Family Photo Project 2015- January

First Snow Day of 2015.
We had several inches fall in the early morning hours, which means our road wasn't touched by plow nor tire until after 10 a.m. School cancelled, work done at home, or not at all. One friend, who lives close to TBC (the big city), gave it a go on the roads, and it took her 1 1/2 hours to go 9 miles. Ugh.
So, snow day!
Perfect opportunity, with all at home to get started on the Family Photo Project 2015.
See, when we went to put a Christmas Card together this December, Eldest and I found that there was a dearth of family photos. We found one from last Christmas, and one "family selfie" taken at the ice cream shop on Middlest's birthday. That was it. All. Total. Totaal. Skupno. Gesamt. Totalt. (For my international readers in the Cowfeathers blogosphere).
So, one of my resolutions for 2015 is to not find myself in the same situation. A goal of a family photo a month. A lofty goal for a family on the move, but I am not afraid.
What I am is pushy.
So, we family photo'ed, despite the fact that Middlest had an allergic reaction this morning, prompting me to dig out some Benedryl-not an easy feat, as we are mostly a pharmacy free family, and have a pitiful selection ( no lie- I dug through the kid's bathroom cabinet and found Benedryl that expired in 1996.) I recalled buying some since then for the horse trailer first aid kit- to deal with bee sting potential, and that was a more recent expiry by 17 years (only about 1.5 years past expiration). Thankfully, it did it's job, ridding Middlest of urticaria on her hands, but also sent her into a lasting and grumpy stupor. We propped her up in the photo, reminiscent of Weekend at Bernie's- for those of us who recall 1989, and told her when to smile. Some days you need to find your inner Andrew McCarthy.

Family Photo Project 2015- January

Honor the onion/ Christmas at Cowfeathers

We are having winter at Cowfeathers. The wind is constant noise, shocking cold air pours around each light switch and zips your hand when you go to flip it, the shampoo is nearly frozen solid....winter. And, I am thankful for onions. Onions seem to be the start to most of our winterfood. Many evenings, as it gets dark and I still have NO IDEA what to make for supper, I start by chopping an onion. More vegetables usually follow, sweet potatoes (we were highly successful sweet potato growers this year), purple potatoes (also a long term win) squashes, carrots, rutabegas... I do love winter vegetables. Good thing, being vegetarian and all.... then into a _________ (stock pot, frying pan, oven to roast). The changes come in the delivery. Spices make it Indian, sauce can make it Welsh, or Thai, and good ol' salt and pepper make it plainly delish.
Tonight, and come to think of it, last night too, Huz is chopping the onion. Smells like love when he cooks for us. Last night was a cauliflower curry, and for the gluten-eaters, fresh sourdough rolls. They smelled like heaven and love. You'll have to confirm the taste with the rest of the fam.
He tells me he is currently conjuring up sweet potato, butternut squash soup with cauliflower and portabella mushroom "steaks".
Back off ladies, he's taken.

And, for some picture deliciousness...

Christmas at Cowfeathers:

We were blessed with a visit from my parents, and on Christmas Eve, we combined for a photosession/figure out self timing on the iPad.

Poppie and Middlest

Yummie and Poppie and the Grands!

Yummie and Poppie with one F1 and the F2s. Plus Tucker. Not sure of his genetic identity in relation to the fam. Youngest is running a fever in this picture and is not going to church, so Yummie has volunteered to stay home and supervise. He has been convinced to change into a shirt for pictures...

My girls.

Family photo

Me and my baby girls.

And my sweet boy!

Our 21st Christmas.

Christmas morning. Eldest got a bike for happy pedaling at University.

The traditional picture of the kids on the stairs waiting for the "OK" to come down and begin Christmas morning. This year there was one additional "kid". Plus a Princess.

One last picture of cuteness. Julia and Tucker got raised dog beds and a toy in each of their stockings. Julia is now taking Christmas seriously. It ROCKS.

2015! Purr.

2015!

This new year crept up on me quietly- because I allowed it to do so. I wouldn't call it a "resolution", but I have noticed in 2014, I have wanted a bit more quiet. Maybe less preparation, more laissez-faire. Not in the economic term but in the literal translation "You let to do".

More house cat, less Border Collie. 

New Year's Day, for most of the past 14 or so has meant our annual NYD Open House afternoon. My Border Collie in high gear, baking, decorating, cleaning, perfecting. The 8' dining table so squeezed full of food that the decoration of the table, and the chandelier have to accommodate. Two or three specialty cakes, tons of cookies, bowls of candy, savory tarts, European cheeses, nuts,  fruits sparking with sugar; never enough neighbors and friends to make much of a dent. There was punch with blobs of sherbet floating in the pink sweetness and a big keg of hot apple cider. It gave me a reason to un-decorate Christmas and re-decorate for New Years Day. The sadness of taking all the ornaments off the tree was replaced with Border Collie urgency get the tree prepared to be The Resolution Tree. Years of resolutions written on cards and hung on the tree by guests. Hundreds of them. It was always fun to read the tree. Childhood declarations to "Paly panio" or "Be nice to my sister", nestled next to the adult "Make more time to enjoy my family" and "Finally clean out the garage". And then the front door opening over and over with friends arriving to greet one another and start off the New Year with an afternoon of social simplicity. 

But this year my Border Collie didn't report for duty. Instead my inner house cat found curling up in the sunshine "making muffins" with my paws demanding enough. 

The Christmas trees are still just that, albeit with more droopy limbs and generous shed of needles. There is not a single cake to be found! No mountains of meringue with tiny little skiers, or dark chocolate buttercream with creme de menthe fillings crowd my "outdoor refrigerator". (This is the screen porch table which capably chills legions of food on an average New Year's Day.) I feel like maybe I should at least turn out a pie- after all tonight is a big "Game Night" in Ohio as the OSU football team takes on Alabama in the first NCAA play-off. Buckeye Pie appropriate. But instead I'm brewing my third glass of what I think of as Dutch tea- fresh mint stalks steeped in hot water, and enjoying the cold January 1st sunshine from inside. 

I do miss seeing the wonderful group of friends on New Year's Day that traditionally troops through  Cowfeathers.  But without my inner Border Collie nipping at my heels, my house cat may spend the day curled up in a warm place by the fire, until the conviction comes on that I should find someone to feed me.

The Sleeping Hat is Missing.

Ah, November.
At Cowfeathers, it means fires in the fireplaces, piles of sweet potatoes from the garden, the blankets get strapped on the horses, I start making things like "Irish Soda Bread" and "Spiced Pumpkin Soup". The tea pot gets a tea cozy, and I start using smaller cups. Baking once again becomes appealing...pretty much anything that keeps the kitchen warm because the oven is hot. And November means time to don the sleeping hat.
Only, this November I find myself in mild panic because I cannot find the sleeping hat. I believe I last wore it whilst tent camping in June, but that has not borne fruit of discovery.
My sleeping hat is a necessity to Cowfeathers comfort. I have not yet found anyone else who sleeps in a hat, but I highly recommend it if'n you're comin' for a visit!
According to the expert in everything, Wikipedia, " Nightcaps are not often worn in modern times. They are often featured in animation and other media as part of a character's pajamas." This is accompanied by the following illustration:


So, this is me.
Wikipedia also says " They were common in northern Europe before central heating was available, when homes were cold at night." Which explains a lot, as although we do have central heating, it is a little less than the word "heating" would imply.
I started wearing The Sleeping Hat several years ago. It came about after Christmas in 2006? when I said to my nearly slumbering Huz; "My head is just so cold" as I attempted to join him in sleep with a hand on my crown for warmth. He sensibly suggested "Why don't you wear a hat?"
It just so happened that for Christmas that year , Huz's Mom, who is a sensational seamstress, had gifted me a hat she had sewn out of soft polar tech fleece. The hat was on a pile of my new presents next to the bed. I reached over and snatched it up under the warming covers. When pulled into place, my head became instantly warm, also, it became instantly dark. This is because I have a head that is deceivingly small.  My noggin is about the same size as a child. It helps when teaching riding lessons, because if I need to get on a kid's horse to ride it, I can usually borrow their little helmet. Also, hats usually look good on me, probably because they balance my head, and it looks normally sized?

I guess I choose big sunglasses too.
Anyway, it was dark in my new hat because the brim settled down to about the middle of my nose. Warm, and cozy and dark. I fell asleep that night with a warm head.
Happily, the new sleeping hat also fixed another issue I had been battling. Every winter for a few years, I had lost my voice for weeks at a time. This was not a sad thing for my family, but what they called "Vacation". Still, it was a frustration for me, and most difficult at work. Have you ever had a whispering doctor? Pretty weird. Not to mention the hardship of making phone calls. This added a burden to my staff, as I would have to snag someone to call, they would dial, relay the problem to the answering party, then proceed play interpreter for the client."She said; 'It looks like Jonesy is having liver problems.' "  Dreadful.
But after donning the sleeping hat, I've not lost my voice once.
Which may be a clue to why my sleeping hat is now missing.

Even so, I am now in the market for a new sleeping hat. My search has turned up three populations to which sleeping hats are marketed.

• Newborn infants
• Cancer patients who have lost their hair to chemotherapy
• African-Americans, I think for protecting the style of their afro?

I'll tell you who does not buy sleeping hats. Middle aged white women who still have hair. I haven't given up on you, Etsy. I know somewhere in your vast resources my sleeping hat awaits. In the mean time I found these two contenders:

 Option one: Possible because of peanut-sized head (see paragraph above), also, gives the illusion that I have really long eyelashes. It looks warm.

 Option two: talk about warm! And, hard to lose that one. Plenty dark in there for happy sleeping, probably even in daytime. The very unusual shape would deter me from sleeping any way but on my back. Huz could use my hat as an additional pillow. For that matter, I wouldn't need a pillow. Think of the possiblity on car trips! You could lean against the window without getting a crick in the neck. Plus, the odd holes in the sides could store things. Like, snacks, or magazines?

I am currently using a wonderful hat knit by my dear friend, Lee Lee. It is green, and pretty, one of my favorite "day hats". See, I wear a hat all winter, pretty much everywhere but at work. Work has heat. But it isn't the sleeping hat. It fits, so doesn't keep my nose warm. Plus it tends to slide off when I'm sleeping and then I wake up several times a night to grope around the bed and floor to find it and re-apply.
Maybe Santa will bring me one of his for Christmas. He's got a big head, and I'll bet that sucker is toasty warm! 

NCSU-CVM 20th Reunion- going Back.

You can't go Back. Back just won't have you. If you stay, the changes are subtle and gradual, and they are assimilated. But if you leave, going Back is a jolt to your system, connections are lost- place isn't quite the same.
Still, it is an exercise in memory and sense to try going Back. Some things will spark a memory, other things are just confusing. Huz and I attempted Back last weekend. Back to where we met- Raleigh, N.C. And, a few things looked familiar, a few things sounded familiar, but nothing felt familiar.

I moved to Raleigh, N.C. in 1988. I left the area after the birth of Eldest in 1995. They were busy years for me. Objectively, I obtained a career, a husband and started my family. But the reason I landed in Raleigh was the career. I wanted to go to Veterinary School. This I had decided at age 12. It was an unflagging certainty that never waned, and for that I am grateful. It is easier to get somewhere when you are driven. I had started my higher ed at University of Richmond, where I collected some of the greatest friends in the great, great world. But, not even leaving them could sway me from my vet school goal. So, I transferred to North Carolina State University, the home of the Veterinary School which I had set my sights upon. I was in Great Britain for the summer months, so returned to the states to a packed "U Haul" (my mother had been busy at summer garage sales in prep for me setting up my first home) and drove to the unknown in Raleigh. While I was "across the pond" a friend of my mother's had picked out an apartment for me, and there I went. To Ivy Commons. It had air conditioning- which I didn't use, because at $350/month the rent was a stretch! That year I found friends, Mereth and Shila in quick succession, and the Dean's List. Aiko the cat shared my apartment- perhaps illegally.
My life got bigger as I moved to Bloodworth St. in downtown with Shila, acquired a dog, Randleigh, and a job milking cows.
My 1st year Vet School class was a tidy one. We may not have been conflict-free ( I did get punched in the kisser by a classmate-betcha can't wait to hear that story) but for the most part we were a tight, friendly group. We supported one another, cheered each other on, and someone had your back. I didn't feel there was jockeying for top rank- but perhaps that's because I wasn't in that horse race. For the most part, my class was inhabited by 70ish people I genuinely liked. And, I loved some too!

You can't go back. Raleigh has changed. For one, Huz and I stayed at the Bed and Breakfast down the street from my old house on Bloodworth Street, and we walked around the neighborhood. At night.
But here's what hasn't changed; the bond. It only takes minutes, when back in the embrace of a friend, to be exactly where we left off- the passage of time erases, and I wonder why I don't see these friends more often. I have been so fortunate in my life to have found such wonderful friendships. I may have exceeded my quota. But, darn if I don't want to be greedy and enjoy each one regularly.
20 years was too long. 5 is too, but I'll take it. Here's to hoping for a 25th Vet School Reunion! 
See Y'all soon!

DDK and me...now. I had forgotten how little she was until I went to hug her and put my chest in her face. So...I crouched down for a picture!

DDK and me....then. With classmate Kim as "hear no evil". I love this picture for a few reasons. We "dressed" for a party. I had a fancy party. And, check out that fireplace! Not typical college digs. It may have not been the safest place to live, but it was a great house.

This is the house, now. I have to say, when Shila and I lived here, it looked a LOT more "homey". Shila always had an abundance of plants and flowers, hanging baskets and color. We had a porch swing full of pillows, and a garden blooming with perennials. The house, then, was painted a drab yellow, so this is an improvement, but when we lived there it looked loved.

Here are some of my vet school chums having supper on the front steps of Bloodworth Street. I love this picture for another whole set of reasons. Catfish is in it, and we all miss him. The girls are all in panty hose. And, even though we hosted this party for my entire class, and dates, we still had enough china, flatware and crystal. Not one paper plate or plastic fork. Never doubt my deep seated addiction to tableware.

This was 1991. Per usual, Spidey is buried in girls. 

 

Re-creation of the photo, 23 years later. How I have missed these friends! Ladue couldn't be here for the reunion, so Deanna took her place (less blonde, less tall, but it works!)

Oh boy.

The Last Annual Barn Party!

When we bought Cowfeathers 11 years ago, I had so many plans for the place! They all piled up in my brain to be sifted out and tackled in turn. The barn is so beautiful, and has the stamp of hundreds of years of use in every beam...the barn will be 2 centuries old this decade. More about that later. But, when I walked around the top of the barn, with its worn, heavy floors and soaring height, I saw it as the ideal place for a Barn Dance. And 9 years ago, for Huz' 40th Birthday, the first Barn Party commenced. Because it was also a big birthday, and a huge novelty, we had family from all over, friends from all over, all the neighbors, tons of food and the best darn band I ever was lucky enough to book! We all loved the party, if not the temperature- it was COLD. And it became an annual event, albeit a month earlier in the calendar.
 This year, I believe was the last Annual Barn Party.
A pictorial of  this year's event, once again graced with fabulous weather, in this beautiful, old barn.

 Pete Shew and the Back Porch Swing Band have set aside a Saturday evening in the fall each year for the past 9. They come in one or two at a time, until we have a wonderful crew of musicians, singing, calling squares and boy, I love that fiddle!

This little guy figured out an "allemande left with a grand chain" smart as a whip!

 We had some ADORABLE kids here this year! They helped sing, play maracas, and were fast learners in the square dancing challenge.

Tucker has been to all 9 barn parties. He was a youngster at the first, and an elder statesman at the last. 

 The first year of the Barn Party, I rented a porta-potty. Really not my thing. It was expensive, and icky. So, the next year, before September rolled around, I built an outhouse for the barn. Charming, well appointed, full of light from the window, people didn't mind using this outhouse. It had a Dorothy moment a few years back when it got picked up by the wind and deposited in the cornfield. Luckily, we have friends. And a fine group showed up to roll it back into place. The window didn't even break! But, alas, the door was never the same again.

 Dad encouraging this cutie to shake those maracas!

 Unlike some years, when gale force winds had us all inside the barn, this year was warm, with a light breeze. Perfect for listening to a band play old standards and eat a plate of pot luck. Julia (black dog) didn't exactly beg...she just put herself very, very close.

I am terrible about hostessing as well as snapping photos. Fortunately for me, one of my pals picked up my camera and shot some pictures, allowing me to forever have this image of myself doing "The Blurry Robot."

.

 And this, better one of Huz and his "country gal".

 This year was a great year for kids who wanted to dance. And, to me, this is a big part of why I love this party. Kids and their parents dancing together, seeing Mom and Dad having fun, being foolish. And in the square, everyone is an equal partner, or corner...

 Speaking of corners, this was the boyz corner. Ironically, opposite the girlz, who were sitting together outside. It was like 7th grade all over again!

 This is my boss, Dr. John, "goin' roun' the outside" with a capable little dance partner.

 The big kids gettin' fancy! Eldest was my only child who could be at the Barn Party this year. Both Middlest and Youngest had band obligations. This is a central reason why this party will be the last. It has been years since my children could all be here, and while they are elsewhere, I am missing out on cheering them on in their pursuits. But, at least Eldest made it! She brought a friend, Nick, and I think they danced every square.

 For many dances, Julia wanted to participate. But by now, all these folks are expert at dancing around dogs and children!

 And boy, do I love that fiddle! This night of the year is the best night to do the barn chores. As I feed and water all the critters below, the band playing above seems like magic!

Eventually, Julia found her safe spot, where she could observe everyone but didn't get stepped on.

Leaving the Barn Party behind makes room for something else? We shall see. And, perhaps I will revive some sort of barn centered celebration for the bicentennial of the Cowfeathers Barn!













twice!

My Eating Disorder? VAD.

I have an eating disorder. I don't' know if it has a name. So, lets name it. Hmmm. It's kinda like morning sickness all the time, but not as nauseous. I start stressing every morning about what I am going to scrape together for dinner, because nothing sounds good, appetizing. But, once I have food in front of me, I've no problem putting it away! Sometimes I go to the market and wander around, hoping for inspiration, or browse the magazine rack "PAULA DEEN'S DELICOUS EATING!" ,"Food Connoisseur", "Gluten-Free Baking" and see gooey treats or blackened kale with truffle oil, and blah. I wander the produce section saying to myself "So, what can I do with carrots? " or, "Avocados look ripe... what would I do with an avocados?" And, sometimes divine fortune smiles upon me and I think of something! Red peppers will speak to me "Roast me, and toss me with olive oil and feta cheese...then gobs of fresh basil and broil me on some bread.." and I will do so, and my husband will think I'm brilliant and normal.
Instead, many nights I think about what to serve all day, and still, still, when Huz gets home I got nuthin'. NOT A PLAN. Some nights I go for a cover, and put rice on the stove. It's a base. If I come up with zip, zero, a can a black beans on the rice and a tub of sour cream keep the family from mutiny. Of course, I am leaving out a few things in pursuit of a name for my dyscrasia. Namely, that both Huz and Youngest are formidable in the kitchen. They are aces at putting dinner on the table. Without them, the past 5 Thanksgiving dinners would have consisted of a plate of mashed potatoes and a side of cornflakes. But, aside from their possible role as enablers, I don't think they are germane to the question at hand. A term for my inability to find a desirable foodstuff.
So. I have VAD: Vapid Appetance Disorder
There ya go.


I know my changes in diet have indubitably helped my health. VAD may be a side effect?
(For those of you fortunate enough to have not attempted to cook for me, go to a restaurant or give me a "Hey, ya want some?" treat, I am, well, difficult. To make a long list short, I usually call my diet a "gluten-free, vegetarian, whole food diet"...with a few food allergies to things that are ridiculous. Who is allergic to cucumbers???? OH, and for those of you unfortunate to try and go anywhere or do anything with me prior to my dietary changes? I am truly, deeply, forever sorry. And if you are still my friend you forever have my respect. I owe you one. Or more. Depending. HOW did Huz put up with me all those years?)
If VAD is what I have to deal with it is vastly better than what I lived with before.
As for today's menu suffering? It was one of those "Go to the market and wander about" days. I eventually decided on stuffing some Delicata squash. And then I saw some ciabatta that looked like my family would approve. This fleshed out to be a dinner of Mahi-Mahi with roasted red peppers on ciabatta and roasted Delicata squash stuffed with fresh spinach pesto and walnuts. My portion will forgo the ciabatta. I do eat fish ( I don't muddy with waters with being a "pescatarian") .  Lest you think I have VAD due to some puerile notion that in order for food to be delicious I must eat like a hipster or Latte-Leftie...today for lunch I was perfectly satisfied with left over butternut squash soup (thank you, Huz) and some red grapes. Hmhn. That sounded pretty latte-like. For breakfast I had a plain scrambled egg? True, I did not have a side of shot-it-myself-venison sausage, but that is because, well, I'd be ill. So, as for a reason for the VAD? Open to suggestions!
Life is learning.

Theirs. Mine had no bun. But delish! And, I highly recommend the soft, sweet Delicata squash with the rich walnut, spinach pesto. It still didn't sound good, but it sure did taste fine.