Monster Cookies November 9, 2012

These Monster Cookies are nothing more than Mom’s Crispy, Chewy Oatmeal Cookies disguised with an excessively extravagant array of goodies added to the batter. There are no limitations to the possible additions to these cookies. The more the merrier I always say!

These cookies are amazing.

Besides being completely and totally ridiculously delicious, I’m pretty sure they even prevent wrinkles. Or maybe it was aging? I can’t remember now. All I know is… they sure bring out the kid in ya!

These are really good y’all!

Give ’em a try, but please be forwarned… they are frighteningly addictive!

Start by sweetening your butter.

With brown sugar.

And granulated sugar.

Cream until just combined.

Add an egg.

Mix well.

Then add flour.

Soda. Baking soda. Not to be confused with Cola Soda.

Salt.

And mix.

Add vanilla.

Oats.

M & M’s.

Chocolate chips.

Peanut butter chips.

Plenty of nuts.

And mix.

Don’t forget the rice crispies!

There. Now mix it up. It’s the last time, I promise.

And drop by spoonfuls onto an ungreased cookie sheet…

and bake at 350 for about 10 minutes or until golden brown.

Enjoy!

Here’s the recipe:

Oatmeal Cookies

makes 15 cookies

1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup brown sugar, tightly packed
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla
3/4 cup flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 cup quick cooking oats
1/4 cup M & M’s
1/4 cup chocolate chips
1/4 cup peanut butter chips
1/4 cup nuts
1/2 cup rice crispies

Cream together softened butter, sugars and egg. Add vanilla, flour, salt and baking soda. Mix well. Add oats, M & M’s, chocolate chips, peanut butter chips and nuts. Give it a stir, then add your rice crispies. Stir just until combined.

Drop walnut-sized mounds of dough on cookie sheet. Bake in preheated 350 oven for about 10 minutes.

Mandatory Meeting

The Bessy Club is having a mandatory meeting this morning. The meeting is being held under the pear tree, near the garden shed just slightly northwest of the chicken pen.

I’m pretty sure they are planning a party to celebrate the 90% chance of .2 inches of rain we are all so hopeful to get around here this weekend. It will be the first shower they’ve had in weeks. And trust me, they need it.

The fetid, malodorous aura surrounding their clique has been somewhat of a hinderance in the recruiting department. Which is probably why they’ve chosen to temporarily sever their relations with the rest of the herd.

They’ll have to be sure they are out in the open or they might miss the shower altogether.

That would be tragic.

The meeting was for bovines only. ‘Bessy’ being the required name/password.

Poor Rocket is just now finding this out.

It really hurt his feelings.

Who needs a club like that anyway Rocket?

Not me.

Not when we can hang out with cowboys like this.

Gossiping on the Ranch November 8, 2012

I tell ya. I don’t know if any amount of fencing will keep our animals where they are supposed to be. As soon as I get one animal back in its pen, three more show up.

I called Drover the other night to let him know there were three cows loose in the yard.

“Cows or calves?” he asks. Because if you didn’t know… there is a difference. Cows have already had calves. Calves haven’t.

Complicated, I know.

“Calves. Well, heifers,” I inform him. Heifers are bigger than calves but smaller than cows that have already given birth to calves. “One’s black, one’s black n white and one’s red. In that order.”

“Yeah. Those three heifers run around everywhere together. Go ahead and give em a little grain. We’ll move them sometime in the next week or two,” he says.

This morning, the small clique of girls were grazing in the back pasture. I’m of the impression Black Bessy is the leader of the pack.

We have a lot of Bessy’s on this ranch.

I’m thinking this is the Bessy club. Like the Betty Club. Only Bessy.

Although this is probably the younger Bessy Club, obviously branched from the original, older Bessy Club.

I wish I had a name like Bessy.

Or Betty.

Gladis is a good name.

You can trust a lady with a name like Gladis.

When I get old, I’m changing my name to Gladis.

Anyhow. The girls were so busy this morning, they didn’t even notice my presence until I was rather close. Two of the girls were off to themselves a bit. Gossiping I’m sure.

“I can’t believe how fat Black Bessy has gotten. I am so jealous.”

“I know. I’ve been eating all the same grasses she has and I still don’t have curves like that.”

“I bet she’s been sneaking out at night and getting extra grain.”

“She’s probably been sneaking over to the ranch house for weeks now and is only just now telling us about the grain they give out.”

Girls.

The Sidetracked Side of Things. November 7, 2012

I still haven’t started painting fence around here. Primarily because I’ve been making excuses and getting sidetracked. At first it was too cold. Then it was too windy. And lately it’s been too…

pretty.

I know I’ve used this excuse in the past, but it’s a valid argument.

I’ve used this same excuse as a reason to procrastinate hand picking pecans to replenish my freezer stash. Every pecan season I contemplate whether or not I should buy pecan harvesting equipment so I will no longer have to pick the pecans by hand. Ultimately, each season, I decide that I wouldn’t have near the time or help I’d need to pick up each and every twig in order to run the equipment through our large, muddled pecan grove.

Sure I have three boys who are completely willing and able to pick up sticks. But I’ve learned that in boy talk “stick” is code for “weapon” and the domino effect of potential outcomes that could develop from an entire day of gathering “weapons” with 3 boys just doesn’t compute.

So each year I decide it’s best to have our neighbor harvest our pecans as usual while I hand-pick the fruits of the trees that can’t be harvested with their equipment.

But today I’m really thinking that even though it’s supposed to be a perfectly beautiful day, I should really go pick some pecans because I know that when Drover gets finished planting his wheat, he will have me out building and tearing down fences. And then I will have zero time to pick pecans, crack pecans and dig the meat out of the shells.

At least moving on to fencing means we will have helpers. I’m sure it will come to no surprise that my boys are quite helpful when it comes to the destruction of old fences.

One removes clips.

The other holds the clip bucket.

“Have you tried the kare-ra-tee-CHOP! …That’s how I’d do it.”

“I will try your so-called fencing pliers… but I still think the kare-ra-tee-CHOP would be thy best method.”

Here, the middle child struggles to remove a stubborn clip.

And the eldest lends him a hand.

Then one of the boys notices an armadillo wandering by, minding its own business, unaware of the curiosity young fence demolitioners exhibit. And then the helpers are sidetracked.

I can’t imagine how this confounded characteristic took root in my children.

All I know is that our sidetracked helpers have ditched the fencing pliers and clips for weapons like sticks…

…and t-posts which they intend to use as make-shift probes to drive the armadillo out of it’s back entrance.

Or the east entrance.

Or maybe the west entrance.

Wrestling with Dirt November 6, 2012

Things get so darn dirty around here.

A. My car.

I’m pretty sure it’s the reason why I have so few friends. It has become a giant mobile text message with all the graffiti my kids have scribbled in the dust-coated exterior provided by my 6 mile long gravel road. Hangman is a popular game for my kids to play on my car while waiting on me to take them to school or wrestling practice.

They’ve also written things like:

I heart my kids

and

Help Me!

I’m really hoping that when people see me and my three boys pass by, they realize I’m the one actually in need of help. At wrestling practice last night I saw my 9-year-old take down a 125 pound boy, nearly twice his size and bigger than me.

It would probably be wise of me to pay a bit more attention to the lessons at practice tonight. Maybe work out a bit. Pump some iron. Perfect my fireman’s carry.

Regardless, I’m thinking the days of getting my bluff in are numbered.

Too bad the days of doing laundry aren’t. I’m pretty sure I will be wrestling with dirty laundry for the rest of my days.

The only thing saving my sanity when it comes to laundry is the delay start button on my front load washing machine. It makes me look so effortlessly efficient.

I can use all the help I can get in that department.

With the delay start button, I can put a load of filthy laundry in the machine before bed, set the timer to start early the next morning and have one load of laundry freshly cleaned and ready to dry before I even get out of bed. If it weren’t for that and the sanitize button on the machine, I’m not sure I could survive life on this ranch.

Don’t get me wrong, the boys do help clean things.

1. Saddles.

2. More saddles.

3. And tack.

But typically they only clean things if it means they can get dirty in the process.

Help me.

A Monday List : Have You Ever… November 5, 2012

1. Have you ever lost your keys in a football helmet?

On Saturday, my boys’ football teams had pictures, equipment check-in and a pizza party. While we were there, I was keeping my eye on the clock because I also needed to get my youngest boy to his soccer game in another town.

But somewhere between pictures, changing clothes, equipment check-in and the pizza party, I lost my keys.

I had searched the car, the parking lot, the check-in table, the bleachers, my kid’s pockets… everywhere except my son’s football helmet which by now had been added to the huge heap of 1st-6th grade football equipment piled on a flat-bed trailer.

Fortunately, one of the coaches remembered the general vicinity of my son’s equipment and miraculously found my keys resting in the bottom (or is it the top?) of my son’s football helmet.

How we ever found my keys in that mess, will forever be a miracle to me.

2. Have you ever been late to be early to where you needed to be?

The key fiasco ended up making me 3 minutes late to be early for my son’s soccer game. Which means that instead of being 15 minutes early to the game, we were only 12 minutes early. Which means we were late.

This was a difficult concept to explain to my 5-year-old.

3. Have you ever questioned whether or not the book you were reading was actually written by the author listed on the cover?

Anyone?

Sometimes I find myself getting to know an author and knowing their style and then reading one of their books that just doesn’t seem to read the same….

That’s when I wonder whether they actually wrote the book or just put their name on the cover.

4. Have you ever noticed how peaceful and beautiful the sunrise is in the country?

5. Have you ever went hunting with a 5-year-old?

Early one morning this weekend, my two older boys went with their Dad to care for the cows on the ranch, leaving me and my youngest all alone at the house. I dressed us both for comfort in sweatpants and sweatshirts and made a fire in the woodstove, happy to hibernate for the day.

Then my youngest, loading BB’s into his BB gun, asked me if I’d go hunting with him.

How could I possibly say no?

6. Have you ever went hunting with a 5-year-old and happened upon a deer?

7. Have you ever noticed how cold hardy cilantro is?

I didn’t plant a fall garden this year due to the drought, so anything that comes up in my garden at this point is purely volunteer.

I love volunteers!

8. Have you ever had Chicken and Wild Rice Soup?

It’s hardy. It’s filling. And really tasty.

9. Have you ever been to Bass Pro Shop with 3 boys and 1 gift card?

… and wore the wrong shoes and seriously considered having your boys push you around in one of the shopping carts?

10. Have you ever noticed how peaceful and beautiful the sunset is in the country? Especially in the fall?

Reuben Sandwich

About a week ago, my then 7-year-old brought home a little booklet he had made at school that was all about him. What he looked like… where he lived…

His favorite things.

Most of the things in his book, I already knew and could easily interpret from his highly detailed drawings.

But this one…

This one was a bit puzzling to me.

What food item is rectangular, red all over and lined with green ruffles?

Big Red gum on a bed of lettuce?

Moldy strawberry jello?

I was completely stumped.

“It’s a reuben sandwich, Momma,” he explained.

“A reuben sandwich?” I replied, still not sure I had heard him right. I can’t even remember the last time I made a reuben sandwich. 2009 maybe? Or was it 1999? Was he even born yet? And what about fried fish? Ribeye steak? Bobcat spaghetti?

“Yeah,” he replied giving me the look I know to be truly, genuinely honest… and pitiful.

Poor kid. All his life I have been feeding him every sandwich under the sun and yet I had only served him his favorite sandwich – favorite food – maybe once in his life.

What kind of mother am I?

So for his birthday…and the second time in his 8 years of life…. I made him a reuben sandwich.

Here’s how I did it:

First I buttered two slices of rye bread on a piece of wax paper.

Then I flipped them over.

And layered on the toppings.

Swiss cheese.

Shaved corned beef that I had purchased at the deli counter.

Sauerkraut which I rinsed and drained per my grandmother’s instructions… so it wouldn’t be too salty. I can’t even tell you whether or not this is a fact because I didn’t want to chance ruining a single sandwich.

A dollop of bottled Thousand Island Dressing, spread evenly over the sauerkraut. Not too much now!

Topped with another slice of swiss cheese and your other slice of bread, which is already buttered on the outside.

Transfer your sandwich to the griddle.

And grill until the cheeses are melted and the rye bread is golden brown.

Then serve it to your 8-year-old for his birthday.

Here’s the short version:

Rye Bread
Butter
Swiss Cheese
Corned Beef
Sauerkraut
Thousand Island Dressing

1. Take a slice of rye bread and butter one side, then turn it over, butter side down.

2. On the non-buttered side, layer swiss cheese, corned beef, sauerkraut, dressing and swiss cheese. Top with another slice of rye bread, buttered on the outside.

3. Grill both sides of the sandwich until golden brown.

8 Already? November 2, 2012

Today my middle child turned 8 and it’s all I can do not to grab him from his slumber and swaddle him in a baby blanket and rock him and sing him off-key lullabies until I go to sleep because honestly, I can hardly stand that he is another year older.

This kid never ceases to amaze me.

He practically came out of the womb speaking full, grammatically correct sentences in a strong, husky voice.

A voice that came in handy when he called out the quarterback commands during football season.

This football season, his first ever, he made 30 touchdowns.

I didn’t keep count of the tackles.

But as natural as he seems to be at football, baseball is his first love.

He is an avid outdoorsman.

A dedicated fisherman.

An adrenaline junkie.

And knitter.

In fact, on his birthday wish list, among the bass pro shop gift card, the guns, the fishing poles and the cowboy gear, he also requested knitting needles and yarn… any color, he said, except pink.

Pink might ruin his manly reputation.

I suppose swaddling might do the same.

Halloween 2012 November 1, 2012

Yesterday Drover was out late working up ground at our farmland just south of the Kansas border, leaving me to corral the kids for a night of trick-or-treating in our small town.

My youngest was a ninja.

My middle child was a ninja.

And my oldest, who’d outgrown his ninja costume, was a storm trooper.

My boys have been ninjas for 3 years now and they still haven’t tired of the costumes.

Neither have I.

It was our first year trick-or-treating in this small town and I must say, it far exceeded my expectations. The town was booming! There was a dunk tank along with a few Halloween themed carnival games and a car that seems to be haunted in this picture. Where’s the driver?

Kids were piled on trailers, in the back of trucks and even huddled in the back of SUV’s with the hatch wide open driving through town.

Cars, trucks and SUVs were lined up along main street, decorated in various themes for an entertaining trunk or treat.

At the end of the line of trunks, we happened upon a walk-through spook house, a first for my young braves. I couldn’t have asked for a better set-up to introduce my kids to spook houses. It was situated in one of the old downtown buildings, ushered by an old, long-haired woman.

The first room we came to was a vintage dimly lit dining room, the table draped with an antique linen tablecloth and set with a formal arrangement of elaborate utensils and layered plates, filled with gummy eyeballs and finger bread sticks. In the center was a creepy looking human head topped with spaghetti, situated on a silver platter.

It’s the scariest place my boys have ever been.

Unless you count the time I let my youngest drive my car.

Then it might be the second scariest place my boys have ever been.

After my little boys had taken in the eery dining room setting and just before we were about to move on, the head on the table let out a little “boo!” …enough to startle the boys and generate a few nervous laughs, but not so much that they would be scarred for the rest of their lives.

It was a fun spook house.

But what my boys enjoyed most were the houses that were decorated with inflatables, graveyards, spiders, and spooky Halloween lights. I’d like to think that if I ever had a house in town, my house would look something like these…

This house was their favorite.

Here, they each got a bag of candy, tattoos, glow-in-the-dark stickers, light sticks, silly string, juice packs, fun pads and small toys.

I’m pretty sure it will be the first house on the route next year.

This house had some really fun inflatables.

The picture doesn’t do it justice.

And this was the house that we had been watching in the days leading up to Halloween as spooky scenes were added daily.

When we got home, the boys sorted their candy based on size, variety, color, flavor, texture, sugar content, packaging, expiration date and edibility.

Then they carefully tallied their piles. Accounting for each and every piece of candy in their possession.

Making it next to impossible for a Mom to sneak candy after bedtime.

A Bed of Pansies October 31, 2012

Yesterday I picked up some deeply discounted pansies to dress up my front porch.

I’m sure Junior will lie on them.

Junior is a completely useless cat.

He has few wants.

Few needs.

And contributes little more than carbon dioxide to the good of the world.

But we love him nonetheless.

This bed of pansies I’m sure will be too much for him to resist. Hopefully his carbon dioxide contribution will be enough to compensate for the pansies’ inability to respire when he lies atop them.

There’s always hope.

Hope everyone has a safe and happy Halloween!