Eating Punch

Gaby may never give me another recipe if I've messed up this one. With my doing my own measurements, I may have made more of a fruit dessert than a punch (to drink). Whatever, I can't stop eating it. I'm sure this is not what hers looks like. Notice the pecans I sprinkled over the top.
I'm thinking it would be good served hot with ice cream on top, like apple pie a la mode.

And it's so easy too. I hope to see pictures of the "real" punch now. Sorry if this is not the way it is supposed to be.

While I was in the kitchen, I took a few more pictures of some my favorite things since my camera is not quite as ornery as it was the other day.

Sweet salt and pepper shakers that will always remind me of my mother-in-law.
I like nutcrackers and have some of the traditional ones, but I couldn't resist this one.
This plate is the first of a collection started by my friend Joanne in 1982. She said the children reminded me of mine. She gave me several more through the years, and I found one in Warm Springs at an antique store and one on E-Bay. I'm not sure if they're still around or not.
Joanne died last year, and the plates make me think of her and the good times we had.


The Christmas cactus that acts so sulky the rest of the year and threatens to die has surprised me once more with it's beautiful blooms. There may not be many, but I'll take what I can get from it.

Putting it to shame is Gaby's flor de pascua. I thought it looked familiar. It's the same as our poinsettia which we hardly ever see except in pots. Can you imagine having one growing in your yard like this? Beautiful. My work week is ended, and I have lots of work to do. If I can find someone to bring down my tree from the attic, I'll get that done this week. Time is running out, but it's fine. No one will be here until the 22nd anyway, and if it's not down by then, I'll send Elise to the attic to get it and help me decorate. That sounds like a better idea anyway. Drinking wassail, listening to Christmas carols, decorating the tree, Mike sleeping in his chair. Just like old times.