Feed cows?

When Angus was much younger, he always tried to engage his dad in dinner conversation.  It would go something like this:

"So...how was your day?"
(Dad chews, in his own world...)
"Feed cows?"
(Kick under the table from Mom to Dad's shin...)
"Yep.  Fed cows."

If you were to ask Angus how HIS day went today and what he did, he'd say,
"Fed cows."
And that's what the whole family did this morning...
Feed cows.

Another thrilling blog post from the Farmer's Wife about....wait for it....
COWS!


Hoar frost on the trees and fences when we took off this morning...

Fuzzy barbed wire!

The bully-boys were nearly in the yard, indicating that we were neglectfully late with the grub. (We weren't.)

Little man, loading up...

Ready to go, Mom?

I'm sorry you can't see the utterly disgusted and obviously wronged face of the Irish Sitter, cast out in the snow.  How it's possible to look sad AND disdainful, I don't know, but Twilla's got it nailed.

Molly yells at us and lifts her paws up, one at a time, letting us know how desperately cold it is for good dogs.  Really, she wants to go in the pickup and thinks we should leave the kids home, instead.

Got the boys fed...

Breaking the ice in the bulls' water tank.

Throwing the ice out with a nifty strainer-type shovel....

And here's the pile from days gone by.  It just gets bigger and bigger through the winter!

This is the bunch of cows I run with, occasionally.  They didn't know what to make of me just standing there taking pictures.  There's something fishy about that sort of behavior...

Sneaking a snack before the bale is rolled out.
See the way the numbers are written on those ear tags?  We can usually tell who numbered the tag by the style of writing...I didn't do these tags...maybe Vern, because it looks like his "2"s.

Maggie was so delighted that the cows were rushing the pickup to get the cake!

The cake is neatly dispensed from the feeder mounted on the back of the pickup.  You could run the feeder in the middle of the summer with nothing in it and cows would come running from everywhere.  Kind of like me and an ice cream truck...

Hay.  It's what's for breakfast.

That itty-bitty reddish speck is Sparky's pickup.  He's looking for coyotes. 

Sparky usually accompanies the Farmer during feeding and they discuss guns, call coyotes, break motion sensor cameras, eat jerky, and (I'm certain of it) fart. 

The kids and I seriously cramped their style, this morning.

So we did what any good friend would do and sent one with HIM.
Actually, Angus went first.  This is right after we swapped kids with him.  I think they ate nearly his whole bag of deer jerky. This is fine; most days Sparky eats lunch with us and there aren't many leftovers, if you know what I'm sayin'...

Cow 739 steals cake!  She just boldly steps up to the feeder and fishes out whatever extra cake didn't get dumped with the last bunch.  Cheeky little thing! Well, she's no little thing, having thieved so much cake, but her audacity tickles the heck out of us.

You remember the prettiest cow in Montana, don't you?

Miss Daisy!!!

Let's pause for a moment and appreciate her beautiful bovine features...

(If you happen to run into my father-in-law on the street in Miles City, be sure to comment on how this little cow has improved the Lang's Fork herd, please.  Then take a picture of his face with your Smartphone for me.)

:)

One more...this time with her homely little pals. 

She DOES stand out, doesn't she?

What have we here?

"Mom! Guess what Aaron Carroll and I shot?!?!"

Sharp tail grouse!!!!

Nothing squeamish about this kid...

I had forgotten that sharp tails have hearts on their feathers.  Isn't that lovely?

And their backs look like pineapple!

Sparky and the Farmer, excitedly making plans to find the perfect gun for Maggie!  It's high time the girl had her own firearm!  PAST time!  (New project...this oughta be good.)

One last look at the girls before we head home!

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!