Dessert meme

I'm not entirely comfortable with the outcome of this....


1) Copy this list into your site, including the instructions!
2) Bold all of the sweets you've eaten--or make them a different type color.
3) Cross out any of them that you'd never ever eat.
4) Consider anything that is not bold or crossed out your "To Do" List.
5) Optional: Post a comment here linking to your results--or just post a comment letting us know how many you've tried, or what you're going to try next!

I've also added a + for each thing I have baked (cooked, whatever...)

1. Red Velvet Cake
2. Princess Torte
3. Whoopie Pie
4. Apple Pie either topped or baked with sharp cheddar +
5. Beignet
6. Baklava
7. Black and white cookie
8. Seven Layer Bar (also known as the Magic Bar or Hello Dolly bars) +
9. Fried Fruit pie (sometimes called hand pies)
10. Kringle
11. Just-fried (still hot) doughnut
12. Scone with clotted cream
13. Betty, Grunt, Slump, Buckle or Pandowdy +
14. Halvah
15. Macarons +
16. Banana pudding with nilla wafers
17. Bubble tea (with tapioca "pearls")
18. Dixie Cup
19. Rice Krispie treats +
20. Alfajores
21. Blondies +
22. Croquembouche
23. Girl Scout cookies
24. Moon cake
25. Candy Apple
26. Baked Alaska
27. Brooklyn Egg Cream
28. Nanaimo bar
29. Baba au rhum
30. King Cake
31. Sachertorte
32. Pavlova
33. Tres Leches Cake
34. Trifle
35. Shoofly Pie
36. Key Lime Pie (made with real key lime)
37. Panna Cotta
38. New York Cheesecake +
39. Napoleon / mille-fueille
40. Russian Tea Cake / Mexican Wedding Cake
41. Anzac biscuits
42. Pizzelle
43. Kolache
44. Buckeyes
45. Malasadas
46. Moon Pie
47. Dutch baby
48. Boston Cream Pie
49. Homemade chocolate chip cookies +
50. Pralines +
51. Gooey butter cake
52. Rusks
53. Daifuku
54. Green tea cake or cookies
55. Cupcakes from a cupcake shop
56. Crème brûlée +
57. Some sort of deep fried fair food (twinkie, candy bar, cupcake)
58. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting +
59. Jelly Roll
60. Pop Tarts
61. Charlotte Russe
62. An "upside down" dessert (Pineapple upside down cake or Tarte Tatin) +
63. Hummingbird Cake
64. Jell-O from a mold
65. Black forest cake
66. Mock Apple Pie (Ritz Cracker Pie)
67. Kulfi
68. Linzer torte
69. Churro
70. Stollen
71. Angel Food Cake
72. Mincemeat pie
73. Concha
74. Opera Cake
75. Sfogliatelle / Lobster tail
76. Pain au chocolat
77. A piece of Gingerbread House
78. Cassata
79. Cannoli
80. Rainbow cookies
81. Religieuse
82. Petits fours
83. Chocolate Souffle
84. Bienenstich (Bee Sting Cake)
85. Rugelach
86. Hamenstashen
87. Homemade marshmallows
88. Rigo Janci
89. Pie or cake made with candy bar flavors (Snickers pie, Reeses pie, etc)
90. Divinity
91. Coke or Cola cake
92. Gateau Basque
93. S'mores +
94. Figgy Pudding
95. Bananas foster or other flaming dessert
96. Joe Froggers
97. Sables
98. Millionaire's Shortbread
99. Animal crackers
100. Basbousa

Today's cooking challenge:
I wanted to create something with the beets and sweet potatoes, because I thought it would be tasty and seasonal and also really, really spectacular-looking. I was thinking of something that interleaved slices of beet and potato - that would look great, right? And they would taste right together - kind of earthy? (I had this thought originally when I was pulling some roasted beets out of the oven, and of course they smell like delicious, juicy dirt. Which sweet potatoes kind of do to, right? Well, to me they do.

Anyway, I think I will do something like this, which I have made before to delicious results and for which I have all the vegetables, even yellow peppers already sliced! Go me! Maybe I'll take a picture.

EDITED TO ADD: Well, okay, no picture, and no new recipe. I "created" something with beets and sweet potatoes only to the extent that I added beets to a sweet potato recipe, and it was sufficiently foolproof to survive. Presenting it composed rather than tossed didn't add much pizazz either. Knife skills might have made a difference...anyway, tasted fine, looked fine, healthy, fine....I just wonder what would have really made it sing.

And then they all turned into fish and swam away.*

I just had a completely surreal experience.

As I mentioned, I've had a cold for a couple of days; last night, it migrated from head to chest. This, of course, FEELS like a huge relief, being so much more pleasant less vile than dizziness, drippy nose, itching on the insides of one's eyeballs. But it does mean I actually have to work on getting better. Chest colds, for me, do not always go away by themselves.

So I left work early and came home to sleep. Husband and son came home a while later - the timeline is rather fuzzy for this whole day - and darling Ian stood by my bedside, stroking my cheek gently and saying "Momma? Are you not feeling so well?" He and his friend Heather had made me a get-well card, tracing some plastic bugs with markers on a shirt cardboard. "We Hope Your Bug Goes Away."

(Hahaha! Bite that, Hallmark.)

So moved was I with tender affection (and so addled from a low-grade fever) that, when Husband tried to remove Child from my bedside, I must have stopped him. "Oh, no, honey," I must have said," I'll take him for a while. You go relax."

And then I fell asleep.

And then I woke up - was it 3 minutes later? A half-hour? Longer? I truly have no idea - I kind of blacked out.

And you know how occasionally, when you fall asleep in the daytime, you wake up not knowing...anything? What day it is, or what part of the day, or why you're in this room, or if you're supposed to be somewhere? All I know is, I woke up, tangled in dampish covers, lying on my side, with a child hopping back and forth over me. I didn't recognize him.

I could not imagine how I had fallen asleep in my calm, ordered life and woken up in someone else's, being tortured by someone else's preschooler.

Plus, he was talking, telling me a story of some sort, in a conversational tone that indicated that we'd been doing this for a while already.

I moaned.

He lay down on his side, facing me, and gazed into my eyes. Oh, right, I thought. Ian. He's mine. That's right.

"Aw, momma," he sighed. "You are not feeling very well today. You are as sick as a penguin." **

"Daddy.." I bleated pathetically. Ian took over summoning Husband, who was mortified. Turns out that he had stepped downstairs for just a second, intending to come right back and collect the kid, but sat down and...blacked out.



*This is the way all my dreams used to end.
**On an episode of Go, Diego, Go!, a show of which I mildly disapprove,[1] Alicia needed a rescue boat to come out to an iceflow and get some sick penguins. The penguins indicted they were sick by giving the tiniest, more ridiculously fakey penguin coughs imaginable. A delicate, milquetoasty penguin cough. I found this to be freakin' hysterical, and so occasionally we daintily cover our mouths with our wings and make a tasteful little penguin cough.

[1] It's not that I mind Diego that much. I just think he's horning in on Dora's gig. Respect, people. (Besides, it's not just the pengion cough - I think all the amateurish fake animal noises are ridiculous.)

my most recent knitting project

























my next knitting project

1. I am the biggest baby on the earth. I have a head cold - A HEAD COLD!! - and I have been laying about whining non-stop for two full days.

2. My banana bread did a television appearance this morning.

Eric did a news segment on Channel 9. He's done a couple of these over the past year - they get a gang of financial experts together and have them field questions from a phone bank and a studio audience, and do a short interview with the anchors as well.

Eric brings along some baked goods to the TV station, to show appreciation for the crew. Okay, yes, and suck up - in a tasteful way, of course! - so that he'll get asked back. It has not appeared to have any effect at all on the frequency of bookings. He does a really good job - truly, he is in his element answering questions on the hoof.

BUT as we watched the last moments of the morning news show (well, when I say 'we', I must admit that Ian was not as interested as I was:

me: Oh look! Look at the that! Who's that on the TV?
Ian: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I WANT ICE CREAM! I WANT TO WATCH WUBBSY!
me: Daddy's on TV. Isn't that exciting?
Ian: AAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH. I hate you. (1-second pause.) Hug me.

I looked up from my son's downy head to see a full-screen shot of my walnut banana bread. It's what the station ran under the closing theme music.

So I thought about posting my banana bread recipe, or maybe the details of the vitamin C pasta dish I cooked myself for lunch. But instead I will save both those (the pasta dish needs more work anyway.) And tell you the banana tip. The tip that makes last-minute, tv-worthy banana bread possible.

When the bananas in the basket on your kitchen table start to look a little soft - not, like, fuzzy or anything, but more brown than yellow and more soft than sturdy - you can freeze them. Don't cut them or peel them, just throw them into the freezer. The peels will immediately turn completely black. Don't let that scare you.

They won't get any riper in the freezer, but they'll be really soft and sticky when the warm up; perfect for baked goods or a smoothie, anything where they're smooshed up). When you're ready to use them, take some out and let them thaw on the counter. They'll grow a layer of frost over their black peels, which will make them look completely rotten. Ignore that. You can break them into pieces to help them warm up faster. Leave them alone for about 10 minutes, then slit the peel with a butter knife and slip if off with your thumbs.

That's it! You'll want to warm them up a little longer if you're mashing them by hand, but you can mash them mechanically while they're still frozen.

hey, day 2 of the post-prandial walk. I think tomorrow will have to be a post-lunch walk instead, as we are having a meeting at church about the farm project (I wanted to do a link to info about the farm project - and there's nothing about it on our website. A temporary condition, I'm sure.)

I do not actually care for walking.

I like it as a mode of transportation, but as a form of exercise, it's kind of a drag. But I do like observing, and talking to myself. (Silently. In my head.)

And I do love (in a non-creepy way, of course....)...um, peeping in windows.

Okay, let's pause for a moment and see if we can imagine a non-creepy way to peep in windows.)
First of all, IT'S FROM THE SIDEWALK. It's not like I'm taking a ladder around with me, like Bluto at the sorority house.

informal survey:

some of the things
that the people
who live withing a mile of my house
were doing
between 6 and 7
on a Sunday evening.

grilling (1)
working on cars (2)
letting the dogs out (6)
standing in the front yard in bathrobes (1)
tying a mattress and box spring to the top of a compact car (2 men, one bedding set)
leaning in car windows to flirt (2)
making music (1 boy, front porch, harmonica; 1 person, converted garage, drum kit)
placing halloween decorations (2)
transporting crying infant from car to house (1)
shouting at brother on playground (1)
hiding behind porch to jump out and scare big sister (1)

Soup for a rainy night:

Edited to add: This recipe is a definite winner! I warmed up the carrot puree base at work, and stirred in the ginager juice, a glug of half-and-half, and it was terrific! The cardamom is a good addition - I might use more, but wrap it in cheesecloth or use a teaball, in the interest of avoiding the 'miscellaneous bug parts' garnish.

This is bubbling away right now. The lightning storm has mostly passed by, though there's still enough thunder to scare the kid - Daddy has taken him out of his room, and has bedded him down temporarily in ours, in a nest of pillows. I thought I would whip up some noodle soup for tomorrow's lunch, but was shocked to find that I had used up my fairly enormous stash of broth. We usually have gallons, practically.

But instead I am trying the carrot soup from Rachelle's recipe site. I don't have cream, but I have ginger and I boy, howdy, do I ever have carrots.

I also have celery. It's not called for in the recipe, but what the heck, I figured, and threw a couple stalks in. The smell of cooking celery instantly overpowered everything else, and filled up the entire house. I spent the next few minutes fishing diced celery out of the soup.

I dropped a couple cardamom pods in as well. I must remember to fish those out. They are not a pleasure to bite down on.

AND in the time it took me to write that, the carrots boiled dry. Just barely, though - I saved them from burning. Soon, I'll puree.

++++++++++++++++

Okay, it's about half an hour later. I have pureed the carrots and their cooking water, and juiced the ginger (using a coffee filter and my tiny but mighty fist). The celery had no detramental effects, but the cardamom might have been a mistake - the pods open up in the simmering water and release their little spherical seeds. Which are dark green. And are too small to strain out of the puree. And look just a little like bugs. Or parts of bugs. Bug heads.

I sampled a little - it is tasty - and packaged it up for tomorrow. My plan is to cart the components to the office - soup base, ginger juice, my small pepper grinder, plus a carton of cream - and mix it together and heat it up for lunch with the boss.

So far, this recipe is a winner, since all it involves is boiling and Cuisine-art-ing. The ingredients are inexpensive, and my old knobby carrots have sprung to gorgeous, fresh blinding orange and a beautiful velvety texture. It's practically a metaphor.

A new sermon

by me.

http://www.crcc.org/converse/talks.htm

(Thanks to Russ Dulaney, who shoots, edits and posts our sermons practically every Sunday afternoon, when the rest of us are taking our naps.)

Instead of typing up my sermon notes so I can email them for review

I present the best blog post ever

warning: anatomical terms.
And some non-anatomical terms. And one vulgar diagram. On pink paper.

Also the phrase "like a rat up a pipe" which I cannot even type without snorfling.

Love's a mystery, but I'd do it again.

Ah, the magic of the cameraphone.

So we went into Baltimore to see the Pretenders. It was the Attack of the Suburban Dads - all squinting at their wristbands, then shrugging and taking their places in the hall to hop, nod and point.

As did we. My urban hipster days are far, far behind me...though I must say, Chrissy Hynde does give one a different vision, an aspirational vision, of older womanhood. Seriously - I came out feeling really inspired about my future as an old, artistic, iconoclastic mom.

Anyway, I had not brought earplugs, and the Suburban Dad to whom I am married was getting a little foggy from being so close (we were, in fact, very very close) to the speakers. (I want to point out that, when I was going to shows, no one carried earplugs. Not even people who worked in the venues.) (Which is why we are a little deefer than the current generation of music-lovers will be in 20 years.) Anyway, we left, like hundreds of other Dads, before the Hold Steady came on. Here I had figured we'd be out til 2am. Ah well - saves on babysitting, I guess. Perhaps I can use the savings on a couple black t-shirts.

6 ideas

1. Sundays aren’t important
That is to say: Coming to church on Sunday does not make you a Christian or constitute a spiritual life. A Sunday isn’t our one chance to save souls or glorify God. It’s not the one place to learn about God, commune with the Holy Spirit, or be challenged. In many ways, as we spend time, sitting still, thinking about or listening to people talk about God, Sundays run the risk of being the least spiritually forming day of the week.

2.Sundays are important
They’re our front door, our chance to host strangers and long-lost friends. They can give us a chance to reflect, which most of us rarely get (or take) during the week. They tell us how to make direct contact with God. They provide a chance to consider new ideas about God and the world; the combination of time with God and new perspective may open the door for transformation.

3. A journey together, not a presentation to an audience
We are not in the business of trying to sell anything, convince anyone of anything, or impress anyone, with our logic or with our artistry. Including God. A worship gathering has a bunch of living humans making contact with a living God, and even though we do our very best to plan things well and have a destination in mind, we cannot anticipate or control everything that happens. I don’t think we should want to.

4. It matters that we are all together in one place
There has got to be a difference between coming to church and hearing a sermon on a podcast, listening to Passion CDs in the car, praying in the shower. It has to matter that we can look one another in the eye, touch one another, and actually converse rather than monologue. Our bodies have to matter, and our proximity has to matter.

5. some things are beyond words
Not only is God beyond our logical comprehension – we are. The mundane world is. We need to make peace, deep in our souls, with the idea that God is worth a lifetime of study, service, prayer, digging, listening – and that we are not going to get to ‘answers’. Ever. Much is lost when we try to make God ‘make sense’. It’s not even a good marketing ploy, because smart people can see right through it.

6. The only decent ‘selling point’ in favor of a life with God is that you get to have a life with God.

Back to School with the RevGals

It's time for a Back-To-School Friday Five!

1. Is anyone going back to school, as a student or teacher, at your house? How's it going so far?
Not exactly, though Eric performed at a huge Back-To-School Night last week (a huge success, since kids who wanted to see the show bugged their parents to take them, and so the school had a much bigger parent turnout than usual. Plus, the show kept the kids occupied for an hour, so parents and teachers could confab in relative peace. It was a really good idea! I would never have thought of it!)

Also, the big, brightly-colored ball of utter fabulousness that is Mystery Academy is all ramped up for the fall season, doing after-school programs at a ton of area elementaries. So, while no one's in a classroom for a full day, yeah, we did notice that it was September.

At our church, we treat fall as the new year - new fiscal year, new sermon series, new discipleship groups, and this year, a new way of structuring kids ministries for elementary schoolers.

2. Were you glad or sad when back-to-school time came as a kid?
Glad, I guess (though I imagine that I am gazing through the rosy gauze of nostalgia.) Certainly I was excited to go back to college...

3. Did your family of origin have any rituals to mark this time of year? How about now?
I remember going shopping - we lived in a rural area (to say the least), and so my poor, beleagured parents would pack me and my brother into the car for one whirlwind day of back-to-school clothes and shoe shopping at the glamorous and very sophisticated Harrisburg East Mall. We only went that one time every year, and so, every year, my dad would miss the exit. There we would be, sailing past the mall, keeping up with the traffic, unable to get anywhere near it. So every year, someone would shrug and say "I guess you can't get there from here, huh?"

4. Favorite memories of back-to-school outfits, lunchboxes, etc?
When I was going to kindergarten, I picked out the very best lunchbox from the display at the Rea&Derricks - a Superman lunchbox!

This one. (Lunchboxpad.com confirms that this is the design that was released in 1967. So that would be right.) Look at it! It's gorgeous! The shiny reds, the brilliant yellows...it's an excellent design.

The kids in my first grade did not see it that way. They made fun of me for having a boy's lunchbox! Why in the world would a lunchbox be a boy's lunchbox? Didn't everyone like Superman? He's super, for Chrissake - how could his appeal be limited to boys? Besides, it was mine, and I was indeed a girl (despite occasional speculation to the contrary) and so it must be a girl's lunchbox. Besides, it's the best one.

My exemplary reasoning did not sway anyone.
(And Mrs. Gross did nothing to intervene on my behalf, I now realize.)
I had the courage of my convictions at school, but broke down in tears at home.
.
But my mom did the best thing ever. My mom (though it could have been my dad) looked at the box, and had an idea. I chose a nice metallic gold, and we taped off some shapes and spray-painted the box. You could still see some of the great primary colors, but now they made colorful abstract patterns through dot and flower and heart outlines...even the word "LOVE" spelled out in masking tape on one side. It was completely original, one-of-a-kind, and mine. And no one ever made fun of it again.

(The whole gender question persisted, of course. When I was in second grade, I cut my own hair with my mother's layout scissors because I believed that would make me a boy. (Wearing a baseball cap everywhere hadn't quite done it.) This is reflected in my school pictures, where I am wearing a blue turtleneck, 1/16-inch bangs, and the most resentful look you have ever seen.)

5. What was your best year of school?
Second grade was very cool - I had a great teacher, Mrs. Murray. She loved golf and was allergic to grass. She read us Charlotte's Web. She was 6 feet tall, with enormously long arms and legs, and looked a little like Carol Burnett. I didn't know this at 7, but it turns out she was married to a notorious homosexual (it was the 60s, there were still people married to notorious homosexuals) and they had what my mother referred to as 'an arrangement'. I get the feeling that my parents were very fond of her, at least partly in spite of themselves.

Sophomore year of high school, I ran briefly with the Popular Crowd, which I enjoyed. Junior year, I accidentally gathered my own crowd of misfits, philosophers, gender-traitors and underachievers, which I enjoyed much more.

by request:

Someone (can't recall who) a while back (can't recall when) asked me for the cold coffee concentrate recipe/technique that I had extolled last summer in this post. Well, of course, I couldn't tell her - now I just throw a bunch of grounds in a pot until it looks vaguely right and then let nature take its course in the fridge. The link in the old post is broken, and so I went to find another similar recipe online.

Well, either I've been doing it wrong for a year (hardly out of the question) or...something. Everything I can find on the webs is all "chickory this" and "whole pound of coffee" that and "12-24 hours on the counter at room temperature" (which makes my food safety antennae perk up with concern, or perhaps retract in shock.) My procedure is smaller and colder.

Okay, so here's what I do, for cold coffee for one or two.

grind some coffee - we get Ethiopian beans when we're flush, but I'll use whatever's hanging around in the freezer otherwise - medium to coarse, as you would for a french press. How much? Hell if I know. 1/3 cup, maybe? I'll check next time. This is a recipe in R&D. And for me, it's been really hard to screw up - regardless of exact amounts, it always makes, you know, coffee. But I will say it really is better with dark roast coffee, ground right then.

drop them into a small container - I use the carafe from my college-dorm-sized, 4 cup Mr. Coffee. Cover with cold tap water and stir.

Add about 1/2 teaspoon of sugar (which is the same as I take in a large hot coffee) and 3 cardamom pods. Stir again if you want, or just put it in the fridge overnight.

To serve: stir to break up the floating biscuit of coffee grounds, and strain into a glass through a fine strainer (see note below) or through a paper coffee filter in a normal strainer.

Serve with or without ice, about equal proportions of coffee and 2% milk. You can compost your coffee grounds!

I think this makes regular-strength cold coffee if you steep it 8-12 hours, and some great massive strong stuff if you forget it's there and drink it 4 days later. NOTHING BAD HAPPENS IF YOU LEAVE IT FOR A WEEK. Yes, it is still delicious, even if you make it Sunday night and it sits in the carafe until Friday morning. I am serious.

About my strainer: I have this gold mesh conical strainer that I THINK is a tea infuser, which I THINK my brother left at our house, perhaps as far back as when he lived here many years ago. The closest image I can find on the web is this:
which is available from www.tealaden.com/. It would be very handy even if you never made coffee this way, or even tea, for that matter. It is indestructible and strains very tiny particles, and yet, surprisingly, is not that hard to clean. I definitely recommend.

People on other websites hasten to remind you, so I will too: cold-brewed coffee has more caffeine than coffee made with hot water - the heat breaks down the caffeine a little. I don't know if there's a caffeine difference between the 8-hour coffee and the 48-hour coffee. What's a little racing heartbeat among friends?

Friday Five on Sunday

1. Is vulnerability something that comes easily to you, or are you a private person?
Any private-ness that I may have clung to, in any area, has evaporated over the last few years. I've always been pretty much an open book by nature; I am the opposite of a mysterious woman. There's an old Peanuts cartoon where Lucy tells Linus that he should never try to put anything over on anyone, because he's transparent - he has "a glass head." Well, that's me.

2.How important is it to keep up a professional persona in work/ ministry?
Two Christmases ago, I had a baby. While I was on leave, the founding pastor of our church left (I mean, we knew he was leaving, it's not like he up and quit one day.) and we got a brand new pastor.

I returned to work with a 3-month-old son under my arm, undiagnosed postpartum depression, insane rage, boob trouble, and no freakin' idea who I was now or what I would do - I knew that staying home was sucking, but I had no idea how working would work.

So my first meeting with my new boss consisted of me crying for 2 hours. Not a little tasteful sniveling. I got snot on his sweater. No kidding. I had met this man exactly once before - you know, hmm, good choice, seems nice - and then I spent 2 hours snotting on him. (The New Guy had the unhappy task of telling me about an new policy that was going to be very, very hard for me to comply with; my old supervisor had been too soft-hearted to tell me.)

Well, after all that snot, it was clearly too late to make a good impression. There was no way to 'game' this. I had nothing to lose by being myself and speaking my mind - with The New Guy or anyone else. I have no image to maintain with my co-workers, every one of whom has walked in on me breastfeeding or pumping behind a closed door. Everyone in my congregation has seen me cry, drop the bread, heard me sing off-key, heard me curse.

Honestly, I do a good job - I don't want it to sound like I'm just some big shambling mound of snot and harsh opinions. I've always worked hard, and I think the last few years have made me a much better leader. I don't waste people's time, and I'm dependable and not just a mess of jello at work. I think it's an advantage that most of my work is nurturing and encouring, and working with art and artists - things might be very different if I had to be authoritative all the time, but I rarely do. And there has been astonishing grace for me with this community (even though I sometimes think of it as being nothing but critical....)

3. Masks, a form of self protection discuss...
Not an effective form, since the masks people choose expose much more than they protect. Really, there is no protection - no one hides stuff anywhere near as well as they think they do.

4. Who knows you warts and all?
Eric, of course. Beth. Chuck. (I have known these people for 28 years. As of this week.)
My brother. Saint Dad and The New Guy, who I have known for only a few years.

5. Share a book, a prayer, a piece of music, a poem or a person that touches the deep place in your soul, and calls you to be who you are most authentically.
It's really just a couple of sentences, from the end of the catechism section of the Book of Common Prayer (ECUSA). To the removed observer, this could seem like an arcane bit of verbage, a little legalistic - but believe me when I tell you that this belief is central to my experience of God, church, and my ministry.

Q: Is God's activity limited to these rites?

A: God does not limit himself to these rites; they are patterns of countless ways by which God uses material things to reach out to us. (www.bcponline.org)

Well, thanks be to God.

Sequestered in Baltimore

AHHHHHHH!

We are going to see the PRETENDERS!!!
in 2 weeks!!!
also The Hold Steady!

Please express your intense jealousy by volunteering to babysit. Thank you.
(actually, there's no need to be jealous, as the tickets were relatively inexpensive and they aren't sold out. www.Sonarbaltimore.com - if you scroll down to the show and click on Buy Now, it will take you to TicketMaster, where they will gouge you on fees but YOU WON'T CARE BECAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO SEE THE PRETENDERS!)

In fact, you won't care because you're going to be leaving the house sans toddler. In 2 weeks.
I should start napping now.

This made me feel better today:

All great deeds and great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning. —Albert Camus

Peanut Sesame Noodles

My most requested recipe! A friend just called me to get this, and I thought I'd post it. I got it from the Washington Post food section, several years ago.

Boil a big pot of water.
Blanch 2 large stalks of broccoli for a couple of minutes, fish them out and chop them into bite-sized pieces.
Cook 1 lb of pasta (I usually use thin spagetti, but any long noodle works) in the same water. Drain.

Dressing: mix together:
1/4 cup soy sauce
3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
2 + 1/4 teaspoons chinese hot oil (it's red, soybean oil infused with red chilis)
1/2 cup peanut butter (any kind)
2 tablespoons sugar
3 cloves garlic, pressed

You can whisk that together, or, if you have a jar with a tigh-fitting lid, shake it together. It's kind of gross and clumpy, and seems like it will never come together... then it magically does! And it's all creamy and lovely!

Toss the dressing with the warm noodles and brocoli. Serve warm or cold. Top with chopped green onions, peanuts or sesame seeds if you want it to look fancy.

This is a great potluck dish - it doubles and triples with no complications; you can sub other things for the brocoli or skip it entirely; it's vegan (and MAN do the vegans appreciate it!), low in saturated fat, no cholesterol, about 35% of calories from fat.

Seriously, you have to try this. Everyone love it.

Get me to the church on time - a late RevGals Friday 5

On the Labor Day theme:
1. Tell us about the worst job you ever had.
Himmmph, tough call. I've had a number of jobs that started out okay and got really, really bad - partly because I worked as a temp. Why do companies need temps? Yeah, occasionally to cover for maternity leaves or sudden workload changes, but mostly BECAUSE SOMEONE IS A FREAKIN' NUT AND THE PEOPLE WHO WORK UNDER THEM KEEP QUITTING, and eventually they give up on filling the position and just start revolving temps.

I spent a very unhappy couple of months at the postal service headquarters in DC, with the people who manage the development and deployment of complicated machines. The people HATED one another and hated their work. And were paid way, way too much to quit. Even I was, as a temp. That tension makes highly-paid work a real trap, I think. (Ha, not to worry - I doubt I will ever strain against that particular tension again.)

I had one terrible theatre job, creating props for a nationally known regional theatre. I was 20; I was just coming out of a debilitating depression - I really had no business taking the job at all. In a perfect world, I would have spent that summer going to therapy, fine-tuning medications, taking long walks and sitting by a pool. Instead, I took an allegedly prestigious intern position in a fairly high-stress company. I was crap at it. Truly. And I had a boss who always said every single thing that came into her head immediately.

And I had one fairly terrible job at a non-profit, where people said things like "we're like a family!" and "Of course we all work a lot of hours, but no one minds! Because it's such fun, and we all love each other!" What they actually meant: "If you have any interests outside of this office, you're not really a team player." And "If you don't care for how we do things, it just shows that you've never really fit in." It was a little like The Stepford Office. I felt like a horrible failure when I quit after 11 months. I later learned that 11 months was the tenure of my 3 predecessors combined.

I've also had a ton of super-fun jobs, in theatre, retail (yes! It's true!), non-profits and on Capitol Hill. On balance, I think I've lucked out.


2. Tell us about the best job you ever had.
3. Tell us what you would do if you could do absolutely anything (employment related) with no financial or other restrictions.
Don't barf. The job I have now is by far the best job I've ever had, and it's what I would be doing (mostly) if I could be doing anything. All my other ideas for perfect jobs - radio DJ, gallery curator, humor columnist, restaurant critic - pale in comparison.

Actually, I bet a lot of the RevGals and Pals say that.

4. Did you get a break from labor this summer? If so, what was it and if not, what are you gonna do about it?
I had a week with a friend in Ohio, and that was wonderful. I'd like more, of course, but I think, for moms of almost-three-year-olds, a break from labor may be a relative term.

5. What will change regarding your work as summer morphs into fall? Are you anticipating or dreading?
I am excited! I'll post a whole post about why. Plus I always love fall, regardless of what's going on.

Bonus question: For the gals who are mothers, do you have an interesting story about labor and delivery (LOL)?

I was too large to go into labor.

My darling zygote was accompanied by more than 3 times the necessary amniotic fluid, and so when I say I was as big as a Volkswagon, I am not being hyperbolic. I actually frightened some of my friends when I turned in profile.

I really wasn't aware of how big I was - I was round before, and those pants, they're, you know,..stretchy! - until I saw a photo from my shower, 3 weeks before delivery. ("Holy *^$%!" I believe I said, when my husband handed me the print.)

My due date was Jan 4. When the doc said that I would not be making it to January, I made a plan to work through our Christmas Eve service, and drive to the hospital the next morning. Or perhaps the one after that.

My brother, having seen an episode of Malcolm in the Middle where the always-ignored child had to suffer the indignity of sharing his birthday with a new baby, called and begged me not to have my kid on Dec 21. Um, at this point, it may not be up to me, exactly, I explained, but I'll do my level best.

Well, yes to my brother, no to the baby Jesus. My scheduled c-section went flawlessly on Dec 22. I spent my 15 minutes in the delivery room encouraging the anesthesiologist to come to our church on Christmas eve. I stayed in the (nearly deserted) hospital 'til almost New Years Eve.

Monitoring indicated, surprisingly, that I actually had begun having contractions in time for my delivery...but my belly was so enormous that they could not have gotten organized enough to hurt, let alone push anybody out.

New Recipe: Accidentally Thai Orzo salad.

I made this up off the top of my head the other day, and it ended up being DELICIOUS!

Put a large pot of water on to boil

In a skillet, heat some garlic and minced shallots in olive oil.

Seed, slice into tiny bits, and add to pan 3-4 of the hot red peppers that the guy who works on you car gave you. Add those to the skillet. Cook until garlic is golden and shallots are soft.

Shred some napa cabbage, and throw it into the skillet – as much as will fit. Add a splash of the hot water from the pasta pan. Cover and cook until it wilts.

Once the cabbage has shrunk down enough so that the pan’s contents are almost stir-able, uncover and let the water boil off, stirring occasionally.

About this time, the water should be boiling in the pasta pan. Add some orzo (I used about 1/3 of the small box, so a couple of ounces) and cook uncovered until done (about 9 minutes.)

Turning your attention back to the skillet - Once the water from the skillet has boiled off, throw in a decent glug of seasoned rice vinegar, and let that cook until the super-acidic smell has dissipated. (You're reducing it, but it’s hard to know when it’s reduced, because the cabbage is throwing off a little water. You have to do it by smell.)

When that seems done, take it off the heat. Transfer to a storage or serving dish, to cool.

When the orzo is done, drain it (REALLY WELL – shake the colander) and add it to the dish. Toss to combine.

Taste and adjust seasoning. I went a little astray at this point - Perhaps I got a pepper seed on my tongue, because when I tasted it at this stage, I had the impression that this dish was abusively spicy - like it might be entirely too hot to eat. This did not turn out to be true.

Chop one cucumber and half a red bell pepper, and drain them on a paper towel. You might even squeeze them a little. I was really worried about the dish turning out watery, so I tried to squish every drop out of the orzo and the fresh vegetables. As it turns out, It wasn't watery in the least. Was that because I was extra-vigilant? Or was it a dumb thing to be worried about? Who knows? Anyway, add the chopped vegs to the salad and toss to combine.

Refrigerate. Serve with a squeeze of lime juice.

um.....

perverse lightswitch
Originally uploaded by Simon Davison

this, of course, is what happens when you go searching for Creative Commons art on Flickr.

Somebody throw me a party

Yesterday was my 5-year Blogiversary.

I did not bake, or eat, this unbelievable gorgeous cupcake,
which I fell for on this woman's Flickr photostream.

I am still pondering how to mark this auspicious occasion.
I think I should buy myself something from here. Like this.

so if any of you would like to send me a medium-sized box of money, I can get right on that. 'Kaythanxbye.

Awesome Dinner for a cooler evening: Pot Roast and squash

Preheat oven to 400.

Heat a cast-iron dutch over on the stovetop.
When it's hot, drop is some olive oil and some butter. (It will sizzle. You will wonder if it is possible to fry butter.)
Use that to brown a big chunk of london broil; you can salt and pepper it while you brown it.
Once it's pretty crusty on all sides, pour in a half a bottle of sweet beer (I used Blue Moon, which I have in the fridge because it takes me 8 months to drink 6 beers.) Quarter an onion or two (mine were Vidalias) and drop them in, cover the pan and stuff it in the oven for an hour.

During the hour (no hurry) slice up some yellow squash - no need to peel, just trim off the ends - and some zucchini - I peeled some strips and left some, and discarded the ends of this too.

Overlap the little rounds in a layer in a buttered glass pie pan. (If you have recently watched Ratitouille, you'll know exactly what I mean.) Sprinkle with fine bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese. Repeat layers until you run out of room, or squash. End with cheese.

Beat 2 eggs with some milk - 2 generous splashes - and some melted butter. Pour this custard mixture slowly and gently over the squash layers, not disturbing the arrangement but giving it time to flow into the air spaces between the vegetables and soak into the bread crumbs.

When the one-hour buzzer goes off, lower the oven temp to 350, and slide the pie pan onto the center rack of the oven. Open the dutch oven and throw in some potatoes. Cover it, return it to the oven, and set the timer for another hour.

At the end of the second hour: The squash casserole should be bubbly on the edges, just barely puffy in the middle, and the cheese will be crispy brown. If you were to stab this with a fork, there would still be a little tender resistance from the squash slices. Ahhhh, that's the stuff.

Take the dutch oven out, place it on the stovetop, and turn the burner on high. Fish out the beef and the potatoes, and set them aside. Pour in the rest of the beer, deglaze the pan, and reduce it, to make a glazey/gravy-ish fluid. Some things you might add to taste:
salt and pepper
garlic powder
Worcestershire sauce
soy sauce
hot chili sauce

or maybe one or two drops of fish sauce.

No kidding. This stuff - and I have the nastiest, most super-American supermarket version - made of anchovies, smells like rot and tastes a little like...I don't know, caramel Parmesan soy sauce? Something thoroughly disgusting and yet kind of intriguing. Lick a little off your finger, in other words, and right after you say 'ewwww' you find yourself thinking 'hmmm....'

(Here's the surprising sort of thing you can learn on the web: foodblogger Andrea Nguyen conducted a fish sauce taste-off (!!) over at Viet World Kitchen!)

Anyway, I could swear (though I can find no proof) that I heard my heroine recommend this on her radio show as a way to make gravy more delicious, with depth and meaty umami-ness....

And she's right. This was insipid before the fish sauce, and awesome afterward. I recommend.

No more than a couple of drops, though. And don't leave the cap off for long.

Anyway; once you're happy with the flavor of the gravy, slide or shred the meat (mine came out dry, though not overcooked) and stir it in. Serve the meat on top of the potatoes; serve the squash side dish in triangular slices, like pie.

Serve on the back porch, under the Christmas lights, with a crying toddler reclining between your knees.

Absolutely

In which I spring to my own defense.

Wow, it's really interesting what motivates people to comment.

So, to clarify: I'm not really afraid of Presbyterians. Not all Presbyterians. (Though, as 1-4 Grace points out in her comment, a team of needle-wielding Reformed dentists would freak me out, I'm pretty sure.) I'm a little uneasy about some specific individual ones.

This unease started because of an old friend who once worked at a Pres megachurch, and regaled us with tales of his old boss. I would have to say: I'd be afraid of his former senior pastor, if I ever met him. Being privy to the normal amount of megachurch industry gossip (!!) I hear that that senior has had a big influence on another notable pastor, who I know a little, and with whom I disagree on nearly everything. (But, oddly, of whom I am not particularly afraid.) So that information led to a mild disagreeable feeling. Dumb, eh?

And then this happened: (background, if you're just tuning in: I'm the liturgist at an independent church.) The music pastor I worked with was asked to speak at a Pres congregation about the role of the arts, and he (not wanting to do it) punted to me.

And I found myself up nights wondering - were these PCUSAs, or another kind? And which kind was the progressive kind? I used to know... Not that I wouldn't want to talk to people who identify as conservative (God knows, I married one) - but would they want to listen to me? Would they take one look at me and... Do they disapprove of women in the pastorate? Will they ask a lot of questions I can't answer?

Well, the event got canceled, so I was off the hook for figuring out what brand of Presbyterians these were.

But the larger question - how do I manage the expectation of people who expect a "normal" pastor (around here, that's a man, around 60, with a bible college degree and wire-frame aviators) and get, um, me - that continues to evolve.

So I guess I'm not afraid of Presbyterians. It was shallow of me to say for, reaching for a cheap laugh, and I apologize.

Instead, it seems that I'm actually afraid of the disapproval of strangers. Is that true? Good Lord, I hope not.

But that would seem a logical conclusion.

But you know...if, as Grace claims, they really are a whole denomination of good cooks, then at least we would have interests in common.

Interestingly, to answer FugueState's comment question - I have never had anything but affection for Catholics. I know!! Utterly illogical! I have no defense, really.

I have used up all my inspiration on, you know, PASTORING...

so I am meme-ing.
Over at the Frog Blog, 1-4 Grace said:
1. List these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog.

1. I just bleached my bangs. The fumes made me short of breath.

2. I had my first 'lost child' incident yesterday (or rather, was on the parental side of the incident for the first time. As a kid, I was constantly wandering away.) I was buying yarn, Ian wandered off, sales associates collected him within about 90 seconds....nonetheless, I cannot help but feel bad, like the badness of my parenting has been revealed.

3. I realized something about myself today. It is too private to post on the internet, and at the same time too cleverly quippy and thought-provoking to keep to myself. Hmmm.

4. I am afraid of Presbyterians.

5. I listened to the Foo Fighter's song Times Like These at least 15 times today. I kept it on repeat in my car.

6. I am squeamish about needles, but really freaked out by dentistry.

7. I have had at least 6 concussions...Hmmm -that averages out to be only one every seven or so years. That doesn't sound as bad as it initially did.

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Defiant

"Food made by hand is an act of defiance and runs counter to everything in our modernity."

]- Bill Buford, Heat, pg 301



The pizzas came out really good. To accompany them, I recommend the Yellowtail Pinot Grigio, cheap as dirt, girly, fresh and tasty. In fact, you can get pretty drunk on this without realizing that you have actually drunk anything. Like, literally, anything. Like, water, for example. You will be drunk and also mysteriously parched.

Just read:

Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise (Paperback)

by Ruth Reichl

Now reading:



Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany (Vintage) by Bill Buford








Now raising in the kitchen: pizza dough

Finally finished: Rebekah's cardigan

Frogged: sock yarn wrap - the slantedness of the stitch pattern (turkish) and the slantedness of starting from the corner (Clapotis-ish) canceled each other out, and so it was coming out too right-angle-y.

Awesome Dinner

No kidding, this is totally delicious. It's ridiculous.

Greens and Shrimp

2 big bunches sweet potato leaves plus whatever else is lying around
heaping spoonful minced garlic
Oil
salt and pepper
some shrimp, not even a pound. Whatever's on sale.

Wash your vegetation, cut it into pieces, and shell your shrimp. Set both aside.
Heat a wok or frying pan; add oil and heat until the oil shimmies a little.
Add the garlic to the pan, and for God's sake keep it moving. Do NOT let it turn black. Or even dark brown. A little golden is fine.

When it starts to smell good (instead of tinny), add the green stuff. I has a couple dispeptic-looking green onions, so I put those in after the garlic, with some salt and pepper. Then I added the leaves, stems, and some edible pea pods I had left over.

Stir fry the green stuff until the leaves are dark green and wilted, and the stems and whatever else are bright green and a little soft. Plate this and add a little salt. (We're big sea salt fans here, and this is a good choice here because the bigger flakes don't just dissolve into the dish - they keep some personality.)

Turn the heat down in the pan a little, add another splash of oil, and throw in your shrimp. A little salt and pepper - very little - is all they need to add, because the stuff that's stuck to the pan gets stuck to them and makes a little coating. If you really wanted to, you could throw in a spicy dry seasoning, but I think the subtle garlic thing is just right.

Stir-fry the shrimp until they turn pink (with a tiny bit of golden brown) and throw them onto the greens. I served this with coconut rice, but you don't really need it. (For some reason, I always think coconut rice - that is, rice made with coconut milk - is going to be better than it actually is. It's good, but not really good enough to justify the massive carb-and-fat intake.)

What we got at Artscape:

This sweet felt flower brooch, made by Jen Menkhaus, who was supernice even as she refused to sell me an even more adorable flower that she was just too attached to. You'll see if if you click the link - it's the one in the banner of her site. Artscape devoted one block to "new-wave hipster" Esty crafters. It was pretty much the best block, and it reminded me of the Artscapes of long ago, back when I lived in that neighborhood in the 80s. (When these new wave hipster Etsy crafters were in utero.)

YARN! from C-eye-ber Fiber. (okay, so they aren't great at keeping up their website. They're good with the spinning and dying, though.) Interestingly, a similar palette to my new brooch; they both go with the turquoise and teal side of my wardrobe. This will be a shawl or wrap of some kind before the hard freeze sets in at my office. Also, ran into Jolene and some other Wednesday Knitting Meetup buds at the booth (because it's not Artscape if I don't see at least someone I know. Usually, someone on a unicycle, but not this year.)



Practice with the safety scissors at the Target Family Art tent. (Target supports both Artscape and The Spendid Table. I'm never going to WalMart again.)

(Except for gas.)










Oh my Lord Jesus save me, a kazoo.









Tired feet.

In fact, tired everything.

Friday Five: What's in a Name?

Over at RevGals, RevRod asks

This got me to thinking. How do we come up with all of these names? There must be at least a few good stories out there.

well, funny you should ask....

So how did you come up with your blogging name? And/or the name of your blog...

My Funky Fat Girl identity - it's my domain name, my Flickr ID, my Tumblr name, all the way back to my original LiveJournal account - started because I once had plans to open a women's boutique. Called Funky Fat Girl. Seriously, I can show you the sketches for the sign. I hatched this plan years ago, when I was spending a good deal of time at the Fat!So? Gab Cafe forum, so it must have been 10ish years ago - maybe more - and I loved the name so much that I wanted to stake my claim right away.

Occasionally, my feminism and my advancing age make me wonder how long I can claim "girl" as the punctuation on my most-noised-about identity.

My title is a line from a 1960s Peanuts cartoon. Lucy Van Pelt, being disciplined in school, spends 3 panels writing "I will not talk in class. I will not talk in class. I will not talk in class."
In the fourth panel, she sets her jaw and writes "On the other hand, who knows what I'll do?" A literary moment that has stuck with me since elementary school.


Are there any code names or secret identities in your blog? Any stories there?

I used to be kind of uptight about people finding out what church I served at, and having a bad impression of us because of my endless whining and my repeated 'oversharing'. Truly, ministry is hard enough - I don't need to mess it up further because I made a joke about ovulating on my blog. I used to refer to our parish as St. Joan's, because I thought that Joan of Arc - dirty from the battlefield, inapproprately gendered, treasuring her visions, wildeyed - would feel at home with us.

But when I started preaching, and I wanted to be able to link to my sermons so that my far-flung friends would see them, it meant letting go of even that much anonymity. But honestly, this is not a widely-read blog - barely anyone that I don't know in the flesh reads this.

I do still consider the googleability of certain words and proper names, and occasionally go all jokey-euphemistic about it. YES I know one slightly famous person, goody for me.

What are some blog titles that you just love? For their cleverness, drama, or sheer, crazy fun?

Snackreligious, Whoopee, Mimi Smartypants, Beauty Tips for Ministers, and I Blame the Patriarchy. And Going Jesus!

And, incidentally, why has no one gone to Going Jesus and bought me one of these tshirts?

What three blogs are you devoted to? Other than the RevGalBlogPals blog of course!

Along with the ones above, I'm devoted to Fluid Pudding, Sweetney, and Brandy at Loosetooth.com. In my work life, Jonny Baker, Maggie Dawn and Addison Road. My fav blog ever is Chez Miscarriage, which no longer exists.

Who introduced you to the world of blogging and why?

Charon, my sister-in-law, back when you needed a personal invitation to get an LJ account. My blogiversary is August 11, 2003. My first post mentioned ovulation and cargo pants. (Not in any implied causal relationship.) And I don't recall why, except blogging just seems like "me".

Triple Feature

So I was familiar with the Who album Tommy

(side note: my husband was born in 1961. There's not even a full year separating us. Somehow he grew up being a Who/Moody Blues/Beatles person, with a decent dash of Herman's Hermits. While I - born in 1962 - grew up a Clash/Talking Heads/REM/Devo person. My point is this - I was familiar with Tommy the album because of Eric.

And he is completely, utterly sick of Stop Making Sense and Murmur because of me.)

So while I was waiting for Project Runway Season 5 to start, I tuned into VH1Classic (oh, don't start) and watched the last third of Tommy the Ken Russel movie. I think I missed all the good parts, and was left with the too-long messianic holiday camp part. While this is not actually a good movie in any recognizable sense, I would certainly watch it again - and especially if I had copies of Godspell and Superstar on hand. That would be quite an afternoon.

Dinner tonight was this, which was wholesome, nourishing, and tragically dull. It needs SOMETHING mixed in with the potato filling, some texture, some big flavor - maybe roasted onions or big chunks of olives. Or some capers in the pan sauce.

Hmmm, sounds like I'll be making this again, doesn't it?

Since dinner was boring, I made cupcakes. They are delicious.

Honestly, I am not a dependable cake baker at all. I like making cakes, but they don't usually come out delectable. I have a couple of go-to recipes - an almost-flourless chocolate cake from an old La Madelaine cookbook that my brother found for me, and the very best pound cake in the world - and they always work. But chances are that other recipes will be a little dry, a little heavy, just not as lovely as I imagine.

I actually have a suspicion that these are a little dry, from being overcooked, but I ate two earlier and cannot possibly squeeze in another, even for the purposes of critique.
The flavor is great, though.

What not to cook

Please do not use your perforated aluminum baguette pan to make french bread pizzas. Oh, it seems like a genius idea - it seems like it would cradle the halved loaf beautifully, keeping it from listing to one side and dumping its cheese. And it seems like it would ensure a wonderfully crisped crust.

And it does both those things, perfectly. And the pizza will come out really really good.



And then you will spend your evening wondering how to get the baked-on cheese off the pan, intertwined, as it has become, with the hundreds of tiny holes.

So any effort that you have saved by making a simple, barely-any-cooking-but- still-pretty-delicious dinner for the fam will be more than made up for in clean-up. And then you'll remember - oh, right, cooking is the part I LIKE. It's washing dishes I hate.

In the crock pot for tomorrow night - some kind of weird chicken thing, an improvisation based on this recipe (from the library) which I started making and then realized that I had hardly any of the ingredients called for.

Full report if we survive eating it tomorrow night.

EDITED TO ADD: It's been almost 4 hours, and apparently we are not dying, despite eating chicken legs cooked at the low setting of our 30-year-old crock pot. Not bad. Needs more ginger and more vegetation.

It is taking absolutely all my intestinal fortitude (uh, heh?) to not google "salmonella".

I should just google "hypochondria" instead.

CSA: The Mystery Leaf

Bet you don't know what that is.

I certainly didn't.

I cooked and ate them anyway - threw them into the poaching liquid with last night's fish (an ancient frozen tilapia filet that, you know, helped keep body and soul together for the night, and, perhaps more importantly, is no longer taking up space in my freezer.)
(Aged frozen tilapia: not that bad when poached in orange juice and served with salsa and diced mango.)

The leaves were very tender and tasty, and I liked them a lot. So I was pleased to find that they weren't, like, poisen sumac or anything.

The internet tells me that these are sweet potato leaves. They are a staple vegetable of Taiwan (stirfried with garlic, in a dish called chao fan su ye) and west Africa; they're a good source of vitamins A, C, Riboflavin and lutein.

Also in last week's farm share: onion, more chard, sugar snap peas. kale, lettuce.

I had set a goal of eating 85-90% of our CSA share overall - I knew we wouldn't be able to get through it all every week, and there are a lot of fibery things that the World's Greatest Husband can't eat. But I was pretty worried about things composting in the crisper, and so far, we're eating nearly 100% of our vegetables!

I have mentioned this before - I feel a sense of accomplishment every time we eat our groceries, rather than throwing out furry stuff.

Dude, how boring am I?

“He’s pretty nerdy, but he’s very charismatically nerdy. That’s what fascinated me about him.”


Our old friend David London profiled in last week's DC City Paper. It's pretty excellent. I like the photos, too.

{Is it really possible that I've known David since he was in (gulp) high school? Really?

Damn.}

Go read this, it's interesting. No, really, I'm serious. It actually is.

Dude, Seriously.

http://www.fussy.org/

This is Mrs. Kennedy's dog Peewee. She says:

"...over the course of several weeks, my dog, Peewee, has burned the word oui into the grass outside our condo. Peewee peed a "oui." Or, in other words: Pee? Oui!"

Mosaic Meme from Renee

instructions:

Use Flickr search for the answers of each of the questions below, using only the first page, choose an image, copy and paste each of the URL’s into the mosaic maker.

The questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you attend?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you.
12. Your Flickr name.

1. Hanging with Betsy, 2. Citrus-y ingredients for Tom Ka Gai, 3. former location of higher education, 4. liquid crosswalk, 5. Jay & Silent Bob (Explore), 6. Venti Iced Coffee, 7. Times Square at Dusk, 8. Tres Leches with BLUE CHERRIES!!!, 9. Bishops, 10. Untitled, 11. 133: SOTTS will make you jump!, 12. Creamy Dreamy


Hey, pray for my friend R. She is going through some shit. For weeks. And for weeks to come.

As for me, I am back from Cincinnati, having spent a week with this
family. And another family. That would be 10 people in the house, including 3 moms, 6 boys (ages 9,7,6,4,2, and nearly 2) and one poor dad who was trying to work at home.

This whole concept (from the 12 hour-each-way car trip on) sounded COMPLETELY MOONBAT CRAZY and I have no idea what possessed me to say yes.

It turned out almost completely perfect from top to bottom. We had so much fun. I am so glad we went. I am so grateful to all 9 people:
Stacy, Rusty, Liam and Sean; Deedie, RJ, Trevor and Ashen; and to Ian, who was 1000% more wonderful a traveling companion than I would have imagined.
(Plus to Eric, for not giving me a hard time about wanting to go, and surviving a week without us, and taking my million cell phone calls at all hours.) (And calling and texting me at all hours. We've been married 17 years this month, and we are still pathetic when separated. Nauseating? Adorable? True.)

It was so great. It was crazy.


I also have to say something: I am really proud of my church. Of course we are a normal church, full of damage and screwed-up-ness. But church this summer has been awesome.

That may be a sentence that has never been written before.

Disturbingly exciting:

New Project Runway
Starts July 16!!
and it's at 9 instead of 10!

As we all know, I don't get many chances to sew anymore, or pick up a Vogue, and I rarely wear anything other than a v-neck tshirt, hoop earrings, dark jeans and sandals. But a TV show about sewing! Clear my schedule!

Worship Wars, part 7,948,349,002

Feel free to ignore this, unless you've come over from the RevGal site. This started as a comment on a post there, and it grew so verbose and overbearing that it...could only be a blog entry.

RevGal is a site for women clergy and our sympathizers. They have a regular feature called Ask the Matriarch, where experienced pastors offer insight. This week's question was about contemporary and traditional worship music, and the congregants who hate it. The post and the comments are quite helpful. And I wanted to say this:

We are going though something related in our church (we're an independent church founded in the 80s, so, as you can guess, upbeat contemporary music has been the rule for our whole life. Other background - suburban, a few hundred people, multi-multi-mutli denominational plus unchurched.)

Recently, we decided that music (styles, skill levels, song choices) weren't the issue - we're digging into the dirt of Sundays, saying 'what is a large weekly gathering FOR anyway? What does it do well? What can be done better in homes and neighborhoods? What should the role of the gathering be in the life of the community? What words and actions are consistent with that, and what are muddying the waters for people?'

And what can you get from being wholly part of this community that you can't get anywhere else?

(That sounds like a marketing question, but it's not - it's just recognizing that people where we live have complete access to practically everything in the world 24 hours a day, endless choices, endless support for the religions of Consumerism and Individualism. And frankly, our church has told them, at least sometimes, that there's nothing terribly wrong with Individualism as a guiding philosophy, that it's not altogether incompatiable with following Christ.)

Some of the answers will seem obvious to you (clergywomen of RevGal), of course, and some are unbreakably rooted in the history and polity of denominations. But we have no denomination to reign us in - we have all of scripture, church history, and opinion to sift through. It's been a LONG time since we sat down and thought systematically about this question. The answers we choose could lead to new music, new liturgy, new ways of speaking, a new format (or some very old format...) and different people being involved.

Me, I am very wary about rushing to the finish line, and settling on something that feels 'safe' or logical and 'solves the problem'. That would be a huge relief, but I think God brought us out here for a reason, and I don't want to miss this chance to be really radically God's, instead of leaning on my own understanding.

We're getting very close to the edge of the cliff. Several times a day, I remind myself that it takes trust and a lot of discipline to fly.

o hi, i m in yr conference room, where i died frm yr 6 hr mtng

CSA week 4: Love Me or Leaf Me

collards
red and yellow chard
cabbage
3 kinds of lettuce
beets


plus I gave our partner family a bonus, a big bunch of basil from our pots out front.


In addition to beets, I am totally digging chard. It's just like spinach. Why is spinach totally dominant and chard barely heard of? Is it this guy?

I have cooked nothing interesting all week, though I did trade collards technique tips with the Godfather of the Emerging Church.

The Baby Tiger Poo Video

I found this delightful.


I think that means there is something wrong with me.

Be nice to me.

Um, no kidding.

"Mothers and toddlers were arguing on average between 20-25 times an hour..." write Lehigh University's Deborah Laible, PhD, and colleagues.

Why thanks, CBS News!

Oh, wait! What's that you say, Boston Globe? You have some thing to add to this conversation?
Oh - you say it's really not directly related, it happened to remind you that Nearly half of all pregnancies are accidents.

Yeah, okay, thanks for mentioning.

(Oh, piss off. He's the Most. Awesome. Accident. EVER.)
(Plus - he's above average!)

New Sermon

I delivered another sermon this morning.

The audio's on the web now; I imagine the video will be available tomorrow. (same link.) (It's really short.)

I had an unpleasant realization this week, because I was preaching today and I'm leading kid's church next week. That's like two sermons! In a row! OMG Help me!

And then I realized (this is actually the unpleasant part) that PRACTICALLY EVERY MINISTER IN THE WORLD prepares and delivers a sermon EVERY WEEK. In addition to counseling and hospital visits and creating discipleship cirriculum and dealing with budget and whatever else.

I am (again) humbled by the very idea of vocational ministry.

CSA Take 3: Guess what's coming to dinner?

Right. More leaves.
Also beets, but we gave them all to our partner family, as we had just had some great beets a couple of days before. Sharin' the beet love. (Have I mentioned that I am in love with beets? Yes, I believe I have.)

Rainbow lettuce, green cabbage, chard (a couple kinds), collards, spinach, and I swear that's bok choy.

What we lack in variety, we are beginning to make up in quantity, as the season gets into fuller swing.

I know it sounds like I'm disappointed with the continuing Festival of Leaves, and I'm actually not. They're not terribly glamorous (not in their just-picked state, and certainly not when I'm done cooking them) and I'm a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume of greens, but it has definitely made for a healthier, more varied summer already. Plus, with the ups and downs of being an entrepreneurial household, and the COMPLETE INSANITY of food prices lately, there is something cozy about knowing that we've got a ton of nutritious groceries already paid for - through Thanksgiving.

Today was a non-sucky Saturday. (Yeah. Mark your calendars.) We pulled out the inflatable baby pool (truly a baby pool, not more than a couple of gallons, warms up fast) and put it in the shade, and I sat in a camp chair and soaked my feet, and Ian sat on them, and poured water from a pail into the pool for hours. HOURS. It was very relaxing.

We had a moment of excitement - our own little nature show. One of the skinks that lives in our flowerbed was out parading around, showing off for Ian and I. All his posing attracted the attention of some little bird, and so we got to see a life and death struggle. It ended happily for the skink, who escaped into the tallish grass and lived to eat more ants and nestle among the dead leaves another day. We were very happy, and made up a song and dance for the skink:

"oh, I'm so HAAAAA-PYYYYY
that the bird didn't EEEEEAT MEEEEEEEE
(but I think I'll just HIIIDE here, just in case.)"

One of many, many excellent photos by Herschel Raney at his RNA site.