Popular Posts – Page 3

Simple {Nearly} Messless S’mores

S’mores are fun, but let’s face it. They’re messy!

Here’s a simpler version that won’t get quite as many stains on the shirts and goo in the hair.

Ingredients:

Cookies with a hole in the middle and chocolate on at least one side. From here on out they will be referred to as “striped dainties,” because that’s what we called them when we were small and couldn’t read the boring name on the package.
Jet-Puffed marshmallows. This is not the time to be skimpy and buy the cheaper varieties. They are not as good! We’re talking s’mores here, people! Step up to the plate!
A stick or poker that will fit through the cookie hole. The double mallow roasters won’t work here, nor will the self-rotating triple or quadruple mallow contraptions.

Directions:

1. Select the cookie that calls your name and “thread” the stick through the center hole with the chocolate-covered side facing away from you. This cookie is covered in chocolate on both sides, so use your imagination.

2. Run the cookie down toward the handle of your roasting stick.

3. Find just the right marshmallow…not too sticky, not too firm.

Oops.

Find just the right marshmallow again and spear it with the stick.

4. Roast that marshmallow to perfection.

5. Now it’s time for the removal and sandwiching. I like to combine this step into one smooth move, while my husband prefers to defy gravity with his impeccable balance skills.

If I were doing this, I would at this point place my second striped dainty on the stick with the chocolate side facing the mallow, and then proceed as my man indicates.

Move the striped dainty from the bottom of the stick toward the marshmallow, and slowly push it and the mallow off the end of the stick. Ignore the dog in the background saying, “Drop it, drop it, drop it.”

Perfect!

6. If you haven’t already, sandwich that baby!

Done…almost.

There’s this one last step:

7. Eat it!

You can also eat them open-faced.

Take s’mores to another level with other chocolate-covered cookies instead of grahams. Obviously, cookies without holes can’t be threaded onto the stick, so there’s more hand/mallow contact. I’m thinking that if you cared about hand/mallow contact, you probably wouldn’t be eating s’mores.

Open up an Oreo and pop a mallow inside—licking the cream out first is optional. Or try mint cookies—it’s like a trip to the moon without the G-force.

Why is this “better” than traditional s’mores?

Scientifically, when compressed by the top element, the mallow has someplace to go besides oozing out the sides of the cracker sandwich. Some of it pushes up through the hole while some pushes toward the edges. This way, you have less sideways mallow displacement and better overall mallow coverage for a proper mallow/cookie/chocolate ratio in each bite.
You have to buy and deal with one less ingredient.
The chocolate melts every time.
The chocolate does not drip out all over your daughter’s pale yellow shirt and stain it forever because you’re out of stain remover and the shirt somehow gets stuffed into the bottom of the sleeping bag and lost for three months.
It’s a cookie. Cookies are good.
They’re less messy…although admittedly not mess-free.
It isn’t as intensely rich as a traditional s’more, believe it or not, so you can eat more. That might not be a good thing.
Circles are fun.
You can obtain complete cookie coverage with one mallow.
Your s’mores world opens up to dozens if not hundreds of variations.
It’s fun…more fun than a box of graham crackers.

Please note the unmelted chocolate, the mallowy face, and the massive sideways mallow displacement in the following pictures.

Please note: This does not work with cauliflower.

Special thanks to my s’mores team for enduring two nights of s’mores experimentation. I know it was a strain!

What’s your best s’more recipe or tip?

The Best Day of Her Life

We stood clustered in a small group listening to the exuberant man with the dynamic voice and the red hair. He talked about wonderful days–being born, getting confirmed, graduating, getting married, having children–wonderful days. Then he–the man with the big voice and the even bigger faith–said this:

“This is the happiest day of your life. This is the day you have been waiting for. This is your best day ever.”

And as he spoke of joy and celebration, I tried and failed to hold back my tears. As he spoke of life, my Grandma slipped away from our feeble attempts to hold onto her a little bit longer.

On this, the happiest day ever, Grandma died.

As I summarized Grandma’s full, rich life in an obituary that wouldn’t use up her entire life insurance policy for the space it took up in the papers, and also that wouldn’t reduce her generous spirit and faithful journey to a bland recitation of dates and achievements, I thought about that “best day of her life.”

I could have (and maybe should have) written this:

“Marie was born and baptized, was taught about her Savior, lived her life as a fallen and forgiven believer who trusted in Christ, and, best of all, she died.”

Best of all, she died.

I, on the other hand, didn’t die.

I’m right here, living. I’m here, sick with who-knows-or-cares-what, with four children sleeping in my room because the next room over is too far away. I’m here nursing and worrying over and trying not to breathe my sick-germs on a two-week-old baby who peed on me three times last night and threw up inside my nightshirt and I didn’t even bother to change. I’m here trying to deal with the needs of people who–quite honestly–seem unnecessarily needy right about now: you think you should eat today?

I’m here trying to heal hurts that won’t heal and sooth a pain that will be torn afresh at every reminder. I’m here helping family decide if 100-plus people should eat mashed potatoes or potato salad, calling strangers to share the news, plunking out potential funeral hymns on the piano, reducing Grandma’s life to dates and achievements for the paper, and–strangely–really missing my grandpa who died last year.

I’m here hurting for my mother and uncles who lost the woman who gave them life, hurting for my brothers who were too far away to hold a hand and hear Pastor talk about Grandma’s best day ever, hurting for my children who are so young and hurt so openly.

I’m here failing as a wife and mother because my thinking is clouded by pain, and that failure makes me want to crawl in that bed with Grandma and go with her–go to see Grandpa, go to see if heaven is paved with streets of gold or lined with Eden-like carpets of grass, go to taste the cookies there, go to see Jesus and not have to fail or hurt any more ever again.

My living doesn’t hold a candle to Grandma’s dying.

I’ve heard death described as a birth. Our Little Judah Eb was resistant to being born. Despite many, many days of nightly labor, he was eight days late. Even then, he was happy to not come out, even though he had “outgrown” his old life. I wonder if he was scared–all the pressure, the squeezing, the estimated 750 million people putting their faces to Mama’s belly and hollering “Come out now!”

But then there he was, his old life was gone and his new one was just begun, and there was Mama’s face, and there were Mama’s arms, and there were Mama’s eyes pooling over with love, and there was–whoa, what’s this?!–milk! It’s pretty good on the other side. What he had resisted became his best day thus far–I mean, milk! Hello!

We resist death–our best day ever–but why?

Let’s look at what Grandma is probably doing right now. She was a relatively new widow who died one day before her 67th wedding anniversary. Living the last year without Grandpa was hard for her. She missed him something awful. She didn’t acknowledge her 66th anniversary, because he had just gone to heaven ahead of her, and she didn’t have the heart. Can you imagine the celebration they had this year?

She’s reunited with her parents, her father who loved his little “Moonie” like a father should, her brother who was killed in action in World War II and whose death shook her hard even 70 years later, her mother and sister. She’s seeing cousins and friends and her mother’s seemingly infinite number of sisters who were always filled with joy and who would get together and laugh and laugh and laugh and then simultaneously sigh out loud as if that laugh was the best thing that ever happened to them–I can almost hear the great-great aunts laughing now. What a reunion! Can you imagine?

The beauty, the sounds, even the feel of the air and the ground must be new and amazing and indescribable. The food, the ethereal light, the graceful slipperiness of the water, the delicate scent of the flowers, and the soft coolness of the breeze–can you imagine?

And then Him. His face. His hands that were pierced for us, for Grandma to enjoy her best day ever–strong hands, yet gentle and forgiving as He reaches for a hug. His lips as he says, “Well done, Marie. Well done.” His eyes–the depth and kindness and knowing of those eyes. Can you even begin to imagine those eyes?

It’s Grandma’s best day ever, and it will last for eternity. Can you imagine? I can’t.

This is only Grandma’s best day ever because of her faith in Christ. There was nothing she did to earn heaven–goodness knows Grandma had her fair share of flaws. Despite how wonderful Grandma was, she wasn’t “good enough” for heaven’s standards and never would be if she lived Adam’s 900+ years. People like Grandma and me–we’re not Christians because we’re better than everyone else; we’re Christians because we’re not good enough and we couldn’t possibly earn a best day ever on our own.

It is all Jesus–He took Grandma’s punishment and gave her salvation; all she did was trust Him and “it was credited to her as righteousness.” I heard someone say, “If you don’t have faith in Jesus, you’d better live it up now, because this is as good as it’s going to get.” As harsh as that sounds, it’s true. No Jesus–no best day ever when you die. Period.

But the rest of the story is that the gift of the best day ever is free. You can have an eternity like Grandma’s. Jesus (God) did all the work for you. Just trust Him. (Learn more by reading John or Romans or ask me.)

Grandma (and Grandpa), I miss you. You both were and are such a crucial part of my life. Someday, on my best and happiest day ever, we’ll be together again–you and me and the laughing aunts and Him with those eyes.

Originally posted here on August 24, 2015. Reposted today in honor of Grandma’s birthday.

PORTRAIT BY MARISSA RENÉE (17 at time of drawing, currently accepting commissions)

How to Fry an Egg

This post contains affiliate links and an egg-frying technique. Beware.

Embarrassing Confession: Until last month I couldn’t fry a decent egg to save my family. Life wasn’t always so grim. I used to fry eggs just fine. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but that didn’t seem to matter. I had a pretty good egg-frying track record. I temporarily thought I was endowed with a little extra magic in the kitchen or maybe a bit of beginner’s luck. Then somehow, I lost my egg-frying abilities. It was a sad ~~day~~ fifteen years. I now know it wasn’t beginner’s luck or talent that landed the rare identifiable egg on my hubby’s plate–it was just God offering my hungry husband a little mercy.

Now, however, I can fry an egg like a pro because I learned from the pros. You may think this is no big deal and a ridiculous post, but I can guarantee you there is a Frustrated Someone out there searching “How to fry a stinkin’ egg already!” I get you, Frustrated Someone. I totally get you.

I learned how to fry a stinkin’ egg (and do other amazing-to-me things in the kitchen) from the book my hungry husband gave me for Christmas, entitled The America’s Test Kitchen Cooking School Cookbook: Everything You Need to Know to Become a Great Cook. It’s a big title and an even bigger book.

In case you think my husband’s a big fat meanie, I requested the book after one too many broken eggs and dry roasts.

Anyway, this really isn’t about the book. It’s about how to fry a stinkin’ egg already! (This is a bad picture of my stinkin’ eggs, but when you live in a trailer and shoot with a cell phone, it’s how egg pictures look. Trust me that the rest of my eggs looked much better than the eggs in this picture, but we were so excited that I was making consistently (instead of randomly and rarely) awesome eggs that we ate the stinkin’ things with no pictures.)

How to Fry a Stinkin’ Egg

(According to America’s Test Kitchen, with some additions from l’il ol’ me)

What You Need:

non-stick pan–8 or 9 inches for 2 eggs, 10 inches for 4 (I just use what I have)
butter–about 1.5 teaspoons per 2-4 eggs (3 teaspoons is a tablespoon–memorize it)
stinkin’ eggs–2 per person is reasonable, eh?
spatula (turner)
timer

What You Do:

Heat the pan over medium-high heat for five minutes. Set your timer.
Meanwhile, crack the eggs on a flat surface, not on the edge of the bowl or pan. Why not? Because minuscule egg shell fragments may be forced into the egg, and you won’t see them and then you’re swallowing little shell shards and making your intestines cry. Nobody wants weepy intestines.
Put the eggs in a cute little bowl, two eggs to a bowl. If you’re making four eggs, use two bowls. That way the eggs all go in at the same time and get done at the same time. Eggs like everything to be fair.
After the pan has been heating for five minutes, toss the butter into the pan. When I say toss, you know I mean place gently, right?
Tip the pan to melt the butter and coat the pan. The butter should melt in under a minute. If it takes longer than a minute, your pan is not hot enough–heat it longer. If your butter burns during that minute, your pan is too hot–start over, and, uh, it’s okay to cry a little, too. I mean, it’s butter!
Gently tip the cute little egg-bearing bowls and gently deposit the eggs into the properly heated pan. Don’t plop them in from the heavens. Get down in there.
Hurry scurry like a little bunny and salt and pepper those babies, unless your preschooler is eating them and doesn’t like pepper. Test Kitchen Guru says 4 parts salt to one part pepper. I just shake-a shake-a, but remember, my husband is a hungry man.
Quickly cover the pan to maintain the temperature. If your pan doesn’t have a cover, do what my brother does and plop a cookie sheet on top. If your cover has a little steam vent, don’t do what younger and dumber me did and plug the vent with your finger. Moving on.
Cook for 2 minutes, and then do a quick peek to check the eggs to see if they are to your liking. “Done” means the membrane over the yolk is white. If you like the yolk hard, cook it longer. I’m more of a 3.25-minute egg girl myself. I also like peanut butter on my eggs, so you shouldn’t go by my likes.
At this point you have some options. My mom adds a splash of water to the pan to steam the eggs and cook the tops better. I flip some of my eggs when they’re nearly done and firmly set, because the people I feed like the yolks better that way. Test Kitchen Guru leaves them alone. You, Frustrated Someone, can choose.

That’s it. It’s really simple. Still, I’m going to talk on. These next points are embarrassingly obvious, but if you’re reading this to learn how to fry an egg, Frustrated Someone, you and I need people to point out the obvious. There’s no shame in that. No shame.

Please don’t overcook your eggs. You can always cook them a little longer, but you can’t uncook them, unless you call giving them to your dog and starting over uncooking.
Toast your bread while you’re waiting.
Have softened butter available to spread on your hot toast. Well-buttered toast helps ease the pain in case your egg fry fails. I like to pop my toast in the pan after I pull the eggs out.
Use a really good skillet. While I’m all about taking accountability for your actions, you really can blame this failure on the tools.
Don’t get distracted by a four-year-old and the word “eggs” and go off and read Green Eggs and Ham and forget that you’re frying eggs. That’s what timers are for! Also, seriously, never leave the stove unattended and scamper off on an outdoor adventure and have to call the house from the back 40 to ask someone to take your stinkin’ eggs off the stinkin’ burner and feed them to the ~~stinkin’~~ dog who will be very sad you’re finally learning how to cook in a way that people will eat it.

In summary:

Preheat pan for five minutes.
Add butter.
Gently add eggs.
Season.
Cover.
Cook.
Check.
Serve.

Go for it, Frustrated Someone! Go fry an egg!

Now, I know you must have a cooking challenge of your own. If you share it in the comments, I would be happy to look it up in my cool fun new Cooking School book and write about it. So happy!

The Value of a Homemaker

It saddens me when I speak to women who feel they are not contributing to their families or to society if they do not bring home a paycheck. Some believe their contributions need to be measured monetarily to be of value. Others are nagged with guilt at the thought of their degrees growing dusty on a closet shelf, while they pack lunches or potty train toddlers.

Even though the thriftiness of a conscientious wife goes a long way toward enabling her husband to support the family, some women frequently see themselves as not contributing financially to the family, and society will too often second that view.

Why is this?

Why do women fall for the lie that a woman needs to succeed in the same arena as a man in order to be successful. Why should her immeasurable worth be defined and therefore limited by a paycheck?

Imagine!

Imagine, for a moment, how blessed a husband can be by a wife who tends lovingly to his needs and makes wise use of the money he brings home. Imagine how much more successful that husband will be both in his career and at home, with a caring and supportive wife beside him. Imagine, from a financial aspect, how much farther that husband’s paycheck can go if there is a frugal and conscientious wife at home, making every penny of her man’s hard-earned money really count!

Imagine the joy of having a mother who is always available to explore and play and bake cookies with her children? Imagine what a great contribution to society those confident and well-raised children will become because they had a mother who took the time to teach them that life does not revolve around pleasing themselves and their peers, but around serving each other. Just imagine!

If you stay at home and tend your brood and your husband, do not undermine your contribution to society and to the kingdom of Christ! Your value cannot be measured in dollars and cents.

Your worth is far above rubies!

I’d love to hear your polite thoughts in the comment section.

My Simple “Ten Things” Strategy

Sometimes life is overwhelming and everything just seems…complicated, which is the opposite of simple. I’m totally not on board with complicated. Away from me, Complicated!

When my life is feeling complicated and I don’t know where to start, I turn to my little bag of simple tricks. One of my favorites is my ridiculously simple, but highly effective “Ten Things” Strategy. It goes like this. Pay attention now.

Do ten things.

That’s it! That’s the whole strategy.

You could stop reading right now and go do ten things, or you could ~~procrastinate~~ hang out here and let me break it down for you. Hangin’ around? Okay. Here’s the gist of my simple “Ten Things” Strategy.

If your backside is plastered to the couch, tell your backside, “Listen up, Backside. You can do ten things. You really can!” Backside may whine a little, but eventually it comes around and says, “Hey, you may be right about that. Let’s do it!” (Please tell me you have conversations with your backside, too.) Between the two of you (you and Backside, that is), you can quickly blast through ten things.

Sometimes doing ten things doesn’t make much of a difference, but if you and Backside work smart, those ten things can really add up.

Here are ten ways to be smart about my simple “Ten Things” Strategy.

1) Do ten simple things that make a big difference, like picking up the big blankets on the floor in the family room, or making the bed in your bedroom or putting ten big things in the dishwasher or picking up the ten biggest toys in the playroom.

2) Enlist your children. When I enlist all of my kiddos, that’s 8 people at work. That means 73 things gets done or picked up or folded or washed. (That’s 73 instead of 80 because the one-year-old can only count to three, so she stops there.)

3) Don’t give it too much thought. If you’re a TV watcher, hop up as soon as the commercial hits or the Netflix episode ends and do your ten things. If you walk into your bedroom and it isn’t inviting, quickly do ten things and then continue with your day.

4) Just do it, even if (or especially when) you don’t feel like it. If you’re just feeling blah and you want to ignore the mess in the kitchen and eat hot popcorn with chocolate chips melted in it, throw ten things in the dishwasher first, or clear ten things off the table. Whatever!

5) Let your progress fuel you. Sometimes (like in my alternate reality) there are only twelve things that need to be done. When I get through ten, I find myself motivated to do the last little bit.

6) Listen to your body, but don’t listen to your body if you’re in a funk. In other words, if you’re really hurting, pick up ten dirty socks and call it a day. If you’re just feeling unmotivated and whiny, pick up all the dirty socks and call it one thing–the dirty socks.

7) Apply this to anything–a pile of paperwork, a full email inbox, messy bedrooms, garage sale items needing pricing, unfolded laundry, lonely socks looking for soulmates, bushy eyebrows, unwrapped presents, thank you notes, dusty knick-knacks (no knick-knacks, no dust…just sayin’), fund-raiser phone calls, push-ups needing pushing.

8) I’m not above bribery. When my backside is feeling particularly unmotivated, I say, “Hey ,Backside, we do ten things, we’re eatin’ ten M&Ms.” It’s not pie, but it works.

(If you’re one of my food nazi friends (love ya!) cringing at the thought of my eating ten M&Ms, two things: 1, I don’t eat M&Ms because they make my stomach hurt and cause the air around me to turn a rather unpleasant shade of green (a humiliating, but amusing post for another day), and 2, chill. Still love ya.)

9) For a bigger impact, do ten things in ten areas of your life. Do ten things in the bedroom, bathroom, office, purse, sock drawer, email inbox, junk drawer, garage, van, laundry room, piano bench, spice cupboard, junk drawer, pantry, tool box, play room. That’s pretty intense. Usually I stick to ten simple things.

10) Use the ten things strategy in reverse to keep your playtime in check. “I will only pin ten things, read ten blogs posts, eat ten cookies (What?! They’re little!), chat on the phone for ten minutes, read ten pages.” Mmmm…cookies.

My “Ten Things” Strategy is so ridiculously simple, that it really didn’t need a ten step expose. Still, that was fun, wasn’t it? Yup, fun over. Now it’s time for you and Backside to get down to business. Now, right now, let’s get up and do ten things. (Eating ten cookies doesn’t count.) Ready? Break!

For Monday through Friday “Do Ten Things at Ten” reminders and fun, join me on Facebook or Twitter. Are there cookies? You’ll just have to find that out for yourself.

Did you do it? Did you do ten things? What’d ya do?

An important note: After reading the comments from some of my Simple Homemaker Facebook friends and Twitter tweeps who are doing a daily Ten Things Challenge with me, I’m noticing some confusion. When I say “Do Ten Things!” I do not mean these ten things:

Clean the bathroom until it shines, AND
Cook dinner…for a month, AND
Do all the laundry in the house…or neighborhood, AND
Change the tire on your car, AND
Mow the lawn, AND
Run for President, AND
Get your doctorate, AND
Write lesson plans for your child’s entire educational career, AND
Get married and have children, AND
Get therapy.

I mean something more like this:

Wash ten dishes, OR
Pick up ten toys, OR
Trim ten little toenails, OR
Address ten Christmas cards, OR
Tackle ten things in your paperwork pile, OR
Fold ten things from the clean laundry basket that’s become a permanent household fixture, OR
Put away ten things from the dishwasher, OR
Put away ten things on the kitchen counter, OR
Pick up ten things on the family room floor, OR
Dust ten things on the mantle (which, by the way, you would never have to do if you didn’t have ten things on the mantle, you know. Less is more because less is less dust, less work, less clutter, which means more time, more fun, more living!).

Please don’t feel like I’m telling you to work for an hour or wear yourself out. This is a simple strategy to make a little dent in a big project or to extinguish a hot spot or to tidy up a small mess. It’s simple! Of course, if you can and want to, go ahead and run for President and get your doctorate this morning…but don’t feel you have to. Are we clear? Good! Now go do ten simple things!

Very Simple Rhubarb Pie Recipe

This delicious rhubarb pie recipe is not the healthiest item on the menu, but it sure is one of the tastiest, and hey, it’s a vegetable! It’s simple, it’s pie…what’s not to love?

It’s rhubarb season! If you’ve got this “weedible” (edible weed) growing like crazy in your yard, I’ve got a deeelicious recipe for you.

This rhubarb pie recipe uses white sugar and white flour, two things that rarely make an appearance in my kitchen. But hey, it’s got rhubarb in it, and rhubarb is a vegetable, so…there ya go.

Before we proceed, you are aware, are you not, that the leaves of rhubarb are poisonous. Just use the stalks. Pretend you knew that, if you didn’t.

The original recipe is from All Recipes. Ours is only ever-so-slightly different.

Simple Rhubarb Pie Recipe

Ingredients

4 (hefty) cups fresh rhubarb, cut into 1/4-1 inch pieces
1 1/3 cups sugar (scant)
6 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 double pie crust

Directions

Position the bottom crust in the pie pan
Combine sugar and flour in a small bowl. (They get along well, so this is simple.)
Sprinkle a layer of flour/sugar in the bottom crust.
Pile the rhubarb in the crust.
Sprinkle the rest of the flour/sugar over the top.
Cut the butter into little pieces and place them on the rhubarb.
Add the top crust. Crimp.
Bake at 450 for 15 minutes on the bottom rack.
Lower the temperature to 350 and bake another 35-45 minutes, depending on your oven.

Tips

Cut your rhubarb the size you prefer. I like mine “mushy” and small, but others prefer rhubarb slightly firmer and a little bigger. Your call!

Serve warm or cold with ice cream or without. Call it a veggie and serve in place of dinner or breakfast.

A regular pie pan is sufficient; do not use a deep-dish.

If the crust starts browning too quickly, wrap aluminum foil around the edges.

Place a cookie sheet directly under the pie pan in the oven to catch any drips. If you forget to do this, be sure to offer the firemen a nice warm slice of fresh rhubarb pie.

If you’re on a diet (ugh) or a “plan,” this probably doesn’t fit perfectly…or at all…so just pin it for ~~after you’ve fallen off the wagon~~ your free days. Hey, I’m on a plan, but I’m a realist, so I’ve got your back. Wink.

Reviews

A picky husband: My mouth really likes it, but my eyes can’t get past the fact that it looks like celery pie. (Our rhubarb was mostly green, not red.)

A teen: This pie is a success!

A four-year-old: I ate all the ice cream.

The Simple Homemaker: I can’t eat dairy or sugar, but snuck a sliver of this pie anyway, and oh my! Fantabulous!

Here’s the boring printable version:

Simple Rhubarb Pie Recipe

Recipe Type: Dessert

Author: The Simple Homemaker

Prep time: 30 mins

Cook time: 45 mins

Total time: 1 hour 15 mins

Serves: Me

A simple pie that sweetens the tang of rhubarb for a delicious dessert.

Ingredients

4 (hefty) cups fresh rhubarb, cut into 1/4-1 inch pieces
1 1/3 cups sugar (scant)
6 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 double pie crust

Instructions

Position the bottom crust in the pie pan
Combine sugar and flour in a small bowl.
Sprinkle a layer of flour/sugar in the bottom crust.
Pile the rhubarb in the crust.
Sprinkle the rest of the flour/sugar over the top.
Cut the butter into little pieces and place them on the rhubarb.
Add the top crust. Crimp.
Bake at 450 for 15 minutes on the bottom rack with a cookie sheet under the pie pan to catch drips.
Lower the temperature to 350 and bake another 35-45 minutes, depending on your oven. Cover the edges with aluminum foil if it gets dark too quickly.
Serve warm or cold.

A great big thank you goes out to Lynn from Jackson, Wisconsin, for supplying us with rhubarb (and a rhubarb coffee cake)!

Let me know if you try this simple rhubarb pie recipe, and feel free to share your favorite rhubarb recipes here!

How to Wash a Pillow the Simple Way

I recently read an article in All You Magazine (prime bathroom literature, my friends) which claimed that after two years, 1/10 of the weight of your pillow is made up of dust mites and their waste…as in itty bitty little dust mite poo.

That’s kinda gross.

I have had the same pillow for, hmmm, let’s round down to 10 years, so if every two years 1/10 of the weight is replaced by mites and mite-poo, and I’ve had mine for 10 years, that 10 divided by 2 times 1/10 equals…ewwww…50%.

Even with my faulty math, that almost makes me want to buy a new pillow.

But I love my buggy, pooey pillow.

Lucky for me, the article was kind enough to explain how to wash a pillow, a bit of information I am kind enough to pass on to you, in case you, too, love your buggy, pooey pillow.

How to Wash a Pillow

Check the washing instructions. Most pillows are machine-washable. (If mine says it is not machine washable, I wash it in the machine anyway. Yes, even feather pillows…but you most certainly did not hear that from me. The only exception in my home is very old pillows that will not survive the process, or those, like my son’s with more holes than casing due to a few too many pillow fights.)
Wash two normal-sized pillows or one jumbo pillow at a time to keep your machine balanced. You don’t want it doing a fox-trot across the floor.
Set your machine to the longest, hottest cycle.
Use liquid detergent, since, supposedly, powder detergent leaves a residue. I can’t imagine why someone who’s been sleeping on a pound of dust mite poo would care too much about a little detergent residue, but, I guess dust mite poo is “all-natural,” so, there ya go.
Run the pillows through the rinse cycle twice.
Toss the pillows in the dryer with a couple tennis balls or dryer balls to fluff them up and speed up the drying process.
Dry your pillows completely at medium-high or high heat until dry. It may take several cycles. Check the pillows between each cycle, and consider letting your dryer rest for half an hour between cycles so it doesn’t burn out. Yup, it happens. Boo.
Be sure the pillows are completely dry by squeezing them with your hands to feel for moisture. Optionally, squeeze them with a paper towel. If any moisture shows up, pop those babies back in the dryer. It is not unusual for the drying process to take 3-4 hours.
Use an allergen pillow case from here on out to prevent a reinfestation of mites and their poo.

I think I said the word “poo” far too much in this post.

Check out the comment section for some helpful questions and answers.

Do you have any tips for how to wash a pillow?

Also, I am happy to tackle any other obscure homemaking tasks you’d like demystified. I warn you, I don’t “homemake” by the rules, but I’m happy to answer questions…the simple way.