Miscellany Monday with Gratitude

Linking up at a blog called "lowercase letters" for Miscellany Monday. I am not only listing 8 randoms today, I am also grateful for all of them. (I'm having trouble getting the cute button to work. Sorry, Carissa.)


One. Going Green in a Smoothie Kind of Way.
I made this one today from things that had to be used up: Peach-Ginger Smoothie
1 cup canned peaches
1 fresh peach
1 tablespoon fresh grated ginger
1 handful of ice
2 handfuls of fresh spinach
1 slice of cucumber & 1 slice of nectarine for garnish, because I just love garnishes.
Two. New-to-Us Patio Furniture. Free.
My husband has a wonderful, kind, friendly, and generous friend named Curtis. When Curtis and his wife bought a new table and chairs for themselves, Curtis offered us the old set. Can I tell you it's an answer to prayer? Not only is it classy and in good shape, it has an umbrella and doubles the amount of seating on our deck. Now we can have a large group over without dragging camp chairs and kitchen chairs from hither and yon. THREE. Fresh herbs.
I simply marvel that God makes so many different gorgeous variations on the shape and shade of leaves. The beauty of basil.
FOUR. Having my whole family--everyone--finally, on board with better eating resolve. For health. For taste. For wedding. It's a joy to make things like this Caribbean Chicken Salad and have everyone appreciate it.

FIVE. Bright red petunias that ask for a little water and lots of sunshine and return the favor with daily cheer.

SIX. Almost 33 child-free hours, just my silver-haired sweetie and me.
From noon on Saturday when Sarah took Joel to camp, while Steve was in PA and Ben was in NJ,
we had a glorious, wonderfully quiet, relaxed nest. He cut the grass and called it a day. I washed about 347 dishes and utensils by hand because the dishwasher wasn't acting right and all the "clean" dishes came out with dried-on gunk, so I scrubbed them manually, and called it a day. We just chilled, and for dinner brought home a Maryland crab cake platter and a cheesesteak sub. (Okay, so the better-eating resolve is kind of evolving! Sometimes an indulgence is merited, as in the name of celebrating a no-kids-home weekend.)

SEVEN. Cake Balls. I'd never heard of them until Kelly at Through the Water, wrote a "controversial" post. So cute that her choice of a "controversial post" was about cake mixes vs. made-from-scratch cakes, and how some people get cranky at the mere mention of cake mixes!

I was going to make a 13x9 of Steve's favorite yellow cake with chocolate frosting so he could enjoy a mini-birthday party with friends at camp. But, since I had other things also baking (I was in a mood) the cake got a bit overdone. Not badly, but it turned out "not pretty." While it cooled, I read blogs. Lo and behold, the solution to my problem was literally at my fingertips! Cake Balls are simple, messy, and the perfect way to delishify a flop.

Cake Balls:
-Crumble up a baked boxed cake
-Add a can of frosting.
-Mash it all up together in your hands and form balls.
-Freeze the balls. I read you can freeze them for 15 minutes to six hours. I froze them for four while I did other things. They were perfect to work with--no crumbling.
-Melt 3 large Hershey bars in the microwave with a little bit of milk. The milk gives you a good sheen.
-Roll each ball in melted chocolate. (Work quickly. The chocolate hardens fast.)
-Refrigerate on a tray for 15 minutes. Serve or seal as you desire.
-Enjoy the taste and the compliments!


( Did I mention these are messy? At first I felt like quitting, but then I realized there was no turning back and just declared it an adventure. I can get through almost anything if it's called an adventure.) Besides, Joel was having a blast with the camera.

I didn't get a shot of the finished product. But I can say that they passed the test kitchen's approval! And they were a big hit with the counselors.

EIGHT. My son (the supposedly wise camp counselor) spent his time off Saturday jumping off a 30-foot cliff into water below! I found out from his Facebook status, and let me tell you, it made my palms sweat and my heart race. Had he told me ahead of time, I probably would've retched. I thank God He didn't let Steve die or be paralyzed for life.

Springtime Hodgepodge, Written Under a Blanket

Joining Joyce again, this time for springtime Hodgepodge. The only signs of spring today are daffodils and some greening of my weeping willow.













1. Sunday was the first day of spring. So they say. Ahem.

What is your favorite outdoor springtime activity?

Well, back to the first part . "They" say Sunday the 20th was the first day of spring, but I will always, always, always say it's March 21st. My firstborn's birth ushered in spring on that day in 1988, and forever his birthday is synonymous with the first day of spring.

My favorite springtime activity? Cutting daffodils for the first time and arranging them on the kitchen table in a white pitcher. I also-- (don't gag)-- enjoy washing windows and then changing my curtains.

2. Who would you want to come into your kitchen to cook dinner for you?

Hmmm. My first thought was Emeril Lagasse because he is so cute and personable and I love food that's been "kicked up a notch," as he says. BAM! He could also teach me a lot of things, I'm sure. I also think "pork fat rules" (gotta lummie sum bacon). But then I thought he would judge all my inferior cookware (inferior for him, good for me) or that I'd feel compelled to rush out and buy his brand before his arrival --you know, "suck up" to him?

So my new answer to the question would be "my cousin's husband, Rene." (Hard to take good pics in the limo, but you can see his incessant smile.) He absolutely shines in the kitchen, loves it, and is an extraordinary host. He fixed some superb tamales on New Year's Day this past year when I went to Texas-- for a mini-family reunion/NYE celebration-- and then hired a limo to take all of us (about 16 people) down to San Antonio's Riverwalk, where he had arranged (with my sister) a cruise on the river under Christmas lights, followed by service of hot cocoa on the top floor of a tower restaurant overlooking the entire city. That's what I'm talking about, baby. All the love and thoughtfulness and over-the-top memory making gift he has. The difference between having Emeril or having Rene in the kitchen would be love. I love Rene and would feel totally at ease with him in my kitchen. Emeril would impress me for sure, but Rene would bless me.

3. When did you last fly a kite?

Wow. I can't remember the last time I personally flew one. I remember when my husband and his brother Tony took the kids out to a big field and flew one. Or was that just a remote- controlled airplane? I don't remember if there was a kite or not!

4. What topic puts you to sleep faster than anything?
Almost anything dealing with electronic gaming or handheld devices. I am just not into video games, giga gadgets, "cool" apps and all that hoo-ha. As long as I have a computer and a working cell phone, I'm content with technology.

5. Which flowers do you associate with specific people, places, or events?

Daffodils--my oldest son's birth; daisies--my daughter's favorite; yellow roses--my husand's first gesture of "friendship" to me before he got up the nerve to actually use his words; poinsettias--our wedding; gladiolas--a former boss with a Spanish accent couldn't STAND them or the smell. Some were delivered at work one day and she went on and on, rolling those r's with disdain, about how "they jist remin't me uff my GRAN-mutherrr's fYOONerrhral in Pware-t'REEco. I think dey arhr ukly and dey STINK! Doan'jew agrhee?" One time, I shall never forget, I got flowers delivered to me at home from an anonymous sender. To this day I have no clue who sent them, but I was in a serious depression and they lifted me up and showed me God's love.

6. What significant historical events took place during your elementary school days?
I was unaware of world politics, for the most part, in those days. I do remember later that I was concerned about the hostages in Iran. My dad dug up a Christmas tree from our "back 40" in December, but the ground in January was too cold to replant it. Same with February. As we approached March, I was so embarrassed to be the only family with their Christmas tree still up. My mom (a poli-sci major and totally devoted to current events on the globe) said, "We'll leave it up till the hostages come home." She wasn't kidding. Replanting that five-foot pine was our celebration of the hostages' homecoming. I also remember (high school) the day Ronald Reagan was shot. He was my favorite President and I prayed and prayed for God to spare his life. I remember his humor: "I hoped that all my doctors were Republican."

7. Do you swear?

Yes. When I'm super angry/out-of-control mad, my speech is not "seasoned with salt" but "peppered with other things," I'm afraid. I wasn't raised like that. It shouldn't be part of my vocabulary, and it isn't the norm, but when I'm truly heated up over a searing hurt, it's like the proverbial sailor takes over my mouth.

Do you pseudo-swear? (You know crap, shoot, friggin'?)

Heck, yeah .

8. Insert your own random thought here.

I didn't realize how much I already loved our new dog, Reilly, until this past week. Last Friday his face and throat swelled up huge as a St. Bernard's, he was itching from head to tail, and he was having trouble breathing. We rushed him to the vet. He'd been bitten by a spider, the vet surmised. But Reilly survived the allergic reaction with steroids, Benadryl, and a lot of prayer.

Then yesterday he gave me another scare. I was in the family room, decluttering the toys, minding my own business. I had been ignoring him while "in my zone," and he'd fallen asleep behind "his" chair. He was lying on his side, and his eyes were open, glossy. I called, "Reilly?" No response. Normally he lifts his head. "Reilly?" I called more loudly. Panic. He didn't even twitch a tail. I screamed, "Reilly!" thinking he was dead! I thought, How? Did you choke on a Lego creation and I didn't notice? Or a sock? Wake up! Those glossy eyes freaked me out! But yelling in his face woke him up. Man! Be still my heart! Guess he was in his zone!

Here is swollen Reilly. Freak-ay!

Purple in my Garden

As long as I live and have a garden,
there will be purple in it . -Me

Purple salvia in my mailbox garden. Guess I should've tidied it up a bit before taking pictures, but I decided it was either/or.

"Either" won.










My neighbor, Cindy, came over and offered
three of these hydrangea bushes to me last
summer. At the time, they had no blooms. She thought they bloomed purple,but wasn't sure. How delighted I was when they did!

They wouldn't bloom at all for her, but
I suspected it was that her garden is shadier,
and most perennials need full sun.

I adore the dianthus (Sweet Williams) around
the feet. Reminds me of a children's choir:
happy, wonderful to look at, but not exactly
orderly in their cluster.













Deep purple clematis. It is so heavy now, it's
hard to keep the trellis standing straight, legs buried.
But I love the bright star-shaped petals.
I really need to deal with the vines soon.
They need a good pruning. So do I.

My garden, as a matter of fact, is a fairly good
indicator of my emotional state at any given
time. 'Nuff said.












These pale purple pretties appeared
just after the crocuses. I'm not
sure their name. Can someone help?

Fankful Friday

Had Paul given me more than three days' notice that he'd be taking off work today, I would have done the same. It was absolutely gorgeous outside, warm and breezy. The kind of day that makes you want to skip school altogether. Joel did get to stay home, but it was because he woke up with a nasty cough and congestion that he got from Stephen.

Since I don't report till noon on Fridays, we used some of the morning to go to Lowe's for flowers and mulch. I should've gone flower hunting earlier this week; what I really wanted were coral colored flowers. They didn't have nearly enough to do the border in front of the house, and Paul hates geraniums--the only other sunloving flower in that color there, so I went to Plan B. (I have had to divert to Plan B so often I call myself Queen B.) I bought coral colored impatiens for the covered porch, since they must be shaded at all times, but I am not wild about them. I'm just wild about the color this year.

As long as I have a garden, it will have purple in it. So I went with sweet williams (dianthus) that have purple centers fringed with white. Hardy for my likes, cheap for Paul's. He just wanted to get on with it. I had to fight ingratitude and stubbornness; picking flowers is such a joy to me, I hate to be rushed and was feeling I have to just settle for something. But God quickly reminded me of last year when there was no extra money for flowers at all. Last year was a lesson in really making do, really waiting patiently during the seemingly colorless interlude between March's crocuses (croci?) and June's salvia. I had to wait for every single perennial to come back, which made me ever the more thankful that God doesn't make us plant everything new every year in order to be surrounded by beauty.

As I climbed into the Jeep after paying for our new petaled friends, I thanked God for giving me a husband who is willing to take the day off work to work hard at home. He does not enjoy yardwork at all, but likes a green lawn and tidy landscaping. Not that ours is ever completely green OR tidy, but we aspire. I thanked God for the money that we're appreciating this year, finally some extra because we are totally debt-free (sans home mortgage) and walking in financial freedom.

A quick weeding of the side garden, then a shower, and then I had to leave for school. I felt a headache coming on as I drove, maybe from the sun or the guilt of leaving the whole job to Paul. There was still more weeding, all the planting, and all the mulching to do. He asked me where to plant the flowers and I said, "along the border," and trusted him with placement.

At school the headache had intensified to the point of near nausea, and kids were extra loud from Friday excitement and the anticipation of taking their geography test. One precious student followed me around the room, telling me about the outstanding grade he just got on a Bible test. He was thanking me for the grade.

"But I don't teach that subject. Why are you thanking me?" I asked.

"Because," he replied, "Mrs. Ruiz grades our punctuation which I used to be really bad at, but because you're such a great grammar teacher, I do really good at it now. "

(Between the pure sweetness and comic irony of his compliment, myheadache almost vanished.)

When I got home from school, my mailbox garden greeted me with lovely purple sweet williams on a wonderful smelling bed of black mulch. Scanning the yard, I beheld all the landscaping was done! Every last flower planted, every weed gone, every garden area heaped up with fragrant chips of bark.

I came into the house to thank Paul, but found him zonked out on the couch, next to Joel, enjoying the late afternoon in silent slumber. I took two ibuprofen and went up to bed. When I awoke two hours later, I hugged Paul tight and said everything looked great. I think the man deserves a medal.

What a Fankful Friday I've had.

Coffee, Cream, and Cronies: Renee's Birthday Party

Twice in one week I had a hilariously refreshing, great time with sisters in Christ. The first was on Monday night when Laurie gathered a gaggle of us together to catch up on what God's been doing. Sounds serious, and much of it was, but throw in a trio of Kare(y)ns and listen to us cackle!

The second was last night. I had a rather impromptu, surprise dinner party for my friend Renee'. I had asked her a week ago to give me the names for 4 or 5 girlfriends she would want to have dinner with, and she said, "I don't think I have any girlfriends left." It made me laugh, but she was in the doldrums. She said I was the only one she could think of. Malarkey! I knew better. Pondered a few days taking her out one-on-one for dinner, but after praying, I knew in my heart she needed good, old-fashioned girl time to cheer her up, and who among us doesn't need to hear we're loved?

I called her Tuesday and made plans to take her to Applebee's, just the two of us, since she couldn't think of other friends. Fast forward to Thursday night when I started calling her friends (who are also mine, but not as close; they all attend one church, I another. We've all taught at some point together.) Everyone who didn't have something planned already said "yes" on the spot. Cheryl, Liz, Kathy F, Kathy K, and Pam all agreed Renee' needed a party in her honor.

Renee' loves coffee. Addicted is more like it. Even her daughter, Maggie (one of my Inklings),can't make her subjects and verbs agree without caffeine. So Theme Girl here decided to make coffee the theme. On short notice, it was easy for guests to pick up gift cards for her favorite coffee drive-thrus and convenience stores, or a bag of coffee and flavorings. I gave her a mug that says "Friends Forever" that has the verse "a friend loves at all times" scrolled on the inside. The funniest card, Pam's, said something about "at our age , our bodies are still temples...even if the steeples are pointing in the wrong direction."

My centerpiece came together fast. I needed it cheap, simple, and girly. An etched vase with greens begged for new flowers, but I didn't want to buy some. (I mean I didn't want to spend money on them!) While thinking of conversation-starters to write on coffee filters, I scrunched one up when it ripped, and --eureka! --it looked like a rose. Marie Osmond's 1970s song "Paper Roses" popped into my (aging) head. I quickly made three white coffee filter roses and nudged them into the greens. Flanked the vase with a pair of Irish coffee mugs filled with real coffee (lightened with creamer) and floating tea lights. I had brown/tan/creme striped ribbon sort of figure-eighting among the three centerpiece things.
(For the record, I nixed the conversation starters. This group needs conversation enders.)

Guests arrived between 6 and 6: 15, but Renee' didn't show till 7:15. Not to worry, we're a self-entertaining bunch. I made a large, thick paper placemat that we all signed and Renee' loved it. Didn't even spill soup on it.

Menu: Rainbow Bean Soup (would've been butternut squash soup but the store had none), Chicken Caribbean Salad, Boiled and Buttered Potatoes, Portuguese hot rolls, and coffee cake. It all tasted good, but since everyone was so hungry, they ate faster than I could serve things up, so they ate salad THEN chicken THEN potatoes in a rather off-beat sequence, but no one complained. The chicken was a bit dry, but that was from trying to time it for Renee's arrival. Say no more. The best cake I've ever had is the Sock-it-to-Me Cake that my daughter Sarah made, but presentation suffered : when I turned it out of the Bundt pan (either it wasn't cool enough or hadn't been sprayed generously enough) I joked , "Hey, Renee' , ya know, when you're over 40, even your birthday cake falls apart."

We shared some serious moments about how Renee has been a dear friend.
1. She has either hosted a party for one of us or our kids at some point.
2. She has brought food to the ER when we're starving and cashless.
3. She has babysat for us.
4. She has come to our parties. (She came as a Renoir lady for my 40th; a real hoot!)
5. She has always listened, without judging, and reminded us to forgive our offenders.
6. She has never appeared flustered or put out in the least, no matter how many people are in her house or how late they've stayed. To feed so many so often, she owns five Crock Pots. She calls herself Crock Pot Queen.
7. She can be counted on to make us laugh.

We laughed a whole lot last night. Liz brought a new game called "Last Word." Pam, the oldest among us, had a hard time catching on, and every time she messed up, she'd raise her arm and say, "Ten years, girls, ten years." I knew she meant it would be us in ten years , but I just had to ask, "Is that how long it's going to take you to catch on to this game?"

Stephen took a picture of us as a keychain keepsake for Renee'.

Everyone kept saying this was so much fun, we've gotta do it again. Whose birthday is next month? Cheryl! The thing is they say none of them could have as much uninterrupted time as they got here (Paul generously took the kids out to dinner, then sequestered the boys in the basement to watch playoffs, while Sarah was out babysiting). The last person (Renee') lingered till well past midnight. She said, "Thanks, Zo. This was so much fun. I really needed it."

And then, in ture Renee' fashion, she asked, "Do you have a travel mug and could I get some of that extra coffee to take with me? I'm going home to cook now. I've got a bunch of people coming to my house for the Ravens game tomorrow. I need the caffeine."

Flowers

I could use some right now. Actually, I'm ready to pack my suitcase (again) and leave home. You think life with toddlers is hard, try living with young adults. I don't remember signing up for persecution when I conceived my firstborn, but ya know, some things in life are free.

But I digress.



Flowers really pick me up. They're not just bundles of overpriced, dying petals. To me, flowers tell me that God loves me. With a word, He spoke them all into being. Big ones, little ones, red,yellow, pink, purple, blue, and white ones in a bed of greens. Flowers that the human eye loves to see. Flowers that human eyes have never seen. Dainty ones that hug the woodland forest. Humongous ones that end up in parades and presidential cavalcades. Some smell wonderful; some are more for show. I'm not picky, I'd just like to see more of them.

In my house.

I wish I didn't have to write it on a list. Sometimes not even that has worked. He's remembered the bread, milk, eggs, and toilet paper, but where are the flowers? If I could afford a TV ad on SuperBowl Sunday, it would not be at halftime. It would be smack in the middle of the third down of the first quarter, and every third down from there on out. The ad would say, "Hey, didja remember the flowers or just the chips?"


But I digress. Again.

Flowers mean more to me than I can put in words. I used to apologize for this passion, as if I was just being silly and frivolous. But, does God make silly, frivolous things? No. And does not the Bible say that "for His pleasure ALL things were created?"

Therefore, today, I will dream of my next bouquet on the table. Last week's roses wilted and ended up exactly in the same place as last night's peas. But, oh, how I adored them (the flowers, not the peas) and told my husband how good they make me feel.


Cared for. Cheered. Romanced.


I shall thank God again for flowers, because, like all other lives, they bloom and provide a beauty all their own, if only for a short time.


One bouquet of flowers in exchange for a cartload of SuperBowl grub. That's not too much to ask, is it? No.



Too much to expect? Hahahahahahahahahaahahha (she laughs cynically).

ColorBlends.com

Gorgeous, gorgeous flowers!
Sidebar organizes them by color, bloom time, and other methods.
How-to videos right on their site, just click and play. Includes "How to Plant 100 Tulips in 30 Minutes or Less."

Check this site out before planting just any bulbs.

There's a clever homespun song about "the history of tulipomania" by an older gentleman named Jay Leonhart. He's playing a bass or viola (?) and appears to be making up the words as he goes along. I was enchanted, the way I used to be when I listened to grandpa tell stories.

Note to self: ColorBlends even does fundraisers with a 50% profit. A bit late this year, but keep in mind for next time you're raising money for missions.