The Distracted Cook

Being a good cook means that when I cook something, other people want to eat it. Being a good cook also means that I can make something tasty, consistently. I think being a good cook would be a good thing, for my family's sake, since I've been the main cook around here, feeding my family for 28 years.

So, what's my point?

I think I only manage to make something edible in about 6 out of 10 tries. So, how can that happen?

It's called
"NOT PAYING ATTENTION!"

That, and never actually following a recipe.

Here's as close as I can get to a recipe for my chicken-n-dumplings, which I have managed to make for other folks successfully a few times.

Fill a dutch oven about 3/4 full of water. Add "Better than Bullion" bullion from the jar. Good stuff. No MSG.

Add parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Hum Scarborough Fair. That part's required.

Add cooked chicken.

When it boils, add dollops of biscuit dough, made from your favorite biscuit mix. My favorite is Pioneer.

Set the burner on low and let the soup boil gently, pushing the dumplings down into the boiling broth occasionally and stir.

It's done when the soup is creamy and a sample dumpling is cooked through.


I made chicken-n-dumplings this evening, butI didn't take any pictures to accompany this blog, like some of y'all do so gracefully, because I would actually have had to clean my kitchen first. And redecorate it. Or remodel it. Nobody wants to see photos of my 20 year old Jen-Air on kelly green Formica counter top.

Even though it's one of Alli's favorite dishes, she only ate half a bowl this evening. Why is that? That would be because I used Pioneer pancake mix instead of biscuit mix. OK, the boxes look very similar... except for the word PANCAKE right on the front of the box, where BISCUIT MIX really oughta be. There also was a perfectly good box of Bisquick next to it, but no, I prefer Pioneer.

Chicken-n-dumplings with lightly sweet pan-caky dumplings turns out not to be so tasty.

I've been sick today and yesterday, so that surely has something to do with not being all there in my mind.

Last week, however, I made a BIG pot full, half for the family, half to take to someone who was sick. Let the chicken simmer for a couple of fragrant hours until it was tender and easily shredded. Dropped in some fresh white biscuit dough. Stayed close by and stirred until it was smooth and creamy, added spices until my taste sample was just right. Turned the burner off to wait until Alli got home. Sat down at the kitchen table to tear apart valentines for the nursing home folks. About 6 feet from the stove. Completely absorbed inside my own mind while I worked. Did I mention I was about 6 feet from the stove. Didn't look up until about 30 minutes later when Alli walked in the door and said, "what's that smell?"

Oh yeah. Instead of turning the electric burner to OFF, I had turned it to high. I think I'll have to give up and just throw that pan away completely. Or use it for potting soil or something, cause that burned chicken-n-dumplings isn't coming off of the bottom of that pot! I've tried. It took several days for the house to stop reeking of burned food.

I measure (sort of) when baking. But that's about the only time.

I'm most likely to walk off and leave a grilled cheese on the griddle because something in the other room catches my attention, and I'll be "right back." I can't tell you how many of those have hit the trash compactor instead of the dinner plate after I smell the smoking results from in front of the TV in the next room. My best advice for saving money in our house would be assigning someone to help mom stay on task while cooking.

There's just so many interesting things to do with my mind besides checking for that beautiful golden toasty color on a grilled cheese sandwich. I don't mind hanging out with a grilled cheese, really, it's just that the 35 seconds it takes to brown are so rich with thoughts that lead to other thoughts that require setting the spatula down that require stepping away from the stove for just a sec'!

I really am considering reading up on adult Attention Deficit Disorder. We would all end up eating a lot less cereal around here.

Rescue Mission Morning

The Journey Fellowship crew visited Oklahoma City, City Rescue Mission today.

Papa G definitely enjoyed the new style.



So did Fearless Leader Ryan



I enjoyed talking with the ladies who ran the kitchen and cafeteria.



Here's the whole crew before serving, sweeping, table wiping, dish washing, etc.



It's a beautiful facility that houses men and women and families, provides a clothing store, three meals a day, a tie to social services, training, and a lot of other essential services, all in Jesus' name.

It was an honor being sharing the noon meal with everyone there.

Repeated Random Attacks of Disabling Giddiness

Unfortunately this is a real symptom of a real disease. So my apologies if you really suffer from Meniere's.

But... I read that phrase on someone's blog and it turns out it's a screening question for UK drivers licenses! So if THEY are so concerned about people losing control of the vehicle due to disabling giddiness, how come we aren't? Are the British that much more giddy (giddier?) than we?

Repeated Random Attacks of Disabling Giddiness used to hit me in church, sitting between my sister and Billy Sawyer on Sunday nights when I was about 16. We would get the most uncontrollable giggles going. We had so many inside jokes since we'd been friends since birth, that it only took a word or look, or gesture to send us off. And if one of us happened to snort in an effort to keep the exuberance in, it was all over.

For some odd reason, I remember that my sister and I suffered another attack of RRADG in the limousine on the way to bury our Grandpa Johnson years later. I don't remember what got it started, but somebody said something in the back seat that provoked a response in the front seat, and when the funeral home driver snorted to keep from laughing, we all went down! The driver was a nice guy, and we really loved our grandpa, so we tried to apologize for inappropriate giddiness. He said it happened a lot, more than you would think. A way to release pressure.

I could use a little more giddiness. Like, wet your pants, can't breathe, rolled up holding your stomach kind of giddiness. Maybe I should have a slumber party.

In other news...

Alli and I went to see "He's Just not That in to You" at the mall last weekend. I was sitting in the theater, before the movie, intently focused on eating the Chick-fil-a I brought in my purse while Alli ran to the bathroom. I tucked my feet in so a young woman could get past me to her seat, but she paused right in front of me instead and said, "Hi, Mrs. Z. How are you?" I had just popped Chick-fil-a nugget number 4 into my mouth, so it was kinda rough trying to look up (Ever try chewing and looking up?)smile without the "see food effect", and attempt some dignity in my response. She turned out to be the mom of one of my first graders, and she was very sweet to act like my "ny oo meeee ooo!" was the way normal adults always speak to one another. Just after she sat down, a blond lady walked in the door loaded with popcorn and a huge coke and asked if the seat next to me was available. "Sure," looking up, "Jacky! I know you! Sure, I saved it for you. Come sit in the Piedmont row and meet the neighbors!" I think I accidentally drank her coke in the dark.

One last random thought I've been thinking about a lot lately so I thought I'd share before I think about going off to bed. You see, I make sense of life by pictures in my head. I can't figure out how to make numbers make pictures very well, so I don't do too well moving them around and making them make sense. But most everything else in life can be pictured. So, all my adult life, I have pictured time, hours, days, months, years, as ticks on a timeline, like the ones that hung on the wall in history class. Plan for tomorrow. Tick. Get a college degree. Tick. Get married. Tick. Get a job. Tick. Get a different job. Go back to school. Have sweet babies. Buy a house. Tick. Tick. Tick. It is getting unnerving the older I get! Too many ticks gone. How many are left for tomorrow? How come I can't get past that era on the timeline? And on and on and please shut up already!

SO, the other day I decided to change my metaphor before it makes me crazy(er). Just like that. No more timeline. So, here's my new picture.

My life is now a pretty farm pond, or a placid mountain lake. The days flow in and flow out. Life clouds up and rains on my pond sometimes. The sun tries to bake it completely dry. But the days just keep flowing in and out, fill and release, on down toward the ocean. Sometimes I hang out on the shore by the campfire, and sometimes I dive right in and have a swim. You get it. I'm not having to hop on my bicycle to race to beat the tick marks any more. I just hang out here, where it's more peaceful most of the time. I'm not "heading" anywhere. Just here. Just now. Just what I need.

See what good meds will do for you?
Peace.

Take it Outside

Could an oak tree and I share space companionably? I'm sitting on my couch in my living room wondering if there's any way to grow an oak tree right over there by the recliner. Probably not.

I enjoy being in my house. My couch is comfy. It's warm compared to the 35 degrees it is outside right now. I'm pretty sure no skunks will show up unexpectedly behind the shower door in the morning. My computer likes the electricity.

But the stars are out there. Outside. And the bright waning moon. And during the day, the huge Oklahoma blue sky is out there. And the trees I love.

It's like deciding between two good friends. My comfy house? Or the grassy, spongy hill down to the trees full of bird song.

I would love to let my good friends meet, in a house that takes the inside out, and lets the outside in.


I enjoyed checking out other dreamers' versions of their own inside out/outside in houses here. It's worth the visit.


The dilemma of bringing comfort to the outdoors is solved in this luxurious Indian tent, and the outdoors is a simple lift of a curtain away.



Here's the outside view.



I could live with that, until the Oklahoma wind made me crazy.


How about just creating alternate spaces outside for a living room.



Or a kitchen.



Or here is Australian gardener and blogger Stuart Robinson's suggestion for another room in the house that could be moved outdoors.



No, you don't need to adjust your bifocals. That is indeed a toilet to the left. The ultimate outdoor room; the bathroom! Robinson's blog post gives great suggestions for creating privacy with various plantings, trees, flowering shrubs, etc. around your open air tub.

Robert Frost says fences make good neighbors. Surely good bathroom walls also make good neighbors! At least a half wall and some dense brush! I don't know, though. I know some guys who could probably enjoy a great football discussion while reading the newspaper and takin' care of business while his neighbor is doing the same thing behind the rhododendrons.

I think, in my tree house, at least the bathroom will have walls and a door.

Tornado Warnings, Megaphones and the Hokey Pokey

It's been a pretty dry winter for Oklahoma. I drive by four shrinking ponds on my way to and from the school every day. The pond I pass when I go walking is down to a really large puddle in the middle of the basin.

Until today.

1:00 Tornado watch: notified staff, went to meeting
2:00 Returned from meeting. Parents began picking up their children ahead of the storm. Phone ringing relentlessly.

2:20 Tornado warning sirens go off. Send all 550 kids to their tornado shelter spots. Suspend parent pick up.

3:00 Released students from shelter areas. Set up to release students. Put bus riders on the bus.

Yeah, then after that it kind of became a blur. I think we put kids on the bus two more times and took them off again once or twice. Were there 4 or 5 separate storms that passed through? At one point I was standing on the cafeteria table with my megaphone trying to match kids with parents. I might or might not have launched into the Hokey Pokey from the top of the table.

Parents were patient. Students behaved, more or less, considering most of them were hanging out in bathrooms for long periods of time. Staff was incredibly, tremendously awesome. We'll find out tomorrow if everyone arrived where their parents wanted them to arrive.

At home, my front flower bed was drowned as usual. I seriously need to work on some drainage!

I Heart Emily Dickinson

THE GRASS

The grass so little has to do, --

A sphere of simple green,

With only butterflies to brood,

And bees to entertain,



And stir all day to pretty tunes

The breezes fetch along,

And hold the sunshine in its lap

And bow to everything;



And thread the dews all night, like pearls,

And make itself so fine, --

A duchess were too common

For such a noticing.



And even when it dies, to pass

In odors so divine,

As lowly spices gone to sleep,

Or amulets of pine.



And then to dwell in sovereign barns,

And dream the days away, --

The grass so little has to do,

I wish I were the hay!



- Emily Dickinson


Such a beautiful description of grass and the simple, calming things it gets to do all day; play with the butterflies and the bees and the dew and the sunshine. I wish I were there, this minute.
(Bring down birds chirping, bring up Minnie Riperton singing "Lovin' you, is easy 'cause you're beautiful. Doo-n-doo-doo-doooh, I'm more in love with you...")

I don't think THAT grass lives in Oklahoma, however. At the moment, any grass that has survived the freezing temps and ice this winter is shriveled brown and hanging on for dear life in the dry 40 mph wind that's making my loose gutters make that scraping metal noise and whistling through the space by the garage door latch that is missing the insulation.

If I were writing a horror flick for grass it would be filmed in Oklahoma. Probably in my back yard. The cold, cruel wind ripping their grassy friends and family from the grasping roots and sending the horrified blades sweeping across a dusty plain, to crash violently into my chain link fence, crushed by the weight of thousands of poor victims piling, and piling... Yes, well, it would probably also involve fire and ice somehow. And gophers. "Help!" the young blade screamed as the monster gopher grabbed it's tangled toes and tugged down, down, down into the red earth..."

Not sure how I started with a perfectly lovely poem from one of my favorite poets and ended up in a bad B movie. Must be the effects of the howling wind. Or Friday night fatigue.

So, how did that go now?

Loving you, I see your soul come shining through,
and everytime that we, oohh..
I'm more in love with you.

la la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la la la la la la...do do do doo ohhhhhhhh

"Let's fight the filth with forks and flowers!" Richard Reynolds

Ugly gets on my nerves. Ugly makes me uneasy and uncomfortable.

I'm talking about the bare or weedy patches of land that are unkempt, untended public spaces.

When I'm driving I always notice medians or roadsides, yards and campuses that are carefully designed, landscaped, weeded, trimmed, watered. Someone cares.

(long breath, slight smile, happy vibes in the brain!)

I also notice the neglect.

(discomfort, like when your socks are bunched in your tennies, short breath, bad brain vibes, yuck!)

It appears I'm not alone in these concerns. Check out www.guerrillagardening.org for a whole community of late night, after dark, sneak in with your trowel and tray of pansies and get out before the coppers come (it's a British thing!)kind of folks. Richard Reynolds chronicles the forays of Guerrilla Gardeners around the world where "troops" attempt to transform ugly, neglected spaces into attractive gardens, by organizing night time, unauthorized digs. There are entertaining photos and stories of night time digs from Sweden, Russia, England, and...California.

Here's the most impressive before/after sequence from Long Beach, California.







Richard "wrote the book" on Guerrilla Gardening, literally and you can purchase it on his site too. Who knew?

Check here for a how-to video on making seed bombs, to lob into those hard to reach places.

You get a flashlight. I'll get my dark hat,my garden wagon, my digging fork and a package of sunflower seeds. Where do you think we should start? Any nominations?

It's the Steelers Baby!

Even a non-football gal like me got totally caught up in the 2nd half of yesterday's amazing Superbowl. Of course everyone who was left by then in our party barn was on their feet and screaming, so it's not like I could read, or sip tea or anything that I usually do while I'm busy ignoring football.

The first half I was too busy enjoying the baby/small children chaos which is our church that had gathered in our barn. Lots of fun.