Dorothy's Blog

Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake Creativity

dorothywilhelm — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 05:23:26 +0000

Now everybody knows that one way to exercise creativity is to do something you often do in a whole new way. So one of my favorite new games is to take a box mix and make a whole new dish. I’m not sure how really really creative it is, but it certainly is tasty. I’ve been promising I’d give my Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake recipe. So here it is.
Start with 1 Package of Betty Crocker Original Supreme Brownie Mix (with chocolate syrup
pouch)
3 Tablespoons butter or margarine, melted
2 8 oz packages cream cheese, softened
1 1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
1 21 oz can cherry pie filling
1. Heat oven to 350. Stir together 1 1/2 cups of dry brownie mix and the melted butter. Press into bottom of ungreased springform pan, 9X3 inches, or square pan, 9X9X2.
2. Beat cream chees in large bowl with electric mixer on medium speed about 2 minutes.
Scrape bowl frequently, til smooth. Add remaining brownie mix, the whipping cream, and the chocolate syrup from brownie mix. B eat on medium speed until smooth. Pour over crust in pan.
3. Bake 45 to 50 minutes for sprngform pan, 35 to 40 minutes for square pan, or until set. Cool 20 minutes. Run metal spatula along side of cheesecake to loosen before and after refrigerating. Spread pie filling over cheesecake. Cover and refrigerate until chilled. At least 2 hours. Cover and refrigerate any leftover cheesecake.

I am proud to say that this is a picture of exactly the way this cake came out. I don’t think you could do it often but it’s very appetizing and pretty.

Creativity – older is better

dorothywilhelm — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 05:41:30 +0000

I came across some good news today in an old Newsweek magazine. A study by Dr. Gene Cohen director of Center on Aging, Health & Humanities at George Washington University.
He did a study of 150 adults ages 65 to 100 that found that people engage in community based art programs were healthier after one year than a control group. Creativity is essential as we
get older. My old Uncle Ben lived to be 104 and he square danced until he was 102, and ate
a sandwich made of fresh Italian bread and sauteed hot peppers up to and including the day he died. We have nothing to lose and so it makes for ways to involve ourselves in creative activities
- and have a little fun. You see, Uncle Ben stopped dancing because he went to the hospital for a simple test and two attendants dropped him and broke his hip. So let’s stay out of
hospitals and do something creative. What will you do?

I remember You

dorothywilhelm — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 18:05:01 +0000

I don’t know about you but I’m always looking for ways to improve my memory which seems
to be deteriorating at least a little. I eat a ton of blueberries which is good for memory, but
I was really glad to find an article in this month’s Consumer Report with four tips for improving memory.
#1 Rehearse – whatever the information is, say it aloud several times. And I find if I write
it down I’m likely to remember, and if you put it on a post it note right where you’ll need
the info, you’re really in business.

#2 Resize – Break the information into small “bites” makes it much easier to remember

#3 Relate – This is the one you see in comics all the time. If the person’s name is John
relate it to your Uncle John, but I find with my luck I think the person’s name is Uncle.

#4 Visualize – Actually see the thing or person you want to remember, in a scene, maybe
at Disneyland, or in a master painting. Then, when you revisit the scene you will remember.
Let me know your favorite memory tricks.

The article in Consumer Reports is at http://budurl.com/kqsk

Magical World of Puppetry

dorothywilhelm — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 03:47:17 +0000

Carter Family Puppets

So I made my first marionette out of two blocks of wood and a bunch of toilet paper tubes. It was magical.
I was just delighted yesterday when I visited “The World of Puppetry. Treasures from the Cook/Marks Collection.” It was a delight to meet Demitri Carter of the famous Cartr Family Puppets. The plans for the Northwest Puppet Center are really excited. If you’re within -oh-
500 miles, scoot into the Seattle Center in Seattle, WA this weekend. Tell them Dorothy sent you.

Whaddya Mean You Don’t Like Puppets?

dorothywilhelm — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 23:45:53 +0000

If you hurry, there’s still time to see The World of Puppetry: Treasures from the Cook/Marks Collection at the Seattle Center. This is just a sampling of the more than 5000 puppets in the collection. My own favorite is Bil Baird’s whimsical horse, but they come from all over the world.

Fire and Ice

dorothywilhelm — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 05:28:51 +0000

My Mother wore Revlon’s Fire and Ice lipstick. I never knew where the ice came in but the lipstick itself was the color of dried blood. Now that
I think of it, it was none too attractive. But Mom once made the mistake of asking for it for a Mother’s Day present and I was so thrilled to know of something she liked that I gave it to her
for every conceivable occasion. She had tubes of lipstick piled all over the bathroom and stuffed in the furnace grate, as if the Sorcerer’s
Apprentice was renting a room. Finally she laid down the law. No more Fire and Ice. Ever. It’s hard to know
the right gifts for special people, but I’ll tell you one thing. It sure isn’t Fire and Ice.

Repulse the Monkey?

dorothywilhelm — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 04:19:42 +0000

I do know that Repulse the Monkey is one of the names of the moves in Tai Chi. I am now taking Tai Chi three times a week. I am really, really bad at it. In fact, I seem
to keep getting worse all the time. My instructor keeps saying that my hand is in the wrong
place but I don’t see how that can be true. It’s right at the end of my arm where it’s been all
along. There’s a video where you can see Chen Man Ching doing the Yang Form which he developed.
When he made this video he was the same age I am now. Hmm. Well, I may not be doing so
badly after all. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USJPmCZ6Efc

Cool Grandma? Not! Really Not!!

dorothywilhelm — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 21:06:15 +0000

My thirteen-year- old Granddaughter was so cool that ice, if given the opportunity, wouldn’t melt on any portion of her person. Whereas, by popular acclaim, I am acknowledged to be about the least cool person around here. Therefore, I have a lot of trouble when time comes to choose a gift that will register on her Cool Meter. But sometimes you just have to try. That’s how it happened that not long ago, fortified by a good breakfast, I actually went to the mall and marched right into a music store. It was different world. The walls were covered with posters in colors found nowhere in nature. An onslaught of sound nearly pushed me back out the door again. “Yeah, I know. Great music, isn’t it,” said Brett, the genial counterman respectfully. “I play that music all day.” I offered my deep sympathies and dropped my selection on the counter, hoping to be on my way before another classic number (more than 20 minutes old) could begin. Brett recoiled in horror at my choices. “Oh, no,” he said delivering the ultimate insult, “ those are things a Grandmother would buy. “ This was terrible but not wholly unexpected news. He suggested a brand new, arrived this very day, CD which offered 18 songs by people I never heard of – so right away that was a good sign. It featured names like Brittney Spears, Robbie Williams and Everclear ( I imagine that this is a young person who has overcome his skin problem and I rejoice for him. ) It turns out that everyone I’ve ever heard of has been dead for twenty years. These entertainers, by contrast, are “totally hot.” and naturally would be desired by someone who is absolutely cool. Miraculously, my gift was a great hit with Granddaughter. I know I will never be able to do it again. And I’ve got to say, ten years later, I’ve never managed to be that cool again. My grandkids are very different than my kids – lots and lots of tattoos and piercing and nobody
wears a watch or answers the phone. I’m going off to pick out a birthday gift today. What’s
the chance I’ll find something “hot”. I’d love some ideas.

The guys talk it over

dorothywilhelm — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 06:16:13 +0000

My sons are discussing my latest column on Facebook:
Ross Wilhelm is demanding royalties from his Mom’s latest column, since apparently, his Facebook page wrote it:

His lawyers will be in touch.
We’re a very close family – at least electronically | Seniors – The News Tribune
www.thenewstribune.com
Jul. 04, 2010 – The caption says it’s a picture of a broken toe. It certainly looks broken. Larger than life and season appropriate. It’s bruised red, white, and blue.
·

Ross Wilhelm
I get my brother-the-lawyer, ’cause I spoke first.
im IkeharaOh, that’s awesome! I see where you get your humor, Ross; way to go, Mom Wilhelm!!

Kevin McConnell
that is so cool, keep feeding her Ross

Patrick J. Wilhelm Conness
Can’t help but notice you got a whole paragraph to yourself…always were mom’s favorite.

Jennifer Harding Argeles
Your mom is hysterical!! That was great.

Ross Wilhelm
You’re just encouraging her.

Sandra Willett
Your mom needs to run for Mayor. I’d vote for her.
8 hours ago ·

An Army Wife Remembers on The Fourth of July

dorothywilhelm — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 21:54:09 +0000

I cried when my husband received his orders to Korea. and I begged him not to go. I was twenty two years old, and new to the business of being an Army wife. He was twenty four, a newly promoted First Lieutenant, and it would be our first separated tour. He wouldn’t see me or our two small children for sixteen months. “I have to go,” he explained patiently. “Even if I wanted to get out of the Army – and I don’t – I couldn’t leave until after this tour of duty.” And he said, for the first time, what I was to hear him say often, over the years, “We just have to keep marching.”
The Korean War started when I was sixteen. As a typical teen ager, my great worry at first was whether the war would spoil my Sweet Sixteen party. Of course, the reality slowly dawned. We learned names like Inchon and Pusan. When the handsome boy who lived across the alley was maimed at the Chosin Reservoir, the full impact struck me. Soldiers and Marines who had only recently returned from world War II were being recalled to fight again at places we’d never heard of. “Those that were there will never forget! Those who were not will never know,” President Ronald Reagan said.
My young husband and I were lucky, of course. By the time he landed in Seoul, the actual fighting was over, and the discussions had descended to squabbles over the size of the negotiating table and the height of the flag staffs. So he wasn’t in danger, perhaps, but he certainly was gone.
It’s sort of a joke among military wives that something awful always happens at the start of a separated deployment. Either the dog runs away or the car stalls or the furnace
quits. The first day Roger was gone, our eighteen month old son fell down the stairs at my mothers house and required emergency surgery. Luckily little guys bounce back fast. In between caring for him and his sister, I managed to write every day but I never mentioned our son’s accident . What would be the use? It took four to six weeks for a letter to reach Roger. By that time, our boy would be well. I’d receive no mail for weeks sometime and then it would come all at once; letters and tapes on old fashioned reel to reel tapes. I still have every one. I don’t think either of us ever missed a day. No email, no phone calls in those days.
Military wives generally form the habit of not sharing big problems with the absent spouse. We work it through – and we keep marching.
A generation later, my daughter in law, as a Navy wife, kept what she called a Whine Journal. She wrote in it everything that went wrong while my son was at sea; how angry and frustrated she felt, and then when that was finished she’d close the book firmly, and write her husband the usual cheerful letter. She just kept marching.
I learned by watching what it means to be a soldier’s soldier. Often the phone rings in the middle of the night with news of some crisis
or some young soldier in trouble. The soldier’s soldier throws on his clothes and is out the door before his sleeping wife can say, “What is it.” The welfare of the troops comes first.
Every time. By the way, every officer knows from the day he is commissioned that he is forbidden to speak in public or to the press about his Commander in Chief or his policies.
His wife knows it too. Because he’s the Commander in Chief, that’s why.
So for fifty seven years, I’ve been a military wife, widow, and mother and here’s the message I need to leave with you. You can say all you want about how how the President is ruining the country. That’s your right. I can vigorously disagree with you. That’s my right. But I’ve had the opportunity over the years to live in a few of those countries where a sinister knock on the door in the middle of the night is a reality. It gives new meaning to the too familiar phrase, Freedom isn’t Free. In a very real sense
Freedom is a toll road and the toll is paid by our military and their families.
They’ll just keep marching. What will you do?