Maybe a Little More Solemnity With All These Hot Dogs

I like holidays.

I do.

I like seeing family and enjoying good food and the celebration of being alive and so forth and whatnot.

And i like it even more because i know that God likes celebration.  Every time you turn around in the Bible, God is designating another holiday.  He's cool like that.

Thing is, i think we do too much celebrating and not enough consideration of why we're celebrating.

God's model for celebration often starts with fasting -- then feasting.  The fasting time, for getting your heart in the right place and realizing what it is you celebrate, and so on.

I find it interesting that the two American holidays which mark the deaths of those who gave their lives for our freedom, are taken the most casually, often with hamburgers and hot dogs and swimming pools, but rarely with any consideration for what it is we often fail to hold dear.  Our freedom.

I heard a speech by a man i'd never heard of, this week.  His name is Dennis Prager.  He is a Jewish man, who is an American and a scholar and a radio host and a lot of other things.  I had never paid any attention to him before, but i happened to hear this speech, and i became at least a tentative fan.  Anyway, in his speech, he mentioned how he thought that Americans should treat Independence Day kind of like Jews treat Passover.  They are both a celebration of the gift of freedom.  But at Passover, time is taken to remember the suffering of those who did not have that freedom - and how they were delivered.  This information and tradition is passed from generation to generation, and has been for thousands of years, so the children don't forget.

Sadly, when Americans celebrate their freedom, they usually just grill meat and sink a lot of money into fireworks.  Their children have very little notion what this is all about.  They especially have very little notion of what it was like for those who did not have our freedoms.  And thus, less than 250 years after the fact, our population seems to not hold our freedom so dear.  I would like to think of a way to bring a little more solemnity to our celebrations of freedom.  I'm not sure how yet.  I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas and traditions.

I thank God for the thousands who gave their lives, thinking of me.  Believing that freedom for their country outweighed the value of their individual lives, thousands and thousands of men and women have died to invest in the freedom of you and me.  Thank you to every soldier and every American who gave and who gives to preserve liberty.  Thank you to every one who has lost a loved one to the cause of freedom.

A Happy and Solemn and Peaceful Memorial Day to you.

Not So Silly

The news stinks lately, doesn't it?

It seems like pretty much every other day, there is a report of some horrible disaster, seemingly ruining the lives of hundreds or thousands of people, and those reports seem to be closer to home lately.  It's really too much to comment on, or i would be posting every ten minutes about the newest news item.

It might be easy to think, for some, that God's not paying any attention.

Recently, i've wondered if God was ignoring me when i asked for things completely unrelated to floods or tornadoes.  Just personal stuff.

Then i had an unusual reminder that He's listening to every little thing.

This is going to seem like i'm side-tracking, but i'm not.

When i was a little girl, i recall having board-straight hair.  With the exception of a very unfortunate cow-lick in the off-centered middle of my forehead, not a wave in sight.  Neither a wave to be found in my family gene pool that i could see.  But still, as a teenager, i prayed for curls.

Silly, right?

Maybe.

I remember somewhere around my senior year in high school/freshman year in college, noticing one lone hint of a ringlet and thanking God for answering my prayer.

Fast forward 15-20 years.

On Sunday, a beautiful friend at church complimented my hair, noticing the curls/waves that are easily accentuated by my new hair cut.  During the course of our conversation, i mentioned what i'd nearly forgotten over all the years.  I told her how i'd prayed for curls.

God often uses my own words to remind me of Himself, and somehow, all these years later, all these hard-to-control, often frizzy, thankful waves on my head, are reminding me.  They're like a message straight from Heaven.

"I am too listening  What's that on your head?!"

Isn't that silly?  Maybe.  But my faith is re-encouraged.  The knowledge that even though our prayers are not generally answered exactly the way we think they will be, He's always listening.  Our time frames are generally not in sync either.  But He's listening and answering and caring.

He weeps with us when we have sorrow.  He rejoices with us when we are glad.  And He listens to the smallest request.  Even the vain request of  teenager, asked in faith, He can turn around to be a reminder of His faithfulness in all the areas that matter so much more.

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you.  Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about what happens to you.
1 Peter 5:6-7

The news stinks lately, doesn't it?

It seems like pretty much every other day, there is a report of some horrible disaster, seemingly ruining the lives of hundreds or thousands of people, and those reports seem to be closer to home lately.  It's really too much to comment on, or i would be posting every ten minutes about the newest news item.

It might be easy to think, for some, that God's not paying any attention.

Recently, i've wondered if God was ignoring me when i asked for things completely unrelated to floods or tornadoes.  Just personal stuff.

Then i had an unusual reminder that He's listening to every little thing.

This is going to seem like i'm side-tracking, but i'm not.

When i was a little girl, i recall having board-straight hair.  With the exception of a very unfortunate cow-lick in the off-centered middle of my forehead, not a wave in sight.  Neither a wave to be found in my family gene pool that i could see.  But still, as a teenager, i prayed for curls.

Silly, right?

Maybe.

I remember somewhere around my senior year in high school/freshman year in college, noticing one lone hint of a ringlet and thanking God for answering my prayer.

Fast forward 15-20 years.

On Sunday, a beautiful friend at church complimented my hair, noticing the curls/waves that are easily accentuated by my new hair cut.  During the course of our conversation, i mentioned what i'd nearly forgotten over all the years.  I told her how i'd prayed for curls.

God often uses my own words to remind me of Himself, and somehow, all these years later, all these hard-to-control, often frizzy, thankful waves on my head, are reminding me.  They're like a message straight from Heaven.

"I am too listening  What's that on your head?!"

Isn't that silly?  Maybe.  But my faith is re-encouraged.  The knowledge that even though our prayers are not generally answered exactly the way we think they will be, He's always listening.  Our time frames are generally not in sync either.  But He's listening and answering and caring.

He weeps with us when we have sorrow.  He rejoices with us when we are glad.  And He listens to the smallest request.  Even the vain request of  teenager, asked in faith, He can turn around to be a reminder of His faithfulness in all the areas that matter so much more.

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you.  Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about what happens to you.
1 Peter 5:6-7

A Good Case of the Mondays

This weekend, i re-homed my beloved rooster, Rocky;  i brought home my new beloved kitten, Columbo; and i started a new batch of chicks in the incubator.

I'm exhausted, and speed does not come easily, this early Monday morning.

But i find it so much easier to cope with the Monday morning exhaustion when my weekend was well-spent.

Happy Monday!  and Hallelujah!

Cuddly Addition

When i was a girl, i oft had a cat for a pet.

Cats and i get along pretty well.

During the beginning of my marriage, when sometimes it was rocky, i would go to the local pet store and pet kittens for therapy.

Lately, in the absence of a cat on the homestead, i've been wanting one.  It has been more than a year since our Stanley disappeared, and i have been wanting a kitty.  Just for having sweetness around.  So i started looking and found a potential kitten not too far from our house.

I brought him home yesterday afternoon and named him Columbo.  'Cause that's a good name for a cat.

Initially, Columbo was afraid of every movement and every noise and would hide from us and cry and be a very unsociable kitty.

But then, possibly by divine inspiration, we helped him associate canned herring with us, and he has become a much more cuddly kitty.  It's amazing what transformations can be made through the appetite.

Columbo has taken up residence in our bathtub.  Apparently, he lived in a bathroom previous to now.  And we go and get him for cuddling, and then he goes back and goes to sleep in our bathtub.

I'll have to be sure to remember Columbo before i turn on the shower in the morning.  

Inspirational Thoughts Very Early in the Morning

When i was a little girl, i remember seeing on tv - or having general knowledge - about little children in different areas of the world, where there was not enough food and/or there was little food coupled with communist rule.  Or whatever horrible plight.  

I understood that my spirit was not defined by my body, and i often wondered why my spirit got to be born into this body and in this time, a body that lives in the United States, that gets plenty to eat, that has kind loving parents, that doesn't get beaten or abused by Nazis or Communists or Fascists, or whathaveyou.  I remember often thanking God for allowing me to have such a horror-free life.  I probably didn't say it exactly that way when i was six, but nonetheless. . .

This morning, while i was preparing my breakfast and taking those first luxurious sips of my freshly brewed coffee, i thanked God and then wondered again.  Why me?  Why do i get to have it so good?  When so very many have it such a very difficult life.

Immediately, the scripture came to mind, "to whom much is given, much is required."  That scripture is Luke 12:48, and the parable that goes with it has always confused me a little.  Maybe because i don't entirely understand the customs it refers to - or because i don't fully understand God's ways.

But i think it applies to us somehow.

Today i will listen and try to discover how i can use the advantages i have been given, through no credit to myself, to benefit others.  It's easy to see our own struggles - or to make comparisons to others who have it even better than ourselves (or so we think), and to forget how very much we really have, and to discount what we do have to give.  If you are a resident of the United States, even if you're the poorest resident of the United States, you are richer (monetarily) than at least 80% of the world's population.  You have advantages and privileges and resources that most humans never imagine.  And so do i.

May we be mindful that every one person everywhere has something to give - and may we give it cheerfully.  And may we not waste our privileged position.

Eye Candy for Gardeners

This is me.  Bragging on my awesome husband, who has set out to grow tomatoes in Texas.  What's the big deal?  You've grown tomatoes in Texas?  Well, we haven't. And not too many have.  And we're pretty proud.  Isn't she beautiful??!!!!

Earlier in the year, my Hoe-slingin' super gardener, invested in multiple varieties of tomatoes that were bred and/or touted to grow well i our area, where the sun is hot, and the rain will either wash you away or not come at all.  We have lots of different tomato plants.  I'm sure you'll get to see them later in the summer, but this one is the most impressive - an early producer, and i thought i'd share.  

Incidentally, i have no idea what kind of tomato it is, but if you're interested, i'll try to find out.

We already have one beautiful red tomato on our counter, waiting to be devoured, and it smells SO good.

O.k., enough bragging for now.

Over and out.

Adventures in Homemade Laundry Soap

When i was visiting my parents last month, i took home a whole lot o' loot.  So much loot, that i couldn't take it home, and my parents had to box it up and mail it to me.  It was great.  Among said loot, my mother sent me the ingredients to make 2 gallons of homemade laundry soap, a project i've been fantasizing over for months and possible year + months, but never got the ingredients and the plan together to make it happen.  My mom's awesome, so she measured out the ingredients for me, placed them in a plastic bag with the directions, and gave them to me.  Moms are awesome.

I've read where lots of people wrote about their triumphs in making laundry soap - but never so much about the parts that confused them.  That's where i come in.  This simple process confused me a bit and had some complications i've not heard about in the past.  So i'll share it with you, and maybe you'll decide to make your own laundry soap too.  Or not.  Whichever.

Here is the recipe and instructions i followed:

Ingredients:
3 pints water
1/3 bar Fels Naptha Soap, grated
1/2 cup washing soda (Arm and Hammer, NOT baking soda!)
1/2 cup 20 Mule Team Borax
2 Gallon bucket to mix it in
1 Quart hot water HOT WATER


Instructions:
Mix Fels Naptha soap in a sauce pan with 3 pints hot water and heat on low until dissolved.  Stir in washing soda and borax.  Stir until thickened, and remove from heat.  Add 1 quart hot water to 2 gallon bucket.  Add soap mixture and mix well.  Fill bucket completely with additional hot water, and mix well.  Set aside for 24 hours, or until mixture thickens.  You may add additional HOT water if the mixture becomes too thick.  Mix well before each use.  Use 1/2 cup of mixture per load.  Makes 64 loads.  Cost per load, 3 cents.


O.k. let's get started.

Step one:  grate a third of a bar of Fels Naptha Soap.  Fels Naptha Soap is . . . well, it's a bar of soap.  It's yellow, and it smells like the strongest bar of Dial you've ever sniffed.  Oh, and it does this to your cheese grater.

Thankfully, it IS soap after all.  So it's not too too hard to wash off.  Use plenty of hot water.  Oh, grating the soap.  It's not like grating cheese.  It takes a while.  And i only did 1/3 of a bar.  So if you're going for the big 5 gallon bucket, hopefully you have some eager children to enlist, so you don't wear yourself out.

Next step:  dissolving the grated soap in hot water.  I put the specified 3 pints of water in my stock pot and heated it on low while i was grating said soap, so when i was done, the water was near boiling.  Then i just poured in the grated soap, like you would.  I grated mine pretty fine, so it dissolved pretty quickly.

The next next step is to pour in all the powdered stuff your mama measured out for you.  And stir.

Until it thickens.

Problem is, it doesn't give you any hint how long it will take to thicken or how much it will thicken or how you will know when it has thickened enough, etc., etc.

I cooked it for a long time, and stirred and stirred and stirred, and it still looked pretty much like thin chicken broth.  But with a lot of foam on top.

I googled about it for a while and found someone else whose soap didn't thicken, who said that it didn't seem to matter.  So i went with that.

Does anyone have any insight on this thickening business???

Next, you need a container.  I have a hard time finding 5 gallon buckets with lids, but i did find this "utility bucket" at the Family Dollar.  It holds about six gallons, and it has a lid.

Then, i poured my soap soup into my utility bucket and added more hot water, until it was as much as they said.  Kind of looks like somebody peed in it, but they didn't.

I waited 24 hours, and i don't have a picture, but it kind of separated like grease and water.  And it looked like the "grease" part might have solidified.  Happily it did not solidify; it jellified more, and i was easily able to stir it up.

I'm still using up my inferior, store-bought laundry soap, so i haven't used this concoction yet.  But i'm using extra store-bought detergent on my clothes so as to get to the good stuff sooner.

Extra Info: 

* to an olfactorily impaired person, such as myself, boiling soap just smells clean.  To olfactorily-sensitive folks, they might want to leave the house for a long time until the attack of their senses is over.

*the reason this recipe says "HOT" water so many times is because if you put cold water on this stuff, it sort of solidifies.  Don't ask how i know.  Just use hot water.

*my mama included marbles in my soap-making kit to put in the bottom of the bottle (once my soap is in a bottle) to aid in shaking up the mixture before each use.  She's smart like that, so you should do it too.

A Case of the Mondays

(Dear Readers, i wrote this post yesterday evening, while blogger was doing a one hour update that ended up taking the entire night and threatened to steal away our most recent blog entries.  But it didn't, and everything is now back to normal - so far as the eye can see - and now you can read what i meant to write last night.  Weird, i know.)

This week.


Whew.


It has been Monday all week long.


And i am so glad that Friday is only a sleep away.


On Friday mornings, my hubby and i have this unplanned tradition that i am coming to cherish.  Every Friday morning, one of us gets paid, and every Friday morning, both of us need gas in our vehicles.  So every Friday morning, we get up extra early and go to the gas station together, fill up two vehicles, and buy a gas station breakfast and coffee.  And then we drive away to our separate work places.


I don’t know why i like that so much.


Maybe it’s the gassing up.


Maybe it’s the good coffee they sell at this particular gas station.


Maybe it’s probably enjoying a few moments of togetherness with my cherished husband.  There are too few of those these days.  It’s a break from the busy-ness.


And a saran-wrapped bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit.


It’s a break from the Mondays.

Depression Relief

This morning on the radio, the d.j.'s on the local-ish Christian radio station, KSBJ, were discussing a newly dubbed condition (dubbed by whom, i don't know), called "Facebook Depression."  Reportedly, Facebook Depression is a result of person reading about other people's lives on Facebook (or, i assume, blogs and other places) and getting the impression that everyone's lives are beautiful and perfect except their own.  This is reportedly because too many people hide the ugly truth of their normal lives by posting status updates, etc., about only the good and wonderful.

This discussion made me think about you, the wonderful humans who check in at this address day by day and week by week to read the blathering business i write.  So i said to myself, "self, what if you're just too positive?" And then i decided i better provide some depression relief for you right away.

Here goes . . .

The dirty truth . . .

1.  I did laundry on Sunday night, but i didn't fold it.  I just crammed it all in a laundry bag and left it there until yesterday evening.  Then, i just crammed all the laundry items in their appropriate places, still without folding.  I was just way too tired.

2.  Sometimes, especially this past weekend, my husband and i argue about the absolutely stupidest things, and then we're mad, and then we don't talk to each other, and then we forget what we were mad about and we get over it.

3.  At the end of the day, my gorgeous hair cut doesn't necessarily look that great.  I think it's because i don't use as much hairspray as my hairdresser did.

4.  My kitchen got so dirty over the weekend that the flies in this house were reminiscent of the plague.  You know the one with Moses and Pharoah and whatnot?

4 1/2.  Even after cleaning the kitchen, there remains about 2 cups of last week's coffee in my coffee pot, slowly turning white.

5.  This morning, after i finally got my computer into some level of cooperative order, i woke up my husband from a dead sleep to get him to take a picture of my hair, you know, right after i fixed it, and he was nice enough to get up and try, but the camera malfunctioned and then died.  So here's all i can offer you at this time:

Got a little lazy eye goin' on there or somethin'.

Hope i relieved your depression a little.

Just remember, nobody's perfect 'cept Jesus, and He thought all us imperfect folks were important and valuable and beautiful enough that He died for us.  That should cheer you up the most!

=)

A Poem For You

There was a young woman from Texas

Who got a haircut in the city

Her friends wanted pictures

And left her lots of messages

But her computer became sick, reportedly.



This poem doesn't rhyme a little

But i hope you get the message completely

I love you a lot

But my computer is shot

It is getting first aid sort of immediately.



When it is better,

We'll talk, and we'll chatter,

And i'll tell you how i made soap with lots of lather.

My time is now gone.

I must travel on

And do my work so that they will pay me

But hopefully not with bon bons.

(See what i did there?)


This poem is getting worse by the stanza

So i'll go now, understandya?

I like Edna.

Warning, this is a frufru post about non-farming topics.

"I've been studyin' on this for a long time." is what i told the hair dresser on Saturday.  And it's true.

While i was not working away from the home, but instead only with the chickens and the rabbits and the dying fruit trees, i just let my hair grow and grow and grow.  And by the time i returned to work, it was that length just past regular long hair that makes people say, "Wow.  Your hair is really getting LONG."

I learned a long time ago that God made my hair for the messy look.  There simply isn't any way around it.  But when my hair got long and heavy, i thought . . . i dreamed for a moment that i could  mousse it or serum (read, oil) it down and have lovely long smooth non-messy hair.

But it simply isn't to be.

And i've been studying.  Really.

I made note cards.

Well, i made note card.

I read about what kind of haircut looks good on a . . .

. . . round face
. . . giant forehead
. . . double chin
. . . gargantuan head
. . . .messy wavy hair
. . . .fat people

I evaluated, i considered, i dreamed, and i wrote it all down.

But then there was the finding a hair dresser.

My friend, who cut my hair last and whose work i loved quit the business shortly after she cut my hair.  And she SAID that i could come to her house, and she's so sweet, but i just don't plan ahead well enough for all that, and i don't want to impose on her weekend in her house, and blah blah blah . . .
So, this weekend, i finally kind of had it with my hair.  I was finally ready to give up those long crazy locks, and my hubby was ready to help find someplace, so we did what anyone would do in our situation.  We had lunch at Taco Bell and asked the ladies there to recommend a hair salon nearby.

Because everyone knows that if you want to find women with really nicely cut and styled hair, you'll find them Taco Bell.

Thankfully, even though what i just said is completely false, one lady mentioned a place very close by called, "Edna's."  And based on that information alone, i said to my husband, "i like Edna."  And we went.  (Like i said, sometimes i'm not so good with the planning.)

Have you seen the movie, Steel Magnolias?

Well, it wasn't quite Dolly Parton's salon there, but it had that air.  I was more relaxed than i think i have ever been while getting a hair cut, and it was a delightful experience.  And my hair, if i say so myself, looks pretty cute.  And all the studying paid off.  And my hair stylist lady, whose name is not Edna, listened to me and did what i said, and gave me helpful professional input, and was delightful and wonderful.

And while this post wasn't meant to be a plug for Edna's, it's in Livingston, next to the Sonic.  Wash and cut is $18.

And now i have to take my gorgeous new hair to work.

Mother's Love

Recently, at Easter weekend, 21 little chicks hatched at my house.  The person we were hatching them for had asked for 20 chicks.  And chick #21 was looking pretty pathetic.  I didn't want to deliver a happy holiday chick that would quickly die, so i kept the chick at home and delivered what first aid i could.  I hoped for the best, but was prepared to find an expired chick when i returned home.  To my delight, when we returned home, after a very long Easter Sunday, celebrating with family, this little chick was wide awake, well-rested, and ready to hit the road, with a serious pair of lungs, by the way.

So, i gave this lonely little chick to my recently bereaved broody hen, and she welcomed this chick with open wings.  I have very much enjoyed watching the two of them over the past couple of weeks.  Mother hen protects this single chick like it was the greatest treasure on earth, and she spends every waking moment teaching it to find food and be a chicken.

I took some pictures for your enjoyment.  I've been saving them for Mother's Day because they remind me of me and my mom . . . since i'm an only child too.  And i have a really good mom too.  And i love her a lot.

I think the last picture is my favorite.  Do you see that little indention in the mother's feathers, right in the middle of her breast?  That's where the tiny chick just snuggled in for some warmth and rest and comfort.  The most beautiful picture of them all.

You probably don't have to think too hard to stretch this hen-chick/mother-daughter imagery to a picture of the love of God.  So i'll add this scripture to go with the pictures above.

He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. ~Psalms 91:1

Happy Mother's Day to all of you - 

and especially to mine.  <3