Young Love

It was a dark and stormy night. Suspense music filled the air. Somewhere, the sound of glass breaking echoed through the halls. Thus begins the tale of how two now-Holler-dwellers met and fell in love.

Just kidding. Our relationship didn't begin on a dark and stormy night. It began on a crisp, fall evening at a hayride. Or, it tried to begin there. It didn't actually begin until four months later. At a Rook party in February. Or it tried to begin there. It didn't actually actually begin until a few weeks later over a group dinner at a nearby restaurant. (Perhaps I'll take some time this week to tell you the story of how it all began . . . )

Fast-forward a bit, and here we are celebrating eight years of wedded bliss this week. Happy anniversary to my one-and-only (who doesn't read this blog)!

Power of Suggestion, Part Deux

I've been hovering around my pre-pregnancy weight quite a bit lately, although those last 2-3 pounds continue to allude me (I know, I know--it's been two years already!). I have an addiction to sweets (admission is the first step to recovery, right?) that I just can't shake.

I try to starve the addiction by not bringing sugary confections into the house, but even that doesn't always work because "from scratch" ingredients bide their time in my cupboards. Cookies, especially, have been on my mind lately. This may have something to do with the "C is for Cookie" song that Kieran continually plays on one of his toys.

I've successfully resisted the urge to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookes for about a week now. And then yesterday, a friend posted something about baking cookies in her Facebook status update. And I could resist no longer. And so tonight, my waistline sighed as I whipped up several dozen chocolate-chip-and-peanut-butter-chip cookies which will be consumed over the next few days (if I'm good--if not, they'll be gone tomorrow).

Becauase wheat flour was the main flour I had on-hand, they were made with said flour type, slightly diminishing the anticipated enjoyment (but increasing the health benefit, right?). As Seth said, however, upon trying one, "Down them with a glass of milk and they taste fine."

Someday, I'll reach my goal weight. Just not today.

Fall, is that you?

I surely hope so.

The Power of Suggestion

Our evening Bible study at church was on Psalm 100 and how it pertains to Christian worship. One of the discussion questions was to list the attributes of God given in this Psalm and describe them. When asked to define the "goodness" of God, an older gentlement replied, "Fried chicken and mashed potatoes on a Sunday afternoon."

While I didn't debate the merits (or lack thereof) of comparing the Creator's goodness to food, I did get in the mood for fried chicken and mashed potatoes. As did Seth. 

And so, after the Bible study was finished, we jumped in the car, briefly debated the best and closest place to get fried chicken and mashed potatoes (which is apparently not Golden Corral, according to Seth), and then drove 20 minutes to the nearest KFC.

 Where we did not indulge in the 8-piece grilled chicken bucket but instead got the other kind. Extra crispy.

I'm not a huge fan of KFC (I usually refer to the fastfood restaurant as Kentucky Fried Chicken Tumors), but tonight, since that was the only option, I was willing to let go of my fears so that my fried chicken cravings could be satisfied.

And they were. Amen and amen.

Eternity

I was reminded again today that eternity is just a heartbeat away for any of us.

We met Wyatt and his family at the Wheels for Williams event in May--we saw them again at the WSA national conference in St. Louis. Wyatt was their WS son and had been through quite a lot in his young life. Today he was admitted to the hospital for an operation and went into cardiac arrest during the operation (as an aside, there's a known risk--as a result of "unexplained deaths"--in putting children with WS under general anethesia). He died while being air-lifted to another hospital. We're grieving along with our friends.

Although I have a link to the "good news" about eternity on the side of the blog, I would be remiss and unloving if I didn't ask you directly: Do you know for certain that you will go to heaven when you die? There are no "if I dies"--only "when." And, despite what you may have heard, eternity does wait for you after death--what you choose on this side of death determines whether you will spend it in heaven or in hell.

I would be even further remiss and unloving if I didn't share with you how you can know for certain that you will go to heaven when you die. I'll do so by pasting a section from a new children's booklet I'm working on:

In the beginning, God made a “very good” world (Genesis 1:31). He made Adam, Eve, and the animals, and gave them plants to eat. But God said they couldn’t eat from one special tree. God said the punishment for disobedience was death (Genesis 2:17).


Instead of obeying God, Adam and Eve sinned. They disobeyed God’s command and ate from the forbidden tree (Genesis 3). Since that time, each person is born a sinner and disobeys God (Romans 3:23). We all deserve to be eternally separated from God in a terrible place called hell when we die (Romans 6:23). But God offers us a wonderful gift—life with Him in heaven forever!

God sent His son, Jesus Christ, to earth. Jesus lived a perfect life. But He was put to death on the Cross, paying the penalty for sin on behalf of mankind. He rose again three days later, showing that God had accepted His sacrifice. When we repent of our sins and believe that Jesus died in our place, we receive the gift of salvation from our sin (Acts 20:21; Ephesians 2:8–9; Romans 10:9–10). We become a child of God forever!  

Make no mistake, all roads do not lead to heaven. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). Faith in Jesus alone provides the way to eternal life. “Nor is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).

I know for certain that I'll be spending eternity with God in heaven--not because of anything I've done or any inherent goodness in me--my salvation rests in the finished work of Christ on the cross on my behalf.

What's your choice?

How do you spell relief?

C.O.L.D.F.R.O.N.T.

That's how we spell relief in the Holler in the middle of the summer doldrums.

An oppressive heat wave has been sitting over our area for the past week, making it miserable for one to even step foot outside. Yesterday, a welcome cold front came through bringing with it rain and relief from the heat.

It was a lovely 70 degrees with low humidity this morning, so after we took the recyclables to the recycling place, Kieran and I went for a walk down the newly paved lane.

We'll enjoy the (relatively) cooler weather while it lasts (which, according to the weathermen, won't be long).

Party in the Holler

One of the nice things about living in the Holler is that there is plenty of room for people to park when one hosts a large party. Not that we've ever hosted a large party before, but it's nice to know the space is there should we need it.

One of the downsides to living in the Holler is that there is plenty of room for people to park when one's neighbor hosts a large party. As happened Friday night. Their oldest boys, twins, celebrated their 21st birthday in true Holler style.

The neighbor kindly asked permission to use some of our parking space for their party, and we kindly consented as we weren't planning on needing it at that moment. Apparently, they decided to take over more than just the parking space, as we woke to this in our front lawn Saturday morning.

Seth didn't ask any questions; he just quietly threw the empty beer bottles and shirt (?) into the trash. A party is a party, but a party in the Holler . . . . (If you aren't familiar with the Gwyneth Paltrow Emma movie, then never mind that last sentence.)

Waiting, Waiting

While Kieran and I were in Florida, Seth so very kindly took care of the chickens--the little ones inside and the bigger ones outside. Although the little chicks became old enough to be put outside in the pen with the bigger chicks while I was away, I wanted to wait until l returned so that I could better manage their transition (and referee, if necessary, as the pecking order was established).

Last Thursday, Etta (left) and Emma (right) took up permanent residence outside in the Eglu. As of this Friday, they'll be 9 weeks old. Etta and Emma are Rhode Island Reds and should eventually lay brown eggs.

For those of you who are confused on just how many, and which, chickens I currently have now that the dust from the raccoon raids has settled, they joined Chiclet (above) and Henrietta (below). They will celebrate their 18th week of life next Monday.

These two are Easter Eggers and should eventually lay green or blue eggs.

I say eventually because I have yet to receive any eggs from any of my current chickens. Henrietta and Chiclet are the closest to the point of lay, and I'm hoping they'll celebrate their 18th week by laying an egg or two.

Several months ago, when I still had chickens that were laying eggs, Beth (who makes cakes and goes through 3 dozen eggs a week!) gave me a stack of egg cartons in which to store my ready supply of eggs. And then the raccoons came and my egg supply died out (da dum dum). And since then, the egg cartons have been waiting, waiting in the closet until the time comes when they can do their job and safely hold the eggs collected from my chickens.

Let the egg-laying commence!

21 Months

I can't believe he's almost 2.

Free Book

Brace yourself for some news: growing up, I attended a public school. (Collective gasp from the crowd.) The good news is that this is not a post about my views on schooling children--I'll save that for another time.

A book fair was held yearly (if not twice yearly) at my elementary school. When the time came, we'd all gather at one end of the gym or the cafeteria and look down the long rows and rows of tables that held books. We were allowed to choose one book to take home with us. One. Book fairs always caused me some consternation because, of the hundreds of books available, I was only allowed to choose one. Who on earth would give a child such responsibility? How could a child know which book was the best one to choose?

I took my book-choosing responsibility seriously and would wander among the tables piled high with books, glancing over each one and mentally noting those I thought would be good additions to my library. Usually, I was one of the last to finish choosing, after much deliberation and listing the pros and cons of the final few I'd narrowed my choices down to.

My past came flooding back into my mind a few days ago. Our local library sponsored a summer reading program in which I enrolled Kieran. Prizes were earned for every 10 books a child read (or, more correctly, read to the child). We had read 50 books and so stopped by the library to pick up our prizes. One of those prizes was a free book, chosen from a shelf full of books. Although the field was much narrower than the rows of tables in elementary school, I still felt that overwhelming responsibility of choosing just. one. book. One.

And so, Kieran tugging on my hand and begging to run around, I methodically made my way through the stack of books, weighing the merits of each one. Did I want one about a safari in Africa? Animals in the barnyard? What type of book would benefit Kieran the most? In the end, I choose the book pictured above--a book about animal mothers who love their babies. And I breathed a sigh of relief that the book-choosing process was once again complete.

The day civilization came to the Holler

Here's a view you haven't seen for awhile. Notice anything different from the last time I posted a view out my kitchen window?

Here's another view of the lane. Notice the change now?

While we were sunning ourselves and firming our arms in Florida, civilization--in the form of a paved road--came to the Holler. No longer can we tell people the way to our house is "down the hill, across the one-lane bridge, and a right onto the gravel road." Of course, no longer will we need to regularly replace the suspension on our cars after driving them repeatedly over and around the ever-enlarging potholes that lined the lane.

In a way, I'll miss the old gravel road. Its presence heralded one's arrival into the Holler, signaling to one and all that this was no ordinary subdivision into which they were driving. The yards filled with cars and the feuding neighbors made sense at the end of a gravel lane. I'm not sure purchasing a pig to spite your neighbor works when a paved road is involved. Perhaps not surprisingly, the reason the road hasn't been paved before now is thanks to the lady who guards the entrance to the Holler--she's maintained for years that if the lane were paved, all of us Hollerites (most of whom she's feuding with) would drive 50 mph . . . and somehow that's a bad thing. It's almost as if we'll need to change our way of life to match the now-civilized lane.

Seth is already lamenting the days of yore, when life was simpler and we didn't have a gravel driveway. Soon enough, I suppose, we'll have city water, cable television, and (gasp) cell phone reception. An iPhone in the Holler? Perish the thought.

Bye-bye, Beach

We went again to the beach last night to say a final farewell before returning to the Holler tomorrow morning.

Cake (again)

Somewhere along the way, during my sister's wedding preparations, I may have somehow volunteered to make her wedding cake. She wanted a fondant-covered 2-layer cake with 8 dozen cupcakes. The cupcakes I was confidant I could pull off. However, I've never worked with fondant before and wondered (again) what I'd gotten myself into. Having watched a few episodes of Ace of Cakes, Ultimate Cake-offs, and other cake-oriented TV shows on the Food Network, I figured fondant couldn't be that difficult to work with but that I should probably practice a few times before doing the actual cake for the wedding.

I never practiced. And this time, Katy wasn't available to bail me out. 

Although she was very available to send me helpful hints and suggestions for the cupcake icing. After trying several store-bought icings (including one from Wilton) on the cupcakes, none had given me the fluffy swirl I was looking for. Katy suggested using a white chocolate icing. And so I did. And it worked. Beautifully and deliciously. I'll post her recipe for those who are interested:

Melt 6-8 oz. white chocolate, stir smooth and allow to cool a while, but not harden.

Put in mixer bowl and whip until smooth:

1c. shortening

2 lbs 10x sugar

Pinch of salt dissolved in 1/2c. milk

Melt 4 T. butter in microwave, and drizzle it over the icing mixture while whipping.

When the white choc is cool, whip it into this mixture. If it is still too thick, add milk 1 T at a time.   

I made 8 dozen cupcakes on Thursday morning and iced them that afternoon. They kept well until the wedding on Saturday afternoon.

On Friday, I began the process of learning how fondant worked. And this is how it turned out.

It was a rather simple design, and I used an actual ribbon rather than making one out of fondant. It's certainly not like my friend Beth's recent beautiful cake, but it worked for my sister's wedding.

Note to self: Take a class on working with fondant before volunteering to do a fondant-covered cake.

The Wedding

It may not have been the most famous wedding to take place on July 31, 2010 but it was certainly the most beautiful with the most beautiful bride.

Since her wedding was at 11am, the festivities began early.

Soon enough, it was time for pictures.

Kieran was the ring bearer, although during the actual walk down the aisle, I was the one carrying the pillow while holding his hand, telling him to "Look for Daddy...find Daddy...", and dragging him toward Seth who was waiting for him in the front pew.

The ceremony was lovely and the reception was held a local Italian restaurant.

It was a nice time of fun and fellowship with friends and family from all over.

Kieran spent some time bonding with my Uncle Steve (who, by the way, is an apiarist himself) and learning about the intricacies of his camera.

Kenda's long-time BFF Andrea made the trek from up north to participate in the celebrations.

Seth especially enjoyed the tiramisu.

A good time was had by all. Congratulations, Kenda and Nate!