Beside the still waters and bicycling against the wind. It's all good

Camping season began for us last week.  Took our first trip to the lake for a few days.  The weather cooperated magnificently.  

During a conversation with a friend of mine I mentioned that we were planning to camp at a nearby lake.  He said "Why in the world would you drag your camper 25 miles away when you could just stay at your house and enjoy your lovely back yard?".  That's a valid question from a non-camper.  But if you're a seasoned camper, you know the answer.  I don't need to explain.  

Our daughter gave us a sign for decor in our RV that has the words "....He leads me beside quiet waters."  Ps 23:2.  

Quiet waters.  The peaceful presence of the Creator.  Taking long walks through the woods surrounded by evidence of His glory and majesty.  Lord of all creation, of water, earth and sky.... Leaving the cares of life behind and just hanging out with the One who has it all under control.  

It's how we recharge our batteries.  Time of renewal.  

No leaves on the trees and brown surroundings might make you think there's no beauty to be seen.  Check out what was visible because of the lack of foliage and greenery:  

Note the cool looking plate-like fungi formations on this tree.  Don't you think it looks like a place setting for squirrels?  We might not have seen this dining room for rodents if the trees and bushes were dressed in their summer greenery.

Speaking of rodents, we came across this trapped rodent.  Identification, anyone?       

So, what else do non-fisher people like us do when we camp?  It was too early in the season for riding our jet ski or swimming.  

We hooked up an old TV outside our camper, utilized our Verizon hotspot, and....did what all college basketball junkies do.  We watched Wichita State and KU basketball play in the Big Dance.  (The Cats had already left the dance or we would have watched them too)   It was a perfect setting for watching the games. 

And.  We rode our bicycles.  Last year while camping in Oklahoma, it seemed like a good idea to purchase el-cheapo bikes from a Walmart nearby.  Here is mine:

When I'm riding it, the hubby and my son-in-law immediately start humming the Wizard of Oz tune that goes along with the witch riding her bike.  Which doesn't necessarily amuse me.   The bike is cute, and it was cheap.  Little basket on the handlebars, cup holder, even has a cellphone holder!!   Those are its only redeeming qualities.  It is only designed for flat-lands and non-windy days.  I think the tires are too fat.  Uh, perhaps it's really ME that's too fat.  Whatever, it is ridiculously difficult to pedal.  Even my quite athletic daughter had trouble with it.  My friend Georgia has recommended that I get some sort of battery operated pedal assist gadget that will help move the pedals on slopes and in high wind.  She's thinking of getting one.  Sounds tempting. 

we were blessed with such gorgeous sunsets!!

The worst part of camping is always packing up and returning home.  The best part of coming back home is planning our next camping trip.  

We have camping fever and I have no intention of looking for a cure.  

Camping is the cure.  It takes us away from everyday stresses and adjusts our perspective in a way that makes life much better.   Therapy by none other than the One who designed us in the first place.   Good medicine.   

  

Employment Enjoyment

What was your first job?  Mine was probably babysitting my cousins.  But my first real job was the summer between my 8th and 9th grade years of school, if memory serves  me.  

Pioneer Seeds came to our fair little city of Minneapolis Kansas towards the end of the school year offering a gold mine opportunity for those wanting a summer job.  $1.40 per hour.  Boys and/or girls, equal pay.  I couldn't suppress my excitement at making that kind of cash and I eagerly signed up, along with many classmates. We were going to own Minneapolis by the time summer ended.  

The appeal of cash was more important than the details of the job, and with that kind of money dangled in front of me I just signed up without reading the fine print.  Day one arrived and we were loaded up in school buses and hauled out into the countryside where they unloaded us into massive fields of corn. Too far from town to run home.  

Turns out we were hired to walk down rows of corn and reach to the top of every  corn stalk and pull out the tassels.  I'm pretty vague on all things agricultural but it seems like this is some sort of plant life reproductive system deal. Involving pollination perhaps? The word hybrid comes to mind, but I may be way off. 

 Money.  I was there for the money.  

 Anywho, I found myself in a field of corn with about 20 of my closest friends. There I was, all of 5 foot tall, peering up at the top of corn stalks and wondering exactly how to reach those tassels.  I think maybe we chopped sucker stalks away from the base of the corn stalks too and with my vertical challenge that may have been my main task.  But I know I pulled some tassels out also.  On the shorter stalks.

The rows were often muddy from the irrigation system.  It seems like maybe the irrigation system even started up once while we were walking the rows.   There was always the threat of seeing rats or snakes although I don't recall seeing either.  We girls tried to make the job more fun by singing at the top of our lungs as we worked the rows.  And laughing hysterically at the lyrics we could make up.  It was kind of fun. 

I don't recall how many weeks we were hired on to work, but I do recall that well before the intended duration of the job was completed I developed allergies.  Either to corn pollen or work.  Either way, the checking account I opened prior to starting the job seemed pretty pointless.  I used the money I earned to buy a purse.  Not to carry money... probably just kleenex.  I did have allergies, after all.  Allergies, and no money.  And later that summer on a shopping trip I actually left that purse unattended in a Salina department store where it was quickly stolen.  Never to be seen again.  

Oh what a gold mine that cornfield job turned out to be.  

That was my first job.  And now I'm sort of semi-retired from my long career as a radiologic technologist.  Taking x-rays in a hospital and/or clinic setting for over 40 years.  I have no regrets.   It's been a rewarding and fulfilling career though not without occasional ickiness and challenges, of course. Every job has challenges and ickiness.    Attitude is everything, though.  

We live in a new housing development with lots of construction going on.  Last summer I went for a walk through the neighborhood and was greeted by a happy smiling young man driving a truck slowly to a construction site.  He smiled, waved and said "Hello, how are you today?"  We didn't have a long conversation but I was impressed with how pleasant and friendly he was. Clearly a happy employee.  Probably using his skills to build beautiful homes for happy families.

I assumed he was a carpenter on a new home, but then I looked closer at the truck he was driving.  It was a tank truck.  The writing on the tank indicated it was a septic cleaning service.  For porta potties.  Of which there were several at the various construction sites.  

This friendly, pleasant man was removing human waste from portable toilets.  

And happy to do so.

I think I heard him singing funny songs with made-up lyrics as he drove off.  😁

Yes, attitude is everything.  

And the corn is as high as an elephant's eye.  🎵   🎵

Oh what a beautiful morning.... sing it, people!  

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,"  Colossians 3:23

The Doorkeeper of the waiting room.

This past Saturday I went on a girls' road trip with friends to the Pioneer Woman Mercantile in Pawhuska, Oklahoma.  Very cool place, you should go there.  Cute little town, lots of character.  The Merc opened last fall and has been wildly popular.  Wildly is putting it mildly.  Averages 6000 customers daily during the week.  On the weekend? Upwards to 15,000 in a day. The population of Pawhuska is 3,666 fine friendly country folks.  Okies are the friendliest folks on the planet.  I mean it!!

So....the Merc was packed with people.  There were lines of people outside waiting to just get inside the restaurant section, with estimated wait time of 2 hours.  Two Hours.  120 minutes.  One hundred twenty minutes.  Far far too long for us chicks to wait.  As it turned out we innocently cut into a line we didn't know existed,  and entered the store/bakery section while the doorkeeper's head was turned.    Of course we never made it to the restaurant section.  Enjoyed superb baked pastries and luscious coffee instead.  

It's one thing to wait in line for a fun event, or to eat a fancy meal.  Pretty insignificant compared to other "waiting rooms" we might find ourselves in from time to time.  You've spent time in your own waiting room, I'm certain of that. So have I.  

Both of my daughters and their husbands were  very eager to become parents. But parenthood isn't a quick process for every couple.   Between both couples there were eleven years total for me in that stressful waiting room.    With prayerful consideration, adoption was the route they both chose to take.  For both of them, it was a roller coaster of emotions.  Lots of "why" and "hurry up" type prayers. While you wait.  And wait and wait.  I found myself trying to cheer them on from the spectator section. Often it felt like I was right there with them on that wild roller coaster ride. The excitement of our first grandson's adoption was indescribable.  But the roller coaster continued to operate for my youngest.

One particular morning during our youngest daughter's wait to adopt, I had a meltdown of epic proportions and found myself sobbing and crying out to God, begging Him to please make my girl a mommy.  Seeing her pain was breaking my heart.   I cried out to God, telling Him that I seriously did not think I would survive if she wasn't able to be a mother.  I cried aloud to Him that I trusted Him as much as I possibly could, but my faith was weak.  

Mainly, I just cried.  And cried.  Sobbing to the point I wasn't sure I could stop. 

In an attempt to just get a grip and stop weeping, I opened my devotional book for the day.  It was a healthy living/diet type book with scriptural content.  Surely that would distract me from my despair and stop the waterworks.  A total change of subject to change my focus was what I needed.  Words on dieting should do the trick, I hoped.

I opened up the devotional book to that day's message on food and exercise and this is what I read:
The scripture was from Ps 139:13-14.  "...you knit me together in my mother's womb...." And then the comments for the day:
    "Perhaps you are knitting a sweater as you await a grandchild's birth.  You have not seen his face, but you know he is a boy.  You knit each stitch and pray for your grandson.  You already  love him and know that he will be a delight to his parents...But God is doing much more to prepare.  He is creating this little boy and knitting his cells together in the womb.  He has plans and a purpose for this little life."   

Well, that stopped my tears.  I had no idea what these words had to do with dieting or a healthy lifestyle, but there was no doubt in my mind Who had intended for me to read them.  I actually looked around the room expecting to see Jesus himself standing by my table, telling me everything was going to be okay.  I couldn't see Him but HE WAS THERE!!  Yes, He was.  And suddenly I was calm. Composed.  Hopeful.  And I knew I'd received a message from God that He was in control and there would be a baby for my baby girl.  He saw my tears.  He dried my tears.  He held me close.  

A few days later the phone rang.  It was my daughter, telling me that they were meeting their baby boy that very evening.  They brought him  home from the hospital three days later.  He had been in the newborn intensive care unit for three months.  Living in the hospital next door to where I worked, and I had no clue!!  A miracle extreme preemie needing a mommy and daddy.  And a grandma heart just waiting to hug and kiss him.  He was the boy that God was telling me about just a few days earlier. 

While we wait...."God is doing much more."    We can trust the doorkeeper of the waiting room.  

I could share a lot more details about the hand of God in regard to this story. So very amazing!!  But I want to leave you with these words of hope that my pastor once shared:

Waiting is never easy

but when there is nothing

you can do, 

it doesn't mean 

nothing is being done.

God is working for you 

in ways

you cannot see.

         

Observations from 1600 miles southeast of home

Today marks the end of a glorious two week trip to Savannah, Ga, with my husband the IT consultant.  He travels 1600 miles from home every week to earn a living. This is his career.  He's had this traveling gig for the past 13 years.  He provides income for us.  To put food on the table and pay bills.  To buy our home where I am the main occupant.  He spends more time living in a hotel than in our home, if I do the math correctly.  If nothing else, this trip has made me acutely aware of the sacrifice required in being a consultant.  He doesn't complain. I believe I might tend to whine a bit if I were in his shoes.  But whining does come natural to me regardless of circumstances.  We all have our gifts.  😃

Retirement is approaching (a little over two years) and I considered this two week period of time a little experiment to see how well we might tolerate living together on a daily basis.  And.....after two weeks I believe we would both agree we'll do just fine.   

Isn't Savannah gorgeous?  And February is a splendid time to visit, meteorologically speaking.  Although the second night we were there, the tornado sirens and our insanely loud weather apps on our phones woke us up at 4am.  I looked out the window, and he pondered what we should do.  We quickly decided to just put adequate clothing on so that rescue and recovery squads wouldn't experience potential mental anguish and visual suffering when they found our bodies.  Then we went back to sleep.  It was 4am, for crying out loud.  Kansas tornadoes generally seem to be more respectful re: time of day.  No worries. Damage and injuries were north of our location.  All was well.  

During this trip I learned some stuff about a variety of subjects.

  Seafood platters at The Crab Shack.  Heap lot of delicious food with one glaring exception.  Crab legs, shrimp, mussels...all delightfully delicious.  See picture number 2?  All that remained was crawfish.  I asked the waitress exactly how one consumes a crawfish and she showed me the beheading process, and what part to eat.  Luckily our first and only bites were small ones.  We were both able to swallow the crawfish meat without making a grade-school child-like scene of spitting it into our napkins while gagging.  And we both agreed it was our first and last bite ever.  Icky stuff. 

For fun on the weekend we drove to St Augustine, Florida for a couple days.  This is the oldest city in the USA and a wonderful place to visit. Go there if you ever have the chance.  

We went to the fountain of youth archaeological park. 

 And drank the water.  

Still waiting for results.  

Not all that hopeful.

Saw our very first drawbridge in action. And our second.  And third. And fourth.   Busy harbor.

 And ate at a fabulous little cafe called Gas Filling Station.  A repurposed gas station with a cool and quirky interior and really really good food.  

And the beach, oh the beach was marvelous.  Lots of long walks on the beach.  Very fun weekend seeing the sites of St Augustine.  You need to go there!

Back in Savannah, while the hubby worked, I found things to do.  Like visiting the Coastal Georgia Botanical Gardens.   I learned,  maybe you already knew, that the Camelia Senesis (pictured) is the source of ALL tea.  The bushes flower from October to March, and tea is made from the leaves.  Processing varies for black, green, white, oolong, or pu-erh.  Just like all wine is from grapes, all tea is from Camelia Senesis leaves.

Such beautiful flowers...I like tea even more now.

The crapemyrtles of course weren't even leafed out yet, but I learned an important horticultural tip:  Don't prune your crapemyrtle bushes! "An unpruned crapemyrtle produces a longer lasting flower display".  Yay.  Saves me some work on my youngish crapemyrtle bush.

The garden is pretty new and will eventually be quite nice.  For now it's in its formative years.  But still a lovely place to walk.

I would imagine March and April would be a great time to visit.  I should come back next month.  😁 And the month after.  

Found this awesome little quirky BBQ joint, complete with Guitar Pickin' Parlor and Music store.  The owner repairs guitars, and constructs his own guitars.  Very cool place.  The store is jam packed full of stringed instruments.  And the food is southern style barbecue.  Pretty tasty. 

But my favorite scene was this one:

The shadow of me and the man of my dreams watching the waves at Tybee Beach.  Something about the "heartbeat" of the ocean that just soothes the soul.

We're back home.  No oceans.  No palm trees.  Oddly enough, the day we returned to Savannah from St Augustine, I opened up Facebook and discovered "Only in Kansas" posted this picture highlighting beautiful sights to see in Kansas:

Even though I'd just seen all the incredible beauty that Savannah and St Aug have to offer, seeing this picture brought a little tear to my eye and warmed my heart.  Now that's home.   Minneapolis, Kansas.  Home of Rock City.  Site of many fun experiences in my childhood.  Memories of home.    

Home's where your heart is.  Home is incredibly beautiful.  Even with no beach.

Comfort? Style? Or Companions?

In the past 13 years the hubby has spent more time living in a hotel than time living in our Kansas home.  He has experienced every Starwood, Hilton and Marriott brand hotel known to man, and can give you detailed descriptions of them all.  

This man is simply the easiest person to please on the face of the earth when it comes to living conditions.  Side note:  he pretty much has to be to endure my slovenly habits.  All that being said, there was one Starwood hotel brand in Baltimore that he absolutely abhorred to the point of near anxiety.  (yes, calm Mr. Coffman.  yes, anxiety).  When driving recently on Oliver near 96 he caught a glimpse of a new hotel being built there and when he saw this same brand he said "I won't be able to drive near Oliver and 96 again".  He was serious!

Hard to believe his least favorite hotel was in the USA considering the accommodations we experienced across the pond in France and Germany.

France.  2008.  In the 12th district of Paris.  See the floor space in this picture?  That's all the floor space in this lovely room.  See that tallish piece of furniture?  It was a combination closet/mini-bar fridge.  So convenient. Room for hanging two items of clothing.  After only one sleepless night spent searching the internet for Marriott hotels in Paris ($$$$$), I marched myself down to the front desk. 

After explaining the difficulties of occupying a room with these minuscule parameters compared to the ample parameters of our bodies, the desk clerk took a look at me, had mercy, and gave us this room: 
Much better. Tiny balcony opened up from the bath.  Right across from the toilet. Odd, but hey the bedroom was considerably larger and way more comfy.  My hips no longer were bruised from hitting the walls trying to walk from the bedroom to the bathroom.  I spent a lot of time in this room while the hubby was working and really appreciated its quality.  Oddly enough one afternoon while waiting for the Mr to arrive after his workday there came a knock at the hotel room door.  I looked out the door's peephole and saw a hotel employee holding a tool box.  When I opened the door and greeted the man it was clear that we had a severe language barrier as he tried to explain why he needed to come into the room for a repair.  He finally was able to come up with 3 English words.  Animatedly waving his arms around he said "Fix your douche".  Hmmm.  That brought me very little comfort but since he was so desperate in his quest to work on SOMETHING, I let him in.  Come to find out, "douche" was our shower.  Who knew?  The shower head needed to be tightened up a bit but we hadn't reported it because to us it was no big deal.  Previous guest must have felt otherwise and complained.   

We found hotel rooms in Germany to be quite a bit larger and more comfortable.  Our first hotel room in Weisbaden was in an older building.  In the process of updating the old hotel to be modern, they needed to add bathrooms to each hotel room.  To do that, they simply put the toilet, shower and sink inside a glass enclosure close by the beds.  Yes.  If you were sharing a room with another person, or happened to have visitors in your room.... all bathroom activity was visible.  Granted, the glass was slightly frosted, but still.  To clarify, I am fully clothed in this picture as I stood in the shower to take my own picture:

Recently when going through old family pictures I came across pictures of a hotel room from the 1980's.  We were on a trip to Arkansas with DeWayne's parents, grandparents, and our two little girls.  His grandpa and grandma never left their Kansas farm to travel anywhere, so this was a big big deal to them. Grandpa in particular made sure everyone we met  knew that we had "four generations of family right here on this trip".  It was so much fun and a really precious memory maker.  Truly, it was a "big big deal" to all of us.

 This picture captures a typical scene in one of our rooms.  Playing Pinochle.  Every single night.  So very much fun.  

Probably our oldest daughter who was maybe 8-ish at the time took this picture.  She and her little sister, maybe 5-ish, spent their time in the hotel room playing "restaurant".  We were served the finest imaginary food known to mankind.  In a little bitty cramped hotel room.  Who knows, the "douche" might have even been in need of repair.  But we didn't care.  

I would have to think that the hotel we used on this Arkansas adventure back in the 1980's was nowhere near as nice as the hotel currently being built near Oliver and 96.  If I were given a choice of re-living any of the above experiences, I would undoubtedly choose the Arkansas trip from the 1980's. Clearly not because of the luxurious hotel accommodations.  Expensive hotel rooms?  No big deal. Spending time with those you love every chance you get?  Priceless.  

Go ahead. Live. Now. (and forever!!)

A few days ago I had lunch with a dear friend.  Over Panera deliciousness, we caught up on life and the goings-on in our individual families.  Always a blessing to hang out with Sandy.  

We both have new camping vehicles and part of our conversation involved our individual trips we have planned as soon as spring arrives. It seems that both of us and our husbands are almost fixated on the need to just go camping.  Just be in the great outdoors.  Breathe the fresh air and let our souls relax and our batteries recharge.  Quality time with our Creator.  

During our chat a random statement left my lips with little thought involved on my part: "I just want to live while I'm still alive."  We chatted a bit longer and then finished up our meals and headed back to work.

Since then I find myself thinking about those words a lot.  Not in a morbid, depressing way.  Just contemplating life's realities.  Never hurts to do that occasionally. The plain truth is, none of us are immune to the possibility of sudden changes that permanently alter life as we know it.   

Temporary.  Every thing your eyes can see.  Every precious possession you think you can't live without.  Every person you can wrap your arms around in a loving embrace.   Every person you can become hatefully angry with and perhaps inflict painful suffering upon without the chance to make it right.  All temporary. I am temporary. You are temporary.   Here today, and possibly gone tomorrow.  

Everything is temporary except.... our one true source of hope, the One who will not be here today and gone tomorrow.  

Jesus knew the meaning of temporary in regard to human life.   Age 33 his earthly life ended on the cross.

But he also defined the word eternal.  Nothing temporary about Jesus.  He conquered death and lives forever in the hearts of those who believe Him, invite Him into their life, and trust His word.  Because of Jesus, we can live. Now...and forever!  

I want to make the most of every day while I'm still alive.  Yes I do. My calendar is filled with upcoming plans that excite me.   At the same time,  my heart is filled with the hope that when the "mist of my life" vanishes, Jesus has my heavenly calendar planned out for all eternity.  With a life that will be far more amazing than anything I could dream or imagine here on planet Earth.  And oh, the indescribable joy of meeting up with my mom and dad, and so very many others.  Some whose lives ended quite unexpectedly and way too young.  Most recently, my sweet great niece Ella Grace, age 9, for one.   If you're reading this, I want you to know I really want to see you there, too,  when the mist of your life vanishes.  

Until then, this is my idea of heaven:  

And....yes.....visiting this lovely location is on my upcoming  calendar of events.  

64 days and counting.

We have reached that part of the year when the short days and long nights start to wear on me.  Just kind of mess with my psyche.  You, too?  

Mid-January every year, I will google "how many days until spring", and come up with stuff like you see in the above picture.  Brings me a bit of hope.

And I start dreaming of camping.  The man of my dreams and I love to go camping.  43 years of marriage has included many camping trips.  Which is kind of remarkable considering the first few years of camping included some challenging trips.  Let's be honest, we had some completely miserable experiences that sucked the fun right out of life.   It's kind of remarkable we're even still married, not to mention still camping.  

One of our first camping trips was at the Ottawa County Fishing Lake in 1976. We  borrowed my sister's old pop-up tent trailer for the weekend and took our precious 6 month old baby girl on her first camping trip.  It was pretty dog-gone exciting to be sleeping sort of indoors instead of on the floor of a leaky tent.  After setting it up a few feet from the lake shore, we tucked our baby into a cozy bed on one end of the pop-up,  and crawled into our own bed on the other side.  Probably no more than 4 feet away from her.  Tiny little tent trailer. Which eased my mind that we'd be close by if she cried. Practically arms length.  

Regardless of the local weather forecast, camping in Kansas often involves a little rain.  This particular trip was no exception.  The usual loud impressive display of lightning and thunder was accompanied by torrential rains and of course wind.  The storm woke us up and we were just so very happy to be inside a warm, dry pop-up trailer.  Shortly after the storm began we heard our little girl crying and as was our custom we let her cry for just a little bit thinking she'd go back to sleep.  Well that was not to happen so I got out of bed and reached over to her bed to comfort her.  But I couldn't seem to reach her.  She was screaming bloody murder by that time and I asked DeWayne if he could reach her.  

He couldn't reach her.   We couldn't see her when the lightning flashed enough to light up the trailer. (yes, a flashlight would have been a brilliant thing to have that night)  The baby continued to scream, from some unknown location. How do you lose a 6 month old baby inside a miniscule pop-up tent trailer?  I started to scream too.  One frightened mommy.

Not really knowing where else to look, and with panic setting in, we finally left the camper and went outside into the pouring torrential rain.  As we walked around to the side of the camper closest to the rising lakewater, there was our crying baby.  Somehow while in her bed she had rolled up against the canvas wall of the trailer and slid out between the bed and the canvas, dropping probably 3 feet onto the wet rainy ground.  No injuries, just wet and cold.  I can't describe the relief we felt to hold her close and know she was unharmed.  

My memory of the rest of that night is vague but I wouldn't be a bit surprised if we just packed up in the car and drove back home to sleep.  That's the perk of camping 8 miles from home.  There were probably more trips home to sleep than mornings when we woke up still at the lake in our early years of camping.  

And still....we camp.  Sometimes we even take a flashlight.

  

Are you wondering what this lovely picture is?  I took it last year while on a camping trip.  At a campground sewage dump station.  A few feet from this scene the hubby was emptying our holding tank.  Campers can find the beauty in just about anything.   And endure just about anything.  To quote the man of my dreams, "You just gotta have a sense of adventure."  And I might add.....an RV helps. 

Sixty four days.  In a few minutes the clock strikes midnight and it will be sixty three days.  I just want to go camping.  

Ebay lessons and Cabbage.

It's been a week of education for Simply B in the fine art of using Ebay to purchase stuff.  I'm a relative newby, just mainly buying stuff outright and not bidding on it.  But this week I decided to bid on Castillian plates to add to the 2 that were given to me from my mom's kitchen.   And I learned a vital lesson.   Once you place a bid on an Ebay item, you may well win that bid.  And once you win that bid....well....you pay for the item and it's yours.  It's a contract of sorts.  I guess I thought I'd win the bid then be able to decide if I really wanted them.  So far I have 10 Castillian plates.  There may be more on the way, who knows.  I kind of got carried away once the bidding started.  Wow.  No biggie.  I guess.  Haven't checked our bank account balance.  Perhaps I should.  😅

So anyway, today I find myself surrounded by dinner plates that remind me of my sweet mom.  Submerged in nostalgia thanks to an Ebay oops.  

For several years of our early married life we lived next door to my mom.  From the time our children were born until they were 9 and 6, we were neighbors. Mom was our babysitter while I worked at the local hospital, and it was just the best set up ever. Win/win for all of us. The girls formed a really close bond with Mom, and I know it was a blessing for  Mom to have them there.  She was widowed at 57 and I think my girls gave her a lot of needed love and laughter.  And she reciprocated.  

Those years were such a treasure.  It was a delight to live next door to her.  

Often I'd hear the phone ring and answer it to hear Mom say something like "You just have to come over here and taste this dish I made for my supper".  I didn't really have to ask the ingredients because always it was some sort of vegetable dish.   That woman loved her veggies.  One of her favorite sandwiches was two pieces of buttered bread with sliced onions between.  Yeah, I can't embrace that one, not at all.   

I'll admit that during my formative years, I wasn't always on the same page as my mom when it came to her taste in food.  Turnips, celery, radishes, cucumbers, onions.... just to name a few.  She really never met a vegetable she didn't like.  Kind of like I am with, uh, cookies.  

Mom also loved cabbage.  Dad did not love cabbage.  Dad did not even like cabbage. Let's get to the point, Dad detested cabbage.  Mom loved to just boil up wedges of cabbage and then top it with  butter and salt/pepper.  On days she did this, Dad would walk in the door, breathe in the scent of cooked cabbage, and say "Who died in here? Did someone get sick?".  Such a tender family moment.  😁


My taste buds have morphed over the years and I now find myself loving vegetables of all sorts.  As well as, uh, cookies.  

Cabbage and I have kissed and made up.  Last year sometime I came across a recipe on Pinterest for Unstuffed Cabbage Rolls.  Tweaked it a little and it has become a favorite for me and the hubby.  Seriously, he begs me to make it!!  So easy, so quick, and the leftovers are fabulous.  And, bonus, it's kind of healthy-ish.  It's kind of like comfort food and perfect for cold winter evenings.  So I thought I'd share it with you:

Unstuffed Cabbage Rolls

1 pound ground beef

1 pound sausage (like Jimmy Dean's regular) (or just use all ground beef if you like) (but it's tastier with sausage)

1 large onion, chopped

2 - 4 cloves of garlic, minced (mmmm good, you can never have too much garlic)

1 bag of shredded cole slaw mix (the kind with carrots in it) (16 oz, I think)

2 (14 oz) cans of diced tomatoes

1 (8 oz) can of tomato sauce

1/2 cup beef broth, or chicken broth, or veggie broth. (can add more if desired)

2 tsp salt

1 tsp ground black pepper

1/2 tsp Old Bay seasoning (or celery salt, paprika) (or any seasoning salt type stuff you might have on hand)

1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

Heat a Dutch oven or a large skillet.  Brown the beef and sausage together, with the garlic and onion added.  Drain the grease.  Add the cole slaw mix, tomatoes, tomato sauce, broth, seasonings.  Bring it to a boil.  Put a lid on it and let it simmer 30 minutes or until the cabbage is cooked to suit you.  

I serve it over rice.  Not necessary to do so, but I like it that way.  

And it's really a meal in one pan.  Can't beat that!  Maybe just add, uh,  cookies for dessert and you're good to go.  

One recipe may or may not make 10 Castillian plates worth of food.  But I am so excited for my next big family meal to use these new treasures.  Who knows, there may be more plates by then.  Party at B's!!  

HGTV and contentment

Do you watch HGTV?  House Hunters, Flip or Flop, or my favorite Fixer Upper? I'm guessing you have watched at least one episode of these shows, as well as perhaps Property Brothers, HH International, etc.  I'll be honest, I love to watch this channel.  No real political undertones, no real drama, and no disgusting commercials that would make you hope your grandkids aren't watching, and make you wish you weren't watching.  Ick.  (talking about you, Sports Networks).  HGTV is just stuff about home.  Home is a precious topic for most everyone.  

House Hunters does kind of rattle my cage sometimes, though.  Do these folks walking through these homes ever stop to think that the same features and decor that are on their "must haves" list will soon, VERY soon, be seen as ghastly and outdated?  Someday someone may perhaps walk into their new beautiful home and gasp in horror at their outdated granite countertops and "open concept".  Like probably within 5 years of purchase if I'm a betting person.  Makes me shake my head.  

In 2006 we made a trip to Guatemala for a few days.  One of the days our group took a tour bus from Guatemala City to Antigua.  The driver did a great job of making sure we got a good picture of life in Guatemala.  It's a beautiful country with beautiful people, and the city of Antigua is fascinating.  Before we arrived in the historical area of Antigua we drove through a residential area.  The driver stopped in a couple places so we could see how the locals live.  

This picture depicts a typical neighborhood for the average Guatemalan family according to our driver.  We saw enough areas of similar living conditions that I believe him.  

I want to show you a picture of another home there:

Are you wondering where the home is?  It's the structure with corrugated metal walls and door, and a large gap between the wall and corrugated tin roof.  There was an electrical extension cord draped over the wall.  My picture taking didn't include the entire structure.  Because my eyes, and my heart, were drawn to this part of the scene:

A little boy opening the door to his home.  This is where he lives.  This is home. This is precious to him.  If you look closely you can see a gorgeous smile.  What a beautiful child.  The word "contentment" comes to mind.  Don't get me wrong, life in Guatemala is difficult and the living conditions are often tragic.  My heart broke many times during the days we were there.

But contentment shouldn't depend upon circumstances.  Or granite countertops. Or square feet of living space.  "....I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." Phil 4:11.  (I would emphasize the word "learned")   

"For if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that."  1 Tim 6:8.  

My favorite scripture on the subject is found in Hebrews 13:5 "Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said:  Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."  What more could we possibly need?  

Contentment is possible.  Might need to turn off HGTV to achieve it, though.