And So It Begins

   Ours is a sports family. It is something I never anticipated happening because I am one of those perpetually clumsy people who cannot walk, talk, and chew gum at the same time. Yep, I'm a total goober when it comes to sports. However, when you marry a collegiate athlete who has an SEC Championship ring in his possession, and you somehow manage to give birth to four gifted athletes (no thanks to my gene pool), you can rest assured that a significant portion of your life is going to revolve around sports.
   After attending too many games to count, I now consider myself an erstwhile authority on the following: I know a good pitching stance from a bad one; I am able to discuss Sacs, RBI's and the nuanced posture necessary for a good bunt. I can even tell a curve ball from a slider. As far as football is concerned, I know about nickelbacks, dimebacks, corners, and safeties, and I know when a lineman has committed a hold. In basketball, I can spot "man" coverage when it shifts from a zone and when a player is setting an illegal screen. As a goalie's mom, I view penalty kicks and Sudden Death overtime with dread. However, when it comes to volleyball, I am not doing too well since high school rules have changed so much from the time that my daughter was playing. I am pretty much lost now. I only acquired all of my arcane knowledge for one reason and one reason only: I had a child in the game.
    Even though I never logged one minute of time on the court or playing field myself, I was an expert of sorts (mothers always are). When the last child graduated from high school, I folded up my chair and earned a well-deserved break from 28 plus years of attending sports events in which I had a significant personal investment. I thought my sporting days were over.

  I should have known it would not last.
 
  However, now the stakes have changed. When grandchildren play there is a level of enjoyment that is hard to explain. It is both fun and funny. I don't have to be there at the crack of dawn. I don't have to assemble a uniform, shop for athletic gear, and load up the car with snacks, blankets, chairs and other children. I don't have to worry about who is happy or unhappy about what is happening on the field. I have the detachment and the delight of a grandparent. Everything is just hunky-dory. The Husband and I get to glide in, give some hugs and high-fives, and then glide back out. It's a breeze.

  Our first grandchild made her athletic debut last week. We learned a great deal about her view of life at this stage by observing her on the field. Here is my interpretation of what was going on in that cute little head of hers.

I have been practicing wearing my uniform around the house to get ready for the game.

I can hardly believe the big day is here. I am so excited. Can't you tell?

The next best thing to my uniform is getting to wear my hair in braids.

The whistle has blown and the game has started, but I need to do a hair check.

After all, a girl's gotta look good...

I think I am supposed to be doing something other than standing around,

 but I am not sure what that is...

The ball goes rolling by, but hey, there's my best bud Selah. 

I think I'll go over and hang out with her.

I think I'll practice a few warm-up exercises during the game. This is fun.

 Selah and I stick together. 

We don't feel any pressure to get in on the action...obviously

The coach is encouraging me to get involved. Might not be a bad idea at this point. 

Girl down. I just got slide-tackled.

 I'm not too happy about this.

I can't stop crying.

 Coach lets me leave the game to get a hug

 Selah and I are back in action. We'll let the other guys chase the ball.

We'll just love on each other.

 One more hug from Selah before the whistle blows. 

.

 Soccer is fun. 

I had such a great time hanging out with my friends. 

Can't wait until next week.

Here are a few shots of the Peanut Gallery

Fig Preserves or Figs Yum Yum

   It's 'bout that time. All around town the Brown Turkey figs are starting to drip with that sticky sweet goodness. Go get your pickin' party together and head on over to your favorite fig tree. Mine just happens to be this gigantic tree in The Daughter's front yard. It's a beauty. Over 10 feet tall and 14 feet wide and this year, thanks to all that rain, loaded with figs. The birds love 'em, the neighbors love 'em and so do folks just passing by. The tree hangs over the sidewalk in an open invitation to share. That's why we call this fig tree "The Giving Tree." So if you happen to be in the neighborhood, just help yourself.

 

   One of the things I like best about talking recipes with The Baby Sister is that you immediately realize she spent years as a school teacher. Her explanations are thorough, logical, and clear. I hope I can do her justice.
Fig Preserves A Step by Step Guide or Canning for Dummies!
   Assemble all of your canning tools! You will need the following:
       1. Canning jars with screw lids and seals
       2. A ladle
       3. Canning funnel
       4. 4 quart heavy Dutch Oven
       5. Pound of sugar (you will not use the whole thing)
       6. A jar lifter or an oven mitt
       7. Approximately 4 quarts of figs

A few notes about the canning supplies: My sister uses both 4 ounce and 8 ounce jars. She buys these in bulk from her local Wal-Mart or they can be ordered online. She likes to have a few of both sizes available because you never know how your figs are going to pour out into the jars. Your last jar just might need to be the small size.
     

   

You will use the ladle for spooning the liquid in the jars. Spoons just don't work as well. You should trust my sister on this.

If you don't have a plastic jar funnel, you need to march right out and buy one. My sister said that this little $3 tool is indispensable. So go get one NOW. Again, she got hers at Wal-Mart. You can order nicer ones online, but I don't know why you would want to. This one works just fine.

Use a heavy pot for cooking your figs as in heavy like cast iron. Of course, Caphalon works well, or if you are lucky enough to have gourmet cookware, then go for your All-Clad or your Le Creuset. In our family, cast iron does the trick.

My sister uses an oven mitt to lift her jars, but I saw this jar lifter online and thought it looked fun. I probably would not use it enough to justify the purchase, even though it's pretty cheap. Also kitchen storage is always an issue at my house so this would end up at the back of a cupboard where it would only be seen by the mice. So, use the oven mitt.

I hope you are still with me, now we are ready to talk about the figs.

   You will need to put up your figs as close to harvesting them as you can, but if you don't have time right away, simply refrigerate the figs in an open container. DO NOT WASH THEM and DO NOT PEEL THEM. Just remove the stems. Your processing will get hot enough to kill any germs. I guess if they are covered in bird poop, you can wash them, but otherwise leave them alone. 

    Fill your Dutch oven up to the top with figs (usually right about four quarts) and go ahead and pour the sugar over the unwashed figs. The ratio is 1 quart of figs to 1.5 to 2 cups of sugar. That's a lot of sugar, but you can rationalize it by saying this is candy or dessert in a jar.

     Let the figs sit in the sugar overnight or for several hours uncovered.

     When the sugar has settled, you are ready to cook. Start the figs on low, low heat and cook them very slowly. Your figs will take several hours to cook down. 

      At the same time that you begin cooking the figs, put your jars in your dishwasher along with the screw tops and the seals. Run the cycle using the HOT temperature wash and dry cycle. 

      Hopefully the figs will be about ready when the dishwashing cycle is finished and the jars are sterilized and still hot. The figs should be brown and have a good bit of syrup. Don't let them get too dark or they will be more like candied figs instead of the consistency of preserves.

      Remove two or three jars at a time with a hot mitt (or your jar lifter) from the dishwasher and put them on the counter. Put your wide mouth funnel over one jar and using your ladle, fill it with figs until it is 1/4 inch from the top. Then ladle more syrup, completely covering the figs (this is important...if you leave figs uncovered, they will not be good). Leave only 1/8 of an inch from the top of the jar, which is the space needed for the seal to compress. If you have any leftover fig syrup, save it to pour over ice cream!

       As you finish each jar, put the lid seal down and lightly screw the ring to the jar. Do not fully tighten the ring yet. Leave the jars on the counter to cool. Soon you will hear the sound of popping as the jar cools and the seal forms a suction over the jar. This is good. When the jar has cooled to the touch, you may screw the lid on tightly. Four quarts of figs will make roughly 6-9 half-pints of preserves. In case you forget, a half-pint is 8 ounces. Even though my sister taught school, I had to verify this fact on the internet. Don't worry, she did not teach math. Label and date each jar with a Sharpie. Be very, very proud of yourself!

       If you have any jars that do not pop, simply refrigerate them and use them within the month. All of the other jars can go in your pantry. Your fig preserves will be good for a year or so, but I am betting that you won't have any jars left when the next harvest rolls around.

       I can this "Canning for Idiots," because my sister has made it so simple, anyone can do it, including me!  

       Here's a picture of Little One enjoying the fruit of The Baby Sister's labor of love...Figs Yum Yum!

       

Thank you Lord for Ducks and Ice Cream

    We have a little pond on the bayside of our condo. It was a lifesaver this past week. We also went through two loaves of Wonder Bread keeping our finely feathered friends happy. I, for one, am very thankful for the momma and daddy ducks who came calling each day...much to the delight of Little One and Little Two. It was great entertainment during a cold and rainy week.

 As soon as the ducks heard the squeal of little voices, they would come running. 

Did you know that turtles also like to eat bread crumbs?

 Check out Little Two's throwing stance.

 Our former Vanderbilt baseball pitcher (Pappy) says that she is a natural!

Can I just tell you how much I love little toddler legs?

 More bread, please?!

 Next up was a visit to the ice cream parlor. Messy and delicious. 

 Brother wants to know if he can get some...

Little Beach Bums

   We love the beach. It's in our blood. Here's a photo of yours truly hanging out at Cinco Bayo when I was but a wee babe. No swim diapers then.

     All kidding aside, we were incredibly blessed as children to have a great-grandmother with her own house on Yacht Club Drive. Her property adjoined that of her sisters who in turn had their own houses. Thus it was that I grew up kissin' cousins with not only my first cousins, but my second, third and fourth cousins and with the aunts: that is: aunts, great aunts, and great-great aunts (and a few uncles, too).  I never knew how many generations separated us, nor did I care, I just knew that we were part of a large, wonderful, fun, and funny family.
    The original property on Cinco Bayou has now passed into other hands, but my family and I are striving to develop a similar closeness among the generations. It's why we traveled to the beach en masse last week and then all made the trek to my hometown, DeFuniak Springs, to attend a celebratory wedding and erstwhile family reunion. It was worth the hours we spent moving lots of people, big and small, from Nashville to the beach then to DeFuniak and back. It was oh so worth it, but then again, the love of family is always worth the sacrifice to keep the ties close.
     Here are some favorite photos of our time at the beach last week. The weather did not cooperate at all. It was rainy, cloudy, windy and chilly, but it did not deter Little One and Little Two's ability to enjoy the wonder. See for yourself.

Brrr...are you sure that this is not Antarctica? Nope, it's the Gulf of Mexico. Or so they say.

Run, run, don't let the waves catch you!

When all else fails, let the castle building begin...

Don't you know that you have to get messy, wet, and sandy if you are going to build a good castle?!

Ugh, this is really really heavy!

My teeth are chattering, my knees are knocking, my lips are turning blue,
but I have a job to do.

I have to get that water. Ice water, that is...

Here you go, more water mixed with sand. Let's stir it up to get it just right.

Oops, I bet she does not realize that I am dumping it out as fast as she brings it to me. 

        Uh oh, something about that face tells me that she has figured out my scheme.

I hope I did not see what I think I did...

Time for another project. I am up for some sand burying!

I'll go first. Whee...this is fun!

Even the Mommas are getting in on the act!

This is what cousins are for!

It's a family affair! 

Free at last!

Now it's my turn!