It is a beeeaaauutiful morning here in Cowtown, Oklahoma...aka Coweta. The autumn sun is dancing through the branches of the pin oak tree outside my bedroom window, reflecting shadows in motion on my mini blinds. Forrest is up and around getting ready for school. He has the heart warming song, "Colder Weather", by the Zac Brown Band playing. I can't believe that kid is a morning person...he got it from his Dad btw, not me. When he toured he always found it ironic that he and his band mates would have to get up at 6:30 or 7:00 in the morning at times to play live and do morning radio station interviews. "Not rocker friendly hours", he would say. I was always glad he wasn't difficult to get up and drag off the tour bus for quick shower in the hotel. He could always milk cows, or work at a doughnut shop if the music thing doesn't work out. Both, wee hours of the morning jobs.
Speaking of morning people, which I'm not, I'm still laying in bed with my lap top propped up in front of my weary eyes. It's too warm and snugly to bail out hastily. I have to run several baskets of home baked goods to the high school this morning for Forrest's Senior class Project Graduation chili dinner and pie auction tomorrow. I love small towns and their pie auctions! Yes, I live in Mayberry... I felt like Aunt Bea yesterday as I was baking up a storm in the brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg scented kitchen.
Speaking of cinnamon. I was making homemade cinnamon rolls last week while my precious little toddler munchkin, Grandson Landon, was standing on a chair "helping" me. (Which in Grandma baking terms, meant he was spreading sugar and flour all over my floor.) Well, the poor little guy slipped on the chair and fell. He cried, I almost cried, and I rocked him to sleep quickly and went back to my rolls. After all day of letting the dough rise, punching it down, letting it rise again, rolling it out, and cutting them, I finally got them baking. I thought a certain scent was missing as they baked. I was correct. Between the commotion of Landon falling off the chair and the rocking to sleep stuff, I had completely forgotten to put the CINNAMON in the melted butter and brown sugar for the filling! I decided not to cry over un-spiced dough and poured cinnamon and sugar all over the top of the cream cheese icing. My family said they were the best cinnamon rolls they had ever eaten. Lesson learned... don't cry over spilled Grand babies...make them SIT at the table while they cover your kitchen with flour while your baking~~
Back to Forrest, I still cannot believe my son is a Senior. He's the baby of the family. Five years separates he and his younger sister Skylar. My daughter Jessica is six years older than him. They were always so good to him, never treating him as the annoying little brother as they grew up. They call him Bub. I think any sister that calls their brother Bub, has to be close. It's a term of endearment for sure. I'm proud to say, I haven't had to call him "Forrest Courtland French," too many times through the years. (That would be the, throw the middle name in there because he's in trouble, way to address him.) He's a good kid. He's eighteen years old and he's still my "kid"...he'll always be my baby.
I'm waiting for my contract from my publisher to come through any day now. I'm anxious and so proud to start the process of getting it printed and ready for sale to the public. In the meantime, "Aunt Bea" is going to run her pumpkin bread to the high school for the bake sale today, and help her daughter and Grandson move out onto some acreage with peach trees and a large, gorgeous, fish-stocked pond, this weekend. Our little Eddie Jett will have more room to grow~
Have a good day y'all!