Matt and Theona come home for a spontaneous visit and bring Fat Baby Carter!

Mmmmmm . . . fresh grapes from the arbor.  Why do they look so serious?

Uncle Reid and his son Brady(L) and nephew, Landon(R).

Grandma Blanchard and Avery, her only female grandchild.

Being a new daddy to Carter makes Matthew happy.

Family portrait with canine

It's our first family picture with Pandora.  Becki took it on cider day.

Ciderfest 2012 with the Bralliers

Cameron was a great apple loader 

Dave and Eric gaze into each other's eyes while pressing the apples.  Don't ask me what those black specks between them are, probably their thoughts.  Or maybe birds.

Lunch time weinie roast in my parent's fire pit.

Just in case the kids didn't take in enough sugar from the gallons of apple cider, we also frosted Halloween sugar cookies.

Beren's Class Field Trip to Lalooska Lodge

Back on the bus

My Crazy Group:  Taylor, Kyle, Beren, Sabrina

Beren's teacher:  Bethany Glovatski

Beren and best friend Carlos

My neice, Avery Grace, turns 1

Mutant Fruit

Not all of the garden produce came out perfect; in fact, this tomatoe grew a schnoz.

I made these. Love them.

Caramel Stuffed Apple Cider Cookies

recipe very slightly adapted from The Cooking Photographer

Ingredients

1 cup softened butter

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 box (7.4 oz) Alpine Spiced Apple Cider Instant Original Drink mix -not sugar free- all 10 packets (I found this in my grocery store near the hot chocolate mixes.)

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

3 cups all purpose flour

1 bag Kraft Caramels (14 oz)

Directions

• Preheat oven to 350° F. Line cookie sheets with parchment. (You really need the parchment!)
• In a small bowl whisk together flour, baking soda, baking powder and cinnamon.
• With your mixer (or an energetic spoon) cream together butter, sugar, salt and all 10 packages of apple cider drink mix powder, until light and fluffy.
• Beat in eggs, one at a time. Add vanilla and mix well.
• Gradually add flour mixture to butter/egg mixture. Mix until just combined.
• Refrigerate for about an hour. (If you're really impatient you don't have to do this, but it makes it so much easier to work with.)
• When you are ready to bake, unwrap your caramels. 
• Scoop out cookie dough ball about the size of a walnut. (I used a rounded cookie scoop-full. My scoop holds about a Tablespoon.)
• Flatten the ball of dough slightly in the palm of your hand. Press the unwrapped caramel into the center of your dough and seal the dough around it, covering it completely. Place on parchment covered cookie sheets 2 inches apart.
• Bake 12-14 minutes, or until very lightly browned around the edges. Please don't over-bake! Once the cookies are done, slide the parchment off of the baking sheet right out onto the counter. Allow cookies to partially cool on the parchment. When cookies are cool enough to be firm but still slightly warm, carefully twist off of parchment and allow to finish cooling upside down (either on the parchment or on a rack.) If you forget about them and they cool too much and stick to your parchment, put them into the freezer for a few minutes and they'll pop right off.
• Yield: about 4 dozen, depending on how large you make your cookies (or how many caramels have been snitched out of your bag before you begin.) Store in an airtight container.

Thanks Honey!

For those of you who don't know, I love to garden, but my sad little patch of ground at my house is too shady to produce much.  So this year for Christmas, Eric secretly purchased me a plot of land at the community gardens over by City Hall.  It's amazing what a difference a little sunshine makes.

This is from just one trip to the garden this week.  This isn't even all of it.  When I took this picture I had already eaten the green beans for lunch and put the carrots into a soup for dinner.

Art Smart

For the Regional Day of Service, our stake decided to help renovate the Imagination Station park structure and grounds.  I was the team leader for getting the woodcarvings painted (they were just brown wood before) and ran around like a crazy person, trying to supervise 6 different painting projects while my men leisurely worked on their chosen canvases.  Didn't they come out amazing though?   I am quite proud of both my guys.

Eric's Masterpiece:  Dragon Fang

Beren's work was a little more abstract, but just as well executed.  He worked on this panel with scout friend Alex Paurus.

My Best Friend's Wedding

End of ceremony smooching performed by my best friend from high school, Douglas Mitchell, and his lovely Bolivian bride, Shadia.

L to R:  Jonny Hofmann, Dianna (Dolan) Fontez, Heather (Blanchard) Mowrer
These were two good buddies from my school days who I still love to hang out with.  We had a wonderful time at Doug's wedding.

Blanchard Family Camping Adventures

I learned about all kinds of edible berries on our ranger walk and decided to make a berry sauce out of them for the cake I was making for dessert.  Eric thought I would poison us all, but I didn't.  The sauce was made from wild strawberries, thimble berries, salal berries, Himalayan blackberries, and red huckleberries.  Yum!

My brother Reid and his little son, Brady, out on the dunes.

 Aunt Theona and Aunt Melissa spent most of their camping trip feeding their ravenous offspring :)

Swimming in the Sandy Lake at Honeyman Campground is the best!  This is Beren with Uncle Matthew, Aunt Holly, and Cousin Landon.

Good thing the dog is pretty 'cause she ain't too bright

So I needed to ripen up the cantelope a bit for the BBQ that was coming up.  I thought leaving it on the deck in the sunshine might do the trick.  Instead, I came home to this.  No doubt Pandora thought it was a ball and then realized it had a fragrance and then, well . . . all roads lead to edible.  Aren't canines supposed to be carnivores?  Will someone please explain this to my dog?!!

FUN WITH FRIES!!!

It's an oldie, but a goodie.  Time to share these magnificent photographic gems with the world!

We're Back... Soon!

We are preparing to resurrect this blog. Be prepared for wily shenanigans and hilarious hijinks to ensue. Is anybody still out there?

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Dessert Ninja

So this post is a little late, but is it ever too late to show off? Ever? ;) I made this killer fruit tart for my dad on Father's day. We had a bakery one at a seminary broadcast where he was kind enough to accompany me as my date back in November and he was wondering how someone could make one. I told him I was pretty sure I could do it and I'd make him one for Father's Day. So here it is. I even made it the fancy French way (read finicky, annoying, fall apart crust, real pastry cream, and apricot glaze to make it glisten. I love you dad and this is the proof.

The puppy has spawned much new material

Referring to the dog opening her mouth to receive a toy:
I like when she just opens it like she's a space station and there's a ship coming through.

More about the dog:
Beren: That sound she makes with her claws is really handy.
Mama: How so?
Beren: It tells you where she is and how fast she's going. "ticka, ticka, ticka = bullet train! Tick, tick, tick, means she's going slow.

"Mom! I kissed Pandy on the lips and she kissed me to at the exact same time! I'll never take a bath again!"

Our puppy was lying in the sun in a rare moment of quietude:
Mama: Wow, she's really floppy right now, but she can be feisty and frisky in the mornings.
Beren: Yeah. But lately she's been more frisk than feist, so that's good.

While hugging Pandora as she single-mindedly consumes her kibble:
Beren: Wow, there's nothing like a little food to take the edge off a dog!

Comments Now Restricted

The spammers finally got us on their list and now I get more posts in Chinese than from you loyal followers. Some might say that's because we only have like... 5 loyal followers, but I say... never mind about that. The spammers are now shut out. I will accept membership requests from anybody Heather or I have ever heard of or suspect we know either directly or via a mutual friend.

Mother's Day Reflections

MOTHER'S DAY

The weekend before Mother's Day, we celebrated my son, Beren's, 7th birthday. I had lost my voice due to illness and was exhausted from caring for the new puppy he'd received as an early present, but decided to go ahead with the planned extended-family celebration. I'm glad I did. It was a wonderful day, for him and for us, but it left me completely wiped out and entirely mute.

When I entered Beren's room that evening bearing a laundry basket, I was seized with a tremendous coughing fit. When it finally passed, I collapsed onto his bed and groaned weakly. He solemnly pressed my hand between his sweaty palms and gazed intently at my face for a moment, then uttered one word: "Come."

I was too depleted to resist. I let him lead me into the hallway and through the door of my own bedroom where he pointed commandingly towards the bed. I didn't move. I knew that if I laid down in that bed I probably wouldn't be able to rise again any time soon. Beren must have sensed my hesitation because at that moment he marched towards me, wading through the sea of clothing I had strewn about the floor, and towed me firmly across the room. After stowing me (none to gently) beneath the covers, he flipped on the humidifier I had sitting on my night stand and crawled into bed next to me.

For a few moments we just laid there and cuddled, but then, the inevitable: . . ."Mom. Stay right here. Don't go anywhere. I have to go to the bathroom." I can't tell you how often this happens. If Beren Chritstopher Mowrer is ever elected president of the United States, I guarantee you that on the way to his swearing in, the entire motorcade if going to have to pull over and wait for the Commander-in-Chief to take a poo.

He was gone a long time (even for him) and when he finally came back he had a surprise. With no fanfare whatsoever, he slapped a dripping wet rag across my forehead and then stood back to behold my delight. "Uh . . . thanks," I sputtered, wondering which cartoon I had to thank for teaching him that little first aid technique. "You're welcome," he affirmed benevolently. I can also use the massager on you if you want." Without waiting to find out if "I want" or not, he scrambled over the side of the bed and fired it up.

Since I was lying on my back, Beren demonstrated great adaptability by massaging the palms of my hands on the highest setting for several minutes. When I could no longer stand the intense relaxation this produced in my nervous system, I tactfully suggested that perhaps I could turn over and let him work on my back. He agreed and soon the 10 pound massage wand was racing over my spine and shoulder blades like a stock car at the Indianapolis 500.

At some point in the midst of all this muscle therapy, I began to cough again. Beren quickly flipped off the massager and began pounding me heartily on the back like an enthusiastic life guard trying to save a drowning swimmer.

When I recovered from the coughing and its "cure," Beren draped his body across mine and intoned with great solemnity: "I ----- love----you." There was something funny about the way he said it and it took me a minute to figure out what it was. He wasn't just saying the words to be nice . . . he was applying them like one would administer ointment on a cut or the final stitch that seals the wound. Evidently he considered this a crucial part of my recovery. "And why not?" I mused. I certainly never neglected to include it when trying to heal him. "Let me know if you need more snuggling," he directed. I held out my arms to indicate that I did.

I keep a flashlight by my bed for reading and a few minutes later it caught Beren's attention. He repositioned the wet rag over my eyes (creating many new rivulets that ran down my neck and pooled in my hair) and began shining it at various angles into my face, asking each time, "Can you see the light now?" I was pretty sure we were done with "tenderness" now that his mind had taken a scientific turn, but I was wrong.


After determining that I could indeed see the light if he shoved it practically up my nose, Beren finally turned it off and asked me a question: "Mom, have you ever read a book, seen a movie, or played a video game about the original Star Wars?" "Yes," I croaked. He brightened, "Want me to read to you about it?" I nodded.

He dashed from the room and returned clutching a blue book with a tattered binding. "You're gonna love this," he promised. After courteously fluffing my pillow for me he began: "Long ago and far, far away, there was an evil empire . . . "

He was right. I did love it. I loved all of it. My bruised ribs, the damp pillow, the hum of the humidifier, and the age old battle of good an evil being played out in my son's childish voice next to my ear. Heck! I even loved the dang puppy who piddles on my floor and keeps eating my rug every chance she gets. It's part of the whole glorious, untidy, maddening, wonderful package that is motherhood.

You can't pick which pieces you'll get and which you'll leave out. There are as many ways to celebrate mothers as there are stars in the sky. None of them is wrong. But I'd like to suggest that sometimes the celebrations come when you least expect them (and some times they feel like a punishment). But try not to miss them. The same circumstances that create one perfect moment with your child will never come together in exactly the same way again.

Recently, I saw a framed poem in a thrift store by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton that I can't seem to forget. I'm going to leave an excerpt of it with you as my final thought for Mother's Day 2010.

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.