-I love diet pop. The chemicals make it taste better.
-I cheated on my GF diet and ate a piping hot sopapilla - I got a stomache, and it was SO worth it. Mmmm...
-Jelly beans, Peeps, and gumdrops are the grossest candys on the planet.
-I actually like tofu, and try to sneak it into foods when my husband isn't looking.
-I am a coffee snob, but will drink any red wine with chocolate.
-I never follow recipes. Ever. Ever.
-Celery and acorn squash are disgusting. Oh, they taste fine, but there texture grosses me out.
-Sometimes I can't eat yogurt because the thought of all those pro-biotics swimming makes me feel queezy.
-I ate an unseemly amount of Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers while pregnant with my daughter. Even now they have a special place in my heart.
-I HEART zucchini from my garden. Like a lot. Seriously, I eat pound of zuchs every week when they're ready for harvest.
-I hate the taste of freezer burn.
-When I eat raw onion my breath is terrible for like a week.
Okay, 'fess up. What are your food weirdnesses?
Showing posts with label gluten free living. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gluten free living. Show all posts
Monday, May 4, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Peeling Potatoes: A new day on the horizon
I like to cook; I hate to peel, or chop, or mince. I want a prep cook. No one has volunteered, but this THIS might just change my life.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
ENGLISH MUFFINS !!!
Oh GFers of the world REJOICE! Katrina has concocted a GF english muffin recipe. I haven't tried them yet, but I will! Oh I will! The gluten free goddess always has yummy recipes!
http://glutenfreegoddess.blogspot.com/2009/04/gluten-free-english-muffins.html
http://glutenfreegoddess.blogspot.com/2009/04/gluten-free-english-muffins.html
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Porridge
This is how it went down:
We've been trying to pinch pennies around here and in a misguided attempt at economy I decided to forgo grocery shopping until there was literally nothing in the house to eat. We didn't make it...I caved. But not before Fruity Dino-Bites made it into our pantry. The kids had no idea cereal came in all those colors. They thought cereal looked like this:
I remembered to turn on the crockpot. We did indeed have porridge for breakfast. We gave it a 1.5 stars out of a possible 5. It was "goopy" and the dried fruit had rehydrated into brownish tasteless blobs. The flavor was good, though (thus the 1.5 stars).
E said that it would probably be better if I just did it on the stovetop like the other times when I've forgotten to turn on the crockpot. I think he's right. But, dang it all, that totally defeats the point of making porridge in a crockpot.
It was cheap, and healthful which this is in direct contrast to the what the kids ended up eating after they decided the couldn't take any more porridge (see picture below). Hubs, out of shear desperation, went to the store to pick up some cereal. We don't send him often because he has a weakness for endcap displays and junkfood. Case in point:
We've been trying to pinch pennies around here and in a misguided attempt at economy I decided to forgo grocery shopping until there was literally nothing in the house to eat. We didn't make it...I caved. But not before Fruity Dino-Bites made it into our pantry. The kids had no idea cereal came in all those colors. They thought cereal looked like this:Eddie, whos mother allowed "sugar cereal", finds this to be unamerican... so occasionally he rebels and my crunchy, hippy tendencies. It's okay, I forgive him because, frankly I am easily bought. Look at what he brought me this morning:
Monday, February 16, 2009
I love my crockpot.
It's really ugly, my crockpot. Like U.G.L.Y.!!!!!!!!!!!
But it cooks stuff without me being there. And that, my friends, is just fabulous.
Plus, I found a blog called "A Year of Crockpotting", and it has all sorts of interesting and (more importantly) gluten free ideas.
My latest kick? Porridge. Step aside Goldilocks, my crockpot and I are on the move.
Tonight I'm trying a concoction of steel cut oats, millet, and sweet brown rice. I threw in some dried cherries, craisins, apple and raisins and cinnamon in for good measure. Before I turn in for the night I'll add some water and turn my ugly pot on low. And when the alarm goes off in the AM breakfast will already be made.
What's not to love?
Well I guess that, potentially, it could be really gross. And then there is this little issue I have with remembering to turn the crock pot on. (A critical step by the way!) I think I've solved that delimma, though. I brought Mr. Crock upstairs and plugged him in next to my toothbrush.
For real.
Eddie was dismayed.
In Eddie's world you just don't do that; crockpots belong in kitchens. This is why Eddie needs me. His life would be so very normal without my influence; so very predictable. He'd probably eat stuff like instant oatmeal for breakfast. He'd probably always make it in the microwave. In the kitchen. How BORING!
Bring on the millet, I say. Maybe next time I'll try doing it in the toaster oven.
Stay tuned...I'll keep you posted on the results.
But it cooks stuff without me being there. And that, my friends, is just fabulous.
Plus, I found a blog called "A Year of Crockpotting", and it has all sorts of interesting and (more importantly) gluten free ideas.
My latest kick? Porridge. Step aside Goldilocks, my crockpot and I are on the move.
Tonight I'm trying a concoction of steel cut oats, millet, and sweet brown rice. I threw in some dried cherries, craisins, apple and raisins and cinnamon in for good measure. Before I turn in for the night I'll add some water and turn my ugly pot on low. And when the alarm goes off in the AM breakfast will already be made.
What's not to love?
Well I guess that, potentially, it could be really gross. And then there is this little issue I have with remembering to turn the crock pot on. (A critical step by the way!) I think I've solved that delimma, though. I brought Mr. Crock upstairs and plugged him in next to my toothbrush.
For real.
Eddie was dismayed.
In Eddie's world you just don't do that; crockpots belong in kitchens. This is why Eddie needs me. His life would be so very normal without my influence; so very predictable. He'd probably eat stuff like instant oatmeal for breakfast. He'd probably always make it in the microwave. In the kitchen. How BORING!
Bring on the millet, I say. Maybe next time I'll try doing it in the toaster oven.
Stay tuned...I'll keep you posted on the results.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Gluten Free Advice for a Newbie
My friends Angela, Dawn, the other Dawn, and Julia are fellow gluten-freeers. Some are veterans, some are newbies. And that isn't counting my sisters, or my dad, or aquaintences I know. Gluten free just ain't as weird as it used to be; there are a lot of us out there. But when you begin the journey into gluten free territory it can feel a little daunting and a lot lonely. It's hard at first; I won't lie. But it does become second nature. Here is my advice in no order whatsoever.
-Shop at Vitamin Cottage. It's cheapest and has the best selection. Buy bulk.
-Xanthum Gum. Guar Gum. Tapioca Starch. Potato Starch. Brown Rice Flour. Sorgum Flour. BUY THESE THINGS - THEY ARE YOUR NEW STAPLES.
-Tinkyada Pasta rocks - as a general rule the other stuff tastes like cardboard.
-Spice mixes are your new enemy (down with taco seasoning packages). You can buy bulk spices at Vit. Cot. that are GF. Also, all McCormick's brand spices are GF. Learn to blend your own spices; its cheaper anyway.
-La Choy Soy sacue is GF.
-Lot's of things are naturally GF. They are a great place to start. Think: chili, baked potatoes, polenta, grits, rice, rice porridge, tacos, corn tortillas, fruit, veggies, chicken, most homeade soup.
-Shop the outside of the grocery store. The inside isles contain most of the gluten.
-Quinoa is good.
-Bean flour is weird; you might aquire a taste for it, but I haven't.
-Visit Katrina's Kitchen, Gluten Free Girl, Celiac.com, a Year of Crockpotting, and Gluten Free Gobsmacked. They are excellent on-line resources.
-Carol Fenster's cook books are good.
-When you are mourning the loss of all comfort foods call me; I have a deliciously unhealthy recipe for homeade gluten free doughnuts.
-Shop at Vitamin Cottage. It's cheapest and has the best selection. Buy bulk.
-Xanthum Gum. Guar Gum. Tapioca Starch. Potato Starch. Brown Rice Flour. Sorgum Flour. BUY THESE THINGS - THEY ARE YOUR NEW STAPLES.
-Tinkyada Pasta rocks - as a general rule the other stuff tastes like cardboard.
-Spice mixes are your new enemy (down with taco seasoning packages). You can buy bulk spices at Vit. Cot. that are GF. Also, all McCormick's brand spices are GF. Learn to blend your own spices; its cheaper anyway.
-La Choy Soy sacue is GF.
-Lot's of things are naturally GF. They are a great place to start. Think: chili, baked potatoes, polenta, grits, rice, rice porridge, tacos, corn tortillas, fruit, veggies, chicken, most homeade soup.
-Shop the outside of the grocery store. The inside isles contain most of the gluten.
-Quinoa is good.
-Bean flour is weird; you might aquire a taste for it, but I haven't.
-Visit Katrina's Kitchen, Gluten Free Girl, Celiac.com, a Year of Crockpotting, and Gluten Free Gobsmacked. They are excellent on-line resources.
-Carol Fenster's cook books are good.
-When you are mourning the loss of all comfort foods call me; I have a deliciously unhealthy recipe for homeade gluten free doughnuts.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
You know you're a homeschooler when...
I need to do a Letterman style top 10 list entitled, "You know you're a homeschooler when..." It'd have stuff like: You know you're a homeschooler when your kids take their spelling test in their pajamas. Or maybe, you know you're a homeschooler when you let your kid go to the store wearing plaid shorts, cowboy boots, and a hawaiian shirt littered with "Jesus Loves You" stickers - and he's 13 years old.
I think people who don't homeschool think that us homeschooling moms don't realize our kids are weird. We know. We are keenly aware.
I was talking to another homeschool mom about her first day at her son's football practice. She said all the other boys on the team had buzz cuts, and her son had longish curly hair. She said her son was dressed in Target brand clothes, head to foot. But the other boys were all wearing the same brand of designer shirts and shoes. Her son stuck out like a sore thumb, and she had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, she wanted her son to fit in and be included. On the other hand she really liked that her son was different - totally himself, among the 8 and 9 year old football clones.
That's where the whole socialization question comes in. When people ask how our homeschooled kids will be socialized they are really asking, "Don't you think your kids will end up kinda weird if they aren't in school with other kids?" They aren't really asking if our kids will be able to function as adults and have healthy relationships. Homeschool kids do those things.
But are they weird?
Yeah, kinda.
We know it.
They usually aren't as hip.
They grow up slower, and use bigger words when they talk.
They might even be interested in mechanical engineering or sewing.
And for the most part - we like it that way. Our kids are growing up to be who God made them to be. They are unique; they are individuals. And a little weird is worth it!
I think people who don't homeschool think that us homeschooling moms don't realize our kids are weird. We know. We are keenly aware.
I was talking to another homeschool mom about her first day at her son's football practice. She said all the other boys on the team had buzz cuts, and her son had longish curly hair. She said her son was dressed in Target brand clothes, head to foot. But the other boys were all wearing the same brand of designer shirts and shoes. Her son stuck out like a sore thumb, and she had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, she wanted her son to fit in and be included. On the other hand she really liked that her son was different - totally himself, among the 8 and 9 year old football clones.
That's where the whole socialization question comes in. When people ask how our homeschooled kids will be socialized they are really asking, "Don't you think your kids will end up kinda weird if they aren't in school with other kids?" They aren't really asking if our kids will be able to function as adults and have healthy relationships. Homeschool kids do those things.
But are they weird?
Yeah, kinda.
We know it.
They usually aren't as hip.
They grow up slower, and use bigger words when they talk.
They might even be interested in mechanical engineering or sewing.
And for the most part - we like it that way. Our kids are growing up to be who God made them to be. They are unique; they are individuals. And a little weird is worth it!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Wanna be food blogger
I've got a really deep and profound post stewing around in my head, but I'm not ready to share it yet. So you get this:
A) A picture of bean brownies
B) A picture of last night's dinner. It featured veggies from our garden: cucumberss, tomatoes, rosemary and basil. Plus some chicken, pasta, feta and a vinegrette. mmmm...gardens rock.
C) Musical instruments. Oh, does that look like a pile of crud on the floor to you? You are so so wrong. My kids made instruments and jammed out for a good 45 minutes. You know you're a homeschooler when you find an kleenex box full of lentils on the floor and consider it a good educational experience.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I dare ya!
I can be fearful about many things.
Cooking isn't one of them.
When I cook I am bold and brave. And it's that sense of adventure (and a killer chocolate craving) that led me to this recipe. It's the weirdest recipe you'll ever love. And it is weird, even by my liberal standards.
Gluten - Free Chocolate Brownies for the Brave of Heart
1 can of beans drained (I recommend Great Northern, Black, or heck even Pinto)
1/2 cup of soy milk (or cow milk for you wimps out there)
2 T. peanut butter
1/3 cup of prune puree (or baby food plums)
1/2 c. GF flour blend (or I'm sure normal wheat flour would work for you non-diseased folks)
2 Tbs. of good vanilla - give or take
1 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. cocoa powder
1.5 tsp. baking powder
1.5baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup of chopped nuts or chocolate chips (I say go for the extra chocolate, personally)
Preheat oven. Toss everything (but nuts or chips) into your blender, and give her a whirl. Add nuts or chips. Stir. Bake at 350 for 45-55 minutes in a greased 9x9 pan.
Do not, under any circumstances, tell your taste testers what you put in the brownies. I bet they'd never guess.
These brownies are moist, but kinda cakey and could be frosted. They are also better on the second day. Couldn't tell you why. Also, they are very reasonably low fat, but have an outrageous fiber content.
Try 'em. I dare ya!
*this post is in honor of my father who will eat anything, regardless of expiration date. You have inspired me to live beyond the bounds of what other's think is wise. ;)
Cooking isn't one of them.
When I cook I am bold and brave. And it's that sense of adventure (and a killer chocolate craving) that led me to this recipe. It's the weirdest recipe you'll ever love. And it is weird, even by my liberal standards.
Gluten - Free Chocolate Brownies for the Brave of Heart
1 can of beans drained (I recommend Great Northern, Black, or heck even Pinto)
1/2 cup of soy milk (or cow milk for you wimps out there)
2 T. peanut butter
1/3 cup of prune puree (or baby food plums)
1/2 c. GF flour blend (or I'm sure normal wheat flour would work for you non-diseased folks)
2 Tbs. of good vanilla - give or take
1 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. cocoa powder
1.5 tsp. baking powder
1.5baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup of chopped nuts or chocolate chips (I say go for the extra chocolate, personally)
Preheat oven. Toss everything (but nuts or chips) into your blender, and give her a whirl. Add nuts or chips. Stir. Bake at 350 for 45-55 minutes in a greased 9x9 pan.
Do not, under any circumstances, tell your taste testers what you put in the brownies. I bet they'd never guess.
These brownies are moist, but kinda cakey and could be frosted. They are also better on the second day. Couldn't tell you why. Also, they are very reasonably low fat, but have an outrageous fiber content.
Try 'em. I dare ya!
*this post is in honor of my father who will eat anything, regardless of expiration date. You have inspired me to live beyond the bounds of what other's think is wise. ;)
swimwear
Our church rented out a smallish yet cool waterpark for an evening of hanging out and baptism. As you might recall, I'm at my fat weight. I don't relish the thought of revealing my fat weight to members of my church in a bathing suit.
What to wear? What to wear?
The black string bikini of my early twenties is probably out. So is the cute little tankini my husband bought for me when I was fit and buff. Do they make swim wear in a turtleneck?
As it happens, they do!
While brousing the modest Christian clothing options available on the internet I happened upon these lovely articles of clothing. My favorite is, of course, the peice that manages to deliver both swimwear AND CULOTTES in a single stroke of fashion defiance.
But for the record, I did find some pretty cute (for real) swimming suits. I'm too cheap to buy a new one, so I'm hoping that all my untanned flesh will temporarily blind co-swimmers so they won't notice the jiggle.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Don't break my heart
I wonder if it's possible to say a prayer, over and over again and not mean a word of it. I think it might be. I'm pretty sure it is.
I've been praying, "God break my heart for the city. Give me eyes to see what you see and a heart that breaks for the things that break your heart. Help me to be able to handle what I see."
But I really, really don't want a broken heart.
A broken heart has always predicated surrender and obedience in my life.
A broken heart has always led me to the place where I say, "Not my will, but yours be done."And next thing I know I'm off to Africa...literally.
If I pray, "God break my heart for the city" I'm afraid that I'll end up a foster parent - or adopting a sibling group from Sierra Leone - or giving up my comfortable suburban life for a duplex in the inner city. It'll be messy, and costly I guarantee it.
Back in the days when I went to Baptist Summer Camp we would end each evening at with "chapel". Every night at chapel there would be an alter call. We would sing the old hymn, " I surrender all, all to thee my precious Savior, I surrender all. " Over - And Over - And Over - And Over....until the prescribed number of campers came forward to "rededicate their lives to Jesus".
One of the guys from our church (Kurt Owens you were a hero) finally discovered that if you went forward to "rededicate" you could get out before the rest of the kids and be first to buy candy from the snack canteen. I think that that year there were an unprecedented number of kids who "rededicated their lives to Jesus". Coincidentally, they happened to be the same kids who got all the grape pop before they ran out at the canteen.
Anyway, while praying my obligatory "break my heart for the city" prayer the words to that old camp hymn came back to me.
I surrender all
All to thee my Precious Savior
I surrender all.
But the version I've been singing these days goes differently,
I surrender most,
Most to thee my Precious Savior,
as long as it doesn't cost too much"
It loses something doesn't it? Okay everything. If Jesus can't have my whole heart it doesn't really count.
The thing is brokenness and surrender go hand in hand.
Brokenness, surrender and obedience are an inseparable trio.
So if I pray for brokenness, I've got to surrender. And if I'm surrendered I've got to obey.
And in the Great Paradox I think this might be the only way to life. This death to myself, and to my dreams is the only way I can be part of a greater dream and a greater plan. It's life, this little death and it begins with brokenness.
So Lord,
I surrender all,
All to thee my Precious Savior
I surrender all
Break my heart for the city...And just so you know I'll follow you even if it means we adopt 15 kids from Sierra Leone and live in a cardboard box in Timbuktu.
I've been praying, "God break my heart for the city. Give me eyes to see what you see and a heart that breaks for the things that break your heart. Help me to be able to handle what I see."
But I really, really don't want a broken heart.
A broken heart has always predicated surrender and obedience in my life.
A broken heart has always led me to the place where I say, "Not my will, but yours be done."And next thing I know I'm off to Africa...literally.
If I pray, "God break my heart for the city" I'm afraid that I'll end up a foster parent - or adopting a sibling group from Sierra Leone - or giving up my comfortable suburban life for a duplex in the inner city. It'll be messy, and costly I guarantee it.
Back in the days when I went to Baptist Summer Camp we would end each evening at with "chapel". Every night at chapel there would be an alter call. We would sing the old hymn, " I surrender all, all to thee my precious Savior, I surrender all. " Over - And Over - And Over - And Over....until the prescribed number of campers came forward to "rededicate their lives to Jesus".
One of the guys from our church (Kurt Owens you were a hero) finally discovered that if you went forward to "rededicate" you could get out before the rest of the kids and be first to buy candy from the snack canteen. I think that that year there were an unprecedented number of kids who "rededicated their lives to Jesus". Coincidentally, they happened to be the same kids who got all the grape pop before they ran out at the canteen.
Anyway, while praying my obligatory "break my heart for the city" prayer the words to that old camp hymn came back to me.
I surrender all
All to thee my Precious Savior
I surrender all.
But the version I've been singing these days goes differently,
I surrender most,
Most to thee my Precious Savior,
as long as it doesn't cost too much"
It loses something doesn't it? Okay everything. If Jesus can't have my whole heart it doesn't really count.
The thing is brokenness and surrender go hand in hand.
Brokenness, surrender and obedience are an inseparable trio.
So if I pray for brokenness, I've got to surrender. And if I'm surrendered I've got to obey.
And in the Great Paradox I think this might be the only way to life. This death to myself, and to my dreams is the only way I can be part of a greater dream and a greater plan. It's life, this little death and it begins with brokenness.
So Lord,
I surrender all,
All to thee my Precious Savior
I surrender all
Break my heart for the city...And just so you know I'll follow you even if it means we adopt 15 kids from Sierra Leone and live in a cardboard box in Timbuktu.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Culottes
Homeschool denim jumper ...applique farm animals to be added for a customized look.
culotte slip
fashion forward denim culotteSome of you may not be familiar with this wardrobe essential. I say its high time you are introduced to this seasons must have item. Yes, it's: Culottes. I know it looks sophisticated and French, but please don't pronounce it that way. It must be pronounced in good old-fashioned midwestern American.
"What is this lovely garment?", you ask. Well, if you'd grown up attending Baptist summer camp you wouldn't have to inquire. You'd know. This was standard issue "casual" conservative Baptist ware. Oh, we were so cutting edge, daring to wear something that would perhaps reveal a knee cap.
Now I was apparently risque because I never wore the culotte slip. Heaven knows how transparent those thick twill culottes can sometimes be. I must have shocked the old fuddy-duddy camp directors - it's a wonder that the didn't send me home for immodesty.
The other night I randomly surfed across several websites hocking their modest Christian clothing. I clicked, because I'm a sucker. Now, Hubby was already asleep beside me in bed, and I woke him up with my giggles. He so did not get why "culottes" were funny. But then he didn't grow up attending summer camp with the General Association of Regular Baptists.
Every time I think about culottes I laugh - out loud - to myself. No one else thinks it's funny.
And I thought my Baptist roots were all for not...How wrong I was. Even on the darkest, most depressing day all I have to do is pull up an image of this French sounding fashion travesty and I smile.
Don't even get me started on the homeschool jumper.
Doodles
I'm a world class doodler. I'm not bragging; it's just true. There's the average doodler, and then there is me.
Unfortunately for me, most of my elementary school teachers didn't see it that way. They saw it as evidence of my spacing out in class...which was probably true, but entirely beside the point. They missed the ART in my twirls and wiggles; they missed my self-expression.
The understanding teachers just ignored the marks I made on the margins. The "others" (as I like to call them) were annoyed to no end by my self-expression on the edges of my papers. I'm happy to report that I have fully recovered from the emotional scars they left.
But some people, they spend their life on the margins. Every mark they make on the world is, at best, ignored and at worst disdained.
I have what the professionals call ODSOJ - what is commonly referred to by lay people as an over developed sense of justice. So, as I watched the opening ceremony for the summer Olympics I couldn't help being distracted by all the money they spent on the production. I happen to have reliable first hand accounts of the orphan situation in China. There are so many abandoned children it's hard to wrap my brain around the numbers. And these little girls and boys live in squalor. Most of them have no hope of escape. They will grow up in institutions. Some will live their entire lives in institutions.
They are on the margins. Ignored. Disdained.
The inherent beauty and value in their lives will never be appreciated. They will never be seen. Never valued. Never loved.
And so many times their souls shrivel up like a little rose blossoms cut too early from the bush. What could have been lovely, what had the potential for beauty, never became.
Never becomes.
And the margins become dark and bitter. It's so hard to find loveliness there.
But it's there. There in the margins is a child, or a woman or an elderly person valued by God and beautiful in their own right.
If only...
Unfortunately for me, most of my elementary school teachers didn't see it that way. They saw it as evidence of my spacing out in class...which was probably true, but entirely beside the point. They missed the ART in my twirls and wiggles; they missed my self-expression.
The understanding teachers just ignored the marks I made on the margins. The "others" (as I like to call them) were annoyed to no end by my self-expression on the edges of my papers. I'm happy to report that I have fully recovered from the emotional scars they left.
But some people, they spend their life on the margins. Every mark they make on the world is, at best, ignored and at worst disdained.
I have what the professionals call ODSOJ - what is commonly referred to by lay people as an over developed sense of justice. So, as I watched the opening ceremony for the summer Olympics I couldn't help being distracted by all the money they spent on the production. I happen to have reliable first hand accounts of the orphan situation in China. There are so many abandoned children it's hard to wrap my brain around the numbers. And these little girls and boys live in squalor. Most of them have no hope of escape. They will grow up in institutions. Some will live their entire lives in institutions.
They are on the margins. Ignored. Disdained.
The inherent beauty and value in their lives will never be appreciated. They will never be seen. Never valued. Never loved.
And so many times their souls shrivel up like a little rose blossoms cut too early from the bush. What could have been lovely, what had the potential for beauty, never became.
Never becomes.
And the margins become dark and bitter. It's so hard to find loveliness there.
But it's there. There in the margins is a child, or a woman or an elderly person valued by God and beautiful in their own right.
If only...
Run to win...
Yesterday was Olympics Day at our house. We've been doing a little unit study on the history of the Olympic Games, and yesterday we hosted our own summer games in the back yard. Here is a live action photo of E competing in the ever popular obsticale course competition.
This is our verse for the week:
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize. Run is such a way as to get the prize. I Corinthians 9:24
Which reminds me, have you been watching Michael Phelps? That guy is crazy good. He was born with a talent that I cannot even imagine. But you know that's not enough...talent is only a peice of equation. You've got to have drive - a desire to succeed, and the will to perservere through the long hours of practice. It takes discipline and determination.
I'm just not cut out to be an Olympic athelete. I don't have the talent or drive.
But I am in a race...and I want to live in such a way as to win.
So I probably should not be blogging now...
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Tootsies
BUFF
Beautiful
I changed the template for my blog. Did you notice? Unfortunately for me and subsequently for you my technical savvy is somewhat limited. I've cropped and wiggled this picture around but I can't get it to fit the header. It's times like these that make me want to beat my head against the wall, or my laptop.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
#250
This is my 250th post, which I've cleverly entitled #250.
I mostly started blogging because my husband said I should. He said it'd be good for me, and he was right. Does he know me or what?
So, our church is doing this thing where we're supposed be praying for God to break our hearts for the city for 28 days. Let me clarify: we're supposed to pray for 28 days that God would break our hearts forever. I actually missed the sermon that night, so I'm not sure why 28 is the magic number. Never the less I have been faithfully, if begrudgingly, praying. I'm feeling sorta so-so about the broken heart deal. I've had a broken heart. It sucks.
So far here are my revelations. #1 - I don't get out much. Homeschooling 3 kids while trying to keep a toddler from tearing apart my house is about all I can handle. And when I am out I'm usually way too sidetracked trying to make sure that none of my children are running in front of cars etc. I hardly notice other people. This doesn't feel quite right to me, but I don't have any solutions.
#2 - This orphan care thing just won't go away for me. I keep getting sucked back in. The other day I ended up on a website that did photo-listing for all the waiting kids in Colorado. Waiting kids are kids who's birth parents have had their rights terminated; they are legally free for adoption and are wards of the state. But for whatever reason, no one has adopted them. There are a lot of waiting kids in Colorado, a lot just in Adams county. There are tons more in Denver. This breaks my heart. It just shouldn't be.
But what am I to do?
We cannot possibly adopt them all. I mean we in the singular sense, as in Hubby and me. But we, the collective we, as in the body of Christ, should. We are without excuse. Okay, that's not technically true. There are lots of good reasons not to adopt. But ultimately, they're lame, when it's a kid's life we're talking about. And not everyone is called to adopt. But some people are, and don't becuase, well becuase they have lame excuses.
So what's my lame excuse? Why am I unwilling to engage in the lives of these orphans living among us? Maybe adoption isn't the answer for us now, but orphan care is ultimately everyones responsiblity. I am not exempt.
I mostly started blogging because my husband said I should. He said it'd be good for me, and he was right. Does he know me or what?
So, our church is doing this thing where we're supposed be praying for God to break our hearts for the city for 28 days. Let me clarify: we're supposed to pray for 28 days that God would break our hearts forever. I actually missed the sermon that night, so I'm not sure why 28 is the magic number. Never the less I have been faithfully, if begrudgingly, praying. I'm feeling sorta so-so about the broken heart deal. I've had a broken heart. It sucks.
So far here are my revelations. #1 - I don't get out much. Homeschooling 3 kids while trying to keep a toddler from tearing apart my house is about all I can handle. And when I am out I'm usually way too sidetracked trying to make sure that none of my children are running in front of cars etc. I hardly notice other people. This doesn't feel quite right to me, but I don't have any solutions.
#2 - This orphan care thing just won't go away for me. I keep getting sucked back in. The other day I ended up on a website that did photo-listing for all the waiting kids in Colorado. Waiting kids are kids who's birth parents have had their rights terminated; they are legally free for adoption and are wards of the state. But for whatever reason, no one has adopted them. There are a lot of waiting kids in Colorado, a lot just in Adams county. There are tons more in Denver. This breaks my heart. It just shouldn't be.
But what am I to do?
We cannot possibly adopt them all. I mean we in the singular sense, as in Hubby and me. But we, the collective we, as in the body of Christ, should. We are without excuse. Okay, that's not technically true. There are lots of good reasons not to adopt. But ultimately, they're lame, when it's a kid's life we're talking about. And not everyone is called to adopt. But some people are, and don't becuase, well becuase they have lame excuses.
So what's my lame excuse? Why am I unwilling to engage in the lives of these orphans living among us? Maybe adoption isn't the answer for us now, but orphan care is ultimately everyones responsiblity. I am not exempt.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Pizza Soup
One of the irritating things about being gluten free is you can't just heat up a can of Campbells for lunch. 99.9% of canned soup manages to cram some kind of gluten into it. But, I've discovered that homeade soup is way yummier, and usually pretty easy. Not to mention cheap. Cheap is good.
On the road to this discovery I happened upon a delicious Creamy Tomato Pesto recipe. It's one of my favorites, but my kids won't touch it. Until today.
My sister is brilliant with kids; she always has been. It's a gift. And she is the one who taught me this trick. Never ever ever serve tomato soup. Always serve pizza soup. It's exactly the same thing. But the spin does the trick. Well, you do have to let the kids sprinkle mozzeralla on it and diced pepperoni. It's also good with croutons or pasta. But those are just extras. The point is that the word pizza works miracles on a kid's appetite. And if it even remotely resembles pizza then its a done deal.
Bub ate 3 bowls.
(And he had no idea I added pureed yellow squash to the recipe. The kid wouldn't touch squash with a 10 foot pole. But I, Wonder Mom, had cleverly disguised it as pizza. )
Creamy Tomato Pesto Soup goes something like this:
- 32 oz. of chicken stock
-1 can of tomatoes with garlic and onions.
-1 BIG can of diced tomatoes.
Puree. Heat. Then add:
1 cup half and half (or, if your husband isn't watching puree 1/2 pack of tofu in with the other stuff. I actually like the tofu better than the half and half - just have to be a little sneaker)
Salt and pepper to taste. ( go long on the salt folks)
Garnish with store bought pesto. (it says 2 T. but I say way more is better)
and sometimes 1 T of sugar helps balance the flavors...
Anyhoo...I think I'm beginning to see why I might not have a future in food blogging. My cooking is usually loosely based on a recipe I saw once. Could tend to confuse...
On the road to this discovery I happened upon a delicious Creamy Tomato Pesto recipe. It's one of my favorites, but my kids won't touch it. Until today.
My sister is brilliant with kids; she always has been. It's a gift. And she is the one who taught me this trick. Never ever ever serve tomato soup. Always serve pizza soup. It's exactly the same thing. But the spin does the trick. Well, you do have to let the kids sprinkle mozzeralla on it and diced pepperoni. It's also good with croutons or pasta. But those are just extras. The point is that the word pizza works miracles on a kid's appetite. And if it even remotely resembles pizza then its a done deal.
Bub ate 3 bowls.
(And he had no idea I added pureed yellow squash to the recipe. The kid wouldn't touch squash with a 10 foot pole. But I, Wonder Mom, had cleverly disguised it as pizza. )
Creamy Tomato Pesto Soup goes something like this:
- 32 oz. of chicken stock
-1 can of tomatoes with garlic and onions.
-1 BIG can of diced tomatoes.
Puree. Heat. Then add:
1 cup half and half (or, if your husband isn't watching puree 1/2 pack of tofu in with the other stuff. I actually like the tofu better than the half and half - just have to be a little sneaker)
Salt and pepper to taste. ( go long on the salt folks)
Garnish with store bought pesto. (it says 2 T. but I say way more is better)
and sometimes 1 T of sugar helps balance the flavors...
Anyhoo...I think I'm beginning to see why I might not have a future in food blogging. My cooking is usually loosely based on a recipe I saw once. Could tend to confuse...
Monday, August 6, 2007
Zucchini
Our garden has started to produce zucchini...lots of them. I sauteed the first one we picked with other veggies and E declared it, "A waste of a perfectly good garden vegetable." He thinks that all zucchini should be turned into bread, or muffins, or cake. Heaven forbid we actually eat our veggies like veggies.
So in an effort not to "waste" anymore zucchini I have turned out a few loaves of yummy bread, and in the meantime discovered a fabulous secret. If you add 1/3 cup of cocoa to your bread recipe suddenly you have a chocolate zucchini bread that tastes suspiciously similar to chocolate cake. And you still slice it so you can eat it for breakfast on account of this technicality. Mmmmm....
Note to the cooks out there: I have a sneaking suspicion that if you heated the oil and then mixed in the cocoa (like mole) you would release the cocoa flavor and end up with a richer cake. Somebody needs to try it!
So in an effort not to "waste" anymore zucchini I have turned out a few loaves of yummy bread, and in the meantime discovered a fabulous secret. If you add 1/3 cup of cocoa to your bread recipe suddenly you have a chocolate zucchini bread that tastes suspiciously similar to chocolate cake. And you still slice it so you can eat it for breakfast on account of this technicality. Mmmmm....
Note to the cooks out there: I have a sneaking suspicion that if you heated the oil and then mixed in the cocoa (like mole) you would release the cocoa flavor and end up with a richer cake. Somebody needs to try it!
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