Shirleys Cottage

RESUMING BLOGS

2008-11-15T16:07:00.002-06:00

HI FRIENDS AND FAMILY
ALL FEW OF YOU
AS SOON AS I CAN FIND ALL MY COLUMNS SINCE 9/21/O8 I WILL PUT THEM ON MY BLOG.
MY OLD AND NEW JOBS HAVE HAD ME BRAIN DEAD FOR AWHILE
UNTIL THEN, MY COLUMN IS ON THE INTERNET WITH OUR NEWSPAPERS NEW WEBSITE: cambridgeenews.com

could you write a book?

2008-09-21T21:01:00.001-05:00

Could You Write a Book?
Maybe I could write a book. Maybe not. By the time I get to the end of my recipe every week and bid you to enjoy, the creative juices I worked so hard to muster up, have gone south.
It is said there is a book inside of all of us. Today it seems like everyone who is anyone is writing a tell-all book. Politicians from Barack Obama to Joe Biden; McCain’s daughter about her dad; the Spears sisters’ mom who doesn’t keep a secret. Barbara Walters even told about a decades old affair in her memoir.
I know several people who are just regular people who have written books. My hat is off to them. I think about it a lot and wish I could be one of them. But "wishin’ don’t make it so."
Last week was my sweet granddaughter’s wedding shower. My old friend, Judy, were the first ones there. Everything was beautiful, from the elegantly set table, the flowers, and most of all, the guests.
As each group got there, the chatter and laughter got louder, I sat and watched, thoroughly enjoying the scene. At that moment, I was more of an observer than a participant.
I knew them all very well. I watched, wished, and thought, "I could write a book."
Paige’s future sister-in-law os the only one we did not know. Not at the beginning.. By the time the last gift was opened, and the last little dessert cup disappeared, . Rachel was family.
And–she had the most interesting stories to tell. She works in televison and movies in production. She described her job as doing everything that anyone needed done.
She had been a producer for the Jerry Springer Show. Not her cup of tea, but what a ride that was!
Her last job was working on the Johnny Depp movie, about John Dillinger, Public Enemy.. It was shot at four locations in Wisconsin, one being Columbus. She said Depp and Christian Bale were really nice, would sign autographs for an hour at a time. They treated people well.
It was fun listening to the stories, being as most of us are star-struck.
I could write a book. Just think. My grand-daughter is going to marry the brother of one of the producers that know Johnny and Christian by their first names.
As I sipped on my second glass of mimosa,(everyone knew it is orange juice and champagne except me) I looked at the beautiful people surrounding the table. What a family and friends to be proud of. And they all have a story-even if it does not involve Johnny Depp.
Their stories are what books are made of. Studs Terkel is in his 90's. He just wrote another book. Maybe, just maybe, I can write that book. Just give me a little time.
Do you know what books are the biggest seller? You guessed it. Cook-books
From The Ladies Auxiliary of Harmony Singing Society
Enjoy Casserole
you will need:
one 16 oz elbow macaroni, not cooked
one can each Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom and Celery Soup
one diced onion
½ pound Velveeta, cubed
2 cups milk
2-2 ½ cups cooked chicken
1 large can mushroom, drained
Mix all ingredients and place in baking dish
refrigerate overnight or for several hours
Bake 350 degrees for one hour
Let set for ten minutes
enjoy

2008-09-08T11:58:00.000-05:00

Show Me The Money
My daughter keeps a positive thought-she is planning on winning the lottery. No matter what happens, that is the attitude to have.
I am a little more apprehensive. I wish.
Tom Cruise said it in "Jerry Maquire". I say it to myself as I slide my ticket under the red light every Thursday and Sunday mornings– "SHOW ME THE MONEY". Twice it said "you’re a winner." One time for three dollars and another for seven.
There was another time a long time ago. I just knew I was going to win. Ted had just committed to attend UW Madison. I bought a pick three ticket with the signing date. Had the numbers come up in order, I would have won $5.000. They were not in order–$43.00. But it was the feeling I had that I will never forget. I didn’t even have to check the numbers the next day. I knew I had a winner. I’m waiting for that feeling again.
Last Sunday when I checked the numbers, my ticket was in my right hand and the Sunday paper in my left.
As I dropped yet another ticket into the "sorry no winner" waste basket, I glanced at the paper.
The front page of the PARADE had a picture of Warren Buffet, 78, the richest man in the world. He had a nice smile and bright eyes that looked right at you behind his glasses. His slightly rumpled shirt made him look a little less like a billionaire.
When I got home I read what he had to say. Someone who has a fortune of $62 billion, (that’s with a B), must have a few smarts.
He offered ten ways to get rich, the first being, Reinvest your profits. Well, I did that. I took that money I won and bought more tickets. Maybe you have to try a few times to succeed.
Then I got to number ten: Know what success really means.
> he does not measure success by dollars
>he has pledged to give away almost his entire fortune to charities (he will keep a few bucks)
> His last paragraph of the article:
"When you get to my age, you’ll measure success by how many people you want to have love you actually do love you. That is the ultimate test of how you’ve lived your life."

Jerry Maquire figured it out, too, when Dorothy aka Renee Zwelliger said to him, "You had me at hello." Show me the money was not the ultimate test.
I hope I am loved. I can’t help it. I would love to win the lottery.
Money isn’t everything, but it sure helps. Especially now with groceries sky-rocketing.
. This can be made for under $4.00, less if you have a neighbor with a load of zucchinis to give away, and a coupon or two. It’s also healthy and good.
Cheeseburger-zucchini Pie
you will need: (feeds four)
one pie plate or 8" square pan, sprayed
3/4 pound ground beef or turkey
1 medium onion, chopped
1 zucchini shredded or cut into sticks (neighbors are giving away their abundance)
1/2-1 cup shredded cheese of your choice
½ cup reduced-fat biscuit mix
1 cup skim milk
2 eggs (or three whites)
salt and pepper to taste
(I added some mushrooms)
brown meat, drain if necessary
stir in zucchini, onion (mushrooms)
cook for 6 minutes
season with salt and pepper
Spread mixture into pie plate
Whisk biscuit mix, egg, and milk until smooth
pour over meat mixture
Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes
cool 5-10 minutes, cut into wedges
enjoy

Summer's end from the cottage

2008-09-04T18:36:00.000-05:00

Summer’s End
Didn’t we just put the boats and piers in the water? Wasn’t it just yesterday, July Fourth, we watched the amazing fireworks over the lake? It seemed like the rain never stopped this summer. And here we are in September, lawns parched, looking for a little patch of green, learning to do a rain dance.
According to the calendar, there are several weeks left of summer. But the real story is, it is virtually over for most of us.
Oh, there may be a pontoon ride here and there, or a last speedboat ride around the lake. But it’s kind of a "I don’t want to give up the summer". The last hurrah.
Most of the vacationers, week-enders, and visitors have packed up their SUVs, vans, or little cars, and headed for home. Our family did just that for many years. There were years we packed kids and stuff into out vehicle at that time: a Ford wagon with the wooden side, a brown and beige Suburban whose main feature was rust that started at the doors and worked its way up.
Now, I wave good-by, sit on the deck, and am glad I am already home.
Labor Day we had what was probably our last hurrah for the summer. As we enjoyed the weather and the sights on the lake, the smells of summer didn’t even occur to me.
A neighbor was gassing up his boat. Deb said the smells were her favorite: gas fumes mixed with the smell of the lake, and Coppertone, coming across the breeze. A goodd memory.
It has been, in my words, "A lovely summer." On Labor Day, we took a ride around the lake. . Jade’s big dog, Pearl, had her first ride in a boat. Her eyes said, "A lovely ride." She loved it.
Our family is between babies and young ones right now. My kids are grown with grown kids of their own. I’m thinking the next several years the grandkids (great-grandkids for me) will finally outnumber the dogs in the family.
The end of summer really is a new beginning-of Autumn. That’s what makes the Midwest so lovable. The seasons. The reasons for starting anew.
Soup and the Fall just go together. I’ll get a jump on the season with this squash soup. Now if you do not care for squash, there is nothing in this recipe that will cure that.
If you like squash, I bet you will love this. I tried to copy this from soup we had at a lunch with old friends. I think it turned out pretty well.
Squash Soup with Mangos
you will need:
one medium squash-any kind, like butternut or acorn, seeded, peeled and cut into 2 inch pieces
2 cups chicken broth
2 cups half and half or whole milk
3 T butter
4 T flour
½ t each nutmeg and cinnamon
1 T dark brown sugar
1 mango, peeled and cut into 1 inch pieces
salt and pepper to taste
cook squash in one cup broth
mash squash
make roux out of butter and flour
add remaining broth to squash
add roux to soup, stirring on medium heat until beginning to thicken
stir in spices
add cream while continuing to stir
when soup is thick, add mango and turn off heat.
Sprinkle nutmeg on top
Serve with croutons (optional)
Enjoy

2008-08-26T18:39:00.000-05:00

A Shower, A Party, A Benefit

Except for work, and an occasional meeting or visit, I stay pretty close to the lake. I like it that way. But there are times when I am glad to leave the lake road for a little while. September will be such a time.
I have received invitations for a wedding shower, a fund-raising benefit, and a surprise birthday party. They don’t seem to have any connection. On second thought----
The shower. Given for a twenty-five-year old beauty with a ready smile, and a tender heart. She is a college graduate, and has recently started her own business. She also works for a photographer and has snapped several weddings. In October, someone else will be photographing her as a beautiful bride.
It will be fun. Females of all ages, laughing and talking all at once. We will meet in a lovely room, enjoying which will surely be a delicious chicken salad and good wine.
She starts a new life. With a toast, we will wish her the same happiness and future some of us have had, and what some of us have hoped for.
The surprise party. Given for a lovely soon-to-be 70 year old. An energetic, professional, mom and grandma, she believes the saying-"Seventy is the new fifty." In retirement she will go places and do things she could not do as a single mom..
A pot luck and barbeque will await as she walks into the back yard of her son’s home.. And don’t forget the birthday cake with fifty candles.
She starts a new life. With a toast, we will send her on her way to enjoy
The benefit. Given for a pretty wife and mom. She is a busy, active young woman. .For many years she was in the Army Reserve. Now she works for her county, and the YMCA. She is also a dedicated Sunday school teacher and confirmation leader. She has packed a lifetime into a little over two decades.
The benefit dinner will be in her honor. Her loved ones, family and friends will gather as one, giving love and support as she begins a new journey. She will know she will not encounter the bumps in the road alone.
With a toast, we will wish her well, and pray for the gift of time.
When all is said an done, somehow we are all connected in some way or other. These three beautiful people do not even know each other. Yet they are brought together in the hearts of some of the same people who love them and will honor them during three weeks in September.

Shower, party, or benefit, food is a great connector. From chicken salad to barbeque to a buffet dinner, food brings us together, with conversation and good will.

Let us start the parties with nut-filled cups.
Sugared Pecans from the Lithuanian Club Ladies Society recipe book
you will need:
1 pound pecans
½ cup sugar
1/4 t salt
1 t cinnamon
1 egg white
1 t cold water
Beat egg white and water until frothy.
Add the pecans
Mix sugar, salt and cinnamon
Add the nut mixture, stirring until well covered
Bake at 225 degrees on buttered cookie sheet for one hour, stirring every 15 minutes
Enjoy

how does your garden grow

2008-08-19T16:56:00.002-05:00

And How Does Your Garden Grow
Several years ago, my friend, Bill, and his wife pulled up stakes in the North Woods and moved to Tennessee. Not only he and his wife, but his dad, her mom, and their various dogs and cats. They had visited Bill’s brother a few times. He had been in the service, but was now a civilian working for the military in Tennessee.
They bought a beautiful home in the country where Bill could have his gardens. His dad was settled into his own new home.
Judy got a job working for the government. Bill is a manager for a firm that wholesales flowers, plants, and trees. Right down his alley.
Tennessee is a beautiful state and all was well with the world. We kept in touch via phone and email. He never missed a week of calling once or twice. I did the same with email.
The conversations always had some questions and advice on how to grow a garden.
He sends me pictures of his gardens. I get jealous of all the produce he was growing, giving it away because of the abundance.
He suggested I try to have my own garden. Starting small with a few tomatoes and herbs. He said growing in pots was very popular and there were good results more often than not.
I love gardens. Beautiful flowers, fresh vegetables. Eating healthy. The only thing is I don’t want to weed, water, or work. I hate to sweat and see bugs, and get mud under my nails.
I made up my mind this season I would tough it out. I would try tomatoes and herbs in pots on my deck. It gets sun from am to pm. I made a commitment to water those pots every day.
I even got some petunia vines. The morning glory seeds took root. Someone told me morning glories are just weeds run amuck, but I don’t care. I like them.
With advice and encouragement from Bill, my flowers bloomed, and my tomatoes are ripening in bunches. The basil is beautiful. The cilantro bit the dusk. It got to looking like dill, and died in the pot.
But, all in all, I am pretty happy with my first "crop". I went to email Bill to thank him for his help, and there was a message from Bill–they’re coming home. Tennessee is beautiful, but it is not Wisconsin. Homesickness is a terrible disease.
It’s not that I like Bill’s vegetables better than I like him, but I can’t help thinking of the bounty he will be growing. And I will be getting.
However, I still will be expanding my patio garden. I have to. He is bringing me two whiskey barrels. I don’t think he means for me to grow whiskey..
I have my seeds, I’ll have my barrels, and next year I’ll have my garden. But most of all, I’ll have my friend. Back in Wisconsin where he and his belong.
Since I finally got something to grow, I thought I would use my "bounty" in this healthy dish.
Printed in the Wisconsin Woman, September, 2008
I had a few questions, so I called Harvest, the restaurant that printed the recipe.
. I talked to James and he was most gracious. He knew two answers to my three questions.
1. What does Panzanella mean? Bread salad.
2. Does cut into batons mean to cut into strips? Yes
3. What is a kirby? He didn’t know, but said to call back the next day when Chef Derek would be in.
Panzanella (bread salad)
served at Harvest, on Capitol Square
recipe by executive chef Derek Rowe
you will need:
2 cups cubed toasted bread
2-3 cubed tomatoes
½ English (seedless) cucumber or one kirby cut in batons
1/4 cup sherry (I used red wine) vinegar
½ cup olive oil
1/4 cup fresh basil, torn into pieces
kosher salt and pepper to taste
Assemble all ingredients (except the basil) 5-10 minutes before serving allowing flavors to blend and bread to absorb the dressing.
Toss with the torn basil right before serving.
(Note; If some chicken strips were placed on top, you would have a whole meal to
Enjoy.

I didn't mean to send this, not my coluimn

2008-08-19T16:56:00.000-05:00

Utica is a small farming community just a hop and a skip from Cambridge and the Lake Ripley area.
The main street of Utica is a four way stop with its businesses on each corner Several blocks either way from the stop signs, and you are out of town. A mile or so down the road is the Utica Community Center grounds which sponsors events from baseball to picnics, to tractor pulls. The rest of the countryside is dotted with rich soil beautiful scenery and well-kept farms.
Ask any native and they will tell you Utica is just the way they want it.
If you are not a resident, there are plenty of reasons to take the seven or so mile trip south on 73 from Cambridge and west on BB.
Are you looking for a good deal on a car? Melton’s is right at the four-way.
Kitty corner across the street is Mitch’s Utica Bar. The full parking lot every Friday night is proof Utica has the best fish fry around these parts.
The third corner houses Encore, a quality furniture refinishing business. Many a broken and scratched piece has been refinished to its original beauty.
The fourth corner houses the country store. Except for the coolers, it could be a model for the general store of the Walton’s or Little house on the Prairie..
A little over thirty years ago, Barney Lambert and his wife, Jackie Sperle, came to Utica, bought the store, and it became Barney’s Country Store. The upstairs was their home. The back yard became a "prairie" with the array of wild flowers and plants to compliment their love of nature and the outdoors.
There is a cement porch across the front of the store. A few steps takes you up to the porch, and the front door. There is no automatic opener. You have to enter the old-fashioned way–turn the knob and push. The cow bell mounted at the top of the door announces your arrival.
Behind the short wooden counter sits a cash register that does not figure the change or plug into a computer. And there is Barney. He is a slight man with a firm handshake. He is neatly dressed in jeans, checked shirt, and cowboy boots. His brown eyes are friendly and look you right in the eye.
Meeting his wife Jackie, is almost like meeting Barney. Her brown pig-tails are peppered with gray, just like Barney’s beard. They are dressed almost alike, except she wears several pieces of Indian and turquoise jewelry-all of which mean something to her and Barney.
They met through a mutual friend and have been married for over thirty years. It was an instant match. To each other and to the store.
Jackie said the store is really the reflection of all of their customers. The walls and shelves are full of things that have been given to them through the years. A framed sketch of the store hangs on the wall behind the counter. There are wind chimes, pictures, and memorabilia, all from their customers. Another open room to the side offers things for sale, all made by their customers and friends. .There are Afghans, quilts, jellies, jams, pickles and home-made craft items.
Barney is most proud of his collage of snapshots he has collected over the years. The first Halloween in business, he took pictures of the trick-or-treaters that came into the store. He took pictures every year since then. Some of the first pictures are the parents of his most recent Halloweeners. Three decades of Halloween history.
During the interview several customers came in the side door. Maybe the cowbell is only for interviewers and first-time customers.
One young woman came in with a smile and lots of hay on her jeans and in the change she dumped on the counter. It was a lot of change. Barney cashed it in-she said thanks-see you tomorrow and out she went.
Another older lady came in. She sat down to rest while Jackie cut her order of cheese from a large cheese wheel on a butcher block near the back of the store. Wrapping it in butcher paper, Jackie handed it to her, taking her change with a thank-you. It was a little bit of change.
Next to the cheese stands the only thing that does not seem like it should be in the store: a seven-foot cardboard bigger than life cut-out of Michael Jordan. It was a gift from their nephew.
And so thirty years passed quickly for Barney and Jackie. The couple decided they wanted to do some traveling and spend more time with family in their retirement years. They put the store up for sale.
There might have been some takers, but they wanted the store to remain a country store. It would take owners that would put their hearts and souls into the store and serving the community of Utica.
But after two or so years of not finding the right buyer, Barney and Jackie made the decision to put the store up for auction. It was to be auctioned off last June, 2008. It was a sad time, yet a time that had to come.
To their joy, the auction never took place. Two weeks before the auction, it was sold to two young men who would put their hearts and souls into the store and Utica.
Barney and Jackie are moved out now, living on the Sperle family farm in Stoughton, planning their future..
They should have no fear for the future of the Utica Country Store. Lynn Peterson and Darren Mossman are making some changes, yet dedicated to keeping their store country .
Maybe some things are meant to be. When sadness hits, positive things can happen. Lynn’s father passed away, and Lynn moved back to Utica, to be with his mom, Helen.
With the auction coming up, he kept thinking about the store. He shared his idea with his friend, Darren Mossman. The idea became reality.
They bought the store before the auction. Darren moved upstairs and runs the store full-time. Lynn is a building inspector for the city of Madison. He has kept his job, but that does not stop him from doing his fair share in the store.
Not a whole lot has changed. That is the way they want it. However, they are renovating some things, including the refrigeration.
The new specialty is their home-made pizza. Two new ovens have been installed. It is a thin-crust pizza, and Darren said it has been very-well received.
They have had customers from other communities, and plan to advertise. Maybe their pizza will become as popular as Mitch’s fish fry across the street.
The Utica Country Stores and its customers will have the best of two worlds: Barney and Jackie’s general store concept that gave them thirty years of success, and Lynn and Darren’s plan to keep the old and introduce the new.
The new things will have to find a place of their own. Barney and Jackie left everything for the new owners. Except for one thing. Michael Jordan.
The Utica Country Store is open seven days a week from7 am to 9 pm. Stop in and say hi to Lynn and Darren. Call ahead for pizza. 608-873-9936. You can use the front door. The cow bell will announce you.

2008-08-12T16:31:00.000-05:00

Memories and Cookies
It was a hectic weekend. The kind you look forward to, turns out great, and take a deep breath when it is over. The kind when you get your hugs, say your good-byes, tear up a little as your loved ones drive away, waving. They get out of sight; you miss them already.
My Minnesota family, Kelly, Doug, and Sam had been here for the week. Kelly’s best friend, Elaine, came for a day on the lake with her family. They love the lake. We wish them well in their new home on Lake Waubesa.
Elaine commented on one of my columns, saying she likes the ones about the old days. They remind her of growing up with her two sisters, and some of the things they did.
Then the next day I had some errands in town. I was asked if I had a good cookie recipe. She makes them for the guys at work. They are like the three bears. They want their cookies not too hard, not too soft, but just right.
I immediately thought of the cookie recipe from Elaine. She brought some last year when I was recouping from my creaky knee. I haven’t made them yet. But I sure ate them. The best.
So-here are a few memories. And cookies.
We were sitting on the pontoon, reminiscing. Kelly said Deb used to hold her hand over Kelly’s mouth and say, "Can you breathe?" When she nodded yes, she would pinch her nose. "Can you breathe now?" When she nodded no, she let go.
Not all memories are that funny . The sad ones tend to fade. The poignant ones make us thankful. Like the time eighteen-month-old Tracy somehow crawled up and got a bottle of baby aspirins from the fireplace. The panic when she brought us the empty bottle. The relief after the hospital stay.
Back to a funny one. And one that will never be lived down. The time Ted fell down the stairs with a plate of orange spaghetti, wearing my white roller skates with the pink pom-poms. It was hilarious then, and now. You would have had to been there.
Now to the cookies.
Elaine’s Best Ever Cookies
( from Laura Bush. Chocolate Chunk Campaign Cookies)
you will need:
3 sticks (1 ½ cups softened butter)
3 cups quick oatmeal
3 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 ½ cups light brown sugar
3 eggs
1 T baking powder
1t each of vanilla and salt
2 t cinnamon
3 cups chocolate chunks
2 cups dried cherries, chopped coarse
2 cups chopped walnuts
With electric mixer cream butter and sugars
beat in eggs one at a time
add in vanilla and mix in flour, oats, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon
slowly beat until blended
by hand stir in chocolate chunks, cherries, and walnuts.
Drop by T on cookie sheet lined with parchment paper
Bake at 350 degrees for 14 minutes or until just golden brown
makes about 8 dozen
Enjoy, guys. These takes work.

2008-08-05T06:46:00.001-05:00

From the Back of the Bus
Kelly is an expert quilter. She works at the quilt shop in her little town, teaching classes, designing original patterns, and doing whatever her customers want and need.
Recently, her shop partnered with other shops to sponsor a day-long tour of area quilting businesses. She did not have to be asked. She volunteered to be the "tour guide" on one of the buses.
Her bus had over fifty women, and one man. He was a musician, looking for unique and different fabrics.
They would have lunch about mid-way. Other than that, there was no plan to make the ride entertaining.
Being a gregarious and people person, she wanted everyone to get acquainted and just have a good time.
She decided to go through her home work-shop, find some prizes, and have a little fun along the way. She picked over a dozen prizes, everything from a tape measurer to quilting magazines. A vintage quilt was even among the prizes.
"What goes on in the bus, stays here," she said. She did not want the other buses to think they were doing something special.
They played a guessing game, the questions centering on quilting. The first one to raise their hand with the answer got the prize.
It wasn’t long before they all felt like friends, and seemed to be having a good time.
Little did she know there were several "ladies" in the back of the bus that had some issues with their exuberant tour guide.
She heard about the disgruntled comments as she was going up and down, making conversation, handing out treats, and generally picking up after her charges.
She was told the complaints were that she discriminated against the back because she didn’t call on them when THEY raised their hands. It was a long day and they were tired, and could not raise their hands as fast.
Plus, they were offended because she said, "You guys." They were not guys. They were ladies. Maybe. Maybe not.
WHAT?
Kelly wears her heart on her sleeve. She was floored. "Are these guys for real?" Whoops.
Maybe she should go to the back of the bus and apologize. She had tried to include everyone and make it a fun day. No. She didn’t go back there, and she did not apologize.
Instead, at the end of the day, she stood up at the front of the bus and said, "My mother told me that what you need to survive is water, sunshine, and hugs. I must have believed her because I am a hugger. If you agree, I will be standing outside next to Larry." (their driver).
As they stepped off the bus, everyone gladly took her up on her offer, including Larry.
Except for guess who? They got off and walked behind the driver so they would not have to go past her.
I’ll bet Kelly’s mother told her a few other things. Like, you cannot win ‘em all.
I think getting over fifty hugs at the end of a long day is a pretty good success rate. I would like to add another hug to that total.
If I were her mother, I would say, "You go, girl. Be yourself. Because that is the very best there is."
The cook’s exchange had a great-sounding recipe for spice bars. Maybe a few treats would have made the grumpy ones happy. I wouldn’t bet on it, though.
Spice Bars from the Wisconsin State Journal, August third
you will need:
1 cup seedless raisins
1 cup water
½ cup salad oil
½ to1 cup sugar
1 beaten egg
1 3/4 cups flour
1/4 t each salt and baking soda
½ t cloves
1 t each cinnamon nutmeg and allspice
2 oz chopped walnuts (optional)
for the bars, combine raisins and water and bring to a boil
stir in oil
let cool and then stir in sugar and eggs
mix dry ingredients
beat into raisin mixture
stir in nuts (optional)
Pour into greased 9x13 pan
bake 375 for 20 minutes
prepare frosting and frost cooled bars

cream frosting
2 cups powdered sugar
1/4 cup soft butter
1 T cream
1 t vanilla
beat all ingredients and frost
enjoy

welcome to the lake

2008-08-02T18:40:00.002-05:00

Thanks Elaine for comments-We need those signs
see you soon
I do not have your email
I don't get it from the blog

I have decided to keep putting my column on the blog even tho it is on the web.
love to all

correction

2008-07-21T16:57:00.000-05:00

the website for the Cambridge News is
www.cambridgeenews.com
sorry for the mistake

From Shirley's Cottage

2008-07-21T13:49:00.002-05:00

Hi
My column should be on Cambridge News website by now
www.cambridgenews.com
if not please email me
sherwinshirley@yahoo.com
Those of you who know Kelly know her blog
otherwise, my daughter Kelly has a blog-interesting especially to quilters and designers
and those interested in wedding websites
Paige's wedding is in October and their website is super
I'm sure the site is on Kelly's blog, the proud mom of the bride.
Hope to see you on the News
Thanks you bloggers
Shirley

believe in the birds
It was early Monday, July 14th. I was working on my column, and at the same time talking to my niece, Corri, via e-mail.
I had just told her how her cousins had all been to the lake the day before. And how we were missing Gram and her uncle. Today was a bittersweet day, the fourteenth year on the 14th, without Ted. Sr.
I wrote: "There is a hummingbird pecking at my window screen, not two feet away-just like he or she is looking right at me. Why talk about hummingbirds? This may be the best thing I see today."
I was in the mood to take this little hummer as a sign.
Corri’s answer. believe in the birds. I cannot say if the hummingbird is a sign, but I have a story for you that might help you decide."
She went on to tell me about her close friend, Pam. In the past few years, she has had a very tough road.
She became single. She lost her mom and dad. Her favorite "cool" cousin lost his life, way too young, with no warning and no indication.
She could have given in to grief. But she "kept on keepin’ on"
Recently she bought "a very cute house." Even though she has been through hell, she said she slept well the first night and it felt like home already.
Corri continued: "The second night in her new home, she was sitting on her deck before bed. A cardinal and a blue jay landed on the fence and sat awhile. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw a blue jay.
Why is this so significant? During her mom’s last days, Pam was sitting with her. Her mom kept saying, ‘Red bird, blue bird, red bird, blue bird’. Pam had no idea what this meant.
Now she believes it was her mom and dad saying goodbye and all will be well. Pam said she has stretched some of the signs she has seen, but the quote from Pam: ‘I’m going with this one.’ Pam believes in that power greater than yourself: It may just be that little hummingbird."
Love, Corri

Dear Corri,
Thank Pam for me. "I’m going with this one, too."
Love, Aunt Shirley
P.S. I only saw that hummingbird that day for those few minutes. It has not come back.

Corri has some good recipes. Here is one she recently tried and liked.
Fajita Steak Salad from Lisa Lillien’s Hungry Girl
you will need for one serving:
3 oz raw boneless top sirloin, thinly sliced
4 oz Diet Coke
½ small yellow onion, sliced
½ medium each red and yellow pepper, sliced
3 cups romaine lettuce, chopped
4 baked tortilla chips, crushed
1/4 cup salsa
2 T fat-free sour cream
salt, pepper, any spices of your choice
marinate the steak in the coke and refrigerate for 30 minutes
Coat a frying pan with cooking spray
Add steak and marinade to pan over med-hi
Stir fry for 1-2 minutes until no longer pink
Remove meat. Leave marinade in pan
ad the onions stir for two minutes
add peppers for a minutes
return stead to pan
Serve on lettuce and top with crushed chips
salsa and sour cream
enjoy

on-line

2008-07-18T18:59:00.003-05:00

Hi all

soon the Cambridge News will be on-line and will include my column
When that occurs in the near future, I probably won't put my column on my blog
Kelly's blog is much more fun

I may write a thing or two
So thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy all the things in the weekly News

Until then, here is my column

All In The Family
It is a rare time when the whole family gets together at the same time and place. It happened last week-end, save for son-in-law, Doug, and soon-to-be grandson-in-law, Chris.
They stayed home in Minnesota to keep the home-fires burning until bride-to-be, Paige, and her entourage made plans for an October wedding. (More later-the first grandchild getting married!)
Her plans resulted in my four kids and four grandkids to gather at the lake for an unexpected get-together.
The sun and temperature cooperated. But Mother Nature had to have her way again and her strong winds blew the lake into whitecaps. The waves kept us off the lake most of the day, but not off the pontoon, safely tied to the pier.
The old pontoon was swaying with the waves, and the activities of the group. That included the eight of them, their five dogs, and me. I’m not ready to miss anything yet.
Later, Tracy’s best friend since grade school came. Laurie had recently moved to Milwaukee. Another one who has to change her license plates to Wisconsin. She is a sweet reminder that blood is not the only thing that makes you family.
When everyone had their fill of snacks and sandwiches, and things quieted down, we talked. How we wish Gram and Ted, Sr. were here. For the wedding. For this day.
How fast time goes. Gram, who cooked her head of for all the people my dad would bring to the lake. And when she (and we) lost my dad, she was buoyed up by the her kids and grandkids.
Ted, Sr., an unbelievable fourteen years since he last captained the pontoon. He would perch my dad’s captain’s hat on his head, lemonade cooler in hand, thoroughly enjoying the ride around the lake.
Some of us need to talk about the old days and those we dearly miss. Some of us need to do it silently and privately.
And I, like Gram before me, am buoyed up by my kids and grandkids.
All too soon it was time for dinner before they took their leave. After the hugs and good-byes, the day was done.
The wind had died down. I sat on the pontoon. Just me. It was so quiet..
Funny, that night, the quiet was not such a good sound, and my beverage of choice didn’t have much flavor.
I had made a big pot of chop suey for dinner. It was ready in the morning and the rest of the day was mine. These muffins/biscuits are quick and go well with chop suey or any meal.
White Cheddar Muffins from Paula Deen’s Kitchen
you will need:
1/3 cup butter
½ cup chopped fresh chives
1 t minced garlic
1 3/4 cup buttermilk, or the substitute
3 cups baking mix, (such as Bisquick)
1 ½ cups grated sharp white cheddar (reg sharp cheddar if white isn’t available)
16 greased muffin tins
In a small sauce pan, melt butter, add chives and garlic and cook 2 minutes
In a medium bowl combine baking mix and cheese
add butter mixture, stirring until just moistened
Spoon into tins
bake at 350 degrees 25 minutes or until golden brown
cool 5 minutes
enjoy

thanks lori for comment

2008-07-07T20:17:00.000-05:00

Mosquitos
There is a word in mosquitos that those little buzzers do not understand. They just do not quit. By the time the Fourth of July was over, I thought I had measles instead of bouts with a flying fortress that would not be denied.
It is said there is something good in everything. Even a mosquito? They do make a good dinner or lunch for some other irritating insect.
And they increase sales for netting, screen houses, tents, citronella candles, and bug spray.
In the thick of it, there was even a walker who walks daily. She had a hat with netting that went over her head and face. What a great invention. I loved it.
There were beautiful and booming fireworks on many shores of the lake. The mosquitos were so bad you could not sit on the pier. So you might say they brought families together to get out on the lake.
There must have been a hundred or more boats out there, making a beautiful sight with their lights reflecting on the water, enjoying the show and avoiding the critters. Most of them, anyway.
It’s not a well-kept secret, but I am not crazy about grilling out. The Fourth was warm, muggy and mosquito-ee I did not have to feel guilty standing outside flipping burgers with one hand and swatting with the other. I had a reason to cook and eat in the air-conditioning.
Because I am grill-challenged, my daughter gave me a George Foreman Grill. It can be used indoor or outdoor. I brought it in the kitchen. What an invention. What I needed was right there instead of running back and forth. And no, it did not smoke up the kitchen.
From the floods and standing water to no wake on the lake, no swimming on the lakes with algae, cloudy and rain every day, we finally got a grrreat week-end.
I hope we don’t have complaints about the non-Wisconsin license plates dotting the roads. I was a flat-land week-ender for four decades. Now I am a cheese-head. My love for the lake did not change when my license plates did.
The difference is now on Sunday night I don’t have to leave for home. I am home. I can put on my cheese-head hat, walk down to the lake with my beverage of choice, and listen to the
quiet- sometimes the best sound in the world. (Except for the buzz in my ears from those darn mosquitos that never quit.)
My Minnesota family could not make it, but Tracy and two of her three dogs came for a few days.
Besides herself and the pups, she brought and made a new recipe she got from her friend, Sharon, who got it from a restaurant where she used to work. She said the owners would not give it to her, but she got it anyway. She said if I put it in my column the owners might put a contract out on me. (Some people guard their recipes with a passion.).
Sometimes you have to live dangerously. So here is the recipe.
Cucumber dip from an unknown restaurant in Illinois via Sharon
you will need:
one 16 ounce sour cream
equal Hellman’s Mayo
one package dry Ranch dip
12-16 inches of cucumber, peeled and scooped out
white and black pepper to taste
mix sour cream, mayo, Ranch dip, and pepper
put cucumber in food processor or blender until mushy and blended
drain cucumber on paper towel
mix with rest of ingredients
good on crackers, chips, sandwiches, veggies, and salads
Enjoy.

from shirley's cottage

2008-07-03T07:15:00.001-05:00

Six Words
I read a feature in last Sunday’s paper that took me back to my first high school journalism assignment.
Our class was to write a story. When we turned them in, the teacher said, "Good. Now cut it in half." We looked at each other like he was crazy, bur we did it.
We turned them in again. "Good. Now cut it in half once more." We learned with that lesson that sometimes less is more.
The piece in the paper I read last week was titled Six Words. If my teacher was around today, he would have a field day.
Six words was inspired by Earnest Hemingway. He was asked tp write a story in just six words. He wrote: "For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn." It is said that he called it his best work.
As a result, authors, and writers from various venues were asked to submit their six words. They went into magazines. A book, Six Words-Memoirs was written. Now there is a website for anyone to try their hand at it. Try goggling..
I have read dozens of six-worders this week. Hemingway’s is by far the tear-jerker. I love this life-story: "Not quite what I expected" (Ain’t it the truth.)
My husband was a man of few words. We would tease that he didn’t say much, but we sure remembered everything he said.
Now that I know about six words, he is my favorite author. This is my favorite "story". His response to "Do you love me?" was "Yep. Or I wouldn’t be here." And he lived up to those six words.
I have to change my ways before I can attempt a story in six words. I have been counting my fingers and two thumbs all week.
I don’t even know if I can find a recipe with six ingredients.
I give up. Ten Ingredient Monkey Bars
you will need:
1 large ripe banana, mashed
½ cups each sugar and brown sugar
½ cup softened butter or margarine
½ t each vanilla and cinnamon
1 egg
1 cup flour

From Shirley's Cottage

2008-06-23T08:25:00.000-05:00

Driving Miss Daisy
Most of the time I drive alone and no one sees the inside of my car. I admit I am embarrassed for any one to ride with me. My car is my Starbucks, closet and waste basket on wheels.
Lately things have gotten out of hand, even for me. I have a van that can seat eight. I have never seated eight people at once, but sometimes I have to make room for me to drive.
Even with good intentions, things don’t get done. Unless you are forced. Last week Deb’s car was in the garage. She was going to use my car for a day.
I was forced. I took a garbage bag, window cleaner, paper towels, and opened all the doors and the back end.
The wet-dry vac was plugged in, ready to suck up the crumbs, paper clips, hair pins and debris that would fit into the hose.
When I was done, I had a pile of things that went inside. Now I had to put those away.
The garbage bag was full of trash. Miscellaneous this n’ that lay on the seat, waiting to be sorted: grocery receipts for the library, paper clips and pins the vac missed, several pens, a pencil, one mitten, a few plastic spoons and forks, and ------ some pennies, nickels, dimes, a quarter and a wadded up dollar bill! I could have gone to Frostie Freeze for a banana split and didn’t even know it.
It was hard to believe it was the same car. Clean floors, windows, and dash. And only a few coffee spots on the seat.
The rains had virtually power-washed the outside. My old 1995 van with 184,000 plus miles, looked like a new car.
I drove to town to get some floor mats. It was as if she knew she looked spiffy. I swear she drove better. Even her creaks weren’t as loud.
I have never named a car before. (If I have I don’t remember.) She should have a name. I thought of one of my favorite movies,
Jessica Tandy, a great old dame, played Miss Daisy, who was a hard-working, proud, classy lady with a lot of miles on her. But with many more to go. So is my Miss Daisy.
Who wants to cook after a cleaning job. Make some soup a day ahead and enjoy
Daughter Kelly’s childhood friend, Rochelle, has lived in Oklahoma for some years now. She is a good cook and has given Kelly (who passes them on) some good ones that are known in the West. Or Mid-west.
Rox’s Chicken Tortilla Soup
(this will serve 4-6 bowls. Double recipe for hearty eaters.
you will need:
The white meat from a broasted chicken or one you have cook yourself.
2-3 cups
one carton chicken broth
one 16 ounce frozen package extra sweet corn
one can black beans, drained
one medium onion, sauted
one extra large can diced tomatoes
optional, one can diced green chilies
salt and pepper to taste
Mix all ingredients
simmer to blend flavors
serve piping hot
Top with crushed nacho chips, sour cream and shredded cheddar
(For the spicy lovers, add some hot sauce or jalapenos)
Enjoy

From Shirley's Cottage

2008-06-20T18:45:00.000-05:00

Dads and Grandpas

I Love Lucy and Little House on the Prairie are not the only things I watch on television. There are times I am more cerebral. On Sunday mornings for example. I have watched Meet the Press for as many years as I can remember. Tim Russet has been the moderator since the early 90's.
Tim Russet died suddenly on Friday the 13th, two days before Father’s Day. The story ran non-stop on all the news channels, the Today Show, etc.
His journalistic achievements have been explored. But mostly the they talked about him as a father and a son.
He wrote a best-selling book about his father, "Big Russ". A relationship in which his father, like most fathers then, did not show affection, in words or hugs. But Tim knew his father loved him, and their relationship was grounded in love and respect.
He said his book was really written for his son. Unlike his father, he was a father who was quick with the hugs and "I love you, son."
Hearing the sad news, especially on the Father’s Day week-end made me think of the fathers in our own family.
I have a dad, but he is now memories and a few dreams. My kids have a dad Ditto.
We hope they are playing poker and having a beer with Gram on a cloud somewhere.
I silently say Happy Father’s Day to them and call my son and my son-in-law and tell them what good dads they are.
Funny, when I heard about Tim Russet, my first thoughts were not of my dad, but of my grandpa, my mom’s dad.
He was a cop. A tall, proud, handsome guy with curly blonde hair and brown eyes. He had a soft heart and a soft hand. As a police captain he could be tough. As a dad and grandpa, he never was.
As a child, I remember him coming over to visit on Saturday mornings. He would play with my sister and me. Then sit and have coffee with his oldest daughter. Before he left he would always say "Don’t tell I came to visit. Let it be our secret, ok?" (My grandma was not your typical mom-she ruled the roost, and was jealous of anything that did not involve her)
. When he left on those Saturdays, he would lift my mom off the floor with a bear hug, and an "I love you" to us all.
Thank goodness Mom took after her dad. From her blonde hair to her big brown eyes to the love she had for her family, she was Tony the cop all over again.
My dad’s dad was a product of the old country. He came from Lithuania as a young man. He had the work ethic instilled in him. I can’t remember him giving a hug or saying "I love you". Not even in his native tongue.
He was a factory worker who never missed a day of work. And then a tavern owner, who built the building with scrap materials with his son, and opened his business without help from government or anyone else. The only affection I remember was having to kiss him on the cheek.
He did not love us less. That was his way. The way he was raised. He did not love us less. His legacy was the hard work he did.
My dad and my kids’ dad were a combination of so many traditions and emotions that made them the dads they were. Those are stories for the next Father’s Day.
I know last week was Father’s Day. I didn’t remember until we went to press. So a week late, but sincerely, I hope all dad’s and their loved ones had a good day.
And all those dad who have left us are remembered with good memories and lots of love.
This salad was on a cooking show this week. Just right for a cook-out. I know two dads in our family who would like this. I hope so. I’m making it this week-end.
Five Ingredient Salad from the Cooking Channel
you will need:
one seedless cucumber, sliced thin, unfelled
one small can mandarin oranges, drained
1/4 cup chopped mint (I might try chives or another herb instead)
3-4 red wine vinegar
1 T olive
Mix the cucumber, oranges and mint
add the vinegar and olive oil
Toss
Serve with a good burger or brat
Enjoy

From Shirley's Cottage

2008-06-20T18:42:00.000-05:00

Lotsa, Lotsa, Lotsa

After the cold, after the rain, it seems like the whole outside is opening up.
To enjoy family and friends, build traditions and make memories.
Graduation. Lotsa TP on lotsa trees. The tradition continues.
Lotsa motorcycles. I seem to have that malady called Compulsive Disorder when it comes to motorcycles. If I see more that two or three riding together, I have the compulsion to count them. Then I have to count the ones riding tandem . Then how many are wearing helmets. It’s a regular survey.
Sunday morning while pumping my gas (that cost lotsa money) 18 of them went through town. Four women riding, two driving. Nary a helmet except for the first three. I don’t mind their good times. I just wish they weren’t so darned loud.
Everyone comes out in the beautiful weather. And we have had, (yes lotsa of that lately)
Walkers, runners, and dogs galore.
Cars with different state license plates, coming for the summer to put lotsa money into our community. Lest we get too territorial, let’s remember the week-enders love the lake as the home-town folks. I know. I was one for lotsa years.
Golf carts galore.. A fine way to go humming down to the lake.
Pontoons on the lake. More than speedboats, I think. What does that mean? There are more "mature" boaters, or all ages have learned to relax a little.
Whatever kind of boat-fishing, sail, speed, pontoon, canoe, kayak, paddle, or jetski; that’s lotsa boats.
But there is only one lake. It provides for all of us what each and everyone of us is looking for. For me, it used to be skiing, driving the boat for all the kids that skied. Now, it is sitting on the pontoon, watching the second and someday the third generation keeping the love of the lake alive.
Lotsa isn’t a real word. Just slang. My spell check doesn’t even recognize it. I tried "lots of". It just didn’t fit.( I hope we don’t have to say it when we talk about mosquitos or rain on the week-ends.)
And then there is food. Lots of it. The Weber and the charcoal out. The smell of grilling everywhere. I confess. I am so bad with the grill. My daughter gave me the George Foreman. A great invention for people like me who burn one side and ignore the other.

I don’t have a recipe today. Just a hint for a really good sausage.
The Pig last week-end had samples of sausage. If you are a beef eater, and like sausage, you will love it.
They are Angus beef sausages. They have Italian and regular. All beef, no fillers. A little more pricy, but worth it.
This is the beginning. Remember how fast the summer goes? Have fun, and enjoy.

2008-06-10T05:44:00.000-05:00

A Penny for Your Thoughts
It was Friday night. I pulled into the gas station. The attendant came out dressed in his Mobile shirt and hat. He greeted us as he cleaned the windshield, checked the oil and the tires.
"Fifty cents worth of regular, please", I said as I returned his smile. With gas in my tank, clean windows, and fluids checked, I took off with my two best friends in tow.
I was seventeen. I had the world by the tail and didn’t even know it.
I had graduated from high school, waiting for the Fall class at Rockford Beauty Academy, the only beauty school in town. ($600 for the whole course. The textbook was 10.95 extra).
On this particular night we had big plans. I was driving my new-to-me 1947 gray Plymouth sedan. I loved that car. The best that $500 could buy.
We stopped at the Hollywood drive-in down by the Auburn Street Bridge. The strongest thing we would drink that night would be Hollywood’s delicious home-squeezed lemonade for twenty cents. A favorite was their cole slaw, fifteen cents. (The best cole slaw except for my mom’s and Deb’s)
At dusk we went to the outdoor movie. We had our choice of the Robin, River Lane, or Lin’s. I don’t remember which one we went to. Jerry Lewis was playing in "Don’t Give Up the Ship." That night it was a dollar a car.
I loved going to the outdoor theaters, even though I never got to see the end of the last show. I had to be home by a certain time or call home. No cell phones in those days, so it was just easier to go home and miss the end. (But, if I had to call home, all I needed was a nickel!)
I got home with some extra change in my pocket. My mom had given me fifty cents to get a pack of Lucky Strikes for her and Camels for my dad. I forgot as I always did. You would think they would have figured it out.
I pulled into the gas station. It was not a Mobile and there was no attendant. I pumped my own gas, didn’t clean my windshield or check my oil and tires. I paid OVER $4.00 a gallon. I’m glad I didn’t have to forget cigarettes for someone. They cost more than a gallon of gas.
I was several years past seventeen.
When gas was fifty cents a gallon, our paychecks were much less than they are now. However-my paycheck today is not near four times that it was then.
I know us old folk talk about "the good old days", and how things were when they were young. My folks did it and I said I would not–but I do. Too much, maybe.
I realize how important memories are. .A penny for your thoughts. A penny for mine. I’ll give you my thoughts for nothing. At seventeen or seventy.
People like my folks who raised a family during the depression, learned the value of even the lowly penny.
Maybe that is why my mom was so good in the kitchen. She could take a can of this and a hunk of that and make a delicious meal.
In grade school, we used to walk home for lunch. My sister and I liked when she made a "gourmet" lunch for us. She would say you can make anything taste good if you have an onion.
Oscar Mayer and Mom
you will need:
a ring of bologna, skinned and cut into thin slices
2 cans of a good brand cream style corn (not runny)
2 - 3 T butter
1 medium onion, diced
salt and pepper to taste
Melt butter and fry the sliced bologna until brown
Add the onion and saute until soft and starting to get brown
Add the corn,
Heat until just bubbling
Serve with cornbread
Enjoy

goodbye

2008-05-26T08:08:00.000-05:00

So Long, Good-by, We Hate to See You Go
Last week we got a letter in the mail from our doctor’s office. She was leaving her practice to "pursue other professional opportunities. "
I’m sure there are many of you who got the same letter. Some were surprised. Some sad. Some curious as to why she was leaving after only less than three years of being our family doctor."
I was none of those. I could not even be sad for me because her main reason for leaving was what made her such a good doctor in the first place: her desire and need to spend more time with her children.
The first time I saw her was at a meeting at the Amundson Center. It was about the building of the new Cambridge Clinic..
She was there with her husband and toddler daughter.( And now, in less than three years, two little brothers have joined the family.)
I didn’t know who she was until some one told me. She sure didn’t look like doctor to me.
The second time I met her I interviewed her for the News: Hometown girl comes back to join the staff of the new Clinic. She still didn’t look like a doctor to me. She looked more like the high school athlete she was at CHS.
She is a doctor. My doctor. In the interview I picked up on her sincerity, and believed her when she said she wanted to know and treat the whole family.
I don’t know, but I think I was one of her first patients. I am not a model patient-don’t want to take pills; I’m infamous for changing appointments or skipping them altogether.
I was not wrong about the sincerity, or the caring. I even accepted the admonishment she gave with a smile, when I didn’t keep my appointments or balked at taking pills.
Coincidentally, the same day I got the letter, I was listening to Wisconsin Public Radio as I was coming home from work. I would love to get a copy of the program.
I don’t remember the doctor’s name, or what college she was from. She is a professor, up in years, and she had many things to say about being a good doctor. The one thing I can paraphrase is -she said being a good doctor is not science. It is love.
I did not get permission to say good-by in this column. I hope I have not overstepped any boundaries.
I just wanted to say that I completely understand why I am losing my doctor. God willing, I will still be here years from now when her kids are grown and she returns.. If not me, another patient who needs a firm hand and a caring heart.
Doctor Stephanie, we wish you well. May the wind always be at your back.
I dusted off my WW Simply the Best recipe book for a healthy recipe.. You can’t tell the difference from the original. Well, maybe just a little bit.
Pineapple Right-side-up Cake
you will need:
½ cup unsweetened applesauce
one 8 ounce can unsweetened crushed pineapple ( reserve the juice)
1/3 cup skim milk
1/3 cup egg substitute or egg whites
½ t vanilla
1 3/4 flour
1/3 cup sugar
2 t baking powder
1/4 cup brown sugar
In one bowl stir together wet ingredients (except the drained pineapple)
In a large bowl, combine dry ingredients except brown sugar
Make a well in the center and stir in applesauce mixture until just combined
Put batter into greased 9 inch pan
Spoon crushed pineapple on top and then brown sugar
Bake in 350 degree oven for about 30 minutes
Serve warm with fat free topping
enjoy
124 calories, no fat, 28 carbs

flylady

2008-05-20T16:41:00.000-05:00

Not Today, Fly Lady
Flylady.net is a website that is loaded with tips, advice, and support for people like me: unorganized and not a wit of talent for keeping a neat, organized home.
When my kids were growing up I solved my lack of skills with a sign I kept in my kitchen: "My home is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy." It worked when they were little. I blamed them for everything that was messed up and out of place.
Funny, though, they are all grown up now and I still could use that sign. My mom used to say-"A place for everything and everything in its place." My problem is there is a different place every time.
My family has said at times, many times, you are never too old to change. So as I looked at my two and a half pair of shoes in the living room, and searched for my purse, I decided to try flylady again.
There is such a wealth of information on that website, I get palpitations. The subject for the day was-"Are you in chaos? Take an hour and bless your house." Her advice is that you can do any one task for fifteen minutes. Make a list and stick to it. Don’t deviate or lose your focus.
I was ready. I put the dishes away in order, fitting into each other instead of the bowls wobbling on top of a smaller one. The small frying pan was on top-the lids all in one place. This wasn’t going bad at all.
I would just go down my list, not taking on more than I could handle. Bless my house!
Then I heard a car pull up. It was my granddaughter with her new puppy.. She was missing her life-long buddy, Brando. I was glad to see she had a new dog to love.
She brought Pearl over to get acquainted with Sundance, the lab, and Nookers, the cat. She was going to take a walk down to the lake.
It was a perfect day, lake smooth, sun shining on it. The lilac bushes gave the whole yard the fragrance of spring..A great day to be outside. But I had a list.
She didn’t ask me, but I told her I was sorry, I just did not have time to walk with her. I said I was trying to stay on a schedule and get organized. .
She and Pearl started down to the lake. I took my list and marked off the next thing-clean out the middle desk drawer. I dumped everything into a box and started sorting.
I glanced out the window and saw the two of them coming up from the lake. I had an epiphany right then. I thought, in less than six months Jade will be of age, the pup will be a dog. This moment will not come again.
By the time I got outside, they were on the deck. We sat there enjoying the sun, looking at the lake and laughing at the antics of the puppy.
My schedule bit the dust. That desk drawer will still be there in six months, in six years.
I really don’t care.
Times when I sit in my rocking chair, remembering good times, my fondest memories will not be of my clean desk drawer.
Maybe someday, Fly Lady. But not today.
There is not a whole lot of system in the kitchen, either. But people seem to get fed and on time. I watch the food channel, maybe too much. Paula and Rachel sometimes get on my last nerve, but they have such good recipes, I have to forgive.
Rachel had a kind of do it yourself spread, Ritz has baked cracker chips out that are good to go with the spread of your choice. Her program that week was stressing healthy eating.
Rachel’s Cream Cheese Spread (Healthy and low fat)
you will need:
one 8 ounce low fat cream cheese, softened
4 ounces light sour cream
any kind of veggies, diced small
I used chives, one small clove garlic
zucchini, orange pepper
( 2-3 T of each. The idea being more veggies than cream cheese.)
mix with the cream cheese. Put on cracker of your choice
Enjoy

sesame

2008-05-20T16:37:00.000-05:00

Open Sesame
I was trying to open a box of cereal. The direction on top of the box said: to open slide finger under arrows to left and right. To close, push tab under here. There were four arrows showing the way. My finger didn’t fit under the tab. The box tore, so forget keeping it closed.
Inside the box was the bag with the cereal. The cereal guys must have thought if I got the box open, I should be smart enough to open the inner bag.
I tried to pull it open. It wouldn’t pull. I went for the kitchen scissors. Wouldn’t cut. (Then I remembered I had cut some carpet with them, and they wouldn’t cut anything anymore.)
I tried to pull it with my teeth (smart move) but couldn’t tear it.
I was so frustrated by then, I just said out loud, "Open Sesame.!" I had recently read a piece about The Arabian Nights. Alibaba and the forty thieves must have still been in the back of my mind.
.Alibaba was a poor woodcutter. He heard the thieves, forty in all, boasting about their treasure in a cave. The cave could only be opened by the magic words, "Open Sesame" and closed by the magic command of "Close Sesame. " So one day when he knew the thieves were not there, he went to the cave, said, "Open Sesame", and sure enought the cave opened. He took some of the treasure, closed the cave, and the thieves were not the wiser. And the story continues.
Sometimes I think it takes magic to open anc close some of the packages that come into my kitchen:
Besides the cereal boxes, some of my unfavorite things to open are;
,:
the dog food bag. The string either breaks off in midstream or won’t pull at all.
This one usually gets the knife or the scissors, whenever I get a new pair.
the bathroom disinfectant. The "push down and turn toward arrow " means several tries. After sore fingers and a red palm, it finally gives up and opens.
cheese. The ones with the zipper are the best. Otherwise, I have to start the "pull here with the trusty scissors or a knife. Then try to get the little plastic rails to connect.
jars. Especially pickle jars. They go through everything from a hot water bath, to banging on the lid. After it takes its raps, it gets covered with a towel, held against the belly, twist and finally open. I don’t eat too many pickles. Too much work.

After opening, there is the job of keeping things closed. Pickle jars are good. Crackers, cookies, and pasta are bad..
I’m not too good at making sure the sleeves of the crackers and cookies are air-tight.
Too many times I have stale crackers and soggy cookies. I hate when that happens.
My pasta does not have a tab to keep the box closed. The pasta guys must just trust you to have enough sense to store it right side up right side up after opening. When in a hurry, taking it out of the cupboard upside down, gives you pasta all over the floor. I hate when that happens, too.
I have hesitated to complain about the things I can’t open or keep closed . I don’t hear anyone else complaining, so maybe I am the only one that needs magic to open and close.
On the other hand if opening my new jar of Jif is my biggest complaint, I’m having a good day.
As long as the peanut butter jar is open—
Peanut Butter Swirl Bars
you will need:
½ cup crunchy peanut butter (or creamy)
13 cup softened butter
3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
2 t vanilla
1 cup flour
1 t baking powder
1/4 t salt
1 package (12 oz) semi-sweet real chocolate morsels
In large bowl, beat until creamy the peanut butter, butter, and sugars
beat in eggs and vanilla
Mix baking powder, salt and flour.
Blend into peanut butter mixture
Spread in greased 9x13 baking pan
sprinkle chocolate morsels over top
Put in 350 degree oven for five minutes
remove from oven and run knife through to marbleize
Bake for 30 more minutes
These bars are worth the effort
Enjoy

2008-05-15T18:05:00.000-05:00

my mom

2008-05-07T20:03:00.000-05:00

My Mom

My sister and I were lucky. We had such a good mom. We thought she was perfect. No one is really perfect. Not even good moms. Sometimes they fall off of the pedestal we have put them on. But our mom didn’t stay off long. She’s crawl right back up there and do something amazing and in our eyes she would be perfect again.
She was born in 1916. She grew up in the roaring 20's, a beautiful blonde who could Charleston with the best of them. She and my dad, (her childhood sweetheart) would dance at the Inglatara., the local dance hall.
In my generation, tt became the Ing, a roller rink where my childhood sweetheart and I went to skate.The same floor my folks did their dancing.
When my dad was 18, he worked for Mr. Logli at his first grocery store on Broadway. One night he called my mom and said, "I’m going to Belvidere to pick up some chickens. Come with and we’ll get married." She did and they did.
Afterwards, he dropped her off at her home and no one knew for three months that they had gotten married. Her dad was a cop and I’m sure it took that long for them to get up nerve.
The years flew as they do for us all. Mom was a meticulous housekeeper and a great cook. . Those were the days when you waited for Dad to come home and ate together. There was a routine for the house: wash on Monday,(with a wringer washer and hang outside.), iron on Tuesday, bake on Wednesday, grocery shop on Thursday and clean on Friday.
She could cook, that woman. I’ve praised her "orange spaghetti", and Texas Sheet Cake many a time. Her cole slaw was second to none; except for Deb’s who learned how to make it from her.
One of our favorites was something she didn’t cook, only orchestrated. During the week we would go to the farm with my grandparents to get milk right from the cow. She would put the milk in our big yellow Pyrex bowl and leave it on the counter for several days. It would then be sour milk with sour cream on top. She served it with hard dark Lithuanian rye bread, gotten at Labunski’s Bakery. Yogurt never tasted so good.
Sundays was always roast for dinner. It had to be chuck. The roaster came out, the meat and vegetables went in. Several hours later, out of the oven came the dinner you tell your kids about. I still have the roaster. I can make the chuck, but not like my mom.
I’ll end the food frenzy with her from scratch lemon pie. The tartness would make your jaw lock and ears ring. Now that was a lemon pie you talk about.
There were times she would make me nuts. Her "disease to please" would get out of control and she was all over the place trying to make and keep everyone happy. I didn’t stay nuts very long. She tried so hard and in the long run, she was almost always right.
In her younger days, she was the hardest worker I ever knew. She took care of family, in-laws, worked as a secretary, and helped my dad in their tavern. That included Friday night fish frys. I don’t know how many potatoes she peeled or how many cabbages she grated to serve the hungry customers who loved her cooking.
She wasn’t your typical mom and grandmother. She had a few vices, and the time and place being right, she could be a pistol. Sometimes we would be embarrassed the way she danced around the house. If I could only see her dance now.
After the tavern was sold, and they moved to the lake: she did take the time to smell a few roses.
On occasion, on a quiet week-day, she would take some of the grandkids up to the Spa where they would be allowed to play a game of pool, and have some chips with their Orange Crushes.
She would sit on the stool, one skinny leg folded around the other, smoking her cigarette, and sipping her one whiskey and water. (She did not do the driving). She watched the pool game, thoroughly loving every minute of her afternoon outing with the kids.
She was pretty until her dying day, her blonde hair only going white after she quit touching up the blonde of her youth. Even into her 80's, when she got up in the morning, she fixed her hair and put make-up on before she started her day.
Into her 83rd year, she quit smoking. But she still had her sips. Medicinal, you know.
And so it goes. The circle of life. Her legacy is one of the love for her family that never dies.. I told her once that she did so much for us, and what could we do for her.
"Pass it on." she said simply. "Do for yours." I’m trying, Mom. I’m trying.
On May 10th, 1908, the first Mother’s Day was declared and celebrated. Whether you are a busy young mother with toddlers pulling at your apron strings, or a ninety year old mom with a kid of 70, on this one hundredth anniversary, I wish you a Happy Mother’s Day.
Remember. And Enjoy

mom

2008-05-07T19:55:00.001-05:00

Ya Gotta Have Faith
It was a sad trip to Rockford for Vince. His nephew, only 52 years old, had died unexpectedly.
On his way home after the wake, his car began acting up. The power steering went out and the warning lights went on.
He drove into a gas station to see what was wrong. Being a mechanic in his own right, he found the problem, but did not have the tools to fix it.
He was at a gas station, but, nowadays, a gas station is just that. You can buy gas, a pizza and a lottery ticket, but no repair service and not a tool in sight.
He asked the clerk if there was a service station around that was still open. It was seven o’clock. "No," said the clerk. It was too late.
A young man standing near-by heard the conversation. He asked Vince what the problem was with his car. In friendly conversation he asked where Vince lived and why he had come to Rockford.
Vince told him, and the man said, "I was the ambulance driver that took your nephew to the hospital. Small world. Coincidence? Maybe.
He proceeded to tell Vince that there was a NAPA Auto Care Center across from the gas station.. He knew they were open on Monday nights.
He drove Vince over there, and one of the guys went and got Vince’s car. In the meantime, Joe Vettore, the owner, and Vince struck up a conversation. They found out that Joe’s uncle and Vince’s brother were friends and "chummed" together as teenagers. Small world. Coincidence? Maybe.
Vince also learned why they were open. Monday is the night that Joe and his crew give their services to people recommended by their churches. People who otherwise might not be able to get their cars repaired.. There were no bills written on Monday nights.
That included Vince’s car when it was ready to go. He asked for a bill and tried to pay several times, but Joe said there was no bill.
"You look like the kind of guy that would help my dad if he had a problem–so call it even. Just stop in and say hello the next time you’re in town."
There were no sermons, no holier than thou attitudes. Their agenda was just some guys doing what they do best–using their talents to help their fellow man.
When you hear a feel good story like this, you have to have faith in your fellow man. Way to go, Joe and all at NAPA Auto Center.
(P.S. Our guys, Lane and BJ at Cambridge NAPA are no slouches, either. They have come to the rescue many a time.)
The next time Vince goes to Rockford, he will stop and say hi. This time he will be the one with the cookies.
Good and Easy Applesauce Cookies
from the Harmony Ladies Auxiliary, Rockford
you will need:
½ cup margarine
1 cup sugar
1 well-beaten egg
1 cup applesauce
1 t each of baking soda and cinnamon
½ t each of salt, cloves, nutmeg
2 cups flour
nuts and raisins, optional
cream margarine, sugar, and egg
Add remaining ingredients and mix well
drop by spoonful on cookie sheet
bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes or until lightly browned.
Eat warm or cooled. Enjoy

ya gotta have faith

2008-05-07T19:55:00.000-05:00

starry night

2008-04-24T16:37:00.000-05:00

Starry, Starry night. A Perfect night
It was Doug’s birthday. It was hard to believe he was just a kid in college when he and Kelly had a blind date. And now, after 27 years of marriage, my most favorite son-in-law is 50!
On my birthday he told me that 70 was the new fifty. Right back at you–50 is the new 30.
His mom and dad, Ruth and Bob, had planned a surprise party for him. It was to be held at Maria’s, an Italian restaurant second to none. Not only did the "kids" grow up going to Maria’s, so did I. My sister and I were just kids, and we would make our Friday or Saturday night trips to Maria’s with our folks.
The place would just be packed-waiting for a table. Then we would be packed into tables so close together, you couldn’t get out. No one cared.
At Maria’s you know you will get good service, and excellent food. And if you like something, or don’t, you can just walk into the kitchen and talk to Mama Maria’s family, that has kept the tradition going.
This is not a commercial for Maria’s. I just want to give you a picture of how it was on that night.
We had to be there earlier for the surprise (it worked; he was surprised). The place is so busy we had to park a few blocks away. As we walked, I commented on how beautiful the night was-crisp, bright and loaded with stars. "Starry, starry night.", I sang to myself.
You know how they say, the wine was flowing-well, not too much, but enough to toast. Toast to Doug’s birthday, to his best buddies, whose friendships have survived miles and different life directions. And to us all.
The special salad was special, as always. The fennel seeds were almost jumping out of the sausage, the meatballs swimming in sugo (sauce to us non-Italians)
Even the cake was good, if I do say so myself. Ruth asked me to make my mom’s Texas Sheet Cake, which I was happy to do.
There were 25 sitting at the long dinner table. I was about in the middle, talking and laughing and not paying too much attention to anything else. Then I glanced down to the end of the table. Sitting together around the end were my kids, and their kids and their kids’ fiancees. s I took a breath. They were all here. Together.
Outside, before going our separate ways, we had our hugs and kisses. And "I love you, it was a great evening."
Then my daughter said, "Do you realize we were all together? It was–it was indescribable."
I knew it was a nice evening. But I had almost let the significance pass me by. We were all together. We were happy. It was a perfect night.
When you get one of those, don’t let it pass you by. We don’t get too many of them. But when it happens, well, it’sindescribable.
I don’t have Mama Maria’s recipe for sauce. I wouldn’t try it if I did. It would never turn out perfect. There is only one Maria.
You might enjoy this one. A baked spaghetti, American style
Shaffer’s Spaghetti
you will need:
6 slices bacon, fried crisp
2 chopped onions
1 chopped green pepper
2 pounds ground beef
2 1 pound cans tomatoes
1 large can tomato paste
1 8 oz sliced mushrooms
2 cloves garlic, sliced
1 T chili powder
½ t paprika
1 small can chopped ripe olives, drained
2-3 T brown sugar
1 bay leaf
1 t Worcestershire sauce
Parmesan cheese
one pound vermicelli, cooked to directions
Brown onions and green pepper in bacon drippings
add tomatoes, paste
olives and seasonings
mix in meat
simmer for one hour
Place vermicelli in baking dish
cover with sauce and cheese
layer until again
Sprinkle crushed bacon on top
bake 30 minutes at 350
cool for a few minutes
cut into squares
Enjoy

dream on

2008-04-21T12:20:00.000-05:00

DREAM ON
I had a dream a few days ago that has stayed with me. It was not a nightmare–just a weird scenario.
I finally told my son about it, hoping I could put it to sleep. But I can’t seem to shake it. I wonder what the dream experts say about dreams that you can’t forget.
My daughter urges me to do more research on my writing. I took her advice this time and went on the internet and goggled dreams.
The first page said there were 8,180,00 websites! I only looked at the first few. My research will have to wait until another time.
There was every thing from dream moods to interpretations; books, dictionaries, dial a dream doctor, dream schools. Everything dreamy you could think of.
One thing I read was that we all have what are called common dreams. A tribesman in Africa might dream he is being chased by a tiger and falls off a cliff running away-while a New York socialite might dream she is being chased by a robber and falls in front of a taxi. Both dreams would mean the same: fear of being attacked and fear of falling.
The dream merchants make their money by interpreting what their fears really are. .
Once I dreamed I won the lottery. I don’t remember the details. I only remember the feeling of euphoria. I had that money spent before I woke up.
I have the daydream of winning the lottery every week when I contribute my dollar to the eventual winner. But I keep dreaming.
I don’t have recurring dreams. My husband did. He had the same dream every few months for many years. He would never tell what it was. I always thought if he would tell us about it, it might go away.
I usually call it the way I see it. To me, a dream is a dream. My family is more spiritual. They say there are certain dreams that are really visits or signs. I would love to think that is true.
My mom lived almost thirty years after my dad died. She used to dream she was going to visit my dad, and he wouldn’t let her. He would stop her and say, "Not yet." She was sure it was a sign that it was not her time.
I had a vivid dream years ago.. A few fleeting seconds. My husband. Eight words. It is as clear to me today as it was when I dreamed it. Was it a dream? Or a visit?

I have had dreams about my mom. But not one like that. If I could, I would say to her, "Visit me, Mom. I miss you."
I never dream I am cooking. It’s the real thing, although I am not always wide awake. Especially at breakfast.
This one you can make the day ahead, and sleep in.
Praline French Toast Casserole from the kitchen of Paula Deen
you will need for the casserole:
8-12 slices white bread (crusts off, optional)
8 eggs
1 ½ cups half and half
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
a buttered 9x13 glass dish
for the topping:
1 stick butter
½ cup light brown sugar, packed
2/3 cup maple syrup
2 cups chopped pecans
mix all ingredients except bread
place bread in dish and cover with egg mixture
cover and refrigerate overnight
preheat oven to 350 degrees
make topping and pour over bread
(melt butter in a saucepan, add sugar and syrup, cook for 1-2 minutes)
Stir in pecans
pour over egg dish
bake for 40-55 minutes. Let sit for ten minutes before serving
Very rich.
Enjoy

whoops. I forgot

2008-04-07T17:29:00.002-05:00

Hi all
I have posted last week's and this week's just now.

"Whoops. I Forgot."
Last week I worked in Elkhorn. I left my car in the grocery store parking lot, and rode with Dan, my co-worker.
After work, he dropped me off at my car. "Look," he said. " Frostie Freeze is open. I’ll have to stop and get a cone on the way home."
I couldn’t believe it. I KNEW Frostie Freeze was open for the season. That was going to be the first sentence in my last week’s column about the first signs of spring. But I forgot all about it.
I knew then I had missed something. I had this nagging feeling that I was leaving something out. But for the life of me I couldn’t grab hold of the thought.
So I fudged a few words: the print was made bigger, and no one knew I had a whole paragraph that escaped me.. But I was not satisfied. In fact, I said to my son and daughter, "Don’t critique this week’s. It leaves something to be desired
It seems to me that I have been more forgetful than I used to be. Judy, my lifetime best girlfriend is a year younger than I am. She is sailing into old age and using its perks to her benefit.
I, on the other hand, am fighting every step of the way. I am not going into old age gracefully, nor quietly. Sometimes I want to just march in time, and hold back the inevitable. For just a day.
Being forgetful is one of my struggles. Judy says, " So what you forget stuff. So do I. So do we all. You have to accept we are just a couple of old broads." That’s my friend. She didn’t have to wait to get old to speak her mind.
It bothers me, though. When I pick up the phone and don’t know who I’m calling, or open the cupboard looking for the milk, or open the fridge, not knowing what the heck I’m looking for----that bothers me.
On the week-ends, every time I go to the store, my grocery-store buddy says, "Hi for the first time." I tell him I won’t be back for a second, or third time that day. He know better. I usually forget my list, or forget to make one.
I’ve been told there’s nothing wrong with me. We forget because we’re too stressed, too busy, or both. I want to believe that. But I don’t know.
When you are at the end of the store, and walk all the way back to the beginning, and forget what you forgot, yes, that bothers me.

I did remember to meet Dan the next day, and we drove to Elkhorn again. When he dropped me off at my car, I looked at Frostie Freeze and said, "What kind of ice cream did you get last night?"
He said, "Whoops. I forgot."
I breathed a sigh of relief. He’s in his forties and FORGOT to get ice cream? My memory was vindicated. I would NEVER forget to get my ice cream.
I hopped into my car, pulled into the drive-through, and had me a big cone. It never tasted so good.
I remember this recipe by heart.
Blue Cheese Balls
you will need:
1 8 oz cream cheese, softened
4 oz Blue cheese, crumbled
1 stick margarine, softened
1 4 ½ can chopped black olives, drained
1 T dried chives
chopped pecans
Blend cheese and margarine
stir in olives and chives
chill. Shape into balls
Makes 4-5 balls
roll in chopped pecans
serve with crackers of your choice
Enjoy.

where is the sun

2008-04-07T17:29:00.000-05:00

Where is the Sun
The calendar says spring has been here for two weeks, but winter will just not give in or give up. Even with rain, sunshine, and warmer weather, that dirty old snow just won’t go away. It is damp, rainy and the cold is chilling. Where is the sun.
Winter into spring doesn’t seem that important to be excited about. But someone told me once, enjoy and pay attention to the small things. Because sometimes it’s the big things we cannot control. We saw proof of that with the sad events of the past few weeks.
We won’t forget. Also, we don’t forget the miracles of Mother Nature.
I’m looking for the first bloom of the magnolia tree in my neighbor’s yard. I think of the one we had in our own back yard when the kids were growing up. My husband was not much for flowers, but he loved our old tree that barely made it from one spring to another.
I’m waiting to smell the lilacs in my other neighbor’s yard. When they bloom, my back yard smells so good.
Friend and neighbor, Marge, has white lilacs she shares with me. I look forward to having the bouquet on my table. Soon.
Marge. My amazing neighbor. Being in her 90's does not stop her from getting ready for spring. Last Sunday, not long after church, she was outside raking the leaves from her flower beds.
I have a lot of leaves, too. But today I saw just a few little green sprigs coming up that I know will soon be the big leaves of my hostas. I know this because they have come up every spring for the 43 years we have been here. Who knows how long before that they have greeted the spring.
This morning on my way to work, there were two big geese on the lake. They looked like they were ice-skating. Coming home, they were swimming.
One day soon the ice will be out, cabin fever will be a memory, and all will be in bloom. Spring is like that.
I looked for an easy recipe. One that can be made in a jiffy when the warm weather finally comes. And one to satisfy the chocoholics. These can be made ahead of time and frozen. Ready for a picnic,
Peanut Butter Brownie Cupcakes
you will need:
one 18 ½ package Duncan Hines Chewy Fudge Brownie mix
24 miniature peanut butter cups
24 regular muffin cups with paper liners

Prepare brownie mix according to directions for cakelike brownie
fill the cups ½ full with brownie batter
Press one peanut butter cup into the batter in each muffin cup until the batter meets the top edge of the peanut butter cup
Bake 18-20 until cupcakes are set
Store in airtight container, freeze, or eat while warm and enjoy.

2008-03-26T17:51:00.001-05:00

OUT MY WINDOW

When I sit at my desk and computer, I can look out my window at the lake road.
I see the walkers, runners, riders, dog-lovers whose pooches are taking their owners for a walk. I wait for the first signs of spring when my neighbor’s magnolia tree is in full-bloom. It is so beautiful. Eventually I’ll have a few flowers in my own yard to marvel over..
I watched what may be the last snow of the winter. The big snow that will take us well over 100 inches. It is a beautiful snow, the gentle wind blowing it toward the west.
But the other day was a different story. It was after midnight. Something woke me up and I saw yellow and red lights flashing through the slats of my blinds.
I pulled one up to half-mast to see what was going on. There was a policeman guiding a truck onto the lake road. I couldn’t see anything else. There is not a street light on that corner. I thought it was probably the utility company making repairs, and went back to bed. I could not have been more wrong. I found out later it was a fire truck followed by police cars.
The next morning my neighbor told me what had happened only four houses and less than a block away. I, like everyone else was shocked and saddened by the death of Ann Nelson. This could not happen in a small town. In a close and safe community like Cambridge and the Town of Oakland.
I can see the activity down the road. I can’t explain the guilty feeling. IF I had gone home that way, or IF I had seen a suspicious person or IF I had seen some smoke early on–maybe, maybe--. I closed my blinds. It did not help.
I only knew Ann Nelson associated with her job as a Realtor. I had tagged along with my daughters when each of them was looking at homes on the lake. She was out-going and friendly. A very nice person.
Anyone you talk to the past few days has said she was such a giving person, active in her church, the school, and ready whenever a helping had was needed.
One friend said her parish priest called her "St. Ann" because when anything needed to be done, she was there.
Another friend said that she and her husband had recently moved happily into their new home, next to the farmhouse where they had raised their six kids.
Even though I did not know Ann well,. I feel a connection. This tragedy could have been mine. It could have been yours.
. I was a wife. I am a mom, and grandmother. I started a new career in my sixties. When we reached 70, I bet she, like me, couldn’t believe how in the world those year flew by so fast.
By now, the serviced are ended. The town has gathered to say their last good-byes.
The media is gone. Silenced for only a little while.
Now the work begins. The grieving process is not easy. In a way it never ends. It just takes on different faces. This is the hard part.
The circle of life continues in the hearts of her family and friends. Remembering the many good times. Keeping her memory alive. That will be the easy part.

Along the Road
I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say,

I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne’er a word said she;
But oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me.

Robert Browning Hamilton

husbands

2008-03-21T18:57:00.000-05:00

HUSBANDS
The other day my team-mate and I were having lunch in the break-room of one of the stores that we service.
Two youngish girls at the other end of the table were having a conversation about their husbands. We were minding our own business, but we couldn’t help but overhear them. The last sentence we heard as we left was, "Sometimes I wish he was dead!"
Dan and I looked at each other. He said, "I hope my wife has never said that about me. I told him I doubted it. He is a good husband.
Driving home, I couldn’t get what she said out of my mind. It hit a nerve. My husband IS dead. I said a lot of things in the fifty years I knew him (we met in third grade), but never said wished him dead. Thank goodness. I wouldn’t want to live with that regret.
I have wanted to write a column just about him. Someday, maybe. Yet, my ride home brought memories of him that made me smile.
Like the chocolate cake story. Ted was not a man of many words. One of the kids said once or twice, "Dad doesn’t talk much, but you remember every word he says. Not like Mom." (Scratch that last sentence.)
No matter what mealtime was during the week, we had a Sunday dinner. Usually a chuck roast with vegetables, salad and chocolate cake. For years in the winter when we didn’t go to the lake.
I don’t remember anymore what the conversation was. It was a long time ago. The conversation was about food. My husband said, "I never really much cared for chocolate cake."
One of the few times in my marriage I was speechless. Talk about a man of few words.
When I got my voice back, of course I barked, "You deserve to eat chocolate cake every Sunday if you don’t say anything. We have laughed about that every time we have chocolate cake, which is not too often.
That chocolate cake says a lot about the man. It sure proves he was a quiet guy. And, he was very easy to cook for. He was not one to praise, but no complaints, either.
He was always home for dinner, Sundays and weekdays when we did not have cake. He probably said to himself, "thank goodness."
Our great-nephew knew he was reliable and he could always be found. One time when Jake was about two years old, he and his folks were visiting. Ted was sitting in his usual spot at the end of the couch, watching TV.
Jake’s mom said, "You remember Uncle Ted, don’t you?" He pointed at him and said, "uh-uh. He lives there." Another memory that brings a smile. And tells you something about the man at the end of the couch. He was a constant in our lives.
I believe in the circle of life. I know the spirit of my mom and dad and husband are alive and well in my heart, and the hearts of my family. And whether they like it or not. when I’m not here to yak at my kids, they will still hear me.
For almost fourteen years after my granddaughter Paige was born, a brother or sister was hoped for and prayed for. It didn’t seem like it would ever happen.
. Shortly after Ted died, Kelly had a dream her dad was standing behind her. She was in a rocking chair rocking a baby boy. Sam was born a year or so later. He never met his grampa. But be assured, he knows him. The circle of life.
A few words from an angry wife brought me to smiles, and tears, and memories. I hope she is okay. I know I am.
You know what my recipe will not be this week. I know my husband would not like this one, either. But, you know he would try it and not complain.
Sweet Potato Salad from Dr. Zorba
you will need:
1 ½ pound sweet potatoes or Yams (I don’t know the difference, do you?)
½ cup diced onion (has to be purple)
½ cup celery, diced small
salt and pepper to taste
1/3 cranberries or craisins
2-3 T x virgin olive oil
2-3 T lemon juice (fresh best, frozen or reconstituted okay)
Bake potatoes. Make sure they are not mushy. Keep solid
Peel and dice potatoes
Mix all ingredients except oil and lemon
Mix oil and lemon juice
Toss salad.
Good with chicken breast
Enjoy

doggie diabetes

2008-03-17T22:38:00.003-05:00

husbands should be first, but must be after this one

Doggie Diabetes
I might as well give it up to the doggies. Somewhere someone said you have to accept what you cannot change. I cannot change the fact my family is nuts over their dogs. And I am the gramma.
I cannot change that there will always be dogs in my life. And in my column.
"Marley and Me" is all about a man’s dog. I haven’t read it, but it has been on the best-seller list for months.
Maybe I could get my writing career going by writing a book about the dogs in my life. I could call it "Sundance, Dru, Asa, Shorty, Buckley, Nikko, Willie, and Me."
The last two weeks I worked a few days in Rockford. It was nice because I spent two nights with my daughter Tracy.
When I got to her house, she was waiting to help me bring things from the car. Inside, I was knocked on the couch by her three (count ‘em) three dogs who were SO glad to see gramma.
She made a wonderful dinner. Very enjoyable. We ate at the dining room table. And you should eat at a table. But the reason was, if we ate in the living room, dinner was demanded to be shared by the you- know- whats.
Now Shorty, whose real name is Sebastian, just hops up and takes what he wants if you don’t have your guard up.
Trac took him because a co-worker could no longer keep him. He was incorrigible. I think he also has multiple personalities. The girl was crying and that’s all it took for Tracy to have three dogs.
Asa is okay. She knows she is a dog. Dru is huge. The big lunk does not know he is a dog. He thinks he is a person, with all the rights a person has. That includes eating your food, laying on your couch, and sleeping with you, taking up most of the bed. He has the widest body I have ever seen on a golden.
I said I thought that dog got bigger every time I saw him. Here’s where the diabetes comes in. Trac said she has to take him to the vet. He cannot get enough to drink, and he is getting bigger. He may have diabetes.
Give-me-a-break. I have been diagnosed with diabetes. Can’t I even have my own diabetes without a dog?
I am working on control with exercise (soon) and healthy eating.
I don’t know how dogs get cured.
Dru’s winter exercise is climbing all over you, and walking to steal the food of the other dogs.
He is the one that ate all my tomatoes I had laid out to ripen. Only about 30 or so.
Anyway, the day I came home, I stopped into the News to see if Amy, my editor, had any ideas for me. She is a wealth of information.
She said she couldn’t think of anything. But after I left, her wheels started turning, and she emailed me.
The first suggestion was: Ann, in the office has to take her dog to the vet. It might have–diabetes. Amy thought it might make a good story. If she only knew.
This is not the end of the story. I have to call Ann and see how her dog is. There will be an update later on the condition of the dogs and the gramma.
Amy also said her honey is wanting a good egg salad recipe. With Easter this week-end, (How early is that? We aren’t done with the corned beef and cabbage yet.) there will be plenty of eggs to use up.
Gram’s Egg Salad with Tuna
you will need:
6-8 hard-boiled Easter eggs, dices and then mashed
2 cans albacore tuna, drained
2-3 T each of purple onion and celery, diced small
½ -3/4 cup Hellman’s Mayo
½ cup sour cream
1 T Dijon mustard
1T sugar
1T vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
Mix mashed egg and tuna together very well
Mix other ingredients together and mix with egg-tuna
Adjust to taste and make sure the salad is not too dry.
Serve on good baked bread or on lettuce leaves as a salad
Really good grilled with a slice of cheese. Not toasted–Grilled with butter.
Enjoy and Happy Easter!

Politics

2008-03-03T20:04:00.001-06:00

Don’t Argue Politics

Ever since I was old enough to vote, I have always voted for the President. I admit I don’t always vote in every election for other things. I have every intention, but it is either not convenient, or the weather is bad, or the weather is good. Too busy, too lazy, anything I can think of not to get my rear out to vote. But times they are a’changin’.
The Primary election was held in Wisconsin a few weeks ago. I was going to vote, but I had the perfect excuse with all the snow and bad roads. After all, I was a mile away from the polling place.
The night before the primary, my granddaughter called. "Gramma, are you going to vote tomorrow?" Well, I guess I was. How could I tell the future of America I was too lazy to vote.
I found out that in the primary in Wisconsin, a person can vote Democrat or Republican.
I was number 733 to vote, and it was only 5 p.m. It’s no secret people are coming out. It should be a record election.
I have opinions on issues. I have issues on different subjects. But I never thought some of those should be part of a recipe column.
But when I saw my granddaughter’s interest and excitement over even being able to vote, and having a voice, I got excited myself.
So, no, I’m not going to say who I voted for. Or who I will vote for in November. We don’t even know positively who the candidates will be.
. You know what they said in Chicago, when the elections were rigged: Vote early and vote often. I’ll only vote once.
For the right person. But who is that? I could go with the old guy. We are of the same generation. Or, I could side with the woman. We are all sisters under the skin.. On the other hand, the young guy is kinda cute, and it may be his time. Not good reasons to decide who to vote for.
We don’t even know positively who the candidates will be. Old guy, young guy, woman. Whoever it is, I hope we elect the best one for this impossible job.
This recipe is a repeat from several years ago. What other recipe would do when talking about three United States Senators who have aspirations of becoming the next President of the United States?
Roger Kelly shared the recipe with some history about the Senate Navy Bean Soup.
In 1904, then speaker of the House "Uncle Joe" Cannon, liked the soup so much that was served in the Senate dining room, that he thundered, "From now on, hot or cold, rain or shine, I want it to be on the menu every day!"
With Easter coming up, the ham bone will be all ready for you. The author of the original recipe said it is so good, don’t wait for a leftover ham bone. Smoked ham hocks do the trick.
Senate Navy Bean Soup
you will need:
1 ½ cups navy beans soaked 3-4 hours in 1 quart water
a left- over ham bone with some ham left on it
2 cups finely chopped potatoes
3 quarts water
1 cup each chopped onion, and celery
2 T fat drippings
1 each, mashed clove garlic, and one bay leaf
1 T chopped parsley for garnish
In a stock pot, saute onions, celery, and garlic
Add potatoes and 2 cups water
Cover and cook 15 minutes
Add beans, including liquid, and bay leaf
Cover and cook until beans are tender, about one hour.
(Add water if simmering cooks water down.
When beans are done, remove bone, leave ham pieces in soup.
Salt and pepper to taste, sprinkle with parsley
Serve with crusty French or Italian bread
It is delicious. Enjoy!

from shirley's cottage

2008-03-01T09:29:00.000-06:00

Here’s Johnny

I had an idea of what I was going to write about this week, and was telling my daughter Deb. She asked if I gotten the email about Johnny the Bagger. She thought it would fit in with my story. It was about a mentally challenged young man who worked in a grocery store, bagging groceries.
The store was intent on increasing business and improving customer service. Johnny was an exemplary employee. He always made sure he had a smile and a positive word for the customer. There is a right way to bag groceries, as we all know who have taken home squashed bread, and broken bags. He never squashed the bread.
But he knew anything could improve. He took the store’s wishes to heart. And, he started putting little notes in the customers’ grocery bags. Just a few words like -- Have a good day, or Be Happy. Soon there were more lines than before at his check-out . They wanted to see what note was in their bag..
His attitude was contagious. Business increased. Employees and customers were smiling. No matter how busy the store got, his lane remained the busiest.
The forwarded email about Johnny the Bagger came from the corporate offices of a very large grocery chain, with a comment that lessons can be learned from anyone, anytime.
Deb was right. This fits in with my story..
I do merchandising in a grocery store in Madison. There is a young man who works there who does not speak English very well. He is not mentally challenged. His name is not even Johnny. But, nevertheless, he is our "Johnny the Bagger".
I really never paid much attention to him before, until I saw him riding his bike in a snowstorm.
This one morning, I had been stuck in traffic on the beltline. One day of many during the winter. I was huffing, puffing and growling as I turned into the service road, an hour late for work Again.
Pulling into the parking lot I saw a bike rider. How he pedaled through the slush, I don’t know. He didn’t even have a hat on. As he parked his bike, I recognized him as the young man who works in the store.
He brushed the snow from his hair and shoulders. He had a huge smile on his face. As big as the scowl that looked back at me in my rear view mirror.
I went into the store. He was talking to a few employees by the timeclock One of them said, "You rode your bike today? How could you go through all that snow?"
As I said, his English went wanting, but I knew what he said, "When I could not pedal, I pushed."
He had a broken tooth, but it didn’t stop him from smiling ear to ear, as he told them he wasn’t even late.
I felt like a jerk. I have a car. I have a hat. I was late. I was not smiling. Lesson learned.
I did pay attention to him that day. He greeted everyone with a smile and a " hello, how you doin’." That broken tooth kind of grows on you. So does his smile.
Today is the day of the week when dinner is late when I don’t plan ahead, (which is almost never.) This casserole is a good one to make a day ahead and just pop in the oven when you get home..
Southwestern Beef and pasta Casserole from Woman’s World Magazine
you will need:
a springform pan or deep round baking pan, about 9 inches round, sprayed with cooking spray
one pound mini penne pasta, cooked and drained (can use small shells or regular penne)
one pound ground beef
1 t Italian seasoning
1 16 oz jar each Alfredo sauce and salsa of your choice
4 eggs
2 cups Mexican shredded cheese blend
1 10 oz pkg spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
1 T chopped fresh parsley (optional)
Brown beef with seasoning,
Stir in salsa and remove from heat
In separate bowl, mix Alfredo sauce, eggs and one cup cheese
Stir in pasta
In another bowl, toss spinach with ½ cup cheese
layer ingredients: ½ pasta mix
sprinkle spinach mixture over pasta
Top with beef mixture
top with remaining pasta mixture
Sprinkle last ½ cup cheese in top
Bake at 350 degrees about one hour
Let stand for ten minutes before serving
Sprinkle with parsley if desired.
Enjoy

The Fever

2008-02-19T07:29:00.000-06:00

Cottage Fever

Cottage fever is exactly like cabin fever. You get it in February, sometimes sooner, depending on how much the winter has kept you inside.
.You don’t have a real fever, but there are a lot of other symptoms: the doldrums, depressed, anxious, short-tempered and down right crabby.
Even the animals are tired of being pent-up. The Lab and Tabby usually get along. They run after each other, tease, and play with the same ball of yarn. They sleep together and drink out of the same water bowl.
But lately, the Tabby has become aggressive and big dog thinks I can save him by climbing on my chair. (With me in it.)
When it’s time to go outside, he has to be pushed. Seconds later, he is barking, "Let me in. It ‘s cold out here."
I open the door for the cat. She stares me down. Finally, she lifts one paw, shakes it as if she is scolding me. I didn’t bring this weather... and under the table she goes, leaving me to shiver by the open door. They make me so mad! Because it’s February and I am downright crabby.
All I want to do is go outside– do the things I can’t do right now. Like my son said, "I feel like mowing the lawn." And I feel like planting my tomatoes.
That "ain’t gonna" happen for awhile. I need to find something to do inside: like clean out the closet, wash all the bedding, read a book, write some letters. But I don’t FEEL like doing any of those things.
Maybe I could get a few columns ahead . (I must be hallucinating.)
I pace. To the back door, look out. To the front door, look out. There’s the lake, or where it was the last time I could see anything. Out the front there is a huge snow pile. I think it’s my car-the plow’s favorite place to dump.
We have Wisconsin’s record snowfall of all time. I thought, "Be careful what you wish for."
It wasn’t exactly a wish, but there were several conversations in the past when comments were made on the mild winters we have had. I had to pop up with saying winters aren’t like they used to be.
Snow was several feet deep. Below zero temperatures were the norm We didn’t care. We snowmobiles, skied, sledded, snow-shoed, got outside and enjoyed the winter. This winter is like the winters I remember and enjoyed years ago.
Things are different now. The difference is me. My feet have been cold since Thanksgiving. Inside the warm mittens, my fingers are still frozen. Cold air settles on my shoulders like it lived there.
It is time for me to enjoy the winter vicariously. Let others enjoy the winter fun.
I will deal with The Fever. Maybe I’ll look at the seed catalogs, and order my tomatoes. .
If you, too, have Cabin Fever, just remember, March is not far away.
While snowbound, I got even more hooked on the cooking channel. This is from Semi-home Made with Sandra Lee. One of her grandmother’s favorites. I love old recipes. This calls for a crock-pot. (Or as they are called today, a slow-cooker)
Spoon Cake
you will need:
a medium-size crock-pot, sprayed with cooking spray
paper towel
Spice cake mix
One small instant butterscotch pudding
1 cup sour cream
3/4 cup oil
1 cup water
1 package shredded carrots
1/4 cup raisins (optional)
4 beaten eggs.
Mix all ingredients in a bowl, except carrots and raisins
stir in carrots and raisins
pour into greased crock pot
cover pot with paper towel before putting lid on (to keep moisture off of the cake)
cook on low 4-6 hours
when done
spoon into bowls and serve with ice cream and/or whipped cream
Enjoy

questions

2008-02-12T07:22:00.000-06:00

There Are Stupid Questions
I beg to differ with the people that say there are no stupid questions. Listen to this one.
It was a few years ago, early in the morning. I was driving down the lake road, and had just stopped for a school bus going the other way.
I was going to drop off a card for a friend on my way to work. I turned off the lake road, delivered the card, had a short visit, and started back.
The road I was on went downhill toward the lake. In fact, if you kept going, you would end up in the lake.
As I slowed to the stop sign, I looked and there WAS a car in the lake, half in and half out. It had to have happened while I was up the hill. We may have even passed each other.
There were two people standing by the half out part, looking at the half in part.
One of them was a nice-looking, clean-cut teenager, probably on his way to school. The man was probably his dad or his grandfather.
I sat at the stop sign looking over the situation for a minute or two. Then I turned left, pulled off the road a bit, rolled down my passenger-side window and asked the most stupid question of my life:
"What happened? Did your car go in the lake?" I got four eyes staring at me that wilted my hairdo. Their body language made me glad there was not a gun close by. Neither one of them said a word. They didn’t have to.
I got away from there pretty darn fast. What possessed me to pull up and ask that question is beyond me.
Every once in a while when I pass that road, I think of how stupid I felt, and for good reason.
There are questions that might not make the stupid list, but are still not such a good idea to ask. Like, when is your baby due? It is best to make sure she is expecting.
Don’t ask a senior how old they are. If they are proud they got this far, they will tell you without asking..
The classics are-How much do you make, how much did that cost, why did you get
fired, or who caused the divorce. How much do you weigh would be the one to avoid at all costs.
These questions may not be considered stupid, but they are not tactful or diplomatic. They may even be dangerous.
I read in Dear Abby that if someone asks a question like that, the reply should be, "Now why would you ask a question like that?" That might work.
Or, there is an old saying- Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.
I have been asked some of those questions in the past. I’m not saying I would lie, but if I was asked today, I might say, I’m forty-five years old, make $100,000 a year, my car cost $60,000, and I weigh 120.
Asking the obvious question with the equally obvious answer to be kind or make light conversation is okay in my book.
For example, on my way home from work today, I stopped for gas. The clerk said, "Really cold, isn’t it.?" Shivering I answered, "Sure is," and went on my way.
No lie. This is a different twist on the Reuben sandwich. A good choice for a cold winter day. Lunch or dinner.
you will need for six Reubens:
6 frozen hash brown patties
3 T softened butter
6 medium to thick slices of corned beef
1 ½ cup sauerkraut, rinsed and drained
or Bavarian Kraut, drained, but not rinsed
6 T brown sugar
6 T cinnamon applesauce
3/4 cup Thousand Island dressing
1 ½ cup shredded Swiss cheese
Place hash brown patties in a greased baking pan
Spread with butter
Top with corned beef
In a bowl, combine sauerkraut, brown sugar and applesauce
Spoon over the corned beef
Bake at 400 degrees for ten minutes
Remove from oven and top with salad dressing and Swiss cheese
Continue baking for ten more minutes or until heated through
Enjoy. And stay warm.

HEY LADY

2008-02-05T07:19:00.000-06:00

Hey, Lady, Can you spare a dime?
No one asks for a dime, nowadays. You can’t get a cup of coffee, use a pay phone, or buy a pack of gum.
You can still get quite a few things for a dollar, though. Fast food restaurants have dollar menus. Not counting Starbucks and the like, a small coffee is under a dollar, and a few pennies of change comes with a donut at the bakery.
The guy who stopped me the other day was not interested in a dime. Or a dollar.
It had been a long day for me. By the time I got out of work it was dark, snowing, blowing, icy and cold. I was twenty -five miles from home (little did I know then that the 25 miles would become a two-hour trip on the beltline..)
I was warming up the car and looking for my gloves and scraper when a man came up to me, saying, "Hey, lady." He proceeded to ask if I could help him and his wife and baby. He had run out of gas and needed gas money to get home. He was asking everyone coming out of the grocery store.
I was not in a very good mood, but at least I had a car and gas to get home.. Okay. I would give him a buck or two to add to what he was holding.
I didn’t totally believe him, though, thinking he might walk right into the store and buy a bottle of Boone’s Farm. But what if he really had to get his family home? I doubted it, but went for my purse.
Then he blew it. He said, " Lady, can you give me twenty dollars. My SUV is big and it takes a lot of gas."
My mouth opened and my wallet closed. My old van hadn’t seen a twenty at on since gas topped three dollars a gallon. "Sorry," I said and he knew he was not getting anything from me.
As he walked away, I heard him say to the next person, "Hey Lady----
I was telling my daughter, Tracy about it. I know she thought I was being judgmental at best, or worse, prejudiced. She thought I should have given him the few dollars.
Then she gave me the other side of the coin.
Her hours vary and many times she gets out of work late at night. This particular night she was on empty. I don’t know if the gas station did not take checks or she didn’t have her checkbook, but she was counting change to get gas..
She said to herself she hoped it would get her home. An older lady was standing behind her, obviously coming from work, too. She tapped Trac on the shoulder and said "Here, honey, take this.", and held out a five dollar bill. No questions asked.
She thanked the lady very much for her kindness, but said she was sure she could make it home. And she did.
I don’t know what happened to the man who asked me for help. He blew it when he asked for twenty.. I blew it when I didn’t give him two. Kindness is as kindness does.
I thought it would be clever to give my recipe for Poor Man’s Soup. I couldn’t find it. On second thought, It really wasn’t such a clever idea after all.
Million Dollar Cake
from the Harmony Singing Society’s Auxiliary Cookbook
you will need:
1 pkg Duncan Hines yellow cake mix
4 eggs
½ cup oil
1 11 oz can mandarin oranges and juice
1 8 oz whipped topping
1 small pkg instant vanilla pudding
1 8 oz can crushed pineapple and juice
Mix cake mix, eggs, oil and oranges.
Bake 35 minutes at 350 degrees in greased 9x13 baking pan
Cool
Mix topping, dry pudding, and pineapple
Spread on cake.
Refrigerate
Enjoy

So long

2008-01-30T08:54:00.000-06:00

So long, Mister B.

Jade was six when she got her puppy, Brando, aka Mister B. He was half German Shepherd and half Australian Shepherd.
When he was a pup, he went to obedience school. He behaved all right. You might say he listened to his own drummer, emotional, but with a gentle beat. He was a good dog, loyal and protecting.
.
He has been with Jade every day and every night since she was in first grade, through high school, and into college. Fourteen years.
Today, she had to make the hardest decision of her life. She and Deb sat in the treatment room of the vet’s hospital. The doctor said it was their choice. Her mom said it was hers.
Should Mister B be brought home to sleep maybe only a few more nights in his own bed, beside hers? Or should he be given his last hug, tears and good-by right then.
Her mom said , "See, if you didn’t have dogs, you wouldn’t have to go through this."
Jade replied, as only a dog lover can: "If you don’t have dogs, you don’t have any true friends"
The love of pets runs in the family. Except for me. I liked them all right, but didn’t have that connection, that warm and fuzzy love the rest of the family has.
Until now. With the passing of Brando, I started thinking of all the dogs that have given their unconditional love and loyalty to us.
Most of them were labs, but there were a few mutts long the way. They joined the family as pups, and lived out their life expectancy, almost all of them getting to fourteen years.
Ted was fourteen when he got Dallas, and shortly after, the kids’ aunt brought over two litter mates that needed a home. For several years our bungalow was full with seven people, three dogs, and a stray cat that decided to have her kittens in our garage.
After Dallas, Austin, the chocolate lab came along. Tracy had Medina, another lab, through her moves from Florida to Indiana and back to Illinois. Now she has three dogs, those knowing her knows she is a sucker for an animal that needs a home and love.
Kelly’s family had Sammy, the bulldog, there to stand guard for Paige and Sam.

They all had a good life, about fourteen years, a good long run for a dog, I am told.
When we lose a pet and say, "No more dogs!" we know it’s a lie.
Eventually another dog or two or three became a part of the family. They don’t take the place of the others. They squirm and bark and beg and take your heart in their own special way.
When the time is right, Jada will make the same decision, and a new puppy will join the family.
If there is a doggie heaven, they will all be there. So long, Mister B, Dallas, Austie, Medina, Huggy, Ole, Sammy, Jordan and Tyson. You were loved and won’t be forgotten.
Even when we’re sad, we have to eat. Comfort food is on the menu. To me, the best comfort meal is meat loaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, salad and vegetable. Cooking may not be high on the list right now. Veggies can be frozen, the mashed potatoes at the store are really good. You can get already cut up salad. A good easy gravy is mushroom soup, sour cream, and a dash of Gravy Master. Then all the attention can be on making the meat loaf.
Mom’s Meat Loaf
from McCall’s Magazine, October, 1997
This is for two loafs, one can be frozen to have another time.
You will need:
1 T olive oil
3 cups chopped onion
1 ½ cups diced red pepper (optional)
1 T garlic
3 eggs
1 (11 oz) tomato sauce with Italian herbs
½ cup milk
1 T Worcestershire sauce
1 cup dried bread crumbs
3/4 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup chopped parsley
salt and pepper to taste
2 pounds ground chuck
2 pounds ground pork
Saute onion, pepper, and garlic in olive oil
Whisk rest of ingredients except meat and parsley (Save a little of the sauce to brush top of loaves)
Add meat, parsley, and sauteed vegetables
Mix well
Shape into two loafs, brushing tops with sauce
Bake at 350 for about an hour or until done in middle
Put your meal together and enjoy.

2008-01-22T19:02:00.000-06:00

Who’s Your Sister?

Are you an only child? Do you have siblings? Or maybe you have only one, a sister.
You could have been an only child for 5 ½ years, the only grandchild, the only niece, and very happy being an only child.
Happy until this baby sister came along, who now got all the attention. Everyone said how cute she was, and always asked, "How do you "liked my new baby sister." oh, brother, if they only knew.
Your mom had to sit up with her at night, ( she had bronchitis) rocking her in YOUR rocking chair.
You went from being a perfect child to a little brat trouble-maker, jealous of this little person that was ruining your life. The doctor told your mom to make you feel important, like she couldn’t take care of the baby without you..Your poor mom.
But it worked. As a result, or maybe it would have happened anyway, you began to dote on your baby sister. It didn’t even bother you that as you grew up she had to tag-a-long. There was no jealously.
Did you have to go the Capitol Theater with your grandparents? Having to wait until they got their free dishes. Having to see a cowboy movie, every Wednesday in the summer.
There were plenty of times you would have to go "Sunday driving" with them. They were good grandparents, but grampa drove 30 miles an hour, and the windows had to be up, even in the summer. At least you learned a little Lithuanian. They spoke Lithuanian, trying to teach you the language.
Every week-end your mom and dad, your sister and you would head for lake Waubesa. If it was night, you would sleep in the back, taking turns laying on the floor with the hump in your back. The seat was better, but the floor was the most fun when your dad would take a hill and dip in the road fast. Your stomach would have to catch up with you. (There were only country roads then, no interstate.)
On road trips, or rides, your favorite car game was humming songs for the other one to guess. Humming might not have been your forte, but it was fun, anyway.
Did you remain close after you grew up and got married?. There were some years when you didn’t get together except for the kids. Seven cousins in less than ten years.
How alike you are, but then so different. You are the loud mouth. Sometimes talking before you think. She, the quiet one. Sometimes keeping too much to herself.
Alike in your priorities. Your parents gave you the love of family, strength, and the knowledge that life is not fair, That strength has come in handy.
You remember things in different ways. You may have found out she is stubborn when she knows she is right. And so are you.
Does she know how, after all these years, you are so sorry she didn’t get the horse she wanted as a child? It is one time you wish you would not have kept quiet.
Did you and she meet recently for a rare lunch date with your cousin? Looked at pictures. Reminisced.
Did you wonder at how the years went by so fast, and hated to say your age out loud, as if you didn’t say it, it would not be so.
Did you look at her, not seeing the years, but just your kid sister, and hope she saw her older sister, but not too old.
Does she know how happy you are for her that a lot of her tough times are over. Does she know how much you love her?
Could she be your sister? Or, could she be mine.
Our mom’s favorite cake, Mexican Fruit Cake
you will need:
a 9x13 baking pan, greased
1 20 oz can crushed pineapple and juice
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
½ cup chopped nuts
2 t baking soda
Stir all ingredients together. Bake at 350 for 35 minutes
Frosting
8 oz cream cheese, softened
2 cups powdered sugar
1 stick butter, melted
1 t vanilla
mix together and frost cake while still warm
Enjoy!

weather

2008-01-14T20:47:00.000-06:00

Everybody talks about the weather, but–
---what can we do about it. Nothing but talk about it.
Just this morning when I went to the bank drive-in. I said, "Well, snow again, and it looks like more. And colder weather, too" She courteously replied, "Yes, more snow, and colder"
She could have said, "You dummy. It’s the middle of winter in Wisconsin. What do you expect?" Maybe she was thinking it.
The weather is nothing to take lightly. It has rained on many bowls of potato salad at picnics. Rain cancels baseball games, takes graduations indoors, and weddings under the tent.
Not enough snow disappoints snowmobilers, and not enough cold brings the fishing shacks off the lake.
There are times, though, when the weather does not stop the heartiest of men and women from doing their jobs.
Did you see Brett Favre do his job last week-end? He was like a little boy playing with his buddies in the snow.
Neither rain nor snow nor sleet keeps my mail from being delivered, or the newspapers to my neighbors. You can set your clock by the gals that deliver my mail. My neighbor delivers mail in another town. She is always long gone before I’m out of my driveway.
. They all do an outstanding job. It is their job and it has to be done.
The people that also get my respect are my diehard lake road walkers. They don’t have to walk every day. They just do. It kind of makes me feel guilty when I’m driving and they are walking. It kind of makes me jealous, too.
These are the gals that bundle up when it’s freezing, take umbrellas when it’s raining, and wear shorts and sun screen when it’s hot and sunny.
One man is a very early riser. Many times it is still dark. You can’t miss him, though. He has his flashlight and reflector, and never fails to wave, even in the dark.
There is a man that won’t wave if you got out and waved in his face. I’m sure he is a nice guy, and just wants his walk without interruption. I wave anyway.
Then there are the dog walkers. From the couple that walk their (are they greyhound?) to the lady whose dog trots, and she has a spring in her step.

There was a cute one the other day. A couple with their dog came to the lake road. They turned right, but that darn dog wanted to go the other way. He pulled at his harness and was adamant about going left. Guess which way they went.
I envy them all. I used to be a walker. Somewhere along the way, I lost my focus and got lazy. Then I got a bum knee and blames that.
I am inspired by my lake road walkers to start again. I’ll start slow and even take the dog. On second thought, I think I’ll wait until spring.
Winter in Wisconsin or anywhere means a lot of soups, stews, and casseroles. This recipe for Turkey Tetrazzini is different that the one I have used with leftover Thanksgiving turkey. You can substitute chicken or ham, or use all three.
Turkey Tetrazzini
from Southern Living Magazine
you will need for eight servings:
a 15x10 or 9x13 baking dish, greased
1 small can mushroom soup
2/3 cup milk
1 16 oz jar Alfredo sauce
3 ½ cups chopped turkey, chicken, or ham
12 oz thin spaghetti, cooked
1 10 oz package petite peas, thawed
8 oz sliced fresh mushrooms
1 ½ cups shredded baby Swiss
1 cup Parmesan cheese, divided
½ cup crushed garlic-onion seasoned croutons
1/4 t paprika
Whisk together soup and milk, then whisk in Alfredo sauce
Stir in the meat, the next four ingredients, and ½ cup Parmesan
Pour mixture into the pan
Stir together remaining Parmesan, croutons, and paprika
Sprinkle over casserole
Bake uncovered at 375 for 30 minutes and uncovered for 15 minutes
Let stand for ten minutes before serving
Enjoy
P.S. This can be frozen and baked later.(Thaw before baking)

ketchup

2008-01-11T08:54:00.000-06:00

The Ketchup Study
You call it ketchup. I call it catsup. However it is spelled or pronounced, I love it.
I put it on everything from a good steak to chop suey. I have to have it on my eggs, scrambled or fried.
The late, ex-President Nixon put catsup on his cottage cheese. I haven’t tried that yet. But it sounds pretty good.
One time, my friend Judy and I went to a hypnotist in Marengo, Illinois. Judy went to quit smoking. I went to give up catsup. It lasted about three days. For both of us.
There was a year when I gave up catsup for Lent. Everyone else was giving up chocolate. Me-catsup.
I am not a snob. Any brand will do.
I can hear my daughter saying, "Yeah, so what’s your point?" I do have a point. I’ll get to it.
Lately there seems to be a rash of information on studies that makes me nuts. Our tax money and research funds being spent on crazy subjects that make no sense, at least to me.
I’ve heard about everything from the sex lives of bugs to what makes us fat.
I don’t care about the sex life of a bug, and I KNOW what makes us fat.
The one I heard on the radio this week said the study revealed that a women could become obese if she slept more that nine hours a night or less than seven .Based on that report, I’m going right out and buy an alarm clock.
When I hear things like that, and the hundreds of million , maybe trillions of dollars being spent on special interests, I say to myself, "Another ketchup study."
The ketchup study was an experiment to see what brand of ketchup poured faster and how long it took to empty the bottle. When I heard this one, I never forgot it. The cost was in six figures. I don’t remember the exact amount, but I remember the study and my reaction-how stupid.
Give me a break. Here’s the answer. The thicker the ketchup, the slower it pours. I would have done that study for just a lifetime supply of catsup. How about a study on common sense.
My point is, this is just a tiny tip of a never-ending iceberg in government spending. If I made a resolution for 2008, it would be to get better informed. No resolution but a commitment to gather information. What can be done? I don’t know.
I think this type of spending is called "porking" or the pork barrel. Anyway, it’s got something to do with pork. Please pass the catsup.
It isn’t hard for me to give a recipe using catsup.
.
Hamburger Nests
for four servings you will need:
a twelve count muffing tin sprayed with Pam
12 slices thin sliced bread (45 calorie slice)
(oatmeal if available)
½ pound lean beef (10% or less fat)
1 onion, chopped
1/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs
1/4 cup catsup
3 T catsup
1 egg, slightly beaten
salt and pepper to taste
1/3 cup shredded cheddar
place one slice of bread in each muffin cup
press firmly to mold bread into the shape of the cup
combine all ingredients except 1/4 cup catsup and cheese
Spoon meat mixture evenly into cups
Top with remaining catsup
Sprinkle with cheese
Bake at 350 until beef is done and browned, about 25 minutes
Kids love this.
Enjoy

Happy New Year

2007-12-31T07:33:00.000-06:00

No More New Year’s Resolutions
The holiday season gets me so mixed up I don’t even know what day it is. Christmas on Tuesday felt like Sunday. I thought Wednesday was Monday. I took the garbage out and almost went to work.
I got smarter the next week and didn’t take the garbage out. On the wrong day. I stayed in most of the time and just enjoyed the most beautiful snow I had seen in years. It wasn’t too cold. The trees and bushes white with snow made me want to try out my new camera that Santa brought.
The end of the year was about the same for me as years past, except for one thing: I did not make New Year’s Resolutions. They were about the same every year. From staying on a diet to keeping the dishes done. And the all-time resolution breaker–do not procrastinate.
Sometimes my list was so long, I would have had to reinvent myself to live up to what I had written. But most years, the resolutions were broken before the Christmas tree came down.
As I write this, the newspaper is being delivered .The garbage truck is backing down the lane with its beeper alive and well. And I am scrambling to make deadline. I’m glad I don’t have a list.
That doesn’t mean I won’t try. With this New Year I am going to make a real effort to be more thoughtful and be a better listener. Sometimes it isn’t what people say, but how they say it.
I wasn’t surprised but saddened by some responses to after Christmas chatter. Before Christmas we say "Merry Christmas" to everyone we meet. After Christmas, it’s, "And how was your Christmas?" Many times I would hear, "It was okay," or "I got through it," The happiest voices said, " I’m glad it is over." (I was in the last group. It gets so hectic.)
I need to remember that the holidays are a tough time for a lot of people. It may be because of sickness, the loss of a loved one, money, any number of things. Or maybe just, "Bah, humbug."
The happiest Christmases are those lucky enough to have little children who know there is a Santa. And those lucky enough to know why we have Christmas in the first place.
Three days into the New Year, things are going well at the cottage. I have a WEEK to get my next column written, the dishes are done, and there is no chocolate in the house. And all without resolutions.
My thoughts are good ones for you and yours. We have a whole year to get ready for Christmas.
No matter what our mood, Mother Nature gave us a treat at the end of the year.. Just the kind of winter that Wisconsin can deliver. What is more comforting on a winter’s night, but a good thick soup or stew. Try these biscuits with your meal.
Garlic Cheese Biscuits
you will need:
1 1/4 cup Bisquick
1/3 cup water
½ cup grated sharp Cheddar cheese
½ stick butter
1/4 t garlic powder
1/4 t salt
1/8 t dried parsley flakes
Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper if you have it
combine the Bisquick and cheese
add the water and stir-dough will be slightly moist
Drop by tablespoonfuls onto baking sheet
Bake for about ten minutes until firm and beginning to brown
Mix the rest of the ingredients to make the garlic butter
Brush biscuits using a pastry brush as soon as they come out of the oven
Enjoy
p.s. you can also use the garlic butter on Pillsbury Oven Baked Buttermilk Biscuits.
They are really good, too.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-23T18:19:00.000-06:00

A Friend Is Someone Who Likes You

That is the title of a book my best friend gave me in 1955. I have been looking for it off and on. It is a small book, about twenty pages–no bigger than a greeting card. .It got lost in the shuffle when we moved to the cottage, but I finally found it.
It was somewhat of a sad find. My best friend in 1955 is not my best friend now. In fact, for various reasons, we are estranged. It had to be. But it still leaves a leak in the heart.
When I was young, I had several "best friends". I also had a list of friends and acquaintances. . My insecurities made me want to have EVERYONE like me. But it is a lot of hard work. There are many times you have to be something you’re not.
I had to be careful what I said or did. A judgement or criticism might anger someone or have them think less of me. It was very important to me then.
As the years went by, the list grew shorter. I was too busy raising a family to work that hard. If someone didn’t like the real me, so be it.
I do not add family into the list. The family list is unique and unconditional. Birth adds. Death, distance, or circumstance does not subtract.
I still have one of my childhood friend. We met at the bus stop when we were starting Lincoln Junior High–nicknamed Stinkin’ Lincoln by its loyal students.. We became best friends that first day and remain so today..
Best friends don’t have to be from childhood. I also have a new best friend.
It was 8 ½ years ago. I had quit a job I loved, packed up my mom, and moved to the cottage, I took a part-time job merchandising. I have had a variety of jobs , but nothing like this. We went into retail stores and did everything from stocking to labeling, auditing, and even remodeling. I was no spring chicken, even then, and was really nervous about what I didn’t know.
The guy that trained me that first day was smart, a good teacher and a pretty nice guy. Actually, I didn’t even remember his name. I was too busy learning my new job.
We worked together for a few months. During that time we became friends. Someone who knew us both, could not understand our friendship. I responded with, "I like his brain."
Here I was a sixty something grandmother, no college and engrossed in family. Bill was young enough to be my son, divorced with a grown son, a college graduate, and very intelligent.
Nonetheless, we became friends. It was not hard work at all. I didn’t realize how good a friend he was. until he got a different job and moved. He moved several times, but we kept in touch, and exchanged several visits. Then he remarried and moved from the North Woods to Tennessee.
Several years ago I wrote of his marriage to Judy. The wedding took place in a lodge in the North Woods. I got to the lodge early and was relaxing in the pool, when his family arrived. He escorted them through the walkway alongside the pool, pointed to me, and said, "That be Shirley." Well, nobody is perfect-not even a best friend.
I just deleted the paragraph that describes why he is my best friend. It really doesn’t matter why. He just is. The bottom line is-A friend is someone who likes you.
There is no recipe today. Instead I would like to end with a few lines from poets who can say it better than me.
These are two lines from a poem titled: New Friends and Old Friends
Make new friends, but keep the old
Those are silver, these are gold.
This is for you, my silver friend. I always liked silver better than gold, anyway.
Friendship
Oh the comfort of feeling safe with a friend
Having neither to weigh thoughts
Nor measure words-but pouring them
all right out-just as they are-
Certain that a faithful hand will
take and sift them–
Keep what is worth keeping-
And with the breath of kindness
Blow the rest away.
At the end of the year, let us reflect on what our friends mean to us-
And what we mean to them.
Happy New Year
Enjoy

five days and five nights

2007-12-18T07:22:00.000-06:00

Five Days and Five Nights
— left for Christmas shopping. How long can I wait? Four more days, I think.
I have said, maybe too many times, that I am not a shopper. Not just at Christmastime, but anytime.
For example, my granddaughter has a December birthday. What do you get a college student? I am out of the loop when it comes to fashion, music, or the popular trends of the times.
Happy Birthday, Jade! And Nikki, too.
Anyway, gift giving time is here again. What do I do this year. I can’t rely on Penney’s catalog anymore like I used to do when they were kids.
Money and gift cards seem so cold. But I think that is the way of the future for me. It would save my family a lot of hassle returning things I thought were "cool" and "neat".
It reminds me of the Christmas that Santa left a pair of boots by the fireplace for Kelly. She was too old to get a doll, or so I thought. I also thought those boots in the catalog were cool and neat. They looked like designer boots, high tops and braiding on the side.
Some things we never forget. Even now, thirty years later, the gift of "those dumb boots" sneaks into the conversation. Not by me.
What kind of fun can it be for everyone to be opening a piece of plastic or a money card.. How would it look with a few envelopes under the tree and no real presents.
If I give money, it might be spent a little here and there-- gas, groceries, a bill. If I give a gift card, do I get it at one place, or get several for different stores. And what stores would be the best. Do you see my dilemma?
Yes, we know the real meaning of Christmas. But, to be honest, gift giving is right up there. Just think of Black Friday.
How can I say Merry Christmas, I love you, with a piece of plastic? I guess I can. As well as a dumb pair of boots.
How about I attach the envelop to a small gift . I could get some of those pretty gift bags everyone is using now. The only problem with that is, by the time I get stocking stuffers, and try to find small gifts, I’m shopping! And probably buying dumb stuff.
Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out. I always do. Some years are better than others.. The family will survive my gift giving. They always do.
What really counts is to be together, if possible. For one day and one night, leave the problems behind. Keep smiling and enjoy. Merry Christmas.
There is still time to add to the holiday menu. We like to add something new, and it is hard to decide what to try, especially a side dish.
This asparagus was on the menu for a wedding reception. I think it would fit into any holiday meal It would be great to take to a potluck.
Marinated Asparagus
you will need:
1 ½ pounds fresh asparagus, end trimmed
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup white vinegar
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 T canola oil
1/4 cup finely chopped pecans or walnuts, lightly toasted
Fill a large frying pan with 2 inches of water
Bring to a rolling boil
Plunge the asparagus into the water and remove after one minute
Drain immediately and pat dry
Place asparagus in a 13 x 9 casserole dish
In a separate bowl, whisk vigorously remaining ingredients except nuts
Pour over asparagus. Cover and chill for at least 8 hours.
To serve, drain the marinade and place asparagus on a serving dish
Sprinkle with the nuts
The nuts make this dish crunchy and delicious
Enjoy

2007-12-11T08:31:00.000-06:00

2007-12-11T08:27:00.000-06:00

Christmas, Food, and Gram
I went into the News office to tell my editor I would be turning in my Christmas column for this week. I wasn’t going to take the chance of missing the early deadline like I did for Thanksgiving.
All my girlfriends were working: Amy, Sydney, and Ann. All smiling. Happy to be working, I guess.
I asked my eternal question: What can I write about? This is my fourth or fifth Christmas from Shirley’s cottage. It always goes back to traditions.
In previous years I told how all the stockings Gram made were hung on our fireplace. Christmas Eve everyone spent the night, some of us sleeping in front of the fireplace, waiting for Santa.
The early evening menu was tuna and noodles, shrimp, and gelfilta fish. Coming home after Midnight Mass we would have the meat dishes, trimmings and desserts.
These things came into my mind as I was asking the girls for ideas.,
Sydney asked me what my favorite holiday dish was. I came back with, "What is yours?" .
Choices went from sauerkraut and kilbasa to cardamon bread.: Twice-baked loaded sweet potatoes to sauerkraut pie. (I need the recipe for that!)
We all have our traditions. They mean more than we realize. Until they are gone.
The next generation has started some new ones, but the some of the old ones will always be. We have moved out of the house on Charles Street. But—we still have a fireplace.
Tracy has had Christmas Eve for the past few years. When she bought her house, she made sure she had a fireplace put in before Christmas.
So there is a still a place to hang all the stockings Gram made. She made so many, including extras for those to come when she was gone.
In the old days, Gram made ALL the food. I remember her coming home from work on Christmas Eve. She would stand at the sink, cleaning shrimp, while people were coming in. The days before she would make all the Lithuanian dishes we took for granted.
When the girls at the News asked about my favorite dish, I should have said anything my mom made.
Deb makes some of the dishes Gram made. She is determined to keep the Lithuanian traditions going. When she was a kid, she would stand on a chair and help when Gram was cooking. Today, when she cooks one of Gram’s dishes, she says there are times she can feel Gram by her shoulder saying, "Just a little more sugar, Deb."
I don’t think Gram had any special cooking talent. I think she had lots of practice. And lots of patience. Patience to dice and slice small, not just cut up as fast as possible just to get the work done. Patience to beat, cream, and whip as long as necessary.
Don’t discount the love. She cooked with love, made stockings with love. Our tradition continues with her love.
On this week before Christmas, I sincerely wish the best for all of you and your families.
It would be so great to keep the spirit all year. We can only try.
One of our traditions is to get pies from Baker’s Square. That started because I have never made a pie crust. Our favorite is Lemon Supreme. One day I found a recipe and tried it. Not the same, but good.
Lemon Supreme Pie
(Makes two pies or a 9x13 baking dish)
you will need:
for the crust:
6 T butter or margarine
1 cup flour
½ cup finely chopped pecans
for the filling:
1 8 oz and 1 4 oz cream cheese
1 ½ cup powdered sugar
1 ½ cup whipped topping
2 small packages Jello lemon pudding and pie filling
juice of one lemon
1 pint heavy whipping cream, whipped.
Cut butter into flour until crumbly
Stir in pecans
Press into bottom of two ungreased pie tins, or one baking dish
Bake at 350 for 15 minutes. Cool
Beat cream cheese and powdered sugar until fluffy
Fold in whipped topping
Spread over crust and chill
In a saucepan cook pudding to direction
Stir in lemon juice Cool slightly
Spread over cream cheese Chill
Before serving top with whipped cream (Not whipped topping)
Enjoy! and Merry Christmas.

Christmas

2007-12-11T08:24:00.000-06:00

let it snow

2007-12-04T06:32:00.000-06:00

Let It Snow
Let it snow, but hold back the sleet and ice. The first bad weather of the winter, (actually it’s still fall), hit us like a ton of bricks. From the weather reports it’s hitting the whole country. We just got ours sooner.
By the looks of the local grocery store, the whole town believed the weather man. There wasn’t an open space in the parking lot, and there were no carts. Somebody said they knew they were busy when they saw a six foot 200 pound guy pushing a kiddie cart.
Deb and Jade had a whole day planned in Rockford with the hairdresser, lunch with Aunt Tracy, errands, and shopping. They got on highway 73, and smartly turned and came back home.
They had cabin fever and were not too happy. Not a lot of fun, but they were safe, and that made this grandmother and mother breathe a sigh of relief.
I had better luck the day before. I also had a day planned in Rockford. I had lunch with Judy and Bev, best friends from childhood. We don’t get together that much anymore. We tty to make a date during the holidays.
We talked about very important things; what are we going to order for lunch, are we having dessert or an after lunch drink, or both?
Then we started on who has the most aches and pains and where they are. We do become our mothers.
Strangely, none of us tried to outdo the other bragging about our grandchildren. We didn’t even take out our pictures. That was a first.
It really doesn’t matter what we talked about. It was good to be together again. I looked at my old friends (old in the best sense of the word). To me they didn’t look any different than when we were walking home from school, wearing our saddle shoes, poodle skirts and bat-wing sweaters. So what if now our hair is a slightly different color, our shoes are therapeutic, and the only bats are in our belfry. We are still best friends.
We had our hugs and good-byes. It was getting dark.. I was glad to get home. I was glad to BE home.
The next morning the sky opened up and instantly dumped snow and sleet that kept most of us in, except at the grocery store.
I was sorry my kids didn’t get their day out, but they’ll have another one real soon. As for me, I can wait another year.

Food and recipes were also subjects at lunch. Both Judy and Bev are very good cooks.
Bev has some Spanish genes. She makes a mean enchilada. Judy’s chocolate chip cookies are the kind you grab a handful of before she can slap your hand.
I gave this one a few years ago. It is good for a busy time like this. It can be made the day ahead.
Bev’s Enchilada Bake
you will need:
8-10 regular size tortillas (for a 9m x 13 pan)
4-5 cans mild enchilada sauce (do not use the powder mix)
1 ½ pounds ground beef
2 small cans slice ripe olives
2 cups regular shredded sharp cheddar
one medium to large sweet onion, finely diced
hot sauce
Brown meat and drain
cover bottom of pan with one can sauce
fill tortillas with meat, sprinkle meat with a little onion and cheese
roll up and place side by side in pan (two will go longways in pan)
pour rest of sauce over tortillas Be sure they are all covered with sauce.
Cover with the rest of the onions and cheese
Top with the olives
Bake covered at 375 degrees for 10 minutes
uncover and bake at 350 until sauce bubbles and cheese is melted 15-20 minutes
Serve with hot sauce on the side for the brave.
Enjoy

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-19T18:56:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving, 2007

It would be almost sacrilegious not to write about Thanksgiving. , .
In past Thanksgiving columns I have told about our traditions, how thankful we are to be a family that loves each other, and how we miss our family that is no longer with us.
Excuse me for repeating anything from years back. But if I can’t remember what I wrote, you might not either.
I have been around for many Thanksgiving dinners. The first few years I of course don’t remember, but I have seen pictures of those happy days.
My grandma had the big dinner at her house until, after winning many battles, she lost her war. Then it was my mom’s turn.
Until got married. Then my family was invited to my in-laws They were such perfect days with my folks there, and we didn’t even have to cook. That went on for years. It was great.
Then it was my turn. We had everyone over at our house. By that time my mom was living with us. It was a joint effort. My mom was the Iron Chef and I was the side man.
And then, one year, it all came apart. My sister’s family grew and they had their own dinner. My kids were scattered. Ted was in college in Louisiana. Deb went to her in-laws in Wisconsin. Tracy had moved to Florida. Kelly and her family were in some other state, I don’t remember which one.
That left my husband, my mom, and me. I don’t know who said it-it was probably me. (I have been know to have some kooky ideas that sounded good at the time.)
We, (I) decided to not cook dinner, and take the day and clean all the carpeting in the house. My husband could have the couch and the whole day to watch football.
My mom worked on her Christmas stockings. (There was always more to make, including the dogs. Those stockings are a part of my mom that is a big part of our Christmas.
Anyway, I rented the Rug Doctor, went upstairs and started in my mom’s room. By the time I got to the dining room, my husband was watching the game with his eyes closed and "breathing" deeply.
It was time to eat. I boiled some hot dogs, served with Fisher Potato Chips. (If you lived in Rockford, you ate Fisher’s) I had a Coke in the bottle, and my husband a big glass of milk. I hope my mom had a beer.. That was our Thanksgiving dinner.
I’ll tell you something: That was a very depressing day. I felt like we were the only ones on the face of the earth that were not at a Thanksgiving dinner with family. The hot dogs weren’t even turkey dogs.
I’ve thought about that day. I should have gone to help serve food at the Salvation Army. I never did, but someday, when I turn the bird over to the girls, I will do it.
Our dinner this year will not see us all together. It’s okay, though, for half us will be at the lake, and half in Minneapolis. We will connect by phone, We will say, " Happy Thanksgiving, I love you." Before you know it, it will be Thanksgiving, 2008.
Until then, my friends, happy holidays to all of you.
It’s too late to give you any new recipes for your dinner I always thing I am going to try something new, but it always goes back to my mom’s bread dressing, and Texas Sheet Cake.
With Crock pot season coming, I got this one that would be good with your left-overs for the week-end.
, Crockpot Pear and Cherry Buckle
You will need:
1 26 ounce can cherry pie filling
2 15 ounce cans diced pears in syrup
1 box yellow cake mix
1 stick butter, cut into small pieces
1 t almond extract
1 packet maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal
whipped cream for serving
Spray a 5 quart crockpot with butter flavored cooking spray
Combine pie filling, pears and almond extract
Pour into crockpot
Sprinkle cake mix over fruit and dot with butter
Combine instant oatmeal and almond extract
Sprinkle over cake mixture
Place 8 paper towels over crockpot and secure with lid
(This traps the steam)
Cook on low for 4-6 hours-Do not lift lid for first 3 hours
Serve warm with whipped cream
Enjoy

trees

2007-11-13T16:15:00.000-06:00

I think that I shall never see–an ugly tree

Joyce Kilmer said it best in the early 1900's when he wrote "I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a tree."
I thought of that poem one day last week as I was traveling for my job. I figured as long as I had to travel 160 miles, with gas over three dollars a gallon, I might as well enjoy the ride and do some sight-seeing.
Right away the trees caught my eye. (Also keeping my eye on the road, of course.)
The highway that takes you from Baraboo to Fox Lake to Beaver Dam has a feeling of the mountains. The hills rise high on both sides of the road, and are covered with every kind of tree.
Then I came upon a whole woods of white birches, my favorite tree. I pulled into a roadside and took a minute to remember..
My mom and dad, sister and myself were on vacation in the North Woods. I was about nine, my sister five years younger. It was the last trip we took as a family. Shortly after, my folks bought a tavern and it was year ‘round work.
That day we didn’t have a care in the world. We were surrounded by the tall beautiful birches. We ran through the woods, playing tag with our folks. We ended up at lake’s edge, out of breath and laughing. When I see birch trees, I think of that day and how perfect it was..
I don’t see willow trees very often. There was a perfect one in our home in Illinois.. The branches all touched the ground. My husband was a quiet guy. There were times he would sit out there by that tree. A little neighbor boy would come over, sit beside him and they would just talk. I always wondered what they talked about. .Eventually the willow got cut down. It was sad to see it go.
Come to think of it, I really like all trees.
The thing about trees is they do not discriminate. They grow in all kinds of soil, they even grow out of rock. They grow next to each other, not caring what kind their neighbor is. Evergreens share their space with dead trunks holding gnarly branches, trees still dressed in their beautiful colors, and trees whose green leaves refuse to turn.
I still had trees on my mind as I turned onto 12 and 18, and almost home. In the middle of a mown corn field, stood one lone evergreen. It would look great decorated for Christmas. But they would have to have a heck of a long extension cord.
Then came the apple orchard. I never noticed it much all summer. Now with the fruit and leaves gone, those trees have a strange shape with a personality of their own.
Maybe the trees make such a statement in the fall because there are no flowers or plants to get our attention. Now is their time to shine.
If you walk or drive down the lake road, take a look. There is every kind of tree you can imagine. Even a willow tree.
I’ll stick up for the big firs the utility company mutilated. It isn’t their fault. They are not ugly, just very interesting.
As I finished my day, and my tree gazing, I pulled into my drive and saw the big stump that used to be the towering elm in our front yard.
That stump is not ugly, either. I won’t dig it up.. When I look at it, I do not see a stump. I see my dad standing under those huge branches, saying, "Sold." on the day he bought the cottage.
Fall is a time of changes. Our cooking changes from picnics to comfort food. It is time for more casseroles and crock-pot recipes.
I improvised on this one when it called for 2 packages of wild rice. I went to the store and it was $5 plus for one package. I said to myself, "No, I don’t think so." Then I saw Rice-a-
roni wild rice for a buck a package. I tried it, and it worked!
Chicken and rice, economy style
you will need:
2 6 ounce package Wild Rice-a-rani
2-3 cups diced cooked chicken
2 cans green beans, drained, or 8 ounce frozen cut green beans, cooked
1 8 ounce can water chestnuts, drained and chopped
1 medium onion, sauted
one can mushroom, drained, or 4 ounces fresh (optional)
one cup shredded cheddar
one can condensed celery soup
one can water
1 cup Mayo, not Miracle Whip
Cook rice to directions
Mix all ingredients together except soup, water and mayo
When mixed, add soup and mayo
add water if necessary to make moist
Bake in greased casserole dish at 350 for 20-25 minutes, or until bubbly
Serve with Mandarin oranges on the side
And enjoy

From Shirley's Cottage

2007-11-09T10:50:00.000-06:00

Hi Elaine-Thanks for the support and the rest of my small but wonderful bloggers.

Hi Bill-could not get the time thing or the potpourri together. I almost forgot to blog this

Getting Ready For Winter

I drove down the lake road-15 mph, like my husband used to do–just looking at the lake. There were what seemed like hundreds of geese (or whatever they are,) congregated near the shore. Some of them were tail-up. They had taken over where piers had been.
Every day the past few weeks, another pier, and more boats were taken in for the winter. The week-ends were the days you would see the hip boots and plaid shirts pulling in the pieces, knowing at the end of the chore there would be a hot or cold brew waiting,
In the spring, our pier is one of the first to go in. Things kept happening that postponed the job until it looked like it would be the last to come out.
I thought the snow would fly before the old pontoon got parked for another year.
I worried that my boys would freeze their feet wearing the leaky boots.(it seems like no matter how many boots you have, they eventually pop leaks.)
I shouldn’t have worried. The pier is stacked on the shore. The boats are dry-docked.
The boots did leak: the feet got wet and cold. But they survived. Warm socks and pizza cured everything.
I shouldn’t have worried because it wasn’t my gig. Everything got done, and they didn’t need me at all.
Maybe that is what bothered me. It all got done just fine without me. I didn’t even make the pizza.
I remember times when we had a boat lift. I was in the muck to my waist pushing that thing, helping getting it on shore.
It was only a couple of years ago that it was my job to drive the pontoon across the bay so we could trailer it. That year the motor quit right in the middle. I floated and paddled close to shore, jumped in the water, tied up to a rock and walked home down the lake road, sopping wet.
I know it sounds crazy, but that was a heck of a lot more fun than worrying if things would get done right and on time.
Times change. People change. Jobs change. There is a time when you are no longer the camp leader. You watch as the pontoon glides across the bay, and the pier comes out for another year. And all you do is order the pizza.

I was sad at first. But as I watched my family work together, I was proud. After all, if it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t be here to do the good job. Looks like I did a pretty good job, too.
In the spring, when it all goes in again, I’ll make the pizza.
I might even make peanut butter balls. Last year I got the peanut butter ball recipe from our friend, Carol. She always makes wonderful holiday cookies. Her peanut butter balls are so great, my grown-up kids fight over them. I tried to make them. They didn’t turn out. I am not the baker Carol is. I found this recipe for kids to make. Just down my alley.
Peanut Butter Balls
you will need:
1 cup honey
2 cups powdered milk
Mix peanut butter, honey, and milk together in a large bowl to form a very thick mixture. (The kids use their hands instead of a spoon. It works better.)
Roll into balls the size desired.
Then roll the balls into
crushed corn flakes or
finely chopped or powdered sugar
Place on waxed paper and refrigerate for 20 minutes
Eat and enjoy!

From Shirley's Cottage

2007-10-31T14:55:00.000-05:00

Br My Guest
Lu Ferron is about to be a grandma for the first time. When that happens you want to tell everyone what "you" have accomplished. I suggested that she write a guest column and she took me up on it. You go, grandma!

Grandmas In Training
Grandmas in training. That’s what my son-in-law’s mother and I are calling ourselves. And boot camp has been a real challenge for us thus far.
My daughter and her husband have been on a long road to parenthood. Becky is finally pregnant with twin boys. She and Mark scaled some high walls and braved some treacherous waters. Years of trying the "natural" way, their path was severely deviated when they found out in March of 2006 that they needed to look at alternative routes to parenthood.
Thanks to some remarkable doctors in Iowa City, and 2 unsuccessful tries at IVF, Becky and Mark finally had successful transfer of embryos in April.
I’ll forever treasure the phone call I received telling me of this success. I was in Portland, OR, visiting my son, Jon. Becky was going to be having the test on May third, so I was anticipating hearing from her. It was May second: Jon was at work so I drove up into Washington State to play tourist. I was at a spectacular Lilac Garden when my phone rang.
I answered "Hi Bec." Her reply was, "Hi Grandma." Oh, what a delight! Pure joy! I must have squealed because suddenly people around me were staring. I gleefully told them, "My daughter is PREGNANT!"
Then I asked Becky how she was, and whom I was permitted to share the news with. She responded, "Besides the entire state of Washington?" We laughed that laugh that only a mother and daughter can share. I walked on air the rest of the day
Becky was on bed rest for a while early due to some complications, but these babies were determined to stay and grow.
Then this week, the babies became "unsettled" and she was taken to the hospital in Davenport. She is doing okay for now. The boys are alive and well. Our hope is that they wait another five weeks before they are born.
My frustration is that I have been dealing with a virus, and cannot be there to help and just see my daughter. This is where patience is born and grows, I believe. I need to trust that Becky and Mark and the boys will be taken care of by others until I can get there.
With all this going on and as "Grandmas in Training", comfort food comes to mind. Beef stew, pumpkin pie, warm apple muffins, served with apple butter. Here’s a recipe for the muffins. Enjoy!
Apple and Pecans Muffins with cream cheese centers
1 ½ cups unbleached flour
1 t each of baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and vanilla
1 ½ cups peeled diced apples
½ cup chopped pecans
1/4 t ground cloves
1 large egg
1/4 cup canola oil
1 cup buttermilk (or 1/4 t vinegar and milk)
1 ½ cup packed light brown sugar
3 ounces cream cheese, cut into ½ inch cubes
Blend together flour, soda, apples, pecans , salt and spices
In a medium bowl, beat egg until foamy.
Then beat in milk, sugar, oil and vanilla
Combine wet and dry ingredients until dry ingredients are just moistened
Fill muffin (greased or with baking cups) cups ½ full.
Place one cube of cream cheese in center of each muffin, and fill to 3/4 full
Bake 20-25 minutes at 375 degrees
May be served warm or cooled. Yummy with apple butter!
Thanks Lu. You done good!

From Shirley's Cottage

2007-10-23T05:59:00.000-05:00

I Am Shirley’s Cell Phone

I am not the first cell phone she has had. The first one was bought used from a co- worker about four years ago for twenty bucks. It was one of those pre-paid ones where you bought your minutes ahead of time. It was fine for awhile, but it didn’t hold a charge very long, and the minutes were expensive.
Then her daughter put her on a family plan and she got a new phone.. It was fine until one beautiful summer day, while enjoying the lake and the pontoon, it took an unwanted swim, floating under the pier. It was retrieved, but deader than a door nail, never to ring again.
The third phone cost full price-no one penny deals. Nothing was going to happen to this phone. She thought she had learned her lesson.
But, one day during a swim class she jumped in, and so did the phone. You never saw her move so fast in her life. She jumped out of the pool, got a towel, and took it apart as fast as she could. Rushing home, she got the blow dryer on that poor little thing.
It took several days to dry out, but it worked again. The battery only held a charge for a few hours, and the screen was a little blurry.
Part of having a cell phone is for safety and security. It you need help, it is as close as your cell. Well, one day she did need help. There was a car accident. No one got hurt, but the tow truck had to be called, as well as the insurance man and the police.
They didn’t get called from her phone. No battery..
After that experience, she got me. I lead a life of luxury. I have insurance. I get put on the night table at night and get plugged in until my light turns blue. I have a special place where I am dry and safe. I don’t get lost or misplaced. (Very often)
I am not one of those fancy phones that do everything but walk the dog. I can text. But I will never get to show my stuff. She doesn’t know how to text. She doesn’t even know how to put phone numbers in my menu. Her granddaughter has to do it.
The other day at work, one of her co-workers was showing off one of those new iphones. Besides being a phone, it can do everything and anything: take pictures, videos, play music, surf the web, and store information.
That’s one reason I know why I’ll be around for a long, long time. It will be a cold day on the lake before she could figure out how to work one of those things. Or even want to..
And by the way, don’t call her. She’ll call you when she can. She’s used up her minutes this month.
It would be nice, though, if I could store her recipes. She can never find what she is looking for. Even on her computer.
Thank goodness for cookbooks with indexes. This a good one for the busy holiday season coming up.
From Paula Deen–Bacon Crisps
you will need:
½ cup Parmesan cheese (fresh, not in the can)
one pound bacon, slices cut in half
one sleeve Waverly Wafers, or other buttery rectangle crackers
Place one teaspoon of the cheese on the cracker and wrap tightly with a strip of the bacon.
(No toothpick needed)
Place crackers on baking sheet and bake 40 minutes at 350 degrees.
Drain on paper towel.
Serve hot or at room temperature
Enjoy!

gonnatake a sentimental journey

2007-10-20T12:05:00.000-05:00

From Shirley's Cottage

Gonna Take A Sentimental Journey
The birthdays have begun. September, October , November, Christmas, and January.
When my kids were growing up, it made me crazy. It was birthday parties all fall and winter. They had their parties, but I’m afraid I didn’t enjoy them. Wish I could do it over..
Back then it was just another stress. I was in my twenties, with four little kids, and trying to figure out what life was all about.
Today, far, far away from my twenties, I am beginning a new decade, still trying to figure out what life is all about. But I have learned a few things on this journey.
One is to enjoy what you can. Even the smallest things. Because maybe that day that’s all there is.
One thing I enjoy is rocking chairs. There is one old one in my living room that was here when my folks bought the cottage. Once in a great while I sit, rock, and remember:
It was 2 am. I was rocking my baby in the rocker my mom had bought for her first grandchild. (It was a nice one. Heavy, high-backed, black lacquer with gold trim.)
There were big windows in our upstairs apartment. I could see her tiny face in the moonlight. She was cradled in the crook of my arm, squirming, waiting to be fed.
I thought to myself. "I will never forget this moment." In fact, I remember thinking she would be an only child, because there could never be another baby so beautiful, so precious.
I was wrong. Two years later, I sat in the same rocker, with her sister. She was smaller, and had a full head of dark hair. She turned out to be the smallest of the four. I held her on my knees. My thumbs were under her tiny arms, my hands holding her back and head. I said to myself, "Don’t ever forget this moment." I knew how fleeting it would be.
Two years later, I sat on the couch and watched our third baby girl being rocked by her big sister. (Who didn’t look very big with her new sister on her lap.) She was the biggest of them all, no hair, and just as precious as her sisters. My third moment to remember.
By the time baby brother came along almost two years later, everyone was rocking- each other, dolls, the dogs.
I will never forget the day we brought him home. I was sitting in the rocker, holding him. We were surrounded by his three little sisters. The look on their faces said, "Who is this stranger among us?’ He was only a stranger for about ten seconds. They have been best friends and buddies ever since.
The rocker is still around, no longer black, and needing an arm repair. It lasted through four grandchildren, too. One of these days it will be fixed-in time to rock the first great-grand child. And to make a new memory.
Birthday time takes me back, remembering just the good times and the fun they had. Nowadays I might just bake a cake or make a meal.
Instead of bending down to hug them as I once did, I stand on my tiptoes, and say, "Happy Birthday. I love you" Just as much as the day they were rocked.
I made a chocolate cake for Deb’s birthday. It was the old stand-by Texas Sheet cake, That is about as good as I get with baking. Wish I could have put candles in my chop suey. I cook better than I bake.
As long as it is chocolate, my family will like it. Here is one I haven’t tried. Maybe you have. My co-worker Dan says it is a favorite with his family. I trust his taste. How easy is this?
Oreos and Oranges
You will need:
2 cups Oreo cookies, smashed
1 small package instant vanilla pudding, made to directions
1 8 ounce tub Cool Whip
1 8 ounce can Mandarin oranges, well-drained
In a 2 quart bowl
Mix pudding and Cool Whip
Stir in cookies and oranges
Refrigerate
Serve when cold
Enjoy.

From Shirley's Cottage

2007-10-13T09:23:00.000-05:00

When I Win the Lottery

It was early on a Sunday morning, twenty years ago. The phone rang, and it was a beauty school student of mine. She was taking her state boards the following day. I thought she was calling because she was nervous and wanted some positive feed-back before heading to Springfield.
Our relationship was more than that of a teacher and student. She considered me a mentor, and kind of a mother that she never had.

She was married (not a good one) had two children, financial woes, and a troubled relationship with her divorced parents because of a traumatic childhood.
"I won the lottery!" she yelled. "" Seven million !" Twenty years ago that was a big one. It was given out over twenty year payments. There was no choice of a lump sum.)
"I called you first. I haven’t even called my dad."

I was stunned. If anyone deserved a break, it was her. Then I thought, of course she would call me. We were very close.

I thought her next sentence was going to be that she was going to share with me. Heck, I would be happy with anything in six figures.

The next sentence never came. She said when she found out she had won, she hoped no one else had those numbers. She didn’t want to share her millions with anyone.
In a matter of minutes here were two people affected by money: One who had millions, and one who didn’t.

She never did go to take her state board exam. We went our separate ways. I heard from her occasionally over the years. Enough to know her life didn’t change much, except materially.

This December is the 20th year, the last lottery check she will receive. Her folks are gone, and she is a grandmother. I don’t know if she invested her money. I hope so.
In today’s lottery, her winnings were just chicken feed. I would take it. You can feed a lot of chickens with seven mil.

I have thought many times about my reaction to that phone call. Happy for her, yes. But selfishly hoping I was on her money list. Not a hope I am proud of.

I have tried to win my own lottery. Sometimes I bought tickets every week, choosing my own numbers and letting the computer choose others. I never spent more than two bucks.
Once in a while I would buy the instant ones, feeling like a winner if I won a dollar. The most I ever "won" was ten dollars. How many tickets did I buy for that ten bucks?
For several years I didn’t buy any. We still kept saying, "When I win the lottery I am going to–". I’ve always said I am going to give most of it away. Just in case, be nice to me.

Supposedly it is all about thinking positively. Positive thinking has been around for a "million" years. Dr. Norman Vincent Peale became famous with his book, The Power of Positive Thinking." A new best-selling book along the same lines is a book called The Secret. Those authors made their millions by telling us to think positive.
The secret is to buy your ticket with your dollar, a smile, and a positive thought. It hasn’t worked so far, but I’ll keep trying. Smiling is better than frowning, no matter how rich you are.

I do have a few million dollar recipes. This one is a blue ribbon winner from Weight Watchers. Don’t tell and know one will know it is from WW. Just in time for those good apples from the orchard.

Apple Dumplings
you will need:
six sprayed muffins cups
2T firmly packed light brown sugar
1 ½ t cinnamon
1 t cornstarch
1 t real vanilla
6 McIntosh apples, peeled and cored
(can use Granny Smith for more tartness)
6 square egg roll wrappers
Combine all ingredients except apples
add apples. Toss to coat
Place one apple in center of each egg roll
Bring corners to top of apple and seal and fold the edges
Stand each dumpling in muffins cup and spray top with cooking spray
Bake at 375 about 20 minutes until golden
Serve warm with cool whip or ice cream
Enjoy without guilt!
Three points without ice cream.

2007-10-04T11:39:00.000-05:00

1,302 miles-but who’s counting
I am pretty much of a homebody by choice. The only times I ventured to travel was to visit my daughter and family in their moves.
This past week was different. I drove over a thousand miles for different reasons. Usually I would dread the thought. But I must say most of those miles were enjoyable.
Half of the miles traveled were for work. One trip was with my granddaughter, Jade, who was my work partner during the summer. Now that she is back in college, she can only work with me occasionally. I miss her. To me, those miles traveled are not to audit a store. They are miles to get caught up on what is going on in her life, and to have lunch at Cousin’s in Beaver Dam. .(I try not to talk too much or ask too many questions. Sometimes I succeed.)
Three hundred of my work miles were in one day, auditing stores, traveling alone. Stoughton was the first stop. Then McFarland on the way to the east and west sides of Madison. I found DeForest past the airport. I didn’t realize it was just a hop and skip to Sun Prairie.
From there I went to Columbus. I asked the best way to get to Watertown. The manager of the store directed me back to highway 19 and said I would go through Waterloo and then Watertown. I did get to Watertown, but missed Waterloo somewhere along the way.
I was in familiar territory then and breezed to Fort Atkinson, and finally home. I don’t read maps. I was pretty proud of myself. Besides losing Waterloo, I was right on and did not get lost.
Going through all those small towns at 25 mph could have been irritating. But I was not in a hurry and decided to enjoy the first day of fall and the scenery. (Keeping my eye on the road, of course.)
Going do slowly, I was able to see the personality of the towns. Every town had old homes, most of them lovely and well-kept. There are so many things close to home that I didn’t know were there,
I didn’t know Marshall had an amusement park, or Watertown had an octagon house, or a Baptist College in the countryside. Or–the best ice cream I have had in years. You have to have a treat when you are on the road.
The other half of my travel miles were to Minneapolis to see my grandson play football for his Junior Tackle League. Kelly, Doug and Sam, are settled in Minnesota after so many moves.
It ended up being a family reunion of sorts, as Ted and Tracy were able to come with me. The only damper was Deb and Jade could not make the trip this time.
I did the driving. It is a straight shot to Minnesota. No fear of getting lost. It is interstate all the way, yet plenty of scenery. Beautiful. The leaves are starting to turn. If you looked hard, you could imagine the Indians standing on the old rock formations by Camp Douglas. Awesome.
I love Wisconsin. I left Illinois without regret to move to the cottage. But if there was no Wisconsin, I would opt for Minnesota.
The air is full of the fresh smell of the ten thousand lakes, it looks like Wisconsin, and I get to see Sam play football.
Whether I travel fifty or five hundred miles, I am always happy to get home. When all is said and done, all I need is the lake, and my family.
There is nothing I saw that Cambridge and the lake do not offer. From a quilt show to a horse pull, to a movie in the park, it’s right here at home. The octagon house has nothing over the old Cambridge schoolhouse. And for me, only three miles away.
The best time to travel, I think, is in the fall. It is also the best time for soups, stews, and chilies. Get ready for a lot of soup recipes.
This week-end after all the traveling, nothing would do but pot of soup. I ended up making my own concoction and using a little from each. I guess I’ll call it
Shirley’s Soup
you will need:
2 quarts chicken broth*
(Make broth. Cook one whole breast with skin and bones. Drain broth and add 3-4 T of soup base. Remove skin and bone and cube chicken.)
2 cups cooked chicken, cubed
Peel and dice the following veggies:
1 sweet potato, one half squash, (I used butternut ) 2 white potatoes, one small onion one celery stalk 2 cloves garlic
salt and pepper to taste
hot sauce, optional
Simmer all veggies in broth, about 15 minutes, not cooking too long. You don’t want mush.
Add the chicken
Serve with hot sauce and biscuits Enjoy.
*You can use canned broth and skinned chicken breast. Then cube the breast raw and add to the soup.

HI ALL, LOVE YA

2007-09-24T13:22:00.001-05:00

Where is my push-push?
When we first got a television, my kid sister was our remote. She would have to go turn the TV up or down, on or off, and change the two channels we had. It was up to her to see which one was less snowy, and that was the channel we watched.
Then–with our new Zenith, we got a channel changer. If it was called a remote, we didn’t know it. I still call the thing a channel changer.
My sister was retired from her unwanted job by a 2 ½ by 5 gray electronic with four buttons: on-off, volume up-down, and arrow up, arrow down channel.
The only thing about my sister was, we hardly ever lost her. The channel changer is another story.
I can hear my dad now: "Where is my push-push?" We were kids and that would get us running to see who found it first.
You can imagine most of the time it was in the cushion of the chair, under the foot stool, or in some out-of-the-way spot where someone would say. "I wonder how it got there?"
After it became standard equipment, and got misplaced numerous times. it never occurred to anyone to walk right up to the TV and "push-push" the buttons. We get very easily modern and lazy.
The other day I misplaced my remote. I guess I said it to the dog, who couldn’t help, "Now where the heck is that channel changer?"
I did think about going up to the TV and pushing buttons. I have done that before, and my son had to reprogram the whole darn thing.
The new remote has 38 buttons with colors, including green, red, purple and gray. Give me a break. I need a page of directions.
I’m sure my search won’t be the last I lose it.. Usually it is in the cushions, or under the chair. Sometimes it is on the counter-top next to the phone, which is black, and about the same size. I have been know to grab the phone and try to change the channel. Doesn’t work. I am hopeful for myself., though. I have not tried to answer the remote. Yet.
When I lose this little gem, it is usually on mute so I can’t watch what is on. I tell myself now is the time to break the Matlock and Murder, She Wrote (some things never change) addiction.
Instead, I go to the other TV, grab the other 38 button wonder, and push-push to my heart’s content.
I can watch from the kitchen. That’s why so often that darn thing is behind something on the counter-top. Eventually found, with the cooking channel on, I try to find a recipe I can try first before I tell you it is easy and good.
I like Paula Deen, but sometimes she gets on my last nerve. It seems the more famous she gets, the more Southern she talks. But she is an excellent cook, her recipes are super, and she loves butter as much as I do.
Orange Brownies
from Cooking With Paula Deen, July/August,2006
you will need for the brownies:
1 ½ cups flour
1 t salt
1 cup (2 sticks) softened real BUTTER
4 large eggs
2 t pure orange extract
1 t grated orange zest
Glaze:
1 cup confectioner’s sugar
2 T orange juice
1 t grated orange zest
Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.
Grease a 13 x 9 pan
stir together all brownie ingredients
Beat until well blended
Pour batter into pan and bake 30 minutes or until light brown
Remove from oven and pierce entire cake with a fork.
Mix glaze ingredients together and pour over warm cake
Cool and cut into squares
Enjoy.

HI ALL, LOVE YA

2007-09-24T13:22:00.000-05:00

Gram's Orange Spaghetti

2007-09-17T18:22:00.000-05:00

Gram’s orange spaghetti

My mom’s orange spaghetti has become such a tradition that it has taken on a personality of its own.
The spaghetti dish started during the depression in the 30's. Times were tough. Jobs were scarce. My dad worked for the WPA, a government work program.
You couldn’t really ruin the meal. Before payday, there was more pasta and tomatoes than cheese and hamburger. On payday, there was plenty of meat, mushrooms, and enough cheese to make it orange.
.
Fast forward to the late 40's. My folks had a tavern in Pecatonica. (Illinois, that is) My bigger than life dad decided to have a picnic at the Winnebago County fairgrounds and invite the whole town. He had posters made and hired a little carnival. My mom made orange spaghetti.
I don’t know how much she made, but I remember her cooking the spaghetti in big copper tubs at the fairgrounds kitchen. She mixed the sauce in white enanmal baby bathtubs. To go with it she made the best cole slaw you ever had. She had scraped knuckles from grating head after head of cabbage.
To this day, I don’t know how she did it. All I know it was a hit. Of course my dad took most of the credit for his "Family Picnic" being such a success. But behind every successful man and his picnic is a great woman who is willing to make tubs of orange spaghetti. And cole slaw.
I am not my mother. I wold never attempt to feed a whole village. But I have made my share.
Last week-end we had my grandson Teddy’s belated 21st birthday. I made the traditional OS, cabbage salad, (not like my mom’s), and Texas Sheet Cake.
Granddaughter Paige reminded me I had made a roaster full for her high school graduation. "How much have you made at a time," she asked. I told her I suppose it was for her graduation or for Christmas in July with my sister’s family.
"I was just wondering," she said. Someday when I get married, would you make it for my reception? I want a small wedding. About one hundred people.
ONE HUNDRED? My first thought was what a compliment to me and Gram for her to ask. My second thought was, "Does anyone know where I can get copper tubs and baby bathtubs?"
If anyone wants my mom’s foolproof recipe for her orange spaghetti, please call me or drop me a line at sherwinshirley@yahoomail.com. I have used it several times and don’t want to wear out its welcome.
The cole slaw cannot be given in a recipe. With Gram gone, the only one that can make it is Deb. She says Gram is looking over her shoulder when she makes it, telling her to add a pinch more of this or that.
My faux cole slaw is the old stand-by:
Oriental Slaw
you will need:
one 16 oz package slaw mix
2 oz slivered almonds, toasted
2 green onions, sliced with greens
one package Oriental Ramen Noodles, broken up
Dressing:
oriental packet from the noodles
1/4 cup vinegar
4 T water
½ cup olive oil
salt, pepper and sugar to taste.
Mix all ingredient for slaw except almonds
Mix dressing and toss into slaw
Before serving, toss in almonds
Refrigerate for several hours before serving
Enjoy.

from Shirley's cottage

2007-09-10T20:12:00.000-05:00

"I’m jealous–I want what you have."

The comment was said at a meeting I attended a few months ago. I can’t seem let it go. Those words are in the back of my mind like an itch I can’t quite scratch.
Maybe it is because I didn’t answer. It probably was a good thing at the time I kept my mouth shut. For once.
I take a little poetic license with the circumstances. It doesn’t matter where, when, or who. It is the words that matter and what they meant.
Let’s say this was a meeting of a new book club that had formed. The members were as different as the books that were chosen to be read, digested, and discussed. We went from old to young, Some were merely acquaintances, others came together as friends. There were several who were new and did not know anyone.
I don’t remember what the conversation was about. What sticks in my mind is what one of them said: "I’m jealous-I want what you have."
I just sat there and looked at her. I don’t know what anyone else thought, if anything. There was no comment. It was like no one had said anything, and we went on to review the book.
On the way home, I kept thinking about what she said. Maybe others had things she wanted, but what in the world could I have that she wanted, let alone be jealous of.
If I were her, I would be careful what I said. You’ve heard of that old saying, "be careful what you wish for." (Or are jealous for.) You might just get it.
Let me figure this out. I have about thirty years on her. I can’t imagine anyone wanting thirty more birthdays..
I do have a new knee, but the old one ain’t worth a darn. And they come in pairs. You can’t have one without the other.
She may want my achin’ back. It would help her keep awake to watch late night television.
No one in their right mind would want my checkbook, bills for that darn knee, or my car with miles into six figures.
What she wants may not be anything material at all. Would she want to have my disposition, sunny at all times. What about my organizational skills? How about my common sense, and focus?

All jokes aside, my family is the only treasure I have or want. They are : beautiful, loving, close, and bonded. What I would say to anyone wanting what I have, is: Work on having your own.
This family did not come about without sacrifice, hard work, and a whole lot of love. But, it is worth it. When you have it, you will never have to say to anyone, "I want what you have.. You will have it all yourself, my friend.
On second thought, I do have something someone else might want–good recipes. They are yours for the taking.
Crab Supper Pie, from the old favorite,
Ladies Harmony Singing Society Cookbook
you will need:
1 cup shredded Swiss cheese
1 9 inch pie shell, unbaked
1 can drained and flaked real crabmeat
2 green onions, sliced with the tops
3 beaten eggs
1 cup light cream
½ t lemon zest
½ t dry mustard
½ c slice almonds
Sprinkle cheese over bottom of pie crust
top with crabmeat
sprinkle with green onions
Combine all other ingredients except almonds
pour over pie
top with almonds
Bake at 350 degrees for 34-45 minutes
Let stand for 10 minutes before cutting and serving.
Serve with biscuits and fresh fruit for a great meal.
Enjoy.

from Shirley's cottage

2007-09-04T20:35:00.000-05:00

Summer's end

Summer’s end
It never fails. You wait for something, like summer to come, and before you know it, it’s gone and you wonder what happened.
This year was no different. The difference was Mother Nature decided to blind-side Lady Summer with some crazy weather. It started out kind of chilly. Had we known what the heat and humidity was going to be, we might have welcomed a little summer chill.
When the day after day of heat and high humidity did not end, air conditioning was a lot more comfortable. I only have a window air conditioner, but it is really cools, and fast. I can attest to how good it is by my recent utility bill.
If you could be on or in the water and having summer fun, it was probably fine. But for us grown-ups, a lot of summer "fun" is mowing, weeding, watering the garden, taking out garbage, and other interesting outdoor things.
I like to go to the flea market at the speedway. And farmer’s markets; Deerfield, Lake Mills, and any others I see along my work route. I avoid them all in the heat..
I dislike real hot and humid weather intensely. I come by it naturally. I think it started the day I was born. My mom said (a million times) it was so hot the July day I was born (a million years ago) that an egg was fried on the sidewalk outside the old St. Anthony’s Hospital.
Air conditioning has spoiled me. We went a lot of years without air conditioning. Now, I’m so spoiled I don’t want to break a sweat.
When we got a little relief from the heat, the floods came. It didn’t rain for forty days and forty nights, but it sure seemed like it.
I don’t pay much attention to the weather man. My husband was a weather junkie. And so is my son. I finally did pay attention when my rowboat sunk, the pier was under water, and you had to step up three feet to get on the pontoon.
Not to mention sloshing through the flooded yards.
I don’t know about you, but it made for a very quiet summer’s end. The lake is brown, things that shouldn’t be floating are, and things that should be floating are sunk.
The no-wake made for the most quiet Labor Day in memory. But even in adversity, some people are happy.
I did go down to the pier with my coffee, and climbed up onto the pontoon. Fishing boats dotted the scene as the sun came out. These were the happy ones. Happy fishing, guys and gals. No wake, all day long.
Labor Day we had planned a belated birthday for my grandson. Teddy was 21 in August.
A 21st birthday should be special.
We decided to postpone it until this week-end, in hopes the lake would be back to normal. I’m not even going to watch the weather report. We are extending the summer.
For three weeks I have been planning to make my mom’s orange spaghetti and Texas Sheet Cake. Maybe this week-end it will happen.
The salad is always either tossed or seven-layer salad, both very good. But I wanted to try something different. I went looking and came up with this one. A while back, a co-worker asked me to repeat this one. Now is a good time.
Corn, Avocado and Tomato Salad from Paula Deen and Friends
you will need:
2 cups corn on the cob, cut off, or 16oz frozen corn
1 avocado, diced into ½ inch pieces
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
½ cup red onion, finely diced
Dressing:
2 T olive oil
1 T fresh lime juice
½ t lime zest
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1/4 t salt
1/8 t pepper
Combine corn, avocado, and tomatoes in a large glass bowl
Whisk dressing, and toss into salad
Enjoy

Piece on neighbor Marge's 90th Birthday

2007-09-04T20:28:00.000-05:00

Kelly--thought you might like this since you don't get the paper since you moved.

It was a good idea to interview Marge Gaulke. She has been a Lake Ripley resident for over fifty years, and she would be ninety on Labor Day.
It wasn’t as easy as it sounds to get that interview.. The invitation of lunch and the interview was turned down because she just didn’t have the time
Two weeks after the first attempt, the second invitation of lunch and the interview was turned down again.
She couldn’t go to lunch the next day because "Our bridge group is going to lunch at Tru’s, and I have to pick up one of the girls. She is 100 and doesn’t drive anymore." (She still plays bridge, though) Wow.
I asked if I could ask her a few questions right then. She reluctantly agreed. "I don’t want to say no to you because you are such a good neighbor. But what could you say about me that anyone would be interested
There is a lot to say about this busy lady.
She visits friends regularly. Janesville is her home town, and she still has friends there.
She doesn’t forget old friends who have moved to assisted living or nursing homes.
Two days a week she volunteers at the Cambridge Library.
An avid bridge player, she has "slowed down" to just twice a week. She tells the story that over fifty years ago, when she first learned, she and her friends took a lesson at the Y. They then went to play at the Country Club in Janesville thinking they knew the game. They discovered very quick they had a lot to learn. She said it is a good game, and you never quit learning, even after all these years.
Marge has also been an avid golfer for many years. A member of the Country Club in Cambridge, she has a few trophies, and winning scores playing on the course. But it was the pleasure of the game that kept her swinging her clubs. She said this year is the first year that she has not played. "I thought it was time to put the clubs away," she said.
But she still does her walking. "I used to walk every night. But then after the winter, I just can’t get going again. Lately I have only been walking three or four times a week."
Bridge twice a week, Library twice a week, visiting friends. Golf up until now. And she ONLY walks four times a week, Poor Marge. She must be slipping;
. When she is found at home, you might see her tending to her flowers, or sitting on her front steps, the lake in front of her. She is probably writing a letter. Her son wants her to get a computer. She says she does just fine without one. And, it is the lucky person who gets a personal, hand-written letter, so scarce nowadays.
. Every Sunday morning, rain or shine, you can see her back her spotless 1990 blue Cadillac out of her garage and head to Fort to church.
If it is not Sunday, she might be shopping or heading to the airport where her son Jim is beginning or ending his visits from his home in Oklahoma.
Marge Schmitt’s life began in Janesville where she was born on September 3, 1917. She grew up and went all through school in Janesville. It was there that she and high school sweetheart Herman Gaulke married in 1956. They had three children: John, Jim, and Mary.
Marge, Herman, and family became summer residents of Lake Ripley in 1956. Herman would drive back and forth to work in Janesville in the summer.
When Herman retired, they moved to the lake. They wintered in Florida where they had a condo. After Herman’s death in 1993, she stopped going to Florida, saying this is her home and she had no desire to leave.. She says she has good neighbors and friends here and this is where is where she want to be.
Marge’s 90 years have been blessed with good health, good neighbors, and good friends
She has her family, son Jim who lives in Oklahoma, and daughter Mary who lives in Florida. She also has six grand-children and 5 great-grandchildren.
Everything has not been all peaches and cream for Marge in her 90 years. "We all have our share of sadness and problems," she said.
Her biggest sadness is losing family. Her husband not too long after they had celebrated their fiftieth anniversary. Son John died in 2001, and she lost one of her grand-daughters three years ago.
"You get through it," she said.
When Marge asked what can be said that people would care about? Plenty. That was apparent during her surprise birthday party, hosted by her good neighbors, Bill and Betty Reay. Even Marge’s daughter, Mary, was able to come from Florida for her surprise.
Everyone in attendance had a little something to say about what a treasure she is .
Marge is a mom, grandma, neighbor, volunteer, and friend. Put simply, she is a very nice person. You don’t get much better than that.
Happy Birthday, Marge.

never too old

2007-08-30T12:50:00.000-05:00

Never Too Old
The other day I was standing looking out my kitchen window and saw something I hadn’t seen in a long time: the sunshine I walked right down to the pier and watched the sun come up over the lake. It was a beautiful sight.
It seems like the older I get, the more I wear my emotions on my sleeve. I stood there wondering how many more sunrises would I see like this–even this reminding me of how old I am getting.
I walked gingerly back to the cottage, slushing through the mud and gigantic puddles the rains had left. In a younger day, I would have walked briskly up the hill. Today, it was a bit of a chore.
I went back to my kitchen window. For sitting under the window was my sink. And sitting in the sink were dishes-never ending dishes that had to be washed.
I got myself in a snit. I didn’t want to be doing dishes. I wanted to take a walk-something I had promised myself I would do every day after my new knee got working. But, I always had an excuse to put it off. Today it was my achin’ back. It was hell to get old.
My hands were full of suds and the phone rang. Fine. I would never get these darn dishes done.
"Is this Shirley that writes the recipes?"
"Yes, it’s me," I said. I am glad I did not sound the way I felt at the moment.
" I have your mother’s chocolate cherry cake recipe in front of me. I am ready to make it and you don’t have how long it is supposed to be in the oven."
I told her my mom’s recipe did not have a time on it. The cake is very moist and needs to be checked. In fact, I had made it Sunday and the middle did not get all the way done.
But, we decided on 25-35 minutes.
We went on to have a pleasant conversation-one that changed my day, and my attitude.
She said she was old, but still liked to bake. She kept herself busy quilting, and sewing, and enjoying life.
I said, "I’m old, too." and told her my age.
She said, "I’ve got you beat. I’m 93!"
At that moment I was really ashamed of myself. My boo-hoo attitude, my thoughts, even the way I was leaning over the sink doing the dreaded dishes made me older than she.
She said she reads my column every week. I would give her name, but do not without permission. I just want to say to her, "Thank you. Thanks for bringing this "youngster" up by her bootstraps. It was a pleasure to talk to you. You make 90 the new 70. And-I hope your cake turned out.
That happened over the week-end. The sun has gone into hiding again. But I still feel pretty good. I figure I have twenty-three more years to get the pep and attitude of a lady that called me on the phone.
This recipe will be sure to have the time given. It was in the News December 6, 2006. I made a few changes. It is a recipe for biscotti. I love biscotti, but it takes longer and is just a little more work than I want to do. So I make scones They’ve become a breakfast favorite.
Cranberry Scones from a Biscotti Recipe
you will need;
One 15.6 oz pkg Pillsbury Cranberry-Orange Quick Bread Mix
1 stick plus 2 T melted butter
2 eggs, slightly beaten
½ cup white vanilla chips
2-5 T flour
Combine quick bread mix, butter and eggs
Stir until just moistened (add @ 2T flour
Mix and stir in vanilla chips
Sprinkle work surface with flour
Separate dough into two balls
Place each one on cookie sheet (I discovered parchment paper and love it. It browns the bottom just right.)
Press each ball down until they are less than one inch thick
Bake at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes until edges are browned
You don’t even have to cool. Cut with a knife dipped in water, making 8 triangles for each.
Enjoy
They freeze very well.
P.S. I tried Chocolate chip quick bread mix, and added the vanilla chips. Kind of like a triangle chocolate chip cookie.

from shirley's cottage

2007-08-20T22:59:00.000-05:00

p.s.
It was Kelly who went to work at 15, and rushed down into her bedroom with rustling bags.
I hate to shop
I don’t know when it started. I just don’t remember a time where I really liked to shop. When I was growing up, there were no shopping malls.
There was a downtown, and a Broadway. Monday was the only night the stores were open..
My best friend and I would walk the few blocks to Broadway, and catch the bus downtown, getting off in front of Weise’s. (Later to become Bergner’s).
Writing this, I had to call my sister and ask her if she remembered the name of the confectionery we used to frequent.
"I went downtown every Monday night for years," she said. But she couldn’t come up with the name. Finally, the light went on and we came up with, Stuckey’s (pronounce Stookey’s) and no relation to the Stuckey’s of more recent fame.
They made their own candy. Every Monday night, the whole gang would troupe into Stuckey’s, lay down our fifty cents, grab a delicious pecan praline, and go outside and wait for our bus home.
. I don’t remember buying things, or coming home with packages. Just sticky fingers from my praline.
I always thought I didn’t like to shop because I was never a lightweight. We couldn’t wear jeans or pants to school, so my mom would sew. She could look at a dress or skirt and blouse, and with or without a pattern, she could make it.
That couldn’t be the reason, though. I could have shopped for shoes or jewelry, or lots of things. I had no interest., I just did not shop. I do not have the shopping gene. Other than that idiosyncracy, I think I was a somewhat normal teenager of the times.
Fast forward to when I was about to get married. Besides my wedding dress, we had to shop for the groom, wedding party, and the parents. Then were the flowers, food, invitations, hall, and church. It’s a wonder I survived the ordeal. It did me in.
I had had enough shopping for a lifetime. Little did I know I was just beginning.
I had four kids to clothe for school. To save my sanity, they went parochial school. Thank God for uniforms.
Christmas shopping brought sweat to my brow and tears to my eyes. Kids want everything they see on TV. Mine learned very quick that if it wasn’t in the Penney’s catalog, it would not be under the tree. Sorry Santa.

The gene missed me and skipped a generation. I hope I didn’t have something to do with my kids’ LOVE of shopping, but I think I did..
They all went to work as soon as they could. (One lied about her age and started working at 15) They couldn’t wait to shop, buy, and hide. How many times did I hear bags rustle as they hurried into their bedroom, only to say to me days later:: "Oh, Mom, I’ve had this for a long time."
The boy was and still is the smart one. He goes with a sister or two. They love to shop for him, too.
It makes me sad in a way that I did not have that shopping bond with my kids. I missed a lot of good and fun times. I still do.
At least I made somebody happy. For over thirty seven years, my husband never complained about my disorder.
I have to do some shopping. You can’t get groceries from Penney’s catalog. I stay away from the huge stores and try to stay small, and stay focused.
Yes, I make a list. Sometimes I even take it with me. Makes no difference. I’m always forgetting something.
This is the kind of shopping trip I love. I bought the following items for this recipe, a repeat from a year or so ago.
Cherry Chocolate Cake, one of my mom’s simple favorites.
You will need:
one box chocolate cake mix, any kind
one can cherry pie filling
three eggs
mix all together
bake at 350 in 9x13 pan until done (will be moist)
serve with ice cream, whipped cream or both
enjoy.

2007-08-16T06:40:00.000-05:00

elvis

If there is anything that brings me back to my youth, it is Elvis. We learned to dance, jitterbug to his rock and roll, slow dance to his "slow" songs.. My boyfriend even had blue suede shoes.
When Ed Sullivan had Elvis on his Sunday night show, they wouldn’t show him from the waist down. My, how times have changed!
In fact my dad ranted that he would not allow him to be seen on our TV. My sister and I could not watch the program. He ended up relenting. We sat on the floor, glued close to the black and white screen. I remember the feeling. Happy.
The month of August Tvland is honoring Elvis. It has been thirty years since his death. They are showing his movies, having specials about his life, and showing some of his concerts.
My son called and said how he remembered when they were kids, all of us watching him on TV. And the only records I played while working around the house, were Elvis’.
If you are an Elvis fan, you know what I mean. If you are not, I am sorry. You missed some good times. We ended up with four generations that were Elvis fans to some degree or other.
.
I regret that I never got to see him in concert. There was one time at the last minute we were offered free tickets to his New Year’s Eve concert in Detroit. I was so mad at my husband (him of the blue suede shoes). He wouldn’t go. All we had to do was rent a plane, fly to Detroit, rent a car or take a cab, and be there on time. I still don’t know why he said no.
We didn’t get to see him in concert, but when Ted lived in New Orleans, Deb and I drove down and we toured Graceland. That would be a whole other column.
We always felt some connection because his mom was Lithuanian. Which of course, made him Lithuanian, too.
Wisconsin also has a connection.. Several weeks before his death, he performed in Madison. He was not at his best, heavy and sicker than anyone knew. But he still had that voice and emotion. ,
It is sad that he died the way he did. Sadder yet, that his money, fame, and the love of his family and fans could not make him happy.
Happy like watching Ed Sullivan on an old black and white TV. Happy like watching TVland fifty years later.

The food that he liked was hearty. His mom fed him well with Southern cooking. And ethnic; lots of potatoes, bacon and bread.
Several years ago my daughter, Kelly, gave me a cookbook, Are You Hungry Tonight? Elvis’ favorite recipes.
I had forgotten what a treasure that book is. Lots of good recipes, pictures, and stories. I gave this one several years ago. This August, I have to give it again.
Elvis’ Favorite Sandwich
for each sandwich you will need:
2 slices white bread
2 T smooth peanut butter
1 small banana, mashed
butter or margarine
3-4 slices crispy fried bacon, (optional)
Spread peanut butter on one slice of bread
spread mashed banana on the other
Grill sandwich until golden brown
add bacon after grilling (bacon is what makes it so good)
Sit back with a glass of real milk, don’t count fat or calories
Listen to the music. And enjoy..

70 and holding

2007-08-06T18:12:00.000-05:00

The New Fifty

Last month my son-in-law, Doug, called me from Minnesota to wish me a happy birthday.
"Thanks, but don’t remind me."
"Don’t you know that seventy is the new fifty?", he said.
I came back with, "Yes, and eighty is supposed to be the new sixty, " He is such a great guy and the best son- in-law there is, so I didn’t argue or pursue the subject.
But when I hung up, I said to the dial tone, "Yeah, sweetheart, please tell that to my body".
No matter what the real age. There are times when I feel like a child and I miss and need my mom. The teenager in me still thinks I am invincible.
But, the body and the mirror don’t lie. Recently I caught a glimpse of myself as I was walking by the mirror. I said out loud, "Hi Mom" It’s true. Eventually we become our mother.
My mind and memory depends on the day. There are days when I am sharper than a tack. I can remember my first day of kindergarten. I even remember what happened yesterday, which is harder to do.
When I am driving down the lake road, there are days I even know where I am going and what I’m going for.
Then there are times when I open the refrigerator door, stand there with a blank stare, and wonder what the heck I was looking for. Turns out it is never in the fridge.
I know this happens to young people, too. It’s just when you have a few years on the calendar, you worry.
I know in my heart I an not a child or a teenager. I even missed being a baby boomer.
It is very easy to be in denial. But the reality is, it is tough to come to grips with aging. For one thing, people have a preconceived opinion of gray hairs. At least I did until I got some gray hairs myself.
I don’t know why, this last birthday was a wake-up call for me. Maybe it was because I was in shock. It didn’t take long to get to this decade.
But, if I only have 40 or 50 years left on this earth (or just one more day), I don’t want to spend it being an old biddy.
I borrow a thought from my daughter who does not want to surround herself with pessimism. Neither do I. I want my wine glass half full, not half empty.
So, even though I no longer have pearly whites, I’ll keep smilin’. If I wobble a little now and then, I’ll keep walkin’
I’ll try and remember your name, and show up for all my appointments.
Not today, but someday I may be a Red Hat. (With purple flowers on the brim)
Last but not least–I will stand tall and not lean over the cart when buying groceries.
In keeping with the old subject of the day, I have an old recipe to share with you. It’s not really a recipe, but a concoction my mom would put together during the depression. My sister and I were kids. It was one of our favorites.
She used her old soup kettle. She made it and served it in that old kettle, and we would dig in!
Gram’s Salad in a Kettle
you will need:
a little imagination
a kettle
a nice head of lettuce (no brown spots)
what ever leftover meat you have
(Monday was a good day with leftover beef or pork roast or chicken from Sunday dinner.)
Any leftover vegetables-fresh ones, too.
(Tomatoes, green onions, corn, celery, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli and always peas. ( I hated peas, and still do.)
Mix all together in the kettle.
Add dressing: Mix together
Miracle Whip (about two cups)
Sour cream to taste, about one cup
a little of vinegar, sugar, and milk.
salt and pepper to taste
Toss dressing into salad.
Sounds simple. It is. Enjoy.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BILL IN TENNESSEE

2007-08-04T12:10:00.000-05:00

Lake Ripley Revisited

Well, it’s here again. It’s hard to believe the summer is almost gone, and a whole year has passed since the last Cambridge News’ annual Lake Ripley edition.
I don’t know what I can say about the lake that I haven’t already said. So I’ll say it again.
It seems like only yesterday that,
my dad saw a little ad in our local paper-cottage for sale. We piled everyone into the station wagon. He walked down to the lake, gave the Realtor a hard time, and bought the cottage without even going in.
every Saturday we would pack up the car. As soon as Ted, Sr. would come from work, we were off north. About 4 a.m. Monday mornings we would yawn and head back to work and home. Funny, though. As we were leaving the cottage, we felt like we were leaving home instead of going home.
Ted Sr. always drove ten mph down the road, just to "look at the lake."
the kids learned to water-ski. One of the girl’s boyfriend skied on ping-pong paddles. Ted, Jr. would ski on his elbows and knees, among other things.
we might spend most of the night on the pontoon, just watching the stars and moon.
we had our first bonfire which became a tradition.
I quit my job, packed up my mother, and moved to the lake.
It has been several years, but it seems like only yesterday that I was sitting on Roger Kelly’s boat, and he told me the real story of the Lake Ripley Monster.
The good part of these memories is so much of it is still a part of us. The other day Deb’s best girlfriend , Pat, came for her yearly summer visit. Lying on a float in the water she said, "This is the life." We’ve heard it a lot over the years. We’ve said it a lot.
Today I like to do things that are not so strenuous. One of my favorite things is to walk down to the lake very early in the morning, and sit on the pontoon, with only the birds and fish for company. I don’t make very good coffee, but that morning cup tastes mighty good.
The lake is there for whatever you want it to be. I like to putz around the shoreline. I never tire of the scenery, and the lovely homes. Then there are the times when, as my daughter says," the need for speed" has to be satisfied. Safely, of course.

A day trip is to Lake Ripley Park is a treat, especially for the kids, with its nice sandy beach and good swimming.
Summer is the busy time. But all the seasons have their perks on the lake.
In the winter when the lake freezes, the ice shacks are hauled out, sometimes too soon. Hockey rinks are smoothed out from under any snow. Snowmobiles and ATV’s can be heard roaring across the ice.
Year round you can enjoy the lake without going near the water. Walk, ride, cycle, skate drive, the lake road and just look at the lake. You’ll love it.
What doesn’t change is my worry about what there is to eat when everyone comes up from the lake. Nowadays, they take care of themselves. But, occasionally the mom in me has to make something. I like to have it made ahead of time. Casseroles and one dish meals are my favorite.
This is one (you have to like sauerkraut) my daughter makes much better than I do. I don’t know why. She must have a secret.
Deb’s Pork chops and sauerkraut.
You will need:
5 or 6 pork chops
½ stick melted butter
one large and one small can Frank’s Kraut, rinsed
one Granny Smith apple, diced very thin
one medium onion, diced
2-3 bay leaves
brown sugar
one cup bouillon
brown pork chops
layer in baking pan
cover with kraut
layer onion on top
mix apple and bay leaves with melted butter and layer on top
top with brown sugar to taste
cover and bake at 350 for one hour, uncovering the last 15 minutes
Serve with smashed potatoes. Enjoy.

Kelly, be my guest (columnist, that is)

2007-07-24T11:39:00.000-05:00

Talent and beauty
You can't beat that in one soul

from Shirley's cottage
A guest columnist

I confess. I had a birthday this week that brought me into a new decade. My daughter Kelly has a blog and wrote about her mom. I thought, "I can be lazy this week and use it for my column. (For those that don’t know what a blog is, I don’t know, eitther. You just get online and write, sharing whatever.)
What was said about me and my birthday was lovely and tear-jerking. I came across very well. If I would put it here, my readers might say, "That’s not the Shirley from the cottage that I know!"
She is my guest columnist this week. She won’t know it until she reads this. I chose one of her other entries from when she was here. She and family now call Minnesota home, but part of her heart is always at the lake.
Thanks, Kelly. I couldn’t have said it better.

It’s Traditional

It’s rare we are all at the Lake together. It only happens about once a year. When we are together, we like to have our traditional bonfire. This can go on into the wee hours of the morning.
To go along with the fire, we sing a few corny songs. We share memories of when my dad and my grandma were still here. We roast marshmallow, and make s’mores.
The best of all is when my brother gets out his flute. He is self taught on a wooden flute that we bought him for Christmas a few years back. He is really good and likes to entertain us with Indian-like tunes floating through the dark (but starry) Wisconsin sky.

This is my seg-way to include star gazing which is really spectacular in our northern skies.
. This year while Ted was playing his flute, Sam (11 year old grandson) started playing a drum beat on his body. He is really a good drummer. Needles to say, the music these two produced for us that evening was great!
Also included, a little vino, and for the brave of heart, a shot of tequila....It was a night to remember. Thanks for the music. Kelly oxox
And thanks for the column oxox
My contribution today is an easy recipe Kelly can make when she entertains in her new home. My family says, "If it’s chocolate, it has to be good." Good and easy to make.

Rum Chocolate Nuggets
you will need:
1 cup semi-sweet or milk chocolate pieces
½ cup Coke
3 T light corn syrup
1 T rum extract (or the real stuff)
2 ½ cups finely-crushed vanilla wafers (you can buy them already crushed)
1 cup finely chopped walnuts
2 cups powdered sugar
chocolate decorations
Melt chocolate in double boiler, or in micro
Blend in Coke, syrup and rum
Stir in crumbs, sugar, and walnuts
(mixture will be sticky stiff)
Cover and chill for 2 hours or stiff enough to handle
Form into small balls by rolling between palms.
Roll balls in chocolate decorations
Chill overnight
Chocolate lovers–Enjoy!

from shirley's cottage

2007-07-18T06:38:00.000-05:00

There’s no such thing as a free lunch
My granddaughter is excited about starting her second year in college. She was telling me her schedule, and then mentioned her friend was taking math and economics. When she said Econ, I thought of when I had Econ in high school. I imagine it is much different today. I had a no nonsense, teacher, Mr. Palmer.
He always came up with some saying or motto that made you think about the lesson at hand. One of his favorites was, "There’s no such thing as a free lunch." He added, "Yes, boys and girls, in the long run, nothing is free: not even air and water". He would go on to say eventually we paid for everything in one way or another.
He was right. The other day I had a low tire. The air pump was out of order in the first station I tried. The next station had a machine that charged for air. I didn’t have any money with me. After all, I was going for free air. Or so I thought.
Then there is water. For those of us that have to buy water because of so much iron in our wells, I read the average cost is just under $1,000 a year. And if you ever have to have a new well, plan on a second mortgage or using your kids’ college fund. Free water? Of course, some of us have a water bill. Free water?
I admit this is a little tongue in cheek. I don’t expect someone to dig a well for nothing, or give me cases of water.
But, sometimes it is nice to get a little gift or something free–with no strings attached. It is the strings that make you nuts.
For example, in my mail, I received a very lovely envelope with an embossed bird on it. . I could get a free year of Bird and Flower Magazine, just for putting the sticker on the card and sending it back. Oh, yes. The small print said you had to subscribe to two years at twenty bucks a year.
I always liked the one that invites you to a free dinner at a nice hotel.. All you had to do was listen to a pitch about time-sharing condos. (And if you don’t sign up, they charge you for the dinner.)
Mr. Palmer was right. Eventually you pay for everything. My dad used to say, "Everyone has to make a buck." He was right, too.
I really don’t want anything free, anyway. (Except maybe a free lunch now and then.)
This recipe is free, and pretty darn cheap to make. To buy biscotti to have with your coffee or tea is good, but pretty pricy. I have always said I would make my own, but being the procrastinator that I am, I just got around to trying it. It’s somewhat time-consuming. Next time I’ll make two batches and freeze. The good thing is it is a Weight Watchers recipe, and no one will ever know if you don’t tell them. (For you WW’ers, only 3 points)
Biscotti, from Weight Watchers, Simply the Best
you will need:
2 1/4 cups flour
2 t baking powder
½ cup sugar
5 T margarine
2 eggs
1 ½ grated lemon zest
1 t vanilla
1 cup slivered almonds, finely chopped (I omitted nuts and added white chocolate chips)
With electric mixer at high speed, beat all except flour, baking powder and nuts or chips
Gradually add the remainder, until combined. Do not overmix.
Divide dough in half. Moisten hands and shape into two logs, 12 x 1 ½ .
Place on nonstick baking sheet and flatten each with moistened rolling pin to ½ inch.
Bake at 350 for 18 minutes.
On a cutting board, cut each log into 12 diagonal pieces with a serrated knife dipped in water.
Lay cut side down back on baking sheet and bake for 12 minutes.
Cool, and store for one week in air tight container or freeze in foil up to three months.
You’ve worked hard. Put your feet up, pour your brew, and enjoy. You deserve it.

from shirley's cottage

2007-07-11T20:43:00.000-05:00

July Fourth, and so on

The Fourth of July falling on a Wednesday, made the holiday begin and last for two week-ends for a lot of people. .
Good for business, and better yet, for getting together. In my family, it was a great time, with almost the whole family here for several days. Besides myself, we have Deb, Kelly, Tracy, Ted, Jade, Paige, Sam, Teddy and Doug.
When the family arrives, most of the animals arrive, too. For animal lovers, their pets are family, too. We had Sundance, Brando, Dru, Asa, Buckley, and Nookers, the cat. Missing this time were Shorty, Willie, and Nikko.
Something is wrong with the picture when there are more pets than grandchildren visiting Grandma. I will say there were no animal emergencies- except most of them were spooked by the fireworks. Several hid under the bed. Asa, the best behaved of them all, went missing for several hours. The search went on until she finally came back, wet, from an obvious swim, and glad the noise was over.
Enough of the animals. The focus of my Fourth was having the family together. With them scattered and busy, it is even hard to get together at Christmas. Even at Christmas, it is such a whirlwind, and only for a day, it is hard to spend time with them all.
This Fourth was pleasantly different. With several days to visit and relax, there was not the rush to "hurry up and boat, and ski, and picnic, and shop, etc.
I’m at the place now where I just want to sit and watch, remember and observe. In fact, one evening I was sitting on the couch at Deb’s, watching the three sisters and their daughters preparing dinner. They were laughing and bantering back and forth.
"Look at Mom," one of them said. "She’s just sitting over there on the couch like Dad used to do, just looking at us, not saying a word." She was right. I was vicariously enjoying myself, I was loving it
The stories went on. The dinner was delicious. The best part was no one had to rush home. There were a few more days to enjoy.
Their brother didn’t cook, but he entertained us with music while the bonfire he made, burned into the night.
It wasn’t over yet. The neighbor across the bay did his annual fireworks on the week-end. It was their best yet. The lights from the many boats on the lake was almost as beautiful as the fireworks.
The kids will be leaving, one by one, except we who are here, always waiting for the family to be together again.
I would just urge us all to make memories and savor the good times.
One of the memories we were talking about this week was food. Paige loves her Grandma Ruth’s pecan tarts that she only makes at Christmas.
It sounded like a good recipe. So I called her other grandmother, and she was gracious enough to give it to me so I could share it with you.

Grandma Ruth’s Pecan Tarts
you will need:
for the crust:
3 oz cream cheese, softened
½ cup butter
1 cup flour
Blend all ingredients and chill
press balls into small muffins tins
(use moistened fingers)
for the filling:
3/4 cups brown sugar
1 egg
pinch of salt
1 T melted butter
1 t vanilla
2/3 cup chopped pecans
mix all together, pecans last
full cups with filling
bake at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes
watch for doneness
remove from oven-don’t wait. Enjoy

from shirley's cottage

2007-07-03T06:11:00.000-05:00

Smile-You’re on Candid Camera

Remember that television program with Allen Funt? No matter what predicament the unsuspecting person was in, he or she ended up smiling.
We don’t have to be on Candid Camera to exercise a few smile muscles.
I don’t know. It seems I have come across some crab apples lately. I haven’t seen a whole lot of smiling.
There are a few who always look you in the eye and flash a smile: Terry, Abby, Nikki, at the Pig. You can also catch a smile or two early morning at the bakery.
I appreciate the service at my bank, and the care and attention at my doctor’s office. But, lately, they have been in the minority.
For example, the other day I stopped at a store that shall remain nameless. I was in a hurry and only had a few items. The check-out person was talking to several other employees, while I tapped my foot, waiting for attention.
I got no eye contact, not even "have a nice day". She couldn’t wait to get back to her conversation. I admit I left with a scowl instead of a smile.
I saw more scowls than smiles at Wal-mart and Target. In fact, the customer service girl at Target was downright rude. I asked for my package back, and didn’t smile either as I was leaving the store.
I was tired of buying into someone else’s bad mood. I thought to myself that I am going to make an effort to smile and "kill ‘em with kindness". If I don’t get a response, oh, well, I tried.
.
A smile, eye contact, being pleasant, means a lot more than we know. And it doesn’t cost a thing.
For example, I recently visited a friend in the hospital. She was very ill, and depressed. A hefty woman wearing a bright pink smock came into the room. She was smiling with her whole face, especially her eyes. She asked my friend how she was feeling. I got the smile, too, and the offer of a cup of coffee.
She was not a nurse, CNA, or doctor. She was the lady who served the meals. It was the first time that day I saw my friend smile. I was smiling, too. She made a difference.
One of the year-round walkers on the lake road waves and smiles at everyone. It becomes contagions.
Now, I’m not telling you or anyone they have to smile and be pleasant. You don’t have to be kind. Go ahead and be a crab apple if you want.. Just don’t wait on me. I may have to kill you with kindness and a smile.
.
Like the last words of an old song says "Life is still worthwhile, of you-Just Smile.
Try it. You may like it. I do.
If you like beef, the recipe this week should make you smile. Or at least you will after you have a taste of this delicious roast from Spike O’Dell’s recipes on WGN radio.
Coke Roast
you will need:
3 pound chuck roast
salt and pepper to taste
carrots, potatoes, and onions
1 package dry onion soup mix
1 can each cream of mushroom and cream of chicken soup
1 cup water
1 Coke
Salt and pepper roast and sear in frying pan on all sides
put in Dutch oven or slow cooker
add vegetables
Bake at 350 degrees in Dutch oven or in slow cooker
3 ½ to 4 hours (less time in oven)
Enjoy.

Minnesota

2007-06-29T16:27:00.000-05:00

Marvelous Minnesota

Minneapolis, Minnetonka, Mishawa, Minocqua, Manitowash Waters, Minnesota!
In case you haven’t guessed, I took a trip to Minnesota last week-end.
The last time I was in Minnesota was a lot of years ago We would go way up North to Lake Winnebagoshish near the Canadian border.
We’d pack the car with coolers (full of food and drink), fishing gear, warm and cool clothes, and the Scrabble game. No, we didn’t forget the kids..
Most of those years we had a Ford wagon, light blue with the wood on the doors. We left about midnight so the kids would sleep most of the way. They would have their pillows and blankets. "I call the way back," one would say. "I call the back seat," from another. By the time the last one got the floor, we were on our way.
The sun would just be coming up as we went over the bridge that took us from Wisconsin to Minnesota. They were the most beautiful sunrises. We were all together. It was a happy time.
This week-end was a happy time, too, although much different. Grand-daughter Paige and I traveled north to visit her mom, dad, and brother, Sam.
I am not a traveler, but I have visited daughter Kelly and family in their many moves over the years. Those trips have taken me to Indiana, Illinois, Arizona, Idaho, and now Minnesota. May this be their last move until they come to the lake.
Paige has settled in Chicago until she moves lakeside. She picked me up, and we were on our way.
The North Woods eluded us this time. Victoria, Minnesota, was our destination. (One of those little towns around Minneapolis.)
Their home is on a large pond, next to a lake. With over 10,000 lakes in Minnesota, they almost have to live by a lake.
We went on a little tour of nice homes, and lovely lakes. We only have 9,990 yet to see.
It was the kind of relaxing time a gramma enjoys. I read a whole book in one day, sitting on the deck, looking at the pond.
Kelly saw a huge bird dip down into the water and fly by with a big fish in his beak. The frogs were croaking at night. There were birds and fish and ducks, and geese. No people.
Except the ones that mean the most to me. For me, they are the best part of Minnesota.

I told Paige not to blink. Before you know it these days will be over and we will be on our way home. She agreed.
It was true. The time just flew, as it always does. (The older you get, the faster it flies, right?)
I will miss my Minnesota family until the next time. But I was glad to be going south, crossing the bridge, into Wonderful Wisconsin. My home. Where I belong.
During my visit, I did absolutely no cooking. Actually, I did absolutely nothing. I could get used to being so spoiled. It doesn’t last forever. And routine is nice, even if it means dirty dishes.
I admit I haven’t tried this recipe yet. It sounds so good. I don’t see how it can fail. Again, a good one to make ahead, and have ready for company, expected or not.
B.L.T. Rolls
you will need:
four burrito size tortillas
16 slices, crisp crumbled bacon
8 oz vegetable cream cheese, room temperature
2/3 pound Canadian bacon slices, cooked
3 large plum tomatoes, sliced
1 avocado, sliced and dipped in lemon juice
16-20 spinach leaves
spread each tortilla with the cream cheese
put spinach leaves over 2/3 cream cheese, leaving bottom 1/3 with just cream cheese
Top spinach with Canadian bacon, tomatoes, avocado and crumbled bacon. On that order
Beginning with the end with cream cheese only, roll the tortilla into a tight roll.
Cut into 1 inch thick slices for appetizers or in half for meals.
Enjoy! I will this week-end.
P.S. If anyone has a favorite recipe to share, with maybe a comment or two, I would love it. Just send it to the newspaper. Or email, www.cambridgenews@verizon.net

from shirley's cottage

2007-06-19T17:31:00.000-05:00

It’s not easy being green

There was a feature recently in one of the papers titled "Go Green." It was about how our dumps are becoming mountains from our trash. And how one person can make a difference.
The stats were eye-opening. I Can’t quote the numbers, but it told of how many trees it took to make so much paper, and how many years it takes plastic to decompose, if at all.
I am sorry to say I have not thought too much about ecology and saving the earth. I didn’t even have a container the waste company gives you for cans, plastic, and paper.
That day I called the waste management company,. They dropped off my green container, and I was on my way to saving the earth.
It wasn’t as much of a pain as I thought to separate the garbage. I just put two waste baskets in the kitchen, one for garbage and one for paper, plastic, and cans. The cans get rinsed, cardboard gets folded, and plastic bottles get crushed.
I never thought of myself as a tree hugger, although I never liked to see a tree cut down. Especially an old one who loses its spot on this earth to become yet another ream of paper.
Don’t get me wrong. I know we need paper. But as I get more and more junk mail, and multiple mailings from work, I wonder about a better way. So much waste..
I have started asking for paper instead of plastic at the grocery store. At least paper can be recycled. I haven’t started bringing my own bags yet. That is next on my list..
The other day I was in a store. There were canvas bags for sale to bag your groceries. They were stamped with "Go Green." Well, there you go, I thought. I’m on the right track.
My thumb may be getting green, too. I have blossoms on my tomato plants.(Organic, of course.) I have never been able to grow tomatoes. This year I put them in pots and I was so happy to see those little flowers. Go Green!
You won’t see me marching for a cause, or defending a tree against the chain saw. But when I see my green container full, and my tomatoes beginning to bloom, I think I am doing some good for the earth. That is a good feeling.
Another good feeling is to make food that everyone enjoys. As long as we’re talking green, how about fried green tomatoes? You may have seen the movie, but have you ever had them?
Maybe my tomato plants will yield enough to make some soon.
Fried Green Tomatoes
(Like my mother-in-law used to make)
you will need;
preferable a cast iron frying pan
some good cooking oil (in those days she used lard)
three or four firm green tomatoes, sliced about ½ inch thick
flour and bread crumbs, mixed together
two or three beaten eggs
salt and pepper to taste
dip tomato slices in the egg
dredge in flour mixture
heat shortening or oil before adding tomatoes
salt and pepper the slices
fry on both sides until browned
drain well on paper towel
Pick up with your fingers, eat, and enjoy!

Missing

2007-06-12T06:05:00.000-05:00

from Shirley's Cottage

Missing
Deb, Jade, and I were doing our favorite summer thing: sitting on the pontoon and looking at the lake. We were sorry the rest of the family was not there, but it didn’t stop us from seizing the day.
The rain the week before had made the grass green again and brought out the flowers. This day there was only sunshine and beautiful blue skies. I wanted to pick my neighbor’s roses and make a bouquet. Of course I didn’t..
I love flowers in the house and wished I had some roses. The thought reminded me of my gramma’s roses.
"You know," I said. " There are some rose bushes at the end of the lake road that remind me of my Gramma’s roses. They are nowhere as big, but the flowers look the same."
Then I had to tell the story (again) about my Gramma’s two rose bushes. They were huge, like trees, reaching the upstairs bedroom windows.. Those bushes were full of flowers from top to bottom-pink ones in the backyard and red in the front.
My sister and I couldn’t pick them, though. There were more thorns than roses. When we went to Gramma’s, she would come out with thick gloves and big shears, and cut a beautiful bouquet for us to take home. Our whole house would have this great smell.
The bushes are long gone, but sometimes I think I can smell them. I sure miss those roses.
That got us to talking about the places and things we missed from Rockford.
What we missed most by all of us was our house on Charles Street. We would have moved it to the lake if it was possible. It was just a little bungalow with a great brick fireplace. It bore the wear and tear of raising a family, but we loved it. The walls could tell a story if they could talk. Sometimes I think they could. There was a time when four generations lived there. Yes. All at the same time. The circle of life was definitely part of that home.
On the lighter side, there were other things unique to our hometown.
I asked Jade what she missed most after our house. "Everything," she said. She is like her Aunt Tracy who likes the hustle and bustle of a big town. And malls everywhere.
Both Deb and Jade said they miss being able to go to Lino’s. It has been a family-owned restaurant for decades. There’s not pizza like it anywhere, and their special salad is second to . none.

If someone says, "I miss Lino’s pizza, you know sometime in the near future, someone will take a pizza run to Illinois.
Next on Deb’s list is Italian again, much like Lino’s. Maria’s, is a family owned restaurant. It’s been there so long that when I was born, my dad was delivering meat to Mama Maria. They still have the best steak and pasta you will ever eat. .
Fisher’s Potato Chips top the list. The best. We have never seen them anywhere else. You can buy the chips in big tubs. I would get them for graduation, showers, and Christmases. Last Christmas I forgot to get them, and you would have thunk I committed a crime.
Fishers is locally-owned and has been there for many, many years. My family gets tired of me telling of how when we were kids, we would walk from Lincoln Junior High School to the Fisher Factory. For a nickel, we would get a greasy lunch bag full of crushies (broken chips).
They miss their chips of today. I miss my crushies of yesterday.
In the long run, it may not be the food, the flowers, and the places we miss. Maybe there are times when we just miss-- those times.
When my gramma wasn’t pruning roses, she was most likely cooking. This recipe is for anyone who wants to add an authentic ethnic recipe to their files, Lithuanian style. She made everything from beet wine to beer soup to elephant ears. I’ll start with an easy one.first.
Farina Pudding (Manu Puddingas)
you will need:
1 cup cold cooked farina
3 cups scalded milk
2 eggs
½ cup sugar
½ t each salt and vanilla
½ cup white raisins
Pour scalded milk over farina.
Add the rest of the ingredients
Mix thoroughly
pour into buttered baking dish
Bake at 350 until pudding is firm, about 20 minutes
Enjoy your Lithuanian pudding.

from shirley's cottage

2007-06-05T06:09:00.000-05:00

It isn’t raining rain, you know,--

For two week-ends in a row, it was raining bathroom tissue on Ripley Road, and a few other select streets in town.
How long has it been the Cambridge High graduating tradition to teepee the trees? A very thorough job of it was done two week-ends in a row.
The day after the first one, I saw one lady out with a long picker. She was trying to get the paper out of her trees. As she shook the branches, a full roll fell from a high branch and rolled across the road. She just stood there and shook her head.
Two years ago I wrote about the tradition. There were even a few pictures in the paper. I teased some of the neighbors who got upset. I said no harm was done and the kids could be doing worse things.. Why, I said, didn’t they remember when they graduated? Some of them were even on the teepee brigade all those years ago. I bet some of the old-timers even tipped over an out-house or two.
I prided myself on not being an old biddy and understanding how "the kids" feel. When it happened again the next week-end, farther down the road, I wasn’t quite so sure how I felt..
The second set of trees are thicker and taller. How those kids got that tissue up that high, I don’t know. It was hanging from the tallest branches.
The wind was coming from the lake. So everything was blowing in the breeze. Paper blew across my windshield.. When I got home, it was attached under my car, and around my rear view mirrors.
We needed rain. We got it. The rain turned that bathroom tissue into icky old toilet paper. It clung and hung to the branches, taking its time to bio-degrade itself. Until finally there are just a few straggles on the upper most branches. Graduation and the annual prank is over for another year.
Thanks to the utility company, I don’t have any trees to get decorated. But I got to thinking, two week-ends might be a little over-kill.
So even though it was not in my yard, it was on my road. And on my car. I guess I still lean on the side of the kids. But it sure did make a mess for several days. . Once a year is enough. Okay? Until next year.
The real decoration was all the balloons. Everywhere you looked there were blue and white balloons; on mailboxes, decks, in yards. Parties were in abundance. Congratulations to all the graduates.
.
Even though it is a busy time and everyone is in a hurry, good food and recipes are abundant. What better time to make this cake for any party.
In-a-Hurry Chocolate nut-topped Cake
From my favorite Ladies Auxiliary Harmony Singing Society Cookbook
you will need:
1 package chocolate cake mix (without pudding)
1 large box chocolate pudding (not instant)
2 cups milk
1 ½ cups chocolate bits
1 c chopped walnuts
whipped cream (optional)
cook pudding with milk as directed
add cake mix stirring until well blended
Spread in sprayed 9x12 pan
Top with chocolate bits and nuts.
Bake 25-30 minutes at 350 degrees
Serve with whipped cream, if desired
Enjoy
P.S. For butterscotch cake use yellow cake mix, butterscotch pudding and butterscotch bits

TV AND ME

2007-05-29T09:54:00.000-05:00

TV and ME

It started many years ago. I was fourteen and a television set was delivered to our house. It was a big console, an RCA with this little round screen..
The only station was 100 miles away in Chicago, WGN, channel 9. We were at the mercy of the weather, wind and rain If we got a good signal, it was heaven. Sometimes all we could see and hear was snow and static.
Snow, nor rain, nor late at night stopped us from being mesmerized by the television.
When we eventually got local channels, and clear pictures every night–we watched as long as our parents allowed. Every week-end, we sang "The Star-spangled Banner" with the Navy Choir, while the stars and stripes went blowing in the wind and the station signed off.
The first color advertised was laughable now. But then we hurried to buy a piece of plastic in varied colors. It clung to the front of the picture tube. Sometimes there were green faces, but we had color!
I had no idea of things to come. Here we are today. Real color. 24/7 broadcasting, VCR’s (almost obsolete already), DVD’s, Tibo’s. From rabbit ears to antennas, cable to satellite.
Personally, I have come along for the ride. From the snowy pictures of Channel 9 to the dozens of channels before us today. The new term is 24/7. That is me and my TV. I don’t know if thee is and off button. I never turn it off.
That is not to say I sit 24/7 just watching TV. It just never goes off. Not even at night. I can read, write, do dishes, talk on the phone, and sleep with the TV on.
I watch everything from the cooking channel to American Idol. From Law and Order to Everyone Loves Raymond.
What has not changed in forty or fifty years are my favorites: I Love Lucy, Andy Griffith. Columbo, and Perry Mason. The TV Land channel is my comfort, my security. I don’t have to try to figure out what CSI will come up with to solve the case, or what schemes the Desperate Housewives have come up with.
I can relax because I already know Columbo knows the killer, Perry will get an acquittal, and Barney will get in and out of trouble in 30 minutes.
It still bothers me, though, that I just don’t ever turn off that tube. I have had conversations with people who say, "I just don’t watch television. Yet, they know what’s on.
I admit. I am a TV junkie. I think about turning the darn thing off Maybe someday.
I have to go now. Dr. Phil and my dishes are waiting.
I can cook with the TV on, too. In fact, I have gotten a lot of good recipes from the Food Channel. Here’s one just right for graduations, or any get-together for the summer.
Zesty Corn Dip
you will need:
8 oz softened cream cheese
2 T sour cream
½ t cayenne pepper
½ t cumin
1 can (15 1/4 oz each whole kernel corn and while corn, drained
1 can (10 oz) diced tomato and green chillies, drained
1 cup (4 oz) shredded cheddar cheese
one round loaf Italian bread, hollowed out
remaining bread cut into cubes
1 t minced cilantro
In bowl beat cream cheese, sour cream, cayenne and cumin
Stir in corn, tomatoes, and cheese.
Bake uncovered in ungreased baking dish, at 350 degrees for 30 minutes
Spoon into bread shell
Sprinkle with cilantro
Serve with bread cubes
Enjoy.
It started many years ago. I was fourteen and a television set was delivered to our house. It was a big console, an RCA with this little round screen..
The only station was 100 miles away in Chicago, WGN, channel 9. We were at the mercy of the weather, wind and rain If we got a good signal, it was heaven. Sometimes all we could see and hear was snow and static.
Snow, nor rain, nor late at night stopped us from being mesmerized by the television.
When we eventually got local channels, and clear pictures every night–we watched as long as our parents allowed. Every week-end, we sang "The Star-spangled Banner" with the Navy Choir, while the stars and stripes went blowing in the wind and the station signed off.
The first color advertised was laughable now. But then we hurried to buy a piece of plastic in varied colors. It clung to the front of the picture tube. Sometimes there were green faces, but we had color!
I had no idea of things to come. Here we are today. Real color. 24/7 broadcasting, VCR’s (almost obsolete already), DVD’s, Tibo’s. From rabbit ears to antennas, cable to satellite.
Personally, I have come along for the ride. From the snowy pictures of Channel 9 to the dozens of channels before us today. The new term is 24/7. That is me and my TV. I don’t know if thee is and off button. I never turn it off.
That is not to say I sit 24/7 just watching TV. It just never goes off. Not even at night. I can read, write, do dishes, talk on the phone, and sleep with the TV on.
I watch everything from the cooking channel to American Idol. From Law and Order to Everyone Loves Raymond.
What has not changed in forty or fifty years are my favorites: I Love Lucy, Andy Griffith. Columbo, and Perry Mason. The TV Land channel is my comfort, my security. I don’t have to try to figure out what CSI will come up with to solve the case, or what schemes the Desperate Housewives have come up with.
I can relax because I already know Columbo knows the killer, Perry will get an acquittal, and Barney will get in and out of trouble in 30 minutes.
It still bothers me, though, that I just don’t ever turn off that tube. I have had conversations with people who say, "I just don’t watch television. Yet, they know what’s on.
I admit. I am a TV junkie. I think about turning the darn thing off Maybe someday.
I have to go now. Dr. Phil and my dishes are waiting.
I can cook with the TV on, too. In fact, I have gotten a lot of good recipes from the Food Channel. Here’s one just right for graduations, or any get-together for the summer.
Zesty Corn Dip
you will need:
8 oz softened cream cheese
2 T sour cream
½ t cayenne pepper
½ t cumin
1 can (15 1/4 oz each whole kernel corn and while corn, drained
1 can (10 oz) diced tomato and green chillies, drained
1 cup (4 oz) shredded cheddar cheese
one round loaf Italian bread, hollowed out
remaining bread cut into cubes
1 t minced cilantro
In bowl beat cream cheese, sour cream, cayenne and cumin
Stir in corn, tomatoes, and cheese.
Bake uncovered in ungreased baking dish, at 350 degrees for 30 minutes
Spoon into bread shell
Sprinkle with cilantro
Serve with bread cubes
Enjoy.

IN THE PINK

2007-05-22T12:56:00.000-05:00

IN THE PINK

Several weeks ago, I was in Fort Atkinson. I was at the stop sign directly across the street from the Frostie Freeze.
All last fall and winter, the only activity going on was the selling of Christmas trees in their parking lot.
Today was different. It was spring and they were open for business. "Good deal," I thought. I like a little ice cream treat as I am driving home. It wasn’t to be that day. It looked like all the kids in town and their families had the same idea.
The cars were lined up at the drive-up around the corner and down the block. Kids and grown-ups were three and four deep at the windows.
The tables were full, and people were leaning against their cars. I figured it must have been a convention or something. I would have to wait another day for my first Frostie Freeze of
the season.
There was no Frostie Freeze years ago. When we were "summer people" and the kids were growing up, we would head south on Sunday nights and through Fort so we could stop at Kent’s. He made his own ice cream. Real ice cream. It was delicious. But he was a curmudgeon. We used to say he tried not to smile. I think deep down he had a good heart. He sure had good ice cream. But no smiles.
Today it’s Frostie Freeze- alive and well and selling soft-serve. There is a little sign that sits atop the big sign that says-Since 1983. The building is white. Everything else is pink. And I mean PINK. Everything from the signs, to the picnic tables, the menus, and even the florescent light bulbs.
The shirts and hats are the same shade of pink. Sometimes even the soft serve of the day is pink. Not an ordinary pink. I think years ago we called it hot pink. Whatever, it is a great color. A happy color.
That’s not the best thing, though. If you go up to the window, you can smell the cleaner. And if you peek inside, everything you see is spotlessly clean.
Pink. Spotless. Soft serve. That isn’t even the best thing. It’s the people.
I don’t have an agenda. I don’t even know anyone’s name there. I just know the owner is enthusiastic, friendly and smiling. He either trains his staff to be the same way, or gives them smiling lessons before they start working.
Nowadays I go through the drive-up window. I always get the same thing- a small cone.
It’s a buck. It lasts for nine miles down highway 12 to A. It’s my treat to myself and no one has to know.
It doesn’t matter what I feel like when I pull up to the window.. I leave with more than a soft serve for a buck. I leave with a smile on my face. It lasts longer than the cone.
Now I have confessed why sometimes I am not hungry when I get home and dinner is late.
If I do a crock pot meal in the morning, it will be ready anytime. I haven’t done any slow cooking for a long time. I got a new crock pot recently. This is one of the recipes from the new
Taste of Home magazine. I made it. It is good.
Curried Chicken with Peaches
:
you will need
one chicken, cut up (I take the skin off)
salt and pepper to taste
1 29 oz can sliced peaches
½ cup chicken broth
1 T melted butter
1 T minced onion
2 t curry powder (I used one)
2 minced garlic cloves
1/4 t ground ginger
3 T corn starch
3 T water
1/4 cup raisins (I used dried cranberries)
Place chicken in show cooker
salt and pepper
Drain peaches, reserving ½ cup juice
In small bowl, combine the rest of the ingredients (except the cornstarch, water, peaches and raisins)
pour over chicken
Cook for 3-4 hours on low, or two hours on high
Remove chicken
Add cornstarch and water
Cook on high until thickened
Stir in peaches and raisins
Put chicken back in pot
serve over rice
Enjoy

from shirley's cottage

2007-05-15T09:18:00.000-05:00

The Lake Road, Revisited

I know I have complained about things on the lake road: too many signs, the hacking of the trees by the utility company, the frequent speeders, and so on. But the road endures.
I think of this 1.8 mile stretch as a community unto itself.
There are all kinds of people from varied backgrounds, interests and economic situations. Summer people, year-round residents, and vacationers share the road and surroundings.
There are trailers, mobile homes, campers, cabins, cottages, and six-figure homes. There is even a home down the road that was raised up and they built under it. Way to go. I’m not saying we all live in total harmony, but almost.
Sometimes I see things that are not there anymore. I go past the old Arbor Dell and remember how we used to walk up there for dinner. There was a time when the lower level was opened up for the younger ones. Saturday nights was for live music, and a little dancing.
With all the windows, the lake and its activities were part of the scene. The rectangle bar made us all friends. Everyone talked to everyone. We met a lot of nice people at the old Arbor Dell.
Eva Ruxton’s rummage sale is another place and memory that is dear to my heart. Her home and the Damp home next door were the impressive homes on the lake.
Her year-round rummage sale was a place you could not pass up. It might have been called a craft fair. She made her home available to anyone who had homemade wares to sell, besides good rummage stuff. The kids could take a quarter and come home with a treasure. I got the best jar of pickles I ever had at Eva’s.
The best thing about Eva was Eva herself. She was a lovely, truly nice, classy lady. Always one of the best things about the walk on the lake road. She is still missed.
Shore Place used to be more than a sandy beach.. It was a safe hang-out for the kids of all ages.
I miss what no longer is. It reminds me to celebrate what is right now. You know, take time to smell the roses. I don’t have any roses, but I do take time to enjoy what my little community has to offer.
I like the walkers. They are the ones who seem to enjoy. I hope to become one of them in the near future.
Besides being used for leisure and exercise, the road is a good training ground. This morning two guys on bikes who looked like they were practicing for the tour de France came whizzing by. They took a split second to nod their helmeted heads.
Lately I haven’t seen the dogs pulling a sled on wheels. I always thought they were training for the Idilarod in Alaska.
I probably talk about the lake and the road a little too much. But it is so much a part of my day, every day. When the season changes, I have to comment. I’ll wait until Fall for the next chapter.
It’s easy today to seg-way from the lake road to the recipe. I received a book in the mail from friends Bill and Judy. It is Paula Deen’s memoirs. You know her if you cook, or watch the cooking channel.
. As I took it out of the mailbox, I headed right down to the lake. It doesn’t get any better: a beautiful sunny day, coming off of the lake road, sitting on the pier, and reading a good book. I was smelling the roses.
Comfort food from Paula Deen’s It Ain’s All About The Cooking.
Beef Stroganoff
you will need:
1 ½ pounds cubed round steak, cut into strips
flour
2 T olive oil
2 T butter
1 onion, sliced
8 oz fresh mushrooms, sliced
one 10 3/4 can Campbell’s mushroom soup
one 11 ounce beef broth
1 cup sour cream
salt and pepper to taste
House seasoning (1 cup salt, 1/4 cup pepper, 1/4 cup garlic powder, Makes 1 ½ cups, will last up to six months)
Season steak strips with house seasoning and dust with flour
Brown on both sides in oil and butter
Remove steak from pan
Add onion, and mushrooms to drippings
Saute and sprinkle with 1 t flour
Put steak back in pan
Add soup and broth
Cook on low for about 30 minutes
Stir in sour cream
Serve over flat noodles. And enjoy.

shirley's cottage

2007-05-07T17:24:00.002-05:00

NO PARKING !AND THEY MEAN IT

Last year there was a letter to the editor about more parking signs that were going to be put up on Ripley Road. I remember I agreed with the writer, but didn’t follow up on anything. That’s the way it goes sometimes. I should have contacted that lady.
The other day I thought about the letter a Town of Oakland worker was putting NO PARKING signs up. I live on a corner. They were both put on the street signs across from each other.
These signs are not just on street signs. They are on telephone poles and free-standing poles.
. Not to be outdone, there are a dozen and more others ranging from "hidden driveway" to "pedestrian crossing"-several diamond-shaped signs with arrows and one with a squiggle. I have to admit there are a few whose meaning escapes me from my driver training days.
And to my surprise, there are six 25 mph signs. I would have guessed fewer if I wouldn’t have counted them myself. Maybe there should be more of those..
What adds to the story is the placement of these signs. There are none from Shore Place to Arbor Dell. Then they are all bunched up, like by my cottage. There are spots where you can’t walk, yet there is a sign warning you to not park. The pedestrian crossing is all but covered up.
In 43 years, I have never had a problem driving down the lake road. It would be like saying the walkers couldn’t walk, the bikers couldn’t bike, the skaters couldn’t skate .because the cars have to give a little leeway.
Last year an unknown neighbor a few houses down, had a big party. Cars were parked along side the road. In fact, in front of my cottage. They were all Illinois plates. It was once and posed no problems. I hope this did not precipitate the onslaught of signs. I heard the rumor the signs are to keep the "summer people" from parking all over. I hope it was just a rumor.
If there is a parking problem somewhere along the road, could it not be dealt with at that point? Do we have to have another 34 signs on the road?
Put those together with the mail boxes, street signs, for sale signs, subdivision signs, no trespassing signs, and paper boxes, it’s a wonder we can see the—what is that out yonder? Oh yes, the lake.
If I have to look between the signs to see the lake, so be it. I don’t see signs that say we can’t look at the lake. The lake and the lake road are there for all to enjoy. But just remember, NO PARKING!

Now that I’m off my soapbox, I made myself hungry. I sure don’t feel like cooking.
You might not think this is a "recipe", but it was one of my sister and my favorite lunches when we used to come home for lunch from school. (I may have given it before, but it bears repeating)
Franco American Spaghetti O’s a la Gram
you will need:
a big can of Spaghetti O’s
a small onion, diced and sauteed
½ pound hamburger, browned and drained
one 8 ounce can mushrooms, drained (optional)
a little catsup
Mix all together
Heat thoroughly
Serve with good bread and butter
If you have time, take any fruit, canned and drained, or fresh and mix with a can of cherry pie filling. Top with whipped cream
Enjoy-a simply-cheap- and fast meal.

from shirley's cottage

2007-05-01T10:16:00.001-05:00

The Flood and Graduation

You would think a story about New Orleans, flooding , and getting to a graduation would be about Hurricane Katrina. Not this time.
This graduation was years ago. Our son was graduating from Tulane University.
His dad and I were not about to miss it. We made our plane reservations. We were also bringing little Teddy, and his two sisters who were visiting both sets of grandparents.
We were to arrive in New Orleans the day ahead, There would be time to visit, help with the preparations for the party, (which was also Teddy’s birthday) and relax a little.
I was looking forward to walking the path on Lake Ponchatrain, which was just a stone’s throw from their home.
We took off for O’Hare with hours to spare before take-off. It had been raining for a day or two. The news talked of some flooding in Chicago. We were not concerned until we got closer to the airport.
One underpass we saw from I-90 was completely flooded and there were several cars-FLOATING. I had never seen anything like it. As we went on, houses were surrounded by water. I was starting to worry.
We kept the radio on, but there was no information about the airport. Until we got to the entrance with hundreds of other cars. We couldn’t go forward or turn around. The airport was closed.
And it just kept raining. Plus, we had three little kids in the car, and nary a cookie to be found.
Finally, the police turned everyone around and headed us back the other way. We finally got to a Burger King with all of the rest of the stranded people. And to an overused pay phone.
To shorten the story, I’ll just say, nine hours after starting out from home, we arrived back: tired, hungry, wet, and heart-broken because our son was going to graduate the next day, without us.
At ten p.m., O’Hare was opened, although it was still raining. Our friends drove us in. At least if we could get a flight, we would be there. We spent the night at the gate, with the kids sleeping on the suitcases.
We did get a flight, hailed a cab, dropped the kids off with the sitter, and took her car to the campus.
Now if I could just remember how to get there, and what building graduation was. Automatic pilot took over and I found it, knowing we were too late.
Here we were, bedraggled in yesterday’s clothes, humidity dripping from my hair, and tears streaming down my face.
We walked into the auditorium. The graduates were receiving their diplomas. I immediately saw Ted, looking at his wife, and shrugging his shoulders, as if to say, "They didn’t make it."
Then his name was announced. He stood tall and handsome, walked across that stage and graduated. And we were there to see it. Boy, was I glad our name started with T instead of A.
I have been to many graduations since then, both family and friends. But none like the one in New Orleans, Louisiana. Which by the way, that day was a beautiful sunny day. Not a drop of rain.
If you have graduation and parties this year, I suggest you just be glad you are there. And enjoy.
If you are bringing something to a graduation party, this is a good appetizer. Easy to make and easy to transport.
Burrito Roll-ups
you will need:
four super-duper extra large burritos (makes about 30-40)
(flavored ones are best- can be found at the end of the aisle by the refrigerated cookie dough at the Pig)
one 8 ounce cream cheese in the package, softened
1 big Tablespoon horseradish
½ pound deli roast beef, sliced thin, not shaved
3 green onions (just the green) chopped
Mix onions and horseradish with cream cheese
Spread on burritos
Lay beef slices ,on top of cream cheese mixture
Roll up burrito
Wrap in foil or plastic wrap
Refrigerate for several hours or overnight
slice on the diagonal about 3/4 inch thick
serve, and enjoy!

Spring

2007-04-26T10:40:00.000-05:00

Hi All
I am on the bumpy road to recovery from my knee surgery
Thanks to all for caring about my old knee
It is time now to focus or di-focus on sickness and pain
I will be emailing to all I owe in the near future

Spring–She’s Bustin’ Out All Over
And it’s about time! Old Man Winter slowed things down a bit with some out of season snow storms, but the hardy survived and all is in bloom.
For me, spring began several weeks ago when my friend, Bill, called from Tennessee. He is a North Woods native, but he and his wife, Judy, opted to enjoy the Tennessee springtimes on a permanent basis.
"The dogwoods are in bloom in Tennessee." he teased. I came back with, "The magnolias are budding in Wisconsin." Today I could tell him they are blooming.
There is nothing prettier than a flowering tree. Unless it is the first peek of the daffodils and tulips, signaling the rest of the flower parade to get ready.
The most beautiful tulips I have seen so far are not even in the ground. They are purple and big, decorating my TV in a clear glass vase with pebbles on the bottom. They are pretty on their own, but the reason I have them makes them more enjoyable.
My daughter Kelly has a dear friend who lives nearby. I live closer to Elaine than Kelly, so sometimes I do the "mother of the friend" duty until they can get together. She came to visit and brought the tulips. For me to enjoy. And enjoy I do. (She also brought something else. See recipe.)
Back to the outdoors. It was that perfect spring day, and a lot of piers were going in. Since I "don’t do piers." I was looking around the yard, at all the work there is to do. The thing that bothers me most if it doesn’t get done, is the flower bed by the mailboxes. I wanted to get the old rake out and get the dead leaves off of the green stuff coming up.
I thought, "When am I ever going to get this done?" Then I just went out back. I was hoping–out of sight, out of mind.
The next morning I went out for the paper. Was I seeing things? Or not seeing things. Someone had raked and cleaned out my bed of plants, and it was looking pretty good. I just found out who did it. Thanks, neighbor. You have given my favorite gift. The gift of time.
A bloom here and a birdhouse there, and Spring is in Swing again. I love it. There are other days for thinking and planning. Other days for complaining and even giving thanks to all who deserve it. This is one of Mother Nature’s finest hours. So just BREATHE and enjoy the day.
Something else to enjoy is the other thing Elaine brought with the tulips. She brought what in one bite has become my favorite cookie. I call them Elaine’s cookies. But this is what is on the recipe. And I guarantee you do not have to be a Republican to enjoy!
Laura Bush’s Oatmeal Chocolate Chunk Cookies
(Campaign Cookies)
you will need:
3 sticks butter 1 ½ cups room temperature 3 cups quick oatmeal
1 cup sugar 2 cups chopped walnuts
1 ½ cups light brown sugar 3 cups chocolate chunks
3 eggs 2 cups dried cherries, chopped coarse
1 t vanilla
3 cups flour
1 T baking powder
1 t salt
2 t cinnamon
Heat oven to 350 degrees
with electric mixer, cream butter and sugars
Beat in eggs, one at a time, then beat in vanilla
add flour, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and oats
Slowly beat until blended
By hand, stir in walnuts, chocolate, and cherries
Drop by T onto cookie sheet covered with parchment paper
Bake about 14 minutes ‘til just golden brown
yield: 8 dozen or so
P.S. It does not take very long to enjoy a dozen or so of these really good cookies!

what price a new knee

2007-04-17T09:47:00.000-05:00

from shirley's cottage

What Price A New Knee?
There was not a moment before last week that I ever thought about writing about what has become my "new knee".. Then I went to my old ways and asked if I should talk about my upcoming knee surgery.
One answer I got was yes, go ahead. I t might make someone feel better who needs the same surgery. Besides, I was reminded, my column has been one of personal experiences and memories. "Okay," I said. "Sharing recipes and such is a lot different than zeroing in on a body part. How many times can I say ouch?" .
My knee has been in the conversation way too much in the past several years. I started walking funny way before the pain started. During that time I quit walking (my favorite thing is to walk down to the lake with my coffee, sit on the pontoon and just look at the lake.),.
The next several years went downhill. I tried the cortisone shots. I was determined to do exercises and lose weight. I thought my joints would forgive me if I gave them less to haul around. All of it, too little, too late.
Last week I had the surgery. I am home now. This is the ouch, and rehab stage of what is called total knee replacement.
When all is said and done, I should be joining the ones who have traveled the path before me, and say they are glad they did it, and urge you to do the same. I will say I have not talked to anyone who is sorry they did it. I am not there yet. I reserve my opinion until I can walk down to the lake, pain-free, not spilling my coffee.
There are many things I could say today. I would not have to search for words to tell of some of the kindnesses and good care I received. There are plenty of war stories, too. There were times I was sure I was going to Hell in a hand-basket if not for my family. My daughter connected all the dots to get me the proper care and finally home. My son has come to the table to do whatever is necessary during the rehab period.
I would love to tell you some of more not so good things that happened. I don’t believe those stories are for this column. You can be sure they will be told ad nauseam during the summer on the pontoon, over a brew or two.
What I will say is: make sure you know what your insurance will or will not do. You may be shocked.
Be sure you have family, friend, or someone you can trust to follow you every step of the way. You had knee surgery, not brain surgery. Yet, there are those that think you don’t have any thought processes left.
And make sure you are connected with your own doctor, who knows you and cares about your whole self. I am not knocking the ortho doctor. But that is what he is. His forte is your knee. Period.
I had a few wake-up calls I never even thought of. We have talked about knee for so long, I kind of took the road of the ortho doctor. Just thinking about my knee. It is much more than that.
It is an emotional experience that I never thought about. Instantly, the roles reverse. My family has to care for me. I can’t jump into the car and make my four or five daily trips to town, or make a special dish that someone is hungry for.
I tell myself every day is one day closer to getting back my independence. One day closer to driving my kids crazy. That’s okay. They’ll have to put up with me going back to the way I was, faults and all.
I have a million thank you’s to give, and some wake-up calls to share. That is for next week.
My daughter is a good cook. But I know she want to hang up the apron. When you see a walker out in the garbage, you can have it. I won’t need it anymore. I’ll just need my apron.
Before I get back into the kitchen, I will enjoy some of Deb’s cooking. .
This is one of my favorites. There are some perks to being laid up.
Deb’s Broccoli and Cauliflower Salad
you will need;
a big salad bowl
½ to one head each Broccoli and cauliflower (depending on amount you are making
chopped very fine
½ small onion, chopped fine
½ pound bacon, fried crisp and crumbled (not bacon bits-make it yourself)
grated cheddar cheese-enough to top salad
one 16 oz bottle Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing (original)
one cup or so Hellman’s Real Mayo
sugar, salt and pepper to taste.
Mix veggie in bowl
Mix dressing with sugar, salt, and pepper. Use dressing @ 2 to 1 to mayo
Mix both together so all is moist
Top with cheese and bacon
(Make sure salad is good and moist)
Chill and enjoy!

A MILLION THANKS

2007-04-10T04:58:00.000-05:00

from shirley's cottage

A Million Thanks
"My mother thanks you-my father thanks you, and I thank you." If you are a baby boomer, or a fan of old movies, you might recognize those words from the movie, "Yankee Doodle Dandy". James Cagney, (remember him?) played George M. Cohen, one America’s most famous songwriters. The family was in vaudeville, and at the end of their act, little George would come out with the thank you.
I don’t know why that scene stuck with me, but it did. If I had a thank you to say, many times I would say it that way just to be a little funny.
I hadn’t seen the movie for a lot of years. It was on AMC the other night. Being older than a baby boomer, I fell asleep before George said his thank you’s.
The next morning I had the local news on TV. One of the commercials had several Elvis impersonators getting haircuts. One of them said to the barber, "Thank you. Thank you very much." He did sound like Elvis. Elvis used to say that many times during his concerts.
On the way to work, I had the radio on, as usual. There was a report about saying thank you. A man wrote an article about it. (I didn’t get his name. I tuned in late.). He started thinking in the course of a day, how many people deserved a thank you from him, and how many actually got it.
It was an experiment of sorts, but he started writing thank you notes. Most of them were email. He did write some and sent them via "snail mail".
The person may have been a clerk who helped him with his shopping, or the receptionist at the doctor’s office. In the course of a week or so, he thanked over 90 people in one way or another.
If his appreciation made the person feel good, it made him feel better for having acknowledged a kindness.
I’m not suggesting we all go out and send a hundred thank you notes every week. So many times I tell myself I am going to send a thank you note, or make a phone call just to keep in touch. I rarely do.
I will be having some time off in the next few weeks. This is a perfect time to do some extra thanking of my own. I might do some emailing. Most will be handwritten. There is something more personal about a handwritten note. I have lots of blank cards sitting in my desk drawer, bought with good intentions, but just gathering dust. I’m going to brush them off and get writing.

Before I get writing, I will start right now with you, my readers. I appreciate you more than you know. My kids thank you, my grandkids thank you, and I thank you. Thank you! Thank you very much!
One more thanks to my best girlfriend, Judy, for this recipe. It is her favorite appetizer.
We first had this at a friends’ home when we would vacation in Minocqua. It makes me think of the "good old days".We would pack up our collective kids,(all seven of them), and head north for fun at the lake.
Melba’s Hot Crabmeat Spread
you will need:
8 oz cream cheese
2 4.5 oz cans of good crabmeat, drained and flaked
½ cup sour cream
2 T green onion, chopped
1 T milk
1 t lemon juice
1/4 t garlic salt
pinch of pepper
1/3 cup sliced almonds, toasted
Mix all ingredients except almonds
Spread in an ungreased 9 inch pan
Sprinkle with the almonds
Bake at 375 degrees for 15-20 minutes
Serve warm with your choice of crackers
(and a nice glass of wine, if it suits you)
Enjoy.

HAPPY EASTER

2007-04-06T08:19:00.000-05:00

from shirley's cottage

Easter Bunnies, Eggs, and Lilies
I have no one to blame but myself. When I can’t think of something to write, I ask. Two weeks ago I asked for a word, any word, and I would write a column about it.
I am sticking to it. But it was hard. Harder than just sitting with a blank screen and hoping for an idea.
My goal is to write something not too boring, or reach a memory, a funnybone, or even a nerve. Then to end with a good recipe.
Writing about the Easter Bunny during the Easter season sounds like it would be a slam dunk. It would, except I wrote about the whole thing last Easter: How the Easter Bunny came to our house, and left eggs and presents by the fireplace., dressing the little girls in patent lather shoes, lacy socks, and straw hats, and the brother in short pants, a fresh haircut.
What could I write about the Easter Bunny? Maybe I could tell about how the bunny got to be the Easter Bunny. I am not very adept at the internet, but I heard you could Google anything. I typed in Easter Bunny Origin.
Oh my gosh. What popped up was mind-boggling to a novice like me.
There was everything from the history of Easter, to bunnies, eggs, lilies, games, jokes, poems, recipes, crafts, hymns, screen savers, and more.
There were dancing Easter eggs, and bunnies hopping to real music. I jumped when the music came on. I didn’t even know my computer could play music or talk! There were also Easter jokes, dinner menus, poems, and games. The choices were endless. And everything in bright color! I really was enjoying it.
I told myself I better get with the program. The internet world is passing me by.
Kids would have a good time on this website. Google Easter Bunny Origin, and click on the third web-site- Easter Bunny Origin.
There was so much information, I just picked out a sentence or two about the Easter Bunny, Easter eggs, and Easter lilies:
The bunny was first used as a symbol of Easter in Germany. The first edible Easter bunnies were made from pastry and sugar. Also in Germany, children made nests of grass, believing the Easter Bunny would fill the baskets with colored eggs during the night. The custom came to America with the immigrants.
Centuries ago, eating eggs during Lent was taboo. (I didn’t look up the reason.) Eventually, parents decorated eggs and hidden for children to find on Easter. On Easter Sunday, with Lent over, the eggs were brought to the table, colored red as a symbol of Easter joy.
Legend has it that the lily flower came from Eve’s tears when she and Adam were banished from the Garden of Eden. It has become the symbol of purity because of its snow white color. The Easter Lily is also called the White Trumpet. No matter what the legend or the story, the lily is a flower denoting purity, grace, and beauty.
However you spend Easter, looking at dancing eggs on the web, or taking your kids to an
Easter egg hunt, I wish you the peace of the season.
Whatever the day brings, we have to eat. From honey-baked ham (so popular this year) to leg of lamb, or even a tofu loaf, enjoy.
This candy was also on the web. Even the kids could make these Easter eggs.
Easter Candies from the Web
you will need:
1 pound confectioner’s sugar
2 T water
1 T light corn syrup
1 t softened butter
1 t Vanilla
1/4 t salt
1/4 t almond extract
1 pinch cream of tartar
1 1/3 cup flaked coconut
8 squares semi-sweet chocolate ,melted in double boiler
combine all ingredients except coconut and chocolate
after you have a mixture, add coconut and shape into eggs
cool chocolate and frost eggs.
HAPPY EASTER!

from shirley's cottage

2007-03-27T15:04:00.000-05:00

I’ll See You In My Dreams

I really like to write. However, I do not believe I am an inspired writer. I am more of a perspired writer. Sometimes it is just plain hard work. The hardest for me (ask my editor) what can I write this week
I got half an idea last week. I asked several people to give me a word, any word, and I would try and write my column around it. I got three words: Easter Bunny, (counted as one ), dream, and quirky. The bunny will have to wait. I think I can tie up the other two in one column. Here goes:
Last Wednesday, March 21, the first day of Spring. It was not sunny, nor rainy. Not hot or cold. The weather was really quirky.
If you had occasion to ride or walk on the lake road that day, you know what I mean. The road was clear for a moment. Then all of a sudden the wind blew fog in from the lake so thick you could not see the road or the water.
Then, for several seconds, everything was clear, and almost sunny. It continued that way to the end of the road. By the time I got to town, it was all clear.
Coming home, as I turned onto the lake road, it was as if I had entered another time or place.
As I entered one of the foggies, I looked at the lake. I swear I saw the ice separate, and a big head popped up. Sure looked like the Lake Ripley Monster. But–she wasn’t a monster at all. Head tilted, she was smiling, as if to say, "It’s me, but I’m not a monster. Why, I wouldn’t bite a toe or nip a fish." Before I could question myself, she and the fog were gone. It was clear again.
It didn’t take a second, and the fog blew across the road again. Visibility-zero. Except on the lake. I looked, and looked again. Coming through the ice and the fog, I saw my husband, on the old pontoon. He tipped his captain’s hat, brew in hand, thoroughly enjoying his ride. I didn’t even question myself. I just enjoyed the dream.
Then I was almost home. As I drove into the clear, I saw my dad, standing under the old oak tree, arms across his ample girth, just like the day he and my mom bought the cottage.
The tree is not even there anymore, losing the war with the utility lines. But the tree and he are there to me. So is Ted, Sr., on his old pontoon. Even the Lake Ripley Lady. I’ll see them in my dreams.
A quirky dream? I guess so. But, I put the two words together, and drove through some great memories. You can’t ask for more than that on the first day of Spring
As we go into spring, the recipes change. The soups and stews go on the back-burner. The finger foods and no-bake desserts take center stage.
I looked at a few of my cookbooks to see how I could go from dreams to a recipe. What popped up was Are You Hungry Tonight?, Elvis’ Favorite Recipes. Elvis was of my era. This cookbook is full of pictures of him at his best. That is how I wish to remember him.
Each recipe was one of his favorites. With no regard to calorie, or content. My favorite breakfast is biscuits and gravy. What if I could have had breakfast with Elvis--biscuits and gravy from his favorite recipe? Only in my youthful dreams.

Smoky Mountain Gravy (serve with mashed potatoes or biscuits0
you will need:
½ pound mild sausage
3 T flour
2 cups whole milk
In a large skillet, crumble and brown sausage over high heat
Sprinkle flour over sausage, stirring constantly
Gradually add the milk
Continue stirring until gravy comes to a full boil, about three minutes
Salt and pepper to taste
( a simple recipe, but is so good. The key is to keeps stirring until gravy is creamy.)
Enjoy your breakfast, enjoy your dreams.

the old metal box

2007-03-19T16:39:00.000-05:00

from shirley's cottage

The old metal recipe box
I probably get on my editor’s last nerve. Every week when I go in, I say, "do you have an idea for my article this week?" She has enough of her own ideas to gather with her work: the editorial, the meetings she has to report on, special occasions, and just what’s going on about town. Yet, she always tries to give me a boost in the right direction.
Last week I said, "Give me one word. Any word, and I will try and write around it." Actually, she gave me two words. But those are for another day. Because when I got home there was an email from her.
It touched my heart, maybe in a selfish way. For this is the way I feel about my recipes, and more yet, about this column. My mom’s handwritten recipes and notes on the old cookbooks are not simply to feed the flock. My grandma’s Lithuanian cookbook is not just a way to use old potatoes. They are a source of memory, remembering, and maybe of a happier day when the moms were still here. A time when the kids were home, under one roof, and the chaos was music to the ears. (Sometimes).
I don’t know this mom, but I know her daughter. She is loved and there is no chance of her EVER being forgotten. Here is what the old metal recipe box means to one daughter.
Quotes from my email.
"Hey Shirley
---I was talking to my mom the other day and we were talking about recipes, of all things. I had mentioned to her how when I moved out I had her (give me) my favorite recipes so I could write them in my recipe journal.
—All of sudden, she looked really sad. I asked what was wrong and she said, ‘People will always remember your dad. I always hear how they remember him for his barbecue sauce. But what will people remember about me? All I have is recipes that have been handed down.’
She was bothered by that. The thing it made me think about is how she always had dinner done and on the table, whether it was her recipe or not. I think of the days she would pull down her metal recipe box and look through the treasure trove of memories-years of memories-in that box, and feel how lucky we were to have it."
She went on to say the taco bake recipe was given to her mom by a good friend that had moved to Florida, and subsequently died while playing BINGO!
The recipe has been used for many a potlucks, Scout dinners, funerals, and just a good family dinner.
I didn’t know the lady in Florida. I don’t even know my editor’s mom . But you can bet when I make Taco Bake, I will be thinking of them, and bingo.
In fact, I’m making it today, to be ready for when my girls get home from a Spring Break holiday. A recipe from one memory box to another.
Taco Bake
you will need:
I pound ground beef
1 can corn, undrained
1 8 oz can Hunt’s tomato sauce
½ cup shredded cheddar or taco cheese
one taco seasoning packet
1 ½ cups water
2 T corn starch
corn or taco chips
Brown the beef in a large frying pan and drain. Add taco mix and cornstarch.
Stir to coat
Add undrained corn and tomato sauce
Add water
Stir and bring to boil
Reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes until the mixture thickens a bit.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees
put mixture in a casserole dish
Cover with chips and cheese
Bake in oven until cheese melts
Serve with chips
variation: leave chips off when baking.
Enjoy!

for sale, my junk, my treasures

2007-03-12T20:03:00.000-05:00

from shirley's cottage

For sale–My junk, my treasure
Daylight savings time is three weeks early. The sun has been shining for several days. It is trying to peek in the few windows that got Windexed over the winter.
Time for the annual plan to declutter the cottage and have a yard sale on Memorial Day week-end. The key word is plan. The plan is there every year, but it has only happened three times.
The first time I had a yard sale, I didn’t have to wear specs to see the prices, my hair was still naturally brown, and the kids were little rugrats running all over while I tried to sell my wares.
I didn’t know anything about "stuff", but I got a clue when a guy came about 6:30 a.m., and scarfed up a pink and white serving bowl on a pedestal. I had $5.00 on it and knew I would have to barter. He was gone with that bowl faster than I could take the tag off. It was then that I knew he got a bargain. The lid was broken, but he didn’t care.
I should have learned my lesson, but no. I also sold my grandmother’s end table lamps, a mantle clock with lions on the sides, and my brass fireplace screen. I don’t remember for sure, but I might have made a whoppin’ twenty bucks on the whole deal.
It was a lot of work, for not a lot of money. I missed the lamps, clock, and screen.
Especially when I didn’t make enough to get a new fireplace screen.
Fast forward thirty-some years later. After forty years in the same home, it was time to move permanently to the cottage. Time dims some memories. I decided to have a moving sale.
We piled everything that didn’t go in the big dumpster we had rented (it got to overflowing) and took the rest to the front yard where in my youth I had sold things I still missed.
It was such a bust. What I could have gotten a few bucks for, I was afraid to sell, thinking I might have a real treasure. (I found out later the knick knacks of my mom’s were valuable (if they had a made in China stamp on them.) Guess where they are now? Dusty and dirty in a box that just keeps getting moved around. I couldn’t sell the old rocker with the broken arm, either.
The third sale was better. Actually, it was my son’s. It was at the cottage. I didn’t really help much except to tell him what he could not sell. How could I get rid of my grandpa’s sauerkraut maker?
With this next one I’m thinking if I plan and not procrastinate, know what I am selling, and ORGANIZE, I should have a successful sale with not a whole lot of pain.

I read an article in one of my favorite magazines, (free at the grocery stores) 50 Plus Lifestyles, titled "How to downsize your possessions".
The first thing it said to do was to sort. Start with four boxes:
< keep because you can’t live without it
> remain with family or close friends
> sell because of monetary value
> donate, too good to toss
I would add a garbage bag for too bad to donate.
Good plan. I started the day after I returned from my daughter’s. She has just moved from Boise, Idaho, to Chicago.
I only have two little problems. One box is overflowing, one is half full, and the other two are almost empty. I haven’t used the garbage bag yet.
My other little problem is; what do I do with the boxes I brought home from my daughter’s?
Come on by Memorial Day. If there is not a sale sign in my yard, stop by anyway. We can sit on the deck, have a brew, and talk about sales that never happended.
We can also talk about cookbooks. In the boxes from Kelly, there were several cookbooks. I’m going to open one up and point. That will be my recipe for the week. I hope it is a good one.
Creamy Hash Brown Casserole from 2003 Southern Living
you will need:
1 32 oz frozen or refrigerated hash browns
1 10 ½ oz can cream of chicken soup
1 8 oz sour cream
1 small onions, chopped
1 5 oz evaporated mild
½ cup butter, melted
1 t rosemary
salt and pepper to taste
cooking spray
1 cup cheddar cheese
Mix all ingredients together except cheese
pour into sprayed baking pan
Sprinkle with cheese
Bake at 350 for one hour or until bubbly
let set for ten minutes. Sounds good. enjoy.

give me my money back

2007-03-11T13:45:00.000-05:00

Sorry to all of my fan(s) for being late with my column. The days they just fly.

from shirley's cottage

GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK!
I was on my way home from work, and the big fast food sign beckoned. I could hear it say to me: Come on in-have a triple burger, super-size fries, and wash it down with an extra super-giant real; coke
I didn’t even feel guilty as I pulled into the parking space I’d been doing a lot of healthy cooking lately; reading labels, omitting fructose, msg, and preservatives. A person can only take so much. I needed a fast food fix.
I went inside instead of the drive-thru. I wanted to take my time looking at the menu and ordering. I had been missing the smell and sounds of grease and frying.
With my order in, (I cannot divulge what-.my doctor may read this) I stood back and waited..
All of a sudden a man came lumbering through the door. I thought he was going to yell, "call 911", or rush to the rest room.
Instead he brushed past me, flat-handed the counter, and didn’t yell, but-it was a very loud voice that turned the heads of everyone in the place. "GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK! I have been waiting out there for TEN minutes!"
To make my point, I have to describe him. Age is hard to tell, but I would guess around early 40's. His hair was askew, dirty tennis shoes untied, black sweat pants and green sweat shirt not meeting, leaving a space for his girth to show. It was not any of my business, but he looked like he should have been eating more of my soup, and less fast food.
He was ugly. It was not the physical appearance that made him ugly. It was the "I’m ready to kill someone" look on his face. He was so mad he was almost snorting.
He waited for several minutes like that. I didn’t want to lose my good mood, and as long as he was so over the top, I thought he might as well give him a little boost. I said, "You may have to wait ten minutes for your money." He said, "I BETTER NOT." And flat-handed the counter again.
The manager came with his refund. He looked like he was about twelve years old. The kid flipping the burgers looked like his kid brother. I felt bad for him.
The guy lumbered out the way he came in- ugly mad and ugly attitude.
When my order came up, he (the manager) said, ‘Sorry, ma’am for the wait." I hadn’t waited long at all. The poor kid just wanted to cover all his bases.
.
It just so happened that same afternoon I had a bad experience with a business ( in Madison) that was much more serious than waiting for a burger.
I got the names of the employees I was going to complain about. I found out the name of the supervisor in the company to contact.. With phone in hand, and email open, I was more than ready to be ugly.
Then, for some reason I simmered down. I changed the tone of my email and only named the employees who had helped. I strongly suggested that everyone in the office should be so helpful as the ones named.
In the long run, I helped myself more than anyone else.. I might not have felt pretty. But I sure didn’t feel ugly. And that is a good feeling.
The fast food was good and what I needed at the time. Now, I’m back to soup. As much as I make soup, this is my daughter Deb’s recipe. I make it, but not as good as she does.
Deb’s Cheddar Chowder with Bacon or Clams
you will need:
3 cups water
3 chicken bouillon cubes
5 medium potatoes, diced
1 med onion, chopped
1 ½ cups dices carrots
½ cup green pepper
1/3 cup butter
1/3 cup flour
3 ½ cups milk
4 cups cheddar cheese1
1 jar diced pimento-optional
1/4 t hot sauce
l pound chopped, fried, drained bacon 0R 3 cans drained clams
Bring water and bouillon to a boil
Add vegetables; simmer until tender
Melt butter in saucepan and make roux by blending in flour.
Cook one minute. Add milk, stir and cook until thickened
Stir in cheddar cheese. Add hot sauce (and pimentos)
Add cheese sauce to vegetables
Simmer, but don’t boil
Add clams or bacon
Don’t count calories on this healthy one. Just serve and enjoy!
P.S. Any seafood can be used.

snow, soup, and sandwiches

2007-03-01T17:54:00.000-06:00

from shirley's cottage

Snow, Soup and Sandwiches
I still love to see a beautiful snow. I know this winter has brought a ton of snow to different parts of the country. And with it tons of problems. But a snow without chilling winds or ice, is a beauty to behold. Especially if you don’t have to go out.
That was my situation this past week-end. I paid attention to the weather reports for a change. I shopped with the masses at the grocery store, waited in line for gas, and tried to find a couple of good movies on the almost-bare shelves at the video store,
I was not disappointed when I peeked out in the morning and there was about seven inches of snow covering everything, including my car. My young neighbor, Mike, plowed me out as best he could around my car. (Seven inches the first day, and seven plus in spots the next.) I really appreciate him and his plow.
However, I stayed in the cottage those two days. I read and cooked. I fought the urge to do things that needed doing, IE, laundry, painting, getting my taxes together.
I watched the food network, looked up some recipes on-line, browsed through some cookbooks. With all the recipes I found, I still went back to the comfort food of my mom and grandma.
There were several soups in the making.. It sounds corny, I know, but if you cook with love, it turns out better. That includes not always being in a hurry to make 30 minute meals. (Although they do have their place, like after work when the kids are screaming, and dad is on his way home for dinner.)
I use a bay leaf in most dishes with several ingredients. Do not underestimate the importance of one little bay leaf. Especially in soups, stews, and sauerkraut and pork. (Good bay leaves are not cheap, but are used sparingly, and are worth it.)
My mom said if you have an onion and butter, you can make anything taste good. Even though I am accused of having a heavy hand when it comes to onions, I agree with my mom.
There is no such thing as a bad grilled sandwich. Don’t just grill cheese and Rubens. . Have you ever tried grilled chicken, tuna, or ham salad? Good.
On my snowy week-end in the cottage, there were grilled sandwiches, and soup. There is something relaxing and a feeling of accomplishment about making home-made soup.
I made beet soup, served with sour cream, and kale soup. Back to my ethnic dishes.
I started making more things from scratch because last fall I took a few classes at the hospital concerning nutrition. Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t have. Now I am almost obsessed to read all the ingredients when shopping. It’s really a bummer. There are not many things that do not have corn syrup, fructose, and/or MSG, and the long list of preservatives. Even my favorite Swanson’s and College Inn Broths, are loaded with MSG, etc.
When I found out my favorite soup base also had all of that and more, I decided to make my own. The first pleasant surprise was, it wasn’t that hard or time-consuming. The second thing was that taste buds had to change. The flavors are more subtle, and at first taste "flat". But as I experimented with some herbs, fresh and dried, the real flavors came out.
The same base can be made for all kinds of soups. It can be added to your chicken broth (from the chicken you cooked with your own loving hands), soup bone, or just plain vegetable
stock. Make it and freeze it. It can be one of your 30 minute meals on a busy, snowy, day.
Home-made Soup Stock
you will need:
six carrots, unpeeled, cut into one inch pieces
two onions, cut in half
4 celery stalks, including tops
2-3 cloves garlic
2 quarts water
salt and pepper
Simmer all for several hours until vegetables are cooked down
add water if necessary
Strain broth
Mash vegetables in strainer into broth to get full flavor.
Discard veggies
Freeze if you are not going to make soup soon.
Next week some of our favorite soups that we Enjoy!

when I was a kid

2007-02-22T21:40:00.000-06:00

Hi all
I finally got on to my own blog. The love and hate with computers. Anyway, here is this week's column. I thought of so many things I could have said, but it is only a little column. Most people in my little town like the recipes better, I think.

One thing I was thinking about was how we remember so differently, ie my sister and I (or is it me?) I do know she always wanted a horse. If I had known how much, I would have put my loud mouth to work.

Next week? See you

When I was a kid......
It doesn’t take much to for me to get to remembering what was, and reminisce when I was a kid. What got me thinking about a whole lot a things was the book I told you
about last week: hallelujah! the welcome table. A lifetime of memories with recipes, by Maya Angelou. With every recipe, she has a little chapter about her life.
As I read, I was reminded of times from my childhood. Even though she is older (and wiser), and we differ in every way from finances to race, I was hooked. As I read, I say my youth before me and my own memories took over.
I saw my bigger-than-life dad sitting at the dinner table, (there were no TV trays-heck there was no TV) pointing at my sister, Donna, and me, with one of his "When I was a kid," examples. It could have been anything from he having to walk miles to school in knee-high snow, to his nickel a week allowance for slave labor.
My sister and I would just roll our eyes. Little did we know we would be using the same words several decade later to our own kids.
I take it back about not having a TV. We did get one when I was fourteen, just going into high school. We were the only ones in the neighborhood to have one. All the neighborhood kids would come over, hoping it wasn’t "too snowy" and we could see a picture. The only television station was WGN out of Chicago. On a good night we got a fair picture.
It was black and white. Our first color was a piece of colored plastic that was placed in front of the screen.
But most of the time the center of our entertainment was the big Philco radio and phonograph console. On Saturday nights our favorite program was Gunsmoke. William Conrad was Matt Dillon.
On Saturday mornings the phonograph would be playing our favorite 78 records while we cleaned the house. Johnnie Ray with his "Little White Cloud That Cried" was my favorite until my dad allowed us to listen to Elvis.
We played a lot of hop-scotch and jump-roping. We liked to jump double-Dutch with two ropes.
We did not walk miles to school in knee-deep snow. But we did walk four blocks to grade school. We even came home for lunch.
Memories are not always good. I prefer to remember the good times and let the bad ones fade. And make new ones every day.

I wonder what my grandkids will say to their kids. Maybe something like, "When I was a kid cars had wheels and there were no space ships to take us to Mars on vacation."
By that time I will be a just a memory. A good one, I hope.
But while I’m still here, I will still be cooking on my old gas stove. With this trip down memory lane, I’ll have to choose something from my mom’s Lithuanian Cookbook. It’s tattered and has notes and hints written in my mother’s hand- and stained from being perched on the counter-top. Just like a cookbook should look that is full of wonderful memories.
One thing there was not years ago was prepared foods. Cooking was done from scratch. I like the convenience of prepared ingredient. Some of them are better than Grandma used to make. Sometimes, though, you just have to get back to your roots, and do it from scratch.
Real potato pancakes are not made with mashed or shredded potatoes, or from a box. My memory does not fail me when I think of how good my mom’s potato pancakes tasted.
Potato Pancakes from Popular Lithuanian Recipes
you will need:
a hot frying pan with bacon grease or oil
Do you have a cast iron pan?
7-8 potatoes, peeled and grated (older ones are better)
2 eggs, well beaten
2 T flour
salt and pepper to taste
Mix all ingredients. Drop by spoonfuls into hot fat, fry each side until brown and crisp at the edges.
Serve with sour cream and/or applesauce.
Enjoy!

yes, i love you

2007-02-13T18:06:00.000-06:00

And Happy Valentine's Day to all

Okay, I love you
I was sitting on the chair by the TV. He was sitting at one end of the couch, she at the other end. He avoided eye contact with me, although I could see his eyes straining to see me without turning his head. She was face front, staring me down.
He is good-looking with beautiful eyes that change from green to hazel. She is pretty, and has almond-shaped green eyes with yellow flecks.
At this moment, their attractiveness did not stop my being angry. I was getting tired of this scene.
"What’s the matter with you two?". My loud voice startled them and they jumped off the couch. "You know you aren’t supposed to be on the furniture. You guys get dog and cat hair all over."
He immediately went to the back door waiting to go out, still not looking at me. Dogs are like that when they get busted.
She, on the other hand, hi-tailed it under my bed. Because of a bed ruffle, I never know she’s there. She’s a sneaky one. Cats are like that.
Sundance, the yellow lab, and Nookers, the calico cat, are not mine. Or, they didn’t start out that way. Because of circumstance and family moves, (except for me who stays put) the cottage inherited them.
I am not the one in the family who just loves animals, and has to have a dog or two around. There was several years when the kids were growing up, we had three dogs at once.
I got so attached , when they were gone, I said, no more.
Several years ago when I moved to the cottage, the kids said, "Mom needs a dog so she won’t be lonely." I told them they dared not do that. I was not lonely and I did not want a dog. I figured I had paid my doggie dues..
So they did not get me a dog. They just kept bringing theirs to visit, to stay.
One thing I always insisted on was no cats. That didn’t work, either.
However, this calico is not a regular cat. She was a stray that my grandson gave to my son several years ago. She knows the ways of the outdoors.
Except when she got stuck under the neighbor’s crawlspace. I admit we worried when she was gone for three days.
So here I am, living with a dog and a cat who love to get on the furniture.
After I let Sundance in, and Nookers came out from her hiding place, .I collapsed into my chair. It had been a long day. All I wanted to do was watch some mindless TV. Now they both sat on Sundance’s pillow, this time both looking straight at me.
I looked straight at them. What a pair. "Okay, you two. I love you. But stay off of the furniture.!"
Boy, I need a hobby or something.
I guess that something will be to read one of my cookbooks. I got hooked on cookbooks a few years ago. For Christmas I received Maya Angelo’s book that is more than a cookbook. It is autobiographical, some history, and full of family recipes: hallelujah, the welcome table. (a lifetime of memories with recipes.)

Smoked Pork Chops
you will need:
4 large SMOKED pork chops
1 t oil
1 t butter
2 Granny Smith apples, diced
one 8 oz crushed pineapple, drained
1 t brown sugar
1/8 t each cinnamon and nutmeg
hot water
Place oil and chops in skillet
pour hot water over chops and simmer for 10 minutes
Remove chops, pat dry, and place in baking dish
In small pan, saute apples and add the rest of the ingredients
Cook until most of liquid is gone
Cover chops with mixture
Cover baking dish and bake for 20 minutes at 350
Uncover and bake for 20 minutes more.
Serve with mashed potatoes and fried cabbage.
A good ethnic meal. Enjoy.

from shirley's cottage

2007-02-08T18:47:00.000-06:00

Roses are red, Violets are blue

Happy Valentines’s Day to you. (A few days early.)
My niece Corri called me last week-end and said she had an idea for my column. She wrote one a while back, and would write more, except she is one busy gal with her family. She is a school teacher, and going to school herself for more degrees. If any of you are teachers, you know your work is not done at 3:10.
She said maybe I could pick up on the Valentine thing, and write about hearts in different ways, and end with a heart-healthy recipe. Since the only thing on my mind was the cold weather, I told her I would give it a try.
A million years ago, when I was in grade school, we made valentine’s boxes. I don’t know if the kids still make them. I hope so. I loved making the hearts out of construction paper. You couldn’t miss making a heart if you folded the paper in half.
You brought valentine’s for everyone-even the kids you didn’t like. Moms would bring the frosted valentine cookies, washed down with Kool-aid, red of course.
(I just saw on the news that there is one school, maybe more, that wouldn’t allow cookies. They could bring string cheese, or granola, etc.) Give me a break. It isn’t the one cookie that is making our kids heavy.
Things didn’t change when my kids were in school. They would make their valentine boxes and come home with as many valentines as they gave. They got their cookies and Kool-aid, too.
As they grew up, I would call them my sweethearts and give them a little gift. They are still my sweethearts, but I quit giving valentines when they started giving to their own. I think this is a good year to start again.
Today I got a valentine from my chiropractor. It was part business, but knowing him, I know his heart is in the right place. And it was nice to get a valentine in the mail.
Even though I suppose the day was started by Hallmark or some company wanting to sell chocolates, flowers, or cards, Valentine’s day serves a purpose: a chance to think about love, about heart, about eating CHOCOLATE!
I can’t talk about hearts and flowers without talking about my husband. He was practical, not romantic. He always said he didn’t know what to get. It was a cop-out. He would give the girls some money and say, "Here, go get your mother something nice." But I knew where his heart was. That was all that really mattered.
I chose my wedding date as close to Valentine’s Day as I could. Back then, Saturdays were the only days for weddings. Today I remember my sweetheart with love and wish we could have been together for our 50th anniversary tomorrow. But, that’s okay. I know where my heart is. That is all that really matters.
Chocolate and heart healthy. This might just be the ticket. It’s from my favorite Weight Watcher’s Cookbook, Simply the Best. No one will know if you don’t tell them this is just 99 calories, (2 points), 1 gram of fat, and only 16 carbs. And, it tastes good.
Chocolate Amaretto Cheesecake
you will need;
a springform pan, sprayed
6 2 ½ inch chocolate graham crackers, made into squares
2 ½ cups part-skim ricotta cheese
4 ounces nonfat cream cheese
½ cup sugar
1/4 cup cocoa
1 egg
3 T flour
1 t real vanilla
2 T chocolate chips
3 T Amaretto liqueur (optional, but then you have to change the name)
Sprinkle graham cracker crumbs evenly over bottom of pan.
In blender or processor, puree the rest of the ingredients except chocolate chips
Stir in chips
pour mixture over crumbs
Bake at 300 until knife comes out clean, about 1 ½ hours.
Cool completely on rack
Cover and refrigerate for three hours.
Guilt free and good! Enjoy.

from shirley's cottage

2007-02-05T07:26:00.000-06:00

"Oh Boy! I’m in Illinois"
The phone rang Saturday evening. I heard,"Oh boy, I’m in Illinois." It might not seem like a big deal, especially Wisconsin. It is a big deal, though, when it is your daughter, and she and her family are back home.
The exodus started many years ago. The siblings left home when they were ready. (Or thought they were ready)
Deb was the first. She went to Arizona. It was a short jaunt. She discovered quickly that her heart was at the lake. So in the end she went from one home to another, 62 miles away..
Tracy’s love affair with Florida lasted for seventeen years, with a stint in Indiana before bringing her home.
Ted’s love of horses, mountains, and fly fishing took him to Colorado. Twice. And back for good.
They did not come home to Mama. They have their own homes and lives. But I am happy Mama is here.
After I got off the phone, my eye hit a framed counted cross-stitch Deb had made a long time ago. All the girls are crafty, taking after Gram. Any of that talent skipped a generation with me. So I am especially sentimental with anything they or Gram have done.
This one has decorated my walls over the years, as I struggled with the empty nest:

I love you enough to let you run
but far too much to let you fly
even if you ride home on a rainbow
until you reappeared
there’s always be
the chance that you
might not come riding
home at all.:

I didn’t let them fly. They had to try out their wings on their own I am happy to say the rainbow did reappear and finally they all came riding home.
Welcome home Kelly, Doug, Paige and Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.
Now when we get together we have a full crew. Then Mama happily goes back to the kitchen. Soon it will be time to think about what to take on the pontoon. For now, the snow and cold call for comfort and warmth. And remembering what everyone likes. Chicken works.
It has been a long time since I made this. I don’t remember who I got it from. I wrote it on a small note card. It’s still waiting to be copied and filed. Probably not in my lifetime.
Let’s just call it-Shirley’s Chicken Bake
Assemble the day ahead and refrigerate
you will need:
a well-greased 9x13 pan
8 slices Italian bread, crusts off
8 slices cheddar cheese
8 slices Swiss cheese
8 slices deli ham
3 cups sliced chicken
1 can mushrooms (or 8 oz fresh, cooked and drained)
4 eggs beaten with 2 ½ cups milk
1 T Worchetshire sauce
½ cup seasoned bread crumbs
for the sauce:
one large can Campbell’s Mushroom soup
8 oz sour cream
Mixed together and heated
line pan with bread
layer the cheddar, chicken, Swiss, and ham
Top with mushrooms
Pour the milk and egg mixture over everything and refrigerate overnight
Sprinkle top with bread crumbs
Bake at 350 for one hour
Cut into squares and serve with sauce.
Enjoy!

from shirley's cottage

2007-01-23T06:40:00.000-06:00

Watch out for thin ice
Last winter some of the local folks got a big laugh out of two Illinois guys that went through the ice on the lake. It was funny because they were from Illinois. If they had been from Wisconsin, they would have known better.
I beg to differ. Stupid is as stupid does, and it "don’t make no difference" where you are from. If I remember right, I told of the doctor from Madison who went through the ice on Lake Monona walking to work.
The kind of weather we have had this winter has tempted many to hurry the ice.
The other day I was waiting for an appointment. A woman sitting next to me started talking about the crazy winter we were having.
She said her husband had "itchy pants" waiting to get some ice on the lake. His couldn’t wait to get his shack out there, and his tip-ups going. I said I hope he makes sure the ice is thick enough. She said she doubted it. Every year she thinks he may take a winter swim.
I don’t know her name, but as far as I know, no one has gone through on Lake Ripley-yet.
But there are a lot of lakes in southern Wisconsin that can’t claim that.
Just this week the news told of a snowmobiler. It was on Lake Waubesa. It seems the guy went through thin ice, but his machine didn’t. He got out before help came. So what did he do? Well, heck, he got on again and gave it another try. This time he and his machine went in. This time help was there and got him out.
There was one of a fishing shack and some ice-skaters on various lakes with thin ice.
Dumb moves, but in the end, no harm done. There are several others I heard about I don’t want to repeat. They didn’t end happily.
I understand the itchy pants-can’t wait to do something you love to do. But if that something involves ice on a lake, I have a piece of unsolicited advice.
If one day the geese are swimming in open water, and there is just a little frost around the edges, and the next day it snows and freezes–don’t go snowmobiling, ice fishing, or skating!
That’s what happened last week. One day I was watching the waves and the geese, and the next day I saw tracks and foot prints on the lake’s snow.
Maybe I’m just a little envious because I am in a different place. Nowadays, my enjoyment of the snow and ice, is looking out my window at the beauty.
Well, like my mom always said: "each to their own." Just make sure "your own" keeps you safe.
Inside or outside, the snowy days call for soups, stews, and yummy deserts.
My forte is not baking. I do have a few stand-by’s though, that are pretty safe. As long as I can rely somewhat on Duncan Hines, Betty Crocker, or Pillsbury, I do pretty well.
This one my niece Barbara called Monkey Bread. The recipe os the same except she baked hers in a bundt pan. I haven’t thought of it for years.
This recipe is in my favorite cook book and it is called Pecan Bubble Bread. Whatever you call it, it is never fail, and is just as good for breakfast as it is a treat at night.
Pecan Bubble Bread
you will need;
a very well-greased 9x13 pan
2 cans biscuits, cut into quarters (cheap ones work just as well)
1 stick butter or margarine
1 cup light brown sugar
2 T water
1 t cinnamon
1 cup chopped pecans
Melt the rest of the ingredients in a skillet (except for the nuts)
Put biscuits in a greased bowl
pour melted mixture over biscuits and mix well
Sprinkle nuts in bottom of pan and pour batter on top
Bake 375 degrees for 20 minutes
Invert on platter and break apart to eat.
Sticky, but good. Enjoy!

from shirley's cottage

2007-01-15T20:34:00.000-06:00

It was Saturday and Snowing
It was Saturday. I looked outside. It was snowing and it was beautiful. Snowmobiling weather. I called our friends who thought they might come up and ride if it snowed. "It’s snowing," I said. Get yourselves up here.
I got out all the paraphernalia that it takes to go riding: warm sox and mitts, snowmobile suit, helmet, face mask, scarf, etc. My outfit was a hoot.
My husband bought my white Cat jacket and my helmet. He never bought my clothes, but he loved that crazy helmet:.black plush with a bill, and a pom- pom on the top. "Nuff said. I wore it, and it provoked a lot of comments.
Clothes were ready. How about the machines. They were all ready except for mine. The handlebars were a little loose. No big deal. My Arctic Cat Panther was the oldest, but it started right up, and I felt comfortable with it.
I put the roaster in the oven so we would have a meal when we came home, wet, tired and hungry.
Off we went on a poker run. What fun. Everyone does not snowmobile, nor wants to. But I can’t imagine any adult who rides that has not been on a poker run. If not, you may want to try it.
You start at one place, (ok, a bar) take a card, go on to the next place and take a card, and so on until you get to the fifth place. Whoever has the winning poker hand wins.
You don’t have to drink to play, and I don’t consider this form of poker, gambling. If it is, oh, well. So is buying a lottery ticket.
On the way to the last card, the thing I had feared, happened. My loose handlebars came totally off the snowmobile.
My husband passed me up, and I held up my handlebars. He yelled through his facemask, "I can’t stop. I have a winning hand."
That was a Saturday in January, somewhere in the mid-70's. The year is not important. The memory is.
It is Saturday. I looked outside. It is snowing and it is beautiful. It is 2007. And the memory of all those other snowy Saturdays is beautiful, too.

The snowmobiles are gone. The heavy snows we used to have are gone. Some of the players are gone.
As I look out my window, and one lone snowmobile hums down the lake road, I remember that last poker run, when I was the winner.
What was in that roaster when we got home? Nothing fancy. Just the roast and vegetables that was our usual traditional Sunday dinner, made a day ahead...
Sunday Chuck Roast with Vegetables
you will need:
a four to five pound chuck roast (it has to be a chuck-for the marbling, for the flavor)
6 to 8 white potatoes, peel and quartered
one pound carrots peeled (real, not the baby packaged ones)
3 4 onions, quartered
3-4 celery stalks, cut into pieces
a firm medium cabbage, cut into wedges
Gravy Master
salt and pepper to taste
Brown chuck in a hot frying pan with a little oil
Brown until there is no raw in middle
Removed from pan and set aside
put vegetables in roaster with a little water
cover and bake at 350 until the meat is added.
put a cup or so of water into frying pan with a T of Gravy Master
Scrape drippings
Slice roast on diagonal
Put meat in roaster sort of under the vegetables
Pour drippings from frying pan over the vegetables and meat
Cover and bake at 275 for two hours or so until vegetables are done and meat is tender.
Guaranteed to be the best roast you ever made.
Enjoy!

from shirley's cottage

2007-01-12T11:35:00.000-06:00

Sorry Bill

Girls, Girls, Girls
Several months ago I wrote about the men in my life-not in my family, but guys who make a difference in my life on a day to day basis. Today it is the girls.
Funny, when I typed the title, it didn’t even occur to me to say women. When I did the piece on men, it didn’t even occur to me to say boys. I don’t know what that says, except maybe boys can’t wait to be men, and girls want to be girls as long as they can. I know I do.
There are girls, women, gals, whatever you want to call them, who are part of my life everyday. Some I come into contact with are stinkers, but they are in the minority. I prefer to focus on the nice ones.
I am not trying to chalk up any points with my editor (but it wouldn’t hurt) to say a word about her first. In the almost three years I have written for the News, I have not heard her say an unkind word, or raise her voice. Her emails are always encouraging and her feedback is positive. She is a very nice girl.
I had gone to the new chiropractor in town several months ago. Dr. Matt was on my list of the men in my life. He got his nice from his secretary. Helpful and caring.
Buying groceries is not always the most pleasant task. Abby at the Pig special orders for me, and is always cheery.
.
Marge has been my neighbor for over 42 years. She is the age my mom would have been. Socially she runs circles around me. She can be feisty when need be, but to me she has always been a jewel.
I was in the doctor’s office the other day. I have seen Kay about town numerous times over the years. But we really don’t know each other, or travel in the same circles. Still, she took the time to tell me she reads my column and enjoys it. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? Well, it means a lot to me.
Speaking of doctors. My doctor takes her Hippocratic Oath seriously. And is always nice while doing it. If my mom was here, I can just hear her,(who had many, many doctors in her lifetime) say, "Now that is one hell of a gal." I totally agree.
I can go on. There are a lot of you, and you make my day. I can’t mention everybody, but I want to say thanks for the smile, thanks for the kind words, thanks for just knowing being nice can sure make a difference. I will try to pass it on.
And don’t forget to be nice to yourself. You are worth it.

As long as we are talking nice, I have a nice and easy recipe for you when you are in a hurry, and need to feed people.
Gram would throw this together in fifteen minutes when I would "drop in" with four hungry kids in tow.
Gram’s Goulash
you will need:
One pound macaroni shells or bow ties, cooked and drained
one pound hamburger, browned and drained
one medium diced onion, sauteed
one small diced green pepper, sauteed (optional)
one 16 oz can mushrooms, drained
two cans Campbell’s Tomato Soup
a cup or so of catsup
one stick butter, melted
a little water if necessary
salt and pepper to taste
Mix all together in a large frying pan
Simmer until hot
In those days, she served with white squishy bread and butter.
Enjoy

from shirley's cottage

2007-01-01T14:07:00.001-06:00

Hi
I wanted to say Happy Birthda to my family in my column. This is the last of the four. I may do the grandkids, maybe not. I got Maya Angelou's book, hallelujah, the welcome table. It is much more than recipes. I want to write like she does when I grow up.

It’s Your Turn, Tracy
In the past several months I have written my column saying Happy Birthday to my adult kids. Adults, yes, but still my kids. Tracy is the youngest of the three sisters,
In those days there were no miracle x-rays to tell you if you were having a boy or girl. You waited and wished. I will admit I was thinking boy. You know, they say guys want sons, the family name goes on, all that kind of stuff. I bought into it, too, thinking I would like to give my husband a boy. What a nerd I was. I had nothing to do with it. Everyone had something to say, except my husband, Ted, Sr.
He never said a word about maybe having another girl, or getting a son.. For those that knew him, it was no surprise. He was a person of few words.
Well, anyway, when the waiting was over and our beautiful new baby girl was lying in my arms, wrapped in her pink receiving blanket, her dad walked into the hospital room..
I said, "I know you wanted a boy." He leaned over and lightly rubbed her cheek. He simply said, "Boy. Girl. What’s the difference,"
I don’t know if that little baby knew that his touch showed how much he loved his third daughter. I like to think so. I know she is the one that is more like him in so many ways.
They all grew so fast. It seemed like only yesterday I was watching them walk off to school, dressed alike in blue plaid jumpers and white blouses, the uniform of St. Rita’s School.. Except for kid brother, Teddy, who had to wear blue pants with his white shirt and tie.
One day when Tracy was about ten years old, she came home from school and said she was going to go to Florida. One of the public schools was sponsoring a trip to Disney World. Of course we said no. She was just a little girl, not knowing anyone from that school, not even the teachers..
Besides, there was not a "send my ten-year-old to Florida " piggy bank in our house. She reminded us she would be eleven by the time she went, and she would earn her own money..
.
I still don’t know why we let her go. It was a tribute to her determination. When she got home after a fairy-tale trip, she said, "I’m going to live in Florida someday."
And she did. She’s the one who packed up her little blue Datsun, and headed south. She was 18.
. Sixteen years later, she came back to stay. It was a bittersweet homecoming. Her dad was ill. She left her life in the Florida she loved and came home. To be with him. To be with us.
Tracy has always been one to take in strays: people, dogs, anyone who needs a shoulder to cry on, or a pat on the head. Over the years she has opened her home, (and ours) to both.
Dogs! She has two, would like more. Her Golden is the one who ate all my tomatoes that I was going to can. He also eats remote controls, cell phones, and eyeglasses. Never mind. She loves her dogs, incorrigible Dru and sweet little Asa.
Christmas Eve was at her home this year. Her sister kept warning her not to wait until the last minute to get things done. We could help. "No, thanks," she answered. She was fine.
Everyone was expected about seven. She came into the kitchen at 5:30, arms full of groceries and packages, saying, "Don’t freak out. I’ll be ready." I just shook my head.
Of course everything turned out, as it always does, but later I had to say something. "Mom," she said, "you know I dance to a different drummer." You sure do, my daughter.
I love your beat. I love you. We all love you. Happy Birthday.
When Tracy was a kid, she was the one who made the cookies, especially at Christmas. Maybe that is why I can’t bake a cookie to this day. But, I can make a fairly decent cake if I keep it simple. I’ll try and turn this one into a birthday cake.
Chocolate Cherry Cake
from the tattered yellow recipes of Gram’s
you will need:
1 box Betty Crocker fudge cake mix
2 well beaten eggs
1 can cherry pie filling
1 T almond extract
Add cake mix to eggs,
stir in pie filling and extract
Pour in 9x13 greased pan, (or two layer round if you are going to frost)
Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes
Frost or serve with real whipped cream and ice cream
Enjoy

from shirley's cottage

2007-01-01T14:07:00.000-06:00