Find Me Here

Buy My Book!

Street Address
City, State, Zip Code

Subscribe to Blog!

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Designed By:

Munchkin Land Designs Elements by Flergs


Monthly Archives: July 2013

Raspberry Swirl Pound Cake

Raspberry Swirl Pound Cake

Meal type Dessert
Misc Child Friendly, Freezable, Gourmet


I had this YUM cake at bunco one night and had to grab the recipe.  Thank you, Paula Deen 🙂


Step 1
3 1/4 cups sugar, divided
1 cup fresh raspberries
3 tablespoons peach nectar
1 1/2 cups butter, softened
1 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
5 large eggs
1 large egg yolk
3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
Peach-Almond Glaze
2 tablespoons sliced almonds
Sweetened whipped cream
Fresh raspberries
Step 2
1.In a small saucepan, combine 1/4 cup sugar, raspberries, and peach nectar. Bring mixture to a simmer over medium heat. Cook, stirring often and crushing berries as they cook, for 10 minutes or until mixture has thickened. Strain berry mixture through a wire-mesh sieve into a small bowl, pressing pulp with the back of a spoon. Discard solids. Cover and chill for at least 6 hours, or refrigerate up to 3 days.
2.Preheat oven to 325°. Spray a 12- to 15-cup Bundt pan with nonstick baking spray with flour.
3.In a large bowl, beat butter and sour cream at medium speed with a mixer until combined. Gradually add remaining 3 cups sugar, beating until fluffy. Add lemon zest and vanilla, beating until combined. Add eggs and egg yolk, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
4.In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Gradually add to butter mixture, beating until combined.
5.Spoon 3 cups batter into prepared pan. Using the back of a spoon, make a shallow trench in the middle of batter while turning the pan in a full circle. Spoon 3 tablespoons raspberry mixture into trench. Spoon 1 1/2 cups batter into pan, spreading carefully to cover raspberry mixture. Repeat trench procedure, and top with remaining raspberry mixture and batter. Run a knife through the batter 8 times to swirl the filling slightly. Gently tap pan on counter to release any trapped air bubbles.
6.Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in cake comes out clean. Tent cake with aluminum foil halfway through baking time to prevent excessive browning, if necessary. Let cake cool in pan for 10 minutes. Remove from pan, and let cool completely on a wire rack. Drizzle with Peach-Almond Glaze, and sprinkle with sliced almonds. Serve with whipped cream and raspberries, if desired.

Makes 1 (10-inch) cake

Note: If your cake doesn’t sit flat on the platter because the non-fluted side is slightly domed, trim it with a long serrated knife. Keep the blade level as you gently saw off the domed portion of the cake

Letting go of Amanda

blog pics

I told myself that I could read Amanda’s funeral program when I got home. Then I would be away from the family, her friends and those pictures – a giant drop down screen displaying photo after photo of the last 33 years of her life.
Amanda died on Tuesday, July 23.
I hate blubbering in front of people; it always starts a snotty, mascara mess that takes me hours to recoup from – almost like stabbing a bottle of molasses, it just oozes for hours, creates puffy eyes and assorted random snorts; making my day generally sticky.
I try to avoid crying at all costs.
In order to do this, instead of listening to the family’s last memories of Amanda’s life, I studied the stained glass windows, pushed back my cuticles or studied the wood beams that hung above my head. I flipped over the program so I wouldn’t have to look at Amanda’s picture – her steel grey eyes, neatly combed hair, the blue grey sweater she had chosen that very morning to wear as she had her portrait taken. I tried to avoid it all. Turning over the back of the program, I found more grief: words from her personal journal. I tucked the journal neatly into my purse. Ugh.
I can’t take this, I shoulda stayed in the kitchen to help with the sandwiches.
I was doing a half decent job of tuning the whole thing out until her cousin stepped up; maybe it was her sister, I’m not sure.
I glanced up to see this girl with wild curly hair that ran past her shoulders and down her back, her hands shaking; she kept shifting her feet side to side.
“The last time Amanda and I spoke we had a disagreement. I did something that she did not approve of and she had her accident before we could make amends.”
I once again tried to tune out the voices, I didn’t want to hear about her grief.
When something like this happens, it makes me want to run out and make peace with any and everyone that I’m not right with… The mailman I snipped at earlier in the week for yelling at my dog, the sales clerk who overcharged me and insisted that she didn’t and then there’s that one person who has hurt you…..
And I mean hurt you to the bone. The one who carelessly stabbed an ice pick into your heart and twisted it a time or two – just for fun. Yea,that person…
And then I started thinking (as the girl started convulsing into hysterical sobs), if I forgive someone, is it truly necessary that I tell them? What if they don’t care that they have hurt you? What if they twist it and turn the entire situation around and say horrible nasty things? What then? More grief for me, that’s what.
I, personally, am tired of grief.
I bit down on the sides of my cheeks trying to hold it all in as I watched Amanda’s mother, Diana, stand up. She began speaking; sending out love and thanks for everyone that pulled together during the last 7 1/2 months.
I felt like an anvil had just been dropped on my chest.
I considered going over to the person who has broken my own heart to say: “Do you realize what I just witnessed? Do you understand how precious life is? We could all be gone tomorrow and this is the last memory I will have of you? Sadness?  Hurt? All the mean spirited things you said? Do you not realize this is how I will forever remember our relationship?”
Ugg. Too much grief.
I drag myself from the pew and watch as the family members walk out; single file. Each person is still crying… Crying for relationships lost, Christmases that would never be celebrated, gifts never opened. Thanksgiving will come and go but a very noticeable hole will always be at the dinner table. There will be wonderful memories that were never made, words that were never said and forgiveness for words that should never have been said in the first place.
I did not go over to my heart breakers home as I could not bare for them to say one more hurtful thing to me. Whether it was the right or wrong thing to do, I’m not sure. This morning, as I get ready for church, I finally pull out Amanda’s program.

From Amanda’s journal….
Live with intention.
Walk to the edge.
Listen hard.
Practice wellness.
Play with abandon.
Choose with no regret.
Continue to learn.
Appreciate your friends.
Do what you love.

– Mary Anne Radmacher


My Calling as a Waffle House Waitress

My 13 yr. old is very upset with me. Apparently, I am “mean to her friends” and I “embarrass her.” Friday night I let her friend Stacey come over to spend the night. From the start, I could tell Stacey was not satisfied with my “food selection.” For instance:
ME: girls, I have homemade spaghetti for dinner or we could call in a pizza. Which one would you like?
STACEY: ummmmmm. Hmmmm. I’ m kinda sick of pizza. Could we make a homemade cheesecake?
ME: Ummmmm. We don’t have all the necessary items to do that and ….
Stacey: Oh well, we’ll just go to the store.
ME: We will? We as in ME?! Babe, it’s 9:20 on a Friday night, if we went to the store right now, we wouldn’t be back till 10:00 before we ever got started. Then after mixing it all together and then baking it, we wouldn’t even be finished until 11:30 or even midnight. We would be extremely tired.
STACEY: So we can’t make a cheesecake?
ME: Errr ummm… No cheesecake.
When nothing I offered Stacy seemed up to par, I gave up and sliced apples. This seemed to please her… Until she got thirsty.
ME: Stacey, we have milk and water. I have to go to the store tomorrow so right now that’s all I have to offer.
STACEY: Oh. Do you have any lemonade?
ME: Ummmmm. Well, I have some pink crystal light I could mix up real quick but that’s about it.
STACEY: Pink lemonade, huh? How about raspberry slushy flavor? Could I have that instead?
ME: uuuuuuuuumm. I can mix up up pink lemonade and that’s the best I can do.

The next morning (or really mid afternoon because they sleep so late) I woke the girls.
ME: Good morning ladies! For breakfast I have buttermilk biscuits with fresh fruit or homemade pancakes. Which one would you like?
STACEY: Could I have a waffle?

Irritated and had about enough of all this…. I put my hands on my hips and tell lil Stacey the truth.

ME: Sugar, you ain’t sitting in the Waffle House where you place your order of anything you want. Now I have biscuits or pancakes. Which one?
STACEY: I guess biscuits.
So I get out the blueberries, cantaloupe, slice up strawberries and even have mandarin oranges all displayed nicely in pretty lil bowls. I drag out my white lace place mats and find matching glasses so their table will be bright and cheery 🙂 I pour the girls some orange juice and call them in. They ooohhh and ahhhh at the table and quickly sit down.

ME: Alrighty, here is the butter and I have plenty of jelly. We have grape, apple, raspberry and pepper jelly.
STACEY: May I have apple jelly instead?

My eyes lower into cat slits and I stare the lil girl down. But I’m not rude or snippy. I simply remind her of our earlier conversation.
ME: Remember how we talked about this NOT being a Waffle House?
STACEY: Yes ma’am
ME: Alrighty, Good. Which jelly would you like?
STACEY: Grape.
So needless to say, Izzy thinks I am mean and heartless to her friends. What was the little girl expecting, a foot massage? Good grief!!
And I have to ask…. Is it just me? Or is this lil girl just spoiled? Should I have been more accommodating or was I too accommodating and made it easier for her to just ask for more and more?!?!? Lastly, does my daughter have such nerve and ill manners when she is at others houses?
Certainly better not be………..I’ll swat her with my silver spatula! 🙂