The Mama Roo Swing

This is the way-cool baby swing I told you about. (I'm hoping this YouTube video embeds properly!) This is Jeremiah Bailey's swing - called "The Mama Roo Swing". It can play your music from your ipod, and the movement of this swing is amazing...specially designed to soothe babies.

My, how times have changed.

24 years ago when my twin girls were born, it was a big advance to have one of the first battery powered infant swings. And I did have one. One. It was purchased gently used and given to me, a gift from our then-pastor's wife Sandi Fatow. The other was also a gift, a wind-up model. Those two little swings sat, side by side, in our tiny living room, for months. I used them every single day, as you could well imagine....two babies, with no one available to help consistently. Those swings were my lifeline.

Three cheers for technology! Here's hoping this sweet, amazing swing will give Jeremiah hours of entertainment and great napping...all while NOT playing those annoying, mechanized, computerized baby ditties.

The Preacher's Wife Makes Mac N' Cheese

First, you pop your tiny net book on the counter, because it is so much smaller than your laptop...

...and so that you can (not) follow the recipe you have chosen.

Because you realize that you don't have the entire amount of cream cheese this recipe calls for, and this recipe does not include Asiago (which you love), and you want to use heavy cream instead of milk, and you are thinking that white pepper will be better than regular ol' black pepper.

Next step: Toss recipe, and start cooking this stuff your way.


peel the wax from your Gouda cheese...("eatin' Gouda cheese, eatin' Gouda cheese, goodness how delicious, eatin' Gouda cheese!" ...nevermind...you never heard of the "Goober Peas" song, have you?)


grate about this much. (okay, okay...about 1/2 to 3/4 of a cup)




Get out your Asiago...ooooh, baby. Then, grate about this much:


Okay, okay - about 1/2 a cup! Gosh, you are demanding. I can't believe you actually want correct amounts.

Next, get out your husband's stash of Cracker Barrel cheddar, and use it. Because you love him, and you are very concerned for his health. He shouldn't be eating all that cheese by himself.




Grate nearly all his cheddar. But do save him a tiny bite.

Then again...


Nah. Sorry honey. You really shouldn't eat too much cheese.



Then, because you are a Goober-Blogger-Geek, you gather all your ingredients together. For the money shot. Yeah. Then, realize you forgot to include the white pepper. No matter, you'll slip it in a photo, later on.



Next, melt your cream cheese (only 4 ounces) and Asiago and Gouda cheeses in 2 cups of cream. Okay, a cup and a half of cream, and a half cup of skim. Feel better?



Then, melt your cheddar.



Add about 1/4 tsp. white pepper. (I promise, that is white pepper.) Then, salt generously, using coarse salt. I'm sorry, I wish I could be more precise. I grab a palm of salt, and then I take pinches out of my palm. Just taste as you salt. Remember - you can add salt, but you can't take it away.



Next, you realize you forgot to cut your cream cheese up into little bits before tossing it in the saucepan. So you find the lumps and try to smoosh them smooth, to speed up the melting process.

Just keepin' it real, people. Folks don't trust me for no good reason. Um. Meaning they DO trust me for very good reason. Ohlord...am I making sense?



Pour creamy awesomeness over your undercooked noodles. Very Al' Dente noodles. Trust me. You got good reason to trust me (see picture above). I didn't take a picture of boiling noodles...I didn't want to insult your intelligence.

At this point, feel free to slip in your shameless husband-grandson plug:



And now, back to your regularly scheduled program.

Bake the creamy heavenly deliciousness for about a half an hour, at 350. Then, you will enjoy this:



Mmmmm.

You really should drop by for a little sustenance. We'll make room at the table for you.

My sweet, sweet grandson in a captured moment of limp bliss, after a busy day...

"Boys are found everywhere -- on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket."

Alan Marshall Beck

Swedish Style? French Country?

I'm in love with two seemingly unrelated styles. Which one to commit to? Which one is the better looking? Which one would make a worthy partner? Which one to wake up to each morning?

Lover's dilemma. I am truly torn between two aesthetics: French Country Farmhouse....and Swedish/Gustavian.

I used to like the whole rustic/lake house vibe. Then I had a brief fling with Arts and Crafts style...but both rustic and Craftsman = too much wood. Way too much wood. The older I get, the more I don't want lots of brown wood. I need ethereal, romantic, lovely light. I need light neutral wall surfaces and a few furniture pieces painted white.

Then I sort of enjoyed a cottage style - but that style can gravitate to cutesy, and I am a big believer in the axiom "cutesy kills". (Okay, so maybe no one else has said that besides me, but I swear it is true.) And the whole cottage vibe tends to be more cluttered than I'd like.

For a long time now - much longer than I've let on, I've been loving the two styles French Country, and Swedish.

So. Much like I would if I were the type to be in love with two men (which I'm definitely not...I am The Preacher's Wife heart and soul - there is no man on earth I respect and love more), if I were, I would examine the basic philosophy of each one, and try to determine which one resonates with me the most deeply.

Carl Larsson, of the Swedish style, declared himself an enemy of ”gaudy rubbish and tinseled knickknacks.” That sort of makes me hate my Easter/Resurrection tree, but hey...I'm deep in grandbaby mode. I am living this season of little ones to the hilt while it lasts...so get this: He also said, and I quote, "A home is not some lifeless object, but is alive and like all living things it must change from moment to moment.” Easter Tree stays. It will go away in May and come back out next March. My home is alive. I love it.

That is a design philosophy I want making my breakfast every morning. The Swedish design is so, so, so good looking. Lord knows, I gotta have good looking. Thank God for good looking.

(Image of the Swedish Style from Country Living) Mmmmm-mmmmmm-MMMMM. That clock, that nubbly worn table covering. I know. Nubbly is not a word in most people's vocabulary. It is my blog, so deal with it.

Since Swedish style leans more towards light colors, here is an even better example:

Oh. So good looking. The beat up doors and floors...the clock...the light walls...the leggy furniture...that chandelier. (Secret: I have one. Prettier than the one in this picture. It is waiting for Tim to wire it and place it in my dining room ceiling. God is good to His children. Amen.) I do love me some beat up floors and a fancy chandelier together.

Here is a French Country kitchen:

No granite - instead, the counters are wood. (Granite is so last decade, anyhow. At least one of the biggest design blogs out there says so. Instead, think quartz or marble or wood or limestone. I say wood.) Copper pots. Light colors, painted cabinets.

More French country:



The elements of French Country are time-worn, beautiful and functional. Think of light spaces. Of bringing the garden into the house. Of old furniture. Chipped paint. Texture. Layers of natural fabrics. The French value the handmade and the heirloom, so things rarely match, and, in fact, the look of a well-worn piece of furniture is the favored aesthetic.

I'm still torn. There are some similarities - the graceful curves, the leggy furniture pieces, the well-worn surfaces. But there are big differences. I'm not wild about all the stenciling found in rustic Swedish/Gustavian style, nor am I crazy about the gilded, too colorful nature of some French country.

I am going to try to combine the best qualities of both design suitors, and live with both.

Both, I say. I shan't choose. You can't make me. So there is no name for this new style I am forging. So what. No one has ever been able to label me or my style under any particular category. I'm your generic Sanguine/Choleric/Melancholy, with the Presbymatic theology, the self disciplined hedonist with the Gustavian-French thing going on in her house. Sort of "east meets west", Mother Teresa gives birth to Raquel Welch.

Works for me. Who wants to hire me to design their interior?

Resurrection Sunday Decorating

A handmade clay candle holder that I get out each season around Lent. It is four sided, depicting the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, the Pieta, and the Resurrection...





Here it is in its context, with the whole Spring/Resurrection vignette...



The table...

I don't iron my tablecloths...ahem.

The beginnings of a place setting...no silverware, glasses, or napkins yet, but you have to loooove the plates!

The four candles, representing the four Sundays between now and Resurrection Sunday...

Here is yours truly working on the shot with the antique dresser draped in forsythia, and my blue candlesticks and huge pasta plate - I love the color, and use it to bring some spring into the dining room.

Lastly, I thought I'd show you the finished snood I knitted recently. Today is probably the last day - until next October - that the weather will be cool enough for me to wear it...

My youngest son is giving me no end of grief over the yellow T-shirt and the pink cowl. He's embarrassed that his home schooling mother doesn't match. I told him "matching is for amateurs."

Also, if you can see them, those are the bifocal readers I was excited about a couple of weeks ago. I pretty much wear them every day. Get lots of compliments on them...people say I look like Sarah Palin in them.

::perky sniff::

Underlined Bits by Steve Crosby

I AM...
TOLERANT.

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
LACKING CONVICTION

I AM...
FRUGAL

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
STINGY

I AM...
HONEST

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
INSENSITIVE


I AM...
SENSITIVE

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
LACKING COURAGE

I AM...
FORGETFUL

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
INSINCERE
I AM...
HONESTLY MISTAKEN

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
DECEIVED

I AM...
EASY GOING

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
LAZY

I AM...
PRINCIPLED

THE "OTHER GUY" IS...
RELIGIOUS

1.The essence of all religion, including Christian religion, is to excuse ourselves and accuse others.

2.Without the resurrection power of the new creation at work in our lives, every virtue will eventually become a vice. The essence of the manifested life of Christ is not the acquisition of moral virtues. Fundamentalist moralism of all sorts is a counterfeit gospel.

3.Only the Holy Spirit, in and through us, can effectively administer the right grace, for the right need, in the right way, at the right time, for the right person, for the right reason. Virtue exercised outside of His administration, is no virtue at all.

Marvel not that you all must be born again – John 3:7
Be constantly being filled with the Spirit – Ephesians 5:18

How To Spot a Whack Job - Edited

About a week or so ago, I posted a piece entitled "How to Spot a Whack Job", based on a funny story a friend had told me.

So many blog posts, at least for me, are all about the mood of the moment - and that day I was in a goofy, happy-go-lucky attitude. Actually, I've been in that attitude a lot lately. What can I say? Spring fever, fer realllll.

As is my habit, I told the back story, that builds up to the punch line. Being all about the back story, and all. And stuff. And maybe I should tell you what I ate for breakfast today, so that you can put this post in better context?

Anyhow, some anonymous someone commented to tell me I am an evil gossip. No joke. Exact words...well, they said that what I said was gossip, and not just fleshly, it was evil, and Mr. or Mrs. Anonymous found me to be very disappointing.

First, I published the comment, though I don't have to. It didn't bother me. Doing the wrong thing bothers me, but I'm not bothered by what other people say, especially anonymously. Then, later in the day, after some consideration, I decided that, in spite of the fact that anonymous comments shouldn't be made in the first place, Mr. or Mrs. Anonymous has a point. That post, though when considered in its full context wasn't gossip at all, could seem like Evil Gossip, now that I look at it through their eyes, and not through my happy-go-lucky mood du jour.

I was born wrong, and will be wrong again, probably later today. And doing the wrong thing bothers me. So instead of just deleting the whole thing, as I could easily do, with the click of a button, I'd rather own it, and own up to it. Take full responsibility. Grace enables me to do that rather easily. I'm that rich, in Christ Jesus.

So. Humble apologies for the oversharing. I will try harder in the future to see my posts through eyes other than just my own. Not everybody has my rather odd sense of humor. Lucky them. You should see what it is like inside my head!

At lease I don't look like I'm about to sneeze.

So, take out the back story (which was very vague, not at all specific), and here is what you are left with:

Someone gave me a word of advice. They told me, "Crazy people always look like they are about to sneeze." The more I thought about it, the more hilariously true the maxim became.

Think about it. The arched eyebrow? The overly-bright facial expression? The frozen features? The smile? The not-quite-normal tone of voice?

See for yourself if it isn't true.

And to further emphasize that this post is meant to be a simple apology, and not a bid for the inevitable comments in my defense, I am closing the comments, just and only for this particular post. Thanks to those who'd want to defend and encourage me, but I'd rather let it be what it is.

Disclaimer: The picture at the top isn't to make fun of anyone taking Prozac. I would take it, if I ever needed it. The picture represents the bright-and-frozen face that might be depicted by someone about to sneeze. Okay? Are we good? Oh please don't call me evil.

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