Pictures for Grandparents without Face Book!

Very serious about pirates...

Maggie was sick and Molly was being uncharacteristically sympathetic to her!

Very serious about cowboys...

Ice fishing with PopPops in the reservoir with about 3 feet of water!

Maggie LOVED it and was very competitive about catching fish!  Angus thought we should put them back so they didn't die.  He didn't last too long with the project and spent most of his time in the warm pickup, planning cookies and cocoa for the POST-fishing party with Grandma.

Perfect little trout!  We caught seven and then pulled out, because the sun went down and we got COLD!

Disgraceful!

There's no way I'll make up for lost blogging time, so I'll just start here and work backward.  Yes, I'm supposed to be doing 30 more important things, but if I don't take 15 minutes this morning to catch you all up, it'll never happen!  Besides, I just poured a big, ugly cup of coffee with half and half, and THAT shouldn't be wasted while I fold clothes.

So, you all know I get Bon Appetit magazine, right?  My friend Sara subscribes to it for me and every month I bless her generous, foodie heart as I wear the pages out, turning them down on the corners where I want to try a recipe or found a significant wine note.  

This month was a doozy!

Check out the cover:

Seriously...it starts out with PASTA, then the creamiest chocolate mousse, followed by gourmet nachos and a nod to one skillet dinners.

And inside, it's even BETTER!

So, I got the idea that I would profile this month's Bon Appetit magazine this week in my menu for the family.

(Like they care...)

That's right.

I do a weekly menu.

It seems a bit too....organized and well-thought out for a flake like me, huh?

Here's the thing, though; because I'm easily distracted, I often find myself in a panic at 11:20 a.m. wondering what in the world I'm going to feed the guys at noon and how fast bologna might thaw in the microwave! (Not the preferred method of thawing lunchmeat, by the way...)

A weekly menu saves my life.

And my friends and family's life, too.

(You'll note that Sundays are the Farmer's day to cook.  That's because I'm watching football.)

Please don't judge the nutritional balance or lack thereof...it's just a kick off for the main dishes.  I can "accessorize" with sides, later.  

I decided to try one recipe a day, beginning with Chorizo and White Bean Stew, today.  

I bought the artisan bread, and we'll probably have a salad on the side (that the Farmer will slice a steak over), but other than that, it'll be the B. A. recipe.

I'll take a picture and let you know how it turns out!

Next week, Food and Wine profiled!

If you give a man a gun....

he'll need a new scope to go with it.

He'll shop and shop and shop for "the perfect scope", and order it; a smashing deal from the local gun smith/buddy.

When the scope is finally delivered, he'll be SO excited that he'll call all his friends! (Two, total.) His friends will be excited, too, because it's a new gun with the perfect scope!
They'll have to get together to try it out.

If the buddies are coming over to try out the new gun and scope, the man will need more beer.
So, while he's mounting the perfect scope with great precision and nerve-wracking holding of breath, you'll have to go to town to get the beer.  It will not be the right kind, but it will just have to do, because when you return you'll find...

an informal shooting match going on in the back yard!  All the buddies (two, remember) brought THEIR guns to shoot, too!

This will take most of the rest of the daylight hours and nearly all the ammunition.
They'll come in to the house for a beer and "snacks" (full meal) when they're finished.

As they're refreshing themselves, the man will start admiring one of his buddy's guns.  The more he talks about it, the more he realizes...
He NEEDS it. Desperately.

So, for Christmas, you'll give a man a gun...

(Have you read the children's book "If You Give a Pig a Pancake"?  Then you recognize the form of the story!  This is loosely based on real-life events, details changed to make the story work. I would NEVER be able to give a man a gun, because I have no clue whatsoever about them...men OR guns.)

*You can plug in anything and make this story work.  For example, I'm sure Tracileeg could say, "If you give a man a tractor..." and have the same sort of outcome....*

Exercise Spells Happiness

For the last month or so, I've quit running.  Not altogether, but I'm certainly not running every day like I had been; maybe two reluctant runs a week.  It was painful, cold, boring and early.  It was much more pleasant to have another cup of coffee, sit on my ever-widening butt and check out Pinterest. (Which, by the way, is an even bigger time sucker than Facebook; it's like flipping through this HUMONGOUS magazine that never ends.) Also, there was Fat Pete's fudge, appetizers every time I turned around, comfort food for the family during snow storms and...this is the worst...cocktails every evening.  Of course, when one has cocktails (yes, more than one), the motivation to run the next morning at 6 a.m. in the dark and snow is pretty much non-existent.  To top it off, we couldn't seem to get organized to do yoga, so there went that workout.

The Boston 5 pounds had friends over.

And I haven't had my hair done in 6 months.
I'm a mess.

A mess on the mend.

This morning, I woke up pain free for the first time in at least a month!  And I wanted to run. I wanted it in a hungry way.  I NEEDED to run TODAY.

Got the kids fed, lunches packed, dogs situated, coffee made, email checked, then left.

I was sort of creaky.  I felt like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz...happy to be moving, just not moving really all that gracefully or fast.  Okay, I NEVER run all that gracefully or fast, but it was even worse this morning.

I started thinking creatively; planning books, sewing head bands, filing. It's tough to creatively file, so that was a stretch.

My brain was clicking away, my body was creaking away...I hit 3/4 of a mile and realized something:
I was enjoying myself!
It was like seeing an old friend, unexpectedly.
Gosh, it's been a long time since I enjoyed a run; the sunrise and the squeak of the snow under my shoes.
I warmed up, loosened up, lightened up (no more filing in my head) and really enjoyed the run. I kept it to an easy two miles because I was limited by time and also didn't want to break that little magic that had come back.  Now, it's an hour later and my body is STILL thanking me. Mostly because I'm finally drinking coffee, but still...

I don't know why my heart is so stubborn.  I found this last week that the more people talked about fitness goals, whole foods, signing up for marathons, posted workout motivational signs on Facebook,  blah, blah, blah, that instead of wanting to be part of that momentum, I wanted to be the opposite.  I'm sure you find that shocking.

I guess I'm writing this more as an accountability post than anything.  (In case you were wondering where I was going with it...)  I wanted to tell SOMEBODY that I had a good run, an enjoyable run.  I wanted to admit to my sloth, because writing it down makes it impossible to pretend it didn't happen.  I wanted to make sure I remembered where I'm starting from, again.

A mess on the mend.

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!