Pretty Pumpkin Cinnamon Buns

I still have a little left in me before I'm finished with my Fall Baking project. Good thing too, because yesterday I made something so good, so deliciously yummy, that you might have to come tie my hands down and tape my mouth shut so I don't eat them all:

See? There aren't very many of them left. They are on page 97 of the Fall Baking magazine, and they are called Pretty Pumpkin Cinnamon Buns. They taste just as good as my own cinnamon roll recipe, maybe even a little better.
I had to make them because the day before I baked two pumpkins from the garden. I now have 18 cups of pumpkin puree in my freezer and about seven pumpkin recipes I want to try. Meta and I took dinner to a young family moving from the ward and dessert was my part, so I chose this to experiment on.

So far today I've had three rolls and nothing else.
It's 3:30 p.m. and I just finished Primary practice at the church (which is in jeopardy of not being ready for Sunday, as all new carpet is being laid even as we speak.)

But it's the stake 31 and older Thanksgiving dinner tonight (which the bishop and I are going to) and I know I'll get to eat extra good food there, so I think I'll be alright. If not, I'll come home and eat another couple of buns.

According to the rules of the project, I used about 1/3 wheat flour, one tbsp. yeast instead of two, and my flax and wheat mixture in addition to the eggs. Also, there are two plates of rolls covered and sitting in the car waiting to be delivered to the missionaries and Br. Christensen tonight, so it's assured I won't eat them all.

These buns almost make me want to scrap the knitting and crocheting projects I've been working on and and give everyone a dozen of these instead. I don't think anyone would be disappointed either.

My Sunday wrap-up

I usually have two or three hours to myself on Sunday mornings, so what do I do? Sometimes I ruin it.
This morning I thought I'd check out the latest on msn.com - just to catch up on the sports, political, and entertainment headlines. I got caught in a "20 Most Dysfunctional Couples" website. Stupid and junky and not even that interesting because I don't even know these people and why oh why on Sunday? So I'm writing here as part of my confessional and desire to spend my freetime better.

Last night:
Stake High Priests & Guests social. As Meta, who I invited to go with us, said, "You mean the Priests and the poor and widows?" Yes, but I wasn't going to say so. She is a widow, but firstly my friend.
We don't really go for the food because, despite all the work and planning that goes into it, something usually happens that ellicts laughter and criticism among the High Priests and Guests at the tables. Last year we got about one tablespoon of sweet potatoes and stone-cold turkey.
First of all, we got a call about an hour before start time - our ward quota of young men and young women servers would not be showing up to help. All were AWOL (except three who were absent but not without leave, or they would have been there to do their duty - thank you, Nielsens.)
So at 5:30 we changed out of our gardening clothes into our kitchen-worker/HP socialwear, picked up Meta who had done the same, and went ready to help. Not needed. Enough other wards have YM/YW, ready and less forgetful than ours.
This year the meal was catered by a local Polynesian group for an "Hawaiian Barbecue" menu . . . Having had several experiences with local polynesian food, we weren't surprised by what the plate held, but some at our table were.
"This is the most interesting combination of food I have ever seen!" said one woman, before eating less than half of her meal and leaving early.
"It looks like something men would put together," said Meta. She was right! Two kinds of meat, one shredded, the other pounded with teriyaki sauce and laying on a strip of cooked cabbage; one scoop of potato salad; one scoop of macaroni salad; one roll! And bottled water all around, which simplified things for the servers.
The entertainment for this year was a 17-yr-old harpist from our stake, and her friend, a classical guitarist. Very skilled, very nice, very quiet.

Our last meal like that only much much more in quantity was the wedding we attended last Friday night for our Samoan friends' daughter. It was a three-hour event: lots of food, lots of dancing, and a lot of love shown. These people are the most gracious and respectful to church leaders. Even at a wedding the "bishopric table" (always set aside as a special table) is invited to approach the buffet first, even before the bride & groom's table. Hard to do, but they won't take no for an answer, and so we go first, and we eat and eat and try to not eat too much.

After getting home, I got into bed at 8:30 and read until 11:30 - Dick Francis's latest horse racing novel. Yes, I skimmed. No, I can't even remember the title. But it is done and I'm none the worse for it. One novel every few months is a must.
Doug read "Bike Snob: Systematically & Mercilessly Realigning the World of Cycling" but he only read for two hours instead of three.

Yesterday we finished pulling out the garden and got every bed tilled with our new mini-tiller we share with another family. Although that garden soil yielded more weeds than anything else, it was like sand to till. We'll see what next year brings.
All the raspberries got pruned also, but I've left the rose bush. I can't bear to cut down the beautiful rose buds, even if they are on eight-foot stalks.
I'm still pulling out a few thorns from my hands this morning.

Earlier this week:
I pulled out my Fall Baking magazine along with several not quite ripe pears and made this gingered cranberry pear crisp. Even with the pears a little too crunchy and of course no crystallized ginger, it was good. Very good. Two helpings so far, and the rest will go to a family around the corner. And Doug will get some too.

Because this crisp looks so festive, it reminds me of my youtube playlist. These are a couple of my favorites whenever I'm home and remember that it is way past time to be listening to Christmas music: River and Go Tell It On The Mountain
My real favorite I'll save till later.

I got two packages in the mail yesterday, one for a birthday this week in St. George (must keep it a secret until Tuesday when it hopefully gets there), and one for a Thanksgiving package to New York. It holds an Audubon stuffed wild turkey, which makes the most real turkey sound I think I've ever heard. But it cost so much to mail that for a moment I considered sending money for Christmas instead of homemade gifts. Jerky will surely cost more to mail than a small stuffed turkey! But sending a check can't compare to personalized homemade gifts, in my opinion. Those redheads and their parents are definitely worth it.

And here is the cute little cakestand I sent to Shannon. She's 50 now! And she got a fancy new purse for her birthday, so this plate seemed perfect.