Homemaking Tip—He Thought He Could

I found The Little Engine that Could by Waddy Piper for 25 cents at a garage sale last weekend. It looks just like my original book and I was so glad to find it for one of our kids.

Remember as the little blue engine puffed his way up the side of the mountain with good food to eat and nice toys to play with for the good little boys and girls on the other side of the mountain, he panted, “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”? Then, as he came down the other side of the mountain he chugged, “I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could.”?

I don’t know if Calvin’s mom read him that book when he was a little boy or what, but somehow, somewhere “I think I can and I thought I could” got stuck in his head. The first time I heard him pull this out was when I was in labor with Cali. He thought he was being encouraging. He thought he was being a good coach. He said: “You can do it, millions of other women have done it.” And, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” And, “Just tell yourself, ‘I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.’” (For the record, not a one of those things made it any easier. In fact, I think I suggested he sit down and read his hunting magazine.)

Well, twenty five years later, I’m canning grape juice FROM CALVIN’S GRAPES. He has planted grapes at every home only to move before they started producing. He just kept starting over and planting new ones at each house. Last year we thought we’d have our first good yield but the birds ate them. This year, he nabbed them before the birds could and said, “If they’re bitter we’ll just add more sugar.” So, here’s to Calvin thinking he could do it and doing it.

Homemaking Tip: Grape juice concentrate is the easiest thing in the world to can if you have a stainless steel juicer. If you’ve ever wanted to learn how to can, start with grape juice. You can find juicers at kitchen stores or on-line.

Have you ever canned grape juice? Do you even like it?

Did your husband say something that didn't help very much when you were in labor?

SPT—All Because of a Blogger

Lelly’s Self-Portrait Tuesday challenge for September is to root out blogger influence and this week’s challenge is how our home décor has been influenced by a blogger. I have been inspired by homes and homemakers across the blogosphere . . . thanks to all of you.

In January I chose balance to be my word for the year. Donna saw my post and created the word art in the picture above for me. Ande threw the pottery vase and Cali gave me the star on the spring. The three things sit in a grouping on top of an antiqued pie safe. I love each thing. Bloggers have definitely made an improvement in my home décor.

Monday Memories—Labor Day

Grand Champion year—the people standing behind us are judges, etc.

I’ve always celebrated Labor Day exactly opposite of how it was intended to be celebrated. It’s a day to catch up rather than a day to play. When I was a dependent, Labor Day was the first day of the Twin Falls County Fair. Our family was active in 4-H, so Labor Day was spent washing the steers, loading them into the truck, driving them 30 miles to the fair, weighing them in and then tying them up in the barn in the new straw under the crepe paper decorations. Fair Week was as big as Christmas. No exaggeration. Our county fair was the largest county fair in the world we told ourselves. There were barns and barns of animals—cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, goats, rabbits, chickens and a few geese. Merchant Buildings had booths supervised by everyone from the Culligan man to the Singer sewing seamstresses, while the carnival was positively an alley of sin. The food, in memory, was wonderful—tater pigs, greasy tacos and corndogs. The produce and home-arts buildings were colorful and inspiring—purple eggplant, pale green kohlrabi, sugar beets, decorated cakes, afghans and wedding dresses.

Being active 4-H’ers, the fair was the end to dusty, fly-filled afternoons of training and grooming our animals. For several months we had to comb, feed, exercise, and try to grow thick hair on our steers. The fair meant all that work was over. Somehow it didn’t hurt as much when I was kicked by my animal at the fair as when I was kicked at home, and I became miraculously attached to him at the fair when I might have detested him all summer long. The fair had that special kind of magic.

The year Evil Kneivel tried to jump the Snake River Canyon on his motorcycle nearly ruined the fair for us all. Thousands were to descend upon our town when he attempted his jump which was the same week as the county fair. The topic at our 4-H meetings included “How to protect yourself from the Hell’s Angels” as well as how much grain your animal should be eating. Our parents considered chaperoning us every step and day of the fair—a casualty to be sure. We compromised and promised we wouldn’t walk through the carnival alone. That year was as fun as any other, which just proves that nothing can ruin a good county fair.

we had ten children in our family and the man that worked for Dad had nine and though all nineteen of us didn’t take animals at the same time, it still made for a lot of steers for one ranch to take to the fair each year

My favorite freebie at the fair was the licorice-flavor suckers that Amalgamated Sugar handed out, followed by the yardsticks by . . . hmmmm, I can't remember now who gave us those (so much for advertising). How about you? Are you a fair junkie collector? What is your favorite merchant freebie?

Life in My World--Nostalgia Nonsense

I was bit by nostalgia earlier in the week to the point of being sad, but it seems to have passed. I don’t know why, but the beginning of Fall seems to trigger longing memories more than any other time of year. When I see nine year old boys with slicked hair I get sad. When I see nervous high school girls I get sad. When I see college kids buying laundry baskets I get sad. When I see kids running on the soccer field or wearing a football helmet or see corn stalks drying out in the field, you guessed it, I get sad. Argh. I have so much to be happy about and so much to look forward to that I’m embarrassed when I lose focus. Pathetically enough, this is a repeat problem. I remember my first semester of college. I was in Hawaii, but missed Idaho. (Hard to imagine wishing for gray sagebrush when surrounded by blue oceans and green foliage isn’t it? But thus it was.) My older sister, Chris, wrote me a letter that said, “I hear you’re homesick. Well, don’t be. The garden is full of weeds. Dad is cross. Mom is sick in bed. The little kids are fighting. I’m canning peaches. The floor is sticky. The flies haven’t died. I repeat, DON’T MISS HOME . . . enjoy Hawaii while you can.” Amazing the power that letter gave me to refocus.

Here are a few great things I have to look forward to. You’ll see why it’s embarrassing for me to get hung up looking backwards when forwards has so much in it.


1. I got my menagerie of supplies organized so I can work on some projects this fall. This is a huge improvement over the antique washtub and assortment of boxes and bags I have been using. Now I’ll be able to work on projects without taking over the kitchen table for a week at a time because I can work from the cart and then wheel it away. I have several scrapbook projects that need finished and two Christmas advents. I’ll post the ideas as I finish (or give) them.

Cali-me-Ande at West Point 2007

2. In two weeks we head back to New York for Abe’s “ring week-end” at West Point. Ring weekend celebrates Firsties, or seniors. There will be an official ceremony as well as a formal banquet and dinner. Abe also has a football game that weekend in New Jersey. He is the quarterback for the Sprint Football team and it’s always fun to watch him play. I love the spirit of West Point. It is on a bend of the Hudson River that was strategic during the Revolutionary War. The granite buildings are solemn and sturdy and it’s an honor to be able to walk among America’s history. It’s also inspiring to associate with the young men and women who are preparing to serve our country and lead our military.

3. I read an article on Alaska Governor Sarah Palin a few months ago after she’d just given birth to their fifth child. I was impressed with her story and admired her values, confidence, influence and vision. After being announced as Senator John McCain’s running mate today, it will be interesting watching this presidential race, especially because of the passion people feel for their candidate.

4. I came home from work today and Ande had dusted and vacuumed everything as well as cleaned the kitchen. She said, “I thought you’d enjoy a Saturday with everything already done.” So I have a tomorrow to look forward to that doesn’t include dusting, vacuuming or cleaning. (And I thought I missed pigtails.)

5. A friend called tonight and wants to go yard-saling tomorrow. We haven’t gone together in a few years and we’re a perfect pair-she likes glass, I like baskets. We’ve only wanted the same thing once.

6. We have a trip to Utah, a trip to Idaho and a trip to Philadelphia this Fall. Add the Scrapbook Retreat in November and that’s a lot of times to get to eat out.

See what I mean? Longing for people in the past makes no sense when I have such opportunities with those same people in the future does it?

Do you get nostalgic? For what?

What is something you look forward to this Fall?

Gift Idea--Sympathy Tokens

It all started at our first retreat at Mountain River Lodge. Thirty plus scrapbooking ladies minding their own business (there’s a lot of business to mind at those retreats and everybody stays busy), when the owners of the lodge had a crisis. One of their brothers, who lived less than a mile away, had suddenly died of a heart attack. Thirty of us were feeling sadly for a family in mourning and wishing we could do something to help. Michelle, an organized and quick-thinking scrapper, suggested we make a memory book for the owners. Each of us made a 4” x 6” layout without a picture and put it in a small album. The family added their favorite pictures and had a instant and valuable memento.

A few weeks ago, one of our scrappers from the Mountain River Lodge Retreat passed away unexpectedly. Again, many of us were feeling sadly for a family in mourning so Alyson, a creative genius, offered to put a tag book together for Cynthia's family. Whoever wanted to make a tag in Cynthia's memory was encouraged to do so. I don’t have a copy of the completed book, but here is my tag. (The folder opens out to a small picture of Cynthia and the reasons why I love her.) Alyson will take all of the completed tags and compile them into a momento for the family.

Just a couple of sympathy token ideas and one reason I love scrapbooking and scrapbookers.

Do you have a token of sympathy idea? I would love to hear it.

Homemaking Tip--Cake and Soap

We made cake pops for the better part of the afternoon. Cali instigated the project and made a double batch while Ande was the tester. I thought the cutest ones were the chocolate cake balls dipped in white chocolate and then sprinkled with little black and orange ghosts. However, the plain white one did look pretty in the cupcake paper set on a pale pink, Depression glass plate.

Homemaking tip for the day: I get mildly disgusted with myself when I find something that I eschew as costly and consequently don't purchase, only to find it really could have saved me money in the long run. My discovery this year was shower gel. I thought the price of a bar of soap could not be beat until I included the cleaning supplies it takes to get the soap scum off the shower walls; this increases the price of the bar significantly. Shower gel, on the other hand, does not leave the soap scum build-up, and comparatively saves money and time because I don’t have to scrub the shower as often. Oh . . . I hate it when the cheap side gets the best of me.

What? You already knew this tip and have been using shower gel for years?

Does the cheap side ever get the best of you? Please, please tell me I'm not alone.

SPT-- Citius. Altius. Fortius.

Today is my last day of summer break and the end of uncomplicated mornings. No more sunning my legs in the porch rocking chairs while talking on the phone, reading a book or eating fresh peaches (or berries) and toast. No more morning walks. No more “no worries, I’ll do it in the morning.” No more morning blogging. No more sleeping in till 6:00. No more showering at 10:00.

Summer is a time of refortification. Here’s to a stronger nine months ahead because of a slower, lower-obligation summer.

How about you, does summer make you stronger or weaker?

Monday Memories--School List

Hollister Grade School built in the early 1900's

(my grandfather went to school here as well as me and all of my siblings and Cali, Abe, Ty and Ande)

I stopped at Wal-Mart with a list. I needed milk and dental floss. I came out with a bag of tortilla chips, 2 cantaloupe, 10 plums, 6 bananas, 2 boxes of Honey Bunches of Oats and 2 gallons of milk and dental floss. That store just does it to me, even with the best written list I come out with more.

The man in front of me in the check-out line was buying school supplies for his little girl. He kept checking the brightly colored school list as he unloaded his cart. A few things that didn't appear to be on his list or in his cart that I remembered taking to school were

1. Oil cloths. In first grade oil cloths were on our list. We each took an 18” square of tablecloth material so that we could roll our clay out without getting our desks dirty. Come clay time our classroom was a colorful quilt of mismatched oilcloths.

2. White paste. We also took crayons, Big Chief tablets, #2 pencils, watercolor paints and white school paste to school. Markers, colored pencils and glue weren’t allowed in first grade, but by third grade the teachers thought we could handle a tube of glue. We quickly proved our maturity by making fake fingernails with it. I think Starla taught us how. We turned our paints over so that we had a long, smooth surface and then spread a thin layer of glue across it. We slid the paints carefully back into our desks and let the glue dry for a day or two. When there were no white spots left we cut it into ten little oblongs to fit over our fingernails. We cut a few terrifically long ones as well as shorter ones. This kept us busy many recesses and sometimes the boys even helped us cut them out, too.

3. Nestle's Quick. Another thing we kept in our desk was a little baby food jar (most of us had baby brothers or sisters) full of Nestle's Quick and a broken plastic spoon. Every afternoon before the last recess we had to drink a carton of milk. Gag. We couldn’t go outside until the teacher shook our carton and said it was empty. I dreaded milk time until someone (again, I think it was Starla) brought some Nestle's Quick and put a couple of spoonfuls in her milk carton and shook it before drinking it. Best grade school fad we had, next to rollerskates at recess.

Did you make glue fingernails or was that a Starla thing?

Did you like the smell of paste as much as I did?

What was your favorite school supply?

52 Blessings-Sounds

two sounds I love—Ty laughing and ocean waves


One of my favorite days to post is Sunday. I enjoy blessings, I guess. This week I’m grateful I can hear and am posting twenty specific sounds that I like:

the dishwasher hum (it’s a loaded sound because it means every one is full and the kitchen is clean)
Calvin’s soft snore (not to be confused with his loud snore)
whisperings of the Spirit
leaves
thunder
a little child’s lisp or r’s that are w’s
people singing hymns (it doesn’t matter if the voices are good or not)
a quiver in a voice that is saying something important
birds—especially morning doves, quail, kill-deer, hens and a rooster’s crow
the wind
Calvin and our kids’ voices talking, laughing, singing, whispering. (I’m not fond if arguing)
the fiddle
mooing
the dull thud of a tapped lid when a canning jar has sealed
pencil lead writing on paper
the computer ding signaling an e-mail has come in
the sprinklers
the mantel clock’s tick and chime
ocean whooshes
popcorn popping

What are three of your favorite sounds?

Life in My World

Yesterday when I pulled in to get a chocolate ice cream cone I noticed that Dairy Queen has my favorite thing, the Peanut Buster Parfait, on sale for $2.49. I argued, “Just because it’s on sale does not mean you need it. Sale price or no it still has the same amount of calories. Make the smarter choice and stick with the ice cream.” The girl asked for my order and I gave it: “One small chocolate ice cream cone please” and she answered, “That will be $1.94 at the window.” I’m no mathematician, but I know that $1.94 is only 55 cents away from $2.49 and that a cup, spoon, peanuts, hot fudge and a bigger swirl of ice cream are included in that 55 cents, so I said, “Please scratch that for a Peanut Buster Parfait.” I can't out argue a 55 cent peanut protein, dairy product and chocolate anti-oxidant bargain.

My scrapbooking friend, Donna who lives in Bigger Town, spent last night with us so she could attend Cynthia’s funeral today. I never think about how lumpy our beds are or how loud and early the roosters crow until we have company. Donna is a gracious guest and acts like she enjoys them both. Speaking of Cynthia’s funeral, her husband, Matt, spoke at it and did such a good job. All the speakers prior to him had told how much Cynthia loved to have fun. Matt said Cynthia never wanted a somber funeral, no matter what, so he told us all to feel under our pews because someone was going to be the lucky recipient of a prize. Sure enough. There was an envelope under one of the seats that contained a gift of fun on Cynthia—a certificate to her favorite restaurant. I’m adding that idea to my funeral plans.

Sur-prize, sur-prize, sur-prize! I was in the kitchen this evening and guess who came to the back door? One of the greatest missionaries with the best grin, laugh and heart. What a happy and impressive guy. He finished serving his mission here for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints six weeks ago and came back for a quick visit before his college classes begin on Monday. Oh, it is great to see him and was such a wonderful and unexpected surprise. In fact, just a couple of days ago I was thinking of him and thought, “Awww. It’s too bad we’ll probably never get to see him again.” He visited with Calvin and me while I fixed him a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches (he's easy to please) then he went to see other friends while we went to a wedding reception. He’ll be back later to spend the night. I just wish a grin, attitude and laugh like his was available at Dairy Queen.

Have you had a good surprise lately and what, praytell, would you order at DQ if I were buying?

Gift Idea-Chinese Style

I shared this idea in a newsletter two weeks ago, but liked it so well I’m sharing it twice. Besides, time is running out to use it!

1. Decorate a Chinese take-out box with the Five Olympic Rings

2. Fill the box with candy or caramel/flavored popcorn (country’s colors) and a Fortune cookie

3. Print the Olympic creed on a tag and attach to the take-out box handle. The Olympic Creed: “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.”

4. Give as a gift to friends, co-workers, teachers, students, visiting teachers, visiting teachees . . . anybody.

I read these Official Guidelines to gift-giving in China and thought they were interesting and well worth sharing, because you never know when you might have the opportunity to give someone in China a gift and you don't want to make the mistake of giving a clock or fan or green hat.

• Lavish gift-giving was once an important part of Chinese culture. Today, official policy forbids gift-giving as it can be considered bribery.


• The Chinese do not usually accept a gift, invitation or favor when it is first presented, but will politely refuse two or three times to reflect modesty and humility. Accepting something in haste makes a person look aggressive and greedy, as does opening it in front of the giver.


• When or if a gift is given, it should be offered with two hands. Any gift offered with two hands should always be received with two hands.


• It's traditional to bring a gift when invited to someone's home. Fresh flowers or fruit are your best bet, and it is a good idea to bring eight, rather than the typical Western dozen. Eight is a lucky number.
  
• Never give a clock as a gift. Traditional superstitions regard this as counting the seconds to the recipient's death. Another interpretation of this is that the phrase "to give clock" in Chinese is song zhong, which is a homophone of a phrase for attending a funeral.


• Also avoid giving fans. The word fan (shan) sounds like san, meaning scatter or to loose. San kai means to split up. Traditionally, the bride gives her parents a fan, symbolizing that she is leaving them for her husband.


• Never give a man a green hat. The Chinese saying "wearing a green hat" means someone's wife is unfaithful.


• If possible, have your gifts wrapped in red paper, which is considered a lucky color. Pink, gold and silver are also acceptable colors for gift wrap. Gifts wrapped in yellow paper with black writing are given only to the dead. Also, check on the regional variations of color meanings - a safe color in Beijing could get you in trouble in Shenzhen. Your safest option is to entrust the task of gift-wrapping to a store or hotel that offers this service.

Homemaking Tip--Pies

Cali didn’t like to work in the kitchen; Ande didn’t like to work outside. Both had to learn each, but if we were choosing chores you could bet Ande would cook while Cali pulled weeds.

Ande quickly learned the better she got in the kitchen the higher her chances of getting to stay inside were. She became an expert pie maker.

Cali was good outside which ensured her chances of getting those chores. I worried a little that she wasn’t more proficient in the kitchen, but a good friend told me to relax. She said as long as I had taught her to read a recipe and the importance of good food for a family she’d get it when she needed it. I relaxed and I’m glad I did.

Last week Ande made a couple of peach pies. Yesterday she made two blackberry pies. Today she’s helping Cali make a blackberry and a peach pie for a company dinner Cali's attending with a friend. Here’s a snippet of the conversation going on in the kitchen:

Cali: “What are you doing?”
Ande: “I’m getting cold, cold, cold water.”
Cali: “What for?”
Ande: “Because the dough does funky stuff if you don’t.”

Ande starts measuring the flour out of the bin . . .

Ande: “Okay Cali, this is what you do with the flour. You make it very fluffy.”

Cali begins to help . . .

Cali: “I’m making a mess. . . . Mom, you are on clean-up duty.”
Pause . . . “Mom, you’re not doing a very good job.”

(Of course I’m not, I’m too busy recording their conversation . . .)

Cali: “I need help!”
Ande: “Cali, what do you think I’m doing.”
Cali: “You’re doing a great job, honey. It’s mom. . . . Mom! Help! Getting a husband is NOT easy.”

A few minutes later . . . Ande is mixing dough, Cali is peeling peaches.

Ande: “Half the Crisco, Cali, and smoosh it with the giant fork.”
Cali “Why half?”
Ande: “‘Cause it works. Come look at my mixture.”
Cali: “Come see my peaches.”

Cali continues to peel peaches, Ande continues to make the dough.

Ande: “Cali, come watch the tricky part.
Cali: “Um hum . . . nice little ball.”
Ande: “Lots of flour and always use the marble rolling pin.”

Ande begins to direct Cali on how to mix the peach pie filling. She tells her where the things are in the cupboards: cornstarch, nutmeg, tapioca, etc . . . .

Ande: “Get the cornstarch, Cali. It’s in a container up above the bread.”
Cali: “Mom, you’ve been buying this in bulk these days? When did you start buying cornstarch in bulk?”
Ande: “Cali, how long has it been since you’ve been in the kitchen?”
Me: “I’ve been buying cornstarch in bulk since you wore diapers and I used it for your diaper rash.”
Cali: “Oh. I guess I hadn’t noticed.”

Cali begins mixing sugar, thickening agents and spices in with peaches.

Cali: “Ande, you do know these peaches are dry don’t you? Should I smash them?”
Ande: “Just stir Cali.”

Cali stirs and stirs and stirs.

Cali: “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

Cali snorts and laughs uncontrollably at herself.

Cali: “I can’t believe I just used that term.”

Cali continues to stir.

Cali: “Hey, Ande. Look at this SAUCE! Who’d have guessed? Sugar and fruit make juice.”

The girls' banter continues back and forth.

Cali occasionally says, “Wait! I need to learn how”
and Ande responds, “Don’t worry, Cali. Cali. Quit worrying. Cali. I see you are still worrying.”

Cali did not need to worry:

The homemaking tips today come from my friend and Ande:

1. “Relax. Teach her how to read a recipe and the importance of good food to a family and she’ll get it when she needs it.”

2. Ande always seals the inside of her pie crust with mixed egg whites. She brushes it on before adding her fruit filling and it keeps the fruit juice from soaking through and making the crust soggy.

3. Ande also adds 3 Tbs of quick tapioca and 3 Tbs of cornstarch to her berry pies. They gel so nicely and keep their shape when cut.

• Are you more proficient inside or outside?
• Did you like to learn to cook or did your mom have to relax and let you learn to cook when necessity prevailed?
• Peach or blackberry?

SPT-Citius (faster)

Last night for Family Home Evening at the Singles’ Ward, we made homemade ice cream. Out of original boxes came new-ish cool blue and pretty pink ice cream freezers. Calvin and I plopped our rust bucket on the counter with the others. It was less than sleek, cool or pretty. In fact it didn’t even look sanitary. However,

darned if it didn’t get the ice cream frozen much faster than the other freezers. Evidently old is sometimes faster, just like the 38 year old Romanian woman who won the Olympic Marathon last week. I enjoyed watching her run the last few miles—she was hardly the sleekest, coolest or had the prettiest gait, but darned if she didn’t cross the line faster than everyone else. Citius anicula.

“Sometimes age succeeds, sometimes it fails. It depends on you.” ~Ravensara Noite

52 Blessings--Oil

This morning we voted on how to cook the halibut for supper—deep-fried or grilled. My vote was grilled but I was outnumbered and deep-fried won. I dreaded the oiliness of the fish until . . . I thought of my friend, Emilie. Emilie was our neighbor in Southern Idaho who had immigrated to the United States from Germany. Emilie was a little girl under Hitler’s regime. She vividly recalled playing next door with her Jewish friend when the Gestapo barged in and dragged Emilie and her friend’s family to the backs of waiting trucks. Emilie’s mother saw the commotion and ran frantically across the yard waving her daughter’s birth certificate in the air and shouting, “She’s not a Jew! My little girl is German.” After checking the certificate the Gestapo unloaded Emilie, but hauled away her friend’s family. Emilie never saw them again. She told us many stories of foraging through the woods with her sister and mother for rabbits and greens to help their poor diets.

We used to have magnificent thunderstorms in Idaho and Emilie hated them. Though in her seventies, she hid in her closet with a pillow over her head and quivered during the flashes of lightning and the booms of thunder. One day a thunderstorm broke while she was visiting us. She nervously fussed at the kids to come to the center of the house, then begged us all to climb under the supper table with her for protection. The look of terror in her eyes at each streak of lightning and crash of thunder reflected a little girl quaking at exploding bombs in the night sky. She trembled with each rumble.

Emilie always made sure our children ate butter while they were at her house. She constantly warned me to keep plenty of oil in their diets. In her German accent, she’d say, “Honey, I vremember how sickly we got because we didn’t have any fats in our diets. The thin little vrabbits we ate didn’t offer much and we didn’t have any oil or butter. I vremember when we finally got oil after the Occupation, we fried our potatoes in it and it tasted soooo good.” She’d smack her lips and say, “Now, honey, it’s not the oil you’re thinking of—it was thick, green motor oil, but our bodies were so starved we ate it right up.”

Tonight the crisp, deep-fried halibut did indeed taste good and rather than curse the extra calories (thanks to Emilie's voice in my memory), I decided to be grateful for having plenty of nutrients that my family needs so that we are healthy instead. (Oh, and I’m also thankful for mineral oil. I would be one itching post if it weren’t for lotion and really appreciate Bath & Body Works Moonlit Path, Sweet Pea and Pear.)

Have you ever had to worry about not having enough oil in your diet? (Is it possible in today's fast-food society?) What is your favorite food cooked in oil? What's your favorite brand and smell of lotion?