R.I.P. Carol Charles

Sometimes life has a way of kicking you in the head. Times like today, when I learned my friend Carol had suddenly passed away. I last spoke to her about three or four weeks ago, regarding a lunch date that had been postponed several times for one reason or another since the first of the year, and she seemed fine. Not feeling well, but nothing earth-shaking—or so it seemed at the time. She was going to call me when she felt better. I had intended to call her this week to see how she was doing, but somehow something else always intervened, so I didn’t.

Now today I can’t call her. It’s too late, and my friend and I will never share time together ever again. I’m still in shock, I guess, and there are so many things I wish I had said. You truly never know when your time will be up, and as St. Nicholas (the second spirit to visit on Christmas Eve) tells Ebenezer in the movie Scrooge!, “Suddenly you’re not there anymore.”

I feel at such a loss for words trying to say what’s on my mind.  How do you? The best thing about Carol was that she cared. She genuinely cared about the people around her, and knowing her made a difference in their lives. She was kind when she didn’t have to be, and she reached out to people (me among them) who probably would not have reached out to her. She did the little things that count so much, like bringing over lunch when I felt too sick to go out. I miss her, and I will be missing her for a very long time, because she made me a better person simply because I knew her. It’s the highest praise I can think of. Rest in Peace, my dear friend. You are missed!


ON THE SUDDEN LOSS OF A FRIEND

I meant to call you
All last week,
And even the week before,
But somehow I always ended up
Busy
Or sidetracked.
Then, this morning Sam came home
And said,
“I’ve got a shock for you.”
I couldn’t imagine what
He would tell me—
Certainly anything about you
Could not have been farther
From my mind.

We never got our last lunch date,
And there were so many things
I could have said
About how wonderful you are.
I can’t remember you
Except smiling and laughing,
And you were the kindest person
I knew.
You were the one who
Took me to chemo
And held my hand when I cried.
You were the first one
To ask for a copy of my book,
And you never cared
If there was dog hair on my floors.

You were the best, my friend,
And I will miss you.

Doomsday Preppers

While I’ve never been a fan of reality TV in any form, I recently began watching the National Geographic Channel’s newest program, "Doomsday Preppers." Having known a few fringe folk in my time, I thought it might be interesting, as well as entertaining, to see what people are doing out there. I’ve seen four episodes so far, and I have to say that it’s better than I expected. At the same time, I would never go out and buy it, nor will I probably watch any reruns.

There is much to consider when you ponder all the disaster scenarios paraded past us on a daily basis: collapse of the energy grid, collapse of the economic system, eruption of the Yellowstone super volcano, a polar shift, runaway inflation, world-wide pandemic, electro-magnetic pulse, etc. In addition, there are local disasters, such as earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, chemical spills, or floods that we know will happen sooner or later. Yes, there are people making plans to survive them all. Here are some interesting statistics from the program: 25% of Americans have made no emergency plans whatsoever, yet 20% have some sort of emergency plan. Where am I? Well, I’ve thought about some of these things but not really done anything yet. Sam is more prepared than I am, because I KNOW he has a plan, though we are behind the ball in terms of acting on what we need to do. You may be asking yourself, “Do I really need to do anything?” Consider this: According to the United Nations, this past year was the most expensive in recorded history ($380 billion), thanks to the earthquakes in New Zealand and Japan.http://money.msn.com/business-news/article.aspx?feed=AP&date=20120306&id=14858342

Think about it. DO you have an emergency evacuation plan? How would you survive? You’d better have a good supply of non-perishable food laid by and be able to protect it, yourself, and your family. You’d also best be prepared to live off the land and able to scrounge up whatever you needed when your food runs out. Can you hunt? What would you do for food if everyone else was hunting and/or fishing and the resources were exhausted? Can you forage? Could you eat a rat—or a kitty cat—if you had to? Can you defend yourself beyond shooting a gun? CAN you shoot a gun, use a knife, or other personal self defense method, such as jiu jitsu or karate? Are you physically fit? Will your neighbors be a help, a hindrance, or a threat? Are you building a network with neighbors or church members, for example, so you can help each other survive, or will you be a lone wolf? All of a sudden, there is a great deal to consider, isn’t there?

Some of the folks on TV have come up with interesting solutions, and I admire their dedication and tenacity, though a few seem kind of flaky. At the same time I must say that any TRUE doomsday prepper would never go on TV and give away his plan. NEVER. Secrecy is a big part of success (which was actually mentioned during the fourth episode), and the less people who know about your plans, the better. I would especially not show off my huge stash of guns and ammo or the stockpile of liquor. Tsk, tsk!

Personally, I can’t see myself living on MRE’s for any length of time, if only because I’ve heard they weren’t very good, though it would probably be a good idea to have a few around. I also can’t see myself cooking up fabulous gourmet meals from powdered, dehydrated food while hunkered down in my bunker. Canned and dehydrated food I’ve put up myself would no doubt taste better than MRE’s, plus I know what is in it, but when your main concern is filling your stomach with something in order to stay alive, taste is probably not the highest priority. I certainly plan on continuing to garden and growing and preserving what food I am able, but I have no illusions that my garden would be safe. If ever the “**** hits the fan,” I am sure lots of other people will be crawling over my back fence trying to help themselves to my food!

One thing is certain; disaster preparedness is not something that can be done overnight. It takes a good deal of thought, work, and an investment of time and money to become a reality. And, once you have the three-day supplies in your bug-out bag, you need to consider the best way to proceed once you are in the situation. For example, when Mt. Rainier blows, what are you going to do? Is it really a good idea to jump in your car and head for the freeway and Eastern Washington if the other million people who live here are doing the same thing? Hmm, you might want to consider “bugging in” and waiting for things to settle, rather than sitting in a freeway parking lot with lots of panicked people. And if, for example, you plan to head for Mexico, be sure you have enough gas to get there and a place to stay when you arrive.

For some very useful information, check out www.preparedness.com/, www.ready.gov/, and www.72hours.org/. 

What Can't You Live Without?

A couple of months ago I happened to read an article posted in one of the daily news Emails I receive from Scientific American Magazine. The gist of the article was a listing of replies to the author’s question, what technology is so essential that you cannot live without it? Unfortunately, I long since deleted the above-mentioned Email, so I’m unable to offer it up as a reference, but it stuck with me, and I felt compelled to write about it myself.

To my surprise (as well as the Email’s author), many people replied that they could not live without their iPhones , iPads, or Facebook. At first I didn’t know what to make of that, and then I must admit that I became really furious. My reaction to all this was, “Give me a break—you can’t live without your freaking iPhone?” Now I know that many people are addicted to their smart phones and can’t be parted from them for more than 30 seconds without going into withdrawal; however, smart phones are not essential for existence. Personally, I believe that we’d all be better off if every single one of them was instantly vaporized. And Facebook? Please, NOBODY NEEDS Facebook in order to live.

One thing that brought home the utter ridiculousness of the above was the power outage we suffered during the recent ice storm. Do you want to know what I cannot live without? ELECTRICITY! During the four days Sam and I were without power, it was 40-some degrees inside our house.We had no heat and no hot water—oh, we did light a fire in the fireplace a couple of times, but we did not try roasting any weenies or making S’mores. We also could boil water and cook on the propane burner attached to our gas barbecue outside on the patio, but it was a bit cold to stand outside for extended periods of time. For light we had two kerosene lamps and a couple of high intensity flashlights—woo hoo! I felt like I was living in a nightmare, and thank God we work at a hospital, because we were able to shower and buy hot meals there when we were scheduled to work.

Another thing I cannot live without is PAPER. Imagine what our society would be like if we had none. There would be no books, no letters, no bills, no business cards, no statements, no posters, no paper towels, no toilet paper, no cardboard etc. Life would grind to a screeching halt without paper. We use it in every aspect of our lives and in a million different ways, and we aren’t even aware of most of them. The digital revolution has not reduced the need for paper any more than the computer revolution did. Yes, we can buy books and magazines on DVD or download them to our e-Readers, but the majority of people still want good old paper books, magazines, and newspapers that they can hold in their own two hands—books that actually belong to them, not licenses they cannot pass along or sell to someone else. And have you noticed that many of the digital books and magazines cost just as much as the paper ones? Hmm, somebody’s making a bundle off that.

What about BALLPOINT PENS? Yes, I know I could go more basic here, back to pencils, but I haven’t used a pencil in years—have you? When I write, it’s either with a pen or composing at the computer, and a computer or phone isn’t really useful for writing much of what we use pens for: writing notes to ourselves or others, signing checks or legal documents, writing personal letters or thank you notes (yes a few of us still write them). Many authors categorically state that they cannot enter into the creative process and write, unless they can physically put pen to paper, and many of these same folks completely freeze up if called upon to compose at the computer. Like anything else, it’s a learned skill.

And, global warming aside, who would want to live without the INTERNAL COMBUSTION ENGINE? Can you imagine what it would be like if we all had to walk or ride horses everywhere? Street sanitation would take on an entirely different complexion, considering that there would be literally tons of horse manure that would need to be moved and disposed of every day. I don’t even want to think about it, and I own horses! Instead of the 10 minutes it takes me to get to work now, it would take me an hour to walk the same 3.5 miles. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about parking. Taking the horse would be faster, except I’d have to spend time tacking up to ride or take a buggy, and when I arrived I’d need a stable to care for my horse and/or buggy while I was at work or visiting the doctor’s office. Looking at things that way makes it obvious that we as a society can’t realistically return to the horse and buggy days, though walking more often would be good for most of us.

I’m certain I could think of a few more items indispensable to my existence, if I put my mind to it (my laptop?), but I think I’ve made my point. Yes, I own a smart phone. I have a Facebook account. I do not have an iPad or eReader. Living without these things might prove inconvenient, but I think most people would survive.

On Resolutions

This year, instead of making resolutions, I thought I would try a new tack and call them “goals.” Sounds more positive and affirming, don’t you think? Besides, I’ve never been a big fan of resolutions. You go into them with your jaw set and two strikes against you—sort of a “do it or die” type of approach. Goals already sound more attainable.

I stayed up and watched TV for a while a few nights back, since I wasn’t scheduled to work, and I happened to catch Jimmy Fallon’s Late Night show (the one Conan O’Brian used to host). Jimmy began the hour with a bit about New Year’s Resolutions, specifically regarding weight loss, since so many people resolve to get in shape. The Emcee (sorry, I don’t know his name) said he dressed in baggy clothes so everyone would think he’d lost weight—in fact, he had even bought a really huge pair of pants and hung them up on his living room wall. People who saw them were really impressed and always said, “Great Job!” congratulating him on his weight loss. Jimmy piped up just then saying, “But you’ve never worn those, have you?” Well, he hadn’t, of course!

Jimmy then did a “Pro and Con” segment where one of the suggestions was instead of resolving to lose 100 lb., you should have an attainable goal, such as gaining 100 lb. I don’t know about you, but I could probably do that if I put my mind to it.

Like many people, I could stand to be in better shape, but I’m not trying the baggy clothes trick! I aim to begin with a goal of walking on the trail in the morning after work three times a week. Once I can do that, I can increase it to every day. The weather ought to be nicer by then, and I could add in working with my horses afterward. I have to work up to riding them gradually anyway, since I was off with my shoulder injury last year and haven’t been riding this winter. First I will work one of them on the lunge line every day (I have two horses, so I won’t start out doing BOTH of them every day). Then, after a couple of weeks, we can go for short rides in the arena and work up to rides on the trail. That will do nicely to get me back in shape, and I will have fun doing it. When it comes to exercise, you stand a much better chance of being successful if you do something you enjoy. While pumping iron can be fun, I hate aerobics, therefore the walking and riding horses or bikes—those things I DO like.

Another goal is to take treats to work more often, for instance tonight I brought a bag of homemade snicker doodle cookies for my co-workers to snack on. I enjoy baking, so I felt I could do my part on that. I could bring in something at least once every week or so. That is do-able, and if I take them all to work I won’t end up eating them myself.

On the home front, my biggest goal is to keep up with the dog hair my German Shepherd dog Roxi seems to lose by the hatful every day. I swear that dog should be bald, but she manages to stay a fur ball and still shed like there is no tomorrow. I found her comb when cleaning for Christmas and will begin by using it on her in the mornings. Hopefully she will learn to stand still one of these days. Combing out her fur will go a long way, because one day just last week I combed off enough hair to make a whole new dog the size of a Shih Tzu, and I tire of seeing big clouds of fur rolling aimlessly across the floor. The Evening Magazine show on KING 5 recently ran a segment (originally filmed in 1996) about people who save pet hair and then have it made into yarn and usable items. I loved what one gentleman said: “It seems only fair that after a lifetime of paying their bills and cleaning up after them that they should contribute a useful item for your home. It beats stuffing them and putting them on the mantle.” Oh, I have to agree, and besides, I would cry every time I looked at my stuffed cat or dog! One woman had an afghan made from her golden retriever’s hair and the gentleman I quoted above had a sweater made from his cat’s fur. You CAN remove the dog smell, they tell me, so perhaps one day I will have a Roxi lap robe.

I will be planting my new garden soon too. One goal is to only grow things we will actually eat. I don’t think I will grow zucchini anymore, because most of them went to the chickens or the compost heap the past two years. I also want to buy seeds from Seed Savers, instead of the local hardware store, and try to set aside some of my own to use next year. That sounds like a fun project.

I can’t end, of course, without having some craft-type goals. Anyone who does hand work knows how easy it is to stockpile many more projects than you can realistically make, so one goal is to make some of them this year. I have already started knitting a sweater I can wear to work when it’s finished. Also, I doubt my yarn stash is larger than the average hand knitter’s, but I do hope to use up some of it. I subscribe to a number of magazines and daily Emails, and one suggestion they made is to try a new craft this coming year. That might be difficult, since I already know how to do most things, plus I’m generally strapped for time to do everything I want to do. I’ve always wanted to learn to weave, so maybe I’ll try my hand at that. I’ve even subscribed to Handwoven magazine for the past two years, despite the fact that I can’t read the patterns yet. I could use up some of my stash that way, too.

Perhaps my final goal should be getting organized so I can find the time to do everything? I seem to waste a certain amount of time every day, so if I were more organized, I could be more productive. Maybe I could finish one or two of the novels I’ve been working on and get them published? It took some time to organize and format the book of poetry I published last year, even though most of the poems had been done for some time, so that seems a worthy goal too. One thing is certain: I only have 24 hours a day, just like everyone else, and there are fewer of them as each day goes by.

Un-Stuffing Stuff

I had to laugh when I read “The Last page” editorial in the new Smithsonian magazine that arrived yesterday. Normally I don’t venture to pick it up and read it, but for some reason today I did. Its timing could not have been better. You see, Sam and I are engaged in un-stuffing our house right now, so the article was quite apropos:

 “We are all foot soldiers in this war, though mostly AWOL. Surveys say that 73 percent of all Americans enter their houses via the garage—each of them staring straight ahead to avoid seeing the stuff piled up where the cars are supposed to go. The other 27 percent never open the garage door, for fear of being crushed beneath what might come tumbling out.” (Conniff, Richard, “The Hoarding Instinct,” Smithsonian Magazine, January 2012, p. 92.).

I wouldn’t say Sam and I are hoarders exactly. I mean we don’t have a house such as you might find featured on the TV show The Hoarders. What we DO have is loads of stuff that we’ve bought or dragged home through the years that really is useful. It’s just ended up stored in boxes or piled up and dragged along with us as we’ve moved. We don’t have a house with little trails winding through mountains of stuff—and we know what that’s like, because we do have a friend who does. Our excess baggage is mostly relegated to a back room (not the garage) and is primarily the result of our last move where we packed it all up and then somehow never un-packed it. The pile isn’t very tidy anymore either, because I’ve had to paw through it from time to time through the years to find various items. I’ve even gone and bought new things I already had that were lost somewhere in the heap, because it was too much trouble to try and locate them.

We were always good scroungers too. It never escaped either of us when we could put somebody’s cast-offs to good use. That behavior stood us in good stead all those years when we were living from hand to mouth, and it was a survival skill, because we couldn’t afford to buy new stuff! We had Good Will and Salvation Army sofas and chairs, not to mention parental cast-offs, as our furniture right up until we bought the house we currently live in. In fact, we still have my Grandma Rose’s bedroom set, because we never got around to replacing it during the furniture buying frenzy. We decided not to spend any more money.

The Christmas holidays this year were the turning point, because we were so tired of all our junk that we resolved to finally sort it out and get it out of here. It seemed pointless to decorate, when we first needed to just get rid of stuff. We’ve made great strides, too, though Sam still has not physically hauled anything away yet. There are clothes for the blind or homeless, and dishes, knick knacks, and other small items for the Thrift Store. Some stuff did get put in the trash or the recycle bin, though there are loads of things still left to sort. We talked about how we want to redecorate too, so the house will not only have more room, but it will also be more livable.

Better than any of that, however will be the relief I feel when the burden of all that stuff is gone. No I don’t want to go back to it, either. I would far rather live a more Spartan existence than to ever have to look at a pile of boxes ever again, knowing that I or someone else will have to someday go through them.

I well remember the two days I spent sorting through all the stuff in my dear Grandmother Rose’s house after she passed away. The job fell to me and me alone, because my sister and her family members could not get off work to help, though they did haul away and sell or find homes for everything after I went through it all. I particularly remember going through the boxes of old mail in her basement, and I swear she had saved EVERY bill, birthday, and Christmas card she ever received.  On the one hand, it was kind of nice that so many people had sent her remembrances through the years, and reading a few of the notes brought tears to my eyes. It got to be a bit overwhelming, though, so believe me, nobody will have to sort through that kind of stuff when I am gone!

The Good Old Days

A friend recently wrote to tell me that his life, since he retired, was now pretty peaceful down on the farm, far from turmoil. It reminded me of when Sam and I had our own little place (I mentioned in my last blog post that I had goats once, so here you go.) many years ago before moving to the Seattle area. We owned a little 10-acre farm in Northeastern Oregon, not far from La Grande on the outskirts of a settlement called Summerville. We hope to move back to La Grande (once we retire) and settle down with our horses, but at that time we lived about five miles out of Summerville in our little 10 x 40 ft. mobile home.

Back then I had long hair down to the middle of my back, which I usually wore in braids, and we had no horses at all. No, we had chickens (Barred Plymouth Rocks and Rhode Island Reds), ducks (Rouens, which look like very fat Mallards, only with black instead of orange feet), Muscovies (a “duck-like South American waterfowl”—I looked it up), Pilgrim geese, and dairy goats. Sam and I were in our post-college phase and had “gone back to the land,” which was very fashionable with all our peers. Some of them even had their own sheep and wove fabric by hand from their fleeces on their own looms. We were founding members of the Mt. Emily Co-op (the local bulk organic food store), too. That should tell you where we were at in those days!

One half of our place was in timber and the other half was a large cleared field that the previous owner had once planted in grain, probably oats or wheat, and there was a gravel driveway that wound from the county road up to where our mobile home stood. We had our own well for water and a little barn of sorts that Sam had cobbled together, but the animals pretty much roamed wherever they wanted. This was not a problem, because we didn’t have a garden to worry about, nor were we afraid the birds would get away. All our neighbors lived a fair distance from us, so we didn’t have to worry about the goats, either, and if you know anything about goats, you know they are not easily confined. I am not kidding (excuse the pun) when I say it is not unusual for one to jump a six foot fence flat-footed. The big heavy-bodied milkers can’t quite make it that far, but all the rest of them can, no sweat! No, our only worries were that coyotes or the neighbors’ dogs would bother our stock, and there wasn’t much we could do about that, short of using the .22 rifle on them.

Why, you may ask, did we have goats? Because we had a farm, we wanted our own milk, and because there are goat people and there are cow people. Having grown up with cows, and not being overly fond of them, I wasn’t at all excited about having any myself. Also, have you ever tried to manhandle a cow? They are kind of large for that. No, when Sam and I decided we wanted to be able to produce our own milk, goats won the day hands down.

By the time we moved to our farm in Summerville, we had owned dairy goats for a couple of years and already owned several individuals from two different breeds. We started out with the only goat we could find locally: a cute little white Saanen-type doe named Sally, but before long we discovered that there was a great deal of variety in goats (by the way, goats are not properly referred to as nannies and billies—they are does and bucks, like deer, to which they are distantly related). By the time we moved to Summerville, we had branched out to Nubians, a breed noted for its distinctively long, bell-shaped ears, roman noses, and rich milk high in butterfat. They also have distinct personalities and a great deal of color variation. Where Saanens are known for being quiet and laid-back, Nubians are the clowns and extroverts of the caprine world. And yes, I milked goats—about 10-15 does twice a day, every day, come rain, sleet, snow, or shine, and I have the grip to prove it.

Having the goats was quite an experience, and I definitely learned what hard work was all about. You do not own goats; they own you. Whereas with cows or other kinds of livestock, you can probably get a friend or someone you know to cover chores for you if you ever want a vacation, it is impossible to find anybody to come and milk goats for you. Some people use machines to milk them too, but I milked them all by hand, kept what we used for ourselves or sold as “pet food,” and bottle-fed the babies (that’s the only way YOU get any milk). On a farm you do not get sick days, because chores need to be done morning and evening every day whether you feel like it or not. You also make very little money, because you sell wholesale and buy everything you need at retail prices. Of course, it wasn’t an entirely bad experience. I loved living in the country, and I loved my goats—but I would think more than twice should I ever consider having them again.

I once saw a cartoon in one of the local papers which made me laugh very long and sardonically: An old farmer has just won a million dollars in the lottery, and a reporter is interviewing him wanting to know what he plans to do with all his money. The old farmer just looks at the reporter and replies, “Oh, I guess I’ll just keep on farming until it’s all gone!” Unfortunately, there is more truth in that statement than you might like to think. In fact, that’s why we got out of the goat business and moved to Seattle: We were working our butts off and going broke. Both Sam and I worked full-time at the hospital in La Grande, then we turned around and spent what we had earned working full-time on the farm, getting deeper and deeper in debt. I must say that one of the smartest things we ever did was to bail on the farm. I have tremendous respect for anyone who tries to make a living farming or ranching, because it is extremely hard work, all hours of the day and night, for very little income. That is why agri-business is taking over production of our food today.

Do I miss “the good old days?” Yes and no. I love country living and producing my own food; I thoroughly enjoy working with animals and hand-crafting things for myself. Nothing can take its place. And believe me, I would not miss TV at all, though giving up the Internet would be hard. Thankfully I won’t need to do that. At the same time I do NOT miss working so hard in uncomfortable conditions. I well remember one wintry morning sitting on my milking stool, milking one of my favorite does, who was busily chowing down her Purina Dairy Goat Feed, and reflecting on why I was there. It was so cold that the water buckets were all frozen, the milking parlor was not heated, and it was snowing outside. There was a little mouse in the corner watching me the entire time too. I never had the heart to kill them myself, though I didn’t care if the cats did. Where were those cats when you needed them? Well, I knew I had no one to blame for my predicament but myself. No, I did not hate it; I DID enjoy my life mostly, but if I were ever to have goats again, I would only have a couple, and they might well be Angoras next time!

It's Time for Holiday Baking!

Every year about this time, an amazing thing happens across the country and around the world: Cooks everywhere dust off their holiday recipes and get to work baking oodles of wonderful things to eat.

The variety of traditions and recipes available to the holiday baker is absolutely incredible. Witness all the holiday magazines that come out right after Halloween with their pages packed with all sorts of decorating and cooking advice. When I was younger (and thinner) I used to buy several magazines every year to pore over, wondering what new delights I might find to bake for my family and to give away as gifts to co-workers and friends. In the process, I garnered a collection of my own favorites through the years. Back when we had the dairy goats (yes, I had them—about 40 of them in fact, but more on that another time), I even made Goat Milk fudge one year. My husband Sam pokes fun at me, but I have a huge cardboard box of recipes I’ve torn out of magazines or saved from labels or boxes, and that’s where my treasure trove resides. There are a few holiday magazines I’ve saved too. After we moved into our house five years ago, I couldn’t find said box or magazines for a couple of years, so I had to improvise and come up with some new holiday favorites, but the good news is that when I found the old recipes, I had loads of new ones to add.

In the meantime, I really have been trying to get my recipes sorted through, written up, and saved onto my computer. That way I can someday be rid of The Recipe Box forever, and I’m sure Sam will be glad. He is a very organized person. I have a refrigerator magnet that reads, “I am not disorganized. I have anti-systematic methodology disorder.” Describes me to a T—at least with some things.

One thing always happens to me whenever this season rolls around, however. I get anxious, because I like food (like most people), and I know I will not be able to resist the yummy creations I encounter at work or make at home myself. In fact, whenever I do bake something at home, it normally goes right to work. My co-workers can tell you I don’t bring goodies to work very often, because out of the instinct for self-preservation, I don’t bake much anymore. Why? Because I know I’m going to gain a few pounds if my creations hang around at home very long. One thing I’ve found you can do though is to be very picky about the goodies you eat. Let’s face it. You’d better really enjoy that Christmas cookie, piece of fudge, or slice of fruitcake, not to mention the glass of holiday punch or Irish Cream, because it will be with you for a while. With that said, I must say that I DO enjoy holiday baking, and I DO enjoy sampling everything! No bah, humbug Christmases or New Years for me!

Of course, Sam and I have formed certain personal traditions by now. One of them is to enjoy homemade Irish Cream and shortbread cookies, while listening to holiday music, as we put up and trim our tree. Needless to say, we always have a really good time doing it, too. A few years back I also learned how to make gingerbread houses, which are great fun—and people absolutely LOVE destroying and eating them. I like to make a couple recipes of fudge and divinity every year and of course there are the inevitable sugar and candy cane cookies, and hors d’oeuvre plates of Swedish meatballs or Viennese wieners. You get the picture. By the way, do you know that if you misspell hors d’oeuvre, that Spell-check has no competent suggestions for you (drovers? dourest?)? It figures! Thank God for my three volume set of Webster’s Third Unabridged!

Now in parting, since I tantalized you with my tale of homemade Irish Cream and shortbread cookies, here are my recipes so you can enjoy them too!

Homemade Irish Cream Liqueur*

1 ¼ cups Irish whisky
1 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk (NOT evaporated milk!)
2 cups whipping cream
3 eggs or equivalent in egg substitute
2 tbsp. chocolate syrup
2 tbsp. instant coffee
1 tsp. vanilla extract
½ tsp. almond extract

Mix all ingredients together in a large bowl with a whisk or in a blender. Will keep for at least two weeks in the refrigerator.

*Adapted from a recipe found on Eaglebrand sweetened condensed milk.

Homemade Shortbread Cookies* (This is one of the easiest recipes I have found!)

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup (two sticks softened butter—and please, it absolutely MUST be butter!)
½ cup confectioners’ sugar
¼ tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 tbsp. granulated sugar (regular white sugar)
Confectioners’ sugar

Preheat oven to 350⁰. Beat together the flour, butter, ½ cup confectioners’ sugar, baking powder, and vanilla until well mixed. Scoop dough into a 9-inch cake pan and pat it down, then prick it all over with a fork (to allow steam to escape). Bake until the top is slightly golden, about 30-35 minutes. Immediately cut cookie dough into eight wedges and invert pan on a wire rack to remove cookies. To serve, sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar as desired. One variation is to substitute lemon flavoring for the vanilla.

*Adapted from a recipe found in the 1989 Women’s Day Super Special Great Holiday Baking issue, p. 79.

Happy Holidays to all!