My first kiss . . .

Source: Uploaded by user via Melissa on Pinterest

Topd and I watched an old movie the other night called "My Girl." It's a sweet and tender movie about a young girl's coming of age, a time of first crushes, big changes and first kisses. It's really quite a delightful, touching and entertaining film.  It made me think of my own childhood . . . and first kisses.

Ahh . . . the first kiss . . . that is a moment most girls remember with great tenderness . . . but I was having a hard time remembering it. You would think that such an important moment in time would have forever etched itself in the annals of my mind . . . a mind that is quite capable of remembering such things as "what I had for breakfast on the 4th of July in nineteen sixty two and 'exactly' what I was wearing at the time!" Not so with my first kiss . . . I can't remember it a bit . . . well . . . hardly a bit . . . perhaps it's something I don't want to remember? Perhaps it's quite forgettable?

Oh heck, who am I kidding . . . of course I remember it!!!! I have a memory like a steel trap! It was Lennie Risser, what a kisser! (and I was wearing blue jeans and a white polo shirt!)

Source: Uploaded by user via Maddie on Pinterest

My whole fifteenth year of life was spent in preparation for the day when I would finally be allowed to date and have a boyfriend. Certain "looks" were practiced in front of the mirror . . . you know the ones I mean . . . coy, demure, sirenic, surprised, dreamy . . . I didn't want to get caught out by giving the wrong look at the wrong moment, when and if the time ever came.
 
Kissing was practiced on the back of my hand, as per an article I had read in "Sixteen" magazine. That was a great magazine . . . not only did it keep you "up to date" on all the goings on of all the latest teeny bopper pop idols (David Cassidy, Donnie Osmond . . . sigh . . . ) but it was full of great advice on things like "latest fashion trends", "how to fix your hair", "makeup application" and . . . most important of all, "Boys" and how to manipulate . . . um . . . err . . . I mean handle them!! Some of my friends had boyfriends already, but I had not yet experienced anything other than huge crushes on unattainable boys in the higher grades . . . safe and unrequited love affairs from afar . . .

Source: Uploaded by user via Kelley on Pinterest

Some of my friends used to spend summers out at a nearby lake at cottages . . . a place called Lake Pleasant. There was a small town close by called Springfield, and a whole host of boys from Springfield used to hover around like bees to honey every summer, just waiting to hone in on the "fresh" crop of girls, just in from the city. It was win/win all round.   My friends got to play dating with a bunch of boys, and they got to play dating with my friends.  My parents didn't have enough money to have a cottage, or even rent a cottage, so this one pleasure I was denied.   However one lat summer weekend, after all the cottages had pretty much closed down for the summer, those Springfield boys actually came up in a car to visit the girls.   I got to be included by default, and it wasn't long before we all gathered at a friends house  (whose parents weren't home) to chat and hang out together. Inevitably it was decided that we would play "Spin the Bottle." My very first chance to play the game I had often read about!

Source: bing.com via Eileen on Pinterest

We sat in a circle, on my friend's family room carpet . . . giggling girls on one side . . . pimply faced youths on the other . . . a myriad of questions going through my mind . . . the palms of my hands sweating in anticipation. Was my breath ok? Should I close my eyes? What should I do with my hands? What if the bottle landed on another girl? Should I lean to the left or to the right?

My palms got sweatier and my giggles a little more nervous and excited as the bottle made it's way around the circle towards me. One after another, I watched my friends kissing the boys, in turn . . . taking mental notes all the while, so that when the bottle finally landed either on me or in my hands, I would know exactly what to do.

Source: Uploaded by user via Shari on Pinterest

Thankfully it never landed on me  . . . and so I had had plenty of time to prepare myself when finally it was my turn to spin it. I took the bottle in my nervous fingers and gave it a spin . . . a rotation of glinting glass that seemed to take forever to slow down and stop . . . and stop it finally did . . . on the only boy in the room with buck teeth . . . dangit! Just my luck!!!! All I can remember is his teeth sticking into my lips as he pressed his mouth against mine and the embarassment of knowing everyone else was watching us. This was hardly how I had anticipated it would be! Where was the tender moment??? The romantic music washing over us in a rising crescendo???? Would my lips be bleeding when he was finished???? Ohhh . . . the agony . . . Ohhhh . . . the pain . . . Ohhh . . . the embarassment . . . How more unlike Romeo and Juliet could things get???

That was only the first, in a long line of "first" kisses with various boys at one time or another, before I finally settled down with one boy in one steady relationship. Each kiss being and feeling more special than the last. How could I have known on that warm, summer evening of my almost 16th year, that this was only the beginning of a long . . . sometimes wonderful and sometimes painful lifetime of experience in dealing with members of the opposite sex.

Source: myndishafer.wordpress.com via Myndi on Pinterest

Yes, I've kissed a lot of frogs through the many years since . . . and yes, I've kissed a few princes, all unforgettable, all special in their own way . . . even the frogs . . . but, I will always remember, with a certain fondness, that warm summer night and the soft lips of Lennie Risser combined with his hard teeth pressing against mine. I wonder . . . did he know he was my first???

P.S. It's not the first kiss that really counts . . . it's the last!

Yesterdays Silver Lining:  the temperatures got quite mild and the snow all melted, and the sun shone the whole day through.  It brought everyone out and about and all were in a great mood.   Long conversations with my sister on the computer.   That was another enjoyable pleasure.   I love my sister.  She's the best.

A thought to carry with you through the day:

To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.   This is to have suceeded.
~Ralph Waldo Emmerson


Here's a little treat this morning that is dead easy and as soft as a first kiss . . .
and just as unforgettable . . .


  


*Eaton Mess*
Serves 4
Printable Recipe

I am not sure where this dessert comes from. I highly suspect Eaton College. It’s the perfect thing to make when all you have to hand is a bunch of rag tag store bought meringues looking a bit worse for the wear. A punnet of raspberries and some double cream and you have a light dessert, food fit for the gods…

½ of a 96g packet of meringue nests (about 4)
½ pint of double cream
1 punnet fresh raspberries (about 2 cups) gently washed and dried

Break the meringues into bite sized pieces and place in a large bowl. Whip the cream with a whisk until it falls in soft peaks. You don’t want it really stiff for this. Fold the cream into the meringues along with the raspberries, taking care not to break up the raspberries too much. Transfer to the fridge and chill for 30 minutes before serving. You can also stir some raspberry coulis into this, or drizzle it over the top. (Very easily made by whirring one cup of raspberries in a mini food processor with a touch of sugar, and then passing the results through a sieve to remove the seeds)

 

And, cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . Easy Cinnamon Puffs!

Choices, choices!!


 

Touch the hem of His garment . . .

I was thinking this morning . . . and we all know what happens then, lol. I usually come up with something that's profound, if only in my own mind! I had this conversation with a friend the other day. She was really struggling with her faith and questioning why the Saviour felt so far away from her. I think we all feel like that from time to time . . . tis only natural.

It does seem that sometimes, just when we feel like we need Him the most . . . we can feel very far away from Him . . . alone, hurt, forgotten, trampled upon by what may seem like a myriad of problems . . . perhaps we have even given up on ever feeling close to him again. We may even feel dirty and unfit . . . covered with the dust of the world, which robs us of our courage and weakens our face. I know we've all been there.



So anyways, I was thinking about this . . . and then the story of the woman who reached out through a mob to touch just the hem of Christ's garment came into my mind. You know the one where Christ is walking through a whole crowd of people and he feels like someone has touched his clothes and he stops walking and asks, "Who is it that touched me?" She had been suffering with an issue of blood for years . . . and there may have been something inside her that wanted to think he had passed her by, or forgotton her, or even turned his back on her . . . but then her faith inspired her to reach out, even if she didn't feel particularly close to Him at that moment . . . even if she couldn't look Him in the eye and talk to him face to face . . . she knew that He still knew that she was there . . . and so she reached out through the crowd of people, knowing and believing that . . . If only I touch His cloak . . . I will be healed.

And she did . . . and she was.



How simple was her faith . . . how great . . . how inspiring. I am so very grateful for her example which even now . . . some two thousand years later . . . is able to touch my heart and teach me that it is faith, simple faith . . . that can get us through anything. No matter how far away from the Saviour that we may feel, or how unimportant we may feel. He is always there, just waiting for us to touch the hem of His garment . . .

I am very late posting this morning. I didn't even get out of bed until half past seven. That horrible cough has come back and I was coughing way into the night before I finally fell asleep. It's so draining . . . I think I will have to go back to the Doctor yet again . . .

We had the missionaries over for supper last night. I didn't cook anything too spectacular, just meat pies, mash, carrots, spring greens, gravy, rolls and then of course I served dessert. Butterscotch Pudding. Pudding in North America has a completely different meaning than pudding over here in England. Here the term is used to describe any variety of desserts . . . some stodgy, other's not, all delicious. Back home in canada it is a term used to describe a thick and milky cooked custard type of affair and comes in many delicious flavours, one of my favourites being . . .



*Butterscotch Pudding*
Serves 4
Printable Recipe

If you were to ask people which flavour of pudding is their most favourite they would probably say chocolate, but my personal favourite is the delicious, sweet and slightly salty flavour of butterscotch. Some people like their pudding ice cold, but I like mine slightly warm. Now that my friends is comfort food, pure and simple . . .

3/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed
2 TBS cornstarch
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups milk
1 large egg
1 TBS white sugar
2 TBS butter
1 tsp pure vanilla

Combine the brown sugar, cornstarch and salt in a heavy saucepan. Gradually stir in the milk. (any lumps should smooth out as the mixture cooks so don't worry about them)

Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture comes to a boil. Remove from the heat.

Beat the egg with the tablespoon of white sugar until light. Gradually stir part of the hot cornstarch mixture into the egg to temper it. Stir this mixture into the cooked mixture and then return the saucepan to the heat and cook for one to two minutes longer.

Remove from the heat and blend in the butter, stirring until it is melted and completely mixed in. Stir in the vanilla. Cool, covered, to help prevent a skin from forming. (Personally I like the skin . . . it's almost my favourite part). Serve warm or cold, with or without some whipped cream on top.



Over in The English Kitchen today there are some delicious Steak and Mushroom Pies!

“When our wagon gets stuck in the mud, God is much more likely to assist the man who gets out to push than the man who merely raises his voice in prayer—no matter how eloquent the oration.”
~Dieter F. Uchtdorf

The Simple Woman's Day book . . .

FOR TODAY, December 6th, 2011...

Outside My Window...
It is cold, dark and damp. Winter is upon us I think. We've had to have the heating on more and more. Ka-ching! Ka-ching!

I am thinking...
Yesterday I got a beautiful Christmas Card from my eldest daughter, Eileen. She is the one who is developmentally handicapped and who is getting married next July, you know the one . . . I travelled to Idaho to watch her compete in the Winter World Special Olympics a few years back with Lura. She had also put a little note into it. She was apologizing for the e-mail she had sent to me about her wedding where she told me that I was not allowed to see her on the morning of the wedding, that the only people allowed to be there was herself, her two bridesmaids and her stepmom. But then she went on to say again that she didn't want her special day ruined and would I please try to get along with the stepmom. "Sorry about the e-mail I sent you. It's just Karen that's all. You know how it is with her. Just when you come please try to get along with her. I don't want my wedding day ruined." Truth is I have not spoken to my daughter about her wedding at all. I haven't e-mailed her about it (as she's not been allowed to use the computer for a while now, as far as I knew.). I haven't spoken to her on the telephone either. (She is never home when I call but is always training, or if she is home . . . she is too busy to talk, so I just haven't bothered.) I haven't written her a letter about it either. Obviously this is really causing her concern as she has mentioned it yet again. After I read this yesterday I went upstairs to work in my drawing room and I was crying. My heart is broken up about this whole thing. I have decided not to go to the wedding at all, not to go to either of the weddings. The last thing I would want to do is to cause my daughter to have these feelings of concern about her day, or to ruin it in any way. I have a feeling that the step mom is really causing some waves about me being there and putting undue stress on my daughter. As much as I would love to be there on her special day, I feel it is probably better for her if I am not. It causes me great anguish to make this decision, but I just can't think of any other answer. I love my daughter with all of my heart and I want her day to be special in every way. She and Tim have been waiting a very long time to be allowed to get married and I don't want anything to spoil that day for them. Me being there would spoil it because I think she would be nervous the whole time that something would be done or said. Of course I would not say or do anything . . . but the stepmom is always a powder keg waiting to go off. It's just best I stay away.

I am thankful for...
That I have a Heavenly Father who knows and loves ME, and the healing power that can come from resting in that love. I need to let it work in my life more.

From the kitchen...
Pineapple Upsidedown Gingerbread Cakes. 'Nuff said! (D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S!)

I am wearing...
Pink nightie (M&S), Pink jim jam bottoms, pink slippers, aqua robe. Layering for warmth and comfort. Todd asked me yesterday what I wanted for Christmas. I said some new slippers and a new nightie. I just love nighties and jimjams! (and new slippers!)

I am creating...
I did this yesterday afternoon:




I love her dress. My mother had one just like it when I was a little girl. Her's was blue and there were lots of net crinolines underneath and I can remember the sound of them rustling as she walked. She and my father used to go out dancing every Saturday night at the mess on the base. She always looked so pretty and smelled so nice. Ma Griff perfume. I sent her a bottle for Christmas this year. Anyways, I saw a picture of this dress on pinterest and I knew that I wanted to put it into one of my paintings. I hope that I did a good job on it. What do you think??

I am going...
Reading lessons, lunch date with some new friends on Wednesday, Dentist on Thursday, Visit Teaching on Friday (hopefully), Ward Christmas Party on Friday night and Temple on Saturday. Wow, it's a full week! That's good though . . . when one is busy one hardly has time to dwell on things. That's a good thing.

I am reading...



The American Wife, by Curtis Sittenfeld

On what might become one of the most significant days in her husband’s presidency, Alice Blackwell considers the strange and unlikely path that has led her to the White House . . . and the repercussions of a life lived, as she puts it, “almost in opposition to itself.”

A kind, bookish only child born in the 1940s, Alice learned the virtues of politeness early on from her stolid parents and small Wisconsin hometown. But a tragic accident when she was seventeen shattered her identity and made her understand the fragility of life and the tenuousness of luck. So more than a decade later, when she met boisterous, charismatic Charlie Blackwell, she hardly gave him a second look: She was serious and thoughtful, and he would rather crack a joke than offer a real insight; he was the wealthy son of a bastion family of the Republican party, and she was a school librarian and registered Democrat. Comfortable in her quiet and unassuming life, she felt inured to his charms. And then, much to her surprise, Alice fell for Charlie.

As Alice learns to make her way amid the clannish energy and smug confidence of the Blackwell family, navigating the strange rituals of their country club and summer estate, she remains uneasy with her newfound good fortune. And when Charlie eventually becomes President, Alice is thrust into a position she did not seek–one of power and influence, privilege and responsibility. As Charlie’s tumultuous and controversial second term in the White House wears on, Alice must face contradictions years in the making: How can she both love and fundamentally disagree with her husband? How complicit has she been in the trajectory of her own life? What should she do when her private beliefs run against her public persona?

In Alice Blackwell, New York Times bestselling author Curtis Sittenfeld has created her most dynamic and complex heroine yet. American Wife is a gorgeously written novel that weaves class, wealth, race, and the exigencies of fate into a brilliant tapestry–a novel in which the unexpected becomes inevitable, and the pleasures and pain of intimacy and love are laid bare.

I'm almost all the way through this book now, and I am going to be sorry when I am done. That's the sign of a good book, I think!!

I am hoping...
That I can get all the things done that I need to get done this week. Fingers crossed!

I am hearing...
Early morning sounds as the world wakes up around me. Every day sounds. Peaceable and comforting. The odd sound of a car as it passes . . . the clock ticking . . . Mitzie snozzling . . . the keys tap-tapping. Home.

Around the house...

Source: buddhainteriors.tumblr.com via Marie on Pinterest

I just love this old wood fired stove. Oh how I would love to have one in my kitchen, although in truth it's probably as big as my whole kitchen, so it wouldn't fit very well. I dream of one day having a big farmhouse kitchen with a stove just like this. My grandmother had one of these as did my first Mother In Law in her big old farm house. The sounds . . . the smells . . . logs crackling in the grate . . . that comforting smell of wood burning, mingled with whatever's cooking. How cosy and warm does that sound?? I know! Positively heavenly!

I am looking forward to...
I am really looking forward to our lunch out tomorrow. It will be nice to get to know this new couple better. We have some old friends in common and they are well travelled so I am sure we will have lots to talk about. I love making new friends, don't you?

If I could change one thing it would be ...
That people in my sphere of existance would learn to get along and not to be so narrowminded and selfish. I cannot let them steal my sunshine . . . I am working hard on that.

One of my favourite things...
Is losing myself in my artwork. I just put my headphones on and get stuck in. Usually I have one of my favourite music cd's playing and I go right into another world. For those few hours that I am painting . . . nothing else matters.

A few plans for the rest of the week...
J-A-M-P-A-C-K-E-D!!

Here is picture thought I am sharing...

Source: whittengrey.com via Marie on Pinterest

I am grateful for the friends in my life. Old, new . . . and in between . . . but I am especially grateful for my kindred spirit friends. (You know who you are.) They help to carry me when I am feeling down, kind of like the Saviour does. They are so very special to me, and I love them dearly. Everyone needs a kindred spirit friend . . . they are the ones who . . . from the very first meeting . . . feel like an old soft shoe, like you have always known each other, and like you always will. They feel like home.

"Two may talk together under the same roof for many years, yet never really meet; and two others at first speech are old friends."
- Mary Catherwood


As a closing thought I would like to leave you with this:

"Always remember . . . be kind, be fair, be honest, be true, & all of these things will come back to you."

It's called karma.

And there you have it . . . my day book for this week. Don't forget to hop on over to the Simple Woman to check out the other day book entries! (Or better yet, do a simple day book entry yourself! It's not that hard and I am betting you would enjoy it!

Nothing can be more comforting on a cold day than a warm, freshly baked apple. I'm not sure why this is . . . I only know that it is . . .




*Baked Apples with Mincemeat and Cream*
Serves 4
Printable Recipe

I love baked apples. They are so easy to do and always taste so good when they are done. For a little something extra special try baking them stuffed with mincemeat. These are truly delicious!

1 medium bottle of sparkling apple cider or apple juice (about 3 1/2 cups)
1/4 cup cranberry jelly
2 TBS unsalted butter
4 large baking apples (I used Blenheim Orange Suffolk)
3/4 cup purchases mincemeat
1/4 cup chopped walnuts
1/3 cup dried tart cherries
1 TBS chopped crystalized ginger
250 ml container of double cream for serving

Pre-heat the oven to 200*C/400*F. Lightly grease a baking dish and set aside.

Put the apple cider, cranberry jelly and butter into a large skillet and bring to a boil. Boil until it is reduced to about 1 1/4 cups. This should take about 12 to 15 minutes.

In the meantime, cut a cone shaped piece from the stem end of each apple, about 2 inches wide at the tip and 1 inch deep. Using a melon baller, remove the core, leaving the apple intact at the bottom. Take a sharp knife and cut a slight slit around the middle of each apple, about halfway up. Try not to cut in too deeply. This will help to prevent the apple from exploding in the oven and help it to keep it's shape.

Mix the mincemeat, walnuts, cherries and ginger together in a bowl. Spoon this mixture into the apples, filling and mounding it up in the centre.

Arrange the apples in the baking dish and then spoon the cider over and around them. Bake for about 45 minutes, until the apples are tender. Serve warm in shallow bowls with a spoonful of cream or two drizzled over each.



Over in The English Kitchen today, delicious Pineapple Gingerbread Upside Down Cakes!