Sunday, November 18, 2012
My Grandmothers Peanut Butter Fudge
This is my grandmother's peanutbutter fudge. She would always make it during Thanksgiving and Christmas. I thought I would include this in my blog. Especially as I miss her being here in this season. And one thing my grandmother always make sure of that everyone was fed. So I hope you'll enjoy this recipe.
Mix 3 cups sugar with a small can evaporated milk and 1 stick of butter in a pan on medium heat- bring to a rapid boil and let it boil for 5 minutes-remove from heat add small container of marshmallow and a bag of peanut butter chips ( can use a small jar of peanut butter) spread out in pan - then let it cool then cut n eat
Intro to Butterflies Still Dance
When you think of community what comes to your mind? Think about the people, places, food and perhaps some memories. And when was the last time you took time to take it in? I identify with this thought in so many ways. From the time I entered college I can't remember when I stopped to realize I have what I have for a reason. Perhaps some of you can identify with that. However, over the years from entering the adult world I have come to realize that life is too priceless then let it slip through the cracks even in it's frustrations.
That is why I have chosen to start a new blog called, " Butterflies Still Dance." For I have found it's so easy to just feel discouraged or wondering why things are the way they are. I really don't know many answers to that but I am learning that maybe simple answer must be accepted first and that is love. To look around and remember where you came from has a purpose. And that my friends doesn't feel or seem logical but I hope through these poems, stories etc that it may shed some light but also a way to just share life. Welcome to the journey friend!
That is why I have chosen to start a new blog called, " Butterflies Still Dance." For I have found it's so easy to just feel discouraged or wondering why things are the way they are. I really don't know many answers to that but I am learning that maybe simple answer must be accepted first and that is love. To look around and remember where you came from has a purpose. And that my friends doesn't feel or seem logical but I hope through these poems, stories etc that it may shed some light but also a way to just share life. Welcome to the journey friend!
Man Closest To My Heart
Soft pasty wrinkled skin
brim fingers and dried calsus with hands that
have held small quaint children
plucked a weed or two with a heart that has hugged each person
with a smile or maybe even honked the horn to say " Hello"
Whistles ringing sweet music to the ear
shucking corn till sweat of brow
sneaking candy to grand children but never lets his
sweet tooth fade because each smile is worth showing
brim fingers and dried calsus with hands that
have held small quaint children
plucked a weed or two with a heart that has hugged each person
with a smile or maybe even honked the horn to say " Hello"
Whistles ringing sweet music to the ear
shucking corn till sweat of brow
sneaking candy to grand children but never lets his
sweet tooth fade because each smile is worth showing
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