"Home being a relative term"

That is a direct quote from my youngest, B.  It came out of her mouth on Monday as I parked the car in the garage and said, "We're home!"

See, we weren't really parking in our garage in our home.  We were parking in a friend's garage in a friend's home - a very generous friend who is out of town and said we could stay there.  So it is "home" for now, but it isn't really "home" - hence, home being a relative term.

We want to be in our own home, but there's a bit of a problem.  We were hit by a tornado last Friday night.  We are safe, and the damage is relatively minor, but work needs to be done before we can move back in. 

This is my first tornado.  I think I am actually more afraid dealing with the consequences and the unknowns afterwards than I felt during the storm.  Had I known better I probably should have been afraid during the storm.  The sky had that green cast you hear about with an incredibly eerie calm to the trees plus lots of lightening.  Your typical storm has gray to dark clouds with lots of wind, so this was like nothing I'd ever seen up close before.  And the combination of the 3 happening together plus warning sirens made me grab B and head to the basement.  We have a basement garage, so we sat in the car and waited for the storm to blow over, trying to catch weather on the radio where possible.  Within about 3 - 5 minutes, the car started to shake.  That was an interesting experience - one I don't anticipate feeling again - sitting in a car in a closed basement garage with strong enough wind to shake the car.  The power went out and we were in darkness except for car dome lights and flashlights.

After it was over I left B in the car and went to see what was happening.  My first clue something was odd were the tree limbs in my bedroom windows.  The force had knocked the screens in.  My next clue was the wet hallway.  My hallway is not usually wet.  So I went to the front door to look outside.  Even in the dark I could see enough damage and debris around me that I remember thinking, "Oh, this is what it looks like on TV when they show damage after a tornado.  I wonder if we had a tornado." 

We could not get my car out of the garage that night due to the debris in the driveway, so my daughter, S, came and picked us up after work.  She couldn't drive all the way, so we had to walk to her car, about 1/2 a mile or so away.  Thankfully there was power and no damage at her place, so we spent the night there. 

Side story to this whole event...as soon as I get to the basement,  I receive a work email about a production problem.  Such is the nature of my job.  I do system support, so I can get asked to help at any time.  I sent back a quick reply that I could not help since I was sitting in the basement due to weather.  Emails continued to go back and forth among the 3 folks working to resolve the problem, and I eventually was able to tell 'em about the tornado.  Of course they were kind and understanding and one person offered to let us come there if need be.  Once I arrived at S's place, I said that would not be necessary and found out that the problem was still just that - a problem.  So I logged in and took a look.  I was pretty much wide awake at that point anyway, so why not, right?  Thankfully I was still in shock, so that helped me find the problem.  Had I tried an hour or so later or even the next day after the shock had worn off, I probably wouldn't have been any help.  Shock is a funny thing.  It is surprising what you can get done while in shock.

The next two days are somewhat of a blur - lots of waiting, some clean up, fatigue plus celebrating Easter as a family at S's apartment.  My oldest son was also traveling back from California, hoping to land late Sunday eve at the airport that had also been hit by the same tornado, so there was a good dose of concern thrown into the mix. 

By Sunday eve, B and I had moved into our "home being a relative term" home.  It really is a blessing - a bit of a God thing, if you will.  We just happened to have the keys to her place already.  We've maybe only had the keys to her place one other time when she was out of town.  So why now?  I guess Someone knew we'd need them.

Do I know what tomorrow holds?  Nope.  I know what I plan for tomorrow, but ya know, I didn't know what Friday night held.  I thought I knew, but sure enough, I didn't.  And ya know what?  It's still not an 8.9 earthquake and tsunami aftermath that I'm dealing with.  And I'm still a marble snob.  I didn't lose the marble slab or the marble rolling pin.  And maybe, just maybe, the telling of this story in this blog is a bit like writing my blessings in stone - recording it to remind myself how much I have to be thankful for - our safety, family, and a home to stay at...home being a relative term and all...

So even though I am afraid, unsure of myself and how the insurance plays out or the timing of the repairs or when we can move back in, it's all ok.  I am confident of this; I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 

Oh and here's one final blessing or silver lining out of this whole thing.  I had set a goal to clear out the freezer by the end of May ready to start baking my daughter's wedding and groom's cakes.  Well, now I'm a month ahead of schedule! 

Write your sorrows in sand and your blessings in stone

You're right.  That isn't an original.  In fact I just saw it on the wall as I was finishing up a massage.  Yes, that is right. I had a massage today.  Talk about a blessing to write in stone.

But it fit right in with something I'd been thinking about earlier today.  And yes, if you're counting, this is three blog postings in one day.  Ah, the benefits of a vacation day!

Anyway I woke up this morning to the sound of birds singing.  Yes, it is spring!  So I'm laying in bed thinking that I can hear the birds.  And then I stop and think what a blessing that is.  And then I stop and think what a blessing it is that I can hear.  Just that.  I can hear.  Today I can hear.  It's not that my hearing has been in any question or an issue recently that I should be extra joyful that I can hear.  It just struck me that I can, and am grateful.  I can hear.

I can see.  Today I can see.   Tomorrow, who knows?

I can receive and enjoy a massage. Such a luxury!

I can swallow.  I can breathe.  I can sleep.  I can stretch.  I can walk.  I can run (not fast or long, mind you, but I can run.)  I can laugh.  I can cry.  I can smell.  I can taste.  I can cook for myself and for others.  I can run into old friends and greet them with a hug and a smile and love.  I can write these blessings.  I can remind myself to remember my blessings.  I can choose to not complain.

And I think that's what I need to remind myself most.  I can choose to not complain.  No matter how I may be feeling about any situation, I am blessed beyond my ability to list.  Yes, I have had sorrows.  We all have.  I can remind myself to write those in the sand, where water and wind wipe them away quickly.

And I can remind myself that no matter what tomorrow brings, whether sorrow or blessing, it does not wipe away or diminish the blessing of today any more than the blessing of today removes the sorrow of yesterday or make it less than it was.

But complaining is an easy, lazy activity.  It takes no thought to complain.  It takes no heart to complain.  It is something that we all do quite well and are very practiced at.  In contrast it is usually an intentional activity to list blessings and choose to focus on those.  Similar to writing them in stone - it takes work to write in stone.  It takes time and thought and even tools conducive to accomplishing the task. 

But it is a worthwhile task that changes both the writer and the stone and the reader of the stone, for chances are that there are many common blessings that we all share and so easily forget - especially when life is good and sweet and the blessings abound even more. 

Such is the nature of all of us.  But today, I can hear.  I am blessed.  And I remember that I am blessed.

Pics from The Marble Snob

Up to this point I have not posted any pics of anything I've baked, in part, because I needed my daughter to point out the icon to use to upload pictures.  Ok, so that's not just part of the reason, that is the entire reason.

Sigh.  I have so much to learn about blogging...

Anyway here are a few pics.  They are just taken with my phone - no professional camera here, so be gracious, please...

The marble snob begins.  Yes, that's right, this spoiled brat has a marble rolling pin and a marble slab.  It is WONDERFUL!!

This is a variety of danishes that I took into work on my boss' birthday recently.  We have cream cheese, blueberry cream cheese, strawberry cream cheese and chocolate croissants.  You know it's a good danish when you take a bite of the blueberry cream cheese and you don't immediately start thinking about what you want to do the next time to improve them.  That wasn't so much the case with the chocolate croissants, but I know what I'll do different next time, so it's all good.

This was a pyramid gauteau I made for a family celebration recently plus little mini pithiviers.  All that rise on the pithiviers is strictly from layers of butter and steam.  Amazing!

This is actually an image taken from before I became The Marble Snob, so even doing these doughs with a normal countertop and wooden rolling pin doesn't come out too shabby....notice the two chocolate leftover croissants innocently hanging out in the middle.  What I want to do next time is a combination of this version and the other version on top - include a homemade pain in the center but also sprinkle shaved chocolate in all of the layers before rolling.  It could be good.  I'm jus' sayin'...

Now that I'm getting the hang of it, maybe you will see a few more pics.  And if I can ever get a decent pic of me, I'll try to include one of those, too!

I am confident of this

I LOVE the movie, The Sound of Music.  It is my all time favorite movie.  Not just my favorite musical or my favorite family movie or my favorite movie from childhood.  It is my all time favorite movie.  It came out when I was a mere 4 years old.  (If you are so inclined you can do the math and figure out how ancient I am.)  I remember seeing it in the theater.  I remember wanting to BE Julie Andrews when I grew up.  I still do.  I remember playing Gretl when our 5th grade choir put on our version of The Sound of Music.  I was the one chosen as Gretl because I was the littlest one in the class, and I probably did a phenomenal job of falling asleep on the stage steps to "So Long, Farewell."  I'm sure I did. 

Anyway I still love singing along with all of the songs, and someday I want to host a Sound of Music party with a bunch of chickas (and hunks, too, if they are man enough to handle it!) so we can watch the movie and sing all the lyrics and dance and boo and hiss at the Barronness Schroeder and sigh when Maria and the Captain fall in love and ooo and aahh at my very most favorite scene from the entire movie - when Maria is marching down the aisle in her wedding dress with the train trailing behind her and the song "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria" singing in the background.  Even just typing this, I get tears, because I love that scene that much.  (Yes, I am a sappy wimp!) 

Or maybe the tears are because that was such a grammatically horrific run-on sentence. 

Nah, it was the sappy wimp reason...

And someday I want to take a trip to Salzburg with seven of my closest friends and sing "Do-Re-Mi" on bicycles through the streets and end the song on those famous steps.  And dress in re-cut curtains.  Ok, maybe not the re-cut curtains part but everything else, definitely.

But the song "I Have Confidence" is my least favorite song from that musical.  I hardly ever sing those lyrics.  It isn't a bad song, per se, and I get why it's there.  Maria has left the Abbey and is headed to become the governess for the Captain's seven children.  Scary prospect, no doubt.  And Maria is justifiably nervous, so she sings this song to herself to make her "feel" the confidence she doesn't really feel.  Not a bad coping choice.  I get all of that.  But there is one line in the song that trips me up philosophically or theologically if you will.  "I have confidence in confidence alone."  Um, really?  Now possibly Rogers and Hammerstein just needed 11 syllables to fill out a set of notes and create a bridge and it means nothing, but it's stuck with me.  Does having confidence in the idea of confidence actually give a person courage and confidence to move forward?

I saw a video clip recently of a little child on the end of a diving board afraid to make what appears to be his first jump off into the pool.  We see water, so we know that he isn't automatically going to hurt himself when he jumps.  And we presume that since there is a videographer taking pictures of this little guy, he has the skill set to jump and survive.  But he is clearly afraid.

Then we see a pic of his mother.  She is in the water with her arms outstretched, smiling and encouraging him to jump to her.  And he jumps, and he lands in her arms, and he laughs, and he's ready to do it again.

But did you catch that?  He was jumping to her.  He had confidence in her.  He wasn't confident in himself or in his swimming abilities.  He had confidence in his mother, because she had proven herself to be trustworthy to take care of his needs all the years of his life - his entire lifetime.

Which takes me finally to this blog's title - I am confident of this.  I am not just confident.  I am confident of a this - of a something or someone else.  I am not just confident in the idea of confidence as a means to bolster and hold me up against an unforeseeable future.  I am confident of something more, something trustworthy.

And that yields courage and strength to move forward - to "feel" confident even when I don't feel it.

And who knows, maybe someday I'll sing the lyrics to "I Have Confidence," too if I ever find that Austrian Abbey live and in person. 

Oh, who am I kidding?  If I am ever able to do this dream vacation, I will sing every line from every song from that movie with much joy.  And probably sing each one more than once!

Marble Snob

So I have been called a cake snob for years by friends.  I've also been accused of raising cake snobs.  That is all part of the cake scraps story that I will tell someday.

But for today, I am here to confess that I am now a marble snob.  It's true.

My parents had a marble slab that my father bought for my mother years ago to assist with peanut brittle making.  Someday I will blog about making my mother's peanut brittle.  But while the marble slab was beautiful, my mother was used to pouring up the piping hot peanut brittle on her very well buttered counter top so she never fully adopted the marble slab idea.  And let's face it.  It is HEAVY, and my little ol' mama couldn't lift the thing.  And somehow, I ended up with it.  My brother and sister should both probably sue me for it, because it wasn't specifically called out in the will that I should inherit it, but so far mum's the word.

However I haven't used the marble slab but maybe once or twice.  Because let's face it.  It is HEAVY.  And my house had so many other things in it, and when I would make pastry I was usually in such a hurry, I didn't bother to locate it and bring it out.  (You can say it.  I may be somewhat like my mother.) 

But now that my house has been significantly decluttered due to the various remodeling activities, the marble slab is in an accessible, although not prominent, location.  Nice, huh?

But there is more to the story.  I am sure that I will mention Helen Fletcher a few times, or a few hundred times in the blog if I keep this up for any length of time.  Her cookbook, written 25 years ago called The New Pastry Cookbook, changed my life.  It's the only cookbook that I can say that about, but this one did.  I had the privelege of seeing her when the book first came out, so I have a signed copy.  And then I got to see her again just last week at The Kitchen Conservatory where she was making brioche, croissants and puff pastry.  And she was using a marble rolling pin.

Now I've seen marble rolling pins before and thought about them but never splurged on one.  But after seeing Helen use the one at class and praising it's superiority for rich doughs, and since I knew where my marble slab was, I busted the budget and bought one.

And oh my.  Wow.  I am one spoiled brat now.  I am having the family over tomorrow for dinner, and I'm all inspired to make pastry, so I'm making croissants, and some white chocolate pithiviers, and I just finished rolling out the croissant dough and I'm half way through the puff pastry dough, but the difference is really there between rolling on the counter with a wooden rolling pin and on the marble slab with a marble rolling pin.  I am not worn out.  The marble surfaces glide over the dough and it retains the cold temperature needed better.  I can honestly say that if given a choice, I will never go back.

Now having said that, I'm not dealing with devastation from an 8.9 earthquake or tsunami.  Or even the after math of a hurricane or a tornado, so I have the luxury today to be a marble snob.  That may not last.  This life is totally unpredictable, and I'm truly not in control.  But for today when I live in the relative lap of luxury as compared to 80% of the world's population, I am making pastry.  And I'm doing it on a marble slab with a marble rolling pin.

My name is Deb.  And I am a marble snob.

I am confident

This is the first post in a series of blogs that will form a complete thought.  No rush to finish, and hopefully it will make sense when it's all said and done.  And I have other blog ideas that I will intersperse (had to check dictionary.com for the spelling on that one!) here and there such as "cake scraps" and "aspic" but more on those later.

This one is on the phrase, "I am confident."  It's an intriguing idea really.  It's an emphatic statement.  There is no question mark implied at the end.  It's a statement - a statement of identity to be exact, as in confidence is a state of being strong enough that one can claim an identity as confident.  Crazy.  Outrageous as a matter of fact.  How bold!  How audacious!  And yet it can also be said quietly.  In fact it holds more meaning, it holds more purpose, it holds more weight when it is said quietly.

Or when it is said through great pain.

Or when it is said despite fear.

Or when it is said after a catastrophe.  When despair is the logic response.

So does it apply to me?  Most of the time I am conscious of being nervous.  Like now, for example.  This weekend we go live with a project at work that I've been working on for over a year, and in some circles it has come to be known as "that thing Deb is working on."  And by some circles I mean senior executives.  I feel like we have tested this well and are prepared, but I'm still nervous. 

And that's just one example of being nervous.  I can name many others.  Like all of the beautiful work that has recently been done on my house.  I LOVE the results, but I'm nervous that it won't last, that it will all go away without warning.  I'm nervous about auditioning to sing with a choir.  I'm nervous to even show people this blog.

I am well acquainted with nerves.  We go way back.  I was one of those kids with a "nervous stomach" as they called it back then.  I wasn't given any drugs for it back then; back then we were tough and just lived with it!  (Insert Tim Allen "arrgh!" grunt here!)

But am I well acquainted with confidence? 

If confidence means moving ahead in spite of the nerves, then I may be able to say, "I am confident." 

If confidence means taking the medicine despite the pain, then I may be able to say, "I am confident."

If confidence means going forward with the project regardless of the fear, then I may be able to say, "I am confident."

If confidence means keeping on keeping on even though everything is a disaster around me, then I may be able to say, "I am confident."

If confidence means doing the right thing by my kids because it's the right thing even when I didn't feel like doing the right then, then I may be able to say, "I am confident."

If confidence means going to the house to see about my father's deceased body despite the hospice worker's freak out over the phone, then I may be able to say, "I am confident."  (Maybe I'll tell that story sometime...)

If confident means clicking the "Publish Post' button below, then I may be able to say, "I am confident."

Or I could be trying to convince myself.  Or deciding to "be" confident even when I don't feel it.

Or maybe, just maybe, I am confident.  Question mark????

Always Learning

It's been over 3 months since I last posted something here and I haven't missed it.  So what does that say about me or about my embracing of the blog culture I find myself living in?  It may say that I'm an old dog who isn't learning new tricks well.  It may say that I hold my heart close to my vest and find it odd this need of so many in today's world to share their thoughts, feelings and sins with the world.  I don't have anyone reading this yet or following it, so it may also say that it doesn't really matter. 

And yet I like to write.  I like to create.  I like to share my ideas when asked for them.  And maybe that's it.  I like to share my ideas when asked for them, but I don't readily share my ideas or thoughts on subjects if I have not been asked.  And nobody is asking for my blog thoughts, so I don't write.

But that's doesn't mean I haven't been writing or journaling.  I have, just not in this forum.  I often pray write at work when I am frustrated or confused or unsure how to proceed or nervous about the next meeting that I need to lead.  I have much on my mind at home as well.  My daughter is getting married.  My son recently moved out without warning, and I keep praying often for him to move forward and begin his military career.  My other son calls me often and shares his heart - a heart that is kind and tender and discerning and savvy all at the same time.  On top of all of that I have had some major renovations going on at my home, which has lead to my home being better than ever.  So all of these things are prayers on my heart and mind.  I just have not blogged about them for anyone in the world to read. 

So where am I going with all of this? Why write today?  As I read back over the title I chose and what I've written so far, I think I'm writing today because I've learned a lot over the past 3 months. 

I've learned that I like my home when it is clean and safe,

I've learned that I like quiet and peace, but that I need to force myself to spend time with people more.

I've learned that God is faithful.  He shows up when I ask Him to, and He helps me to succeed.  Any good thing that has happened in my life (and many good things have happened over the last 3 months especially) is because of Him - His care, His grace, His love, His faithfulness.  At the same time, any bad thing that has happened in my life is made bearable because of Him - His care, His grace, His love, His faithfulness.

I've learned that I need to force myself to write and let people in more.  Or at least I think I'm learning that but I probably shouldn't use the past tense form of the word learn.

I've learned that I like parking my car in the garage, something that hasn't happened in years, but I'm able to do now.

I've learned that I can enjoy shopping sometimes, even in fabric stores for bathroom curtain material. 

I've learned that I like to create beauty and order out of chaos.  I even feel God's pleasure when I do so. 

I've learned again that I have some pretty cool kids.  The gifts that they gave over Christmas and other times show that they are thoughtful, caring people.

I've learned that my brother is more ill than I realized, but he can eat crab like a pro.  It was a beautiful site to behold!

I've learned that listening to music, especially praise music, is good for me.  It calms me and lifts my spirit all at the same time. 

I've learned that I may be 49 years old, going on 50, but thankfully, I am still learning.  And I still love to learn, which is a very young thing to do.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll learn to blog better.  Maybe.

First Annual Pie Night!

I haven't posted in a few weeks.  I have been having a grand time looking up pie recipes for my family's first annual pie night.  What a glorious sight!

What is pie night?  Pie night is a borrowed tradition from another family.  They have been celebrating pie night for over a generation.  Pie night started because the pies weren't receiving their just due when served on Thanksgiving day with all of the other delicious treats.  So Mee-ma told her 4 kids to each choose a pie, and she would make them each a pie plus one for her husband and herself, and they would dine on those pies on Thanksgiving Eve.  As the children grew and married and had children of their own, each family member got their own pie.  Those 4 kids are now grandparents themselves and still getting their own pie each year.  What a wonderful family legacy!

My family has a lot of time to make up, but we have to start somewhere!  Last night was our first annual.  We had 17 pies, 13 baked by me and the rest baked by friends. 

We had chess pie requested by my oldest son, S.  Chess pie is an old-fashioned pie made with vinegar and cornmeal - created and developed a long time ago by wonderfully ingenious farming mothers who made pie out of what they had on hand when they really didn't have anything on hand except staples.  But don't think that means it doesn't taste good!  It has a lovely, homey, humble flavor that satisfies your sweet tooth and your love for comfort food.

We had key lime pie for my oldest daughter, S.  I squeezed every one of those little key limes by hand.  If I made this regularly, I would invest in one of those key lime squeezers, but then I might lose the feeling of love as I squeeze each one for my daughter.

We had an applie pie for my younger son, D.  He likes one pie, and pretty much only one pie.  And don't put any ice cream on it.  Just give him apple pie, thank you.

And we had a pumpkin pie for my younger daughter, B, even though she was at class.  B may or may not like to party with people, so she was perfectly happy for us to hold Pie Night while she was at class.  All she wanted was a piece of pumpkin pie.  And then I "broke" it by garnishing it with whipped cream.  Sigh.  I will have to make a new one for Thanksgiving...

We had pecan and oreo and peach and banana cream and French silk and coconut cream and blueberry.  I think I made the coconut cream for me, but it was a toss up between that and the blueberry.  And while the coconut cream made with coconut milk and toasted coconut was the best of its kind I'd ever tasted, I have to say that the blueberry was my favorite of the night.  The blueberries were simmered in wine for about 45 minutes until the wine had been reduced to a wonderful syrup before mixing up the rest of the filling.  Yum!  The berries tasted so fruity and bright. 

We had custard pie, chocolate mint, chocolate chip, butterscotch meringue and peanut butter.  The sight was glorious to behold!  I told everyone there that Pie Night is one of the holiest nights of the year but some have yet to believe.  A night set aside and like no other night of the year.  I'm jus' sayin'...

My house is small, and we were packed in like sardines, but no one complained.  We ate pie, we drank tea and coffee and a cranberry tea punch and laughed and ate more pie. 

And at the end of the night, when it was just family left we planned our Thanksgiving dinner together.  That was a great feeling of each contributing to the whole.  We're not planning to do turkey or even stuffed turkey breasts with artichoke hearts and spinach.  We'll do a pork tenderloin with stuffing and roasted root vegetables plus brussels sprouts and wheat rolls.  Oh, and pumpkin pie for dessert plus the leftovers of the fruit pies from last night that are resting quietly in the freezer until next week.  And oh yea, I'm going in for the blueberry again.  No doubt.

Then my oldest son drove his grandma home and had one of the best conversations he'd ever had with her.  Talk about icing on the cake.  Er, well, on the pie....

Such a great night.  I can't wait to do it all again next year!

Maple Syrup - Real vs. Imagined

So I am 40 - freakin' - 9 years old, and for the first time this morning, I had a maple syrup tasting.  I think I need to hold more in the future, but for this first venture into the unknown, I simply tasted real maple syrup vs. the artificial stuff.  Now mind you, I have typically only purchased the artificial stuff due to price more than anything.  But also due to availability. Look at your local mega-mart (as Alton Brown likes to call them), and  you will see the shelves full of the artificial stuff, but you have to search for the real stuff.  But a comment of a friend recently made me decide to pick up a bottle of the real stuff.  It had been years since I intentionally had ingested any of the real stuff, long before I was ever a genuine foodie at heart, so it seemed like it was time. 

I had been using the real in some pumpkin scones recently, but I hadn't yet done a side-by-side taste test.  I didn't make this a blind tasting, but I don't believe that would have mattered.  They taste nothing alike.  I mean nothing.  NOTHING.  Exactly how is the artificial stuff supposed to be imitating the real stuff?  Who in the R&D departments at these artificial manufacturers has decided that the flavors match?  Are they R&D taste testing wannabes who've never developed their taste bud palette surrounding syrup?  Or have they believed the lie for so long they don't know the difference?

I'm not saying that I definitely liked one over the other.  I'm not yet a real maple syrup snob.  I was more struck by the fact that they taste entirely different.  And how did this happen?

Which brings me to the even bigger question.  Are we a society that is so accustomed to the artificial that we have no sense of the real any more?  Is this the result of fast foods and microwaves?  Are the big, "evil" mass production facilities and marketers to blame, taking the root cause even farther back to previous generations where we began to accept sub par canned and bottled goods?  Are we all just so busy that we never take time to taste what we are placing on our tongues? 

I admit, I can be guilty of all of the above.  While I've never been responsible for mass production of food stuffs, I am just as much of a consumer as the next person, often accepting the taste of the mass produced.  I don't have many canned goods in my kitchen, and while I don't usually have canned vegetables on hand, I regularly have canned soup around.  Evidence of my role as a consumer and a mother.  Same with the fast food.  I've definitely done my share of that.  Trust me; I don't want you to review my debit card hits for any number of reasons, including this one.  And I may not use my microwave allot, but I have been known to purchase a Marie Callender's frozen lunch from time to time.  And I shudder to think how often I have eaten without tasting.

Taste.  It is one of the incredible gifts from our Creator that we take for granted.  He didn't have to give us a sense of taste.  He didn't have to create foods that taste good.  He could have given us basic manna to eat all of our lives.  But He didn't.  He gave us onions and garlic and cinnamon and turmeric and cumin and ginger.  He gave us leavening and sugar and flour and a craving for beauty in the things we see and create.  He gave us apples and pumpkins and cream and vanilla beans.  He gave us coffee and tea and butter.

And maple.  OR really maple trees that have this amazing sap flowing inside that some ingenious folks in our past decided to extract and boil down to enjoy.  And then some other ingenious folks decided to imitate this to make it more affordable to the masses (which I don't have a problem with). 

But somewhere along the way the flavor of maple got lost.  The real flavor of maple, so that we have come to accept the imitation flavor of maple as more real than the real.

How many other things have we lost the real taste for without even realizing it?  How many other places do we accept the imitation and have come to believe that it is more real than the real?

Adult Kids

I enjoy my adult kids.  I now have 4 of them, but no grandkids yet.  (I do have a grand dog, but she doesn't really like me unless my daughter isn't around.  After a few minutes of crying when my daughter leaves, you can clearly see Addy look at me and mutter under her breath..."I guess you're as good as it gets for now..." so then she will snuggle, because ultimately Addy is a snuggler and not a player.)

But back to my adult kids.  They are fun.  The hard part of raising them is over or generally so.  I suppose we never really stop parenting our kids, but 2 of the 4 are out of the house, so I'm really just in standby mode for the most part with the 2 of them.  And even the 2 still at home either aren't open to much parenting or do not really need much.  In fact, my youngest - my baby - said that she was good to stay overnight by herself next week while I'm out of town with the other one.  Apparently I'm the only one feeling a bit unsure about this arrangement.  And I can't logically say why.  If you figure that she is 18, and I got married at the ripe-old age of 19, then what is my problem?  I'm a mother.  That's my problem.  The shoe is on a very different foot now, and it seems to be permanently glued to that foot.

Not entirely...

I'm not entirely a morning person.  I hate early morning service desk tickets.  I received one at 5:06 this morning, and once I'm awake, I'm generally awake.  I work in IT, and this is one of the "perks" of the job, but I still have trouble loving it.

Even so, I can't seem to go back to sleep.

My daughter and one friend say that they are skilled sleepers.  I must not be one.

Does this make me a morning person?

It is 5:40am, and I have just slid one of the apple pies I was supposed to bake yesterday into the oven.  I was home and could have done it last night, but I was mentally exhausted.  I wasn't particularly physically exhausted, but I was mentally at my end.  So I went to bed and got up early this morning to bake an apple pie. 

Does that make me a morning person or just really stinkin' sleep deprived?

Ah the big questions of life.  One may never know.

These are a few of my favorite things...

I'm hungry and food is on my mind.  I need to bake two apple pies today.  I also have some leftover corn bread, so I plan to make stuffing to go with baked chicken and mashed potatoes later today. 

I think all of those things are a few of my favorite things.

But here are a few more.  Fresh baked bread and rolls.  Even just having yeast dough rising quietly but so full of potential in my kitchen.  The possibilities...oh...the possibilities! 

Cheese.  More possibilities.  Especially if there are blue veins running innocently throughout, holding such promise for bite and to make my mouth sing.

Cake.  So whimsical.  Who doesn't smile when a cake is around?  And if they don't, well, chances are they are in big need of a smile.  So maybe a cupcake or a cake pop would do the trick.  But back to the whimsy.  Fragile, delicate, sweet crumbs held together with fillings and frosting and hidden architecture to take on the appearance of things much sturdier or living or louder.  But most importantly - taking on the appearance of things celebratory.  Celebrating a person's life and living.  What a glorious thing!  All from the humble yet tricky beginnings of a piece of cake.

The smell of onion and celery sauteing together in butter when I make that cornbread stuffing.  It is a smell I remember from the night before Thanksgiving, when my mother would be preparing the stuffing.  I would be at the table, crumbling up the cornbread, and she would be stirring the onion and celery.  The smell takes me back every time, and it makes me smile and cry all at the same time.  I miss her.

The feel of the cornbread in my fingers.  Cooking is such a sensual combination of sight, smell, sound, touch long before we ever get to the taste.  Or well, while we are getting to the taste part.

Julia Child.  Alton Brown.  Jeff Smith (better known as the Frugal Gourmet).  Fanny Farmer.  I love me some good entreperneurial pioneer spirit, and each of these are or were cooking pioneers in their own way.

My Sisterhood.  For almost two years now, we have gotten together about once a month to cook.  We've done croissants, chocolate souffle, duck al 'orange, Julia's boeuf, some of the most amazing breads you could ever want to pull out of your own oven and pop into your mouth, garlic night, pizza night.  I think the only common denominator to all of the events has been wine.  Even on pizza night when we paired beer with the different pizzas, wine was still at the ready.  As of this writing, we are planning to host a tea in the near future that we hope many of our friends will attend so we can all indulge in tea and scone tasting.  And champagne!

Pastry.  Such a combination of chemistry and art.  Much of cooking can be described as such, but it is truer in pastry than anywhere else.  Over-measuring flour.  Over-working dough.  Forgetting one ingredient.  All of these can be detrimental to the outcome, and the product will be completely unforgiving.  Developing delicate layers of dough and butter so that you achieve the maximum expansion in the oven.  Decorating with washes and sugars to entice the pallette and the eye.  These are the things that keep drawing me back to pastry over and over again.

I haven't mentioned "crisp apple streudels" (but I've come close!) or "schnitzel with noodles" (a taste treat I have never tried, but I need to!), but as I think of cooking for others, these are some of my favorite things.

Which brings me to my last point - others.  If nothing else, food is about bringing people together.  Cooking for others is one of my "love languages."  I want people to feel loved when they come to the table.  For if I have failed in that arena, no matter how gorgeous or tasty the culinary offerings may be, it will have all been for naught.  For people matter most.

Better Late than Never?

So if you are reading this, chances are that I've told you about this blog.  But I don't really have plans to tell people I'm doing this...not just yet anyway.  I want to explore what blogging is like first.  For example, I have no idea what I want to write about.  I love to talk with people about food.  I'm also one of those people who gets what it's like to go through really hard times, times that suck.  I'm also a mother of 4 adult "children" and a woman of faith.  My faith in God (and I mean the Holy Trinity of God the Father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit just so we're all clear how I define the name "God") is very important to me; I am a follower, but I don't have it all figured out by any stretch of the imagination.  My guess is that if I keep this up, readers will get a glimpse into my heart, which includes times of strong conviction coupled with doubts, times of joy coupled with grief, times of excitement coupled with doldrums, times of "too many words and not enough time" coupled with "I have nothing to say."  Such is my life.  And that barely scratches the surface of what is on my mind.

Let's start with the name of my blog - Jus' Deb's Dissertations.  I have a tendency to write lengthy, detailed emails at work that I have called Deb Dissertations for years.  I don't set out to intentionally write lengthy, detailed emails.  It just happens, because by the time I've done my best to explain the issues and the actions that are needed, I realize how long the email is and that most people won't read them.  But hey, my dad trained me to "CYA" so...maybe I just have a secret desire to be a lawyer....nah....

Now for the Jus' Deb part.  I don't mean anything deragatory about me, so please don't tell me about my low self-esteem...that "horrible" disease and problem of the last quarter century or so.

Seriously, don't lay it on me.  If you do, we won't be starting a conversation.  It's a boring one, and I have a whole lot more interesting things to talk about.

Instead I mean, it's jus' me. 

Something troubling you or you need to vent?  No sweat; let it out; it's Jus' Deb. 

Want to talk theology?  No sweat; we may need to grab a brew, but let's talk.  It's Jus' Deb. 

Want to get caught up?  Cool.  We probably only need to grab a cuppa tea, but it's all good.  It's Jus' Deb. 

Need prayer or to confess something.  I'm here.  I will do my best to be kind and gracious and not judge.  I know the sin of which I myself am capable.  I'm Jus' Deb.

I hope to learn about this blogging thing and find my voice.  If you hang with me, I hope it's a fun ride that is helpful and beneficial for both of us. 

Yep, my first post is a Deb Dissertation....a DD...sigh...