delight day

I fear the holiday business is now upon us. Don't get too busy to savor. Savoring is the state of mind that I like to live in it. It's funny how nearly croaking in a terrible car accident two years ago has developed my savoring skills. I mean, I used to be a pretty nervous individual, but now I'm mostly thankful. Don't get me wrong. I still freak out now and again, but since the accident,  my default has shifted from worried to delight. Fresh scents, sunlight sifting through leaves, the funny way my dog rests her head on my book as she sleeps, a cup of English tea in the afternoon: these  are my life. The big things are out there somewhere, but the real living is in the small things taken one at a time. I am glad I get to be here this moment. It might have been different. This morning, I found these delightful things around the house:

freshly laundered shirts hanging up to dry,

the little Pine tree I got two Christmases ago at Home Depot, and my Asparagus fern,

a freshly picked Florida lemon,

a holiday candle filling the house with cheer. Try not to rush. Look around. What can you find to take delight in?

I heart Florida

I heart Florida. I heart everything about it, from the houses,

to the plants,

to the swampy goodness and pathways,

to the citrus fruits and the adorable people, like this little firecracker I've been busy visiting. She makes a mean potato salad. And, if you think you can beat her in Bridge, you are quite mistaken, Missy. Life is short. Enjoy your days. Enjoy the sunshine. Enjoy the blue skies. Enjoy your people.

the mandel bread recipe, which is like biscotti

So, apparently I learned nothing from yesterday's post. Today I took twenty eight shots of a bowl of walnuts. Not The Queen of England, people, a stinkin' bowl of walnuts. Whatever. I try. I am neurotic. What can I say? But, hey, how about that sweet walnut picture?

Tomorrow, Quiet Guy and I are traveling to my mother-in-law's for the big feast. Her name is Jane, but for thirty-some years I've been calling her Janie Sue. No, Sue is not her middle name, but it suits her. She is a peach. Anyhow, our going there tomorrow can only mean one thing. Today I've been making mandel bread, of course. Every time any kind of family gathering occurs, I am automatically signed up to bring the mandel bread. No, we are not Jewish. Yes, we appreciate good food.

Some might ask what is the difference between mandel bread and biscotti. Is it mere semantics? Some would argue, yes. However, I have it on good authority that biscotti generally calls for butter, whereas mandel bread uses oil. Potatoes, pa-taught-oes. Here's the point... this stuff is delish. But I digress. Here's the story of my mandel-bread-for every-family-get-together tradition.

Twenty years ago, I lived in St. Louis and had a boss named Bev. Bev was a great boss: smart, funny, logical, kind, and hard-working. Seriously, if every boss could be like Bev, this world would be a happy place. Bev was a Jewish girl from New Jersey. She knew  her way around a kitchen. One holiday season, she brought in some precious little slices of heaven for us all to enjoy: mandel bread. I immediately demanded the recipe. It was an old family recipe from her grandmother. She graciously gave it over the next day. What a sweetie. That Christmas, we traveled to Janie Sue's for the holiday. I brought the mandel bread. I have brought the mandel bread every visit since by popular demand. It is that good. 

Grasshopper, here is the treasured recipe for you to enjoy. I am revealing the secret here and now. That is how much I care about you.

Bev's Grandma's Mandel Bread

3 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (I use walnuts, and I add an extra 1/3 cup or so.)

Beat eggs well. Add sugar, oil, and vanilla. Beat.

In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Blend the nuts into this mixture. Combine it with the wet ingredients. 

Grease and flour baking sheet. (I like to use a heavy-duty extra large sheet.) Spoon mixture in 2 or 3 rows. It will be sticky.

Bake at 350 degrees 35 minutes. Remove from oven and cool completely, at least two hours. Slice diagonally with a good serrated knife into about 1/4 inch slices. Make sure there is air on both sides of slice on the sheet. Bake at 300 degrees for another 30 minutes. Let cool. Enjoy!

so many jalopies...

I am learning so much from Agnes, my camera. I am learning so much from my photography teacher Vernetta. Yesterday, my class had a field trip. We went to the CTC Auto Ranch in Denton Texas to take pictures of the cars.

This is not a fancy car lot. This is a gritty old field littered with wrecks and such. Needless to say, I loved it; I am never in my element so much as when I'm wallering around in old junk. 

It was a power shoot, testing both Anges' and my strength and fortitude. Four hours and 1,356 photographs after we got there, we left. Our memory card was full. Oh, oh, oh so many rusted-out jalopies to claim in our photographic treasure trove. As I sort through the takes, it occurs to me that I really don't need to take twelve to fifteen shots of each scene.

If I see a cool truck, I somehow feel the need to shoot it from every angle and under every white balance and exposure variation to ensure that I get the perfect shot. 

This is like my childhood. I was never a chance taker. I started working in sixth grade, and dang it, I was keeping my babysitting job. It was two days a week while the parents worked. I had to make dinner. We played games. We roamed the neighborhood looking for adventure. The two boys were not much younger than me, but I paid attention every second and made sure they had fun and I had an income. 

Growing up, we constantly moved and I worked really hard in each new school to make new friends. I talked to everybody like a manic dork in case something turned up. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't. Once, I was popular, but that didn't last long; we soon moved again and there I was again, the new kid trying for the perfect blend-in.

At a certain point, you begin to realize that perfect is jacked up, as Vernetta would say. All this bet hedging gets to be a burden when you have to sort through a billion shots to get to the gold you saw in the first place. Almost always, the best shot is the first one. 

So, what I learned yesterday is to trust my gut. I am awesome. Okay, maybe I'll still do a little hedging. And maybe I still haven't reached the obnoxious level of confidence I aspire to, but I am one baby-step closer. Doing is learning. See a shot, capture the shot, move on. That is my new motto. You?

camping? seriously?

On Friday, Quiet Guy and I headed out to Tyler State Park here in Texas to camp with some buddies. The fall leaves were beautiful. The temperatures, not so much. It got down to 35 degrees the first night - too cold for my thin blood. Even with Jamie the wonder dog inside my sleeping bag with me, I froze. We came home after one night instead of two. What can I say? I am wimpy. Despite the cold, it was gloriously lovely. Granted, my warm bed, once I got home to it, was even lovelier  and I will never take it for granted again, but here's what I loved about our adventure:

Sunshine, water, logs, trees,

berries, yellow,

umber,

friends,

treeline,

pine cones, burnt orange,

blue skies. Thank you, Lord, for this ravishing earth, sky and air to breathe. Amen.

old, but still useful

Last Friday, I stopped at an estate sale and bought a bag of vintage fabric scraps for a buck fifty. 

Looking at these pieces makes me happy. 

They are worn, many obviously, from the shape they were cut in, the remnants of long forgotten outfits. 

I like to think that even old things have luster all their own and can still be of use. 

What was she saving these for? A quilt, perhaps? 

They would make a beautiful collage. Just think of all the possibilities.