Category: Inspirational

Now I’ve gone and done it…

I call them BB Bombs!

Ladies and Gentlemen, though they may not look too glamorous, let me assure you, these little Diamonds in the rough fully live up to their name…

God Bless you Ninja Foodi! You can see it, right behind me, on the counter…

They are THE Bomb! All you need is a can of premade biscuit dough, and your favorite filling…

Can of biscuits, my eye! Heavenly premade dough, pillowy soft and fluffy… I dropped a chunk of butter and a spoon of brown sugar, into the center of each biscuit. Then I just sealed it in, like a pocket. Here is where my Ninja brought home a win… I baked them for about 12 – 15 minutes, on the bake / roast setting…

BB Bombs (Brown Sugar + Butter = Bomb)! Bon Appetite!

They tasted like an ooey gooey donut!

If you wish, you can simply switch out the filling for anything you wish, but the name would have to match… like Apple Bomb, or Peach Bomb, or for the savory side, make some Mozzarella Bombs. Now you see where this could go…

Your Welcome…

P.S. My other favorites are Cherry, Apple, and PB & J Bombs.

No judging allowed, it’s all about the RV life baby!

Just a Bag Part 5

Oh dear… this is not at all what I had been expecting, if truth be told!  While I dreamt of the scene we would be encountering, I had not anticipated things to look so different, once we arrived.  This is an absolute mess!  The cart has been smashed, along with the crate that has been resting at the back.  Whatever was inside the crate has either been crushed or strewn about the area.  What a waste…

Chris, would you be kind enough to collect the note lying near the cart, yes, there underneath that broken fruit basket…  Thank you, you are looking cheerful this morning, by the way.  You always seem to be smiling at people; ready and willing to jump in and lend a hand.  Though you do not say anything with words, I often know what you are thinking.  When I look into your eyes, there is an ocean of gentleness.  Always eager to love and give of yourself, sometimes sacrificing a bit too much… leaving you unable to speak.

 The strange thing is though, I have heard you singing when you thought you were alone on the path.  I heard you singing softly to yourself just the other day, in fact, and it was the sweetest sound.  Once others approached you, however, only silence and a bright smile greeted them.  I think you are with us for a special purpose, perhaps to locate where you voice went, perhaps not… we shall see. 

According to the note, the cart had been bound for a small village, further to the west.  Due to an unforeseen injury, the carts’ owner had to be rushed to the village for immediate medical attention…. (murmering) … oh bother…

Here!  It would simply be easier to show you the note, instead of reading it out loud…

To Whomever finds this note,

I must leave this message in hopes that it finds its way into the hands of an honest soul.  I was en route to deliver these supplies, when my cart hit a rock on the path, splitting the back wheel of my cart.  From there, things went from bad to worse.  When the wheel snapped, it startled Noclue, my pony, sending him running off down the trail.

With a shot, he was off… pulling the reins along with him, as he went.  This sudden bolt yanked me from the cart, before I had the good sense to let go of the reins, and landed me in the dirt.  I lay there for some time, unable to move, until a passerby took pity on me, loading me onto their cart and transporting me on to the village, where there is a physician for mending my injuries. 

Unfortunately, there was not enough room for the crate of supplies, so it had to be left behind.  It is of the utmost importance that these supplies be delivered here for the villagers, as they are rebuilding everything, after a devastating attack by bandits.  The crops were burnt, homes were crushed, and the larders were pillaged by the attacking horde.

I beseech you, whoever you may be, make haste with these life saving supplies. If you would gather the crate, and deliver it just down the trail here to the village, I will happily reward you for your efforts.  I do not have much gold, but I will give you all that I have, if only you would lend your aid.  This simply must be done, in order that healing can begin within this valley.

Sincerely,

Abbot Belfrey

P.S.  You may have also noticed the basket of costumes within the crate… ummm… I forgot to mention, the villagers are terrified of outsiders, and with good reason.  The only way one can enter, is by donning a costume and carrying on as if one belongs at a party, a traveling party… with a cart… a bright, colorful, and fun looking cart.  The villagers, you see, are Otterfolk!  Yes, this old man has compassion for all the living creatures of this valley. These folk love anything musical and/or funny… by gollie, it does the trick every time.  I have faith in you… I know you can do it… Good Luck!

So, while you were reading the note, I took it upon myself to look around at some of the things strewn about on the ground, around the cart and near the broken crate.  There is not a lot to go on, so we are going to have to brainstorm as to what a village of otters might need. Thank goodness we all have our bags, because I have a feeling they will be needed to fill this order.

And any suggestions regarding who wants to do what, in our little ensemble would be greatly appreciated.  I for one vote Chris to lead the singing part, so as to keep our musical performance on key.  Use your bag to touch base with me on the lyrics, and assigning places. Oh, Crocket, do you think you could repair the wheel of the cart?  You should find any tools needed, again, within your bag. Liz, I was also hoping that you and Willow, could both work on stitching together a new colorful canopy, for the top of the cart?

What else might I be overlooking before we set about getting everyone put together for this, ummm, Troupe? My guess is that we have fun, but also be respectful to these small ones… I know they will be short and playful, but other than that, I don’t have a clue how we should do this…

The Nuptials, that is…

I can’t tell you how happy I was the other day, when I actually ran into Lady Cordelia herself, out on the path.  Truthfully, I was taken aback that she would approach me and hold out her hand for a peanut! 

I stood there for a moment, sort of frozen, letting my brain fully register that the Lady was full on serious!  She noticed my surprise and waited patiently for me to catch up.  I realized that we were standing there awkwardly staring at each other, and immediately knelt down and handed her a peanut from my pocket. 

As Cordelia peeled the shell open, we chatted for several moments.  Guess What?  The wedding is back on!  No wonder she is in a good mood… now that I think about it, I did see quite a few squirrel folk out on the path, smiling and chittering away happily amongst themselves.   I am glad to inform you, as well, that all of the garbage has been hauled away.  The city workers spent days clearing away discarded trash and debris, once again leaving the valley bright and clean.

It seems that the delay turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as a better wedding venue opened up closer to the river, and Lady Cordelia walked me down to appreciate the view.  I got a royal tour…

I was given a walk through of the ceremony site…

Then taken on a tour of the bride and grooms’ new estate, that is still currently under renovation’s…

And finally, we sat for a few minutes in the banquet meadow, where all the festivities will be…

So, here is the scoop!  The ceremony will be two weeks from now, performed by the well-loved old Abbot, Walter Nutzly, formerly addressed as Father WalNut!  Once vows are exchanged, and the abbot gives his blessing speech, the festivities begin!  I am so excited! Wanting to contribute to the celebrations, I dumped out my pockets and offered all the peanuts I was carrying. Her Ladyship graciously accepted my gifts, and was then off in a flash to distribute the supplies to the coffers.

And!!! You are never gonna guess who the prince is…

None other than THEE Rico Pistachio, apparently his full title is Lord Rico Pistachio of House ACORN!  That story is a bombshell in and of itself, so I will come back to this on another occasion, but let’s just say, this is a love story that will need a great amount more time and study than I feel equipped for, at this time. 

Like a blood hound, I am on the scent of the truth behind these two young hearts.  I will not let you down…

Field of Bones…

My mother’s squeals of dismay could be heard all the way out to the back yard where my brother and I were building an underground fort (story for a different time).  We dropped our shovels and made for where the sounds erupted, the living room.  As we ran into the house, we were met with a scene reminiscent of an unearthed graveyard, in rodent form…

Let me back up a bit, as I am sure you are confused by the scene about to unfold.  One must always provide context, so as not to panic the masses.  I want to take you back some months prior to the event (approximately 3), to early spring in our part of Eastern Oregon (still a bit chilly).    We had suffered a long Saturday of errands, with the grown ups barely noticing what us kids were doing while they shopped.  This sort of serves them right, if you’re asking…

Amidst their distraction, while at the local farm supply store, my brother and I took it upon ourselves to liberate the entire supply of baby pinky mice from the tanks in the back. 

All we had to do, was tear open the back of our pockets, inside our fluffy coats.  We quickly grabbed handfuls of baby mice of differing ages, not caring about anything but escape.  We felt like hero’s…  climbing obediently into the back of the station wagon, with the picture of innocence on our faces, being careful not to lean back to hard in our seats.  We didn’t have to worry about seatbelts back then, our parents figured we could hold on.

Success was our middle name, so of course, we simply kept all the babies in our coats.  Then we pilfered food out of the pantry, to shove in our pockets. It took effort to zip our pockets back up before the little beans escaped.  This worked for the whole night, so when Sunday arrived, we headed off to church wearing the very coats from the day before.  That was, in honesty, the only time that I ever really had a good time on a Sunday morning, as far as my childhood went.  My brother and I both sat in silence, sharing conspiratorial glances, as we spent a full two hours with our hands in our coat pockets.

We actually kept those mice, undetected, inside our coats for at least a week, before it started to smell bad.  It was at this point that we decided, my brother and I, to release the little angels underneath our beds… surely, they would find there way to freedom from there, right…

From there it was out of sight, out of mind, on our part…

Well, the day of the scream was the day of reckoning, we thought…  But we were somehow miraculously spared of any blame, as my mother was so upset that her precious couch had been invaded by vermin, she never once looked closely enough at all of the skeletal remains, to see that they were all babies… when I look back, I realize that if the grown ups never noticed the coats smelling like a dirty outhouse for a week, they would never even notice the guilty looks of horror on our small faces…

So, again I say, it serves em right!

** I would like to take this time to assure you, no mice were harmed during the reenactment of this memory, and we cannot be held liable for accidental death and dismemberment that may or may not have occurred during our tiny years. **

Cheese anyone…