Doxie Proxy

PaPaw

My grandfather passed away in November of 2007, a few days before Thanksgiving.

I miss him very much. He was a loud, loving man, and a caring grandparent. I never knew him to drive anything other than a big truck, and my favorite memories are of us heading down to the local corner store (Hankins). He was most likely there to get gas, or cigarettes, but I always felt like it was a trip especially for me.

He was tall, and when he reached over me to pull open the door to the store, it was like passing under the wing of a giant bird. Mr. or Mrs. Hankins was always at the counter, giving a quick smile, nod, and “How’re ya doing, C?” to PaPaw, and would wink at me conspiratorially. I felt a little like royalty, as if the entire world revolved around me. When I was with PaPaw, it did.

He’d pull his wallet from the back pocket of his starched-to-high-heaven jeans, and gesture toward the rows of brightly colored candies and gums, stacked neatly beneath the counter. Whenever I couldn’t make up my mind, PaPaw just nodded and opened his hand. I’d poke my lip out and drop one of my sweets into his palm, and he’d sigh, grin, and tell me to just “gem ‘em both.” Into a tiny brown paper bag they’d go, and I had to hold on to that bag all the way back to the house. I had a habit of tearing into my goodies before we got back, you see. Sometimes I’d try to sneak one little hand into the bag, and that tell-tale crinkling sound would give me away. My grandfather’s big paw would gently close over my hands and the bag, and he’d grin and shake his head, without ever taking his eyes off of the road.

I loved riding in the truck with him, holding my bagged treasure.  It was like flying, because I was so high up in the air. He’d roll the window down, and I’d stick one hand up on the door, with that wonderful Mississippi breeze ruffling my ridiculously curly hair. It seemed like we were moseying, and I knew every curve, every inch of that winding road that would take us back home. The sun always seemed gentle, and the warmth was like being hugged by Jesus.

I miss you, PaPaw.  What I wouldn’t give for more ride.

At work, my favorite picture of him sits to my right. He’s sitting in a big, comfy chair with his legs stretched out, wearing his usual plaid shirt, starched jeans, and cowboy boots (and his ever-present suspenders). I’d been bugging him to smile for the camera, when he turned and gave me this wide-eyed goofy grin.  Next to his picture is his funeral announcement, with Brother Bobby Joe, Brother Gene and Brother Gerald as officiants. The sheer Southern-ness of that makes me smile.  PaPaw was gruff, but loving, and loud, but gentle. When he laughed, it was with his whole heart, and losing him makes the world feel a little…less.

Saturday Love

Yesterday was everything a weekend day should be. Well, mostly.

I was up at 7AM because someone who shall remain nameless decided that they needed walkies (blame Katie MacAlister for that term, because it’s inexorably stuck in my head).

I watched several episodes of Charmed (I <3 my DVR), and set out to try my hand at making CakePops. Bakerella makes it look ridiculously easy, and her creations are pure beauty. She got the recipe several years ago from someone at a Christmas party, but came up with the great idea to make them Cake-Pops, instead of Cake-Balls, and again, ridiculously cute! The woman is seriously talented, and bless her heart for sharing her wonderful creations with peons like me. (snicker) Seriously, if you’ve not visited Bakerella.com, run (or click quickly) and browse to your heart’s content. Check out her Flickr photos, too. Fantastic!

Imagine my surprise when I was setting up my mise en place, only to discover that I had not a single cake pan in my kitchen. Time for a quick trip to World Market, where I picked up a couple of respectable looking cake pans. Why I paid more for the nifty heat-resistant handles is beyond me, because I’m not going to reach in and grab the sides of the pans, at any rate. I get this happy, squiggly feeling in that store, because of all the nifty things they sell. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

One cake turned out fine, and one turned out about the size of a thick pancake. Well, a very, very thick pancake, but still. Too thin. Thankfully, the cake layers were not destined to be stacked and eventually belittled, so I didn’t fret all that much.

After crumbling the cakes and mixing the crumbs with cream cheese frosting, I felt my first inkling of doubt. It looked…odd. I’d read somewhere in the comments of another site that one lady had trouble with the CakePops coming out gooey instead of ‘cakey’. Yeah, I had a bad feeling.

Next few steps:

All in all, they did turn out better than I thought. A little gooey-er than I thought, but after a few hours in the freezer, they were cute and even better - delicious. (Edited to add: They actually didn’t turn out gooey at all. They were lovely and cakey, and my friends and coworkers raved!) I’ve learned that I despise almond bark with the fire of a thousand hells, and these are definitely not something you just whip up in a matter of minutes (or an hour). But - with a lot of patience on my part, and a lot of great info from Bakerella and all of the other lovely ladies who’ve made these - I can actually create something edible!

(The formatting of this post is terrible.)

Dog’s-Eye View

My sweet Abigail. She sprawls, and I fall in love all over again. She’s doing about the same, mayhap a little better. It took me forever to get this photo, because she kept wanting to get up and come to me. I finally lay on the carpet with my camera, directly in front of her. She calmed down a bit, and finally nodded off. Inch by inch, I moved the camera into position, thinking I was oh-so-surrepticious. At the last second, her eyes popped open, and I snapped the pic. I just love it. Love!

Wordless

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