What The ...Fridays

I don't know when I first heard of Funnel Cakes, maybe Regis and Kathie Lee, I haven't watched in many, many years, sorry Reg... you need to retire and Kelly...Not! Anywho, what's not delish' about deep fried dough (Wikipedia informs me it's batter, not dough) so, deep fried batter, cooked by a carnival worker(another little Wikipedia revelation) covered in powdered sugar? Just doesn't get any better.

A few weeks ago one of my neighbors came by with her little 4H girls (4H is like Girl Scouts) they were selling cookie dough. Now I need to spend 17 dollars on a tub of cookie dough, which won't even come close to how many cookies I need to make at a time, like I need to give birth to Octuplets. But, I confess, I'm a sucker for door to door salespeople, by the time their solicitous souls have left my doorstep I will know where they grew up and with how many siblings, what their hopes dreams and aspirations are and will most likely have fed them a hearty meal and lined them up with an eligible member of the opposite sex. I wish this was an exaggeration!

So I obligingly perused the cookie dough brochure, commenting on how fun 4H was when I was a girl, and what were their projects for the county fair? Ah ha! Funnel cake mix. I've heard of funnel cakes but never eaten them I'll by a $17 tub of funnel cake mix; we'll pay for the Octuplets out of the next check.

Fast forward to last night at 9:00 PM several of my children were foraging through the kitchen looking for a sweet treat. I suddenly remembered the Funnel Cake Mix. Note-to-self: You have a no food after 9:00PM rule for a reason.

I read the instructions, 2 cups mix, 1 and 1/4 cups water, mix well, pour into hot oil beginning at the middle in slightly overlapping concentric circles, huh... well, if a carnival worker can do it...

The mix claimed to make 30 four inch cakes. I did some rapid math, 10 people x teenage boy appetites = I know, I'll double the batch wouldn't want to run out of fried dough batter, sprinkled with powdered sugar at 10:00 PM.

I peeled the vacuum packing plastic off the top of the tub, powdered flour flew everywhere. I fished out a packet of powdered sugar, more powdered flour rose in a cloud around me. I dumped powder into a four cup measuring pitcher, my clean kitchen and I were now covered with a layer of powdered flour. I added the water, Uhh...didn't the instructions say pour? I added more water, then more, no room left in the pitcher that will have to do. Hot oil is already filling the house with that hot oil smoke, lovely, tilt pitcher starting in the middle of the pan, pour forming concentric slightly overlapping circles.

What the...

This is what a Funnel Cake should look like.



This is how my, What The... Funnel Cakes look.

Turns out, the word Funnel is a clue, you're supposed to actually use a funnel to pour, not a pitcher filled with rapidly expanding, thick batter. It's a little late in coming but the realization that I'll never be a carnival pastry chef has finally dawned on my doughy battered brain.

Toothsome Tuesday Meets Inspired by you, Wednesday

Yesterday I wanted to share a really good recipe with you... it was a busy day. Today I planned on wandering through your blogs looking for something inspirational... It would be easy. You all teach and inspire me deeply with the glimpses into your lives that you share with our community of co-conblogators.

One of my favorite inspirations is to see comments left by people whose blogs I read, on other blogs I read, I have lost track of who met who first and love that it doesn't really matter. Seems that we make friends the same way in cyberspace as we do in real life. There are just some people with whom we feel a kinship that defies the barriers of distance, background, politics, religion or pudding preference, chocolate or tapioca it's all good... friendship is just transcendent that way.

Speaking of transcendence, friendship and pudding, yesterday a friend was over visiting Adorable Hubby and me. He recently sent his son on an LDS mission and has really struggled with the adjustment; they were very close. Our friend is so caught up in the physical distance between he and his son that he is missing the opportunity for the strength of their relationship to transcend physical proximity and grow on a new level.

As I left Adorable Hubby and friend visiting and walked into the kitchen my attention was drawn to the left over rice on the stove, I had the strong impression that I should make it into Rice Pudding for our friend. I grabbed my cookbook and began the pudding, as I cooked I remembered our friend telling me about his mother making him this treat, he related to me that rice pudding evoked strong, comforting, memories of his relationship with his beloved mother. I wondered if perhaps she was the source of my inspiration, I've never experienced a random Rice Pudding cooking fit before.

I offered a bowl of steaming Rice Pudding to our friend with an explanation of my thoughts that left him and Adorable Hubby confused but, "Feeling Loved," as Adorable Hubby put it.

Somewhere in the past two days of mulling this over I've come to the conclusion that we human creatures get way to locked into the idea that reality must be touched, smelled, tasted, heard or seen to be real. We accept as reality only what our perspective, shaped by the particular set of experiences we have had, can define and categorize.

What if we could transcend perspective and the five senses, experiencing reality more multi-dimensionally? What if it was our friends mother who inspired me to comfort her son in a way she couldn't because he is to caught up in the physical change of not being able to see, hear or touch his son to feel the embrace of a mother who has herself experienced separation from a son she loves?

What if it is as simple as the friendships we have with each other online?

What if the inspiration I feel as I read about Mr. and Mrs. Nurse Boy searching for a church community, or the joy I feel when I see the pregnancy counter on Mummy McTavish's sidebar is physical reality on a different plane.

What if love for friends and family transcends all barriers of space and time, kind of like an infinite atonement?

What if...

Here is the Rice Pudding Recipe just in case you need some reality transcending comfort.

Rice Pudding

2 cups cooked rice
2 cups milk
1 small can evaporated milk (5 3/4 oz.)
1 Tablespoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon Vanilla
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
2 eggs slightly beaten
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cups raisins (optional)

In small saucepan, scald the milks together. Measure raisins into a strainer and set over boiling water just long enough to plump them. In a heavy 2-3 court saucepan combine cornstarch, salt, and sugar, blend well. Stir in hot milk mixture, stirring constantly over medium heat until thick and smooth. Add rice, reheat to a full boil. Remove from heat. Pour a little of the hot mixture (2 - 3 cups) into the beaten eggs while stirring rapidly. Add egg mixture to hot milk mixture stirring rapidly, return to stove and stir until thickened (only a minute or two more) Remove from heat. Stir in raisins, spices and vanilla. Chill. Makes 8 1/2 cup servings.

Thanks to all my transcendent, inspiring friends and family!

Mondays Muttered Mumblings

I remember turning on to my brothers street, on my way to visit or for the few months we lived in their basement apartment, and being greeted by nudity. My brothers little ones just didn't conform to the traditionally held belief that, "Clothes make the man", or little girls, as was the case.

My boys, up to that point, wouldn't leave the house shirtless, so the sudden exposure to public nudity was shocking, challenging my belief that nudity is the perfect answer to the evils of laundry, not to mention several other cultural stigmas.

Then along came my #7, he delights in nudity, he spent his first 4 years wandering the neighborhood in various states of undress. He still refuses to wear underwear unless it counts as pants, and insists on sleeping naked every night.

And that's how it works, according to my 8th grade biology teacher, nature seeks balance. My #7's propensity to life ah naturale has more then made me pay for the many years of fully clothed youngsters I'd prided myself on.

So this balance of nature thing should mean that clear skinned, skinny girls from high school should be chubby and pimply in middle age right?

Grr, biology has let me down, I woke up chubby and pimply this morning. The chubby could perhaps be blamed on ice cream and brownies the night before, well...many, many nights before; but, the pimple, ha! There has to a cosmic anomaly at work because I remember my chubby pimply high school days.

Then I remembered...I WON! That's right! I. Won. Something.

I've been following the Misplaced Americans Blog( see side bar) This is a great blog written by a Mom who is living in Brazil with her Husband and three, "cuter than buttons", little boys. She will be sending lil' ol' ME! a Brazil Goodies Basket.

Yea! Hooray! The Cosmos is safe for another day, I Won!

And the pimple is so worth it.

What The...Friday

#7 has been an interesting child since conception, 1 month early, 9lbs 15oz. He is huge, his feet are Neanderthal. His favorite activity is extreme wrestling, he'll 'take down' anyone. I have a picture in my head that just won't go away, #7's little friend Olivers' big brown eyes, wide with shock and horror as he rolls down the hill at the park wrapped up in one of #7's flying tackles. Oliver I feel your pain.

So here's the funny thing...despite his size and intense physicality, #7 is scared of the weirdest things.

He spent years terrified of sirens, he thought the police were coming to get him.

He was terrified of the toilet, he might get flushed down.

He spent 6 months terrified of birds, they were going to fly up and peck him.

He has an irrational fear of Lions, he's never seen one, even at the Zoo but, one snarl from Daddy is enough to send him hiding under the covers.

Then, most recently, it was monsters, OK, that's pretty typical, but his solution to all these fears is this.

One night cuddling in Mom and Dads bed, where most of his fears have been discussed and conquered, he announced, "I'm not scared of anything anymore, only the Holy Ghost!"

What the...

So much for the Holy Ghost being the comforter.

Aww, #7 you're to fun!

Inspired by you Wednesday (On Thursday)

My sister lives in a tiny town in the mountains of central Utah. And I mean, tiny! There is one grocery store in town, summer hours 7:00 AM - 8:00 PM, they close earlier in the winter. There is an Inter-Mountain Farmers store where you can by everything from chicken feed and garden seeds to oil for the tractor. An auto repair shop, gas station and a hardware store which carries, amongst the guns, walkie-talkies, and tools, some snazzy Carhartt overalls and matching work boots.

When we visit we stay at the Snuggle Inn, which is the location of one of the two restaurants in town, they make a mean pizza, no deliveries, latest order, 8:00 PM. The other restaurant option is Maria's, a classic old school drive-in hamburger and ice-cream stop. That's it! If you need a Wal-Mart fix, you've got an hours drive ahead, craving a Wendy's triple...yep, over an hour on roads you don't want to drive at night.

My sisters boys get up at the crack of dawn to do the chores, it's tough work for a twelve year old and a 10 year old. There is livestock to feed and water, equipment to be maintained, sprinkler lines to be moved, sprinkled occasionally with the exciting birth of, 'Your very own colt'. They are amazing people these nephews and nieces, my sister and her husband.

One of the most unique things about this family is the beautiful art of Cowboy Poetry. My Sister writes poignant, humorous, thought provoking poetry about a way of life that is hard, simple, and nearly relegated to fairy tales of an America long ago. Her sons and daughter memorize then recite her poetry to small crowds of cowboys, grandparents, and tourists. The beauty is, it's not an act, these children live what they share.

My sister and I grew up in a modern town in a modern city, I love to visit this small wind blown town, I love hunting for arrow heads and pottery shards. I love arriving early enough at the one church building in town, to see trucks empty, hats removed, hair smoothed, boots checked for...well, Sundays doesn't mean no chores. Mostly I love to see my sister embrace this life, relish, grow, become one with this life that strengthens your will as it breaks your heart.

My sister posted a tag, if you were one of the first three people to comment and participate by doing the same tag on your blog you get a handmade item made especially for you. So I commented, which means that A) I will get some unique cool gift made just for me by my amazing sister. B) that you lucky people get to fight it out for one of the top three comment spots on my blog.

Restrictions and Limitations: (As taken from Sisters blog, She's is Roger and Cathy on my family blog roll, I added an aside or two.)

1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make! (of course you'll like it)
2. What I create will be just for you. (Definitely)
3. It will be done this year.
4. You have no clue what it's going to be, because I don't even know what it's going to be!
5. I reserve the right to do something extremely strange. (Possibly out of chocolate and sugar)


The Catch: You must re-post this on your blog and offer the same to the first 3 people who comment on your post and agree to do the same!So get ready for your mystery treat... but be prepared to share the love! Oh, and be sure to post a picture of what you get when you get it.

Now doesn't this sound fun.

By the way you don't have to do the contest if you comment!

Toothsome Tuesday

I feel so terrible about forsaking my vow of junk food celibacy. I really, truly hope to catch that wagon, somehow grab hold with my gnawed off fingernail stubs, and heft the five pounds I re-gained onto the tailboard.

Well...that was my plan until I took the, What Junk Food Are You Quiz. My whole family, my mom, my sisters, my brothers all like... five of them that have taken it so far, turned out to be Juicy Hamburgers. Really, does a hamburger count as junk food?

Isn't mindlessly eating vast quantities part of the "junk food" criteria? I mean, who mindlessly snarfs more than one hamburger?

French fries = Junk Food
Salt and Vinegar chips = Junk Food
Almond M & M's = Junk Food
Hamburgers = Not So Much

So it's possible that the whole, What Junk Food Are You Quiz may be flawed; but' despite my, 'reliable data', doubts I took the quiz and it turns out that...

Like chocolate cake, you are friendly, dependable and make a great friend. You're the perfect person to turn to in times of need!

Nice!

I like being Chocolate Cake! Lent, I think your wagon may have passed me by.

Oh! And A Happy St Patrick's Day to Ya!

Mondays Muttered Mumblings

Last week I didn't get much posting in, things were crazy! Here is a recap of the week in no particular order. We'll begin with #7 and his, oh so classy, clothing choices. "Mom, how does this make me look?"

"Uhhh!" I'm brilliant in the mornings.

"Now I have wings!" He flapped happily all morning. (Anyone remember the toilet paper roll bum rockets?)


We also lost one of the remaining 5 front teeth in our family. Such trauma, the new tooth had grown in behind and didn't push the tooth out as it should have so Adorable Hubby pinned him down while Boy Mom pulled the thing out root and all, shudder! It didn't even bleed and #5 got his bike tuned-up by the tooth fairy, that fairy has made flat tire skills.



Yesterday #4 was ordained to the Aaronic priesthood. He will serve as a Deacon, passing the sacrament, collecting fast offerings and serving in our congregation (ward) for the next two years. It's beautiful to see young boys grow into service and awareness of others in our ward family. Sorry the pictures are so blurry, I think I need a new battery in my camera.



Friday at 6:30 PM, just when my family doctor was sure to have gone home for the weekend, #6 did a flip landing his body on the large bean bag pillow in the corner of the room and his head on the corner of the toy box. This acrobatic feat left a gaping hole in his head. Now if this had been #1, or #2, or #3, or #4, or #5 I might have run to the ER for stitches and a $500.00 dollar bill to put next to the picture in the scrap book. Poor #6, after countless suturing observations, Boy Mom occasionally becomes Dr. Mom, cleans the wound, butterfly's the hole shut, covers the whole thing with anti-bacterial cream, a big band-aid, says a little prayer, gives a hug, a dose of Tylenol and sends you out to play.

I don't think it looks to bad, and as Adorable Hubby said, "We flipped a coin to decide on stitches or at home care, since it was our last coin... "


I was released from my calling as Primary President (I was over all the teachers, music, cub scouts, nursery and children age 18 months to 12 years in our ward (congregation). I had expected to serve for another 9 months or so and have loved the calling but am submitting to the Lords timing with only a week of tears and self pity. I do feel I can use the time to focus on my family, it's just been so fun to work with all the children.

I'm trying to get a Drop-in daycare started in my home so if you've guessed which state I live in and know of anyone who would be interested email me at smithrisu@comcast.net and I'll send them a flier. Uhhh, activities referred to, such as bean bag flipping and hanger wings are closely monitored and I would of course never allow your child to flap around my house in underwear, a t-shirt and a hanger for three hours.

And I have a confession, I failed at my junkfoodless Lent observation, I did really well until last week then... apparently it's not a really great pity party with out junk food. Sorry Barbaloot, I'm back on the wagon, well... starting tomorrow.

What The... Friday

On March first, #1's birthday, some girls brought him brownies... Ahh how sweet! Loving Mommy that I am, I transferred them to a glass plate and covered them with plastic wrap so that they would stay fresh.

The next morning I heard his 16 year old brother trying to talk him into sharing his brownies, "Come on dude, one brownie."

"No, they're my birthday present, leave them alone."

"Just one, I'll grab you one too, we need a healthy breakfast." Huh, isn't that bribing him with his own brownie?

"No! Leave them alone!" #1 is grumpy in the mornings, and stingy with his treats.

I grabbed the plate and stuck it in a cupboard so I didn't have to defend the birthday brownies from 5 other boys.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I pull the plate of untouched, rock hard brownies out of the cupboard; I make a mental note to have a little conversation with #1 about hoarding food, sharing, and even an esoteric thought or two about "casting your birthday brownies on the water..."

An hour later I return to the kitchen, the plate is empty.

What The...

We're talking, two week old, stale, rock hard brownies devoured by 6 younger brothers. So much for that little lesson.

So, as is often the case I wrote this, posted it then read it to Adorable Hubby. He, of course always, laughs hysterically or sighs appreciatively at my brilliant writing.

After hearing this post he sat quietly for a minute then chuckled wryly, "I had one of those brownies" he said.

What The...

Mondays Muttered Mumblings

Scroll down below Sundays post to see Mondays, I started it Saturday and forgot to switch it up, that's my Monday for ya!

Sabbath

These are the lyrics to a great James Taylor song, he sings it to a women, I've changed all the she's to He's in reference to the hand of God in my life.

I'd sing it for you but....that would just be pathetic, unless you were under 3 years of age and I was rocking you to sleep, then it would be awesome.

Enjoy!

Oh, imagining a nice 70's acoustic guitar sound in the background is encouraged.

Something In the Way He Moves (in my life)

There's something in the way He moves,
Or looks my way, or calls my name,
That seems to leave this troubled world behind.
If I'm feeling down and blue,
Or troubled by some foolish game,
He always seems to make me change my mind.

Chorus:
'N'(and) I feel fine anytime He's around me now,
He's around me now
Almost all the time.
'N'(and) If I'm well you can tell that He's been with me now,
'N'(and) He's been with me now
Quite a long, long time
And I feel fine.___________

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning,
And I find myself careening
Into places where I should not let me go.
-- He has the power to go where no one else can find me,
Yes, and to silently remind me
Of the happiness and good times that I know, you know.
Well I said I just got to know that:..

It isn't what He's got to say
Or how He thinks or where He's been.
To me, the words are nice, the way they sound.
I like to hear them best that way -
It doesn't much matter what they mean,
Weh (when/well?) He says them mostly just to calm me down.

Chorus:
'N'(and) I feel fine anytime He's around me now,
A-He's around me now
Almost all the time.
If I'm well you can tell that He's been with me now,
And He's been with me now
Quite a long,
Long
Time -
Yes, and I feel fine.

Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!

I fall in love with people, madly, deeply, albeit randomly, in love!

What incredible combination of looks or talent do these, little crushes, possess? I'm glad you asked. If you want me to fall crazy in love with you it would be helpful if you were a bit odd, vulnerable in the way or two of acceptable societal norms.

For instance, if you were an obviously single fella who walks everywhere you go (I see you walking all over town) including to the gym each morning for an hour and a half workout on the Elliptical... I just might fall in love with you.

Or, perhaps, your name tag says, Marcia, you haven't a tooth in your head, you just can't quite figured out that 'dad gum' cash register, but apologize profusely for adding an extra minute to my check-out time, before handing me back my check with a reminder that, "The money will come out electronical." Then, I will most definitely fall wildly in love with you.

Darling Odd Balls beware, you just might have a secret admirer!

What The... Fridays

I guess in a way you could say I'm a big fat liar! I say I believe in the power of prayer, I claim that I trust God...truth is, I get so down on myself for not being all the things I think others are that I won't give myself permission to ask for help when I need it. It occurred to me today that as I stubbornly cling to my self-sufficiency, I'm most likely causing God to bellow down at me...

WHAT THE...

Have I not told you that you are my child?
Have I not answered every prayer you have faithfully offered?
You are never out of my sight or my heart or my influence.
There is nothing you could do to cause my love for you to diminish or die.
When I said not to judge others you were not supposed to judge yourself either, that's my job.
Did I not send Mine Only Begotten Son, even Jesus Christ to pay the price for your sins?
Have I not invited you to, Ask in faith, believing that you will receive, and I will bless you"?
Are your needs not known My little Lilly of the field?

We have no income, we have had no income since January. This is embarrassing and painful for me, and so, I begin the, 'oh so helpful process', of self flagellation. I am an expert at incapacitating myself with blame and accusation, I beat myself up for not being more frugal, for not doing more to seek income for our family months ago. Then,' brilliantly' I dig deeper, into more painful areas of self doubt and judgment, I dig up the past, every mistake I've ever made, every decision that turned out differently then I had anticipated it should. It's not pretty, it leaves me wanting to go fetal in a Hostess thrift store, drowning my fear, hurt and stubborn heart in empty calories and cream filling.

No need to send money, well OK, if you have a bunch of $$$'s cluttering up your otherwise pristine banking account feel free. No, seriously, no donations necessary, actually what I needed was to confess my mistrust of God and seek his loving forgiveness. I also need to make amends with myself. "Mean, self doubting, fearful Boy Mom, say sorry to loving, peaceful, trusting, Boy Mom"

"Sorry."

"It's alright, please don't do it again."

"I probably will."

"I understand."

Thank you dear internet friends for your prayers, love and example, I know that many of you have already stopped reading and offered up a prayer in our behalf, you humble me.

For some really great posts on Christian service and trust in God visit The Nurse Boys Family Devotionals post, earlier this week; and, the One and Only Octamom always delivers an amazing Sunday Selah post, her last two Sunday posts are brilliant.

Happy Birthday!

March 1st was my oldest sons 18th birthday, it has taken me a day or so to get this post written.

How do you express the feelings of a Mother for her first born? Sweet wasn't sweet until I watched him enthusiastically gum his first lollipop. Sour was never the same after watching his little face contort, and sharing that involuntary little 'sour shiver' the first time he tasted lemon.

We have shared so many firsts, the incredible explosion of joy as his first fluttering movements, just below my heart, brought him to my awareness. That marathon week of a first labor; as difficult for him as for me. I can still feel the overwhelming love that suffused my entire being at the sight of his cone shaped head and brilliant blue eyes. I have never before or since experienced such a clarifying moment; everything I thought I knew, thought I was, became insignificant in that instant. I was a mother, he, my child, no power in heaven or earth could loose those bonds.

For 18 years we have expanded, hand in hand, the definition of our Mother/child relationship. I was determined to be the best mother in the world, he, the best son, we have failed over and over again. Yet in our consistency of failure lies our sweet success.

I was determined to be the scheduled mother that I judged mine was not, I rocked my 18 month old to sleep at 10:00AM each morning, I woke him at 1:00PM to feed him lunch, we ran errands or played until 4:00PM when I rocked him to sleep again, he slept until 7:00PM, we ate dinner played with Daddy, back to sleep at 10:00PM. At 1:00 AM, right on my sleep three hours wake three hours schedule, he woke up...for three long hours, we shared stories, movies, late night feedings with his little brother. We became fast friends.

On the morning of his 18th birthday I asked him to run across the street to grab a pair of work boots I needed as an object lesson at church. He glared at me with all the self-righteous adultishness he could muster and muttered, "You could have taken care of this yesterday."

I snorted an incredulous laugh, "I wouldn't be talking, Mr. Scramble to Graduate!" I retorted, full of Momish self-righteousness.

"Uh-huh, now we know where I got it!" He zinged back.

I taught him well, he is a unique blend of my most annoying strengths and beautiful weaknesses. (Yes, I wrote that right).

He's an adult now, legally his own man; but, always and forever my first born son, and our definition of that relationship continues it's living journey, heart in heart.

Sabbath

On the last warm day last November, I took my three little boys to the park, it was getting chilly, 55 degrees and breezy. My boys were carefully dressed in socks, shoes and jackets, I lay on the grass wrapped in a blanket, shivering , trying to soak up enough sun to make it through the cold winter approaching.

On the first warm day last week, I took my three little boys to the park, it's warming up, 55 degrees and breezy. My boys were dressed in t-shirts, they left their shoes in the car, I walked the path around the playground crunching happily through the last drifts of melting snow, reveling in the warmth of approaching summer.

Perspective, it's a beautiful thing!