Good Questions and Hot Chocolate

So my oldest son, Josh, called me from Hawaii where his ship is docked, and after I hung up my husband asked, “How is the boy going to inconvenience us this time?”

Good question.

It is going to happen. After all, he was born during the worst snowstorm of that year.

This time, even though we are out of a job (got laid off two weeks ago) and in the middle of a move, my son is bringing a young lady home, someone we have never met. On top of that, she is coming to my house a day before he is scheduled to arrive on the very day my husband is scheduled to have knee surgery at a hospital an hour away. The upshot is this:  A strange young woman is coming to my house when I will not be there, let herself in, be there when I get home, and then as I take care of my invalid, post-surgery husband, I will entertain her.

Is that all he wants?

Once when he came home from college, a six-hour road trip, he brought his roommate’s snake with him. It escaped. The snake and I drove that car around for a week before Josh finally found it.

Then there was the time when Josh hitchhiked and hopped trains all the way from our little town in Western Pennsylvania across the country, down to the tip of Mexico, and back again. He called me from Pittsburgh, an hour away from our town, and said he needed a ride home, could we come and get him? I don’t know why after traveling all those miles he couldn’t find his own way home, but off we went and what is the first thing that kid said to me when he saw me? “Mom,” he said, all innocence, “Your hair got gray.” Dear Reader, I will leave you to imagine what happened next. It was not pretty.

Josh is not the only troublemaker in our family, however. Every time I get off the phone with Gabriel, my youngest son, his dad asks me, “How much is this going to cost us?”

Another good question.

Gabriel is in China studying Chinese culture and Mandarin. He is full of good ideas, the latest is how he is going to spend the summer in Manchuria studying Chinese nomadic tribes. Great, I said. You can do anything you can pay for. That was the last I heard of that.

His dad and I finally had to say no to something.

We have already paid for two trips to Germany (to study the language, he said), and later that summer, the one to Beijing. And then there were those semesters at University, and the piano and the cello when he was a music major, and I won’t even talk about all the strangers he dragged home and we fed, and the traffic tickets we paid. Wait. I don’t want to think about it anymore.

 

I know what you are thinking:  Just say no.

Oh, but that it were that easy, because really, these apples did not fall very far from the tree.

Every time I want to say no, something deep within stops me. Conscience (or God) reminds me of almost all the conversations I have had with my mother since I became an adult. They all begin like this:  “Mom, I’m going to ask a favor of you and you can say no if you want to. . .”

Karen Baier’s Best Ever Hot Chocolate

Beauty is only a light switch away. That’s what my friend Karen says; she has a fabulously funny way with words.

Karen is the lustiest person I know. It is not just about sex; she embraces life and dances with it. She does everything to the maximum. She says her life has two speeds:  flat out and stop. After a few years of observation, I would say she is telling the truth.

A dyed-in-the-wool liberal, Karen loves politics and can discuss at length who is running for anything and why the Democrats should always be in the White House. She loves men and is really not very picky about them. He just has to be willing to sample from Karen’s smorgasbord of life, which includes opera, ballet, country music, square dancing, movies, theater, and all things fun. The only tie her man needs to own, she says, is a black tie.

Best of all, Karen is a passionate friend and my life and those around me are so much richer because of her.

Here is her entry into the recipe book.

Eagle Safe Ingredients

1 sheet matte gold cardstock, cut into these sizes: 6- by 6-inches, 4- by 5½-inches, 3¾- by 5¼-inches, 1- by 4-inches (to be cut later because you have to print on it), and 1- by 3-inches, lettering (lowercase is ½-inch high)

1 sheet black cardstock, cut into these sizes:  4½- by 6-inches, 1¼– by 5⅛-inches, 1¼- by 4⅜-inches, and 3¾- by 5¼-inches

1 sheet cream cardstock

Cowboy boot punch

Jolee’s eagle embellishment (http://jolees.eksuccessbrands.com/dept/Americana+and+Patriotic.aspx)

Steering wheel punch

Pop dots

Single-sided tape for hinges

Brown ink

Lettering, lowercase is ½-inch

1. Before you cut anything out, print the recipe and side card first. Since this was for my friend Karen, I used her name on the small gold card on the side. It says:  On Dec. 25, 2004, Karen Baier discovered the secret to a man's heart. You will want to replace that with your own sentiment. I used Times New Roman font, size 12 to print on the gold and Bradley Hand ITC, size 13, on the cream cardstock for the recipe.

2. Place the black piece size 1¼- by 4⅜-inches on your work surface right side up. Butt against it on the long side the black piece size 1¼– by 5⅛-inches right side down. Line them up so the shorter piece is centered on the longer piece. Use a 1-inch long piece of tape to “hinge” them together. They should be like long, skinny pages.

3. Secure the gold piece 1- by 3-inches to smaller black piece.

4. Repeat the process with the gold pieces sizes 4- by 5½-inches and 3¾- by 5¼-inches

5. Secure the black piece size 4½- by 6-inches to the right-hand side of the 6- by 6-inches square gold piece.

6. Secure the small black pieces to the left-hand side of the square gold piece.

7. Tear the recipe out of the cream cardstock, then ink the edges. It’s supposed to look like old parchment. Secure to the matte gold cardstock.

8. Secure the boot cutout to the small gold piece of paper. Secure that to the outside of the black piece of cardstock.

9. You can see how the card is laid out. I used a pop dot to secure the steering wheel.

Karen Baier’s Best Ever Hot Chocolate

16 ounces Nestle’s Quik chocolate powder drink mix

3 ounces Coffeemate non-dairy powdered creamer

16 ounces confectioner’s (powdered) sugar

8-quart box of carnation non-fat dry milk powder

Mix together. Store at room temperature in a dry container.

To make a cup of hot chocolate, put ⅓-cup of mix into a mug and fill with hot water. Top with whipped cream if you like.

Karen’s note:  Have a second cup. It won’t make you sick like hot cocoa or other hot chocolate mixes will.

Tower Bridge and Italian Toast

I once walked across Tower Bridge in London and because I am afraid of heights, halfway across I wanted to turn around and go back. Or better yet, walk down the middle of the bridge, which supports car traffic in both directions, and take my chances with the metal monsters zooming by. I did not, of course. I trudged on and even managed to look over the side of the rail without taking a detour to Davy Jones’ locker.

I consider my walk across Tower Bridge one of the best things I have ever done because besides confronting this fear, I saw up close the remarkable and inspiring beauty of the structure and construction of that bridge.

It’s just all that air that swirls around in between the bridge and the Thames below that gets me.

Today I am facing another bridge, only this one looks quite a bit less secure than Tower Bridge, and a lot higher up, too. It looks more like this:

 It must be crossed.

This is the last day of work for my husband at his job. He is joining the ranks of the unemployed, the first time in 31 years, which is our entire life together. As with most people in this situation, I do not know what will happen.

I always knew our lives here in Southern California were temporary, so we never bought a house, just rented. Although we still own a house in Tucson, we also have good tenants with a lease so we cannot return there. I cannot say where we will live. This is the first time I do not belong anywhere.

It would almost be too easy to become paralyzed with fear over this when I am able to see the rushing water far below. Those planks do not look very secure, either, especially for a big girl like me.

Still, I have under my right hand a secure rope railing, something the Holy Spirit told me just yesterday. “The tomb is empty,” He said.

Yes, the tomb is empty and the work is done. Now I, like the Apostles, have to do my part. They went back to their occupation of fishing before they began the job of evangelizing the world. I have to do what I know to do:  clean the house, pack boxes, think, pray, write.

Under my left hand is another secure rope railing, a scripture my friend Linda Kay was inspired to give me. It is 2^nd Timothy 1:7:  God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

Yes, this is scary; but as I grasp my secure rope railings, I take a deep breath, and step out. I have not yet found my footing, but I am not paralyzed by fear, either. Actually, I believe this is what freedom feels like. Scary, yes, but exhilarating, too.

Bruschetta

My friend Alice gave me this recipe and it so reflects who she is:  neat, tidy, spare. As with most people, however, Alice has another side, a huge spirit. She is loyal, steadfast, strong. Alice loves Harry Potter and came across the country to watch the last installment of The Deathly Hallows with me at my local IMAX. It was wonderful because watching it with her was like turning the last page of a beloved book together. We had enjoyed the series from the beginning together and now we could say goodbye to Harry together at the end. That was a gift.

Hey, Alice, let’s hit Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the one in Diagon Alley, before we go to the movie, ok? I have a coupon for U-NO-POO.

Here's the recipe card:

 Card Ingredients:

1 sheet olive green cardstock cut into these sizes:  (1) 6-inch square, (2) 5- by 6-inches, and (1) 4½- by 1-inch

1 sheet shiny gold cardstock

1 sheet matte gold cardstock cut to a 6-inch square

1 sheet matte light gold cardstock 

1 sheet good quality white paper

1 sheet shiny gold paper (lighter weight than cardstock) for cutting out letters

1 sheet tomato red cardstock

1 sheet matching decorative paper cut to 4½- by 5½-inches

1 scrap of leaf green (for the tomato stem)

1 sheet plain transparent overlay (nothing printed on it)

Lettering, about ½ -inch high for lowercase letters

8 small eyelets

1 stamp of olives and leaves

Black embossing powder

1 small leaf punch

Twine

Single-sided strong tape to be used as hinges, about ½-inch wide

Although this card seems complex, it is simple, so do not get discouraged. There are just a lot of steps. Here we go:

In the first steps you will construct the recipe card “book” and pages.

1. Out of the middle of the 6-inch matte gold and olive green squares cut a square approximately 4¼-inches by 4¾-inches. Set them aside.
2. Print the recipe on the matte light gold paper. I used Lucida Calligraphy font size 12 for the recipe and font size 14 for the title. Now cut the recipe down to about 4½-inches by 5¼-inches. It does not have to be exact.
3. Lay one of the smaller pieces of olive green cardstock down on your work surface right side up. Butt the piece of shiny gold cardstock right side down against the olive green cardstock so the top edges are touching and the sides are lined up. Tape the pieces together so they are like pages and can open and close.
4. With the “pages” open, lay the 6-inch square piece of olive green cardstock right side down on top of the shiny gold piece so its top edge is butt up to the top edge of the smaller olive green cardstock. Be sure it is centered. Tape the pieces together so that once again they are like pages that can be opened and closed. You should have three pages.

Now it is time to put together the inside pages. The point of doing it in this order is to hide as much of the tape as possible, so the hinge is on the inside, sandwiched between the papers.

5. Secure the recipe printed on gold to the back green page.
6. With the green cardstock square placed (or turned) so it is face down, secure the matte gold cardstock with the center cut out to it, lining up the edges.
7. Cut a squashed circle out of the red scrap of cardstock so it mimics the shape of a tomato. Use a green scrap to make a stem. If you look at the picture you will be able to see what it looks like.
8. Punch four holes for eyelets into the square cardstock and into the tomato, just as it shows in the photo.
9. This part is only a bit tricky. Hang the tomato into the cut-out with string. Be careful you do not hang it too tightly as it will distort the paper.
10. Secure the decorative paper to the second piece of smaller green cardstock, then secure both of those to the back of the shiny gold piece of cardstock. I found a stamp of olives and leaves and embossed that onto the decorative paper. You do not have to. I just thought my paper was a bit plain.

Ready for the front page? We are nearly done.

The front is meant to look like an olive oil tin from the company, Antica Italia, as you can see from the picture. On the front of its tin the company uses this image, which I downloaded  from the Internet. It is easy enough to find since it is from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, called, The Creation of Man.

11. Print the image, The Creation of Man, onto the good quality white paper and crop to about 3⅞- by 5½-inches.
12. Secure the Bruschetta lettering to the bottom of the image. I cut the letters out of lightweight gold paper with a Quickutz and they are about ½ -inch lower case.
13. On the transparent overlay, print in olive color font size 14 Arial:  Extra Virgin Olive Oil, centered ½-inch from the top, and Net Contents 1-inch from the bottom, justified right. It will help if you set your margins for 3⅞- by 5½-inches, the same as the downloaded image and the finished size. You should experiment first with a sheet of typing paper to make sure you get the correct placement for your text.
14. Secure the image to the shiny gold piece, centering it. Be sure you line the image up at the bottom. The top will fall a bit short.
15. Secure at the top only the transparent overlay. Again, line it up at the bottom and the top will fall a bit short.
16. Add the leaf.
17. Line the small piece of green cardstock up with the top of the card and secure it.
18. Add the Antica Italia lettering.
19. Take a deep breath and admire your work.
20. Send your email address if you have questions.

Here’s the recipe:

Bruschetta

1 teaspoon minced garlic

¼ cup olive oil

8 ounces cherry tomatoes

1 loaf artisan bread such as Italian bread or ciabatta, thickly sliced and toasted

3 ounces feta cheese, sliced or crumbled into little chunks

Fresh basil leaves, chopped

Steep garlic in olive oil at least one half hour.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Wash and stem tomatoes and cut them in half. Put tomatoes in a shallow dish, pour olive oil and garlic over and toss lightly. Bake ten minutes; sprinkle with chunks of cheese and chopped basil. Stir gently. Drain liquid.

Serve on toast.

Alice’s note: This recipe yields lots of servings.

Semper Fi, Uncle, and Thanks

What does, “Support Our Troops,” mean? 

How exactly do I go about supporting our troops? Is it as simple as saying, Thank you, to everyone in uniform I see?

For me saying that is just a meaningless token; a throwaway expression to be repeated on occasion, like asking, How are you? I remember reading about a firefighter who was at the Twin Towers on 9/11. He stopped telling people what he did for a living because he just did not want to hear thank you one more time or talk about it anymore. I wonder, is that how our veterans feel?

Perhaps I could place a magnet shaped like a ribbon on my car that says, Support Our Troops. I will not do that either. That seems like another meaningless gesture, destined to fade into nothingness. I know the sentiment has its roots in the Vietnam War and how we mistreated and shunned our returning troops. We do not want to repeat that mistake.

Still, just how do I, or any of us, go about showing or giving support in a way that has meaning? What exactly does it require?

I have been pondering this ever since I had lunch with my dad’s brother last Saturday. My dad is the youngest of 10 and Uncle C is the next up in line. They are the only ones left in that generation of their family so I try to stay in touch with Uncle C, especially now that I live in Los Angeles.

To understand what follows, you have to understand Uncle C. A Mexican-American man who grew up on the mean streets of Los Angeles, he faced prejudice head on. By hard work and talent he rose from being a ditch digger to far up the ranks in a local utility company. He does not hold back on what he believes and even at his age, 82, will fight (and I mean fist fight) anyone who disrespects him. He will not back down.

Above all, he is a Marine. A Korean War veteran, Uncle C’s life still bears the mark of the Corps. His home is shipshape, his person is shipshape, and even though he is afraid it is not, his mind is shipshape.

Saturday found us at a late lunch, then riding in the car while Uncle C drove around doing errands in his town. It’s a lovely town and he was showing me some houses he had owned through the years. At one house he told me about Bubba, a black Labrador dog he had owned who had escaped from the yard. As he looked for Bubba, he spotted the dog catcher, who, sadly, had found Bubba in the street, a victim of an encounter with a car. Bubba was now in the back of the dog catcher’s van in a black plastic garbage bag. Would Uncle C like to see the dog? Yes, Uncle C said, he would.

Question:  How do you scare a combat-hardened veteran?

When he was in Korea, it was Uncle C’s job to sneak into enemy territory and tell the artillery where to direct their strikes. Uncle C left out many details—this is war, after all, not a fit subject for a woman or any civilian, for that matter—he just told us the basics of his job. On this particular day, he came back to camp from duty and saw several black body bags lined up, not an unusual sight. This time, though, the captain told him that among those in the bags was a particular person Uncle C knew. Would Uncle C like to see the body? Yes, Uncle C said, he would. Turns out it was his best friend.

Answer:  Here is how you scare a combat-hardened veteran.

So there on the street Uncle C stood with the dog catcher and the black plastic bag. Uncle C said when the dog catcher opened the bag it was not the dog’s body he saw, but the body of his dead friend from the Korean War. Uncle C said he started shaking and could barely get home. While he told me the story, he began sobbing and shaking.

Then he was in control again and we continued on his errands as though nothing had happened. It is strange how an emotional, life-changing event like that can be sandwiched into the ordinary events of any ordinary day.

Until then I had only ever thought of “Support Our Troops” as a slogan that has lost its meaning through overuse and glibness. Now I know what it really means.

It is not easy listening to war stories. They are filled with the pain of the most terrible deaths and losses, pain that easily lasts these veterans a lifetime. Sometimes that pain needs to find expression and be received and carried for a moment by another person. For me, and I say this with great humility, it is a gift that just once, just for that moment, I helped carry his pain. I supported my troops.

Except, of course, for this:  I will carry that day with me for the rest of my life.

Uncle Claudio, I say this with the greatest respect:  Thanks. For everything.

Wassail

The recipe's donor, KC, and I became friends in a backhanded sort of way. I worked with her husband, Jack, at our local newspaper when I was a reporter and he a photographer, actually the head of the photographic department. One year I was having a party on Christmas Eve and I invited Jack and his wife. We were sitting around talking, and eating, and doing other party stuff when my dad said to me, You have a full house. It did not seem crowded to me but there were a number of people there. No, he said, like in poker, you have among your guests three Karens and two Alices—a full house. 

KC, my Full House friend, I raise a glass to you.

Card ingredients:

1 blue sheet of cardstock, cut to these sizes:  6- by 6-inches square, ⅝-inches by 5-inches

1 sheet of vellum

1 sheet decorative Christmas paper that matches the cardstock, cut to 5½-inches square

6 ½-inch brads, three snowflakes and three pine trees. You could also use six ½ -inch cutouts

Secure the decorative paper to the 6-inch square cardstock. Print the recipe on the vellum. I used Goudy or Gothic font (Sorry; I cannot remember which) and printed the ingredients in size 11, the instructions in size 12, and the title is size 14. After you print, give the vellum time to dry before handling it; the ink will smear if it is still wet. When it is dry, cut the vellum to 3½-inches by 4¾-inches. Secure the vellum to the Christmas paper but put the adhesive on the vellum where you will lay down the blue paper strip. This way the adhesive will be covered and not show through.

You can see how the card is laid out from the picture; this is an easy one.

Wassail Ingredients

4 cups apple juice

4 cups cranberry juice

2 large cinnamon sticks, broken

A few whole allspice

A few whole cloves (you can also put the cloves in a small orange and toss into the drink)

Mix and heat in a crockpot.

KC’s note:  This recipe can be doubled or better yet, spiked with rum.

Hot Cars, Coffee, and Palmiers

The older I get, the more it becomes apparent:  some things never change.

Years and years ago, before we used seatbelts and I was just a kid, our family made many trips to Los Angeles, where my cousins lived. We would all pile into our pale yellow station wagon, which my dad called Betsy, and after riding hours through the hot, boiling hot, Central Valley of California, we arrived, a bunch of limp rags, at Aunt Connie and Uncle Manuel’s house. Air conditioning? What’s that?

Because the trip was long—eight hours—and there were so many of us—four kids in all, with only two bench seats and no seatbelts—my dad bought a piece of foam, which he cut to fit in the back part of the wagon. In this way the seating was extended and we had a place to play while he drove. Today we cannot even imagine doing something as dangerous as letting anyone ride in a car without a seatbelt, but this was back in the day when kids could walk by themselves to the local five and dime store, more or less but not necessarily unmolested, and your parents believed whatever teachers, police, and politicians told them.  

I remember taking one such drive at Christmas, but mostly we went during the summer. Because of this, there was a strict rule:  No one is to have crayons in the way back, which is what we called it. They would melt and there was no getting that out.

Of course I left crayons in the back. Of course they melted. Of course I got in trouble.

For our next summer trip we got a new pad. It was nice and clean and my mother even made it a nice, new muslin cover. Same rules, only this time we just knew there would be Hell to pay and not just Hell, no, another circle would be added to the Inferno for such sinners as those who left crayons to melt in the hot car. Even though I tried so hard not to, I left my crayons to melt, leaving little round, colored spots all over the cover and pad.

The morning after we arrived in Los Angeles everything seemed so nice until my dad, sputtering his anger and displeasure, marched us all out to find the perpetrator, the one who had despoiled the pad and cover. Who left those crayons in the car? As it happened, no one asked me directly if I had left those freaking crayons and I am not crazy enough or stupid enough to admit I did it and thus incur more punishment. Are you nuts? I said nothing and soon the storm blew over.

Except, of course, nothing ever does change. Forty years later, my family happened to be together and my parents began wondering who left those crayons in the car. I had forgotten about the entire incident; it had fallen completely out of my memory until they mentioned it. I thought, what’s the harm? I admitted I was the culprit.

That’s when Josh, my 30-year-old son, told a story of his own.

One day when he was young, we went to the grocery store together. This was nothing new and he always knew what to get in the next aisle, so I allowed him. After a short time he came back with my item. Turns out it was the aisle with the coffee grinder, placed just there at eye level for a little kid.

When I got to that aisle, there were coffee grounds all over the floor, the shelves, the food items, everywhere. It looked like a sack of monkeys had gotten into a can of Folgers. I looked around in disgust and said, “Some people should take better care of their kids!”

Dear Reader, you know how this ends. Josh said he liked to turn on the grinder; he did it often. This time, however, coffee grounds, lots of them, spewed out. Not knowing what else to do, he quickly spread them around in the vain hope no one would notice.

It did not occur to me to ask him directly if he was the culprit. And being neither stupid nor crazy, he volunteered no information.

Yes, some people should take better care of their kids. But then again, what do you expect from people who leave wax crayons in a hot car?

Palmiers:

My friend Judith gave me this recipe for Palmiers. Very easy to prepare, Palmiers give a satisfying end and are especially nice with coffee. They taste good and look elegant, not unlike Judith, who has very good taste and likes all things elegant and Victorian.

Here are the card ingredients:

1 sheet of red cardstock

3 sheets of decorative paper

1 sheet double-sided decorative paper

1 piece of cardboard, not too thick as you will have to cut it.

3 decorative brads

Heart punch

Decorative lettering, about ½-inch tall

Paper crimper

If you follow the photo, you will know how to lay out the card.

Here are the steps:

1. Cut the red cardstock to 6- by 6-inches
2. Cut one of the decorative papers to 5½- by 5½-inches and secure to the cardstock.
3. Crimp the paper that will be on the outside of the hand.
4. Make a hand pattern by tracing your own or a child’s hand. My pattern hand is 4¾-inches across by 6 ⅛-inches tall.
5. Cut out a hand from the cardboard, the decorative paper, and the crimped decorative paper and adhere them together like a sandwich, cardboard in the middle.
6. Secure a red heart to the outside side of the hand.
7. You will have to make some practice prints of the recipe on scrap paper until you know it will fit on the double-sided paper. I used size 12 Arial font.
8. Print the recipe on the double-sided decorative paper, then cut it out to 12-inches wide by 2½-inches high.
9. Fold the recipe paper in half, printed side in. Then fold each side into thirds so there are five folds altogether but six sections. It’s ok if the measurements are not exact. You just need to have the folds.
10. Secure one end section to the hand so the recipe is facing up and the other end section to the card.
11. Add the three decorative brads to the upper left corner.
12. Secure the lettering of your choice to the front. I used a ½–inch font from Quickutz. 

Here is the recipe:

1 package frozen puff pastry, thawed

2 cups granulated sugar

1 tablespoon cinnamon (optional)

2. Mix the cinnamon and sugar together. Spread about ½ cup of the sugar mixture on your work area. Lay one sheet of the puff pastry on the sugar. Spread about another ½ cup sugar mixture on the puff pastry.
3. Roll both ends of the puff pastry towards the middle, making a heart shape. Cut the roll into slices a scant ½-inch. Place on a parchment-covered baking sheet about 1-inch apart (they expand during baking).
4.  Bake in a 425-degree oven for 10 minutes or until the bottoms have caramelized. Turn the palmiers over and bake an additional 5 minutes.

Smoke Signals and Apple Cake

Yep, that’s me at Disneyland, on the Tower of Terror ride just before it drops. Can you guess which one I am? I will tell you at the end, but here’s a hint:  I actually almost like this picture of me.

I once read that people who live in Southern California consider Disneyland their own personal playground. There’s truth in that. I know I get irate when I go to D-land and there are too many tourists. “Where did all these tourists come from?” I fuss to my guest. Never mind that a short year ago I was said tourist. My guest is probably a tourist, too.

Of all the benefits of moving to Los Angeles from my home in the Southwest, I consider my D-land pass—the premium one with no blackout dates—the most important. When we have guests I always take them to D-land. Some are only tolerant of the idea but after a day spent Soarin’ over California or helping the Rebel Alliance in 3-D, I soon convert them to the happy side.

I do love Disneyland.

When I was a kid, my family and I lived in the San Francisco Bay Area and on Sunday nights I watched The Wonderful World of Disney. I watched that show and longed to go to Disneyland. And a stay at the Disneyland Hotel? That was just literally beyond imagination. To me, a poor, little Mexican kid, only Rich, White People stayed there and the only word in that phrase that even sort of described me is “people.”

That feeling of being on the outside persisted throughout my childhood and into adulthood. My parents moved us to New England, where I came of age, and then to a small Northeastern Rust Belt town. I never did see anyone in either place who looked anything like me.

Eventually I met my husband and raised a family. My husband does NOT care about D-land and he made that quite plain from the beginning. It did not matter. We lived in that small town for 25 years and I never did fit in and it never did feel like home. Once a year, however, one of my three children and I made a pilgrimage to California so they could know their Mexican family and heritage—at least that’s what I told my husband and his white bread family. In reality I wanted my children to know the joys and pleasures of Disneyland.

It is not easy feeling like you do not fit and knowing those you think should care do not. It came out all right the year my grandfather, Angel Mijares, died, though. I think of it as a gift he gave me. On Thanksgiving of that year I set off on the cross-country flight to Los Angeles to say goodbye to him. I have to say, my sadness surprised me so one day I went to Disneyland alone. I did not ride any rides, but I walked all over the park. It was hot and crowded but all I could see were bunches of little kids having fun. It comforted me. That is the day I knew, without a doubt and with no small pleasure, I am homeless no more.

Today, because of my pass, I can go to D-land whenever I please, and have even stayed at the Disneyland Hotel. Until last July I had a great D-land partner; we went every two weeks. Through experience, we learned how to maximize our visit. We had it down. I still have it down but now there is a problem. Gabriel, my D-land partner and youngest son, is no longer available. He left home, drawn by China’s siren call. If I want to go with him, I will have to wait until 2016, then go to Shanghai, where a Disneyland Park is scheduled to open.

I go to Disneyland by myself now. As it happens, there are plenty of people who go alone and I am happy to be a part of their club. It’s ok, because Mickey always has time to visit. And here’s another option. A cast member once told me that Walt Disney himself, though he died in 1966, sometimes visits his old office. You know he’s there because you can smell his cigarette smoke, even though smoking is absolutely forbidden in the park except in designated areas, and none of those areas are by his former office. True story.

These days, when I am alone I make a point to walk past Walt’s office. We haven’t crossed paths yet, but someday . . .

Apple Cake:

Ok, so Disneyland has nothing to do with apple cake. Here’s the very thin thread I will use to loosely tie it all altogether.

My husband’s experience is just the opposite of mine. He is third from the bottom of 11 children, comes from that small town I mentioned, and can trace his family history back to the Revolutionary War in that same small town.  Until a few years ago, he knew nothing of moving, of feeling outside of things, or of the courage it takes to leave home and begin a new life.

This recipe came from his mother, Beulah, who is now gone. She was well known for the fruits of her oven, which she contributed to weekly bake sales, the proceeds of which built the only Catholic Church in her corner of the town.

All of us in the family have the recipe and over the years, I have eaten apple cake at picnics and family reunions made by several different hands. The funny thing is, not one of us can make it like my mother-in-law and in fact, they all taste different from one another. Personally, I believe mine is the closest to Beulah’s (we probably all say that).

I used a real sliced apple for the pattern and again, use the usual paper craft tools and supplies to make this card. I used a color pencil to draw in the seeds.

 

Here are the card ingredients:

1 piece of dark brown cardstock, cut into a 6- by 6-inch piece and a scrap for an apple stem

1 piece of beige cardstock, to be cut down later

2 pieces of scrap red cardstock, big enough to cut out an apple shape

Two pieces of creamy white cardstock, to mimic the inside of an apple, and again, big enough to cut out an apple shape

1 scrap of green cardstock, big enough for a leaf

Jolee’s worm

Jolee’s apple pieces

Tape, two pieces, single-sided, about 3/8-inches wide, cut to about 1-inch lengths, to be used as a kind of hinge

Note:  Jolee no longer makes the exact apples and worms I used, but the company has other stickers and embellishments that would fit, so check those out here (this is not a paid endorsement. I just like their stuff):  http://www.eksuccessbrands.com/jolees/

If you choose to make your own, the little apple on the side is about ⅝-inches around.

There are a few things you should do before putting the card together.

1. Print the title on the beige cardstock. I used about size 20 Bradley Hand ITC.
2. My title block is 5¾-inches wide by ⅝-inches high. Just cut it so the lettering looks pleasing.
3. From the beige, cut one of each size:  4⅛- by 4⅞-inches and 1¼- by 2½-inches.
4. I made practice recipe prints on scrap typing paper before I printed it on the creamy white cardstock. I used size 11 Bradley Hand ITC, then moved the paragraphs up and down until they fit into the inside of the apple. I fit the text in correctly by trial and error. You can see from the photo how it was placed. Do not cut out the apple shapes until you have printed the recipe. Then draw the apple shape around the recipe and cut it out. I used the same apple pattern as I did for the red apples, but cut it out inside the lines so it was smaller all around.
5. Punch a small hole in one of the red cardstock apples, poke the worm through, then secure it with adhesive. That is now the front apple.
6. On the other red apple, secure the brown stem to the back of the piece. That is the side that will be secured to the card. Do not secure it to the card yet.
7. Lay the apples shoulder to shoulder right side down. Place the tape sticky side down on the parts where the apple pieces touch, in other words, on their shoulders. Essentially, you are making a hinge.
8. Secure the apples to the beige piece of paper.
9. Secure the creamy white apples to the red apples.

From the picture you can see how the card is laid out and what is to go where, unless you like something different.

Here’s the recipe:

Mix:

1¾ cups sugar

¾ cups oil

3 eggs

Beat until well blended.

Combine:

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon vanilla

Mix with egg and sugar mixture.

Add:

2 cups diced apples

½ cup chopped nuts

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Bake for 50 minutes in a greased and floured 9- by 13-inch pan.

PS:

I’m the one in pink, praying. Sitting next to me is my brother, Roger, who really did not care about Disneyland until I dragged him there. Then he could not get enough of it, especially the Tower of Terror, because it reminded him of the Twilight Zone.

Sorry this was so long. I will not make any promises for the next posting.

My E Ticket Ride and Guacamole

I have been feeling a lot lately like I am going to pieces and I can’t seem to get a handle on why. When that happens I know a look back is in order and after looking back, all I can say now is I’m just surprised I’m not thrashing around in the deep end.

I live in a small town in Northern Los Angeles County, squarely in the Mojave Desert. I’ve lived here for just a little more than a year and I know two people in town:  My husband, JT, and my next door neighbor, Ralph. Result:  I'm a bit lonely.

At the end of July, my last child left home. For thirty years someone was around to call me Mom. Now no one does. The funny thing is that I have spent all their time in my house, beginning with pregnancy and every day straight through their teens (especially their teens) looking forward to the day they would all be gone. Why am I so sad that I have lost my job?

A few months ago a beloved auntie was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. She died in early September, two days after my birthday.

My mom and dad came to see her before she died and while they were here (fortunately I live a short hour and a half from my auntie’s house) my mother had to take my father to the emergency room at the local hospital, where he spent the next ten days. Turns out he was diagnosed with colon cancer about two years ago and since he chose not to take the traditional route of surgery and chemo, the end result is he now has a colostomy bag. My parents chose not to tell two of my brothers and me about the cancer until they were forced to by this little surgery.

They—my dad, mom, and one brother, who lives with them and was sworn to secrecy about the cancer—spent two months recuperating here in my house. They left at the end of September.

Finally, last week I learned my husband’s job comes to an end December 31 of this year. I am not worried (not too much, anyway) because I know God is looking after this, but I wonder, where will we find ourselves next?

Whew.

Is it any wonder I want to eat another chimichanga grande (that’s a euphemism for a giant, deep-fried burrito) topped with guacamole and sour cream and finish the meal with a strawberry sundae at Disneyland? If I were truly honest I would also tell you that though I am a teetotaler, I would like several cases of cerveza to wash the whole thing down. I will instead settle for a great big Coke, the kind from Mexico (because it is so sweet and gives you instant diabetes), with lots of ice.

It’s a funny thing about change. First, life changes, then it lets you know and you get to catch up. I guess Life is letting me know and I am certainly playing catch-up. On the other hand, even if I cannot see the destination, it is both exciting and daunting to be on another journey, though I prefer to think of it as my new E Ticket ride.

I used to live in a small Rust Belt town and about seven years ago we moved to the Southwest. This was a great move altogether as it gave me an opportunity to heal a lot of old emotional wounds. Before I left, however, I asked each of my friends for two recipes with the intention of making them into a kind of fancy recipe card book. As I made a card for each recipe, I thought about the friend who had given me the recipe and what she meant to me. Even though we were separated by thousands of miles of blacktop and Lord knows what else, we were not separated in heart. I tried to represent each friend in some small way in each card.

These cards were a pleasure to design and construct and today it is my pleasure to share them and the instructions on how to make them with you. I will post twice a week with a new thought and a new recipe card for six weeks. At that time, I will evaluate this blogging thing to see if I should continue to post. I hope you will accompany me on this new ride I seem to have boarded.  I know I already feel better having given out the invitation.

Guacamole:

The thing to remember is each card presented begins with a six-inch piece of cardstock. I used Bazzill brand when possible, mostly because I like the textures they offer.

My Aunt Chelo gave me this recipe for guacamole. She told me the secret to good guac is to dice everything small.

I used a real avocado and pit for the pattern and listed it in my card ingredients, but you do not have to if you do not want to. I’m just not good drawing freehand. Also, although I will tell you what colors I used, they will not be the real names and anyway, you should feel free to use the colors you like.

Use the usual card-making tools such as paper cutters, adhesives, and punches. I used a punch that made a little gecko lizard for this card. In another card that will come next week, I used one that made a high heel. You can also use a sticker or any of those die cutting machines.

Here are my directions:

Card Ingredients:

1 avocado, sliced in two

1 avocado pit

1 12- x 12-inch sheet of off-white cardstock, cut into these sizes:  6- by 6-inches and 4¾- by 4⅛-inches

1 8½- by 11-inch sheet of brown cardstock, cut into these sizes:  5- by 5⅝-inches, ½- by 4⅜-inches, and ½-inch square

1 8½- by 11-inch sheet of velum, the cutting comes later

A scrap of green cardstock, the color of avocado

A scrap of yellow-green cardstock, the color of avocado meat

Off-white lettering to match the foundation cardstock, about ⅜-inch high

2 brown brads

A die-cut lizard, about ⅝-inches long

From the picture you can see how the cardstock is laid out.

To print the guacamole recipe, I used size 10 font, Comic Sans MS. Make sure you set the margins so the recipe will fit when you cut the velum to 4¾- by 4⅛-inches. 

Here’s the recipe:

1 clove garlic, minced

¼ onion, chopped small

¼ to ½ tomato, chopped small

1 tablespoon cilantro, minced

1 teaspoon more or less, canned, chopped jalapeño (Be careful; it’s hot)

Salt to taste

1 fairly ripe avocado (still a little firm to the touch)

Combine the first six ingredients in a plastic or glass bowl.

Cut the avocado in half longwise and remove the pit. While still in the skin, carefully cut the meat of the avocado with a knife, being careful not to cut through the skin. Scoop out the meat, which will be in little rectangles, and combine with the chopped vegetables. Chill for one hour.

If you got to the end of this entry, I promise: the next entry will not be nearly this long (I hope).