It Just Seems Natural

This week my clothes told me I needed to jump back on the "healthier choices" wagon. I'm not into dieting. Diet is a four letter word and insinuates an activity that is to start and then finish. I do, however, believe in the "healthy lifestyle." I am living proof, though, that believing in and acting on can be two different things.

Anyway, my jeans whispered sweet nothings in my ear this week and said, "Better. Choices. When. Eating."

I've heard that the healthiest foods are those which are close to their original state. You know, no processing. No additives. No words on the ingredients label that are over seven letters long and you can't pronounce. So, I've been trying to think about what I eat this week. It's been hard. I've done a fair job.

Tonight I was excited to eat. I had just visited my cousin who lives in Smalltown, USA and is having the time of her life with her cow, Mickie, and the chickens. Mickie gives milk. From that, my cousin makes cheese, cream cheese, and butter. The chickens, of course hand over their eggs to anxiously awaiting farm-fresh-egg-lovers.

Tonight's dinner menu was farm-fresh egg sandwiches on 100% whole wheat bread, several slices of no-preservatives-fresh-homemade cheese, and corn on the cob I had bought earlier in the week. (And, no, I didn't slather the corn in butter; ate it au naturale.)





This meal contains more fat grams than I  normally care to consume, but it sure was FRESH! And considerably close to natural ingredients.

Hmmm....now what about dessert? I had on hand fresh pineapple, bananas, and oranges.

But, with farm-fresh milk and eggs in the house, it was too tempting. Yep, creamy milk and eggs remind me of . . . ice cream! Not the kind you buy in the store with ingredient labels a mile long. Oh no. I have the historical don't-mess-with-Granny-Morerod's-ice-cream recipe that includes only four ingredients: creamy milk, eggs, sugar, and vanilla.

OK - I had to fudge a little on the all natural issue with the sugar and vanilla because I didn't have any sugar canes or vanilla beans. But I beat it all together . . .

. . . and hubby churned the ice cream.

And this produced a reasonably natural product. Doesn't it look good?

But, as temptation would have it, my close-to-natural, farm fresh creamy confection turned to:

If only I'd had some cocoa beans . . . .

YES, IT'S TRUE - ANOTHER FREE BOOK!

Still trying to decide whether to buy one of my books?

Let me help. Here's a taste of what you'll find inside:

“OK, let’s get the dastardly deed done,” I said as I plopped into my hairapist’s chair.  At times like this I was glad she owned her own shop and we could have some privacy.

 She put on her stylist coat and reclined the chair. I laid back and braced myself with feet propped up on the counter in front of me. She must have sensed my apprehension.  After all, she is my hairapist. And we’d been through this many times -  too many times for my liking.

 “Karen, why don’t you let me wax your eyebrows. It would be a lot easier.”

“What? And rip that hot wax off my skin? No way,” I said and folded my arms across my chest. 

“OK then.  I’ll pull them out – one by one,” she replied.

Did I sense villainy in her voice today?

She grabbed her tweezers. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and waited for the first pluck. Plink. I squirmed and moaned. But she just kept plucking. She knew our routine. She plucks. I moan. She begins diversion conversation. I answer between squirms. And what seems like hours later, she raises the chair and I look in the mirror. 
“How’s that?” she asks as I examine my newly groomed eyebrows.

“Beautiful. We should do this more often,” I answer with a smirk.

And if you're wondering how all that relates to the life of the biblical Queen Esther, you'll have to buy the book!

Gee...what a coincidence. I just happen to be having a book signing SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. at Nice As New store in Osawatomie, Kansas. LeAnn Stewart is the owner and she has a fantabulous shop with home furnishings (some new and some gently used).  You can visit her website by clicking here.

You won't find anything like this in her shop:

OR this:

You won't even find these:

However, if you need a fur covered jar, or if you were looking to decorate your Christmas tree with bedsprings and pipe cleaners, or if you just ran out of your last plastic head and needed another one, I can tell you where to get any of those.

BUT - it won't be at Nice As New, 640 Main Street in Osawatomie, Kansas. Check out the website here and see what LeAnn has in her store.

 And now about the FREE book . . . 

The first person who comes into

NICE AS NEW

Saturday, April 28 after 11:00 a.m.

and tells me about this offer on my blog

will get the free book.

PLUS...anyone else who comes to

NICE AS NEW

and mentions seeing this offer on

this blog will receive a special gift.

SATURDAY, APRIL 28

11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.

Nice As New

640 Main Street      Osawatomie, Kansas

Don't forget to check LeAnn's website!

Memoirs? Who me?

At a recent writers' meeting, we talked about writing memoirs. Not only talked about them, we were instructed on how to - and then encouraged to go forth and write.

We were told a memoir is about a certain time frame or a certain event in one's life. But all I could think was, "Who wants to read about my life?"

So, I flung the wheels of my brain into motion to try and remember some details of my life that might be of interest to someone - anyone. I thought of some deep, dark secrets. But I'm not sure Grandmas should tell such stuff.

Then, I began to see if I could come up with some interesting, little known facts about myself that some might find interesting, like: I won't drink water or tea with a straw because if it comes up a straw, it should be carbonated. So don't serve me ice water with a straw. End of that memoir.

But let's go back to the time period concept. How about the time period of this cute little girl:

Yep - the girl on the right with the perfect curls that came from sleeping overnight on prickly curlers evolved into the awkward teen with the same kind of curls, just lifted a little higher on her head. And that's her brother. Aren't we precious?






So, when I was red-velvet-dress-with-huge-lace-collar-girl, one of my favorite pasttimes was opening this:

and pulling out this....

Check out the teeth on that wolf! And look at him tied to the pole, tongue hanging out, like he's heading to a rotisserie pit. I distinctly remember listening to this 33-1/3 rpm and being scared to death! The voice was booming, intimidating, and frightening - and this was DISNEY!

Never fear though, I outgrew the scary stuff and moved on to:

Oh yeah - that's what I'm talkin' about - the Carpenters and Cher. Those two artists have probably never had their names in the same sentence before now - but in my 45 rmp collection I had both of these songs memorized word for word:  Hurting Each Other and Gypsys, Tramps, and Thieves.

The same little girl who listened to the chilling voice of Peter and the Wolf evolved into classier music like Gypsys, Tramps and Thieves. What was my mother thinking? But, probably can't blame her. If she'd forbidden me to listen to certain music, I'm sure I would have rebelled and, to this day, still be traveling around the USA in my 1973 VW minibus, trying to find myself and singing Gypsys, Tramps and Thieves and Stayin' Alive.

So there you have it - a small snapshot of me. It just dawned on me: we didn't talk at our writers' meeting how to end a memoir. I think something as fancy-sounding as memoir, should end in a likewise fancy word. So....au revoir.

Easter: Out of the Mouths of Babes

It was Easter. Maybe a rabbit delivered baskets to your house with goodies; or maybe you hunted down eggs that the Easter bunny left behind in strange places.

Personally, I've never made the connection of bunnies and eggs to the reason I celebrate Easter.

So, I'm left a little dazed and confused at times during this holiday.



















Will you bear with me a moment while I reminisce about something that happened earlier this week that reminded me what Easter means to me. And it came out of the mouth of a 2-1/2 year old.

CAUTION: This could get a little deep.

This past Wednesday, our church had an Easter celebration for preschool and elementary children. I was privileged to be in the Story Center where we would tell the story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. (SPOILER ALERT: this sounds strangly suspicious to the reason I celebrate Easter...but keep reading...)

We gathered our first group of children - the 2-5 year olds. We sat on the carpet and hollered, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" as we started re-living the story of Jesus' last week on earth. We (carefully!) passed around a branch with HUGE thorns, reminding them of Jesus' crown of thorns. The children sampled vinegar-flavored grape juice representing the drink Jesus was given on the cross.

In the middle of our carpeted circle, was a make-shift cross. I explained that Roman soldiers put Jesus on the cross and nailed His hands and feet to the cross. Then we took turns pounding on the cross with the hammer.

After story time, we had a little down time before they went to their next activity. Down time with preschoolers is about as challenging as herding cattle cross country. So I started asking review questions about the story.

"And who nailed Jesus to the cross?"

A little 2-1/2 year old shouted, "I did!"

Before I could say, "It was the Roman soldiers," tears filled my eyes and a lump creeped into my throat.

See, Jesus was God and He had the power to come off that cross. But He knew every sin I would commit. He knew every sin that anyone would commit. And He knew His death would take the punishment for all those sins, creating an opportunity for mankind to live with Him forever in Heaven.

So . . . I nailed Jesus to the cross. Everything I'd ever done wrong kept Him on the cross.

But that's not the end of the story. For a moment, it appeared that death had won against Jesus, but - AND HERE IS WHY I CELEBRATE EASTER - Jesus did rise out of the grave!

He is alive . . . and offers forgiveness, peace, and JOY to those who follow Him!

 

 

 

 

Dressing Rooms

For me, the fitting rooms in department stores are sort of like a "house of horrors." And those mirrors have got to be rejects from some carnival's funhouse. You know, those mirrors that distort your body - make you shorter and fifty pounds heavier. I want to know why they can't make mirrors that make you tall and slender. Now that would be a funhouse.

When one of my favorite clothing stores built a new store near my home, of course I had to visit on opening day. My internal shopping radar spotted clearance racks within moments of being in the store. I found it odd that a store had clearance racks on opening day.

I don't have a degree in marketing, but I always thought clearance racks were a store's unsold merchandise from the previous season. But apparantly the other stores in this particular chain forwarded some of their items to entertain (or reward) those of us that braved the Grand Opening.

After I scoured every clearance rack, my cart was loaded with hangers and clothes. A sign reading "wide load" would have been an understatement. Good thing hubby wasn't with me. The site of my shopping cart would have him fearing for a second mortgage.

But what he doesn't understand (probably like most males) is that just because it's in my cart doesn't mean I'm actually thinking about buying it. 

The things in my cart could mean, "I wonder what I'd look like in this?" OR "Everyone else has one of these, I wonder if I could pull it off"

OR "I think I'm still this size" OR "I'll never buy this but I want to know what a $100 dress feels like on my body."

I wedged my oversized transport that opening day in the dreaded, but necessary, fitting room. I was hoping for something like new fangled, helpful soft lighting. Drats! No soft lighting. But look at the hooks in the dressing room.

I appreciate their helpfulness in organizing through my boatload of goods in the dressing room. But if I were making the signs, they'd have to say things like: 

• Who sized these stupid pants anyway?
 
• Risky fashion...text picture to daughter for advice


  
•  Great price, but do I look like a nerd? And is the purse too big?
 

• I shouldn't have had that chocolate milkshake...but if I suck it in...
 
 
 
• This one's a little big...maybe no one will notice
 
OR
 
•  Unnecessary - but gotta have...prepare justification for purchase 

What would your dressing room hooks say?