Flat Biscuits

© Costasz | Dreamstime.com - Making Biscuits Photo

When you cook, do you do it with love?  Do you do it with tender, mindful, care?  Or are you aimlessly going through the motions?  Or maybe you're just task-minded? Maybe you've had a bad day and your attitude reflects that in the kitchen? Watch out if that's you!  ...or your biscuits won't rise.

When Chelsea first started dating Sam (and long before she became the amazing cook she is today) she came to me and said, "I would like to make Sam your home-made Big Daddy Biscuits."  (These biscuits are flaky, the size of your face, and ridiculously DELICIOUS) I was thrilled and quickly agreed.

We made our way into the kitchen, I got the recipe out and I started pulling all the ingredients out of the pantry and the bowls we would need from the cupboard.  She stood there with a blank look on her face, her lips in a bit of an Elvis-curl, and asked what I was doing.  After I informed her that the biscuits don't magically make themselves and there was a little work involved, her face changed.  She was not happy.

I had her read the recipe as I watched (managed), and making sure she did the work since she wanted to make them for Sam.  She begrudgingly added ingredients, fulfilling the recipe with each step.  As she progressed, I kept reminding her why she was doing this...that she originally wanted to make them to show her love for Sam, and to be careful as she was making them because with the attitude she had, the love was lost in the recipe and those biscuits wouldn't rise.  She rolled her eyes and hastily finished, ready to put the biscuits in the oven and be done with it.  As she opened the oven door, I reminded her once again, "Chelsea, stop and remember why you're doing this.  If you put these biscuits in the oven with your attitude, THEY WON'T RISE."  She looked at me like I was nuts (not the first time OR the last time I've gotten that look) and placed the biscuit pan into the oven.  She looked once more at the recipe to make certain she pulled them from the oven in the right amount of time, and smugly looked at me before leaving the kitchen.

DING!  (That was my impersonation of the oven timer going off).  We both head back into the kitchen...she turns off the timer...opens the oven door, pulls out the pan...and...FLAT BISCUITS. 

Boom.

She looked at me and without hesitation said, "Let's do this again."  So we did.  This time, she remembered why she wanted to make the biscuits in the first place, had a smile on her face at the notion of Sam being grateful for her gesture, telling me it was amazing that I knew those biscuits wouldn't rise.  The exact same recipe, a different attitude.  DING! (I'm jumping to the second batch being ready.) Chelsea opened the oven door to the most amazing biscuits that ever existed.  They were gargantuan.  She didn't even bat an eyelash before she smiled, hugged me, and thanked me from the bottom of her heart, knowing Sam would LOVE the biscuits she had made with LOVE.

This transcends into everything you do in life.  It's what you choose to make of it.  The biscuits that didn't rise were still edible, but the second batch were much more than that - they were incredible and delicious.  Make sure you make much of what's given to you to make life incredible and delicious...and do what you do in life with love...or you, too, will end up with flat biscuits.

BIG DADDY BISCUITS

2 cups flour (I use organic unbleached but any all purpose will do)

1 (heaping) tbs baking powder

1 tsp salt

1 tbs white sugar (I use organic. NOTE: agave will work, but they won't have the same texture as with regular sugar)

1/3 cup shortening (I keep old-school Crisco in my fridge...it lasts for years because I hardly ever use it, but it makes for great sustenance in this recipe)

1 cup milk

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  In a large bowl, whisk together dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar) Cut in the shortening (I actually use my fingers) until the mixture is course and mealy. Gradually stir in the milk until the dough pulls away from the side of the bowl.

Turn out onto a floured surface and knead 20 - 25 times, about five minutes.  Pat or roll dough to about 1 inch thick.  Cut biscuits with large cutter (I use a juice glass, and just flour the rim so it doesn't stick)  Repeat this until all the dough is used. (I take the remnants and put them together, pat it out to an inch and use it, too!)  Brush off any excess flour (gently!) and place biscuits on an UN-greased baking sheet.  Bake for 13 - 15 minutes.  I have my oven down to a science and know that 14 minutes works perfect for me.   These are great with white peppered gravy, or butter, or just on their own!! 

Make sure you add the main ingredient throughout the cooking process - LOVE!

Just Like Camping!

© N.l | Dreamstime.com - Summer Family & Camping Car Photo

It was a few years ago that we decided as a family to go camping for Easter.  We go camping as often as we can, and it had been awhile so we seized the opportunity to go, knowing it would be one of the rare occasions when we would all be together.  (We're a blended family, and not being together often is one of the downfalls.)

We're pretty professional when it comes to camping, and not in a pansy sort of way.  Now I'm not judging all you pop-up campers, or those of you who like to bring along mini-televisions for the electrical outlets that some campsites provide.  To each his own, really.  And we've even gone both of those routes once or twice before.  But we like to CAMP.  C.A.M.P.   Find a spot in the woods, throw up a tent, find another spot close by to your tent, throw up a tarp in front of the hole you dig for a potty for privacy, and don't forget to pile up the leaves high next to the hole so you're not caught without something to clean your bottom with.  Now THAT'S camping.

So we packed up Friday afternoon, sang songs the whole way there, got there by dusk, and made our campsite.  It was a great night.  It was a little cool out, but clear and wonderful.  We sent the kids on the traditional kindlin' hunt to help get our rip-roaring fire going in the fire pit we built from rocks found around the campsite and then ate hot dogs cooked on a stick cooked over that fire.  We sang more songs, told the same old ghost stories, then huddled up in our sleeping bags, hunkered down, and went to sleep.  What a cheesy, awesome night, eh?

I suppose it was around 4am when we heard the first hit of hail.  As I sat up to listen intently and lose the hazy sleep ora, I noticed I could see my breath when I yawned from how cold it had become...what was going on??  What happened to the beautiful clear weather we were counting on??  The hail progressively got worse.  We bundled up the kids in their winter's best (we live in Texas, so winter's best consists of a wind jacket and skull cap) and started to tear down the tent before the hail could.  We watched the hail beat off of poor Jordan's skull cap (which was on his head) and threw the kids in the truck to wait while we gathered everything up as fast as we could and haul it and the family outta there.

Oh, how disappointed the kids were.  They sat in the back of the truck, cheeks red with cold and despair, no more songs in their hearts to sing.  I could hardly stand it.  There is just something about sharing your kids' disappointment, though, that throws you into go-mode.

It was pouring down rain and the hail was coming in droves by the time we got home, so we lit a fire in the fireplace, threw up the pup tent in the living room, got everyone in their pajamas and made s'mores and played cards and board games while the weather ripped and whipped outside, never getting to infiltrate the campsite we had built inside the house.  We stayed the entire rest of the weekend at that campsite, laughing and singing, sleeping in our sleeping bags together, and even went Easter egg hunting on Easter morning.  It was the absolute best camping trip (and Easter!) we had ever had.

Sometimes life can throw a wrench in your gears and mess up all the plans you make.  You can either let it put a chink in your armor, or you can go with the flow and make the best of it.  That weekend, we chose to make the best of it...and it literally became the BEST of it.

Good, Clean Fun

© Alexroz | Dreamstime.com - Bathtub Photo

I bathe.  I know, I know...you're all thinking, "Thank goodness!"  But what I mean is, I'm not the shower-girl, I'm the girl who likes to submerge in the hottest bubble-filled, aroma-therapeutic, quiet-in-the-bathroom, classical music playing softly, glass of red on the edge - bathtub.  Now, in the real every-day world, I don't get to do the aforementioned type of bath, but I still prefer bath over shower for the daily hygiene routine.

We have a great tub.  It's a large garden tub with a big iceberg window that lets in sunlight (which is super-helpful when it comes to seeing it is time to clean it).  We have a stained-glass window in front of it that makes for an even more soothing mood.  All good stuff.

Soooo...why am I talking about my bathtub and bathing practices today? Well, I've noticed lately that when it's time to let the water out so I can wash my hair (I'm a germ-a-phobe so there is no WAY I'm washing my hair in the water I just bathed in) it drains slower and slowwer, and slowwwer every time.  Man, I've got stuff to do and do not have time to watch water drain!!  I make a mental note to add this to Adrian's list of honey-do's, but my mental note never makes it to the list, as I get distracted easily by the other to-do thoughts running through my head.

Yesterday...I am rinsing the tub and getting it ready for mamma (that's me) so's I can take my epsom-salts-fix-muh-bones-if-you-please bath and I notice the water isn't going down at all though the stopper is not in.  I am taking it pretty personally because I want to take advantage of the rare quiet time that existed in my house at that moment.  Do I take the plunger (that's been in my TOILET) to it?  Only if I want to ruin bath time for the rest of my life.  Do I take a wire hanger and try to scoop out the clog?  Well, A) that would make me throw up and 2) my hangers are plastic, thank God.  Ahhhhh, Drano, perhaps?  I scour the house, looking for the chemical nectar that is going to give me my (now-cut-in-half) bath time.  But alas, I made the vow to try to stop using chemicals in my home whenever possible.  It's amazing how your belief system flies out the window when all you want to do is take a freaking bath, because I found myself praying for God to allow me to find some forgotten-about Drano way in the back of the cabinet under the sink.  I suppose there were other, more important prayers going on in the world because there was no Drano to be found.

I went to the Googla...(Translation: I Googled it) and typed in: (I know.  You think I'm going to tell you I typed in "How to pray properly so that the Lord answers your prayer to find some stinkin' Drano in the house so a person can take a bath...but I didn't) "how to unclog a drain without Drano".  Apparently I'm not the only one who suffers the clogged bathtub plight because there were many great links and conversation threads regarding the subject.

There was one method in particular that kept coming up that was fast and easy. It costs only pennies to do and I was able to use items I already had in my pantry! I will share this method with you, but before I do, I think it's important to tell you that the method worked, I got to take my bath, and I got some good material to use in my post in the process!  I think I'm going to invest in a rubber duckie...

CHEMICAL-FREE WAY TO UNCLOG A DRAIN:

1/2 cup baking soda

1 cup vinegar

1 gallon boiling water

Carefully pour all the baking soda down the drain. Pour in 1/2 of the vinegar, covering the hole with a towel or stopper so the fizz is forced down, not up. Add the second half of the vinegar, following the same procedure. Allow to sit for 15 minutes or so, and then flush with an entire gallon of boiling water.

For particularly troublesome stoppage, multiple applications may be in order, but it WILL WORK so hang in there.

Follow up with a smile.

What's It Gonna Cost Me?

My husband and I date - not other people, of course, but we date each other.  Last night was a good date.  Times are definitely tough right now and belts are tighter than they've ever been; somehow, we managed to have a great date night...free of charge!!

It started when he picked me up at my house.  Okay, we live at the same house, but a lady likes it when a gentleman comes a-callin'.  (Besides, it makes for a good story!)

Adrian has always opened doors for me.  I'm a bit of a male-chauvenist, so it's never bothered me.  I actually love it.  He has opened my car door whether we are leaving home, a garage sale, or the opera...he does not discriminate and I love that.  It's the little things that mean a lot.  But it's especially nice on date night.

Anyway, back to the story.  So he picked me up (or walked me out to the car).

We headed to our first destination, which was a (sooooooooo long-overdue) mani / pedi for me, while Adrian sat in a massage chair next to me with the power on full blast.  Sipping wine and listening to soft music while getting my foot rubbins and arm and neck massage on was amazing...but what felt better is that it was all fer-ee!! (WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!?)  You heard me right!    Cameron gave me a gift card for Christmas to my favorite place (which I haven't seen in awhile) and we decided to start our date there because we knew they offered a free glass of wine with your pedicure.  So massage, manicure, pedicure, (tip, of course, was covered by the certificate) before-dinner cocktail, soft lighting and music = all free.  So far, so good.

Next, we decided to go to one of those places you can get dinner and a movie all in one place - not always the cheapest route to take these days, but apparently nothing's too good for us.  Guess how much I'm gonna tell you it was?  Come on, you see a pattern here, don't ya?  Well, in case you're on the edge of your seat with anticipation and wonder - it was free!  HOW THE HECK WAS DINNER AND A MOVIE FREE, YOU ASK?  Chelsea and Sam gave us a $25 gift card for Christmas (yea, we made out like bandits from our kids) and that covered the dinner part.  I received an email from this establishment for one free ticket.  (The name of the place is not relevant, because I subscribe to tons of places for reasons just like this one and you can, too).   I then searched through my Entertainment coupon book, found one for a free movie ticket to the same place, (did a yippee-doo-dah dance) and voila!  Dinner and a movie = all free.  WORD.

Now keep in mind that all the affection we showed each other throughout the night, holding hands (yes, we still do that), the laughs we shared, the time together = all free.  Exhausted from being pampered all evening, we headed home.  

I am grateful for the Christmas gifts, but even without them, we know how to paint the town red free of charge all the time, and we do it.  Date night is necessary.  PERIOD.  It doesn't matter what the dynamic or make up of your family is: small kids, grown kids, no kids.  Date night is essential to keeping your marriage healthy.  And we're proof that you don't even have to spend a lot to do it.

I won't tell you how we ended the date, but I WILL tell you that didn't cost us a thing, either. ;-)

The Constant Struggle

I was a single mother of Chelsea and Cameron for quite awhile before Adrian rode in on his white horse (with Jordan in tow) and our blended family was created.  There was that time it was just the three of us though, and I often think of the things I did or said as their only parental figure that I wish I could change.  I don't have any regrets, really, because they both turned out to be incredible human beings.  I think so much of that has to do with the one constant they have had their entire life together:  each other.  From the time Chelsea was 16-months old and Cameron came into the world, they have been together through thick and thin.  

No matter who they were with, no matter where they were, they were always together and were there to protect each other.

There was one time - Chelsea was in the fifth grade and Cameron was in the fourth - there was a bully that had been picking on Cameron and was meeting him after school to beat him up...turns out the bully was a jy-nor-mus young lady (of sorts).  According to legend, Chelsea saw the crowd gathering and went to see what was going on.  Seeing the victim was her little brother, she stopped the bully cold, (using methods we will save for another story) and when she looked around to see if her brother was okay.............he had hidden himself under a bush (he says it's because he was told never to hit a girl, and we "believe him").

To help Cameron save face, I will tell you that years later we had moved into a new house during the summer months, so the kids weren't in school.  Chelsea and Cameron were old enough to stay home by themselves, and were playing a board game when they heard a noise outside.  Cameron looked out the window and saw a man on the side of the house.  He shuffled his sister into the closet, telling her not to move and to cover herself up with a blanket, picked up one of Adrian's golf clubs, called Adrian, and proceeded to tell him in a whisper that Chelsea was safely concealed in the closet and he had a golf club and he was ready to use it - he was 11.  Turns out he protected Chelsea from the man that was turning our water on for us.  What would he have done had it been a real predator??  I shudder to think how helpless a golf club-wielding 11-year-old would have fared, but the point is he was protecting his older sister from any harm at all costs.

Don't get me wrong, they have fought like cats and dogs most of their life and even said terrible things to one another, but let anyone ELSE say something out of sorts and it's AWN.

Last July, Chelsea got married.  We all dealt with it differently.  Cameron loves Sam (we all do!) and he was so happy to welcome an older brother into the family.  He never once said he was sad to see his sister move out (he was thrilled to move into her room).  But the wedding photographer caught the truth in his heart when she took the following picture that was taken at the end of the reception when Sam and Chelsea rode off into the sunset together...

Goodwill Toward Men

I've always been aware that I will be an eccentric old lady.  Even when I was young (er) I knew that.  I'll be the one who has dyed her hair way too black, and it will go way past my hairline on my forehead.  My red lipstick will look stained and overdone and go far too much outside the lip line.  My eyebrows will be black as coal, and drawn on to make me look like I'm surprised all the time.  I will wear gold lamé track suits and canvas sneakers with flowers all over them.  And I will smell good...like any respectable eccentric old lady should.  These things are expected of me, and I will own it.

I'm already well on my way.  I dress a little outside the box most days, but at 41 I know exactly who I am without question and my sense of style or fashion (I use those words loosely!)goes along with that.  But at 41 I also know the value of a dollar, and I've found a way to beat the system: Goodwill.

Some of you may frown upon the thought of second-hand, or shudder when it comes to wearing what someone else has worn.  Understood.  And I warn you to stop reading here if that is you.  I wouldn't want your skin to crawl at the thought of the red linen Versace shirt I bought Cameron with the $80 tag still on it for $3.99.  Or the $200 couture suit that Adrian still says is the best one he owns for $13.  Or even the $26 Prada knock-off purse I bought for myself for exactly $ .99 (that's ninety nine CENTS, Ladies and Gents).

For those of you who don't mind saving money, then read on because there is a method to the madness.  Some Goodwills are VERY proud of their stuff; by this, I mean that the pricing is left to each Goodwill's discretion.  I found a really cute wooden salad bowl I was going to get that I THOUGHT was $1.99.  It turned out to be $11.99 when I got to the register.  When I inquired what made this bowl so special, they couldn't tell me and I abandoned the purchase.  I found a cuter wooden bowl at Target (pronounced "Tar-jzay") for half that.  So definitely be cautious - just because it's Goodwill doesn't mean it's automatically a good deal.

And ya gotta be willing to DIG.  You can't just peruse...you must find your arm strength to be able to move the hangers as you look because they pack those clothes in there like cattle and you may miss the perfect bargain find if you ridicule the practicality of digging.

Look, I already know that Goodwill is mostly the place that people go when they're looking for a Halloween  costume cheap, or to just drop off the stuff they wouldn't be caught dead in when they want to feel charitable.  But don't count it out for help with your everyday wardrobe.  It makes up about 98% of what we wear and saves us money that we can use for lots of other things.

Be careful to wash  or dry clean the clothes and to get those dreaded plastic tags off before heading out of the house.  I've been caught with one sticking out of the shoulder of a dress and though I'm not ashamed of where I shop, it was not one of my finer moments.

I don't have to dye my hair yet, but I will do so proudly when the time comes.  My lipstick has always been and will always be far too red and outside the lip line, and I draw on my eyebrows with careful precision (for now).  I don't own a gold lamé track suit, but am on the lookout for one all the time...and I always smell good, like any respectable ANY-aged person should!  And I am a proud thrift store shopper who wishes you all peace on earth and Goodwill toward men (women, and children).

Smoke & Mirrors

He came to my apartment to pick me up and I was NERVOUS.  I was a single mother at the time so I made sure the kids were with a trustworthy babysitter...because I was going on my first 'official' date with Adrian Garcia. (I could have SWORN he said Garza the night I met him, but who cares?  HE WAS HOT)

I don't even remember where we went to dinner.  I'm sure it was nice, but apparently uneventful.  I know we were enjoying each other's company, though, because when we got back to my place we decided to go upstairs and play cards with my ex-roommate, who is now Adrian's step-sister.  (Yea, I know, but that's a story for another blog so stay tuned)  
Now at the time, I was a smoker.  (GASP!)  Smoking is HORRIBLE for you - I get it - and I no longer do it.  But I like to think while I was a smoker, I was a very cool smoker, because I smoked those really long (for the purpose of the story, you must know they were REALLY long), super-thin cigarettes called Capris.  So Adrian sits on my little futon in my little apartment next to my friend while I decide to 'have a ciggy'.  I was being cool, after all, and had to impress this hot guy on our first official date.

I lived upstairs and had a balcony, and as a responsible mother, I dutifully headed for that balcony to smoke so as not to allow smoke in the apartment where two small children lived.  
I opened the sliding glass door.  I put the cigarette in my red-lipstick-covered mouth (just trying to impress, Ladies and Gentlemen), and lit it - I was so sexy!  I turned toward the balcony to step outside, in a very cool and sexy manner, of course.  There's no other way to tell you what happened next except just to tell you.  I had forgotten to open the sliding screen after the glass door and with the cigarette (sexily) in my mouth I walked right into it.  Now, that's embarrassing enough on it's own, but not too bad.  HOWEVER COMMA, when I walked into the screen the (very long, skinny) cigarette was pushed straight up and the lit end landed on my forehead direct-center.  And it BURNED.  You could even hear the singe of skin.  My date and my friend had no recourse but to laugh, which left ME no recourse but to (fight through the pain) and laugh with them.

Now hang tight here, Folks, because it's just getting good.

I fall back onto the futon between the two giggling hyenas, trying to be the cute girl on the first date who can laugh at myself, too.  As I am laughing (and my forehead is smoking), I PASS GAS.  Well, we all know flatulence is funny at every corner unless you're stuck in an elevator with a big guy who ate beans and cabbage for dinner.  Adrian looked at me, eyes widened and lookin' like an owl, pointed right at me, and proceeds to laugh so hard I thought he would wet himself.  Of course, my friend joined him.  And I just sat there, with my burned forehead, holding a broken cigarette, in my own pew.

Luckily, the story doesn't end there...that was part of the beginning.  He called me again for a second date.   But that's a story for a different day.  

BE YOURSELF TODAY.  Look in the mirror and remember you're human like everyone else...and SOMEONE is gonna love you for it.

A Yolk with No Punchline

My friend came over this morning to have a lovely cup of organic coffee and a veggie frittata I made for us to share.  I hardly ever get to see her or talk to her.  (There's a ton of you out there that share a similar relationship with me, and for that I apologize.  You know who you are)  But when I do see her it's like we were never apart, and that's a good friend.
We hugged, prayed, had some small talk, laughed, and then shared some interesting conversation.   She shared about how her  pregnancy is coming along (she is radiant)  and also how her husband is doing.  He suffers from sleep paralysis and a benign tumor on his pituitary gland and has been working very hard to get his health in a good place. 
Recently, I had a dear friend lose her husband in the military.  They have a small child.  She is one of the strongest people I've ever known - and so graceful in her mourning, but of course, struggles as a now-single mother to get their life in a good place.
Here I sit, sometimes feeling so sorry for myself with all the attack we've been under, and yet I hear these things and I am reminded that someone else is always going to carry a greater or heavier burden and I should be grateful for what I do have - because our health or even our life could be taken from us at any time.
We are so strong and so delicate at the very same time.  For Cameron to have the accident he had and still be alive shows the strength in us; and the friends I've mentioned who suffer in very different ways show how fragile we are as well.
It's like the eggs I used to make the frittata this morning.  They break so easily, like us.  But as I cooked them, they got stronger - harder to break.  I think when we suffer, it's God's way of 'cooking' us and making us stronger.
How eggsellent!! (Couldn't help myself)
PS: Quick & Easy Frittata for Two
6 sliced mushrooms
1/2 yellow bell pepper, rough chopped
1/2 seeded and finely chopped jalapeno
About 1/2 cup parsley, rough chopped
4 eggs
1 slice cheddar cheese
Pour about 1 tbs (you can just eyeball this measurement) extra virgin olive oil into a small pan.  (I use my cast-iron skillet because it's non-stick and oven friendly and also makes for a really cute presentation, but you can use any small frying pan and just put foil over the handle when the time comes to put it in the oven)  heat the oil over medium heat and then put all the veggies into the pan.  cook them for about 5 minutes or until just soft.  While the veggies are cooking through, take the four eggs and whisk them in a small bowl.  Add about a tbs of water and put aside.  (Slightly) salt and pepper the veggies and stir (wait until this part to salt so the moisture doesn't come out of the mushrooms), then add the eggs.  Lower the heat to medium-low and let the eggs and veggies cook together for about 2 minutes.  Meanwhile, turn the oven on to 350 degrees.  Break up your slice of cheddar and carefully place the pieces on top of the egg mixture and do not stir.  Pop your frying pan in the oven for about 5-10 minutes, checking it to make sure it doesn't over-cook.  Take it out and let it sit for about a minute or two.
I sprinkled a little fresh thyme over it, sliced an apple and put a few pieces on each plate, and served the frittata by cutting it in half at the table.
It was nummy and that's no yolk.  HAAA!