Real snow.

That's right, we finally got some honest to goodness, sticks to the ground snow and the kids were in heaven. Of course, the whole area shut down but thankfully it was the weekend. So after the obligatory city-wide stocking up on bread, milk and toilet paper, everyone hunkered down to watch the news about *gasp!* that big 'ol nasty snowstorm. Oh and did I mention we got about 6"? Yeah, we're rookies, what can I say.




One of my front door neighbors. Somewhere in between those front bushes is my driveway and out there is the road as well. No, our roads do not get plowed for you Northerners. The city just takes care of the highways and assumes everyone will actually listen (not) when they say to stay home and off the roads. Matter of fact, it's like Florida and the hurricanes all over again.




We quickly bundled up both boys and shooed them outside to enjoy the snow. Unfortunately the mittens we keep around here were gone, likely due to the last time certain children were playing superhero. I figured they would be okay for a shorter while but no, after 10 minutes both kids were begging to come inside. So what's a good sewing mom to do but make up a quick and dirty pair. I pulled some fleece out and cut out rough mitten shapes then tapered the wrists (no elastic even!) then zig zagged them together. Fifteen minutes later the boys were back in action.






You can tell we're not used to this weather. No snowpants, they're wearing sneakers and their quick and dirty mittens. They loved it though, cruddy weather gear and all.

Pure unadulterated craving.

I was perusing Google Reader the other day and came across Alicia's post regarding Soulemama's WHO bread. I shelved the idea for another day until later in the day I came across another blog mentioning the same bread and the words, "honey butter". Helllllooo gorgeous. All I could see was the bread baked up into slightly overproofed, yeasty buns of goodness and slathered with homemade honey butter. You'd better believe I got right on it.




Oh come on, I can't be the only one who's ever wanted to make a meal of the warm basket of yeast rolls and honey butter on the table at a restaurant. No step by step for this post but I did make several changes to the method. I mixed up the dough like a traditional bread dough so yes, mix, knead, proof, proof. Except before the final proof I shaped them into golf ball sized buns and let them rise for almost an hour. Yum, wheat, honey and oats. Brushed with butter as soon as they came out of the oven.






Of course, what is a good yeast roll but a vehicle for honey butter. I slathered some on.




Then my oldest requested ham on his and I gave it a try on mine. Sheer bliss.

Yes, I can memorize lyrics too.

I'm one of those annoying people that does not hear lyrics. I hear riffs, I hear rhythm (even if I can't dance to it) and melody. So of course I must fill in the blanks and I do so, and like most lyric bunglers I do it with surety of tongue. That's right people, I sing it wrong and sing it loud. Don't even try to tell me the right lyrics, once I've got my lyrics in my head there's no changing or reprogramming. Believe me, people who love me have tried over and over. I'm not even going to tell you what I sing to Robert Palmer's "Addicted To Love" but let's just say that when I finally looked up the real lyrics one day I cringed.

But people, there's hope! I've been listening to this Lady Antebellum song for the last couple of months and love it. Best of all I've got the lyrics straight and I sing them full voice, in the car, where I can force my children to listen to me now massacre melody instead of lyrics. See, momma's youthful soprano evaporated with lack of practice and adulthood. Please enjoy this video (even though it is a little hokey) and thank your lucky stars that you're hearing the real Lady Antebellum and not moi.
You're welcome.

Lady Antebellum More CMT Music More CMT Music Videos

A moment in time.

I love how a picture can freeze time. The boys had asked to play a game and I told them to go take it to my room in order to protect it from their sister's hands. So they set up on the trunk and were so quiet I just had to investigate.



Quiet a sweet scene wouldn't you say? Except that moms know their kids and I know mine all too well. That six year old? Text book case of a competitive streak that starts during the fifth year and only intensifies with the sixth. Must win at all costs but he actually wants to play the game in order to do so. The four year old? Could not care less that there are actual rules to the game. His sole purpose to amass as many of those cool cards as possible, not necessarily by the book. A conflict in their views? You bet. Not five minutes after I'd left the room with that serene scene imprinted into my mind and a satisfied smile on my face I heard struggle.

Walked in to the four year old about to literally throttle his older brother for what I'm sure was the lack of shared vision and too little words. Sigh. Peace between siblings is quite fleeting.

Why don't I do swaps more often?

Oh yeah, that lack of attention span problem of mine. I could totally handle one or two but any more and well, the house would go to heck in a handbasket while the kids would take advantage of momma's distraction. But it's oh so much fun to open a package intended only for me.

After sending out my recipient's swap package, this week I received my own. Joy, joy, joy! Look at this adorable little pincushion. Now, you did read before how I can't really do pincushions with too many small kids but I'll gladly make an exception for this one. It's a teacup pincushion. Nice and sturdy, easy to tote around and most of all absolutely adorable.




Then I noticed the pins! A garden full of shrinky dink flower head pins filled the pincushion. There's only one problem with so much cuteness.




Kids love cuteness and mine have adopted the teacup pincushion. They've spent a good bit of time rearranging the flowers to look just so and each child has their own idea of what is "just so". Of course, anything that entertains them while I'm sewing just means - more sewing.




But wait, there was something else in my box. My swap partner is into anything vintage and generously shared some vintage goodies with me. This tin is gorgeous and practical (with a hinged lid) all on its own.




Yet she filled it with pattern weights (in the front) and vintage spools of thread (back). The pattern weights are definitely a blessing. Before this I owned only four weights and was at the mercy of both my memory and my kids' stashing abilities when it came time to locate them.




Then she bowled me over with this beauty. A beautiful and generously sized bag that will become my knitting bag. Since my bag is usually hanging on a doorknob or thrown somewhere in the living room it may as well look pretty.






Swoon, and it reversible. Dangerous territory for a person who has a hard time choosing what to make for dinner but choices can be good.

Frustration, brought to you by the color blue.

Warning, if you're a little OCD or lean to the perfectionist side the following pictures might be a bit too unsettling.

This is how the neck binding around little girl's shirt is supposed to look. Tidy rows of stitching and a neckline that lays flat.




When it doesn't turn out that way because say, oh you forgot to take off the piece of tape you usually use to mark your pattern pieces and stitched it into the binding then you have to rip it out. Yeah not pretty especially since the binding has three rows of stitching (one hidden on the inside). Want to know what adds insult to injury? I used the triple stretch stitch. If you're familiar with this stitch you know that each little stitch is actually three (one forward, one back, one forward) which makes it exceedingly fun (not) to rip out.




So I tried hacking at it from the back sacrificing the binding strip but it was a no go. I figured my sanity was worth cutting out a brand new front piece and a brand new binding strip.




Ahhh there, much better.

Meet our starter children.

Yes, the furkids, our four legged therapy, what have you. For some reason Mr. Maricucu and I ended up with three dogs way before we had kids. Yes we were crazy but there was a good reason (at the moment) for each additional dog. First, let me admit that I grew up terrified of dogs. My mom was terrified of dogs and even my grandmother so this was definitely a multigenerational thing. The only dog I ever pet before I was 18 years old was my uncle's black lab who was so old the poor thing would let us kids ride him bareback just to not put up a fuss. So what happened at 18? Well my mother got a case of early empty nest syndrome. By that time she no longer had any babies and someone that had taken in a chihuahua, suddenly couldn't take care of Kathy. So my mom (you know the woman supposedly terrified of dogs) offered to adopt her. Kathy hit the canine jackpot. My mom, my grandmother and now three almost grown kids all doting on her. Flitting from lap to lap and becoming my mom's pseudo baby. So we grew a little more comfortable around dogs.




Then I married Mr. Maricucu, a dog person. He grew up around dogs, lived with dogs as an adult and just loved them. We both knew we'd end up getting a dog, the timing was just an issue. When we first married we were living in an apartment and both working full time but one evening we both decided to do a little searching on one of the rescue web sites. Word of warning, you never just "go look at dogs". You just don't. You always end up finding one you absolutely fall in love with and then it's all downhill from there. We saw Charlie's picture and there was no turning back. He was a beagle/hound/unknown mix, around 2 1/2 years old at the time and was found roaming a construction site. The construction workers had taken to feeding him until finally one of the local rescue volunteers picked him up and nursed him back to health. We had to go to the volunteer's home to see if Charlie liked us (yes an interview) and from there she visited our apartment to check things out. Charlie was so skittish. It seems he suffered some form of abuse since my husband just reading and rattling the newspaper would send him nervously to another room. In a few months when our lease was up we rented a home with a fenced backyard and moved with Charlie.

Then like most dog owners we realized Charlie needed a companion and we began the interview process for another dog. A young couple had a large lab puppy up for adoption that they could no longer keep. We observed both dogs playing together but quickly realized that poor submissive Charlie would not do well with such a large and active puppy. We kept looking. One day as we were walking our local fleamarket we saw a very obvious accidental litter of puppies up for grabs. All beagle/terrier mix puppies, half were furry as poodles and the other half smooth as labs. Mr. Maricucu and I again fell prey to the heartstrings and ended up coming home with a six week old Lucy. Charlie seemed to be okay with this new little pest but he seemed less than impressed. He'd nose her onto his bed while she just wanted to nip at his tail and hind legs. I could tell the look in his eyes said, "why would you bring home this thing?" But she grew up, they played together and kept each other company in the backyard during the day. Yes, Lucy never really gave up pestering or bossing Charlie around. Somehow she thinks she's the alpha dog and Charlie doesn't seem to have it in him to put up a fight.




Wish I could say that was the end of the story but no, we once again fell for another dog. Unintentionally of course, but isn't that always the case? A couple of years after adopting Lucy a coworker of mine sent out an email with a picture of the most adorable little poodle mix puppy and I, in jest, forwarded it to Mr. Maricucu with an "aww look at this puppy". He responded, "When can we go see her?" Oh boy. So off we went to go see another dog and yes, that same afternoon we came home with Emma, a six week old poodle/beagle puppy.



Lucy and Emma were all over each other once Lucy laid down the law that she was in charge. Emma, being all frenetic puppy, didn't really care so they got along just fine. Charlie was just thrilled that there was someone to entertain Lucy. All in all, these three dogs of ours were getting along swimmingly. Then, we had kids and while the dogs were not enthused by the grabby baby stage (fear not we gave the dogs gated space away from babies during that stage), they grew to put up with the kids. We had a good 9 year run with the dogs and the kids. Unfortunately we had to rehome Emma last year. Long story short but after countless attempts at keeping her safely enclosed in our home and in our fenced backyard Miss Houdini would escape in 2 minutes flat only to roam the neighborhood, bark at other dogs and return all matted with mud. We feared she would either a) get hurt or worse killed or b) she would get aggressive and try to bite someone. We were not comfortable with either scenario so after almost a year we found Emma a fabulous home, much like my mom's home suited Kathy. She is now a beloved lap dog to a semi-retired couple who can keep her mostly indoors, loved and most of all safe.

So now the head count is down to Charlie (11 years old), Lucy (about 8 years old) and the soon to be four children. The dogs are still loved, although by a much rowdier gang and they alternate between scaring off squirrels in the backyard and barking at the mailman from inside the house. I get sad when I think of the inevitable day that something may happen to one of them and how the kids but most of all how Mr. Maricucu will take it. Just having to rehome Emma was difficult, he was very sad to see her go. The other dogs whined and looked for her for weeks while the kids still ask about Emma as if to see if the story has changed. I can't imagine what it will be like when one of them passes away. In the meantime we enjoy our crazy household of dogs and children that most days will have me grumbling but not all days. Some days are quite nice.

Lessons learned: Potty training is nothing compared to housebreaking a dog. Nothing I tell you.
Chasing a couple of dogs down the street after work and in four inch heels is not fun.
Neither is finding your dirty laundry chewed up ( because ewww, what is it with dogs and underwear?)
Dogs listen way more than children. 'Nuff said.

Breakfast of champions?

More like breakfast for those of us non-morning people who stumble out of the shower still with one eye open and the other closed. I'm not a morning person or a breakfast person but I'm a terribly cranky person when I miss a meal. So the other day while pondering my choices I topped some whole wheat toast with mesclun and drizzled that with a bit of olive oil/salt/pepper. Then I cooked a couple of eggs with a still soft yolk and plenty of fresh cracked pepper. The greens wilted under the hot eggs and tasted faintly of asparagus, which I love. Definitely hit the spot and I'm going to repeat this breakfast often.

Whoopie Pies

So you're in one of two camps after reading that title, 1) Ooohh yes, I had one at a gas station in Pennsylvania and haven't been able to find them since. or 2) Umm, is this some kind of weird variation on the whoopie cushion?




Ahhh, whoopie pies. I don't remember how I first heard of whoopie pies. I haven't been up north since I was a kid and I have about as much Amish in me as Jennifer Lopez (which is zilch). All I know is that at some point I tasted a very poor commercial attempt at this dessert and was obsessed with tracking down a recipe ever since. Leave it to the rabid cooks at America's Test Kitchen to do the grunt work for me. Cookie shaped large rounds of dense chocolate cake filled with a light vanilla cream.

The original recipe uses a 1/3 cup ice cream scoop and makes huge whoopie pies. I think they are about 6" across. Even cutting them in half they are a bit much. I've switched over to using this #20 disher that dispenses 3 tablespoons of batter and makes a much more reasonable sized whoopie pie. Whatever you use to dole out the batter, use the same measure to dole out the filling. Yes, that means you'll have to wash it out after scooping the batter. Sigh, the sacrifice is worth it.


Whoopie Pies
via Cook's Illustrated

Cake Batter:
2 c all-purpose flour
1/2 c Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp table salt
1 c packed light brown sugar
8 tbsp unsalted butter (1 stick), softened (honestly I never buy unsalted)
1 large egg , room temp
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 c buttermilk (I usually use the powdered kind but you can substitute a cup of milk + 1tbsp vinegar)

for the filling:
1 1/2 sticks butter, softened
1 1/4 c confectioners' sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/8 tsp table salt
1 jar Marshmallow Fluff (approx. 7oz)



Mix the first four ingredients in a bowl and set aside. Preheat oven to 350 deg. and set the racks apart enough to accommodate two baking sheets.

Since I use the powdered buttermilk I mix it in with the dry ingredients and use water for the liquid as the canister instructs. If you're using real buttermilk or the 1tbsp vinegar + 1 scant cup of milk trick add it later with the liquid step.






Mix the butter and brown sugar in a mixer until it's light and fluffy.






Add the egg and vanilla then beat until well mixed, a couple of minutes.




I love to see a batter transform. When a grainy, separate mixture turns into this luscious smooth and fluffy batter. Mmmmm.




Add half the dry ingredients and mix.






Then half the buttermilk, mixing again. Repeat with remaining dry ingredients and buttermilk. Mix well but don't overbeat, scraping down the bowl with a spatula before giving it a final stir.






Onto a parchment (or well greased) baking sheet scoop out the batter. For my size scoop I only put six per sheet. That way they get plenty of room to spread and don't end up some weird square/circle shape that looks like you were going for Picasso's rendition of a whoopie pie. Fill up your second sheet and you will likely need a third baking sheet to bake the stragglers but only bake two sheets at a time.

Place the baking sheets in the oven and set a timer for 8 minutes. After 8 minutes rotate the baking sheets from top to bottom and turning them back to front. Then set the timer again for another 8 minutes.




When done, the cake rounds will spring back if gently pressed in the center (the dimple will fill in slowly). If not, they need a little longer to cook but keep an eye on them. Once you smell scorched chocolate they've likely burned.




Allow them to cool for an hour.




In the meantime we'll make the filling since it needs to chill a bit. Place the powdered sugar and softened butter in the mixer bowl then beat for about 5 minutes until light and fluffy.






Add the vanilla, salt and marshmallow fluff. Beat another 3-4 minutes until well mixed and still pretty fluffy. Cool in the fridge for about 20 minutes.




Yum.




When the cakes and filling have cooled, place a level scoop of fluff on the flat side of one cake then top and squish down filling with a second cake.








Repeat until you run out of ingredients. These are cake so if you're going to store them it's best in an airtight container. When you buy them homemade from some gas station that sells them, you'll likely find them encased in cling wrap. I'm not going to tell you how to enjoy them but I will suggest my favorite way. Crack open an ice cold (and I mean almost to the point of freezing) Coke and then enjoy with your soft, chocolaty, hostess-wishes-it-could-be-this-good whoopie pie.