(Art from allrecipe)

Ingredients

• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• ½ cup white sugar
• 5 teaspoons baking powder
• ½ teaspoon salt
• ¾ cup butter
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 cup milk

Directions

• Step 1: Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Lightly grease a baking sheet.
• Step 2: In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Cut in butter. Mix the egg and milk in a small bowl, and stir into flour mixture until moistened.
• Step 3: Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead briefly. Roll dough out into a 1/2 inch thick round. Cut into 8 wedges, and place on the prepared baking sheet.
• Step 4: Bake 15 minutes in the preheated oven, or until golden brown.

(I added mini-chocolate chips, big hit. Bon appetit, babies! WM)

(Photo by Steven Pings Rawley)

Back to borrowing pictures from Steve because all I ever shoot is my chickens. Ha! I jest. I don’t shoot them. And no, we don’t eat them. (I get asked this more than you would think. The Silkies we raise are (reportedly) good “meat birds.”) Ours lay eggs and get old and stop laying eggs and still get spoiled by us.

I love on them, and we carry them around quite a bit. They’re lovey-dovey-lovey-dovey birds. Yeah, except for the younguns who have already gone feral, but I’ll get to that in a minute…

So can you deal with some chicken talk? Because dear readers, we’ve been raising chickens for about three years (and by “we” I mean mainly my youngest kid, who tells me what to do with the birds) and I’ve learned, just oh so many things.

The other day I saw a hen peek out from behind a tree, up on the hill in the backyard. She disappeared like, oh snap no! when she saw me. A few seconds later, I thought I saw her disappear down the hill. I called to her, nothing. Then later, when she hadn’t reappeared, I asked my son to look for her. There she was, hiding in the bushes where she had disappeared, sitting on 8 big eggs. She’s a Wyandotte, black and gold, and has two sisters. They’re not even a year old, and we’ve raised them with two Olive Eggers and honest to God, they’re all five crazy. They’re half-feral, they run around the yard, chasing off the stray cats and eating the food I leave out for them. (There are only two strays, barn cats from across the street, and I’m not seeing much of them since the chickens have taken over.)

The cat food they’re devouring? (The chickens, not the cats. The cats don’t have much of a chance at it, unless the birds are cooped.) It’s chicken cat food. So yeah. I’m now the kind of person who feeds chicken to a chicken.

SMH and shaking my head and SMH forever.

I can’t remember what I used to do for fun. I think I used to go with friends to pubs, bars and clubs. Sometimes we danced. Drinking happened. I remember sitting at outdoor cafes, too. I seem to recall dating. Dinners out. Staying up until sunrise. I don’t know, it all gets a little vague. Traveling places? Something. Then once Steve and the kids came along, I just took them to the bar with me, so that was easy. We traveled a fair amount. Hmm. I remember being in a bar in Banff with my daughter in the middle of the night, because she was giddy and wouldn’t sleep so I thought, what the hell, we can have some appetizers and drinks.

She was 3 then; she’s 21 now and I’d like to say: Some things haven’t changed.

It’s still a worldwide pandemic, vaccines and all. No, I don’t feel like talking about it. But I will say, I’m looking forward to going out somewhere, eventually, at some point.

It could happen.

Back to the feral chickens: They want to roost outside and party all night. This is not going to end well for them. Nineteen hens, one rooster, a dozen eggs a day (or so) even when we’re not counting the random ones they’re hiding around the yard. Planning an Easter egg hunt, or something. Yes, we could have more chickens, see: rooster. Poor boy. He hasn’t been his usual self. He lets the girls alone, he’s sort of mopey. My son picked him up and was carrying him around, which he totally hates but we don’t care. His spurs are insane, so we always stop to admire them. But this time, yick and oh my heck. One had looped up and back, and was starting to grow into the skin of his leg. At this point my son said later and I turned to YouTube.

This happens, with spurs, and can cause lameness, misery (explains his grouchyass mood), and infection. They suggested using a Dremel (to grind it down), a big nail clipper (like you use for dogs) or a hacksaw. Blech. Dude, if I knew how things were going to turn out some evenings, I’d just go straight to bed, seriously.

Nail clipper. The vid said don’t take off more than half? (Go Google this yourself, I’m not exactly the animal husbandry expert here.) I trimmed off a bit, but it was like an icky fingernail, and the entire thing popped off. The rooster was so relieved to be babied that he had snuggled into my arms and was purring.

He purrs. Like a damn cat. He’s a white Silkie, about half the size of a typical rooster, and I love the boy. All that was left was a tiny new spur under the nasty one, and a fair amount of blood on me, him, the clippers.

I trimmed up the other one a bit. He’s fine, but they can bleed out from this so please use a Dremel and be ye not so stupid as me, as Dooce would say. You can use cornstarch to staunch the bleeding, apparently.

As far as the wild ones and their nest in the shrubs? We’re leaving it and hoping we don’t get a new flock. Twenty is enough.

Questions? Comments? Ask away.

All for now,

WM

(“My Best Chickens” photo by Nancy Ellen Row Rawley)

“What We’ll Build: Plans for Our Together Future,” by Oliver Jeffers (Philomel Books/Penguin Random House, 2020, $19.99). Nice new picture book from Jeffers (“The Day the Crayons Quit,” “How to Catch a Star,” “Lost and Found”) about a father and daughter who are building, literally and figuratively, for the future. Sweet, bright art depicting tools, a house being built, whimsical items, a ship that won’t sink… It’s the best combination of fantasy and reality.

“Let’s build a tunnel to anywhere. Le’s build a road up to the moon.” 

See more from Jeffers at his website.

“Hooray for Helpers! First Responders and More Heroes in Action,” by Mike Austin (Random House Books, 2020, $17.99). Good timing for this picture book, which also includes an interview with a real firefighter, an emergency supplies checklist and instructions for making an emergency contact list. Austin is married to author-illustrator Jing Jing Tsong and they have a sweet dog named Prudence. Look for them at jingandmike.com

“Oscar’s American Dream,” written by Barry Wittenstein and illustrated by Kristen and Kevin Howdeshell, is a historical fiction-style picture book with an “old-timey” feel. (Random House Books, 2020, $17.99.) Soft, muted pastels are used to illustrate the fictional story of Oskar Nowicki, who “arrived at Ellis Island carrying his life in a cardboard suitcase and a skinny roll of money in his coat pocket, a loan from his mother in Poland for a down payment on his dream.” 

He switches the “k” in his name to a “c,” in an effort to fit into his new country; he opens “Oscar’s All-American Barbershop in Manhattan; and gives away free haircuts to his first twenty customers “and lemon drops to all the boys and girls.”

The book traces the storefront’s evolution over the years, from barbershop to women’s clothing store to soup kitchen during the Great Depression and so on through modern times. It’s an interesting slice of American history, and includes info on suffragettes, wartime, the Civil Rights movement, and more. I appreciate the details and warmth of the Ezra Jack Keats-style paper and paint art.  

Wittenstein’s website is onedogwoof.com; and you’ll find the Howdeshells at thebraveunion.com.

Bon appetit, babies! Have a great weekend.

WM

(Meme by anon.)

Hello, babies. Sorry if you tried to get in and couldn’t. Technical difficulties.

Here’s a recipe (Judi i love you) to make it up to you.

Ginger Creams

Light with great flavor, without being overpowering, much like little gingerbread cakes. I’m going back to my big, red Betty Crocker cookbook, and not just for the recipe, but for the wonderful memories that accompany it.

COOKIE INGREDIENTS:

Directions

1. Mix thoroughly shortening, sugar until blended; add egg, molasses and water with mixer. Stir in remaining ingredients, except frosting. Cover; chill 1 hour.

2. Heat oven to 400’F. Drop dough by teaspoonfuls, 2 inches apart onto ungreased baking sheet. Bake 7-8 minutes or until almost no imprint remains when touched with finger. Immediately remove from baking sheet; cool.

3. Vanilla Butter Frosting: Blend butter and sugar. Stir in vanilla and milk; beat until frosting is smooth and of spreading consistency.

4. Frost cooled cookies and get ready for a real treat! Store in an airtight container after frosting dries; put waxed paper between layers. These actually get more moist and taste even better the next day!

 

Last Step: Don’t forget to share!

Yum, am I right? We’re OK now, tech-wise. So here is a glimpse into what’s new on the nightstand and on my desk at work…

I loaded my students up with juiceboxes and snacks and started reading them “Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH,” the 1971 classic by Robert C. O’Brien. Snacks: gone. Juiceboxes: emptied. “More.” So we read more. Then I told them a story about my best, favorite teacher, Miss Howard, grade 4, and how she read us this book and I’ve remembered it ever since.

“More.” So we read more. Then they had lunch and I had them refill their water bottles. #hydration #lifeskills #aguaagua “Why do you always think we need so much water?!?” 

“Because when I was a kid, we didn’t even have water bottles, that’s how long ago it was. We drank from canteens. Or the water fountains. And the teachers always said noyoucantgogetadrinkagainyourefine.”

“Which is why at the end of the day, I always craved what?”

“WATER!”

“No. Orange Crush, with crushed ice. Because I was dehydrated at that point *and* low on sugar.”

“I love Orange Crush.” “Yeah, me, too.” “OK, read.”

If you’ve never read Mrs. Frisby, read it. It’s everything. An allegory, a parable, a great story, a glimpse into the future, past and present. It will let you see what life is like, from a mouse’s point of view. It’s genius and I’ll never stop loving it. (Equally incredible: O’Brien’s “The Silver Crown.”)

“My Inner Sky: On Embracing Day, Night, and All the Times in Between,” by Mari Andrews (Penguin Books, 2021, 255 pages, $22), arrived a few weeks ago. This cool book of art/inspiration/writing and more by Mari Andrews, is lovely, and not just because the cover reminds me of one of the shimmer diamond paintings my daughter and I have become hooked on. I’ve been reading through/soaking in a bit of Andrews’ book every day. It’s like the sunshine we are so frequently blessed with and deprived of during springtime in the Pacific Northwest — it pops up when you need it, disappears for a minute, reappears again. I’ll go all arty here — I love her use of color (primarily watercolor), the rhythm, the ebbs and flows of the book. It’s a work of art, and a good read. It’s a happy book, and it’s just what we all needed right now.

“To live life to the fullest means to *feel* life to the fullest: Full pain, full boredom, full unfairness, full magnificence, full mourning, full lazy days, full joy, full disappointment, full creativity.”

Andrews’ woo-woo style (and I do mean that as a compliment — I’m a fan of woo-woo) is comforting and chop-chop at the same time. It is the kind of book that will give you something different every time you pick it up, and has layers of ideas and thoughts. Highly recommended, especially as a gift to a family member, friend or co-worker.

My cousin sent me a crate of books! She did. With a beautiful note (the girl has lovely handwriting, just like her mom) that said something like, at least one of these books is yours, I know, and the rest look like they should be. This made me happy, especially cuz one of the books was a healthy woo-woo (yeah i said woo-woo again) book from the ’80s, all carob and food tips for the housewives in the crowd, one is a slowcooker special, one has “eff you” in the title (yeah it effin’ does) and the rest are Nigella Lawson cookbooks.

Eff yeah. You wish you had a cousin as great as mine but you don’t. Sorry.

Now. Pasta a la vodka, anyone?

PENNE ALLA VODKA, by Nigella Lawson

INGREDIENTS:

Salt

1 cup finely chopped onion

2 tablespoons garlic-infused oil

1 28-ounce can plum tomatoes (or 3 cups finely chopped fresh tomatoes)

2 tablespoons heavy cream

2 pounds penne rigate

½ cup vodka

4 tablespoons butter

Grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

PREPARATION YIELD 8 to 10 servings

TIME 45 minutes

“Penne alla vodka is the perfect recipe for easy entertaining: short pasta is easier to cook in quantity than long strands and the sauce is amusingly retro — think 1960s Rome, where the dish originated. But it is seriously good.

Step 1: Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Place a large sauté pan over medium-low heat, and add onion, oil and a sprinkling of salt. Sauté onion until soft and beginning to caramelize, about 10 minutes.

Step 2: Add tomatoes and their juices, and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes. Add heavy cream, and remove from heat.

Step 3: Add pasta to boiling water and cook until al dente. Drain pasta and return to cooking pot. Add vodka, butter and salt to taste. Gently mix penne until butter is melted. Add tomato mixture, and mix until pasta is coated.

Step 4: To serve, transfer pasta and sauce to a large warmed bowl. Pass Parmesan cheese for guests to serve themselves.”

Bon appetit, babies!

WM