Move the Milk

Our small group has been discussing the miraculous accounts of Jesus feeding the 5,000 and then the 4,000. Only two gospel writers, Matthew and Mark include the latter story. The question was posed, "Why did these two choose to chronicle the additional event?" I must admit, my first inclination was, "I don't care." I figure if scripture is God-breathed, then you write down what he tells you to write down.

We got back from our holiday trip to Indiana late Saturday, only stopping to pick up milk, bread and stuff for dessert I was scheduled to make for small group the next day. There had been no true grocery shopping done by the time the little birds began opening their mouths, squawking and demanding food upon rising late Sunday. I got a stay of execution from Taco Bell at lunch and then eating with small group for dinner.

I was most happy to be back in my own bed so when Monday morning rolled around I wasn't particularly motivated to get out of my pajamas, much less go shopping. "But there is nothing in this house to eat," I thought. A cup of coffee bought me a couple of hours of procrastination before I began to forage. Upon opening the fridge and moving the milk, I discovered I had about two and a half dozen eggs. And as fortune would have it, some mayonnaise, mustard and sweet pickles. Voila, egg salad sandwiches. It seemed Paul and I would weather the harsh lunch hour.

This piqued my curiosity. I wonder if there is anything else here. I turned to the pantry. Tomato products of every consistency - paste, crushed, diced, rotel, sauce, chili-seasoned, pureed. "Remember when you were a new and good wife and made homemade pasta sauce?" said the mocking voice in my head. No spaghetti, but there was elbow macaroni and lots of it. Back to the fridge. Fresh garlic, onion, and what tub shineth  in yonder back right corner? Why, it is the fair, shaved parmesan from the land of Frigo!

Now I was just getting arrogant as I headed for the freezer. Two half bags of meatballs. In the crisper, spinach, baby carrots, cherry tomatoes. That's like a whole dinner. This is genius, right up there with String Theory. At this point, I am feeling an unspoken mandate to try out for the next season of Survivor.

This new scavenger hunt was intoxicating. The culinary, quadratic equations flooded my mind. Bread + eggs + milk = French Toast. Syrup, check. Oh, look. One and a half boxes of pancake mix. Sliced cheese + bread = Grilled Cheese. Or for style points, tortillas + shredded cheese + half bag of frozen fajita vegetables = Quesadillas.

And when Lucy walked further into the wardrobe, there were four half-filled cereal boxes, four cans of tuna, countless cans of beans, two boxes of cornbread, three packages of frozen vegetables, two boxes of rice, multiple bags of chips, two tv dinners, unopened bags of frozen strawberries, mangoes, and pineapple, two bags of frozen peaches, stuffing mix, two jars of peanut butter, two boxes of ritz crackers, six packages of jello, five packages of pudding mix, two 10/pack boxes of popcorn, a box of grits, a jar of peanuts, one and a half bottles of oil, two packages of flour, three packages of sugar, two packages of croutons, two canisters of oats, two and a half containers of sour cream, multiple packages of shredded cheese, and to soothe the stress of having so little food, a frozen mango daiquiri.

We had a friend over for dinner last night. I made soup and a bundt cake from a pumpkin bread mix. As it would turn out, our guest brought a lovely, lemon icebox pie. And so, the pumpkin bundt cake made a yummy coffee cake for breakfast. There was plenty of soup left over, but our family will be eating at youth group tonight so that will have to wait to be eaten until tomorrow.

So ask me now, why did Matthew and Mark include the feeding of the 4,000, an almost identical and slightly less numerically impressive story than the old five loaves and two fish standard? Because its just so darn fun to see how God provides if we just move the milk and look around a little. And sometimes, there's a mango daiquiri waiting in the corner of your freezer.

The Truth About Hurricanes

“Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
And if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know.”
- The Clash

There are many a teacher that can attest to the truth that I’m no mathematical genius.  This lyrical equation however, always seemed fairly straightforward to me.  If I go (T) < If I stay (2T).  So unless your last name happens to be Artest, Sheen, or Lohan, you should probably commence with packing.

I recently moved to the Gulf Coast and last week marked my initiation into the Hurricane Club.  As Isaac continued his tour of the Caribbean and schlepped into the Gulf, many were faced with the decision to bunker down or hightail it out of there.

My initial inclination as a newbie was to bolt.  However, as the storm zigzagged and wavered in intensity, so did my resolve.  I started watching the veterans around me.  Sure, they picked up an extra flat of water, some perishables in case of a power outage, but panic was nowhere to be seen.  Was this bravado?  I had no interest in sparing my ego, just saving my hide.  Were they watching the same news I was?  Everyone from Al Roker to Nostradamus had us in the crosshairs.  What did they know that I didn’t?

The kids were out of school Monday but Isaac had been a complete no show.  By Tuesday morning’s first ominous rain, I wondered if I had just missed the last raft leaving the Titanic.  We had already been laying around like slugs for a day so when the gusting began to pick up Tuesday afternoon, we did the only reasonable thing two stir crazy yankees could think to do.  We went outside and attempted to play tennis.

It may surprise you to learn this, but these are not optimum conditions for a nice volley.  As I stood there, wind whipping the hair in my face, I thought, “Well, blow me down Olive! So this is what a gale force wind feels like.”  You have to wonder just how many neighbors were provided with unexpected entertainment, peeking through their blinds.  

In the end, the storm all but missed us.  If we were boy scouts, we would not be worthy of the hurricane merit badge.  As it turns out, we made the right decision in staying.  Moreover, we had some great family time.  Who knew I would be so dominant at Hangman?  Well, of course, I did but I couldn’t very well pass up this opportunity to publicly acknowledge it.

We rediscovered Nutella.  Sean honed it to a fine art creating the Mona Lisa of afternoon snacks -- flour tortilla (go with me here), peanut butter and one side, nutella on the other, covered in banana slices, and folded in Elvis-like fashion into a sandwich.

There was lots of tickling/wrestling and we slept, read, talked, fought, laughed, watch movies, ate with and actually looked at one another.  And listened to each other.

What did the veterans know that I didn’t?  I think they knew that they really didn’t know what would happen.  They knew that storms have a mind of their own.  They knew that preparation and calm were key.  And I’m pretty sure they had already figured out just how fun some hurricanes can be.

Ramblings from a Woman in Pain

In my defense, I have an ocular migraine, its 3:20 am and I have a huge Dosage Calculations test in the morning (5 hours). If you are familiar with my relationship with math, then you get the picture: a king-sized bed in your first apartment. No room for the treadmill. So I have to relieve some intracranial pressure and dump.

Maybe I'm awake because I feel like I'm waking up. You know that feeling when you read a scripture for the first time with your heart instead of your ears? You say, "Geez, why didn't you just say so?" I can almost see God biting his lip from saying, "I've been in syndication for well over 2000 years. Check your local listings."

So my new kick is the health of our food. I saw that documentary, "Food, Inc." and its got me up nights (ba dump bump). I feel overwhelmed about where to start. At the same time, I am back to tracking my calories, only this time the program I am using also tracks my sugar, cholesterol, protein, etc. I am staying in bounds in terms of calories but its unbelievable how out of whack my diet is. Sometimes I get over 200% of the sugar or protein I need in a day. Hmmm....
He did create plants on the third day and animals on the sixth.... no wait, that's not going to work, sugar cane is a plant.

Anyway, the idea is balance. What if I didn't try to see so far down the road? Eat a few more plants, a few less animals. Maybe the parts do make up the whole. Geez, this math thing might catch on. I think I might try this. I will let you know. Speaking of balance, I think there's enough room for me to climb back into my king-size bed now. Good morning.

All God's Children

All God's Children are on a 2 hour delay. It really said that at the bottom of the screen this morning. Of course they were referring to a preschool in the area due to inclement weather. But man, what if?

What if God saw how strung out, stressed out, and strapped we were for money, time, energy or sleep and just called a 2 hour timeout? We're going to take this one slow today. Have that extra cup of coffee and a laugh with your spouse, cuddle with your kid. We keep waiting for that intervention. The calvary to come in and rescue us from ourselves.

"Come unto me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me for I am meek and lowly in heart and you will find rest unto your soul."

I guess our misstep happens at the beginning. Coming unto him. Laying it at his feet. He is God and I sometimes assume its not necessary to tell him everything. He is watching over me after all right?

I noticed baby B wearing pretty much the same 3 shirts over and over again recently. One night he came and said, " I need to do laundry, I don't have anything to wear." I said, "You have an entire closet full of clothes, what are you talking about?" Long story made less long, he finally fessed up that skateboard clothes were no longer cool, which constitutes 80% of his wardrobe. Somebody was making fun of him. I mentioned this little tidbit to my mother, the consummate grandmother and presto, baby B got a shopping trip. (Yes I know, spoiled but just go with me here.)

I think I do a pretty good job of connecting with my kids, but it wasn't until he came to us and told us his problem until something changed.

I didn't actually HAVE a 2 hour delay this morning, but I took one. I needed to laugh with my husband, cuddle with my kid and talk to my Father.

Offer My Blog

Caving to public demand, I hereby offer my blog. Okay so public might be a bit of a stretch - my husband and a scant number of friends, but they're a persistent and vocal group.

Okay here are the basics just so we're all on the same page. As mentioned before, there's a husband. Baby A and baby B are 12 year old twins. Baby C is 7. There's a schnauzer named Lincoln. There's a house on a cul-de-sac (More on this later) in a Midwestern city and a minivan. I am 40 and in nursing school. Finally. (More on that later.)

Personal life philosophies: "Its gonna come back around" and "You can never have too many pajamas."

I pretty much stick to the four basic food groups: Cream cheese, pasta, chocolate and cream cheese.

Dislikes - marzipan, the words "thick", "moist", and "bladder" ( together, a true abomination to my ears), people cutting anything except butter with a butter knife, kissing noises in the movies, whining, the tree pose in yoga, Carter Hoffmeister's nostrils, Caillou, the New England Patriots, and hypocrisy.

Likes? Now that's harder. I don't want anyone or anything to feel left out. Reading, writing, watching football, making people laugh, rescuing people.

I think that's all I have for now. Geez, this is a lot of pressure.