Tricks-n-Treats

Happy Halloween Weekend, Y’all!

This is a picture my Husband texted me early last week:

Wonder who could have done such a horrible thing to an innocent pumpkin?

Could it be this little man?

Yep.  Guilty as charged.  Don’t let his “Who?  Me?” face fool you.

Henry now has a new nickname:

Peter, Peter, the Pumpkin Eater

I think it suits him quite well.

In the spirit of all things punkin’, I thought I would share a de-fright-fully (tee hee hee) delicious recipe I discovered last week.  I made it this morning.  It’s definitely one of the quintessential FALL recipes you should have in your repertoire.  Y’all, try this soon.  I think it would be extra yummy on Turkey Day morning.

Bon appetit!

Pumpkin Coffee Cake with Brown Sugar Glaze

Image and Recipe via Tasty Kitchen

Ingredients:

⅓ cups Water

1 can Pureed Pumpkin (15 ounces)

2 Eggs

1 Tablespoon Vanilla Extract

2 teaspoons Pumpkin Pie Spice

1 box Yellow Cake Mix

1 teaspoon Baking Soda

1 cup Brown Sugar, divided

½ cups Flour

⅓ cups Walnuts, chopped

4 Tablespoons Butter, melted

¼ cups Granulated Sugar

1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

¼ cups Heavy Whipping Cream

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

In a large bowl, mix together the water, pumpkin, eggs, 1 Tablespoon of vanilla, and pumpkin pie spice.  Add the cake mix and baking soda and mix until just combined.

Grease a 9×13 pan with butter and pour in the batter.

In a small bowl, mix together 1/2 cup of brown sugar, 1/2 cup flour, walnuts, and melted butter.  Use fingers to sprinkle over the top of the cake.

Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

For the glaze, combine the other 1/2 cup brown sugar, granulated sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla, and heavy cream in a saucepan and bring to a simmer.

Remove from heat and stir until all sugar is dissolved.

When cake is finished baking, poke holes in the top with a toothpick.  Pour glaze over the cake, making sure to cover all surfaces.

Serve cake warm or at room temperature.

Rhode Trip

I think I’ve finally recovered enough from our trip to Rhode Island to share a few highlights and observations. The full story will take about four installments over the next three or so weeks. (Hey, now listen, at least this isn’t the 50s or 60s—where I would invite you to my house on the pretense of fixing you dinner, but instead give you a few snacks and make you watch three hours of 8mm “home” movies.)

I’ve revealed some “issues” Hubby and I have had on past trips. (Click on the link!) This time we had five months (and over 33 years of marriage) to prepare for the longest-distanced trip we would make in our life together. Until we left on October 5^th, the fartherest (a new ELC word denoting even farther than farther—feel free to use) we’d driven had been to the top of Montana—Glacier National Park—from our home in Texas. Worth every single mile.

Here’s the way it works at our house (see if you can relate):

We make a decision to go somewhere (could be four hours away—or over 1800 miles). I sit back and wait for the time to draw near. I’m responsible for getting all laundry washed and dry cleaning taken and picked up. I straighten the house (on the slight chance something unforeseen happens and someone—TLC?—has to come in—wouldn't want the word to get around I’m actually not The World’s Most Incredible Hazel). I do half of my packing the night before. The remainder? Next morning. (Or as Hubby likes to call it: The Last Minute.) If it’s a short trip (3 nights or less), I pack the day we’re leaving. Even if it means getting up at 3:00 a.m. It’s the way I roll. I’m not saying it’s smart. I’m saying it works for me because I know I can—and will—sleep in the car. Believe me.

Hubby, on the other hand, talks about an upcoming trip for days (or weeks—depending on where we’re going). If our destination is somewhere we’ve never been, he orders maps, individual State “books” and TripTiks from AAA (AAA = one of the best investments you’ll ever make—and I get no compensation for promoting them, darnnit!) well in advance. He goes on-line and looks up "stuff"—from hotels and restaurants to what the weather is and/or will be like at our destination. He reads a bazillion “reviews and comments.” He starts planning what he’ll pack (except for coats—he never, ever, ever wants to take any kind of coat—or gloves—or any kind of hat other than a ballcap—even in the winter—because this VERY smart man forgets the places we’re traveling to may not have weather like Texas—sheesh). At least three days before the trip, he’ll get his bags out to start fillin’ ‘em up. He'll be packed and ready (except for a few items that will be put in his dob kit) the night before. Done. In bed and asleep by 9:00 p.m.

Two days before we leave, he’ll start questioning me with major intensity. Like he’s a detective and I’ve committed a crime. All he needs are those bright lights to shine in my eyes while asking: “When are you going to pack? Do you have your bags ready? What time will you be getting all your clothes together? Do you know we’re leaving at (fill-in-the-blank time) o’clock in two days (or "in the morning")? Why haven’t you started putting your clothes in your bags? Is all your laundry done? Why do you always put this off until the last minute?” He’s a silly one, that Man O’ Mine.

Am I ungrateful to be married to an organized man? NO. Not at all. Quite the opposite. I am EXTREMELY appreciative of the fact he’s a “detail” person—dependable, energetic, enthusiastic, concerned, and responsible. I’m just along for the ride! We (and when I say "we" I mean "I") embrace our differences and make them work—for us. (It occurs to me that my descriptions may be the opposite for you and your significant other. Usually one is organized—the other not so much. Yin and Yang. It’s all about balance. It's all okay.)

This Rhode Island Road Trip seemed like a FABULOUS idea last April. Hubby had a meeting to attend in Newport for two days. In discussing possible flight scenarios, I became a teensy bit… ummm… worried. I was willing to fly non-stop to New York and then get a rental car for the trip to Newport. I was NOT willing to go on three different planes to get to our destination. A long story for a later date, perhaps. Suffice it to say I have become uninterested in flying—unless completely necessary. Somehow we came to the conclusion it’d be fun and/or interesting to drive. We’d take our time on the way up. We’d go through states we’d never been to before. It’d be memorable. We had faith we could do it—and live to tell about it.

The day before we were to leave, Hubby informed me he’d be at his office in our Barn apartment "for awhile." Downloading some info for his GPS. Oh, Lordy. That “Nina” woman. (Click on the link!) For ten days. Instead of throwing a hissy-fit, I decided to wait for her to drive me to The Edge of Insanity. Then I'd kindly request she be terminated.

I made Hubby happy happy (and possibly suspicious) by having most of my packing done by the time we went to bed the night before our departure. We left at 6:00 a.m. on a Wednesday. (I reminded him to get his coat—as we walked out the door—a coat, by the way, he never used.) Our first goal was to get to Nashville at a reasonable hour that night. If possible. And without pushing so hard we would be totally exhausted. Oh, and cranky. As we drove away from our gate, I noticed it. The GPS. (Primarily because he was engrossed in pushing buttons as we headed down the road. Evidently he had forgotten how to get to Dallas. A trip he’s made one zillion times in his 67 years.) I became transfixed with it. Why did it look different? It finally hit me.

“Is that the GPS you’ve always had?” I sweetly asked.

Then came the look. That look that says: Uh-oh. My purchase has been discovered. That look men have been giving to their mothers, grandmothers, teachers, girlfriends and wives since time began. That look of sheer and utter innocense (or fear, if applicable).

“You know it’s not. I told you I ordered a new GPS for this trip. I couldn’t update all the new technology to the older one. You don’t remember that discussion?”

No, no I didn’t. Because I’m pretty sure it never occurred. And, guess what? The new model might have cutting-age (yes, not “edge”—this is also an ELC term to be used by Us Geezers trying to keep up with You Younguns) technology, but Scary Nina is still in that little box. Why couldn’t they have at least used a man’s voice this time—someone, oh, I don’t know, like Sean Connery? I politely (yep, stickin’ with that) asked him to be ready to turn her voice off at a second’s notice. He agreed. Actually, he only ended up listening to the hideously annoying woman (not me) a couple of times during our entire trip. Bless his heart. I will confess she was helpful—for a few minutes. In a couple of states. However, coming home she messed us up royally. Took us 45 minutes out of our way—in 7:30 a.m. spine-tinglingly (ELC's way to convey extraordinary tinglingness. And the bonus? It sounds tres Halloween-y.) hideous Connecticut traffic. I won’t tell you what I called Evil Nina. It's not ladylike.

Stay tuned for Rhode Trip—Part 2 or ELC’s Whiskey and Chocolate Tour! It gets more exciting by the day. Or not. You be the Judge.

p.s. For other cute thoughts on packing, please enjoy The Piggy Lounge’s Kacy and her funny On My Mind! (Click on the link!)

Everybody’s Workin’ For The Weekend

In keeping with ELC’s song title theme, I thought I might give y’all a little weekend recap.  Well, actually a little Saturday recap.  The rest of our weekend was spent watching the Texas Rangers, doing laundry, playing with the pups, and preparing for Just Another Manic Monday.  Tee hee hee.  I’m on a roll, aren’t I?  Okay.  I’ll stop.

The highlights:

1.  Cheesecake Factory (our favourite) now has a “Skinnylicious Menu.”  This might seem really exciting, but ELC and I couldn’t stop ourselves from giggling when several of the dishes featured were said to have less than 590 calories.  Hmmm.  LOL.  We each ended up with the "Skinny" Chopped Salad that was out-of-this-world yummy.  AND, since we had saved so many calories, we decided we could splurge on a piece of their incredible Pumpkin Cheesecake.  Oh, yes.  We did.  That's completely logical, right?  No?  We heart Cheesecake Factory.

(P.S. Pumpkin is a veggie.  Therefore, we’re fairly certain Dr. Dukan would have approved of this treat.)

2.  We found the most precious PINK GLITTER TOMS for the youngest of my sweet nieces.  Y’all – you cannot believe the adorableness of these teeny tiny shoes.  They are beyond. We heart TOMS.  In fact, we finished all seven of the grandkids’ Christmas shopping.  We are totally those chicks that start in September.  We can't help ourselves.

3.  As we were leaving Nordstrom, I was drawn, mysteriously and (almost) magnetically, to the shoes.  I tried desperately to walk away.  (Did that sound convincing?)  ELC did her best to wisk me out of the store. However, this particular pair kept calling my name.  I know it’s hard to tell from the picture, but they are chocolate brown and, quite possibly, the most divine shoes in the whole world.  Amen.  I heart Nordstrom.

In addition to lots of power shopping, pedicures, and pumpkin cheesecake, we shared an endless amount of laughs and pure merriment.  I love every second I get to spend with my sweet ELC.  She’s my very best friend.  She positively rocks.  I just wish I could see her and my Dad more often.  Darn the distance. 

I hope all of y’all had a lovely weekend, as well!

Don’t forget:  GO RANGERS!

T-T-T Teddy and the Cats

{After Hubby read this, I said: "Did you get the title?" This is a man who has loved Elton John's music, including Bennie and the Jets, for as long as I've known him. That's getting close to 35 years. He just stared at me. I could almost see the little wheels in his brain searching frantically for an answer. I patiently (yes, I'm going with that) cued: "Elton's song, B-B-B Bennie and the Jets?" "Ohhh... right...," he slowly answered. No. He still didn't get it. I know him. Hope y'all did.}

Before I begin my “Stories of the Road” (Island! Ha!), I wanted to back up a bit and fill y’all in on our Teddy Buddy Boo Bear. You’ve seen a few pictures of him, but I haven’t shared how he came to live with us. Hope you don’t mind humoring me. Once again.

We adopted a funny/precious/awesome-year-old Basset Hound named Junior soon after Hubby and I married. We loved and cared for him until he was twelve. He got very sick and we were forced to have him put to sleep. With broken hearts, we buried him in the backyard of the home we lived in for twenty-two years. When we moved to the country eleven years ago, it was not only hard to drive away from all those memories, but also from Junior. We made the decision to stick exclusively with cats about fifteen years ago, after having a couple of difficult post-Junior dog experiences.

Our first cat (who Hubby alleged was under a bush in our front yard early one morning as he left for work—I never was completely convinced about that tale)—was named, by 4-year-old TLC, Crystal. We had Crystal for eight years. When she died, we got a cat from one of TLC’s school friends that became Keegan (after Andrew). Keegan was a 6-toed female cat with an interesting personality. Five years later, as we prepared to move Out to the Sticks, we got another kitten, this time a male, from, yep, one of TLC’s friends. She named him Cobbler. We didn’t want Keegan to be alone at a totally new, and possibly scary, place. Keegan was somewhat annoyed that she had to put up with this brash and energetic little fella. Eventually, she grew accustomed to Cobbler—even kind of loved him, in her own way.

Keegan passed away about seven years ago, leaving Cobbler as our only cat/pet. Although my Hubby believed Cobbler had enough entertainment from mice, birds, bugs, raccoons, possums, deer, and bobcats, I always felt he was lonely.

Cobbler circa 2011

I started praying for a dog to find us about four years ago—not the other way around. My Hubby has wanted a Lab for at least that long. I was fairly certain I was never going to agree to a puppy. Last Summer, Mortimer, the cRaZy cat, came to live with us. Compliments of TLC and her Hubby. It was a wise and wonderful decision that all of us have embraced. I knew Cobbler was happy for the company. But when TLC and her Hubby got Henry, my Hubby amped-up the pressure to get a puppy just like him. (Henry is sooo charming!) I had no doubt as to who would be doing the majority of “puppy work.” I am talking about moi. So my prayers for an older dog increased to a minimum of ten a day.

Then the fateful call came in late July. From our friend, Kit. She’d heard of a 4-year-old Chocolate Lab that needed a new home. The young man he belonged to had graduated from college and taken a job out West. He’d be living in an apartment and traveling a lot. His Mom wasn’t going to be able to keep Buddy Bear because of her work schedule. The afternoon we met him, we fell in love. I added two more names—to make him feel more like our own! (And, yes, I usually call him all four names.)

TBBB and Hubby—a nightly Guyfest!

Hubby promises those headphones are for hearing the TV better...

Not to tune me out.

Hmmm.  Suurrreeee.

Soon after adopting TBBB, we took him to our Vet for neutering. It was then that heartworms were discovered. We’d never dealt with a scare like this before. We knew it wasn’t good. Maybe fatal. Since we’d planned to board him and our cats for ten days while we went on our Road Trip, we arranged to have him treated the week before we left. He'd be at the Clinic for seventeen days.

Well, no wonder he was too tired to stand and eat… Bless his heart…

Now that we’re all home (and we truly treasure our Vets and their assistants more than ever!), we have a little less than three weeks left on his six-week recovery time. He seems to be doing great! He goes back for a “day” follow-up treatment next week. We’re optimistic they’ll find he’s healing fabulously. We’re praying that soon he’ll be able to have more of a normal “dog’s life.”

Every Monday through Friday you can find TBBB,
chin on the windowsill, in my office,
 waiting for Hubby to come home. 
He can see his car when he drives up.

Tres touching, yes?

In the meantime, we’re committed to keeping him “quiet,” on a short leash, not allowing him to run, jump or bark excessively. We wish we could make him understand what’s happening. He looks at us with those sad, amber eyes like he’s wondering why we don’t throw him a ball. Or let him chase the cats. Sigh.

Silly Mortimer thinks he needs to climb a tree when TBBB is around.

Although our cats live over at our Barn and are put up every night for their safety, they roam around the top of our hill during the day. I’ll catch them both looking in our windows at TBBB—annoyed expressions on their faces. I know they’re thinking: “What the heck is this? That dog is in that comfortable house? So not fair, People.” (Believe me—they have a hugely fine life.)

TBBB is already immensely loyal to both of us. I think he loves Hubby more. Hubby thinks he loves me more. Hubby usually goes to bed at night before me—at least during the week. Occasionally, TBBB stays in the Great Room with me, watching Grey’s or The Biggest Loser. Two nights ago, TBBB became torn and confused. Then he proved he loves us exactly the same. (I think he totally understands when we’re talking about our ridiculous “competition” of who he likes the best. His eyes are so wise and knowing.) He literally layed across the threshold of the door between our Great Room and our Master Bedroom. As if to say, “I love you both. Period. End of Story and DONE. Sheesh.” I think I’ll start telling people he was born in Switzerland! (Since we don’t know his exact birthdate, we’ve made it our anniversary. We know that has to be very close. All together now: AWWW.)

Besides being incredibly gentle and kind, he’s super smart. I tried to get a picture of him watching The Texas Rangers winning Game 2 last night! (He watches TV all the time. He especially likes National Geographic shows.) By the time I got enough lights on, he’d become more interested in me and my phone.

If you'd told me and Hubby even six months ago we'd have a dog sleeping in our bedroom every night, we would've laughed and said, "Uh, no. Not us. Not happenin'." But there you go. Life is full of surprises, twists and turns. Thank you to Kit! We heart you!!! And thank y'all for your time and patience during The Story of TBBB!

GO TEXAS RANGERS!!! Win the World Series!!!

Please.