Date Balls

MMMH I love Christmas baking. I actually like the planning, creating, baking part more than the eating part. Seriously. Maybe b/c every time I eat one I have Dietitian-induced guilt. It's almost more of a pleasure to make and give away- or to sit and watch Mark devour the treats and make happy noises. When I eat them, I hear noises too- a noise like a balloon expanding.

In the spirit of Christmas goodies- I thought I would share a favorite. This recipe has been around awhile. These date balls are made by my Mema and my Momma, and now me :)

Yes these are the real ingredients. Butter, sugar....sigh. Good thing Christmas comes once a year!

Date Balls

2 sticks of butter

1c sugar

1 c brown sugar

2 tsp vanilla

1 # chopped dates (I buy the prechopped ones- no need to be a martyr)

Melt butter in a heavy pot. Think LOW and SLOW. Stir in sugars, vanilla and dates. Melt LOW and SLOW until gooey perfection is reached. No, I don't know what temperature the sugar should be. Make them every year and you will just know.

Remove from heat.

Add 2 c chopped pecans (preferably from Georgia) and 4 c Rice Krispies. Stir. Let cool in fridge about 20-30 mins until cool enough to handle.

Add powdered sugar to gallon zip lock bag. Use teaspoon to help you roll krispies into 1" balls. Drop into powdered sugar and shake.

Save in air tight container.

Enjoy!!!!!

silk monster

ok. i can explain the title. ever heard of "pet names"? You know, those annoying names couples call each other (i'm so guilty of this)? or the noises that come out of us when we see cute babies or tiny zoo animals? things like..."goooogly bear!"(from Monsters, Inc.)

well, meet Roscoe P Coltrane. My dogson. Our 10 lb mini dachshund. Sometimes he gets addressed as his given name. Most of the time, he gets called by a pet name. And since he is the cutest dog in the history of all time, he has lots of them.

Roscinator: roscoe +terminator. bc he has exterminated 2 rabbits and 1 mole, so far

Silk monster: from his incredibly silky ears and sometimes he is a monster. and you have to say it like "sillllllk mooonnnstterrr" in a really soft, almost creepy voice

turd tube: he is shaped like a tube. and he poops a lot. outside thankfully. (sorry mom)

tiny/tiny dog: because he is very small (10" high x 32"long)

pooper/poopaloop/pooptastic/poopmonster/poopie: self explanatory (sorry mom)

FLD: funny looking dog

longdogbarksalot: we have fun coming up with "indian names" to describe him

fatty mcfaterson: Roscoe has gained 1 whole pound (10% of his total body wt) in about 6 months since he got neutered

licky mclickerson: he licks our feet a lot

babito: this is my mom's nickname for her granddog

walnut brain: bc that's probably how big it is and he doesn't always use even that much of it

what do you call your spouse/cute baby/child/pet?

the dreaded christmas picture

i am not from a normal family. or maybe, i am from one of the last normal families? what's normal, anyways? Anyways, my mom LOVES Christmas cards. She and my dad have been making the annual fruitcake (another post, another day), taking the annual picture, and mailing the "Harbin's Christmas Letter" for over 30 years. 30 YEARS, people.

So, needless to say I am well acquainted with this activity. First, my participation was involuntary. From birth through at least middle school I participated with little resistance. As evidenced by pictures of us in MATCHING flannel nightgowns, posing on the staircase. Or sitting on a bale of hay with all 6 of us in - you guessed it- matching overalls. As self awareness grew as it usually does in middle and high school, it became much more of an emotional process. I can hear us now (all four kids) " you want me to wear WHAT? THAT?! WHEN? for the Christmas letter?!?" It was hard enough to get 4 teenagers in the same room at the same time, much less matching. Hard like herding rabid cats. So mom wisely gave up on the matching and settled for all of us in the room at the same time.

Why is it SO HARD to get 6 people in the same room, near each other, looking at the camera, all with crest smiles at the same time? We had friends take the picture, professionals, boyfriends- whoever- and it was always the same. 5 people would have the picture nailed and 1 person would blink. or look away. or look cross eyed. or their smile looked more like a mug shot. You could count on it like, well, death and taxes. Then there was the aftermath. Pouring over the pictures to find one suitable enough to send to 590689 of mom and dad's closest friends. Finally after much debate, a picture was selected.....590689 were printed at Walgreens and mailed out with the letter (again, another post).

One would think that after years of this, the farthest thing from my mind would be a "family picture" with my own husband. NOPE. It must be ingrained in me SO DEEP that I do it naturally. Our very first Christmas picture was a breeze- go through the wedding pics, find a great one, mail it out. Mark didn't feel a thing. Christmas #2 not so bad either, I found a great candid of us at a wedding lookin' fancy. This is the easy way! Even Christmas #3 was fairly painless- pictures of a deployment homecoming always tend to turn out well (pure emotion, I guess). Slap one of those on a pre done template from Mac and one-touch ordering and I was done. I began to imagine a life free of the awkward matching family pictures (come one- you know the ones I'm talking about)

But. not. this. year. I guess we have a few ok pictures- Mark was gone a lot this summer on deployment when I was looking the most tan and attractive so no pics then. Then we moved. So that threw us in a tail spin. And then I realized- heck - I need to send my cards out early so everyone can have our address!!! (bc I am a chip off the block and I too LOVE Christmas Cards!!! Don't want someone not having our new address as an excuse! NO SIR!).....but, wait! we don't have a good enough picture.

So here I am, the ironing is done. the plaid shirts laid out on the bed. getting ready to hop in the shower, then curl my hair which I never do, and go attempt to take the CHRISTMAS PICTURE. with a grown man and a 9lb dachshund both of who I'm pretty sure hate having their picture taken.

wish me luck. Can't have nothin' nice.

(Mis) Adventures in Hiking...

So, let me give you an example of "Can't Have Nothin' Nice"

My husband Mark LOVES the outdoors- hike-the-Appalachian-Trail-and-sleep-in-an-abandoned-barn-loves the outdoors. My version of the outdoors involves making sure there is enough ice to keep the shrimp cocktail and bourbon cool until we get to the tailgate. So you can imagine his surprise and delight when after looking at a friends awesome FB pics of hiking, I suggested we find a little state park and hike on Sunday afternoon. You know the kind, a gentle 2-3 miler while enjoying the fall foliage kinda hike.

We googled around on the internet and found a nice state park with a big lake and some trails about 15 mins from our house. Mark ran around gathering boots, backpack, flashlights?, snacks and water bottles. I changed into old jeans and sneakers and we were off....kinda late in the afternoon. 3:30 doesn't seem that late when the sun is blazing overhead, lighting up the beautiful hardwoods with their electric greens, yellows and reds.

We got to the park, paid on the honor system, put Roscoe the dachshund on a long leash and headed to the trail. The 7.5 mile loop around the lake. In the back of my mind, I thought, huh, kinda a long hike considering how early it gets dark these days.....but I didn't want to ruin Mark's outdoor adventure.

We started out at a good clip, walking along, laughing and talking- ooohing and ahhhing over the beautiful forest. I was almost feeling like, "I can DO this!! I am ADVENTUREGIRL!!" We took pics of Roscoe, stopped to look up at the light filtering through the trees....we thought we had gone at LEAST 3-4 miles when we saw a sign post. It said 5.5 miles (we unknowingly started out backwards and it was counting DOWN from 7.5) ...ok so we have only gone 2 miles. And the light was starting to get a little weaker, the air a little cooler. "Huh", Mark said, "we ought to walk faster"...so we did.

We passed another sign post...4 miles... 3.75 miles. Then we passed another hiker on the trail going the other way and he ominously said, "you gonna keep going?...(yea) ..well it's gonna be really dark... Good Luck." GOOD LUCK? What in the world?! At that point the sun was REALLY setting and we were exactly half way around. Either direction was 3.75 miles back to the car. I asked Mark, "do you have the flashlight?" Hmmm...Nope. Left it in the car. Awesome. Suddenly I had visions of the show "I shouldn't be alive" flash through my head. What started out as our nature hike suddenly got a little less fun. Can't have nothin' nice.

Mark looked at me and said, "We need to run." And we took off. Running down the trail in jeans, boots and fleeces. Not exactly prepared for this activity. But also not prepared to lose the trail in the dark and be hanging out in the Maryland woods all ngiht (I am no longer feeling like ADVENTUREGIRL at this point). Running along, watching the mile markers countdown was the only thing that kept me going. 3.5 miles, 3.25 miles...2.75 miles... 2 miles...1.5 miles...by this time I was about to die. Not much of a runner (EVER), much less in jeans, scared to death, in the dark. Then I heard the howling and barking in the distance. I'm sure it was just some farmers dogs barking, right? Whatever. I kept running.

The last 0.5 mile was the longest. Knees burning, sweating like crazy, we made it! Oh blessed crunch of gravel under our feet!! We saw the parking lot! Our car (and the flashlight) waiting for us up ahead. Collapsing in the car, laughing and tired, our adventure was over.

Next time, we decided, we would start earlier in the day. Can't have nothin' nice.

the beginning

OK, ok. I broke down and joined the blogging club. I have put it off and put it off, saying "I'm not a blogger!" and "what do I have to write about?" or "who would read it??"... but after enjoying my friends blogs for years I noticed one thing they all had in common. Memories.

Blogs are the new diaries- the newest ways to scratch messages on rock walls. Macs and keystrokes have replaced pen and ink, but the motivation is the same. People have the need to record their lives (cave paintings, anyone?) and now I feel the same tug.

So, here it is. Good or bad, for what its worth. I'm going to scratch my message on my rock wall.