The Great Zucchini

The Great Zucchini was about 2 square feet all by itself.**

It was roughly the same size as the SLD.  Who was not cooperative when it came to having her picture taken with the Great Zucchini.

So I happily posed with the Great Zucchini myself.  Because Super Aunt Brenda recognizes greatness when she sees it.

And then I introduced the Great Zucchini to the Amazing Food Processor.



And then I measured, mixed, preheated and baked.





And then I pondered the open kitchen trend.  Because whenever I make anything in the kitchen, my kitchen looks like this.

And like this.

And I would like my kitchen to be totally closed off from the rest of my house.  Not open to my living space.  No matter how much entertaining I plan to do.

(Maybe I would feel differently if I had granite countertops.)

In the end the mess was cleaned up, and the Great Zucchini was transformed in to (Gluten-free) Chaisin Nut Zucchini Bread.  And (Gluten free) Chocolate Cherry Chip Zucchini Bread.  And (Don't even think about it STP) Almost Pina Colada Zucchini Bread.

Shazamm!!
This blog entry is dedicated to my super hero--the STP--who restored my ability to post pictures in a single keystroke.  I love that man.  Even if my mom didn't name me Lois.

**Also of note (and in the spirit of full disclosure) I did not grow the Great Zucchini in my square Foot Garden.  I was just trying it on. 

Blogs in my Head

Blogger will not let me upload photos.  So all the wonderful blog posts that have been rolling around in my head for the last week are getting jumbled waiting for an outlet.  Occasionally blogger loads one picture.  This is one that is part of three posts.  One post on my progress with growing an eggplant this summer.  One post on a bugs eye view of my SFG.  And one post on things blooming in the side yard.  It is not part of the Great Zucchini post.  Or the Glory Rays post.  Or the Sunday Sunrise post.  Or the Does anyone know a Contractor, a Plumber, and a Marriage Counselor post.  If you want to know what has been happening you will have call me.  Do it today.  Otherwise I am going to have to do laundry and clean.

Too Much Adventure

Deluded Buoyed by my recent hike in the WYoming wilderness, and jealous of challenged by Uncle Michael's book of Pennsylvania's wonders of wonders, I ordered a book of my own from Amazon.  Titled "Hiking Wyoming--110 of the State's Best Hiking Adventures."  And clearly it is beyond me.  Written by an EMT trained wilderness ranger, it appears at least 109 of the hikes would require serious backpacking skills, bear spray, and spending at least one adventurous night in the Wyoming wilds.
I was just flipping through when I came upon this sentence on page 111:

Most folks from the West know the havoc cheat grass plays with socks when it is dry.

Not being originally from the West I was forced to google cheatgrass. It is obviously an invasive noxious weed.  Which I assume is one step up from a simple noxious weed.   I am including a picture.  It is not as exciting as a rattlesnake picture, but evidently cheatgrass can wreak economic havoc as well as play havoc with your socks.  Serious havoc stuff.

Additionally, it is extremely flammable when dry. 



So now we know that we do not want to hike the Paint Rock Creek this time of year. 
Or do we just want to hike sockless? (I'm finding this book to be slightly less helpful than I expected.) 
As a side note, this trail is not recommended for horse travel.

My 25th First

The Goob's first day of his Junior year was this past Tuesday. 
It was my 25th first day of school.  Twenty five years of notebook and pencil buying.  Twenty five years of trying to decided what everyone else will be wearing so we can be wearing similar things.  Twenty five years of schedule checking.  Twenty five years of lunch packing.  Twenty five years of filling out forms for the school nurse.  Twenty five years of prayers that we will have a good day, understanding teachers, a good year.  Twenty five years of an odd empty feeling.
The Goob makes it easy.  Uneventful.

Do you have everything you need?
Yes.
Do you want a ride?
No, I'll walk.   (We'll count that as a sentence.)
How was your day?
Fine.
How are your classes?
Fine.
Was there a boat?
No.

And after 25 years that's enough information for this mom.  Love you Goob.

Touring the Grounds with the Flamingos

Been thinking a lot about Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden.  And how God walked with Adam in the garden each evening.  And wondering what it is like touring the grounds with God Himself.  Tonight we would start in the flamingo garden out front.  You usually see it like this. But it is finally  looking a little like the cottage garden I picture in my mind.  

This bed has hollyhocks, coneflowers, crysanthemums, violas, apple blossom yarrow, petunias, portulaca, stella d'oro daylilies, a clematis and a few morning glories.  I think God Himself might linger here and bask in the joy in this little plot of land with me.

Also in the front of the house, it is of note that the plants in the little blue pots are still alive in the middle of August. 

Ok, its not the Garden of Eden, but really pretty close to a Dodge City miracle.

Ms. Brenda's Great Adventure...Continues

When Ms. Brenda wears a hat on an adventure, you know it is going to be extraordinary.

Like 'Thicket and bramble' extraordinary.

Like 'More bear scat than you care to think about' extraordinary.

Like 'Good traveling buddy' extraordinary.

Like 'Eat your heart out Uncle Michael' extraordinary.

Like 'the Biggest natural secret in the state of WYoming' extraordinary. (Go ahead...google 'Largest Natural Bridge in the state of Wyoming' and see what you get. And Ayers is not it.)

Like 'Getting back after dark and meeting the park ranger who was contemplating sending out search and rescue' extraordinary.

Just another ordinary Wyoming Monday.

Monday Morning Mango

1 fresh mango
1 heaping tablespoon of homemade apricot jam
1 serving light vanilla yogurt
6 ice cubes
1 food processor
1 porch swing
1 silly little dog
1 good book

All the ingredients for the perfect start to a Monday morning.  
A walk and a smoothie.  Been living this healthy lifestyle for an hour and a half now.  So far, so good.

Dodge City Graffiti

You know I love me some spray paint.

 But a few weeks ago some helpful young Dodge City-zens spray painted my meter.

And my garage.

  I'm still getting all my utility bills, so whatever meter that is is not greatly effected.  But the police came to my door one day and asked me to estimate the cost to repair the damage.  And I think I would like to have the garage replaced.  I have already pinned what the new one will look like.  In the meantime I have been ignoring thinking about the north side of the garage.  (And giving thanks that the Goob was not the young citizen that brought the police to my door.)  I didn't have any matching paint.  Nor do I want to invest in any paint for the garage.  Because I am waiting for it to fall down.  So I can rebuild it like the one I saw on Pinterest.  Until then there was still the matter of the garage graffiti.  You know I considered just adding additional spray paint.  But I didn't even want to spend $2.00 on the garage.

So today God Himself provided almost a gallon of matching paint.  For $1.00.  At a yard sale. 

So we set about covering over the garage graffiti.

As in, the STP painted and I documented.  Because it is good to document miracles.  Even $1.00 miracles.

The $1.00 paint is a little brighter.  But just a few sand storms should even things out.

And this is what it would look like from a trotting horse.

So the answer to the police question about the cost of reparations?  One dollar. 

Unless of course God Himself decides to go ahead and replace the garage.  I love me a good miracle.

In A Jam (In a Scrape)

A three ingredient recipe.

Apricots.

Sugar.                                     Lemon juice.

One instruction:  Stir.                                     FOR--EV---ER.

Add an apricot kernel to each jar.  Because that will give it an almond-like flavor and is very French and elevates your jam making experience from something your grandma might do to something Julia Child might do.

Ooo La La!

(I just mention this because if I cook again next week, you will know that something is seriously wrong.  Like a new level of hormone imbalance.  Or a brain tumor.  Or an early Fall.)

Things You Can't Learn From Google

If you already have a game warden for a friend, or you can't find a game warden to be your friend, might I suggest you get a friend with an apricot tree in her backyard.  A generous friend with a bumper crop of apricots.

What to do with 2 gallons of apricots?  Because it is summer, and because I used the oven just last week, I opted to do the simplest thing possible--dry them.  So I googled 'dehydrate apricots' and I watched a very helpful video which showed me how to pit my apricots and then told me to put them into my dehydrator.  And can I just say if I owned a dehydrator I wouldn't need to google how to dehydrate apricots.  But for your entertainment I took a few pictures of myself pitting apricots.  Which are much easier to pit than cherries.  

  And 80 times less messy.

 And almost fun.

My favorite part was 'popping' them.

And then, because I wanted sulfite free dried apricots, I rinsed them in lemon juice/water.

And then, since my oven would not set as low as 135 degrees, and because I live in a high plains desert with near triple digit heat and near zero humidity, I creatively set about dehydrating my apricots.  I did one batch in my compost sifter.  Set out in the sun.  With aluminum foil underneath to reflect more heat.

The Goob observed that apricots in the process of dehydrating look a lot like sweet potato pac-men.

And I did one batch on a cookie sheet.  And some on cookie sheets and wire racks.

 And then I put those cookie sheets in my car.  Which turns out to be a pretty good dehydrator.  And while it is expensive as far as dehydrators are concerned, it is not one of those single use kitchen tools that I detest. 

Some helpful things Google didn't warn me tell me about dehydrating apricots without a dehydrator--
1.  The front untinted windows in your car will work better than the back tinted windows. 
2.  The wire racks work better than just flat on a cookie sheet. 
3.  Wash your compost sifter very well before using it to dehydrate apricots. 
4.  Apricots drying in your car are less susceptible to squirrel attacks and stray bird droppings than apricots drying on your patio table.
5. A gallon of apricots makes just over a quart of dried apricots.

 (I got those jelly jars and that two quart canning jar FOR FREE at a yard sale.) 

6.   Once you start googling 'things to do with apricots' it could lead to making jam in near triple digit heat. Which defeats the plan to 'do something simple and involving no cooking' with your apricots.   



Time Flies

My month of reserved parking and my reign as Employee of the Month is coming to an end.  Just another note I didn't mention:  My official job title is Medical Laboratory Scientist.  Abbreviated Med Lab Scientist. And misspelled in the EOM announcement as Mad Lab Scientist.  Really.

Heart Mountain

The Goob and I had Monday off.  So we went to Heart Mountain.  Because it is on the sand pail list and summer is headed full speed towards the end of itself.

Me:  We are going to Heart Mountain this afternoon.
Goob:  Have a good time.
Me:  We.  As in you included.
Goob:  (Silent WHY accompanied by internal eye roll-imperceptible to all but his mother)
Me:  Because it is my duty as your Mom to educate you in matters of history and prejudice.
Goob:  I have a prejudice against museums.


The Heart Mountain museum does an excellent job of telling the story of Japanese Americans 'relocated' during WWII.  Even the Goob ended up engaged.  And hopefully a little less prejudiced.

Blue Beary Pie

Hey look!  The kitchen counter is clean.  There is no sign that some very serious baking  has gone on here.  Like three pie serious.

Hey wait!  What is that on the table?  Could it be a blueberry pie, made with fresh blueberries?

Say what?  I own a grizzly bear cookie cutter?  Oh , yes I do!  And I know how to use it.

Ta Da!  Ms. Brenda bakes a blue-beary pie. 

 Oh, and a blue-coyote pie. 

And a rhubarb crumble pie if you are keeping count.  It just took me the better part of a day--to psych myself up to do it.  And one whole morning to put them together.  And the better part of the afternoon to clean up the mess.  I hate pies.

Putt Putt, Kiss Kiss

Played a round of mini golf with the STP this past weekend.  And maybe for the first time ever I beat him.  And I got a hole in one on the last hole and won a free game.  Not too shabby. 
But the shot of the evening belonged to the STP.  Who had hit his ball onto the neighboring green.  (Not the shot of the evening, but part of the reason I managed to beat him.)  And then used his putter to flip the ball back onto the green we were playing on and right into the hole.  Unbelievable.  And we were standing there in awe lamenting that there was no video, and describing it to someone who had missed it.  And then the STP set up the shot again.  And made it again. And there is still no video and not even a still picture.  And the description does not do it justice.  So you will just have to trust me how amazing it was. 
I am proud to know that man.  I might treat him to another game before the summer ends.

Who Is That Masked Woman?

I got new sunglasses.  Prescription sunglasses.  Polarized so I can be a better fly fisher woman.  I am really happy with them.  I imagine they make me look like a movie star.  Because I really don't know what I look like in them.  So I took a picture of myself.  And maybe I look more like a blind woman wearing really thick dark glasses. 

Which will be equally impressive when I am fly fishing.  Look at that chubby blind fisherwoman.  Indeed, the fish may be stunned.