It’s Sunday morning, my favorite day of the week.  Normally, I would be out the door by now and on my way to church, but not today.  Poor Lyla has been hit with the flu again plus an upper respiratory and ear infection, so Jason took the boy while I care for baby girl. That aside, I am sitting here in my semi-dark living room with our pretty little tree twinkling in the corner from atop its baby-proof perch and I am pondering all that I am thankful for.

I know, I know – all the “thankful” posts have already been done before thanksgiving, but I just feel so immensely blessed and with cooking my first Thanksgiving, there just wasn’t time to compose something readable.

This year was my first time to host any kind of Thanksgiving meal in my home.  We have a very small one with a total lack of parking, so we kept it small – just us, my folks and our dear friend Evelyn and her Yorkshire Terrier, Monty.  My mom and I got to cook the whole meal together while Dad handled the turkey and Evelyn brought a few things.  And, it was prefect.  The food was delicious, everyone was smiling and laughing.  My little sanguine heart was so darned full I just wanted to burst.

Before our meal that afternoon – Jason, Jonah and I went up to our church to participate in Families Loving Families. We, along with a large group of volunteers, delivered meals to those less fortunate all over Bethany and in OKC.  We delivered meals to two families.  I’ll be honest, they were poor.  Really poor.  It wasn’t the first time I had been exposed to real poverty.  I had friends growing up and even some family who sometimes didn’t know where the next meal let alone the next paycheck would come from. I remembered that although I did not grow up in a Christian home, my parents taught my sisters and I that you don’t pity those in need, you help them – however you can.

It was awesome to see my son not recoil from these people he did not know on Thanksgiving morning; he didn’t notice the front door with a gaping hole covered with cardboard and masking tape or the smell of a home that had not been cleaned in a very, very long time . . . no, he smiled and said, “Happy Thanksgiving!”  It was awesome to see my husband earnestly pray for their needs and to encourage them.  It didn’t make me thankful that I wasn’t “them” . . . any of us could be “them” – alone, penniless, lost. Come to think of it, I’ve been one or the other at some point.

No, it made me thankful for my family, thankful for the amazing church that I belong to for serving this way, thankful for Jesus and His amazing grace, His matchless love that I can’t begin to understand but that I embrace wholly. Thankful that for me, He became lonely, penniless but never lost. For me He was rejected and died.  For me, He came back, just like He said He would.  For me, He offered forgiveness for my sorry state.  For me, He gave me a new life.  For you, He did all this.  For me and you and them and them and them.

I hope your Thanksgiving was a blessed one.  I hope your Christmas is wonderful too . . . filled with love, hope and of Christ.

Friday’s here, and I have too much going on in my busy brain to tack down one consistent line of thought leading to what else but random thoughts?!

*If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.  Such a great motto.  Especially as it pertains to getting small children to try new foods.  I made avocado puree for Lyla mixed with some squash, and I am happy to report that there was no gagging, spitting or scrunchy-faced anger.  Just smiles, lip smacking and gulping.  She is her mama’s girl.  I love me some guacamole!

*I think I saw 50 statuses about New Moon today.  I considered getting all crazy and going to the midnight showing, but I guess I don’t love Edward as much as I love the Pioneer Woman. She was worth a 4.5 hour wait, a movie – not even close. Guess I’m not a tried and true “Twi-heart.”

*Lyla turns 8 months old in four days. In the course of a week she began crawling forward, pulling up on everything and sprouted a tooth.  *sniff* My baby’s growing up . . . oh and she has also sprouted a spanking new attitude complete with tantrums and crocodile tears!  Awesome!  An older woman in the grocery store looked at me sympathetically as Lyla howled after I took my (chewed on) grocery list away from her.  Lord, thank you for making children cute.  I’m just sayin’.

*Since we’re on the subject of kids . . . Jonah has already begun to school his sister in the ways of mischief.  This afternoon was supposed to include a long, luxurious nap for the kids so I could relax too.  Instead, what I am listening to is the sound of Jonah singing to Lyla his made-up song about how “they” don’t like naps and how “they” can’t wait for daddy to get home so they can get up. And she’s giggling.  Yup, I’m in big, big trouble with these two!

*We’ll be visiting Ryan, America this weekend.  Home of the cowboys.  It’s my baby sister’s wedding shower.  Man, I loved my wedding shower.  If only I could go back and help myself register for things I really needed.  Jason registered for a beach ball and we got it.  Nice.  I quickly learned a lesson there: Never let your significant other run off with the registry gun in target.  Like Forrest Gump says, “You neva know whatcha gonna git.”

Okay time to go release the young ones from their beds and get ready for small group.  Have a fabulous weekend!  :)

Ah, it’s old outside.  Thank you, Lord. Really!  Maybe it’s a first child thing or a persnickety thing – but I really, really like for the seasons to change when they are “supposed” to.  I think that living in Tennessee made me a very spoiled girl in that respect. So when the cold, gloomy weather arrived Sunday night – you didn’t hear any complaining from me, just a “yippee! Fall is finally here!”

Now I get to really put away the unflattering summer clothing and pull out the forgiving sweaters.  Yes.  Can I get an amen?

Moving on . . . what a crazy couple of weeks it has been, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the holidays. Babies have a way of pushing all the turkey-basting, gift-wrapping, party-going craziness to the back of your mind and replacing it with attempting to baby-proof an entire house in a very short period of time without losing your mind. Oh, and joy – just the pure joy of seeing the delight in the eyes of a child who has had their first taste of freedom  . . .

Last Tuesday, Lyla crawled (forward, that is) she’d been doing the backwards boogie for a couple of weeks already.  Yesterday she pulled to standing on her own, this morning she cut her first tooth.  I don’t know who’s more tired, her or me?

My motto for today:  ”Life’s a mess – roll in it!” Borrowed that one from my parents’ cow-pie loving dogs.  I know.  Ewww.

This post idea was snagged from Amber and the Simple Woman’s Daybook.

Outside my window… dark.  It’s late. 

I am thinking… that I need to go to bed, really.  But being up and alone, listening to some classical music is so nice.  Not as nice as sleeping, but close.

I am thankful for… my kids and my husband.  I just love them to death.  I really do.  They bring such sweetness to my life.  While I’m thinking about it, I need to figure out what to put in the JOY stocking for them this Christmas . . .

I am wearing… black pants and a red t-shirt.  Simple is my middle name.  Okay, not really.  Ann is my middle name, but isn’t that about the most simple middle name you can have?  Rambling . . .

I am remembering… Tennessee.  I always want to be there in the fall. 

I am going… to Dallas this weekend to have a girls’ weekend with my mom and sisters.  This is a first!  It’s my mom’s 51st birthday.  We are planning on cooking her dinner and who knows what else?  I am praying for it to be a time of joy, healing and laughter.
I am reading… a biography of Julia Child.  I hated the book Julie & Julia (and loved the movie, go figure) and found myself intrigued with Julia’s life.  It’s pretty good so far.

I am hoping… to get serious about losing weight.  I have zero excuses and loads of apathy. 

On my mind… Thanksgiving.  It is going to be different this year.  We are participating in Families Loving Families and hoping to make that a tradition.  We’re also having my parents over for the first time to eat, just us and them. I am looking forward to cooking dinner with my mom!

From the learning rooms… I got Jonah’s first report card, and man have those changed!  Bottom line: we have a lot of work to do, but he is making good progress.  I see LOTS of phonics in our future and sight words.

Noticing that… I don’t miss the TV.

Pondering these words… “To Love another person is to see the Face of God.” Victor Hugo – Les Miserables.  I have heard this quote a million times since that is one of my favorite books.  Hugo had a really incredible understanding of God’s grace, and I believe he was most definitely talking about Agape love in this quote. 

From the kitchen… I am debating what to make for dinner tomorrow night.  Mondays are Financial Peace University, and Jason’s cousin, Summer, comes to eat and watches the kids while we go to class.  I like to make something extra yummy since she is technically allowing us to pay her with food.  I’m thinking chicken….something with cheese??
Around the house… I am wishing (and praying) for more energy and motivation to keep it up.  It seems like every time I get it looking and smelling halfway decent, I turn around for a moment and it’s dirty again.  My mother says that’s just the way it is when you have small kids.  I think she’s right.  I also think that when we are debt free I am going to budget in Merry Maids.

One of my favorite things~ is the wedding quilt my grandmother (Nanny) gave to Jason and I when we got married. It’s beautiful – navy blue, butter yellow and white.  There’s something lovely about homemade quilts. They seem warmer than other blankets.  I like to think that’s because they are made with love.

From my picture journal…
 

This one has an appetite for life!

I detest Daylight Savings Time.  It never used to be a big deal until I had kids. Before kids I would groan at Spring Forward and rejoice at Fall Back.  But then I had kids.

Kids have amazing little internal clocks.  Even if you aren’t super strict with a schedule in your household, most kids naturally fall into a pretty predictable schedule, and they like it. A lot. My children, for example, normally go to bed by 8pm and they wake up at 6:30 or 7am.  Yes, early risers – and they’re always very energetic too!  But when DST rolls around, UGH.  UGH!!!!!!! At 6:30pm is dark now, and they are tired! (hello, they’ve been up since the crack of dawn!)  I know they want to go to bed, but for the sake of our sanity, they have to wait another hour or we’ll get a 5am wake up call.  Not cool. So, long story short, It’s Saturday and I have been up since 6:30 because their little bodies think it’s 7:30am – which is sleeping in for us.   Oh, how I hate thee, DST!

The good news?  The dishes are done, laundry’s started and Lyla is on her first nap, so I get to goof off on the computer. But first I did a little reading in My Utmost for His Highest.  I got my first copy of the little book when I was in college.  It still amazes me how a preacher who actually died pretty young a long time ago has made such an impact on generations of believers. Over the years I have often read it along with my Bible study, and have found his insight into God’s word to be amazingly poignant.

This morning was no different.  For November 7th the key Bible passage is “We know that all things work together for good to those who love God . . . ” Romans 8:28

This passage is kind of a toughie.  Does that mean that if I believe in Jesus and love God that my life will be one big bowl of sunshine? Doubtful.  No let me rephrase that -  YEAH, RIGHT!  O.C. has a different take on it.  He says, “The circumstances of a saint’s life are ordained of God. In the life of a saint there is no such thing as chance . . . God brings you to places, among people, and into certain conditions to accomplish a definite purpose through the intercession of the Spirit in you.” In other words, we really aren’t meant to just (as Dave Ramsey calls it) “be-bop” along through life thinking everything that happens is just an amazing coincidence. 

O.C. continues, “All your circumstances are in the hand of God . . . you don’t ever have to think they are unnatural or unique. Your part in intercessory prayer is not to agonize over how to intercede, but to use the everyday circumstances and people God puts around you by His providence to bring them before His throne, and to allow the Spirit in you the opportunity to intercede for them. In this way God is going to touch the whole world with His saints.”  This is pretty amazing to me who used to be under this assumption that I needed to go searching for opportunities to serve God, when really – God’s got them in place right where I am.  I just have to open my eyes and pay attention! 

This must be why “praying without ceasing”  (1 Thessalonians 5:16) is so important.  That must be why abiding in Him (John 15:4) is so necessary!  If my greatest purpose is to know God and make Him known, I better look up and take notice of where GOd has me, who He’s surrounded me with and listen.  It’s tempting sometime as a (mostly) stay at home mom to think that I don’t he many opportunities to “get out there and serve God.”  That couldn’t be less true!  Not only am I holding the precious gift given to Jason and I of raising up our kids to know God and make Him known, I have countless opportunities with the people I see and talk to everyday to intercede, to just let God’s love overflow into their lives.

You really never do know how or when God will move in another person’s life. Sometimes He even speaks to people through silly, grammatical-error ridden blogs. 

Old Oswald ends with this thought, “Am I making the Holy Spirit’s work difficult by being vague and unsure, or by trying to do His work for Him?” OUCH. “I must do the human side of intercession— utilizing the circumstances in which I find myself and the people who surround me. I must keep my conscious life as a sacred place for the Holy Spirit. Then as I lift different ones to God through prayer, the Holy Spirit intercedes for them.”  Right on.

Last week I had a first – a real, live book signing with a real, live author.  Not just any author, but Ree Drummond, The Pioneer Woman – a total web sensation with her hilarious, honest blog complete with amazing recipes, breathtaking photography – yes, and even homeschooling and home/garden stuff.  Superwoman?  Quite possibly, in my opinion anyhow.

I almost didn’t go.  We had Fall Festival at learning center, and I was worn smooth out. What I really wanted to do was sleep, but I had already made some preliminary plans with my friend Amber, another Pioneer Woman fan.We’d have to be late due to a parent teacher conference and my extreme tiredness, but we simply couldn’t pass up this opportunity to do something fun that was also essentially free.

I met Amber at the parking lot of Borders; she had literally just purchased the last copy of The Pioneer Woman Cooks that they had in stock.  I admit, I was a little envious.  I promised Jason I would wait because that is the only thing  I asked for this Christmas.  Amber and I pulled into the Full Circle Bookstore parking lot and found a prime spot right up front.  Surely a good sign, right?  This could only mean that even though the signing started an hour ago that the line wouldn’t be long at all, right?  I mean, Ree is great, but a blogger, and who reads . . . blogs . . . right?   W-R-O-N-G.

So we saunter on into the book store thinking we have it made and look to our left to see none other than The Pioneer Woman herself in all her cute, midnight-blue blouse wearin’, beautiful auburn hair, goddess of the kitchen and creator of  giggles glory.  Amber, being the confident woman she is, attempts to strut right up to Ms. Drummond when I pull her back and shake my head frantically from side to side.  “No, oh nooooo….”I say.  “Look at the line!”  Amber and I sheepishly backed away from the mob (who looks friendly but could easily turn on us and beat us to death with their cookbooks) and almost tripped over some photographers and began to weave our way through the store looking for the end of the line.

We walked through the store.  We walked out of the store and into the mall.  We walked past the store, past several other stores, came to some stairs and finally, near another entrance and a restaurant, we found the end of the line. We then also discovered that some of our line mates had already been there an hour, and the line had not moved.  Oy Vey.

Still, this would not dampen our mood.  Then a woman who Amber and I agreed that we would refer to her as “awkward mousey woman” showed up. awkward mousey woman was not a patient line waiter, and she made that very clear.  She loudly proclaimed that waiting this long was “crazy” and that “she (The Pioneer Woman) is just taking her sweet time, talking to people” Gasp!  Talking to people?  Why I never . . . okay, sorry.  Anyway, AMW had a lot of these opinions, and truthfully, she was bringing us down.  A bona-fide wet blanket.  AMW then decided (on four separate occasions) that she would go “check things out” and would we hold her place in line?  Um, she was the last person in a line that moved like a sloth . . . no problem, lady.

After her fourth excursion to go “check things out” AMW gave up and hit the road. And noticeably, the mood lifted. Not long after that, AMW was replaced by a group of fun-loving gals – ALL in extremely cute outfits. As we waited, shuffled, chatted, waited, shuffled, snarfed candy, chatted . . . Pioneer Woman’s own husband, made famous by her wildly popular blog, Marlboro Man came down our way to sign autographs and take pictures.  What a nice guy – and handsome too.  Ree, wasn’t kidding.  That dude makes the ladies swoon.  So when I got to meet him I asked if all the newfound fame was wierd for a guy who’s wrangled cattle his whole life. He smiled and said, “For sure!” 

Around 8:45 the crowd started to get antsy.  Ree had a dinner scheduled at Rococo after the signing which was supposed to be over at 8:30pm.  I don’t think they were prepared for 800 people to show up!  There were rumors that she was leaving before 9pm and then rumors that she wasn’t.  Turns out, she stayed . . . and stayed, and stayed.

Before this gets any longer and you all lose interest (as if you hadn’t already) here is how it went:  Amber and I waited 4 and a half hours before we finally got our turn to meet The Pioneer Woman.  We considered bailing several times, but then, we’d waited this  long – how could we leave now?  Plus, we were having fun.  See, there’s this thing about women that helps when waiting in impossibly long lines – we love to talk.  And the later it got, I just talked more. Think I’m chatty now?  God forbid you get stuck with me at midnight; it just gets worse. Sorry, Amber. 

As 12:30am rolled around, we finally had our turn. Ree was impossibly pretty and kind. And real.  I am amazed that she stayed over 6 hours to sign cookbooks and chat with her fans.  I’d hasten to say that’s what class and gratitude looks like.  So, was it worth it?  You betcha!  Did I manage to say stupid thing(s) to Ree?  You betcha!  While I talk a lot at 12:30 in the am, I don’t make much sense.  Bummer.

Hi guys.  It’s me, the inconsistent blogger.

For once, it hasn’t been a lack of blog material, but too much!  Life rolls on in our household at what sometimes seems a maddening pace, and with no housework to do, kids in bed, Jason reading a novel and no articles to write – here I am!

It’s November.  Already! I am in such a different place now than I was last year.  A much, much better place to be quite honest. For one, I was still very, very queasy a majority of the time (thank you, Lyla), I was dealing with a lot of uncertainty in my own person and struggling in my relationship with God.  And, it was last middle and late October that two precious people in my life went on to heaven, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. 

So, last November as I nestled a sweet baby in my womb and tried to get excited about the holidays, my heart was just about as broken as it could be. Being away from Tennessee has been hard; it still is.  Not being there to say goodbye to two women whose lives had such an amazing impact on mine was beyond difficult.  I wrote about Ashley .  A couple of weeks later I got a call that another friend, Doris, had also lost her battle with cancer and had gone on to be with Jesus.  It wasn’t that I forgot to write about Doris, or didn’t have time or found it too painful . . . no, there was just so much to say about this incredible individual.

While there is still way too much to say, I have to share with you all about this angel that we had the priviledge to know during our stay in Tennessee.

We first met Steve and Doris Little, a funny for Steve since he was anything but Little (he is an  extremely tall guy!) and a very fitting name for petite Doris, one of the first Sundays that Jason and I visited Judson Baptist Church.  We had been in Nashville since May and had visited several churches, but none had quite been right yet.  Before we even visited the worship service, we decided to give Sunday School a try. Long story short, we knew after that first hour with the Littles and the couples there who would soon become some of our dearest friends that we would join Judson.  And we did.

Steve had a knack for teaching (well, he called it facilitating) and getting us to talk, about real stuff, about hard questions.  Doris definitely had the heart of a teacher and was absolutely in-love with God’s word. Together they were passionate about helping us understand how precious the marriage covenant was and how to be the husbands/wives/parents that God desired for us to be.  They opened their own lives up to us and shared honestly about their failures and triumphs.

It wasn’t long after we began attending Judson that we were invited to the annual Christmas party.  I had to work but encouraged Jason to go. He was anything but excited to go hang out with people he didn’t know very well, but the other alternative was sitting at home alone on a cold night.  After I got home that night, he had this look of shock on his face.  He told me how he sat down by Doris at her dining room table, and as they chatted she suddenly asked, “Jason, would you tell me about your father?”  I won’t divulge the details of Jason’s difficult relationship with his dad over the years, but I have to tell ya – it wasn’t anyone but Jesus telling her to ask him that.  And Jason knew it. 

Doris knew how to get to the heart of a thing, to hit the nail on the head, to see through a situation to its core.  She never minced words, but she spoke the truth in love.  I had many lunch dates with her and sometimes with her and Steve.  She was a friend to me when I didn’t have many . . . or any! She made an effort to show me what a Godly wife looked like, how a Godly mother loved, what a Godly woman, a real live proverbs 31 woman was.  She was it. I know she’d roll her eyes if she read that, but it’s the truth!

Doris loved to laugh, she was creative, giving and probably the best hostess I have ever known. She loved her family fiercely, and was gifted at helping them create beautiful, meaningful memories. In particular, Doris was known at Christmas for doing a Happy Birthday Jesus cake with her kids and grandkids and a JOY stocking, where she would give gifts to her loved ones and tell them how they each brought her joy that year.

Goodness, there is still so much to say, too much for this forum. So I’ll end with this -  Doris, I miss you. There are so many times I wish I could sit down with you and ask how you would handle this or that, but I know what you would say.  You’d tell me to turn to God’s word, to study it precept by precept, to hide it in my heart.  You’d tell me to listen intently and the go do it!  I miss you. I miss having coffee at your house overlooking the lake through your kitchen, that white brick walled Sunday School room at Judson. I miss you, but I know where you are.  Sitting at the feet of Jesus, getting to sit with the WORD, live and in person. 

P.S.  I’ve still got the JOY stocking you gave me, and it’s overflowing. 

When I last blogged, I belive I was ill . . . Jason too, oh yeah, and Lyla.  A month later, we have finally (almost) emerged from under the cloud of yuckiness that has hung over our home.  Not a week after the weekend yuckies, Lyla developed a week-long unexplained fever and then she and Jonah reached the pinnacle of sickness with the full-blown seasonal flu.

Did I mention that I might scream if I have to purchase another box of tissues, can of Lysol or fever-reducing medicine any time soon? A HSA looks really appealing, and logical, right now.  So, that’s where I’ve been.  In case you were wondering.

Despite the sickness, life moves on, and boy does it ever!  Here’s a run-down of the going-ons here at the Z house.

*If you read Jason’s blog or FB page you might notice that he appears to be selling everything we own.  And if that’s the impression you got; you’d be right.  We’re in week 5 of Financial Peace University and hitting our stride. This is our second time to go through FPU, and while it’s not like we didn’t get it the first time . . . we really get it this time.  They say that time is a healer of all things, and I say that it also helps with perspective too.  Right now we’re selling and socking away every last dime to reach our emergency fund, and then we get serious. Seriously. More to come on that front!

 As you can see, here, baby girl is 7 months old.  Oh, and she is wearing cloth diapers.  Sidenote:  Never say you won’t do something, because you just might have to eat your words .  . . or wash them, dry them and pad your baby’s bum with them.  ha!  See, this whole living below our means thing seems to be flooding into every area of our lives.  Get it? Flooding?! I know, sad.  Anyway, some very cool friends gave these to us.  What a blessing!  And after two weeks, I have a confession to make.  I like them. A lot.  They are not what I presumed they would be – a lot of work (as if I don’t have enough to do!).  In fact, they really are just a teeny bit more work that the disposable and cheaper, AND YES, better for the environment. My funny best friend, J, who I lovingly refer to as the “cloth diaper queen” asked if I was going to be hugging trees or wearing Birkenstocks soon? Ha ha.  I deserved that. Lesson learned, don’t judge a diaper by its cover.  And by the way, the covers are very cute!

*It’s Fall!  Glorious Fall!  And yes, I realize that technically I don’t need to capitalize Fall since it’s a season, but it’s my favorite.  So there. The trees are actually turning colors this year, thanks to the extra rain.  That’s part of why places like Tennessee (home to some of the most awesome Fall foliage!) have such beautiful Falls, the rain.  I always remember Fall being a very rainy time of year in Nashville.  Jonah has been especially excited to see the reds, oranges and yellows. It’s just so nice that we actually get a nice transition into winter rather than the usual Hot/Cold mess we’re used to.

*Since the sickness, I have been cooking a lot more lately.  Oh yeah, and we’re not eating out, at all. Unless some sympathetic soul wants to give mommy a break and throw us a bone, as in a gift card to somewhere, anywhere.  I’ve cooked all manner of goodies so far this month including chicken spaghetti, roast beef, pork chops and rice, spinach and cheese stuffed chicken and Samye’s delicious fish recipe that she gave to me this summer (which I believe was Weight Watchers?!) Since the cold weather is seeping in, I am in full soup mode.  Oh baby. Nothin’ better than soup.  It’s easy, it’s warm, it’s versatile!  Seriously, we’re having chili, homemade chicken noodle and beans & cornbread just this week.  My latest favorite cookbook is one I have been pleasantly surprised by, Trisha Yearwood’s Georgia Cooking in an Oklahoma Kitchen.  It’s so homey, so yummy. But I have my eye on another . . . also an Okie – The Pioneer Woman!

My friend, Carla, encouraged me to Ree Drummond’s site this summer, and I have been hooked ever since.  She’s funny, she’s real, she cooks (oh, she COOKS!), she takes amazing photos . . . she has a lot going on in a very non-intimidating, you want to be neighbors with her kind of way.  So she has a cookbook coming out next week The Pioneer Woman Cooks. And I want it.  I really, really do.  If I get one present this year, I want that. I hope Jason reads this.    And to top it off, she’s going to be in OKC next week for her book tour.  And I’m going!  My husband said one time that while I rarely get starstruck, that when I do it is with people who rarely find themselves in that position.  Not sure what that says about me, but I think Ree is cool.

Okay, it’s officially midnight, and I am officially tired.  And in case I haven’t said this in a long while, for those who take the time to read this thing, thank you!  Thank you very much.  Night!

So a week ago I purchased this monster a butternut squash, weighing in at 5 lbs. It’s a favorite of babies, usually a first food as it has little chance of any allergic reaction. I got some Gerber first for Lyla to try because preparing this bad boy was a 2 hour job. She loved it, so on my last grocery trip, I purchased this – and got an odd look at the register. Guess they don’t sell a lot of them?

Today, I pulled out my squash, which I lovingly referred to as the Veggie Tales character, Little Jimmy who was also a butternut squash. I got a big ole knife and hacked him in two.

Next, I scooped out all of Jimmy’s guts (poor guy) and put the oven on 350˚, put the halves face down on a cookie sheet and let him bake for 50 minutes.

Oh yeah, and Jonah did dishes (for real!!!) When Jimmy was finally done, I let it cool a bit and then started scooping out the flesh (ew, that sounds awful) into a bowl.

 I then added a little water and began making puree in the magic bullet and then put into ice cube trays.

The result? Two quart freezer bags of butternut squash cubes and three baby food containers of it for this week. I’m feeling all domestic divaish . . . watch out ya’ll! I have made some other baby food, and this has been the most time consuming by far (approximately 2 hours plus cleanup). And at .68 a lb, it cost me about $3.40 for 20 servings!

Long time, no blog . . . due to no time to blog. But here I am, a little refreshed after barreling through a pretty rough period in our lives. I promise to do better from now on.

So today as I was playing with Baby Girl, I suddenly remembered the dollhouse I wanted to badly when I was little, and almost got. I dreamed of having the grand Victorian dollhouse with pretty little shutters, a winding staircase and all the teeny-tiny, perfect furniture my house could hold. I honestly don’t think I even wanted to “play” with it. I could have cared less about the dolls. I just wanted to arrange and re-arrange the furniture. I begged for this dollhouse. Pled my case to the Great Claus. Every time we went to the hardware store where they had the kits I would sigh and look doe-eyed up at my dad and say something dramatic like, “Oh Daddy, isn’t that a pretty dollhouse?” Yes. I was that kid.

So one Christmas, I think I was nine or ten, my time finally arrived. I got the dollhouse! Only, it wasn’t quite how I had imagined. See, I figured my dad would have it all built already, pristine and perfect on Christmas morning, just waiting for me to fill it with a Barbie’s truckload of furnishings. Instead, it was a rather large, square box with the picture of the pristine, perfect dollhouse on the front – assembly not included. Darn. Darn!

I still don’t know why my dad didn’t put the goofy thing together for me, but I can guess that he knew full well the extent of the snoopiness of my sisters and I. We went to great lengths to known what those wrapped treasures beheld, even Heather and I holding little Savanah’s torso and legs while she searched for gifts in the closet under the stairs with a flashlight. Shame! He knew I’d find the thing before Christmas morning. It was the only way. Sheesh. Even then, I was my own worst enemy!

Despite the box, I was thrilled to finally have my prize! I would be the envy of all my friends. I would sit daintily in my room and play for hours on end like something out of one of my storybooks. . . . The reality was that I would have to put the stinking thing together first. Obviously, I immediately took to nagging my dad about it. He is a carpenter, after all! But dad said, “Wait. It’s Christmas. We’ll start on it later.” Sigh. OH-KAY Dad.

Well I waited a whole two days and despite my nagging, we still had not begun the dollhouse project. My dad had to go back to work, and we were still on Christmas break. One afternoon I decided enough was enough. If my dad was going to be so slow and helping, I would just do it myself. After all, we had a garage full of tools, wood glue and I had an above-average reading level. How hard could it be? This is where having any knowledge of the Bible would have come in handy:

Luke 14:28 “For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? 29 Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, 30 saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.” (ESV)

So I gathered the materials and tools I could find and got to work. Sort of. After reading the directions, it was obvious that without help, it was going to take a really, really long time. I was a ten year old girl with little patience. Really, really long time was not in my vocabulary. I think I was hoping I could pull a Mary Poppins and magically snap the house into being. I cast the directions aside and just sort of started pasting and/or hammering things together. After many hours it was obvious that not only did I NOT have a beautiful, Victorian dollhouse, I had totally ruined any hopes of my materials becoming a beautiful, Victorian dollhouse. What I had – was a pile of sticks. Gluey, broken sticks. And I had splinters.

Of course, my dad discovered what I had done (my mother said, “I told you so.”) and he wasn’t even that angry. I was good at punishing myself. I cried and cried. I moped. I took the sad remains to the trash and moved on. Did he ever buy me another dollhouse? Nope. Did I ever ask for one again? I am not that brave.

So, this story got me to thinking about my relationship with my Heavenly Father. How often have I impatiently marched out on my own, to do my own thing, casting the “instructions” aside only to be left with tears and splinters? Ugh. Too many times.

John 5:19 “Jesus replied, ‘I assure you, the Son can do nothing by himself. He does only what he sees the Father doing. Whatever the Father does, the Son also does.’”