Let's wrap it up!

I know this will come as a shock to most of my readers....

I'm sort of wrapping-impaired.

No, really!

There are several things that trip me up, not the least of which is the actual procurement of wrapping paper.  It turns out, in order to have a good-looking package, it would help to actually BUY PAPER. Now, I used to be pretty good at this, B.K. (Before Kids, as though you needed the translation...) I'd look through all the paper in the bins, buying the glossy, classy paper and co-ordinating bows. My packages still looked relatively horrible, but I got marks for spending money on the materials.

The era we are currently in would be D.K. (During Kids or Dang Krazy; either meaning is relevant) and the paper is borrowed. I'm NOT kidding you. Dead serious. I went looking for the Christmas paper today (I know, nothing like planning ahead) and found....a roll of Day-Glo chartreuse-y green stuff that had been hidden under our bed. Yeah. I don't know why I hadn't found it earlier, either...it illuminates the room. Realizing that wouldn't cover all 57 gifts, I pleaded with my husband to requisition some paper from his mom. (She makes Martha Stewart look like a slouch. But that's another post...)

While I was under the bed, looking for the Christmas paper, I ALSO managed to locate a bag of cheap bows that had a decidedly flat, dusty appearance, as though our 23 lb. cat had been laying on them. (I'm quite sure she had, because she wouldn't look me in the eye as I questioned her, and that's a dead giveaway that she had something to do with the flattening.)

It's also helpful to have some Scotch tape.

I found two rolls that showed promise. One had been in hibernation since 2003, (I know this, because that was the date on the newspaper it was with.) but the adhesive seemed to have retained its stickiness.

So, we are looking at 57 presents, armed only with a roll of sci-fi paper, a roll of borrowed Santa paper, 25 flat bows, two (?) rolls of tape and a couple of paper shopping bags I scrounged up, that looked sort of festive. (Meaning: the cat hadn't had a chance to lay on them, yet...)

Care to guess how my gifts look?

I can really get behind the statement " It's the thought that counts".
The TRICKY part is convincing people that I had a thought. 

And, no, I'm not going to post a picture of the gifts. Bad enough I bared my soul in print.

O Come Let Us Adore Him

Don't you love Nativity scenes?

When I was a little girl, my sister and brother and I made a whole set out of salt dough and painted it with tempera paints. Salt dough is a wretched medium to try to create holy dioramas with. As I recall, our figures were shaped rather like flat-bottomed Weeble people. We had a terrible time with their little facial features and decided to fix them with the paint. Tempera paint is a wretched medium to try to repair holy dioramas with. It's bright. It runs like cheap mascara in a humid room. And our Mom loved it, displaying it (to our horror as we hit the junior high years) prominently every year. 

When I was a young, single teacher, one of my students' families made me a tiny Nativity with clothespin dolls on a cottonwood platform. They built the creche with materials they had gathered around their ranch, right down to the lichen hot-glued to the base. Mary and Joseph were robed in felt, and had the most beatific looks drawn with care by young hands, and baby Jesus was tenderly wrapped with soft, white cotton. I cried when I opened it; it was so lovely, all that care for a foolish girl who was learning more from them than they ever would from her. 

When I was a new bride, my husband saw me examining a minescule Nativity in one of those World Market type stores in the mall.  It was the most delicate, perfect little sets that I'd ever seen! All of the figures would fit easily in a grown man's cupped hands...not neatly, but they'd fit.  It was all ivory colored, with darker tones to illuminate the features; simple and elegant.  That Christmas eve, our first together, he surprised me with the little Nativity! I've carefully arranged it every year, astounded that the kings still bear their gifts with no scratches or nicks, and that the shepherd's staff is intact. 

When I became a mother, I wanted a Nativity that my children could hold and feel and arrange. (They aren't quite ready to venture into salt dough territory...)  I found a resin-ish, plastic-ish Nativity scene in the Bible bookstore in Miles City this year.  The tallest of the wise men is about 10 inches in stature, almost Barbie doll height.  They are painted very subtly, in muted blues, soft browns and corals. But then, as though the makers couldn't stand to let them leave the factory with that much elegance, they encrusted them with a clear sort of glitter.  By the light of the tree, they are enchanting! By the light of day, they are border-line gaudy...kind of like women who put on makeup in dark rooms.  Whoa! 

The kids are loving them.  Most days, I find all the wise men, shepherds, Holy family and animals all gathered in a clump around the baby Jesus.  They're all looking in, crammed as close as they can, shoulder to shoulder, robe to robe.  Yesterday, however, it took on a new dimension as the Tyrannasaurus Rex joined the group.  He seemed happy to be there, but there was definitely a menacing presence lurking behind Joseph. We think he was really checking out the lambs, but we can't be too sure. I removed him, but Rex returned, carefully placed in his spot with sticky hands.  (You could tell by the glitter...)

I look forward to the Nativities I'll add, as the years pass.  I'm sure my kids will make some sort of representation and that I'll get tears as I unpack it, annually.  There will be missing lambs, wise men with battered crowns, shepherds that have been given more "detail" and donkeys with the OC brand on their right hip.  And they'll all be beautiful to me, because when I look at them I'll see the people I love and the real meaning of this Holy-day, my Jesus.

The Littlest Angel

My baby was in her first ever Christmas pageant!  She was cast as an angel, one of three, and she was the littlest and youngest on stage.  Maggie has been waiting all her life to be on stage.  Last year, at the end of the play, Celestia said, "Well, I guess that's all unless someone else wants to come up and sing." Maggie grabbed her friend Ben's hand and started up there, exclaiming, "Yeah! Me 'n' Ben!" (It should be noted here that Ben had no intention of going up there and provided anchor-like tendencies to slow her rise to stardom...)

Here's the angel, waving to her adoring fans (Daddy, Mommy, Angus and grandparents) while she sings. Not a drop of stage fright or hesitation in the child. 

They wear the wings with GREAT dignity. You've never seen such serious heavenly host!

Maggie, delivering one of her three lines.  You can see she talks with her hands, just like her mom.

Okay, these horses were just the greatest! The props for the play must've taken days, but they were so worth it.  The horses galloped, reared, jumped around, trotted....but nobody was thrown.

Singing "Jolly Old St. Nicholas"...the entire cast.  See the little banditos? They were raccoons! The students and teacher wrote the entire play themselves, and were able to customize the parts to the cast.  Those two raccoons were naughty, in the play, but quite contrite when caught. 

The other thing I really adore about this play, as well as last year's, is that the Christmas story is read from the book of Luke, within the plot. 

Santa!

I thought we were going to have problems here.  Mags wanted to see his sleigh and reindeer.  It's not good enough just to see the jolly old elf; she wants to have the WHOLE experience.  Fortunately, while we were in the bathroom changing out of the angel attire, Santa disappeared, so she didn't get to corner him on his mode of transportation....

Angus was thrilled to his toes, by Santa.  When he first saw St. Nick, his arms started flapping and his feet were dancing in one spot.  Even after he got to sit on his lap, he'd run over to Santa and give him a hug, whether there was another kid there, or not. 

And, of course, there was LOTS of food. Tons of appetizers, cookies and candy....most of us made two trips, and there was still food left over. Most of the kids just ate staggering amounts of candy, provided by Santa.   

It was really a great evening and I think everyone had a nice time.

I wish you all could've been there!

Not All Fired Up...

...about the Kindle.

In the comment section of the "Rescued" post, my friend Pam brought up the Kindle. For those who don't know about it, it's basically a little computer-ish device that allows the owner to download entire books to take with them.  The big selling points (from what I've read and can understand) is that the downloaded books are cheaper, easier to transport 200 volumes in your backpack, and allows the owner to choose what format to read them in (large print, fine print, making notes by keyboard, etc.) among other things.

I am not known, first of all, for my technological aptitude. It's all I can do to run the toaster, competently, and at the news of my blogging, my friend Traci sputtered coffee and swooned in her chair. "But you don't USE the computer," she gasped. Then, in a moment of reflection, I could tell what she was thinking..."No, Traci, my computer screen doesn't have eraser marks on it, either."  What a relief!

It's not that I'm opposed to technology. I rather like electricity, and I whole-heartedly embrace dishwashers, washing machines and coffee makers that allow me to stumble out at 4:33 a.m. and push a button for sweet nectar from Heaven. AND if I ever have the great privilege to meet the person behind the invention of 4-wheel drive on the fly and heated car seats, I will fall on the ground in gratitude and kiss their blessed feet. (I'm pretty sure it was a woman from the gumbo hills of Eastern Montana who got good and mad about having to get out and put the hubs in, dressed in clothes for church, who invented the 4-wheel drive on the fly.)

Are you still with me?

Pam asked whether I would own a Kindle, all cost aside. (That's a pretty big aside.)

And my answer is....

If I go back to college, maybe.

(Traci just spit coffee all over her computer screen, again....Sorry!)

But I won't own one just to have one. 

1. Technology changes so quickly that they will soon be obsolete....like the first cell phones that weighed 25 pounds and came in their own briefcases on wheels.  And when I say "obsolete", I don't mean they'll be going away, per se. Just that they will be advanced, tweaked, shrunk, changed and pretty soon, the Kindle will be on the pile of "well, it was fun for a couple years", while the consumers get the newer version.

2. I'd never remember to charge it. And that would make me spitting, throw-down, stomping, pseudo-cussing mad, to not be able to read the new "book"  I purchased! AND, invariably, I'd short the dadgummed thing out with my internal electronic impulses and there'd be the most expensive paperweight ($800 device + $350 downloaded, fried books) you've ever seen.

3. Don't you just love the smell, feel and essense of books? Don't you just feel rich, to have them? Isn't it great to find someone's handwritten comments in the margin? How the heck would I share my books? ("Here, Fontie, you can borrow my Kindle...")  You can't have an author inscribe your Kindle, can you? These are questions I can get really sarcastic and cutting on, but I won't.  I'll let you leap to that, yourself.

4. This is a completely dumb thing, but I don't like the idea that not everyone can have them.  I couldn't send a box of Kindles to Africa or Afghanistan to help others. Well, I could, but then a bunch of folks in Africa and Afghanistan would have some expensive paperweights. Or something. 

I can see how they'd be completely life-saving, in college, to be able to have texts and reference materials in one lightweight, portable spot. 

I'm not all fired up to own one, otherwise. 

And I'm not likely to find one in a second-hand store, with mementos tucked into its buttons, unless it's left by someone like me. Someone who couldn't retrieve "Little Women" and tried to get it out manually....

Rescued

(That's a pretty dramatic title for what I'm about to write...)

A couple mornings ago, I was having my coffee and opening my Bible when I noticed how FULL it was getting.  I am easily distracted, like a chicken, and started looking at all the flotsam and jetsam stuffed within the pages. I found, in no particular order: a feather, my brother's engagement announcement, my first Mother's Day card, a bookmark my Mom gave me in high school, my grampa's obituary, the reciept for my dog Molly, my old Weight Watcher's card with my weigh-ins (has since been relocated; don't even look) and other little bits of sentiment and memories.  It's like an informal scrapbook. And sometimes the memento is placed with a particular chapter and verse, but other times it's just in there and moves around like the Israelites in the desert. 

As I sifted through these things, I remembered a Bible I bought at St. Vincent De Pauls a couple years ago. It, too, had little treasures in its pages. I don't know whose it was or how it came to rest on the shelf of a thrift shop. I'm guessing it belonged to someone's bachelor uncle and they had to go through his stuff hurriedly, not taking time to open it, tossing it in the box with his old, threadbare shirts and the out-of-date hat he always wore to the Senior Center bingo and sandwich days.  

The Bible was old and brittle, and must've been cheap, because the pages are rough and thick, and the cover is not a premium leather, by any means. There was no publishing date, so it's just a guess.  In the book of Numbers, I found a crumbling, pink chrysanthemum and a slip of paper with the name "Mrs. Ellefson" written in shaky cursive. In Deuteronomy, there was a postcard from Defenders of America, depicting the USS Canberra, Number 6 in a series of 24 cards from the Nabisco Company. In the First Book of Samel, a little Christmas greeting in the form of a church bulletin, from The Church on the Hill.  Later, still in I Samuel, was a tiny little white cross that looked like it had been cut out of a greeting card. 

II Kings held a proclamation that "Samuel Alexander & Charles D. Penrose Have bought from George Gaullagher his Large and very extensive stock of MERCHANDIZE, (sic) composing a most extensive assortment of GOODS...etc." Within the listing were Irish Popolins, Sarsnett Silks, Bengal Chintz, Straw and Gimp Bonnets, ALSO Brandy, Gin, Molasses, Salt, Fish...and it goes on. Quite impressive! The date on the bottom is August 17, 1825, but I believe it's a reproduction. What an odd little thing to tuck into Scripture!

Psalms revealed a tiny tin star, with the three wisemen painted on it. Isaiah produced a little booklet of patriotic songs, both Norwegian and American. On one cover was the American flag, on the other, the flag of Norway. It was Printed in Norway by Emil Moestue A/S and I dearly wish I could read Norwegian!

I stood there in the second-hand store with this little black Bible, a little sad that no one knew whose it was and trying to picture the former owner. I had to rescue it, of course. 

Now it sits on the bookshelf in my bedroom, with an ancient book of Bobby Burns on one side and a turn-of-the-century volume of Faerie Tales. Quite a little group of literature, they are.  I think they're happy. I love to rescue books and give them a home.

I wonder what my Bible will reveal to my kids or grandkids, when they go through it after I'm gone. (And knowing my kids, I'll just be gone to the grocery store, not dead....) I hope there's more happy than sad, more hope than heartache. And I hope they give it a good home. 

In which the Duttons get together and exalt the blessed confection, the Cookie...

In a moment of insane inspiration, I suggested we all have matching aprons for Cookie Day.

Karen made ALL these!

(Mine is still not cut out or stitched, residing still in it's little Copper Thimble sack. I always have SUCH good ideas....just end up baking instead of sewing....)

We visit a lot, and catch up on everyone's lives. Here my sister Jen and Bonnie are discussing world affairs, I'm sure....

Auntie Jolene, Kamryn and Jentry, decorating the sugar cookies.

They were true artists!

Careful, careful....

Isn't that red pretty?

Maggie's paint horse.

Grammy Karen, enjoying the day.

Auntie Cari and baby Javon, relaxing.

(Secretly, Cari was trying to put her down for a nap....eventually she succumbed, but not without a fight.)

We end up dividing up about 15 different kinds of cookies and 4 or 5 different types of candies, in buckets for everyone.

PopPops gave Maggie and Angus two of his old hats, to their great delight!

At the end of the day, when everyone was frazzled, we heard a bawling from the basement.

I ran down to check out the situation and Maggie was sobbing, "I don't WANT to be a farmer, anymore! I want to be a COWGIRL!" PopPops assured her that she could be both, and she got the hat. She's still thrilled!

YUM!

Bookclubbin'

We are VERY serious about getting wine bottles open. You don't mess around with our merlot.

I wasn't supposed to take any pictures of people (even though everyone there HAD showered AND worn make up...) but this was blurry because of the action, and I decided no harm done in posting...

Our book was Jan Karon's Home To Holly Springs.

Our meal consisted of kraut bierrochs (not sure on the spelling), buffalo wing flavored eggrolls, cranberry/raspberry jello with whipped cream, some sort of phenomenal snickerdoodle cream cheese ball with pretzels, a Greek-style pasta salad, several different types of wine (Malbec being our new favorite), coffee and French Silk pie.

The kraut bierrochs are this sweetish, light bread that encases a filling of hamburger, onions, cabbage, salt and pepper. They are quite possibly the most wonderful thing I've ever eaten. I had two and a half....and lamented that I didn't have room for more.

At one point, in the meal, Clara made the comment, "Isn't everything here just the best food you've ever eaten?" and we all enthusiastically nodded, our mouths being too full to talk politely...

Seven of our ten members made it, and baby Everett joined us, too. He's the best baby I've ever been around, and a delight to cuddle. (We all did our share. His little cheeks were probably chapped from all the kisses.) After the food and discussion around the table, we retired to the living room and sang Christmas carols. I know, it sounds kind of corny but it was really fun! These girls can carry a tune!

The next book is Penguins and Golden Calves by Madelyn L'Engle.

We'll be meeting here at my house, and when it's at my house, I photograph people. So next month, you'll see some of the faces of the Underground Bookclub.

Zee answers...

....to zee quiz from Wednesday:

1. Everyone knew it was (d.). Our heater was broken and I was bakin'.

2.  (a.) Wasn't that an awful question? But I had to give a real answer and all I could think of was Batman. When I was writing the quiz, Pepe started looking more my style, but I had already decided on Bruce Wayne.The original question said no personality or anything could be part of the answer. Honestly, I still don't get the idea. By the way, the question-er was male and he said Ariel or Jessica Rabbit. And he and his coworkers DO need to get busy filing papers or calculating budgets or something....

3. (c.) I'm now the proud owner of my very own tiara! Yes! My friend Shelly read my heartfelt blog post and sent it last week. I adore that girl.  It's old, it's got gen-u-ine rhinestones, and combs to hold it in my beehive hairdo.  I'm still working on that hairdo, but the tiara is in the kitchen and I wear it often. Just ask the UPS man, who was very polite about it, but will be leaving all my other packages in the porch without knocking...

4.  (d.) Penguins and Golden Calves by Madelyne L'Engle is our next selection. It's intelligent, somewhat controversial, and they'll have to work at it; kind of like chocolate granola. The book talks about icons and idols....yeah, in a mixed religion crowd it's going to cause a stir.

5. (a.) In a stunning turn of personality, I decided that I do, indeed, still like frosted sugar cookies the best. They are called fish cookies in my house because Karen Yost and I made them in the shape of trout (I DO have that cookie cutter) and decided they are best that way. Truly. Everyone should try our fish cookies. Besides, by calling them that, everyone else steers away from our favorite confections.

6. (d.) All those things. Christmas trees bring out the best and the worst in me. Do come by for eggnog.

7. (c.) One movie, on Disney's evil FastPlay loop, will continue for all time and eternity until the electricity goes off or said cat accidentally shuts it off. I'm much too involved in writing to actually get up and disconnect the sucker. The kids, bored by the 45 minutes of Disney previews, eventually wander off to their bedrooms to build and destroy towns of blocks. Everyone wins.

Fontie, Country Wife and Lori....Thanks for playing! No one got them all right, but you came remarkably close.  Sadly, I don't have a new purse with fringe or lime green shoes, and the Vermont Maple cookies are a close second.  You all win a small amount of notoriety in the Chronicles. I'll be name dropping this week...

From the vault...

It's not cool to write a Thanksgiving post in the middle of December. But then, I've never been accused of being cool. I HAVE been accused of procrastination, and that, I believe, would be the reason you're seeing our Thanksgiving pictures now, as opposed to when you should've seen them. (The day after Thanksgiving comes to mind.)

Something you should know about us and Thanksgiving....we generally can take any holiday and turn it into a disaster, but Thanksgiving is where we really shine. We've been 10 hours from home under 3 feet of snow. We've had turkey poisoning which actually turned out to be a case of pregnancy. (I say "we". It was me, but the whole family suffered.) We've had turkeys done 2 hours before they were supposed to be. And 2 hours after. We've experienced my sister's attempt at a charming frog eye salad...all 1 1/2 gallons of it. (It was good, but there was enough to feed several families.) You get the idea.

This year, Celestia and I informed the men that we were not cooking or doing dishes, and we made a reservation at the Miles City Town and Country Club for their Thanksgiving buffet. Oh sure, we'd have to load the family up and drive 80 miles, but that's a pretty small sacrifice for soft hands that didn't touch dishwater and potential disaster averted.  There was a little grumbling, but I believe the glare behind our glasses convinced them that THIS year it would be alright. Just don't try that nonsense with us again next year.

And it was a lovely day. No mishaps, no kitchen disasters, no stories to tell years down the road. Rats.

The cooks, all giddy after lunch. They kept coming and taking our plates, so we kept having to start over again at the buffet, because we were going to get our money's worth, by golly, and it was fun to not have to worry about the dishes!

Yes, that's a little turquoise and pink purse in his hand. See? I'm not the only one with eccentric taste in handbags....

We ran the kids around the 16th hole and green, before we unleashed them on the country club crowd.

Celestia and Jasper.

Some family you are born to, some family you meet later in life.

Javon, my little niece, giving me her best baby grin.

We drove past my brother's house, and my Mom was outside with my nieces. They met us at the park for a little playing. Such a nice surprise!

Jentry, my niece, showing me all her loose and lost teeth. Maggie is lagging behind, with only one marginally loose tooth. Jentry's are coming out like Chicklets.

That's it! Next year will be a glorious post, filled with a more traditional dysfunctional Thanksgiving.

I promise.

Pop Quiz

The Farmer's Wife has been conspicuously absent from her blog for *gasp* a week, causing mayhem and malaise in the blogworld and a hole in the ozone, or something like that.  Here is a little quiz to see how well you know me and to hopefully renew your interest in reading my blog. (Leave your answers in the comments. And there really IS only one right answer per question. Really.)

1. The Farmer's Wife has been gone for a week...

     a. writing the great American novel against a 48 hour deadline, which came at the end of a 15 month deadline.

     b. because she finally learned to knit AND purl, and finished a sweater.

     c. decorating the house like Martin Stewart, Martha's redneck cousin.

     d. because her husband was fixing their heater and she was running for parts and heating the house with the kitchen stove.

2. While on hiatus, she was asked (as a Crazy Mary question) who she thought the "hottest cartoon character" was.  Her answer?:

     a. Batman; he's got a great car and scads of money.

     b. Mr. Incredible; I've been there, trying to cram myself into a too-small supersuit.

     c. Pepe Le Pew; he's got style AND he's French. Oui!

     d. Have you been drinking? Who thinks of these things, except people who need more to do in the Lewistown Schools Administration Office?

3. What fashion accessory did the Farmer's Wife obtain, causing great rejoicing in the land?:

     a. Bedazzled Scotch cap; cows and rhinestones go together like broccoli and ice cream.

     b. A new purse, sans animal print but with fringe, cutting edge fashion as usual.

     c. Tiara, (not stolen from the Princess Mags) to wear around the house.

     d. New shoes! Lime green, three inch heels, on sale at Walmart.

4. It's her turn to choose next month's Underground Bookclub Selection. What will she assign?

     a. Confederates In the Attic; y'all NEED to appreciate the Civil War is still going on.

     b. Too Much Tuscan Sun; we could use a little too much sun right now.

     c. The Essential Calvin and Hobbes; not QUITE a graphic novel, but work with me, here.

     d. Penguins and Golden Calves; controversial reading to warm the heart.

5. After baking 8 different cookie recipes, she's decided that her favorite cookie is:

     a. Frosted sugar cookies; classic and artistic.

     b. Gingerbread men; guys with spice are nice.

     c. Vermont maple cookies; portable little maple bars.

     d. Oreos; on sale, double stuff.

6. Christmas trees are:

     a. real, green and always grow in circumference after being put in that creaky little stand.

     b. evil traditions that cause mothers to start drinking leaded eggnog way too early in the day.

     c. beautiful, no matter how they are decorated.

     d. all of the above, and then some. Let's talk later. Over eggnog.

7. How many movies have the children watched, in order to buy enough time to make up this brain-bending quiz?

     a. Two. The Farmer's Wife types fast, once her brain gets warmed up.

     b. None. The Farmer's Wife is a martyr and types while kids climb over her, clawing and fighting like raccoons who ate too many cookies.

     c. One. Only it's been the same one on Disney's *Fast Play* and it will repeat until the cat accidentally shuts it off, batting at the little green light.

     d. None. The children are in the kitchen, painting ornaments for thier grandparents and singing Christmas songs together, sweetly. (Have YOU been drinking? Have you been to our house?)

That's pretty much it, for the quiz.  If you get all the answers right, you will be given due recognition and glory on this blog, and deemed a kindred spirit for life! (Woohoo. JUST what you wanted; to be a kindred spirit with a crazy, stay-at-home mother in Eastern Montana...)

We flip for....

....pancakes!!!

And we really flip for pancakes at supper-time. Last night, the Cohagen school kids and their families put on a pancake supper at the community hall and we were enthusiastic participants!

If you Google Earth "Cohagen", you'll notice right away that there are only about 8 buildings; one is the school, one is the post office and one is the community hall/gym.  The community hall is used for plays, funerals, the occasional wedding, church on Sundays, bridal and baby showers, voting, P.E, usta-be-studs-basketball games, poker night, Bible studies, carnivals, Easter brunch, and pancake suppers, among other things.  The whole community (36 people and their kids/grandparents/out of town guests) fit there for a good time. There's a little tiny kitchen, two cold little bathrooms, stage, retractable basketball hoops and about 300 folding metal chairs that are older than my dad, I think, and slide under the stage on wheeled carts.  It's a great place and we're so grateful to have it.

The pancake supper was held in the community hall and there was careful planning and implementation, because two electric griddles and a coffee pot will overload the electrical circuits and blow breakers. It's a delicate operation that requires pre-cooking of bacon and alternating skillets with coffee pots.  The older school kids and teacher had tables set up, decorated with Mexican looking tissue paper flowers and white paper tablecovers handprinted in primary colors.  Very festive!

Each family brought a gift basket for a community drawing-giveaway.  Our community supports the school in so many ways, both with their taxes and involvement, and we wanted to show appreciation in some small way.  The gift baskets were hidden under boxes and numbered, and at odd intervals the kids drew names and numbers; the name drawn got the box with that number.  It was fun, and someone (I'm not naming names here) put an old toilet bowl in one of the boxes for a prize.  The kids were so delighted with it! Especially since their computer aide won that prize.

Here's the menu: (you know it's all about food...)

Scrambled eggs

Bacon

Beef sausage

Pancakes

Beverages...orange juice, apple juice, coffee, milk and water

It wasn't a really big crowd, but it was a fun evening.  People came and ate, then stayed and visited for two hours. The little kids played in the entry, the big kids roamed about refilling coffee and juice, taking pictures for the school paper. The mothers cooked, did dishes, giggled and clucked.  The dads ran kids around, drank coffee and served food. 

Sometimes its hard living far from town, and sometimes it's just a great blessing.  Last night reminded me of how much fun small rural communities are and how much I like this one. 

Bummed...

L to R: Festus, Annie Light, Daisy

Do you remember my bum calves? This picture was taken in July, I think, when the grass was beautiful and green. This is just after they got their bottles...you can see all their tongues sticking out and the milk foam.

Well, this is the rest of the story.  You know that Festus met with a sad end; he was just malformed from the beginning of his life and the summer heat and stress really took it's toll on him. So we had to say goodbye to Festus early.

We weaned Annie and Daisy with the two-year old bunch, the Sevens, and their calves.  It was funny to watch them try to integrate with that herd. They came back several times, for crumbles and Nutra-Lix Plus, and when I talked to them in the pasture, they knew me and came closer.  Daisy was the leader, and sort of the mother figure for Annie. They kept track of each other through everything, and looked for each other when we gathered the bunch. 

Today we sorted the heifer calves for keepers and shippers.  We sort off the obviously runty or large heifers, so we'll have a nice, even bunch; very uniform and all black, no baldies allowed! Vern and I have been going round about whether or not to keep one of my bums. It's going to be a real pain for him, because I have a different brand and we'll have to have a different color tag to track.

It has been several weeks since I saw all the heifer calves, and when I walked through them today, I knew right away that Annie was a shipper. She never did gain the height or muscle she needed, and she had to go. Daisy was tougher, because she didn't stand out as obviously. She fit in the lower end of the average, and all the while we were sorting, I was having an internal dialogue with myself.

 It went something like this:

"Really, she should go. She's just not as big as she should be. But we can't pick her out that easily, so she must not be THAT bad. No, she's a bum, and bums go down the road. But when we were kids, we raised a couple bums and put them back in the herd; they did alright. She's going to have to be fed all year, and she may never breed up. Or she may fill out and breed up very nicely and I'd regret having sold her. She's really a good little calf. She has a lot of heart, and she's smart. But I need to be an adult; Vern told me not to get that attached and I know this. I think she'll make it. Oh, look at her! She's got to go. No, I need to give her a chance...."

In the end, Daisy made the cut. Not because she's a spectacular specimen of a calf or because we see a lot of promise in her, but because Vern has a hard time watching me have a hard time. He said we could always sell her later, if she didn't work out. That was very generous of him because we'll have invested quite a bit of feed in her by then. But for now, the OC herd is still intact...it's miniscule, but intact. 

Annie called and called for Daisy, once they were sorted apart, and that was hard for me to watch. She'll adjust, though, and she's going to the sale barn on Monday. I can't think too much about it; I need to sell her to pay for the food that all of them consumed this spring and summer.

Next spring isn't far off, with new calves and bums, and we'll see how it plays out!

True Confession #269..or something like that

I make really ugly pies.

Some of you can attest to this, from personal experience/trauma.

It's not that I can't make pies; I can. It's just that they look like they've been made by a seeing impaired person with no dexterity. 

My home-ec teacher in high school, Mrs. Bray, rolled her eyes (Yeah, you alumni are grinning...you got the eye roll too, at one time!) and said, "Mary Dutton! You make the ugliest pies I've EVER seen!" That was my Senior year, after she'd seen 4 years of my sorry little attempts at them. And that woman had seen some ugly pies in her day! You know she had...

My mother makes lovely, Betty Crocker picture perfect pies. Her pastry is flaky, rolled out to the perfect thinness and her scalloped edges are a work of art. I used to watch her whip those pies out with no more apparent effort than making, say, pancakes. At branding time, she'd produce at least 3-4 pies and they were so pretty I hated to cut into them.

Pie crusts are the wickedest, most vexing creations in the kitchen! Whoever started the phrase, "easy as pie" had obviously not spent a lot of time making crusts.  I'm assuming that person's job was the filling, because filling is glamorous AND a snap! Crusts can cause the most patient of cooks to wail, gnash teeth and hyperventilate. They have a way of looking stable on the rolling cloth and disintegrating into a mass of 1/2 inch pieces on the way to the pie plate.  You can't re-roll, because whatever adhesive quality was there during the first go-round has absolutely dissipated during the collapse, and you're better off starting with new dough. If you even have the desire to go on, that is...

I've used Pillsbury crusts. I'm not proud of it. But when I need certain qualities, such as uniformity and relative pie-ishness to look at, they work. Here's the thing about Pillsbury piecrusts: just because they are already made for you, doesn't mean you can pull them out of the fridge and slap them into the pan with no preparation! No. If you read the fine print, you'll notice they need time to soften up; precious time that cannot be gained with a microwave. That's also in the fine print, but should be in bold, red print.

Tomorrow is a big pie day in America! In honor of this, I dug around and found the cheater pie crust recipe (relies on chemical process for flakiness...something about the egg and the vinegar together; don't dwell on it. I don't.) and made two pies. One pumpkin and one Georgia peach streusel. They are acceptable, but not photographable.

The GOOD thing is that I ALSO have plenty of heavy whipping cream to turn into real clouds for disguising any and all pie-flaws. If Mrs. Bray were to show up, she'd just be so gosh-darned thrilled I wasn't using Cool Whip that she might not notice the ugly pie underneath....

Happy Thanksgiving, and I hope you have some really pretty pies to work over!

Here's my list

I've been thinking about writing a post about what I'm grateful for, in honor of Thanksgiving and all. But I'm contrary, true to my name; generalities bug the heck out of me.  When I read lists of what people are thankful for, I'm looking for details, you know? Everyone is grateful for family, health, home and coffee. And it's true and sincere! But don't you want a little more specificity? (Which is a hard word to type, by the way...and to say! Go ahead, try it out loud. You spit all over yourself.)

Thus inspired, I give you my specific (but not exhaustive) list of Thanksgiving in no particular order of importance:

1. Running water in my home. (Not the water that is running all over the bathroom floor because my son left the faucet on while brushing his teeth with Irish Spring.) It allows me long showers, clean dishes in minutes, indoor toilets and clothes that aren't laundered in a tub. Glorious luxury!
2. Unlimited books. Think of it: we can go to free lending libraries, bookstores, second-hand stores, on-line stores, garage sales and access more books than our great-grandparents saw in their lifetime. I am afforded the great blessing of more books than I have bookshelves. Riches!
3. Freedom to worship. Honestly, this one gets me all the time...in this country, we get up on Sunday mornings and just take it for granted that we can go to church if we want, or stay home. We can have Bible Studies if we choose. We can have Bibles of 12 different translations laying right out there on the table, in full view of the world.  Our family drives almost 80 miles to go to our church, and sometimes it's only one Sunday a month, depending on roads and chores, and I stand there in worship crying because I'm so glad to be there. There are many places in the world where that cannot happen, or there's penalty of death. I can choose! I can worship freely!
4. Cows. You know I like them. Moving on...
5. I absolutely soak up the sound of my childrens' laughter. Is there anything better than a belly-laugh from a preschooler watching Sylvester and Tweety? 
6. I sink into my bed every night and breathe a sigh of complete bliss. I LOVE my bed. When Wayland made me take our wedding money and buy a good mattress, I thought he was the biggest fuddy-duddy in the world. We could've gone to Jackson Hole with that money! Or Bozeman! It turns out, the man was looking forward to when we were older and creakier. He's so smart.
7. Cordless phones. Do you remember watching your mom talk to your aunt on the phone, and that big, long cord wrapped around the house so they could talk and do housework? We could find Mom by following the cord and the empty coffee cups. Now I can take the phone anywhere! But still, the kids find me...
8. Grandma hands. I love to hold grandma hands; they are so soft and kind. Grandmas are a lot younger now than when I was little, so I guess the hands I'm holding are great-grandma hands, but you know what I mean. 
9. I adore hugs from friends who really, truly love me. I gather up all the hugs I can from Bookclub and they fuel me for a good week. Not polite aquaintance hugs, mind you. When I was a kid, my family called them bear hugs. That sort.
10. My husband's crazy inventive spirit. We are the same kind of weird, only he carries it off with a lot more style. He surprises me constantly with his projects and ideas, and I think he underestimates his talent. If only he'd let me market for him....

Eastern Montana Commute

I went to Lewistown, again, yesterday for another Quickbooks workshop with Waterman. He's the closest thing I have to a co-worker, only HIS office is 150 miles from mine. Tricky.

I took off from home about 6 a.m., in the dark. Driving in Eastern Montana that early in the morning is quite peaceful; the only outfits on the road are the occasional semi-truck or pickup and horsetrailer, headed to the neighbors.  To give you an idea of the traffic, between my house and Grass Range, approximately 120 miles, I met 12 outfits and passed one slow moving car.  The driver of the car looked to be a grandma headed to Billings for a doctor's appointment. I think she left Jordan closer to 5:30 and probably stopped in Winnett for breakfast. Toast, egg-over-easy and coffee. (I have no idea, really, but that's probably pretty close! Toast, eggs and coffee are very economical...)

Driving through the Breaks, near Mosby, the sun had just come up and the country had that soft, sleepy morning look. The shadows were blue and the hills were gold and pink; I love that time. Anyway, just ahead of me on the road, I saw some prairie going across the highway. It looked like prairie grass, all tan-gold and brown. Only prairie grass doesn't have antlers.

Three bull elk were loping across the highway, on their way to the cedars to sleep the day away.  Elk have a peculiar way of moving; they look like they are gliding, a little, and it looks like slow motion, but they can cover a lot of country very quickly. These three crossed the highway that way, and started up the hill on the other side. I pulled the car to a stop and amazingly, they pulled up and stopped too, broadside to the car. We looked at each other for a couple minutes, then the lead bull breathed out a frosty breath and turned, and they glided into the trees.

I'm glad I didn't have my camera, because I would've been trying to get the shot and missed the whole thing. But I'll have that picture in my head forever.

The rest of the day was spent in front of a computer screen, in a square office, crunching numbers incorrectly. (This accounting business would be much easier if I actually had a head for numbers...) Lisa Waterman, Mike and I had lunch at the Bon-Ton and I can report that they have excellent hamburgers and the small ice cream cones are pretty much a meal in themselves. Highly recommend it for a complete soda shop experience in Central Montana!

I didn't hit any deer, on the way home, but there's an owl flapping around near the Brown ranch with fewer tail feathers and a belly-ache.

Stream of thoughts...

I've been walking around with inconsequential thoughts in my head, looking for the cordless phone to call Traci or Beth; they are usually sitting on a mountain of their own inconsequential thoughts that they, too want to share. The phone is, of course, lost, and I'm not going to shackle myself to the wall with the corded one! So you all have the pleasure (or agony) of sharing a day's worth of inconsequential thoughts. Feel free to add any you've been sitting on...

I bought an issue of the magazine Cowboys and Indians this month because George Strait was on the cover. They could put George Strait on a case of motor oil and I'd buy it; I wouldn't even look at the weight or viscosity, either. (My husband just fell over in a dead faint, that I would know that even mattered in motor oil...)  It happened to be the NFR edition, where they are promoting Las Vegas and the Finals and Cowboy Christmas and all that jazz, and I thought it would be fun to catch up on the latest western trends.

All I can say about the latest "western" trend is that:
1. If there's a surface that can be seen, it's covered in turquiose, silver or fringe. And not tastefully covered, either.
 AND
2. I don't know how those poor little emaciated cowgirl models are able to pack all that bling around. They'd better get some workman's comp after the photo shoot and buy a hamburger. It's disgraceful.
(The article on George Strait, by the way, was well done and a bonus was that, buried under all those turquoise encrusted longhorn skulls (yes!) there was also an article about Ian Tyson. Neither Ian or George had turquoise on, bless their hearts!)

Next thought...
I urge everyone reading this blog to go buy a pint of heavy whipping cream and a bag of espresso beans, and create what I assume will be the drink offered in Heaven.  I make french press coffee, but whatever style you use, brew up something strong with the espresso beans. While that's going on, pour the WHOLE PINT of cream into a bowl, add *some* powdered sugar and a splash of real vanilla, and whip it up into soft peaks. Get the biggest mug you have, fill it half-way up with the whipping cream and top that with the coffee. I realize this is rather unorthodox, but you all need to learn to think outside the box. (You should have quite a lot of whipped cream left over, unless you just put it in the carafe and called it good.) Never mind that. Take yourself to a soft chair and drink the whole mug. (The reason you sit in the soft chair is so that when you swoon with joy, you don't fall down and needlessly splash coffee everywhere.)

Moving on...
(If you can)
I wanted to make a tutu for Miss Allie Glasscock last week, and being too lazy and/or too pressed for time to hand sew the elastic, I got out my sewing machine, Bernie. I had forgotten how sweetly she stitched and that wonderful comforting hum she made as she joined the fabric together! Bernie and I have been friends for 20 years. We've sewn together through bargain cotton, velveteen, polar fleece and satin. (Not in the same project...) Truth be told, she's holding up better than I am. I don't remember the needle having that fine an eye last time we sewed...  I put her back in the case, because I don't have room to leave her out, but the case is sitting here in the livingroom and I'm pretty sure I hear her calling me.  Perhaps we'll make some things for Christmas...

Lastly...
(I just have to tell this to you. Traci's heard it, but it still makes me smile.)
The day we shipped the steer calves, the guys and I did all sorts of sorting, shifting of cows, moving of panels and so forth. We were all pretty weary; even the cows.  The last bunch of cows we turned into the lower lot ambled through the gate and then stopped, staring transfixed, at me.  At least they were staring at what they could see of me.  I was behind a corrugated fence, so all they saw was my head moving.  Their ears were forward, their heads were up and you could just HEAR them thinking, "How'd she DO that?" 
Cows are so cool.

Underground Bookclub

The Underground Bookclub gathered, under the cover of darkness, at the Hilltop Cafe in Jordan last night. The time and location has been kept quiet, because it was feared that the place would be mobbed with wanna-be members. (Really, it was because we couldn't figure out a date that worked for everyone...but we like to give the impression that everyone wants to join our group.)

8 of the 10 members made it; Beth went to Billings, supposedly, and Karen G. was catching up after her whirlwind Disney tour. BUT the exciting new addition to the group, Miss Arianna, only 6 days old, made her first Bookclub meeting!! We were THRILLED (and a little surprised) Anne came with the pixie child. Truly, Ari looked like a tiny fairy baby! And she slept the whole time.  Baby Everett was there, too...7 weeks old...and he's a snuggler, to the great delight of all the clubbers.

On Tuesday evenings, at the Hilltop, you can order ANYTHING off the menu, even breakfast! I think most everyone ordered omelets, with the exception of Clara.  She ordered a pancake with sides. That pancake was the most amazing thing. It was the size of a Toyota hood. On a plate.  I've never seen such a magnificent speciman of a hotcake! Do you remember the movie "Great Outdoors" where John Candy eats the Old 89'r, a gigantic steak, so all the meals would be paid for? We tried to get our waitress to go for that deal, but she wouldn't. Drats.

Oh! And we DID discuss the book. "A Town Like Alice" was thumbs up all around. Anne hadn't had a chance to read the book, but we covered all the high points and not in the correct order, either.  She's very confused, now, but intrigued. The book brought up some interesting points about lifestyle and Australia. I can't reveal any more.

Thelma brought pavlova for dessert! It's basically a big old meringue nest topped with real whipped cream and fruit. I had dreams about it, last night. If you ever have the opportunity to eat pavlova, don't pass it up. Even if you're trying to lose the last 15 pounds of baby weight.

The book for November is by Jan Karon and I believe the title is "Beyond Holly Hill"  or something like that. I'll have to look it up, because I was laughing a lot when the paper came by with the title and I missed the exact title; Clara is our host next month and there was talk of singing carols. THAT ought to make for an interesting meeting!

Before...

So I started a new campaign to lose the last 15 pounds from the last baby who is now three years old and potty trained. About time, I would say...
And just so you know, it's no longer called "dieting". That's not PC. You can refer to it as "life change", "goals and attitude adjustment resulting in reduction of clothing size" or other things like that, but it's no longer en vogue to say you are on a diet to lose *gasp* weight.

This is probably the 34th campaign, so don't get all excited or impressed. And lock up your cheesecake.

I thought I would take a "Before" picture, because so many articles and books have those, and it is recommended so one can keep focused on the goal.  It was a big thing.  I took a shower, did my hair, put on makeup and spent about 15 minutes trying to figure out if I wanted to wear something baggy, so the change would be stunning, or tight, so the change would be stunning.

I asked my husband to take the picture. Big mistake. (For all of you contemplating this, have your kid or a trusted friend do the job.) He said, "Aren't you supposed to be wearing a swim suit?"
Apparently, I'm not the only one reading Shape magazine.

"NO! Just take the picture!"

"Does ALL of you have to fit in the picture?"

"TAKE THE PICTURE."

"Alright, alright....hold your horses..."

After he left for work, I grabbed the camera and downloaded the pictures.
Then I deleted them off the camera and contemplated erasing the memory card.
I took a deep breath and prepared to crop the photos to eliminate the background.
Let's just say I cropped deep.

Wouldn't you say a "Before" picture that showed fairly chubby facial features is good enough?
And NO! you aren't getting to see it, Mike...both of you. Not until I have an "After" in which the facial features have been dramatically reduced in size....

Puzzled...

My little family LOVES puzzles. The jigsaw variety, because only two of the four members can read right now. My Mom likes puzzles, my mother-in-law likes puzzles, about 4 out 5 people polled (informally) like puzzles.

I do not like puzzles.

I'm trying to learn to tolerate them, because they are QUIET entertainment. It's nearly impossible to put together a jigsaw puzzle and bounce like Tigger at the same time. We know this, because Angus has tried.

I really don't see the point in spending hours putting little randomly shaped pieces of cardboard together to form a picture that I already know from looking at the box. AND THEN (this really gets me) after a couple moments of contemplation, satisfaction from a job completed, IT IS TORN UP AGAIN AND RETURNED TO THE BOX WITH IT'S PICTURE ON THE FRONT!!! Couldn't we just sit and look at the box, instead? I think the reason this bothers me so much is that it's like getting all the laundry done...for about 10 minutes. That's not fun. Do you think that's fun?

Both my children clap with glee at the sight of a new puzzle. My son makes his little feet go 80 mph in one place, he's so excited.  And their system of doing a puzzle is funny to watch. First, find an eyeball. (There are always eyeballs in kid's puzzles. Trust me on this one. If you don't believe me, next time you're in Target, take a look.) After locating the eyeball, they go for other recognizable body parts until they've put together a whole character. They do the puzzle from the inside out. And Angus doesn't finesse puzzles; if he's pretty confident a piece belongs in a spot, he's not above pounding it in until it consents to being joined with the other piece. This upsets his sister, who deplores violence toward puzzles but has no qualms about pounding her brother until he consents to go where she wants him to....

My husband isn't nearly as excited as the kids, but once into a puzzle, he can't be torn from it. The house could be burning around him, the bathtub overflowing, his wife in a seizure and nothing will distract him from finishing the entire Lightening McQueen scene. He's focused. He's serious about jigsaw puzzles. He uses the box extensively, holding a piece up to examine the tones of red and the lines. The man will even do a Disney Princess puzzle as seriously as the pirate panorama. 100's of little pink puzzle pieces. I get woozy even thinking about it.

Maggie asked me, the other day, why we clap and cheer when a puzzle is finished. I told her it was because everyone was excited to see what they'd done, all complete. She looked sort of bemused, as though she liked finishing a puzzle but didn't think it warranted quite that much fanfare. But clapping and cheering is fun, and she'll go along with it, if it makes everyone else happy.

I'm just happy if all the little pieces make it back to the box. HOORAY!!!