So, I am moving.  Again.  I contemplated Blogger when I first moved and I should have gone with it.  WordPress has a more elegant look, true, but elegance doesn’t replace ease of use.  

Please, please come with me.  I’d be so lonely without you. 

http://byfidelityandfortitude.blogspot.com/

Click on the link and you’ll go right there.  Then put it into your favorites.  I’ll stay put for a while.  I promise!

Of course, before the 4 degrees hit, a snowstorm is supposed to hit, so we’ll be snowed in anyway.  This is why people in Minnesota homeschool, you know, so they don’t have to go out on days like that in the snow and cold. 

In our kitchen, we have a digital thermometer which flashes a cute little snowflake whenever the outside temperature gets into snow range.  We know we’re in trouble, though, when a tiny nose starts flashing because that means that it’s cold enough to freeze snot!  The nose knows to stay inside on those days. 

As you can see, it’s still a balmy 18 degrees here tonight. 

Four years ago, Minnesota lured us here under false pretenses.  We visited in February, supposedly one of the coldest months of the year, but we walked around with our coats open and had to strip off layers when the sun came out.  “Oh, this is unusually warm,” we heard.  Okay, this wasn’t so bad.  How much worse could it really be?  Heh.  We found out once we accepted a job and bought a house!         

Just when I think I’m getting used to living in Minnesota, it becomes winter again.  And then I start checking the vacant pulpit lists in Florida and Texas.

So, last Sunday, I used her recipe for Spicy Pulled Pork. 

(This was early on in the cooking process.)  I left out the cumin and cut back on the chili powder in deference to the kids’ and my wimpy palates, but the flavor was still very good, not overpowering as I was afraid it might be.  And versatile.  On Sunday, we had pulled pork sandwiches; on Monday, we had the pork on its own with different sides; Tuesday, we had pork, potato and carrot calzones.  Tonight, we finished it off for a special leftover night!  So, four meals from 5 pounds of pork!  Woohoo!  It doesn’t take much to get me excited.  So, two thumbs up for the Spicy Pulled Pork.

Yesterday, I baked a batch of PW’s Oatmeal Crispies.  These, you mix up, roll into logs and chill or freeze until ready to use. 

Then slice and pop ‘em in the oven.  Easy as “boughten” dough and no annoying Dough Boy to face.

Somehow, even frozen overnight, mine were a little too soft, but that worked out okay.  One of the things I dislike about rolled and sliced cookies like this is that they sometimes come out looking…well, square.  And while Huey Lewis and the News once averred that “It’s hip to be square,” I have to say that doesn’t apply to cookies.  I like my cookies to conform, blend in with the crowd.  It’s their flavor that should stand out, not their shape.  So, anyway.  Being a little too soft meant that they melted nicely while baking and came out round.  And oh, so yummy.

This recipe is so simple and so straight-forward, I confess that I was expecting rather bland cookies.  True, these are supposed to be PW’s husband’s favorite cookies, but this is also a man who prefers bicuits out of a can so I’m not going to rely on him as the arbiter of good taste.  Sorry, MM.  So, I was surprised – but happily so – when I found that these cookies are really, truly delicious.  I added chocolate chips and peanut butter chips just ’cause it’s not really a cookie unless it includes chocolate, but – and I don’t say this lightly – these cookies could stand on their own with no chocolate.  *gasp*  I know!  That was my reaction, too!  So, simple and delicious.  And my own dear husband seems mighty fond of them, too.  Two thumbs way up.   

Then, today, I decided to try PW’s Mocha Brownie recipe.  Actually, I left out the mocha frosting and just went for the brownies.  I thought, “Wouldn’t it be cute to make the brownie in my mini-muffin tins?  Then I could decorate them with a swirl of mint flavored frosting and have little mint chocolate bites?”  Too cute.  Right?  Well, it all went horribly wrong in the baking process.  I think I made two mistakes (at least, probably more!): 1) I didn’t grease the tins enough and 2) I filled the cups too full.  This led to brownies which resisted all but the heartiest effort to free them which, in turn, led to a large mound of brownie bits.  This is no reflection on PW’s excellent recipe.  The flavor is wonderful and went very well with large mounds of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce tonight.  If I had followed her directions, I might now be laying away a large tray of brownies for Christmas consumption.  So, I give the recipe one thumb up for flavor and withold the other thumb’s judgement until I can make the recipe again.  What a trial to have to make brownies again!   

So far, these recipes are keepers.  Thanks, Ree.

Every year, while Grandma sorted through the front closet for scarves, gloves, and hats (or “toques” as she called them) and bundled us up, Grandpa went down to the farm, hooked up a trailer to the John Deere and chugged up the road to get us.  We piled into the trailer: my brother and sister, sometimes my mom or the neighbor girl, and I and headed off to pick out the perfect Christmas tree.  We were hardly candidates for an Eddie Bauer catalog cover in our odd assortment of old coats and mismatched accessories (I often wore an ancient blue coat of Grandma’s) but we were on a quest and we all knew that we mustn’t disappoint Grandma’s expectations as she loved the tree decorating as much as we did.  Usually, Grandpa had scouted the area and knew where we might find a good candidate.  Otherwise, we might have wandered for hours, debating the relative merits of twenty different trees.  When we had all approved that year’s specimen, Grandpa pulled out the chainsaw and made short work of cutting the trunk and any straggling branches toward the bottom.  He placed the tree into the trailer and we kids piled back in, inhaling deeply the scent of fresh-cut fir.  The trip back was as merry as the trip out with singing and laughing and shouting.  In my memories, the landscape is always snow-covered, though I know that we had a few brown Christmases in there, but the fun was the same with or without snow. 

Twelve Christmases ago, John and I had a tiny bundled baby to take with us to pick out a tree.  At that time, we lived in Columbus and had a tree place just down the street from us.  So, we wrapped up William warmly and I put him in the front pack and we walked a few blocks to the tree lot.  As we walked, snow flakes began to fall and we savored the joy of our first Christmas as parents.  We chose a tree, they wrapped it up, John hoisted it onto his shoulder and we set off for home.  John soon found that walking “a few blocks” beside his lovely wife and new son was a whole lot easier than walking those same blocks with a large tree on his shoulder.  He made it though, and that’s the last quiet Christmas we’ve had. 

More recently, here in Minnesota, we found a tree place out toward Stillwater that has lots of beautiful trees, a big echo-y barn, and a shack with hot chocolate for shivering kids.  They wrap the tree and tie it on top of the van for us and it’s all very convenient. 

This year, we sacrificed convenience and ambience for a different kind of convenience – cheap trees.  We went to Menard’s (for those of you not from the upper Midwest, Menard’s is like Lowe’s or Home Depot.).  We went into the Garden section and picked the best of a pretty scraggly lot.  Obviously, I have a lot of experience in this field and I can tell a Frasier fir when I see a Frasier fir (Don’t be intimidated by my expertise.  You can learn, too.).  Besides the sign said that it was a Frasier fir.  But when we got to the check out, the girl (who must have drawn the short straw to be working out in the Garden center on a night when the temperature is already in the low 30s) said that despite the white tag which read “Frasier fir” it was not, in fact, a Frasier fir.  They were out of Frasier firs.  So, she charged us for a cheaper tree.  Hmmm.  Okay.  Who are we to argue?  Someone came and wrapped the tree for us, but we had to tie the tree onto the car for ourselves.  No friendly tree lot worker to do it for us.  Liability or something.  But they did have string we could use.  So John and I tied one on tied the tree on and drove home, very slowly since we weren’t terribly confident in my knot-tying abilities. 

In the end, of course, it’s not the shape or the fullness or the longevity of its needles that makes a Christmas tree special.  It’s the family and friends who make memories around it. 

And the amount of presents underneath and whether or not there’s a good one for me.  That makes it really special.

This year, we gave thanks in Wisconsin among John’s extended family: uncles, aunts, cousins, more cousins, and Grandma.  There were about sixty of us, so we rented a community hall where some of the uncles and aunts roller skated in their youth.  (I will refrain from using adjectives like “long-past” or “dim and dusty” to describe that youth.  I don’t want to get in trouble!)

Here’s a shot of the whole gang.  The youngest was about 6 months old and the oldest was 93, Grandma L.

The lovely lady on the left is Grandma.  Isn’t she gorgeous?  She and Grandpa raised six kids through the 30s, 40s and 50s and did a pretty great job. 

The food, of course, was amazing.  Micah was okay with the main course, but he really loved the desserts.  Here you can see that he has two desserts in front of him: ice cream with sprinkles and pumpkin pie.  Later, he went back for a piece of chocolate eclair torte.  Can’t blame him, really - they were all delicious – but still rather amusing that our picky eater who would rather go hungry than eat something which originated from a plant or has any plant-like ingredients would have three desserts, including pumpkin pie.  Please don’t tell him that pumpkins grow on vines and are good for you.  The Santa thing was traumatic enough. 

That’s not a “soul patch” on Sam there, just some chocolate syrup from his ice cream adventure. 

Our kids eventually warmed up to the gaggle of second cousins – it’s hard to come in without really knowing anyone no matter how friendly the kids are.  By the end of the day, though, Sam and a four-year-old cousin, Nicholas, were fast friends. 

Among my list of things for which to give thanks – which is a pretty long list, you know – I put my husband’s extended family.  What a wonderful heritage – God-fearing, loving, warm, affectionate, humorous!  Only makes me wish we could visit a little more often.

I’ve gotten so comfy over there at Homschoolblogger that this new WordPress format will probably throw me for a loop for a while. For instance, I have no idea how to post photos on here.  But I will!  Never you fear.  I know why my readers come here.  They both love pictures of my kids, so I won’t disappoint.  I love pictures of those sweet little punks, too.  

Now, I’m going for a six hour walk to start working off that Thanksgiving dinner.