Cookie days of one kind and another

One of our Newman family traditions around Christmas is for all the girls to get together and make cookies.  It's always a fun filled day with good food, hot drinks, a lot sugar, and some face-to-face family visiting before the holiday and hectic traveling begins.  Some years there are those that can't make it and they are always missed.



Kristine, Karyl, Noah, Nicole, Donna, Marsha, Kayla, Phyllis, Debbie,
Emmers and Zeke



Noah is new to cookie day this year (his birthday is Dec 24th) and we had our first ever best decorated sugar cookie contest.  Emmers won....hence the santa hat holiday cheermeister hat.

Burrito said he'd help with the no bake cookies as long as his hands didn't get dirty and as long as Kayla hand fed him tasty bits from the leftovers in the bowl.   Well played, burrito, well played.

We have been making new friends in our own neighborhood.  So I shared the super secret best, ever sugar cookie recipe and we had our own little decorating party. 

The only things missing this year was my favorite sister and red hots for snowman buttons.

Christmas Cookie Tradition

One of my favorite Newman family Christmas traditions is our annual cookie day.  We gather, have lunch, catch up on family news and bake cookies until we all have reached our maximum sugar tolerance for the season.  The star of the cookie show is hands down the sugar cookies!   By the end of the day we each have our own tins of fudge, chocolate chip cookies, rice crispy treats, sugar cookies, and pecan sandies.

It is usually a girls only affair.  The boys are sent off to buy us presents or have a sushi date or buy guns...you know, the usual boy stuff.  Since Bobbo is still a small, man-child he gets to come still.  Plus he needs to put some miles on his 'boy apron'.



Decorating sugar cookies


We were short a few of our usual attendees this year and they were noticably missed. 

Bobbo, Me, Karyl, Kayla, Nicole, Nancy, Emma & Donna

Called Home

My little brother is replacing my parents kitchen floor this week.
I know, right?!
Suck up!
Actually, I think he's just paying his thanks-for-taking-care-of-me-all-those-years tithing to the parents all in one week.
So when the phone call came that he could really use some help because it's Thursday and he needs to have to job done by Saturday night, that I-better-be-a-good-kid-too guilty feeling won out.
I picked the kids up from daycare and the three of us headed out to Fallon.


There was KFC (my dad's predictable like that)

A LOT of dusting and vacuuming (Em and Burrito each declared they need their very own upholstery vacuum for Christmas now)

Walls were scrubbed

A lot of critiquing was done over my lack of elbow grease cleaning power in the stove/oven area, and a few "Not good enoughs, keep cleaning" comments were made.  Did I mention William's Type A personality.

And in between rinsing rags out and scrubbing walls we talked about family and all the mementos that line the kitchen walls.  There are ceramics my Memere (my mother's mother) made in the 70s lining the tops of the cupboards above the refrigerator.  I declared they are mine.  When my mother dies of course.  And then we laughed because I am, after all where Emma gets that statement from.  And every baked bean pot I dusted and put back above the cupboards was declared "The One" that will hold Hal's ashes when he dies.  How many bean pots does one man need?! Honestly. 

Hours later, I packed my sleeping babies back into the car, took my dirty, tired, simple green smelling self home to take a shower and sleep.

And I am thankful that I was called home.  Thankful for being able to help and for learning some new family history.

The cogs they are a whirling...(Or Rebekah is In-Demand)

Remember how I told you it was Jalapeno Jelly making time? Well we are waaaaay past that now. The pectin has been shelved. The canner has been boxed up. The jelly jars were lined up in a row.

Yep. You read that right. WERE. They are all gone!!!!

First, I gave a couple away to family members. Then I got an email from the sister-in-law saying the girls at work were loving the jalapeno jelly and could she get another jar to share. Pretty soon the emails started rolling in more frantically. PLEASE SEND MORE JELLY - ASAP.

Then, came the most unexpected and wonderful email yet. One of SIL's co-workers wanted to BUY some jars of jelly. Seriously. I never would have imagined as much. I had dreams of having to invent wild and crazy recipes just to use up all of the jars of jalapeno jelly in my cupboard. Because it would be in my hips best interest if I did not eat all of the above mentioned jelly slathered on Ritz crackers with copious amounts of cream cheese.

So anyway, humbled by the request, yet nervous about selling something that someone else possibly, maybe wouldn't like, I declined the money. I gave the jars away under the guise of "building up a strong and faithful fan base".

But next year....

Oh next year....

sweet with a little bit of heat next year....

When I have jalapenos heaped up and overflowing the basket on my kitchen counter, maybe-just-maybe, I won't readily send them out the door with Will to give away at work because I'm sick of looking at all that green.

And maybe I'll be making a little bitty bit of green to keep myself.

And then one day, It happened!

Did you know that I make amazing, delicious apple pies from scratch?

It's true. Ask the boy. Or you can ask the dad. But the dad will tell you anything that he didn't make himself is delicious, so you should ask the boy.

Last year, however, I did NOT make pies. Two reasons:

These guys - long on cute, not so much on helpfulness. I decided it couldn't be done to spend a whole afternoon in the kitchen with these two clamoring for my attention. So I took a year off.

We missed the pies!!

This year, I sat myself down and gave myself a stern talking to.

"Buck up Girl!"

There are tons of moms that have been slaving away in the kitchen all while raising little ones. And I only have TWO children. Which seemed like so little that weekend as I had parked myself right in front of an 18 kids and counting marathon.

I had bags full of apples thanks to my big Sister and I was looking for something to occupy myself since the boy was out of town on a business trip. (Who goes on business trips on the weekend anyway - the nerve). So I tucked the kids into their beds for nap time and tip-toed out to the kitchen.

I usually use the food processor to make the pie crust but I didn't want to risk waking the kids. So I rolled up my sleeves, knocked the dust off the pastry blender, and set to work.

I measured.

I blended.

I formed dough balls.

I peeled apples.

I cored them.

I cut them.

I marinated them in sweet, deliciousness.

I rolled out the crust.

I filled the pies.

I fluted edges.

I tucked them away in the freezer for later.

At first I started with one, then I thought "That wasn't too bad" and I did another. and another. and another. and another. That's right 5!

And at some point in the process. The kids woke up. And I found myself staring at two pretty-stinkin-good helpers.