On the Coast

It was on the coast.  

That’s where they met.  

It was that place, where the sugar white sand met the turquoise of the warm, silky ocean.  That is where it all began.  

She, marking time for the summer.  He, parlaying his wares to those who sought solace, or fun, in the sea.  She spied what he sold, and it was definitely different from what she had ever tried before . . .  but this was her time.  Her time to challenge.  Her time to challenge herself.  To do something unlike anything she’d ever, attempted before.  

She saw him.  

Was drawn to where he stood.  In front of where he plied his trade.  Where there were colorful, pretty, stringy things . . . along with the ugly, stinky, squirmy things. Hooks, poles, foreign things.  She concentrated on the the colorful, pretty, stringy things. If only to still her heart at the sight of him.  

She was drawn to his eyes, and maybe his forearms . . .  His eyes.  The shape.  The color.  They were a shade of green, not made to compete with the green of the sea, but instead mirroring the green of the mountain stream.  The green of the forest. They felt cool and refreshing in spite of the humid, balmy air of the tropics.  As his eyes stayed on her . . . the feeling remained with her.  He appeared to be more than willing to assist her with her purchases. Laughing along with her, at her naivete regarding her new found sport.  Even as he completed her transaction, she knew she would be back for more of the colorful, pretty, stringy things.  Even, if she had to lose everything she’d bought, every day, in order to have an excuse to come back.  And look at those eyes.

She thanked him for the gracious advice he gave, and slowly danced her way to the surf. Surreptitiously glancing back every few steps, shyly, yet boldly, in that quiet, yet confident way of hers. Most definitely, in no hurry. As she cast about in the waves which found their way to the shore, lapping at the sands, she knew.  Even though it might defy convention, she knew she had experienced something in those moments that was to stay with her, forever.  It was already changing her.  This time of renewal, this time of rebirth long after her life was first given, was the right time.  It was time for THIS afternoon to happen. Time for this new life.

As the day, died in the west, she gathered her new toys, and trailed down the remote beach to her cottage, her long awaited-for but temporary home.  The solitude whispered a new, welcome song in her ear.  

This was right.  

This was good. 

This was full of promise.  

Something was astir in the warm, humid air, and the breeze coming in off the ocean knew it.  Delivering radiant hope, healing to her heart.

And yet . . . something unsettled, as the mysterious elements which assemble into the makings of a hurricane, was fashioning itself into something mysterious within him.

And while she might know about the minds of many, but could not know the thoughts of one.  But hoped she might have the chance to one day . . . know.

On the coast.

The days went by.  Slowly, like lustrous pearls being slid onto a waxed string.  Sliding, next to one other, growing into a lengthy, precious creation.  Luxurious gems, reflecting newfound light.  Brightening the lives . . . of two.  

Each day, something “accidentally lost”.  Each day, a new purchase made.  Each day, a smile given.  Settling into a sensuous rhythm known and loved by only them.  

Even after he closed up the small but special shop, she would continue battling the surf for that one beautiful fish, that someday she was sure to catch, given the wealth of gear she’d amassed in order to land that fish.  ;-) After a time, he began to join her in the evening surf to watch.  To study.  To listen to her.  To encourage.  And to simply enjoy her.  And she, him . . . very much. The fish meant nothing. While he, meant everything. 

One sunset kissed evening, with ribbons of colors drifting and dancing in the sky above the water and caressing the sand, after what seemed like an eternity, yet was only a moment, there was a pull on the line.  At her excited shriek, he joined her, coaching her on how to reel in the fish.  It was indeed a fight, one filled with splashing and laughter, but was a fight the fish lost.  For he and she, all was gain. 

The silver fish glittered in the evening sun, but all she could see, was the joy . . . in his eyes . . . as he watched her land her first catch.  With all of that gear. The smile on his face, reaching deep down into her heart.  It was all she saw, it was all she felt. Nothing else mattered, there was nothing else TO matter. 

And while she might know about the minds of many, she could not know the thoughts of one.  But hoped she might have the chance, to one day . . . know.

On the coast.

Time passed.  Days, like the proverbial sands, filled the glass.  Time brought them together in ways nothing else could.  It was beautiful, ethereal, defying adequate expression using mere language.  Full of promise.  Full of love.  Full of hope.  Full of the future.  Full of each other.

Evenings brought interludes of love on the solitary beach, bare, sun-kissed bodies wrapped in love, caressed by the warmth of the sun and silkiness of the ocean.  Words of love spoken in awe of what passed between them.  The intensity of their love matched only by the pounding of a world of powerful oceans colliding with the sand of the beach.  Kisses given in utter abandonment, and a coming together in a union more blessed than the world by dawn.

It was the start of a life.

And then . . . the shadows.  Out of a place called nowhere.

Shadows.  She noticed shadows.  A shadow there, but not quite.  Imagined?  Real?  A slight darkening of the sun, instilling a fear into the brightness of the day. Brief, but there.

The shadows passing back and forth in his eyes.  Sometimes alighting there, shifting and moving on. Then . . . settling there.  A veiling.  Almost as if there was this . . . haze.  A haze, blocking out the sunshine but it was so very slight, you were never quite sure it was there or not.

Yet.  Each day brought buckets of laughter.  Each day brought fun in the surf.  Each night brought love on the sand. But each day also brought something indiscernible.  Something not defined.  But there.  On the surface, he appeared the same.  But when souls have been together as such, the soul knows.  The soul feels the disturbance. The heart has a sensitive richter, registering the ever so slight, but real movement. Movement away from the quiet, from the line of normal, perceptible but not obvious when ones eyes are veiled with a haze one isn’t aware is present.

And while she might know about the minds of many, she could not know the thoughts of one.  But hoped and prayed she might have the chance, to one day . . . know.

And it gets dark.

On the coast.

And the day comes.  When darkness falls.  Total.  Deep.  Suffocating. Blinding.  There is no sun.  There is no place he parlays his wares on the white sugar sand beach where it meets the warm, turquoise water.  For he is gone.  

To where?  She knows not.  Because she knows not the thoughts of one. Nor shockingly, had she ever.

But pearls of this time, have not been gathered to be scattered to the waves, to be lost.  They had been collected and gathered into something beautiful, over time.  Pearls are the small irritants that the sea creature has taken and covered with beauty, treating it with care, until it is something of worth, priceless, a treasure.  Not to be released easily, but to be given great care. Be protected, fought for, searched for when lost.

She searches in the darkness, no map before her.  Walking up and down the beach, searching, calling his name.  She sees him.  Lost?  He looks . . . lost.  There is no light, no recognition, in his amazing green-as-the-stream eyes.  

Where has he gone?  Where has she gone?  In his eyes, instead of her, there reigns confusion.  She speaks, he hears her not her voice, he feels not her heart.  She reaches, he falls away.  She longs to unlock the mysteries of the veil.  But he retreats.  And passes.  As if he knows her not.  

So, she settles on the sand.  That as he walks away, he might somehow remember where he left her. That when the veil is pierced by understanding, he will know how to find her.  He can find her by the trail of pearls she has carefully placed in the sand, that leads back to where she is.  

She has knowledge of the shadows that crease his soul and cover his eyes.  And while she might know about the minds of many, she could not know the thoughts of one.  But hoped and prayed she might have the chance, one day, to know, to know his heart.  

And it is still dark.

On the coast.

She sits on the sand, holding in her hand, a key.  A key fashioned during many hours of painstaking effort, collecting countless moments of sharing and loving and laughter and joining that have poured through her hands, fashioning this key.  As she watches him search for what will restore his sight, she silently prays that he will realize that if he will only ask her to help him find what robs him of his sight, they might discover what the key unlocks . . . together.  To free the shadows that cover his mind . . . and his heart.

Because what she might know about the minds of many, may be able to help them both to know the thoughts . . . of one.

And so.  She waits.  

On the coast of somewhere beautiful, she waits with her heart.

The Power of Words

Both spoken and unspoken.

There is infinite power in words.

They are used to hurt and hide:

     "I haven't loved you in months." (even though he told me he did)

     "Your definition of intimacy is apparently different than mine."

They are used to denigrate value:

     "The way you feel is wrong."

Words are also used to project the owners feelings onto one whom it does not apply:

     "You lack the commitment to make this work because of time and distance."

They are used to justify physical abuse:

     "If you would just shut up and do what I say, this wouldn't happen."

The absence of words is just as powerful, and send an unspoken message.  A picture, an action, is worth a thousand words.  To absolve oneself of responsibility:

     Communication and honesty are only essential if you mattered to me.

     You are okay enough when I'm between women I really want.

     Good-bye.

The spoken and unspoken.

Today, a word was used that made my day positively radiate, and created a smile that reached to the very core of my being . . . to my heart.  My friend probably did not even possess a clue as to the value the word would have.  In the signing-off of a message, a friend called me princess.  

Princess.  

That one word had the ability to wipe away pain caused by so many others who do not know, in their hearts, this divine wisdom:

"Therefore encourage one anther and build each other up,  just as in fact you are doing.  1 Thess. 5:11

How will you use your words today?  Or how will you use your silence?  Or that action that is worth 1000 of those words?  It matters.  If you don't believe it . . .

Ask Princess.

Runza: A Pocketful of Comfort

If you have spent much time in Nebraska, you may have been lucky enough to have a delicioso runza from the Runza restaurant.  If not, try these at home or stop by Runza next time you are in the neighborhood!

Runza

Dough:

4-1/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided
1/2 cup sugar
2 packages (1/4 ounce each) active dry yeast
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup shortening
2 eggs

Filling:

1 pound lean ground beef (90% lean)
2 small onions, chopped
4 cups chopped cabbage
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper

Directions:

Place 1-3/4 cups flour, sugar, yeast and salt in a large bowl. Heat the milk, water and shortening to 120°-130°. Pour over flour mixture; add the eggs. Beat with an electric mixer on low until blended. Beat 3 additional minutes on high. Stir in the remaining flour; knead until smooth and elastic, about 6-8 minutes.

Place dough in a greased bowl; cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet, cook beef and onion over medium heat until meat is no longer pink; drain. Add the cabbage, salt and pepper; cook until cabbage is wilted.
Punch dough down; roll into twelve 6-in. squares. Top each square with 1/3 cup meat mixture. Fold into rectangles. Pinch edges tightly to seal and place on greased baking sheets. Bake at 350° for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Serve hot. Yield: 12 servings.

**Feel free to add other spices, peppers or cheese to suit your taste.

French Dip Au Jus: Need I Say More?

You got it. It is the time of year we begin to dream of comfort food. Hot, savory, dripping, decadent comfort food. Dig in with this potentially messy, and oh so divine sandwich.

French Dip Au Jus

1 2 1/2-4 lb chuck roast

1/4 cup butter

1 large onion, sliced

3 cloves garlic, peeled and diced large (or mince)

1/2 cup soy sauce

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 Tablespoon italian seasoning

2 cups water

1 can beef broth

Optional: your choice of peppers if you like it spicy

Toasted, buttered deli rolls

Cheese of your choice

Heat butter in a pot over medium heat until melted. Saute the onions for a couple of minutes or until they begin to brown. Set roast on top of the onions. Add all of the remaining ingredients (not rolls or cheese!). Cover pot and simmer on very low heat on the stove for 6 hours or until beef is fork-tender and falling apart. Shred meat with two forks until all large chunks are gone.

Mixture can be refrigerated overnight and hardened fat may be removed before reheating if you wish.

Serve on toasted buttered rolls, top with cheese of your choice and place under broiler until it is melted.

Dip, slurp, masticate and sigh! Repeat!

Cinnamon Rolls: A Culinary Orgasm

There is no way to describe these other than to say they are a culinary orgasm. Try it and see ;-)

Stephanie's Cinnamon Rolls

1 cup warm milk (110 degrees, no lower but no too much hotter as to kill the yeast)

2 eggs, room temperature, beaten

1/3 cup margarine or butter, melted

4 cups bread flour (use extra for kneading)

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup white sugar

1 1/4 oz packet of yeast

1 cup light brown sugar, packed

Slight 1/3 cup flour

2 1/2 Tablespoons ground cinnamon

1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened

1 (3 ounce) package cream cheese, softened

1/4 cup butter or margarie, softened

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sift

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon salt

Dissolve the yeast in the warm milk in a large bowl. Add the sugar and let the mixture stand for about five minutes. Melt the butter and add it to the mixture. Add the eggs, salt and flour to the mixture, blending thoroughly. Using flour-dusted hands, knead the dough into a large ball on a flat surface. If you have a Kitchen Aid or a Bosch mixer, put the ingredients in as above and let it do the work! Put the dough back into a bowl sprayed with a non-stick spray, cover it with a damp towel and let it rise in a warm place for about an hour or until dough has doubled in size.

Make the filling by combining the brown sugar, flour and cinnamon in a small bowl.

After the dough has doubled in size, turn it out on a lightly floured surface, cover and let rest for 10 minutes.

Roll dough into a 16 x 21 inch rectangle. Spread dough with 1/2 cup butter and sprinkle evenly with the sugar/cinnamon mixture. Working from the 21" side, roll up the dough and pinch the edge shut. Cut the rolled dough into 12 rolls. Place in a lightly greased/sprayed 9 x 13 baking pan. Cover the pan and let rise until nearly doubled maybe 30-60 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Bake for 15-20 minutes or until the tops of the rolls are LIGHTLY browned. (They can brown fast, watch closely!)

Beat frosting ingredients until smooth and spread on rolls while a tad warm.

EAT AND ENJOY!!! Be careful though, when others hear the sounds you are making while indulging in them, they will want some too ;-)

For Doug

What is the Definition of a Friend?

The other day, I searched online for the prefect quote to define what a friend is. Nothing could encompass in a quote the length, width and depth of what a friend is and truly, there may not be one succinct definition since friendship means many diverse things to many people.

So recently, I put this question to my friends on Facebook and wish to share their answers and add a few words of my own. Feel free to add your thoughts as well, they are more than welcome.

Crystal: Someone that is there for you no matter what. Someone that you can talk to about anything and they won't judge you or treat you differently. Someone like you with a big heart. :) Someone who shows you that there are thoughtful, caring, loving people in the world. And a true friend with love you no matter if you come from a low income background or high income.

Jaime: Someone who is there for you and vice versa and nothing changes with time, you can pick up right where you left off no matter how far away or how long its been. A friend actually cares for a proactively nurtures another, but not necessarily tries to solve eachothers problems, but will lend and ear...but can also be honest. Someone who doesnt like it when you refer to yourself as a shart. :( A true friend will tell you the truth even if it hurts the friendship if they feel the truth will infact be beneficial to you otherwise.

Melody: Dependability and unconditional empathy!

Sharon: I would say someone who is there when ever you need them to encourage you and love you no matter what. Someone you can deped on to always tell you the truth even if it isn't something you want to hear.

Jay: ‎"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof." -- Richard Bach

Joe: A friend is someone you love and who loves you, someone you respect and who respects you, someone whom you trust and who trusts you. A friend is honest and makes you want to be honest, too. A friend is loyal.

Someone who is happy to spend time with you doing absolutely nothing at all; someone who doesn't mind driving you to do errands, who will get up at midnight just because you need them to help you, and who doesn’t have to talk to communicate with you. Someone who never talks bad about you behind your back.

Someone who not only doesn't care if you're boring, but doesn't even think about it; someone who forgives you no matter what you do, and someone who tries to help you even when they don't know how. Someone who tells you if you're being stupid, but who doesn't make you feel stupid.

Someone who would sacrifice their life and happiness for you. Someone who will come with you when you have to do boring things like watch bad recitals, go to stuffy parties, or wait in boring lobbies. You don't even think about who's talking or who's listening in a conversation with a friend.

Someone for whom you're willing to change your opinions. Someone you look forward to seeing and who looks forward to seeing you: someone you like so much, it doesn't matter if you share interests or traits. Someone you like so much, you start to like the things they like. Someone who always builds you up, and would never put you down.

A friend is a partner, not a leader or a follower.

Wendy: Someone who is there for you through the bad as well as the good.

Susie: If you look up friend in the dictionary, Stephanie & Susie's picture will be there with a caption that reads, "Sister Chicks". A friend is someone who'll be by your side through thick and thin or until some judge slaps a retraining order on the stalker.

Brenda: You.

Suzi: Someone who stays by your side thick and thin.

Andrea: Regardless of what others may say, YOU!

Chloe: A friend is someone who really listens and loves you from the inside out.

Trevor: A friend is a person with the same enemies as you.

Paul: A friend bail's you out of jail. A true friend is in the cell with you saying "let's do that again!".

I would agree with all of the above and add, a friend:

remains a friend even when things can be uncomfortable at times

would make a detour of hundreds of miles, simply to spend an evening with you

continues the relationship even when their husband doesn't want them to be with you

gives as much as they take from the relationship

communicates and nurtures the ties

will drive 16 hours, just to take you home from the hospital make time for each other laughs with you when you leave the rental car door open all day in a strange place after making a big production to make sure it's been locked

flies cross-country to be with you when you think you are going to die

teaches you how to get in-touch with your inner-bitch

supports the hardest decisions you will ever have to make, with strength, encouragement and resolve right alongside you

helps you in and then back out of the dumpster

insists you let her do something for you

lets you rail, at everything he believes in, and then pray with you

totally gets what you are talking about when she says she hopes the hole in the hairspray bottle still sprays the same way after a long time of not being used

can laugh and cry with you, at the same time

means what they say, does what they say, and doesn't lie by omission

There are friendships who's ties can be dropped and picked up again without interruption but most often friendship needs to be nourished to remain viable and it takes effort like any other relationship. True friends are those that value a relationship enough to do so and to me, nourishing includes all of the above.

For me, a friend is one who values/cares enough for you to nourish what you have to keep it growing. And that, as is evident from above, takes many forms.

Go. Be a friend. Find out what it takes. And what it means.

Need Comfort Food? Try Granola!

It's hearty, it's full of fiber, has some protein and PLENTY of flavor! Not to mention, while it is baking it fills your home with a delicious aroma. In addition to eating the granola with milk, it rocks parfait-style with vanilla yogurt and strawberries! Make sure to see the notes following the recipe and enjoy :-)


Granola a la Stephanie

7 cups old-fashioned oats
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 cups chopped pecans
1 cup flaked coconut
1 cup sunflower seeds
1 cup wheat germ
2 cups packed light brown sugar
3/4 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup water
2 Tablespoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon salt

In a large bowl, combine oats, flour, pecans, coconut, sunflower seeds, and wheat germ. In another bowl, mix brown sugar, oil, water, vanilla, and salt. Pour liquid mixture over the oat mixture and toss until dry ingredients are coated. Spray two 15" x 10" baking pans with non-stick spray and spread the granola in both pans.

Bake at 275 degrees Farenheit for 1 hour, stirring every 10 minutes. Bake until lightly toasted and no longer damp. Watch carefully at the hour mark, if you need to bake longer, so it doesn't get dark. Let cool and store in airtight containers.

******NOTES: Options include adding cinnamon and/or raisins, or omitting coconut/sunflower seeds/pecans. If you don't want it as sweet, cut back on the sugar to your taste. Substitute any goodies you wish! For east of stirring while in pans because they will be full, split between three pans if your oven can juggle them without blocking good heat.circulation.

It's That Time! Soup Time!

This is a bit of a twist on the traditional chicken soup and is very healthy but most of all TASTY! Always on the hunt for meals that are good for you and taste good, because of the health problems of my parents, I tried this and it was a direct hit. Make it and let me know what you and your family think.

Italian Chicken Soup

4 chicken breast halves (bone in), skinned
1 large onion, halved
1 large carrot, quartered
3 celery ribs with leaves, chopped
3 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 cups water
2 teaspoons low-sodium chicken bouillon granules
2 bay leaves
1 can (14 1/2 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
6 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/4 cup ketchup
1 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 teaspoon pepper
2 cans (15 1/2 oz each) light red kidney beans
1/4 cup grated Romano cheese

In a 5 qt Dutch oven or large pot, combine the first eight ingredients; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; leaving cover ajar, simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Remove chicken; strain and reserve broth. Discard vegetables and bay leaves. When the chicken is cool enough to handle, remove bones; discard. Cut chicken into bite-size pieces; set aside. Return broth to pot; add tomatoes, onions, parsley, ketchup, rosemary, basil, garlic and pepper; bring to a boil. Reduce heat. Add beans, cheese and chicken; heat through.

Yield: 14 - 1 cup servings (3 1/2 quarts)

Calories: 125
Total fat: 1 gm
Calories from Fat: 8%
Saturated Fat: trace
Cholesterol: 12 mg
Carbohydrate: 19 gm
Protein: 11 gm

The Secret Ingredients Remain: The Same But Different

While a few things have changed with the German Christmas Cookies, such as when they are made, what they are topped with, and who makes them, some have not and that includes the secret ingredients. Christmas cookies, weihnachtsgeback, or more specifically the making of them, has been a tradition descending from the maternal side of my family encompassing now at least seven generations.

The farthest back we can trace this tradition, dates to the latter part of the 19th century and at a minimum, originated with my great-great grandmother who lived in Birnfeld, Germany. Her family owned a flour mill in a small rural town in the German countryside, a farming community where chickens, cows and families grew up together, a bucolic existence to be sure. Such charming, close-knit villages generally developed around mills and the services needed to sustain daily living. The abundance of flour gave rise to the creative formulation of recipes among the village women, one of which is my great-great grandmother’s recipe which endured through the previous 100 years or so in my family to this day.

Time passes.

My mother, who is the source of this information, was born in Heidelberg, Germany during World War II when everything needed for daily living was scarce. Food, clothing, money and housing. As a result, my great-grandmother, Maria Dorathea Firnschild-Meixner, lived with my mother and grandmother, essentially raising my mother, as my grandmother had to work to support the family. My grandfather was supposedly killed in the war, another story for another time. Christmases came and went. In spite of the war, somehow they found a way to make the Christmas cookies, regardless of the scarcity of food.

Tradition was, at that time, to make the cookies one to two weeks in advance of Christmas Eve, during the night when the children were asleep. A coal stove was employed for baking during my mother’s childhood and a brick oven during her great-great grandmother’s life. One batch was made and one batch only. The cookies were regarded as a treasure to be slowly savored. The cookies, I would say, resemble a shortbread style, not too sweet but delicate, their flavor improving with time as the Christmas event approached. They were topped with either a light, tangy, lemon glaze or a rich egg yolk wash and garnished with a single almond or pecan placed in the very center of the sweet, indeed a luxury at the time. The shapes cut out by the ancient cookie cutters that had been passed down through the family, came in the shapes of chickens, ducks, stars, hearts and circles.

Time passes.

During my childhood, the tradition changed somewhat but yet remained the same. Due to their popularity among our family and closest friends, one batch was not ever enough to satisfy demand and hence evolved into nine gargantuan batches of cookies. My mother spent long days making them to give as “heart” gifts to those we loved. Now the egg wash was not only garnished by nuts but by pearl sugar, infusing each bite with an extra measure of sweetness. Not only were the cookies graced with the delicate lemon glaze but now some had raspberry preserves gently sandwiched between two thin cookies and were sprinkled with a dusting of powdered sugar. The cookie cutters now included bells. The baking now began during the first week of December and was tackled during the daytime when we as children could watch and pinch pieces of cookie dough off when we thought mom wasn’t aware, but came to find out later, she knew.

Dough pinching. My favorite baking activity. I thought I was so clever, sneaking into the fridge at night to eat the cookie dough, my favorite, beating chocolate chip cookie dough any day of the week (in my humble opinion). The dough would take an entire day of it’s own to assemble, mixing the cold hard mass by hand, and would be put in the refrigerator to keep it’s chill until baking time, usually a day or two later. I would carefully unwrap a round of dough, pinch off a portion, smooth over what I thought was much remaining, and rewrap the goodie. By the time I was finished or sick whichever came first, it was plain for my mom to see, there was significantly less dough. She never said anything, though. It was our unspoken secret.

Time passes.

Now I make weihnachtsgeback for my family and friends. It is every bit as popular today as it was years ago. Some traditions remain yet change. My mom and I usually make seven batches, the first or second week of December, during the day. Now the cookie cutter collection includes leaves, a very large angel, wreaths, trees, and frogs, yes, frogs, in addition to the time cherished and worn, stars, chickens, ducks, circles, stars and bells. The toppings remain the same, for some things cannot be improved upon without sacrificing the nature of the cookie and that is indeed sacred to us. I prefer for the finished cookie to be a bit thicker and pale in color, my mom prefers them to be thin and a toasty-looking tan. Making these cookies is an art and took me, a good cook, years of practice to master. And believe you me, thicker and pale is the way to go!

The most beautiful, meaningful change occurred when my mom came to live with me eleven years ago, we now make the cookies together, as mother and daughter. Sometimes we have even been able to include my sisters who do not live local to us. Our ultimate dream would be to have my mom, myself, my two sisters who make these cookies also, my niece and great-niece all come together to make these family heirlooms, although we may have to rent a large kitchen to do it! It has now become a family activity, a treasured one we look forward to each year. Although we grumble about the mess, the hard work of mixing the dough (which my mom has succumbed to letting the kitchen aid mixer do the work since her hands are now arthritic), the hours spent on our feet, about whether thicker and pale is best or thin and darker, and how my angels always break because they are too big, each year the experience is priceless. For the record, now I eat all the dough I want not caring if my mom knows or not, still snitching from the fridge for old times sake to see if she notices! And yes, for the record, I still usually get a belly ache by the time we are finished.

The dough disappears, but what remains is the laughter, the being covered in flour, the beautiful results after two days of baking and the memories we create each blessed year that will carry on and sustain us in the generations to come, passing this touching, special, culinary legacy down to our children’s children. I have boys but hope someday my eldest, who enjoys his familial history and traditions, at least will show an interest in this great generational tradition or maybe his beloved will. In any event, my nieces will carry on.

The same but different. The shapes are the same but different, the timing is close to the same but different, we gobble instead of savoring the holiday treasures, the environment in which they are made has expanded, but the recipe remains the same.

Oh! I almost forgot! The secret ingredients! The flour may no longer come from my great-great grandmother’s mill but the secret ingredients that flavor the cookies with a special edible fragrance, remains the same: love, family, and tradition. They may be intangible ingredients but they flavor the pastry with a delicate but definable flavor that cannot be replaced with anything you may purchase at the grocery. And now, with the addition of the family creating these morsels of love together, we add laughter.

Stop by. Taste and see.

Poems. Prayers. Promises.

As a young boy, the poems held the future as a rose. But what do young boys know of roses? He knows only of those poems that he is read, and to what child does a parent read a rhyme of anything other than sunshine and rainbows and truth? So, he believes in the reality of the fantasy.

But the fantasy is tarnished. The poems echo, hollow in his heart. Prayers are cried in haste, trying to recall the fantasy. Because promises lay in waste at his feet as he stands, waiting, at the screen door, praying the promises he’s been given will come true. That he will be met, at the door. Pleading for something he doesn’t even quite understand but knows he wants, he needs. The evening rings empty as another promise lies broken at his feet. Another prayer is unanswered. Another poem is a lie.

Careful to avoid being hurt by the broken pieces, he steps around them, thinking he is not touched by the jagged shards, but they embed in his shoes. Following him, wherever he steps, though time.

The little boy, now a man, stands at the screen door. Remembering the lie of the poems of the past. Now is the time to write his own poem. A poem that paints the future as a rose. What does a man know of roses? He knows of the thorns, but the thorns have taught him how to handle a rose. He thinks he knows. But as he writes, his hands are pricked and he bleeds, staining his own poem of the future. And the jagged shards of promises past, make scars on the path he treads.

The little boy, now a man, doesn’t understand prayers for they have left him untouched with their non-existent answers. He feels the pain, the bitterness and the wanting. For what he is not sure. But he knows he wants. The pieces that go missing leave him searching. Yet he searches in vain. Afraid to pray, unwilling to pray, he searches . . . in vain.

The little boy, inside of the man, tries to write the poem. But without the prayers, the promises he makes fall in pieces around his feet as he stands at the screen door. His promises are carried away like chaff on the threshing floor in the presence of the wind. He tries to be different, oh how he tries. But until the little boy inside of the man, is let go to heal, and grow, there will be no change. He has kept it all these years. He has kept his pain, as fresh after all this time as a new fallen snow.

The acceptance of the imperfections of the old poems, of the answers to prayers not seen but indeed present, of the promises broken not in malice but in self-absorption, will lead to the little boy inside becoming a man of his own promises. Forgiveness is not condoning the wrong, or righting the past. Forgiveness is robbing the wrong of the ability to hurt life, to mar the future, cleansing the poison that eats away at who we are. It is the healing of the wound from the inside to the outside. Forgiveness presents the gift of clarity, of sight. Forgiveness of the past is the key to the future as a rose.

The man, stands at the screen door. The key cradled in his hand. Poems in his heart. Promises on his lips. Emptiness at his feet. And the future before him, as a rose.

If You Can't Smell Autumn In The Air Yet, Bake These

I love the pumpkin scones I get at Starbucks to go with my tall Earl Grey tea with plenty of cream. Yum! But I cannot always afford to feed that habit. Well, I found a pretty good recipe that comes very close to what I can get at the store with the green sign. Try them, you'll love them! I've included a photo of how mine turned out.

Scones

2 cups flour

7 T. sugar

1 T. baking powder

1/2 t. salt

1/2 t. cinnamon

1/2 t. nutmeg

1/4 t. ground cloves

1/4 t. ginger

6 T. cold butter

1/2 cup canned pumpkin

3 T. half and half

1 large egg

Powdered Sugar Glaze

1 cup powdered sugar

1T. powdered sugar

2 T. whole milk

Spiced Glaze

1 cup powdered sugar

3 T. powdered sugar

2 T. whole milk

1/4 t. cinnamon

1/8 t. nutmeg

1 pinch ginger

1 pinch ground cloves

TO MAKE THE SCONES:

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and spices in a large bowl. Using a pastry knife, fork, or food processor, cut butter into the dry ingredients until mixture is crumbly and no chunks of butter are obvious. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, whisk together pumpkin, half and half, and egg. Fold wet ingredients into dry ingredients. Form the dough into a ball. Pat out dough onto a lightly floured surface and form it into a 1-inch thick rectangle (about 9 inches long and 3 inches wide). Use a large knife or a pizza cutter to slice the dough twice through the width, making three equal portions. Cut those three slices diagonally so that you have 6 triangular slices of dough. Place on prepared baking sheet. Bake for 14-16 minutes. Scones should begin to turn light brown. Place on wire rack to cool.

TO MAKE THE PLAIN GLAZE:

Mix the powdered sugar and 2 tbsp milk together until smooth. When scones are cool, use a brush to paint plain glaze over the top of each scone.

AS THAT WHITE GLAZE FIRMS UP, MAKE THE SPICED ICING:.

Combine the ingredient for the spiced icing together. Drizzle this thicker icing over each scone and allow the icing to dry before serving (at least 1 hour). A squirt bottle works great for this, or you can drizzle with a whisk.

Green Tomato-Blueberry Jam

5 cups fresh blueberries (or same amount of frozen, thawed)

4 large green tomatoes, coarsely chopped (about 4 pounds)

1 1/2 cups water

5 cups sugar

3 (1.75 ounce) packages of fruit pectin

1/4 cup lemon juice

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Pulse blueberries and chopped tomato in a blender or food processor 3 or 4 times or until mixture is almost smooth.

Cook blueberry mixture, 1 1/2 cups water and sugar in a dutch oven over medium heat, stirring constantly, until sugar dissolves.

Stir in fruit pectin and remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil; cook, stirring constantly, 5 minutes or until mixture thickens.

Pour hot mixture into hot jars, filling to 1/4 inch from top. Remove air bubbles; wipe jar rims. Cover at once with metal lids, and screw on bands.

Process in boiling-water bath for 10 minutes.

A Goldilocks Morning (tweaked repost for a writing assignment)

Yes, it’s a Goldilocks morning. The variety of which is usually only found in movies, art, or music. This day, it was apparently my good fortune to be in the middle of such a beautiful and moving composition.

It is early with getting my son, Brawny Boy, up and at 'em which is no simple feat in and of itself! While he begins his a.m. ministrations to get his cute carcass presentable for the girls at school, I lay on the sofa in the living room wishing I could be back lazing between the sheets for it was a late night and will be a hectic day.

The windows of the living room are oriented to the rising sun which is quickly on it's way to it's daily zenith. The rays of sunshine stream into the room and over the sofa on which I relax. My wiener dog, Liebchen, is on her perch at the window, napping in the sun's warmth, waiting for a squirrel to make it's usual early appearance in the front garden looking for leftover acorns.

Keira, not be be left out, jumps up to join me in my morning appreciation, stretching her long puppy body on mine. At six months, her feet reach my ankles and her muzzle meets my chin. She lays here softly breathing. She likes the feel of her breathing, snuffling, underneath my chin, has done this ever since she was tiny. Her heart beats out it's strong, rhythmic beat against my heart. Since when did she get so heavy?

The windows are open, drawing a pleasantly cool and purely refreshing through the house. Through the open windows,an assortment of birds play the music of nature, singing of the newness of day. Joining them in four-part harmony is my cockatiel, Oleo, making sure the world knows "Oleo is a pretty, pretty, pretty bird". Every once in awhile throwing even more "prettys" in there, when he is feeling especially "cocky" : ) He wolf whistles at my 83 year old father passing through the kitchen, like a testosterone befuddled construction worker might whistle at a hot babe on the street. My dad says it's good for his ego at his age, and whistles back at Oleo to return the favor.

My eyes are closed in relaxation and wonderment "How is it that I am so lucky to be blessed with such a day as this?". What did I do to deserve this gift? Nothing. I woke up breathing.

For whatever the reason the world continues to spin on it's axis, I will accept it's bestowal of this time. Enjoying it, reveling in it, appreciating it. How I can take such life for granted is a gross act of selfishness. I will immerse myself in it, use it for good and LIVE it. Trying to spread it's joy to those I meet, who see not the gem they have been given.

How do you feel about your day? How will you think of it as you move through it's portals? How will you use and enjoy it?

I’m blessed you took the time to enjoy my morning with me at this late hour and I’m not sure how your morning blossomed into the story of your day, but mine? Was just right.

My Own Personal Mastercard Commercial

Starting 2 & maybe 3 new businesses, investment: None of your biz

Bed and Breakfast: $1,000,000

First major deposit into my B&B account: $$$$

Realizing my dream and my own worth: PRICELESS!!!!!

Yes, I Have An iPad And Here Is What I Think About It

As of Saturday morning, I have an iPad (see iPhone photo). In fact, all of us here at MauroMedia have one. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. After all I read on the internet, one almost feels afraid to state the fact. There's not a single product in my remembrance, that has received such "dissing".

At any rate, I read an article "13 glaring iPad shortcomings" and since friends have asked for my opinion about my iPad, I thought writing about it would be a way to address their "13" and give you my own personal, non-subjective, non-techie view. Please, read the article first. It will make my responses to each issue much clearer as I am responding to their statements regarding the iPads perceived shortcomings. Let me preface this with the following statement:

Until November, the only exposure I'd had to Apple products was owning an iPod. I had never used a Mac computer and obviously did not understand anything about operating them. Not getting the whole "Mac love" thing, I am not biased concerning their products.

While I am enjoying the use of the iPad, I do not consider it a toy and I do not consider the issues the article author cited as "severe".

#1 It's awkward.

I'm a girl, I've never carried a phone on my hip. It makes me look fat, for pete's sake. Nor would I carry it like a butler would a tray, ridiculous. I don't want it under my armpit for obvious reasons. It is carried in my hand. I have it in the iPad Case which is non-slippery, protects it and transports well. I am klutzy and have no problems carrying it around. Are babies easy to carry? Do we need EVERYTHING in life to be effortless?! Do you need a butler to carry everything for you? Not me, thank you.

#2 It's heavy.

How long have you been sitting on that couch, Mr. Potato? I, in no way find it heavy or difficult to carry around. I have carpel tunnel and have not found it taxing, tiring, or painful to hold it for a length of time. I bought a book and have been reading it on the iPad. I love it! Consider it a Kindle PLUS so much more. Prop it up to watch a movie, for pete's sake! Why would you hold it?! Are you going to hold the TV while you watch a movie?! So why would I hold the iPad out in front of me? Oh, and by the way? Who wants to read a book on a smartphone that is the size of a small calculator? My eyes aren't that young anymore. The Kindle? Great for reading books but does it have apps? Access anything other than Amazon? Hold your calendar, address, and list information? Can it hold your portfolio of your work? Photos? Have 3G capability? I'm a weenie. It ain't heavy enough to preclude me using it and I use it in comfort.

#3 It's slippery.

So don't hold it under your arm. Why would you treat a major purchase with such nonchalance? Put it in the Case. It won't slip.

#4 The screen has too much glare.

So does the tv, so does a cell phone, so does the car windshield and so does snow. I use it in a sunny environment and have no problems. The clarity is phenom!

#5 Forget reading in the sun.

Okay, this one is splitting hairs and could have been included in #4 but maybe their aim was to connect it to the unlucky #13. Adjust the angle at which you are viewing it. Hard, I know, I could barely accomplish it *rolling eyes*. I, personally, wouldn't take a machine like this to the beach, which is made up of SAND incidentally and isn't good when it gets in ANYTHING (haven't you ever had it in your swimwear bottoms?), and I worry about thugs and no-accounts stealing my things when my head is turned. I would take a paperback novel which costs roughly $7 or less (if you get it at a used book store or swipe it from your sister or best friend) and if something happens to it, it's no big deal.

#6 Fingerprints are annoying.

I am not anal retentive or nor do I have OCD. I don't notice the fingerprints unless it is turned off and even then, it doesn't cause me behavioral problems. Just like my mom did on the refrigerator, I wipe them off if they build up thicker than a 1/4 inch. If they bother you, use a small piece of microfiber cloth. You don't need a big towel. There are more important things to be annoyed with in this world that you can choose to let get to you, try war, poverty, hunger or the healthcare debacle.

#7 It does not multitask.

Hmmm, I missed that memo Apple sent out telling me they expect me to spend hours at a time on the iPad. They must think no one has a life. This does not take the place of my 27" desktop nor would I expect it to. It gives me the capability of doing more things when I am mobile. Frankly, I am a big multitasker and this inability do run multiple apps/tasks doesn't bother me at all. and is doing one thing at a time once in awhile all that bad? Oh, and all it takes is hitting the home button and the app to switch from one task to the other and it takes just a sec. Not a big deal for me.

#8 The browser is limited.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure what creating Google Documents is. Yeah it doesn't play Flash but that hasn't limited what I do. As for it being limited in any way I use it? I've done everything I want to do with the browser.

#9 The virtual keyboard stinks.

I have big fingers/hands. All keyboards stink for me. It's way better than my iPod Touch! Most peeps that I observe "hunt and peck" anyway. I use proper keyboarding technique and am working at getting better using them on the glass. If you want a full-size keyboard, get a desktop or large laptop. This is NOT meant to be that. I can live with it. If you do a great deal of word-processing, spreadsheets, or printing, stick with your lap/desk top. I don't expect this to take the place of that for me.

#10 There's no USB port.

Now this one might pose difficulty for me but I consider this to be similar to my iTouch and other people's iPhones (which I do not have) and I haven't heard them complain about the lack of a USB port.

#11 iPhone-only apps look horrible.

What did you do before apps? When the iPhone apps came out, were there 150,000 of them immediately? It will take time for the iPad to catch up. I don't put apps on my iPad that aren't intended for it. That would be like putting maple syrup in my car's gas tank. Maple syrup wasn't intended to be used in a car. Be patient. Everyone and their dog are coming up with apps.

#12 The price is just too high.

All prices, on all things, are too high when we want something. I want organic milk which costs $7-$8 per gallon versus $2.25 for non-organic milk. It's too high for me. But if I want something, I save for it. If I don't, then I don't. Remember how expensive VCR's were? If it's too high for you, wait, the price may come down. And if someone's iPad memory fills up quickly and they decide a bigger one is what they want, buy their small one and you might get a good deal.

#13 It doesn't replace anything.

Is it supposed to? It doesn't for me, it supplements. I like the way it works, it works great for what I will do in the field, on the go, and when lounging in bed where my desktop proves to be awkward. :-) I like books on it, I like the size. Bottom line: I LIKE it. It makes for a great PR and work tool in the photography/media business (not for photo processing). As a portfolio while out on the go, it can't be beat. For note taking while out on gardening business and using some of the simple design and reference apps, it is a great tool for garden designers and will get even better as new apps come out. Oh, by the way, Skype works beautifully on it!!! The sound works great!

If you do not frequent areas with Wi-Fi, wait and get the 3G model. As with any new product, deficiencies will be improved and tweaked

Not one thing in this world is meant to be the be-all and end-all, not man, woman or technology. And honestly, I couldn't care less about being cool.

In my personal opinion, if you don't want it, don't buy it. If you want it, get it. I love it.