I was just going to write about the gloriousness of caramel apples and state my plans to teach four preschoolers how to make them tomorrow. Then I realized that this is just my recent fall apple obsession being extended. They may not look as good as these tomorrow, but I plan to work out the kinks with the kids and make two somewhat like these for Mark and me later. We had a good friend give these to us a few Christmases ago, in lieu of the traditional plate of goodies, and wowie were they zowie! As for tonight, I'm just making myself sick eating too many caramels while I wait for Mark to get home . . . a pretty happy misery.Oh, and yes, the theme I chose to teach the kids about tomorrow is: apples. Geez, Emily! Johnny Appleseed, wiggling like worms, apple prints with paint, and the aforementioned delights.
3 comments:
Oooh, sounds great. Can I come?
Em,
ok, so I was kinda bord tonight so I "googled" myself. Let's face it,! we've all done it (or at least we all should, it's fun!) Anyway look what I found. I didn't even know you had written a story but I'm glad you did! It was fun to look back all these years later. Well... ok so it hasn't been
THAT long ago but still, you know what I mean.
Anyway enjoy!
The Boiseathon
Emily Taye Nolte, ’02, Orem, Utah
Our goal was to get to Boise in five hours. Melanie Wall Messerly, ’03, drove her tiny, two-door 1980s Tercel. Somehow we got our unlikely backseat passengers—Jenny Ikinokotta Sato, ’03, a wheelchair user, and Mel’s 90-year-old grandma, Alberta Mendenhall Hoover, ’32—over the front seats and situated.
Halfway we heard a “ka-thunk, ka-thunk.” Mel and I climbed out in the dark to investigate. A flat. We laughed at our luck as the December wind blustered around us. Semis barreled over the crest of a hill alongside us. We leaned in to reassure our stranded backseaters. Our trunk had been tediously packed to within 3 cubic inches of capacity. Unloading it got increasingly funny as the pile of wheelchair parts, suitcases, backpacks, and Christmas presents grew to 3 feet.
now, we were an hour behind schedule, and we’d hoped to arrive 10 p.m.
There weren’t any towns big enough or close enough where we could buy a new tire. We thanked the man who’d stopped to help us giving him a half-eaten pack of Hostess rolls. But now we were “not to exceed 50 mph” the rest of the way.
Watching sagebrush is pretty monotonous during the day, but at night and at 50 mph, it’s even worse. Our only CD was a kooky mix of pseudo-Christmas songs. I couldn’t have changed it anyway, with my viola straddled between legs and my arms perched atop a wheelchair wheel. (I think around 2 a.m. I began to have delusions that the sagebrush weeds were my friends. We’d just finished finals, so that was understandable.)
Mel was the only one who could drive a stick, but after 11 hours and with 50 miles left to go, she begged me to take over. The adrenaline rush I got from being coached how to drive on a freeway at 2 a.m. kept me mostly awake until we arrived.
A little after 3 a.m. we finally tooled into Boise. Being of pioneer stock, Grandma Hoover climbed out without complaint. Jenny thanked us for the ride. I think we had listened to the “Song of the Elves” 13 times.
I'm all about your apple craze! Good thing you are the pregnant one this year and not me!!! Caramel dip is 99 cents at Fiesta...Makes 12 apples and saves you from having to unwrap those darn little sweets that don't seem to make it in the pot!! You will forever be my apple buddy. Every fall I will remember the lady who could have drowned in the apple barrels!
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