This Old House

April 24, 2010 · Filed under & random things., stayed home.

I am a very private person by nature.  Privacy and blogging don’t necessarily go hand in hand.  Most bloggers have no problem posting photos, personal details.  Me?  I keep things shrouded in mystery to the point that often I don’t post because I may reveal more than I am comfortable with.  Or perhaps what I’ve got going on is so mundane to me that I don’t see how sharing it will much matter in the life of my readers.

My girl over at Tickled Red got me blogging.  She is much freer in her approach.  And I admire that even though I cannot emulate it myself.

As I revealed a few weeks back, we are in the process of selling our house.  It has been a home to us for more than a decade.  We’ve shed a lot of blood, sweat, and tears here.  It’s where my babies learned to walk.  One was born here.  But we’ve known in our hearts for some time that it is time to move on, that this home has served our purpose well and it is now time to serve another family.

I’ve prayed that the right family be brought to us.  That may sound strange for someone who just wants to sell their house.  But it is important to me that it be appreciated.  The house is old – built in 1947.  We had blinders on when we bought it.  It was a sad, neglected and lonely place when we moved in.  It had been foreclosed on twice, converted to a duplex and back again.  We were stupid and didn’t have any inspections.  To say we were caught off guard by all the work needed would be a gross understatement.   We were flat broke with a newborn and another on the way.  So we worked on it a little at the time and slowly it recovered.  Now it is a beautiful home in an incredibly serene setting. 

While I am a little weepy as I prepare to leave, I am quite happy with the family that is moving in.  We bought this home to raise a family.  They are buying to be closer to their children during the end of their lives.  I know that their grandchildren will run through the yard playing the same games our kids do.  I know that laughter and love will be here.  And that makes me happy.

I’m going out on a limb here.  Over the next month or so I’ll be posting some of my favorite things about this place.  This is venturing into the private territory for me.  I guess it’s a sort of therapy.  And a way to honor the place that has sheltered me for the past 12 years… a place that helped me grow and taught me patience.

 

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Bake Sale – be there, be full, be happy!

April 16, 2010 · Filed under Uncategorized

My girl over at Tickled Red rocks!  She volunteered to coordinate a bake sale in conjunction with the Share Our Strength’s Great American Bake Sale.  Note that’s a NATIONAL bake sale.  Well how in the heck do you hold a nationwide bake sale?  No idea, I left that for her to figure out.  She deals with event organizing all the time.  I can barely coordinate daily collection of eggs from six hens. 

It’s 11:00 the night before and I’m just getting started.  I procrastinate.  It’s a problem but we can discuss it another day.  Thankfully she’s only counting on me for a little light baking and actually showing up at the venue.  She knows me too well.  Meanwhile she’s gone and baked a gazillion different treats – the gourmet cheesecake kind – and enlisted other good cooks to take up my slack.  

We’d love for you to stop by tomorrow.  You can find us bright and early at Wrightsville Beach in front of King Neptune Restaurant until about lunch time.  If you’re watching your weight and would rather make a donation you can do that here – Tarheel Girls –  (note that the venue info may not be correct at that website, as our location recently changed.)

Now I have to go preheat my oven.  And pick out something not-black to wear for tomorrow.

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Sorry it’s been a while.

April 5, 2010 · Filed under Uncategorized

Hi y’all.  I hope things are greening up nicely in your neck of the woods.   So sorry it’s been a while since I’ve posted.  Life has been crazy the last few weeks…in a mostly good way! 

It is absolutely beautiful here.  We’ve been working in our gardens – The Husband and big kids have had dominion over the vegetable garden.  Collards, cabbage, rutebega, radish, peas, turnip & potato.  I’ve been left to my flowers and herbs.  The little one just follows the dog, cats & chickens around.  She doesn’t like to get her hands dirty.

Our family has been on somewhat of a roller coaster over the past year.  Some of you have been along for the ride.  Well it’s still rolling but at least we’re at a little lull from the loopdy-loop parts.  With amusement rides, you never can tell exactly when the creepy operator will end your turn.  Sometimes they’ll fool you and slow down only to speed back up, maybe put you in reverse – or perhaps spin you faster to see if they can make you sick.  I’m hoping this particular attraction will soon have an abrupt and sudden stop.  Until then, I’ll continue to keep my seatbelt on and my hands inside the ride at all times.

And, for some BIG news…It looks like our plan of having a real life working homestead is getting into motion. We’ve had setbacks, shed a few tears, maybe thrown a hissy fit or two.  But overall we’ve maintained faith that the Divine has a plan for us and that our path will be revealed if we can just shut up and be patient.  I find both – shutting up and being patient – difficult.

Hope is often hard to maintain when results are not tangible inside our self-imposed timeframe.  Sometimes I prop up The Husband.  Sometimes he has to jolt me back from the brink of insanity.  But we have each other and we have a goal.  Fortunately it is a common goal and our kids are on board too!  We want to move.  We want more land.  We want to grow our own food, milk goats, harvest our own meat, make soap & cheese.  Yeah, we’re those kind of people.  The weird brown bread sandwich, granola eating freakos.  It takes all kinds, right?

My daddy says he didn’t raise me to be that way.  Which is true.  He didn’t.  The Husband wasn’t raised that way either.  It is definitely a lifestyle that we’ve chosen.  But it works for us and we are thrilled at the prospect that the next chapter is beginning.

I’ve got butterflies.  And that little feeling you’d get as a kid with a fresh box of crayons and brand new tablet of paper.  Like anything is possible if you just believe hard enough.  Remember – Faith can move mountains.  But turning your back on the will of the Divine will eventually put you in the belly of a whale.  And that is a stinky place.

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My Mid-March Tradition

March 17, 2010 · Filed under Uncategorized

I’ve planned this day since the beginning of January.  I spent hours scouring the internet for traditional Irish recipes – Determined that we would have an authentic, homemade corned beef dinner.  One that I corned myself.  A carefully selected brisket and lovingly prepared brine.  Waiting weeks for the process to perfect.  Soda bread, root vegetables and cabbage.
 
And in my own long-established tradition, as I prepare our evening meal – the tempting aromas wafting from the heart of our home – I take much comfort in the fact that I never actually shared this dream with anyone else.  Because we’re having chili.
 
Keep smiling and have a fun day!

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What I’ve been up to…

March 16, 2010 · Filed under Uncategorized

Pretty much nothing.  I’m kind of in a rut.  I’ve been pondering pioneer life while doing all sorts of non-pioneer things.  Like using electricity.  And silently hurling obscenities at my once wonderful bread machine.  Atrocious, un-ladylike, made-up words because it won’t knead properly.  I’ve also been thumbing my nose at state regulations while practicing cosmetology without a license – TWICE in one week!  Once doing my baby sister’s (the hair dresser) roots (let me just say it was quite gratifying to see how much more gray she has).  Later plucking my mama’s chin.  That left me a little horrified and praying I didn’t get the chin hair gene.  I’m an excellent chin-plucker when given the proper tools.  However those that know me personally are scoffing aloud as I am in no way qualified to do hair.  I don’t even get my own hair “done”.  And I’ve had my hair tinted only once in my life.  It did not turn out well.  Not well at all. 
 
I’ll spare the full story as The Husband would just veto its publication.  I’ll just give you the basic ingredients and let you fill in the blanks.
 
1. A really cute college-aged me.
2. A bottle of hair color.
3. The Husband (pre-husband status but fully licensed to apply said hair color).
4. Lots of smooching.
5. A little less attention to the critical passage of time. 
 
I sent him purple daisies the following day.  The card read: 
 
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Do this to my hair again
And your eye will be too.
 
Sadly I had bangs at the time and they were most affected.  Which was a mixed blessing – it didn’t take too terribly long to grow out but the shocking purple hue was front and center for all to see. 
 
Now I do nothing to my hair, and I mean NOT A THING.  Despite having four immediate relatives that are licensed to cut hair all the live long day, I only go in about once a quarter.  And only if the moon is growing.  I’m just one of those long-haired weirdo hippie freaks.  I don’t know why.  It’s just me.  I know it bugs three of them.  But the fourth one loves me just the way I am.  So it’s all good.

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Chatty Me Time

March 1, 2010 · Filed under & random things., has issues. · Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Saturday I woke with a mission. A mission to act like a normal, average, everyday person.  Not be the freak I am that is compelled to share my homebirth story with complete strangers. Not speak of politics or religion. Not talk too much.

I woke relatively early.  Showered, filed my nails, put on mascara.  Things were starting off OK.  I looked in the closet and pondered what I’d wear.  Figuring it would be black because 99% of my wardrobe is, I made a mental note to add a little color soon.  I worried the girl was gonna think me a witch.  And a pudgy one too as I couldn’t locate my spanx.  Then I added a little more mascara, my secret ego booster.  I was nervous. 

See I was going on a blind date of sorts.  My very good friend met a fellow blogger online and invited me along on their introductory lunch date.  This was big.  Not only because I was meeting someone new whose impression of me was completely untainted by, well, me…but I also wouldn’t so much as have to think of a poopy diaper for a whole afternoon.

 I don’t get out a lot.  I don’t get much me time either.

 I had the time wrong and was blessed with an hour to kill before our lunch.  I hit up the Goodwill for a little shopping and didn’t even check out the kids department.  This day was all about me.  Sixteen dollars, a dress, a skirt, and a magenta jacket later, I headed to my destination.

I arrived a few minutes early and parked in a shady spot.  RED called and said she was running late.  She told me I should go on in.  “OK, ummm, No.  I don’t do the whole meeting new people on my own thing well – at all.”  Besides it was only five ‘til and I still needed to replace a missing button on my shirt.  Wouldn’t want to make a bad impression.

I finished the mending and decided to be brave and head in.  The whole time I’m channeling Stuart Smalley and telling myself “You’re good enough, you’re smart enough and doggone it people like you! Don’t talk too much and you’ll seem normal.” 

I met Kate out front.  We recognized each other because we’re both redheads.  That was easy.  Inwardly I was admiring her earrings and boldness for wearing bright colors.  But my mouth is all “Hey, so sorry that I’m a few minutes late.  I was in the parking lot sewing a button on my shirt sleeve.”  Dang, why do I do this?  Then I started to obsess about if I’d remembered deodorant or if something could be hanging out of my nose.

We went in and found a table.  RED breezed in 10 minutes later.  After I’ve already made the new girl question my sanity and her voluntary agreement to meet us.  And I just kept talking.  The waitress was getting annoyed that I couldn’t shut up long enough to decide what to order.  After her third visit I just asked for a chef salad. 

For the next 3 hours and 40 minutes I sent telepathic messages across to the table to RED.  “PLEASE, please for the love of all that is good and wholesome, go find me some Pepto-Moutho!”  RED was obviously not getting my vibes because she just kept bringing up bygones that caused me to chime in even more. 

The waitress quit refilling our tea sometime during hour number two.  We only took the hint and decided to move our little party to a nearby coffee shop after they flickered the overhead lights – as we approached the end of hour four.

When all was said and done I had spilled my guts about every minute detail about my life.  But I had an absolute ball.  It was a refreshing time with interesting grownups that were gracious enough to include me in their outing.  I hope that I didn’t scare Kate.  Her daddy told her to be careful because we might secretly be ax murderers.  I don’t even want to know what she reported back to him.

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Get the door. It’s Domino’s?

February 22, 2010 · Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged , , , , ,

I’ve got to be up front with you.  There’s something I need to get off my chest.  An inner voice says some things should just stay in the closet.  Then another chimes in that I should spill it.  Afterall, you deserve to know what a freak I am was.  Over the next few weeks I’m going to work on lightening the karmic load by making amends.  Not to my loved ones that are most deserving.  That would be too easy.  Nope, this shedding of guilt is strictly targeted at a few strangers that I encountered over the years.    You’ve probably already read about the skinny dipping incident.  Next up is Domino’s Pizza. 

Now let’s think back to a simpler time.  A time before Al Gore gave us the internet.  Before cell phones and caller ID.  Before the advent of Prozac and stalker laws.  You remember, the glorious days of big hair and tight rolled, acid-washed jeans.  Back then I ran around with a couple of girls that we’ll call Michelle & Priscilla.  We’ve known each other since kindergarten, we grew up together, went to school together, and pretty much did everything together.  But the thread that bound us most tightly was Neurotic Girlfriend Syndrome.  Today the affliction can be controlled with medication.  But back then you just had to tough it out. 

The cause remains a mystery but it is commonly believed that the condition is exacerbated by junk food, lack of sleep, and jilted-girlfriend songs. And the condition could easily escalate to a dreaded case of Psycho-Ex-Girlfriend-From-Hell Disorder.  We had Alanis Morissette egging us on.  By the grace of God, the world had not yet been blessed with Carrie Underwood.  A recording of “Before He Cheats” would have sent us completely over the edge.  After her passionate tirade, a mere whiff of Polo could have  pushed any of us into taking a Louisville Slugger to the front end of a Camero.  And I was there when a certain someone carved her own name into an ex’s kitchen cabinet.  But I’m rambling now…let’s get back to it. 

We were in our mid-to-late teens.  Old enough to drive and with way too much time on our hands.  We either had boyfriends or boys that we assumed to be our boyfriends.  Occasionally those boys may leave a scrap of paper lying about.  The kind with 7 digits and no name.  Together the girlfriends would huddle.  “Does this look like a girl’s handwriting?”  “What do you think?”  “Maybe it’s just a guy he works with?”  Of course your teenaged best friend is never going to point you in the direction of reason.  She is positive that your man is two-timing!  She has not a shred of proof.  Only her super psychic best friend powers.  But she’s a real friend and will make it her life’s mission to help you track down the floozy and get to the bottom of this scandal! 

I think the idea first resonated with Michelle.  Maybe she saw it in Lifetime Network movie of the week.  It was golden and we loved her for it.  A clever little accessory for our investigative handbag.  Domino’s Detective Identification Service – find a number and order a pizza.  Seriously.  It’s so easy it boggles the mind.  You see before modern technology killed it for us psycho-ex-girlfriends-to-be, a quick call to Domino’s went a little something like this… 

Them:  “Domino’s Pizza.  Can I help you?” 

Us:  “Why yes, My number is 555-6666 and I’d like a large pizza with extra cheese.” 

Them:  “Yes mam, Mrs. Hungry Lady.  We’ll get that right over to 123 Happy Family Lane.” 

Us:  “Thanks so much!  See you in thirty.  Can’t wait!” 

Brilliant!  We had a name & address.  And you can trust that in 30 minutes or less somebody else had a piping hot pizza at their doorstep with an anxious driver ready to get paid.  What’s that?  Were we successful?  Well no, I don’t recall ever actually catching anyone two-timing.  But we dang sure tried.  And it kept us busy and out of trouble.  You know the old saying about idle time being the devil’s workshop.  

Time marched on and technology advanced.  To put it plainly, Caller ID ruined it for us.  But we have far superior stalking tools now.  Thank you, Al Gore!  And I’m sorry, Mr. Domino’s man.  I didn’t really mean to cause you so much grief.  I’m sorry we used you so carelessly.  For failing to recognize your need to feel appreciated for your invaluable service of fresh pizza in 30 minutes or less.  As a grownup and the designated cook at our house, I now understand just what a feat that is. 

So there, I feel a little better already.  And a little hungry too.  My childhood peeps and I still get together for a good pizza now and again.  This recipe is my adaptation of a Pampered Chef appetizer.  It is NOT a 30 minute or less meal.  So plan in advance as it is vitally important that you THAW & drain that spinach.  (So very sorry about that, Shari!)  

Here’s what you’ll need and do: 

prepared pizza crust 

1/3 cup mayonnaise
1/3 cup sour cream
1 package (10 ounces) frozen chopped spinach, thawed and well-drained
1 can (14 ounces) artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
1 can (8 ounces) sliced water chestnuts, drained and chopped 

4 ounces crumbled feta cheese (I like tomato basil, but what evs)
1 garlic clove, minced

1 small to medium red onion, sliced very thin
1 cup shredded mozzarella

Combine mayonnaise & sour cream in a large bowl.  Drain spinach and squeeze out as much moisture as possible.  Drain & chop your artichokes and water chestnuts.  Add spinach, artichokes, water chestnuts, feta cheese and garlic mix well.

Rub about 1 tablespoon olive oil on your pizza crust.  Spread spinach mixture evenly.  Top with onion slices.  Sprinkle with mozzarella. Bake as your packaged crust directs.  (10-12 minutes or until heated through) 

Enjoy!

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Five days of food.

February 19, 2010 · Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged , , , ,

We got an early jump on Fat Tuesday and actually started our fat-fest last week. 
 
Friday, while the snow came down I stayed busy in the kitchen.  I wanted cookies.  So I whipped up two flourless recipes that I found online.  One chocolate & walnut.  The other peanut butter.  Both good, very good.  Try them sometime when your low on flour or find yourself gluten intolerant.
 
The Husband and I sometimes celebrate our anniversary watching movies with an antipasti platter and fruit fondue.  One time we passed the evening on the sofa in our bathrobes – gorging ourselves on stuffed olives, smoked Gouda, Genoa salami – while wearing exfoliating facial mask and using a paraffin mani/pedi spa.  He’s going to put up a fuss and deny it.  But it’s true.
 
But this year we kept things simple.  On Saturday, we arranged our annual festival of food on the living room table and watched Animal Farm with the big kids.  No, not a cute and modern family flick.  The original.  My middle child, the horse lover, was not happy to find out what happens to old horses.  She’s sworn off glue forever.  She has principles.  However she had no problem eating pepperoni throughout the film.  But then again, it was all the pigs’ fault anyway.  Serves ’em right.
 
Sunday we visited friends and had grilled venison, boiled shrimp and collards.  Southern delight!
 
Our fat parade peaked on Monday night with a divine chocolate layer cake from my sister.  She didn’t make it, though she tried convincing The Husband otherwise.  No, it was made by her client that happens to be one of my readers.  And it was…FAB-U-LOUS!!!  So fabulous that we ate about two-thirds and then I packed a piece with his lunch because I love him so.  And because I knew there would be none left when he arrived home from work the next day.  Cake is good for breakfast.  Especially Sam’s vanilla spelt cake with bittersweet orange filling and chocolate ganache!  This photo does not do it justice. 
 
And on Fat Tuesday we tapered off with breakfast for dinner.  I had to balance out the cake for breakfast thing somehow.  Buckwheat pancakes, bacon, cheese grits and homegrown eggs overeasy.  Yum, yum.
 
Sorry if you’ve given up a favorite food for Lent.  This might not have been the best time for me to share this piece of randomness.  But maybe you just gave up flour.  If so, the cookies noted at the top are fair game.  Here’s what you do…
 
Peanut Butter Cookies
 
Mix:
1 cup peanut butter
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 beaten egg
 
Keep mixing until smooth.  Roll into small balls – about a tablespoon each.  Set on greased baking sheet.  If you’re super fancy you can line the sheet with parchment paper first.  I’m not fancy.  Press with fork to make them pretty and flat.  Bake at 350 F for about 8 minutes.  Careful not to leave them too long or they’ll be too crisp.  If they do go to the crispy side, you can salvage them by using them as a crushed topping on butter pecan ice cream.  Maybe a little chocolate syrup too.  A sliced banana?  Can I get an “amen”?
 
Chocolate Cookies
 
Mix:
2 1/4 cups confectioner’s sugar
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 cup cocoa powder
1/4 cup walnuts
1/4 cup flaked coconut
add:
3 large egg whites
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
 
This mixture should be a little runny – not thick like regular cookie recipes.  Add something if it looks too thick – improvise.  I used a little leftover coffee but you could try another egg white.
 
Preheat your oven to 350 F and grease 2 baking sheets.  Drop cookies onto baking sheets so that they make about a 1 1/2 inch round.  They’ll spread so give them room to grow.  Bake about 8 minutes.  Remove from oven and let cool on pan.  They’ll be shiny and a little crackly on top. 
 
I’m going to try a little mint extract next time.  I haven’t had a GirlScout thin mint since 1998.  Yet somehow the world continues to turn.
 

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The Husband

February 18, 2010 · Filed under & random things., went to market. · Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Long ago I met the love of my life.  Only I didn’t know he was.  Our first formal meeting was purely chance.  And while there was a definite spark, it was hardly the spark of love.  More like a mildly volatile conversation tinged with sarcasm on his part and a little disdain on mine.
 
Little did we know that the stars had much more planned for us.  Time went by and fate led us to meet again.  This time things went a little smoother.  We became friends and eventually were inseparable.  I knew I’d marry him after our first real date.  And we did…after a rather lengthy courtship.
 
One cold January afternoon he figured he’d kill a little time after getting his truck stuck in the mud.  I was along for the ride.  We were way back in the woods waiting for a tow out and he thought then was as good a time as any to propose marriage.  He must have already thought it through because there was a ring in his pocket.  So standing in the bed of a red and grey Ford we decided to make our life together.  And soon after…we broke up.  But wait, we were on again.  Dating.  No marriage talk.  And then a couple years later, we did it.  We set a date.  One so close that we couldn’t possibly back out. 
 
Lots of people thought it wouldn’t last.  But no one verbally objected.  Well, no one except for an ex of mine who thought he’d try to win me back a couple weeks shy of the wedding.  The dude that dumped me years earlier for a girl that would travel on his Grateful Dead pilgrimage.  Seriously.  He gave up my super psychotic wonderfulness for another chic that was psychotic and psychedelic.  No can do.  I mean you’re a nice guy and really funny.  But I’m taller than you when I wear heels.  And I’m in love with someone else.  So, no.  I don’t think that will really work out.  Thanks though.
 
Instead I made my life with a guy that loves old dogs and wool.  My how that man loves wool.  My guy that looks like the Brawny Man.  Not the new metrosexual imposter either.  The real Brawny Man with sandy hair, mustache and flannel shirt.  My man that is happiest when given a task that requires a chainsaw, fire, and four-wheel drive. 
 
 
We married St. Valentines weekend of 1997.  (Not because we are romantic dweebs.  It was the only available weekend before his birthday. Guys that propose marriage in mudholes don’t purposely marry on V-day.)  The angels sang and the world rejoiced.  My mama breathed a long sigh of relief.
 
Thirteen years and a passel of children later, we’re as happy as the day we wed.  Insanely happy and weird.  We love each other more than the world over and that is enough.  We don’t do anniversary cards or token gifts like most couples.  I despise store-bought cards and ask that he not spend money on such.  I’d rather splurge on Starbucks than spend $4 on a sappy, flowery card printed with someone else’s words.  I’d prefer a seed packet to a dozen roses.  We’re plain and simple.  Not like the Amish.  I like fancy buttons and zippers too much.  And sometimes I wear mascara.  But in general I don’t desire material things.  Which is good for him.  Really takes the pressure off. 
 
A few years back – on the weekend of our 10th anniversary – we were in a store picking up some aromatherapy oils and herbs.  And we saw it.  Something we were both drawn to even though it didn’t fit our lifestyle or budget.  A glorious piece of silver dripping with amethyst and turquoise.  He asked that I try it on.  So I did.  And I inquired of the price.  Just about the time I latched the clasp, the sales girl blurted out a number that made me cringe and want to remove it immediately.  I didn’t even want to gaze at its loveliness in the mirror.  And out of the blue he quietly said “we’ll take it.”  The girl laughed because she thought it was a joke.  We’re that plain.  And it was that expensive.  But when she saw me blush and tear up she jumped to it and summoned the proprietor.  See this piece is so unbelievably fabulous the lady never really intended to sell it.  But she did because she likes us. 
 
Some would say it belongs with someone who will wear it fancy places.  But it doesn’t.  It belongs to me.  And I believe the artisan that crafted it made it just for me.  Just like my man.  The hand of the Divine made him just for me.  Me and no other. 
 
 
Better or worse. 
Richer or poorer. 
Sickness and health. 
I meant every word.
 
I love you for you.
You and no other.
Forever.

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a few snow pics

February 16, 2010 · Filed under stayed home. · Tagged ,

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