Archive for the Family History Category

Gwenerrella’s Larv-Egg Greenies Recipe

Posted in Everday Living, Family History, Gwenerella, Misspent Youth, Munchable Memories, Playin' with my PSP XI with tags , , , , on 05/10/2010 by gwenguin1

 

 

A lot of you already know our Gwenerrella, and her often un-childlike thought processes.  She also does not have a child’s taste in food as evidenced by some of her favourites.  She loves V-8 juice hot with cheese, Ginger Beer floats, and Dolmas.  Her mother doesn’t like the Dolmas, claiming they look like gory maggots; which only delights Gwenerrella and made her like them even more.  She now refers to them as her ‘Larv-Egg Greenies’ and delights in grossing out her entire family.  Her brothers are thrilled when she can divert their father’s anger by playing ‘see-food’ with her ‘Larv-Egg Greenies’.  ‘See-Food’ is nothing more than talking with your mouth full; in this case it is Grape leaves and rice filling.

We, Gwenerrella and myself, would love to hear of your gross-out recipes.  Whether it be edible faux vomit for a Halloween Party, or a disgusting dessert we would love to hear of your faves.

Gwenerrella’s Larv-Egg Greenies

 

Okay everbuddy!!  If ya don’ts lissen I can’t tell you how ta make my Larv-Egg Greenies!!

Ya need –

Slimey green leaves- lotsadem

Dried up larv-eggs- 2 liddle glass cup fulls

Evil Lemon Juice-too many squirts

Oil from da French fryer

Water from da hose

Leaves from da garden- two kinds

A Grody Grunion

Bird juice

 

 

Put da larv-eggs inna pan wif da garden leaves, chopped-up grunion, lemon juice. Cook dem for one cartoon an’ den, turn the fire to a liddle blue line and put in haffa de bird juice, finda top fer de pan.  Let the larv-egg stuffin’s cook for a whole cartoon show.

Get a good diggin’ spoon, and put one a’ dose full on every one a dem slimey leaves; wrap ‘em up like a liddle blurrito.  Put all a’ dem back inna pan real close togedder, so they can’t get their backs apart.

 

 

Put the rest a da Evil Lemon Juice, an’ da bird juice on top a’ da Larv-Egg Greenies.  Put ‘em onna stove with the liddle blue line o fire and cook for a whole grown-up show.

 

 

For those of you that would like the grown-up version of that recipe, I included that below:

Traditional Greek Dolmas

 

 
   
 
Prep Time:
40 Min
Cook Time:
1 Hr
Ready In:
1 Hr 40 Min

Servings  (Help)

US Metric Calculate

Original Recipe Yield 12 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 cups uncooked long-grain white rice
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 1/2 cup chopped fresh dill
  • 1/2 cup chopped fresh mint leaves
  • 2 quarts chicken broth
  • 3/4 cup fresh lemon juice, divided
  • 60 grape leaves, drained and rinsed
  • hot water as needed
  • 1 cup olive oil

Directions

1.       In a large saucepan over medium-high heat, sauté the rice, onion, dill, and mint for about 5 minutes, or until onion is soft. Pour in 1 quart of broth, reduce heat to low and simmer for another 10 to 15 minutes, or until rice is almost cooked. Stir in 1/2 of lemon juice and remove from heat.

2.       Take one leaf, shiny side down, and place 1 teaspoon of the rice mixture at the bottom (stem) end of the leaf. Fold both sides of the leaf towards the centre, roll up from the broad bottom to the top, and place into a 4-quart pot. Repeat with all leaves, leaving no gaps as leaves are placed in pot (to prevent from opening while cooking). Sprinkle with remaining lemon juice and with olive oil.

3.       Pour chicken broth over all to cover grape leaves. Cover pot and simmer for about 1 hour (do not boil, because this will make the stuffing burst out of the leaves). Remove from heat, remove cover and let cool for 1/2 hour. Transfer to serving dish and serve.

Footnotes

  •  

FOOTNOTE

  • If using fresh grape leaves, plunge into a deep container of very hot water for about 10 seconds, to soften (don’t let the leaves lose their fresh green colour).

Joseph’s Return

Posted in Call Me The Seeker, Everday Living, Family History, Hestia's Hearth, Misspent Youth, Old Deep Roots, The Family Tees with tags , , , , , , on 02/06/2010 by gwenguin1

The short story below is based on both my genealogical res3earch, and a family legend about ‘Big Joe’ DuBay:

‘Manda watched the road every day for Joseph’s return, she knew that the heavy frosts at night would send the loggers home from the camp for the winter.  She dreaded the summers, with him somewhere in the eerily dense forests beyond their small farm.  She didn’t complain about being the one to tend the crops and care for the animals, she was used to the hard work. 

She even enjoyed the opportunity to wear pants instead of her heavy skirts.  She was cooler as she walked the rows of corn, squash, tomatoes, beans, and even some rice in the lowest part of their property.  The wheat and hay was saved for the cows and Joseph’s prized Percheron pair, a well-matched mare and stallion.  They needed little in the way of aids to plough deep and straight rows for planting, or to mow the hay that kept them sleek and healthy all winter.

Elle and Homme produced a fine foal every year, this year Elle had foaled late, and Joseph did not know that this year’s colt was black instead of dapple-grey.  Petit Noir was already getting large and powerful, although he was less than six months old.  She petted him every day, and had woven a halter for the colt out of strips of waste fabric from her sewing.  How he had strutted the first day she had settled it on his fuzzy black head!

How pleased Joseph would be to return to a farm ready for the winter; she had a pantry full of canned and dried fruit from the woods, She had traded in town for flour, sugar, and coffee.  She had gotten a good price for their weaner pigs, especially the gilt that had red and black spots on her white hide.  They stood to have a good winter, thanks to both of their hard work.

Their dog, a woolly mixed breed barked, and she heard the joy in his voice, only Joseph’s return would cause that, the children they already had charged out the door, calling, “Papa!  Papa!”

‘Manda followed them, taking time to wrap a shawl around her shoulders, the fringe moving in time with her strides.  She smiled to herself, by the light of the lantern she could see him distributing maple sugar candy to their children, taking the time to hug each one and greet them by name.  He lifted little George to his shoulders and trotted towards her.

“’Manda, my dear wife, I ‘ave missed you so!  Augustus ‘as no skill at the cooking, I am wearied of bacon and beans with black bread.”  He held her close and inhaled the scent of lavender that always clung to her clothes, and her.

“Zhoseph!  I am so glad to see you too.  Now I will sleep well at night again.  Allez, I ‘ave a fine roast boeuf for dîner with potatoes, beets, and a fine pain complet.

“Ahhhh… I will eat well again! ‘Ow much wood ‘ave we for the winter?”  Though he spoke lightly ‘Manda could hear something in his voice, a sadness he had not had before he left last spring.

“Zhoseph, what ‘as ‘appened?”

“Later, we will talk of it later ma petite.”  He leaned over; far enough to kiss the carpenter’s square perfect part in her dark hair.  He had spent the summer dreaming of watching her brush it at night, with a single candle bathing her in a golden halo of light.

Joseph’s pre-dinner prayer of thanks was heartfelt, even more deeply than usual.  The lamps glowed brightly over the dinner, shining on ‘Manda’s china and silver, both decorated with golden D’s.  The table itself gleamed from the patient sanding and oiling Joseph had lavished on it.

Dinner lasted late into the evening, Joseph told the children tales of the kinkajou that had terrorised the trappers, and the doe that had so little fear of them that she raised her twin fawns within sight of their single large cabin.  The loggers had taken to leaving treats for the family on a convenient stump.  By late summer the fawns would follow Augustus around, butting him with nubs of horns to beg for treats.

Pierre, the dog, gnawed happily on a beef bone under the trestle table Joseph had built to hold their growing family.  Little George was settled in Joseph’s lap, leaning trustingly against his father’s 6’5”, well-muscled form.  His dark eyes would flutter closed and then open in determination as soon as he heard his father’s voice.

Finally, after a treat of hot chocolate all of the children fell asleep under hand-sewn quilts on their bed of woven rope, under a down mattress.  George was rocking slowly in the small bed, Joseph’s foot happily taking his turn at rocking their baby.

“Now, Joseph, tell me what has darkened your heart so?”  ‘Manda took her husband’s calloused hands in her own.

“Ahhh, my ‘Manda, a terrible thing ‘appen this summer….” Joseph could not bring himself to look at his dainty, fearless wife.

“You know ‘ow the men are, they grow bored in the evening and seek something to fill the hours they would rather spend with their families.  They will drink, gamble, and ‘ave fights to pass these lonely times.  I usually spend the time reading, or praying to Le Bon Dieu.  I rarely take a drink for drinking will lead to foolish acts

“One night, I did take a drink, I ached worse than usual because the saw had kicked back so many times on an ancien oak.  I will not lie; I took more than one drink.

“The men were fighting one another, boxing and wrestling.  Paddy, le petit Irlandais, drank more than any and grew hostile.  He wished me to fight with ‘im, but I told ‘im non, for he is so much smaller than I, it could never be a fair fight.

“’E would not take my no for an answer and he attack me.  I ‘ad no choice but to defend myself.  I ‘ated to raise my ‘and to a friend so I did not ‘it as ‘ard as I can, I make a slow uppercut.

Unfortunelment, he sharge me as I did this, I ‘it Paddy in the nose.  He immediately fell down and did not get back up.  Augustus check, and Paddy ‘ad died from that one blow.

“’Ow can I ever go to ‘Eaven to be with Le Bon Dieu et L’enfant Jesu after I ‘ave killed my friend?  I must spend the rest of my life trying to return to God’s favour.

“I promise you, I will never drink again, nor raise my ‘and to any living thing.  I will dedicate my life to Le Bon Dieu.  From zees day forwar’ I will not swear and I will pray as often as I can…”

“Zhoseph, my dear, it was not your fault, le pauvre Paddy made the mistakes.”  ‘Manda cupped her husband’s face in her hands.

Joseph’s face crumpled and he began to sob, tearing sobs that shook his whole frame.  Manda stood and buried his face in her stomach, to muffle his cries and not disturb the children.

“It will be all right, my dear, have zee authorities been notified?”

“Yes, Enri rode into the nearest town and brought their sheriff back.  After he had spoken with everyone he said that Paddy’s death was an unfortunate accident, and that no-one would be charged.”

“When we go to Mass Sunday…” ‘Manda began.

“I ‘ave already ask Pere Robidaux to say a Mass for Paddy every morning, I pay ‘im too.  I ‘ave also made arrangements to ‘elp ‘is widow and children.  I personally rode to their ‘ome and apologise to Madame O’Brien…”

“Ahhhhh mon brave, you ‘ave t’ought of ever’t’ing.  What did Pere Robidaux say of all this?

After I confess to ‘im, ‘e give me a penance, an’ ‘e tell me God ‘as forgiven me.  I cannot yet forgive myself for what ‘appened.”

“I know Zhoseph, I do not blame you, and I will always love you, for you are a truly good man.”

Ma petite, ‘ow did I ever get so fortunate as to ‘ave you for my bride?”

“You make me laugh, right in the middle of Mass!”  ‘Manda kissed Joseph and smiled brightly.

It was then that Joseph knew that he was truly home.

Yeah, Well… My family was…

Posted in Call Me The Seeker, Everday Living, Family History, Hestia's Hearth, Old Deep Roots, Soul Food Cafe Fun, Stuff And Nonsense, The Family Tees with tags , , , , , on 24/05/2010 by gwenguin1

 

“If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh~ 

 

There are any number of people (I’m one) who talk about what their ancestors did and who their ancestors were.  I can’t remember the quote I read about someone bragging about their ancestors is like a turnip; the best part of them is underground.

  
 I’m also one of those who wonder if the tall tales of ancestors are the truth or not.
 Can someone prove that his or her ancestor was tossing tea into the Boston Harbor?  Was someone’s Great-Great-great-Great Uncle was supposed to go to Little Big Horn with Yellow Hair, but they were ill and the fort Doctor said no to them going?
 
 How can one go about proving their boasts on generations past?  Simple, you do your family tree, or have it done.  Shiloh and I are doing this, and see the opportunity for a lot of writing, both journalistic and creative.


 I have been doing mine for about 6 months now and have followed one branch of eight Great-Grandparents all the way back to the 7th century.  I doubt I’ll see any more go back that far but you never know.


 Shiloh has been working on hers for a couple weeks so she’s still in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  We both hope to find ancestors in common.

I hope to prove that there is Native American in my family tree.  Shiloh wants to know more about her Danish ancestors.


 We both want to do a series of posts about where our ancestors were during a specific historical event.  Par example, both of our families were already here in the U. S. for the Civil War/War of Northern Aggression.


 Since this is a joint project, you’ll be able to access all the posts we make on each of our personal blogs.  We’ll provide an archive and links to the posts so you’ll be able to track our progress.

 

Here is where you will be able to access everything from Shiloh’s Blog:

 

http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/ancestry-series.shtml

Deja-Voo-Doo-wop

Posted in Everday Living, Family History, Hestia's Hearth, Misspent Youth, My Inspirations, Old Deep Roots, Reviews and Previews, The Moversd and the Shapers with tags , , , , , , , , , on 03/05/2010 by gwenguin1

My brother Matt and I went shopping this weeekend, off to the record and junk stores.  We always have so much fun doing this, showing one another weird vinyl we thought had died a well-deserved death many moons ago.

This time, however it was all cool stuff we found.  I only bought 1 new album, but I bought almost a dozen albums.  The one I clasped to my chest, ready to race home that very minute and play it, loud, on my stereo; and to he-double-toothpicks with anyone else’s feelings.

I know Mum wouldn’t mind, and I soon discovered that Matt got excited about it too.  He said he has never seenh it in all of his years of music shopping, and this was the first time I’d seen it.  I kept looking at the album again, so afraid it wasn’t what it was.  Finally, 36 hours later, I sat down to play and record it. 

Not more than three bars into the first side I was covered in gooseflesh, caught in a flashback to childhood that is still so clear. 

Mom and I went to the movies, just her and I, it was a special treat because of the orthopaedic shoes, leg braces, and spacer bar I was required to wear all the time.  This was supposed to treat the too-short muscles in my feet and the pigeon-toe’d-ness.

We sat almost in the very fromt, and there weren’t a lot of people at the theatre, but there were enough to make me more uncomfortable than I already was, on a picky, smelly theatre seat.  I was settled like a wee Princess with a small soda and candy, and my legs straight out in front of me wearing a dress of all things!!

At  last, the previews had finished and the lights faded completely away as “Fantasia” began.  I was so lost in the music and animation that I forgot my soda and candy, I forgot having to wear a dress, and I even forgot the leg braces and other equipages holding me still.

Most of the animation was so right, even the “Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor” by J. S. Bach, the free-form, pre-LSD trip psychedelia had me enthralled.  I fell in love with the centaurs and dancing crocodiles, and delighted in the dancing thistles, and the slow grace of Walt Disney’s fish.  To this day, I doodle my version of those fish, and don’t really think about it when I do it.

Igor Stravinsky’s “Rite of Spring”  was well paired with Disney’s animation for it, and almost impossible to look away from.

My two top clips were “Night on Bald Mountain” by Moussourgsky, I thought the devil was nicely scary, yet a devil that wouldn’t give us chillens bad dreams.

My #1 All-Time favourite was “The Sorceror’s Apprentice, but, as charming as Mickey was, and as delightful as the tale was, that wasn’t what I saw, then and to this day.  I see bears, of all kinds, brown, black, polar, grizzly; adult and cub romp in my imagination.

The most awesome thing about listening to part of “Fantasia” was that I remebered what wonder felt like, and how from the first time I saw this film my most secret dream was to create my own  version of this film, I have the story, the music, the desire, the only thing I don’t have is the eyesight.

There isn’t a durn thinag I can do about the eyesight, I’m so blind I don’t dare drive.  BUT>>> I am not going to sit around feeling sorry for myself, I can still doodle, read and write (which I was never supposed to be able to do), sew, crochet, embroider, many other things that bring me joy.

What I can do with that dream is see it in my mind, and then write it down, and hope that one day a patient artist will make this dream a reality.  So that I can sit in another theatre, chair, world, and see my dream up on the big screen, and feel that same sense of wonder.

Steve and the Neighbours

Posted in Critter Tails, Everday Living, Family History, Misspent Youth, Photo Phun, Playin' with my PSP XI with tags , , , , , , , , , , on 09/03/2010 by gwenguin1

 

This post has two ‘prologues’:

The first is over 20 years ago, when we were living in mid-Mesa, AZ.  We had a trio of cats.  The first was Kliban, the result of a shameful mesalliance between a noble Siamese Queen and a charming rogue of an Alley Cat.  Kliban was a lovely light red and cream tabby cat, with the delicate face of a Siamese, oh, and the voice.  Well to be honest, he was all Siamese, except for the markings.  To anyone that didn’t know Kliban he was an utter terror, to the fortunate few who were accepted into Kliban’s ‘family’ he was utterly devoted, adoring, and protective. 

When our niece, Kryssi, was born we were concerned about how Kliban would react.  He stared for the longest time at the tiny, blanket-wrapped bundle before he moved close enough to smell.  He finally crept close enough to identify the bundle as a human kitten, and not just any kitten, one of ‘his’ human’s kittens!

From that moment on he was the human kitten’s knight-errant.  He defended, groomed, and listened to the baby, when he heard the hungry or dirty cries he would run in search of the nearest member of his family to take care of the baby.

At the same time, Kliban had a couple of cat buddies that lived with us, Boynton and Steve.  Boynton was a long-coated grey tabby that had appeared at the door one day, and moved in as soon as the door was opened.

Steve, like Kliban, belonged to a neighbour to start with, but he chose us over his first home.  Steve was a snow-white short-coated cat with slanted yellow eyes; he was also about half the size as a normal cat.  Boynton was normal-sized and Kliban, well Kliban weighed about 35 pounds (2 stone plus!).

Steve first met us when his human, Y____, brought him over when he visited, Steve found our home so relaxing that he would go home as a limp scrap of white fur, draped over Y___’s arm like a towel over the arm of a waiter in a fine restaurant.  Y___ would look down at his kitten and say, “Steve!  What will the neighbours think??”

The second one is much more recent, last Christmas as a matter of fact.  Mum was given a 2010 Kitten-A-Day Calendar, and she has torn the pages off one-by-one.  I found one of the pages on the floor and it looked like Steve, and was draped over a roll on a cat tree.  I picked it up, began to laugh, and ran for Matt’s room.

I was so excited that I dropped the picture facedown on the floor.  Matt was leery so I picked it up, got it set right, and proudly displayed it while chanting, “Steve!  What will the neighbours think??”

Matt was completely delighted, with it, so I scanned the pic, and started playing with it in PSP.

I added the mask below…

 

 So I then had this image to work with.

 

 At which time, I reduced the size of the image, and renamed the image.  I also added the words I wanted to be a part of the finished product.  I used the font ‘Magneto’ and matched the colours to the colours I had used for the backgrounds I wanted to use.

  

 I made my first background layer by opening a blank page in PSP, flood filling with the yellow from Steve’s eyes.  I then added another mask to the 1st background.

 

 

 For the base I used the background below:

The second layer was another blank image, this one was flood filled with a green from the background of the Steve image.

 I then added a third mask to the green layer.

 

 

 I resized it to fit the composition I had in mind.

 

 I then assembled all the images into the composition I wanted, the font provided some needed motion to what was otherwise a rather static image.

 

I resized the entire image to a more manageable size.

 

And what was the first name I added to the tag??

 The fully finished project.

A Very Hestia Hobby

Posted in Everday Living, Family History, Hestia's Hearth, Munchable Memories, Old Deep Roots, Soul Food Cafe Fun with tags , , , , , , on 07/03/2010 by gwenguin1

Not too long ago, Christmas 2009 to be exact; my family made our infamous Rice and Tomato soup.

 No need to shudder, it isn’t a cream soup!!

We sent these as Christmas gifts to family members, since a kettle of soup really doesn’t work as a gift, we also canned the soup and gave the cans as gifts.

In a perfect world I would have sent the jars of soup through the pressure canner for 2 hours at 25 p.s.i., this world is far from perfect so we didn’t trek down to the storage unit and dig until we found the pressure canner, drag it back to the house, wash it inside and out, and then set it up.

RICE AND TOMATO SOUP

 1-2 quart bottles of V-8 vegetable juice

2 or 3 large cans of petite diced tomatoes

1 large onion, finely chopped

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

2 ham steaks, cut in 1-1/2 inch cubes

1 pound of carrots, thinly sliced

3-4 bay leaves

Water

Lemon Pepper to taste

2-3 cups of instant rice

In a large kettle combine all the ingredients except the rice, use 2-3 inches of water in an empty bottle of the V-8 to rinse the last of the liquid from the juice and tomatoes into the soup. Simmer for 4-6 hours, or until the carrots are tender.

Add equal amounts of water and instant rice, and simmer for 1-2 hours or until the rice pops. Serve with fresh baked bread and cheese, or good ol’ grilled cheese sandwiches.

The soup, when all the cooking is done.

Soup, ready to be et.

 

To can the soup, fill clean, hot quart-size jars to within 1 inch of the top. Remove any air bubbles and wipe off the jar before placing the lid and ring on and tightening the ring. When you have a canner load ready re-tighten the rings and fill the canner.

Cover the jars in boiling water.

Jars in hot water. (Iwonder what they did?)

 

Special tool, vital to job.

This is Special Tool # such-and-such.

 

Does a great job I tell ya.

Does a great job I tell ya.

 

Fill to within 1 inch oh the top.

I think this one may be a... just a tad... overfull.

 

Jar, ready for the pressure canner.

I'm almost ready for the jacuzzi guys.

 

Cleaned up and ready to can.

Just a quick wash before the jacuzzi.

 

Set the canner for 25 pounds per square inch, once the pressure canner has sealed itself keep a constant temperature and p.s.i. for 2 hours. Allow the canner to cool naturally( do not run cold water over it), once it has unsealed itself carefully remove the jars and set them in a cool, dry place for 24 hours.

Jars, after being canned.

Brrrrrr!! Anyone gotta towel?

 

Remove all of the bands and check the seals on the jars by lifting them about an inch off the counter by the metal lids. Wash the outside of the jars, label with contents and the date.

The Swami

Posted in Doodle-a-day-oh!, Everday Living, Family History, Misspent Youth, Photo Phun, Playin' with my PSP XI, Soul Food Cafe Fun with tags , , , , , , , , on 21/02/2010 by gwenguin1

Last weekend Mum and Matt were not getting along at all. Every time they were together for more than five minutes they started grumbley-grooing at one another.  Aftewr the umpteenth shouting  match Sunday evening I copped an attitude which sent me into helpless fits of the giggles.

I have been talking  with both of them for six years about finding less… ugly ways to deal with their frustration.  Thus far they haven’t listened much.  That is why I copped the following attitude.

The Swami BinkiGwendu

Kiss my enlightened...

 

Perhaps a little more explanation is in order.  Thirty years ago, before The SImpsons,  Matt Groening had a comic strip entitled “Life In Hell” that my brothers and I adored.  One of our favourites was when the central character, Binky the Bunny copped an attitude.  He swirled his ears into a turban and pronounced, “I am the Swami Binkynandu, kiss my enlightened ass.”

Of course Jim, Matt, and I adored this.  We went so far as to cut the original comic out of the New Times Weekly and save it.  This was one of many, as well as some of ‘Ernie Pook’s Comeek’.  So when I copped my attitude last week it was Binky the Bunny who inspred me to illustrate my mood.