some favorite pix

I'm digging through files trying to delete (why is it just as hard to delete endless jpg and bmp files as it ever was to sort through and purge 100 photos?) and came across some I hadn't seen in awhile. So, without further ado, I bring you: 

My sis and her babies. 

my 3 nieces.

one of my all-time fav's. 4 oldest babies in the family riding the wild bucking (or not) sofa! 

'Літний душ'- Summer shower. Outside, gravity operated. :)

Мура/Murra- the best cat on earth... or she was. I'd tell her off for sneaking in and hiding under beds and in bedding storage- and she'd bring me a mouse. She died this past winter and is one cat I miss.

preps a few years ago. Loved it then, love it now.

gypsy woman's skirt. I stepped on it as I followed her down the bus steps... and I wasn't hot on her heels, either. It just really flowed/dragged/something out behind her. ;)

Love this one of Mom's oldest brother, my Uncle Larry. Mom and some of her sibs took a trip out to the West coast with their dad and had a blast. I don't have many pix of my extended family so treasure each one.

grape harvest, southern Ukr. Some of the best grapes I've ever tasted.

Little boy full of vigor and vim and living in desperate circumstances- most days, his meals consist of macaroni with ketchup or oatmeal. A tea bag is shared among the whole family. His mom is disabled (likely because of an old head injury) and desperately trying to hold her family together. Officials keep a close eye on the family, asking the children if their coats and boots were new this year or are last season's, asking what they get to eat. This kid always sparkled, though, and was happy to chat and be fussed over. Love the teeth... or lack of! In many ways, he's a typical 7 year old. 

Little Princess. But pic mostly memorable because of the memories of that day. oh me oh my. 

Hard to remember these days... had lots of the white stuff this winter. 

This kid lives her life as a blur so the pic is very appropriate. We see her each Thurs; she's usually finishing her nap when we arrive and then comes sliding in after awhile. Like a lot of kids, she has a favorite item of clothing- a pair of yoga-type pants, in her case. heh. Hers are so loved and well worn that there is very little left of them, really. I mean, most of her backside hangs out not to mention her knees. They're literally worn to shreds. Her parents and 2 big sisters looked like they'd die the first time she showed up in them. We roared. She fled. :)

You'd have to know him to fully appreciate the pic. He's all rough and gruff on the outside but a whole lot softer inside than he'd like you to know. 

These dogs must surely come from the same gene pool. Do litter mates spend the rest of their lives as best friends? hmmmm

even though I don't do a lot of Dew anymore, I can't help but automatically check the cold drinks in case PepsiCo has decided to begin importing it into Ukr... Not yet, apparently.

somewhat relevant ramblings

In the never changing always different series of events that is my life I bring you:

More Of The Same With a Twist. ;)
As guests in a foreign country, you must comply with their laws or face the consequences. Simple. Well around here the laws change. A lot. I know this and try to keep up with them. Last fall brought a new one that no 2 lawyers could agree on how to interpret (when I say 'laws' I mean the laws that apply to foreigners in this country) and the officials to whom we report in the various regions (this would be sort of similar to the INS in the US as far as I know) couldn't agree either. Some said one thing, some said the opposite. And passport control at the various border checkpoints didn't agree, either. This got most interesting when the regional authorities responsible for you and the passport control you dealt with were of 2 different persuasions. I stayed pretty calm throughout it all since my local authorities and the border people I was most likely to deal with were saying the same thing. Until some time this winter... but I never found out about that until last week. Short of popping into the local authorities' offices every week, there's not a lot you can do to really stay apprised of their latest take on the law. So. I made a very fast (and ultimately pleasant) trip to Poland to get my passport issues straightened out.

Now the trip back. Upper bunk on a very warm (tropical) train, leaving about 4 pm. There's a man frantically stuffing baggage into the storage compartments in my compartment when I get on so I leave my suitcase there and go chat out the window with my friends on the platform. When the train leaves, I go back. Mr Man has been replaced by 2 women and a baby. (Oh Joy. Really- I love kids- anyone who knows me knows this. I love babies, love to watch them, love to be with them- they are truly special. However, travelling all night on a train with a baby is just not on the list of Happy Events Of the 21st Century. Night trains put strangers in very close quarters for an extended period of time; no is really comfortable though everyone makes the best of it. 6 month old babies, though, don't have a clue what's going on. They tend to be fussy because of all the out-of-the-ordinary stuff going on around them and all the strange people, many of whom try to stick their faces right into Baby's. They don't usually sleep on the train. It's just not a fun trip- not for them and not for anyone travelling with them, parents included. This little dude was adorable but I'll have to confess- I wasn't overjoyed to see him.) But the really amazing thing- Mr Man (who turned out to be Dad of Baby) had packed the compartment- top to bottom, side to side- with Baby's and Mom's stuff. The SUV-sized baby buggy was taking up my entire bed. I looked on in stunned amazement and then politely asked if we could somehow rearrange stuff to make room ummm for me. Really- I wouldn't have chosen to be there but I was. And there was nowhere for me to go. At all. (I'd already asked.) I was quiet and polite. But there was nothing to do but make room for me. I even had a ticket for exactly 1/4 of the space in that compartment. I could have gotten the conductor but it's always better to work things out rather than tattle... They both looked totally offended. There wasn't even room for my 2 feet to get inside the compartment. After they changed their clothes (yes, with the door wide open and me in it) they started playing with Baby. I wanted to laugh- I had no intention of digging into their stuff and beginning to rearrange it all right there in front of them- that seemed rude and inappropriate- and I had no place to go. I asked again. The non-Mom got up and angrily started shoving bags and the stroller around. I tried to help. I tried to show good will by indicating that she didn't have to clear as much space as I was entitled to but just enough for me to get onto my bed and stash my suitcase somewhere. She was having none of it. She was ANGRY and it was MY FAULT. She had to have my help, though- it was too much for her. I don't think I've ever been in quite that situation before. She was just plain MAD. And nothing would make it better. We finally got the SUV settled with all the excess bags on top of it and my stuff on the other bed. And then SHE set in to thoroughly ignore me. The mom of Baby was completely mute in all of it. And- Baby turned out to be just about the sweetest and easiest 6 month old I've ever met. And- he went down for the night at about 10 pm and no more was heard from him! Wow. ;)
Polish passport control got a serious laugh from all of us when he asked Mom of Baby if Baby were travelling with her. giggle. Someone said- Uh no- he's on his own. Passport Man smiled.
Ukrn passport control was brief- nothing of interest in there at all except for me since I was the only non-Ukr. Here's where Angry Female Passenger got back in the picture. I'd told passport control where I was going, what I was doing in Ukr and a bunch of other fairly uninteresting but necessary stuff while the other 2 watched. Afterwards, Mom of Baby tried to visit... with me. She was a friendly sort. But every question she asked me was (wrongly) answered by Angry Female Passenger. I'd give the correct answer after she'd had her say. Then another question, another outburst from AFP and then my turn (this consisted of Are you Ukrn' by birth? Of course she is, AFP said; Are your parents Ukr'n? Of course (AFP); How do you even know Ukrn? Stuff like that). One of the most interesting exchanges I've been involved in. Not sure what Mom of Baby thought but she kept a straight face and I just answered her questions and ignored AFP.
Next AFP and MoB had a conversation where AFP tried to insist on closing the door and MoB politely but firmly insisted that it was unhealthy for her baby to be in a closed compartment- he was hot and sweaty and he needed cool air. This flies in the face of traditionally held baby raising beliefs here but AFP finally gave up and wrapped herself in blankets and went to sleep. (And I was immensely and mutely grateful for the open door- it was an oven up on my bunk.)
With the remnants of much coffee and 1/2 liter of Mountain Dew still coursing through my system, I got down to the business of sleeping as well. Last border controls were about midnight. My stop was supposed to be at 4.22 am. Woke up at 3 worried that the conductor wouldn't remember that I needed to get off and lay there thinking about breathing and caffeine and such for the next 40 min. At 3.40, the conductor sticks her head in and (not at all quietly) commands me to get up and get ready to get off. I'm in quietly obey mode so I do. Wash my face in the bathroom. The train slows down, I get nervous. Get back to my compartment and haul my suitcase and backpack out into the corridor. Get into my jacket. Train stops. Conductor frantically motioning from the other end of the corridor- Come on, this is a very short stop (it was- proly only 2 min at most). I flee with my bags. As I vault myself onto the platform, Conductor grins- You didn't forget anything, did you? I laugh. Don't think so but it's too late if I did. Train begins to move. Another lady from further up the train (acquaintance of the conductor) ambles past.
-Hey- conductor yells. Where you going?
Other Passenger answers.
Conductor to me- Where you going?
I answer.
Conductor to me- Well go with her. She's got a driver and you're headed the same way. Go on. You don't want to be here at 4 am. (True enough- but I also have never in my life seen these people before.) Conductor is sailing out of the station by this time. Go on, she hollers. They look at me, I look at them. Ok, Other Passenger says, Come on. So I do.
And that is how I found myself zipping down the road at 4 am with a stuttering taxi driver (who relaxed when he got over his fear of me and didn't stutter at all anymore), a drunk male (friend of some sort of Other Passenger) and a very jolly Other Passenger. They all knew each other and had much to talk about and many cigarettes to smoke and even some coffee to drink.
And at 5.30, I was in my own bed ready to get a few more hours of sleep. 

French herb mix

Patty asked re the French herb mix I use (and love). I'm sure I've mentioned it on here before but can't find it at all... and I guess going through 3 1/2 years of blog posts looking for the blend in the stuff I use... just isn't on my list of things to do. I googled it, though, and found it's actually a pretty common mix. Following are some recipes. And the wikipedia page describing it. Note: Wiki mentions that lavender is added in the American mixes but not included in France. The bottle I have did not have lavender. I somehow think that would be a pretty strong flavor...


the second one here looks very much like the one I have.
this one looks good... but I don't remember fennel seeds in mine...
and this one (minus the lavender) looks good, too. Actually, more like what's in the bottle I have.

The stuff really is good. Very good! yummmmmm

somewhat relevant ramblings

Someone just pointed out to me that Google has a cute little clip up on their home search page. I guess it's for Charlie Chaplin's 122'nd birthday! Go to their home page cute :)

We had some gorgeous and warm days last week. The sky looked liked summer.

Tulips in the village are up!

And- those birds on steroids? In fact, they're back! Not a very good shot but the pole in the center of the pic wearing a hat? That hat's a stork's nest. And there are 2 of them in it. I s'pect there will soon be babies..

These boots were beside me at the checkout counter recently. I strongly liked and clicked! 

There are 20 of these flower beds ascending the steps to the monument in the park. And they're going to be busting out in tulip color before too awful long! 

My favorite tree in the park. 

The park was crawling with people this morning. There must have been over a hundred people working on picking up trash and limbs, sweeping the walks and using spades to get the weeds out of the cracks in the walks. The funny thing is- for the past month, crews of city employees have been half-heartedly working in here. They 'worked' in clusters of 5 or 6 people. 'Worked' as in lounged on the ground, drank tea, smoked cigarettes and talked. Oh- and they had bonfires. Occasionally, they moved a rake or chain saw. They got a little bit done. 

The folks this morning, though, got more done in a few hours than the other folks had gotten done in the month or so they'd been at it. 

Further signs of spring!

this poor beast has been parked outside our entrance since... at least since last November. Looks like we'll no longer be able to say- And we're the door by the orange car... ;) They tell me this happens every spring. Mr Owner Man gets Old Faithful up and running again and putters around town in it all spring, summer and fall. 

T's take

the rest of her take: He just crawled out of the mud somewhere and is trying to figure out where he is. My take: And he has a headache. He really looked and acted like he was hung over. 

Signage

spotted at the bus station recently while waiting in line for tickets: 

Our motto- serve passengers.

impatient ones - patiently

shy ones - carefully

easily offended ones - tactfully

rude ones - with restraint

finicky ones - with consideration

:) Good luck with that! :) 

and this one downtown which caught my attention because it's about an extremely sensitive and political issue: Here, behind the walls of the jail, in the 40's and 50's the Bolshevik and the Nazi regimes imprisoned and tortured thousands of Ukrainian patriots. Eternal monument to the ones who perished.
Now- the Nazi bit isn't controversial- it's totally politically correct here to hate the Nazis for what they did during the war.** The bit about the Ukrainian patriots being tortured by the Bolsheviks, though, is painful and controversial. There are still families of Ukrainian Resistance fighters living side by side with the families of the Red Army Soldiers who hunted them down and killed them. One of my teachers in Lviv got all hot about it one day. Her dad was a good Soviet and career military man. She's a native Russian speaker. Lviv is about as hot-blooded Ukrainian as you can get. The Resistance fighters are still considered to be heroes there. And they have no use for the Russians. And especially the Red Army. My teacher was angry because 'they' were calling her dad an evil person and butcher. She thinks of him as her personal hero. Ouch. So- this sign caught my eye. Ukraine co-exists with herself.. but uneasily, at times. In many parts of the country, a sign like this wouldn't even be considered much less put up. 

**In the US, we study, read and know about the 'Western Front'. For much of WW II, Ukraine was the 'Eastern Front'. And it was dreadful. Recently, we visited some friends and the lady (a few years older than me) was recalling some of her mom's war tales. When her mom was a girl, they were going to town in a wagon. They looked out and saw a field and soldiers systematically shooting... Jews. One regiment of Nazis executed about a thousand people a day (mostly Jews) for (a week- can't remember exactly the time period). The Ukrainian Jewish population was devastated during that time. Entire villages all but disappeared. 

Otherwise known as a playground

The courtyard by the block of apartments where we live

scooters

being met by rollerblades

pals

and the boys, of course, play football... (soccer)

spring in Ukr

 

Yes, yes we did. Welcome back!

uhh- sorry about that. Put on your woolies and sit tight- it'll be gone soon...

Anything. And I don't even mind it when you wake me up in the morning. My room here overlooks a large 'blank' expanse of grass and is host to a ton of birds. And they do wake me up with their singing on sunny days... :)

I'm not necessarily a 'go green' type... but I am right now! It's fantastic to finally see more than grey and brown and white. Yay!

Walking in the park these days I've been hearing the birds... and they're ventriloquists. No kidding. I look up and can't find the bird anywhere even though it sounds like it's right over my head. 

and- a little later- the sign that spring is firmly and completely with us- the return of the storks. They should be arriving soon, actually. And if there ever was a bird on steroids... the stork is it. They're big, ungainly and ugly but welcomed by the locals as a symbol of good luck. If a stork chooses to build a nest on your property- well- the sun could not smile brighter! ;)

Spring! :)

Every spring- this happens. 

My The park last week

2 days later

and a day or so later...

not that the tree buds and the burning are related...and- as you can see- they didn't burn the whole thing... it sort of rained on their parade...

and a bus station dog... trying to find some shade? Or just getting out of people's way? ;)

Vegetable Soup

I think I might have blogged this before but it's so good (and so easy), it seemed ok to do it again.

You don't have to start with soup stock- you can but not necessary. If you do, I'd start with chicken or pork. I boiled a chicken breast in a pot of water and then took it out and chunked it up and used it in something else. The soup itself is meatless. A friend who is allergic to MSG taught me to season soups with herbs instead of bouillon cubes or canned soups. Mostly I use basil and a mix I got in France- heavy on the basil.

Pot of chicken breast water. Salt. Lots of sage, basil and the French mix.
Cut up a zucchini-like squash and tossed into the herby chicken breast water.
Cut up pepper, celery, onions, leeks, and grated carrots and potatoes and sauteed (in butter). You can skip the sauteeing- sometimes I do; my friend who showed me how to make this never sautees. The point is to fill your kettle with all the veggies it'll hold- and nearly anything is fair game. I would NOT use broccoli, cauliflower (and not too much celery- very strong flavors) or cabbage. Boil till all the veggies are cooked.
Puree it. (I add more potatoes and puree again if it's not as thick as I'd like.)
Now- I don't know if it will be kid (or husband) friendly- but I love it! Very thick and very yummy. And lo-cal.
Soup is a staple here. I'm guessing most Ukrainians eat it once a day (or so). Oh sure, not everyone likes it but most do. And we eat a lot of it... 

I have a friend

Agnes and Trout. Friends forever. Truly.

True pointless (and painful) trivia- we spent the day walking around Kyiv awhile back with some friends... and at the end of the day, I had a funny painful bump on my big toe. No joke. Listen feet- I've always (the last 15 years anyway) only worn good, comfortable shoes... what's up with this? I did NOT do that for you to just *POP* pop up a bunion! grrrr...

I'm almost always Agnes. sigh....

here, however, I'm both. :)

hmmmmm......

Ok- not Agnes but it belongs because I'm Beetle this time. 

You know who you are... and this time, you're the grandma. hahaha

Memo to Self

more somewhat relevant ramblings

The drunks at the bus station Sunday night? yeah. There's more. I passed the time waiting for the bus by people-watching. There were some 'slightly smashed' adults around, too. Including a man who looked to be in his 40's or 50's. Well- remember this lady? This generic lady that's found in most bus stations around this country? She had a colleague patrolling the platforms Sunday night. A typically shaped and dressed and all that colleague- a typical woman of her job description- tough, given to loudly telling people off and being a fierce defender of her territory and rules... and built like a Mack truck. And about once every 10 minutes, she'd sidle up to the afore-mentioned drunk and let him put his arms around her and cuddle up and slur odd things to her- and the first time it happened I was close enough to realize that they were complete strangers. I'm not sure what it is about some women that makes them actually like this kind of thing. It's no wonder, though, that a lot of men will try it- mostly no one tells them to get lost. Shudder. I'm not sure if this stuff goes on back home, too, and I've just been too sheltered to know it or if it just doesn't happen. I do know what I do on the rare occasion that they try it with me. Squint my eyes like a snake and leave. You can't really talk to a drunk and you'd better not do bodily injury (even if you'd like to). And Never EVER make eye contact with a drunk. Never. I reckon a lot of this has to do with unspoken body language- and I can give off a pretty good silent growl and snarl.
And that same drunk? Later, he did sally up to us. T had gone to the store and gotten lavash- ours is about 1/2 way down this page- the Armenian soft kind (a whole page of pix- the stuff is YUMMY) and we were eating it. Up saunters Mr Drunk and says Excuse Me (in English) That is very bad for your health (in Russian). The irony of being told off by a drunk for putting something unhealthy into your body was too good for words. We collapsed in a fit of giggles on the spot. And enjoyed our lavash.

somewhat relevant ramblings

It's really time for an update here. So- here goes!
-The last week, we've been on hold. Or in a holding pattern. Something. T's been working on paperwork. You know- it's amazing what goes on around here. There are new laws- all the time. You have to keep up with the ones that apply to you. So- supposedly there's a new law regarding foreigners-
Have a visa? You're good. Good to stay for the duration of the visa. 
Plain and Simple. Sounds great, right? (We used to have to get a visa and then present ourselves to the Immigration Authority (well- passport people- they deal with passport issues for the locals, immigration for the rest of us)- And believe me- that was no picnic. They look at you like you're the scum off of a farmer's barn boots and trying to walk through the Presidential Palace in your muckies. They get paid to yell at you. They are unreal- usually- There is one very nice office populated with normal people- I've had the good fortune to deal with them most often.) The law has changed so many times in the last 10 years it's enough to make you dizzy. This post refers to how it's been the past year and a half. So- the new law. It sounds good. In fact- it sounds great and fantastic. Fewer hurdles, fewer obstacles. And why not? If you've gotten through the hurdles of actually getting a visa- you've obviously gotten through a lot of red tape and hurdles already and they've decided you're harmless. Only thing is- each region seems to have it's own idea of what actually is the law. My people say- Yup, that's the law. You can't register with us anymore- just a visa, that's all you need. T's people say- There is ONE law and you MUST be registered HERE with US. (And then- a long list of documents and stamps to get. Run here. Run there. On and On. And- they give you the list of stuff you need a week or so before you have to submit it- they won't give it to you earlier. And folks- it changes. But that's beside this point.) And the border guards? Ha. They all say different things. At the airport they say- You must register with the local authorities. At 2 other checkpoints- they say- Nope- no registering with the local authorities- you just need a visa. One person I know was told You must register with the local authority (by passport control at the airport) and Nope- we can't register you (by her local authority). Ask lawyers- they all say something different. Apparently the law's not very clear...  (Ok- I'll admit this is a lot more interesting to me than you- but the thing is- our whole life has mostly been on hold this last week while T danced on the end of their strings. Thankfully- she got her passport back today with all the required stamps and permissions.) :)
-Was walking home this afternoon and cut past the elevated entrance to an electronics store and an older gentleman was standing there watching the world go by. Suddenly, he looked right at me and, in Russian, sang Come to me, bird of happiness. No joke- true story. I grinned at him and said Hello. And kept walking. (I'm not that dumb.)
-It's great to have friends. Truly. Yesterday, a dear friend fixed our ... porcelain throne... john... uh- toilet. I think there was a ghost living in it last week. It just started flushing itself. No joke. We're sitting at our desks working and SWOOSH, ROAR, RUSH- the toilet's flushing. Again. And if it didn't actually flush itself, the tank slowly drained and then refilled. OK- so it was probably a bad seal and not a ghost. But- it was driving me nuts. And the plumber the landlord likes to call is a clown. So- 3 cheers for good friends who come to your aid!
-Football- you know what that is, right? Well- here, it's 'soccer'. I mean- 'football' refers to what Americans call 'soccer' (you knew that)- and it's BIG. HUGE. Just about the only sport, in fact. And there was a game a couple blocks from our friends' place Sun evening. No biggie. Enjoy your game. And then we went to the bus station to catch the 9 pm bus home. ha. Big Ha. The place is crawling with football fans, mostly about half my age, male and completely wound up (and drunk). And most waiting for the same 24 (or so) seat bus we're waiting for. Whoa. Most of them, though, don't bother with a ticket- they save about 25 cents that way- so we actually managed to get tickets. Bus comes. I see it out of the corner of my eye as it pulls into the lot and I am first off the line and over to the platform while they're all still milling elsewhere. But, in 10 seconds they all surge over and swarm around and I get buried in the crowd. T wiggles her way to the front. The driver stands at the top of the stairs and makes ticketless people wait till the rest of us are on and seated. And then he starts grinning and collecting fares and letting the post game partiers on. And they poured themselves on and down the aisle, back to front and tried to find something to hang onto. And we pulled out. And about 30 min later, I felt someone falling onto me. I looked up- a drunk and passed out kid had sort of braced himself up and was bouncing up and down off my seat, my head, the people next to him. I asked him to please stand up straight (heehee- that's such a funny one- he peeled one eye open, schlurred Schorry and fell right back on top of me). I got out my water bottle and held it over my shoulder so that he at least bounced off of that instead of me- but it was a long trip. Entertained myself briefly with the image of me with a meat fork in my coat pocket for just such an occasion- and then went back to reading... because we all know that wouldn't really be nice now, Would it? ;) And then we started getting the treat of someone's odor. Someone- and I don't know who or when- had 'wet himself'. heh. The lovely evidence of too much liquor; so much that you don't even realize you have to go to the restroom or know that you just did... minus the actual restroom. I felt sorry for the bus driver... Or maybe he didn't clean it up... just left it. gag.
-I was rooting for Butler. Ok- I said it at Super Bowl time and I'll say it again- I'm no big fan of sports, really. But March Madness always has been sort of exciting. And then- when it's a 'hometown' (nearly) team with an 80+% graduation rate for their athletes (as opposed to 30 something % for the other guys; when they're more academics than sports... and they make it to the championship game 2 years in a row- how can you NOT root for them?! Besides- my college choices, way back when, came down to Purdue or Butler. In the end, cost and the people I'd be with made me choose Purdue... but Butler's always been on my radar.
-I stopped at the Post Office today- sent off a bunch of letters AND picked up a batch!! Yay! Hurray for snail mail. I don't keep up nearly as well as I should... but I do love letters. A lot. And it's a real treat to be in this city where the PO looks like any PO in Europe; where the clerks smile and are friendly and make small talk; where it's modern and where the mail actually arrives. Wow. Welcome to the 21 Century, Ukraine!! xo and Goodnight!

chocolate and mint and such

Do you need a new cookie recipe. Try this one... it looks fantastic!! :)
Speaking of cookies- I got some chocolate the other day- some mint chocolate, of all things- have never seen it here. At All. Yay. However- Boo- it really is just sort of lacking. The chocolate is just not... chocolate. Or something. I'll tell you one thing- we have really good chocolate around these parts. I don't think it's always been that way (although these folks have always preferred their own stuff claiming that it is much better than the Western stuff).
Let's back up. Europe has good chocolate. There is no way to deny it. I love M&M's. I love Snickers bars. I love some other American chocolate stuff. But, for the most part, our chocolate gets blown out of the water by the European stuff. I mean This is where Belgium and Switzerland are. And- well, there's a reason they've got the reputation. The first Ukrn chocolate I had here was not so hot. It was grainy and just... Well, it was 'take it or leave it' (mostly leave it). A few years ago, I discovered this stuff- Roshen. Ok, now we're talking chocolate. Really. Good. Chocolate. Wow. Drop Dead Gorgeous Chocolate. This stuff is soooooo good. It's creamy and rich and just plain smooth and delicious. Eat till you get sick Yummy!
Ok- so back to the ranch- uhh- story. I found this mint chocolate- which is a favorite combination of mine. I got it. A box of it. And it's.... 'take it or leave it' (mostly leave it). But- I have this recipe- wanna see it? 'K. :)
This is from some very good friends- brothers- and I don't remember which one actually came up with the recipe but it's a good one. Thanks for ever giving it to me a hundred years or so, Ryan! ;)

Peppermint Pattie Cookies

• 2/3 cup butter, softened
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 egg
• 1/2 tsp vanilla
• 1 1/2 cup flour
• 1/3 cup cocoa
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1 TBS milk
• 12-14 small York Peppermint Patties

Beat butter and sugar; add egg and vanilla, blending well. Mix flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt. To butter mixture alternately add the flour mixture and the milk, blending well. Refrigerate (till firm enough to handle- about an hour). Lightly grease cookie sheet. Flatten each peppermint pattie. Shape small portion of dough around a pattie, completely covering. Bake @ 350 for 10-12 min (till soft). Important- Do NOT overbake- these are best quite soft. Cool 1 min; remove from pan to wire rack to finish cooling (although they are best while still warm)! And- this dough is very sticky so be ready to get messy hands. 

So- the deal? While the stuff I have out in the kitchen is a LONG ways from York Peppermint Patties (drool- now there's something worth importing!) I'm going to try making these cookies with that stuff... and we'll see how it goes. 

NASA song contest

Apparently, some folks whom I don't know personally but who many of my friends do know personally- apparently they are in the finals for a song contest NASA is running. For details of the contest and to vote, click here. Their song is 'Dreams You Give'; song author is Brian Plunkett. If you would like to vote and give their song a boost- Hop to it! I hear that you can vote as often as you want... so click away! ;) (The song is deliciously sweet... and the kids' voices are, too!)