't scared enough of the emu to run too far. While we had fun when the "chase" got a little fast-paced, the entire episode was rather short-lived.

But this emu episode is not over!

To Be Continued. . .

P. S. While learning about the emu online, we learned that this week is considered National Emu Week. What a coincidence!

Emu-- Up Close and Personal

If you thought the first emu post was something else, read on, my friend, read on. 

You see, the emu wasn't content just hanging out in the cemetery. It decided it needed to pay us a visit.

Certainly you have figured out that by this time, excitement levels in our house were quite high. The phrase "bouncing off the walls" comes to mind.

At this time, while children were bubbling over with crazy,* I was making phone calls to the town office (although we live 5 miles from town), animal control, and an emu farm. For future reference, if an emu happens to wander into your yard, I found the emu farm to be most helpful. 

I learned that our emu friend was likely from the farm I called which is about 21 miles away; they had several escape last summer. Recently, between here and there, emu sightings have multiplied. However, we heard from another source that another emu farmer in another directions (but also many miles away) had some escapees, too.

Anyway, the emu farmer I talked to hit the road to come check things out at our house.

To be continued. . . 

*FULL DISCLOSURE-- I may also have been on the high energy spectrum, but cut me some slack: who has an emu just show up at their house?!

Really Big Distraction

So, do you remember my last post about distractions from our books and teachable moments and wonder and learning and all that?

Well.

I'm struggling with words for this post because. . . well. . .

Why don't you see for yourself?

Why, yes, that is an emu down in the church's cemetery!  Oh, did you think the emu was native to Australia? And don't we live in Maryland in the USA? 

If you were asking yourself those questions, don't think you're crazy. It is all true. Yet an emu was wandering about all the same!

To be continued. . . 

Week's End

I am forcing myself to blog before I get to work on the waffles the little one has been asking for so long. It seems that blogging and writing are things I merely desire to do, while providing for the children (food, clothing, education) is an obligation I can't ignore. It would be more frustrating for me if my obligations didn't bring me so much joy.

Anyway, here at the week's end I'm sharing a few random photos and thoughts.

First, have you ever experienced thunder in a snowstorm? This past Wednesday I was sitting at the table when there was a flash of light. My first thought was that the electricity was flickering and about to go out, so I told my eldest to hurry and fill a water pitcher. But that flicker was soon followed by a loud boom and rumble of thunder that shook the house! The lightning and thunder combo repeated three times, and each time felt so strange as I watched the snow fall outside.

Second, a week and a half ago, we had another snow and ice storm, and our power did go out. I was in the middle of making breakfast and had but one more omelette to make. Our cast iron griddle retains heat well, so I poured the eggs on and hoped for the best. 

As you can see by the pictures below, the best didn't happen, so we improvised with candles. Call it a science experiment. 

Blurry picture that captures the mood of the morning

Less blurry picture that captures our improvised stove

It took several adjustments beyond this to help cook these eggs. We added coasters under the candles to lift them closer to the griddle and added a couple more candles. I think the whole process took half an hour to produce some scrambled eggs.

And last, I have some pictures of a birthday cake from the vaults which I realized I hadn't shared. And you know how I love sharing my cake flops!

Magic hat on the outside. . . 

Total flop on the inside.

Almost two years ago, our eldest was really into learning to do magic tricks. So we made a magic hat cake. My idea was to make one of those cakes that had a surprise when you cut into it. I was going for cool circle shapes. I got a bunch of odd blobs that tasted weird from all the food coloring. You live and you learn, right?