by Susan Lobb Porter | Food, Parents |
It’s Halloween, Mama’s first on the other side. So I baked some cookies tonight. Loaded them with her favorite stuff. I’ll sit down in the oak grove where we buried her ashes and share a couple with her. Probably should bring a beer for my Dad. He’s an old hand at this Halloween stuff. Been a ghostie now for a dozen years but it’s his first one in the ground with Mama. He spent all the others in a box on the cherry hutch. I’m sure he’s much happier now.
As far as cooking goes, I cook like I paint. It’s the mixed media approach. A little of this. Some of that. Never the same way twice which drives my family crazy but suits me just fine. Really. They can make their own cookies.
Edith’s Ghostly Cookies
Here’s what you’ll need. All that nice healthy stuff. Tell yourself that. It helps with the guilt. Oh, and one thing’s missing from the photo–vanilla. Remembered it in time for the batter.
The Rules:
- There must be REAL butter. If you don’t have real butter then go get some. Or steal your kid’s Halloween candy and forget the cookies. Really. Just forget them.
- Use at least 1/3 LESS sugar than normal. Half if you’re brave.
- Stop frequently and taste the batter. That’s the best part.
Ready? Okay.
Ingredients
- 1 cup butter softened
- 1/2 cup or less white sugar
- 1 cup or less brown sugar
- 2 eggs…or 1 if that’s all you’ve got
- 2 teaspoons vanilla
- scant cup white flour
- scant cup whole wheat flour
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 1/2 cup whole grain cereal (tonight’s cookies=oatmeal)
- chocolate chips to taste
- dried cranberries
- walnuts by the handful
Beat butter and sugar. Taste. Add eggs and vanilla. Taste. Add flour, baking soda, salt. Jump back when beater sends cloud of dry stuff flying at you. Mix it all together. Taste. Add oats. Taste. Sneak into bedroom with bowl. Lock the door. Eat the batter. Forget the cookies.
Or…. add the rest of the stuff. Chocolate chips. Cranberries. Walnuts. Lots of walnuts if Mr. Spouse isn’t home. At this point you may still forgo baking and just eat the batter. Or you can drop by the spoonful onto cookie sheets and bake at 375 degrees until golden brown. Anywhere from 12 minutes to 2 hours, depending on your oven. Mine took 16 minutes.
Oh yum. Yum. Yum again–I can’t stand it!!! Now sit down with a cup of tea and a couple of these luscious little nubbins. Have a nice conversation with your favorite dead person. Wish them Happy Halloween.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Family, Life |
FirstBorn is a daddy. My baby has a BABY. And that little baby, Missy B, is two years old today. TWO. That means she’s practically a KID. PRACTICALLY A GROWN UP!!!
Today it’s a princess gown (with fairy wings–don’t forget the fairy wings). Next thing you know it’s a prom dress or a wedding gown or a lab coat with her name embroidered on the pocket.
Holy crap–they grow so fast. Seems like she was just two.
Happy Birthday, Missy B!
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Family, Kids |
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael but a lifetime to paint like a child.” Pablo Picasso
I spent my early art career years as an illustrator, a time when I could render anything with near photographic precision. When my kids were little I moved on to portraits, mostly because I loved painting their beautiful little faces.
But I didn’t love painting other people’s faces, that was work. Inner Critic weighed heavy on my shoulder. If you’re not familiar with Inner Critic then stop reading this right now and go make something spectacular–because there’s nothing stopping you. Really. Go away now. Shoo!
But, if you’re like any number of creatives and have this weight on your shoulder, this little voice in your head, this invisible something bitch-slapping your ego whenever you walk in the studio–then read on.
Because Ingrid has something to say.
Ingrid is my niece–okay, my great niece, but that makes me sound old. And I’m not old.
Ingrid is a hunter of monkeys. And a discoverer of unicorns. A child who sees the world, well…through a child’s eyes. With no apologies.
She’s three years old and you can learn something from her. The painting up above? That’s Rapunzel. With pink hair. Ingrid made this right around her third birthday. Which blows me away because not only does she have all the facial features–including ears–she’s got them pretty much where they’re supposed to be.
But where are the arms? WHO CARES? Ingrid KNOWS she forgot them. She pointed that out herself and said she would add them after her nap.
After her nap. The wisdom of the universe condensed to three little words.
Which shows this child has her priorities straight.
I’m going to have a chat with Inner Critic today. Maybe bribe her with some chocolate. Or zonk her out with a meditation. Or just tell her to go to hell. Then I’m going down to the studio and I’m going to paint. Not going to think about it. Not going to analyze it. Just going to heat up some wax, tear up some paper and HAVE FUN.
And when I’m done, maybe I’ll take a nap.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Beloved Beasties, Kids, Uncategorized |
These are the trees around my house. Ponderosa Pine. And yes, they are as big as they look. Bigger, even. I mean, they’re huge. Positively enormous. Makes you dizzy just looking up. And up. And up and up and up because there’s a gazillion of ’em on our property alone. So many trees you can’t even count that high. Because we are surrounded by the Tahoe National Forest. In other words, we live in the deep, dark…woods.
As do lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
Okay, no tigers. But mountain lions, yes. Bears, you betcha. In fact once upon a time Bubba (best dog EVER, R.I.P.) sent one scurrying up that middle tree. Yes, that one right there. Bears, or at least this one, can leap tall buildings trees with a single bound. But this wasn’t your run of the mill tall tree, this was a gigundo Ponderosa. Took that bear three clumps till he reached the top.
I know because I was there. Way, I mean way, too close. I could’ve reached out and touched Mr. Bear as he raced by. You would race like that too, if Bubba was snapping and snarling on your tail. Check him out down below. Ferocious dog, eh?
Yep, here he is with his girl a few years back. No greater love hath a child than the dog they grew up with.
But back to the woods. And the critters. An interesting assortment we have here. Besides the native wildlife we have monkeys. Uh-huh. Do too. Just ask Ingrid, my niece. We’ve even gone monkey hunting on my property, she and I. Didn’t catch any monkeys but we saw some monkey nests and that’s almost as good.
And we have UNICORNS! Yes we do, Ingrid says so. Here they are, right here.
Wheew, well I think that’s enough excitement for now. Unless you’ve got some critter encounters you’d like to share. Anybody?
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Family, Life, Parents |
I lost Mama this past spring. Actually, I used to lose her a lot, usually in the grocery store. It’s amazing how someone who moved at the speed of shuffle could disappear–poof–just like that. I would go back and forth, back and forth, backandforth until I was nearly crazy, searching and checking every aisle and she would always be one end-cap out of sight. Just one. Meanwhile grocery disaster was occurring in my cart. Melting,wilting, bacterial breeding disaster.
But this post isn’t about misplacing Mama in the local IGA. And it’s not about food safety either. It’s about losing her one last time. Losing her to The Candy-man.
He came when she was dying. At that point in her transition when she had one foot in both worlds. He stood on the far side of her bed and offered her candy. Or so Mama said. She was the only one who could see him. Was this her guide to the other side? Jesus? Or maybe I was witnessing the origin of the old adage don’t take candy from strangers.
He came bringing Tootsie Rolls.
Tootsie Rolls? Not my idea of heaven-bait. I told her not to rush in to this candy offer. Hold out for the good stuff. Go for the yummy rich melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate. The stuff to die for.
But don’t cross over for a Tootsie Roll. I mean, really…
And I told him the same thing. My Mama don’t come cheap. If he wanted her, he had to up the ante. Trick or Treat candy was low-ball. She wasn’t going anywhere for anything under 72% dark, 85% even better. I had been her advocate and protector for the last seven years, I wasn’t going to fail her now.
A couple days later, two weeks shy of her ninety-sixth birthday, she was gone. She died in her home, the cottage she’d rented from me the last seven years of her life, my former studio, remodeled and re-purposed as the place my mother could live out the rest of her days. We were all with her when her time came–the family, her priest and who knows, maybe even the Candy-Man.
After the craziness, the cleaning, the sorting, the giving away…the sisters returning to their homes on the other side of the country, the other side of the world, Mr. Spouse and I sat down to discuss the cottage. He wanted to rent it out. I wanted to reclaim my studio.
But for seven years I hadn’t done much in the way of making art. I’d given up my galleries and shows and hunkered down taking care of Mama. And doing my day job, teaching. Why did I need a studio?
Because I have dreams, that’s why….
We compromised, agreed on a year trial. See if I get back in the groove of making art as a living. Or not.
The first two months I did nothing. Didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what my artistic voice was anymore. More than once I thought Mr. Spouse might be right, maybe we should just rent the place out. Before I gave up I signed up for an on-line class, Plaster Studio Workshop with Judy Wise and Stephanie Lee. You can get their book here. Matter of fact, buy two. Or three. ‘Cause it’s that good. (You’re welcome, ladies) And that’s all it took, seriously, all it took to spin me around and get the art mojo going again. To start waking up HAPPY. To get my hands dirty and make a creative mess and pull paintings from the center of my soul like I have never, EVER painted before.
I miss Mama, oh, how I miss her. But it’s okay, y’know because I KNOW whatever world she’s in now there’s got to be chocolate. No way she would’ve gone if there wasn’t.
And I’m okay with that.
There’s chocolate in Studio Grande as well, but most of all, there’s PASSION. And I’m definitely okay with that.
