The New Year 2009

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At Microsoft Clip Art I typed in "World Peace." The search stated: "can't find it. No results were found matching World Peace." I chose three pieces of artwork instead: the globe in God's hands; a descending dove; and children holding up the world. None would upload.

Why the goat? We are in Capricorn: money, details, conservatism, determination. The goat takes tiny steps, keeps going and makes it to the top. It overcomes. So can we.

Best wishes for a great New Year.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

JESUS CHRIST

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The why in Christmas.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

WHAT TO FIX FOR CHRISTMAS?

A family Christmas tradition was the cracking of the nuts: three pounds of hazelnuts, walnuts, Brazil nuts and pecans. Pop. Crunch. Plop.
Chop 2 lbs. of pitted dates
Drain 8 ounces of cherries and chop
Lightly dust all with flour

Mix together 5 eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla
Add 1 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt

Combine with nut mixture using your hands to thoroughly mix. Bake in a lightly greased angel food pan or loaf pans at 325 degrees for 1 hour. Cooled, I cut it with an electric knife.

Rich and dense, I want to hide it and eat it all by myself. Instead, I slice off slivers for presents, and I am judicious about who gets them. If you haven't been blessed with it lately, don't feel bad, I haven't made it lately, and chances are slim I will. Remembering is calorie-free.

Maybe I should make Rusted Nuts, Southern for roasted. Pecans trees are plentiful in Mississippi. One Christmas we drove through the countryside and picked up a bag full of windfalls by the road. Private drives are covered with crushed pecans.

Sprinkle shelled pecans with garlic powder, Worchestershire, melted butter and salt. Stir until all are coated. Spread on a cookie sheet. Bake at 325 for 35 minutes or until crispy. While baking stir every ten minutes.

Corrie will get rice pudding. We could make gingerbread with chopped, fresh ginger; it makes the house smell alive, and is sumptuous with whipped cream. I could make Boston baked beans spiced with cloves for dinner, or we could do like the English and have them on toast for breakfast, on a baked potato at noon, and on pizza for evening. I'd have no friends.

Boston baked beans need steamed brown bread. They are a couple. The bread is made with cornmeal, rye flour, whole wheat flour, buttermilk, dark molasses, salt and baking soda. I lined my springform pan with foil, poured in the mix, turned to place it in the steaming pot on the stove, and the spring let go exploding the dough like a shotgun blast. The mess was horrific, and we were having guests for dinner. While I cleaned and started over, my husband ran to town for more molasses. Springform pans should be sold with duct tape.

May you have fun with your Christmas recipes. You are welcome to share them in comments.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

THANKS GIVING 2008

I hope you have a pleasant Thanksgiving. Making a list of what I am thankful for would take days. I'll just pick one something to expound upon: grapenuts in a box.

In my "experimental" days, I made soap, not out of necessity, out of novelty. Squatting on the ground, stirring an enamel dishpan of lye soap with a leg bone, I felt very pioneerish/Indianish. Bring on the drums.

Corncob jelly was another venture. The recipe: start with clean corncobs. Did they think I'd use any other kind? Where were they getting theirs? Boil them down and add sugar. It was clear, red and tasteless. I filled two half-pint jars and set them on the shelf for decoration. No one ever asked for a taste.

In 1898 Charles Post developed a natural cereal he called grapenuts. I love them. When I came across a recipe, I had to make some. Graham flour mixed with brown sugar, buttermilk, salt and soda was spread on a cookie sheet and baked at 375 degrees for 15 minutes, then cooled. I mounted the meat grinder on the picnic table--it was a nice day. I couldn't bend or break up the baked grapenuts. I found a mallet in the garage, wrapped a tea towel around it and whacked away. Sharp-edged pieces flew. The stubborn remainders made my hands sore trying to keep them in the grinder. My effort netted about half a cup. Disgusted, I nibbled a few and ditched the rest. And that, my friends, is why I am thankful for grapenuts in a box.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

ONE Noodle Soup

My grandmother, Mae, half my namesake, made noodles. I watched her roll the dough on a floured tea towel. With great care she cut narrow strips with her paring knife while Parkinson's messed with her coordination. I helped lay the uneven strips across the top rung of the back of the chairs to dry, or not, depending on the humidity. In a day or two they graced a chicken soup.

In my well-worn recipe box I found a recipe for Animal Noodles from Parents Magazine Dec. '69: 1 egg beaten, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 2 Tablespoons cream, 1 cup flour. Mix. Roll. Cut. My problem is my cookie cutter. It is a ghost large enough to put both hands through -- no pun intended. I would have to find a soup tureen to cook it in and make at least 20 cups of soup. I would need help: company. Do you want to come for ghost soup?

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Krysia Takes the Big Trip

Before I was married, or even thinking about it, I read about a Polish Dr. whose daughter's name was Krysia. I saved the name and gave it to my first-born 4-6-64. We pronounced it Kris-e-ah. Years later she said it is pronounced Krish-a, Kris for short. Mom was the last to know.

Preparing her memory board, we found her "First Class Scouting Award" -- give her a list and she accomplished mountains of work. Ballet, flute and Rock to Bach were favorites. She appreciated and defended animals. An avid reader she donated many of her books to the local library. In appreciation they gave her a gift certificate to Barnes & Noble. That's looking ahead. She loved instruction manuals, the "keys to the kingdom." A graduate of Wesleyan University with a BS in Business & Psychology, she worked in the family small business consulting firm.

When diagnosed with cancer in Aug. of 06, she did not buy the prediction she would live three weeks. She prepared to live, not die. Live she did, and defy further doomsday predictions of not making it to Christmas '06 or '07. She asked her Dr., "What have you got against Christmas?"

I brought her home as an invalid in Sep. 06. With the prayers of many and 24/7 care, she improved to feed herself, get out of bed, walk, climb stairs, shower, do her makeup, laundry, drive, and walk 15" on the elliptical at PT. You can see she was not a quitter. She told her Dr., "Until my relatives come and tell me it is time to go, I fight." They came Sep. 27, 2008. Timothy 4: 7 sums up her life: I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Her fighting spirit and sense of humor in the face of severe adversity were great achievements.

Kysia's dream to live and work in New Mexico was unfulfilled. She traveled from this dimension to the next to continue her healing and her journey, a trip we all will take sick or well. Comedian Red Fox said, "Those health nuts are going to feel mighty silly lying there dying of nothing."

I know death is an illusion. Her life goes on uninterrupted. She has a new body in Christ. But the tears still come, and without warning. The good news is: love connects hearts forever.

Praise and criticism came my way for giving my all and my everything to care for her -- I would have given my last breath. I loved her unconditionally, with abandon, as God loves me and everyone else: the good, the bad, the indifferent.

This is not goodbye, Krysia, I'll see you later. Love, Mom

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

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Mischievious as these two are, I'll bet they'll get the begeebees scared out of them tonight if they're in our yard. JB made a ghost. It isn't a Nantucket "set-stiller" that waits and spooks people who walk past. This one has a basket for a head covered with a white plastic bag. Strips of black electrical tape make slits for eyes and mouth. The shoulders stay straight with a piece of rake handle and my missing garden gloves attached to the ends. 2" board legs are secured with twist ties. The feet are sponges. Draped in blinking Christmas lights and attached by a rope, it hangs suspended from our Red Leaf Maple like a horse thief. JB intends to "drop it" near the unsuspecting. Beware.

Happy Halloween

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

PARAKEET MOON

Starbuck and T-Bird are fortunate to live with an "open door" policy. Freedom of movement not only increases independence, it encourages self-expression. And their home is mobile -- a 5th wheel currently parked in the shade in Lindsborg, Kansas.

Deborah is recovering from knee replacement surgery with PT and Emmi-T, part beagle, part angel, empathetic to the pain of necessary exercise. When Deborah cries so does Emmie.

Parakeet empathy might be harder to identify, but they are aware, talk alot, have opinions on everything, and are always good for a laugh. Living "on the edge," both like to dive bomb Emmie who knows they'd be just one bite, but she restrains herself. Luckily the birds are "behind bars" when Pastor and Deborah are away.

For thrills Starbuck flies through people's hair giving a whole new meaning to "teasing." Even looking down at T-Bird there's an illusion of looking up. His feathers are white, cloud-like, with a sky-blue underbelly. He chases the cursor at the top of the screen when Pastor Peter is at the computer. Whether dizzy or disturbed by Pastor's sermon work, without warning he moons him, a blue moon, no less. Who says parakeets have no sense of humor?

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

LABOR DAY 2008

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How are you celebrating? A parade? A party? Camping? Fishing? Boating? Biking? An amusement park?

We used to clean the school grounds and have a community picnic. It wasn't a picnic without scalloped corn, green beans with bacon, fried chicken, apple and peach pies. The adults cut the grass, picked up debris, swept and scrubbed while we tested the equipment. Dad looked at the swing and said, "Stay off. That pin will come out." Well, what did he know?

Two days later Lois asked me to pump. I loved to swing, and I couldn't refuse an upper classman. We were just sure we could get so high we could go all the way around. I pumped higher and higher until . . . oh, no, the pin came out. She lit on top of me on all fours, unhurt, but sprained. The swing seat broke my leg.

Grandpa and mother stopped canning pears to rush over. He made a barnwood splint. She tore up her apron. They put me in the car and took me to the hospital. All the way I begged, "Don't tell Dad. Please, don't tell Dad."

Whatever you do, have a safe and happy Labor Day that keeps you out of the Emergency Room.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Sun Followers

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I love how they wake up in the morning and face the sun in appreciation. All day they follow it across the sky. At noon they turn up to look it square in the eye. In the afternoon they bow their heads in thanks.

It's when they have soaked up all the sun and earth have to offer that they hang their heads in a final sunset. And wait. Wait for the gigantic and noisy guillotine. It's not a bad thing. They are glad to be, just be, bird and people food. A legacy of seeds will escape the header to sprout next year, and gardeners and farmers will plant more, perpetuating the circle of life.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Airlifting Apples

The kids are back in school. There's a cool undercurrent in the air. Crickets and locusts are sounding off. Summer is fading. Our neighbors shared their sauce and pie apples. I intend to make handpies of puff pastry filled with apples.

Working in my front office I noticed a couple of fallen apples in my yard and a squirrel trying to lift one up the tree backwards. A foot off the ground he lost his grip. After several tries he gave up. A bit of apple flavor must have touched his tongue because he stopped, picked up the apple and ate half of it. Half is a lot easier to hoist.

Apple halves lay in my yard one day and are gone the next. Did he haul them up the tree, or bury them? I won't know until spring. I'm just glad I got my apples before the squirrel did.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

A walk with Lincoln

We were far from his home and mine when we strolled the asphalt parkway along the Mississippi River northwest of the Twin Cities. Born at Lake Itasca, the River was still and in its adolescent stage. When it takes on the big boys, like the St. Crois, locks are needed to keep it and its gang in check.

Abraham Lincoln, our 16th President, will be 200 in 2009. At 6' 4" and 180 pounds in his early life, he looked like a pencil in a big hat. He has improved with age, is better looking, better fed, still chivalrous. A gentleman. Gentle man.

Never have I walked so with living history. The only sound the scuff of our shoes. Even the trees were silent, listening, eager to know. I had to ask, "So, Abe, tell me something about your childhood."

Anguished, he replied, "My mother died from milk disease when I was nine. The cows ate a weed that was poisonous and passed it through their milk. Others died too. I stood at her cold grave crying; I couldn't leave her there." We walked a spell in silence, mulling his predicament.

The River is outlined by woods on either side. Excited I asked, "Abe, could you help me build a raft? I could surprise JB. Can I get to Louisiana in a week?"

Recollecting his river memories, he frowned, "I think it's too many twist and turns for a week's journey." A foolish hope. A brief imagining of a long pole, a sack lunch, and adventure dissipated.

Eager to extract all I could from his memory bank, I proceeded, "Tell me something funny from back then."
In a grownup, tired voice he replied, "Well, I was walking down a dusty road one hot August day on my way to a trial, when a fellow driving a buggy happened along. I sure needed to get off my feet. I waved."
"Need a lift?" he asked with a smile.
"Could you take my coat to the next town, Sir?" I asked politely.
He took his hat off and scratched his head, "Yes, but how would you get it?"
"Why, I intend to be in it."

The walk ended too soon. But I must tell you, I met his wife. She is beautiful, kind, capable, accomplished, mentally sound. And the children are fine.

Lee Williams is an offical Abraham Lincoln presenter. The first time I saw him I noticed the natural resemblance. He speaks at schools and reenactments, and has presented in Dubai. You can contact him at abelincoln.org

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

The 4th Report

No goats roasted. Some folks toasted.

Host Ben is a river boat Captain and a master of Southern Hospitality who lives in the hills of Mississippi. In the shaded pasture near his house, Boston butts, barbecued ribs and chicken parts were grilled on a special-made king-sized double grill. Big families require big accommodations. The come-hither scent traveled throughout the acreage and into the house. About 100 people came with food in hand and healthy appetites.

Ed shucked pecans from their yard and made two delicious pecan pies. A neighbor made a two-layer chocolate cake presented on a pink Depression glass plate. Tina brought deviled eggs and beans. Ben's wife, Jimmy Nell, passed in '07. To include and honor her we dug out her '06 bread and butter pickles and pickled tomatoes.

Patty and I made potato salad, deviled eggs, doctored pork 'n beans, purple-hulled peas and cornbread. Brandi made coleslaw and her famous corn salad with all kinds of fresh veggies. Patty squeezed lemons and made two refrigerated lemon cream cheese pies. Bubbles brought an ice cream dessert. There were chocolate cupcakes frosted by a child who licked the edges before I noticed. Laughter could be heard in all quarters. Jimmy Nell would have been proud. Life is going on.

Meat goats, turkeys, a variety of small black and red chickens and a pair of Barbados black-belly, no wool sheep watched from a safe distance. I suspect the tropics affected their coats. They definitely weren't dressed for a Midwest winter. Feeling bold and safe with the grill cool, the goats came around at cleanup time expecting change-of-menu trash, but willing to eat the beer cans, if not. We made sure we didn't turn our backs on them. They can't resist a sneaky butt over the fence. What are they thinking? I know, a goat rodeo. They win.

Sunday we took Ben's pontoon boat out on man-made Enid Lake. In the distance I saw what looked like a forked campfire stick with a burnt marshmallow on top. A closer look revealed a dead tree sticking out of the water topped by an eagle's nest. The mother and two young did not want to be bothered. We didn't.

And I had my picture taken. Nobody will believe it. Sharon Osborn tells all before the media finds out. I'm not famous, but I'm telling before you hear it. Imagine this: I was sitting in the middle of the pontoon, the go between for cigarettes and beer. When I had one in each hand, I heard a click. For the record, neither touched my lips.

I hope you had an enjoyable 4th.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

July 4th, 2008 Fireworks & Fundamentals

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Our freedom to worship as we please, speak our mind, go where we please, become all we can be is what the United States of America is about. Democracy allows us the opportunity to be represented. I pray our United States of America stays united forever.

Over the 4th I'm going to Mississippi for a goat roast. And probably some goat rodeo, too. There's a story or two in the making.

I hope you have a safe, Happy 4th of July. God Bless.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

What did you say to make the bride cry?

I've known Jennifer since she was child. We talk often. She called when she met Darren, when they got engaged and kept me informed of their wedding plans. It was 300 miles away, but I really wanted to go.

Getting there was no big deal; I'm used to driving hundreds of miles a day. My "outfit" was the problem: dress, shoes, hose, purse, hair, lipstick, nails, tan, perfume, jewelry? Lamentations of Biblical proportions and slump-shouldered sighs left me clueless.

Krysia searched her closet and found a never-worn silk dress: pale blue/grey background with muted fuchsia and pale rust flower petals with self-fabric ruffles at the neck and diagonally on the front; fully lined with pale blue silk.Gorgeous. Up to now its life had been limited to decorating her closet suffering the snubs of the sturdy blue jeans. Nanner. Nanner. "Here, try this on."
Well, I knew it wouldn't fit. To humor her I slid it over my head and gasped. No only did it fit, it felt delicious, light weight, French. Pearls and a dab of Chanel #5, and I was set.

The groom's father, David, passed away recently leaving a collection of watches his wife graciously shared with family and friends. Just before the brides attendants entered, the groom, groomsmen and the Pastor pointed to their "David" watch to acknowledge his spirit presence. Timing. It was all about timing.

Each bridal attendant floated in tanned and coiffed wearing an electric blue gown with spaghetti straps. Two pre-school girls with flowers in their hair and in their basket shyly made their way to the altar scattering a petal here and there. The little boy carried the rings like a pro.

Everyone in their place, Henry Purcell's "Trumpet Tune" exploded from the organ. We rose and turned for "the grand entrance." The doors opened to Jennifer on her father's arm. Both were beaming; the happiest day of her life, and the proudest of her parents. Her halter top gown was an exquisite work of art beaded to below the waist of her full skirt and train. She glowed.

Pastor blessed and sealed their commitment for life. Forever. Jennifer and Darren lit the unity candle to cement their lives as man and wife, a single unit. An impenetrable gold circle formed around them.
Bride and groom greeted guests as they left the pew. I congratulated them. She didn't recognize me. It's been fifteen years. When I told her who I was she gasped, shuddered, grabbed me in a bear hug and burst into tears. Me too.

The people behind me were miffed they didn't get such a greeting. Throughout the reception people asked what I said to make the bride cry? Just my name.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Traveling Furniture

Ours has logged more miles than we have. Occasional furniture it's called. Occasionally we need it for a project or an illness. We move tables, chairs, benches, anything we can mange, from attic to main floor, to basement, garage, back into the house, up to the attic. Portables would be a better name.

Then there are those pieces that won't go away. A 3 x 4 oak library table has been in the office, garage, basement, for sale and is currently in the basement holding my Eiffel Tower clock.

Covered wagon travelers carried their most prized possessions as far as they could. Some made it all the way to Oregon. However, the trail was littered with what didn't: furniture, dishes, linens, musical instrument, tools, and books books books to name a few. An empty wagon would have been the way to travel.

I can tell Krysia is feeling better; her furniture is on the move.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

MAY 2008 MEMORIAL DAY

Each flag represents a fallen veteran from our community, Leonard and George included. Leonard shook his fist when he said, "Freedom is worth fighting for." He should know. He was drafted before WWII and came back when it was over: 4 years, 2 months and 27 days total.

My grandparents called Memorial Day Decoration Day, which it was until 1971 when Congress declared Memorial Day a national holiday. Decoration Day was declared May 30, 1868 to commemorate the sacrifices of Civil War Soldiers.

We decorate our graves with fresh peonies, if we have them. Cool weather can keep the buds from opening and makes the ants work harder. In nature everything has a purpose/job.

My ancestors came from Sweden and England to make a better life. Leonard's came from Moravia. They traveled by covered wagon, broke sod and built barns with pegs not nails. Their dead were buried in unmarked graves along the trails.

As I decorate and contemplate where family "rests," my late husband, Leonard, my parents, grandparents and Aunt Bobbe lived a total of 463 years. Methuselah lived more than 900 years. We are living longer than our ancestors. Do you want to live to be 100, or 150? If I could be assured I would look as good as I did at thirty and feel even better, I might. But what would we do with 40 or more years of retirement? Would we get everything done? Can we afford it?

Contemplate this: It's your 150th birthday. All your descendants come for the party, and the Fire Department, really. Don't worry about accommodations for sleeping, they won't. The problems will be parking, having enough food and toilet paper, and the neighbors. Better invite them too. And have a Happy Birthday!

I hope you have a pleasant and safe Memorial Day.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Mother's Day and Creeping Clocks

Happy Mother's Day to all who mother. It is sunny, windy and cold here in Nebraska. The windchill is thirty degrees. An old-wives tale says not to plant garden before May 15th.

Spring is showing off its colors. A profusion of fuchsia flowers explodes from the neighbor's redbud tree. Beside our front door our flowering crab is covered in white blooms sweet-scenting each inhale.

A couple of weeks ago we opened windows for the first time this year and heard cries for mulch from neglected landscaping. I moaned; inside work wasn't done. To do a "bag count," I had "to walk" the yard. Pre-school Aja saw me and came to help. I said it could be 100. She said, "I can do it." There isn't anything she thinks she can't do. After Simons' Lawn Service power-raked, she stomped over, "Did you know somebody was mowing your yard? Why didn't you ask me? I would have done it."

Menard's had a cypress mulch sale. I loaded my 4-door buick several times. Forty-two was the most a yard-man loaded and didn't obstruct a mirror. Great job. My car smelled like a Florida swamp.

For a minimum of handling, I unloaded the bags where I wanted them placed. To my surprise the neighbors offered to help. One took a small shovel to remove the weeds. I ripped the bags and the other one spread it -- twenty-eight bags worth. Their parents were shocked. You see, Aja is four and Ryker is six. What great neighbors.

Landscaped plants happily "tucked in," I am back working in the house with occasional weeding visits to the yard. Tomatoes won't be planted until next weekend. When we had a warm spell I shopped to update my phlox garden. The clerk frowned and said, "Creeping clocks?"

I looked at my creeping clocks garden and saw, you guessed it, a clock. It is completely surrounded by lavender phlox close to the ground. From 12 to 2 a shrub obstructs lunch and nap time. However, I think I'll get rid of the shrub; winter split it from a ball to a bowl.
The daffodils at 4 did their bit and have stepped back. 5 has an unusual gift that doesn't show up every year. I love its name: fritalari aliagris (phonetic spelling). Tickles the tongue, doesn't it. One to two-inch tulip-shaped checkerboard flowers hang from a short stem. This year the checks were maroon and cream.
Tulips and daffodils do their thing at 10. A pair of deep pink and one yellow tulip stand guard over break time. Large rocks and pebbles hold down the center. A few wild purple violets have popped up here and there painting happy reminders of childhood May baskets.

To Mother's everywhere: May you find the joy in little things; May you know your place is important in the larger scheme of life. God Bless.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Amber or honey?

A wee bottle sealed with brown paper lightly waxed takes up 7/8 of an inch of space on my windowsill. Together the glass and amber-colored contents weigh one ounce. Sunshine warms and melts it.

Amber is fossilized resin, or tree sap, the earth sat on for millions of years. Trapped bugs and nature's trash give it extra value. If you were by the Baltic Sea at ebb-tide, you might find chunks of amber washed up. Lithuaniams call it Lithuanian gold.

Empress Catherine's palace in St. Petersburg, Russia, features the "amber room." It is worth seeing: view it online. My amber-colored substance isn't likely to decorate anything more than a shelf.

Shopping at the open air market in Aswan, Egypt, my sister and I searched out an apothecary. The man behind the counter stepped out to assess her badly swollen feet. He gasped, shook his head and muttered to our guide in Egyptian. We asked for a remedy. Wearing a grave expression, he produced this tiny prepackaged bottle and said, "Rub it on her feet every day." Worried about his gloom and doom expression, we thanked him, paid in piastres and walked away. Being the ever curious fool that I am, I went back and asked what it was. "Liquified crocodile fat."

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

EASTER 2008

This week we cycled out of winter into spring and an early Easter. The weather is still March: warm one day, rain or snow the next. Mom would say Mother Nature is cleaning out her weather closet.

Crocuses that peaked through my front garden during the week are closed tight today--to stay warm, I suppose. Saying we had the last of last winter's something makes winter seem further behind us. It was a corker. Today is gloomy and cold. For lunch we had the last pieces of winter's gingerbread warmed and with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. I love the aroma. It feels substantial, insulating. We won't make it again until fall. When the weather warms we hunger for cucumbers, lighter meals, Greek olives and pasta dishes.

Tomorrow is Easter, Christians day to celebrate the Risen Christ. Imagine finding his tomb empty. Would you be afraid to tell anyone? Would you question your sanity? I saw them put him in. What would you do?

At Easter we acknowledge and celebrate God's gift of salvation for us. Read John 3:16. Whether you make a pilgrimage to a sacred place such as Knock, Ireland, southeast of Castlebar, or Mount St. Michel, France, or the Coptic Church in Cairo, Egypt, the Holy Land, your local church, or spend time with nature, I pray you open your heart and accept the unconditional love God has for you. Feel His love flow around, in and through you cleansing every cell, erasing doubt, fear, and mistakes.

If you don't already know the Lord, I suggest you contemplate Him. Invite Him into your world. Ask for His help. No problem is bigger than the Lord, and He wants the best for you. You won't find a better friend.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

HAPPY STAINT PATRICK'S DAY 2008

My dear friend, Frances, has taken the high road home. She lived long (93 yrs.) and went down easy. I called her "My favorite Nebraska farmer." She planted a couple of tomato plants at her apartment and loved giving away her roses. She said it made them bloom more. Each summer Sunday she took one to church for the altar.

She had a child-like curiosity about everything. Often she spoke of how she loved the "great mystery of life." Her laughter came quick and easy. I called her every week. When I was traveling and lost I told her I didn't know where I was, but this is what I see.

Fun to be around and positive to the core, people fought for her company. I think she was 93 going on 20. When times were tough she'd say, "The road will straighten out - eventually."

Her father was full-blooded Irish and taught her about the stars. St. Patrick's Day was a favorite holiday. She wore her green suit and favorite hat to celebrate. Her straight back, twinkly eyes and white hair swept up, gave her the appearance of European Royalty.

In Taste of Home I found an Irish recipe for meringue cups she would have liked. The baked meringue nest is topped with a mixture of eagle brand condensed milk, whipped cream and green food coloring. Topped with candied green cherries split to make a three-leaf clover and stem it celebrates the Irish symbol of the Trinity.

March 5th her body was laid to rest in an old cemetery south of Decatur, NE, but her spirit is limitless. She forever and always lives in our hearts and we in hers. I lift my cup to you, Frances. Thanks for everything and Happy Saint Patrick's Day.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Feb. 29th, Freaky Friday

I didn't know what to do with today. It was a bonus. I solved the problem by donating it to Africa. Colorful clothes came to mind. Wearing my red stretchy hair band, I felt slightly Native. It was the best I could do with blue jeans and a red gingham shirt.

In the "Jump Up and Kiss Me" cookbook I found a recipe for North African Lentil Stew. I love cooking with vitamin-rich kale. I peeled and chopped a butternut squash. The base was chopped onion, jalapenos and garlic sauteed in olive oil. Chili powder and ground cumin added the fire. Red lentils, chopped tomatoes and vegetable stock tied it together. Moroccan-Style whole Grain Couscous complimented and quieted the fire.

On the Couscous box, it says, "The Sultans of Marrakech knew how to party. In the countryside around the city walls, they built parks and pleasure palaces designed to set the scene for elaborate feasts and and other festivities. Menara Gardens is a legacy of that era, a place where modern-day Marrakechis come to stroll amid palm trees, olive groves, and roses, and to picnic on couscous and other Moroccan delights."

I raised my bowl in a toast to Africa, "Thank you for your gifts to our world. Grace and Peace to you." Digging in, I shut my eyes and am there. Delicate, olive-skinned young women, wearing tiny bells and carrying large trays of food, wait on handsome, turbaned Sultans seated on cushions in the tent. I smell curry and dates. White silk drapes flutter tickled by a silent breeze. The dry desert heat whisks the moisture from my body. The essence of roses mingles with citrus. Camels grumble in the distance. A custom-made emerald green Mercedes waits just beyond. Merriment and money, side by side.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

There has to be a triple nine in here.

Schatzie dreamed of spring and butterflies, woke up, and it was still winter. Bored, he played triominoes - with himself. Madchen, the obnoxious kitten, was too busy making mischief with the petals of the miniature rose plant. She would rather ski through the triominoes and see how many she could scatter. I call her a push-button cat. Touch her and she purrs.

copyright 2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Africa, Alaska & Australia

We were the country kids. I was painfully shy, awkward and resisted wearing jeans to high school. City kids didn't. "You will wear them," Mom said. "If the bus breaks down, you'll be glad you're warm." We did. It did. South of Colon we had to push it out of a snowbank. But we were warm!

Leona's husband, Richard, and Alice share the same birthday. Over Leroy's roast pork and wild rice and mushroom stuffing we shared our travels. A big-game hunter, Leroy and Alice travel to Africa each year. Alice said, "The Doma Safari Camp is about three hours out of Harare, Zimbabwe in the middle of nowhere. Electricity is generated for about two hours at sunrise and in the evening just long enough for meals. Staff launder our clothes daily and hang them out to dry. Each piece is flat-ironed and folded." Less luggage. Even better than wash 'n wear.

Leroy cooked cashews, raisins and carrots so small I thought they were fava beans. Delicious. Richard and I lived two miles apart as kids and never knew each other until high school. His family hatched thousands of chicks. And I thought two-hundred hogs a year was a lot of work. Richard and Leona visit their daughter in Sweden and have traveled to Alaska where the cabbage grows as big as bushel baskets.

While in Australia I witnessed a preservationist sharing his passion for saving the koalas while it soaked his suit. I wonder if he changed his mind about them. Leroy sent home two of his homemade cinnamon pecan rolls for breakfast. Mine didn't make it to daylight. Krysia loved hers. Alice, he is a keeper!

Leroy's cloud dessert was cream cheese sweetened with Splenda. Piled and mushed in the center it resembled Ireland, but wasn't green. He cooked blueberries sweetened with Splenda for the center. Yum! I ate mine slow.

Traveling tests our ability to adapt, overcome and improvise. Often times it's a huge hassle, but we love to learn, see and do and will keep traveling. Good food, good friends and talk of world travels made my day. Happy travels to you, too.

copyright 2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

I would rather be in Mexico!

We went to Mazatlan, Mexico, to escape weather like we had last week: below zero and unable to drive under the influence of blizzard. Lake Manawa, Iowa has fifteen inches of ice. That's reassuring for ice fishing, but takes muscle and time to auger through by hand. Today we're in the high thirties (degrees).

Late one Mexican afternoon we went in search of grilled seafood. Our restaurant of choice was packed. Over Mariachi music we asked how long we would have to wait. The server said, "No wait." He grabbed a table and set us up on the curb, literally. The high-backed chairs were so low the distance from plate to mouth was minimal. We ordered Mexican beer and grilled shrimp.

A brown-skinned mountain man walked toward us smiling. His teeth were perfect and blindingly white. He had a cloth bag over his shoulder. I can't help myself. I want to talk to most everyone. I smiled back. He stopped, opened his bag and crowded our table with carved Mexican ironwood reindeer and donkeys. I imagined eight reindeer with my mini-wicker sled on my dining room table. We had to buy. Patrons leaving the restaurant took one look at us and our menagerie and bust out laughing. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

copyright 2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Around the World on a Bowl of Stew

It's snowing out. Three to four inches expected. Dunking La Brea Pane Toscano in my homemade stewed tomato, cod and shrimp stew, I looked around my kitchen, the extent of my travels for the moment.

Framed hundred-year-old colored magazine prints from Hay-on-Wye, Wales, feature chickens. A pair of black and whites with hats hang opposite a pair of black and whites with feathered feet. I can hear the hen's gentle voice calling her chicks and the rooster's bellowing crow over his proud family.

The print of an outdoor Paris flower market at the end of the table fills my mind with scents of lillies and daises. I want to sit at the umbrella table, sip coffee and eat chocolate filled croissants - several. The horse drawing the buggy leaves its own aroma. The pigeons are drawn to the beauty and possibility of crumbs.

My Nantucket switchplate lookes like scrimshaw on whale bone. I think it's plastic. The whaling ship is standing still or I might get seasick just looking at it.

Three two-inch square Dutch tiles display windmills, a small sailing boat, typical miniature houses, marshes and water in shades of blue. The sky is musty grey. Nothing dries outside. We collapsed a clothesline trying. I appreciate the contribution the Dutch have made to the world through flowers.

There's a card on the table with Mississippi cardinals. Brandi says when you see a cardinal, make a secret wish.

I met Mae from Ireland in London at Harrod's fresh fish display. We marveled at the fresh fish nailed up in a sunburst pattern. She crocheted the tea cozy and sent it.

There's a miniature Mexican coastline mural on the wall complete with parasail reminding me of winter vacations spent in swim suit and caftan, cliff divers, table dancers, silver jewelry, too much fresh fruit, grilled seafood and lazy days. Aaaaaahhhhh.

The French espresso cups remind me of Paris - again. At every turn I found a warehouse of information. It was like coming home.

There's a Chinese calendar on the wall. I have yet to walk the Great Wall.

I lift my cup of Chai tea to travels of the past and those to come.

copyright 2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2008!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's colder than a well-digger's destination. Snow and ice linger to reinforce the frigid. Moments like this place a shadow of doubt on global warming. I received an email by an anonymous author that puts a twist on wishes for the new year.

May peace break into your house
May thieves come to steal your debts
May the pockets of your jeans be magnets for $100 bills
May love stick to your face like Vaseline
May laughter assault your lips
May your clothes smell of success like smoking tires
May happiness slap you across the face
May your tears be tears of joy
May the problems you had forget your home address

In simple words.....may 2008 be the best year of your life!!!!

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series