tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32296712246053466182024-02-07T20:25:49.993-08:00Grace and PeaceValhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-35443798963289149322022-03-18T18:40:00.002-07:002022-03-18T18:40:40.927-07:00Your Finest HourThis year has been rough. The past two years, actually. I don't have to tell you, you already know that. Pandemic, right? Work from home if you're lucky, or unemployed. Kids home all day, spouse too. Worries about having enough, dealing with sickness when sickness is
<i>so<i> </i>scary</i> .
And mamas, we worry anyway, don't we? All the time. All those late nights holding babies, then working the next day. Going all day after a sleepless night, preparing dinner or ordering pizza, washing those uniforms for the next day when all we want is sleep. Finding time to actually talk to our spouse. Putting all we have into all we do. Calling mom and dad to see how they are, finding time for a drink with the hubs before bed.
And then, after all of that, you wake up at 2 am to hear crying. One of your littles is sick. This requires you, mama. So you hold and clean and comfort and rock and reassure.
And know the whole time that you will be exhausted the next day, wondering while you're rocking, will I have to call off ? Can I still work?" It's so much, isn't it?
What if I told you this is your finest hour? That moment you change a life? The exact moment in time you show another human being just exactly what love in action looks like? That moment that a person realizes, "Hey! I'm worth something! I am worthy of love!"
Because guess what? That's what we do . We spend our lives showing others just how worthy they are of love, and attention, amd time.
This is it mamas. This? Is your finest hour.
Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-48188839405375850182022-02-15T04:42:00.006-08:002022-02-15T04:43:26.643-08:00Deep LoveToday is Valentine's Day. All about love. Today I did what everyone hopes to do on this holiday. Spent the day with the love of my life, had an intimate meal for two, held hands and told each other of our love.
Soinds great, yes? Our day was spent driving to a doctor's appointment after brain surgery for a tumor. The surgery went well, but the healing part-not so much. Too much after-surgery swelling caused problems, and an extensive acute physical rehabilitation stay. Today's doctor visit felt like skipping school, like a day out with dad instead of mom, like skipping Sunday school to play on the church playground. A bit naughty, a bit fun. Like a blind date with a person you completely hit it off with, while your friend and her boyfriend are bored to tears with each other.
And then we went to lunch. Not a fancy restaurant, not even inside a restaurant. Fast food in the car, in a parking lot.
If you haven't been in love, you won't understand, but...it might have been the best date we've had in years. Not the romantic, perfect, ethereal version of love you see in literature, but the real, real version of love. The version where you stick together no matter what, through thick and thin, through sickness and health-just like the vows.
There's a sweetness that happens after some rough times together that the first blush of young love can't ever match. It's a mellow, familiar, deep, precious, essential-to-your-survival, type of love. The type of love that happens when you've been tested and survived.
The type of love that happens when you would spare your SO any pain you could by taking it on yourself, but they won't let you.
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I wouldn't trade our deep mellow love for anything in the world.
Happy Valentine's Day honey. And Happy Every Day . I love you.
Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-22117010525795499422021-08-08T18:44:00.005-07:002021-08-08T18:46:30.497-07:00DoggoI've been thinking a lot lately about dogs. Not unusual, considering we have dogs at our house. But I mean in a more ethereal sort of way.
We've lost two dogs in the past 10 years. We were heartbroken over both of them.
They made our lives better, in away that is almost indescribable. Everyone talks about the unconditional love that a dog offers, or the wiggle-butt greetings when you come home. They talk about the "please" face when they want something , or the zoomies that always make you literally laugh out loud.
But what is it, exactly, about dogs, that make us carry them outside when they can't do it for themselves any longer, or make them little wheelchairs, or spend our savings at the vet to save them when they've become injured? What makes us sob like we've lost our dearest friend when we watch them pass? <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aN-ap9nTU0Ejd4AUA063Nv9pLfdys8WL7YaRfaJtMojOqqy7mmYTtO4GU4Io7B-3zNqeGAjDd5qUXkpO4Pz-0mlZigJmRSjXVVZFH15SQYxiu4FSLuCMsRfvMyTjJT-4MU0UCBu6YMkr/s600/IMG_1704.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aN-ap9nTU0Ejd4AUA063Nv9pLfdys8WL7YaRfaJtMojOqqy7mmYTtO4GU4Io7B-3zNqeGAjDd5qUXkpO4Pz-0mlZigJmRSjXVVZFH15SQYxiu4FSLuCMsRfvMyTjJT-4MU0UCBu6YMkr/s320/IMG_1704.JPG"/></a></div>
Why do dogs make us feel so much better about ourselves? I feel like, maybe, it's because in part, they accept us unconditionally. It has been said that a dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than it loves itself. Like Jesus, they would die for us without a second thought to themselves. Unlike Him, they can't save our souls, but they can perhaps point it in the right direction. Maybe a dog is just what we need to make us realize what terrible, fragile, awful beings we are and can be. Maybe perhaps they can show us what unconditional love can do for a person. And sadly, what the inevitable loss of that type of love here on earth can do to our beings, what a horrible void it's absence leaves.
Be kind to each other , as kind as our dogs would be.
Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-13046859634750891852021-01-10T18:44:00.000-08:002021-01-10T18:44:15.496-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div>Sunday.</div><div>I cleaned and straightened the office, the office closet, purged and shredded the file drawers, returned our closet to a semi-functional state. Shredded a bag of old bills, vacuumed the hallway twice. Cleaned off my desk, added to the donation bag of old clothes. Made a lasagna, planned a weeks worth of meals. Updated my planner, made note of what else I need to do this week. Finished lesson plans for the daycare, laminated and bound a book for story time. Mopped the kitchen and entry way. </div><div>And so many other things. </div><div>Didn’t call my mom or siblings (are they okay, healthy?) . Didn’t bathe the dogs, didn’t balance the checkbook. Still didn’t finish my classes for daycare. The basement is still a hoarders paradise, I still haven’t had paint matched for the kitchen cabinet touch-ups. </div><div>I did get a Christmas gift finished and wrapped, did pick up paint chips for our (still not painted after 13 years ) bedroom. </div><div>I managed to text both my awesome children whom I don’t see nearly often enough. No one else though. </div><div>Managed to find a few minutes for my devotional, prayed continuously all day long. </div><div>Nothing I do is ever enough. Not ever. I keep trying. Keep praying for everyone I know. Me especially, because I know that I need it so so much. But also for everyone in my life.</div><div>We all need those prayers, we all covet them. </div><div>Tomorrow is Monday, and I start the rat race all over again. I’m going to get through somehow, by the grace of God, so I can do it again next weekend. </div><div>I have to.</div>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-37705539647687304202020-09-30T19:00:00.003-07:002020-09-30T19:00:40.397-07:00Um, HOW Long?!<p> So, um it’s been a while! No excuses here! Our lovey puppers Buddy Lee crossed the rainbow bridge 😢</p><p>It was extremely hard on us all. Our oldest child left the nest , bought his own house, moved his girlfriend in, and lost a baby. 😢</p><p>Our daughter found a job she’s great at, found a man who understands her, and moved into their first apartment. </p><p>Meanwhile, the hubs and I just keep keeping on. We celebrated 35 years of marriage this year. Seems like a lot to say it, but living it - Just life, you know? I wouldn’t be anywhere else, he’s home for me. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Mcg1kLmvhDxiQcU5IxqFp76v246wTC_BxV_191vd5ixCY4mn77U1-Z4cMlJrdEF-g1_4X8DcfAw-S3TOmvE_VCrD8Xj4619cf4bmR44GehVb29SSfLi-744FmmXLOQfihbJzLe4fMcGm/s1600/IMG_2302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Mcg1kLmvhDxiQcU5IxqFp76v246wTC_BxV_191vd5ixCY4mn77U1-Z4cMlJrdEF-g1_4X8DcfAw-S3TOmvE_VCrD8Xj4619cf4bmR44GehVb29SSfLi-744FmmXLOQfihbJzLe4fMcGm/s320/IMG_2302.JPG" /></a></div>I want to start writing again, but does anyone even read blogs anymore? If you’re reading this , let me know! Maybe I’ll write anyway. <p></p>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-4665653278561426882018-11-23T20:11:00.001-08:002018-11-23T20:16:57.904-08:00The HolidaysWell, the holidays are upon us. I (just barely) managed to survive Thanksgiving with family and friends around me, and now I have to prepare for Christmas.<br />
Rewind: I remember baking cookies and decorating the tree with my mom when I was little. Sometimes my siblings were there, but mostly it was the two of us, possibly because I was so much younger than my siblings, possibly because my mother and I are both crazy Christmas nuts. Either way, that love continued into my adult-hood.<br />
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When my children were born, I tried to pass that love onto them. We baked and decorated cookies together, decorated the tree together, went to see Santa, talked about baby Jesus, sang songs, made gifts-everything we could squeeze in, we did. I expected that love to continue when they became adults, and possibly on to grandchildren.<br />
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But somewhere along the line, I started to become stressed out over all the preparations, all the expectations, all the expense, all the <i>people, </i>all the gatherings, all the parties, just...<i>all.</i> It stopped being about peace somewhere, and started being about what other people expected I should want to do.<br />
Well, I'm taking my holidays back, starting now. I've been thinking about it, and here are my new rules, based on what I believe made me so happy about the holidays when I was a child:<br />
1. No rules! Whatever my husband and I decide, is what we will do.<br />
2. Peace is the order of the season.<br />
3. I have always believed that Christmas is about Jesus. I celebrate Christmas as a season to celebrate a wonderful gift that was given to all mankind, undeserved by any of us. I will hold that in my heart always, and let it guide me as I used to.In that spirit I present number 4:<br />
4. Since Christmas is about a gift, I will do my part to try and focus on the thing that has always made me the happiest: giving whatever I think will make someone happy, to whoever I feel needs that from me.<br />
5. I love and desire to have my family around me at this season, but I realize that not all of them will be able to be there when I have "the official meal". Here's the thing, and I will do my best to explain this: My husband and I celebrate our anniversary all year long. We don't always go out to a big dinner, or a special event to celebrate that exact day. We have always felt that it is more important to treat each other in a way that is special every single day. And <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT </u> is the way I feel about Christmas. If you are a complete shrew every single day of the year, why in the world would anyone want to spend a holiday with you? But if you treat the people around you as if they matter, as if their opinions matter, as if their entire life's joy is your mission in life? Well, then, they will feel as if you are the gift, and any <i>thing</i> you give them will be extra, the cherry on top.<br />
I want, above all else, for those that I love to feel about Christmas the way that I used to feel, the way that a children's Christmas concert, or the Charlie Brown Christmas special, or baking cookies with my mom, or shopping for my family, has always made me feel: Like I had the privilege of looking directly into the manger and seeing the eyes of my Savior Himself , and knowing that LOVE is the best gift of all, and that it was meant just for me. Because <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> is what I'm really giving when I give a gift, or cook a meal, or give a hug. And if the people I love most in this world cannot be here in my home with me on the day the<u><i> world </i></u>celebrates our Saviors birth, well, I'll miss them, but that's okay.<br />
Because I celebrate His birth every day of my life,and the love of my family every day of my life, and I will be thrilled to celebrate with them any time they can spend a few minutes with me.<br />
<ul style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 18px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;">"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." ~ <span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/search/?t=niv&q=1pe+4:8" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2877cb; outline: 0px !important; text-decoration-line: none;">1 Peter 4:8</a></span></li>
</ul>
Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-87404628944633942472018-08-07T10:29:00.003-07:002018-08-07T10:32:46.938-07:00The Beauty of a DreamI’m a crafty person. I enjoy making things with my own hands, and dreaming up those things beforehand. For the same reason, nothing makes me happier than cooking for people who appreciate the results. It’s one of the ways I show those around me that I love them.<br />
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This also manifests itself in my home. I love redoing rooms , reorganizing inside cabinets, adding little vignettes and pictures, and just general nest-fluffing. I strive to make my home work better on a daily basis. The worst part of this type of creativity is that I can’t redo the things I want to redo , all by myself. I don’t have the knowledge, the brute strength, or the height, that is often required to do things like put up drywall or paint the ceiling. <br />
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In this regard, I’m fortunate to have a wonderful husband who is taller, stronger, and has a head full of knowledge about remodeling. He’s taught me a lot of lessons about handyman type things, and done some absolutely stunning work on our 95 year old house.<br />
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The most recent lesson is that it might be time to say goodbye to this old house and get something a little more old-age friendly. We haven’t decided whether or not to do this yet, but it’s definitely on both of our minds lately.<br />
If we do decide to do this, I will definitely have a bit of a cry. I never got to see this house become what I wanted it to be. But 12 hour work days and weekend meetings and classes are not conducive to do-it-yourself home remodeling. And so it might be time to say goodbye to this beautiful old craftsman-era girl, and find something with fewer wrinkles, even though this house was my dream home.<br />
I guess the beauty of a dream, is that it can change when necessary.Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-32805194210059338592018-04-10T18:54:00.002-07:002018-04-10T18:54:58.870-07:00Small Business OwnerIt's 4:30 a.m., and I'm staring at the alarm clock, mentally willing the numbers to go backwards. They don't, and at 5:15 I get up and head for the shower, dress, go downstairs, and fix myself some hot tea. Five minutes after I get downstairs my first daycare child arrives and the day starts. Two<br />
adhd's, two quiet whisperers, one flighty flibberdegibbit, and one sweetie pie later, it's time for lunch and then: NAP! My favorite of all times of the day, nap time. I get to sit down, grab my ipad, and...load an online class required to maintain my license. Halfway through the class, a little gets a night terror and starts screaming. Another smaller little wakes up because of the screams and starts crying. Soon everyone is awake and nap is over long before it is supposed to be.<br />
I didn't finish the class even though it's only an hour long class, I didn't read the new insurance information, I didn't read the information our accountant sent me to learn how to deduct employee health insurance. (It's April and I really need to learn how to do this, like 4 months ago.) I haven't made the dogs vet appointments, I haven't called my union for some information I need, the dishes haven't been done, and I don't even want to talk about the state of the upstairs bathroom. (Hint: that's not a rug on the floor ).<br />
So, nap time over, I change diapers (3), put away cots (5), find a binky (1), prepare snacks (6), answer the phone (3 x ), and answer the door (1x ). I navigate requests for television time, instruct a 5 year old to hand over the toddler toys to the toddler, suggest art projects, wish desperately for a maid and a secretary, shoe up and coat on everyone, greet parents, recount each child's day even though it's all on the app they only have to download and read about it, and realize it's suddenly 5:30 p.m.<br />
Decide what's for dinner, decide laundry can wait another day or two, vacuum the rug, pick up toys, check tomorrow's schedule, answer a parent's phone call. Spend some time regretting all I didn't have time or energy for. Spend a tiny bit more time realizing I'm not the only one on the planet who's day is like this.Talk to my wonderful husband on the phone on his way home.<br />
Eat and clean up dinner, cuddle the dog, relax with the hubs and a drink, throw the dogs an ice cube or four.<br />
Bedtime. Deep breath, because in 8 hours, I get to do it all again. Switched up, turned around, a few surprises thrown in the mix.<br />
Life is like this, and I'm still here. Tomorrow I'll try to fit in some devotional and prayer time, worry about my daughter, Be happy for my son, worry about his job, wish I had time and money to travel, pay some bills, be grateful for apps that deposit paychecks without trying to get to the bank during bankers hours,worry about money, cook some more, wish my heart murmur wasn't bothering me, think about my sisters, comment on a friends Facebook post, wonder if spring will ever come, hope tomorrow is as warm as they say it will be, and do all of the above, all over again. <br />
Life sucks sometimes, but busy means I'm alive and there are people who care about that. And above all, it means God believes I still have something to accomplish here. So that's what I hang onto, that knowledge that I've got something important to do yet, and that God himself thinks I'm the one who needs to do it. And that this business is important.<br />
<br />Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-76736528244581020422017-07-01T19:05:00.000-07:002017-07-01T19:05:12.496-07:00About That Brain Tumor...I'm not sure where to start. The thing is, my husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor. , an acoustic neuroma. What that means is that he had a tumor that started in his ear canal. But it got worse. A lot worse, over the course of several years.<br />
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Despite all of the symptoms, every doctor missed it. Despite all of those MRI's, they missed it. Finally, all of the symptoms added up to a doctor ordering a very specific MRI.An MRI with contrast. And that MRI with contrast showed a large tumor on the right side of his brain stem.<br />
I, WE, could have been angry. We could have been scared. We could have been, I don't know...Overwhelmed? We definitely were overwhelmed, but mostly, we were shocked. There were the questions, the conversations, the tears. So. Many. Tears. He was scared,I was scared. The family and friends we told were scared.<br />
Eventually, we saw the doctors. Apparently, the BEST doctors-ANYWHERE. He was referred to doctors who were the doctors who teach other doctors how to deal with the specific type of tumor he had.<br />
AND THEY WERE HOPEFUL!!!!<br />
hopeful<br />
(hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul...*)<br />
How do you deal with hopeful after hearing how hopeless things are?<br />
I'll tell you how: very cautiously, that's how! Because when someone tells you that you might die, or that someone you love might die, things get real. Really, really, real. Suddenly, you're the adult you never wanted to be. You're the adult who deals with the stuff you thought you never would.<br />
And then the day of the surgery is here, and you have to deal with the 547 relatives friends and coworkers who c.a.r.e. about you. Phone calls, texts, in person conversations. The truth is, you have no idea what you're doing or saying.You will never remember what you said or did during those awful days when you had to deal with mortality. You prayed. Prayed more than you ever have, ever. People say they're praying for you and you say that's great, please do. You're living in that place where prayer is the only thing that matters.The ONLY thing that matters. Because suddenly you know that GOD is in charge, and you have no control over anything, <br />
And then you wake up. Because the surgery is over , and the man you love is STILL ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
You get to see and talk to him again!!! And hold his hand, and take walks with him, and have<br />
deep conversations with him. And ask what he wants for dinner, or what he thinks about your outfit. And then you go to the bathroom and cry, because you tried really hard not to do that before the surgery,or in front of him, when he could see you, because he had enough to deal with.<br />
and then you fallonyourkneesandworshipGOD, because HE is faithful!<br />
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And finally, f.i.n.a.l.l.y. -life continues, and you are in awe , on a daily basis, because,<b><i> apparently</i></b>, God cares about you personally. You don't know why. All you know is that you are grateful. So, so, so, very grateful.<br />
And life goes on.<br />
Life. Goes. On.<br />
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*<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Emily Dickinson, 1830 - 1886. </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Hope is the thing with feathers</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.</span>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-27284345008827752682016-07-11T11:29:00.000-07:002016-07-11T11:29:20.154-07:00Just Like Mom's: Chicken and NoodlesThis is the first post in a new series I've decided to do. Most of these posts will be about things I've been taught to cook by my mother, Sharon Bayer. Some will be about things I've been taught to cook by my mother or others, And some will be about things I've learned to cook by myself. First up: Chicken and Noodles. This recipe is one my mother taught me to cook, with a few tweaks by me to meet the tastes of my own family.<br />
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Homemade Chicken and Noodles<br />
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Ingredients:</div>
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One whole chicken, defrosted if frozen, giblets removed</div>
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3 stalks celery, washed and diced</div>
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4 carrots, peeled and diced</div>
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1 whole onion, diced</div>
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1 teaspoon each Simon and Garfunkel (you know, "parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme")</div>
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1 whole bay leaf</div>
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Noodles:</div>
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6 eggs</div>
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6 Tablespoons whole milk</div>
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6 cups all purpose flour</div>
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Salt to taste, and pepper</div>
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To begin, put the whole chicken in a pot of fresh cold water to cover and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, add one whole carrot, one whole celery stalk, and half of the onion. Put Simon and Garfunkel and the bay leaf in either a muslin spice bag or a piece of cheesecloth, tie shut, and simmer for about 4 hours.(I do this because I work from home, but if you don't, do this on a snowy Saturday when you just don't feel like leaving the house.) </div>
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As soon as you have the chicken and spices simmering, make the noodles:</div>
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Beat the eggs lightly in a bowl with a fork, then add in the milk. Salt lightly, then, add in the flour a cup at a time. (These aren't real egg noodles; real egg noodles don't have milk in them, but these are great, sort of a cross between noodles and dumplings.) As soon as the eggs won't take any more flour, dump the whole mess onto a floured countertop. (I use an antique noodle board I found at a sale, or alternatively a pastry cloth. But before I had either of those, I used my plain old clean floured melamine countertop. They're all pretty much the same. Just don't whatever you do, use wax paper. Your noodles will never dry. E.V.E.R.) Anywho, after you dump out the the noodley mess, knead all the flour and such into a dough, but not any longer. What this means is, as soon as it sort of holds together, stop kneading. Then let it rest for about 20 minutes, and roll it out to about 1/4 inch thick. Using a pizza wheel, cut into strips and then crosswise into noodle size slices. These plump when you cook 'em, so make them a little smaller than you think you'd like them to be. After they're cut, leave them to dry while your chicken cooks. After about two hours, flip them over to dry on the other side.<br />
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Back to the chicken: Once your chicken is cooked through, remove it to a plate to cool a bit. Then, using a slotted spoon, remove the spice bag and vegetables and pitch them. You can strain the broth at this point by pouring it through a colander into a very large heat proof bowl. Wipe out the pot, return the broth, and add enough water so it fills the pot about 2/3 of the way, then bring back to a boil. Add the dices carrot, celery, and onion, and reduce to a simmer for about an hour. Remove chicken from bones and shred, then set aside. Once the veggies are cooked, return the pot to a full boil and begin adding the noodles few at a time, stirring after each addition. Once they're all in there, salt the whole thing generously. Cook until the noodles are done, then stir in the chicken and reheat. Serve in big bowls with a fork. The noodles will absorb most of the broth while cooking, but you can serve bread slices with this if you want to soak up whatever broth remains in your bowl after eating.<br />
Note: You can also use boneless skinless chicken breasts and canned chicken broth to make this, but it will NOT taste the same. And do take the time to make the homemade noodles, they are fabulous.<br />
Second note: the "Simon and Garfunkel" reference came about when I was teaching my daughter to make these. She wondered how I remembered which spices go into it, so I taught her the refrain from that song. Now we always sing it when I make these. Memories :)</div>
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Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-56134608193318649172016-07-11T10:59:00.000-07:002016-07-11T10:59:48.249-07:00And On The Seventh Day...And on the seventh day...God cleaned the entire downstairs, vacuumed, washed the dogs, did laundry, got groceries, planned the week's menu, ran errands, cooked two full meals, and threatened to kill a child who put his dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher.<br />
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Credit: http://semidomesticatedmama.com/<br />
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Hmm. Doesn't sound like it came from the book of Genesis, does it? That, however, pretty much accurately describes how I was feeling Sunday. And then my husband reminded me we were supposed to take the boat out with our daughter and her boyfriend. I went, but let me tell you, it was done very grudgingly. And with much grumbling once we got out there. There I was , on a boat on a beautiful stretch of river on a gorgeous day, making lists in my head, and estimating the amount of time it would take me to finish everything by the time I had to start dinner. And them something happened. The wind started to blow up some tiny little breakers and a boat passed us. The resulting waves caused the boat to rock gently back and forth, some spray hit me in the face, and I got a whiff of that river smell. The list drifted away, I closed my eyes, and exhaled for what felt like the first time in a week. After that the boat ride was fun, and I did something I hadn't done in days. <i>Rested.</i><br />
God always knows best, doesn't he? Resting is not just a good idea, it is absolutely necessary to a person's well being and general good health.<br />
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I'm so busy <i>all. the. time. </i> We all are, I know. The reason it bothers some people so much (me included !) , is that we forget to take the time to rest. I rarely just sit. If we're watching television, I've usually got a tablet in my hand and a notebook nearby to write down those lists that are always popping up in my head. But that's all just clutter, brain clutter. The same way that visual clutter distracts your eye, brain clutter distracts your focus. You've heard all this before. But this time, take the time to learn it.<br />
I'm trying to make time to rest my brain as well as my body. Counter-intuitively, I've added some things back in to my day to give me time to rest: a daily devotional, which I find I have missed. A better routine in my work. Knowing what comes next is better for me, as it gives my brain a rest, and better for the children, as well.<br />
I've also been avoiding things that make me feel crazy. I've been mostly avoiding Facebook this week, for instance, because every post I see is about the awful things that have been happening around us lately.<br />
In doing these things, I hope to give myself a chance to clear the mental clutter and actually <i>rest</i> when I get a day off.<br />
I hope you can all clear some of the clutter out of your brain this week, and give yourselves a chance to rest!Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-31369500891858244982016-01-29T18:51:00.001-08:002016-01-29T18:51:44.012-08:00Overheard at the DaycareAs I was cleaning the kitchen one day this week, I overheard part of the play time that was going on in the Living room;<br />
Normally very quiet child:"I"m a RAISIN!! A R.A.I.S.I.N. !!!!!!"<br />
I immediately looked around the corner to see what was going on, but they were all just building with blocks?!!!Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-44233617381250214412016-01-29T18:43:00.003-08:002016-01-29T18:43:42.057-08:00On The Loss of a FriendI lost a good friend this week. Actually, I think I lost her a long time ago, but this is the week I finally, mostly, came to terms with it.<br />
We used to talk weekly. We've been through some hard things together. We were young together, we grew to be adults together. We did stupid things together. We had fun together.<br />
I lost a friend when I was in high school, but that was different. Someone tore us apart, and upon reflection, I'm pretty sure that the person who did that was mentally ill. And since then, our lives have gone completely different directions. I'm pretty sure God had other plans for us than we had for ourselves, and knew that if we remained friends we wouldn't get where he wanted us to be. Because of all that, I've been mostly okay with losing that friend.<br />
But this friend, the one I lost this week, is different. Our lives were so intertwined, and we shared so much with one another. I really thought we would always be friends.<br />
I'm pretty sure I upset her somehow, but I don't know how. And that's what gets me the most. We were friends. Why wouldn't she just call me and say," Hey, that thing you did seriously pissed me off. I am angry with you." I mean, I've done this with people. Wasn't our friendship worth that?<br />
I guess not. Maybe I'm just a terrible friend, one she's glad to be rid of. This could be true, I admit.<br />
I work 12 hour days and have for years. I devote most of my free time to my husband and family. I really don't seek out friendships with other people. But. But we were already friends. So what happened?<br />
The truth is, I don't know. I may never know. I've tried since to reach out and it didn't work.<br />
What it amounts to right now, is that I tried. And I have other friends. And I trust God to bring the people he thinks are right for me, into my life when I need them to be there. And, I suppose, send them away when they'll hurt more than help. Maybe I'll know the reason someday. Maybe not. But I still trust God to do what's right.<br />
<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" Jeremiah 29:11</span>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-51368863238111838622015-09-09T19:13:00.000-07:002015-09-09T19:13:09.358-07:00Random-i-Zations, Zombie EditionIn honor of one of my favorite shows, The Walking Dead, I thought I would do a totally-in-fun edition of my random-i-zations posts. Without further nonsense, here it is:<br />
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1. Things I don't think I could live without after the Zombie Apocolypse: Sweet Tea with lots of ice, and seasoned salt. Thought about adding Chocolate here, but I don't seem to need it as much as I get older :)<br />
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2. My dogs. Nothing is better than curling up on the sofa with my puppers and chillin'. But they are SERIOUSLY stupid. Buddy would try to lick the first zombie he saw, and Hunter would be so gone, so far, so fast, that no one would ever see him again.<br />
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3. Crunching through the fallen leaves in the autumn. One of my favorite things to do, but I suppose it would attract zombies, huh?<br />
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4. Road trips with the hubs. I mean, life would probably be one long road trip, but that's not the same, is it?<br />
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5.According to the show, everyone is already infected. But wouldn't some people be immune? Maybe I'm being a nerd here, but for every disease, there are always some people who are immune.<br />
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6. The people on that show are missing some fabulous opportunities. You can bet you'd find my butt driving a candy apple red Corvette down the road at a hundred mph after the zombie apocalypse.<br />
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7. AND wearing designer clothes while doing it.<br />
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8.Speaking of post-zombie apocalypse fashions, wonder why the shows fashions haven't caught on? Shouldn't everyone be wearing a cape this season?<br />
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9. Can I just get a shout-out for the Carol-Daryl "just friends" story line? Thank you producers, for not having this go where every single show ever made before has always gone!<br />
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10. Am I the only person who caught the "Terminator" reference in "The Walking Dead"? ("We're not going to make it, are we?")<br />
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11. I suppose staying alive during and after the zombie apocalypse is kind of like winning the lottery. I just haven't done that YET.Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-36733833566256725752015-06-26T19:06:00.000-07:002015-06-26T19:06:56.076-07:00A Biblical RantI have recently grown very tired of hearing from certain political party members just how they think I should vote, and the reasons why they think I should do so. Most of their rhetoric stems from their so-called Christianity.<br />
Now, let me here insert a sort of resume of mine, none of which matters at all really, but some people will need it to continue reading. First of all, I was raised in a Christian home. I have read the Bible cover to cover more times than I can count, and when necessary can quote chapter and verse for reference. All this to say, I know what I'm talking about, get it?<br />
To the Republicans and Tea Party Activists who think I should vote for them because they think they know what a Christian should believe, I say: " You don't have a clue." Reread the bible, all of it this time, and see if you can figure out where you've gone wrong.<br />
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1). Stop bad-mouthing the President and under-mining his authority. The bible says that you should "submit to all authority". <br />
2). Just let homosexuals do what they want, okay? It's not up to you to judge them. That's God's responsibility, not yours. Your job, should you choose to pay attention and do what is actually right, is to "Love your neighbor as yourself" . That's all of your neighbors, not just the one's whom you choose to like.<br />
3). Rich people should pay taxes too. "Render unto Ceasar what is Ceasar's."<br />
4). Being a Christian doesn't make you special. You don't get to change or ignore laws to suit yourself, or declare that this country is a christian nation; believing it doesn't make it so. And to those who want a christian president who interprets laws and the constitution only in light of the bible, let me ask you this: Will you still believe that when a christian president interprets the bible differently than you do? There are many, many denominations under the flag of Christianity, and even they don't agree on how the bible should be interpreted. What makes you think a Christian president would do things the way YOU think he should? More importantly, what happens when you're outnumbered, and the next president to be elected is a Muslim, or a Budhist, or a Jew, or an Atheist? Will you believe that the Presidency should be a religious office then?<br />
5). Why vote based on your religious view points, when by law, those cannot be taken into account?<br />
Yes, I vote mostly Democrat. I am also a Christian. They are NOT mutually exclusive. Yes, the Democratic party is jam-packed to the rafters with liberals, atheists, LGBT's, hippies, etc. But there are also Christians, small business owners, the older generation, and a couple of wealthy people. Those things don't define us. What defines us is the way we treat others, and the fact that we want what's best for people. The Bible tells us that Jesus hung out with "tax collectors and sinners". Guess what it also says? "For all have sinned..." That means all of those politicians who are telling you to vote for them because they're Chrisitan are also sinners.<br />
Please, people, just do a little research before the next election, before you cast your votes. It's not as hard as you would be led to believe.Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-46913540788241236252015-06-26T19:03:00.002-07:002015-06-26T19:03:31.665-07:00Random-I-Zations1. My son is most like me, emotionally. My daughter is most like my husband, emotionally. But everything else in them is sort of , well, mixed up. It makes for an interesting family dinner.<br />
2. The series,"Alaskan Bush People" is actually a pretty interesting show. I sort of snorted at the thought of it when I first heard the name, but having watched it, it ain't half bad.<br />
3. Every Friday night at our house is pizza night. As soon as I mix the yeast with the sugar and water, our dogs go nuts. They love pizza!<br />
4. Stitch, Dog Number One, loved pizza as well. He gets a crust saved for him every week still. :)<br />
5. I am a Christian. I am also a gay rights supporter, pro-choice supporter, and a Democrat. These things are NOT mutually exclusive. (For supporting references, see: Jesus' words in the New Testament.)<br />
6. Inspiration, in my opinion, is 90% leisure time, 10% opportunity. Hence, the lag between blog posts.<br />
7. Babies are full of inspiration, but completely lacking in leisure time; One day, when I am retired, I will write a book entitled: "WHY would you put that in your mouth?!" This day is not that day.<br />
8. One night when my van was parked out front, someone backed into it, and left a gigantic scuff on the front bumper. My van is 12 years old, long paid off, and my FAVORITE vehicle. It might be ugly, but it's mine. However, I'm pretty sure that the person who hit it is more concerned about it than I am, but I would still have liked the opportunity to say to that person," Hey, no big deal!"<br />
9. I haven't regularly set foot in a church since we moved out here. I find that my beliefs are pretty much not mainstream. This comforts me though, based on the bible verse that says,"many will say lord, lord..." I am definitely NOT mainstream.<br />
10. I haven't won the lottery YET?!<br />
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<br />Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-62467418830456179712015-06-24T19:19:00.000-07:002015-06-24T19:19:27.248-07:00Small Business Owner/DemocratSo I'm a small business owner-I run a licensed in-home daycare. I pay taxes, give discounts, support the local economy. I take classes, sometimes give away my services to people who need it.<br />
The thing is, many people think I'm just a stay-at-home-mom, but that's not it at all. After years and years of doing this, I still get up at O'dark thirty, work 16 hour days, have no paid assistants, and pay ridiculous taxes on my tiny little income. I don't support myself completely, because I'm married and my husband makes a decent income. (and by decent, I mean not just minimum wage.) But I know other childcare providers who support themselves only on their own income. And I feel sorry for them. Because in my state, the government uses child care providers as political capital, every single year. Everyone in my business, in my state, who is experienced at this, knows to save every possible penny for the fiscal year changeover in July. Sadly, that usually means giving up things that other people take for granted: Paying bills on time, eating a decent meal every day, driving a reliable car.<br />
Like many people, I don't do this because I expect to get rich. I do this for a living because (1) I have to do SOMETHING for a living, (2) I figure I might as well do something I'm passionate about, (3) I like doing this, and the kids can tell that about me. <br />
Many people over the years have expressed surprise at the fact that I'm both a small business owner and a Democrat, but it's not really that hard to figure out. Once you get beyond the rhetoric, the "I'm a Christian so I vote Republican" nonsense, the fact is that anyone can TALK. But not everyone who talks the talk walks the walk.(<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">"Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter. </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #0092f2; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/matthew/7-22.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;">22</a></span><span class="highl" style="background-color: #fff4ec; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">"Many will say to Me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?'</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #0092f2; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/matthew/7-23.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;">23</a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">"And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME, YOU WHO PRACTICE LAWLESSNESS.'</span> Matthew 7: 21-23) How many of those in that party are part of a company who has assets hidden in an overseas bank? How many have sent our jobs overseas?<br />
So, in spite of the fact that not every Democrat politician lives a life I approve of, (who does?!" For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God " Romans 3:23) I vote Democrat because they support the small working class man and woman. They're not worried about their flippin' bottom line at the expense of the Everyman and Everywoman. They know we're not indentured servants, they don't own us. They fight for us, because they are us, or they came from us.(<span style="background-color: #fff4ec; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">"The King will answer and say to them, 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.' Matthew 25:40) </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff4ec; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">So, forget all the nonsense they try to distract you with: abortion, whether or not Obama was born here, gun rights, etc.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff4ec; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> Boil it down to the truth: what are they really doing for you? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff4ec; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">"You will know them by their fruits... Matthew 7:16</span><br />
<br />Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-18148079995134107432014-01-21T17:38:00.001-08:002014-01-21T17:38:25.327-08:00Grace and Peace: Stitch<a href="http://graceandpeace-bzsclmom.blogspot.com/2011/06/stitch.html#links">Grace and Peace: Stitch</a>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-66892719551701468862012-05-28T16:25:00.001-07:002012-05-28T16:27:13.987-07:00That Phone CallIt's Monday, Memorial Day, and I've just lit the grill. I sigh, polish off half a drink, and pick up my cell. Usually I call on Sunday, but yesterday was just too busy, so I put it off until today. When my sister answers, I'm surprised and pleased. A rare moment of sanity in a crazy call. We talk until there's nothing left to say, and the silence starts. Then I say , "I should talk to Daddy now."<br />
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Not that I don't want to talk to him. I do. But he's not really <i>him</i> anymore. After a few minutes of talk about me, the kids, my husband, the weather, the Cubs, we sign off. I tell him I love him and I'll talk to him later. It pains me to hear how pleased he was at my call.</div>
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I hang up, take another drink, and push the buttons to call my mother at the rehabilitation center. Hip repair; this one's working. She's eating dinner when she answers, and we laugh. No matter what time I call, she's always eating something. I listen to the commentary on the food-enough butter for the potato, really good strawberries. She asks about the kids, about me, about my husband, about the garden. I answer, sometimes 2 or 3 times. Then she asks about the grand-dogs, Are all three doing alright? I take a deep breath and remind her our oldest dog died last year, just like I did last week. </div>
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The same conversation, the same questions, every single week. Sometimes there's a moment of great lucidity, a comment or question that takes me by surprise. This week it's about my daughter, make sure to tell her how proud they are of her, for getting her CNA while still in high school, for having such great ambitions for college and career. I tell her my daughter's ambitions are inspired by the health problems my mother has had, and I can tell my mother is pleased.</div>
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The pain I feel as I sign off isn't unique to me or to any child of an aging parent. The guilt I feel at not being there, at not being able to help, is not unique. I give my sister the support she deserves for taking care of them through phone calls and prayers. It's all I've got to give. I let her know to call if she needs anything. </div>
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There are no answers to this situation. I'm not independently wealthy, I can't conjure out of thin air a full time nurse, a cook, a rehabilitation therapist, a doctor, a car for my sister. All I can do is to pray God , let this be enough. </div>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-60932730635030919222012-05-16T11:16:00.000-07:002012-05-16T11:16:28.404-07:00Lessons Learned From My MotherI realize this post is a little late for Mother's Day, but I wanted to get it up here anyway. My mother is a wonderful woman who loves her family dearly, and I learned a lot from her. So without further ado, here are <div>
Lessons Learned from my Mother:</div>
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1. Cooking is about more than the food. My mom's parents ran a restaurant , and my mother learned to cook from her mother, and I learned from my mother, and my daughter is learning from me. It's sort of a family inheritance. I make a mean pot of chicken and noodles, a dish I learned how to make when I was a teenager. I tweaked it a little to suit my family's tastes, but it's basically the same dish. (And if you want to know how I season them, ask my daughter what the spice "Simon and Garfunkel" is!)</div>
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2. Sometimes love doesn't look like love-at least not right away. Ask any teen anywhere, and they'll tell you that their parents are mean. I would have said the same thing when I was a teen. But as a parent, I now know that my parents did the things they did because they loved me and wanted me to turn out okay. </div>
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3. Sometimes you gotta take a break. I remember growing up, when I was occasionally home during the day, seeing me mother pour herself a cold Coke, and sit down with a magazine. I remember thinking how nice it was that she was able to do that, and wishing I could be my own boss one day. While I am my own boss now, the lesson still holds. You have to be able to take a break in order to be at your freshest for the tasks ahead. </div>
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4. Always put God in the right place. I don't know if I can explain this one adequately. I remember seeing my Mother praying almost every day. It taught me alot about how to look at my life. When things are at their worst, I almost always think to myself," God has always taken care of me, and he always will." I learned that at my mother's knee, praying along with her. It might just be the most valuable lesson she ever taught me.</div>
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5. Make your house a Home. Sometimes the ephemera is important. A comfy quilt, a soda when you want it, a chair in the back yard. These are all things that can make us feel like our place is the best place to be.</div>
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6. Your husband's opinion is the only one that counts. No one else should influence you in a direction that is counter to that wanted by your husband. Not a popular sentiment these days, but if you want a lasting marriage, it's the only way to go. I value my husband's opinion more than any one else on earth, and he makes me very happy. (If 26 years mean anything to you! )</div>
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She taught me a lot more than this, of course. And some lessons, I'm still learning. But I know enough to get through the day to day on my own, and that's the most important lesson of all! Thanks mom!</div>
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<br /></div>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-19390022567228785782012-05-07T10:24:00.000-07:002012-05-07T10:24:14.767-07:00Right Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Right Now...<br />
... we are loving the spring flowers on our third-year vinca vines, which magically established themselves in our rock border.<br />
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... we are enjoying some spring fires, with our found firewood, from our newly built woodshed.<br />
... we are looking for bullfrogs in our yard, which is apparently full of them!Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-87852937874010211512012-05-06T13:14:00.002-07:002012-05-06T13:14:48.540-07:00Randomizations1. I love to browse the internet for new recipes, but lately I've been noticing a lot of recipes that call for Nutella. I like Nutella, but what's up with all the recipes? Are they being put out by the company that makes it? Suspicious.<br />
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2. Hunter, also known as Tiny Puppy, is no longer so tiny or so puppy. He is just, well, sort of fat now. Unfortunately, he's still a lap dog. So, something like 40 pounds of bony dog occasionally finds it's way onto my lap, where he will actually growl (in a grumbly sort of way) if I try to move him.<br />
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3. The Comptroller for our little town has been arrested for surreptitiously making off with 30 million dollars in taxpayer money. The general assembly of the State of Illinois, however, remains free after promising 40,000 daycare providers they would be paid for providing daycare to 400,000 low-income children, and then changing their minds after care was already provided. Seems a little lopsided to me.<br />
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4. Woke up yesterday feeling like a cold was coming on. Today I feel like someone deflated me-no energy at all, achy, sore throat, etc. It's a weekend, of course. Monday morning I'll probably feel wonderful. Why is that?<br />
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5. Speaking of the Comptroller's arrest, how in the world do you not notice a missing 30 million dollars? If I lose a twenty, I freak out, and clean my purse, pockets, car, and couch cushions until I find it. If it isn't found, I go into serious mourning. Thirty million dollars? I think I'd notice.<br />
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Ah, well. Life goes on as usual. Have a great day!Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-4873617761969733742012-04-23T18:59:00.000-07:002012-04-24T05:04:04.974-07:00I Am An AmericanI am an American. I am third generation.I am the result of the dream of two entire families' dreams to come to the "land where the streets are paved with gold."<br />
My paternal grandfather was Russian, my maternal grandfather was German. Paternal grandfather came here in 1914, by himself on a boat (the last boat before the war), at the age of 14. By the age of 19 he was drafted into the army. By the age of 20 he was married to another Russian emigrant, and a naturalized American citizen. He got a job at Chrysler in Detroit, Michigan, and raised three children.<br />
My father, one of those children,drafted into the Korean war, where he met my future uncle, who died in Korea. My future father, after his discharge, went to meet my my uncle's sister, fell in love, got married, and had five children. He worked at General Tire and Rubber most of his life, going in at three a.m. and coming home twelve hours later, in order to support five children.<br />
Me, one of those five children. I met my husband, and we fell in love, got married, and are raising our own children, while he works for the auto industry, as my grandfather did, while struggling to raise our own children and live the American Dream.<br />
The American Dream, you say? It still exists, it still lives. It still thrives.<br />
We, the rank and file of Americans, are still here. We work, we live, we laugh. We Vote. We walk picket lines, we give to charity, we believe in God. We shop at local stores, we support our neighbors, we help where we can. Do not discount us. Do not forget us, or think we are worthless, for we are Americans. We built these United States, we fought for them, we stand for them. We are America. I, we, are America.Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-84069733959296204982012-04-19T14:09:00.001-07:002012-04-23T19:03:11.381-07:00Conversation Overheard In a Daycare6 year old: "The baby has a rash on her head."<br />
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Me: "That's not a rash, it's a birthmark."</div>
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6 year old: "Oh."</div>
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(Ten second pause)</div>
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6 year old: " I think you mean a rash."</div>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3229671224605346618.post-41753460271379651392012-04-14T19:03:00.002-07:002012-04-14T19:34:21.693-07:00To Whom It May Concern:Dear Cow-lady:<div> I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt when you showed up with your obviously under-medicated half dozen children, because there was always the chance that you could control them once the movie started. Once you started grazing on popcorn with your mouth open, however, and shouting at the top of your lungs, "I'm ready for some FUN! Who's ready for some FUN?! " , I began to have some doubts. You should be glad that I am nearly deaf in my right ear, because once your slightly chromosomaly-short child began guffawing HA! HA! HA! in my left ear, I had a seriously hard time not telling you how to properly raise your children, having actually been there. At the point I turned around and glared at you, you were dangerously close to an eye poke. And anyone who has raised children properly, knows that the proper distribution of parent-child at a movie theatre , is child, parent, child, parent, child, so that an arm-throw in any direction corrals a child. Nevertheless, you are obviously an idiot, and should be forcibly sterilized, or at least forced into parenting classes.</div><div>Sincerely,</div><div> The older mother who was forced to sit in front of you.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear applebees chef,</div><div> MEDIUM. Seriously, how hard is that? Having cooked for my family for the past 23 years, I have to tell you, medium is the easiest of all steak requests. Rare is this: throw a steak on the grill, turn it over, put it on a plate and serve it. Well done is this: Cook it till it crunches. Medium is anything in between. My husband and I both ordered a steak, medium. Why, then, did I get a steak that flipping mooed, while my husband got a steak that was perfectly pink in the middle, warm, and not bleeding? There are exactly TWO restaurants in the area, so I know you must get alot of practice cooking. Cook my flippin steak the way I order, or I swear I will call your mother. This is a small town, don't make me do it. I will. I WILL, I swear. Medium. It's not that hard!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Sincerely, </div><div> The lady who always sends her steak back, because you're an idiot who can't figure out what medium is.</div><div><br /></div>Valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13592422693684288999noreply@blogger.com0