Homemade Christmas

This past fall when a good friend introduced me to the Advent Conspiracy I was inspired! What if I spent less this Christmas on things like gifts and decor? What if I took the money I saved and gave it away? What if everyone did this, what kind of difference could we make in this world?

My husband and I decided that the way we would "conspire" this year was to give only homemade gifts. I broke out the old sewing machine, and after a lesson on how to thread it from a friend, I was off. From a few simple ideas stole from craft blogs our house was transformed into Santa's workshop. I loved putting new fabrics together in interesting ways. The sound of my machine humming along while a Jane Austen book played in the background made me peaceful. I was well on my way to finishing over 30 homemade gifts for the season.

While all of this was going on, my family was getting in on the act. I had a vision of a white paper Christmas. Instead of buying new decorations to add to my haul, we purchased one ream of white copy paper. From this humble beginning our Winter Wonderland would emerge. Hundreds of paper strips became the paper chain that now covers my celling. My husband discovered his gift for cutting out delicate and exquisite snowflakes. Lastly a dozen origami cranes flew in to give new life to my old fake green wreath.

I was feeling pretty Martha Stewart about the whole thing, and had even mailed off two boxes of gifts when I left to pick my kids up from school on Tuesday. While driving 55 on the highway a pick up truck pulled out in front of me without warning. I smashed into him at near full speed in my almost new car. My car didn't make it, but thanks to the grace of God I did. I have no broken bones, just tons of soft tissue damage in my neck, back, arms and legs. This damage makes it difficult for me to sit for any length of time (this blog has been done in many starts and stops) without my hands falling asleep or my neck deciding it is time to quit.

Now my sewing machine sits on the dining room table with my last project still hanging from the needle. It, along with about 5 other projects will remain unfinished for now. My dear husband is working his tail off to keep up the house, cook the meals (he does a lot of that anyway), and keep up at work. He does this all with out one word of complaint, and a smile upon his face. The kids help out as much as they can as I sit and stretch and try to heal.

I am the kind of person who feels the need to create. I paint, sew, and write, not so much for others, but more for myself. Long ago I realised that it was the simple fact that we are crated in the image of God, the Great Creator, that gives us all the innate ability to create. The creative process is for me a form of worship. The connection I feel with my Lord when I am expressing myself is beyond description. But now in this season of healing I will have to learn how to simply "be still" and know Him.

So, my Martha Christmas will have to wait. There are dear friends and family members who gifts will arrive sometime in January. I refuse to go out and spend in a desperate attempt to get something in the mail. After all , I am part of a conspiracy and that is not to be taken lightly!

Soft Spice Bars (one of the many ways my husband is spoiling me)
3/4 cup butter melted
1 cup plus 1 tbls. sugar divided
1/4 cup molasses
1 egg
2 cups all purpose flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp. salt

In mixer or mixing bowl combine butter 1 cup sugar and molasses. Beat in egg until smooth.
Combine flour, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, ginger and salt. Stir into molasses mixture.
Spread into a well greased 15x10x1 baking pan (reg sized cookie sheet works great)
Sprinkle with remaining 1 tbls. sugar
Bake at 375 for 10-12 min. or until lightly browned. Do not over bake.
Cool and cut into bars.

The Land that Time Forgot

Whenever we head to what my children refer to as the "Big City" (I am speaking of Kennewick, WA. Never heard of it, that is ok, I hadn't either until I moved here. Trust me it's not that big, but they do have a Target and a mall!) the first thing my 10 year old daughter wants to do is ride the escalators. That's right nothing makes that child smile like a flight of moving stairs. She could ride them up and down all day long. Heck, who needs Disneyland when you have thrill rides just two and a half hours away.

You always hear people sing the praises of small town child rearing. In fact when you ask the average person why they have returned to The Valley, the most common response you will hear is "I wanted to raise my kids here". I though I fully understood the pros and cons of a small town upbringing, after all I didn't exactly grow up in a metropolis. But growing up in the suburbs in California did not even begin to prepare me for my current parenting experience.

When I first met my husband I would listen to the stories of his child hood and think "he has got to be making this stuff up". His youthful antics sounded more like the memories of my parents than of someone my own age. A common phrase in our marriage has become "we grew up 700 miles and 35 years apart". But I was sure times had changed and that the "modern" Valley would be nothing but a shadow of the place he once called home. Yet again, I was wrong.

Sometimes I think this is the land that time forgot. One of my favorite past times when I am volunteering at my kid's school is to look at the class pictures of years gone by. (Our children attend my hubby's Alma Mater.) There is very little change from year to year and decade to decade. Sure the 80's tend to stand out with "the hair". But other than that the variations are quite small. Each class of around 20 children sports much of the same basic look, jeans and collared button-ups. I must say that is precisely what my kids wore this year on picture day. Boots still tend to be the norm, I think this has less to do with fashion than function. Most of these kids still have outside chores each morning before school.

This is the school where Dodge Ball has not been outlawed, it remains a class favorite during PE. The same school boasts a yearly Christmas Play. That's right Christmas, not Winter Play or even Holiday. (Please don't tell the ACLU, the kids love it and I would hate to see third graders drug from the auditorium in hand-cuffs.) My children attend class in the same classrooms my husband and his siblings once sat in. They eat in the same small cafeteria where lunch is prepared daily by local Moms complete with fresh baked rolls. As a parent you can join your child for lunch any day you wish, without calling ahead, for 3 bucks! In this same cafeteria, ornate hand made gingerbread houses provide a festive feel through the month of December. When the month ends one lucky child from each class will have their name drawn and get to take this treasure home.

I often fear when I take my kids to cities like Portland or LA when we visit family. I am not afraid for their safety. I am afraid they will not know how to act. They don't understand the subtle nuances of how people act in a city. They are not aware of how much space to allow people in crowded areas. They are use to everyone around them looking and talking just like them. I try to expose them to different cultures and foods, but there are just some things you miss out on. They do love sushi, so I must be doing something right as a parent.

So, I am thinking about some sort of cultural exchange program. I will take my LA nieces for a few weeks each summer. They can come here and learn the finer points of Dodge Ball, camping, fishing and getting dirty. And I can send my two munchkins down to my sister for lessons in shopping, culture and escalator etiquette. After all, I don't think my daughter understands why people get upset when she runs up the down  escalator. I think they just need to get off of her ride.

The World's Best Peanut Butter Cookies
(I believe this recipe first came from my great-aunt Thelma. But they are the perfect cookie when you don't want to run to the store for ingredients.)
1 cup Peanut Butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
(yes, that is all!)

Mix together. Spoon by teaspoonful onto ungreased cookie sheet. Press flat with the back of a fork.
Bake at 375 about 11 min.
Makes 1 doz cookies (if you don't eat too much dough)

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree...

Remember those Hallmark commercials when we were kids? The family would tromp through a winter wonderland where they would find the perfect Christmas tree. They would cut it down, pull it back to their log cabin on a sleigh where they would decorate it with their million dollar collection of Keepsake Ornaments.

Yeah, right like that would ever happen!!

To say that my Mother was creative when it came to our family's Christmas trees when I was a child would be an understatement. We were three ladies, living on a hairdresser's salary in California. So the beautiful trees at the fancy Tree Farm were out of the questions. Sure we went there every year, we rode the hayride, drank the hot cider and ogled the decor in the gift shop. But we never purchased the spendy specimens found in their lots.

My Mom had other plans for our nod to this traditional Christmas decoration. There was the year that we headed to the lake where we cut down a Manzanita tree. Oh and who could forget the year that we decorated our silk ficus? Yes, my Mother had an amazing way of turning lemons into the most spectacular lemonade. The year did come when there was enough extra to purchase an artificial tree, which from then on did the honors in our home. We hated that tree. We mocked my Mom year after year, secretly wishing for her less conventional options.

Yesterday morning we loaded up our family and headed up to the mountains. Into the back of our all wheel drive rig (that is what we call any vehicle in these parts) we tossed in a saw, hot chocolate, blankets and snack. For 5 bucks they let you cut your own tree on public land. (Had this been available when I was a kid we would not have tempted fate and the law with that Manzanita. I do hope the statutes of limitations is up!)

Now, in years past this process has taken hours. It usually begins with us loading up the truck and heading up Fox Hill Road. About half way up this steep climb, our two wheel drive pick-up begins to slide backwards and I begin to panic. Thankfully my husband does not. He simply backs down the road and finds another location. We always end up somewhere up Spring Creek. By then I am in a bit of a foul mood (I know my family would call it more than a bit, but they are not writing this are they?) and will settle for nothing less than perfection. It takes hours for me to look over each tree in the forest. By the time the light begins to fade I make a quick pick. When we get it home my ever patient hubby trims and shapes my poor choice into something presentable.

Back to yesterday. We left the house at 8:45 am and made the brilliant move to stop at Starbucks on our way (everything is better when there is a latte in your hand). Instead of attempting Fox Hill in a two wheel drive we headed straight up Spring Creek in our AWD. The roads were icy, but the hottie behind the wheel got us up the mountain safely.  I, of course decided to begin looking for a tree where the road dropped off on a sheer cliff (I have never claimed I was much of outdoors woman). We scrambled down and into a beautiful grove of trees. Now for those who have never hunted down a wild Christmas Tree, let me take a minute to explain. Trees growing in groves are extremely deceptive. They look all full and lush, but only because they are all smashed together. It is not one full well rounded tree, but three or four scrawny ones huddling together for warmth that you are seeing.  So as the kids found an icy patch of snow to slide down on their bellies a la penguin style David and I searched for the elusive Christmas tree. With in 30 minutes we had two beautiful specimens loaded onto the top of the Santa Fe and were headed back down the road. They didn't even fall off on the freeway. Whew!

Now, this may not have been nearly as exciting as my Mothers law-breaking adventures, but we did have a pretty nice time as a family. Maybe Hallmark wasn't as wrong as I thought when I was a child. Maybe the Hallmark people just live in Oregon.

Tortilla Soup (a great way to warm up after the "hunt")
1 lg. ripe tomato
1 lg. onion chopped
1 clove garlic
6 c. chicken broth
tortillas
corn oil
salt and pepper to taste
avocado
grated cheese

Put tomato in broiler 8-10 min. Peel skin, put into blender.
In a small amount of oil cook oil and garlic, cook until onion is transparent. Season and add to blender. Blend.
Transfer to stock pot and add broth. Cook until slightly thickened.
Cut tortillas into strips and fry in corn oil. Cut Avocado into chunks and put some into each bowl. Add soup and top with cheese and tortilla chips.

Thankful

Today, I wanted to take a moment to tell you how thankful I am for all of you. I began this blog simply as a way to discipline myself to write more. As an artist I am constantly looking for new forms to express myself in a way that touches people. But a funny thing happened. I found that the more I wrote about my life, the more I enjoyed each day. Then, I was surprised and blessed to find that people actually wanted to read what I wrote. The icing on the cake was that you began to take time out of your very busy lives to comment both here and on facebook.

So thank you for joining me on this journey. Like every trip with me, there are bound to be some detours, bumps in the road and of course I will get lost a few times along the way. But as I have been taught by my Mother, that is the way you find the most interesting stuff. So sit back, buckle up and enjoy the ride!

Cheilon's Sweet Potato's (a family holiday tradition started by my sister's Mother-in-law, and now prepared by my children)

3 cups cooked and mashed sweet potatoes
1/2 cups sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 stick butter, melted
1/2 cup milk
1 1/2 tsp vanilla

topping:
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/3 flour
1 cup chopped pecans
1/3 cup butter, melted

Combine first 7 ingredients, mix well and put into casserole dish. Mix topping ingredients and sprinkle over casserole. Bake at 350' for 35-40 min.

I'm Dreaming...

As a young woman growing up in California I yearned for a White Christmas above all things. Two major factors stood in the way, the first being the rarity with which temperatures dipped below freezing and our approximate 100 feet above sea level altitude. I grew up in "orange country" and the thought of anything below 32' was dreaded by any farmer of this citrus. But for those of us kids, we were sure that with enough wishing someday Santa would deliver a white blanket of snow on Christmas Eve.

It never happened.

In my almost 8 years as a resident of the Blue Mountains (our house sits at around 3000 feet)I have seen many White Christmas', and White Thanksgivings, White Halloweens, White Easters, and even a few White Memorial Days. Those who have lived here for decades can add White 4th of Julys to the list.

I spent my first year in "The Valley" in turtle necks, boots and scarfs. I will never forget my first Women's event at the church. It was early May and somewhere around 50'. When I arrived at the church in my layers of wool, I felt a bit out of place. Apparently anything over the 45' mark that early in the year is cause for breaking out the capris and flippies (thongs for those of you over 30). As I eyed these "hearty" women (no I am not calling you fat!) with awe, I never thought I would count myself among them.

Flash forward to today...it is the week of Thanksgiving and we have already had two snowfalls. More if you count the ones that didn't stick. I will be starting the car a good 10 minutes early just to make sure the ice on the windshield is melted (I don't scrape!) This reminds me of all of the other crazy things living in a snowy environment has required.

1. Spent all day waiting to get my snow tires put on. This yearly ritual consists of waking up one morning to realize there is 3 inches of the white stuff on the ground and you haven't had your studs put on to keep from sliding into the other Moms in the line to drop off kids at the school.
2.Stayed overnight in a hotel or friend's house on the other side of the Mountains because the passes to get home were closed. (I hate the feeling of waking up in the same clothes I went to bed in and no toothbrush to boot.)
3. Shown up at major school events only to find out it had been canceled due to bad roads. (Hey I made it!)
4. Walked with the kids downtown because it was quicker than driving.(Might as well stop for hot chocolate.)
5. Gone sledding on streets that are closed for that specific purpose.(Have you ever seen a "closed for sledding" sign? I have.)
6. Watched kids arrive at school on snowmobiles.
7. Kept the kids out of school for a family snowball fight.(That's educational, right?)
8. Sat for hours in front of our picture window with a cup of steaming tea and watched as flakes the size of nickles pile up on the front lawn.
9. Ran out the door in sub-freezing weather in just a long sleeved t-shirt, because it was just a "quick trip to the store".
10. Worn flippies in the snow.(Okay, I have not done that yet, but I know tons who have.)

So, now I count myself among the "hearty women"(no this has nothing to do with my weight!). Better go start the car.

Scones with Cranberries (my hubby made these for my birthday this year)

2 cups flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 cup sugar
5 tablespoons cold butter cut into bits
1/4 cup half and half
2 large eggs lightly beaten
1/2 cup chopped nuts (we use walnuts)
1/4 cup cranberries (raisins work also, but they are yucky)

Pre-heat oven to 400' F
1. Sift flour, baking soda, and sugar into bowl. Add butter and blend until resembles coarse meal.
2.Beat together half and half and eggs.Stir into flour mixture, until just combined.
3.Add nuts and cranberries.
4.Pat dough onto floured surface to about 1/3 in. thick. Cut into rounds or into triangles.
5.Bake on buttered baking sheet for 15-20 min.

Fashion Police

Today I wore a new fabric rose that I made. I not only love it, but I am kind of obsessed with these Anthropology inspired accessories. I have made them in every color for myself, and may even give a few as gifts this Christmas. It was with great pride that I pinned a medium sized cream and pale pink blossom to my brown cord jacket. It made me smile...for a moment. Then I began to think about all of the comments I would receive at church. "What is that?" and "what's up with that thing on your jacket?" ran through my mind. I took one more quick look in the mirror, drew in a deep breath and walked out the door.

Don't get me wrong, I go to one of the most accepting and loving churches on the planet. It doesn't matter if you stink, are dirty or come to service in your PJ's, you are welcomed in with a hug and open hearts. We are family who love one another deeply. It is just that people are not use to some of the things I choose to wear.

I have always been a bit of a fashion dare devil. One of those kids who pared mismatched prints with polka dots in elementary school. The girl in Jr High who was stacking Swatch watches, not only up my arm, but also in my hair. In High School it was a journey into all things Hippie, followed by a head first dive into Grunge in college. Even living in California, my fashion sense was not always accepted. I am not saying I am a great visionary ahead of her time. I simply love clothes and have worn what I like no matter what the norm. But somehow, amid the thousands of other clothes junkies I didn't stick out quite so much.

In a area where jeans are a socially acceptable option for weddings and camo is for more than just hunting, I tend to stand out a little more. I guess I can't blame people, you have to really go out of your way to know the latest options in fashion. We are not inundated by media bombardment, enticing us to purchase the newest looks. Kids do not segregate themselves based on who is wearing what. In fact, half of the school year is spent covered up by winter coats and snow boots. So if people don't know what a Capelet is or why I would wear somthing that resembles the love child of a sweater and a poncho, it is ok.

I just really wish my own son hadn't said "Hey Mom, why do you have that thing on your coat?"

Iced Pumpkin Cookies(Hot out of my hubby's test kitchen)

Ingredients
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, softened
1cups white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup canned pumpkin puree
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Icing
2 cups confectioners' sugar
3 tablespoons milk
1 tablespoon melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions
1.Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves,ginger and salt; set aside.
2.In a medium bowl, cream together the 1/2 cup of butter and sugar. Add pumpkin, egg, and 1 teaspoon vanilla to butter mixture, and beat until creamy. Mix in dry ingredients. Drop on cookie sheet by tablespoonfuls; flatten slightly.
3.Bake for 15 to 20 minutes in the preheated oven. Cool cookies, then drizzle glaze with fork.
4.To Make Glaze: Combine confectioners' sugar, milk, 1 tablespoon melted butter, and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Add milk as needed, to achieve drizzling consistency.

'Tis the Season

It's that time of year again. The time that many look forward to with breathless anticipation while others dread as if the plague has returned. Yep, you guess it,it is that magical time of year known as Hunting Season.
I myself grew up as a casual observer of this annual phenomenon. Once a year my father, grandfather and when he was old enough, my step brother would pack up the RV and head out for a week or two. They took guns, tons of food and came back smelling so badly that we knew that there was no way they had spent the time with other women. I vaguely recall them bring home some sort of dead animal once, but that is as far as it went.
It was with this background that I meet my husband. When he told me he hunted I thought I had a good bead on the concept. Boy was I wrong! Not only does my husband hunt, but so does his father, brothers, uncles, aunts, sisters, cousins and the stories of his mothers ability to shoot from horseback are legendary. And I was completely unprepared for the amount of time this venture could eat up. I once met a woman from the area at a Thanksgiving party and asked her to coffee. She told me that sometime around February would work as there was nothing "open" that month and her husband would be around to watch their children.
Much like the modern, overly extended "Holiday Season" that runs from four days after "back to school" through Valentine's day, Hunting Season lasts a number of months and includes various shorter seasons.
We begin in the late summer with archery season. Now, I for one do not understand how flinging a stick at a 800 pound animal is fun, but hey what do I know? Maybe it is the twelve hours of tracking the blood trail that adds to the appeal. Then we move on to early bird hunting followed by the riffle seasons for big game. There is nothing better than driving through town and seeing the severed head of a deer or elk in the back of a truck. One would think by the crowd gathered to oggle the kill and hear the story that this was a rare sight. But the men standing around the truck most likely have another such kill in the back of their own truck. Next comes the extremely popular water foul season. Men travel from all over the state to sit in near freezing water for hours waiting for the opportunity to lure ducks and geese to their death.
My own love affair with hunting was short lived. A few years ago I had the great idea to pack up the kids and spend the week at elk camp with my hubby. His brothers and cousins had not drawn tags for that season and I looked forward to the time with just the four of us. But as we drove miles and miles further from the nearest town, or even the closest house I began to feel I may have made a mistake. To make a long story short, my dream of quiet days knitting and reading while awaiting the love of my life's return did not quite pan out as planned. While my hubby hunted between the hours of 4am and noon, I quickly used up my entire supply of yarn. And when he returned to the field from 3pm until dark, I burned through the stack of books I brought at a rate I had not foreseen. By day three I was out of options and feeling the effects of cabin fever. As we packed up to head home early (day 4) I recounted my excursion into solitude and realized that having two emotional melt downs in four days may mean I am not cut out for homestead life.
But never fear hunting and I have made peace. Now on Saturday mornings the man and boy child head out sometime long before sunrise, while the girl child and I sleep in. They come home covered in mud and bearing birds to be cleaned. I stand at the window and watch my kids chase each other around the yard with duck feet as my husband makes sure that whatever meat comes into my house looks like it came from a butcher shop. I sip the Starbucks they picked up of me on the way home and hum to myself "It's the most wonderful time of the year"!

8 1/2 Buckaroo Marinade (the best thing to soak any game meat in, but don't use with chicken)

1 1/4 c salad oil
3/4 c soy sauce
1/4 c worchestershire sauce
2 tbls dry mustard
2 1/4 tsp salt
1tbls pepper
1/2 c red wine vinegar
1 1/2 tsp dry parsley
2 cloves crushed garlic
1/3 c lemon juice

mix all together and soak meat (any red meat works well) and veggies for 12 hours. grill slowly so veggies don't burn.