I returned from Seattle yesterday. I was visiting my daughter, her husband and the two grand-doggies. (They, Olive Oyle and Myrtle Byrd, know I’m their “Mommy’s Mommy” in every sense of the word. Upon my arrival, their glee was inescapable and they continued to shower me with kisses throughout the week. Last night my daughter called to say that Olive was sitting by the bed in the guest room, like, “Where is she? I love those little bums.) Like Jesus said, how can you not love somebody that loves you? I smile just thinking about it.
I got a birthday card from “T” yesterday. I was exhausted from travel and thought I would give her a call today to thank her. Here it is 12:51 p.m. and I’m still in a state of “just getting out of bed”, it feels so good to be home, I’m enjoying every minute of it. Upon checking The Jot and Tittle and I see there is a new post entitled Happy Birthday. How nice it is to be acknowledged. The fact that I have a few special people in my life that I treasure and to know it is reciprocated…it’s priceless and these are the things that bring me pleasure. I read the first paragraph grinning all the while. (I’m not opposed to birthdays, as some people are. I really don’t mind the rising number each year…I just don’t want to look tired. That’s the main goal in the fight against aging. If I could just look great no matter what the age…who cares. (I’m working on that. Not by wearing clothes that are too young for my age or plastering on the make-up. I just want to look fresh, clean, neat and modest..and the clothes classic..like a crisp white shirt and a pair of earrings. Maybe I’ll treat myself to that combo today…I think I will…a reason to get up and moving!)
Back to the blog…I only read the first paragraph and must stop to run and get my coffee. I want to enjoy this post at the most heightened sense possible. Both the blog and the coffee are delicious. Who is this woman I’m reading about? I want to go to her house! This must be how actors feel when they get a great review? If it’s all true, I thank you T for saying so.
8/23/08
I’m Not Opposed To Birthdays, I Just Don’t Want To Look Tired
8/22/08
Happy Birthday
Today is J's birthday. If you read a previous post, you would know that J thinks that hand written letters are rare in today's correspondence. She isn't far off and it isn't too hard to see why. You can send e-cards to your friends and loved ones for their special events or occasions, no trip to the card store required. E-mail and text messages have replaced most of our everyday correspondence and communication. I had contemplated sending J a handwritten letter for her birthday, but it didn't happen quite like I anticipated. I did send a real paper card, with a few handwritten thoughts in it. But it occurred to me that she probably wouldn't even recognize my handwriting. And since I am a self-admitted techno geek, I thought that a birthday blog post might work.
If you've read any of our posts here, and I hope you have, you probably picked up on a few things. J and I don't live in the same state. We never have. There are a handful of years between us in age and, of course, she's married and has a family and I am perpetually single (a little single joke, sorry). We have more than a few common interests and are often like minded in many things, which sometimes even surprises us. We didn't know each other as children; I didn't even know her before she was married. And yet through some mysterious and wonderful way, we are friends.
We don't have funny little stories and anecdotes from when we were teenagers together (however, she will gladly tell you about the Pepperoni Debacle of 2007 if you ask her to), but we share a commonality. We do attend the same church, which of course gives us that common denominator necessary to build a friendship on. But it wasn't until a little more than 2 years ago did we even have much contact. I knew her family, she knew mine, but that was the extent of it. The how and the why aren’t really important, but the relationship is.
Enough of the back story, my real intent here today is to paint a picture of my friend. I tell her often that I think she's wonderful. Probably as often as she tells me I'm a genius. The only difference is that she REALLY IS wonderful and I am certainly no genius. She has the ability to make people feel welcome. Not an easy task. I marvel quietly when I am with her. She is the woman spoken of in Proverbs 31. She would deny it. However, I can attest to its veracity. Whenever I've visited her I have always felt comfortable and at home, no matter if my stay was a quick overnight or a week long. She has a depth of understanding and knowledge that I admire and wish for. She has a great love for the word of God and the study of it. And I have never met anyone that could make even the most tedious or difficult passages sound exciting the way she can. Last year we were at a Ladies' Conference where she taught a workshop on scripture study. I knew what her part of the workshop was going to be, we had discussed it often before hand. I left that workshop, excited and eager to study. That's the mark of an excellent teacher, someone that can take a subject and present it in a way that you can't help but feel their love for it. It doesn't get much better than that.
She plays a mean game of Scrabble and routinely beats me whenever we play together. I enjoy spending time with her when we have the opportunity. She is genuinely kind. It's just part of her make up. She tends to think the best of people. That's refreshing in a world of pessimism. Don't get me wrong I'm not saying she's a paragon of virtue, she just doesn't assume the worst unless there's a good reason. Even then she's hard pressed to do it. I’m often impressed by her example.
When we do have the chance to spend some time together, I tease her that she is in constant motion. She really never stops. When I say this she thinks I’m crazy. I say it’s just an observation, which I follow up with a suggestion to relax. She laughs and keeps going. I understand her reasoning, but I will always suggest that she takes time out for herself. That’s just me looking out for my friend.
She's had her fair share of hardship and trial, as we all have, but it has not jaded her. She has a grace under pressure that's admirable. I'm sure, if given the opportunity, she'd argue these points, but it won't make them any less true. And while none of us are perfect, she is a really wonderful friend that I love dearly and I find myself very fortunate to be counted in her circle.
So, Happy Birthday J, and on this day may you realize your great worth and value and please, please relax!!
8/14/08
Yes, another post about the Olympics
There is a song that we sing in church that has a verse in it that I quote back to myself often, it makes reference to the assorted problems of life and how they can be exhausting. (Due to copyright issues I will not quote the verse or the chorus here, you’ll just have to trust me that this song is utterly fantastic.) This week I’m feeling a bit exhausted mentally. Too many decisions to make where I feel I’m simply choosing the lesser of the two evils. For me there are only two things to do when I am feeling this way, the first is to eat my weight in chocolate or, second, find something else to think about. Since eating my weight in chocolate would only bring me temporary relief and a more permanent weight gain, I opted for door number 2.
My distraction of choice happens to be the Olympics. Yes, I admit it I am an Olympic junkie. This is a useless information gatherer’s dream! (see this post for an explanation) I will confess that I prefer the winter Olympics; I’m more of an aficionado of that sport genre. But, hey, any port in a storm.
During these 16 days of competition I am at my information gathering best. Of course, all the major news outlets make the job much easier by having extensive information available with just a few clicks of the mouse. The stuff you can find out is amazing and I soak it up like a sponge. Yes, I know after the 24th of August this will all be in the past and even with the recent doping scandals that have been in the news I still find myself admiring these athletes that compete.
I was watching a replay of the USA Men’s Swimming Relay team win their gold, (Beijing is 12 hours ahead of us), and I have to admit I get teary watching the US athletes win and listening to our anthem being played. I am, after all, an American and have been blessed to be born in this country, regardless of its idiosyncrasies and problems, and in a day when Americans are hated I’m proud of our Olympic Team and wish them the best in their pursuit of their athletic dreams. Go Team USA!
The stars of these games, especially for those in a less popular sport, will have their moment. And for many it will be brief, but that moment can never be taken from them. I was listening to an announcer on the Canadian TV station, (they have real time coverage which I LOVE) say this about the athlete swimming next to Michael Phelps in one of his events, “that young man will always be able to say I beat Michael Phelps out of the turn!” Michael Phelps did win that event, but the other less known Olympian will be able to tell his children and grandchildren that he competed with the world’s best and that he was one of them.
China is having a banner Olympics, and I guess that’s to be expected, home field advantage and all. But I watched the whitewater kayaking event and the athlete from Togo, Benjamin Thomas Boukpeti, competed and won the bronze medal. Going into the final round he was in the lead, from what the color commentators were saying the course was very tough. I believe them, I would never even think about attempting kayaking, let alone the whitewater variety. He lost the lead and placed 3rd. When he was finished he was so happy he won a medal, he didn’t care what color it was. He was thrilled to win. I was thrilled for him. He won the only Olympic medal ever for Togo. The only medal EVER. Way to go Ben.
I could go on and on. The tidbits of information one can find during these action packed days of Olympic competition is astonishing. I am in hog’s heaven. I will read the stats, the obscure rules, and assorted random facts and commit as much to my memory banks as possible, regardless of what J says about me, I have limits. And for 16 days I will forget about the politics of the world and enjoy the thrill of competition, even if it is only vicariously. I will not fail to get misty when I hear the Star-Spangled Banner being played. I will enjoy watching gold medal athletes from other countries show their patriotism when listening to their anthems. I hope all the athletes from these games, whether they medal or not, live their moment. And if, by some chance, Useless Information Gathering could qualify as an Olympic Sport, I am so in!
8/9/08
Beading and T-Shirt Design
I read "T's" blog today about her ability to not only collect information but to retain it and pass it along. She literally knows everything. I told her yesterday that I think she's a genius and that her head should be bigger to contain a brain that size. You don't have to spend much time with her to realize that she is very intelligent. (Everyone says so. It's her claim to fame) So, if you've read through the previous posts you might know that I collect information too. My information, however, is not always available because, well, I do not have "total recall ability" but I do have "partial information retention". (I just made those up. It's a coping mechanism) It's okay though, I don't need to remember everything. I have all the information around here somewhere...I just have to look for it.
Today I went to the Jo-Ann Fabrics and picked up the materials for two different projects. (I love that store, they have everything.) Concerning the price of beads, and all things related, I have to mention that I was in a bead shop the previous day and even though their selection was great, buying beads individually can be quite expensive. I bought $44 worth of beads there and came out with two 2x2 inch bags of beads. I was mad at myself for paying that much. I wouldn't mind it if they were all special beads but they weren't. A lot were just ordinary, not so fancy beads. I think I'll save that type of store if I'm looking for something really special. (This is a new experience for me. I've read about beading and enjoyed others' work, but have never tried it myself.) I have a sister-in-law who makes her living judging horse shows. She travels quite a bit and so a few years ago she began beading for something to do in her hotel room. Well, she became quite good at it. Apparantly, she has quite the eye for this kind of thing and has begun to make some decent money on the side. Some people have begun to collect her pieces. She uses real stones and precious metals. And last year, I believe she sold about $40,000 at the shows and around town. Her work is outstanding, not your usual Plain Jane stuff.
Anyway, I'm not out to make any money, I just want to have a little fun myself. What I had in mind was to make a few bracelets to go with some of my outfits; mostly for everyday wear. What triggered the desire, enough to make me want to begin, is the bracelet that my boss had on the other day; the type of bracelet I think I would wear often. The stones were the size of pearls but black and hanging down was a small gold peace sign encrusted with diamonds. I know hers cost a fortune and I'm not willing to spend that much, so...I thought that I would venture out and see if I could create my own little version of it. You know, like a knock-off. I know lots of people get their inspiration for haircuts, design, etc. by looking through magazines and seeing what others have done and try to imitate it. Well, here I go...
I'll let you know if I become "a beader" or if this is called "making a few bracelets" and then putting the bead box up on the craft shelf to retire there. It doesn't matter. It's about enjoying the moment, trying new things.
Well, then I went to Jo-Ann's today and bought lots of strands of beads, all at 30% off. It was wonderful. They have quite a large variety; even some turquoise, freshwater pearls, crystal, etc. So, now I'm ready to begin. Without any instruction, (the difference between "Jot" and "Tittle" is that I, "J", will forge ahead without having read anything and try to figure it out as I go, and "T" would do a quick "scan", you know, like a computer; process the information and proceed knowing exactly what she's doing.) I began working on my first bracelet last night. I learned a lot, like all the things I shouldn't do. Ugh! (Maybe it would be better to read directions first.) I need some good tips on beading; making bracelets especially. I've Googled beading but didn't really come up with anything of great value as far as an instructional video. If anyone knows of a website or beading blog, please share. I just want to turn my beads into bracelets and wear them NOW. What's the easiest way to get started? (This is the gathering information, my way...)
The next project is something I've been thinking about for a long time; designing t-shirts. I have some good ideas that I want to try and a few books for additional inspiration on possibly modifying the shape of the shirt as well. I realize there are many ways I could go with this and the first thing I want to try is fabric markers. If the shirts come out as good as I had hoped, we will add them to the blog and make them available be way of Zazzle.com. Ooooo...I can't wait to get started!
If you know anything about beading or t-shirt design, I'd love to hear it.
Happy crafting!
8/8/08
Useless Information
The other night I was at home doing some computer related stuff, when I got a text message from my sister. She’s been taking a class at night and so I rarely have a chance to have an actual conversation with her lately. So, I was pleasantly surprised when I flipped open my cell and saw my sister’s name on the message. I opened the message and this was what I saw: “Okay I’m in class, solve this for me. What is the character’s name on Laverne and Shirley who dated Shirley .” I texted her back and she sends me another text that says “Man, you’re better than Google.”
According to my family, I collect, useless information. Now it doesn’t seem useless to me, especially when I’m searching for something, it is totally relevant. The need to know some obscure fact has led me down many a path. I file it away for recall in some situation when I might need it. It happens frequently. Looking for the information, not using the information. Before the advent of the internet, I was forced to trek to the library to find my information. Before I was old enough to go to the library by myself, my parents bought me a book that was called “Still more tell me why?” I LOVED that book. I still have it; the cover is hanging on by threads. If something interests me I go on a fact finding mission. I suppose it’s a natural extension of my love for books.
I have a survival handbook, you know in case I’m ever stranded in a blizzard and need to stay alive until help comes. I love how-to books, (something that J enjoys as well), so for a recent birthday my mom got me a book on how to tie knots. I couldn’t have been happier. What if I’m out some where and I need to know how to tie a half hitch? It could happen; I just want to be prepared. Once I decided it was important to be able to tell military time. Ok, so maybe that one was a bit of a stretch, I can safely say I will never be in the military, but if I ever need to synchronize my watch with a Secret Service agent I could.
Facts that interest me often have no rhyme or reason. They often come from just reading something and wondering if there is anything else related or connected to it. Here’s what I mean. Did you know that for every memorial statue with a person on a horse, if the horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle; if the horse has one front leg in the air, the person died of battle wounds; if all four of the horse’s legs are on the ground, the person died of natural causes. Now watch and see if the next time you see a statue of a person on a horse if you don’t try to remember this bit of info.
Here’s another: the white membrane under the peel of citrus fruits is called the pith, recently, I heard that this is supposed to be high in iron content, I haven’t found anything to support this claim but I’ll keep you posted.
This useless information is not limited to facts, no; I also have words that I will probably never use at my disposal as well. For example, vexillology which sounds like it might be a good major in college. (“What’s your major?” “I majored in vexillology and minored in English.”) It simply means the study of flags. Sometimes these words are helpful in Scrabble, but beyond that most cannot be worked into a normal conversation.
A "hairbreadth away" is 1/48 of an inch.
“&” is called an ampersand.
A group of larks is called an exaltation.
Lest you, dear reader, should think that this is just assorted flotsam of a disturbed mind, I also have some biblical bits you might find interesting. If you’re still reading this, please read on.
Shortest verse: John 11:35 – (Yes, of course, “Jesus wept.”)
Longest verse: Esther 8:9 – (it has 78 words in it.)
The raven was the first animal out of the ark.
The center verse of the entire Bible is: Psalm 118:8 – (“It is better to trust in the LORD than to put confidence in man.” Coincidence? I think not.)
I had to include this one here; the dot over the “i” is called a tittle.
111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321 (Now come on, you have to admit this one is kind of cool!)
The strike note of the Liberty Bell is E-flat. Also, Pennsylvania is spelled Pensylvania on the Liberty Bell.
I admit that I may never use most of these facts. Unless, of course, I decide to audition for Jeopardy or something, but they’re in there. Someday when I’m old and senile I may roam the halls of my nursing home and just spout out random facts that my brain needs to purge. Until that happens I will most likely get text messages and phone calls to verify some weird fact or to supply the piece of trivia that is being debated. And that’s ok with me, there are worse things to be known for. By the way, the name of the character that dated Shirley…Carmine “The Big Ragoo” Ragusa.
8/5/08
...And That's Just Peachy!
You’ll find out, sooner or later, if you are a return reader of the Jot and Tittle, that I am gardener. (See the previous post called “Pass the Youth Berries, Please”.) I have had a love affair with perennials for years, long before they were popular. Now they are extremely easy to find and sold almost everywhere. I remember when most of my purchases were through catalogues because it was the only place I felt that I could get a decent selection. Wayside Gardens had a fabulous pictorial catalogue, at the time, garnished with lots of information on each plant. I learned so much! I used to study those catalogues, planning and dreaming.
Most plants I recognize when I see them at the market just from reading about them. I amaze myself at times never having seen the real thing, and when I do, the name just pops into my head and I’m usually right. (Not always, but sometimes I wonder, “Wow, where did that come from?”) I have lots to learn. That’s where a gardening buddy would come in handy. I can’t talk to “T” about those living things we call plants. Even though she and I are a lot alike, this is one area where there is no common ground. The only plant she has is the Air Plant I gave her and neither one of us is sure if it’s dead or alive.
I have had four gardening friends at different stages of my life. The first one was a friend of my grandmother’s. I personally came to know her because of her great love of flowers. She lived along the road and I drove by her house all the time. She ordered lots of flowers through the mail, as I did and her yard was too irresistible to pass by. We became friends and every time I stopped for a visit, she gave me the grand tour and we inspected every plant. She always had a bag of dirt, a trowel, and was always trying to squeeze in just one more bulb or tuber amongst the already crowded beds. Her specialty was dahlias; many varieties of dahlias. Most of which were tall, the array of colors tremendous, and some as big as dinner plates; hence the name Dinner Plate Dahlias. Funny, one time when my son was very young, maybe 4 years old, we were driving by Mrs. McCullough’s house and he said, “Mom, is Ann your best friend?” I had to smile at that. He must have perceived how happy I was when I visited with her (and her garden). Ann passed away.
Along came another friend. (If you don’t know it yet, friends pass through your life, very few stay. I wish I were better at holding on to them.) Anyway, she lived in Ohio and our visits were relegated to just a few times a year. We became pen pals and much of our communication had to do with gardening. I came across some of her letters the other day and was surprised by the rush of emotion that came through each thoughtfully penned line. She talked about growing eggplant for the first time, planting a berry patch and her efforts at trying to revive poor soil. Letters were all I had left of her and decided it was time for me to do a little composting of my own. (That paper needs to be recycled!) She’s gone. I always knew she was weird and I loved her for it. Her laugh was nothing short of a cackle and most people, well, they just didn’t “get her”. We had so much in common! What does that say for me? Nothing really. When she got weirder, she just went away like a candle that slowly burns out. That was sad but I finally got over it….“Honey, don’t forget to set out the trash.” (Hey, I have plenty of love and was always a good friend but there’s something to be said for “moving on.”) Luke 9:5 “And whosoever will not receive you, when ye go out of that city, shake off the very dust from your feet as a testimony against them.” And that’s what I did…ten years after the fact.
The next gardening friend that came along was a new neighbor. (Looking back, it seems as though the Lord has always provided someone for me to enjoy the passion of gardening with.) She was different too. (I guess we all are) The first time I met her, I had gone up to their house, knocked on the door to introduce myself and welcome them to the neighborhood. She waved me in and proceeded to have an ugly, loud, sort of threatening argument with her bank over the telephone. I was uncomfortable standing there for what seemed to be a long time. It was almost like witnessing a crime. I wish I could have just slipped back out the door but I was sort of frozen there. Here, I was trying to think of a chivalrous way to get out of there but couldn’t come up with anything other than what would clearly be… an awkward departure. While standing there, I thought about the scripture that advises against “making friends with an angry man”. I understood, at that moment, the peril for doing so, was that I might very well be on the other end of her hurling abuse one day. Hum, scary. But, like a child I stood there wide eyed and waited for scene #1 to come to an end. She, did however, turn out to be a good neighbor. (Not with everyone) We had a reciprocal relationship. We went to a few auctions together and bought everything that wasn’t nailed down and laughed about it. (Just a country auction and mostly junk; shovels, spades, whatever.) I bought a big gold fruit basket for $4.00 that my husband hounded me into getting rid of. My mother scooped it up in a minute and it’s been over her fireplace ever since. I eye it with regret every now and then and promise myself that I won’t be goaded into getting rid of things that I really like anymore, no matter what! It’s happened too many times.
Anyway, my neighbor became my gardening friend. We didn’t see each other during the long winter months but as soon as spring rolled around and the hills and valleys of PA started greening up, she and I would reappear, as though we had been in hibernation, and resume our friendship. Shortly after moving here with her husband she created something in her yard that I didn’t think would work. After all, this was farmland and our houses were situated in “the fields.” Well, it did work. Her garden was lovely, peculiar for our area, just a little town; she had the only garden that was divided in sections, and each section with its own design. Really neat! The road was a little higher than their house making it easy for me to see her garden; a work in progress. They added to the garden, a pond with fish, a pagoda, a trail, an arbor for Wisteria and a lovely patch of Hollyhocks grown from seed. I stopped often for the tour and a chat. It’s a great learning experience. She was generous with me and I with her; sharing snippets of this and that. I still see the Red Hot Poker I gave her, it just gets better every year. Mine, however, seems to have fizzled out. I’ll have to check on it tomorrow and see if it is still there. A lilac bush now shades that spot and I probably need to move the Red Hot Poker to a sunnier, more agreeable location. Anyway, we remained gardening friends for several years until she got a divorce. Turns out her husband was giving her panic attacks. She was on medicine, could hardly work, but when she left him, she said that she never had to take another Xanax. She was healed…or had removed herself from the stressor. Funny, he seems like a nice guy. Who knows what the wild goose knows?? So, gardening friend #3 up and moved away. Her husband still lives there and guess what, he gardens. Trouble is, my husband isn’t keen on me having guy buddies, so I just, drive on by, drive on by, la, la-la, la, la. (Sung to the tune of “Walk On By.”)
Well, then came along gardening friend #4. Ahhhh….she had the prettiest garden on the smallest plot of ground that you’ve ever seen. She and her husband owned a townhome. They had a little patch of grass on each side of the driveway and a few feet of ground behind the house. She cultivated every square inch. No one could have done better; it was adorable and completely charming. I love old-fashioned flowers, shrubs and trees. She, on the otherhand, relished the latest varieties of hybrids, etc.; whatever was new. If it was new, she was the first in our area to have it. I often had no idea what she was growing. Her garden was always interesting, full of life and three dimensional. You name it, it was there: hardscape, sculpture, low-growing, climbing and always in bloom. When she mentioned that a toad was frequenting her garden I bought her a toad house. She chose an adorable, conspicuous location for the house…but the little dickens never moved in. Rats! Toads are so unpredictable. The clay dwelling inscribed “Toad’s House” looked none the worse, it just added more charm, if it were possible, to the already magical place.
She has given me more plants and starts than I could count, especially when they moved. She took most of her garden with her and what she couldn’t haul, she gave to me. This year I see her everywhere I look. My garden now boasts of many new plant varieties. The irises she gave me are large and a dark, sort of bloody red. That fabulous color has added so much to the look of my spring beds on the side of the house. I’m inspired to head in a new direction and revamp the whole thing. We'll see.
Since this is the first spring/summer that she’s gone, and I miss not being able to discuss the explosion of flowering plants and shrubs with her, I decided to write her a letter. With my pen I brought to life all of my garden’s glory, right there on paper. I knew she’d be delighted with every detail. Turns out, like most people these days, she doesn’t write much.
Doesn’t it say that man was not meant to garden alone. (No, I know it doesn’t. But it should, and one shouldn’t, garden alone, that is.)
The guy at the car dealership knows I garden. He’s always good for a solid fifteen minutes of gardening talk when I drop my car off for service. I have a mental picture as to what his garden might look like. I imagine it’s fabulous. I’ve heard him talk about the ground hog that vexes his existence and the year round hunt for the little guy. He, the groundhog, is quite elusive. I told him that my bird dog would take care of the situation within a week. (Of course, she'd have to do quite a bit of digging.) He looks as though he’s been in the military. I think he would rather hunt the enemy and, you know, get rid of him once and for all. No relocation program here. Anyway, gardeners love nothing better than to discuss what’s going on in their back yard. I guess that’s why garden clubs were invented. Hum, my plate is full, no room for a club.
By the way, there is a new housing development in our neighborhood. Approximately 20 houses have been built thus far and there are supposed to be about ninety in total. Maybe a horticultural enthusiast is headed my way. I’ll know just by simply driving by. If I see something more than a scant daylily, I might have to pick a bouquet of sweet smelling flowers and head over there to introduce myself. You know, like the welcome wagon, mulch wagon, whatever.
I’ll let you know if the miracle happens.
FYI - The abundance of peaches are so heavy on our tree this year, that the tops of the branches are touching the ground. We are just hoping to harvest the fruit before the tree collapses by breaking in half. (Time to prune!) This is a late peach variety and the peaches are just starting to ripen. It’s an absolutely delicious peach called The Georgia White Peach. I made my first peach crisp the other day and it was good. I used an apple crisp recipe, which turns out is not right for peaches. They need flour or tapioca, something like that to create to the right consistency. The crisp was a little soupy. Still heavenly, but soupy.
I can’t help but include another recipe. I’ve never had a peach pie like what I’m about to share with you ever! (And we come from a long line of pie bakers – we know good pie!) This recipe comes from my mother-in-law who is in her 80’s now, it was her mother’s recipe. If you want to delight your friends and family with a truly delicious dessert, this is it. It’s more of a glazed pie, you know, like they do with strawberries. The crust for this pie is the perfect compliment and you serve it with whipped cream or ice cream, if you like. Everyone will ask for the recipe….and that’s just peachy!
Fresh Peach Pie
Crust: 1-1/2 C. flour, 1 T. sugar and 1 t. salt. Mix together in pie pan. Add 1 T. mild to ½ C. Mazola oil in a small bowl and whip. Add to flour mixture. Press evenly into a 10”pie pan, bottom and sides. Bake at 375 degrees 10-15 minutes until lightly browned.
Filling: Mix 1 C. sugar, 1 C. water, 2 T. cornstarch in pot and cook until it bubbles – stirring on medium heat. Remove from heat and add 3 T. peach jello and cool.
Add 4 C. sliced peaches (about 7 med. Peaches) to filling. Pour into crust and refrigerate. Top with whipped cream.
8/1/08
Hey...Would You Like To Be In A Country Band With Me?
Well, with things changing so rapidly here at home I thought it was high time I invested a little in, yep that’s right, myself. I have played the violin now for about 18 years. I don’t usually tell people how long I’ve been playing because they would then expect me to be an accomplished musician by now. Instead I just tell them that I am a perpetual beginner. Well, I’m tired of playing so feebly. So I posted an ad online entitled “Fiddle Instructor Wanted” and told a little about myself and what I was looking for and awaited eagerly for a response. The first response I got was from some nut saying, “I know you not know how to play fiddle yet but when learn would you like to be in Country Band with me.” I felt like writing back and saying, “Yes, when you learn to speak English and I learn to play the fiddle, then you and I will form a band called, “The Idiots.” No thanks, I swerve when I’m headed for Crazy Town. (Sorry, that’s right, this is a Christian woman’s blog, I being the Christian woman, ask your forgiveness.)
The next and almost immediate response was from what seemed to be an accomplished musician who, again, seemed to know what she was talking about. If she was what she purported to be, she had the ability to take me where I wanted to go. (I failed to say that we recently bought my son a nice resonator banjo and he has been waiting to take lessons as well) As unbelievable as it may sound she was willing to come to the house and teach us both. We set a date for her to give us a preview of what she does with no obligation at all. (This is someone I found off of the internet after all. I had to leave myself a way out, in case she only thought she could play and was awful. It’s more prevalent than one would think. You never know who you’ll meet on-line, right? I made sure that she came on a day that my husband was home in case she was of marginal character.)
Well, the date was set for last Friday and I watched as she pulled in and at first glance I would judge her as a normal person of modest means. I invited her in, she seemed pleasant and cheerful and after a little bit of chit-chat she began to play. As soon as the bow hit the strings I was amazed and thankful that she had found her way to my door. The way she played the fiddle brought tears to my eyes and before she even finished the song I knew that she was the instructor for me. I said, “You’re hired!” Wow! I felt like the Lord had answered my prayers and not only brought me an instructor that comes to the house, but he saw my desire to learn fiddle style and provided a person with the ability to teach me! I had learned to play by way of the Suzuki method, but now it was time to learn fiddle style, you know, Bluegrass or Old Timey. An open door has been set before me…and only by lots of hard work and diligence will I be able to pass through it. (I’ve been stuck in the proverbial mud for so long, I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.)
Well, I’m determined to overcome. I’m going to push through and push through hard. Working to accomplish this goal would give me such joy. We love music; our family, and we also play at church. I’m the one in the background, nevertheless, enjoying myself. Music makes everything better, I say dreamily. Now to produce some that is more like a dream and less like a nightmare…I have to go to work. (Hi-ho! Hi-ho! Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go…)
The moral of the story here is that self- improvement is hard. Let’s face it, whether you want to become a better painter, a better writer, have a beautiful garden; create a better blog, exercise or whatever; it takes time, dedication and hard work. I’m not an old dog but it is hard to learn new tricks. Yet, I’m determined.
Hey, would you like to be in a country band with me?
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