December's Man Blog

Our new Thanksgiving tradition of racing to eat a fruit roll-up without using our hands

The last but hopefully not the least Man Blog of 2024! Another year is winding down, and I just got used to writing 2024 on my checks a month ago. If anyone in my graduating class felt like putting together a reunion this year, it would be twenty-six. Tina made me go to the twenty-year reunion. All those folks got old. Sometimes, I must step back and realize I have seen my share of seasons. I don't think like an old person. Some rude individuals may even say that my maturity stopped at age twelve. However, what I find humorous aligns with that of a twelve-year-old. I think farts are funny. I think accidental farts are even funnier. I laugh out loud just thinking the word shart. My best social media experience ever was our embarrassing fart contest. I will giggle randomly every single time I think of the time Upper Management was caught in the nude by HVAC Dave. Also, videos of guys getting hit in the "testicles" (because Upper Management doesn't allow me to use other, funnier terms) are always amusing.

This year's Christmas gift list from The Bean did make me feel old. It was a document zapped to everyone's smart device with links to desired items. Not just, here are the shoes I want. No, it was; here is the size, color, and lace color I want specifically. I do not think the list tells group members what has been purchased by other purchasers. I could only imagine the logic is that one of those tech-crippled old people will hit the wrong button and claim to have bought everything, which would lead to the rest of the herd going rogue, purchasing what they think would make appropriate gifts. I know everyone says it is the thought that counts. Not having to deal with returns is what counts. I am terrible at gift buying. I have been responsible for more gift returns than a Chinese recall. I wish I could match random items to people who would enjoy them. Tina and I complement each other well. She has the gift of knowing what the people she is close to would enjoy. Grambarb would get a cushioned toilet set every year if it wasn't for her.

I feel old missing the days of THE Sears catalog. I miss the magic marker that was saved just for the catalog. The marker has since been banned in 47 countries due to its toxic ingredients. The marker had to be scrubbed off with kerosene but never actually came off. It just smudged. I miss waiting for the mail to come for the excitement of being the first to get my hands on the catalog. Since my siblings were older, they were in high school when I was in grade school. Two important facts: their bus brought them home before me, and they would get the catalog before me if it came during the week. If you live in the middle of nowhere and there is a chance you will get snowed in, get more than a month's worth of birth control. Until now, I have always joked about the snowstorm of '79 causing my birth in October 1980, nine years after my sister's. I Googled it. Google makes me feel old and amazed that almost every answer to a question is at my fingertips. At the same time, I was young because I knew I shouldn't look into it, but I did.

Anyhow, Saturday was my day to care about getting the mail. Saturday was my day. I looked at every car that wasn't the milk truck going up our road. I was on mail duty like it was national security. Then, I would eventually get my hands on that giant glossy printed masterpiece by hook or by crook. I could circle THE BEST ideas ever and write little notes beside them. It upped the chances, but Santa wouldn't live at Sears waiting on another truck if they sold out. The Christmas magic of that feeling of maybe you will get what you asked for, and then again, perhaps not, is gone. Some of the best things in my life weren't what I wanted in the first place, but ended up better in the end.

Trying to share with The Bean what my generation thought was great makes me feel old. We went to see the new Beetlejuice movie. She sat through it like a trouper. It was bad. Not wanting to throw away the popcorn or risk spilling it in the car was the main reason I stayed to finish the movie. I had to explain that times were different then. We were entertained more easily. I started to rewatch the original but stopped. I wanted to remember it as good. Now, I wonder if it was. We watched the Mike Tyson fight. I felt like I had to warn her. Mike Tyson is more than likely going to knock this kid's head clear off. She doesn't understand who Mike Tyson is. A year from now, everyone will be talking about Iron Mike having one last hurrah and mopping the floor with the guy with two first names. Mike has seen some thunder himself. I felt more like giving him a hug than watching him fight. I felt old thinking, what kind of punk feels good about himself boxing a damn near sixty-year-old man.

I tried to explain the excitement of the Sears catalog. The fact that afterward, if you happened to get a .22 for Christmas, you could see how many pages the bullet could penetrate. The concept of having to wait without a countdown does not register. We primitives gauged the arrival of the Sears catalog by season, not the exact second we would get that catalog. The Christmas Story explains saving box tops better than I ever could—poor Ralphie, drinking Ovaltine to get a decoder ring. I still hate Cheerios thirty-plus years later, thanks to their Nerf Boomerang for the box top idea. Try not to sound like you grew up at the tail end of leaded gas, explaining that eating more grain than a draft horse to get a two-dollar Nerf boomerang in the mail was a great idea. Then try to explain 4-6 weeks shipping. Yes, there was a life without up-to-the-minute tracking on next-day deliveries. It is like me trying to understand steam engine maintenance to travel.

It has been a great 2024. It is another year that technically makes us older, but we are more on guard to stay young at heart. If you occasionally find yourself tapping your left toe to turn down your high beams while calling the opposing driver a buttface for leaving theirs on high, I am there with you. If you have the time, comment on what you miss that makes you feel old, and what you do that makes you feel young. We are all in it together and might as well have a good time. After all, you won't find better company than our soap family!

I wanted to share some of my favorite blogs, that Tina has written. (I am very proud of what she does.) As well as links to our bios. I didn't want to end 2024 with anyone missing out. Until next year, stay safe and wash on!

Tina In The Nude

https://www.thesmilingoatsoapcompany.com/post/full-frontal-assault

Chubby Dog's Great Adventure

https://www.thesmilingoatsoapcompany.com/post/sometimes-the-blog-just-writes-itself

Tina AKA Upper Mangement

https://www.thesmilingoatsoapcompany.com/tina

Eric AKA Me

https://www.thesmilingoatsoapcompany.com/eric

Jordan AKA The Bean

https://www.thesmilingoatsoapcompany.com/jordan-grace

Foodie Friday: Church Window Cookies

Well, dear reader, happy Black Friday. I hope your Thanksgiving was filled with love, laughter, family, friends, and good food. On this Friday after Thanksgiving, it almost pains me to write about food. By the time the day was done yesterday, I could not stand the smell of turkey. I didn't even eat dessert, dear reader. That is how overfilled I was after our meal. I made it a point to ask everyone what part of the meal they were most excited to eat. Not surprisingly, everyone had a different answer. I, however, am the only one who looks forward to the cranberry sauce and declares the cranberry sauce my favorite part of the meal. Each year, I make a double batch of cranberry sauce and eat it on everything from leftover turkey sandwiches to leftover dinner rolls. The poor cranberry sauce is underappreciated and overlooked.

From now until Christmas, I plan to share a Christmas cookie recipe with you. Some recipes have been in my family for years, while others are new or have been adopted into our holiday cookie repertoire. Although individuals come in and out of our lives, their impact and influence help us to grow, affect our perception of the world around us, and often expand our palate. Childhood friends, former boyfriends, college friends, and friends made at various jobs impacted my cooking style, introduced me to new creative ideas, and helped me become a more adventurous eater. My elementary and high school best friend introduced me to Italian peach wedding cookies. My Grandma Tillie always made jam-filled thumbprint cookies. My Grandma Haney made soft molasses cookies each Christmas, which were my favorite. Grambarb introduced me to peanut butter balls, which are at the top of The Bibbed Wonder's favorite cookie list. A former boyfriend's mother shared an easy, no-bake church window cookie recipe. When I make or eat each of these cookies, I am constantly reminded of the people who introduced me to the recipe.

My first real boyfriend's family became my second family in high school. I absolutely adored his mother. Jackie was from England, and I loved everything about this woman. From the way she spoke with her "charming" accent to her sense of humor and fiery temperament. Jackie was kind, fun to be with, and welcoming. I still remember being at her house during the holidays and helping her make what she called church window cookies. This easy, no-bake recipe was new to me, and because it included colorful marshmallows, it became one of my favorites.

It's been thirty years since Jackie has been part of my life, but to this day, I remember those cookies, the day we made them in her kitchen and the warmth of our relationship. I remember her with fondness. It has taken me thirty years to find a recipe close to the one she used when making these colorful, delightful cookies. This year will be the first time I will enjoy them again in more than thirty years.

Church Window Cookies

• ½ cup butter

• 2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

• 1 (10-ounce) package rainbow colored miniature marshmallows

• 2 cups sweetened flaked coconut

• parchment paper

  
  

Place butter in a 2 ½ quart glass or metal bowl. Place the bowl over a 3-quart saucepan of gently boiling water (the upper bowl should not touch the water). Cook over the simmering water until the butter is melted.

Add chocolate chips; stir until melted, then remove from heat. Let cool for 10 minutes at room temperature, stirring occasionally. 

Add marshmallows to melted chocolate; gently stir to coat.

Place two 15x18-inch pieces of parchment paper on the work surface. In the middle of each piece of parchment, place half of the chocolate marshmallow mixture and shape it into a 12-inch-long log using a rubber spatula.

Wrap logs tightly in the parchment and transfer them to the refrigerator; chill logs for 30 minutes.

Place two new 15x18-inch pieces of parchment paper on a work surface and sprinkle each with 1 cup of flaked coconut. Carefully transfer chilled logs (they will still be soft) to the new pieces of parchment with coconut.

Roll logs in coconut and gently press to cover the outside and sides fully.

Wrap coated logs tightly in the new parchment paper and chill until firm, at least 4 hours up to overnight.

When well chilled, cut into 1/2-inch thick slices.

Store in the refrigerator or freeze until ready to use.

On this snowy Black Friday, welcome the official start to the holiday season. Enjoy shopping if that is your thing, and take advantage of the great deals on our website. (Why go out in the cold when you can have fantastic soap shipped right to your door?) It's cookie-making time, so keep washing your hands.

Good People Raise The Best Turkey

Of course, I am in the middle of a deep belly laugh when I am with Jill. Of course, The Bibbed Wonder took the worst picture possible. Sigh...

The Bibbed Wonder and I went on a short trip to Greensburg to visit our friends Mike and Jill Little of Chaganra Farms. Although I would like to say it was a social visit, it was business—the business of picking up our Thanksgiving turkey. Mike and Jill have an interesting story. Mike was a civil engineer. After years at a high-stress job, his body told him enough was enough. Mike experienced symptoms similar to a heart attack. After seeking medical treatment, his doctor told him it was stress-related and that he would need to curb the stress in his life. Mike returned to work only to experience similar, frightening symptoms in a short amount of time. Rather than wait until he suffered an actual heart attack, he chose to leave his high-stress job and begin farming.

Although farming produces its own challenges, there is satisfaction in working for oneself, with animals, and with the land. Truth be told, The Bibbed Wonder, and I prefer working with our herd of goats over working with most humans. We understand why Mike came to this decision. As we drove along the road that borders their farm, we saw a lovely herd of beef cattle, a waddle of heritage large black hogs, and some of the biggest turkeys I have ever seen. I informed The Bibbed Wonder that I believe I need a pet turkey or two to add to my poultry family. Of course, he said no. Sigh. He always says no. He reminded me I could not mix turkeys with chickens because of blackhead disease. Sigh, he has a valid point this time. However, it did not curb my desire for a massive pet turkey of my very own. Someday...

Anyhow, I digress. Jill met us in the garage when we pulled into Little's driveway. She had two large tables lined up with fresh turkeys. Everything was clean, tidy, and neatly labeled with the purchaser's name, weight, and cost. It was all very efficient and professional. Do you know how sometimes you meet someone and just click? That is how I feel about Jill. It doesn't matter that I only see her once or twice a year; when we see each other, it is like meeting an old friend. Jill always makes us laugh, has the most entertaining stories about her family, farm, and job, and she has the most infectious laugh. After spending just a short time with her, I always tell Eric I think I would enjoy spending time with Jill.

This year, we ordered a smaller turkey. We asked for a fifteen-pound turkey, and the Littles could accommodate us. Just like cooking a fresh, free-range, small farm-raised chicken, there is simply no comparison to what one purchases frozen from the grocery store. Our turkeys from the Littles are always juicy, tender, and flavorful. I cannot recommend their farm strongly enough. You are missing out if you have never experienced poultry raised on a small farm, as all poultry should be raised. Seeing the turkeys roaming in the open field, foraging on bugs, grass, pumpkins, and whatever else they could find was lovely. I never realized just how majestic and impressive a turkey is.

Yes, a fresh, farm-raised turkey is a bit more expensive, but it is worth it, and the cost difference was not excessive. I can cook my Thanksgiving turkey knowing it lived a good life, was well cared for, and experienced the life it was meant to live. To me, that is invaluable. I know how and what it was fed and treated and that the end of its little life was humane and quick. Those are all things that are important to me. Not to mention, the quality and flavor is impeccable.

Although it is too late to order a Thanksgiving turkey from Chaganra this year, I gently encourage you to keep them in mind for next year. If you are not local to Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, a quick web search should give you fresh, free-range, small-farm options wherever you live. Trust me, it is worth it. You will have an opportunity to meet your farmers, who are usually wonderful people, see where and how your holiday meal was raised, and support a small family farm. Those are all great reasons to search for a farm-fresh turkey.

Chaganra Farms Website

On this Wednesday before Turkey Day, stay safe, be smart, and enjoy your holiday; know when we say grace at our dinner table, we will count you as one of our blessings, and keep washing your hands.