Ravioli Lasagna

Good Tuesday morning!

NOTE TO JARED: Just wanted you to know... You're on my LIST! Also, just wanted you to know... My LIST is not something you want to be on! See you on the 20th! (Be afraid. Be very afraid!)

I've added pictures of my sister's birthday cake Roxie decorated yesterday. We had her party last night. Bev is four years younger than me, and of course, we look NOTHING alike. However, we have the same voice and people cannot tell us apart on the telephone. Another major difference is the coloring of our children. Beverly's kids are all dark haired, able to tan and are freckle-less (is that a word???). In case you didn't know, it means "without freckles." My kids all have auburn hair, white skin and have to work for a tan that still looks pale in comparison to Bev and her bunch.

Roxie and I have been in charge of the birthday cake for the past few years. We chose to make a pizza birthday cake. I've shown you the pictures this week, but I'll post the recipe next week. It's easy, cute and fun. It would be a good cake any time... not just for birthdays.

So, now that the Gallery is looking a little more full, we can get on with the business at hand.

Childhood Memories - Part 2

When I was growing up, our cousins from Texas would occasionally come for a week in the summer. Not every summer, but enough for us to get to know each other and enjoy each other's company. Ava Lynn was a sweet, fun playmate, and I always enjoyed her visits.

While I was growing up, my family lived at one end of White Pine Street which, in reality, was at the top of a huge hill. One set of my grandparents lived at the bottom of White Pine Street. It was a rite of passage when I was growing up to be able to ride your bike from the very top of White Pine Street to the very bottom of White Pine Street (in one piece). From my house, to my neighbor's house, there was a hump in the road. A hump used to contemplate whether you were brave enough to venture down the rest of the very steep asphalt drive. We didn't wear helmets back then... or knee pads... or elbow pads. The least little hesitation, waver or piece of gravel meant certain death... or a really, really bad bike wreck.

Being about ten years-old (and pretty fearless, I might add), I had mastered the "hill." Beverly, at six years-old, was mastering the hill by placing her bike midway on the steep part and riding from there to the bottom. It's how we did things back then. Only the bravest of the brave (or the exceedingly foolish) just started at the top and took off.

Ava Lynn and I were taking turns riding my bike when she said she wanted to go down the hill to my grandparents' house. "Fine. Let's put the bike up, and I'll walk down with you."

"No. I want to ride down," she replied nonchalantly.

My mouth fell open. "You can't 'just ride down.' It takes weeks and weeks of practice. No one just 'rides down.'" I told her.

She took this as a personal attack. Plus, being a little older than me, she took it as me being bossy. (She may have been a little right about that one. I am Roxie's mother, after all.)

"I KNOW how to ride a bike, and I AM going to ride it down the hill," she said.

I then changed my tune and started begging her to reconsider. "You'll kill yourself and surely die," I said again and again. (You're probably wondering if I really talked like that. Unfortunately, I did. I was a little on the dramatic side, and Anne of Green Gables was my heroine of choice that year.)

After a few more moments of arguing, it became apparent I wasn't going to be able to stop her. But knowing what was about to happen next, I also couldn't look. She rode by me, jaw set, eyes looking straight ahead and disappeared over the hump... the "Hump of No Return." I walked slowly up the smaller hill to my house to wait for the inevitable phone call.

I'm not kidding. As I was walking in the door, the telephone was ringing. It was my Aunt Sue. They were taking Ava Lynn to the Emergency Room for stitches (knee and chin). Why on earth had she ridden down the huge hill? Everyone knew everything in Texas was flat. Of course, she wasn't used to riding on hills. Poor, little (heavily bleeding) Ava Lynn.

I told my Mom what had happened, and we waited until they got back from the hospital to drive to my grandparents to check out the damage.

As far as I was concerned, it was going to go one of two ways. (1) Ava Lynn was going to blame me and get ALL the sympathy in the world; or (2) Ava Lynn was going to admit she was wrong and tell everyone to get off my back. I was personally set for the first scenario.

However, when we arrived, it was a very battered, bruised and stitched up Ava Lynn waiting for us. She cried and hugged me. She said she should have listened to me. She told everyone I tried to stop her. I couldn't have said it better myself.

She really was a wonderful little girl. I loved her before, but I loved her more after the bike wreck. It was a bond of sorts. Not the kind of bond you ever plan for or want, but it was there.

We were growing up. Her family was busy in Texas. My family was busy in Alabama. She probably only came back one or two more times, but each time we always took up where we left off... minus the bike rides. We found there were plenty of other ways to pass the time on a summer day.

Ravioli Lasagna

I made this with my cooking class and it received a thumbs up from everyone!

You will need the following:

1 1/4 pounds sausage
1 jar (26 to 28 ounces) Ragu or Prego
1 package (25 to 27 ounces) frozen cheese-filled ravioli
2 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

1. Brown sausage until no longer pink. Drain.

2. Spread 1/2 cup of the pasta sauce in the bottom of an ungreased rectangular pan. Arrange a single layer of frozen ravioli over sauce.

3. Evenly pour 1 cup pasta sauce over ravioli. Sprinkle with 1 1/2 cups sausage and 1 cup mozzarella cheese.

4. Repeat layers, but in the following order: ravioli, pasta sauce and sausage.

5. Cover lightly with aluminum foil and refrigerate at least 8 hours, but no longer than 24 hours.

6. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Bake covered for 45 minutes.

7. Remove foil. Sprinkle with remaining 1 1/2 cups mozzarella and the Parmesan cheese.

8. Bake about 15 minutes or until cheese in melted.

Other than the browning of the sausage, everything else is just layering. So easy. So delicious. So filling (especially if you have boys who ALWAYS have an appetite). Try it. I think you'll like it!

Have a fun Tuesday. Tomorrow's Seasonal Tradition is sure to please, so check in. I'm declaring tonight Family Game Night nationwide... or at least in the Faulkner household. Pick your game of choice and sit down together for an hour or so tonight, and just have a good time!

Take care, and I'll talk to you tomorrow.