I used to dress up every year for Halloween. I've been a gypsy and a mummy, a French maid and a Greek goddess, Betty Crocker and a witch. I haven't gotten into it in recent years mainly because by the time Halloween rolls around I haven't had time to pull together a decent costume, and on the day itself my time is spent getting the kids all made up and frosting cookies and driving from trick-or-treating to party to home and back. Hardly a good excuse. There's something rather exciting about dressing up, and a person really ought to take advantage of the holiday to explore his or her alter ego, dark side, or plain old curiosity. I've always wanted to dress as Cleopatra or Scarlett O'Hara; I've yet to answer the door as Wonder Woman.

Frankly, I don't dress up much in general. I prefer jeans and black boots with a heel and a nice pullover V-neck to a dress any day. I go for earth tones — grays, browns, burgundy — with a bit of white here and there. More for practical reasons than any. When you have children, anything to speed up the routine is helpful. The thought of silk or sequins is appealing, but it gives me a bit of stress. There's the issue of wrinkles, and can it go into the washing machine? Of course, I don't like the thought of being boring, and that's where underwear comes in. But that's a whole other story.

I think, perhaps, next year I will plan ahead. Maybe I'll seek out and find that Wonder Woman costume. Or I'll wear a gown of brocade, be Marie Antoinette, and serve cake at the door. Or I'll really go for it and buy myself a silver sequined dress, silver heels, and fashion a hat of tinsel and glitter and go as a Sparkle. A Glimmer. A Glisten. Something mysterious and unusual on a day made for just that.

Sugared French Toast
This recipe goes way back to my childhood when my mother served up platters of sugary French toast and bacon on cold autumn mornings.

1 loaf buttermilk or thick white sliced bread
8-10 eggs
Milk or buttermilk
Cinnamon
Sugar
Oil

Crack 8-10 eggs into a large bowl, depending on how many people are eating. (I figure 2 eggs per person.)

Add 1 dollop (about 1/8 cup) milk or buttermilk per egg.

Whisk until blended.

Pour 2-4 T oil in a nonstick skillet or frying pan. Heat on medium heat.

Dip bread into egg/milk mixture, both sides. Place on pan and fry on both sides until crispy and center appears cooked. Place on plate covered with a mixture of 1 cup sugar and 1-2 T cinnamon. Coat both sides of toast with cinnamon sugar.

Serve with or without butter and syrup.

Enjoy!

Besides. I'm not really good at being scared. The scariest things to me aren't monsters or people with fangs jumping out at me. The really scary things are more ordinary. Like if a man were just standing there, in the yard, looking at the house. That would be scary. Or if I were home alone and went to take a shower and came back and all of my underwear was gone. Just like that. I'd be rather shaken up and tempted to make a call. Or if a voice, say God, for instance, just called my name out of the blue: "MRS. SUNDBERG." That would pretty much do me in. Of course, had I gone with Mr. Sundberg and the kids, I would have given a courtesy holler or two for good measure, in the spirit of the season and all, and I imagine it would have been a fun time. And it was.

I know people who are dying slow deaths from guilt, and others who are seemingly being kept alive by it. For a lot of my life, I let guilt dictate how I spent a good deal of my time. Until, worn down by it all, it dawned on me that — though in some instances guilt has its place — most of the time guilt is a waste of energy. One of my favorite thinkers, Jean-Paul Sartre, said that guilt is an anguish which accompanies the recognition of our total freedom. Now, that makes a lot of sense. And there certainly is some freedom in spending a Saturday evening alone in the kitchen. What to bake first? And all that frosting, and those unopened bags of Halloween candy... Why bring anguish into the picture? The kids are having a great time, the house smells like cinnamon and fresh bread, and all's right with the world.

This recipe was originally made with ground venison, which makes a perfect substitute for the beef, though you may wish to add a bit of beef for the fat, if you know what I mean. Serve this up with saltines or oyster crackers, and some shredded Colby or cheddar. Keep a bottle of Tabasco sauce handy for those who like a bit of zing.

Big Beef Chili

1 1/4 lb ground beef
Brown beef with 1-2 T chopped onion. Drain excess fat, if any. Return meat and onion to pot.

Add the following:

1 can dark red kidney beans, drained
1 can chili beans, not drained
1 can (46 oz.) tomato juice
1/4 tsp. cracked or ground black pepper. Salt to taste.
2/3 – 1 T chili powder
1/4 tsp. cumin
1-2 dashes Tabasco sauce

Good options: Add 1 can diced tomatoes along with tomato juice.
And/or 1-2 stalks of celery, diced, at end of browning meat.
And/or 2-4 oz. sliced mushrooms, or 1 small can of mushrooms, drained,just before adding beans.

Simmer a while and serve with homemade cornbread.

Enjoy!

It's something I don't talk about much, my love for butter. It's one of those things I'm a bit embarrassed about. Not sure why, really. Perhaps because it brings out the glutton in me. Other things do that, too, but like I said, I do know about restraint and it has gotten to the point where I simply don't eat potato chips. I love the things, and if I eat even one, the whole bag is a goner, so I just don't. Same with French fries. Love 'em, but don't eat 'em. Except on special occasions. Now, butter is different because it's like oxygen. You just can't eat pancakes without butter. That wouldn't be right. And baked potatoes wouldn't be the same without butter. Neither would some frostings or toast or homemade cookies. I don't eat it plain, mind you, like that woman on TV, but I do tend to use it frequently and in generous amounts.

So you can imagine my pure delight when Mr. Keillor told how there was deep fried butter served up at a wedding in Lake Wobegon last week. My gosh, I just about tipped. Butter frozen into little balls, dipped in batter and deep fried? Sounds like one step short of Paradise to me. So I dug out all my cookbooks and turned to the "batter" section of each and found a recipe for a batter of reasonable consistency. I dug out a pound of butter from the fridge and, with a melon baller, made as many little balls as I could and threw them into the freezer. It wasn't long after the show was over that Mr. Sundberg and the kids were feasting on wonderfully crunchy golden nuggets sprinkled with powdered sugar. And, fifteen minutes later, Mr. Sundberg was sound asleep in the recliner, and all three kids were dozing off on the couch.

I still have a bit of work to do to perfect the butter balls, but let me tell you, they taste pretty darn good. Restraint may have its place, but so does reward and you ought to take time now and then to indulge yourself. Just for a moment.

Fabulous French Silk Pie
If you're looking for something simple yet decadent, chocolately but not overly rich, here you go. This one will leave quite an impression, I promise.

1 cup butter
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 tsp. vanilla
2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
6 large eggs
1 10-inch baked pie crust (graham will work, too, but flour/butter is best)

Melt chips in double-boiler or microwave. Cream together butter, sugar and vanilla. Add slightly cooled chocolate. Add eggs, two at a time, beating at least three minutes after adding each pair. Pour into pie shell. Filling will be soft and piled high, but will set up in three or four hours in refrigerator.

For an 8 or 9-inch pie crust, you may cut filling recipe in half. Pie will not be as amazing to look at, but half the recipe will fill a smaller pie crust. Serve with whipped cream and chocolate shavings or sprinkles if desired.

Enjoy!

But you think about it, and the answer to what makes a person happy is as colorful and storied as the number of people on the planet. Some people don't care much for work, and others are content in the moment and there are people with terminal illnesses who know more about happiness than most, I imagine. And I suppose there are people who don't think much about love, can take it or leave it like the cucumber water at the hair salon. Might be nice, but you won't die without it.

Not my friend Angela. She's not desperate by any means, but she's looking for love with gentle yet unwavering determination. She believes, in the marrow of her bones, that life — her life in particular — was not meant to be lived alone. So, after months of not really meeting anyone just doing the things she likes to do (my suggestion), she joined an online dating service. Thing is, Angela also believes her life was not meant to be spent with someone with whom she is the least bit uncomfortable, someone with whom she feels she must pretend to have qualities she doesn't have, or someone whose desire for her is disproportionate to her desire for that person. And vice versa.

Long story short, Angela has been on three dates in the last two weeks, and she has another planned for this coming Saturday. Her one observation I find it rather interesting: in the photos posted along with their profiles, the majority of men are posing and smiling and holding a fish. Whatever floats your boat, I say. Happiness is elusive. When you find it, grab on to it, and smile.


Hearty Beef Stew
It's cold out there, and time for something to keep you warm all day. Serve this up in a stew bowl with fresh dinner rolls or a good, dense bread. Because stew is an art form, no two batches should turn out exactly alike.

Ingredients:

• 1-1 1/2 lbs. lean beef (or venison) cut into 3/4-1" cubes
• 2 T flour
• Salt and pepper
• 2 T cooking oil
• 1 8 oz. can tomato sauce
• 2 beef bouillon cubes
• 1/4 tsp. garlic powder
• 2 T minced onion
• 1 bay leaf
• 1/2 tsp. dried basil
• 1/2 tsp. dried thyme leaves
• 1-2 small shots of Tabasco or 1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper (if desired)
• About 3 cups peeled potatoes, cut into cubes (If reds, you don't have to peel 'em)
• 3-4 med. carrots, peeled and chunked
• 3 large stalks of celery, chopped into small chunks

Shake meat in paper bag with flour and a little salt and pepper. Brown in oil over high heat, stirring frequently. Add onion near end of browning. Turn heat down to low, just barely cover meat with water, and add bouillon, garlic powder, thyme, basil, and bay leaf. Simmer in covered pot 1/2 hour or so (more if meat is tough). Add tomato sauce. Stir occasionally. When meat is just about tender enough, add carrots, celery, and potatoes, in that order, at about 1–2 minute intervals. Simmer further until vegetables are tender, adding more water, if needed, just to keep covered. Stir occasionally, checking for doneness of vegetables. Add Tabasco or cayenne, and more salt and pepper to taste, if needed.

It's not that I'm not getting enough sleep, though I probably could stand a bit more. It's not my age or my diet or a head cold. It's simply that the year has turned a corner and the days are darker now. The sun sets earlier and rises a while later, and shadows fall long and slender on the walks and driveways about town. Leaves are falling, too, and things are turning brown and gray, and I'm craving foods like stew and dumplings and potpie and hash.

The fact that it's rained for six days in a row now hasn't helped much, either. Something about gray-shaded skies and a steady rain and the way the drops hit the puddles makes a person's eyelids heavy. It's cool outside, and damp, and the heat is on for a while in the evening, and I've been baking banana bread and cinnamon coffee cake and apple muffins and a pie here and there. You throw all of that together with an early sunset and a soft-lit lamp and you're bound to doze off on the couch well before bedtime, feet up on the ottoman, afghan draped over your legs, head tilted back and slightly to the side, mouth open a bit — enough that the kids notice and giggle and poke their fingers in it and wake you up and then do for you an imitation of you sleeping with your mouth open so you know what you look like when you're asleep. Something you've always wondered, and now you know. Another mystery of the universe solved on a rainy evening in October.

German Hotdish
When you come from one place and live in a town where everyone else comes from another place, you feel a bit compelled now and then to give a little shout for the homeland.

3 lb sauerkraut, drained
12 oz egg noodles, cooked and drained
1-2 lb pork sausage, cooked and drained

Mix above ingredients. Pour into a 9 x 13 cake pan or large casserole. You might want to throw some cheese on top if you have a hankering. Heat thoroughly and serve with rye bread and a mug of beer.

Enjoy!

No, the all-out cry came Friday afternoon. I suppose you could chalk it up to the weather, which was somewhere between drizzle and rain. No thunder and lightning, no drama — just a steady steamy stream of water pouring on down. The windows in my van kept fogging up in the midst of my errands, people were generally quiet and without a smile, and I felt somewhat lacking in something. Courage, maybe. Or strength. Or motivation. Or whatever it is that sustains those always-happy people. Not that I aspire to constant joy, but there are days when I feel its absence like we all do, and Friday was one of 'em. Of course, it could have been a hormonal thing, or the pizza with extra cheese I'd eaten the night before, or the fact that the kids have been a bit more needy than usual with the start of school and puberty and all. Or maybe I was just having a really crappy day. I'd lost my umbrella, and my hair was out of control, and I couldn't seem to catch up with myself.

I was fine as I visited the bank, the post office, the gas station, and the movie store. I even hummed a little bit as I wandered through Target picking up a few things we'd run out of. I suppose I didn't need the three large bags of M&Ms, nor did I have to buy a box of Little Debbie Nutty Bars or seven boxes of Kleenex. Nope. But I did. And I bought a notebook too, just to have. I took it all out to the car and loaded it up and that's when I came undone. The tears started, and they weren't stopping. I drove to the back of the lot by some trees near a pond and parked the car. I locked the doors, left the music on, took off my shoes, and climbed to the way back seat of the van where I wrapped myself tight in the plaid wool stadium blanket I keep just in case, and I cried. For a good hour, I lay there with the windows all steamed up and cried about nothing in particular and everything at once.

They say that crying releases protein-based hormones and painkillers and toxins that build up in your body. It cleans you out. It's like a built-in rinse cycle, and women cry 64 times a year and men, 17, for a reason. It's healthy. And it feels good. Felt good to me, anyway, all curled up in my van with the rain beating on the roof on a Friday afternoon somewhere between summer's end and the first leaves of autumn.

Sumac Tea
For company or comfort, hot or cold, this homebrewed tea will hit the spot.

The staghorn sumac is turning red, a darker red than the maple, and its red, fuzzy cluster of berries can be used to make tea once used for refreshment by Indians and pioneers. In a big pot, cover a quart of seed heads with a gallon of water and bring to a boil. Simmer for 15 minutes or so, then set aside for an hour. Drain off the tea using cheesecloth or a coffee filter. The tea will be pink and sour and tastes something like lemonade. You can sweeten it with honey or sugar and serve it hot or cold.

Enjoy!

Now, don't get all bent out of shape. It's Mr. Keillor's book, Pilgrims: A Wobegon Romance, and it's going to be released on Tuesday. My dear friend Angela, the one who told me there's a word for reading by candlelight (lucubration) works part time in a bookstore and I just happened to drop in on Friday when she was putting up a poster advertising Mr. Keillor's book and she happened to let it slip that she had a copy at home. Well, you can bet I dropped by her house that evening with a fresh peach pie and what do you know, she let me borrow the book as long as I promised to keep quiet...

Anyway. It's a lovely book. A wonderful book. I can't give it away, of course, but I can tell you I have a hard time putting it down, and when I do, I have a lot to think about until I pick it up again. There's someone in that book very much like me, and I always enjoy that. What I like so much about this book is the whole notion of what it means to be a "pilgrim," but even more the idea that if you have a dream, it can be as simple as deciding where "there" is, choosing whom you're taking with you, and going.

For the record, I'm not finished with the book yet. Not quite. I'm a journey person, myself. Destinations can wait.


Barbecued Chicken Wraps
This recipe is one of the kids' favorites, especially on an evening when everyone has somewhere to go.

1 lb boneless chicken breasts
1 18 oz bottle barbecue sauce (Sweet Baby Ray's Hickory Brown Sugar)
6-8 flour tortillas or soft pitas
8 oz shredded cheddar cheese

Trim fat from chicken. Place in skillet with 1-2 T oil. Fry on both sides until there isn't much pink to be seen. While in skillet, cut breasts in half and shred with two forks. Continue to cook over medium heat until pink is gone. Season with salt and pepper. Pour one bottle of barbecue sauce over meat. Simmer 20 minutes. Scoop onto warm pita or tortilla. Sprinkle with desired amount of shredded cheese and roll up or fold. Serve with rice, salad or chips.

Mmm! Enjoy!

So then the other day Mr. Sundberg builds a campfire so the kids could burn their old homework from last year and one of the kids fuels it with an armful or two of sticks and leaves and what seem to be weeds but is actually poison ivy. And then stands there awhile as smoke billows up out of the fire, smoke laden with whatever bears the nasty poison of that particular ivy plant, and that poison makes its way across my child's skin, over her eyelids, down her cheeks and neck and arms and legs. The next day, she's red and swollen and itching and in pain. Oozing pain. As I dab on the calamine lotion, I think about her beautiful, soft skin, and her bright blue eyes. I remember her smile and the curve of her jaw as she throws her head back in laughter, and how her curly hair bounces on her shoulder. She is trying not to cry. "When will it stop?" Going to be a while, Honey, I tell her. You did a number on yourself. But it will stop, I promise.

Now, I didn't need that whole poison ivy encounter to take place in order for me to appreciate my daughter's smile. Surely not. Perhaps what I needed, though, was that short time with her and a bottle of lotion. Longer than a pause and shorter than a while. Enough time for attention to collect its due. Enough time to notice what was missing.

Scalloped Potatoes, the Good Ol' Way
Here's one from my childhood, a real comfort food. My mother sometimes threw a layer of leftover cooked ham in the middle, and often served ham on the side.

3 T butter
2 T flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
3 cups milk
6 medium potatoes, pared and thinly sliced (about six cups)
2 T chopped onion

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 2 qt casserole. Make a basic white sauce using the butter, flour, salt, pepper & milk. Melt the butter and add the flour, salt and pepper. Add milk and stir over medium heat until thick. Set aside. Wash, peel, and thinly slice (width-wise) potatoes. Place half the potatoes in casserole. Cover with about half the onion and half the white sauce. Repeat layers. Cover and bake 60-70 minutes. Test with fork to make sure potatoes are almost tender. Uncover and bake another 30 minutes.

Feeds 4 hungry people, so you may want to double it.

Enjoy!

The kids went off to school today, and I watched them go. I waved from the front porch like I always do, and they turned and waved back and blew a kiss or two. I watched them climb on up into the big yellow bus and watched the door close tight and then they were gone. I sat awhile on the porch and felt what it feels like to be alone. That took about fifteen minutes, and then I got going on all the things I pushed to the side over the summer. I wrote some thank you notes, cleaned under the stove and refrigerator, wiped down the pantry, sorted through the books in the library (which consists of a few shelves in the living room) and put about half of 'em in a bag for the community library. I swept the sidewalk, and hosed down the trampoline just for the heck of it.

When I thought to look at the clock a few hours later it was nearly noon, and the kids would return in only three hours. Imagine that. Not even half a day had passed and I'd found myself wondering when they'd be coming home. It's like that, you know, when you love someone. They go away and you busy yourself with dusting and such, and you might even get a notion to paint the hallway or start writing that book you've envisioned yourself publishing one day. But whatever you come up with, part of you is listening for footsteps, for the rush of the door opening, for a voice calling out your name. "You'll never guess what happened today," the voice calls out. No, I won't, my Dear One, you whisper, and then you call back, Why don't you come on in here and tell me.

Garlic Bubble Bread

This recipe is easy enough for the kids to throw together while you make the main dish. Serve it with pasta, chicken, or with a big ol' salad and some cherry pie for dessert. Be prepared to hand out copies of the recipe. It's a keeper.

1 loaf frozen bread dough
2 T melted butter
1 beaten egg
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 T parsley flakes
1/4 tsp salt

Thaw and soften dough.

Blend together all other ingredients. Cut off pieces of dough the size of a walnut and dip into butter mixture. Place in a greased bread loaf pan until all dough is used. Cover and let rise until double in size.

Bake 30 minutes at 375. Brush with melted butter. Break off pieces when eating.

Enjoy!

Take a bunch of fresh asparagus. Wash the stalks and trim the cut ends. Soak in olive oil for a few minutes. (Any olive oil will do - doesn't have to be from a specific region of Italy.)

Turn gas grill on to med/high or prep charcoal grill to where coals are red hot and ready to go. (Gas grill is preferable, I must say.)

Lay asparagus stalks down on grill and salt and pepper quite liberally. Cover. Let cook five minutes or so, then roll stalks and cook another five or so. It won't take long; you'll have to keep an eye on 'em, and you'll know when they're done. (Careful - don't wander off and forget. Asparagus don't take long to vaporize.)

Remove from grill. You may wish to squeeze a bit of fresh lemon over the stalks, especially if you're serving them with fish.

Or make a lot, and serve as its own meal with some homemade Hollandaise.

Enjoy!

Time away is often not what you hope it to be, and though it wasn't as relaxing as it could have been, a stay in the north woods is inevitably soothing to the soul and you come back refreshed and feeling somehow more than you were than when you left. Which is a good thing because you've got piles of laundry waiting, and an empty fridge, and a long list of school supplies to purchase before September 8, and the kids are a bit anxious and restless and there's not much of summer left to go.

So I've been doing laundry these past few days, something I'll confess I rather enjoy. It's good work, work I do because these are the shorts my daughter wore on a hike in the woods on Saturday, and this is the shirt my son wears every other day because it has a happy face on it and it's his favorite, and these are the new purple footie pajamas I bought my daughter which she wants to wear to school and I say I don't think so, Honey, and this is Mr. Sundberg's moss-colored sweater I bought when we drove down to Redwing to get away for a day and sit in the sun and eat strawberries and drink wine from those little bottles.

I love the smell of clean clothes and how they come back to me over the days, shrinking and fading and eventually they disappear, and new ones arrive — bigger and brighter with a new clothes smell, a reminder that time is passing faster that I care to admit. I think it was Einstein who said we have time so everything doesn't happen at once. And thank the good Lord for that.

Peanut Butter Brownies

A friend made these for me when I was feeling down and, let me tell you, it wasn't long before I was feeling good again. They're tasty anytime, and enough that you can keep half the pan and give half away. Which is how it should be with a pan of something this good.

Crust

1 box (1 lb 6.5 oz) Betty Crocker® Original Supreme brownie mix
Water, vegetable oil and eggs called for on brownie mix box

Filling

1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
2 cups powdered sugar
2 teaspoons milk
Topping
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup butter

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease bottom of 13x9 pan. (For easier cutting, line pan with foil, then grease foil on bottom only of pan.)

2. In medium bowl, stir brownie mix, pouch of chocolate syrup, water, oil and eggs until well blended. Spread in pan. Bake 28 minutes or until toothpick inserted 2 inches from side of pan comes out almost clean. Cool completely.

3. In medium bowl, beat filling ingredients with electric mixer on medium speed until smooth. Spread mixture evenly over base.

4. In small microwavable bowl, microwave topping ingredients uncovered on high 30 to 60 seconds; stir until smooth. Cool 10 minutes; spread over filling. Refrigerate about 30 minutes or until set. Cut into 36 squares. Store covered in refrigerator.

Enjoy!

Though some of us are looking forward to autumn, there are still a few summer things left undone — and this week, I plan to do them. While Mr. Sundberg's away at a convention and two of the kids are with their grandparents at their cabin, I'm heading out up to the north woods to another cabin with a friend of mine and the remaining kid and a good friend of hers. The plan is to relax a bit, and that we will do, but along with relaxing, I've got seven things in mind:

• A bottle of Gewurtztraminer on the dock, afternoon into sunset.


• A nap in the hammock, two hours minimum.


• A long walk along a wooded road, with whomever, for as long as it can be.


• A swim. Naked and at night, preferably. But a swim, nonetheless. In the deep, clear lake.


• One good evening movie, everyone invited, popcorn included, in the living room. Fire, optional.


• Barbecued chicken breasts on the grill, corn on the cob, salad, and cherry pie for dessert.


• An evening campfire with singing, marshmallows, stories, loons, and the "Pine Trees" song, which goes like this: "Pine trees, pine trees, pine trees. / Pine trees, pine trees, pine trees. / Pine trees, pine trees, pine trees, pine trees, / Pine trees, pine trees, pine trees." Well, guess the melody would help a bit. But once you hear it, it'll never leave your head. Kind of like the call of the loon. Or your mother's voice. Trust me on this one.

Strawberry Sensation

Whip this one together and call up all your sisters and have 'em over next Sunday after church. If you don't have any sisters, invite someone you run into at church. And if you don't make it to church, well, you've got neighbors, don't you? Give 'em a call. It won't be long before you'll have to climb over drifts to see each other and this dessert won't taste as good.

4 cups strawberries divided in half
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1/4 cup lemon juice (approx. 1 lemon)
12 oz Cool Whip
8 Oreo cookies
1 T butter

Mash 2 cups strawberries in a large bowl. Add sweetened condensed milk and lemon juice, and blend in 2 cups (8 oz) of Cool Whip. Line a bread loaf pan with aluminum foil and pour mixture into pan. Crush Oreo cookies into fine crumbs. Pour into bowl and mix with 1 T melted butter. Pat on top of mixture in pan. Cover and freeze for 6 hours. Uncover and invert loaf pan onto a plate. Peel off foil and frost with remaining Cool Whip. Slice remaining strawberries and cover top with slices. Serves 10-12.

Enjoy!

It's not that you want mass destruction or anything, or even downed trees and power lines. A power outage would be alright, and some leaves blown around the yard would be good. It's not so much what actually happens as it is the thought of it. You hear the wind pick up and you see those purple and black clouds all swirling and everything goes green for a while and the rain comes down in torrents. There's a kind of beauty in a face lit up by lightning, and a softness in skin wet by rain, and to be so bold as to go out on the porch to meet that storm in person is pretty much irresistible.

For me, anyway. The kids think I'm nuts, but I can't help it. When that storm rolled in Saturday night, there I was, out there in the driveway like the Welcome Wagon on moving day. "Get in here, Mom," the kids hollered from the doorway. Not just yet, I told them. I'm seeing what's going on. Didn't take long for them to join me, and there we stood, wide-eyed with wonder at the first real storm of summer. The thunder clapped loud and the kids oohed and aahhed, and when the lightning show began it was time to go in.

By morning the storm was gone, and the sun came out bright and the windows were all clean. There wasn't much to pick up, and everything smelled fresh and new. That's the thing about storms. They come through all dark and flashing, and when they're gone, you see the loveliness in what's left behind.

Mrs. Sundberg's Dad's Easy Beer Batter for Fish
We've been doing some fishing lately, and have plans to do some more. This recipe comes from my father, who has used it for years. It makes the best battered halibut I've ever had, and walleye, too. Give it a go, and see what you think.

1. Pour 1/3 - 1/2 can beer in mixing bowl (don't waste it, you can add more later). A dark beer is best - like a red or a dark ale. Stir beer with whisk, and let stand.

2. Stir in 1 egg - beat with whisk or fork.

3. Add 1/3 cup flour and 1/3 cup Bisquick, 1/2 tsp. salt, some pepper, and a few shakes of paprika. Mix well. Add more beer as necessary to make a thin batter. (Some also like to add a few shakes of garlic powder to batter.)

4. Add fish, and thoroughly coat with batter, shaking off the excess. Fry in oil at 375 degrees F. Cook 'til golden brown. Fish will float when done. Consume remainder of beer with the fish, which ought to be served with fried potatoes and green beans. Best when served to good friends or family whom you love.

Enjoy!

There were seven grandchildren present, and at least five dogs, and Lord knows how many adults when someone hollered "Pontoon!" and we made the short pilgrimage to the boat clutching our drinks. Not everyone went of course. The thing only holds so many, and those who stayed behind sat around the table in the cabin playing cards and laughing loud enough that we could hear it out on the water. "Bring a jacket!" one of the mothers yelled from the cabin. "It's cold out there on the water!" So there was a rush back up the steps to get jackets and towels and someone grabbed a blanket.

Thank goodness for all that, because cold it was. We never did hit 90 degrees during the month of July, and, though we figured it was the 1st of August on Saturday and things were going to heat up, it didn't happen. The wind out on that lake was an icy wind, and the lips of the seven grandchildren were blue. To no avail. They all jumped in at the swimming hole anyway, along with the two crazy uncles, and we adults sat there wrapped in our jackets and towels and the one wool blanket and sipped our gin and tonics and beers and oohed and aahed at the insanity of the children.

And they, in their near-naked innocence, screamed and squealed and climbed the ladder again and again and leaped out into the air over the dark blue water as the clouds once again blotted out the sun. There were cannonballs and perfect dives and enough splashing to get us wet enough to spark a conversation on the purpose of the human nipple, and things kind of spiraled from there. The wind picked up and the waves grew choppy and the children were shivering from head to toe, yet they kept going, splashing and laughing and dashing into the waves.

Whatever it is we lose when we grow up, my brothers have managed to hold on to a thread. I imagine we each have that thread lying around somewhere, and it's up to us whether or not we choose to pick it up and give it a tug. Not to say I wish I would have taken that swim. Nah. But there are days when I find myself longing for the feeling you can get only on a swing set. You know the one, where you're as high as you can go and you pause for a moment on the edge of the earth, and your feet are nearly in the apple tree, and you think you might go hurtling off into the clouds. That one.

Sweet Vidalia Cheese Dip
Some recipes are so simple you think there's no way this is going to be anything, and then you pull it out of the oven, and it's gone in no time. My brother-in-law showed up with this lovely dip on Saturday, only three ingredients, and was it ever a hit.

2 cups mayonnaise
2 cups shredded parmesan cheese
2 cups shredded Sweet Vidalia onions

Mix. Pour into casserole. Bake at 350 for 45 min or until lightly browned along the edges. Serve with crackers, foccacia bread, anything that dips well.

Enjoy!

Whatever it is you long for, it sits there on the horizon, edged in silver, hovering, and as you near it you tremble, thinking, "At last, at long last," and it hardly seems real. So when I woke up Saturday with no one around, no alarm, no kids hollering for breakfast, no television blaring — only silence — I looked at the clock and saw it was 6:03 a.m. One Whole Day all my own, however I wanted to spend it. And oh, did I have plans.

Emphasis on the "did." I lay there awhile, all warm and cozy, and when I decided at last to get up, it was after 8. No big deal. I took a long, hot shower, dressed, made a few calls and mailed a few letters, and by then it was almost noon and I was hungry so I grilled a few chicken breasts and French bread and made some fancy sandwiches and ate them on the porch with a glass of wine. Good wine which I'd purchased a while back for a special day, which this was. So I had another glass, and a peanut butter truffle, which I'd bought at the fudge shop in a little town on the way back from dropping one of the kids off at camp. It was so delicious I had to have another, this one caramel, and half a glass more of wine to wash it all down. Which made me a bit drowsy, so I lay down on the couch with a magazine article about a couple who met at Woodstock and who have been together since and I somehow dozed off. I was awakened some time later by the phone ringing. It was Mr. Sundberg calling to see how things were going and I said, Fine, and he said he'd be home the next day in the late afternoon and hoped I was enjoying my day. Just after I hung up the doorbell rang. It was the UPS man with a package, and while I was talking with him, the phone rang again. It was a counselor from Horse Camp and would I give permission for ibuprofen to be administered as there was a minor incident, nothing to worry about, a bruised knee, of course they'll keep me updated.

It was mid-afternoon and there was really nothing for dinner except leftover chicken, so I shredded it and seasoned it and made a frittata with eggs and corn. I finished the laundry and watered the plants and took a walk in the woods while my dinner was baking. When I got back, it was almost time for the show, so I served up my frittata on a plate and poured another glass of wine and cranked the stereo's volume to "7" and sat myself down on the couch. I turned the phone's ringer to "Off" and let out one big long sigh as Mr. Keillor launched into song. After the show, I did up the dishes, took a long, hot bath, and watched the evening news, and an old movie on the only channel that comes in clearly. Even slept on the couch because it's so dang comfortable.

A few days have passed since my one whole day. I won't say I have regrets about how I spent it; I will say things aren't always what you expect. That silver edging sometime turns out to be aluminum foil. Thing is, I got to be alone with my thoughts awhile. And I took a nap. Both fine and rare occasions, and so I am grateful.

Homemade Macaroni and Cheese
The weather cooled off this past week and I found myself craving homemade macaroni and cheese. Here's a recipe that's fairly simple, and the result is a creamy, rich dish everyone will love.

3 T butter
1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. dry mustard
1/4 tsp. pepper
2 ½ cups milk
2 c. Cheddar cheese, grated
1/2 lb. Velveeta cheese
1 cup Mozzarella cheese
1 (16 oz.) box elbow macaroni

In large saucepan, melt butter. Stir in flour, salt, mustard and pepper until smooth; remove from heat. Stir in milk until smooth and continue for 10 minutes until thick; remove from heat. Add 1 1/2 cups Cheddar cheese, Velveeta cheese and Mozzarella cheese until melted. Place cooked macaroni in a greased casserole dish, pour cheese mixture over and mix well. Sprinkle paprika and leftover Cheddar on top. Bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes.

Recipe can be halved if you'd rather go that route.

Enjoy!