Beauty for Ashes or Sometimes, that Pony Can Be Hard to Find.

Pin It I had a little epiphany the other morning.

Epiphanies don't look the way they used to.
Image from here.

It came in the midst of a telephone conversation I was having with my dear friend Anne. There was a connection in my life between something gloriously wonderful that had happened to me, and something so far from wonderful it wasn't even in the same county as wonderful, and that conversation brought it to light.

I think it's a story worth telling, and there might be a little something in it for you in the hearing, so, here we go:

This story began back in early August. My husband took me out to dinner to celebrate our  23rd wedding anniversary. We were looking for a restaurant where we could celebrate that event. Because we eat out infrequently due to our finances, we wanted someplace really special. (Did you follow all that? Translation: we have champagne taste, and a malt liquor budget, so, if we're going to blow some bucks, it better be worth it.)

We've been looking for a wonderful restaurant for our very special date nights, in vain, for two years.

See, we used to HAVE the restaurant of our dreams: the place we'd go whenever we could afford a little date night celebration. But it closed. And we have been in mourning for two years, due to the loss of our favorite local restaurant, Zola. Zola, our garden of dining delights. Zola, the only place in town that we had found where we could consistently find a glorious dining experience. Zola was the restaurant owned and operated by my favorite local chef, Deb Paquette. And ever since it closed, we've been wandering through a desert of dining experiences in Nashville.

We read reviews. We do! We tried several restaurants that were receiving positive buzz from the local newspapers and food blogs. But nothing else even came close.

We grieved.

We mourned.

On the night of our anniversary this year, we went to a restaurant that Gwyneth Paltrow had recommended, but were dismally disappointed. In terms of the noise level, the ambiance was like dining al fresco on an airport runway. My ears began to ring when the woman across the room laughed a normal laugh. The food was odd, at best. And the morning after, I had a terrible case of diarrhea.

So bad, in fact, that when my daughter and I stopped at Whole Foods the next day to pick up a few things, I had to seek out the restroom. This took me to a part of the store I had never had occasion to frequent before.

It didn't really look like this.
Image from Icanhascheezburger.com.

On the way there, I saw a rack filled with what looked like it might be a store catalog, so I picked one up. It wasn't. It was a flyer for a cooking school.

Huh. That was interesting.

I had never heard that Whole Foods HAD a cooking school. For once, I didn't throw a grocery store flyer away. For once, I thought I'd take this one home with me and take a closer look at their offerings.

Imagine my joy when I discovered that "Salud!" Cooking School at Whole Foods would be offering a cooking class taught by none other than my favorite local chef, Deb Paquette! What joy was mine! And for a cost of only $36.00. This was a DEAL! Dinner AND a show.

Well, I went on Tuesday night, and I had the time of my life. I'll blog about the particulars soon. I can't wait to share some of what I learned.

But I mentioned that I had had an epiphany, and here it is:

If I hadn't eaten that cr@ppy dinner at that disappointing restaurant and gotten diarrhea, I might never have walked past that rack that had the catalog on it. And I would have missed out on an evening that fed not only my body, but my SPIRIT.

See, I love to cook. Cooking brings me so much joy. It connects me in spiritual ways to my mother. I feel like God blessed me by allowing me to share with her a creative gene that caused both of us to pour love into whatever we cook. It's love that is the secret in my sauce. And she's the one who taught me that. Not with words. But with actions.

And so going to that class, and getting to watch and listen to and learn from and dialog with one of my most favorite chefs was like a master class for me. But it was even more: it was an opportunity to give back to Deb (I hope!) a bit of my appreciation for and joy in her craftsmanship. I was able to pay back, just a bit, a teeny something, for all the joy she has brought to me! And that was worth so very much.

(I'm such a sap: those last two paragraphs got me all teary eyed, just writing them. But that's how deeply I feel about this stuff.)

So, when I was telling Anne that morning about how much FUN I'd had the night before, and how I'd stumbled upon that catalog on my way to the bathroom because my tummy was upset, and she remembered the tie-in to the "bad meal for my anniversary dinner" incident, I was floored.

If I hadn't had that rotten anniversary dinner, I would have missed out on my BIG NIGHT at the cooking school.

It caused me to gasp when I realized the connection. And then I laughed, and then I marveled.

Because that was the very thing I've been thinking about all week long, in light of the fact that my son is wanting to go to college. You see, the very sobering truth is that he will very likely NOT be able to afford to go where he dreams of attending. And I'm so sad about that, because I think it's likely that his heart is going to be broken, (or at least it's going to get badly dinged up) as he watches that dream die.

And watching our dreams die, in general, is a really cr@ppy thing.

Can I get a witness? Anybody else ever watched their own dream die?

And as I was praying about that, the other morning, while my son and his Dad were en route to that college for a visit, the thought that came to me was that I myself had several heartbreaks on my way to college, and following college, before I came to Nashville. I watched several dream-balloons get popped. I was crushed. Heartbroken. Even devastated by one of them. (Haven't we all experienced that, in one form or another?)

But, God.


 In the midst of my heartbreak, there was God. He never left, and He never stopped loving me.

And as it turned out, all those things were used by God to bring about good, that came later. Ultimately, they brought me to Nashville, and allowed me to meet the wonderful man who would become my husband and my best friend.

In the midst of the cr@p, and I assure you I saw no redeeming factors in some of those situations while they were occurring, there was God.

So, in the midst of the rumble-tummy of my post anniversary, there was God, bringing joy, quite literally, out of cr@p. It just took a while before I realized what was in the works.

Are you in the midst of heartbreak? Have you watched a dream die? Have some of your circumstances taken a nose dive?

Very often, out of the greatest pain, comes the greatest joy. But, it can take us a while before we realize what's in the works.

So, I'm asking God for the ability to give thanks, even in the hard stuff. And for the faith to believe that He truly does care about me, and my son, and where my son needs to spend these next few years of his life. Even if it's not the place he dreams of going.

I wish the same encouragement for you, in whatever your circumstances might be.

Yummus Hummus/Yummy Hummy: A Recipe for Hummus.

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Hummus with parsley oil and pine nuts, and whole wheat pita

Hummus is a dip made with chickpeas, and I've got an easy and delicious recipe for you that I've been using for years. I think you're going to LOVE it!

Chickpeas are also known as garbanzo beans.  The two terms are used interchangeably. They are high in protein and fiber, and absolutely delicious: good, and good for you. I love them in hummus, but I also love to serve them roasted, as a snack. To roast them, I simply drizzle them with a bit of olive oil, and sprinkle on some chopped thyme leaves, salt and pepper.  Pop them in the oven on a baking sheet at about 450º, for 20 to 25 minutes. Look for some browning/caramelization, and then, you'll know they're done. If you have any leftover chickpeas from cooking the chickpeas for this recipe, I'd encourage you to try roasting them. It will bring out a wonderful nutty flavor, and you'll have a delicious snack.

 I first tasted hummus in Israel, as an accompaniment to falafel, on a warm, fresh piece of pita bread, and it was love at first bite! I've had this recipe in my recipe notebook since the 1990's, and I generally make it several times a year. It makes a wonderful appetizer, but also goes well as a side dish with many Greek, Turkish, or Middle Eastern dishes.

I've made it with canned garbanzo beans and dried garbanzo beans that I cooked myself, and I prefer the flavor and texture of the ones I've cooked myself. They're cheaper, and taste better with a minimal amount of work. Just follow the package directions on a pound of dried garbanzo beans. If you've never done that before here's the procedure: basically, you have to soak them before you cook them. You can soak them overnight the night before you want to cook them, but I generally use the quick soaking method on the back of the package, which will tell you to boil them for 2 minutes and then leave them to soak for an hour in the water that they boiled in. Once you've soaked them for an hour, you only need to boil them in fresh water for a couple of hours, and then, they're ready to be used.

I got this recipe from Gourmet magazine and the Epicurious website. The parsley oil and the pine nuts are totally optional, but they make for a nice presentation. I serve mine with whole wheat pita bread.

One of the more unusual ingredients in this recipe is tahini, which is actually just ground up sesame seeds. It comes in a jar, and I can find it in the Middle Eastern section of my grocery store. You'll see about an inch of oil that has separated from the bulk of the product at the top of the jar. This is normal. Just stir up the tahini to incorporate the oil that has separated back into it, before you start to measure it.

Hummus needs to be seasoned carefully or it can be bland. In general, if you taste a food and you're not "feeling it" because it seems a little ho-hum, you need to add either salt or an acid (a lemon juice or a vinegar, for example) to liven up the flavor. In the case of hummus, I usually find myself adding more of each, lemon juice and salt, until it tastes "bright" enough for me. So don't be afraid to adjust the seasoning till it suits your taste.

The bright green of the oil comes from being infused with parsley.

Hummus

Ingredients for the hummus:

4 garlic cloves
1 t. salt
4 c. chickpeas
2/3 c. well stirred tahini
1/4 c. lemon juice, or to taste (I almost always use more)
1/4 c. olive oil

Parsley oil:

1/4 c. fresh parsley leaves
1/4 c. olive oil

Toasted pine nuts

Toasted pita triangles
(Pita bread, spread lightly with olive oil, sprinkled with salt and pepper, split and cut into triangles, and roasted at 400º for 5 minutes)

Directions for the hummus:
On a cutting board, mince and mash the garlic to a paste with the salt. In a food processor, purée the chickpeas with the garlic paste, the tahini, the lemon juice, the olive oil, and 1/2 c. water, scraping down the sides, until the hummus is smooth and add salt to taste. Add water, if necessary, to thin the hummus to the desired consistency and transfer the hummus to a bowl.

Directions for the parsley oil: In a blender, purée the remaining 1/4 c. oil with the parsley until the oil is bright green and the parsley is minced.

Drizzle the hummus with the parsley oil, sprinkle with the toasted pine nuts, and serve with pita.





P.S. My friend Notasupermom did a taste test of hummus, and is posting her own recipe for hummus today as well, so go check out her recipe, too, and tell her I sent you! Here's a link to her post.

Have you ever had hummus? Ever made your own?

Slow Cooker Chicken and Dumplings

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Old-Fashioned Chicken and Dumplings

This recipe for old fashioned chicken and dumplings, from the America's Test Kitchen Slow Cooker Revolution cookbook, is really, really, really great!

I grew up on chicken and dumplings, and while they weren't necessarily one of my mom's specialities, they were still pretty dang bueno. A little gummy when it came to the dumplings, perhaps, but delicious nonetheless. 

I've made chicken and dumplings plenty of times now that I have my own family to cook for. It's one of our family's favorite comfort foods, in fact. And it's one of the dishes that I make that EVERYONE likes: no complaints from any quarter. I used to use the recipe from my Southern Living Cookbook, and they were good, but a little drab. Then I found a fantastic recipe by Tyler Florence, and it was AWESOME. Good enough to stay with, and never try another version.

But since I've been trying out the recipes from my America's Test Kitchen Slow Cooker Revolution cookbook, I thought I'd give their recipe for Chicken and Dumplings a whirl, since it required no extraordinary ingredients. I already had everything it called for in the pantry.

Here's what I DIDN'T like, or, at least, found unusual about the recipe:

1. Browning the chicken thighs was spattery. I just made that word up, but I think it's self-explanatory. My dog licked the floor in front of the stove. (Gross, right? Gotta mop there, for sure!) But, really, the spatteriness was a small thing.
2. I found the addition of tomato paste unusual. I know why they did it. It was a depth of flavor idea, to bring out the sweetness of the onions. It added a pale orange cast to the dish, whereas I am used to a white cast to chicken and dumplings, coming from a more cream based/milk based white sauce. It wasn't unpleasant: the flavor was great. But it did strike me as unusual.

Here's what I DID like about the recipe:

1. The dumplings were fantastic. Texture-wise, these were the best dumplings I've ever made: very light, not heavy. 
2. The flavor of the dish was fantastic. I think sherry was a great enhancer for developing flavor in the sauce.  Definitely a "make this one again" recipe.
3. Using boneless, skinless chicken thighs was a great call. Nice tender, juicy meat, and it shredded easily with no muss, no fuss from picking out skin (or the fat that comes with that) or chicken bones.

Here's what I might try doing differently next time: 

1. I might chop up some chives to add to the dumplings. That was something that came from the Tyler Florence recipe that I liked a lot. For me, it would have improved flavor and appearance.
2. If you were really missing a cream sauce appearance, you could omit the tablespoon of tomato paste, and maybe add a half a cup of cream as you are finishing the recipe - and just heat it till it's warm. We're trying not to eat QUITE so much fat around here, so, I would only do this if my husband weren't going to be eating it. The dish already has enough fat. It doesn't NEED the cream.

The only thing that I did differently than the recipe: I used homemade chicken stock that I made earlier this week with some old chicken carcasses that I had in the freezer. My chicken stock is better than what comes in a box from the store, as yours would be, as well. But that's not necessary to do: the boxed stuff is perfectly respectable, and what I would use had I not had any homemade chicken stock on hand.

Tips for making it easier and better: 

1. Since the onions are supposed to be minced, which is a really fine chop, I felt free to use my food processor. So much faster. To avoid making onion mush, pulse your onions in your food processor rather than letting it run. 10 to 12 pulses worked for me. Adjust to what looks right to you with your food processor, but don't let it turn into mush.
2. Use an ice cream scoop to get dumplings that are uniform in size, It made scooping the dumpling batter into the slow cooker super easy.

Old-Fashioned Chicken and Dumplings

Ingredients for Stew

3 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken thighs

salt 

pepper 

3 T. vegetable oil

2 onions, minced

2 celery ribs, sliced 1/4" thick

6 garlic cloves, minced (I used more, because I love garlic)

1 T. tomato paste

2 t. minced fresh thyme, or 1/2 t. dried

1/3 c. all-purpose flour

1/4 c. sherry

4 1/2 c. low sodium chicken broth, plus extra as needed (I used homemade stock)

4 carrots, peeled and sliced 1/4" thick

2 bay leaves

1 c. frozen peas

3 T. freshly minced parsley

Dumplings

2 c. all-purpose flour

1 T. baking powder

1 t. salt

1 c. whole milk (I used 2%, and it worked fine)

3 T. unsalted butter (I used salted; it worked fine)

1. FOR THE STEW: Dry chicken with paper towels and season with salt and pepper. Heat 1 T. oil in a 12" skillet over medium high heat until just smoking. Brown half of chicken lightly on both sides, 5 to 8 minutes; transfer to a bowl. Repeat with 1 T. more oil and remaining chicken; transfer to bowl.
2. Heat remaining tablespoon of oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onions, celery, garlic, tomato paste, and thyme and cook until vegetables are softened and lightly browned, 8 to 10 minutes. Stir in flour and cook for 1 minute. Slowly whisk in sherry, scraping up any browned bits. Whisk in 1 c. broth, smoothing out any lumps; transfer to slow cooker.
3. Stir remaining 3 1/2 c. broth, carrots, and bay leaves into slow cooker. Nestle browned chicken with any accumulated juice into slow cooker. Cover and cook until chicken is tender, 4 to 6 hours on low. (It only took mine 4 hours, so you should check yours.)
4. Transfer chicken to cutting board, let cool slightly, then shred into bite-size pieces. Let stew settle for 5 minutes, then remove fat from surface using large spoon. Discard bay leaves.
5. Stir shredded chicken, peas, and parsley into stew, and season with salt and pepper to taste.  (Adjust stew consistency with additional hot broth as needed.)  Cover and cook on high until simmering.
6. FOR THE DUMPLINGS: Whisk flour, baking powder and salt together in large bowl. Microwave milk and butter together until warm (do not overheat), about 1 minute, then whisk to melt butter. Stir milk mixture into flour mixture until just incorporated and smooth.
7. Drop golf ball-size dumplings (here's where I used my ice cream scoop) on top of simmering stew, leaving about 1/4" between each dumpling (you should have about 18 dumplings). Cover and cook until dumplings have doubled in size, 25 to 35 minutes. Serve.

P.S. What comes to your mind when somebody mentions Chicken and Dumplings?

Off to College???

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Ready to sink or swim? You decide.

My little baby boy went with his Daddy yesterday to look at a college he is thinking he might want to attend next year.

Wow. Mama's had a little wake up call.

As in, I think I've again been caught enjoying another one of my lovely sojourns in the land of DeNile.

This morning I left a comment on someone else's blog who wanted to know about "the best part of my pregnancy", and so I spent a few moments thinking back on those days. And it was pretty easy to do, because I remember it like it was yesterday. Don't you? (assuming, of course, that you ARE a woman who has been pregnant)

I remember how incredibly hungry I was. It was a gnawing, insatiable kind of hunger. Deep calling unto deep. When I was hungry, when I needed food, I needed it THEN. "Outta my way: Hungry woman, comin' through!"

My husband would take me to eat ribs. Ribs from South Street, and chocolate shakes from Rotiers, right after my doctor's appointments in that part of town. And it was never enough. I was hollow. At least, The Parasite inside of me was hollow. And demanding sustenance. I was merely his willing teeth and mouth.


Gosh, it was AWESOME!!!

And then we'd come home, and I'd lie on the bed with my shirt pulled up, and I'd drink the iciest, coldest glass of water that I could manage without inducing brainfreeze, and we'd settle in to watch the show. It was as if my in utero son was wondering who the heck had left the AC running full blast, because it was waking him up from his satiated post-meal slumbers, to COLD FEET. WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE??? And he'd begin wiggling, and kicking, and the shape of an arm, or a leg, or a clearly visible FOOT would dance across the surface of the skin of my huge belly. It was hilarious! It was wonderful! And actually a bit eerie, in a sci-fi kind of way.

And now, that little fellow has not only escaped the warm protection of my womb, but he's looking at escaping the protection of our loving home, and he has the audacity to be actually quite happy about it.

And I'm thinking he's got a heck of a lot of nerve: I carried the little fellow, inside of me, and then out. I wiped his bum, and wiped his tears, and doctored his cuts and his fevers, and cuddled him and snuggled him and read and read and read to him until I quite literally lost my voice (long story for another time, but it's true), and prayed over him, and sang to him, and cooed to him, and delighted in him as he smiled for the first time, and rolled over the first time, and learned how to crawl, and to pull up, and to WALK, and to read, and to drive, and now? Now he's doing THIS? To me?

You know, I'm really NOT one of those women who lived to have a baby, or even craves holding babies. I'm just not. But THIS little guy...THIS little guy was different. THIS little guy was special. I fell in love the first time I looked in his eyes. I was smitten. Gone right round the bend, beyond hope of retrieval. Daft, crazy in love. And he SEEMED to feel the same way!

I love you, forever.

But I've prayed to do this Mothering gig I've been doing, well. And to do it well, you work yourself right out of a job. You launch them straight out of your life. And while I sure as heck don't want him living in my basement when he's 40, doing whatever social networking we have available in 23 years, I still am finding myself quite taken aback by this turn of events, that I've always known was coming.

Pass the box of tissues, please.This morning, anyway, I'm going to wallow for a bit in the: "Darn kid is just going to go off and leave us" sentiment.

A Loving Letter to my Leggy Labrador

Pin It My friend Gary, from Gary's third pottery blog posted a letter he wrote to his cat, Spike, yesterday. It moved me to tears.

Yup. A simple letter to a beloved pet moved me to tears, because I'm sappy that way.

His premise for this writing exercise was asking his readers who they might write a letter to.

 "The celestial rolodex is always open" Gary mentioned in his post, and that's certainly true. We are always free to write letters to anyone we might choose. Historical figures, deceased family members or friends we were close to, as well as people living today: the possibilities are endless. And, we can send them or not. Burn them or publish them or read them to the recipient, should we so choose.

How proudly the Leggy Labrador retrieves the firewood.

After reading Gary's letter to Spike, I decided I wanted to write a letter to my loving, leggy, white chocolate Labrador, Deacon D. Dawg. He's a white chocolate Lab, because we've heard tell that chocolate Labs are the craziest of all the Labs, and we KNEW that just couldn't be true. Or, if it WAS true, that we had either purchased a genetic aberration, or that Deacon must be SOME flavor of chocolate.

Because Freaky Deaky is about as crazy as they come. At least he was, in his salad days. Which, for a carnivore would be more like his prime days. (heh heh...that was a good one!) These days, he's a lot more like an area rug. Or a polar bear rug. Or like having a large beached walrus lying around on your floor. A large beached walrus that RACES his arthritic joints hell-for-leather to the food bowl, three times a day. Three times a day, the Phoenix rises from the ashes, and new life comes to him. We might be the only place in town that could host a thrice-daily resurrection. We should charge money. To the unbelievers.

When Deaky was just 8 weeks old, we went to see him, and his brothers and sisters, with an eye to choosing a great dog for our son to grow up with. What we got, was Deacon. We brought him home, and he proceeded to eat/try to eat every plastic toy in the house, underwear, socks, gloves, tiaras, Play-Doh, used feminine hygiene products, animal feces, and corners of furniture. And then to throw up what he'd ingested, so violently that he'd get to the point that he couldn't get stopped. And then there were those trips to the vet to stop the throw-ups because he was about to die from dehydration. And he continued these behaviors for about three years. It was a long three years.

Moving to the Boonies was quite an adjustment for Deak. No more marinating in the creek in the backyard, no more daily dips that caused his collar to sour to his neck, and that earned him the title: Mr. Stenchy.

Labs love their creeks.

Instead, the Boonies brought frequent encounters with larger wildlife: the deer that we called "Big Dogs", and the turkeys who provided a new hue of fecal material in which to roll.

Deaky Decorated in Turkey Poop

And then...there were the snakes. And the attack by the neighbor's pit bull. That was an awful experience. .Moving to the Boonies brought us to the autumn of my big boy's life: to a more sloth-like season. The mature Labrador cherishes his "down time".

Having lost both my folks, both my parents-in-law, and after almost losing my husband back in May, I am a big believer that it's important to say the things you want to say to your loved ones NOW, while they're still in the land of the living. (Or at least on this planet, anyway.) And even though Deaky Boy can't read, he can still hear the tone of my voice when I tell him how I feel about him. So, today, I think I'll sit myself down and write my Lab a little letter.

Dear Deaky,

You've been a good, good boy.

I remember when you first came to us, all soft and fuzzy and cute and cuddly. You were the puppy that sought me out, and wanted me to snuggle you. I pointed you out to your Boy: you were the little fur ball  with the black collar. Five year old Boy was enchanted, and was convinced that you chose him, and that sealed the deal.

In your time, Deak, you've battled the beaver and the snapping turtle.  And the day you took on the copperhead, and saved The Big Bison's life, you earned Favored Dog Status. And rightfully so.

You still bring the paper, every Saturday and Sunday morning, without fail. You're always so proud, and we're proud of you, and grateful, too. What a good retriever you are! You do your breed credit.

The Delivery Boy Brings You The Verdict

You announce the presence of visitors better, louder, and with more enthusiasm than any door bell ever could. And it's entirely possible that your huge heralding bark has scared off an intruder or two, at some point. We owe you, pal.

Each day, you faithfully accompany your Rock and your Fortress, Daddy, to his studio, and while he composes music, you slumber on, oblivious to the music that peels the paint off the walls around you. Could any musician ask for a more loyal, faithful friend? I think not.

On the studio balcony, The Labrador Keeps Watch.

You eat each meal with joy, and without complaint, even though we all know you'd love some more. For you, the key is always: "Volume! Volume! Volume!" You gobble your glucosamine chondroitin like it's candy. You're a GOOD eater, DeakyBoy. The kids could learn a thing or two from you, when it comes to your gratitude and cheerfulness in regard to their kibble.

 I know your joints must hurt, but you never complain. You wag instead, and pin your ears back for joy whenever we talk to you. It's a beautiful thing to see.

Mr. Happy pins his ears back for joy.

You've earned your senior slumbers, my friend.

Dream sweet bunny-chasing dreams of halcyon days-gone-by, when you could race through fields filled with myriad scents, charging joyfully wherever your nose led you, with no pain in those joints, and only the thrill of the chase in your mind.

I love you, Deak. You're a good, good boy.

Yours forever,


Your Susie-Girl

I love you, too, Susie-Girl.

Got any letters you need to write, my Bloggy Buddies?

World Champion Inappropriate Giggler

Pin It When I was a little girl, I was a World Champion Giggler.

I could giggle with the best of them. I could out-giggle the rest of them. My siblings, who ranged from five to eight years older than me, would start tickling me, until they got me to Def-Con 3 which would usually elicit  my Ultimate Giggle. I'd be giggling along merrily, a bubbly, delightful, childish giggle, and then I'd make this sound.

How to describe it?

It started like a "k" sound, or like I was saying the word "key", unvoiced, but with a sharp expulsion of air. (Try it, now. Hardly anyone will stare at you.) And then I would proceed to make a noise like a car that wouldn't start,  air rushing between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.  With a soupçon of a guttural Yiddish-y/lateral lispy wetness to it. And some wheezing. Kind of like this, (only with lots of squirming and rolling on the floor):

"Kee - hee - hee - hee - hee - hee - hee....."

Come to think of it, I think there was a cartoon character named Precious Pup who used to make a similar sound.



And then my torturer/ticklers would begin laughing. Which got me MORE tickled. And we'd laugh until I couldn't BREATHE.

I have wonderful memories of this. Honest! It wasn't child abuse! Just me getting really, really silly, and then my siblings getting silly, and then all of us, helpless to quit laughing because our insane laughter was just egging each other on.

Fun.

Until the day we went to ....that wedding.

I am not going to name any of the parties involved, because they really do exist, and I would feel AWFUL if I hurt someone's feelings. Of course, I haven't seen any of these people in about thirty years, most of them, but I have one friend from childhood who MAY remember this wedding. (I know both my sisters will. This is one of those family stories that occasionally pops up again through the years.) So Bev, Lynn and Debbie, y'all keep your traps shut, and remember: this story is more about my inappropriate behavior than anyone else's.

My Dad was an educator, but on weekends, he used to preach at a teeny tiny church in the country. We loved that church. We loved the families at that church. They were awfully good to us. One of the best friendships of my childhood was birthed in that church, my friendship with Bev.

So, Dad must have been officiating at this wedding, because somehow or other, I ended up being allowed to sit away from Mom, with Bev. And near my sisters, who, ostensibly, were supposed to keep an eye on me. I think I was about eight years old when this story took place, which would have made my sisters around 13 and 14. Big mistake to let me sit away from my Mom that day, in retrospect. I was probably a bit giddy with that much freedom.

There was this teenage girl from that church who had been asked to be a bridesmaid. As I recall, she may have had a crush on my older brother. As I recall, she may have had a crush on many elder brothers, (if you know what I mean). Bless her heart, she really, really liked guys. But, she didn't have a boyfriend, to my recollection. And she WANTED a boyfriend. She wanted a boy friend in the worst way. She might not even have been picky in regard to WHO might be her boyfriend. If you're familiar with the play "Oklahoma", think Ado Annie: I'm Just A Girl Who Cain't Say No. In fact, for the purposes of this story, let's call her Ado Annie.

So, anyway, the wedding singers were singing the processional, and the wedding party started coming down the aisle. And the groomsmen were walking down the aisle with the bridesmaids. And I turned to see who was coming down the aisle, and there was Ado Annie, DRAPED on top of the groomsman she was clutching for dear life, like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, with her bouquet of flowers smashed up under her chin.

I didn't know anyone could look that much like an octopus while still walking, and to this day, I'm not sure how the poor guy made it up the aisle. I could almost swear she was going to drag him down and pull him under.

I got tickled.

We were sitting on these old wooden pews that creaked and groaned as people shifted on them, and I started shaking with laughter. Hard. And then the pew started rhythmically grunting and squeaking. And my sisters had gotten tickled at the sight of the bridesmaid, and they'd caught sight of me, too, losing it, and could feel the vibrating of the pew underneath us. And then they were dissolving before my eyes in silent convulsions, tears pouring from their eyes. And then, a gentle "kee - hee- hee - hee" began to escape, unbidden, from my lips.

Honestly, I don't know how long it took us to get settled down. Because you KNOW, when you're not SUPPOSED to laugh, that's when it's the funniest of all. Weddings and funerals were my undoing as a Child Champion Giggler.

Oh, my gosh, my Mom would have snapped me up and marched me out of there, if she just could have gotten to me.

But she couldn't. :-D

I don't think she let me sit without her again till I was 13.

She was smart that way.

Where were you when you got in trouble for inappropriate giggling?

New Lightbox Feature

Pin It Click on the photos in my post today, and you'll see an upgrade that Blogger has made to their blogs called Lightbox. It looked like a pretty nice feature for us Blogger folk, from the post I read about it yesterday.

Here's a quote from the post on Blogger Buzz where I learned about this:

"Lightbox is a whole new way to interact with photos. When clicked, images now expand into a shiny new overlay that displays them at their full size for optimal viewing.

Once an image is opened in the lightbox view, any other images from the same post will now appear as thumbnails along the bottom, which can be easily browsed by clicking the arrow keys on the left or right side of the lightbox."


I've included a photo or two that you can click to see what they're talking about:

Infinity's edge: Keswick Hall

Salmon with mango blueberry salsa.

Blueberries with chocolate chip cookie dough (minus the chocolate chips) on top. Yes, I tried this.

Click on a picture and you should be able to see what this feature does. (I try to load most of my pictures extra large these days, but there should be a little box at the bottom as well, where you can click on any of the pictures from this post.)

I'd love to hear if from your vantage point if this seems like a feature you're likely to use. If you're a Blogger blogger yourself (heh heh: that sounds kind of funny), were you aware they'd added this?



P. S. In other Boonie news, I can't seem to figure out how we're going to do everything that's on our schedule for this fall, or even what our schedule IS this fall.

 Dance lessons, visiting colleges (in case that's what our son ends up doing next year), Girl Scouts, play auditions, this week's music biz/song writing workshops for my dear husband, doctor appointments, Bible Study Fellowship and church worship band rehearsals: all these things keep us running in and out of the Boonies, sometimes 3 trips a day. ACK!!!

Oh, yeah, and right in the middle of this, I'm overseeing school, as well.

And registering for blogging conferences and trying to learn to navigate all manner of social media.

Double ACK!

Calgon, take me away...

The Good Works He Prepared In Advance For Us To Do

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A bit of God's Handiwork, captured by the lens of the Big Bison.

Have you had any pivotal moments in your faith life?

A moment where a verse came alive for you in a way that it never had before?

Quite a few years ago, a woman who had been a true spiritual mentor for me needed to step down from her leadership position in a Bible study I was involved in, due to circumstances that had arisen in her family's life. Losing weekly contact with her was a lot like having a nurse take an IV out of my arm - an IV that was weekly providing me with words that were bringing me life, encouragement, inspiration and hope. It was tough, really, really tough to hear that she was leaving us. I could tell, in fact, the second that she started speaking what she was about to say, and it seemed like my breath caught in my throat, and my heart stopped beating in that moment.

Part of me wanted to stand up, grab her shoulders, and cry: "No! No! NO!!!".

Have you ever had a time where somebody was telling you something that you almost could not bear to hear? Because you knew that part of the sweetness that you had enjoyed in your life up to that moment was about to be taken from you? And everything inside of you wanted to beg: "Don't say it! Don't say it!"? As if not saying the words could somehow prevent the loss from happening?

God, who works in all things for the good of those who love Him, was going to use this circumstance in my life to grow me up a bit, and make me more dependent on Him, and less dependent on her, but it still tore me up inside, to lose contact with this dear sister.

So,  I sat there with tears in my eyes and my heart laid wide open as she spoke her farewell to our group. And this is what she said, that has stuck with me, like a theme in my life.

She spoke of her regret at having to leave. She spoke of how through the years, in her position as teacher of that class, that she had felt like she had found one of the works God had prepared in advance for her to do. She spoke of the great joy, the great satisfaction, that she got from teaching that class, because she KNEW that she was exercising the gifts that God had given her. But there was a family member who was dying, and she was a trained nurse, and hadn't God equally equipped her to do THAT very job as well? "For such a time as this", right? And doesn't family always come first? (To my way of thinking: absolutely. It goes without saying.) So with great sadness, she was taking her leave of our group.

For me, the takeaway thought, the pivotal moment, came from this verse, from the book of Ephesians.

Ephesians 2:10
"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

If that is true, then

What are the good works that God has prepared in advance for me to do?


Life is short. All too short.
But I don't want to miss out on doing whatever it is that he has called me to do.

My virtual friend Legume did a lovely post today that kind of touched on that subject. I truly believe from reading her poignant words that she has found a place of peace within herself about the work that she has been prepared to do for this season in her life. And what she is doing, in my opinion, was absolutely perfectly designed for her. She understands her own personality, and knows that her path may be different from the path that others are called to follow, but she is finding contentment and joy in the path that is hers. She is doing the good works that God prepared in advance for her to do.

Sometimes, many times, I feel like I'm just making it up as I go along.

Wouldn't it be nice to get a celestial email note in my inbox from heaven?

Dear Susan in the Boonies,

Today, your job is to write a post on .... Your writing has been a bit superficial lately: might want to increase your time reading my Word. Don't worry: I'll help you write it!
With you, and in you,

The Holy Spirit.

or

Clean the toilet for cryin' out loud, today, wouldja? Remember: I'm with you always - even in the dirty bathroom. Cleanliness really is next to Me.
Yours forever,

Jesus.

or

Don't forget to train your child in taking responsibility for those missed assignments! Helping those kids learn THEIR OWN sense of responsibility is YOUR responsibility. But you can do it! And I'll help!
 Love ya!

 God

Recently, I've had occasion to hear some people voice their disdain for blogging.

(But anyone who really DID feel that way, wouldn't be here right now reading this anyway, right?  :-D )

Yes, it's bothered me. And, in many cases, I think they're right. There is lots and lots of junk that you can easily find on blogs. And it's also possible that what I'm doing here falls into the category of junk.

But all I know, at this point, is that very often, when I do this, this writing thing, in the words of Eric Liddell from "Chariots of Fire",  "I feel His pleasure".

So, to do the good works that  God has prepared in advance for ME to do, all I really know to do at this point is:

#1) Pray and try to discern what I think the good works are that He has prepared in advance for me to do.

and

#2) Do the next thing.

If I figure out anything else for certain, I'll alert the media.

Thanks for taking your valuable time to read this.

I wonder if you ever think about the good works that God has prepared in advance for you to do. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Pardon Me. Is That Seat Taken?

Pin It Yesterday, I read a good blog post entitled, The Best Time I Didn't Sit Next to Harrison Ford. The premise of the article was that the author, who lives in Malibu, had arrived early to a play to see a friend's son perform, and had saved several seats for her friends. I'm familiar with the mentality in regard to fame in Malibu, because we have the same thing going on here in Nashville in regard to the music industry.

Former YMCA Doorman
Picture from here.

Yes, Vince Gill once smiled into my eyes as he held the door open for me at the YMCA (and I nearly left a puddle in the floor. Oh, my, GOSH! Those EYELASHES!!!). Yes, a long time ago, before her demise, Minnie Pearl was seated at the table next to mine at Dalt's Grill. Yes, that was Clint Black who chatted me up at the old Wild Oats market (which is now a Trader Joe's), while I waited for bulk Wildflower Honey to drizzle into my jar, and he ground almonds into almond butter, and Lisa Hartman Black yelled over her shoulder, "I'll be at the eggs, honey!". These types of things happen in Nashville.  and Nashvillians have an unspoken, unwritten policy of being polite enough to be cool, and mind their own business around celebrities. It's the right thing to do. And apparently, in Malibu, they feel the same.

So, as the story I linked to progresses, the author mentions her deep and abiding adoration of Harrison Ford. And I'm sure many of us can understand her admiration of him. Lo and behold, it turns out that unbeknownst to the author, Harrison Ford's daughter has a role in that same play, and thus, it turns out that the author sees Han Solo enter the theater,  where the author is seated, having saved several seats for her friends. He approaches her, gestures at the seats where she has placed her jacket, and asks if those seats are taken. She hesitates, but replies that they are, thus, remaining loyal to her friends.

"Pardon me. Is that seat taken?"
Picture from here.

(Her friends arrive later, and ask her "What? Are you CRAZY???" They tell her they think she was being ridiculous for not giving up a seat.)

But the story got me thinking about two things:

The first thought is practically parenthetical to the issue I really want to talk about, but: how obnoxious is it to go to a venue where seating is not assigned, and discover row after row of saved seats? And just so you know: I have been the one who saved the seats, as well as the one who got irritated at the ones saving the seats, so I really do see both sides of this issue. I've been the victim, and the perpetrator. So, I'm really NOT being all high and mighty here. But it IS kind of obnoxious to be the one who can't be seated, don't you think?

And, second, and what I really want to talk about: I THINK I would have done the same thing as the author. I THINK I would have remained true to my friends for whom I was saving the seats, and treated Harrison Ford as "just another person".

But...

Does every one of us have a price?

Is there ONE person for whom you would DEFINITELY throw over your friends, and offer that famous person the seat you had saved for someone else?

OK, and no fair picking "Jesus".

Because anyone with half a brain knows you really BETTER suck up to Him. (On the other hand, wouldn't He consider it a breach of ethics to throw over your friend for someone that you don't know, but whom you consider to be more important or desirable to be with? TRICKY!!!)

(Or, is saving a seat for ANYONE  not a matter of saying to the one asking for the seat: "This person, for whom I am saving the seat, is more to be preferred/more important than you are".  So, in fact, is saving a seat, at its core, an unloving act?)

I'm getting way too philosophical here, aren't I, when all I really wanted to ask you was THIS:

For whom would you throw your friend under the bus? :-D

That doesn't sound good, does it?

Let me word it differently.

Imagine you've gone to a play to see one of your kids, or someone dear to you. Imagine you've saved seats on either side of you.

For what person (other than Jesus!) would you give one of those seats away?
It can be an actor, or a world figure of any sort. Alive OR dead? Oh, heck, why not. (Although, personally, I think sitting through a play next to a corpse wouldn't be much fun...it'd be kinda dead...)

Who could cause YOU to cave on saving that seat?

And if NO ONE could cause you to cave, please defend your position.

Let's talk! I can't wait to read your comments!

Awesome Apple Pie Recipe and the Winner of the Pie Crust Showdown

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It's almost fall: people are picking apples, and dreaming of crisp, chilly mornings with bright blue skies, and the golds, reds and oranges of autumnal foliage.


 Or else, if you're like me, you are, just like any other time of year, thinking of pie.

Hello, lover.

You name the season, I'll name you a pie to long for. Strawberry in the spring, blueberry in the early summer, peach when the summer is ripe, apple as summer begins to wind down, and fall approaches,  pumpkin for late fall, and pecan for winter.


 I ask you, when is it NOT time for pie???


Yesterday, I told you about my pie-crust showdown, and I promised you that the following day, I'd provide you with the recipes. Well, I aim to always keep my promises, so, today, I'm making good on them.


Both of the recipes, for the pie and the pastry, were adapted from a cookbook that is a bit dated, with a copyright date of 1987, but while it may be an oldie, it's a goodie: The Southern Living Cookbook. This one is an earlier edition  than the gold one listed in my sidebar. This one has a brown cover, and appears to be hard enough to find that the price has gone up considerably. The recipe for the pie filling is called Country Apple Pie, and really I can only think of one significant alteration that I've made to their recipe. Instead of "ground nutmeg" which is what the original recipe called for, the recipe that I'm sharing with you today calls for freshly ground nutmeg.


 I've said this before, probably in my Peach Pie recipe, but it bears repeating: there is a WORLD of difference between the already ground nutmeg that you buy in a can or jar in the supermarket, and buying a whole nutmeg and grating it yourself. I used to hate nutmeg, or so I thought. And then, I tried grating my own, with a whole nutmeg that my sister brought to me from one of her Caribbean vacations. Man, oh, man! The flavor: she sings! Here's the tool I use for the job, but there are actual "nutmeg graters" that are out there, so you don't have to use what I use. (It's a Microplane Grater, and I use it to zest limes and lemons, grate chocolate and nutmeg, and most often to grate Parmesan cheese. It is absolutely indispensable in my kitchen. I probably use it 5 or 6 times a week, at least.) You just need a fine rasp to scrape teeny bits off the side.  When I've grated what I need, I put the nutmeg back in a plastic baggy till the next time I need some freshly grated nutmeg. No muss, no fuss. And they last forever.


The other note that I'd give you for this recipe is that I prefer to use Granny Smith apples. Some cooks like the flavor of Golden Delicious variety, but I've tried both, and I find the Golden Delicious to be too sweet, and too mooshy. I like the tartness and the firmness of the Granny Smith.


I also use one of these gizmos, an apple peeler/corer/slicer which saves me SO MUCH TIME! (They're also pretty entertaining for the kids to watch!) I bought mine probably 20 or so years ago from the Vermont Country Store, and it was one of my smarter purchases. It's kept my family in apple pie, year after year.


The lemon juice in the recipe gets sprinkled on the apples to keep them from turning brown. The Vitamin C in the lemon juice prevents oxidization, so after you've cut the apples, be sure to sprinkle them fairly soon afterward with the lemon juice.


Again, if you're feeling like you'd like to brush up on your pie crust making skills, here's a link to a pie crust tutorial I did over on The Fun Girls. That SHOULD answer any questions you may have. On the other hand, feel free to ask me any pie or pie pastry question that you might have in the comments section.


Country Apple Pie


Pastry for double-crust 9" pie 
(The recipe for the WINNER of the Pie Crust Recipe Showdown follows)


6 c. peeled, sliced cooking apples
1 T. lemon juice
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
2 T. flour
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. freshly ground nutmeg
2 T. butter




Double-Crust Pastry

2 c. all purpose flour
1 t. salt
2/3 c. plus 2 T. shortening (I use those sticks from Crisco - no mess measuring!)
4 to 5 T. cold water (I use ICE water - and sometimes I only need 3 T. water, especially if it's humid.)  


 1T. half and half 
 1 T. sugar
Combine flour and salt; cut in shortening with pastry blender (use two forks if you don't have a pastry blender) until mixture resembles coarse meal. (Alternatively, you can pulse this in a food processor, but don't overwork it!) Sprinkle cold water (1 T. at a time) evenly over surface; stir with a fork until dry ingredients are moistened. Shape into two discs and wrap each in plastic wrap. Chill for at least 1 hour. Roll out one of the discs into an 11" circle, between two sheets of lightly floured parchment paper. Place in a 9" pie plate; set aside.


 Place the apples in a large mixing bowl, and sprinkle with lemon juice. In a medium sized mixing bowl, combine the sugars, flour and the spices, mixing well. Spoon over apple mixture, tossing gently. Spoon filling evenly into pastry shell, and dot with butter.

Roll remaining pastry into another 11" circle, and transfer to top of pie. Trim off excess pastry along edges. Fold edges under and flute. Brush top of pastry with a bit of cream or half and half, and then sprinkle lightly with 1 T. sugar. Cut slits in top crust for steam to escape. Bake at 450º for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350º, and bake an additional 35 minutes. 

So simple, so basic, and so, so exquisite.

So, if not pie, what dessert are you looking forward to making soon?

(P.S. Don't forget the new "Print Friendly" button I installed at the bottom of each post, in case you'd like to print out the recipe.)

A Pie Crust Showdown

Pin It Back in May, over on the Fun Girls, I did a pie crust tutorial, to help my readers make a perfect piecrust, when making a homemade pie. I put a lot of work into it, too. I was pretty proud of that post.

Well, lo and behold, the Pioneer Woman must have seen it, and just couldn't bear to be outshone. (Insert huge eye rolling smilie/emoticon here.) She invited a pie expert to her ranch, a lovely and really smart lady named Pam, who conducted a workshop on pie making. She even flew in people in from all over the country, just so they could learn from Pam how to make the perfect pie crust. The Pee Dub's tutorial was awesome, I must admit. Photography wise, she put my little effort to shame.

But, I had to wonder: what about TASTE??? Could hers be better than mine? If it was, I wanted to switch recipes! I am not a big enough fool to cling to the old if there's something better out there.

The Pioneer Woman even did a taste test, with 4 different pie crusts, and they determined that Pam's recipe for pie crust was the best. So...it was sounding like my own recipe had some stiff competition.

Had the Pioneer Woman done whooped my ....um... recipe?

I determined that I MUST do a little pie crust recipe showdown of my own.

To conduct this test, I used my awesome circa 1980's Southern Living cookbook recipe for Country Apple Pie.

So...ladies and gentlemen, behold, the contestants.

In this corner, we have a Country Apple pie made with the Southern Living Cookbook's recipe for a Double Crust Pastry.

Crust made from Southern Living pie crust recipe.

In this corner, we have the Country Apple Pie made with the pie crust recipe found at The Pioneer Woman's website.

Made with the butter/leaf lard recipe from The Pioneer Woman.

My family members, independently of each other, reached a unanimous conclusion: while both pies WERE delicious, each of us preferred the same pie crust.

Would you like, perhaps, to know WHO won? :-D

My husband announced the winner himself, last night, on facebook.

In his words...

"And the winner is.....

"ME!!!! I got two apple pies in my house!!!"

(He's a funny guy, that Big Bison.)

No, seriously, we each chose MY RECIPE! 

Ta daaaa!

Was it only because we preferred the familiar, we asked ourselves?

We don't think so.

We found The Pioneer Woman's crust to be heavier. It coated the tongue a bit more, which really isn't surprising, since it does have a higher fat-to-flour ratio, than the recipe I normally use.

It also tasted more like...well...a cookie.

Which, again, shouldn't be surprising, since it is very similar to a shortbread.

Now, God only knows, I love me some shortbread. I am inordinately fond of shortbread. Mammy's Little Baby loves shortnin' bread. (Sorry. Couldn't resist.) I use homemade shortbread cookies to make the crust for my famous blueberry cheesecake. (I swear, I'm gaining weight just talking about all this fat and fattening stuff.)

But shortbread is crumbly, and the Pioneer Woman's pie crust seemed more crumbly to me. Whereas (and in my opinion, this is another plus for MY pie crust recipe) using shortening (rather than butter) produces a flakier crust.

So....there you have it!

Now, what debts of gratitude do I owe The Pioneer Woman for this little showdown? I found two things I really liked about her recipe, that I think I'll be incorporating into my technique in the future.

First, in trying her recipe, which I attempted to follow exactly, I learned a new technique for rolling out dough which I found ever so helpful. I've been rolling out my dough for years on waxed paper, which works fine, but she suggested using parchment paper on the top and on the bottom, and wow! Did that ever make the dough rolling out process easier! I didn't have to add more flour on top of the crust (so the pastry fat/flour ratio didn't get changed. So that worked great, and I'll be doing that again. Parchment on the bottom, lay dough disc on, parchment on the top. rolling pin on top of that, roll from the center out, and keep rotating the entire lot, the parchment paper itself, to help you form a perfect circle! Every few strokes, pick up the paper (so it doesn't become too stuck to the pastry) and re-place it back on the dough disc. Then flip the dough/parchment sheets over, pick up the parchment sheet that's on top, re-place it,  and continue the rolling out from the center process.

The other thing that really worked well for me about her recipe was that she suggested making the dough itself in the food processor. I've tried that before with abysmal results, but after reading her recipe carefully,  I think I know why I goofed that up the last time I tried it, and so this time, I was able to correct my former mistake, and use the food processor method successfully. The time I goofed up making my pie pastry in the food processor, I ran the processor, rather than just pulsing it (until I had the lumps of fat just the size I wanted them). You want the texture of the pastry  to look like little pebbles. When you run the processor too long, and the fat starts to melt and the glob of dough gets mooshy and soggy, which nobody wants. So, I think I might use the processor (rather than using my hand held pastry cutter) in the future on pie crusts, because it is faster on the front end. I would think this would really help me at Thanksgiving, when I'm making multiple pies. The only down side with using a food processor is that you end up with more dishes to wash, which adds a bit more time on the tail end of the process, which is kind of a downer.

Here's one thing I didn't like about her recipe: finding leaf lard was a CHORE. Here in the South, it's not too hard to find lard in the grocery store, but that kind of lard has been hydrogenated, and tends to sit on the shelf for a while and go rancid, which, of course, is a bad thing. Leaf lard is fat that has been rendered from the kidney of a pig. (Kinda gross, right? I KNOW!!!) But The Pioneer Woman's friend Pam, who ran the Pie Workshop, was very specific that it MUST be leaf lard. So, first, I had to do a Google Search, to find out what the heck leaf lard was and where I could possibly find it locally.  Then, I had to contact a local farm that produces organically fed meat to order a chunk of leaf lard, and then, I had to drop by the Farmer's Market in Nashville to pick up my order. Big hassle. And now, I have a huge WAD O'FAT sitting in my fridge with no use for it. I guess I'll cut it up in smaller chunks and freeze it, and use it if I ever fry chicken again (which just made my husband's cardiologist SHIVER!!!). (Did he shiver from horror? Or with greedy delight at the approaching income he senses coming his way? Who can say?)

I'll give you the Awesome Apple Pie recipe tomorrow.  And the recipe for pie crust that was The Big Winner.

Pie is the new cupcake or macaroon of desserts, so they say.
What say you? Are you pie pastry phobic? Pie-impaired? Are you a pie-o-phile?

Another Success Story for The Human Cloning Project

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My son, the guitar player.

Me, 32 years ago. (Some of you are not even that OLD yet!)

My son is on the right. I am not the mother of Justin Vernon.

A friend of mine posted that old picture of me on Facebook last night, and while looking at myself,  I saw my SON.

 In drag. 

Sort of.

Geez, Louise.

Poor kid. 

He never stood a chance.

Just another success story for the Human Cloning Project.