It could be worse…

At least we don’t have to make dating video’s anymore…

C.S. Lewis inspiration

Love these two quotes from C.S. Lewis- dude was smart and got it.  I feel like these two accurately describe how I feel about life right now.

“What matters is the nature of the change in itself, not how we feel while it is happening.”

“The main thing we learn from a serious attempt to practise the Christian virtues is that we fail.” #cslewis

Sunday Breakfast

I fell again on my Sunday run.  Unclear why I keep falling, but this time I ran through it and although I cut the run short, I still managed to get a good 8 miles, so that’s good.  I’m undecided as to whether or not I should run the 1/2 marathon I’m signed up for in 2 weeks.

To reward myself for pushing through and running through the pain (and falls) I made biscuits and gravy when I got home.  Nothing like counteracting a really good run with a high calorie but delicious breakfast.  But I love spending my Sunday’s in the kitchen cooking.  It’s so restful for me.  Here’s how I did it:

Biscuits: 

3 cups all purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon of salt

1 tablespoon of sugar (I typically use a little less)

1 teaspoon cream of tartar

1 1/2 sticks of butter (sometimes I do 1/2 butter and 1/2 shortening, just depends on what I have on hand)

1 cup milk or 1 1/2 cups of butter milk (again depends on what I have on hand)

Mix try ingredients in a bowl.  Cut in butter/ shortening with a pastry cutter.  Pour in milk and stir until dough is just formed and still sticky.  The key to good flaky biscuits is not overhandling the dough.  Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and need about 4 times.  Roll out and use biscuit cutters to cut the individual biscuits out.  Bake on 450 for 12-14 min until just brown on top.

While the biscuits are baking start working on your gravy.  I didn’t use a recipe for this, but just kind of did it off the top of my head.

Sausage Gravy:

In a cast iron skillet brown sausage (I used a tube of Jimmy Dean medium).  Remove the sausage from the pan, leaving the grease. The sausage I used was rather lean so I added some butter to the skillet.  Once melted I added about 2 tablespoons of butter and whisked, you want to be careful not to burn it at this point.  And then I added milk- I didn’t measure, but just poured until it looked about right.  (probably 2-3 cups??).  Stirring constantly with a whisk bring the milk to a boil, and then reduce the heat.  Keep stirring, it takes a while but eventually the gravy begins to thicken… you should also have good little bits of sausage you are scraping from the bottom of the pan showing up too.  Once it thickens add the sausage back in and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Pour over biscuits and enjoy… (I highly recomment exercising before eating this breakfast so you can do it guilt free!)

Here’s a few pictures I snapped on my phone of the process.

Gravy at the early stages keep whisking!

Sausage added back into Gravy

Biscuits hot out of the oven

finished product… it was delicious if I say so myself.

Because

…I love CBS Sunday Morning and I’m going to see the Black Keys tonight.  I love it when some of my favorite things in life collide:

Love Letters of Note

I love this website.  This letter from Ronald Reagan to his son Michael before his wedding is amazing, and makes me love him even more than I already did.  http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/05/love-dad.html

In June of 1971, just days before his 26-year-old son, Michael, got married, future-U.S. President Ronald Reagan sent him the following letter of advice. It really is quite stunning.

(Source: Reagan: A Life In Letters; Image: Ronald Reagan, via.)

Michael Reagan
Manhattan Beach, California
June 1971

Dear Mike:

Enclosed is the item I mentioned (with which goes a torn up IOU). I could stop here but I won’t.

You’ve heard all the jokes that have been rousted around by all the “unhappy marrieds” and cynics. Now, in case no one has suggested it, there is another viewpoint. You have entered into the most meaningful relationship there is in all human life. It can be whatever you decide to make it.

Some men feel their masculinity can only be proven if they play out in their own life all the locker-room stories, smugly confident that what a wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her. The truth is, somehow, way down inside, without her ever finding lipstick on the collar or catching a man in the flimsy excuse of where he was till three A.M., a wife does know, and with that knowing, some of the magic of this relationship disappears. There are more men griping about marriage who kicked the whole thing away themselves than there can ever be wives deserving of blame. There is an old law of physics that you can only get out of a thing as much as you put in it. The man who puts into the marriage only half of what he owns will get that out. Sure, there will be moments when you will see someone or think back to an earlier time and you will be challenged to see if you can still make the grade, but let me tell you how really great is the challenge of proving your masculinity and charm with one woman for the rest of your life. Any man can find a twerp here and there who will go along with cheating, and it doesn’t take all that much manhood. It does take quite a man to remain attractive and to be loved by a woman who has heard him snore, seen him unshaven, tended him while he was sick and washed his dirty underwear. Do that and keep her still feeling a warm glow and you will know some very beautiful music. If you truly love a girl, you shouldn’t ever want her to feel, when she sees you greet a secretary or a girl you both know, that humiliation of wondering if she was someone who caused you to be late coming home, nor should you want any other woman to be able to meet your wife and know she was smiling behind her eyes as she looked at her, the woman you love, remembering this was the woman you rejected even momentarily for her favors.

Mike, you know better than many what an unhappy home is and what it can do to others. Now you have a chance to make it come out the way it should. There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps.

Love,

Dad

P.S. You’ll never get in trouble if you say “I love you” at least once a day.

“There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps.”

Dear God- please let me be the woman on the other side of the door someday soon.

Wounds

Five blocks into a ten-mile run on Sunday I wiped out.  Like the most ungraceful trip and fall, water bottle going one direction, iPod going the other, lie on the sidewalk for a few minutes trying to figure out exactly what just happened  kind of wipe out.  I banged up my right hand and elbow pretty good.  Sitting on the sidewalk I assessed whether or not I could keep running.  Feeling like I was going to pass out I called it and walked the short distance back home.   

I was frustrated for many reasons.  I have run/ walked this stretch of sidewalk thousands of times, why am I such a klutz?  Why today of all days when I needed to get in those 10 miles because I’m training for a 1/2 marathon?  My schedule and day is now totally ruined.  I spent a good portion of the morning pouting over this turn of events.  

As I thought about it I began to associate the physical wounds with the spiritual and emotional hurt I’ve been dealing with over the past 3 months.  When will it stop?  How much more can I take?  And I realized the irony of my blog name.  I want proof of a life lived hard?  Well I’ve got it… nasty hand bruise, oozing scrapes and all. 

Here’s the thing about suffering no matter how big or small… it SUCKS.  And yet I’ve been pondering the idea of suffering with hope.  How do I change my response and reaction to shitty situations and real hurt to reflect the truth of the bible and the God I love?  I keep going back to Romans 8:32 “He who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?”  What would it look like if I really believed that God wants to graciously give me all things?  What if I really did believe that God because of his character can’t want anything less than the best for me. 

It is tempting for me to spiral down the negative thought path about my life; I’m 32 and single and I don’t want to be, my career is stalled out, at this rate I will never own a house of my own, or even have my student loans paid off, the ministry work that I do is seemingly failing.  All of these things are true, and yet at the same time none of them are outside of the providence of God.  He has ordained each of my days and if he was willing to redeem my sinful heart at the cost of his own son, how can he not want the very very best for my life?

  “Blessed is the man whom God corrects;

so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty,

For he wounds, but he also binds up;

he injures, but his hands also heal.”

Job 5: 17-18

“But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.”

Isaiah 53:5

It’s counter cultural to rejoice in suffering.  It goes against every natural instinct I  have, and yet I am thankful that God cares enough to discipline me and point out the sin in my heart while continually drawing me back to himself and providing hope in the dark places.  And while I fail every day, multiple times a day to approach my current state of affairs with this attitude I pray that God would continue his good work in transforming my heart to know that this suffering is not without purpose.

Vigilante Justice

I was riding my bike home last night a little before 9:00 pm when I saw what I at first assumed was some kids getting into a fight.  I quickly realized however that they were being chased by a girl whose purse they’d just snatched from I assume where she was eating at a local cafe.  I thought for a quick second turned around and pursued on my bike.  With grand visions of being a hero I followed the kids for several blocks and then down into an alley.  At this point I rode into the alley and then quickly realized how stupid a move that was.  I looped back to the street and rode to the girl who was already on the phone with the cops.  She had a good description, so I just told her where I last saw them and which direction they were headed in.  By the time I turned towards home there was a cop car arriving. 

It wasn’t until later that I really thought through what I would have done if I caught up with them.  Asked nicely for the purse back?  In Robinhood fashion rode by and snatched the purse back?  Unclear.  I love that I live in a neighborhood where I was one of 4-5 people who were chasing down the guy, but there’s only so far I’m willing to go for a stranger’s purse. 

Also a good reminder that we live in a city and that means you have to be smart.  Never leave your purse street side when sitting outside.  It will get snatched.  At least make them work for it a little bit.

My Old Kentucky Home

The one thing that is associated with almost every trip I’ve ever taken to Kentucky (accidental or not) is speeding tickets.   I always think that the state is too backwards to ever find me, but they always do.   Never the less the last two weekends I’ve found myself celebrating the great state of Kentucky and the running of the Kentucky Derby.  A redemption of sorts for my opinions of Kentucky. 

Two weekends ago I attended the annual pre-derby party put on by the Kentucky State Society here in DC.  It was an unfortunately chilly day- but we braved the weather and enjoyed an afternoon at Collingwood Estate in Virginia sipping mint juleps and smoking cigars on the banks of the Potomac.  MS our gratious host was even the winner of the best hat competition!

Photo credit as usual goes to Alison of Red Shoes Photography, and other friends I pilfered from on FB.  I’d left my phone (and thus camera) in a cab the night before…

Roommates representing Paducah!

Colonel Sanders or Esteban?

Celebrating their friendship-aversary!

Cheese Straws

One thing I do not make enough time for in my life is cooking.  I’m not necessarily the best cook, and maybe it’s because I enjoy eating so much, but I love spending a Sunday morning in the kitchen cooking or baking.   I enjoy making good food and sharing it with others over good conversation (and good wine).  It may sound weird, but I find it so satisfying to be able to provide a good meal for friends and know that they’ve left my house full and satisfied.  But maybe it’s just that I enjoy cooking because I enjoy eating.  Who knows.  Alas, I’ve decided that I’m going to start sharing some of my cooking adventures here, in an effort to not only cook more, but to blog more.

I come from a long line of southern women.  One of my favorite things to do is to find old family recipes to experiment with.  They are not always the healthiest options, but they certainly are delicious.  Most recently I experimented with my Great Aunt Evelyn’s Cheese Straw recipe.  I first made them to take to my sister’s baby shower and then again to take to my church community group.

If you don’t know what a cheese straw is you are missing out.  Eating cheese straws with a cold coke in a can is an instant trip back to my childhood vacations at the beach.  This recipe is pretty basic, I add spices/ flavors depending on the purpose.  For the baby shower I kept them pretty mild, but my second batch I added tabasco and cayenne  pepper to give it a serious kick.

Aunt Evelyn’s Cheese Straws:

Sharp Cheddar Cheese – grated (buy a block and grate it yourself, I don’t know why it makes a difference, but it does)

2 cups of flour

1 cup butter (2 sticks)

spices:  tabasco, cayanne, garlic powder, salt, pepper (to taste- I never measure, just guess)

Grate the cheese and let the cheese and butter stand at room temperature for 1/2 a day, unclear if that means 12 hrs. or 4-6 hrs, but you want it to be soft enough that you can easily mix it together.  Combine flour, butter, cheese and spices in a big bowl and mix (I just use my hands) until dough forms.  Now comes the hard part- take a cookie press (if you’ve got one) and press the dough through one of the larger attachements to form the cheese straws.  If you don’t have a cookie press (or if you break it in the middle of the process like I did) you can also just roll the dough out and cut into straws by hand.

Place straws on an ungreased cookie sheet and back at between 375-400 depending on your oven for approximatly 10 min (again this will depend on your oven), but you want to make sure they aren’t too brown when you pull them out.  Let the straws cool on a wire rack.  Also the first time I did them I baked them using my silpat, but I find that they crisp better on the outside if they are cooked directly on the pan, and they have enough butter in them that they won’t stick.

Enjoy!  And good luck not eating them all in one sitting, they are addictive.

This is what the look like after they are pressed, before they are baked

Low Road

Been loving this Grace Potter and the Nocturnal’s song recently:

I’ve discovered that it’s really difficult to blog in the midst of rolling down the low road.  I think I’ve turned the corner and am starting the climb back out, but gosh that sucks too.  It’s hard but worth the effort.  Here’s to sticking with it.

“I held on so dearly

To the wrong things in my life

But now I see so clearly

I was walking into my own knife

You’ve got to get up off that street

Stop looking at your feet

and take a hold of something real…”