Pilgrim Biscuits

Pilgrim Biscuits

Back when I was a second grade teacher one of my favorite things to do was to have the kids imagine what it was like to be a Pilgrim child crossing the Atlantic on the Mayflower.

 I would share with them the daily struggles of the Pilgrims and have them record their voyage in a journal. One of the interesting facts was that as the journey progressed food choices were limited and the Pilgrim children had to eat hard biscuits. 

Now as a teacher you wonder if your students are really paying attention or is your lesson going in one ear and out the other? As was the practice of my school district the cafeteria served a Thanksgiving feast each year.

 As luck would have it I was on cafeteria duty that day, and found myself approaching one of my students as she flagged me down with a waving arm. I was expecting a standard cafeteria request; something like a milk carton needing to be opened or permission to go to the restroom. I must say that what happened next caught me totally off guard. 

My student was quite ecstatic that the cafeteria had decided to serve Pilgrim biscuits that day.

 You know hard as a rock!

Wishing everyone a blessed Thanksgiving. 

Working My “Weigh” Through the Snickers Bars

Working My “Weigh” Through the Snickers Bars 

I have a confession to make. 

I’ve been working my way through the fun size Snickers bars left over from Halloween. 

Now luckily I don’t feel the same way about the lowly Milky Way and Three Musketeer bars, as there is still a plethora of those babies sitting in the GIANT bag of leftover Halloween candy in the pantry waiting to find its way to Chuck’s work. 

Judging how much candy to buy each year is a real challenge for me, especially when living in a new neighborhood. Last year I gave out small packets of pumpkin shaped pretzels, but this year I kind of felt bad denying the trick-or-treaters the good stuff, so I invested in a BIG bag of chocolate. 

Along with an almost daily Snickers bar this last week I still have continued to eat my Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cup each night after dinner. In the Weight Watcher world that’s seven points, a little less than a third of my daily points. Not too smart I’d say!

Now the good thing is that there are only about six left, but unfortunately Chuck doesn’t return to work until next week so there’s no chance they will find their way to work before the damage is done. 

I think I might need to install a pantry alarm that says, “Step away from the chocolate,” when I open the door. 😬

Thanksgiving Musings

Thanksgiving Musings

Well I almost decided not to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year. 

It’s not that I wasn’t going to celebrate Thanksgiving, rather I was considering letting Kroger’s do the cooking.

Yes, at the time in a moment of sheer madness it sounded perfectly sane, because it sounded so easy. But after I came back to my senses I knew I’d be disappointed with the store-bought version of a feast. 

Now as it is I really do try to make Thanksgiving a little simpler. I cook my Butterball (my favorite turkey of all) in a roasting bag which is super easy. My cornbread dressing begins with a Pepperidge Farm bag of dried cornbread, and I ask my guests to each bring a side. 

I’m responsible for the bird, dressing, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. I wish I could claim the gravy, but it usually comes out of a jar. Rolls are our favorite brown and serve, and cranberry sauce has traditionally come from a can. 

A couple of Thanksgivings ago, though, I tried a fall Brussels Sprouts salad which is now a new favorite, and this year I plan on trying a healthier version of homemade cranberry sauce. 

As I think about the work required for a Thanksgiving meal, between planning, shopping, preparing and cleaning up afterwards, I realize that it really is a labor of love, but I’m so blessed to be able to do so. 

It seems that Thanksgiving is starting to take a backseat in the holiday world, being squeezed out by an early Christmas entrance. I still enjoy decorating for fall in November, remembering that first historical Thanksgiving, and eating the traditional foods of my youth. 

I look forward to spending time with my family all the while counting the many blessings in my life. After the feast as we gather around the TV for the Cowboy fans in the group, we also excitedly check out the Black Friday specials as we divvy up the sales circulars.

Brittany and I will be up early the next morning to take advantage of the sales, and for me to get at least two thirds of my Christmas shopping done. 

I’ll hold out until after Thanksgiving to put up my tree, but can’t wait for “the most wonderful time of the year.”

An Old Cat

An Old Cat

I guess you can teach an old cat a new trick after all. 

A couple of years ago I invested in a set of stairs for my dog, Cooper. I had noticed how effortlessly he jumped up and down off my very high bed, and realized that he wasn’t getting any younger, and I might want to be proactive about any future back problems. 

I spent several weeks enticing him up the stairs rewarding him each time with a treat. I made sure to remind him with the command, “Stairs!” each time he attempted to jump on or off the bed. 

Over time it became routine for him, and only occasionally world he jump down without using the stairs. I’ve noticed a few times, though, that he might have hurt his back, so the vet recommended putting him on some glucosamine. 

However, when it comes to my cat Abby she has her own way of getting on and off of the bed. She jumps on the end table first, and then on to the bed. Remember she figured this out all on her own, but as she is now over fifteen I thought maybe encouraging her to use the stairs as well might be easier on her. 

Last week I showed her twice how to get up on the bed. I noticed this past Saturday she was using the stairs on her own. Mind you this was with no other training, treats, command words or encouragement.

This cat cracks me up. Using the stairs takes less effort than jumping off the end table, and she pretty much figured that out without too much help from me. You know cats don’t do anything they don’t want to do as that is their “purrogative.”

This old feline has a way of finding the most comfortable spots in the house, namely my bed. 

Resting

Resting

Ruth Chou Simmons in her beautiful book, Gracelaced, writes about resting in God’s faithfulness. 

Recently I’ve found myself somewhat restless searching for something I can’t quite put my finger on. I can always tell when I’m in this place when I become obsessed with personality tests. 

Since my twenties I’ve been on this quest to figure myself out. If I could only identify which Myers Briggs or Enneagram type I am, then I’ll finally know which direction my life should take. 

As it turns out this becomes a struggle within itself because I never quite fit into any of the types exactly. I waver back and forth between extroverted introvert or introverted extrovert wondering if aren’t they pretty much the same thing?

What I’ve come to realize is that, although, these tests might have some benefit, I’m actually putting my trust in the wrong place thinking they have all the answers. 

Proverbs 3:5-6 reminds me, 

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” 

What I’m also coming to understand is that sometimes I just need to rest in the assurance that what I am to do next will be made known to me in God’s timing. I don’t have to be in charge. 

As we head into the holiday season I’m going to put away the personality tests, and enjoy spending time with family and friends, and being ever grateful for the blessings God has placed before me.

The Same Thing

The Same Thing

The words of David Usher, author of Let the Elephants Run resounded with me:

“We tend to go to the same places, to do the same things in the same way most of the time.”

As I thought more about this I came to the conclusion that there isn’t anything actually wrong with this. It is a personal preference for some who take comfort and enjoyment in the known. 

He continued with the following:

“Trying something new is for most of us, the exception rather than the rule.”

As I thought about my own life I realized that I vacillate between the two. I crave routine until I don’t. One day I wake up, and know that it is time to do something new. 

Interestingly, though, sometimes it takes convincing to do so. Fear of the unknown has a way of kicking in, and I find myself reluctant at first to make a change. 

What I have found time and time again, is that I rarely regret any new thing I’ve tried, and if I do there usually is some life lesson presented to me like a gift wrapped with a shiny bow. 

Of course, everyone is different, and needs to follow their own path. What I am offering for your consideration today is not to avoid the new and different, even if there is some discomfort involved. 

Keep it interesting, my friend. 

Ask the Question

Ask the Question

I’ve found in life that taking the time to ask a question often elevates a somewhat mundane activity into something more interesting. 

This very thing happened a few Sunday’s ago on the way home from church. We noticed that a large plantation style home was having an estate sale on their property, and thought it might be fun to check it out. 

The stately home stood on over thirty acres, and the long driveway was flanked by oak trees on either side. We noticed each one was marked with a pink tag. 

We had seen a sign pop up earlier in the summer advertising a new neighborhood that was going to be built on the property. It seemed kind of a shame that the palatial estate was going to be carved up into a series of McMansions. 

We wondered about the beautiful home that set further back on the property. We also wondered if each marked tree was destined for the wood chipper?

After arriving and parking in the adjoining pasture we made our way to an area that had been set up with white tents. Since it was already Sunday most everything was already picked over. I had noticed that the owner was selling her collection of original Cabbage Patch Dolls still in their boxes, and it brought back memories of the eighties. 

As we were leaving a woman making her way up the path stopped to ask about what was left. I mentioned the Cabbage Patch Dolls, and the parking attendant commented on the owner, and her doll collection. 

I stopped to ask her if she knew anything about the owners. Always curious I 
wanted to know more about the future plans for the place. 

As it turned out this was no ordinary parking attendant, she was actually the daughter of the estate owner. I braced myself to hear the heartbreaking story of her parents passing away, and they having to sell the property. However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that what I had imagined in my own mind was not true after all. 

Within a matter of moments her mother arrived on scene carrying a large pizza. She proceeded to fill me in on the rags to riches story of the young couple from Oklahoma. The home had just gotten to be more than they needed, and they just like most of us were wanting to downsize. 

We learned that the beautiful oaks lining the driveway would stay, and so would the home. New houses would be built on the front end of the property. 

Now what began as a routine garage sale of sorts ended up being a fascinating story of a young couple who had built a life for themselves and their family in Colleyville. 

I’m so glad I stopped to ask a question. If it’s not your practice to do so you might consider it because it sure makes life a lot more interesting. 

Stay curious my friend. 

Where There’s a “Well” There’s a Way

Where There’s a “Well” There’s a Way

I thought I might give you a quick update on “the girls”  as they are settling into their new coop.  Brittany reports that they have begun laying in their old familiar spot, so it looks like Chuck’s efforts have paid off. 

However, the mystery of whether they were too traumatized to lay eggs or not after the storm has been solved. Not to be discouraged by the lack of a coop these resourceful girls apparently have been laying all along unbeknownst to Brittany and Will. 

Just this weekend Will noticed a well worn path to the well house, and discovered twenty-six eggs all laid carefully in a bed of straw. Apparently, with their home in shambles they came up with a Plan B to take care of their egg laying needs. 

Nothing was “a fowl” in their world in their efforts to grace the world with a darn delicious egg!

(If you haven’t read about the Chicken Coop Saga check out Monday November 4th’s posting.)

The Finger

The finger. 

Nobody likes a good prank more than my husband, Chuck. Unfortunately since he’s married to a stick-in-the-mud he rarely gets a chance to pull a prank. 

That’s why he really gets into the trick side of Halloween each year, where tricks are just part of the fun. He takes great pleasure in offering acorns along with Snickers to unsuspecting trick or treaters. This year I talked him out of it, but he wasn’t to be curtailed when it came to tricking Brittany. 

He was able to procure a rubber finger from a Halloween display his work group had created, and knew immediately what he wanted to do. We just so happened to be babysitting the grandsons that weekend, and Chuck had a plan to leave the finger in Brittany’s refrigerator hoping for the expected reaction of finding a severed finger next to some left over macaroni and cheese. 

Ironically, it was the stick-in-the-mud who suggested hiding it in a box of yogurt tubes. I knew that it usually was only partially opened, and Brittany would have to lift the flap to retrieve a tube for breakfast the next morning. 

Sure enough Brittany reached in, and let out a scream. She knew immediately who was the culprit, and texted her Dad. Chuck proceeded to laugh all morning as he was getting ready for work. 

Later that evening our daughter reported that our youngest grandson was scared to death of the finger after being chased around the house by his brother through out the morning. 

He kept saying, “Papa?” which is leading us to believe that he might think that Chuck is missing a finger. 

A Difference of Opinion

A Difference of Opinion

One of the things that is most endearing about my twenty-two month old grandson is his ability to express his needs and wants. Each time I am around him I get the biggest kick at how he lets me know what he expresses himself with a pretty impressive vocabulary for his young age. 

The other thing that I am loving is watching his unique personality come to life. He definitely is his own person, and while his older brother is all about trucks and tractors, this little guy seems to love cars. 

A few weeks back when I was visiting mid-week I observed the funniest thing between the two of them. Now up to this point if there ever was a difference of opinion it was generally met with the clashing of teeth and hands. 

However, this was the first time that the argument involved actual words. We were sitting in the living room in the evening when the youngest heard a loud vehicle drive by. He lit up immediately, looked at me with the biggest grin, and said, “Car!”

I smiled back, shook my head, and agreed. Unfortunately, the older and sometimes wiser brother piped in with a quick correction that it was not a car, but instead a truck. 

The younger one looked at me again and said, “Car!” The older one responded with, “Truck.”

Now this back and forth continued until the younger one stepped closer to his brother, looked him in the eye, and emphatically stated, “Car!”

My daughter and I cracked up, and she pointed out that they might have just had their first argument using words!

Unfortunately, I doubt it will be their last. 

Chicken Coop Saga

The Chicken Coop Saga 

A few weeks ago when Dallas was hit by tornadoes, Comanche, Tx. got some really strong winds as well. One of several things that was damaged at my daughter Brittany’s was their chicken coop. Somehow, luckily all  five chickens survived, but their coop was left in shatters. 

This weekend Chuck and I made a trip down their direction to babysit the grandsons. As we pulled into their driveway we couldn’t help but noticed the coop remnants stacked inside their garage. 

Before leaving for Virginia two days after the storm my son-in-law Will had dragged the old coop into the garage salvaging a few pieces to put together a make-shift coop for the chickens. The night before, “the girls”as I like to call them,  had made their way under the heap searching for shelter in the comfort of the familiar coop. 

Although, the new coop did the trick, it was obvious that it was only a temporary shelter for the birds, and that Brittany and Will would probably be buying a new coop after they returned home. 

As Chuck eyeballed the wreckage I could almost imagine the wheels turning in his brain. Over the years Chuck has been a jack of all trades, and has assembled many pieces of furniture for our home. I always like to brag that he has saved us a ton of money by fixing things himself. I’ve never doubted his capabilities as when he puts his mind to something there is no stopping him. 

After clearing it with Brittany and Will he set to work. While our youngest grandson napped, the older one and I were there on the assist to help. Chuck reminded us that it would not be perfect, but he thought he could bring the old coop back to life. 

Now we weren’t the only ones interested in what was going on because as soon as Chuck got the basic layout set up, “the girls” made their way back into the coop-in-progress to check it out. 

We got a good laugh as we shooed them out. They appeared to approve our handiwork as Chuck continued on with his jigsaw puzzle approach to putting the coop back together again.  We took a break for dinner, and then he returned to the garage to finish the rest without the distraction of two very enthusiastic little boys.

The next morning we were all in awe at how it turned out. It basically looked good as new, although maybe not quite as sturdy. Chuck and the oldest put the finishing touches on the coop, and we all waited for Brittany and Will to return home. 

It was about that time that I realized that I had only seen three of the five chickens. Chuck confirmed that there were only three sitting in the coop that morning when he went to let them out. Our hearts sank as we contemplated whether something had possibly gotten the other two the night before. 

The temporary coop did not provide complete protection, and we had remembered that Ellie, their dog, had been very insistent on being let out late the night before. We made a trip around the property hoping to locate the missing hens, and were about to give up hope of finding them. 

It was then that I spied one of the rogue chickens hanging out by the sheep pen. We were now up to four and although, sad that we might have lost one, were relieved it wasn’t two. 

When Brittany and Will returned home we broke the news about the missing chicken, but were excited to show them the new coop. They were thrilled that they did not have to buy a new one anymore, but even more happy when they located the final bird hiding over by the flat bed trailer that we used to move the coop. 

Ironically, they also found a lone egg in that area as well. If “the girls” had been laying eggs since the storm it was a mystery to all as their eggs were no where to be seen. 

Needless to say it was an “All’s well that ends well moment at the ranch!”