house on hillsboro

A (Curious) Boy and His (Rather Tame) Turkey.

The End.

Happy 6th Birthday, Ava!

(Posted a day late, sorry Sweetheart.)

Here you are, exactly six years old.

I couldn't love you more. 

You were so excited to finally get a go at the Birthday Interview we began with Jack last December.

• How old are you today?  Six.
• What grade are you in?  Kindergarten.
• What is your favorite color?  Green.
• What is your favorite thing to eat?  Spaghetti.
• What is your favorite thing to drink?  Lemonade.
• What is your favorite thing to do?  Swim.
• What is your favorite movie?  The Boy Who Could Fly.
• What is your favorite song?  Little St. Nick.
• What is your favorite book?  Kitten's First Full Moon.
• What do you want to be when you grow up?  Dolphin Trainer.
• If you could travel anywhere in the world where would you go?  Sea World.
• Who is your best friend?  Ally.
• Who is your favorite - Mama or Daddy?  Mama AND Daddy.
• Who does Mama love most in the whole world?  Me.

"Did I get the answers right, Mama?"

Gosh, you were so sweet sitting on that rock having your picture taken.  Dad couldn't help but notice, too,  so over he came and the usual shenanigans ensued.   

He said he would like to pick his sweetie a flower.

But, BIG SURPRISE, he used it to tickle your nose, brush your teeth,

and beat you about the head.  Which you loved.

Then he swung you around and for the dreaded birthday whooping.

But in the end you forgave him.  Because we always do, don't we.

I think you need to try being less cute.  He just can't help himself.  And I can't blame him.

Height:  46 inches, exactly

Weight:  43.6 pounds

      

It. Snowed.

We are all most fortunate that in the days since I have found myself too busy to blog about it because my enthusiasm would have bordered on ridiculous and most likely have been unbearable for a few of my friends above the Mason-Dixon line.

Thursday night's weather report suggested a chance of light snow on Friday with possible accumulation of an inch which Ava HEARD causing her to lay awake in bed for hours, then dream of playing in snow the likes of which she had never seen or touched.  But the Friday morning report squashed our Snow Day dreams with an announcement that no schools were closed and while light flurries were probable, accumulation was not, being that the temperature (that was in the 70's the day before) would remain in the mid thirties.  Poo.

So I took Ava to school.  And I drove home.  And the snow began to fall.  Then the snow began to pile.  I grabbed Jack and ran outside and for the first time in his sweet little life the idea of snow began to make sense.  But I felt awful - positively sick at the thought of Ava watching her first snowfall through the windows of a classroom and me missing the look on her face.  WHAT IF THE SNOW STOPPED?  THEN MELTED!  ALL WHILE SHE SAT DUTIFULLY IN HER SEAT AT SCHOOL, MISERABLE.  WHILE JACK AND I WERE AT HOME MAKING SNOWBALLS - THE VERY THING SHE HAS WISHED FOR WITH EVERY PENNY SHE HAS EVER PLUNKED INTO THE FOUNTAIN AT THE RIVERWALK MALL!!?

So off we went to check her out and I couldn't get there fast enough.  But my fear that it all would melt before I could get Ava's little hands in it lessened with the fall of every snowflake.  It was snowing more heavily now and the radio announced school closings. 

Ava had never been more happy to see me.  We were all SO EXCITED and could barely wait to get home and by the time we did the "flurries" had turned into...A LOT OF SNOW FALLING and an "inch" was every bit of 3 or 4 and counting.

But there was one little problem.  JD was due to fly in that very evening and I began to realize there would be no way.  Sure enough, as I was digging through drawers trying to find gloves and thermals, the phone rang - JD in Dallas, flight canceled, he would not be home at 6:35pm to marvel with us at the snow.  Shuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute.

But we did it.  We bundled up, went outside, and did everything we have ever seen anyone do in the snow.

One by one, Ava checked off the list (compiled since birth) of things she longed to do in snow - snowball fight, snow forte, snow man with carrot nose, infamous snow angel, all the while (and dead seriously) insisting that she was dreaming it all but that in this dream the snow felt more hard and wet and cold.  In her first dream (the night before), she explained, it felt soft like marshmallows and warmer.  I'll never forget those moments.  Long as I live.

I took pictures (bless my little camera, hung in there right through the blizzard, but it was scary!) and Jack wandered aimless, determined to leave his tracks on every smooth and perfect bit of rolling snow he could find, till we could go no more. 

We woke the next morning so happy to see snow still on the ground and eager to do it all again - but this time with DAD! (he had taken a rental car home from Dallas and sneaked in around midnight). 

Everything is more fun (and painful) with Dad! 

Yes, yes.  The snow was deep, the sun was shining, JD was home.  Oh the joy.

Maybe next time, Pretty Bird.

When you are the world's smartest chicken, hanging around the house all day just doesn't always cut it.  Apparently.  When Jack and I headed outside today promptly at 2:00 as usual to pick Ava up from school, Jane (whose many talents include noting routines) was in midair, half way up to landing on the hood of my truck.

 

Which I thought was cute and all but moments later it became clear that she wanted to come along.  Really bad.  And Jane has a way of being very convincing - looking me in the eye, pecking the window,

this.

Good grief, I could hardly bear it.  So she went.

 

But she didn't go because I am already the ONLY mom in the car pick up line with a perpetually mud covered, 4-wheel drive, diesel.  A chicken on my shoulder would have just been too much.  Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if the other moms didn't have some wagers on that very thing happening.  And I flat refuse to give them the satisfaction.

Ava & Jack are Very Successful.

A person is a success if they get up in the morning and get to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.

- Bob Dylan

Steve (the owner of the net and teacher of the technique) is now 100% superstar to Jack and Ava.

Most fun we've had all year.

Frankie,

I know how you like to go outside and act all tough in front of the other dogs.

But I know the truth.

The Food You Crave.

The Cornmeal-Crusted Roasted Ratatouille Tart was next up here in my test kitchen and to be honest, after all that bragging, I half expected the next several recipes to be total disasters.  Plus, I didn't have the nine-inch tart pan it calls for (I used a nine-inch spring form) or a food processor (I made the crust by hand) so my doubts were mounting. 

Silly me.

Perfection. Unforgettable.  I shall make it for everyone I know and stare at them while they eat it and say, "I know, right?  RIGHT!"  Yeah, from now on, I am referring to this cookbook as my 'Book of Potions'.  It's magic.  I'm spellbound.

*The recipe version I linked to doesn't specify how thinly to slice the vegetables but according to the book - an 1/8 inch.

*It also calls for 1 zucchini equal to a 1/2 pound.  Unless your zucchini is huge, it takes two.

*While not difficult, the tart is fairly time consuming (and worth it!) so start early.

*I nearly doubled the salt & pepper because I felt like I lost so much on the pan. 

*Be conservative when brushing the veges with the olive oil so as to cover them all.

*The spring form pan worked perfectly.

Anna Tunic

My first taste of sewing came in eight grade Home Ec.  I learned the basics and I wanted more.  In the years after, I struggled with patterns and technique but knew no one who could offer guidance. Then in January of last year, I was googling something related to sewing that led me to the first blog I ever read, Angry Chicken.  The page loaded (this very one) and as I read and scrolled and read, my eyes opened wider and I leaned in closer, COMPLETELY BLOWN AWAY.

I had grown accustomed to being the only pregnant lady crocheting in the Woman's Clinic waiting room.  I browsed through fabric stores alongside the grannies.  I talked quilts with my Mother in law's elderly friends.  But I longed for a contemporary, a young friend who I not only had sewing and crocheting with in common but also our ages and everything that would go along with that. 

 

Monumental it was that day to "meet" someone like me.  Others do exist.  And according to her link list, many, many others!  I am not some 'granny in a girls body' weirdo after all, but a member of an amazing sisterhood of women worldwide who embrace domestic arts and caring for one's family all the while being sophisticated, forward thinking, and modern.

I loaded page after page of her archives - sewed this dress for middle child, cross stitched this over weekend, had this sandwich for lunch- you should try it, reviewed latest sewing book, found new fabric.  I loved it all.  Link after link, I met new people just like her, like us, their blogs full of practical advice (I desperately need), free tutorials!, and inspiration enough for ten lifetimes.   

Soooo.   I love to sew and last week I conquered Amy Butler's Anna Tunic.  This was my first experience with her patterns and I was so impressed by her clear instruction and illustration.  A testament to this is that I FINISHED the garment AND (and this is huge) I would actually wear it in PUBLIC.

The Hair????  But the top?  Cute, huh?  Wearable at least!  My only complaint is the circumference of the arm openings.  The fabric under the arm actually touches my armpit and while that is great for modesty it is bad for someone who might sometimes on occasion have a slightly overactive sweat gland in her right armpit.  BUT, that probably has more to do with my man-arms than the pattern itself.  (Darn gymnastics.)

The camera did not want to focus on this fabric. 

My version here is the Cami versus the longer tunic variation.  I loved the tunic but I have a longer torso and short legs.  The Cami camouflages that where as the Tunic would have emphasized it.   This pattern will also make a minidress. 

I may never meet Amy (Angry Chicken) for a shrimp Po Boy at Catfish Charley's and gush over the newest Heather Ross fabric line or spend a Sunday afternoon on her back porch, each at one end of a newly pieced quilt watching Atonement and hand sewing tiny stitches, but I know she's out there creating and telling about it.  And that's enough for me.

Yeah, kindred spirits unite!  Blogs are wonderful things.  And the Internet is TOTALLY FREAKING AWESOME.

Chocolate Cherry Almond Biscotti

I have never been a calorie counter.  Never.  Never.  Never.  But I only fully enjoy food that is good for me.  I also like my food to taste really, really good (quirky me).  Nobody combines these two better than Ellie Krieger.  You may know her through her Food Network Show Healthy Appetite but she is also a registered dietitian with a master's degree from Columbia University.

I loved her FoodTV recipes but they trickled out slow as molasses and I'm... hungry.  BUT NOW, she's come out with a 300+ page cookbook full of brilliant, healthful recipes.  The book is The Food You Crave and it is not a diet/weight loss book but rather a source of nutrient rich, well balanced recipes.  The fact that the food is not overly fat/calorie laden is a bonus. 

When I jumped over to Amazon for the link I noticed the book had a full five stars and 43 reviews.  No surprise, I have been cooking through it for weeks now and not encountered a single recipe that didn't a) turn out well or b) taste delicious.  They are all in the permanent rotation now, but the biscotti in particular stands out. 

We have all had bad, bad biscotti but forget about that.  Here is a cookie that contains only a 1/2 cup of sugar for twelve servings, uses a mere 1/4 cup of heart healthy olive oil for the fat, has a myriad of flavor in every bite, keeps for over a week, and is insane dipped into a cup of black coffee.

When you slice the half-baked log it yields enough pieces to exactly cover a half sheet pan.  Isn't that delightful? 

Ellie Krieger's Chocolate Cherry Almond Biscotti

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/4 c whole-wheat pastry flour or regular whole wheat flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup sugar

2 large eggs

1/4 c olive oil

1 teaspoon finely grated orange zest

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 cup dried tart cherries, finely chopped

1/2 cup raw almonds, finely chopped

2 ounces good quality dark chocolate (60-70%), finely chopped

Preheat the oven to 350.

In a medium bowl whisk together the flours, baking powder, and salt.  In a large bowl, beat together the sugar, eggs, oil, orange zest, and vanilla until well combined.  In batches, add the flour mixture until the mixture forms a dough.  Stir in the cherries, almonds, and chocolate.

Transfer the dough to a floured work surface and knead several times.  Shape into a log about 10 inches long and 3 inches wide.  Transfer to a parchment lined baking sheet and bake for 25 minutes.  Transfer to a wire rack and let cool for 15 minutes.

With a serrated knife, cut the log across at a diagonal into 1/2 inch thick slices.  Arrange on the baking sheet, cut side down, and bake for 10 minutes.  Turn the cookies over and bake until golden 5 to 10 minutes longer.  (Go 10!) Transfer to a wire rack to cool.  Keep the biscotti stored at room temperature in an airtight container where they will keep for about a week.

* lightly fill the teaspoon with zest, otherwise the orange is too much (for me)

* really saw with the serrated knife instead of pressing to keep the biscotti from breaking

For Becca ; )

Dear JD,

How are you?  All is well here at home.

We are all fever free (finally!) and only a slight cough remains of whatever dreadful virus plagued us these past few weeks.  All my company have come and gone (Hi Daddy!  Miss you.) and I used the last few quiet, unscheduled days to sew my little heart out - right to the point of causing the bobbin to cry Uncle and stop working completely.  Poo.

Gosh, you have been so patient with my unintended blog absence and it didn't go unnoticed.  As a token of thanks, I brought the camera and your babies with me to feed this afternoon to document the day, just as it occurred.

We stepped out to an overcast day but no rain and a comfortable 60 degrees.  Straight out of the door FRANK ran to you know where

(this thicket is Jane and Henny Penny's favorite hang out) to chase you know who. 

But Jane, being the world's smartest chicken and all, knew just what to do -tattle to Mama - and she did.  So I tended to business and the ladies went back about their's.

And Frank slinked out, ashamed as he well should be.  He KNOWS better.  Stinker.

And exactly 17 seconds later he had recovered from my severe lashing (you know how I am) enough to go about his business as usual. 

Then we were all off, down to the camp for the pre-feed parade the horses put on for us everyday.  So nice of them, that is.

And as usual, immediately following the parade was the stampede to the first feed bucket, like clockwork.

Little sweetie helped Mama and Jack,

well, you know.  The usual.

Have I mentioned I tidied up the camp.  Yup.  See pic below, but I'll warn you - this one pulls you in and makes you stay awhile.

See, told you.

The hay is holding out nicely.  I know how you worry about that.

But the feed buckets are driving me crazy.  We need a new system, for sure - project one when you get home, maybe?  Um, make that project two.  (Sewing machine, One.) 

The new horse is rounding out nicely, don't you think.  I've been calling her GG.

We spent the rest of the evening doing the usual.  Like this.

And that.

And the inevitable.

When we are picking up the new feed troughs remind me to get the kids taller boots.

She misses you.  So much.

And yes, Maggie was there with her usual look that I'll call

PET.  ME.

and yes, I was wearing my red "outside shoes" but THIS time I didn't bother to take off my stripy socks because we live miles and miles from another soul and statistically speaking I could frolic outside in that long, sweatshirt kitty cat nightgown most any day and not get caught.  But Steve dropped by.  And I was a bit embarrassed.

Steve's arrival ignited a new death match between Slick & Slim (two Whippet looking dogs that made themselves at home here while we were away on our exotic diamond expedition).  Embarrassing, AGAIN.  Especially when his dog, Lacy, was so well behaved AND well dressed - every single one of our dogs was nekked as jay birds.  Heathens. 

Anyhoo, about his time, Jack fell down in the pond and screamed that he was coooooooooold while sister risked life and limb to save him.  (Make those tall boots hip waders.)

And that was it.  Typical day.  But no you.

So we laughed a lot less and the kids didn't reach death defying heights on the swings and no one kissed me on the fishing deck.  But you can imagine, these pictures will help. 

Forever Yours,

The Lady of Hillsboro