One of the first Christmas presents given to me by my husband was a hand-crank pasta machine. Through the years this pasta machine has given us great joy from the wonderful pasta that comes from using it. Just one thing—although it was a gift to me, I have never used it! Rick makes all the pasta in this house. It just always seemed too fussy for me. But Rick likes to cook and he does it very well. He likes to make gourmet meals [we auctioned one off for United Way one year for $265.00 for four people] and I am usually the sous-chef. In other words, I get the chef a glass of wine, grate cheese, get ingredients out, do the washing up, etc.

We don’t eat much pasta anymore, but once in awhile we get a craving. One of my favorites is ravioli stuffed with ground veal, spinach, and Parmesan cheese. It’s sheer heaven. Just the smell of the veal and spinach mixture cooking on the stove is almost as good as eating it. You can bring up the memory of exactly how it tastes just by taking in the aroma wafting up from the pan. We used to have difficulty finding ground veal in grocery stores in Colorado, but here it’s as common as hamburger.

I’ve made a few small movies of the process with my new baby camera. I am thrilled at the quality!  The first one (imbedded in this entry below) shows making the sheets of pasta. The other two links are short clips showing the stuffing of the raviolis and the final step. I urge you to follow through and watch all three.

Once boiled, the raviolis are then put in a baking dish, topped with a very simple tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese, and baked in the oven just until the sauce bubbles.
Bon Appétit!

Check out my Bear Diary for a short movie of the bear’s visit from yesterday afternoon. They haven’t been since over a week ago, so I was glad to see them.

Well, it’s official: I am now truly a Jersey girl. I finally traded in my Colorado driver’s license for a New Jersey license. It was more than time for me to get a NJ license; I just kept putting it off. Rick has had his since about a month after we moved here. Thank you Reya, for allowing me to see that I was indeed holding on to my “old” life. I had not really even thought of it that way until you said something.

Since the 911 terrorists got their identification in New Jersey, they’ve made it harder for people to get a license. They have a system in place that requires you to have 6-points of identification. One 4-point document (such as a passport, birth certificate, marriage license) and two 1-point documents (like a driver’s license from another state, Social Security card, bank statement, etc.) It took Rick three different trys before he came up with what they needed. It was easy for me because we already knew what documentation to take.

And, our car Becky, is now registered in the state of New Jersey. We bought our car in Colorado before we moved and were cautioned by a well-meaning person that it would cost much more to put plates on here in New Jersey. So, we registered the car in Colorado to the tune of (you’re not going to believe this) $700.00!! How could NJ be more expensive than that, we pondered? We really should have checked into what it was going to cost here. We really should have. Last week it cost us $169.00 to get plates, and that was with the special scenery plates (a red-headed woodpecker). Go figure.

It’s been almost one year since we moved. In some ways it still feels like I’m on vacation. Other times I can’t remember what life was really like in Colorado. I have to admit that it felt very strange to hand over my Colorado license that I’ve been driving under for 30 years. Like a part of me was being taken away. Silly, isn’t it? It’s just a laminated piece of paper. So, I’m letting go.

Goodbye, Colorado: Hello New Jersey!

No one was more surprised than myself when I looked out the window into our back yard on Saturday, just after noon. I saw several large crows gathered around a large brownish “blob” in the yard. Looking closer I could see the brown blob was a very large bird—oh my—a turkey vulture! I ran for the camera and tried to quietly sneak out onto the deck.

There were two of them. One had its wings spread wide, just sitting on the ground; the other was busy eating something. I tried my best to be quiet, but they heard me and took flight. One flew into the woods, the other perched in our big oak at the edge of the yard and allowed me take some photos. After the vulture left, I went down to see what was so interesting. It had been pecking away at the marrow in one of the old dog bones!

I know most people think they are ugly with their featherless, naked heads, but they have a beauty all their own. You’ve got to admit they are awesome. Just look at that wing span!

I found this poem to go along with my images. I hope you enjoy it!

Turkey Vulture
by CB Follett

Black leather wings
spread to dry in the early sun,
they perch on fences like great bat-birds.

The naked rubber head: red, wrinkled.
Eyes piercing as Picasso’s,
tearing beak, their ripping claws.

But when they fly,
when they launch themselves
like a single feather

into thermals curved as the hills below
when they glide,
controlling the wind

they are air creatures
beautiful black sweeps across the sky
efficient, spectral, superb.

This gorgeous sycamore is just one of the old trees on the grounds of Ringwood Manor. The conditions were just right the other day when I drove by for catching its graceful white limbs against the clear blue sky.