We didn't charter a plane to Wyoming, and we didn't drive. Either of those would have been my choice over flying commercial, but I couldn't justify the price of the charter, and couldn't talk my dearly beloved into hopping in the car for a 1700 mile jaunt. So, to the airport we went. Oxygen shock in Denver was pretty brutal; you just don't think about the differential in the oxygen content in the air between our elevation, around 800 feet, and Denver, the Mile High City. My poor husband was positively grey as he puffed through the airport, and I wasn't doing all that well - this despite the fact that I had taken up walking about a mile every day for 3 months beforehand. The little guys, of course, were hopping around like it was just any old Thursday. They were amazed at the working oil wells (and my 8 year old wanted to know if we would see any "gushers") and natural gas wells. There is a lot of sky out there, and the grass is not the same color as we see here. Much less water, and spring isn't really there yet. The marvelous car rental agency did not have the Town Car I had specifically requested, and I had to sort this out with a guy to whom English was assuredly not a first language. ("What part of 'I do not want a truck' do you fail to understand?"). Then, when I hit the snowstorm on I-80, I was almost sorry I hadn't gotten the truck.
Laramie must be about 4-1/2 miles long. I drove down Grand Avenue, the main east-west road. At 45th street, there's just a berm and this lovely view of ranchland. The University is nice enough, but I felt rather claustrophobic there. The buildings are very close together, and you can only drive around the 4 sides of the campus, from a practical standpoint. Given what I found at 45th Street, I really don't understand why the state doesn't add to the size of the campus, but, hey, they didn't ask me for my opinion. I did chuckle at the Library Bar. Their sign said, "Mom and Dad! This is where your kid has been when he said he was at the Library!"
We stopped at the smallest town in the country, Buford, Wyoming. No
tice the population; I went into their gas station/trading post and counted exactly one soul. Notice also the snow embedded in the fence post beside the boys. This photo was taken Saturday, on my way back across I-80 to Cheyenne, and it was snowing again! Foolish me, I thought May was spring. Obviously, I didn't wear the pink sundress I'd chosen for my daughter's graduation; in fact, I took a long leather coat I'd bought her and she had never worn ("Blondes can't wear tan, Mooooothhhherrrrr!").
And the little boys got to see dinosaur skeletons. Lots of dino skeletons. And wha
t little boy doesn't love dinos? And aside f
rom the fact that the airline gave me a hard time about getting on the plane (yes - I do so look like a troublemaker), taking the redeye back from Denver to Philly on Saturday night was brilliant. Even though we live 125 miles away, the flight was over $250 per person cheaper by returning to Philly in the middle of the night, and that more than paid the $420 for the limo to bring us home. We all slept, stretched out on the lovely leather stretch limo seats, and someone else did the driving, and I still saved $600 over flying in and out of my home airport. If I had flown both ways out of Philadelphia, it would have cost more, factoring in the cost of gas. Sometimes, all the stars align just right, don't they?
Thursday afternoon, we flew to Denver; our first daughter (4th child) was graduating from the University of Wyoming. She did this in only 3 years, which is remarkable enough that the Dean of the College of Business knows her by name; he's even told her that the only person younger than she to ever graduate did so about 50 years ago. The weather sucked, at least from my perspective. 31 degrees with snow and a nasty wind does not a happy event make. They made light of this in the graduation ceremony; one of the speakers commented that he was glad it had snowed that morning, because it would have been the first graduation in 7 years without snow. For myself, I'd have made the sacrifice of tradition. This is my beautiful daughter in the processional:
Walking across the stage to get her diploma:
And with her empty diploma folder; they will mail her diploma in 4 to 6 weeks!
And with her happy little brothers, one of whom is wearing a hat she bought him
:And with her proud but oxygen deprived Daddy:
And with her proud Mom (who was not looking her very best that day)
Next year, she's headed to law school. She's choosing between 2 law schools, both of which have offered her substantial scholarships. Her brothers think it'll be great to have a lawyer in the family.
Up next: photos of Wyoming in general. Then a tour of the sculpture we saw there (in keeping with our Calvert School Art History course). And, finally, a visit to the Terry Bison Ranch. Stay tuned for our next installment!
My second son picked me up these flowers on his way home from college yesterday, and they were waiting here when I got home at 7:30 this morning. Redeye flights are no fun, and I slept until 2 this afternoon, trying to recover from a whirlwind trip to the Rockies. I will write more tomorrow, and pictures of buffalo will follow some time this week; but it's time to cook only about the third real meal I've had since Wednesday (Doritos probably don't qualify as a well balanced diet for Friday, do they?). Earlier, I made sunny side up eggs with (gasp!) store bought toast, and at least my dearly beloved and I are pretty sure we're humanoid once again.
Happy mother's day to all of you who celebrate!
Last weekend, the kids went to the local Agway for a couple of 50 pound bags of dog food (each lasts 3 to 4 weeks). One of their rituals is to pick up a package of a dozen homemade chocolate chip cookies, which are sold there for about $4. So, they brought the dog food and cookies home, and each of the three shoppers took their four cookies. Kellie and Ryan ate theirs pronto, but Mark, being a slow and picky eater, ate 2 and saved 2 for "later". Later, while he was eating them, he told me I should bake cookies for Agway to sell; I essentially said "no dice". He then questioned me and determined that Agway probably pays the baker about $2 per dozen. He thought for a while, and then informed me that I needed to teach him to make cookies, so he could sell Agway 5 dozen per day and earn $10. His Dad then asked him, "Well, what about the cost of materials?" Mark thought again, and then informed him that since the sisters can make about 150 on a Saturday with the materials I have in the house, he'll be fine for the first week, and then he can just buy materials and ingredients for the second week with his $70. I found it very amusing. I am proud of the little guy's thinking.
"I promise to love, honor and cherish, and go out to dinner every Friday and Saturday night, for as long as we both shall live." Or, at least, that's how I remember our vows.
When we lived in Knoxville, there was a great rib place in an old, converted barn, right in the middle of all of "the stuff of civilization". While I love a great plate of ribs, I don't like the mess when I'm out, and I don't like all the tooth work involved. Not that the meat is tough, I just don't like chewing it off the bone. One of their great dishes was "Pulled Pork". It literally was the meat pulled off the ribs, then doused in a great barbecue sauce. Served with steak fries, it was a manly dish adapted to the more delicate needs of a mess-averse girly-girl.
Since 1994, when we spent an entire summer on the road for business (literally - we left Memorial Day weekend, and returned on Labor Day, so the kids could start school th next day), my dearly beloved has refused to follow the "out to dinner" part of his vows unless we were out of town - and not happily then! So, Friday and Saturday dinners for me are the ones I refuse to take much time for. On Friday and Saturday, I'm doing something that takes a while - wallpapering, sewing, new drapes, whatever - and I'm not going to waste a lot of time cooking. So last Thursday night I had made the Wall Street Journal's pork roast, but had a lot left over. Saturday I remembered the Pulled Pork, and decided I'd make a variation of it. Everyone loved it.
SORT OF PULLED PORK
2 to 3 pounds leftover pork, cut into small strips
2 cups water
3 beef bouillon cubes
1 onion, minced1/4 cup water whisked with 1/4 cup flour
A couple of dashes of Worcestershire Sauce
3 loaves French Bread, cut in half
Boil the water, cubes and onion, and Worcestershire sauce. Whisk in the water/flour mix; stir until thickened. Add the pork; simmer about 15 minutes. Spoon into the rolls with a slotted spoon, to avoid too much gravy; add more gravy if desired. This is a very filling, and easy, meal.
My weeping cherry tree, which has to be at least 50 years old, and more likely 80, says it:
My backyard says it:
Spring is finally here. The trees in our orchard have finally begun to bloom. I don't recall the bright red one ever being so vivid before! In the foreground is a little Bradford Pear, planted 2 years ago to replace another which was taken down by a microburst, and it's covered in flowers. To its left in this picture is the twin to the original one; it's funny that the twin isn't blooming.
And, of course, the dandelions have arrived. Son #4 will be home from college next weekend, and it's a darn good thing. No, hubby doesn't mow this yard, because, since he does all the laundry and some of the dishes for me, I'd feel honor bound to buy a second tractor and cut part of the lawn myself. In a dress, heels and pearls? Ha! Pay the sons, or pay a lawn service.
All hail spring!
I just bought this.
I've wanted one since I was, like, 10. My husband's family let his grandmother's go a year or 2 before I met him. It was identical to this. Boy was I irritated when I found out.
One of my sons will have to go fetch it on his way home from college. I will be excited to see it next week. I know it needs a belt, but I figure I can get it to work (and be decorative). Marjie's next project: lots of fun furniture refinishing in the basement.
One of the things I like about Calvert School's home curriculum (aside from not having to dream up the vast majority of our "stuff:) is that the assignments are interesting for the kids, and vary, but still teach the basics well. My older son, sixth grade, has had to write a variety of compostions this year, from a "how to" (building a snow fort) to a King Arthur story for an invented knight, to a book review for Amazon.com, to a persuasive letter ("All homework should be abolished immediately!"). I think he really enjoyed Friday's assignment, making a humorous advertisement for some product, real or imagined. First, the Grammar and Composition book explained the various types of humor found in ads (silliness, irony, etc), then offered some guidelines. This is his ad:
Above the drawing, which appears to be Mom & Dad at the kitchen table with a box of crayons in the middle, is the caption: "Crayola: Everyone Loves Them." The wife is asking if her husband shouldn't be at work, while he requests that she pass him the red crayon.
I liked it.
I make a lot of bread. I'm quite averse to paying out the wazoo for bread, only to have one of my overly fussy sons (he knows who he is) to throw it out the day before it gets to its "sell by" date because "It's bad now!" This is one of my favorite sandwich breads. After it's cooled, it slices well, but it remains really soft. The flavor is very mild, so it doesn't change or mask delicate flavors of any sandwich ingredients that might land on your plate. It's also great with soft boiled or sunny side up eggs, especially for someone like my dearly beloved who heaves his bread or toast into his eggs (Gasp! Treason! Those of us who are food segregationalists cannot abide mixing the foods!)
PORTUGUESE WHITE BREAD
1-1/2 cup warm water
1/4 cup butter
4 tsp. sugar
2 tsp. salt
4 cups flour
6 tsp. yeast
Add the yeast to the water, then add the rest of the ingredients to the bread machine pan, or add the flour bit by bit to a bowl and stir with a large wooden spoon. Let the bread machine run for 15 minutes; let the dough rest for 15 minutes. Turn into 2 greased and floured bread pans, and let rise about 30 to 45 minutes, until doubled in size. Bake at 350 for 25 to 28 minutes, depending upon how dark you want your crust. Note that I didn't let these loaves rise quite long enough; they could have been fluffier. Nonetheless, they were devoured.
And, to my friend Paula, welcome to the blogosphere. Your chicken soup today looks splendid!
Tuesday is "Brownie Tuesday" night. Minor problem this tuesday: no cocoa powder, and no brownie mix. What's a traditionalist to do? Quick! Blond Brownies, also known as Blondies. Actually, I much porefer these, since I don't eat chocolate flavored food. It simply can't compare to the sinful delight of a nice, expensive piece of real, plain chocolate. I also didn't have any instant pudding mix, so I made a batch of homemade butterscotch pudding. Minor problem again: no recipe. Winging it, they didn't come out exactly right, so I'll try again this weekend. Anyway:
BLONDIES
1/2 cup butter, melted
2 cups packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1tsp. vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tbsp. baking powder
1 cup chopped walnuts.
Mix melted butter and brown sugar at low speed. Add eggs, and beat until smooth. Stir in vanilla, flour and baking powder until blended, and add walnuts. Spread in 13x9 pan (dough will be stiff) and bake at 350 for 28 to 32 minutes. These are terrific the next day, too, if they last that long.
tice the population; I went into their gas station/trading post and counted exactly one soul. Notice also the snow embedded in the fence post beside the boys. This photo was taken Saturday, on my way back across I-80 to Cheyenne, and it was snowing again! Foolish me, I thought May was spring. Obviously, I didn't wear the pink sundress I'd chosen for my daughter's graduation; in fact, I took a long leather coat I'd bought her and she had never worn ("Blondes can't wear tan, Mooooothhhherrrrr!").
t little boy doesn't love dinos? And aside f
rom the fact that the airline gave me a hard time about getting on the plane (yes - I do so look like a troublemaker), taking the redeye back from Denver to Philly on Saturday night was brilliant. Even though we live 125 miles away, the flight was over $250 per person cheaper by returning to Philly in the middle of the night, and that more than paid the $420 for the limo to bring us home. We all slept, stretched out on the lovely leather stretch limo seats, and someone else did the driving, and I still saved $600 over flying in and out of my home airport. If I had flown both ways out of Philadelphia, it would have cost more, factoring in the cost of gas. Sometimes, all the stars align just right, don't they?
Walking across the stage to get her diploma:
And with her empty diploma folder; they will mail her diploma in 4 to 6 weeks!
And with her happy little brothers, one of whom is wearing a hat she bought him
:And with her proud but oxygen deprived Daddy:
And with her proud Mom (who was not looking her very best that day)
Next year, she's headed to law school. She's choosing between 2 law schools, both of which have offered her substantial scholarships. Her brothers think it'll be great to have a lawyer in the family.
Monday, they told me it was my 7th birthday. I didn't know what that meant, other than that they made me wear this funny hat:
And, by the way, that's a plastic plate, which was thrown out. Mom doesn't let animals eat off her dishware.
