Christmas Caramels

Caramels (in my big kettle)

1 cup of pecan pieces roasted. ()300 degrees for 25 min. Cool. 

Spray the silicone candy molds with vegetable oil or if you don’t use molds - butter two 9x13 pans, and line with parchment paper and butter that too.  You wanna be ready to pour the caramel . Caramel recipe makes about 94 carmels.  After spraying the molds add some nuts to some of them or put some nuts on top of the buttered parchment in one of the pans. Leave the other one just buttered. In a HEAVY big pot ( I use my 12 qt because it's a heavy one,  but half that size would be fine if you have a heavy one) mix: 

6 Cups Heavy Whipping Cream 

4 Cups white sugar

2 2/3 brown sugar

1 1/3 cups of light corn syrup

 Stir constantly while bringing mixture to a boil,  to dissolve the sugar. Once the mixture comes to a boil put on low,  med heat (3 or 4 on my stove). Stop stirring, and put a candy thermometer on the pot, or use an instant thermometer. Takes about 25 minutes to reach 250 degrees, here in AZ but watch closely (times vary), and stir occasionally just so the bottom doesn’t burn. Once the mixture gets to 250 degrees remove from heat and add: 

2 Tablespoons vanilla

2 Tablespoons kosher salt

4 Tablespoons butter

Stir well, and I pour the caramel in a gravy boat to be able to do a neat job pouring the caramel into the molds. I leave some plain, some with the nuts and sprinkle some coarse kosher salt on the tops of some for salted carmels.  Let them sit at room temp several hours. Turn out of molds or cut in pieces. Find yourself a good Christmas movie, grab a pair of gloves and wrap, wrap, wrap in twist wrappers (they sell these on Amazon these days, 3.5x5).   These make nice gifts. 

A Friendship...Deleted

Have you ever had a friendship you thought would never, ever end but it did? Instant death too, I’m talking about.  Not the typical, “we drifted apart when she had children and I didn’t”. Not, “I moved” or “she moved”… nothing like that. I had a twenty year friendship that ended that way, twenty something years ago. She disappeared out of my life, and it’s a cold case file.  Out of the blue,  she just wouldn’t come to the phone, wouldn’t call me back, wouldn’t answer my cards and letters I sent asking,  and finally begging, her to tell me what was wrong?  

I have no enemies that I know of.  Oh, I have people who don’t like me for whatever reason,  I’m sure.  I don’t stay mad long,  and I try and work out disagreements that inevitably happen between people. If you absolutely can't work with someone you just have to let it go, because some people just like to bitch and fight. That's not me.  When they can’t be worked out, I can easily “agree to disagree” and respect their side of what you don’t see eye to eye on. Oh I am "set in my ways" like Mom would say and I choose to keep my own opinion without winning them over.  For me to be cut off from someone, so important to my everyday life, was much like a divorce, although maybe those of you who’ve had one of those, are thinking and rightfully so, “ya right”! But it really was like a stranger than life case you see on TV. You know where the person goes missing.  Someone you’d least expect to do that. They never get in contact with you. There’s no ending, no answers and no justice.

I grieved the loss of her like a divorce or death. I ask her family, my family, our mutual friends what should I do to fix what I didn’t know was broken?  I must have done something horrendous, but what, I ask myself?  Why don’t I get a chance to at least defend what I did… if I did something, said something, didn’t do something, or should have done something! Whatever it was I blamed myself, I obviously did something!  

 I comforted  her after she lost a baby, she comforted me when I had a miscarriage, we shared all our sons t-ball games, baseball games, proms, school programs, girls nights out, birthday parties. One of the nicest cards I’d ever gotten in my life I got from this her, with a whole page written about how much she depended on my friendship. I just threw it away, last time I was in Minot. It took me that many years to part with it.  

I went through all the stages of grief, and then anger. Anger, that she would do this to my kids too. Make them question what friends are, and drop out of their lives. I’d move forward in grief and then fall back to feeling sorry for myself.  Self-remorse, self-hatred that was always my mantra for everything wrong in my life.  Whatever I must have done or said haunted me.

If you are going through grief for any kind of loss, the stages of grief are:

 1-Denial-"this can't be happening to me", not accepting or even acknowledging the loss. (I rationalized something must be going on with her husband, he never did like me, the fat friend.)  

 2-Anger-"why me?" or feelings of wanting to fight back, or get even with spouse of divorce, for death, anger at the deceased, blaming them.

3-Bargaining-bargaining often takes place before the loss if it’s one you’re expecting, but can happen after the loss as well. Attempting to make deals with God to stop or change the loss. Begging, wishing, praying for them to stay come back.

4-Depression -overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, frustration, bitterness, self-pity, mourning loss of person as well as the hopes, dreams.

 5-Acceptance - there is a difference between resignation and acceptance. You have to accept the loss, not just try to bear it quietly. Realization that the person is gone.

I finally chalked it up to insanity. I reviewed everything I tried to do. I contacted her probably six times. I decided, I did all I can do. I finally cut the string and let the hot air she’d filled me with float away.  I turned my goal toward my own personal growth. Not going to say I don’t have a scar there on my tree trunk because I do, but I’m ok with it.  

Strange thing is this friend had a history of not talking to her family members for years at a time, but I never thought she’d do that to me! Isn’t that bizarre in hindsight that I didn’t think she’d do it to me? Don’t you have to do something? She has a sister she hasn’t spoken to for years.  Maybe you are thinking, what was I thinking, being friends with her in the first place? But she was a well-liked, respected person and has a lot of people duped into thinking she is sincere.

She would leave comments under my face book comments, because we know a lot of the same people.  I blocked her so I don’t even see her name. Then she contacted my kids to be Facebook friends.  Feels a little like having some screws turned into you, one crank at a time.

I have never let myself that close to any girlfriend again, nor do I want to. And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing but I prefer my sisters and my kids company. Actually that was kind of the end of girlfriends for me.  I’m the jilted lover that stayed single ha.  I have some friends, but I keep myself an arm’s length away. I feel somewhat unchristian like saying I don’t want her back in my comfort zone, but I don’t. I don’t want an apology, I don’t want to see her name and I don’t want to hear about her. For years I was asked about her every time I ran into people.  If I unexpectedly bump into her sometime, I have no idea how I’ll feel or act. Like I said I like everyone… so it’s new territory for me not to just be friendly.

After twenty years it is not as painful as it once was.  I used to want an explanation, then an apology and even though I feel she owes me that… I don’t want it now.  I have higher standards for myself these days! I have been schooled for 17 seasons of Dr. Phil and listened he said, “when someone shows you what they are the first time, believe it”! I tell my kids that all the time.  I am taking the advice I’d give my kids if they were in this situation, which would be “stay away, you don’t need to be brought down by mean girls. I don’t either.

There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go.  ~Author Unknown

Empty Success

    I had a great young life on the farm in ND. We grew up with lots of cats, a couple of collie dogs, and rode all kinds of horses. We were grain farmers and had horses on the PMU line, which was collecting pregnant mares urine for hormone pills. The first horses we learned to ride were a big black Belgian team, and their names were Tiny and Tony. They were gentle giants. Eventually they got sold (we were used to horses coming and going because our Dad was in the horse trading business). Then we each (Kathy and I) had Shetland ponies and they were sweet but they had their tricks to get us off and they used them!  When people brought their horses and left them to get bred, heck, we rode them too.

My sisters and I (on Clarke)

Cowboy Clarke

      One of the happiest days of my life though,  was when I got Cowboy Clarke. He was a registered Quarter Horse gelding. Even his name was cool.  Like I said, we grew up riding and horses came and went, but this horse was one in a million. Dad came to the house and told me to come to the barn. Sensing he had something he was excited about, it had to be good! I ran to the barn! Dad said, "you know who that is don't you'? Puzzled, I said, "No". He said, "Jim Zimmerman's horse Cowboy Clarke"! Now I knew! Jim used to compete with him, was older than me, and had quit horseshows.  Ray his Dad, and my Dad, were friends. Dad said, he was trading Ray one of the 2 year olds we had just bought in South Dakota (Prissy Toad) and some breeding fees for Clarke "IF YOU CAN HANDLE HIM"! He said exactly, " we will take him to the fair in a few days and if you can handle him he's yours"! A few days later, I was entered in the barrel racing and pole bending at the North Dakota State fair. He circled the judges timing steak and we broke the pattern in the barrels but I got 5th ( a pink ribbon) in the pole bending and I managed to stop him, so I guess that was good enough. I was eleven years old. I had my dream horse and my new best friend.

     I practiced with him at the farm the rest of that summer. The following year we hit all the horse shows in the Northwest Saddle Club Association circuit, which meant we traveled with a horse for Dad to show in Halter Classes, (and most of the time he got beat by the horse he traded the Zimmermans for my horse), my Cowboy Clarke and Sonny's Sharp Lady. I competed in the Jr. Division and Sonny in the Sr division. Dad would go over to the building where you paid entry fees to enter, and come back with me entered in a bunch of events I'd never even tried before! Like the Keyhole, the Ring Race, the Rescue Race, Barrels, Poles, Shoe Scrambles and anything else he thought I could do. I only wanted to do what I'd practiced, but he was the boss and I wanted to please him!

     I had a successful year though, and so did Sonny for that matter I think he was second runner up in the senior division. That fall, after horse show season was over, Dad was testing mares for pregnancy. One mare that was new, reared back and came forward- pining him against the manger in the stall. He died three weeks later from a lacerated liver that gangrene took over in. That was October 16, 1967. To say that it was a rough few years is an understatement. Mom, Kathy and I lived on the farm alone with 75 or so horses to care for. Sonny came over from where he lived, but there were times the roads were blown shut. ND in the winter, in the middle of the prairie, isn't for sissies.

    The next May, the next horse show season was ready to start, but there was an awards ceremony for the 1967 season first in Kenmare. Sonny and I went alone. I got a huge trophy and a silver belt buckle for All Around Jr. Horsemanship, for having the most accumulated points!  I also got first in barrels racing and pole bending! Driving home on the gravel road, I remember watching the grass wiz by on the side of the road, a firm grasp on my awards, knowing Dad would be proud, but feeling so empty and sad. Sonny was a quiet guy, and we didn't talk about feelings. None of us did. We just had empty, loud moments like this one, that screamed Dad really is dead....gone forever, not coming back. Another cold winter night after chores, we sat down at the table to have soup, Mom, Kathy and I. It was dark out and for some reason we all looked up at the door  at the same time and could read each others minds.  There was no Daddy coming in for supper and we all cried. But, we didn't talk, we ate our soup in silence, cleaned off the table and went to bed. That horse's neck was where I cried out my grief, shared my thoughts out loud and felt closest to my Dad. I took over his saddle and rode in it the from then on. I still have it in my bedroom. I picture him with his little short legs on his horse lots of times.

    I kept on riding in horse shows, until I was sixteen or so and Sonny lost interest. He had his own little girls and family. By then Kathy was riding in horse shows too.  Mom drove us to our last horse show in Powers Lake, ND,  with our two horses in a stock rack in the back of our Chevy pickup. It got dark before they got to the barrel racing   and my horse couldn't see the first barrel and either could I ( I needed glasses ) until it was too late.  We flew through the fence, people scattering, sparks flying! Neither the horse or I got hurt but I ripped my pants from waist band to waist band and that was bad enough! To top it off we had a flat tire on the way home and had to unload the horses, and stand in the ditch with them, while some good samaritan helped Mom change it. Mom cried and said, "I can't do this anymore, we have to stop the horse shows". And we did. I still rode in Blaisdell or somewhere close to home.

    I had some great friends through, those horse show days. Cheri Albertson and I wrote letters on off weeks and waited to see each other at all the horse shows. Sometimes she'd beat me, sometimes I'd beat her, but we didn't care. We ate dust all day and cold watermelon from somebody's cooler between events. Nobody drank alcohol, it was just a lot of family fun. We had chokecherry fights with the Vesey boys and the Nelson brothers. It was a great way to grow up.

I don't want to be all mellow dramatic,  but I write these mostly for my kids, and Easton and I found the article in a treasure box last night, It had yellowed and was pretty frail so I decided to scan it and write about this important time in my life.  My horse was the center of life for me,  and some of my best/saddest days of my life happened at the same time.

When Clarke was about 20 years old, and I had kids of my own, I sold him to a young girl about 13 years old who wanted to take him to horse shows and learn to ride. I remembered how i felt getting him and he was not getting the love and attention anymore from me, I lived 60 miles away. He had a good "old life" with her and she loved him like i did. Here's to Cowboy Clarke, best friend for life.

Brendon digging my saddle out of the rafters for me to restore.

before restoration

It Isn't Going To Be Easy

What does long marriage look like at the end of your life? Is it a movie version? You know, a male and a female hobbling along, hand in hand, stopping for a lil peck, and then gingerly sitting down a park bench, he holding the umbrella over her and watching the sunset? Or in reality is it more like watching all star wrestlering? They share a ring, one in each corner venturing out to exchange some harsh words (hopefully no punches), but then retreat and get patched up for the next one! For me, the scene around here is somewhere in between those two with some moments of each. 

I am a type A and move at a “hurry up, lets go pace”. Kerry is notorious around here for sitting at the table, until all of us are loaded in the car before he comes out last, and in the eleventh hour, pops the hood on the car to check the oil! My hair is starting to fry just thinking about it! Finally were off, almost late now. Once we get to our destination, I hop out and try to lock the doors, just as his first foot is landing on the pavement to get out. I used to stand and wait at the front of the car feeling bugged and not hiding that fact either. 

Kerry on the other hand is not exactly laid back, either. He likes to control little things, like if the little lock in the center of the door knob. In his world that little knob should be pointing to 12 o'clock, so you can see from a distance that the door is locked, without having to walk over to check. Also, all two way switches have to be in the proper off/on position. My thoughts on that are pretty simple. I don’t have time for that bs. If the door is locked that's good enough, I have bigger fish to fry. In a nut shell, we are both control freaks can you tell? 

So, what works for us here is we run parallel most of the time. He stays in his lane, and me in mine. If he wants those switches, he can make that happen. Same story, with the door lock. The oil thing has become a thing of the past, thank you God, because our car is newer and is fine from oil change to oil change these days. When we get to a restaurant, I still hop out, and his foot still is hitting the pavement but I leave him to lock it and I march in and get a table and he comes at his own pace, that way I’m not bugging him by standing there, hair obviously on fire, and he can take his time. I more than likely have a drink by the time he comes in. 

So we are somewhat like both of the opening scenarios- we enjoy watching the kids in the backyard, talking about them, the day, the upcoming week. Talk about what a nice job Ramon did etc.  Then again we might snap each others heads off, faster then eating a crawfish and then retreat like the wrestlers,  only to come back in a half hour like it never happened. Never mentioned again. By now we know nobody is going to do any major changing so might as well save your breath. 

The real security of our long marriage is, he knows I will bring him coffee every morning while he’s still in bed and I know if I am sick he will cover for me. By that I mean we can count on each other. Is it perfect? No. But I hope in the end our kids will see that it takes compromise, commitment and basically a determination that we ARE staying together because if we don’t one of us would be missing this precious time with the kids and grandkids and that’s the currency that’s important to both of us. 

There are ways around being very different people. Who knows the real person when you are 18 and 20? It's all about chemistry then, and we all change with life. One of my favorite things about Kerry is he has always allowed me to be me, and do what I want. And I am forever grateful he went to work on the railroad with its horrendous hours and we farmed besides, while I was Mom first, and did lots of other jobs that only ‘fit with being home with the kids. I believe that’s why we have adults that we are proud of today, because we invested more time than money in them and they know they are our number one priority.   

So, I encourage you not to compare your long marriage with anyone else’s. No two people are the same. If you look up “perfect long marriages” on google,  you won’t see Kerry and Pam Picek that’s for sure!  But there are lots of ways to love and support each other but I hope the kids will think of us sliding into home plate one day together, dirty, bruised, broke a few rules, but hey ...we made like we promised we would in 1973. (Now watch… divorce papers filed next week ha…then I’ll have a new topic won’t I?)