Yearly Archives: 2010

Comfort and Joy

My brother and I are talking about putting together a workout routine for the holidays … so we can eat more. Seriously.  There are just too many delectable delights this time of year; one mustn’t miss out!

And, since my brother has put in many a request to our mum, I decided to jump on the bandwagon as well.  True, it’s not like I live far away.  Not to mention, I can {and have} made everything she makes.  Still, it’s somehow better when mom makes it.   

For example:  French Breakfast Muffins.  Oh, my friends … there are no words.  They melt in your mouth; and the hint of nutmeg is comforting, like Christmas should be .  Even my wee nephew loved them {and Americans know nothing about breakfast … obviously; it took him three mornings to get hard boiled eggs for crying out loud}. 

I wish I could invite you all over for a plate of their buttery goodness; but since I can’t, I’ve attached the recipe.  They’re perfect for a holiday brunch, Christmas morning, or even a wintery afternoon tea {or fika, as the case may be}.

Ingredients:

½ cup shortening

½ cup sugar

1 egg

1 ½ cups flour*

1 ½ tsp baking powder

½ tsp salt

¼ tsp nutmeg

½ cup milk

½ cup sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

½ cup butter, melted

Directions:

  1. To prepare, heat oven to 350° and grease muffin pan.
  2. Mix thoroughly: shortening, ½ cup sugar, and the egg.
  3. Stir in flour, baking powder, salt and nutmeg, alternately with milk. 
  4. Fill muffin cups 2/3 full and bake 20 to 25 minutes.
  5. Mix ½ sugar and cinnamon. 
  6. Immediately after baking, roll muffins in melted butter, then in cinnamon-sugar mixture. 
  7. Serve hot … with coffee or ice cold milk, preferably!

Download PDF: French breakfast muffins

’tis the season

As you might imagine, our days have been busy around here.  We’ve been making visits, meeting friends–and servicing a few more milk runs that usual. 

It’s been a hodge-podge.

The other day, my sister-in-law mentioned that it doesn’t seem like Christmas.  I must admit it’s true.  Could be the fact that we’re trying to squeeze in a thousand different things … could be the rain … could be the fact that I’m behind, as usual.  Although, be it known, it was not entirely my fault this year.  I kept waiting for jobs to come through, invoices to be paid.  Buying gifts and placing them under the tree did not meet deadline.  Sigh. 

My nephew summed it up nicely while waiting for ice cream at “the home” on Saturday, when he suddenly yelled, Jag måste ha tålamod!  I MUST HAVE PATIENCE!  It’s something I tell myself on a regular basis … but now I’m going to fist pump the air and yell for all I’m worth. Maybe that will work.  At least it’s worth a  try.

So, with that, I’m off to finish Christmas cards … maybe wrap a present or two … drink some nog … watch a Christmas movie … you know, partake in the festive sorts.  At least I’m off to take a shower before the wee one wakes up, being it’s just the two of us this morning. 

Oh, and how could I forget?  That lost piece of luggage?  It ended up on our doorstep late Thursday night–a Christmas miracle, non?!

Look who’s here

Well, my family arrived on Wednesday evening, early even … and from a connection in Denver, no less!  A Christmas miracle right there.  The trip went well … my nephew was a trooper … we can all be thankful.  The only letdown:  someone stole their suitcase with all their Christmas presents.  Needless to say we’re praying for another miracle–some are praying nicer prayers than others.  I won’t mention any names, but someone in this family is praying that God harangues them mercilessly. MERCILESSLY I tell you!  I mean really, who steals someone’s Christmas presents?  More importantly, who steals someone’s Christmas chocolate?!  That’s just rude. 

Nonetheless, the best gifts of all are here. 

We’ve been chatting and laughing; hugging and kissing; coloring and drawing pictures; playing cars and running races–in other words, having the best time ever. 

And I pray the same for you, dear friends; may your weekend be filled with the most precious of moments … and the most precious of people with which to share them…

Say what: hullabaloo?!

Hullabaloo {huhl-uh-buh-loo}.  A loud and uproarious noise … not the least bit pleasant, I’m sure.  However, quite informally, it may be used to signify festivities or an air of excitement. 

My example:  Preparing for family to arrive for a long Christmas visit makes for quite the hullabaloo!

The kits, on the other hand, would like to admonish you not to stray too far from the original meaning–more specifically, chaos

Their example:  We are not sure what all the hullabaloo is about–but it seems to have something to do with a funky-looking chair parked on the living room floor … and what appears to be a wee bed.  We do not know what it means, but we do not like it … no sir …we do not like it one bit. 

Oh, if only they knew…

Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische.

Remembrance

{Tiffany windows of St. Peter's Chapel, Mare Island}

During my undergraduate studies, I was assigned the task of taking down an oral history.  Thanks to that assignment I had the pleasure of meeting a festy little lady by the name of  Hester, who worked in Mare Island’s flag loft during WWII. 

She worked eight hours a day, six days a week, in a stuffy, second story room where rows upon rows of women worked, side-by-side, by machine and by hand, sewing.  They sewed American flags, signal flags, table linens, and the occasional carpenter pant. 

I sat in rapt attention as she told story after story … of the care that went into each piece … the grueling days … the weekend dances that got them through … and the reason it was all worthwhile.

For December 7, 1941–after the bombing of Pearl Harbor–it was reported the Japanese were headed for Mare Island. People were panic stricken–screaming and pulling at their hair.  Luckily, an attack on Mare Island never happened … but the people never forgot.  The war, you see, had come to their doorstep.

I think of Hester often, but especially on Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. She was a tangible reminder that the bombing of Pearl Harbor was more than a date in history … it was real people, with real lives, and real stories.  Military and civilian alike, they made the highest sacrifice … and for that, let us never forget.