“Fathers, yours is an eternal calling from which you are never released and its importance transcends time. It is a calling for both time and eternity”
~Ezra Taft Benson
Daddy’s Dollar Shirt
Growing up in L.A. I spent a ton of time watching kids make incredible things out a simple piece of paper…watching and envying that is. There was this one girl–Donna–who could fold a dollar bill into a man’s dress shirt. She’d do it too…if you gave her a quarter…and brought your own dollar, of course.
So now, my friends–we’re going to totally bypass old Donna, and figure out how to make these cute things by ourselves–for nothing. But you still have to bring your own dollar.
Just in time for Father’s Day.
1~ Fold dollar in half.
2~ Unfold and then fold side edges to the center crease. Crease as precisely as you can, and use a newer bill, if possible. It will hold the shape better than a worn one.
3~ Fold out the corners of the bottom.
4~ Now fold up the bottom so that the crease is just where the flaps end.
5~ Reach into the fold and grab the tip of the corner piece and pull it gently out–but don’t press it. See the crease lines where you folded up the tips in step 3 ?
6~ Tuck the corners down in along the crease line.
7~ Press down flat.
8~ Now do the same thing…
to the other side. These are going to be your “sleeves” in a few minutes.
9~ Flip your bill over…
10~ and fold down about 1/4 inch at the other end.
11~ Turn over again.
12~ Carefully fold in each side at an angle so that the little “collars” touch the center line.
13~ Fold the bottom half up to the “collar.” You’ll see that the shirt front is a bit too long to look normal so….
14~ make an accordion fold in the middle of the bill.
15~ Tuck the sleeve piece under the collar…like this.
Now make a zillion more with your millions and stand them up where ever you want to make a lasting impression on Dad.
Of course, you could always use $50’s…
that would do it too.
“That Cake Guy”
I remember some kid at school asking me one day, “Isn’t your dad that cake guy?” and I said, “Yep.” I didn’t really get how he knew it, though. Turns out, that his brother was in my sister’s class and she had brought her teacher a fancy birthday cake that dad had made.
Laurie and I were famous for about two days–as daughters of “that cake guy.” It was lovely while it lasted.
Many years later, when I was married, with a couple of kids, Daddy called me and said, “Marie Osmond wants me to make her wedding cake.” I positively–ok, ok, nearly fainted dead away.
What you may not know, is that I’d always been a Donny fan and was, in fact, certain that if he’d been in his right mind–which he wasn’t–he would have married me…instead of whoever he actually married. So this was indeed big news.
Dad fussed and messed around in the bake shop for weeks, figuring and calculating how to make the most enormous cake he’d ever made before–because it’s what Marie wanted. I remember the day he was working on that bottom tier–biggest thing I’d ever seen–when somebody said, “Well, it’s pretty, but how are you going to fit it out the door?”
There he was, nearly finished with the thing and in fact, it wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly fit out the door.
Do you suppose it’s blasphemous to pray your guts out for a cake? I hope not, because that’s exactly what we did. As Dad and the guys lifted the ridiculous thing and headed to the door, we all whispered, “Please-please-please-please…” Then, as they started to tip it to the side, we crossed our fingers that it wouldn’t slide off the cake board and smash to the ground. We all chanted, “don’t let it slip…don’t let it slip…don’t let it slip.”
Miracle of miracles–and lucky for US…our prayers were answered…
and it didn’t.
Saw this recipe online awhile back and was intrigued. Could there truly be something on the Scottish menu that isn’t deep fried or boiled in a sheep’s stomach? I can hear my little Scottish daddy laughing this very minute–because he didn’t think so. But I’m here to tell you that these tasty little breakfast bites are delicious—magnamoniously delicious–without frying.
Now, if you’re like me, you likely need a bit more flavor than boring old bread crumbs offer.
I had garlic crouton in the cupboard so we used them instead. Any flavor would work well. A food processor would have worked well too. I’m just saying…
Hard boil the eggs. Shell them–I shouldn’t have to tell you that, but I want to be clear. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Beat 1 raw egg in a bowl and set aside. If you are interested in more flavor you can mix a bit of sage or Ranch powder in with your sausage.
Wrap a thin layer of sausage around each of the hard boiled eggs. I worried that this part would be hard–but the sausage was quite a team player and stuck to the egg very politely. Dip each sausage ball into the raw egg.
Now, roll them in the bread crumbs.
Aren’t they cute? Bake them about 30 minutes–turning each one over after about 15 minutes, so that they cook evenly.
I thought maybe sausage gravy would be stupendous with these babies, but alas, we couldn’t wait. It was all I could do to get this picture before vultures started to circle. Warning Will Robinson–these don’t last long once the guys see them. I’m thinking they would make yummy lunch snacks…if you hide them.
Now go forth…
and make us proud.
Happy St.Andrew’s Day!(the patron saint of Scotland–of course!)
- Bulk sausage
- Bread Crumbs
- Hard boil the eggs.
- Shell them.
- Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
- Beat 1 raw egg in a bowl and set aside.
- If you are interested in more flavor you can mix a bit of sage or Ranch powder in with your sausage.
- Wrap a thin layer of sausage around each of the hard boiled eggs.
- Dip each sausage ball into the raw egg.
- Now, roll them in the bread crumbs.
- Bake them about 30 minutes–turning each one over after about 15 minutes, so that they cook evenly.
Pool shark, that is.
Back in the old days, when my parents were still around, my cute little daddy surprised us all speechless, when he up and bought a pool table. We never knew he was even interested in a pool table. In fact, when I was dating a very handsome boy–who shall remain forever nameless–back in high school, there were only a few rules beyond, “Behave yourself.” They went something like this–
1) Come home the same night you went out.
2) Never get on a motorcycle–with anyone.
3) Do not, under any circumstances enter a pool hall with some guy.
So a few years later, what does he do? He tows a real live pool table into the basement and promptly becomes…
Seriously. He beat everyone–
except my mom…because he let her cheat.
One day he and Lyndi were going downstairs to “have a game” and I said, “So, is my daughter going into a pool hall with some guy?”
He said, “Naw, I’m not some guy. I’m some grampa. Don’t you worry. If I see some guys I’ll throw ’em out.” He was grinning big now, and said, “Well, at least it isn’t a motorcycle. You know how I feel about motorcycles.”
Then he laughed his head off.
Oooooh…I do miss that laugh.