Draft 2021

Well, the leftover turkey is frozen, the carcass boiled into broth and only cranberry sauce remains. The last of the fall decorations are taken down and (almost) put away, the tree is up, the wreath is hung and visions of Christmas cookies are dancing in my head. I just finished all my Christmas shopping and am, believe it or not, making progress on the homemade gifts. Melissa is frantically crafting, the boys are both back at college and outside it's a winter wonderland. Time for a deep breath as we delve into December and all this holiday month entails. I'm planning on enjoying every single minute of the hustle and bustle, the baking, the wrapping, the crafting. And hold in my heart all those who are dear to me, near and far, past and present. The greatest symbol of the season for me is hope and joy, peace and goodwill. We plan to spread as much cheer and happiness as we possibly can.

This meal featured an onion and potato frittata, made with local everything except salt and pepper. The onions we bought in bulk from the Downtown Des Moines Farmer's Market in October. We purposefully went at the end of the market and asked for a deal on a bushel of onions, which I believe we got for $24. The potatoes were from our CSA, the eggs and milk from a local dairy. It was truly scrumptious and will definitely make an appearance at our table again soon. We also had zero mile sweet potatoes from our own garden. This was our first try growing sweet potatoes and they tasted fabulous roasted with a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper. We'll need to work on our growing technique, as the potatoes were long, but too thin. I think it was due to a combination of late planting and crowded conditions. Also on the plate are homemade dill pickles. We bought the cucumbers from a woman who advertised on Craig's List. We enjoyed the trip out to her garden and plan to buy our

I thought I'd share some recent "good deals" that took a modest amount of effort, but yielded great savings. First, we received two Walgreen's coupons offering $25 gift cards with a prescription transfer. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Not quite. We had a heck of a time with poor communication between Walgreen's and our doctor's office and Walgreen's and us. It took us 3 days and 4 trips to accomplish one of the transfers. I was almost ready to forget the whole thing - I think I have issues with a low frustration level - but we finally were able to fill the prescription there and dh even used the gift card to pay for it (I think that's a no-no, but the pharmacist is the one who allowed the transaction). Thankfully, the second transfer was much easier, though still not as convenient as the small, locally-owned pharmacy we usually use. Still, $25 is $25. We fully intend to transfer the prescription back to Bauder's where "everybody knows your na

your big brother comes home from college.

We are so thankful. This is our Thankful Turkey. He has appeared at our house each and every November 1st since 1991. The turkey starts without feathers. Every day each of us adds a feather (or two or ten) that states something for which we're thankful. Our thanks run from the mundane "Mom's cooking," to the practical "the fireplace," to the somewhat absurd "nasal spray." We are thankful for friends and family, coffee, that my mom is recovering well from her surgery, for our pets, and on and on. When the kids were little, the ever-expanding feathery-ness of the turkey helped to underscore how many, many things we have to be thankful for in our daily lives. And it didn't hurt for the adults to be reminded of this, either...

What greets you first thing in the morning? Perhaps it's the glory of flowers basking in the sun's rays... Maybe it's that first cup of coffee, steaming hot and oh, so indispensable... It could be the grandeur of a sunrise... or the melodic laughter of a wee one. But if you're me, you are greeted each day by something much more unique than any of the above. In fact, it's furry, goofy and frankly, a little stinky. No, it's not my darling husband. There's nothing quite like waking each morning, turning over, and being greeted by this: Oh, yes. It's good to be me... Sort of.

My seemingly never-ending search for holiday bargains online has led to more and more store-related email finding its way into my gmail. The other day, I opened my gmail to find this: Well, not exactly this but something, unbelievably, inspired by these guys, who, by the way, are members of the Swiss Army. Who knew the Swiss even had an army? And besides, even now knowing they do have an army, why would the poster boys (gals) of military neutrality even need to dress in camouflage? But I digress... What is this fabulous consumer product inspired by the Swiss Army? A Swiss army gun, complete with toothpick and scissors? A -40 degree sleeping bag for those nights spent in the Alps? Au contraire. Apparently, the Swiss Army has a secret weapon. Yes, that's right. For only $23.99, you too may project an aroma of neutrality with either Swiss Army cologne for men or, believe it or not, Swiss Army perfume for women. There's even an androgynous version for those who take non-alignment

Last night's "Hallmark" moment was brought to me by my family. My family. For the first time in months, we all were home together. We spent the evening gathered around the fireplace, talking, laughing, reminiscing. Even the dog and the cats joined us in family reverie. It occurred to me then how our definition of family and "coming home" changes with time. I used to consider "home" wherever my parents were, as I'm sure my kids still do today. We moved so often in my childhood that there was never a specific "place" that I equated with home; "home" was wherever my family was. Now, home is my own house, with my husband and children. We're going to my mom's for Thanksgiving this year, but that's not going home for me. And someday, my house will be "Grandma's house," too. As my children find love and marriage and have children of their own, my house won't be their "home" any longer. And

This poverty post is brought to you by the ubiquitous Entertainment Book. I generally avoid purchasing entertainment books or other coupon-type deals. The last time I purchased an entertainment book was at least 10 years ago when it was being used as a fundraiser at my son's school. The book and all its coupons were put in the kitchen drawer, where they sat, untouched, until we moved several years later. Since then, I've managed to avoid buying them, therefore saving at least $20 a year x 10. Wow. Unfortunately, this year I fell prey to was approached by a sweet young teen fundraising for the school chorus at fall conferences. Poor girl, her sales sheet was nearly empty, save for a purchase by a relative or two. Who was I to deny her dreams of choral glory? Besides, it was either the coupon book or frozen strudel. I nearly bought the frozen strudel when I came to my senses and realized the coupon book, at $20, was less expensive and did not need cold storage. Yesterday I

Remember Brunhilde? From the day the chicks arrived in early September, Brunhilde was the most assertive: the first to eat, the first to drink, the first to come for attention. When all the other chicks were scared, Brunhilde would always venture forth. She is a take-charge kind of girl. Or rather, I should say, "was." No, Brunhilde didn't die. She crowed. Yep, in the last couple of weeks, we'd noticed that Brunhilde continued to outpace her sisters in size. Gosh, even her comb was much larger than the other ladies'. Some of us became a little suspicious of her, shall we say, persuasion, while others of us lived in denial. It simply couldn't be true. Then it happened. Early one morning as Sarah let the chickens out of the coop, Brunhilde ruffled herself up and let out a strangled, slightly mangled, "Cock-a-doodle-doo." The revelation was met by shock, a few tears, and several "I-told-you-so's." We finally had to acknowledge the truth. O

I couldn't agree more...

Laura, of The (not so) Urban Hennery is sponsoring a Dark Days Eat Local challenge this winter. The rules? Cook one meal a week featuring at least 90% local ingredients You define local - the standard definitions range from 100, to 150 to 200 miles Ingredients can be things you grew and preserved yourself, sourced from local farms and markets, or purchased at the store Write about the meals you cook, your challenges finding ingredients, why you’re eating local or whatever else strikes your fancy for each recap. Photos are optional. Include friends and family in your sourcing and eating as possible For our first local meal, we chose a breakfast of whole grain pumpkin pancakes, local ham from "happy pigs," local butter and milk from Picket Fence Creamery and homemade applesauce with apples from a local orchard. Even the maple syrup is from Iowa! The flour in the pancakes is from Paul's Grains and the pumpkin is from our own garden. I spent the summer sourcing as many loc

This is our new baby! Ivy will join our family December 6. We're picking her up from the breeder in Illinois that weekend. Oh, my god, she's adorable! Oh, my god, what have I done? Memories of barely surviving Wally's puppyhood with my sanity intact have been flooding my dreams lately. Maybe she'll be a really calm puppy, unlike Wally, who required daily 5 mile walks just to be tolerable indoors. Maybe she won't need to chew as much as Wally did; at one point, we were going through upwards of $50 worth of chew toys a month, and that was 8 years ago. God only knows how much it would cost now! We got Wally in December, too. I remember how much fun it was to house-train a puppy in the dead of winter. Maybe Ivy will be really, really smart and only take a week to trust in the house??? Maybe... I do know, however, that she will be soft and sweet and cuddly. That we already love her wildly and we haven't even met her yet. That even Michael is getting excited about br

Thanksgiving Centerpiece Number 1?

What do you do when your day looks like this? How about your week? When darkness starts to fall before 5 p.m. and the thermostat is set at 63? This is what I do: A little bit of chocolatey sunshine beats the early winter blues every time! The heat from the oven doesn't hurt, either...

Last Christmas Stephen gave Michael and me Adobe Photoshop. Being the procrastinators that we are, neither of us has taken the time to learn how to use the program. But the other night, Melissa took pictures of this huge flock of crows roosting in the trees in our yard. Unfortunately, the photos seemed unusable; there just hadn't been enough light. Well, thanks to some fortuitous clicking last night, I messed with one of the photos using the Adobe program. A totally unusable photo became this cool, artsy and somewhat creepy-looking bird shot. I think I need to play with Adobe a little more...

You may have noticed (all 3 of my readers, that is) the little "I took the handmade pledge" button on the right. If I remember correctly, I took the pledge sometime last spring, well after family birthdays and certainly in plenty of time for Christmas gifting. I had the best of intentions. Really, I did. But then a little thing called "life" got in the way, sidetracking me with troublesomely annoying time suckers like bushels of apples, sick pets, family illness, leaky roofs and a multitude of unplanned-for expenses. My life is really no busier than anyone else's, yet time to "craft," which for me basically means easy crochet patterns, always seems to get pushed to the back burner, while the time to complete them slowly boils away. So, here we are in the middle of November and I have yet to complete a single handmade item for anyone on my Christmas list. If I were an expert at crocheting, as I remember my grandmother being, I could work on afghans, thr

I have spent fully half my adult life reading out loud. No kidding. I really have. I started reading to my babies from board books at 3 months old. By the time they were 6 months, they would sit on my lap, wriggling in excitement and anticipation over what would come next in the "story." As the kids graduated from board books, we moved into the realm of Little Golden Books, Sesame Street stories and The Berenstain Bears. From there, it was a short hop to Uncle Wiggily, Grimms Fairytales and King Arthur. We read in the morning, before and after naps and before bed each and every night, to each and every child. There were times when I would be reading a novel to the boys, a separate book to Sarah, and still different books to Melissa. We used to have "reading marathons," when I would tell the kids to choose a stack of books each and we would snuggle up in bed or on the couch and read, read, read to our hearts' content. My parents thought we were a little weird to

We have a leak in our roof. Estimated repair cost: $2,000 and they can't fix it until mid-December. Dh plans to climb onto our 3-story-high roof tomorrow morning and attempt to patch the leak with roof tar. Dear friend's husband plans to serve as ballast. Tomorrow's high? 37. No one wants to buy our Prius. No one. We recently added yet another prescription medication to our family's pharmacopia. Co-pay: Yet another $25 a month. Our little Lester likely has an auto-immune disease, a la lupus. Currently, he's on 3 different medications and his poor little eyes are still red-rimmed and sore. Likely, there soon will be a trip to the Vet. Med. school at Iowa State University. Big Bucks. Other happy thoughts? College tuition and books, two kids need new shoes, my nice winter coat doesn't fit me anymore and my favorite pair of jeans has a hole. Good news? So far, I'm sticking to my "cash only" Christmas budget and have found some great deals b

Something happened to me last week. I spent the week in Arkansas taking care of my mom, helping her transition to being home from the hospital after major abdominal surgery, cooking, cleaning, etc. My mom is a why-put-off-til-tomorrow-what-you-can-do-right-now kind of person. An example? She has never, in all her 79 years, owned a laundry basket. Even when she was a working mother of 4 children, the laundry was always washed, dried, folded and put away all in one episode. I can honestly say that my mom has never had to rewash a load of laundry because it sat in the machine so long it smells musty. I, on the other hand, am a procrastinator extraordinaire. But I came home from my mom's energized. I mean, all week I've been getting up, drinking my coffee, and actually getting things done. Bathroom cleaning. Vacuuming. Packing away Halloween decorations. Washing dishes. Actually washing, drying and folding laundry all in the same day. Now, I've obviously spent time with my mom

Medusa and I spent last week in Arkansas helping my mom in her first week home from the hospital. She is doing amazingly well, after spending 24 days hospitalized. I was pleasantly surprised by how physically strong she is after such an ordeal. We were able to see her gain strength on a daily basis. Melissa decided not to trick-or-treat, but went ahead and dressed in her Medusa constume for a few hours. I think she looked quite creepy. She and I also tried our hand at pumpkin painting and constuming. It was easy and lots of fun. Melissa created the witch. And I created the mummy. While she missed our usual Halloween celebration with friends, I know Melissa feels the same way I do. Neither one of us would have missed that week my my mom for all the candy in the world.

That's all there is between cold comfort and icy misery. I had been congratulating myself on my pioneer stamina, my toughness in the face of freezing temperatures. I would survive without heat until November 1st. Crown me Queen Frostine . That was until the temperature in the house dropped to 61 degrees two weeks ago on Monday. Okay, I was no wimp. The fireplace insert was due to be installed on Wednesday, I knew I could make it two days. Especially since my family was with me all the way. But as my body temperature began to drop, Melissa turned from cheerleader to drill sergeant. My still, nearly lifeless form rarely moved from under the blankets on the couch all day. I know this is contrary to the theory of keeping warm: the colder you are, the more you should move around. But something strange happens to the mind as hypothermia sets in. Instead of bustling around the house to keep warm, I huddled even deeper into the couch, with all blood flowing to my core to keep my vital org