Let's have a little fun, shall we?
I just wanted to share a few things that I really like. I am in no way endorsing or promoting anything or anyone. Just my opinions, just because I can. Unfortunately, I won't be sending any of these items to you. And they are totally random, by the way.
Pantene Aqua Light Shampoo - I have short hair. Thick hair. Limp hair. And I hate to admit this here - oily hair. Sometimes at the end of the day, I can smell the oily. This helps me with that. No silicone to weigh my hair and oh, the smell! I love the smell of this shampoo!
Aussie Sprunch Hairspray - I have probably used this off and on since high school. It holds my hair but, it's not stiff and crispy, nor does it leave white dandruff looking flakes! And again, the smell!
Microsoft Wireless Mouse - I cannot use the touch pad or the little roller ball on my laptop. It's so odd to me, I can't get comfortable with it and in a meeting, I totally look like a weenie! As a matter of fact, it's totally disabled on this machine. I'm so jerky with it and constantly miss my mark. This though, is the best mouse I have had thus far. The battery life is phenomenal, it doesn't track by itself, and the USB plug is so small, I barely know it's there.
Starbucks White Chocolate Mocha - and add a shot of peppermint for the holiday season (as a friend just said "Christmas in a cup")! Practically perfect in every way! (and don't look at the calorie count on that link - you're better off not knowing!)
Patti Callahan Henry - I love her books. I love her writing style. I get lost in her world, her stories. And those are my favorite books to read!
McDonald's Sausage, Egg & Cheese McGriddles - This is my favorite breakfast. I don't have them often but, I totally love the sweet mapleyness in the pancake part combined with the savory of the sausage. YUM!
My Thirty One Large Utility Totes and my Thirty One Market Thermal Tote - All of my Thirty One products are straight up black (or dang close to it). I'm not into funky patterns and such. The large utility totes are AMAZING! They hold so much, and they're great for groceries, we use it for our food bag on trips (snacks, cups, plates, etc.). And the Market Thermal - I can't tell you enough great things about this. It's not a cooler but, it keeps food cold or warm. The key however, is to zip it completely shut!
The Michigan Electronic Library - I use this site quite often to borrow books my local library does not have on their shelves. I check my library first and if they do not have the title I'm looking for, I head to the elibrary and by a grant established to pay for this, I can attempt to locate my book in any library in Michigan and that library will mail my book to my library, free of charge.
Caldrea hand lotion in ginger pomelo - I don't like hand lotion. It's greasy, sometimes it smells off and sometimes it's too thin or smells like a baby. I love this lotion! It smells great - I use it on my face actually! It's not greasy at all. I even keep a bottle on my desk at work.
Milk Duds - Chocolate coated, caramel goodness that melt in your mouth. Need I say more?
I picked up a "PocketBac" of Island Margarita from Bath and Body Works the last time I was there. I found myself now wishing they had that scent in shower gels etc. it's so fresh and limey!
I am a ChapStick junkie. Check my winter coats, you'll find at least one tube in the pocket. My purse has about 10 of them, they're in my nightstand, my medicine cabinets and there is probably at least one tube in every room. I have 3 tubes in my desk drawer. This year, ChapStick came out with Candy Cane Peppermint. I love it! I'll be stocking up. I did just see on their FB page, they have green apple! Cherry is my next favorite and when I was a kid - they had orange! Whoa! And grape...fruit...blueberry?
Tupperware Thatsa bowl - This bowl holds 32 cups! I use it to mix salads, casseroles, stuff that makes a big mess and falls out of the bowl while you're trying to stir it. In the link photo, it's one with the apples in it.
Bissel Lift-off Deep Cleaner - This isn't quite the model that I have but, apparently they don't make my model anymore. I love owning a carpet cleaner! I love having a cleaner on hand when I need one rather than having to haul one home. Certainly worth the cost.
This is my list. What are some of your favorite things?
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Happy Thanksgiving 2012
This is the first year since Jacob was born when I haven't hosted Thanksgiving dinner. I'm still cooking, we're simply celebrating as our little family this year. As I sit here with my cup of coffee watching the Thanksgiving parades on TV, I can't help but be reminded of all the blessings I have in my life.
Faith, Family, Friends, and of course my beautiful child.
Love, honor, and respect.
Freedom and those who fight for it and those who protect it.
Heath and (in)sanity.
Employment.
I could expand on this list for hours upon hours when all I really need to say is:
Happy Thanksgiving to my family and friends! May you feel as blessed to have us as we are to have you.
Faith, Family, Friends, and of course my beautiful child.
Love, honor, and respect.
Freedom and those who fight for it and those who protect it.
Heath and (in)sanity.
Employment.
I could expand on this list for hours upon hours when all I really need to say is:
Happy Thanksgiving to my family and friends! May you feel as blessed to have us as we are to have you.
Monday, November 19, 2012
It's Complicated
I've been trying/planning/hoping to write more this year. I need to write to dump a lot of the junk I carry. It's as if once I get all of these words out of my head, I feel lighter, clearer, ready to move on again. It's like this emotion all piles on and piles on and as I type (I don't like to write with a pen and that's another post), I can feel it dropping off letter by letter.
This is one of those days where I feel so complicated, so conflicted and so sad. I feel like I don't have the right words or the correct labels to express how I feel. I want so many things to be different, to be better but, I can't find the words to say what it is I want. It comes out as kind of a jumbled mess in paragraphs of thoughts. I just want something other than this.
It's days like this when I wish I had one of those Magnetic Poetry kits, the one titled Feelings - if there is such a thing. I'd like a big metal board where I can throw up words like, confused, conflicted, morose, snarky, sarcastic, independent, somber, glum, loving, compassionate, sensitive and on and on and on.
I wonder at times if it's being a woman that complicates everything. I look at men and well, they're so simple, they either eat it, sit on it or stuff it. They don't need much else, right?
And I wonder if it's so complicated because I'm a reader. I love this quote: “You get a little moody sometimes but I think that's because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up.” ― Pat Conroy
I do love to read and I am a little artsy, a little creative, somewhat of a visionary. I am of a free-er spirit. I'm not totally free becasue I have to follow some rules. I don't like to be grounded or forced to think and yet my mind is going and thinking and planning. All. Of. The. Time. It's difficult to turn it off.
I don't like to think of the negatives in this world. Abuse, neglect, starvation, sickness or disease and if I dwell on those things too long, I get too sad. I don't like to be sad. It seems I'm always sad. But, I'm not sad. If I look sad, it's generally not sad. It's likely pensive. Deep in thought. Because everything requires thought or to be analyzed.
I am somewhat spoiled in the ways of life, I know. I can't undo that. I like nice things and I have expensive taste - how I came to LOVE Perrier with lime water, I will never know. And though I do not know what it is like to be poor, I do know what it is like to have compassion for those in true need. If you don't know this about me, I will give you the shirt off my back if you needed it. Notice I said, "In true need"? I have a ZERO tolerance for bullshit. And I spent a lot of time on the farm. I know me some bullshit when I smell it. I smell it from miles away.
I like to believe that all people are good. That no one would ever intentionally hurt someone else. I know it's not true, yet I am always disappointed to find out again and again.
I am genuine. I don't pretend to be someone I am not. I don't pretend to have money, or things or a great writing ability, or tons of friends. I'm not a good liar. What you see is what there is. What I give to you or tell you is my honest truth or the truth to the best of my knowledge. I may exaggerate - for instance I like the number 900 - "I told you like 900 times... " but, this is me, all me.
It breaks my heart to be taken advantage of. To be looked at as I have a silver spoon. I do not. I don't talk about my past because it's my past. It's what made me, what shaped me and well, it's past. I can't change it, I can't undo it and I can't blame anyone for it. I promise you - no silver spoons here. In high school, my mom gave me (I don't remember the exact amount) money, for school clothes and I remember, I had enough to buy 2 pairs of jeans I liked. Every other night, I had to do laundry to have clean pants for school. She didn't give me any more money for jeans. She'd allow $X for shoes and if I wanted anything else, I had to pay the difference with my own money. So though it looked like I had the best of everything, I didn't. I only had the best of one thing and I worked an awful job with this bitch of a manager (that hated my guts because apparently my sister that was killed wronged her in some way and she felt it necessary to punish me) after school and weekends for the rest.
I am responsible. Almost to a fault. I am a rule follower and you won't find much higher integrity that what I have. My job requires extreme attention to detail. A high amount of respect. And a work ethic like none you have ever seen before. I am trusted with managing an insane amount of money day after day. Most people have no clue what I even do. That's okay. My boss knows. My company knows. My suppliers know. That's enough. But, if you ask me, I'll explain it to you. That paragraph was tough. I don't generally give myself much credit. I don't pat myself on the back and well, I like it when you do but, if it's too much, I get uncomfortable quick like!
I am independent. I am strong. I am determined. I do not have a college degree but, I'm not dumb. I am not stupid. I may be ignorant in a few topics and I will tell you when that happens. I am very well read. I do have common sense though I do make some of the dumbest mistakes. I can laugh at myself and I don't really care if you laugh at me - well, as long as I'm laughing too, that is. I am emotional. I cry. Easily sometimes. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm loud. I'm opinionated. I don't have tolerance for those who waste my time. I believe in family. I believe in friendship. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in God.
Yet, for all of these things that I am, somewhere someone thinks differently of me. And maybe there are numerous someones. There is someone who thinks I need to be shushed. There is someone who thinks that I think I am better than they are. There is someone who thinks because I do cry, that I am weak. There is a small child who thinks that because I drive a nice car I should buy him what he wants from the local store. There is someone who asks my opinion and doesn't care to hear it. There is someone who thinks I am spoiled, irresponsible, weak, ignorant or tolerant. It's easy to say that is their problem yet there are days when it hits in the heart. There I days when I think these things of myself and more - if only I were cuter, thinner, smarter, stronger...and then I realize again, that these things don't matter and I am who I am.
We're right back where we started from, aren't we? I am who I am and it's complicated.
This is one of those days where I feel so complicated, so conflicted and so sad. I feel like I don't have the right words or the correct labels to express how I feel. I want so many things to be different, to be better but, I can't find the words to say what it is I want. It comes out as kind of a jumbled mess in paragraphs of thoughts. I just want something other than this.
It's days like this when I wish I had one of those Magnetic Poetry kits, the one titled Feelings - if there is such a thing. I'd like a big metal board where I can throw up words like, confused, conflicted, morose, snarky, sarcastic, independent, somber, glum, loving, compassionate, sensitive and on and on and on.
I wonder at times if it's being a woman that complicates everything. I look at men and well, they're so simple, they either eat it, sit on it or stuff it. They don't need much else, right?
And I wonder if it's so complicated because I'm a reader. I love this quote: “You get a little moody sometimes but I think that's because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up.” ― Pat Conroy
I do love to read and I am a little artsy, a little creative, somewhat of a visionary. I am of a free-er spirit. I'm not totally free becasue I have to follow some rules. I don't like to be grounded or forced to think and yet my mind is going and thinking and planning. All. Of. The. Time. It's difficult to turn it off.
I don't like to think of the negatives in this world. Abuse, neglect, starvation, sickness or disease and if I dwell on those things too long, I get too sad. I don't like to be sad. It seems I'm always sad. But, I'm not sad. If I look sad, it's generally not sad. It's likely pensive. Deep in thought. Because everything requires thought or to be analyzed.
I am somewhat spoiled in the ways of life, I know. I can't undo that. I like nice things and I have expensive taste - how I came to LOVE Perrier with lime water, I will never know. And though I do not know what it is like to be poor, I do know what it is like to have compassion for those in true need. If you don't know this about me, I will give you the shirt off my back if you needed it. Notice I said, "In true need"? I have a ZERO tolerance for bullshit. And I spent a lot of time on the farm. I know me some bullshit when I smell it. I smell it from miles away.
I like to believe that all people are good. That no one would ever intentionally hurt someone else. I know it's not true, yet I am always disappointed to find out again and again.
I am genuine. I don't pretend to be someone I am not. I don't pretend to have money, or things or a great writing ability, or tons of friends. I'm not a good liar. What you see is what there is. What I give to you or tell you is my honest truth or the truth to the best of my knowledge. I may exaggerate - for instance I like the number 900 - "I told you like 900 times... " but, this is me, all me.
It breaks my heart to be taken advantage of. To be looked at as I have a silver spoon. I do not. I don't talk about my past because it's my past. It's what made me, what shaped me and well, it's past. I can't change it, I can't undo it and I can't blame anyone for it. I promise you - no silver spoons here. In high school, my mom gave me (I don't remember the exact amount) money, for school clothes and I remember, I had enough to buy 2 pairs of jeans I liked. Every other night, I had to do laundry to have clean pants for school. She didn't give me any more money for jeans. She'd allow $X for shoes and if I wanted anything else, I had to pay the difference with my own money. So though it looked like I had the best of everything, I didn't. I only had the best of one thing and I worked an awful job with this bitch of a manager (that hated my guts because apparently my sister that was killed wronged her in some way and she felt it necessary to punish me) after school and weekends for the rest.
I am responsible. Almost to a fault. I am a rule follower and you won't find much higher integrity that what I have. My job requires extreme attention to detail. A high amount of respect. And a work ethic like none you have ever seen before. I am trusted with managing an insane amount of money day after day. Most people have no clue what I even do. That's okay. My boss knows. My company knows. My suppliers know. That's enough. But, if you ask me, I'll explain it to you. That paragraph was tough. I don't generally give myself much credit. I don't pat myself on the back and well, I like it when you do but, if it's too much, I get uncomfortable quick like!
I am independent. I am strong. I am determined. I do not have a college degree but, I'm not dumb. I am not stupid. I may be ignorant in a few topics and I will tell you when that happens. I am very well read. I do have common sense though I do make some of the dumbest mistakes. I can laugh at myself and I don't really care if you laugh at me - well, as long as I'm laughing too, that is. I am emotional. I cry. Easily sometimes. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm loud. I'm opinionated. I don't have tolerance for those who waste my time. I believe in family. I believe in friendship. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in God.
Yet, for all of these things that I am, somewhere someone thinks differently of me. And maybe there are numerous someones. There is someone who thinks I need to be shushed. There is someone who thinks that I think I am better than they are. There is someone who thinks because I do cry, that I am weak. There is a small child who thinks that because I drive a nice car I should buy him what he wants from the local store. There is someone who asks my opinion and doesn't care to hear it. There is someone who thinks I am spoiled, irresponsible, weak, ignorant or tolerant. It's easy to say that is their problem yet there are days when it hits in the heart. There I days when I think these things of myself and more - if only I were cuter, thinner, smarter, stronger...and then I realize again, that these things don't matter and I am who I am.
We're right back where we started from, aren't we? I am who I am and it's complicated.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Dislikes: Nuts
I do not like nuts.
I don't mind a few honey roasted peanuts or maybe some cashews but, mostly I just don't like nuts.
I don't like them in cakes or cookies, bread or, I don't know - salad maybe. I don't even like crunchy peanut butter. No peanut brittle. No fudge - walnuts are THE worst!
My mom adores this crap called Pea & Peanut salad. Peas, peanuts and mayonaise mixed together? YULK! And she says to me "How can you not like this? You LOVE peas!" And I do love peas but, for as much as I love peas, I hate peanuts even more!
I have heard it all! Banana Bread without nuts? Chocolate chip cookies, without nuts? You don't eat Pecan Pie? What about Zucchini Bread? That without nuts too! Oh Brownies aren't the same without nuts! Yes they are, they're BETTER!
I don't even drink nut flavored coffee or coffee creamer! Do you believe that? No Hazelnut (I also think French Vanilla is gross) but, oddly Amaretto or almond flavoring doesn't bother me - and I totally love cinnamon roasted almonds but, I will not touch cinnamon roasted any other nut.
I hate being surprised by nuts. Taking a big bite of a cookie or banana bread and getting a huge, crunchy chunk of walnut? I hate that! I have been known to spit (politely of course) out nuts. I have eaten the brittle and spit out the peanuts. I will spit out the nuts in ice cream and I do not get nuts on a sundae. I have also been known to uh, suck the chocolate off of peanut M&M's and give someone else the peanuts! Okay. In my defense I was like 6 or 7 and I didn't know at the time how gross that was. But - this is how I know the depth of the love my sister has for me! Again, I'm so sorry for doing that to you!
It's a texture thing. It's a crunch thing. It's a teeth thing. I don't like the unexpected crunch. I don't like the chewed up nut paste. I must have strangely shaped teeth as the nuts ALWAYS get stuck in my teeth and I HATE picking them out.
Once in a great while, I'll have a Snickers bar, maybe a Baby Ruth and I do eat peanut butter. Just please, no nuts.
I don't mind a few honey roasted peanuts or maybe some cashews but, mostly I just don't like nuts.
I don't like them in cakes or cookies, bread or, I don't know - salad maybe. I don't even like crunchy peanut butter. No peanut brittle. No fudge - walnuts are THE worst!
My mom adores this crap called Pea & Peanut salad. Peas, peanuts and mayonaise mixed together? YULK! And she says to me "How can you not like this? You LOVE peas!" And I do love peas but, for as much as I love peas, I hate peanuts even more!
I have heard it all! Banana Bread without nuts? Chocolate chip cookies, without nuts? You don't eat Pecan Pie? What about Zucchini Bread? That without nuts too! Oh Brownies aren't the same without nuts! Yes they are, they're BETTER!
I don't even drink nut flavored coffee or coffee creamer! Do you believe that? No Hazelnut (I also think French Vanilla is gross) but, oddly Amaretto or almond flavoring doesn't bother me - and I totally love cinnamon roasted almonds but, I will not touch cinnamon roasted any other nut.
I hate being surprised by nuts. Taking a big bite of a cookie or banana bread and getting a huge, crunchy chunk of walnut? I hate that! I have been known to spit (politely of course) out nuts. I have eaten the brittle and spit out the peanuts. I will spit out the nuts in ice cream and I do not get nuts on a sundae. I have also been known to uh, suck the chocolate off of peanut M&M's and give someone else the peanuts! Okay. In my defense I was like 6 or 7 and I didn't know at the time how gross that was. But - this is how I know the depth of the love my sister has for me! Again, I'm so sorry for doing that to you!
It's a texture thing. It's a crunch thing. It's a teeth thing. I don't like the unexpected crunch. I don't like the chewed up nut paste. I must have strangely shaped teeth as the nuts ALWAYS get stuck in my teeth and I HATE picking them out.
Once in a great while, I'll have a Snickers bar, maybe a Baby Ruth and I do eat peanut butter. Just please, no nuts.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Likes: Coffee
Coffee is wonderful!
Perfectly roasted, brown little beans...have you ever eaten a chocolate covered coffee bean?
I love coffee - I used to steal sips of my mom's coffee any chance I had. She drank hers with just a little milk. When she found out I was sipping she bought me coffee flavored candies - Coffee Nips, actually. She always said "coffee stunts your growth - look what happened to me!" But, my coffee obsession started honest enough. It runs in the family.
One of my favorite memories of my Grandpa Nolff - my mom's dad is of him sitting at the end of their kitchen table having coffee in his white cup with the blue stripe - it was a heavy cup and there was only one but, I remember him adding his sugar and then with his three remaining fingers he'd hold the spoon and stir "Tink, tink, tink", the spoon on the sides of that old mug. Grandma made coffee in an old percolator on the stove, and as kids, we were allowed to drink water or coffee.
My grandparents are both passed on but, I do miss the smell of coffee percolating in Grandma's kitchen. There is no other way to brew coffee with that same aroma. Once in great while I'll find that smell of Grandma's kitchen on a cold winter morning. We used to spend the night on the farm once in a while but, staying in winter was my favorite! We all slept upstairs - except Grandma, she had her own room off the kitchen and we weren't allowed in it! Grandpa slept upstairs too and had his bedroom on the left, the girls room was on the right. If you got up in the night, you might see a tiny orange glow from Grandpa's bed, he sometimes would wake up and smoke a cigarette in the night. He didn't say much, he'd just kind of grunt and we'd say "Just going to the pot.", and he'd grunt again. We'd always check out the ashtray and find all these cigarettes with a burned filter - he'd lit the wrong end in the night. Lucky he didn't burn the house down!
The mornings there were the best! We always, always tried to get up and downstairs before Grandpa went out to feed the horses. I remember waking up, sniffing the air for his cigarettes and coffee - if you didn't smell either of them fresh - you might have a chance! I don't know why we didn't check his bed - his room was wide open but, we'd race down the stairs - bust through the door, and you better catch it before it banged on the wall - or you'd be sure to get it from Grandma, round the corner and through the living room to see the kitchen light was on and there he was sitting in his chair with that spoon in his cup "tink, tink, tink". And he'd say "Coffee's on. I'll finish this cup and go feed, hurry up, get dressed if you're commin' along." Talk about disappointment! Sometimes, I went out to feed with him, sometimes not. I liked the smell of the hay on a cold morning mixing with the crystals from your breath and watching that little man and his white Santa Claus beard hauling bales of hay to feed his big horses. He always let me feed them their oats.
He was a man of few words. He spoke to us kids mostly in 'hmm', 'uh-huh', 'yeah' and occasionally a "git the hell outta there dammit!' but, he was gentle and he was kind. I loved when he'd pour us a little cup of coffee with a lot of sugar and a lot of cream after coming in from the barn. My mom would always say "Dad!" and he'd chuckle and put the cup in front of us anyway - "Kids gotta get warm on the inside 'Eeen!". He was a hard working man and he was a tough man. He was a good man with a heart of pure gold. He passed away the fall after I graduated high school and Grandma's kitchen was never the same.
No matter how old I grow to be, I'll always remember his half smile when we'd come in the door while he stirred his coffee "tink, tink, tink".
Perfectly roasted, brown little beans...have you ever eaten a chocolate covered coffee bean?
I love coffee - I used to steal sips of my mom's coffee any chance I had. She drank hers with just a little milk. When she found out I was sipping she bought me coffee flavored candies - Coffee Nips, actually. She always said "coffee stunts your growth - look what happened to me!" But, my coffee obsession started honest enough. It runs in the family.
One of my favorite memories of my Grandpa Nolff - my mom's dad is of him sitting at the end of their kitchen table having coffee in his white cup with the blue stripe - it was a heavy cup and there was only one but, I remember him adding his sugar and then with his three remaining fingers he'd hold the spoon and stir "Tink, tink, tink", the spoon on the sides of that old mug. Grandma made coffee in an old percolator on the stove, and as kids, we were allowed to drink water or coffee.
My grandparents are both passed on but, I do miss the smell of coffee percolating in Grandma's kitchen. There is no other way to brew coffee with that same aroma. Once in great while I'll find that smell of Grandma's kitchen on a cold winter morning. We used to spend the night on the farm once in a while but, staying in winter was my favorite! We all slept upstairs - except Grandma, she had her own room off the kitchen and we weren't allowed in it! Grandpa slept upstairs too and had his bedroom on the left, the girls room was on the right. If you got up in the night, you might see a tiny orange glow from Grandpa's bed, he sometimes would wake up and smoke a cigarette in the night. He didn't say much, he'd just kind of grunt and we'd say "Just going to the pot.", and he'd grunt again. We'd always check out the ashtray and find all these cigarettes with a burned filter - he'd lit the wrong end in the night. Lucky he didn't burn the house down!
The mornings there were the best! We always, always tried to get up and downstairs before Grandpa went out to feed the horses. I remember waking up, sniffing the air for his cigarettes and coffee - if you didn't smell either of them fresh - you might have a chance! I don't know why we didn't check his bed - his room was wide open but, we'd race down the stairs - bust through the door, and you better catch it before it banged on the wall - or you'd be sure to get it from Grandma, round the corner and through the living room to see the kitchen light was on and there he was sitting in his chair with that spoon in his cup "tink, tink, tink". And he'd say "Coffee's on. I'll finish this cup and go feed, hurry up, get dressed if you're commin' along." Talk about disappointment! Sometimes, I went out to feed with him, sometimes not. I liked the smell of the hay on a cold morning mixing with the crystals from your breath and watching that little man and his white Santa Claus beard hauling bales of hay to feed his big horses. He always let me feed them their oats.
He was a man of few words. He spoke to us kids mostly in 'hmm', 'uh-huh', 'yeah' and occasionally a "git the hell outta there dammit!' but, he was gentle and he was kind. I loved when he'd pour us a little cup of coffee with a lot of sugar and a lot of cream after coming in from the barn. My mom would always say "Dad!" and he'd chuckle and put the cup in front of us anyway - "Kids gotta get warm on the inside 'Eeen!". He was a hard working man and he was a tough man. He was a good man with a heart of pure gold. He passed away the fall after I graduated high school and Grandma's kitchen was never the same.
No matter how old I grow to be, I'll always remember his half smile when we'd come in the door while he stirred his coffee "tink, tink, tink".
Monday, November 12, 2012
Bubble, Bubble, toil and trouble....
I feel like I'm getting too serious again. Kind of uptight. Not like, skirt and pantyhose with a matching cardigan uptight but, more like 'is that all you do is sit around and brood over everything' uptight. I am kind of uptight but, I do some really dumb shit and once in awhile it's worth sharing.
A few days after my meeting with the psychotic psychic, I started reading this book, The Psychic Housewives' Handbook and one of the first exercises in this book is to take your worries, your hurts and to list them out on scraps of paper and put them in a bowl.
Okay - I have to give you some background here. Before I started this exercise, I had happened across this article on phases of the moon. And I knew that the moon was about to change phases - at about 8:00 that night actually, the night I was doing this exercise. If I didn't do this exercise before 8 PM - I would be giving my worries and my hurts to the moon as wishes, rather than relief. I wanted to get rid of this junk, not bring it back onto myself. I had to get this done and now! Make sense?
I don't normally follow phases of the moon - I just happened to catch this tidbit. Or did I???
So, I have all these business cards leftover from my soap making and I thought, oh those would be PERFECT to write all of these 'uglies' on! So I did. Me, a blue Sharpie and a stack of cards, went to work. Thirty-three cards I wrote out. 33! Things from money, to Jacob's teeth, to finding the right Christmas gifts - I wrote them all down.
It was raining that day - so it was a perfect time to write it but, not so perfect for the next step.
I had to burn these cards. I had to watch my worries go up in smoke but, it's raining. What could I burn them in? Aha! I had an old Dutch oven thing in the basement from my grandma's farm. Grandpa even put a new handle on it so it could hang over the fire. (You know? my Grandma was Hungarian - they're rumored to be gypsies) Perfect!
I get back upstairs from finding and de-cobwebing this pot and I remember it's raining outside. I can't do this out back, there's no cover, I'll get soaked and they won't burn. I can't burn them in the garage - to much gasoline in there. The front porch? Perfect!
I do have to add - I believe I was thinking this stuff in my head but, I was more likely talking out loud, to myself.
I head out to the front porch with my pot, which just so happens to look like a small cauldron, thanks Gram, my cards, and the grill lighter to burn these babies only it's so windy that my torch keeps getting blown out and these damn cards are so thick, I can't keep them burning. I grab a candle. A red one - blood red actually, to light instead of the grill torch. I was also quite cold so I had on my big, black long winter coat with a hood up and I'm standing over this mini cauldron burning papers with a blood red candle on my front porch. Are you seeing this? Remember, my lips are moving because I'm talking to myself...
After an eternity trying to turn these cards into ash, I finally succeed. I worked at this for like an hour. The next step was to add water to the ashes and well, what better than rainwater? And I left the cauldron on the stoop to collect some rainwater in the ash. I blew out my candle and went back in.
About 20 minutes or so later, I come back to complete what my neighbors must be thinking is the oddest damn ritual they have ever witnessed. I take my little cauldron and go walking out into the yard dumping the ashwater into the grass sending all of my troubles back into the universe washing myself clean of them. Still talking out loud.
I rinsed out the pot and heading back in for the night feeling a little lighter, a little refreshed. I even had a bit of a bounce in my step. I gave all my worries to God - to the Universe. I got back in, took my coat off, shut the door, sat down and picked up the book again before I realized what I had done, what my neighbors and anyone driving by for that matter, had witnessed. At one point, I do remember seeing a sheriff and even waving to a few people I knew. I called Jeremy at work and reported the witch sighting in our front yard walking around, talking to herself, dumping dirty water from a cauldron into the neighbor's grass and tried not to die from embarrassment. Aw...hell, what's a little spell or two going to hurt?
A few days after my meeting with the psychotic psychic, I started reading this book, The Psychic Housewives' Handbook and one of the first exercises in this book is to take your worries, your hurts and to list them out on scraps of paper and put them in a bowl.
Okay - I have to give you some background here. Before I started this exercise, I had happened across this article on phases of the moon. And I knew that the moon was about to change phases - at about 8:00 that night actually, the night I was doing this exercise. If I didn't do this exercise before 8 PM - I would be giving my worries and my hurts to the moon as wishes, rather than relief. I wanted to get rid of this junk, not bring it back onto myself. I had to get this done and now! Make sense?
I don't normally follow phases of the moon - I just happened to catch this tidbit. Or did I???
So, I have all these business cards leftover from my soap making and I thought, oh those would be PERFECT to write all of these 'uglies' on! So I did. Me, a blue Sharpie and a stack of cards, went to work. Thirty-three cards I wrote out. 33! Things from money, to Jacob's teeth, to finding the right Christmas gifts - I wrote them all down.
It was raining that day - so it was a perfect time to write it but, not so perfect for the next step.
I had to burn these cards. I had to watch my worries go up in smoke but, it's raining. What could I burn them in? Aha! I had an old Dutch oven thing in the basement from my grandma's farm. Grandpa even put a new handle on it so it could hang over the fire. (You know? my Grandma was Hungarian - they're rumored to be gypsies) Perfect!
I get back upstairs from finding and de-cobwebing this pot and I remember it's raining outside. I can't do this out back, there's no cover, I'll get soaked and they won't burn. I can't burn them in the garage - to much gasoline in there. The front porch? Perfect!
I do have to add - I believe I was thinking this stuff in my head but, I was more likely talking out loud, to myself.
I head out to the front porch with my pot, which just so happens to look like a small cauldron, thanks Gram, my cards, and the grill lighter to burn these babies only it's so windy that my torch keeps getting blown out and these damn cards are so thick, I can't keep them burning. I grab a candle. A red one - blood red actually, to light instead of the grill torch. I was also quite cold so I had on my big, black long winter coat with a hood up and I'm standing over this mini cauldron burning papers with a blood red candle on my front porch. Are you seeing this? Remember, my lips are moving because I'm talking to myself...
After an eternity trying to turn these cards into ash, I finally succeed. I worked at this for like an hour. The next step was to add water to the ashes and well, what better than rainwater? And I left the cauldron on the stoop to collect some rainwater in the ash. I blew out my candle and went back in.
About 20 minutes or so later, I come back to complete what my neighbors must be thinking is the oddest damn ritual they have ever witnessed. I take my little cauldron and go walking out into the yard dumping the ashwater into the grass sending all of my troubles back into the universe washing myself clean of them. Still talking out loud.
I rinsed out the pot and heading back in for the night feeling a little lighter, a little refreshed. I even had a bit of a bounce in my step. I gave all my worries to God - to the Universe. I got back in, took my coat off, shut the door, sat down and picked up the book again before I realized what I had done, what my neighbors and anyone driving by for that matter, had witnessed. At one point, I do remember seeing a sheriff and even waving to a few people I knew. I called Jeremy at work and reported the witch sighting in our front yard walking around, talking to herself, dumping dirty water from a cauldron into the neighbor's grass and tried not to die from embarrassment. Aw...hell, what's a little spell or two going to hurt?
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Hello, my name is Gail. I am a hermit
We all wear so many hats. Think about all of your hats a minute...
Me? I like to cook. I like to read. I like to be with Jacob. I'm a sister. I'm a daughter. I'm a wife, a mother, a friend. I'm a homeowner, a dog lover. I'm a Lutheran. I am an employee. I'm a decision maker. I'm up north, small town and close knit. I'm loud, opinionated, stubborn and extremely detailed. I'm a planner and a doer. And the list goes on.
I have always been more of a loner. It's always been a joke with my sister and my mom "if you didn't have your nose buried in a book". I never felt like I fit in at home or at school. I was always trying to catch up to my sisters. And friends were hard - they didn't read! And when I did make friends it was tough because I don't like places that are busy - too many people. I don't go to concerts or festivals or popular bars/restaurants. Nix on the sporting events (I can talk myself into a Cardinals game - don't worry). Thankfully, I'm not much interested in those things, in being with all the people. Imagine radio static - like when you can't quite tune in the station - that is me in a crowd of people. I can't clear out that static.
As I'm getting older, I don't like to drive as much. I spend an hour on the road every day. That's 5 hours a week. I will drive to a bigger city if I'm confident in where I'm going otherwise, I won't go. I'll drive up to Manistee but, to go there and back in one day is too much for me. It's also hard with Jacob - he thinks I can look at everything he wants when he wants yet drive all at the same time!
I am a hermit. I am perfectly content to be at home with my books. Mmmm...books. I love my home. Everything that I love is inside of it (minus my Lake Michigan). I can be myself here. I can be at my best. Or my worst. I can be who I want when I want. Or not. There is no static.
I like being a hermit. To only want to be in my own element and I do still venture out of it. Oddly, the last time I had a reading she'd said my home was going to become my sanctuary this year. Hmmm...
Don't tell my mom, ok? She made me promise I'd never be a stay in the house book reading hermit!
Me? I like to cook. I like to read. I like to be with Jacob. I'm a sister. I'm a daughter. I'm a wife, a mother, a friend. I'm a homeowner, a dog lover. I'm a Lutheran. I am an employee. I'm a decision maker. I'm up north, small town and close knit. I'm loud, opinionated, stubborn and extremely detailed. I'm a planner and a doer. And the list goes on.
I have always been more of a loner. It's always been a joke with my sister and my mom "if you didn't have your nose buried in a book". I never felt like I fit in at home or at school. I was always trying to catch up to my sisters. And friends were hard - they didn't read! And when I did make friends it was tough because I don't like places that are busy - too many people. I don't go to concerts or festivals or popular bars/restaurants. Nix on the sporting events (I can talk myself into a Cardinals game - don't worry). Thankfully, I'm not much interested in those things, in being with all the people. Imagine radio static - like when you can't quite tune in the station - that is me in a crowd of people. I can't clear out that static.
As I'm getting older, I don't like to drive as much. I spend an hour on the road every day. That's 5 hours a week. I will drive to a bigger city if I'm confident in where I'm going otherwise, I won't go. I'll drive up to Manistee but, to go there and back in one day is too much for me. It's also hard with Jacob - he thinks I can look at everything he wants when he wants yet drive all at the same time!
I am a hermit. I am perfectly content to be at home with my books. Mmmm...books. I love my home. Everything that I love is inside of it (minus my Lake Michigan). I can be myself here. I can be at my best. Or my worst. I can be who I want when I want. Or not. There is no static.
I like being a hermit. To only want to be in my own element and I do still venture out of it. Oddly, the last time I had a reading she'd said my home was going to become my sanctuary this year. Hmmm...
Don't tell my mom, ok? She made me promise I'd never be a stay in the house book reading hermit!
Monday, October 29, 2012
Miss Me But Let Me Go
Miss Me But Let Me Go
Miss Me But Let Me Go - Unknown
When I come to the end of the road
and the sun has set on me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room,
why cry for a soul set free.
Miss me a little--but not too long,
and not with your head bowed low,
Remember the love that we once shared,
miss me--but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take,
and each must go alone.
It's all a part of the Master's plan,
a step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart,
go to the friends we know.
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,
miss me--but let me go.
and the sun has set on me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room,
why cry for a soul set free.
Miss me a little--but not too long,
and not with your head bowed low,
Remember the love that we once shared,
miss me--but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take,
and each must go alone.
It's all a part of the Master's plan,
a step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart,
go to the friends we know.
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,
miss me--but let me go.
In memory of my beautiful sister, Valerie Lynne. 8/20/62-10/29/83
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Parked cars: A History
My first victim. A 1979 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. This is the exact model.
I grew up in a small town, on the shores of Lake Michigan in the 80's. I remember I had a blue 10 speed bike and I could go anywhere on my bike and I often did. We lived on 4th Street, kind of in the center of town and I had a little friend down on 9th Street and I'd often ride my bike down there to play. It was only 6 blocks (I know that doesn't add up but, between 5th and 6th Streets was a little one block street - Sophia Street), and all downhill to her house. I was there in like 5 minutes but, it was riding back home that was the problem. It was then 6 blocks all UPHILL!! Being the creative and innovative (lazy) child that I was, I found a route home that was a bit flatter - The back way! Fairview Avenue!
I was only around the corner from my friend's house. I was dilly-dallying around and the next thing I knew I was lying on the windshield of a PARKED car. My bike had totally flipped up and over the car. It was in the street behind the car. What a dope! The owner of the car came running out of the house, checking to see if I was ok, wanting to call my parents - thankfully, all that I'd hurt was my pride! Not a scratch on his car! No damage to my bike. And best of all, no parents were called!
My 2nd victim - the Jeep Grand Cherokee:
I was dropping the most adorable preschooler EVER off at school one morning before continuing on to work. I was running a little later than usual and couldn't have my normal parking spot so I had to go to the back row. I'm just pulling into the spot, as Jacob is opening the back door getting out and a bus - BIG, yellow, school bus, is coming through the parking lot as Jacob is running toward it. Apparently I didn't put my truck into park before I jumped out to grab Jacob because the next thing I heard was "BAM!" as my truck hit the Jeep Grand Cherokee PARKED in front of me. I was ready to DIE. Like 40 parents standing out there waiting for the door to open and I just hit one of their cars. Of course the mom runs over, screeching, "It's mine! It's mine! That's my car!". I sent Jacob who is all - Mom you just crashed that car! - in and went back to look at the Jeep. And I prayed. Thank God - no damage, I look at my truck and there is a perfect outline of the Jeep's trailer hitch in the paint on my bumper (it's still there). I was talking to the mom who drives this vehicle and guess what!?! It's not hers! She had borrowed it from her father while hers was in the shop, this was the first day she had it and I managed to hit it! I gave her my number if they found any damage to call me. But, OMG - that was the loudest noise EVER and ALL 80 eyes were on ME! You'd think no one had ever seen anyone hit a parked car before! I also bumped one in the mall with Jeremy's car once but, it's not much of a story.
Alas, victim #3 and the most recent I might add.
The PT Cruiser.
Did I ever tell you I also had my foot run over and was drug through a parking lot on my knees by a PT Cruiser? You never forget the first car that ran you over...ah, that's another story, another blog post.
Anyway, I was walking through the parking lot at work earlier this week, and well...the parking lot at work is like the Indy 500 to some of our foreign nationality employees. Sweet Jesus, I can't tell you the number of times I've had to jump - backwards! Back to my story, I was walking through the parking lot, planning my course through the parked cars with my eye on the prize (the door - it was COLD!) and I wasn't paying much attention to what was directly ahead of me so when I turned to navigate the next course, I turned too soon and caught my shin on the tire of the PT which sent me sprawling over the hood, my computer bag bonking my shoulder and my other carry bag (the new Thirty-One Super Organizing Tote in Pick-Me Plaid to be specific) flopping quite close to my head which uh, my face did plant on the windshield. I left a print! Thankfully, I arrive about 8:30AM and most everyone else between 7:30 and 8AM. I'm even more thankful that I did NOT have coffee with me that morning as 1 - it would have been wasted, 2 - It would have been all over the car and my favorite, 3 - I would have been wearing it!
They say it all happens in threes - no more parked cars for me! Wait...6, 6 is divisible by three...so is 9...and 12...and 15...and.....
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
The Wind Against Your Face
“Pain is a pesky part of being human, I've learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can't be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out of our backs, but healing is the closest thing that will give us that wind against our faces.” ― C. JoyBell C.
I have a hundred quotes or sayings about pain, about hurt, about healing. I have experienced so much hurt and disappointment in my life and I'm drawn to the inspiration to pull myself back up and give it another go. Life is kind of like that - a series of knocking downs and getting ups - over and over and over. Some of us have a tougher go. Some, a clear paved path. It's our lot. It's what we chose to learn here before we came. It's God's path for us to learn these lessons.
When I talked with Madame Lemmetakeyourmoney, and I have to take her as a learning experience - I did learn from her, it was supposed to happen - but, I learned about my pain. When she had me list out those 7 negatives in my life, those were also 7 huge life changers for me. Had she not brought my attention to them, I'd still see them as these painful things that happened to me. Sure, they are painful but, I got through them, past them. I've learned from them and I'm trying to improve myself as a result of them. I need to overcome them.
My 7 negatives were all events in my life. Not people. Not what anyone has "done" to me, not how anyone has treated me. Simply events. I thought that interesting, people. People walk in and out of our lives ALL the time. Think about the people you pass on a daily basis. You don't know them, they don't know you. You can't control what people see, or what they think. You often can't change their perception. Some people make up their minds about another person and hell nor high water will change it. I can't make you think well of me. I can only think the best about you. It's my choice to do so and to continue to move forward. I choose to build the great people relationships that I do have and to let go of the ones that are not meant to be. And that's OK.
I can't change these 7 events in my life to improve my future. I can't undo my parents divorce, I can't bring my dad or my sister back from death, I can't fix broken engagements or unbreak some one's heart. I can't bring life to my babies that I lost. But, I can learn. I can have empathy. I can understand. I can be kind. I can realize the pain others do have only from drawing on my own.
Madame Lemmetakeyourmoney and her $375.00 to heal my energy...sure...okay....whatever (and no, I didn't pay here that much). I think of it this way, had I not met her, I wouldn't have understood this pain I have, that I was hanging onto and what it was doing to me. I wouldn't have understood about people - people who make assumptions/judgements about other people rather than simply seeing the good in them. I wouldn't have been able to shut the door to the negative things I don't have room for anymore to open the door to a happier, positive, better life for me and my family.
I give you this. Think about the 7 negatives in your life. Not only as a bad or a negative experience but, think of them as what they taught you, where they led you, or what they brought to you. Are they still negative? I'd love to hear your answer.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Psychic? Medium? Healer? Huh?
I came clean. I told you what I've been up to these past few years. I guess you wonder what that means. Where I'm heading? What's next? Well...I don't know. I'm trying to take as many classes as I can - I said that. I am, taking an advanced mediumship class here in a few weeks. It's not to teach me how to be a medium, it's to help me practice and to understand the messages that come to me.
My goal, eventually, some day, is to be a psychic/medium. I don't know how long it will take before I hang my rainbow palm in the front window and take on paying customers - if I ever will. Right now, I'm content to practice, to work on bettering my spiritual self and just to live happy.
Psychic? Medium? Healer? Huh? WTF are you talking about?
Let me backtrack a minute and define some of this for you.
A Psychic is a person who claims to have an ability to perceive information hidden from the normal senses through extrasensory perception (ESP), or who is said by others to have such abilities.
A Medium(ship) is defined as the practice of certain people—known as mediums—to mediate
communication between spirits of the dead and other human beings.
A Psychic and Medium typically go together. If you're psychic you're typically a medium as well.
And there is a spiritual healer - holds the belief that a healer can channel healing energy into the person seeking help by different methods: hands-on, hands-off, and distant(or absent) where the patient and healer are in different locations. The Reiki I have used is spiritual healing.
I do see a psychic/medium from time to time. She is, uh...affordable, accurate, I know her well and I trust her. She is the first true psychic/medium I have worked with and sadly, as I continue on this path, I will eventually outgrow her. I'm not looking forward to that day but, it is what is supposed to happen. No matter how much I grow, I will always remember when I met her, she looked at me and said "you can do this, you already do this.You make the hair on my arms stand on end!"
Scammers? They're out there. I have been scammed. Quite recently actually. I saw a new reader just last week. She was a little pricey but, ah...it's just one reading. This reading lasted about an hour and she was good. REALLY good! Now, I know my way around the block - I'm not an easy sell. All this woman knew about me when I walked in her door was my first name and my cell phone number. There is no way she could research me. She was able to see things and confirm things that I had not spoken of. I answered her questions but, I did not volunteer her any information. At one point, I even began to cry about some of the painful things she knew/confirmed. She looked at me and said "You have had 2 miscarriages before your son." Yes, I suspected there were more but, 2 that I know for certain. She spoke of friendships which are no more and why. She was pretty good so, when she told me that I carry too much burden for someone my age, and she could help me. She was deeply touched by my pain and I can't even remember what else she said. I agreed to work with her to help heal my "bleeding" spirit and set up my appointment for the next day.
I told my friend who was with me about it, and I said that my homework was to list seven negative events in my life. I remember the look on her face-she was a little stunned and she said "Seven? That's a lot!"
I looked at her and said "But, I already have 6."
I debated continuing on with this. I talked it out with Jeremy, with a friend and thought on it over night. And went back to the woman the next day.
I walked into her "office". It was empty (they were out back smoking when I pulled in) but, I could smell the french fries from the fast food bag on the table. The other table, someone had been working a jigsaw puzzle, so I waited. Finally, she came in and invited me to the other room. She looked at me and said "And you are?" I told her my name. "What are you hear for?"
And I knew.
I thought she was so moved by my pain. I thought she never gave out her personal phone number. I thought she was going to do a special meditation for me that night before? You'd think with all the fluff she could at least remember my name! She repeated a bit of what she had told me the day before about pain and my wounded spirit. She also kept repeating how important it was not to tell anyone of this "work" between her and I. I drove an hour and 15 minutes to get there. I was there for 26 minutes got 3 sticks of incense And she didn't even know my name?
I asked God to protect me from whatever negative energy she would send me. I cancelled the appointment I had scheduled. I am not going back. I'm not angry. I simply learned a valuable lesson. I sat at that table, and I tried hard not to cross my arms (crossing your arms closes you off and essentially tells a psychic/medium that you are closed and not allowing them to read). I didn't want to be obvious that I had locked her out.
As always, if something sounds too good to be true, it most certainly is. Listen to your inner voice, it will never steer you wrong!
Sending you love and light!
My goal, eventually, some day, is to be a psychic/medium. I don't know how long it will take before I hang my rainbow palm in the front window and take on paying customers - if I ever will. Right now, I'm content to practice, to work on bettering my spiritual self and just to live happy.
Psychic? Medium? Healer? Huh? WTF are you talking about?
Let me backtrack a minute and define some of this for you.
A Psychic is a person who claims to have an ability to perceive information hidden from the normal senses through extrasensory perception (ESP), or who is said by others to have such abilities.
A Medium(ship) is defined as the practice of certain people—known as mediums—to mediate
communication between spirits of the dead and other human beings.
A Psychic and Medium typically go together. If you're psychic you're typically a medium as well.
And there is a spiritual healer - holds the belief that a healer can channel healing energy into the person seeking help by different methods: hands-on, hands-off, and distant(or absent) where the patient and healer are in different locations. The Reiki I have used is spiritual healing.
I do see a psychic/medium from time to time. She is, uh...affordable, accurate, I know her well and I trust her. She is the first true psychic/medium I have worked with and sadly, as I continue on this path, I will eventually outgrow her. I'm not looking forward to that day but, it is what is supposed to happen. No matter how much I grow, I will always remember when I met her, she looked at me and said "you can do this, you already do this.You make the hair on my arms stand on end!"
Scammers? They're out there. I have been scammed. Quite recently actually. I saw a new reader just last week. She was a little pricey but, ah...it's just one reading. This reading lasted about an hour and she was good. REALLY good! Now, I know my way around the block - I'm not an easy sell. All this woman knew about me when I walked in her door was my first name and my cell phone number. There is no way she could research me. She was able to see things and confirm things that I had not spoken of. I answered her questions but, I did not volunteer her any information. At one point, I even began to cry about some of the painful things she knew/confirmed. She looked at me and said "You have had 2 miscarriages before your son." Yes, I suspected there were more but, 2 that I know for certain. She spoke of friendships which are no more and why. She was pretty good so, when she told me that I carry too much burden for someone my age, and she could help me. She was deeply touched by my pain and I can't even remember what else she said. I agreed to work with her to help heal my "bleeding" spirit and set up my appointment for the next day.
I told my friend who was with me about it, and I said that my homework was to list seven negative events in my life. I remember the look on her face-she was a little stunned and she said "Seven? That's a lot!"
I looked at her and said "But, I already have 6."
I debated continuing on with this. I talked it out with Jeremy, with a friend and thought on it over night. And went back to the woman the next day.
I walked into her "office". It was empty (they were out back smoking when I pulled in) but, I could smell the french fries from the fast food bag on the table. The other table, someone had been working a jigsaw puzzle, so I waited. Finally, she came in and invited me to the other room. She looked at me and said "And you are?" I told her my name. "What are you hear for?"
And I knew.
I thought she was so moved by my pain. I thought she never gave out her personal phone number. I thought she was going to do a special meditation for me that night before? You'd think with all the fluff she could at least remember my name! She repeated a bit of what she had told me the day before about pain and my wounded spirit. She also kept repeating how important it was not to tell anyone of this "work" between her and I. I drove an hour and 15 minutes to get there. I was there for 26 minutes got 3 sticks of incense And she didn't even know my name?
I asked God to protect me from whatever negative energy she would send me. I cancelled the appointment I had scheduled. I am not going back. I'm not angry. I simply learned a valuable lesson. I sat at that table, and I tried hard not to cross my arms (crossing your arms closes you off and essentially tells a psychic/medium that you are closed and not allowing them to read). I didn't want to be obvious that I had locked her out.
As always, if something sounds too good to be true, it most certainly is. Listen to your inner voice, it will never steer you wrong!
Sending you love and light!
Monday, October 15, 2012
Meet Samantha!
It's time I come clean.
I'm tired of keeping it quiet. I'm tired of it being a secret. I'm tired of holding it in. I'm tired of feeling weird, odd, different, shunned, and about 900 other things.
A few years ago, I started getting terrible headaches. I have a really high pain threshold and these were BAD. I have had to pull over while driving in fear of blacking out. Jacob and I were stranded at the airport one afternoon because I couldn't see to drive us home. I was about to call our local police for help. It was THAT bad. I'm not one for Doctors. I don't believe they know everything. Sadly, it is hard to find a good one to care for you and not your bank account. I don't care what oath they take!
I began searching some alternate healing methods for my headaches. I seem to recall telling you about Reiki before so, I am not going into detail again but, I did give you a link if you need a refresher. In some of my sessions, I began to feel some relief from the pressure in my head. At one point, the practitioner had asked me if I ever thought I could be psychic. I said, "You know what? It's possible."
I have always had an inner voice, a LARGE conscience, a different drive than others. I have always been able to sort people out, see to their core. But, I never paid much (any) attention to it. Over the last 2 or 3 years, I have been taking any class I can on psychic ability, reading most every book recommended to me about it and praying more than you can ever imagine about what to do with this gift. What it is. How it got here. Echo Bodine, James VanPraagh, are amazing! I have personally worked with Echo and met (only met - not like sat and had a chat over coffee) James just this fall. Echo helped me so much. To see that I wasn't a freak. To know that this is Godly and not Satanic! I highly recommend her books! She is a great teacher!
First of all before you even think it, my faith in God is HUGE. He is bigger and more encompassing than ever. I have grown spiritually in ways that I could never explain to you. I pray harder. I pray longer. I pray more often than I ever have in all of my life. Sometimes, I speak to God as if he were my own dad sitting next to me. I am back in church,a Lutheran church. I'm not happy with this church. This service is actually too contemporary. I prefer a more traditional service. I believe there is more to church, to faith, than what it teaches but, I do like the people. I'm happier than I've been in a very long time.I have a deeper understanding of Heaven and Earth. I have a deeper understanding of my place in it. It is amazing.
I can't say this enough. My faith is STRONG. I am still just as Lutheran - more so than ever!
The only difference is, I meditate more often. I pray more often. And well, my dead brother-in-law stops in for a visit every now and again as does my dear old dad - he always stinks up my house with the smell of gun oil. If you have ever smelled gun oil, you know there is no other smell like it. There is no substitute for it or anything to explain it away! My right arm will begin to shake when a spirit stops by. It doesn't happen every day but, it does happen. I get very strong feelings about people, about places, about things or objects. I do not see spirits though sometimes, they do speak to me. God is on my side. He always protects me.
That said, let's see, I'm about 10 for 12 on choosing the sex of unborn babies. I may tell you of a health issue but, that doesn't mean it's going to happen and you should run to your doctor. I'll tell you if you do need to. This often happens to me when writing emails or chatting of the computer. I have one person that I often tell to drink more water (she doesn't listen and her kidneys are going to kick her ass!). I don't know when you're going to die, when I'm going to die, or when her kidneys are going to kick her ass. I may tell you I will be somewhere and as I'm getting ready, I'll get a clear message telling me to stay home. I may cancel a trip because it's not the right time. Not in fear of something happening but, it's just not the time or the place for me to be. And it gets frustrating. And it makes me nuts. Once, I had to - needed to go shoe shopping for Jacob and they kept telling me no, no, no, no. I finally gave in and I didn't go. But, sheesh! Talk about annoying!
I don't believe in coincidences. I believe that is God sending us our lessons, our affirmations, our directions. I believe we're here to learn, to teach not to simply just be. And I'm not going to "convert" you to anything, or sell you anything or read you. That's not how it works. I can't read your mind...though there are some I might want to...hmmm?
I've come to a point in life where this girft is so amazing to me. To be happening to me. It's different and it's a part of me. I can't turn it off. I can't make it go away. I tried. I've tried many times. I can say I haven't had headaches like those first ones since I've opened up spiritually. I hope they don't come back! Oh, they were awful!
I'm not any different than you. You have the same ability as I. You can believe in God. You can pray. You have an inner voice that leads you as well. You can listen to it. Or not. You can continue to be my friend, or not. The choice is yours.
Sending you Light and Love!
I'm tired of keeping it quiet. I'm tired of it being a secret. I'm tired of holding it in. I'm tired of feeling weird, odd, different, shunned, and about 900 other things.
A few years ago, I started getting terrible headaches. I have a really high pain threshold and these were BAD. I have had to pull over while driving in fear of blacking out. Jacob and I were stranded at the airport one afternoon because I couldn't see to drive us home. I was about to call our local police for help. It was THAT bad. I'm not one for Doctors. I don't believe they know everything. Sadly, it is hard to find a good one to care for you and not your bank account. I don't care what oath they take!
I began searching some alternate healing methods for my headaches. I seem to recall telling you about Reiki before so, I am not going into detail again but, I did give you a link if you need a refresher. In some of my sessions, I began to feel some relief from the pressure in my head. At one point, the practitioner had asked me if I ever thought I could be psychic. I said, "You know what? It's possible."
I have always had an inner voice, a LARGE conscience, a different drive than others. I have always been able to sort people out, see to their core. But, I never paid much (any) attention to it. Over the last 2 or 3 years, I have been taking any class I can on psychic ability, reading most every book recommended to me about it and praying more than you can ever imagine about what to do with this gift. What it is. How it got here. Echo Bodine, James VanPraagh, are amazing! I have personally worked with Echo and met (only met - not like sat and had a chat over coffee) James just this fall. Echo helped me so much. To see that I wasn't a freak. To know that this is Godly and not Satanic! I highly recommend her books! She is a great teacher!
First of all before you even think it, my faith in God is HUGE. He is bigger and more encompassing than ever. I have grown spiritually in ways that I could never explain to you. I pray harder. I pray longer. I pray more often than I ever have in all of my life. Sometimes, I speak to God as if he were my own dad sitting next to me. I am back in church,a Lutheran church. I'm not happy with this church. This service is actually too contemporary. I prefer a more traditional service. I believe there is more to church, to faith, than what it teaches but, I do like the people. I'm happier than I've been in a very long time.I have a deeper understanding of Heaven and Earth. I have a deeper understanding of my place in it. It is amazing.
I can't say this enough. My faith is STRONG. I am still just as Lutheran - more so than ever!
The only difference is, I meditate more often. I pray more often. And well, my dead brother-in-law stops in for a visit every now and again as does my dear old dad - he always stinks up my house with the smell of gun oil. If you have ever smelled gun oil, you know there is no other smell like it. There is no substitute for it or anything to explain it away! My right arm will begin to shake when a spirit stops by. It doesn't happen every day but, it does happen. I get very strong feelings about people, about places, about things or objects. I do not see spirits though sometimes, they do speak to me. God is on my side. He always protects me.
That said, let's see, I'm about 10 for 12 on choosing the sex of unborn babies. I may tell you of a health issue but, that doesn't mean it's going to happen and you should run to your doctor. I'll tell you if you do need to. This often happens to me when writing emails or chatting of the computer. I have one person that I often tell to drink more water (she doesn't listen and her kidneys are going to kick her ass!). I don't know when you're going to die, when I'm going to die, or when her kidneys are going to kick her ass. I may tell you I will be somewhere and as I'm getting ready, I'll get a clear message telling me to stay home. I may cancel a trip because it's not the right time. Not in fear of something happening but, it's just not the time or the place for me to be. And it gets frustrating. And it makes me nuts. Once, I had to - needed to go shoe shopping for Jacob and they kept telling me no, no, no, no. I finally gave in and I didn't go. But, sheesh! Talk about annoying!
I don't believe in coincidences. I believe that is God sending us our lessons, our affirmations, our directions. I believe we're here to learn, to teach not to simply just be. And I'm not going to "convert" you to anything, or sell you anything or read you. That's not how it works. I can't read your mind...though there are some I might want to...hmmm?
I've come to a point in life where this girft is so amazing to me. To be happening to me. It's different and it's a part of me. I can't turn it off. I can't make it go away. I tried. I've tried many times. I can say I haven't had headaches like those first ones since I've opened up spiritually. I hope they don't come back! Oh, they were awful!
I'm not any different than you. You have the same ability as I. You can believe in God. You can pray. You have an inner voice that leads you as well. You can listen to it. Or not. You can continue to be my friend, or not. The choice is yours.
Sending you Light and Love!
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Life is an Echo
I have so much to say lately. I feel like a social media lunatic. Tweet, status update, blog post, tweet, status update, blog post and I can't seem to stop.
I talked a little yesterday about where I want to move and go, I talked about eliminating the negatives in my life. And well, the above photo/quote popped up on my Facebook news feed yesterday afternoon. I don't believe in coincidence. I believe those things are God's way of saying "Here I am, pay attention to me!" and when he speaks, I listen.
I have worked really hard this last year to put a lot behind me. The things we all have, family issues, money issues, parenting issues, marriage issues, friend issues - whatever - just that junk we all have. I also noticed earlier this fall that I've started having panic/anxiety attacks when dealing with some people/situations. I've also realized that someone I thought needed and appreciated my help, was completely and totally taking advantage of me and my generosity. I have since closed my wallet and my mouth. I am learning to recognize these things faster/better/sooner and I'm not punishing anyone. I'm simply moving on. I have to for my health and my sanity.
I've spent a lot of time the past 10 years, being angry. There is nothing beautiful in being angry. There is no kindness in anger. There is no peace in anger. There is no joy in anger. There is no laughter in anger. I don't want to be angry. I am thankful for my husband and my child, my home, my job, my family and friends and well, I'd rather count my blessings - the things that truly matter to me, than to be angry with what is leftover.
My friend Bonnie warned me that my circle was going to get even smaller this year and it has - yet it has grown. I look at it as going back to basics. I'm trying to get to the core. To the people who have always been honest and true to me. To the people who help me build and grow myself. To the people who strengthen, nurture, and truly love me. To the people who need this in return, and will accept it from me. To the people who want to be with me for those things and not the material things they can take, trick, or connive from me. I've connected with some new people, and I'm learning to build and grow again.
I'm sending out love, light, positive thoughts and energies. I'm sending goodness and grace. Because I want those things to come back to me. I ask God to help these people who have taken advantage of me, to heal their hearts as well, because I want that for them and I want that for me.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Happy New Year!
Most people wait until The New Year to look back, to reflect on the past year. This year, I've been so looking forward to October 1 for my calming down, my new beginning. Now that it's finally here, I can't help but look back on this past year to see how far I've come.
I have a new boss this year. I was with the old one for almost 10 years. Though I like him, my job responsibilities had grown so far away from him that I almost felt like his lack of understanding of my systems etc. were holding me back. No fault of his nor mine. He manages component qualifications not financials. I am happy where I am. My new boss is certainly a different personality and I am interested to see what our 2nd year brings.
Jeremy and I both have had some changes at work this year. I've worked more overtime than ever, spent more money than ever and well, Jeremy's had some new experiences at work as well. I'm not going to go into details here because I don't know if I can...but, let's just say we're on the other side now, waiting for new insurance to kick in, and a change in paydays, 401K, etc. It's been a trying few months but, we're all ok!
This also marks 1 year since I broke off the relationship with my mother. Some say 'how could you do that?, She's your mother." and on and on. I've heard them all. I do love my mother. I really do. I miss the person she once was. I am proud of the values she gave me, the lessons she taught me. I'm proud of the person she shaped me into. I am not angry with my mother. I am sad for her. I am sad that she would rather wallow in self pity than enjoy her family, her grandchildren. I'm sad she'd rather count her pennies, than give anything enjoyable to herself. I'm sad that she would rather count what she's given away than count the gifts she's been been blessed with. I'm sad that she prefers to count her friends than be a friend. I'm sad that she can only see the pain in her past, rather than the joy in her future.
I'm looking back at myself this last year. I've learned so much about myself about where I want to go what I want to do. I have met some exceptional people. I had the opportunity to meet and study with psychic/medium/healer Echo Bodine who helped to restore my faith in God. Who taught me to listen to that "Still Small Voice" within me and my God will lead me everywhere that I need to go. I also had (and narrowly missed) the opportunity to meet and attend "An Evening of Spirit" with James VanPraagh. Through these people, and of course some cleaning and clearing of some not so positive people from my life, I've learned more and more who I want to be. And I want to be happier, healthier, more fun. I want to laugh more and enjoy my life. I want to have great friends that I love - that love me for me and all the dumb shit I do. I want to laugh.
Most of all, when I turn 80, can't walk and barely talk, I want to be able to look back at myself and I want to smile. I want to remember laughter and happiness. I want to remember loving and being loved. I want to remember the blessings I've been given. And I hope to be a counted blessing.
I wish for all of you to take some time and (sorry Kate - I'm saying it again) just breathe. Think about the things that really matter to you. Think about what is truly important. Think about the things you say or do and the memories they make. Do you have room to improve?
It hasn't been an easy year, it's been a learning year. It's been a purging year. It's been a cleansing year. I'm ready to move forward to a new year. I'm ready to give this new year the best that I've got, and I hope that is what it gives back to me.
Wishing you all love and light. Happy New Year!
I have a new boss this year. I was with the old one for almost 10 years. Though I like him, my job responsibilities had grown so far away from him that I almost felt like his lack of understanding of my systems etc. were holding me back. No fault of his nor mine. He manages component qualifications not financials. I am happy where I am. My new boss is certainly a different personality and I am interested to see what our 2nd year brings.
Jeremy and I both have had some changes at work this year. I've worked more overtime than ever, spent more money than ever and well, Jeremy's had some new experiences at work as well. I'm not going to go into details here because I don't know if I can...but, let's just say we're on the other side now, waiting for new insurance to kick in, and a change in paydays, 401K, etc. It's been a trying few months but, we're all ok!
This also marks 1 year since I broke off the relationship with my mother. Some say 'how could you do that?, She's your mother." and on and on. I've heard them all. I do love my mother. I really do. I miss the person she once was. I am proud of the values she gave me, the lessons she taught me. I'm proud of the person she shaped me into. I am not angry with my mother. I am sad for her. I am sad that she would rather wallow in self pity than enjoy her family, her grandchildren. I'm sad she'd rather count her pennies, than give anything enjoyable to herself. I'm sad that she would rather count what she's given away than count the gifts she's been been blessed with. I'm sad that she prefers to count her friends than be a friend. I'm sad that she can only see the pain in her past, rather than the joy in her future.
I'm looking back at myself this last year. I've learned so much about myself about where I want to go what I want to do. I have met some exceptional people. I had the opportunity to meet and study with psychic/medium/healer Echo Bodine who helped to restore my faith in God. Who taught me to listen to that "Still Small Voice" within me and my God will lead me everywhere that I need to go. I also had (and narrowly missed) the opportunity to meet and attend "An Evening of Spirit" with James VanPraagh. Through these people, and of course some cleaning and clearing of some not so positive people from my life, I've learned more and more who I want to be. And I want to be happier, healthier, more fun. I want to laugh more and enjoy my life. I want to have great friends that I love - that love me for me and all the dumb shit I do. I want to laugh.
Most of all, when I turn 80, can't walk and barely talk, I want to be able to look back at myself and I want to smile. I want to remember laughter and happiness. I want to remember loving and being loved. I want to remember the blessings I've been given. And I hope to be a counted blessing.
I wish for all of you to take some time and (sorry Kate - I'm saying it again) just breathe. Think about the things that really matter to you. Think about what is truly important. Think about the things you say or do and the memories they make. Do you have room to improve?
It hasn't been an easy year, it's been a learning year. It's been a purging year. It's been a cleansing year. I'm ready to move forward to a new year. I'm ready to give this new year the best that I've got, and I hope that is what it gives back to me.
Wishing you all love and light. Happy New Year!
Monday, September 17, 2012
Different
I think a lot. I think often. I think about a variety of things. I think about the same things. I think about life. I think about death. I think about living. I think about dying. I think about everything in between. I'm just a thinker.
I think about what my parents taught me, maybe I'm not the result they intended, maybe what I learned wasn't what was meant to be taught but, it certainly is the result.
My parents taught me to think. To think for myself. To form my own opinions. To stand up for myself, even if it means standing alone.
My parents taught me to make an educated decision - to weigh one side against the other, to look at the outcome and to choose what I feel is best. My parents taught me to find the definition and do the research, to educate myself.
My parents taught me to take care of myself, my things, to be responsible for my things, things belonging to others, my words, my actions, my reactions.
My parents took me to church to learn about God and Jesus, and my faith. My parents understood when I lost my faith and they were glad when I found it but, they never once pushed it.
My parents taught me consequences, respect, to listen to my inner voice, and to follow my conscience.
My parents taught me to speak up when I'm wrong, when I've made a mistake. Yet, they were there to help me fix it.
My parents were tough.
My parents weren't mushy, weren't huggy, weren't cuddly, hell - my mother is barely even friendly but, I can't blame my parents for what may be wrong with me or my life. My parents didn't teach me to blame someone else. I knew it was all on me.
My parents taught me to get my ass up off from the ground, dust myself off and go again - only this time, think about where it is I'm going first.
My parents made me work. I helped with laundry, cooking, cleaning, yard work, taking out the trash. As a teenage girl I whined about it all but, I never got a free pass.
I'm different. I'm a thinker. I want my kid to be a thinker. I want him to learn how to dust himself off and go at it again. I want him to be responsible, respectful, accountable, honorable, knowledgeable. I want him to be strong, determined, and relentless. I want his self esteem and his integrity to be high. I want him to know he is loved more than anything.
I want him to be different. I want him to think!
I think about what my parents taught me, maybe I'm not the result they intended, maybe what I learned wasn't what was meant to be taught but, it certainly is the result.
My parents taught me to think. To think for myself. To form my own opinions. To stand up for myself, even if it means standing alone.
My parents taught me to make an educated decision - to weigh one side against the other, to look at the outcome and to choose what I feel is best. My parents taught me to find the definition and do the research, to educate myself.
My parents taught me to take care of myself, my things, to be responsible for my things, things belonging to others, my words, my actions, my reactions.
My parents took me to church to learn about God and Jesus, and my faith. My parents understood when I lost my faith and they were glad when I found it but, they never once pushed it.
My parents taught me consequences, respect, to listen to my inner voice, and to follow my conscience.
My parents taught me to speak up when I'm wrong, when I've made a mistake. Yet, they were there to help me fix it.
My parents were tough.
My parents weren't mushy, weren't huggy, weren't cuddly, hell - my mother is barely even friendly but, I can't blame my parents for what may be wrong with me or my life. My parents didn't teach me to blame someone else. I knew it was all on me.
My parents taught me to get my ass up off from the ground, dust myself off and go again - only this time, think about where it is I'm going first.
My parents made me work. I helped with laundry, cooking, cleaning, yard work, taking out the trash. As a teenage girl I whined about it all but, I never got a free pass.
I'm different. I'm a thinker. I want my kid to be a thinker. I want him to learn how to dust himself off and go at it again. I want him to be responsible, respectful, accountable, honorable, knowledgeable. I want him to be strong, determined, and relentless. I want his self esteem and his integrity to be high. I want him to know he is loved more than anything.
I want him to be different. I want him to think!
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Thoughtfulness
I was driving to work this morning thinking about a Facebook post a friend had written earlier(at one time, I was very, very close to this family) and her family who lost two uncles, had a mother diagnosed with cancer and lost that mother all within about the span of 8 weeks. In this post, she was thanking everyone for their kindness, friendship, etc. Which got me thinking about thoughtfulness. All these people surrounded this family. All these people stepped in. It amazed me.
I remember when my sister was killed, our counter tops were jam packed with food. Casseroles, cakes, lasagnas, salads, cookies - so much food. People just kept coming and coming. We even had to freeze some of it - there was so much! I'll always remember that. I always wanted to help. I am now signed up with our church to help with funeral dinners. I know at least one of my sisters is too. I don't remember my mom ever doing that. I don't remember her ever taking a dish to someone.
I was to bring cookies for a school meeting once. My class was responsible for the refreshments. I ran home and told my mom, I was so excited. I asked and asked to bake cookies to take. I wanted to take something special, something homemade. She sent me to school that night with two packages of generic, white, duplex creme cookies. I was heartbroken and she never said a word. Never acknowledged my feelings, explained - nothing!
I need to go shopping this week for a friend who just had a baby. My cousin's daughter is having a baby, I was invited to the shower but, I can't go - I'll send her a gift in the mail. My mom's response would be, "What did she invite me for? Oh, for the gift!" I do not know her. It doesn't matter.
I had wanted to bake cookies for a boyfriend once, he was in the hospital after a car accident, and she said to me "You never bake ME cookies! I'm good enough to buy all the ingredients - you use my sugar, my flour...". I didn't take him cookies.
As you can see, I wasn't taught to be thoughtful. To think of others before myself. To do for someone else just out of the goodness of my heart. I didn't have a good example to follow. I, of course want better for Jacob. I think it comes natural for kids to want that too - I also think as mothers it is up to us to encourage or to nurture them.
In this almost a year without my mother in my life. I have learned more about the kind of person I want to be. I want to be more generous with my time, my talents. I want to share with my church and be of some help to a grieving family. I want to welcome new babies to the family and my friends - they're only that little once. I want to take up collections for families/children in need. I want to teach my son to give rather than to get. I want him to be thoughtful. I want him to grow in this, maybe I have an extra blessing in doing this together with him, in learning it at the same time. All I can do is the best I can do.
**It was never my intent to bash or berate my mother. I don't feel that I have, you may feel otherwise and well, that's okay. There are many reasons I have chosen not to maintain a relationship with her. You can think that I am cruel or she is a saint. I do not care. I will say this - she is who she is and I am who I am, had she been someone else, I wouldn't be me! I am always thankful to her for choosing to give me life and that will never change. As for the rest is and always will be between me and Thee.
I remember when my sister was killed, our counter tops were jam packed with food. Casseroles, cakes, lasagnas, salads, cookies - so much food. People just kept coming and coming. We even had to freeze some of it - there was so much! I'll always remember that. I always wanted to help. I am now signed up with our church to help with funeral dinners. I know at least one of my sisters is too. I don't remember my mom ever doing that. I don't remember her ever taking a dish to someone.
I was to bring cookies for a school meeting once. My class was responsible for the refreshments. I ran home and told my mom, I was so excited. I asked and asked to bake cookies to take. I wanted to take something special, something homemade. She sent me to school that night with two packages of generic, white, duplex creme cookies. I was heartbroken and she never said a word. Never acknowledged my feelings, explained - nothing!
I need to go shopping this week for a friend who just had a baby. My cousin's daughter is having a baby, I was invited to the shower but, I can't go - I'll send her a gift in the mail. My mom's response would be, "What did she invite me for? Oh, for the gift!" I do not know her. It doesn't matter.
I had wanted to bake cookies for a boyfriend once, he was in the hospital after a car accident, and she said to me "You never bake ME cookies! I'm good enough to buy all the ingredients - you use my sugar, my flour...". I didn't take him cookies.
As you can see, I wasn't taught to be thoughtful. To think of others before myself. To do for someone else just out of the goodness of my heart. I didn't have a good example to follow. I, of course want better for Jacob. I think it comes natural for kids to want that too - I also think as mothers it is up to us to encourage or to nurture them.
In this almost a year without my mother in my life. I have learned more about the kind of person I want to be. I want to be more generous with my time, my talents. I want to share with my church and be of some help to a grieving family. I want to welcome new babies to the family and my friends - they're only that little once. I want to take up collections for families/children in need. I want to teach my son to give rather than to get. I want him to be thoughtful. I want him to grow in this, maybe I have an extra blessing in doing this together with him, in learning it at the same time. All I can do is the best I can do.
**It was never my intent to bash or berate my mother. I don't feel that I have, you may feel otherwise and well, that's okay. There are many reasons I have chosen not to maintain a relationship with her. You can think that I am cruel or she is a saint. I do not care. I will say this - she is who she is and I am who I am, had she been someone else, I wouldn't be me! I am always thankful to her for choosing to give me life and that will never change. As for the rest is and always will be between me and Thee.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Likes/Dislikes: I'm Pushing Pause
The intent when I started this was 30 days of continuous posting and I'm a few days behind. I had planned to make them up this morning but, after this morning my heart isn't into writing today.
Some of you may know that Jeremy has been having some trouble with his hip and his leg. He'd been in a fair amount of pain and was on medication for that pain - which made him loopy and which has now subsided. He was seeing a Dr. and through X-rays, we did find that the ball joints in his hips are more oval as opposed to round, the Dr. didn't know where to go with results of the x-ray - she mentioned hip replacement, she mentioned a surgery to round out the ball joints. She said she really didn't know and referred Jeremy to an Orthopaedist. Now Jeremy is scheduled for an MRI this week and to see the new Dr. after that.
What I didn't know until this morning is he's also been experiencing some other - call them symptoms, I guess though I don't know of what but, we're hoping between the chiropractor, maybe some Reiki and his Doctors, we're hoping to find some relief for him until we can get some answers from the Orthopaedist as to what is causing the numbness, the weakness, and the instability of his leg. He didn't tell me until now because he didn't want me to worry or be afraid. What he didn't know, is that I already knew there was more going on than what he was telling me, I was already worried and I was already scared.
My Dad had MS - Multiple Sclerosis all of my life. I never knew the man he was before that crippling disease took him over. Of course, my worst fear is being diagnosed myself or having my husband diagnosed or my Jacob. It's a fear I've carried in my back pocket all of my life. It's a fear I cannot shake. My faith is stronger than ever, and I know my Lord would never give me a bourden that I cannot carry. He knows I'm strong enough. He knows I can. He knows I don't want to carry this. He knows I already do. And I know that He carries me.
Of course, we're both scared. We don't know what is happening or why. If this is something more serious or a nothing really. We don't know how or if it will change anything, or what it will happen with his job, my job, money, if he'll have to have surgery, or about a thousand other questions. We just don't know. Like most things, the not knowing is always the worst.
In the meantime, we will be watching what we eat, trying to exercise/get out and move more in order to lose a little weight - take some stress off of our joints. I have my jobs both here, and at home. I have to make sure my child isn't scared, reassure and support my husband...and myself. Please, ask God to watch over us, to strengthen us, to walk us through this.
I'll be back to finish my Likes/Dislikes when my load is a little lighter and I'm feeling creative again.
Some of you may know that Jeremy has been having some trouble with his hip and his leg. He'd been in a fair amount of pain and was on medication for that pain - which made him loopy and which has now subsided. He was seeing a Dr. and through X-rays, we did find that the ball joints in his hips are more oval as opposed to round, the Dr. didn't know where to go with results of the x-ray - she mentioned hip replacement, she mentioned a surgery to round out the ball joints. She said she really didn't know and referred Jeremy to an Orthopaedist. Now Jeremy is scheduled for an MRI this week and to see the new Dr. after that.
What I didn't know until this morning is he's also been experiencing some other - call them symptoms, I guess though I don't know of what but, we're hoping between the chiropractor, maybe some Reiki and his Doctors, we're hoping to find some relief for him until we can get some answers from the Orthopaedist as to what is causing the numbness, the weakness, and the instability of his leg. He didn't tell me until now because he didn't want me to worry or be afraid. What he didn't know, is that I already knew there was more going on than what he was telling me, I was already worried and I was already scared.
My Dad had MS - Multiple Sclerosis all of my life. I never knew the man he was before that crippling disease took him over. Of course, my worst fear is being diagnosed myself or having my husband diagnosed or my Jacob. It's a fear I've carried in my back pocket all of my life. It's a fear I cannot shake. My faith is stronger than ever, and I know my Lord would never give me a bourden that I cannot carry. He knows I'm strong enough. He knows I can. He knows I don't want to carry this. He knows I already do. And I know that He carries me.
Of course, we're both scared. We don't know what is happening or why. If this is something more serious or a nothing really. We don't know how or if it will change anything, or what it will happen with his job, my job, money, if he'll have to have surgery, or about a thousand other questions. We just don't know. Like most things, the not knowing is always the worst.
In the meantime, we will be watching what we eat, trying to exercise/get out and move more in order to lose a little weight - take some stress off of our joints. I have my jobs both here, and at home. I have to make sure my child isn't scared, reassure and support my husband...and myself. Please, ask God to watch over us, to strengthen us, to walk us through this.
I'll be back to finish my Likes/Dislikes when my load is a little lighter and I'm feeling creative again.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Dislike: Prepackaged frozen meals/foods
I talk about growing up at home and how things were done but, in all this time I'm not sure if it was my mom's doing or my sister's. I was on the tail end of 6 kids - 9 years between me and the next one up. My eldest sister graduated high school just a few weeks before I was born. Going forward here, since I'm not sure who did what, I'm going to use the collective "We" as in our family.
Preparing meals for a family of 8 could never have been an easy task. Planning, shopping, cooking, and cleaning up. I don't remember many occasions other than holidays when all 8 of us sat down together for a meal after all, I was only 8 years old when my family began to unravel. We didn't have a ton of money. My parents both worked and well, there were 6 of us kids to feed. My dad hunted and he fished to supplement the meat we bought. We had casseroles and dishes that could stretch the dollars just a little bit further. We canned tomatoes, peaches, and whatever else we could to save what we could.
We didn't use instant potatoes, frozen lasagna, pre-pressed hamburger patties, or frozen boneless chicken breasts in our meals. If we had Swiss Steak, we made Swiss Steak in the crock pot from the real meat in our freezer, we didn't open a box from the freezer and bake one up. On occasion, we did have a box of fried chicken or some fish sticks, even a TV dinner (in the foil tray - remember those?) once in awhile. We did have store bought french fries or tater tots and I don't even remember frozen veggies, we typically had canned.
We had sandwich nights, and leftover nights. Sandwich night was my favorite. It was generally Friday night and we'd put out bread, cheese, lunch meat, and all the condiments out on the dining room table and we could make whatever sandwich we wanted - but, we had to eat it! We were allowed to have potato chips that night! And Kool-Aid! I always had to have milk with my meal so, anything else was a real treat! Sandwich night was also popcorn night! David and Valerie would get out the popcorn popper, it looked like a big metal teapot that plugged into the wall. Val would pour the oil in and my job was to carefully pour in the popcorn David had measured out for me. It was really important not to spill it! We'd wait for it to pop and pour it into a big, white plastic bowl for my dad, and us kids got the yellow cereal bowls. What I'd give to share popcorn with my sister and brother like that again!
As I've grown up and made my own family, I've followed a lot of what we did back home. I rarely purchase prepackaged frozen meals. I don't like the taste. I use frozen vegetables or fresh as often as I can. I still make Swiss Steak in the crock pot but, I do use boneless chicken breasts - only in casseroles though! I make my own hamburger patties from fresh beef and my lasagna from scratch. And we sometimes make popcorn with the air popper. Jacob now has the 'very important' job of pouring in the popcorn. Yes, of course we have Kool-aid! But, the best part is that I now have the same big, white plastic bowl my dad always used! I think of my family every time.
**I'm thinking about frozen lasagna - could you imagine how many boxes you would have to buy to feed a family of 8? And the cost per box? Not to mention the amount of sodium in each! And now you see why we made rather than bought! I don't know about you but, I'll take cheesy. ooey, gooey homemade lasagna over frozen cardboard, preprocessed cheese food, tastes like a box lasagna any day!
Preparing meals for a family of 8 could never have been an easy task. Planning, shopping, cooking, and cleaning up. I don't remember many occasions other than holidays when all 8 of us sat down together for a meal after all, I was only 8 years old when my family began to unravel. We didn't have a ton of money. My parents both worked and well, there were 6 of us kids to feed. My dad hunted and he fished to supplement the meat we bought. We had casseroles and dishes that could stretch the dollars just a little bit further. We canned tomatoes, peaches, and whatever else we could to save what we could.
We didn't use instant potatoes, frozen lasagna, pre-pressed hamburger patties, or frozen boneless chicken breasts in our meals. If we had Swiss Steak, we made Swiss Steak in the crock pot from the real meat in our freezer, we didn't open a box from the freezer and bake one up. On occasion, we did have a box of fried chicken or some fish sticks, even a TV dinner (in the foil tray - remember those?) once in awhile. We did have store bought french fries or tater tots and I don't even remember frozen veggies, we typically had canned.
We had sandwich nights, and leftover nights. Sandwich night was my favorite. It was generally Friday night and we'd put out bread, cheese, lunch meat, and all the condiments out on the dining room table and we could make whatever sandwich we wanted - but, we had to eat it! We were allowed to have potato chips that night! And Kool-Aid! I always had to have milk with my meal so, anything else was a real treat! Sandwich night was also popcorn night! David and Valerie would get out the popcorn popper, it looked like a big metal teapot that plugged into the wall. Val would pour the oil in and my job was to carefully pour in the popcorn David had measured out for me. It was really important not to spill it! We'd wait for it to pop and pour it into a big, white plastic bowl for my dad, and us kids got the yellow cereal bowls. What I'd give to share popcorn with my sister and brother like that again!
As I've grown up and made my own family, I've followed a lot of what we did back home. I rarely purchase prepackaged frozen meals. I don't like the taste. I use frozen vegetables or fresh as often as I can. I still make Swiss Steak in the crock pot but, I do use boneless chicken breasts - only in casseroles though! I make my own hamburger patties from fresh beef and my lasagna from scratch. And we sometimes make popcorn with the air popper. Jacob now has the 'very important' job of pouring in the popcorn. Yes, of course we have Kool-aid! But, the best part is that I now have the same big, white plastic bowl my dad always used! I think of my family every time.
**I'm thinking about frozen lasagna - could you imagine how many boxes you would have to buy to feed a family of 8? And the cost per box? Not to mention the amount of sodium in each! And now you see why we made rather than bought! I don't know about you but, I'll take cheesy. ooey, gooey homemade lasagna over frozen cardboard, preprocessed cheese food, tastes like a box lasagna any day!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Likes: Goulash
I'm realizing this list is quite strange. I assure you it will get worse!
Goulash is one of my all time favorites. Often made in the fall/winter in a big, old, black speckled pot handed down from my mother a few moons ago. One of the things I like best, this recipe is just in my head. I don't have to look it up or write a list to buy the stuff for it. I just know. We've changed it a bit from how my mom made it, we added some from how Jeremy's mom made it and a few other additions to make it our own.
I've heard it called so many things but, this is my family's version of Goulash.
I brown about 1 & 1/2 lbs. ground beef with a diced onion (2 small or one med), and some minced garlic (I keep a jar in the fridge) and drain off the grease.
While my burger is cooking/draining, and my box of elbow macaroni is boiling in salted water, I get out mom's big pot and add, 1 lg. can tomato juice (or Vegetable Juice), 2 large (or 4 small) cans of sliced stewed tomatoes, 2 cans sliced mushrooms drained, and 1 or 2 cans whole kernel corn drained. And I let that simmer with a few turns of the pepper grinder, while I'm waiting for the pasta.
Add the ground beef to the pot when it's grease free. Then add the pasta (after draining, of course) and stir with the giant wooden spoon. I generally buy 2 tomato juices so I can add more as the pasta soaks it up. I add the 2nd can/bottle at this point.
And now for the trick - as my mom used to say, Add just enough sugar to take out the bitterness from all those tomatoes. Generally about 1/4 cup. Stir it again.
Jeremy and I both love this and it's one thing I don't mind eating for lunch and for dinner, yet I do get to a point where I've had enough but, then I'm sad if Jeremy ate the last bowl and didn't save any for me! :(
**This 'recipe' is not for a dutch oven sized pot, it's for more like a soup pot. If using a shiny metal soup pot, do NOT store this Goulash in that pot - transfer to plastic or glassware. The acidity of the tomatoes will pit your pot! It has happened to me! Put a hole right through my pot! I use a black enamelware pot which has been cooking/storing Goulash for decades!
Goulash is one of my all time favorites. Often made in the fall/winter in a big, old, black speckled pot handed down from my mother a few moons ago. One of the things I like best, this recipe is just in my head. I don't have to look it up or write a list to buy the stuff for it. I just know. We've changed it a bit from how my mom made it, we added some from how Jeremy's mom made it and a few other additions to make it our own.
I've heard it called so many things but, this is my family's version of Goulash.
I brown about 1 & 1/2 lbs. ground beef with a diced onion (2 small or one med), and some minced garlic (I keep a jar in the fridge) and drain off the grease.
While my burger is cooking/draining, and my box of elbow macaroni is boiling in salted water, I get out mom's big pot and add, 1 lg. can tomato juice (or Vegetable Juice), 2 large (or 4 small) cans of sliced stewed tomatoes, 2 cans sliced mushrooms drained, and 1 or 2 cans whole kernel corn drained. And I let that simmer with a few turns of the pepper grinder, while I'm waiting for the pasta.
Add the ground beef to the pot when it's grease free. Then add the pasta (after draining, of course) and stir with the giant wooden spoon. I generally buy 2 tomato juices so I can add more as the pasta soaks it up. I add the 2nd can/bottle at this point.
And now for the trick - as my mom used to say, Add just enough sugar to take out the bitterness from all those tomatoes. Generally about 1/4 cup. Stir it again.
Jeremy and I both love this and it's one thing I don't mind eating for lunch and for dinner, yet I do get to a point where I've had enough but, then I'm sad if Jeremy ate the last bowl and didn't save any for me! :(
**This 'recipe' is not for a dutch oven sized pot, it's for more like a soup pot. If using a shiny metal soup pot, do NOT store this Goulash in that pot - transfer to plastic or glassware. The acidity of the tomatoes will pit your pot! It has happened to me! Put a hole right through my pot! I use a black enamelware pot which has been cooking/storing Goulash for decades!
Monday, June 4, 2012
Dislike: Liver
I am a believer in 'Try it, you might like it." I believe that our tastes change as we get older. There are a few foods I didn't like as a child that I do like now however, liver is NOT one of them!
I seem to recall our family of 8 was divided when it comes to liver. Mom = yes, Cindy = yes, Karen = I'm not sure, Gloria = yes, Valerie = yes, David = NO (I had to call and check), and Dad & I = No. I don't remember my mom cooking it often. I do know she never forced me to eat it - she couldn't because Dad didn't like it - and my dad ate all kinds of crazy shit! If Dad wasn't eating it - it was bad and I wasn't eating it either!
I did try it a few times as a kid. Each time, was just as bad as the first time!
I was invited to a friend's house for dinner once and she was so excited about what they were having, I thought she said chicken gizzards wrapped in bacon and I was okay with that and we sat down to dinner. Looked good. I wasn't a stranger to gizzards. And then I ate one. That weren't no gizzard! I thought, well, it happens, my mom has had a stray liver in the gizzards before, so I ate another, and then one more just to be sure - then I asked what we were having here. "Chicken LIVERS wrapped in bacon." Oh my!
"Thank you, I'm finished." I ate the rest of my sides politely, and it was a long time before I ate over to a friend's house again.
I married a liver eater. I don't know how this happened. I thought I had screened carefully but, this little nugget of information got past me. I have been out to dinner with Jeremy on a couple occasions when he's ordered liver & onions and you know that whole "tastes change" thing, I tried a bite just to check if that's true. And, yeah, I still don't like it. There isn't enough ketchup to mask that flavor!
This is what I don't get -
When my sister, Valerie was living home (she passed away when I was 10) she used to make this stuff 'Liver Dip' she called it. And we used to eat it with potato chips and I LOVED it...I need to dig up that recipe. I also had been to a restaurant a few times, Club 37 in Baldwin (no website, sorry) and they served a liver pate with crackers before the meal, that pate was so smooth and so creamy and I so loved that too! I'm actually craving it a little. **Funny now I've written this and Jeremy wants Liver Dip and my brother asked for the recipe!
I remember living at home, a roll of Braunschweiger would once in awhile appear in the lunchmeat drawer after a Saturday morning trip to the grocery store. My mom would make a little sandwich now and again to get her liver fix. If she sliced it real thin, added lettuce, tomato and a bit of mayo, she knew if she made it just right, I'd likely share a sandwich with her. It was mostly a summer thing, we'd sit on the front porch, share a sandwich and some chips - I say share because 1/2 a sandwich was about all I could take!
Summer is coming...I wonder if I can get Jeremy so share a Braunschweiger sandwich with me out of the front porch...I wonder if I can still find Braunschweiger?
(Actually, I do get it now, I didn't until researching for this post. Cooked liver that you would use with liver & onions is beef liver which is typically a stronger flavor. Liver used in the pate I spoke of and Braunschweiger is pork liver and milder. Chicken livers are just plain gross!)
I seem to recall our family of 8 was divided when it comes to liver. Mom = yes, Cindy = yes, Karen = I'm not sure, Gloria = yes, Valerie = yes, David = NO (I had to call and check), and Dad & I = No. I don't remember my mom cooking it often. I do know she never forced me to eat it - she couldn't because Dad didn't like it - and my dad ate all kinds of crazy shit! If Dad wasn't eating it - it was bad and I wasn't eating it either!
I did try it a few times as a kid. Each time, was just as bad as the first time!
I was invited to a friend's house for dinner once and she was so excited about what they were having, I thought she said chicken gizzards wrapped in bacon and I was okay with that and we sat down to dinner. Looked good. I wasn't a stranger to gizzards. And then I ate one. That weren't no gizzard! I thought, well, it happens, my mom has had a stray liver in the gizzards before, so I ate another, and then one more just to be sure - then I asked what we were having here. "Chicken LIVERS wrapped in bacon." Oh my!
"Thank you, I'm finished." I ate the rest of my sides politely, and it was a long time before I ate over to a friend's house again.
I married a liver eater. I don't know how this happened. I thought I had screened carefully but, this little nugget of information got past me. I have been out to dinner with Jeremy on a couple occasions when he's ordered liver & onions and you know that whole "tastes change" thing, I tried a bite just to check if that's true. And, yeah, I still don't like it. There isn't enough ketchup to mask that flavor!
This is what I don't get -
When my sister, Valerie was living home (she passed away when I was 10) she used to make this stuff 'Liver Dip' she called it. And we used to eat it with potato chips and I LOVED it...I need to dig up that recipe. I also had been to a restaurant a few times, Club 37 in Baldwin (no website, sorry) and they served a liver pate with crackers before the meal, that pate was so smooth and so creamy and I so loved that too! I'm actually craving it a little. **Funny now I've written this and Jeremy wants Liver Dip and my brother asked for the recipe!
I remember living at home, a roll of Braunschweiger would once in awhile appear in the lunchmeat drawer after a Saturday morning trip to the grocery store. My mom would make a little sandwich now and again to get her liver fix. If she sliced it real thin, added lettuce, tomato and a bit of mayo, she knew if she made it just right, I'd likely share a sandwich with her. It was mostly a summer thing, we'd sit on the front porch, share a sandwich and some chips - I say share because 1/2 a sandwich was about all I could take!
Summer is coming...I wonder if I can get Jeremy so share a Braunschweiger sandwich with me out of the front porch...I wonder if I can still find Braunschweiger?
(Actually, I do get it now, I didn't until researching for this post. Cooked liver that you would use with liver & onions is beef liver which is typically a stronger flavor. Liver used in the pate I spoke of and Braunschweiger is pork liver and milder. Chicken livers are just plain gross!)
Likes: Rhubarb
Two days into this and I'm already behind! I do have to say though - my patio, looks freaking awesome! And my hands are still shaking from 3 hours with the power washer!
Where was I, oh yeah, Rhubarb!
I don't know how I came to like Rhubarb - let alone to even try it. It doesn't look appealing. In the raw form, it tastes TERRIBLE! I don't remember not liking it - I only remember LOVING it!
I suspect it all happened at my Uncle Art and Annie Mae's house. Uncle Art was my dad's brother. We took what seemed like a lot of day trips to their house after my dad retired. Uncle Art and Annie Mae always had a ginormous garden out back and they were always picking, canning, or cooking up something. Aside from that - my Annie Mae's rhubarb crisp was brought to many a family reunion (a few times at my request) and hers, hers is the best!
Sadly, both my Uncle Art and Annie Mae have passed on but, my cousin Stan, their son brought me some rhubarb crisp to the reunion last year - Stan got it just right!
If you haven't figured it out, my favorite is Rhubarb Crisp. I don't care much for pie, mostly because everyone wants to add strawberries to rhubarb pie and I prefer straight up, untainted, shouldn't share the spotlight, rhubarb! If I do happen across rhubarb pie, I can't leave without a slice. There is a little restaurant by us where we go for breakfast once in a while and sometimes they list rhubarb pie on their board...I take a slice home. I have tried few other variations with rhubarb - I recently made crunch and my sister has made bread or muffins with rhubarb but, I still prefer the bubbly goodness under an oatmeal and brown sugar topping. I'll stick with my recipe. Thanks though.
I even have an all rhubarb cookbook! :)
You can find the recipe I use for my crisp here. I also use the same recipe for apple crisp in the fall.
Where was I, oh yeah, Rhubarb!
I don't know how I came to like Rhubarb - let alone to even try it. It doesn't look appealing. In the raw form, it tastes TERRIBLE! I don't remember not liking it - I only remember LOVING it!
I suspect it all happened at my Uncle Art and Annie Mae's house. Uncle Art was my dad's brother. We took what seemed like a lot of day trips to their house after my dad retired. Uncle Art and Annie Mae always had a ginormous garden out back and they were always picking, canning, or cooking up something. Aside from that - my Annie Mae's rhubarb crisp was brought to many a family reunion (a few times at my request) and hers, hers is the best!
Sadly, both my Uncle Art and Annie Mae have passed on but, my cousin Stan, their son brought me some rhubarb crisp to the reunion last year - Stan got it just right!
If you haven't figured it out, my favorite is Rhubarb Crisp. I don't care much for pie, mostly because everyone wants to add strawberries to rhubarb pie and I prefer straight up, untainted, shouldn't share the spotlight, rhubarb! If I do happen across rhubarb pie, I can't leave without a slice. There is a little restaurant by us where we go for breakfast once in a while and sometimes they list rhubarb pie on their board...I take a slice home. I have tried few other variations with rhubarb - I recently made crunch and my sister has made bread or muffins with rhubarb but, I still prefer the bubbly goodness under an oatmeal and brown sugar topping. I'll stick with my recipe. Thanks though.
I even have an all rhubarb cookbook! :)
You can find the recipe I use for my crisp here. I also use the same recipe for apple crisp in the fall.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Dislike: Raisins, Dates, Prunes
You've been there, someone in the office brings in homemade cookies and you're eyeing them, not quite sure if they're chocolate chip but, they don't look like oatmeal so you take two of them, bite in only to find those weren't chocolate chips! They're raisins! What a disappointment! And now you have two raisin cookies to politely choke down or give away.
Of the three I can tolerate raisins. Broccoli salad, carrot cake, they're just not the same without raisins. I don't care for them plain, just to eat. Though the thing about them when cooked that bothers me is that they re inflate/rehydrate/whatever and why bother to dehydrate them in the first place if you're going to turn them back into grapes?
Out of curiosity, did you know that steak sauce's primary ingredient is...Raisin paste?
Dates - dates are gross. Just Gross. They remind me of detached fingers in the crime shows on TV. When I lived at home oh, twenty some years ago, my mom had a box of dates in the refrigerator. The box was 70's orange and brown and I'd bet you a dollar to this day - that same box is still in there! My palate is not refined to the point where I could say a date was used in a sauce, a dressing or a compote (as the http://www.datesaregreat.com/ states as popular uses for them) but, if I saw a date on a plate - I would likely pass - regardless of what it was stuffed with!
Prunes - prunes are even worse than dates! Remember that TV commercial where they're popping prunes like candy saying how they're like 'nature's candy' or some crap like that? I wonder if they really chewed and ate them or spit them in the trash? We had some uh, issues with Jacob when he was a baby and the Dr. suggested some baby prunes. Jacob loved them! He ate them right up! After every spoon he'd open his mouth like a little bird and leaning toward me for the spoon. He ate nearly the whole jar and well, the issue, it was shall we say, resolved. Yeah.
I'm a little afraid of getting old and partaking in the prune juice cocktails. The thought really is freightening - isn't there a yogurt now to help with that?
Of the three I can tolerate raisins. Broccoli salad, carrot cake, they're just not the same without raisins. I don't care for them plain, just to eat. Though the thing about them when cooked that bothers me is that they re inflate/rehydrate/whatever and why bother to dehydrate them in the first place if you're going to turn them back into grapes?
Out of curiosity, did you know that steak sauce's primary ingredient is...Raisin paste?
Dates - dates are gross. Just Gross. They remind me of detached fingers in the crime shows on TV. When I lived at home oh, twenty some years ago, my mom had a box of dates in the refrigerator. The box was 70's orange and brown and I'd bet you a dollar to this day - that same box is still in there! My palate is not refined to the point where I could say a date was used in a sauce, a dressing or a compote (as the http://www.datesaregreat.com/ states as popular uses for them) but, if I saw a date on a plate - I would likely pass - regardless of what it was stuffed with!
Prunes - prunes are even worse than dates! Remember that TV commercial where they're popping prunes like candy saying how they're like 'nature's candy' or some crap like that? I wonder if they really chewed and ate them or spit them in the trash? We had some uh, issues with Jacob when he was a baby and the Dr. suggested some baby prunes. Jacob loved them! He ate them right up! After every spoon he'd open his mouth like a little bird and leaning toward me for the spoon. He ate nearly the whole jar and well, the issue, it was shall we say, resolved. Yeah.
I'm a little afraid of getting old and partaking in the prune juice cocktails. The thought really is freightening - isn't there a yogurt now to help with that?
Friday, June 1, 2012
Likes: Pizza
Pizza is totally, hands down, my absolute favorite food. Homemade, ordered out, ready made, store bought, I don't care. I just LOVE pizza.
My #1 favorite is Vitale's Pizza in Allegan. I love the bits of garlic in their sauce - the kind that sticks with you over night. I prefer vegetables on my pizza - any and all of them - with less meat. Jeremy is all about the meat. Typically our toppings of choice are mushrooms, ham, pepperoni and onions - it's a good compromise. Vitale's has the perfect pie, flavorful, fresh toppings, and they give plenty of them, just enough cheese and you're not mopping up grease with napkins either. The best part - to reheat is divine! Just as good as the night before - maybe better! YUM!
My #2 favorite is back home in Manistee at Big Al's. I don't care what the place looks like or the motley crew behind the counter - their Chicago style pizza is THE ticket! They also use fresh toppings, just the right amout of cheese, and you can ask for extra sauce and extra napkins! This also reheats well.
We often buy a take-and-bake pizza from the grocery store deli that I like. We generally stick with a 'Supreme' type toppings or, or, if we're lucky - they have my ABSOLUTE favorite - BBQ Chicken Pizza! Onions, Chicken, sweet BBQ sauce and cheese! Really, it is delicious! At least in my book. Generally, one of these is a meal for us, I have never reheated.
I am a thinner crust pizza connoisseur. I do not care for Pizza Hut's absorbent sponge they call Pan crust. I do like their hand tossed pizza, though I feel they are a little shy with their toppings and for that price, I want some stuff on my pizza! I have recently gone to the lunch buffett and I am happier with that.
I don't care much for a homemade pizza because the crust is generally too crisp for my liking or it's terribly soggy. I also haven't found a sauce that I care for. I have made a version of BBQ Chicken Pizza at home and it was rather tasty. I would make it again. If I could find a balance between crisp and sog, I'd make more at home. I would love - love to make a Pizza Margherita. Next on my list to try!
DiGiorno is my favorite for frozen. I prefer the 'fresh' taste as opposed to the iced cardboard flavor most frozen pizzas can take on. Cardboard is NOT one of my food groups.
And last but, certainly not least - Little Caesar's and the $5 (or $5.55 in my area) hot and ready pizza! Hot, delicious, and ready. Perfect...until the next day. I do not like their pizza as leftovers.
Most expensive pizza I ever had was in Chicago, a little over a year ago now. We were in the hotel and Jacob was asleep, we had no car to run out and room service had closed. Jeremy called in a pizza from one of the numbers left on that table tent in the hotel room, 45 minutes later and the $35 medium pizza arrived. We were so hungry, it didn't matter that the cheese was oozing everywhere and we each got one slice of pepperoni apiece. The sauce had a little bite to it and though it curbed the hunger, it was so common, I can't even remember the name of the parlour that brought it!
Where is your favorite pizza and what toppings do you like?
My #1 favorite is Vitale's Pizza in Allegan. I love the bits of garlic in their sauce - the kind that sticks with you over night. I prefer vegetables on my pizza - any and all of them - with less meat. Jeremy is all about the meat. Typically our toppings of choice are mushrooms, ham, pepperoni and onions - it's a good compromise. Vitale's has the perfect pie, flavorful, fresh toppings, and they give plenty of them, just enough cheese and you're not mopping up grease with napkins either. The best part - to reheat is divine! Just as good as the night before - maybe better! YUM!
My #2 favorite is back home in Manistee at Big Al's. I don't care what the place looks like or the motley crew behind the counter - their Chicago style pizza is THE ticket! They also use fresh toppings, just the right amout of cheese, and you can ask for extra sauce and extra napkins! This also reheats well.
We often buy a take-and-bake pizza from the grocery store deli that I like. We generally stick with a 'Supreme' type toppings or, or, if we're lucky - they have my ABSOLUTE favorite - BBQ Chicken Pizza! Onions, Chicken, sweet BBQ sauce and cheese! Really, it is delicious! At least in my book. Generally, one of these is a meal for us, I have never reheated.
I am a thinner crust pizza connoisseur. I do not care for Pizza Hut's absorbent sponge they call Pan crust. I do like their hand tossed pizza, though I feel they are a little shy with their toppings and for that price, I want some stuff on my pizza! I have recently gone to the lunch buffett and I am happier with that.
I don't care much for a homemade pizza because the crust is generally too crisp for my liking or it's terribly soggy. I also haven't found a sauce that I care for. I have made a version of BBQ Chicken Pizza at home and it was rather tasty. I would make it again. If I could find a balance between crisp and sog, I'd make more at home. I would love - love to make a Pizza Margherita. Next on my list to try!
DiGiorno is my favorite for frozen. I prefer the 'fresh' taste as opposed to the iced cardboard flavor most frozen pizzas can take on. Cardboard is NOT one of my food groups.
And last but, certainly not least - Little Caesar's and the $5 (or $5.55 in my area) hot and ready pizza! Hot, delicious, and ready. Perfect...until the next day. I do not like their pizza as leftovers.
Most expensive pizza I ever had was in Chicago, a little over a year ago now. We were in the hotel and Jacob was asleep, we had no car to run out and room service had closed. Jeremy called in a pizza from one of the numbers left on that table tent in the hotel room, 45 minutes later and the $35 medium pizza arrived. We were so hungry, it didn't matter that the cheese was oozing everywhere and we each got one slice of pepperoni apiece. The sauce had a little bite to it and though it curbed the hunger, it was so common, I can't even remember the name of the parlour that brought it!
Where is your favorite pizza and what toppings do you like?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Next!
I had a lot of fun with the Alphabet blogging this last month but, I mostly enjoyed opening up and writing what came to mind from each prompt. It does get too easy to come out here to go off on big rant or to share the latest goofiness of my kid and my dog. I don't want to do just that and so, I thought I'd do another month of writing. And well, this topic was suggested to me and I liked it!
I have another writing challenge coming up. 15 Foods is the next topic and I'll start out with 15 foods that are my favorites. I'll share the what's and why's and probably some of my favorite recipes with you too. And toward the middle of the month, we'll hit on my 15 dislikes and things I wouldn't eat if you paid me to.
Now, I do have to warn you ahead of time - I will contradict myself in my 'dislikes'. Take fish for instance - I don't like fish - for the most part. Though I do like me some perch, baked walleye, or deep fried cod. For fear of my gag reflex - there are many that I won't mention right now but, you'll find out what fish has made me toss my cookies in a hospital bathroom. See what I mean!?!
We'll see how it goes, see what happens. I think this will be a fun opportunity, some fun practice.
June 1 is the magic day to start and June 30 should be the day I'll end.
I'm looking forward to this new challenge and I hope you'll read along.
I have another writing challenge coming up. 15 Foods is the next topic and I'll start out with 15 foods that are my favorites. I'll share the what's and why's and probably some of my favorite recipes with you too. And toward the middle of the month, we'll hit on my 15 dislikes and things I wouldn't eat if you paid me to.
Now, I do have to warn you ahead of time - I will contradict myself in my 'dislikes'. Take fish for instance - I don't like fish - for the most part. Though I do like me some perch, baked walleye, or deep fried cod. For fear of my gag reflex - there are many that I won't mention right now but, you'll find out what fish has made me toss my cookies in a hospital bathroom. See what I mean!?!
We'll see how it goes, see what happens. I think this will be a fun opportunity, some fun practice.
June 1 is the magic day to start and June 30 should be the day I'll end.
I'm looking forward to this new challenge and I hope you'll read along.
Monday, May 28, 2012
The Soldier - Memorial Day 2012
The Soldier
It is the soldier, not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the soldier,
who salutes the flag,
who serves under the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
who allows the protester to burn the flag.
By Charles M. Province, copyright 1970, 2010
Thank you Soldiers for your service and dedication to our country.
We also thank the members of our family who fought for freedom under our flag.
Daniel Benson Nolff - who gave his life in service of our country on October 29, 1966
Claude E. Harper -- POW WWII
Henry "Butch" Nolff Sr. (July 4, 2003) -- Vietnam
Wilbur "Web" Elenbaas (Sept. 4, 1999) -- Korea
Larry Hagen (Dec. 26, 2008) -- Korea
John L. Coleman (July 24, 1994) -- WWII
Arthur A. Elenbaas (March 10, 2011) -- WWII
Clayton H. Elenbaas (April 6, 2001) -- WWII
Gordon F. Elenbaas (November 8, 1999) -- WWII
Richard Elenbaas (Sept. 4, 1970) -- WWI
And those who also served.
J. Alan Coleman, USMC
Don Harper, US Army
Bill Harper, US Air Force
Although no sculptured marble should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear record of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored. ~Daniel Webster
It is the soldier, not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the soldier,
who salutes the flag,
who serves under the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
who allows the protester to burn the flag.
By Charles M. Province, copyright 1970, 2010
Thank you Soldiers for your service and dedication to our country.
We also thank the members of our family who fought for freedom under our flag.
Daniel Benson Nolff - who gave his life in service of our country on October 29, 1966
Claude E. Harper -- POW WWII
Henry "Butch" Nolff Sr. (July 4, 2003) -- Vietnam
Wilbur "Web" Elenbaas (Sept. 4, 1999) -- Korea
Larry Hagen (Dec. 26, 2008) -- Korea
John L. Coleman (July 24, 1994) -- WWII
Arthur A. Elenbaas (March 10, 2011) -- WWII
Clayton H. Elenbaas (April 6, 2001) -- WWII
Gordon F. Elenbaas (November 8, 1999) -- WWII
Richard Elenbaas (Sept. 4, 1970) -- WWI
And those who also served.
J. Alan Coleman, USMC
Don Harper, US Army
Bill Harper, US Air Force
Although no sculptured marble should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear record of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored. ~Daniel Webster
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Z = Zuzu's Petals
When this whole alphabet blogging thing came up, Jeremy was the first to fill in Z and the first thing he said was "Zuzu's Petals" from It's a Wonderful Life. And this post, I knew from the start of this project what I was going to share. I guess you could say I was holding out for the last post.
When I was a kid my mom had this little itty-bitty brown, cut glass, vase. It was always in the kitchen window - I think it had a brother in green at one time but, if so, he's long gone. This vase is only 4" tall and cute as a bug's ear. Sometimes, she used it to help root smaller plants but, mostly it was just perfect for those little bouquets of daisies, violets, or dandelions that us kids loved to pick out of the grass and give to our mom. At least I loved to!
When Jacob was about 3 or 4 we had stopped over to my mom's house and this little vase was still on her windowsill - where it's been for the last 30 some years - probably since I last filled it with flowers for her. I've passed it at least a hundred times. I never thought about it, never asked about it. I don't even know where it came from. She and I were in the kitchen as I was packing up to head home when she turned back, reached out to the windowsill and she passed this little brown vase on to me and said "you're a mom now, it's your turn to have this for the flowers Jacob will bring to you". She knew what was coming. She knew all about little boys.
I took that little vase home with me, wrapped with care so nothing could happen to it. I don't have a windowsill over my kitchen sink but, I do have a little shelf where it sits waiting for the next little bouquet.
My mom's little brown vase is rarely without petals again and now I know what it's like to get these little flowers...the best flowers I've ever been given, from this little boy...who's stolen my heart. He calls me mom! He loves to pick flowers for me. He comes in with a little stem of a flower and they float perfectly in my mom's little vase. Just like she knew they would. Just like they did when they were for her.
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