another day, another dollar, another year, still look 15?!?!

That's right, folks.  Next week will be my 27th birthday and just a few weeks ago a good friend of mine told me I could probably pass for 15.  Physically, I don't really feel much different than I did when I was 15, except for a little back pain, but that's been around since 16 when I got dropped a few too many times from the top of the cheerleading pyramid, so whatever.

I've been told that I should embrace looking young and love the fact that people think I'm a kid.  "I will appreciate it when I'm older," they say.  Easier said than done.  This issue has been especially frustrating when I answer the door of my house and a salesperson asks if my mom and dad are home, or when the YMCA told me I couldn't get a family membership without my parents present.  Or when a barista at Starbucks mistook me for being my stepson's sister.  However...now that I think about it, perhaps I could use this to my advantage (wicked, nefarious laughter inside my head).  My 10-year high school reunion is coming up.  It's going to feel damn good when all the dudes I graduated with are rockin' their salt and peppered thinning hair, with their beer guts hanging over their pants (trust, I've seen the pictures on facebook), and I'm carded for drinks, sitting next to my husband who has a nice head of hair.   Yeah.  I think I can make this work for me.

I'm not going to get all corny and say "age is just a number, blah, blah, blah...", because, well, no shit.  But it's for sure a state of mind.  I don't feel like I'm in my late twenties (I'm thinking 27 falls into that category).  Pre-thirties sounds cool.  I mean people say pre-teen, so why not?  Pre- anything sounds better than late- something.  I mean, I'm not gonna lie about it and be one of those freaky women that tells everyone they are 30 for 15 years.  I'm totally okay with my age - ask me, I won't lie.  See, I'm putting it out there for everyone to see.  But whatever.  If people want to think I'm in high school, I think I could have some fun with that.

Happy birthday to me.

Thanksgiving Blessings

All month I have been giving thanks for something different each day.  Such a simple, yet significant task, has reminded me to be grateful for the little and big things in life - and everything in between.  

Some days what you love is staring you in the face.  Other days it's not so easy to find something for which to be thankful.  Sometimes you have to step back and really assess a situation to find the silver lining.  I've learned that out of everything - no matter how seemingly bad - comes something good.  It could be the smile of a stranger after a long day at work, a wonderful home-cooked meal, a long conversation with someone special, photographs and memories, or finding a support system in an unexpected place.  

Though November and the traditional season of giving thanks is coming to a close, I think I will continue to try to be thankful for something new each day.  Today I challenge all of you to do the same thing.

Perfect Pot Roast

I created this recipe several years ago mostly by trial and error, just adding things as I went.  It is so easy - lots of ingredients, but you basically just throw everything in a dish, bake and serve.  It's the perfect dish for this cool, fall weather.

Here is what you will need:
1 beef chuck roast (at least 2 lbs.)
1 package of baby carrots (16 oz.)
1/3 cup chopped white onion
1 bag small red potatoes (size C works well - 2 lb. bag)
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 t rosemary
1/2 t oregano
1/2 t Italian seasoning
1/2 t onion powder
1/2 t garlic salt
2 dashes Tony Chachere's seasoning
1 t freshly ground pepper
1/2 t - 1 t freshly ground sea salt
1 T extra virgin olive oil
1 cup water
1 cup red wine (any variety)

Preheat oven to 350.  Place thawed roast in the center of a 13x5 glass baking dish.  Surround with carrots, potatoes, and onion.  Rub one clove of chopped garlic on roast, and mix the rest of the garlic in with carrots and potatoes.  Drizzle olive oil on carrots and potatoes.  Sprinkle dry ingredients over beef, carrots and potatoes.  Pour water in at the corners (about 1/4 cup water in each corner).  Drizzle about 2/3 cup of red wine over the roast, and the rest over the carrots and potatoes.  It should look something like this:

Cover with foil.  Bake approximately 2 hours or until roast is cooked throughout.  At least once during baking, take out of oven, remove foil, and spoon juices over entire dish to keep moist.

I served with freshly made rosemary batter bread (a recipe I have altered from a Betty Crocker one).  I will post the recipe for the bread later.

Puppy Tales

Hello.  My mom has been very, very busy lately, so she asked me to fill in for her here.  Well, actually, she didn't ask.  I saw the laptop open and seized the moment.  She says I can't type because I don't have opposable thumbs, so we'll see who's right about that one...

Let me introduce myself.  My name is Lola Madeleine Brucia.  I live with my mom and dad and our three dogs.  Don't even get me started on those dogs.  I have a really awesome big sister and big brother, but I am the tiniest Brucia of them all.  My brother and sister are so cool because they rub my belly, give me treats, and let me lick their faces in a way that some (not me) would describe as excessive.  They have really neat bedrooms, but I'm not allowed in them when my brother and sister aren't here.  My mom thinks I'm going to go pee on their floors, but that's only happened a few times and I only did it to keep those other animals out of our pack's territory, so I don't really know what her deal is.

Our pack is pretty cool.  Not like that pack in the backyard - they smell like dogs.  We get up and have breakfast together each morning.  Actually, I eat breakfast about ten times a day.  The alpha (mom) leaves my food out so I have an endless all-you-can-eat buffet of Iams.  Yuuuumm-eeee!  The other alpha (dad) takes me outside a lot, but never leaves me out like some sort of animal.  He also give me lots of treats.

I know what treats are and where they're kept, and love them so much.  The alpha's tried to get crafty and spell the word "treat" out in front of me so I wouldn't know what they were talking about, but I learned to spell.  That's right.  T-R-E-A-T.  Actually, all they have to say is "T" now, and it's on.  You might think that "treat" would be my favorite word, but it's actually "wanna".  You see, "wanna" can be used in so many ways, but it's usually followed by something wonderful, so when I hear it, I know it's going to be a good day.  "You wanna treat?"  "You wanna go outside?"  "You wanna go for a walk?"  "You wanna play fetch?"  See what I mean.  Good times, that "wanna".

My mom and dad give me baths a lot so I don't smell like a dog.  Not that something like that would ever happen anyway, but whatever...  I usually try to bust the doors open when members of my pack are taking their baths, you know, to see what's going on, and if they might need help.  They don't really like this, but I can't quite figure this one out.  They watch me get baths and "oh" and "ah" about how cute I am when I'm wet.  They watch me go potty outside and tell me I'm a good girl.  I figured I'd reciprocate, you know, tell them how good at going potty they are, but maybe that's not how it works.  Maybe I should Google "do tiny pack members need to help alphas take baths?" while I'm here.

*ears erect, eyes focused on ceiling, heading tilting to extreme right*

Uh oh, I hear my mom coming down the stairs, so I better go bark out the window at the neighbors in their front yard to pretend I've been standing guard this whole time.  To be continued...

L.M.B. 

Spook-tacular Halloween Goodness!

As I mentioned earlier, Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, so here I am waiting for my Halloween cupcakes to finish baking, and thought I'd share some goodies with you.

Last year, I made personalized mini-pumpkins for my step-kids.  They were really cheap, and turned out really cute.  All you need is a little creativity.  I picked up a few mini-pumpkins at the local pumpkin patch for about 50 cents each.  Then I drew the letters for their names on them using colored Sharpie markers.  I practiced this ahead of time on paper to make sure I got them just how I wanted them.  I tried to do each letter in a Halloween theme.  Then, using my hot glue gun, I added embellishments like colored glass drops, rhinestones, and feathers.  I finished both off with a ribbon around the stem.

Sam's pumpkin had a bat for the "S", a witch's hat for the "A", and a googly eyed monster for the "M".
Mike's had a spider and web for "M", candy corn for "I", a dragon-type monster tale for the "K", and a pumpkin for "E".

As I said, I made some Halloween cupcakes.  I just finished them up, so here is the recipe:

Creepy Crawly Cupcakes

1 box chocolate cake mix (any variety), + all ingredients listed on box
12 Oreo's, crushed
12 Reynolds brand aluminum baking cups (they look like big cupcake liners)
1 16 oz. container of chocolate frosting, softened enough to drizzle
gummy worms
sprinkles

Prepare chocolate cake mix as directed on box, preheat oven, mix ingredients, and set aside.  Place baking cups on a cookie sheet.  Following baking cup instructions, spoon approximately 1/3 cup of batter into each baking cup.  Top each with a spoonful of crushed Oreo's cookies.  Bake until toothpick inserted comes out clean - they will take longer than the time listed on your cake mix, because the cupcakes are so big - I started with the time listed on my recipe (15-20 min) and went from there.  Mine took 27 minutes.  Allow cupcakes to cool completely.  Poke small holes into the cupcakes and insert one end of a gummy worm (so it looks like they are crawling out), drizzle with chocolate frosting, and top with sprinkles.  Enjoy!

Creepy crawly cupcakes

Fall Fun!

Fall is one of my favorite times of the year; particularly Halloween.  We spent the past weekend celebrating the season with festivals, food, and most importantly, fun.

I like to cook and make snacks, and enjoy creating new recipes.  I had seen some pigs-in-a-blanket made to look like mummies in the H.E.B. magazine, but they didn't have a recipe, so I had to make one up.  I have to say, they turned out to be some yummy mummies!  You can get the recipe here.

Mummies in a Blanket

To me, caramel apples are the quintessential fall food.  Whether I am drinking a caramel apple spice from Starbucks, or eating caramel apple candy suckers, they all scream autumn to me.  Homemade caramel apples were the perfect easy snack after a night of carving pumpkins.  Pretty quick to make, but letting them sit in the fridge to cool and harden took a little longer.  If you haven't noticed by now, I am all about quick and easy food!  I dipped mine in Heath toffee bits, chocolate chips, and sprinkles.  I also left some plain.  The caramel cooled faster than I anticipated, so I was only able to get toppings on the bottom halves.  You can follow the recipe on the bag of caramel, or if you want a tutorial for how to make your own, you can find one here on my amazing friend's blog.

Caramel apples

You can't celebrate the season without pumpkins, so we went to the pumpkin patch at the Methodist church down the street, picked out some pumpkins and Sam and Mike carved 'em up into some real nice jack-o-lanterns!

My family at the pumpkin patch

Carving pumpkins

Michael's jack-o-lantern

Samantha's jack-o-lantern

I love fall!

Yummy Mummies-in-a-Blanket

I saw a photo idea for these little fall snacks in the H.E.B. grocery store's monthly magazine, but they didn't have a recipe listed, so I got a little creative and made one up.  So easy and so yummy...mummy!

1 package of smoked beef sausage (mine had 7 sausages about 5 inches long)
1 can of refrigerated butter flavored crescent rolls
Wooden popsicle sticks

Preheat oven to 350.  Coat a cookie sheet with cooking spray, set aside.  Cook or grill sausages.  I grilled mine on a George Foreman grill so the fat would drain off nicely.  While sausages are grilling, unroll the crescents onto a cutting board.  Slice them into long, thin strips, a little wider than the width of your pinky fingernail.  Remove sausages from heat source when cooked thoroughly.  Carefully (sausages will be hot) make a slit through the sausage casing at one end of each sausage roughly the width of a popsicle stick.  Insert a popsicle stick about halfway into each sausage.  Wrap crescent slices around your "mummy" starting at the base of the sausage by the popsicle stick.  The more you overlap the crescent rolls and criss-cross them, the more of a mummy look you'll get.  Stop when you are about 2/3 of the way up.  Wrap more crescent strips around the "head" to get a hat look.  Take two small pieces of dough and place them on the "face" for eyes.  Place "face-up" on the cookie sheet.  Repeat until all mummies are ready.  Bake for 7 minutes or until crescents are golden brown.  Serve to your little ghosts and goblins and enjoy!

you + me

I change lyrics to songs so I can include my dogs' names in them.
I get cranky when I'm hungry.
When I'm sick I like new pajamas and socks.
Movies are better when they're cartoons.  And the animals sing.
I hate when people misuse "they're, there, and their".  Hate it.

Band-aids really do make things better.
Given a thousand choices, I will still pick the vanilla ice cream.  With sprinkles, thank you very much.
I could spend all day in a book store.  All. Day.
I am happy in the corner of a party, people-watching.
I like to go to bed early and sleep.  A lot.
Hugs get me through the day.

You sing along to my crazy songs, and help make up new verses.
You have a borderline addiction to energy drinks.
You enjoy eating almonds and then (jokingly, I think) threatening to kiss me.
You claim to hate musicals (especially cartoon ones) but will rent them and watch them with me every time a new one comes out.
You spell words like "zit" and "butt" in Scrabble and giggle about it.
You could spend all day in an electronics store.  All. Day.
You can cut yourself accidentally while working and be bleeding profusely and not even notice. (How do you do that?)
You can talk to anyone and make friends with them.  A neighbor.  The guy working at the gas station.  The person next to you on a plane.  Seriously.  Anyone.
You get random bursts of energy after 10 p.m.
Your hugs get me through the day.

Some people say opposites attract.  I think we're really more complimentary of each other than we are opposites.  As gushy, gross, and hopelessly romantic as it may be, you're my better half.

The best part is that you know the aforementioned kooky things and you still like me.

And there's no one else I'd like to be on this crazy adventure with than you.

The House That Built Us...the story...part 2

A while back I posted part of my story.  You can read part one here.  This is a continuation...

The other day, as we were painting a room, getting things ready to go and listening to our iPod, I had a taste of nostalgia hit me and my eyes teared up.  The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert came up on shuffle.  The house that built me is actually another part of the story...maybe part three...maybe part 27.  Who knows.  I got teary-eyed thinking about this house.  The house that built Us.

When you really stop to think about it, all a house is is a big pile of bricks, concrete, wood, sheetrock and glass neatly organized into several boxes meant for living.  It's funny how such ordinary and singularly boring things can collectively be so significant.

Our house is the first house we bought together.  We only looked at a few, and they were all great, but this one was the winner.  Even though we've only been here about two and half years, we have created so many memories here.

I remember sitting at the closing table being so mad at the former owners who had lied and said flood insurance was not required on the house, only to find out that it was...adding several hundred dollars a year to our expenses.  Just a few weeks later, our city had major downpours, and the creek overflowed, flooding much of our neighborhood.  We were able to laugh at the idiots driving past the "road closed" signs into the flooded water, instead of stressing over not having flood insurance.  The previous owner even stopped by to make sure we were okay - he must have felt guilty.

It wasn't long before we learned what a water dog we really have.  We always knew Bridgette loved water - she used to lay down in her water dish on a daily basis, and has been known to steal a bubble bath.  We never knew that she would be the one enjoying the pool the most.  Bridge quickly took to the pool, first sitting on the stairs to cool down, then taking laps, and then eventually learning how to ride on a floatie.  Her favorite thing to do is to ride with me on the floatie all day long.  She's gotten to the point that she thinks she's the lifeguard.  Whenever Sam and Mike go under water, she swims to where they are and circles above them until they come up.  She hasn't quite mastered diving and bringing them back to the surface yet...

Just a few months later, on the Fourth of July, we had a big party, and Harry set up his giant fireworks display.  We sat along the edges of the pool, and watched the fireworks set off over the backyard.  Of course, we spent the whole next day cleaning the shrapnel out of the pool, but it was so worth it.

We took our first family pictures at the park just down the street.  Some of my favorite pictures ever.

I will never forget the image of Harry the day he bought his first riding lawn mower.  I was driving home, and pulling up into the driveway when I saw Harry whipping around the corner of the house, going full speed on the mower.  I swear he was practically on two wheels.  He had the biggest grin on his face.  It was like a kid on Christmas morning.

There was the Christmas of 2009: we spent all Thanksgiving night at the store picking out our first big Christmas tree, new ornaments, decorations, and lights.  I got so excited about decorating our tree for our "holiday house" that I came running down the wooden stairs in my socks and slipped and bounced my way down all of them on my butt.  I had a wonderful purple bruise for days.  We had the best Christmas ever that year.  The kids were here for two weeks.  We rode their new four-wheelers, and played games.  We lit fireworks and toasted with sparkling apple cider for the new year.  We heated up the pool, and watched Christmas movies on the projector while we swam.

We've had the best parties here.  The evening after our wedding, we invited our guest back to the house and partied all night long.  Harry hooked up his DJ equipment in the back yard and his friend DJ'd while everyone hung out and went swimming.  All our family and friends from childhood and beyond where here.  It was the perfect start to our marriage and our family.

We've had more pool parties than I can count...something we will probably never have the luxury of in another house.  Inevitably, a cannonball contest will commence, and inevitably, my dad somehow always wins.

Last fall, our ancient washing machine finally crapped out, so we bought new front loaders.  Harry and I literally sat in front of them and watched our towels spin around in the soapy water, in awe of the new appliances.

This past summer, we discovered the new trails along Cypress Creek.  We rode our bikes through the forest to the Y, and walked around the lake.

How about just a couple of weeks ago: our house got struck by lightning.  White light seemed to engulf the house, raining down from the clouds, and the power flicked out.  The house shook, and the pipes in the attic banged and rattled.  Just a few minutes later, we heard sirens and saw flashing lights as our street flooded with 5 or 6 firetrucks.  As it turns out, two of our neighbors' homes were struck at the same time.  Luckily, every one was safe - and we only lost one shingle off our roof.

This is not the first place we lived together, but it is the first place we chose together.  It is where we lived when we celebrated our marriage and the beginning of our family.  If these walls could talk they could share with you the stories that have built us into the couple and the family that we are today.  I know there are other houses to be made into homes, but this is the house that built us.

Symmetrical Cemetery

With everything going on these days, I really haven't had time to read - one of my favorite pastimes.  I decided I wouldn't have a chance to settle down with a good book for a while, so I went to the used book store and picked up one on cd that I can listen to on the way to and from work.  It's called Her Fearful Symmetry and is by Audrey Niffenegger (the fabulous author who also wrote The Time Traveler's Wife - one of my favorites).  The story plot is not really relevant to this post, other than the fact that the story begins with the death of a twin, and subsequently how the people in her life deal with her death, including reminiscing, longing, mourning, anger, trying to piece together the mysteries of her life, and sorting out her estate.  The audio book is narrated by a British actress, with whom I am unfamiliar.  I'm not far enough into the book to know if it's relevant to the story or not, but she happens to pronounce "symmetry" and "cemetery" the same way, treating the final "e" in "cemetery" as if it's invisible.

A character in the story works at a cemetery, giving guided tours of the statues and graves of famous people.  He seems so at ease, even comforted by the cemetery.  It reminded me of my own ease with graveyards.

I really like cemeteries.  If they feel right.  I usually can't describe why they feel right or wrong, but I can tell at first sight.  I don't know where this fascination with graveyards came from.  I remember playing night games in junior high around the cemetery in Rock Springs and trying to be freaked out, but never really feeling scared.  Maybe it started then?  Or maybe it goes way back to my first funeral.  I think I was probably about 3.  I can remember my mom holding me during the graveside service for my baby cousin who was taken away from this world before we ever got to meet him.  Perhaps it's fast-forwarded to 11th grade when most of our high school stood in the cold wind as a classmate was buried.

Whatever or why-ever started my love affair with graveyards is a mystery.  I can't explain it, but I feel some sort of peace when I am in them.  I could sit at my mom's graveside for hours listening to the Wyoming wind thrashing the leaves of the Aspen trees.  I imagine her laying there with me, watching the leaves quiver and shine in the sunlight.  My dad picked a wonderful gravesite, if I do say so.

Harry's family has plots in a small cemetery in east Texas.  It's an old community graveyard and looks as though it is cared for only by the families of those buried there, but it has a homey, almost cozy feel.  It's surrounded by forest and has several old hardwoods shading the headstones.  Egypt Cemetery, it's called.  The name is peculiar to me since, in my mind, East Texas and Egypt really have nothing in common, but that is neither here nor there.

While a student at the University of Houston, I took a class for my sociology minor called The Sociology of Death and Dying.  This was probably my most favorite class of my entire college career.  Weird, right? Our final project was essentially to "put our affairs in order".  Since I won't be around and probably won't care much at that point, I said I could be cremated and my ashes spread between the Rock Springs cemetery and Egypt cemetery with a headstone for people to visit at both, though I left the final decision on this up to Harry; he might have different ideas about this, and that's okay with me.

Sometimes when we drive past cemeteries, I make comments about how I like them, or if I dislike them.  I feel confident Harry would put me in my category of a "good" cemetery.

Her Fearful Symmetry got me thinking about how maybe cemeteries add symmetry to my life.  As if I need some sort of balance between this life and the next.  Perhaps I am an old soul, and have been six feet under before; or maybe above it in a mausoleum - I really love those.  Either way, I feel content with cemeteries and the balance they seem to bring to my life.

waiting

Most of life is spent waiting.  Waiting in line.  Waiting in traffic.  Waiting for the next big thing.  After so much waiting, there comes a time in life when you stop waiting for the next big thing and eventually come to the realization that maybe all the big things are done.  Maybe all the fun and excitement has passed you by and it's time to accept the mundane.  Is this what adulthood is?  Because I have to say, if so, that's pretty lame.

I had kind of settled in on the notion that maybe all my "next big things" were done.  Now, I'm not so sure.  I think there are definitely some more adventures to come.  I think the adult part of it is no longer waiting for that big thing to happen.  It's figuring out a way to make it happen and then relishing in the moment that it does.

There's no room for waiting anymore.  There's a whole lotta doing to be done around here.  Time to roll up the sleeves and get to work creating that wow factor of life.  Challenge accepted.  It won't be easy, but when we've got our feet up, soaking up the majestic Rocky Mountains some day, it'll all be worth it.  

Keep calm and carry on.
-E

Grown-Up Grilled Cheese

I had this grilled cheese through hotel room service at a Hilton a few years back and made up my own recipe for it.  Though it's not as quick as slapping a slice of American cheese between two pieces of Wonder bread, it's really easy and sooooo delicious!

All ingredients should be fresh for best taste.  If you live in Texas, you can get all of it fresh at H.E.B.

* Mozzarella cheese (sliced or sliceable - it comes in little balls sometimes, or shredded - don't get either of those)
* Provolone cheese
* Asiago cheese, shredded
* Romano cheese, shredded
* Butter or margarine
* Sourdough bread, sliced for sandwiches

Heat skillet or griddle on medium-medium high heat.  Pair two slices of bread for each sandwich.  Butter the outsides of the bread and then sprinkle lightly with Asiago cheese.  Asiago has a very strong taste, so don't go too heavy with it.  Using the back side of a fork, lightly press the Asiago into the buttered bread to keep it from falling off.  Open your sandwiches, with the buttered sides down.  Cover one piece of bread with slices of mozzarella.  Layer it on thickly - if slicing it yourself, use about 1/4 inch slices; if you are using pre-sliced cheese, you may need a few layers.  Add a few thin slices of provolone on top of the mozzarella.  Sprinkle Romano on top - again this cheese has a strong flavor, so make sure to use a thin layer.  Finish your sandwich with your naked piece of bread, making sure to keep the buttered side out.  Place your sandwich in your skillet or on your griddle and press firmly (but don't smash it!) with the back side of a spatula.  Cook a few minutes, or until the cheese in the middle starts to melt and the outside turns golden brown.  Flip and repeat on other side of sandwich.  Remove from heat source, and cut in half.  Serve immediately.  Goes great with tomato soup, french fries, chips, or fresh veggies.

Blogger's Block

I've been wanting to write a new blog for some time now.  I have about 5 half written blogs that I have yet to finish.  It's not that I don't have plenty to write about - I do.  It's just that I don't know what anyone will want to read so I am having a hard time finalizing any thoughts.  Maybe I have blogger's block.  Is that a real thing?

I wonder if other people get blocks, too?  Like DJs?  They must get play block, with all those requests they take.  I guess this blogger should start taking requests.  What should I write about?  Anyone have suggestions?  Come on, anyone?

Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup

I got home from work tonight to find everyone in my house feeling sickly.  This recipe is my favorite "sick" comfort food, so I thought I'd share the recipe with others.  One problem: I always just make it from memory and season to taste, so today I had to measure out how much of each seasoning I put in.

These measurements are approximate - if you want to add more or less, that's fine.  Taste as you go to make sure you have the broth you want.  If your broth is bland, add a few turns of your salt and pepper grinders, taste, and repeat if necessary.  If your broth is salty enough, but still bland, try a few dashes of onion powder, taste, repeat if necessary.  If you want a spicier soup (good for those with colds or sinus issues) add more Tony's.  Keep in mind Tony's seems to get spicier with time, and with re-heating, so don't make it too spicy to begin with.

2 large boxes chicken broth

1 lb. chicken, diced into 3/4 inch pieces

1/2 T Italian seasoning

1/2 T oregano

1 T onion powder

1 t thyme

1 T rosemary

fresh ground sea salt (about 20 turns of the grinder, to taste)

fresh ground pepper (about 20 turns of the grinder, to taste)

2 T garlic salt

2 T Tony Chachere's seasoning

1 bay leaf

4 to 5 medium carrots 

3 celery stalks

1 bag No Yolks noodles

Pour broth into a large soup pot, add all seasonings, except 1 T of Tony's (you will add that at the end) and bring to a boil.  After the broth reaches boiling, reduce heat to simmer.  Meanwhile, in a medium sized pot, bring about 6 cups of water to a boil.  Add chopped chicken to boiling water, and reduce heat to medium-high.  Cook approximately 10 minutes or until chicken is cooked through.  While chicken is cooking, chop celery and carrots.  Discard leaves and the wide, white base of the celery stalks, and tops of carrots.  Add chopped vegetables to broth.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop cooked chicken out of the water, allowing water to drain back into the water pot.  Add chicken, spoonful at a time, to the broth.  Cook on simmer for approximately 1.5 to 2 hours until vegetables are tender, but firm.  After broth is fully cooked, boil 6 cups of water in a separate pot.  Add noodles to boiling water, turn burner down to medium high, and cook until noodles are tender, but firm.  Do not overcook.  Strain noodles and add to soup.  Mix well.  Add more salt and pepper and Tony's to taste.  Remove bay leaf.  Serve with saltine crackers, biscuits, or bread sticks.

father * dad * papa * pops * daddy * padre

Today is Father's Day.  A day to celebrate all the dads in your life, and the wonderful ways they provide, teach, share.  The things they do behind the scenes for us, of which we may never know.  Obviously I love and am grateful for my own dad, but Father's Day has become extra special to me these past few years because of my husband and his kids.

You will never hear a little girl saying, "I can't wait to grow up and be a step-mom!"  Come on, I mean villains in fairy tales are evil step-mothers half the time!  Personally, though, being a stepmom is the greatest gift Harry has ever given me - probably the best gift I've ever gotten.  Period.

No, I did not give birth to them.  I was not there when they took their first steps.  I am not their mom and could never replace her - but, I love them like they are my flesh and blood.  Of course, it's been a learning process for all of us...finding our way to become a new family.  It's not all roses.  Life is messy.  That's just the way it is.  It's like the country song says "Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride."  Through the growing pains, we are evolving - maybe not into the 'nuclear family' with mom, dad, and 2.1 kids, but into something greater - dad and stepmom, mom and stepdad, brothers, sisters, step-siblings, cousins, grandparents, friends - a whole new definition of what it means to be a family.  It's an wild and crazy experience I wouldn't change for the world.

So maybe it's selfish, but today, on Father's Day, I want to say thank you to Harry for letting me experience parenthood with him - and Sam and Mike for coming along for the ride - because without you, I wouldn't get to be me.  Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there, and to everyone who makes those men who they are.

Captain Steve

Captain Steve

We just got home from our family vacation to the Gulf Coast (more of that to come later).  While in New Orleans, we took an airboat tour of the swamps, just south of the city.  If you are ever in the area, there's lots of things to do, but I would highly recommend you take an afternoon to visit Airboat Adventures and Captain Steve.  The tour was everything their website promised, and more.  Perhaps what made the tour so great, was our captain, and guide, Steve.

Steve is a guy that seems to have things figured out.  Of course, we only spent two hours with him, but you can really tell he loves what he does - or does what he loves - either way.  Throughout the tour, Steve gave us all kinds of information about the swamps, the animals, the history of the place.  Did you know that Confederate soldiers were taught to sew up their battle wounds using Spanish Moss from the swamps?  You do now.  How about the fact that pirates settled parts of southern Louisiana?  Cool, right?  Or that alligators love marshmallows?  They do!  

Steve knew his way around acres of swamp - that kind of all looked the same to me - better than most people know the way around their neighborhood.  He reached right in the murky swamp water and grabbed an alligator by its tail and fed others straight from the boat.  Steve said he used to get out of the boat and mess with the gators out in the water or on the islands, but he's getting older and his wife worries about him - especially since people put videos of him and the gator's escapades on youtube - so he stays on the boat now.  Even though he's more cautious now, he has fun at work, and made sure we all had fun, too.

Steve's love for what he does resonated throughout the Louisiana swamp that day.  He was so happy to share his passion and answer our questions.  He even brought out a baby gator for everyone on the airboat to hold.  Even though we were the last tour of the day, we felt welcome, had a great time, and learned so much from our captain.  I wish I had half the excitement for my job that Steve has for his.

We should all take a page from Steve's book, and learn to have a little more fun in life.  Find out what we love - and do it - and share it with others.

I guess you could go to any old tour company and see the swamps.  However, if you really want an intimate experience with a true frontier, and a lesson on life, look up Airboat Adventures - and ask for Captain Steve.

Spanish Moss

Showing us "what NOT to do"

Feeding the gator

This house was on the swamp right at the end of the tour.  Steve said people ask him all the time if it's his.  His reply, "If that was my house, I wouldn't be on this boat."  After the tour, Harry said, "I bet he'd still be on the swamp boat anyway."

this is the story of a girl...

I am not a product of myself.  I am a product of people, places, and events that have shaped me into the girl I am today.  It would be absurd to say that the following people are the only people from my past who have shaped my present, but I feel like today is the day to share their stories.

I got a text message from one of them last week talking about going through old photos and re-living the crazy, stupid things we've done, cursing the rest of us for letting her have the hairstyle she had all through high school.  It got me wanting to look at pictures, reminisce, and have a good laugh.

B.F.F. is so cliche, but that's honestly how I feel about these girls.  Unfortunately, I can't hang out with them as much as I would like, since I'm over a thousand miles away from most of them.  Fortunately, I know when we're together, it's like we've never been apart.  We have more stories than I can remember, but these are some of my favorite memories of each of them.

Melinda

I first met Mindy sophomore year.  We had drama class together, and ended up triple-dating to prom that year - arriving in style in a mini-van.  In drama, all the girls would sit in the green room and talk when we were supposed to be practicing our lines.  One day I was talking about how I was trying to repurpose an old pair of blue jeans into a denim skirt and couldn't quite get it to work.  Mindy told me to bring them in and she would show me how to do it.  I brought my project in a few days later, and sure enough, Minz knew how to get the job done.  The funny thing is, she's still teaching me how to be crafty - I read her blog frequently to get all sorts of cute and crafty ideas.  I feel like she could look at anything and say "I can do that" and actually do it.

Bethany

Bethany and I met at cheerleading tryouts our freshman year.  With some luck, we both made the varsity team and the rest was history.  Bethany and I were pretty much inseparable from there on out.  Even though we are still great friends, my favorite times with Bethany were the high school years.  We spent countless hours driving around in my old Dodge, singing our lungs out and pretending we could rap.  Bethany stayed in with me when my parents wouldn't let me go out late.  We watched dumb movies and laughed and laughed and laughed.  We made up code names for our friends and crushes in Spanish class so we could gossip without anyone else knowing - of course they probably all thought we were nuts.  I probably have more inside jokes with Bethany from those few years than with just about anyone else.

Abby

I first met Abby in 6th grade band when they combined three or four elementary schools to make up one band.  I was jealous of her awesomely colorful clarinet.  My favorite memory of Abby happened a few years later. 

It was a hot, sunny day, the summer after 7th or 8th grade.  Abby, another girl, and myself rode our bikes to the historic area of downtown to have lunch at Bi-Rite Drug, an old-school pharmacy that housed a little diner upfront.  Bi-Rite has the best mozzarella cheese sticks around, hands-down.  We laughed over inside jokes and gossiped like any other teenage girls would do.  At some point during lunch, the conversation turned philosophical and we began discussing church and prayer.  We decided we should go pray.  After lunch, we hopped on our bikes and rode a few blocks over to the Catholic church.  We walked inside the darkened church building, sat down and prayed - probably for a boy to notice us, to be more popular, or for summer to last a little longer - issues considered God-worthy in teenage girl world.  When we were done, we got up, and rode home.  

I don't know why this story has stuck with me, but I'll always remember praying with Abby.

Megan

When I lived in the dorms, Megan was pretty much my honorary roommate.  I lived on the second floor, facing a row of dorms across the driveway. We would play our music loud and dance around my room getting ready to go out at night.  As it happens, Megan's crush lived in the dorm directly across from mine on the first floor and we could see right into his apartment. Usually, Megan would end up in front of the window dancing and trying to catch a glimpse of him.  It wasn't until she saw him and his roommates staring at her one night that she realized he could see her through the window dancing and watching him.  She was momentarily mortified, but, in true Megan fashion, she easily let it go, and continued doing exactly what she wanted - a trait I treasure in Megan.

Kaylin

The only time I ever served detention was with Kaylin.  It's actually really funny considering we were both pretty good kids.  It was 8th grade Life Science and we had the legendary Mrs. Gillingham as a sub (there was a local urban legend that she was an American Gladiator alum, but really she was just slightly frightening - especially to 8th graders with wild imaginations).  We were playing some sort of review bingo game and Kaylin and I were laughing and giggling.  Mrs. Gillingham wasn't having any of us actually having fun in science class, so she gave us detention.  After school, Kay and I showed up to serve our time.  I think Mrs. Gillingham was either surprised we actually showed up, or she felt bad that she'd gone gladiator on us and she ended up giving us cookies and letting us leave.  We had a good laugh about doing hard time together and went home.  Lucky for me, we've had a lot of other great laughs throughout the years.

My other favorite memory of Kay was finding out that she was going to be a mom.  Kaylin eloped and got pregnant without any of us really knowing.  She sprung the news through an adorable poem typed on colorful paper that she mailed to everyone.  I still have it in my scrapbook, right next to the pictures from her baby shower and Hanna's baby pictures.  Kaylin was my first friend to have a baby, and I loved sharing her experience via letters, texts, and phone calls since she was living in California and Florida during her pregnancy.  The night I got the text that little Hanna Kay had entered the world was such a fantastic night.  That's one truly lucky little girl.

Erin

Freshman year of college Erin and I were both stuck in a funk.  Neither of us liked the colleges we had chosen and were trying to figure out what our next moves would be.  We decided we needed a girls weekend, so Erin drove over from Laramie, and we met up with Kristen in Salt Lake City.  We had a great time girl-talking during the road trip and spending quality time with Kristen.  I remember that "My Immortal" by Evanessence came on the radio and Erin said, "Listen!  This is OUR song!"  The song goes "I'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears."  I think during the course of that weekend, we both decided we needed to make some changes in our college careers (and our lives).  Erin moved home to go to school there, and I decided to move to Salt Lake, and the rest is history - and during that history, Erin's always been there to offer me good advice just like she did then.

Kristen

My dad got transferred from my hometown in Wyoming to Houston when I was a senior in high school. My mom and I were able to stay through the end of the school year, and three days after graduation, my family packed up and moved to Texas.  Kristen's family took me in, as if I was their long lost daughter, during the summer before college.  My favorite time with Kristen is that summer.  My bedroom was next to hers, down the hall from the TV room.  We would stay in together and laugh at stupid movies all night.  We would get dolled up together, sharing clothes and makeup and doing each other's hair.  After nights out with different groups of friends, we would crawl into each other's bed and tell our adventures of the evening.  

I was included in family dinners, movie nights, and conversations with Terry, Jolynn, and Ashlen.  When everyone else had their mom and dad moving them into their dorms, I had Ashlen.  They became my family when mine was too far away.  Kristen was my sister.  She still is.  I can never thank her or her family enough for being there for me then, or now.

Girls - know that I love you all and you mean so very much to me.  Each and every one of you has been there for me through the peaks and the valleys of life and I could not be more grateful.  How amazing is it that we started off as friends as kids, and now we can sit around and drink a glass of wine and talk about our own families.  I doubt that most people are as lucky as we are to have had each other through so much.

All my love,
E.Smith

P.S. I am amazed I got through this entire blog without mentioning Candy Basket once.  We have some good memories there, too!

Sweet Mint Sun Tea

It was 100 degrees at my house by noon today.  One good thing about this heat is that my herb garden is flourishing, and sun tea is easy to make.  Here's a super easy recipe so you can whip some up yourself!

1 sun tea jar

2 large tea bags (not single use bags - the ones for a full pot of tea)

4 sprigs of fresh sweet mint

water

sugar

Fill your sun tea jar with water, leaving about an inch at the top.  Rinse your mint off, then put it in the water.  You can add more or less to taste.  Sometimes I'll put in a sprig of lemon balm, too, for a little lemony flavor.  Put both tea bags in the water, making sure to leave the strings out and screw the lid on.  Place your jar outside in a sunny place for an hour or two.  For stronger tea, leave it out longer.  The darker your tea gets, the stronger it will taste.  Bring your jar back inside and remove the tea bags and mint.  For sweet tea, add 3/4 cup to 1 cup of sugar and stir well.  Serve over ice. 

Bob

Bob lives two houses down.  Each and every evening, like clockwork, he takes his dog, Sugah (yes, you read that right), on a walk, counter-clockwise, around the block.  You could set your watch to him.  Sometimes he wears an old Conoco-Phillips ballcap (I suspect he worked for Conoco before he retired some years back).  Sometimes he wears a fisherman-style hat, but usually only when it's raining.  He always wears a button-up plaid shirt tucked neatly into his jeans.

I first met Bob about two years ago, not long after we moved into the neighborhood.  It was almost dusk and we exchanged small talk for a while before he remarked he'd better hurry on home or his wife would worry that he'd forgotten where they lived.  "I think I've got that Alzheimer's, you know?" he casually remarked with a smirk, before saying goodnight.  Since then Harry and I have developed a casual relationship with Bob and his wife, Jo.  We wave, say hello, talk about the weather or the general state of the neighborhood - normal neighborly things, I suppose.

Tonight I was in the backyard on the deck and I looked out front and saw Bob and Sugah sitting out front on the curb.  Worried he had fallen or gotten lost, I walked around front to see what was up.  My wave and "hello" were met by a blank stare.  As I got closer, I said "hi" again and Bob said hello in exchange.  He said he was sitting down enjoying the nice cool breeze with his dog.  I was so glad to see he was alright.  We started chatting and I said hello to Sugah.

"How do you know my dog's name?" Bob said.  I was immediately alarmed by this.  Anyone who knows me knows I'm a dog person, so of course, I always say hi to Sugah when I see him (yes, him).  "Oh, well I've seen his nametag before, so of course I knew his name."  Bob seemed satisfied with this answer and said he figured the whole neighborhood knew Sugah.  He's probably right.  "So where do you live?" he asked.  Uh oh.  Panic rushed over me.  Did I need to go get Jo and tell her Bob was lost?  How could he not know me?  He was practically sitting in my front yard.  "I live right here.  I'm Harry's wife."  "Oh yeah," he said, "I'm sorry, it's so dark out here and it's getting harder for me to see.  I do know you.  And Harry.  I heard him banging on something with a hammer earlier."

I've never been happier to hear someone joke about Harry making noise.  I was so glad that Bob remembered us.  I assume the day will come when he won't, but that day is not today.

Harry told me I should write about Bob tonight.  His grandmother suffered from Alzheimer's.  She forgot her grandchildren and was convinced her husband was cheating on her, so she divorced him at 72 years of age after being together nearly 60 years.  After they were divorced, Harry's grandfather went to his ex-wife's house everyday to drink morning coffee with her.  He brought her mail to her everyday.  Until the day he died.  Like clockwork.  Like Bob and Sugah.

I guess the moral of the story is to appreciate the simple things in life.  A cup of coffee.  A good, long walk.  The feel of a cool breeze on your face. Your neighbors.

A Random Act of Green-ness

A few Fridays ago was Earth Day.  I thought it was the perfect opportunity to try to live a little "greener" as they say.  Last year I tried to garden from seeds and that just didn't work at all.  Apparently I do have enough of a green thumb to get the seeds to sprout, but that was about it.  So this year I figured I'd start with plants and see how that works.  In addition to plants making the world a better place by creating oxygen and all that, I am thinking I can help my own "green" by spending less at the grocery store and growing my own veggies!

I am going to try to container garden - where you grow plants in pots or other containers, rather in a bed.  I am doing this for two reasons: one - the dogs seem to care less about digging in pots than they do in the flower beds, and two - I'm not sure how well the plants will tolerate the HOT heat of Texas, so I might have to relocate them in the yard and that will work much better with containers.  I know the little cards that come with the plants say "shade" or "full sun" but I tend to think that the plants don't always like full, hot, hot, hot Texas sun. 

For all you wanna-be gardeners like me out there, Home Depot has had their vegetable and herb plants on sale, buy 2 get 1 free.  I picked up two "patio" tomato plants (good for container growing, the label says), two strawberry plants, a red bell pepper, jalapeno pepper, and a couple of cucumber plants.  I don't really like cucumbers but have always wanted to make my own pickles.  Weird? I also grabbed some herbs like mint, rosemary, parsley, cilantro, dill, lavender, and a few others.  The brand they sell, Bonnie Plants, is awesome because it also happens to utilize biodegradable containers made out of recycled paper.  You can just stick the plant in the ground as-is, so no pesky trans-planting needed and no trash!  How green is that?  I also grabbed a bag of Miracle Gro organic potting soil and some organic plant food.  Normally I'm not as concerned about "organic" as I probably should be, but if I'm eating it, I don't want it covered in chemicals.

So far, the cucumbers are growing like weeds and have several yellow flowers popping up.  The tomatoes are doing well, too, and I think some are almost ripe.  The cilantro and parsley do not like the direct, hot sun so I'll need to relocate them.  The herbs seem to do better being kept constantly moist, rather than allowing them to dry out in between waterings.  If they start to get too dry, they all start wilting.  It's been a learning curve, but so far, so good.

I'm really looking forward to being able to walk outside and get fresh herbs and the goods for fresh salsa, fruit salad and pickles right from my backyard this summer.

A day in the life...

The other night, I'm at H.E.B. in the Vintage.  For those of you outside of Texas (or Mexico) that's a pretty darn awesome grocery store.  So cool, in fact, I take visitors there to check it out.  Ask Bethany.  Anyway, I'm in the parking lot, riding this really awesome beach cruiser-style bike with those big old handle bars and banana seat.  It might have had a basket, I don't remember.  It's an eerie, inky black outside, except for a few parking lot security lights and I'm kinda cruisin' around the parking, making figure eights, like it's my mission.  I suddenly make a bee-line for the corner of the lot, next to the exit, and go up this little hill, that I swear was never there before.  Suddenly, I'm riding through thick sludge that resembles green and yellow frosting, though in the shape of blades of grass.  It's really hard to peddle through, but I truck on, because it must be done.  Out of no where, I start to hear a high-pitched, menacing cackle, very similar to the laughter in Call of Duty: Black Ops Zombies.  As I turn the bike, I notice two girls I went to high school loading groceries into a black SUV.  They were a couple of years ahead of me in school, and one of their names escapes me.  They look at me with disgust as I try to frantically get through the sludge.  The laughter and darkness is really starting to scare me.  Lurking just to my left I suddenly spot Biscuit, my brother-in-law's Chihuahua-looking dog who weighs about 10 pounds and has the craziest spike-y dog hair cut you've ever seen.  She has more of an underbite than usual and has three yellow, snarly teeth sticking out of her bottom jaw, almost long enough to touch her nose.  I realize that the cackle is definitely coming from her, although she's being sneaky about it, so the girls don't know it's her.  I'm shaking by now, terrified this little mongrel is going to snatch me up and the girls are looking at me like I'm an idiot.  I can tell they recognize me, but can't remember my name either.  Since they're watching me now, I know now is my chance to escape Biscuit.  I make a break for my right, exiting the parking lot onto Center Street, right across from Rock Springs Honda/Toyota.

Now this is the point where my subconscious and my conscious mash up and I realize something is wrong.  How the hell did I get from Houston to Rock Springs, Wyoming in one turn?  Ah...a dream.  A crazy one. And one that is a sign that my husband has been playing too much Call of Duty.  And one that I had such a hard time going back to sleep after, I felt I had to share it.

Kitchen Update

I don't know how people survive major home renovations.  We got our counters replaced last Thursday and then being the do-it-yourself-ers we are, decided to update a few other things in our kitchen.  Nothing big - just trying to make things a little prettier.  Anyway, we finally got the oven hooked back up yesterday but my sink has been out of commission for 5 days now and it's driving me crazy.  We need to figure out how to hook that drain back up asap!

To be continued...

socks

I used to hate socks.  Like seriously.  I never wore them.  I was a big flip flop and sandal fan, even though I grew up somewhere where it snows at least nine months out of the year.  My feet are always cold so I figured it didn't really make much of a difference if I wore socks or not.  My mom and I used to argue about my aversion to socks often.

Something about being really barefoot makes you feel so reckless and carefree.  Especially being barefoot outside, which I used to do a lot with Raven and Alisa.  Sometimes Alisa and I would chase Raven barefoot through the mud with earthworms because she was the girliest of us all and would freak out - but that's part of another story.

Last week, as I was getting ready for work, I put on my socks first.  There I stood, in all my nakedness - except for the socks, of course - and realized how weird it is for me that I really love socks now.  A few months ago, I was really sick and wound up in the hospital, and I actually sent my husband home to get a particular pair of socks for me and I actually felt better when I put them on - kinda like a kid with a band-aid.  Lately I really like the security of socks.  They are taut, and snug against my feet, and I feel like everything is in its place when I have my socks on.  Maybe this is a sign of growing older, or maybe wiser - I'd rather feel secure and comforted than careless and wild.  Don't ever let me be too old to let my hair down and take my socks off once in a while.

pieces of paper

Paper doesn't cost much.  Everyone has some.  Most of us probably take it for granted.  It is, however, a pretty significant thing sometimes.

I've traced my hands on colorful, construction paper.  I practiced my handwriting and multiplication on wide-ruled notebook paper.  I passed notes in class and I typed book reports on paper.  I took the written driver's license test on scantron paper.  I got to walk across a stage with my friends to get my paper high school diploma, not long after I received college acceptance letters on university letterhead.

My first paychecks were paper.  My college diplomas, too.  And my marriage license.

Today marks the first anniversary of my marriage to a wonderful man - my best friend and partner in the world.  The first anniversary is the "paper anniversary".  I think that's pretty fitting for yet another fantastic milestone in life.

Now it's time to see if that wedding cake is still any good...

Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all

After you experience a significant loss, people will always tell you that time heals everything.  Anyone who truly knows me, knows that I don't sugar coat things, so here's the ugly truth - some wounds might heal, but will still scar.

Nearly five years ago, I lost my mom to a battle with ovarian cancer.  It was very quick.  I remember getting a call from my mom on June 20, 2006 telling me that her doctor had found a mass and they were going to run more tests.  On July 21, she was gone.

In my short time on this earth, I have experienced a lot of loss.  I have lost dogs, grandparents, classmates.  But nothing can prepare you for the sudden loss of someone so close to you.  Particularly since most of my friends were just turning 21 and going to bars and clubbing - living carefree - and I was helping to make funeral arrangements.

The purpose of this post is not to depress or upset those reading it.  I have a friend - who I used to be quite close to, but unfortunately life has sent us down different paths and separated us a bit.  This friend recently lost her father, not long after having her first child.  I can't even begin to imagine the range of emotions that she has dealt with in the few months.  I have reflected over the last few weeks with hopes of giving her some insight, wishing I could shed some wisdom on her.

The funny thing is, death is such an incredibly personal thing.  Everyone deals with it differently, though I have noticed everyone does seem to go through the stages of grief of which you hear.  It's hard to give advice to someone about something so deep.

I enjoy talking about my mom - remembering the movies we used to watch, how we used to fight about curfew when I was high school, what she might doing right now if she was still here.  I cry every time I hear "The Best Day" by Taylor Swift and put my mom and me in the song - but that's okay.  I think it is so important to remember and honor her memory, even if it's not always easy.

Out of all bad, must come good, and in this case, the good is education.  Before my mom got sick, I had heard of ovarian cancer, but didn't know much about it.  After her death, I took comfort in learning everything about it I could.  I researched on the internet, read books, and talked to doctors.  I make sure to tell the women I know that ovarian cancer does not have glaring symptoms.  They can be easily overlooked or brushed off, which is why it is so deadly.  Through my studies, I learned that ovarian cancer and breast cancer can be directly linked, and a mutated gene can cause them.  Since my mom's mom had breast cancer, it is possible my sister and I could be carriers of this gene.  I have looked into genetic testing, but have not quite reached the point in my life where I am ready to carry through with that.

This year we had a birthday party for my mom - something I am hoping will become a tradition.  We released teal balloons (teal is the ovarian cancer color) with handwritten notes those who knew her attached to the balloons.  It was wonderful.  I would like to get to the point where we can volunteer as a family at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, or do charitable events like The Race for the Cure.  Though we have memories, I think it would be so much better if good for others can come out of our loss and we can help others through trying times.

The advice I can give to my friend - and to anyone else - is to take your time.  Grieve the way you want. Talk about your loved one and remember them.  Take time to be angry and to wonder "why".  But most importantly, move on with your life, and live in a way that you know would make your angel proud.  Living your life does not mean you are forgetting, it means you are living the dreams of those who have left you behind only to watch over you from heaven.  Remember that there will never be a day you don't think of who you have lost - and that's okay.  It's okay if you need help, or need to talk to someone.  Reach out to those around you, whether they be friends, a spouse, family, or a counselor.  Be grateful, everyday, for the blessings in your life.  Love is all around you.  Perhaps it is the laughter of your child, a hug from your husband, or a text message from your stepchildren.  Notice the good and important, and try not to dwell on the insignificant.  Cry, if you need to.  Try to laugh more.  There is no set date for "getting over it" and you will grieve in some way or another for the rest of your life, but that does not mean life is over for you.

Time does not necessarily heal all wounds, but you will get stronger...that, I can promise.

Easy Pasta Salad

This pasta salad is a family favorite around my house.  It's super quick and easy, and can be prepared ahead of time.  The few ingredients are stuff I usually have in my kitchen, too.  You can prepare it ahead of time for barbeques or pool parties, or make it for a fast dinner.

You will need:

Uncooked rotini pasta noodles (I prefer the tri-colored ones, mostly because they are prettier.  I buy them in bulk for quick meal fixes.) 

Olive oil

Cubed colby jack cheese

Pepperoni and/or salami

Italian dressing

You can also add olives or other vegetables, but I have picky eaters, so I don't.

Cook and drain noodles.  Drizzle with a little olive oil, toss noodles, and set aside to cool.  Slice the cheese cubes in half or quarters, depending on your preference.  Slice pepperoni and salami into quarters.  Mix cheese and meat into the pasta.  Be careful not to do this until the pasta is cooled, or your cheese will melt.  Drizzle with Italian dressing to taste, and mix thoroughly.  Enjoy!

Lemons

My husband and I purchased our house nearly two years ago.  The "pro" side of our list of reasons why we picked this house was full of the usual things like location, number of bedrooms, kitchen size, and so on.  At the bottom of the list I remember noting that I liked that there were citrus trees in the backyard.  The first fall we lived here I was able to harvest probably at least 20 lemons off of two trees, and set off making homemade lemonade.  This past fall I was discouraged when I couldn't find one single lemon.  I was at a loss for how my trees had been so fruitful one year, and barren the next.

One of the trees has become mutated and a bit dwarfed as it struggles for sunlight.  It is shaped as though it got blown sideways during a hurricane and was never properly braced upright again.  This past weekend as I was working in the backyard, I noticed something really quite special.  Beneath the twisted and deformed branches, I spotted three nearly ripe, perfectly shaped, bright yellow lemons.  I was so ecstatic that I rushed to our other tree to see what fruit it had to bear.  To my surprise, the other tree, was covered in tiny white blossoms with a speck of pink, brilliantly flickering in the wind, waiting for it's turn to produce fruit.  Two trees in one yard - one at the end of it's production cycle and one just beginning.

The popular saying goes "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade."  That little saying reminds us to find the beauty in life - the silver lining, if you will.  My life has not been filled with lemonade by any means, but it is still a great life.  Sometimes it's the little things in life, like lemon trees, that I need to remind me of the wonders of life.  So when life gives you lemons, make lemonade...or paint a wall a bright, cheery yellow.  That's what I did.

Before (notice ugly blue/gray in the stairway)

After

New Year, New You?

We are officially well into 2011, but looking at the transition into this new year got me thinking.  Why do we have to wait for a new year to start our lives anew?  Sure, New Year's Eve is a great reason to get together with family and friends and shake it, but why do people insist on throwing out the old year and all that it brought and trying to jumpstart something new?

We've all made new year's resolutions...most of which never seem to amount to anything.  Thinking about the possibility of creating a new resolution this year made me really contemplate the point of such resolutions.  I have shocking news for everybody, January 1st doesn't change our lives, all it does is make us write a new two digit year when filling out paperwork - or signing checks, but I haven't done the latter for years.  If you want to make a change in your life, do it for you, not for January 1st.

Too many of my friends and family made comments this December 31st about how awful 2010 was and how 2011 couldn't arrive faster.  These types of comments are really quite sad.  Why is it that people can't realize that another year in these earthly bodies we call home should be a blessing, rather than something to throw out and forget like trash.  I'm not saying everything in 2010 was so miraculous for me that light shone down from the heavens and angels sang, however, there are always great things in life - the silver lining if you will.

I wish more people could live in the now a little more, not dwell on the past as much, learn from mistakes, work on bettering themselves year 'round, and realize that January 1st was just another Saturday, not some magical life-changing day because it ended with -11 rather than -10.