Mark’s Kahlua

By Peggy | December 18, 2011 |

Just about every year this time of year we’d have to hightail it outside and stay gone for a while because Mark would be making kahlua for his friends and music colleagues. The only thing that stinks up the house more than making kahlua is making mustard. Caramelizing onions isn’t even on the same scale of stink, I’m telling you.

Ok, guys. Here’s the recipe he refined while we were living in Sacramento.

2 quarts plus one cup water
7 cups sugar
6 ounces of freeze-dried coffee
1 T. Hershey’s cocoa, optional
1 fifth of Everclear
3 T. vanilla

1. Drive to Reno to buy Everclear. (After we moved to Texas, he drove to Paradise.)
2. Boil water and add sugar. Add coffee and boil for 15 minutes. The house will be really smelly, so go outside. Add the cocoa and remove from the heat. Let cool.
3. Add Everclear and vanilla. Bottle and keep in your liquor cabinet.

Today it’s four years since he’s been gone.

I don’t like thinking that at some point in my life I will have lived more of my life without him than with him.

Posted in love, recipes

What Little Girls Are Made Of

By Peggy | December 16, 2011 |

As Paige was packing up for college last summer, we had a dilemma. She’d been borrowing my jewelry box for years because she had way more bangles and beads and baubles than I did.

I stopped wearing earrings when the kids were babies and pulled on them. My skin has autism. It doesn’t like bracelets or necklaces or rings. She felt a little guilty about taking my box, especially since that left me without anything for the few things I do have.

On her dresser was a box she’d made at art camp in elementary school. It was empty. I asked her about the ceramic piece affixed to the top. Did she remember making it?

No, she said, but she did remember what inspired her. “I had learned the atmosphere was made up of bits of sunlight, and water, and the grass around us. I wanted to make that. I wanted to make the atmosphere.”

That went right to my heart. “I’ll trade you boxes,” I said. She didn’t think it was a fair trade, but I convinced her.

My little girl comes home for the holidays tonight.

Sugar and spice.

Posted in love

Overheard in the Wolfe House #148

By Peggy | December 15, 2011 |

After Peggy plays “Sleigh Ride” on piano and Sam follows that by using the computer to play “Sleigh Ride” on the synthesizer.
Sam: I’ll bet your jealous of Sibelius.
Peggy: Why is that?
Sam: It can play Sleigh Ride a lot faster.

Posted in What Sam says

What Big Girls Are Made Of

By Peggy | December 14, 2011 |

Last weekend, my grandmother celebrated her 90th birthday. We sent her a pop-up card. My mother and dad were able to go back to Milwaukee for the fun.

My grandmother and grandfather spent a good part of their retirement crafting and selling their little creations at shows in shopping malls. I have quite a few things they made. My grandfather did a lot of small woodwork. I have a spice rack and most of the wooden toys he made, although they have seen a lot of wear and tear, especially a pull toy that Sam drug around the back patio as toddler in California until it fell apart.

A lesser toy, made of plastic, would have never withstood what Grandpa made.

This is unlike my father, who excels at creating furniture — I have seven or eight pieces that he built or rehabbed for us — he had enough of the small work crafting crowns and bridges and filling people’s teeth, I think. But I digress.

My grandmother made hundreds of counted cross-stitch pieces. I have some Christmas ornaments, and this little hanging piece that has always hung with on the key rack with the house and car keys.

“Home is where you hang your heart.”

That’s my grandmother. Only recently, did I start really looking at what else grandma hangs on the key rack besides her heart.

Dang, grandma, you’ve got a set of boxing gloves, a set of shoulder pads, and a pair of nunchucks hanging there.

No wonder you’re living so long.

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Posted in self-advocacy

Setback in Santa’s Workshop

By Peggy | December 4, 2011 |

I have a bad habit of using old appliances until they catch fire or shock me into unconsciousness.

I’ve been so determined to keep my mid-century Pfaff sewing machine going that I’ve nearly set the house on fire twice. The first time, I warned the shopkeeper that I was bringing it in for service because it had nearly caught fire and to please be careful.

When I came to pick it up, he said, “Dang, we nearly set the shop on fire.”

Today was the last straw. Tomorrow, I buy a new machine. There is too much to do for Christmas, and I can tell I’m just asking for trouble.

After all the sparks flew this time, Sam came into the office/sewing room/Santa’s workshop and said, “What’s that burning smell?”

Posted in decision-making, What Sam says