thisendoftheswamp

This afternoon my very best friend called to ask my help with a cooking question. She wanted to make an applesauce cake, using her mum’s old recipe, which called for a “one pound can of applesauce”.

Well, they don’t sell the stuff in one pound cans any more, and she was totally stymied as to how much she should use in this recipe. I got out two of my cookbooks, and we compared the amount of flour versus the amount of applesauce each one required. I went on-line an did a search for “how much does a cup of applesauce weigh” It’s 8.9 ounces, if you ever need to know – and all sort of to-ing and fro-ing.

And then it dawned on me. “Why we are doing all of this? Don’t you have a scale hanging on your kitchen wall?”

“Oh, crap!”

We both just roared with laughter, as she has not only one kitchen scale, but two.
I never did get her mother’s recipe, but if you ever want to make my applesauce cake, this is the recipe. It’s not an “everyday” cake, but if you are having company or want to bring something nice to coffee hour after church, this is the one.

APPLESAUCE CAKE WITH BUTTERSCOTCH MERINGUE

1/2 cup butter or margarine                           2 cups sugar

1 whole egg, and 2 egg yolks (hang on the whites; you’ll need them later)

2 -1/2 cups flour                                                 1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1-1/2 teaspoons salt                                            1/4 teaspoon baking powder

3/4 teaspoon cinnamon                                     1/2 teaspoon cloves

1/2 teaspoons allspice                                        1/2 cup water

Cream butter and sugar. Add egg and yolks and beat well. Add the flour, etc. alternately  with the water.  Stir in 1 cup of raisins and 1/2 cup chopped nuts.

Pour into a greased 9 x 12 pan and bake at 350º for 60 minutes, or until it tests done.

WHILE THE CAKE IS BAKING: Beat your two egg whites with 2 cups of brown sugar. When they begin to make soft peaks beat in 1 tablespoon lemon juice.

Spread the meringue over the HOT cake, sprinkle with 1/2 half cup nuts – pecan are best – and bake at 400° for about 5 minutes, until golden brown.

Enjoy!

I was reading the comics this morning when a doe walked past the window. By the time I found the camera, she had disappeared, but I spotted her on the far side of the pond getting a drink.

Slowly, slowly, I walked toward her, and managed to get this shot, just as she lifted her head. Another doe joined her, but I wasn’t able to get another decent picture before they both headed back to the woods behind the barn.

Penny had one more stop to make while she was in Florida, and that was to visit the Everglades National Park. She stopped on a bridge to admire the scenery and watch the alligators. “Not too close, mind you. I may be a doll, but I’m no dummy.” She was NOT impressed with the turkey vultures, which paraded along the walkways and made a mess.

She also managed to go for a ride on a “fan boat” which was a lot of fun. Noisy, but fun. She glimpsed egrets and Purple Gallinules, as well as long necked Anhingas, which she thinks resemble cormorants. She was fascinated by the soft shell turtles, which have a long pointed nose that they can poke out of the water and still be hidden.

I received an ad which offered a wide selection of masks. This is one of them.

Is it just me, or does she look as if she just raided her underwear drawer?

I stopped at the grocery store this afternoon for one small item. When I handed it to the cashier, I told her I didn’t want a bag. She didn’t acknowledge my remark, so as she was ringing it up, I told her again to just give the receipt, and “don’t bother to put it in a bag.”

Force of habit, I suppose, but she turned around and shoved it into a plastic bag anyway. I removed the box and handed the bag back to her. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t want a bag.”

“Oh,” she aid. “These glasses make it hard to hear.”

????

As long as she is already in Florida, Penny Brite decided to take a ferry ride out to Dry Tortugas National Park, which is about 70 miles west of Florida. The ferry is rather pricey – about $125 for a round trip – but the ride is two and a half hours each way, and they do feed you lunch and supper on the boat.  You must bring your own food and water if you wish to visit the park.

The island is “dry” because there is no fresh water to be had, but there are plenty of sea turtles – tortugas, in Spanish. Fort Jefferson, the largest all-masonry fort in the United States, was built here between 1846 and 1875 to protect the nation’s gateway to the Gulf of Mexico. Dr. Samuel Mudd, who treated John Wilkes Booth’s broken leg was a prisoner here.  No real need for guards, as there is simply no place to go!

Penny brought along her bathing suit, beach towel, little red bucket, and some bottled water, and settled in to play on the beach. That’s Fort Jefferson in the background. (Her flip-flops and sunglasses are novelty buttons I bought eons ago for a beach shop that died a-bornin’, as they say. I used superglue to attach part of a covered paper clip for the ear pieces.)

Later in the day she joined a tour of the light house, which was constructed between 1824 and 1826, to guide ships through the rocks and shoals in the area.

And then it was time to head back to Florida and another adventure.

It always amazes me that most physicians are of the male persuasion, given how dippy men are about taking care of themselves.  From patients who won’t take painkillers because they “don’t like the way they make me feel” to a certain cardiologist whose idea of breakfast was a powdered sugar donut (Did they not teach nutrition when you were in school?) it’s no wonder women live longer.  The Squire’s left leg has been giving him fits lately, and his neurologist has prescribed amitriptyline.  This medication is designed for nerve pain, and it is also an antidepressant. Excellent choice for the man who won’t take them. When he does taken them, they knock him out for the night and generally keep the pain at bay for a day or two. He calls them Dynamite Pills. And avoids taking them. Don’t ask me to explain it.

It was obvious when I came down this morning that The Squire had been awake for some time, and was in a lot of pain.

“Did you take one of those dynamite pills?”

“No.” Said with black clouds and thunder bolts. 

Far be it from me to argue with him first thing in the morning, but by the time we finished breakfast I could have explained EXactly why men don’t live as long! I finally told him to go take a pill and go back to bed.  He did take a pill, and then went in to read a book in the recliner which is, to be honest, just as effective as going back upstairs. He dozed off in about five minutes and slept for over two hours.

To quote my best friend, “I must love him. I haven’t killed him.”

I received this from a dear friend.

I do not know when we can gather together again in worship, Lord. So, for now I just ask that:

When I sing along in my kitchen to each song on Stevie Wonder’s Songs in The Key of Life Album, that it be counted as praise.

And that when I read the news and my heart tightens in my chest, may it be counted as a Kyrie.

And that when my eyes brighten in a smile behind my mask as I thank the cashier may it be counted as passing the peace.

And that when I water my plants and wash my dishes and take a shower may it be counted as remembering my baptism.

And that when the tears come and my shoulders shake and my breathing falters, may it be counted as prayer.

And that when I stumble upon a Tabitha Brown video and hear her grace and love of you may it be counted as a hearing a homily.

And that as I sit at that table in my apartment, and eat one more homemade meal, slowly, joyfully, with nothing else demanding my time or attention, may it be counted as communion.

Amen.
-Nadia Bolz-Weber