Day 1

It's the first of October, and I'm greeting this most glorious of mornings WITHOUT COFFEE.

What have I done?!?!?!

Can I just go back to bed and sleep through this day? If only. And of course, I'm the idiot that said, "I think I'll try this for a whole month!"

Yep. Idiot.

So, what's happening, you ask? Why this insanity? Is someone forcing you to do this?!? Davey's so mean!

Oh no. I signed on voluntarily.

That's right. I did this to myself.

I know, honey. I KNOW. But there it is. I signed up for a bible study on fasting from excess (a book called 7 by Jen Hatmaker, you may have heard of it?) and I even knew ahead of time what I was getting in to. So who's the crazy person? Yep. That'd be me.

The thing is, I'm really excited about this study. No, I mean it. Really. Broke as this family is right now, we are still richer than 95% of the world. That right there, THAT is crazy. Because I still lament all the things I want and can't have. Because I want the luxury of being able to go buy whatever I want, whenever I want, just because I want it. To be fair, I do want some practical things. Cold water that actually works would be nice. And one of the reasons we don't have the cold water in our home fixed is because we have spent our money on other things. I have a downright obsession with self-indulgence. Eating out, shopping, junk food, things I don't really need, but just want. Temporary splurges. I don't need any of it.

I have over 700 food items in my kitchen. Right now.

This week I'm supposed to start counting all my clothes. I'm terrified.

This is all wrong. This needs to change. This consumer-driven me me me has got to go.

I want to really hear from God in this. I know we are excessive, indulgent, and wasteful. I want to learn to be a good steward of things. Less bratty, spoiled American.* More Jesus.

SO here I am. October 1st. No coffee. Sweet Jesus, help me!!



*please understand that I write this as an American living well below poverty level in this country. We have 4 kids, for the love! This problem of American consumerism and selfishness is not just for the wealthy. The poorest in our nation are still far richer than most of the world. We have access to food, clean water. We have tvs and smartphones and cars and shoes on our feet. We are surrounded by wealth and luxury. And we THROW AWAY more food and goods than some countries use in a year. We are terrible stewards of what we've been given, and I fear that some day we will be held accountable.

Hell is for real.

So lately I've been thinking a lot about hell.


Say whaaaaaat, now?!?!

Yep. Hell. The bad place. H-E-Double-hockey-sticks.

I'm sure you're wondering why. Why would I want to think about Hell? What kind of barbaric person even believes in Hell, these days? What kind of barbaric god would condemn people to Hell, anyway?!?! Why are we even talking about this?!? God is LOVE, man. Don't bring that judgement around here.

This past week, I saw a video floating around the interwebs depicting a sweet, tearful young woman, a self-professed Christian, calling out a street evangelist because he dared to talk about Hell. And that's not the kind of god people need, she said. You're driving people away, she said. You're breaking my heart. You're just being mean. And the people in the crowd were eating it up. Jeering, ridiculing, cheering on this well-meaning, sensitive young woman. I'm sure she meant well. I try to lead people to Christ by the way I live my life, she said. Not by judging them, or being mean to them.

And this is not an uncommon attitude. There are lots of christians who would have felt the offense of the street preacher's message. That without a Savior, we are going to Hell. It's offensive. It's also the Gospel.

I remember being taught as a teenager that the best way to reach people for Christ was by the way I lived my life. By showing people God's love. Butbutbut... If I'm sitting here being a smiley, happy, loving Christian, but never once warn the people around me that they are going to die and go to Hell without Jesus, how is that loving them? HOW DO I SHOW PEOPLE GOD'S LOVE IF I DON'T WARN THEM ABOUT DEATH?

How do I sit on the plane, wearing my parachute, and not tell everyone around me that the PLANE IS GOING DOWN?!?

And if I am offering them the parachute, without telling them WHY they need it, why would they take it from me, or bother to put it on?!?

WHAT IS THE POINT OF THE GOSPEL IF NOT TO SAVE US FROM HELL?

Jesus didn't die to make us all happy, so we could feel warm and squishy and talk about love. Jesus DIED because if he didn't, we would have to spend ETERNITY separated from God. We (all of us!) are so filthy on our own, that God, in His perfect holiness can't even look at us. But he created us to be with him. So what's a big, mean ol' God to do? He had the nerve to send His perfect, blameless son to this earth, to pay the penalty for our crimes, to take on all our filth, so that we could be saved from Hell. What. A. Jerk. Can you believe this guy?!?


Here's the deal. Hell is for real. It's the horrible, awful final death and separation from God for ALL of eternity. It's kind of the whole point of this salvation business. The whole gospel hinges on the truth that Hell is for real. If it wasn't, then Jesus went through some really awful shit for nothing.


The Gospel is offensive. It just is. It's hard to say and hard to hear.People hate it. They really do. In fact, if they don't, you're probably not telling it right. No one wants to hear that we have all sinned and fall short of the glory of God. No one wants to hear that the wages of sin is death. No one wants to know that they are a big ball of messed-up that without God doesn't stand a chance. But if we're not telling them, then we're not loving them. And God is LOVE, man. He really is.

Somebody get me off this thing called "love"....

(I love obscure 90's movie references :))

My girls are in VBS this week. Their very first time being old enough to participate and understand. It’s so cool to see my kids learning about Jesus’ love, for real, on their own level, in a way that they can really understand. They’re coming home every night chattering about Bible stories. Punkin loves all the weird animals (she even got to help hold a really big snake!) Maezie sings and dances her little heart out.

 

This week has been all about love (and weird animals!), learning that Jesus loves us, no matter what. If we are different, if we’re alone, if we’re scared, even if we do wrong, Jesus still loves us. This is what my children are learning. This is what I want them to know and live and be. This is good stuff. Basic Christian stuff.

 

But it’s got me thinking – Just how well do I understand, or even live this idea of Jesus’ unconditional love? This is a concept I have always had a hard time with. After all, God loves in ways I can’t even begin to understand. This is hard, ya’ll. This is a big deal. This is something that most of us don’t live out every day. It is completely contrary to our nature and the opposite of everything we’ve been told, are being told.

 

We are telling our kids to love no matter what, and then saying “I forgive them, but I won’t let them hurt me again.” Or, “I love them, but I’m keeping my distance. They won’t do that to me a second time.”

 

Jesus told us to love our enemies, to BLESS those that curse us. To turn the other cheek. Ouch. Do we even think about what that really means? Doesn’t it mean that even though that jerk smacked me in the face I’m supposed to pick myself right back up and let him do it again? And again and again and again? 70 times 7, right? Where do we draw the line? Is there a line to draw? After all, does God draw a line with us? How many times do we slap him in the face, and yet he not only forgives, but forgets? Takes us in with unconditional love that is so beyond our comprehension. It’s our first instinct to think that if someone hurt us we need to protect ourselves from allowing that to happen again. To say “You got me once, but no more.” In fact, we’re told repeatedly by everyone around us that that is the mark of a strong person.

 

But what if it’s not?

 

 Maybe it takes an even stronger person to say, “I know you hurt me, but I’m still here. I love you and I’m not moving.”

Because that’s what God does for us. Every single time. Over and over again. And if that’s how he loves us, then isn’t that how we’re supposed to love?

I don’t know about you, but this is not what I was taught. There are people in my own family that I have been told were “toxic”, and to limit my time or interaction with them. Really? Is that how we love them? And this isn’t even our enemies.

This is our friends, our family.

 

People in our church.

 This is a long shot from loving our enemies.

We can’t even love each other.

This is not the love that Jesus taught in the gospels.

So how do we love like THAT? What exactly does that look like?

It seems to me that it looks an awful lot like weakness. Like letting ourselves get hurt over and over again, and going back for more. Like letting someone “take advantage” of us, and giving them our cloak also.

I know, right?

That kind of love sounds like a crap deal on the giving end. But seeing as how while Jesus was dying a horrific death on a cross, we were all spitting in his face (and often still do), we owe him this at least.

To love like he did.

To keep going back for more.

 To take the hits and keep on going.  Rocky Balboa kind of love. Get back up. Take the hit. Keep on loving. Let them hit you again.

 

Because at the end of the day, it’s not about what they do to us, but what we’ve done for Jesus.

 

I know this love thing goes a lot deeper, and that I’ve only just scratched the surface, but it needs scratching, ya’ll. It does no good to teach our children about Jesus’ love, and then live the opposite.

 

70 times 7 is an awful lot. I bet our cheeks will get really sore. But please, please, PLEASE – when we feel like getting offended, getting our feelings hurt, or even truly getting hurt, let’s remember that the Jesus who DIED for you and me died for them, too, and that he wants us to love them with the same fervor and depth that he does.

After all, we hurt Him just as often. And He keeps coming back for more.

 

And that same love that we’re supposed to show to everyone is what we can rest in when we’ve been hurt.

Over and over again.

 

And where we can go to get the strength to keep loving, even though it’s completely against our nature.

 

And I know that right about now you’re thinking – “Wow, this sounds an awful lot like you’re telling me to stay in an abusive situation and just keep taking the beating. What about MY happiness? What about my safety?!”

But here’s the thing. God doesn’t promise us happiness.

Or success.

Or even safety.

But he does say things like “count it all joy when you are persecuted because of me.”

He does promise us that we will be with him forever in his kingdom.

 And that’s our ultimate goal.

Isn’t it?

 Shouldn’t it be?

Not every one’s mission field is the deep dark jungle where you might die at the hands of ruthless savages. Maybe those savages that we need to love like Jesus are right here at home.

In our homes.

We tend to hold our earthly lives as sacred, when in fact, they’re just a phase. This world is not my home. This body is not the beginning and the end of me. The beginning and the end of me is Christ, and my home is with him. We’ve been promised suffering on the road home. But we’ve also been promised glory when we get there. If we’re too busy chasing comfort and safety in this life, we are trading our reward for a pot of stew.

 

This “love” thing pretty much sucks.

And it’s pretty much the greatest thing in the universe.

I enjoy being a girl

This might sound crazy, but there have been times in my life - ok, most of my life - when I've had to remind myself that I am a girl, and that it's ok. Not in a questioning-my-gender sort of way. I mean, I know I'm a girl, I know what team I play for. I'm talking about girly things, the liking of, and admitting to it. I'm not sure when or how it even started. As a kid I was all about dress-up, and barbies and my little ponies and ohmygosh, strawberry shortcake! But somewhere along the way I got this idea in my head that it wasn't cool to be feminine, that liking girly stuff was ridiculous, and for years I told myself that I'm just not the girly sort. Total. Lie. But because of it I spent years not wearing much make-up, never getting dressed up, or having a "real" haircut, or any of those other things that girly girls do and that I secretly loved but told myself were ridiculous. Then I had a daughter. For the first 8 months of our pregnancy, I was planning a totally neutral nursery, no pink, no frills, no girly stuff. I wasn't that kind of girl. But the more I thought about our daughter, what it meant to have a daughter, the more I moved away from the gender-neutral theme. And then she was born and I was like "use ALL The Pinks!" and I may have even let her wear ruffles and flowers and fuzzy bunnie slippers. Totally different from the girl who had a hard time planning her wedding because really, truly, I had never thought or dreamed of a wedding since I was 12 and Kevin Smith from DC TAlk was going to fall in love with me for my angelic singing voice (so. much. shame!)
Then we had a second daughter, and by then I was even starting to wear pink myself. Because, youknow, when in Rome and all that. Fast forward a few years to our 3rd pregnancy. Something about this one really flipped a switch in me. I found myself craving beauty, all kinds of beauty, girly, earthy, sparkly, natural, unnatural, I wanted it all. Makeup, hair, clothes, grace, ladylike manners, a well-decorated home and a manicure. And for the first time in my life I was really, truly willing to embrace the knowledge that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG with that. I know, I'm a big ol' box full of crazy, right? Don't judge, it was real for me! Once those twins were born, I knew I was ready to make some serious changes, to embrace a side of myself I had ignored for years and told myself never existed. I'm not gonna lie, dropping 30 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight (thank you, twins!) didn't hurt one bit. Looking in the mirror suddenly wasn't akin to water-boarding. I knew I wanted to do something to embrace this new (old) girly side of myself that had finally burst free. SO. I did what every rational person does. I invested in a new business and signed up to be a Mary Kay beauty consultant. Me. The girl who "doesn't even wear make-up." Because, HELLO. I love make-up. I love colors and making my face pretty. Disclaimer - this doesn't mean you'll see me sporting blue eyeshadow any time soon. I'm still me. I still like the nuetral, natural look. Just with a little pizazz and a dab of lip gloss. Second disclaimer - yes, I recognize that my face is pretty without make-up, that we ladies don't need beauty products to make ourselves lovely and that true beauty comes from within. I get that. BUT. We ladies also love expressing that beauty outwardly. Make-up, hair, clothing - those are just different forms of expression. And I am so ready to express myself!!!
This is hard for me, because this is an area where I feel so vulnerable. But I want to spread the beauty love, like a beauty ambassador, to all my lady friends. Because surely I'm not the only one who has struggled with the idea that girly-ness is ok. Am I? Maybe? Well, I still want to share beauty with all the lovely women around me. Not just make-up. Real beauty. Maybe that means getting together for a facial or some pampering, or trying out a new shade of eyeshadow. Maybe while we are at it we can share a cup of coffee and girl talk. It seems like it's a place to start, at least. And I'm so ready to start.


Oh, and also - family of 6! So much fun!

The waiting game

also titled: I hate waiting.


There's nothing worse than that feeling of waiting for something to happen, knowing that it IS going to happen, though you're not really sure when, but sometime, however you have NO CONTROL over just exactly when it's going to happen, so all you can do is wait. Even worse is when you get the news that the thing you're waiting for could happen ANY TIME NOW, but it's just not happening yet.

I totally blame my doctors for my present state of frustration.

After all, they're the ones who told me, a WEEK AGO, that the twins could be here any time now really, because I've already started dilating and Ruby is head down and active labor could start any. minute. now. Cue a long, long , loooooong week of waiting, hoping, expecting, etc. They made it even worse by telling me on Thursday that I was dilated even further and 50% effaced and the twins could be here ANY MINUTE.

But it's  Monday. And they're not here.

I have walked, jumped, eaten spicy food, prayed, deep cleaned my house, walked some more, eaten more spicy food, prayed some more, deep cleaned some more, cried, begged, pleaded, and tried just about everything else to get my labor jumpstarted, and it is not happening. It's just not.

Despair.

It totally doesn't help that I'm impatient by nature, and that I'm pretty much over being unable to, you know, bend over, or touch my toes, or get in and out of the tub without help. Or hold my big kids in my lap (what lap?). Or roll over in the bed. Or drive. Or. Or. Or. The list could go on forever.

Also - I'm just ready to meet these little buggers. Truth be told, I'm a little bit excited about the challenge of raising twins, and I want to get to it already. I know. Crazy, right? It's how I roll.

But they aren't here yet. And I'm waiting. I hate waiting.


So if you think about it, throw a little prayer up for me over the next few days, and hope with me that these twins will decide to get their act together already and stop keeping their mama waiting. Please and thankyou!

in the kitchen

The kitchen is my sanctuary. It's the one place in the house I can go and get blissfully lost in the work I'm doing. Maybe it's because the kids know that if they will just leave mom alone for a bit, something yummy is coming. Maybe they sense that I need, NEED the catharsis of making SOMETHING. Maybe it's the combination of both, because they sure have a fit when I try to make anything that isn't edible. Either way, the kitchen is my special, happy place. I work out my creative urges, and release some stress in the process. Bread-making probably tops the list of my favorite kitchen-time activities. I enjoy the timelessness of it, the nostalgia, the sense that I am tied to the past, to my ancestors, to women everywhere throughout history that have worked out their frustrations (and fed their families) on a lump of dough. In fact, I've gotten downright ritualistic about it. I wear my Nonnie's apron, gifted to me by my grandfather this past winter. I stir the dough with my grandma's wooden spoon, old and showing who knows how many years of use. I cover the dough with my Ga-Ga's tea towel. It's stained and it has a few holes and has seen better days, but I love it. If I ever get my hands on an antique wooden dough bowl, I might actually swoon. Though I have never swooned. Except when I was 14 months pregnant and Davey was getting his eyebrow stitched back together. But I digress. The point is that I love the feeling that each one of those beautiful ladies is there with me, represented in the treasured items that I'm fortunate enough to have had passed on to me. And in the art of cooking, which they passed down to me, and I'm so fortunate to have learned from them. I look forward to passing this down to my own girls some day, so that they can make their escapes to the kitchen and commune with their past.

(Just the other night, Davey made mac and cheese with the girls. They pulled their tiny chairs up to the stove, put on their cute little aprons (Punkin made very sure that Daddy wore an apron, too) and helped to boil and stir and mix. Since that night they've made mac and cheese at least twice, and every time, Punkin will not get started until they are all wearing their aprons. She may look like her Daddy, but there's a lot of Mama in there, too. :)

A year of Passion.

So. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything. 2013 was a long, strange, crazy year. Definitely not all bad, it’s just that, frankly, I don’t remember half of it. Maybe that’s because so very much happened. I started working at a really great little bakery, only to find out 3 weeks later that I was pregnant (and while on a camping trip, no less.) Davey got a second job working as a part-time youth minister at our church, and suddenly, life was a whirlwind. There was No. Time. No time for anything. Somehow we made it through summer and fall and bam! Christmas and New Year’s was here, and now it’s February 2014 and I don’t even know how I got here. I do know that we found out at the first of the year that we are having twins, who should be here sometime in the next month or so. A boy and a girl. So exciting. So overwhelming. But it’s been a year of overwhelming, so really, what else is new? I also know that I came into this new year feeling like something really had to give – the whirlwind was just too much – the piles of laundry and dirty dishes I couldn’t keep up with, the hubby I never got to see, all the things that broke (and I do mean ALL the things. Like, EVERYTHING broke this year), and all the stuff that just piled up and I didn’t even care because I was buried in my own pile of overwhelmed and pregnant. And then came TCTC (that’s the Tennessee Christian Teen Convention) and there I was, wanting to go but having a meltdown because we had just found out about the twins and we were leaving in 3 hours and I hadn’t packed and didn’t even know where I was going to sleep and I was just tired and did I mention overwhelmed? But I muscled thru, and Davey gritted his teeth (he's been doing that a lot l, and we went, and it was wonderful. We ended up with a room together (so nice!) and suddenly, I found time to relax, take a deep breath, see old friends, and remember what it felt like to be somewhat human again. And suddenly the last 8 months of Overwhelmed weren’t going to cut it anymore. During one of the last sessions of the convention, the speaker challenged us to ask God for a word for the year, and my heart started hollering. I’d actually been looking for that word for two weeks or more. The One Word that would fight the Overwhelmed. And so I asked. And boom. There it was. The elusive thing I had been looking for, that I needed to get through whatever this year has to bring. That I had been lacking, losing for so long that I had forgotten what it even felt like. And yes, when the Word hit me in the chest, I cried. It was very Pentecostal up in that convention center for a few minutes. Davey just gave me that “awww, you’re so pregnant and hormonal!” squeeze that I’ve been getting A LOT lately and asked me what started the tears, and I managed to choke out that I had found my Word. And? That word is PASSION. That thing that keeps us pushing forward when we love something, when we really want something, when that something is so important that everything else fades. I used to be passionate about lots of things - crafting, cooking, decorating, taking a shower, my husband, my kids - but my passion for just about everything had completely evaporated over the last few years of babies and work and stress and just trying to get by. A life without passion is no life at all, but it was what I’d been living for so long. Fear and exhaustion and TOO MUCH had choked my Passion and buried it so deep that I wasn’t even sure I could find it again. Some days I’m still not sure if I have. But now that I know what’s missing, it gives me something to work for, and the apathy, the Overwhelmed, is getting smaller. Now, I’m not gonna lie. I’m still pregnant with twins, and exhausted, and I spend a lot of time just laying on the couch, but gosh darn it all, I’m doing it with Passion! I took on a fun crafting challenge - crocheting a 365-day scarf (I only have to crochet one line a day, so how hard can that be?!) - and I figure it’s going to take a lot of Passion to raise twins and a 3 year old AND a 4 year old, and no, every day is not going to be perfect and the Overwhelmed will creep in and I’ll want nothing more than to crawl into bed and wait for my kids to grow up and take care of themselves already, but then the passion will speak up, and remind me that I love these crazy kids, my beautiful family, and I’ll get out of bed, maybe even take a shower, and keep pushing on, because that’s what you do when you feel passionate about something. You give it all you’ve got, even when what you’ve got isn’t much. It's still enough. So. Here’s to a year of Passion.

what we're eating: then and now

The last few years, since moving to the country and starting to grow our own stuff, and especially since we now live right up the road from the Mennonite farm market, our food choices have been changing. It's not some big political thing, or even necessarily a conscious effort, just the byproduct of living in an area where we are surrounded by fresh, real food. Last night I made one of our favoritest of favorite meals  - Jerk Chicken, and it struck me how much that meal has evolved lately. As recently as a few months ago, Jerk Chicken for us looked like this:
Boneless/skinless chicken breasts
McCormick Caribbean Jerk Seasoning (4 tbsp or so)
olive oil
soy sauce
vinegar
canned corn
stovetop stuffing

This was THE meal. Every time. Our favoritest meal.

Here's what it looked like last night:
boneless/skinless chicken breasts
homemade jerk paste (peppers, spices, and a dash of vinegar)
fresh pineapple
soy sauce
honey
olive oil
saute'd squash, cabbage and onions
red beans
rice seasoned with a pinch of allspice

Nowadays, this is the meal that I crave fortnightly. Especially the cabbage. I'm on a real cabbage kick. But look at the difference in the ingredients. The Old Way always left me feeling bloated and yucky, but the flavor was just so good. Don't get me wrong, it still is. But the New Way. Oh, the New Way! It's heavenly. The change in sides came about because of my aforementioned love of cabbage, and our small town's very, very short-lived Caribbean restaurant - which served basically the same sides that I do now. The allspice rice was an epiphany I had a few weeks ago. The pineapple happened when we added it to chicken skewers and grilled them (by far, the BEST), and now I just throw the pineapple and chicken in the oven with the paste, soy sauce, honey and oil for a pretty easy, and also pretty healthy evening meal. And no fake food or processed junk!

Click here to see the jerk paste recipe I use. I substitute whatever hot peppers I have a bunch of for the habaneros and it's still amazing.

family heirlooms

I told myself I wouldn't apologize for not having posted anything in, what, 6 months? So I'm not sorry. So there. But, dang, it's been a while.
Truly I haven't written anything because I haven't wanted to. Because I'm a big, blubbering baby and the last six months have been really emotionally trying. My gramps had a stroke-like illness last August, and the whole family has had to adjust to the changes. The task of cleaning out and packing up his old home fell to me and my mom, and it has been one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my life. But I've also gotten the opportunity to really get to know my gramps in a way I hadn't before. I'd much rather he still be the crazy old guy determined to climb up and fix his own roof (I seriously believed until last fall that he would kick the bucket at 90-something by falling off a roof), but this time spent with him has been really precious.
Now, anybody who knows me knows that I'm either the best or worst person for the sentimental task of cleaning out someone's house. The best because I won't get rid of anything that could have the least bit of family history or emotional attachment. The worst because I won't get rid of anything that could have the least bit of family history or emotional attachment. For several weeks this spring my house looked like a storage locker. I've since been able to let go of some things I couldn't find family homes for (not everyone in my family shares my over-sentimentality) but I find myself holding on to the strangest things. Things like hankerchiefs. All my life my Gramps has had a hankerchief in his pocket. So when I found a stack of badly stained hankies, I kept them. And now I can think of my Gramps every time I use them to clean around the house. It might not be everyone's idea of a quality keepsake, but it works for me.

bacon

Some days are just good days. Not because of anything particularly special, but just a collection of little things. Like a Starbucks coffee on a grey fall day (and no, not a pumpkin something or other.. I may be the only person in the world who doesn't like them, but the fact remains that I do NOT. I much prefer my grande non-fat, no whip peppermint mocha, thanks), and a successful grocery shopping trip where I actually felt like I spent a hundred bucks and got my money's worth. And stopping here:

which is on my way home, and is apparently THE place to go for country hams. Foodie tourists make detours to get their hands on some Benton's ham and bacon. I've driven by it for years, and always thought I should stop, but never quite actually managed to make it happen. I picked up a pound of bacon, soaked up the delicious smoky pork smells, and drooled over the hams and shoulders and jowls and who-knows-what else hanging on racks all around. It was ham heaven, and I left there kicking myself for never having stopped sooner, and for not buying the bulk package of bacon ends and pieces. I also left there thinking about how blessed we are to live in an area where we have access to such amazing food. "Local" food isn't the rage here, it's just here. It's been here for years. Generations. We could actually get about 80% of our groceries from local farmers.. maybe more, but I don't know of anyone selling flour or other grains. Wish I did... that would be great. Either way.. it's great to live in such an agriculturally-minded area. And living down the road from the world's best country hams and bacon isn't too bad either.

just checking in...

3 weeks goes by so fast. This happens to me every fall... I get all excited, because yay! Fall is here! and then I get all wrapped up in.. whatever.. and bam! it's gone. And I'm sad.

But I'm trying really hard not to do that this year.

I'm trying to be present, to not miss things going on around me. So instead I miss things like checking in on my blog. Or doing the laundry. And then I resolve not to miss those things either, which in turn means I miss something else. Being me is exhausting.

Seriously, though. I really am trying much harder .. to pay attention, which is oh, so hard for me to do. To make things a little more manageable, I gave myself a schedule. Or rather, I started making myself pay attention to the schedule I made for myself about a year ago. It's a simple schedule - Mondays I do this, Tuesdays I do this, and so on, and so forth, but it helps, A LOT, in those moments where I'm really struggling to keep my head above water, wandering aimlessly around my destroyed-by-toddlers home and wondering what the heck I was doing, or supposed to be doing. That usually ended with me overwhelmed and seeking the soothing mindlessness of Pinterest, where I'd see some awesome something or other I wanted to do, and then jump up, start another mess, only to promptly forget about it because someone is screaming about something. Nope. Not any more. Now, I just think to myself, "This is Thursday. Today I clean the girls' rooms. That's what I was doing." And then I plop down in front of the computer and lose myself in Pinterest. Sure, it's not perfect. But it's helping. Our house looks a little less desperate these days, and I feel a little less manic. I'll take it.

So, all that to say that I'm really trying to enjoy fall this year. I actually got (most of) our Halloween decorations up in a timely manner. I've made soup 3 times already. I got to wear my fuzzy boots in the morning. This weekend, I have big plans for a bonfire, and hot cider, something, anything pumpkin related (most likely muffins. Who doesn't love muffins?) and all of this is much easier to do because I know what is (for the most part) expected of each day. Sure, some days I get thrown for a loop because the car dies, or the girls choose to have supreme-o meltdowns at exactly the same time (every time!), but that's life. My new (old) schedule is my rock, my fortress of solitude in the midst of the swirling chaos of life with toddlers.

What I'm saying is, I love my schedule. and I love fall. The end.

weekly goals

So this is a day late, due to our camping trip over the weekend, but it's time to lay out some goals for this first week of fall (hooray for fall, by the way!), and at least try to get them done.

For starters, I need to clean up the camping aftermath, but that's kind of a given.

I'm STILL trying to get some homemade mozzerella done. This really needs to happen.

I also need to make yogurt. Homemade yogurt is so good.

I've got a pile of peppers (all kinds of peppers!) to do something with. Need to do something with the last of the tomatoes as well.

I really, REALLY need to shear Cirrus, before the weather gets too cold. Don't worry, I've got an old wool sweater to put on her if she needs it.

And lastly, it's time to do some serious fall housecleaning.. there's only one  more week til October, and Halloween decorating time!!!!

Speaking of... we stopped at a pumpkin stand on the way home from our camping trip and let Punkin pick out the one she liked best. After much serious deliberation, she picked this one:

Not exactly the traditional choice, but the kid knows what she likes. 

camping with toddlers...

...is like .. uhhh.. nevermind.

Yes. We are crazy. Thanks for asking.

Also - I'd like to apologize to all the other campers who heard me say "Maezie, NO!" or "Maezie, get out of the road!" at least fifteen HUNDRED times. The child is nothing if not persistent.

and cute.

Seriously, though. We took our girls on their very first camping trip this weekend. After a whole lot of thinking and rethinking and wishing we could go to Florida, we decided on Cades Cove. This is usually one of my favorite spots - it's so peaceful, restful, tranquil. Other than the excessive traffic and "bear jams" every 500 yards or so. Still. I've always loved to get out into the woods and walk by a quiet stream, and imagine what it must've been like to actually live there a hundred years ago. I was excited to share this with my girls.

What a perfect place to spend the first day of Autumn!

All things considered, it could have been much worse. While it was definitely not tranquil, or peaceful, or restful, it was good to take the girls out and let them get some camping experience. I firmly believe that they will get better at it with practice (and age). Punkin did great - which wasn't surprising because that kid LOVES to be outside. Maezie learned a lot about boundaries this weekend, and delighted in pushing them. I learned that a firmer parenting hand with my youngest is probably long overdue.

There were a lot of special moments.

There was very little sleep.



Hello, gorgeous.



Bottom line?

I can't wait to go again.

yes, please

end of season

Yeah. So that's our vegetable garden. Under about a foot and a half of water. Oh dear.

So glad our house is on top of a hill.

Just the other day Davey and I were talking about how we'd like to eventually build raised beds up by the house for all of our vegetable gardening needs, and converting all of the lower areas into pasture (animals can be moved in bad weather.. plants - eh, not so much). This morning, that seems even more like a really, really good idea.

Sunday, I went out and picked everything that was ripe in the garden - pretty much a ton of peppers and tomatoes, a dozen eggplants, the last of the shelling beans, and a few pumpkins. I have no idea what this flood will do to the potatoes...  I'm hoping that if the water recedes quick enough that they'll still be diggable. Same for the parsnips and onions. The peppers and tomatoes? Who knows. I think the sunflower heads will be ok if they can get dry - the sun is supposed to make an appearance tomorrow. And oh.. our peach trees!

(Also - we've had crazy rain for 2 days, and somehow, we still have internet. This is big news, folks, since this has been the summer of  "oh,no! It's overcast - bye bye internet! We'll see you in 2 weeks!"
Seriously, I have no idea why it's working through this mother of all rainstorms but didn't work every other time we had a little sprinkle. It's a great mystery of the universe, apparently, because the satellite company can't explain it either.

Sorry. End rant.)

I'm so thankful this happened at the end of the season, and that we had been totally lazy about planting any winter greens yet. We'll still plant them, because we're eternal optimists, but clearly it won't be happening this week. Instead, it feels like a good week for soup. And bread. Is it too early for a fire in the fireplace? Because I'm so there. Summer is OVER. Minus the whole raging floodwaters thing, I'm pretty excited. It's time to cuddle up on the couch with my snuggie and a cup of something warm while the girls watch Annie for the umpteenth time and wait for the sun to shine again. Maybe make some cookies. Start contemplating fall/halloween decorations (don't worry - I won't actually start decorating til Oct 1st - but it helps to have a plan). It's my time of year - pumpkin and hot cider and sweater time. The other seasons all have their special charms, and I appreciate all of them, but fall - fall is mine. It's when I wake up from the long swelter of summer and feel ALIVE. Unstoppable. It's magic, pure and simple, ya'll.

the herb garden

Lookee, lookee!! I got my paws on a working camera! Finally. So what's the first thing I did when I could at last take pictures again? Why, take some embarrassing shots of my overgrown herb garden to show you, that's what.

 So yeah. That's my "herb garden" from the front. The part people see when they walk up to our front door. Oh the shame. The bushy line running right to left across the bottom is a volunteer pumpkin that came up. We let it do it's pumpkin thing, and it's pretty much taken over the whole yard.

This is my herb garden from the back. This is actually a raised bed, done in cinder blocks, which you can't see for all the grass. There's cilantro blooming there in the center of the photo. There's also sage, horehound, strawberries, lavender, fennel, borage, and some other stuff that you can't see. No one can see it. 'Cept Jesus.

Look! Basil! It managed to beat out the rogue pumpkin and some crazy agressive morning glories for a little place in the sun. Considering that it's had zero attention, other than picking it to make yummy stuff, it's done surprisingly well. 

Oh, look, and there's some dill! The dill also did very well this year. Again, no credit to me. 

 Rosemary. I had to use a machete to find it. Oh dear.

One of the reasons my herb garden is such a mess. We had such horrible luck with pumpkins this year, and this guy came up, and thrived, so I let it be. And it repaid me with general weediness, and butt pumpkins. They're not really butt pumpkins. That's just what Davey likes to call them. They have some other, much more pleasant sounding name for sure, I just can't remember what it is. 

 Truth be told, the herb garden is not a total loss. These are the random flower seeds I threw out into the bare dirt this spring, just to see what would happen.

 Magic happened. That's what.

And look! I'm about to have me some zinnias!

I'll be back soon with more pictures - the critters need a little face-time, too!

weekly goals.

So... yeah. Ummm. This is embarrassing. I didn't accomplish a single solitary goal I set for myself last week. Oh dear.

Here's the deal. We'll just pretend that didn't happen, and focus on all the stuff I DID get done last week.
I made hot sauce from our home-grown peppers - super tasty and recipe to follow soon.
I mowed the lawn with lots of help from Davey.
We got 3 new chickens, promptly lost two, but found one still alive the next morning and hanging out with the rabbits. I named her Lucky.
I actually tried a recipe that I pinned on pinterest (oven-fried chicken... it was actually pretty good)
I spent a lot of time on pinterest.
I pickled beets, peppers, and cucumbers. And burned my fingers on hot peppers. Ouch.
I also made tzatziki sauce and baba ghanouj (the only reason to grow eggplant).
This making things from scratch bit is taking up a lot of my time.
I'm totally ok with it, though.
Davey tilled the cornfield. (ok, so maybe, technically, I didn't actually get this done. But it probably wouldn't have gotten done this week if I hadn't said that it absolutely HAD to get done before he could go play at Baby Falls with all his guy friends. So I'm taking the credit. My game, my rules.)
I watched the Hunger Games and was woefully disappointed in the ending, thinking that that was it.. but then someone told me that it's only the first of 3 movies, so I forgave it. For now.


So, as you can see, I had a week chock-full of good accomplishments. And now for this week's goals:

plant the fall garden
make bagels
make mozzerella
clean the toynado in Punkin's room
tame the jungle growing around our front porch.
list some crafty stuff on Etsy! (I'm getting the use of a real, working camera this week, so that will make this goal a little more accomplishable. Is that even a word? It is now.)
electrify the chicken coop.


I could go on, but I'm afraid to make any more goals for this week, seeing as how my track record is not so good on this so far. I'll consider it a major win if I get even just a few of these things done. Err.. hrmm.. I mean, yeah.. I'm gonna get all this done! I'm a winner! Yeah! Or something like that..

What about the rest of you? What are your goals for this week?

a little update, and some goals for the week

Whew! The last few weeks have been a handful. Mostly in a good way. We've pretty much had no internet access for the last month, so, you know, I've been pretty much a total wreck. I've got a lot of good posts in the works about stuff going on around here, so stay tuned, provided I can avoid any more technological troubles.

Also, I'm not sure what happened, but BOOM, summer's whipped. I mean, it's not quite fall yet, not really, but summer has definitely lost all his chutzpah, and I don't walk out the front door and immediately wither into a sweaty, disgusting mess. Also, I can cook in my kitchen without turning into a sweaty, disgusting mess. I might even be convinced to work out in the garden again now that it will take a little while before I turn into a sweaty, disgusting mess. I'm sure summer still has a couple of hot days or weeks up his sleeve, but the point is, he's losing. It's over. Fall is on her way, and there's no stopping it. Amen.

In other news, I decided pretty much on a whim right this minute, that I am going to start posting some weekly goals on here every Monday, and then report back at the end of the week about what actually gets done and what doesn't. Hopefully this will keep me blogging regularly and getting some projects done. So. Here goes:

This week's goals:

try my hand at making bagels

make mozerella cheese (yes, please!)

get the fall garden planted

roast sunflower seeds

get some crafty stuff photographed and listed on ETSY



Here goes nothin'! What are your goals for the week?

(MIY) teriyaki sauce

(Make it Yourself!)

It's my mama's birthday today, and in honor of that occasion, I'm hosting dinner at my house tonight: jerk chicken, per her request. Davey, myself, and my mama LOVE jerk chicken, in all it's spicy-hot glory. But my dad and gramps are more on the wussy side of the heat spectrum, and voted for something a little less intense. Dad requested teriyaki chicken. For years I used Soy Vey teriyaki sauce, mostly because it's Jewish teriyaki sauce, and how can you not love that?! and also because it had great quality ingredients and yummy flavor. Sadly, grocery stores out here don't carry it, so I decided that this week it was time to make my own. So, I did what I often do in these situations and just sort of guessed at what might make the sweet/savory teriyaki flavor I was looking for. And it couldn't be any easier. Here's the recipe:

Juice of 1 can pineapple (can be rings, chunks, crushed, whatever. In my case, it was chunks)
5-6 chunks pineapple
1/4 cup tropical juice blend, or orange juice. Whatever makes your skirt fly up. I happpened to have both, so I used 'em.
soy sauce to taste
1/2 tsp ginger
2 cloves garlic
1/4 cup brown sugar or honey
1/4 cup sesame oil
splash of rice salad vinegar

run the whole thing thru the blender til the pineapple and garlic are pretty much pulverized, and then add in 1 tsp sesame seeds. It makes the sauce look pretty. This is pretty much my dream sauce, and I'll have a hard time choosing between it and my favoritest favorite jerk chicken tonight. I'm guessing I'll solve this predicament by eating both. It's a cruel world, but I get by.

chicken blues

I knew something was wrong when only 3 chickens greeted me. Looks like a fox (or foxes?) got in last night, my fault because I forgot to close the coop. And of course they got my 3 favorites - the blue wheaten amaracauna rooster, our welsummer hen, and Camilla, with the crooked beak and the plucky attitude. That leaves us with 2 RIR roosters and 1 amaracauna hen. Not promising in terms of egg production. So I guess we start over again. Again.