Christmas Noodles

I married into a yummy Christmas tradition.  For dinner Christmas Eve, we have homemade noodles.  Grandma made them for years, but a few Christmases back, she passed it on to me.  Making them together that year is a wonderful memory.  Flour in the air, Grandma in her apron... it doesn't get much better.

Now, every year, the day before Christmas Eve I make a growing number of noodles.  (I cooked for 28 this year.)  Christmas Eve I cook chickens with onions and celery, rip it into pieces (add broth if necessary, but it's not a runny soup) then throw in the noodles.  Some like to eat it on top of mashed potatoes--like the world's best gravy!--but I love it all alone.

Noodles:  2 cups flour, 1 tsp. salt, 2 eggs, 3 TB cream
Mix together (hands will be needed) roll as thin as you can, cut into thin strips--sprinkle flour everywhere (be sure to get some in your hair)

Merry Christmas everyone.

So Many... So Cute

Just in case you thought I was putting the same kid in different shoes, here is a picture of a big group of kiddos all together.  Most of them will be running out the door to the bus in a few moments, and some of them are not here yet, but you get the idea. :)

Lying Shoes

In the time it took me to change a diaper my three-year old just scooted a stool over to the counter, stood on it, got the bag of Cadbury chocolate balls out, moved the stool to get the scissors out of the knife block on the other counter, cut the bag open, popped a candy in his mouth, hid the bag, and put the stool back.

Then, he came waltzing in to the room where I was, and I noticed he was chewing something, and there was chocolate around his mouth.

"What do you have in your mouth?" I queried.

He opened his mouth to display the candy-coated chocolate goodness and replied, "a cheese stick."

Triple Threat Tuesday

Between the Trouble Twins and the Rebel I had my hands FULL this morning.  One of them tripped and bit his lip, another fell off the couch--catching himself with his head.  My desk drawers were pulled out more than once, movie cabinet gotten into (where did I put that key?!?), books scattered, piano pounded...  the Rebel bonked one of the boys with a clipboard, the brother retaliated with a poke in the eye... You get the picture.  Busy, busy, busy.  Thank heaven the baby took a two-hour nap during the mayhem.  They are adorable, and so much fun, but I can't say that I was sorry when the twins' Mom showed up.  Mothers of multiples, I salute you!

"Hooker" Boots

Dear Mr. Findlay believes there are three classifications for boots.  Hiking boots, cowboy boots, and hooker boots.  Even my brown fuzzy "eskimo" boots (that's what the kids call them) are considered hooker boots.  Even though it would be quite obvious to anyone else that only the most practical of working girls would consider them appropriate for her line of work.
Of the three types of boots, the only ones he really approves of are hiking boots.  Unfortunately for him, our climate is not exactly designed for me to wear cute strappy things all year, and I can't exactly pair my hiking boots with a skirt.  He is vaguely annoyed any time I wear "hooker" boots.  Slightly more annoyed any time I buy a new pair.  I think cowboy boots might be grounds for divorce in his book.

Yummy Shoes

Ok, obviously it is not the shoes that are yummy, but the food they bring to my table is delicious.  I went to lunch at Tucanos with some of my family yesterday.  Along with four children (all FREE, thank you very much).  Their salad bar is not my favorite--although I do love the mashed potatoes--but when you flip that little stick over to green and they start bringing skewers of savory meats, that mango cod, and juicy rotisserie pineapple glazed with brown sugar (!) I am in heaven!