Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Man Make-Up

In Christendom, there are differing perspectives on whether or not a woman should wear make-up. While men may fuss over this issue, it's so easily settled for wives, as they're all subject to their own husbands. ºÜº

My sons often spend their days here with me looking like a ramshackle barn, and if I lose track of time, while the entry door is opening in the evening, the bathroom door is slamming and locking: "I'll be out in a minute. I'm painting."

Sometimes manly men wear make-up. No matter their age, they just don't seem to have the finesse-of-hand women have acquired.

This is just wrong:

Does Mary Kay still make housecalls?

For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing. ~Ephesians 5:24

Monday, November 24, 2008

Thanksgiving Favorites?

I've been thinking a lot about oysters lately. A lot.

And as a result of that, I began wondering what everyone's favorite Thanksgiving dinner side dishes are.

If you will, use the comments form to name one or more of your favorite Thanksgiving dishes or desserts. I'll begin the cough it up comments with one of my own favorites always on our feast table.

And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful. ~Colossians 3:15

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Povitica and My Scary Little Secret

As a young bride living on Strawberry Hill, my mother-in-law was the recipient of a little Croatian lady's recipe for povitica — the best povitica in the universe. I chose in the universe for a reason, but we'll get to that in a minute.

I wanted to make the sugar cookies yesterday, but I knew if I kept postponing the povitica, it would fall off the list, as it has the past two Thanksgivings, so I convinced myself to make the povitica dough and set it to rise, before starting on the cookies. Noting the kitchen seemed particularly cool, I set the bowl of povitica dough by the woodstove in the living room and began making cookies, not thinking at the time about my scary little secret and how long it was going to take me to get those cookies baked.

As soon as the cookies were whisked off the table, I retrieved the povitica dough, which was taunting, "I'm workin' on triple here. I'm about to triple," and was threatening to climb out of the bowl.

Making povitica requires the whole of our large kitchen table and a draping of said table with a sheet. When Purrle's not guarding the bathtub during the day, he's sleeping on the lowest shelf inside the linen cabinet, and don't even think that's not scary: hanging around in that room, thinking you're all by yourself — as naturally you should be — when the linen tower door suddenly pops open, and a groggy cat walks into your presence. So when I raced to the bathroom for a clean sheet, you can be sure I chose the uppermost shelf of sheets, and for insurance purposes, I reached far into the back for my cloth.

With said pristine sheet on the table, I began flipping flour with abandon...and experienced a momentary disorder of attention: *gasp* "Son4, c'mere! You gotta see this! It's a galaxy! Get the camera!"

Best povitica recipe in the universe.

Back on task and having obliterated my universe, the dough was snaked down the length of the table, and the pulling began.

All hands on board ('ceptin' the photographer, of course,
who did soon set the camera aside and do his share of tugging):

You have to pull and stretch, top and bottom:

The dough didn't want to fit neatly onto the table this time, so I began dissecting it and fitting the pieces to available openings. The dissection wasn't such a big deal, for I knew the povitica was going to take a different, final form this year because of my scary little secret: when I ran the self-cleaning feature of my oven about three weeks ago, I croaked the whole thing. Yes, indeed, a mere 19 days before Thanksgiving, my oven bit the dust. Within an hour, I'd ordered a new one, but delivery is scheduled for the 24th, and boy howdy, they better be meaning what they say. In the meantime, all baking is done in the microwave-convection oven combo, and just not so very much can at once be poked into that little box to twirl in the heat. With table-sized povitica staring us in the face, the search was on for suitably sized receptacles.

Then came the cooked glop:

Next, the rolling and cutting:

The glop was moving faster than I was:

But I finally fitted the last piece of povitica into a pan:

It took 5 hours to bake 5 pans of povitica in a little box, but it will have been worth every hour...especially since I fell fast asleep in the living room during the last five minutes of pan #3, and my darling husband dutifully tended the two remaining pans, including basting each with the cocoa-sugar-butter bath at minute number-40 and returning each to the oven for another 10-minute spin.

Rousing from my unintended sleep, I raced to the kitchen, demanding, "Where's my timer!? Where's my timer!?"

"Calm down. It's okay. It's still in the living room. I turned it off. And this is the last loaf."

*hugging husband*
*mopping brow*

The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him. ~Nahum 1:7

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Thanksgiving Cookies

We picked up SugarPlum yesterday morning for our long-awaited Thanksgiving cookie-baking appointment, but not before I'd played in the floury kitchen mess I'd left the evening before, when I made our gingerbread cookie place cards. Some year in the distant future, SugarPlum will get to help with those, but Nana isn't of a mind to set her feast table with cookies scrawled upon by a 3 year old artist with an icing bag. I do have my limits. One might not think so, though, given this display of juvenile behavior. Don't charge it to my account, because I rarely have an original thought; Son3 did it first.

On this day, the Plum and I made the springerles, and when I had her take a whiff of the anise extract, she recoiled and proclaimed, "Ew, that's DisGusting!"

When the cookies were all baked, cooled, and stored, there was still time for kitchen cuddles.

And paternal tastebuds dot the child's palate, because a mere lick of the beater had produced, "Mmm, that's very tasty!" so she went home last night with two boy cookies and two girl cookies (and three Hershey's Cordial Kisses).

For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light: Ephesians 5:8

Friday, November 21, 2008

Not Quite Remarkable

"Hmmm," I thought, when I up or downloaded photos from the camera this morning. "I guess one just had to be there." The image didn't seem to capture or portray the cause of the unusual feeling I'd had yesterday, when walking back from delivering Bammy breakfast, I noticed the sun shining brightly on the silo, felt the cold, gusty wind out of the north, and spied the seemingly ominous clouds it was carrying our way.

Not one to waste a photo-moment, though, I've made it remarkable and worthy of presentation. I gave us a miniature rhinoceros. I wish it had been a hippo, for I'm captivated by their twirly ears and would like to hug one around the neck, if it wasn't wet and wouldn't bite me. A rhino will do.

What doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to fear the Lord thy God, to walk in all His ways, and to love Him, and to serve the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul? ~Deuteronomy 10:12

Thursday, November 20, 2008


Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord. ~Psalm 127:3a

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

ArtisticNot KnitterSorta Pattern

I'm no artist. And I can only barely knit. But I studied a wrap-of-sorts which caught my eye at Wal*Mart recently, and its construction was so simple as to make me know I could knit one to be mine.

I intend to make it of this yarn, and I only bought two skeins, which may mean it'll barely be the length of a bed jacket -- or worse, a Pilgrim's collar -- rather than the dreamy, floaty shroud pictured in my mind:

Remembering I'm no artist, here's my rendering of how-to:

Measure from the nape of the neck to the point on the arm one wants the wrap to reach. Cast on enough stitches to create that width. Then knit, knit, knit until your rectangle reaches twice the length you want the wrap to be (or you use half your yarn); cast off = Side One. Repeat = Side Two.

Sew together the two rectangles just shy of halfway, allowing 2" to 4" to be swallowed by draping from the nape of the neck to the front, over the shoulders.

And that's a wrap.

But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you. And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other; and him that taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat also. ~Luke 6:27-29

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Too Beautiful

a swing from southeast to east


And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. Having the glory of God: and her light was like unto a stone most precious, even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal; and the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones. The first foundation was jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, a chalcedony; the fourth, an emerald; the fifth, sardonyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, a topaz; the tenth, a chrysoprasus; the eleventh, a jacinth; the twelfth, an amethyst. And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl: and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass. And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. ~Revelation 21:2, 11, 19-23

Friday, November 14, 2008

Don't Stand Up

Plumpo Purrle will take your seat.

That's my sweater he's sittin' on.


For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. Neither is there any creature that is not manifest in his sight: but all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do. ~Hebrews 4:12-13

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Favorite Thing - Lanterns

Everyone should have at least one.

I decided I need two. Mayhap I'm greedy, but I was thinking of last year's ice storm and how I've scavenged -- for dipping pinecones and firebugs -- every tired, old candle we once had.

Charles suggested we look for another at the farm supply store. The farm supply store has some really cool stuff, but I wanted to look at Wal*Mart, where I'd bought the first one, and prices are more in keeping with my shopping comfort zone.
"I bought the other one at Wal*Mart. Let's try there first. I know right where to look."

I was wiggly-happy to discover they're still stocking MY lantern, and the price hadn't gone up a dime. Maybe mine is the only demand, and theirs is an abundant supply.

I haven't fired-up the newer one yet, but just bringing it into the house made me know I had to use a lantern now to light my way as I deliver our bammy's nightly snack. "Here, let me get you my flashlight," offered Son4, who uses his light nightly to gather eggs and secure the coop.

"No, no, that's okay. Thank you, but I wanna use my lantern."

I just felt so Caroline, as I dangled my lantern and made the trek to Bammy's door, and that's what the lanterns are really about. Of course, this lasted about three days, because I am CarolineNot. "Hey, will you run this over to Bammy for me?" and Son4 grabbed his flashlight and was out the door.

But come a snowstorm, I'll be using my lantern again, because it just can't get any better than a lantern in a blinding snowstorm, with a son standing at the back door, beating on a pot with a spoon, so I can find my way back home.

Until then, I remain

But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost: in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them. ~II Corinthians 4:3, 4

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Harold's Trees

A. If you haven't been following this thread and don't know Harold, you can meet him here or simply scroll to the post beneath this one, because that's where "here" is.

B. If I don't have your email address, you don't know I am thinking about things other than Harold and his trees; blogging is such a nice diversion. ºÜº

C. I have no clue why I'm alphabetical today. Looks kinda tidy, though, doesn't it?

D. I visited Harold's trees and took pictures.

Here's the tree the trailcam captures:

These are the little branches
Harold knocked off on the east side:

These are the little branches
Harold knocked off on the west side:

This poor little (former) tree the trailcam can't see:

This used to be the treetop:

I'd thought not to talk about this in deference to Joycie, who suffers mightily with Bambi syndrome, but I've been asked about the advisability of naming a deer we might have for dinner (and we're not talkin' about an invitation). Look away now, Joycie...

Harold-Schmarold. Do you see my trees? Frank, Constantine, Anthony, Bambi. Spy that buck (or Faline) in the crosshairs during daylight hours, and he's wrapped and in the freezer.

For every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving: for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer. ~I Timothy 4:4, 5

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Deer, Oh Dear

I dunno, Cousin Annie. Is he thinkin' about nibbling on that? By the way, I'm told he's Harold, and the young one is Spike.

O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor? Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again? For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen. ~Romans 11:33-36