I love to cook.  I love to bake.  I guess that would be because I love to eat.  I really do.  OK – there I’ve said it.  I love to eat.  So sue me.  So throw me in Weight Watchers jail.  So mock me and gasp at this reveal.  I’ve declared, in public, I like to eat.  I always have.  Im a food junky. And I’m pretty sure if you were being totally honest you love to eat too.  It can be our little secret.  Because I am aware that in our world,  loving to eat is considered a weakness, a fault, a faux pas , a character flaw, a loss of self control, something to be ashamed of.  But no matter,  I love food (most of it).

God created food when he created the earth and he created our bodies to need to food to survive.  He put vitamins and nutrients into natural foods that our body needs for health and to flourish.  Hear me please.  Eating and loving to eat is not shameful. It is, in fact, quite normal and expected.   But a lot of us have grown up in an environment where the concept that ‘food is bad’ haunts us –  in our sleep and every time we get on the scale or visit the gym with its many gawkers and judgers.  Hey…we are at the gym.  Give us points for effort at least.

Of course, if we were living in a nation where the people are starving this would not be an issue.  I guess there in lies the problem,  we have too much.  Food shaming and body shaming is a first world problem.,We create our own problems. I like to think of food and its abundance over here in North America as a blessing.  Food is essential and food is inherently good.  The reason we love food is because it is meeting at basic human need.  There is not one human being on this earth, in any culture, in any geographic location, in any demographic that doesn’t rely on food to stay alive.  That is why a person can starve to death in 46 – 73 days days without food.  Hello?

So lets enjoy food the way it was meant to be enjoyed.  In its natural state, in moderation.  Lets cook our food with our own hands and lets share our food.  Lets enjoy our food and lets savor our food.  Lets talk about food with relish because food is a blessing.  Lets sit around the table and share our lives over food.  The reason why the natural inclination to take food to those grieving and suffering loss or taking food to those dealing with economic constraints or even to a baby shower or a bridal shower, to serving food at a wedding…having food at the office Lunch and Learn is because food meets a basic need for all humans and if that need is taken care  and food is shared it sends out a message of compassion and caring and sharing and sustenance and people are far more amicable when they are not hangry.

I think of the manna that God sent down from heaven to the Israelites.  He knew they would die without food so He provided nourishment for them.  I’m sure that Dr. Bertstein or Dr. Atkins or Dr. Hymen or the Mayo Clinic would attest to manna being far too many carbs to be taking in on a daily basis but that is what God provided and what God provides is not only good, its the best. And what God provided us with, since the beginning of time, is pure natural food to sustain us and to energize us. Its OK to enjoy food.  Its something we have to do 3 times a day…or 6 times a day according to so called experts.  So why not enjoy it and share it and have fun with it.

Back to my love of cooking. Actually we were talking about my love of eating but I also love to cook. You don’t need to love to cook to love to eat.  But I just happen to enjoy  both, immensely.  For me, to spend a day in my kitchen cooking is my idea of recreation.  Especially in this segment of my journey, I am constantly testing new recipes because first of all, I want to cook my own food.  If I cook my own food then I know exactly whats in it and I can modify ingredients to make sure I am cooking, baking and serving the healthiest version of that food.  In fact, I need to retrain myself as most of my default recipes are full of unhealthy fat, gluten, refined sugar and we have used a lot of processed food in the past.  It was easy and convenient and as addictive as cocaine. Too often I have found myself at home alone, sitting by the fireplace after a long day at work and a long drive, with my music in the background and a family size bag of Miss Vicki’s potatoe chips- Just savoring every salty crunch, eating slow and deliberate because gloriously, I have no one to share with.  Free from shame unless my husband discovers the empty bag in the trash.  (He wouldn’t be upset that I ate chips, he would be upset that he didn’t get any).  Same with popcorn.  Hot buttery popcorn.    If feels so decadently comforting and blissful. But with age comes wisdom and maturity.  And now I want to eat food that heals my body and eliminate food that impairs it with poison.  This is  going to involve a retraining in the way I cook (and eat).  I have taken it upon myself to embark on this self education.  In fact I have dedicated this year to learning to cook again.  Learning to cook for health and nutrition but also to cook for community.

I have been collecting cookbooks for a couple of years now.  I go to the discount table in the dark recesses of the book store (OK Chapters) and find all sorts of great cook books for $5 and $10.  At this price they can be less expensive than a foody magazine filled with adds. Cookbooks that I lusted over when they were $35  – $40 have found their way to clearance and into my hands and now I have a great collection to work with.  I’m always scouring the bookstore for new cookbooks.  I love looking at food and I love reading the recipes and I love to hear the authors stories of food inspiration.  I think I have garnered my own views about food from these lovers of food.  I have found affinity with these famous cooks. I recently read a book called Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist and she tells of her addiction to cookbooks.  She reads them like novels.  She says if she’s had a bad day her husband will find her in bed reading a cookbook from cover to cover so I have started to do that.  It is so gratifying.  I still need something by the Barefoot Contessa and Nigella Lawson.  I will scour the discount section once again. I will do it this long weekend.

Most of my life I have eaten food for nourishment but more so because I love food and I have to admit that I can be, in my worst version of myself, an emotional eater.  Eating for the wrong reasons.  But in actuality we are all emotional eaters because sharing food for the right reasons and enjoying community around sustenance is still an emotional need. I mean whats better than sharing good comfort food with your girlfriends?  Turning on a great chic flick and sinking  your teeth into a gooey, stringy, cheesy, tomatoey delicious pizza and just savoring each bite in-between the laughter and the comraderie? Follow this up with fresh out of the oven chocolate chip cookies downed with sugary, flavorful latte rich with foam and toppings.  Is there anything more emotionally healing?  Of course you are in your pajamas and uggs.

And what is it about the smell of toast?  Even burnt toast – I am draw to it as if in a trance.  If I smell it I want it. When I smell it I am home again wherever I am. I think I’ll go make some right now!

Did I mention I love to entertain?  I do.  And I can’t think of one incidence of entertaining where food was not involved.   I thrive on cooking for others.  Heaven forbid – if I only cooked for myself I’d be a house.  I love to cook for others and more recently, I love to be able to tell them that what they are eating is made of all natural ingredients and is good for them.  That its good for their health.  Why would I want to serve poison to people I love. You know I love you if I invite you over for dinner.  That being said – if I don’t invite you its not because I don’t love you its because I only have so much time.   Confession:  sometimes I DO still make food that contains unhealthy fat, refined sugar and lots of sticky yummy gluten and that’s because I believe in – all things in moderation.  And sometimes something bad for you is just SO good.   Plus I believe that eaten once in a while its not bad for you, its when you have a constant diet of poisonous food where the harm is done.   Often I will just bake for the sake of baking and my family will say…whose going to eat that?  I tell them I’m taking it into work – it will be gone by 10:00 am. (When you work with a lot of single, young, ravenous male engineers…)

I truly believe in the practice of cooking your own food.  At least when you cook your own food – whether it be a pie, a birthday cake, lasagna, taco’s, pasta, pizza – you know what’s being put into it and you can make better choices as far as the ingredients go and serve food without additives and preservatives and chemicals that the FDA would never approve of in a prescription form.

A day in my kitchen involves turning on some smooth jazz or a crooner of choice and pouring myself a glass of perrier (or tonic water with quinine for my nightly leg cramps) or even a glass of wine if I am making risotto.  I always don my favorite red plaid apron (I have far too many white tops with permanent tomatoe stains on them to forget to wear an apron.  In fact that’s why I picked red.).  Over the past couple of years I have also outfitted my kitchen with all the ‘make cooking fun and easy’ gadgets I could avail myself of and more recently had my husband remodel our two tiered island into a flat surface providing me with oodles of space to roll-out pie and cookie dough and to unload groceries.  Not to mention its where everyone gathers and leans in to visit and snack when they are over.  They watch me cook and I feel part of everything.  Often they jump in and help.  Very often my daughter is home and we both pull out our Kitchen Aids (which we now have much more space for) and we start cooking.  My daughter makes the most exquisite, artist, delicious sugar cookies for her friends and family.   And I am still trying to fulfill my obligation of pies once a month for some silent auction winners .

If I am by myself, I will sing or pray and reflect and solve a lot of my problems (its kind of like a good walk for me).  This is my down time, my me time.  Even though, very often, at the end of the day – after being on my feet the entire day I am exhausted but its a good exhausted.  So I’ll relieve my tiredness with a lovely, hot bubble bath accompanied by candles and dim lighting and soft music and an ice cold beverage since it gets very hot in there. Very often rose petals are involved (which my daughter brings home from her job at the floral shop).

I’ve gotten into the habit, since I am trying to eat cleaner and purer for optimum health, to cook a week’s worth of meals in one day.  Typically I will cook two dinner entree’s and one breakfast option along with various containers of chopped up raw veggies for salad.  I also like to make something sweet in case I get that craving for sweetness.  I feel its better to eat something homemade sweet than something processed.  I have replaced cows milk with almond milk. I have replaced refined sugar with raw organic sugar.  I have replaced white eggs with organic brown Omega 3 eggs. I often crush up flaxseed for its health properties and its virtually undetectable.  I’ve started to play with gluten free flour and almond flower or ½ and ½ and many loaves and muffins taste great with fresh cranberries or blueberries in them.  I also feel whole wheat flour is superior so I will play with that.  I only ever use real butter in anything.  I have replaced vegetable oil with coconut oil in all my baking.  And the results have been delectable.  Yes I’ve tossed out several flops but that is to be expected.  I did say I was experimenting.

So the cooking is done and now I am just waiting for my guests.  The candles are lit, the wine is chilling (white), the table is set with the finest I can rustle up (who am I kidding?  I have a Homesense store in my basement). These guests might be my mom coming over for her ritual Sunday afternoons and dinners or it could be our home group coming over on Wednesday night.  It could be any assortment of other couples we are privileged to call friends coming for dinner or a game night or a party.  On rare occasions it’s my kids friends. It could be my son coming home for Christmas (I need to resist the urge to go out and buy him all the junk food he craves – but hey that’s what moms do.  I have to remind myself that this could likely be the only 2 weeks of the year that he isn’t eating processed food).   It could be my kids coming home from from anywhere.  I do have to remind myself that this is not a show,  this is down home hospitality.  We are gathering to connect, to share, to eat good food, to linger around the table and laugh and cry together – to celebrate life and we do it with life’s sustenance – good food made with love.

DANIEL PLAN – TURKEY BEAN CHILI

1 tablespoon Extra-virgin Olive Oil

1 cup finely chopped celery

1 cup fine chopped carrots

1/2 green bell pepper, finely chopped

1 cup finely chopped red onion

2 tablespoons tomato paste

3 large garlic cloves, minced

1 pound ground turkey

1 Tbsp mild chilli powder

1 Tsp cumin

2 Tsp dried oregano

1/2 Tsp sea salt

1/4 tsp black pepper

1 (15 ounce) can diced tomatoes

1 (15 ounce) can red kidney beans, rinsed and drained

1 (15 ounce) can Cannellini or white Navy beans, rinsed and drained

1 cup low sodium chicken broth

METHOD:

1.) In a large pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat.  Add celery, carrot, bell pepper and onion.  Cook until soft, stirring occasionally.

2) Add tomato paste, and cook 2 minutes stirring continuously.  Add garlic and cook 1 more minute.

3) Add turkey to the pot.  Break up turkey with the back of a wooden spoon or spatula while it cooks.  Cook until turkey is no longer pink.  Add chili powder, cumin, oregano and salt and pepper.  Cook 2 minutes, allowing spices to release their flavors.  Stir once or twice.

4) Add the tomatoes, beans, and broth.  Cover and heat util chili is not and bubbly.

THIS IS THE ULTIMATE COMFORT FOOD.

How Shauna Niequist became successful by not trying to be

 

There is more than one way to waste a life. When we tell ourselves…I will really begin to live when I lose 20 pounds. Life would be even more fabulous if I lost 30 pounds. I would probably become famous because you can become famous for stuff like that these days. Life will begin when I have this much money in the bank. Or when I get that specific job. Or when I have kids or when my kids are grown and have reached a certain place in their lives and are not dependent on us anymore. (I’ve got news for ya kid, parenting never ends). I’ll started living when I don’t have to work anymore, I will really begin my life when I’m living in my dream home. (Ahem – to myself: This IS your dream home. You’re not upsizing at your age when all your peers are downsizing. That ship has sailed. Yes a ship would have been nice). I will start my real life when my spouse finally evolves into that person that reads my mind and never upsets me. When I’m living in paradise. When I’m living on easy street. When I’m the envy of all my friends. When I quit sinning and become perfect. When I can afford Valentino shoes and Louis Vuitton purses. When I can go to Europe every summer. When I have a cleaning lady. When I have no more worries. When I am the most kind, generous, humorous, intelligent, sophisticated, compassionate, wise person in any gathering. When I am invited to every gathering…and on and on the fantasy goes. When I finally get to Africa….
With that paradigm, I was in grave danger of life passing me by. Because the moments that I am breathing right now and all the moments I have breathed in the past…these ARE my life. My real life. My reality. And there is nothing wrong with this life I have been blessed with…btw.
But for some reason so much of my life has felt as if I was living in limbo. Waiting for circumstances to change (not that they were so heinous) and because of this limbo I wasted a lot of the good moments. Mostly because I didn’t recognize them as good moments – at least not until they were gone. I have been trying to teach myself the fine art of living ‘in the moment’. My theme song used to be “Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow. You’re only a day (or a month or a year) away. Or as Scarlett O’Hara is famous for saying…I don’t want to think about that today, I’ll think about that tomorrow. For tomorrow is another day.” I am endeavoring to teach myself not to put things off, not to procrastinate – Just do what needs to be done and live today.
I should be aware of every breath I take and if I can take that breath clear and free then I should bask in it. I finally realized, about 11 years ago that this IS my life. This ‘here and now’ and that ‘there and then’. So I began to live and feel every moment in time. This doesn’t mean I never think about or plan for the future but what it does mean is that I am grateful for this moment and what it is and what I am enjoying or what I am learning. I am grateful for my past and what it has blessed me with and what it has taught me. I’m even grateful for the hardship as it has brought about necessary change and increased faith.
Has my physical appearance ever hindered my enjoyment of the pink and azure sunrises? Only if I let it. Or prevented me from being soothed by the crashing waves on the shores of Kona? Has not being independently wealthy and having to work for living prevented me from feeling the notes in beautiful music or tasting the flavors in exquisite food? Has not being famous hindered my enjoyment of my gifts from God – my children (both as littles and as bigs)? I got to hear their cries and their giggles and their “I love you momma’s. And what about my husband? He chose me just the way I am and the life we have built together has been rich with love, cherishing, experiences, memories and joys. (And just for the record, I actually chose him, but he doesn’t know that so don’t tell him. It will be our little secret). We ARE rich in all the ways that are important. Even the painful and difficult is a vital part of our story. As C.S. Lewis said ‘The pain now is part of the joy then”. He was speaking about death and love but this also applies to our troubles. The pain He’s brought us through is part of the joy now. And visa versa. This IS my life and I’m living it right this moment. I am not waiting for this or that to happen before I begin to live. Even the waiting is part of the living.
I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower. I’ve wandered the gardens of the Palace of Versailles (the 8th wonder of the world in my opinion). I’ve had tea inside Buckingham Palace. I’ve cruised the Mediterranean and the French Riviera. I’ve eaten real Italian pizza and gelato on the boardwalk of Venice. I’ve walked the La Rambla’s of Barcelona. I’ve experienced the lights and excitement of Las Vegas. I’ve stayed in a Penthouse suite at the Four Seasons Hotel in California. (It was a comp room because I was working for them at the time – another lovely experience). I’ve snorkeled with the dolphins off the coast of Kona and swam with the manta rays. I’ve snorkeled in the blue waters of Cozumel amongst the sea turtles and tropical fish. I’ve been awe struck by New York at Christmas (my heart leapt for joy to be honest). I’ve walked the boardwalk in Auckland, New Zealand. Visited friends in Texas and Phoenix. We’ve been able to borrow our friends cottage to retreat from life’s storms and forge new memories with our children. I’ve felt pride at the graduations of both of my children from High school and one from University. I’ve enjoyed white Christmases in Banff, Lake Louise and at home with my family and extended family and friends. We’ve created memories on many family vacations driving through the mountains. We attended the funerals of three of our precious parents. We’ve suffered through chicken pox, asthma and emergency room injuries, hurt feelings and school stress with our children. I’ve been overwhelmed trying to run a business from home and putting my husband through university so he could train for a different career. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve been depressed. I’ve been selfish and I’ve been angry. I’ve felt all the emotions and I am far better off in retrospect.
So I am not waiting for something different before I start to enjoy today. There are a million little feelings to feel each day. A million choices to make in a life. A million lessons to be learned. A million opportunities to grow. A million blessings to enjoy. A million people’s lives to touch for the better. I don’t want to miss out on even one little experience that is part of God’s plan for me. Even if it’s difficult and painful – there is something there and it’s mine. It’s my life and I’m going to live it.

Call the Betty Ford Clinic. Or Dr. Phil or Oprah. My name is Geri and I’m addicted. My addiction is not drugs or alcohol; it’s something much more socially acceptable and possibly undetectable to the outside world. Something the world probably considers worthy of addiction. I’m just sorting out whether I am addicted to social media or whether I am addicted to the devise that perpetuates social media or both. When I am asleep at night (or not asleep because I am working out painful leg cramps) my iPhone is always within hands reach (I even bought a lovely aqua colored 5 foot rope cord so I could peruse Pinterest under the covers while lying in bed which I know you are absolutely not supposed to do). I am supposed to be sleeping but I am pinning. I can’t stop myself. Sometimes I look at my pins the next day and wonder ‘what was I thinking? I hate that”. That’s how I know this is addictive, when I am pinning in my sleep. I have read a million times (OK several) how that blue light inhibits true sleep. I also know about over stimulating your mind just before your appointed bedtime. However, I absolutely do not sleep with it touching my skin, arm, stomach, leg and I will definitely not put it under my pillow as I am terrified that the radiation or whatever will cause cancer or worse still, it will wipe my brain clean of any and all information. I could argue that keeping my iPhone on the nightstand is prudent. If I heard a burglar in the house I could call 911. No more cutting the phone lines like the criminals in the old days used to do. Not to mention there is a flashlight on my phone and a Police alarm and a camera so I could take a picture of the intruder just before they smother me with my pillow.
I don’t go anywhere without my phone – nowhere. I panic if I can’t find it or if I leave it at home. I am not sure if the panic is related to the financial implications or if is related to withdrawal. I have been unsuccessfully trying to determine what is a reasonable distance from home to make going back to get it not insane. Can I not go a day without a cellphone? Fifteen years ago I didn’t need it because it wasn’t available and somehow I managed to be able to make coffee dates with friends and be at appointments on time and make arrangements to pick kids up from school and get help for a flat tire and find out whatever I needed to know by other means. If I forgot my grocery list at home I just winged it. If I needed to talk to my husband I called him at work. Now I just text. I used to have dozens of phone numbers memorized which I am sure was great for keeping the brain sharp, but, even that has become irrelevant. As a result my brain has turned to jelly and I can’t remember anything. I walk into a room for something and cannot for the life of me remember what I came for and usually a trip back downstairs to the exact spot of the inception of the thought is required. Even then, sometimes I still can’t remember so I leave for work and as I am standing in the pouring rain, juggling my purse, my Starbucks, my tote bag with my extra shoes, reading for lunchbreak and lunch, I remember what I was looking for. My building pass. But it’s too late now.
I have a glamourous black and white checked, pink trimmed Kate Spade iPhone case that has a built in auxiliary battery in case, heaven forbid, my phone should run out of juice when I am far away from charging power. If I take a lot of pictures, and I usually do, it uses up even more power. My phone is the first thing I reach for in the morning (sorry honey) – because it is my alarm and I have to shut the snooze off every 15 minutes for an hour. This is my early rise breaking in method. I have to be up in absolutely no later than one hour from now so I need to start getting used to the idea. I am pretty sure this is not great for REM sleeping as I am just pretending to be asleep after that first alarm. Did anybody text me overnight? Did anyone put anything interesting on Facebook while I was sleeping? Did I miss out on anything? I am just clamoring for news…any news…I even fall for fake news. And most mornings I am disappointed because there is nothing new under the sun and there is no good news really. I can’t remember the last time I heard good news in the media. Most of the news flashes I see on Facebook, require a consult to SNOPES just to find out if it’s legit or not. Usually it’s not – that tells me something. I loved the one about the millions of spider eggs that were implanted into the original TY bean babies that my kids collect for years and we eventually sent to Samaritan’s purse for shoeboxes and how now, 20 years later, the eggs were hatching and spiders were pouring out of the beanie babies. Please!
In actuality, Facebook is pretty boring and I originally signed up for Facebook to keep in touch with my kids that were spattered across the globe (both of them) but now my daughter doesn’t even use Facebook (since us old foggies took over) Not to mention she is currently living at home. Snap chat’s the thing now. I can’t figure it out. That, and building an empire on Instagram, which I have to admit quite intrigues me. My son, who lives in another city, and has a hobby of movie going and always checks in on Facebook whenever he is at one so I am able to know that he is well and alive if he is checked into, yet, another movie. May I say, that is the ONLY way I know he is alive and well. These devices are phones BTW…something we tend to forget and we ARE paying through the nose for them so free long distance is a given. Had to get that off my chest.
On any typical day, my alarm goes off and I fumble for my phone and hit snooze. If it’s a day that I am going to the gym before work (at work) then I get up immediately and grab my phone and case and head to the bathroom. Yes folks, I take my phone to the bathroom with me. There isn’t that much time in the morning. A quick check of Facebook, Instagram, and my email and I usually get totally distracted. Then this voice in my spirit (not Siri) reminds me that my goal is to ‘seek first the Kingdom of God” and that talking to God should be my first order of the day so I look up the Jesus Calling app on my phone (a book written by Sarah Young that is written in the first person – God being the first person). Her whole focus is on spending more time with God and trusting him and staying close to him, each admonition accompanied by a related scripture. I don’t have time right then to pick up an actual book so this will have to do. This is another warning sign of addiction. Back when I actually had to pick up the Bible with a hardcover, a spine and tissue pages, then I just read the WORD…now with the Bible app on my phone it’s too easy to not actually make it to opening the app if I happen to see a little red number on any of the other icons.
My alarm goes off a few more times as I am getting ready for work and then just before I pull out of the garage I look one more time in case anyone else is up at this ungodly hour sending me texts or posting earth shattering news. Not that earth shattering news is appropriate to be posted on Social Media. That kind of new requires a phone call or a face-to-face meeting. But I really try not to look at my phone when I am driving so I drop it in my purse so that on the off chance that I get stopped for anything I would have to dig around for a few minutes to produce my phone thereby proving that I am not distracted driving.
Ha…just because my phone is buried at the bottom of my purse doesn’t mean I am not distracted driving. With the thoughts and problems and solutions and rehearsals that go on in my mind while I am driving – not to mention the singing and the drinking of Starbucks and the adjusting my clothes – I AM distracted. Don’t report me to the police but sometimes I arrive at my destination and I don’t know how I got there. Sometimes I arrive at the wrong destination and wonder why my car took me there. And if I have a girlfriend, daughter or mother as a passenger and I am talking with my free hand then I am most certainly distracted driving. Although I have read that people that sing when they are driving are better drivers than most. Just as I read that people that talk with their hands are highly creative and intelligent.
I did an experiment one month where I took myself off Facebook and Instagram and in all honesty I did not miss it. Once I knew it wasn’t going to be a part of my routine I just found other ways to inform and distract myself and other things to be obsessive about…. like Pinterest. Seriously though. I did not miss it. I removed the apps from my iPad and my iPhone and for whatever reason, I have never been able to get the Facebook app back on my iPad. That’s probably a good thing. Thank goodness I never got into tweeting. Just one more way to solidify the addiction. The whole concept of sending a ‘tweet’ sounds absolutely bizarre to me anyway. ‘Hey there, I’ll tweet you’. Did the whole tweet thing come from the old axiom “a little birdy told me”? If I tweeted at work would it be called twerking?
My iPad finds its nighttime home on the floor next to my bed as well. Too bad there isn’t an app for a weapon..…you know, for protection against that burglar that’s in my house. Oh yeah, we have gun control in this country. Truth: There is far too much information and news – a lot of it inaccurate – available to us. We can barely process it correctly. And so we process it incorrectly. But there is life outside and above social media and iPhones and iPads. There are real people. Electronics and social media have their place and can be used for good when not used for evil. All of it is truly amazing when you really stop and think about it. I just have to work out a reasonable, doable plan to withdraw myself from the addiction. We can lose true connection with real people when we rely on electronic relationships. There was a movie out called SHE where the main character fell in love with his computer’s operating system. Literally fell in love with the voice and character of an operating system. I mean, do operating systems even have character?? I left the theatre thinking this was absolutely ridiculous but sad to say that’s what has come of our generation.
One of my favorite features of the iPhone is the ability to take pictures and save them and instantly use them on Social Media or print them out. It’s like magic and I am totally intrigued. Very much like flying for me. Once that huge chunk of metal is in the air I just can’t fathom how it stays up there. Of course if I read a book on aerodynamics I might understand it better but I like the idea of magic or God just lifting it off the ground with his huge strong hands and guiding it to its destination.
Not to mention the anger and frustration we exhibit when this tiny little device made of up of metal and chips and other magical stuff doesn’t do what we want it to, exactly when we want it to. It’s almost more amazing than an airplane, when you think of its sending millisecond signals to a satellite in outer space and those signals returning almost instantaneously.
In any case, I must give my head a vigorous shake. I should know better than to let this tiny, flat, 2 ½ by 5 inch piece of wire, metal, glass and electronics rule my life. I think it’s time to implement some rigid parameters. Guidelines that would allow me to use my technology for good and not evil.

And I haven’t told you the half of it. I didn’t tell you how I text my husband when he is upstairs in his man cave and I am downstairs in my studio to inform him that my computer is acting up or not. I didn’t tell you how I text my daughter from bed when I don’t want to get out from underneath the cozy covers to bring me a drink please. I didn’t tell you how Mike texted me, when he was teetering from the top rung of a very tall ladder about to fall to his demise, to come out to the garage and save him. Thankfully his phone was on his person in a pocket he could reach without upsetting the delicate balance of his predicament. So I guess that was a very good thing, this time.

Some Ideas to save myself from myself might be:
• If I wouldn’t say it to someone’s face then don’t say it on Social Media
• Being a Christ follower that is endeavoring to Seek first His Kingdom my phone should not be the first thing I look at in the morning. Charge it in the kitchen overnight and keep the Bible by my bed instead. (The Word is a weapon afterall). Get a real alarm clock.
• Limit my use of Pinterest, Facebook and Instagram. Limit my time spent on my devices. (Maybe this is what God meant in the Word when He said He would give us up to our own devices).
• Spend more time using my iPhone as a phone and inviting people for face-to-face coffee or dinner. Work on my real relationships.
• Don’t believe everything I see and hear and read on Social Media. If I want truth – go to the Word.
• Pursue live hobbies such as sewing, painting, cooking, music, exercise, writing and spend less time checking my phone.
• When at home do not use the Bible app. Pick up the actual book and read it and turn pages and highlight revelations and write in the margins and stop and pray to the real God.
• Do not take iPhone to bed – ever.

Seriously, I white knuckled it all the way to work this morning. I tried to pray and I tried to sing, I tried to solve all of life’s problems but just couldn’t. (Of course had I not been distracted by the danger I could have solved all of life’s problems) but I needed to concentrate on the task at hand. My eyes and thoughts were fixed on the road ahead of me and beside me and behind me because you never know from which direction someone else will spin out and put you in a coma or at least a neck brace. Not to mention damaging my one and only vehicle that gets me everywhere I need to go….To Infiniti and beyond.
Yesterday I left the house at 5:00am to get to the gym by 5:30 and I did. But this morning I left at my regular time (15 minutes late) and the traffic was Ca–razy. And the ice – for a moment I thought I took a wrong turn and ended up at the Columbia Ice Fields except I didn’t see any bombardier ice vehicles (which I really could have used BTW). Approaching one red light I had those breaks on hard, they were pumping and grinding like than a pole dancer at Cowboys and freaking me out but finally my Infiniti came to stop – right in the middle of the intersection. I had passed the crosswalk and collected the $200. (If only).
I’m pretending to steer but, in fact, the car is just doing whatever the deeply embedded grooves will allow it. Why am I even behind the steering wheel I thought? I guess because that’s the only way I will make connection with the gas pedal. Speaking of which I really didn’t want to step on the gas pedal – it’s a scary experience in these conditions. Of course I have High Blood Pressure. Why wouldn’t I have high blood pressure? Monday morning I thought I was driving through a winter wonderland and was content to be stuck in bumper to bumper traffic as it was nice and slow and that I can handle. But today I was oblivious to the beauty (except that burgundy, hot pink, purple and blue sunrise on the horizon dotted by a million sparkling jewel lights). Ok…enough of that nonsense. Eyes on the road.
I found myself longing for a red light so I could re-adjust the multiple layers of clothing ones wears when its -35 with wind-chill. You know that panic when you feel constrained because you are sitting on your coat the wrong way and you cannot move your arm? I managed to get a moment to undo my seat belt and pull my coat and whatever other garments were mummifying me, out from under me and push myself in a more focused upright position, requiring me to move the seat further forward to make sure I had a good connection to the brake and the gas pedal. This was a battle and I had to be prepared. I was doing pretty good until I came to the corner of Blackfoot and 58th and was the lucky recipient of a turning light. The turning light came on about 6 cars in front of me and I thought, I’ll never make it and I can wait until the next turning light but all the cars in front of me made it through and there was a semi behind me so… I had to go. It was glare ice so took a deep breath and turned wide and slow (sort of felt like I was in one of those slow motion car wreck scenes from the Fast & Furious) and made it through while the arrow was still green and blinking. After I started to breathe again, my eyes caught sight of the yellow CANA sign on our building and I knew I was in the home stretch. I turned two more icy corners and the Infiniti came to rest in my favorite parking spot. I turned off the lights and undid my seat belt pushed my seat back and just sat there breathing deeply and thanking the Lord that I was at  a standstill, still alive, Infiniti still in same condition as when I left home. Now I know what SULLY felt like when he landed that plane in the Hudson River.

When my children were quite small I belonged to several groups at our church. I eagerly signed up because both groups were offering babysitting which left me free to sit at the refined table of my peers taking in a bible study or making a craft and enjoying a lovely hot beverage. Usually these crafts were elementary compared to what I was churning out at home but I didn’t care. That wasn’t the point. I do remember one morning painting was involved and absentmindedly (which was how I did a lot of things back then) I was dipping my paint brush in someone’s coffee thinking it was water. When I saw her reach for it to take a sip I bellowed ‘don’t drink that’ to the surprise and shock of everyone at the table nearly spilling the cup a ruining everyone’s works of art. AH, but I digress…. One of these groups was called MOPS which was an acronym for Mothers of Preschoolers. I cleverly joined the executive of this group so I wouldn’t have to be on the babysitting team (although I think we did eventually hire younger and older women without children to do the babysitting). Being on the executive meant organizing our gatherings and socials. I usually thrived on being involved. I needed an outlet for the creative ideas which were oozing our of every pore of my body. We had decided to have a brunch for the moms (made by the moms), sort of a potluck kind of deal. We wanted it to be something none of us were too familiar with in this season of our lives…elegant. A deviation from eating the rest of the kids cheerios off the floor or drinking the rest of their Sunny Delight (Yikes – edible oil product) out of a sticky Batman sippy cup as you ran out the door half dressed with a curler still in your hair. I’m sure the menu probably included fruit salad, quiche, cheeses/grapes…that sort of thing. I suggested we have scones, complete with devonshire cream and lovely homemade jam. And where, pray tell, were we getting the homemade jam? I volunteered to raid my mother’s pantry. We laid out the menu to the moms and then asked for volunteers for each item. I am sure the scone volunteers thought they were getting away easy. I passed out the exact recipe I wanted them to use for the scones (I didn’t want any of these rock hard white hockey pucks showing up). I was a bit bossy and arrogant when I think of it now. I also instructed them to bake the scones the morning of the brunch. Get up early and make them fresh and bring them warm. The way they looked at me you’d have thought I had antennae sticking out of my head and one eye in the middle of my face. What? True British scones had to be fresh and melt in your mouth. Off you go, I shooed them away.

Well the morning of the brunch arrived and I set the alarm early to make my scones. As I gathered the ingredients together I realized I there was not a speck or crumb of baking powder in the pantry. Not even an empty box. Hello? Scones are the sophisticated cousin of baking powder biscuits. I couldn’t possibly make scones without baking powder. The stores weren’t open yet and besides, by the time I got a 2 year old and a 6 year old ready to go to the store, not to mention myself, well…just not happening. If you are/were a mom, you know what I mean. I urgently called up my dear friend who lived in close proximity in the neighborhood. I timidly asked if she had any baking powder I could use for the scones. She was also involved in the brunch and she just howled when she learned of my predicament. The high and mighty scone organizer didn’t think to check her supply of baking powder the night before? Sadly, I did not. When she finished laughing, my friend agreed to send her 9 year son over on his bike with the much coveted baking powder. When he arrived, I threw open the door to give him a hug and PONGO, our brainless Dalmatian bolted through the space and tore into the park across the street. He was always looking for ways to escape. I most certainly did not have time for this. I asked my delivery boy to stay in the house with the kids while I ran over to the park in my pajamas and cajoled our family pet to come home. He was not falling for it. I ran back to the house to get the leash and some dog treats. If I wanted to get the leash on him, first I was going to have to catch him. I am sure the neighbors were enjoying their breakfast entertainment immensely. Finally I managed to wrestle the unruly spotted canine to the ground by the collar and stuffed him full of treats. I latched the leash to his collar and stood up straight and said ‘heel’. He had no idea what I was talking about – he wasn’t trained. Although, he must have understood some connotation of word ‘heel’ as he dug his own heels (do dogs have heels?) into the ground and decided he wasn’t going anywhere. I was pulling on the leash with all my strength and his paws were digging up dirt trenches in the grass as I tried to inch him toward the edge of the park. I don’t know how I finally got him back in the yard because he was far too huge to actually pick up. He was probably loving this game. He’d never had so much fun in his life – which was getting shorter by the moment I might add. I spent many wasted hours chasing that dog around the neighborhood, looking for him, not looking for him, hoping he was lost forever. I remember one time when he was nowhere to be found, I finally resigned myself to ‘not finding him’ and was starting to imagine my glorious life without the dumber half of dumb and dumber and the phone rang. It was the SPCA “somebody found your dog and brought him to the shelter, would you like to come and pick him up and pay $100 for the shots we had to give him in order to let him mingle with the rest of the dogs?” NO – I would not. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how somebody caught that crazy animal and was able to stuff him into a car. Jeesh.

Where was I? Oh yes…the brunch. Somehow I eventually managed to get my scones baked, the kids ready and dash off for the brunch. I was a bit late but, by God, my scones were fresh. In fact they were still warm. There was still steam rising from the basket of buttery biscuits laced with dried cranberries and white chocolate when I entered the church. While I was arranging my scones on the brunch table, I overheard a couple of moms giggling and whispering amongst themselves. They were just close enough or loud enough for me to realize that they were mocking me. They had pulled the wool over my eyes. They had made their scones the night before and waited until morning to bake them while they were getting ready. Why didn’t I think of that?

SCONES

2 cups flour
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 Tablespoon baking powder (for the love of 1 TBSP of baking powder)
1/2 Teaspoon salt
1/2 Teaspoon baking Soda
1/2 Cup of butter
1/2 Cup sour creme
1/4 Cup milk
Dried Cranberries and white chocolate chunks – to taste.

Combine flour, sugar, BP, salt and BS. Cut butter in finely (with hands). Combine sour creme and milk in another dish then make a well in the dry mixture and pour in the sour creme and milk. Stir with a fork and eventually use your hands to make a soft, slightly sticky dough. Gather in a ball and on a lightly floured surface pat the ball flat (1/2 thick). Cut out circles with a glass cup. Use any size you prefer. Place on a baking sheet (I now use parchment paper) and brush tops with milk and sprinkle sugar. Bake at 350% for 15-20 minutes. Don’t let them get brown. Brown edges only.

TIP: Make them in the evening and bake them the morning of your event