A New Address

I've moved over to:

www.thegirlinmuddyboots.com

Come join me there for new stories, recipes and DIY projects.

The move was necessary as the Blogger app was no longer iPad compatible.  It was the perfect time for a name update and fresh, new look, too.

I hope to see you on the new site!

Thanks,
Amy

World Down Syndrome Day, 3/21

3/21 is Down Syndrome Day.  Down Syndrome, aka, Trisomy 21, meaning when those tiny gametes met to create a zygote -- there was an extra chromosome 21 -- and that little zygote grew up to be our adorable miracle: Grant.  

So, he's just like the rest of us, except he has an extra chromosome.  It can make some things harder for him, like speech and fine motor skills -- but it also makes him pretty darn special; anyone who has ever been lucky enough to feel his hug knows exactly what I'm talking about.  He is patient, kind, loving and so stinking funny that he keeps us all giggling.  His connection with animals is infinitely deep, so much that it feels spiritual.  His tolerance of others is one I envy.  He teaches us new life lessons every single day and we are all better and wiser humans for it.

I'm so utterly humbled by and grateful for this little man that I can hardly go a day without seeing him.  He's my nephew, my little buddy, my helper and my backseat co-pilot and I can't imagine a life without him. ❤

The Crimson Sunset

1 shot of Fireball
1 shot of Vanilla Bean Vodka
Peach nectar and a
Drizzle of grenadine

Over ice, in the perfect glass, during a beautiful sunset over my favorite mountains.  I'd add some muddled mint but the dog peed on the bushes and some things just can't be unseen no matter how long ago or how many times you wash them.

If it's too sweet for your tastebuds, try adding it to iced tea.

Is it Time for Coffee or Wine?

The deer have been into the trees, the dogs have been into the flower beds, frost in the garden and moles in the lawn. The sink is overflowing with dirty dishes, the laundry room bulging at the seams and I'm pretty sure those are dust bunnies in the hall but let's be honest, they may be actual bunnies. The dogs have gone feral, the chickens are giving me stink-eye with some very unpleasant cackles and I think my house plants are picking up their roots and attempting to move out.

I think Jeff still lives here but between John Deere, the restaurant, the farm and my crazy hours; I don't think we've been awake, or even asleep, and in the same room for nearly 2 weeks.

THIS. This is why I'm so thankful I don't pull overtime shifts very often and get to work part time. Balance is everything.

Now to go cut off a slice of that big, bad, buck sausage and toast to next hunting season. I've had 12 hours of sleep since Sunday and I've lost my patience. #DontEatMyTreesOrWeEatYou, #WhatDayIsIt, #IsItTimeForCoffeeOrWine

Five Kids, One Auntie and NO Wipes

If you can handle caring for a dementia patient sundowning, an ETOH patient in withdrawal, while hanging a cardiac drip on an unstable arrhythmia patient all at the same time -- you can take on a niece and four nephews at the hotel alone...

At least until your sister sends you on a scavenger hunt at IKEA, on a Sunday, for a table you've never seen, with the 5 children, one who dirties his pull-up and all of them suddenly "starving" -- then I suggest bringing back up, because unless you've managed a pack of velociraptors on your own -- you have no idea what you are setting yourself up for.

I'm pretty sure she just punked me. Even the cashier laughed until she had tears in her eyes.

#WhereWereTheCameras
#WhatDoYouMeanTheWipesAreGone
#TheyLookSoSweet
#AliveAndNotLost
#StillSmiling

Know When to Walk Away

I started my day attempting to renew the boat registration.  It's all online now.  You need an account to log in but our boat isn't associated with an account so I can't renew it. Forty minutes of frustration that needs a Mon-Fri, 9-5 follow up phone call to Salem -- epic fail.

So I dig out the roto-tiller to go burn off some frustration and out of the 8 yellow diesel containers actually full of ethanol free gasoline, (talk to Jeff - you all know I'm a color coded rule follower), I fill the tank with the only can of diesel we have on the property.  Yes - I caught it BUT until you've syphoned diesel out of a gas tank in 90 degree weather - you have no idea how bad that sucks.

By now, I'm pretty freakin' hot and cranky.  I take to the yard to patch all the vole trails carved into once beautiful lawn...  They burrow into the roots and leave ugly dead paths that need to be raked up, leveled and reseeded.  It's not fun work but it has to be done.

I'm crawling around the yard on my hands and knees patching things up - and what do I see in the lawn next to me but a (SCREAM!!!!!) snake...  Jeff grabs for his gun, I grab my itty bitty yard rake, I'm yelling at Jeff to kill it but not to shoot (the hot tub was too close).  It slithers away in the chaos and reappears just as I get ready to move the sprinkler then retreats UNDER THE DECK (gulp).

It gets worse.  It's a rubber boa - harmless to humans (supposedly) and get what it eats -- yard trashing voles...  Dang.  For someone who believes that the only good snake is a dead snake -- this is a pickle of a situation, indeed.

I'm giving up on this day, mixing cocktails on the deck and getting use to the idea that Herb, the vole eating snake, and I can somehow coexist.  Jeff is still somewhere in the shop bellylaughing his ass off.  I'll give him this one - because if it had been a rattlesnake, we'd be moving right now.

Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run - and know when to pour a drink.

#ComeVisit
#BringIce
#WearSnakeBoots

Not All Sunsets and Fine Wine

My house plants are wilted and begging for water, laundry is piled waist high, clutter has overtaken every flat surface available, the refrigerator is home to new species of funk never meant to be edible and if I don't remember to order contacts tomorrow, I will soon be walking around without the gift of sight.  

My immune system is fighting valiantly to overcome the last viral assault launched my direction by a patient that actually PULLED DOWN HER MASK, turned towards me and coughed.  (Yep. Turns out "mask wearing" is a special skill not all are qualified for).  My body knows when to call uncle and retreat into a mini coma, which is how I've spent the last few days. You know I'm sick when my husband seeks refuge in the guest room and sends the dog in to sleep next to me.  It's the equivalent of sending a parakeet in with the miners down the mine shaft.  "If the dog's okay, she's okay."

I picked up too many shifts this month and these are the consequences. Everything is dirty, undone, dying or neglected.  Life has been shrunk down to a world that can be summed up in 3 words: work, sleep, repeat. Every minute is accounted for, every moment assigned.

Yet -- in the midst of the chaos, there is a level of validation that helps me find my smile.  There's a certain satisfaction in knowing that I can still keep up with the big dogs at work.  I may not eat, sleep and dream emergency nursing like I once did - but I haven't lost my touch, either.

And in an odd way, it's nice to know that things fall apart at home without me.  The dogs forget their manners, the goats lose their ever livin' minds, the chickens nearly starve to death (they won't come out of hiding even to eat for fear of running into a half-crazed goat) and my husband is counting down the days until he gets his wife (and clean laundry) back.  It's proof that, in some small way, my existence really does make a difference -- and that's enough for me.

To the rest of you nightshift working, family raising, full time nurses out there: You are ahhhh - mazing!!!  I promise to never judge your messy house, empty frig, the fact you fell asleep during your child's last dance recital or that time you wore two different shoes to work.

In all honesty, I hide from the goats, too.  If they see me, they start screaming at me to come play with them and don't stop until I do.  Goats are acutely alert and freakishly smart.  They know I put my eye contacts in every day and keep an eye through the window so they know when to start yelling for attention -- yes, EVERY single day.

Goodbye, Sweet Friend

"I'm putting on my nurse face -- the one that is strong and compassionate, the one that says that everything is going to be okay, the one that says I will take away your pain, I will shoulder your worries and I will give all I have to give to care for you.  I am here, you're not alone and I will not leave your side.  You can let go now; you are free.

I will hold your paw and pet your head.  I will cradle you close and push my sadness aside.  I will make sure you feel love and comfort.  I will be strong so you don't feel the need to protect me.  I will be confident so you aren't afraid.  I will swallow the hurricane of emotions raging inside of me because this moment won't belong to me, it is all yours, my sweet friend.

You've been my nemesis since the day my dad brought you home.  You jumped, you barked, you peed EVERY WHERE and you freakin' sniffed my private parts every day you lived.  You killed my chickens, you got into the garbage and you gave no apologies, not even a shameful glance.  As a matter of fact, I think you smirked.  You turned our lives upside-down and we adjusted to accommodate your growing needs.  Special grooming, special beds, special food, no rules, no free ranging chickens; we altered our lives to fit around yours.  We begrudgingly, yet without hesitation, gave in to all of your demands -- and you silently stole our hearts.  

From the day we lost my Dad, you have not left my side.  I've had to put gates up, shut doors or lock you in a kennel to keep you from following me places you weren't supposed to be.  You followed me room to room, inside and out, no matter how much your bones hurt or muscles ached.  You barked incessantly when we'd been separated too long.  You literally wore a groove into our wood floors making sure I was never too far away. You saved your best for last and it did not go unnoticed.

So today, I use every ounce of energy I have to put on my nurse face, put my emotions aside and put your comfort first.  I will be your rock, I will be your human, I will make decisions that I don't want to make and I will do my very best to honor you and all you've given my family.  I will step up for my Dad and everything he wanted for you.  You were always his dog, you know.  It's time you return to his side.  Tell him I love him, I'm certain he's anxious to see you again.

Thank you for giving me all you had, Max. I will do my very best to return the favor.  Your self-sacrifice has been tremendous.  You will be so very much missed and forever loved. May you rest in peace, sweet boy."

 

We put Max down later that day, under a beautiful Elm tree that was showering blossom petals, in the midst of an unforcasted thunderstorm.  Those of you that know my family's affinity for lightning might share the suspicion that this was my Dad's way of saying both thank you and "Welcome home, old boy."

 

Key Lime Martini

It's light and frothy.  It's not too sweet, not too tart and so easy to make.  It's the perfect martini to sip on the deck on a warm evening.  Move over Lemon Drop - there's a new drink in town!

2 oz Vanilla vodka

2 oz fresh squeezed lime

2 oz half and half or cream

2 heaping teaspoons powdered sugar

Fill shaker with ice. 

Add ingredients.

Shake until ice crystals form on shaker.

Pour into martini glass rimmed with fresh lime.

Garnish with a sprinkle of lime zest if you must.

This is a simple cocktail.  Less is more.

Enjoy!

The Pallet Sign Class

I cut back my hours 18 months ago because I felt like I was investing all of my time and energy in other people's lives and at the end of each work week, I was too short on both to truly invest in my own.  I wanted time with my husband, my family, my dogs, my friends and yah, it sounds selfish, but I wanted more time for me, too.  I wanted a clean house, folded laundry and a green garden.  I wanted a date night.  I wanted to go more places.  I wanted to take classes, learn new things and fill parts of my brain that have nothing to do with the nursing profession.  Life is short, create the life you want and truly live it, right?

 

I saw this pallet sign class in Februray and had to giggle when the only dates available just happened to be on 3 of the 8 nights I had already been scheduled to work that month.  Oh, the irony!  

I caught a short message on Facebook yesterday that there was still room in the class for last night. So I signed up.  A quick text to a friend and I'd found someone willing to give it a try with me -- even though she had no idea what I was talking about when I said it was a pallet sign class -- and even after learning that it was a two week class and neither of us could do the second class.  I can't stress how important it is to have at least a couple friends who can "wing it" on impulse and at the last minute with you.  It helps turn life from a scheduled event into an adventure!

Katie Homann is the smart, articulate and crafty genius behind the class.  She brings an energy into the room that is fun, spirited and knowledgeable. I love being around people that love what they do. She has a community page on Facebook named Reflection with her projects and classes through RAPRD.org (Redmond's Park and Rec).

I think she's pretty amazing and I love what she creates out of scraps and leftovers.  The class was AWESOME!  She called earlier in the day to make sure she brought the right supplies for me to create exactly what I wanted that night.  When I told her that my friend and I could only make it to the first class; she was cool with it, totally improvised and brought some extra stuff to send home with us so we could finish up our projects at home, even offering her own time and shop to us if we wanted it.

So, because I've had more than a few people messaging me about the pallet sign specifics, I thought I'd go over some of the details here - but I still think Katie's class is the best choice for locals.  She will even do private classes for groups of 5 or more for $40 per person.  Her tips, insight and help is worth the cost of the class alone.  She's absolutely great -- and knows her stuff!

 

The Basic Instructions:

It's a little difficult to show you the steps with a mostly finished product but I did my best to "recreate" the moment for you.



I borrowed this pic from her page to show you how she arrives in class.

We started with premade sign boards built from ripped pallets.  Katie went over all the specifics to teach which pallets to look for, how to tear them apart and how she assembles the individual signs.

(Heat treated pallets, a rip saw, a staple gun and a saw to cut everything to length and sander - though she said she'd created the same sign with just a hammer, nails and handsaw and sandpaper.) 

Did I mention she's amazing?


I can't get over the hanger.  It's made with a keyhole router bit and I can't wait to get one of my own! Until then, any picture frame hanger would work, too.

After choosing our premade sign boards, we chose the paint color for the back ground and learned some dry brushing techniques to maintain the rustic character of some of the wood.  Paint samples, a paint brush and paper towel is all we needed.

Katie also prepared some printed pictures with our names in different fonts to give us options for our design.  She uses a word processor and regular printer.  In class, we flip the paper over and coat the back with regular #2 pencil graphite.  In theory, we created our own transfer paper.  We cut up the designs and taped them to our boards the way we wanted them. We then used a ballpoint pen to outline the design, creating light transfer lines on our boards. Easy peasy but a little time consuming so it was nice to be able to finish up at home.

I was a little surprised that Katie prefers using a Sharpie to fill in the design.  She has also used a tiny paintbrush, but after seeing several samples of each and knowing my patience level with painting straight lines, I was all about using the Sharpie.  It gives the lettering a nice sheen and was pretty easy to use.

 

When the ink or paint is nice and dry, I went over it lightly with 150 grain sandpaper to give it a bit of a distressed look.  (Remember to go with the grain so you don't mess up your beautiful art!)

 

You can stop here if you'd like.

 

 

I almost did -- but I really like the aged and weathered look that glazing gives a piece, so I went on.  I applied a light coat of glaze with one rag and quickly wiped it off with another dry one to keep the coat light.  

 

And ... drumroll please:

 

 

 

I love it and think I might get a group of gals together to host one of Katie's private lessons -- with wine drinking and cheese nibbling.  Who's in?

 

 

One last pic just to show some size perspective to those who were inquiring.  

 

Lol - The next time you see this wall it might just be covered --- ooooohhhhhhh!  Think of all the wonderful wine quotes that could fill this spot...  I think my imagination just exploded with ideas.  If anyone needs me, I'll be in the shop, er, I mean garage...

Finding Peace

Just a nod to say, "Hey."

 

I went to visit some old friends today.

  

Not many people understand why I always find the time to veer out of my way to give them a nod, but these horses once helped me hold it together.

 

It was a different time, in a different place, at a different stage of life.  We were living in an apartment above a barn while we were building our house.  I had just undergone a second surgery to treat endometriosis.  (I'm afraid you'll have to Google it if you want the dreary details.  I don't like talking about it anymore.)  We'd already been through several miscarriages but remained commited to take whatever measures necessary to build our family.  I was on fertility drugs.  It was an emotional, frightening and difficult time in our lives. There were more than a few moments that I think we both believed I had truly lost my mind.  Hormones do that.

 

This majestic team of Belgians lived just down the road.  I passed them every trip into town and then back again.  There was something about their beauty that mesmerized me.  I would often pull to the shoulder of the road just to watch them.  Their muscled outlines, their playful spirits; they intrigued me. They were strong and powerful, built to pull heavy wagons and bred for work.  Yet there was an ease and grace about them that held me captive.  The protective stand of a mother next to her foal, the sunlight bouncing off a bright mane as they ran, the gentle nuzzle of that big, soft nose -- I never tired of watching them.

 

They calmed the chaos.  They brought me peace.  They reminded me that there was amazing beauty in strength.  They reminded me that even during the toughest trials, there was something to be said about putting a chin up, facing the sun and carrying on with grace.  The knowing twinkle of their eyes and soft whinny could coax a smile from me, even on the days I only wanted to cry.  They reminded me of a bigger picture, a bigger plan.  They reminded me that life was going on all around me and it was beautiful and awe inspiring.  Around them, I was always filled with a sense that it didn't matter what the future brought, everything really would be okay.

And it was.  

 

As if to say, "You're Welcome."

 

The fertility drugs didn't work for us but the lesson I learned still resonates deep within.  Life may get hard and we don't always get what we want; but on any given day, all we have to do is step away from the chaos to find beauty, to find strength, to find peace, to find grace.  That's what these horses did for me and it's hard to articulate how grateful I am for them.  They gave me everything I needed to get through that difficult time and many more.  They taught me what I needed to learn to build a great life.

 

Thank you, Mac McIntosh and the Lazy M Ranch for helping to fill my world with so much beauty.  These horses mean a great deal to me, as I'm sure they do to many others.

The Elusive Pine Marten

I have a funny story.  Well, at least I think it is funny; so funny, in fact, that it's hard to write about it without breaking into fits of laughter along the way.

I spent my late teens and early twenties up on local ski hills teaching people how to ski.  It was a long time ago, during the age of library cards and encyclopedia sales, definitely pre-dating the invention of the Internet.  The only thing that 'googled' back then were tiny, glue on, craft eyes.

This may come as a surprise, but ski instructors serve multiple roles on a mountain.  Sure, we taught the basic technique of remaining in an upright position on a downhill slope with sticks attached to one's feet; but we are also were babysitters, tour guides, rent-a-ski-buddies and an informal concierge. In addition to memorizing mountain trail maps; it was important to know the names of all the Cascade peaks between Shasta and Rainier, the lakes along Century Drive and the little facts that make each one special, the geology behind steam vents, recent weather patterns, the difference between different pine tree species and why some only grow at specific elevations but also, of course, the basics about local wildlife -- both the animals on the hill and the après ski hot spots in town.  Thank goodness, I was at the perfect age to absolutely know it all and I never second guessed myself or my answers to mountain guests.

Flash forward 20+ years, my husband and I were in Wyoming at the National Elk Reserve Visitor Center.  They had mounts of all the common wildlife in an exhibit and I saw a critter I had never seen before.  It was little but it was a ferocious looking thing, reminiscent of the Jabberwocky, you know, the one with 'jaws that bite and claws that catch' we are warned to beware of in middle school lit. classes.  I asked if it was some sort of mini-wolverine.  My husband seemed surprised that I didn't recognize the beast.

"Hun, that's a Pine Marten.  I'm surprised you haven't seen one of those before," he said with a quizzical chuckle.  After all, hadn't I spent hundreds of hours skiing on a mountain with both a lodge and ski lift named after the same animal?

"Whoa, wait...  You mean to tell me THAT is a Pine Marten?!"  I stood in disbelief and then started laughing.

Sure I'd seen Pine Martens.  I had even pointed them out to guests, explaining that they were the equivalent of mountain squirrels, playful and fun to watch, perfectly harmless.  I said they fed on pine nuts and bugs and we were lucky to catch glimpses of them because they were really quite shy.  I can't tell you how many people I shared this information with but I'm certain it was many.  So many, in fact, that I am still laughing...  I'm not sure where I learned about Pine Martens in the first place but I'm pretty sure the person who informed me about them is laughing, too!  (Could it have possibly been from a certain boy who knew I'd never venture off into the trees with him had I known these critters had fangs?  Highly suspicious, indeed!)

For the record, Pine Martens are weasels.  They eat birds, eggs and squirrels.  They have semi-retractable claws, making them unique in the weasel world, enabling them to be skillful tree climbers. They are elusive and nocturnal hunters.  I still think they are pretty cute -- at least from a distance and when they aren't hissing or killing something.
 

 

Stuffed Portabello Mushroom Caps

Fresh eggs have returned to the farm!

With the increased number of eggs, comes the hunt for new ways to use them.  This was an incredible find and definitely share worthy. Portabello caps, a drizzle of speciality olive oils, fresh eggs with golden yolks and garden fresh basil roasted to perfection.  We had fresh mozzarella on the side, tonight, but I think next time we will shred it right on top before roasting.

What you will need:

Portabello mushrooms, washed and dried with stems removed

Eggs

Olive oil with rosemary

Olive oil infused with black truffle

Fresh basil

Thyme, dried

Pepper

Sea salt

Cover baking sheet with foil and spray with non-stick cooking spray.  Place mushroom caps and drizzle lightly with both olive oils.  (A hint here: a few drops of the flavor infused oil goes a long way, don't over-do it.)  Crack egg in separate dish, then pour gently into mushroom cap without breaking yolk.  (This is easy with fresh eggs.). Large Portabellos will take more than one egg.  Our eggs are still small so we used 2-3 for each cap.  Add fresh basil, sprinkle with thyme, salt and pepper.  Place in 300 degree oven for 12-25 minutes depending on size of mushrooms and filling.  We cooked them long enough to cook the yolks through.  The bigger mushrooms did accumulate a bit of moisture in the cap as the mushroom cooked down, I simply drained it before placing on the serving dish.  

This is great for a hearty meal on a meatless night.  I am already thinking of foods to add for variations of it - sautéed asparagus spears?  Bacon?  Sun roasted tomatoes?  Capers served with cool cucumber sauce on the side?  Oh yes!  This is a good one!

These are my olive oil favorites.  The truffle oil is difficult to find outside of a specialty gourmet shop (or Amazon) and a peek at the price tag may send you in the opposite direction with empty hands thinking that it's not worth it. I'm here to tell you, it's worth every cent and a little goes a long way. There is a reason the spice trade has been going on since 3000 BC - spices, herbs and seasoning turn "average" into AMAZING.  Be brave, take risks, try new tastes.

The Thing about my Birthday...

I don't always celebrate my birthday.  It's not always a happy day for me.  In fact, there are years that it is one of the toughest days I struggle through.  It has nothing to do with me or the fact I'm getting older or anything else even remotely related to the typical reasons some people don't celebrate their special day.  It has to do with grief and the unpredictable process that it imbibes.

I lost a close friend in an avalanche the day before I turned 22.  He was the first friend I thought I'd never be able to live without.  He was the kind of friend who understood the not-so-easy to understand parts of a teenager struggling to grow up and young woman floundering to assimilate her adult identity.  We shared something special and I was so fortunate to have that time with him. Losing him devastated me.

It's been over twenty years and this is what I can tell you about grief -- it never leaves you.  It becomes a part of you and there is no going back to the person you once were.  Everyone finds their own path through it and no two paths are the same.  Time doesn't heal this wound, but it does provide you the opportunity to figure out what 'the new you' needs in your life to survive it.  It will get easier but there will also be blindsiding moments that knock you down and take the wind out of you as if you had just been told the gutwrenching news.

This was one of those years.  I don't believe logic and grief have anything to do with each other so I don't waste time trying to figure out "the why" anymore.  It just happens.  I accept it, let myself be sad and detach for a little while.  I nurture my soul, regroup my thoughts and come out on the other side a little bit older and a hell of a lot stronger.

I share this because it's only when we stop talking about loved ones that they are truly gone.  I share this because I have a handful of friends and family making their own way through loss and sometimes knowing someone else is fighting the same battle somehow helps.  I share this because I was flaky and dismissive about well intended and thoughtful celebration plans this year and feel an explanation is due.  I share this because it's part of me.  It's gritty, it's dark, it's raw, it's a struggle, but it's me.  There is a reason I seek out the light of a sunset, sunrise and stars.  It is to help fill this dark spot.

Thank you for all of the happy birthday wishes and forgive me for maybe being a little more distant than usual.  I appreciate your thoughtfulness and all the great things you bring into my life.  Next year, we party like rock stars.

Blueberry Lemon Cake Martini

It's "just enough" sweet balanced with the perfect amount of tart.  It quenches your thirst but leaves you wanting more.  It advances a fruity foo foo cocktail to the next level and adds a twist of sophistication.  Move over Cosmopolitan.  (Insert wink here.)

1 part Three Olives Cake Vodka

2 parts Simply Lemonade with Blueberry

Lemon slice to garnish

Rim chilled martini glass with squeeze of fresh lemon.  Add vodka and juice to shaker over liberal amounts of ice.  Shake vigorously, until frost appears on outside of shaker.  Pour into martini glass and garnish with fresh lemon slice.  Enjoy!

Crockpot Broccoli Beer Cheese Soup with Bacon

1 package of bacon, cut into small pieces

1 large yellow onion, chopped

2 tablespoons of garlic, minced

6 tablespoons of flour

2 cans of evaporated milk (12 ounces each)

1 bottle of Black Butte Porter 

3 cups of chicken broth

5 cups of broccoli florets, stems removed

16 ounces of sharp cheddar cheese, grated

2 tablespoons of butter

1/2 cup of cream or half & half

Salt

Pepper

Garnish: spoonful of sour cream and finely sliced green onions

Sauté bacon until cooked, drain off most of the fat from the pan but leave 2-3 tablespoons.  Add onions. Continue cooking over medium heat until translucent then add minced garlic.  Continue over medium heat, stirring often.  Add flour 2 tablespoons at a time and stir into paste.  Slowly add evaporated milk and stir until well combined.  Add half the Porter slowly and incorporated over low heat.  Add salt and pepper to taste.

Chop broccoli florets into bite sized pieces and put into crockpot.  Cover with remaining beer, broth and then slowly pour rest of mixture over the broccoli.  Set crockpot on high and cook stirring occasionally for 3-4 hours.

Turn crockpot to warm (or off), add butter, cream and grated cheese stirring in to incorporate.  Serve with a dollop of sour cream on top with a sprinkle of green onions.

Triple Chocolate Porter Cupcakes?! Yes!

Want to add a little depth to a cake box cupcake?  Add some adult flavor to an old favorite?  Easy peasy!  

Replace the water in any cake box mix recipe (I used Betty Crocker's Triple Chocolate Fudge) with your favorite Porter or Stout.  Kona's Pipeline Porter has the added layer of Kona coffee.  I also split the oil measurement with half sour cream and half olive oil for a bit more tang and to add density. The only thing I kept the same was the number of eggs I added.

Easy, chocolate and Porter.  Three of my favorite words.  I don't know if they will last long enough to frost!

Crockpot Pork Tenderloin

Oh my yum!  Beyond bacon or an occasional good ham, I'm not a giant fan of pork but this meal is a double thumbs up at our house and so easy to throw together that it's a "must share".

The pork tenderloin is currently available at Costco in sealed packages sold by the 4 pack.  I usually cook 2 at a time because we have a large crockpot and the leftovers make incredible sandwiches. The hardest part about this recipe is simply remembering to take the meat out of the freezer to thaw the day before!

The measurements are flexible.  I never make it the same way twice and it has never failed to turn out great every time.

The basic ingredients are:

Pork tenderloin roasts

Garlic

Wine, a red cab or merlot

Broth, we use chicken broth

Rubbed sage

Rosemary

Salt

Pepper

Brown sugar

Balsamic vinegar

Cornstarch

Horseradish, cut or creamed (optional)

Add 2 minced cloves of garlic to bottom of crockpot, rinse the tenderloins and put them on top of the garlic.  I then add 1-2 cups of leftover red wine and fill the rest with a combo of broth and/or water. Sprinkle in the teaspoon of sage, teaspoon of rosemary, salt and pepper.  I make sure the tenderloins are covered or just barely peeking out.

Turn the crockpot on low for an all day roast or high for a 4-6 hour cook time and go on with your day.

The pork should be cooked through to an internal temperature of 160 degrees.  I pull it out and shred it into large chunks in a 9x11 baking dish, covered with foil to keep it warm.  

In a saucepan mix 1 to 2 cups of the broth from the crockpot, 2-3 tablespoons of brown sugar, a teaspoon-ish of minced garlic, a half a cup of balsalmi vinegar, salt, pepper and a tiny bit of minced horseradish.  A tablespoon or two of corn starch will thicken it.  Sometimes I use it, sometimes I don't.  Heat this mixture up stirring until it boils, then pour over the shredded pork.

I broil the pork in the oven, turning the shredded pork over a few times, until the topping coats and sticks to most pieces.  Sometimes I skip this step, too.  The sweeter I make it, the more important this step is but my husband isn't a big fan of sweet so a light coat of sauce is plenty and glazing it on to make a nice crust isn't as important.

My favorite way to serve this is on a toasted potato roll bun, smeared with a light coat of creamed horseradish but I've watched a grown man eat it with a fork, right out of the serving dish.

The Pink and Purple Panther

It's a cousin of Cupid's Cup (http://cocktails.about.com/od/vodkadrinkrecipes/r/cherub_cup.htm) and the Red Martini Bar's (Redmond, Oregon) Cupid's Kiss!

Crisp, light, dry and fruity but not too sweet.  A perfect cocktail to sip in the hot tub!  

Happy Valentines Day!

Muddle:

1/4 cup (or handful) of fresh or frozen huckleberries

2 oz vodka

1 oz St. Germain

Loosely strain mixture over ice:

Finish with a light layer of Pink Moscato Champagne

or substitute Sprite or seltzer water in place of champagne.

Stir and enjoy!

Things My Nephew Taught Me

He was so tiny when he was born.  His head would move around in his newborn hat.  Swaddling blankets swallowed him among the folds.  He was quiet and soft and precious.  We knew he was different.  We knew this kid was destined to be a part of our family.  A mother with one ovary on birth control, a father recovering from stage 4 testicular cancer and an extra chromosome?! The statistics behind his existence are simply astronomical - and yet, he is ours today as much as we are his.  Factor THAT mathematicians...

The fact Grant was different might had captured more attention but it was about the time the genetic testing was back that my siblings and I converged together to care for my father.  My dad was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer with weeks, if not days left to live.  Priorities fell into place.  This great man needed his kids to be more than we'd ever imagined being.  That was the first lesson.  It didn't matter this sweet baby was different or what the official tests said.  Seeing him, holding him, just knowing him helped make us all a little bit stronger and it came at a time we needed it most.

He loved to be held and rocked and cuddled.  He rarely cried.  It didn't matter who was holding him, this child has always radiated love and patience and kindness.  His mom would say, "Watch out, he's grabbing hair now," and I'm sure her warnings were not without reason but most of the time, when he reached for hair, it was with a gentle brushing touch, as if he was amazed that something could ever be so soft and shiny. 

I don't know when he started hugging back but I can't remember a time that he didn't so it must have been from the beginning.  The kid is an Ahhhh-MAZING hugger.  This was the next lesson.  He doesn't hold back.  He doesn't cling to the past.  He doesn't fear the future.  He doesn't calculate the appropriate level of love he should emit, he simply loves and you feel it in his hugs.  He grips you with both arms, pulls you in close and then melts into you until his little body is limp but his arms and legs have you completely wrapped.  It's pure.  It's genuine.  It's raw love.  Why don't we all hug like that?  Why don't we all love like that?  Why do we complicate the simple things?  Love is boundless.  Why do we protect it, limit it and hide it?  Jesus.  Let that sh -- stuff -- flow!

His hugs changed me.  His capacity for love changed me.  His patience changed me.  His simple goodness changed me.  I'd been an empathetic caregiver, nurse even, for years but just being near him changed me into someone better.  I worry less.  I let go of little things more readily.  I don't care if I don't fit in.  It's okay to be different.  It's okay to stand out.  It's okay to not hit landmarks and to have my own learning curve.  I love more openly.  I give more frequently.  I invest less materialistically and much more spiritually.  I don't hold onto anger as long and have learned that hate is truly a toxic waste of energy. 

Grant is full of love and joy and discovery.  He has his own developmental timetable and schedule that is defined only by his own growth.  I love it.  We aren't rushed to meet the next landmark or disappointed when he doesn't, we just celebrate when he does.  It's a different way of looking at things and sooooo much more enjoyable.  It makes us all just a little more present in the moment.  I'm not going to lie, living in the present is the most altruistic feeling I've ever experienced.  You want to feel connected to something bigger than yourself?  Live in the present, if only for an instant, and you'll understand what I'm saying right here.

He's learning sign language because 90% of Down Syndrome kids have some sort of hearing impairment and his parents wanted to give him his best shot at keeping life long communication skills.  (Did I mention his parent's are incredible?)  An afternoon with Grant is a bit like watching the visiting team call plays from the sideline, but I've also learned that most communication is non-verbal, non-sign, and all we have to really do is pay attention.  That means putting down the "To Do" list, looking away from electronics and really making a human connection with each other.  We have never needed words - or signs - to have an amazing day or communicate about what's going on, though I have to admit, we are both working on each other's language.  He is amazingly patient with me and we laugh a lot about sounds and signs and what it all means when it's mushed up together.

My nephew has a different perspective than mine.  His is more true, untainted and real.  He calls it like he sees it.  He likes what he likes, which is nearly everything, but if he doesn't like it, he doesn't pretend to like it.  There is no drama, no emotional screen play; he simply lugs it over his shoulder and moves on.  Like pumpkins.  One of my best days with him was on his class field trip to the pumpkin patch.  It turns out, he's not really a pumpkin fan.  Instead of throwing a fit or ruining the fun of the day, he just threw his pumpkin somewhere behind him and kept pushing forward.  Goats were at the pumpkin patch, too, and he loves goats.  Wow, if we could all understand everything that just happened right there I think we'd live in a pretty amazing world, wouldn't we?

 

A lifetime of experiences and the biggest life lessons have come from a 3 year old and I can promise you, I've never been happier.