Pear and Apple Crisp

I MADE THIS FOR MY FATHER, A DIABETIC, WITH A REDUCED SUGAR CAKE MIX, SPLENDA IN WHITE AND BROWN SUGAR SUBSTITUTES.  YOU CAN USE REFINED SUGAR AND AUTHENTIC BROWN SUGAR. 

I HAD SEEN RECIPES BEFORE THAT CALLED FOR CARAMEL, NUTS, AND PEELED FRUIT OR CANNED/FROZEN FRUIT, BUT I LOVE TO COOK AND BAKE WITH THE BEST OF THE SEASON'S FRESH PRODUCE, UNPEELED, AND JUST ENOUGH SPICE TO ENHANCE THE  NATURAL FLAVORS.

IF YOU CAN'T FIND PEARS, THIS RECIPE WILL BE GREAT WITH JUST APPLES.  ALSO, IT IS WONDERFUL WITH FRESH PINEAPPLE INSTEAD OF, OR IN ADDITION TO, THE PEARS.

INGREDIENTS:

1 BOX BUTTER CAKE MIX  (YOU CAN USE A REDUCED SUGAR MIX LIKE PILSBURY)

1 AND 1/2 CUP QUAKER OATS (REGULAR, NOT QUICK COOKING OR INSTANT)

1 STICK OF UNSALTED BUTTER, MELTED IN THE MICROWAVE

1 CUP OF FIRMLY PACKED BROWN SUGAR (SPLENDA BROWN SUGAR ALSO WORKS, JUST DOUBLE THE AMOUNT)

5 TBSP.  VANILLA EXTRACT

2 AND 1/2 TSPN.  PUMPKIN PIE SPICE

2 TBSP. CINNAMON

2 PEARS (I LOVE BOSC, RED, ASIAN AND OTHER VARIETIES, BUT ANY FRESH PEAR WILL WORK)

4 LARGE APPLES (I MIX TART, FUJI, AND RED)

2/3 CUP OF RAISINS  (THIS IS HOW I SLOWLY MANAGED TO GET MY HUSBAND TO EAT RAISINS...NO KIDDING)

BUTTER FLAVORED NON-STICK SPRAY

PRE-HEAT OVEN TO 400 DEGREES AND SPRAY A 9" X 13"  PAN OR GLASS BAKING DISH WITH NON-STICK SPRAY

MELT BUTTER. SET ASIDE.

CUT APPLES AND PEARS.  DO NOT PEEL THE FRESH FRUIT...VARY THE SIZES WITH PEARS IN 4-6 PIECES EACH, CUT APPLES WITH NONE MORE THAN 1" X 1" IN SIZE.  THE VARIOUS SIZES OF FRUIT GIVE THE END PRODUCT A BETTER BLEND OF TEXTURE AND MORE FLAVOR.

ADD RAISINS, PUMPKIN PIE SPICE, CINNAMON, AND BROWN SUGAR TO FRUIT AND TOSS TO COAT.

ADD OATS AND VANILLA TO THE FRUIT AND MIX WELL, THEN CAKE MIX AND MELTED BUTTER.

MIXTURE WILL BE LUMPY AND UNEVEN.   SOME DRY MIX WILL REMAIN UNTIL CRISP IS BAKED COMPLETELY.
SCOOP INTO BAKING DISH AND BAKE 35-45 MINUTES, CHECKING EVERY 20 MINUTES OR SO TO AVOID BURNING.

Bittersweet

Fall in the South. 

 My first thoughts are football, pumpkins, Sunday drives in the North Georgia Mountains, the taste of Maker's Mark enjoyed by an outdoor fire, sweaters, cool crisp air that replaces the humidity of the summer's sweltering temperatures.

A time of to celebrate the harvest, bake pies and warm our hands around mugs of apple cider.

Aromas of vanilla, cloves, and brown sugar have always made me think of fall as the sweetest time of the year. 
Sweet rich colors of gold and red on the maple trees outside my windows.
Sweet scented candles.
Fall festivals and caramel apples and hayrides...all sweet cherished memories.

Time to wind down, take on a slower pace, to linger outside until the last bit a light is erased from the sky....to rest up before the entertaining season of Thanksgiving and the round of holiday parties I look forward to every year. 

This year, the season is bittersweet.
The fall season of 2009 I will remember as the time I learned that my dear friend had cancer that metastasized to her liver. And I'll remember the quiet, more measured tone of her voice, the careful, deliberate words she used as she repeated her oncologist's prognosis to me.

She has the best laugh in the world.

 It's full of life and joy and totally lacking self-consciousness. Sweet happiness echoing from her soul with no need for words nor expression.
Just four days ago, she was at my kitchen table pouring through medical websites, facing the test results and upcoming appointment with her doctor, still laughing through it all. 

 Hopeful.

Today, when she told me that she was too anemic to take her chemotherapy treatment, her tone was one of tired frustration.
Her doctor has given her very little hope.

She can't accept that.
 I can't accept that; we are planning to travel to M.D. Anderson in Houston as soon as possible and speak to specialists there.
Or the Mayo Clinic.
Or Europe.
We had a great time the last time we left the country together; I wish our future travel was under better circumstances.
In the meantime, when she's up to it, I'm going to suggest all the fall rituals I can think of to raise her spirits.
Perhaps we'll start with a trip to Helen for a bite at the Troll Tavern.
If you happen to be on one of those narrow mountain roads and notice two women in a convertible acting a little crazy...it just might be us.

Laughing and crying.
Our time bittersweet.

Schools Closed Today in Gwinnett

'I'm homeschooling my daughter today, although not by choice. 
 The rain that was  needed for the past two years in Atlanta is here now. 
We prayed for rain, you know.
Last year, Governor Purdue led the state on a prayer vigil for rain. I, along with every other God-fearing Georgian joined him.  Of course, the local news showed some atheist who opposed the public prayers for rain, but we paid him no attention and focused on the matter at hand. 
Our land needed divine intervention. 
Lawsuits with our neighboring states were sparked by the water shortage. We heard all sorts of interesting facts about mussels in Florida. No one really cared except a small group of environmentalists.  The phrase water rights became fighting words and a very nasty debate ensued between our Governor and his counterpart in Alabama.  Both fine Southern gentlemen, I'm sure.
Good thing the dueling pistol tradition ended long ago.
 There were wildfires in South Georgia, lakes drying up, and experts were predicting that Atlanta might run out of water.  People gave you hateful stares if your vehicle was not clearly filthy on the outside and neighbors eyed any patch of lawn with even a touch of green remaining with suspicion.  It was ugly.
Taught by both parents that God answers prayer in HIS TIME and HIS WAY, I am firmly convinced now more than ever that the teachings of my childhood were correct.
It rained.
By this spring and summer, the water restrictions were eased a bit. 
Lake levels rose. It's true that Lake Hartwell and Lake Lanier were not perfect, but they were much improved.
Cars were washed on a regular basis. My garden was revived.  Flowers bloomed. Pangs of guilt over my two hour baths  disappeared.  I stopped fretting over how much water was used as I brushed my teeth or  the number of gallons that I poured daily on the deck plants.


We haven't been wasteful of the water this year...it's been enough and we have appreciated things getting back to normal. 
Normal is always short-lived in the South.
Raindrops those first few days last week were a welcome break from the constant watering in the garden and a lower water bill was an added bonus. But the prolonged clouds and precipitation became annoying when local events were cancelled and cabin fever set in.  Tennis, golf and football games were postponed.
Today it's downright dangerous.
Newspapers are reporting that we've had between 15 to 20 inches of rain this past weekend and more is on the way.  Citizens from Acworth to Snellville are trapped in their subdivisions either because of flooding or massive sink holes. Roads are washing away. 
There was a mudslide on Hwy 78 near Hugh Howell Road.  A lake in my parent's Stone Mountain community is overflowing after its' dam broke last night. 
 One woman drowned  this morning as the road beneath her car collapsed.  Many trees, weakened by the earlier drought, are falling all over metro Atlanta, causing power outages and even more road closings.  
Schools are closed.
Here at home, I've said my prayers of thanks for the new roof we added last month. In spite of the fact that we have a service to clean our gutters on a regular basis, water is overflowing in this latest downpour.  Never, in my thirty-plus years,  have I seen this much rain.
The Mid-Western Yankee and I are considering the construction of an ark.
And the purchase of  strong anti-depressants for every member of our household; I'll never comprehend how people live with ongoing rainy weather in places like London or Seattle.
Southerners are just not designed to tolerate gloomy inclement weather for weeks and weeks on end.
My daughter, myself, and even our beloved Japanese Chin named Fuji, have been taking more naps these days.  Fuji weighs nine pounds, is deaf, hates cold weather, loves cheese and MWY more than life itself. 
The vibrations from our recent thunderstorms have scared him to death. 
He's smart. He's stubborn. He's Southern at heart and adamantly refuses to go outside in the dampness unless we bribe him with limitless treats and adoration.
My thirteen year old daughter is currently more depressed than the dog. 
Upon learning of today's school closings, her huge white smile quickly turned to a sour expression when I informed her that we would be using our time today for review of her studies on India, China, Japan, and North and South Korea.  We have a schedule of one hour study time with a half hour break every ninety minutes. 
 Needless to say, it's going to be a long day for both of us.
MWY has acquired a sore throat and is working at home this week.  He happily disappeared into his man-cave office well away from the homework war here at the kitchen table.
Thunderstorms are in the forecast for this afternoon. And with them, eight or more inches of rain.
At this rate, my dog will be psychotic, my husband will turn into a basement dwelling hermit, my daughter will hate me and I'll take up drinking in the afternoons...if we don't all get washed away first.
In the meantime, I am hoping for a patch of blue sky to appear soon.
I'll be as happy to see these rain clouds leave as I'm sure my ancestors were when they bid good-bye to the last carpetbagger to cross the state line headed back up north.
 And to quote Scarlett O'Hara...Tomorrow is another day.

Time to Call the Geek Squad

Last weekend when the Mid Western Yankee

and I leaving to start a series of  shopping errands, the phone rang.

 It was my mother saying that Daddy wanted to speak with MWY.

My father doesn't like to talk on the phone so it had to be important, but I couldn't imagine what had happened now to warrant a phone call to MWY on a Saturday morning.

MWY took the call inside while I took care of some plants and waited to hear about the day's request from Stone Mountain.

When MWY informed me that he was given the task of getting a computer for my parents, I about fell over in surprise.  My mother and father are eighty-two and eighty three respectively and the only computer my mother has ever seen had punch cards, as in a 1950's mainframe that took up a room all by itself.

A week later, MWY, ordered the computer after much research.

 It's going to be delivered in two weeks or so.

This ought to be good. 

I have a feeling that every employee from

the Geek Squad is soon going to know my parents very well!

The Best Time

Perhaps it's the scent of coffee brewing or the way the warm mugs feels in my hand, the stillness of the house and garden, the absence of interruptions or the anticipation of a new day, but the early morning hours are my best time.

Or it could just be another verification that I have, in fact, reached middle age and no longer require as much sleep.

Either way, these hours are when I plan the upcoming errands and events of the day, catch up on e-mail and jot down a few lines on my mindless little blog here. 

The very best days are mornings on the beach watching the sun come up. Each coast has it's perks...the big orange fireball rising over the Atlantic never fails to captivate me, but in Puerto Vallarta, on the western coast of Mexico, the sun rises over the dark purple mountains, illuminating them with golden rays until it reflects on the Pacific.  Sunrises in Puerto Vallarta  are in the hues of the most precious jewels. Sunlight dances on the sapphire water, the trees on the mountains appear either as emeralds or deep amethyst depending on the hour. The sun is golden there, not the harsh light of the Caribbean.  And once in a while, very rarely, visitors are treated to the green light on the horizon at sunset.

Several years ago, we spent Christmas in Puerto Vallarta and celebrated the day with hot chocolate on the beach as we waited for the sunrise.  That day has stayed with my daughter more than any other Christmas morning memory.  She doesn't recall the long lists of toys and presents every year, but she remembers that one special sunrise.

I had only married the Mid-Western Yankee the month before so the trip was our new family's first Christmas together.  And wanting a fresh start, I broke with tradition and left the holiday chaos and cold weather behind.  I traded turkey for fish tacos, coats for flip flops, mistletoe for suntan lotion.  It was grand!  We skipped the shopping and enjoyed our time together and for once, I wasn't exhausted on Christmas morning.

On a more recent trip, I spent my birthday on the beach in Charleston.  I cannot imagine a better way to celebrate than walking along the Atlantic shore with my daughter when the sun was not yet up.

It's these mornings I treasure.

The daylight has appeared as I've been rambling here and since it's not raining right now, I think I'll take my coffee outside and enjoyed my favorite time of the day.