Now We're Cookin'!

 

          “Peg, what’s cookin’?” you ask.

          I’m so glad you asked!

          I made a new favorite, an old favorite, and dug an antique out of storage to cook on.

          My new favorite is Butter Swim Biscuits. They’re aptly named because you melt a stick of butter and pour it in the pan before adding the biscuit dough. Once the dough is spread in the pan, you’re to take your spatula and divide the dough into nine. My dough didn’t stay divided and it didn’t seem to make a difference. The recipe is easy and man-o-man! Are they yummy!

          My old favorite is cousin Stacey’s Mac and Cheese recipe. This time though, I added chunked up ham to make it a meal. There was enough left over to put individual portions in the freezer for later consumption.

          And my antique?

          My twenty-year-old George Foreman grill. Mike was wanting hamburgers and didn’t want to do them on the grill. I could’ve done them in my NuWave but happened to see the George Foreman the other day when I was poking around our stockpile of stored treasures. I even had the book!

          “Peg, they look a little over-done,” you say.

          I know, right! They are — were. I followed the timetable in the book. When I put the last three on, I decreased the cooking time and they were better. Next time I think I’ll cut the temperature down too — if there is a next time.

          “What’s cookin’ in your craft shop?” you ask.

          Oh my gosh! First, let me tell you what I did.

          I love working with the tin cans to make flowers and spinners. I just love it but I’m limited to the size of flower I can make by the size cans I use.

          “Don’t they sell juice in tall cans?” I asked Mike.

          “I think they used to but I think everything’s gone to plastic now.”

          The other day at the store, I strolled down the juice aisle and sure enough, almost everything is in plastic jugs. Then I spied, on the bottom shelf at the very end of the row, pineapple juice and V-8 in cans. I snagged one each. Purchased, bagged, and in the seat of the cart, I head out to where Mike waited in the car for me and wouldn’t you know it! The dang things worked their way out of the leg holes and landed right on my big toe!

          OW! It hurt!

          I was wishing for steel toe shoes right about then.

          It hurt all the way home but after a while it quit and I didn’t notice it anymore. In fact, it was two days later before I thought to look at my toe. It’s surprising it hasn’t bothered me more and it’s only slightly bruised.

          I drank the juice and turned the can into this lovely for my beautiful sister. I originally planned to make it five layers deep but couldn’t get a grommet in so it’s only four.

          Another beautiful, and goofy, lady in my life is my friend Jody.          

         She wanted to learn to make these flowers so we spent a couple of hours making one. I worked on Phyllis’s spinner while Jody just wanted to make a flower. I can’t say I disagree with her choice. Phyllis’s spinner won’t spin — but it’ll still be a pretty flower.

          We put a base coat on her flower with spray paint but if she wants details, she’ll have to add them later. Our playtime was up for the day. I thought Jody’s design interesting as she twisted some of her petals.

          I haven’t figured out why some of my tin can spinners spin and some don’t. And those that do spin need a stiff wind to get them moving whereas the ones I make from vinyl and aluminum are much lighter and don’t take much wind at all.

          My Miss Rosie had one that won’t spin. So, this week I made an aluminum pinwheel to adorn the opposite side of the post. If one won’t spin, we’ll make one that will!

          When Mike and I got there to put up the new pinwheel for her, we found her ‘stem’ was wilting. It needed a few whacks with a hammer. Miss Rosie and Tux stepped out on the porch. “Miss Rosie!” I yelled. “We need a hammer!”

          “Okay,” she said, turned Tux lose, who bounded down to greet us, and went in for a hammer.

          Mike reseated the post and added the new spinner.

          While I was there, I decided to see how one of her other spinners was doing, namely, how the paint job was holding up. It isn’t. It’s cracking and starting to flake away. The paint seems to hold onto the tin cans well but not the vinyl.

          Miss Rosie can enjoy this one until he needs a makeover, then we’ll spray paint it. The vinyl ones that I spray painted are holding up much better.

          Leaving Miss Rosie and Tux, I turned and snapped a picture. Miss Rosie tickles me as she waves with the hammer in her hand.

          I enjoy my spinners. I love to look out and see them spinning in the wind. I’m a little sad when I look out and there’s no wind.

          You may notice my yard looks a little different. The spinners aren’t all bunched up in one place. Mowing season is upon us and I had to rehome them. Some are on the post that supports our sideways growing tree, and some are on the fences. A couple could stay where they were because they’re in the middle of my flower beds.

        Then I see one is wobbling in the wind. I investigated and discovered the spinner had worked its way off the plastic bushing. At first, I thought the hot glue had let go, then realized this was one of the first one’s I’d made and hadn’t glued the spinner to the bushing. Hopefully the ones I did after this, where I did glue it to the bushing, will hold up.

          I’m experimenting with a different material. Instead of the bushing and hard plastic tube, I bought half-inch plastic tubing.

          “Peg, why don’t you use copper tubing?” you ask.

          It’s a lot more expensive.

          Mike, bless his heart, investigated using a threaded tube. Then I could use a nut to hold the spinner in place. And he’d get it for me too, if I’d let him. “I’m just giving these away,” I pointed out. “If I was trying to sell them then I’d definitely invest more in them.”

           I teased you last time with an idea I had to use the heavier metal sheeting that Jody had given me. My week was passing fast but late Friday afternoon I made a special point to throw one together just so I could show you.

           I used my soap dish to shape the petals as evenly as I could. A little rubbing alcohol erased my lines when I didn’t need them anymore. 

          I cut it out and bent the petals both in and sideways. Then I hurriedly cut a couple of cat food cans for inside interest. If I hadn’t’ve been so anxious to show you my idea, a coat of paint would really make it pop. I know I promised Jody the first one, but unless she wants to paint it, I’ll give her the next one.

          “Does it spin?” you wanna know.

          It does! But it takes a lot of wind to spin it. It’s heavy. I’m toying with the idea of maybe trying to ‘cup’ the petals to see if it would catch the wind better that way. It’s a learning process and I’m just at the beginning. Where will this take me? Who knows.

          The only other project I finished this week was to fix Miss Rosie’s rooster. He broke his leg. I collected him and on the way home I broke one of his toes off. Then I broke his other leg! OY! But he’s all fixed now and hanging back in his home over Miss Rosie’s table.

          “What’s cookin’ in nature?” you ask.

          Well, the henbit is out but I didn’t get a picture of that. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve mentioned it. The violets are blooming.         

            And my yard is full of the most beautiful little yellow flowers!

“Peg! Those are dandelions!”

So they are! 

          Our rhododendron bush is blooming too.  

          All the trees are blooming in the little town of Laceyville.

          And I think this tree with two different kinds of blooms is interesting. “I bet they grafted them together.” Someday I’m gonna stop and get a closer look. 

            And just so we know who’s in charge, Mother Nature threw a blast of fluffy white stuff at us. 

            We took a ride out in the country so I could make road pictures for you. 

The snow didn’t stay long but you can still see it in places.

          Once Mother Nature established her dominance, the temps rose, seemingly overnight, and I hung my first load of laundry on the clothesline.

           Tiger!

          Tiger, Tiger, Tiger!

          That cat!

          I don’t know how many mice he’s caught and eaten this week.          

              I’m not really keeping track because it’s old news. What is new news is that he got a bird. “Let me see it,” I demanded. I could tell by the quick glimpse I got that it wasn’t one I knew. Tiger ran. I followed and kept begging him to, “Just let me look!” Finally, he did let me look. Then I told him he was a good boy and let him keep his bird. Consulting my bird book, I think this is an Eastern Towhee. It made me sad to read that their numbers are more rapidly declining than any other bird. And more sad when I saw he didn’t eat it either.

           Old pictures of Dushore came up on my Facebook feed. This Ben Franklin store was in the building that now houses the Jolley Trolley. I sent the old pictures to my oldest and much-adored sister Patti. She remembers the old Ben Franklin. “And I’m pretty sure that’s Bill Sick, the owner, standing in front,” she told me.

          I don’t know when Bill died but his wife died just four years ago at the age of 98. Reading Lucy’s obit, I found out that they opened their pool every summer to the kids so they could learn to swim. How cool is that!

          Let’s call this one done!

Flowers

 

          Flowers all over the place!

          In the yard, the Forsythia is blooming. They’ve been blooming for a couple of weeks now in our area but I’d rather wait and show you mine, which are just starting to open.

          And the same is true with the Bradford Pear. The trees in town are beautiful, full of white blooms, and our trees here on the mountain are just starting to open.

          With the Bradford Pear, you can’t judge a bloom by its looks. You’d think with a fruit in its name that they’d be sweet-smelling. They aren’t. They stink.

          They’re also invasive. They multiply ferociously and crowd out native species. The trees are unfriendly to insects, even helpful ones. They grow even in poor conditions, and proliferate fast — thanks to birds that dine on its fruit and spread the seeds.

          This one isn’t a flower, it’s a gall caused by Cedar-Apple Rust, a disease that spreads between junipers and — you guessed it, apple trees. After a rain the tendrils become engorged and gelatinous. That’s when it releases spores that travel to the apple tree. The way to get rid of it is to get rid of one of the host trees because it requires both of them to live.

          Boxelder Tree. We have several of them. The trees are always all male or all female. Boxelder is a maple tree and only the female produces ‘helicopters’ called samaras. The Boxelder Bug is attracted to just the female tree.

          “Since it’s a maple, can you make syrup from it?” you wanna know.

          And the answer is yes, you can. Whereas it takes about 40 gallons of sap from a sugar maple to make one gallon of syrup, it takes about 60 gallons of boxelder sap.

          Nature’s flowers aren’t the only flowers blooming around here! This creation was made for my Miss Rosie. This time I added a ‘sail’ so it spins — and spin it does! I tested it!

          I think she likes it!

          Mike and I sat and visited with the Kipps for a while when I delivered it. And this guy couldn’t take his eyes off me.

“What’s up with that?” you ask.

          Tux likes my Starlight mints. I generally have one or two in my pocket and he knows it. I think he can smell them.

          “Okay, Tux,” I said and popped a mint into my mouth. When it was quite a bit smaller I gave it to him, and he happily crunched it. “If you want him to pay attention to you,” I told Lamar, “just suck on a mint!”

          I made and painted a vinyl spinner for my beautiful friend Jody. “I’ve got about three places I could put one if you’ll make me one,” she told me after church last week.

          I can make these in a breeze, so to speak, but painting them is time consuming. And since it’s on vinyl, I don’t know how long the paint will last. “You’ll have to be my guinea pig,” I told her.

          And since it didn’t take long to make, and since I had to wait for paint to dry, and since she had three places, and since I wanted to make more, I made a tin can flower for Jody too. But this one is special.

          “Why’s it special?” you ask.

          It’s special because it’s the first one I made with my new hole punching kit my handsome husband bought me.

          Now my center holes are nice and neat and can be punched out in a fraction of the time it took me to ‘whittle’ one out.

          Since Jody had three places, and since I wanted to make another one, and since she said, “I like all the whirligigs. My favorite is the purple and green one. I love the way it spins,” I made her a four-vaned, aluminum pinwheel.

          The purple and green one she’s referring to is actually two spinners back-to-back on the same post. They spin at different times in different directions. A happy accident since I was just looking to put the pinwheel up some place and that was the place I chose. But y’all can go on thinking I’d planned it that way. I put Jody’s tin flower and aluminum spinner back-to-back on the same post. If the flower never spins, it’ll still be pretty and I did twist the thicker petals a little hoping it would.

          “I don’t like them on the same post,” Mike said.

          “That’s okay. If Jody doesn’t like it, she can take if off and put it someplace else.”

          “Did she like them?”

          Did she like them? Did she like them! I’d say she liked them!

          “They’re beautiful!” she said.

          I grinned.

          Then I had her hold them so I could take another picture.

          The rain, which was drizzling on and off all day, was currently off. “Let’s go plant them,” I suggested.

          Jody grabbed her hammer. “I think I want to put’em in my garden. Maybe they’ll keep the birds away.”
          “Lots of luck with that,” I told her. “Miss Rosie has hers right by her feeder and it doesn’t bother the birds at all.”

          “Well, I’ll be able to see them from my office window so I’ll put them there anyway.”

          I held one and Jody held one as we made our way around the house to the garden. “It spins!” I exclaimed. I’d just, and I mean just, put them on the post before we went out the door to deliver them so I hadn’t tested them. The tin can flower will spin!

          I didn’t leave Jody’s empty handed. She gave me a gift too!

          I opened the pretty enameled purple box to reveal a skull.

          “It’s a muskrat skull,” she explained.

          I love it! Jody totally gets me!

          If that’s all she’d given me I’d’ve counted myself one lucky girl, but it wasn’t. She gave me some leftover metal roof flashing too.

          “It’s thicker than the aluminum,” I told her. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to bend it.”

          “Take it anyway,” she urged.

          I’m glad I did. After a while a picture pops in my head. A picture of a way to use this thicker aluminum. I’m not going to tell you my plans right now. I don’t want to jinx it. You’ll just have to wait and see what I do with it. And in honor of giving me the flashing, Jody gets the first acceptable one I make. I’m sure she can find a place to put it.

          On the way home, Mike had to turn around for me so I could get this picture. This poor donkey had climbed into a stock trailer that was left in the barnyard to get out of the rain.

          My oldest and much-adored sister Patti called me after reading last week’s letter blog. “The wind is a fickle thing,” she told me. “It can change direction or simply die out. You’d be lucky to catch all your spinners spinning at once. I can see you out there moving them around, trying to find a spot where they all spin!” she laughed.

          And I laughed too! I could see me out there doing that too. But I didn’t. I just stuck them in the ground where I could see them from my kitchen window.

          “And I was wondering why you’re having such a hard time putting your cans together.”

          After we talked about it for a few minutes, she had a suggestion for me, a suggestion Mike’s already suggested, and I dismissed. “Why don’t you use rivets?”

          “I don’t want the heads of rivets sticking out,” I told her. In my mind’s eye I could see the ends of the pop rivets sticking out all over the place and that would ruin the look. Maybe I could make it work…

          “Peg! Rivets come in different styles! They don’t all have those long heads on them.”

          “I’ll check into it,” I assured her.

          In my box with my hole punches was a box of rivets Mike ordered for me. We used the included hole punch, then joined two pieces of scrap together. I think it’ll work! This is a game-changer, folks and I can’t wait to give it a try.

          Speaking of my beautiful sister, Patti’s in the hospital.

          “What happened?” you gasp.

          “I missed the last step on the step ladder, came straight down on my leg with all my weight. The crack noise was loud like a tree branch breaking. I was on the patio and had to crawl about 20 feet to the phone for 911.”

“I avoid ladders when I’m home for that reason,” my handsome brother David responded. “I’ve stepped off a ladder too soon. Luckily nothing happened — but I was YOUNGER. Love you sis, and pray for a fast recovery.”

Patti will have to undergo at least two surgeries. She’s already had one and the other one will take place when the swelling goes down. She sent a picture.

The next morning, we get this message from her. “Good morning everybody. I had a pretty good night until I used the walker to go to the bathroom. That was enough to set the pain off. This morning I used the bedside potty. I think they're going to decide today whether I stay here or go to rehab while we're waiting for the swelling to go down enough for the second surgery to actually fix it. The fix is a plate and screws on both sides of the tibia. Doc says it's going to be an 8- to 12-week recovery because the break is so close to the kneecap.”

          David tickles me. In his reply he tells Patti, “The word of the day is SLOW.”

          I can’t wait to see what tomorrow’s word of the day is! I have a feeling Patti didn’t really need to be reminded to go slow. She’s a smart cookie. But one thing she can use, one thing we can all use, is prayers. Let’s pray she has a fast and easy recovery with no lingering effects.

          “Peg, with all the rain you’ve been having, have you been able to finish your roof?” you ask.

          Nope. Mike wants — needs — several dry days in a row before we start and I don’t see any of those forecasted for next week. But Mike has started an inside project to keep himself busy. He’s working on the exercise studio — not that I’m fat or anything. I am and I can’t wait to start having my girls over for exercise class. We keep each other accountable.

          The room is about nineteen by nineteen and I know it won’t be big enough if we try to put all of our equipment in there. Mike needs the weight machine, the treadmill might come in handy too, but I need floor space so at least two of us can work out to a video. Instead of one class with four girls, I can have individual classes with the days and times to suit my girls.

          The floor was very uneven and a trip hazard, so, the first order of business was to get a subfloor down.

          “You always get a picture of me sitting, doing nothing,” Mike says.

          “That’s the only time I can take a picture,” I reminded him. “Otherwise, I’m busy helping you.”

          There’s a lot to be done and it’s going to take a while but at least the project is started.

          We made a shopping trip this week. We really try to stay home because whenever we go out, we end up spending money.  

          I’ve been told the eagles at Ulster have an eaglet. But we weren’t going that direction, we were going the other direction to Tunkhannock and I know there’s an eagle’s nest somewhere by Mark’s Valley View. I had Mike pull off where I thought it might be but I didn’t see it. I did, however, see this guy. Not the best picture but I consider any picture I take of an eagle good enough to show.

          “Look at all the blossoms!” All along the road there were lots of white trees. “I bet they’re Bradford Pear Trees and that’s why they’re considered invasive.” When there was a pull-off, Mike pulled off and I confirmed my suspicion. They are pear trees.

          There was a lot of Forsythia too, especially right as we were getting into town.

          Our first stop was Burger King. Mike’s been doing a comparison of chicken sandwiches at the chain burger joints. So far McDonald’s new Crispy Chicken is his favorite.

          In the drive thru lane, we were behind this smokin’ gal. That led us to a discussion about why anyone would smoke in this day and age and more importantly, how can they afford it! A pack of cigarettes is eight or nine bucks and who smokes just one pack a day?

          We came out of Walmart with the sky swirling with dark clouds.

          We weren’t entirely surprised when the sky opened up and poured on us.

          But we soon drove out of it.

          Tiger!

          Tiger, Tiger, Tiger!

          He’s becoming a mighty hunter and has gotten three big fat juicy mice this week. Two of them were heaved up on the bedroom floor in the middle of the night. The other one he’d eaten early enough in the day that he purged the fur before he came in for the night.

          “This is getting old,” Mike complained. “I don’t like to be woken up. You know how hard it is for me to get back to sleep.”

          I’ve never noticed that Mr. Cranky Pants ever had any problem going to sleep since he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow or shortly thereafter. And he nods off all day long while he’s watching TV. But I agreed with him. “I know, right! Especially since I’m the one who has to clean it up. But what are ya gonna do? He caught it; he deserves to eat it if he wants to.”

          “Keep him outside at night,” Mr. Cranky Pants says.

          “I’m not going to do that,” is my final word.

          Tiger did let me see his catch. I cooed to him, he dropped it, and then I patted him on his head and told him what a good boy he was. “I wish he’d catch the ones inside the house,” I told my Miss Rosie.

          “Yeah, but he’s getting them before they come in the house,” she pointed out.  

          And Mr. Mister.

          Poor Mr. I went out to feed him one morning and he came out of the feral cat house on the kitchen patio looking like he’d gotten mud dreadlocks in the night. He was covered and caked with mud and it was almost dry.

          I was apprehensive about what I had to do but I just had to do it. I couldn’t leave him like this. How would he tolerate a bath? I didn’t know.

I always handle Mr. Mister with respect. I’m fully aware that he’s a fightin’ tom and could tear me to ribbons if he so desired.

I brought the water in the sink up to warm and went for him. He didn’t struggle or squirm as I carried him in and put him in the sink. He wasn’t crazy about the running water, kept grabbing the edge of the counter and tried to pull himself out. I just kept talking to him. “Hold on,” I say, put my hand on his chest and push him back under the warm stream. “Doesn’t that feel nice?” I cooed. I don’t think he agreed and kept trying to get out. I cooled the water a little more and kept talking and ladling water over his shoulders with my hands since I couldn’t get him any further under the stream. I was afraid to try the sprayer. I was afraid it would freak him out, but eventually I had to try since I needed to rinse his belly. And that’s when I realized there wasn’t much mud on his belly. That tells me he was upside down in the mud. Eventually, he got maneuvered around until his head was butted against my belly and he seemed calmest that way. Too bad I didn’t know that from the get-go. I didn’t use any soap, just rinsed out what I could and he was absolutely stellar. I think I heard one tiny little growl out of him when I first started but that was it. And he never tried to scratch or bite me.

          Judging by the mud left on the towel when I dried him, I’d say I didn’t come close to getting all the mud off him, but this I know. It was a vast improvement!

          Mr. spent the next few hours in the sun, getting dry...

 ...and I had a sink to scrub.

          “That’s really not good for the pipes,” Mike informs me. “The dirt sinks to the bottom and stays there.”

          I felt bad. I don’t want to hurt my pipes but I couldn’t leave Mr. in that condition. Mike hasn’t turned on the outside water yet and he won’t until the threat of freezing is past.  

          The next day I checked Mr. and felt a few clumps of mud I’d missed and I also spotted a rip in his ear. I’d almost bet he was fighting with another tom and the other tom was getting the best of him.

          Then Lamar gave me cause to pause.

          “My Grandma Maude was one of the nicest people God ever created. Back in the days of yore, she had a little Scotty dog named Skip. There was a rattlesnake ready to strike her when the dog ran in and killed the snake. Then Skip ran off and was gone for two weeks. When he came back, he was covered in mud. They figured the dog knew the mud would draw the poison out.”

          That’s pretty smart, is what I think. Is that what happened here? I guess I don’t know for sure.

          One thing I do know for sure is you’re all in my heart.

          Let’s call this one done!