Trampoline

Things just got a whole lot bouncier around here!

Tortillas!

My maternal grandfather's side of the family is from Chihuahua, Mexico. As a girl, my mom learned to cook some Mexican dishes from her grandmother. My mom was her grandmother Ysabel's favorite grandchild (she thinks because she looked like her). Whatever the reason, we in my family have been the beneficiaries. Two things my mom remembers from cooking with her grandmother are that she didn't measure ingredients and that her grandfather wouldn't eat the tortillas my mom rolled out because they weren't round like her grandmother's.

Several times since I married and left home, I've tried to make flour tortillas like my mom's. So far, all I've been able to produce is something that resembles an oddly shaped frisbee in both texture and taste. Blah!

Last night I was determined to do it right. I was careful not to accidentally use baking soda instead of baking powder and I made sure there was enough flour but not too much. I was patient and let the dough rest long enough before rolling it out and, lo and behold, delicious homemade tortillas!! And I think there were even one or two in there my great grandfather might have eaten.

A Mexican feast complete with refried beans and rice, all from scratch. Delicioso!

Newborns

This is a picture of me (Amanda) as a newborn. Do you see the resemblance? (You had better not say it's the facial hair).

It's the only newborn photo I have of myself. My parents are not big on photographs. Well, they did take an awful lot of my brother four years older than I, but I can't complain because I think that number dropped significantly with the birth of each additional child (there are about 10 photos total of my youngest brother, one of which was of him looking pale after a hospital stay around age 2 and another is of his face all smashed up after a bike accident at age 11 or so).

Because I worked in the Newborn ICU after graduating from Nursing school, I gained an appreciation for that new babyness that only lasts for about a week or two. How I love that age! After that, babies start to plump up and look different. No less beautiful and lovable, just...well...different. They lose that brand newness.

So, I was a little sad that the only newborn photo I had of myself had been decorated charmingly by my younger brother, Taylor. But, that's life.

This morning I was putting some papers away and came across this photo again. It made me laugh. I don't know why. I guess it just reminded me how important people, especially family, are in our lives. I could care less that I have a purple mustache and beard, but I'll always be glad I have a brother and memories to laugh about.