Category: another day in the life

Just to say.

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My friend Kristin lost her son not quite three years ago and started a foundation in his honor.  Our hometown paper did a beautiful story on her that you can read here. 

And then go the website for the Jedediah Thomas Smith Foundation and pre-order the forthcoming foundation cookbook.  It will make fantastic holiday gifts for the cooks in your life, it helps a good cause  AND includes a recipe from me – my Aunt Loretta’s Mrs. Van Popple Cheesecake.  All proceeds go to the foundation, which gives assistance to families battling childhood cancer.

I still carry a picture of Jed in my wallet.  It reminds me that each day is a gift, to not take anything for granted.  And to remember a very special little boy who’s short life has left a long lasting legacy.

They can turn your day right back around.

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Yesterday was day  4 of no voice and day 9 of this cold, which seemingly gets worse every day it lingers.  The sun was shining and from inside, it looked like a beautiful fall day.  In reality, temperatures lingered in the 40’s.  It was one of those days where I knew when I got out of bed was yet another one of our marathon days, where it’s go-go-go until bedtime, but I had neither the energy nor the inclination to hurl myself through the way I generally can.  It was the kind of day where I ended up with enchilada sauce all over the inside of my purse in a most unexplainable manner, other than, I’m Becky and things like this regularly happen to me.

There was no outsourcing, as Pat was at a conference and I’d already ‘taken it easy’ the better part of the last 9 days.  No, it was time to just pull up my big girl pants and get on with it already.  That’s just how life is sometimes.

The last agenda item for the day before calling it quits was Bingo Night at school, something Edie was very much looking forward to. When we first arrived, my daughter got her bingo card, her plate of pizza and proceeded to find herself a spot at a table full of 10 year old girls, giving me a look that pretty much said, ‘You’re on your own Mom’.  Yeh, that day just kept on trucking….

Truth be told, I like bingo because I always seem to win. Which I did last night.  And Edie pretty much beat me to the table in the front to claim my bingo prize, suddenly deciding I was worth acknowledging again now that I was a winner.  There weren’t really any good adult prizes, so I didn’t mind.  When I would visit my Granny in the nursing home and play bingo with her, I always let her claim my prizes – it’s the thrill of the win for me, not the goodies.

Winning definitely helped turn the day around, but you know what really did it?  This delightful treat called a cookies and cream bar that was part of the bake sale.  After convincing two children that were not my own to share theirs with me as well as one of their parents, I finally got up and bought my own.  It was an oreo cookie version of a rice krispie treat. Despite her pretending I wasn’t with her, I did stop and give some to my child, mostly so that she could help me figure out the recipe, which turned out wasn’t necessary, because the recipe was making the rounds of parent conversation.  When I got home, the original blog link was emailed to me, which I’m sharing right there with you all, because it’s worth sharing just as much as the simple no-bake recipe.  These are perfect for the next bake sale you are expected to bring something to and bonus, there’s no baking.  I’m pretty sure you don’t want to make these and just have them around, as they won’t last long – they are definitely better in a sharing environment, unless of course you want to eat the entire pan.  I babbled about these on Facebook last night and someone suggested trying it with homemade marshmellows, but as I said there, I’m not sure you’d want to touch the junk food integrity of these with something wholesome like a homemade marshmellow, but hey, go for it if you want to.  Personally, if I’m going to eat junk food, I’m going all in.

Also discussed on that Facebook thread was my mad skillz in being able to get two children not my own AND a parent to share their candy with me.  I’d like to think that even on an off day I’m that good, but mostly I think there is something about those bars that’s so good and so unhealthy that you just feel the need to share.  Try them and see.

 No bake cookies & cream bars.

Falling in love again.

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We are big college football fans in this house.  HUGE.  If you have spent any time around us in the fall, you know that we may actually be slightly rabid college football fans.  Going to a SEC school will do that to you.  This year though, our alma mater Auburn,  is having a bit of an off-season.  Unwatchable seems to be the word most of our fellow alum use when describing this year’s football team.  It’s gotten so bad that I’ve just given up watching college football altogether, rather than seem like a fair weather fan who can’t watch my own team.   Considering how busy we seem to be on Saturdays, it’s worked out okay.

I spent last week having a touch of cold.  It didn’t take me out, it really wasn’t that bad of a cold,  I just didn’t feel 100%, more like 86.7%.  By Friday, when my friend Allison came into town for a visit, I was feeling almost myself, about a 98.8%.  We went to a lovely party and when we got home, I noticed my voice was a little gravely, but I thought for sure a good night’s sleep would cure it.

I woke up Saturday morning not being able to speak above a whisper.  And even that hurt.  Edie’s dream, where her mother couldn’t cheer her on obnoxiously from the sidelines of the soccer field (I may strongly dislike soccer, I may be a soccer mom against my own will,  but it does not show in my enthusiasm for cheering my daughter on.) quickly turned into her worst nightmare, when I got another mom on our team to cheer for her in a most cheerful and enthusiastic manner.  As she turned and smiled at the woman to acknowledge the cheers, she also managed to sneak in a sideways ‘eat shit and die’ glance at me that confirmed her own personal hell. It’s those little moments that make motherhood so sweet.

I came home from her game, took a hot shower and collapsed into the lazy boy in our bedroom in front of the tv.  Seeing how it was a Saturday in November, there were no less than 3 college football games on our cable less television. I proceeded to spend the rest of the day rediscovering my love affair with college football.  While it’s always good fun to watch the ole ball coach play, the hometown team of Virginia had a ball game going on with Miami that sucked us in, followed by the last two minutes of the Florida- Louisana-Lafayette game which really just geared us up for that Texas A&M- Alabama game which was glorious on so many levels – watching an underdog pull off an upset which in turn upsets the entire National Championship picture.  Even better was watching the downfall of our rival school.  I even decided to go ahead and try to watch the Auburn game, but I was having to stream it and with technology getting the upper hand by deciding to freeze up the screen what felt like every 10 seconds, I took the hint and bagged that idea.  Sunday morning found me reading everything I could about the previous day’s games – it had been a wild day in college football and definitely a good one in which to jump back in and reacquaint oneself. 

It seems losing my voice helped me rediscover my love of college football, which in turn helps me get some serious pre-holiday knitting done.    It’s been a rough season for my team, but the end is in sight.  I can’t say the same for my whisper voice right now, but it’s a great excuse to take it easy and sit & knit with a nice hot toddy while I wait for it’s return.

We made it.

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No, I’m not talking about the election season, although I’m very grateful that’s over with.

We made it through the latest challenging parenting phase.

Beginning at the age of two, the end of August/start of September, marks the start of a phase in her development that is well, difficult.  When she was two and three, it was expressed in the form of colossal bedtime meltdowns.  Every night for weeks (okay, months) on end was a new level of epic.  It was brutal.

Bedtime meltdowns are fewer and farther apart now, but that time of year still has the tendency to bring some new challenge.  This year’s version included a best girlfriend moving to another country and starting at a new school.  A school that was bigger and much different than her sweet little elementary school, where she had kindergartners hugging her when she got on the bus in the morning and she had known everyone there seemingly her entire life, to a school that challenged her far more academically than she had ever been challenged previously and she certainly didn’t know everyone anymore.  Change is something my girl doesn’t always deal well with, even when she has a long lead time to gear herself up for said change.  And she had plenty of lead time for these changes, which admittedly, were plentiful.

Yesterday afternoon, the phone rang, one of the neighborhood kids, asking for a ride somewhere.  This particular one has left for college, college being that little state university here in town, so he’s still somewhat of a regular around here, known to run through the neighborhood on his morning run. He had come ‘home’ to vote and needed a ride back to make it to class on time.  Edie looks up to this young man, so she came along for the ride.  Along the way, we talked about his transition to college, how he had found it harder than he expected.  I looked in the back seat and I could see my girl nodding her head.  That’s when I knew she was getting past the changes and settling in.  Something about hearing Addison admit to struggling with change opened up something in her, and just like that I could tell, we’re ready to move into the next phase of her life.

It was a bumpy transition, but I think it’s safe to say, we’re on the other side.  It only dawned on me yesterday that we just stared down the 10 year old version of the 2 year old bedtime meltdown phase, with this one including some far more troubling behaviors like skirting responsibility and some dishonesty.   It was definitely rough at times, but I kept in the back of my mind something my Granny used to always say, that it’s all just a phase and that it would pass.

There’s no warning that the sweet little helpless baby you bring into the world goes from being physically demanding to mentally demanding in ways you cannot imagine.  That as they become more self sufficient and seemingly less in need of your full attention as to what they are up to, that they in fact still need a huge chunk of your attention, although slightly veiled, because you can’t hover too closely, too openly.  That the transition of knowing what’s wrong with them and being able to fix it to having to let go and watch them move through the world, not being able to fix what’s wrong is agonizing.  That if you let it, parenthood will make you be a better person, forcing you to grow and change along with that beautiful sweet baby that you know is still in there somewhere, despite how hard they push you away.  Parenthood is a constant exercise in letting go, bit by bit, so that your child is someday able to make their own way through the big world out there, because really, isn’t that the end goal, that they become responsible, independent citizens of the world?  It’s scary, it’s exhausting and it’s the greatest experience one can ever have.

Remind me of that this time next year and the year after and the year after that and so on and so forth, mmkay?

The Festival of the Bromance.

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Oysterfest, the best holiday of the entire year, the one that kicks off the entire grand holiday season, has come and gone.

Many oysters were eaten.  
Pork rinds were consumed.
 Surprisingly enough, my entire fried food quotient this year was one bag of pork rinds, despite the allure of so many over the top fried delicacies.
This year’s winner for the the most over the top fried treat?
 
Deep fried cinnamon rolls, rolled in bacon bits.
 
That bacon didn’t look nearly as good as the bacon we had back on the grill.
I’m pretty sure Ryan grilled meat from the time he arrived Friday until they left Sunday morning.
 Ryan brought a cooler of lamb & pork he’d raised, Dave brought rockfish he’d caught, there was even some Ankole sausage courtesy of Rieman’s father.  There was also the usual gathering of crockpots, breads, biscuits and other treats made by the sisterhood to round out the meat, oysters and fried foods.
The girls have gotten big enough to pitch in too, with Edie and Abigail baking a coffee cake Saturday morning.  Why yes, that is a bread knife Abigail is using to cut the butter.  She grabbed the first knife she saw laying around.
This year’s stellar bloody mary table was also a staging area for the nearby grill.
Or perhaps you like a hunk of meat in your drink?
No wonder someone thought this was a great event to have a free health screening at.  
There were plenty of our usual traditions, like the Fire Truck Parade Friday night, where the kids try to sit as close as possible to the loudest parade you’ve ever heard. (Don’t worry, we all wear ear plugs)
 
 There is the Saturday afternoon parade, full of Shriners.
 There is she crab bisque from the church on Main Street that is not to be missed.

 We added the oyster shucking competition this year to things we do at Oysterfest.
Those ladies were serious about their oyster shucking.
And we were serious about eating them.
This little guy, the newest addition to the Smiley clan, kept the sisterhood from hitting the bar Friday night, but it did get us a free ticket to wander around the fest by ourselves (accompanied by young Walker of course) Saturday afternoon. We were going to hit the wine garden, but the line was too long.  And we had wine at home.
We also enjoyed some quiet time to ourselves in this year’s back yard fort, as always, courtesy of Brooke, in the form of a pop-up camper that made for a most excellent grown up hide out.
There was plenty of the usual piles of kids and us trying to get them all to gather for one nice picture, whether posed or not posed.

The swords were Ryan’s Sunday morning craft project.  
When we got home last night, I found Edie curled up asleep in the den, clutching it, her souvenir of a good weekend.
They even ate in a pile, declaring this chair the “Mac and Cheese Chair”.
There were plenty of other moments that make the weekend so special, year after year.
 

The most notable moment comes Saturday afternoon, after the parade where someone realizes it’s only 3:30, how can it only be 3:30 when it feels like at least 5:30? Good god, how are we ever going to make it to put the kids to bed, can’t they go to bed at 5?  
Saturday of Oysterfest is the longest day of the year. 
Oysterfest isn’t just about a grill full of meat all weekend, or piles of kids or fried food or parades, it’s the official holiday of the bromance.

The entire group of men have a very strong bromance.  And every last one of the operates on the assumption that if you have a bromance with one of them, well then, you will have a bromance with all of them.
There’s a lot of love between those boys.

So much so that there is an entire holiday based on it.

Snow on the Mountains.

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 While the Eastern Seaboard was pounded and the nearby mountains got snow, we were spared the worst of the great storm Sandy.  Nevertheless, everything around here pretty much closed down as we had no idea what to expect.
 We hunkered down and enjoyed the quiet time with just the three us at home, nowhere to go, nothing to do.  It was much needed.  Our days tend to be pretty packed, some days I feel like all I do is go from this activity to that activity to another with some cooking thrown in the middle.  It felt so good to get a break from that.

We have been spared the worst brunt of the storm, but we have seen clouds from this system for almost a week.  The clouds in these shots, taken yesterday as I headed west of town, are still lingering from Sandy.  This morning there were still some clouds out there, but I also got a glimpse of that elusive thing called the sun peeking through as well.

 

It never fails to amaze me at how different the weather can be between two areas so relatively close, how we are 20 minutes from snow – you can see it from town on the surrounding mountains, and we’ve yet to have that first good hard freeze.  Nature is quite amazing and never fails to let us know we’re really not the ones in charge. 

The Boss.

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4:00 pm yesterday afternoon the phone rang.  It was Guitar Shop Ryan (not to be confused with several other Ryans we know and love), wondering if I wanted to claim his spare ticket to the evening’s Bruce Springsteen concert.
Having already passed on a free Bruce show once that day (motherhood and schlepping someone to piano lessons took precedence), I saw this as karma for letting motherhood make me a better person without a lot of grumbling. Okay, so maybe motherhood was the excuse I used when really my main reason for skipping the free show downtown that afternoon was because it was also a political rally and I just simply cannot. stomach. any. more. politics. at. all. on either side.  I’m not a huge Bruce fan, but his concerts are legendary.  I did spring for a ticket a few years ago, spending more than I swore I would ever pay (and will ever pay) again for any concert, and it was worth it. And here a free ticket was being offered up.  Hell yeah I’ll take it.

The seats were terrific.  The last time I saw Bruce, we had nosebleed seats, I swear I could touch the roof of the arena we were up so high and they were off to the side, so down low, smack dab in the center, was perfect.  The first time I saw Bruce, I thought it was an amazing show.  This one blew that experience away.  Three solid hours.  And words absolutely escape me at beginning to describe it. 
A Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band show isn’t just a concert.  It’s a mystical, spiritual, musical, patriotic and all that is right with the world happening.  It is an experience every music fan should have at least once.  Even if you aren’t a huge Bruce fan, you cannot walk away from that show without an overwhelming amount of respect for the musicians on that stage.  I fail to find the words that adequately convey the energy of last night’s show.  The entire arena singing the opening verse and chorus of “Hungry Heart” (a 45 I still have!), Bruce crowd surfing his way from the platform midway through the floor section back to the stage,  pulling audience members up to dance on stage for “Dancing in the Dark”.   Closing with a kick ass rendition of “Tenth Avenue Freeze-out”.  Very quite possibly the best concert I’ve been to, which I know is a strong phrase, but I stand by it.  Definitely.
I’m blogging for the C-ville Weekly today, on our adventures in beets. 
And just a reminder, you have one more day to enter the cookbook giveaway. Facebook comments, emails and blog comments are all accepted as entries. 

More on biscuits, plus a salad.

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That long weekend in which I perfected pizza crust, sourdough bread AND the biscuit?
Well it turns out that even if you do work out 5 days a week and can eat your weight in carbs thanks to your good Irish genes, a massive overdose on white flour where one eats the better part of a pizza one day followed by at least an entire loaf of sourdough baguette a few days later and follows that up with 4 biscuits at dinner the next night with 2 for breakfast the morning after over a 5 day span will result in a muffin top just like your girlfriends warned you about once you are at a certain age, which apparently I now am.
So, after hitting the gym hard and watching my carb intake, especially my not-quite-entirely-healthy carb intake and getting that waistband on my jeans to fit like it should, I was ready to get back on that biscuit project.  As I stated in my last post about biscuits, I want to come up with a whole grain biscuit that is light, fluffy, tasty AND easy on my waist line no matter how many I eat in one sitting.  I’ve spent serious time reading and talking with my other foodie friends about types of flour and fat and had a few ideas I wanted to try out.
I also acquired an assistant in my mission.
After watching countless hours of Julia Child and Jacques Pepin, along with a little bit of bow tie guy that she won’t admit to watching (She claims to not like him and last week’s profile in New York Times Magazine with the title “Cooking Isn’t Creative and It Isn’t Easy” sent her on a good 20 minute tirade of how that’s exactly why she cannot. stand. him.) on PBS’s Create channel, my girl decided she wanted in on the great biscuit project.
So, I measured out the flour proportions I wanted to try and she took over, with a small assist from me on working in the butter.
The recipe we used calls for 3 cups of flour.  We did one cup whole wheat, one and a half cups all purpose flour and a half cup cake flour.  For the fat, we did equal parts lard and butter.  We cut the lard in first and the butter second.
The biscuits themselves were light and slightly crumbly.  I think the flour mixture was spot on.  I want to play around the amount of lard – I think next time we’ll do a quarter lard and three quarters butter.  I also will cut the butter, or at least most of it, in first, as the lard is ridiculously easy to cut in.
I’ve now tried lard in both a pie crust and a batch of biscuits.  It does make your pastry incredibly flaky, but it also imparts a certain animal taste.  I like it in the chicken pot pie, but not so much in biscuits.  Toasted for breakfast, smothered in butter and Grandma Kathy’s blackberry jam I didn’t notice the flavor as much, admittedly.  But I also am not that much of a fan of meat or the taste of it in general.  I like bacon and sausage, but I mostly prefer the smoky flavor and the spices involved more than anything else. Although the flavor, combined with the larger size biscuits Edie cut out definitely kept me to eating just two biscuits with my soup and salad.
The salad is worth mentioning.  We had some goat’s milk brie and some toasted pecans that she thought would pair wonderfully with dried cranberries and the arugula I always seem to have on hand and work into dinner a few nights a week.  Only we didn’t have any dried cranberries on hand.  What we did have though, was some cranberry spread I’d made last year.  I proposed the idea of using it as a basis for a dressing.  So, down we went to the shelves in the basement where all things canned, pickled and jammed are kept and grabbed a jar.  We thinned it with olive oil, lemon juice, honey and water until it was just the right consistency, then tossed it with the greens, cheese and nuts.
It was a darn good salad.  And she did a most excellent job on the biscuits too.  Definitely some proud mama moments as I watched my little foodie go to work in the kitchen last night.
As for the dressing,  I think the liquid proportions with the exception of the honey ended up being equal.  Using a fruit spread (or jam) as the basis of a salad dressing seemed pretty genius to me and I’m now brainstorming ways of using up my stash on the shelves down there.  At some point I might measure things and write out a real recipe to share, although I definitely will be making a batch of cranberry spread again this year and if you like cranberries, I recommend you make some too.  It’s easy and oh so good.
Reminder – the cookbook giveaway is still open, so get on over there and enter before this Thursday, October 25.

Something new?

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I’m bored with my clothes right now.  I have no good transition pieces for this time of year.  I feel it’s too early to break out the wool and velvet, too chilly for linen, I’m not quite into wearing cords yet and I really hate all my jeans right now.  This morning I remembered I still had a balance on my Marshalls gift card that my girl scout troop gave me as a thank you for leading the troop last year, so I took myself shopping.  I spent an hour wandering around, trying things on and left with this:

A new black cardigan.
Black cardigans have been a staple of my closet since high school.  This would be black cardigan number Five in my closet currently,  not to be confused with the black velvet blazer collection.  Thankfully, both work with the black wool pleated Talbots skirt collection and the black velvet pants collection I’ve got going on.   
I wear a lot of black. And the same styles, clearly, if you are familiar with the demin skirt (as seen above) that my college girlfriends have pointed out I’ve worn since at least 1992. Although the one I’m wearing there is a newish one, acquired this summer while thrifting.  Edie has taken to calling me ‘goth mom’. Apparently, she didn’t get the memo that my style hasn’t changed since 1986, despite adding some charcoal grey in the form of cardigans and at least one wool pleated Talbots skirt and the occasional pink shirt as seen above.
The lines of this new one are divine.  And it’s cashmere.  And the price was just right.  Ultimately, both Edie & Betty highly approved my purchase, even if it’s yet another black cardigan.
I did try something new in the kitchen today though.

Fermenting peppers. 
I’m on this quest to make a good hot sauce.  Something more interesting than just peppers and vinegar.  I’ve read that fermenting is the key to Tabasco, so why not try that as my first step?  Pat’s dad, Grandpa Jack, brought me a grocery bag of habarenos that I combined with various chili’s.   I can already tell you that you need eye protection when opening the jar the fumes are so hot.  Should be good stuff.
But of course while trying something new, I had to go with what I know. 

Pickled peppers.
We opened a jar of last year’s batch a few weeks ago to eat on some nachos and they were so good we ate the entire jar. I think I used this recipe in making that batch (I used like 3 different pickled pepper recipes last summer and this one I identified by the spices in the bottom of the jar, I think.) so I went with that one again.  There are some baby pablanos in there, some jalapenos that had turned red that Grandpa Jack shared with us and then a boatload of jalapenos from our garden in there.
It’s worth noting that I finally remembered to wear gloves.  Although I did cut into the first habareno, rub my lips and then realize I should put some gloves on.  The tingling wasn’t nearly as bad as last time though.
This something new kick started the other day when I brought some beets home from the farmer’s market.  We like the idea of them, but I never seem to make them.  So I set about fixing that. You know what?  We still only like the idea of them.  The reality is, they taste like dirt. We are still willing to try some pickled, but we, as a family, may be quite willing to declare ourselves beet free.
As the saying goes, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.  In our house, that clearly applies to things like beets, pickled peppers and black cardigans.  Did I mention the new one was cashmere?

All you need to know.

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Last year, on the first day of fourth grade, Edie’s teacher went around the room and asked each child to use one word to describe themselves.  Edie’s word?  “Awesome”.

Come the parent teacher conference the first week in November and Edie’s teacher was in full agreement with her.  It became sort of a running theme in school last year, with one of her friends, who had to write about her in an assignment, wrote, “The reason Edie tells people she’s awesome is because she only tells people what they what they really need to know.”

Edie played soccer for the same coach for 5 seasons – from the time she moved up to U-10 in second grade until this past spring.  Coach Bill isn’t coaching U-12 this season, so we had to find a new team, which meant a new coach.  While she’s on a team with her school friends for the first time ever, her new coaches don’t know that she prefers to play defense, they are all about following the league rules and having all the girls play all the positions.  Which means everyone gets at a turn at goalie. 

She’s never played goalie.  Last season when asked, she told Coach Bill she wasn’t playing goalie because she could break a nail.

Seriously.  Instead, she played defense and probably saved more goals than the girl who played goalie that day, only because she couldn’t use her hands, her nails were safe.

These are the things that truly matter to my girl.

Saturday morning as we were setting up by the sidelines, we noticed Edie wearing a goalie shirt.  “Did she know she was playing goalie?” “I don’t know, she didn’t mention it.” 

Turns out, she didn’t know until about 2 minutes before the game started.  So, with absolutely no experience, no practice and no warning, she stepped into the goal box. 

Of course the ball immediately came her way.  And stayed down there most of the half.  Pat counted 5 saves within the first 5 minutes of the game.  The team they played were fast, tall and good.  No way could you tell she’d not ever played that position before.  She had 10 saves in all the first half, giving up just one to a girl who was just so determined to score a goal you could see it on her face as she charged up the field over and over.

I am so proud of my girl, who just stepped in and DID it.  Sure, she has her moments of serious not-quite-11-year-old girl attitude, some of her limit pushing these days has us at our limits trying to figure out how to deal with it,  she even has her moments of self doubt, but she also has this wonderful ability to pick things up and just run with it, fearlessly, and kick ass at it.   She really does tell you all you need to know when she describes herself as awesome. I may be slightly biased, but I couldn’t agree more.