PITIFUL PRALINES

I have an absolutely wonderful, fool-proof, never-fail recipe for microwave pralines that I have been making for about 25 years. I got it from my sister-in-law, who got it from her Cajun mother, who got it from the Tout de Suite cookbook by Jean K Durkee. Or, at least I thought it was fool-proof, until I tried making it here in Wimberley. Apparently, this house has the world's most powerful microwave, possibly of nuclear capability. Guess I haven't used it enough to really notice before now. I had guests coming for a potluck Mexican dinner on Saturday and, since I had a nice big sack of pecans in my freezer (thanks to my nephew Kevin) I promised them pralines for dessert.

The first batch turned to scorched cement before I made it halfway through the cooking time. I chiseled it out of the bowl and tried again, reducing the power to 75%. This time I made it 2/3 the way through before they burned. I chiseled them out again. The third and last time (since I had run out of ingredients) I tried cooking them at 50% power. This time I managed to get them out of the bowl before they turned to cement, and without the putrid aroma. However, they looked more like piles of dog food than pralines. I bashed them with a hammer and served the crumbles over ice cream. Everybody loved them. Go figure.

If you have a fairly normal microwave, I urge you to give this recipe a try. Despite what you have read here, it truly is dead simple and delicious:

In a big 4 or 5 qt. microwaveable bowl, stir together 3/4 c. buttermilk, 2 c. sugar, 2 c. pecan halves, 1/8 tsp. salt and 2 T. butter. Microwave on high 12 minutes, stirring at 4 minute intervals. Stir in 1 tsp. baking soda until foamy. Cook on high 1 minute. Beat the mixture by hand until tacky (about 1 minute). Drop by teaspoonful on a sheet of foil. Makes 3 or 4 dozen.

SEE THE STARS, UNDER THE STARS

One of our very favorite things to do here in the summer, is go see a first run movie at the Corral Theatre. I have some pretty fond memories of me and my siblings being loaded into one of the many station wagons of our childhood, clad in our jammies, and heading off to the drive-in picture show. However, those memories pale in comparison to those that are to be had at the Corral Theatre, for the Corral is not a drive-in, but a walk-in outdoor theatre. Instead of being isolated in your car, you are mixing and mingling with everyone in town. Teens flock to the bleachers at the back, adults sit in the retro metal lawn chairs in the middle (or bring their own), and families with small children grab chairs at the front, spreading blankets on the ground for the kids. Occasionally a friendly dog will wander up and down the aisles, seeking handouts, and we don't mind sharing since all the refreshments are only a dollar. Owner Mary Anderson was extremely apologetic about finally having to raise ticket prices to $5 this year, but it's still a heck of a bargain, compared to big city theatres, and a whole lot more fun!

BEER IN THE BATHTUB

We've had this house for 3 1/2 years now, and still haven't bothered to do any research on how to maintain wells and septic systems. I usually prefer to be proactive, rather than reactive, so it was really starting to worry me. Finally, I decided to set out upon a fact-finding mission, using my finely honed research skills. My primary technique is to eavesdrop on conversations whenever a key word is mentioned. Yesterday, while exercising at Curves, I hit pay dirt. I discovered that the refuse-devouring bugs, whom you want and need down in your septic system, hate bleach, but love beer! It seems that if you use bleach in your laundry, or to clean your commodes, you run the risk of killing off these good bugs. However, if you pour a bottle of beer down your bathtub once a week, they'll be happy as clams.

Once I had gathered my information, I proceeded to step 2: fact checking. I sent an email out to everyone I knew who had a septic system, to see what they thought about this information. Several thought the beer idea sounded fun, whether it worked or not. Like me, they probably had visions of tables full of bugs, with dung-filled platters before them, holding up their tankards and demanding more beer! Or, maybe not. Susan Albert immediately sent me links to several scholarly sites regarding the subject, saying "Becky, here is some reliable information." Guess she doesn't approve of my research methodology.

OUTDOOR WOMAN

I need another swimsuit. Nothing wrong with my current one, still good as new. I've only had it about 10 years, so it's only been worn about 10 times. But having only one just isn't going to cut it, now that I'm hanging out with the Muses. It barely has time to dry out before they have me back in the water again!

They started me off easy with a dip in the hot tub, after dark, girls only. Then on Monday, they finally got me into a kayak. When they first suggested kayaks, I was somewhat hesitant. I recalled our river rafting trips when most of the kayaks we passed were upside down. But it turned out to be way more fun than I expected. The only hard part was getting them loaded and unloaded from the racks on the top of a big ol' SUV, when you had one tall person and two shorties. These weren't your lightweight sport kayaks either. They were your heavy duty, ocean-going, fishing kayaks, and they were dang heavy! Good thing there was no one around with a video camera, or we might have ended up on YouTube. Next time, I'm bringing a step stool.

The very next day they had me swimming at The Blue Hole, and before we left, had me convinced that I needed a season's pass. We went back again on Wednesday. Now they're talking Schlitterbahn, hiking up Mt. Baldy, and riding the Zip Lines (not gonna happen). I accused them of trying to turn me into Outdoor Woman. They busted a gut laughing, then one said "I don't know if you'll ever be Outdoor Woman, but I know you'll try everything with a positive attitude!"

Jeez, I hate shopping for swimsuits.

P.S. That's Cheryl's 17 yr. old chimp, Spencer, perched in the tip top of that huge tree. Shortly thereafter, he leaped from that branch, down into the water. Cheryl says she's planning on doing it herself, one of these days.

A LAVENDER-INFUSED WEEKEND

It was time for the annual lavender festival, and things were really hoppin' over in Blanco. On Friday evening I headed over to Brieger Pottery to attend a book-signing party honoring Jeannie Ralston, and her recently released The Unlikely Lavender Queen. I was hesitant to go by myself, but shouldn't have been. I ended up having a great time. Saw several people I knew, and met some others. Jeannie thanked me for the Story Circle Network book review I did, and told me that Susan Wittig Albert (founder of SCN) had since called her to set up an author interview. That's what I love about Susan. She's always doing anything she can to help other writers along, instead of treating them like "the competition." Susan later emailed me to see if there was anything I was dying for her to ask Jeannie during the interview. I came up with 2 or 3 questions, and she then wrote back saying she was going to put us down as co-authors on the interview! See what I mean? There was no reason in the world for her to do that, but hey, I'm not complaining!

On Saturday I went back for the Cooking With Lavender class that was to be taught by Sibby Barrett, of Onion Creek Kitchens at Juniper Hills Farm. This time her class was to be conducted at Heron's Nest Farm, herb growers extraordinaire. Unfortunately, Sibby became terribly ill, and was unable to conduct the class. She did manage though, to supervise her assistants as they prepared all the luscious luncheon items she had planned for us, before totally collapsing. We dined on: Lavender Raspberry Coolers; Roasted Olives with Local Goat Cheese and Raisin Rosemary Focaccia Bread; Juniper Provence Roasted Chicken Salad with Caramelized Onion Jam; Salad of Grilled Salmon with Lavender Basil Glaze and Raspberries; Manchego, Apple and Fig Salad with Roasted Shallot Lavender Honey Vinaigrette and Lavender Sugared Pecans; and the piece de resistance - Lavender Scented Mascarpone Fresh Berry Sundaes, and Lavender Infused Truffles. It was all FABULOUS. The recipes should be up on her website if you are interested (www.juniperhillsfarm.com).

Afterwards I made a quick stop at McCall Creek Farm for some fresh produce, strolled the lavender fields at Hill Country Lavender, stopped in at the Arnosky's, then drove happily home, trailing the scent of lavender behind me.

I do have one suggestion for the festival organizers though: I don't know why you insist on holding this thing when the silly plants are in bloom. We all know what the weather is like in Texas mid-summer. Hot. Damn hot. Africa hot. I vote for January!

ODE TO THEDA

In one of the mid-life blogs I read recently, several women were discussing how different things are now for we women, compared to how they were for our mothers at this age. When these women tried to recall just what their own moms were doing in their 50's, they came to the conclusion that mostly, they sat. When the last child left the nest, they pulled out a chair, and that was that.

Not so with my Mother-in-law. By the time I met her, Theda was well on her way to being quite a character. She was an artist, and took great delight in being somewhat eccentric. As we grow older, we tend to lose our inhibitions, so occasionally, Theda could be a bit embarrassing. I did not particularly enjoy shopping with her. Before she had children, she was a buyer for a department store. That was back in the days when they still believed in pampering their customers. One day I was with Theda when she needed to pick up a catalog order from a store in the mall. The clerk informed her that the orders were in alphabetized bins around the corner, and she should go help herself. "I most certainly will not!" she replied. "What the heck are they paying you for? To stand there and look silly?"

Nonetheless, I loved and admired her. Her life was full of hardships, but you'd never know it. When she was in her 80's, had already had heart attacks and by-pass surgery, and was caring for her invalid husband at home, she still faced each day with gusto. She painted, taught herself to carve wood, volunteered at Hospice, her church, and the art museum, taught people to read, and went to water aerobics several times per week. No, she definitely was not sitting.

When I was rummaging through old photos, looking for something to use in my next art project, I came across several of Theda as a young woman. I wish I had known her then. She grew up in New Mexico, but her parents divorced when she was young. She ended up having a whole slew of siblings, half-siblings, and step-siblings. Before remarrying, Theda's mom took her four kids and homesteaded a piece of property for a friend. Theda said they were dirt poor, but didn't know it, because her mom was so creative and could make something out of nothing.

Life could not have been easy for Theda, being the oldest of 10 or 12 kids, but you'd never know it from looking at her photos. In every last one of them, she has a huge grin on her face, and appears to be having the time of her life - except in those where she has tucked a flower behind her ear and is striking a movie star pose. She was quite exotic looking, perhaps because of her Native American ancestry, and it's no wonder George fell head over heels the first time he saw her, and married her about 6 weeks later! Yep, that Theda Jane was a spunky gal, from start to finish.

HI HO THEDA

YOU GO, GIRL!