For those who requested the recipe in my last post, click here.
Below is a photo of my coffeecake. I did not use coconut, because I didn’t know if people would like that. I happen to love coconut, but most folks either like it or hate it.
Month: December 2016
Drizzle or Glop?
The innocent coffeecake didn’t know what hit it. I hadn’t baked with yeast in years and was pleased with the way the bread looked when it came out of the oven.
The recipe called for putting chocolate chips on the hot bread and spreading them as they melted. I knew not to do that. One disaster with Chocolate Nut Saltines cured me. Modern chips are tough, made to hold their shape. They sat in defiance on top of candied saltines, refusing to ooze evenly. I melted the chips this time, adding a little milk to thin the mixture. I intended to drizzle it attractively over the top. It wasn’t thin enough, but I didn’t realize that. The photo didn’t lie. Chocolate had been glopped all over the coffeecake.
Grandson David texted me that he would shortly be singing with his college choir for their service of lessons and carols. I missed the first few minutes while fumbling around to find the streaming site. He is the one on the right end, as they sang a catchy spiritual, Mary Had a Baby.
One other photo shows the choir and orchestra as the audience joined in singing a carol. I admire the organist, having seen and heard her in person a number of times. It seemed fitting that she sports a glorious halo here.
I Finished Your Sentence Again????
The defining moment was years ago when I realized I was finishing thoughts for people. If they paused looking for a word, I supplied it. Copious words are always sloshing about in my head, and that is something I cannot control. No one pointed out my presumptive habit, so it must have gotten pretty bad for me to notice it myself. I slapped a mental block on my tongue and demanded patience to wait for people to find their own words without my help. Vigilance was not easy. Folks may have noticed my tightening lips, reddening face, and bulging fish-eyes. Inner-word pressure was explosive!
While walking recently, I enjoyed a chat with neighbor Marla. I was not aware of what I was doing. I think I let her finish her sentence, but I summed up the end of her thought in two words. She moved her head a fraction, looked at me, and agreed with a “yeah”. She said, “Right. You’re a writer, aren’t you?”
She said it in the nicest possible way, so I didn’t examine it immediately. Much later it occurred to me that her words could be damnation, not praise!
Not thinking of it as a lame defense, I explained, “I love words. I love people, and I love words.”
Marla smiled, and the incident was over. I would like to reopen it one more time to apologize. With no trumpet fanfare, my old habit resurfaced. I really didn’t pay attention right away until I finished a sentence for John, and he agreed with my choice of words. Golly Pete! I must devise a new, effective tongue-tie.
Many people reading this are writers. Do any of you have a problem like mine? Have you lost friends or been banished from gatherings because words burst out unbidden? Any thoughts of commiseration or wisdom would be greatly appreciated. Meanwhile, I’ll impose a gag order on myself.
Thanksgiving Week Pleasures
Our English friend Chris had to go back home two days after Thanksgiving. That’s when we buckled down for pumpkin time. Daughter Lise adores pumpkin, which is something she doesn’t have in Denmark. We had pumpkin cheesecake for a big family dinner the weekend before the holiday. We brought the remains home and noshed on it for days. After Chris left, I baked Lise her own pie which she graciously shared with John and me. Come to think of it, I should have let her cut our slices. That pie was gone by the time we had Logan and his family over for dinner. (Logan comes first, because he is the one readers follow avidly.) Our dessert that evening was Pumpkin Pudding Crunch, a recipe printed in the October 2015 issue of Carolina Country magazine. It was an easy recipe calling for canned pumpkin and a yellow cake mix. You don’t want to know about the sugar and butter.
Our son John $ drops in on us regularly, but he spent several nights here to have more time with Lise. The weather was odd, warm enough that we had lunch on the porch one day and breakfast there the next. Our views were hazy with smoke from the forest fires, but we smelled burning wood only occasionally. I took a photograph of Lise at breakfast with the two horses behind her.
We were very happy to welcome the horses back a few days before Thanksgiving. They board next door, and we have the pleasure of giving them apples. $ is the one who seems to speak their language.
Being on the go for weeks, we missed chatting with the neighbors across the street. We also wanted to spend time with their daughter and her family, newly moved here from Istanbul. Logan was being very helpful, trying to get the baby to smile.
When Logan’s exuberance threatened to bring on punishment, Lise asked him to read to us. He opened the pop-up book and read Twas the Night Before Christmas smoothly from start to finish. He’s only six years old! He provided his own pronunciation for about five words but read the names of Santa’s reindeer flawlessly. He is amazing.
John went in the next room to play checkers with Logan while the rest of us chatted. They came back in the kitchen where John was preparing something for him, and the little toy camera caught Logan hanging on his elbows to watch. John said he was eyeing a candy dish which was practically under his nose. Reminder to self: move the candy before Logan comes over again.
All too soon it was time for everyone to go home. We took Lise to the airport and came home to follow her progress via texting. She changed planes in Atlanta, had a four-hour layover in Amsterdam, and landed in Manchester to stay for the weekend before flying to Copenhagen. The past two weeks were highly satisfying to me. We gave thanks for our many blessings with lots of dear relatives and friends. Who could ask for more?
Mehrling Muse 