I Will Survive

   Diary of a Madwoman with a persistent intestinal virus -- a warning that this may be too much information for some folks.
      Just imagine it is 3:00 am in the morning and for the second night in a row, I am considering making a permanent bed on the bathroom floor. And this is coming after I was a good girl today, I followed all the rules (well almost all of them): 1) no caffeine, okay so relatively no caffeine, I mean only one cup of half-caff so that really and truly does not count, and this is from a woman who has to have at least two cups of the real deal in order for her brain waves to function properly. And while I am telling the truth, I had only one Diet Coke all day which, I might add, was consumed over an incredibly long period of time. So long, in fact, that it totally lost that icy cold slight burn you get when you throw back the first gulp. (As an aside, I have been known to put my partially consumed Diet Coke cans back in the freezer to preserve and re-create that burn over and over again.) 2) I ate small portions of carbohydrates for lunch and carbohydrates for dinner. Okay, the lunch carbohydrate was sweeter than is probably recommended for those with a stomach virus but the dinner choice was a very small baked potato. Boring. How safe can you get? And no, I did not slather it with butter or sour cream. I put salt and pepper on it and one teaspoon of fake butter spread. So why am I on the floor for another night praying for my husband to wake up and alternately hoping that he does not since I hate the fact that even after thirty-six years of marriage and vows that include the words better or worse, sickness and in health, I detest the fact that he has to see me in this state. Beauty and modesty are not even in the picture. But since I can clearly hear his muffled snores rising and falling in the bedroom, I know it's gonna just be me and the floor.
   I can't stop shivering. I am so cold that I am actually seriously considering covering myself up with the bathroom rugs. And just so you won't be totally grossed out, I washed them day before yesterday, but they are STILL bathroom rugs. I am getting more and more desperate when I finally realize (duh) that a cabinet full of towels is less than a foot away. Ahhh. So I pull out five or six of these beauties,

fold one up as a pillow and drape my supine body with the rest. I have tried getting back in the bed on several occasions, but the foot race in the dark to the bathroom coupled with dealing with not making it in time are routines I don't want to repeat. I am periodically taking sips of water to keep myself from becoming dehydrated (having raised four children along with having a husband who had Crohn's Disease, I know all the right things to do) when I start to drift off to Never Never Land where I am dreaming of bottles of candy pink Pepto Bismal and Immodium.
    The light is finally peeking through the windows when I realize that enough time has elapsed for me to safely crawl back into bed. As I slide in beside my husband he pats my leg and asks me if I am okay. What can I say, "No, I spent the night on the floor yet again? And you slept through it all..." I pat him back and whisper that I will live. He rolls over and begins to snore again.
   But when I open my eyes and the clock says 8:15 am, I know two things: 1) I really will live and number 2) He must have heard something at some point because he has gotten dressed QUIETLY (this is quite an accomplishment for a man who walks through a room like a bull in a china shop), tiptoed around the room and left me sleeping without saying a word. Now that's love in my book and worth a night or two on the bathroom floor. What was it that Flannery O'Connor said? A good man is hard to find.
  

Beating the Odds

   October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Like so many women in so many families, my family of origin has not emerged unscathed by this disease. But unlike many others, I am so thankful that all of the women in my family who have had breast or ovarian cancer are alive and kicking and not just kicking, they are kicking back. By kicking back, I mean that all of the affected members of my family have entered a gene study through the National Institutes of Health with the hope of making a difference. It may not have made the difference for my sister or my aunts but it could make a difference for my daughter or my granddaughter or for my nieces or for some unrelated woman and her daughter or granddaughter.  My sister and mother and my father's sisters (all three of them) have each contributed a blood sample, allowed their medical records to be examined, and have told the story of our family to research scientists who are looking for the culprit gene (that's what I call that ole booger, the culprit) that links the women in my family together in this unholy alliance. Pray with me that they will soon find and identify this culprit, this rogue, who seeks to rob and steal from those we love.
      It is difficult for me to grapple with the notion of a faulty gene, especially when I believe with my whole heart that each of us "is fearfully and wonderfully made," and we were knit together in our mothers' wombs by a marvelous and glorious Creator who has loved us from the beginning. Yet despite the magnificence of God's original design, we cannot escape the fact that we live in a fallen world. This is a place where people of all ages contract diseases like breast cancer and where some of them die, including one of my dearest friends in this life and in the life to come: Peggy Maddux Southard.
   So today I salute the fighters. I salute Cindy, Monica, Harriet, and Deborah who have fought the good fight and are still fighting. I also salute those who fought and did not go easy into that good night. I salute the women who struggled against this disease with all of their might. Each was someone's daughter, someone's sister, someone's mother, someone's friend. We remember their names, the sound of their voices, the tilt of their head, their precious smile, or the touch of their hand. We will not forget. And we will stand with women everywhere until the tide of the battle is turned...and more and more and more and more and more women are living rather than dying with breast cancer.

Show Me Some Etsy Love

  I have just the place for this little gem! And the seller also happens to be a friend of mine. I am hoping to wrangle an invitation to her Christmas show again. I picked up several beautifully made goodies there last year: soap in the shape of snowflakes, Christmas pillows, and a couple of original oils by another gifted Nashville artist.

   I am living proof that you can teach an old dog new tricks (or a few anyway)... I have just learned to knit. My mother and my friends have been helping me get started. Thus far, I am only a one-stitch wonder, which means I am making lots of scarves, but I am planning on taking a class this winter to help me further develop my skills. In the meantime, I just might have to buy something like this that would look oh so precious on either Little One or Little Two.

   After a morbidly hot summer, I am thankful for the cooler mornings that remind me of the changing seasons. And although winter is not my favorite season, who doesn't love a good snow?! While envisioning winter landscapes, I was thinking that these would make for a beautiful tablescape.
  

     And when I spied this little treasure, I was almost tempted to go back to my smocking and french hand sewing days! The only problem there is that I gave my sewing machine away!
Oh well, that's what might be on my Christmas list! HINT HINT!

You Just Don't Mess With A Classic

Uh Oh, I hope I am not in trouble

Good, Honey is smiling at me

I just need to get them all out to see what's here

looking, looking, looking

Concentration is a must, I don't want to get sidetracked

Ummm, is this it?

            

Back to the drawing board

Hmmm, let me see...

Clifford is always a good choice, but if I stop now,
this could take all day!

I know it is somewhere over here

What about this one?

This is the one and only Goodnight Moon.

Success at last!

My fingers are not quite adept at turning the pages yet...

I think I need some help.

Oh, boy, oh boy! Honey says
she will read it to me...
yet again!

All done now

Off to my next adventure!

    I can recite it in my sleep. And probably have many times. When The Husband and I would finally get through bedtime with four little children, one of us would be mumbling the words to the story with one eye open as we drifted (many times before our babes) into la-la land. We went through multiple copies of this all-time family favorite and totally obliterated one version that was called a pop-up book; several dog-eared and lovingly chewed copies remain in our home today waiting for the next generation to chew, smell, look, read, and enjoy. I remember that one of our of children simply called it,  "Moom" which is toddler talk for moon. Another called it "Night Moon" but as it goes with toddlers, we read it day and night, morning, evening, after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was not a bedtime book at our house, it was an anytime you feel like it book. And all of us were intimately acquainted with the itty bitty mouse, the quiet old lady who was whispering hush, the comb and the brush and the bowl full of mush. Everybody had to ask me over and over again, what mush was and why it was that we didn't eat much mush at our house. I told them mush was another name for oatmeal or porridge, but what mush really is is what I turn to whenever Little One crawls over dragging her very own copy for me to read. It's been around too many years to count, but it still strikes just the right chord in hearts, young and old. It's the one, the only Goodnight Moon.

Look Whoooo's Having a Baby!

    There were pink owls roosting everywhere and lots of pretty delights when the five hostesses honored the beautiful Daughter-in-law with a baby shower at the Daughter's house this past weekend. Great food, inspired decor, and thoughtful planning made this party so much fun. Little One will be joined by Little Two in a little more than just a month and we can hardly wait. It will be granddaughter heaven around here!

The bear in the chair hanging out with
a couple of hoot owls!

And the bear on the stair (a family tradition
for one of the hostesses)!

  

This handpainted welcome greeted the guests!

Gorgeous flowers, personalized cupcakes and lots of silver and pink everywhere!

  

Coffee, tea, or me?!

Edible pacifers...too cute!

Ham rolls....just one of the yummy treats at this brunch!

Treasured baby heirlooms
were hung from the chandelier

The Mom-to-Be (in the middle) with her sister and mom

Clever napkins add a special touch!

Hostesses with the Mom-to-Be

Pink Owl Cookie Party Favors were the Grab-and-Go!

Good Neighbors

   Though Frost told us in Mending Wall that "good fences make good neighbors," I beg to differ. I like neighborhoods where there are no fences, however I find myself living in one of those pseudo agrarian suburbs replete with perfectly manicured one acre lots where folks grow nothing much besides grass and children. I would rather live where neighbors live close enough to holler from porch to porch and take time to know the vagaries of one another's lives. When you live in this type of proximity, you are able to notice things. You see when someone is hurt or lonely or far too busy for their own good. And sometimes you have the opportunity to speak truth and love into a neighbor's life and they into yours, and not just with words.
     These photos of Little One were taken by a one such neighbor, one who might not hail from the South, but who nonetheless has a heart the size of Texas. Here's to good neighbors everywhere who can make your day a little brighter with a visit a smile or a howdy do!

Oh my goodness!

This is definitely not one of my better hair days...

I know what you are thinking....and don't you know that all
 women--young and old-- know how to purse their lips?!

No matter what, I am having a little fun...

    

Fall Fever

   Fall fever around my house is in full swing. For my husband, fall fever can primarily be summed up with one word: football, but for me it is the particular beauty, sounds, and scents that are reminiscent of autumn. It has become my favorite time of the year. I am not a big fan of winter, in fact the only redemptive thing about it in my mind is that it is the precursor to spring; but give me a beautiful fall day and I am happy. No humidity. Trees resplendent in their array of color. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot. Pumpkins. The scents of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and dried rosemary. Mums in containers by the front door. An early morning fire crackling in the porch fireplace and a steaming cup of coffee in my hands. Open doors and open windows. Blankets and quilts tucked on the back of chairs. Tiny gourds that you can only find at this season in odd shapes and sizes. Indian corn. And of course, pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie, and pumpkin spread. Why do my favorite things almost always involve food?!
    Hard to believe with the size of our tribe, that I have raised a family who does NOT like pumpkin pie. I used to make a variation of this recipe for my father-in-law since he and I were the only ones who could not stomach a fall celebration without a taste of pumpkin pie. It's a little more work than your average pie, but the crust and the topping make it special and worth your while. And since there is no longer a pumpkin shortage, make more than one.

Jimmy's Praline Pumpkin Pie

3/4 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1Tbsp all-purpose flour (I only use White Lily)
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
slightly more than a pinch of salt
1 cup of pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie filling)
2 large eggs
1 cup evaporated milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
Crust:
   1 9" pie crust (Unless you are a bake-it-from-scratch person, I use the Pillsbury refrigerated pie crust)
  1/2 cup ground pecans (use food processor to make it like coarse meal)
  3 Tbsp butter softened (I nevah evah use margarine; unsalted butter is a must)
  3 Tbsp dark brown sugar

   Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Take out Pillsbury pie crust and let come to room temperature. Assemble other ingredients in the meantime. Press Pillsbury crust into bottom of 9" pie plate (glass is preferred to non-stick). Grind pecans in food processor to a meal-like texture. Add butter and brown sugar to food processor to make a paste. Press firmly into the bottom (not the sides) of the pie crust.
   In a large bowl combine brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and salt; add pumpkin, evaporated milk and vanilla. Beat eggs in a separate bowl until frothy and then add to the pumpkin mixture, combining with a spoon until eggs are incorporated. Do not mix this to death.
   Pour into the unbaked pie shell. Bake 15 mins. at 425 degrees, then reduce temperature to 350 and bake 15 additional minutes. While this is baking, combine coarsely chopped pecans (see Praline topping below) brown sugar and butter and sprinkle on top of the pie when the second 15 mins. are up and bake 15-20 minutes more until pie is set. You may have to adjust the cooking time based upon your oven so start checking after the 40 min. mark.
Praline Topping:
   1/2 cup chopped pecans (do not grind the topping in the food processor; use your knife for a coarse chop)
   2 Tbsp butter, softened (remember the admonition above about using only unsalted butter)
   2 Tbsp dark brown sugar
      Mix well and add to top of pie 15 minutes before cooking time is up and center of pie is set.
Garnish with unsweetened whipping creme (I prefer the real stuff). Absolutely no Cool Whip for me!