The best thing about cool weather is the cooking. I love soups and warm, cozy comfort food. Of course, I like warm weather better, but every cloud has it's silver lining.....
Spring is coming soon; I know it is true because the sun was still shinin' tonight at almost six. The days are getting longer and I'm reveling in each extra minute of sunshine.
Regardless, it is still cold out and I can still cook some cold weather food. So, I did. I'm making Shelly's Wild Rice Soup and Hawaiian Sandwiches. The soup recipe will follow, and the sandwich recipe may be found here.
Shelly's Wild Rice Soup
My sister sent this recipe from a friend of hers. It is easy and wonderfully good.
Prepare 1 box Zatarans Long Gran & Wild Rice as directed
Saute: 1 stick butter, 1 sweet onion, chopped, 3 carrots, 1/2 C celery. Add 1/2 lb mushrooms sliced thinly & 1 1/2 C Canadian bacon, chopped.
*I have used chicken and ham, as I don't keep Canadian Bacon on hand. They are great substitutes
Cook until soft & add 3/4 C flour to vegetables. Stir well. Wisk in 2 (26 oz) containers chicken stock. Add the cooked rice. Just before serving add 1 C half & half. Optional: chopped chives on top. It makes a large batch.
This soup is very filling and flavorful. Enjoy!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Parent-Teacher Conferences
The good thing about homeschooling is that you can talk to yourself and claim you are having a parent-teacher conference. Or, you can schedule a date night with your husband in the name of needing a "conference". A parent-teacher conference is a flexible thing in the homeschool world.
Not so in the public school world.
I still have one child in the public school systems. Last night was conference night. I anticipated a night of bad news, given The Big Girl's level of stress the last few weeks. Overall, it was much more pleasant than that.
The music teachers love her, and think she is hard-working and sweet. The history teacher thinks she is doing great and is hard-working. The LA teacher thinks she is polite and hard-working. The Chemistry teacher thinks she is doing great and is hard-working. The math teacher has high hopes because she is so very hard-working. Though the class is very difficult, she'll do fine. Are we seeing a pattern here? Oh, then there are the Spanish teachers who love her, and think she is, yes, hard-working, and has a natural ability in Spanish and should major or minor in it in college. Wow. Then we go to ACT Prep. ACT Prep has two teachers. The first thinks she is doing great. Why the poor grade in that class from a student that primarily gets A's? Hmmm....well....she has almost all A's in my part of the class. Better talk to the other teacher.
And the fun began.
Getting on a merry-go-round and singing at the top of my lungs would have been more productive. The teacher never figured out who my daughter was, and spent the entire conversation lamenting the poor grammar skills of the high school students. Apparently seven out of eight students in her class, after weeks of instruction, still cannot identify the subject and verb in a sentence. So, she is attempting to teach juniors the grammar they should have grasped by third or fourth grade. Eight years of grammar in one semester. For ACT Prep.
Oh, and my daughter? She was the one out of eight who got the questions right. She had no idea she had a poor grade in the class because she has never seen her tests since they were graded. She doesn't know what to work on because she doesn't know what she missed.
I was left scratching my head in wonder and amazement. I'm so thankful for all the other teachers because their reports were consistent and positive. I'm choosing to dwell on them, but I'm left questioning how in the world to help The Big Girl keep from sabatoging her GPA with this class. And I'm looking forward to tonight, when I can have a homeschool-style parent-teacher conference, snuggled up to my husband.
Not so in the public school world.
I still have one child in the public school systems. Last night was conference night. I anticipated a night of bad news, given The Big Girl's level of stress the last few weeks. Overall, it was much more pleasant than that.
The music teachers love her, and think she is hard-working and sweet. The history teacher thinks she is doing great and is hard-working. The LA teacher thinks she is polite and hard-working. The Chemistry teacher thinks she is doing great and is hard-working. The math teacher has high hopes because she is so very hard-working. Though the class is very difficult, she'll do fine. Are we seeing a pattern here? Oh, then there are the Spanish teachers who love her, and think she is, yes, hard-working, and has a natural ability in Spanish and should major or minor in it in college. Wow. Then we go to ACT Prep. ACT Prep has two teachers. The first thinks she is doing great. Why the poor grade in that class from a student that primarily gets A's? Hmmm....well....she has almost all A's in my part of the class. Better talk to the other teacher.
And the fun began.
Getting on a merry-go-round and singing at the top of my lungs would have been more productive. The teacher never figured out who my daughter was, and spent the entire conversation lamenting the poor grammar skills of the high school students. Apparently seven out of eight students in her class, after weeks of instruction, still cannot identify the subject and verb in a sentence. So, she is attempting to teach juniors the grammar they should have grasped by third or fourth grade. Eight years of grammar in one semester. For ACT Prep.
Oh, and my daughter? She was the one out of eight who got the questions right. She had no idea she had a poor grade in the class because she has never seen her tests since they were graded. She doesn't know what to work on because she doesn't know what she missed.
I was left scratching my head in wonder and amazement. I'm so thankful for all the other teachers because their reports were consistent and positive. I'm choosing to dwell on them, but I'm left questioning how in the world to help The Big Girl keep from sabatoging her GPA with this class. And I'm looking forward to tonight, when I can have a homeschool-style parent-teacher conference, snuggled up to my husband.
Monday, February 22, 2010
I'm Not Too Sure About This.....
My sweet children have discovered Skype . The Big Boy was home this weekend, visiting with his friend-that-is-a-girl via Skype.
"You mean we can talk to YOU that way?" they asked their big brother with hopeful excitement.
"Yes, if you get an account."
Thanks, Big Bro.
Really, it isn't so bad as long as I never go near the computer when it is on.
Why?
Well, if you have used Skype, you know the first thing that happens is a flash of "what YOU look like".
Having just crawled out of bed this morning, sipping on my first cup of coffee after a very long night being up with Thing 2, I wasn't prepared. In fact I was truly scared. I thought, "Who the heck is THAT?" Then I realized. Then I started researching surgeons.
Oh, dear. Twitter, texting, calling...all that is great. Because you can't see me! Skype? I don't know if all the makeup in the world will make that tolerable.
"You mean we can talk to YOU that way?" they asked their big brother with hopeful excitement.
"Yes, if you get an account."
Thanks, Big Bro.
Really, it isn't so bad as long as I never go near the computer when it is on.
Why?
Well, if you have used Skype, you know the first thing that happens is a flash of "what YOU look like".
Having just crawled out of bed this morning, sipping on my first cup of coffee after a very long night being up with Thing 2, I wasn't prepared. In fact I was truly scared. I thought, "Who the heck is THAT?" Then I realized. Then I started researching surgeons.
Oh, dear. Twitter, texting, calling...all that is great. Because you can't see me! Skype? I don't know if all the makeup in the world will make that tolerable.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Four-Day Sour Cream Cake
At Thanksgiving, the "hit" of the dinner was a cake that my dad's wife brought. She left some for my family and my husband allllmost refused to share. I thought it may come to blows until I offered to get the recipe. Thus, hope sprang eternal that this may not be the last of this fabulous cake.
So, I called Dad's wife, S, and discovered that she got the recipe from an old church cookbook, and it was originally from my brother's mother-in-law. Aren't small towns grand?
So, in hopes I have sufficiently given credit where it is due, I am sharing this unbelievable recipe with you. It is a cross between a coconut-cream-pie shake and cake. Trust me. Delicious.
I'm planning to have it at the one meal I get to cook for The Big Boy this weekend. Given how the week is gone, it will have to be a Two-Day cake instead of Four, but I'm sure we will survive.
Four-Day Sour Cream Cake
1 butter flavored yellow cake mix
2 C sugar
16 oz sour cream
12 oz frozen coconut (I used regular non-frozen coconut)
1 1/2 C Cool Whip
Combine sugar, sour cream, and coconut. Blend well. Chill 4 hours. Reserve 1 C for frosting. Remaining is to be spread between layers.
Mix cake as directed on package. Bake in 2 (9 in) layer pans. When cool, split to make four layers.
Mix the 1 C sour cream mixture with Cool Whip. Spread first mixture between layers then ice the cake with remaining Cool Whip mixture. Store in airtight container for four days. Can be eaten before, but gets more moist with time.
So, I called Dad's wife, S, and discovered that she got the recipe from an old church cookbook, and it was originally from my brother's mother-in-law. Aren't small towns grand?
So, in hopes I have sufficiently given credit where it is due, I am sharing this unbelievable recipe with you. It is a cross between a coconut-cream-pie shake and cake. Trust me. Delicious.
I'm planning to have it at the one meal I get to cook for The Big Boy this weekend. Given how the week is gone, it will have to be a Two-Day cake instead of Four, but I'm sure we will survive.
Four-Day Sour Cream Cake
1 butter flavored yellow cake mix
2 C sugar
16 oz sour cream
12 oz frozen coconut (I used regular non-frozen coconut)
1 1/2 C Cool Whip
Combine sugar, sour cream, and coconut. Blend well. Chill 4 hours. Reserve 1 C for frosting. Remaining is to be spread between layers.
Mix cake as directed on package. Bake in 2 (9 in) layer pans. When cool, split to make four layers.
Mix the 1 C sour cream mixture with Cool Whip. Spread first mixture between layers then ice the cake with remaining Cool Whip mixture. Store in airtight container for four days. Can be eaten before, but gets more moist with time.
The Longest Month of the Year
Don't let the calendar fool you. Anyone who lives anywhere north of Miami can tell you that contrary to the long-held belief that February, because it has only 28 days (excepting leap years, of course), is the shortest month of the year, for all practical purposes, it is the longest.
The poor football fans are left with nothing to do. Baseball fans are in eager anticipation of the beginning of their season. March madness is not quite here. The sun doesn't shine for weeks on end. The kids are climbing the walls wanting to play outside, but it is so cold they can't last long. The stores and shops are full of bikinis and shorty-shorts while we look at our own pasty white skin and fluffy winter bodies and cringe. Some cling to Valentine's Day as a special holiday, when in reality, most barely tolerate it or even scorn it because we have figured out it is a floral/greeting card induced holiday that just isn't all "that".
If February was any longer, I don't think we could take it.
In our little corner of the world, it hasn't been much better. In the beginning of the month, Thing 1 closed the car door on his thumb. It was ugly. Thankfully, xrays revealed nothing broken, but he couldn't play guitar or piano for two full weeks. Well, we all think he may have been able to, and he may have just milked it for all it was worth. No one knows for sure. Then I got a kidney infection. No one had seen Mom stay in bed for that long, let alone take a nap eight times each day. The bright spot in it all was Disciple Now weekend, where we had a house full of tenth grade boys and college dudes as leaders. They ate a lot. God moved. It was our February time to get out of our schedules and comfort zones and watch God work, which is always fascinating and enlightening. Oh, and sometimes exhausting. Thing 1 and The Big Girl participated in other homes, and we missed them. In the week following when I was to clean and catch up laundry before The Big Boy comes home from school, every spare minute has been at the hospital where Hubby's father has been for nine days now. He went in last week because the eye doctor noticed some abnormalities that led him to check BP. After spending a couple of days in ICU trying to get his BP under control, he was given some shocking diagnoses that led to surgery this week. We are praising God that he is doing well and we are amazed at how God orchestrated the whole thing to discover what was wrong before something really bad happened.
This weekend The Big Boy is coming home. The Things are participating in the Music Festival which has them such bundles of nerves that emotions are raw. The laundry in the laundry room is roughly the height of The Big Boy, and I doubt it gets much better upon his return tonight, but I don't care because I need a hug. Because, you see, as I sit typing this, the message light on the phone is blinking next to me and I know what it is. The soccer coach is letting me know when we first get to sit out in sub-zero temps watching kids kick around a little white ball.
And there is still a week left in this never-ending month.
The poor football fans are left with nothing to do. Baseball fans are in eager anticipation of the beginning of their season. March madness is not quite here. The sun doesn't shine for weeks on end. The kids are climbing the walls wanting to play outside, but it is so cold they can't last long. The stores and shops are full of bikinis and shorty-shorts while we look at our own pasty white skin and fluffy winter bodies and cringe. Some cling to Valentine's Day as a special holiday, when in reality, most barely tolerate it or even scorn it because we have figured out it is a floral/greeting card induced holiday that just isn't all "that".
If February was any longer, I don't think we could take it.
In our little corner of the world, it hasn't been much better. In the beginning of the month, Thing 1 closed the car door on his thumb. It was ugly. Thankfully, xrays revealed nothing broken, but he couldn't play guitar or piano for two full weeks. Well, we all think he may have been able to, and he may have just milked it for all it was worth. No one knows for sure. Then I got a kidney infection. No one had seen Mom stay in bed for that long, let alone take a nap eight times each day. The bright spot in it all was Disciple Now weekend, where we had a house full of tenth grade boys and college dudes as leaders. They ate a lot. God moved. It was our February time to get out of our schedules and comfort zones and watch God work, which is always fascinating and enlightening. Oh, and sometimes exhausting. Thing 1 and The Big Girl participated in other homes, and we missed them. In the week following when I was to clean and catch up laundry before The Big Boy comes home from school, every spare minute has been at the hospital where Hubby's father has been for nine days now. He went in last week because the eye doctor noticed some abnormalities that led him to check BP. After spending a couple of days in ICU trying to get his BP under control, he was given some shocking diagnoses that led to surgery this week. We are praising God that he is doing well and we are amazed at how God orchestrated the whole thing to discover what was wrong before something really bad happened.
This weekend The Big Boy is coming home. The Things are participating in the Music Festival which has them such bundles of nerves that emotions are raw. The laundry in the laundry room is roughly the height of The Big Boy, and I doubt it gets much better upon his return tonight, but I don't care because I need a hug. Because, you see, as I sit typing this, the message light on the phone is blinking next to me and I know what it is. The soccer coach is letting me know when we first get to sit out in sub-zero temps watching kids kick around a little white ball.
And there is still a week left in this never-ending month.
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