Saying yes...

Cookies from an Aging Superhero

I've been working on cookies for the past day or so... my painted cookies. They take awhile. It dawned on me yesterday that this is the 25th year I've made them. What started as a lark in college... a new surface to try to paint on, a new way to impress a particular boy, has stuck with me through my life.

There were many years when I used them to supplement my income. During these years, I'd literally crank out hundreds. It became an assembly line of production, even the painting part... paint the rough on all cookies, paint the sky, do the shadows, paint the red, paint the green... etc, etc, etc, until I got to the very end and put the "dimensional snow" on the ones that called for it. One job I had during my younger years was hand-coloring engravings... this was good prep for the cookies. I came to hate the process of hand-coloring engravings... there were also times I hated these cookies, and yet I had to make them. I was always too happy once the snow dots went on and I saw penguins and snowmen smiling back at me.

After the lamblets appeared, I stopped cranking out mass quantities, but would do a few dozen for special things. When the lamblets were old enough, this included making enough to send to school with them. At times I would cringe, but would then hear wails of "But Mommmmmmmm!!! You're the only person who can do this! NO ONE ELSE CAN! Pleeeeeeze!" And I'd make them...

When they were very young, I was perfect in their eyes. I could do anything, know anything, be anything. As they mature, the cracks in my superhero suit have appeared with increasing speed. One day, no doubt, the entire suit will crumble and fall to the floor, revealing the mere human who's been there all along. It's right, it's the way it should be... but I'm not ready to give it all up yet... as far as they believe, no other human or machine can make my cookies... and so I make them again...

As the holiday activities increase, blogging will most likely slow down or stop altogether. Here's wishing everyone a wonderful whatever it is they celebrate... life is good.

Light blogging ahead...

As we head into Thanksgiving and all that it entails... for better or worse, blogging will most likely be light. May everyone who celebrates it have a wonderful time with lots of gravy and few family squabbles. May those who aren't celebrating have a wonderful time as well.

See you whenever.

Proustian Peanut Butter w/Miracle Whip

Don't know what made me do it, I hadn't thought of that combo in eons, but there it was, scattered amongst the other luncheon sandwich choices... an open jar of peanut butter and an open jar of Miracle Whip.

Those two items belonged on a sandwich my father would only occasionally allow himself to eat... knowing he'd pay for it later, but one that he loved. I never really understood the combo as a kid until I tried one and found the odd allure of the mix.

He liked his with lettuce. His brother? He liked to add green pepper. I never recall any bacon... and although I have often eaten PB and banana, we never did the Elvis thing. I bypassed any extra addition.

As mentioned, I hadn't thought of peanut butter and mayo in eons, but today, those two items stood out against the crowd and I quietly took one piece of bread, smeared PB on half, MW on the other, folded the slice and left the room. As I sat down by myself and took the first bite, I was whisked back to another time, to a younger me, a younger father.

Half of the half was more than enough, the threat of heartburn hanging in the air. Now, as a middle-aged adult, I understood why my father so rarely ate them. Yes, half of the half was enough, both for my stomach and my state of mind.

It's Not Finished Yet!

This is what Grizzled says I say whenever I'm working on something. I don't like being watched when I work... Not sure why... I guess it's because I know all of the ugly spots you go through before you get to the end. I also know of all of the wonderful spots that get lost along the way... you don't want proof that those existed and someone looking at it midway might remember. I'm getting better though... a little more willing to show the process, or my process.

And yes, if this looks familiar, it should.

Update:  Trying to keep it amped up while toning down what needs to be... however, finding I just want to scrub and scumble. I'm not going to though; I'm doing this in a number of ways and am trying to keep each in their own category. Also, just posting this so I can see the difference from the morning... if there is one. While I thought the bowl would be trouble, the ice cream (something I've easily knocked out before) is being problematic. The actual "scoops" weren't pretty, but I'm trying to adjust them a tad. That little bit on the top is way too dog turdish-like... While it was in the original, it may have to go away altogether and I may have to make stereotypical scoops. The reflection from the bowl is still way over the top, but I'm not minding that... it's its own creature. And... I'm loving the stupid strawberries on the bottom right. It's silly, they're pretty much exactly as they were on the tablecloth, but they're working some kind of brain-tickle magic.

Update II: dog-turd-like chunkule on the top has been eradicated. However... IT'S STILL NOT FINISHED... even fish's take on it, is still not finished...

Now see... this is a case where I was thinking vast forward movements had been made between photo one and two, but looking at that movement on the top... apparently... if the painting were at the eye Dr and had heard, "Better #1 or #2?", it would have said, "#1".

Live and learn.

Get Your Chopsticks!

...a box truck and a passenger vehicle were involved in a crash that left 9,000 pounds of Chinese food on the roadway, Illinois State Police said.

9,000 lbs of Chinese food... they're going to need a lot of little white boxes to clean it up.

random randomness about snags

-- Because I am so not blogging right now, today I'm going to post two! I feel like Ernie Banks.

I am a big fan of the random conversation... the stream of consciousness conversation... the conversation that takes on deep importance even though the subject matter is quite bogus. Maybe that's why I like any number of comment threads around the internets. They just take off into parts unknown and everyone is on board, treating it as though it were a serious matter.

My lamblets are naturals at the random bogus conversation, as is Grizzled. Grizzled didn't realize it though until he met me. I've built up his ignored RBC muscles whether he liked it or not. The lamblets though have been steeped in it since birth. As soon as they were old enough to talk, I went from spelling everything and naming everything to asking random questions. Car time was perfect for this. While driving, I'd ask, "Ok, if the dogs could drive, what type of car would they drive and why?" It was decided that Argus (RIP) would have driven a big Kleenex box of a car since he loved to eat Kleenexes. He'd also have a convertible. Wilson (RIP) would not have a convertible. He hated thunder and was not fond of wind, however he did love the sun, so maybe a sun roof, but he'd need the reassurance that a partial roof could bring...

And off we'd go, discussing what music they would listen to and why. What destinations and why. There were many conversations like this. Still are. They seem so normal I rarely notice them, but every once in awhile I find myself stepping outside of myself and observing, wondering what a fellow traveler might think if his car window had been down and he'd heard a snippet of our chat.

Today, after leaving the pet store, the eldest lamblet said she had been checking out the "Snags". I asked if she didn't mean "ferret". She said no... it was a Snag, she was sure, because Snags will eat anything-- they're part goat and part ferret, but the goat gene is recessive, which is why they look like ferrets-- and this one was apparently chewing on a cage-mate's tail, therefore it was really a snag... Conversations about Snags continued until we were in the car and listening to Bruce Springsteen's "Adam Raised a Cain". The lamblet was certain he was singing "Oyster Pig" during the refrain. I assured her he was not singing oyster pig... besides, what was an oyster pig?? A pig covered in a shell? Would it live on land or in the water?  She said she thought it would be an oyster shell that when opened, had ham inside... they were found in fresh water.

Fresh water??? I was skeptical because ham is nothing if not salty. I would seriously doubt the existence of oyster pigs in fresh water... which led to the question of would a fresh water oyster pig hold pork while a salt water oyster pig would hold ham??

It was about this time that we were pulling into the driveway and I was discussing what needed to get done before the day was over...  thoughts of oyster pigs leaving my mind while wrestling with the large bag of dog food, I heard the lamblet say, "Fresh water or salt water, I'm guessing a snag would eat them...".

I think she's right, but preferably wrapped in bacon and drizzled with bourbon.

Because there's just not enough ice cream and our butts aren't big enough yet...

Don't blame me. Blame my sister... she's the evil soul who sent me this endless ice cream possibility source...

nirvana

Surely something that tastes so good can't be that bad for you... even if it has 6 egg yolks in it, 2 cups of heavy cream, and 2 cups of half n' half. I'm certain the freshly-picked strawberries negate any ill effects caused by the richness of other ingredients.

Of course, after tasting, you don't care.

Extra-secret ingredient? Cottonwood fluff. It seems no matter how well you clean the strawberries, is it nearly impossible to remove all cottonwood fluff that was recently deposited during the latest cottonwood fluffstorm. If memory serves, it's not poisonous and might just add a little fiber.

When Food Sends The Wrong Message

I had rhubarb sitting in the fridge that was left over from the other day. I was going to have to use it or it would go bad. I couldn't justify planting rhubarb, nurturing it, picking it and then letting it go bad. No, I'd have to make something... another pie. Besides, Grizzled just looked beaten by life this morning and the lamblets and I won't be here when he gets home, so maybe he'll smile if he sees a freshly made pie. Maybe he'll do the pie dance...

While cutting up the rhubarb I thought that there is no way you can confuse that smell with anything else. Rhubarb is uniquely its own when it comes to the aroma department... and then my nose picked up something else... roasted pig...

I mean the smell you get when someone is roasting the entire hog. I now want to know what chemical compound in rhubarb can also be found in a roasted hog! I like both, but it doesn’t seem right…

You got your rhubarb in my roasted hog! No! You got your roasted hog in my rhubarb!

Do the Pie Dance

It seems while I was busy picking rhubarb for a pie, the eldest lamblet hacked into my xtranormal account... When I went into the office to find out what she was doing... I found this: