Crop Tour 2011

Every year, our county agent puts together a crop tour in which a bunch of farmers get on the Senior Citizens' bus and drive all over the county looking at test plots, new varieties of grains that are being planted by progressive farmers, crops that were SUPPOSED to look good but don't for one reason or another, and range.

For several years, my friend Anne (who also happens to be the county agent's lovely wife) and I were the only girls on the crop tour.  We joked about it and started calling ourselves Foxtail and Kochia, two weeds that farmers hate to see in their fields. 

Here's Foxie and the little Foxtailettes....they were NOT impressed with the whole idea.  The Foxtailettes, I mean, not Foxtail herself. 

They took off early in the tour, because it was naptime and there was zero tolerance for standing around looking at wheat.

This picture just makes me smile, and I put it in for a Nana in England who misses these babies!

This is the first stop on the tour, here at Langs Fork, Inc., where we had a test plot of different kinds of winter wheat.  It didn't turn out well, due to a combination of the wrong seeding rate and lack of fertilizer...the spring was just too wet to get it applied.  My father-in-law is very disgusted with the way it turned out, so if you see him on the street, please don't mention that you saw these pictures on the Chronicles.  Thank you.

To look at the berries, the guys take a head of wheat and roll it around in between their palms, tearing off all the chaff and beard, blow it out and then they can see how full or heavy the wheat is and all sorts of other things. 

Our county agent discussing some of the reasons the wheat looks so bad in this test plot, and how the diseases like tan spot and rust don't overwinter here in Eastern Montana, but that they blow in every spring from the East.  Thanks, North Dakota!

The father-in-law that you didn't see in my blog, picking a head of wheat that you didn't see in my blog....

Here we are at Rod Lawrence's field....gorgeous stand of winter wheat!  *insert "Ooooo! Aaaahhh!"

Two professionals, checking out the varieties that were planted side by side.  If you want to learn a lot about farming, stick close to these guys...

Stinkin' grasshopper on Rod's beautiful wheat!

Taken out of my window, because I'm doing a challenge with my friend Patricia about scenes from windows. I love rear view mirror pictures...something about seeing ahead and behind, all at the same time, that intrigues me.

Peas that are READY to be cut!  I want to say these were Randy Brusett's peas, but I may have that wrong. ***They were Rod Lawrence's peas! The editor extends deepest apologies...*** I was always the last to the field and taking pictures, so I missed some of the finer points of the information...like whose crop it was and what the planting rate was.  Drats.

Stomping around in the pea field...

Oh!  Here's richness!  Check out the hay bales!  My cousin John went into the haying business this year and what a way to start....they aren't all in this picture, but a little over 7000 bales.  Big bales. So...if you need hay, let me know and I'll put you in touch with him!

We then drove something like 20 miles to the next wheat...Jeremy Watt's.  He lives in country that is closer to the Fort Peck lake and it's completely different farming, there. 

And here's HIS wheat.  Pretty, hm?  I want to say it was spring wheat, but again, I may be wrong....

The country is beautiful...

Lots of little prairie potholes with water in them, so there's more water fowl than normal...

I just liked the looks of this old hill.

We were SHOCKED to see longhorns on our way back to town!  What in the world...? 

Goofy horned!

 A Garfield County crop tour takes about 5-6 hours and covers an incredible amount of miles!

(I'll check with the agent to see how many we did that afternoon....)

On the second day of zucchini harvest, my true love gave to me...

Stuffed Zucchini!

Ingredients



3 zucchini
1 pound pork sausage
1 cup dry bread crumbs
1 clove garlic, minced
1 (32 ounce) jar spaghetti sauce (I'm morally opposed to using boughten canned spaghetti sauce, but I might try it, here.)
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese


Directions


1.Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).

2.Trim stems from zucchini and slice lengthwise. Scoop out seeds and put in bowl. Mix seeds with sausage, garlic, bread crumbs, and parmesan cheese. Stuff squash with sausage mixture and place in 9x13 inch baking pan. Pour sauce over squash and cover pan with foil.

3.Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes, or until sausage is cooked. Remove foil and cover with mozzarella cheese. Cook until cheese is melted.

My zucchini aren't big enough, yet, to stuff...I keep yanking them off the plant before they get too big.  I think the little ones have more flavor.  But I'm sure when I get back from my family reunion, there will be some monsters and this sounds like a good way to eat them.  And for heaven's sake, it has pork sausage in it!  I can hardly go wrong!

On the 1st day of zucchini harvest, my true love gave to me...

the iconic zucchini bread. 

*sigh*

What a let down, huh?

Except this recipe has an island kick!  I'm trying it this morning, for the first time, so I will have to put up the pictures and "thumbs up/thumbs down" review in a couple hours.  (I took a picture of the batter.  Ew.  NO ONE would want to try a bread that looks like it has chopped up worms as the main ingredient!  Don't let's judge the bread by the batter.) 

I've never made zucchini bread with pinapple, so this essentially IS a new recipe for me. 

Pinapple Zucchini Bread

Ingredients

1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup margarine, softened
1 cup grated zucchini
1 (8 ounce) can crushed pineapple with juice (drain a little juice off)
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla or coconut flavoring
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice (if you, like me, don't have allspice or can't find it in your cupboard, add a dash of cloves and a dash of nutmeg...that's all it is, really, besides the cinnamon)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Directions:

1.Heat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease and flour bottom only of a 9x5 inch loaf pan.

2.In large bowl, cream brown sugar and margarine until light and fluffy. Reserve 1 tablespoon pineapple juice. Stir in pineapple, zucchini, and eggs. Add flour, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, and allspice; blend well. Fold in nuts. Spread evenly in prepared pan.

3.Bake for 60 to 70 minutes, or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes, and then remove from pan.

-From All Recipes.com


Pictures to follow, at a later hour....

*This was introduced as Morning Worm Cake...as in "The early bird gets the worm".  Had I said it was zucchini bread, no one would've touched it.  But there's glory in eating Worm Cake for breakfast! (They looked for the little green chopped up worms, crowed when they found some and ate with relish.)

On a rating scale of 1-5,  5 being fabulous and 1 being bleh, I'd give it a 3.7.  It was just another zucchini bread recipe, despite the pinapple and coconut flavoring.  But it was tasty, so it wasn't a loss.  And it used up 2 small zucchini!  Now THAT'S fabulous!

Tackling the big issues...

I've been avoiding this topic for years. 



It's not pretty.



It's a problem that 6 out of 10 people face every summer.  EVERY summer!
And it's non-gender related....it's across the board; men and women, old and young, urban and rural. 


Zucchini.
*shudder*

A seemingly perfect vegetable, because it grows easily, has a gazillion uses, requires little care to produce...
Every spring, gardeners (and those who would never term themselves as such) plant at LEAST 5 hills, having some sort of winter amnesia about this little plant.  They seem to think that THIS is the year only one plant will make it, getting all nostalgic about zucchini bread like Grandma used to make, and that one hill is pointless, really. 

One hill of zucchini can feed a decent sized village in Mexico for approximately 3 months, non-stop. 
No kidding.
We ALL know this!

We are ALL in denial, in May, when planting our gardens!

We are ALL in despair, in late July/early August, when the harvest starts.

At first, it's sweet and happy.

"Oh, LOOK! A little bitty zucchini!  At last...something to harvest!"

And we bear it into the kitchen, chop it up in tiny little pieces, hide it in a green salad and feel quite proud of ourselves.

A couple weeks later, it's a desperate, crazy situation, not unlike dealing with the plant from Little Shop of Horrors, except in reverse.  Instead of demanding that you "Feed me, Seymour!", the plant grows to gargantuan proportions (even IF you stop watering the darn thing) and shoves its green fruits in your hands, pockets, anywhere there's an opening.  It's feeding you. Viciously.  Not just one plant, mind you...you planted something like 15 of them. (Three seeds to a hill, just like the seed packet says...moron...)

And THAT'S why you don't leave your car unlocked in Jordan, Montana from the first of August until a real heavy frost.  I was zucchini bombed when I was a single, starving young woman living on raman noodles and powdered milk.  I found an unmarked brown grocery bag on the front seat of my car one morning when I was leaving for work.  I was thrilled!  Free food!  After eating three of the 57 or so zucchini in the bag, I was cursing whomever may have left them. 

Because...and here's the funny thing...no one can bring themselves to throw away zucchini.  The vegetable has some strange power that controls your mind and won't allow you to dispose of them in any other way besides eating them.  It's true.  If you tell a stunned gardener or zucchini bomb reciepient to just pitch the dang green thing, they'll recoil and say something like "But I CAN'T!  I need to make something with it!"

True story.

That's why I've decided to do The Twelve Days of Zucchini, starting August 1st.  For twelve days, I'll post a new (to me) recipe for the obnoxious ingredient; something that may or may not be helpful, but it will at least ensure that you don't feel alone while drowning in your self-inflicted sea of zucchini!  (Take heart, brothers and sisters...we're all in the same boat, so to speak!)

For those of you who DIDN'T plant any, I urge you to lock all your doors and don't make eye contact with any garden-y type people who approach you with bulging coats and bags, and a sickly, frantic look on their faces...

With different eyes...

We stopped in Winnett, MT on our way home from Lewistown, to use the restroom at Gershmel's store, on Main Street.  My Uncle Marvin and Aunt Betty lived in Winnett, once upon a time, when I was pretty young and my cousins Brett, Blaine and Karleen were so impressive to us country cousins because they really knew their way around town. They rode their bikes to the swimming pool, unchaperoned! Shocking. It seemed so BIG to us, then!  And it really was more populated in the late 70s and early 80s, although the big boom of people and business had been many, many years earlier.

I usually end up driving through on the main route to Roundup, on my way to Billings, and miss the back streets of the town. This time, though, I didn't get the "I gotta go potty, NOW, Mom!" signal until we were right upon the second turn into town....the back way that MY Mom always turned into, because it led more directly to Uncle Marvin's house.  We rumbled down the gravel, down through the edge of town, and I saw it with grownup eyes, for the first time that I can remember.  Of course, it's much different now...if I look very, very carefully, I can see where Mosby's house was...I recognized the big trees where the front yard had been, although a lot of them were missing.

It was startling, and a little sad to see the edges of town crumbling back into the country; like a good woman who'd had a hard life and was aging in a not-so-graceful way.  I wanted to take some pictures of some of the things that struck me, but all I had was my Droid camera, so they aren't great.  I took them anyway.  They are so very typical of how these little Montana towns are drying up and dying. There are some really great things about Winnett, too...truly the nicest swimming pool around, great grocery store, beautiful school...but I saw the fading things, this time, so that's what I'm showing. 


The Winnett Bar and Grill...the recliner and sofa outside really add to the ambiance, I think.  Oddly, I didn't even notice them right at first, because they sort of fit into the picture. I don't know how the bar is doing, now, but it used to be a fairly hopping place.

The sign....I'm liking the 16 oz steaks offered. 

This old truck caught my eye!  Not just the color, either; there's something about where it was parked and its form...

This is a picture of the corner of Grand and Main Street.  I kind of chuckled, because both of those street names seem to evoke ideas of population and big things in a town.  It's pretty quiet, here.

The hotel sign, with the edge of the buttes in the back ground.  I'm not sure if the hotel is still open; it was a few years ago, and at an incredible bargain of something like $35 + tax per night. 

This old building is also on the corner of Grand and Main, and the style is very intriguing to me.  I can't tell if it was a home or some sort of business.

Closer look....see the dormer? Curious....

I'd like to return, with my good camera, and get details.

It was middle of the day, with awful light and a terrible camera...bleh! 

I know my cousin Brett reads the Chronicles, and perhaps he can fill us in on the finer points of some of these images. 

As I was taking the pictures, I thought of my friend Mark who writes the Daily Montana blog I enjoy so much.  This would be right up his alley!

The Empire Cafe

This is Part II of the Central Montana Fair experience, but that last post was exhausting, both to the reader and the author! 

I took the kids to the Empire Cafe for breakfast, with their blessing, because as Maggie put it: "McDonalds really isn't all that good, is it Mom?"
Amen, child! 

Breakfast at the Empire is like this:

The waitress is a gramma-like person, bustling and busting her butt for the coffee crowd, who come in (and I'm not kidding) at straight up 8 a.m.  We got there around 7:50, so we got a table and her full attention for 10 minutes.  I wanted to hug the waitress, and honestly, she probably would've not thought it strange...it's that homey there. 

There's nothing pre-fab or glossy about the Empire.  When our waitress brought coloring pages for the kids, they were carefully chosen for each, having been torn out of coloring books behind the counter.  For Maggie, there was a fashionable picture of ladies with frou-frou dogs.  For Angus, simple Mickey Mouse pictures.  Perfect.  You could tell they came from two different coloring books and that she'd nailed down their preferences when we walked in the door. 

This is a place where the omelettes are made such that the egg wrapping the ingredients within is an after-thought. The link sausages are as big as kielbasa, requiring only one per order; the most wonderful breakfast sausage I've ever had...not fatty at all, just good pork and spices.  The pancakes are soft on top, with a little crust on the bottom that ensures they don't fall apart when the syrup weakens them.  The hashbrowns are done just right...crispy AND soft. 

The picture on the wall beside us was the Golden Eagles FFA Chapter, 2009.  To the left, a 2011 Golden Eagles cheerleader poster; to the right, a MidRivers Communications wall calendar with a view of (again) Ekalaka, Montana.

The old gentlemen at the table ahead of me ordered coffee, big surprise to no one, even though the waitress courteously asked if they wanted to think about something more.  (I'm guessing they'd already had their oatmeal at home, with the Mrs., and would eventually order an egg and toast by the time 10 a.m. rolled around.)  They then proceeded to interview the one designated representative who had attended the Central Montana Fair, the night before.  The attendee was sitting in the middle and warmed right to the task.  He gave quite a detailed review of the rodeo, including the saddle bronc re-ride that was PAINFULLY slow to half-heartedly buck out of the chute after two tries. He also informed them that there were no rides at the carnival to speak of and really, the only one worth taking a glance at was the ferris wheel. (Keep in mind the gentleman was 82, if he was a day, and an escalator at Neiman Marcus would probably have taken his breath away.)  The others leaned in while he was giving his scathing review, then leaned back in their old cafe chairs collectively, with sighs, shaking their heads over how the fair had gone to hell in a handbasket since 1968.  I wanted to hug them, too; they were that dear.  But I couldn't let on like I'd heard them.

When we went to the counter, to pay for our mountains of food ($18.75 and the coffee was free!), they were just starting in on politics and it sounded to be a long coffee hour or two.  Deliciously indignant about the state of the union, they were on their second carafe of decaf, and picking up steam.

We paid for our food, thanked the waitress and she beamed at the $5 tip (I HAD to...you know she wasn't going to make much on the parsimonous political commentators.) and then asked if the kids could have a treat, which startled us all!  Well, sure.  From underneath the counter, she pulled a big old container of lollypops and assorted tooth rotting confections and told the kids to pick one.  They delightedly pulled Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pops out and left the cafe with sticky, happy smiles.

Maggie said, on our way to the car, "You're right, Mom.  That IS the best place in the world for breakfast!"

It really is, child.  It really is!

*Postscript:  We ate breakfast around 8 a.m.. It's now 5 p.m., I've had nothing else to eat all day because I was so satisfied from breakfast, and still not a bit hungry.  Considering my breakfast cost about $6.75 and it's kept me good for three meals worth, it's an astonishing good deal! 

Central Montana Fair 2011

Against all sound reason and intelligence, I decided once again to take the kids to the Lewistown Fair.  You'll remember last year that Maggie bit a Waterman child, I lost Angus at NIGHT at the carnival, we almost died of heat exhaustion...all those great memory-making moments that everyone says I'll look back on and laugh, but really were awful. Still are awful; there's no cotton candy coating it.

On the way to the fair, I was wondering why I continue to try to do this, why I try to make this a tradition when it's really only important to me and not anyone else. 

Well, I'll tell you why.

We got to the fair when everything was just starting to wake up, on Thursday.  The vendors were uncovering wares, the food stands were starting their grills, 4-Hers were still all clean and pressed before showing, the carnival workers were still tired from the night before so they weren't all that excited about pressing us into playing games to win lousy blowup alien dolls. Mamas with little kids were there, because it was cool and not yet naptime.  Old folks were there, checking out Mrs. Matovich's hollyhock entry or Mr. Johnson's shocking shock of corn, having coffee at the Methodist booth and a piece of pie as well.  It was just as a county fair should be. 

As the day went on, more people showed up...mostly farm and ranch people, because everyone else is still at work for the most part, I think.  One of the best things about Montana, for a native Montanan, is that people are always trying to find a connection between you and them.  When the kids and I sat down at a table with our Methodist hamburgers and hotdogs, a retired couple started visiting with us and we discussed the merits of country schools and ranch life.  The old gentleman owned a jewelry store on Main in Lewistown, having sold the ranch a few years ago to settle in comfortably to town life.  The lady (with a dandy sun hat and sweet, round cheeks that made me want to pat them) had been a kindergarten teacher for 35 years and was particularly taken with Angus. Everyone is particularly taken with Angus, so that was no surprise.  But they knew Weedings, from the Jordan country.  There was the connection.

This happened time and again, people pleasantly saying hello, commenting on the nice weather for the fair or my filthy-but-adorable (?) children, then introducing themselves and trying to find that connection.  An absolute sweetheart of a girl about Maggie's age...red hair, freckles on creamy skin, grubby knees, serious AND smiling, all at the same time...befriended my kids on the roller coaster and escorted them to the very best of the carnival rides for about half an hour, while I stood and held the plastic blue blowup alien and dolphin that they'd "won", sweating and thinking about funnel cakes. 

There's the rodeo.  I took my kids to the rodeo; their first ever!  Isn't that crazy?  For a woman whose email is "chuteboss"?  It's a darn shame, is what it is! 

Anyway, around 6 p.m., the rodeo crowd shows up for the 7 o'clock show...and we (I include myself in this insanity) all decide, frantically, that we MUST eat before we watch the rodeo.  This is a tricky situation, because if you stand in line for food, you lose the option of good seats.  But if you get good seats, you might not get any of that wonderful Grass Range Boosters' taco salad.  Oh, the dilemma!  People like me found their seats and parked their kids to save them, admonishing them not to move a muscle, and catching the eye of the old couple sitting behind them with the understanding that if the children were awful, they should thump 'em with thier cane.  It works.  The retirees have entertainment for the 45 minute wait, the kids have chaperones unbeknownst to them, I can elbow my way back through the famished crowd for (and this is the exact order of my family) cheese pizza, a hotdog, chips, lemonade and if I could manage it, I could balance a cheeseburger for myself on top.  Maybe.

It took 20 minutes.

The kids were still there, being good from the tops of their frazzled little heads to the bottom of their filthy little toes.  The older couple looked bemused, still, and all was good and right. 


They ingested the food in about 5.9 seconds, washed 'er down with more lemonade than I thought possible, and started asking when the rodeo was going to start. 
We still had...20 minutes, according to the announcer. A veritable YEAR of waiting, to a 7 and 5 year old!


I was busy watching people, and it was a good show.  Families with kids of all ages, Hutterites speaking their German and laughing, old cowboys, young cowboys, little bitty cowboys in the making, girls with more rhinestones than Dolly on her best day, former native Lewistownians who came home for the fair wearing college shirts and/or Keens, teenagers that didn't want to be there but didn't want to miss anything so they were texting their friends to tell them how lame the rodeo scene was, National Guardsmen, some tourists that I'm guessing were from California or maybe Missoula, neighbors that held up traffic on the grandstand to talk about haying, and the list goes on.  (This was just the rodeo crowd.  It gets much stranger on the other side of the grandstand, when the darkness falls over the fairgrounds and the midway comes alive.)

The rodeo itself was great!  It's NRA sanctioned and most of the cowboys and cowgirls are fairly local...if you can call Ekalaka local to Lewistown. The bareback horses were snaky, just as they should be. The bulldogging was pretty much a loss, with only two steers dogged...the rest either out ran the bull dogger's horse or slammed on the brakes about 10 feet out of the chute and the guys blew past them leaving no forwarding address.  Good calf ropers, all. (They call it tie-down roping, but I grew up with calf-roping.  Is that a southern thing that they changed to?  I don't know.) We got all bogged down when it got to the barrel racing (as usual, in a rodeo) and ended up leaving after the team roping, which I INSISTED we watch, but the kids were twirling like tops in their seats so it wasn't fun for anyone. 

After a couple rides in the dark, with all the sparkly lights, we got a Tiger's Paw, a big honkin' piece of fry bread coated with our choice of powdered sugar, cinnamon sugar or honey.  It was glorious and sticky and heavy and fried...the bow on top of our fair experience...and staggered to the car. 

Curtains on the fair.
It was a good one.
We'll be back next year!


*Picture of kids and Alien, the alien (Angus is not really great with original names....) at Winnett, on the way home.  Even the alien looks tired...

How my garden does grow...

I have a few readers who really ARE into gardening, and I feel obliged (delighted) to keep them updated on the seasons in my yard.  These pictures are ALREADY 10-14 days old!  *sigh*

Without further ado...

Gaillardia (Indian Paintbrush) in front of salvia (Russian, Traci...*big wink*)

I love these two together...they're so bold! Very "July in the garden"...

And the birdhouse I love, but apparently no birds feel the same way...

Not one look, or even a perch, for heaven's sake!

(They will, however, build and rebuild and rebuild a nest in the end of our rain gutter. Pish!)

Ah, ladybug...looking a little bedraggled, so I'm assuming Maggie got there before me.

Forellenschluss!  See, Fontie? Spotted trout lettuce is the prettiest thing in my raised beds; thank you!

Except, perhaps, the ruffly lettuce sitting beside it...that's awfully pretty, too...

Happy faced little pansies, early in the morning.

Do you remember the movie The Sound of Music?  And the song Edelweiss?

"...every morning you greet me; small and white, clean and bright, you look happy to meet me!"

Well, these are purple, but I think they're still happy to meet me.

This was a happy accident, letting a hollyhock grow in this particular bed.  I hope to repeat it next year, because it's simply stunning, in structure and color...

What do you think?

Nasturtiums just GLOW, especially against cilantro!

Here she is, again...

Alcea, you bring a smile to my heart!

We have grasshoppers so thick that they jump in waves in front of the lawn mower.  That is not an exaggeration.  I probably won't have much left after this week, except the tiny little tomatoes that I am praying over, daily.  WHY do they stay green so eternally long? It's not easy, being green!  So turn red or yellow or purple, or whatever color I planted but can't remember.

How is YOUR garden growing?

Bigfork

I know you're all wondering, but are too polite to ask, where I've been. Well, except Homer who could stand the suspense no more and wrote me a "Where ARE you?" email. (See? Someone misses me...)

The kids and I loaded up the Trailblazer and drove west to Bigfork, MT to visit family/friends. 

Dear friends that became family a long time ago and we've forgetten that we're not blood relatives, you know.

In the movie, While You Were Sleeping, Sandra Bullock's boss exasperatedly tells her, "Lucy! You're BORN into a family!  You don't just join one...like the Marines..."

Well.

I beg to differ.

And here we are, Grandpa Jasper, Grandma Celestia and the crew.

We really just drove there, settled in and proceeded to sleep, eat, play and sun, repeat; for 4 1/2 days!

That being the case, there really aren't a lot of tourist-y, vacation-y photos of the whole trip.

There ARE wonderful pictures of laid back, good times for your enjoyment!

Jaspers live on the edge...and I mean RIGHT on the edge...of an airport/runway. Now you'd think it would get noisy and annoying, but it's really quite fun, with each plane getting a wave and goodluck wishes.  There isn't a huge amount of action, most of the time, but Monday, before we left to come home, there must've been eight planes that took off before noon!  That's a lot of waving...

On to the water sports!  The kids got big water pumps for their birthdays and it was SO much fun to chase around, trying to soak each other.

Please note: appropriate swimwear!!!  It's a big deal.

 I love this picture of Celestia! And that's how we spent most of the afternoons...

I don't know if you can read the title on this book; it made me laugh!

Come Out of the Kitchen: A Romance

Well, heck yeah!

I read a LOT...and that was a gift, because I haven't been reading much, lately.

You might wonder why I'm posting a picture of a percolater...besides thinking that I've gone over the edge with my coffee love.  Frank Jasper, Celestia and Jasper's oldest son, and I worked that poor old pot over, removing the coffee oils from all the crannies and when we got done, it was so beautiful that I had to take a picture! It's home-y, to me.

Meet Frank...he's going to law school in Missoula, but drove up to visit on Sunday.  It was good to have a brother to fight with... :)

I have some more pictures on my phone that I'll put up as soon as I get them transferred over, but really, this is what it was!

I love summer.

Horse Crazy

What is it about horses that can make ordinarily rational, conservative people just a little nuts?  Not a bad sort of crazy, really; just a little on the "what the heck?" side of it.

Little girls, for some reason, are always nuts for horses.  I don't think I've ever encountered one that hasn't at one point gone through a little period of horse love.  And not just country girls, although they have it bad.  My daughter is no exception.  This year, for her birthday, she wanted a Breyer horse and a diary that locked. (More on the diary, later...) She's given up asking for a REAL horse for every birthday, Christmas, Groundhog's Day, etc. and resorted to the model horses. 

In the box, there was a nifty "magazine"/catalog about Breyer horse models, designed to encourage the collecting and appreciation of the figurines.  Things like which models are most desirable to own, books and model sets, and how to take your model horse to a horse show and win.

I had to come to a screeching halt when I read about the model horse shows. 
This is where the "crazy" part comes in.
Let me share an excerpt from the magazine:

Did you know that you can compete in judged competitions with your model horses, in many of the same ways people compete with their real horse?
Model horses compete in "halter" and "performance" divisions.  The halter classes have a separate division and classes for each horse breed (and sometimes color classes).
How do you judge 50 Breyer Arabians, when several copies of the same model/color may be in the class? It comes back to those subtle differences in painting and finish quality. A judge may note that one bay Arabian is darker and more richly shaded than the others and give that the edge.

I mean to tell you, folks; this is SERIOUS.
It gets better.
More from the magazine:

Performance showing (and I wondered how this was possible) is possibly the most interesting, fun and interactive part of model horse showing.  This is where you can put all those wonderful Breyer tack and accessory items you've been gathering to the test!
Shows are typically divided into English, Western and Other performance; each division has classes in each type of event you'd see at a horse show.  You bring your model to the table when the class is called, with well-fitted tack and appropriate obstacles or props.  The goal is to portray in miniature a "stop-motion" phase of the event.  The judge will grade the class on accuracy, tack fit, proper placement/action and more.

I'm my father's daughter and I didn't know whether to be horrified or completely amused.  Perhaps horrifically amused. Apparently, this is a big, honking deal across the U.S.!  Now, I'm as competitive as the next girl about...well, everything...but I'm not sure I could show up at one of these shows with my little plastic horse and seriously get worked up about winning my division and class.  And you KNOW there are adults there that are entering, trying to kick some little 10 year old's plastic horse around the block with their obviously superior, darker, more richly shaded plastic horse. 

Sheesh.

And then, last night, I watched the movie "Secretariat". 
What a GREAT movie!  

If you have not seen it, I urge you to hustle on over to Netflix or your library and find a copy. I want to own it, and I only say that about maybe 10 movies in as many years. I don't know if it was the housewife, believing in a dream that came to fruition after blood, sweat and tears, or if it was the horse that really ran the Belmont in a time that has still been unmatched, or what, but it was very, very good.  You don't even have to be crazy about horses to appreciate the story!

H2O

The annual Water Babies photos that you all wait for are here!

They tell the story better than I ever could...enjoy!

*Note: These children DO have swimming suits AND regular clothes.  And I encourage the use of garments.  However, by the time I'm aware of the goings on in the sprinkler or calf trough, it's usually too late.

For kids who don't wear clothes, they sure make a lot of laundry, though...

Shoe-veniers 2011

Some of you know that every summer I go to a summer conference for school clerks and business officials to learn about such fascinating things as GASB 54, indirect costs, reportable compensation, garnishments(Which have nothing to do with food, sadly; garnishes do. A distinction that I will remember from here on out...) and if we're really lucky, pivot tables.  I adore pivot tables.  I ask for them every year, on the evaluations.  I get a pivot table class about every 3 years.  This proves that they DO read the evals, OR that it's good to be friends with the president of the organization, pictured here:

Yes.

That's our fearless leader for 2010-11; he's now a MAS-Been, a PAST President.

(Incidently, I DID ask for permission to post this picture and recieved a rather ambiguous "I won't give you permission, but I won't forbid it...")

Usually, what happens at MASBO stays at MASBO, but this picture was too good to sit on, you know?

The theme of the conference was based on our Thursday evening entertainment, a Beatles impersonation band, Imagine. They wore dreadful wigs, brilliant costumes, used horrible British accents and were GREAT singers and entertainers! Look again at the picture above and you'll get an idea of the wigs.  Dear me...

Anyway, that's all you get about THAT.

The other thing I do, when I go to summer conference, is to buy shoe-veniers.  It started when I went to my first conference in Butte and had nothing to go with anything.  (Does this sound familiar? Twenty pairs of shoes and nothing works! *men rolling their eyes, thinking of their three pair: brown, black and tennis*)  I found a pair of very sensible red thong heels that go with everything!  But it was so much fun to get shoe-veniers that I made it my own little tradition. 

This years shoe-veniers?

Behold!

When I wear them, I'm six foot tall and bullet-proof.

Aren't they the bomb?!?!

*men rolling eyes, etc., etc.*

Every woman should make it a point to get shoe-veniers, at least once a year! 

And that's my report for MASBO Summer Conference 2011.

"Do you have chopsticks?"

A week and a half ago, I took the kids to Billings to go swimming and visit our friends Shannon, Jessie and Nicky Bray.  We stayed in a motel, splashed in the water for hours, ate pizza, visited until midnight, splashed again...such fun! 

It was sad, to say goodbye in the parking lot, and as we were pulling out, I asked the kids where they wanted to eat.  They were sort of half-heartedly tossing out chicken nugget places and NONE of us wanted to go to any of them.  Maggie asked me where I wanted to eat, and I said, "Someplace different...maybe Chinese."   There was an eruption of delight in the backseat!  YES! CHINESE!!!

My kids have never eaten Chinese, but they were certainly ready to give it a go. 

We were on the West end of Billings and the only Chinese restaurant I know of in that area is The Jade Palace; I was pretty sure they had a buffet, so that's where we went.  The Jade Palace is charmingly built in the style of a big old pagoda, stone lions out front, round doors in the entry; it looked EXACTLY like what they thought a Chinese restaurant should! 

We skipped across the parking lot, and Angus trotted ahead to open the doors for us.  It was all he could do, because they were HEAVY, but my little man finally got the first door open and held it as Maggie and I entered.  He was so proud!  I was so proud!  Maggie was unimpressed, because it was taking entirely too long to get into the building...

When we finally made it to the counter, the kids put their sweaty little paws on it, with noses between and excitedly asked the host, "Do you have chopsticks?!".  The host was a Chinese gentleman about 65 years of age...very solemn...and he confirmed that the restaurant did, indeed, have chopsticks.  Maggie then put her hands together in front of her face and bowed to him.  Oh, yes.  She did.  He was startled, as was I, and once we'd recovered, he showed us to our table. I told him, on our way, that this was the first time my kids had had Chinese; I'm sure this came as no surprise.

Took us awhile to get to the table, because he seated us about 1/2 mile from the counter; as far away from him and any other potential customers as possible.  This suited all of us, because I truly had no idea what to expect from the kids.  Before we sat down, Maggie once again did her rather dramatic Chinese bow, and this time she got a slight one in return.  Oh, dear...

We had the buffet, of course, and the kids were very brave, trying nearly every dish.  They were particularly entranced with the sweet and sour chicken and the green jello in the salad bar.  Bright, shiny, colorful; Chinese food is fun!

Back at the table, they tore into the food with chopsticks, impatiently moving forks to the side.  Angus stabbed and Maggie scooped.  It was so entertaining for me to watch that I didn't eat much right at first, although the food was pretty tasty...in a generic way.  Angus had noodles all the way down his shirt, sauce on his chin.  Maggie fought with the rice.  She loves rice, but this rice wasn't sticky enough to grab or scoop with chopsticks, so she finally had to resort to a spoon, much to her disappointment. 

The waitress we had was very kind and at the end of our meal brought not only the requisite fortune cookies and tea, but also take home bags for the kids with 5 more fortune cookies each AND take-home chopsticks!  Thrills!

Maggie took the fortunes very seriously.  Hers said she was destined to be a leader of some sort. (As if we didn't know that already!)  When we ran errands, later, she informed anyone who would listen that she was going to be a leader but she didn't know of what. Hmmm...

When we went to pay the bill, the seating host was oddly nowhere to be seen...
Very curious....

We took time to visit the stone lions out front and I thought to take a couple pictures with my phone.  I wish I had done that inside, but in a way, it was more fun to just experience the whole thing without stopping to do that. 

One of the lions had a red, rubber ball in its mouth that they couldn't get out.  Maggie made up several stories as to how it got there and Angus was really hoping for blood of some sort, but nothin'.

For Marisa, with much love...

Here you are, my dear friend.  The world's best sugar cookie recipe that I've been jealously guarding, thinking that maybe if you knew how to make these at home on your own, that you wouldn't need our friendship anymore! 

I remembered, this morning, that you are now the mother of an infant and a toddler, and that these cookies were MY medication during naptimes, along with a large cup of thick French Roast coffee. 

Use it for good, and not evil...

Anyone who holds this recipe and perfects the making of it, surely holds great power and sway with others.

And now I pass the power on to you!

(And, it would seem, the other 70 readers of the Chronicles...)

Not-So-Secret Sugar Cookies

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Cream together until smooth:

1 cup REAL butter, softened

1 1/2 cups white sugar

Add and beat until light:

1 egg

1 teaspoon REAL vanilla extract

Gradually blend in well:

2 3/4 cups all purpose flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp. baking powder

Roll rounded teaspoons of dough into balls and roll in granulated sugar, as you would for a gingersnap.

Place on ungreased cookie sheets and bake until JUST done.

(THIS is the tricky part, and where I can't help you...you just have to figure it out.  The recipe says 8-10 minutes, and that's too long.  They have to be just barely done, crinkled on top, but not yet golden on the edges.  If you bake them until they have a hint of gold, they'll be too done.  These cookies are best when chewy, and that takes a while to figure out with your oven. As you know, I go by smell...when I can just smell the sugar cookie essence.  It's tricky.)

(Sadly, you may have to make recipe after recipe to figure this out...)

There now...wasn't that easy?

After a while, you can make them from memory, which is handy when you go to a friend's house and need to do an emergency sugar cookie intervention/infusion.

Makes 4 dozen / feeds 2 moms who get together for coffee and sanity.