I make strangers feel bad about themselves

Two friends of mine (K and A) were telling another friend of theirs (whom I've never met) about me and our farm and our kids.  They told her all the things I do and share here and on facebook.  And how she should meet me or at the very least, read this here blog.

Do you want to know what she said?  "I don't want to know her, she'll make me feel bad about myself!"

K told me this as a joke and at first I thought it was funny.  But the more I thought about it, the more it bugged me.  I certainly would NOT want that to happen and I'D feel bad if it did.

Then I gave a seminar on canning and one of the women raised her hand and asked if I slept at night.  Again, "ha ha ha".  But putting these two events together has given me some food for thought (and apparently an intense desire to cook with tortillas...)

So to those of you who think that I do too much or wonder how I sleep or whatever it is that you wonder, I'd like to share why strangers should not feel bad about themselves:

1.  I am not successful.  There you have it.  Whatever projections you have put on what you think my life is like, it is very much a work in progress.  God is gracious with me as I figure it out.

2.  My house, most days, is a disaster.  I love a clean, orderly home.  I crave it.  It brings order to my mind when I have order in my world.  I used to have it.  When I was single.  Then I married someone who does not crave "a place for everything and everything in its place".  He's more of a "leave it out so I can see it" kind of guy.  If you think this may have caused some strife, you would be correct.  And then we had three children in three years who managed to inherit this gene from their father.  So I live with a desire for neatness and order and four humans who live to work against me.  {insert sigh and head in hands here}  And then there comes a point when I can't take it anymore...But (and here's a grace part) I'm married to a man who knows when I've reached my limit on chaos and spent the entire day while I was at work yesterday cleaning the house with three children age three and under.  (Which, if you've ever attempted that feat, is second only to the parting of the Red Sea under the heading of "Miracles God has Wrought".)  Even the bathroom!  You cannot know the joy of walking into my picked-up house, I almost wept.

3.  I don't watch TV.  That will be hard for 99% of Americans to believe, but I don't.  When we got married (and then quickly pregnant) and decided that I would stay at home with the kids, one of the ways we cut expenses was to not have TV.  As someone who was a faithful TV watcher back in my wild single day (and all the other non-wild ones), this seemed a bit extreme.  But guess what?  After a month, I didn't miss it a bit!  And now, after almost 5 years, I really can't stand TV.  When I travel and flip on the hotel TV, there isn't anything that interests me except maybe the History channel or the Food Network.  You would be amazed at the money you save and time you have to do all the those things you've always wanted to do.  I've had people tell me, "Well, I don't watch that much TV.  Just a couple of shows."  Well, then that's a colossal waste of money for just a couple of shows.  And if you're watching enough TV to justify the expense, then that's a colossal waste of time.  That will be hard for 99% of Americans to swallow.  But the most often comment I get is:  "I don't know how you have the time to do all that you do!"  There it is.  That's the secret!
One of my favorite quotes is from H. Jackson Brown Jr.:

“Don't say you don't have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.”

I can guarantee THEY weren't sitting in front of the television or playing on their iPad.

4.  As to the question of whether I sleep at night, you bet I do!  The only insomnia I have is a tiny red-haired person who sleeps in the next room and needs to eat every night at 2am.  Most evenings I don't do much.  I'm a morning person, so I get up and go and then crash after supper to read to the kids, play a game, snuggle on the couch before they go to bed.  Then I come downstairs and work on the computer for a while, blogging or farm bookwork or responding to emails.  I'm usually in bed by 10, read with Hubby for a bit, sharing good passages with each other.

5.  I love our farm!  I love gardening.  I love livestock.  I love cooking and baking.  I'm doing WHAT I love every day with the PEOPLE that I love.  If you can't say that, then change what you're doing and start doing what you love with the right people.  You can get a lot more accomplished in a day when you're motivations are right.  Just "puttin' in your time" and "cashin' checks" isn't the way to spend your life.

6.  When I come to the end of my life, I don't want to look back and say "I was always waiting for that big day".  EVERY DAY is a BIG DAY.  It's the only one I've got.  Ann Voskamp says, "Who am I to deserve another?"  Think about that for a minute.  That one will set you back on your heels and curb the "if onlys".  What if this is all you have?  Was the world a better place today because you were in it? I'm all for setting goals and having dreams and plans.  But we can't get so wrapped up in the future that we forget to live today, right here, right now.

7.  I'm married to my teammate and my best friend.  We work well together.  God certainly knew what He was doing when he brought us together.  If you don't feel that way about your mate, work on that.  Charles Stanley says, "If you're married, you're married to the right person."  Is it all sunshine and roses here on the farm?  Nope.  But as Hubby says, "There's no one I'd rather argue with than you!"

Well, there you have it.  Seven reasons why strangers shouldn't feel bad about themselves.

Homemade Quesadillas

I'm on a tortilla kick lately, I promise that's not all we're eating these days!

When Hubby and I got married, we received a quesadilla maker.  It was nice and worked fine.  But it only made one quesadilla at a time.  And as much as we love each other, it isn't SO romantic to sit at the table together and nibble a shared quesadilla as you wait for another one to be done.  Now add in three kiddos and I'd be making quesadillas for hours. 

And in the big cleaning out that is happening around here (at least with my stuff), the quesadilla maker was donated to the thrift store.

Does that mean we are now sentenced to a quesadilla-less existence??  It certainly does not.

Necessity being the mother of invention (and I'll add innovation), we now have BETTER quesadillas!!

In this particular batch, I opened a pint of canned turkey, shredded pepper jack and chipotle chedder cheese, picked some green onions and used butter.  (I know you're shocked about the butter.)

{As an aside, I recently gave a seminar on canning and someone asked, "How do you have time to can?"  I replied, "I don't have time NOT to can!"  Because I had canned turkey in my pantry, I got this hot meal on the table in less than 10 minutes.}

Put some butter in the bottom of your cast iron skillet, drain water/broth from turkey and add.  We want to heat the turkey thoroughly and if we get some nice crispy bits, that would be just fine!

 While the turkey is heating, grab some soft butter.  Go ahead, grab it!  And then spread it on one side of a tortilla.  This is wonderfully relaxing way to cook.

Flip that tortilla over and add a layer of cheese.

Then the turkey and green onions.

And then a final layer of cheese.  Why the cheese at the beginning and the end?  Because the melting cheese acts as a "glue" that hold the non-melting ingredients together and keeps your quesadilla from falling apart.

 You'll want to butter one side of another tortilla to place on top, using the same wonderfully relaxing technique.  Who says you can't have fun in the kitchen??

Slide the quesadilla onto a HOT griddle.  I can't stress that enough.  My griddle was at 400 degrees.  If the temperature is too low, the tortillas will get hard by the time the cheese is melted.  We want them crispy, not hard!

It only takes 3 or 4 minutes, so don't leave them.  When the bottom side looks like this, flip 'em!

I know I should have taken a finished shot, but we ate them just as fast as I made them.  All five of us thought they were great!  With some fruit, it made a great lunch.  With a salad or some rice, you're all set for supper.  

The filling possibilities are endless!  My niece and nephew would probably want peanut butter and jelly.  ICK!  I like peanut butter and I like jelly, but combining the two is a horrible thing to do to both peanut butter and jelly!

Go forth and make your own quesadillas!!

Veggie Patch Pizza

On Good Friday, our family tradition is to not eat meat.  But Friday is also our family tradition of homemade pizza and ice cream.  Enter veggie patch pizza!

I used grande burrito sized tortillas as my thin pizza crust.

Take some butter.  Only butter.

And smear it over one side of the tortilla.  Use both hands if you want!

Then flip it over so the buttered side is on the bottom.  Why do we do this?  It makes the bottom of the crust nice and crispy, instead of soggy.  

Meanwhile, I started sweating some veggies in my cast iron skillet:  zucchini, red pepper, onion and minced garlic in butter.  

 

 Take 2 Tbsp of homemade pizza sauce and swirl it around.  I don't like a lot of sauce so I use it sparingly.  Do whatever floats your boat.

Then I added some fresh spinach.  I didn't wilt this in the skillet as the heat from the oven will wilt it on the pizza.

Add your vegetables and prepare to add your cheese.

Doesn't it look great?  And we haven't even baked it yet!

This pizza is quick:  10 minutes at 425 degrees is all it takes to get awesome thin crust pizza at home.

Moving out!!

Today was the day!  The day we evicted the hens from their cozy winter hoop-coop and out to the pasture.

Here they are coming to receive the eviction notice.

Hubby and Kiddo1 wore their balaclavas...it was cold out there in the wind!

Moving hens really is a three person job.  Thankfully we had a third pair of hands that were not only willing but ABLE to help this year!

Kiddo1 would catch the hens with the net.

It's a pretty proud moment to know you're really helping Mom and Dad!

 My job was to trim the feathers on one wing.  Why do we do that?  By trimming just one wing the hen can't balance herself to fly and that keeps her within the fence and from becoming coyote food.

I tucked each hen under my left arm (I'm right handed) and spread the hen's right wing feathers.  We want to trim the last 10 feathers.  You don't have to count the feathers on each hen.  There is a natural break in the plummage after the tenth feather.  See that feather right above my thumb?  That marks the break.

I just used a kitchen shear, sharp and tough.  This doesn't hurt the chicken one bit!  Their feathers are like our fingernails:  made of protein and have no nerves.  But unlike our fingernails, these feathers won't regrow.  They'll fall out when the hens molt this fall/winter.

Kiddo3 watched the goings on from the doorway as Hubby took the trimmed hens and put them in the cages in the back of the pickup.

The hens are in electrified poultry netting to keep varmints out and chicken in.  They have a range shelter to sleep in at night with nest boxes on each side to lay their eggs.

When we got to the pasture, the hens scratched and pecked.  Kiddo1 exclaimed, "Mama, the chickens are so happy!"  Yes, they are!  Doing what chickens love to do.

 It doesn't look like much now, but that hill will green up in a few weeks and those hens will produce delicious and nutritious eggs from that forage.  It takes about 10 days for the dark orange color to return to their yolks.  So our egg customers should have them before May!

Easter: Last year and this year

I've said it before and I'll say it again, "What a difference a year makes!"  This time in regard to Easter.

Last year:  I dressed the kids in play clothes and winter coats and rubber boots.  We waited until dawn's early light and started walking the half mile across frozen soybean fields to our vehicles.  The kids were tired, couldn't walk fast, and with only two sets of arms, Kiddo1 had to be a trooper and walk in the grey light and the black mud.  When we got to the van, I took off the frontpack that held Kiddo3 and the backpack that contained our Easter clothes and we dressed in the cold van.

(You may be asking, "Why didn't you just take the boat around your flooded road?"  Well, the ice wasn't off the water and if the remaining ice would have shifted we'd be stranded.  Up a flooded road without a path.)

This year:  We DROVE (can you tell I love that part) our van from our house to THE FARM and spent the night in the bosom of my childhood.

It was a bittersweet trip.  As we were doing some last minute siding wrap-up Saturday morning, I found out that our beloved neighbor at THE FARM was killed in a car accident.  My heart broke.  My dad's longest friend, they literally grew up a mile from each other, went to school in the same class, farmed the land together on either side of the section line.  They would dig each other out in the winter and pull each other out in the spring.  A man of God.  He and his wife were the first to come to my mom when she got home last fall.  They all cried together.

I knew I had to go see his family and in our community, we don't go empty handed.  We bring food.  Comfort for the body as we comfort each other.  I baked buns, pulled fresh kuchen out of the freezer and we went home.

Hubby and the kids stayed at THE FARM and I went alone.  To a house I'd been in many times which now seemed almost empty even when it was full of people.  There was no big man with big hands, a big laugh and an even bigger heart.  We hugged, we cried.  Death is not easy.

My mom asked that I put some flowers on Dad's grave.  I left our neighbor's and went to the cemetery, a very fitting place to spend Easter Saturday.

As I stood next to the bare earth that marks his grave and wept, it struck me how this Easter is so much like the first Easter.  My father is gone, our neighbor is gone.  Our little community on Old #7 has lost its bedrock of 70 years.  What are we to do?  How are we to go on?

Is this a just a bit of what the disciples felt on their Easter Saturday?

Those men and women stood beside a tomb and wept, knowing that their bedrock was gone.  What were they to do?  How were they to go on?

But then Sunday came...for them and for me.

We went to my home church, the church I was raised in.  My family.  The first time I'd been there without my parents.  We were slightly late for the 7am service.  But our old family pew was still open.  Not the one my parents moved to ACROSS THE AISLE, but the one we'd always sat in as a family.  And as I sat there with my three kids (two girls and a boy) and thought of my parents sitting in this same pew with their two girls and a boy.  I miss them terribly.  I miss us together.  But I was wrapped in the arms of my church family.  Who hugged me and loved me and we missed my folks together.  We ate breakfast with my mom's best friend who dreamt about her the night before.  I sat next to my dear friend Anna and we traded mother-of-young-children stories as our husband's managed the chaos of kids and too many jelly beans.

Last year:  I fought the flood waters.

This year:  I didn't fight the flood of tears and emotions, but let myself be loved and held in arms of my church family and in the promise that death is not the end.  Because Jesus's tomb was empty on Sunday morning, I know my dad and neighbor stand together in heaven.  Death is not the end.  Praise God, death is not the end.

Singing and butchering chickens

My motto in life is "Try It!"  Even the experts had to start somewhere.  And I'll add Uncle Joel's advice, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing poorly first."

And with those pieces of advice tucked in my heart and brain, I've tackled lots of new things like canning, baking bread, raising turkeys, lots of home improvement projects.

Before Hubby and I got married, we wanted to replace the flooring in his house with hardwood floors.  I had never laid hardwood floors and neither had Hubby.  But I am the daughter of a master woodworker and know my way around power tools.  Hand-in-hand we strolled the aisles of the home improvement store and picked out our honey oak flooring and the nail gun and staples and other assorted items.  We brought home three rooms worth of flooring and were ready to get started.

Soon-to-be-Hubby looked at me and said, "Alright, what do we do first?"
I said, "Read the directions!"
He asked with a raised eyebrow, "What do you mean?  Haven't you done this before?"
"Nope!  But we'll figure it out!"
(I should note that this was Hubby's first real life example of my motto.  It was not his last...)
"WHAT??!!  We just bought over 300 square feet of hardwood flooring and you don't know how to install it??"
And I responded, "Well, my assumption is that they wouldn't sell it at Menard's if you couldn't do it yourself.  After all, they don't sell neurosurgery kits!"

We started in the closet (always a good place to start with a new project), and soon were laying flooring like pros.  There is nothing like a home improvement project to find out how a soon--to-be-married couple works together!!

And five years later, the flooring still looks great!

(I can hear you thinking, "Why is she talking about flooring when the title of the post is singing and butchering chickens?")  I'm getting there, I promise.

Last night, Hubby and I were driving home from THE FARM and the kiddos were sleeping so we turned on the radio to find some songs to sing along.  And we did!  Some we both knew and others we didn't.

I've always wanted to be a good singer.  My mom and my sister are excellent singers.  I, however, am not.  And enthusiasm does not cover up my lack of singing ability.  To illustrate this point, I was singing in the shower and my dad knocked on the bathroom door and asked what I was doing to the cat.  See??  And singing is not like hardwood flooring installation.  Singing is one of those things that I just can't get better at.  I am what I am.

It's not that I'm not musical.  I played a variety of musical instruments in high school.  I've played the piano for 30 years and am our church's pianist every Sunday.  I do LOVE music!  And I REALLY wish I could sing.

But I console myself with the fact that I'm sure there are wonderful singers out there who look longing at their husbands and say "Honey, I really wish I knew how to butcher chickens!"

A Sin of Omission

Do you ever take things for granted?  In my post yesterday, I neglected a VERY important book.

You know that get-to-know-you question "If you could invite three people to dinner, who would they be?", this author is on the top of my list.  He's one of my favorite people in all the land.

Did you know that I have a manuscript of this book in a special drawer in my living room?  I do.  It's the only thing in that drawer and my children are forbidden to touch it.

My brother wrote this book.  My brother the author.  Who is also my brother the pastor, Duke Divinity School graduate, college football player, State FFA Officer, Duke Men's basketball season ticket holder, woodworker, fun uncle, and fabulous brother.

My dad often said, "You two are too alike to get along all the time.  But you're too much alike to stay mad at each other for very long."  And he was correct!

My brother and I have had a LOT of fun times together.  We've roadtripped to the east coast twice, gone to sporting events and concerts, done home improvement projects, worked lambs and calves.  You name, we've probably done it together.

He's pretty important to me.

And when he said, "Hey, I wrote a book.  Will you read it and let me know what you think?"  Well, I was honored.

And here is my completely biased, but truthful review:
I love this book.  I read it straight through the first time.  The scene is North Dakota so you can easily picture the setting and the town of Revelation.  Emmett McCall is a wonderfully layered character that you want to know more about.  The other characters are very charming and endearing, you know someone like each of them.  It's a Western mystery, but there's plenty of dialog and side stories to provide a lot of personality to the storyline.

The best part of this book?  It contains a study guide in the back for small group reading and study.  Our small group Bible study read it together and the discussions we had were great.  But it doesn't read like a Bible study book.  The essays and questions dig deeper into the characters and story and relate them both to your own life.

Bottom line?  I'd love this book EVEN IF my brother didn't write it.
And I'm proud as punch that he did.