On a day where the traffic on the streets and in the malls will drive you crazy, here's a totally un-PC joke:
Answering service at a mental institution --
Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline.
If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.
If you are co-dependent, ask someone to press 2 for you.
If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6.
If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.
If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.
If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you what to do.
If you are manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer.
If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the hash key until someone comes on the line.
If you are dyslexic, press 6969696969.
If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, phone number, date of birth, social security number, and your mother's maiden name.
If you have post-traumatic stress disorder, slowly and carefully press 00.
If you have bipolar disorder, please leave a message after the beep, or before the beep, or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All our operators are too busy to talk to you.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
More Baby Pictures
Three and a half weeks:
Getting ready for a bath
Holding her head up all by herself!
Getting ready for a bath
Holding her head up all by herself!
Today's Laugh
Quite a hoot! Go check out the piece on Not a Martha-Stewart Thanksgiving.
Just to whet your appetite, and to give you incentive to go read the whole thing, here are two paragraphs. The first follows on the heels of the paragraph which revealed that at 5am the turkey was still frozen solid enough to cut diamonds:
As accompaniment to the children’s recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don’t own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying.
And another section, which explains quite well why we don't have those Norman-Rockwell moments at our Thanksgiving table:
Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress “private” meaning: Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.
Just to whet your appetite, and to give you incentive to go read the whole thing, here are two paragraphs. The first follows on the heels of the paragraph which revealed that at 5am the turkey was still frozen solid enough to cut diamonds:
As accompaniment to the children’s recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don’t own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying.
And another section, which explains quite well why we don't have those Norman-Rockwell moments at our Thanksgiving table:
Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress “private” meaning: Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Shopping
I hate shopping.
Going to the store to buy the weekly groceries is bad enough. But there is no time to do it during the week of Thanksgiving and the week of Christmas. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, the stores are crowded with people who are shopping for groceries for the holiday, and all I want to do is restock my pantry with the regular items that have been depleted by the eaters in my house. And on Friday and Saturday, I do not want to get ANYWHERE near any area where there are any stores of any kind.
But I need eggs.
And Maggie needs shoes.
I've been putting this off for days...
and the crowdedness of the stores is only getting worse as the week passes.
Note to self: I should be thankful that there IS a store where I can buy shoes for my child, and that I have money to do so. Nevertheless, it sure is easier to stock up big-time 8-9 days prior to the holiday, and then not venture toward the store until 3-4 days post-holiday.
Going to the store to buy the weekly groceries is bad enough. But there is no time to do it during the week of Thanksgiving and the week of Christmas. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, the stores are crowded with people who are shopping for groceries for the holiday, and all I want to do is restock my pantry with the regular items that have been depleted by the eaters in my house. And on Friday and Saturday, I do not want to get ANYWHERE near any area where there are any stores of any kind.
But I need eggs.
And Maggie needs shoes.
I've been putting this off for days...
and the crowdedness of the stores is only getting worse as the week passes.
Note to self: I should be thankful that there IS a store where I can buy shoes for my child, and that I have money to do so. Nevertheless, it sure is easier to stock up big-time 8-9 days prior to the holiday, and then not venture toward the store until 3-4 days post-holiday.
Seven Random Weird Facts About Me
Cheryl tagged me for a post that includes --well, how obvious is the title?-- seven random facts about me. And for some thoroughly bizarro reason, she expects me to come up with facts more fascinating then her factoids? Silly Cheryl....
1. I have fought and fought with the computer when it won't give me any sound for YouTube videos or for old Issues Etc programs that I am trying to listen to. When I ask my son for help, he again and again patiently explains that I must turn ON the speakers for the sound to come out. After being repeatedly embarrassed in front of him, I can now remember to turn the speakers on after only a few seconds of fidgeting with the computer, panicking over why the sound is "broken."
2. Whenever we move and find a new dentist, I must always explain my three broken teeth. Two happened in a "trust game" in grade school, and one happened when the neighborhood bully threw a rock at me and hit me in the face with it as I biked to school. Boy, maybe that explains why I don't think so much of either school socialization or "trust games."
3. When we started homeschooling, I was captivated by the ideas presented by Cornerstone Curriculum. (By the way, my opinions have changed.) I remember how they denigrated the Impressionists because that style of art was the first downhill step in moving away from exact depictions of reality, and moving instead toward feelings about reality. I knew nothing about art. We didn't do that in public school. But as we continued homeschooling, and discovered an art series that even I could understand, I discovered that I like the Impressionists. I felt guilty about it for a while. Sometimes still do. Nevertheless, I am crazy about Renoir's Luncheon on the Boat, and it hangs over my computer.
4. We've been doing most of our cleaning on Tuesdays for some reason. I told the kids that I wanted to spend two hours cleaning yesterday so that we wouldn't have that hanging over our heads while Paul is home for the weekend. So we did! Two hours! The house is by no means spotless or dustfree or cobweb-free, but it's perfectly decent. In two hours. If we can do that every week, the knowledge that it is ONLY TWO HOURS will make it so much easier to keep up with the cleaning.
5. Cheri told me it's time to change to a winter purse because mine is very summery, with a kind of "woven grass" look, in pastel blue and green and purple. And I have SO much fashion sense that I said, "Huh?" But she's right. But I still haven't changed purses. Probably won't.
6. When I was doing my exercise-walking yesterday, I noticed that my footprints in the snow are in a very very straight line. All that time on a balance beam in years past still leaves its imprint. [Pun! Ha!]
7. In high school once, I remember that my dad had told me I needed to wash the car one day when I had wanted to go do something with my friends. I was mad. If he was going to make me miss my event to wash the car, I would show him. I would just spend the whole day washing the car. I would polish the hubcaps, and I would dust and buff the dashboard, and I would vacuum under the seats, and I would clean out the trunk, and I would empty the ashtrays of their stash of gum-wrappers, and I would scrub all the stickiness and every smidge of dirt off the steering wheel. I would not only wash the car's outsides, but I would wax it too. Boy, that'd show him how upset I was that he interfered with my plans with my friends! (Now, if it were me as the parent, I would start interfering with my kids' plans a whole lot more if that was how my kids exhibited stubbornness! LOL!)
Okay, I'm supposed to tag some other people. How about Maggie and Maggie, Naomi, and Rick?
1. I have fought and fought with the computer when it won't give me any sound for YouTube videos or for old Issues Etc programs that I am trying to listen to. When I ask my son for help, he again and again patiently explains that I must turn ON the speakers for the sound to come out. After being repeatedly embarrassed in front of him, I can now remember to turn the speakers on after only a few seconds of fidgeting with the computer, panicking over why the sound is "broken."
2. Whenever we move and find a new dentist, I must always explain my three broken teeth. Two happened in a "trust game" in grade school, and one happened when the neighborhood bully threw a rock at me and hit me in the face with it as I biked to school. Boy, maybe that explains why I don't think so much of either school socialization or "trust games."
3. When we started homeschooling, I was captivated by the ideas presented by Cornerstone Curriculum. (By the way, my opinions have changed.) I remember how they denigrated the Impressionists because that style of art was the first downhill step in moving away from exact depictions of reality, and moving instead toward feelings about reality. I knew nothing about art. We didn't do that in public school. But as we continued homeschooling, and discovered an art series that even I could understand, I discovered that I like the Impressionists. I felt guilty about it for a while. Sometimes still do. Nevertheless, I am crazy about Renoir's Luncheon on the Boat, and it hangs over my computer.
4. We've been doing most of our cleaning on Tuesdays for some reason. I told the kids that I wanted to spend two hours cleaning yesterday so that we wouldn't have that hanging over our heads while Paul is home for the weekend. So we did! Two hours! The house is by no means spotless or dustfree or cobweb-free, but it's perfectly decent. In two hours. If we can do that every week, the knowledge that it is ONLY TWO HOURS will make it so much easier to keep up with the cleaning.
5. Cheri told me it's time to change to a winter purse because mine is very summery, with a kind of "woven grass" look, in pastel blue and green and purple. And I have SO much fashion sense that I said, "Huh?" But she's right. But I still haven't changed purses. Probably won't.
6. When I was doing my exercise-walking yesterday, I noticed that my footprints in the snow are in a very very straight line. All that time on a balance beam in years past still leaves its imprint. [Pun! Ha!]
7. In high school once, I remember that my dad had told me I needed to wash the car one day when I had wanted to go do something with my friends. I was mad. If he was going to make me miss my event to wash the car, I would show him. I would just spend the whole day washing the car. I would polish the hubcaps, and I would dust and buff the dashboard, and I would vacuum under the seats, and I would clean out the trunk, and I would empty the ashtrays of their stash of gum-wrappers, and I would scrub all the stickiness and every smidge of dirt off the steering wheel. I would not only wash the car's outsides, but I would wax it too. Boy, that'd show him how upset I was that he interfered with my plans with my friends! (Now, if it were me as the parent, I would start interfering with my kids' plans a whole lot more if that was how my kids exhibited stubbornness! LOL!)
Okay, I'm supposed to tag some other people. How about Maggie and Maggie, Naomi, and Rick?
Today's Laugh
Seen on last weekend's recipes on Lucianne.com, in amongst comments on baked squirrel, spreading out to possum-cooking:
An armadillo is just a possum on the half-shell.
An armadillo is just a possum on the half-shell.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
More Alia Pictures
Wow, she's a lot bigger!
Eight pounds now at 3 weeks old:
Aren't they beautifully fascinating fingers?
Eight pounds now at 3 weeks old:
Aren't they beautifully fascinating fingers?
Creamed Corn
Fat.
Fat.
Glorious fat.
Oh, this is good!
Thanks to Barbara, who linked to Lucianne's recipe-posting weekend, I found this treat.
It's best made with fresh sweet corn from the field. But if you don't have that, you can use frozen corn. Thaw the corn. Throw it, in small batches, into the food processor and chop roughly -- do not turn it to mush. Melt lots of butter in the skillet. Cook corn slowly in the butter, till it's nearly dry. Then add heavy cream and cook down. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
This is like heaven compared to the creamed corn you buy in a can. Of course, with that much fat in it, what do we expect? Mmmmmm!
Fat.
Glorious fat.
Oh, this is good!
Thanks to Barbara, who linked to Lucianne's recipe-posting weekend, I found this treat.
It's best made with fresh sweet corn from the field. But if you don't have that, you can use frozen corn. Thaw the corn. Throw it, in small batches, into the food processor and chop roughly -- do not turn it to mush. Melt lots of butter in the skillet. Cook corn slowly in the butter, till it's nearly dry. Then add heavy cream and cook down. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
This is like heaven compared to the creamed corn you buy in a can. Of course, with that much fat in it, what do we expect? Mmmmmm!
Winter
The sun sets earlier in town. Here it is, still 4 weeks till solstice, and the sun is setting at 4:15. Nearly every week last winter and the previous year I'd be surprised when we got to town for paper routes, assuming we still had half an hour of daylight left, and discovering that darkness came in town much earlier because of the houses blocking the horizon and the trees shading whatever light was still bouncing around up in the sky.
Wall clocks that run on batteries should not be on outside walls during the winter. The cold is hard on the batteries. The clock slows down. The person who expects the clock to be two minutes early gets where she's going and discovers that the clock was actually four minutes behind. (Do you remember the "household tip" that said to store your batteries in the refrigerator to keep them fresh? Who came up with that cockamamie advice anyhow???)
Wall clocks that run on batteries should not be on outside walls during the winter. The cold is hard on the batteries. The clock slows down. The person who expects the clock to be two minutes early gets where she's going and discovers that the clock was actually four minutes behind. (Do you remember the "household tip" that said to store your batteries in the refrigerator to keep them fresh? Who came up with that cockamamie advice anyhow???)
Today's Laugh
One day God was looking down at Earth and saw all of the rascally behavior that was going on. He decided to send an angel down to Earth to check it out.
So he called one of His angels and sent the angel to Earth for a time. When he returned, he told God, "Yes, it is bad on Earth; 95% are misbehaving and only 5% are not."
God thought for a moment and said, "Maybe I had better send down a second angel to get another opinion." So God called another angel and sent him to Earth for a time too.
When the angel returned he went to God and said, "Yes, it's true. The Earth is in decline; 95% are misbehaving, but 5% are being good."
God was not pleased. So He decided to email the 5% that were good, because He wanted to encourage them, to give them a little something to help them keep going.
Do you know what the E-mail said?
I was just wondering; I didn't get one either.
So he called one of His angels and sent the angel to Earth for a time. When he returned, he told God, "Yes, it is bad on Earth; 95% are misbehaving and only 5% are not."
God thought for a moment and said, "Maybe I had better send down a second angel to get another opinion." So God called another angel and sent him to Earth for a time too.
When the angel returned he went to God and said, "Yes, it's true. The Earth is in decline; 95% are misbehaving, but 5% are being good."
God was not pleased. So He decided to email the 5% that were good, because He wanted to encourage them, to give them a little something to help them keep going.
Do you know what the E-mail said?
I was just wondering; I didn't get one either.
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Help of Computers
Rachel has decided to tackle NaNoWriMo and write a novel in the month of November. She told me yesterday that today she is headed to Panera to write today. She cannot write in the house. Too many distractions.
I was raised in an era of typewriters. Computers were machines that took up whole buildings. In college, the idea of a computer that would sit on a desk (on a desk? a whole computer???) was just beginning to come into vogue. I remember the secretary at the church in Wautoma having to type and retype and retype letters to people: sometimes because she made a typo that couldn't be fixed and thus she started over, sometimes because there was one line in each letter which needed to be adjusted for the recipient (such as which position that person was serving as a church officer). The word-processing typewriter (which had some memory in it) was such a time-saving blessing!
I don't know now how I could function with writing the old-fashioned way. It's so easy to make corrections on the computer, to adjust words, to tweak paragraphs, to plop an extra thought into the middle of a sentence. The words flow from my fingertips onto the keyboard in the way that the words once, long ago, flowed from my pen onto paper. And unfortunately, the words no longer flow from pen to paper so easily.
I am old enough that I think of computers primarily as something that, well, computes, for the bank, for the credit card companies, for the colleges ... and as a word-processor. I am beginning to see the computer, though, the way the younger generation does: as a way to keep in touch with those who are miles away, as the world's file cabinet of interesting information, and maybe even as entertainment.
And thus I find it fascinating that Rachel is leaving her computer to write. She is headed to Panera with her pen and notebook. (That is, a spiral-bound notebook, with white paper with pale blue lines. Not a computer the size of a notebook.) The distractions of home --the housecleaning, the cooking, the cats-- and the distractions of the computer --email, blogs, Facebook photos, games, etc-- prevent her from writing. The very computer which eases the process of writing is the exact same thing that distracts her from doing the work.
Somehow, when I hear some of the older pastors speak about the young pastors spending too much time on the computer, I can see how it's hard to balance the time-saving aspects of the word-processor with the time-wasting aspects of online socialization and gaming.
And I think Rachel has probably discovered the only real solution. Putting distance between herself and the machine.
I was raised in an era of typewriters. Computers were machines that took up whole buildings. In college, the idea of a computer that would sit on a desk (on a desk? a whole computer???) was just beginning to come into vogue. I remember the secretary at the church in Wautoma having to type and retype and retype letters to people: sometimes because she made a typo that couldn't be fixed and thus she started over, sometimes because there was one line in each letter which needed to be adjusted for the recipient (such as which position that person was serving as a church officer). The word-processing typewriter (which had some memory in it) was such a time-saving blessing!
I don't know now how I could function with writing the old-fashioned way. It's so easy to make corrections on the computer, to adjust words, to tweak paragraphs, to plop an extra thought into the middle of a sentence. The words flow from my fingertips onto the keyboard in the way that the words once, long ago, flowed from my pen onto paper. And unfortunately, the words no longer flow from pen to paper so easily.
I am old enough that I think of computers primarily as something that, well, computes, for the bank, for the credit card companies, for the colleges ... and as a word-processor. I am beginning to see the computer, though, the way the younger generation does: as a way to keep in touch with those who are miles away, as the world's file cabinet of interesting information, and maybe even as entertainment.
And thus I find it fascinating that Rachel is leaving her computer to write. She is headed to Panera with her pen and notebook. (That is, a spiral-bound notebook, with white paper with pale blue lines. Not a computer the size of a notebook.) The distractions of home --the housecleaning, the cooking, the cats-- and the distractions of the computer --email, blogs, Facebook photos, games, etc-- prevent her from writing. The very computer which eases the process of writing is the exact same thing that distracts her from doing the work.
Somehow, when I hear some of the older pastors speak about the young pastors spending too much time on the computer, I can see how it's hard to balance the time-saving aspects of the word-processor with the time-wasting aspects of online socialization and gaming.
And I think Rachel has probably discovered the only real solution. Putting distance between herself and the machine.
Grown-Up Work
Two weeks ago, when I was in Fort Wayne, I spent several hours per day for four days at the sem library. Katie was doing fine with nursing Alia, and I didn't need to be in the new family's hair all the time -- just at mealtime and cleaning time ... and a little bit of cooing-at-Alia time.
There is a CCA project that got stalled. Some grad assistants at the sem were working on the project. But then they had the audacity to graduate [can you believe it?!?!] and get ordained and go out there in the world to take care of the sheep entrusted to them by the Shepherd. And so, the project languished temporarily for want of attention.
I requested the job and was given permission to tackle it. When I started in on the project, I realized that I had a lot to figure out. I (the techno-phobe who took three weeks to learn how to operate the email, and that only after repeated and explicit instructions from my children, and copious note-taking on my part) figured out the sem's computer catalog of books and articles. The librarians showed me how to work the funky copier that's specially for books, and I did it. The librarians and I managed to get photocopies off both the microfiche and the microfilm. I found articles tucked away in odd places. DoRena's Sam even told me how I could get a hold of as-yet-uncatalogued books. I puzzled out things that I honestly thought my brain was no longer capable of.
It was exhilarating!
I was a little afraid of coming home and rebelling against the daily housewife routine that doesn't require such stretches of problem-solving in unfamiliar territory (and enticing peeks into articles and lectures that looked quite intriguing). But it's been okay. I haven't been pining to do that out-of-the-home grown-up work. There's just something wonderful about knowing that I haven't lost so many brain cells that my work at the sem library was completely beyond me.
So wonderful, in fact, that it was [amazingly enough!] as good as Baby Watching.
There is a CCA project that got stalled. Some grad assistants at the sem were working on the project. But then they had the audacity to graduate [can you believe it?!?!] and get ordained and go out there in the world to take care of the sheep entrusted to them by the Shepherd. And so, the project languished temporarily for want of attention.
I requested the job and was given permission to tackle it. When I started in on the project, I realized that I had a lot to figure out. I (the techno-phobe who took three weeks to learn how to operate the email, and that only after repeated and explicit instructions from my children, and copious note-taking on my part) figured out the sem's computer catalog of books and articles. The librarians showed me how to work the funky copier that's specially for books, and I did it. The librarians and I managed to get photocopies off both the microfiche and the microfilm. I found articles tucked away in odd places. DoRena's Sam even told me how I could get a hold of as-yet-uncatalogued books. I puzzled out things that I honestly thought my brain was no longer capable of.
It was exhilarating!
I was a little afraid of coming home and rebelling against the daily housewife routine that doesn't require such stretches of problem-solving in unfamiliar territory (and enticing peeks into articles and lectures that looked quite intriguing). But it's been okay. I haven't been pining to do that out-of-the-home grown-up work. There's just something wonderful about knowing that I haven't lost so many brain cells that my work at the sem library was completely beyond me.
So wonderful, in fact, that it was [amazingly enough!] as good as Baby Watching.
Today's Laugh
In April of 1996, the author of the Hokey-Pokey died. Larry LaPrise died peacefully in his sleep. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in, and then the trouble started.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Baby Pictures
Hooray, hooray! Katie posted some pictures on her Facebook account! For those who don't have access to Facebook:
Today's Laugh
This one is from Jodi:
Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, are excessively mischievous. They are always getting into trouble and their parents know all about it. If any mischief occurs in their town, the two boys are probably involved.
The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8-year-old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon.
The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Do you know where God is, son?"
The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God?!"
Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "Where is God?!"
The boy screamed & bolted from the room, ran directly home, and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him.
When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "What happened?"
The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in BIG trouble this time.
"GOD is missing, and they think we did it!"
Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, are excessively mischievous. They are always getting into trouble and their parents know all about it. If any mischief occurs in their town, the two boys are probably involved.
The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8-year-old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon.
The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Do you know where God is, son?"
The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God?!"
Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "Where is God?!"
The boy screamed & bolted from the room, ran directly home, and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him.
When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "What happened?"
The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in BIG trouble this time.
"GOD is missing, and they think we did it!"
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Can't
I think it's very important to be hard-working.
I am frustrated by laziness, in myself and in others.
But I find it harder and harder to know when can't is won't, or when won't is can't.
If I try just a little bit harder to be organized, or to get more done, can't I do just a little bit more, just a little bit better than I'm doing now? But following this logic, I will be able to do ANYthing: leap over tall buildings in a single bound, stop a speeding train, etc ... because, after all, those are just a little bit more than the step before. Right?
When a child is learning to read, or go potty, a ride a bike, or do two-digit multiplication, how does the mother/teacher know when failure is caused by the child's laziness (or stubbornness) instead of failure due to the child's not being ready? Some kids will learn to read easily at age 3 or 4, more of them at age 6, and some not till age 10. Brow-beating a kid to read usually won't hurry the process. But what happens when some good hard work is what's necessary to get over the difficulty? How do we know?
It always seems that I can be just a little more frugal than last month. But does there come a point when you just can't do it anymore? Does there come a point when either the grocery budget increases, or you don't fill up the people's tummies, or you sacrifice nutrition to save the dollars?
How do we know when our bodies are simply no longer capable of hauling around lumber all day? How do we know when daily jogging is now too harshly bouncy for the guts to take? How do we know when the solution is a little more stick-to-ive-ness, and when the solution is "Give up already! You're too old for this!"
Once upon a time, we were sick. The whole family. Sicker than we'd been in quite a while. We were sitting around, aching, not reading nor watching tv because we were just too sick. We nibbled jello and watched the clock to see when we could take our next dose of tylenol or aspirin. A friend invited us to some event. I turned her down due to illness. She insisted that it would be healthy for us to get out of the germ-laden house, into the fresh air and sunshine, and get going with some physical labor. They had been sick once, but had to go out and do a lot of physical labor that day in spite of illness, and it seems they "sweated it out" and by the end of the day were feeling much better. I often think of that when I'm feeling puny. Maybe I should just ignore the need to rest and get out there and WORK. Maybe I'm just babying myself. Too much of a patsy. Too lazy.
Today it crossed my mind that I don't know the answer to "When is something too much?" in a gazillion different areas of life. And it drives me nuts! Because I value hard work, I am prone to plugging away at something, trying to make it work, far longer than I ought. And because I have no sense of balance (hence the name of this blog) I realized that I will NOT know "how much is too much" until I collapse with a heart attack or have a nervous breakdown or fall down the stairs with a basket of laundry, or whatever the case may be.
So I am trying to convince myself that middle-aged people are allowed to work less than 16 hours a day, that it's okay to sit and put my feet up and allow my mind to veg. I am trying to convince myself that sometimes a person can get more accomplished by stopping, resting, and coming back at the project fresh and re-energized. I have often told myself and others that it's good to "do the best you can," but you can't do better than "the best you can" no matter how hard you try. The frustration lies in recognizing that "the best you can" isn't as good as you want/need for it to be.
Someday I will learn to accept those limitations on my strength and endurance and memory (and the similar limitations of others). Then it will be easier to sit back and take the rest-breaks I need without constantly scolding myself for being lazy.
And today?
I'll just rest anyway,
even if I do think I'm lazy.
I am frustrated by laziness, in myself and in others.
But I find it harder and harder to know when can't is won't, or when won't is can't.
If I try just a little bit harder to be organized, or to get more done, can't I do just a little bit more, just a little bit better than I'm doing now? But following this logic, I will be able to do ANYthing: leap over tall buildings in a single bound, stop a speeding train, etc ... because, after all, those are just a little bit more than the step before. Right?
When a child is learning to read, or go potty, a ride a bike, or do two-digit multiplication, how does the mother/teacher know when failure is caused by the child's laziness (or stubbornness) instead of failure due to the child's not being ready? Some kids will learn to read easily at age 3 or 4, more of them at age 6, and some not till age 10. Brow-beating a kid to read usually won't hurry the process. But what happens when some good hard work is what's necessary to get over the difficulty? How do we know?
It always seems that I can be just a little more frugal than last month. But does there come a point when you just can't do it anymore? Does there come a point when either the grocery budget increases, or you don't fill up the people's tummies, or you sacrifice nutrition to save the dollars?
How do we know when our bodies are simply no longer capable of hauling around lumber all day? How do we know when daily jogging is now too harshly bouncy for the guts to take? How do we know when the solution is a little more stick-to-ive-ness, and when the solution is "Give up already! You're too old for this!"
Once upon a time, we were sick. The whole family. Sicker than we'd been in quite a while. We were sitting around, aching, not reading nor watching tv because we were just too sick. We nibbled jello and watched the clock to see when we could take our next dose of tylenol or aspirin. A friend invited us to some event. I turned her down due to illness. She insisted that it would be healthy for us to get out of the germ-laden house, into the fresh air and sunshine, and get going with some physical labor. They had been sick once, but had to go out and do a lot of physical labor that day in spite of illness, and it seems they "sweated it out" and by the end of the day were feeling much better. I often think of that when I'm feeling puny. Maybe I should just ignore the need to rest and get out there and WORK. Maybe I'm just babying myself. Too much of a patsy. Too lazy.
Today it crossed my mind that I don't know the answer to "When is something too much?" in a gazillion different areas of life. And it drives me nuts! Because I value hard work, I am prone to plugging away at something, trying to make it work, far longer than I ought. And because I have no sense of balance (hence the name of this blog) I realized that I will NOT know "how much is too much" until I collapse with a heart attack or have a nervous breakdown or fall down the stairs with a basket of laundry, or whatever the case may be.
So I am trying to convince myself that middle-aged people are allowed to work less than 16 hours a day, that it's okay to sit and put my feet up and allow my mind to veg. I am trying to convince myself that sometimes a person can get more accomplished by stopping, resting, and coming back at the project fresh and re-energized. I have often told myself and others that it's good to "do the best you can," but you can't do better than "the best you can" no matter how hard you try. The frustration lies in recognizing that "the best you can" isn't as good as you want/need for it to be.
Someday I will learn to accept those limitations on my strength and endurance and memory (and the similar limitations of others). Then it will be easier to sit back and take the rest-breaks I need without constantly scolding myself for being lazy.
And today?
I'll just rest anyway,
even if I do think I'm lazy.
Today's Laugh
The things that come to those who wait will be the scraggly junk left by those who got there first.
A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.
The shin bone is a device for finding furniture in a dark room.
A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.
The shin bone is a device for finding furniture in a dark room.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Raking
Well, we're more than halfway through with the raking. This is the pile we have so far:
That pile is 4' high. That's going to be a lot of compost!
We're not used to raking leaves. At the parsonage we were on a little knoll, on one of the highest spots in the township, and the leaves just blew away most of the time without effort on our part. We've gained a LOT in having less wind-noise. For example, we can sit outside and read without having the papers all blow away. And less noise! But there are a few benefits to the wind: blowing away mosquitos and flies, and blowing away leaves.
On the other hand, if we can compost those leaves, I betcha I'll be glad to have them instead of losing them to the fickle wind.
That pile is 4' high. That's going to be a lot of compost!
We're not used to raking leaves. At the parsonage we were on a little knoll, on one of the highest spots in the township, and the leaves just blew away most of the time without effort on our part. We've gained a LOT in having less wind-noise. For example, we can sit outside and read without having the papers all blow away. And less noise! But there are a few benefits to the wind: blowing away mosquitos and flies, and blowing away leaves.
On the other hand, if we can compost those leaves, I betcha I'll be glad to have them instead of losing them to the fickle wind.
Alia and Rachel
Looky there! A picture of Alia that I forgot to upload to my blog. This was when the girls were watching Miss Potter, except for Alia who was watching Auntie Rachel. This is from way back when Miss Alia was only 10 days old. Maybe if her mother could post a few more photos on Facebook, we could have some more recent pictures..... {ahem.... hint hint... ahem}
Today's Laugh
Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until
you hear them speak.
Nothing is fool proof to a sufficiently talented fool.
The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong.
you hear them speak.
Nothing is fool proof to a sufficiently talented fool.
The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Seeing the Baby
Good news! Somebody got a job!
Not-so-good news. That means he will have to work and will not be able to come for Thanksgiving next week.
But there's a job! With a paycheck! Which will buy groceries and pay rent!
I've been noticing that all the people who say, "It's so great to be grandparents! Don't you just love having a baby around? Being a grandma is even better than being a mother!" are the people who actually live near their grandchildren.
Not-so-good news. That means he will have to work and will not be able to come for Thanksgiving next week.
But there's a job! With a paycheck! Which will buy groceries and pay rent!
I've been noticing that all the people who say, "It's so great to be grandparents! Don't you just love having a baby around? Being a grandma is even better than being a mother!" are the people who actually live near their grandchildren.
Potholder Loops
Do you have a child who cannot get enough of weaving potholders? It's expensive if you buy the good loops -- the ones that are made of wool or cotton instead of nylon, and which actually fit the loom. You can make your own loops, though, out of old cotton-knit t-shirts.
Go to bbmarie's photo tutorial to learn how to make the loops. Because I've had back luck sometimes with things disappearing off the internet, here are brief instructions summarizing the process (just in case I need to have my memory jogged if/after the slideshow disappears one day).
Cut 5.25 x 2.75" rectangles out of the fabric.
The short side should be with the grain.
Round the corners of the rectangles.
Cut a slit (like when you're done sewing a buttonhole) down the middle of the length of the rectangle (which will be across the grain), up to about 1/4" or 1/3" from the ends of the cloth.
When you pull the ends of the rectangle to loop over the loom-pegs, the cloth should roll up a bit, making something akin to the boughten loops.
I cut 52 loops from a woman's t-shirt, size small and not very long. So a t-shirt will provide fabric for 1½ or 2 potholders. One yard of new cotton-knit fabric would yield enough loops for 3½ potholders. It took me about an hour to cut up the t-shirt into loops, but I'm none too quick with crafty projects. It's nice to be able to take interesting prints on t-shirts that would've gone to Goodwill, and turn them into a prettier loop than can normally be found for potholder-weaving.
These loops seem to be significantly heavier than loops from the store. They make a very heavy potholder. To be able to fit the potholder into the space on the loom, I had to skip a few pegs. I'm also considering a try at making narrower rectangles for the loops -- less fabric to roll up and thus less thickness.
Go to bbmarie's photo tutorial to learn how to make the loops. Because I've had back luck sometimes with things disappearing off the internet, here are brief instructions summarizing the process (just in case I need to have my memory jogged if/after the slideshow disappears one day).
Cut 5.25 x 2.75" rectangles out of the fabric.
The short side should be with the grain.
Round the corners of the rectangles.
Cut a slit (like when you're done sewing a buttonhole) down the middle of the length of the rectangle (which will be across the grain), up to about 1/4" or 1/3" from the ends of the cloth.
When you pull the ends of the rectangle to loop over the loom-pegs, the cloth should roll up a bit, making something akin to the boughten loops.
I cut 52 loops from a woman's t-shirt, size small and not very long. So a t-shirt will provide fabric for 1½ or 2 potholders. One yard of new cotton-knit fabric would yield enough loops for 3½ potholders. It took me about an hour to cut up the t-shirt into loops, but I'm none too quick with crafty projects. It's nice to be able to take interesting prints on t-shirts that would've gone to Goodwill, and turn them into a prettier loop than can normally be found for potholder-weaving.
These loops seem to be significantly heavier than loops from the store. They make a very heavy potholder. To be able to fit the potholder into the space on the loom, I had to skip a few pegs. I'm also considering a try at making narrower rectangles for the loops -- less fabric to roll up and thus less thickness.
Today's Laugh
And these are from John G:
If you lined up all the cars in the world end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try to pass them, five or six at a time, on a hill, in the fog.
Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
Those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't.
If you lined up all the cars in the world end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try to pass them, five or six at a time, on a hill, in the fog.
Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
Those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Day By Day
Augsburg has recently put "Day By Day We Magnify You" back into publication.
In my opinion, Day by Day We Magnify Thee is the BEST daily devotional available. Apparently other people know it too, because the prices for the old ones on ebay have been running $20-80 per copy. Now you can buy brand new copies for cheaper than a used one. Of course, it has a different Bible translation and the devotional readings are not translated the same as in the old version. But I have high hopes that there will be nearly as much value in the revised version as in the original.
In my opinion, Day by Day We Magnify Thee is the BEST daily devotional available. Apparently other people know it too, because the prices for the old ones on ebay have been running $20-80 per copy. Now you can buy brand new copies for cheaper than a used one. Of course, it has a different Bible translation and the devotional readings are not translated the same as in the old version. But I have high hopes that there will be nearly as much value in the revised version as in the original.
Today's Laugh
And yet another batch of poor metaphors.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Easy Pot Pie
Having stewed a chicken yesterday afternoon, I had to figure out what it was going to become for dinner. I was really craving chicken and dumplings. But that's such a pain to make. Instead I decided to go with a "pot pie" which is really more like chicken-and-dumplings than like a pie, except I bake the dish instead of steaming the dumplings.
For the guts of the dish, you'd use the chicken meat and some veggies, with the stock turned into a gravy-ish sauce. This all goes into a greased pan (like a 13x9 or a lasagna pan). The top "crust" is made with pancake mix.
For a 9x9" pan, combine
1 egg
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
1/2 cup milk
1 cup buttermilk complete pancake mix
1 cup grated cheddar
Spread this on top of the chicken-veggie mix, and bake for about 20-25 minutes at 375. This is a super-fast topping for a pot pie, and the cheese makes it extra good.
When I'm being a good girl and making things from scratch, this is the same kind of topping, in an amount for a 13x9:
1/2 cup ww flour
1 cup white flour
2 Tbsp sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 Tbsp oil
2/3 cup milk
1 cup shredded cheddar
For the guts of the dish, you'd use the chicken meat and some veggies, with the stock turned into a gravy-ish sauce. This all goes into a greased pan (like a 13x9 or a lasagna pan). The top "crust" is made with pancake mix.
For a 9x9" pan, combine
1 egg
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
1/2 cup milk
1 cup buttermilk complete pancake mix
1 cup grated cheddar
Spread this on top of the chicken-veggie mix, and bake for about 20-25 minutes at 375. This is a super-fast topping for a pot pie, and the cheese makes it extra good.
When I'm being a good girl and making things from scratch, this is the same kind of topping, in an amount for a 13x9:
1/2 cup ww flour
1 cup white flour
2 Tbsp sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 Tbsp oil
2/3 cup milk
1 cup shredded cheddar
Today's Laugh
More goofy analogies from high-schoolers' essays:
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 pm instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 pm traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 pm at a speed of 35 mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 pm instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 pm traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 pm at a speed of 35 mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Crux Theologorum
For centuries theologians have struggled with the question, "Why are some saved and not others?" One answer is that some people choose to accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior, and others reject Him. This contradicts the clear biblical teaching that no one can choose to become a Christian, and that we are dead in sin.
Another answer to the question is that God chooses to save some, and chooses to damn others. This is the Calvinist position, but it contradicts that clear biblical teaching that God wants all to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth, and that Jesus yearned for the unbelievers to repent and be gathered to Him.
So what do we do with this illogic? Lutherans just say simply, "Well, God chooses some to be saved. Those who are damned made their choice to reject Him."
But that doesn't make SENSE!!
Okay, right. I learned that long ago, and it's not earth-shattering news to me. But I found a quote from Scaer* that just summed it up so nicely. After saying that 1) we cannot say God doesn't desire the salvation of all, and 2) we cannot say people have any choice in their own conversion, he states that this is within the hidden will of God (the voluntas absconditus):
The hidden will of God must remain hidden and it is sheer folly to claim knowledge of it from experience and history when our conclusions are so diametrically opposed to the revealed will. It is far better to take the Bible at its word and to have unresolved rational problems than to resolve these tensions by contradicting one or another part of Scripture.
*In "The Nature and Extent of the Atonement in Lutheran Theology" by David P Scaer, published in The Bulletin of the Evangelical Theological Society in 1967.
Another answer to the question is that God chooses to save some, and chooses to damn others. This is the Calvinist position, but it contradicts that clear biblical teaching that God wants all to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth, and that Jesus yearned for the unbelievers to repent and be gathered to Him.
So what do we do with this illogic? Lutherans just say simply, "Well, God chooses some to be saved. Those who are damned made their choice to reject Him."
But that doesn't make SENSE!!
Okay, right. I learned that long ago, and it's not earth-shattering news to me. But I found a quote from Scaer* that just summed it up so nicely. After saying that 1) we cannot say God doesn't desire the salvation of all, and 2) we cannot say people have any choice in their own conversion, he states that this is within the hidden will of God (the voluntas absconditus):
The hidden will of God must remain hidden and it is sheer folly to claim knowledge of it from experience and history when our conclusions are so diametrically opposed to the revealed will. It is far better to take the Bible at its word and to have unresolved rational problems than to resolve these tensions by contradicting one or another part of Scripture.
*In "The Nature and Extent of the Atonement in Lutheran Theology" by David P Scaer, published in The Bulletin of the Evangelical Theological Society in 1967.
Christ in the Old Testament
Our Bible verse for the week is from 2 Timothy:
From childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures,
which are able to make you wise for salvation
through faith which is in Christ Jesus.
In chapel today, Pastor asked the kids what those "Holy Scriptures" were. It wasn't the New Testament -- that was just beginning to be written. And back in Timothy's infancy/childhood, none of the New Testament had been written. The "Scriptures" which Eunice and Lois taught Timothy were the Old Testament.
Okay, I'd been taught that before.
But I never made the connection to Pastor's next point. It was the Old Testament Scriptures which taught Timothy about the God who made gracious promises to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and David. It was the Old Testament Scriptures that taught Timothy about the Messiah's suffering and death. It was the Old Testament Scriptures that taught Timothy about salvation in Jesus.
How 'bout that?
From childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures,
which are able to make you wise for salvation
through faith which is in Christ Jesus.
In chapel today, Pastor asked the kids what those "Holy Scriptures" were. It wasn't the New Testament -- that was just beginning to be written. And back in Timothy's infancy/childhood, none of the New Testament had been written. The "Scriptures" which Eunice and Lois taught Timothy were the Old Testament.
Okay, I'd been taught that before.
But I never made the connection to Pastor's next point. It was the Old Testament Scriptures which taught Timothy about the God who made gracious promises to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and David. It was the Old Testament Scriptures that taught Timothy about the Messiah's suffering and death. It was the Old Testament Scriptures that taught Timothy about salvation in Jesus.
How 'bout that?
I Believe!
My son-in-law sent me a link to an article that just makes your eyes pop out of your head. October was HOT! Global warming is coming to kill us all! Oh no! The proof is in the numbers! Look how hot it was!
Ooops. Small problem. For a large part of Russia (where it was unusually hot for the month of October) it turns out that the temperature data didn't come through properly. What to do? Hmmm. I know! We'll just take September's temperatures, and write 'em down for the days of October, and there ya go... data for the month of October.
And THAT is part of the "proof" that global warming is happening.
This is science??????
And yet, it fits perfectly with what's demonstrated in Expelled. There are certain things we believe: for some it's God's Word, and for others it's something else. Last week in Bible class, Pastor talked about how evolution is a belief system, not a portion of science. This is seen clearly in Expelled, too, especially in what the evolutionists themselves espouse.
What is most stunning in Expelled, though, is not the argument between evolution and intelligent design. What is most stunning is the fervent beliefs and the name-calling by those who deny Intelligent Design.
And here it pops up again, when we're talking about global warming, and inventing data for Russian temperatures.
And we're supposed to trust these scientists who are willing to use faked data, who are unwilling to present both sides of the issue, who are afraid to let the science and logic speak for themselves?
Ooops. Small problem. For a large part of Russia (where it was unusually hot for the month of October) it turns out that the temperature data didn't come through properly. What to do? Hmmm. I know! We'll just take September's temperatures, and write 'em down for the days of October, and there ya go... data for the month of October.
And THAT is part of the "proof" that global warming is happening.
This is science??????
And yet, it fits perfectly with what's demonstrated in Expelled. There are certain things we believe: for some it's God's Word, and for others it's something else. Last week in Bible class, Pastor talked about how evolution is a belief system, not a portion of science. This is seen clearly in Expelled, too, especially in what the evolutionists themselves espouse.
What is most stunning in Expelled, though, is not the argument between evolution and intelligent design. What is most stunning is the fervent beliefs and the name-calling by those who deny Intelligent Design.
And here it pops up again, when we're talking about global warming, and inventing data for Russian temperatures.
And we're supposed to trust these scientists who are willing to use faked data, who are unwilling to present both sides of the issue, who are afraid to let the science and logic speak for themselves?
Today's Laugh
These too are from Suzanne. English teachers submitted examples of bad metaphors and poor analogies that were found in their students' writings.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Roast Vegetables
In my rare stints in buildings with cable tv, I am drawn to the Food Network. Andrew and I can barely pull ourselves away from the tv when we have to stay in a hotel, and kids used to volunteer cheerfully to be the one to take the car in for maintenance (so they could sit in the waiting room and watch History Channel or Discovery).
On Food Network, I'd seen segments on roasting vegetables. But it was my friend Lora who really sold me on it. She makes a wicked vegetable & chicken dish that's roasted, with Emeril's Essence for the spicing. (I tried to find her instructions on her blog, but couldn't. She must've posted it on the homeschool email list instead.)
Today for dinner we indulged in roasted vegetables. This time it was turnips, beets, carrots, and onions.
For Alia's baptism dinner last weekend, I was trying to figure out what to serve (gluten-free!) that could be prepared ahead of time and kept warm in crockpots. To accompany the barbecued pork, roasted vegetables seemed like a good plan. I roasted carrots, cabbage, onion, potatoes. When they were nearly done, they sat in a crockpot (on low) until after church. I got several compliments on the veggies, and the only complaint I heard was, "Why didn't you make more vegetables?" (Uh, that would be because Katie only has so much jelly-roll pan and only so much crockpot space.)
Katie asked how to make roasted veggies. It's easy!
Choose two or three or more veggies. Chop. Cut the slow-cooking species (such as carrots) into smaller chunks than the faster-cooking kinds (such as potatoes, turnips, or cabbage).
Put the veggies on a shallow pan that has sides (jelly-roll pan or a 13x9). Pour a decent amount of olive oil over them (more than a drizzle but not so much as to totally waste the olive oil). Toss the veggie chunks with the olive oil. Then sprinkle with salt and pepper and whatever other spice you want. We find rosemary particularly yummy with roasted veggies. Or Emeril's Essence. But whatever strikes your fancy that day will work, like, say, a combo of garlic powder and basil and thyme. Toss again to spread the spices around the veggies.
Pop the tray into a hot oven (400° to 500°) and cook till tender, anywhere from 30-75 minutes, depending on amount, kinds, and temperature.
Easy as pie. (No. Easier.) And delicious. And nutritious. And easy to clean up afterwards. I'm not seeing a downside here....
On Food Network, I'd seen segments on roasting vegetables. But it was my friend Lora who really sold me on it. She makes a wicked vegetable & chicken dish that's roasted, with Emeril's Essence for the spicing. (I tried to find her instructions on her blog, but couldn't. She must've posted it on the homeschool email list instead.)
Today for dinner we indulged in roasted vegetables. This time it was turnips, beets, carrots, and onions.
For Alia's baptism dinner last weekend, I was trying to figure out what to serve (gluten-free!) that could be prepared ahead of time and kept warm in crockpots. To accompany the barbecued pork, roasted vegetables seemed like a good plan. I roasted carrots, cabbage, onion, potatoes. When they were nearly done, they sat in a crockpot (on low) until after church. I got several compliments on the veggies, and the only complaint I heard was, "Why didn't you make more vegetables?" (Uh, that would be because Katie only has so much jelly-roll pan and only so much crockpot space.)
Katie asked how to make roasted veggies. It's easy!
Choose two or three or more veggies. Chop. Cut the slow-cooking species (such as carrots) into smaller chunks than the faster-cooking kinds (such as potatoes, turnips, or cabbage).
Put the veggies on a shallow pan that has sides (jelly-roll pan or a 13x9). Pour a decent amount of olive oil over them (more than a drizzle but not so much as to totally waste the olive oil). Toss the veggie chunks with the olive oil. Then sprinkle with salt and pepper and whatever other spice you want. We find rosemary particularly yummy with roasted veggies. Or Emeril's Essence. But whatever strikes your fancy that day will work, like, say, a combo of garlic powder and basil and thyme. Toss again to spread the spices around the veggies.
Pop the tray into a hot oven (400° to 500°) and cook till tender, anywhere from 30-75 minutes, depending on amount, kinds, and temperature.
Easy as pie. (No. Easier.) And delicious. And nutritious. And easy to clean up afterwards. I'm not seeing a downside here....
Greedy Capitalism
Capitalism is hated throughout the world (and increasingly in the United States too) because of the greed that fuels the system. And it's true, capitalism is based on the truth that people are greedy and that they will work hard to get stuff for themselves, to improve their position, and to profit.
What we don't seem to realize is that socialism too is based on greed. The greed of socialism is that I want stuff, and I want somebody else to provide it for me.
Thing is, capitalist greed provides motivation for people to work and invent and invest. Socialist greed provides no motivation for ME to do anything; all advancement, all dollars, all business comes from "somebody else." And when everybody thinks somebody else should be providing for the neighbor, pretty soon nobody is doing business.
We can't deny the greed.
But we can harness it so that it moves us to provide for ourselves, and in doing so, contribute to the overall well-being of the nation and providing jobs for others.
But we as a society decided we really don't want to do that anymore.
Hat tip to Cheryl for the link to the article.
What we don't seem to realize is that socialism too is based on greed. The greed of socialism is that I want stuff, and I want somebody else to provide it for me.
Thing is, capitalist greed provides motivation for people to work and invent and invest. Socialist greed provides no motivation for ME to do anything; all advancement, all dollars, all business comes from "somebody else." And when everybody thinks somebody else should be providing for the neighbor, pretty soon nobody is doing business.
We can't deny the greed.
But we can harness it so that it moves us to provide for ourselves, and in doing so, contribute to the overall well-being of the nation and providing jobs for others.
But we as a society decided we really don't want to do that anymore.
Hat tip to Cheryl for the link to the article.
Today's Laugh
This one is from Suzanne:
A Michigan woman and her family were vacationing in a small New England town where Paul Newman and his family often visited.
One Sunday morning, the woman got up early to take a long walk. After a brisk five-mile hike, she decided to treat herself to a double-dip chocolate ice cream cone.
She hopped in the car, drove to the center of the village, and went straight to the combination bakery and ice-cream parlor.
There was only one other patron in the store: Paul Newman, sitting at the counter having a doughnut and coffee.
The woman's heart skipped a beat as her eyes made contact with those famous baby-blue eyes. The actor nodded graciously and the star-struck woman smiled demurely.
"Pull yourself together!" she chides herself. "You're a happily married woman with three children. You're forty-five years old, not a teenager!"
The clerk filled her order and she took the double-dip chocolate ice cream cone in one hand and her change in the other. Then she went out the door, avoiding even a glance in Paul Newman's direction.
When she reached her car, she realized that she had a handful of change but her other hand was empty.
"Where's my ice cream cone? Did I leave it in the store?" Back into the shop she went, expecting to see the cone still in the clerk's hand or in a holder on the counter or something. No ice cream cone was in sight.
With that, she happened to look over at Paul Newman. His face broke into his familiar, warm, friendly grin and he said to the woman, "You put it in your purse."
A Michigan woman and her family were vacationing in a small New England town where Paul Newman and his family often visited.
One Sunday morning, the woman got up early to take a long walk. After a brisk five-mile hike, she decided to treat herself to a double-dip chocolate ice cream cone.
She hopped in the car, drove to the center of the village, and went straight to the combination bakery and ice-cream parlor.
There was only one other patron in the store: Paul Newman, sitting at the counter having a doughnut and coffee.
The woman's heart skipped a beat as her eyes made contact with those famous baby-blue eyes. The actor nodded graciously and the star-struck woman smiled demurely.
"Pull yourself together!" she chides herself. "You're a happily married woman with three children. You're forty-five years old, not a teenager!"
The clerk filled her order and she took the double-dip chocolate ice cream cone in one hand and her change in the other. Then she went out the door, avoiding even a glance in Paul Newman's direction.
When she reached her car, she realized that she had a handful of change but her other hand was empty.
"Where's my ice cream cone? Did I leave it in the store?" Back into the shop she went, expecting to see the cone still in the clerk's hand or in a holder on the counter or something. No ice cream cone was in sight.
With that, she happened to look over at Paul Newman. His face broke into his familiar, warm, friendly grin and he said to the woman, "You put it in your purse."
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Today's Laugh
Sean told me once-upon-a-long-time-ago that his favorite part of my blog was the jokes, and he said I needed more jokes. With yet another grey day "dawning" upon us ("Dawn? Really? Out there? I guess there must be sun behind those clouds somewhere, because the darkness is lighter than it was at 4am.") I'm thinking that maybe I need some jokes. For the last 15 months, it's been hard to laugh or find joy in things. Once upon a time, when Paul McCain was assistant to Al Barry, he would regularly and frequently send out jokes to a huge group of pastors. I figure he probably did a lot to save money for the health plans, with all the laughing over the jokes he emailed. Maybe I need some jokes now.
So here's what Kathy posted to our homeschool email list yesterday:
I LOVE MY JOB . . . . .
The letter-writer is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst-job-experience contest. Needless to say, she won.
Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi. Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt. I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut. So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt. Now repeat to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job." Now whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?
So here's what Kathy posted to our homeschool email list yesterday:
I LOVE MY JOB . . . . .
The letter-writer is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst-job-experience contest. Needless to say, she won.
Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi. Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt. I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut. So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt. Now repeat to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job." Now whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?
Miss Potter
Rachel and Katie and I watched a chick-flick together last weekend. It told the story of Beatrix Potter, and how her books were published, and how she finally fell in love when her mother had long since given up hope of marrying off the daughter. This movie was jam-packed with places to giggle, and full of adorable drawings of Peter and Benjamin and Jemima. The movie showed Beatrix's vivid imagination, and how she was willing to live her life without succumbing to being a conformist. There was romance.
But I think the part I liked best was the scenery in England. The views of the lake district and the surrounding countryside were breath-taking. In one particular scene, I could almost SEE Nancy and Peggy and the Swallows and their sailboats. Oh, it gave me the shivers. The people who produced Miss Potter should considering producing a few Swallows and Amazons movies too.
By the way, when we started collecting Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons stories, they were hard to find. They weren't published in the USA. You could buy them used. Or you could get a traveler to buy one for you in Canada or England. Finding the books through inter-library loan was plenty difficult too. And now, they've grown in popularity so much that you could buy the whole set used for about $20-25 online.
But I think the part I liked best was the scenery in England. The views of the lake district and the surrounding countryside were breath-taking. In one particular scene, I could almost SEE Nancy and Peggy and the Swallows and their sailboats. Oh, it gave me the shivers. The people who produced Miss Potter should considering producing a few Swallows and Amazons movies too.
By the way, when we started collecting Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons stories, they were hard to find. They weren't published in the USA. You could buy them used. Or you could get a traveler to buy one for you in Canada or England. Finding the books through inter-library loan was plenty difficult too. And now, they've grown in popularity so much that you could buy the whole set used for about $20-25 online.
HIGH Heels
Gary's socks were full of holes, so we went shopping Friday night to get a couple of exciting items. While in Penneys, we noticed that some jeans were on sale. Now, it just so happens that my hand-me-downs from my sister (which fit well when I'd lost so much weight from stress last year) are getting a little too snug again. That leaves me with two pairs of jeans that fit, one of which is beginning to get worn-out spots. No holes yet, but they aren't far off. I didn't figure there'd be ultra-talls in the store -- those are usually available just in the catalog.
But now, with all those girls out there wearing unbelievably high heels, ...
hee hee hee ...
the clothing manufacturers are making the jeans LONGER.
Yee haw! I found a pair of jeans, mega on-sale. Now I can wash two of my jeans at a time, instead of washing one pair while I'm wearing the other. This is cool!
But now, with all those girls out there wearing unbelievably high heels, ...
hee hee hee ...
the clothing manufacturers are making the jeans LONGER.
Yee haw! I found a pair of jeans, mega on-sale. Now I can wash two of my jeans at a time, instead of washing one pair while I'm wearing the other. This is cool!
Friday, November 14, 2008
Samson Story
This week we're on Bible stories about Samson. As we reviewed the whole story today, I noticed a couple of things.
Samson's first wife was threatened by her people to find out the answer to the riddle. If she didn't, her countrymen were going to burn up her and her father and her father's house. After acquiescing and betraying her husband, later in the story (when her countrymen found out that Samson had burned up their fields because his wife had been given in marriage to his best man after the groom left) his wife and her father were burned up by their countrymen anyway.
When Delilah was pressing Samson for the secret of his strength, one of the fibs he told her was that he would be weakened if they bound him with new ropes. Thing is, many years earlier, when his own countrymen were tracking him down to turn him over to the Philistines, the men of Judah bound Samson with new ropes. But somehow, when they turned their judge/leader over to the enemy, those new ropes didn't hold him so well, did they?
As pastor talked about these stories all week, the thing I found most comforting was that God did what He wanted to do, accomplished His goals, and worked for His people's salvation, no matter how totally screwed up and sinful was the man He had set in place as the judge. Even though it was not right for Samson to eat the unclean food, or be enticed by women, or desire vengeance for the sake of his own anger, nevertheless, God worked His purposes out, even using the sin of people.
Samson's first wife was threatened by her people to find out the answer to the riddle. If she didn't, her countrymen were going to burn up her and her father and her father's house. After acquiescing and betraying her husband, later in the story (when her countrymen found out that Samson had burned up their fields because his wife had been given in marriage to his best man after the groom left) his wife and her father were burned up by their countrymen anyway.
When Delilah was pressing Samson for the secret of his strength, one of the fibs he told her was that he would be weakened if they bound him with new ropes. Thing is, many years earlier, when his own countrymen were tracking him down to turn him over to the Philistines, the men of Judah bound Samson with new ropes. But somehow, when they turned their judge/leader over to the enemy, those new ropes didn't hold him so well, did they?
As pastor talked about these stories all week, the thing I found most comforting was that God did what He wanted to do, accomplished His goals, and worked for His people's salvation, no matter how totally screwed up and sinful was the man He had set in place as the judge. Even though it was not right for Samson to eat the unclean food, or be enticed by women, or desire vengeance for the sake of his own anger, nevertheless, God worked His purposes out, even using the sin of people.
People Will Talk
Cary Grant played a doctor in the movie People Will Talk. It's a movie with a hint of mystery and a little romance and quite a few laughs. Old enough to be very decent and wholesome, but not goody-two-shoes.
I can't remember who recommended this (probably Barbara or Erin) but I'm glad she did. Gary watched it while I was visiting in Indiana. When he watched it with me, he enjoyed it as much the second time through even though he knew the spoilers. That's the sign of a well-made movie!
I can't remember who recommended this (probably Barbara or Erin) but I'm glad she did. Gary watched it while I was visiting in Indiana. When he watched it with me, he enjoyed it as much the second time through even though he knew the spoilers. That's the sign of a well-made movie!
Oh, Mr Sun
We had a moment (less than a minute) of sunshine yesterday morning. I was so excited to see a SHADOW on the table during Bible class! Today there have been several moments where the cloud-cover thinned out enough that you could see something reminiscent of a SUNBEAM. The last two days may be almost-no-sun, but it's a big improvement over the previous days. I remember seeing SUN a week ago, Thursday, in Fort Wayne.
The germies are making the rounds at Gary's work. He's not sick yet, and thus hasn't spread it to us, but we can feel the tiredness from fighting off the little boogers.
I am trying to catch up on the housecleaning, laundry, and bread-baking after being gone.
Throw those things together with lack of sun and the many hours of driving last weekend, and I feel like one of those old folks who is wanting to turn in for the night in the early evening. "No, no," she screams in panic, "but I don't wanna stay awake until 9:00."
Right now, I'm skeptical of whether I can stay awake until 5:00....
We'll wait until next week to get back into the routine of math lessons.
The germies are making the rounds at Gary's work. He's not sick yet, and thus hasn't spread it to us, but we can feel the tiredness from fighting off the little boogers.
I am trying to catch up on the housecleaning, laundry, and bread-baking after being gone.
Throw those things together with lack of sun and the many hours of driving last weekend, and I feel like one of those old folks who is wanting to turn in for the night in the early evening. "No, no," she screams in panic, "but I don't wanna stay awake until 9:00."
Right now, I'm skeptical of whether I can stay awake until 5:00....
We'll wait until next week to get back into the routine of math lessons.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The Lord's Army
We were in Joel 2 for Bible class today. In verse 11, the enemy of Israel is referred to as "His army." So often, when we hear the title "Lord of hosts" we think of the Sanctus and the angels or even the multitude of saints. We seldom think of the "Lord's army" as being the crowd of unbelievers who are raised up against the Church so that the Lord might bring people to repentance.
When asked about that, Pastor reminded us of the story of Joshua meeting the Commander of the Lord's Army. When Joshua asked whether the Angel was on Israel's side or the Canaanites' side, He said, "No." (And as Pastor is wont to say, Joshua's thoughts probably ran along the lines of, "Huh? 'No' wasn't one of the options....")
Then the next question came. In verse 2 it says that this army that comes against God's people will be a huge army, and strong, the likes of which had never been seen before and never would be seen again. So how can this be? Which army was Joel talking about that was the biggest, strongest, unbeatable-est army EVER? Really? Forever and ever?
Pastor replied that it was the Lord's army. A couple of hundred years after Joel's preaching, the Babylonian army destroyed Judah. That was the Lord's army that He raised up for His purposes. In AD 70, the Roman army came and destroyed Jerusalem and the second temple. That too was the Lord's army, raised up for His purposes. In Luther's day, the Turks were advancing upon Europe. They too were the Lord's army.
And yet, the angel hosts are also the Lord's army.
And so was Joshua's army that defeated the Canaanites, and David's armies that defeated the Philistines.
God has His plans and His purposes, and they are all for the good of the ones He calls to Himself. Even if those plans don't make any sense to us. Even if those plans cause us some real discomfort.
When asked about that, Pastor reminded us of the story of Joshua meeting the Commander of the Lord's Army. When Joshua asked whether the Angel was on Israel's side or the Canaanites' side, He said, "No." (And as Pastor is wont to say, Joshua's thoughts probably ran along the lines of, "Huh? 'No' wasn't one of the options....")
Then the next question came. In verse 2 it says that this army that comes against God's people will be a huge army, and strong, the likes of which had never been seen before and never would be seen again. So how can this be? Which army was Joel talking about that was the biggest, strongest, unbeatable-est army EVER? Really? Forever and ever?
Pastor replied that it was the Lord's army. A couple of hundred years after Joel's preaching, the Babylonian army destroyed Judah. That was the Lord's army that He raised up for His purposes. In AD 70, the Roman army came and destroyed Jerusalem and the second temple. That too was the Lord's army, raised up for His purposes. In Luther's day, the Turks were advancing upon Europe. They too were the Lord's army.
And yet, the angel hosts are also the Lord's army.
And so was Joshua's army that defeated the Canaanites, and David's armies that defeated the Philistines.
God has His plans and His purposes, and they are all for the good of the ones He calls to Himself. Even if those plans don't make any sense to us. Even if those plans cause us some real discomfort.
Chilly
It gets to the point that a person's efforts to keep the thermostat low can interfere with any ability to accomplish anything in the house. When all you want to do is hunker down under the blankies and hug a heating pad, maybe it's time to splurge and give yourself a few more degrees of warmth. If I can drag myself out from under the blankies, maybe I could sweep a floor or whip up some supper.
C'mon, should I really be comfortable in the house with a long-sleeved shirt, a heavy sweater, AND a long wool coat?
C'mon, should I really be comfortable in the house with a long-sleeved shirt, a heavy sweater, AND a long wool coat?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Pumpkin Pancakes
Yesterday I nabbed a recipe off Pinch My Salt that will probably become a favorite. It's one of those whole foods, that's easy to make, from ingredients I almost always have on hand, is rather inexpensive, and tastes good.
And not only that, I can use sour milk, which I occasionally am trying desperately to find ways to use up.
We used to have a recipe for pumpkin pancakes that was delicious. But it required beaten egg whites. I hate beating egg whites. It takes too long. My Kitchenaid is too large (broad-bottomed bowl) to whip just a little cream, or to beat just one or two egg whites. I did buy a hand-held egg-beater, but still... I'd rather just crack the egg and throw it in the recipe as is.
And lunch again today will be:
Whole-Wheat Pumpkin Pancakes
Whisk together in large bowl:
1 cup ww flour
1/2 cup white flour
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp nutmeg
Whisk together in separate bowl:
1.25 cups sour milk or buttermilk
1 cup pureed pumpkin (half a 16-oz can)
2 eggs
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp dark brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
Combine wet and dry ingredients. Don't beat; stir just till moistened. A little more milk may be necessary to get the pancakes thinner. Fry on greased griddle. This made 34 pancakes for us (about 4" in diameter each). Warning for those with fussy children: these are darker pancakes than they may be used to. The sugar, the spices, the whole wheat, and the pumpkin all add darkness to the batter, which in turn makes darker pancakes, which causes children to suspect that the pancakes are "burned." Tough, kid -- eat it anyway....
And not only that, I can use sour milk, which I occasionally am trying desperately to find ways to use up.
We used to have a recipe for pumpkin pancakes that was delicious. But it required beaten egg whites. I hate beating egg whites. It takes too long. My Kitchenaid is too large (broad-bottomed bowl) to whip just a little cream, or to beat just one or two egg whites. I did buy a hand-held egg-beater, but still... I'd rather just crack the egg and throw it in the recipe as is.
And lunch again today will be:
Whole-Wheat Pumpkin Pancakes
Whisk together in large bowl:
1 cup ww flour
1/2 cup white flour
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp nutmeg
Whisk together in separate bowl:
1.25 cups sour milk or buttermilk
1 cup pureed pumpkin (half a 16-oz can)
2 eggs
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp dark brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
Combine wet and dry ingredients. Don't beat; stir just till moistened. A little more milk may be necessary to get the pancakes thinner. Fry on greased griddle. This made 34 pancakes for us (about 4" in diameter each). Warning for those with fussy children: these are darker pancakes than they may be used to. The sugar, the spices, the whole wheat, and the pumpkin all add darkness to the batter, which in turn makes darker pancakes, which causes children to suspect that the pancakes are "burned." Tough, kid -- eat it anyway....
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Vampires
For those of you loved ones who enjoy Twilight and Buffy, would you pleeeease at least do me the kindness of clicking on the link to what Pr Petersen has to say about Leviticus and vampires and crucifixes? (Rest assured: if you know Pr Petersen, he is NOT going to say anything to discourage you from reading the books.) It'll just make this middle-aged woman feel better to know that Anthea and Rachel and others will spend the two minutes absorbing what Pastor says, alongside their enjoyment of the brain-fluff about vampires.
Monday, November 10, 2008
For Veterans Day
My friend Susan sent me a clip from the newspaper back where we used to live. I am so grateful to her for sending it, and to Rueben (the soldier in the article) for his service to his country and to the people of Afghanistan. We used to play at Rueben's house frequently, and his family were some of our dearest homeschooling friends.
By the way, as long as I'm mentioning Rueben, I'd also like to recommend his mom's basket-weaving patterns. For those of you who like to weave, these are beautiful!! And she's a great teacher!
By the way, as long as I'm mentioning Rueben, I'd also like to recommend his mom's basket-weaving patterns. For those of you who like to weave, these are beautiful!! And she's a great teacher!
Baptism Pictures
The family with Pastor Horn:
The sponsors:
Two grandparents:
In the sermon, Pastor talked about baptism being a dying. This Sunday we heard about Christ's second coming (the parable of the five wise virgins and the five foolish virgins). Pastor said that the death & resurrection that takes place at baptism --hidden so that all the mortal eye beholds is water as we pour it-- reverberates through time until at Christ's coming we are taken as Christ's own bride in the resurrection of the body.
I loved the picture in my mind of that reverberation. Like ripples on a pond when the rock is thrown in. Or like a sonic boom, traveling and traveling and traveling through all time and eternity, marking each Christian as God's own child.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Baptism Gown
And the most amazing thing is that the gown was still clean in the afternoon. My kids were prone to ... ummmm... shall we say "explosions" ... in the bottom end of their baptism outfits. They certainly didn't make it through the day in the special clothes, and one even spent the Service wrapped in a towel from the church kitchen. (That'll teach me not to take a change of clothes in the diaper bag!!) Throw some Fischer genes into the mix, though, and things went much better for the dress.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
The Problem with Babies
When my kids were born it seemed like I just couldn't get anything done. I consoled myself that it was normal. After all, a woman goes through childbirth which is a pretty significant experience. And then she's making milk (moo!) and recuperating, while she's changing diapers and doing extra laundry and sunning the baby and all the extra duties associated with new mommyhood. I thought that's why I couldn't get anything done.
But now I know better.
Now I'm the grandma, and I didn't go through childbirth last week, and I'm not making milk, and I still can't get anything done with a new baby around.
The problem is that they are just SO cute that you can't hardly do anything but sit there and gaze upon their cuteness. Oh, isn't she cute when she's asleep? Oh, isn't it wonderful to make lovey-dovey eyes at her? Oh, isn't it adorable when she's looking at everything and taking it in?
Good grief? Who has time to do anything else when the enchantress is enchanting?
So all you new mommies out there,
I've just handed you one doozy of an excuse to ignore the housework ...
But now I know better.
Now I'm the grandma, and I didn't go through childbirth last week, and I'm not making milk, and I still can't get anything done with a new baby around.
The problem is that they are just SO cute that you can't hardly do anything but sit there and gaze upon their cuteness. Oh, isn't she cute when she's asleep? Oh, isn't it wonderful to make lovey-dovey eyes at her? Oh, isn't it adorable when she's looking at everything and taking it in?
Good grief? Who has time to do anything else when the enchantress is enchanting?
So all you new mommies out there,
I've just handed you one doozy of an excuse to ignore the housework ...
Friday, November 07, 2008
Dancing in Church
When Jenny talks about the dancing during the Divine Service in Africa, we know it's okay. So why is it that I get squeamish when I hear about liturgical dance in our country? Is it just a cultural thing? Is it some hang-up I should get over?
As Nathan was talking this week about one of his sem classes, we realized something. Usually, in America, when we hear about dancing in church the focus is not on Christ. The focus is on my excitement about what I'm hearing in church. Or on our joy. Or on our feelings of love. Or showing people that we're not staid and stuffy but can express our emotions of love for our Savior.
But in some places, there is NO focus on me whatsoever. If people are dancing, it is entirely focused on Christ. And I don't think that's something we can decide to "copy" from them or "learn" from them. If we try, then we're actually back to looking at ourselves and our reactions again.
As Nathan was talking this week about one of his sem classes, we realized something. Usually, in America, when we hear about dancing in church the focus is not on Christ. The focus is on my excitement about what I'm hearing in church. Or on our joy. Or on our feelings of love. Or showing people that we're not staid and stuffy but can express our emotions of love for our Savior.
But in some places, there is NO focus on me whatsoever. If people are dancing, it is entirely focused on Christ. And I don't think that's something we can decide to "copy" from them or "learn" from them. If we try, then we're actually back to looking at ourselves and our reactions again.
Canned Vegetables
This week we have discovered a way to improve the texture and taste of canned veggies. Instead of tossing the contents of the can into the saucepan and heating it, it helps to drain the liquid into the saucepan and heat only that. When it's boiling nicely, the veggies go into the hot water and cook just a minute or so until they're heated. They don't come out mushy this way!
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Wednesday's Sunbath
As per Maggie's request:
This is the blanket that she and Olivia sewed and quilted together. Nice job, girls!
As per Gary's request:
A picture of the grandma. You can see the evidence of global warming: me in a tanktop in November. (Let's just ignore that heavy snow a week ago.)
This is the blanket that she and Olivia sewed and quilted together. Nice job, girls!As per Gary's request:
A picture of the grandma. You can see the evidence of global warming: me in a tanktop in November. (Let's just ignore that heavy snow a week ago.)
Monday's Sunbath
Warning, Mom -- You probably don't want to click on this picture to see it up close. It's from Katie's camera and will take forever to download because it's much better quality (as far as pixels) than what my camera takes. But, boy, the face on Alia is just SO cute!
Cute Little Hands
Little missy sure does enjoy being up late at night, gazing in wonder at the beeeeautiful lines and letters and colors on the Periodic Table of Elements. She loves the Superman poster in her room too.
When she went in for her check-up yesterday, the doctor was in agreement with the grandma [grin] that, yes, she is jaundiced, but no, not bad at all. Even though the doctor says jaundice will resolve easily enough on its own, the grandma still thinks that sunshine and fresh air (on these awesome Indian-summer days!) is good for a little girl. Besides, then we have an excuse to sit out in the sun beside her.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Warm Day
Thankfully it was warm enough today to take a nearly naked baby out in the sunshine. We want to knock back a bit of that yellowness. The jaundice isn't bad. Alia had to make a quick trip back to the hospital today for a heel prick (for those tests she didn't get because she left the hospital too early) and none of the nurses complained about her color.
And Maggie, there has been no need yet for the blanket you and Olivia made. That's a nice warm one, and when it's warm enough for your niece to be dressed thusly:
we're going to hold off a bit longer on hauling out the toasty blankies. That's why I don't have a picture of your craftmanship yet.
And Maggie, there has been no need yet for the blanket you and Olivia made. That's a nice warm one, and when it's warm enough for your niece to be dressed thusly:
we're going to hold off a bit longer on hauling out the toasty blankies. That's why I don't have a picture of your craftmanship yet.
Indiana 2
Driving through the country is a lovely, luscious, restful thing!
My plan on Friday was to drop off Maggie with my folks, having met south of the Chicago-metro area, and then head northwest to Valpo, entirely skirting the metro area by driving on Indiana 2. It was BEAUTIFUL! Fields and combines and even old old tractors hauling obsolete hay-rakes. Elevators dotting the landscape. (Why is it that it's so comforting to see fields upon fields, with the elevators popping up on the horizon periodically?) The trees were still changing, so the colors added to the scenery.
And then the detour which sent me back north to the metro area, and the construction zone on the detour, full of Friday afternoon Chicago drivers. Boy, that can suck the joy right out of the drive!
But now that I'm here, wasting oodles of time just watching Alia be cute (oh, so cute!) instead of working on my editing, the stress of driving through busy areas has faded, and I'm again able to remember the gorgeous part of my drive across county roads and state roads in Illinois and Indiana. Y'know, one of those people who wrote songs like "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" should write a song about elevators.
Unplugged Brain
Do you see that?
The appliance on the left? Yep, I saw it too. It's for opening cans, right? Yep, I knew that.
Do you see this?
As I struggled yet again to open yet another tin can with this little hand-operated can opener, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Katie & Nathan don't have a better can opener. Especially with Katie's arm. This little booger is too much work. A better-quality hand-held opener would be SO much easier for Katie. Or even an electric one ....
Wait.
An electric one?
What's that thing sitting by the deep fryer?
Hmmmm.
I am stupid.
The appliance on the left? Yep, I saw it too. It's for opening cans, right? Yep, I knew that.
Do you see this?
As I struggled yet again to open yet another tin can with this little hand-operated can opener, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Katie & Nathan don't have a better can opener. Especially with Katie's arm. This little booger is too much work. A better-quality hand-held opener would be SO much easier for Katie. Or even an electric one ....
Wait.
An electric one?
What's that thing sitting by the deep fryer?
Hmmmm.
I am stupid.
Alia Napping
Sorry to load up the blog with pictures, but Mom & Maggie don't do so well with downloading photos on the dial-up. The blog is easier for them to get the pictures. So the pictures abound.
Those little hands by the face, squirming, and holding her cheeks, and rubbing her nose and ears. Her arms are long enough that Alia (unlike any of my kids) can reach her arms up and have her hands touch above her head.
Those little hands by the face, squirming, and holding her cheeks, and rubbing her nose and ears. Her arms are long enough that Alia (unlike any of my kids) can reach her arms up and have her hands touch above her head.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
What We're Voting For
On Jeff Wagner's afternoon show Friday, he was taking calls from undecided voters. He wasn't trying to convince anybody of anything, nor trying to promote one candidate over the other. He just wanted to explore the mindset behind those who haven't yet decided.
First observation: The callers had no idea who they'd be voting for. But they perceived that it was their civic duty to vote, and they took that obligation seriously. Granted, I agree that it's important to vote. And yet, I disagree completely that those who have no opinion, or those who can't make up their minds, or those who are essentially flipping a coin, should be going to the polls. These undecided voters were saying that they try to follow what's going on in the election, but that they really won't know who's going to get their vote until they're in the booth pulling the lever.
This is scary. This is NOT what it means to do your civic duty and vote. In fact, I think those who are this undecided have a civic duty to refrain from voting.
Second observation: When asked how they'll be making their decision, almost all the callers said they're trying to figure out what each candidate is "going to do" for them. Oh, one candidate says he's going to do thus-and-such for families, or thus-and-such for the middle class, or thus-and-such for business. But if I'm not a businessman, and I'm single, and I'm more well off than the middle-class, then what's he gonna do for ME? When that becomes our standard for voting, the country is done for.
Even if the more conservative candidate wins on Tuesday, unless he wins in an 80-20 landslide, this attitude ("what will government do for MY benefit?") is going to take down the nation, sooner or later, but without fail. A nation cannot survive when government is seen as the doler-of-goodies. But that's what we're looking for. God have mercy on us.
First observation: The callers had no idea who they'd be voting for. But they perceived that it was their civic duty to vote, and they took that obligation seriously. Granted, I agree that it's important to vote. And yet, I disagree completely that those who have no opinion, or those who can't make up their minds, or those who are essentially flipping a coin, should be going to the polls. These undecided voters were saying that they try to follow what's going on in the election, but that they really won't know who's going to get their vote until they're in the booth pulling the lever.
This is scary. This is NOT what it means to do your civic duty and vote. In fact, I think those who are this undecided have a civic duty to refrain from voting.
Second observation: When asked how they'll be making their decision, almost all the callers said they're trying to figure out what each candidate is "going to do" for them. Oh, one candidate says he's going to do thus-and-such for families, or thus-and-such for the middle class, or thus-and-such for business. But if I'm not a businessman, and I'm single, and I'm more well off than the middle-class, then what's he gonna do for ME? When that becomes our standard for voting, the country is done for.
Even if the more conservative candidate wins on Tuesday, unless he wins in an 80-20 landslide, this attitude ("what will government do for MY benefit?") is going to take down the nation, sooner or later, but without fail. A nation cannot survive when government is seen as the doler-of-goodies. But that's what we're looking for. God have mercy on us.
Bigfoot
For Maggie, who needs more and more pictures...
Look at those skinny legs,
and look at those long long feet!
Look at those skinny legs,
and look at those long long feet!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
