requisite happy thanksgiving post.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope you all have a wonderful day filled with family and friends, warmth and love, and thanks to God.


(click photo to enlarge recipe)
xxxxx

roy joseph.

I was searching the WNKU web site looking for the name of a guy I heard on the radio the other day. I found Jay Nash and looked up some songs on itunes, deciding that he's wasn't as great as I initially thought. And then the name Roy Joseph popped into my head, a name from months--enough to be several years--ago, lingering in the backlog of my memories.

I can't remember the exact details of how Roy Joseph came into my life, but it went something like this: It was 2004. My friend Erica had stumbled upon this guy's demo CD. She gave me a copy. I proceeded to replay the CD over, and over, and over again. My heart longed to listen to the CD. This guy, Roy Joseph, had a lilting voice and songs that comforted me, gave me a spring in my step, caused my eyes to tear up, made me want to be different, just depending on what the song was playing. I loved this CD like no other. It was casual and sweet. It was lighthearted and deep. And I despised the fact that there were only 8 tracks to play.

Fast forward to tonight. By now, I had completely forgotten about Roy Joseph. But then hearing John Nash's voice brought Roy's back to mind and all the memories of listening to that 8-track CD came flooding back. I looked up Roy on itunes and it turns out he has an album--a real one, with 14 tracks. I smiled ear to ear and proceeded to listen to every song (as much of them the itunes gods will allow) and I cried. The nostaliga was just too much to bear, I guess.

But anyway, now that I know that Roy Joseph has a real CD (released last September, for the record) I had to share about it, along with some lyrics (which really aren't done justice without the music, so click here to listen to the song):

straight road bends

The weather comes quick, the sun don’t shine
As darkness falls inside my mind
So I reach out for balance against this spin
As the bitter taste of reality sets in
And if it all works together for good somehow
Well it doesn’t seem to comfort me right now

But when I’m looking straight ahead and the straight road bends
And the earth gives way and the walls cave in
Looking for a place to hide from the fears within
When the claims I’ve made I can’t defend
When conviction runs deep and belief wears thin
Looking for a place to start but I’ve reached my end
I’ll know it’s all right, I’m gonna hold tight
That’s where the faith begins...

xxxx

the order of toastiness.

I sometimes daydream of living in California. But then I am pulled back to the reality that is Ohio, remembering not bitter wind or groaning cold, but things like the order of toastiness that I would never get to experience living in perpetual summer.

the order of toastiness.
this involves:
steaming mugs of tea or coffee,
cinnamon toast,
layers of cotton and wool,
soft lighting by candle or bulb,
giant pots of rosemary used as houseplants,
perpetual soup on the stovetop,
rising with the sun.

Here's to scarves and woolen coats, to tweed slacks and warm red wine, to snuggling and vanilla candles, to down comforters and the quiet fall of snow. Here's to the coming of winter.

small town.

Last weekend, my friend Katie spent the day with me enjoying one of the quintessential little towns that pepper the midwest.

Here's a visual journal that highlights our day of walking brick-lined streets, warming cheeks in trinket-filled shops, delighting in vintage made new, and squeezing out the last bits of fall.













(this one is Katie's)

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new favorite blog.

A couple weeks ago my brother-in-law introduced to my new favorite blog, Stuff Christians Like. If you share my sense of humor, then you'll love spending hours reading through all the previous posts. To whet your appetite, here are excerpts from a few of my favorite posts:

The "pray if you feel led" prayer. You might think the prayer "Closer" is the one with all the power, but don't be misled, the Opener is in control. In addition to often choosing the Closer, they set the tone for the entire prayer circle.... More than that, they don't need to worry about the Closer or fear someone cutting them off. They can pray and then relax. Their job is over and done in a matter of seconds.

Church names that sounds like clothing stores. Imagine you're at work on Monday and someone says, "What'd you do this weekend?" You can reply "I hung out at Elevation." Your friend will then say, "Is that the new hip hop dance club? At which point you can then say, "No, it's a church" and then proceed to share the entire gospel with him. OK, maybe you shouldn't do that, but at the bare minimum, saying you went to "Elevation" is going to at least keep the conversation rolling where if you said, "I went to 'God is Awesome, Praise Sweet Baby Jesus Cathedral' over the weekend," your friend is going to throw an imaginary smoke bomb and climb out of a window.

Christianizing your Facebook profile, a how-to guide. Step 1: Your Name: Don't just use your name on your profile. ...Name your profile something like, "Forgiven1" or "WashedinBlood." Step 2: Status: Write something a little longer like, "Matt is stuck in the moment, the moment when my eyes will look up to the Son, the Son that's always been there for me, arms around my life, for now and evermore."Step 4: Quotes: If you don't have a quote from CS Lewis on your profile page, I'm not sure you're a Christian.

xxxxx

sometimes, it's the little things.

I was looking at a recent Target receipt and this is what I saw:



Notice how all my items are categorized. This may not seem like anything to be giddy about, but if you're me then it is. You see, Paul and I are pretty vigalent about recording each and every purchase we make, not only to keep track of our spending as a whole, but also to keep track of our types of spending. So when I enter Target reciepts, which have loads of diffent types of purchases, I have to organize and decode all the items so I can enter them into the appropriate category. But now it appears Target is doing my job for me. Way to go, Target! Somtimes it's the little things that make me happy.

xxxx

happy election day.

It’s Election Day, so I can’t skip out on a voting-related post. Of course, I’d rather poke my eye out than discuss my political persuasion, so here's a little voting history from Yahoo:


Why do we vote on a Tuesday ... in November?

The short answer: We used to be a nation of farmers.

The long answer: Congress chose November because the harvest was over and the weather wouldn't be bad enough to prevent people from traveling.

As for Tuesday, people used to have to travel overnight to their polling location. (In 1845, horse was the preferred method of transport.) In an effort to avoid religious days of rest, Congress chose Tuesday, leaving Monday and Wednesday as travel days. Tuesday was voting (and horse-resting) day.

Be sure to get out and vote today! And after that, just sit back and know that God is in control.

xxxx

i love paris.

Made this for work recently. What a fabulous trip! Brings back great memories of a fun vacation and time in my life. Miss you, girls!

why i hate potlucks.

Nothing like the smell of ground beef to get your day going.

I'm spending part of the morning making crock pot tamale pie for a church potluck this afternoon. Fortunately, the extra hour has afforded me some time to cook. But you know what? I hate potlucks. In fact, I call them pot"bad"lucks. Not only do you have to get up early to make the meal for the potluck--a few extra hours early if you're involving a crock pot, and let's face it, what potluck dish doesn't involve a crock pot?--you have to figure out the logistics of carrying and reheating the dish at the potluck location.

Now, you might be thinking, "Just pick up some cookies or bring a bag of chips and dip." It's true: People who bring dessert to a potluck have it easy. They can bake ahead, sleep in, and forgot about any reheating logistical nightmares. I would gladly make some brownies from a box for a potluck. But, unfortunately, my husband has a penchant for volunteering to bring a main dish-- a habit that is a little annoying considering he's inevitably not the one to actually make the dish. Even if we did sign up for a side item, a bag of chips would be out of the question. It's one thing for a single guy to show up with something ending in "itoes," but married women are expected to cook. I'm pretty sure it's in the church bylaws. (Insert Kristin's mini-tirade on how married women are expected to make cooking their ministry.)

Rather than simply complaining, I might as well do something useful with my time here and share the recipe for tamale pie (which is really nothing like a tamale or a pie, but that's what it's called anyway).

Tamale Pie

1 lb. ground beef, browned and drained
1.5 cups milk
1 egg beaten
1 can corn, drained
1 can diced tomatoes, drained
3/4 c. corn meal
1 packet chili seasoning (I'm hoping enchilada seasoning can make a good substitute)
1 can sliced black olives (optional if your husband hates olives)
shredded cheddar cheese

Mix everything in a crock pot and cook on high for 3-4 hours (I think I usually do close to 3.) Add a bunch of the cheddar cheese on top and let it melt before serving.

xxx

national blog posting month.

November is National Blog Posting Month. NaBlPoMo is a challenge to post every day on your blog without exception and excuse. Yeah, right. While I have no intentions of actually blogging every day for an entire month--I would last, oh, about two days--I thought accepting the challenge of posting more often (let's say a few times a week) would give me the jump start I need to get back on the posting horse. Apparently, I've been a little lazy lately (or so someone named Mom gently pointed out to me). So, here we go....
xxx

eli stone.

It’s hard enough to find a tv show that Paul will sit down and watch with me. It’s even harder now that we got rid of digital cable and have mostly pbs, and E!. (Even I can't handle that much The Girls Next Door.) So I was delighted to recently discover a light-hearted gender neutral show called Eli Stone.

Have you seen it? I was reluctant to watch after seeing previews of lawyers doing dance numbers and elephants walking the streets of New York. But I was pleasantly surprised to discover a uplifting primetime show for adults that is sweet, funny and thoughtful, sans gore and language. (So, I'm sure it will be cancelled soon.) Eli Stone is about a lawyer who starts having visions of the future. He uses the visions along with his legal prowess to help people. Here's a synopsis from abc.com:

With a newfound resolve and sense of his life's purpose -- even if that means being a prophet -- Eli Stone (Jonny Lee Miller, Trainspotting) ended the show's freshman season by making peace with the Almighty and by having his brain aneurysm -- and the source of his fantastic visions -- removed. ...But will Eli's visions cease now that he is free of his aneurysm? Or will they establish once and for all that he is a modern day prophet? The show's second season answers these questions in ways that will surprise viewers and will reaffirm how the show's fresh and accessible approach to issues of faith and spirituality.

I love Eli, I want to get to know him, I want to see his character develop. And it’s not like a tv show is going start to talking about Christ, so having a mention of a higher power, of God even, is progress, and the message of the show serves as a good reminder to us all: You can’t ignore what God has called you to, as much as you try to escape it, and he’ll tug, and tug, and he’ll make his plans happen anyway.

Give it a try--you won't be disappointed! (Especially is you're a girl who likes a {little} more heart and relationship than Fringe, can provide.) Let me know what you think!

seriously?

This can't be for real...can it???

http://www.youvebeenleftbehind.com/faq.html

xxxx

i never talk about god.

You can’t see what time I’m posting today, so I’ll tell you: 12:37 p.m. Wait, you ask, aren’t you supposed to be on your Wendy’s to get a post-second church service home-style chicken Go-Wrap? Yes, I am. But I’m at home, still in my pajamas having just finished off a cup of coffee, slice of pumpkin bread, and episode of Brothers & Sisters. Do I feel guilty? Nope. Should I? Don’t know. But this post really isn’t about whether or not I should have been at church this morning, but more what I’ve been pondering in the absence of doing that.

First, just because I never write about God here, doesn’t mean I don’t ever think about Him. There’s just not a whole lot to say about Him when you’re writing about Lean Pockets, apple orchards, and comfortable shoes. Just wanted to clear that up.

Where am I going with all this random business? Not actually sure. But I really wanted to talk about God because He has been on my mind this morning. And so have the topics of fear and waiting. Such have been the cornerstones of my life: afraid to change, go, trust, connect, try, etc. and impatient in waiting for “my real life” to happen.

I live in an almost constant state of fear—fear that God will turn my comfortable life upside down completely in an instant without warning me that it’s going to happen. And so I try to make sure I have at least one “bad” thing going for myself—kind of like insurance so that something really bad won’t happen. I also try to hold on to parts of my life and keep them as my own so that God can’t have His way with me. In a sense, I really don’t want to know what it would be like for God to be completely in control. I really have trouble focusing on heaven, and the purpose of being here on earth. It’s not about comfort, happiness, fun, it’s about obedience and relationship. Not that these things are mutually exclusive. He just wants it all to be in the context of Him.

I really like the post I just read at the blog, 97 Seconds with God: “I used to be afraid that God was going to make me a missionary and send me to Guam….I honestly thought that if I gave my all to God, that if I turned over my whole life, he would turn it upside down instantly.” Later in the post the writer says, “I think the truth is that when we turn ourselves over to God, he doesn’t make us into someone else. He makes us into who we have always been. He amplifies the parts of us that are true. He purifies the dreams we’ve always had or the skills we’ve always used. He doesn’t turn poets into mathematicians or scientists into painters. If anything, I think he gives artists even more colors to create with, scientists even bigger labs to experiment in…I’m a writer and when I gave my life to Christ, he didn’t ask me to stop writing. In many ways, he asked me to start writing.”

So nothing profound or earth-shattering happening here. Like you didn’t already know that I have fear issues, right? I think it's probably a pretty common concern to some extent anyway. So there you go.

so sweet.

Found this on the seat of my car the other day. I love when I get a sweet little surprise from my hubby as I head out for work. Makes me smile and the day a little lighter and brighter.



Happy Monday!

the dark side.

I went to visit my hairstylist the other day, intending to get rid of my way-overgrown highlights:




**
Yeah, just a {smidge} darker than I intended. I guess that's what I get for telling the hairdresser "do whatever you want." I definitely like it in theory; I love dark hair on people, and I think this color would look awesome on someone else. I'm just not sure about it yet. I'm assured by various people that it's "rich," "New York chic," "very fall," "sexy," and "rockin'." And, hey, if I'm going to pay money for color, it might as well be different, right? Of course, now I need a new wardrobe since I'm no longer a "spring" but a "winter." Honey, where's the credit card ...



**Okay, I feel a little guilty not mentioning that my green eyes
in the after photos might have had a little help from the magic of Photoshop.

xxxx

windy city.

Hello, Kristin, welcome to your first hurricane.

Remnants of Hurricane Ike ravaged the Midwest yesterday. Among other damage, Ike left waist-high floodwaters in Chicago, and near-hurricane force winds left 1.5 millions homes without power between Louisville and Columbus. Read more about it here.

With Cincinnati included in the massive blackout, Paul and I were without electricity for much of yesterday. But we are now among the blessed few to have power restored. Praise God for that, as well as for sparing any damage to our house. Just a few tree limbs are down in the backyard.

The winds were and subsequent blackout were an unexpected end to the weekend. I was playing around the Internet in the early afternoon when the power went out. Nothing like the loss of power to get you up off your butt. I spent some time organizing and cleaning the house, and washing my delicates in the sink. Fresh out of anything else to do that didn’t require electricity, I poured a glass of wine and sat down with Love Walked In. Paul and I ended up at Paul's parents’ house, about 30 minutes NE and also without power. The blackout gave us a great excuse for an impromptu BBQ with the family.

Back to today. I’m sitting here typing up this post from home. My office, along with most of the city (over 500,000 locations), is without power so we get an unexpected day off. After the previous, taxing week, I’ll take it!

An apartment building near our house. Thankfully, no one was injured.

what does this remind you of?

Nope, it’s not a shot taken inside Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s actually from the set of the photo shoot I’ve been directing this week. What, not very scrapbooky, you say? True. Nine-five percent of my time is spent working with suburban, stay-at-home scrapbookers, but every now and then I take on a book from our more “artsy” imprint, with authors that create things like mosaic skulls.

Regardless of the imprint, every couple months I have to spend a week playing hostess to one of my authors and directing a week-long shoot of instructional photos. Typically, the photos don’t involve a “set” like this one; they usually consist of some manicured hands and a gray background. Needless to say, this particular week was…(ahem)…interesting. (It was also trying, but that’s a whole different story.) But, hey—maybe I have a future in crazy set design. What do you think?

xxxxx

road trip.

Last weekend Paul and I made a short (2 hour) road trip down to visit friends in Louisville (that's "loo-uh-vul" for all of you in California). After a stop at Ben and Kristina's apartment we piled into the car and drove down to Starlight, Indiana to visit the orchards and taste the best down-home cookin' I've had outside of Cracker Barrel (hello, best chicken 'n' dumplings ever!--where have you been all my life?). Despite the unfortunate heat, we had fun riding the pickup trailer out to the orchards to pick fresh blackberries and apples at our leisure. Bringing home farm-fresh blackberries, my favorite fruit, was a sweet treat for me; blackberries from the roadside stand is one of the things I miss about Orange County. As I noted how interesting it was that simply picking fruit on a farm was such a novelty, Paul replied that, yeah, I'm sure the Latino men walking the rows as we picked blackberries would beg to differ.

Along with the fruit, I brought home a few photos:

{tim gunn would be proud}

If you don't already know, "Make it work," is Tim Gunn's catch phrase on Project Runway.

Sure, Tim, I'll make it work. I tell my designers that pretty much every day. "You design the book to make it pretty, and I'll make the text work." I often find myself with a bunch of instructional photos, and scrapbook pages and words that don't work together, or don't explain things well enough for the reader, or don't match the concept of a book. Yesterday was no exception. But since rewriting the whole book and taking all new instructional photos was simply not an option, I spent the afternoon reorganizing, tweaking, and coming up with rather brilliant ideas to make the book even better than acceptable. I wasn't sure I could pull it off, so I got really excited about how well I was making it work (I guess that's why I do this editing thing), and it made me think of how Tim would be proud of me.

{lessons learned: Part 2}

I finally get it.

I have been surrounded by teachers for most of my post-college life; almost all of my friends are elementary school teachers, and most of those are early elementary at that. I've always felt pretty sympathetic to the plight of a teacher. With exception of summers off and long holiday breaks, I've never, not once, wanted to be a teacher. I have no illusions about teaching—I know it can be difficult work and frustrating at times (or more often than not!). I know teachers earn their pay and work really hard. At the same time, I have to admit--please forgive me!--that on occasion I’ve been known to secretly roll my eyes at the complaining about “low" salaries (um, hello, you only work nine months of the year), hours of work (um, hello, you leave school at 3pm), and difficult special-needs kids (um, hello, you have aides.)

Well, last weekend I gleaned a little bit of insight into what it's like to be an elementary school teacher. I finally get what my teacher friends were talking about--and I have to say that any complaining is totally justified!

If you read Part 1 of my Sunday School experience in this post, then you know in an effort to finally get involved at church, I signed up to help out with children’s Sunday School this month. This week, the kids were sent to drama class, an opportunity to--with the help of two teachers and myself--dress up and act out scenes from the story of Joseph. Sounds fun, right? Wrong! Well, not for me anyway. I ended up as the babysitter for an exasperating little boy with ADHD (or something like that). The teachers and I were content to let the uncontrollable boy do his own quiet thing with the bucket of costumes while the other kids acted on the other side of the room--at least he wasn’t disrupting or hurting anyone. But every five seconds he wanted to do something different—everything ranging from hiding under the table, sitting in the teacher’s chair, running in circles around the room, to yelling at the other kids, and twirling a rope too close to the face of classmates. And every time you even attempted to talk to him or take away the rope or whatever else, he would scream bloody murder and run away. I’m not trained for this kind of work! How does one deal with this? This kid should have come with an instruction manual. On the one hand, the range of bad behaviors was disrupting to the class, on the other the intense screaming was even more disruptive. Ugh. Anyway, I’m sad to say that over the course of the class, my heart was not softening toward this little boy at all, even though I knew he couldn’t probably control himself. I was angry that he was taking away from the experience of his classmates, and, frankly, taking away from my experience as well.

So, now I see I’m pretty clueless about teaching, but I will never roll my eyes again! I see how immensely hard it is to be a teacher. I only had 15 kids in my class—with three adults. Most kindergarten rooms have no fewer than 20 kids. Now I see why special-needs kids have assistants. And if they don't have help, how incredibly disruptive and difficult that is! With these conditions, I’m really amazed kids learn anything in public school. So, thank you, teachers. Hats off to you! You rock!