December 1st: Christmas Countdown

I've never been much of a Black Friday enthusiast.  Something about the traffic, lines, pressure, and aisle rage just doesn't appeal to me.  Until this year I didn't even know Small-Business Saturday or Cyber Monday existed.  When did they arrive on the scene?!?  It makes we wonder if names will be given to all the days after Thanksgiving -- Get It Before It's Gone 5th, Cuttin' It Close 20th, Last Ditch Effort 23rd.  Or worse...Forget-Giving-Thanks-Just-Shop Fourth Thursday of November.  Ugh, I sure hope not.  Call me a traditionalist, but I happen to think Thanksgiving should be digested before Christmas makes it on the scene.  I have a sister who's adamant (in her gentle way) that no Christmas music, decorations, or movies make an appearance until after Thanksgiving is properly acknowledged and celebrated with feasting, family, and actual Thanks-Giving.  Novel concept.  She doesn't have to convince me, I'm already game.  If I ruled the world, the only exception I'd make would be for craft-type stores who supply us homemade gift-givers with fuel for the fire.  I get hyped thinking about gifts for people throughout the entire year.  Ultimately, my husband and I decide together who gets what, but we always settle on some homemade, some experiences, some serendipitous finds at random places, and a few that were actually asked for. This year we came up with a dozen or so homemade ideas. One might think that these would be completed early on to get a jump on things...but nah, it's December 1st and I've got five yet to start!  If you're anything like me, you're counting down the days til Christmas, managing the calendar like a game of Tetris, clanging the pots and pans with a bit of Yuletide prep, and whirring at the craft table (amid all the other normal responsibilities of life). Before we arrive at Cuttin' It Close 20th, I thought I'd share one of my homemade gifts for little girls this season as a help to anyone else out there who's searching for the perfect thing.  It's A Cutesy Fleece Poncho.  So adorable -- I wish I had little models to wear them in the photos, but alas...that'd ruin the surprise!  

What's left of my Living Room...

Annie Get Your Gun

I'm not sure if it's a kid thing or I was just an odd child (perhaps both?), but I used to take the same books out of my elementary school library over and over and over again.  Granted I had a few dozen in the rotation, but for whatever reason stacks of gem and rock books, Native American and Ancient History books, and biographies always made it home with me...even if I'd read them and studied the illustrations countless times before.  Annie Oakley's dusty rose-covered life story was one of these favorites.  The black and white sketches would come to life for me as I envisioned her little 5-foot frame wielding a cumbersome firearm with deadly accuracy.  Gosh, was she cool!  In my neck of the northern woods I didn't know anybody but the police who owned a gun and I was in high school before I had an acquaintance who had been hunting.  Now that I'm living in the rural south I'm almost embarrassed to admit it!  These days I'm not exactly a pistol packin' mama, but I see the merit in getting cozy with some gun powder and lead.

Thankful: To "B" or Not To Be

There are two sides to every coin.  Good day, bad day.  Good season, bad season.  Good year, bad year.  I've found that life usually falls somewhere in between with a strong leaning to the good if we're willing to see it that way.  But we always have a choice...

The Skinny on Fat

Growing up we had a large pantry in the kitchen.  It wasn't a walk-in, but it was very deep and had lots of cubbies and shelves. The main level was knee high and when the shelves on it were rolled to one side I had the perfect nook in which to sit, hide, or snack -- and sometimes all of the above.  I remember one such occasion when I spied a large cylindrical tub with a blue label and a delicious-looking piece of yellow cake with white frosting on the front.  In childish wonder I pried open the plastic top to reveal the treasure within.  Frosting!  In plunged my pointer finger and out it curled with a delectable glob that headed toward my tongue without hesitation.  DISGUSTING!  Many of you probably realized a few sentences ago that this treasure chest would not contain frosting and was in fact a tub of vegetable shortening.  I repeat...Disgusting! This is my first memory involving the wonderful world of fats.  Jump to last Thursday morning in which I began the process of rendering lard -- yup, the forbidden fat of yesteryear.  I've got a simple step-by-step photo-filled guide posted below.  But first, I'd like to take a walk down a rather fatty memory lane to explore both how fats have fallen out of favor with the masses and why the right kinds of fats are actually a life-giving nutritional necessity.

A Pig's Tale

If goats make mischief, sheep induce serenity (and relieve the insomniac), and the hen house is full of clucking female banter, then the barnyard attribute I assign to the pig is pleasure.  When the acorns litter the ground, the leaves are aflame in a golden blaze, and the air is crisp and dry, there's no place like our wooded pig pastures for passing time and taking it easy.  I mean that for me as much as our herd.  I like to think it's the pigs' favorite time of year, too.  It's cool enough for them to stay comfortable and some of their favorite treats, nuts & acorns, are literally raining down on them.  On our farm, fall is the time for the pigs to shine!  I'm sure the fact that apples, sweet potatoes, and the bulk of autumnal fare often look to pork as a culinary foundation plays a part in my connection.  But for now, I'm talking less about the end product and more about the personality and "pig-ness" of a pig. I realize that the majority of American society would have a plethora of connotations for these fine swine that might include dirty, stinky, gross, and the like (I was in that camp a mere five years ago), but our pigs generate more smiles, chuckles, and good clean fun than any other species on our farm.  Whether giving a snort with each footfall, a barking run (yes, I mean bark like a dog), the smacking of chops that accompanies any morsel, a satisfying slump in which the belly paunch rests nimbly on the ground, or a nuzzle to be near any other companion, pigs are hilarious!  It seems to me that they have an acute propensity to enjoy their present activity...whatever it may be.  I can't help but watch them and find myself smirking or wanting to give a running commentary of their actions.  "Uh, hey guys. Whacha got there? Oh cool...what a weird root! Lemme see. Come on, Lemme see!"  Slumping to the ground. "Ok, fine. I'll just, uh, chill here til you're..." Jumping up with a jerk, Run, bark. Run, bark. Run, bark. "Uh, hey gals. Whacha got there? Mmmm...that looks good.  Scooch over so I can fit." Mash, squish, slump. "Awesome."


Pure Satisfaction

Testing My Limits

A few years ago I cut back on my daily ritual of putting on deodorant.  Shock of all shocks!  Horror of all horrors!  I know.  I don't enjoy the stench of B.O. any more than the next person, but there's quite a bit of discussion linking aluminum in antiperspirant-deodorants with some serious health concerns. Charged by this query, I thought it through and decided to attempt the unthinkable. Could I achieve this feat without being an affront to society's nostrils?  Let me back up and state that I've leaned more toward the glam side of femininity than the grunge, so this trial was a major step. Also for the record, within fifteen minutes of getting dressed every morning in high school I'd have embarrassing sweat circles in my armpits. (Can we say stressed?!?) Over the years I curbed my stress and the sweating, but I'll reiterate...this no-deodorant gig was a major step for me. Long story short, my body now self-regulates with nothing but bathing, healthy eating, and an occasional dab of natural, herbal deodorant. (Not that I didn't have a few stinky days initially while figuring all this out.) Voila! I'm not running anyone off with my stench and I've kicked a chemical-product habit. While I'm sure a post about my hygiene would spike my blog's readership overnight (or make a few spouses don clothespins on their noses and glare angrily in my direction), I'll burst your bubble and admit that this post is about testing my limits, not my underarms.

A Studly Spud

Inspired by two recent rendezvous with a loaded baked potato, I was craving to create my own delectable version last week.  Critics are raving!  Okay, okay, so the critics may be my husband and me, but still...this easy meatless meal was not only scrumptious, but healthful, filling, and the perfect dish for a crisp autumn day.  In my home we're getting better at conscientiously consuming starches and carbohydrates -- I'm Italian and married to an Irish man! -- however, I feel that because white potatoes are a natural tuber and nutrient rich, they should be thoroughly enjoyed, though irregularly on the menu.