Pie, oh heavenly pie!

You're gonna wish you could sniff your monitor when you read this post.

I love to bake. I started cooking and baking around ten. I remember my Grandma Gregson visiting up from Alberta one time when I was in eighth grade, and her giving me pie dough tips while I made a pie.

My grandpa Gregson, who I never met, was a baker when my dad was a child. I like to think I got this love from him. My dad loves baked goods, and like it or not - so do I. We are a family who on family night, got in the car, and drove to the bakery. (or other yummy establishments - and I wonder why I'm so Chub-a-rella?)

My dad would say, "What!? Where are we going. Oh no, the car is taking over. It's driving on it's own. It's driving to Baskin' Robbins" Or The Ranch Drive-in, or Hillcrest Bakery, or where ever there was something yummy to eat.

Being from Canada, there are always a few things my dad likes that not a lot of others do. Like Butter Tarts, Mincemeat pie, or Nanimo Bars. (I'll put some recipes of these up later - they're SOOO good. Except for Mincemeat pie. Woof) He also likes Rhubarb pie - as do I.

A lot.

So, for Memorial Day I got a special request for 'Rhubarb Pie and homemade Potato Salad.' (I'll post the potato salad recipe soon - even if you think you don't like potato salad, you'll love this one)

It's Rhubarb season here. But with only one plant each, my dad and I had to combine our 'harvest' to make our one pie. Aren't the leaves amazing? I think they're the most beautiful foliage.

Here's the dough recipe and some tips on baking. This is my favorite dough, but you have to be pretty exact or it's a bomb. Weird; I know.

2 1/2 cups flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp sugar

2 sticks of butter, cold and cut into small pieces

1/3 cup water

Combine the flour, salt and sugar in your food processor; mix. Put the pieces of butter in, mix for 10 seconds. (here is where you have to be exact! No more than 10 seconds.) It should look like corn meal. Now add the water, a little at a time, just barely mix - just enough to get wet. I usually use the whole amount of water. Now dump the mixture on the counter. It will be quite crumblie, it's okay. Start pressing it together - you should have enough water in there to, once you start shaping it, will stick together just fine. You should be able to butter chunks as well. (mmmmmm, butter chunks) Now divide the dough in half and make two flat circles out of it. (like 3/4 in. by 4 in.) You will be wrapping these in saran wrap and chilling in the fridge for an hour or so. Don't forget that they need to come back to near room temp to roll them out, so plan accordingly if you're on a schedule.

Roll out the pie dough with flour. Not too much, don't forget that the more you handle dough and the more flour you use, it will become tough and less flaky. (less flaky, like me-haha) Roll out both circles. Put one in the bottom of the pan and prick with a fork. (this prevents air bubbles) You can use the second as the top, or try a lattice top.


To do a lattice top, like the one above, roll out your dough and use a ruler and a pizza cutter to make one inch strips. (oh yeah, baby - it's too good not to taste!) Pinch the pieces one inch apart on one edge of the pie - once the filling is in, of course. Weave in the other pieces going the other way, over under over under. Clean up the edges by crimping with your thumb and fore finger pressed to into your other thumb.

I always put foil around my edges for the first half of the baking time. Just tear three small sheets and gently crunch them around. Take these off halfway through - careful, they're hot. (like me! - again, haha) You'll always get a perfect crust if you do this.

Can you smell it yet? Oh my. Someone help me. I've been on the wagon 11 days and my mouth is seriously watering just looking at the pictures. Imagine poor little me making this - and only enjoying the smells. Mmmm. It's okay. I know what pie tastes like, and thin takes better. Or so I hear; I've never actually experienced thin - but it sure looks good.

Whah-la!

Need I say more?

Lawn Mowin'

When my mom was a teenager, she said she used to mow the lawn in her bra and shorts. Thinking no one would know the difference. I always imagined her in those great 1950's cone-type bras, cat eye glasses and Ked-like tennis shoes, mowing away. And all the neighbors giggling as they drove by. I'm pretty sure they could tell the difference. It's a funny picture I see painted of my mother, though. Another reason I love her. She's been pushing limits and buttons for a long time now.

I mowed the lawn quite often as a teenager as well. With all of my clothes on, I might ad. My dad had a particular design he liked mowed. Like a spiral, only with the rectangular twist the shape of the lawn was laid out in. Start at the edges and mow to the center. He mowed lawns as a young boy, for a living. This was many years ago, a lot more work than now, and I know he made next to nothing as a little nine year old. (I know this, of course, because he started telling me about it when I started mowing - and complaining about doing the job).

Our lot was HUGE in those mossy green acres of Washington. The grass was vibrantly bright and more often than not, I'd find at least one small frog along my mowing travels. We didn't edge, or trim the yard. This is Washington for heavens sake! If your jungle is mowed, your house looks pristine. I'd never even seen an edger until I was 23 or 24. (seen used by a native Utahan, I might ad) But our yard looked lovely pushed directly against our seven acres of 200 foot trees. A blanket of lush green spread to the feet of sky touching evergreens.

Yesterday, I taught my Big One how to mow the lawn. He's not quite nine, but did a fantastic job. I wanted to teach him, because I am most particular about the mowing. I like two laps around the edge, then diagonal stripes right down the center. Directions of the stripes need to be changed each week, so you get a bit of an argyle pattern as it grows.

I watched him push that little self propelled beast around the yard. His face so proud. As he stepped over his big yellow tractor, now to small for him to ride, that his younger siblings enjoy, I saw the future so near it made me sad. He loved that yellow tractor. I bought it at a yard sale when he was Chubbles age. It has the scoop and dump features, and has been well loved.

Now he was operating a small noisy engine of his own. He doesn't have to make the sounds for himself. He turned each corner like a pro, maneuvered around the trees perfectly. If only teaching him to drive will be this easy.

I know it's silly. But it made me think how terribly soon my kids will be grown. These days seem to last forever. And then they're gone. We moved to Houston ten years ago. It seems like only a few. In that blink of an eye, Samuel will be on his way out the door and the others quickly behind.

He hugged and kissed me so many times while mowing that lawn yesterday. With each bag emptying or question he had. He's come to me, wrap his arms around me, and say, "I love you mom. I can't believe I'm mowing the lawn. And I'm doin' a pretty good job, if I do say so myself."

Then I'd rub his sweaty fuzzy head, kiss him back and praise his wonderful work.

I hope I get to see him teach his kids to mow the lawn. I'll tell them of their great grandparents, and their grandparents, and of the day I taught their dad. And how these small little lessons help us learn to work, gain independence, and take pride in ourselves and our home.

Just like I told their dad.

*picture from www.fairwaylawnskc.com/diy-mowing.html

End of Year

It's that time of year again. Those glorious last few days of school.

Glorious for mothers that is. Enjoying our last few sane moments. (just kidding. I LOVE my kids being home. for a while at least) This season of kids being up too late, too tired for school each morning, field trips, and end of year projects that also mean lot's of extras.

I have helped in my kids classrooms more in the last two weeks than I have all year. I love walking into their school and seeing their faces as I walk in. "Mom!" They're always SO excited to see me.

This will become another story in years to come.

One of hiding their faces and pretending not to know me.

Which I eagerly welcome! Oh yes. Pretend to not know me, and you will be very sorry:

*I can wear my too-tight work out clothes into your school. (heaven help us all)

*I could bring dad, and we could KISS! (eeek)

*I could bring baby photos, tell about bed wetting, and how terribly cute you were/are.

*I could drop you off in the car of your nightmares.

*Make you ride the bus to AND from school.

*Leave lipstick (if I ever wore it) on your cheek.

*Make you give me a kiss in front of your class.

Actually, I can't think of being embarrassed by my mom. (well, too much anyway) I've never really been that type. SO hopefully, my kids will be able to stand me as well. Just keep being happy to see me, and I won't have to make your life miserable.

Deal?

Neil Armstrong and some other guys

Recently my son’s class had a ‘wax museum.’ They were to choose a ‘hero’ they would like to read a biography about and then become that character for an hour last week while we visited their ‘wax museum.’ He chose Neil Armstrong. Although disappointed that his mother couldn’t find a spacesuit and helmet, he did a great job. He wore s white shirt, tie, sports coat, and this sweet ID badge I made for him. Going to church has some perks, you know. Built-in ‘8 year old business man attire.’ Nice.

On the way home I got to thinking. I know Neil, and Buzz. And I know there was a third that day, someone Collin, maybe? And I’m pretty sure there were several more at later times. But I think it’s funny that in true American fashion, I don’t know more than two names of people that have been to the moon. “Well, there’s that first guy, Neil. And his friend Buzz. And that’s pretty much it. Unless one blows up anymore, I pretty much ignore that fact that space travel even exists.” I can name you more than 15 kinds of candy bars. There is one chocolate (to speak of) and I know LOTS about that. But men who have flown into space and walked on the moon; just two. That’s all I can come up with.

Then I was saying to Peter, “Do you think they were arguing about who got to go out the door first.” He said, “No. It was already decided long before they go there.” But I enjoyed the next few scenes in my head…

I could just imagine them, in their big white space suits, going really slow, “No you don’t. I’m going first.” Smack. Swat. “No me!” Push. Wrestle. Wrestle. Grunt.

Or.

As Neil is heading out the door, Buzz yells, “look over there” and knocks him down as he runs slow motion out the door.

It was enjoyable and made me laugh out loud. You would too if you took a second to imagine the play by play in your head. Go ahead. Think of their 1960’s formality, the funny slow-mo stuff you’ve seen on TV, how we Neil Armstrong was there only seconds before the others. It’s like twins where one tells people he’s older…by 38 seconds. I see a little “I dream of Jeannie” – esque back home. These sophisticated, educated men, pushing each other out of the way. Trying to get out of that blasted door first!

I guess that’s why it was decided before they got there. Maybe that’s why men went and not women. We’d be going, “Mmm. Nope. You go first.” “No you.” Not to be nice, but because who knows what was out there. Make the other sucker try it first. We’ll see if she gets sucked off the face of the moon in sudden black vortex before I give it a try.

Aaaaand. This is why I don’t home school. Oh how our lesson of Neil Armstrong would digress.

But really. It’s totally amazing that men walked on the moon. That Space Shuttles orbit the earth ALL the time. It really is so common now, that we don’t pay attention. Hello!? S-P-A-C-E T-R-A-V-E-L. Pret-ty cool! Next time there’s a launch, if I can remember, I’m gonna watch.

Goo Berry Pie

If you don't know Roo in person, her Preschool Graduation photo memory will be a good spot to learn more.

'Oh, my. I'm so dainty.' (said in a snow white voice) 'Listen to me count.' (said in her best cookie monster vioce)

'Giggle. Giggle.'

No captions for this one. I know every mother thinks her daughter is the most beautiful thing in the world. But could you argue? Really? Of course you couldn't. It's when she bites the neighbor girl on the shoulder and draws blood that - suddenly - she's not so cute!

Waiting pateintly at 'graduation.' This is funny term, graduation. Since, really she doesn't officially start preschool until next year, this year was just 'social.' AND, she still has two years of preschool after this one. So really, let's not get ahead of ourselves. She's three and half, and not going to glorified, paid, play dates until next fall again. Let's call it what it is. Shall we?

'Head tilt.' Just like her aunt Minky. Ahhh. Looking at her 'year book.'

And that's The Goo. Pink, dainty, loud and in charge.

She only cried once before we left, and that was when she asked if Grandma and Grandpa where coming to 'my princess graduation.' (gotta love her) When we said they were with Uncle Geoff in Washington - she cried.

Let me count how many times she's cried since...Oh, I lost track at 485,901.

Sorry.

Spinklers

I fixed a broken sprinkler pipe last week, while the kids dug in the dirt next to me. I had to shoo them away a few times. You know, heavy fumes, power tools and the like. Nothing major. I also had to dig up and replace a broken head. Fun, fun. So, for your reading pleasure, here are a few tips:


Number ONE! Don't sniff the PVC glue. Whoa Nellie!


Use a dremmel, or a steak knife.




Don't bother with the 'tools' they say are for cutting. Junk!




Get all needed items BEFORE you begin.

Check for the exact size of the pieces needed, this way you only have to go to store once.

You're welcome.

You can thank me later.

Yes, all of the above were lessons learned. By me.

And now I can call myself a True Utahn; I can fix sprinklers. We're fully green and waistin' water. Ahhh. It's great to be a water pig.

In Washington you don't fix sprinklers.

You don't even have sprinklers.

Sprinklers are called RAIN, in Washington.

Lot's of Photos, A little less Talking

Friday started with making a cake for our cutest, and shortest, babysitter. (Seriously - Samuel is at least a head taller than her and he has to get the baby out of the crib for her when she babysits. (partly because he weighs almost as much as her) But She's fantastic and the kids love her.)

It was her 12th birthday and for many spur-of-the-moment/service sittings (ie, not paid); I made her a cake for her party. It was really cute. But surprisingly, I forgot to take a 'final.' So, here's the beginning. (if her mom ever sends the final photo, you'll get to see it - I know, quit holding your breath)


We get out at 12:30 on Friday's, so we like to make the best of it. Up to Bridal Veil for water fun.

The water was VERY cold. Apparently, snow run off is quite frigid. Hmmm.?

Slip-n-slide in the early evening. Love it.

I officially named 'the girls': Flora, Fauna and Merryweather. (these are the names of Sleeping Beauty's fairy godmothers, in case you didn't know)

Samuel has taken over the roll of Mother Hen. (perfect for him, as he is very nurturing) They love him, and he loves them. He lets them climb all over him, nest on his head, and huddle on his lap. Oh, yeah...and poop on him.

They even really like being on his head.

Silly's.

And in between all of these things, a trip to the Farmers Market, Shirley's bakery and fixing two sprinkler lines; I recovered my friends chair for her. Turned out nice, huh? They are moving to Alabama (eeeek!) to start their life in the Army. (four kids!) I had extra fabric and she's the nicest person on the planet - so, I was happy to help.

Can you tell she's been without a husband for two months with four kids, 1 to 8? She really is amazing.

It seems like I've been busy and haven't gotten anything done. But, looking back - I see it's been a busy couple of days.

And this doesn't include griding wheat, making bread, or making freezer jam...on the Sabbath!

Chubblie Cookie

Mmmmm. Cookies.

Mr. Handy

Wanna see something funny?

The Scout Master isn't the handiest guy - but he tries.

One recent evening, he cleaned the connections on his car battery.

Guess what happens when battery acid splatters on you?



These jeans have apparently been 'acid washed.'

I can't stop thinking about...

"I can't stop thinking about chicks..." This was is what my six year old said on his way out the door to shcool today. Let's hope I can hang on to that reference as 'chickens' for a few more years.

This is the story of chickens in my life. Then and now. Ahhh. Chickens.

Part One:


Once upon a time, I had chickens. Willamena, Henrietta, Bob, Bob, Bob and Speck, Speck and Speck. (all three Bobs were cute little yellow girls and the Specks were all black and white spotted. Since I couldn't tell them apart anyway - they all had the same names.)

My sister had one named "Bah-duck." She was really our family pet. (I'm pretty sure I've told about her before - the chicken, that is) If you say bah-duck real loud and fast, it sounds like the noise a chicken makes. Hence, the name. She was a fine chicken, very smart. She would peck on the glass doors to be let in, if a coyote happened to be in the back woods. She would sit on the mat, just inside the door, until the coast was clear. She was a friend to all. Sadly, pneumonia took her, one Northwest rainy, Sunday morning before church. (okay, my dad and brother in law 'took' her, if you know what I mean. She was suffering terribly and on a 'want to be farm' these are the things that happen.

Back to my flock...

I loved those little gals. Pecking around the yard, in and out of their make shift home – my old rabbit cages. And my two big red ladies where the best. They were plump Rhode Island Red’s, and very pleasant hens. They gave eggs a couple times a week in warmer weather, and never a set of nicer gals could be found.

Upon the demise of my small ones, I felt terribly sad. Two weeks in Hawaii meant they had to have a ‘sitter.’ Brandon didn’t mean to let a ferret get to them. These things happen though. And alas, they were a tasty, feathery snack for the little sneak. Oh, I was sad. Very sad. So sad that I didn’t want to be a ‘farmer’ anymore. I had to find a new home for Willamena and Henrietta. So, off to my good friend John’s house they went. Little did I know that once the girls stopped laying, meant ‘roast chicken for dinner’ at his house. He said they were very tasty. (*pout*)

Oh, my. Very sad.

Part Two:

But having chickens is a fond memory in my life. They are great pets, and they have a lot to offer in the area of learning about animals. (eggs and all…) So of course, I have been begging to get chickens since Peter and I married.

“Please can we get chickens. Please.”

“No,” says the Scout Master, “Where would we put them.”

Year after year, this is how the pleading pans out.

But this year. THIS YEAR…, he said yes. He finally agreed that it would be good for our kids.

What!? What !?

Hooray!

Fortunately, I know someone who is getting rid of four lovely laying ladies. Lucky me.

Don’t order yet folks…this gets better!

On Saturday, Minks called to ask what I want for mother’s day. (She’s a fine sister, I know.) Of course my reply is, “Chickens.”

“Okay, chickens it is.” She says.

I laughed.

And yesterday, just as I was husking the corn for dinner – guess what showed up in my living room?





Yep. Those are baby chicks. You’re right. They are ADORABLE. Aren’t they? A yellow one, an orange one and a speckled one. (they have official breed names, but you get the idea) She brought all the necessities to get us started and EVEN offered her husband to build me a coop out in our too-shady-to-grow-anything of a garden.

Yes. You can guess I was thrilled. And so were my own little flock of four. (my actual children, that is)

One likes to hold them,

one likes to pet them,

one likes to look and ‘babysit, but NO touching’ them,

and the last like to chase, grab and possibly sit on them.

They are a BIG hit at my house. Can you think of a better Mother’s Day gift than three baby chicks we all get to mother?

Nope.




There are now three little chicks snuggled in their big blue bin, warming light on, fresh paper, food and water. Oh, they’re sweet.

As my sister’s family drove away, Peter said to me, “Your sister sure loves you.”

And he’s right.

Freckles. I love ya...

Lil Roo got her first freckles. They're so cute, and add to her gigglie personality.

When did freckles stop being cute and start making me look old?

"Freckles. I love ya. There's a rainbow on your face..."

*If you know this song, you're either related to me or you love OLD country music.

Cake and blossoms

The apple blossoms are now here. I rarely open my bedroom blinds, except for this time of year. To see the blossoms. I love them.

The birds love them too. Most have found their nests and settled in for their babies to hatch. But just a few weeks ago you could count more than 20 robins in our three-tree orchard at any given time. See. They like them too.



Spring should bring renewed hope. The days are perfectly long, and the temperature lacks of nothing. Crisp in the morning, warm in the afternoon, and asks for a sweater in the evening.

So why the long face?

Sometimes things just don't go the way you want. Do they? Some days just are flat out smelly. Well. It's been a few of those days now. And to top it off; our new Easter fish, 'Wish the Fish' died yesterday.

And I didn't even tell the kids.

Only thing to make stinky times better? That's right.

Chocolate cake.


Generally, I prefer ALL from scratch cake. But this cake does NOT disappoint. Believe you - me!

1 pkg. devild food cake mix
1 (3oz) instant choc. pudding
2 c. sour cream
1 c. melted butter
5 eggs
1 tsp. almond extract
2 c. semi-sewwt choc. chips

Topping:
8 oz. semi-sweet choc. chips
3/4 c. cream




Preheat oven to 350. Grease 10in bundt pan. Mix cake mix and pudding mix well. Add everything else, except the chocolate chips. Beat on low for 4 minutes. Blend in chips. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 50 to 55 minutes. Turn out on wire rack and cool.


Icing/Topping:
In a saucepan mix the chips and cream. Melt slowly, then driddle over cake.



Mmmmm. Now don't you feel better?

Allergies aren't just for fun anymore...

It's allergy season, again.


We have all sorts of allergies at our house.


We have the nut variety. (and not just allergic to their crazy mother)


We have the egg type; by more than one of us.


We have the animal sort; by most of us.


We have the hay fever kind. Lot's of this.


We have the, 'it makes my mouth itch' flavor. This is used when a food is not wanted.

And, my favorite, the 'I'm allergic to Tigers' allergy.


This is Ruby's allergy.


She doesn't like Tigers, therefore she must be allergic to them.

Womens Conference

Before you read this. Watch this. Even if you've seen it. Watch it again. We are mothers. We must be strong. We must.




I thought I’d share just a couple of my favorite points with you from BYU Women's Conference. Maybe they will help fill your bucket too. It did mine:

Sister Beck, the General Relief Society President, spoke about these things:


*Every mother should produce a Superior Daughter.

*We are living in perilous times.

*Our ships of life are in a storm and it’s ‘All Hands on Deck!’ right now.

*Nehor and Korihor taught the doctrine of “Me” and “I.” They thought they were teaching new ideas. People today are teaching the same thing, thinking they are shedding new light into peoples lives. These are teaching taught by failed leaders. Teachings that are not new at all, they have been taught by Satan since the beginning…

*Anti family will always equals anti Christ.

*We must be intentional about everything in our lives. Know the Lord’s plan and defend it! Decide what we want for our families and how we’re going to get them there. Decide the culture of your family.

Love this! I love being reminded that we have to make a pathway for our families, or they will wander in sorrow. We have a responsibility to make each day purposeful. We have to teach them to “Contribute to and build the Kingdom.” We must be “intentional about raising our families.”

*We cannot push, shove, insist, or demand our children into righteousness. But we sure can drive them to Hell. We must lead, love, and guide them to Heaven.

*Create a climate, in our homes of faith, hope, and charity.

*We need the Lord more than ever. See the spirit, recognize and follow it! We’re preparing a rising generation.

*This work we do, is a faith based work. Motherhood is not a fad. We have to have faith in who we are and where we come from.

Do you know why I love Sister Beck so much? Because she says it how it is. She ruffles people feathers, and we need it. One of my favorite things she said on Friday was, "It's okay to make your husband dinner." We live in a day where society is telling women to put themselves above all other things. No. We need to put the Lord first. And very often this means our husbands, children, siblings, parents, church callings and so many other things before us. This doesn't mean we forget who we are. It doesn't mean we don't take time for ourselves. It means we strive each day for selflessness.

I testify that if we work daily on all of the little things; the prayers, the scriptures, the talks with our kids, the conversations with our husbands - we will be blessed. If we remember why we are here and where we are going, we will pass the test. If we serve, love, and put the first things first - we will make it.