Betty Crocker Cookbooks

When I moved out for the first time at age 19, my mom gave me this wonderful Betty Crocker Cookbook:

This one was published in 1983. As you can tell from the cover it is well used and well loved. This thing was GOOGLE before Google as far as finding a recipe, converting measurements, substituting one thing for another, how to do anything whether it was cutting meat or measuring flour, and how to bake, broil, saute, poach, and lots of other words that I don't use while cooking despite Betty Crocker's attempts to enlighten me. Anyway, this book always had my answer! (but I usually called Mom for her opinion too).

Here's a couple more pages:

I mean, I never really used the fish garnishes, but they were there should I need them. Haha.

I inherited my Grandma Lou's Betty Crocker Cookbook from 1961. This is one of the few items that survived their house fire in the early 70's as you can see from the cover and pages:

In this one, Betty gives you handy tips on how to do a table service. I also like that it has my grandma's writing with some of her favorites noted (on the cover Thermidore, and inside Chicken Fried Steak). And how 'bout that table of desserts? There are far too few gold scale centerpieces these days!

My mom also had this 1961 book and I spent many a bored afternoon as a teenager baking from these awesome recipes. In fact, this is where my famous Bear Turds came from:

Finally, again, my Grandma Lou's Betty Crocker Cookbook from 1950:

This one had a surprising number of color pictures. Makes me wonder how pricey this was back in the day? One thing about these books, they always had the cutest little clip art throughout their pages.

It's just entertaining to flip through and read the handy tips for the presumed audience of housewives in their little cotton dresses waiting for their men to return from bringing home the bacon.

These cookbooks are definitely a part of our family legacy. My mom made a point of giving one to my sister and I to get us started as independent women (in the kitchen).

It looks like there is still a recent incarnation:


Look at her, all woke and whatnot with Pho!

(This has been a non paid advertisement for Betty Crocker Cookbooks.)

My 100th Post! aka Beware Long Rambling Post Ahead

In honor of my 100th post, and in following with the great blogging tradition, I am listing 100 random things...some about me, some about my family, and I sincerely hope it doesn't turn into the most rambling and inexplicably boring post ever. So here goes nuthin'...

1. I was a 9lb baby with chubby cheeks and a full head of black hair.
2. My mom had a best friend who was a hairdresser, so my mom's hair color changed on an almost weekly basis. Sometimes she was a platinum blonde, sometimes a bright redhead, sometimes a brunette, she always kept us guessing!

3. My mom's hairdressing friend used to try out new techniques on my mom before she used them on the paying customers. My mom remembers having her pulled through a frosting cap, and commenting, "Ouch, this will NEVER catch on!"
4.Fast forward 25 years to her and I frosting each other's hair at our dining room table. Mom never really got the hang of going into the holes at an angle with the crochet hook, and I swear she pulled half my scalp through the cap in the process. Ouch indeed!
5. My sister got stuck with the "pixie" hair cut as a child. Again, I think this had to do with mom's friend and the popularity of Mia Farrow and Twiggy.

6. My uncle committed suicide when I was 6. I still remember being in our living room when I was told about it. I don't think my dad was ever the same after that.
7. My favorite number has always been 7.
8. When I was little I thought the perfect age to be would be 17. I figured you were grown up, but not yet "old". My thoughts changed when I actually experienced being 17.
9. My parents took us on wonderful family vacations when we were growing up, such as:
10. Banff, Canada
11. Jackson Hole Wyoming, and the Grand Tetons
12. Yellowstone
13. Glacier National Park
14. Zion and Bryce Canyon
15. The Grand Canyon
16. Disneyland!

17. One of the highlights of our trips would be when mom and dad would let my sister and I go to a souvenir store to buy a memento.
18. I was horse crazy. I could take or leave the boys, but dreamed of horses all the time.
19. My parents probably spent the equivalent of a decent college education on giving me horseback rides at riding stables.
20. I say it was money well spent!
21. I wanted to be a boy when I was little, and enjoyed playing with the neighbor boys more than I did their sister.
22. We almost always played cowboys, and when the sun would go behind a cloud, we would pretend that it was nighttime.
23. I had a ratty old cowboy hat that I would tuck my long hair under.
24. When I was 6 my mom let me get my hair cut short like a boy's.
25. It was not attractive.
26. I didn't care.

27. My sister and I had to share a room until I was 13 and she was 17.
28. She was always neat and tidy, I was, shall we say, NOT.
29. It's a wonder she didn't kill me and hide my body under the disaster area that was my half of our room.
30. My dad worked the swing shift as a railroad engineer, so during the week it was just mom, my sister and I together in the evenings.
31. We would often have "catch as catch can" for dinner, as my mom would call it. Sometimes this meant baking a batch of blueberry muffins and eating the entire dozen, or fixing soup and a sandwich or even a just bagels and cream cheese. I liked these low-key nights.
32. We would often go out for soup and half a sandwich at our favorite pie place. The soup and sandwich was just a formality and the sooner we got that out of the way the sooner we could do what we were really there for -- eating pie!
33. My dad lived to embarrass the heck out of us.
34. When we would go to the mall, he would hang back, so we wouldn't have to be seen walking with our parents, but then would kick off his shoe and send it flying by us. Oh, the horror!
35. He would also stop in front of the Hammond Organ store and dance to the goofy music that the salesmen would play. Oh, the horror, part II!
36. I think it's hilarious now, and following his example, enjoy embarrassing the heck out of my own kids!
37. I am deathly afraid of water. Especially deep water and fast flowing water.
38. I really don't even like taking a bath. It's completely irrational.
39. I am not afraid of snakes however, and think they are one of the coolest creatures ever.
40.100 is a lot of things to think up.
41. I was a painfully shy child.
42. I finally broke out of my shell a bit after the birth of my first child, when it became easy to make small talk with people about my baby boy.
43. Shyness held me back and because of that I missed out on a lot of fun things and was quite lonely as well.
44. I quit playing the saxophone in 6th grade when I found out that we would have to perform a short piece on stage.
45. I never went to a school dance (with the exception of my 8th grade graduation dance where I actually shared a slow dance with my crush, and then returned to the wall where I stayed firmly planted the rest of the evening).
48. I avoided teen parties at all costs, even going so far as to choose sitting in my boyfriend's truck for 2 hours rather than go in and attend the party with him.
49. I've made great strides since then and done things I thought I never would like:
50. I became a La Leche League leader and conducted meetings.
51. Danced in public!
52. Taught dance classes.
53. Said the opening and closing prayer at church (though not without some difficulty!)
54. I had a serious boyfriend at the age of 14.
55. He lived two houses down, my sister's future husband was our direct next door neighbor. Tracy and I met them within a couple months of moving into our new house.  
56. I dated my boyfriend from age 14-20, and he was 3 years older than I was. We were both transplanted from the mountains to the city and instantly bonded over that and spent all our time camping, 4 wheeling and dirt biking.
57. I considered him my best friend, and preferred hanging out with him and his buddies working on cars and doing guy things rather than hanging out with girls and dealing with their cattiness and drama.
58. I was WAY too young to have a serious relationship, and my mom said much later, that she didn't really want to allow it, but he seemed to be the only one that could make me happy at the time. I was a troubled teen before I met him and definitely not headed in a good direction. My parents adored him and he never failed to get me home on time (despite any misadventures, truck stuck in the mud, broken down vehicle issues we had).
59. When we first got together we had to bump start his pickup, so I would happily get out and push that thing any time so we could get on with our adventures!
60. I gave up alcohol at the ripe old age of 17.
61. After trying to fit in and drink with the others in our group for a couple years, I decided that I really didn't like the taste of alcohol, and I really didn't want to be in an altered state of consciousness--ever.
62. I celebrated my 21st birthday completely sober and I have no interest in drinking alcohol whatsoever.
63. My grandma Lou had a saying, "You're meaner than cat crap under a bed!"
64. My mom's housekeeping advice to me when I moved out was, "If you keep your dishes done and your beds made, everyone will think you're a good housekeeper."
65. My dad's housekeeping advice to me when I moved out was, "Clean the pee out of the bathroom, and cook the snot out the eggs."
66. I'm better at following my dad's housekeeping advice.
67. The first and last time I went to Yosemite I was 5 years old.
68. I live 2 hours from Yosemite and am beginning to feel guilty for not visiting it, since people travel from all over the world to do so.
69. I hate scary books and movies.
70. As a teenager I read Steven King's Salem's Lot, and have not picked up one of his books since.
71. I wanted to be a forest ranger when I grew up.
72. If I could start my career path over I would pursue midwifery.
73. We had a big orange tabby named Poopsie when we were growing up. I think my mom named him.
74. We also had cats named Marshmallow, Weebs and Bussy. I'm at fault for naming the last one.
75. Twenty-five more to go...who's still with me?
76. Poopsie would actually play hide-and-seek with me. I would put him in the laundry room, then run off to hide, and then call him. He would then come find me, usually by attacking me.
77. During my afore-mentioned angst-ridden teen years I became a habitual truant.
78. When my parents found out, they told me to just stay home, because they'd rather have me home and know where I was, than to have me cutting school and doing who-knows-what.
79. I took the proficiency exam at 17 and got my diploma.

80. After I received my diploma my parents told me, "Now go get a job".
81. The first job I got was washing dogs at a dog groomer. This is when reality set in.
82. I then decided to go to Beauty College and got my cosmetology license when I was 18.
83. I never worked in a salon, but I would go to people's homes and do their hair, and I had a fairly large clientèle of customers.
84. I put myself through junior college by working as a printer and getting scholarships.
85. Even though I got married and had a baby during my 2 years at college, I still graduated with my class.
86. ...and I graduated with honors, which is still one of my proudest accomplishments.
87. I began belly dance classes at the ripe old age of 38.
88. I was so lame and uncoordinated, that the instructor kindly suggested that maybe I should take a few private classes with her before continuing with the beginner's class.
89. For some reason I didn't get discouraged, and I followed her advice.
90. Part of it was that I was intrigued by the dance and really wanted to learn, the other part was that it was an hour and a half (including driving time) all to myself.
91. Almost 6 years later, I am a confident dancer, and more importantly, a confident person.

92. I refuse to go on roller coasters and thrill rides. They're in the same classification as scary books and movies, which I deem unnecessary torture.
93. My most overused phrase is, "For the love of Pete!"
94. One of the only good things to come out of losing my mom was that my sister and I are now much closer. My mom used to be our unintentional "go-between" by relaying to me what my sister was doing and vice versa so that we rarely talked to each other.

95. A long phone call with my sister is now one of my favorite things.
96. One of my favorite quotes is from Eleanor Roosevelt, "Women are like teabags. We don't know our true strength until we are in hot water!" I liken this quote to childbirth. I didn't know how strong I was until I went through the birth of my children.
97. I definitely felt empowered and proud after childbirth. I have had all 4 without any medical interventions or drugs, and 2 without the so-called "luxury" of a hospital.
98. Another quote I love, that I just recently discovered on another blog, Cairnsliving, is from CS Lewis, "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one." Truer words were never spoken.
99. I love to ride motorcycles, but am refraining because I need to stay in one piece for my children.
100. My kids are my greatest inspiration, my greatest blessing, and have been my greatest teachers. How lucky I am to be their mom!

And now a hearty pat on the back if you made it to the end of this post!

The Rainbow

Today is the 6th anniversary of my mom's death. It's hard to believe it's been that long already and there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of her, or want to talk to her, or miss her. She was my biggest fan, my rock, my closest confident, my sounding board. I hope I can be even half the mother and grandmother that she was.

Like I said in my earlier post, the day of her death wasn't traumatic for me. The few weeks preceding it were. From her admission to the hospital, to her diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, to her being sent home after the realization that there was no hope for treatment was a mere 3 weeks. It was like a nightmare that wouldn't end, with each day bringing worse news than the day before. I am thankful in a way that it was a relatively short time, because I know that Mom would've hated to waste away for months knowing there was no hope, but on the other hand, because it happened so quickly it was too much to absorb emotionally, for all of us.

The night before she passed she was at home in her bed and was having trouble breathing. She asked to go to the hospital and my aunt called 9-1-1 to have her transported. I remember petting her head and trying to help her relax and breathe while waiting for the ambulance. I was really torn at the time as to if I should accompany her to the hospital or not. Because it was late and I was 7 months pregnant and already stressed beyond my limits, I chose to stay at the house and try to get some sleep. The next morning my uncle called and said that she was gone.

I didn't know what to feel. I did feel a sense of relief for my mom that she no longer had to endure the horrible disease that was consuming her, but I also felt guilt for not being at the hospital with her, and I felt confusion as to what we were supposed to do now without the woman who was the hub of our family.

The weather that day was mostly sunny, but there were storm clouds here and there, and later as the extended family gathered at my parents house, one of my uncles went outside to take out the trash. He came back in and urged us all to come out and see something. There in the sky above my parent's home was a full, beautiful rainbow. We all just stood looking at it for the longest time and I think it gave us all the same sense of peace. To me it was a message that mom was now ok, and was somewhere beautiful.

Some days later my sister and I were choosing a design for Mom's headstone, and none of the flowers seemed quite right. We finally realized what we were looking for was an iris. Mom always loved irises and always had some in our back yard, and we agreed this was just the right flower, and we were able to find just the right image.

My mom in a field or irises

Due to my pregnant state, I was constantly obsessing over names and was always looking through name books. It literally took my breath away when later I came across the name Iris and saw the definition: Greek for "rainbow". From then on the rainbow became a symbol of my mom.

It was funny that in that first year how we would keep coming across rainbows.

My sister told me how one day she was sitting on the couch at my parents house and the light coming through the beveled glass on the front door was casting little rainbows all over her lap. She related that she felt a connection to mom watching the colors play across her legs.

One day I was unpacking boxes (as we had just moved into our house) and had come across a box that my mom had labeled when she had helped me pack some time ago. When I opened it and realized she was the last one to touch all these things I started to lose it. As I dug further into the box, I found a children's book and started crying even more as I remembered her reading this book to the kids. It was a story of a brother and sister who were fighting. Their fight is compared to the storm that is raging outside their house. As they make up, the storm goes away leaving a rainbow, and the mama says, "A rainbow is something beautiful that happens after a storm." To me this was the perfect illustration of what happened to Mom. Something beautiful happened to her after the storm of her illness. I keep that book in the top drawer of my dresser to remind me always.

There have been many other rainbow "coincidences" that have deepened my faith that something beautiful happens to us after our time on earth, and that our loved ones are somehow still a part of us even when we can no longer be with them.

Ranting Ahead...Proceed at Your Own Risk!

What a week so far! Honestly, when it rains it pours, but some promising things happened too.

Yesterday one of the daycare boys slapped Nat on the tummy and left his hand print. I didn't see the altercation, so I'm sure Nat was annoying him to some extent. HOWEVER, when I hear, "Well, she was doing..." before I hear, "Gee, I'm sorry..." I get very frustrated. I see this a lot, where kids will always see themselves as the victim, and not take responsibility for their own actions. There's always some excuse for their bad behavior. I see it so often that it makes me afraid for this up and coming generation. How will they deal in the real world?

When Mike got home I was in the front yard cooling my self down, as it was just a trying day all around. I had a kid that was back-sassing me, the incident with Nat I had just dealt with, and one of my 3 year olds had a potty accident, so I was at the end of my rope. When he saw the welt on Nat's tummy, he went to talk to the young boy himself. He said in essence, "You don't hit girls, and you especially don't hit MY little girl." I was glad that Mike had a talk with him. I really think that's one thing that's lacking in a lot of kids' lives (the boys I see especially)---a strong male influence.

Our tax lady gave us bad news last night about how much we owe. This was going to be one of the first years in a long time we were going to be able to file on time, but now that we've heard how much we owe, we will have to file an extension instead. And we won't get the President's incentive either--it will just go towards paying our debt. It really doesn't pay to be self-employed. Bah!

I got a call today from a local Lodge saying they will hire me for the summer running the snack bar and waitressing, so some of my stress about supporting myself once daycare is closed has been alleviated. I've never waitressed in my life, so it will be a new experience for me. I do know enough to know that I will work my fanny off!

I will be pursuing finding a "real job" with benefits during the summer and hope that this fall I will have a more promising employment.

Mike and I had a big argument this morning. I feel bad that I can't find enthusiasm for his endeavors, but we are in a real financial bind right now, and if I don't see something actually happening, I can't get excited about it. In other words, he was telling me that he wants me to support his goal of going big with his barbecue business, and how it will solve all our problems, but I just feel we need to do something concrete now, rather than just talk about something that may happen. I'm feeling pretty low that I can't have faith in his dream. I think there's a good possibility it could happen in the long run, but I want to fix our present situation first.

This is also the week of the anniversary of my mom's death. I try not to relive those last days, and after 6 years, I thought I was getting past it, but I'm still finding myself thinking about each day leading up to the day she passed away. I always try to do something special to remember her on that solemn anniversary. I would rather remember, than to try to ignore it. I actually think the weeks leading up to her death were the worst, and the day that she died I felt a sense of relief and happiness that she was no longer being tortured to death by cancer. So I think part of my problem this week is that I'm also feeling highly emotional.

I'm still hopeful that this week will redeem itself. After all, it's only Tuesday... I guess it will either improve or be The. Longest. Week. Ever!

Mom's Lasagna

Our niece has been put on bed rest for her pregnancy and today was her 28th birthday, so I decided the best gift for a pregnant lady on bed rest was food.

Last night I began the process of making my mom's lasagna. It's one of those recipes that dirties every pan in the house and is very labor intensive. First there's the meat sauce to make, then the cheese sauce, then the noodles to boil, and finally to put it all together. I doubled the recipe, because if I'm going to go through all that trouble I wanted a lasagna for us too!

It tasted so good tonight for dinner. All that hard labor was very worthwhile. I'm not much of a cook, in that I don't enjoy it really. I can follow a recipe well enough, but I prefer easy recipes like the ones on the back of the Campbell's soup can.

I am always surprised though when I make something and it tastes just exactly how mom used to make it. I seriously almost cried tonight when I ate that lasagna and it tasted like mom had come into my house and made it for us. For a minute I could just imagine she was still here working her mom magic on all of us...making us all feel loved and special, and it brought back memories of growing up and having my mom's best friend Pattie Anne and her family over for dinner. Mom's lasagna was always a meal that everyone requested and looked forward to.

I'm just thankful that I was able to do her recipe justice, and that I have a few of her special recipes that I can make and still have a part of her with me. Ok, I'm making myself cry now...I miss you mom!

What's in a Voice?

So many people mistake me for my daughter and vice versa when we answer the phone. I don't know how many times my husband has gone into detail over some boring matter with Sis before she could break in and say, "Do you want to talk to mom?"

Sis has a friend that gets us mixed up all the time too, and she has gotten to the point where she asks which one of us is speaking now instead of just assuming and launching into her conversation that was meant for Sis.

It seems it's not just me and Sis who have the same voice. My sister and I do too. When I call my dad I always make sure I tell him it's me, because he absolutely has no idea which one of us is speaking. And I remember as a teen, frequently having friends call and mistake the two of us. And we definitely have the same goofy laugh!

My sister said that we also sounded like mom. I know she's right because I can actually sometimes hear my mom's voice coming through me. This usually happens when I'm reading to the kids that I hear her certain inflection coming out of my mouth. It's a bit strange, but comforting at the same time.

It's funny how a voice can be inherited. It makes me wonder how many of my female ancestors also had my same voice. It's kind of a neat thing to think about. That even though the person is gone, the sound of their voice still lingers. Hmmm....

Just Following The Four Food Groups

(You have to remember a certain Carl's Jr commercial for this to make sense:)

Hot water. Tea bag. Box of See's. Don't Bother Me I'm Eating.

Hey, I never claimed I was eating healthy!

Which reminds me of my favorite Christmas movie, Elf, in which Will Farrell's character Buddy recites the 4 food groups according to elves: candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup! Yum! 'Tis the season!

My mom used to always give Mike and I a box of See's for Christmas, and I would very conspicuously scratch Mike's name off the name tag to see if I could make him crazy. It usually worked.

This year one of his subcontractors sent us a box. I picked it up at the post office, noted its weight and shape, then proceeded to scratch my husband's name off the label and replace it with mine. I knew exactly what this seemingly inconspicuous brown package contained and I was going to claim it as my own! My little label adjustment did not go unnoticed and I was thoroughly lambasted by my husband and Sis. Just a little Christmas fun you guys, sheesh!

As soon as a box of See's is opened I always claim the chocolate that has the caramel and marshmallow layers in it (the treasured Scotchmallow). I'm pretty sure none of my family knows that this particular candy exists, as they have never sampled it, let alone seen it. I plan to keep them in the dark, for as long as possible, if not forever. It's my little secret, Bwwahhahaha!

The other morning I was in a hurry to go finish my Christmas shopping while the kids were at school, so I grabbed a couple pieces of See's on my way out the door. I never got around to eating anything else, and on the way home I realized that I was famished. That's when I remembered that I had little candy canes stashed in my glove box and proceeded to eat two of them. Yum...got 2 of the food groups covered. If it wasn't for the candy corn I could easily adapt to the Elf way of life!

My Favorite Ornament

This is my favorite ornament. My mom gave it to me on what would be her last Christmas.



Of course we didn't know then that would be the case, and that in 4 short months pancreatic cancer would rob her of knowing her last grandchild, or seeing her grandson graduate from high school, or from watching her eldest granddaughter grow into a young woman, or seeing little Shelby be baptized into the church that she held in her heart.

So on that first Christmas without her, as I was trying to make it one day at a time through the holiday that she always brought so much life to, I came across this ornament she had given to me the year before, and that I had completely forgotten about. I remember just feeling so blessed to have this last gift from her.

Holding this in my hand it was like she was giving it to me all over again. I could see her holding me on her lap and it was as though she were looking right at me through the picture. I am touched every time I look at this ornament, and it means so much to me that she thought to give me something so meaningful.

I don't pack this ornament away with the rest of the Christmas ornaments and decorations, I keep it in the top drawer of my dresser along with other things that remind me of my mom: a score sheet from one of our Scrabble games, a children's book, and a birthday card.

Thankfulness for Warm Memories

I think Thanksgiving is when I miss my mom the most. She's been gone 5 1/2 years now. She always made the holidays so special. She would go all out decorating. She had boxes of rabbits and chicks for Easter, ghosts and pumpkins for Halloween, pilgrims and turkeys for Thanksgiving and Christmas was in a class of it's own. Every inch of her small house was tastefully decorated with lighted villages, Anna Lee dolls, heirloom ornaments and every Hallmark keepsake ornament you could imagine.

There was just something about Thanksgiving that was extra special. I think it was the coming together of family without the pressure of shopping and gift giving. Mom was a good old fashioned homey-type cook. She could seemingly effortlessly fill the house with warm delicious smells. My husband loves to cook too, and she gladly let him help her with all the Thanksgiving trimmings. The two of them would be out in the kitchen sipping wine, taste testing the meal, and giggling with each other. She did enjoy her wine when she cooked and I think she enjoyed having my husband as her wine-and-cooking buddy.

Gosh, when the meal was finally served it was incredible! After having smelled it cooking all day and being tortured by the mashing and slicing and buttering that took place in the last 30 minutes, it was such joy to take that first mouthful. There was always happy banter around the table as we filled ourselves to bursting with the delicious food. And always the last minute warning, "Save room for pie!"

Homemade pie and hot tea...that's a whole blog post in itself...

This year we had a wonderful meal that my husband cooked. We had a beautiful, perfectly done turkey and we had lots of laughs. My dad ate almost the entire apple pie I made--by himself--in one night! I'm glad I had a slice when I did after dinner, because by the time he had a couple midnight snacks and breakfast of it there wasn't any left!

So it's still the coming together of family, and the eating of wonderful traditional foods, but there is an emptiness that no one can fill that belongs to my mom. And after 5 1/2 years it's still there. I guess it always will be. I'm so thankful that she was my mom, but I miss her like crazy, especially during the holidays.

Snow on the Mountain

I'm making soup tonight. Soup Dinner soup. Our little co-op preschool has had a Soup Dinner for the kids and families every year for the past 25 or so years. Since all 4 of my kids have attended this preschool we have enjoyed quite a few Soup Dinner nights. The preschoolers cut the veggies for the soup and help get it in the pot and they decorate paper place mats for their family members, then that evening the soup, with its awkwardly butchered vegetables, is enjoyed by all.

Well, Sis remembered that this year, since we're fresh out of preschoolers, we aren't going to Soup Dinner. So she used the "Mommy" on me (see previous post) and today I'm making the Soup Dinner soup. I'm a little frustrated by the recipe as I am to add 1 can of tomato juice, 1 can of water, and 1 can of stewed tomatoes. No sizes. I'm guessing maybe 25+ years ago tomato products only came in one size?

Well I decided I would put in a big can of tomato juice because that seems to be the most common size, then I went to stewed tomatoes, and they seem to come in one size, but of course it's a different size than the juice. What about the water? Do I now use the big can or the little can? I chose the little one figuring I could always add more. This is not the first time I've made the soup, but it's been so long that I don't remember what I've done in years past. Today I'm going to make notes on the recipe--providing I don't completely mess it up.

This all reminds me of my family pastie recipe. That's PAST-EE, not PASTE-EE. Pasties (past-ees) are a Cornish meat and potato pie, pasties (paste-ees) are nipple covers. It's important to note the difference. Especially if you're having guests for dinner.

The recipe I have for pasties has been handed down on my dad's side of the family. His mom's family was Cornish miners who would take these pastry covered meat pies into the mines with them for lunch. Legend goes that the men would tuck their fresh from the oven pasties into their shirts on their way to work in the morning to keep themselves warm. Traditionally the pasties were made individually in a half-circle shape, but later they were made in a rectangular dish and called pastie pie which is an easier and faster way to make them, and works just as well unless you're in the habit of shoving it into your clothing.

I've been attempting to make pasties for years now. My mom was an expert at it. She took lessons from my dad's mother and grandmother, plus she had good cooking skills to begin with. My mom gave me the written recipe and I took lessons from her, but I still struggle with my pasties.

As with the soup recipe the pastie recipe is also a bit vague. I can handle grating the potatoes and carrots but here's a sample of when it gets a bit more difficult, "Cut meat and pile into a heap. Sprinkle the heap with pepper, and then enough salt so that it looks like a mountain with snow on top. Ok, I live in snow country, so I know what a mountain with snow on it looks like, but the first time I made pasties by myself they turned out so salty we couldn't even eat them. Apparently I was thinking more of a winter blizzard and the recipe was implying more of a spring flurry.

At least on my pastie recipe I make notes each time so that I learn from my weather interpreting mistakes. Even with my sorry pastie making skills (I won't even go into the challenge of making the pastry) they still turn out pretty darned delicious. Let's hope the soup fares as well tonight!

Special TV Bonding Time

Every Wednesday Sis and I make a bee-line for the couch at 8pm to watch America's Next Top Model. Yes, I admit it. Yes, I enjoy it. Yes they are a bunch of whiney, anorexic looking, brats, but that's what makes it so fun to make fun of. We love to hate the bitchy selfish girls and we love to root for the shy misunderstood ones. It's just a great show for female bonding time.

Tonight was the makeover episode which is the episode we look forward to the most next to the finale. It seems like someone always gets shaved bald, and tonight was no different. This one gal had colored and permed and abused her hair into oblivion and they had no choice but to use the clippers on it. Of course she did nothing but bitch, moan and complain about it for the rest of the show.

It reminded me of my beauty school days. There was this one girl at school who had bleached and dyed and permed and teased her hair into a soft platinum fuzz. I remember being kind of alarmed at the sight of it. She still didn't get it though. She was always trying to do more things to it. She had even bleached and damaged it so much that it was incapable of absorbing anymore color. I had my own name for her hair; I called it Frog Fluff.

ANTM brought other memories back to me too. It reminded me of the evenings watching a show with my mom. I remember we were big fans of St. Elsewhere and Knots Landing. We also watched all the sitcoms especially the Thursday night line-up on NBC, back when it was The Cosby Show, Cheers and Hill St. Blues. Those were really good memories of female bonding as well, and I feel really fortunate to have that feeling of bonding again with my own daughter. Yes, even a silly tv show can bring us together with the ones we love, and I'll take bonding wherever I can get it.