Here’s a fun little project that turns out quite pretty in the end. In fact, depending on the ages of your children–you might just turn this one over to them. We used the assembly line approach and made quite a noodle choir in about an hour.
For each angel you will need:
1 wooden bead
1 Rotini noodle
1 Bowtie noodle
2 macaroni noodles
a small pile of Acini de Pepe pasta
Tacky glue
First, glue the wooden beads to the top of the Rotini noodle and allow to dry. Then, dip the angel’s head in a hair type shape.
Pat the gluey head into the Acini de Pepe pasta for a curly hair look.
Next, glue the macaroni on like arms and allow to dry a bit. Glue the bowtie wings on the back. You can leave your angels a lovely noodle color…
or you can lay them on newspaper in a well ventilated area and spray paint them gold or silver or white.
Turn them over and spray until all the nooks and crannies are painted thoroughly.
Add a string or cord for a hanging loop on the back above the bow. Now your sweet little angels are ready to grace your presents or to just be hung on the tree directly…
do not pass go…
do not collect $200.
Oh—Pasta and Alfredo sauce may sound really good right about now.
This clever little recipe is pretty darn close to the Chex Candy–except that it uses pretzels instead of Chex.
Hence the name.
Nice touch, though–with the salt. Around this time of year, I find that anything with the word “Toffee” in it just makes you glad to be alive.
Family. Friends. Toffee.
Right now, that’s all there is–and baby, it’s enough.
Toffee Pretzels
Ingredients
1-1/2 cups corn syrup
1-1/2 cups sugar
1 cup butter
1-1/2 tsp vanilla
1 bag pretzels (about 24oz.)
Cook first three ingredients together to full boil. Boil 3 minutes. Remove from heat and add vanilla. Pour over pretzels and mix to coat all pieces. Spread on wax paper to cool.
“I grew up during the Great Depression in the little town of Taylor, Arizona. In those days there were no jobs around Taylor, so when I was seventeen years old, a couple of friends and I decided we would hitchhike the 250 miles to Phoenix to find some kind of work.
It was the first week in December of 1933, and we rode part of the way in the back of a cattle truck. We had to get down between the cows to keep warm.
When we arrived in Phoenix, we found out that there was no work to be had. Many men were standing in lines waiting for the free soup the government was giving out to those in need. You could buy hotcakes for ten cents, but we didn’t have a dime; so after a while we joined the soup line.
We looked for work and somehow survived for two weeks; then Christmas drew near. One of my friends had a sister who lived not too far away, and he and my other friend decided to go to her house for Christmas. But I was determined to go home.
Early the next morning, the day before Christmas, I started hitchhiking.
I didn’t get to Flagstaff until 5:00 in the afternoon. That was halfway home. The sky was steel gray and it was bitterly cold, with eight inches of snow on the ground. There were holes in both of my shoes, so I found some cardboard and cut pieces to fit inside to keep my feet a little drier. Then I started down the highway again, trying to get another ride.
Since it was Christmas Eve, there wasn’t much traffic. It grew darker and colder, and I became more and more dejected as the few cars swished by in the snow and the chill of the night penetrated my thin coat.
By 10:00 I had become so cold and numb that I began to wonder what it would be like to freeze to death. I was so tired that I knew I’d never make it unless someone stopped soon. Several more cars passed me by, and I had to talk to myself to keep going. “One more car,” I said. “If the next car doesn’t stop, I’ll lie down under a tree and let it happen. One more car.”
In a short while I could hear an engine in the distance. “This is it,” I told myself, taking a deep breath as I held out my thumb. Swish.
The car went by me. I closed my eyes and sank to my knees in total despair.
In my misery, everything was shut out of my mind for several seconds; but then I heard a sound. The car had stopped and was backing up! I struggled to my feet, heart pounding. In the car were two men from my hometown of Taylor.
They had recognized me as they passed.
At about 1:00 a.m. I was safely deposited at the front door of my home. I could see there was still a light on, and as I came quietly through the door, there sat Dad and Mom with their heads in their hands, praying. When I spoke I was greeted with joyful cries and tears. Mom told me they had been praying all evening and into the night for my well-being and safe return home.
There were no presents that Christmas. Dad killed an old rooster next morning, and that was our Christmas dinner. Yet I have never felt the spirit of Christmas more strongly than I did that day as I sat with Dad, Mom, and my brothers and sisters and felt the warmth and love of our family.”
Very soon—next week in fact, I’ll get to talk to my far away boy for Christmas. When people hear that he only has six months left they ALWAYS say, “Wow, the time has gone by so fast.”
Well, not to me…
He sent us these pictures and truthfully they remind me of so many things we have to be thankful for this holiday season.
Here is the paper clip star on top of his tiny pretend Christmas tree.
Here he is with Elder Newman at a place called the Hill of Crosses. The people in Lithuania have left millions of crosses here for over 600 years in defiance of foreign invasion. Dane sent post cards from this monument as well. It is an amazing place.
Here is the Barbie sized Christmas tree that sits on their table.
He sent this one especially for me. This is a game we used to play on hot summer days. He’d actually lay on the floor and let me “try” to pour water directly in his mouth without nearly drowning him. Why he loved it I’ll never know–but apparently he’s carrying on without me.
Silly dude…
Since the string of lights is bigger than his whole tree–he put it here with a picture of the Savior. Very pretty–I’d say.
Here they are…The men in black–looking all brave and scary. But we know who they really are…
Elder Porter, Elder Cook and my Daney-boy–in their true forms–crazy people in a foreign land. Please note the matching ties. Yikes…
