Pumpkin Rolls

          Thanksgiving has come and gone.

          It's the time of year, and again at Christmastime, that I pull out the old baking sheets, Aunt B's recipe, and make pumpkin rolls.

          A long, long time ago; a hundred years and two lifetimes ago, my father came to visit (he ended up staying for a few years) and he brought with him a pumpkin roll and the recipe from his younger sister, my beloved Aunt Brenda.

          You see, I don't like pumpkin all that well and I wasn't interested in making pumpkin anything. My father, smart man that he was, had Aunt Brenda make me a pumpkin roll.

          "Just try it!" he begged.

          I really, really, really didn't want to. But I screwed up my courage and took a bite. That's it. That's all it took. I was in love from that moment on!

          I still have the original recipe that Pop brought with him that day. I've since retired it but still pull it out from time to time to make copies when someone asks for the recipe. I love sharing this little piece of my father (his handwriting) and my aunt (her recipe).

          Monday, at exercise class, the ladies were talking about all the yummy food at the church's annual Thanksgiving dinner the Saturday before.

          "...and there was pumpkin roll," Rosie said.

          "I love pumpkin roll!" Judy enthused, "But I can't make it."

          "Why not?" I asked. "It's easy."

          "That's what everyone says but I'm too chicken to try."

          "I'm making some tomorrow. Come to my house and I'll show you how," I offered.

          And it was all set.

          I figured I needed to have six pumpkin rolls, so I would have four made, two complete with filling, and two ready to be filled. That way, Judy could see each step in the process.

          Tuesday morning, I baked. And I have to tell you that I had problems from the get-go, so much so that I was beginning to doubt my own skill!

          Pumpkin rolls bake for 9 to 12 minutes. I set my timer for 10. When I checked it, it was plenty done. I pulled it out and put the second one in vowing to check it at 9 minutes. I dumped the first one out on the paper-towel-covered aluminum foil, sprinkled it with powdered sugar, and started to roll it up. I'll be darned if it didn't crack! Was it too done? I wondered.

          I got busy with something else and didn't get back to the oven before the timer went off so he baked for 10 minutes too. I dumped him out, gave him a sprinkle, and decided to be extra careful when I rolled him up.

          I hadn't rolled him far when he broke. "Dang!" I exclaimed. I kept going and he broke again! Committed, I kept going and he broke a third time! Right at the perforation line...

          Wait.

           At the perforation line? That was it! That's what my problem is. The Bounty Basics aren't as heavy as the regular Bounty towels, and the Select-A-Size doubled the number of perforations!

          I checked the third one at nine minutes but he wasn't done. He needed another minute. When he came out of the oven, I dumped him, sprinkled him with powdered sugar, and this time when I rolled it up, I rolled it up with the aluminum foil.

          "Peg, that's what the directions say to do," you say.

          Yeah, I know. But here's my problem with that. When you roll the foil up with the pumpkin roll, it gets covered in sugar so you have to throw it away and get a fresh piece to put the pumpkin roll in when it's done. I didn't like wasting all that foil and I discovered I could roll up just the paper towels and it was fine.

          So here's the take-away. Use a good, full size paper towel so you only have one perforation to deal with, or roll it up with the foil. That supports it enough it won't break.

           When I filled the pumpkin rolls, the cracks on the inside don't matter that much but the one on the outside of the roll is pretty obvious. Luckily, it doesn't change the taste and I'd keep the worse looking one for myself.

          When Judy arrived, we got busy making the last two pumpkin rolls. I showed her how to check them for doneness, loosen them from the sides of the pan, dump, and roll them. We didn't have to wait an hour for them to cool so I could show her how to fill them since I already had two cooled ones just waiting to be filled. Then it's best to let them firm up for a couple of hours, or even overnight, before you slice them and that's where I pulled out one of the ones I'd made earlier in the day and we sat at the table and had a piece. 

          Kevin, our youngest son, is the King Of Pumpkin Rolls and continues the tradition of making Pumpkin Rolls for his family.

          I remember when I first gave him the recipe. "What's 10K sugar?" he asked.

          I smiled. "It's not 10K (even though that's what it looks like in Pop's handwriting) it's 10X, and that's what they used to call confectioners sugar." Domino Sugar still has 10-X on their labels.

          "Why did they call it that?" you wonder.

          10X refers to how fine the sugar is ground and then it's mixed with cornstarch to keep it from clumping. You can actually make it at home if you wanted to.

          This year Andrew helped his dad make the pumpkin rolls. He mixed.

          And he checked them for doneness.

          "How do you check them?" you wonder.

          Touch the top with your finger. If it comes away clean, it's done. Andrew may have to refine his technique a little.

          And the best part of making pumpkin roll?

          Licking the spatula when you finish filling it!

         

          I see that Kevin is participating in No-Shave November again this year.

          I also see that Kevin uses a flour sifter. I'm guessing his powdered sugar was a little lumpy, just as mine was. Only I didn't think to sift it. I guess the lumps never bothered me that much. I'm not sure I ever noticed them in the finished rolls.

          Then I see a photo of his completed pumpkin rolls.

          Wait, I think to myself. He powders the pumpkin roll before he wraps it in foil? How utterly smart!

          I have to confess. This is a trick I never taught Kevin, he must of come up with it on his own. And it would totally solve the problem of the pumpkin roll sticking to the foil, although that never bothered me much, it's totally ingenious. And I'm guessing his sifter comes in handy for that too!

          "Not as good as yours but dang good," Kevin told me.

          I'm sure that his are every bit as good as mine, but sometimes things taste better when you didn't make them. You know what I mean.

          I have a couple of photos that have been hanging around for a while now, waiting for me to show you.

          We bought a counter at the discount place and Mike cut the back off to make us a bar. 

Then he cut the part with the backsplash and made a shelf over the stove for me.

          He finished the back of the stove with rough sawn barn boards and I just love it.

          Bob and Tami Grider, friends of ours from Missouri, called this past week. Tami grew up in the Harrisburg area and they were coming to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving.

          "Stop up," Mike said and guess what? They did.

          Although we are a couple of three hours north of Harrisburg, Tami routed their trip via Lake Erie. "Bob is such a water guy that I wanted him to see it," Tami said. "But it was so cold we really couldn't stay as long as I wanted to."

          So it wasn't as far out of their way as it could have been.

          We met them in town and they followed us back to our mountain home. We took some of the back roads just to let them see the scenery they wouldn't get to see from the main roads.

          We had a good visit and we got to catch up on all the news from the Lake area.

          You know something? With all the hand washing I do, my hands can get a little dry and I have a hard time turning the knob on the kitchen door to let the girlies out — or Smudge in, whichever the case may be. I got a piece of the no-skid stuff I use for shelf liners and kept it by the door but that meant I'd try the knob first, realize I can't grip the knob,  then I'd have to stop and pick up the piece of no-skid and that got to be a pain. I've seen tips and hints where they've used hot glue on the bottom of rugs and slippers to make them no-skid. Would it work on the door knob? I wondered. So I got out the hot glue gun given to me by a friend, plugged it in, and drew lines on the knob.

          It works! The only problem is, if you twist too hard, you'll pop the glue lines off.

          "You should have gone around the knob in a circle," Mike said. "Then you're not always working against it."

          "Okay," I said. "When all of these fall off I'll do it that way."

          I've lost a couple of the lines but there's still enough on there that it works.

          Our Ben Franklin, a craft store, went out of business. Wednesday was their last day and everything was 75% off.

          "Rosie, do you want to ride over to Towanda with me and see if there's anything left? We could stock up on our craft supplies."

          "Sure," she said and we made it a girl's day out.

          Well there wasn't much left and it was pretty well picked over but we found a couple of things to spend our money on. I picked up a few strands of beads and some candy making chocolate; Christmas is coming after all.

          After we left the Ben Franklin, we stopped at Rainbow, the second hand store that benefits the hospital. Guess what I found?

          "Oh no, Peg! Don't say it!" you say.

          Yep. Yep, I did!

          "Noooooooo! Not another clock!"

          Yep. I found an anniversary clock. I didn't realize it wasn't the right dome for it, but Mike did as soon as he saw it.

          And I found a handheld school bell. I was tickled when I found it under some junk on the house wares table. It'll look good with a few other old timey things we have sitting around.

          Thanksgiving evening found us at the Kipp table with Lamar, Rosie, and their two girls, Jenn on the left behind Rosie and Marla in front of Mike on the right. We shared dessert, conversation, and afterward, a couple of games.

          "What did you play?" I know you wanna know.

          We played a round of a new game for me, a game called Rack-O. It was easy to learn and I won one of the four hands that we played. I liked the game and thought I'd like to buy it, but I'm not so sure Mike liked it as much as I did. Of course, he didn't win a hand either.

          "And you made me play that other game," Mike complained.

          "Quiddler?"

          "Yeah."

          Mike may not like to play Quiddler, but he's pretty good at it. And I'll tell you what else. Don't play word games with any of the Kipps! They are all into words —

          "Yeah, Rosie was an English teacher," you say.

          Yeah, she was.

          "And Marla is an editor," you remind me.

          Yep, she is and boy! Give that girl a bunch of letters and she can spot words like crazy!

          "And Jenn reads so fast you don't even want to play Jeopardy with her," Rosie told me. "She answers before the rest of us are even done reading the question."

          And the Kipps do crossword puzzles and read books and newspapers and when they come across words they don't know, they look them up. All of those things make you smart.

         

          Saturday, oh Saturday!

          What a day! What a day!

          Mike has recovered enough from the flu and the weather was nice enough that we decided to start the awning off the kitchen door.

          We had lots of help.

          Mike does the hardest stuff and the stuff I do, he makes as easy for me as he can.

          We dug the holes for the posts on Friday and let me tell you something. When working in an enclosed yard where the dogs do their business, you want to go out with a rake and shovel first! I thought I did a pretty good job of picking up but found a few golden nuggets stuck to the bottom of my boot.

          Sigh.

          Saturday we put the posts in the holes and put some boards up.

          Smudge supervised the whole process.

          And we found more dog business on the bottom of our boots. Well, I had on boots, Mike had his sneakers on. I could leave my boots outside the door. Someone would have to clean up Mike's shoes.

          "I'll do it this time," I told him, "but next time wear your mud boots."

          We worked for as long as Mike's back could take it then he sat down and admired the progress we'd made while I snapped a picture.

          Our outside water supply has been winterized so I took Mike's sneakers into the shower to clean them up. I took the showerhead from the holder, set it to stream, and tried to blast all the doggie bits from the tread. It worked for the most part but I didn't want it done for the most part, I wanted it done all the way or it would get on the floors and rugs of my house!

          I need a brush, I thought. I turned the water off, left the shoes in the bottom of the shower, and went looking for an old toothbrush in our vanities. No brush. I went back to the shower and tried blasting it some more. More flaked off and went down the drain, but there was still more stuck in the treads. He should have worn his old sneakers, I thought. His old ones were so worn out there was no tread left on them! I still needed a brush. There has to be one under the sink somewhere! I thought. And this time, instead of getting up, I walked across the floor on my knees, opened the door of my vanity and moved stuff around.

          "Peg! Why didn't you move stuff around the first time you looked?" you ask.

          I did, but this time I would do a more thorough search. Nothing in the first door. Nothing in the top or bottom drawers. One door left. I opened it and spotted a toothbrush sticking up out of a box. There it is! I knew I had one; I just hadn't remembered that I put it in the box so I could find it again. See how well it worked? Back across the floor on my knees I go, back to the shower to finish scrubbing Mike's shoes. Talk about a shitty job! But I got it done. Then I stuffed newspaper into his shoes to help them dry.

          I made a cup of coffee and settled into my computer. I had a blog to write. Pictures to download from my camera, sort, reduce the size, and think about what stories I may want to tell you this week.

          "Peg!" Mike yells from the master bath.

          Ginger was in my lap, like she is now and most times when I'm sitting. I picked her up and put her on the floor to go and see what the emergency was.

          "Really, Mike!" I call as I go, I'm a little annoyed. Sometimes it seems like he just waits until I get settled into a project before he needs me for something. He probably wants me to wipe his butt, I think of our long-standing joke. I walked into the bathroom. "What Mike? What is it?"

          "Look at those lines on the rug, Peg. How did they get there?"

          Lines? On the rug? I look, but really? Who cares about lines on a rug? "I don't know! I guess it's just the way the nap is laying!"

          "No, Peg," Mike was insistent. "Look at it. Do you think a snake crawled across the floor?"

          A snake.... crawled across the floor....

          I was considering it.

          Crawled...

          A light bulb goes off in my head. "No, it was me. When I was cleaning up your shoes, instead of standing up I crawled across the floor to get a brush out of there," and I pointed to the bottom of my vanity. "Those are probably my toe marks."

          I smiled, but boy, was Mike relieved!       

          Saturday evening, I'm working on my computer and something falls into the plant beside my desk. I was afraid a mouse may have fallen, so I gingerly peek around my desk and a bat swoops out and heads for the kitchen door, he banked and went into the living room.

          "Mike! We've got a bat in here!"

         

          And let's call this one done!

          "Wait Peg, wait, wait!" you say. "What happened with the bat?"

          You'll have to wait and see!

          Until next time, know that you are all in my heart.

Too Much Stuff!

          Another week has slipped by...

          And much too fast if you ask me!

          It's been a busy but quiet week in my house this week.

          Mike woke up feeling lousy on Monday, but not bad enough that I called the Kipps off, and they stopped on their morning walk. We visited a little while and as they were getting ready to leave, Itsy joined Ginger who was already in my lap.

          "Now there's a picture!" Lamar exclaimed.

          I picked up my camera and handed it to him. This is real life folks. For better or worse, this is what I normally look like on any given day.

          Early in the afternoon I took Ginger for a walk-about. I was surprised at how much the Bittersweet had popped.

          I was standing there, snapping away, when I great ruckus arose in the weeds.

          Cat fight!

          "HEY!" I yelled. "KNOCK IT OFF!"

          Spitfire came bounding out of the weeds.

          "Who were you fighting with?" I asked and scanned the weeds for his opponent. At first I didn't see anything then I spot little Cleopatra, Spitfire's cousin, hunkered down in the weeds. She blends in so well, I bet you'll have a hard time spotting her in this shot.

          Spitfire is either bad-tempered or high-spirited because I've caught him fighting with other members of the clowder before.

          The Virgin's Bower has changed from her pretty little white summer flowers into a wispy, feathery, seed... Gosh. The only word that comes to mind is pod and that doesn't seem quite right, but with all that wild hair, she looks like Medusa!

          Rat-tat-tat.

          A woodpecker was taping away at a tree. I could hear him but I couldn't see him.

          Rat-tat-tat.

          Trying to get a better look, I followed a deer path through the brush and ended up in the driveway that goes up to the hunter's cabin.

          Rat-tat-tat.

          I was zeroing in on his location when he takes flight. I snapped away but my camera focused on the trees.

          Can't get them all, I hear Michael in my head. It's what he always says when I complain I missed a shot.

          As long as I'm here I might just as well take a picture of the Winterberries, I think and turn to head in that direction.

          Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat-tat.

          That wasn't the woodpecker! I think of the missed shot and turn back around. I hadn't gotten far before I see a Red-bellied Woodpecker take flight — and totally miss the shot.

          So I turn back around for the third time.

          The Winterberry tree isn't far and the vivid red among the muted colors of winter really stand out. This tree is loaded!

          The next stop on this walk-about was the pond. Spitfire ventured out onto the ice and I wondered if it was thick enough to support him, but I didn't worry. The pond is probably only about six inches deep at this time of year.

          Spitfire walked nonchalantly out onto the ice until — crack — and he froze. He waited for a few seconds then turned back to the shore.

          Cleo joined him on the ice. Would it support both their weights, I wondered but it did and without any complaints either.

          Cleo stopped, drank water from her shadow, and came off the ice. 

      Spitfire wasn't far behind her and stepped in the puddle Cleo had been drinking from. He shook the cold water from his foot.

          Everyone back on dry land, safe and sound, we headed for home.

          Early afternoon turned to mid and Mike was feeling a little better. "Wanna go to C.C. Allis?" he asked.

          "Sure," I readily agreed. We don't go there often so I thought I might get some pictures for you.

          "What's C.C. Allis?" you ask.

          The lumber yard. We still have it in our heads to build an awning off the kitchen door to keep the snow from it.

          Getting the corn in.

          It's easier to spot the hawks sitting in the trees in the winter, but still hard to get my camera to focus on them as we fly by.

          Cows.

          Barn quilt.

         

          At home, Mike backs Big Red up as far as the Yorkie fence and stops. When we start the awning we'll just pull the lumber from the truck as we need it. I go inside, get my sweater off, put water in the microwave for coffee, and look out to see Smudge snooping around. Cats are curious. Anything new appears and they all have to check it out.

          The next day, Mike was sick. Really sick. By the time I thought about calling the Kipps and telling them not to stop (so they wouldn't pick up Mike's germs) it was almost too late. In fact they might be out walking and wouldn't be home to answer my call even if I did call. I put on my sweater and hooked up the girls and we went out the back driveway to see if I could see them on the road.

          I didn't see them. Not in either direction.

          Rat-tat-tat.

          A woodpecker. Whether it was the same one from yesterday or another one, I didn't know, but I looked in the direction the sound was coming from and there he is.

          Now, because I'm shooting into the sky the foreground tends to be dark. I've lightened the photo so you can't really see the red on his head, but that along with the stripes on his wings and his size, say he's a Red-bellied Woodpecker.

          I had cats following me so I didn't want to go far but I walked down the road in front of our house. There's a bucket on the bank that's been living there for years and is making great progress in going back to nature.

          Luckily, by the time I got to our front driveway, no cars had passed us. I worry about the cats on the road and I know I shouldn't because they wander down there on their own anyway. I'd gotten to the top of the driveway, just to where it bends around the barn, looked back and spotted the florescent of Rosie's walking vest. The Kipps were coming. I went back down to the road and met them. The cats that had been following me disappeared quickly as they realized someone else was there.

          "Mike's really sick," I told Rosie and Lamar. "How about if we just visit while I walk with you today?"

          "Okay," Rosie replied.

          And we walked and we talked. We'd just gotten down to 'Daddy's machine shed' when we hear, "Meow. Meow, meow." One of the cats had followed.

          We kept walking and looking back and after a while we see Spitfire come out of the weeds.

          "I'm going to stay here so he doesn't come any further," Lamar said when we reached the Robinson's barn.

          Rosie took Maggie and we walked on down past the cabin where Kim lives. She does interesting landscaping and has a ladder standing against a tree as yard art.

          We turned around, walked back, and met Lamar where he waited at the barn.

          "Spitfire didn't show up?" I asked.

          "No," Lamar answered. "He didn't come this far."

          It isn't too far until we're back in front of my place and I spot a rat snake fritter. "It looks about the same size as the ones I found," I observed out loud. A few more steps and I spot a shell casing. "How does this get in the road?" I asked.

          "I don't know," Lamar answered.

          I see now, in my picture, that there's another rat snake fritter there with the shell casing.

          Spitfire heard us and came out of the weeds.

          "Hello Spitfire," Rosie greeted and bent to pet him.   

    

          "Who's house is that?" you ask.

          That is the neighbor across the road from us. The eldest and only Robinson daughter lives there with her husband, Charlie Kyle. After Sally came six Robinson boys, Jim, Jack, Joe, Jerry, Jon, and Dean. And now there are twenty-one more Robinson girls in three generations.

          With Mike being sick I was left to my own devices. I went in the wayback and sorted some boxes putting kitchen stuff in one stack and everything else in another stack. Then I got to work unpacking, sorting, and washing.

          I had a deep iron skillet with a lid sitting on top of my griddle and over the years they've bonded.

          Mike sprayed WD-40 between them and let them soak while he rested. An hour or so later he checked them but they still wouldn't come apart. More WD-40 and time, a good solid thunk and he got them apart. Then I went to work with steel wool, dish soap, and elbow grease. Once I get them clean I Googled it.

          Coat with any kind of oil, it said, bake upside down in a 350 degree oven for one hour, it said, and put aluminum foil on the rack below to catch the drippings, it said.

          I didn't call my mother to verify — my mistake.

          "I'm not sure vegetable oil was the thing to use," she said when I told her about it the next day.

          "The internet said any kind of oil and I had some vegetable oil here that I probably won't use," I justified, "so I used it."

          She was quiet.

          "And now my pans have a funky amber haze to them instead of deep, rich, black." Momma was still quiet. "Well?"

          "Peggy!" I've heard that tone before. She's exasperated with me. "I don't know what to tell you!"

          "Will they be okay or should I start over?"

          "I'd start over," is all she said.

          Well, maybe another day I will. For now they're protected from rust and I had boxes calling my name.

          Boy! Talk about treasures! I found stuff I didn't even know I had!

          I found Gizmo, a gremlin from the movie Gremlins. My ex, Gene, worked in a foundry and made the mold and poured an iron Gizmo. I don't really know how I happen to have him but if Kevin ever comes to visit, I'm going to load him up, and this is just the start.

    

      I found a can full of these magnets.

        I don't know what they were used for but I do know where they came from. Gene's father Jesse used to go to the dump with a couple of friends of his. They would scavenge and bring home all kinds of treasures. This was one of those. He used to bring home a lot of clocks too...

          Oh! That reminds me! Guess what I found?

          "Another clock?" you guess.

          And you would be right. Mike left his sickbed long enough to check it out. Twelve years of storage in less than optimal conditions didn't do it any favors and it doesn't work. I promised him that one day we would get ALL of his clocks fixed-up, tuned-up, and working right.

          Wednesday and Thursday Mike got sicker and sicker. At one point he was alternating between the sweats and shivering so hard I thought he'd rattle his teeth right out of his head.

          He had the flu.

          "You gave it to me," he opined.

          "No I didn't. I only had a cold and I was only down for one day!"

          With Mike down for the count, it gave me lots of time to sort through the kitchen boxes. I found the banana split bowls from when my kids were little.

        In another box were the milk shake or ice cream float glasses, along with some holiday wine glasses.

          "I think they were a give-away when you bought something someplace but I don't remember where anymore," I told Kandyce, my daughter-in-law. However, a quick search on eBay solves that mystery for me. These were from Arby's.

          Do you see those pretty green ones to the left of the float glasses? It seems to me they were a give-away too. So I Googled them and they also came up as being from Arby's, but not everyone on eBay says that though. Some just call them Libbey green wine water goblets with gold trim and never say they came from Arby's. I used to have four, I'm pretty sure, but there are only three now. If I break another one I'll have a set of two.

          I found the glass jars that Gene's mother used for storing dry goods, flour, sugar, noodles, that kind of stuff. I know you can buy these brand new today, but these were hers and the only thing I asked for when she passed away.

          And then, oh my gosh, and then I found boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff from when I had Peggy's Kitchen, a small dessert bakery I operated for about eight months one year. Yeah, I made enough to pay the bills but not enough to take a wage, so we closed it.

          "I bet I have six bundt pans!" I told my beautiful sister Phyllis in a morning email.

          "Are those the kind you make angel food cake in?" she asked.

          "Yeah, but I used them to make sticky buns." My cute little redheaded sister Diane had given me a recipe that used frozen yeast rolls and butterscotch pudding. They were really good when they were warm but not so much after they cooled off. Unless it was because I cooked them too long... who knows! It was so long ago I've forgotten.

          The next day, unpacking boxes, I found an angel food cake pan. They aren't quite the same as a bundt pan and as soon as I saw it I knew I'd told Phyllis wrong.

          "What are the prongs for?" you ask.

          Angel foods have to be cooled upside down to retain their height so the pans have these three prongs on them for just that purpose.

          I also found my pierogi cutter.

          "Wow!" you exclaim. "That's a big cutter!"

          It is! I don't fool around when I make pierogies. This will make five and a half inch rounds.

          I was wrong though. I don't have six bundt pans, I have four. However, I do have six muffin tins, and four cake pans, not counting the two I've carried with me all these years.

          And cookie sheets? I have six no-sticks for making pumpkin roll and at least that many heavy aluminum pans for cookies.

          I found four Pyrex pie plates plus I have three more that I've carried with me.

          Seven!

          I have seven pie plates!

          I smiled when I pulled out the McDonald's collector plates. I think the set had more than two but that was all I was able to get.

          I have two round cake keepers! The glass one was a gift from my mother (I think) and if you invert the stand and cover — you get a bowl!

          I have a terrible urge to make a round cake.

         

          Not all of the surprises were good. I found a lot of old plasticwear, some bought for food storage and some just repurposed; like butter bowls.

          I think I saved every Parkay butter bowl I've ever had — well, maybe not all but I saved quite a few, along with their lids.

          No one wants this stuff, including the recycler. "No butter dishes!" they say. So these vintage butter bowls will end up in a landfill somewhere.

          I found my two cheesecake pans. And I found a set of Wolfgang Puck 18-10 stainless mixing bowls with lids! I didn't even know I had these and I bet you that when I bought them more than 12 years ago, I didn't even know who Wolfgang Puck was!

          I have a brand new, never been opened, twelve piece cutlery set.

          Now I have two!

          And speaking of new, never been opened, I have the original Ginsu knives.

          Four more McDonald's collector plates came out of a box and brought a smile to my face. And a set of blue and white speckled enamelware. I call them cowboy plates and I bought a bunch of this stuff for my dad when he lived with me.

          I found my deep fryer.

          "Peg, it's nasty!" Mike said when he saw it. "Throw it away and buy a new one!"

          "Well, let me tell you something, mister! It can be cleaned up, but I'll probably never deep fry anything ever again in my whole life!" I steer clear of deep fried foods these days but who knows! Maybe I'll clean it up and make some homemade french fries, just for shits and grins, you know what I mean.

           Here's another give-away I found that I didn't know I had. Lord of the Rings light-up glass goblets from December 2001 (The date is embossed on the glass). These are from Burger King and when you open the box you have a code you can enter online.

          Silverware and other utensils are another thing I have too much of.

          "You'll have to make a chime from them like the one Marla bought me," Rosie Kipp said. "It makes the prettiest sound."

          My cute little brother Richard offered a different piece of advice. "Sell it. You could use the money."

          I've been to enough secondhand stores and flea markets to know that this kind of stuff doesn't bring anything, and that's if you can even find anyone willing to buy it. And a yard sale is a lot of work. No. My solution is to leave it to the kids.

          "Come and visit!" I begged Kevin and Kandyce, our son and his wife. "Bring the truck! You can have as much of this stuff as you want now. Either that or you can wait until I'm dead and deal with it then!"

          I've only shown you a few of the treasures that I've found. Look at the stack of boxes I unpacked!

          Being up to my elbows in dust and dishwater isn't the only thing I've done this past week. I made chicken soup for my flu-riddled husband. Is there anything better than homemade chicken noodle soup! I think not! And this time I didn't put potatoes in it.

          "Potatoes? In chicken soup?" you query.

          I know, right! That's what Mike said too! I like potatoes — maybe even love them! Putting them in this dish reminds me of the wonderful chicken potpies my mom and dad used to make.

          "Isn't chicken potpie made in a pie crust?" you say.

          Not the way we made it. It did, however, use a square noodle called, ironically, potpie noodles.

          Then I made bone broth with the chicken carcass.

          Have you ever made bone broth?

          I Googled it and the website I was perusing said she saved all the ends from her celery, carrot peels, and even the outer skin of her onions — all the things you would normally throw away — in her freezer to use when she made her bone broth.

          "Onion peels!" I told Momma during one of our daily chats. "Is there any nutrition in the onion peel?"

          "I don't know but I wouldn't use it," she said.

          I didn't use vegetable scraps, I used the good stuff, but maybe next time I'll try it. I like the idea of not wasting anything if I don't have to. The recipe also calls for garlic and vinegar. Don't worry, you won't taste the vinegar, the website said. But you could smell it as it simmered in the slow cooker for 18 to 72 hours. I simmered mine somewhere around 18 hours and after the garlic, you can't taste the vinegar.

          Another day, another walk-about and Cleopatra and Rascal followed me. At the pond, the skim of ice was too fragile to support Cleo's weight as she stepped on and promptly broke through. She pulled her paw back, moved over a few inches, and tried the ice again, with the same result.

  

 

         Cleo thought she'd get on a branch that overhung the pond, 

but it was a pretty skinny branch and she fell off, getting her feet wet.

          She gave up and came back to dry land.

          Rascal just watched as Cleo failed to gain the ice. I guess he figured if she made it, then he would give it a try. And I understand that.

          Once, a hundred years and two lifetimes ago, a big sister put her little sister on a Shetland pony named Brandy. If she can ride her then I can ride her too, thought the big sister. Only Brandy didn't like to be ridden and promptly bucked the little sister off. Luckily, no one was hurt that day and the experiment was never repeated.

          Checking our mailbox was another task that fell to me while Mike was sick. One day I see a rock propped up against the front of the box. I looked twice but didn't think too much about it. The next day, checking the mail, the leaves that had concealed a slice of pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top, had blown away.

          A painted rock! I thought. Someone left me a painted rock! How sweet!

          Painting rocks has been all the rage lately. Families everywhere gather together and paint rocks. Then they take them about town and put them in places for people to find, hoping to brighten their day. They even have websites devoted to painting rocks.

          You can keep the rock, if you want to, the website says, or you can re-home it in another place for someone else to find.

          I've seen other painted rocks and sometimes I take their picture, like I did on this day when I saw these on a curb outside of Lowe's, but I've never picked any up or re-homed any.

          I guess someone thought I needed a painted rock. I brought it up to the house and put it just outside the kitchen door where I see it often, and smile.

          Thank you to whoever left if for me.

          That cat!

          That darn cat!

          Yeah, we be talkin' bout that Smudge!

          Getting ready for bed one night, he heard me in the kitchen and climbed the screen.

          The next morning, when he hears me get up, he climbs the screen again!

          "He'll ruin that screen, Peg!" Mike says like I didn't already know that.

          I cleared the windowsill, put the window up and took the screen out.

          We'll end with a couple of sunrise photos.

          Let's call this one done!