Pamela Horner's Blog, page 2

The Season of Magic

Well, the elves have been busy in the kitchen of the Horner house this December. We start stocking up on ingredients in November and roll up our sleeves early in December. The kitchen stays warm with the heat from the oven that stays lit on baking days. I wear more powdered sugar on my T shirt than actually makes it to the bowl, and I must have been over-zealous when I was beating the chocolate fudge as I found about six ounces of chocolate in my hair later that night. But, it all part of the process!

My mother began this tradition of mass baking so that we could make up trays of goodies. It was her way of saying “Thank you, we appreciate all you do and who you are.” I began to help more as the years went by and the pans became too heavy for her to lift, or the fudge was too thick for her to beat as well as she used to. I had no idea how much…muchness…went into her trays. The more I took over, the more I saw it as a chore, a laborious task to undertake in an already busy time. I would give a long-suffering sigh and wearily roll up my sleeves, dragging my feet as I entered the kitchen.

But let me tell you, there is magic in what she does. When I thumb through her old cookbooks, like my favorite Gold Medal Jubilee, with recipes spanning from 1880 ~ 1955, the memories of Christmases Past waft through my mind as sweetly as the baking smells waft from the ever-busy oven. The magic of giving your best blossoms like a spring flower as each tray is handed out and you can see the pleasure on faces of friends and family.

My mother reminds me of The Little Drummer Boy; she has always given her best by whatever means she had. May we always be reminded of the importance of thinking of others, and touched with the spirit of giving and love this Christmas and always.

Merry Christmas from the Horner family!  I have included two of the recipes that we use for our trays, and one is from the beloved Gold Medal book. I hope you try them and enjoy them as much as we do. Love and peace…and check your hair for chocolate!

 

Jubilee Jumbles (1955)

½ cup soft shortening

1 cup brown sugar (packed)

½ cup granulated sugar

2 eggs

1 cup undiluted evaporated milk or thick sour cream (I use sour cream)

1 tsp. vanilla

2 ¾ cups sifted Gold Medal Flour

½ tsp. soda

1 tsp. salt

Heat oven to 375 degrees. Mix thoroughly shortening, sugars, eggs. Stir in sour cream, vanilla. Sift together flour, soda, salt, and stir in. Blend in walnuts. Drop rounded tablespoonfuls 2 in. apart on greased baking sheet. Bake about 10 min., until delicately browned. Frost with Burn butter Glaze (recipe below). Makes about 4 dozen.

Burnt Butter Glaze

Heat 2 tbsp. butter until golden brown. Beat in until smooth 2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar and 14 cup undiluted evaporated milk.

 

Texas Millionaires (the turtle-like candies)

1 ~ 14 oz. package caramels, unwrapped

2 T butter or margarine

2 T water

3 cups chopped pecans

Wilton milk chocolate dipping chocolate wafers. I start with one package

 

Cook first three ingredients in a heavy saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly until smooth. Stir in pecan bits. Cool in pan five minutes.

Drop by tablespoonfuls onto lightly greased was paper. Chill one hour or freeze twenty minutes until firm.

Heat water over a double broiler. Remove from heat. Melt milk chocolate discs in double broiler, stirring until smooth. Dip caramel candies into melted chocolate, allowing excess to drip; place on lightly greased was paper. Let stand until firm. Yield: 4 dozen

What Are Your Bomblingers and Flimzingers?

The Christmas trees that adorn living rooms all around the globe are as varied and telling as the people who gather around them.  Each one is intentional and brimming with its own story. I find that an intriguing fact.  Well, let’s be honest.  I find everything about Christmas intriguing or I wouldn’t own several books that explain the origins of various traditions associated with Christmas, as well as the video The History of Christmas which finds its way into my VCR each year.  Yes, that is correct.  VCR.

 

Some houses present theme trees or trees with only certain colors.  Some are strictly organic and have only handmade and homespun ornaments or items from nature.  There are those that tell the story of ‘we are here because we had to do it’ and they wear only the stingiest of adornments.  Upside down trees, white, black, or brushed by a rotating color wheel.  The options march on and on, bearing the “jingtinglers” and “whohoopers” (from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas) of each person’s fancy.

 

I thought I would share some of my jingtinglers and whohoopers from my family’s tree.  True to form, it reflects the nature of my family. Ornaments that date from the 30’s and the 50’s (some still in their original boxes.  I know this to be a true statement because I get caught each year trying to hastily stuff them into the nearest box and move on).  Ornaments that are chipped here or cracked there, but patched and held together with hard work and promise.  A mishmash of lights of all colors.  Some of the lights are steady and still while others are chasing and changing, but if you wait patiently enough, they will shine beautifully.

 

My mother has kept each ornament that we as children would make, no matter how hideous, and they hang just as proudly next to ornaments that were purchased from a store.  As a matter of fact, my daughter and niece will move things around to make sure their creations are front and center.  Tara’s is a snowman who only has one leg and Ashley’s is the ‘traditional’ Christmas banana.  She claims it is the moon, and we let her tell this each year, but we know it looks like a banana.

 

What are your stories?  How are you represented on your trees?  People love to gaze at Christmas trees.  I wonder what stories they will read on yours?

Imbroglios and Kerfuffles? Why Not?

Imbroglios and Kerfuffles? Why Not?

Well, Thanksgiving is right around the corner. The turkey is lying in state in the freezer and the shelves are bursting with the assorted items that go into the dishes and bowls of goodness for the meal.

This is the time of year when a lot of people slow down a bit before the brisker pace of the Christmas season, and they reflect upon their year, their families, and their lives in general. I am no exception. I, too, take stock of my little existence in the greater world, and this is what I have found.

Let’s face it. My life has taken a path that has been a tad rocky. Not the cushiest, nor one that, when I was a child and I had my hand hovering over the box brimming with all of life’s choices, made my eyes light up and I would take my fat finger and point, crying with delight, “There! That one! That is the life for me!”

Again, I am no exception. A glimpse into most families’ living rooms would get a snapshot of bickering here, illness there, sadness sprinkled over some, financial problems…the list is endless. But it is within this list that I find a crucial point. It’s the ‘stuff’ that can sometimes make or break you. And if it ‘makes’ you, then God bless you, because He has.

When I look over my shoulder at the past, I see so much. Wonderful, loving, complex, and always, always, a plethora of imbroglios and kerfuffles, time after time of extremely complicated situations and mass confusion.

I maintain that it is because of, not in spite of, these hiccups in life that I feel so much happiness and love. Honestly, if some of this stuff that has gone down hasn’t killed my happy factor, then I think I am good to go. I believe that it is the bumps and the messy stains in life that bring out the fighter, the comforter, the problem-solver, or the compassion in each of  us, as each situation demands.

I will look around the Thanksgiving table this year, as I always do. My eyes will pass over the chairs of the loved ones who are no longer with us, and sure, I will get that lump that I always fight that threatens to choke me. But if I keep looking, I will see glimpses of those same loved ones in the face of this one, or in the mannerisms of another, or that cheeky smile come out on several faces, and I will know that they are still with us, indeed.

And all of this will make me happy and sad all at once, and I will be overwhelmed by the love I have for this life, warts and all. And I will try; I swear I will try, as I near exhaustion and someone complains, not to act upon my inner desire to dip some of their faces in the mashed potatoes as that glow fades. God bless us all, and Happy Thanksgiving!

Goats, Books, and Bears…Oh, My!

 

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not a superstitious, throw-salt-over-my-shoulder kind of girl. Usually. But I am telling you now, if one more freaky thing of chance happens this month, all bets are off and I am avoiding ladders, black cats, and indoor umbrellas!

 

If any of you have seen Back to the Future II, the 1989 sequel to the popular movie Back to the Future, or if you have tapped into social media the last few weeks, you are probably familiar with the movie’s prediction that the Chicago Cubs win the World Series in 2015. You may also have heard that the Cubs are playing the St. Louis Cardinals Friday, October 9, 2015, for the first of a best-of-five dance to see who will win the…you guessed it. The 2015 World Series. For the Cubs, this rarely happens. How rare? How about not winning a pennant since October 6, 1945, the day the Cubs were cursed by a disgruntled bar owner who was told to remove his goat from the stands because it smelled bad. He had purchased the goat a ticket and everything, according to goat/Cub lore! The Cubs fan left, but not before cursing the team from winning another Series.

 

Now I am not one to spread rumors or consort with conjecture, but, uh…well, we haven’t. Yet.

 

Now, let’s take my father, the late Jack Horner (yes, before we go on, that really was his name). He was the son of an entire family of Cub fans. As an adult, he and his group of friends spent a week in Arizona each spring during Cubs’ spring training. He bought my sister and me Cubs pennants to put in our rooms, with the instruction to, “Salute it each morning!” I think, for many of us, being a fan of a certain team is a family tradition, passed down from generation to generation. I know that is true in my family. So this die-hard Cub’s fan had an October birthday. Let’s see, when could that be? You guessed it; October 6.

 

Lastly, my first novel, Acts of Courage, a young adult historical fiction piece, was just published, first as an e-book and soon to come out in paperback. It goes without saying that between those pages lay months and months of writing and blood, sweat, and tears. To say I am is an understatement, but I want to leave you with this…the publication date of my novel is…wait for it…October 6, 2015.

 

I don’t know if the movie is right, the goat has given up, or Dad and Harry Caray had some pull Upstairs, but all of this greatness has my head spinning. I had better close for now. I have a toy stuffed red bird upstairs that has its name all over this straight pin I am holding…Go Cubs!

Ice cream bread? Curious, indeed.

So, my mother’s friend was visiting with us last week when he happened to mention something that really caught my attention. Ice cream bread.  I was both sickened and oddly drawn to the idea.

 Of course, I initially envisioned a soggy slab of bread swimming in a scoop of the melted swill, all messily encased in a bread pan and roughly shoved into the oven.  Not the case.  I began to investigate this curiosity, and I find that I have become semi-crazed with this new sensation.

 Two ingredients.  Two cups of ice cream and one and one-half cups of self-rising flour.  That intrigues me.  So does the fact that you can peruse the ice cream shelves, imagining the scents of endless varieties of flavors wafting from your oven.

 I have, in one week, tried Hagen Daaz’s Pineapple Coconut and their Artisan Chocolate Caramelized Oat, and Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, to which I added a pinch of salt and a handful of mini-chocolate chips.  Pretty sure I am still licking my lips over that one.

 The way I look at it, I have a couple of options.  Either I hit it big cranking out these oddly intriguing little loaves of curious flavors, or I could end of looking like one the 1970’s SNL characters from the big-butted Widette family.

Have you tried ice cream bread yet? 

In Retro-Spect

In Retro-spect

 

I understand the concept of ‘living in the moment’. Truly. It makes sense as you have no guarantee you will be handed the next moment. So speaking on the levels of spirituality, wisdom, and good common sense, you should live every moment as if it were your last. Got it? Good.

Now, here is my conundrum. I love the past. Apparently, even though I did not realize it, retro appears to be my thing. Years ago, I was asked if I would be interested in joining a group of reenactors of the Civil War period, but it would be to portray the dances of that time. We would be called the Lawrence County Victorian dancers. At first I balked at the idea; I thought I would feel silly being dressed in garb from the days of yore, but I love to dance so…why not? I learned the dances of the Civil War era, the mannerisms, the culture, and now it was time to suit up. Yikes, I thought.

Let me tell you, when I first stepped into the clothing in which I thought I would feel awkward, I shed all elements of the present and gratefully sank into the 1860’s as if I belonged there. It was almost creepy how comfortable I was. Those years when I was involved with that group hold some of my most treasured memories.

I used to be invited to an annual event called “Hippy Days”. Again, I thought I would feel silly trying to round up articles of clothing from the 60’s and 70’s, but in the interest of fun, I decided to be a good sport and give it a try.

Guess what? Nailed it! I lost all sense of the present as I spun and whirled to the music of my childhood and teen years, sometimes in a maxi skirt and beads and some years in pants with huge bell bottoms and a halter top. Loving every minute of it.

 I am in the process of writing a new story set in the 20’s and 30’s, so of course I have immersed myself in the clothing styles of the times. While I have not totally embraced the look of those particular decades, it has whetted my appetite for throwback clothes yet again. It is 2015, and I jfound this this site that specializes in retro outfits. I couldn’t help myself. I just had to have a retro dress from the ‘50’s.

My granddaughter, Lennon Blue, can very famously rock any outfit from any decade without breaking her stride or blinking an eye. I have loved watching her don outfits ranging from trending to retro, but my heart clings to those throwback styles she slings on so effortlessly.

So, to those of us who cannot be confined to any one decade but embrace them all, I say let us wear them loud and proud. We are not just of this moment; we are truly made of every moment that has led us to where we are. Remember, as Lennon Blue wore, “Penny Lane made me do it”!

 

postscript: Regarding the controversial and much-talked about ‘novel’ Go Set a Watchman, I have just a word.  Don’t.

A Snippet, If You Will (Part II)

There was this woman in our class who had a white poodle. That stinking thing was the star of the show. She did everything right and the owner clicked away the whole night. The instructor had asked this woman and her poodle to demonstrate the proper ways to do this or that. It was disgusting to watch while Maximus pooped and slobbered and acted like an imbecile. This night, our second lesson, the woman had shown up with her poodle and they both wore matching red bandanas. Very cheeky, if you ask me, and a bit overdone, but maybe I was just jealous…

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Taking the Plunge

Well, I finally did it; I purchased a copy of Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman. I have put this off until now because I could hardly stomach the thought of the tampering, even the tiniest bit, with the beloved characters of To Kill a Mockingbird, a long-time favorite of mine.

I teach Mockingbird in the 8th grade, and each year when I open to that first page and dive in, it is like I am reading it for the first time. I find nuances and meaning and heart that I somehow missed during the first several readings. It is that kind of book – the kind that makes you feel like you are sitting at the feet of a trusted sage who knows the ins and outs of the world and will let you in on its secrets.

I admire Atticus Finch to the nth degree. He is one of my favorite literary characters. I often wonder how Atticus would handle certain situations when I find myself in a fix that would be best handled if one would look at it from the front porch of that other person. He is my literary go-to man.

I normally stay away from remakes and Part II, III, etc. I find that, for the most part, I have been bitterly disappointed. The exception to this rule is the movie remake of A Christmas Carol. I own the book and several movie versions of this classic, and my favorite adaptation is the 1981 version starring George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge. Brilliant.

But I am going to give this a whirl. How could I not, after reveling in a game-changing novel brimming with wisdom and heart like Mockingbird? So, I am going to set aside my doubts and fears and reenter Maycomb, Alabama, tonight. I will let you know if I want to set up residence there or if I will run out screaming in the streets. People, I’m going in.

When All Else Fails, Chew Gum

When All Else Fails, Chew Gum

I am a daughter, a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, and a teacher. I am also a caregiver. Many of you can already identify with this list because you, too, may wear one, many or all of those hats. It’s challenging, fulfilling, exhausting, terrifying, and that is when you do one or two at a time. But by golly, when you pile all of those bad boys on at once, well, let’s just say that for a girl whose life barely had any balance on a good day, it isn’t pretty.

As many of you know, when you are a caretaker, you tend to not only the special needs, but also the everyday needs that have become a challenge for that person. Okay, so you work a bit harder and sleep a bit less. Fine.

A snapshot, if you will. In the past one and one-half months, my eighty-six year old mother and I have had company (that person was ninety-one), and then a five-day stay from my three grandchildren while my niece, daughter, and son-in-law were in Las Vegas. My son-in-law had made it to the finals in Vegas for the American Ninja Warrior 2015. Super. I mean that with my whole heart. But while he was dodging obstacle courses and swinging from giant wind chimes, I was dodging wall-to-wall air mattresses, food found under those air mattresses, gum stuck between DVD’s, electronic devices and cords from every outlet, and swinging from wet towels, wet clothes (from both pool water and urine variety), baby dolls, and canes.

Note: when they left, and I had cleaned up the best I could from the ‘shock and awe’ that had hit, I dragged myself to the kitchen. It was somewhat bare, as I had not restocked after all of our assorted company. I looked at the carcass that was our kitchen. It looked like locust had come through. Then I remembered that I had found a loaf of bread under a pile of blankets the day before. I had rescued it, thinking it was one of the few things that had escaped the waterfall of urine that erupted from the three-year old during the night.. Ah ha! I made some toast and collapsed on the chair. Peace, at last!

I took a bite. Yes, I did. Let’s just get that out there. I thought it tasted funny, so I opened the bread sack and sniffed. Yes. That is correct. Alas, the bread had not escaped the Mount Vesuvius of Lennon-urine, and I partook.

I had an appointment with my chiropractor because my back went out hoeing in the garden that my grandsons HAD to have. (Where are they, you ask? That is for another blog.) He asked, “How are you?” I debated; I really did. I thought about doing the usual, you know, “Fine, and how are you?” But you know how you are facedown on that table-thing, and when he pushes on your spine and the air goes PHWET? Well, out with it came something like this…

“I am a plethora of disgust. I go for days without brushing my hair. I realized this when I was at Wal-Mart and caught a glimpse of someone who looked like that girl on Sweeney Todd and it was ME. I have gone up to two days without brushing my teeth and I am feeling less and less regret about that fact. The last time I took a shower, I thought I had really accomplished a great feat. I sat down on the living room floor afterward and wrapped my arms around my legs…and yelped in pain. I had managed to shave one leg, but the other forgotten appendage (and I have no idea why I only shaved one) was so long neglected that I am pretty sure I still have scratches on the insides of my arm.”

There were a couple of beats of silence, and then he asked, “Would you like a stick of gum?”

And that, folks, about sums it up. When all else fails, chew gum!

A Snippet, If You Will…

A Snippet, If You Will…

Sometimes, people have a tendency to think they are stuck in a humdrum, ho hum, boring, never-changing existence. Well, I can relate. I truly can. People like us look at the lives of others and we think, “Wow. I would love to live their life, even for a few days.” Sometimes, we would like to be thrown a bone; to have even a snippet, if you will, of some else’s life. Let me demonstrate what I mean. Here is a random sampling from a few days of my life. Hold the yawns, please…

I have always liked dogs. Not just any dog, though, I was choosy. I searched and searched until I found the perfect dog.
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