Hot Tamales!

Hubby's Mama paid us a nice long visit earlier this month and boy did we ever have fun!  All we did was cook and shop the entire time she was here.  The first day she was here, we made about four dozen flour tortillas.  I never make a batch that big and it seems like we stood in that kitchen for hours!  She never used measuring cups or spoons, just throws it all in a big bowl and somehow it turns out perfectly.  I, on the other hand, have a little recipe card tucked away in a wooden box and follow the instructions line for line and my tortillas never seem to turn out as good as hers.  Her mounds of dough, which she kneads in her hands one by one, are perfectly formed and ready to roll.  When she rolls them out, they all become precise circles of identical sizes, whereas mine are all jagged around the edges and tend to lean more toward the shapes of the states than round like they're meant to be. 

The next day, Hubby had a friend over and she cooked a crock pot of beans, a big pot of rice and made some carne asada with some of the venison we had from his last hunting spree.  The boys filled their plates and feasted!  Later that night, Mama put two big pork roasts to boiling on the stove and for four hours they cooked until the meat was falling off the bone.  We cooled the pot in a sink of cold water and after the meat had cooled enough, she pulled the meat apart with her fingers and set it aside in a big bowl for our cooking tasks the following day.

The next morning around 10:00, we decided to tackle the tamales.  Mama had mailed us her big, huge tamale pot and tortilla press ahead of time, knowing I wouldn't have those in my tiny little kitchen.  We set up a card table and some garden benches in the middle of the kitchen floor and she put the pulled pork to simmer in a skillet with spices.  We soaked the corn husks in a sink of water so they would become soft and pliable, and Mama started on the masa dough.  Again, here she goes with no measuring cups or spoons.  She just dumped the whole bag of masa into a bowl and started adding warm chicken broth and lard until it was the perfect consistency.  She kneaded the dough with her hands and had masa meal up to her elbows!  Once the masa was done, we took the corn husks out of the sink and she plopped a gob of dough into each husk and spread it out evenly with her fingertips.  My job was to fill the husks with meat and roll them up tightly, tucking the end of the husk underneath to form a perfect tamale.  We sat there for hours filling one after another until we had eight and a half dozen tamales all stacked up on trays.  By 2:00 we were ready to put them into the pot.

Our neighbor had loaned us his outdoor turkey fryer and we used the propane burner to cook our tamales out in the backyard.  We managed to squeeze every single tamale into that big pot with barely an inch to spare, and we put it on the burner to steam.  In a couple hours, our backyard smelled heavenly!  We cooked them back there until about dark and then they were done.  Yum!

The next night, after a day of shopping in town, we made chicken enchiladas and had leftover rice and beans and fresh guacamole.  I'd never eaten so much Mexican food in one single week!  I must have gained 10 pounds in the 11 days she was here, but boy was it ever worth it!

The day after I tearfully took her to the airport for her trip back home, I felt like a zombie.  I was exhausted and lonely and didn't know what to do with myself in that quiet house without her.  It was such a whirlwind of activity for the past two weeks and all of a sudden I felt like I'd hit a brick wall.  Her bedroom was all made up as though she'd never been there, and even Tubby was walking room to room wondering where his Nana had gone.  The only sign that she'd been there was the freezer full of tamales, a few tortillas left on the kitchen counter and a heart full of memories we'd shared while she was here.  Thank you Mama, for everything!  We love you and miss you!

Oh no. . . . .

the Starlings are back! I know I should be grateful for all God's creatures, but there are a few I could just as well do without. For starters, snakes and spiders and most everything creepy-crawly. I don't mind fireflies and fuzzy caterpillars, but all the other bugs and slithery creatures give me the eebie jeebies.
As for birds, I'm usually a lover of all things feathered. I have several feeders all throughout my yard and bird houses nailed to posts and hanging in the trees. I love watching my birds, with the exception of Buzzards, loud-mouthed Crows and pesky Starlings!
Did you know a Buzzard's natural defense against predators is to throw up all over them? Totally gross! If you were to stand underneath a tree where a Buzzard was perched and he thought of you as a threat, he would regurgitate his roadkill breakfast all down upon you. Ick. And why in the world do Crows think they have to caw all the time, day or night? Do they really think what they have to say is so important? Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw! If I had a b-b gun, I'd give them something to caw about!
This morning as I stood at the kitchen sink, looking out the window, I noticed a grouping of Starlings were already out at my feeders bothering my other birds. It's a little early for them, but I guess our lack of Winter has brought them out for an early Spring. I watched as about six or seven of them wreaked havoc on my feeders near the Bluebird house. In fact, one of the spotted nuisances actually entered the Bluebird house and started tearing the nest apart. Hopefully there weren't any Bluebirds in residence already. The Starling was grabbing beak fulls of nest and throwing it out of the house. Bratty brat!
As the other Starlings all descended on the bird feeders, scattering seed everywhere with their greediness, my other birds were having a nervous fit. Two Turtle Doves were pacing back and forth anxiously on the wire above the boxes and my favorite Woodpecker was squawking down to them from high up the hack berry tree.
The Starlings are just awful nuisances! They are messy and mean and make the most irritating warbling sound constantly. They get up in the gutters early in the mornings and make the most awful racket, searching for bugs and worms and who knows what else. And there's never just one Starling, they always travel in great big flocks. I wish there was some way to get rid of them!
If anyone has any ideas on how I can rid my yard of these sorry Starlings, please let me know. I have a feeling it's going to be a long and loud Spring!

XOXO

Today is a day of love. Years of memories past and hope for many more to come. Love songs running through my head, one by one, each with a special meaning, tied to a special moment. My heart bursts with love for you, forever and always, My Special Valentine.

Old Man Winter Retires

I think Old Man Winter has given up on us here in Tennessee this year. He's either gone into early retirement, or he's too busy bringing all that snow and Winter weather to all those poor folks in Alaska to worry with us. I for one am sorry to see that he's apparently looked us over. Here we are at the first of February already and we've only had two single days of snow. Those two days shouldn't really count because if you'd have blinked, you'd have missed the snow anyway! He barely gave us a dusting and it was gone in mere hours.

This morning on my way into work, I spotted clumps of daffodils already peeking their golden heads out in neighboring yards. I saw all the Canadian honkers on Tim McGraw's pond were already back too, which means we'll probably see some downy-headed goslings earlier than usual this year. My pansies are still blooming in my pots on the porch and haven't stopped since last Summer! I've never held onto them that long into another season. Our grass is still green and my donkeys haven't grown nearly as furry coats as they have in Winter's past. With all this warm rain we've been having, I wouldn't be surprised to see the early frogs and turtles playing in the mud puddles on the sides of the roads!

It's just not right! We should be having frost sparkling on the grass in the mornings and icicles hanging from the eaves. I want snow carpeting my yard and capping all the fence posts. Our dog Tubby just loves rolling around and dragging his belly across the snow. He'd stay out there and play for hours if we'd let him, but this year all we've had is one brief day with enough snow for him to get excited about, and later that same day it was all melted away.

Come on Old Man Winter! Please grace us with your arctic presence and bless us with some snowy white wonder. Puff up those billowy cheeks of yours and blow some glacial winds our way! Turn this rain into big, fluffy, magical snowflakes falling down all around us so we can put on our warm coats, hats and fuzzy scarves and gloves and enjoy all that Winter is supposed to be!

Happy Birthday Pretty Girl!

This past weekend, Hubby and I attended a surprise birthday party for a special lady's 80th birthday. Both sets of our own Grandma's have passed on, so a few years ago, we adopted this sweet lady near our home, as our very own Tennessee Grandma. Her name is Everna, but we call her Gran-E (Granny) and just love her to pieces. Sid spoils her like crazy and teases her mercilessly whenever he sees her. She's feisty and teases him right back. She's always got a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye and you always get at least a half dozen hugs every time we see her.

Granny has four sons and a daughter, who threw the lavish party for her. The party was held uptown in a building that was once an old grade school, but now is our community's rec center. It's also the place where Granny works part-time and where we first met her. Her children had the hall decked out when we arrived. There was a banquet hall filled with beautifully decorated tables. There was a huge table at the entry that was overflowing with gifts and next to the table stood a life-size cardboard cutout of Granny in her younger years that everyone was able to sign. They had a table filled with wonderful foods and desserts and another table with a grand, multi-tiered cake with fondant icing and chocolate covered strawberries draped on each layer. It was so pretty! There was a television set up in the back that played a DVD they had made of photos from when Granny was a young girl growing up, and all through the years with her siblings, then her husband, children and ultimately their children too. So many beautiful photos and in every one you could always pick out Granny from her beautiful smile. There were hundreds of happy photos and in all of them you could see what a full and wonderfully happy life of love Granny has led.

Granny's beautiful granddaughter Tara, who is the spitting image of Granny, by the way, was supposedly taking Granny to the Grand Ole Opry for a special treat, so Granny got all dressed up and was on her way when Tara asked if they could please stop off at the rec center so she could use the restroom real quick. Of course when they arrived, we were all waiting quietly in the darkened banquet hall and when they stepped in the door, we flipped on the lights and everyone yelled "Surprise!" You should have seen the look of shock on Granny's sweet face! It was priceless. She just kept looking all around at all the people and waving her arms. We all clapped and hollered and sang Happy Birthday as she went through the room and hugged every single person there. It was so cute. Once all the hugging was done, dinner was served and the Birthday girl was seated in her place of honor at the family table and donned with a sparkly tiara and a pink feather boa. She looked beautiful and was the well-deserved center of attention!

After dinner, Granny's one and only daughter, Linda, took Granny by the hand and led her out of the banquet hall and asked that everyone please follow them into the gymnasium. The gym was all set up with rows and rows of chairs and the stage was set for a concert of Bluegrass, which is Granny's favorite. Our own little Grand Ole Opry in Leiper's Fork! The family had hired a couple of bluegrass singers from Georgia by the name of The Buzzard Mountain Boys and they were fantastic! They played guitar, fiddle, banjo and mandolin and sang all kinds of funny, sweet, sad and sometimes familiar songs. In between songs, they told jokes and funny stories and kept us all laughing. Granny sat in the front row and was tapping her toes and dancing in her seat the whole time. During one song, one of her great-granddaughters, who couldn't have been more than five or six years old, asked Granny to dance, so the two of them took to the dance floor and held hands, dancing a little jig. It was so adorable. Both of them were grinning ear to ear.

When it came time to cut the cake, the family posed for more pictures. What a beautiful family they made as all four handsome sons and the one beautiful daughter surrounded a beaming Granny. Then once the bulbs stopped flashing and we all thought they were done, Linda calls out for another photo but they were missing one of the sons. I was confused at first, because I saw that all four sons were standing there, but Linda kept saying they were missing a son and pretty soon she called Sid up to the table. He was the fifth son! Sid was so touched by them honoring him as Granny's fifth son and he posed next to her and hugged her to him and whispered in her ear. What a memorable honor for him.

The cake was cut and served and oh was it ever yummy! More music with the Buzzard Mountain Boys followed cake and the party went on and on. I know Granny was just tickled pink with all the love that surrounded her that special night. It was the most beautiful party and we were so lucky to have been invited to share the memories. We love you Gran-E!

More Hay? No Way!

As much as I try to convince myself I've become quite the farm girl, living out in the boonies with three donkeys in a pasture does not a full-fledged farm girl make! I came to this conclusion while Hubby's been out of town on a job and I was left home alone to care for the brood all by myself.

Right before he left town he reminded me I needed to get some hay out for the donkeys. It's getting really cold out now and they've already polished off the big round bale Sid gave them less than two weeks ago. They eat like pigs, fattening themselves up for the Winter. I hurried home from work so I could get the hay out of the back barn before it got too dark. They'd have to settle for square bales because this girl CANNOT drive the tractor to haul a big round bale. Sid does all the tractor driving around here, not me! I can barely climb up on the darn thing. The tires are twice as tall as I am!

By the time I got home and let Tubs out to do his business, it was already starting to get dark. I jumped in the jeep and headed back to the barn, praying I'd make it up the hill and not get stuck. I don't know how to work the four-wheel-drive and I'm not used to driving a stick anymore after all this time driving my SUV. I pulled up to the barn and parked right out front so I could just toss the bales from the hayloft down to the jeep. Those bales weigh more than a baby walrus and I didn't want to have to haul them any farther than I had to. Lifting them up into the jeep was going to be hard enough.

I climbed out of the jeep and it dawned on me that not only had I forgot to bring some gloves, I also forgot to change out of my good clothes and shoes, let alone remember to bring a flashlight. The electricity to the barn has never worked right and some barn swallows built a nest around the light fixture closest to the lower entry door, so it doesn't work when you pull the string. So, in the semi-dark I started up the steps to the loft. No handrails to hold onto so I took it slow. The hayloft was even darker than downstairs, and as I took that last step up, I heard something rustling in the hay to my left and almost fell back down the steps! I could barely make out the shapes of the bales of hay in the corner, so I don't know what it was scurrying around up there, but I hurried to fling the loft doors open in hopes of letting in some light. As soon as I got them open, something flew out right over my head and nearly scared me half to death. I'm sure it must have been a big, hairy, rabid vampire bat with long pointy teeth, but more than likely it was just a cardinal or some other silly bird. Lord, help me hurry up and get the heck out of this barn in one piece!

With a little more light shining in, I was able to grab some bales and heave them out the loft doors to the jeep below. Luckily, all four bales stayed in tact and none of the strings popped off. I slammed the loft doors and pulled the latch and in record time I was back down those stairs and out of that creepy barn. Now to try and load these heavy bales. I will never again take for granted my helpful and manly husband! By the time I got all four bales crammed into the back of the jeep, my beautiful new winter dress coat was covered in hay and I had just as much hanging in my hair!

Back down the hill I drove and once I got to the gate, there were all three of my furry-faced donkeys in the corner of the fence waiting for me to unload the bounty. I closed the gate so our neighbor's horse couldn't get out. Heaven knows I don't need to be chasing after a runaway horse on top of all this! I drove the jeep down the fence line and all three donkeys ran alongside me bucking and kicking and hee-hawing all the way. They had their heads hanging over the fence, craning their necks toward the hay as soon as I stopped the jeep. Out with the bales and up over the fence, which just about gave me a hernia. Then I had to go into the shop for a knife to cut the strings, but when I got there, my knife wasn't in it's normal spot and I couldn't find it anywhere. I found a metal paint scraper that looked sharp enough to cut through the strings, so back outside I went.

Now its definitely dark as pitch and I can barely see my hand in front of my face. I opened the gate and all three donkeys instantly appeared in front of me like I was going to fill their grain buckets or something. I had to shoo them off just to swing the gate open. Sheesh. Usually, I'm not allowed into the donkey pasture alone unless Sid is home. Donkeys are unpredictable. They may love and adore me, but that doesn't mean they won't bite or tromple me to death trying to express that love!

It's a little unnerving walking through a dark pasture with three donkeys following so close behind you that you can feel their breath on the back of your neck. I had to pick up a stick to swing behind me to keep them at a safe distance. Finally, I got to the bales, cut and pulled the strings and scattered out the hay so they could eat. As soon as the last of the hay was scattered, all three piglets were munching away, so I made my way back across the barnyard only to step in a big pile of donkey muck.

It all happened so fast. One second I'm in my shoes and the next second I'm not. I lost my balance and pitched forward, landing on all fours. Umpf! Muck on my knees and hands and my shoes stuck behind me. I can only hope and pray its dark enough out here that none of my neighbors can see me in this most humiliating position! I was tempted to just roll over onto my back and lay there and cry, but I got myself up, pulled my shoes out of the poo and made my way back to the house. If ever I needed a bubble bath and a box of chocolates, it was now! And to top it all off, I broke a nail. Drat!

So, no, this prissified girlie-girl isn't quite ready to fully embrace farm life just yet. I'd really like to leave all the messy, difficult tasks to my big, strong Hubby instead. And to think I asked Santa for chickens and pigs this Christmas! Lord have mercy! I can only imagine the trouble I'd get myself into trying to take care of them!

Aches and Pains Before My Time

Getting old is for the birds! I've just had another birthday and while I believe myself to still be young, I sure don't feel it lately. My bones are aching and I just don't have the get-up-and-go that I always had before. I was reading an article about arthritis the other day (someone my age shouldn't even be THINKING about arthritis, let alone reading about it!) and was disheartened to read that people that suffered broken bones earlier in their lifetime, are more susceptible to get arthritis in and around those same areas later in their lives. Good heavens, I'm doomed! Do you know how many times I've broken bones in my body? Let's see if I can recall the most memorable. . .

There was that time when my sister and I were jumping like monkeys on our beds. I was laying on the floor and she was jumping on her bed and all I can remember with clarity is the evil gleam in her eye as she jumped right off the bed and onto my outstretched arm. It broke like a twig with a loud CRACK! and instantly swelled up to the size of a goose egg. Talk about ouch! To this day, I believe she did it on purpose, but I'm sure it was warranted. We were hellions to each other growing up, but that's another story. . .

And then there was the time when Mom took us girls to the park for the day. We took our bikes and rode them all around the park. Some older boys had climbed this gigantic, grassy hill with their bikes and were riding them down the hill like rockets shooting out of a cannon. Boy did it ever look like fun. I decided to take my purple bike with the sparkly banana seat and streamers on the handlebars, up the hill too. I remember thinking once I got up there, it sure looked like a long way down. I could see my Mom and sister at the bottom of the hill. Mom was waving her arms and begging me not to do what I was about to do. But, I had people to impress, so off I went. That hill was way steeper than I had anticipated and I got to going so fast that I couldn't even keep my feet on the pedals. The bike started wobbling like crazy over the bumpy grass and all I could see were trees all around that I hoped I could steer clear of. About halfway down and completely out of control, the bumpiness of the ride somehow loosened the screws holding my bike together and my handle bars completely popped right off! Oh boy! CRASH BANG BOOM and broken arm number two. I gave old Evel Knievel a run for his money though.

Then there was the time I broke my leg walking UP the stairs. Actually, I was running up them, but regardless, I felt pretty silly breaking my leg on the way up instead of on the way down like normal klutzy people would have. Hubby and I were getting ready for a weekend at the beach and I was so excited to be going that I just got too far ahead of myself and when I was running back inside for my bag, I fell and broke my leg. So much for the trip to the beach. I had a nice, pretty bright-pink cast on my leg for the next few months though, and had to learn to walk on crutches. A comedy in itself.

Oh and who could ever forget my broken leg when we first moved to Tennessee! I was driving to work one day and my brakes went out on my car. I was coming up on an intersection that was blocked off with construction workers standing in the middle of the road waving their flags, so the only choice I had to avoid running over the poor workers was to crank the wheel as far to the right as I could, flying into oncoming traffic and KAWHAM crashing head-on with a kazillion ton dump truck with a load full of gravel. You know how they say your whole life flashes before your eyes? Well, that's pretty much true. I just remember praying out loud and then bashing up into the windshield. Broke my leg in two places on the steering column and had to have surgery to have titanium pins put in it. Totalled the poor little car. Ugh. It's that particular leg that is giving me fits lately, with what I think must be arthritis. Some days I feel old as Methuselah limping around the house and my knee pops and creaks. And walking up the stairs every day for work just about does me in. Ugh again. . .

So, like I said, getting old is for the birds! I want to be youthful and pain free! No more birthdays for me from here on out. Instead of getting older, I'm going to go backwards and get young again! And Mr. Arthur Itis can just hit the road! He's no friend of mine!