Tulip Turn On

Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm

Woodburn, OR

www.woodenshoe.com

Cooking Dominican Style

Quieren saber como cocinar una cena dominicana?
Want to learn to cook dominican?

Primero, hay que matar un pollo y cortarlo.
First you've got to kill a chicken and cut it up.

Y despues ponganlo en una mezcla de sazon.

Then soak it in some stuff. :)
Y despues, van a freirlo.

Then fry it.


Y ya tienen una cena deliciosa.

And there you have it! A delicious domincan meal! Well, not quite, I'm not very good with recipes in spanish and I've forgotten a lot of verbs that are important...like crush, pluck, etc. :-/ The meal turned out pretty good, except that we were lacking a few things: like the right type of rice, beans and spices...but it was the thought that counted.

Nota:

Les damos gracias a Morena, Iris, Manuela y Yaneth por ensenarnos a cocinar tan buena. Les guardamos en nuestros corazones! Dios les bendiga!

The Hubbard Beekers

Soon to be recognized in the NFL, Hubbard Beekers Mark and Malachi Kercher are seen here in some rare, never-before-seen footage of a practice. Let's tune in.....

"Hey, hold on Mark, I've got my helmet on backwards..."


"Say, Mom-mom, do you think you might give me a hand, I'm having trouble tackling with this backwards helmet on..."
"Ahh, that's more like it! Okay, Mark, I'm ready for you now!"




"Oooooh, so you think you can tackle me because I'm little do ya?"


"Yeah, now we see who's boss. Just lie there for a while and it won't hurt so bad."

The Stitches of Insanity

It is finally done! After two years I finally finished my quilt. You may all exclaim on my insanity when I tell you that I hand quilted this entire quilt, and I will heartily agree! I will certainly not embark upon an adventure like that again any time soon! It was worth it, though!

Does it look like me?

I'm taking votes on which painting you all think is my self-portrait.
(A) A colorful and wild girl with a serene, mature, placid overlay....
or
















(B) A jar of pickles.



















The answer of course is B, the jar of pickles. I’m pretty much a jar of pickles.
And not just because I love them, because I do love pickles. Mmmmm, do I ever! In fact for my ninth birthday, the gift that surpassed all others was a big, round, green gallon jug of Seinfeld’s Kosher Dill Pickles!!!! Who could think of a better gift? Those bad boys lasted me for months! It was a fabulous, thoughtful gift (thanks Mandi, you’re a swell sis), and as yet, has been unmatched. (They don’t make pickle jars any bigger than that)
In the old days when my little brother Monte and I were small, we could think of nothing tastier to feast upon than a juicy pickle. We’d craftily butter Mom up with shamefacedness and sobriety (that means doing our chores on time) and then pop the question. Nothing could quell our delight upon the receipt of an affirmative response, and race to refrigerator we did, grubby little fingers hastily groping around in dilly brine for the plumpest x-cucumber in the jar. Then, when tongue met pickle, a sensation indescribable of salt, dill and crunch filled our happy smiles and no one heard much from the now impickled twosome for a while, so engrossed were they in their nibbling.
Yep, those were the old days, before my little pipsqueak brother turned into the Eiffel Tower. I’ll never forget the day he proudly announced to me that he weighed more than I did. Hmph. He probably ate more pickles than me. >:-