Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Never Slept On a Pea

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

I'll Poke Your Eye Out

No, wait. That's supposed to be, "You'll poke your eye out!" Not here, though. Not in this family.

Poor Son3...

"C'mere. I'm going to need some help getting these things stuffed in this envelope. Here, you hold this open, while I try to poke them in."

"Okay .......... OUCH!"

Oopsie. Never try to cram a refrigerator into a breadbox, and no matter how malleable the contents, don't attempt to overstuff a padded mailer. Your hands may slip, and your fingernails may poke your son's eye out.

Of course, if said son isn't so curious and requiring an up-close-and-personal view of the stuffing, he won't have his face two inches from the envelope opening, and you won't get all hysterical and laugh like a hyena when you lay open his flesh, being clumsy and all, and having a strange sense of humor.

Well, he didn't BLEED or anything. *phflubb*

It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. ~Lamentations 3:22, 23

Sunday, November 11, 2007


The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. ~Deuteronomy 33:27a

As for God, his way is perfect; the word of the Lord is tried: he is a buckler to all them that trust in him. ~II Samuel 22:31

Oh how great is thy goodness, which thou hast laid up for them that fear thee; which thou hast wrought for them that trust in thee before the sons of men! ~Psalms 31:19

How excellent is thy lovingkindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. ~Psalm 36:7

Homemade Granola - Stop!

Don't do it. Or if you do it, find someone with one of those blogs or websites with photo-illustrated, step-by-step directions, and do as she did. I love those things. I'm not a tutorially-instructed cook (maybe I should be!), but I'll gaze at a photo of anything.

I made granola. It's kinda ucky. It doesn't even look good, as evidenced by the arms reaching this morning for boxed cereal and Dolly Madison's cinnamon bread.

It's healthy though; heavily laced with flax seed. Of course, after I bought my whole flax seed, I learned that milled flax seed is a better form for delivering the flax goodies. Bother. Well, I'm chewing very thoroughly -- mouth-milling. And my flax seeds are time-release goodness: I'm sure I'll be spending hours prodding the little buggars from between my teeth.

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast. ~Ephesians 2:8, 9

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Google Not (.)

Take especial note of the fact that the title of this yammer isn't one of my imaginary, compound words. I think I'll go back and put a period in it: a command, a sentence with the understood You as the subject... There. That looks good. *brushing hands*

I took a look at my stats monitor this morning, and some poor soul landed in the October archive of my inane blog when they googled with this criterion:

www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=MAKING A PERFECT SHEETROCK PATCH

They were awfully serious about that sheetrock patch: typed it in all caps and wanted it to be perfect. I can't imagine the searcher dropping by again, being vexed and all by my blather about a parade, SugarPlum lying in the kitchen floor, a woolly worm eating a banana for breakfast, (and our sorely imperfect sheetrock patch). But, Searcher, just in case you do err and one day google pygmy CowNots...I'm sorry?

Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another: and the Lord hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name. And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him. ~Malachi 3:16-17

Thursday, November 8, 2007


conversation in the W*M parking lot

CarolineNot: I think I wish I hadn't worn this stupid sweater.

Son4: That's not a stupid sweater. I like it.

CarolineNot: Well, I wish I'd realized I was wearing these stupid black shoes. I would have changed to another pair. And don't tell me they're not stupid, because I know they are.

Son4: I like your stupid black shoes.

But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven. ~Matthew 19:14

Monday, November 5, 2007


With the pantry finished (except I still need to make a skirt for that water heater) and reloaded, when I was preparing to fry chicken and saw that my supply of coconut oil was sparse, I looked for the lard. When I didn't spy it in the pantry right away, I thought maybe we'd failed to put it back, so I walked to the den, where Charles and Son3 were watching the Chiefs game, and asked, "Has anyone seen lard sitting around?"

I reckon I cued them up right proper, because each immediately said, "Yeah," and pointed to the other. They both burst into laughter, so pleased with themselves. I checked corners in the living room for an overlooked bucket of lard, then scoured the pantry again and did find it -- no thanks to the jokesters -- hiding behind a couple of jars of peanut butter.

As I rinsed those chicken thighs and checked for large slabs of skin which butchers tuck beneath the tidily packaged meat, I remembered the day when I offered my assistance in my new mother-in-law's kitchen, nearly 30 years ago. "Well, yes, you can help me get the fat off of this chicken," she said, and she told me where to find a knife.

Clutch. Bigtime clutch. I wanted to make a good impression on my mother-in-law, and I'd helped my own mother cook since I was a wee child, but I'd never cut fat from a chicken in my life. Moreover, I was in a world of hurt when I selected my first piece to work on, because I was locating precious little fat, and what little bits I could find, I was having a whale of a time removing. It seemed to me that this strange task might be better performed with a magnifying glass and a surgeon's scalpel, but I stayed the course.

Managing to discover and remove a little quarter-inch strip of fat from that first piece, I moved on to the second, feeling more nervous and inept with each passing moment. When piece number two was yielding no fat at all, I gathered my courage and said, "You know, I'm having a really hard time finding any fat on this chicken."

She turned, looked at me and my two pieces of chicken, then said, "Well, it's right there. See."

I looked at my chicken pieces...then I looked at her chicken pieces...and that's when I discovered she was pulling the SKIN from her chicken. "Oh! You want the skin off!"

Blending families. You should have heard me laughing the first time Charles said, "Hmm, that's a water bug."

"A water bug," I said. "A water bug? What are you talking about? That's a roach!" Having moved around the country and lived in more houses than I can count, we've encountered a few "water bugs" over the past few decades and always share a good laugh over them as we exterminate. OUR home has never had roaches, because I married into the right family.

We have plenty of chicken fat and lard, too.

And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day. ~John 6:40

Thursday, November 1, 2007


Not - Not - Not
What is this fascination with the negative?

[After reading my blog yesterday, OAO Daughter laughed and said, "That was intense." Okay, my abhorrence for the season was tweaked the day before by that little 4-year-old sitting in the shopping cart with a macabre skeleton mask on his face. His mama likes seeing him like that? *shudder* Faux death -- I just can't grasp or share the attraction.]

So we'll try to lighten things up again. And this morning it's not about whether the glass is half full or half empty:

It's not a glass; it's a mug. It was full of a fresh, homemade cappuccino. As is my practice, when I'd drunk to the halfway (full/empty) point, I strolled to the kitchen to refill with fresh coffee. Just as I began pouring -- in other words, when it was too late -- I noticed that black speck in the spout. Rats! Or Gnats! Aughhh, was that a gnat?! Whatever it was, it was in my mug. And I find wasting more distasteful than consuming insects.

So I went fishing with a spoon, and even now, I don't know if that was a gnat or a coffee ground. Neither do I know if any of the floaties I fished out was the suspicious, offending addition to my mug. I reckon a little protein to grab those mega-carbs I'd sugared into that cappuccino isn't all bad. IntenseNot.

There's skunkage atop my head. Expecting guests this month, a few weeks ago I began carefully plotting the best time to color my hair, so it would be lookin' good when company arrived. Numerous date changes and cancellations have produced a large, sparkly stripe about which I know not now what to do. Rats! Or Skunks! I'll figure out something, and it may be about hiding in the house for a couple of weeks. IntenseNot.

We'd no sooner cleaned up the destroy-the-den mess, when we decided to destroy the pantry. Applying trim to the newly paneled, pantry walls (sounds easy enough) has slowed us down. "Would you go to the living room and get me some crackers?" Rats! Or Man, Is This Place Ever a Mess! IntenseNot. (<---lying / confession is good for the soul)

Glass or mug
Coffee ground or bug
Rats, Skunks,
Or graying chunks
An empty pantry
I'm no Elmer Gantry (oh hush -- it rhymes!)

It's an IntenseNot day on the farm.

[Postscript: Uncultured swine that I am, I decided these hours later to find out who Elmer Gantry is/was and availed myself of the services of Wikipedia, where I learned he is a fictional character from the mind of Sinclair Lewis. Who knew? Moreover, said character is a quite unsavory fellow, the creation of which found Lewis' work banned in Boston. You don't say. My poetic (*cough*) closing stands.]

For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised: he also is to be feared above all gods. For all the gods of the people are idols: but the Lord made the heavens. Glory and honour are in his presence; strength and gladness are in his place. ~ 1 Chronicles 16:25-27