"Sprizzard!"

Sprizzards are annual events here in Brrrrrrr Lake.  They're usually spliced somewhere between the first day of Spring and the time we plant gardens.  Today's sprizzard was particularly dramatic because rumor has it that we're to expect 10-12 inches of snow and 60 mph winds!  A real doozy of a sprizzard!!!!  I am currently the reigning "Farmhand" here at Provident Heritage Farm.  Paco is off wrestling Minnesota for a spell.  I HAD to feed the alpacas--no other humane choice was left to me.  They need and deserve to eat. I bundled up like an astronaut, contemplated stringing a rope from the house to the barn ala Little House on the Prairie, and headed out.  If I leaned into it I could remain upright.  The animals were hunkered down in their respective quarters.  Plato spit at me, but I'm choosing to interpret it as "Thanks, oh thanks a bunch!  Really thanks!"  Midway between hand hauling the hay around the barn to deliver to the girls, I thought to myself, "If you were to go down out here--break something, trip, infarc randomly--no one would even miss you until the bell rings tomorrow morning at 8!"  A heck of a lot of frostbite, hypothermia, and DEATH could take place before then!!!!  At one point I came upon a wheelbarrow that I thought might help me move the hay.  After stopping every 2 feet to kick off the accumulated snow from the wheel (yes it was THAT deep), I scooped up the half bale and pushed into the wind.   When I came inside I was completely crusted over with ice and snow--encased as it were.  My cowl (thank you dear daughter) stood up by itself in the bathtub!!  Hoping for a snow day out of this, but if not that, then bragging rights--"I Survived the April 9, 2013 Sprizzard!"  Incidentally Spring + Blizzard = Sprizzard.  I know you figured that out, but just in case.  I composed that word special for this blog.  I've never heard it or read it or even thought it until just now.  Bling? 

Saints Alive!

Twice a year 21,000 members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gather in this phenomenol building across from Temple Square in Salt Lake City,and in five different two hour meetings listen to speeches of instruction and faith from leaders whom we all sustain as prophets, apostles, and great leaders.  Paco and I just returned from attending.  The conferences look and sound similar time after time with a few variations.  Sometimes the news announced makes the whole audience go, "Wow...ahhh...ohhh..."  One time I was present here when President Hinkley playfully hit Elder Eyring with his cane in a comradrec way, and the place broke out in laughter sort of bordering on jolly.  We sit way way up in the rafters for the most part, but a couple of times we've been very up close and personal.  For most of the 120 conferences that I've been alive for, I've watched it on TV with family or friends.  The thrill of being there for me is singing with 20,999 other people.  It's grand beyond description for me.  This year's conference was short on the over-zealous Bible thumpers who usually station themselves along the sidewalks and try to hurl insults.  They must be tiring of coming. I wouldn't imagine they're targeting the right audience. A row of teenagers was sitting in front of us.  One of the boys was stretched across someone else, and the girl of the group was writing all over his arm.  Paco leaned up and said something like, "Did you come to listen or to play?"  The girl next to Paco was texting off and on.  REALLY PEOPLE????  REALLY????

I miss attending conference in the original tabernacle.  Those were the days when you had to arrive early early to stand in line.  The place filled up fast!  I remember my BYU days fondly--singing outside in the dark in a huddled crowd of strangers waiting for the hours to pass--making new friends. A couple of boyfriends took me there.  I remember one of them sleeping through the entire session.

My father told the story of running down this very aisle when he was around 5.  His uncle was on the general Sunday School board and had taken him (my father was left fatherless at around 3, so lots of extended relatives raised him).  The charming part of the story is that President Heber J. Grant stopped him and reprimanded him.  Less formality in those days.  Nowadays not too many prophets ever end up in the aisles like that.

 

 

Milk and Cookies

 

Subject:  Biology Exam- Priceless, 'Name seven advantages of Mother's Milk.' The question was worth 70 points or none at all.

One student, in particular, was hard put to think of seven advantages. However, he wrote:

1) It is perfect formula for the child.
2) It provides immunity against several diseases.
3) It is always the right temperature.
4) It is inexpensive.
5) It bonds the child to mother, and vice versa.
6) It is always available as needed.

And then the student was stuck. Finally, in desperation, just before the bell rang indicating the end of the test, he wrote:

7) It comes in two attractive containers and it's high enough off the ground where the cat can't get it.

He got an A.

 

 

 

Yes, those ARE cookie crumbs you see on my face.  Yes, I AM eating Girl Scout cookies.  Yes, they ARE Samoas--the best of GS cookies.  Yes, it is only 6:06 A.M., and I am feeling a little woozy.  No, I am NOT sugar free anymore.  Yes, I DID enjoy 4 Cadbury caramel eggs yesterday.  Yes, I AM looking forward to brown licorice today.  Yes, I WILL return to sugarfree soon--deep down inside I know I should.  No, I am not the self-discipline maven I was a mere 48 hours ago.  Yes, I feel a bit diminished. 

 

• it's pouring outside!  So very April!!
• Paco is heading out today for a 40 year missionary (French Swiss) reunion.  I'm putting my money on him as "best preserved"!
• I'm campaigning to teach 5th grade next year--that's been on my mind since my OWN year in 5th grade and appears on my Lifelist.
• I'm knitting something tubular, very bright, and that goes around your neck!
• I have 4 more books to read before I reach my 60!
• Another ginormous box of herbs arrived...du du du...
• We're off to General Conference!

 

"Sh Sh Sh Sh Sh Sh Sugartown"

I gave up sugar 60 days ago today.  More specifically (because I know sugar is hiding in everything), I wiped out candy, cookies, cake, pie, ice cream, and soda.  Results?  Hmmmm....I don't have any to report, other than the rush that self control brings.  One disclaimer:  I DID eat one lone macaroon made lovingly by Paco for me in MD last week because he knows I will cross vast deserts on my knees for a macaroon AND he used the last of the coconut to just make a few.  How could I turn away from that kind of devotion?  So on this morning of re-entry I wish I could say going off sugar was life-changing.  It wasn't.  I don't feel any differently.  The only masjor difference I've experienced is that I don't have blood sugar spikes, or in other words, cravings or extreme hunger. Maybe other more visible results would come tomorrow or the next day.  Maybe 61 days is the magic place. Perhaps THEN my body would arise Phoenix-like and to the swelling of the "Hallelujah Chorus", I would awaken with the body of a 20 year old!  My teeth would glisten!  I would recall poetry memorized in 4th grade!  I guess I'll never know because I've squirreled away Samoas and Cadbury (did you know that you can purchase Cadbury chocolate in vending machines on the tube platforms in London????  It's a BEAUTIFUL thing...) caramel eggs for this day.  Part of me wants to soldier on sugarless and just have faith that I'm doing my body a big huge physiological favor.  Part, not so much. But, I will cross it off my "Pushin' 60" list

Soul Food--Brazilian Style!

 

I'm posting my best recipe today!  It originated with a friend from our first "tour of duty" in NJ, Rene Brage, a bona fide Brazilian himself.  It was his standard missionary meal.  I've served this with unfailing rave reviews to all manner of guests and taken it along on camping trips as well.  When my youngest son, Thomas, returned from missionary work in Brazil we made a bee-line for a Brazilian restaurant in Manhattan and ordered this.  Similar, so I know it's pretty legit.  My only advice is to make a VAT of this.  Don't question why.  Official name?  Here it is phonetically--fezsh wada com plet a. Oh, and you might want to make the veggie topping in your bathtub because you'll want to serve it over everything from oatmeal to ice cream from now on.

 

 

 

Brazilian Black Beans and Rice

 

Wash and soak a bag of black beans overnight.  I cook mine in the pressure cooker for about 45 minutes and then throw them into the crockpot with the meat (bratwurst, porkloin, pork ribs, pork chops, Italian sausage etc.).  Brown the meat and add to the beans.  Chop up an onion and some garlic in there too.  Cook until the beans are cooked and the mixture is kind of thick like chili.  Six hours or so should make them irresistible.  Cook rice.  Vegetable topping:  Chop up any array of fresh vegetables (tomatoes, carrots, celery, cucumber, little green onions, fresh garlic, zukes, radishes etc.).  Add a glug of olive oil, lemon juice, and vinegar and spices (salt, pepper, your favorites etc.).  You can allow that to marinate if you have time.  Not essential.  Keep that mixture kind of soupy because the more liquid that soaks down into the beans and rice the better.  Just before you serve the bean mixture saute some fresh chopped garlic (2 or 3 cloves) in olive oil (maybe 4 T.) and add it sizzling hot to the beans.  For some reason that makes it wonderful--especially if the garlic is kind of toasty.  Then serve rice topped with beans topped with veggies.  Enjoy.

This stock picture lacks the color that carrots, zukes, cucumbers and radishes would add to it.  The more crunch and color the better!

Hats Off!

Pausing to pay homage to a chapter in my life that I loved so dearly.  This is a picture from a job I had as a K-2 media specialist in Ewing, NJ at Antheil Elementary.  More particularly this picture was taken during the annual Literacy Festival--a school-wide night devoted to books and reading.  As one of the school's two media specialists it fell on me to co-contrive a theme, coordinate activities, and generally make merry!  I call your attention to the artwork on the glass over the entrance--Thomas did that!  What you really can't SEE are the over 200 hats that I borrowed to decorate the media center--hats of all varieties from all over the world because our school was very multi-cultural.  What you can't HEAR is my smashing rendition of The 500 Hats of Bartholemew Cubbins which I read about 6 times--complete with a headful of stacked hats and all the voices in that story.  Go read it!  It's a good one--early early Seuss.  Last of all I'm holding Momboo.  If you don't know HIS story, I really should share it.  I'll do a little digging so I can do justice to it. 

As part of my "Pushin' 60" campaign, I have been reading 60 children's books aloud--to my grandkids and 7th graders.  During my time in NJ I was paid handsomely to do that ALL day to the  most charming diminuatives...best job ever.  Really.  Hats Off to my memories of them, their fabulous teachers, their extraordinary parents, and the hours and hours and hours we spent together in some pretty magical places...

So If I'm NOT One of Those, What Am I?

I originally titled this post "Voyeur" which is a word I've used to describe myself quite frequently, unfortunately.  I paused to google image something to snazz up the post, and THAT is when we entered deep deep water.  Back away from the computer and DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT search that word!  Sheesh...Pushing 60 and no one ever corrected me????  Come on, people!  I've used the word to describe myself as someone who looks over the shoulder of one and all to see what they're reading.  I've also used that word to describe my innocent eavesdropping of strangers.  And no one has ever called me on it!!  Maybe that is innocence on your part as well.  We'll assume that.  Paco and I just returned from a jaunt to tweak cheeks in MD.  It was all very wonderful and mind-expanding and soul-searching--by-products of any good vacation--sites aside.  Back to my point.  Yesterday we were on an early morning short bus trip taking us and about 30 other United Airlines displace-ees (mechanical difficulties cancelled flights Sunday eve) from our night's lodgings  to Dulles.  Mind you this is pre-dawn when most people are slurring and shuffling--barely human.  I noted a young handsome family of 6 sitting directly in front of me.  But what really caught my attention (because I was fairly alert and had my busybody radar up) was the conversation the father was having with his ten-ish year old son.  I heard the words:  Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Tiberius.  Come again!!!  This father was explaining some eschatological concept?  Pre-dawn?  10 year old?  Bus?  So I "stalked" these folks through security and then lost them.  But what I did observe was phenomenal, and I pause to make note of it here:

• each child pulled their own carry on
• the 3-ish year old in the stroller calmly played with a hand-held electronic something or other
• the father engaged in pleasant conversation with several around him
• the mother passed hand signals to her husband and children which they immediately interpreted and obeyed
• no one whined
• the two brothers joked around a little, obviously delighted in each other
• the father joined in their laughter
• ALL were interested and engaged in the experience
• they had obviously done this before--pro's
• they seemed to glow

This may not be that unusual in your circles.  Maybe ALL the families you see run like Fortune 500 companies.  But I don't see it too often.  It delighted me--gave me some faith.

Then later in the day on yet another bus to long-term parking in Salt Lake I couldn't help but hear another conversation.  One woman was describing to another an encounter with the mother of what sounded to be the stepchild of the narrator.  The mother had shown up at a doctor's appointment for the child that morning dressed in short black shorts, a lime green tank top with hot pink underthings showing through large holes.  She had silver jewel-studded boots and was garishly make-upped as well.  The gist of the story involved negligent diabetes monitoring of the child on custodial weekends and huge denial on the part of the mother.  The stepmother telling the story was just beside herself. Furthermore, the clueless mother is now working for her attorney!  That doesn't sound good for the child, the father OR the stepmother!   Little human dramas all around us.

So if I zoom in on strangers' conversations, and follow people with my eyes, and know way too much about intimate details of lives I'll never cross again...what is that called????  And if you say "busybody" I'll never talk to you again.