Wall Winter Fun

We decided to try our luck with homemade snow ice cream during this last big snow.  My kiddos love the snow, love to cook, and most of all love ice cream, so this was right up their alley.  I'd recommend to any family plagued by cabin fever and just looking for some plain old, easy fun.   

SNOW ICE CREAM

Approx 8 cups of snow

2 eggs

4 cups of milk

2 cups of sugar

2-3 teaspoons of vanilla

We played around with the ingredients as we mixed and added more to suit our taste.  

HOW TO

In a giant bowl whisk two eggs until bubbly.  Add your milk and continue to whisk away!  Make some bubbles!  Add your vanilla and...WHISK!  Then add your 2c of sugar and keep on a'whiskin'!  Now comes the fun part.  Start adding big heaps of snow.  Our whisk didn't do the trick, so we broke out the potato masher.  Watching the transformation was super fun, and the best part, eating it of course!  We added sprinkles, of course.  No ice cream is complete without sprinkles!  Hope you try this on your next snow day.  It makes for great memories with the kids!

That Nine Year Itch

Originally, I was going to just do a status, but I thought, what the hell?  I don't get to my blog often enough, so I'll just put 'er there.  So, here I am.  

It's been nine years today.  Nine years ago my whole world was shot down; changed for ever and ever and ever...

Mostly, I miss his calm presence; his reassurance.  Him.  The security he provided in my life.  I feel, at times, lost.  My past is gone.  My parent's have gone.  Every year I think that I can't believe it's been this many years since I've seen his face, or hugged his round belly, or cried to him (hyperventilated).  He always had the paper bags handy.  Maybe David should get some paper bags.  God, I miss him so; to the very depths of my soul--the innermost part of my heart.  I could never convey into words or text how badly I want him here with me.  I just do.  We are selfish humans.  Don't say to me that I'll see him again one day, those words don't help me right now; they bring me no comfort.

He told me to write.  Write something, somewhere at some point and time --I don't care where, just do it.  So, I do.  Mostly about him.  If he only knew that.  My paper thoughts are almost always of him.  

K-