Wassail

Wassail

Here I am again, after a huge giant gap in blogging.  It's just that yesterday we went to a "Madrigal Dinner" (Christmas Dinner) for our school where my two oldest boys had the main parts. 

I am humbled and awed by their talent.  I'm not exaggerating or just giving normal mom platitudes here.  There were very seriously good.  

My only other contribution to the night, other than being the mother of those two very cool boys was being in charge of the Wassail served.  After the production I had kids, parents and teachers asking for the recipe.  Grandma herself drank four cups.  I figure with that many people enjoying it at the school, maybe my family and friends would enjoy it too.

There is a little time involved, but its worth it!  I hope you make it for Christmas and think of our family. :)

Simmer together for ten minutes the following:  I simmered a few batches longer, I preferred those batches.  The water goes amber.

2 1/2 quarts of water

1 cinnamon stick

10 whole cloves

3 cups sugar

After simmering, either fish or the cinnamon stick and clove or leave it in if you want those flavours stronger. 

Add:

Add one gallon of apple juice or cider

One 12 oz. can orange juice concentrate

One 12 oz. can lemonade concentrate

Bring back up to a simmer until ready to serve. Do not boil, it changes the taste.  I accidentally boiled one batch and it became slightly bitter.

This makes 2 gallons plus about two cups.  I actually poured the wassail in an igloo 5 gallon jug.  It stayed steaming hot for several hours.

Enjoy this!  It smells like Christmas.  

Growing Up

This is Julianna's first year of girl's camp and our Young Women's president asked me months ago if I would go.  I sorta hemmed and hawed hoping that they would be able to find other leaders.  Pretty much just ignored the issue.  A few days ago I was asked - again about girls camp.  They are still short leaders and still need me to go.

So after hoping that the entire situation would resolve itself without me saying yes or no either way, (really I'm not normally so flaky)  I had give them a firm decision last Sunday.  I finally said yes.  Why was this such a big deal? 

One word : Bella.....

I have to leave her for an entire week and that will mean she will be truly independent of me for the first time ever.  I mean, we've left her over night but not a solid 24 hours.  It feels like a big deal to me.  Like the beginning of the end of the baby chapter in my life.  It feels like I'm committed to being out of babies.  Who knew that something as harmless as a girls camp could bring on so much emotion.  I'm ripping off my Bella bandaid.

After explaining some of my feelings to a friend in the ward she sent me this quote the other day. It moved me to see my feelings expressed so well: 

"A first child is your own best foot forward, and how you do cheer those little feet as they strike out.

You examine every turn of flesh for precocity, and crow it to the world.

But the last one: the baby who trails her scent like a flag of surrender through your life when there will be no more coming after--oh, that's love by a different name.

She is the babe you hold in your arms for an hour after she's gone to sleep. If you put her down in the crib, she might wake up changed and fly away. 

So instead you rock by the window, drinking the light from her skin, breathing her exhaled dreams.

You heart bays to the double crescent moons of closed lashes on her cheeks. She's the one you can't put down."

.Barbara Kingsolver.

Amen.

Epiphany

I heard a great talk Sacrament meeting a few weeks ago. It was about trying for perfection. The speaker gave a great  analogy about how like a marriage, we are in a partnership with Christ.  We can never be perfect on our own, but through the atonement we will be ok.  We just have to do the best we can with what we have every day.  She tied her lesson into this poem, which feels like my own biography.

Of course, I know what personal holes I have in my side walk, and each person is different.... But the poem reminded me of the responsibilities I have to avoid my OWN pitfalls.....


There Is a Hole in My Sidewalk

Autobiography in Five Short Chapter

By Portia Nelson

Chapter One

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost…I am helpless.

It isn’t my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend that I don’t see it.

I fall in again.

I can’t believe I am in this same place.

But, it isn’t my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep whole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in…it’s a habit…but,

My eyes are open

I know where I am

It is my fault.

I get out immediately,

Chapter Four

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

Chapter Five

I walk down another street.

Trying Again

I feel as though I've always written many of these blog posts as therapy for me.  Or at least a way to use my somewhat limited and strained creativity.  :)

The past year has been crazy.  Crazy busy, emotional, stressful, great - just plain crazy.  So keeping track of our lives and some of my thoughts through this blog has not been my priority.  But I think it's wrong of me to ignore this outlet of mine completely.

 So, I'm going to recommit AGAIN to keeping this little blog up to date.  It's important for me and my family.

I've been taking pictures and had thoughts to include here, I haven't forgotten about my blog absolutely, but now I'm going to make it happen.

There, I've written it.  I'm hitting publish on this little note and then I'm officially committed.

Here goes.......