Monday, April 25, 2016
But not the huge pile of dishes in the kitchen. So after a time I rallied myself and the troops. Jube and Havilah got the laundry together and while Jube was sorting it, Havilah tried her hand at peeling apples. But her hands were too little in spite of her willing heart.
So Jube took over… and things kind of got carried away from there. In one way I suppose you could say that wisdom would have dictated that I just put the peeled and cut apples in the fridge. However, since he was having such a good time I decided to let him run with it. So Jube made apple pie today.
I did core and slice the apples. He read the recipes himself though and did most of the measuring. He learned how to use the scale. I didn’t let him handle the caramel in the saucepan though. (I use Grandma Ople’s recipe. Google it if you’re curious.) We doubled the caramel recipe so I had him think that math through.
I was disappointed that the pie crust didn’t behave as well as I would have liked, but that’s kind of normal for me. I ended up having to do a lot of the rolling out, but he pieced it into the pie pans then. I did a good part of the first one to show him how, then went out to hang up laundry while he did the second. He was a little worried that the one he pieced all by himself wouldn’t be up to snuff, but it was just fine.
He liked the fork part. I thought about doing something a little more elaborate, but with the way our crust was acting, this was best.
We fled the kitchen once the pies were in the oven. I needed some quality time with the air conditioner by then, but we paused the documentary we were watching to come give the pies an egg brushing and sprinkle some caramel flavored rock sugar on top.
I did end up needing to give them one more egg brushing that Jube doesn’t even know about. But he did a good job and we made happy memories.
He was disappointed that his crimping wasn’t tight enough and some caramel bubbled out the edge on this pie. But seriously…would that keep you from eating it?
It always amazes me how pretty pies look, as varied as they come, made by master cooks or amateurs alike.
Another happy thing that happened today is that we had water for most of the day. It did go down to a trickle at one point and was off for just a bit this morning…but I did a lovely amount of laundry today. So thankful for that.
And now it’s bedtime. Goodnight.
Friday, April 22, 2016
I can’t call myself a writer. I can write. I like to, generally. But a real writer writes when they’re happy ‘cause they just must. They also write when things are rough, just because that’s what they do…it has to come out and they have to process this way. Not me. I quit writing.
All through my journals there are quiet periods from time to time. I can probably tell you why there is a missing period of time in my journal, but I will most likely say, “I don’t remember much of it, just that it was dark, but I forget details.” I still do this. I found my journal this morning when I was looking for something else. I don’t know when I wrote last.
Now I see it happening on my blog as well. Sometimes a hole in the journal means nothing more than that I’ve been writing on the blog instead. But holes in both mean more than that.
One thing that has changed though is that I can talk when the going is rough. I will tell certain people. Melinda used to accuse me of not talking. She was right. I’d tell her later that I’d been really struggling two months ago. Then the pieces would fall into place as to why I responded in one way or another back then. I talk now. Not to everything to everyone, but a little to several and more to a few. I’m sure, too much to others as well.
So, why haven’t I been blogging? I’m seven month pregnant and the temperatures are well above 100 degrees everyday around here for the last several weeks. We’re in drought and at our house, we run out of water for periods during the day. Somewhere along the line I’ve picked up a sort of cold that has my sinuses full and makes me dizzy. I’m still trying to get the iron back up where it is supposed to be.
Most of you women probably understand the ramifications of this. The nagging knowledge of what isn’t getting done while you drag yourself through your house, accomplishing only the bare necessities. The dirty bathrooms and floors, the kitchen with all of it’s uncleaned crannies, the syrup that’s been spilled at the bottom of the refrigerator and pooled under the veggie drawer—and it’s been there for two weeks—all of these things do not qualify as bare necessities.
I try to get laundry done around the sporadic water schedule. Dru bought me a big blue jug to sit by the kitchen sink and store water. Now I can do dishes in the morning, before it gets too hot to be in the kitchen. I sweep the floors now and then. And I do make meals—but not all of them. Sometimes I say, “I am not cooking tonight.” And poor Dru either cooks, takes us out, or goes to buy rice and bring it back to us.
Then there is the guilt that I should be feeling for what I am not getting done, but really I’m not feeling guilty much. Why waste perfectly good emotions on that which guilt can not change? I tend more towards despair and even resentment. Actually, even when I’m not pregnant, I can tend towards anger when it’s so hot outside.
So why be blogging? You just saw my whine list? It was neither very uplifting or encouraging to anyone. I didn’t mention the other hard stuff we are facing right now and I’m desperately hoping Dru can find peace in his heart for, once and for all. And here is the fatly pregnant, tired lady-- who doesn’t even do a good job of praying through all of that. Now enters the guilt. I fell asleep last night when I had decided to spend some time praying before sleeping.
So, to those of you who pray for us, now would be a good time to pray.
And I will try not to blog again until I can think of happier things. There are still happy things in our lives. Like Rennie is a lot of fun right now. He’s decided that he’s not a baby but a little boy. We’re enjoying all of our kiddos these days. Maybe in the end, it’s the kids that we press on for. In their own little ways, they provide a goal and a glue through it all. I know that they’re what make me get out of bed every morning anyway.