Olie

Olie is only 2 1/2 but already has the reputation as a funny kid. I watch Olie and his brother Aidan on Mondays while Afton is at work. Last week I decided to let Aidan help make a jello salad. They love to "help" in the kitchen. Aidan was really pleased to get to cut up the bananas saying excitedly that he had never cut up bananas before. I left to get the camera and log in the event and could hear them laughing hysterically in the kitchen. Apparently the banana slice would stick to the knife and while they waited for it to drop into the jello mold, Olie would say in his giggly little voice, "Wait for it...wait for it...wait for it". He was drawing out each phrase with the drama befitting a seasoned actor, each phrase higher in tone until the climax of the banana slice dropping off the knife. Then the hysterical laughing would begin, followed by another cut and the drama would unfold all over. Who knew making jello was so much fun.

Olie narrating the banana caper.

I am a hunter with my camouflage shirt and pants, gun, cowboy boots and hat.

I am a hunter/cowboy who can also shoot baskets.



Olie the bank robber.

Seriously?

In the last two weeks, Terry and I have been trying to get our routine doctor visits completed. This is not always easy to schedule and still care for grandchildren and grandma. On Wednesday Terry had an appointment at 8:15 a.m. and I had one for 11:00. We literally passed each other in the garage with a "high five" at our ability to tag team with precision. My appointment was a mammogram, and when I returned home I began to describe with detail about the discomfort of the ordeal ending with, "...and then after hydraulically compressing these two metal plates ...(I swear I could hear the beep, beep, beep sound of a fork lift as these two plates were coming together.)... she asked me not to breath, as if I could have done anything else but hold my breath under the circumstances." With absolutely no sympathy from my spouse he proceeded to whine about the fact that he had been a human pin cushion that morning with far more damage to his body that I had sustained. He had had blood drawn and a couple of shots and his arm still hurt. "In fact" he said, "feel this, I still have a huge knot on my arm under this bandage. " He did have a bulge, but I pointed out that if he had had his "member" place in a vice, he would be singing a different tune, and more than likely and octave higher.

The following day I asked him how his arm felt, curious as to whether the shot was still giving him a problem. He confessed that he took off his bandage that morning, and what he thought was a swollen knot was in actuality a cotton ball that the nurse had put under the bandage. Seriously? All I can say is I am glad men don't have to have babies.

Too Cute!

Too cute! That's what I said when I saw some fabric cupcakes similar to these that my sister Bonnie made. I knew I wanted to try a few myself. So I borrowed her pattern and began searching my scraps and project remnants. If you are a do-it-yourself kind of person it is amazing how much one accumulates over the years. Fiber fill...check. Sand...check. Notions, fabric, thread...triple check. Fusible interfacing...oh no...I am a little short. This means a trip to the local craft and cloth center. If you have never been a fabric junkie, you won't understand. I have been clean and sober for many years, due in part to the fact that I have been working and my children have grown up. But now I have time on my hands, and junkies should never frequent the source of their addiction. I managed to make it through the first visit with only a few additional pieces of material to round out my color scheme in the first set of cupcakes. Did she seriously say first set?

Well let me explain. My friend Verna just retired. She was my neighbor for many years and we would often sew for our children in those early years and share our ideas and projects. She had seen my blog about the dresses and decided to make some for her granddaughters. So she invited me to go to the store with her to help her pick out some fabric. Now if the cupcakes are cute as a decoration, why not something seasonal like Christmas cupcakes, or 4th of July. I entered the store and those July 4th fabrics were front and center. I started flashing like Chuck. (Chuck is a Monday night series where this computer geek kid/CIA agent has implanted in his brain information such that when he gets into a dangerous situation his mind sees or flashes before his eyes all the defense moves necessary to attack the situation.) Unlike Chuck, my mind was flashing decorating ideas and fabric combinations for my 4th of July cupcakes.

To top these cupcakes I wanted flags and pinwheels instead of the flowers and ladybugs as on my previous spring decorations. Here is where I ran into a snag, because although I could find the flags and pinwheels, they were on toothpicks and too thick to go into the fabric. Enter problem solver Terry. The children call him MacGyver, and for good reason. I have seen him fix a sea doo by making the broken part out of a tuna fish can and a bean can using some tin snips and screws. I have seen him fix a tractor with a plastic Pepsi bottle. So he is the logical person to ask in this situation. He looked at me point blank and asked "Didn't you ever make blow darts as a kid?" Add juvenile delinquent to his resume. I am certain that I saw the same jungle movies as he did as a kid but somehow missed out on the making of blow darts. It is a good thing he grew up in the late 40's and 50's. Back then little boys had boyscout pocket knives and played Cowboys and Indians. They probably had some mercury in their pocket because it was so cool to roll the ball in the palm of your hand, then put it on the ground and smash it with a hammer, watch it break up into tiny balls all over the place and then collect it again into one ball. It was a time when people would shrug and say, "Boys will be boys!" In today's climate, where a 5 year old is suspended from school for bring a plastic butter knife to show and tell, Terry would probably be on death row for making blow darts. Anyhow, you make blow darts by cutting off a match head and cutting of the head of a straight pin and then pushing the straight pin into the match. Then cut a slit in the other end of the match with a pocket knife and put small pieces of paper to simulate feathers. Put the dart into a straw and blow. For my project however, we cut the head of the match off and inserted one end of the match in the flag or pinwheel and the other end of the match held the beheaded straight pin. This allowed the flag/pinwheel to slide easily into the cupcake. Wow, this really is "Life in the Slow Lane".

Hot Cross Buns

Just to put my children's minds at ease, I would like to start off by saying that nowhere in this new post will I publish pictures or reference your father in a thong bikini. However, this is about his buns so to speak.



I have mentioned before that Terry (for some reason unknown to me) has decided to become profecient in the making of bread. Maybe it is because he likes to eat bread. He also likes hot dogs, but not just any dog. He likes them in the casing that gets hard when you cook it and crackles when you bite into it. Recently we happened to be in Phoenix close to a meat market that specializes in dogs and picked up several varieties. But here is the delima, for Terry anyway, he doesn't like any of the bun offerings at the local grocery store. So he decided to make some. He checked the internet until he came across the recipe that he thought would provide what he was looking for and whipped them up.




Then he made me Chicago dogs for lunch. (Information on everything in a Chicago dog bun is also on the internet) They were quite tasty I must admit. The only negative I could see was that he made the buns a little big. (Is there a hidden message there?) Now if I could just go to Chicago some day and try the real thing, I might be able to make a true comparison. I might also need to have Wanda revise my kitchen towel from saying "Mary Kaye's Kitchen" to read "Mary Kaye and Terry's Kitchen" because I have clearly lost control.

Duck Tales

In a previous post (Arizona Spring) I mentioned the Ducks who decided to live in my backyard. Since 7 of the ducklings died while we were off on a trip, Terry stepped up his Daddy Duck position and went to the local feed store to pick up appropriate food. He wanted them to be healthier than a steady diet of just Cheerios. Let's face it, our pool isn't teaming with pond scum and what ever life lives around a natural habitat. With the new diet the babies were thriving. Then trouble arrived. Apparently other ducks got wind of the easy life that existed on our side of the fence. Free food, free lodging, and some old guy cleaning up every day after you. So we got a couple of new squatters. Another male and female that thought they could nest here too. First there were turf wars, where they tried to chase mom and babies from our pool.

Here they are heading into the pool after the mom and babies.

Then there was posturing and gang violence.

Daddy duck couldn't let that happen. So he collected some lemons from our tree and lobed them at the illegal ducks in our pool. They would fly off, but as soon as we went into the house, they would fly back over the border. Mother duck was concerned for her ducklings. We had two concerns. Protect the ducks that were already here, and no way were we going to allow more squatters. There is a limit to the number of ducks our backyard can sustain. The "war on ducks" lasted for several days. Terry with his lemons and the ducks taking flight. Terry said if they didn't stay in their own territory he would bring out the heavy artillery. Before you get all liberal "left wing" on us let me be perfectly clear. We have no problem with ducks. We just have a problem with illegal ducks. Especially since we are footing the "bill". So, like many politicians and T.V. commentators like to say..."If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck." We reserve the right to determine which ducks live in our back yard. (We also hope they take flight before summer as it is starting to get hot and we want to utilize our own pool.)

Chocolate - My Ememy, My Friend

Sunday was Mother's Day and a woman new to our ward was both surprised and delighted to see that instead of handing out a flower to each Mother, we received a bar of See's Chocolate. She exclaimed that she had moved many times and lived in many wards and this is the first time she received chocolate. I believe it started in our ward quite a few years ago. At that time our bishop was the husband of one of my "Nuance friends", Jayne Sargent. Nuance was the name of our singing group, and we would get together once a week to rehearse, talk and laugh and eat chocolate. It was well known by our husbands that each of those things were and integral part of the whole. So when Jayne's husband became bishop and the discussion came around to what to get the ladies in our ward for Mother's Day, Paul suggested, "Why don't you get them what they really want - chocolate!"

There have been a lot of studies done on chocolate. Dark chocolate, my personal favorite is the most healthy. Among the findings are that it stimulates endorphin production which gives the feeling of pleasure and it contains serotonin, which acts as an anti-depressant. Any woman could have told you that without the studies. Well...maybe not the scientific words, but what woman when depressed, doesn't head for her own stash of feel good chocolate. Chocolate also has antioxidants. It has nearly 8 times the number found in strawberries! So when I eat chocolate dipped strawberries I am really eating healthy.

So that is the friend part. In my current position of caregiver for my aging mother-in-law I have needed my friend often. Unfortunately, the enemy part is obvious.

This is all leading up to a new recipe I just tried. It comes out of the April Bon Appetit magazine. If you like chocolate, then you must try the "Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake". It is made with both bitter sweet chocolate and cocoa. The mayonnaise makes it moist. Go figure. The frosting gives new meaning to butter cream and I discovered that it tastes really good on strawberries. So here is the best way to eat this cake. Take a very thin slice. It is 3 layers, so a thin slice will do ya. Then put on a large dollop of cool whip topped with sliced strawberries. The strawberries and cool whip seem to balance off the richness of the cake. I am serious. Oh, and I am incurable. I will always love my chocolate.

Pat-a-cake, Pat-a-cake, Baker Man

Terry's brother makes wonderful bread. He has been doing this for some time now and occasionally we are recipients of his creations. That is terrific. I like this arrangement. However, as if Terry's retirement hasn't been stressful enough on me, he has decided that he wants to make bread too. He just couldn't be happy in the garage playing with his tools, he had to invade my kitchen!!! And true to form for Terry, every new project requires new tools. Never mind that I have made bread for our 42 years of marriage, apparently I haven't had the right tools. He spent a great deal of time on the Internet looking at recipes and watching bread making videos. He spent a great deal of time shopping for just the right tools and grains for his new concoctions. (For which I had to find new space.) Now, he has spent a huge amount of time in my kitchen experimenting. I don't think he has found the perfect bread yet, but he is still trying.

I suppose you ladies are saying how you wish that your husbands would do more cooking, and there is an up side I would admit. These loaves of bread certainly look lovely, and hey, they were tasty too. But we don't live in the boonies and I could buy bread faster and perhaps cheaper. (Remember the new tools?) But here is the down side. He literally slings flour everywhere!!!

Terry's Latest Project

Terry loves his retirement and keeps busy by working in his shop, formerly known as the garage. Many of his projects are pieces of furniture that I think we need at the cabin and he indulges me by making them. Last fall while "window shopping on line" he found a guy who had just cut down a huge alligator juniper tree in the Forest Lakes area, about 2 hours north of where we live in Tempe. Terry called him on the phone and within a couple of days we drove up there to take a look at the pieces of lumber. I had previously looked at a lot of furniture and taken pictures of things I wanted him to copy, but when I looked at that beautiful raw wood everything I originally thought I wanted went out the window.

We selected several pieces and I told Terry that I thought I would like to keep the tables with the free form edge of the tree and even leave the bark on it for a rugged look. The wood grain, the knots, everything that came naturally with this wood was beautiful. Terry agreed.

Terry cut, sanded, clamped, glued, drilled, welded, stained, varnished, and invested a huge amount of time and energy. Here is the result of his hard work. I think it blends in perfectly in our cabin setting.

Arizona Spring

Springtime in Arizona is wonderful. While much of the country is recovering from rain and mud, or snow melting into a muddy slush, we enjoy green grass, flowers and the sweet smell of citrus blossoms. Honestly, to walk out into my backyard on an early April evening and be greeted by the aroma from our orange, grapefruit, lime, and lemon trees is truly heaven. And it never gets old and it never ceases to amaze me.

This winter we received as much rain as we normally receive all year. As a result, the cactus are in a rare abundance of blooms. I walked down to a neighbors house to snap this shot. Unfortunately they positioned their cactus in front of a cable box so I didn't put in a picture of the whole cactus but did you know they could have such beautiful flowers.

While I was out I snapped a picture of my Iris. They grow without any help from me, which is good because in spite of my last name, I am a lousy gardener.

Every spring, for several years now, a couple of mallards (male and female) have flown in and spent a week in our pool on their way north. This year however the male left and for some reason we would see the female every now and then. We never put it together until the day after Easter when she along with her nine little ducklings were found swimming in our pool. Her nest was tucked in under the shrubs in the picture. The mom could hop in and out of the pool just fine, but the ducklings were too small. So Terry made two ramps for them to walk up, complete with floats to keep the ramps in the water just right, and wood stops on the outside to keep the ramps from slipping away from the side of the pool. Currently only 2 ducklings have survived. We think that maybe the chlorine in the pool is not that healthy for them. We have been feeding them cheerios. They now swim right up to us to get their treat. Terry says when they fly off they will never be able to survive on their own so he is going to strap a box of cheerios on the the back of the mother with instructions for the next humans they come in contact with.

I honestly do not know how we missed the eggs and the nest. We had 10 children running all over our yard hiding and finding Easter eggs.

Here are some of the kids concentrating on making the most beautiful egg. The girls belong to Christian's girlfriend Liz.

We also celebrated Oliver's 2nd birthday and Trevor's 12th birthday. Olie really likes his cake!

Easter Dresses

As a child I loved Easter for two reasons. Dyeing the eggs and the picnic and hunt that always followed and a new dress to wear for Sunday. Dad would always try to find a new park or lovely wooded area for us to go to for the picnic and Easter egg hunt. Mom would always make a new spring dress for me. There would usually be lace, or ribbon or rick rack on the dress and more often than not...lots of ruffles. I am sure it became a greater challenge as more and more girls were added to the family. I don't know when she started making the dresses for Easter, but if it were me, by the time there were 5 girls in the family I'd have to start sewing the day after I got Christmas decorations put away. One year she decided to make us all matching dresses. I believe they were lavender gingham. This was fine with me, I was the oldest. But in the Thurston family except for the occasional new dress, you wore hand me down clothes. I am sure my youngest sister Cheryl was really tired of that dress by the time she outgrew all five of them.

My first 3 children were boys and although I did sew for them, the T-shirts and shorts didn't cut it for me. I longed to make a frilly dress. Then I had Afton and enjoyed a few delightful years of little girl dress making.

With 8 grandsons and no granddaughters I have had a bit of a dry spell. Every Easter I look at the cute little girls in their frilly dresses as they prance into church and sigh. This year I decided to do something fun. Christian has been dating a girl who has two daughters, ages 4 and 7. I decided to make them sundresses and Afton brought over her sewing machine to help sew and make the process faster. After making the dresses, I decided to make their Barbie dolls matching dresses.

It's Snow Fun!!!

I grew up in California where it snows in the lowlands about once every 10 years and then it leaves at best a dusting of snow on the ground. I was always fascinated by the Christmas cards we would get every year. Pictures of homes covered with snow or maybe a horse drawn sleigh with people bundled up in traditional wear going through a forest covered with snow. I was especially fascinated by the cards that glistened with sparkles all over the snow. But to my knowledge they were as much of a fairy tale as Cinderella. I remember my parents taking us to the snow once. It was probably in response to constant begging to go on a snow outing. (Both of my parents grew up in Utah, loved the California sunshine and had no desire to go to the snow.) We had no snow clothes so mom saved plastic bread bags and took them with us. These would go over our tennis shoes to be boots and over our sock covered hands to be the waterproof portion of our gloves. They were suppose to stay secure with rubber bands. She made some hot chocolate in a thermos and also some hot chili for our lunch and we drove into the mountains. It was not snowing at the time. The roads were clear and the patches of snow we played in was muddy, icy, and not at all like the Christmas card. Cold, and wet, we were ready to leave in a very short time.

The Christmas card snow remained a fairy tale until my freshman year at BYU. I remember the first time I saw snow fall. I remember being fascinated at how it could stick to the tiniest branch or the wire of the fence and much to my surprise and delight it did in fact sparkle. I remember going to class and running so that I could slide on the sidewalk. It was delightful, and I actually had gloves and boots instead of plastic bread bags. Sure I had to listen to other students sarcastically muttering, "You can always tell a kid from California." But I didn't care because it was real snow. I learned to ski a couple of years later.

Our family has spent many delightful winters swooshing down the slopes listening to the sound of the snow under our skis and/or snowboards. We have played, fought snowball fights, ridden snowmobiles, and made snow sculptures. We still have hot chocolate, but now I enjoy it with my grandchildren. We have had two recent adventures. In December we had Afton, Greg, Ethan, Aidan, Oliver, Christian, Liz, Natalie and Ashley at the cabin. In February we had Coleman, Tanisha, Jason, Nick, Trevor, Ryan, and Erik at the cabin. Since the Winter Olympics had just begun during our second trip, we held the Gardner winter Olympics in the beautiful San Juan Mountains of Colorado.

Whenever Erik fell he would yell, "I'm O.K. I'm O.K."

This is the little known Olympic "bumper sled" event.

Aidan and the icicles.

Ethan with Oliver in his "Ralphy" (The Christmas Story) suit.

I could never do this blog without the constant help of Afton.

The Real Santa

Twenty plus years ago, Terry wanted me to make him a Santa Suit. Not an thin, flannel one mind you. He wanted his to look authentic, fake fur and all. So we went to S.A.S, a local warehouse that sold remnant fabric by the pound where we could get the best deal. The material was so thick that I broke several needles but he had the best Santa Suit ever. We later learned the folly of making an authentic looking outfit for a locale like Phoenix, Arizona.

Late on Christmas eve we headed off to homes of friends and family to put in an appearance. Most of these people were expecting us, as we had been able to reach them ahead of time by telephone. However, we were not able to catch the Jameson's. This was before cell phones or e-mail, and we couldn't really leave a message on an answering machine that a child might hear. After a couple of stops we headed to the Jameson's. We sat in the car outside their house wondering what to do. They didn't know we were coming, but on the other hand, Santa doesn't knock on the door! I said, "Just go for it. They are our friends, they won't mind." It was a warm night, I mean really warm. Santa was sweating. But because it was warm, the Jameson's had their door open with only the screen door closed. This was good. Terry took his pack, opened the screen door and singing a Christmas song he backed into the family room of Lorraine and Brent Jameson. (He backed in so that if anyone was improperly dressed they could escape with a minimum amount of embarrassment. ) The general surprise of everyone, including the parents convinced the children that this was the real Santa. When Terry turned around he acted surprised and befuddled and asked the children why they were still up. After giving them candy, he told them he would have to come back after they went to bed, and we left. For years the Jameson children would recite the account of the year the real Santa came.

This Christmas, I reflected on how fun that was and I remembered that Afton and Greg had a spy camera. It is activated by motion and Greg has put it up in the forest to follow the activities of elk. He can then watch the activity on his computer. I checked with them first to see if they had the camera at home, and since they did I suggested that they let the Children help set it up to "spy" on Santa. Terry posed for some great pictures. When Ethan showed up at our house Christmas morning he delighted in telling everyone how he fooled Santa. He just giggled and shook when he showed the pictures. He was so cute. His favorite picture was Santa's backside.

Terry's Christmas Workshop

Holidays are always hectic around here and this year wasn't any different. With all of our children and grandchildren living within 30 minutes of us all of our celebrations include a lot of people and confusion. Terry added an extra edge on his time by deciding to make all of the grandchildren gifts. He went to his workshop and hand crafted knives & sheaths for most of the boys. (All of our grandchildren are boys.) Erik, Coleman's youngest boy had a birthday in December so Terry had already made him a wooden knife, so Erik's gift was a tomahawk. On Christmas morning, having seen his cousins open up their wooden knives, Erik seemed confused with his gift. Upon looking at the tomahawk the first thing he said was, "Is this a weapon?" When we replied yes he yelled,"Cool!" Terry made real knives for the oldest two grandsons and one for Afton. The knives came in handy as we were opening our gifts. Terry had one sealed with packing tape. Terry always carries his own pocket knife but when he reached for it on Christmas morning he realized it was not in his pocket. He muttered that he needed a knife to open his gift and our 4 year old grandson Aidan quickly produced his wooden knife out of it's sheath for Terry to use. We all gave looks to each other as if to say that is not going to work. However, not wanting to disappoint Aidan, Terry opened the gift. The proud look on Aidan's face was priceless.

The top picture is the dagger Terry made for Afton. The center picture is Ethan and Erik admiring Erik's tomahawk. The third picture is Nick's knife. The handle is made out of walrus oosik. If you want to know what that is, look it up. We loved the look on Nick's face when he realized what he was holding.

I'm Here

I have been wanting to do this for some time now, but it was a matter of my daughter helping set this darn thing up! I have finally managed to do so, but I am still unsure of how it works. So I will post another when I have figured it all out.
Thanks for stopping by.