Author: Rene

Look who wandered through the backyard looking for deals yesterday! A herd romped through our property to the neighbor’s house – well, two bucks and five does. How many are in a herd?

We knew someone was traipsing through the backyard as one of our saplings has been mowed over. It was what I call a “coyote day.” That’s my term for the grey, dreary days when a coyote could sneak around undisturbed, and often did when they were more prevalent. I even opened the draperies in the kitchen early morning because I anticipated a possible wildlife sighting, not to get any warmth from the sun which was hiding all day.

It was a perfect “Black Friday” shopping day.

The pie crust probably only took five minutes – I forgot to time it. I did manage to splatter the pumpkin filling all over the countertop, coffee maker, blinds and backsplash. Also, the traditional “Five Minute Fudge” I have made successfully hundreds of times did not set properly, although it was quite tasty.

There is a five-minute rule floating around here somewhere? Oh, I see more pumpkin splatter now that the early morning light is directed towards the sink. Great! I was wondering what I would do with my free time today? One thing is certain and that is the breakfast fare. Pumpkin pie!

Thanks for the thanks, faithful readers. “Onward ever, ceasing never.”

The pumpkin pie is ready, the turkey rests in wait,
Piling up our blessings on this very special date.

Remembering our loved ones, those gone, those far and near,
Toasting to the memories with family so dear.

Wishing strength and joy to soothe the weary souls,
Prayers for peace to fill the hearts with empty holes.

We find that even in this world, torn with war and strife,
Goodness can be found in every corner of our life.

While we dine and feast on food prepared with care and love,
Take a moment, raise your eyes, and thank the Lord above.

Pumpkin pie, I love mine. Specifically, I love my pie crust. It’s the 8th grade Home Ec recipe copied and saved for eternity in my little index box. Flour, water, shortening and salt. No sugar. No milk. Nothing too grand, but homemade and perfectly suited to my liking of “crust pliability.”

Now, I could never do a cooking or baking show – well, I could, and it would be rather humorous for viewers looking for actual tips and hints and recipes – but I think I could throw together a good 15-minute pie crust demo. Maybe become a TikTok sensation for the holidays?

Now that I think about it, I’m going to do a “Name that Tune” challenge today. “Make that pie crust” in five minutes or less. I’ll report on Friday, but I’ll start the challenge with ingredients secured in the cupboard, just for that highly anticipated outcome.

Happy prepping, turkey traditionalists and steak-break-the mold peeps.

Today’s post. It’s Thanksgiving week. Thaw the turkey, bake the pies, clean the kitchen, make your “gratefulness” list. TTFN.

Perhaps you, too, were a lucky recipient of damp sheets when you were a youngster? You were allowed to iron those same sheets that were going to be slept on and wrinkled that very night! Even as a kid I did not understand the purpose of that task. However, I did love smelling those line-dried linens and the fresh start of crisply-ironed sheets.

Looking forward to doing laundry today and considering placing a clothesline in the backyard. With this temperate weather I could enjoy the solar and wind benefits! Perhaps the installation could be considered a tax deduction?

I have my baby book, complete with my date of birth, height and weight, and first word. That’s it. The baby books for the siblings who followed were blank. One could say it gave them an air of mystique, not knowing any of those vital facts.

Of course, being the eldest, there are mostly only photos of me in infancy and early childhood, a rare photo here and there of my brother, a few with my sister. When my youngest sister arrived on the scene, I was of the age to use a camera fairly successfully. Thus, some of her childhood is documented in color.

My children’s baby books are detailed and completed filled. They have scrapbooks loaded with precious memories. I don’t think they’ve ever looked at them.

Truly, my mother was accurate in her assessment of the value of a baby book.

Waking from a fabulous dream, albeit one where my wallet was stolen – an occurrence which has happened to me at least three times and is fodder for another day – I took my morning stroll to retrieve the outdated mode of communication from the bottom of the driveway.

There, staring at me from the yard, in the gently breaking dawn, was a beautiful doe. We just watched each other, with me hoping there was enough green grass for her to munch on so she would leave the trees alone. (So far the septic field has provided the feast in good supply.) It made me wonder who else has been watching when I head down the pavement in the total darkness with my phone flashlight?

I used to be more of a night owl than morning person, and I still prefer that feeling of being the only one awake while everyone else slept. It felt like I was “on watch” and could relax once the morning came. (That’s got to be fodder for a therapist?) However, changing tides of grandparenthood have me rising early and getting my fanny in bed at a decent hour.

The darkness is now my early morning friend and we enjoy each other’s company, cup of coffee in hand.

My daughter and I are celebrating the end of the Hollywood actor’s strike. We’ve been holding out for over thirty years now, hoping the union could come to an agreement.

We anticipated all of this A.I. concern when she was a mere infant and I much younger. Of course, A.I. wasn’t a term, but we could foresee it. (That’s why we both have Taft-Hartley status and have never officially joined the Screen Actor’s Guild.)

Obviously, with the recent announcement, we shall both be renewing our careers. Look for us on ads for baby strollers or any geriatric support products.

Never seen it – old or new. So watching bits of it tonight (looks hokey) as I do tasks reminds me of a movie I saw in the condemned theatre of my hometown, the theatre which only opened for a children’s Christmas show and drawing for a new bicycle one Saturday in December.

I think for a few years my sister, brother and I were allowed to enter the hallowed halls of the defunct movie theatre – did I mention it was “condemned?” Some philanthropic organization in town hosted the movie and bicycle drawing and we got to go, most presumably to get us out of our mother’s hair. The movie? It was some scary thing about a ghost ship which had absolutely nothing to do with the holidays, let alone Christmas! It was the same movie each year. No creativity whatsoever in the management of this activity. That reminds me of another show, “Jason and the Argonauts.” It always aired around Easter! The dead skeletons rising up were enough to inspire resurrection stories, I guess? It, too, was a scary movie for a young overactive imagination.

Well, times were tough in childhood. We took what we could get!