Steele (the Day)

Tasty Bites: Mission Meatless

// March 28th, 2010 // 2 Comments » // Functional Foodie, Tasty Bites

I totally forgot to post about my recipe over at Ginny’s Tasty Bites on Friday. Stop on over for my favorite version of a “burger!”

Tea today: Stash Green & White Fusion

How I Met Your Mother-in-law (and wish I hadn’t)

// March 26th, 2010 // 15 Comments » // My Fabulous Life

Note: Names have been changed to protect the embarrassed.

Image: Google images

A quick trip to the ladies’ locker room, which is around the corner from my office, turned out to be more than I expected this week. Way more. I’ll try not to be graphic, but I’m still reeling from the experience.

I emerged from the stall (TMI, I know) to be greeted by the backside of an elderly woman, probably in her early 80′s or so. When I say backside, I mean she was nekkid.

(I have to spell it that way. Google will find me otherwise, and I’ll get all sorts of unwanted visitors to this family-friendly spot on the web).

Seeing a nekkid woman there isn’t an uncommon occurrence, as the pool is next door. Women frequently change in the locker room. “Granny” was standing at one side of the double sink, and I proceeded to wash my hands at the other. We chatted about the weather or some minutia. She then leaned over toward me and got really close to me.

“You look familiar. What ‘cher name?” Fair enough. (Remember, she’s nekkid. She’s also soaking wet from the shower).

I told her my name. “You got a last name?” I told her that too.

“Oh, I’ve heard SO much about you from my daughter-in-law, Soozie Swashbuckle! You play tennis with her.” Fake enough name? “It’s so nice to meet you!”

And with that, she reached up, threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. As in tightly embraced me. I could feel her pacemaker, I’m certain.

She was still bare nekkid. She chatted on, totally oblivious to the fact that she was not wearing a thread of grannie panties,  support hose, or as my grandmother would have said “Der Floppem Schtoppem.” When she wasn’t flailing her arms and talking with her hands, she held my hands in hers. She filled me in on Soozie, but frankly, I was so distracted I don’t remember a thing she said. I ‘m pretty sure I just stood there and smiled and nodded affirmingly.

She had a good range of motion, that woman. And she didn’t stand still when she talked. She pranced around the locker room and gathered up her towels, combed her hair, wrung out her swimsuit. She reached for my necklace to tell me how pretty it was, and we discussed her earrings that her grandkids had given her. She leaned in real close so I’d get a good look. Still nekkid and dripping wet.

I told her as gracefully as I could that I had to be getting back to work. She gave me another huge bear hug and told me she’d stop by my office and say hi when she’s there again.

Dang, I sure hope she has her clothes on next time. She was so quaintly unaware of her nekkidness, you’d swear she was Eve before the fall.

I walked back toward my office and met one of the therapists in my doorway.

“How’d you get your shirt all wet?”

I didn’t have the nerve to tell him I’d been bear-hugged twice by a nekkid lady in the locker room.

“Oh, you know how sloppy I can be…”

Tea today: Tazo Joy

Faithful Foundations

// March 23rd, 2010 // 20 Comments » // Faith

In high school, my youngest son sang in our tiny church’s even tinier choir. I’m not sure if he did it because I begged him to or because he really wanted to worship in song. I will always choose to believe it was both.

He went to practice on Wednesday evenings after grueling football or basketball workouts, and got up for church every Sunday to sing. It was much less of a production than I thought it would be, and he never complained. Yet it was with trepidation every week that I asked myself “Will this be the last time? Will he quit?” As a “jock” and a kid known to have more fun than a kid should be allowed to have, there was a good possibility he would bail on choir and not sing any more. That it would not be “cool” enough. That he would move on. I questioned his faithfulness to his commitment as a mother questions many things in a teen boy’s life.

Concluding. Assuming.

"Oh ye of little faith..."

My faith during that season was a conglomerate of desperate worry over things that might, did and didn’t happen. The sad and stark realization that my baby would be gone soon. The question of “Have I done enough?” hovered relentlessly. How could I be sure that he was leaving the nest with rock-like faith that would carry him and guide his decisions for the rest of his life? (Insert heavy sigh here – you’re never sure). At that time I felt like my own faith was doing a slow-motion erosion because worry would besiege me, often in the middle of the night. The worry was fueled by this wild and crazy teenager in the house. By wild and crazy, I mean wild and crazy.

Thankfully, he stayed in the choir. Faithfully.

"How's your faith now"

There was a song the choir sang, “Find Us Faithful, that always reduced me to tears. One line and one line only has become an earworm for me:

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way..."

Every mother hopes and dreams that her children will follow the path of a faithful believer. Faithful to God, faithful to family, and faithful to self. More faithful and trusting than she was. It’s not an easy road, and some of the strongest, most faithful Christians and even pastors I know have expressed moments of doubt. I think God expects that, or at the very least, knows it.

There will be seasons of brokenness and weakened or shattered faith for all of us. Our pride, arrogance and determination to do things our way will always be trumped by God’s plans, and sometimes those plans break us. Much like a broken bone that heals stronger, a weakened spirit that has realized survival comes back with an even more resilient faith.

“We turn to God for help when our foundations are shaking only to learn that it is God shaking them.” – Charles West

This post is part of the “One Word at a Time” Blog Carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley. Visit the other contributions here.

Tea today: Stash Green Ginger Peach

Priorities

// March 21st, 2010 // 2 Comments » // Family

But it’s just a game, right? I was perusing my Nutshell mail this morning when I came across this picture of UNI coach Ben Jacobson at a post-game interview, posted by Chris Hassel from WHO-TV in Des Moines. It says everything any young person should know about basketball – and life.

Priorities.

Image: http://twitpic.com/photos/hassel13

I once heard Dave Ramsey say “If you show me your calendar and your checkbook, I can tell you what’s really important to you.” It’s my guess if Coach had Li’l Jake on his lap after a game like that, he’s also on his calendar. Just look at that sweet face.

This was by far, the best “shot” of the game.

Congratulations, Panthers!

Tea today: Green with Hawaiian mango

Tasty Bites: Not Your Daddy’s Parsnips

// March 19th, 2010 // 4 Comments » // Functional Foodie, Tasty Bites

Growing up, I hated vegetables. I swallowed peas like pills and more often than not I pulled the spit-in-my-napkin maneuver. But I loved my dad’s parsnips. Sliced perfectly and sizzling in butter until they were crispy brown on the edges, they were heaven. The burnt edges were my favorite. It’s pretty obvious what made them so good.

Butta. Betta with butta.

My weekly Tasty Bites guest post is with Ginny over at Make a Difference to One – hop on over!

Tea today: Stash Red & White Fusion

What are you up to, God?

// March 16th, 2010 // 13 Comments » // Faith, Family

Sunday at church, Pastor John talked about how God is always working around us, and sometimes we just miss Him. How do they always seem to know things like that about you? I miss most things, actually, as I take way too much for granted. I’m also sort of a Space Ranger, which doesn’t help the Kingdom much.

I resolved to pay more attention, starting with some spring cleaning. I wasn’t looking for God in a cluttered closet, but if He was there, I was determined not to miss Him. Since this was actually Spring cleaning, circa 1999, I had quite a job in front of me. Apparently it wasn’t the hill I wanted to die on for the last 11 years.

I gutted two closets filled with my trash and another’s treasure. Sheets for twin beds? Nope, none here.  Round tablecloths? I haven’t had a round table for 20 years. Rubber crib sheets? I think not.

Any other time, I would have thrown things in Goodwill bags and mindlessly sent them away. Not this time. Some precious kiddo memories were in that closet. Who saves those things? Apparently I do. Or did. Or still do because I took pictures of the things I pitched.

It wasn’t without a few tears that they went into the gifting pile, but I clung to memories of a tow headed boy reading his picture Bible at bedtime snuggled in those Sesame Street sheets.

Or a beautiful girl’s braided little head cozying in her animal sheets with Cheer Bear.

The kid with a mullet (because that’s what defined a real baseball player of the 80′s) and the innumerable boxes of baseball cards he so coveted.

Lest you think I threw those baseball cards in the bag, fear not (said the Lord). You can bid in the comments section below (the Lord didn’t say that part). Lots of rookie cards, including all the players before they got outted for steroids.

I somehow just strayed from my reminder that God is always working. Did I miss Him?

He apparently showed up in the garage as it got cleaned, too, because He placed on Ron Burgundy’s heart that clutter, grit, and winter sand are not my love language.

Shiny. Shiny is my love language.

Pastor left us with the question we’re to ask ourselves every day – if something good happens, something bad happens, or if nothing seems to be happening.

“What are you up to, God?”

He had been there providing me with a calm, peaceful day with great memories. No A-Ha moment, like I found a Jesus Cheeto lost in the back of the closet, or found Jesus’ face on my toast and went “Whoa, there He is!! He showed up!” I never understood that Jesus toast thing anyway, because I thought those discoveries were people who were seeing what they wanted to see, and quite frankly, the guy in the toast looked more like Fabio than Jesus.

That evening I flopped in the chair with my computer, TV was off, but Ron Burgundy came in and flipped it on to Iowa Public Television where there were having a benefit of sorts. They were playing old songs from the 60′s & 70′s – Herman’s Hermit’s, Tommy James, Beatles, Peaches and Herb, and others. Great music that I loved, my parents hated, and my own kids never knew. Or so I thought.

Peaches and Herb belted out Reunited just like I’d remembered. Not 5 minutes later my phone beeped. I glanced at it and see my Sesame Street sheet/Bible boy has updated his Facebook status. This boy, who over the years has had the lion’s share of my prayers and for good reason. Unbeknownst to me, he had traveled hundreds of miles to western Kansas to visit a friend and colleague over Spring break. His status indicated he had arrived.

“What are you up to, God?”

Tea today: China flower

The tweet heard ’round the world

// March 13th, 2010 // 8 Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

When Nick beautified my blog, he put the analytics right in front of my nose. I’ve never really looked at hits and referrals much, other than to attempt to track down a spam comment or two. Last evening, Ron Burgundy tweeted about me revamping my blog and today when I opened up my dashboard it was apparent that tweet screamed like a banshee (read: my blog had been dying).

Hit to hit. Back to back.

Lest you think that’s a baseball reference, RB used to be a DJ in college. Gotta start somewhere.

Apparently I married up.

For the person who found my blog searching for “fundamentalist logic meets the ozone layer,” there’s nothing here. Sorry.

Ever had a tweet heard around the world?

Tea today: Good Earth Pomegranate Superfruit

“I’m baaaack” – with a cookie

// March 12th, 2010 // 1 Comment » // My Fabulous Life, Tasty Bites

My bloggy hiatus was longer than expected. Things like work and sleep so interfere with life.

Bloglifts are a great excuse when you just can’t get a post done. My friend Nick so graciously offered to help me and worked very hard on my blogoplasty. I bugged him about a lot of silly details like shades of blue and fonts. I’ve heard it said that perfectionists are basically insecure. Must. Find. Therapist. Thank goodness there isn’t a DM limit on Twitter, or the fail whale would be singing the Jaws theme song in my ear.  Though Nick and I speak different languages (he says words like redirect and widget), my lingo is more like sauté and chop. We do have the word enable in common, however. He enabled all of the bells and whistles here and I….nevermind.

Thank you, Nick. You’re a smart kid.

While I get my act together and put some finishing tweaks on this li’l piece of the internets, stop over at Ginny’s blog and enjoy an Overnight Chocolate Breakfast Cookie on me. Tell her I sent you!

Tea today: Jasmine