Blue Yonder

Moving On

Every year, after Christmas, I start to get all twitchy ... anxious to get rid of the clutter and disarray, to clean and organize everything that isn't nailed down. 

Once the tree comes down and the ornaments are packed away, I feel this overwhelming drive to wipe the slate clean. I want drawers, cabinets, closets, shelves, under the beds, behind the washing machine... all of it, every inch, clean and in order. It lasts all of five minutes, this cleanliness, but I just can't see starting a new year without at least attempting to get off on the right foot, you know? I need an organized pantry and a bowl full of black eyed peas in order to take on the next 365 days. 

This year, my cleaning and straightening is stretching all the way into my bloggy home. For lots of very good reasons that I won't belabor because they would bore you all to tears, the time has come for me to move my little space down the road a bit. From here on out, I'll be setting up bloggy housekeeping over at the Ranch. I really hope that you'll join me. 

This space has been such an immense blessing to me over the last two years. It has given me the chance to stand back some, get a little perspective on things. It's done so much to put me in the habit of noticing and treasuring up the most beautiful, ordinary bits of this crazy mama life. And, in so many ways, that is because of you. 

Raising little ones and homeschooling can sometimes be awfully isolating. No matter how hard I try to keep things simple and slow, life just slips past me like a freight train, and before I know it I haven't talked to anyone to whom I am not related by blood or marriage in days and days. Having you all here to swap stories and recipes with, to learn from and laugh with, well it just means so much. I can't imagine why y'all put up with me sometimes, but I'm so grateful that you do. Truly. 

So, I know it's a big pain and all, but I hope that you'll change your feed readers, bookmark us, put up a sticky note, whatever it is that you do, so that you'll remember to come and join us over at the Ranch. It just wouldn't be home without you!

As with any move, it will take us a while to get things in their rightful places and settle into our new home, so please bear with us. 

I hope to see you there!

Rocking Around the Christmas Tree

Yeah. Christmas pretty much rocked. 

It was low key, low stress and high on comfort and joy. For the first time in a long time I'm feeling like Christmas was neither too hard nor too soft. Not too hot, not too cold, it was just right. 

We're still meandering about, lazing, listening to the rain and enjoying the afterglow. The tree is still up, but we haven't turned on the lights since Christmas. 

The mantle is cleared of it's wreath and is now home to the most lovely mantle clock from my folks. I always wanted one of those. 

It bongs on the hour and the half hour and it makes me feel all fancy inside every single time I hear it. Even the kids stop to listen, count the bongs, and smile. For the first time ever, I polished the exactly FOUR pieces of silver(plate) tableware that I own because I felt like a house that has a bonging clock should have polished silver too. 

A house that has a bonging clock should probably NOT have laundry on the couch and dishes in the sink but I haven't been moved to do anything about those just yet. 

Instead I've been laying up on the couch reading and listening to the hours go by. (I'm reading The Help. It's really really good!)

Lest you think that this sounds all serene and peaceful like, I should tell you a couple of things... 

First, my middle dude has been taking guitar lessons for two years now and has been hoping, saving, dreaming, praying for an electric guitar since he was... oh about two. For real. 

He totally didn't see it coming. Wasn't even considering it. 

Suffice it to say that he about came clean out of his skin with joy. I love it when that happens. And now we are being treated to the Jimi Hendrix version of Away in a Manger and When the Saints Go Marching In on the hour and half hour too. 

It's good. But it's loud. It's real. REAL loud. 

Joy should be loud. Right? Right. Rock on.

Second, our family was also gifted with a record player and a box of my old records. My kids didn't even know what it was. "Is it like a CD player?"

They are now, much to my delight, crazy in love with vinyl, and I am having the best time watching them make up silly dance routines to the very same songs that I bee bopped to in front of my mirror as a child. Prince, Madonna (when she was cool), Tina Turner, Three Dog Night, Bruce Springsteen, Chipmunk Rock, Van Halen, Cher, the Eurythmics, Sting, Tears for Fears, even a stack of Peter Pan records with their accompanying story books... they love them all. They love the crackly sound and moving the needle over. They love changing the speed and listening to the silly results. They love it and I do too. I have a feeling that there's going to be a run on records at the local Goodwills. 

So our house is happy and loud and messy and full of song... which is precisely what a house full of boys should be I suppose, every hour, on the hour and all the minutes in between.

Merry Christmas To All!

Well, here we are, at last! It is Christmas Eve, and thank goodness because I don't think I can hold in all the secrets and merry making any longer!

We have cooked... oh how we've cooked. We made the raspberry bars and the cranberry cookies, the crab triangles and the sausage balls. At this moment the dip is in the crock,  the beans are boiling, the rolls are rising and the mashed potatoes are next on the list. There is ONE remaining fruit cake and the chocolate pie will don her merengue tonight. 

I am so happy to say too, that after all these years, we have tamales gracing our Christmas table. We always had them growing up, but I never learned to make them. My sweet friend Maria, did us the amazing honor of spending a day teaching my mom and I the art of authentic Mexican tamale making. They are heavenly all on their own, but even more so because they represent one more piece of my history, resurrected and passed on to my little boys. 

The presents have been bought, crafted and wrapped. My little elves have outdone themselves this year. I can't wait to share with you, after it's all said and done, the neat things that they created for their loved ones. 

The second annual Christmas Eve Eve concert was held last night, and was a roaring success. James played When the Saints Go Marching In, Away in a Manger and Jingle Bells on guitar. Ryder did a bit of Away in the Manger on piano and then added in a little composition of his own creation. Luke brought the house down with Rudolph, Deck the Halls and Silver Bells on fiddle. 

And so the songs have been sung, the candles have been lit, the stories have been read, and now.... 

Now it's all over but the partying!  (Let's play "Where's Jasper, shall we? Do you see him?)

We wish you all a warm and wonderful Christmas full of every good thing! 

Judge Not, Lest Ye Taste

A couple of weeks ago, my oldest boy said something to the affect of, "Hey mom, why would anyone give fruit cake as a present when EVERYONE knows that it's disgusting?"

A teachable moment if ever there was one.

I have wonderful memories of receiving a great big brown box in the mail each Christmas from on old family friend.  It was always stuffed full with little newspaper comic-wrapped packages for each member of the family and one perfect little foil covered homemade fruit cake. I don't remember a single gift that I ever received from those boxes, but I DO remember, oh so fondly, the fruit cake. I remember sneaking into the fridge to peel back that foil for just one more scrumptious bite. I remember trying to divide the last wee bit into infinitely smaller and smaller pieces to make it last as long as possible. 

It was, hands down, one of my all time favorite holiday treats. 

It is a crying shame really, a travesty, that fruit cake has gotten such a bad reputation when it really is so truly delectable. 

So, I spoke with my mom, we dug up the recipe, and we spent a day in the kitchen. 

54 eggs whites, 2 pounds of butter, 24 cups of fruits, nuts and coconut, and a mile high mound of dishes later,... and we are now prepared to change the way the world (or at least our friends and neighbors) think about fruit cake. 

Yes we can!

And what does the boy now say about fruit cake? 

One taste and he declared, "Oh my gosh, we should make these every year!"

Mission accomplished. 

 So, friends, if you have never had a truly delicious fruit cake, or if you remember them from long ago and agree that the world should come to know and love this tasty little treat, then you must, you simply must, make some up  and help us to spread the good news... fruit cake is delicious, and so worthy of its rightful place at the holiday table!

Here's what to do: 

2 cups sugar

1 cup butter (softened to room temp.)

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup milk

3 1/4 cups sifted flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

8 egg whites beaten to soft peaks

1 cup candied cherries (chopped)

1 cup candied pineapple (chopped) *

2 cups nuts (we use pecans... of course)

2 cups sweetened coconut

Preheat the oven to 250. Cream together the butter and sugar and vanilla. In a separate bowl combine the flour, salt and baking powder. Add the flour and the milk alternately to the butter/sugar mixture. Fold in the eggs. Add the nuts, coconut and fruits. 

Poor into greased loaf pans (fill them just over half full) and bake at 250 for an hour and a half to two hours. They will get just ever so slightly golden around the edges, but should not brown. You will know they are done when you can press your finger lightly into the cakes near the edge and they pull back from the pan. 

Allow them to cool completely before wrapping them in foil. 

Now here's the hard part. Let them sit for a day, or even two or three, in the fridge, before eating. They're best cold and well rested :-)

Each recipe makes four large (or about 7 small) loaves.

* you can substitute the 1 cup of cherries and 1 cup of pineapple for 2 cups of "fruit cake mix" dried fruit

The Holly and the Ivy (or The Cedar and the Yaupon)

Every year we make the trek to the local big box lawn and garden center and pick out our Christmas tree. The boys love this, and I will admit that it does feel rather festive to sort through (and sniff!) them all and pick just the right one. It's fun to wait in line at the check out with bouncing, excited little boys, so proud of their choice. It's giggly goodness to watch papa struggle with tying it to the top of the car and to drive home feeling like a banner waves over us declaring, "It is officially Christmastime!"

... but.... it always makes me a little sad that we don't cut our own tree. There's something right and true about going into the woods as family, leaves crunching underfoot, each of you taking your turn at the saw. It feels real, honest... not at all like the consumerist, cookie cutter feeling I get from buying a tree at a store. 

Yes, there IS a tree farm about an hour and a half's drive from home and every year I think we'll make the trip, but we never seem to gather up the will to take that drive. I'm not sure why. I guess deep down I don't really want to visit a farm either (though we have once, and it really was lovely.) It's better than a store, for sure, but still, it isn't the same as receiving the gift of your family's tree straight from the hands of nature. I have ridiculously romantic (in other words, very unrealistic) notions of what it would be like to wander the wintry woods in search of the perfect centerpiece for our holiday festivities. 

But we don't live in a pine forest. 

We don't live anywhere near a pine forest. 

So, when I read Sarah's sweet memories of her mother's wreath-making, I knew what we had to do. 

We loaded up our clippers, buckets and bags and we walked into the wild. 

It was colder out than we thought it would be. Our 70 degree weekend highs have vanished. 

But it was good. There's nothing like that feeling...  chilly air burning your lungs, rubbing reddened hands together for warmth, running until you're hot, then shedding your coat only to want it back just as soon as the wind blows.

And best of all, silence....  no one else around. No one talking too loudly on her cell phone to her BFF about what shoes to wear to the party, no creepy guy invading your personal space in the check out line, no overtired child shrieking his disapproval to his completely oblivious parents as they debate the merits of the inflatable reindeer vs. the giant musical snowglobe. 

I love shopping. Can you tell? 

Anyhow, back to the woods.... 

   

We don't have pine trees where we live, it's true, but we DO have cedar and yaupon (plus a few leftover clippings from the Christmas tree). 

And now we have a wreath. 

There were a lot of hands (and a whole lotta florist wire) involved in the making of that wreath. There was talk of the symbolism of circles and evergreen. There was cocoa to warm us and laughter over the silly lopsided shape of our creation. We had a good time gathering and making together. 

So, I hope that as imperfect as our little wreath is, it will serve as a reminder this holiday season of the perfect gift of family, and this beautiful world in which we live (crazy shoppers and all). I hope too that a new tradition has found it's way into our celebrations. 

A merry day to you all!