Winding through the neighborhood on my bike, I reach the trail. Everyone tells me this is a good place to ride, but I’m suspicious. It’s hard to shake the memories of bike riding through the mountains in California and be satisfied with this meandering path through the prairie, but I take a deep breath and embrace what is: this trail with its tall grasses and singing birds, fresh spring air, a measure of silence.
I breathe in the crisp air, sweet as Boone’s Farm wine, and quickly become intoxicated with its healing beauty.
My thoughts wander back and forth like the dirt trail I ride on. Even after almost seven years, I miss California. I consider the out of control wildfires there, grateful my mother moved away from Santa Cruz a couple of years ago.
I pray for Leslie, a constant prayer I’ve prayed all week: God have mercy. Be present to her. Heal her. Please, God. Heal her.
I coast down a hill and feel the cobwebs in my soul scatter, leaving me exposed; vulnerable. I ride along quietly with a keen awareness of God’s gentle presence. Unanswered questions sit between us. We’re quiet, like estranged lovers who run into each other at the mall, both waiting for the other one to say the first word.
A character in the story I’m writing dances in my mind, and I’m dying to write it all down. I consider cutting across the path and over to Starbucks where I can scribble on napkins, but I need to get home and shower, go to the grocery store, clean the kitchen floor. So I head back home instead.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
I'm lousy. Thanks for asking!
The first time it happened, I was staring at the raw shrimp on sale for $7.99 a pound. Just a few minutes later, it happened again. This time I was handling lemons in the produce department, looking for a slightly tender, juicy one.
“How are you doing today?” the produce guy asks.
“Fine, thanks.” I respond.
“You don’t sound too convincing,” the produce guy continues. “Are you sure you’re doing okay?”
Well, actually I’m not.
But does the produce guy really need to know that? Seriously. Does he moonlight as a therapist, drumming up business all day long in the produce department at the Jewel?
What do you say to this?
“How are you doing today?” the produce guy asks.
“Fine, thanks.” I respond.
“You don’t sound too convincing,” the produce guy continues. “Are you sure you’re doing okay?”
Well, actually I’m not.
But does the produce guy really need to know that? Seriously. Does he moonlight as a therapist, drumming up business all day long in the produce department at the Jewel?
What do you say to this?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
summer cooking
Summer is creeping its way toward us, one sixty-five-degree day at a time, and I can hardly wait. Summer means trips to the pool, playing outside all day long, and hanging out with friends we don’t get to see as much during the school year. Of course, it also means Mom has little time to actually get anything done, since we’re all so busy having fun!
One of the ways I like to save time in the summer is in the kitchen. Who feels like cooking when it’s hot? Not me. I have a notebook of summer meals that I pull out, with lots of main dish salads and grilling recipes. You can also find some great recipes on this Summer Food blog.
Here’s one of my favorite grilling recipes and a tip: freeze your meat right in the marinade. That’s right. When I buy meat, I buy a lot of it and freeze it in family-sized portions. I make two or three big batches of our favorite marinades, then I add the marinade to the ziptop bag right with the meat and pop it into the freezer (labeled, of course). The meat will marinate while you thaw it in the refrigerator. It’s simple. It’s easy. And it works for me!
Hoisin-Marinated Pork Chops
Cooking Light
The chops need to marinate for at least 8 hours, so this is a great make-ahead dinner.
1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1/4 cup hoisin sauce
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced
8 (4-ounce) boneless center-cut loin pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
Cooking spray
Combine first 5 ingredients in a large zip-top plastic bag; add pork chops. Seal and marinate in refrigerator 8 hours or overnight.
Prepare grill.
Remove pork from bag; discard marinade. Place pork on grill rack coated with cooking spray; grill 3 minutes on each side or until done.
Note: Store cooked pork in refrigerator for up to 2 days.
Yield: 8 servings (serving size: 1 pork chop)
NUTRITION PER SERVING
CALORIES 188(30% from fat); FAT 6.2g (sat 2.1g,mono 2.8g,poly 0.7g); PROTEIN 25.1g; CHOLESTEROL 62mg; CALCIUM 27mg; SODIUM 249mg; FIBER 0.2g; IRON 1mg; CARBOHYDRATE 6.7g
Head over to Rocks in my Dryerfor more great tips!
One of the ways I like to save time in the summer is in the kitchen. Who feels like cooking when it’s hot? Not me. I have a notebook of summer meals that I pull out, with lots of main dish salads and grilling recipes. You can also find some great recipes on this Summer Food blog.
Here’s one of my favorite grilling recipes and a tip: freeze your meat right in the marinade. That’s right. When I buy meat, I buy a lot of it and freeze it in family-sized portions. I make two or three big batches of our favorite marinades, then I add the marinade to the ziptop bag right with the meat and pop it into the freezer (labeled, of course). The meat will marinate while you thaw it in the refrigerator. It’s simple. It’s easy. And it works for me!
Hoisin-Marinated Pork Chops
Cooking Light
The chops need to marinate for at least 8 hours, so this is a great make-ahead dinner.
1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1/4 cup hoisin sauce
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced
8 (4-ounce) boneless center-cut loin pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
Cooking spray
Combine first 5 ingredients in a large zip-top plastic bag; add pork chops. Seal and marinate in refrigerator 8 hours or overnight.
Prepare grill.
Remove pork from bag; discard marinade. Place pork on grill rack coated with cooking spray; grill 3 minutes on each side or until done.
Note: Store cooked pork in refrigerator for up to 2 days.
Yield: 8 servings (serving size: 1 pork chop)
NUTRITION PER SERVING
CALORIES 188(30% from fat); FAT 6.2g (sat 2.1g,mono 2.8g,poly 0.7g); PROTEIN 25.1g; CHOLESTEROL 62mg; CALCIUM 27mg; SODIUM 249mg; FIBER 0.2g; IRON 1mg; CARBOHYDRATE 6.7g
Head over to Rocks in my Dryerfor more great tips!
Monday, May 19, 2008
blog traffic
People all over the world are looking for help with their llamas. When I named this blog Llama Momma, I had no idea what I was doing. Seriously. I started the blog on a fluke, and found I really enjoyed blogging. So here we are.
Unfortunately, my friends over at google think this is a blog for cute, spitting animals.
The number one google search of late? Llama crafts.
Honestly, every day I have several people looking for llama crafts. And now it will happen even more because I’m saying it over and over again. Llama crafts, llama crafts, llama crafts. If anyone knows of any, pass them on in the comments or by email and I’ll post it as a public service announcement. Someone has to help these people with their crafts! And if the Llama Momma isn’t willing to step up, I ask you, who will?
People are also looking for information on the following:
my llama having a baby
sleep habits of llamas
emotional llama
llama + missions
laundry launching llama
That last one has me wondering.
Every once in awhile, someone finds this post after googling making formula on a plane, or should I take my baby on the plane? And I wish I had some way to get in touch with them. No, I think. Don’t do it unless you absolutely have to.
And my favorite? Just a few weeks ago someone asked: how do I make dinner with all of these kids my husband drives a truck. (Actually, that’s not a direct quote, but I don’t use profanity on my blog.)
And to you, overwhelmed mom, you simply do the best you can. Plan ahead and keep meals simple. Get the kids involved in the cooking if they’re old enough to help. And always keep a couple of frozen pizzas on hand. Go ahead. There is no judgement here.
Unfortunately, my friends over at google think this is a blog for cute, spitting animals.
The number one google search of late? Llama crafts.
Honestly, every day I have several people looking for llama crafts. And now it will happen even more because I’m saying it over and over again. Llama crafts, llama crafts, llama crafts. If anyone knows of any, pass them on in the comments or by email and I’ll post it as a public service announcement. Someone has to help these people with their crafts! And if the Llama Momma isn’t willing to step up, I ask you, who will?
People are also looking for information on the following:
my llama having a baby
sleep habits of llamas
emotional llama
llama + missions
laundry launching llama
That last one has me wondering.
Every once in awhile, someone finds this post after googling making formula on a plane, or should I take my baby on the plane? And I wish I had some way to get in touch with them. No, I think. Don’t do it unless you absolutely have to.
And my favorite? Just a few weeks ago someone asked: how do I make dinner with all of these kids my husband drives a truck. (Actually, that’s not a direct quote, but I don’t use profanity on my blog.)
And to you, overwhelmed mom, you simply do the best you can. Plan ahead and keep meals simple. Get the kids involved in the cooking if they’re old enough to help. And always keep a couple of frozen pizzas on hand. Go ahead. There is no judgement here.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
making a difference
I live in the suburbs.
I love my neighborhood and the court I live on, where my boys can ride their bikes around and around while I sit on a bench sipping iced tea. We live close enough to walk to school, and in the summer, we splash in our neighborhood pool. Sometimes we ride our bikes to get ice cream cones at the end of the day.
It’s comfortable here.
When I read about the work other people are doing for Christ, sometimes I feel uncomfortable. Inadequate. I wonder if what I do is enough. Am I really called to the suburbs? I wonder. At times I think I’d rather go to Africa or Asia, anywhere but here, sharing Christ with my neighbors in this comfortable place.
I read about the work Erika Haub is doing in South Central L.A., and weep sometimes at the beauty of her calling. (And I’m not even a crier!)
My long-time friend LeeAnn, a.k.a. FrazzMom, lives in the Bay Area of California, but manages to take her children on missions trips across the globe almost every year.
These people are making a difference in this world.
Am I?
I’ve mentioned before my husband’s call to missions, as a sender. We got a letter yesterday from a family we’ve partnered with for over a decade, and I read with joy that their daughter just graduated from college, and their son is on his way. I can’t tell you how encouraged I am to witness God’s faithfulness to their family.
We’ve supported the work of Compassion International long enough that several kids have grown up sending us letters, and we need to choose a new child to sponsor. When I read about global poverty, I think of the work Compassion is doing around the world to change things, one child at a time. It’s a small thing, only $32 a month, and yet a child’s life is different because of it.
I take care of my boys, loving them and teaching them and feeding them. (And feeding, and feeding, and feeding.) I clean the kitchen floor. I vacuum.
Is it enough? Am I making enough of a difference in this world? Am I being faithful to God’s calling on my life?
Honestly? I don’t know. I hope so.
I love my neighborhood and the court I live on, where my boys can ride their bikes around and around while I sit on a bench sipping iced tea. We live close enough to walk to school, and in the summer, we splash in our neighborhood pool. Sometimes we ride our bikes to get ice cream cones at the end of the day.
It’s comfortable here.
When I read about the work other people are doing for Christ, sometimes I feel uncomfortable. Inadequate. I wonder if what I do is enough. Am I really called to the suburbs? I wonder. At times I think I’d rather go to Africa or Asia, anywhere but here, sharing Christ with my neighbors in this comfortable place.
I read about the work Erika Haub is doing in South Central L.A., and weep sometimes at the beauty of her calling. (And I’m not even a crier!)
My long-time friend LeeAnn, a.k.a. FrazzMom, lives in the Bay Area of California, but manages to take her children on missions trips across the globe almost every year.
These people are making a difference in this world.
Am I?
I’ve mentioned before my husband’s call to missions, as a sender. We got a letter yesterday from a family we’ve partnered with for over a decade, and I read with joy that their daughter just graduated from college, and their son is on his way. I can’t tell you how encouraged I am to witness God’s faithfulness to their family.
We’ve supported the work of Compassion International long enough that several kids have grown up sending us letters, and we need to choose a new child to sponsor. When I read about global poverty, I think of the work Compassion is doing around the world to change things, one child at a time. It’s a small thing, only $32 a month, and yet a child’s life is different because of it.
I take care of my boys, loving them and teaching them and feeding them. (And feeding, and feeding, and feeding.) I clean the kitchen floor. I vacuum.
Is it enough? Am I making enough of a difference in this world? Am I being faithful to God’s calling on my life?
Honestly? I don’t know. I hope so.
Friday, May 16, 2008
toddler talk
Light streams through the window as we sit down for breakfast together. Baby b. happily perched on his booster seat like a big boy next to me with my steaming mug of coffee. He eats his waffles, chattering happily.
“HOT” he says frequently, pointing at my coffee.
“Woof!” he exclaims when he hears our neighbor’s dog barking.
“More? More?” he points at the counter.
“What do you want more of?” I ask him. “You still have waffles.”
“More nandy? More nandy?” He points at the syrup bottle.
No wonder he loves waffles so much. He thinks he’s getting candy for breakfast! (Which, in a way, I suppose he is!)
**Note: title edited to deflect inappropriate google searches**
“HOT” he says frequently, pointing at my coffee.
“Woof!” he exclaims when he hears our neighbor’s dog barking.
“More? More?” he points at the counter.
“What do you want more of?” I ask him. “You still have waffles.”
“More nandy? More nandy?” He points at the syrup bottle.
No wonder he loves waffles so much. He thinks he’s getting candy for breakfast! (Which, in a way, I suppose he is!)
**Note: title edited to deflect inappropriate google searches**
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
the potter's wheel
My hands jump up and down on the wheel as I work the moist clay into what I hope will be a bowl. Gray water sprays my arms as I rub my forefingers along the rim.
“You’re making a huge mess,” Twin B. notices.
“It’s okay to make messes here,” our teacher reminds us.
“Yeah,” B. giggles, digging his own hands into the mound of clay centered on his wheel.
A few weeks ago when I asked B. what he might like to do, just the two of us, he immediately responded, “I want to take a pottery class.”
So here we are.
My misshapen bowl bends inappropriately and the more I try to make it stand up straight, the more it lilts to the side. “I think I need to start over,” I moan, ready to wad the whole mess up and begin again.
“Not so fast,” our teacher peers over my wheel, “it’s not over until it’s over. Some of my most beautiful pieces are born out of my mistakes.”
So I keep working with my sagging, sorry looking bowl, but it’s just not coming together.
“You know, if you bend the side a bit more and add a handle, it would make a perfect gravy boat,” our teacher observes.
And she’s right.
I wonder if God ever feels that way about me and all of my mistakes? Does he ever look at my life, shake his head, and think well, now she’s done it. What the heck are we going to make out of that? Or does he know he’s making a gravy boat all along?
“You’re making a huge mess,” Twin B. notices.
“It’s okay to make messes here,” our teacher reminds us.
“Yeah,” B. giggles, digging his own hands into the mound of clay centered on his wheel.
A few weeks ago when I asked B. what he might like to do, just the two of us, he immediately responded, “I want to take a pottery class.”
So here we are.
My misshapen bowl bends inappropriately and the more I try to make it stand up straight, the more it lilts to the side. “I think I need to start over,” I moan, ready to wad the whole mess up and begin again.
“Not so fast,” our teacher peers over my wheel, “it’s not over until it’s over. Some of my most beautiful pieces are born out of my mistakes.”
So I keep working with my sagging, sorry looking bowl, but it’s just not coming together.
“You know, if you bend the side a bit more and add a handle, it would make a perfect gravy boat,” our teacher observes.
And she’s right.
I wonder if God ever feels that way about me and all of my mistakes? Does he ever look at my life, shake his head, and think well, now she’s done it. What the heck are we going to make out of that? Or does he know he’s making a gravy boat all along?
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