July 10, 2009

Dear Neighbor,

            I dreamed last night that I was attending the Air Force Academy.  I took my scrapbooking supplies and set up a table in the foyer so that I could get my book finished before in-processing, but I kept getting sidetracked.  I spilled raspberry juice all down the spine of my Book of Mormon and couldn’t find my room assignment, A-13. 

            I think this is how the dream spawned:

I dreamed last night that I was attending the Air Force Academy.

            I mistakenly thought I was fit enough for cadet life because I rode a bike downhill for 15 miles and could still walk the next day.  On the 4^th of July, we all met at the Idaho-Montana border to ride the Hiawatha bike trail.  It’s an old railroad grade with more than a half a dozen trestles and tunnels.  It is magnificent and I might repeat, all downhill.  It is a weak-legged, weak-lunged biker’s dream.

            Ty reentered the Air Force Academy this week and spent the last week packing uniforms, books and paraphernalia.  Because all of our bedrooms were full with other children when Ty came home from his mission, his bedroom was the living room.  We spent the week weaving amongst his belongings while preparing for Abe and Grace’s wedding.  Because both events were momentous I didn’t want to mar the time together by worrying about mess; hence we lived in utter chaos for a few weeks.  Chaos makes for crazy dreams and me attending the Air Force Academy would qualify as crazy.

I took my scrapbooking supplies and set up a table in the foyer so that I could get my book done before in-processing, but I kept getting sidetracked. 

            There have been so many beautiful pictures taken and so many wonderful memories created this week that several times I thought, “I’ve got to get this down before we forget it” or “Oh my, this would make a good layout” and then quickly get busy visiting, cooking, ironing or trying to help find something that was missing (my family thinks I am the cause for all things missing).  Here are a half a dozen of those memories:

Abe continuing the family tradition of carving (he’s drawing it first in this picture) his and Grace’s name inside a heart on the tree in the front yard.

A backyard game of golf.  Calvin has turned our few acre lawn into a

golf course, complete with greens, cups and little flags.

A beautiful bride on a beautiful day in a beautiful place.

I don’t believe I’ve ever worn pink in my life . . . not even when I was a baby. 

Who knew I’d like it?

Ty and Calvin fixing Taiwanese food for supper. 

One thing Ty made sure he brought home from Taiwan was cookbooks. 

Hiawatha Trail 2009.  The only way to ride a bike . . . downhill.

One of the perks of  the last few weeks was working together. 

Cali has cake balls down to an art now.

After observing Ande during one of the wedding receptions, an old friend remarked, “By golly, she’s Carol Burnett!”  She does have some funny antics and makes life fun.

I spilled raspberry juice all down the spine of my Book of Mormon . . .

            Abe and Grace used sparkling grape juice for their toasts at their wedding dinners.  At the reception that was held in Washington, the juice was deep purple.  Traditionally, toasts were instituted so that as you struck the goblet of the person next to you, a bit of your drink slopped into his cup and a bit of his drink slopped into your cup thus insuring neither of you tried to poison the other.  Toasts are used in military festivities today to build camaraderie, and because of Abe’s involvement in the military our family has adopted the fun tradition at weddings, Christmas Eve dinners, etc.  As Abe and Grace initiated the toasts I hoped Abe wouldn’t clink Grace’s cup too hard and spill the grape juice down her beautiful dress leaving a stream of purple on the white.  It would have been a shame, especially since purple was not one of their colors.

            Or, the dream may have come because I haven’t been reading the scriptures faithfully for the last month with all of the comings and goings and I need the peace and strength that comes from starting the day with scripture study. 

            Or it could be because several friends made cakes and displayed them on a cake pedestal in the center of each table for one of the wedding dinners.  I made a cake roll with a strawberry/cream cheese center.  While I made it I wished our raspberries were ripe so that I could have used those instead.   Ande made two chocolate cakes with strawberries in the center of the cakes.  The berries kept sliding out and so she and Cali dubbed them the volcano cakes.  Berries.  Berries.  Berries.  They were oozing everywhere.

. . . and couldn’t find my room, A-13

            While Abe attended West Point he was in company A at one point, and though in my dream I was in the Air Force at Colorado Springs 2,000 miles away, I hoped Abe and I would be rooming in the same barracks so I kept looking for him.  (Dreams have a wonderful way of overlooking the trivial details of space, time and protocol.)

            Yesterday after Abe and Grace opened their wedding gifts it was time to say good-bye as they left for their honeymoon.  After their honeymoon, Abe leaves for training in Georgia and Kentucky with a deployment to Iraq next spring.  As we hugged good-bye, the tears got squeezed out.  I had every intention of keeping them inside so I wouldn’t make a mess, but when Calvin squeezed Abe’s out of him and Abe squeezed Calvin’s out of him, well it didn’t take much squeezing for mine to run all over the place.

            I had no idea 24 years ago when the doctor put Abe in my arms that I would become so attached.  No idea.     

            Or, it could be because my childhood friend’s name is Anita and her birthday is on July 13^th.  It’s a stretch, but perhaps A-13 comes from her.  I’ll put a birthday card in the mail today just in case.

            Or maybe that dream simply came because we have had a wonderful time and I just wanted to relive it and my brain got some of it scrambled.

Tip of the Week

            “Come what may and love it.”

Recipe of the Week

            I’ve never been one not to share recipes; it would be like not smiling at someone.  And I’ve learned if I’ve got something good, one sure way to make it better is to share it.  Except this recipe.  I just got it.  I’ve wanted it for a very long time and I briefly considered hording it so that I could have a silver bullet in my pocket.  And then . . . and then . . . well, it occurred to me that you could all use a silver bullet too, and where would I be if my sister-in-law, Krista, had not shared her silver bullet with me?  Shame on me for even thinking of holding out and not sharing it, but I do have a favor to ask you.  We have used this salad dressing for three wedding dinners in the last six months and we still have two more weddings (Ty and Ande) to pull off in the next few years so please don’t get tired of it because I grant you we’ll be serving it again.

Spinach Salad Dressing

¾ Tbs poppy seeds

1/3 cup white vinegar

¾ cup oil

1/3 cup sugar

1 Tbs grated red onion

¾ tsp salt

2 Tbs prepared mustard

Spinach Salad

1 head lettuce

1 bunch spinach

¾ lb. sliced mushrooms

½ lb. bacon, cooked and crumbled

¾ lb grated Swiss cheese

1 cup mandarin oranges, drained

1 red onion sliced thin

½ cup slivered almonds

3 Tbs sugar

Cook sugar and almonds over low heat until light brown.  Mix first five ingredients; sprinkle almonds, bacon and oranges on top and drizzle with dressing.

Letter from the Trunk

And thank goodness, through the last few weeks when I was a very poor pen-pal, Rachel kept writing and kept me company . . .

Dear Jane,

            I was very productive today.  This morning I got up to walk my three miles, at six o'clock.  I leave at six and it's already 85 degrees.  When I got back Hydn was still sleeping so I got the weed/grass spray mixed up and walked the perimeter.  Then I made up another batch and did around all the trees and the grass.  I did it two months ago, but it all needed it again.  I was soaked.  Plastered with sweat.  The thought came to me that a 'wet t-shirt' contest was not the brainchild of somebody who had a bucket poured on them, or even from swimming.  It was simply because a woman walked out her door in the South one summer, and 'presto', new contest.  It takes no effort at all for me to soak through my shirt.  The birds were definitely chirping "it's too damn hot" today.

            Speaking of birds...  I heard a funny call today on my walk.  It sounded like a lone bird was out there playing 'Pit' and nobody would trade with him because they knew he had the bear.  He called, “Three..................Three........................threethreethreethreeTHREE."  It made me laugh. I hollered back, "Five!" He shut up. I was sad the game was over so quickly.  

Love,

Rachel

            I hope you have a great week.  I will.  I turn 47 and that adds up to eleven and eleven is a lucky number in our family. 

            Till next Friday, your neighbor—

                                                                        Jane