Things that make me Smile

Hi, Amanda, It was great to catch up on the phone earlier. I'm glad I caught you at home; I am glad to know that things are ok with M, on his 16th birthday. Whoa. When'd that happen? (lol remember: Oh my goodness, how'd that happen?!?!?...reminds me of a funny student story to tell later.)

So, speaking of fairs and carnies and trailer trash...I remember now what I got busy doing right away this morning, and I have to laugh. My snob half blocked out of my mind that this morning I made sausage-cheese balls. Yes, I made circa 70s sausage-cheese balls a la Paula Deen. Except there's no butter in them. While surfing around the other day I saw a Betty Crocker recipe for them that looked easy and convenient-- you can freeze them uncooked or cooked and voila: appetizers at a moment's notice. (Sh*t, I wouldn't be above nuking a couple for breakfast.) Ingredients: bisquick, bulk sausage, shredded cheddar cheese, grated parmesan, milk, rosemary, parsley. When W is down next weekend and I have "my boys" over I thought a could do a couple of picky foods along with the chili I plan on making, and this seemed perfect. I made half a recipe (a little more than 4 dozen)--in case they weren't going to be good, although the pork product lover in me told me they'd be just fine. They were. I might opt for hot sausage next time (I used regular), but using regular gave me a good sauce idea. It suggested chili sauce or ketchup, but I think they'd be perfect with a salsa con queso. What goes better with cheese than cheese? More fat with fat? Ah well. You only live once. I'll let you know what the boys think. They'll be my test market.

*****
I have a student this year (in my challenging class, unfortunately, because her classmates are so immature) with autism. Recently they changed her diagnosis from Asberger's to highly functioning autism. She's on odd bird, but endearing. Last year she had several meltdowns (she's also OCD) but so far, so good. She's on meds now and doing better apparently. What I hear/see is loud monotone, occasional non-sequitor commentaries, but nothing disruptive. I spend more time worrying that the other kids are going to make fun of her than worrying about something she might say. Anyway, she was the last finishing up her test after the bell on Friday. While I was waiting for her pack up her things, I commented on her shirt--a Boston Red Sox shirt. I really did like it, because it didn't look like a sports shirt. It was cap-sleeve, white with green and yellow and orange lettering. When I complimented it she asked if I was a Boston fan, so I told her that living there for a dozen years pretty much guaranteed a love for life. "You lived in Boston?", she asked. "Get-the-f*ck-out!" Oh My God, A, it took everything not to laugh, to say, "no-f*cking-shit." Instead, I had to say, "Language..." God bless her, A. For the rest of my life I will think of that and smile.

While I was writing I thought of something else I wanted to share but I forget now. Guess I'll call it a night. I'll write again tomorrow.

Love,
Barb

PS The photos, as you can probably tell, are of my prized "Brass Cafe" sculpture. I'll tell the story another day.