March Madness

My dad wore wore Chuck Taylor high tops for years.  Because he only wore them on picnic/family reunion days and trips to Lakemont Park, he could get multiple years of wear out of a single pair.  In his honor (and just in time for Spring and March Madness) the flamingo returned to the flower bed this morning sporting his own pair of converse all-stars.

But no matter how often or how hard I stare at the ground there is no sign of my daffodils. 

Free Bird Sermon Notes

Have I mentioned that I love my pastor?  No, really.  He speaks my language.  On Sunday he spoke directly to my thrifty bargain-loving soul.  He used these red-letter verses:

Matthew 10:29a   Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?

Luke 12:6a  Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?

Do you see it?  It's the Buy-Four-Get-One-Free Bird Bargain.   And my pastor pointed out the relative worthlessness of that fifth sparrow.  And how society always has its fifth sparrows.  And then he finished the verses:

Matthew 10:29b  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.

Luke 12:6b  Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.

God keeps track of the sparrows.  Every one of them.  Even the fifth sparrows.  The ones at the bottom of the pecking order.  The ones that don't matter to anyone else matter to God.  I like that thought about the fifth sparrows.  I really like my pastor.  And I really, really like my God.  And what He says in big red letters in both Matthew 10 and Luke 12:

Don't be afraid.  You are worth more than many sparrows.

If I was on the twitter, I would tweet that.

Breakfast of Zumba Champions

Took two caplets of Excedrin with caffeine before I got out of bed this morning.  Whoever combined a pain killer with caffeine is clearly a genius over the age of 50.  Why didn't I think of that? 
(Maybe because I am no genius--but you can still leave a comment Uncle M.)

When Life Gives You Lemons

You can make lemon meringue pie.  No, really.  If I can do it, you can do it. 

Since the arrival of 6 lemons in our last bountiful basket the Goob has been plotting a pie.  I have been plotting how not to make a pie.  How about lemon bars?  Lemonade?  Just putting the lemons in a clear glass container or a bowl on the table? 
I was not sure if I had ever made a lemon meringue pie.  Half-way through the meringue spreading, I was sure I had never made a lemon meringue pie.  I would remember this.  (Although maybe I had it filed deep in my memory file.  Under "Things I never want to do again.")

The Goob crossed 'zesting a lemon' off the list of life skills he should aquire before leaving home.  And he learned that 'stirring constantly' and 'remove from heat' are important instructions to follow.  And we both were surprised to learn that the yellow color of lemon pie filling comes from egg yolks, not lemons as we had suspected.  Also, making a lemon meringue pie takes about three days.  And only uses 3 lemons.  But it is so doable.  And so much better made with fresh lemons than with a box of lemon pudding/pie filling.  In fact, it is downright delicious.  I was so impressed with myself and my pie baking skill (note 'shiny', 'peaks' and 'lightly browned' in relation to my meringue!) that I was thinking of changing my last name to Crocker.  Then I remembered that I had unrolled the crust from a box labelled "Pillsbury."

We have three lemons left.  I am going to make them into lemonade before the Goob gets home from school. 

5/24

From The Grasshopper Trap, pg 183:

You see, no matter how much stuff you have for fishing, there's always more stuff you need.  There's always new great stuff that you absolutely have to have, even though you didn't know you needed it before you saw it in a catalog. Fishermen spend hours poring over catalogs to find new stuff they can't possible get along without.  It's wonderful!

A sad aside to the STP's dip in the lake is the loss of his fishing stuff.  (Which was in a bucket and is now on the bottom of the lake.)  A happy by-product of said loss is the joy of replacing his fishing stuff.  Two weekends ago he managed to visit Cabelas, Scheel's, and Big Bear in a search to find ice fishing rods.  (Which should have been on sale since it is so close to the end of ice fishing season.)  ((As evidenced by the ice which allowed the STP to drop through it.))   The STP reported that they did not have what he needed, so he only spent $75.00.  Meanwhile, though, his fishing buddies have shown up with fishing stuff.  A new fishing vest.  An 'extra' rod.  An ice fishing chair.  And a brand new ice fishing rod which they happened to find on sale.  I believe the exact words were, "They were practically giving it away."  Which made me wonder if they were giving them away, why didn't he get more than one?

I thought at first this might be a guy way of reaffirming the STP.  Instead of hugging and crying to express their pleasure that the STP did not die in the lake, they find it easier to give him manly gifts of fishing stuff.   But then I rethought it.  And I think it is more likely that it is a good excuse to buy fishing stuff.  Stuff they don't have to take home or justify the purchase to their wives. 
Because there are some wives who don't understand that you can never have enough fishing stuff.

Tag-a-longs

Goob:  Can I have a tag-a-long?
Five minutes later....
Goob:  If I ever have a daughter, I am going to make her join Girl Scouts.

The Dangers of Reading Aloud

If the book you are reading is laugh out loud funny, and you feel compelled to read aloud the parts that make you laugh out loud, some in your house may feel you are reading out loud too much.  But the real risk is that someone may feel you are reading too slow or leaving out other good parts, and when you lay your book down they will pick it up and start reading it to themselves.  And then they will be laughing out loud and reading you the really funny parts.  And if you happen to be in the shower when they leave for school, your book may end up in a backpack inaccessible to you for they rest of the day. 
Don't say I didn't warn you.

In The Badlands

May 2009

That is where I am in the process of archiving my pictures.  The Queen of Queens congratulated me because she thinks I only have one year to go.  She evidently thinks I have started with the oldest pictures and worked my way forward through time.  In fact, I have archived one year--2010--and I am working my way back through time.  I am almost half way through 2009.  I don't remember when I started taking digital pictures.  Or where the pictures prior to 2007 are.  I know that I have boxes of unlabeled and unsorted pictures and negatives and slides dating back over 30 years.  And now I have several DVDs. 

I vaguely recall an old Star Trek episode where they find these old discs on a deserted planet and the engineer on the away team figures out how to make the computer play them.  Someday, if someone from another planet's away team finds my archives, they will not have a clue what life was really like here. 

Here is the Goob's interpretation of this picture from our trip through the badlands:   He is saying, "Can I get back in the car now?"  I am saying, "Stand here and get your picture taken.  We need this for the family archives."  

Four Twentyfourths Equals One Sixth

So far, so good, with my two books a month, but should I be 1/6 done with all my goals for the year?
Two thoughts from Forgotten God then:
1.  What must a caterpillar think when it wakes up from a long nap with wings and can fly?  Behold I am a new creation.  The Spirit of Him Who raised Jesus from the dead lives in me.  Pretty sure I am not taking advantage of all that means in my life.  I don't want to crawl when I can fly.
2.  I need to worry less about "God's will for my life." God cares more about my response to His Spirit's leading today, in this moment, than what I plan to do next year.  Walk by the Spirit.  Instead of worrying about His will for my future, I need to ask God what He wants me to do in the next ten minutes. 
Pretty sure it was not 'eat a bag of Honey BBQ Flavor Twist Fritos.'

Books Five and Six?
The Grasshopper Trap by Patrick F. McManus
Fearless by Max Lucado

Clean Sweep-Month 2

In January I cleaned the oven, the china cabinet, and the chandelier.  February was a shorter month, but I still managed to clean out my gastrointestinal tract, my cell phone contacts, and my checking account.

Can We Talk?

When the STP took the ice water plunge last week he took his phone along.  Even in my near death state I had enough sense to not ask (out loud) if he didn't think as he was turning around and clutching for the edge of the ice as he was going down about pulling his phone out of his pocket and hurling it back onto the dry ice.  
Lets back up.  Last summer on the tour training trip the STP put his phone in my bike bag.  In the same section where I put my cold water bottle.  Which sweated onto the STP's phone and fried it.  Which he thought was pretty much my fault.  Which I didn't quite see the same way.  My bottle in my bike bag was a problem for his phone?  We agreed to disagree about whose fault the fried phone was.  (Let's call this fried phone #1.) The STP used his free upgrade and several hundred more dollars and a $29.99 a month plan increase to replace his phone.  With a smart phone.  The STP wanted to know if I wanted to free upgrade my phone then, but I had barely had it two years and hadn't really learned how to use it yet.  And by use it, I mean sometimes I had trouble answering it, and the only way I knew to silence a call was to flip it open and then hang up on whoever was calling. 
So when the STP took his smart phone with him on the polar plunge last week (Lets call this fried phone #2 but since we are so glad the STP is ALIVE we are not going to assign blame for this one.  As long as its clear it was certainly not my fault.)  I let him use my upgrade.  So my free upgrade and $100.00 later the STP has a DROID.  Which is evidently even smarter and will do amazing things.  Like send and recieve FB messages from Obiwan. 
Okay, now back to this morning.  When the STP picks up clothes from the bathroom floor and starts a load of laundry.  Which includes the jeans I was going to rewear today.  The ones with my flipping cell phone still in the pocket.  Were my jeans in that load? 

Here is where I should insert the picture of my cellphone at the bottom of the washer under two inches of water at the beginning of the rinse cycle.  (Lets call this fried phone #3.)

But the STP and I were busy trying to decide whose fault this was. Mine for leaving my phone in my pocket near the laundry or his for picking up not quite laundry and not checking the pockets before starting the laundry.  There were a few tense moments.  Then we realized that a sunken cell phone was not the end of the world.  And neither of us said anything (out loud) that we will have to bring up at future counseling sessions. 
So the Goob gave me his upgrade, (which I combined with $0.00) and I have a new phone that has a slidey QWERTY keyboard.  And no contact information.  I explained to the helpful 14 year old salesclerk how I used my phone, and she spoke a little louder and slower, "Both my parents have this phone." And as soon as they make a phone that is smart enough to be WATERPROOF I will be happy to upgrade again.  In the meantime, we added the insurance to the STP's phone.  Because it is pretty clear who fries the most phones on our plan. 

Lets not miss the good news here.  There was enough room in my jeans pocket yesterday to comfortably carry my phone.  Am I having a good week, or what?

Back From The Brink With The Stewarts

I thought about just giving up my blog, but since you all have been clamouring and demanding new posts returning here day after day searching for meaning in your life blissfully unaware I had not posted in over a week wondering what could possibly have happened to me, I am going to just go ahead and tell you.  Let's start last Thursday.
The STP and the Goob were father-son bonding over some late afternoon ice fishing.  And I was baking chewy cherry chocolate chunk cookies from Martha Stewart's Living Magazine which I almost have a subscription to.  I decided not to renew my Better Homes and Gardens Magazine because Martha wrote and made me such a good offer.  And she was going to send me a free tote bag.  And her cooking magazine.  And it was an offer I could refuse just by writing 'cancel' on my bill if I wasn't totally satisfied.  But when the bill came Martha added a surprise 'shipping fee' which doubled the price of the offer.  And it seems to me that a mail subscription to a magazine should include the cost of mailing it.  So even though it was probably still a good offer, I had to write 'cancel' on the bill as a matter of principle and send it back to Martha.  So I only got one copy of Living and no tote bag.  But there was this one good cookie recipe I wanted to try, so I was trying it out for the Goob's class fundraiser bake sale.  And I may have eaten some raw cookie dough.  And I had a headache the size of a brain aneurysm and a slightly upset stomach.
Enter the STP who had fallen through the ice into the freezing ice water. With all his frozen clothes.  And his frozen fish.  And by the time he got home, I was almost too sick to care.  Too close to death myself to realize how close to death he had been.  So when the friend who pulled the STP out of the lake stopped by to see if he was okay, I graciously thanked him with a plate of chewy cherry chocolate chunk cookies.  I should probably mention that two years ago I had taken this man's first born son up on the mountain and involved him in a four wheeler accident that I still have parent guilt over, so now the STP and I are both in deep with this guy.  I almost killed your son and you saved my husband's life--how about half a dozen of Martha Stewart's February cookies?  I think I will have to offer him my first born son instead. 
This actually solves a problem the STP and I have been working on for over a year.  Our Last Will and Testament.  Our Current (Last) Will was crafted when we had three little girls.  I'm not sure who gets the kids, but I'm sure they did not even imagine the Goob when they agreed to take our kids in the unlikely case of the STP and I dying the same week.  They do not know how close we came this week.
My headache stayed for three days and my slightly upset stomach developed into an involuntary colon cleanse.  It was not a 'good thing'.   But while I was like Martha Stewart and the STP was like Jimmy Stewart (in It's A Wonderful Life) we both survived. 
But aren't you kind of curious if you're in our will?

Just a Heads Up

We had the head gasket replaced in the car yesterday.  Amidala says it is important to have your head gasket functioning properly because it keeps your minion gaskets in line.  (She has lived with her Pap several times throughout her life and obviously gets her vast car repair savvy from him.)

After All These Years

Finally after 35 Valentine's Days we have got this right.  The STP got me 1 ounce of French lettuce seeds .  Because he knows I've always wanted to go to France.  And since that is so not happening this year I can instead plant 60 square feet of 14 varieties of French lettuce.  Since I devote two of the sixteen square feet of my SFG to lettuce, that is enough for 30 plantings.  Magnifique!  
But that is not all.  No that is not all.  The STP took the other love of my life (The Goob) on the biannual Valentine's Day ice fishing trip today.  On the way back from the lake he stopped by the Cowboy Chocolatier and brought me home some fine Meeteetse Mud along with 6 fish.  Cause if there is one thing I like better than French lettuce it is Belgian chocolate. 
And speaking of two feet, lets talk briefly about my gift to the STP.  You must know here that I inherited my gift giving savvy directly from my Dad.  (There will be a chapter on this in one of the books.  I'm not sure if it will be in my Mom's book or my Dad's book, but I'm pretty sure there is enough material on this subject for two chapters.)  And remember that I also inherited his feet.  Dry scaley feet that snag blankets and make all pantyhose single use.  So as a gift to my dear husband, I soaked and sanded and creamed and emu oiled my feet until they were no longer like coarse sandpaper.  And then I painted all nine of my toenails bright red.  And I was pretty sure they were the sexiest two feet around.  Right up until I tried to take a picture to show you. 

And they looked kind of wrinkled.

And mishapen.
And it was hard to hide that one big toe.(But I'm not really ready to blog about the mower accident of '93.)

Close ups were no better. 
One foot no better than two.

And it went from bad to worse.  From ridiculous...

....to grotesque.

So I decided to share my chocolate with the STP.  And at the end of the day it was all good.
Its good to know that our love isn't based on gifts.  It is a gift.
Still love you, STP.  After all these years.

Glorious One

It was a dark and dreary morning.  It has been an especially long and cloudy winter. 
And as you probably already know it is not usually like that here.

You may also know that I have been enamored with sunrises, sunsets, moon halos and eclipses.  This past year was full of the most spectacular displays in the sky above my head.  And I have marvelled at the magnificence of the celestial bodies and the God who created them and holds them in place.  But Monday, on my way to work, I was listening to Steve Fee's song "Glorious One".  And I wasn't just listening.  I was singing along with reckless abandon like I can only when I am alone in my car on a deserted stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere.  (I think I will be able to sing like this in heaven, only better.  Surely with my glorified new body I will get a glorified new voice as well.  Although I think my heavenly Father is pleased to hear me sing His praises even with my less-than-glorified voice.  Kind of like how moms are happy to get a handful of dandelions from their kids.)  Anywho, as I was listening and singing, God Himself was providing the background visuals to the lyrics.  And even though the day was cloudy in the east and I could not see the sunrise, the sky in the west  opened up and the sun shone down in shades of pink and lit up the snow covered mountains.  Like God Himself doing the worship powerpoint.





Glorious One

Glorious One

Light of the world

You outshine the sun

And I was reminded that God is greater than, more magnificent than, in fact, outshines, the sun.  What a great God. 

Our hands are lifted high

our hearts are bowing reverence

and we're surrounded by

the glory of Your presence

While my heart was reverent, I kept both eyes on the road and I only lifted one hand at a time. 

With every heart that's been redeemed

we're lifting our song to the Glorious King

But I lifted my song and I set it on repeat.

With every creature every tongue

We're lifting our voice to the Glorious One

And I think the rocks on the mountaintops were crying out as well.  It was just that kind of morning.
On my way home it was snowing and blowing like crazy and I was listening to "Jesus Paid It All"

Sin had left a crimson stain

He washed it white as snow

White as snow, white as snow.  I was going to take my snowflakes down off the porch today, but I decided to leave them a few more weeks.  As a right-out-there-in-front-of-God-and-everyone reminder of how great my God is.

O praise the One who paid my debt

And raised this life up from the dead

Valentine's Contest

The Dodge City Gazette has a Valentine's Day contest with great prizes.  You have to identify baby/childhood pictures of several couples from town.  (Young people ((like myself!))who are new to town are at a definate disadvantage.)  Last year I did not play.  This year I did.  I interviewed people at Dodge City Federal S&L.  I asked people at church.  I changed my answers several times.  Basically, I cheated.  But by Monday morning I had it ready to turn in.  The only problem was that the Gazette office opens at 9:00am and the contest closed at 4:00pm.  And I worked out of town from 8:00am to 4:30pm.  Normally, I would ask the STP to run this errand for me, but he was still in a state of PSD (Post Superbowl Depression) so I was just going to drop it in the mail slot on my way out of town Monday morning.  Only, go figure, the Gazette does not have a mail drop. 
Being the resourceful person I am, and determined to actually enter the contest, I dropped my entry into the night drop at the bank instead.  Because that is the benenfit of living in a small town.  So my wonderful co-worker at the bank dropped off my entry on her lunch break.  And if I win, I am taking her to dinner. 
Winners could be annnounced in this week's Gazette.  What with that and girl scout cookies being delivered this month, I have a lot to look forward to.

February's Project Circa 2009

Some projects take longer than others.  I finally put some of the Queen of Queens' wedding pictures together and had them printed into a shutterfly book. Just took me a little over three years.  Here is my wedding advice:  get some good pictures. I have already finished my February project.  It was only two years in the making.  Two summers ago I bought an old window from the Shell Community Hall.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it.  Over time I have had several ideas.  From simply using it as a picture frame to suspending it from the ceiling over my pony wall.  (Even though I don't have a pony wall.)  Then I got the map idea. 

First I had to procure the maps.  From a map lover who has had them since the 1980's.  And then I had to cut them up to fit the window panes.

There was something about cutting the maps that felt sacrilegious--something akin to cashing in my savings bonds.  (Gosh, I love my Dad.)  Once I had my western map I had this Bonanza moment where I felt the need to burn something, so I burned the edges of the map scale.  And I added some big horn sheep photos.

And a few coat and hat hooks.

And then I had the STP attach it to the wall. And voila!

A place for the STP to hang his hat. And a project finished.

The fact that I got to use both my sander and a paintbrush is just a bonus.

January's Project Circa 2007

Click here to view this photo book larger

3/24 Reduced to 1/8

Finished my library book.  (Cold days are good for reading.) Blink.  A quick read about thinking quickly.  Not sure what I thought about it although it did prompt me to think about how I think and how I make decisions.  And whether or not I really like Pepsi better than Coke. 
Moving on to Francis Chan's Forgotten God.

Avoiding Fines

Today I went to my public library with my library card and checked out a book.  I tell you this so you can remind me to return it in two weeks.  Thanks.

Booyah!

Weather for Dodge City, WY


-25°F
Current: Clear
Wind: E at 4 mph

Not celebrating the temperature, but am celebrating the miracle that my car started this morning. 

In The Wild

The clouds were very low.  The day was very gray and very cold.  There was frost on everything.

I was much better at spotting wild life than I was on my last sheep spotting trip.

I was not much better at photographing the wild life.

Although, if you take 100 pictures, some of them may have mule deer in them.

Or if you are especially lucky--elk.

I consider myself to have been especially lucky yesterday.

Weekend Update

Saturday:
Exotic fruit in Bountiful Basket: 
Pummelo.  It is either an ancestor of the grapefruit or a distant relative of Pinnocchio

Sunday:
Wildlife viewed (in the wild):
Antelope
Bald Eagles
Big horn sheep
Elk
Mule deer
Whitetail deer

A Kiwi Cooking Fool

Our last bountiful basket came with an abundance of kiwis.  The men who live in my house decided that they didn't just want to eat the kiwis, they wanted to make something with kiwis.  So they googled kiwi recipes and printed three of their favorites.  And they gave me the recipes.  You already know how the fish turned out.  This is the dessert recipe.  I actually had everything in the house that I needed except the sour cream (and the garnish which I chose to omit).

The problem was not in the ingredients  It was with the preparation.

Which, as you can see had a few more than three steps.  It involved a sauce pan, and dividing and reserving.  And I lost count of how many times it requested a separate bowl. When I was done this is what I had:  

And a lovely kiwi cranberry fool dessert which looked like this:

I passed the recipe on to a friend who has not used up her kiwis yet.  I don't think I will be needing this recipe again.  Too labor intensive for me.
After dinner the STP inquired about the third recipe.  Sadly, I had to inform him I was out of kiwis.

  

One Way to Skin a Fish

In support of my daughter who is cooking and blogging bizarre foods this week, I documented my culinary exploits of the day.  I started the morning by making gluten free mixed berry walnut muffins.  They were good enough to eat.  Then I made dessert for tonight and put it in the fridge.
After work I made Chilean Sea Bass encrusted with Ginger Snaps served with a Kiwi Lime Sauce for supper.  With liberal substitutions.  Because I couldn't find any Chilean Sea Bass (or any other firm white fish as the recipe suggested), I had to substitute Meeteetse Lake Cutthroat Trout.  The STP caught them on his last ice fishing trip and they were already cleaned and in the freezer.  So they were Cold Fish from a Large Body of Water in an Exotic Place.   (See the similarity to Chilean Sea Bass?)

And because I wanted the ginger snap crumbs to be on the fish and not on the fish skin, I had the STP skin the fish.  With his fish skinner.  Which I bought him many years ago at a yard sale.  I am including a video of the fish skinner in action, in case you ever see one at a yard sale, you will know what it is and recognize it's tremendous value. 

And because the STP is gluten free, I used a bag of gluten free ginger snaps instead of baking my own.  And when it came to the kiwi lime sauce I pretty much substituted everything from the white wine to the fresh ginger (except the honey).   The appearance of the resulting sauce was less than appetizing.  (In fact, 'bile-like' may be an apt descripter.)  So I am not including any pictures of the sauce. 

 The end result was better than I expected. 

 

The sauce was a nice addition if you don't mind looking at bile sauce while you eat your fish. 

Cowboy Swing Dancing Leads To...

So baby why don't we just dance down the hall

maybe straight up the stairs bouncin' off the wall
floatin' on air baby why don't we just dance?

These are lyrics from another country song that the STP has probably never heard.  Tonight is our second dance class.  I'm sure he is looking forward to it.  I know I am.

Two Twentyfourths

Finished Book #2.  Mark Batterson's Wild Goose Chase.  Here are the gems from what I read tonight: 

Set God-sized goals. One reason many of us get entangled in sin is because we don't have enough God-ordained vision to keep us busy.  Lack of goals is a lack of faith.  We need to dream God-sized dreams. 

Makes me wonder how big is God-sized?  I'm thinking that buying goat cheese from the deli and not being eaten by bears are not exactly God-sized goals. I might need to rethink my list.  (Although organizing my photos may well require a miracle.)
Also, I think 'God-sized' will be the next size of drink at Starbucks.  Trenti, Venta, God-sized?

At My Door

Yesterday my doorbell rang.  The SLD barked. And a cute little girl peeked in the window.  Could it be?  Girls Scouts at my door? 
This is the first year since we moved that there have been Girl Scouts in Dodge City. I have been looking forward to the cookie sale since I first heard the news.  I have already filled in four order forms at Dodge City Federal.  But Girl Scouts at the door.  Irresistable.  I invited them in.  I was enthusiastic.  I thanked them for coming.  I treated them like rock stars.  I even asked if I could take their picture.  In fact, I may have exhibited all of the behaviors they warned them about in 'door-to-door selling'. 
There are only 10 Girls Scouts in Dodge City.  So far I have ordered cookies from 60% of them. 
Just doing my part.  

One 24th

Also on the list for this year is to 'read two books a month'.  For January I am finishing two books I had already started.  Today I finished "Death in Yellowstone."  I've been reading it since the Fall of 2009.  I borrowed it back then.  I will return it this week.  Kind of embarrassed how long it has taken me.  Kind of glad I finished it. 
The other book is "Wild Goose Chase."  I believe I will finish it this week.  Two of the things Mark Batterson maintains is that it should not be my goal to arrive at death as healthy as possible and that Jesus did not die to make me boring.  A lot of thinking about death here.  And about how I fill my time between now and death. 
Next month maybe I will read somthing less deep.  Like a trashy romance novel.  
And avoid being eaten by bears.
It's important to set achievable goals.

Things One Should Not Do

One should not go to a country swing dancing class one evening and watch The Horse Whisperer the following evening.  Especially if one has had a crush on Robert Redford since she was in high school.  It will make one hanker for a pair of cowboy boots and Robert Redford to touch the small of one's back. 

If the STP figures out how to use this to his advantage, country western could be his new favorite music.



Swing High

The STP and I signed up to take a swing dancing class at the Dodge City Rec Center.  Which is to say that I signed the STP and me up to take a swing dancing class at the Rec Center.  When I went to sign up the full title of the class turned out to be "Country Swing Dancing".  I was going to avoid mentioning that 'country' part to the STP.  But when he started playing his old swing music this morning, I thought I had better fess up.  So he would know what to expect.  Or at least what not to expect.  We start tonight.  I expect I'll either have a good time or a good story. 

Grace, Grace

Your worst days are never so bad that you are beyond the reach of God's grace.  And your best days are never so good that you are beyond the need of God's grace.  Every day should be a day of relating to God on the basis of His grace alone.

--Jerry Bridges

Just a reminder.

My Wish

I grew up listening to country music.  Back before it was cool for young people to listen to country music.  It was my parents' music.  Now I only listen to country music in my car.  The STP considers country music an oxymoron.  If he is in my car for more than a minute he changes the radio station.  Sometimes he changes the station when he is just walking by the car.  Rascal Flatts sings this song.  

I hope you never look back, but ya never forget,

All the ones who love you, in the place you left,

I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,

And you help somebody every chance you get,

Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,

And you always give more than you take.

But more than anything, yeah, and more than anything,

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,

Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,

You never need to carry more than you can hold,

And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,

I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,

Yeah, this, is my wish.

It made me think of my girls on my way to work this morning.  I must confess that I have no idea who Rascal Flatts is.  I think he might look like Alfalfa from the Little Rascals--only flatter.  Of course I get Lady Gaga mixed up with Lady Antebellum, who evidently is not a lady at all, but a group of mostly men.  Go figure.  The reason I don't know these things is because my girls are gone.   They were the ones who kept me current.  Who kept me from embarrassing myself with my total lack of knowledge of all current culture things.  Like wearing Corona sandals to church camp.  Who knew?  They did, of course.  So while I do wish that their dreams stay big and that they know that I love them, my real wish is that they were closer.  I really miss them.

What You Already Are

The Princess made a series of lists this week.  Including this one of what she wants to be.  What she might not know is that I've made a few lists of my own on this same subject. 

Here is a list of what I wanted her to be. I have a list like this for each of her sisters as well.  Each list is a little different.  Adjusted for each of their little individual personalities.  A list of what I, as their mother,wanted them to be.

Along with each trait, I have listed a corresponding Bible verse. 

 The Queen of Queens discovered my list and edited it for me.  (She has been making her own lists since she only knew seven letters of the alphabet.)

 I have had these lists in the same notebook for over twenty years. (Most recently it was in the yellow basket in the dining room.)  I never stopped wanting the best for my girls.  But I wasn't always as intentional as I wanted to be in moving them in the right direction.  But this week, when I looked over each of the lists I had made for them so many years ago, I realized that they already are these things.  I can't think of anyone more compassionate than the Princess.  Or any one more generous than the Queen.  Or anyone more unselfish than Amidala.  So while the big goal was to grow them up and move them out, and it seems like we focused a lot of time and energy on learning to do things, it is encouraging to see who they became.  And I love who they are.

Happy Feet

I have these great socks.  Hand knit socks.  My wonderful sister knit them for me.  I wore them today and they made me happy.  I used to not wear them very often, because I didn't want them to wear out.  But today I decided that if they get a hole in them, I will still be happy that I had them. 

The Bottom of the Basket

I spent the last two days sorting through papers from 2010 and getting my files ready for 2011. Just when I thought I was done (and declared just that) the STP asked if I had cleaned out the yellow basket.  The yellow basket stays under the temporary table in the dining room.  I put important things in there that I don't know what else to do with.  And when company is coming for dinner and we need the whole table for the meal, I scoop the pile of papers off the table and put it in the basket with a promise to deal with it later.  Yesterday was later.  I emptied that basket and sorted it into piles on the big room floor. And then I dealt with most of it.  (There were just a few things I still had no idea what to do with so I put them back in the basket.) 
In the basket there were three lists of goals and things to do this year.  Every list had 'sort and organize photos' or some variant thereof.  Every list has 'eat healthy' and 'lose weight'.  Even though they are not dated I can put them in order by the amount of weight I was going to lose. 
So far this year I have lost 0.5 pounds.  I guess I need to pick up the pace.
Never give up.  Never surrender.

Stolen Blessings

I stole this blessing from Mark Batterson's blog, but I mean it for you.  And for me.  (I did the pancake art myself.)

May you be full of life and good health. May you be surrounded by authentic friends. May you find strength in the Lord when others tear you down. May you live by the covenant God has given and hold his Word dear to your heart. May God bless the talent He has given to you, that it would be realized in full potential for His purposes. May you find rest and peace in the midst of God’s presence. May this be a year of abundant provision for your every need. May God give you resolve and persistence to overcome for His good purposes. May you live in thankfulness and lead others into righteousness. May God give you the courage to speak grace and truth. May you grow into the place of leadership God has destined for you. May the favor of the Lord drench the fullness of your life. May you trust the living God to guide & protect you. May you continue to live with the knowledge of your salvation. God is your protector and helper in all times. May you experience the fullness of God’s destined blessing this coming year. Amen.

(Adapted from Deuteronomy 33. Thanks to Executive Pastor, Joel Schmidgall, for the message and the blessing.)

EVOO

Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Deli Purchases Put to Good Use

Dear Italian SIL,  Please do not read this post.  It will be too traumatic for you.

Last evening I cooked.  I zested a lemon and pressed a garlic clove and caramelized some onions.  I made my own lemon vinaigrette.  I used my goat cheese and my prosciutto. And some EVOO.  I felt pretty much like an Italian chef.  I practiced saying Mootserell.  I started with appetizers.  

Of course, I didn't follow the recipe exactly.  I could not find fig jam in Dodge City. (I briefly considered making my own.  After all, a woman who can zest a lemon could surely jam a fig or two.) So I substituted red plum jam.  And I couldn't find arugula.  So I used Romaine lettuce in it's place.And in the end I had wonderful little appetizers. 

I had three of them.  For people with little appetites. 

 And since none of the three people eating here was remotely Italian, nor remotely interested in little appetizers, it was all good. 

And then I used the rest of my goat cheese and the rest of my prosciutto and a boatload of mootserell and made a gluten free calzone.  Which was stellar, if I must say so myself.

I used my Pampered Chef Pastry brush to apply the EVOO.

 All I need now is my Italian SIL to tell me if EVOO is pronounceable.

. 

Deli-t-ful

Yesterday was the day I went to the deli. 

I went right after work because I knew if I went home I would not go back out and I would put it off for another day.  It was not as scary as I had made it out to be.  I didn't have to stand in line or take a number.  A very helpful deli worker offered to help me before I even knew what I wanted.  I was frantically scanning the deli case for goat cheese.  I didn't see any goat cheese or prosciutto.
Me:  Do you have goat cheese?
Deli Girl:  Yes,  over there.   And she helpfully directed me to the goat cheese.
Me:  Do you have prosciutto?
Deli Girl:  What?
Me:  Prosciutto? (Oh no.  I was pronouncing it the only way I knew how.  Like my Italian SIL.  What if it was like Mozzarella--Mootzerell?  But since I didn't have an alternate pronunciation I pressed on...) Thin sliced ham-like meat?
DG to self:  Where is this woman from?  Has she never been to a deli counter before?  What will she do with these exotic food items?  How long till my break?
DG to Me:  Yes, over there.  Right next to the goat cheese.
Me:  Oh.  Umm, thank you.

Witness then my first purchases from the deli in Dodge City. 

Yet somehow buying prepackaged items labeled 'deli' did not seem to meet the criteria of buying something from the deli.  And I'm pretty sure my Italian SIL would not even consider this a deli.  So I fought the urge to call it a day and spoke to the Deli Girl once more.

Me:  Umm, can I have half a pound of turkey breast?

(I had no plan to buy turkey breast.  I had no plan to use turkey breast.)

Deli girl:  Sliced?

Me:  Ummm, yes?

Deli girl:  For sandwiches?
Me:  Umm? Yes! 
Of course, our gluten free existence does not really lend itself to sandwiches.  But as I did not have another plan, I welcomed the sandwich idea and just went with it.

TA DA!  Ms. Brenda conquers fear of deli counter. 

Oh, that all my goals were so easily accomplished.

Not Going There

I may be avoiding the grocery store because of the deli counter. When I finally get to the deli counter I am going to buy something exotic.  Like goat cheese or prosciutto.  Or maybe both and I am going to combine them with lemon zest and make little appetizers.  Do you think this is too ambitious for the first week of January?

Clean Sweep

Things I cleaned this week:
1.  The oven
2.  The china cupboard
3.  The chandelier

Set the Timer and Run

I like that my kids took this picture of themselves.  I like that they like each other.  I'd like them to really be all in a vehicle headed to see me.  I'd like it to be warmer than 3 degrees above zero so that when they got here we could go and play in the park.   Can you tell I miss my kids? 

Relatively Speaking

My Dad always claimed that there were some of my Mom's relatives that he liked better than his own.  For instance, he was fonder of her mother-in-law than he was of his.
A coworker shared this story about her mother-in law on Christmas: 
M-I-L:  In the 28 years you've been married to Joe, this is the first year you got me something that actually fits.
Some women just know how to give out a compliment, don't they?
No new mother-in-law stories for me.  From here on I AM the mother-in-law and I will be saying and doing things to keep my sons-in-law's lives interesting.  (Love you guys.)
And, oddly enough, I do miss my mother-in-law.

Men in Hats

Ever since we moved to Wyoming the STP has wanted a truck and a hat.  I mean ever since we thought about moving to Wyoming.  (Maybe he has been dreaming of a truck and a hat since he was a little boy.)   I was not in favor of either one.  (Remember that I am a 'late adopter'.)   Last May he got his truck.  For Christmas he finally got his hat.  And I might like his hat even more than I like his truck.  

And when he wears his hat in his truck, I wonder why I resisted so long. 

The Goob already has a hat, but it is not particularly Western.  I couldn't even imagine him as a cowboy.  But maybe there's more wild west in him than he lets on. 

Or maybe a truck and a hat just bring out his inner outlaw. 

I love these guys.

1/1/11 A Little Behind

Still have a few blog posts from 2010 rattling around in my head.  The phrase 'just a little behind' comes to mind. I am posting this from my new laptop.  Trying to figure out Windows 7 (whose idea was this?).  Remember when you had a cordless phone and I had a rotary phone attached to the wall?  And the week after I got my cell phone (with 30 -count them- anytime minutes) which was the size of a small walkie-talkie and everyone else got a flip phone?  Well now I have a phone that flips and I finally figured out how to send a text message and everyone else has a slidey smart phone with a full keyboard.  And now that everyone else has an Ipad, I am trying to figure out how to use the touchpad on my laptop.  Mark Batterson used the term 'late adopter' to describe himself in these matters.  I think 'late adopter' appeals to me more than 'old fogey'.
Besides buying chipped ham, I am going to master this computer and add
2.  Organize my digital photos
to my list of things to do in 2011.  I'm starting this weekend.  (Why are you laughing?  It could happen.)  While I am at it, I might as well add
3.  Reach and maintain a healthy weight. 
Oh, that 2011 would be the year I really got a little behind.