Monthly Archives: June 2015

Thursday Thoughts

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Kris ScooterBuzzing Around
We’re still getting rain nearly every day, and sometimes really hard rain. But we’re also getting some sunshine in between. That brings me joy for many reasons, not the least of which is that it means I can drive my scooter all around the neighborhood. And that makes me very happy. Because I like to take it to the grocery store, I have learned to fit a lot of groceries into the box on the back of my scooter. Inevitably it doesn’t all fit, so then I have to clip the bag to the front of my seat and balance it between my legs. To date, the largest things I’ve had to carry this way was a hanging flowering plant and a case of Corona beer. Not at the same time. The other day when I pulled up to the store, there was another scooter parked at the bike rack where I leave mine. The owner was just pulling out as I came out of the store. To my surprise, it was an older man (about my age), who looked as though he loved his scooter every bit as much as I love mine!

Stingy
Bill has a friend named John who barters nearly every purchase. Well, maybe not a pack of gum. But he has been known to barter a roast beef. He’s my haggling hero. I took him with me to buy my yellow bug, and we got a smokin’ deal. Anyhoo, yesterday I channeled John as I went into Best Buy to purchase a dishwasher. Bill and I have been looking at this dishwasher for over a month, maybe two. It’s a Bosch floor model. The dishwasher purportedly retails for something like $780, and it was discounted to $580. Sure, there is a little smudge on the front, but Bill assured me he can make that go away. So yesterday I drove — all by myself — to Best Buy. I sat for about 10 minutes in the parking lot rehearsing and giving myself a pep talk. Don’t apologize. Don’t seem timid. Be ready to walk away if they aren’t willing to deal. You can do it, Kris. Go Kris, go! I walked in and found the dishwasher still sitting where it’s been sitting for at least a month-and-a-half. I young fellow asked if he could help me. I told him I was interested in the dishwasher. “Sweet,” he said, because he was probably 19 years old. I went on to tell him that I had been watching the dishwasher for a very long time, and was willing to take it off his hands for $500. “Sweet,” he said again. “Let me call my manager.” Shortly his manager appeared, and he explained the situation. “She will buy it today for $500,” he said. The manager immediately said, “Ok,” and turned around to leave. “Sweet,” the salesman said. Damn, I thought. I wanted to yell to her, “I meant $400!” but didn’t. Still, I am woman, hear me roar. Sweet.

Sleepless in Denver
I’m preparing for my first sleepover of the summer on Friday. Oh, don’t get me wrong; I’m not sleeping away from home. Kaiya and Mylee are sleeping over at Nana and Papa’s. I’m always reluctant about sleepovers. Please understand, the kids are always good, down to the last grandchild. But it doesn’t matter, because I am awake all night listening for the sleepoverees to wake up or cry out from a bad dream. They don’t, but I’m ready if they do, by golly. And then I spend the next day recovering. But seeing their happy faces and little sleepover bags when they arrive at my door makes it all worthwhile. That, and the way they enjoy my chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.

Why, Oh Why
When I finally make my way to the Pearly Gates, I’m going to have a lot of questions to ask God. One of them will be what’s up with moths. Every summer about this time I find them everywhere. Especially in the morning when I open my blinds and/or windows. They are just so DUMB. And annoying. But they are part of God’s plan, so I can’t wait to find out just what part they play. And I certainly hope the two I killed this morning don’t have an important role, because they are squished to moth dust.

Ciao!

Life is Like a Box of Chocolates

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Anyway, like I was sayin’, shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sauté it. Dey’s uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There’s pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that’s about it. – Bubba Gump

Enjoying a night on the town.

Enjoying a night on the town.

The best way to describe my brother David’s generous spirit and his loyalty to his family is to tell you that he took my dad and stepmother on his honeymoon to Hawaii because he wanted to treat them to something special. And the best way to describe my sister-in-law Sami’s big-heartedness is to tell you that she agreed without giving it a second thought.

Their honeymoon.

Though there are plenty of funny stories they tell that are not unexpected when you share your honeymoon trip with your father — or anyone, really — their memories of their first trip to Hawaii are special.

How can that not be so? It’s Hawaii.

Still, just prior to my brother and his wife’s recent visit to Denver, I was quite surprised to learn that one of David’s few must-does while visiting was eating dinner at Bubba Gump’s Restaurant in downtown Denver.

I was surprised because David is more the “let’s stay home and enjoy the backyard and grill some brats” kind of guy, not a “let’s put on big-boy and –girl pants and go downtown to eat a rather pricey meal” sort of fellow. But it seems he and Sami have wonderful memories of sitting at the Bubba Gump’s on the island of Maui, watching the ocean, and eating shrimp. With his dad and stepmom.

It was little enough to ask, so the Saturday night of their visit, we all climbed aboard light rail and made our way to Bubba Gump’s Restaurant.

I had driven past this restaurant countless times as one of the light rail lines literally goes past Bubba Gump’s. However, it is one of the innumerable restaurants that I have seen but not tried. Since it is a chain restaurant, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I don’t think I’m particularly a restaurant snob, but sometimes chain restaurants can be a bit mundane.

Bubba Gump’s wasn’t, and we had a wonderful time. When we first arrived,shrimp app bubba gumps the somewhat surly hostess tried to place us in a dark booth downstairs where there were very few people. Much to my delight, however, David and Sami spotted an empty table upstairs near the bar where there was light, lots of cheerful patrons, with the table right next to an open window. The only thing missing was the ocean.

kris bubba gumpWhile I’m not trying to write a restaurant review, I will tell you that I had more fun that night than I’ve had in a long time. The food was delicious, and we had a pleasant server who more than made up for our ungracious greeting downstairs.

I love when people surprise me, and that night my brother surprised me. Our waiter began asking us trivia questions about the movie Forrest Gump. I must tell you that I saw Forrest Gump one time when it was first released, and never felt compelled to see it again. While I didn’t hate the movie, I found it, well, overly long. Stop running Forrest, stop running. So the only question I was able to answer was to complete the phrase life is like a spicy shrimp bubba gumpsbox of chocolates… Seriously, one would have to have lived on Mars not to be able to do that. But my brother knew ALL THE ANSWERS. ALL OF THEM.

“How do you know all of this?” I asked him. The answer: he has watched the movie something like 372 times. Well then.

We ate coconut shrimp and shrimp cocktail and grilled shrimp and shrimp by the bucket. Not surprising that Bubba Gump’s has a plethora of shrimp from which to choose. And choose we did. And it was all delicious.

It was a fun night, and undoubtedly we will visit the restaurant again. It would be stupid not to when it was so good.

And stupid is as stupid does.

Painted Ladies

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So one day about 15 or 16 years ago or so, Court and Bill and I were having lunch at Jen’s house. It was Mother’s Day. Court was a sophomore at Colorado State.  We were talking about silly things we do as kids.

“So Son,” I said to Court, “do you have any tattoos anywhere on your body?”

I fully expected – in fact, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind – that he would say, “Of course not Mom. What do you think I am, some sort of thug?”

Instead, much to my surprise, he got a panicked look on his face, the look he gets when he doesn’t know whether to tell the truth or lie. Court’s never been a great liar. He tends to blink a lot, thereby giving himself away.

This time, however, he was forced to tell the truth. He admitted he had gotten a tattoo somewhere around the first or second week of his freshman year. I had never dreamed he had a tattoo.

I say he was forced to tell the truth because, in fact, Bill knew about the tattoo. The summer between his freshman and sophomore year, Court was out mowing our lawn with his shirt off while I was at work. Bill noticed the tattoo and asked Court about it when he came inside.

“When did you get the tattoo?” Bill asked him.

“What tattoo?” Court asked. Blink, blink, blink.

“Court, I saw you out back with your shirt off and I saw the tattoo,” Bill said. “When did you get it?”

Court finally acknowledged the tattoo, and asked Bill not to say anything to me. Bill never said a word, keeping his word to his stepson. I will tell you, however, he was having a world of fun as this conversation progressed.

Court tattooCourt showed me the tattoo, which was on his bicep, and the funniest thing about the whole tattoo business is that the tattoo he chose was praying hands. Ha. My son, the non-church goer, with permanent praying hands on his bicep.

I talked about it with him later, and expressed my concern that it would present a bad image in the future. But Court gave me food for thought. He noted that while tattoos were rare amongst my age group, they were commonplace among his generation and therefore it would never be held against him. What he said made sense. It is true, in fact, that I can only think of a handful of adults of his generation or younger with no tattoos whatsoever.

I was thinking about this the other day when I saw two young teenaged girls (maybe early 20s) walking together in the grocery store parking lot. Both were tattooed, and one girl’s entire arm was tattooed. They looked like totally innocent, suburban girls, not the heavily tattooed kind. Then I remembered that my lovely niece Jessie – a perfectly normal young woman studying to be an environmental engineer – has several tattoos. So, again, she is proving Court’s point that tattoos are part of life in the 21st century…..

…..as indicated by the tattoos on the back legs of a woman I recently saw stocking_ribbon_tattoo_by_squirlybarbie-d3h02eyat Starbucks. Yoiks. This photo, by the way, is not of the actual legs, but something I found on the internet as I was too taken aback at the sight of the woman’s legs to remember to take a photo. The tattoo, however, is identical.

Despite Court’s acclamation that tattoos are here to stay, I can’t help but think that someday this young woman will wish she didn’t have laces up the back of her legs. Perhaps when she is 85 and the laces are sagging and appear to be untied.

But what do I know? I, for one, haven’t a single tattoo on my body.

Summer Memories

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Now that it’s full-out summer (though I realize that it doesn’t officially begin until June 21) and we are getting some sunny days in between rain showers and thunderstorms, I have been thinking about how much I love the warm weather and the sunshine. I always have. I always will.

I’m blessed, therefore, to have a house in Denver where we can enjoy the usually-beautiful Colorado summer days and a house in Arizona where we can avoid shoveling snow.

But my thoughts this week were about summers in the past, and glorious memories they have left in my mind. Here are a few….

A&W Root Beer
We weren’t particularly a family of pop drinkers. In fact, every night it was A&Wmy job to make a pitcher of Kool Aid for the kids to enjoy with our meal. It was my job because Mom used ahead-of-her-time psychology by telling me I made the BEST Kool Aid of all the kids so that I was always eager to show off my SKILLZ! In fact, my so-called SKILLZ included a package of Kool Aid, a cup of sugar, and an orange or lemon cut in half and squeezed into the pitcher. Voila. But I digress. Though we weren’t a pop-drinking family, very often in the summer we would make our way to A&W, a good 10 minute drive through town to Highway 81 near the viaduct. There we would turn in our big empty jug that had formerly contained A&W root beer and get a new one. A glass gallon jug full of delicious creamy A&W root beer, freshly pumped from the tap. It was indescribably delicious.

Zesto
On summer nights when we weren’t heading to A&W, our family could often be found at the Zesto. Zesto was a locally owned ice cream parlour that had a walk-up window where you ordered your treat. Most of the time I ordered a vanilla cone dipped in chocolate, but occasionally I ordered a vanilla cone dipped in a mixture of peanuts and toffee and sprinkles. To this day, I think nothing says summer evening more than ice cream.

Deadly DDT
One of my favorite summer traditions was sitting with my family on our front porch enjoying the warm evening. We lived on an avenue that was relatively busy as it had few stop signs. I say relatively because Columbus was pretty small, so traffic was actually minimal. We didn’t have a big front porch with a porch swing or any such accoutrement. Instead, we all (including Mom and Dad) just sat on the steps and watched cars drive by. When we were small, we might play a game of kick the can or some sort of evening activity with our neighborhood friends. Every other Saturday, we awaited the arrival of the mosquito sprayer. This big truck fogged the area with some sort of chemical which undoubtedly contained DDT. I don’t remember anyone being particularly troubled by the spray. We might go inside for a few minutes, but not because we were worried about our safety but only because it smelled bad. Can you imagine? And now we’re not even supposed to use spray sunblock for some reason or other.

searchDoo, Doo, Doo, Lookin’ Out My Back Door
My first boyfriend came along around my sophomore year of high school. As soon as he got his drivers’ license and saved enough money, he bought a Jeep. Not a fancy Jeep, but the old-fashioned Jeep Willys, used from God only knows where. There are two rivers that flow past Columbus – the Loup and the Platte rivers.  When the rivers were low, we would drive the Jeep down to one of the rivers, ride the bumpy river banks, and listen to music that blared from his eight-track player. Because the only music I can recall listening to was Creedence Clearwater Revival, I suspect that might have been his only tape. I will tell you however, I can’t hear a CCR song without thinking about our rides on the river in the Jeep.

Merry-Go-Round
20140329_192118Every July the Platte County Fair came to town. Previous blog posts have told you that I am terrified of roller coasters and other scary rides, but man, I LOVED the fair. We would go one or two times during the few days that the fair was in town, and always at night. Because you see, for us it wasn’t particularly about the rides. It was about the lights and sounds. That calliope music and the ferris wheel lights you could see from blocks away.

Vroom
And speaking of summer sensory memories, every Sunday night brought the running of the stock cars. I wrote about the stock car races in a previous post. You can read it here. I still can vividly recall the sounds and the smells associated with the stock car races. Even the rare Sundays we didn’t attend, we could hear the sounds of the cars in the distance.

The feel of summer is different when you’re a kid, but summer will always remain my favorite season.

What are your favorite summer memories?

 

Saturday Smile: Robbing the Cradle

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I mentioned a few days ago that I spent an afternoon with Dagny and Magnolia geocaching. As we were walking through the park, somehow we got to talking about ages.

“How old are you, Nana?” asked Maggie.

I told her I was 61.

“How old is Papa?” Dagny asked.

“He’s 72,” I told them.

You should have seen the looks on their faces.

 

Dagny shocked

It must have been similar to the look on Jerry Lee Lewis’ mother’s face when the 22-year-old singer told her he was marrying his 13-year-old cousin. You would think Bill rivals Hugh Hefner.

“He’s so much older than you,” Dagny said in shocked horror.

“Not really,” I explained. He’s 11 years older, but when you’re our age, it really isn’t so outrageous. Now if 12-year-old Addie came home and said she was dating a 23-year-old, that would be cause for alarm.”

It took some persuading to convince them that Papa wasn’t robbing the cradle.

“When you see Papa and I together, does it seem weird?” I asked them.

They admitted it did not.

Still, here are Hugh Hefner and his girlfriend…..

Hugh Hefner

Here are Bill and me……

papa and nana

It’s not so bad, is it?

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: 2015 Must Reads

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I have read a few 2015 releases already – World Gone By, by Dennis Lehane; Under the Same Blue Sky, by Pamela Schoenewaldt; and A Spool of Blue Thread,  by Anne Tyler, to be specific. I enjoyed all three, and have posted reviews of them all.

But there are a few 2015 books that have either recently been released or are yet to be released that I wouldn’t even think of missing for a variety of reasons.

In no particular order….

Few would argue that To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the most important American books of all time. The characters are unforgettable. Scheduled to be released on July 14, Go Set a Watchman is, for all intents and purposes, a sequel to To Kill a Mockingbird. What makes this book particularly unique is that it was actually written and submitted years before To Kill a Mockingbird. Thought to be lost, the manuscript was found and will be released. Go Set a Watchman features the same characters as To Kill a Mockingbird, but 20 years later.

Sadly, author Kent Haruf passed away last year, but not before completing Our Souls at Night, which was released May 26. Set in the same fictional eastern Colorado town of Holt, Our Souls at Night is the story of two elderly people, both who lost their spouses several years ago, who find friendship and love in their later years amidst the small town gossip. Kent Haruf writes the most unbelieveably beautiful prose imaginable. I have this book sitting on my ebook shelf, and am eagerly looking forward to finishing the books I have borrowed from the library to dig into this one. I’m certain I won’t be disappointed.

The Truth According to Us by Annie Barrows was released June 9 to much acclaim. Barrows is the author of the much-loved (including by me) The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Barrows’ newest novel takes place in 1938 in a small West Virginian town, and tells the story of a young girl forced by her father (a United States Senator) to live in this small town despite her boredom. Boredom that is until she meets the Romeyn family and begins to unravel some family secrets. Sounds very good.

Julia Keller has become one of my favorite authors, and her protagonist Bell Elkins is one of my favorite characters. Last Ragged Breath, which will be released on August 25, is the next in the dark mystery series that also takes place in a fictional town in West Virginia. Her novels are contemporary, however. Keller’s writing is phenomenal and richly realistic. I can’t wait for this book to come out.

Speaking of mystery series, I’m eagerly awaiting Louise Penney’s next book The Nature of the Beast, featuring my beloved Chief Inspector Armand Gamache. The mysteries take place in a fictional small town near Quebec in Canada. Penney’s writing is imminently readable, but for me, the series is all about C.I. Gamache. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; I want him to be one of my BFFs.

Our favorite bail bondsman Stephanie Plum and her gang of hilarious friends will be back November 17 in Tricky Twenty-Two. I am compelled to include this book, not because it is great literature, but because every single one of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels have been so funny that I am in danger of, well, never mind. There is no way in the world I would miss a single one of these mysteries. The Stephanie Plum books are one of several that I really prefer to listen to as opposed to reading simply because the woman who narrates the books – Lorelei King – is absolutely tremendous.

Author Sue Grafton will be releasing the next in her so-called alphabet series featuring private investigator Kinsey Milhone on August 25. I used to love this series, but as of late, it has began to feel repetitious. Still, there are only so many letters in the alphabet, and this novel, entitled X, is the third from the end. I can’t quit now. For the past 23 books, I have been wondering what Grafton would title the X-book. You know, like A is for Alibi, B is for Burglar, L is for Lawless, O is for Outlaw, etc. I haven’t been able to think past X is for X-ray. Instead, Grafton went for simplicity with the title simply being X.  Who knows? Maybe Grafton will start over with double letters. You know, like AA is for Awesome Aardvark.

All the Single Ladies, by Dorothea Benton Frank, is a must-read for me simply because I absolutely love her settings, all of which are the low country of South Carolina, near Charleston. Her books always feature a strong-willed woman facing difficult circumstances and coming out unscathed. I like Frank’s writing. All the Single Ladies was released June 9. The story centers around three women facing the death of a fourth woman. I hate books where characters die, but I will undoubtedly give this one a try.

My new favorite author, Karen White, has a new novel out, released on May 12. The Sound of Glass follows a familiar Karen White theme – a young woman learns she has inherited a family estate that, of course, has a secret attached. The Sound of Glass takes place in Beaufort, South Carolina, which is a draw for me. I’m not sure I’ll get to this novel right away as White is very prolific and I have only recently begun reading her books. But I will definitely read it sometime soon.

Are there books either recently released or soon-to-be-released that you are going to read?

Thursday Thoughts

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Casual Day
Yesterday I made a trip to the bank to deposit a check. As I walked to the bank’s entrance, there was a 30-something woman walking ahead of me, and into the bank. I wouldn’t have noticed her except for the fact that SHE WAS WEARING HER PAJAMAS. I’m not mistaken. These were not just a t-shirt and those comfy flannel pants that I occasionally see people wear out in public that cause me to be slightly aghast. No my friends, these were full-out pajamas. They were lavender and had little teddy bears on them. Now, there have been a few times when I have caught myself just in the nick of time from leaving the house wearing my bedroom slippers. But it seems unlikely to me that she simply forgot she was wearing her pajamas. It must have taken her no time at all to get ready for bed last night.

Four Score and Seven Years Ago
After I finished my banking yesterday, I went to the nearby pho restaurant to eat my lunch. I believe I could eat pho three times a week and not get sick of it, and I’m not even Vietnamese. I frequently eat lunch there and read a book while slurping my noodles. I am currently reading the next in a series by Louise Penney featuring Chief Inspector Armand Gamache. The series is one of my favorites and I would like Gamache to be one of my friends. He is smart, kind, and extremely elegant. In the book, Gamache said that he hadn’t seen someone in over a fortnight. A fortnight. I want to use that word sometime in my real life. Like maybe when I’m getting a pedicure and I want to make an appointment for a couple of weeks down the road. I could say, “Do you have an opening available in a fortnight?” Or maybe not. It’s a good word, though, isn’t it? I would have to work on my British accent.

Hide and Seek
On Tuesday, Dagny and Maggie Faith and I went out geocaching, the high-tech hide and seek game that Jen and I are crazy about. I’m pleased that some of my grandchildren share my love for this particular hobby. They are game for anything and fairly efficient searchers. They are certainly dedicated. Unfortunately, my cell phone – which acts as my GPS and connects to the geocaching website – wasn’t working correctly. As a result, ISonic Slushes was unable to use it to help find the hidden treasures. It didn’t deter the girls one little bit. That’s probably because they don’t really understand how the caches get there anyway. It’s all a great mystery to them. I was able to determine that there was a cache located somewhere just inside a tunnel in a nearby park through which a tiny little stream was flowing. I’m calling it a tiny little stream in a valient attempt to convince myself that it wasn’t sewage. Anyway, we searched and searched to no avail. Dagny begged me – BEGGED ME – to let her walk through the long tunnel to the other side to see if it was there. I wouldn’t let her do that. “Why not?” she asked me with the most pitiful face imaginable. I explained that I didn’t really understand the purpose of the tunnel, and that I didn’t want her in the middle of it when some Denver water official decided to open up a spigot and the stream turned into a river. She was sad, but became less sad when I told them that one of my traditions of geocaching was going to Sonic afterwards and getting a slushy. In fact, the slushies turned into milkshakes, and they were both happy campers despite our geocaching failure.

Can’t Get Enough
So Bill and I are now absolutely HOOKED on biscotti. We can’t seem to get enough. Yesterday afternoon I made a batch, but decided to shake it up a bit by adapting a recipe I’d seen on Pinterest for Cinnamon Biscotti. I used the recipe I posted on Wednesday for Cranberry and Pistachio Biscotti, but instead of adding the dried cranberries and chopped pistachios, I formed the loaf and basted it with a beaten egg, then sprinkled it heavily with cinnamon sugar. After I cut the individual cookies, I sprinkled them also with cinnamon sugar. They are delicious. They taste like a hard, dunkable snickerdoodle. Yum.

Ciao.

Cinnamon Biscotti

 

Hard Cookies

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Back in 2000 (which will forever be in my mind as Y2K – the year the world was going to end and computers were going to blow up), my sister Jen and her daughter Maggie traveled with Bill and me to Italy. Bill and I had been before, and we were so excited to show off that country we loved so much to Jen and Maggie. We spent two weeks and had a BLAST.

At the time, Maggie was in her early 20s and absolutely gorgeous. (She’s still absolutely gorgeous, but no longer in her early 20s.) Her appearance gave us an advantage in many regards, not the least of which was getting into restaurants that were completely full. We would send Maggie in to see if there was room, and shockingly, they always found us a spot, at least if the spot-finder was male. One waiter was so taken with her that he actually had us take a picture of himself with her. Oh, to be young and beautiful.

Anyway, many years later when Maggie got married (but not to the waiter), at least in part because of her fond memories of her trip to Italy, she elected to have somewhat of an Italian theme for her wedding. As such, she decided to give an Italian theme to the treats she left in the hotel rooms for the out-of-town guests. I don’t remember what all she gave save for one thing. She included cellophane-wrapped packages of three biscotti.

You know, biscotti. Those hard quarter-moon-shaped cookies that Italians dip into their espresso. Or into their wine if they are so inclined. I’ve tried it. It’s delicious.

She was going to purchase the biscotti. But I told her that was a waste of money. I could make biscotti. She agreed and so I did. They turned out quite nicely, thank you very much. I don’t remember what kinds I made, but I do remember that I made a heck of a lot of them. We put three in a package and decorated it with curly ribbon.

As an aside, Bill, Jen and I spent an entire day preparing the gift packages for the guests. In addition to biscotti, she also had little bags of M&Ms. I still can picture Bill preparing those bags.  A handful for the gift bags, a handful for Bill. And so it went.

I hadn’t given biscotti much of a thought since then until our recent visit to Chicago. Wilma had some of the best biscotti I had ever tasted. They had crunchy pistachios and tart cranberries. They were crunchy and delicious when we would dunk them in our morning coffee and eat them without dunking throughout the day until – oops – they were gone.

Where did you get them, I asked Wilma. The answer: Bill’s brother Bruce. Well, of course.

So I sent Bruce an email asking him where he got the biscotti so that we could replace them. The answer will be no surprise to those who know Bruce – he got them at what he calls a salvage store. Bruce is the King of Tuesday Mornings and my bargain shopping hero.

We ended up buying lemon biscotti at Costco. But I couldn’t get the pistachio/cranberry biscotti out of my mind.

So I made some when we got home. And they are even better than those we devoured at Wilma’s. In fact, they are absolutely scrumptious.

Biscotti get their hardness from being baked twice – once in a loaf, and once sliced. There is absolutely nothing difficult about making biscotti, but it takes a bit of time. Time that is so well worth spending….

You first bake the loaf of biscotti.....

You first bake the loaf of biscotti…..

You slice them and bake them individually.

You slice them and bake them individually.

 

Here is the recipe…. Bon appetito!

Cranberry Pistachio Biscotti
Adapted from Giada DeLaurentis and Food Network

Ingredients
2 c. all-purpose flour
1-1/2 t. baking powder
3/4 c. sugar
1/2 c. butter, room temperature
1 t. grated lemon zest
1/4 t. salt
2 eggs
3/4 c. pistachios, coarsely chopped
2/3 c. dried cranberries, coarsely chopped

Process
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Line a heavy large baking sheet with parchment paper. Whisk the flour and baking powder together. Using an electric mixer, beat the sugar, butter, lemon zest, and salt in a large bowl to blend. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Add the flour mixture and beat just until blended. Stir in the pistachios and cranberries.

Form the dough into a 13-in long, 3-in wide log on the prepared baking sheet. Bake until light golden, about 40 minutes. Cool for 30 minutes.

Place the log on the cutting board. Using a serrated knife, cut the log on a diagonal into 1/2 to 3/4 inch slices. Arrange the biscotti, cut side down, on the baking sheet. Bake the biscotti until they are pale golden, about 15 minutes. Transfer the biscotti to a rack and cool completely.

Nana’s Notes: You can dip the cookies in a white chocolate or dark chocolate frosting, but I prefer mine plain. Keep in mind that the cookies don’t rise at all during the second baking, so you can set the biscotti right next to one another on the baking sheet.

 

 

Doing Swimmingly

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I can’t swim.

I believe I’m the only one in my family who is unable to swim. Don’t get me wrong; we are not a family of swimmers extraordinaire. No one would mistake my siblings for Missy Franklin or Michael Phelps. But if they slipped and fell into a swimming pool, they would be able to make their way to the side. I, on the other hand, would flop around until such time that I either was saved by a lifeguard or sunk to the bottom like a large boulder, leaving only bubbles on the surface.

My grandchildren are horrified that I can’t swim. Well, to be honest, Cole doesn’t mind much, but he probably will by time he reaches his second birthday. When they learn that Nana is unable to swim, they always tell me, “Nana, I can teach you to swim.”

No you can’t, I tell them. Because here’s the thing. The reason I can’t swim is because I’m terrified of having my head under water. There’s probably a name for this phobia. After all, there’s even a name for fear of vomiting – emetophobia. I have that too. But to be perfectly frank, I would throw up before I would put my head under water.

I have tried treading water. No can do. I don’t know why, but it probably has something to do with the fact that I’m afraid that my water treading will be unsuccessful and I will go under water.

What’s funny is that I’m not particularly afraid of water. I go out in boats. I lie on floaties in swimming pools (as long as I’m not in water that would go over my head). And I love to hang out at swimming pools, though I must admit I have a phobia about being seen in a swimming suit. Flabaphobia? I can and have overcome that phobia, however, as I’ve gotten older and began worrying less about my looks.

Addie in pool

Addie, unlike her nana, CAN swim.

All this is to say that it is somewhat surprising that one of my favorite things to do each summer is watch my grandkids swim. Addie, Alastair, and Dagny all participate on the swim team of the neighborhood swim club to which they belong. It is only a few blocks from our house, so I enjoy walking over there on nice summer mornings and watching them swim.

That’s what I did yesterday morning. The sun was out and I was feeling blue because my brother and sister-in-law who had been visiting for the past couple of days had left early yesterday morning. I decided a walk was in order and elected to walk over to the swim club and watch their classes.

I sat in one of the chairs right by the pool, watched them swim back and forth and back and forth and marveled at how tired they must get by the end of their lesson. I was also struck by the fact that their swim coach must have been a drill sergeant in a previous life (or perhaps earlier in this life). My favorite drill was when she asked them to swim the length of the pool and back and if even one child wasn’t “streamlined” after he/she made their turn, the entire team had to do it all over again. And she followed through. It made me tired to watch. I wanted to yell, “But Addie was streamlined!” but I kept my mouth shut. She might have tried to make me swim a lap, and, well, see above. Fear or putting head under water.

But I was blissfully happy sitting in the sun with the smell of chlorine and sunscreen wafting through the air. Because I was sitting right by the pool, when one of the swimmers would make their turnaround, I would get splashed. Particularly if they weren’t STREAMLINED. But I didn’t mind a bit. I guess I think if you are sitting next to a swimming pool full kids and are bothered by getting wet, you should go elsewhere. Maybe shopping at Nordstrom’s or something.

I’m happy that all of my grandkids are learning (or have already learned) to swim. I am not happy about the fact that I can’t do this simple thing. I don’t know what I was in any previous lives, but it definitely didn’t involve swimming.

 

Looking at Life From 18 Wheels: Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

Posted in Whimsies by

It’s been awhile since we’ve heard from my friend who looks at life from the cab of a long-haul truck….

36524_10200242706613215_2031204608_nBy Bob Botsios

Hello friends. It has been a while. Life on the open road has been pretty busy. Since I get paid by the mile, loaded or empty, and since federal transportation regulations limit working hours to 70 hours within eight consecutive days, I try to drive as much as my hours permit each day until I use up my 70 hours. Doing this maximizes my miles per week plus gets me one or two days off each week as well. It also limits my creative energy for writing. [My wife] Colleen believes that I got bashful about writing since I have a couple trucker buddies as FB friends, but I have special trucker lingo for them if they give me a hard time.

I have posted a few interesting things on Facebook as they occurred, such as the South Dakota spring blizzard, the poisonous snake sign, and the recent unfortunate shooting at the Walmart in Grand Forks, ND. I realized that as the weather warms I need to be especially careful at night taking an emergency roadside break. I would hate to disturb a rattler in the dark.

Two weeks ago I had a trip to stores in Bismarck and Minot, ND. It’s about two hours from Bismarck to Minot through some flat, treeless terrain with quite a bit of marshland in between. The highway also has a bridge about two miles long that goes over the huge reservoir, Lake Sakakawea. The lake stretches about 50 miles to the west of the bridge. Quite impressive. I was about five miles south of the bridge driving towards it. It was about 9:30 pm, had just turned dark but with enough light to create silhouettes of everything. Along the right side of the highway approaching the road’s shoulder appeared the shape of a huge, but unusually shaped horse. It looked like our destinies were about to collide as I slowed down a bit, flashed my bright lights, and honked the horn which caused the animal to go turn back into the marsh as I kept praying, “Get back, get back!” I got within about 100 feet before it turned at which time I realized the horse was not a horse but a huge female moose. A moose! That would have made a mess of things. I am always on the alert at dusk for deer, occasional loose cattle, but a moose….especially in that area. It was totally unexpected. When I arrived at the Minot store I told them about it, and they confirmed that every couple of years a moose is sighted in the area. I guess I was lucky two ways.

Just a couple of days ago I was driving south from Dickinson, ND, into South Dakota. This is wide open range country. It was late afternoon, still daylight and I had two races with two separate pairs of antelope along side the road. They were between the road and the roadside barbed wire fence. They were grazing as I approached at 60 mph and startled them. They took off in the same direction as I was traveling. They accelerated from a dead stop to about 50 mph in about two steps. As I got even with them they did a 50 mph u-turn on a dime. Very cool.

It’s been about two-and-a-half years since I started this new career driving a truck. I still having a blast doing it. Getting better and learning a little more every day. So far I have driven about 260,000 miles, and I am still amazed at the number of drivers that don’t turn on their headlights in the rain or at dusk. It’s even worse in Iowa. But, I am glad to know that none of my friends and family are in that group….Right? Also, I’m glad everyone did as I suggested last fall and changed your wiper blades. But guess what? It’s time to do it again to do a good job wiping in spring/summer rain storms. As the Godfather says, “Do it!”

Be safe.