Why a Another Cooking and Craft Blog?

Fall is a wonderful time to reflect.  Today I ask the question, "why another cooking and craft blog?"  Well, the answer is simple: I enjoy cooking and making crafts and find both topics very easy to write about.  Not only that, this blog provides both you and me with a record of all the things I've done.  It's all there and easy to access.  Sometimes I want to repeat a craft or recipe and, click, there it is.  Totally practical.  Besides, I can reminisce about all the fun things I did through the years.  Having a record in words and photos means more and more the older I get (and I'm not quite 40 yet!).  It's totally worth the effort!

There are other things I like as much or even more, but have a hard time opening myself up to everyone about.  For example, I am very interested in spiritual things and have spent years of my life researching the depths of Christianity and other spiritual heritages.  I learned a lot and have quite a few opinions.  But writing about those things feels so vulnerable and I tend to be a bit of a closed book.  It may be time to change that, but not today!  I have private journals where I have worked through some of my biggest struggles.  I have pages and pages of spiritual discussion with myself.  Because of my faith background, I feel unable to be vulnerable with everyone in those areas.  I'm honest when people ask me, but putting it out there permanently takes a bigger commitment.

I also really enjoy science.  I used to be a biology teacher, remember?  I recently came upon one of the best books I've found in a long time.  It is a collection of one year's best science writing.  It was older and I bought it at a thrift store, but I think I'm going to get the most recent version soon.  It's called Best American Science Writing.  I've found I like less of the get down and dirty science, but more reading about it and thinking through it.  In other words, I would never want to work in a lab.  So why not write about science?  Maybe I will, but it takes far more effort than writing about my latest craft, and with young children it was more effort than I was willing to expend.  Now, though, it's a real possibility.

Anyway, I write about cooking and crafts because it's fun, light-hearted and I think it's a great way to leave a record of my times as a stay-at-home mom.  I'm not sure how long this season will last, but it's fun while it does!

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Musings - Hairy Cookies

As a young child, while other kids were watching Sesame Street, I sat in front of Julia Child.  Don't get me wrong, I loved my share of children's programming, it's just that cooking and baking held special places in my young heart.  I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that my mom was always making something delicious in the kitchen.

Not only did I like cooking, I was also quite independent.  As a kid I preferred to make my own mistakes along the way instead of having someone tell me how I should do something.  As you can imagine this made for a fun childhood, albeit one full of mishaps along the way.  Baking on my own was something I really, really wanted to do.  

Many times I begged my mom to make something by myself.  So she would let me make jello and other simple things.  I also helped her with the things she was cooking and baking.  But I really wanted to do something totally without parental supervision, something more difficult than jello. At last my mom relented and I she said I could make a batch of cookies.  My neighbor, Kate, helped me with the task.   So, technically it wasn't on my own, but in my defense no parental intervention was involved.

Image found here.

We got the ingredients out and made our cookies.  They were a classic chocolate chip if I remember correctly.  We were proud and they were delicious.  We had followed the directions and were successful.  

Later on that day, my mom's friend came over.  Kate and I were friends with her son.  When he came in the kitchen, I proudly offered him a cookie.  Success, I thought, as he took a bite from the cookie.  Then…yuck!  He pulled a long hair out of his mouth and held it up.  Kate and I had not been careful while mixing the cookies and hair (apparently multiple hairs as we would find out later) had gotten into the batter.  I'm not sure about you, but even when something tastes exceptionally good, the presence of a hair makes it simply disgusting.

We all laughed and joked about cafeteria lady hair nets.

When I stopped laughing the wheels began to turn.  I had a solution.

The next time my mom let me bake I was not going to let a little hair deter me.  Weeks later as I got ready to make my next batch of cookies I employed my new idea.  It was simple and effective and took me through my next couple years of baking.  I took a pair of panty hose, cut off the leg and put it on my head.  It might have looked funny, but my cookies didn't have any hair!


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Video:  The First Cooking With Jill

Musings - Salty Pancakes

Image by Pippalunacy

When I was a preteen I loved to cook on my own.  It was almost a right of passage learning my way in the kitchen.  My mom, gracious as she was, allowed me to endeavor into this world with a little trepidation.  My first true baking venture without parent supervision resulted in hairy cookies.  My neighbor and friend, Kate, helped me with those.  I also clearly remember chunky jello where I thought adding the cold water first was a great idea, because who really needs to follow the directions anyway?  Then there were various concoctions constructed by Cathy and I during our days-long sleepovers.  We made cakes and shakes and who knows what else.  I think her older brothers thought we were nuts.  My younger years were definitely filled with experimentation in the kitchen and I think it served me well.

Needless to say that though I learned from my kitchen ventures, a there were a few bumps along the road.  One such bump resulted in salty pancakes.

I was with my friend, Tara, and we had been playing outside for a good part of the day.  Supper time was nearing and for some reason that I cannot remember, my mom was not home.  I had to be about 12 or so.  Heidi was down the street with her friend and Tara and I decided that we should make pancakes.   We were going to be making them for several people so we decided to double the batch.

At this time in my life, my math skills were a bit weak.  And adding fractions, that thing you thought you'd never really need to know how to do, well your math teacher wasn't lying when she said you would need math in the real world.  Adding fractions is a real thing.

But I digress….

Musings - Blue Hands

I had just been getting over a cold.  Sometimes for me this induces a slight feeling of dizziness.  It's not debilitating or even too disruptive.  It's just an odd sense when I sit still that I feel a bit of a swirl.  I'm sure it has to do with my inner ear or something of that nature.  Anyway, I was experiencing this dizziness and I did not think too much of it.

Just then I looked down at my hands and noticed that they were quite blue.  It was weird.  I began to get nervous and after (wisely or unwisely?) searching the Internet, I thought that maybe my dizziness was somehow related to circulation and I thought I had better call the doctor.

I waited a bit more, not wanting to overreact.  I asked my kids.  Did mommy's hands look blue?  Yes, they agreed that they did.  This sent me into more of a nervous state, thinking that I really had better call the doctor.

My husband arrived home from work and I let him know what was going on.  He looked at my hands and agreed they were indeed blue.  I was very concerned by now and put in a call to the doctor's office.  I let them know of my symptoms and they urged me to come right in.

I got there and sat in the waiting room, wondering what was wrong.  My dizziness was coming and going, but my hands were still blue for sure.  They called me into the room and the kind doctor did a number of tests to see what might be causing the problem.  She, too, acknowledged the blue on my hands but could find nothing wrong by physical examination.  She had me get labs to check blood sugar and various other things, and said she would call me when she had the results.

Once the labs were done and I was home, I sat on the couch waiting and wondering.  I crossed my legs, and as is my habit, rested a hand under my knee.  I sat there for a moment then removed my hand to grab something.  My hand was even bluer.  What was wrong?  The wheels began turning and I put my other hand under my knee and waited a minute.  I removed it and, lo and behold my hand was quite blue.  I walked to the bathroom, turned on the light and promptly began washing my hands.  Blue dye washed into the sink and I began to laugh.

"Derek," I said, "I think I'm going to be fine.  It's just the dumb new jeans.  I got dye on my hands.  I'm such an idiot!"

Not much time passed and I got a call from the doctor.  Labs were normal.  Go figure.  I hesitated but I couldn't leave her hanging.  I had to tell her that yes, my dizziness was legitimate but it was probably just from the cold I was getting over.  My blue hands, however, they were due to a slightly different thing.  I went on to tell her about my jeans and the dye and I laughed and she laughed.  Although it was embarrassing, it was funny.  As I hung up the phone, not only were my hands blue, but my face was red.

And the Greatest of These is Love

Image by Pippalunacy

If I speak in tongues of men but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophesy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trust, always hopes, always perseveres.  

Love never fails.  But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.  For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.  When I was a child I reasoned like a child.  When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.  Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.

I Corinthians 13

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The enormity of the importance of these verses is often lost because of the frequency with which they are quoted.  We read bits of this passage on mugs.  We see it on calendars and hang it on our walls.  It is read at weddings.  As Christians, we hold this scripture dear, but I think we hold it on the surface.

Can you hear what Paul is saying here?  We know in part, we prophesy in part.  Everything we know and understand is one day going to pass away.  That theology we hold dear, the doctrine we just can't let go of.  It's all going to slip away when eternity replaces the temporal.

Don't misread me.  We need our theology and our doctrines because we need explanation and meaning.  These are the things which lead us to God.  These are the things that allow us to have a relationship with the undefinable, indescribable God.  God is reachable because of these frameworks of doctrine.  But let us not confuse the frameworks with God.  God is bigger and better and greater and more love than anything we could ever create.

Love, the greatest of all things, the the thing that supersedes all that we know and are, that is the thing for which we ought to strive.

But truth….

In my few years on this planet I have been preoccupied with discovering truth.  Truth is important.  Yet I know that love is all the more.  In my imperfection, may I choose love that I might please the one for whom I was created to love.  May I choose this thing that will remain even when other things pass away.

Love is elusive, yet love never fails.

God is love.

The Family Vacation

Wacky family picture

Sometimes I wonder if it's worth the disruption to go on a family vacation.  I'm content to sit here in my house and let the kids swim in our small pool.  They are happy to do that.  I'm happy to go on day trips and spend the day nearby.  The kids probably wouldn't mind.  I wonder if all the money and time and effort are worth it.  I think about the years past and all the trouble with public bathrooms and how one child won't go unless it's a private, single stall.  I remember whining car rides to our destination.  I think about the grumpiness caused by lack of sleep and the complaints about food because things just aren't as convenient in a hotel.  I think about the begging and crying and fighting.  It all makes me want to stay home!

Then I stop for a second and reflect.  I call to mind the fun and excitement, and the look in my kids' eyes when they arrive at these new places full of wonder.  I remember my son finally glancing up from his tablet to see the mountains in front of us and saying, "wow".

Go ahead and tell me that egg isn't creepy.  I dare you.

I think about seeing my daughter reel with joy over all the rides at the park especially the roller coaster, even though she assured me one time on that was certainly enough.  I fix in my mind the moments of her learning to swim in the hotel pool only to beam with excitement at how she learned a new skill.

I remember getting to laugh with my husband over the sheer ridiculousness of my children's behavior.  (Sometimes, I will tell you, this is the best option.  Even though the laughing might make the child mad, it throws them off a bit and laughing it certainly feels better than screaming.)

After that I consider my experiences as a kid going to new places and discovering new things.  I remember New Hampshire and how we stayed in the Seven Dwarfs Motel.  My parents may recall it as the craziest vacation ever, but I look back at it with great fondness.  I remember Story Land and even if it was raining, we still got to ride the train.  We rode the Yule Log at Santa's Village and saw the crazy old wolf man from Clark's Trading Post.

I remember how good the tap water in New Hampshire tasted because it came right from the mountains.  I think back at seeing the mountains and the flowing streams and being in awe the same way my kids were now in awe.

I remember our trip to Disney when there were cockroaches in our room and our hotel got rented out to another family while we visited family for a couple days.  As a kid, it didn't matter to me because everything else that happened far exceeded stupid bugs and dumb hotels.  I got to see Epcot in it's infancy.

I remember camping and how we had a three room tent, which was super awesome.  I remember burning my hand on a hot rock that looked cool to me.  I think about sitting around the campfire and sleeping on the ground.

So why do we do family vacations?  We do them because the good far outweighs the bad.  We do them because they are fun and mostly happy (even though the other hotel patrons just heard me yell at my kids for the ninetieth to stop fighting).  When the kids are young, these trips are not really "vacations" but memory makers.  They are full of stress and whining and cold showers and grumpy days.  But they are also full of magic and memory and fun and excitement.  Is it worth the effort?  Definitely.

Musings - Did Somebody Say Amway?

On Thursday I posted a recipe for the perfect pizza crust.  Today, well, let me tell you a not-so-perfect pizza story.  It brings me a laugh whenever I think about it and maybe it will do the same for you.

When I was in high school I starred in a well-known local production called Cooking With Jill.  Okay, okay, I may be overstating it a bit.

I suppose I should back up a tad.

My friend, Heather, was enrolled in a videography class and she needed a subject for one of her assignments.  I forget how she came up with the idea or if I volunteered.  The details escape me.  Regardless, she came to the conclusion that she would record me cooking.  I liked the idea.  It sounded like a lot of fun.  I would cook, she would record.  It would be called Cooking with Jill.

For the first episode we had to come up with an idea of what to cook.  We decided on pizza.  I was going to provide the kitchen, the dough and the sauce.  Heather was bringing the cheese and, because we had run out, the cooking spray for the pans.  This was long before I found out about the joy of pizza stones which, incidentally, require no spray.

Heather arrived at my house and we set up my table.  I got on my apron as Heather set up the video equipment.  We laid out all of the ingredients and readied ourselves for filming.  Heather got behind the