Such a place really does exist!

There is a place. A lovely place where lovely things happen. Putt-putt golf, batting cages, bounce houses. And also, not so lovely things. Things like a girl whomping the pants off her father in a long-awaited air hockey match. Things like this same girl yelling in triumph for the entire state of Michigan to hear and wonder. Things like this girls mother (and this father's wife) taking pictures documenting this sad, sad day. Pirate's Park: A place where dreams come true. Well, for me at least.

The date: not so long ago.

The place: a near-neglected, disrepaired shack in Flint-town

The extras: Mom, devoted photographer of family feuds
Becky, apathetic sister, along for the ride
Kaeden, loving nephew, always roots for Aunt Sarah (and most determined giver of wet willies I've ever known.)
Mr. X, Park proprietor and all-around nice guy.

Here's what went down.

Though my dear father tried his level best to cheat (I had to REPEATEDLY tell him to "get your hand off the table before I break your fingers with the force of my awesomeness") I beat him fair and square with witnesses. Let the record show. Let the people hear and rejoice:

I AM VICTORIOUS!

And I thought I was a sore loser. He's already demanded a rematch (what's this now, best 51 out of 100?)

Oh, and plus? While my dad distracted Mr. X, Becky and I played on the bouncy things. Sorry, Mr. X! I know you said no adults allowed but we just couldn't resist!

A Question. And an update, too.

Is my brother-in-law's wife my sister-in-law?

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You may have noticed that I was gone for a while. Here's what I've been up to.

My parents came for a visit! Yay, parents! I whooped my dad at Wii Tennis yet again. Are you surprised? Also. Bean soup and fresh bread. Yum.

Steven's brother, Chris and Chris's wife, Amanda had their second baby. Welcome to the planet, Landin!

Steven's grandpa passed away, prompting a quick trip to Michigan. I knew him to be a good man. The first time I met him, he had my shy little introverted self sitting on his lap within about five minutes. He always remembered who I was even though we only got to see each other once or twice a year. I'll never forget his cry of "Sarah!" when I walked into his house after his wife died. That and his pipe. That ever-present, sweet smelling pipe.

Mini Thanksgiving dinner with the family. A lovely time.

My dad and I found a real, live, honest-to-goodness air hockey table! Yes, really! You've have to wait for the pictures of that blessed event. Mom?

Roughhousing with the nieces and nephews. Macaroni necklaces, sword fights and Little Shop of Horrors. Good times.

Wii Tennis Tournament

This has been a long time coming.

In case you've been living in a hole or something, my dad and I have an ongoing air hockey tournament. We were supposed to play during my last trip to Michigan, but were unable to find a table. So we settled on Wii Tennis. Which is just the same, dontchaknow.

Just so you know, the air hockey thing is going to last forever. Whoever the current "loser" is is always going to want a rematch, so look forward to hearing about air hockey adventures for a good long while.

Ahem.

Here are some photos from MY RECENT VICTORY! Woot! I kicked his butt from Michigan to Timbuktu! Oh, um what I meant to say was: we had a jolly time of good competition and mutual respect. A grand old time was had by all persons involved.

Ok, so here are the pics.



Pic # 1 shows us just getting started. See how nicely we're smiling? Notice my "team-player" behavior? Yes, pic # 2 is my victory dance, how could you tell? He didn't cry. Too loudly. In pic # 3 I believe I was accused of cheating. Pic # 4 shows my reaction to said accusation.

Christmas is coming soon, Dad. Bring on the air hockey!!!

Bring It On, Dad!

My dad and I have a long-standing air hockey competition going on. It all began when I was bragging to him over the phone about how I had beaten an entire youth group full of air hockey playing kids. So he decided to knock me off my "high horse" and say he could beat me with one hand tied behind his back.

Challenged.

Here I am looking vicious. Here he is looking terrified. I'm going for a visit in August. I'm ready, Dad. Bring it on!

Bad Body Image

So I'm sure most of us have felt unhappy with our bodies at some point or another. I wonder if you can pinpoint the moment it all began.

For me it all began in sixth grade. The end of sixth grade to be specific. I was sitting in the auditorium at rehearsal for "graduation" and we were all alphabetized and nervous and excited when the boy sitting next to me felt the need to say, "Wow, you have really big legs!"

Now I know that kids are cruel and all of that. I also won't pretend that all of my problems can be blamed on a sixth grader, it's just a little strange that this moment is burned into my brain: one exact moment when I discovered I wasn't perfect.

I was raised in a home where we were taught that "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." Well, we were taught that but of course growing up as one of four kids, you hear occasionally that your odor is less than appealing or your face resembles the dogs' behind, but overall...

Here's the weird thing: in sixth grade, I wasn't even overweight. I was always comfortable with my appearance because nobody had ever given me a reason to feel otherwise. It's cliche-ish, but why do we feel that we need to package everyone into the same little mold? My dad likes to say that if you put two kids in a sandbox, they'll play. They don't care about skin color or religious affiliation, they just want you to share the bucket and shovel. So are we taught to judge people? How? And how can it be avoided?

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Ooh, something else. I've got a weird nose. I never knew it was weird until somebody told me, "You've got a weird nose." And I was reeeealy self-conscious about it until I discovered that it's not weird, it's my dads. (Sorry, Dad, you've got a weird nose.) And now I like it.

So I'm wondering when you discovered you weren't perfect. Or maybe you ARE perfect. Let's chat, best beloved.


Me and my dad and our noses. I'm okay with that.

Bay, Bay for Everyone!

We've already established that my parents are awesome, right?

Here is the lovely apron they had made for me when I mentioned wanting a "June Cleaver- type apron" one Christmas. Isn't it cute?!

(Pay no attention to the sumo- hairstyle. That's how I always look in the kitchen.)

But what's that weird plant- like alien life form on the wall? Oh that? That's just my bay leaf wreath. What? You don't have a bay leaf wreath? Oh, for shame. I pity the fool who doesn't have a bay leaf wreath. Bay is so good in so many things. Liiiikkkkeeee...

Mr. Brown's Tomato Sauce

You'll need:

2 (28-ounce) cans whole, peeled tomatoes (or you can use fresh. This is perfect for when your neighbor brings you twelve bushels of their leftover tomatoes.)
1/4 cup sherry vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 onion
1 carrot
1 stalk celery
2 ounces olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons capers, rinsed and drained (no capers for me)
1/2 cup white wine (I use chicken broth)
Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
Bay. Tons of bay. The recipe doesn't call for it, but I think it adds a little extra flavor boost.

In a sieve over a medium non-reactive saucepot, strain the tomatoes of their juice into the sauce pot. Add the sherry vinegar, sugar, red pepper flakes, oregano, and basil (and bay, if you're using it. And why wouldn't you use it?) to the tomato juice. Stir and cook over high heat. Once bubbles begin to form on the surface, reduce to a simmer. Allow liquid to reduce by 1/2 or until liquid has thickened to a loose syrup consistency.

Squeeze each tomato thoroughly to ensure most seeds are removed. Set the tomatoes aside.

Cut carrot, onion, and celery into uniform sizes and combine with olive oil and garlic in a non-reactive roasting pan over low heat. Sweat the mirepoix until the carrots are tender and the onion becomes translucent, 15 to 20 minutes. Add the tomatoes and capers to the roasting pan.

Place roasting pan on the middle rack of the oven and broil for 15 to 20 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes. Tomatoes should start to brown slightly on edges with light caramelization. Remove the pan from the broiler. Place the pan over 2 burners on the stove. Add the white wine to the tomatoes and cook for 2 to 3 more minutes over medium heat.

Put the tomatoes into a deep pot or bowl and add the reduced tomato liquid (minus the bay leaves) to the tomatoes. Blend to desired consistency and adjust seasoning.

Perfect for spaghetti, pizza, or whatever else your twisted little brain can come up with.

Fractals

Okay, back to The Shack. The character playing the Holy Spirit in this book makes a point of mentioning fractals and how much she loves them. If you're like me and have to use Wikipedia to figure out what the heck a fractal is, here's the definition: "a rough or fragmented geometric shape that can be split into parts, each of which is (at least approximately) a reduced-size copy of the whole." Like, I don't know, a snowflake? Have you ever looked closely at one? I doubt a human could come up with something so complex and yet billions of snowflakes fall daily and no one sees most of them except the One who created them.

What incredible structure and design for something so simple.

Or leaves. Or mushrooms. Are they made the way they are to please us or to please God? Or our own bodies. We're fractals, folks! Take a close look at your skin. Or our eyes. Did you ever stop and think about how amazing it is that we can see? If I ask him nicely, maybe my dad will share how awesome our eyes are. (He's got glaucoma and is enamored with the pictures that the eye specialist took of his eyes.) We are fearfully and wonderfully made.

I've been watching the BBC's Planet Earth and my brain is full of fractals. Now that I know what they are, I'm seeing them everywhere.

Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.
--Luke 12:27

Picture stolen from wikipedia. It's an eye scan, can you believe it?

Mom's Enchiladas (tada!)

Ask and ye shall receive!

The original recipe came from a Michigan-Texan church lady named Debra Crane. My mom and another church lady named Connie (are you out there?) had a Texas cooking fest where Debra taught them the "real" way enchiladas should be.

From mom: "Last time I made it, I used 10 lbs of ground beef and two huge containers of enchilada sauce from Gordons, and just doubled or tripled everything. I knew when I made these, they would be passed around the church, and each of the kids' families would get one pan (at least) and we had to put one away for when I JUST DIDN'T FEEL LIKE COOKING! Now at least, when I make lasagna, if I didn't get the pans back, well, maybe they don't get any......."

Enchiladas

2 lb gr. Beef
1 lb. Sweet Italian Sausage
1 large onion - chopped
1 lg. green pepper – chopped
1 ½ tsp garlic powder
3 tsp. cumin
3 tbsp. chili powder
10 drops Tabasco sauce
2 tsp. salt
1 can Old El Paso enchilada sauce

Sauté above ingredients until browned and then drain off fat.

ADD:
1 or 2 Cans refried beans
1½ cup fresh mushrooms slices (optional) or a can of sliced mushrooms
2 tbsp. hot peppers (optional) – chopped

Roll meat mixture into:
flour tortillas – (approx. 15 large – however any size is fine) – have tortillas at room temperature, they will roll better.

Put a small amount of Old El Paso Sauce (about a half a can) on bottom of a lightly sprayed with Pam 13 x 9-inch baking dish. On work surface of cupboard, place 1 flour tortilla and put at least a couple of tablespoons of meat/bean mixture on tortilla. Fold over ends and roll up. Place in a baking dish.

Repeat until pan is full. Cover with rest of enchilada sauce. Top with both kinds of cheeses. Make sure to cover all of tortillas with sauce. Do not let any of the tortilla show.

Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes or until cheese is bubbly and hot.

YUM!

I usually make enough for dinner and several to freeze. Freezes well. Thaw completely before baking.

And a bonus recipe!

Salsa

¾ cup ketchup
¼ tsp. garlic powder (more to taste)
3 tbsp. hot peppers (more to taste)
1 28 oz. can stewed tomatoes
1 med onion, chopped (or to taste )
1 med green pepper, chopped
½ tsp salt

Combine above ingredients (except ketchup) in a blender and blend just a few seconds. Pour into a saucepan and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally.
Add ketchup, simmer and stir occasionally until thick, 2-4 hours.
Store in a glass container
Recipe can be doubled.

Since my mom almost never has a picture taken alone, here's one of her and my dad...

The Shack

Church was canceled due to snow (snow! in Memphis! in March!) and I've learned something today. Or maybe I just realized something that I've known all along.

I'm at home all alone reading The Shack. My dad recommended it to me. He who doesn't read fiction as a rule told me it was a must-read. I'm only about a hundred pages in and this man has explained the Trinity in a way that makes so much sense I'm a little overwhelmed. Okay, a lot. I've been teaching Sunday School for about eight years now and I've taught the doctrine of the Trinity several times. Or tried to teach it. Try explaining to a group of second and third graders that God is one Spirit but three persons and watch their little faces as their brains try to reconcile that fact. How can I really teach something that I don't fully understand myself? Honestly, I don't think our puny, imperfect human minds can comprehend the ways of God. Maybe someday God will allow us to understand.

I've been crying, no weeping, for the last half hour as I try to come to terms with what I've just read. Jesus, though completely God and therefore completely free and all-powerful, chose to live as a human on a moment-to-moment basis. At any second he could have given up this wretched earth and returned to heaven but he chose to stay. For you and for me.

Speaking on the nature of Jesus, William Paul Young writes:

When we three spoke ourselves into human existence as the Son of God, we became fully human. We also chose to embrace all the limitations that this entailed. Even though we have always been present in this created universe, we now became flesh and blood. It would be like this bird, whose nature it is to fly, choosing only to walk and remain grounded. He doesn't stop being the bird, but it does alter his experience of life significantly.

Although by nature he is fully God, Jesus is fully human and lives as such. While never losing the innate ability to fly, he chooses moment-by-moment to remain grounded. That is why his name is Immanuel, God with us...Jesus is fully human. Although he is also fully God, he has never drawn upon his nature as God to do anything.

I'm not finished with this yet, not by a long shot. I'd recommend this book to anyone who's ever puzzled over the nature of God. You may just learn something.

Don't Bring Me Down

The title has nothing to do with the post, except maybe if you stretched your imagination and pretended to be a migratory songbird and you didn't want to land.

Ahem.

I SAW THE BIRDS TODAY!

For a long time I was the only one who could see them. Then came my parents. They came to visit us, I believe it was last February, and we ALL saw them. We (being ever so adventurous, full of Mexican food, and having no place to go) decided to follow them to see what they were doing.

Okay. Now at the risk of losing all of your interest, let me tell you about the birds. Every year, hundred of birds, thousands of birds, million and billions and trillions of birds use the Mississippi River as a giant landmark as they migrate throughout the country. They roost in a lovely place called Shelby Farms, which has plenteous trees and bushes to keep them safe and happy.

We followed them as they flew in for the night. The smell was atrocious, and I don't know who had the bright idea of opening the sunroof, but the sight was amazing. I'm only sorry that I wasn't able to catch a little more on the camera.

Check it out.


Yes, that is me on the audio. As far as I can tell, I'm saying "Oh my gack! Listen to them! They're all, like, shclug, cruising away from us like what the heck is following us!"

No, I don't know what I was thinking. I was a little excited.

It's kind of nifty to see, though.

My Voices

I made a cake for church today and I noticed for the very first time that I have voices in my head. Mr. Brown is there sometimes, sometimes it's just me or my grandma, and sometimes it's my parents.

When I cook, it's my mom. Growing up, whenever I'd get frustrated with myself for breaking an egg yolk or baking the cookies too long, she'd always tell me to keep trying, "you'll get it when you have more experience."

When I drive, I always hear my dad. On the way to Uncle John's house there is a meeting of two highways where you drive in a complete circle. The speed limit is 20, I think. Every time we go, no matter who is driving, at this curve he'll say "slow right down now, slow right down."

Here in Tennessee, there is a similar curve and without fail, either out loud or in my head, I'll say "slow right down now, slow right down." It's even rubbing off on Steve.

By the way, my mom was right about the experience thing. I can usually make food turn out the way I want it, but I learned that taste is much more important than presentation. On the way to church, this cake had an untimely run in with it's carrier. It was a mess, but instead of following my first impulse to fling it against the wall or just throw the whole thing in the trash, I ate it. It tasted excellent.

Killing Time

When I'm not exercising with the Wii Fit (ever after known as "fitzercising" in my home, and by the way, I've lost three pounds), I love to watch movies. Lately I've been into movies that are decent, have a good message, and don't make me vomit from an overdose of corn. Without further ado (okay, maybe just a little more ado), here they are, in no particular order:

Pete's Dragon. Especially for this guy. I love the song about what he plans to do with all of Elliot's body parts after they kill the dragon. Oh wait, maybe this one's not so kid friendly.

And PLUS I just found out one of the hillbilly brothers is Kenickie from Grease!!! That's right, folks, if Elliot is lucky he'll get a hickey from Kenickie. Because a hickey from Kenickie's like a Hallmark card. AND it's got Red Buttons and Mickey Rooney who's always drunk!

Pollyanna. Because this one made my dad cry. He's been so insistent that I see it that I'm sure I'll find a copy in my Christmas stocking this year.

Well Dad, I watched it this week and even Steve was sucked in by Pollyanna's charms. I've found myself playing the "glad game" this week at work and I actually don't want to rip the heads off my boss and coworkers! (Well, not as much, at least.) Okay, I've never actually wanted to rip anyone's head off. Maybe just pull on it a little.

The Parent Trap. But not the crappity remakes. There's just something about Hayley Mills. This one's got Hayley Mills TWICE! In case you haven't seen it, there's a part when one Hayley Mills plays a prank on the other Hayley Mills by cutting off the back of her dress. Ever since seeing this as a kid, I just know someone's standing behind me waiting to disfigure my clothing (especially at church, I mean, gosh, those senior citizens are so devious). No really, I'm paranoid about this. Yet another reason that I'm weird, I guess.

Freaky Friday. But NOT the remake! The older version's got Jodie Foster in it, and who doesn't love Jodie Foster?

The idea of changing bodies with someone so you can see how they live is kind of intriguing, right? Though in my case I may not want to give trade back, especially if you morph into, I don't know, Oprah.

Really though, this is a great movie and Jodie Foster eats ice cream for breakfast EVERY DAY.

The Emperor's New Groove. Everybody, this is Yzma. Yzma, meet everybody. She's voiced by Eartha Kitt. She is devious (Yzma, not Ms. Kitt) and hilarious and with Kronk (her assistant/boy toy) they steal the show, in my not so humble opinion. Squeak squeakins squeak squeekers. (That's 'watch this movie, it's really great' in chipmunk language.)

Oh, and David Spade and John Goodman and Wendie Malick, too. I'm just realizing how many of my everyday expressions come from this movie. Man, I really need to get a life.

Singin' in the Rain. Alright, have you SEEN Gene Kelly? There is a reason that I watched this every single day for a few childhood years, and it wasn't the snappy dialogue (well, okay, I love the snappy dialogue). But Gene Kelly, people! He was awesome! Happy memories = Singin' in the Rain + mac n'cheese.

Let's see, good lines. Ooh, how bout "I can't make love to a bush!" from Lena Lamont or "I can't stand him." also from her or the whole Moses supposes his toeses are roses song. Ah, good times.

James and the Giant Peach. Because Roald Dahl is the man. Everything he wrote is worth reading, and this adaptation of his book is very well done. It's produced by Tim Burton and is made in his signature style (like Corpse Bride and The Nightmare Before Christmas). It's funny and good and not sickeningly sweet like a lot of kid's movies are.

I say all this to get you to join Swap A DVD. Well, actually, I really wanted to post this blog, but what a great commercial for DVD swapping! Click to swap DVDs for freeeeee!

A New Presidential Candidate...

I dislike politics, so I'll refrain from mentioning them too much in this blog, except for this one little post. Since both of the major candidates leave a lot to be desired, I've come up with a new choice:

Sarah's Dad for President! Ooh, and I've got the best running mate for him! Sarah's Uncle John for Vice-President!

That's right folks, not only are they handsome and brothers and men of character, but they're KENNEDYS!!!

And when the other guys do all the research for the mud-slinging, the worst thing they'll come up with is that my Dad wore black socks with white pants. To his wedding. Which is pretty bad, but still forgivable. Unless you're his wife.

What more could you ask?

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Also, I have a new most hated "word." Guesstimate. I am utterly appalled that it didn't show up with a wavy red line when I just typed it. Which means that some cretin decided to add it to the dictionary, which is why there is insanity in this world (mine), and why it never seems to get any better. Guesstimate.

I guess the mud-slingers could use me as my family's dirty laundry. I'd have to quit blogging. Hmmm. Or maybe I could just become anonymous.

We'll Leave the Light On

I just love my parents.

We had a guest preacher at church this morning. He talked about the parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). Whenever I hear this story, I am always reminded of my parents and the porch light.

Whenever one of their kids were out and about, they would leave the porch light on so they can see easily enough to get in the front door. No matter how late I came home, (I didn't have a curfew) even if it was 3 AM, the light would be on, welcoming me home.

Now I live far away, but once upon a time, I drove up for a surprise visit, and lo and behold, the light was on! Now, I'm sure it was a mistake, that someone had just forgotten to turn it off before bed, but I like to believe that they were still waiting for me. Knowing I wasn't home where I belong and waiting for me to come home.

The same is true of God. No matter how far away we roam, no matter what heinous or sinful acts we commit, He is always waiting, seeing us coming from far away, running to us and crying with joy to have us back where we belong and instantly forgiving us of all wrong.

The father in the story always reminds me of my parents, so glad to have me back again.

Come on, Christmas!

My nephew (Alex, age 2) started Head Start a few weeks ago. His classroom has a camera where parents and other family members can watch the class while they play, eat snacks, and even take naps. I've been following it religiously since I discovered it. Today my sister told me to watch at around 3:00 while my dad came to pick him up. Imagine my surprise when not only my dad, but my mom, my sister, and two other nephews paraded in front of the camera, waving. I couldn't resist calling my dad so I could "see" him while talking to him. It was very sad to watch them walk away.

Hurry up, Christmas! Only 105 days left!