Hilary

Sounds of the Season

On the way to school this morning, DJ Mo-Dizz was in the back seat calling out her all time favorite Christmas songs. Topping the list was “Carol of the Bells” (color me surprised), selections from the Nutcracker, and “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” by the Jackson Five. Not a bad little playlist she has going on there.

Not to be outdone, Co chimed in that those were her favorite songs, too, and couldn’t I please turn on the Christmas channel on the radio.

“Lite 98! Lite 98!” Morgan crowed from the backseat as I fumbled with Pandora on my phone at a stoplight.

“I know, I know,” I said, but evidently, before 8am Lite 98 is still playing selections from the Hall and Oates and Peter Cetera catalog. No Christmas music. I hit search on the XM radio, hoping to find some holiday music, but came up with “No Diggity” on the 90s channel, “I Need You Tonight” on the 80s channel, and “Jar of Hearts” on the Blend.

We were going to miss out on some holiday tunes before the girls got to school if I didn’t get it together. Going with one of my favorites, “All I Want for Christmas Is You” by Mariah Carey (the original, sans Justin(e) Beiber), I created a holiday station that got their little voices rising and falling with the chorus of “Joy to the World”, “This Christmas,” and “Santa Baby.”

With the advent of Spotify, Pandora, I Heat Radio and the rest, my iTunes Christmas playlist is practically a relic. Still, in the month of December, I like to load it up, turn it to shuffle and let it do it’s thing. If you don’t have these on your rotation, do yourself a favor and add them before you get put on the naughty list.

1. Walking in a Winter Wonderland by Peggy Lee

2. What Child is This by Vanessa Williams

3. Stay a Little Longer Santa by Shemeika Copeland

4. Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt

5. Carol of the Bells by the American Boys Choir

6. My Favorite Things by the Supremes

7. Sleigh Ride by the Ronettes

8. Baby It’s Cold Outside by Dean Martin

9. The 12 Days of Christmas by Straight No Chaser

and of course, number 10. All I Want for Christmas (Is You) by Mariah Carey. I know there’s a video of Mariah frolicking in the snow, and I know that there’s a video of Mariah and Bieber frolicking through Macy’s. The video below, though, will get your holiday spirit soaring, or maybe just your sides splitting.

IN: ON: December 6, 2012 TAGS: my girls, winter BY: Hilary

You Got Some Explainin’ to Do

I was driving the girls home from school the other day, listening to them talk about what had happened over the course of the morning and early afternoon. Their chatter was pretty mindless, filled with descriptions of who reigned supreme on the monkey bars, who got called out during Comments, Questions, and Concerns, and why some parts of their lunch continue to remain uneaten (see: I do not like “crasty” sandwiches).

As we looped through the neighborhoods back to our own house, somehow their conversation turned to Vivi, what she had been doing, how cute she was, and oh, by the way, how’d she come out of your tummy anyway, Mom?

Mo, the current know-it-all in the bunch, volunteered to set Co straight. “See, what happens is that Mom goes to the doctor and they just cut her open and pull the baby out. “

Mo knows that she was born via C-section, but when we talk about her birth story, I know I didn’t use words like “cut” and “pull”. Mo likes to rile her sister up. This time, it didn’t work. Whereas Mo is my more cerebral child, Co is my comedian. Her take on how they were born?

And I quote: “Mom just pooped us out! Bwhahahahaha!” I think she likes saying “poop”.

Far be it from me to allow either of those pearls of wisdom to be perpetuated on the playground. We ended up having a rather in depth anatomy lesson and birthing story on the way home. Oh, how to begin? Well, since they weren’t interested in the beginning, we could skip to the end. They knew the baby was “in my tummy”, so I wanted to make sure that whatever I said was truthful and accurate. I was completely making it up as I went along, but I think it worked. You decide.

Me: Okay, so you know how men and women have different body parts? Well, a woman has a muscle in her body called a uterus.

Co: Do I have a uterus?

Me: Are you a woman?

Co: No, I’m a kid.

Me: massive eye roll. Yes, but you are a young woman. A girl. A female. Not a boy, right? So you have lady parts. And one of the lady parts is a uterus.

Mo: Mom?

Me: Yes?

Mo: Can you please tell the story?

Me: Yes, dear. Alright, so you’re with me so far about the uterus, right?

silence, so I take that as a green light and push forward.

Me: Okay, so a woman has a uterus. The uterus is like a house that the baby lives in as it grows. That’s why a woman’s middle gets big as the baby grows. It looks like it’s her stomach, but it’s really the uterus. Your stomach is where your food goes.

Co: When do you poop it out? *giggles*

Me: You don’t poop it out. What happens is. . .well, okay, so you know how I said that the uterus is like a house?

M & C: Yes. . .

Me: And when you are ready to leave the house, how do you come out?

Co: Through a door!

Me: Right, so the vagina *ugh, please don’t let them repeat this on the playground, please don’t let them repeat this on the playground* is like a door that the baby goes through in order to be born.

*and here’s where I die a thousand tiny deaths*

Mo: But. . it’s so SMALL!!

Me: I know, but it’s a muscle like the uterus and it stretches so the baby can come out. And, if you’re lucky, it’ll snap back when it’s all over!

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Mo: So when do they cut it open?

Me: Well, sometimes the baby can’t fit through the door or the baby is trying to come through the door the wrong way. Sometimes a doctor has to help the baby come out by making an incision to –

Co: What’s a in-siss-on?

Me & Mo: A cut.

Me: But an incision is more precise and it’s a medical procedure..

Mo: Mom, the baby.

Me: Yeah, I know. So, going back to the house and door. What if you were trying to get out of the house and all the doors were locked? How would you get out?

Mo: Through a window!

Co: Out the screen porch! Or I’d wait for you to come home and open the door.

Me: Let’s go with window. The incision the doctor makes is a different way, like using the window instead of the door, to take the baby out. Okay?

M & C: Okay.

Me: Okay. . .who wants a snack?

And end scene. Whew! I suppose I should be thankful they weren’t asking me how she got in there, right? I need to have another house, door, window analogy at the ready. Like, the uterus is a rental property the baby leases for nine months? Not rent to own, or anything. It’s like a timeshare? Oy. . .I got some work to do.

IN: ON: December 3, 2012 TAGS: funny stuff, growing up, my girls, sharing BY: Hilary

recipes

December

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that another year has practically been pulled from under my feet. I’m feeling a little bit bah humbuggy from yesterday, but it’s starting to thaw. There’s a slight sliver of giddiness in me now that winter is here.

If you search “December” on Tumblr, We Heart It, Google, or any other image producing sight, you’re bound to find scores of pictures that include out of focus Christmas lights, snowy pastoral scenes, cherub faced babies dressed like Santa, and dogs wearing antlers. There are images of steaming mugs of cocoa, of frost covered treetops, and of towers of red-ribboned presents being carried down snow speckled streets by nothing more than a pair of hands and denim clad legs.

It’s December, and aside from the commercialized side of things, I like the images associated with the twelfth month. I like looking at pictures of other people out in the snow while I burrow deeper into my pajamas and wrap my robe a little tighter.

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I like I like slate gray skies and puff balls of breath that coil from my mouth as I skip, slip, slide from the house to the car. I like seeing Christmas lights wink and blink into the night, long after the sun has traded places with the moon. I like cookie exchanges, Angel Trees, Mitten Trees, and office holiday parties. I like baked goods and family time. I like getting Christmas cards in the mail.

I like the growing potential the new year holds as each day of December presents its best self before becoming “that day when we did that thing that was so fun”.

Oh, and I like egg nog. Mmmm, nog.

December is here and maybe in eleven days, the Mayans will have the last laugh. I hope I get your Christmas card before then.

IN: recipes ON: December 1, 2012 TAGS: baking, cooking, food, om nom nom, recipes, winter BY: Hilary

recipes

Recipe Friday

Well, that just sucks.

I had written what was arguably the best blog post to date. I saved it, oh, did I save it. I closed the computer and when I came back to upload my pictures, guess what?

*Poof* No more post.

It’s fitting because I was going on and on about what a less than stellar week this has been.

I’m in a total “bah humbug” kind of mood. It started when we got back from Thanksgiving. The Hubs was already battling a cold and losing, impressively. He shared said cold with me (so much for my flu shot). The girls were overtired and in need of a sugar detox. By the time we were back in our own beds, Thanksgiving was in my rearview mirror and I’m all, “Wait! Was that it?”

We are fully going towards Christmas. It’s all over the place — on the TV, in the mail, on the radio, in my spam. It’s in my house, too.

We got our tree the Saturday after Thanksgiving. That’s unheard of around here. We usually get our tree like the week before. I’m start taking down the ornaments around 3:30pm Christmas Day. So the tree is up, as are the stockings and the wreath on the front door. The girls keep insisting that we trim the house with lights, set up an inflatable Santa on the front lawn, spray fake snow on the step, and get one of those Elf on a Shelf things. Elf on a Shelf? Right, because I don’t have enough to do. I got the Advent calendar up. I got the Christmas Carol Pandora Station going. I even made three separate trips to three separate Targets to find the right replacement bulbs for the fake candles I put in the front windows of the house.

Remember how I said that I didn’t really care that my pants didn’t snap after Thanksgiving. Yeah, well I lied. So I’m trying to be a more responsible eater. It’s SO hard though, because this is the season where food and drink are part and parcel of the experience. I mean, you can practically taste the butter, sugar and peppermint in the air. On those aforementioned trips to Target, I blew my hard earned cash trying to find a more waistline friendly coffee drink. Here’s a PSA: I’ve eaten brussel sprouts and cauliflower that taste better than Starbucks Skinny Peppermint Mocha Lattes and Skinny Caramel Machiattos. Either save your money or splurge on the fat content. You’ll come out ahead.

I’ve been cooking this week, but it’s been the standard fare: tacos, spaghetti, steak and potatoes. I made another batch of sausage and andouille soup because that’s good to have on hand for the nights when you’d rather re-heat than fully invest in a meat, starch, and veg.

I even went so far as to make cookies and blondies for the girls, and I didn’t even eat any. Hold your applause; I’m not too grown that I didn’t lick the bowl. And the beaters. A couple of times. Hey, it’s not like I was jamming soft, crumbly baked goods into my pie-hole.

Mmmm. . . .pie. . .

But I’m getting off track here. I’m just feeling like a big cranky, Grrrrr monster. If I had to draw a picture of it, it would be a giant scribble with fangs and red eyes. Surprisingly, it has absolutely nothing to do with my leg. I went to the doctor this week and was fully prepared for whatever he was ready to tell me. I didn’t bother to bring my matching sneaker because I knew that boot and I were going out as we came in: together. Sure enough, I’ve got another two weeks in the boot. It could be worse. It could be another two months in the boot. Of course, two weeks from today, there’s going to be a Bye-Bye Boot Bonfire in the backyard and I’ll be dancing around it holding the boot over my head like “Lord of the Flies” before I pitch it into the flames. Or, I may just unceremoniously dump it into the trash can. Either way, it’s a win.

The bottom-line is, I’m in need of some comfort.

I want to eat something warm, soft, and rich. I want to eat something so good that I close my eyes and forget my name. I want to eat something that when I bite into it, I should feel like I could crawl deep into its center, wrap myself in its goodness and take a nap. I want to eat something that tastes as good as a hug feels. It should be sweet and creamy and buttery and smooth and a little salty and have bacon and sugar and chocolate and of course, be less than 100 calories per serving. I mean, so long as I’m dreaming, right?

Where to find such a mythical creation? Why, hello, Pinterest. I’m sure you won’t fail to disappoint me.

Oh, this is so happening. . .

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Bacon Chocolate Chip Cookie with Maple Glaze from Penguins and Cupcakes

Originally from The baker chick

Makes about 2 dozen of cookies

Ingredients

2 cups plus 2 tbsp. all-purpose flour
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. salt
12 tbsp. unsalted butter room temperature
1 cup brown sugar, packed
½ cup granulated sugar
1 large egg plus 1 egg yolk
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 ½ cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 lb package of bacon strips- cooked until very crispy and cut into small bits.

3/4 cup powdered sugar
pure maple syrup

Directions

Adjust oven racks to upper and lower-middle positions. Preheat oven 325°. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Whisk dry ingredients together in a medium bowl; set aside. With electric mixer, mix butter and sugars until thoroughly combined. Beat in egg, yolk, and vanilla until combined. Add dry ingredients and beat at low-speed just until combined. Stir in chocolate chips and 1 cup of the bacon bits.

Roll a scant half-cup of dough into a ball. Holding dough ball in fingertips of both hands, pull apart into two equal halves. Rotate halves 90 degrees and, with jagged surfaces facing up, place formed dough onto cookie sheet, leaving ample room between each ball.

Bake, reversing position of cookie sheets halfway through baking, until cookies are light golden brown and outer edges start to harden yet centers are still soft and puffy (approximately 11-14 minutes). Do not overbake.

Cool cookies on sheets until able to lift without breaking. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

To make glaze- in a small bowl, add 1 tablespoon of maple syrup to the powdered sugar and stir. Add more maple syrup as needed until the glaze is a good, thick drizzling consistency. Sprinkle with remaining bacon bits.

IN: recipes ON: November 30, 2012 TAGS: baking, cooking, food, holidays, om nom nom, pinterest, recipes, winter BY: Hilary

Oh, hello again!

Ugh, my poor, poor blog. I’ve been neglecting you, I know. Thanksgiving has come and gone with a wham! bam! no more turkey ma’am! And I’m standing here with nary a leftover!

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. We traveled to Florida to visit with the Hubs’ side of the family. Fastest trip to and from Florida ever. Left on Wednesday and came back on Friday. Thanksgiving dinner was outstanding, and I am not even worried that the button and the button hole of my pants have broken up.

I caught myself being super prepared for traveling to Florida. Everyone had one set of pi’s, an outfit for traveling in and an outfit for Thanksgiving. Baggage fees are ridiculous and I was trying squash as much in a carry-on as possible. The first night away from home, I’m trying to wrangle the girls away from their cousins so that they can get ready for bed — an exercise in futility for sure, but you gotta try.

I’m pulling out a pair of lightweight pi’s for Co – it’s 75 degrees in South Florida, by the way — and she turns her nose up at them. This little biscuit, clad in nothing but a pull-up, starts telling me she wants her other pajamas, the ones with the feet. I don’t have any other pajamas and I for sure know that I didn’t pack any fleece, footed pajamas! Yet, Co keeps saying that they’ve been packed. Like a dummy, I’m digging in the bag that I packed myself, wondering if I put a second pair of pajamas in there. Finally, I sit back on my heels and say to Co, “Look, I don’t have any other pj’s for you. This is it.”

“Oh, I remember!,” Co says and literally slaps her palm to her forehead. She turns to her backpack, tosses aside a Monster High Doll, two coloring books and some crayons before fwipp! She pulls out a pair of fleece, footed pajamas. “I packed them myself! “

And so I added “self-sufficient children” to my list of thanks.

Like I said, the trip was quick. I’m pretty sure we spent more time traveling to and fro than actually with family. Still, the time together was great. My nephews have grown so much and yet they weren’t too big to play Wii, hide and seek, and whatever else the girls wanted. It was shame we didn’t have more time, but I’m hopeful we will all get together again soon.

This is the first year in a while that we didn’t watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The TV was permanently fixed on the series of football games that were being broadcast. I don’t mind football, but I would have liked to have at least seen the Rockette’s in the parade this year.

Last year, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade was on television while the family was in the kitchen prepping for the main event. The girls floated in and out of the family room, pausing in front of the screen to take in the sight of marching bands, super sized floats, and the scores of cartoon characters inflated high in the sky over the crowds. I checked some things out when I heard the broadcasters mentioned a name or group that I was particularly interested in seeing. Somehow, between setting the table, shuffling pots and pans, and trying to sneak off with a book for a hot minute, I caught the Rockettes the same time that Morgan and Coever did their pass by the TV.

Growing up, my grandmother used to tell me that she was the first Black Rockette. There wasn’t any evidence to back up her claim. There weren’t any fliers, there weren’t any photographs tucked into a worn photo album. There wasn’t anyone who could corroborate her story. She just repeated it every year, especially around the holidays when the Rockettes were more visible during the parade and their holiday extravaganza at Radio City. She was almost Pavlovian in her reaction. Rockette’s on TV? Here comes Gram, “I remember when I was Rockette, doing all those high kicks. “

For years, I believed her. Then with the cynicism that comes with early adulthood, I jumped onto Google one year to find out who indeed the first Black Rockette truly was. Her name is Jennifer Jones and she made her debut in 1988. Was I depressed at learning the truth? No, I was kind of proud. Gram had been consistently bestowing a gift on me year after year. Sure, she wasn’t the first, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t be if I wanted to. Whatever I wanted to be, I could.

Last year, when the girls and I caught the Rockette’s doing their performance, I thought about Gram. I thought about her maintaining her status as “the first Black Rockette”. When those ladies lined up to do their iconic line kick, I found myself tearing up. My throat grew thick with missing my gram, and the temptation to just whisper to the girls, “You know, your Great-Gram was a Rockette.”

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I didn’t tell them, of course. What with their access to Google and all things digital, they’d quickly figure things out. Instead, I told the story of how their Great-Gram Eleanor told me she had been a Rockette. I told them of how she had a department store’s worth of perfumes on her dresser, how she always said, “Hey, doll!” when she answered the phone. I told them that even though she passed away when Mo was just a baby and that Co and Vivi had never met her, she loves, loves, loves them dearly, and always will. I told them how lucky I was to have had an adult relationship with my grandparents and how lucky they are, too.

I guess I’m getting a little maudlin in my old age.

But enough with the trips down memory lane. To catch up on what’s been going on. . .hmmmm. . .nothing and everything. We have been busy in the minutiae of just living. Once we got back to VA, we decided to get a jump on the Christmas season. We got our tree on Saturday, if you can believe it. I’m the type of person who waits until a week before Christmas to get the tree and I’m already undressing it on Christmas afternoon. This is a big step for me! I think far enough ahead to get the girls’ Christmas photo snapped and our cards ordered. I decided that I was going to book a few jobs for holiday shoots and it would be best to get mine done early. I’m glad I did because I had a great shoot yesterday and two in the pipeline.

And I added “new and repeat clients” to my list of thanks.

My brother and his fiancee came by on their way home from my parents house on Saturday afternoon. It was a quick visit but a worthwhile one. Their wedding plans are underway and they officially invited Mo and Co to be flower girls on the big day. There’s an item Mo can check off her bucket list.

We are just moving right along, one day to the next, taking what come along with it. Tomorrow I go to the doctor and see where I am with my recovery. I’m hopeful that I can get out of this walking boot once and for all. I’m running out of wide leg pants!

IN: ON: November 26, 2012 TAGS: fall, holidays, reminiscing BY: Hilary

recipes

Recipe Friday: A Two-fer

I have no idea where the time is going. I just wake up, hit the floor and the next thing I know, I’m getting back in bed ready to do it all again in 8 hours (sometimes less). This past week has been no exception to whole “Where has the day/time/week” gone phenomenon. It was one of those rare weeks when the girls had random days off from school, none that were on the same day, mind you. There were a smattering of doctors appointments, physical therapy, and a mid-week date night. Suffice it to say, our babysitter made a killing this week and the girls have probably watched more TV than I would care to admit.

Somewhere in all of this, I have been dying to write, but just haven’t had a chance. I got myself a new notebook to keep in my bag, but it remains as pristine as the day it came home from Target. What kills me is that I have ideas I want to share. I have sticky notes peppering my car with my weird short-hand for subjects to blog about. I have had several people ask me — in person, no less — what this weeks recipe is going to be and I’ve got several pulled, but just haven’t had a chance to put my fingers on the keyboard. I know, cue the worlds smaller violin.

This week, the weather has been significantly cooler than it has earlier in the season. It’s has become soup weather, through and through. I’m not usually a soup eater; when I go out to restaurants, I cannot be enticed by the soup of the day. I will however, stick my spoon in your soup of the day (by invitation only, of course) and confirm your suspicions that yes, it is 1) delicious 2) just what you wanted or 3) none of the above. For instance, the hubs ordered the soup of the day the last time we had gone out. It was a pumpkin and sunflower seed bisque (I mentioned the bisque). I had ordered a salad, which was delightful, but the bisque was awesome. By the time I was ready for a second spoonful, there was barely enough for me to run my finger around the rim of the bowl. I didn’t! I didn’t! But I sure did think about it.

Maybe it’s more accurate to say that I like thicker, heartier soups. Those would be called stews, right? I’m a fan of the crockpot. I’m a groupie of Le Creuset.

Ohhhh, how I heart my new pot.

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Once I got it in the house, I put it to use right away and made the White Bean and Andouille Sausage with Collards. Then I made it again a few weeks later. And again last week. I’ve started making batches big enough to eat some for a few days and freeze the rest for a later date. And it only gets better with every incarnation! Except for the time I bought the wrong beans (Great Northern Beans instead of Cannellini) and totally changed the flavor profile. The hubs still liked it, but it just wasn’t working for me. Clever girl that I am, I strained out all of the Great Northern Beans, put the stock, sausage and collards in a pot and threw in a can (yes, I know) of Cannellini beans. Bing! Bang! Boom! Good as new.

So, for those of you who missed it the first time, here’s the original blog item and recipe can be found here. My version is below (and keep reading, because there’s another recipe, you lucky duck!).

White Bean Soup and Andouille Sausage and Collards Soup

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Ingredients

1 pound dried Cannellini beans
1/2 pound andouille sausage links
1 large onion, chopped
8 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 bunch collard greens, stems discarded and leaves cut into bite-size pieces (about 8 cups)
red wine vinegar
kosher salt and black pepper
french baguette or crusty bread for serving

Directions

Brown sausage links in a frying pan over medium to medium high heat. Remove sausage from pan and cut in half lengthwise. Cut each length into bite-sized pieces.
In a 4- to 6-quart slow cooker combine the beans, sausage, onion. Add the broth and stir to combine.
Cover and cook until the beans are tender, on low for 7 to 8 hours or on high for 4 to 5 hours (this will shorten total cooking time).
Twenty minutes before serving, add the collard greens, cover, and cook until the greens are tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Add the vinegar and ½ teaspoon each salt and pepper.
Serve with warm baguette

Mmmm, so good. And of course, you can’t have a hearty stew like that without a nice beverage pairing, right? I usually pair this with a Cabernet Sauvignon like J.Lohr or Rodney Strong. Aside from the bread, there isn’t any other “side dish”; the soup can stand alone on it’s own. Of course, if there is some room left for dessert — and for me, there always is — I’ve been pretty partial to some dark chocolate and a second (okay, third) glass of wine. My friend Claire over at GibsonKing wrote a delightful post about chocolate. I’ve sampled just about all of her recommendations, but my tried and true favorite is the dark chocolate with sea salt by Lindt. Two squares and I’m good to go.

I don’t really cook with chocolate, aside from dumping it out of the brownie box into the bowl or topping a few pancake cups with chocolate chips. The recipes that call for melted chocolate conveniently leave out the fact that (to quote my pal KSC), “your kitchen will look like an episode of Dexter when you’re done.” Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

Seeing as we are all about to be caught up in the maelstrom of the holidays, what better way to cap of this post than a recipe for pie. For the past few holiday seasons, I’ve had the urge to do this:

Pie in a Jar! Pie. In. A. Jar.

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Uhhhh, I really want to do this, but I always get sidetracked by the rest of the website where I found this idea. Not only do they suggest making pie in a jar, they changing out your cookie cutters to make mini pies for holiday gifts, complete with homemade tags!

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I just want to skip to the end with my single serving of warm pie in a jar and a cup of coffee.

I know I don’t have to go from peeling apples to labeling jars, but part of me feels like, “Hey, if you’re gonna do it, really do it!” Then I can add it to my “Pinned it. Did it.” board because, you know, I gotta maintain my Pinterest addiction.

But, back to pie. I’m an apple pie kind of girl, though I have been known to whip up a pumpkin pie from time to time. Real Simple Magazine just had an article about 10 Easy Pie Recipes for the Holidays, complete with a recipe for the crust itself. Call me old-fashioned, or maybe more like pressed for time, but I’m going with the pre-made shell. I do peel and chop my own apples, though! The pumpkin is definitely a puree. In any event, here’s a quick and easy apple pie recipe, courtesy of my dad.

Henry’s Apple Pie
Ingredients
6-8 Braeburn apples, peeled and sliced.
3/4 c sugar
2 tbs flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp nutmeg
2 pie shells
1 egg, beaten

Directions:
1. Combine apples, sugar, flour, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a mixing bowl.
2. Remove pie crusts from package. Fill one shell with the apple mixture.
3. Top first shell with second shell. Wetting your fingertips, seal the two shells together. Press around the edges with the tines of a fork for flair. Add four small slits on the top for venting.
4. Brush the pie crust with the beaten egg.

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5. Bake at 350 degrees F for 40 minutes or until golden brown

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6. Cool completely before slicing.
7. Serve with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a dollop of Cool “huh-whip”or just eat it “nekkid”.

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Enjoy, enjoy! And happy Friday (and Saturday), y’all!

IN: recipes ON: November 17, 2012 TAGS: baking, cooking, fall, food, om nom nom, pinterest, recipes BY: Hilary

What had happened was. . .

So I was in PT yesterday and sadly, Waldorf and Statler weren’t there. My PT guy and I got right down to business, and let me tell you, it’s surprisingly challenging considering I’m not doing a whole heck of a lot.

The first time I ever had PT was because I had arthroscopic knee surgery when I was in college. I did the crutches thing for a while, but this was when I was in my 20’s with just myself to look after. It wasn’t so bad. The PT was intense because I had to get serious range of motion back in my leg. I had to learn how to bend it again. For anyone who has ever had any kind of injury, you become pretty timid when you have to engage that area again for the first time. Considering the amount of pain I’d been in post knee surgery, having to put it back to use gave me some pause. The therapists know this and they start you off relatively slowly. After a while, they amp up your drills to get you moving and grooving. My range of motion on my knee was coming along, but my PT person thought I wasn’t giving it 100%. I remember laying up on this table while she manipulated my leg for me. She mentioned something about degrees of flexion and the next thing I know, my knee is practically tucked up under my chin. Uh, you know how people say when they’re in pain, they see stars? Yeah, I say the whole Milky Way, and let me tell you, there weren’t no chocolate involved.

Keeping that in mind, this time around, I showed up in my gym clothes. I was ready to sweat through some leg lifts or walking lunges or something. I knew I would be walking in no time.

Not even close.

I’ve only been three times and the closest thing to cardio I’ve done is putting a crap-ton of marbles from the floor into a red solo cup. . .using my toes. The only reason I broke a sweat was because that entire exercise is an exercise in frustration and little else.

When I’m not showing off my pedal dexterity, I spend a lot of time getting my leg massaged. There are pros and cons to that, of course. Massage? that’s a pro. However, you know how in the winter time, lots of ladies like to hang up their razors and go au naturale in the leg hair department? I’m one of those ladies. Since I got somebody rubbing on my leg twice a week, I’m up to my knees in Nair on a regular basis. That’s a con for sure, but sometimes you gotta suck it up for the good of the masses. And don’t even get me started on my pedicure situation. Oy!

In order to avoid the potential awkward silences that can come while someone lotions up (it puts the lotion in the basket!) and massages your leg, you are constantly grasping at things to talk about. We’ve covered kids, restaurants, movies, education, and sport. Currently, my PT guy and I are coming up with a list of better stories to explain my accident since tripping over a trash bag pretty much sucks as a story and in real life.

Here’s what we’ve come up with so far:

1. Cliff diving gone wrong.

2. Running with the bulls in Pamplona

Outta the way, snitches!
(image)

3. Shark bite.

4. Bar fight.

(image)

5. Choreography mishap on Beyonce’s latest tour.

The hubs and I are going out tonight to a reception at a gallery. I’m sure there will be someone whom I haven’t seen or never before met who will ask me what happened. I hope I can tell them with a straight face!

Which is your favorite? Which one should I use? Got any suggestions?

IN: ON: November 15, 2012 TAGS: fall, funny stuff, just do it, life BY: Hilary

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Hilary With One L

Hilary With One L

Hilary

Sounds of the Season

December

Recipe Friday

Oh, hello again!

Recipe Friday: A Two-fer

Ingredients

Directions

What had happened was. . .