Varoom!

I love to drive.

Subaru as seen in the wild, resting...

And my little red Subaru Forester who answers to the name of Bullet loves to be driven.

She is a mightily coordinated youngster who clings to twisting wet roads like a cougar, so she and I enjoy going places together, like on mountain roads in the rain and snow. (Yes, I did steal (belted radial) that image from the old GoodYear Tire commercial; your remembrance of that gives away your old age, so don't tell anyone...)

Anyway, I steer and Bullet boogies.

Snowy country road with Blue Ridge in the distance

This week we've been up and down 321 to Boone a half a dozen times. That's up and down, counted as one time. Bullet and I have actually traversed Highway 321 a total of twelve times since last Monday.

You see, my daughter broke her ankle two weeks ago, sledding in the perpetual snow storm that has blessed, plagued, and annoyed the Blue Ridge for nigh on ever since the Autumn leaves fell.

Well, after sitting in her dismal, cramped apartment caring for herself for five days, my youngest called for the best and most lovable rescue/care taker she knows. Dearest Mama.

"Can you please come get me?" she asked. My ears perked up like a happy Rat Terrier's. "But of course," I said.

Tugging on my comfy brown knitted boots, I hopped in Bullet and varoomed right up the mountain.

Now if you know me at all, you're aware that I suffer from the malady known to middle agers as the Empty Nest Syndrome. It goes through several stages. I am in Stage Four, the "Wondering Who the Heck I Am Now That There's No One Home to Nurture" stage. So if any of my kids or grandkids needs a little love, I'm there for them like lightening on a telephone pole in the middle of a lake in a thunderstorm on an August afternoon in Central Florida. That's fast, my friend.

Back to my kid. She has been my prisoner/victim until this last Monday when at last she was able to get a cast on her ankle.
The appointment was at 3:30; all went well. I got her home and snuggled into her apartment, her clothes in the wash, bed made and everything unpacked. Bullet and I at last arrived back to our home by 7:15 pm. I felt like Supermama, and Supermama was pooped! Bill cooked. I slept like a log. 

(Picture of adorable daughter in bright green cast should have gone here, but alas, we didn't get one!)

Then yesterday morning I got a phone call before I was out of bed. It was my daughter. In pain. The cast was pressing against the outside of her poor widdle foot.

Zoom zoom! Up 321, back down to Taylorsville, where the good doctor cut the cast away from her tortured toes, back up to Boone and down 321 to home. Whew!

(Don't worry. I'm mercifully sparing you the details; you don't want to know "why Taylorsville?".)

I think I've had enough of the mountain drive for one week.

I have other things to do today, like writing and drawing. I don't want to go back up the mountain tomorrow, either; or the rest of the week.

But I do love the mountain drive. Listening to Bach, with the bass turned up so that it vibrates the steering wheel beneath my fingertips.

I look out upon those deep blue mountains and can see so far around the earth that I almost sneak up on myself from the back!

I can tell where it's foggy and where it's raining and where the sun shines bright. I see Grandfather Mountain and Hawksbill and Table Rock. I see the storm front that is headed this way, floating just above the soft yellow sunset, tinged in greens and blues and pinks.

As for Bullet, she just hums along with me. She loves the setting sun, too. The cold crisp air, the scent of the pavement.

And of course our dear friend, Johann. (You know. Bach.)

Belgian Waffles with Cornmeal and Ground Walnuts

Pure, natural ingredients make for healthy and delicious meals.

Deber's Rule #1:

Use only natural ingredients. Whenever possible, use organic.

Deber's Rule #2

Measuring is meant to be a guideline, not a law. After all, cooking is an art, not rocket science or brain surgery...

but never over do baking soda or salt.

How many eggs can one eat before one has had one too many eggs?
In my opinion, exactly one dozen. Two each morning for six mornings in a row. Actually, I usually mix up my breakfast a little more than that, but try to keep it high protein and lower carb, so it will last until lunch.

This morning, Bill and I, having had enough of grown-up breakfasts, decided Belgium Waffles and bacon would be a nice change for today. The wonderful mixture of crispy and sweet with crunchy and salty just says "Sunday is Special". (That sounds a little too much like an old Shake N' Bake commercial, but you know what I mean.)

Since I'm trying to make my breads less glutenous right now, as well as higher in protein and fiber, I fiddled around with my usual basic waffle recipe and came up with this healthy, delicious new one.

Belgian Waffles with Cornmeal and Ground Walnuts
deber klein     Feb. 7, 2009

1/3 cup ground walnuts (I ground them in the coffee grinder - they will clump from the natural oils, so you may need to do two grindings. Measure them after ground.)
2 T corn grits, uncooked (If you don't have grits, you can substitute with corn meal.)
2T corn meal
2 T ground flaxseed
Unbleached flour – add enough to the above ingredients to make between 1 ¾ to 2 cups total flour mixture. (So you’ll be using maybe 1 ¼ cup of flour.)
1 t baking soda
1 t baking powder
1 T brown sugar
Blend above ingredients well. Then add:

2 eggs
5 T melted, salted butter
2 cups buttermilk OR 2 T cider vinegar added to milk to make 2 cups

Blend (don't beat) until everything is wet and well blended. Some small lumps are okay.

Cook in a waffle iron (brushed with butter or sprayed with Pam) for 3 minutes or until it stops steaming.

Serve with any (or all) of the following:
Berries, whipped cream, powdered sugar, preserves, honey, butter and Maple Syrup.
Oh, and I dare not forget the coffee and some nice, crispy bacon.

Any leftover waffles can be put in the freezer and later popped into the toaster to be enjoyed on those mornings when you find you don't have time to cook.

Snowy Days are for the Birds!

Meet Monsieur Starling, imported to America from Europe, I believe.

He was happy to pose for me yesterday as I waited in the car for Bill to run into Walmart. I sat there, camera ready, hoping for sparrows. Not being a shy guy, Mr. Starling decided to let me photograph him first. It's easy to understand why he's so proud, what with those colorful feathers gleeming in the sunlight, and markings like reversed ermine, fit for a king.

Bill and I were on the hunt for empty bird's nests, which I will be using in a notecard series, available later this week. We got some beautiful material.

The photo above was taken by my husband.

He had to climb a mountain of snow which had been piled around this little parking lot tree. I watched as he teetered precariously on the dirty wet stuff to get this photograph just for me.

I wanted to get as many nests as possible from the inside...that is until we found this one.

It was close to the road, so we pulled into a loading dock area for easy acceess, which turned out not to be easy at all, thanks to a 10 foot wall. But my husband trapsed up a hill and down the street to get this image. He came back triumphant, the hunter with his game.

Upon closer inspection, however, we realized that this nest appears to be full of bones. We tried to convince ourselves that that was just leaves and debris frosted frosted in snow, but no. When I enlarged the picture on my computer this morning, it does look like a cluster of dry white bones.

Needless to say, this particular nest won't be going in my Empty Nest Cards. I know it looks cool, but we empty nesters need happy images of empty nests. Images that remind us that empty nests are truely a thing of beauty, full of opportunities for the future.

Did you know that birds often reuse their nests?

Sometimes twice in a season. And they may come back again, year after year. Little birdie mommies and daddys passing their home along to their offspring. And so it may go until the nest wears out. (That is why I don't collect nests, save for the one that comes out of a little shoe box to adorn my Christmas tree every year.) 

So, the empty nest is not a thing to be mourned, but is actually the harbinger of a happy future. A future which may even include grandchildren. Grandchildren who go home after the spoiling is done one day, and return another day for more of the same.

Unfinished knitting, mayhaps?

One more nest to share before I go, my friend. I especially loved this sturdy little nest. This couple found a bit of string to use in their home, but I have a second theory. The knitting was abandoned when the eggs hatched a little earlier than expected.

Well, that's it, folks. Yesterday's adventure. The best thing about it wasn't the lovely photos of bird's nests. It was the fun time Bill and I had together, just driving around, looking for them.

Have a good day. And keep your eyes open. Remember, you pass by things every day that are sitting there, waiting for someone to notice them. 

Delight in life's little details. It's good for the spirit.