Peony Problem

So, Mama had these gorgeous, massive peonies growing in the corner of the backyard.  When my sister graduated from college and moved home, we had a lovely dinner party to celebrate, and the tables were graced with the lovely flowers.  They lasted quite a while, wilting very slowly.  I thought they’d last forever, and perhaps they would have, if they only had legs and could run away from the power of my exuberant brother’s arms.  See, peonies are kind of fragile and, sadly, we lost the wounded peonies soon after Zach finished talking with his arms.

Another Adventurous Mishap

I don’t know how things like this continuously happen to my family, but we honestly cannot do anything without some sort of hilarious (in hindsight) catastrophe.  Wanna know what happened this time?

Our ancient washing machine bit the dust.  It’s been dying a slow death for quite a while now, but it has completely given up on us.  Mama purchased a new one and it is coming tomorrow.  However, the good old days when the installation men would remove the old, hook up the new, and leave with the old are long gone, so we had to unhook everything for ourselves.  This was a disaster.  Our bathroom flooded, Dad cut him self and was bleeding everywhere (I seriously thought he’d popped a vein), and we could not get the water turned off.  As we near 9:30, I’ve paused to update you all and reflect on my glass of Shiraz.  I’ve never, ever seen Dad so angry, but at least it was at an inanimate object. 

And I still have my Lemon Sour Cream Pound cakes to bake!!!  Oh, washing machine……why now?!

Mother’s Day Foul

After a long absence (life is pandemonium!), I return to you with an anecdote from this past Sunday, Mother’s Day.  It had been a lovely day of relaxation and indulging in all the little things that make my Mama particularly happy, like Dad’s homemade blueberry waffles, mimosas, and the completion of planting all of Mama’s flowers.

It was late now, nearing midnight, and everyone had to get up early for school and jobs.  Mama & Daddy were in bed, and my little brother climbed up between them.  Their bed is about eight feet off the ground; you really have to get some momentum going to get up there.  Even though Zach is a lanky eighteen-year-old and took up a lot of space, I wanted to join in the love fest, so I started to climb up, too.

*BAM!!!*

The bed suddenly fell about four feet.  That’s right; it broke.  I felt so badly that I was in tears because, seriously, who wants to take apart a queen sized bed and put it all back together again near midnight?!  It took a while, and it was hard work as my parents have a tiny room and the bed is so huge and old and made of wood, and did I mention it’s a canopy bed?  It was a grand Mother’s Day party foul that I will never live down.

If I get married, the bed will be on a slab on the floor.

Lacking Grace

I went to my brother’s final musical performance of his high school career last night.  He was phenomenal, as he is in pretty much everything he does.  I couldn’t have been more proud.

Then it was over.  I started down the auditorium stairs to make my way through the crowd to Zach.  Then I was on the floor and my shoe was missing.  Yeah – I had fallen down the stairs, and my foot was swelling up in three places and turning colors in two.  Luckily, the entire crowd didn’t notice, just my brother’s girlfriend’s family.  Her grandpa sat on the floor with me (in his suit!) because I was in so much pain and crying.  Former teachers (including my kindergarten teacher) of mine appeared out of nowhere to help me, offering ice and trying to help me stand, but I couldn’t.  The school’s crutches were way too tall for me, so one of my favorite high school teachers had to use the school’s wheelchair to get me out to the car.  That’s right:  I was with my four grandparents, but I was the one in the wheelchair.

I sprained my ankle.  Badly.  Pain was shooting up from my foot to my knee.  It’s now misshapen, different colors, and I can hardly walk, all because I lack the grace to walk down four steps.

“You’ll sit in the car…”

Remember that earlier post in which I told you about our family trip to South Dakota, in particular, when we went to the Badlands?  Here is an anecdote of that day:

My brother, Zach really loved standing at the precipice of the canyons.  He would stand at the edge, hands on his hips, taking in the great landscapes and the huge sky.  This behavior distressed my poor mother.  One huge gust of wind would have swept him off his feet and, perhaps, hurtling to his death.  Mom kept telling him to get away from the edge, and he knew she was distressed.

Instead of backing off, Zach posed for pictures, because that’s what eighteen year-old guys do:

“Zachary!” yelled Mom, a significant distance away, “If you don’t get back from that edge, you’ll sit in the car the rest of vacation!!!”

Somehow, it is far more hilarious when grown-up Zach gets yelled at than when little Zach got yelled at.

Coffee

It is not a want, but a need.  An addiction, if you will.  I am unashamed.

Gelato in Bolsena

Before exploring the catacombs below the town, we stopped for gelato.  We enjoyed the smooth ice cream out in the sunshine, but one customer was dissatisfied.

“I’m not really feeling this flavor,” said Rachel, studying the top scoop on her cone.

“At least it’s the top scoop.  Just push it off or something.”

“I suppose I could flick it off,” Rachel replied, as the rest of us focused on our treats.  It was quiet for a few moments, all of us enjoying the gelato in the radiant sunlight.

“You guys, you guys:  watch this.”  As she spoke the words, Rachel, holding onto the bottom tip of her cone, made a flicking motion with her wrist.  I believe her theory was that the top scoop of gelato would fly off the cone.  Instead, the entire massive cone broke off and smashed into the cobblestones, leaving poor Rachel with a cone tip oozing melted gelato.

“Wow, Rachel!”

Not cool.

One night after the Third South girls were at our house, I stumbled into my room to find my sister’s childhood Cabbage Patch doll tucked into my bed.  I still don’t know who did it, so I let the doll have it:  “Quimby!!!  I told you I don’t like it when I find dolls in my bed!!!  I don’t care that your mom is my sister!!!”

Grapefruit: Meet Edamame

The potato saga continues…

So, Friday was the loaded baked potato bar day at my mom’s school.  She was in charge of the baked potatoes, so she got up Friday morning and baked off 42 potatoes.  Then school was cancelled because of icy streets.  Yeah.  My family was stuck with 42 baked potatoes.  Mama made a massive pot of loaded baked potato soup, which was divine, but we cannot get through it all.  Then, she scooped out the innards of the remaining potatoes and froze the skins for loaded potato skins to enjoy during the Super Bowl, which the Colts will win.  Now, all we had left was a large bowl of potato guts, defiantly taking up too much room in the fridge.  So, yesterday I made mashed potato rolls.  Now, they aren’t the most perfect-looking rolls, but oh-my-goodness are they buttery, oh-so-soft, and delicious.

Potato Rolls

2/3 cup of granulated sugar

2/3 cup room-temperature butter

1 cup mashed potatoes (not instant; real stuff makes a difference!)

2-1/2 teaspoons salt

2 eggs

2 packages (1/4 oz. each) active dry yeast

1-1/3 cups warm water, divided

6 to 6-1/2 cups all-purpose flour

In a large mixing bowl, cream the sugar and the butter.  Add potatoes, salt and eggs.  In a small bowl, dissolve the yeast in 2/3 cup of the warm water; add to creamed mixture.  At this point, your batter may look strange.  Beat in 2 cups of flour and the remaining warm water.  Continue to add flour until a soft dough forms.  Shape it into a ball; do not knead.  Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease the top.  Cover and let dough rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.  Punch dough down; roll scoops of dough into balls and arrange in either 9-inch round baking pans, a greased jelly roll pan, or a glass baking dish.  Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.  Bake the rolls at 375 degrees for 20-25 minutes.  Remove from the pans to cool on wire racks.  This recipe yields about 45 rolls, depending on the size you make them.