The Admission

How goes the boycott? I swear, if I see any Michael McLean contraband at your homes this Christmas, you’ll be blacklisted. Forgotten Carols indeed. Moohahahaha…

Whoah. Halloween is over, better put the crazy away there, Angela.

Anways, there’s something you should know about me. I was not primed to be a domestic... well, anything, in any way. Well. That’s not true. My mother is a very clean person, so you’d think it would have rubbed off on unto me, but alas, it was scrubbed away in her efforts. Sorry, Mom.
But, that is another topic for another day.

Today, I’d like to tell discuss admit to you my cooking habits.
A term coined by Sandra Lee, Semi-Home Cooking is an accurate description for my culinary concoctions. If it isn’t cheap or easy, it isn’t on my menu.
First step in the program is admitting I have a problem:I am a wife and mother who serves her family seven-layered dip, tortilla chips and cheese crisps for dinner one night, then chicken salad sandwiches and a bagged green salad the next. I have canned soup in my pantry! And I have every intent of using it – and none of my plans involve a casserole! Just a side of grilled cheese. (Oh the humanity!)
I like tried, tired and true. Recipes that give me consistent results, even when I don’t use exact measurements because I used all my measuring cups the day before and don’t feel like washing them... or let’s face it, I never measure-out any ingredients anyways so how those instruments got dirty is a mystery. I suspect Caleb.
A Kerri-Strugg-kind-of-a-recipe. That’s what I like.
One-legged and bringing home the gold. USA! USA!

Whew. Got sidetracked there. Again.

Ever heard “misery loves company”? Well, so does sloth and gluttony.

So here are some of my moose fool-proof recipes:

A Chicken Salad for all Seasons…

First thing you need to know is I love chicken salad sandwiches. I have fond memories of Girls’ Camp that involve consuming chicken salad-filled pitas. Second thing you need to know is that it just isn’t chicken salad without grapes. I know there is an anti-grape sentiment regarding chicken salad in some communities that rivals that of the great pickle and tunasalad segregation, but I’ve already admitted that I have no conscience, grudges, or scruples so I am blameless therefore, do not judge me.

Every General Conference I make chicken salad. I have mentioned that before. My recipe is similar to Pioneer Women’s recipe found here. But my sauce is pretty basic:
Now. While ca-ruising the grocery store yesterday, I noticed that grape prices are on the rise again. This happens if the state you live in doesn’t directly touch or touch a neighboring state that touches California or Florida. So, what does a member of the pro-grape party like myself do come winter?
I’ll tell you…
Craisins. That’s right my friends. Craisins. Omit the dill weed and add some rosemary or thyme.

Thank me later.

Crockpot Chicken
A recipe properly renamed from Cream Cheese Chicken since if I have chicken and if I plan on using the crockpot sometime that month I make this recipe, no matter what. It is the absolute.

It. is. CrOcKpOt ChIcKeN!

I serve it over rice with a side of bread or cooked frozen veggies. A popular leave-it-and-go-to-church Sunday dinner at our house.

So Easy You’ll Feel Bad Cobbler
So you eat it all and feel better

1 can of cherry pie filling
1 can of pineapple pie filling
1 box of yellow cake mix
About ½ C of melted butter (I don’t measure!)

Mix fillings together and pour into a long cassie dish. Sprinkle cake mix over the top. Cover cake mix layer with melted butter. Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes or until edges are golden brown. Let setup for ten minutes before serving.

This past week I received the token week-worth of meals
from my Relief Society sisters.
Thank you for cooking with compassion and a conscience.

My family is grateful.

Every now and again
we need some comfort cooking.
Then again, maybe just comfort.

PS Brownie points if you know the pickle-tunasalad debate reference. Leave a comment. And admit you had to look it up. : )

Needlesstosay

I’m going to say something, something that seems not needed to be said,

a needlesstosay,

but I’m going to say it anyways, so you know and so I know, for our benefit.
In the past I have discussed many topics on this blog. I have written about marriage, genealogy, moosen, religion, fears, weaknesses, and shortcomings in faith, motherhood, and domestic skills that are close to godliness.
But there comes a time when every blogger needs to draw a line when typing.

This is me drawing the line.

I will not be publishing any post about Emma’s delivery or funeral service. Why? In the eloquent words of someone I blog stalk, regarding her own daughter’s funeral,

“because the events were far too special and sacred
to be written on anything called a blog…"

Don’t misunderstand me. I will be recording these experiences, just not for the general public.
I feel driven to record and preserve this journey for other generations. Genealogy has been a great comfort to our family during these events, in several ways. For one, since no one in my immediate family has suffered a miscarriage or stillbirth, it was comforting to be able to identity with my grandmother Kappes, and great, great grandmother Peterson, who both endured losing children. Drawing from stories my father had told me and census records, I established a bond with my foremothers over tragedy and hope.
Several instances, I have wished I could talk to my grandmothers or read their thoughts.
Whenever I instruct about personal history, I always prompt, “If you could interview an ancestor right now, what would you want to know?” Your answers are what you should be writing about for future generations RIGHT NOW.
Practicing what I preach, here. Just not here, in blogdom.

Thank you again, for everything, and especially for reading. I have a special reader out there that doesn’t comment, and I just want her to know the unwritten comments are often the best. : )

Soon I will be posting an actual full-fledged Angela post. Soon.
Sooner than later. Maybe this week.

PS My mailbox is still hungry. : (
Begin the Deseret Book boycott now.

INSIDE: Where The Wild Things Are...

Happy Halloween!

From Michael, Angela and the monkey