What I love about September by T

S had a good idea and we're all going to work harder to blog regularly:    Topic of the Day:

What I Love About September, bullet-style:

• The crispness that starts to creep in the air
• Apple Cider and Apple Cider Donuts at the Vermont orchards
• Getting to wear sweaters
• Zeptember on the radio stations across the country!  (Extra Zep is always a good thing)
• it's again time to wear BOOTS!
• Seeing kids climb on the bus each morning, waving goodbye to their parents
• No heat needed, but no need to cool off
• Going for walks with my husband in the cool morning, or in the cool evening.
• that the leaves will soon change (happens later in VT than WI, I've found - usually October)
• Thinking about preparing for Halloween
• Pumpkin-flavored everything reappears (mmmm!)
• that it doesn't stay light out so late - easier to get cozy at home after work
• That October is next--my favorite month!

And What do YOU like about September, friends?

~t

That Ba**ard Skunk

Greetings from NYC - La Guardia Airport to be specific.  Today I'm (Ter) off to Ohio for a long work weekend and have found my first down time in months thanks to a 4 hour delay.  It's been a long while since I last wrote and a lot has happened.  Doctor visits, travel for work, working on buying a new car, laundry, laundry and more laundry.  Then there's the story I'm about to share with you-- the story of That Bastard Skunk.  (Pardon the language, but it is definitely appropriate in defining this situation.)  Also, I'm not sure this is a story, or more of a venting place for me.  After reading it, you'll understand why I need to VENT, literally.

Disclaimer, if this story makes you want to contact PETA, you've obviously never dealt with this personally.  I don't care who you are -- there is no living above a skunk. 

About ten days ago, husband and I woke to a putrid, unfortunately familiar, smell.  We looked at each other and he simply exclaimed "NOOOOOOO!!!".  We'd been skunked.   And we weren't even playing cribbage.  We knew the smell because it'd happened to us before.  In WI, one of these little striped beasts chewed his way beneath our house and "let 'er rip".  If you've never experienced this up close and personal, it smells like burnt plastic and rubber at the same time.  It assaults your nose, makes your eyes tear up, and gives you a sore throat and cough almost immediately.  It took us 6 months *LITERALLY* to get the funk out of our clothes, mattresses, towels, hair, pets, pillows.. You name it.  He said that he first time he smoked his pipe after the skunkage, he about lost his lunch.  It permiates e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. and I do not wish this experience upon anyone.   We must owe karma something becuase it's happened again, folks.

We owned our home in WI and could take care of this how we wished - so the little buddy met a trap.  Case closed.  But now we rent, and the landlord isn't interested in trapping (and also apparently not interested in closing off the porch which is fully attached to the house -- giving any and all creatures an invitation to nest)...so this has required us to get a little creative. 

Here's a play-by-play of our stink-venture thus far:

• We're awoken to the undeniable presence of Pepe Le Pew and immediately open all windows in the house for the night.  Brrr.....
• Spray a mixture of apple cider vinegar and bleach under the house in all of the openings. 
• mop the floors with vinegar (believe it or not, it helps neutralize the smell-- or so your barely-working smell buds think at that juncture)
• Pepe fights back by lifting tail
• I went to work, stinking.  Rubbed a box of dryer sheets all over myself.  Hardly helped. Created "Sorry I stink" post-its with a skunk cartoon on them. Distribute to co-workers while frowning.
• Began leaving porch light on at night, hoping that will aid in stinky's exodus
• launched moth balls in every opening under house.  Drown them with bleach to get fumes going.
• Note: house now smells like skunk, bleach, and moth balls. Yet again, woken at night to sniffs of him "returning fire".  Officially ready to put up our colonial wall tent and live in the yard.  He can have the house.
• Spray under house with barrage of peppermint oil (from my soap-making supply--frown), dish soap, Vicks Vapor-rub, bleach, vinegar.  Husband says "Ha! That'll teach him!"
• DO we have success?!?  Nothing happened this night!!
• Just to keep scent there, we spray that mixture again.  I also sprinkle cayenne pepper around the house, like I'm seasoning a spicy soup.
• Wake up: **sniff sniff** Eau de Pepe. Frown like Grumpy Cat. He's not getting the message.
• Husband says "Get ammonia".  I bring home.  Fill sprayer.  We lay on the wet, snowy ground at his level, heads almost under the house (dangerous as it's after dark), flashlight illuminating our view.  Husband says "I SEE THE BASTARD'S EYES".  We launch ammonia bombs (full strength ammonia on rags) toward his hole. 
• He scurries out.  We claim victory, yet keep spraying ammonia 2x daily.
• This morning: I wake at 3 a.m. to catch my flight.  Smell hasn't degraded.  I leave the house happy until I land in NYC to a text:  "skunk is back with a vengeance"

The saga continues....

Food Memories

Greetings and Happy New Year from Ter.  I was thinking this morning, while preparing a big Sunday brunch, about how food has shaped my life and created many memories.  Like most families, ours has been shaped by food and drink.  Just like G blogged about Grandma Kate teaching her to bake bread, my G has done the same for me.  I remember being a little girl, Grandma's "Petite Little Flower" as she so affectionaltely called my sister and myself, and experiencing so many cool food-related things with her.

I remember the picnics on Grandma's living room floor and that drool-worthy homemade cheese sauce she made to top our pasta (that I have NEVER been able to accurately duplicate.).  I remember the Christmas Crepes that were tradition for so many years.  I recall the Cinnamon toast, the monkey bread, the snow ice cream.  I remember getting into her magical car (named Bermelda Lou) once a week and trekking around Northern Wisconsin in search of the best pie.  I remember traveling to Minnesota with Grandma and Grandpa and ordering a hamburger at the Vietnamese restaurant we stopped at.  Yes, you read that correctly.   Although I was too little to remember it, story goes that Grandma and Aunt Shell took me to a Chinese restaurant when I was tiny.  Something about me spitting an almond across the room, or squeezing coffee creamers until they exploded.  They would need to clarify that one...:)  Either way, my point is = family + food = stories. 

The power of food tradition is so strong.  I am enjoying forming new food traditions with my husband.  We go for our clam chowder every other week, which I have already written about... but one of my favorite new things is the mystery of my Friday night drives home from work --wondering what toppings Andy has developed for the pizza this week.  Sometimes it's cilantro, tomato and onion pizza fries -- another time kalamata olives, grape leaves and crispy ham, or crab and spices.  I love Friday mystery pizza night. It's always so good.



Golden funnel cake goodness

As I write this, I am preparing our latest once-in-a-while indulgence- funnel cakes.  This time around the funnel cakes have a bit of cinnamon and rum in them (We tend to rumify everything we can).  I just snuck a piece and it's quite good.   -->

husband's cup and thick "grogg"

<-- Coupled with our spiced Vermont Country Blend Coffee, this is shaping up to be a tasty day.  Another one of husband's newest concoctions is a grogg for his coffee.  It's a thick mixture of raw honey, molasses, cinnamon, fresh ground nutmeg, maple syrup, vanilla and ginger.  We didn't use a recipe - we just hit the pantry and started throwing things into the jug.  It's pretty sweet, but a little goes a long way, making for an earthy, spicy cup that you could never buy in a coffee shop.


Last week we experienced our first Nor'easter (which was easy-peasy compared to the blinstering WI winters we are accustomed to) and were blanket with beautiful, fluffy -glittery snow, perfect for making some of that snow ice cream that G taught me as a kiddo.  A huge, mounded bowl of fresh *WHITE* snow, when mixed with some simple staples, becomes an incredible delicacy.  We took some culinary liberties this time around and added maple syrup - and yes, spiced rum.  Very good!  Below you will find the recipe from the cookbook G wrote... another wonderful memory is trying out all of the foods as she wrote the book...and what a super special thing for a little girl to have a recipe named after her and published?    G's the coolest.

The recipe from G's cookbook...

       

Our 2013 Maple and Spiced Rum Snow Ice Cream

I will leave you with one more memory - that I am reminded of often.  Below is a photo of my cubicle at work... the framed item was given to me by G in a card for my birthday a few years ago.  I believe it sums this post up better than I could ever hope to.  

"The most important things to do are to get something to eat, something to drink, and somebody to love you." - Brenda Ueland.

Happy feasting -- with family.  A lesson I have learned - family is what [and who] you make it.

What are your favorite food memories? Please comment below and share!

-Kate's Granddaughter

What Would Kate Do?

Hi.  Ter here.  I heard something interesting earlier this month that got my wheels a-spinnin'...which made me yearn for a time before my own.   I heard that a financial institution came to a screeching hault and was turning people away because their computers were down.  People couldn't get their money!  This made me wonder: when did we become less capable than a robot or a machine?  Why, when machines spring a sprocket, do we panic and spring a sprocket of our own?   Where is our backup plan and why can't we seem to find it?   I found myself asking:  What would Grandma Kate do? 

I never met Grandma Kate, but from hearing stories of her and the glorious generation she comes from, I bet she would have been able to overcome a sprung sprocket and find Plan B lickity-split.  If the problem happened at a bank, I bet Kate would have counted the money by hand and noted down who took what and when - to adjust the account later.  If it was at a grocery store, I bet they would have started a tab and the patron wouldn't be asked to just "put everything down and come back later for it" - because what if, for instance, they needed to feed their children now?   Why, in this day in age, are we so quick to say "No", and not help our fellow man? (Sure, there are plenty of logical and rational reasons, but it's still so sad!)

Grandma Kate was in my mind for the rest of the day as I performed my tasks. How would she have made a phone call? Certainly not while driving, as I did.  She would have maybe sat at her kitchen table with the *corded* phone. Certainly she would be able to be more attentive to the person she called, than I was.  Of course I couldn't write down the information I was given--my hands were at ten and two (or rather just one at twelve :( ). 

How would Grandma Kate buy that tool her husband needed?  She wouldn't have looked it up on her phone, found, purchased, and confirmed it was shipped within minutes.  She would have dressed, gone to town, talked with folks at the store, and purchased the item.  It would have taken her much longer, but she would have been able to communicate with another soul while I was just glued to a screen.

Grandma Kate, and all those in generations before my own, would have found Plan B simply and quickly because they knew how to communicate with one another.   We may lack trust in our fellow man these days, but maybe it's partially because we don't communicate with them.  Just a thought rattling around in my head...what do you think?  Does our technology"unite us or divide us?  Are we better for having it, or worse because of it?  Feel free to comment below.

ter