You start by peeling the wrapper.
Then you open your mouth REALLY WIDE and bring it closer. Closer!
Then you go for the kill. It starts with one bite, and after that there’s no stopping. There simply isn’t. Pretty soon, it’s *gulp,* utterly devoured.
Nothing quite like a homemade chocolate cupcake on a warm, breezy summer afternoon.
Coram Deo!
No, I’m not one of the witches in Macbeth… though, you might deem me to be one, judging by such a list. I’ve felt that way many a time standing in the checkout line at the grocery store. Sweet pickles and liver? The cashier gives you one of those looks signifying they think you’re more than a little crazy. How about raw pork sausage and ice cream? Disgusting. Even if you aren’t planning on combining these things into a meal once you get home, they simply look bad together.
Walking up the stairs yesterday, to survey the rain-soaked field below, and take a few pictures, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a big leaf sticking to the side of the office. Wait… was it really a leaf? It seemed to be… moving? Yes, this large, dark green object was definitely in motion, and on an upward slither towards the top of the office. It was the slug of my dreams in the flesh. The intentions and devious plans this slug had in store for the whole of humanity once it got to the top, will be one of the secrets lost to history (and just what did King Kong intend to do after he scaled the Empire State Building?); for after jumping at the realization that I had almost brushed against a giant slug, I called Dad out to view the monstrous thing, and snapped a few pictures for posterity’s sake. The slug had slimed its last slime — Dad, aided with a paper towel, plucked up Sir Slug, told him to say his final prayers, then chucked him from the top of the hill, to the bottom, where he landed with an enormous PLOP in a very cold, very deep, and very muddy pool of water. Hence, this young slug met his pitiful end — heartlessly and mercilessly flung with violent force to sink helplessly to the depths of Lake Greenwood. And I laughed. Yes, watching this slug’s sober execution carried out, I laughed. My heart is cold and hard indeed.
My doctor was very particular about the medicine he prescribed for me. Two ear infections, and a pretty red throat, were no small matter, and with much pondering, and deliberation, he wrote up a prescription for the best medicine that could be procured at Costco. Amoxicillin. All was well and good. But, I knew what the very darkest of old wive’s tales whispered of as the ultimate cure for colds. It’s hoarded like gold, and kept in secret stashes by half the world’s population, and bartered with by the other half. My own concealed supply is enough to carry me through this cold, and beyond. Chocolate, and ONLY dark chocolate at that, combined with my prescription of amoxicillin, have already been to this cold what a silver bullet is to a werewolf, and a stake in the heart is to a vampire. Already, this cold’s choking fingers have loosened their grip. Chocolate and amoxicillin is a potent cure indeed.
Coram Deo!
Cheese… A subject upon which poets have been mysteriously silent. It has a vast array of qualities bound up in its very name and nature, yet its virtues have long gone unsung. Its very nature, so varied and diverse, is one of our strongest bulwarks against the homogeneity of modern society; we, who battle against the onslaughts of such homogeny, ought to be embracing cheese with tremendous gusto! One great writer, however, could no longer suffer silence on this monumental subject:
But cheese has another quality, which is also the very soul of song. Once in endeavouring to lecture in several places at once, I made an eccentric journey across England, a journey of so irregular and even illogical shape that it necessitated my having lunch on four successive days in four roadside inns in four different counties. In each inn they had nothing but bread and cheese; nor can I imagine why a man should want more than bread and cheese, if he can get enough of it. In each inn the cheese was good; and in each inn it was different. There was a noble Wensleydale cheese in Yorkshire, a Cheshire cheese in Cheshire, and so on. Now, it is just here that true poetic civilization differs from that paltry and mechanical civilization that holds us all in bondage. Bad customs are universal and rigid, like modern militarism. Good customs are universal and varied, like native chivalry and self-defence. Both the good and the bad civilization cover us as with a canopy, and protect us from all that is outside. But a good civilization spreads over us freely like a tree, varying and yielding because it is alive. A bad civilization stands up and sticks out above us like an umbrella – artificial, mathematical in shape; not merely universal, but uniform. So it is with the contrast between the substances that vary and the substances that are the same wherever they penetrate. By a wise doom of heaven men were commanded to eat cheese, but not the same cheese. Being really universal it varies from valley to valley. But if, let us say, we compare cheese to soap (that vastly inferior substance), we shall see that soap tends more and more to be merely Smith’s Soap or Brown’s Soap, sent automatically all over the world. If the Red Indians have soap it is Smith’s Soap. If the Grand Lama has soap it is Brown’s Soap. There is nothing subtly and strangely Buddhist, nothing tenderly Tibetan, about his soap. I fancy the Grand Lama does not eat cheese (he is not worthy), but if he does it is probably a local cheese, having some real relation to his life and outlook. Safety matches, tinned foods, patent medicines are sent all over the world; but they are not produced all over the world. Therefore there is in them a mere dead identity, never that soft play of variation which exists in things produced everywhere out of the soil, in the milk of the kine, or the fruits of the orchard. You can get a whisky and soda at every outpost of the Empire: that is why so many Empire builders go mad. But you are not tasting or touching any environment, as in the cider of Devonshire or the grapes of the Rhine. You are not approaching Nature in one of her myriad tints of mood, as in the holy act of eating cheese.
A good civilization spreads over us freely like a tree, varying and yielding because it is alive… This is the wonderful philosophy that we can take away from cheese; give praise then for soft bries and hard cheddars, creamy feta and pungent stilton, tasteless buffalo mozzarella and fiery jalapeno monterey jack. You can read the rest of Chesterton’s magnificent essay on cheese here.
Oh, and I’m sorry G.K., I like my cheese with crackers, too; but the taste of biting into a mildly salty and creamy brie on top of a slice of tangy and chewy sourdough bread is not one to be rivaled, either. 
Coram Deo!
Wheat, milk, and honey form a triad of deliciousness. When God lead the Israelites into a land flowing with milk and honey, He expected that they would get creative with these elements and put them to the best use by making food like this:
Toasted whole wheat bread soaked with rich butter and golden honey. The next best use for milk and honey besides Baklava.
Anna
Fact: When you buy a ham from Costco you can expect to have it lying around in your fridge for the next whole month.
Myth: The kids won’t complain about eating it, after all, there are 101 ways to serve ham.
Macaroni and cheese doesn’t taste as good around the 5th day of eating it.
From small beginnings–
To great soup–
Accompanied by–
Whole wheat dinner rolls.
Gone!
Gracie
Dinner tonight: Chicken Caesar salad, accompanied by fragrant, lemon raisin muffins from my new cookbook Complete Comfort Food Cookbook
Sorry for the rotten picture, I need to practice my food photography skills a little. Maybe, you can expect more.
Looking outside you wouldn’t expect that it had just snowed an inch last night, resulting in the mayday calmity this morning. Though we tried, I think that it truly was impossible to calm the little ones, who at the prospect of an icing of snow went simply beserk.
Yes, snow and kids do mix. Quite well actually, perhaps too well. It is up to us ladies of the house, afterwards, to get down on our hands and knees to scrub the mud spots, wash the sopping clothes, blow drippy noses and make hot chocolate for those of the afflicted with the malady of red nose
Gracie
Bananas are an unusual fruit. There are a few factors that make this so. One, they are a medley of protein, vitamin c, dietary fibre and carbohydrates. Two, they are the perfect shape for taking bite sized mouthfuls. Three, once you get past the gag reflex concerning the texture, bananas turn out to be pretty tasty fruit; easy to feed to babies, easy to make into banana bread. Banana bread has a pretty short ingredient list, too: mashed banana, white flour, sugar, eggs and a leavening agent. Bake.
I’ve heard that runners especially appreciate bananas after a run, or on it. Grab and eat. I could anticipate encountering a few problems trying to transport and eat a banana on a run, though. And when your blood sugar is low? Eat a banana!
Three days before the new year, I feel excited about life. I think I’ll take advantage of this excitement to hug lots of people, get a lot of cleaning done and write on this blog. Yes, when I am excited I clean. Good for me.
What is there to be excited about? Foremost, when I fully realize the joy of my salvation I want to run a million miles without stopping, view the stars through new eyes, play songs to God on the piano with my hands travelling a mile a second, hug everyone and have them share my excitement. Burning with God’s love is an exhilarating feeling. I forget almost every time, though, that just like my body can’t constantly be on adrenaline, it is the same for my spirit. I have to walk with Him more often than race.
Then, I am looking forward to another chapter in my life. It’s already been recorded in the book of life, my times are in His hands, but I’m going to answer someday for how I spent every minute. 2007 is, God willing, going to bring a graduation for me. Sure, I’ve got lots of plans and plenty of lists, but who knows what tomorrow will bring?
I’m going to play hard today, love relentlessly, battle this cold, cook with creativity, read to gain knowledge and clean with a vengance.
In Christ,
Gracie
I have a love hate relationship with jelly beans.
P.S. This post makes 500 I’ve done since last year.
Coram Deo! Grace
I finish off my piece of toast and with a sigh set down my still steaming coffee mug. I pick it back up and take a sip again.
Outside all is grey, though a few days previous it had been as brilliant as a balmy afternoon in June in the Sierras. Jubilant was the word to describe it. But it melted quickly away with the gathering raindrops.
Now, I must ready myself for the dawning of the day and put on the armor of an 1850’s woman. Corset, chemise, corded petticoat, lace petticoat, dress, and, oh, I mustn’t forget to put on my stockings and shoes before I don my corset.
Spiritually too, I must put on the armor of God.Every day brings new battles, and I cannot expect today to be an exception.
Coram Deo! Graciebird
My freezer is beautiful looking. So clean. So pristine. So ice free. So empty. In fact, I like it empty. Some people may not, but I don’t think they appreciate the pretty picture that a junk free fridge or freezer makes. No messy spots, no icky looking bags or containers. Just well placed condiment jars and vegetables. The string cheese is in one place in the drawer.
I think another thing that my readers ought to appreciate is this post from Bryce. When governments take hard-earned money away from orphans and widows God calls it something—evil.
Coram Deo! Gracie