Steele (the Day)

Dichotomy

// January 30th, 2011 // 12 Comments » // My Fabulous Life

When I left for church today, I knew it was going to be a weird day. I grabbed my Bible, my laptop, my gym bag, and my knitting. I apparently didn’t know what the day held. I wasn’t quite sure where I would fit in.

Turns out everyone “fits” in church. There are all sorts of people there from all walks of life, and (at my church, at least) you could walk in wearing your Snuggie and you would still be welcomed at the door. I just might try that sometime to make sure I’m right. I can think of a couple of people who would laugh. My pastor, for one.  All in the name of Jesus and grace, of course.

As I write this, I’m sitting in Panera. Haven’t been here in years. There are a ton of people here but I managed to snag a cozy leather chair in the corner. The mayor walked in and I greeted him, calling him by his first name. He, in his PC/mayoral way, greeted me back. He has no idea who I am. I saw several other people I should know, have probably met, but couldn’t remember for sure. You know the drill. Sunday noon here is apparently like standing on the corner of See and Be Seen. I was looking for a hiding place of sorts.

I busied myself. Cup of hot water (turns out you can drink free here if you bring your own tea bag), opened up my laptop, paid a bill, and then I brought out my knitting. Yes, knitting. In a place that serves free WiFi and pricey food you can make at home, I’m knitting. I have either become my mother or Amish, but I’m knitting (?!) surrounded by baguettes and apples and Apples and geeks and skinny jeans and North Face puffy vests and Uggs and oft-cursing college kids who can no way afford lunch here unless Mom and Dad are footing the bill or a credit card company sucked them in.

Breathe, Candy.

I’m sitting near a young man and an older man, the former teaching the latter how to operate his new “email box.” Turns out he means “how to turn on my new laptop.” Cute, but not that unusual. Lots of older folks are figuring out where to find Google on the map of life. After all, that’s how I found the mitten pattern I’m working on.

A late-teen/early-twenty college girl approaches me, asking if she can interrupt.

“Sure, have a seat.”

“Can I ask you what that’s called?”

Assuming she knew what a laptop and a cup of tea were, I said “Knitting?” I was surprised she had to ask. Are all of the old crafts gone? We discussed it a bit, I showed her the picture of the hat I made my daughter (adorable, if I say so myself), a few knitting lessons online, and told her she could whip up a pair of mittens with $2 worth of yarn.

“Say whaaat? I paid $60 for these!” as she held up her bright yellow hand coverings with the word “Taxi” on them, which I promptly Googled as classic Kate Spade. I told her how I had learned to knit as a little girl, and knit my way through college with old nursing school pal Beth, the only way we knew to stay awake in lecture.

(Beth would later go on to knit lovely organs like kidneys, pancreas, even a uterus to use for some sort of teaching project. Clearly she was much more into the class than I was, that she could so beautifully multitask in an anatomically correct fashion. She even got all the colors right).

It was a weird but awesomely reflective experience. Young man/old man connect over an “email box.” Young woman/seasoned woman connect over a pair of size 4 needles, worsted grey heather, and a link to a YouTube knitting instruction. She left for the Walmarts – off to buy needles and yarn. She was downright giddy.

Sweet. I just hope she doesn’t start with mittens. Those thumb gores can be tricky. Scarf. Start with a scarf.

I’m hiding my knit/purl behind my laptop screen because I really need to finish these mittens before spring comes. And soon I’m off to the gym, where I hope some young punk doesn’t ask me what I’m doing there because I really don’t know.

I just know you can always learn from both the old and the young. And there is more than one way to cast on a stitch or attach a file to an email.

Also? Youth is not always wasted on the young.

Tea today: Republic of Tea Ginger Peach

Functional Foodie Friday: Artisan Mac and Cheese

// January 28th, 2011 // 7 Comments » // Functional Foodie, My Fabulous Life

You know how sometimes a post is really good (not this blog … others) but then the comments begin, giving the post a heartbeat and a life of its own?

This is about that.

The food? Not quite as functional as my usual fare, but I did my best to healthify it. Whole grain pasta and lots of calcium? That’s the healthy part. Moderation, people, moderation.

Mr. Bradley J. Moore started it with a great post called “Your Artisanal Life” over at the High Calling. He asked the question “What if we viewed our jobs – all of them – as divinely artisanal?” after describing a little shop he passed on his way to a meeting and pondering the word “artisan.” His post was thought-provoking and insightful, in true Brad form.

The picture he posted was of cheese. Yum, cheese.

And then the comments. Somehow they morphed into delightful wordplays, some heady discussion (i.e., over my head) and a mention of mac and cheese. Soon I was smitten and salivating.

(Actually the comments took many rabbit trails and it would be well worth your while to read them. Go ahead. I’ll wait).

Welcome back!

All I could think about after Jennifer Dukes Lee mentioned mac and cheese was one of my very favorite recipes I haven’t made for many years. Then Brad pipes up and said he’d eaten some fancy schmancy mac and cheese with lobster and by that time I was drooling in my tea.

So this had to be done. And I didn’t start it until 9 pm so call me the crazy old lady who’s a cheese snob. It matters not. I only had 8 oz of pasta, no lobster, and I’m left with twice as much of the ooey gooey sauce than I needed. Far be it from me to do the math and make half the sauce. Fondue? Drizzle over scrambled eggs? I will probably do my usual awakening at 3 am (why do I do that?) and think a spoonful of it might just be the thing to put me back to sleep.

I think things taste about 147% better when you’ve been craving them, you’re starving, and then you finally get to sit quietly and slowly savor those awesome married flavors and textures as they tingle your taste buds. I felt so … artisan. And somewhat like a “cross-eyed trendmonger.”

So, dedicated to Brad, Jennifer, and all the mac and cheese lovers out there, I present to you … One. Fabulous. Dish.

ARTISANAL MAC AND CHEESE
(Note: I made this gluten free. The GF substitutes are in parentheses & italicized)

2 ounces Earth Balance buttery sticks
1/4 cup flour OR (1/4 cup minus 1 T brown rice flour + 1 T potato starch)
1 3/4 cups skim milk
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (I left this out. Not because I’m a Christian, but because I thought the cheese was salty enough. It was).
1/8 teaspoon  pepper
1/8 teaspoon allspice
1/8 teaspoon fresh grated nutmeg
1/8+ teaspoon cayenne pepper
10 ounces goat cheese, broken into pieces
4 ounces fontina cheese, shredded
4 ounces Gruyere cheese, shredded
1 pound  medium pasta shells OR (I used Ancient Harvest corn/quinoa pasta shells. These are small and don’t hold a big puddle of sauce, but I like the flavor even better than regular semolina shells)
1 1/4 cups fresh bread crumbs OR (GF crumbs; I grind the heels of my GF bread in the food processor and keep them in the freezer for such a time as this)
About 15 large shrimp, cooked and chopped (I had cooked, frozen shrimp that I thawed in a bit of olive oil on the stovetop)

Melt butter in saucepan. When it starts to bubble, stir in flour and cook for 1 minute. In a separate pot, heat the milk to just below boiling. Slowly pour the milk mixture into the flour mixture whisking constantly. Cook until the mixture bubbles and becomes thick. Remove the pot from the heat and add the spices and cheeses, stirring until melted and well blended. (I always go a little heavy on the cayenne).

Tea today: Genmaicha

Winter’s Grace (or lack thereof)

// January 24th, 2011 // 16 Comments » // My Fabulous Life

“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”

~Hal Borland

The very thought of winter sends a chill…. oh, never mind. I’m not going to wax poetic about the gorgeous snow-laden blue spruce, or the perfectly wind-sculpted drifts across my back yard, or the comforts of a roaring fire during winter in Iowa.

This is about my trip to Sam’s.

Last Friday was our coldest day of the year. We even hit pay dirt when Al Roker announced on the Today Show that we were the coldest spot in the nation at -20 degrees.

Yes, friends. MINUS. TWENTY.

I worked late, then quickly went to the gym before running a few errands. So I left sweaty, but put on my Hugh Jass down coat and figured I’d be warm and it would be a quick trip. The year I bought that coat, I had to trade cars and get an SUV, because yes, I was TOO BIG FOR MY CAR in that coat. I’m too big for revolving doors in that coat.

But it’s really warm.

Tall lambs wool-lined boots. Wool hat. Triple wrapped scarf. Fleece gloves. Bundled in an “I can’t put my arms down!” sort of way. Off to a quick stop at Sam’s hunting for a UNI shirt to wear to the basketball game. You know, since I’ve used all the others as pajamas and they look, well, slept in. I lumbered out carrying my computer bag, my gym bag, a crate of clementines that I bought the day before and didn’t want to freeze in the car, my lunch bag, and my purse. All this stuff got piled in the passenger seat, but of course not from the passenger door. That would have been too simple.

I squished myself in my seat (it’s still none too big when you’re wearing a whole flock of geese that fly down mid-calf) and headed south. When I wormed my way out of the car at Sam’s, my boot slipped on the running board and as I went down, I was praising God for all those geese who were hatched just to protect my backside. I slammed the door, but the seatbelt hadn’t done it’s duty, and it was hanging out the door. I tried to reopen the door.

Stuck.

I unlocked the car and went around to the passenger side, stuffing my keys in my big coat pocket. Of course, I looked first to see if anyone saw me go down. Whew. Except the parking lot security camera probably has it on YouTube by now. Huge coat, enormous boots, hat, gloves, and ear lobes crackling with frozen sweat, I attempted to climb over the shoulder-high pile on the seat so I could push the door open from the inside. Then the car alarm went off. Hindquarters (covered in down) were high in the air as a sweet gentleman knocked on my window and asked me if I was OK.

DID I LOOK OK?

“My door’s stuck.”

“Your car alarm is going off.”

“Really?”

I had nothing to grab but the steering wheel and I couldn’t get enough leverage to get to the driver’s seat as my goose-flock was hung up on my gym bag and the corner of the crate of clementines. He came around the passenger door.

“Would you like me to give you a shove from behind?”

Ummm. No. I silently prayed that objects in down coats aren’t as large as they appear.

After an army-crawl across the car, I gave the door a shove, then tried to find my keys in my coat. Stupid car alarm.  Eventually I ambled into the store, but alas, no wine samples.

I found some UNI shirts and texted a couple of pictures to Ron Burgundy, asking him which ones he liked.

“That lliks nice.”

“Are yoi getimg one to”

“Whaevee you like bess.”

BESS?

Texting pro, remember? You’d think he was the one trying to text in fleece gloves.

The shirt purchased, my work there was done. Once again I will survive winter in Iowa. It’s not always pretty, not always graceful, but it always brings His promise of Spring and perhaps a crocus in the snow.

This post is part of the “One Word at a Time” blog carnival hosted by Peter Pollock.

Tea tonight: Jasmine

Functional Foodie Friday: Noname Soup

// January 21st, 2011 // 11 Comments » // Functional Foodie

It’s a fancy culinary word: Noname.

No-nah’-may.

I know you thought it said “no name” because I couldn’t think of a name for it. Silly reader(s).

It all started with beans. After a recent reorganization and de-glutenization of my pantry shelves, I put all of my bean, grains and pasta in Ball jars.

As in mouse-proof Ball jars. Yes, you’ve seen them before. I like to show them off. It’s the only thing ordered in my life. Well, other than my alphabetized spices.

I have to admit, seeing my brown rice pasta, quinoa, millet, lentils, brown basmati rice, adzuki beans – 18 jars in all – it’s like hunkering down in my Snuggie among bulk bins at Whole Foods. Heaven. I love opening my pantry door and not seeing a mouse seeing all of the choices for dinner.

I threw together this soup on a whim, meaning I had about a cup of cannellini beans that wouldn’t fit into the jar, so I soaked them overnight and cooked them the next morning. Then they sat in the frig for two days. Hating to waste food, I threw them in a pot with other leftovers in the fridge/freezer: about 3/4 cup brown rice, 1/3 cup wild rice blend, 2 chopped carrots, stalk of celery, half a large onion. Then I put in 4-5 cups of water, 2-3 tsp of chicken base, a 15 ounce can of diced tomatoes and sliced up two leftover chicken sausages from the freezer. One was andouille and the other was some sort of spinach/mozzarella concoction. Because some people around here think they need to eat meat (though he doesn’t officially count chicken as “meat”).

Holy cow, this was really good. The beans (love them cooked from dry rather than canned) made it kind of creamy and mixed with the tomatoes it was almost like a bisque. Without the butta. So I don’t have a recipe for you – just go to your fridge and start throwing things together. You’ll be surprised at how good it tastes.

Tea today: Yogi Green with Goji Berry

Functional Foodie Friday: Azteca Squash Soup

// January 14th, 2011 // 6 Comments » // Faith, Family, Functional Foodie, Hover over my pictures

You guys (and girls) are going to have to trust me on this one. Come on, step out in faith. Like Peter, getting out of the boat.

Twice.

Last Sunday’s message is still fresh in my head. Loved it. Even the third time.

You’ll love this soup, too. It is awesome, almost spiritual. Even though it seems weird. Trust me.

And it’s nothing but good for you.

Why am I writing in these weird short sentences?

I consulted the internets after roasting a couple of adorable butternut squash. (Surely I’m not the only one who refers to food as “adorable.”) These are particularly good roasted rather than steamed or simmered. Really brings out the natural sugars.And of course, I got to use my all-time favorite kitchen appliance.

Vrooooom!

I started with this recipe and made a few switcheroos. Wish my avocado had been ripe enough to use.

Azteca Squash Soup

olive oil spray (I used my Misto)
2 lb butternut squash
1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 large chopped onion
1 cup chopped celery
1 cup chopped carrots
2 garlic cloves, minced fine
6 cups chicken broth
1 tsp cumin
15 oz canned black beans, rinsed, drained
1 cup frozen corn kernels
1 cup chopped red bell pepper
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 Tbsp chopped fresh thyme
1 large diced jalapeño pepper
1 avocado, sliced

Preheat oven to 400°F.  Spray baking sheet with olive oil, sprinkle halves of squash with sea salt and fresh ground pepper. Place cut side down on baking sheet. Roast squash until tender, about 1 hour. Scoop squash into medium bowl and park it in the kitchen somewhere to hang out.

Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium heat. Add onion and saute until almost carmelized, about 12 minutes.

Mix in celery, carrots, and garlic; then add 1 cup broth. Cover and simmer 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add squash, 5 cups broth and cumin. Cover and simmer 20 minutes to let the flavors fall in love with each other. And marry.

Puree soup using immersion blender (or regular blender) until smooth. Add black beans, corn, bell pepper, cilantro, thyme and serrano chili. Cover and simmer over low heat for 30 minutes.

Season to taste with sea salt & pepper and top servings with sliced avocado and a dollop of plain greek yogurt.

Tea today: Trader Joe’s Jasmine

I Break Stuff

// January 11th, 2011 // 13 Comments » // Faith, Family

Reflecting on this week, the angst of brokenness is all too palpable. The shootings in Arizona. The news of a friend with a dismal diagnosis. A plane crash killing a local physician and his passenger, one who has cared for my family for decades.

It’s everywhere, and I’ve come to expect it. Stuff happens.

But I also thought about how much breaking I’ve done on my own over the span of my life. The first time I can recall “breaking” (or in this case, ruining something) is when I spilled nail polish on my mom’s brand new tablecloth in the living room when I was probably about 7. You know the kind of tablecloth – it’s round, and it fits over one of those K-Mart cardboard tables to pretend there’s really a table under there, but actually it’s a flimsy tablecloth holder-upper. The polish was a bright pink, and as the bottle tipped, seemingly in slow motion, I knew the new tablecloth was a goner. I also knew Mom had probably squandered grocery money from the family budget to save for it.

It was going to break her heart.

I mopped up what I could, then moved an ash tray to cover it up. (We had a lot of them back in those days). It was several weeks before Mom noticed. Now, not only was her new tablecloth ruined, but I had broken a little piece of her heart. I just didn’t tell her I did it, but I’m sure she knew. My dad and brother didn’t often wear nail polish.

I never apologized. Now that’s a broken person right there.

How many other times have I snubbed a friend, dashed a hope, or walked away from someone in need, only to leave them in some state of brokenness? How often do I break my self-imposed rules of order, exercise, or nutrition? What about those resolutions? Not necessarily the ones made at the start of the New Year, but the ones I resolve throughout my life. It’s like I’m dared to break them.

Every time something breaks, a little something dies. It changes the mood, the intention, or sometimes a life. We can choose to let that brokenness affect our hearts, our attitudes, and our actions in one of two ways.

NO or GO.

NO, I’m going to stagnate and be paralyzed in this brokenness or GO, do something about it.

I know someone who was broken once, nearly to the point of rock bottom. Though rational thought told me it was not my fault, I bore a lot of the responsibility for it. When you love someone, you coach and mentor them through the big and little breaks, you help them understand that broken is what we are and it has a purpose. I don’t think I did that very well.

But God did.

He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.

~Psalm 147:3

Boy, did He. A broken spirit, heart, and body was transformed into a life lived for Him, centered around His desires for relationships and community, and only looking back at the broken to see how far the blessed journey has come. Just like I didn’t break it (this time), I didn’t fix or redeem it.

The choice was GO. With Him. It’s always the best choice.

Even though I continue to break stuff on a daily basis – chip a favorite plate, ding a fender, or snap a favorite piece of jewelry in half, that stuff doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that He fixes and redeems his children’s hearts, loves them into redemption, but often brings us to our knees to find the parts in us that are broken.

I learned a long time ago, when He brings me to my knees, He’s fixing something. And it’s going to be good.

This post is a part of the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival hosted by the amazing Peter Pollock. Visit his site for the other entries on Brokenness.

Tea tonight: Young Hyson

Texting with Grandpa (Alternately titled “One Ringy Dingy”)

// January 10th, 2011 // 14 Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

Image: sportsmemorabilia.com

It’s only been in the past year or so that Ron Burgundy has learned to text. He’s progressive like that. I remember the first time he attempted to send a text message a couple years ago on an old cell phone using T9. We were sitting in a restaurant with one of the kids, and I was trying to get him to text our youngest son.The process didn’t take well. His first message?

“AAA”

Whatever. Luke wasn’t sure if he was stuck by the side of the road, in pain, or losing his journalistic skills. Besides that cryptic message cost him 20 cents, as did the reply that said “Huh??”

The whole situation is sort of a conundrum because he does a lot more difficult technological things like shooting and editing video with complicated software, some great effects and wiring nine thousand Christmas lights to our master substation. But texting, until now, was just a bit more complicated.

Now that grandparenthood is on the horizon, we have officially become old, but not too old to learn. Just a mite slower.

Texting was created for guys like him – he’s a two-finger typist who has never known or practiced the “home row” method. Once I mentioned the “QWERTY keyboard” to him, I got the deer-in-the-headlights look. Even so, RB has finally embraced smartphone technology, and tries to get me to believe that indeed, the home row is meant for two fingers (or opposable thumbs, as it is). He’s pretty active on Twitter and has more friends on Facebook than the average bear.

But the real progress is texting. He cracks me up when he puts a salutation in his texts “Dear Katie….” or “signs” his texts to the kids: “Love, Dad.” And he texts me more frequently, sometimes with misspellings. And then he corrects them in the next text, but really, I got the message. I know “lpve yot” means “love you.”

I’m trying to get him to learn some abbreviations, but since now we’re officially old aging boomers, I found it quite convenient when I was recently sent a key for texting for seniors. It’s a win/win for us. Every marriage needs consistent and relevant communication to, you know, keep that spark alive.

Enjoy our new lingo:

ATD: At The Doctor’s

BTW: Bring The Wheelchair

BYOT: Bring Your Own Teeth

CBM: Covered By Medicare

CUATSC: See You At The Senior Center

DWI: Driving While Incontinent

FWB: Friend With Beta Blockers

FWIW: Forgot Where I Was

FYI: Found Your Insulin

GGPBL: Gotta Go, Pacemaker Battery Low!

GHA: Got Heartburn Again

HGBM: Had Good Bowel Movement

IMHO: Is My Hearing-Aid On?

LMDO: Laughing My Dentures Out

LOL: Living On Lipitor

LWO: Lawrence Welk’s On

OMMR: On My Massage Recliner

OMSG: Oh My! Sorry, Gas.

ROFL… CGU: Rolling On The Floor Laughing… And Can’t Get Up

SGGP: Sorry, Gotta Go Poop

TTYL: Talk To You Louder

WAITT: Who Am I Talking To?

WTFA: Wet The Furniture Again

WTP: Where’s The Prunes?

WWNO: Walker Wheels Need Oil

GGLKI (Gotta Go, Laxative Kicking In)

There you have it. Seniors, WRDS*

*We rule da skool

With that, I’m packing my gym bag and he’s off to kick boxing. CUL8er

Tea today: Trader Joe’s Organic Green

Functional Foodie Friday: Black-Eyed Pea Chili

// January 7th, 2011 // 2 Comments » // Functional Foodie, Hover over my pictures, My Fabulous Life

I have a confession to make: I have never experienced Black-Eyed Peas. I didn’t even know we had them in Iowa, and I knew their music wasn’t on my iPod. But here’s the deal. When I reorganized my pantry, I shopped incessantly at the bulk bin section of my local health food store and I thought those black-eyed peas were simply adorable. So much so, that I needed a jar of them in my pantry.

Just for cuteness. And looks.

Aren't they precious? They have little...black eyes!

Then on New Year’s Eve day, I googlized the Internet for some black-eyed pea recipes, only to learn that they are a traditional New Year’s dish in the South. I could make this happen. We are south of Minnesota, after all. This probably isn’t a Southern recipe, but I wouldn’t have a clue.

I put together a chili-like soup based on this recipe. The first problem I had was that it called for “pork cheeks.” Now I’m not sure which end of the pig the “cheek” is, but if it’s anywhere near the end used for head cheese, or on the north end of a pig headed south, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with them. However, I did have a small pork shoulder in the freezer just begging to be slow-cooked and shredded, so I decided to use that.

I also left the ale out of the original recipe because all I had here was a sorghum beer and I wasn’t sure that would work. Also? It was way too expensive to dump in a chili and ruin both the beer and the chili if the flavors didn’t get along. So the beer shall sit in the garage for another year. Poor thing.

The end result of this was to die for. I tried to lighten it up as much as I could, trimming most of the fat from the pork. Not being much of a meat eater (and particularly pork), I thought the flavors and textures were fabulous. Plus half of this household LOVES meat so you gotta keep ‘em happy.  And those black-eyed peas? They’re really cute cooked, too.

And yes, this is smoky hot. I know you’re surprised.

For the record, boys, RB gave this three thumbs up. He had to borrow one of mine. He’s not that freaky.

“Oh wow.” Then “Really good.” Then “Oh man.” He’s typically a noisy eater (we’re working on that) but he was really a whooping and hollering over this meal. It would have been a total embarrassment if we’d had dinner guests.

The next day leftovers? This was officially declared the “best soup ever” by RB. “I hope you wrote the recipe down.” Yep, I did. I have to agree, despite the meat, this is one of my all-time favorites. The pork was so tender, we’ll be able to eat it without our dentures in the years to come.

Black-Eyed Pea Chili

8 ounces dried black-eyed peas, picked over and rinsed
1 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander
1 1/2 teaspoon paprika
3/4 teaspoon cumin
2 pounds pork shoulder, trimmed and cut in 1 inch cubes
2 tablespoons (give or take) extra-virgin olive oil
4 oz center cut bacon, diced
1/2 large onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 jalapeño, finely chopped
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
15 oz can fire-roasted tomatoes
1 canned chipotle in adobo, minced (I used about 3/4 of the pepper – lot of heat here)

Soak the peas (are they really peas? Or are they beans?) overnight in a generous pot of water. If you like, you can do a “quick soak” and bring peas to a boil, then let sit, covered for an hour. Drain and rinse.

In a medium sized bowl, mix the coriander, paprika and cumin. Toss with diced pork.

Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add just enough pork to cover the bottom and brown for 7-8 minutes. Transfer to a plate and brown the remaining pork, adding oil if needed. Doing this in batches gives you a nice color to the meat.

Wipe out the pan so no fat remains. Add the diced bacon and brown until crisp. Drain on paper towels. Remove bacon fat from the pan but don’t scrape up the yummy brown bits in the bottom. They’re … yummy.

Add about a teaspoon of olive oil then add the onion, garlic, jalapeños and bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in bacon. Return the browned pork to the pan, along with any accumulated juices. Add the chicken stock, tomatoes, chipotle, and black-eyed peas; bring to a boil. Cover and cook over very low heat until the meat and beans are tender, about 2 1/2 hours. It’s unlikely you will need any salt, but be generous with fresh ground black pepper.

Suggested toppings: plain greek yogurt, sour cream, cilantro, shredded cheese. We just had it plain with a crusty bread. As in “dip and slurp.”

Tea tonight: Genmaicha

One Word 2011

// January 2nd, 2011 // 19 Comments » // Faith, My Fabulous Life

It took some prayerful thought to come up with One Word 2011. I almost passed the whole idea by, but as I resolve (not a New Year’s resolution, but a life resolution) to be more focused on things that matter (I almost chose focus for my word), my prayer is that something would nag inside and keep me accountable.

Besides, I love Alece, she has a heart as big as the whole outdoors (no, I’ve never met her but I consider myself a very good judge of character) and I thought the whole “older woman” participation thing would give her project some diversity.

I come bearing wrinkles. And a catch in my get-along.

As of 11:15 this morning, I didn’t have my “word.” I couldn’t find it. I even went through dictionary.com last night and fell asleep in the middle of the C’s.

Committed. That’s me, but stretched is more accurate. Consistent. Setting myself up for failure. Conundrum. That’s where I….fell… asleeeeppp.

Then today at church we sang one of my favorite songs: Hosanna. And everything seemed to fit into this season of my life. Poignant words and phrases. One of the best bridges ever written, in the opinion of one who appreciates good music but can’t carry a tune in a bushel basket.

My One Word leaped off the projection screen.

I see the king of glory
Coming on the clouds with fire
The whole earth shakes
The whole earth shakes

Yeeeah

I see his love and mercy
Washing over all our sin
The people sing
The people sing

Hosanna
Hosanna
Hosanna in the highest

I see a generation
Rising up to take their place
With selfless faith
With selfless faith

I see a near revival
Stirring as we pray and seek

We’re on our knees
We’re on our knees

Hosanna
Hosanna
Hosanna in the highest

Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me

Break my heart for what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdoms cause
As I go from nothing to
Eternity

Hosanna
Hosanna
Hosanna in the highest

Hosanna in the highest

My One Word: Seek.

Seek Him more – in prayer, in worship, in quiet, in the Word, and yes, even at work.

Seek knowledge and wisdom in the old and new.

Seek patience.

Seek good in everyone.

Seek my voice for this random piece of the Internets.

Seek you, fair reader. Who are you and what brought you here?

Seek to fulfill my purpose.

Seek first to understand, then to be understood.

Seek a faith that absolutely, positively can’t be shaken. Ever.

And as per the diagram above – locomote. I love that word.

Seek is just one word, but it sends ripples of verbiage into the the pool that is this season of my life. Who is to be known. What needs to be done. Who needs to be asked. Who I need to help.

And if you’ll notice, none of this seeking process happens in a vacuum, standing still, or alone.

And that’s the way I like it.

Seek.

Tea tonight: Green with Pomegranate and Acai