I’m a regular Mrs. Claus this Christmas and it has nothing to do with the size of my jolly old belly. I’m shopping early. It’s highly unusual, but I’m having so much fun finding gifts I know my friends and family will love. I adore shopping for other people. There’s something freeing when you’re out spending money on others.
If I go to the store to buy myself something, even if I really need it, I have the tendency to talk myself out of making the purchase. I’m an expert at shopping and not buying. FringeMan makes fun of me for it; however, I can spend money like it’s growing on the potted tree on my front porch if I know it’s for someone else. I feel none of the post traumatic broke syndrome if the purchase is for someone other than myself. I think that’s a psychological flaw, but let’s not take the time to analyze me too much. We’re friends here – you love me despite my quirks.
I even found the perfect gifts for FringeMan. I just haven’t bought it yet. He’ll be surprised though. I know it!
I’m in such a festive mood that I volunteered for the Santa sale in the elementary school. Tomorrow you’ll find me helping kids pick out the perfect plastic bracelet for their mother. It should be a hoot. And I don’t often use the word “hoot”.
I bought myself a little something though. Temptation is a terrible thing. I can resist a lot, but when a TaB cup comes calling, I buckle under the pressure and take a bite of the apple.
Check these beauties out!
I just wish I bought another pack so I could have a set of eight. Maybe on my next Wal-Mart trip.
I’m sure you’re jealous of my vintage inspired Fanta glass, but don’t blame me for tempting you if you blow the $10 on a set.
Now, since I’m in my kitchen making googly eyes at my glassware, I thought I’d share a recipe. But, it has a story with it. This summer, my husband preached at this church about an hour from our house, and the pastor of that church invited us back to his home for dinner. No one EVER does that, so we were surprised and honored, but mostly happy I didn’t have to cook. This super-sweet woman made chicken, potatoes, and all kinds of yummy comfort foods, but the star of the meal was a crock of black-eyed peas. I never had them before and I only took some to be polite. Who knew I’d love them? I went black for seconds on the little black-eyed wonders.
So I had to learn how to cook them, only I can’t cook them Southern style, because I’m a darn Yankee. It’s true. Blame my mother.
FringeMan says that I’ve taken a country food and made it taste Mediterranean. I’m not sure about that, but it’s got a certain overseas flare. I guess.
Here’s the recipe. Try them and decide for yourself.
Almost Mediterranean Black-Eyed Peas:
1 bag dried black-eyed peas
1 large can chicken broth
1 onion, chopped
5 (or s0) minced cloves of garlic
salt and pepper to taste
a healthy sprinkling of parsley
1/2 stick butter (Because butter makes everything better. Don’t tell your cardiologist I said that.)
ham (leftover from a roast or a ham steak ) chunked
Soak the beans overnight, drain, and take out all the bad ones. Throw everything into the crock-pot and cook for 8-10 hours on low.
It’s easy and even my son likes it. You remember Mikey?
Did you ever cook black-eyed peas?
Do you love my glasses more than that chocolate brownie you snuck last night? Oh, wait. That was me with brownie. Never mind!