Rondo Street

Very Berry Kefir Smoothie

2012-01-29T18:11:00.000-05:00

Finding a way to incorporate Kefir into life - beyond our everyday standard issue pour in glass, drink.

This was mixed in a very typical blender - used the 'liquify' button - resulted in a bit over 32 ounces of smoothie.

BERRY KEFIR SMOOTHIE

2 cups ice

1 cup organic strawberry kefir

1 cup organic diced strawberries

2 cups organic blueberries

1/2 organic banana - chopped (mine was previously frozen)

1 capri sun juice bag! Yes...really...smacks the organic in the face but it's very low in carbs and the liquid was needed. Any flavor will do.

Roast by any other name....

2012-01-29T18:02:00.000-05:00

Adore this way of making a cheap cut of meat (chuck roast) taste a bit closer to a million bucks than the $14.36 it actually cost. I'm an eyeball it cook and a precise baker. The photo is as close to accurate as I get. But one thing I missed - the canola oil.

Heat some canola oil in a big enough Dutch oven or simply use a deep enough chef's pan knowing you'll be transferring into something else.

I used 1/2 the yellow onion - chopped. Add it to the meat - which has been rubbed with salt, pepper, & CUMIN - as it's quick searing in the oil. Throw in some of that garlic too...I like garlic....I LOVE garlic...and I love the convenience of organic in a jar. I probably used the equivalent of four whole garlics!

Transfer the meat to an oven-safe dish you can cover or keep it in the Dutch oven. Add the can of diced tomatoes, 1 cup of raisins, a bit more salt & pepper. If your canned tomatoes did not have much liquid, consider 1/2 cup of tomato juice.

COOK IT...Low...and....Slow....250F for about 2 hours for a 5lb roast.

Blame it on the Solar Flares

2012-01-26T14:37:00.001-05:00

I have determined to blame my behavior on the recent solar disturbances. The fact that I'm not tolerating certain behaviors is not because I'm judging (you?) - it's the environment I'm subjected to. There - now I'm 100% American.

So some random (solar flare induced) observations:

If you don't want to be treated like a piece of meat don't wear words on your butt.

(see above) but don't wear T Shirts that are far too small with words on your chest.

Complain about the drains on government assistance only if you've never yourself been assisted. And think hard before you assume you haven't - because if your company received a bail-out (and therefore your job was saved) congratulations - taxpayers saved your job...there are hosts of ways to be a "drain on government assistance"...think long and hard before you wade into that territory.

The concept of "fair" does not exist. Get over it. Move on. Re-naming 'jealousy' as something other than it is doesn't make it so. I tried re-naming 'fat' with 'slender'. Didn't work.

Homeschooling your child for your own good will result in really bad homeschooling. Homeschooling should be utterly inconvenient. If you're doing it to save money, save time, take vacations in January, prevent germs...none of those are valid reasons and most can be de-bunked. Just don't bother - there is nothing wrong with utilizing schools.

Whining is whining no matter how it's colored. Call it informing - call it sharing - call it making people aware. Doesn't matter. It's whining. Go ahead and whine. It's your right. Just call it what it is (see above re-naming). And don't wonder later why you don't have friends.

Being a physically ill adult is awful. No one wishes it on anyone. (Okay - maybe they do - but we try not to...) BUT if you had a life leading up to your illness that was free of illness. If you didn't shoot up insulin at 7 or undergo chemo at 5. If you didn't have a transplant at 12 or lose a limb when you were 10...well, it seems you are far better off than any ill child.

Feel free to exercise and eat right. Feel free to not share it with the entire human race until you have a proven track record. I'm really just saving people from themselves here - because if you bought a $5,000 exercise machine, told us all about it....and never used it. Well you'll just feel silly and get mad at the rest of us for asking how your workout program is going.

Remember - solar flares. I can't help it.

A Review: full of no regrets?

2011-12-06T20:17:00.000-05:00

I received a copy of Regret Free Parenting from the publisher...that is my disclaimer. However, what I read and what I have to say probably wouldn't require a disclaimer. Sometimes a book's title sucks a reader to it, in spite of what their usual preference for reading may be, because the title makes promises. Much like a diet supplement that makes the user pray that a pill will result in a twenty pound loss while sitting on the couch. "Regret free" anything is pretty much a goal of most individuals. "Regret Free Parenting", therefore, is certainly an attractive thought.

Our author is most definitely experienced, a licensed therapist for many years, Catherine Hickem's knowledge and the stories and experiences she's shared with people is most certainly applaudable and not in doubt. Nor is Ms. Hickem's ultimate goal in helping parents - most notably mothers - get past so many parenting nightmares and become "intentional" in all that they do.

The writing is clear, succinct, mostly to the point. The books is clearly divided and written at a level that is understandable. My concern, and the portion that leaves me at 2 stars, is the premise that intentional parenting = regret free parenting. The connection is tenuous at best and while good intentions are well and fine, the idea that by being intentional in my mothering, I will end up at regret-free...well, in this world the connection, to this reader, is just not possible.

Finally, the full title - which I purposely saved for the end of this posting - Regret Free Parenting: Raise Good Kids and Know You're Doing It Right ....it's an unusual premise and title for a piece of work coming from a Christian publisher....no mention of from Whom our help in raising these children comes from. And, honestly, when my time of raising up my children is done I will be thankful and breathe a sigh of contentment if they end up as Christ-followers..."good kids" is not even on my radar.

Ten Years To Forgiveness

2011-05-03T09:16:00.001-04:00

Thanks to my earlier bedtime, I awoke yesterday to the news of Osama Bin Laden's death at the hands of a group of braver-than-I Navy Seals. I missed the parties and revelry and random public demonstrations that ensued at the announcement and I even missed the early social media threads. Thank goodness Facebook and the like allow me to go back in time and relive every moment of consciousness shared by the populous.

Thank goodness.

Ten years ago I sat at home holding an infant, just shy of her first birthday, watching the Today Show as a bottle was distributed and another toddler played cars at my feet. The first plane was an 'accident'. The second had Matt Lauer wondering aloud whether this was premeditated. By the time a third fell into fields in Pennsylvania we all knew in some measure what was happening.

Ten years later we've had the benefit of the news media pointing out the frivolity of our then Commander-In-Chief attacking terrorists verbally and otherwise. We have had movie versions and been Datelined to death and in some psycho experiment drawn from The Twilight Zone we are officially desensitized to the massive loss of life and the fear that some moms felt while holding infants somewhere in the Midwest.

Except when it comes to those poor terrorists. We should be loving all over them. Or so goes the hoax of a quote that has traversed its way through Facebook. I'm not even going to re-quote it here because it's a dreadful, made up sentiment attributed to Martin Luther King, Jr. (Google it and you're sure to find all sorts of information on MLK, Jr. loving his enemies.) The quote doesn't make historical sense and it doesn't make present day sense.

Yet here we go again. Loving our enemies and choosing to forget that God is "jealous"...that He "hates"...we pick apart Scripture (and more often than not shove it aside for what feels right) and avoid things like:

"Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the LORD understand it completely." (Proverbs 28:5, ESV)

God does love. And He surely longs for our reconciliation. And for those concerned more about repaying evil for evil, consider instead that ten year have passed. TEN YEARS. That's a decade. For that baby I held it's approximately a lifetime. There has been ten years to forgive, to receive a mea culpa from the enemy...ten years is plenty of time to allow for peace. And so 66 years to the date that another madman, one A. Hitler, met his Maker another master of terror has met his. I choose to hate what is evil and cling to what is good. I suggest you do as well.

Why Being 10 With Diabetes.....

2011-03-26T19:53:00.000-04:00

......really stinks....

growing....growing is cool. Growing throws off blood sugar. Crazy. Can't win this one.
hormones....I don't know if I'd call them "cool" but they are necessary. Yup. There goes the blood sugar.
numbers....now the 10 year old I love is good at math. But her life is now governed by numbers. And that's not always fun. Sometimes the challenge is at least interesting...not "fun"....and when the number is too too high that same 10 year old feels like she failed. Big time.
shots.....my lovely little brunette girl is a trooper. These aren't bad. But trying to look "normal" and needing shots at really inopportune times stinks. Really stinks.

.......can have it's okay moments....

it can be hard being unique as a kid...it can be hard being unique, period. This earns a gal some unique points.
when an athletic little girl has Type 1 diabetes, there are moments of utter bliss called post-sports low blood sugar. Now I don't advocate low blood sugar, but...but....BUT....when they happen after, say, a basketball game? Carbs! Free carbs to get the level to a sane level. That kind of rocks especially after a particularly hard week.

It's been "one of those weeks"....of super highs after weeks of lows....of tears shed over numbers.....a bit of mourning over what was (and perhaps not knowing what we had until it was gone...like a fully functioning pancreas).....but it wrapped up with some well-earned carb celebration thanks to two (plus) hours of basketball. And the smile that resulted kind of wiped away the tears of a week.

"Mom, who did you tell first?"

2011-03-16T20:32:00.000-04:00

It seems that we all get to that age where we realize that the hallmark of friendship is "who did you tell first?". My daughter reminded me of this tonight when she asked - quite out of the blue - who I told first about her diabetes. She wanted to know who got the info while we were still in the trenches of the ER. It was an interesting conversation and one of those moments where you realize that your little girl is becoming an older girl and remember a lot of the angst that comes with being a girl. Who you tell first is integral to womanhood.

What I didn't add to my (short) list, was the fact that I don't think we should be blamed for not calling everyone first. I mean, really, does "first" mean anything if everyone gets to be it? It's like those darn "Participant" ribbons they started handing out for every athletic event in elementary school. I mean, I'm not inherently cruel and I'm all for soothing the child who is crying over last place, encouraging the 8th place runner to perhaps shoot for 7th next time, and maybe even guiding a 4'1" hurdler into the 50 yard dash. But I'm also all for acknowledging 1st and 2nd and 3rd....especially when we know those individuals really worked to earn these places.

So to with friendship. I am blessed to count many as friends. I'm uniquely blessed to count some old-time friends in that mix...the people that knew me back when. And I have friends and acquaintances and family. But someone had to be first and second and third. And that's how it goes. And I think it's okay.

And in case you wonder, I'm okay with not being the first call for everyone....though I fully expect a call from a few friends rather than a participant ribbon.....

Another V-Day Come & Gone

2011-02-15T08:10:00.001-05:00

It is true love when two people with colds can look at one another across a crowded table and feel contentment. Not in the location (crowded & noisy) not necessarily in the all-alone-ness of it (took the kids) but in gratitude just for being there. For making it. For muddling at times. For soaring at others. For enduring.

I read yesterday of the longest marriage in Louisiana - 81 years I believe - that's the stuff of legends. The stuff of child brides (and grooms). That's the stuff of endurance. Of making it through (imagine) a Great Depression, World War, Korean War, Vietnam War....it's abiding in the midst of cultural shifts that 81 years can't even fathom back when they were on year 1. It speaks of "sticking it out" and of contentment...an emotion, feeling, state of being so often discounted and discarded. Of finding that contentment rather than seeking some vague notion of fulfilment. The two don't often go hand-in-hand but I'd much rather describe myself as the former rather than the latter.

In making it through as many Valentines as we have I can say that love is not a feeling - it's a state of being. And it isn't measured by the number of flowers one receives, the sappy poems one is capable of composing, nor of the necessity of being alone. I would submit that love is the ability to be together in the midst of chaos, of knowing when flowers have become (dare I say it) unnecessary....when legacy has perhaps taken primary importance - seen in the faces and natures of the children one has the privilege of raising. And surely, it is patient & kind...it keeps no record of wrongs....especially no record of wrongs....

To recall upon a loss....

2011-02-08T13:17:00.002-05:00

"...remember that all worlds draw to an end and that noble death is a treasure which no one is too poor to buy."

Some people get more....

2011-02-01T14:48:00.000-05:00

When we last encountered our blogger she was weathering a year of ups and downs and ups and downs, perhaps resting on her laurels a bit as the year rolled to a close. December was going to be a coast month....and the benefits of having a 2009 which was filled with all kinds of changes and falls from roofs and the like, was that providing for a Christmas in 2010 felt certainly more doable than in the past year.

(Gifts for kids - check)

But some people just get more.....

In this house we have seemed to get more challenges than average. Pollyanna over in the corner with a bag over her head is wanting to scream "BUT IT COULD BE WORSE!"....Pollyanna needs to sit in the corner a while longer.

December 2010 was the beginning of our collective lives with Type 1 Diabetes. 'The baby girl' spent some quality time in the ICU was blood sugars were levelled off and I pretended all was fine and well and giving multiple injections (and receiving multiple injections) is really like Disney World only better. Yup. Denial. Don't enter the ICU without it.

Even visitors just kind of half smiled and shook their heads. Not us again. Not another (insert big happening). I think sometimes our family tragedy bores people. It certainly has meant the phone lines have grown silent (you know who you are).

But in life...some people get more. And that's life. And I'm not sure I'd have it any other way. There's not another societal or political or economic system that would rectify the providential nature of this life we are given. Some people get more. Or less. Or less is more. It really depends on perspective. And in the end, who are we to say what is fair or just. (And the reality is - most of the time I wouldn't want what I justly deserve.)

Some people get more. And it behooves us all to acknowledge the times when the getting is good and that goodness could be spread around to someone else getting an added dose of bad.

For 2011 I plan on eating less carbs, reading fewer awful books, embracing my humor, unembracing a few people, and generally praying for the grace it takes to accept the moments of getting more (or less) in a fashion that perhaps will someday make the Giver just a bit proud of me.

TRADITION! (tradition!)

2010-11-01T08:58:00.000-04:00

November 1.

Today we have begun our school week with a customary journal entry. Appropriately entitled "What I'm Thankful For", the resulting work has always been an interesting picture into the minds of my children. We have, to quote Bing Crosby, "...plenty to be thankful for". And I suppose we always do, it's just that sometimes we have to be rather Pollyanna about our list of thanks.

There are years when we have to say things like "Thankful that Grandma is with Jesus this year" or "Thankful that Dad didn't impale himself when falling off the roof" or my personal unfavorite "Thankful the cancer was caught in time so we could enjoy time together". These are, truly, things to be thankful for. Yet they are simultaneously salt in some very human wounds. Being thankful is not necessarily an easy exercise.

Journal entries today included the following:

Dad has a job!
Grandpa is 87.
Ethan got better at cross country.
Mom is happy.
Dad doesn't have to work in the cold this year.
A house that is "mostly clean". (hmmmm)
Dogs.

This year's list is very personal. It didn't include material possessions (unless a "mostly clean house" counts as such) and it really pared down a lot of people. I think this is a natural happening in life - sometimes people get pared and children are the first to take note in some way. And that's okay. And it's honest. And though like the salt in human wounds, it hurts for a time, in the end there is thanks to be had.

November 1. Tradition!

Oh Count Dracula....swoon....

2010-10-29T10:39:00.001-04:00

As a nod to the season, I find myself reading Bram Stoker's Dracula. I admit that as a child of the not so distant past, the greatest challenge is not putting visions of assorted movie versions in my brain as I read through passages. The reading is occasionally laborious, but quite entertaining with Stoker's use of language being far favored over Stephen King's. Should you find yourself wanting a good scare that doesn't make you blush (too much) consider this classic....oft overlooked for more highbrow classic reading, but worthy of the moniker nonetheless.

Changing Necessities

2010-10-28T12:50:00.000-04:00

I spent all of this summer without a 21st century means of transportation. Okay - legs have always been around making them 21st and creation means.....and the bicycle...well that's pretty old..... What I mean to say is we became a one motorized vehicle household for a time. It was an interesting exercise in frugality, necessity, and patience. It taught me more than I envisioned learning simply from eliminating a gas-using mobile thing. It made me appreciate and depreciate a lot in life. And it, again, made me realize how silly we humans are (and how content my mother must have been).

A recent discussion with someone who has been in and out of my life since about kindergarten brought home the above point when we casually bantered about the high cost of Christian education and the necessity that is a mother working out of the home. Being an accountant by training, I hesitate to ruminate aloud too much on something that I haven't crunched numbers on, but strictly by observation I have noted a great many things which my generation (and those coming up as well) define as 'necessity'. A lot has changed in just the time I have moved from the days of Mrs. Woltjer in kindergarten to having my own children.

Take for example:

- vacations......I grew up defining trips to Grandma's as "vacation". Twice we journeyed to Florida courtesy of my dad's employer. Never did taking a summer/Spring Break/Columbus Day Break vacation become a necessity. Or a right. Or a deprivation.

- clothes......I did not grow up a nudist, but I did learn to tolerate garage sale "finds", tent sale discounts, and the joy that was Roger's basement. Earl Robson's anyone? And you know, the most popular girl in my class from K - 9th? Hand-me-downs. That's right. Abercrombie (though not yet popular) did not solidify anything in terms of pecking order.

- vehicles.....and back to my original observation. We added a second car to our home when I was in late junior high. Before that it was one vehicle (meaning one gas bill, one insurance bill, one maintenance expense). A good many families of the 1970s were living the same way. We survived. We took dad to work on the days mom needed the car. We walked. We rode our bikes. (Funny - we weren't overweight either....)

All this to say, our definition of "need" adjusts with each passing year. And learning to adjust those needs is tough. Nearly impossible in many cases. Even our family is a case in point as a new-to-us mini van (nicknamed McGyver....fodder for another post) entered our life a couple months ago. Yet I learned to appreciate the convenience of having this vehicle in my garage. I also learned to love its new-to-us status....the status that enables me to still be home with my children as time flies by. It's not a decision made easily or made without occasional reservations. But today, on a dark and rainy day in Michigan, it's a decision that has me particularly thankful.

Hey You! Yes You.....It most certainly is your duty....

2010-10-02T14:52:00.000-04:00

This will not be succinct. It will not flow like poetry or read like a future novel. Nor will it be something everyone wants to hear. But here it is.

I'm frustrated.

I'm frustrated mostly by Christians who find it easier to care for people in Haiti than to care for their neighbors. I'm frustrated by Christians who can write checks to fund a church's building, but treat the members in that building as diseased because they needed help. I'm frustrated by Christians who act like proper stewards because they espouse the teachings of Dave Ramsey (as opposed to - oh - perhaps - Christ?!?).

Today I received an email from someone screaming and crying in words over the pain and feelings of worthlessness felt over being terminated at a job. While I hope that I do my best to "weep with those who weep", this pain of job loss, of economic misery....too many still just don't get it.

They don't get that the family next door - the one who held a job and worked hard and didn't spend in a silly manner - they are deciding today whether to buy milk or bread. While you decide whether to go with the IPod Touch or the Droid phone....while you decide if it's a Toyota or Honda for your new car....do people really not get that middle class people you know. People who have worked as hard as you, as long as you...they can't buy new shoes for their child this year. Their daughter wants to play the flute in band but they can't afford a rental payment.

Truly. If you don't know people like this then you are choosing not know them. You don't want to be reminded of your consumption. Of the vacation you took while another family applied for government assistance.

I'm sickened. What exactly, Christian, do you believe the Lord requires of you?

The dogs have been given a reprieve....

2010-09-07T15:03:00.000-04:00

I do believe a new "The dog ate my homework" has emerged, replacing paper eating dachshunds with a more sinister (and harder to prove culprit). Enter:

I didn't really say it. My account was hacked.

Yes, welcome 21st century excuse. Only the naive will believe this more than a couple times, so use the excuse well. After the second or third usage blaming demonic possession may be the most logical progression.

52 in 52: Kiddie Lit

2010-09-03T13:10:00.001-04:00

Some of my favorite thoughts come courtesy of books with children as their target market. Children..or perhaps pre-teens, sometimes teens...certainly not adults. Some of these thoughts are perhaps lost on the target marke, and so I think adults would do well to read some of this literature from time-to-time. Consider these gems the next time you are tempted to read about some gal with a reptile-shaped tattoo or you stumble into yet another book wherein you have figured out the ending by the conclusion of chapter two.

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium Seldom does a recently published book, tied to a relatively recent movie do such wonderful things to a reader's brain. The commentary on life is lilting, the encouragement called for, and though not shared with any religious direction, telling a child that "Your life is an occasion...rise to it!" is not a bad thing. In fact, one of my favorite quotes - it's long - comes from the movie. Here it comes....

"When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words."

I am thoroughly enamoured with this movie and the book is an equally fun (quick) read.

Roald Dahl is a bit of an acquired taste. I remember sitting through James & The Giant Peach while still in grade school, finding the word pictures about as juicy and alive as I envisioned a giant peach could be. I still recall being instructed to draw pictures as the teacher read and feeling as though this was a foretaste of heaven. That's just how much I enjoyed the book and the imagination and the illustrative potential. I think readers envision this author surely as some sort of artistic hippie type. Yet to read what he says and how he says it (and to take a cursory glance at any bio of his life) is to see a former WWII fighter pilot...of a man who wrote his auto-biography for children and titled it simply, Boy, of a father whose BFG was dedicated to a daughter who died of measles at the age of seven. These are books for children with, again, something more to say.

This week, I ventured into Charlie And The Great Glass Elevator, which picks up with Charlie of chocolate factory fame as he takes off in the elevator. The fun poetry is worth the read, the idea of cramming so much history into a child's book oddly entertaining, the premise as fanciful as its predecessor.

52 in 52 marches on with two children's books thrown into the mix. Come September 13th I may even celebrate Roald Dahl Day with a big ol' Wonka chocolate bar. For life is an occasion and I continue to do my best to rise to it.

Attaching Your Name To Something

2010-08-31T10:25:00.000-04:00

When I was in my pre-teens my mom started following various boycotts endorsed by evangelical preachers of the day. At various times I believe we were avoiding Procter & Gamble (that's hard to do by the way), Meijer, Disney, & McDonald's. That list isn't exhaustive but it is fairly representational. I don't know what some of the companies were doing "wrong" just that I suddenly didn't have my favorite brand of something and Mickey Mouse suddenly grew horns and carried a pitch fork. I also knew that I felt completely persecuted. Because, really, life was all about me at that point.

What I failed to completely understand at the time was the fact that as a Christian in this world the majority of culture will always be opposed to me and my fellow believers. This world is "no friend to grace" and therefore a company that makes soap will sponsor adultery on television and an animation studio will promote (by their silence) a lifestyle contrary to the Word of God. And because so much of the world is opposed to Christianity, we must pick and choose our boycotts - the literal ones and figurative ones - for the reality is we don't have time to make our own soap and sometimes we run through drive-thrus because we're hungry and that's how life goes. And this is what my mom was doing by choosing select companies to boycott...in her own way she was standing up for the name "Christian". I just knew that I missed my favorite shampoo.

It does make me realize as an adult living in a sea of perpetual internet transparancy, how very important it is that we are cautious in terms of what we put our name upon. When the Lever brands company put an ad on a television show that was less than moral, people took note. Did all of Lever necessarily support what happened in that show? No. But their name was on it. That's all that mattered. Someone somewhere had taken note of the name attached to the television program and their name was tainted in the minds and hearts of certain believers.

When I studied accounting we learned a great deal about the 'appearance of impropriety'. Very simply put it meant that while we may be honest in all of our financial dealings, the method of how we go about doing what it is we do is often as important as the result. If I am counting a drawer of someone's cash I will do so in the presence of another person. If am reconciling bank accounts I will have an auditor come in on a regular basis...just to avoid the 'appearance of impropriety'.

And as internet Christians we should consider the 'appearance of impropriety'. What is written in your name, under your name, displayed via your name....it matters. It doesn't matter who you claim wrote it - it doesn't matter if someone else posted it....if it's under your name, in your name, it is yours to deal with. As a Christian first and foremost this should be a concern as we will be know by our fruit (Luke 6:44). Our product, what springs from us directly and from our names, will be used by others as a form of judgment. Even Aesop in his wisdom warned us that we will be known by the company we keep. But, you know, as an adult who has been an employee and an employer it matters in practical terms. Your employer does care if you seem to find vandalism funny - endorse bigotry - find it funny to degrade women. Teenagers should realize that the babysitting calls will cease if you leave sexually charged material on your Facebook account. Confessing members of a church should not feign anger because they are called to task because of a statement they post contrary to the known, professed beliefs of their member church. The ramifications are endless.

We may not like this - it may take work - but what your name is attached to, whether it be as a major, multi-national company, as an employee, or simply as someone who has chosen to place their name on an internet website (say, of the Facebook variety)...it matters. And it is our personal responsibility to do our best that we never give the 'appearance of impropriety'. If we can't control this - if it gets away from us - avoiding the source is really the wise and prudent way of preserving our name.

Beef Stew Confession

2010-08-17T08:23:00.000-04:00

No, really, it is about beef stew.

The heat finally broke - seemingly in droplets of humidity all over the people of the state of Michigan - and in its wake we were left with some phenomenal weather. Cool enough to make me want to cook. Meaning it was really really awful before because I rarely get to the point where cooking is a chore....for the past couple of weeks it has been.

Anyway - found some stew meat in the freezer during a routine look-see and began my stew process before ensuring all ingredients were present. Like taking a shower before you make sure there's a towel in the bathroom. I was short broth...of any kind. What I did have was a single, lonely can of Campbell's Chicken Gumbo Soup. Random, sure, but broth with some kick and, truly, at this point it was broth or water. (For a future date - explanation for why I keep this soup in the pantry.)

The result was my best beef stew to date. Gotta love that processed, sodium-laden soup on occasion!

ConfessionalBeefStew

1.5-2 lb cubed stew meat dredged in
3/4 c white flour
2 T kosher salt
1 T pepper
1 t cumin
1/2 t celery salt

quick heat the above in about 4 capfuls of cooking oil in a nice deep pot...when things thicken up and the floury meat looks a bit less white add....

1 c diced yellow onion
4 cleaned, chopped carrots
4 cleaned, peeled, chopped white potatoes
2 c corn (I used fresh from the cob...frozen otherwise)
1 can Campbell's Chicken Gumbo Soup

As this cooks I added about 3 c water as needed

When a woman is in charge....

2010-08-14T12:10:00.000-04:00

(Never fear.....no feminist rants are forthcoming....)

When a woman is in charge:

athletic practice never occurs right in the middle of traditional supper hour
anyting that has to be sewn on a child's shirt or kerchief or other such nonsense would not be - sewn - it would be iron on (duh)
milk would be located at the front of the grocery store - oh we know why it's not...but we still would put it at the front...with the diapers and formula and cough syrup
doctor's offices would come with lysol wipes and spray and would never double book appointments
ditto for hair salons
golf would only be a sport and count as exercise if walking is involved
if there is money for a new cell phone, cable TV, or new vehicles that would naturally mean that there is always money for braces and clothes and shoes and new couches

52 in 52: Wherein the procrastinating blogger attempts to catch up

2010-07-21T08:21:00.000-04:00

Sometime around the beginning of the year I set up the goal to read "52 in 52"...52 books in 52 weeks. It was no fair reading "Goodnight Moon" or the newspaper....these had to be books with some form of substance. A lofty goal but it sure seemed attainable when it was frigid and cold and the Michigan winter blahs had set in with full post-holiday force. I don't want to know what week I'm in...I could easily google it along with any other tidbit of info I'd like to learn. But, really, living in denial works for me.

That said, some of this could be more of an issue of not posting all I read to the blog....to that end, a few updates for the reading inclined with ONE WORD reviews. Yup. One word. Okay...maybe two. But that's it. Two tops.

Ministries of Mercy: The Call of the Jericho Road by Tim Keller........MUST
Self Incrimination by Randy Singer...yuck
A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith.....Lovely (classic)
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon....middling
The Broker by John Grisham...ExPeCtEd
Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout....characters!
Respectable Sins: Confronting the Sins We Tolerate by Jerry Bridges.....basic (okay)

I am currently reading Under The Dome by Stephen King....I will lobby to have it count as at least three books since my back goes out slightly each time I lift it. King makes me simultaneously cringe over the language and gore he consistently uses and yet I'm constantly amazed at the allegory he weaves. When I read The Cell I almost said an "amen" at the end. The Stand is a consistently interesting read with its end of times/good vs evil threads. And yet the source means with the allegory must come lanuage that makes me wonder if intelligent - even moderately intelligent - folks really enjoy liberally sparsing all they say with vulgarity. Do intelligent people just naturally say things like "I need some effing milk when you go out"? I guess I run in a tame crowd. Anyway....King is my current read until book group comes around and someone leads me in a different direction.

They say it's my birthday...

2010-07-18T21:31:00.001-04:00

It hardly seems possible another year has come and gone. Sometimes years fly by rapidly. Why those years of having babies...especially that period of less than two years' span when two babies arrived. Wow! Years flew. I'm fairly certain there were birthdays celebrated in that mix but I'm as certain, fully without reservation, that these days were blurs of diapers and bottles and burps and "OH! Look...I think he's smiling!" To be certain those were wondrous years and wonderful birthdays, even if they aren't the stuff of legend.

Other birthdays creep upon a body far more slowly. I distinctly remember heading from 14 to 15 and feeling as I'd never arrive at point B. Point B meant driver's ed and because of my summer birthday (surely my parents could have planned better) every other friend had already taken driver's ed....EVERY friend (no exaggeration to be sure...not in my adolescent brain anyway). The year of mom's death was a birthday I thought would never arrive only because I so dreaded the notion of celebrating my birth without the human reason for the day. That was not a pretty birthday. This I recall.

This year's birthday comes after a year of particularly difficult movements in life. A year in which life had to be singularly focused on a few people much to the chagrin of others. It was about muddling through and mistakes made and not (truly) forgiven by others. It was a messy, messy year. A "year of living dangerously" but with none of the excitement and thrill that can often accompany dangerous living.

The birthday girl in this photo - if I enjoyed photos of myself - would show a few more grey hairs than the girl of previous years. She would show more creases between her eyes - that area in a woman's forehead that often call for botox rendering her expressionless. If there was a party, the guest list would have shrunk greatly from previous years - not due to economics, but due to severe pruning. The photo would show three children who have experienced more this year than I would have desired....a husband who has been bruised and battered in many respects....and just a few select friends who have understood and accepted and exercised patience and the true definition of "doing justice...loving mercy...."

Older me would tell younger me that:

girlfriends who are true will never bring up your past mistakes unless those mistakes are male or life-threatening if repeated
males who are wise will never love you only when you're pretty
Christianity filled with rules is generally man-made
Christianity filled with grace that covers acknowledged sin is not man-made
in every organization people who have not earned authority will pretend to have it
it is up to you to live with these people or move on....having them removed will rarely turn out well
in an age of reckless information sharing, anything you put 'out there' will surely come back to haunt you
people with little money will make you a meal when you're hungry and spend their last dollar buying you a loaf of bread
individuals who are crazy about posting pictures of themselves on the internet are generally crazy about....themselves

And When You've Too Much To Say....

2010-07-06T14:44:00.001-04:00

it is often better to say nothing at all.

When someone who types crazy fast and has a mind that often works even more crazily fast becomes unexplicably silent....one begins to wonder is the apocalypse is upon us. Or could such a typist have crampy fingers? Heaven forbid it's the mind that's cramping. Suffice it to say, not typing and not sharing each and every thought that crosses my mind is an exercise in holding my tongue....figuratively. Literally holding one's tongue is not good manners.

I have spent a good portion of the lazy days of summer directing a little concerto of not-quite-tween girls on the field of dreams. Only ours is in Kentwood. And Kevin Costner has yet to swing by. And the players are young, impressionable (and really good!) females. I have spent another portion of my summer days becoming weary in doing good. That's right. I wore myself out of the ol' spirit of volunteerism (apart from hanging with the aforementioned girls). I am still ruminating on whether such a time is natural - because all things run their course. Whether such a time is dreadfully wrong on my behalf. Or even whether such weariness can truly be blamed in (almost) it's entirety on downer people who truly must spend their summer days aching for business to stick noses in.

While I have found myself with too much to say, it seems a certain social community overflows with such people who are not holding their tongues. I have learned so much from online community members....
of weddings, of bankruptcies, of idiots masquerading as intelligent folk, of those who work hard, of those who work hard at not working, of the poor souls who must have been highly insecure as children and teens because now they toot an entire sonata when they toot their own horns, of money to burn, of politics worn on sleeves, of faith quoted and not lived (and vice versa). What a society my children find themselves growing in. One in which communicating and being social has nothing to do with looking someone in the eye and speaking. Where texting while in public is normal and excused. A life where "businesssmen" post things online which - in this old lady's opinion - should make their customers (current & future) second guess the maturity of these men of business.

And I ponder...when did life become so open and transparent that grieving with those who grieve and rejoicing with those who rejoice has been reduced to something posted online? When did we exchange "gossip" for "information sharing" and make the stigma of being a Gossip go away? And when did men become so good at gossip and how can we make it stop?

And so I've had too much to say. And because I'm a generation (okay or two or three) removed from the group of people who emote and 'share' and just plain do stupid things online for all to read (and search for) I have elected to by silent for a time. And ruminate. And think. And become unweary. And pray that my children will be of a select group of future adults who still can look someone in the eye and converse. And will form relationships in the tangible world.

BFF

2010-05-09T21:44:00.000-04:00

It is Mother's Day. I would choose to entirely ignore the day were it not for the blessings of my own personal experience with motherhood. Three blessings, to be exact. Because they are (relatively) young I choose to be happy. I acknowledge happiness as a choice and on this day I have to make a conscious effort to choose it. It is a choice I make for others, for I would be fine with a more somber observance.

In one week out of the year I commemorate the loss of my mother and the day that celebrates motherhood. Dayspring cards and assorted self-help types would say "God doesn't give you more than you can handle". I don't believe that to be true. I believe we aren't given more - or don't have more taken from us - than He can handle. And considering the pain and absence from the Father our Christ endured.....well, we don't get anymore than He can handle. And He can handle it all.

Yet I also believe that though we are to be "Joyful always...." there's a reason that in the same phrasing we are admonitioned to "...pray continually". You see, to be always filled with joy, one really must be constantly praying. I pray a lot more during the first week of May.

And joy is not happiness. I can have joy and still feel sadness. This is also something I have come to associate with this first week of May. I am very prepared for my emotions. I don't like them. I may eat too much or not enough. I will get angry and then cry. I will have headaches and gut aches. I may, in the midst of all of this, have a sense of joy. But I'm still sad.

She was.....

not like other peoples moms
she had a laugh we openly mocked
wise without a college degree
blatant in her Christianity
aware of my pains and faults and sorrows....and loved me fully & completely anyway
a good cook
not a good baker
the fastest typist I've ever known
not a fan of her hair
a fan of Christian radio (though not the "bee bop stations"), elevator music, me on the organ
able to fit on a tiny love seat with me and fall asleep
a supportive wife, a constant mother, a grandmother anyone would want for their children
chunky until cancer stole the fat
not a good singer but joined the chuch choir anyway
loved by all, yet invited to dine with very few
my BFF

R H U B A R B....sauce, strawberry sauce.....just plain cool

2010-05-08T10:31:00.000-04:00

Certain constants are important in life and at this time of year, that constant for me becomes my garden. Rich soil, compost thriving, and certain plants which just don't know how to die....plants that avoid death are a constant all gardeners should invest in...partly because some garden "staples" inevitably are eaten or destroyed in some way or another.

So consider the humble (and oh-so-strong) R H U B A R B. Rhubarb is just cool.

It was a veggie. Until the US government decided it was a fruit.
The leaves are poisonous!
It's filled with Vitamin K.
It could be your favorite diet aid...eat too much & you'll want to know where the bathroom is.

Basic Rhubarb Sauce (it's not pretty, but it's good)
4 c rhubarb
3/4 c white sugar
1/4 c water

Combine all into a nice pot and cook...cook until the rhubarb falls apart. You will be left with a basic sauce, both tangy and sweet. Eat warm. Eat cold. Freeze it for later.

Mom's Strawberry Rhubarb (this one's pretty & sweet & a 70s classic)
5 c rhubarb
3 c white sugar
1/2 c water
1 small package Jell-O strawberry jello

Combine rhubarb, sugar, water...cook until rhubarb is cooked down. Remove from heat and stir in jell-o. Use warm over ice cream, store in the fridge and serve cold, freeze for later.

Of Faith & Food....Food, Inc.

2010-04-20T10:48:00.001-04:00

Our bodies are temples (I Corinthians 6:19 -20).
"Worries go down better with soup." (Jewish proverb)
Creation is ours for the subduing (Genesis 1:28).
"God does not forbid you to drink, as do the Turks; he permits you to drink wine and beer: he does not make a law of it. But do not make a pig of yourself; remain a human being." (Martin Luther)

Food and I have always had a love-hate relationship. I grew up in a home where Eastern European heartiness met with Dutch sensibilities and I believe my gut has never quite recovered. I long for fresh food - baked fresh daily, picked fresh daily, prepared fresh daily. The Dutch girl in me, however, cannot fight the urge to keep leftovers. And the idea of not consuming the leftovers is akin to heresy. I really should keep a straight jacket hanging next to my apron in the kitchen.

I find this even more prevalent in the area I call home, where the frugal still strive to pinch a penny until it bleeds and generally find mock-worthy the idea of wrapping raw fish, surrounded by rice, in a lovely piece of seaweed (that's sushi my friends). We still fill food pantries with processed foods and corn syrup while most men quietly (or even not so quietly) berate their wives for gaining weight and not looking like they did in high school. It is an odd little corner of the world in which I find myself - a transplant of a certain kind - one who knows a good perogie is not frozen and is not restricted to cheese or potato. One from a culture where birthing a healthy baby resulted in some lasting girth on baby's mom and we all rejoiced in good health as we passed the meat and potatoes.

Food and faith are forever intertwined. We celebrate the very death of our risen Savior with - of all things - a meal. Oh, our version is small to be sure, but it is still a "supper". We espouse the teachings of theologians and philosophers whose very size (think Martin Luther) bespoke an affection for good beer and good bread, among other things. And what better way to fellowship with one another, than around one's dinner table whether it be ornate or antique - a card table or TV trays - a meal shared conveys so very much about its partakers and, if lingered over and savored properly, cannot help but result in conversation that feeds the soul as much as the food feeds the body. And yet those of faith often have a more restrictive relationship with food than they have with their barber. It's an odd, odd mix - that of faith and food.

My heritage is one of tolerating conditions beyond one's control. Of a great grandmother who was a hod brick carrier in Austria-Hungary, of a grandmother who worked long hours in Chicago factories but sent out her daughter (my mother) for fresh lunchmeat and bread when company stopped in. Of meals spent with balance and butter....of sausage and poppy seed cake. This is a culture which espoused the fresh - the available - the unprocessed....and they didn't even know it at the time. This is the culture we would do well to emmulate in food-related matters. Of eating what is available when it should be available for, though I wish it weren't so, watermelon doesn't grow well in Michigan in December and cabbage is best grown when temperatures are cold. Animals were created to live and graze in fields and fish were meant to swim wild (imagine for a moment explaining a "farm raised" fish to great-grandparents).

Faith has always meant a trust that food will be available. That if one can eat a good meal, other things will fall into place. (And perhaps this is why Christians often feel the drive - truly a 'need' - to feed those who won't otherwise be able to find a meal.) That all things edible were given to God's people as a source of protein, fat, vitamins....and when done in moderation will feed the body as well as the soul. Our temples were constructed to run on fuel - our fuel is supplied by the very Builder of our temple. When filled with fuel prepared as close to its original source as possible, these temples will endure - no thrive. The temples in this case are created for work....not for beauty (lest we become vain) and not first for the pleasure of our significant other (unless that's Significant Other in caps and referring to our Creator)...our Creator doesn't require high school bodies on mothers, or gut-free bellies on men fulfilling their purpose. Our Creator supplies food and common sense. He never supplies vanity.

Faith & food....Food & faith....often difficult company. It has been said that if your great-grandparent wouldn't recognize a particular food item, don't eat it. This, I believe, is advice that a healthy life can be built upon.

“One of the troubles about vanity is that it grows with what it feeds on. The more you are talked about, the more you will wish to be talked about.”
........................................................................

Though a bit obviously political in certain areas, PBS is beginning a series based upon the movie Food, Inc. this Wednesday. Check your local stations for times and tune-in. You may never eat a twinkie or Tyson chicken nugget again. And that, my friend, your great-grandma would approve of.