HURRY, SPRING!

Posted on 2008-Mar-10 at 07:25

Hello, everyone!!  I'll bet you all thought I dropped off the face of the earth...well, I did for awhile there.  But now Spring is on the way, and I am coming out of hibernation.  We can't wait for Spring to come around here because we are tired of coats, boots, gloves, hats and most especially snowsuits:

Melissa and Megan waiting for Spring.

HURRY, SPRING!!!!!

A Day to Remember

Posted on 2007-Nov-26 at 07:05

You haven't lived until you've gone shopping at Toys R Us the Saturday after Thanksgiving with 2 babies in a side by side stroller.  You really haven't.  Why we decided this would be a good idea, I don't know, but I did live to tell about it, so tell about it I will.

First, it was so cold outside that I had to bundle them both up like snowpeople in order to take them out of the house.  By the time I was finished, they were like two little soft, stiff stick figures.  I bent them into their carseats which of course I could not fasten  because snowsuits are much bigger than jackets, so I spent the next 10 minutes adjusting the "easy adjust" straps on both seats.  Which are not easy by the way.  By now I am losing feeling in my hands because I had to take my gloves off to do this job and the car doors are open and the wind is whistling through. 

We took our smaller car because it was just Ken, me, Kevin and the girls.  I thought it would be cozy.   I managed to fit both carseats and Kevin's booster in the backseat, but when I went to buckle Kevin in, I realized that the space between his seat and the carseats was about wide enough to maybe fit a slip of paper into- certainly not big enough for me to be able to snap his seatbelt in without seriously injuring myself.  So I unhooked one of the carseats and pulled it to the side so I could strap Kevin in, put it back in place and quickly closed the door just in case somebody popped out.

The drive to the Toys R Us was fine- the babies were happy because Kevin was chain feeding them Cheerios, their all time favorite food in the entire world.   I of course forgot that Kevin doesn't realize how long it takes a baby to chew a Cheerio and before I thought of it, he had Melissa's cheeks stuffed full like a little chipmunk.  A true sign of a mom who is on the edge is when she lets a 4 year old feed the baby.  I reach back and in one deft movement do a mouth-sweep on Melissa and remove 37 Cheerios from her mouth.  She protests of course, because 37 Cheerios in her mouth at one time to Melissa is like the best thing that ever happened to her.  So we listen to her cry until Kevin can insert another one, this time with a stern warning from mom NOT to give her another until she chews and swallows.

So we get to Toys R Us (it's only 10 minutes away), unload the kids and our Jeep side by side umbrella stroller, and run inside.  Now it's time to take off the snowsuits because it's 93 degrees in the store.  This is not easy when you don't have anywhere to lay a baby down.  We somehow manage it through a complicated maneuver that involves Ken holding one baby suspended in air while I unzip and pull off her snowsuit with one hand while holding the other baby in my other hand.  It doesn't occur to me to put my baby down in the stroller while I attempt this.  I am very used to doing things with one hand, it comes natural to me. 

We finally get both babies out of the snowsuits (they are both sweating profusely, by the way) and into the stroller and off we go!!  Hooray!  We're shopping!  Like normal people!  We take 14 steps before we get to the Thomas the Tank Engine train set which the people who work at Toys R Us have thoughtfully set up for 4 year olds to play with.  They conveniently cram this exhibit in the middle of a toy aisle with approximately 3 inches of space on either side of it.  No way am I going to fit my trusty Jeep side by side umbrella stroller through there.  And no way am I going to get away with standing still- these girls want to move!  So Ken hangs around with Kevin and Thomas while I take the babies for a little stroll through the store.

Now having 2 babies in a side by side stroller makes you become A Novelty when you are in any store.  People stop in their tracks and stare at you.  Well, at the babies.  They don't really look at me at all which is usually a good thing.  They turn and whisper to their friend "Oh, look, twins- aren't they sweet?" and smile dreamily as they pass by.  Little kids are less shy- they run right up and yell "Mommy look!  Two babies!" and promptly stick their fingers into the girls' eyes or noses...it's really cute. 

Inevitably a sweet old lady stops me and asks if they are twins.  I say yes. She says rather accusingly, "Well, they don't look ANYTHING alike!"  I say, "Yes I know," and contemplate getting into a discussion about genetics in the middle of the toy store and quickly decide not to.   She asks if they are boys or girls.  She must not notice the pink outfits and the cute "I'm a girl" pony tails I painstakingly fixed before we left.  "They're girls," I say.  She will then ask how old they are, I will say they are almost a year old and she will say "But they're so small!" as though I don't feed them.  I contemplate getting into a discussion about prematurity and adjusted age in the middle of the toy store and quickly decide not to.  I just smile.  At this point Megan starts to twist around to look at me as if just remembering that I am actually here and able to possibly pick her up.  If you stop too long they do that.  She starts fussing and holding her arms out to me.  "I can see you have your hands full," says my new friend.  I smile ruefully and say "Yes, I do," and start to walk away.  She then says "Well they're very sweet," and I thank her.  As I am walking away she calls out  "Just wait until they're teenagers- they'll break your heart!"  Ah yes, another heartwarming discussion in the toy store.  Gotta love those sweet old ladies.

Our rhythm broken, the babies and I continue to circle Toys R Us with them fussing every time I stop which is often because there are people everywhere and displays in the middle of every row.  I am supposed to be looking for a Christmas present for my neice, so I try to shop but it is impossible since I can't make it down most of the aisles.  I spot a cute Hello Kitty stationary set halfway down one aisle but have to pass it up because the row is too crowded and if I stop we will have meltdown.  I take a lap.  Still too crowded.  I take another lap- yes!!  I leave the stroller 2 feet from me while I sidle down the aisle to grab my prize.  By the time I get back a sweet old lady is admiring the girls and eyeing me up like I am a child abuser for leaving them alone.  When I get to her she asks "Are they twins?"  and my fate is sealed.  By the time we are done chatting, both babies are screaming and I am ready to go home.  This new friend informs me that my hands are full and that when my girls are teenagers they will break my heart, and with this news ringing in my ears like Salvation Army bells, I set off to find Ken.

After we pay for our purchases, we decide to scrap the snowsuits and just wrap them around the babies.  Of course this means that the carseat straps are now too loose and I must use the "easy adjust" feature once again.  I get Kevin strapped in with a little less trouble because I never did fasten the one carseat that I moved back in before we left- oops!  We drive home to the lovely sound of babies wailing.  At this point even Cheerios don't work anymore.

When we get home, the girls are so happy to be free that they play beautifully together on the floor until bedtime.  I collapse exhausted on the couch and vow never to leave the house again until they are 4.  Or at least until next Friday  when we go to the grocery store.

Confessions of a So-Called Health Nut

Posted on 2007-Oct-8 at 02:57

Earlier this year I had my dad and brothers and sisters over for my kids' birthdays.  They think we are weird already because we drink goats’ milk and raise our own meat (oh, admit it, you guys, you do!), so they keep their eyes open for further weirdness when they come over.  The salt shaker was examined and questioned ("Why is your salt brown?), the chili contents discussed ("Did this meat used to live here?") and the hot dogs were under a general suspicion of being something called Not Dogs (which they were not).  When we sat down to eat I noticed my dad looking around uncertainly so I asked him what was wrong and he asked meekly:

 "Um, Leah, do you guys believe in mustard?"

I had to laugh!  But inside I cringed a little.  “Do I believe in mustard?  Why did he ask me that?”

About a month ago my sister came over with her daughter.  I offered her a cup of coffee and she sighed with obvious relief and said “Oh, I’m so glad you still drink coffee.”  This was because I had recently been reading about coffee and cancer and had sent out an email to my brothers and sisters on the subject with some unsolicited advice for them to quit drinking it if they knew what was good for them.  I quit for a month before caving in and getting the occasional cup of drive through Dunkin Donuts on the weekend.  Then it was twice a week.  Then it was anytime I drove past a coffee shop.  I decided I’d better go back to brewing it at home or we’d go to the poorhouse.    

Over the summer I went to the water park with my friend Maria.  We had agreed to bring lunch as to not pay the exorbiant prices for the food sold at the concession stands.  When we got there, Maria, being the nice sweet person that she is, asked if I would like something to munch on while we watched the kids swimming.  I of course said yes and she pulls out this gigantic bag of raw green pepper slices.  Later on she shared some grapes.  After awhile, the kids came back starving so I unpacked the nitrate laced salami sandwiches, oversalted, overbuttered  popcorn and (shudder) bright, unnaturally red Kool Aid drinks I had brought- not a healthy lunch, I admit, but it was a fun day so I packed a fun lunch.  My friend laughed as she watched me pass the junk food around and said “Here I was worried about what you would think of all the snacks I brought, and you brought Kool Aid!”  She then proceeded to break out her private stash of chips and double stuffed Oreos that she had been hiding from me. 

I reflectively munched an Oreo (green pepper slices had been quickly forgotten) and wondered how I had given Maria the impression of being a healthy food snob.  Do I act like a healthy food snob?  Do I sit around and give off disapproving vibes while other people are eating cookies?  Do I look down my nose while little children eat their fruit snacks?  Do I unconsciously curl my lip and roll my eyes when I see a Twix bar or a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos?  Well, do I? 

Maybe it’s this blog.  I have been known on occasion to rail against the ill effects of sugar and chemicals, I admit it.  I have touted what I believe to be the healing powers of certain herbs and have voiced my general disdain for much modern medicine.  I’m not shy about sharing my fear of grocery store meat, eggs and milk.  Maybe I just talk too much! 

I think what is in order here are a few confessions.  Maybe that will give everyone a clearer picture of who I really am.  Okay?  Here goes.

Confession #1:  I put sugar in my coffee.  Every day.  White sugar.  Oh, the shame of it all!  I had quit all sugar for a time and even wrote a very self righteous post about it awhile back.  So much for conviction.

Confession #2:  I buy baby food.  When I had Kevin I was a much better mother and made his baby food with my own two hands from organic fruit and vegetables.  Now I buy it in the little jars.  And it’s not even Gerber- it’s the Wal Mart brand.  Here is Megan and Melissa’s menu for the day:

Breakfast- ½ jar each of apples and blueberries baby food plus 47 Cheerios.

Lunch- 87 Cheerios and two bites of a banana.

Dinner- Mashed egg yolks (healthy!!), ½ small jar of green beans which they spit out all over their chins, hands, and bibs.  623 Cheerios.

Confession #3:  I am hopelessly addicted to McDonald’s soft serve ice cream cones.  If I am ever out alone, I make sure to have $1.08 with me so I can whip through the drive thru and get one.  Yes, I have memorized the price with tax included.

Confession #4:  I love lunchmeat from the deli.  I could exist on salami sandwiches if I thought it wouldn’t kill me.  I don’t buy it, but I look longingly at the “meat” behind the glass whenever I go to the grocery store.

So there you have it.  4 things you probably wouldn't have guessed about me.  Hopefully this will set the record straight to those of you who mistakenly think that I am a healthy food snob.  As you can see, I have my vices.  If you can call jarred baby food and soft serves vices.  I guess there are worse things.

And yes, I DO believe in mustard!

A Whole New Life

Posted on 2007-Sep-22 at 05:06

I knew this woman that died about 7 years ago.  She always seemed like a pretty nice sort, but after she died I began to see what a selfish, self-serving person she had been.  I realized that even though I spent countless hours in her presence, I didn't really like her very much.  I don't miss her at all now that she's gone, which is odd, since we spent so much time together.  As a matter of fact, I don't even like to think about her because the memory is so unpleasant.  I even have trouble looking at her pictures sometimes.

When she died, she left behind a husband and children.  Now you would think her own family would be sorry that she was gone, but they don't miss her at all.  As a matter of fact, the husband has a new wife now, and he has been heard to say that if the old wife ever came back somehow, he would tell her to leave!  The kids feel the same way.  They say that they wouldn't have that old mom back for anything.  Can you imagine?  This new mom has stepped in and completely taken her place.  

Many of her old friends don't even realize that she died.  Oh, they've noticed that she doesn't come around anymore, but they don't think she's really gone for good.  They say things like "Oh, she's moved on," or "She just grew up, she matured," or "This is just a phase she's going through."  I've tried to tell them that she's dead, that she won't be coming back, but they just smile and change the subject.  It seems to make them uncomfortable to talk about it. 

So who is this poor woman whose death has gone unmourned or, in some cases, unnoticed?  Well, she's...me!  This January will mark 7 years since I gave my life to Jesus, since the old me died and the new me was born.  That person I used to be is truly a dead person, and  I don't even like to visit the cemetery to tell you the truth.  The life I led up until January of 2001 was pretty much a waste of a life.  I do not look back on it fondly or tell myself that I was just young and dumb.  I look back on it as a waste. 

To be given a chance to start over, to be born again, is something I can't adequately put into words.  It is a gift so immense, so undeserved, so incredibly kind and beautiful...being forgiven is a wonderful thing, but being given a brand spanking new life to lead, well, what could be more perfect than that? 

"What is man,  that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?" Psalm 8:4 KJV  I am so thankful that God would even bother with the likes of me.  To think that God would reach out to a person that ignored him, disobeyed him, went her own way and made excuses for her behavior...to think that he would not only reach out to her but then completely forgive her and give her a new life...why?

Because He loves me, plain and simple.  All because of His love for me.

"Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

1 Corinthians 5:17 KJV

Spelling Lesson

Posted on 2007-Sep-19 at 09:45

I got a message regarding my spelling of the word "shoveling" in my last post.  Shoveling is one of those annoying words that can be spelled two ways.  As if spelling isn't difficult enough as it is. 

Main Entry: shovel
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): -eled or -elled; -el·ing or shov·el·ling
transitive verb
1 : to take up and throw with a shovel
2 : to dig or clean out with a shovel
3 : to throw or convey roughly or in a mass as if with a shovel <shoveled his food into his mouth>
intransitive verb : to use a shovel

I found the definitions of the word shoveling to be quite descriptive of my oldest son, Kenny.  He shovels the driveway in the winter (definition #1), he cleans out stalls (definition #2), and he eats dinner (definition #3). 

So there you go, everything you never wanted to know about the word shoveling.  Or shovelling.  Use your own judgement (or judgment).  I am not a spelling advisor (or adviser if you prefer).  Now don't you feel smart?   You can't say you don't learn anything when you read my blog!

Shoveling in a Blizzard

Posted on 2007-Sep-13 at 06:51

People ask me all the time what it's like having twin babies.  I like to tell them that it's like shoveling your driveway during a blizzard- you work really hard and think you've gotten somewhere, but then you turn around and you realize that everything you did has been undone.  Allow me to clarify with a sample day at my house. 

My day begins at 3:30 am when I hear Kevin whisper,  "Mommy, I'm wet!"  Thinking maybe this is a dream, I open my eyes a fraction of a millimeter to find him literally 2 inches from my face, which makes me leap pole-vaulter style out of bed.  Surprised to be on my feet so quickly, I wobble around my room for a few seconds until I am fully awake and then follow a wet- no make that saturated- Kevin to his room.  In the dark hallway I stumble over- what else- the Rescue Hero Command Center that someone has left out and nearly break my neck.  I get him into dry pajamas, change his bed, tuck him in with a kiss, and carefully pick my way around the Command Center to my room where I crawl back into bed.

This is of course Megan's cue to wake up for a bottle, because she can actually hear me go into REM sleep.   So she begins to cry.  I try to pretend it is the wind or maybe a dog barking or something, but I can't fool myself...I get her up, feed her and put her back down.  No problem!  Of course on my way out of her room I bang into the door and make a noise loud enough to wake the dead or at the very least, Melissa, who then begins to cry.  I get her up and bring her to my room to feed her.  She is very sleepy and just about ready to go back to bed when Ken's alarm goes off.  We have your typical heart-attack-inducing alarm clock, so of course both Melissa and I jump a mile, (my second large leap of the night- I sure get my exercise, don't I?) and her eyes fly open and stay that way.  I lay her back down wide awake, those two little dark eyes staring up at me in the dark.   I tiptoe around the door having learned my lesson and get halfway down the hall when I hear her begin to fuss.  I freeze in my tracks because for some reason I think that this will make her stop crying.  It works!  She stops after a few minutes, and I thankfully fall back into bed.  And lay there staring at the ceiling until 5:30 am when I give up and decide to take a shower.

The shower goes well, and I manage to get my room straightened and myself dressed without incident.  I go downstairs, looking forward to my morning cup of coffee much more than any person should when I realize with something just short of horror that I am out of cream.  I don't know about you, but I am not a black coffee kind of gal, so after a few minutes of berating myself for being so dumb as to run out of cream, I make myself some tea instead.  As I wait for the water to boil, I unload the dishwasher, start a load of laundry, and wash the blender that I left sitting out after Ken and I had smoothies the night before.  The smoothie residue has turned into cement overnight, so I am scrubbing pretty hard with the sponge when I stab myself with the blender blade right under my fingernail.  So now I am bleeding, sleep deprived, coffeeless and wondering what will happen next.

Eventually, I round up a cup of tea and curl up in my favorite morning spot on the couch.  Some days I read my bible or pray, some days I just zone out and think about the day ahead.  Either way, it's very peaceful.  For about 4 minutes or so.  That's when Kevin starts his campaign to get up early.  He comes down 6 or 7 times between 6am and 7am with a plethora of reasons why he can't possibly stay in bed another moment- he's sick, he's itchy, he's excited, he's cold, he's hot...I send him back up, but it's only a matter of time before he's back again.

Now it's almost time to go get the babies up for the day, so I prepare to do my morning pumping for them.  I get the machine all hooked up and ready when Kevin comes down again- this time he actually is sick for real and looking like he might puke any minute.  I put the pumping on hold and get him set up on the couch with a pillow and blanket and a bucket- just in case.  Of course, my brain knows that the pumping is on hold but my body is already in full pumping mode and sends the milk down anyway which means I now have two big wet spots on the front of my shirt.  At this point Kevin throws up- not in the convenient bucket I have provided him with of course but all over himself, the couch, the floor and the dog.  No time to change into a dry shirt- I throw a jacket on to cover it and get to cleaning.

I get the babies up and settle them on the floor- far away from Kevin- with toys while I make one last effort at pumping.  Melissa is beginning to scootch around and is immediately under the desk in the office playing with cords and wires.  I stop pumping, pull her out, and put her back on the blanket with the toys.  Megan falls backwards from where she was sitting and manages to avoid all 3 pillows I have surrounded her with and bangs her head on the floor.  As I comfort her, I hear the sound of glasses clinking.  I follow the sound and find Melissa under the dining room buffet playing with a box of canning jars I have had sitting there for about 2 weeks now.  I pick her up and bring her back to the blanket with the toys.  I sit Megan back up and rearrange her pillows to catch her in any direction she might fall.  I go back to the pump.  I manage to finish and give both babies their morning bottle.

As they eat, I make oatmeal for the other kids and call AAA to tow our van into the shop.  The AAA lady can't find our address in her computer and puts me on hold 4 times.  AAA has been to my house many times in the past 3 years, but according to this lady's computer, we do not exist on the map!  I dish out oatmeal and continue to hold and hold and hold.  Kevin is calling me and I keep telling him to wait a minute.  Megan falls forward on her face-the only spot I don't have a pillow- and starts wailing.  Melissa has gotten herself stuck under the coffee table.  Kevin pukes again, this time in the bucket!  Hooray!  Thank God for small favors.  I am still on hold.

Fast forward 2 hours.  The babies have napped and are happy.   The house is clean.  Kevin is asleep on the couch.  The big kids are finishing up their schoolwork.  The sun is shining, a cool breeze is blowing, all is good.  The AAA tow truck pulls up, and I start to go outside to talk to him when I look down and remember that my shirt has dried milk spots on it.  How could I forget to change my shirt??  I throw my jacket back on and go talk to the tow truck guy.  He loads up the van and leaves.  I go change my shirt.  I fold 4 loads of laundry.  I make lunch.  The big kids clean up.  I put all the little kids down for a nap.  I collapse on the couch and lay there feeling guilty for spending so much time on little kids and neglecting the big kids.  I call them in and read them 2 chapters of the book they always beg me to read.  I fall asleep in the middle of a sentence.  They let me.

I hear the babies and go get them up from their afternoon nap.  Kevin wakes up crying with a yucky tummy and a fever.  I carry him downstairs and put on a movie for him to watch.  I pull Melissa out from behind the entertainment center.  Megan falls over sideways and bangs her head on the floor.  I start dinner.  The big kids help with babies, set the table, straighten the house inside and out...what would I do without big kids?  I ask myself that question a lot.

At 6 pm Ken comes home, and I take the babies upstairs for a bath.  Kyle and I give them their bedtime bottles and cuddle them for a few minutes then put them to bed.  Whew!  We eat dinner and get things cleaned up.  Ken goes with a neighbor to pick up the van.  Kevin feels better and asks for me to read him a book which I do, and I even manage to stay awake until the end of it.  Ken returns with the van.  I go grocery shopping, drive through McDonalds for a well deserved ice cream cone, pick up feed for the chickens and trek back home.  Ken and I put away the groceries, I iron his clothes for the next day, we make smoothies and don't wash the blender again, I pump and we head to bed.

At 3:30 am I hear Kevin whisper "Mommy, I'm wet!"  And around and around we go.  Shoveling in a blizzard, that's me.  It's exhausting, but even though it may seem like I am not getting anything done, I know that this is temporary and will pass.  Even now things are so much easier than they used to be when the babies were newborn.  Yes, it's a little crazy, but I kind of don't mind it that much.  I know I will look back on these days and smile someday.  Someday.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to go change Kevin's bed, find Melissa, and somehow teach Megan to stop missing pillows.  Have a great day!

Invisible

Posted on 2007-Aug-30 at 11:13

I did not write this.  It was written by Nichole Johnson.  Someone posted it on The Family Homestead message board, and I found it so touching.  I hope it gives you as much to think about as it did me:

Invisible

by Nichole Johnson

I'm invisible.......


It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the
phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"


Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner,
because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.


Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Pick me up right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -- but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.


She's going ... she's going ... she's gone!


One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well.


It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."


It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."


In the days ahead I would read -- no, devour -- the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals-- we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.


A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it."


And the workman replied, "Because God sees."


I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was
almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over.


You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."


At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.


I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.


When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand-bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home.


And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."


As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.


Nichole Johnson

I'm No Shakespeare

Posted on 2007-Aug-29 at 02:24

I've received many, many emails and messages about this post on comparing.  My dad called me this morning after reading it and said it reminded him of a sonnet by William Shakespeare.  Me and William Shakespeare, that makes sense.  Talk about coming up short!  I looked it up and read it, and, wow, does Shakespeare know how to get his point across- I guess that's why he's Shakespeare and I'm just little ol' Leah Hillman.  Anyway, I wanted to post this because I thought it was just wonderful, and it says what I was trying to say only it will take a lot less time to read :)

Shakespeare's Sonnet #29

 When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

*******

 Now I'm sure old Bill was not referring to Jesus when he wrote those last six lines, but they so sum up the way I feel about Him.  Thanks, Dad, for reminding me of this beautiful sonnet!

All in a Day's Work

Posted on 2007-Aug-27 at 09:34

Today I picked these:

Not bad, huh?  Now if I can just manage to pick the remaining 10,000 tomorrow, I'll be caught up.  Don't you just love tomato season?

Homesteading Truth #2

Posted on 2007-Aug-24 at 03:41

Perhaps you recall "Homesteading Truth #1," which I posted a little over a year ago on my blog.  I haven't posted any other truths since then, but today I have finally got another one to share.

Homesteading Truth #2:

After handling fresh cayenne peppers from the garden with your bare hands, you should never EVER scratch your nose, adjust your contact lenses or bite your fingernails . 

Stay tuned for more truths which I will post when my nose stops running, my eyes stop tearing and I get some feeling back in my tongue.

Megan and Melissa- The Slideshow

Posted on 2007-Aug-22 at 05:15

Well, I can't figure out how to make this slideshow play here on the blog, so you'll have to click the link.  Aren't they just the cutest babies you ever saw?  I think so ;)  Enjoy!!

Megan and Melissa's Slideshow

The Evil Snare of "Compare"

Posted on 2007-Aug-20 at 03:42

  One bright fall day when I was 7 years old, I listened as my second grade teacher described our art project for the day.  We were going to make frames to go around our light switch covers in our bedrooms!  Enthralled, I fidgeted in my seat as she slowly passed out the card stock paper and special oil crayons that we would use.  Visions of my gorgeous light cover frame filled my head, and as soon as my materials were dropped on my desk, I fell to work.

The teacher had cut out a standard light cover sized rectangle from the center of each piece of card stock, and our job was to decorate the paper around the rectangle with whatever we chose.  I decided flowers would be pretty- a veritable garden of beautiful blooming flowers for me to enjoy every time I turned my light on!  What could be better than that?  I happily worked on my project, oblivious to everyone else around me.  When I was finished, I sat back and looked at my efforts with extreme satisfaction.  My project was perfect.  With my work completed, I began to look around at what everyone else in the class had come up with.  And I was not happy with what I found.

The girl in the desk next to mine had created a masterpiece of hearts and rainbows intricately linked together and covering her entire paper.  Her work was neat and clean and colorful.  I looked again at my project.  Now I was noticing that it looked a little smudgy and kind of messy really.  My colors had run into each other a bit, and some of my flowers looked, well, dead.

The boy behind me had constructed a space scene for his light switch to employ.  Comets and stars and rocket ships adorned his paper which he had painstakingly colored a deep dark blue, like a night sky.  You almost felt as if you were in space yourself!  I had never thought about putting a scene like that on my project.  All of a sudden flowers were so boring.

And then I took a look at Kimberly’s work.  Kimberly was the smartest, prettiest, funniest and nicest girl in our whole class.  Kimberly had come up with a light cover frame that Monet himself would have been proud to hang in his bedroom.  It was beautiful beyond words…clouds and birds and a sun that looked so real, you almost could feel the heat radiating from it.  It was the light switch cover frame to end all light switch cover frames.  Compared to hers, mine looked like nothing but a mass of scribbles that a kindergartener had scrawled. 

I never even hung my art project on the wall when I got home.  It sat forgotten in my book bag until it was scrunched up and ruined.  Any magic it had held for me had disappeared when held up to the light of what the others had done. 

And thus began my career in comparison that has lasted almost 30 years.

A large portion of my life has been spent seeing how I measure up to other people.  It started when I was young, and it continued into adulthood.  If I was better than someone, I was able to feel good about myself.  If I fell short, I became obsessed with whatever it was until I reached the goal which was to be the best.  And then I’d find another goal.

As a teen, I compared my clothes, my hair, my body and just about anything else that came up with those around me.  I set my sights on a certain crowd of kids that I wanted to be a part of, and I molded myself to become like them so that I would not only fit in but be a leader of the group.  I did not lack self confidence or self esteem.  I was very outgoing and had a lot of friends.  But inside I was constantly eyeing myself and those with whom I interacted.  How am I doing?  What do people think of me?  Am I missing something?  If so, how can I get it?

As an adult, I set my sights on other things, and the comparisons continued.  My wedding was not as big and as fancy as so and so’s wedding.  My baby didn’t sleep as well as my cousin’s baby.  No one else in my family with little kids lived far away.  My sister in law’s house looked like something out of a magazine.  My friend’s husband was making a ton of money.  The girl I worked with just had a baby and was thin already.  It was out of control.  Anytime someone shared something with me, my mind would take it and hold it up to my own life.  I would then judge myself better than that person and feel smug or not as good as that person and get frustrated.  There were so many times that I made myself- not to mention my husband- miserable.

Then one day 6 years ago, I got saved.  My life changed drastically, dramatically, overnight.  The things that had once seemed important to me had little to no meaning anymore.  As the song says

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus. 

Look full in his wonderful face! 

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,

In the light of his glory and grace!” 

Amen!  That was so true for me.  I no longer cared about what other people were doing or what they had, because what I had was the ultimate- I had Jesus as my best friend.  I was content with my husband, my children, myself.  I busied myself with caring for my home, into learning about nutrition and natural ways of staying healthy because it was what God wanted of me.  I knew it would please Him.  I read and read about being a godly wife and mom, about how I could be a better help meet to my husband.  I had fun putting what I was learning into practice.  I prayed daily for the Lord to refine me, to make me what He wanted me to be.  I was focused on the life and the gifts I had been given.  I have never been so satisfied in all my life. 

But old habits die hard. 

In my quest to become a better wife and mom, I joined an online message board that was designed to teach younger women like myself how to be keepers at home.  I also began to spend time “in real life” with other Christian women that had similar interests as me.  I met many ladies online and in person that seemed to do everything just right.  Their husbands were godly, strong men.  Their children flourished.  Their homes sparkled.  I looked at my fledgling efforts with new eyes.  I wanted what they had.  I threw myself anew into housekeeping, homeschooling, child training in an effort to attain it, but somehow things weren’t going so well.

I kept reading and talking and comparing.  I compared my scrawny, measly faith with the faith of some of these more godly women and found myself wanting.   I wished I was more organized like this one or that one.  I lamented that I was not more gentle, more loving, more nurturing to my children the way my friend was.  Much like that second grader years before, as I began to look around me I was not happy with what I found.  My satisfaction with my life took an ugly turn, and I was no longer content.

It wasn't that my life wasn't good, it was, but I became addicted somehow to achieving things.  And even when I would master something, my satisfaction was temporary- there was always something on the horizon that I “needed” to do.  I became very frustrated.  I started to slide back into some bad habits I thought I had left behind forever- losing my temper with my kids, complaining to my husband, wasting time on the computer… and then I would beat myself up because of course, so and so never yelled at her kids or complained to her husband or wasted time on the computer.  This would make me feel down and sad and I reacted by being short tempered, complaining, wasting time…you see the vicious cycle?  This trap, this snare of comparing myself to others, was now reaching out and grabbing those around me that I loved the most- my own husband and children.

In the morning when I was alone, I would pray and ask the Lord to show me what to do.  I would promise Him that I would try to be happy.  I would vow not to take my frustration out on my family.  Every day I would beseech Him to fix me, to make my heart right. 

But it wasn’t happening!  Daily I would see something in my home that would get to me- a messy barn, an unweeded garden, laundry piled up to here- and I would think “Why can’t I have a neat clean place like (insert name)?  I can’t stand it another minute!”  And then there it was…I was worked up and angry, and soon I would be taking it out on whoever happened to get in my way.  This is just one example of the way I had trained myself to think.

I thought that because I was aspiring to be a better Christian woman, that it was okay to hold myself up to those who were obviously living godly lives, to try to be like them- that’s who God would want me to be like, right?  He would want me to find good examples and emulate them, wouldn’t He?  But they all seemed so perfect, and I just couldn’t be like them, not completely.  I was always lacking.  Why, if I was a Christian who loved the Lord, was I unable to do the things that these other ladies were doing so easily?

A nice lady that reads my blog sent me an email a few months ago.  She told me how much she enjoyed reading my thoughts and about my family, and then she shared with me her struggle to have what I had with my husband and kids…she told me that she sometimes felt hopeless because it was so far off…she felt like giving up a lot, but she wanted me to know that it was stories like mine that kept her trying, because she so wanted her life to turn out the way mine was.

Friends, it just about broke my heart.  Here I knew the truth about myself, that I was about as imperfect as it gets, that I messed up on a daily basis, that I, without the mercy of God Himself, was nothing and could do nothing and here was a person aspiring to be like…me!  Because I, like many people, tend to blog about positive things, things that work, things that are admirable, I was causing this woman and who knew how many others to hold themselves up to my example and find themselves wanting. 

It was after reading that email that I recognized the trap.  Satan had fooled me.  And it wasn’t just me.  There were others out there, too, who were feeling badly about themselves for not making the grade.  This was an exciting realization, and it has taken me months to sort out what I have learned.  I have tried to post this so many times, but I couldn’t get it down exactly right.  So here is my best effort at explaining what God has so graciously shown me. 

What I have learned is that it isn’t right to try to be like anybody else, even if that person loves God and desires to please Him, because you can’t ever succeed unless you are doing these things to please God.  You can’t fake being into housekeeping or cooking or canning or knitting or homesteading or whatever other wholesome activity you admire in another person and hope that it will stick to you somehow because that’s what other Christian women do.  It doesn’t work if it’s not from your heart. 

Back when I first got saved, I made dinner every night with a joyful, singing heart because I was doing it under the loving gaze of my heavenly Father.  I was caring for the family He had seen fit to give me, and I was doing the best I could do for Him and Him only.  I wasn’t doing it to try to fit the mold of Christian Mom or Christian Wife.  I wasn’t trying to be as good as someone else.  When I started doing that, I was unable to succeed because my heart was wrong.  I was living only to please myself.

So what can you do if you find yourself caught in this trap?

  What you can do is devote yourself to Jesus daily- every single day- and tell Him that you are thankful for His gift to you.  Thank Him for making you good enough for God Himself- good enough to enter the throne room of heaven someday with your head held high, able to tell the Creator of the universe that the blood of Jesus paid for your sins.  That’s how good enough you are!  The only person you should compare yourself to is Jesus Christ Himself- and He has given you His perfect life in exchange for your sinful one.  For free!  So in God’s eyes, the only eyes that matter, you are perfect.  You measure up.  End of comparison!

When you read about or speak with someone who seems to “have it all,” when you don’t measure up, remember that there are times that the person you admire most doesn’t either.  Then remember what Jesus did for you, and go about your day basking in His love.  You may find yourself succeeding in things that were once out of reach, or you may find that those things you wanted so badly don’t really matter all the much anymore.  You will surely find satisfaction in serving your Savior, that’s for sure.  And you will finally have freed yourself from the Evil Snare of Compare.

It’s a wonderful thing, to be free!

A Year Ago Today...

Posted on 2007-Aug-12 at 03:48

A year ago today my mom was still alive.  Now she's not.

~

She was sick, very sick, with pancreatic cancer, a disease that quickly took her life not two months after her diagnosis.

~ 

A year ago today we were making schedules of people to come and sit with her, planning menus for her, looking into all kinds of treatments...a year ago today we thought that all of that mattered.  But it didn't really.

~

A year ago today when I called the house, it was mom who answered the phone.  She was weak and sick, but she always sounded happy to hear from me.

~

A year ago today I thought I might lose her.  And then I did.  A year ago today I didn't know if I could handle it if she died.  Now I know that I can, although it's very difficult sometimes.

~

A year ago today, I put my mom's hand on my belly and told her that some day she would hold my babies.  She never would answer me or talk about them.  At the time it hurt my feelings, but now I know that it was just too hard for her.  When I look in their little faces it's hard to believe they will never know her.

~

A year ago today she was in pain.  Now she's not.  I am so thankful for that.

~

Sometimes I go back, like today, and think about the way it all happened.  Sometimes I cry.  Sometimes I get angry.  I always get that feeling of disbelief and wonder  "How could this have happened?"

~

A year ago today I was strengthened by my heavenly Father in order to face the hard times that were ahead.

~

That strength remains.

~

A year ago today...it all seems to have happened so long ago.  Then again, sometimes it seems like it all just happened yesterday. 

~

A year ago today I thought I knew what it was like to miss somebody.

~

I didn't know anything about it.

~

Now I know.

~

I love you, Mom, and I miss you every day.

Camp Hillman

Posted on 2007-Aug-6 at 02:46

So how does a family with 7 month old twins go camping?  They pitch a tent in the garden, that's how.  At least that's how we did it.

~

A week ago Saturday Ken presented the kids with a list as long as my arm of things that needed to be done around our place.  He told them that if we got the work done in a reasonable amount of time, we could set up the tent and he would sleep out there with them.  Everyone worked hard, and by about 4 o'clock I found myself out in the garden trying to figure out which poles went into which sleeves and where on earth did we put the tent stakes anyway? 

~

I am the official tent-setter-upper in the family, and it is a yearly ritual for me to very unattractively lose my composure while doing so.  I also am the official lights-putter-onner for our Christmas tree.  Same scenario.  I basically start out in a happy mood and then disintegrate into a frustrated sweaty mess by the time I'm done. 

~

It starts out with those annoying tent poles.  They do not stay together properly and they always get caught when you are trying to thread them through the sleeves on the top of the tent.  They used to have numbered stickers on them to tell me where they went, but someone tore the stickers off so now it's a guessing game that I usually lose and end up having to start over.  Why would they put stickers on tent poles to tell you where the poles go?  Stickers?  Don't they know kids love stickers, especially pulling them off of things?  I would think engraving the numbers onto something would be a better way to go.

~

And then there are the tent stakes.  We ALWAYS lose the tent stakes and end up having to run to the store to buy more.   This year was no exception, but I refused to believe they were missing.  You can get about 100 of them for a buck, but it was the principle of the thing. I marched down into the basement and began to search.  And search.  And search.  No tent stakes.  I did find a part to my vacuum cleaner that I thought was missing and a nice picture frame I forgot about.  Plus several thousand spiders.  But no tent stakes.  I was getting pretty mad at this point and decided I would sing to put myself in a better mood.

~

"To God (bang!)  be the glory , great things He has done!" (slam! crash!).  Embarassing childish display.  After the first verse I am pleased to say I was sufficiently calm again and singing much more sincerely.  Hymns have a way of doing that to me.  Once I got through the second verse I decided that going to the store and buying tent stakes was not the end of the world, and I gave up my search.

~

Two hours later, the tent was erected (and staked down), the babies were asleep in their cribs and the campfire was built.  We sat in our garden around a crackling fire with the animals quietly grazing behind us.  It was a beautiful evening, cool and clear with a full moon.

~

~

The boys gathered up a bunch of firewood, and we roasted a few hot dogs over the fire. 

~

~

 Kevin had his very first S'More.

~

~

All in all, it was a very fun camping trip.  Everybody had a great time sleeping in the tent.  I had the best time of all because as soon as it was bedtime, I walked up to the house and slept in my nice soft bed.

~

Now that's what I call camping!

~

Chips Off the Old Blog

Posted on 2007-Jun-28 at 05:01

What started out as my sly way of slipping a writing project into our summer has turned into full blown blog-o-mania!  My 3 oldest children have been working feverishly at their new hobby and are about ready to go live.  Actually, Kenny has already posted one entry.  So please visit if you have the notion:

http://homesteadblogger.com/kenny

http://homesteadblogger.com/kyle

http://homesteadblogger.com/kait

Thanks, and enjoy!

The Last Word

Posted on 2007-Jun-7 at 11:18

This morning I was talking with my father in law about my oldest son.  Lately it seems as though he has an answer for everything.  For example, he came in with his nice shorts peppered with bleach stains from adding chlorine to the pool.  When I asked him why on earth he wore a good pair of shorts to shock the pool, he said they weren't that nice.  I pointed out that they were nice shorts and that he had already ruined quite a few pairs by being careless.  He said they weren't ruined, just a little stained.  On and on.  This happens all day long.  I was relating a few of these stories to my father in law and telling him how frustrating it was for me to deal with.  I told him that I didn't know where this behavior had come from and, although he is not exactly disrespectful in his words, it seems as though my authority and opinions are always being challenged.

~

As those words fell from my lips, my mind reeled back to a conversation I'd had with my husband last night.  He had told me not to put a stained t shirt into the dryer because it would bake in the stain.  He suggested I let it air dry and then wash it again.  I said that was an old wives tale.    He said that is wasn't an old wives tale, it had happened to him with his own clothing.  I said it was a coincidence then because I get stains out all the time from clothes that have gone through the dryer.  He countered with his opinion, I with mine.  On and on.  We weren't exactly arguing or even bickering, it was just a conversation that kept going and going and going with no end.

~

This morning he'd called me on his way to work and as we were talking we got into a little back and forth about how or where my youngest son had caught a cold.  He was concerned about the babies catching it.  I said they probably wouldn't and that Kevin had caught it because he'd been eating too much junk lately.  He said that although that may have weakened him a bit, germs are germs and are there no matter what you eat.  If the germs are in the house, the babies could very well catch his cold.  I answered something back.  He corrected me.  I said something else.  On and on.  Exasperated, he finally asked me why I always had to have the last word about everything.  Of course, I answered back that I did NOT always have to have the last word and that he was imagining things!!

~

As I sat there contemplating, I came up with no less that 10 examples of similar scenarios over the past weeks where I just had to get the last word.  Sometimes it's about how or when the babies sleep.  Sometimes it's about when to start them on solid food.  Sometimes it's about how we discipline.  There are so many times that I don't out and out disagree with him, but I answer back to every single thing he says!

~

What, I wonder is the difference between what my boys are doing to me and what I am doing to Ken in these situations?  Is there any difference?  According to God, Ken is my authority.  He is my head.  When I answer back and answer back and question and disagree with all these little things, it is ANNOYING.  I  know, because when the boys do it to me it is ANNOYING.    It's more than annoying, it's very troubling at times.  It causes me grief and worry.  And I am seeing that the reason they are doing it is because they have picked it up from me.  Me!  I feel very enlightened and excited about this.  By just changing my own poor attitude, I will possibly see a change in my own children.

~

I need to really start remembering that these young people we are raising are soaking up my attitude, my mannerisms, my habits...they may hear my words, but they are listening to my actions.  Every fault I've got is manifested in my children.  I can so easily pick them out when I see them in others, but I am pretty slow at it when it comes to changing myself. 

~ 

Thank God that He is merciful and can still work in their lives despite the mistakes I make every day.  I am so grateful that I am already forgiven for the times I mess up, that Jesus already died for it all and that I remain blameless in the eyes of God.  I am so grateful to Him for showing me what I need to do and giving me the strength and the wisdom to do it.  I serve an amazing God, one whose patience, love and grace so far surpasses what I deserve...how could I not desire to please Him?

~ 

 Today I am exceedingly thankful that He took the time to show me, in one casual conversation over coffee with my father in law, how to make a change that will affect the very souls of my children.  The Holy Spirit does indeed speak so clearly, if I only I choose to hear Him.

MOBUOY

Posted on 2007-Jun-4 at 11:34

I recognize fellow soldiers wherever I go.  We are a weary lot with vacant, staring eyes accentuated by dark circles underneath.  We have our hair in no nonsense pony tails with those little wiry stick out hairs that just won't lay flat no matter what we do poking up obstinately in front.  Many of us are shedding.  We wear the unmistakable badge of a spit up stain on each shoulder.  Our fingernails are short and unpolished, our eyebrows, untweezed.  We smell of fenugreek and strained carrots.  Some of us are dressed, but many of us are wearing our pajama pants.  We cry easily.

We wander through our days nibbling at housework and cookies.  We constantly forget what day it is and are always surprised when a new month rolls around.  The months seem to pass so quickly but the days...oh the days can be endless!

Who are we, you ask?  We are Mommies of Babies Under One Year (MOBUOY).  You've probably never heard of us because we don't go anywhere or talk to anyone.  I thought it was time we went public.  If you'd like to join us, you can do so anytime, we are always accepting new members.  Come on over for- what else- a cup of very strong coffee and a hug.  You look like you could use both.

Maybe you don't qualify for membership yet, but one day you may find yourself with your own BUOY. On the day that you are just about to lose your grip on that final shred of sanity you have left you will open your front door and find an ex-MOBUOY member wearing a big smile and clothes that match and fit properly with no spit up stains on them.  She will be well rested and ready to help.  She will be carrying a bag full of homemade sub sandwiches (Thanks, Auntie Jayne!) or perhaps a crockpot full of chili (Thanks, Tracy!) or, if you are really lucky, some homemade beef barley soup (Thanks, Auntie Lorraine!- oh wait, you're coming NEXT week- don't take that as a hint or anything).  They will stay and eat with you and they will tell stories of how they got through that dreadfully wonderful first year... and you will be left feeling refreshed and not so alone anymore.    And they always always bring dessert.

As you can tell, I am sleep deprived and silly.  Don't hold this against me.  It's only temporary!

Pictures

Posted on 2007-Jun-1 at 08:11

Megan and Melissa are growing fast and getting sooooo cute!  They are still not sleeping through the night, but I live in hope.  They are pretty good nappers, though.  They smile and laugh and jabber all day long.  We are all enjoying them very much.

~

Megan (left) and Melissa

'Lil Miss Megan

I found Melissa in this predicament after leaving an oversized book propped up on a table leg for her to look at:

Snakes in the Grass (and between the rocks, and all over the yard, and behind the garage and...)

Posted on 2007-May-20 at 06:40

When we moved out to "the country" I expected we'd be able to admire wildlife up close and personal-  you know, deer, foxes, perhaps a coyote in the distance, an occasional soaring eagle...those types of things.  I did not, however, bank on having a veritable snake farm in my backyard.   Beavers, possums, raccoons, fine.  Snakes?  This was not in the brochure. 

I'm not exactly afraid of snakes, but I don't like them either.  I don't mind seeing them at the zoo or on tv.  I do not want to catch them, hold them or train them.  My kids have not inherited my distaste for the slithery guys though, they love them.  My daughter Kaitlyn, animal psychiatrist, has them analyzed and knows what kind of snake personality they have within 5 minutes of grabbing them by the tail.  The first one she caught, Rocky (found between some rocks), was a sweet, loving snake that enjoyed being stroked behind the ears (ears?) and liked being carried around all day.  He was also about 3 feet long and scary looking.  I thought little girls who lived in the country liked horses and puppies.

Today the kids caught a fox snake.  Supposedly harmless if you trust reference books.  But also BIG LONG AND SCARY.  They took pictures so everyone could share the joy. 

This is my dear sweet daughter holding the snake.  It was a proud moment.

Here is my son holding the snake.  Notice that this is not the whole snake.  The back end of him is squirming around somewhere behind Kenny's back (shudder):

Here is a nice shot of the snake slithering toward the person taking the picture (which was NOT ME).  Again, notice that his whole body doesn't even fit into the frame he is so big:

And one last shot for all you snake lovers out there.  This is a different snake the kids found last week.  Yes, he is eating a toad.  Yes, it is disgusting.  Yes, we took pictures:

So there you have it, a lovely photo album of all our snake pals.  I am hoping it will be too hot for snakes soon.  This is not the kind of wildlife I had in mind.  Until then, I'm staying in the short grass.  And away from rocks.

Swedish Egg Coffee

Posted on 2007-May-12 at 05:08

I don't usually post recipes, but I had to share this one.  This is the weirdest thing!  My aunt told me about this coffee recipe, and it was so bizarre-sounding I had to try it.  It was THE BEST coffee I have ever had!  I don't know why or how, I just know that I know coffee, and this was some good coffee.

~

Swedish Egg Coffee

10-12 cups water

1 cup regular grind coffee

1 egg

1 cup ice cold water

In a small bowl, mix coffee and egg.  Some recipes say to mix the egg in shells and all, but we just did the egg part.  Bring the 10 cups of water to a boil in a pot.  Add some (about 1/2 cup or so) of the hot water to the coffee mixture.  Add coffee mixture to the pot of hot water.  Stir and heat until it comes to a rolling boil.  Remove from heat and add the 1 cup ice cold water.  Let sit 10 minutes.

The egg and grounds settle to the bottom of the pot leaving you with a dark, honey-colored coffee.  Now I hate grounds in my coffee, so just to be sure we strained each cup through a milk filter, but supposedly you shouldn't have to do that.  It was the smoothest, best tasting coffee EVER!  This is my new weekend indulgence.

Oh, and it reheats beautifully.  We let it get cold and I reheated a cup later.  It was just as good as the first time around!