Culinary Cravings

So if I had the time and singleness of mind, I would love post about food. But there are so many great sources out there, how can I compete? Not to mention my ADD...anyway I really would love to post about food (did I say that already?). But since I don't the least I can do is share with you a friend who does and does a great job at that. Her recipes are delic and pictures, inspiring. So if you haven't already, head over to Laura's Kitchen and make something special for people you love! You won't be sorry.

Cell Phone Law

A new “no texting or talking on your cell phone while driving” law passed in Oregon that has been in effect for about a month now. This means some changing of habits for me to say the least. Now I don’t need a law to tell me that text messaging while behind the wheel is dangerous. The few times I’ve done it, I’ve ended up either texting the wrong thing or texting the wrong person. Both were dangerous and embarrassing as I recall.
But this no talking on your phone thing, I mean really. It has thrown quite a wrench in my normal communication habits. I like to make calls when I’m out running errands because it kills two birds with one stone. Also, my kids are strapped in so I don’t have to attempt the nearly impossible task of keeping an eye on them while also relocating myself to another floor of the house or even out of the house all together in order to maintain a level of quietness in the background of my calls.
Now, there is a contingency option so to speak; this “hands free device” clause. Since my phone doesn’t have blue tooth capability I have come up with a couple of methods that sort of work for me while also staying within the bounds of the law...technically...I think...
One is where I give the phone to my three year old daughter to answer. I mean she’s not driving and she can talk so...this one seems pretty obvious. The only thing that sometimes interferes is her free will. Therein lies the wild card.
“Charley tell Daddy we’ll meet him at Baja Fresh in an hour.” I’ll instruct.
“Hey Dad, do you want to go to McDonald’s for lunch with us?” she’ll say.
“Your mom is taking you to McDonald’s? Your mom hates McDonald’s... Which one are you going to?” a confused daddy will ask.
“The one with the play place!” she’ll emphatically suggest.
“Off 224? Can I talk to mom?”
“Well, she’s busy driving right now so that’s why I’m calling. It’s unlegal ya know? Hey, I got new shoes! They are all pink and sparkly! They are a little bit big, but not too big because I am a BIG GIRL! Ya know Dad?”
“Um, yeah hey that’s great. Listen, Charley I have to go now because I have some work I need to do okay?”
“Okay. I’ll call you every five minutes!” Click.
Insert me into the background of this conversation saying things like, “No, Charley that’s not what I said!”, “Not McDonald’s-Baja Fresh!”, “ LISTEN TO ME!!” and “What did he say??” All this just to have her scold me for not being quiet while she was on the phone, “cause that’s rude. Ya know Mom? Oh and Daddy says I can get new shoes!” Yes, we are aware that she is delusional.
So what’s a girl to do other than take the phone while at a red light and try to discreetly send a text message while keeping the phone in my lap and one eye on the intersection in front of me so as to not appear as though I am texting. To clarify the crazy conversation my husband just had with our daughter he will then be obligated to engage in a string of confusing texts that read something like this:
“NOT! McD’s. Baha.”
“As in Bahahahaha the joke’s on you?”
“What? No.”
“Okay, so I’m headed out. See you in a few.”
“Where are you? We’ve already ordered.”
“I’m at McDonald’s off 224. Where are you?”
For obvious reasons I have found another method of communicating via the cell phone while driving necessary. In this scenario I’ve employed the “open the phone, set it in my lap and just yell in the direction of the phone” method. This works only if the other person is willing and able to yell back at me so that I can hear them. Devlyn sometimes is able to do this and we can exchange information such as, “I’m on the road and on my way to the dentist,” and “If you haven’t gone to the store yet, can you pick up some grape juice?” “Okay!” It’s successful, but a bit hostile to tell you the truth.
So for those times when I just want to call my husband, touch base and communicate sweet, endearing, loving and encouraging words, I’ve had to get REAL creative. Here’s what we do. I send him warm, tantalizing, love thoughts. (DON’T GAG! You know you wanna do it too!) Thoughts so dear and so strong that neither time, nor space, nor laws, nor three year olds can interfere with or keep them at bay!
Nonsense you say? How do I know it works? Because when Devlyn is at work and he receives these love thoughts, he immediately turns his collar all the way up around his neck. This is where he stores the thoughts until he comes home. They fit perfectly in this little makeshift cradle around his neck and ears. And once he gets home, I have visual confirmation that he received my thoughts and no one ends up eating lunch by themselves at a gross, greasy, grubby McDonald’s. Try it. You’ll love it. You’re welcome.

Self Discovery

I am not a fan of "self discovery" in the traditional sense I guess. It rubs me the wrong way. It seems so self indulgent and vain really. This is not to say that I am not either of those things or haven't been guilty of taking any of those quizzes on Facebook that promise to tell you which Jane Austen heroine you are or where you should live. I admit they are enticing because we love to "talk" and "learn" about ourselves. By the way I am not the naive main character from "Northanger Abbey," nor am I meant to live in Seattle. Really, I do not always think the best of people and I am not "tired of the scorching sun and heat" of Portland! But what I have noticed in reading other people's results is that theirs aren't usually right for them either. People "publish" their results so we can all read how "artsy" or "down to earth" they are, but really all I'm reading is how "intellectual" or "stylish" someone thinks they are! Self discovery or self disillusion?

Here's what I'm getting at. In twenty-something years of learning about myself here's what I've discovered: I'm selfish, not easily satisfied, always right, a bad friend, undisciplined, unmotivated, and a gossip with depressional tendencies to say the least. I could go on, but this list is painful enough as it is. The more we seek to be the most or get the most out of life, the more dissatisfied we seem to be. The more we expect out of ourselves or out of other people, the more disappointed we usually end up being. I believe this is because we are flawed, fickle and insatiable, people.

This is why the Bible says things like, "For all seek their own, not the things which are of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 2:21) As well as, "He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it." (Matt. 10:39) Paul gives up his previous, hard earned, "successful" life as a "Pharisee among Pharisees" to follow Christ.

There's a lot of wheel spinning out there. Not that we shouldn't spin our wheels, but maybe we should spin them in a different direction. I came across the most beautiful passage today in Colossians that really sums up my thoughts on "self discovery" and all the energy we spend on it and specifically the direction we spend it in. I think if we want to do true, beneficial, edifying self discovery, perhaps we need to look somewhere other than inward because frankly, I've found there's just not a lot there worth hanging on to.

"He has delivered us from the power of darkness and translated us into the kingdom of the Son of His love, in whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins. He is the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things consist." (Colossians 1:13-17)

Some good spiritual food for thought in case you're thinking of doing some introspective soul searching or for the next time you want to dig deep into your origins. We were created for Him, through Him and we consist in Him only.

The Way of the Lord

In reading Proverbs ten today, I was struck by verse twenty-nine, "The way of the Lord is strength for the upright, but destruction will come to the workers of iniquity." I was comforted specifically by the first part and I felt refreshed in a way as only the Word of God can refresh. It was almost like reading those words made them true for me. Then I wondered, if I hadn't read them would they still be true for me? More specifically, are His promises still true for me even if I rarely read them or perhaps don't ever hear or read of them or are mindful of them (I'm talking about specific promises-the ones "we Christians" like to name and claim)?

Here's how my thought pattern went from there. I am strengthened by reading my Bible. Reading God's promises for the righteous encourages me and strengthens my heart. How can I be sure that I am part of that group called "the righteous" or "the upright"? It's not done flippantly, especially with verses like Romans 3:10 out there, which says "There is none righteous, no not one." Isaiah tells us that our best righteousness is like filthy rags before the Lord.
John 15:3 "You are already clean because of the Word which I have spoken to you." Ah, yes. The (capital) Word being none other than Jesus Christ, has a cleansing affect in our hearts, our minds, our lives. "Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God." Romans 10:17 So I need to read the Word of God. He is who makes me clean. And if you're still not sure about that, read your Bible. You will be convinced and cleansed in the process. It's a real win-win.

When I take the time to read, I glean so much that I am overwhelmed and perhaps I've only read but a few pages. I feel I should have to read that same section everyday for a month before I can really "get it" and begin to move on. At this rate how can I retain all the truths that the Bible would speak into my life? And as the Lord would have it, this verse came to mind. "But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you." (Italics mine.) So I am not to worry about reviewing everything I've learned up until this point every time I open my Bible to read or seek something new. The Spirit has me covered, but He can only bring to remembrance the things that the Lord has said to me, aka, that I've allowed Him to say to me, that I've heard from Him, that I've read of Him.

So, getting back to my original question. I conclude that the more I read the Word, the more I am in "the way of the Lord" and the more "upright" I am. Reading, meditating, studying the Word is "the way of the Lord" (we know this from Joshua 1:8) and it "is strength for the upright." Another win-win, if you will.

Proverbs 10:17 "He who keeps instruction is in the way of life, (gasp) but he who refuses reproof goes astray." (Italics, bolds and added gasp, mine.)
Notice the words in bold both in the verse above and below.
2 Timothy 3:16 "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness,".

So, how can we be in the way of the Lord and not be upright? And how can we be upright and not be in the way of the Lord? How can we apply God's promises to us when we don't read them, hear them, know them. I don't think we can.

Lesson Learned-"I'm lovin' it" Style

Today I had to return a library book to the Lake Oswego library. It was overdue. I kept waiting for an opportunity to go that way, since I did not want to waste gas on a single errand so far away. But nothing came up and I realized that every day I didn't go I was racking up overdue fees. So today I went.
We passed a park and I took note of the fact that it wasn't raining and thought perhaps we could stop there on our way back. Letting Charley run around and play would redeem the trip a little. Later down the road we passed a McDonald's with a big play place. Charley noticed it too.
I thought since it was lunch time and we don't have a play place like that by our house, we might as well go there. You know to redeem the trip.
So after the library stop we hit the McDonald's. Let me just say that when a mother is saying things like, "You have to eat two more french fries drenched in ketchup before you can go play in the play place," it's a rough life.
After the nuggets had been gnawed on, orange soda spilled and playtime thoroughly enjoyed, it was time to go.
"Charley, time to go home. Come down the slide now please."
"No! Hee, hee, hee!" Gleeful, rebellious giggling ensued. After me standing at the bottom of this colorful structure for awhile trying to coax, bribe and threaten my daughter down, I realized I was going to have to go up.
Now the way up was not a simple set of steps like the one shown here, or even a ladder, but this was a crazy angled back and forth set of floating stairs-for lack of a better description. You climbed up on one and turning and ducking you went up the other-sort of like an over/under thing that went vertically. Did I mention it's made for little kids and is therefore scaled down to little kid size? But I'm flexible, I could do it. It wasn't that it was difficult or complicated, it's that it made me look and feel ridiculous. Also, did I mention I was wearing a skirt? A mini skirt no less! It was mostly grammas in the room who were very impressed with my physically being able to do this. However, there was one dad to whom I wanted to say, "Dude! Come on, I know this is probably the most entertaining thing you're going to see all day, but don't be a perv and make me uncomfortable! Please look away!"
Anyway, all in all I have to say I think I retrieved my kid in the most ladylike manner that the situation would allow. Plus I was wearing leggings so that's one reason to be thankful it's cold outside I suppose.
Okay, so I get it now. I know why we wear the grubby sweats and the workout clothes. It's because we have naughty, sinful children.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

At the start of the third year of Chehalem Valley Academy's young life, two things happened, I became a senior and we got a new vice principal.
This is Dale Hosley. He replaced "Mr. Hamilton" whom had been there the previous two years. Mr. Hosley or "the Hoz" as we fondly referred to him as, couldn't wait to get his feet wet. He was ready to jump right in, anxious to give this administration position his all, get to know the kids and be our fearless, likable, leader.
Early on, during one of the orientation talks that take place during the first day or two I saw an opportunity and I seized it.
See, since we were a new, small, private, start up school with kids attending at different levels and with different educational backgrounds, sometimes the school had to supplement a student's class schedule with an "independent study" class. This was simply to help fill in the blanks for cases where a student who was a junior maybe never had a Health class that all the other juniors took the year before. Or say maybe you were a senior needing to graduate but there was a time conflict in which you needed to take two different classes that were going on at the exact same time. Say, like Geography. That was me. I needed Geography, but Geography was a Freshman class and since the school didn't even exist when I was a Freshman, I hadn't taken it. And Geography happened to conflict with Senior English. "Independent study" here I come! This translated into one thing. Paces.
These are paces. They are made by a homeschooling curriculum called ACE (Accelerated Christian Education). One year of paces in just one subject meant you had to complete about twelve little booklets. The format was identical for every pace. You read several paragraphs, answered a couple questions about what you just read, and after about seven pages or so there would be a checkup. This would ask you all those same questions again, maybe worded a little differently. After you answered these twelve to fifteen questions you would start a new section in the pace that was identical to the first. There were three checkups per pace and at the end of the pace there was a self test. This was all the questions from all the checkups combined. You did this, you studied it and then you took your pace into the office and said you were ready for Geography test #1. You sat in the office while you took your test, which was identical to the self-test, turned in your test and then received a new pace-pace #2 and then you started all over. This was tedious and time consuming and independent so you had to be disciplined to stay on course and ensure that you completed all twelve paces and tests by the end of the year. We hated paces. So much reading, writing, re-writing, memorizing and testing!
One morning at the beginning of a class that "the Hoz" was teaching, I think it was junior/senior Bible, somehow paces came up. He asked if there were anymore questions about paces. I raised my hand. I told him that Mr. Hamilton had only required us to do the checkups and tests and that we didn't have to do all the meaningless, mundane writing in between. This was a lie. "So, is that okay if we do it like that again this year?" He thought that was fine and responded as if I had just given him an inside tip into how things were run. He seemed to appreciate the tip. "Listen up," I heard him say as he explained this "standard" way of doing paces to the rest of the school at the start of the next chapel in which everyone would've been gathered. Most students thought this was a new way of doing this paces year and were excited about it. A few students who had heard me "ask my question" new this was bunk. They must've either thought that Mr. Hamilton had been giving me special treatment since they all had always answered all the questions in all the paces, or they thought they were stupid and had been doing extra unnecessary work the previous two years, or they knew I was lying. But they also would've known that they were going to be benefiting from this lie, so they kept their mouth shut. I sooo wanted to tell everyone "secretly" that I was the mastermind behind all this and that they could all thank me for my brilliance and lack of conscience. However, I knew it would never stay hush-hush and I'd be outed, punished and eternally bound to doing paces every Friday night of my senior year. So I kept quiet. So did everyone else, no one asked, no one told. Not even Donna, the faithful, loyal and much loved school secretary who had the mundane task of correcting most paces asked questions. It went over like...like...whatever the opposite of a lead balloon might be. It went over like a hot air balloon, which was fitting since that's what it was, hot air.

Rescue 911

The other night I called 911 from my cell phone. We were on the freeway driving home. It was dark and somewhat rainy. Devlyn and I both noticed the car in front of us swerving. Swerving a ton! It was only going about fifty mph while the speed limit was sixty-five, but it couldn't decide which lane it wanted to be in. It was mostly driving on the shoulder one second and then veering to the far left the next. It was really scary to watch. The brakes would get tapped, then the left turn signal would come on while the car would veer right and then the right turn signal would come on immediately followed by the hazards. We were following at a bit of a distance in the right lane, it was mostly in the right lane. Cars in the left lane would hang back until it seemed somewhat stable and then bravely step on the gas to pass it.
"We have to report this." Devlyn said. So, it being dark, me not having a phone book and being in a hurry, I decided 911 was the best route to take. I dialed and pressed send. Then my phone made a noise I'd never heard it make before. Weird. "Clackamas Emergency," a recorded voice said, "if you need help, say 'help' or press 2." I did nothing since all I could picture was a person with a broken leg somewhere saying "help." I didn't feel like I really needed help, that just wasn't the best description of the situation so I waited, assuming that there would be other options.
"I'm sorry. I didn't get that, if you need help, say 'help' or press 2," The voice repeated. Okay....it looks like this was my only option. "Help," I said. Shortly after an operator came on and asked what my situation was.
He (or she, I really can't remember what gender the operator was...weird huh?) patched me through to the Oregon State Police. As I was being transferred, the car in front of us pulled off the road. Devlyn pulled off right behind it. He got out without hesitating (I would have hesitated). As he was approaching the car, a woman got out looking around nervously and anxiously. They walked to the back of the vehicle, squatted down and started looking at the car. I wondered if she was trying to tell him that her car had a drinking problem that was apparent when you look under it.
Meanwhile, I was telling all this to the officer on the phone and feeling really stupid. Um, I'd like to report a drunk driver, Um yeah, hi, we're actually pulled over now and my husband is talking to her. Yeah, they are looking at the back of the car. No, they aren't getting aggressive. Yeah, I can read the license plate number. Oh, call back if I have any more info? Okey dokey, rodger dodger! Click.
While I had been on the phone with the officer, I had been watching Devlyn and this woman standing on the shoulder only about three or four inches from the white line, talking back and forth while huge semi trucks roared past. They weren't looking at me while I was on the phone, but I was waving my arm almost like a reaction, motioning for them to "Get the heck away from the freeway where cars were speeding past!!!!!"
Anyway, Devlyn came back to the car and the women got back in her car. "What's going on?" I asked. Apparently the back left tire of the car was a spare. Oh, yeah it is only half the size of the one on the other side and I'd only been staring at the back of the car for ten minutes. I must've been distracted by trying not to visualize my husband being taken out by a semi-truck!! I wanted to say, "Remember when you were standing on the white line talking to some lady about her car while semi-trucks roared past you!!!" But I didn't. I showed amazing restraint. I must've said something about it though, because he said, yeah she kept leaning backwards while I was talking to her and making me nervous. He said she seemed a little incoherent but he couldn't smell any alcohol on her. Devlyn found out where she was headed and told her how to get there using back roads. She needed to get off the freeway and keep it under thirty-five miles per hour. She got back on the freeway and we followed her most of the way, since it was on our way home. She still swerved. The spare tire was pulling the car to the left and she kept over correcting to the right. Scary. I felt a little silly for calling 911 but then realized weather she had been drinking or not, she really was unsafe on the road.
As we got closer to home, I thought, "I just called 911 tonight, I don't think I've ever done that before." And then about two seconds later, I thought, "yes I have".
When I was about five or six years old, I was at my babysitter's house with my younger sister, my best friend Ginger and her younger brother Danny. Ginger was a year older than me and Danny was a year younger. My babysitter Ginny, had a playroom for us. At some point an unneeded phone was placed in the playroom for us to play with. However, the phone wasn't broken and as fate would have it, there was a phone jack in the play room behind the toy shelf. I plugged it in. There I said it! I plugged it in. Next, I wanted to see if it worked, so I called Ginny's number (it was written on the phone) and hung up. A second later Ginny's phone rang. I listened down the hall as she answered it, "Hello? Hello?" Click. Hmmm, no harm done.
Later I wanted to use the phone again but I didn't really know anyone's phone number. There was one number I knew though. 911. I knew how to dial 911. So I did and hung up. Nothing seemed to happen. A minute later when no one was watching I dialed and hung up again. I may have done it a third time, I'm not sure. I do remember being brave enough to listen to "911 What's your emergency?" once before I hung up. A little while later Ginny came in and discovered the phone plugged in. She asked who had dialed 911. We all looked at her bewildred. Danny and Ginger because they had no idea what she was talking about and me, because I was a good actor. When no one fessed up, she marched out to the living room and had us stand with our noses in separate corners. She said we were to stay there until someone fessed up. "Maybe it was Bethany?" I offered trying to use my baby sister as a scape goat. "She's not old enough." Ginny shut me down and probably began to grow suspicious of me.
Okay, so I'm standing here with my nose in the corner. This isn't so bad I thought. Not bad compared to what might happen if I tell the truth. I'll be in more trouble with Ginny, then she'll tell my parents with whom I'll be in even more trouble with.
"Danny! Tell her it was you!" Ginger screeched in a whisper to poor Danny. Of course, she thought it was him. It wasn't her and oh what faith she had in me to assume it wasn't me. I was old enough to know better. Danny was younger than me, but still old enough to know better. I couldn't let Ginger know it was me. How embarrassing that would be. She'd think it was dumb and be confused that I would do such a thing. No, I was fine standing with my nose in the corner. After about an hour, Ginger wore Danny down and he finally confessed under much pressure. I couldn't believe it. He fessed up to something I did and when Ginny heard, she said Ginger and I were free to continue playing. "I can't believe Danny did that!" Ginger said to me implying the dialing of the 911. "I know," I replied still shocked by his false confession.
Really that memory has haunted me. I never fessed up to it. I stood there while Ginny told Danny's dad what had happened. Danny was going to go home and be in even more trouble. He'd probably even try to tell his parents that he didn't do it, but they wouldn't believe him.
I couldn't sleep that night, the one that happened a few days ago. I felt like either a police officer was going to knock on our door at any moment and say, "We pulled that car over you called about and the driver was sober. You're going to jail for abusing the 911 system," to which I would have to concede. I had abused it and, officer, I had lied about it and, officer, I had let someone else, someone innocent take the blame and the punishment.
Lock me up.