as we walk in the woods of winter

At some point on our slow weekends there's a good chance you'll find Sam and I walking in the woods adjacent to our backyard. We're really lucky to have a mini-greenbelt behind us, protected by local environmental laws.

Here's a look at some of my favorite sights along our trail.

Nandina berries give such a bright splash of red

against their dark green leaves.

Some people cut it down. A nuisance plant that sprouts up

everywhere. But I love to see it growing in my backyard.

A grand, old oak.

A dry creek bed common in our area. The limestone bedrock immediately beneath the soil means very little rainwater soaks into the ground. I'm determined, one of these rainy days, to put on a raincoat and umbrella and see this gully gushing with rain.

An abandoned deer blind.

My guess is they they saw more of the bottom of their beer bottles than deer sightings.

But that's really the point of hunting trips, isn't it?

Pretty sure their flavor of choice was Miller High Life.

Red tipped pencil cactus.

Look but don't touch.

Pencil cactus close up.

An old lantern of sorts.

Who put that there, we always wonder?

The beer drinkers deer hunters?

Behind it we've seen evidence of what might have been a house or cabin.

Chile pequin (puh-keen) all exposed and nekkid of it's leaves.

Sam's dad used to fill a small jar with chile pequins and vinegar to make a hot sauce.

Something like this.

Bluebonnet seedlings.

They won't present their deep blue and white splendor until March or April.

Once in a very blue moon they give us a red bonnet.

I'm not sure what this is. It grows in widespread clusters and looks like

a native baby's breath, only more golden in color. I love the texture this time of year.

Like a carpet of soft and inviting tumble weed.

A few prickly pear cactus bulbs left for the picking.

And eventually, the drinking.

Tall live oak trees circled by a coven of cedar trees. I'm not sure why they grow this way. Sam says it's because the birds sit in the tree and their, uh, droppings leave seeds behind. I prefer to think they are seeking shelter from the storm.

My own personal grapevine courrier.

What might he be saying to himself, do you think?:

(A) What's she taking a picture of now?

(B) She wonders why she can't lose any weight?

(C) Look at this crazy bitch.

All three?

girlz 'n da house

Or out of, as the case may be.

Going away for the weekend with da girlz. Girlfriends, that is. Much needed play vacay.

No kids.

No husbands.

Just lots of fun and giggles and big Hill Country sky.

There will be alfresco dining,

minus the male servant, unfortunately. But who needs that noise when we'll be under the Texan sun, 80 degrees and a cool breeze.

There will be hot salsa made fresh in my kitchen this morning,

complete with roasted jalapeno peppers and an overdose of cilantro.

And of course, the crowning touch, my infamous, fresh-squeezed, prickly-pear-tini's. Otherwise known as an intervention.

Ah yes. There will be a variety of interventions.

Have an excellent weekend, ya'll!

now hurry up and relax

Today is National Relaxation Day.

My favorite way to relax on a hot August day is to be fully submerged in a spring fed river, feet floating in front of me, collecting smooth, flat, round river stones with which to balance tiny rock pyramids while drinking snorkely-slinky.* It sounds easy, but after a few snorkely-slinkies? Perilous.

Reader, how do you like to relax?

*The drinking alcohol part is optional. Unless it's a typical day at home when a spring fed river is not readily available, in which case, the drinking alcohol is mandatory.

*Oh, but wait. You're probably following the (*) to find out what a snorkely-slinky is. It's my personal favorite mixed cocktail of Svedka, club soda and cranberry. Or better, when I'm uber organized, prickly pear juice, in which case, I should be calling it, snorkely-prickly.

it's about that time again

The summer is off to a running start between a busier than usual work schedule and kids with busier than usual comings and goings. No time to catch my breath much less catch up on all of the blogs I've been sorely neglecting. I expect more downtime in July but I'm not making any promises.

So far we've had afternoons of swimming at West Enfield, Deep Eddy (below) and Barton Springs Pools. Swimming is not an option, but a necessity, in these June "we've already hit 100 degrees" temps.

The oldest pool in Texas, Deep Eddy Pool is located close to downtown. Like Barton Springs and Enfield Pools, Deep Eddy is spring fed, making for an ultra-refreshing dip. It's also a great place to people watch and catch the latest trends in men's fashionable summertime headwear:

This weekend? We're beating the heat with our annual girls-plus-kids weekend trip for the second best kind of poolside relaxing, here.

And this year I'll be packing the prickly. Normally reserved for martyr syndrome intervention, I'm feeling the need for a little self-administered liquid therrapy.

Find out how you, too, can beat the heat with a pink prickly pear margarita, here.

I will add a major, energy saving modification. The pears can be frozen in the freezer, taken out the morning of your therrapy appointment, placed in a plastic container and left to thaw in your fridge. Retrieve a few hours later to find the dark purple juice oozing from the pears, ready to be strained and poured into the drink of your desire. Much easier.

the martyr syndrome: an intervention

I have sorely strayed from one of my blog objectives: to share some of my accumulated wisdom in the area of all things psychological. The holiday weekend has given me fresh motivation and inspiration.

The Martyr Syndrome

Defining Characteristics: Insisting on having one's own way in the completion of a task; which is the hardest, tedious, most time consuming and potentially back breaking way of doing said task; and despite the urging of the majority of adults present to make it easy on oneself; and despite assurances that it will "taste just fine: or "work just as well" (maybe even better) done the easier, faster, way.

Upon insisting on having done it the hard way, The Martyr becomes overly fatiqued and "stressed out," to the point of intolerable crankiness, or poutiness, or both, in repeating cycles; which, in turn, inevitably elicits feelings of alienation and emotional deprivation; and the overall belief that one is not appreciated in the slightest, and therefore not loved, despite (indeed, in spite of) the sacrifices one has made. Heavy sighs and comments such as "But I only wanted to make everyone happy!" may be heard during this latter phase of the disorder. Tears may be present.

Preparation of the annual Thanksgiving Feast is a common precipitating event. The making of turkey gravy is a particularly ripe activity for the presentation of The Martyr Syndrome but there are an infinite number of domestic scenerios that work equally well in sparking the onset of the disorder.

Unfortunately, there is very little that can be done to thwart the perpetual enactor of the syndrome. If a Martyr is in your midst, do not, therefore, direct your efforts toward trying to dissuade, shame, or engage in "I told you so's", particularly if you are in the throes of the decades long sufferer. It will be to no avail and could escalate The Martyr into further decompensation.

Recommended Treatment: There is, however, one full proof method that those exposed to The Martyr Syndrome can employ. I call it the "Dayglo Slushie Surprise."

1. Present the kids and The Martyr with a "Dayglo Pink Slushie" made in the blender. Inform recipients that you thought this would be "a fun surprise" and perhaps "the start of a holiday tradition."

2. Hold back a generous portion of the slushie.

3. Enact slight of hand.

4. Add heavy handed jiggerfulls of tequila and triple sec to the blender. At this stage, you should begin to feel the Prodromal Effects, Stage I of relief. i.e., Help IS on the way.

5. Pour covertly enhanced (prickly pear margaritas) DayGlo Slushie Surprises into two glasses: one for yourself and one for your co-conspirator, if you are fortunate enough to have one on hand.

Lime wedge and salt rim optional. Although, experts suggest these are better left off entirely lest The Martyr be tipped off to their significance and a second, more vicious round of the disorder ensues.

6. Give a knowing wink when handing the co-conspirator his Slushie "Surprise."

7. Toast to the happiness and wellbeing of all present. Give the co-conspirator a second knowing wink.

Feel Prodromal Phase, Stage II of the impending relief.

8. Slurp. Swallow. Allow the icy cold elixir to move to the back of throat, roll slowly down the esophagus, make contact with the tummy, and then ... ahhhh ... feel the merciful FULL RELIEF phase of treatment, that luxurious warmth from the inside out. The feeling that whispers, "bring.it.on."

9. Agree wholeheartedly when kids and The Martyr tell you how yummy these slushies are and what a good idea it was and how they "hope we do this every year."

10. Repeat steps #4 through #8, as often as needed.

prickly pear picking, part II

Cognitive Daily summarized research indicating that alliteration enhances memory. So "she sells sea shells by the sea shore" is easier to recall, than, say, e.e. cummings, "it is at moments after i have dreamed" or Emily Dickenson's "A narrow fellow in the grass."

With that in mind, I am hoping my readers haven't forgotten my post way back when on plans to pick prickly pears.

Pick them I did on the trail above. And two days later, no, two weeks later, I was still picking. Prickles. From my fingers. (You knew this was coming). And my hand. Especially that soft, fleshy area at the base of my thumb. And other parts of my anatomy I'd rather not put out there in the public domain. Those little bastards were turning up everywhere. So I will begin in order of necessity.

My list for post prickly pear picking:

1. a good pair of tweezers
2. a pair of high magnification reading glasses for seeing and grabbing those little skin sticking suckers.

I was given advice to wear thick gloves. I did, my first trip. Bad idea. My suggestion - make it your goal to have no hand-to-pear contact. Gloves or no.

Here's my experience tested prickly pear picking supply list:

1. a pair of metal tongs

2. a bucket

3. a metal or otherwise hard, flat cutting surface (I used a cookie sheet)

4. a knife to cut the pear open lengthwise

5. a thin edged spoon to scoop out the seeds and fleshy pulp

6. a strainer of some kind

7. teenager with a strong back and a penchant for mashing

I used a colander for jelly straining. Or, well, my able bodied teenage assistant did.

I also used a simple metal strainer, squooshing the seeds and pulp with a spoon.

Wooden cutting boards? Another bad idea. They capture and spread the prickles around. Unless you are cultivating a passive-aggressive plan to get even with your spouse or harbor a masochistic desire to hear him grouse about stickers in his hands for weeks afterward, do not lay your prickly pears on a wooden surface, like so:

That's a picture of my kitchen island. It has a cutting board top. Kitchen-central at our house, we wheel it around and use it for everything: food prep, dinner plate set up, homework checking. Burrowed down in the wood, those little prickly suckers enjoy an effective half-life of for-focking-ever. Take my word for it.

.

.

I did follow Rachel's advice on freezing the pods. I now have a dedicated bucket in my freezer. Can take out two or three at a time as (my blood alcohol level wanes) needed.

Burning the prickles off before handling works well, too. I heard of this method from two sources. The first was a friend who, years ago, was in the Peace Corps in Senegal. She recalled native children bringing her cactus bulb prepared this way. The second source was my mother-in-law who grew up in the Texas Hill Country. During drought conditions, she and her siblings (all nine of them) used to burn the prickles off the cactus in small bonfires and feed them to their livestock.

So I tried the burning method. With my tongs, I held a pear above my gas burner flame. Spore by spore they lit up in teeny little sparkles and burnt away. Worked great. A bit time consuming but made for easier handling later. Which, a few margaritas into the project, was appreciated.

So back to the fruit I picked. Or, the fruit of my efforts: a deliciously dark fuscia pink margarita, which, prickles not withstanding, was damned worth it!

And not a bad way to toast our new President-elect!

Cheers!

How will you all be celebrating this wonderful weekend in November?

pick a peck of prickly pear

A few months ago I experienced my first prickly pear margarita in San Antonio with a friend who was visiting from Ohio. As we sat on the riverwalk, we both savored the flavor of the best margarita this side of the Mexico border.

Afterwards, she sent me a surprise - a bottle of prickly pear syrup bought on the internets. So I've been able to enjoy, and share these marvelous margaritas with friends.

Yesterday, as on many afternoons, SAM and I went for a walk along the wooded trails behind our property. There are fields and fields of prickly pear cactus. Their fruit are turning purple. I've been hatching the idea to pick a few and take a stab at making my own prickly pear syrup.


But how? I've never even held one of those purple pods in my hand. When to pick? When is the peak ripeness of a purple prickly pear pod? How to get the pulp out without ending up with prickly fingers? How many pods do I need to make one margarita? How many pears does Peter Piper need to pick?


I don't know the answers to any of these questions. But I'm making it my (procrastination task of the day) quest. Insurance claims and therapy paychecks be damned!

At this stage I've learned that the pulp of the prickly pear is nutritious, containing lots of Vitamin C.

And that it can be used as a laxative and as a first aid salve, similar to aloe vera. But I haven't learned how to make the syrup.

Wikihow says to make a prickly pear margarita using cactus "infused" tequila. That's no help.

If you, dear reader, are a prickly pear expert who happened upon my blog, I'd be eternally grateful for any and all suggestions.

Now to remember to take my camera along on my next walk and share the view.

Update: Rachel from RachelsTinyFarm gives instruction on freezing the pear pods as a means of extracting the juice finger prick free.

rita's calling

Just so you know, I will be gone for the next few days. Impromptu vacay. Picture me kicked back at a place like this:

In the company of girlfriends who look sorta like this:

Doing things like this:And this:
And even more of this:


I do not know who the above ladies are,
but they sure have the proper technique down, don't you think?


Picture me enjoying beverages like these:

And these:

And most especially, these:

Minus the glass. We rowdy girlfriends cannot be trusted with glass poolside.

We will, instead, have plastic tumblers that look like this:

Or maybe even like this:

But they absolutely will NOT look like this:

And finally, the weekend will most certainly tolerate none of these:

As the weekend wears on, this last point might be negotiable.