Well Enough Alone

This morning I did it again. I screwed the top off the Molly McButter and dumped half the container in my oatmeal. It wasn't the first time and it isn't always Molly McButter on the oatmeal. Cinnamon on the toast, nutmeg on top of the eggnog, chili powder in the taco meat. I cannot learn. No, really. I can't. And you can see how long this has been going on by the eggnog reference.

Why did the spice companies have to make things better for me by replacing a screw top, with a shaker underneath, with a shaker under a flip top?

In theory, this ought to be great. Only one hand is required to do what used to take two, leaving the other hand free to stir, answer the phone, or knock the cat off the counter. Except, after all these years, I operate a spice bottle using motor memory skill—meaning my mind doesn't think about it. My body just does what it always has.

I am not against all change. Flip top cans, tuna in a pouch, and a ketchup bottle that stores upside down are all good things. I could write four pages about my love of Swiffer products—especially the mop. But I can't ruin my oatmeal without my brain coming into play with these things.

Now is the part where I am supposed to go all lofty and use this little inconvenience of life as some metaphor or some other hooey. I'm not gonna. I'm just going to be mad about spice bottles for a while. Sorry. That's all I've got in me today. You go ahead and think about somebody in a third word country who'd just be glad to have a bottle of nutmeg any way they could get it. That's fair. You're not wrong. But I'm not giving out fair today.

I was with some people recently who were livid over those new twisty light bulbs. I am mostly ambivalent about them. In fact, I kind of like them because they last a long time.

But I have had a gut load of those spice bottles.

Any change in the manufacturing world that's got you up in arms?

Recipe Friday--Sun-Dried Tomato Pate

If you need a party dish that you can put together in nothing flat, this is for you. In spite of the name, there is no liver in it. I wouldn't make it if there was. I hate liver almost as much as I hate sour cream.
The hardest thing about this recipe is locating the sun-dried tomatoes in the store. I swear, they move them around. Sometimes they're with the raw tomatoes, sometimes the canned tomatoes, sometimes the Italian ingredients. But it's worth it, even if you have to look all three places.

It tastes like pizza and keeps for weeks in the fridge.

Sun-Dried Tomato Pate

• ½ cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes
• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• ¼ cup butter, softened
• ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1 clove garlic
• ¼ t. dried oregano
• ¼ t. dried basil
• ½ t. dried thyme
• ½ t. salt

Put everything in the food processor and process until smooth and blended. Chill for at least 4 hours to allow flavors to blend. Let soften before serving with crackers.

Note: If you buy sun-dried tomatoes with herbs, omit the oregano, basil, and thyme. After blending, taste and correct the seasonings. You may need to add none or all of the herbs called for, depending on the brand of tomatoes. .

New York, New York

It's Thursday, so this must be Stephanie. Except it's not. Jean here. Stephanie is having a computer issue and will be with you on Monday. Probably.

Everybody is blogging about New York. I would but I can't Not really. I haven't really been to New York. Oh, I got on a plane, landed at LaGuardia and made my way to the Marriott in Times Square. But I went to the RWA Conference and saw very little of the city. No Statue of Liberty. No Empire State Building. No museums. I only saw Times Square because that's where I was living.

Apart from walking around some and eating, I went to workshops, meet and greets, and Stephanie and I pitched our manuscripts.

Still, I learned a few things about New York.

• Diet Mountain Dew is hard to come by.
• We couldn't find any Jets or Bills hats because it's not football season.
• If they can dress something up as the Statue of Liberty, they will—M&M man, Sponge Bob, Mickey Mouse. Well, maybe not Mickey Mouse.
• Hot tea? Yes. Coffee? Absolutely. Iced tea? Not so much.
• The pizza really is better.
• McDonald's doesn't have biscuits.
• It's not as easy to find Indian food as you might expect.
• Everybody seemed to have a good idea where they were going, except us.
• I am very glad I can't get black and white cookies where I live.

Have you ever been somewhere and felt like you haven't been there?

Stick To The Code or Get Swabbed

RWA conference was such a blast! Special thanks to the staff of Romance Writers of America for putting on such a uber awesome weeklong writer fest, and a hearty thank you to The Guy for watching over the blog while Jean, Stephanie, and I were gone. ;)

Getting ready for conference is always a whirlwind affair. Of course, the ever needed packing list comes into play. You can always find a great one listed in the archives of The Writing Playground. Once an attendee prepares/purchases his/her wardrobe, pitches are readied, and bags are packed and loaded into the car for a quick, or long ride to the airport. Expectations abound and hearts begin to race. Bags are checked, tickets approved, and the scanners and tuperware bins, though a tedious affair, remind the eager traveler that the journey is underway.

I adore airport personel who monitor the scanners and screens that x-ray our belongings, and our bodies, ensuring that we arrive safely to our destinations. I'm just as eager as the next person to get through the line and to my gate. What I never expect to get is swabbed. Yes, my deck got swabbed.

Who would have known that after walking through scanners for almost all my airline travels to date, I would be taken out of line, told to extend my hands and get swabbed. Arrr! The ironic part is, though there was something detected on my hands, I had just washed them before coming out of the bathroom and getting into line. Powdery substance on hands after washing them? Who knew? (Notice I do not claim 'pirate' here. That would be very bad timing. ;)

Being a good sport and not wanting to hang from Tilbury Point until I rot, I stepped where I was told to go and offered my belongings for a thorough swabbing. The inspectors rose to the task.

"Would you prefer that we did this in an enclosed room," they asked.

Having nothing to hide, I exclaimed, "You can check anything you want to right here."

Jean and Stephanie's eyes were as big as full moons, and just as white as they waited for me off to the side. I could see the questions riddling their minds... "She's got our pens for the Goody Room. How will we get them back?" "Are we going to make our flight?"

I directed the last question to my airline operatives. A man continued to swab my backpack and carry-on. Two women stood nearby, prepared to take me into the room for further inspection. As I was guided into the room, I reached out to Jean and Stephanie psychically, pleading for them not to stick to the code. (It's more like guidelines anyway.)

Luckily, the two airline operatives were very nice and did their jobs while helping me maintain my dignity fully-clothed. Thank you, swabbettes!

As I stepped out of that room, bless their hearts (and I do mean this in the best possible way, not the way listed on one of Jean's lists), Jean and Stephanie were waiting for me with open arms. Like Joshamee Gibbs, they had used the code as a guideline and were prepared to redirect their journey, if need be, with me aboard. After all that, thank goodness, we were able to meet our gate on time and didn't have to deal with rescheduling issues. :D

Our direct flight with Delta was fantastic. We had the best stewardess you could ever ask for. And after my initial swabbing, I can assure you her eagerness to please was greatly appreciated.

I'll post more about our trip through the next few weeks. But today I want to know, what is your crazy travel story?

The Japanese Are Invading!

A battle is raging on this continent, in every backyard, across the prairies, in the mountains, and even in the big cities. I am a warrior in this battle and I gird myself with the proper armaments – I must be prepared.

Long before Pearl Harbor, the Japanese invaded this country. Oh, no, not the Japanese people but one of their most insidious pests – the Japanese Beetle. Every summer I begin my patrols. I closely examine my crepe myrtles, roses, and birches, searching for those little armor-plated creatures and anticipating the newest invasion. Dreading when it starts.



Well, this year it came a bit later than usual. They must have decided that devouring most of my roses and shrubs could wait until near the Fourth of July. I can hear their war council now – “Maybe she won’t notice that we stripped a tree in less than twenty-four hours if she’s busy celebrating.” Ha! Never! I am ever vigilant, forever watching and forever waiting. My battle barometer is a beautiful weeping cherry. I know when they have arrived because the tree becomes a lacy web of stripped leaves, turning brown in the summer sun.

I walked out the other morning and there they were, happily munching on my cherry tree. Time for battle! I calmly went inside, grabbed my sprayer, loaded it with liquid Sevins and proceeded to the first battleground. I laughed gleefully as tiny bodies fell from the sky - their iridescent armor littering the ground beneath the tree. I moved on, anticipating their next move. The crepe myrtles. And there they were, eating my lovely watermelon-colored blooms. A steady stream of liquid poison flew from my weapon and, once again, coppery bodies hit the ground. I was winning! Until…

I rounded the corner and noticed they were in the river birches and my favorites, the white birches! The trees were too tall! What was I to do? I was out of ammunition and no sprayer I owned could reach the tops of those trees. I retreated. Time to regroup. A quick trip to the local farmer’s cooperative got me the big guns – a water sprayer. I attached it to my hose and set out again. This time more bodies rained from the sky. Take that! How dare you eat the leaves from my favorite trees!

I thought the battle was over until I noticed the beetles had relocated to my grape vines! This was simply too much! I had run out of liquid poison so I had to retreat to the old tried and true method – dusting the vines with Sevins. Growing up on a farm, I knew how to handle it. Grab a pillowcase, throw some Sevins in it and proceed. This was close, hand-to mandible warfare but I had to save my grapes. Let the dusting begin. I coated the leaves with white powder and the little devils began to fly – they had no taste for my old-style combat. Finally finished, I went into the garage, battle-weary with a white-coated face.

The war is subsiding even as I write this. I can hear their little wings beating a hasty retreat. I still make frequent forays outside, sprayer or pillowcase in hand. Let them rear their ugly little beetle heads. I am the warrior!

Do you fight this beetle battle every year? How do you approach it? Share your choice of weapons in this monumental fight and tell me how you defend your yard.

Happy Independence Day!

We're back from New York and will be filling you in over the next few weeks. Meanwhile. . . .

Happy Independence Day!

Recipe Friday Big Apple Apple Pie

Okay, so we're in the Big Apple and I'm sure we are missed by all. So here's a recipe for the best apple pie in the world. If you can't make a pie crust, learn. It's not the same without the cheese crust.

For the Crust:

1½ cups of all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons cold butter, cut into small pieces

3 tablespoons shortening

½ cup extra sharp grated cheddar cheese

5-6 tablespoons ice water

Mix flour and salt in a bowl. Cut in butter and shortening with a pastry blender until crumbly. Toss in cheese with a fork. Add water one tablespoon at a time, mixing until soft dough forms. Chill covered for 15 minutes. Roll on a floured surface and place in pie plate. Chill for 30 minutes. Proceed with recipe.

For the Pie:

½ cup sugar

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1-teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/8-teaspoon salt

6 cups thinly sliced apples of assorted varieties. This will be about six apples. (Just go to the market and get six different kinds.)

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 recipe topping mix (recipe follows)

Preheat over to 375°F.

Mix sugar, flour, cinnamon, and salt in a small bowl. In large bowl toss apples slices with lemon juice. Add flour mixture and toss to coat. Transfer to chilled cheese crust. Sprinkle with topping and place pie on a cookie sheet. Cover edges with foil. Bake for 25 minutes. Remove foil and bake an additional 25 minutes.

Topping Mix:

1 cup packed dark brown sugar

½ cup all-purpose flour

½ cup quick cooking rolled oats

½ cup cold butter

Mix together brown sugar, flour, and oats. Cut in butter until it resembles course crumbs.