Apple Pie Makes Things Better

I made an apple pie this week, which isn’t particularly earth shattering or anything. But it was satisfying in a hippie-earth-mamma kind of way to walk into my backyard, pick apples, and turn them into something delicious. I didn’t have a lot of faith in my pie baking abilities, so I decided to make it really pretty and take a lot of photos, just in case I needed to make the time spent worthwhile.  

One of the things about the internet that makes me INSANE is when you find a recipe on someone’s blog, but you have to wade through two pages of blathering on before you get to the actual recipe.  So without further ado…

Pie Crust

6 cups All Purpose Flour

3 cups chilled Butter

3 teaspoons salt

1 ½ cups ice water

½ teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Mix flour, butter, and salt with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add ice water and apple cider vinegar, mix until dough is smooth. Chill in the refrigerator for 1 hour.

This is supposed to be enough dough to make three, two crust pies. But maybe my pie pan is just really big, because I only ever get two pies out of it.

Roll it out on a floured surface to make your bottom crust.  Good luck making a top crust. I mean, seriously. That is some kind of Martha Stewart wizardry right there.  I always make something with cookie cutters because it seems a lot less complicated. If you can do lattice you are my hero. 

My Grandma Ellie always brushed her top crust with egg whites and a little water to make it shiny.  I also sprinkle sugar on top because I have a problem.

Apple Pie Filling

6-8 cups of peeled, cored, chopped apples

½ cup sugar

½ cup brown sugar

2 tablespoons flour

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon of cinnamon

1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

Juice from half a lemon

Toss it all together. Put it in the pie and bake it at 375 for an hour.

Mmmmkay...here are some things…

1. I should have cooked the apples a little first.  They were a little too crunchy.  It was still delicious, and I like the crunch.  But my kids were like “the apples aren’t soft like applesauce.” 

2. I put foil over the pie for the first 45 minutes while it baked and I’m glad I did because I am forever burning the edges of pies. 

3. If this was a berry pie I probably would have baked the bottom crust for about 8 minutes before putting the berries in. (Because soggy.)

My Dad's Obituary

My Dad, Lou passed away on Tuesday, September 1st, 2020. 

My dad was born in October 1943 in Ilion, New York, the second of three sons to my grandparents, Ron and Ellie. Barry (the oldest), Lou, and Phillip (the baby) kept their parents on their toes. Their childhood stories were two parts Norman Rockwell, one part Lord of the Flies. There was the story about the time it snowed 20 feet and they had to tunnel from the house to the barn to get the milking done. A claim that they were paid to catch frogs for a local French restaurant. Family heirlooms that were purported to have been sourced from the town dump. Tales of tapping maple trees with their grandfather. A particularly harrowing narrative about a pitchfork fight. And a cautionary tale about losing one of their dad’s brand new boots in the river. (The only time we ever had any evidence that Grandpa Ron got mad.)

Lou attended Pulaski Academy and Central School, in northern New York, from kindergarten through grade 12. (Rumor has it that he had to repeat the 8th grade, which will become relevant shortly.) In school he was outgoing and active in sports, and extracurricular activities. As a high school football player he would run off the football field at halftime, quickly change into his band uniform, perform with the marching band, and then suit up to take the field again. He discovered a love of performing in high school, winning a prize speaking contest for “Carmen” by Andy Griffith, and starring in both “I Remember Mama” and “Where’s Charley.” He had many lifelong friends among his classmates in the class of 1961.

Being told he was not college material, Lou joined the Air Force immediately after high school. He was trained as a jet aircraft mechanic, and stationed in Mountain Home in 1962. Wherever his plane went, so did Lou. Fortunately, he did not see combat in Vietnam, but he did spend time in Guam, and Alaska - where he experienced the 9.2 magnitude Great Alaskan Earthquake in 1964. He reported home that the runways rolled like waves on the sea, and his bed on the second floor of the barracks ended up in the grass out front.  

After Lou’s honorable discharge in 1966 he returned to New York where he worked for the Combined Insurance Company. At the time, he was newly married to Linda Crouch of Boise, but the couple divorced amicably after a few years. It wasn’t long before Lou returned to Idaho, and his brothers and parents followed him west in the years after. 

Lou enrolled at Boise Junior College in 1968 and earned his degree in Education in just three years.  He graduated with honors, proving that he was, in fact, college material. Lou was a lifelong BSU fan, and loved watching his Broncos play football and basketball. 

Lou’s first, and last, teaching job was at East Junior High School, where he taught 7th, 8th, and 9th grade history from 1971 - 2000. Over the years thousands of his students learned that all civilized societies had beer in common, medieval etiquette is a little gross, there are more similarities between the major religions of the world than one might expect, all the lyrics to BIlly Joe’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” and much more. He had a special place in his heart for kids who struggled academically, and often joked that he had been teaching 8th grade for so long because of all the trouble he had caused when he was an 8th grader himself.

The only thing Lou loved more than teaching was coaching. During his EJH career he was both the boys and girls basketball coach, the golf coach, the cross country coach, and eventually the Athletic Director. Lou took hundreds of kids to basketball camps and tournaments around the pacific northwest, where he was widely respected as a mentor and coach. Many of his teams saw success on the court. The net from his 1998 9th grade girls championship basketball game still hangs proudly in his workshop.

At East Junior High, Lou fell for the Art Teacher, Karen. Karen's young daughter (that's me!) was the icing on the cake. Lou and Karen married in 1978 and made their home in southeast Boise - literally. Over the years Lou’s skills in building and remodeling transformed the little house he bought in 1970 into a beautiful family home. Lou knew every nail, outlet, baseboard, brick, and shingle. He meticulously cared for the yard, riding around on his lawn mower and waving like a celebrity as former students, friends, and neighbors honked as they drove past.

In 1984, Lou and Karen adopted six year old Alex, from Sao Paulo, Brazil.  Lou’s kids were the center of his world, and they both adored their dad.  He never missed a game, meet, concert, or play. Coaching Alex in baseball, basketball, and cross country were some of his greatest joys.

Lou was an avid golfer who spent many of his summers on fairways all over the Treasure Valley, and working in the cart barn at Plantation Golf Course. For many years he maintained Plantation’s golf carts like they were a fleet of luxury automobiles. Lou’s golf buddies and Plantation coworkers were very dear to him. If you were lucky enough to be Lou’s friend, he treated you like family. In his later years, Lou enjoyed playing poker, and the guys he played cards with were brought under his wing.  He loved being around all kinds of people.

Lou’s second greatest accomplishment was being the World’s Greatest Grandpa. (His first greatest accomplishment was the restoration of his 1956 Chevy.) His grandchildren brought him so much joy. He loved to watch them compete in sports, he encouraged their creative endeavors, and he loved to talk with them about school, friends, and everything important in their lives. He made them laugh. He made them think. He challenged them to be the best versions of themselves in their classrooms, on their teams, and in all their relationships.

Lou’s parents and brothers - Ronald, Eleonor, Barry, and Philip, and enough of his golf buddies to make a formidable foursome, were already waiting for him at the 19th hole in the clouds. Down here on earth, Lou’s wife Karen, his daughter Katie and Son-In-Law Jake, his son Alex, and his grandchildren Tremar, Lauren, Sofia, William, and Darren are missing his mischievous blue eyes, and infectious laugh. We know that the sadness we feel is because we loved someone worth missing. If you knew Lou, especially if you were a student or player of his, we would love for you to share a happy story. If you would like to honor him, our family requests that you consider a donation to the Boise Public Schools Foundation.

That one time you wanted to post something cool that you made to your blog, but you couldn't remember the URL, or the password, or the security questions...

Soooo, I made this. 

Today is a big day in the lives of school aged children.  Picture Day.  At our house, it’s been on the calendar since the first day of school, and we have spent at least 5 car rides discussing the outfit, the hair, the wake up time, curling iron vs. flat iron, matte vs. gloss, and several other very important details.  

I think this is probably a pretty universal thing.  I remember the stress and anxiety of picture day well.  If you’re a tweenage girl who has a history of being incredibly un-photogenic*, there’s a lot riding on that 10 seconds in front of the camera.  That’s your student ID, your yearbook photo, your sheet of wallets to pass out to friends...And the camera guy does not give a rip if your photo is worthy of catapulting you into a lifetime of popularity, or relegating you to the lonely cafeteria table next to the garbage cans.  (Probably because the camera guy sees how adorable every single one of those kids is, and knows that their school photo is not their ticket to greater social standing.  But he is not a middle school aged girl who knows in her heart that she is on the cusp of becoming the next Molly Ringwald if ONLY her school photo could capture the essence of who she really is.)

*I’m strangely unphotogenic, not my gorgeous daughter who has had a camera in her face since the moment of her birth.   In fact that whole paragraph was total projection.  She wants to be Meghan Trainor.  She doesn’t even know who Molly Ringwald is.  Anyway…

Back to my original point.  Picture Day = big deal.  Now add that for my two little Catholic School sweeties, Picture Day is one of the only days during the entire school year when they can choose to wear whatever they want* to school.  

“Whatever they want” is not actually whatever they want.  There was an edict about proper “free dress” attire that came home earlier this week - no jeans, no tank tops, no athletic wear, no short skirts, no rips or tears...you get the idea.  But the point is, this is their one chance to use fashion to express exactly who they really are inside.  Underneath all the chinos, polo shirts, and plaid skorts are short humans with hopes and dreams that can only be expressed through jewel toned skinny pants and ironic t-shirts.  It’s like that Eminem song -  YOU ONLY GET ONE SHOT to let your classmates who have known you since pre-k see the real you.  True, it’s the same you they see every weekend and all summer long.  But this is a Wednesday.  In September!  Don’t blow it.

The net result of all this buildup is as follows:

1. After much panic yesterday I drove to Gordman’s at 8 p.m. and bought everyone a new outfit.  
2. Sweet Pea woke up almost 2 hours before we needed to go and began a grooming ritual worthy of a Kardashian.  She even let me help with hair, which I am rarely allowed to do.  When she was done she looked stunning.  And also 17.  Well, what the 17 year olds would look like if they didn’t all look 25.
3. I’m having chest pains.  
4. Sweet William on the other hand refused to get out of bed until the last possible second.  He took a shower, but didn’t even get his hair wet.  He was happy to wear the new shirt I bought him last night, but told me at length about the injustice of the “walk and talk” recess they would be forced to endure this morning so that they didn’t get dirty. His parting words, “Mom, wouldn’t this picture be better if I looked like I was actually having fun?  And when I have fun I usually get dirty, so….?”

   

Happy Picture Day.

~Clover

For 18 months I’ve been walking through what is easily the biggest shitstorm of my entire life, but outside of my inner circle, I haven’t talked about it much.  Lots of reasons there.  Some healthy, some probably not.  But the end result is the same.  It’s not common knowledge.  And that’s fine.  I don’t need it to be be broadcast.  But you know, it gets weird sometimes.  We’ve been separated for a year now, but people still ask me all the time how he’s doing, where he is, etc. etc.  So you end up telling people that you’re getting divorced while you’re doing things like attending back to school night or standing in line at the grocery store, which has caused at least a dozen people to burst into tears.  And then I feel personally responsible for making them feel better, which generally makes me burst into tears, and ugh.  

So yesterday I got an email from the mediator saying that the judge has signed the papers and I am officially divorced.  Mixed emotions about that for sure.  It just happened that I was having lunch with two girlfriends who have been absolute rocks for me though all of this when the email came through.  How serendipitous is that?  I am grateful for sure.  It was a momentary punch in the gut to see those words, but it didn’t take me very long to realize that it’s Ok.  I’m Ok.  I’m better than Ok, actually.  I really like my life.  And I am so proud of myself for how i have moved through this.  My kids are happy.  Our home is peaceful and secure.  I’m financially stable.  We have a lot of joy in our lives that we were intentional about creating.  I can see very clearly that my life has infinite possibilities.  So even though I’m sure I’ll always be sad about my marriage ending, it’s not my life ending.  

So I posted to Facebook saying as much.  I tried really hard to just let it be a fact.  No commentary.  No big emotional vomit.  Just, “the end of a chapter, the beginning of a new chapter.”  It was absolutely exhausting thinking about walking through another year, or month, or minute of pretending.  So I quit pretending.  I was kind of hoping that no one would comment.  What has happened instead has been incredibly humbling and overwhelming.  So many people have said kind and encouraging things.  I have a good tribe.  My life has so much joy in it.  

There were a lot of people who commented and liked the post who will remain friends with both my ex and I.  I wouldn’t want it any other way.  We are amicable.  I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to choose sides.  And I hope that the people who assign themselves more to his camp than mine understand that wishing either of us well in our journey toward healing and rebuilding isn’t disloyal.  In fact, it’s probably the most loyal thing you could do.  Our separation was sudden, and unexpected.  We’ve both been sad and angry at times.  But even so, it hasn’t been an ugly divorce. There hasn’t been a lot of blame assigned.  We worked hard at that. We both deserve to be whole and happy.  I hope there’s not anyone out there who feels otherwise.  I suppose time will tell.

~Clover

In two days I have to take a court ordered parenting class that will be the final step in my divorce.  All the papers are filed, and signed.  My understanding is that once the Judge sees that the class is complete she waves her magic wand, and *poof* my 17.75 year marriage to the man who I thought was my everything is dissolved.  

So.  Yeah.  

I’m in a pretty good place with this actually.  As good a place as anyone could be I think.  I’m downright happy with my life.  There’s a lot of beauty here, and in many ways I can tell that I am happier than I have been for a long time.  It’s really strange how those little realizations sneak up on you when you never thought of your marriage as an unhappy one.  Maybe I wasn’t unhappy, but I can see now against this new backdrop of happiness many times when I was lonely, or resentful, or just trying to hold things together when in hindsight they were very gradually falling apart.  

I can see that now.  It still takes my breath away though.  The way when it finally unravelled just how quickly my life as I knew it came apart.  I don’t want my ex-husband back.  I really don’t.  As painful as that admission sometimes is.  I don’t love him anymore.  

I don’t love him anymore. Wow. Don’t I? No, I don’t. I will always love who he was.  What we were.  Everything that we could have been.  But no, there is nothing like love between us anymore.  I’m working daily on showing mercy and kindness toward him, but even though we have been so intentional about remaining amicable for our kids, we’ve thrown too much salt on the ground for love to grow.  

Wow.  That’s sad.  I’m wrecking my makeup right now, and I know for certain that it’s not about him.  It’s that pesky mourning of the life we had planned.  The life I thought I was so carefully building for us and my children.  The part of this that I will never understand is how we walked away from that before we really even tried to salvage it.  It’s easy to say that maybe it was more important to me than it was to him, but I’m not sure that was true.  I just don’t get it, and I probably never will.  I guess part of my journey is to come to peace with that.  

Anyway...kind of melancholy.  But I suppose it would be strange if I wasn’t feeling that way.  

I'm overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for having a life that once included a marriage so beautiful that it’s really hard to say goodbye to.   

Staying strong.

~Clover

I did this really crazy thing.  I put a hole in my face.  On purpose.  I think that this is my midlife crisis.  Maybe stranger, but definitely cheaper than a convertible,

I have wanted to pierce my nose since I was about 14 years old, but someone or some situation was always telling me no, it's not a good idea.

Nobody tells me that anymore.

It makes me feel kind of edgy and sexy.  And holyshit, if there is ANYTHING in this whole wide world that a newly divorced 42 year old woman needs to feel, it's edgy and sexy.

Flying my flag...
~Clover