a seabrook sunday…

Posted on May 24, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under America, Australia, Christianity, Food, Friends, Memories, Nature, Photos, Travel

For the first time ever, on a Seabrook weekend, I didn’t wear my Sunday clothes to breakfast. I know, you’re stunned. Since I don’t like being rushed after I eat, I usually dress up first, and then go to the dining hall. But this year, I had a brand-new dress, bought as part of my birthday present, and I was terrified that I would spill something on it. Yes, pessimism came to the fore, and I went to breakfast in shorts and a t-shirt. But hey, I was in good company.

But the dress survived the trip to chapel, and the sun was out, making for some beautiful photo sessions, afterwards. Last conference, I happened to bring my tripod along for the group picture, but this year, I forgot. So, we made do, like we did a year ago, when it rained, and we took the group pic INSIDE the chapel. One of the guys carried the recycling bin outside, we set several hymn books on top, and I used that to prop my camera on, while setting the timer.

If you see me standing awkwardly in that picture, it’s because I ran to my spot and found myself with a part of a step to stand on, for one foot, and some soft mulch for the other. I was trying to keep my balance, not wanting a colossal fall captured on camera, when the timer went off.

After the group shot is over, lots of people run back to their cabins change, but some of us meander back slowly, taking other smaller group pictures, on the way. Halfway to my cabin, we stopped for some, with Court and I goofing off a bit, as she took advantage of the height difference. Then we dragged some of the guys into the fun.

At lunch, Tom passed off his hat to Skip (our fearless leader), who never passes up an opportunity for a good pose. Especially when the goofy pictures always make it into the Sunday evening slideshow. Then the hat got passed around for more photo opportunities. Speaking of the slideshow, I still remember when Bob brought the first digital camera to Seabrook, and we began to make a regular thing of it. Sunday afternoon is the time to hand off the photos to Tom, and we girls make sure that the worst photos on our OWN cameras don’t make it onto his computer. But we have no control over the crazy pictures that come off the other cameras.

Lunch was taco soup, which some of us thought was ALL, and then realized they had the turkey sandwich fixings back in the kitchen, and not on the buffet line. After we ate, I think Dave’s presence was really missed, because not only is he our resident “pyro”, he also usually leads a hike on Sunday afternoon, for those who like walking the Seabrook trails. Instead, and even better, we had a baptism, in the ocean, for one of our dear girls.

Afterwards, I watched some of my friends pick up a dead jellyfish, to look at it closely, and then take it back into the water TWICE, to wash more sand out of it. I think they couldn’t see the guts very well, or something. It was funny to listen to them cheerfully point out “there’s its nose, eyes, and mouth…”. Sillies.

On the way to uploading pictures to Tom’s computer, in the dining hall, I had to show him how to turn the water on, to wash off his sandy feet and shoes. I think they keep adjusting how they use those beach “showers”. But at least it made me feel smart. : )

When we reached the dining hall for dinner, one of the chefs came out to tell us all about the roast beef, gravy, mixed vegetables, and mashed potatoes we would be having for dinner. Those potatoes are amazing, I’m not sure I want to know what they add to make them taste so good. There are probably lots of calories in the ingredients. We did miss having the famous camp mac’n'cheese, though. They make a triple cheese macaroni and cheese dish that’s to die for, and you’ve never had anything like it, anywhere. Too bad, maybe in November.

The camp provides an assortment of coffee mugs, and when I took notice of Harold’s, I had to get a picture of him with it. Besides, he’s a born model.

Before the evening meeting, Courtney had some fun with Rachel’s (different Rachel, not me) hair. That’s what happens when you room with a hairdresser, eventually, she will do something with your hair. It’s good fun.

The final meeting of the weekend was excellent, and before it started, we tried to bring the roof down, with the singing. Harold put in our usual ending numbers, with a few extras, so the girls able to hit the high notes were really having to work. I’m always grateful that “Wonderful Grace of Jesus” gives us a momentary breather, in the chorus.

Sunday ended with a hilarious slideshow, complete with random quotes from the weekend. We’re always good for a few of those. After a few snacks (because you know, we’ve barely eaten anything, all weekend), we had a rousing game of Signs, which I think I won. That’s what happens when you play for an hour or more, and you never get called into the middle, right? I was the only one to manage it, this time. Of course, we have almost as many spectators as players, because it’s a hoot to watch the game.

Finally, with the clouds beginning to clear off, we hit the beach and walked down to the point. Several people had their phones out, loading their constellation and star apps, in order to see what constellations we were looking at. Once I spotted Orion, I commented on the fact that it was the only constellation I could see in Australia, that I recognized. Even though he always looked like he was upside down (or something), it was comforting to see something familiar. One of the guys shot down this remark, insisting that no constellations from the Northern Hemisphere were visible in the Southern Hemisphere. He said I must have seen Cygnus.

Well, I insisted that I ought to know what Orion looks like, and his belt is distinctive, but I had no proof. But I have remembered to look it up, at last, and guess what? I was right! Orion is located on the celestial equator and is visible in BOTH hemispheres! So there! Sorry, when you’re in a totally different place, far from all you know, you will latch onto the few things that are familiar. And I didn’t want that taken away from me, even a year after the fact.

Stay with me! I’m including a picture of Monday’s delicious breakfast, because I have so many things to talk about and show from our time spent in Charleston. We’re getting there, slowly but surely!

a seabrook saturday…

Posted on May 23, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under America, Christianity, Food, Friends, Memories, Nature, Photos, Travel

I’m trying to condense the weekend, really I am, but I definitely got into picture taking mode. It’s been a conference or two since I took so many. Sometimes, I don’t get going until Sunday, and then you’ve missed your opportunity. But I took a page from Susie’s way of doing things, and included as many food pictures as possible. I did get into the habit of that, while in Australia, but I don’t always remember to take them, when I’m here in the U.S.

Thankfully, we didn’t stay up too late (meaning we were in bed by midnight, I think), so most of us were able to get some sleep that night. We arrived at the dining hall for our first breakfast of the weekend, and were thrilled to find that we had “graduated” to the “grown-up dining room”. Do you remember the tables you sat at, in elementary school? With the colorful mushroom seats that are very close to the floor, because of your short legs? Well, when the conference center is full, we often get to sit on that side of the dining rooms, for at least the first part of the weekend. Usually, on Sunday evening, we’ll graduate to the side with the real chairs. But this weekend, we started off there! It was great.

Since I started going to Seabrook, when I was eighteen years old, I have continued to have an argument with some of my Southern friends, about the subject of grits. For 10-12 years, I wouldn’t touch them, while at the conference, because I’ve always preferred oatmeal. Grits were on par with a bowl of wet sand, flavored with cheese.

Of course, my dear Dana, southern girl that she is, hates oatmeal and loves grits. So, it’s made for some interesting arguments. But a few years back, I gave in, and discovered that some people (like my aunt) are capable of making grits that taste okay. So, I’ve started to eat them at Seabrook, too. And here they are, for your perusal. Funny thing is, on Sunday, I didn’t eat oatmeal, even when it was served at the buffet.

As you can see, we had to test out some of the emergency exits, just to make sure they were working. Actually, that cabin has the only one facing the boardwalk, so it’s great for talking to people before heading outside. My cabin faces the bushes and the alligator pond (don’t worry, we’re up off the ground), so no reason to look out that little door.

Arriving at our little Chapel of the Palms, you can get a tantalizing glimpse of the ocean, over the sea oats (don’t pull them, you’ll get charged a couple hundred bucks). Inside, Skip waited in anticipation for all of us to arrive for the morning meeting. And we were off!

While I’ll talk more about the meetings, later, in another post, this weekend of meetings was amazing. They’re always awesome, of course, because our speakers are never dull, and always bringing forth the Word of God. But hearing about absolute truth (truth is NOT relative, people!) and scientific evidence for the reliability of the Bible? Right up my alley. Couldn’t get enough, and I plan to read Rob’s website, back to front (or top to bottom, as the case may be).

I don’t have a video of any of our song sessions, but I hope to get my hands on one. I wish every church and chapel out there could hear us sing. So many assemblies and churches don’t seem to know the meaning of “make a joyful noise”. And I don’t mean we sound anything like noise. But singing is meant to be joyful, and you should sing out, if you’re capable! I’ve been in churches where I was afraid to sing louder, because no one else was, and it would sound like I was singing a solo. Not here. Someday, we’re going to blow the roof off. Probably on a Sunday evening, when Harold has us sing “Wonderful Grace of Jesus”, “And Can It Be”, and “My Anchor Holds”, all in a row. My voice is usually about gone, by the end of the weekend.

On the way to lunch, I stopped to take a look at the alligator pond. I never actually saw him, but I knew he was there. The camp manager told us that he was, and explained how he was “safe” (not to pet, but look at), if we kept our distance. Apparently, they have weekly tests to see whether he continues to be safe around people. Someone just had to ask how they tested that. Jack told us that they have a “crazy Brit” employed there, who has degrees to prove how much he knows about animals and stuff (don’t ask me which ones, I’ve forgotten). Every week, when the alligator is hanging out on the grass, he’ll run at it… and if the gator runs into the water, he’s safe to be there.

The explosion of laughter that greeted this explanation was deafening. We were told that a year or so ago, their British employee ran at their last gator… and the alligator didn’t run. So, they had that one removed, as he had lost his fear of humans. We joked that actually, the previous employee had run at it, and that was the last seen of him, until the Brit came along. : )

As I continued meandering to the dining hall, I enjoyed looking at the young live oaks, twisting and turning, all over the place. And then there’s the “monster tree”. It’s funny, it took me over ten years to notice that tree’s existence, but I wasn’t photographing nature so much, then, so I wasn’t looking closely at individual trees.

You may have noticed the occasional hibiscus pics, by now. Several trees, in pots, were put by the dining hall, and since it was the first year they had them, I couldn’t stop myself from taking pictures. They were so colorful, and reminded me of Hawaii.

After our yummy lunch of burgers, we visited the gift shop, in order to peruse the gifts AND most especially, enjoy the funny cards they sell there. The truth is, they’re not really meant to be funny, some of them being rather serious and poetic… until Susie or Harold reads them aloud. The Dump Truck of Love is still a winner, but the pics that have Harold listening “angelically” are of a far different card.

The cactus flowers were in bloom, so I hopped off the boardwalk for a few minutes to look at them closely. Also, you can see a lovely picture of one of the caterpillars hanging out around our cabin. They were on the ceiling, on the railing, and who knows where else. I was quite alarmed, when I arrived, but since none of them ever fell on my head, I got over it. If a caterpillar had landed on my head, though, I probably would’ve freaked. I can deal with most bugs and critters, at a distance, but not in my hair. I still haven’t forgotten the year a LARGE spider built a web in our doorway, while we were at meeting. It was at head level, and I got it all in my hair. Yuck.

During our free time, after lunch, I walked on the beach, threw a frisbee, watched my friend pick up a dead crab, and then joined the volleyball game. Of course, I can’t play volleyball AND take pictures, so I don’t have any to show you. The sand was hot and our skills were rusty, but we eventually got it together. Strangely enough, the winning team was always on the same side of the court, even when we traded sides. The other side couldn’t seem to get it together. And there were no spur injuries, which was nice.

Yes, I’m showing off my shoes. I’ve actually had them for more than ten years, though I’m not sure of the exact year I bought them. They used to be a more brilliant coral pink, and my friends expect me to wear them at Seabrook, like they expect the sun to come up in the morning. Running on that hot sand is NOT fun, and the sand spurs are painful, if you step on one. I also need foot support, for play frisbee on the hard-packed sand, when the tide is out. But since I only ever wear them at Seabrook, they’ve only seen about 20 wearings. And I run them through the washing machine, every time, when I get home.

Dinner is when our chef really pulls out the stops for us. Back in the day, we probably had 5 star meals for every meal, but the troubles with the economy affected them, too. Now, they give us delicious meals for breakfast and lunch, but save the crab, mahi-mahi, and the rest of the ultimate deliciousness for dinnertime. This time, it was braised chicken (I think), which a mushroom sauce and veggies galore. And where would we be without Mississippi Mud Pie for dessert?

Saturday is campfire night, so I had to practice. Mike and I broke out our guitars in the chapel, where the wondrous acoustics reign. There’s so much more to it, but I could love that chapel for the acoustics, alone. Unfortunately, our resident “pyro” wasn’t there, so we didn’t have all the equipment for fire-building, and the meeting ran late. A few years ago, the town of Seabrook Island instituted a curfew for campfires, so it has to be put out by 10pm. Unable to find the right materials, and having very little time left, we had to skip the campfire. But I was glad I had practiced ahead of time, even if my fingers didn’t agree. And playing guitar with Mike is always good fun.

After another snack or two in the Snack Shack (to keep from starving, after dinner, you know), most of us hit the beach, but the clouds had come out. This gives the beach a very claustrophobic feel, even though you’re outside with the breeze blowing in your face. Besides, I think you’re supposed to go to the beach at night to look at stars, and what fun is it if you can’t see them?

With a tight schedule for Sunday morning, most of us tried to go to bed at a decent time, which means not much later than 1 am. And with that, I’ll wrap this up for now. Many more pictures to get through, and I don’t know what I’ll do when I get to Monday’s expeditions. I may have taken as many that day, as I took for the rest of the weekend.

converging on each other…

Posted on May 22, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under America, Food, Friends, Memories, Nature, Photos, Travel

It was about six or seven years ago, during one memorable Charleston trip, that we christened our friend Drew with the title, The Lurker. One of the original photo-bombers, somehow, he would just end up in the background of most of our photos. Eventually, we had him “lurk” there on purpose. Over the years, the nickname has lingered, and he still has a talent for silently walking up behind people, or appearing in pictures he wasn’t intended for. It’s a talent that most of us don’t have.

Of course, I wasn’t thinking about this, when I left Clemson. I hit the road at 8 am, and was half an hour past Greenville, enjoying my music, when I noticed a truck starting to pass me. Well, I thought it was. I glanced to my left, looked away, and then looked back again, slightly startled. Sure enough, Drew was looking determinedly at me, from the passenger seat of that truck. I promptly grabbed my phone, to tell my two best friends that “Drew’s lurking at me… from Tom’s truck!”. They thought that was funny, because he had come up in conversation, so technically, he was lurking in the conversation, too. Such talent.

Yes, my girls from Pennsylvania were on their way south. When I lived there, we would drive to Seabrook Island, together, all 10-13 hours of it, depending on traffic. Now, they have to make it on their own. This time, they drove down early, stayed overnight in Charlotte, and were on target to meet me in Summerville at noon. From there, we would leave my car at a friend’s, and travel to Charleston and Seabrook, together. After a year in Australia, I still don’t think we’ve caught up on talking, in our handful of visits, since I returned.

Within half an hour of my destination, I was entertained to see “The Ark” go rolling down the highway, next to me. That was the first time I pulled out my camera and I took it with me everywhere, for the rest of the weekend.

We stopped for lunch at Tbonz, near the Market. Just now, when I finally looked at my picture of the menu again, I thought the menu had been misspelled. Turns out, I never knew that Tbonz’ full name was Tbonz Gill & Grill. For a minute there, I was worried. Spelling mistakes should NOT be in your menu, that’s for sure. Their sweet potato fries were awesome, but don’t order the she-crab soup. Not a winner.

After wandering the whole Market, we crossed the street to look inside of Charleston’s Candy Kitchen. Located on the corner of North Market Street and East Bay, I had never noticed it there, before. Usually, when we cross the streets, outside the Market, we’re further down, and don’t notice what’s up on the corner. As you can see, this is one of the places where you gain weight by looking…. or breathing in the scent of chocolate.

My only purchase was a stick of rock candy. Ah, the memories that come with those treats. Not all good, of course. The main one was from going to Charleston on a school trip, and staying overnight on the U.S.S. Yorktown. We also did the Fort Sumter tour, and I bought some rock candy for that trip. Promptly chipped a tooth that I had just had fixed. Or maybe that was the first chip. I had to have that tooth fixed three times within two weeks, because it just wouldn’t stay fixed. But at the age of 10 or 11, I was horrified by the mishap.

While walking past the U.S. Custom House, on the way to the parking garage, I took another look, and really liked the design on the top of the columns. Don’t you?

After climbing all the stairs to the roof of the parking garage, and making our way back to the car, I was in the driver’s seat again. Charleston isn’t my favorite place to drive, but I am much more used to city driving than my friends, so I always volunteer for this part of things. If my directional sense goes wrong, we get the GPS out. But that always ends interestingly, because I don’t always listen properly to that little voice.

So, last time we used it in Charleston, we almost got seriously lost, trying to follow the directions “Jane” gave us. I’m much better off using my own judgment, and not worrying too much. Charleston is on a peninsula, and sooner or later, you reach the waterfront, and/or come to a bridge. I generally know which direction I should be going, even if I don’t remember the street names.

Having eaten lunch rather late, we skipped the dinner get-together, and went straight to Freshfields Village, at the roundabout in front of Kioway and Seabrook Islands. Goodness, I still remember back before they built that place. And before they built the big bridge on Main Rd. There used to be a “spinning bridge”, instead of a regular draw bridge, and it was a pain, if you got stuck on the road, when the bridge was being “spun” to let boats through.

Instead of dinner, we went to the Marble Slab Creamery, and hemmed and hawed over our choices. I finally decided on Amaretto ice cream, with chocolate chip cookie dough mixed in. The guy working there thought this sounded wonderful, and said he’d have to try it. From there, while I was paying for my ice cream, he asked where we were from, and when I told him Clemson, he said “That’s where I go to school!”.

Turns out, not only that, he’s an engineering student and comes into my cafe regularly. When I informed him that I was the cashier, he KNEW that I had looked familiar. But who really would have thought you’d find your Clemson cashier at an ice cream join, near Seabrook Island? He never “woulda-thunk-it”. He wouldn’t know that I’m at Seabrook, twice a year, every year since 1998.

After all the ice cream was devoured, we headed onto the island, driving “gently” as we went. Yes, the signs really do tell you to drive gently. And after the gatehouse, you HAVE to follow the speed limit (25 mph), or risk getting pulled over by a golf cart, if you go more than 3 miles over the limit. I kid you not. It happened to a friend, about ten years ago, and he still hasn’t lived it down. Most of our group have forgotten how Kelvin drove his motorcycle to Seabrook, only to find that motorcycles weren’t allowed on the island. So, he had to wait for someone to give him a ride to camp. But Gary has never lived down getting a ticket from a golf cart.

Arrival involves much unloading of cars, running and hugging all the arrivals, and lots of general excitement. For me, it used to involve running up and down the boardwalk in my flip-flops (I only fell once), but a foot injury wasn’t allowing that, this time. It was a beautiful evening, with a gorgeous sunset. And even the deer are somewhat friendly. Or at least, unafraid of humans. I got quite close to this one, to take these pictures. But I didn’t go too close, I was afraid the deer would panic and run me over. That’s something that I would never live down.

People still don’t quite believe the story about Kelvin and I finding a deer head washed up on the beach, so many years ago. Aside from us, there were no witnesses to the event. Unlike when the plane landed on the beach, or the large turtle washed up after a boat collision. But if I got run over by a deer, there would have been multiple witnesses, as everyone was on the boardwalk, in the snack shack, or in the gazebo. So, I behaved myself, and so did the deer.

I know, I know, I’m just getting started. But I took a lot of pictures, so this will get things going. Stay with me, I’m catching up!

looking on the funny side…

Posted on May 15, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under America, Australia, Friends, Memories

I like to look for the funny side of everything. Part of it comes from loving to share a good story, and who doesn’t love a funny story? The other comes from having worked alone for a significant portion of five years (except for during the summer), and you have to find your amusement somewhere. To switch up the saying on trees falling in the forest, “If Rachel falls down with a crash, when she’s in a building by herself (and survives), does she still laugh?”. Why, yes, she does.

Some people think I’m overly serious, which means they’re obviously not around me enough to know better. Some people may think I take everything too lightly, which isn’t true at all. I take many things very seriously, but in the right situation, I still want to lighten the atmosphere, and keep everyone from diving too far into the dumps. But I certainly know which situations are too serious for even that, don’t worry.

You’ve all heard it said that, “I know this is terrible, now, but later, we’ll laugh about it”. I will often laugh about it, at the time, but if I don’t, you can guarantee that I will later. If you could hear my friend Imogen and I related our adventure on Magnetic Island, and how everything that could go wrong DID go wrong, you will know that we didn’t enjoy it at the time. Not one bit. However, after we arrived at that restaurant, starving to death, and begged them to feed us… I think we were laughing hysterically, at that point. While we continued to shovel food into our faces. Hey, it happens.

But who could not start to find that story funny, knowing that while we were attempting to snorkel, there was a goanna (type of monitor lizard) or possum or some other critter stealing food out of our backpacks? Knowing that when we were kayaking at sunset, I was wailing about how she could always see the turtles, but I swear to you, the turtles dived under the water when I looked in their direction. Stupid turtles. Or our kayaking instructor offering us a glass of sparkling grape juice, but when I asked what it was, he said it was wine. I was so tired, I thought he was being serious, unable to recognize the sarcasm. So, I told him I didn’t want any, of course.

More recently, I had a cold, and even when I was blowing half my body weight out of my nose (or least, that’s what it felt like), I was able to notice the hilarious parts of it. Mainly, I had almost lost my voice, which made me sound like a high-pitched frog. Of course, historically (or hysterically), I don’t usually stop talking when I lose my voice. Because my croaking always makes people laugh… or their reactions to it makes ME laugh. Once upon a time, I lost my voice after yelling my head off on some roller coasters, at Cedar Point. I kept our van-load of kids in stitches, for the rest of the trip. I’ll admit, I did sound like some boys do when their voices are changing.

Not everyone else agrees with this idea, of finding the side-effects of my illness to be entertaining. One grad student had a cold at the same time as I did, and when I commented on the hilarity of it, his reaction was “being sick is ENTERTAINING?!?”. I’m afraid he thought I was nuts, or that my sense of humor is, well… sick. Oh, well.

I have mentioned before that I am not a klutz, and it’s true! But I have a bad habit of sharing stories about clumsy incidents, and sharing them all at once, so it gives the impression that I really AM a klutz. I tend to fall, occasionally, not because I’m clumsy, but because my ankles like to “turn”. I try very hard to be careful on stairs… and then, I’ll turn my ankle (painfully, I might add), and take a big spill.

The last time I did that, I did some some serious damage to my knees, falling down my front steps. But what I thought was funny was that while everyone in my neighborhood usually knew what I was up to (fishbowl living, you know), nobody saw me fall. Amazing.

And when I got in a fender-bender with a large truck, there was nothing funny about being rammed from behind, while at a complete stop. There was nothing entertaining about worrying that my summer staff girls might have been injured, seriously, if the spare tire on the back of my CRV hadn’t prevented it. Most of us were in complete shock, in tears, and suffered from stiff muscles (from jerking against our seat belts, in the collision) for a few days, afterwards.

It was only some time later that I realized that having bumped my boss’s car, in the process, it meant that I would never live it down. Oh, don’t worry, our insurance paid for everything, and now, you’d barely know anything ever happened to my car. But having everyone come out of it unscathed meant that we could joke, with impunity, about how I was the one that dared dent his car. The nerve of me. : )

But remember, while I will laugh at myself, I will make certain that everyone is alright, before I laugh at someone else almost injuring themselves. One time, my 2nd-in-command housekeeper, a good friend of mine, accidentally zapped herself with a power outlet. I don’t know how it happened, because she wasn’t being careless. But the shock of it really did set her back for a while, and I would never think that such a thing was funny. Especially knowing that her boyfriend might be really upset with me for allowing her to get hurt. Now, she laughed about it later, but I would still make sure my girls were cautious with pulling plugs from outlets, for some time afterwards.

Again, please don’t think I’m unfeeling or incapable of seeing someone else’s pain. That’s why if I’m laughing, usually it means something happened to me, and it struck me as hilarious. If something happens to someone else, I will be much more concerned about the other’s well-being. If you fall, or do something where you COULD have hurt yourself, I will be worried for you, and never a laugh will you hear. I mean that. I’m not a “laugh first, check-to-see-if-you’re-ok second” type of person.

When I started this post, I think I had some more funny tales to tell… but now I’ve forgotten them. Remember, there’s almost always a funny side, to every situation, you just have to look for it. And maybe having a good laugh will make your day just a little bit brighter.

looking forward to the sun…

Posted on May 12, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under America, Friends, Memories, Photos

I can still see the rain coming down, out the window, but already it’s starting to let up and the sun is shining through. The freshly mowed grass and the new leaves on the maple tree are already showing a brighter green. Even clouds can’t keep the sun at bay, forever.

After the last week or three, the lakes are filling up, but I no longer trust the weatherman. Yes, I know that some of you never have trusted the weather people, but I tend to just check the report and figure they must know, somehow. But they’ve been SO off, recently. SUN! No, rain! No, sun! No, wait, what comes in-between again? My main hope is that after all this rain that has gotten us well away from any sign of drought, it will be rained OUT for a while. At least long enough for me to go to the beach, and have the sun come with me.

My two best friends haven’t been attending our Seabrook conference for as many years as I have (15 years). So, I assured them that we never have two cold and rainy May conferences in a row. We rarely have any that aren’t sunny and hot. But I was wrong, and two of the last three were not nice weather. So, this one has to be HOT and SUNNY!

I’ve been stalking the weather report, even though I don’t trust them anymore. It gives me hope that they’ll be right, once again. Whatever they were on that messed up their reporting, they’ll get over it. Or off it.

2005

I want to be able to run up and down the boardwalk, in the sunshine, without an umbrella. I want to be able to play Ultimate Frisbee on the beach, and go swimming in the ocean. I want to be able to see the stars, when we go beach-walking at night, with no clouds to make us feel claustrophobic. I want to be able to turn on the air-conditioning in the chapel and our cabins, not the heater. I want to be able to take lots of great Sunday photos, of everyone in their nice Sunday clothes, with sunny blue skies for a backdrop. Wouldn’t you?

~2009

Also, I would like a beautiful warm Saturday night to have a campfire, where I won’t freeze to death between songs, because I can’t play guitar with a jacket or gloves on. And where everyone won’t have to huddle so close to the fire that it blocks the heat coming to everyone else. This isn’t supposed to happen in May.

Anyway, I’m praying for sunshine and warm weather, and counting down the days until I leave for Charleston and Seabrook Island. If the weather report is correct, I’ll get enough sunshine between then and now, to get a decent tan before leaving. Have a great week!

I want this kind of weather back.

come on, make that pav!

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under America, Australia, Culture, Food, Friends, Memories, Photos

The Australian pavlova… the one dessert I never got enough of, while overseas, and never had a lesson in, until the very end of my time there. As a result, when I try to make it here in the U.S., I start consulting multiple recipes and quizzing all my friends for their opinions on how to make it. Remember, Aussies have slightly different ingredients AND measurements than Americans, so nothing I do here will be exactly like we did there.

My impression, after multiple discussions with friends, is that every Aussie has their own perfect way of making one… or they admit defeat, and don’t make it at all. Maybe it always falls flat (though I don’t even know how that works, yet), or maybe they’re half American, so they were raised on a different combination of desserts. But another friend insists that there is no wrong way to make a pav. So, obviously, it takes all types to make a world. Even in Oz.

For my birthday, I decided it was time to make another attempt at pavlova. Not that anything was wrong with the last one, except technically, it wasn’t pavlova. They do say that it has to have cornstarch (cornflour, if you’re an Aussie) in it, to make it a pav. But as I’ve done more reading on the subject of the ins and outs of pavlovas, maybe it really was one, after all. The difference between a meringue and a pavlova is supposed to be that a pav is hard and crunchy on the outside and marshmallow-y soft on the inside, while meringue is hard throughout. So, last time, I thought I did, and then I thought I didn’t… and now I think I did make one, after all. : )

If you are already looking for the recipe, I haven’t written it yet, so I think I’ll include it at the very end. So, if that’s all you want, scroll straight to the bottom of this page. You see, as I said, I was working from two recipes, tons of online advice, suggestions from my mom, and a little intuition thrown in. In addition, I had to translate the temperatures and measurements, too.

My original recipe, which my friend Imogen sent home with me, was printed off of taste.com.au, and is listed as a “Traditional Pavlova Recipe”. It doesn’t call for cornflour. For my second recipe, she e-mailed me the link to aussie.info.com. I did lots of flipping back and forth from one to the other, trying to decide what to do.

One problem is that Aussies use caster sugar (Americans don’t have this, except perhaps in a specialty store), which seems to be like granulated sugar that’s been blended slightly finer, but not as fine as icing sugar. In the end, we picked up a box of 4x confectioner’s sugar, which is probably too fine, but who cares? It’ll blend nicely into the egg whites, and it’s sugar. Adapt to the ingredients you have, especially if you’re too lazy to blend the sugar in the food processor.

When I began to dig out the ingredients, I practically had to climb into the cupboard, trying to find the cream of tartar, which was hiding in a small container,behind everything else. One recipe calls for it, and the other does not. One recipe explains that cream of tartar helps increase the volume of the egg whites, and gives the pavlova a crunchier crust. So, I thought, it’ll probably help, so I included it.

Remembering that I hadn’t messed it up the first time, so I couldn’t really ruin it this time, unless I did something completely ridiculous, I began my pavlova. I’ve never had any trouble with separating egg whites from egg yolks, so I quickly did that, and threw them in the mixing bowl. By the way, one recipe called for 6 egg whites, the other for 4-6. I think the 4-6 one was tailored more towards 4, so the measurements were a bit different. I went with six, and decided I’d swing with it. One recipe called for a pinch of salt, the other for a pinch of cream of tartar, so I used both.

My first recipe has my friend’s handwritten note that “Typically, in most Aussie pavs, you would use 1/4 cup caster sugar for every egg white – beat until no longer grainy”. So, it’s likely that their caster sugar is grainier than my powdered sugar, and you have to stir longer. And those cups mentioned are in Aussie measures, so I figured my 1 1/2 cups of sugar would work nicely with my 6 eggs. No, wait, one recipe called for 8 ounces of it… so I may have gone with that. Either works. I gradually added the sugar, vanilla, and white vinegar, though I think I saved the vanilla for the very end. It doesn’t really seem like vinegar and vanilla would go together.

Recipe #2 says to lightly fold in the cornstarch. This is where I needed a lesson on folding, from my mom, because I’ve rarely done any recipe that calls for it. The idea of gently stirring, in order to keep it from deflating, strikes me as very odd, but then, I’m using to stirring cookie dough. So, very carefully, I folded in the cornstarch, wondering what would happen if I stirred it too hard. Would it just evaporate before my eyes? That must be what my friend meant about it “falling”.

Also, in Australia, with no everyone having air-conditioning or insulation in their homes, I’m guessing that some of the issues may come with the fluctuation of temperatures inside the house. Even when our AC isn’t running, the house takes a while to change temp, so there isn’t usually any trouble with cooking projects reacting to heat and humidity.

Once the egg whites were ready, I put parchment paper on my cookie sheet, so that I could easily move it to a decorative plate, later. The first time, I didn’t do very well at getting the mixture in a circle, and hollowing it out to make room for the whipped cream. Of course, that time, I overwhipped the cream, so there wasn’t as much of it. But this time, I kept my circle smaller and piled it higher, in order to make a deeper hollow inside. And wished I knew, in detail (with pics), how my friends do it, and what it looks like when they’re making it. : ) Recipe #1 also calls for making “furrows” up the sides. I’m still working on that part.

After much debate over the oven temperatures and timing, we put it into our convection oven. If you have a gas oven, the recipes call for starting with 400°F, and then dropping it to 250°F after ten minutes, and then baking for an hour. I see now that my first recipe calls for even lower temps. But if you have an electric oven, you start it at 250°F and bake for 1.5 hours. Final notation says that if you have a fan-forced oven (convection), then you “adjust accordingly”. Great, so we make it up as we go along. Eventually, we settled on preheating to 250°F, then dropping it to 235°, and baked it for an hour.

Though it was completely done, the outside of the pavlova wasn’t as crispy as it should’ve been, and the inside a bit soft, so I think I’ll bake it longer, next time. My brother has volunteered to eat any more than I want to make, for practice. : )

When it’s baked, you turn off the oven, leave the oven partially ajar, and let the pav cool in the oven. I believe this is because if it gets cool TOO suddenly, it will fall. So, another case of possible “falling” that I have yet to experience, so I’m not quite sure what it would look like, if it did.

After the pav was almost cool, I brought it out of the oven to finish cooling, transferred it to a pretty plate, and cut off the excess parchment paper. It moved very easily, with the paper under it. Then, I prepared to make the whipped cream. The recipe calls for 300 mLs of thickened cream, so I used a pint of heavy whipping cream (which is ~470 mLs, I think). This time, I measured it out, but next time, I’ll just use the whole container, because you can’t have too much whipped cream. Also, I need to mix it slightly less, so it will be a little softer.

Recipe #2 doesn’t have any description of how to make the whipped cream, so I ran with what recipe #1 said. I beat the cream, 1 tbsp of confectioner’s sugar, and 1 tsp of vanilla together. Then, I carefully filled my pavlova, spread it evenly, and decorated it with blueberries and strawberries. We forgot to get a kiwi, or we would have added that, too. And I don’t know if you can even get passionfruit, here in the U.S. (it would probably cost a LOT), so that couldn’t be included. But I’ve seen pictures of pavs with pomegranate seeds on top, too. Raspberries would probably be marvelous, as well.

In the end, the pavlova looked beautiful. So, on to the taste test. When I cut the first slice, I found that the outer crust was softer than last time, and gave no resistance to the spatula. It didn’t hold together very well on the plate, either, so I had trouble getting any photos that didn’t look like a pile of white fluff. My family were all surprised at how light it is, like dining on air, and eating more than one piece didn’t feel like overeating. But despite any criticism that I make of it, with the intention of improving the next one, I think it was delicious, too.

I love how the sweetness of the pavlova, which really is almost the consistency of a marshmallow on the inside, contrasts with the whipped cream. You don’t have to put sugar in the whipped cream, but if you do, there’s so very little, that you just taste creamy wonderfulness in it. And the fruit gives it a punch of flavor, unlike the sweetness and cream of the rest. And getting the crunchiness into the outside of the pav is my goal for next time.

But again, six of us polished off the whole thing in a matter of minutes. And as we joked, if you’ve met my brother, he doesn’t eat four slices of any dessert, just to be polite. And though it was suggested that I could make lemon meringue or key lime pie next, I’m afraid I shot down that idea, because I’ve never liked either desserts, particularly. Oh, I try them now and then, but I’m not a big fan of lemon or lime in desserts, I’m not exactly sure why.

So, thanks for staying with me for this whole extended description of my latest baking expedition. This is what my compilation pavlova recipe would end up looking like, though you can feel free to vary it as much as you like. Remember, this is an Aussie traditional dessert, only slightly revamped for Americans. : )

Rachel’s Aussie-American Pavlova

6 egg whites

8oz confectioner’s sugar, 4x (or caster sugar)

1 pinch cream of tartar

1 pinch salt

1 tsp vanilla

2 tsp cornstarch

1 tsp white vinegar

Using an electric mixer, beat egg whites until it forms stiff peaks. Gradually add sugar, beat until sugar is no longer grainy. Add salt, cream of tartar, vinegar, and vanilla, one at a time. Lightly fold in cornstarch.

Pile mixture into a circular shape, on parchment paper, on a cooking sheet. Build up the sides into walls, with a lower, “hollow” center. Make furrows up the sides, if you like. Bake until crunchy on the outside.

Electric oven: Bake at 250°F, for 1.5 hours

Gas oven: Start at 400°F, bake 10 minutes, then lower to 250°, bake for 1 more hour.

Convection: Bake at 235°F for 1 hour, 15 minutes (varies).

Let pavlova cool in the oven, with the door ajar. When cool, fill with whipped cream and decorate with fruit.

Whipped Cream

1 pint heavy whipping cream

1 tbsp confectioner’s sugar (optional)

1 tsp vanilla

Beat cream, sugar, & vanilla until soft peaks form.

I hope you’ve enjoyed going on this pavlova journey with me. My thanks to all the friends that have given me recipes and made suggestions on how to achieve the perfect pavlova. All measurements and temperatures are American, so be careful, if you live anywhere else. : ) I hope more of my American friends will try out this recipe, and learn to love it as much as I do!

a vegemite kick…

Posted on May 4, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under Australia, Culture, Food, Memories, Photos

I’ve been eating my Vegemite, a bit at a time… but last week, I dug it out and I’ve been devouring it. Maybe it didn’t help that when I came down with my cold, I wasn’t able to tell myself to eat quite so healthily as I usually do. Breakfast is not usually homemade toast and bagels, I try and cut back on the carbs. But butter and Vegemite have just been calling my name.

And when the new batch of freshly made, still warm, homemade bread appeared on the counter, I knew what I was having for dinner. Occasionally, I put on too much Vegemite, and I get quite a kick to my meal. But the more often I eat it, the stronger I can handle it. And it’s so yummy.. No one else in this house ever had a reason to develop a taste for it, though, so I don’t have to share. Ha HA. You could say my time in Australia was well-spent.

This morning, my brother walked by and saw what I was eating, and asked if it was cinnamon on my bread. I should have made him try it, just to see his reaction to the unexpected. Oh, don’t worry, I have had them try it before, but not recently. But soon, I’ll go back to a bit less bread, and a bit less Vegemite. But Australia, it makes me think of you.

Now, how about some Russian Caravan tea to go with it? So long, I have tea to brew.

i almost started a style, once…

Posted on May 3, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under Friends, Memories, Shopping

When my friends think of style, they don’t think of me. Which isn’t to say I look like a frump, but I don’t follow trends, and I lean more towards comfort than looking cool. Besides, cool is more of an attitude. I have friends and cousins who look fabulous in whatever they throw on, and it’s all because of how they wear it, not because of what they wear.

Nevertheless, once upon a time, I received several compliments on the coolness of my watch. They wanted to know where I had gotten it, because maybe they were thinking about whether they could get a trendy one for themselves. Probably in a more feminine style than the big clonking watches that I usually wear. But for a moment or two, I felt the thrill of how a trend could start. Of course, it being me, it didn’t.

You’ve heard me talk about the type of watches I like to wear. You’ve seen the pictures. At the moment, I’m back to wearing my orange Casio, which I’ve probably been wearing for somewhere between 6-8 years, not including this past year when the band was broken, and I couldn’t afford a new one. Since I bought this one, I’ve had the entire watch replaced once, at no charge except shipping, and the watch band replaced twice. So, yeah, I put some mileage into these timepieces.

I’m narrowing down when I had another watch… maybe it was back in ’06. Instead of a rubber watch band, it was metal. Of course, it was big and clonky. No, not clunky. I clonk them into things, all the time, and they make a noise when they hit, because my watches are never small. So, my watch was big, clonky, water-proof, and shock-proof. But after some time, I found that it wasn’t corrosion-proof.

Between the watch band (which was replaceable) and the watch face, right under the pins, the sweat from my hand and run-ins with cleaning supplies had started to corrode the metal. In order to get these big guy-watches that are impossible to break or bust, I usually pay more than a minimal cost, so I rarely want to pay money to replace one. But what to do, when this part of the watch couldn’t be replaced?

If there’s a solution to a problem, in a cheaper fashion, I will find it. Whether it’s hammering a nail into a wall with a rock, using pieces of cardboard to balance a table, or using black duct tape to cover sharp edges on a counter top, I’ll figure it out. Of course, I have worked for people with little common sense who think I’m brilliant, but rather than get a swelled head, I just figure that common sense is an excellent thing. And being low-maintenance isn’t bad, either.

I took some cheap bandanas, you know, the navy and white (or red and white) varieties, and cut them up into a small “H” shape, but with a wide piece for the middle of the “H”. Wide enough to fit under the watch face, and long enough on the “legs” to wrap around each side of the watch. Then, using a combination of miniature safety pins, knots, and/or super glue (which works fabulously on fabric), I tied those bits of bandana onto the underside of my watch.

And, of course, over time, the edges frayed, and began to give my watch a really cool look. When the first fix-it job fell off, I replaced it with a different color bandana, and those edges began to fray, as well. My friends wanted to know where I got such a funky looking watch. Being the helpful person I am, I explained the delightful aspect that corrosion and sweat had played in the creation of this phenomenal style, and caused all my friends to laugh.

I don’t think any of them ever tried the bandana wraps on their own watches, but since most of my girl pals wear pretty little delicate watches that don’t hold up to anything, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I almost caused people to think about following my “trend”, for once in my life, and that was enough for me. Eventually, I did have to give up on my old watch, but I don’t remember if it was because I ran out of bandanas, or because the battery died again.

If I’m lucky, my Casio watch will last me for another ten years. I give it a break, on Sundays, I promise! I wear a proper, sparkly watch bracelet, which I bought for my Bahamas cruise. I really do know how to dress up. And don’t misunderstand! I’m a girl that loves to dress up, and I even wear jewelry with my work clothes (have to get over that awful work shirt, somehow). But I will still prefer a watch that can stand up to the beatings I give it. I’d waste a lot of money, otherwise.

a day for klutzes…

Posted on April 27, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under Coffee, Memories, Thoughts

I take it back. Every complaint I’ve ever made against any college student and their clumsiness, I take it back. It’s been a while since I’ve had such a day for “if it rains, it pours”, but today was one of those. I am not a klutz, generally, but we’ve all had those days where all the little things seem to go wrong, so you keep expecting that big something to happen, too.

And for anyone who wants to argue about whether I’m a klutz, after reading this post, let me remind you that I have excellent hand-to-eye coordination, which is why I can probably kick your butt at Ultimate Frisbee. I can send a Frisbee wherever I want it, and catch almost any disc you throw at me, with either hand. So there. But my eye-to-foot coordination isn’t so great, so I’m no good at soccer.

It was actually a good day at work. It being Friday, we were all in good moods, and though I’m not as keen on Friday as some people, I was still in a great mood. Probably because I got my Spring Jubilee bracelet in the mail (and was wearing it) and we were still getting a kick out of the story of a certain professor getting his car towed. And to make it even better, every grad student in his department seemed to think it hilarious, as well.

Not long after I arrived, my supervisor was trying to call in an order, while squatting by the phone, behind the register. I came to stand by her, and managed to bump her enough that she almost fell over. Amidst my apologies, she joked that I was trying to get her sent home early, presumably from injuries. A few minutes later, my neighboring cashier reached under the register for something, and I almost elbowed her in the face.

Something must’ve been in the air. Whenever the other cashier reached under the register for anything, I tried to hit her with my register drawer or bump her. Or maybe we were just joking about it more than usual, because we’re always accidentally elbowing each other. Then, I knocked my coffee cup off my register, when I shouldn’t have left it there in the first place. Thankfully, it was almost empty and had a lid on, so very little spilled. The joke was off and running that I was trying to see how many people or items I could drop or damage. Oops.

My luck was not in, today. Though I went and hid after a certain teacher showed up, causing hilarity amongst my co-workers, he came in more than once, and I had to give in to the inevitable. Which made everyone want to laugh. You know how when someone is talking and talking, and you can’t get them to stop, you do a lot of nodding and agreeing with them? The other cashiers almost cracked their faces, trying not to laugh, when I was doing that to the prof, the other day. Maybe you had to be there.

I continued to drop things, though nothing breakable or spillable (is that a word?), so when I was left as the only cashier, for the rest of the day, who knew that it was about to get worse?

My supervisor wanted to know how long the chocolate almond coffee had been in the pot, and once I added it up, I decided I needed to brew some fresh coffee. Usually, we have so many coffee customers, we fill it up regularly. Because it was warm outside, I decided to make iced coffee, because unlike my co-workers, I’m always warm, even when they’re freezing.

We don’t need any special ingredients for iced coffee. I just mix up sweetener and creamer in the bottom of a cup, add lots of ice, and then pour in the flavored coffee. Stir it up until it’s cold, and then fill the cup up the rest of the way with coffee. Usually, I have the sugar and creamer measures just right, but this time, the coffee tasted strong, so I went back for more sweetener. Then, I picked up the half-and-half container… and knocked my coffee cup over.

You should have seen this. I may not have covered the entire counter with coffee, but I hit everything else. The floor, the front of the cupboard, the cups, even the rolled up floor mat that was right beside the coffee area. It was even the side of the roll of carpet that sent coffee INSIDE the carpet roll. All I could do was gape at the mess I’d made… and then two grad students walked around the corner.

My facial expression must’ve been ludicrous. To their credit, they didn’t laugh, but maybe they still had chemistry on the brain. I know that I would’ve laughed at my expression, if I could have seen it. So, while they made their own iced coffee, at my recommendation, I mopped up the floor and counter, and then discovered the coffee had gone INSIDE the cupboard. Great. I cleaned that out, too, and told my supervisor to go away when she came over to comment (really, she just wanted to rub it in). : )

Since I couldn’t just melt into a puddle of embarrassment, or sit down on the ground and laugh like crazy, I kept cleaning up the mess. I promise you, I really saw the funny side of this, I was just embarrassed at being caught in the middle of it. Wished a few of my friends could’ve been there, because they would’ve laughed, too.

At this point, I wanted the day to be over, because everything seemed to be escalating. Then, after we locked the front doors, and I went into the pot sink area to wash up some more items, I set another coffee canister by the sink to drain, and then walked away. CRASH!! I cringed, and turned to see what had happened. And then hollered down the way that this one wasn’t my fault, this time. Really, it wasn’t! Our borrowed pot sink guy had put one empty canister on top of a dish rack, which caused it to topple off and hit the full coffee canister. Fortunately, they both ended up in the sink, instead of on the floor.

When my manager came in, a few minutes, I apologized in advance, in case anything else went wrong. His expression was pretty funny, wondering what else had happened before that. Thankfully, aside from dropping a few unbreakable items, nothing else went wrong. I hurried from the building and to my car, praying I’d get home in one piece. Why did everything seem to go wrong? No idea. It wasn’t even a bad day, as I said, but the escalation of events was bothering me, by the end of it.

But don’t worry, it’ll make a great story, next week, in person. I even left a note for Anita, reminding her to ask me about my Friday afternoon without her. If you come by the cafe, I’ll probably have her laughing so hard she cries. I’m good at keeping my co-workers in stitches. Some of them think that I’m just “acting crazy today”. What would they think if they knew that this was my normal behavior? Not the klutz stuff, my enjoyment of keeping everyone laughing because of my strange sense of the ridiculous. If they only knew.

Oh well, here comes Finals week!

sweets & treats…

Posted on April 26, 2013 by Rachel Dinger under America, Food, Memories, Photos

With cousins arriving imminently, my mom made plans for what to cook while they were here. I was enlisted to help with the cookies, though I took plenty of breaks to take pictures. But I realized I had a few more pics of treats from the last several weeks, and thought I’d include them here.

As a child, Easter always came with blooming azaleas, new Easter dresses, and an Easter basket. I’m pretty sure the Easter baskets were still being hidden, up until I moved to PA, in ’06. Or maybe they weren’t hidden, for the year or two before that. I’m not sure. But still, if you’re looking on the treat side of things, it’s still the time when Cadbury eggs are available in stores, Reese’s peanut butter eggs are bought in volume, and the jelly beans arrive on the table.

When I was little, the only jelly beans I would eat were the orange and yellow ones. I’m not sure if I ever tried the others, or was just convinced they wouldn’t taste good. As an adult, I have tried them all, and here’s how things stand. Black ones are ok, as they’re licorice, and orange, yellow, red, and green all taste good. White ones taste like mint, and therefore, they’re nasty. And purple and pink ones taste like soap.

Sometime after Easter, my brother came to visit, and my mom decided to try out a banana pudding recipe. I had never realized that we never had banana pudding in our house, when we were growing up, because I seem to remember it being a part of my childhood. Was it served at school, or just at birthday parties? I know we always had it when we went to eat at Ryan’s. Maybe we ate it at potluck dinners. But my brother Jon loves it, as do I, and our family never knew it.

The big pudding went to a party for my brother, but she made two small servings so we could try it out and see what we thought. I really thought that having a dessert in the fridge, while I was at work, would be too much temptation for someone, but I was wrong. It was still there when I got home. And it was SO good. It was quite rich, too, so I actually didn’t finish mine, but let Matt finish it for me. He didn’t object. Brothers usually don’t. : )

And now, back to the cookie baking. With this particular branch of my family coming to visit, the order of the day was gingersnaps and snickerdoodles. Of course, it occurs to me that some people will think that gingersnaps should actually “snap”. But at my house, we don’t do crunchy cookies, we make sure they’re soft and chewy. So, stalking the oven is a full-time job, making sure that we don’t let the cookies get even a little bit brown.

I arrived on the scene in time to start rolling out the gingersnaps, while the snickerdoodles were almost all baked. Without digging up the recipe (I can do that, upon request), snickerdoodles are a sugar cookie that have been rolled in a sugar and cinnamon mixture. Gingersnaps are made with molasses, ginger, and other spices, and what could be better than that kind of mixture? For a relatively small batch (for our house), I only sampled a little bit of the cookie dough.

While going back and forth between rolling the dough into balls, dipping them in sugar, washing my hands every time I wanted to use my camera, and taking turns pulling cookie sheets from the oven, my mom went about making another batch of homemade bread. We almost always have homemade bread on hand (I know, I’m spoiled), and there’s nothing yummier than still-warm fresh-made bread with your dinner.

Finally, the cookies were all baked, the bread was cooling on the countertop, and we could count down the minutes until family would be arriving. Oh, and since we always manage to damage a cookie or two, while transferring them onto the cooling racks, I ate some of the broken ones, just to make sure they were alright. You know, safe to eat. The gingersnaps were soft and scrumptious. And the snickerdoodles had a tiny bit of a crunch to the outside, with chewy deliciousness inside.

Now, let the relatives arrive! : )

Sing Like No One's Listening

Category Archives: Memories

a seabrook saturday…

converging on each other…

looking on the funny side…

looking forward to the sun…

come on, make that pav!

Rachel’s Aussie-American Pavlova

a vegemite kick…

i almost started a style, once…

a day for klutzes…

sweets & treats…

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Rachel’s Aussie-American Pavlova

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