Okay, I just have to say it...

I'm sure you will all lose boatloads of respect for me (as if you had any already... but I digress). Well, here it goes:

I have a favorite blog I read a lot. It's called Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. I really like this woman. (I've never met her, but I like her writings, her humor, well... I like her whole blog.) I'm sure if I were her neighbor (fat chance of THAT ever happening), we would be best buds.

Anyway, she just returned from a trip to Arizona with her husband. She posted lots of pictures of saguaro cacti (plural for cactus - are you impressed that I know that?). Well... I just have to say it: Saguaro cactus look like mother nature's way of flipping people off. Really... That's the first thing I thought of when I looked at the photographs she posted. The thought went right through my head, "Oh my, that looks like a hand flippin' the bird."

Now, I had to drive Interstate 10 (THREE TIMES in 18 months) and well, the desert is pathetic. Hot, barren, and it seems to go on forever when you're trying to escape Texas and get back to San Diego. After surviving west Texas (true armpit scenery), you end up smack dab in the New Mexico desert. Just when you think you can't stand any more of it, you cross into Arizona... MORE OF THE SAME -- ONLY WORSE. And that's when she does it! Mother nature knows your mindset. She knows what you've been thinking as you've driven through the barren wasteland... and boom, she tells you what she thinks of it all. She starts flippin' you the bird ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!!

"Ha ha, little human. You thought you'd be out of this by now... You're ready for palm trees, sea breezes and ocean views... but Noooooooooo (evil laugh inserted). You've got 10 more hours of this, easy. Bwahhh haaah haahhh."

I dunno. I just think those cactus plants look like they are throwin' some real attitude.



Admit it. You see it too.

I’m missing Argentina...

Oh my gosh. It’s almost an agony. I’ve been keeping my nose to the grindstone and working a lot the past two weeks. Since it’s just me, my computer and my home office... sometimes the silence is a little bleak. So I loaded a lot of my music into iTunes. While I work, I listen to music. It helps. Anyway, so today, I scour through my tunes and find tangos... lots and lots of them. It doesn’t take much, just a few bars and I almost can’t stand it. I WANT TO BE IN BUENOS AIRES SO BADLY!!! The music starts and I can see it all in my mind’s eye: the city streets, the colectivos, panaderias (bakeries), carnecerias (butcher shops), the pulse of the people moving on the sidewalks, the houses, the architecture of the public buildings... AAARRRRGH! I want to be there. I want to hear the people speaking Castellano with the lilt and rhythm of the Argentina accent (which, by the way, doesn’t sound like an accent to me. It sounds “right,” the way Spanish should sound. It’s all the other nationalities that have accents.) I want to speak in Spanish instead of English. It is poetic, expressive and creative. Every country has a smell, a scent. If you travel, you’ll know what I mean. I want to smell Argentina again.

There are people there I want to see. Some I haven’t seen in 25 years. Unreal. I want to sit together and drink ‘mate’(pronounced MAH-tay). I want to buy milk in plastic bags (that always cracked me up). I admit, I want the sideways glances of people trying to figure out who the heck I am. I look like a ‘norteamericana’, but thanks to native companions during the months I was learning Spanish and an Argentine ex-husband, I speak with a native Argentine accent. I have to confess, I’m pretty proud of that. I hold it as a great accomplishment. I loved it when investigators or members would ask me which province I was from.

You know, there’s a feeling people get when they are going ‘home’ (wherever ‘home’ is). Every time we travel to San Diego I get that feeling at a certain point on I-15 just coming into San Diego County - just beyond Fallbrook. The only other place I have ever felt the exact same thing is flying into Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires. I’ve returned twice after my first time there. The first return trip was three years after I had finished my mission. The sense of “coming home” surprised me. I wasn’t expecting it. I spent six months working and studying there and loved every minute. And ten years later, when I went again for a two-week visit, the same sensation happened. Truth is, I always thought I would live there for a time. That didn’t happen. Or, at least, it hasn’t happened yet. But today, for a plug nickel and a visa stamped in my passport, I’d jump on a plane right now.

Mi Buenos Aires querido,
cuando yo te vuelva a ver,
no habrá más penas ni olvido.

El farolito de la calle en que nací
fue el centinela de mis promesas de amor,
bajo su inquieta lucecita yo la vi
a mi pebeta luminosa como un sol.

Hoy que la suerte quiere que te vuelva a ver,
ciudad porteña de mi único querer,
oigo la queja de un bandoneón,
dentro del pecho pide rienda el corazón.

Mi Buenos Aires, tierra florida
donde mi vida terminará.
Bajo tu amparo no hay desengaño
vuelan los años, se olvida el dolor.

En caravana los recuerdos pasan
como una estela dulce de emoción,
quiero que sepas que al evocarte
se van las penas del corazón.

Mi Buenos Aires querido,
cuando yo te vuelva a ver,
no habrá más penas ni olvido.

Four Drivers - Six Cars

It’s a wonder my neighbors don’t call a tow truck. So... we have a gas-guzzling full-size SUV (it doesn’t see much of the road these days), two 1993 Grand Prix’s (long story about why there are two of them, but hey, there you are), a fairly new family sedan that the oldest member of the family uses to drive to work (here’s where I would insert an icon with a smiley face sticking its tongue out – if I had it), another beater car that only one member of the family is allowed to drive (another long story - don’t even ask. I’m not going into it, not even in another post) -- and our fondest member of the fleet: a very dead, going nowhere, burned up transmission Toyota that belonged (belongs?) to my nephew who is going to BYU-Idaho. So... we’re a parking lot and a junkyard as well as a taxi hub.

However, something happened yesterday. Knock on the front door and an hispanic lady was there. She asked about the Toyota and if we were interested in selling it. Weird. I had to be honest and tell her it didn’t run and it would take more to fix it than it was worth. It would need a new engine. At that point I turned it over to The Captain. He talked to her and said she was still somewhat interested in it. So, he told her for $200 she could have it. Don’t know if we’ll see her again, but wouldn’t it be great to have one less vehicle crowding up the front of the house?

Enemy of the Slim Hips - Another food recipe

So, summer is winding down. I don't know about your place, but around here my daughter and her friend have been on a S'mores bender this summer. I don't know how many packages of marshmallows have passed through our pantry on their way to some fire ring somewhere. Don't know how much profit we've provided to Hershey's Company, but... trust me, it's been considerable.

So... now comes the cooler weather. No more campouts. So what do you do with all those S'Mores cravings??? Yeah, yeah, I know all about using the microwave, but it isn't quite the same. No 'smoky burnt marshmallow on top' taste. Here's my solution:
S'Mores Pie. Enjoy!

1. 1 graham cracker crumb crust, baked and cooled completely (you can make your own, or just buy a Keebler graham cracker crust already made - the extra serving size)
2. 7 ounces fine-quality bittersweet or semi-sweet chocolate (NOT unsweetened), finely chopped
3. 1 cup heavy cream
4. 1 large egg, at room temperature
5. 1 teaspoon unflavored gelatin
6. 1/2 cup cold water
7. 3/4 cup sugar
8. 1/4 cup light corn syrup
9. 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1. Make chocolate cream filling: Make graham cracker crumb crust and reserve.
2. Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Put chocolate in a large bowl. Bring cream just to a boil in a 1- to 1 1/2-quart heavy saucepan, then pour hot cream over chocolate. Let stand 1 minute, then gently whisk until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Gently whisk in egg and a pinch of salt until combined and pour into graham cracker crumb crust (crust will be about half full).
3. Cover edge of pie with a pie shield or foil and bake until filling is softly set and trembles slightly in center when gently shaken, about 25 minutes. Cool pie to room temperature on a rack (filling will firm as it cools), about 1 hour.
4. Make marshmallow topping: Sprinkle gelatin over 1/4 cup cold water in a large deep heatproof bowl and let stand until softened, about 1 minute.
5. Stir together sugar, corn syrup, a pinch of salt, and remaining 1/4 cup water in cleaned 1- to 1 1/4-quart heavy saucepan. Bring to a boil over moderate heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved, then boil until thermometer registers 260 degrees F, about 6 minutes.
6. Begin beating water and gelatin mixture with an electric mixer at medium speed, then carefully pour in hot syrup in a slow stream, beating (avoid beaters and side of bowl). When all of syrup is added, increase speed to high and continue beating until mixture is tripled in volume and very thick, about 5 minutes. Add vanilla and beat until combined, then immediately spoon topping onto center of pie filling; it will slowly spread to cover top of pie. Chill, uncovered, 1 hour, then cover loosely with lightly oiled plastic wrap (oiled side down - duh) and chill 3 hours more.
7. Brown topping: Preheat broiler.
8. Transfer pie to a baking sheet. Remove plastic wrap from pie. Cover edge of pie with pie shield or foil and broil 3 to 4 inches from heat, rotating pie as necessary, until marshmallow topping is golden brown, about 3 minutes. Cool pie on a rack 10 minutes. Slice pie with a large heavy knife dipped in hot water and then dried with a towel before cutting each slice.
Note: You can make this pie (minus the browning step) and chill it up to 1 day before needing it. Then pull it out of the fridge and follow the browning step just before serving.

And the last shall be first: Introducing Jon

Youngest son. Doesn’t get to do anything first... so I figured I’d introduce him first. (yeah, it’s the little things that make me such a great mom.) Football. Swimming. Weightlifting, FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America), DECA (don’t ask me what it stands for but it’s something to do with a student Marketing and Business Development Association), HOSA (Health Occupation Something Association)... yeah... he’s into all of it. And good at all of it.

I got a letter from the high school recently warning me that my son was not “on track” to graduate from high school next spring. So, I had to make a call... “Ummm, this is Jon’s mom. I got this letter.”

“Yes Mrs. Jon’s Mom. We are concerned because Jon is only enrolled in two high school classes this year, and well, there are quite a few credit hours he will need to complete in order to graduate high school this year.”

“Yes, I’m aware he’s only in two HS classes. Were you aware that’s because all five of his other classes are EdNet college classes through Utah Valley University? You know, the ones that count for both college and high school credit?”

Silence. “Uh, no.”

“Well, yeah. In fact, if you total up the credits from the college courses he took last year as a junior, I think you will find he’s already got enough credits to graduate from high school. In fact, by the end of this school year, I think he’ll be three college courses away from his Associate’s degree. He’s staying enrolled at the HS so he can play football, compete in swimming and weightlifting, get as many college classes at the discounted high school tuition rate as possible, participate in FBLA, DECCA and HOSA (excuse me while I take a breath)... oh, and date and go to Prom.”

So... that’s Jon. He’s 17. He’s a blast. He’s intense. He’s driven. But, between you and me... his music drives me bonkers! He’s got an annoying habit of taking his CD player into the bathroom and cranking it up so he can hear it when he’s in the shower. I’ve tried the patient route. (No go.) I’ve tried the “can you please turn it down” route. Doesn’t work consistently. Finally, a while ago, I confess, my nerves were sufficiently frazzled and I lost it. So I barked at him: “Why is it you are the only person in the family that has to have music to wash their butt by?” (Not my best parental moment.) But, the great thing about Jon? He loves me even during my not-so-great moments. So I guess I may have to pick my fights a little more judiciously... and buy some Extra-Strength Tylenol in the meantime. Or earplugs... yeah, earplugs... That might work.

My first food post (Trust me, there's gonna be a lot of these)

As some of you know, I am crazy about baking. Cooking -- not so much, but baking is nirvana. I recently had a fairly large family group show up and it was my pleasure to serve a brunch. And let me tell you, it was fun and we had plenty to eat. One of the recipes was a real hit, so I thought I'd share it with you. It is NOT mine. It came from one of my favorite cookbooks: "Morning Food" by Margaret Fox.

The recipe is Warm Berries and Peaches with Shortcake Biscuits & Whipped Cream. (You think the name is a mouthful.... Wait till you get a taste of these! They are TO DIE FOR good.)

For the fruit mixture:
2 cups blueberries
2 tablespoons white sugar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon cornstarch
Pinch of salt
2 small or 1 large peach, peeled, and cut into eighths
3 cups raspberries
2 tablespoons raspberry eau-de-vie (instead I used a mixture of raspberry syrup and water - equal portions)

For the shortcake biscuits:
2 cups flour
6 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup unsalted butter, cut into 1-teaspoon-sized pieces, and frozen
2 cups and 2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream, divided
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract, divided

To prepare the fruit: Combine the blueberries, 2 tablespoons sugar, lemon juice, cornstarch, and salt in a non-aluminum saucepan. Bring to a boil and reduce the heat, simmering until the mixture thickens and a sauce forms, about 10 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent sticking. Add the peaches and cook for 1 minute, then remove from heat, and gently fold in the raspberries and eau-de-vie. Set aside.

To prepare the biscuits: Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. In a food processor, place the flour, 2 tablespoons sugar, baking powder, and salt. Blend briefly. Add the butter and pulse until the butter is the size of peas. Pour mixture into a bowl, add 1 cup of the cream, and combine with a fork until moistened. Immediately turn out onto a lightly floured board and knead about 10 times. Small lumps of butter should be visible. Roll out to a 3/4-inch thickness. Keep dough in a square shape. Cut into 6 pieces and place on an ungreased cookie sheet. (You can do this either with a knife, for square biscuits, or with biscuit cutters for round ones. If you don’t have biscuit cutters, you can also use one end of a clean 8-oz tomato sauce can.)

Mix the egg yolk with 2 tablespoons of cream and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla, and brush on the tops of the biscuits. Sprinkle with 2 tablespoons sugar. Bake 15 to 20 minutes or until golden brown.

To make the whipped cream: Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar to the remaining 1 cup of whipping cream, along with 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract. Beat until soft peaks form. Refrigerate. (It is helpful if, before adding the cream, sugar and vanilla to the bowl you have first chilled the bowl in the freezer for about 10 minutes.)

To assemble: When cool, split the biscuits and place the bottom half of each onto a plate or in a bowl. Add one-sixth of the berry mixture, and garnish with a dollop of whipped cream. Place the tops on, slightly off-center, and serve immediately.

I need a camera!!!

That's all. I simply need a camera. One that will capture all the moments that memories can't be relied on to maintain in the coming years. I realize it's too late to go back in time and take snapshots of the images that are already in my memory. However, considering the gene pool I swim in, my memory could go at any time in the future. So, I need to end the loss as soon as possible and get a camera. A GOOD camera.

Case in point! My husband and I have just returned from seeing Mae. The very first granddaughter in our clan. And... did I think to bring a camera??? Nope!! I can see her in my mind's eye (or Brett & Juliann's blog)... but, that's it. So, how exactly am I going to convince my friends that yes, I am now a hip, happenin' grandma if I don't have any pictures I carry around to prove it? What was I thinking? Wait -- here's the answer: I wasn't thinking.

So... time to get a camera. And in the meantime, I'll figure out how to steal a picture from Brett & Juliann's blog just to show that my memory is accurate. Mae IS beautiful.

So now I'm old...

I have a son on a mission in New Zealand. I have a daughter entering college in 4 months. I have a son who is a high school senior. If I'm allowed to count my stepsons in my life trajectory (and I do - my musings on the problematic word "step" will come in a later post), I have a stepson old enough now to not qualify for our insurance any longer. I have another stepson who is a high school senior. I have a stepson and a stepdaughter-in-law (see how awkward that "step" word keeps being?) who are new parents -- making me a (I refuse to use that "S" word again) GRANDMOTHER.

I have accumulated a 13-year-old previous marriage, three years of "divorced" status, and a current marriage trying to be six-years old. If I were one of those that "got it right the first time" I'd be looking to celebrate 22 years of marriage. Forget the coupling failures -- just look at the numbers. I've accumulated that much adult life...

Yep, I am officially old. What the heck!?! When did this happen? How am I supposed to feel about it? I know that I have crossed over because thoughts about retirement funds, the state of the nation, healthcare, children's college costs, and dwindling job options bounce around in my head daily. I gave up counting individual gray hairs long ago. I'm sure Lancome doesn't even make a wrinkle cream that will help stave off the laugh lines (or cry lines if I'm feeling pessimistic). Oh, let's be honest, in another couple of years, if things continue to head in the direction they're going, my nipples and my navel will be able to have face-to-face conversations with each other on a bra-less day.

So why start a blog now? At my age? Well, I guess if I'm going to go into middle-age kicking and screaming, why not scream here in public? (After all, I'm both an Aries AND a middle child.) I'll try welcoming the opportunities of this stage of life. I'm sure there will be surprises. I'm going to exercise a little faith that it's a phase of life worth entering into full-force. Exuberance! Excitement! I've "embraced" the sags, the wrinkles, the headaches my teenage son's music gives me. I guess I'll "embrace" the age thing.

So, bear with me as this blog becomes a work in progress. I'll get some pictures posted, some music to share with you all. Some things that'll make it worth your time to come by and visit.