Eye-popping

Just to play I'm putting up pictures by twos in similar colors. I don't go crazy collecting pics on the Internet but what I love I save, and by now I have a few. Color grabs me fast . . .  not only that but texture and light and shadow. Eye-popping color's one of the main reasons I dvr HGTV - I love to uh-huh over room remodels for their wow finishes. Designers have an eye for their job or they wouldn't be hosting tv shows; I crazily imagine being one of them sometimes! I piece quilt tops for the same reason they decorate. This post was fun to put together . . . nature's the best designer, don't you think?

Wordplay

Janus parallelism: I heard Paul Hoskisson on the BYU Channel say this and looked it up. It's when a word in literature can have two different meanings, one of which is parallel with what precedes it and the other with what follows.

Here's what Wikipedia says about Janus, a god in Roman mythology: Janus is the god of beginnings and endings. His most prominent remnant in modern culture is his namesake, the month of January, which begins the new year.The reason for this is that one is looking back at the previous year and the other is looking forward to the new year ahead. He is most often depicted as having two faces or heads facing in opposite directions. These heads were believed to look into both the future and the past.

Why Brother Hoskisson even brought this literary device up is because he saw it in Isaiah 52:14 where it says, speaking of the Messiah, "... his visage was marred more than any man... " He said that with the word "marred" Janus parallelism was utilized brilliantly by Isaiah.

I write in my scripture margins as he goes to continue (pause - thank you DVR.):

"Following beautiful language in verse 13, 'marred' here seems negative. The Dead Sea Scrolls version translates to 'annointed,' wow; that parallels verse 13's positive aspects of the Messiah: prudent, exalted, extolled, very high. Translated 'marred' from Hebrew as it is in the KJV, it parallels the negativity in verses 1-5 of Chapter 53: who hath believed our report? no form nor comeliness, no beauty that we should desire him, despised, rejected of men, man of sorrows, acquainted with grief, hid our faces from him, we esteemed him not, carried our sorrows, stricken, smitten, afflicted, wounded, bruised, stripes."

I like this; more to see when reading scriptures.

Wines on the lees and a feast of fat things

Kent saw bunches of red grapes I bought this morning in a big bowl on the counter. I ate some already and they're sparkly good. The ones he ate were, eh, so so. He said that. He looked at me, pulling grapes off the stem and putting them in his mouth and announced, "I'm ready for the Millennium." He grinned 'cause he knows I know exactly what he's saying. There'll be no so so grapes then.

Why I blog

I blog



*because it's in me to write. eyes blue. hair curly. i write - like that.

*because it's energizing - i get happy inside with the possibility of a new post. it could go anywhere and does, getting silly and sappy often and then sometimes, not.

*to share me - dan said one day he was thinking after a post I wrote, "does this woman stop and think how much information she's giving up here" (or something like that and he was probably cringing), and I did a small double take; still . . .

*to emote, help me not take myself too seriously. do i need a disclaimer, d'ya think?

*to journal - it's a unique way of chronicling the months and years

*to remember incidental things i would be forgetting. recipes i like and how a morning teaching seminary could go. cute things my grand kids say and how the weather's behaving. my favorite things and what feels hard or sad right now.

*to pay forward things i'm learning which are good, sacred, spiritual and positive; to be thankful

*to celebrate my wonderful husband, kids and grand kids and show pictures

*to stay connected with far away family and friends

*because i think it matters and will last
---
Amy and Joseph, 2009

Pleasurable

Could there be a better pleasure in the whole world than satisfying a longing for something? When I would otherwise say about myself that I'm drained or grumpy or shiftless probably, I'm actually longing. It's kind of what's'a matter or . . . hey, I'm depressed. Well so I am around 11:30 any morning when I'm hungry. Lunch is a pleasure every day. To put it off is to be drained. Yeah, and grumpy and then pretty much shiftless. That makes leftovers from dinner

last night a thing to be looked forward to and better still if it's lunch out with Kent.

You get it. The crazy thing is to figure out what you're hungry for. Sometimes I'm not that, I'm THIRSTY! It's no good gratifying thirst with food...  you know the feeling - love that drink of water! Or not that, I'm BORED. When you get to move on to what's exciting around you, you're giddy. Or, I'M... and you can't name it, the thing you're longing for. And a conversation with a sib or friend; a walk around the lake; a trip to Target or the library; a bath; a good movie; a nap; a kiss; or quiet time is ALL YOU WANTED. A moment of sheer pleasure.

Happy today because

I am happy today because

...i listened to Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

...it's officially fall

...i went out with the sister Missionaries yesterday

...kent totally fixed my broken curling iron

...my eye isn't foggy

...jenny's birthday is monday, yay!

...i saw the full moon this morning

Interruptions

I went out with the sister Missionaries today. They always invite us ladies when there is a bona fide teaching appointment. The lady they had the appointment with made a firm commitment with the sisters yesterday for today at 12:30.

We go and are let into the house by a woman I don't know; clearly Sister L does so she's in with Sister A right behind and me trailing. In and conversing before you know it - ah, but it is NOT the lady we were to see. It is her sister. Leeetle mix up. But our sisters ever courageous and in the line of duty extend the message to her as they would have her sister and now, though there has been a little interruption of service so to speak, two may well come to have the gospel instead of just the one.

If God knows the fall of a very sparrow and the number of hairs on my head then He surely is aware of every little thing that (hm, having gone slightly askew) makes me go hmph under my breath and may turn it for good. I believe.

Red Lentils

Dear Kent, I'm cooking Indian tonight - hope you're not hoping for roast and veggies. You've eaten green pilau with cashews I know, I know, and brown rice and cashew patties with coconut sambal, strange for us. It's good you'll try anything once. I sure don't blame you for not making it through the mushroom nut roast. I'll be eating it this week for lunch 'cause I like it - you can't help it you don't love fake meat. Bombay Sloppy Joes turned out great, huh, with the pistachios and raisins and . . . well, here goes Aarti's mum's Everyday Red Lentils. Love, me . . . yeah, this is how the letter to my husband goes in my head while I'm putting together Aarti's latest recipe yesterday. We both like the warm lentil soup, almost a risotto. Whew. Not to bore you totally, but do you KNOW how good cumin, mustard seed, paprika and turmeric taste in this dish? C'mon. Lentils, yum, already combined with onion, garlic, ginger, salt and pepper - so good for you. Kent doesn't know about all that. He just wants it to taste good and BE good. It is.



----
Macon, Georgia, on a neighborhood walk

September Birthdays

Don't you just love curly ribbon on a birthday present?



Especially a September birthday present . . .

I love making the twirls with the scissors. Anyway, since Sep. 1 I've had a handful of birthday cards stacked on the kitchen table with posty notes on them reminding me who they're for; and a mental list (too dangerous on real paper) of gifts to buy for certain ones in the family. Thank you all you September birthdays for ganging up on me - lots to celebrate!

Dana just had her 31st this past week and Brad took her for a long weekend to Nauvoo, Ill. I'm dying to see what they think of their trip. A little sump'n-sump'n came in the mail for Dana before they left. (One card down, a few to go.) Love you Dana, happy birthday! Tomorrow is Landon's big day and a package came to him already. I know because a couple of days ago Erin called asking if it's okay for Landon to open a box that arrived in their mail. Sure - Happy Birthday, buddy ! You'll be 5 tomorrow. Also this month is Jen's birthday. Typical of other years, she got her present this July when we were together in Utah. It's not so often that we're together right before her birthday, but when we are she works it. (So does Erin - they're both scalawags.) Jen's present has come as early as April some years! I just signed your card sweetheart, with a smiley face and a heart, and put the stamp on the envelope. It's pink; you'll like it. In a few days you'll actually be the whole 34 years-old I've been calling you all summer. Hooray! (p.s. One of the ladies in our ward was due with her son on your birthday, but boo she had him three weeks ago. I was hoping for it, but they're much happier this way.)

Two of the ladies I visit teach have birthdays in a couple of days - the same day, yeah. Two cards in two envelopes with messages and doodles and signed love, your visiting teachers. We'll see them tomorrow. And my neighbor across the street's birthday is Sunday; many years young she is - mother, grandmother (Grannie) and great-grandmother. Whew! She can run circles around me. I often see her in her yard working - I say working on her tan. I like to visit with her though we've not done as much lately. It'll be a good day on Sunday. Love you, J! Finally there's a birthday Sunday for my good friend, Sherri. One fantastic lady always in the middle of good works: children and grandchildren around her, a son on a mission and daughter getting married in December. She works half day, leads the music in Primary at church after two years serving in the Nursery, did two years as Seminary teacher and at least a couple was Stake Camp Director. And that's just since I've known her. She's been a friend for several years and I way love her! When I grow up I want to be just like her. Happy, happy birthday, Sherri!

Kent's brother's birthday was yesterday and I know Em's is Wednesday, and one more of the cousins . . .hm, David, I think, on his mission in Japan. On the 26th? Right? Janet's daughter's birthday is a week from today, the 27th; I always remember. Janet and I used to visit teach together and she has since moved out of the ward. Miss you, Janet! My good friend Annette's is the 25th - long time friend. And . . . I may be forgetting somebody . . .

Oh - Kent! His birthday is the 30th, the very end of the month, and he doesn't know it but his present is already . . . well, I won't tell. He'll like it. I won't put pretty curly ribbon on it.

All washed up

It's like I'm spring cleaning around here lately. You get one thing looking shiny bright around the house, say, dust the plantation shutters or shampoo the carpets and, wow, you're on a roll and then the shower doors in the master bathroom look dour and dull and you tow them off their sliding track and out to the back yard for a hosing down. It looks that way, the foggy things; they're frosted plexiglass, the surface on each side faceted and dimpled - similar to an area of the human body in fact to which cellulite cream is very purposely applied - and require something now in the way of, well, a little TLC...

... and much elbow grease.

Or maybe they're not dimpled you know, hey . . . there's so much scum and hard water spots here (now coming off under Whink Professional Strength Limebuster and my tuffie) I'd forgotten how slick these doors are really. Still frosty, eh, kind of not my thing, they came with the house, but with potential now to live in the current century. I'm kneeling in a pud muddle I've made in the grass with the spray bottle of chemical, rags and a few brushes including toothbrushes, and power nozzle attached to the hose. One pull on the trigger turns the thing on full gale and a click stops it, and sometimes I've gotten the two confused. Not much but, still, yeah, we're soaked. The paper towels I thought better of than to bring out with me - they're resting on the barbecue grill.

So now, not just wet in my knees in my capris but my fanny and thighs (I allude to these in the first paragraph, see above) and shins and ankles and feet down in my rubber Crocs, and from there to my bangs, which are dripping. All of me is dripping. I notice as I take my thinnest plastic cake spatula to the soap scum, scraping and raking that across the glass as though it were in fact the razor blade the Internet suggested I use as needed. I'm amazed at how much seven years of soap scum and hard water adds up to. I'm dripping sweat now and huffing at my bangs and thinking I probably should be wearing rubber gloves as I reach up to swat at my hair with a gooey hand. What's the precaution on the label about getting this in my eye? There might be a buzzing in my ears.

I stand one door up against a pecan tree and power spray it. The fun part! See it dry in the time it takes me to go for the paper towel; sheesh. The sun sparkles in the water drops as I see them shrink and, pff!  Gone.

The door should be spotless.

You know how this goes. It isn't. The dimples I thought were always there are not and, fine, the door is smooth to the touch but, ick, these pesky hard water spots... what do you do? I traipse into the house squishing in my Crocs to the computer and Google hard water spots. Vinegar! It's the only way, says answers on a few forums on a few websites about such. You KNOW how this goes... I put some distilled into a spray bottle, a small to-do in itself I'm so slippery-slidy, and start all over minus the Whink and cake spatula. I spray and let it sit. I scrub. I rinse. No good. At the tree the water dries off the door before my eyes and it's cloudy in spots.

I lug this door to the ground near its twin (which hasn't been touched yet) and go inside and bake two cakes from box mixes. To clear my thinking. While they bake I look online for help again and think and think and think it's all good enough. I spray the last of the chemical on door number two and almost have the tuffie into it when I remember my cakes and squishing fast into the kitchen, rescue them. The dinger had to have been going a few minutes already; it's noisy, but they're perfect. They rest and cool and I work another hour outside.

Kent gets home from the Daddy Daughter thing he went to on a horse ranch a half hour away for four hours - where he started out parking cars and ended up eating hot dogs and Cheetos - you know it, hot and sweaty, and looks at the doors and says we're done. They're dry and clear but blotchy a little with spots I can see four miles off, but I'm truly so all done. Kent goes to take them into the house and I say WAIT! (Woman's prerogative. NOT done.) There's the shower to wipe down. But it's in great shape, no soap scum here as I live and breathe, I'm good that way, just a few little swipes needed on the chrome door track and along the silicone grouting to forestall mildew... and then the doors are on and in the bathroom light... what water spots?

I kid you not it was 95 degrees outside Saturday and though I wasn't dumb enough to STAY in the sunny spot I started in at 9:30 a.m. (to get a tan) and was at 1:30 in the shadiest spot under a pecan tree and soaking, sopping wet, I was HOT. Cleanup was effort. You know all the stuff that gets pulled out when you're like washing a car, well this was that - you think you have to have every brush size and stiffness down to a toothbrush like I mentioned, and rags and tuffies. Stuff that's wet, including the big sheet you laid the doors on, itself in the pud muddle eventually, and all these accouterments that attend door-washing (including the spatula) have to lay out to dry or be wiped and brought in. They did and are. And the hose isn't just a hook up affair, no, it's wound on a reel on a pull-cart with wheels and is hooked to an extension hose that hooks to the house and you have to unhook and roll everything up just so - and don't forget the power nozzle - and pull it back into the storage shed that has a pull up door that locks when you pull it back down and you have to put the key away in the top drawer in the bedroom which calls for taking off your rubber shoes and then surveying the carpet for dirt on your way out anyway because you cleaned it the other day. It's how it is.

And you're bushed and just want to sit on the couch and watch college football and eat cake.

I washed up and did.
----

Nothin'

I look over this blog day by day and honestly can't think of anything to post. I have blog-block. More like, I write the same old-same old, so why bother? That's heartless I guess. If I were to just use a little imagination like Erin for example who writes letters or Jen who's posted lists, or others I can think of who use cool formats I'd feel read-worthy.

Pah. Today, just pah.

Wonderful Words

Friday night Kent and I went to a stake fireside where the temple president and his wife had come from Atlanta to speak on gaining peace. President Black first reported on the progress of the Atlanta temple remodel and got us all excited. He implored us to be ready to attend the public Open House perhaps soon after the first of the year and bring our families - all of them - and our friends. He of course preached a little and bore personal testimony about temple service and it's effect on individual lives and communities.

Which brought him to his topic . . . he first had any of us who wanted to say what can often trouble us - families came up first. He wrote that on the chalkboard. Soon a string of things were on the board, concerns individuals or the church itself face. Effective missionary work, finances, employment, split or blended families. Marriage, being single, feeling overwhelmed, education - you can tell where it all headed.

He gave specific pointers in his talk which I wrote, the first a quote by President Ezra Taft Benson.

“When obedience ceases to be an irritant and becomes our quest, in that moment God will endow us with power.”

His next theme was read the words of the Apostles and the Prophet, particularly from General Conferences, which can be found in the Ensign. He quoted from Elder Bednar's talk as an example, on how parents effectively help their young children by (and I can't remember every exact word, but here goes . . .) exposing them to the Book of Mormon and bearing testimony in their homes. (Elder Bednar's talk is pertinent for families who, like ours, have grown children.)

President Black stressed sitting down as families at the table for meals. Being together at mealtimes he says keeps family members connected in the chaos and provides a place and time for discussion not only about lightweight daily stuff but difficult things or sacred things. And a place and time to pray, feel each other's hearts and spirits and attitudes even just in the blessing on the food. Fathers, be at home with your children for meals. He couldn't overstate it. You could just see it in his presentation - President Black is in his middle or upper 60s probably, and shook his head as he considered how he had had to come to this himself as a young father, and what it cost him to change his ways then. And how it has benefited them - as he spoke he mentioned he and his wife have a tricky situation right now with a family member . . . (which teaches me that these "tricky situations" never end for parents) . . . I watched his expression and body while he taught and see he's begging us to come together.

He told how important one on one time with each other is.

He said how as the disintegration of the family is a cancer in our society the Lord through the prophet Joseph Smith has revealed that the healing and rescue for this exact trouble would be (and so now is) the coming of Elijah to turn, or bind, the hearts of the fathers to the children and the children to the fathers. Joseph Smith declared the word "weld." This of course led President Black to the important last counsel, as at first: Come to the temple! The best way to shake off earthly priorities is to be in the temple being tutored of the Lord.

"If you're going to be successful, turn your life over to Christ," he says. Regardless of what's served up to you, you will be happy.

Happy today because

I am happy today because

...it's Sunday

...i'm breathing without a rattle

...i labeled all the Tupperware in my food pantry yesterday

...dad e-mailed his History of Assignments as a Seventy 
from Oct. 1975 to now - wow

...i talked to Laura this week

...it rained last night

...i get to teach Relief Society today
----
 Sarah and Laura

Shortbread

Okay, so I won't even go into how much I really don't like our peach on a pole towering 175 feet above the highway near our city. It's ugly. *(If you live around here, it is isn't it!)  Couldn't we hail our visitors with something like, I don't know, not vinyl?

Here's the thing, ooo, why I'm writing. Regina gave me five peaches several days ago and already they were just right to eat and I let them sit somewhat longer until I found the very thing I could make with them that would be dessert. I always check Smitten Kitchen first since Deb is insanely chatty talkative and her recipes are scrumptious. I found it: peach shortbread (love her pictures besides)...



... and here - too good to describe in words in a post on a blog but just let me say we love, love, love this - is mine, in the making and done and done.



And yes, I browned the butter. Presenting...

Peach Shortbread
Smitten Kitchen: I browned the butter when I made these bars and for once I felt I could actually taste it in the final cookie (when so often it gets buried under other ingredients). By that measurement, it is absolutely worth it. Still, you can make it with straight-up non-browned butter if you are pressed for time. Simply cut softened butter into the flour (instead of frozen brown butter) and increase the flour by two tablespoons, bringing it to three full cups of flour.

I cut mine into 24 2 x 2 1/2-ish squares. You can halve this and bake it in a 8 x 8 pan instead.

1 cup (7 ounces or 200 grams) white sugar
1 teaspoon (5 grams) baking powder
2 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons (12 5/8 ounces or 359 grams) cups all-purpose flour (or you can measure 3 cups and remove 2 tablespoons flour)
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon (2 grams) salt
1 cup (2 sticks or 8 ounces or 227 grams) cold unsalted butter
1 large egg
2 peaches, pitted and thinly sliced (between 1/8 and 1/4-inch thick)

Brown your butter: Melt butter in a small/medium saucepan over medium-low heat. It will melt, then foam, then turn clear golden and finally start to turn brown and smell nutty. Stir frequently, scraping up any bits from the bottom as you do. Keep your eyes on it; it burns very quickly after it browns and the very second that you turn around to do something else. Set it in the freezer until solid (about 30 minutes).

[Don't have time for all this brown butter madness? Check the head notes to use regular softened butter instead.]

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter a 9×13 inch pan, or spray it with a nonstick spray. In a medium bowl, stir together sugar, baking powder, flour, salt and spices with a whisk. Use a pastry blender, fork or your fingertips, blend the solidified brown butter and egg into the flour mixture. It will be crumbly. Pat 3/4 of the crumbs into the bottom of the prepared pan, pressing firmly. Tile peach slices over crumb base in a single layer. Scatter remaining crumbs evenly over peaches and bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes, until top is slightly brown and you can see a little color around the edges. Cool completely in pan before cutting into squares.

Keeping: I’ve kept mine in the fridge and they’ve held up great there since Monday. I imagine that these would freeze well, between layers of waxed paper, with the container sealed well in plastic wrap.

Labor Day

I labored today.

I cleaned out the guest room closet. Took three garbage bags - including clothes, three aprons, two handfuls of plastic hangers, six place mats and a half dozen drinking cups - to Goodwill.

Organized the sewing room.

Sorted and toted magazines to Regina's house where that and other scrapbooking stuff I gave her on Saturday lives for a few days till she gives it to the people who can use it. Sorted buttons. That's labor? you say. For sure. When you have as many replacement buttons, extras, from new clothing

purchases through the years as I do that I've not had to use... and have saved til they are overcoming in a little tin container... sure. I sorted them into my button box. Done.

Hauled Christmas tablecloths out of storage and boxed them to give to the ward Relief Society. Almost gave them to Goodwill, but no.

Sorted through several shelves of books and delivered a few to the Friends of the Library donation box. I'd eyeballed my collection of children's books for sorting too but, well, can't give any away. Love them all. I did give up three stuffed toys. (Add that to the Goodwill bags.)

Helped Kent with the faucet repair in the kitchen sink.  Also watched him, sitting on a small stool in the yard, wire his shed. Like, for electricity. Light. It's been hot the last few days but not too humid, so we both could stand being outside. He's efficient and talks about all what he's doing as he goes along, but mostly to himself I guess. And did spill a little container of electric twist caps and had to find them where they scattered, getting on his hands and knees and looking in corners and under the lawn mower and the wheelbarrow, and sort them all before he could get going again.

Gathered dead pecan limbs Kent sawed and chopped out of low-hanging branches. He climbed on a ladder and hacked them down and I gathered them. No room in the dumpster now, but I made room for little dead wood pieces and heaped the big limbs in a pile on the back porch. This was my bend-and-stretch exercise for the day, as certainly sorting buttons sitting cross-legged on the floor earlier was not.

Watched Kent attempt to restring a chime onto our outdoor wind chimes.  It fell off a month ago; just ker-plunk, it dropped onto the back porch. Mud daubers fill the tubes and have their families in there, and I think eat the string... but whatever. It frayed, the string, and the chime fell. I brought Kent the tiny crochet hook he finally thought to use to bring the new string through the minuscule, I mean itty-bitty, holes it had to go through. Nothing but the crochet hook worked and we were triumphant! He tied a knot and melted the ends of the nylon string and we're back in business. (I wouldn't have thought to melt the string ends to keep them from unraveling. Good call.)

Cooked mashed potatoes for the family of a woman Kent home teaches whose husband (they're both elderly) passed away Sunday morning. The whole meal came from five of us - I took not only my part to their home but food from two other sisters who couldn't do their own taking. Kent came with me and for the time we were there was a remarkable and wonderful consolation to this sister. It was an emotional visit and my heart aches for her.

Made lunch at noon but didn't have to cook dinner tonight - we ate out. How can sliced pork taste any better than with Sonny's Sweet barbecue sauce on it?

And I labored to beat Kent at Farkle tonight, but in vain.

Right Out Loud

This week has sort of drug, like last week. Though probably not for my Jenny who had her first real school this week, kids and everything. The whole month for her has been a busy-blur of getting ready for school to start. And probably not for Joseph and Abbie my two little grand kids themselves in school this week, Kinder and 2nd. High excitement at their house! I hope to hear more about that this weekend. Here, not so much. I worked at what I do and mine's a regular sort of life. So what's to write about? Not one thing.

Well, one thing.

I talked back to the self checkout today.



The SC all but bags your groceries for you and is pushy. It intones put your item on the scanner and I do, I do. Says put your item in the Bagging Area and mutely, I do. There's this one time though with one of the about five birthday cards and envelopes I've been scanning and then, thank you, putting in The Bagging Area where I don't think the machine gets it. So literally. I do my deal - drop the card into the plastic bag on the scale. Wait to scan. SC  says put . . .   It's in the Bag! It's in there, see . . .  your item in the Bagging Area. Ah, 2x even. Well it's not my fault.  It is in there.

The SC assistant [n]ever ready to assist when I need it and today standing around swinging her keys, bumps up next to me and leans in and says, "I hear you telling that machine!" She rolls her eyes up at me and laughs and then so do I 'cause I said all that ROL.