Vintage Raisin Cake

When I was a young girl, our family vacationed at the home of one of my aunts. She was a lovely, kind, farm-y sort of soul and I watched everything she did. Mostly because I was certain that someday I needed to be the same, exact type person and I wanted to learn from the best.

One evening, after supper, she brought out the most luscious, Cinnamon Raisin Cake that I’d ever tasted. The really amazing thing was that I didn’t want to taste it in the first place because I am not a fan of raisins. AT all. Quite certain I told her so…politely.

Pretty sure my aunt told me something like, “Too bad. Have some anyway. You’ll love it.”

Oh, my goodness. Was she ever right.

She’s been gone for quite a while now. But today, for a few scrumptious moments…

we had her back…

and it was lovely.

 

 

Vintage Raisin Cake
 
Ingredients
  • 1 cup raisins
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 cup sugar
  • ½ cup butter
  • 2 eggs
  • 2 cups flour
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1 tsp baking soda
  • 1 tsp allspice
  • ½ tsp cloves
  • 1 t vanilla
Instructions
  1. Cook raisins in water till about 1 cup of water is left.
  2. Whirl raisins and water in the blender for about 5 seconds.
  3. Cream sugar, butter and eggs.
  4. Add raisins and liquid.
  5. Blend in flour, salt, soda, vanilla and spices.
  6. Spread batter in 11 x 17 cookie sheet as though baking a cake.
  7. Bake at 350 degrees for about 15-18 minutes.
  8. While still hot, spread with thin layer of powdered sugar icing or sprinkle with brown sugar--if desired.
  9. Cool and cut into bars.

 

Moving Day~

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About a month after we moved to the cute little house, we came back to actually get most of our things. Rhen wanted to get as much actual moving-our-stuff-out-and-over-to-the-house as possible in one trip, so he just broke down and rented a U-haul. That’s a big truck.

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I’d been packing for weeks and weeks, so most of our things were in boxes…

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but, oh, my GOODness–I have soooo much STUFF!

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But the guys were patient and kind and hard working and packed that big, old truck, not once…

but TWICE.

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Then they drove it allll the way…

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to my cute little house up the road.

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The weather was pretty dang soggy, but they didn’t seem to notice. Guys are such a wonderful idea. haha.

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They packed as much as they could into the carport, and put everything else…

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in the front room…

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and family room.

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I’m sooooo excited to start putting things where they belong. Some of this stuff, I haven’t seen in a few years.

I’ll be digging out for a bit…

and loving every second.

 

 

 

My First Christmas Eve~

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As I pulled out of the driveway from my daughter’s house, close to midnight on Christmas Eve–to spend the very first night at my very own little house, of course I was excited. Then, I looked back up at the big picture window and I could see them, Lyndi and her husband moving around in the front room to get everything ready for Santa Claus’ visit. I got the strangest clutch in my chest. My first thought was, “What am I doing?! Family and love and Christmas and happiness is happening right there, right now and I’m driving away from it–to be almost alone!”

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I’ve lived with my daughter and her family since before her children were born. Since both boys went on their missions. Since before Jillian got married. Since before Dane got married. Eight maybe nine Christmas’–I don’t know, I’ve lost count. It’s all we’ve known for a long, long time. Everything just the way that it was.

I kept driving out into the night with all the funny, scared, lonesome thoughts going through my head. By the time I was half way to my house it was snowing hard. After sliding a bit on a slow turn, I pulled over into a gas station parking lot…and started to cry. I was quite prepared to sit there for however long it took, to calm down and get a hold of myself.

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Then my phone rang. It was one of my other daughters calling to wish me a Merry Christmas Eve and to just see if I was ok. I think some little angel must have nudged her to call at that very moment. She told me that she was proud of me and that some things would be hard and different, but that they would also be good and wonderful. She told me that my family was still the same and close by and mine. She said that the scary things that were changing would be great.  Most importantly, she said, “Mom, everything is going to be all right.”

Insert big, heavy *sigh* right here.

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Funny how those last few words have such an incredible ability to actually make everything all right.

I drove the rest of the way home singing, “Chestnuts roasting…” with Nat King Cole, and it was warm and soft and lovely.

New. Different. A little scary.

But all good.

Here we go.

Merry Christmas my friends.

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The Santa Mug Tradition

We’ve never had a tradition like some people do–where the whole family has hot cocoa on Christmas Eve from a sweet little Santa mug. Never really thought about it, in fact.

Until I saw this funny little fellow while I was out shopping. He sort of, ummm, slipped into my cart.

Couldn’t be helped. Perhaps he just knew.

We’ve a tradition to start.

The Scent of New~

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One of the advantages of not actually living at the house, while it’s being “made over” is that when someone comes to do something marvelous–like lay brand, NEW carpet–I get to hang out in the kitchen and snap pictures every chance I get.

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It was all I could do not to giggle when the carpet guy brought the new–NOT-falling apart into dust–padding in. He had no idea what pad trauma we’d been through. Sheesh.

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Ooooh, here it comes. Lovely-ness approaching.

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I’ve always wondered how carpet guys cut those huge pieces to fit so perfectly. But the more I thought about it, the more I worried, so I quit watching.

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As he pulled back the front room carpet to finish off the entry edge–we discovered that there is pretty little hardwood under that carpet. Oh, yeah. YOUR days are numbered too, funny blue carpet. Heh, heh, heh.

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But for now, I’m gonna scrunch up my toes in this soft, fluffy, perfect, new stuff.

I’m a lucky duck.

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PS~ Thank you with all my heart to all those who made this post possible. I love you.