Compliments of my cousin, Melissa, we enjoyed her cast iron skillet breakfast casserole. So mouth-watering, fragrant, and tasty! I can’t wait to play with the recipe when I get home.
Cast Iron Breakfast Casserole
Ingredients:
1 package tater tots
1 dozen eggs
1 cup diced turkey ham (or your ham choice)
1 cup grated cheese
salt and pepper
butter
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Generously butter inside of seasoned cast iron skillet.
3. Line bottom and edges with tater tots.
4. Sprinkle ham over tater tot crust.
5. In separate bowl, whisk eggs until well combined. Add salt and pepper to taste and mix. Pour over ham and crust. (Cayenne would be great, too!).
6. Sprinkle cheese on top.
7. Bake in oven. Start checking at 45 minutes by jiggling pan for movement or sticking fork in center for doneness. We like a crispy crust, so ours cooked for about 1 hour.
8. Remove from oven. It will continue to cook for a bit more. Slice and serve while warm. Delish!
Optional toppings: salsa or ketchup (for the youngers, not me), chopped green onions, sour cream, Tabasco. I’d like to experiment with green peppers, green chilis, spinach, broccoli, kale, and cherry tomatoes, though not all at once. Mmm.
Thanks, Melissa! I am inspired to re-season my cast iron skillet and whip up some breakfast casserole!
A 40 year friendship! You can see Crystal Lake but not Mt. Rainier, which is glowing in the background. Selfies are not my strong suit…
We first met 40 years ago today, Labor Day, at the Wapato Harvest Festival parade.
Newly arrived from Arizona, I didn’t know many people. He had lived in Wapato for nearly all his life. We came face to face in front of the pastor’s house on the “Ave” where church members and assorted tag-a-longs gathered to watch the parade before heading to the city park for rides, games, and food.
Tall, thin, curly-haired; my impression was of a ‘cool’ guy who couldn’t be bothered to chat with a short, sun-kissed non-native. By his report, he was cool but thought I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
We made slow progress at first. His mom suggested he take me to the homecoming dance. “Nope.” So I went with my cousin from Seattle who was immediately the hottie everybody wanted.
Come spring, our relationship was growing in earnest and we became a couple. At least for a few months. Then I took a year off during our junior year. But like bees to honey, we were back together for senior year.
Off I went to Western Washington University, with the claim that, “If we can survive 4 years apart for college, we can survive anything.” My guy burned the road up between Wapato and Bellingham (4 1/2 hour drive one way), coming to see me every other weekend. Sometimes I traveled back home but then he had to share me with everyone. Back before cell phones and computers (I KNOW! Gasp!) we had a code phone call ring. To avoid the charges of our dorm phone, he would call, let it ring twice, then hang up. That was our good-night check-in. We did talk on the phone, but not much. We spent much of our time writing letters back and forth. Boxes of notes, cards, and creative tomes of love…if I had spent that much time studying…
In June of 1985, we became Mr. and Mrs. This was just a new beginning to our life of adventure, starting right off by driving to So Cal and Disneyland (giving our parents a heart-attack). Our honeymoon was the first of many on-the-road journeys Mr. and Mrs. enjoyed and plan to enjoy.
Two babies, five grandchildren, furry pets, revolving jobs, and numerous trips, houses, and escapades, we are still best friends and more in love each day. Sure there have been struggles and explosive moments, but we’ve stayed committed to each other. It’s wonderful to have a best friend and partner standing beside you on the journey, one who knows all your faults and fears and how you look in the morning (or after childbirth or surgery or the stomach flu) and who still loves you and takes you on dates and hiking in the mountains and on motorcycle rides and finishes your sentences or phrases cloned from favorite movies.
40 years of labor (of a different sort) and here we are today. Best friends, lovers, partners in crime. God knew what He was doing when He hooked us up. And we’ve kept Him busy taking care of us ever since.
I love the simple but hilarious tale of a giraffe who is continuously mistaken for a chair by other jungle animals. He is extremely creative as he tries to educate others about their misdirected assumptions so he can stop being a chair.
Brilliantly colored illustrations add depth and life to the story and will attract young readers as they see life on the wild side (though recognizable as sort of like going to school). Well done, Ross Burach, in story telling through words and images.
This book is great for young and old readers.
KID KANDY
Make a Chair
Materials: whatever you find in your jungle environment
1. Search your jungle.
2. Find interesting items that look comfy and sturdy.
3. Make a chair. Does it look like Giraffe? Or a different jungle animal, like a pillow monster or box creature? Give your chair a name. Have someone take a picture of you sitting on your chair.
Talk to Me Tuesday presents “Living in a Small Community.”
It’s true. The part about the rumor mill running well on schedule.
My honey of 33 married years ran into someone we know today. This person said she just HAD to ask him a question, HAD to know if it was true.
“Is Angie pregnant?”
At first, flabbergasted, my honey thought it was my youngest brother and his wife, since this is true for them. But no, the acquaintance was sure it was me.
Pregnant at 55 (and a half). Now ladies my age, what are the chances that you can get pregnant? I mean there might be a small tiny itsy bitsy chance that you could get pregnant. Minuscule. Having reached the age of hot flashes and the Big “M,” to mention other circumstances, my getting pregnant is impossible (times 3).
When my honey came home and told me he had something to share, this was not even on the horizon. Not an inkling of pregnancy gossip floated through my mind. Lots of other gossip fodder about our personal lives are making the rounds, but preparing for a newborn. Nope. Though I adored being pregnant and having precious babies, this body is retired from fecundity.
Then again, I could say yes and ask for a baby shower. That would be fun! I would ask for gift cards and dark chocolate treats, maybe a very funny game to play.
Seriously people. Judging from personal experiences and everything I’ve ever read about small communities, gossip (true and false) travels from lips to ears in the blink of an eye. If I were one of those tricksy people, I could have lots of fun with this.
Alas. I. Am. Not. Pregnant.
There are plenty of other true things I would rather talk and pray about. Babies needing a new heart, a mother missing for several days, a pastor who committed suicide (depression and anxiety) and left his family behind. And the true not so bad things like back-to-school of the grands and valley students, a new restaurant serving great food, a friend who needs help with a yard sale, or the burgeoning garden which threatens to overtake the RV with tendrils, vines, and butternut squash.
I’d rather spread gossip about good things, like how the Lord has blessed my family, or how gorgeous is His creation, and oh, yes, I can’t wait for the magnificence of fall colors!
A mouth-running-over checklist:
*Is it true?
*Is it kind?
*Will it hurt someone?
*Is the source trustworthy?
*Is is necessary to repeat at all?
*Can I keep my mouth shut?
*Will God be pleased if I share this (or listen to this)?
*What should I do with this information? (Hint: Ignoring it is usually a good choice, unless someone truly needs help.)
Talk to Me Tuesday. Talk about positive topics, uplifting events, good news. Though I have to admit, this is pret-ty funny. AND I truly appreciated the question coming directly to us, instead of being whispered behind our backs. Thank you for asking if this was true!
Talk to you later.
From a small community (non-pregnant) woman.
Not saying I’m perfect AT ALL. This verse is a prayer for my mouth.
“Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!”
-Psalm 141:3
Photo credit: Me, pregnant with our first baby, Taylor. Taken in May 1988.
Nature abounding in the woods and along mountain tops strips away the stresses of the modern world, the work world, the life-filled with garbage. In the woods, I find home. I imagine places I could build shelter or a cozy cabin and projects for harvested pinecones and rocks. I dreamily discover that perfect rock chair so I can just simply sit and listen to the burble of a small stream or the wind whipping through canyons and treetops.
I relax. The fragrances of wilderness, fir trees, clean dirt, evergreens, mountain breezes. They cleanse noise-city-dirty air-vehicle polluted senses and engage my entire sensory system.
My imagination runs wild at times, inspired by pencil-thin bouncing hooves of deer and bunny-tail rumps disappearing under shrubs. What was that noise? Is a bear nibbling berries on the other side of this patch? Will mosquitoes or wasps or ticks invade my body? Is a hungry cougar lounging over the trail, ready to pounce? Should I perhaps be thinking about how I would survive if I became lost? Is the birdsong loud and joyous or absent and ominous?
I am at home. I feel free to dream and imagine and just be. I drink deeply of the mountain air, listen intently to the sounds of God’s creation at its most pure.
It’s been too long without my woodsy home. To the mountains, to the woods, I must return.
This is me with my third horse, Blaze. Royal Blaze.
Actually you can count her as my first horse, since the other two, Sissy and Lady, were more like family horses. Sissy and Blaze were both quite happy to dump me somewhere along the road and run home like horses on fire. And sometimes Blaze ran home to the fancy barn at the neighbor’s house, just for spite.
Maybe I spent more time walking than actually riding, but I did get better at holding on to the reins for dear life, forcing Blaze to stop so I could get back on. Spooking at ANY little thing. Like a rock, or a leaf, or maybe a butterfly. That was Blaze. Sissy just bucked you off and took off running if your heel came within 12 inches of her ticklish flank.
Though, as I think back, some sounds were spook-worthy. Maybe the giant crashing sounds in the shrubs along the road (bear, cow, mountain lion, elk?). Snake in the road? Check. Barking dog. Check. Shadow. Check.
Perhaps I took my life in my hands each time I headed out riding through the forest and range lands, but God looked out for me and kept me safe. Yes, He did.
This photo was taken sometime between 1976-78. I was probably 14 or 15 and we lived out in the middle of NOWHERE in the White Mountains of Arizona. Going to school was a 35 minute (or so) ride to Springerville/Eager on a mini-bus over a mountain pass. Yes! If snow was in the forecast, we got out of school early and headed home before the pass got bad. No sirree, the school did not want to have us spending the night! Going shopping or to work (Dad) was another 30-40 minute drive in the opposite direction to Show Low. Our mailing address was actually in Vernon, about 6 miles away, and our property ran up against fencing for forest land.
Blaze. How much I loved thee, knothead that you were. Mom and Dad bought her for me when she was about 4 months old. You can’t tell from this photo, but she was a roan Appaloosa. When we picked up ‘Fancy’ from the previous owners, she was the cutest thing! Spots were noticeable along her rump, but only if you looked hard. A sparse tail was the only other clue to her breeding. Her daddy’s name was Royal something (this was a LONG time ago, folks) and she had a blaze down her forehead, so Royal Blaze she became.
This horse provided me with hours and hours of adventures and companionship. Every day I’d head outside with our collie, Jody, tell her to get the horse, and whistle. Within minutes, thundering hooves and joyful barks raced towards me from the nearly 8 acre cedar-covered pasture. If if was a good day (for the dog) the three of us would head out for a couple of hours, exploring and playing. If it was really a good day, the dog would find something dead to roll in and stink to high heaven. If it was a bad day for the dog, I would try to sneak outside without her. This never worked, but sometimes I knew other dogs would be an issue, so she had to stay home. These days always crushed our girl.
Some fun things to remember:
-a broken off piece of salt block in my pocket to lick as we went for rides
-making up adventure stories involving cute boys and big events
-freezing my toes and fingers off (not literally) while riding in the deep snow
-cleaning out the horse tank and taking the first drinks of clean water
-climbing, circling, admiring Timber Knoll
-the cool deserted cabin behind Timber Knoll
-dead stuff
-forgetting I had on my dirty old cowboy boots and wearing them to school
-Poky, the cat, riding atop the horse, playing catch with branches trailing along Blaze’s back as we walked through the pasture
-snakes, lizards, tarantulas. Oh, my!
-surviving exit (of me) attempts by the horse brushing as close to the trunks of trees and shrubs as possible, hoping I would come off
We really did have loads of good times together. One just needed to be prepared for her to pull a trick! Good old Blaze!
What’s a favorite memory of adventures you have?
P.S. See the tree on the right side of the photo? That’s the spot the cougar/mountain lion spent the night! In. Our. Front. Yard. The dog was having a fit, but we didn’t let her out.
Thanks to seeds from a friend (Hi, friend!), magic unfolded in my night garden last night!
Moonflower seeds. I will admit I was accepting defeat at the beginning of the growth cycle. Never have I seen a plant grow SO SLLOOWWWW. Chances of actual blooms appeared nonexistent. Then came the heat. The smoke. The long summer days.
And poof! Cigar-shaped flower pods grew amidst the large leaves. BTW, the stems are out-of-this-world interesting to look at and touch. Once the flowers began to poke from the covering, they transformed into green taquitos.
Then came lavender-edged swirls.
which burst open into extravagant balloons!
Old-fashioned rose fragrance, glow-in-the-dark coloring, large, inviting. I wanted to stay awake all night to see which nocturnal pollinators took the bait and visited the deep blossoms.
Marvelous Monday indeed. What wonderful flowers inspire you? Do you know of any other night flowers? I hear moonflowers are perennials plus they offer abundant seeds. Moonflowers, anyone?
Stamping is always a holiday of sorts, taking me away from the regularly scheduled program. Mixed media (stamps, inks, water colors, markers, patterned papers, trinkets, ribbons, glitter glue) form the foundation of creativity.
One other ‘most important’ component of rubber stamping and creating is engaging with a partner. The back and forth bouncing of ideas, materials, and suggestions energizes the joy and productiveness of the hobby.
In addition, two or more crafters mean combined stamps, tools, and resources! In essence, the community of supplies multiplies opportunities for creativity!
Besides, it’s much more enjoyable to chat and solve the world’s problems with a friend while I’m involved in a fun pastime.
I suppose this habit of working with a partner to be applied to nearly every pursuit in life: writing, rearing a family, hiking, building a career, preparing meals, cleaning, going to college, pursuing spiritual growth…
Love, Laughter, and Life 