Spoiler alert: The galette is actually in the over right now as I am typing this and OH does it ever smell applicious! Concentrate! Focus!
written by Heather Zubiate Today ended up being cloudy, and it's a Saturday. Well you know what that means right? It's a baking day - oh yah baby! But what to bake? The choices are endless...the sky's the limit...you get the picture. But there is a limiting factor to what I can bake, since I'm not the only one who will be consuming the fresh baked good - - rats! So I need to bake something everyone in the Zubiate clan will enjoy. And that means apple pie! Mmmm, on second thought, today I'll be making a galette. It's the same thing really, except it's more rustic. That means it's easier and I'm all for easier. No, really I am. Besides, I have an abundance of apples in the fridge and some in a bowl from our little Dorset trees. Spoiler alert: The galette is actually in the over right now as I am typing this and OH does it ever smell applicious! Concentrate! Focus! First, I make the pastry so it can chill in the fridge while I whip out the filling. The pastry is simple enough, it's mostly butter with a little lard. Yes. I said LARD. I don't want to hear it, ya know why? Because it has been recently found out that saturated fats, like lard and butter, are not as bad for our heart health as once believed. The evil culprit to all kinds of cardiac issues is inflammation, which is brought on by highly processed foods, refined sugar, and even sodium. On a side note, I wonder what happens to the chloride, ya know? Table salt is sodium chloride, right? So what does the body do with the chloride part? Anyway, this is proof positive that Mary Cooper was right when she told the TBBT gang that doctors don't know what is good or bad for you. My opinion is that if God made it to be eaten, then it's good for you. God didn't make highly processed or hydrogenated anything, mankind does that stuff. So now I don't feel one bit of guilt making and consuming a good butter/lard pastry! Thanks Dr. Lundell (and others) for having the guts to come clean. I can just hear my mother say, "I knew it!" The filling is straight forward and easy to do, heck you can get you kids to help. Butter knives are sharp enough to cut apples into slices (adult supervision required) and it's a good way for your children to start honing their knife skills. Ha ha! Then I get out the pastry from the fridge and start rolling it out. I keep the center of the dough a bit thicker than the edges, which will be pleat folded up onto the apples. The thicker center of the crust allows for structural integrity when it comes time to serve, and the folded edges will not be so thick. I put the pasty into a pie pan rather than onto parchment and a cookie sheet. It's just my preference. I also put the pie plate onto a dark cookie sheet to catch any potential spillage, and to help brown the bottom crust. I then mix together the spices, sugars, and cornstarch in a small bowl and dump them over the apples, give it a couple of folding turns and then dump the sugary apples into the waiting blanket of pastry. After I evenly distribute the mound, I start gently folding up the dough. Once that is done, then I brush on some more cholesterol and saturated fat in the form of heavy whipping cream. If you want to use milk or an egg wash, be my guest. You can sprinkle sugar onto the edge, but this time I omitted that step - - trying to limit circulatory system inflammation, and every little bit helps! Then I place it into a preheated 400 degree oven on the center rack position for 3o minutes...then I check it. If it's getting too brown I lower the oven temp to 375. If all is well I leave the temp alone and check it 15 min. later and make adjustments. Most of the time, the 400 degrees is fine for the whole hour of baking. And then when the timer finally sounds, this is what you get! Isn't it lovely hmmmm? Smells fantastic too. It will be VERY hard to wait until after dinner to dig into it too. I serve it with some more cholesterol in the form of vanilla ice cream or real whipped cream, since the fake stuff causes... you guessed it-- INFLAMMATION! And we don't want that do we? Here's to your health!
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Written by Heather Zubiate Father's Day is coming up dear reader. As many of you know, it is VERY hard to find dad the perfect gift under $100. How many ties, or soaps on a rope can one man receive as a father? A few days ago, my sister said that mom's are more sentimental and easier to please than men are. She reasoned that a mom would be thrilled to get a bunch of flowers, it doesn't have to be her favorite flower. Would it do to give a man just any piece of sporting equipment? Not likely. Not that many guys like ALL sports but only a select few. Let's face it, men like things that have big price tags. Cars, boats, good tickets to sporting events, tools, T.V.'s or the latest electronic gadget. But is that really true? I like to think that the classic Cosby Show Father's Day episode goes a long way in dispelling the assumption, that expensive gifts are better than ones from the heart. And so, on that note, here is what I came up with for my eldest son to give his dad. Do you see this pile of lumber? It was fashioned into an early Father's Day gift for my husband, by me and our son, Timothy. Yes I know, it's more construction, which I HATE! But love can make us do crazy things, right? Anyway, can you guess what we are going to build? No huh? Feast your eyes upon my awesome plans. As you can see from this detailed drawing, I have one year of drafting classes and several years of art instruction under my tool belt. Still can't tell what it is huh? Okay then I'll tell you. It's a gardening bench! Since my man loves to garden, I thought it would be nice to make him something that contributes to his favorite hobby. Well, that and to have a place to put all of his gardening stuff. Stuff that is usually laying around the patio, garage, and yard in a disorganized fashion, which simply drives me crazy! (Deep breath) Whew...I'm okay now. Where was I? Oh yeah, the garden-ing bench. As for location, I decided the best place for his gardening bench was under the shelter of our back patio. It's outside (not in our cluttered garage) but also out of the sun. This project was kicked off by laying a brick foundation in the basket weave pattern, because as you can see, we have a dirt patch between our back patio and the house. "Why?" is beyond me. Did the builders, or previous owners conceive this to be a good place for a planting bed? Well, it's not. Since it's a covered patio, that means hardly anything grows here. It's just an annoying patch of dirt. After we finished the brick foundation, it looked so good that I've since decided to con-tinue my paving efforts, that way we will gain more usable porch floor area. But that's a project and post for another day. Tim and I only had to cut a few bricks to fit, which was a blessing because the brick set we have doesn't do it's job very well. I think only one brick actually was trimmed successfully without breaking in half. Not wanting to waste any bricks, I simply put the broken bricks toward the back, near the house. We then filled in the cracks with paver locking sand. Now the bricks look like they've been there for years! This little pocket drill jig sure has come in handy for our construction projects lately. In a mere 7 hours (fraught with all kinds of frustration), this random pile of lumber turned into this.... Not bad if I do say so myself. The slats cut into the removable top (thanks to my son's patience) hide a soil bin underneath. That way my man can slop potting soil directly onto the bench and have it go into the bin underneath, or he can remove the top completely and scoop soil from it. Men like gadgets that come with options, right? Now all of his gardening pots, tools, seeds and soil are kept neatly in one place. No more tripping over bags of soil, mulch, or stray pots! No more garden tool scavenger hunts, well that's if we learn to put them back where they belong - right here! I would've included more construction pictures, but I was busy constructing - - sorry. I would've posted a picture of my husband's reaction too, but he's camera shy. So, you'll just have to believe me when I say that he loved it! Even though the materials for this project added up to a tidy sum, what matters most is that my son and I made it with our own two hands, and it was from the heart. And it will keep on giving for many years to come with all the screws we put into the thing!
Happy Father's Day my love, you're simply the best! Written by Heather Zubiate After 12 or so years, we finally decided we needed a new sofa! Our old sofa (when it was new) was upholstered with a nice soft and durable dark green chenille. But as with all things in this world that are subjected to the relentless rigors of entropy, it was starting to show it's age big time! The four back pillows, once plump, resembled shriveled raisins. The chenille was worn and rubbed off in the most used spots like the arms and cushions. And the inevitable fabric tears were really making it look shabby and not so chic. While teething, Kyle gnawed on the back of the sofa, so I covered the area with a blanket we were given. I wish I had thought of putting the blanket there before Kyle nearly gnawed the fabric down to the wood! Anyway, when we got cats, they decided Old Green would make a great scratching post and secret lair! They clawed off the fabric underneath it, and some of the stuffing as well. And as the boys got older, they naturally used Old Green's ample arms for extra seating. And Tim used it as a second bed. Yes, Old Green served our family well, but it was finally time to throw out the old, and bring in the new! Ta-da!!!! And here she is! Adelaide! Isn't she just beautiful? After months of searching the inter-net and visiting many furniture showrooms, I found this beauty at Living Spaces. What's not to love? She has a sleek straight and pillowless tufted back with thin gracefully cur-ved arms. And even better, she has one long seamless cushion! Let's not forget her eye catching color - RED! Kyle insisted on getting a red sofa. Please understand that Kyle is not a shrinking violet when it comes to color. He wanted to paint his room in a dark Kelly green. Robert and I opted for a softer sage green, and it looks great. Then Kyle demanded that we paint his closet doors purple and his room's door orange. As an artist, I can see that he understands the concept of grouping the secondary colors (green, orange, and purple) together from the color wheel, but that doesn't mean they should all be in the same room. At the same time. At least not in the way he wants. Anyway, I agreed with Kyle about the sofa color, it had to be RED! Sorry for the super bright background of our large window, considering it is north facing, we still get a LOT of light from it! This shot is still bright even though our cream color curtains are drawn over the window. No one is allowed to eat on this sofa, and so far, that rule has stuck. Originally, I had set out to find a sofa that was not as long, so my son Timothy didn't use it as a second bed, but as it turns out, Adelaide's seating capacity is much longer than Old Green! So I inadvertently made Timothy VERY happy too.
See what a good mom I am? Anyway, while at Living Spaces, at the last minute, we splurged and got my husband his much coveted recliner. He really enjoys falling asleep in it after spending a long day on his feet, under the relentless So.Cal sun. Really, anyone who sits in it enjoys its soft cushiony comfort. Truth be told, I don't care for the sloppy pillowy recliner look, but this one isn't too sloppy, or pillowy. It's definitely a earthy brown, which suits my husband's preferred drab color palate, and fortunately, our decor. We simply couldn't afford any of the beautifully tailored recliners from La-z-boy, so we cooperated and got this one. It makes him happy, which makes me happy. Anyway, I hope to keep Adelaide looking her best for as long as I can, and I am so happy we got her. She really is quite a stunner, and quite comfy now that she's been broken in a bit. Thanks Tim! Written by Heather Zubiate There is something so whimsical and inviting about a rose covered arbor, isn't' there? The geometrically shaped floral abundance beacons one to walk through its fragrant portal, which gives the captivated viewer a framed glimpse of what is awaiting them on the other side. A rose covered arbor, I feel, is an essential feature to any quintessential cottage garden, and this is exactly what I have in mind for our front entrance from the street. Well, instead of a fountain as seen in this picture, you will see our front door with its recently constructed red screen door! For this project, I did make a plan, one that included both wood and rebar. As much as I hate to follow trends instead of setting them, I like the rebar look. It would have cost $90 to $120 to make, but to save me money, my son jumped in and reworked my plans. Rather than the elaborate wood and metal design I had in mind, he went for an easier all wood design, which sported a flat top. Dear reader, if you know me, I'm not convention-al, and when it comes to construction, if it's not difficult or emotionally painful to produce, then why bother? Some of you will understand what I mean. I guess in some ways I am a tortured artist. And so, I simply had to amend my son's simple design to include a difficult to construct pointed arch! Our design, which Timothy is working on here, called for cheap 2 x 2 x 8 pine, which we coated in that wretched copper stuff that stops it from rotting and keeps it off the ter-mite's menu. We made simple ladders, the pre-buried sides measured 7ft. tall and 2ft. wide. The overall width of the arbor would be around 6ft. and its finished height would be around 8ft. - - eh, approximately. I'say that because our intended finish measure-ments didn't exactly happen, because we are not the best carpenters. Now I realize that's pretty big for an arbor made from such small dimensional lumber. In hindsight, what looked okay on paper, looks quite different and some what squatty in real life. We should have used 4 x 4 x 8 posts, which would have been more in scale, and possibly safer. I guess we will find out if that was a major design flaw once the grape vine and climbing rose I'm going to plant on either side will prove to be too strong for the arbor's demure frame. Then it will be back to the drawing board! Anyway, to help the wood posts (I use that term lightly here) hold more securely into the concrete footings, we attached metal screws at the bottom as a kind of DIY rebar. Unfortunately, while we were hand digging the small footing holes, I came across the gas line about 1ft. down. That is where we stopped, we were going to dig 2ft. down, but I didn't want to pour concrete around the copper gas line. Because we didn't go down as deep as we had originally planned, we needed to remove some screws and place them lower on the posts. No big deal. We set the posts into their holes and got to the painstaking business of making sure they were plumb, level, and even in height! This essential task WAS NOT EASY at all!!! Why? Because the site I chose for the arbor to rest is sloped in two directions. Sorry Timothy. Many colorful metaphors later, we got things as close to perfect as we could before adding the concrete. Here, Timothy is carefully scooping in the dry concrete he mixed special for the occasion. Dry? Yes, dry mix went into the holes, not wet. Why? Because we felt it would be easier to make any adjustments if the mix was dry, it's NO fun to make critical and time con-suming adjustments when you are racing against the drying time of fast setting concrete! Once we got the sides to be level, plumb, and even, then we added water to the well com-pacted concrete mix and let nature take its course. Here they are - - mostly level, plumb and even! While that was setting up, Timothy and I started the painstaking task of constructing the pointed arch! This was going to be the most difficult,and the most important part of the whole project. As you can imagine, angles are geometrical, and Geometry is MATH!!! Ahhhhhhh!!! I HATE MATH almost as much as I hate construction! Isn't it awful? Just look at all those numbers formed into some sort of wordless sent-ences....oh the horror! Not to worry, my boy had this part covered. With the help of his trusty super expensive higher-math calculator, those pesky angles were figured out in no time. Knowing the angles is essential when it comes time to stand in front of the dreaded compound miter saw. But first, we wisely did a few sample cuts to make sure the angles worked only to find the angles my son carefully calculated didn't work. Oh the agony! This was not my son's fault, he did everything right, formula wise. Inexperience in three dimensional construction (as opposed to flat paper drawings) caused the error in his ciphering. The 2 x 3 ridge beam was not accounted for. After some hands on finagling, heated discussion and debate, the problem was solved. Well... sort of. Our angles were and still are not quite right. Personally, I blame the saw, it MUST be out of square! Next, we rigged a way to assemble the arch on the work table so we could move it to the waiting arbor sides without it wracking. I wish I had taken a picture of it, but I was in the moment and forgot all about taking pictures. Basically, we attached two 2 x 4 x 8's to the end pieces to keep them in place (at exactly 74" apart) while we erected the rest of the arch. This may be hard for you to believe dear reader, but I don't verbally articulate the ideas in my head very well, so I need to use a lot of visual aide when constructing projects with my guys. My son is also at that age when he knows he knows more than I do, you know? He forgets that he is still learning that I actually know things -- a lot of things, and that there is a method to my madness. Somethings take time to do, and if you want to do them right, then the time must be taken! We had to make the supports for the arch, and that took time. Once he saw what I had in mind, he understood. Whew! And as with most of our projects, we needed to call in the big guns, my husband, to help us finish the %$&*#@ arch! Thankfully my husband brings with him a certain familiar comedic relief when things aren't going right, and they weren't. He also knows a thing or two about building stuff, and our son listens to him a little bit better than to me. A little bit. Once we carried the arch to the front and secured it to the sides with four angle brackets, we were able to remove the supporting 2x4's. I put some decorative wood at the top to help stability too, as we designers know, form follows function. Voile la! Our big little garden arbor is done! We still have all of our fingers, and we didn't even make the usual three trips to Home Depot! Well....okay, Timothy is going to get four more angle brackets when he gets off work, but that doesn't count since he is already there! Okay...so I might be adding some more decorative wood pieces to it as well, which will involve at least one more trip to the orange box store. My son told me to just leave it alone when I told him my plans, but that is crazy talk! We tortured artists NEVER really know when to stop! Do we? All that we need to do now is plant the grape vines on the left, and some day, I will plant a Cecile Brunner climbing rose on the right. I will keep you posted of the arbor's progress. What embellishments will I add? Will I find the elusive and much desired Madame Alfred Carriere rose, or will I have to settle for the ubiquitous, all be it suitable, Cecile Brunner rose? Stay tuned to find out! The Whittier Housewife reminding you that.... Until the next exciting construction episode, adieu!
Written by Heather Zubiate Yes, the screening was a sagging and its spline was completely blown out; Its inner framing destroyed many times over by many balls thrown, no doubt! And so gathering all of the items it would take, for my eldest son and I to better make, a new screen door as fast as we could, one fashioned with aluminum screen and a frame of wood. First cutting, gluing and then clamping the pieces tightly, two smaller boards into one large enough that would rightly, be able to withstand many years of daily kicking and slamming, all without sagging, warping, bending or jamming. With cordless drill in my southpaws' hand, the remaining boards together we sought to band, using a clever pocket hole jig we had found, one by one each board was now easily bound. Making a frame so sturdy and strong, at 36 inches wide and its height 80 inches long. After a good sanding twas ready now to prime and paint, the bold color I chose to some might think lacks restraint. Once primed, painted, and completely dried, the metal screening was then somewhat carefully applied. After much toil and mutterings the deed was finally done, despite a few minor tears having happened, oh what fun! In crazed frustration I then did let out the cry, "To the opening my dear son, this door we now must try!" What's this my boy, no it simply cannot be, after all our good work measuring oh what misery! My heart sank as the reality completely home did hit, the stupid door, if you can believe it simply did not fit! In utter dismay I realized the width needed a wee bit of reduction, Looking heavenward I cried, "Oh Lord I SO HATE CONSTRUCTION!" It was then that my dear mate he did come and see, What in the world was the matter with me. In his most calm and steady loving tone, he said that for now we should leave it alone. "Dear wife you two have worked so hard, oh please do not sorrow, sleep on it tonight and solve the screen door woe tomorrow." He was right of course, yes we two were indeed quite weary, his gentle words soothed us and made our problem not so dreary. After a good night's rest came the glorious light of dawn, bringing with it the solution I had sought to now act upon. With hammer and chisel early Sunday morning I did slam, removing wood not from the door, but rather the jamb! Yes the solution was to remove wood for the hinges to fit, Four small mortises my son and I chiseled out bit by bit. At last all the wood was gone and now the door could be hung, After the very last screw was set, from my hand the red door swung. With trepidation we watched the door close then my jaw went aghast, Just kidding dear reader, the red screen door finally fit yahoo!...AT LAST! Joyously I exclaimed "Look boy It FITS in the opening so perfect and true, never in a million years could I have done this, not without you!" The Whittier Housewife signing off and reminding you that...
It was a rainy day when I sat down to write this entry, (Thursday, January 29, 2015) and at the time, it was reflective of my mood. The skies were modeled with grey and white clouds that were slowly leaking heaven's tears, it was a sad day for me. On that wet and dreary day I lost my little Cream Legbar pullet, Lily. I found her around 10 A.M. under the waterer, her little eyes were closed and she appeared to be napping, and I could see her side feathers rise and fall. As I watched her, I noticed that the other birds that were scurrying around her but they didn't rouse her --that was worrisome. Then I remember how she was not all that quick to leave the coop earlier that morning. Uh oh. My heart sank when I walked in and picked her up, she was not responsive at all, panic immediately set in. I called my husband who was at work, I have no idea why, it's not like he would know what to do, but I needed to hear his voice, ya know? No answer, so I left a message for him to call me back. Through tears and trying to fight the inevitable brain fog of a panicked soul, I fumbled with my phone in frustration trying to get my fingers to work and dial my sister Teresa's number, finally I managed to complete the simple task. You see, she has ducks and is also no stranger to avian crises. She picked up immediately (thank God!) and told me to call the man that I bought the hens from and then told me she would be at my house a.s.a.p. That was good advice coming from a clear mind, unfortunately the breeder did not pick up, so I left a message bordering on hysteria, poor man. Finally my husband called and was of course no help on what to do, but his loving and calm voice was reassuring to me anyway, keep in mind that all of this time I was trying to get Lily to drink some water. He told me to just put her somewhere calm and let the inevitable happen. Now this may sound cruel to some people, but in hind sight, it may have been the best thing to do, I will explain later. Anyway, my frantic mind was trying to remember what I had read about sick chickens. And of course, in this moment of immediate crisis I tried to find what I needed - a little syringe to get some water in her, but I couldn't find ANYTHING! At this moment, I would like to be an advocate of putting a well stocked medical kit together for chickens BEFORE you even buy them. Now picture me aimlessly wondering around my home sobbing and carrying a nearly lifeless little chicken, so pathetic right? When my sister arrived she asked where Lily was; I had put her on the work table out back, in order to regain some sort of composure. I needed to think and it was hard to think looking at Lily's nearly lifeless body. When we went to go get her, all the water I had managed to get down her little throat had come up in a pool around her little head. Not a good sight. I picked her up thinking it was all over when she actually perked up a bit, and so my sister would not let me give up, and I love her for that. We took her in and my sister jumped on the inter-web looking for advice after calling her avian vet only to be met with their answering machine, of course. She calmly told me we needed to get her warm and try to get some sugar water in her. So I wrapper her in some kitchen towels and forced her little beak open and put in some water and honey down her with my finger that I kept dipping into the bowl of honey water, and tilted her head back and gently stroked her throat, and she swallowed it. That was encouraging. I noticed and mentioned that she seemed quite a bit underweight, yet I had seen her eat and drink with the other birds. My sister asked if the other birds were bullying her, but I had not noticed any of that, especially since Lacy, a much bigger pullet seemed to protect her. Finally my husband came home, and gave me a much needed reassuring hug and kiss, then after seeing me try to feed Lily finger style, he casually walked over to our utensil drawer and pulled out a tiny medication syringe, the one I had been frantically looking for, and like one my sister left to the drug store to get, because I couldn't find it! [Sigh] While Lily was wrapped up, I thought it would be a good idea to get out my hair dryer and set it to "warm" in order to speed up the warming process, which is what we all want, a quick solution, right? It seemed to help a bit, Lily perked up some, more encouragement. When my sister got back in front of the computer, she emphasized that malnourished birds recover SLOWLY and it could take a few DAYS for Lily to perk up....she knows I'm a fusser. That means I can't stop fussing with something that should be left alone. And as if to drive that point home, Lily let out a very loud squawk, and stinky poop and then went limp. She was gone. And then, all of the water I had crammed down her little throat drained out of her beak. What Happened?I WISH I knew! I HATE, LOATH, and DESPISE --the not knowing! How can I learn from this if I don't KNOW what went wrong? From all of my reading, the only thing I can say is that I have got to take some responsibility for what happened, since I am (or was rather) her care taker, but what I did wrong is not clear. Did she need something special in her diet? If so, what? All of the other pullets are gaining weight, and none show signs of anything wrong, but that is not a good gauge, after all, Lily seemed fine too but then died in a matter of minutes -- minutes, after I discovered something was wrong. Did my sudden over fussing ultimately push her over the edge? Maybe, which kind of reminds me of that Tiny Toons character - Elmira (Loony Toons' "Elmer Fudd" counterpart) who killed animals with her "love and kindness" instead of shooting them with buckshot. Ironically, we Rivas children used to tease my sister Teresa about being "Elmira." I can't afford to send Lily to a vet for an autopsy, and even if I could, I think Robert would have a fit. In his mind, it's just a chicken, so you get a new one. We are not in the poultry business, this is a sort of hobby for me, so the cost isn't justified. Was it the dreaded Merak's (viral cancer) disease? If it was, she showed none of the typical signs, then again, there are three different strains of the disease, each with its own set of symptoms. Or did she just die because she was shrimpy, meaning that she may not have been a strong bird to begin with, only God knows for sure at this point.
But now, after a few days have passed, I find myself questioning if I should have done what Robert told me to do, leaver her to die peace without all the fussing. Even though that approach would have saved me a lot of effort and emotional turmoil, I would have regretted not having tried to do something. And now I find that I'm compelled to question everything that I'm doing with my hens. Would it be more sanitary if I changed their run floor from dirt to concrete? Should I start feeding them extra vitamins? Should I try to free range them a few hours a day even though there is a resident hawk that comes to call now and then? I guess farming is a never ending opportunity to learn from ones mistakes. No matter what I learn from others, my situation won't be exactly the same as theirs. Truly, going through something is far a better teacher than reading about it in a book or seeing it on video. Life is messy, and death sucks. At least I know that much for sure! The Sound of Music is one of my favorite things...and just like the song goes, bright copper kettles and...uh, well, warm woolen mittens would make my skin break out in hives, which is not one of my favorite things. Would warm oven mittens be an acceptable substitute? Anyway, my husband's aunt Helen gave this little beauty to me on Thanksgiving day, and I am truly thankful for the gift. I assure you that the monetary value of this fairly common piece of tea ware pales in comparison to its nostalgic value, because this bright copper kettle is very similar to one my mother owned many years ago. Today marks the first day of its use in my home, and other than a few scrapes, nicks, and other blemishes, it didn't leak any water and brought its liquid contents to a boil rather quickly, yet to my disappointment, when it got all steamed up it didn't whistle or shout. To be perfectly honest, I don't explicitly recall if my mother's little copper kettle whistled, but the fact that I anticipated the cheery sound might mean that a flicker of subconscious memory fueled the expectation. Then again, perhaps I hold the assump-tion that all tea kettles whistle when 212 degrees is reached. Oh well, its still as cute as a button, and it reminds me of my mother. On this bright chilly morning in SoCal, I was in the mood for a spicy tea, and so I pulled this little ruby red gem out of my tea drawer. This lovely tea is a gift from a good friend of mine who visited England a while ago, and I have savored it over the years. I know - I know, it may have lost some of its flavor since I first opened it, but it still smells and tastes great to me. Despite the infusion recommendation on the label, I only steep it for a minute or so, since over steeped black tea is considered to be rather bitter to my sensitive palate. And yes, I realize that it is called "Noel a' Paris" (Christmas in Paris), so even though I no longer celebrate this pagan holyday, it's not my fault this lovely tea was given this unwelcome moniker. I was simply in the mood for a spicy tea, and since it was the debut of my newly acquired nostalgic tea kettle, the special occasion called for a special tea, and despite the name, Noel a Paris perfectly fit the bill. I like this little contraption, it steeps loose leaf tea and then neatly dispenses into the mug below when you place it on top. The only pain is getting the sopping wet leaves out of the steeping contraption. And to further celebrate this special occasion, I whipped up some brownie chocolate chip scones, which just so happen to be my children's favorite scone, as well as my mother's. Tre' bien, no? As for me, well, I have yet to discover a scone flavor that I don't like. So from this day forward, thanks to the thoughtfulness of Aunt Helen, I now own a small piece of shiny copper that holds a great deal of wonderful memories, and I hope it will be the catalyst of many future memories. Other articles you make like:
House numbers have been missing from our home since I foolishly got rid of our sturdy screen door many many moons ago. Thankfully, there are numbers on our curb, but they can be covered by a parked car - - not good in case of an emergency. Our home is hard enough to find for most people, and that's because our street is broken up into 6 separate sections over several miles. A few weeks ago I finally got the urge to remedy this situation, so I began to look online to find the appropriate Mission/Craftsman style house numbers, and they had to be as inexpensive as possible too. What I found was a very limited selection. Either the numbers were extremely expensive, or they were too cheap. What to do? I was actually thinking of settling for the cheaply made metal/plastic numbers when my husband said something AMAzing! "Why don't you paint the house numbers on some scrape wood left from that dog house we got a while back?"
Mission/Craftsman flavor! There were also a few other things I had to consider before I started this project, like where was I going to hang it? This all important consideration would determine if the numbers would be arranged as seen here (vertically) or if would I make the sign horizontal. I chose the far left corner of our home as the spot for our house numbers to hang vertically. The area around our front door is just too congested with a hanging basket, flag pole bracket, and welcome sign. I think I made the right choice! Home sweet home! More articles....Yesterday morning, as I was cooking my eldest son's brunch, I heard a familiar tune coming from the T.V. in the living room, one I had not heard in decades, it was a hymn. Curious, I peaked around the corner only to see it was being played during a Guinness beer commercial. Wha.......really? I must confess, that kinda got my dander up. What unholy business does a beer company have in using a Christian hymn called "Leaning On The Everlasting Arms (of Jesus)" in its salute to the soldiers who are not yet home? Does this make any logical sense? It makes about as much sense as using Neil Diamond's iconic tribute to the Jews who were "Coming To America*," right? I mean, was there NO OTHER song that could be found to fit Guinness' sentiment? Were they oblivious as to the backlash they would start? Of course not, they knew exactly what they were doing. So ....what's a good Christian to do? *[Please save any and all comments calling me anti-Semitic, or a hater for what I have stated about Neil Diamond's song, it is simply fact. If you don't believe me, then do your own research. You might want to start with the first line in the song referring to the immigrants being without a home, but not being without 'a star' [note their flag] and the twice repeated lyrics declaring how they are traveling light today "in the eye of the storm", which is a Jewish reference to their persecution.] Demand An Apology? Please! Did Jesus demand a public apology from the Pharisees for making God's name stink among the other nations and for ruining the simple faith of Abraham in favor of their false man made faith of Judaism? Jesus will exercise his vengeance on his (and therefore our) enemies when he is good and ready. Boycott Guinness? That is such none sense, as if Christians buy enough of their beer to hurt their sales, well, at least I HOPE that's not the case (no pun intended). Let's be real. A good Christian should just know that this sort of thing is only going to get worse the closer we get to the end of the age, so we should admonish each other to keep the faith and not accept the lukewarm milquetoast sheep's excuses for mixing worldliness with God's holiness as a means of "witnessing" to the lost. By making friends with the world, you make yourself an enemy of God. A Lot of Hymns Are Recycled Bar SongsWhat?! Have you heard this claim dear reader? I have, and sadly enough, given the current example of many leading so-called Christians getting chummy with the world and its leaders, I'm fairly certainly this is plausible. But does that in any way justify this practice? Is it the right thing to do? Does the end justify the means? For the love of God, NO! No! The Scriptures are very clear, God' hates syncretism, no matter who is doing it and for what reason. If God were okay with it, then Paul wouldn't have had to cast the demon out of the fortunetelling girl who followed him and Silas around Phillipi- - the girl who claimed that Paul and Silas were servants of the Most High God, and were preaching the gospel of Jesus as being "a" way of salvation. Even though what she said was mostly true, the motivation behind it was evil. God doesn't need Satan's endorsement, and neither do his children. Like I've said before, just because chumming works for fishermen, and baiting works for hunters, that doesn't mean it's legal in every state. Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness? What harmony is there between Christ and Belial? Or what does a believer have in common with an unbeliever? What agreement is there between the temple of God and idols? For we are the temple of the living God. As God has said: Hymns Are Passe`?I am ashamed to say that my son didn't recognize that the background music for the beer commercial was a hymn, not until I told him, so what does that tell you about the musical condition of our modern day churches? Because I can't remember if my son has ever seen a hymnal in person, I asked him if he had ever cracked open a hymnal and he said, "No, I thought they were only in Catholic churches." Not to be dramatic, but I would surmise that most of our youth would say the very same thing. This is a sad state of spiritual affairs, my dear reader - - very sad. We have lost a treasure trove of deeply spiritual content that are contained with in those old time hymns, they have been traded in favor of the modern 7/11 repetitive tunes of the top 10 Christian rock-n-roll charts. You know, those mind numbing songs where 7 lines are repeated 11 times? It's as if song writers and producers these days think we can't memorize a longer song with deeper content. What happened to the soul nourishing and sound doctrinal songs like:
other instruments. Sure, even our former pastor liked the occasional acoustical version of praise songs that went as far back as 1970, but I can't say with much conviction we ever regularly sang any of the old hymns besides Amazing Grace. There is just something about those hymns that draw you into Christ centered praise and worship, that leave your soul laid bare, you know? And so, I for one would love to start hearing these timeless and completely relevant hymns being sung with gusto once more, by saints who desire a more meaningful expression of their faith, instead of the vapid 7/11 songs that are becoming more and more acceptable in the rapidly apostatizing body of Christ. The love for hymns that was once red hot has cooled considerably judging by the audacity of advertisers who feel free to use them as background music to push alcoholic beverages, even if it is supposed to be for our troops. It's just poor taste really. In my opinion, this is just one more symptom of the decay that has be set the Western christian church.
"Trick or treat," a pack of multi-costumed and masked children yell up at you from your front porch; the little extortionists greedily holding out their sacks for the loot they are sweetly demanding, or else. I didn't bother writing anything about Halloween last year, but I feel compelled to write a little something this year. You know, I still marvel about the power that this wicked holy day wields over sensible adults. Adults who not only excitedly don costumes of their own in order to hide their hypocrisy, but I marvel that they also encourage their children to do the same, all in the name of - - fun? Yes, for some strange reason, every day before and after October 31st, good people strive to teach their children that bullying is wrong, and that they should not harm anyone, or steal form people; except for one day a year when it's suddenly okay to toss all of that morality stuff out the window in favor of candy. Really? Candy? Why? These days candy is extremely easy to come by, so would someone please tell me what is so great about Halloween that it can lure law abiding citizens into teaching their children that masking their true identities behind costumes for the purpose of receiving treats via a veiled threat of harm (if the appropriate offering isn't given) is - - FUN!? Honestly, if this sort of thing happened on any other night, I assure you dear reader, that the police, and/or the paddy wagon would be called, right? To put it bluntly, extortion, no matter what form it takes, or when and by whom it is committed, is still extortion, and it's wrong! Call me a spoil sport, or a party-pooper if you will, I don't mind, but you can't call me a hypocrite, not on this issue anyway. Are You Of This World?As a born again Christian, I would truly L.O.V.E. - LOVE to see this abysmal satanic holy day obliterated, but since this world system loves its evil overlord and his malevolent high holy day, which has been dedicated to the pagan vegetable demon Samhain, it is only getting bigger, and badder as the years roll by. Yes, October 31st is actually a satanic high holy day dedicated to a demon of death.... I mean let's just think about this for a minute shall we? Why do you think there are dead, evil, and scary things that go along with the candy? Please allow me harp on what should be painfully obvious to us by now, there is a shiny and beautiful face that tries to lessen, or even seeks to completely hide the blackest and most sinister evil underneath it. For what purpose? To get people to go along with it, that's why. This truth is expounded upon not only in the Bible; it can be found in secular literature too. Rarely does one encounter outright evil, but this rarity is fading fast the closer we get to the end of the age. People are getting more and more accustomed to evil, but rather than shunning it, they are embracing it and even daring to call it "good." I am usually asked, "What's wrong with dressing up in a silly costume for one night and saying a harmless phrase to get candy? It's all in good fun, right?" These are the sort of justifications many well meaning, but clueless and unthinking people use every year to get out of doing what is right. Their consciences are becoming more and more callused. I assure you dear reader, my beef with this satanic high holy day isn't really with the world, after all, like the Apostle Paul noted in 1 Corinthians, this sort of thing is to be expected from unsaved people. The modern world at large runs on extortion, and I can't help but wonder if that isn't in large part due to the truth of what the image above states: " 'Trick or Treat' - Teaching children the basics of extortion since 1927." Judging by the amount of law suits these days, I guess we really do reap what we sow. However, this kind of thing should not be named among those who dare to call themselves Christians. It is the highest hypocrisy for a Christian to celebrate one of Satan's most holy days, don't you think? And justifying it by having a "harvest party" or using this pagan day's rights and festivities as a witnessing tool is just plain wrong. What about you dear reader? Where do you stand on this very important issue? Do you send your little ones out into the evil of this night dressed as a superhero (demigod), or Bible character? Are you of this world, or are you one of the few who refuse to bow your knee to Baal (Samahain)? Before you even think about quoting Matthew 7 to me, read that entire passage CAREFULLY and apply some thought to what it is actually saying. That passage deals with hypocrisy, not judging a Christian according to Jesus' standard of righteousness. Truly, for the uncompromising saint, making decisions to be counted among the righteous who refuse to participate in evil practices, like extortion, can become a lonely affair, because these brave souls are always, and I mean always in the minority, but as for me and my house, we'd rather suffer a little solitude, rather than join the great company of festive sinners. Was that a little harsh? Are you now offended and am I now an enemy because I told you the truth? Well let me dial 1-800-cry-baby for you so waambulance can take you to Weenie Hut General hospital! Seriously, I encourage those of you who call yourselves Christians to get sincere about your faithfulness to the Lord, and do some research into the origins of this holy day, and try very hard to be honest with yourself. Or are you scared of what you will find? Are you frightened that once you know the truth, then you too will have to make a choice for righteousness? Well, the choice is yours to make dear reader; I exhort (not extort) you to chose wisely! Other Articles to explore:
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Hello!Welcome to my blog, dear reader. My name is Heather, and I am a full time housewife and mom living in Whittier Ca. with my wonderful husband of 26 years, and our two sons. I welcome you and hope you enjoy reading what is on my mind. Subscribe to
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