Graduation Celebration!

With graduation coming up, it's time to start planning the celebrations! My idea of a party after the graduation, however, is only a dream because at TO the graduates board luxury liners (chartered buses) for Grad Night at Disneyland right after the ceremony. So Chelsea wants to go to El Torito Grill (in Sherman Oaks)Wednesday night, before graduation, so that Grandma and Grandpa can go with us. That seems like such a public celebration, so I'm planning a dinner at home this weekend to enjoy all of Chelsea's favorite foods and watch old family videos. 

Our menu will consist of:

Santa Maria grilled trip-tip
Mini-Macaroni-and-Cheese-Cups 
(recipe here: http://www.pincookie.com/mini-macaroni-and-cheese-cups/)
Boston Baked Beans
Caprese Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette
Raspberry Lemonade
          AND
Salted Caramel Cupcakes
(recipe here: http://www.mybakingaddiction.com/salted-caramel-cupcakes/ )

Chelsea has always loved macaroni and cheese (Brandon and Heather, too) so when I saw these on Pinterest, I knew I had to make them for her. So far I have never made good mac and cheese from scratch. It's pretty pathetic that the best mac and cheese in the Hackney household comes from Kraft, or the frozen stuff from Trader Joe's. Even I love that! This is my last ditch effort.

For dessert we'll have her high school favorite: salted caramel cupcakes. I found a recipe for them on Pinterest, too. What would I do without Pinterest? The picture won't upload, so you'll have to look at my Pinterest entertaining board (http://pinterest.com/lhackney/entertaining/) or click on the link  I included (above) to see them. They look perfect!

I plan to decorate with a photo timeline banner. I'll use Heather's cute clothespins (from her Etsy shop: http://www.etsy.com/listing/152454141/striped-clothespin-magnets-with-mini?ref=shop_home_active ) to clip photos to a piece of twine, and hang it from the mantel in the family room. The flowers are made from vintage book pages of Shakespeare's sonnets, and Chelsea LOVES Shakespeare. It's a match made in heaven ;)  Since it's June, I don't have to worry about a fire in the fireplace!

I also want to use one of Heather's cake toppers (http://www.etsy.com/listing/121237719/mini-tassel-cake-topper?ref=shop_home_active ) on the cupcakes. I'm so lucky to have such a crafty daughter. Chelsea's favorite color is pink, so this one will be perfect. Luckily, the frosting on the cupcakes is vanilla, so it won't clash. Add a vase of pink peonies (saw them at Costco earlier this week), and I think I'm all set. I am not an "over-the-top" party mom, any more, at least. I guess I burned out doing the kids' birthday parties when they were little.

Next stop: Father's Day. Can't have Alan feeling unappreciated. Any ideas?

I'm "almost" an empty nester

My baby is graduating from high school, so we've had a lot of “lasts” this year: her last first day of school, her last Halloween costume (that I have to do anything about) her last dance costumes, permission slips, field trips and automated phone calls from the school. She took her last AP exam, so no more AP classes! The battery in her calculator died in the middle of her AP Calc exam. She didn't have a spare, and I didn't freak out. I guess she’ll be taking calculus again in college. I must have finally overcome the helicoptering mom syndrome. Better late than never.

She brought home her yearbook last week. Last time I have to shell out eighty dollars for one of those! Her friends from another school were looking at it and said that it had so much editorializing in it that it looked more like a textbook than a yearbook. I had totally forgotten that I paid for a Senior Tribute, until Chelsea asked me if I’d seen it. The high school has run out of opportunities to hit me up for ads and tributes. I’m not crying about that one.

Alan’s car was in the shop a few days ago, so he drove mine to work. On the way to pick him up from the shop I realized that I’d forgotten to grab the spare keys to her car. He was going to drop me off at the school so that I could get her car, but I decided to just work in the yard until she got home. It would probably have been the “last” time I picked her up after school. The “last time” was some un-momentous, already forgotten afternoon that’s already past. Okay by me.

Her last dance concert was a few weeks ago. She drove herself to CVS to get false eyelashes, and to all the rehearsals. She even took care of buying her own costume pieces. I remembered to buy her flowers, and, this time, I forced myself to NOT photograph her entire dances. I watched. I enjoyed. And I realized that most of the dances look a lot alike. Except that only a few of them feature my daughter, with the beautifully arched feet, graceful hands, and really high kicks. I’ll never miss sitting in the bleachers for three hours in a gym that feels like a sauna. And I won’t have to miss Chelsea dancing, because she does it quite regularly in my kitchen while I’m making dinner. Well, I won’t miss it until September.

She’s had her last prom, last group project, and last birthday party. We still have the Senior Showcase (in which she’ll be singing), Senior Awards, and of course graduation and grad night. Then she’ll have her last day of work, because her boss has already replaced her (with a full-time, college graduate!), last summer vacation (unemployed, most likely) and, at some point, her last night in this house. The only place she’s ever lived.

Then, Alan and I will make the long drive to drop her off, kiss her goodbye, and make the even longer drive home. To our … not empty nest. Brandon will be here for at least two more years while he finishes college locally.

Why do I seem okay with all of this? Maybe it’s because she “school-choiced” to another high school. All those people I spent so much time with throughout my kids early years, the one’s I thought we were close to, that we’d keep in touch with…. I only see by accident at the grocery store. I haven’t seen many familiar faces in four years, and won’t see many at her graduation. There isn't anyone from her high school that I’ll miss. She might, but the friends she made as a teen were not her Brownie or soccer buddies. We never carpooled, I've never even met most of their parents. So I won’t be saying fond goodbye’s that night.

The only one I’ll be missing is my baby. But one has gone before her, and I know that I can call, text, email, Facebook and Skype. Multiple times a day. And as long as I’m paying her cell phone bill I can also have “Find My Friends”. Just a warning, honey-bunny.

Can I borrow your shoes?

Years ago a new neighbor moved in and complained to her friend that she was miserable because she hadn’t had a manicure since her move. Was she suffering? Absolutely not, but her perception was that she was going without something that she was used to, so she was unhappy. When my husband later asked why I had avoided forming a friendship with her, I said that she was a drama queen, and that he would not like her effect on me, should I start spending time with her. He was used to a rather “low maintenance” wife, and we both liked me that way.

Athletes push through pain to achieve greater results and say, “no pain, no gain”. Women know that labor pain is the price paid to bring new life into the world, and those who choose to give birth find it a price they are willing to pay. The hunger pains associated with missed meals are generally considered very unpleasant, but some religions “fast” to feel closer to God, a choice that sets aside discomfort to achieve a higher purpose. These people would probably not describe their experience as suffering.

American’s have watched from their televisions as celebrities such as Iman, Angelina Jolie, and Oprah Winfrey as well as churches, charities and even American Idol have brought aid and movie cameras to refugee camps and poor villages around the world. Movies, tv shows and commercials have shown us the bloated bellies and insect bitten bodies of children who look years younger than their actual age due to disease and malnutrition. But the truth is, as long as corrupt leaders steal the money that is sent for their personal use, or to fund their military, we’re “shoveling water with a pitchfork” to quote my favorite Peanuts cartoon.

Worldhunger.org reports that out of 925 million hungry people in the world in 2010, 239 million were in Sub-Saharan Africa. They claim that the three factors leading to increased numbers of hungry people since 1997 are “1) neglect of agriculture relevant to very poor people by governments and international agencies; 2) the current worldwide economic crisis, and 3) the significant increase of food prices in the last several years which has been devastating to those with only a few dollars a day to spend.” (2012 World Hunger and Poverty Facts and Statistics)

In June of 2011, the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) reported that an estimated 10 million people from parts of Ethiopia, Somalia, Kenya, and Uganda were suffering their worst drought in 60 years (UN News Centre, 28 June 2011, un.org) This, they say, has caused a severe food crisis, and increased the number of refugees to Kenya and Ethiopia to an average of 15,000 per month. They reported that almost half of the children arriving from southern Somalia were malnourished. The UN requested $525 million in aid for Kenya alone, but by the date of their report had received only about half that amount.

Droughts, famine, disease, poverty, lack of education, social customs and political corruption have all had long term and widespread effects on the region. The OCHA report stated that, “While conflict has been a fact of life for them for years, it is the drought that has taken them to a breaking point.”

Is the suffering less when one is surrounded by others in the same situation? Those who have lost a loved one often find comfort when someone who has suffered a similar loss shares their experience. Somehow, the similarity of the circumstance allows the burden to be eased by someone who understands. Does this phenomenon carry over to victims of starvation? If your older sibling already died, and another child lies beside you with a similar story to tell, does the situation become normal? Spinning the situation around, is it possible for someone with enough food, and living in a safe American suburb to suffer? Does the pain seem worse when surrounded by those who don’t appear to share the same circumstances?

"The word ‘starve’ is so emotionally loaded," said Dr. Perry G. Fine, vice president of medical affairs at Arlington, Virginia’s National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization. "People equate that with the hunger pains they feel or the thirst they feel after a long, hot day of hiking.” After 25 years in the field, Dr. Fine says that his patients have told him “that when they stop eating and drinking, there’s nothing unpleasant about it — in fact it can be quite blissful and euphoric." (Source: redOrbit (http://s.tt/160xM)). Granted, there is a huge difference between an end-stage cancer patient who chooses to stop eating and a child who has been malnourished their entire life and faces death by starvation, not by choice but by circumstance.

A couple of years ago I had a pain in my side for about a week before I finally went to the Emergency Room. After looking online, I thought that the only explanation for the mild discomfort I felt was appendicitis. The ER personnel stated that I was in much too good a mood to have appendicitis. I told them that I never felt labor pains with any of my three eight-plus pound babies until about an hour before giving birth, and that I thought I had a fairly high threshold for pain. It wasn’t until an MRI confirmed my suspicions that they rushed me to the OR for an emergency appendectomy. Circumstances that others typically find extremely painful have seemed quite bearable to me. Perhaps I’m wired differently, but I believe that pain and suffering are not absolutes, that perceptions can and do vary.

Teens today love to use the term “Drama Queen”, but who are we to judge how another perceives pain, whether physical, emotional, spiritual or social? So, to my daughter’s Facebook friend who says that a teen in the suburbs can’t possibly suffer, I say, just because you don’t understand or feel the same way, doesn’t mean that there is no pain. And sometimes, a lack of complaint doesn’t mean that aid is not needed, desired or deserved. The most common experience of mankind is that we all feel pain. What a better place this would be if we did not inflict it on one another.

My perspectives have collided

For years, my poor extended family has heard me criticize hunting, the NRA, the “right to bear arms” and any lifestyle or philosophy that includes owning or using firearms. But this week I have changed my tune. I guess it really dates back to 9-11. Ever since then, I support whatever it takes to keep the terrorists far away from me and mine. I think of it as a dose of reality, but maybe I just have more loved one’s to be concerned for, and realize that the safety I demand has its price.

Even though there have been several members of my immediate and extended family who have worked in law enforcement (including the military and federal government), I have not taken a lot of time to consider the ramifications to them, of my peace of mind.

Those who have sworn to protect and defend are never off-duty. In fact even when going to Disneyland with their family, in their plain clothes, our police officers are required by law to carry a concealed weapon and be prepared to step in if the need arises. So there is actually no such thing as a day off.

According to the FBI’s 1993 edition of “Law Enforcement Officers Killed and Assaulted”, an annual publication, 70 city, county and state officers were “feloniously killed in the line of duty”, and 66,975 were assaulted, while either on or off-duty, and enforcing the law. So why would anyone want to enter this line of work? Luckily, there are still those in our society who are not so selfish that they refuse to put others before themselves.

In 2009, an off-duty law enforcement officer was able to prevent a bank robbery inside my local grocery store. While doing his shopping, he heard the commotion as three suspects held up the bank. Because he was off-duty he was able to blend in with the rest of the shoppers. He confronted one of the robbers, who had headed down one of the aisles, with his concealed weapon. The suspect dropped the bag of money and fled. No one was hurt, all of the money was abandoned in the store, and the story had a happy ending.

I am lucky enough to live in a community that happens to house a lot of law enforcement personnel who actually work for the big city next door. When I moved here 17 years ago, I found out that my city is usually amongst the top five safest cities in America, for its size. It turns out that criminals don’t like to “work” where law enforcement “plays”. And that keeps me and mine safe.

However, there is both a risk and a real cost to that safety. When we built our home, we had a security system installed. It cost us roughly $1,500 to install, and currently runs about $75.00 per quarter to have monitored. Having moved to this “safe city” from another community where crime was exceptionally high, we felt it was money well spent. That’s my cost in dollars. Then there is the risk to law enforcement who would respond if my alarm went off. But here is the risk few ever contemplate: the risk assumed by the family of law enforcement. They know that mom or dad is at risk every day as they leave to go to work. But the rest of the family is at risk, too.

Many years ago my neighbor decided to go to law school. She enjoyed it, and decided to practice family law. The next thing I knew, there was a “For Sale” sign in her front yard. She had been counseled to move to a neighborhood with “gates”, because someone who might feel wronged by her work could target her home and family. Another friend, whose husband worked for the CIA, told me when I mentioned that her “gatekeeper” was more user friendly than the usual automated system, that her husband had been advised to live behind gates because of his profession. A schoolteacher said the same thing. We live in an increasingly violent world, and some of its inhabitants are targets.

How many law enforcement personnel have the income necessary to live behind gates? Especially for those just starting out, the pay is not that generous. But there is another risk that exists every minute that the officer is off-duty. That is the risk of having a firearm in the home. If officers are required by law to carry a concealed weapon whenever they leave the house, that means that the weapon needs to be loaded, safety switch off, and within reach at all times. That same gun is also within reach of their children. If the safety switch is on, the weapon is useless.

“Oh, please ignore me while I fumble around,” they might as well say to the bad guys.

How many crimes would be prevented that way? How many lives are saved each year because a cop was prepared? There are no statistics for that one, only those to tell us how many died. So what do you call an unarmed cop? Law Wishfulness?

Last weekend a police officer in Washington lost his 7 year old daughter when his three year old son accidently shot her with the officer’s concealed weapon. The children were waiting in the car while the parents stopped at the home of an acquaintance. While mom and dad were standing nearby, the little boy got out of his car seat, found the gun, and somehow it went off, killing his older sister. There is an investigation underway, but comments in the online news are vicious. One of the advantages to life in the burbs is that you don’t have to haul the whole crew out of the car just to ring someone’s doorbell. I have taken dinner to many a new mom, and told my kids to “wait in the car”. Or, had them wait while I took in the groceries. Or jumped out of the car to drop a video in the return slot. The list goes on and on. And I’m not alone. Everyone does it. Of course these scenarios are a far cry from leaving the kids in the car while going in to the store.

When my son was the same age, we were playing outside, in front of our apartment. There was a gated garden area, but years of neglect and several earthquakes had settled the fencing so that the gate could no longer be latched shut. I would loop wire coat hangers around the top of the gates to keep them closed, but the neighbors usually left the gates open. There was a daycare center across the four lane boulevard from us, and it caught my son’s attention. Before I knew what was happening, he was out the gate and running across the street. I was lucky. There was a lull in the traffic, and he was unharmed. Will you accuse me of being a bad mother now? Unless your pre-schooler is a passive lump, he is probably investigating everything he sees. We do all that we can, but accidents happen.

What will become of this public servant, who was voted by his fellow Police Academy students as the one they’d most like to serve with? Where is the crime? He is required to carry a concealed weapon in public places. On the way to a public place, does he need to holster it to stop at a private home? Are you always within arm’s reach of your toddlers? Kids do things, get into things. They’re curious, and we cannot always predict what they might do.

Here are the options, as I see them:

1. Only hire law enforcement personnel who have no children under the age of 18. The downside is we have a much older police force. Less quick on their feet, and fewer candidates to choose from. Most 40 year-olds already have chosen a career.

2. Don’t allow police to carry concealed weapons. Tell them to leave their “piece” at the office. Home will be safer, but forget going to the post office.

3. Realize that there is a risk to public safety, and when things go wrong we should offer our condolences, not criticism.

4. Move to England, where law enforcement carries no weapons, or Afghanistan, where those who criticize government personnel are shot.

Officer Carlile and his family have suffered the ultimate loss as a result of this accident. He was doing his job, as required by law, and has lost a sweet child, but there is no fault in an accident. Let’s share, then try to wipe his tears, not cause them.

Just Say No to Whirlpool

Last summer I was so excited to finally get rid of the cheap old builder's grade dishwasher that came with our house when we built it 17 years ago. I wanted a cool new stainless steel dishwasher, and my old, uncool, white one was finally (!) on it's last leg. I searched Consumer Reports and every dishwasher rating site I could find, and with my husband's price limit of $850.00, chose a Whirlpool 3600XTVY2. We shopped around and found the best price on it, and the next thing I knew, it was installed in my kitchen! Yipee!
Bummer number 1: It has a door mounted untensil rack. That translates to the utensils better be clean before they go in, because they won't get washed, just heat sanitized.
The real bummer: one year and three weeks after gracing my kitchen with it's beautiful presence, the thermostat went out. Or at least, that's when I noticed it. One lovely morning in early August, I was up before the rest of my summer vacationing family, and decided to unload the dishwasher. When I opened it up, one of the dinner knives still had butter on it. Double take. Who got up this early and buttered their toast, I wondered. No one. The dishes all appeared clean, so I took the knife out, washed it, and put everything away.
A day or two later, I opened the door to find mayonaisse on a knife. The thought crossed my mind that there might be a hidden camera and some secret capturing my reaction. But I know better than that! No, my 55 week-old dishwasher was already broken! Three weeks out of warranty and it's washing with cold water.
One, brief, phone call to Whirlpool confirmed that I was out of luck, no warranty, no help whatsoever. "Hey, sucker, wanna buy an oven to match that dishwasher?" But here my non-ficiton story turns to fantasy. A caped crusader called "Am Ex". I paid for that lousy dishwasher with my American Express card, and they have a FREE extended warranty program! Fifteen minutes later I had a claim number and an email thanking me for using "the card". And, instructions on how to get American Express to pay for the repair. I still had the original receipt, the Am Ex bill with the charge, and a copy of Whirlpool's warranty. All I needed was an estimate to repair the thing.
I made a phone call to my favorite repair service and made an appointment. A few days later good old Bob (who had previously repaired both my washer and my dryer) came out. No luck, couldn't repair it on the spot, it needed a new thermostat and .... a computer panel! He gave me an estimate, and I FAXed it off to AM Ex, who quickly okayed the estimated charge of just under $350.00. Almost half of the original purchase price. Oh well. If that's what if takes.
A couple of weeks later, my dishpan hands picked up the ringing phone, and I scheduled Bob's return. I should have bought stock in Lubriderm, because I'm keeping them in business trying to keep the skin from falling off of my hands.
But I'd made a fabulous discovery. Did you know that a broken dishwasher is also the world's largest, and most expensive dish drainer? Yep! Wash those puppies, rinse 'em off, and then they all fit in the dishwasher. Even the non-stick pans and butcher knife. I didn't even have to sort out the utensils : this one up, next one down. Pretty cool. How many people do you know with a stainless steel dish drainer that rolls back under the counter to dry? Fancy!
Bob came and Bob left. After two hours the darn thing still wouldn't heat the water. Bob wanted to take it in to the shop. "It must be the wiring", he said. Hmmmf! A few days later he was back with a dolly and I waved goodbye to my dish drainer.
One more week and Bob was back. Yippee skippy, no more dishpan hands! No more hole in my kitchen cupboard.
Two days later there was butter on the table knife in the morning. Again. That afternoon I turned the thing on and waited an hour before I opened it up and felt the water. Cold. Closed it up, hit resume and waited another hour. Cold.
Why does a dishwasher need a computer panel? So that as soon as it is out of warranty it can tell some random part to go "pouf" and stop working? My parents have lived in the same house for over 40 years, and have replaced their dishwashers twice. Once was for a remodel twenty four years ago. It's true. They remodeled their kitchen the year before I got married, and still have the same cherry wood paneled dishwasher. I wonder what brand it is?
Today I called Whirlpool back to see if they had any ideas about what I might do. I'm not allowed to talk to their technicians, only licensed repairmen can do that. All I get is Customer Service, which says, "would you like to make an appointment with a Whirlpool authorized repairman?" Who are they kidding? No thanks! It's not under warranty, so I'll get the priviledge of paying top dollar all over again. How do I know if I got faulty repair parts or if Bob misdiagnosed the problem. Remember, I've never had any problem with Bob and his parts before. GE and Maytag were simple fixes.
So what's the next step? American Express said to get good old Bob to FAX them a note saying that the dishwasher can't be fixed. Then, if I'm lucky, they'll reimburse me the remaining $500.00 for my dishwasher and I get to go buy another new one.
This time it won't be "Made in America", because that's the kiss of death for consumer products. Mr. Obama, do you want to know what's really killing the American economy? The poor quality of our products. I need to replace my American made van, and I'm looking at Japanese SUV's. And for the dishwasher, I'm thinking European.
Anything but Whirlpool.

Buon Natale

The idea was born a year ago when Scott Bateman asked me if I wanted Italilan cypress trees for the Christmas party. But last year was "Feliz Navidad". So, no Italian cypress for me. I mulled it over all year, and around the first of October the idea was born: buon natale!

As I browsed through ideas from other blogs, I found a photo that inspired me: long banquet tables lined up with red tablecloths and strings of Christmas lights above, scattered with paper lanterns. From there, I googled Italian Christmas traditions and menus, and came up with my plan. "Precipe Vivente", or live nativities somehow captured my interest. They sound like just the right combination of the department store window displays in Union Square that I remember from my childhood, and the community nativities that churches in Santa Monica put up in Palisades Park.

Our Ward building is one of the few that is actually architecturally beautiful. I do prefer Mediterranean architecture, but still, our building has niches, arches, courtyards and wrought iron that combine into my idea of beauty. The one thing the architect got right was the aesthetic! A torchlight procession to view live nativities, each scene in a niche on the side of the church building! I dreamt about it. I planned for weeks. Then I started passing around the sign-up sheets. Only two takers. The shepherds were taken care of easily, but how do you have a nativity without the "holy family"?

In the end, it all worked out. The Relief Society presidency created centerpieces with a neighbor's pine tree trimmings, some pinecones, vases with red mylar shreds, mini ornaments and, the real inspiration, a picture of the resurrected Christ. I was running around all day getting the last few things together, as the women worked. When I came back from Smart and Final with the peppermint and vanilla ice cream, the tables were done, and I saw the pictures of Christ. I blinked back tears. I knew that somehow it would work, and the Spirit would attend our party.

We had Parmesan chicken, pasta and salad for dinner, then everyone went into the chapel to sing Christmas carols until it was their turn to take a walk through the Christmas story.

For too many years, I have sat at the back of the cultural hall where I could neither see nor hear the Christmas program. So, as many people complained about having to go outside for the program ( come on, we live in southern California. Some Christmas days have topped 80 degrees!), I argued that with only 15 to 20 people per group outside, there would be no such thing as a bad seat, and the walk would be fast. The weather cooperated, and I got my way.

As the viewers visited each scene, starting with Mary's visit from the angel Gabriel, they were transported. We had costumes, scenery, music, and wisemen that questioned, "do you seek him?"

Finally, back inside, the most beautiful little naked baby was smiling in the manger while his angelic three year-old sister danced around the stage to harp music (dressed in Heather's old Santa Lucia nightgown), and their proud parents beamed. I thought that the audiance would come in from the cold, and smile and nod at the family as they made a bee-line for the homemade Christmas cookies and ice cream at the back of the cultural hall.

But I was wrong. They stood there, transfixed.

Scott turned the stage into an Eden. But the Morgan family elevated it to a glimpse of heaven.

And we had a party that started with Santa, but ended with the true meaning of Christmas: remembering Christ.

I've got sticky teeth

If today is Friday, there must be a football game. And if it's a home game I must make treats for the cookie table. And yes, it's Friday, and yes, it's a home game. So I decided to make popcorn balls for the first time.

First disclaimer: I LOVE carmel!

I searched the web, and found a recipe from Paula Deen on the Food Network site. It seemed to me that a chubby southern woman "of a certain age" should know how to make good popcorn balls. Now maybe it's because I love carmel as a flavor a whole lot more than corn syrup, but these were not tasty.

Second disclaimer: Paula Deen has failed me before.

I decided to document my cooking adventure just in case it was to die for. Instead, I've documented a failure. I'm an Einstein in the making! This is one way to NOT make popcorn balls.

I started by popping the corn in a cool kettle that we got as a gift many years ago. The corn had passed it's "best by...." date over a year ago, but with nothing to lose I used it anyway, and it turned out great! I picked out the duds, and to my surprise there were very few.

Next I started the syrup. The reviewers on Paula's site suggested adding a quarter cup of butter, which I happily did. I also left out one cup of sugar. OOPS! Half an hour later the syrup was still not at a softball stage. So I removed the syrup from the heat and added the sugar, stirring to dissolve it before returning the pot to the heat. A few minutes later it was at the soft ball stage, and I was on my way!

Cookie sheets lined with was paper: check

Wax paper sprayed with Pam: check

Popcorn sprinkled onto lined cookie sheets: check

I drizzled the syrup over the popcorn, greased my hands with shortening, and tried to mix the popcorn and syrup. Not check. The syrup puddled on the was paper, then cooled quickly and didn't want to scrape back up and coat the popcorn. I tired one reviewers tip and nuked the syrup. So that worked a little bit, but the stuff was just cooling too quickly.

third disclaimer: perhaps I was too busy with the camera to be thinking clearly...

Eventually I formed maybe 10 balls, and had a lot of popcorn leftover, and quite a bit of syrup stuck to the bowls, spoon, spatula and wax paper. Time to taste! My mouth was watering. The bite was perfect: crunchy popcorn with a soft, but not too sticky, glaze. Great bite, disappointing taste. It just has a thickened corn syrup taste.

Oh well, next time I'll use my carmel recipe and I'm sure I'll be much happier with the results. I just hope these things sell at the cheer squad's cookie table tonight at the football game.