Deviled Egg Vingettes

Vingette #1:

I toiled over the sink, with gentleness and determination.  My hands all too aware of the fragile treasure they were holding, rotation, rocking slowly back and forth.  Hand to hand.  But my delicate touch proved too rough over and over. 

The white of the shell filling the sink, which I would later remove by hand, since that one simple phone call had not yet been made. That call that would allow a simple disposal to be installed.  But I didn't care about that.  What I cared about was the marring happening by my own fingers.  The egg, coming apart, bit by tiny bit.  And over and over, it was not just the shell that was being removed, but the white itself.  That smooth, deliciousness... gone.  Leaving dents, even craters, in its place.

And there was just one thing I could think at that moment:  "Good thing deviled eggs taste good, even if they look like crap."

Vingette #2:

The eggs are plated.  They are being filled.  My kitchen is a pleasant room, with two smiling girls at my side.

"What are you making?"  my younger one asks, always curious.

When I tell her, the older sister makes a face.  She doesn't care for the name.  But the young one speaks again, acting in her typical way.  She is a compassionate one.

"We can change the name.  We can call them 'the yummiest eggs.'"

So, we did.  We changed the name.

When I was done with the filling, I told her that the cook had the best job.  "I get to sample everything,"  I said, with a smiling eyes.  "Do you want a bite?"

She did.  "Here come the yummiest eggs!" She opened her mouth wide.

As she chewed, she made a face.  She did not think they were yummy.

Thanksgiving Present and Thanksgivings Past

There are two times in the year when you will find me making something with Velveeta chesse product in it.  And this just so happens to be one of those times.  Any guesses on the other one?

I make my green bean casserole a little bit differently than most recipes you see, by simply adding some cubed Velveeta.  It is an amazing difference. 

I also happen to cover the whole freaking thing in the fried onion rings.  That is not how the picture on the container shows you to do it.  And let me tell you, if you follow the picture on the container... you are missing out.  I love the onion rings.

The last two years, I haven't done anything for Thanksgiving.  I mean, I celebrated and ate, but we were blessed to have two different families invite us over and lavish food on us without requiring a thing in return.

2 years ago today, I was just returning from a 10-day trip to India.  And my beautiful friend Carissa asked us to please come over and rest while she provided Thanksgiving for us. 

Last year, we gave thanks with a house full of people from around the world.  Well, okay.  Just people from the US and Ghana.  But it was still fun.  That was hosted by the amazing Ruby. 

So, this year, after two years off of cooking, I'm excited to be having my dad come down to celebrate with us and to cook the spread. 

Preparations started today.  The Velveeta has been cubed.

On Worshipping Others and Not Finding Rest

This blog was unapologetically designed as my personal blog, in which I say things about myself.  It is a window into my life... a glimpse of what I do (duh... hence the name, folks!)

So, you wanna know what I do?

I worship people more than I worship Jesus.  Not always.  Maybe not even mostly.  But sometimes? Yeah, I do.  I worship my husband.  I worship my facebook friends.  I worship the cool kids in town (weren't they supposed to go away after high school?).

And lately, I've been doing it a lot.

I look to them for my confidence and my acceptance.  I base my feelings of worth on whether they appreciate me, include me, respect me, or have patience with me.

And you know what.... it wears me out.  I'm emotionally drained. 

Because they are gods that will never be satisfied.  They are gods who continually need my sacrifice, to whom I must constantly offer my best.  But my best is not good enough.

Today, I am thankful for Jesus.  A priest who offered himself ... once ... and then sat down, having thoroughly satisfied the one true God's wrath, so that I can come to Him with boldness, not needing to worry about whether I'm good enough.

And in this, I can rest.


For more on this, read my post from last fall when I reflected on the exact freaking same thing.

Let Down

Today was the day I've been waiting for for the last month and a half.  But today, I was let down.

There's an IHOP that I drive by often.  5/6 of the year this is no temptation to me, from here on out, it will be no temptation 6/6 of the year.  But since the first part of October, they've had a sign out that started with my eyes and over time worked it's way into my heart and very nearly stole my soul. 

"Pumpkin Pancakes are Back!"

Oh, pumpkins.... how many years did I waste not even tasting you as a child?  But now, I love fall for the colors, yes.  For the hoodies, of course.  But really, it's all about the pumpkin... in my food... all of it.

My desire for these pancakes only grew during my sickness because some girlfriends and I were set to go to IHOP together, but I had to cancel.  Only, I knew that they proceeded without me. 

So, I sent a desperate e-mail asking for company this week, now that I'm feeling 85% back to normal.

My company was awesome (blog post forthcoming).  My pancakes were not.  In fact, they were kinda on the verge of gross.

And, let me tell ya, they were were not cheap!  I had a Simple and Fit pancake combo with scrambled egg substitute, 2 slices of turkey bacon, and 2 pumpkin pancakes.  I also had a coffee.  After the tip, I was out $15.13.  What!

That was one expensive let down.  

I'm Alive!

If you didn't just sing that title like the song from Flyleaf, then please start over.

I don't have much to say here.  In my last post, I said something about being a wuss when it comes to being sick.  That was before I really realized how sick I was.  I only went downhill and was actually on the verge of going to the doctor, but then I started drinking carrot juice.  And I was better the next day.  Go carrots!

So, I've been trying to rejoin society ever since, and it's harder than I anticipated.  While the sick days were a form of torture, they were also a nice excuse to not do much.  Hence, it's been hard to start actually doing things again... things like educating children and making food for my family.

Honestly, though, I'm not really the kind of person that can do absolutely nothing.  I like to describe myself as lazy, mainly because it lowers everyone's expectations of me.  It suddenly is very easy to blow everyone's socks off with my accomplishments of cleaning the toilets or ...if I'm really feeling crazy... dusting the ceiling fan blades (no... actually, I wasn't feeling really crazy this week).

But in actuality, I do tend to get things done around the house.  Even while I was sick, I cleaned up the living room so there was nothing that didn't belong.  (yes... past tense....sigh.)  I also started to go through winter clothes for the kids to see which hand-me-down pants stay up on my incredibly skinny 4 year old.  

So, hopefully, feeling better I will have some things to say about stuff.

I'm Sick

Bleh. 

I'm sick.   And it's not really that bad, but I will admit that I'm kind of a wimp when I'm sick.  I kind of want to just hole up and do nothing and be alone and moan and use it as an excuse to drink beautifully hot coffee (which I did today, but Bruegger's coffee leave a whole heck of a lot to be desired.  Not to self: look to see if there's an Atlanta Bread Company in other parts of the city.)

I also use this as an excuse to watch a lot of HGTV and DIY network shows on hulu.  And to ignore that fact that I'm a parent who is responsible for the upbringing of children.  And to drink Airborne.  Let's face it: drinking Lemon-Lime Airborne is the single best thing about being sick.

I'm almost sick enough that I'm ignoring grammar in my blog post, but I'm not quite there yet.  Except that I did have a fragment up there (and here, actually), but that is a stylistic choice.

And I think I will end here because I am done.  This is every single thing in my brain right now.