Kaegan and Gregorian Chants

My cats have very distinct personalities. Distinctly different. Braeya (who is all two) loves to be with me wherever I go. She meets me at the door every time I come home, and when I'm barely inside, she flops over on her back and wants her tummy rubbed. She stays underfoot until she gets her treat (which she promptly disregards to continue following me throughout the house). If I go in a room and close the door, she sits outside until I open it again. When I work on the computer, she sleeps on the couch behind me. When I watch TV, she sleeps beside me. When I work out, she watches. When I go to bed, she finds her way down by my feet and stays there. But she doesn't like to be held. No cuddling.

Kaegan, who is the wise old seven year old, is mostly content to be by himself. He knows Braeya will be with me, and that gives him an enormous break from his energetic sister. He can be found under the bed, in the closet, behind the bathroom door, and probably a handful of other hiding places I don't even know about. He graces me with his presence only when he deems it necessary, but when he does, he loves to love. And bless his precious heart, he always shows up when I'm upset, and as long as I don't make any sudden moves that scare him, he willingly lets me pick him up and hold him for several minutes. He purrs and nudges my head with his face - his version of a hug and kiss.

Last week I had a pretty upsetting day at work and came home completely exhausted and crying. Braeya greeted me and continued her tour of the house, but I sat down and stared. Pretty soon, Kaegan sauntered into the room, came right up to me, cried once, and I picked him up. We probably sat there for ten minutes. I didn't say anything. I just sat and hugged him. And every now and then he'd look up at me, purr a little louder, and nudge me with his nose. And that's what I love about Kaegan. He's just good like that.

Last night I got a phone call from one of my friends...really out of the blue. We ended up talking for two hours - late into the night. I had some things on my mind that were confusing me and he just listened and gave good advice. And when I was most confused of all - he broke out in song. Gregorian chants, actually. Crazy, isn't it? But you know, I started giggling and couldn't stop. And this morning when I woke up (realizing just how much sleep I'd forfeited), I thought Now that is a good friend...one who will stay on the phone forever, letting you make verbal sense of your confusion and when it really gets overwhelming...he'll break into Gregorian chants.

If I can be so bold as to start my "I'm thankful for..." list a week early...these are my picks for today.

Bits for Sunday, November 16, 2008

The church bulletin reminded me this morning that next week is the all-church Thanksgiving lunch…so I pulled out the day planner and scratched notes to come up with a dish or two to make for the carry-in.

We’re smack in the middle of registration season at work, I’m trying valiantly to finish making and signing all my Christmas cards, and I’ve been spending extra time writing lately, so I completely lost all track of time. Thanksgiving is next week!

This year I get to take it easy on Thanksgiving. I’m not the hostess, so my sole responsibility is to assemble the broccoli salad and show up on time with an empty stomach to fully enjoy the turkey and its entourage of treats.

Thinking about Thanksgivings of yore took me back to the year of Thanksgiving disasters. I have shared about this one before, but it happened about five years ago, so chances are, you’ve forgotten about it and I can relive the joy once more.

That year, I was in the middle of a particularly confusing “love life” situation. I use that term very loosely because love wasn’t involved at all, but the whole he-might-like-me-he-might-not-even-care see-saw was enough to drive me crazy. I spent the entire day before Thanksgiving at the neighbor’s house, crying into multiple cups of coffee and rambling incoherently.

When I finally came home, I let my journal take over for the neighbor’s exhausted ear. Mid-written-rant, I happened to notice my unpaid credit card bill sitting on the desk beside me. I vaguely remembered seeing a newer version of a credit card bill in the recent mail deliveries, so I rushed around until I found an unopened envelope I’d tossed aside in the pre-Thanksgiving madness. I ripped it open and sure enough…proof in writing that the bill on the desk had gone unpaid. I now owed for my purchase, plus the late fee and the finance charge.

I had just enough time to get to the bank, transfer money into my checking account, and get to the store to pay my credit card bill before all retail-ville shut down in anticipation of Black Friday. While en-route to the store, I realized I might not have enough gas to even get across town. I stopped to add a little fuel…and the pump didn’t work. Well of course it didn’t!

I went into the station to see if they were experiencing technical difficulties or if I had ceased to possess enough intelligence to pump gas. Three other customers stood in line with me – and we all had the same question. We were advised to move along to the next station for speedy service. At that point, I didn’t care if I had to be towed home. I was not going to another gas station. I drove to the mall on fumes and prayer, only to discover when I got there…my gas cap was standing wide open. Super.

Thanksgiving morning, I got up with a firm resolve to not worry about silly boys, unpaid bills, or empty gas tanks. I busied myself with meal preparations, ready to welcome the faithful few attending our family dinner that year. I lit candles, set the table, played some music, whipped up the food that was my responsibility to make…and waited for life to improve.

Halfway through dinner, I noticed an odd running-water sound. Since all of us were gathered at the table and Kaegan hadn’t mastered the skill of turning on a faucet, I wasn’t sure what to make of this sound. Then I saw it out of the corner of my eye…my red three-wick candle had sprung a leak in the front and a fountain of red wax gushed down the front of the buffet and landed in a puddle on the tan carpet.

And my sister, who was my landlady at the time, sat right there taking it all in.

Oops.

After dinner, everyone sat around talking…eating…watching TV…and I curled up on the floor with a roll of paper towel and my iron, working on that stupid wax puddle. And to top it all off, I broke my thumbnail trying to chip wax out of the wood on the front of the buffet.

So after a year like that, I think I’m content to carry-in to various dinners. It certainly has to be less stressful than being the hostess with the mostest.

Baked Potato Soup

God Bless You, Skyepuppy, for telling me how to rearrange the pictures without losing my mind!!! It worked! :)

Well I don't know what the weather's like where you live, but in Indiana it has settled into day after day of cold and rain. Consequently, the time has arrived to break out the comfort food. This is one of my favorite comfort dishes. I first had this soup at the home of my friends, Jon and Julie. They used to live just around the corner from me, and sometimes on a Friday or Saturday night, they would invite me over for dinner, coffee, and a movie. One evening, Julie made this and it was so tasty...I just had to have the recipe.

It really doesn't take very long to make, and it works well as a leftover. I can probably get five or six meals out of this recipe - depending on how hungry I happen to be each time I dip into it. :) I also love all the colors in the dish. Regular potato soup is so boring in color - but not this one! (And just so you know, "soup" isn't really the right word for this dish. It is extremely thick.)

Recipe:

2 cups of milk
4 Tablespoons of flour
1 bag of shredded cheese
1 bunch of green onions
Bacon Bits
1 cup of sour cream
3 Tablespoons of butter
4 or 5 baked potatoes

Bake potatoes and set aside. Melt butter in large pan on stove. Stir in flour. Add milk and stir at low/medium heat until thickened. Add 2 chopped green onions, 2 Tablespoons of bacon bits, 1 cup of cheese, and the potatoes. Cook until thick - about 10-15 minutes. Add the sour cream and cook and additional 5-10 minutes. Garnish with bacon bits, remaining cheese, and green onions.


You can use whatever blend of cheese you like. I usually use a blend of white and yellow cheese. If the potatoes are very big, four will be plenty. Since the soup is pretty thick anyway, you don't want to have too much extra potato in there. You can use light or fat free sour cream if you want - it works just fine.

I bake the potatoes in the microwave on a dinner plate to save some time. You can bake them in the oven if you work ahead far enough to have that kind of time. When I bake the potatoes in the oven, I wrap them in foil, pierce them on all sides (to keep them from exploding), and bake them for about an hour at 375. (If a fork doesn't slide out easily at that point, I let them bake longer.) My microwave has a baked potato setting, and when I'm doing four potatoes at once, I run the setting twice. I think they end up staying in there about 15 minutes. Don't forget to pierce them before putting them in the microwave too! AND NO FOIL IN THE MICROWAVE!
While they bake, I cut the green onions. I usually chop up about three bunches - which is more than the recipe calls for, but I like the extra color and flavor.
When the potatoes are done cooking, I slice them open to let them cool a bit while the soup begins to cook. The first few times I made this, I didn't touch the potatoes until I was ready to use them and then they were too hot to work with. This step definitely helps!

I use a fairly big stock pot for this - it makes it easier to stir toward the end when everything is in the pot. Once the butter has melted, I add the flour. The flour absorbs the butter pretty quickly and turns into a paste of sorts.

When I add the milk, I smoosh out the little pieces of flour/butter paste that are left. During this step, the soup stays pretty runny, but beware - as you begin to add other things and it starts to thicken, it thickens quickly. Be ready to stir it frequently so it doesn't burn on the bottom!

I admit I don't really measure the cheese, onions and bacon. I just kind of dump in what I think looks good - which is usually a little bit more of each thing than the recipe calls for. But look how colorful! :)

While that part softens and thickens, I start scooping the potato out of the skin. I've found this to be a much easier method than trying to cut them into squares. I just scoop them out with a teaspoon and...

...put them in the pot with everything else. This is the step where things are thickening so quickly that it burns easily on the bottom, so keep stirring! I admit, I don't always let this step go the full 10-15 minutes. The potatoes are already cooked, so if the cheese appears to be melted, I move on.

...Add the sour cream - and I don't let this step cook the full amount of time either (mostly because I'm starving at this point). I just let it cook long enough to warm up the sour cream.

Ta-da!!!! Soup ready to be served!!

I usually add a little dollop of sour cream on top, along with more cheese, bacon bits, and green onion. It really is a very pretty dish to serve.

Smart Girl

I forget the name of this game...kind of like scrabble but without the board. I didn't do very well, but Braeya was very interested in participating.

Bits for Sunday, November 9, 2008

Your word, O Lord, is eternal; it stands firm in the heavens.
Psalm 119:89

I opened my Bible this evening to do my stanza study in Psalm 119, and that was the first verse awaiting me. How appropriate that this verse should immediately follow the weekend I just experienced.

People often ask me if I intend to pursue my master’s degree, and my standard response is I haven’t yet recovered from undergrad, and until I do, I will not be seeking any further degree. I’ve watched many of my friends earn a graduate degree and quite frankly – they exhausted me. Watching them try to juggle work and family and “having a life” with homework and class did not look in any way appealing.

While I cannot be persuaded (presently, anyway) to receive more letters behind my name, I was willing to at least pour more learning into this brain of mine. Therefore, Friday and Saturday I treated myself to a getaway at a writer’s conference. These sorts of events stretch me, because I’m not one to rush (alone) into a mass of people I don’t know and spend a concentrated amount of time learning to fit in with them. Perhaps this is why I write. That can be done alone in a corner of the house with a cup of coffee on the desk and the TV running in the background.

Nevertheless, I loaded the car with a pile of my writing, my day planner, and a large sweet tea and braved an hour on the interstate to attend the conference. I texted one of my friends partway through the weekend, saying something like, “We writers are a strange lot.” She responded that it must be the artist in us. Probably true. The young and the old, the laptop junkies and the prefer-pen-and-paper traditionalists, the oft published and those who wanted to see if this whole writing thing was really for them, the suits and the sweatpants, the coffee drinkers and the bottled-water-only health nuts. We converged in hopes of, as they say in writing land, “honing our craft.”

I sat through six workshops, four general sessions, and one panel discussion, all the while taking notes in the day planner and handouts issued. I found myself as excited to hear what I was doing right as a writer as I was to learn new things.

Most exciting to me was the chance to meet with an editor. I told one of my friends that this sort of thing feels like the American Idol of the writing world. Trying to make those connections with someone who might know someone who might know someone…well, it isn’t easy. I had exactly fifteen minutes to sit at a table with a woman whose name I had chosen at random, praying (literally) that she was the best fit for the type of writing I do. As I waited in line for her to finish the appointment before me, I worried about my outfit – since it suddenly occurred to me that this was a job interview of sorts and I felt dreadfully underdressed for the occasion. I scrambled to think of words to say that would leave a positive impression.

Fortunately my moment arrived before I had a chance to fall apart completely. I sat down, listened to her tell about her role in the industry and then shared with her the type of writing I do. A bit hesitantly, I pulled out my binder of sample writing and tried not to look too pained as I watched for her reaction.

She liked it!

If I’d learned nothing the entire weekend, that moment of approval was worth every moment on the interstate and every dollar of the conference fee. I have no idea what will happen from here – but if you’re interested in praying for me about it – I will not turn you away. I have been invited to send her a sample of my work for further review, and that is an incredible opportunity. I’ve been thinking all weekend about which sample I should choose, and I think I have a pretty good idea of what I want to send.

In the final workshop I attended, the facilitator closed with this quote by Lee Roddy:

Write so Heaven will be different.

As the verse in Psalm 119 says, the only Word that stands forever is the Word of the Lord. No matter how much labor I put into the words I write, I know they will one day be gone. But my goal is that the words I write about the Word will fit in with Lee Roddy’s quote.

Pastor Brian, This One is Especially for You

Pastor Brian is especially fond of the story When Bekah Turned Her Hair Neon Orange. Actually maybe he doesn't like the story, but he does like the picture.

So today I have a new hair story. (And yes, I do realize these things should bring me enough embarrassment that I should not share them, but I figure if I can bring a laugh to someone's day, then that is a good thing. And since my ENTIRE OFFICE has laughed, I share....)

Since you already know this anyway, I'll admit it out loud. I'm too vain for my own good. It's one of my flaws, yet also part of my charm. (Or so I like to say.) I think you all know that I am, as my boss likes to say, "chemically dependant" when it comes to hair. I've been dyeing my hair since the grays got out of control about five years ago. And I've been having it professionally altered ever since the great orange fiasco of 2006.

I am five days away from my next "treatment." That is about fifteen days too late. The hair has gone from gray to silver to flat out white in the very front. I am TOO YOUNG to be sporting a white patch right in the front of my head.

So last night I um...colored it with a marker. A stamping marker. Close to Cocoa was the exact color. It worked out just fine.

This morning I came to work without having rewashed it (every other day for my hair) - and my friend Tammy said "Girl, you got some punk red going on in your hair." I rushed to the mirror. Yes. The Close to Cocoa had morphed into Ronald McDonald red overnight and in the NON-fluorescent lights of my home, I had not known this.

Oh BROTHER.

So I stood in the Business Office while one of the girls recolored it with a brown (scented, no less) magic marker. It isn't perfect, but it's better.

Until my supervisor came in. (I'd told him the story) and he said, "Hey your hair matches your lipstick." Great. Raisinberry hair.

Not All About the Cats

Chris, I know that I talk about the cats all the time. I know that I over-defend the feline population - especially when they seem to be under-defended.

BUT.

I wanted to show you that I do genuinely like dogs too. Case in point:

No, she's not mine. She belongs to one of my friends, but when I showed up at the apartment, she promptly sat. ON me. And just in case you weren't sure - she's not little! But I just loved her. She was a lot of fun.

I hope this redeems me at least a tiny bit from all the excessive defense of the cats.

The Official Election Day Post

I normally leave all the political chat to those who can speak with more eloquence on the subject than I...

...but it is election day, so I'll throw in my story.

Last night when I decided to work out at the gym, I dug through my purse for my driver's license, so I wouldn't have to lug my whole purse to the gym. No license. I freaked out. A.) How long had I been driving around without it in my wallet? 2.) Where was it? C.) I VOTE IN LESS THAN TWELVE HOURS!!!!!

Found it. It was with the stack of prayer cards I take to the gym to count my laps. Apparently it had been there since last week when I went to the gym. Good thing I didn't get pulled over recently! And a blessed good thing I decided to go to the gym last night - when I almost didn't. Can you just imagine me getting in line to vote and discovering I was license-less?

I woke up (by the sheer force of multiple alarms) at 5:40, ate two pieces of toast, and went to vote at six on the dot - in my pajamas, sporting my bedhead, smeary masacara and all.

I'm not fond of my voting location - for safety reasons. This is the first time I've had to go there by myself. Wren, if you're reading this, can you convince your husband to move back here so we can continue our tradition of voting together for safety in numbers?? For a few years the location changed to a better spot and now it's back to scary-ville. You can imagine my joy at the prospect of waiting in the dark, outside, in my jammies. But fortunately my outside wait was only about fifteen minutes.

Add another hour to the inside wait. I was three people up in line from my friend Amber, and as I approached the sign-in table, I leaned around and said, "HEY! Watch this. When I get up here, this lady is going to ask me if I'm related to Dave and tell me that her sons had him in school." She took my license, told me where to sign (after looking for my name in a variety of creative-yet-wrong spellings of my last name) and said to me, "Are you related to Dave? My sons had him for a teacher!" I could hear Amber cracking up behind me.

But at last, after winding my way around tables in the little room and listening to people call to report that their spouse would need to find alternate transportation for the kids...or that they'd be late to work...I voted.

And I was only 3 minutes late to work. I thought that was pretty excellent considering I'd not even STARTED getting ready.

My only comment on the whole thing is that this is a huge shame. (NOTE - the link doesn't work anymore, but the story was about 3 firefighters who lost their chance to vote because they had already signed in when they received a fire call and they left the line to go to the fire. When they came back, they were told they could not vote, because Indiana law says once you sign in, you vote or you forfeit.)

Bits for Sunday, November 2, 2008

This morning in our Sunday School class we talked about ways to keep that “vine and branch” connection with God. We went over all of the seemingly obvious patterns that keep the relationship going…reading the Bible, praying, going to church. And then we went on to talk about the things that get in the way of those patterns.

You know that I love to read and study the Bible, but this year I’d found myself getting in a bit of a rut with some of the methods of study I’d determined to use. Because I’m pretty disciplined, I did a great job of showing up and going through the motions, but I became less and less impacted by what I read. And I began to miss that connection.

I read through a blog a few weeks ago in which the author mentioned that she’d recently studied Psalm 119. Having read through the Old Testament twice, I knew I had read the Psalm at least two times, but I had never really studied it in depth. But before I just jumped in and started reading, I asked one of my friends if she would be interested in reading it too. She agreed, and now we study a few verses each day and talk about them the next day. It has been one of the biggest blessings in my Bible study all year! I love hearing her thoughts on each verse, seeing things from her perspective, and picking up on nuggets of wisdom that would have probably remained hidden to me on my own. Plus, knowing that we’ll need to chat makes for great accountability to keep on track!

I love the big margins in Psalms, because it gives me a chance to scratch notes and word studies out to the side, mark up the cross reference column, and really “live” in the words of the Word.

Besides just studying the words themselves, I’ve also been reading from Matthew Henry’s commentary, and some of his insights on this Psalm have caused me to stop and ponder the words of the verses just a bit more carefully.

One of my favorite things about studying the Bible is the way the right verses seem to pop up at the right time. One evening last week, I had a lot going on in my mind, and I just happened to be ready for verses 49-56. I sat, pencil in hand, drawing arrows and making notes in the margin of the Bible, when I hit the last two verses of that section:

In the night I remember your name, O Lord, and I will keep your law. This has been my practice: I obey your precepts.

When I looked up the word “night” – the word study said it meant “gloom.” In the moments of sadness or even despair – my job is to remember my commitment to God and to be obedient to what He asks of me. That doesn’t come easily to me, but it was a very good and necessary reminder to me that this needs to be my focus when times are any version of tough.

And when I went on to read that second part…This has been my practice: I obey your precepts…what an awesome legacy to leave! What would it be like to live life in such a way that this verse could be said of me when I’m gone? I’ve been chewing on that one ever since I read it.

I could write for pages and pages (and believe me, I have) about the things I’ve been learning, but I just wanted to share that tiny bit with you in hopes that it might make you think. And who knows…maybe after a few more days of study, I’ll have more to share.

Shaking my Head

My background on my monitor at work is the picture of my niece, Cassie, with President Bush. You know - from her graduation? The other day a visitor to my office looked at the picture and said to me, "Oh, you a fan of SNL?"

Ummmmm....no....that's the real President. As in the one that runs the nation.


OOOH! And I just remembered something else I was going to say. This morning I read an article somewhere that talked about daylight savings (my favorite topic second only to Wal Mart). The end of the article mentioned the upcoming election for our governor - and how some still hold a grudge against him for instituting this in our fine state. (Let the record show - I'm not one of those. I'm just vocally annoyed.) Anyway, the last sentence said something like Guess that's what happens when you take away an hour of sleep a night for 8 months. Mmm hmmm. You know it! 240 hours of lost sleep that I shall never recover, because even if I take a 3 hour nap every Sunday, it would take me 80 Sundays to catch up...but by then I'm into another round of 240 lost hours.

Sausage and Egg Loaf

I AM EXHAUSTED.

I have tried for two days to load these pictures in order - but Blogger has changed the way the load order actually posts the pictures. I am not sure I even like this casserole anymore! Not after what I went through to get it uploaded!!

This recipe is one of my favorites for a couple of reasons. When I was growing up, breakfast wasn't a meal that happened on a regular basis at our house. Dad and I weren't especially morning people, so we were more of a "cereal on your own" household. (At least that is my version. Maybe my parents were actually scared of morning Bekah so they opted to eat on their own. Hmmmm....) Anyway, holidays were about the only time we had "real breakfast" together as a family. But when we did, this was a dish Mom would make, and it was a special treat.

And when I exited the world of college and entered the world of work and therefore office carry-in meals, this was the first recipe Mom gave me as a suggestion of something to take to work. It has somewhat become my trademark in the office, though I do have an actual rotation of dishes that I now make for work. This is beyond easy to assemble, it makes the house smell incredible while it's baking, and it rarely has leftovers. (Although if there are any, they do warm up nicely!) This is perfect for brunches, Sunday School, the office - or just for home!

The Recipe:

9 slices bread
2 cups grated cheese
1 pound ground sausage
9 eggs
2 1/2 cups milk

Cube bread and place in a 9x13 baking dish. Brown the sausage and drain. Place a layer of sausage on top of the bread cubes and add a layer of grated cheese. Mix eggs and milk, beat together, and pour over mixture. Leave overnight in the refrigerator. Bake the next day at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Cut and serve.


No, I don't have to buy name brand meat. I hunted high and low for the store brand but all they had was the real thing. Please note, though, if you are not a frequent buyer of ground sausage - it comes in all heat ranges. I accidentally bought the hot and spicy kind one time because I didn't know there were degrees...that was a clean-out-your-sinuses casserole!! The word you're looking for is MILD!! I have also discovered that I prefer white bread to wheat bread in this. Well that is true in my life across the board, but I've switched to wheat bread for my daily use in an attempt to be healthier. But I still buy white bread for this.


I work on other parts of the casserole while the sausage browns. I try to chop it up into fairly little pieces for even distribution across the entire dish. I've also discovered that sausage normally doesn't have enough grease to really drain, so when it has fully cooked, I just remove it with a slotted spoon or spatula, put it on a plate lined with paper towel and pat the grease out with more paper towel.

I cut the bread into about one inch cubes. I usually do 3 slices at a time. Though you can use fresh bread for this, it cuts more easily if it's a day or two old. Please note that this is one of life's rare recipes that does not require the dish to be greased or sprayed with cooking spray.

I try to evenly spread the sausage over the bread so that no one gets an all-bread piece when it is served. That is heartbreaking if you're a meatatarian!

As for the cheese...I use whatever kind I have on hand. Normally I use a monterey-jack blend or a pizza blend, but all cheddar or all mozzarella would be okay too if that's what you have. And by the way - my friend Lois told me that she also adds a can of green chilies to this step. I never would have thought of it - but it sounds good!

Here's all nine eggs! Large or extra large - either one would work fine.

Normally I use an electric mixer for this step to make sure I get to all the eggs. Either I was lazy this particular time - or the beaters were in the dishwasher. Could go either way. If you do mix by hand, make sure you get it mixed up really well. I use 1% milk and it works fine. Whatever kind of milk you like!

Pour the milk/egg mixture as evenly as you can over the pan so that all the bread soaks it up. It's okay if you have little chunks of egg left. They will cook right up.

Cover it with foil or a lid to the pan if you have one - and just put it in the refrigerator. The next morning, preheat the oven and put this in to bake (take off the foil or lid) while you get ready - or continue to sleep. Someone told me once that they skipped the overnight step and just baked it right away - but it wasn't as good because the egg and milk hadn't had all that time to soak into the bread. Here is the finished product!

I should have taken a picture of this too - but I didn't. For Christmas a couple of years ago, someone gave me a 9x13 Pyrex dish with lid and insulated carrier. That was an awesome gift. No more carting food to work wrapped in bath towels! The carrier came with a heat/ice pack that you could stick in the bottom to keep your dish hot or cold as needed.

Bits for Sunday, October 26, 2008

I just finished some research for the Bible study I’m writing, which means I’ve spent about the last 3 hours camped out in the Kings and Chronicles. My head is spinning with my attempts to keep straight the kings of the divided nation of Israel…which ones were good…which ones were evil…which ones converted from good to evil or evil to good depending on who they married…exhausting. How did I ever make it through Old Testament Survey with an A?

Speaking of “how did I ever?”…it became very apparent to me this week that I’m getting old, y’all!! Friday night I went to game night, which is a two-or-three-times-a-year gathering of a few friends from my high school class. We hang out, eat dinner, play games (a.k.a. I learn to be a graceful loser) and talk about the good old days – which may or may not have actually been good. Until this week, game nights have always been at my house, but this time someone else hosted, so I got a field trip to Indy.

Side note…fell in love with the Garmin that the person I rode with had in his car. I think I could perhaps learn to love driving if I had a Garmin. It was truly the most amazing little thing I’d ever seen. Must put that on the “to buy” list.

Anyway, so we went to Indy, played our games, had our food, relived the good old days – we even all wore our senior shirts and took goofy pictures. But it has been a while since I stayed out that late. I got home about 2:15 in the morning. While it’s not been all that long since I’ve stayed up until 2, it has been a while since I tried to operate a motor vehicle at that hour. WHEW! Talk about getting close to God in prayer! And to think I did that days in a row in college…and still got up at 6:30 in the morning…and didn’t believe in naps. Yes, it’s official…I’m old.

None of that has to do with what I was going to tell you today, though. Some of you have already heard this story, so I do apologize if it’s a repeat for you. (Although I have to say…you’ll probably laugh at me again just like you did the first time.) I said I wasn’t going to tell this story until I was forty. And I’m not forty. But I have developed enough of a sense of humor during the remainder of this week that I think I can handle telling the story anyway.

Our office has had a bit of an issue with temperature regulation this week. And by “bit of an issue” – I mean that it registered over 80 on more than one occasion. I prefer the office to be about 60, and that’s when I wear short sleeves! I’ve moved to winter clothing now, so even 60 is hot for me. Needless to say, after several hours of the 80 degree business, my face was sliding off, my clothes were sticking to me, I was grumpy, and one day, extremely sick to my stomach.

On Wednesday the heat mostly melted my brain cells. I was aware that my mind was not operating at full speed. I was aware that my creativity levels were at an all-time dangerous low. I went to Bible study with full awareness of all these facts. Sigh. If only I had heeded this knowledge with the exercise of common sense.

That night we studied the Beatitudes. The group numbered about a dozen people – the largest group yet since I’ve started going. Please be aware that in this group was one of my former teachers and a host of people that I’m finding to be new friends. We opened our Bibles and settled in for a night of learning and discussion.

The Bible study leader began by saying some scholars call the Beatitudes the “Ordination Address to the Twelve.” The group (minus me) discussed what that might mean. Once that had been discussed to a good extent, he went on to say that others call it the “Magna Carta of the Kingdom.” I listened as they picked around at that phrase, trying to recall its definition from history classes. Finally, he said that it’s sometimes known as the “Manifesto of the King.” What could that mean?

You have to understand how much I detest silence. The longer it goes, the more uncomfortable I become. Apparently the rest of the group was exhausted from the last question because no one answered. So I, in all my melted-brain-cell wisdom, piped up rather loudly, “Isn’t a manifesto the list of passengers on an airplane?”

WHAT!?!?

Even as I heard the words exiting my mouth, I realized that was possibly the dumbest thing I’ve said since I’ve turned 30. Everyone laughed (as well they should have) and I turned 57 shades of red. Someone kindly informed me that the word I was thinking of was actually “manifest.” Ohhhhhhhh.

Airplanes in the New Testament? Seriously, Rebekah!!! I buried my head in my Bible for the rest of the study and managed to not burst into tears until I was safely hidden in the dark car for the ride home.

It is because of this rather recent inability to command my own native language that I’m hesitant to move past actually researching for this Bible study I started writing…and putting words on paper. But then again, it might end up being the world’s first comedy study. They always said in writing classes that to be good, you have to be cutting edge. Hmmmmm….

Commercial-isms

Our office reached a temperature of approximately 480 degrees today. My face slid off and my clothing stuck to me. One should not sweat when one sits in a chair and stares at a computer. One also should not overuse the phrase "one should" too much because it sounds stuffy.

So, in an attempt to console myself from the heat, I sent a message to Rachel (who also works in my office): "It's hot."

Immediately after I sent it, I thought "It's hot, and YOU need a pool." If you don't live in Indiana, surrounded by Watson's commercials, that means nothing to you. But the funny part was, her response to me was "and you need a pool." This little banter led us to discuss the best of the most annoying commercials. Here were some of our faves. Please let me know if I've missed any.

My current most hated commercial is for the place where you're supposed to send all your unwanted gold, silver, and platinum, and they'll rush you a check. Leno made fun of that one the other night, so I know I'm not the only one annoyed by it. "I had no idea my gold jewelry was worth so much money." Really?? Then you probably shouldn't own it!

While it did accomplish its purpose in getting into my head and staying there, I can't stomach the Empire Today song anymore. When that commercial comes on, I risk life, limb, and injured cats to get to the remote before the song begins to play. Because once it does, it will never be gone from my head for days.

Another local favorite (so sorry for those of you who won't be able to fully appreciate this one) for us was the Ace Hardware song - sung by the actual local store crew.

Hadn't seen this one for a LONG time, but not long ago I saw the "HELP! I've fallen and I can't get up!" commercial. I really thought that one had run its course, but apparently more people have fallen, so it plays on.

You know the Wendy's commercial? "It's waaaaaaaaaay better than fast food?" I unfortunately noticed the first time I heard it that she really says "It's awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay better than fast food." Away?? Away from what? And now I just can't handle it at all.

Having written all of this now, I realize that it probably seems I do nothing but sit and watch TV all day and that is certainly not the case. It's just that there are only about 10 commercials in the rotation, so after an hour of TV, you've seen them all 4 times!!!

But you gotta tell me - what have I forgotten?

Retreat Pictures

Below this post is the full story behind the pictures...

This was where I had my overnight personal retreat this year. The Farmstead Inn is a great place to stay. Very clean, very quiet - and yet very BIG! It's just down the road from the Shipshewana flea market and all the little shops. And look what a beautiful travel day I had when I left! :)

My room had a couch (which was also a hide-a-bed, but I didn't need it for that). That's where I sacked out to read my book.


And of course - what good is a retreat without a place to journal??

My suite (please remember that I virtually never get to travel, so when I do, I like to treat myself to a nice space) had a kitchenette, which was very helpful, since I elected to not leave the hotel once I got there.

The famous silverware. (Explanation in post below.)

My free coffee from the lobby!!

Bits for Sunday, October 19, 2008

I told you last week I would fill you in on my time at my spiritual retreat during my vacation. Last year was the first time I ever went on such an adventure, having been prompted to do so by something I read in a book. It was such a pivotal experience for me that I wanted to do it again this year…and every year. There’s something about getting away from home, responsibilities, contact with the outside world…and settling down for a concentrated time with God.

I’ll admit this year I felt very underprepared for the retreat. Last year I spent about four months planning it – choosing a topic to study, purchasing a book to read, planning everything from my meals to events, and garnering a prayer team to back me up while I was gone. This year I grabbed a book off the shelf at the last minute, and as I began the drive to the hotel, I felt as though I had no idea what would happen and that somehow my lack of preparation would lead to disappointment in the way the retreat would unfold.

But of course – God wasn’t about to let it be that bad.

This year my retreat was at the Farmstead Inn, located up in Shipshewana. I’d stayed there before and knew it would be a good, quiet place to get away. Halfway to my destination (as I fervently prayed against detours, which were last year’s headache), I realized I’d taken a microwave dinner to eat, but I’d failed to pack any silverware. Last year I’d planned ahead enough that I remembered all those sorts of things. Last year I’d even packed chocolate covered strawberries. There’s a big gap between hand dipped strawberries and grabbing a chicken nugget microwave dinner at the final grocery store on the way out of town.

I arrived at the hotel detour-free (yay!) and checked in, still kicking myself about the silverware dilemma. I had resolved to locate a coffee stirrer somewhere on the premises and use it to stab the macaroni and kernels of corn. (Hardly makes me eligible for Survivor, but it does show some attempts at resourcefulness.) The lady at the desk handed me my room card and sent me on my merry way – down a lonnnnnnng corridor to the room at the farthest possible location from the front desk. Oh – and it was on the first floor. I walked in and looked around…and said “Well, God, last year I had a second floor room in view of the lobby, which made me feel very safe. I guess this year You think I’ve grown up enough to be in the far reaches of the universe with ground floor windows.” I’ve watched way too much CSI and SVU. I quoted the only Psalms I could remember about lying down and sleeping in peace, and headed back to the car for my stuff. (Incidentally, I made it entirely in one trip with the luggage…for those of you who accuse me of packing for a month for an overnight trip.)

Of course the first joy of any hotel room is investigating it, so I scampered about opening drawers, CLOSING blinds, and inspecting the gigantic garden whirlpool tub. When I poked around the kitchenette, I found answer to prayer number two: a plastic tray full of plastic silverware. Proof that God cares about even the littlest things. (Or maybe He just didn’t want to watch me stab macaroni with a coffee stirrer.)

I curled up on the couch and read in the book I’d pulled from the shelf – How to Really Love God as Your Father by Deborah Newman. After each chapter, I’d move over to the tiny table, spread out my journals and write all the things I’d just learned that I didn’t want to forget.

I found some great quotes along the way:

You know you are getting it when you don’t doubt the goodness of God. You are discovering the amazing depths of a relationship with God that allows you to cry out ‘Abba, Father,’ as Jesus did on that night of utter terror in His soul. – Deborah Newman

The great spiritual task facing me is to so fully trust that I belong to God that I can be free in the world – free to speak even when my actions are criticized, ridiculed, or considered useless; free also to receive love from people and to be grateful for all the signs of God’s presence in the world. I am convinced that I will be truly able to love the world when I fully believe that I am loved far beyond its boundaries. – Henri Nouwen

After several hours of reading and journaling, I took a break to have the fabulous frozen dinner – eaten in bed, of course, as should be the case when eating in a hotel. I filled up the ice bucket – another adventure of hotel life – trying to find that one mysterious cubbie that is never quite where the map on the back of the door says it will be found. I helped myself to not one, but two free cups of coffee from the lobby – because I could. And I took a swim (don’t even think I’m kidding) in that gigantic tub. There was also a bit of a mishap with the bubbles, but we won’t talk about that.

And when the day was over, I curled up in bed with my bag of popcorn and the remote control, flipping through all the familiar channels I watch at home. I stretched out in the big bed and slept soundly – first floor and all. And I didn’t even have any CSI dreams.

The next morning I could tell the sun (which had NOT made an appearance the previous day) was peeking through the blinds, so I scurried out of bed to open the east windows and lay in bed to watch a sunrise. (Once a year I can handle a sunrise.)

I was very pleased with the outcome of the retreat – despite my lack of planning. God proved to me that He (the Abba Father) can provide for His children even when they fail to plan well.

Peanut Butter Fudge

Beverly...your request is granted. :) Enjoy!

One of the many things I inherited from Dad was my love for peanut butter fudge. Actually I'll eat fudge of any kind, but Dad prefers peanut butter. The problem is, I'm super picky about fudge. It needs to be extremely creamy to make me happy. And now that I've found this recipe, I'm perfectly happy. Amazingly enough, so is Dad. You think I'm picky about the fudge. He's really picky. I was so nervous the first time I made this and gave him some, but he said he loved it. (He does not say that lightly when it comes to food.) So I'm still making it and he's still eating it. Last Saturday was Dad's birthday, so I made a new batch - a whole pan just for him.

I love this recipe because it has very few ingredients, and it does not take long to make. I can usually have it completely done (finding ingredients to tossing dishes in dishwasher) in 15 minutes or less. But do beware - this is addictive!

The Recipe:

2 cups sugar
1/2 cup milk
1 1/3 cups peanut butter
1 jar (7 ounces) marshmallow creme

In a saucepan, bring the sugar and the milk to a boil. Boil for 3 minutes. Add the peanut butter and marshmallow creme to the pan and mix well. Pour into a greased 8 inch square pan. Chill until set; cut into squares.


I prefer this recipe with creamy peanut butter, since it is such a creamy fudge, but sometimes I've run out and have had to use some (or all) crunchy peanut butter. It's really good no matter what you choose to use!

My first panic when making this for the first time was knowing when to start the 3 minute count for the boil. At the sign of the first bubble? When it was really going strong? After some experimenting, I learned that when there's a pretty consistent boil around the edge of the pan and maybe a good boil starting in the middle...start counting.


Once it gets going, it will boil up quite a bit. Since there's so much sugar in there, I stir it every 30 seconds or so just to make sure it's not burning/sticking to the bottom of the pan.

Once the boiling has finished, you have to work pretty quickly to stir it together before it starts to set up. So while I wait on the boiling part of the recipe, I go ahead and open up the marshmallow creme and get the peanut butter measured so I am ready to move when the timer sounds. This little kitchen tool right here is one of the best investments I ever made in my culinary life. I h-a-t-e measuring messy foods. Mayo, sour cream, peanut butter - all that stuff irritates me. But Pampered Chef made this Measure-All cup that measures dry ingredients on one side and liquid on the other (that bottom part is a cup when flipped over). You just slide the bottom of the dry measuring side down to the measurement you need, fill up the space with your ingredient, and just push it out into the bowl. It's one of the greatest inventions ever, I think. They also just came out with a smaller version recently.

I put the marshmallow creme and the peanut butter right in the pan - the leftover heat helps melt them down a bit. (Be sure you actually do remove this from the heat before you start sirring.)

I'd recommend using a pretty sturdy spatula or spoon. I almost broke a flimsy little spatula one time when trying to stir this. You have to be a little careful because the sugar/milk part is very runny (and hot!) and the marshmallow creme and peanut butter are so thick. You don't want to flip the hot sugar/milk out and burn yourself! Stir it really well so you don't end up with patches of marshmallow and patches of peanut butter.

Pour almost all of it into a greased baking dish. (Half the fun is leaving some in the pan to sample.) You can just let it stay out in room temperature, but I put mine in the refrigerator - usually overnight - and then it will be good and ready.

I forgot the official "TA-DA!" photo - but it pretty much looks the same as above - without the spatula in the way.

Bits for Sunday, October 12, 2008

One beautiful week of vacation…done. Sigh of combination sadness/excitement.

I try very hard not to take an entire week off work at one time. I don’t like being away from my desk that long. But I was quite worn down (thankyouverymuch, daylight savings) and I needed sleep desperately. So last week I took an entire week off. Well, sort of. I have a bad habit of not knowing how to stay away from checking my email while I’m not at work. But at least I managed to not go in to the office – though it was sorely tempting on Friday.

I kicked off the vacation with a six hour scrap-fest at the church where I attend Bible study. I had a whole round table to myself and got all caught up on my regular album. There were many snacks, but they were all super-sweet, so I tried not to work my way into a sugar coma on the drive home. And there I sat, in the living room, at 12:30 in the morning, eating dinner. Now that’s vacation.

Monday evening I got a new haircut – because I needed change in my life. Of course, as all women know, new haircuts bring on a new life of their own. Days of trying it this way and that to see what works, buying new product for it, because the 18 bottles already in the bathroom don’t quite give it the pizzazz it needs. It’s tiring, really.

Tuesday I managed to tackle the granddaddy of all projects looming over my head. I switched the clothes in the closet from summer to winter. The fall closet switch always brings me a combination of joy and sorrow. Joy because it’s a brand new (free!) wardrobe. Sorrow because I so hate bulky clothing. I have enough bulk. I don’t need to wear it too.

And Tuesday night I went to a jewelry-making party at my friend Rachel’s house (pictures in the post below). I was scared to death of all the little tools. Never made jewelry before. But I had a lot of fun and now own a very cute black bracelet and a pair of black earrings.

Wednesday I headed up to Shipshewana for my annual “personal retreat.” I will write more about that next week. But it was a very fun and relaxing time complete with those unexpected, unplanned moments that I love so much.

When I left Shipshewana the next day, I headed a couple of hours away to visit my friends Jon and Julie, who are about to have their first baby. They used to be my neighbors, so it’s very different to not see them all the time anymore! All of you who know me well will be SO PROUD to know that I drove by myself, on an interstate, through a city, in construction, on a road I’d never been on before, sandwiched between two semis, reading a very tiny Mapquest printout, and I did not get lost or throw up. That is major.

By Friday, the stress of not being at work had gotten the best of me. I was a wreck. I tried to figure out how to best channel my frustration without causing permanent damage to anyone or anything. I found just the thing.

Furniture rearrangement.

For SIX HOURS I rearranged furniture in four rooms. And since I know someone will ask, yes, it was by myself. I move my furniture all the time. One of Mom’s friends told me this morning that I change the furniture more than anyone she knows. I told her it’s cheaper than moving and it still gives that new house feel.

Anyway, I pushed and pulled and emptied and refilled and rearranged. We’re talking bookcases and TV and couches and the whole nine yards. And of course – I had to be on the lookout for tiny paws and tails the whole time.

I had two near disasters. Both happened while I tried to push and pull a full size couch through a very tiny doorway without scratching any paint or ripping any fabric. The first “oops” happened when I accidentally backed into an empty bookcase and toppled it over, very narrowly missing a window with the corner of the bookcase. The second was when I was so focused on not scratching the paint that I forgot I had a hand in the way. Totally smashed my hand in the door with the couch. It left a little fat bump and a bruise. And then this morning I whacked it on the table in Sunday School. That felt fabulous.

But for the most part the great overhaul is complete, and work resumes this week. If you need me for the next eight business days, you’ll find me glued to my emails.

Jewelry Night!

Here are the pictures from jewelry night earlier this week. Rachel (who makes about 80% of the jewelry I now wear) had a bracelet class, and a couple of us threw in a pair of earrings just for kicks. :) I was intimidated by the choices of beads and all the tools. I suppose I now know how people feel when they observe a hard core stamp fest in action.

Amanda made a very cute bracelet with all kinds of colors in it - perfect for about any outfit. It was her first time to join us and we loved having her!

Here's Rachel helping Olivia make a VERY cute bracelet. Hers had some big chunky pink beads in it - SO cute.


Jaye - our trooper of the night - beaded her entire bracelet with her broken hand. You go, Jaye! It was really cute too - and had the possibility to go with lots of outfits.

Amber was so cute working on hers - she put so much thought into the pattern and then she realized it was too long so she had to start over. She and I both did black bracelets - but hers was extra spiffed with some ribbon!

This is me freaking out about using the tools and Rachel trying to guide me. I think I'll let her bead and I'll stamp.

Tagged!

The Hollands tagged me, so I have the answers to that here below. But before I get to that....just a quick update on life in Bekahland.

Friday night I went to a six hour crop and it was AMAZING. I got all caught up on the "normal life" book, which was good enough for me. Saturday, as I mentioned on Sunday, was just a lovely restful day. I got a SASSY new purse at Goodys. Apparently this past weekend was their 55th anniversary, so they were running a 55% off sale. SWEET! Sales are my friend. Sunday was another lovely restful day complete with a nap.

Yesterday I had a first...I had wandered into the kitchen when I heard a very odd sound outside. I glanced out to see a woman pushing a grocery cart down the alley. Her significant other (I assume) was riding along beside her in a motorized scooter thing - PILFERING THROUGH MY TRASH!!! I had no words. I know people sort through my trash, because I've found stuff missing from it before. While I guess I don't mind (after all, I did throw the stuff away) - I just don't like the idea of people picking through my stuff while it's still on the property. Sigh.

Today's project is to clean out the closet. Since that is going to be a huge task, I'm choosing to blog instead rushing to start. :)

So here you go - answers to the tag.


10 Years Ago (1998):
1. I was a junior in college.
2. I was just about to go on my first date (I was a significantly late bloomer) - which is a "this could only happen to Bekah" story I'll have to tell you sometime.
3. I was driving Lloyd the really old Ford that had to have its radiator refilled every time it was driven.
4. I had not yet driven on any interstate as a result of driver's ed trauma.
5. Because I had minimal money for Christmas gifts, I was in the middle of writing a book for my family - figured they would like that for Christmas better than anything else.


5 things on today’s “to do” list:
1. Switch the clothes in the closet from summer to winter.
2. Clean the master bedroom closet so when the electrician comes to put in a new light, he can get into the space without being eternally lost.
3. Make BBQ sausages for the get-together tonight.
4. Figure out what to do with my hair.
5. Make jewelry at Rachel's house. (black earrings and a black bracelet, to be exact.)


5 snacks I enjoy:
1. graham crackers (the official snack of work days)
2. iced animal cookies
3. popcorn
4. cheese and cracker Combos (the official snack of any travel day)
5. jamocha shakes

5 things I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Treat the family to bill paying (houses/college bills/cars/whatever)
2. Remodel the parts of my house that I think need remodeling.
3. Go on a cruise.
4. Write books.
5. Get a new camera.


5 places I have lived:
1. Greentown - where I grew up.
2. Evans Hall - the dorm where I lived for my freshman and sophomore years of college.
3. Eastburn Apartments (moment of silence - they've been torn down in the name of progress) - where I lived my junior and senior years of college.
4. Apartment in north Marion - where I lived for three months between college graduation and where I live now.
5. My house! The current residence!


5 jobs I have had:
1. Babysitter (high school)
2. Church Secretary (right after high school)
3. File Clerk (right after high school)
4. Financial Aid Student Worker (3 1/2 years of college)
5. Financial Aid (where I've been ever since!)

Bits for Sunday, October 6, 2008

Rest.

That beautiful word that escapes us entirely too much of the time.

I don’t know if you’re like me – but I have been known to specifically schedule my times of rest because if I don’t – I’ll be too busy to have them. And yet it’s very hard to suddenly shut down my brain and rest on command. I find myself thinking of all the things I could – should – be doing while I’m “wasting time” resting.

Yesterday, with the exception of exercising, I took all my mentally scheduled plans and tossed them out the window. That took an act of discipline in and of itself. I do not easily toss the day’s script.

I slept in – but not until all hours of the day like I’m sometimes known to do. I made scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast (which really did kind of slam into the lunch hour) and kicked back to watch some HGTV while I enjoyed a perfect leisurely morning. I spent the rest of the day mixing some fun with some actual responsibility and amazingly enough, when the end of the day arrived, I wasn’t even kicking myself for all the things I never did because I ditched “the plan.”

Halfway through the day, my phone rang, and on the other end was a friend I’ve not seen in four years. She was in town and wondered if we could catch up for a few minutes. She had things scheduled but finally, late in the evening, she called and said she was free. I grabbed Starbucks for us and headed to meet her for a couple hours of catching up on four years of news. And as I drove home much later, I realized that sort of thing is what the day is really about. The cleaning will still be there tomorrow, but the time with her was then or…maybe not for another four years.

Even though I stayed out way too late on a church night, it was still restful. It was still good. And hey – Sunday afternoons were made for naps, so any lack of sleep could be easily fixed.

In Bible study last week, a little group of us sat around and discussed that mysterious period of Jesus’ life that is not really mentioned. Those twenty-eight or so years that fall between the time the wise men visited and public ministry began. With the exception of that one moment when He was twelve and informing Mary and Joseph that He must be about his Father’s business, there are no clues about what happened in His life.

We speculated about this and that, and I said that I think those years were filled to the brim with life. I think for Jesus to be able to relate to people the way He needed to relate to them during His years of ministry, He had to do a lot of hands-on, in-the-field prep work. I believe those silent years were an entire lifetime of ups and downs, joys and sorrows, test and trials, all crammed into twenty-some odd years.

Talk about an agenda! Lots to do…and yet not a lot of time to do it. And yet the Bible is very clear that Jesus understood the importance of rest and He took time out to do it. And I would imagine there were days when the check-list had to be tossed aside because a friend was in town – or something else that seemed lesser might actually have been greater.

Agendas are good. Checklists…and more specifically the checking off of checklists…are good. But rest is good too. And this week I intend to pack in my fair share of it.

Chicken in a Garden

I thought perhaps it was time to post a recipe that did not include a main ingredient of sugar. :) Main dishes were probably the hardest thing for me to learn to cook. I was great with desserts for many years, but I had no idea what to do when it came to the "real food." But I've greatly improved in that department, and I love to share the things I love to make the most.

One evening I went to my friend Marie's house for a movie night, and rather than our traditional order-in-Pizza-King routine, she made this for dinner. It was so yummy - and she promised it was also so easy - that I asked for the recipe. I have made this many times since. It is extremely easy to assemble, it has VEGETABLES in it (gasp!), and it tastes pretty good even as a leftover. Though I make this year-round, it struck me as a sort of fall comfort food, so I thought this would be the perfect time to share it with you!

The Recipe:

1 9-inch baked pie crust
1 large can of chicken
1 10-ounce bag frozen mixed vegetables, cooked and drained
1 10 1/2-ounce can cream of chicken soup
1 3-ounce can French fried onions

Combine chicken, vegetables, and soup, along with half the can of onions. Pour mixture into baked pie shell. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Sprinkle the remaining onions over the top and bake 5 minutes longer. Enjoy!


I prefer the mixed vegetable bag that has just carrots, corn, green beans, and peas. But you can pick whatever blend you like to get your favorite taste. If you don't like canned chicken, you could use a couple cups of chopped up chicken breast. (I just don't want to take the extra time to cook the chicken first and I never have any prepared ahead.)


When I make pies, I make my own crust, because I like to do things the long way. :) But part of the joy of this dish is that it's QUICK, so when I make it, I use pie shells from the freezer section. The ones I buy come two in a bag, so I can make this twice! The directions for baking an empty pie shell are printed on the bag, so follow those directions to pre-bake the shell. You're also supposed to poke the shell with a fork prior to baking. I have a call in to my Mom to find out why that is, but so far she hasn't called me back with the answer, so for now, the reasoning is "just because."


While the pie shell is baking (usually takes about 15 minutes), I go ahead and get the filling ready. I start by cooking the vegetables. This is one of my favorite kitchen tools. It's the Pampered Chef Micro-Cooker, and this particular one was given to me by my mom when I was a freshman in college. It has definitely survived a lot of wear and tear! (My senior year of college, one of my roommates borrowed it to make soup and didn't stop to think about it being plastic, so she put it on the stove. It has huge coil marks in the bottom now, but it didn't melt all the way through, so it's still perfectly usable!) Anyway, this thing is great for microwave cooking. It has measuring marks on the inside, pour spouts, and the lid doubles as a strainer. In college I used it for macaroni and cheese, soup, Ramen, you name it. But now I love it for things like this so I don't have to mess with heating up the stove top. I just pour some water in with the veggies, cook them for a few minutes, and then flip the cooker over to pour off the water.

When the veggies are cooked, I just put them in a bowl along with the chicken. I do drain the juice off the chicken before I add it to the veggies. Some of the canned chunks can be kind of big, so I break them up with a fork to spread it better throughout the dish.

Then I add the soup and the onions (and I usually add more onions than it says because I like them so much).

When the pie shell comes out of the oven, I'm ready to pour the filling in! I think the temperature to cook the empty shell is higher than the temperature to cook the assembled dish, so I just hold the oven door open for a couple of minutes until it cools down to 350.
And once the main cooking time is done, I add more onions and....here is the finished product!

You can just cut it like a pie and serve it! I really like to eat this with grapes for a perfect, simple, fast little meal.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

I hate spiders. I don't care if they're big ole hairy tarantulas or spindly little grandaddy longlegs. I hate them all. I don't want them to breathe my air, live on my property or anything of the sort.

When I was growing up, any sighting of a spider (and there were many because we lived in the country) was grounds for screaming at the top of my lungs for my Dad.

Clearly that option went the way of all the earth when I moved out of their house. Fortunately life a bit removed from the fields has made the appearance of spiders very minimal. And when I do see them, I just have to take care of the situation myself, like it or not. (Not.)

But this totally creeped me out. Yesterday I was in the bathroom, straightening my hair at the sink. I had just brushed my teeth and when I glanced down to pick up the straightener, there was this NASTY spider crawling up the sink from the drain! NOT a grandaddy longlegs. Also not a tarantula, but you know - a "real" spider. I screamed. The cats ran (what good are they, anyway?) and I started ripping about 15 sheets of toilet paper off the holder. Before I could wet my pants or throw up, I squished that icky spider and flushed him. Then I screamed again. THEN I closed the drain.

What happened to "down came the rain and washed the spider out?" I'd just been running the water. That thing should have been FARRRRRRRRRRRRRR from the house, not perched just under the sink!

I wrote my parents and told them they should be proud. I killed a spider without calling 911. :)