Sunday, Red Sunday

As we were finishing up dinner tonight, I asked if we should all hurry up and head out doors to run some wiggles out of our Hugo. Cesar said he wanted to change the oil in his truck. It would be up to me alone to run the wiggles out of our Hugo. I headed upstairs to grab the camera, my flip flops and shoes for Hugo. Cesar was sitting on the steps leading to our front door. He had Hugo on his lap waiting for me to return. As I hurried down the stairs I spied a sweet moment there before me. I snapped up this here blurry photo of Hugo loving on his Papa.

Once outside, Hugo wanted to follow his Papa into the shed and out of the shed only to return once more into the shed, oh, and yes, out of the shed! Cesar was worried about the sun setting before he had a chance to finish his job with the two of us following his every move. Besides, there was a very high, high possibility of Hugo getting into the oil and creating a giganitc mess of himself, us and the truck. The big problem for me, was that Hugo didn't want to leave his Papa's side. How would I ever distract our busy Mr Hugo?

I decided we needed to go on a hike.

Hmmmm. Or, maybe a hunt.

But, not a bear hunt.

Oh, no, no, no. Not, a bear hunt.

This here Momma had her camera and son in hand, but she didn't think she was quite up to SuperMom standards enough to:

A. Find a bear.

B. Keep from screaming if we did.

C. Take a picture. Or really, two, three, okay 5 or 13 pictures. So that there might possibly be one in the bunch that wasn't so shakily blurry that you my friends, could actually tell, that it was a bear that we had found and I had been lucky enough to photograph, said bear, at close range! Phew!!

D. Still Screaming.

E. Run. At this point, I might have flashbacks to P.E. class in high school, when Coach Petryska yelled at me to pump my arms up and down harder. Yeah, right. Like that would have helped me to run the timed mile any faster. Silly Coach P. I know he meant well. But, now with a bear on my tail, I might just start pumping my arms up and down as fast and hard as I can muster.

F. Ummmm? Crap! Where's Hugo?!?!

No, no, no, bear hunts, for this Momma & Son.

Well, unless we are tucked safely upstairs in Hugo's room, rocking away in our glider, reading our Going on a Bear Hunt book, together. Then, we may go on as many bear hunts as my dear Hugo may like! Roar us up a storm even!

We played it safe. We hunted the yard for the color red.

The End.

Sunday Night Magic

Growing up my mother decalred Sunday night dinners ... Survival. Early in the morning she prepared a breakfast which we all gobbled down in between shifts of bathroom time. Once dressed in our freshly pressed dresses and button down shirts our hair was braided and combed. Off to the car we scrambled, elbows flying, calling out for no prisoners to be sure we got our desired seat near a window. Dad was Branch President and had left before us earlier in the morning and would be seated on the stand when we arrived in the chapel. He would wink and sometimes give us a small wave. For a special treat he would on rare occasions invite one of us to come up and sit with him. Mom somehow kept all of us lined up in our row and quiet. At the end of the hour Mother hearded us off to our Primary classes. Church continued for another two hours. When it was time to leave, we again all scrambled to the car for our seats near a window, elbows still flying. Once home, Mom headed straight to the kitchen. We were sent to our rooms to change our clothes, the older children to help the younger. Clambering back up the stairs one at a time our noses led us to Mother's side. How did she do it? How could she have worked kitchen magic so quickly? There on the table our lunch would be waiting for us. The army of bottomless pits that we were made sure the table was emptied in no time. Plates licked clean. Off to naps we were herded, tucked in one at a time. Mom also napped. She was done. Dinner was declared Survival. We ate pretty much what we found. Sometimes Dad would make breakfast again. And sometimes we had Lucky Charms. Our favorite!

Now that I have a family of my own, on occasion I too declare Sunday dinner Survival. But not tonight. Tonight I wanted to whip up a little kitchen magic of my own for Cesar and Hugo. When our meal together was finished, I noticed curiously that their plates were licked clean. I thought of my Mother and a loving smile overcame my face. A little later I mentioned to my husband that I just might want to write about our dinner. He seemed a little surprised. "Kinda strange" I could see written all over his face. I asked what he thought I should call the post and he answered, "Simple, Light, Fresh and Tasty. A keeper." Well, it might just be a little strange to write about our dinner. But it was our dinner. Our Sunday night family magic time.

I grabbed what was currently in the fridge and cupboards.
Tri-Color Pasta
Shredded chicken (left over from earlier in the week)
2 carrots, peeled, julienned
A bunch of asparagus, snap off woody ends, cut into 1.5" pieces
3 Tbls. butter
A good dose of parmesan
Some chicken stock
A couple splashes of cooking Sherry
salt & pepper to taste
parsley (I recently dried some, used only a small amount) and feta cheese to adorn

Cook pasta in lightly salted water. Zap carrots & asparagus in micro. In large saute pan melt butter. Add chicken stock, Sherry, salt & pepper, and some of the pasta water. Add parmesan stir. Drain pasta and add to stock mixture along with chicken and vegetables. Stir till well blended and warmed through. Plate and adorn with the parsley and feta. Enjoy!