home and not home

Pook flew to Utah on Sunday, to attend an Elderhostel with my parents. This morning they participated in a ropes course and tomorrow morning they get a hot air balloon ride. Some activities will be for grandchildren only, some for the grandparents, and many will bring them together. I know Pook will love a zip line, but my mom? We'll see. Park City, Utah, is the site of the 2002 Winter Olympics. So they'll visit many of the Olympic venues and, I think, get a chance to bobsled. Except there wouldn't be any ice so I think this is referred to as an "alpine slide" instead. No less exciting.

Bug, while his brother and feuding partner is away, is attending a morning tennis camp.  After a week he will have about as much experience with tennis as I have. Today he learned a forehand swing, played a game called "Jail" and made friends with a boy "who is 13... but nice!" He has already been bored, but is outside (on his brother's bike) at the moment, dealing well with his boredom for now.

I am wondering if I should make Pook's bed and tidy his room. I've already picked up the dirty laundry and washed it, but I wouldn't want the room to look totally un-lived-in or I'd start to miss him too much.  I'll leave the bed unmade.

I am not out and about nor learning anything new. I'm folding the fifth load of laundry washed today. I'm reading aloud (the second to last chapter of Harry Potter, Chamber of Secrets) to Bug. I'm listening to the ice cream truck (which doesn't seem to have gotten the memo that the pool is closed Mondays to save the impoverished county money.) I'm smelling banana bread that I helped Bug bake earlier.  I'm still relaxed from the yoga class I attended this morning.  All is calm and good.

easy bake oven

Vidalia season. Time to pull out the worn out recipe for Vidalia onion pie. That would be recipes in the plural. At least one for quiche. A few called pie. Another, with a cracker base. Another, all scribbled upon.  Honestly, it doesn't matter which one I used last time. I always do the same thing. I mess with them.

No, let me rephrase that. First I mess with them, then I complain that they never turn out.  This year will be different.  The kids hear me mention "Vidalia pie" and get excited. "Are you making a quiche?" "Oh, I love Vidalia pies!"  See what I have to work with here? The pressure is tough.

I decide to start over, and I go online. Food Network has a five star recipe. I'll go back to basics and ignore all the scribbles for changes I've previously made.

Excellent.

Two pounds of onions. How much does an onion weigh? I bought five. That'll do.

"Do not brown the onions."  Huh? Are they completely wacko? Of course I'm browning the onions. I'll put them in the crock pot and I'll give them all day. What a great smell!

Oh, one commenter skipped the crust. That would solve so many of my problems. I hate making pie crust.

Really? Only three eggs? But then it becomes a side dish, and I don't have time to plan something else. I'll double it.

Hm. A cup of sour cream. I have most of a cup. But certainly not two. I'll add some milk.

Well, if it called for three tablespoons of flour, and I'm doubling it, that's six. But I used milk instead of the extra sour cream, so maybe just a little bit more.

I don't have much Parmesan. Maybe Swiss. Oooh, I have that wonderful Jarlsberg; that will be fabulous.

Preheated to 450... no, still not hot. Still not hot? What?! Why is that $%#& oven still not hot?  Well, I've done this before. I'll turn on the broiler until it gets hot and then the residual heat will be fine.

Twenty minutes. Got that. Now I can lower the temp (it will actually do this by itself since it isn't heating today anyway) and cook it another twenty minutes "or until done in the center." Ha! I know to set aside an hour for a quiche. I'm prepared for this one.

Or so I thought I was. I let the dish rest for five minutes, to the chorus of "I'm hungry"s, and then served up... raw egg on the bottom.   I turn the broiler on to heat the oven again, and set the timer for yet another twenty minutes.

It is now after 7pm. We make ham sandwiches for dinner. Everyone is crabby.

As we clear the table and decide to go out for ice cream, I check on the pie again. It looks fabulous. It has risen two inches and browned to a golden cheesy deliciousness.

Just like that, I've baked a wonderful Vidalia onion pie.

We'll eat it tomorrow.  I might need to make a few notes on the recipe however.

cheese, wishes, messes and fairies-- oh my!

I'm finally getting around to reading some of the journals, etc. that came home at the end of the school year.

Bug always has some stories worth a chuckle.

George and the magic Mozzerella
1. George finds some mozzerella in his house
2. George wishes he had a Pet dinosaur. Suddenly he is riding a triceritops.
3. Hes still holding the cheese
4. It charges his mom and dad, he said Woah! Stop! It does
5. He wishes he had a Pet griffin, cyclops, and centar he gets them
6. he goes to bed with the cheese on his bed-side table
7. Years pass and George takes good care of the cheese

Also by Bug:

If I had three wishes one would be that I could fly. I would be able to get places in a hurry. My second wish would be that I could turn invisible. It would be useful to be able to sneak around. My last wish would be to have the ability to walk into a book and trade Places with a character. That would be really fun.

 I was entertained by Pook in this one. He knows himself well.

Messyish Me

When Mrs. Lavender walks into my bedroom she thinks that "this room is fairly cleanish." She thinks that it is cleanish because there is not things all over the floor. The beds are sort of made. I share the room with my little brother. It is clean because the toys are in the Toy Room. The closet is not very neat though. I am not as neat as that room is.

Pook has doodles in his notebooks which crack me up. He has another which involves a boxing glove triggered by an closed circuit. At least they were in the science notebook! (I have approximated his drawing, not copied it.)