What I'm cooking, and big news for next week

I made the mistake of eating lunch before sitting down to make this week's menu.  I chopped a big romaine salad with green pepper, red cabbage, toasted cashews and feta.  It was great.  Then I ate two pieces of leftover caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza.  Now I want a nap.

Because I'm full, and my jeans are tight, I'm browsing through old Cooking Light mags given to me by my sweet friend Becca back in 2006.  I rotate them by season and manage to find something new each time I dig in.  Thanks, Becca!

So.  The menu.  In no particular order:


The breakfast we didn't have last week.  I want breakfast on Monday because the WH and I are going to make smoothies for everyone at home group (small group?) and the two together just work for me.  Plus, Mondays are crazy with two ravenous track kids and one ravenous wrestling kid all walking in approximately 30 minutes before we need to walk out.  I can have the waffle iron hot and the bacon and eggs cooked and waiting...and then I WILL RULE THE WORLD!!!!

White Bean and Turkey Chili. I do believe we'll have this over baked potatoes, because we didn't eat them last week.  When you bake potatoes, whether you have a convection oven or not, please use this recipe.  And please do the olive oil rub with sea salt.  They'll rock your world.

Pulled Pork Sammies with Coleslaw.  Using my easy-breezy crock-potted-with-a-can-of-Coke pork loin and piled high on potato rolls.  Perfect for a multiple-sports-plus-youth-group night.

Posole (or Pozole).  I have a great recipe somewhere, will have to dig it up.  Served with Boy Cheese Sandwiches.


Spaghetti and Meatballs.  When Mel is here, we make Grandma Maroni's meatballs, but when he's not, I buy meatballs at Ikea.  The secret, should you choose to do this, is to enter through the exit doors, grab a bag of frozen Swedish meatballs in the cooler by the checkout, and get the heck out.  When we lived in Germany, Ikea was a grand adventure, but here in America it's nothing more than a giant, annoying maze. (Unless you're a teenager. Then it's a great place to play Manhunt.)  I always, always make my own sauce, using the Cooking Light Basic Pizza Sauce recipe as a starting place, and sometimes subbing red wine for the white.

Thai Chopped Chicken Salad, because I didn't make it last week, and for the life of me, I cannot come up with anything else.

There will be much baking this week.  First, my Mom's Lard-Arse Brownies (I swear that's the title) to go with an unopened container of ice cream found languishing in the back of the freezer.  Also, chocolate chip cookies for lunches, because a dude at Costco tried to sell me some cardboard thing dotted with chocolate chips, and I told him I would bring him a real cookie.  Last (term used loosely), whatever the birthday boy wants for the party he's having this weekend.  My award-winning (seriously!) cheesecake is usually his first choice, but I'll have to let you know.

So.  The big news for next week is that my fabulously witty and artistic and well-traveled and adventurous and vegetarian friend Mary Dene is sitting in her apartment in Korea, making next week's menu.  I asked her to be my guest-blogger, and promised to cook whatever she puts on the menu.  I foresee a grand adventure, for two reasons.  First, her cooking skills faaaar outreach my own.  Second, when I asked the Wonder Hub if he was game for a week of veg meals, he said, "Sure, as long as you add meat."

My bedside table

for Christina.

 

Sooooo.  From the top down:

• America: The Last Best Hope, by William J. Bennett.  I mocked the Wonder Hub through all of the looooong months it took him to read this book.  When he finally finished, he dared me to read it.  Never one to turn down a dare (don't ask), I dug in.  I'm a pretty fast reader and imagined that I'd blow through it like a Jodi Picoult novel.  Only, it's not a Jodi Picoult novel.  It's interesting, yes.  It's got plot twists and turns that even Jodi could envy, but it is anything but a quick read.  It's fascinating.  It's educational.  It might take me the rest of my natural life to finish.  (The WH just started reading Volume II.)
• The Possibility of Everything, by Hope Edelman.  I don't know where I got this title, but it was in my Blackberry, where I keep a list of books I'd like to read.  I have a fascination with memoirs, and I'm excited to read hers.
• Day after Night, by Anita Diamant.  Have you read The Red Tent?  Enough said.
• The Five Love Languages, by Gary Chapman.  Chapman has written several of these books, one for spouses, and others for children and teens.  The premise is that people give and receive love in different ways.  We are most likely to give love in the ways that we would like to receive it, rather than in the way our spouse or children receive it.  We're using this in our church home group (small group?) and I think it's outstanding.
• Living Faith, by Jimmy Carter.  This book is my nemesis.  I bought it for $.25 at a used book store in 'Bama, and have been trying to muddle through it ever since.  It's not that it's not interesting.  It's not that it's not well written.  It's me, Mr. President, it's me!  I promise!
• The Unfolding of Language, by Guy Deutscher.  Mel sent me this book, knowing I would love it.  We both think that it should be required reading for college English majors.  Mr. Deutscher has written a fascinating (and terrifying) history of language.  I, who lament daily that English is a dying language, was appalled to learn that pretty much every generation since the beginning of time has felt the same.  Our language is devolving, people.  It breaks my heart.  After reading Mr. Deutscher's findings, I am fully convinced that sometime in the near future, teenagers will have their way and Webster's will print the word Fail and designate it as a noun.  It will be epic.

So there you have it, folks.  Karen's bedside table.

Random Thursday

1. I had helped myself to a second serving of leftover Tikka Masala (I hide it in the back of the fridge so no one else eats it) for lunch.  My inner dialogue went like this:

You made it with fat free half & half.  It barely has any fat.
Maybe skip the rice this time around?
Yeah, but turmeric is so good for you.
What the heck is fat free half & half, anyway?

It's a valid question, don't you think?  What exactly is fat free half & half?

1. a.  Half an avocado is virtually undetectable in a morning smoothie.  Any more than that and I'm busted.

2. I sing to my dog.  I think she loves it.  I make up silly songs about how wonderful she is, and she responds by eyeballing me, rolling over, and going back to sleep.  I guess my sweet voice has a lullaby effect for her.

I sing to my God, too.  When it's just us, I call Him Yahweh.  Yahweh is the name He gave Himself when making a covenant with Abraham.  I love to be reminded that Yahweh is the same today as He was all those years ago.  Hebrews 13:8 says, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever."  Think about that one for a minute.

I think Yahweh likes it when I sing to Him.  I'm glad, because nobody else seems to.  After church one day the Wonder Hub asked me, "Can you hear yourself when you sing?"

3. I've been limited by my physical therapist to the elliptical and the recumbent bike for indoor exercise, walking for outdoor.  Every time I get on the elliptical, I consider poking my eye out (and yes, I do believe that is a grammatically correct description for what I feel.  Poke my eye.out.).  Monday, in addition to eye-poking boredom, I was subjected to The Real Housewives of New Jersey.  Clearly, there are plenty of people who love that show, but I am not one of them.  First, um, what exactly does "Real" refer to?

I could do a Real Housewives show.  I could.  There would be no Hell's Angels or whatever it is that they inject into their lips to make them look like they need a Benadryl.Stat!  There would be no Bentleys or fur coats.  There would be no ridiculously long nails jabbing at iPhone screens as housewives prepare to give each other pieces of their minds.  Which, really.

There would be a lot of feeding of children.  Do those women have children?  There would be chores, and homework, and shivering in the cold wet spring and fall at said children's outdoor sporting events.  And laundry.  Don't forget the never-ending laundry.

Okay, so maybe I don't have what the Real Housewives franchise is looking for.

4. There are still remnants of my birthday pedicure hanging on for dear life.

5. I wrote that, realized how embarrassing it really was, and went upstairs to take my toenail polish off.  So...public humiliation is motivational.  Good to know.

6. I'm down to one cup of coffee.





In the afternoon.  One cup of coffee all day?  Are you crazy?  That's like saying, "I'll have one Thin Mint Girl Scout cookie, please."  Nonsense.

I've been using Almond Joy creamer, just for that one cup.  'Cause you know, sometimes you feel like a nut...

6. I was surprised at the response I received to my confession about writing utensils.  I had no idea people felt so strongly.  I had no idea I was so...normal.

7. Except that you're not.  Normal.  The vast majority of people who wrote, either here or on Facebook, said that they need blue, skinny pens for their lives to be complete.

Weirdos.  I love you all.  Enjoy your skinny, dental-instrument-scritching, nails-on-chalkboards blue pens.  I and my supply of My First Ticonderoga pencils will get along just fine.

 

8.  I wondered, just for a second, if there might come a day when I've run out of random thoughts. But then I remembered something I want to tell you...

Wednesday, Wednesday

Wednesday needs a good title.  Somebody throw me a line here.

As is true with most of my life, the Days of the Week posts came about accidentally.  Let's just say they are a tribute to my friend Carey.  You can ask her why.

But really, it's just kind of happened this way.  For a very unstructured (ahem) person, this is a pretty good plan.  It keeps me in line.  So, in the interest of full-disclosure, Wednesday will be the day I write about "running the race."  In case you've missed it, "the race" is a reference to this verse:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Hebrews 12:1

I wrote about the verse once, here.

It has been brought to my attention that by writing only about food and cooking food and boys and all the random randomness that captures my brain, I am not putting forth me in the most honest and forthright manner.  You see, this race is my life's priority (even when it's not), and as such, it is my desire to use my words to that end.

So.  I hope you'll read on Wednesdays.  My God is up to something over here, and when He's up to something, it's always good.

Snow day?

I noticed that they didn't even bother to designate today's cancellation.  In the past, it has been

Incliment Weather Day, or
Ice Day

but not once this year has it been a Snow Day.

(Maybe once back in Ought-10, but it's just a hazy memory.)

At any rate, we are currently using our very last of the snow days built into the school-year calendar.

This is what it looks like outside my back door.

No, wait.  THIS is what it looks like outside my back door:

...which is exactly what it looked like on our last day off of school, eleven days ago.

I'm careful not to be critical of the people who make these decisions.  I wouldn't want to do it.  I understand that our county (and therefore our school district) is ridiculously large, with varied degrees of development and terrain.  I understand that some parts of the county have gravel roads that are not plowed.  I understand that the safety of every child in the district lies on the shoulders of whomever makes the decision to cancel school.

I understand.  I don't judge.  I certainly don't want that responsibility.

I would, however, kindly request that this person, or people,


SEND FOOD.  NOW!

What I'm Cooking: Chickenless Week

Just kidding.  I made a big 'ol pot of chicken noodle soup this afternoon.  Remember that whole chicken I bought last week?  It's in the freezer.  It may still be there when Jesus comes.  A whole frozen chicken just seems like a lot of work.  Besides, I was wandering through Costco after church today (wondering just how many calories I consume there every week), when I heard the whole roasted chickens calling my name.  Never one to ignore a whole roasted chicken, I grabbed it.  When we got home, I chopped up celery, onion and carrots, minced some garlic and sauteed them all.  I wished I had saved that little stubby leftover end of the ginger from last night's Tikka Masala, but I didn't, so I dumped in the chicken torn from the roaster (thanks to the WH), covered it with broth and added some salt and pepper, rosemary and a couple of bay leaves.  Ten minutes before we were ready to eat, I threw in about 8oz of egg noodles and cranked up the heat while I ran to the grocery store in my ragged slippers and bought a five dollar (ack) loaf of three cheese semolina bread.  Which is now gone.

Now...the Wonder Hub just sat down with me to brainstorm this week's menu (he has graciously offered to hit the commissary with me tomorrow morning) and try as we might, we couldn't quite make it chickenless  (chicken-free?).  Here is what we've got (in no particular order):

Spicy Sausage Potato Soup, because there was no kale at the commissary last week.
Pad Thai, with chicken, because I don't eat shrimp.
The Naan I bought last week for Tikka Masala.
The veggies still waiting for me to buy Marsala wine for roasting.
Caramelized Onion and Proscuitto Pizza.  Mercy.
Loaded baked potatoes, with a bunch of healthy stuff and a side of chili so no one will starve to death.
Taco Salad, which really will be taco salad for the WH and me, tacos for the boys.
Waffles of Insane Greatness.  A Rachel Ray recipe Mel gave me, identical to this one.  Served with sausages or bacon and eggs and biscuits and smoothies and whatever else is required to fill the Marianas Trench.
Mom's Banana Bread. With chocolate chips.  Always.

The Cooking Confessional, or No Rest for the Wicked

Monday
CAbi Party Extraordinaire came off without a hitch.  Well...I did forget the mushrooms for the spinach and goat cheese fritatta, because when I make it for my people, I omit the 'shrooms and add sausage.  I know, but what I've discovered is that when either bacon or sausage is present, nobody notices spinach.  It's possibly my greatest discovery.  Anyway, sweet Julie brought the mushrooms when she came, which meant that everyone was full of scones, cheese, and Charlotte's amazing wild rice chicken salad by the time the fritatta was done.

Home Group (Small Group?) Mexican Fiesta Valentine's Dinner.  It was outstanding.  I truly wasn't hungry (see above), and decided to forgo a tortilla and make myself a healthy taco salad...which would have been fine if it weren't for the darn tortilla chips.  Tortilla chips get me every time.  And dessert.  Cheryl made cream puffs.  Seriously.  I had two.

And now I'm beginning to see the value of keeping a food journal.  Basically, I ate all day and then I ate all night.  Amen.

I was supposed to make homemade pico de gallo for the Fiesta, but honestly, the last of the CAbi ladies left at five, home group began at six, and I was exhausted.  Instead of homemade, I treated my lovely home group friends to Costco's finest salsa.

 The tomatoes are still waiting to be turned into something magical. Sigh.

Tuesday
For lack of better terminology, I was suffering from a socializing hangover.  I was fried.  When we all gathered from our various late afternoon undertakings, the Wonder Hub took one look at my face and grabbed hold of the reigns.  Hallelujah, we had enough CAbi leftovers, plus thisnthat, to fill the bottomless, gaping holes that are the boys' bellys.  Honestly, all I remember is that I hoarded the last of the wild rice salad, which has earned a permanent place on the cooking rotation.

Wednesday
I cooked the ever-loving life out of four chicken breasts, and then spent an inordinate amount of time shredding them finely so that nobody would notice.  When I opened the sauce for the enchiladas, I discovered that it was red.  I sputtered and fumed for a minute, and then threw my hands up and opened an extra can of green chilies to make up for the loss of liquid in my filling.  Fortunately, I remembered that there was one lone can of green sauce hiding in the basement, and used that to top them off once rolled.

They were pretty darn good.


Thursday 
I can't, for the life of me, remember Thursday.  Oh!  I got started early on Thursday and whipped up a little breakfast casserole.  I used this recipe, but changed it to fit my mood.  This is what I did:

One pound bacon (no explanation necessary)
One cup diced onion (1/2 just didn't look like enough)
One cup diced green pepper (and then I ate the rest of the pepper slathered with Trader Joe's Three-Layer Hummus. Glorious.)
Eggbeaters to equal 12 eggs (I could tell you I do this for health reasons, but I'd be lying.)
One cup milk
Tater Tots to cover bottom of 9x12 pan
Salt
Pepper
Dill Weed (Which made me laugh. Every time I looked at it, I laughed. I'd say it out loud and laugh.  I'd read it and laugh. I'd think "dill weed" and laugh.)
Cayenne Pepper
Sharp Cheddar Cheese

Put bacon on foil-wrapped (for the love of all that is good and holy) cookie sheet and place in cold oven.  Bake at 400 for 15-17 minutes.  Remove to paper towels to cool.  Use (some of) bacon grease to saute onion and pepper.  Meanwhile, cover bottom of 9x12 pan with Tater Tots. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and cayenne.  Bake at 350 for 10 minutes and then smash down a bit with fork (you don't want Tots to suck up all of your egg mixture). In large bowl, combine Eggbeaters, milk, salt, pepper, dill weed (did you laugh?), and mix with fork.  Add sauteed onion and pepper, dump over Tots.  Cover lightly (or heck, heavily) with cheese.  Bake at 350 for 40 minutes (mine took a little longer).  CHOW DOWN.

It's a banner week, people.  I have not only one, but two new recipes joining the regular rotation.  This was good, and I'm convinced that the extra bacon put it over the top.

Friday
We're at that point in life where our kids have fairly intricate social lives that do not include us.  These fairly intricate social lives, however, still require our chauffeuring services.  Hence, once we finished dropping them off at various places that do not include us, we went out to dinner.  At Uncle Julio's.

AND NOW...

Pastor Ryan's Tikka Masala.  These babies are waiting upstairs for me.  These, and at least three family members who have each come down and begged to know what, and more importantly, when, is dinner.

Seventy-two fahrenheit

It's a glorious day here, people!  It would be criminal to sit inside writing while the sun shines outside.  I'll be back tomorrow with my end-of-week cooking confessional.  Happy day!

Random Thursday

1. I hate skinny pens.  And blue pens.  Man, I hate blue pens. I asked the Wonder Hub if he thought it was normal for a person to be so opinionated about writing utensils.  He looked at me for eight or ten seconds and then said, "I don't. know."

2. Canned peas are not food.  They are a terrifying color.  And the texture!  Don't even get me started on the texture.  I shudder.

3. I might be the only person on earth who refuses to use texting shorthand.  After owning a Blackberry for nearly two years, I just (accidentally) discovered that it will autofill apostrophes. 

4. I put an avocado in the boys' smoothie this morning.  Kid #2 (henceforth known as Bubba) saw me do it.  He eyed me dubiously, but gave it a try.  He's far too sweet to complain, but I knew it was not.good when he handed his glass to me and said, "Try it."  After I tried it we dumped it back in the BlendTec and added another dose of almond milk.  He drank it without a word.

Kid #1 (henceforth known as Moose) gulped his down without comment.  Truthfully, he probably gulped it down without tasting it.

The Monkey tasted his and then made me swear that there was no broccoli involved.  Twice.  When I'd sworn and sworn again, he drank up and confessed,  "This is actually good, Mom."

Thanks, dude.

5. I make a list every Monday.  It includes all of the things I don't want to do.  My goal is to complete it by Friday.  Since I often lose the list, I've started using the "task" function in gmail.  It drives the Wonder Hub nuts.  There is nothing that man loves more than crossing off items on a list.  On Tuesday, he looked at my list and asked,

Did you get a new PCM and make an appointment?  
No.
Did you call the physical therapist?
No.
Did you quit eating Nutella out of the jar with a spoon?
Um, no.
Did you call about dental records?
No.
Did you finish the query for Focus?
Yes!


He sighed, and marked off the query.


On Wednesday he asked,

Did you get a new PCM and make an appointment?  
No.
Did you call the physical therapist?
Yes!
Did you quit eating Nutella out of the jar with a spoon?
Um, no.
Did you call about dental records?
No.


He sighed, and marked off the physical therapist.

The man clearly doesn't get the "finish by Friday" part of my list-rules. 

6. All day yesterday my brain was convinced that it was Monday.  Even when I or some reality-based life event would tell it otherwise, it refused to believe.  Imagine its surprise this morning.  Hallelujah, it's Thursday!  Even better, it's Thursday before a three-day weekend!  Exactly how this happened, my brain is not sure, but we've decided to run with it just the same.

Hope Happens

If the weight on your shoulders is more than than you can bear,
If winter is not only a very long season, but also a place in your heart,
If you fear the cold will never leave, and the sun will never shine on your face again,
Look at these snowdrops pushing up through the cold February dirt,
Just a stone's throw from a pile of dirty snow,
And know this:
Spring will come.
The weight will be lifted.
The sun will shine on your face again.

And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us. Romans 5:5

What I'm cooking: Chicken Week

I really should start writing an end-of-week confessional post that details for you:

a) whether I actually cooked what was on the menu
b) if (and how badly) I messed up any given meal

Maybe I'll start that this week.  For now, though, I'm all bright and shiny and hopeful (and no, I haven't yet been to the commissary).  And the menu is......

For the little get-together I'm hosting tomorrow
-Spinach and goat cheese fritatta
-Cranberry scones with white chocolate icing (Okay, so I'm not actually making these.  My friend Mike from De Rubeen's cafe is making them for me.)
-A lovely wild rice chicken salad (recipe courtesy of the lovely Charlotte)
-Some Yummy Cheese (which I will find today) and crackers

If you can come, please do!  My house, 11:00, Monday.

For the always-starving crowd (in no particular order)

• Masala-Glazed Winter Veggies (thanks, Cher!)
• Spicy Sausage Kale Soup (thanks, Rani!)
• Pastor Ryan's Tikka Masala, which is seriously the best thing I have ever tasted.  I dream about Pastor Ryan's Tikka Masala.  I sub fat free 1/2 & 1/2 for the cream, but otherwise follow his instructions to the letter. Please make this, and please use turmeric and peas in your rice.  Please?
• Homemade chicken noodle soup.  Maybe even from a whole chicken.  
• Pizza.  Of course.  Type to be determined by my mood.
• Chicken enchiladas.  My recipe, at boys' request.
• Some kind of breakfast casserole.  Maybe this one, maybe not.
• A big, healthy salad...something interesting to go with enchiladas that will keep me from eating six pounds of tortilla chips.
• Pico de gallo for small group (home group?) Mexican fiesta Monday night.

I just went back to edit and realized it's a very chicken-heavy menu.  I wonder why I didn't see that yesterday when I was slaving over recipes and trying to make decisions..  Oh, well.   We'll call it Chicken Week.

Life Happens

I couldn't write for you yesterday because we had a snow day.

It was a doozie.  The snow came down in the night, surprising those of us who rarely check the weather, preferring instead to live life by the seats of our collective pants.

The boys were up and showered and fed, so clueless were we, when someone looked out the window and, seeing white, decided to check the school website.

Snow day, indeed.







Poor Molly had trouble getting out for her morning constitutional, as you can see..

The trees in the backyard strained under the weight of fresh snow...

The deck furniture groaned under tremendous pressure...

...and the trampoline, with its lonely buried soccer ball, dreamed of warm summer days filled with boys playing raucous games of Smear the Queer.

Like I said, it was a doozie.  A real Northern Virginia snow storm.  It took me back to South Dakota and the snow storms of my youth.   

So now you see why I couldn't write yesterday.  Every last molecule of my energy was dedicated to survival.

How Dinner Happens

You know by now that there is a menu.  And a (grocery) list.  And, excepting this week, groceries.

After the above, however, it all becomes what is commonly known as a crap shoot, depending largely on my mood, and...a few other things that are not as important as my mood.





Today, I am in the mood for butternut squash.  This is fortuitous, since in addition to three onions, two sweet potatoes and a can of green enchilada sauce, I've got nothin'.

 I took the butternuts, two small-ish beauties, and halved them.  I scooped out the guts, flinging seeds and dropping guts on the floor.  I watched Molly decide that she does not care for butternut guts.    I put them on a cookie sheet (the butternuts, not the guts), brushed them with olive oil, and roasted them for 40 minutes at 400 degrees.

Meanwhile, I noticed the leftover Superbowl cheese in the fridge (sharp cheddar and pepper jack), and decided to make bread for grilled cheese sandwiches...

...even though my people will be dumbfounded at the sight of grilled cheese sandwiches sitting next to butternut squash soup, since they firmly believe that grilled cheese sandwiches can only sit next to tomato soup.

But then I realized that I am almost out of flour.

But then I spotted some tortillas, and decided that butternut squash soup and cheese quesadillas is the newest, hottest pairing.

Which bring me to the seminal point of this post:

Sometimes dinner is a creative work of art, and sometimes it's just food.

The realization of this truth will, as truth is meant to do, set you free.  At the beginning of today's process, I intended to come up with a work of art.  Somewhere along the way I realized that:

a) nobody here is going to be thrilled with butternut squash soup.

b) regardless, it will be gone in the blink of an eye.

So there you have it, dear reader:  How Dinner Happens.

Random Tuesday

1.  I went to the dentist today.  My neck is sore.  My jaw is sore.  I'm still hearing that scritchy sound in my ears.

The dental hygienist (at the new dentist, the dentist with whom I made appointments and then couldn't remember who on earth I'd made appointments with, the dentist whose office, mercifully, calls to confirm that you are actually coming to your appointments and thereby tips you off as to who your dentist is) is a lady I've seen at my gym for the last two-plus years.  She's a stud.  I've always been intimidated by her studliness.  She turned out to be as sweet as can be, but I still never quite found the guts to tell her that I've always admired her studliness.

Even though I firmly believe in women complimenting each other at every opportunity.

Having one's mouth eternally wedged open makes conversation difficult.  Although we did chat a bit about the seven screws in my jaw.  I have to admit that I purposely leave that little detail off my dental medical history.  It's just fun to watch the hygienist, and then the dentist, puzzle over my x-rays.

Oh, c'mon.  The neck?  The jaw?  The everlasting scritching?  It's a small comfort to watch them puzzle while I sit there, rubbing my neck and looking innocent.

2.  I just made a pot of green chile stew with a boy.  I used this recipe, mostly.  I was drawn to it, but I'm not sure why.

I love that boy.

3.  We're working on a puzzle of Rome.  We bought it a hundred years ago, after we had spent one glorious week in Rome. 

If you ever need a tour guide in Rome, I'm your girl.

The Wonder Hub got it out Saturday evening, after I begged him for a tv-free evening.  He set it on the dining room table right before I called the two older boys (plus one extra) up for pizza.  They chowed down and worked on the puzzle for darn near two hours, forsaking all electronic media.

We considered it a pretty outstanding coup.

It lasted until the youngest boy (plus one extra) came in and made fun of them.  His mocking broke the spell and brought to their attention that they were actually using their brains, and they were actually having conversations while using their brains.

They all immediately retired to the basement.

It was nice while it lasted.

What I'm cooking this week

I have absolutely no idea.

It's Monday, 12:48pm.  It's too late to head to the commissary.  The big kids are out of school at 2:00, and they can't live without me.

Okay, so they can. They would probably Love.It if I went to the commissary now.  First off, there would be food to eat.  Second, I wouldn't be here to say, "No!  Leave the tortilla chips alone!  Eat some fruit, have a yogurt, find something with protein, for Pete's sake!"  (I do, to use the young adult's vernacular, literally say this every single day.)  I also wouldn't be here to ask their favorite question of all time: "What do you have for homework tonight?"

Yes, they can live without me, but I'm still not going.

I'm not even going to think about buying groceries today.  We're going to live off the land...or live on love...or more likely, forage for vittles among the vast store of Superbowl leftovers.  I think, with a little luck, I can make it until Wednesday.   Here is how I'll pull it off:

After school:
Fruit and yogurt (with much thanks to the Wonder Hub for going to Costco over the weekend)
Nachos made with leftover ground beef with beans, smothered in leftover queso with Rotel

An hour later:
String cheese and a smoothie

An hour later:
"Quit whining!  You won't die before dinner!"

Dinner:
On Mondays we meet with four lovely families that make up our church small group.  Word on the street is that Bridget is bringing Belgian waffle batter and all the fixins, including fruit, which officially makes it a well-rounded meal.  For once in our lives, we'll go on time.

Tomorrow:

After school:
Same/Same, subbing leftover bbq pulled pork for the nachos.

Dinner:
Green Chili Stew, adapted from a recipe someone gave me when we lived in Germany.  It's simple and savory.  I finally cooked that pork loin I bought last week, and set aside enough for a big pot.  I am also the proud owner of a freezer full of roasted Hatch green chilis, which will take this meal from average to stupendous.  Served with plenty of cornbread on the side, and some grilled sweet potato fries (not because the go together, but because I have sweet potatoes) to ease my guilty mind.

Wednesday:
This is where it gets tricky.

After school:
I have one box of Taquitos hiding in the back of the freezer, and there is always peanut butter.

Dinner:
I never got around to the Curried Butternut Squash Soup* last week, so I could make that.  There might be a small rebellion with back-to-back soup days, but I can take them.  Really.  I have this "freaky leg move" that takes down even a 150 pound high school senior in a flash.  I'll make more of Mel's Famous Rolls, which last week became two loaves of Mel's Famous Bread, and I'll be golden.

After that, dear reader, I am toast.  I'll come up with something brilliant (or buy frozen pizza) and get back to you.


*This is a different recipe than I usually use, but the addition of honey intrigues me.  I'll let you know how it goes, and if "freaky leg move" becomes necessary.

Um, Julie?

My crazy schedule is suddenly wiiide open, so I'm sitting here in my jammies with a cup of coffee and a box of Multigrain Wheat Thins, writing to you.  At noon.  12:22, to be exact.

Today is the first day this week that all three boys have been in school for the entire school day.  Does that make sense?  No?

I just wrote a paragraph explaining why all three boys have not been in school for an entire school day all week, and deleted it.  Because really, who cares?  You get the point, and the point is that I am at home, alone (well, Molly is snoring and twitching on her bed, but there is no other speaking being in my house at present), and that today's schedule suddenly looks like 1-25 between Cheyenne and Wheatland, Wyoming.

How did it clear so suddenly, you ask?

It happened like this:

There were three appointments on the books today, and then I realized that one of them was actually yesterday....and then the dentist's office called to confirm our Tuesday cleanings..

...and suddenly I had no appointments.



I have a lovely friend named Julie who has repeatedly offered to be my secretary.  I keep laughing her off, but I wonder if she feels like Monica on Friends when Ross was dating that girl with the messy apartment.  I wonder if she's twitching with a need to straighten me out.

I wonder if I should let her.

If ever

If ever there was a girl who needed grace, it would be me.

If ever there was a person who deserved a big 'ol slap upside the head from the Almighty, it would be me.  Multiple slaps.  Daily slaps.

Instead of the slap I deserve, I receive the grace I so desperately need.  I believe in that still, small voice because it speaks to me.  He speaks to me through His Word, through the people He has given me, through the endless tender patience of the man who puts up with me, through a vision (if you will) that showed my unorthodox family, through blood and marriage and divorce, covered in a sweet blanket that fell from Heaven.  The blanket was Grace.

This week He spoke to me through the sermon on Sunday.  Pastor Ray preached a fine sermon on the parable of the talents, from Matthew 25.  The points:

• The talents were given according to ability.  The master knew what each servant could handle, and gave accordingly.
• The word talent originally meant "balance," as in a scale.  Over time it came to be a standardized weight.  One talent equaled 6,000 denari.  One denarius was equal to one day's wage.
• The master did not tell his servants what to do with the talents he gave them.  He left that up to each individual.
• The first two servants doubled the money they were given (5 talents and two, respectively).  They were each given more.  The third (one talent) buried his in the ground.  The master used the word lazy to reprimand the servant.  The word "lazy" is translated from a Greek word that means "to hesitate."
• The lazy servant tried to excuse his behavior (or lack thereof) by saying that he was afraid.

Pastor Ray then asked me

What would you do for God if you weren't afraid?

Remember:

Whatever you've got, it's not yours.  It belongs to the Master.

What you've got, it's a lot.  Do not dismiss what God has given to you.

God blesses obedience.

Random Wednesday

This is an unbaked bbq chicken pizza.  I made an ultra-healthy whole wheat crust because I was feeling chubby (notice the ultra-healthy salad in the background).  The Wonder Hub, always helpful with the cooking feedback (and accustomed to this pizza crust), said, "Don't ever do that again."

I'll do it again.

I'm making Autumn Soup tonight, with Mel's Famous Rolls.  All Mel's recipes contain the word "Famous."  I'm making a double batch of rolls, because a) Try as I might, I can't convince my people that soup is a meal, and b) They'll eat twice tonight, once before youth group and once after.  Oh, and c) They lovelovelove Mel's Famous Rolls.  A double batch will make me famous (for all of ten minutes).

I bought my Sissy's birthday gift today.  It's a stupendous gift.  Her birthday is in June.  Any bets on how long I'll hold out?

I feel chubby.

I also bought this sweet soap dispenser today. 

Can you read it?  It says THE NUT HOUSE.

Before starting this post, I put the ground turkey breast in a pot to brown.  Just now, I noticed a weird sound.  I cocked my head, trying to determine where it was coming from.  I scrunched my brow, closed my eyes and decided it was not coming from the teenagers in the basement.  I got up, walked to the back of the house and looked outside at the HVAC unit.  It was only when I came back through the kitchen that I realized the sound was coming from the meat, which was now permanently affixed to the bottom of my porcelain enameled cast iron cookware.  

Yes, I realize I shouldn't be confessing this.

Blogging somehow makes it acceptable to confess your foibles to perfect strangers.  I've got a fairly consistent supply.  Just over an hour ago, I burnt the ever-lovin' life out of a boy's grilled cheese sandwich.

He recognized my error with a little shrug before chowing down.  He probably wasn't surprised.  It probably wasn't the first time he's eaten a charred grilled cheese sandwich.

Yes, I realize I shouldn't be confessing this.

Is it all becoming clear to you now?

Molly Sue

 This is a fuzzy picture of my sweet dog, Molly Sue.  She carries the weight of my world on her shoulders.  She is a bastion of compassion.  She feels my every mood and responds accordingly.

 This is what's left of my new Camelia.  It was planted late last summer and is covered in fat, hopeful buds that should unfurl in the next several weeks.  I gently dug her out from under the heavy, wet snow, but I'm not sure she'll ever be the Camelia she was meant to be.

Molly is beside herself with worry.

 This is my favorite azalea.  It's easily four feet wide, and blooms so beautifully in the spring.  It survived forty feet of snow last winter, and I'm hopeful.

 

 Molly is hopeful, too.

This is my holly.  I'm in mourning.

 Molly is in mourning, too.  See her mourning beads?

 I'm telling you, nobody ever had such a great dog.