I made my first ever successful recipe on Tuesday afternoon. No, no, no… I can tell already that you don’t understand. Read my lips: I am NOT a cook. I do not particularly enjoy cooking, especially when I have just come in the door from work. Also, I come from a family of male chefs… For some odd reason, the Lawton men are quite impressive in the kitchen. But me? Just not interested. So it is with great gusto and cheer that I present to you, dear reader, the first ever recipe from the kitchen of Rebecca Lawton Tredway. It might be the last, too. Who knows when such inspiration will strike again?

Simple Chicken & Rice Soup

5-6 c water
4 chicken bouillon cubes
1-2 frozen chicken breast halves
1 packet Lipton onion soup mix
— oregano
— parsley
1-2 c cauliflower florets
3/4 c chopped carrots
1/2 c white rice

Add water, bouillon, chicken breasts, onion soup and seasonings to crockpot — set to high for 3-4 hours or low for 7-8 hours. One hour prior to mealtime, add vegetables to the crockpot and shred cooked chicken. Twenty minutes prior to mealtime, add 1/2 c white rice (I used basmati).

Voila! Easy and delicious homemade chicken soup created out of what you’ve got in your cupboards. If I can make it, anyone can. (Note: all measurements are estimates.)

I don’t care what anyone says… Helicopters noisily circling above a wedding is about the rudest, most anti-proper-etiquette measure I have ever witnessed. Even though Trista and Ryan’s vows didn’t blow me away, I would have liked to be able to hear them without the churn of copter blades in the background. Grrr…!!!

I now know that our darling Prairie Box is the bearer all of things drift-worthy. Leaves, trash, snow… you name it.

Being oh-so-smart, I chose to scoop the snow off our walks around 4:45pm — before the sun cast its final beams for the afternoon. As I cleaned up the back walkways and our front steps (thanks, Renae, for doing the sidewalk!) I noticed that our dear elderly neighbors were not shoveling. Normally Larry is out scooping away at the first opportunity. Choosing warmth over mercy, I didn’t give them another thought, put my shovel away and hurried indoors.

This morning I awoke to the vision of my labors covered in drifts only Frosty could dream of… my front porch bearing enough of the frozen crystals to match my front yard in depth. And Larry’s paths? Perfectly scooped in the way only 40 years of homeowning can accomplish. It was the wisdom of many Nebraska winters to wait until… what’s that? yup… the snow was done falling.

And drifting. Drifting over to my house, that is.

Today I am loving the Christmas season. I finished, for the most part, decorating our house with evergreens and lights. I feel like a wide-eyed little kid in my zeal for my Christmas tree — I just can’t get enough it! Days like this make me glad to be alive. It’s a good thing to bound out of bed in the morning, ready to conquer the day. I suppose it’s been awhile since I’ve approached the day so enthusiastically. It’s nice.

Thanksgiving weekend is simply fabulous. I love the realization I always get on Friday: “I still have two free days left! Wahoo!!”

Plus the weekend is full of amazing vittles… Turkey and cranberries, sweet and normal potato dishes, green bean casseroles and yummy dinner rolls, pies and cookies. Yum!

This weekend was even better than normal because the Lawton family celebrated my birthday a week early. Though I don’t exactly love eating birthday cake and pumpkin pie on the same day, getting gifts and blowing out candles is always an acceptable activity — even if it’s on Thanksgiving. I got a super soft pink robe and jammies from my folks and husband, and music from my siblings… Joni Mitchell, Travelogue; Sigur Ros; and Radiohead, Hail to the Thief. If any of my family is reading this, THANK YOU! I’m feelin’ the love.

I hope all of you, my dear friends, are have a great weekend as well. ‘Tis the season!

Here it is, for all you Survivor watchers… Jon is pure evil. Any man who could manipulate people’s emotions by mourning the false death of his grandmother is just wrong. Plain, stinkin’ wrong. I was actually weepy while watching the contestants embrace their loved ones. Then along comes “Johnny Fairplay’s” buddy who informs him that Grandma is no longer. Tears begin to flow and I secretly chastise myself for despising this guy so vehemently before… Imagine my dismay when his evil doings were revealed. Argh!!! Down with Jon!

Yet, somehow, I somewhat admire the slimy character. He lies — at least he lies boldly. And he doesn’t claim to be a honorable man as he does it. Hmmm… something to chew on.

Thumbs up to…
-quiet Sunday afternoons
-the first snow of the season
-snuggling under warm blankets
-hot chocolate
–Antwone Fisher
-good friends and fun conversations
-painting your own pottery
-Edy’s peppermint ice cream

Thumbs down to…
-diarrhea
–Hollywood Homicide
-peppermint ice cream without crunchy peppermints
-smelling Safed Mas but not eating it

While Andrew is having his butt kicked by deadlines for his SIP (Senior Integration Paper) at Covenant, I thought I’d allow him to be my guest commentator for today. The following excerpt is taken from a recent email, with permission by the author:

ugh!  this saturday… brad thought he had a concussion, which if he did they can do nothing for him at the ER, however, we went.  no concussion.  instead, i had to spend the day listening to people agonizing over the death of their family and friends.  perhaps for the first time in my life, i had the opportunity to watch the entire process.  if anybody ever asks me to wait in the ‘family waiting room’ because the doctor wants to talk to me, i’m not going!  tragic or unexpected death is terrifying.  listening to 15 year old girls cry out for their dad, watching grown 40 year old men learn of a siblings death as they sink to a chair to avoid passing out…watching people pass out of their wheelchair and fall on their head on purpose just because they weren’t getting admitted fast enough — and all they wanted was pain medication.  watching more and more family of the same man with a heart attack walk in…wave after wave…and start wailing out loud because they thought he was okay.  having no truly devastating deaths in my experience to date left me emotionally unprepared for watching numerous families come in and think everything is okay, only to be forced to deal with funeral homes, psychotic relatives, the works…ick.

the ER sucks.

A few days ago I dragged my lazy homeowner self outside and swept our front walkway. Covered with large, elephant ear-esque leaves, no one could find a patch of clear sidewalk to walk on… until I swept, that is. I jokingly asked my next door neighbors is they wanted to borrow my rake, insinuating that they weren’t keeping up with their yard well enough.

Wednesday I awoke to the very odd effects of what I like to call The South Eighth Street Wind Tunnel. Nary a leaf to be found in anyone’s yards, on anyone’s sidewalks, but mine. In our yard? The most enormous pile of elephant ears, purposely put there by some divine nature.

Coincidence? I think not.

I once read a story about a pioneer woman that couldn’t stand the constant winds of the wide open plains. She finally cracked and went crazy.

Apparently my American flag can’t handle the winds, either.

I knew this day would come. The plastic Pottery Barn handle just wasn’t prepared for the gusts we face day after day in Nebraska. Slowly and surely cracks began to form… until today, when my patriotic display went headlong into the flowerbed. I wondered how long the ol’ Stars and Stripes had been laying there and how many people drove by noticing our lack of proper flag etiquette. The flag was intended to stay up as unwavering support for our friend Rob Nickeson, as long as he is stationed in Iraq, until he comes home. But knowing the pace that we complete our around-the-house projects? Well, let’s just say it leaves me with little hope of continued front porch patriotism.