Christmas 2012

So very strange...
I didn't take many pictures this Christmas at all.  Christmas Eve, I just enjoyed the company and food, happily watched the kids open their presents and visited into the night with Joni and Sparky.  I didn't take pictures of the more memorable gifts from PopPop Vern and Grandma Naomi, although I certainly should have!  Would you believe Angus got a big gallon Ziplock bag of mixed nuts and an industrial strength nutcracker which he and PopPop tried out on the buffet table later in the evening.  I'm not joking!  We're STILL finding teeny pieces of walnut shells!  And Maggie got a "boombox" radio/cd player with a very lovely cd of Disney songs that have been murdered by the likes of Justin Bieber, most notably the Jungle Book song, "Trust In Me".   Auntie Dawn sent a rocket launcher and two rockets. (She still hasn't forgiven us for sending the assorted percussion instruments to her kids, many years ago...) She also sent a big honking  rabbit puppet that freaked the cat out and raised excited discussion among the hunters as to whether it would work in tandem with the Merry Christmas Coyote Call they so thoughtfully purchased for themselves earlier in the month. Speaking of the hunters, they both got street signs that said, "BFF Blvd", because they ARE BFFs, you know.

I took a couple pictures on Christmas morning that I'll share with you, though...

Christmas exploded in our living room...
(Note the unambitious Irish Sitter on the couch. She's so lazy that she won't even get off the sofa for food unless she's POSITIVE it's going to be GOOD food...not junk like rice or cold cereal.  That's not even worth opening her eyes for...)

See the kitty cat in the upper right hand corner?  Elizabeth sincerely mistrusted the electric train.  It looked dangerous (why was no one else worried?) and it suspiciously kept going in the exact same circle over and over and over.

From a cat's vantage, it DOES look sort of scary.

I think she was hypnotized.  Elizabeth refused to come down off the couch and she couldn't stop watching the train.

"Did someone say bacon?"
(Opened her eyes a teensy bit to see if I was flim-flamming her, which I was, of course...)

The last straw was the rabbit who attacked the cat (tried to "kiss" her)!

Maggie dressed exactly like her new doll, waiting to go to Cowboy PopPop's house.

We loaded up after the guys got done feeding and drove to Dad's to spend the rest of the day eating. 

No, really....we spent nearly six hours there and most of the time we had food in our hands or on plates.  And it was GOOD food.

See?

Here's Zee Honorable and Most Exalted Chef, explaining how he instructed his sous chefs in the proper way to prepare the turkey AND the ham.  Without his tutelage, it would have been inedible, I'm sure.  We were fortunate he was around to keep things squared away and truly appreciated the excellent results.

(We Duttons are pretty serious about food. We're positively obsessed with GOOD food. We read cookbooks like novels and discuss recipes in detail.)

The pretty ham, covered in pineapple and cloves. Dad got it in Miles City at a butcher who removes the bone and re-rolls the meat making it easy to slice (but no ham bone for beans the next week seems like such a let down.)

Cranberries, the Thai cabbage salad and pretty veggies...

It's just so beautiful, the shapes and vibrant colors!

Waiting (not so patiently) for the grub.
And no, Maggie's not having wine! She's a straight milk girl.
(Yes, Grandma IS drinking wine, but she had it in a regular glass. It was disgraceful how many times she had to refill it...) ;)  Just teasing, Grandma!

And after a spectacular meal, complete with TWO different pies, REAL whipped cream and the exploration of the topic "What would you do if you won the really, really...REALLY big lottery?" , the Jenga game came out.  

You have to hold your mouth j-u-s-t right...

Grammy Karen has magic fingers!

It was a wonderful day!

Giggles!

Another Christmas card you won't see anywhere but here on the Chronicles...
They were tickling each other!

Fat Pete's Fudge

For my friends who like chocolate and peanut butter, together.

(I would think that would be ALL my friends, because the combo is heavenly!)

I don't know who Pete is, but I know why he's fat. 

And bless his heart, he shared the secret with US! 

I'll give you a minute to recover from the swoon...

In fact, go get a cup of coffee.  You'll need it, just reading the ingredients.  I promise you.

Ready?

INGREDIENTS:

2/3 cup butter 4 1/2 cups white sugar 1 (12 fluid ounce) can evaporated milk 2 (7 ounce) jars marshmallow creme

16 ounces chocolate candy (such as Hershey's®) 2 1/2 cups milk chocolate chips 2 cups peanut butter (optional)

DIRECTIONS:

1.

Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan. Set aside.

2.

Bring butter, sugar, and evaporated milk to a boil in a saucepan over medium heat. Boil for 5 to 7 minutes, then remove from heat and quickly stir in the marshmallow cream, chocolate candy, and chocolate chips, until the chocolate has melted and is fully incorporated. Pour chocolate mixture into the prepared baking pan. Dot the top of the fudge with peanut butter. Swirl a knife through the fudge and peanut butter to create a marble effect. Cover and refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour. Cut into squares for serving.

This makes a HUGE batch of milk chocolate/peanut butter fudge, which is good, because if you're going to give it as gifts, you'll still have plenty to sample at home.  As in...you'll have an easy 1/2 lb. after dividing it for the mailman, UPS guy, hairdresser, every neighbor you ever said "hi" to, random strangers on the sidewalk...

It looks like too much of everything, but I'm telling you, it's PERFECT.  

Merry Christmas!

(Now come pick up your sample of Fat Pete's and have a cup of coffee with me.)

For Anne

...because she asked me to put this on my blog.
Actually, she wanted an instructional video, but that would have required me to find my video camera, charge it, figure out a tripod or steady handed small child who is not easily distracted, shoot several takes while talking like I'm on a cooking show, download, edit, figure out YouTube AND write a blog post with that video embedded in it.

Instead, my dear, you got this:

A photo step-by-step that you can access any time in the "foodie" section of the Chronicles.

How The Farmer's Wife Cuts Up A Pineapple

(WAY easier than cutting up a chicken...)

Step One: Gather your tools (sharp knife and good cutting board), a bag for disposing the stuff you cut off, and of course, the doomed pineapple.

Step Two: (It sounds brutal, but it must be done...) Lob its little top knot off and put that in the bag.  You won't be able to finish if you leave it on the counter, a reminder of your heartless act.

Step Three: Halve the pineapple lengthwise, right down the middle.  You should end up with two pieces that look like this:

Step Four:  Cut each of THOSE in half, lengthwise, so you now have quarters, like so:

Step Five: With one long lengthwise cut, take the core and nasty little end off each quarter. (I usually stand it up on the cutting board, then cut downward.  I seem to have more control that way.  Sort of.) Toss the core in the bag with the top knot.  Try not to think about it.

Step Six: Now we're going to score the quarter; first, cut lengthwise all the way to the skin, but don't cut through.

Step Six cont.:  Then, cut across the fruit so you have a nice square-ish pattern.  This is where I make bad jokes about how I can score but the Dallas Cowboys can't.  Anyway.  Moving on...

Step Seven:  (And this was impossible to photograph...I'm sorry!)  Hold the scored pineapple over the bowl and carefully sliding your blade next to the skin, cut all those little squares away from it into the bowl.

Step Eight: You should end up with something like this skin and little chunks of pineapple that look like the little one by the skin.  Don't be afraid to go back and cut deeper if you've left some good pineapple there.  Then, toss the skin in the bag with the core and the top knot. By now you should be hardened to the sight, so you can repeat the whole quarter processing with the remaining quarters.

Step Nine:  In the end, you'll have a lovely blood-free bowl of pineapple pieces that are fairly uniform, a bag of pineapple parts, and it will have taken you about 8 minutes from start to finish.

Step Ten:  Go get the blender, rum and ice...

Voila!

Something "light"...

(I struggle with post titles, can you tell?)
It's no secret that I read like I breathe, that our house is insulated by a nice layer of books on shelves and that....

True Confession #372:

I am a book snob.
(I may have confessed this before. I lose track.)

I don't know when this happened, because I read Danielle Steele in high school and freely admitted it in public. (*sigh* This post is chock-full of confessions...watch for 'em.) I bought paperbacks from the grocery store and *gasp!* left them laying around for all the world to see, even loaning them to friends!  (NO, they weren't Harlequins. Think John Grisham, Tess Gerritson or Robert Ludlum.)

I'm thinking it must have been in college sometime that I got snobby about books.  I didn't want to waste my reading time on anything that wasn't going to better me in some way.  In fact, now that I write this, I KNOW it was the summer philosophy class with a rather laid back professor who assigned an excellent reading list, then took our class out under the big old trees on campus to discuss the deeper meanings of the books and life.  I was never really satisfied with fluff writing after that.  (Except for Patrick McManus, who doesn't really qualify as fluff because he uses incredible words that add to my vocabulary every time I read his work.)  I wanted MEATY reading!  Reading that was worth my time!  Material that I could chew on, discuss, examine and argue over!

I became the worst sort of book snob, too.
I waded into "claahhh-sics, daaahhh-ling" and non-fiction, and seldom looked back.
I was (and still am, I think) a dud at a cocktail party when it came to contemporary reads...especially fiction.
Picture me, standing with a group of women, holding my dirty martini and trying to figure out how to tie Les Miserables in to the Fifty Shades of Grey conversation...
(THIS is why I'm better at parties with football.)

Fortunately, all was not lost.
Even book snobs can be rehabilitated.
Yes!
One day, after finishing a particularly snooty conversation with my sister about my disdain for popular, contemporary fiction, she quietly (and wisely) pointed out to me: "Maybe there's a REASON everyone is reading it..."
You ever have one of those cast-iron-frying-pan-upside-the-head-humility moments?

I also have friends who require me to read contemporary books.  It's a mutual growth thing...I've opened up the world of non-fiction to them, they've lured me into contemporary (soft-cover, yet!) fiction, we sweeten the deal with wine and appetizers...

And THAT is how I ended up reading the book whose image you see at the top of this post.  It's THE most popular book in the U.S. right now, across the board, because men AND women are buying it and reading it, talking about it, gasping and so forth.  I own a hard cover copy.  Of the most popular contemporary book on the NYT bestseller list...!  (This is big, folks.  THIS is growth.)

I'm not going to give you a summary or review or anything.  It would be impossible, really.  This is what I want to say about the book:
Buy the hardcover, because the book itself is a work of art....foiled stars that glow in lamplight when you lay it aside to get another glass of wine, end papers that are copies of a real lighthouse keeper's log book, graceful font...it's a beauty.  Then, when you're done admiring it and congratulating yourself for purchasing such a pretty book, open it up and prepare to devote the rest of the day to living it; prepare to be raw and tender, even if you are a hardened, cynical reader like me.  Make sure you have a friend read it simultaneously, because you'll NEED to talk about it...you won't be able to help yourself.  Understand that you'll be thinking of it for days thereafter.

I recommend you also find yourself a good cocktail party, because you're gonna rock this time!

Caution! Potentially Inflammatory Post!

I might get beat up on the playground for this, but...

In a little community like the one where I live, our lives are intertwined, whether we want them to be or not.  I think of it like a piece of embroidery that looks all neat and nice on the right side, but when you flip it over and look at the other side, you see all those threads tangled up with each other.  It's still beautiful, but you realize there's more than first meets the eye.

Same thing in little communities...on the nice side, everybody helps their neighbors (for the most part), potlucks are a good time, men's open gym night turns into poker night and we can read the Christmas story from the book of Luke in the Bible at our school play without worry of a picket line forming.  On the messy side, we sometimes end up knowing too much about each other, start to compete in pie wars, stew about little things that anyone outside of the community would laugh at, and take everything personally.  (Last year, when Susie Milam's pie made more money at the silent auction, I took it personally. Don't laugh!  It's a big deal, here!)  :)

The odd thing about that is that you'd think people who live 20 miles apart and can't even see the big yard  lights of their neighbor's house would not have such issues.  If I wanted to keep up with the Jones', I'd have to get in my car, drive over 6 miles of gravel and mud, pull into their yard (it's not like you can circle the block surreptitiously), gawk at their Christmas lights, wave goodbye (vowing in my heart to out-light them) and drive back.  What's more is that no one would see the 800 EXTRA twinkling lights I added to MY display, unless they did the same thing....seriously!  (I do, however, get comments when my flamingos are failing at the mailbox. I don't take that personally.  Flamingos make the Two Furrow a nicer place to drive, so I just replace them.) 

It's trickier than that.

It's having a barbecue and not putting up a General Invitation to Everyone in the post office.  

It's trying to keep a vasectomy a private matter when everyone wants to know why in the world you're going to town in the middle of the week without a horse trailer.

It's going to a beauty shop, not because you necessarily like the way they cut your hair, but because it's your Mom's best friend's cousin's daughter and you don't want to upset everyone.  (Even though you may come away with red hair that is a little on the purple side...)

You see where I'm going with this?

It's like Facebook, concentrated down to 50 people.  

Can you imagine?

Even if you don't "post it on your wall", there'll be knowledge of it, true or not, and even if you don't get unfriended, there'll be a little "block status" going on for awhile.  And  you KNOW there'll be "comments".  

We don't all "like" the same things, but we're in the same group, nonetheless.  And it's not a private group, that's for darn sure!

It requires maturity, a sense of humor, strong self-confidence and the ability to let things roll off and roll away.  I guess that's called forgiveness.  I'm glad I grew up in a tiny community with a lot of people like that and I'm glad my kids are growing up in the same such place.  

(I'm also glad our school bus driver doesn't post anything about the outfits I have on when I bring the kids to the bus stop...but that's another topic, best saved for later.)

If you have something to say about what I've just written, please leave a comment on the fridge door, here...I hate it when people talk about my flamingos and Christmas lights behind my back...

I just found this picture while talking to my sister on the phone...I had forgotten I'd even taken it!

The black silhouette glowing in the sun has always mesmerized me.

*sigh*

I miss summer!

Field trip to Jordan...the guy, not the town

Yesterday, the Little School on the Prairie loaded all seven students, one crazy teacher and an even CRAZIER chaperon onto the Little Yellow Schooner and went to Miles City for a field trip.  Here in eastern Montana, there's really no such thing as a short bus ride.  Try 80 miles to the nearest art center. And we were the ones closest to town!  Ross School (one not-at-all-crazy teacher and two students who also happen to be sisters) drove 135 miles from Mosby to join us, for goodness sake!

There's a really great guy at the Custer County Art and Heritage Center (CCAHC) who does projects with our schools tying Indian education with art so they get culture and creativity all in one session.  Jordan (his name causes great confusion in conversation as you can well imagine) somehow manages to come up with projects that work for 6th graders as well as kindergarteners...AND he teaches with patience and kind humor.  We love Jordan.  The guy, not the town.  See?!? It's tricky!

This trip, the kids made rain sticks.
(You should know that Jordan SEEMS like a very nice man, but underneath that polite, thoughtful facade lurks an evil, evil person.  You see, this is the second noise making project they've had in two weeks; last week it was clay whistles.  NEXT time, they're doing drums! Shortly followed, I'm sure, by homemade electric guitars or some other instrument of torture to parents...)
I don't love Jordan for THAT.  The guy, not the town.

For those of you who don't know what rain sticks are:
They're hollow tubes with pins or thorns arranged circularly on the inside.  Into this tube is poured a cup of small, noisy things like rocks or pasta or beans, then it's sealed up and when the tube is tipped, all the little noisy things sound like rain trickling to the other end.  They were supposed to bring rains when the native people used them.  They bring insanity to parents and teachers.

Jordan explaining how to stick hundreds of toothpicks in tubes.  (This is a skill that can be used at home, too! Bless his black heart...)

Tubes make dandy swords, voice whistles and telescopes.  The kids restrained themselves, but they TALKED about the options...

The crazy teacher helping with the weapon...I mean, rain stick...

Jordan had pre-punched holes in the tubes, so it made pushing toothpicks in a bit easier.  It took a LOT of toothpicks and the process allowed for lots of time to visit and come up with ideas for a toothpick filled tube.

When they were finished, the inside of the tubes looked like this:

The ends of the toothpicks were clipped off, disappointingly...

The next step was to fill the tubes with little noisy things that will make an incredible mess if the tube is ever accidentally broken open.
I'm growing less fond of Jordan the more I describe this project.
The guy, not the town.

Hot gluing the ends of the tubes and each little toothpick opening....

Making it rain!
Incidentally, while we were in Mexico Lindo eating lunch, it started raining/snowing!  Obviously, the rain sticks worked...

These are just images of things I saw around the studio while the kids were toothpick-ing...

All that glitters...

...is in our house at Christmas time, I think!
I was smiling, looking through photos this morning, thinking about how every year, the tree seems magical and special, more beautiful than ever...even though it looks basically the same as it has the last 8 years.  The kids are bigger in the pictures, but the tree doesn't really change a lot.  And it's not because we have a fake tree, either.  (Don't get me started on that...)  There's just something about the stars (white lights, of course) being captured in a tree in our HOUSE that just makes me feel delighted every time I look at it.  And between the stars, we hang memories of past Christmases, family and dear ones.  Every ornament has a story, really.  Even the candy canes remind me of how my Dad used to eat the candy canes off our tree when we were kids; not surprisingly, they were sparse by Christmas Eve!

I'm putting pictures up of our tree(s) because a good friend asked for them. I'm sure they look nearly EXACTLY the same as last year's pictures but perhaps that can be endearing and funny, instead of monotonous.
(Work with me, here...)


First, the outside tree:

I did not realize that Maggie's fondest desire at Christmas was to decorate one of our trees outside.  Grandma Celestia knew, though, and sent a box of funny ornaments for the kids to do this project! They hustled out the afternoon before we were to decorate the inside tree and got right to work. I was impressed with how high they were able to hang some of the baubles!

(When we were decorating the inside tree, Angus was inclined to hang his ornaments all in the same square foot.  It was efficient. He didn't waste time walking around the tree, looking for likely spots, you know?  But Maggie gave an exasperated sigh and looked at me conspiratorially,  "He did that outside, TOO!"  Apparently, she tried to school him on the "proper" way to trim a tree, he resented the instruction and stomped off, she rearranged the ornaments, all was set right.  Whew!)

It snowed the next day, making the ornaments even MORE charming!

This one looks almost fake, it's so perfect in its setting!

And now, the inside tree:

The kids chose blue and gold ornaments from our stash this year! It's tough to photograph, but in real life it's very pretty.

The kids keep going back, re-examining the ornaments and asking for the stories...

This is a hand painted ornament by Bette Johnson, a local artist.  My mother-in-law gave us a set of six and they're some of my favorites.

Here's a little ornament I painted to look like my dog, Molly Jo. 

A nutcracker, a reminder of the performance we went to in Bigfork last Thanksgiving.  Its little jaws actually work...Angus checks it repeatedly to make sure!

Our nativity...
the Wise Men are on their way.  During the Advent, they start out far away from the "barn", moving closer every day until the day of Epiphany, in the first week of January.  Ours move rather quickly, usually arriving on Christmas Eve or thereabouts.  Maggie also moved the animals around, placing the cow closest to the manger because cows are so curious and she couldn't imagine a sheep caring for what was in the hay.  She doesn't know what to do with the donkey, so he's hanging out at the end of the book case.

Tuckered out, after decorating TWO trees that day!