Sometimes pictures tell the story better than words, and sometimes things get in the way of a well planned blog. I couldn't quite get organized in my head to send out a Christmas story with our Christmas cards, so I thought I'd write a blog about our year. This morning when I awoke, I must have hit the panic button when I realized that I had only two full days to write the blog, bake the cookies, fix the bean soups and the pasta salads, and whatever else popped up.
After the grocery list had been made I decided to first bake the GF Pumpkin cookies that I dearly love, then spend a few hours compiling our year in pictures for the blog. Three hours later I created a mess that even my friend, Terri Street, couldn't help me out of.
The recipe called for:
1 cup softened butter
1/2 brown sugar
No problem. I put these ingredients in the big red bowl and set them aside.
Next, I blended one egg with a can of pumpkin.
Then I got in a hurry because my mind strayed to my blog, and I wanted to share an especially funny story from our trip to Scotland, where we learned that "there is no bad weather, just inappropriate clothing." That was our first lesson in the cool wet climate filled with pasture land, rugged hills, and breezes off the great northern waters. How many layers of clothing can you wear and still walk, climb castle stairs, and play golf?
I turned to pick up the Pamela's Baking Mix that is gluten free, forgot about cooking, and smiled remembering our Weaver cousin family reunion that we hosted in October.
We are all shining examples of Baby Boomers. I was born in 1947, Tom in 1948, Fred 1949, Dana 1950, Jonya 1951, Patty 1952, and Gary 1954. Sadly, our youngest cousin Gary died in 2007 and I inherited his lost and lonely little dog, who has become our vibrant Lucy dog companion. Most of our children were able to attend and these cookies that I was about mix were a big hit with a family of 2-3 who eat gluten free foods.
The buzzer on the oven reminded me that I needed to bake the cookies. So, I plopped the pumpkin and egg mixture into the 'uncreamed' sticks of butter and piles of sugar and brown sugar. Still not thinking about cookies and steps in the cooking process, I used my trusty hand held mixer to mix the cookie dough. ACK!
The mixture turned out with tiny yellow butter bits the size of couscous mixed with the pumpkin. I stirred and stirred to no avail. In desperation I called Terri Street, my friend who knows how to cook like a chef and will laugh with me not at me. She suggested I put small portions of the lumpy dough into my blender and see if it could save the dough. If had remembered her exact words "small" I might have been successful. Instead, in frustration I dumped it all in the blender and hit MIX. At that point I realized it was mixing only the bottom inch or
two of the blender. I start screaming in my head, where is the off button. I dished out the top 3/4 of the mixture, took out the well blended part, and hit mix again. At last, I took my wooden spoon and tried stirring the mixture down into the blender, only to hear the blades go thunk thunk thunk when they hit the spoon. With the thunking and the lid off, I felt the pumpkin mix hit my cheek and saw the spots on the my glasses. I punched the off button and sighed.
By now I felt like a wild young scientists trying to save an impending chemical reaction. What more could go wrong. Do I dare go take the clothes out of the dryer and take moment to relax? Why not? Leaving the kitchen with pumpkin from the floor to the cupboards I walked to the laundry room and promptly removed the jeans and sweatshirts all of which were covered with static cling Kleenex that flew through the air and stuck on me. Finally, I giggled and picked up scattered Kleenex and shook out the sweatshirts in the garage. Now the garage looks like it snowed.
At last I finished blending the mix and even feeling a hint of success with the mixture blended and not lumpy. I took a moment to clean up the area, foot mopped the floor all sticky with pumpkin, and to wash dishes. Imagine my surprise when I picked up the wooden spoon and noticed, for the first time, that the end of the spoon had been cut to shreds by the blender. My eyes scanned the horizon for pieces of wooden spoon, and then the realization hit me.
The slivers of wood were in my cookie mixture. Defeat!
I truly did run out of the house with spoon in hand yelling for Jack.
Such love and admiration I have for my kind and gentle husband, who reassured me that I was not crazy. At his suggestion we threw out the orange blob I suggested that we go to buy two dozens assorted cookies from Fancy Cakes and then relax over lunch at
Fancy Cakes is closed on Monday. Amy Cakes is closed on Monday. No panic here. Their signs say open Tuesday. Lunch as La Baguette soothes me and cheered me up with Christmas delight as I saw several friends. Just in case of closures Jack is shopping for more sweet ingredients to make either "Dawn's Ranger Cookies" or the memorable "Pumpkin Cookies."
I Am Woman, hear me roar. Maybe Helen Reddy was not that good at cooking either.
Merry Christmas, and Most Joyous Wishes to all.
Letty, Jack and Lucy