tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8875918416780299012024-03-19T04:22:00.598-05:00Barefoot in the Kitchenbecause i want to beAmandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-75849206352918479552016-04-21T15:28:00.005-05:002016-04-21T15:30:09.212-05:00Grandma.<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While I've recently been wistfully considering returning to this blog, and ticking through the spate of ideas for potential postings, this isn't one of them. It's not about the kitchen at all, except for the ways my cooking has been influenced by my grandma (i.e., pie, jello, old Menno cookbook) and the way food brings family together. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wrote this tribute for Grandma's funeral on April 16, 2016, when I said goodbye to her for the last time, a few days after the last time I actually talked to her. The opportunity to read this as part of the service was a huge honor to me; I didn't expect to be able to physically get through it, but I looked up from the words on the page only once and somehow made it to the end. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I just needed a place to share this, because I want to tell you about my Grandma Mayer. She's gone now, but not her legacy and her testimony. I want to tell you about her, because I want to honor her life and her impact in my life. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Oh, we’ve just been busy covering
chairs.” In the past few years, this has been my grandparents’ standard
cheerful response to my query about what they’d been up to that day. It was
realistic of their reduced ability to be active, but also full of humor and
positivity, in a way that I feel is characteristic of my grandma’s approach to
life. I hope to echo some of those values in my tribute today: to acknowledge
my deep sorrow in the face of her death, while also acknowledging the joy of
this truth. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> There is
definitely sorrow. It sounds silly to say “my heart is full,” but it must be,
because sometimes it trickles over out of my eyes. You would be sad, too, if
your grandma were as awesome as mine and she weren’t going to be around
anymore. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> She won’t
ride over with Grandpa in their golf-cart-Cadillac anymore, and I won’t get to
bend over to give her a short little hug anymore. I’ll miss making pots of
seafood soup for them, chuckling at her newest ways to bend the rules in a card
game, sitting down to a motley lunch together, and talking about what’s coming
up in the garden. Shoot, I’ll even miss her unique grape jello laced with
slices of banana, talking to her (and everyone else in the room) on speaker-phone,
and her perpetual preference for Ladies’ Golf even though that’s what we played
the last fifty times we visited. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Sure, I
have some things from her. My favorite blanket is so not-me girly, but it’s from
her and the one I always use anyway. There’s the classic old-school Mennonite
cookbook, spattered and pencil-marked, placed prominently on my shelf; I told
her she didn’t really need it anymore and that I did need it. And of course
there is a lifetime of photos and memories. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Some of those stories I wasn’t
there for but still know, like how she was woken up on a long car ride by
Grandpa proposing, and how she awkwardly didn’t answer him for the rest of the
trip. Or how she squashed a frog in her bare feet; started dozing during a
sermon and had a grandchild loudly admonish her; or sat in the car twenty
minutes waiting for Grandpa, who was sitting waiting right beside in the truck.
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The best stories I have, though,
aren’t as much stories as they are facts. Her candy drawer. Christmases at
their house. Danish pastries and pecan twists. The familiar smell of their
basement. Picking up sticks in the orchard and going out for ice cream
afterwards. Playing cards shoved “hidden” under the doily on the table. Cats
and popsicles and Rummikub and salsa-canning and French vanilla creamer and
bread soup. Organizing her pantry and cleaning her already-clean house. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Inseparable from the memories about
Grandma are the heritage, values, and example of one of my best friends and one
of the most beautiful women I have ever known. Some things are less significant,
like the knowledge that coffee isn’t worth drinking if it doesn’t scald your
mouth, and how to crimp pie edges, and that wearing old slippers is the best
way to get around the house. Some things I didn’t get from her, like her
preferences for cleaning rather than cooking, for Amish fiction, and for green-onion
butter sandwiches. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is a whole list, however, of ways
I hope I become like her and of qualities that I will always remember in her.
Grandma had prodigious patience, and ample opportunities in which to exercise
it. Trust me, with grandchildren like she had—I’m referencing my cousins, of
course. We brought kitties into the basement, causing an unfortunate flea
infestation, yet continued to plead for their allowance in the house anyway. We
ransacked her candy drawer as soon as our feet crossed the kitchen threshold;
we tracked dirt all over her clean floor; we threw apples at each other instead
of picking them and ate raspberries instead of bucketing them. And we were
always noisy. But I don’t remember my grandma ever reacting negatively or even
speaking critically. She was gracious, longsuffering, and gentle.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She was so sweet because she loved
so much. Family was obviously one of Grandma’s top priorities, and you never
had to wonder if she loved you. In fact, the only time I can think of Grandma
saying anything slightly negative were some of the comments my poor husband got
when she was getting used to the idea of him taking me 850 miles away. But her
love for family still got the best of her, and soon Brian was accepted and
loved, too. Going over to Grandpa and Grandma’s for holidays or playing games
is just part of life; the idea of feeling anything less than completely
welcomed at their house is an entirely foreign concept to me. You just ring the
doorbell and walk in. Actually, if you didn’t want to come over, you couldn’t
let her know you were around or she’d hunt you down. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the apex of her love for family
is her love for her husband, and if you’re here, you know exactly what I mean.
It’s been hard for me to keep this tribute about Grandma because so much about
Grandpa is intertwined in my thoughts about her. When I think of a solid
marriage, I think of theirs. Loyalty and faithfulness are words for concepts
that they lived out every day in their almost 63 years of marriage, and I will
always look to the example they left for me. Sure, Grandpa dreamed Grandma was
a cow in the middle of the night, and she backed into the gas pump once, but
they still held hands when they walked together, even in their 80’s. You missed
out if you never saw Grandpa and Grandma playing Wii bowling or husking corn
together or heckling each other in a competitive round of SkipBo. I feel like I’ve
never seen them separately, and I don’t know how to understand the idea of one
without the other. The hardest part of saying goodbye to Grandma has been thinking
of Grandpa without her. She loyally supported him through a lifetime of
ministry and he faithfully cared for her until the very end.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Another aspect of Grandma’s
influence on my life that obviously can’t go unnoted is her relationship with
God. The majority of times I would walk into the living room and my
grandparents were busy covering chairs, the book she would put down would be a
daily devotional or the Bible. Her promises to pray for me were not perfunctory
remarks, and her life of grace and service were reflections of Christ’s
presence. Any woman who codes in a hospital bed and then shows back up to sing
her favorite hymns has some pretty clear priorities. Lines from the song,
“Heaven is calling out to me, my soul longs for a city of peace,” keep going
through my head.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I could go on and on about my
beloved grandma. I think I already have. But you’re here; you knew her and loved
her, too. It always amazes me that no matter where I travel, somebody will know
Willard and Esther Mayer. You know how sometimes people are hesitant to be
known by their family? It has never crossed my mind not to proudly name-drop.
Yes, I’m <i>their</i> granddaughter. And
even though she’s not here any more, I’ll always be her granddaughter. I have
26 years and 364 days of stories and memories with her so far, and someday,
we’ll hang out together again. Until then, I’ll keep on valuing family, making
pies, supporting my husband, drinking scalding coffee, and being thankful for
my grandma.</span></span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-75140447028402767052014-04-22T20:53:00.002-05:002014-04-22T20:54:31.317-05:00The Incredible Edible Egg (and many diversities therein)We couldn't help it. Just as our precious chickens began to increase their daily production to nearly two dozen eggs, a certain booklet serendipitously arrived at our front doorstep. [Well, it arrived at our storage room doorstep...told you it must be more than coincidence.]<br />
"50 Deviled Eggs," the coversheet screams, accompanied by a bright photo of a perfect classic example.<br />
Inside, pages are lined with variation upon blessed variation on the foundational mashed-yolks-in-white method. We can choose from the odd Frito Pie to the clever Green Eggs and Ham to the dubious All-White to the upscale Bagels and Lox.<br />
Actually, we can't choose from those; so we choose them all. One batch a week.<br />
Initially in the heat of the moment, Brian and I decided to nix the ten least appetizing recipes to reduce our egg-intake from nearly a year down to 40 weeks (since that is so much shorter). After consideration, I have a feeling that once we make it that far, we'll push through for the last few.<br />
We're not just making and eating these half-shell morsels of goodness, of course. Immediately we constructed a rating system, allowing each variation a score of up to 20. 10 points for taste, and 5 each for texture and presentation. The two of us will share and average our private ratings.<br />
I anticipate a pretty broad range of results, although one must consider that each one is a deviled egg. It's going to have to try to not be delicious.<br />
It was only appropriate to start the eggcitement with an obvious success--California Roll. It delivered what it offered, rolling in a 15 (texture was the main downfall). Presentation banked a 5 from both of us; check it out.<br />
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Soy sauce, wasabi, and diced cucumber added to the mayo and vinegar, topped off with flaked crab, chopped avocado, and dried seaweed.<br />
Not as good as actual sushi, but what is?<br />
I'll try to keep you updated as we continue on this eggscellent journey.<br />
<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-7879844969466962622014-02-16T16:08:00.000-06:002014-02-16T16:08:11.062-06:00'Snow Day Like Today!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hQKDddzYj0DGelluTmg3_WXxoKnSqrAmOZlBhTQO8d_qQKNXP45_rMWTNWpzsHF64o41l_N6Da0PBIfe-GVa4kWRQejQUwO_5n6NBMXSafGsxMafrBQYWPGBAU60nYVaRpdKAjZVxBtH/s1600/IMG_0445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hQKDddzYj0DGelluTmg3_WXxoKnSqrAmOZlBhTQO8d_qQKNXP45_rMWTNWpzsHF64o41l_N6Da0PBIfe-GVa4kWRQejQUwO_5n6NBMXSafGsxMafrBQYWPGBAU60nYVaRpdKAjZVxBtH/s1600/IMG_0445.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
That was my overriding personal opinion when the excessive snowfall effectively shut everything down. Oh the joy and possibilities of a surprise day at home!<br />
With the help of some leftover coffee, I was in project mode all day long. All of sudden, my latent creativity screamed for release.<br />
So I made a shelf! No impressive carpentry nor actual technical skill involved, but I don't feel like I need to hide my slight hubris at the results.<br />
Take some boards from your in-laws' dairy barn. They may or may not retain a slight "aroma," if you know what I mean.<br />
Then take some bricks from your landlords. Prior consent is recommended, but running upstairs and asking while your husband is in the process of bringing the bricks inside may also be effective.<br />
Clean the bricks, because they just might be real dirty. <br />
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Next you alternate stacks of bricks with boards, which is a neat trick with bricks and blocks, sir. You can also make a quick trick brick stack, then a quick trick block stack. (Dr. Seuss shoutout!! I couldn't help it.)<br />
Stuff wads of used crossword papers in between the bricks when the wobbling is just too much to ignore or the boards just decide to stay warped.<br />
Then you have a shelf!!! And you can fill it with your favorite things.<br />
Like old Mason jars and cookbooks. <br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-16872665719522159392014-01-16T14:10:00.002-06:002014-01-16T14:10:51.439-06:00TraditionHigh five if you read the title in an appropriate <i>Fiddler on the Roof</i> voice.<br />
I love traditions. There's just something right about certain things always being.<br />
Especially when holidays roll around, I think more about how much I enjoy traditions. Asking others what their traditions are lets you catch a glimpse of who they are; we can all be celebrating the same day or event yet with that individual flair that makes it something much deeper.<br />
I look forward all year to my family's Christmas Eve with seafood chowder, spinach dip, and <i>It's a Wonderful Life</i>. (I considered making this post about the chowder--but then I realized if I spilled the secrets, our family wouldn't have a monopoly on the recipe, and then where would we be?)<br />
Now that I'm married, I get to share my family's traditions with Brian, experience his family's, decide which ones to incorporate into our lives, and make up new ones just for us. Last week we celebrated with the Millers and what Christmas tastes like to them: mini pizzas, baby carrots and ranch, and Reese's peanut butter trees.<br />
Considering this is only Brian's and my second Christmas together in a "normal" setting (i.e., not in Kenya), we haven't set a prolific number of traditions in stone yet. So far, we have rather arbitrarily decided that our Christmas meal must always include seafood, mangoes, and creme brulee--for this year at least. Here are Tuesday's results [having effectively postponed our festivities so as to prolong the joy of the holiday...] :<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMRjrvtEhZupzLRF3zcyXa6ooP33Cv9WZ_wzyyi0JvBFIeOugekzs5fJl7O1FETGo9-E1a5nYjMGWCKAWsUleJLB_cmZBpQ1HG7lsK3HVdE2f95ynL4AQ4SDrd6wvFhnY_3ttvNLDA9-S/s1600/IMG_0430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMRjrvtEhZupzLRF3zcyXa6ooP33Cv9WZ_wzyyi0JvBFIeOugekzs5fJl7O1FETGo9-E1a5nYjMGWCKAWsUleJLB_cmZBpQ1HG7lsK3HVdE2f95ynL4AQ4SDrd6wvFhnY_3ttvNLDA9-S/s1600/IMG_0430.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poached catFISH with sweet rice and tropical/MANGO salsa, citrus green beans, and sweet potato crescent rolls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFHM-j322L75LKWOtg0ibarmNI2WTQ6wQbJROIfMIcVbR0Q6VpeBZdd91KYY2cLNF0qI4sYWjRxKnBej-IUGVjasma7quzxy1YaUu5jM2zzlCm0sfggNF9fynbws62GCJR8fd3j6yLJ39/s1600/IMG_0435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFHM-j322L75LKWOtg0ibarmNI2WTQ6wQbJROIfMIcVbR0Q6VpeBZdd91KYY2cLNF0qI4sYWjRxKnBej-IUGVjasma7quzxy1YaUu5jM2zzlCm0sfggNF9fynbws62GCJR8fd3j6yLJ39/s1600/IMG_0435.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet potato CREME BRULEE and (decaf!) espresso.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mmm. The creme brulee recipe (I made up the rest...), coming up soon. Until then, find chances to honor the moments in your day by both commemorating in tradition and expressing in spontaneity. Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-25146059633450108432013-12-21T15:50:00.003-06:002013-12-21T15:50:58.230-06:00Mishaps and SuchI've got it. What about I plan to post every other Saturday or so?
That's totally not overdoing it nor completely forgetting it and gives
me a structure. And as an added incentive, helps me put off finishing
cleaning the house! Which is pretty much what I'm all about by the time
the weekend hits.<br />
Besides, I've already (almost) cleaned up the
extra messes I've made so far today (a quart of yogurt lassi all over
the floor/rug, anyone? oh, you broke your husband's special mug? why
does it smell like you left the granola in the oven too long?), so the
vacuuming can wait.<br />
Speaking of mishaps. I was considering posting
an album of visual illustrations of what goes on in this house when I'm
left alone in it. But I'm trying to keep my posts a little shorter and
more manageable, and anything close to slightly indicative of the litany
of chaotic instances would be a tome worthy of <i>Crime and Punishment</i>
comparison (in length; perhaps also in subject matter). Thankfully,
I've also slacked off in the photography element necessary for this
feat, so it's just not going to happen this time.<br />
Except for these
three photos I found stashed away in the annals of the summer past.
Enjoy laughing at my expense (don't worry, that's my only effective
coping mechanism anymore).<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJeIUv9Z68ZhNwLW6qMxbZVK42d00GoAh-KO0iyci12XWSPRFzV_e6dVo8QnwX-WyfNYNlwCnluspBnxsrSgyGiuMNoqH4J_8eEfnGbxtsZtYXQS86GYdMPLKc0FlPHa3vctgu-fq_y6D/s1600/IMG_0004.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJeIUv9Z68ZhNwLW6qMxbZVK42d00GoAh-KO0iyci12XWSPRFzV_e6dVo8QnwX-WyfNYNlwCnluspBnxsrSgyGiuMNoqH4J_8eEfnGbxtsZtYXQS86GYdMPLKc0FlPHa3vctgu-fq_y6D/s320/IMG_0004.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhibit A: When you cook beets in the microwave, check on them every now and then. Unless you <i>want</i> it to look like something very bloody died. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprI9rfE_MobiUg320uXI7_OgLZ6FDPzfefGMOnSf0u1L6HBaBsA8vcBHhqmYQXZhpcT4ZEItsc-fVEThEZrLv6cETyfGPRvc1gfv_Wrc3eUNvb1ykH1WyoH9NZMDx5TzFYwIGTA4ZJm0A/s1600/IMG_0009.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprI9rfE_MobiUg320uXI7_OgLZ6FDPzfefGMOnSf0u1L6HBaBsA8vcBHhqmYQXZhpcT4ZEItsc-fVEThEZrLv6cETyfGPRvc1gfv_Wrc3eUNvb1ykH1WyoH9NZMDx5TzFYwIGTA4ZJm0A/s320/IMG_0009.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhibit B: Ah,
the bucket. The bucket of fresh peaches that got turned into emergency
salsa because the leftover pickling juice spilled over in the fridge and
dripped down when we were gone for a week. Voila! Pickled peaches. Nom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKwZ8KN2OtEOuzWlptBcd76w9mw-YCbnKGMSOgNXYaRlagIXqs6OmO45_4exKwVTZMUdgBAX0xaLs-g40JvAJRhy51jTwntc3tnGbwwdHe2HwtBEWfc6e8yYQPH3Z_mLr-1_-O3KALjeKD/s1600/IMG_0005.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKwZ8KN2OtEOuzWlptBcd76w9mw-YCbnKGMSOgNXYaRlagIXqs6OmO45_4exKwVTZMUdgBAX0xaLs-g40JvAJRhy51jTwntc3tnGbwwdHe2HwtBEWfc6e8yYQPH3Z_mLr-1_-O3KALjeKD/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhibit C: is
not from the kitchen, but still a classic. I was so careful to wash
Brian's crisp white dress shirt on the delicate cycle blah blah, so
proud of myself to be paying attention. Just should've paid more
attention to that bright coral scarf I also wanted washed carefully...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There are plenty more where these came from. Trust me.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-24228791244353955372013-11-23T15:53:00.001-06:002013-11-23T15:53:45.584-06:00It's TimeTime to blog again. I was going to say, "Time to blog consistently again," but it'd be difficult to return to what never was.<br />
We'll see what happens.<br />
First off, before getting into all the juicy domestic activity details, I need to make a confession. <i>Barefoot in the Kitchen</i> is a somewhat misleading title for this time of year. Don't worry; I stay completely committed to the value of living without shoes. Just within reason. It's below freezing outside, and my tootsies get chilled walking around that linoleum floor.<br />
Introducing, for a limited time only, <i>Moccasin-shod in the Kitchen</i>.<br />
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That's right. I wear 70's moccasin-slippers, spandex, and my Congolese-fabric apron to cook. I'm not here to make fashion statements. At least not any good ones.<br />
<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-66449367379568654792013-11-09T01:11:00.001-06:002013-11-09T01:11:56.782-06:00Just KiddingSo you know that part where I said I would be posting my articles from my time here in Nairobi? I forgot about copyright and such. So...just pretend they're on here.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-89975092196446490162013-10-27T05:47:00.000-05:002013-10-27T05:47:40.515-05:00A Quiet Sunday AfternoonFor having been here in Nairobi only a little longer than a week, I've had a delightful range of pleasant activities. Not only have I spent more time sitting outside by myself in gazebos and under tropical flowering trees than I'm accustomed to, but I've enjoyed an immense amount of good company and additional job titles. So far, I've been some form of child control (although only minimally, considering the 2-year-old in question screams "No no no!" nearly every time we're in the same room--which is often, considering I'm living with her), grocery procurer and deliverer, officially commissioned overnight bodyguard, personal chef for from 3-19 eaters, proofreader, ESL teacher accompanist, kindergarten aide, and Kiswahili tutor, to name a few.<br />
I've actually even been doing what I came for, which is turning out to be even more enjoyable than I anticipated. There is just nothing wrong with spending my days meeting people dedicated to God's work and hearing their stories face-to-face. Then I get to sit out on the lawn in shorts in late October, drinking chai and finagling the jumble of my interviewed information into articulate articles. What a blessing to be able to help share stories of God's work! It's more than just the hot coffee that burns my heart as I interact and write.<br />
Please pray with me that I would be able to adequately express the heart of the people I am honored to meet, and to help spark others into fire for God's mission as they read my words. That I would be able to be a legitimate encouragement to the long-term workers here in the small ways that I am able. That whatever is going on in my stomach would take a chill pill. That I would survive without my husband for 2 1/2 more weeks. That I would be able to meet up with my contacts from up North. That Elise would finally stop screaming at me.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-49013168879332798732013-10-18T00:15:00.000-05:002013-10-18T00:15:14.323-05:00Sock-footed in the Airplane
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Here I sit, at the time I'm writing this, eyes stinging from saying go away to
sleepiness, throat constricting from saying goodbye to my husband, and heart
pounding from saying habari to this month of Kenya. Great. It hasn’t even been
12 hours yet since I left Kansas.</div>
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And so it begins! I realize that 1) I haven’t blogged in
“some time”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2) my next posts will
have nothing to do with house-wifery<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and 3) I’m not sure throwing in extra writing is my best idea since
that’s literally my to-do list for the next 3½ weeks. But I think I’m ready.
Ready to see what it will be like and give it a shot, at any rate. My fingers
were itching to get started typing and my brain was dictating what I could say
on here anyway.</div>
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To give a little more background as to what I’m referring:
EMM has asked me to come to visit Nairobi, in order to do some researching,
interviewing, writing, picture-snapping. How legit is that? That’s right, I’m
officially a photojournalist. At least, that’s what we’ll call it. Basically my
dream job, to travel, write, and take pictures. This isn’t really a job, but
that’s a triviality. I feel like God essentially dumped this opportunity in my
lap, since in His father-heart He knew I would need Kenya again before too
long. </div>
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I have been so blessed in how He has not only worked out
the details for this trip, but also in people’s continued support of my passion
and the privilege to stay involved and connected in His work in Africa.</div>
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God provided me with two great jobs this summer, as a
barista and house-cleaner, that have saved me up enough money to pay for this
month. They also both recognized the priority and importance of this time to me
and are allowing me to flit away from work yet jump right back in when I
return. </div>
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During my time in Nairobi, I’m planning to obviously get a
lot of articles written, but also to meet up with a few of “my people” from the
desert, spend quality time with some of my best friends who just moved to the
guest house, and eat lots of mangos. I pray that through this experience God
will just continue opening doors for my Kenyan heart to stay intentionally
connected to both the people I love there and the people I love here. I’m
thrilled that you care enough to read my ramblings here. </div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-57612595996557724952012-05-25T21:22:00.001-05:002012-05-25T21:22:28.704-05:00It has brought to my attention that I haven't posted recently. This could be true.<br />
Apparently the act of being barefoot in the kitchen takes enough time that I don't have so much extra left to blog about it. Perhaps I should try wearing shoes and see if that makes me more efficient?<br />
It's too bad my brain doesn't have a link to my blogspot (<i>when</i> I want it to...), because I really have crafted some epic posts in my head; alas and alack, they are lost in the Netherlands forever. I'm not really sure why they went there, that's just what I felt like saying. Maybe it's a good thing I don't write as often as I mentally compose.<br />
A lot has happened in the month since my last post. There's no way to concisely convey all the notable experiences, nor is there any need nor likely any desire for such overarticulation. I'm still trying to figure out my slant for my blog, as in, what's the point? Initially I intended to somewhat replicate the idea of some blogs that had recently caught my attention, by focusing on the ways I try to live simply in the kitchen/our home. Yet I also wanted to have this be a place to ponder thoughts and discuss reasons <i>why</i> I have this desire for simple living--something I haven't done very well yet. But if I start thoughts on those issues, and share stories from my domestic endeavors (and trust me, I have those...stay tuned), do I want to stop there? That's not all my life is. Although when I get too ambitious it does feel like it somedays. :) BUT I obviously can't blog about everything--apparently I struggle even when staying somewhat within the realm of the kitchen. Also, I ramble about everything once I start typing...I need schoolwork and writing assignments. Just kidding. Really. <br />
So. Taking advantage of this natural segue, let's talk about yogurt.<br />
(There was no segue. There still is none.)<br />
I've been making yogurt consistently since the first week we moved here. You can't blame me; not only is it fun, free with fresh farm milk, healthy, delicious, and versatile, it's delicious. That's right, it gets <i>two </i>delicious-es.<br />
I've grown up (hypothetically) on homemade yogurt--what a cool mom I have, right? Always an ample consumer, my consumption levels have only increased upon entering my own household. It is an extremely rare day that I go without some form of yogurt entering my nutritional intake--for breakfast with fruit or granola or even half-and-half in my milk with regular cereal, my packed lunch for work <i>always</i> has some glorified yogurty dessert, in smoothies, and although we don't often have it for supper dessert like my family did (we tend towards ice cream...someday there will be a blog about that), it still finds its way in often through homemade dressings, sauces, or sour cream. Basically, it is an essential component of my kitchen.<br />
Granted, I have this frighteningly strong love of bought yogurt. I can't compete with even the Kroger brand pina colada or acai berry. Ask Brian or my parents; if we are getting a splurge purchase, pretty much I want yogurt every time.<br />
That said, it seems kind of silly to buy yogurt when I make it all the time anyway. So I don't. And I really don't even feel like I'm deprived. (Except that I still haven't seen pretty much any Disney classic movies.)<br />
It's been cool; once people here learn that I make yogurt, they all want to know how, too. Okay, not all, but I've given out my recipe to numerous people either from church or even quite a few random people from work. And now, I get to give it to you! I just like to spread the joy; it makes me happy. :)<br />
First off, though, there are so many little differences to how to make yogurt, and I'm gonna go ahead and admit this isn't the only nor the best. It's just what I do. And I keep learning new things from other yogurt people!<br />
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YOGURT</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1HFpbymXMUkI4PBEAjO0OPOudscWk0dDCPaBXVqjQK6goH_bwj0K-iCZoZINrpYq9_lGfeosKXebXAidWOQwkz6vNoPUly3lwj0ITCu7LUdjzrS4U99uCOfzO6DPXbJvko5CqM7uWj_-/s1600/IMG_0232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1HFpbymXMUkI4PBEAjO0OPOudscWk0dDCPaBXVqjQK6goH_bwj0K-iCZoZINrpYq9_lGfeosKXebXAidWOQwkz6vNoPUly3lwj0ITCu7LUdjzrS4U99uCOfzO6DPXbJvko5CqM7uWj_-/s320/IMG_0232.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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All you need is a pot, thermometer, glass jars, starter, and of course, milk.</div>
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To make 4 quarts of yogurt, pour just a tince less than one gallon milk into a sturdy pot. You can use whole, skim, or anywhere in between. </div>
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Heat to 170 degrees or so (I have a hard time being exact about these things), stirring every now and then to prevent sticking to the pot. Not fun to clean. Once to the right temperature, remove from heat and place pot in the sink in ice water, or even just let it sit out on the counter, until it cools to 110 degrees. This is when you whisk in somewhere between 1/4 cup to 1 cup of starter yogurt...told you I'm not exact. :) The starter is simply bought plain yogurt the first time, and then from your previous batch of yogurt after that. I've been told you will need to restart from bought every once in a while, so I froze some manager's-special plain yogurt into ice cubes so I can just grab what I need when the time comes. (It hasn't yet, and I don't know what it will look like when it does...)</div>
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So yes, after you whisk in the starter, as well as a splash of vanilla and/or 1/2 c sugar if you feel like it, pour into your glass jars and set in an insulated cooler. Nestle one jar of hot water in there as well, and stuff in old sheets or something to fill the empty space. Let incubate for between 4-12 hours--longer equals sourer. Then stick in the fridge, and you're done! Unless, of course, you're like me and have a compulsion to always snatch off the cream top before you put it away. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda gets excited about yogurt.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJFV_nq2S9M5RinNKY8ndhk_O1_Zf2XxDRdW-FtBhKRNO-sIOqZa09R5uD3paq5s4hyET-kPrs3aCfMlK2mgz8BJT26wuUoLSFmx0JWsYZcM2is-HSz7wEQR9uvSZZcZ7seGJq0jQ_twY/s1600/IMG_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJFV_nq2S9M5RinNKY8ndhk_O1_Zf2XxDRdW-FtBhKRNO-sIOqZa09R5uD3paq5s4hyET-kPrs3aCfMlK2mgz8BJT26wuUoLSFmx0JWsYZcM2is-HSz7wEQR9uvSZZcZ7seGJq0jQ_twY/s320/IMG_0330.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Today, oh today, I tried a new method. Look how nifty it is--instead of heating the milk in the pot, heat water in the pot and milk in the jars and jars in the water! I love the idea of saving the mess that always happens when I get milk crud stuck on the pot and spill milk-ish trying to pour into the jars. <br />
Saving the mess is not what happened. I was on the road to success, pulling the filled and ready-to-go jars out of the ice water to put in the cooler. *suspenseful musics* The bottom of the jar straight up fell out. Milk. Went. Everywhere. I had no idea a quart of milk was such a voluminous quantity. Into the counter cupboard, dripping onto and even into the drawers below, splashing through a slightly-open corner cupboard, sloshing onto the floor. I just washed my rug yesterday, right? First time. Today got to be the second. Eventually I got things cleaned up, after tracking milk-footprints over my also freshly-cleaned floor while scurrying around to first finish the other yogurts so as not to lose them as well and to get the granola out of the oven since it got done at exactly the same time. But we all survived (sans that one quart); besides, I knew I needed to clean under those canisters. <br />
So it all worked out, plus I get an epic story to tell you! I thought getting avocado milkshake on the ceiling and dropping a bottle of Lysol were bad, but no, this one trumped.<br />
Sheeshers. See, this is why I never have time to blog. :) When I do blog I can't make myself stop at an appropriate time, plus I'm too busy cleaning up after my fiascoes anyway. Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-56276138963897195962012-04-20T20:00:00.003-05:002012-04-20T20:02:35.314-05:00Snippets<h4 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Top
three things of my day: </span></h4>
<h4 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">1. My co-worker brought me rennet. What is
that, you ask? Actually I have no idea, but it's an essential ingredient
in MAKING CHEESE. I cannot explain how excited I am. And that will only be made even better by anticipation over delayed gratification--I work until Wednesday. But when Wednesday comes...</span></h4>
<h4 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">2. Think of the word "burly." Now picture a man
epitomizing that adjective, complete with straw hat and beyond-walrus
mustache, as he lumbers over the cheese cooler beside where my now-very-familiar cheese-cutting location at work lies. He is carrying both a "Healthy Choices" cookbook--and a 15 lb log of
colby cheese, as well as three smaller cheese selections. The man himself, dirty jeans, cowboy boots, and beefy worked-hard hands, was epic enough; the rest of the situation completed his awesomeness.</span></h4>
<h4 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> 3. My fantastic husband had a most delicious gumbo on the
stove by the time I got home from work, and he had the (albeit dubious)
culinary genius to substitute rhubarb for celery. It really does look about the same, so why not? Like I said, faaaaantastic.</span></h4>
<h4 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><br /> Things like these help me find the joy in life.</span></h4>
<h4 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Please keep giving me the eyes to look for them, God. </span></h4>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-60060823605285713372012-04-16T19:48:00.001-05:002012-04-16T19:50:26.275-05:00Dairy FeverIt's nice when someone else catches the dairy fever, and you realize maybe it's contagious to be compelled to experiment with as many milk products as physically possible. It's like, we can, so we might as well!<br />
I speak of my parents' visit this past weekend. As far as birthday presents go, their presence was a fantastic one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoDF7AbLC9vvgakBqKeSBOxzam3fAQNplgqi6sMppHUi0CkTmvoZ5UckZKGynuyJEaCKxw6KfDh5I8zbprVKB5pLieijubRoey0yJI0yGzw98ZoL481cBtcoyr4qdhopGxgE2xtGN9HEHU/s1600/IMG_0292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoDF7AbLC9vvgakBqKeSBOxzam3fAQNplgqi6sMppHUi0CkTmvoZ5UckZKGynuyJEaCKxw6KfDh5I8zbprVKB5pLieijubRoey0yJI0yGzw98ZoL481cBtcoyr4qdhopGxgE2xtGN9HEHU/s320/IMG_0292.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saturday brunch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I also have to quick brag on my husband, who started off my birthday with a massively impressive breakfast in bed. Blueberry-pecan pancakes, fresh kiwi, pistachio yogurt sauce, and chocolate raspberry coffee. That's right; be jealous, everyone. :)<br />
Actually, everyone made my birthday great. I thought it might be hard to celebrate away from Ohio and people I know, but it was super special to get phone calls and cards and Facebookings. So thank you.<br />
But back to the dairy explosion in the kitchen. Since Mom and Dad were only here for the weekend, we had to make the best of the time available. Meaning, when we got home from the MCC sale midafternoon on Saturday, we got to work. We made butter, Greek yogurt, ice cream (Jeni's recipe, with baked rhubarb, fresh from the garden! MMMM), ricotta cheese (seriously. we made that.), and creme brulee (I've told myself for years I'm going to make that--bam).<br />
Sooo much fun, and I don't know if she's ever seen a kitchen that discombobulated. :)<br />
I already blogged on making butter, so you have a good idea how to do it, although I have since learned you need to let it set for a few minutes after blending before separating. <br />
I'll post later how to make Greek yogurt, but we can't overstimulate you by going into detail on everything, my dear readers. <br />
The ice cream, what can I say? It's Jeni's. It's only fault is that once you eat it it's gone.<br />
Every time I think about that ricotta cheese I get a little bit excited, too. Just take two quarts of milk, heat to 180 degrees, add 3 T vinegar and 1/2 t salt, let sit covered for 2 hours (the hardest part!), and little curds have magically formed. You can't see them underneath the whey until you dip your spoon in and scoop out the little treasures. Strain through a cheesecloth and you have seriously made what I fondly call ricottage cheese. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBe_6dTa__yWTRtif9JVpyOrOCGiR4KJkOVwI7thZF4b9nNQ5WHLwfH61OsH0g96Jlbh1ig9oOJPImiuTVWoR-90CnnTIuZY-_bWS2tQNZag2M9gTySICwHmZQhq_RtZrfX6TU0HCaw1s/s1600/IMG_0293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBe_6dTa__yWTRtif9JVpyOrOCGiR4KJkOVwI7thZF4b9nNQ5WHLwfH61OsH0g96Jlbh1ig9oOJPImiuTVWoR-90CnnTIuZY-_bWS2tQNZag2M9gTySICwHmZQhq_RtZrfX6TU0HCaw1s/s320/IMG_0293.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? (You can't really see. But still.) It's awesome!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The creme brulee, I tell you, it's given the "fancy dessert" status not because of it's difficulty in creating but because of it's extreme deliciousness. We registered for our wedding for a bakeware set that included ramekins simply due to their connection with potential creme brulee, and with only this one usage, they're essentially worth it. Plus I got to use a flame torch (see I don't even know what to actually call it but that just sounds so cool) to toast the brown sugar topping.<br />
We did all this while also making pizza and staying tuned to the tornado happenings in our non-immediate proximity. And then we ate ice cream and watched TinTin after playing the Bean Game. What more could you ask for??Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-67446875822296516902012-04-05T10:26:00.000-05:002012-04-05T10:26:04.964-05:00So It's About Time......both for me to actually post and for me to introduce you to our new Kansan home!<br />
These past few weeks since the last time I blogged, I've been thinking of a slew of things about which I want to blog. I start formulating them in my mind, putting these pictures here and these thoughts here, and then they simply fail to materialize.<br />
Before I began this blog, I wanted to make sure that my focus on simple living would articulate itself not only in the blogged activities/thoughts but also in the way I blog. This is supposed to be simple, as in, not becoming this addictive or overwhelming thing that I dedicate too much time to or spend to much time focusing on when I should be enjoying other aspects of my life. I put the idea of not posting too often in my foundational guidelines for my blog--so far, I've fulfilled that above and beyond. :)<br />
That said, I haven't fallen off my blogging inspiration yet, and hopefully will post some of my adventures in the not-so-distant future. To start off, however, let's take a quick look at our house.<br />
We are renting it from Brian's grandpa, and we could not ask for better. Besides being quite ample in size, especially for two people that came from a teensy apartment, our red-brick abode is only a dirt-road mile and a half from the farm and a mile from my job. Brian's grandma loved flowers, and so I get to benefit from her labor and enjoy the flowers all around the house and the perimeter of the yard (although from the look of those weeds I am going to have the opportunity to input a frighteningly decent share of my own labor as well :) ). In the back, there's a clothesline and a brick planter where my fresh herbs and salad greens will go, and then even two volunteer peach trees! I will attach pictures of the outside later, since I haven't actually taken any yet and this week has had surprisingly close to Ohio weather--overcast and drizzly. Perfect for hot tea :)<br />
As far as the inside goes, once again, very nice. Brian and I officially own one piece of furniture: a lampstand made just for us by an elderly man from my Ohio church. Thankfully, the family was gracious enough to leave our house furnished, and so we can actually sleep in a bed, sit on chairs, eat around a table, and such. :) Here are just a few selective pictures to give you a glimpse of what it looks like for us.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">It started out like this... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDnp_ZznykMd-fxwUz7l9NPkamhTzDr94mC96uh5egIqzLvQCgBumkgp-wZcQzRbUbzzQwYZVfWsv3z6lApSvjzoVJ8kqCDC5X249_5X7WtSP7MQ2VAfe9bqzMB4B5IdHBBM3s7Wqihj-/s1600/IMG_0214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDnp_ZznykMd-fxwUz7l9NPkamhTzDr94mC96uh5egIqzLvQCgBumkgp-wZcQzRbUbzzQwYZVfWsv3z6lApSvjzoVJ8kqCDC5X249_5X7WtSP7MQ2VAfe9bqzMB4B5IdHBBM3s7Wqihj-/s320/IMG_0214.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHva8esyVSwuLhL9ooAdvEUnplkbPEpU1p3UUtgSajzNZa7a9xPcx12ffpes8RaerijmYc1jhq8aVyGE0HPLEmYIUGBXsv9FqrhjXljR9pjOHP_D5Qa1Glhj__KnOvKy7Ant2XJzL4D9p/s1600/IMG_0263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHva8esyVSwuLhL9ooAdvEUnplkbPEpU1p3UUtgSajzNZa7a9xPcx12ffpes8RaerijmYc1jhq8aVyGE0HPLEmYIUGBXsv9FqrhjXljR9pjOHP_D5Qa1Glhj__KnOvKy7Ant2XJzL4D9p/s320/IMG_0263.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And with a little TLC got to this. Pardon the jars all over the drying rack and table--just another project in process. :)</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTKkNzApB8tA96EjKGkKJn_PRElDJu8Sb7cW9yWFrvI0YwLnb_603KukmtbaKDY1xIUUatX018cI-wz5v7uULtm_eDcSVxeUFXyRUdTrXRqGitNWzbUQmS6m3tTV21q7F6FLnF-_Hk8XHs/s1600/IMG_0267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTKkNzApB8tA96EjKGkKJn_PRElDJu8Sb7cW9yWFrvI0YwLnb_603KukmtbaKDY1xIUUatX018cI-wz5v7uULtm_eDcSVxeUFXyRUdTrXRqGitNWzbUQmS6m3tTV21q7F6FLnF-_Hk8XHs/s320/IMG_0267.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our bedroom, complete with blankets over the windows because I will wake up with the sunrise otherwise. :)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I spent several days unpacking and rearranging. Several very necessary days.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah, one of the most important spots in our house--the game cabinet. For being married only six months, we have a pretty good supply...</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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So, there you have it. Although I do suggest that a much better way to see where we live is to actually see where we live...there are two more bedrooms in the basement, and I'm not above bribing you with fresh butter, farm-raised brown eggs, and surplus chocolate, not to mention our fantastic hosting skills...:)Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-28914544921704344492012-03-07T21:46:00.000-06:002012-03-07T21:46:49.188-06:00GREEN!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So Aldi had avocados on sale last week, right? On sale, meaning, the earth's core almost went up a degree because of the mind-blowing phenomenon at hand: 19 cents each. For avocados, those phantasmagorically and quintessentially delectable morsel of green goodness. When my mother alerted me to the existence of this noteworthy event, I did what any logical and self-respecting person would do.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyXQ8qBJ2dBAleOV9jEP4uxqQalw1kNk9gUpnze6DvNh13zxpuCPEHITnyD-mqgNe13lvu7sck6R9j1wDq5UojE6jq-ts_hVz4Pabv9J4mBCEp-JRdG8QbMVVEej6E1tD7pE2_6piSu8d/s1600/IMG_0246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyXQ8qBJ2dBAleOV9jEP4uxqQalw1kNk9gUpnze6DvNh13zxpuCPEHITnyD-mqgNe13lvu7sck6R9j1wDq5UojE6jq-ts_hVz4Pabv9J4mBCEp-JRdG8QbMVVEej6E1tD7pE2_6piSu8d/s320/IMG_0246.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I bought 34. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For less than $6.50, I didn't feel so guilty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We ate them all in five days! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just kidding. I realized imbibing that many avocados before they would go bad (essentially by myself since the silly husband still doesn't recognize their value) was virtually beyond the realm of possibility for even such a talented consumer as myself. I looked online, and in addition to learning how to grow my own avocado houseplant from the pits, I learned that freezing was in fact a viable option. And what better activity after my first day of work at Glenn's Bulk Food Store (yaaay for a job!) than blending up a box of avocados? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">See? Isn't it beautiful?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZcAalNinwmHTclCqKTsNJ2JulPaEXcE-6v3I4eyrKFx9nFAyoMR-bJDz1rVZs-yeKUTUoiDTEd2DWYLMINzScguNqDdNnN4e47_aPmDvBZBs_CXivqVNXF21szk4WMV-90jm8aIAzH86/s1600/IMG_0250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZcAalNinwmHTclCqKTsNJ2JulPaEXcE-6v3I4eyrKFx9nFAyoMR-bJDz1rVZs-yeKUTUoiDTEd2DWYLMINzScguNqDdNnN4e47_aPmDvBZBs_CXivqVNXF21szk4WMV-90jm8aIAzH86/s320/IMG_0250.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This, however, is even more beautiful...especially times four.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUP9W_G8Wb3a361a7QVMSHKTTMa-iLC5wmI5amAHct4LJppDA8Dn1zzjaw-8-Vsbq2AJYZAHwX17Sq7kjcGugwkvQrndtvy1teu5pdqUbjrKo5dPaRWvv1SJR3wIqQ-XwTFDdpThGHjPEL/s1600/IMG_0251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUP9W_G8Wb3a361a7QVMSHKTTMa-iLC5wmI5amAHct4LJppDA8Dn1zzjaw-8-Vsbq2AJYZAHwX17Sq7kjcGugwkvQrndtvy1teu5pdqUbjrKo5dPaRWvv1SJR3wIqQ-XwTFDdpThGHjPEL/s320/IMG_0251.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The official California avocado website laid forth the only approved method of freezing as pureeing with a ratio of 1 T of lemon/lime juice per avocado, to effectively halt the spread of browning. After scooping six avocados into the blender, I decided 6 T was way too much lemon juice, so I opted for a gentle 1/4 C. Thankfully, I had three more blenders of avocados to go, because all I could taste was green creamy lemon. The next batch I tried just salt (and water to aid in the blending process), then 1/2 and 1/2 salt and lemon juice, then nothing at all (except water again). I can't help but experiment. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I ended up with a delightful slew of bright green paste in subtly varying flavors, to the extent that I was raiding my cupboards for any appropriate sized sort of freezing container. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Eventually I decided ice cube trays were my best bet for the remnants--perfect for smoothies! Seriously, avocado smoothies are my fav. Just blend an avocado with milk, ice, and sugar (or just ice cream and milk), and drink up the green goodness!!! Mmmm. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with this treasure trove...but I'm not too worried about it. A fantastic sandwich spread I discovered: smashed avocado, salt, lime juice, chili powder, hot pepper, plain yogurt. Simple, but fantastic on toast with some thin tomato slices or white cheese.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Brian's going to have to learn to like avocados. Although, I guess if he doesn't, that just leaves more for me. Not that I'm really running out at this point.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivo3D6ABgKapHpslWIRnmXzThpSXIilGQ7Oi_FSGYPfjOKj4meDyc_Y3h3dhx0WqsMvr_xv-jEbhKHusfDtODDX8P4ZO0JHIAIcxCLoUmMgTZRsL66yu_9hkBpaySejVdG70B955UqIa8o/s1600/IMG_0252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivo3D6ABgKapHpslWIRnmXzThpSXIilGQ7Oi_FSGYPfjOKj4meDyc_Y3h3dhx0WqsMvr_xv-jEbhKHusfDtODDX8P4ZO0JHIAIcxCLoUmMgTZRsL66yu_9hkBpaySejVdG70B955UqIa8o/s320/IMG_0252.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYTreTxvmFLNDq2BU1lQMVljtS4lzqSGPROmpXetQp4XK3y4Owm24aTPa3hycvikZtCU5JdXjjdXb1uHAKj32EvmH9MV5xN11R6sKdi4gX5_gcyVZH0tQ04YpvIsrCzNjaZ5OKsGP3q6VT/s1600/IMG_0253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYTreTxvmFLNDq2BU1lQMVljtS4lzqSGPROmpXetQp4XK3y4Owm24aTPa3hycvikZtCU5JdXjjdXb1uHAKj32EvmH9MV5xN11R6sKdi4gX5_gcyVZH0tQ04YpvIsrCzNjaZ5OKsGP3q6VT/s320/IMG_0253.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPaYkUh89LkdXmFE2tlT0usg5Aow3LjhU4bbvUjGtO-J94Cb6VG4n3owhlAutS5DprICPc1dvD20RAtDbwMoz4ppt1fQ7Lsa7AId95iALdDIpF8fyNo8c5JT3ygUyXVm-xPp_Ud4SzJBv/s1600/IMG_0254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPaYkUh89LkdXmFE2tlT0usg5Aow3LjhU4bbvUjGtO-J94Cb6VG4n3owhlAutS5DprICPc1dvD20RAtDbwMoz4ppt1fQ7Lsa7AId95iALdDIpF8fyNo8c5JT3ygUyXVm-xPp_Ud4SzJBv/s320/IMG_0254.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-334495354035251512012-03-05T22:06:00.001-06:002012-03-05T22:07:29.179-06:00I Can't Believe It's Butter!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Really, it still fascinates me. Who knew you could actually make butter?? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I did, and I've done it before, but this is different. It's from cows a mile and a half down the road, and it comes over in gallon glass jars.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Plus, due to self-inflicted mandates, it's our only source of butter from now on. Hypothetically. I have ideals, including self-sustanence in many different realms--one of them the realm of butter :) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Butter was one of the first dairy products I intended to tackle mastery of in my new home. I approached my first experiment with dubious excitement. Thankfully, Dr. Seuss and my time-proven Mr. Blender gave me confidence.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDL5bOxXz5cZVKjgrXNu7jbdmrsmWVTyvN5jt4QTa25S23XnlA3mDkK-Bh8MZMNE5f1-LLuECeGkT9ibC2GmhufwXCYHhAq-wirxVC8X24aXlbK20lx4d4no5k_zeVJFFR0XynmU1IyUk/s1600/IMG_0226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDL5bOxXz5cZVKjgrXNu7jbdmrsmWVTyvN5jt4QTa25S23XnlA3mDkK-Bh8MZMNE5f1-LLuECeGkT9ibC2GmhufwXCYHhAq-wirxVC8X24aXlbK20lx4d4no5k_zeVJFFR0XynmU1IyUk/s320/IMG_0226.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They let me down. The only things I produced were failure and some nasty chunky-watery liquid. Great, the easiest thing on my list, and I was already struggling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh well. It's not like I'm going to run out of milk anytime soon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So with our next gallon of milk came my next attempt, bolstered by actual advice and step-by-step instructions instead of making it up from what I remembered in passing conversations. AND, since I did succeed this time, I'm going to tell you how it works. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After ladling the cream off the top of "rested" milk (a couple hours should be enough to get the cream and milk to separate), let it sit on the counter until room temperature. Longer than the 20 minutes I gave it my first shot; I've been leaving it for 4-6 hours. Dump it in the blender, and turn that puppy on.</div><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVcdM4xqyReR8bpTbdRoobqq1MZdFxXWBq9VllEziFkEp6QkYnMevsR_6w_WKFH5TyTFLzsNszqeOgZnA1soj9Id97Hlv06pnf5ELwUnpIV_ddafRzxw7fUFJfDcJvHYp_0fRc_89sOlH/s1600/IMG_0227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVcdM4xqyReR8bpTbdRoobqq1MZdFxXWBq9VllEziFkEp6QkYnMevsR_6w_WKFH5TyTFLzsNszqeOgZnA1soj9Id97Hlv06pnf5ELwUnpIV_ddafRzxw7fUFJfDcJvHYp_0fRc_89sOlH/s320/IMG_0227.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It never got to that instantaneous transformation from cream to butter that I was looking for, but after a couple minutes the butter should start to collect at the surface. One blog I was checking out said to then pour it all through a strainer:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjk1SmHuDYcXH2X1TF-ezQD_xlLQ_7hi896j8oFsnDVCiHcPy9G9woYYFk-g9utZ3IRNTMkiIXyuCZXXnqKXZ9loDG9-KSJzZP9Xaq1TB_3ZqG_gOjtkbQCJtAQQ9hZHAKCg5qh-6WfaVO/s1600/IMG_0228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjk1SmHuDYcXH2X1TF-ezQD_xlLQ_7hi896j8oFsnDVCiHcPy9G9woYYFk-g9utZ3IRNTMkiIXyuCZXXnqKXZ9loDG9-KSJzZP9Xaq1TB_3ZqG_gOjtkbQCJtAQQ9hZHAKCg5qh-6WfaVO/s320/IMG_0228.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My strainer is very fine-mesh, intended for chai (not that I ever make that stuff), and all the butter did was conglomerate everywhere. I decided that was theretofore an unnecessary step, and today I just scooped the butter off the buttermilk and put it in a glass container. I smushed it around for a while (but definitely not playing with it), tipping out the rivulets of buttermilk as they escaped the butter. Towards the end I just captured the butter with my spatula and poured out the unwanteds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3ClSfYxtly-5tHF-PO1XtdwLE73Etzbsai7DUscmiKx54j6mT6_v-anryZC2pgoiyCaJSc8gkOM0o6xJjNaFkjieDA2-Kh-0qEwidmTIEp8up_JAitRmx88J1RxSijVMaG8WLvOidqsH/s1600/IMG_0244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3ClSfYxtly-5tHF-PO1XtdwLE73Etzbsai7DUscmiKx54j6mT6_v-anryZC2pgoiyCaJSc8gkOM0o6xJjNaFkjieDA2-Kh-0qEwidmTIEp8up_JAitRmx88J1RxSijVMaG8WLvOidqsH/s320/IMG_0244.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At this point I stirred in some salt (I would tell you the amount but it's hard to show you on the surface area of my palm, so I have absolutely no idea), and whoopdedoo, I gots butter! It even turned a gentle shade of yellow this time, which gives me some internal level of accreditation. I got about 1/2 cup of butter with 2 1/2 cups of leftover liquid--I'll tell you later about my experiment with that stuff...so not a fantastic ratio, but so worth it.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_V2u4LOz-Si-vX6KVkgWv8wn4VqwD3eCs_bIZHBY5OjmJFDcNDWToZXSjRm8o2xvyrs0oVr4texwDZhAgG79VUjAza-8iN4qfpB7FBHczDBSGBEMeoKHyXMrYAB5u1CM1LpooEc-eOBdj/s1600/IMG_0245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_V2u4LOz-Si-vX6KVkgWv8wn4VqwD3eCs_bIZHBY5OjmJFDcNDWToZXSjRm8o2xvyrs0oVr4texwDZhAgG79VUjAza-8iN4qfpB7FBHczDBSGBEMeoKHyXMrYAB5u1CM1LpooEc-eOBdj/s320/IMG_0245.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">BUTTER!!!</div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887591841678029901.post-48443600846130783272012-03-03T16:50:00.000-06:002012-03-03T16:50:54.458-06:00My IdeaSo, here's my thought. I have no idea how to make a blog interesting, if I'll have the initiative to keep it updated, or who is going to be bored enough to read it. :) But--I know I love to write, take pictures, cook, try new things, stay connected with my friends, try to treat the environment like it's God's (since it is), and glorify Him with my life. <br />
<div>And what is the perfect synergism of all of the above?? Probably not a blog. But it seems worth a shot anyway. :) </div><div>What's the goal of my entering the world of periodic cyber updates? I'm not sure I've formally articulated that even in my subliminal mental processing, but without taking the time that would more adequately help me convey my thoughts, I just want to jump into the life God has given me with joy and enthusiasm, and be able to share some of my experiences. At times I'm almost giddy with the discoveries of living more simply and utilizing my environment in a way that echoes some of the community I feel God desires us to pursue. That said, I find myself continually wondering what on Earth (literally) that is supposed to look like, both in general and in my specific day-to-day life. I'll share sometime <i>why</i> I think it's important to live in simplicity and environmental awareness.</div><div>Heads up, I don't have the answers. :) </div><div>But I am enjoying looking. I recently encountered a (what at least feels like) drastic change in my location and lifestyle in my husband's and my move from Ohio to Kansas. True, without imparting any positive or negative value, I can point out that both places are flat, windy, and full of fields. Thank goodness for some continuity. In the week and three days since we've been here, I've been enjoying a lot of blessings, such as a house approximately 5 (?) times larger than our previous (not including the basement) (meaning, our apartment was a bit on the small side), an extremely welcoming church and local community, and a sun that shines almost every day. Not to mention Brian's family is right down the dirt road, we actually have space to utilize wedding gifts now, and more job offers than I anticipated. Kansans really are great--<i>everyone</i> waves at you, you can have an in-depth conversation with any random person about farming, and apparently they think liverwurst is a good thing. What's not to love? :) But seriously, though it's going to take a while to make this my home, with the grace of God <i>I will.</i> And in the process, I'd love to share some of the endeavors and stories that currently entertain me. </div><div>Also, I'll ramble from time to time. Just so you're aware of that.</div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13341772839892241956noreply@blogger.com1