Wake Me Up When Winter's Over!

Italian Meatloaf

Here is the recipe from "Our Italian Family Tradition" Cookbook. I hope you find it as yummy as I did.

Italian Meatloaf

2 lbs. hamburger

1/2 lb. sausage (I used pork, not Italian)

2 cloves of garlic, minced

1 whole medium onion, chopped

1 1/2 c. oatmeal (quick oats)

2 eggs

1/2 tsp. basil leaves or 1 tsp fresh basil, chopped

1 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. pepper

1/2 c. water

mozzarella cheese

ketchup

Mix all ingredients and put in a loaf pan. Spread ketchup over top and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes or until meat tests done.

(I waited until the meat loaf was almost done before I added the cheese.) For the rest of my meal I had salad, cauliflower w/cheese, and homemade crescent rolls. Enjoy!!

Not Just Meatloaf

Don't ask me why I have such weird hangups. I have several of them. Can't explain them, I just know I have them. Maybe we all do, but just so you understand I'll describe a few:
~Cats, I only like my own. There's something weird almost personal when a strange cat sashays around my legs.
~Round earrings. I'm an eighties baby, they were all the rage when I was in high school. In fact I wear very large hoops nearly everyday. But I hate to see round earrings lying flat on earlobes or hanging just underneath. KOMU has a cute little a.m. broadcaster who is attempting to bring back those ugly 80s earrings. She looks ridiculous. Weird, I know.
~People who park in front of the door at any C-store. It is NOT a parking space, nor is the area 10ft in front or behind you when you park there. This is wear my hubby likes to park when he wants to fetch himself a paper or lottery ticket. I've thought seriously about making myself a sign to hide under my seat. In the worst of parking times, I can pull it out and show people: "I TOLD HIM NOT TO PARK HERE!" Again, weird, I know.
~Finally the reason why I'm writing this post: compressed meat. If it's not a hamburger, I do NOT want my meat smashed together. The texture of meat being held together with anything other than itself almost makes me a little nauseous.

No balls in my spaghetti. No croquettes for my salmon. Got the idea? I've just explained all of this...then...I must digress...

There is a compressed meat that must be served in Heaven. Then again, maybe not. It's Italian Meatloaf. It just may be sinful. Very, very sinful.

During the summer of my freshman year of high school I dated a young, fine looking Italian boy who was visiting relatives for the summer. He stayed until it was time to return to school in Kansas City. Fortunately for me he invited me to his big Italian family dinner on Sunday. I sincerely looked forward to the wonderful meal I knew would be served that day. The minute I got out of the truck I could see the hustle and bustle of everyone moving about. They were such an energetic, loud, and fun bunch. All of this was centered around the afternoon meal. I asked Mr. A what was being served. He sweetly replied, "meatloaf". If any of you know me, you know I wear my heart on my sleeve. There is no doubt in my mind my face dropped and my pupils became fixated into laser beams. "MEATLOAF?" was all I could think. Why in the heck would this huge Italian family fix freakin meatloaf? I just knew I would starve until I got home that evening.

We visited with friends and family until it was time to eat. The dreaded meal. I watched as the helping of meatloaf was placed on my sad little plate. My stomach was rolling. I knew my tongue would feel something of unknown origin when that piece of meat hit my taste buds. After avoiding the dreaded lump of protein for quite some time, I had to...one of his aunts was asking me if I liked it. I couldn't be an insult because this boy had too big of a gorgeous smile for me to lose out to meatloaf.

I so bad wanted to pinch my nose, close my eyes and swallow. But I was paranoid that all eyes were on me. I knew it would be bad. I KNEW it would be bad. My fork would cut a piece in half. Then in half again. Then in half again. Finally...it was time...I had to make the approach from the sad little plate to my tongue. My stomach was ready to explode or implode, I was not sure at this point. My taste buds were trembling in terror. I could feel their goose bumps. But I did it. That one teeny, tiny little taste grabbed the attention of every single taste bud in my mouth. The taste bud angels rejoiced...they sang for more. This Italian dinner was worth it after all.

That was 1984. It was the only time I had a tummy friendly meatloaf until this past Sunday. One of Mr. A's aunts created a cookbook a few years ago. I received it for Christmas and found that yummy meatloaf recipe. Mom couldn't believe I wanted to make her and hubby a meatloaf for supper. My family really liked it and it will be added to my favorite recipe collection for keeps!!

If there is any interest I may post this recipe later this weekend.

Run Annie Run

Run Annie Run! She's running up the slope of our driveway. Fortunately we have a really sweet neighbor behind us (who does NOT have a dog that barks all night) blades our driveway with his little John Deere mower. However, due to all the snow that has accumulated recently, he can no longer push the snow any further out. After last night's blowing conditions, our driveway has drifted to a very narrow lane. I was able to get out about an hour ago to return movies and pick up much needed contact lens'. Annie and Kia got to go outside for a bit of fresh, cold air and to play and potty. After shoveling snow around my vehicle, I realized why people with heart conditions are warned NOT to do that. Good grief I really have got to get in shape before I start walking outside again.

I love this picture of Annie. Her ears rarely, if ever, stand up. Unless you offer her an unexpected treat. They tend to lay flat like a propeller. Stay warm everyone. It's suppose to be extremely cold temps all week in my neck of the woods!! For those of you living on sandy beaches, are you sure we aren't related???

A Retirement Realized

She finally did it! After just over 40 years of working for the same company, mom retired on January 29th. She didn't want any parties, no Pomp and Circumstance nothing. Except maybe a dinner at the Pear Tree sometime in the near future, there was no big celebration. In fact her exact words were, "they didn't know when I started, they don't need to know when I'm leaving." I begged to differ, but lost. Not very many people can say they've worked at the same place for over 40 years.

Mom started working at Con Agra after I was born in 1969. I remember when she worked evenings and was thrilled when she finally got to work days. She was promoted as a supervisor taking on the responsibility of products and employees. If her job was anything similar to mine, the product was the easiest! The hardest thing, I think, would be having to get up at 2:30am every morning. The last several years she work until mid afternoon and sometimes 6-7 days a week. So if anyone deserves any rest and peace, it's mom.

Mom has earned her way to a new found freedom. May she have lots of rest, adventure and enjoyment on her future ahead! Congratulations, I love you!

The Best Snowball I Ever Threw

(No disrespect to my current husband, but this is a picture of me and my dad at my first wedding. It's the only one I could find of us together. My mom has tons of photos at her house I really need to remember to go through sometime. So bare with me, one of these days, I'll get new photos, err, old photos.)

The current weather conditions remind me of my childhood when school would shut down for the day. Typically dad would have a day off too since he worked outside when I was in junior high. We would traipse up to my grandparents house together so he could have a cup of coffee with them. I loved those days. However, usually on the way there or the way back he would hit me with a snowball. Without a doubt, near the facial area too. I hated that. No matter what, I could never, ever hit him like he hit me. Even though he drove me crazy during softball season to play catch, I never could get my aim down throwing snowballs. EVER!

That is until this particular day. The snow gods blessed me as they never will again. My grandparents house was just up the hill from ours. Not a big hill, not a small hill. In the snow, deep snow, it felt like a big hill. If I remember correctly, dad left a tad earlier than I did. He was almost to the bottom of the hill as I just approached the top of the hill to walk home. Knowing I'd never get him, I created my only amazing, magical snowball.

Dad was walking his usual stride in the snow...hands in pockets, cap covered head down, walking fast. I pitched that snowball watching it make the perfect arch in the air. To my amazement it travelled the length of that hill. I continued walking and watching. My beautiful, magical snowball landed between the back of my dad's neck and the collar of his coat. It was cold. I wigged out because I knew what was coming. I lost control and couldn't stop laughing. When I laugh, I lose contact with anyone and anything. I hit the ground. A very short time later my dad was burying my head in the snow. Saying the whole time, "I'll getcha, I'll getcha!!!" His getcha's were never fair. How many times did I have to be gotten before I could ever get him back, then he'd quickly return the gotcha. I could never keep up.

Remembering that perfectly pitched snowball that day always warms my heart when I see the falling snow.

Old St. Charles and Lots of Fun

Finally I've sat down long enough to put these photos in a little order. Mom and I went to St. Louis the weekend before Christmas to visit some of my dad's family. Mom has never been to Old St. Charles at Christmas. After several years, we finally figured out a good time to go. Now we both hope this is a new tradition for at least the two of us. Maybe hubby too next year. He kinda just gave us the big eye when we told him he should go. We'll see.

It was a perfect day for a nostalgic Christmas Parade and shopping. The weather was dreary with snow lightly falling. Perfect. I didn't get the name of the shop below, many, many moons ago it used to be a church for the spaniards. A man dressed in costume told me the whole story while I took pictures of him. He just kept talking and I kept telling myself to remember the whole story. I didn't. However, we thought it was very cool to know it used to be a Spaniard Church.

Would you look at this airplane. I wanted to get it for our grandson, but the price tag was waaaaay more than I could think about. It was awfully heavy too.

Some of the architecture...

I believe he told me his family was Danish, but don't hold me to that. He was a very nice talker...

The old buildings are beautifully decorated. It's such a romantic feeling to get caught up in the old time spirit of Christmas.

We had to stop and sing with the carolers...

Cousins Abby, Emily, Aunt Deb, Aunt Paula, me and mom, plus the happy Caroler family. Many thanks to them for letting us join in...

Cousin Abby practicing her modeling skills with Mr. Nutcracker...

Shopping at the Flower Peddler. One of our favorite stores. Ooolala...

Some super sweet photographer snapped this of Cousin Emily. It's amazing how it has a European touch to it. I feel as though I am in Paris just looking at the happy couple.

Notice the kid in camo, the super sweet photographer had to ask him to move. He was standing right in the middle of Emily and Mr. Romeo's heads. Either he wanted his picture taken or he really is ignorant to the fact there were others around. Betting on the latter...

The parade, I was soooooo excited...never having been to the parade anytime I've been to Christmas in St. Charles, I couldn't wait for it to start. So many Christmas and winter characters. I wish I could step back in time for just a day or two during this time of year.

Lots of different time period Santas too...

In case you are wondering, like me, she is the one who teaches reindeer how to fly. Thank you for the FYI Aunt Deb.

I felt so privileged. Most of these characters posed for me as if they were getting paid to do so. It was so much fun!

An ice skating park was created down by the Missouri River, just behind the building in the background. This cute little fairy was spotted skating with little children when we were leaving. The only word I can use to describe it, is "MAGICAL". The children looked like they were having a blast.

How I wish this one would've come out clearer...

Oh, and you've read about this place before. It's my favorite store. Your remember, the one that speaks to my soul. I want to go inside, shoe everyone out, kick my shoes off and relish in the home I wish were mine...goodness how I love this place!!!

Her pricetag was too big for me to put in a sack...I had to leave her...I held back the tear that wanted to fall...

Excuse me, I'm having "favorite-store-house-ever-built-withdrawals", I'll be back in a minute...

I believe this is the Amish Peddler, another great store. But, NOT as great as my favorite store.

Cousin Emily buying chestnuts which had been roasted on an open fire. Wish I could report to you just how tasty they are, but I just can't...

Smiling for the camera...

What a sweet picture of this Santa.

We always take mom in the Doll Shop.

A gift of cake. It was like a movie...watching through the windows of a sweet shoppe...

She whispered my name, but, I left her too...

I have this sneaking suspicion that ole Jack Frost is still lurking in Missouri...

What a wonderful day we had. We decided to start the day with lunch at the Olde Mill Brewery. It was hysterical. I replay lunch and how much fun we had over and over in my head. After shopping, people watching, parade watching, cookie eating, more shopping, we headed back to the hotel. Later we met up again with everyone to go through Our Lady of Snows Christmas lights in Illinois. Lots of tiny white lights and lots of waiting. Very beautiful, I'm happy to say I've been there. Then we went through another showing of lights in St. Louis. A huge park with buggy rides and lots of traffic. Very whimsical and fun. I cannot wait for next year!!

One of Uncle Dave's famous Gingerbread Houses. Aunt Paula wanted me to take it home, I knew I'd have a disaster on my hands getting it back home. It's pretty cool, it made me want to do one of my own.