Humble pie

{good medicine}

The Undomestic at Christmas

The blogging world is full of impressive sorts.  Domestic Goddesses who can deftly change a diaper with one hand and prepare a four-course meal with the other.  And this time of year?  This is when they positively shine.

I’m am not of this number. 

I am of the undomestic persuasion.  We usually try to keep below the radar – especially this time of year.  When someone suggests the exchange of homemade gifts, we break out in a cold sweat.   And the thought of hosting a dinner party is enough to throw us right over the snow-packed edge.

Occasionally, however, we rise to the occasion.   At least we are valiant in our attempt.

A couple weeks ago, for instance, my friend Kristi and I planned to go to a movie … during the day … while everyone else slaved away at their day jobs.  We’ve been planning to do this since we both lost our jobs, over a year ago – because it’s fun, and we can. 

I offered to make lunch.  This was mistake Number One.  Mistake Number Two was thinking I had more time than I did, followed quickly by Mistake Number Three: using a new recipe. 

Aaah yes, the infamous New Recipe for Company approach. Note, this should only be attempted by professionals – which I so obviously am not.  But like a small pup who thinks he’s big, I always feel a bit more confident than I ought.  So off I set to make a delectable Ham, Cheese, and Jalepeno Quiche.  

When Kristi arrived the kitchen was in complete disarray.  There was a piece of bacon – a whole piece of bacon – flung halfway across the room, and I have no idea how it got there.   I only had half the ingredients in the pie crust, and it was brimming to overfull.  I was attempting to mash it down with my hands as if applying chest compressions. 

Now, you must know, Kristi’s family is not-so-very keen on germs.  This had to be quite the shock – and to no avail, I might add.  It was all for naught.  Thankfully I had an extra pie crust in the fridge.  I pulled it out, flopped it in a bigger pie pan, and plopped in the ingredients.  Then, the baking.  The recipe called for 35 minutes; it took an hour.   By the time it was all said and done, we had fifteen minutes to eat. 

Thankfully, while we waited, I snapped a picture of Kristi, waiting ever-so-patiently, along with her wilting salad (and yes, that is a paper plate you see; and thank goodness, because we would have never had time to do dishes before we ran out the door)…   

Enough said.

The gingerbread ghetto

gingerbread_house

Some friends invited me to join them for dinner and gingerbread-house-making festivities.  I’ve never made a gingerbread house before.  But it looked as though it would be fine.  There was peppermint hot cocoa to inspire and myriad candies and kits to get us on our way.  Piece of cake (or cookie, as the case may be), right? 

Oh so very wrong, my friends. 

I had more issues than I’d care to recall.  There was one flittering moment when I felt I was finally getting my creative groove; I was on my way to making the most fantastical side windows imaginable … then I caved in the wall.  Two hours, dozens of napkins and paper towels later – with icing every which way but set and a floor that appeared to be snowed in – this was as good as it got.   

Before we arrived my friend Kristi as telling me this would be her first experience making a gingerbread house as well.  “I’m just hoping someone’s looks more lame than mine,” she said. 

So behold!  A Christmas wish granted …

A Swedish Sunday

It’s hard to imagine, as I sit here typing, that people back home are just now getting ready for church.  We, on the other hand, are settling in after day full of new friends and family.  It was a day of bible readings and song; a day of sharing tea with friends, and a big meal with extended family.  A day of laughing at our differences, and finding common ground in such things as cars or ice cream.  But most importantly, it was the day of Micah’s blessing.

It truly was precious.  Mom cried during the blessing, I cried during the sermon –  between the two of us, we had tears covered.  What can I say? We’re gushers. There’s just something special about being with a group of believers – you may  not speak the same language, but you serve the same God.  And we could not have been made to feel more welcome.  The pastor gave the blessing in both English and Swedish.  They even had an interpreter for the rest of the service.

And there lies my humiliation …

We were sitting right in front of the interpreter’s booth you see.  As the priest got up to say the final blessing, the interpreter said he couldn’t interpret since the priest was not wearing a mic.  Being ever so polite, I turned around to acknowledge – Chuckle, chuckle! Oh, that’s okay.  Only I didn’t mouth it; I said it–Out Loud.  With earphones on.  It was only when my mom punched my leg and I turned to see her look of mortification that I realized something quite possibly was amiss.

Oj!  Those stupid Americans …

Freak of nature

Happy June – can you even believe?  The year is half over already!  I don’t know about you but I continue trudging toward goals set for the year; not doing a splendid job reaching any of them mind you, but trudging all the same.  This morning, for example, was strength training.  I was informed on Friday that we were meeting at my cousin’s house … something about circuit training … and running … I don’t know, but it sounded somewhat alarming.  This morning I received an email from my cousin.  The subject line read, “Don’t freak out!”  I don’t know where she got the idea I’d be freaking out.  WHO’S FREAKING OUT?!!!!  She continued to say she changed things up a bit – no more running to the park – we’d just meet there.  Okay.  She’s meeting me half-way, surely I can do the same, right?  So I change my clothes, grab my water bottle, and head out.

Now here’s the thing – you know how things look so much bigger when you’re young?  In your mind’s eye you remember such-and-such being SO large, but when you revisit as an adult, it’s nothing of the sort.  The last time I visited Camel’s Back Park I was young; and all I remember of the place is this ginormous hill.  Well, I drive up this morning, and the hill was even bigger than I remember.  It was  HUGE … mountainous even … and my group was at the base, getting ready to run up.  Who does that?!  Obviously not me.  I scrunched down in my seat to avoid being seen and quickly drove away.

Then the weirdest thing happened.  A craving for hashbrowns smote me.  Before I knew it I was beneath the Golden Arches {insert angels singing here}.  All things considered, it’s a beautiful way to start a new month.

Beauty

If, on the way home from a blind date, your date says something along the lines of “I think the thing that makes you MOST attractive is your proficient vocabulary”–the same year as a conversation similar to this–it may be time to work on your beauty regiment.