Something I never thought I'd have to label myself was a refugee from a hurricane, but that's exactly what I became on Tuesday evening! As Hurricane Gustav made his way across Louisiana and moved over Arkansas, he decided that he liked it so much he'd stay awhile. So he got all nice and comfy and just relaxed, generating ferocious winds and endless rainfall. I didn't mind the wind or rain until it escalated to the point of snapping trees. I happen to live near a bunch of really big trees and a bunch of power lines. They don't mix well. In fact, when they do mix, it usually results in a loss of electricity in the general direction of my house. And oddly enough, in this case, JUST my house. Ours was literally the ONLY house on the street to lose power. But unfortunately, not the only people in the city. I heard that some 20,000 people also lost power, resulting in a delay of the electric service.

This cessation of electricity was kind enough to wait until just after I pulled my last batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. So at least while I waited to see if the power would come back on, I could munch on some freshly baked cookies!

God is good to us. As the rain poured around us and Kyle and I packed our bags to find another place to stay, a couple of things occurred to me. 1) Gustav lowered the temperature to a balmy 73 degrees, lower than my ac normally runs, so we were not forced to endure scorching temperatures while we gathered our supplies and figured out where to go.... 2) my brother Zach and his wife, Anna, just moved down the street from us and have a lovely guest bedroom which they made available to us! 3) I was given a marvelous suggestion by a neighbor to run an extension cord from my deep freezer to a neighbor's house - thus salvaging the contents of my freezer and fridge. 4) as I lay in Anna's spacious queen sized guest bed Tuesday night, snuggling up in some of the softest sheets I've ever felt, with August asleep in my arms, Brooklyn pressed securely up against my side and Kyle's arms around all three of us, I knew that all the things that mattered the most to me were safe and secure and all together. You can't ask for more than that.

Plus, I had the pleasure of spending bonus time with Zach and Anna. We were so grateful to them for their hospitality, especially considering it was like their second week in their new house. Thank you, Zach and Anna! We love you so much!

And now, after a couple of days of displacement, the electric company has restored our power and we are back in our house. Grateful to be home and to have safely weathered the storm.

My good friend, Lynn, is without a doubt the world's most incredible gift-giver. She should write a book about it! She is also a fellow cook and food fanatic. She not only shares my love of it, she encourages me in it by providing me with the necessary ingredients! She recently gave me the most awesome gift - all the ingredients necessary to make cold sesame noodles, including the dish to serve it in! This happens to be a recipe found within a cookbook she also provided me with - Tyler's Ultimate.

I began this dish on Tuesday, but due to Hurricane Gustav and a little thing I like to call a power outage, I was forced to postpone completion and tasting of the cold sesame noodles until last night! And it was well worth the wait - they were delicious! Tasted exactly like my favorite dish at Lily's Dim Sum and Then Some. Thank you so much, Lynn! It was a raving success!!!!

Here is Brooklyn at 2 months. Below is August at 6 weeks. Do they look alike to you? The eyes, nose and mouth...man, they are definitely cut out of the same mold! Sometimes I look at August and see a mini-B!

Bank Consultant by Day....Trail-Blazer by Weekend

As I mentioned before, when my Dad gets to the Farm, he escapes from his every day self. Some people relieve stress by working out (me), others by painting and creating art (Kyle), others by riding their motorcycles (Josh) and some by mowing and taming the wild landscape. The latter is my Dad. He gets out there in his grubby polos and grubby jeans and even grubbier tennis shoes, climbs aboard Big Blue and takes off. From the farmhouse door, he can be seen in the distance hauling brush, burning bonfires of said brush, clearing trails, mowing the meadows...he comes in only to eat and kill fire ants (his other hobby). I love seeing him cruise by the door with the wind in his hair, his cheeks slightly burnt from the sun with a look on his face that's a perfect blend of contentment and something a little more barbaric...a little William Wallace, the guardian of his land.

It occurred to me that other men take to the road on their Hogs to escape the rat race on the weekends. My Dad is also a weekend warrior, but from the back of Big Blue.

I couldn't resist setting his hat on at a jaunty angle.

I realized I hadn't shown any pictures of August's bathtime! I love it when their baths only require enough water to fill a baby tub. And fortunately, August loves getting a bath. The warm water seems to throw him into a daze and he sort of zones out. Plus, he smells divine after it's all said and done and it's all I can do to stop kissing his little face and neck! And Brooklyn's usually close by to supervise my handiwork.

Over Labor Day weekend at the Farm, Hurricane Gustav began blowing into Arkansas. It was evident in the cooling of the temperatures on Saturday and Sunday and by Monday, the WIND was something to behold. It was amazing. I watched from my seat on the porch swing as my family lunged and lurched about the badminton court, cursing Gustav for blowing the birdie out of their reach. Gustav became a running joke, in fact, and the general scapegoat for anything that went awry...from the fire ants and errant birdies to burnt toast.

So as Brooklyn sat on top of the 4 wheeler and Kyle photographed her pretty little face, she threw her head about wildly to keep Gustav from whipping her eyes and cheeks with her fine, blond hair. A sight to behold, indeed.

This tractor has been a resident of the Farm for as long as I can remember. And every time we are at the Farm, my dad can be found perched on its lofty seat, blazing trails through the long grass. It is his peace. His escape from the fast and furious pace of life as a businessman. He almost adopts another persona. But that's a story for another entry.

He often tries to coax Brooklyn to blaze trails with him, but the general size and noisiness of Big Blue scares her away. I was surprised to see her seated on the big blue seat with Uncles Chad and Josh. I should have known they could get her up there. They convinced her she was driving it as they rotated the wheels and coaxed Big Blue forward about six inches. She thought she was on top of the world.

Games are another past-time at the Farm. And for those who know me, you know I do not like games. I have found an exception: Bananagrams. It's kind of like scrabble and cross-word puzzles, sort of, and it is a race against your own brain and the speed of everyone else's. I really like it. Especially when I win. Tee hee.

So one end of the table competed via the Settlers of Catan (which the entire Dennis family excluding me seems to have developed an addiction to). And the other end played Bananagrams.

Meanwhile, Brooklyn stole some hugs from RanDad and did some pretend 4weird racing with Uncle Michael. Always a willing accomplice to her ideas. I love him for that.

Brooklyn snuggled up to Lauren (and yes, her hand found its way to a "hungie"). Fortunately, my darling sisters-in-law are so patient with Brooklyn and her comfort-habits.








Brooklyn found some headphones used by the boys to protect their ears when mowing, etc. She thought she was the bee's knees. Even made up her own little ditty about wearing headphones. Went something like this..."Heeaaadddd phhooonnneeesss."












Meanwhile, the two Floyd boys crashed out in our bedroom. Big Mister and Little Mister.

Chad, Kyle and Michael take time out to sun and read. This is Farm-time in its purest form.












Even our dogs know how to get into it. Notice my dog, Bailey, stays by herself to the right. While my parents' dogs, Cole and Rebel, stake out the other side.










Aunt Melissa got some quality time with August while I acted as the roving photographer.



Usually, we all come with stuff to do. Kyle brought art stuff last time, and this weekend, Lauren brought her own project. I managed to address most of my birth announcement envelopes while there. Have yet to post them in the mail, but take heart! They are coming!

There is a little place we like to call the Farm. Situated out in the middle of nowhere to those who don't get that the country is just as much a somewhere as the city or anywhere else, my family has built a house that overlooks a huge meadow and contains a pond and about a thousand trails in the woods. I grew up going to this place that my mother's family owns. I talk about it frequently on this blog because it's the place my family goes to get away from it all and to just relax. Oddly enough, even when the place is packed with my entire family and spouses and dogs, it's still easy to find a quiet corner to be by yourself and read a book or work a crossword puzzle. Which is the only place I find myself doing crosswords, I might add. And there are always people in quiet corners doing just that. There are also always people out playing badminton or riding 4weirds, as B calls them. And my dad can ALWAYS be found on the back of Big Blue, the monstrous Ford tractor that he uses to blaze trails and haul trees or whatever else he thinks needs to be done from his perch on the tractor. Since he doesn't have the bulldozer that he so desperately longs for. Someday, Dad, it's yours!

It's a place where my mom doesn't have to do all the dishes and my Grandmother can fall asleep sitting up in a rocking chair after laughing hysterically at Planes, Trains and Automobiles. This past weekend, most of us convened there to enjoy Labor Day Weekend.

Turns out, we had company. In the form of a bazillion fire ants. I think I may have been the only person who was not personally assaulted by the little devils, and that is only because I rarely ventured from the house! (good books and a baby) It seriously became hilarious to hear someone yelp in pain, do the "fire ant dance" whereupon one starts leaping about with high knees, slapping furiously at ankles to dislodge any biters. Someone else would come running with the killing powder and wipe out the colony.

The Farm evokes so many memories for me. As I said, I grew up going there during the summers, on holidays, whenever we needed to get away. My Grandmother hauled as many of us as she could for her church's Bible School every summer. And boy, those weeks are just oozing memories! Of the old farmhouse which is now mainly inhabited by wasps. There were endless games of Annie, Annie Over around the little sheds...the summer the woods flooded with about 3 feet of water and we hauled my Grandfather's fishing boat down to the water and paddled our way along the trails...swimming in the pond, swatting horse flies away and sinking toes into the cold muck at the bottom of the pond (ok that wasn't me)...eating my Grandma's homemade fried pies, fried chicken and homemade ice cream...riding 4wheelers through the trails...it's a magical place.

It's always bittersweet to leave, as I told my mom today. I love to come back to my house, but I hate to leave the Farm. I'm so glad it's there and I love what it represents to my family and to me.

I have been reading a book Kyle bought me for my birthday called Julie & Julia. A story of a woman in NYC who decided to embark on a year long culinary journey - she took it upon herself to cook all 524 something recipes contained in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Kyle knew I would be drawn to this book for several reasons. One, I am a HUGE fan of Julia Child. Which is even more interesting because I have never actually ever seen one of Julia's famous cooking show episodes. During my formative years, my family did not own a television, so it isn't something I would have happened upon by accident. I discovered my love for her through a book called "My Life in France - Julia Child". I was so drawn to her that I subsequently purchased the latest edition of MtAoFC and, in typical Ashley fashion, basically read it from cover to cover. Well, not verbatim, but enough to understand that to attempt to cook every recipe is simply staggering and impressive. Secondly, I am just crazy enough to do something like that myself. Thirdly, the author kept a blog the whole year to track her life during that time. Sounds fun!

Reading through the book, I have been more inspired to blog than ever! Which has led me to evaluate all the daily anecdotes of life in terms of a blog entry. Not in an attempt to try to make mundane things sound more interesting or validate my life in particular, but I have inadvertently found myself thinking about little things as though I were writing them on a post on my blog. And it's weird to do that! Like I am editing my thoughts for posting or something!

I wonder if everyone who keeps a blog sort of subconsciously "blogs" in their mind throughout a given day...

For those of you who know me, you know how passionate I am about breastfeeding. As a woman, I feel there is no greater privilege than to be able to breastfeed your baby. Yes, it's work, but once you and baby get the hang of it, there is nothing better. It can develop the most incredible bond between mom and tot. Which is one of my favorite reasons to breastfeed. It's also one of the only things, other than carrying the baby and delivering it into the world, that I, as the baby's mother, alone can provide. It creates a precious dependency on me that is all too fleeting. From the moment they're born, our babies are moving ever closer to independence. To the day when they fly from our nests and strut around on their own. So, not to dip too deeply into morbid thoughts, I cling to those days and weeks and months when my little one NEEDS me in a very unique way.

Of course, when your baby needs to eat every two hours or so, this means you will probably be forced to figure out how to meet that need without completely exposing your heretofore private body parts to the general public. Most people are very accommodating and understanding to nursing moms, at least most people in my world. My immediate family members are so used to the concept that they barely flinch when August starts nuzzling their own "chestal" region indicating an impending howl unless something quenches his hunger. They pass him over quickly, usually just averting their eyes while my practiced hand unsnaps my nursing bra, slips up the shirt just enough for August to land his target and then slip the shirt down enough to afford him some privacy.

There are all sorts of handy gadgets out there to help ensure privacy, but sometimes none of those are on hand. Such as this past Friday night when we stopped in Monticello en route to the Farm, to grab a bite to eat at Ray's. Well, lately, August has decided my meal time signals HIS meal time, as inconvenient as that can sometimes be! So I'm sitting there, my freshly made taco salad exploding out of its paper boat, my mouth watering in anticipation, when August smells the salad and starts wailing for his own. Dern it. I have no blanket, no burp cloths on hand...just my shirt. So, I angle myself into the booth, away from any prying eyes, latch him on and do my best to keep things under cover.

Now, bear in mind we are in SOUTHERN Arkansas, and while these people are the salt of the earth for the most part, sometimes, they're just plain salty. As we sat there in our little booth, eating and minding our own business, a party of 7 or 8 people, old enough to KNOW BETTER (like grandparents or great-grandparents!), traipse past our table and give the usual smiles at cute little Brooklyn. Most of them caught the sideways position of August and just moved right along. Except this one exceptionally dull man who didn't move along. He stopped dead in his tracks. Now, August's cute little feet and chubby legs were visible as was the back of his head, but his little face was completely covered by my shirt and he was nursing away. Mr. Brilliant Passer-By moved closer to our table - Kyle and I exchanged startled glances. The guy made some inane comment about babies...and something or other about how he must make noise..I wasn't getting it. I said, Uh, yeah, the baby is EATING! He was still looking directly at August, still standing there. I was stunned. Who was this imbecile? Did he seriously not GET that I was breastfeeding? Was he a total perv or WHAT?! By this time, Kyle is seriously looking mad and about to get up and clock Mr. Doofus, as was I! Still, this man's expression registered NO comprehension or any intent to move. And I had NOTHING! No cover! My napkin certainly wasn't gonna do it, should August decide just at that moment that he was full and rear back his head, exposing Milk Central to the world!! I was starting to sweat and also get really ticked off when another member of this gentleman's party realized he wasn't moving along, and they called him. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the general direction of my chest and left us in peace. But SERIOUSLY! Get a clue, moron!

Had Kyle not been busy preventing Brooklyn from hurling herself off the bench and I just trying to maintain some dignity, Mr. Monticello would have been lying on the floor, out cold, rendered so by my right hook! It was definitely an adventure.

As I pushed my loaded cart around Kroger this afternoon, the soothing Muzak tunes were interrupted periodically by "inter-office" calls between Kroger employees. For example, "Karla, call for the meat department - 4689", "Greg, report to the deli" etc. What really made me laugh out loud (yes, I know, it seems I laugh out loud a lot, and I really do...) is when Brooklyn, after each page, yelled up to the ceiling in the general direction of the intercom- "OKAY!" Every time. It was one of my funnier Kroger trips.

As August is 6 weeks old today and he STILL has Thrush, I placed a call to his pediatrician to have them call in more medicine for him. He doesn't seem to be bothered by it, and it doesn't appear to be affecting me in any negative way, it didn't seem urgent. But still, I am ready for his little tongue to be normal tongue color, rather than coated with white. As usual, you never get anywhere near the doc without going in. So I was chatting to his nurse, explaining the situation with the phone held between my ear and shoulder on one side and August held up to the other shoulder, burping him. Mid-conversation with the nurse, I realized August was GUSHING upchuck over my shoulder.

Every now and then, he just overfills his little tummy, but refuses to stop nursing. The result is that his tummy says enough FOR him. Usually a few minutes after I disengage him and start burping him. That was the case the other day. A few pats to his back and that triggered it - a GEYSER of milk shooting across my bedroom. Somehow, my clothes were left untouched, but the floor was covered. Three big gushes of this stuff happen over my left shoulder as I calmly continue to pat his back and never miss a beat in my conversation with the nurse on the right shoulder.

When I hung up the phone, I assessed the damage and sighed. More floor cleaning to do. But at least I accomplished my goal and got some medicine ordered for the little puker. And I felt pretty tough not even flinching throughout the event. It made me laugh to think that this is what I've grown into. All part of being a mom, I guess.

I suppose it's inevitable. As often as I kiss little August's tiny mouth and as often as he pukes...it was only a matter of time before I kissed his little mouth right as he spit up. And it happened. He spit up right in my mouth. I nearly gagged. I hope my milk tastes better to him going down than it does coming up! Or maybe that's why he's spitting up! I surely hope not...

I am posting this recipe in response to a blog entry posted by my friend Liz (Mabels House). She is an incredibly talented writer and blogger and I love seeing inside her truly creative and wonderful head through her entries. The other day, she discussed her attempt to make some chocolate pumpkin muffins. I believe her final product was less than what she had hoped for. SO, I post this recipe to offer her hope! I believe this is the best muffin I have ever had.

I first tasted it in Lexington, Kentucky as part of a welcome bag for wedding guests of Rick & Charis. The bag contained 4 muffins. A really sweet considerate mom would have given most of them to her husband and daughter, but I think I devoured almost all of them. I was hooked. So much so that I pestered the new groom to get the recipe for me so I could bake them and eat them to my heart's content. He was gracious enough to comply. Here is the recipe. May it bring you as much pleasure as it continues to bring me!

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins!

1/2 cup sliced almonds
1 2/3 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground nutmeg
2 eggs
1 cup canned pumpkin
1/2 cup butter melted (I recommend unsalted butter - the real deal)
1 cup chocolate chips (or more if you're inspired and feeling chocolatey)

Toast the almonds (put on a pie plate in an oven at 400 and give them about 5 minutes. When you start to smell them, they're ready). Combine the dry ingredients and set aside. Whisk eggs, then add pumpkin and butter. Stir in chocolate chips and almonds to pumpkin mixture. Fold pumpkin mixture into dry ingredients until just moist. Don't over-mix, as is the secret with all muffins. Spoon into greased muffin tins and bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes.

A tip in baking: when you smell the stuff, it's probably done or VERY close to it, despite the time on the timer.

While this seems like a fall recipe, I have enjoyed it all summer. But you're in luck cause once school starts, it's officially ok to start doing "fall" things. So get to baking!

And Liz, please give these a try. I KNOW you'll like them. Maybe too much!

I love to cook. And Bake with a capital B. I can literally get full reading a cookbook. It's as though I absorb the foods as I read the recipes! I read cookbooks cover to cover like they are regular books. In fact, I can't begin to use a cookbook until I have explored every recipe. I don't mind spending some time at it, either. While I understand the 5 ingredient mentality of cooking, I don't cook that way. I like buying strange and exotic ingredients and using them in crazy recipes. I've been known to buy an ingredient and find a use for it later. I like opening my cupboards and knowing I'll find things like almond paste, chocolate cocoa nibs, espresso powder, apricot peach chutney, black peppercorns, cardomom pods, saffron, every imaginable type of flour to cook with, Guittard chocolates, interesting molds, vanilla beans.

I like buying crazy cheeses (if only I could remember to label them once they have been opened and placed into a ziploc bag) and building exotic sandwiches. Or experimenting with things like homemade marshmallows. I've tried things to great success and others I've tossed as soon as I tasted them. I scratch through recipes I don't like and put smiley faces by those I really really do. I put a check by every recipe I've made and try to constantly attempt new recipes. If I had my "druthers" I'd bake night and day. Or make fancy things like chocolate truffles and molded or dipped chocolates. I'm crazy about fancy chocolate - preferably really dark and bitter. But since we do have to eat something other than dessert, I also enjoy cooking. I don't do much with meat. Chicken sometimes, rarely beef, and absolutely nothing else. I LOVE fruits and vegetables and shopping at the Farmers Market. Although I confess I get intimidated there. All the people and rows of thousands of veggies. I never know if I'm paying too much and it's so hard to price-shop with all the people around. But I really do love buying local produce and organic food, so I try to be brave and ask questions and not worry about how stupid I seem to the little Asian woman when I don't know the difference between all her herbs. Or have a clue what to do with all the crazy different green things she's selling.

I'm glad I have a brave husband who isn't afraid to dig into whatever dish I put before him. And thank the Lord, he's not a meat and potatoes kind of guy (which there's nothing wrong with), cause he'd seriously go hungry in my house. He didn't bat an eye when I made a tortellini soup last night with absolutely no meat in sight. Just spinach and tomatoes and tortellini. He WILL tell me if he doesn't like something, and usually I know before he says it if he will or won't. And bless his heart, he tolerates my obsession with soups. And I confess, I am obsessed. I could live on nothing but soup. The possibilities are ENDLESS! And with my immersion blender, I can puree things till the cows come home!

I should also add here, before anyone gets any ideas...I am not a true cook in that I can whip things up just by perusing my pantry and seeing what ingredients I have. I envy those people in the way I envy people who play the piano by ear (my brother Michael). I need recipes to cook and I need sheet music to play the piano. Once I try a recipe, I may then add my own touches, but I have yet to discover the inventive, creative cook in me, if she exists. I may always need the foundation of an existing recipe. In another life, I would love to have gone to a professional cooking school where you learn to build dishes from scratch with just a few ingredients, but that didn't seem to be God's plan for me. So for now, I'll utilize the skills of those who HAVE gone to those schools, made successes of themselves and written cookbooks to share their brilliance.

But I'm rambling...or is it just blogging? This whole entry began with my intent to tell you about my two newest cookbooks. Birthday gifts from Kyle. And SPOT ON! I love them. I'm still in the perusal phase, but as soon as I get down to business and pull on my apron, I'll let you know.