Good Old Fashioned Pancakes

Growing up, my house had a tradition of making pancakes every Saturday morning. This has not happened for my family, largely due to my husband's odd work schedule -- we never knew which days he'd be off in a week, so we just kind of made them whenever.

Z had today off, so I made some pancakes this morning. We are at the "clean out the freezer, have really weird meal combinations" phase, so it was a nice (normal) break to use up some of the blueberries in the pancakes this morning. I also made a nice blueberry compote to go with it, yum!

I have a confession to make: as much as I cook from scratch, I was raised as a Bisquick girl. My mother and grandmother used it, so I did too...until money got tight and it was too expensive to buy. The other brands just don't taste as good to me, so I started hunting for a good "from scratch" pancake recipe. I found several that were....okay...they turned out really thin and rubbery, though. My cooking bible that I use as a reference for just about everything, The Joy of Cooking, also didn't supply quite what I was looking for. I'll make a recipe as directed the first time, and then make adjustments as needed if I make it again. (I am an artist after all, I can't just duplicate something -- I have to make it mine) -- but this had me stymied.

I didn't ask for much: I wanted fluff, I wanted a particular texture, and I didn't want a bad baking soda taste. I finally found one that my husband and I both like on allrecipes.com, that beats the Bisquick ones hand down. Even if I have Bisquick in the house, I'll still use this recipe. I even make it exactly like it says, I don't change a thing -- although I will occasionally add a smidge of vanilla.

My kids inhale these every time I make them, and since the toddler/preschool set have some of the most discriminating, picky palates out there, I consider these to be a hit. Num num. Now if I could just find a good scratch biscuit recipe....I do still use the Bisquick for those.

Morning Cough-y

All of the flu symptoms have gone, but ONE: the annoying, loud, and body-shaking cough that, despite covering my mouth with my arm, guarantees me a wide berth from general bystanders. On the one hand, this pretty much insures my own seat on the subway or bus with room to stretch out, but on the other hand I have to tolerate dirty looks. At least it's just occasional at this point, though, so YAY!

*hack* *hack* *wheeze*

I think I'm going to lose a lung, or possibly my spleen. There's good money for those, right?

Thank God all the other stuff has abated though, I was going mad from my joints hurting -- especially climbing up and down the stairs. My 87-yr-old grandmother has some pretty bad arthritis, so this has given me some insight into what she deals with. Not fun, I'm lucky mine was just temporary.

With all the general poopy feeling in the house, though, we are seriously behind in our moving preparations. Even though we still felt yucky, I had to do "blitzkrieg cleaning" on Sunday and Monday, because we had potential renters coming to look at the house Monday evening. After a week of three of us in a malaise, the house could have possibly passed as a biohazard lab: Kleenex's overflowing the wastebaskets onto the floors, dishes piled up and out of the sink, Mount Saint Laundry in front of the washer...I think I saw a pair of my son's socks try to move across the floor on their own. A is only five, but that kid has some serious foot odor issues, has since he was a baby -- even in sandals.

Actually, it wasn't too bad, there was just stuff everywhere because I didn't have the energy to pick up toys or make my daughter do it. Clutter, clutter, added to all the stuff we'd started to pull out and go through to prepare for the move. Three piles on each floor: keep, yard sale, and throw out or freecycle.

People have offered to help, but the sorting phase is something that we really have to do. And we have opted to have a moving company come in and pack us up. We were originally planning to do this ourselves, but with our recent delays and Z's bad back, we figured it was worth it to pay for someone else to do the heavy lifting and driving the truck 1500 miles. So they come on March 9 and 10 to pack us and load the truck. There's really only one thing I can say that sums up this whole experience:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

There may be something to that "primal scream therapy"... : )

Z has moved our yard sale from this Saturday to next Saturday. And they say that women change their minds often. Heh. Hope it all sells, and if it doesn't, that freecyclers come quickly because we're running out of time, the movers come two days later.

*sigh*

*cough*

One Flu Over

One flu over (mostly)....two to go.

Great googaly moogalies! I'm not sure exactly what strain of flu is "going around", but it has knocked 3 of my family members on their butts. The only one unaffected (and we're praying, uninfected) is my daughter. So far, so good. This is not the stomach virus that a lot of people mistakenly call the "flu" -- this is the real old-fashioned influenza deal, complete with sore eyelids, fever and chills, etc. Nasty stuff, that.

I had a sore throat last Weds into Thursday, so when my husband started running a fever about 11:00 Thursday night I felt really bad -- I thought I'd given him something. Alas, it would seem that he did not have whatever I'd had and I had it backwards -- I started with the fever Saturday night into early Sunday morning, and my son started during the day on Sunday. At least my guilt over sharing something is gone. But if any of you start to get it, here's what you can expect:

Our fevers have all lasted 3 days, each. Z's ended on Sunday, mine and A's finally broke on Tuesday (in a blessed, but literally drenching episode). The fevers were high, too -- A's reached 104.5 and 104.7 at different times, so it was a challenge trying to bring his fever down when mine was right around 104 myself for a couple of days. I can honestly say I don't really remember a whole lot, other than being really lethargic and hurting and trying to keep moving up and down the stairs without falling down the stairs to get damp cloths to wipe him down (the only bathroom is on the first floor). The only one of us that threw up was A, but I suspect that was because of his very high fever and the temperature differential of the liquid we were trying to get him to ingest. He only did it once.

We have all had very sore throats, probably from drainage, horrible headaches, and excessive drool. Weird, but all of us have had a little extra spit over the last few days. Z is still dealing with the headache, achy joints, and a rather nasty cough -- but I watch his progress each day, because I know that that is where I'll be two days from now. I'm still in the lightheaded, achy joint (even toes and fingers! Good grief!), pounding headache, coughing phase, as is A. But we're getting better! I'm able to get by until I start coughing, and then my head feels like it's going to explode, and my chest muscles hurt from so much coughing over the last few days.

A hasn't even cared that his routine has been completely discarded for the better part of a week now -- he's felt like doing nothing but laying on the couch. He didn't even care that I finally turned off children's programming out of desperation and watched infomercials, just for something different. Yesterday A started to play with his sister a little bit, after his fever was gone, and this morning he is behaving fairly normal -- but you can still tell he's sore. Every time he tries to flap his hands to stim, he has to stop and gets this puzzled look on his face while he rubs his wrists and fingers.

One great source of frustration is the lack of communication between A and the rest of us. He still has a tendency to repeat the last word or words of whatever you just said, rather than volunteering anything. Z and I have tried multiple times to try to get A to tell us if his head hurts, or whatever -- to no avail. The only way I know what he's feeling right now is because I'm going through it myself. You can tell he's miserable by looking at him, but not why. This has caused us some frustration in the past -- especially with ear infections -- because he never tells us if something hurts, and we have no idea unless he starts acting differently that anything is amiss. *sigh* One of these days, we're hoping we'll cross that speech hurdle...

It would appear that once again, the flu shot manufacturers missed the mark in a big way, because this year's shot had absolutely no effect on keeping any of us from getting it, nor did it really reduce the length of time or the symptoms of the flu virus we have been fighting off (as the companies that make the flu shots love to advertise). The same thing happened last year, but luckily our family was spared. Other people in our area were not so lucky. Z has to get one every year, he has no choice, because he's required to by his job.

Bless Z's heart, he is still in the service for two more weeks, and Uncle Sam doesn't care how you feel. If you're not dead, you're at work. And, in the military, if you're sick, you go to sick call. Unless it's a holiday weekend, and the commander has issued Friday as an extra day off, so the clinic is closed -- yup -- from Thursday at close of business the week prior until the following Tuesday. Without that slip, you're out of luck, and the flu does not qualify as "urgent care" so he couldn't go that route either. And since Z didn't start getting sick until late Thursday night, he was one of those "out of luck" guys who just had to suck it up and deal.

So he's been to work last Friday (with a fever of 102.7), yesterday (Tuesday) and today. Sunday and Monday he wasn't scheduled to work, so that was nice. He was scheduled to work on Saturday and since he had a fever hovering around the 103 mark they let him stay home (his new NCOIC actually has a brain -- a seriously debatable fact about the one that just left. Don't get me started).

I'm so glad he's done with the random idiocy that occurs uniquely in the military setting. I have had many, many years of experience with it (I grew up with it), and I'm really fed up with it. We are proud to have served, and are proud of those that still are and will choose to do so in the future. But there really is an appalling amount of stupid junk our soldiers have to put up with -- mostly because "we've always done it that way". Just because you've always done something a certain way doesn't mean that it's not incredibly stupid. I don't advocate changing something just to change something, but if there are obvious issues, and solutions are available to better the situation -- wouldn't it make sense to make the improvements rather than digging in your heels and refusing to implement anything new "on principle"? That just smacks of ignorance and way too much pride getting in the way. Similar to a man in the Great Depression, who refused to let anyone give food to his starving family. Because he was too proud. And then the baby died of starvation. Stupid. But it happens.

A Little Extra Protein

I am not overtly frou-frou girly about much. Oh, I have my moments; I paint my toenails in the summer, and have recently started enjoying some different types of jewelry in addition to wearing my wedding rings (which is generally my only adornment). But I don't wear make-up most of the time, my usual "uniform" is either jeans and a t-shirt, or jeans and a sweatshirt, hair in a ponytail, and Birkenstocks. I catch snakes and lizards, am not scared of mice, and used to enjoy studying martial arts prior to a nasty car accident that has rendered my right hip largely immobile beyond normal walking angles.

But there is one thing....I am inexplicably freaked out by spiders and bugs. It is a true phobia -- most especially of spiders and, wait for it -- grasshoppers. Yes, grasshoppers. Completely unfounded, and ridiculous, really, but there you have it. I am terrified of them. I have thrown up when one landed on me. I know in my head that this makes no sense whatsoever, but I have never been able to even let a ladybug or firefly land on me.

Ironic, since I love gardening.

I know that bugs and spiders play a valuable role in just about everything on the planet -- not only are they part of the food chain for fish, birds, etc., but they also help break down rotting vegetation, aid in the spread of seeds and pollination itself, and some are "good" predators that keep the bad ones off of your flowers and produce. I just can't stand the little crawly things. I can look at them, but if they ever land on me, God help them -- and anyone's eardrums in the near vicinity. It is not a conscious thing, but I apparently emit a shriek loud enough and high enough in pitch to start all the neighborhood dogs up in a barking frenzy.

So, imagine my delight in discovering a little surprise in my breakfast yesterday. My husband made oatmeal and dumped some frozen blueberries into it...but didn't check over the berries or rinse them before dumping them into the oatmeal. Things were going well with the breakfast until I went crunch on something. "Hmmm," I thought, "those blueberry seeds are harder than usual...and --long? What the--?" and spit out a piece of shell, complete with leg. The rest of the bug that was left came out quickly.

I don't know if I'll be able to eat oatmeal for a while now.... I know there are many cultures worldwide that consider certain bugs to be something of a delicacy, and who eat them with great relish and don't generally die from ingesting them. However, the culture I was raised in is not one of the aforementioned ones, and this combined with my phobias just about did me in yesterday.

Let this be a lesson to always, always rinse and pick over any produce before ingesting it. Eschk!

Are You Ready For This?

Are You Ready For This?

We're moving to Texas in March.

Surprised? We sure are.

With Z getting out of the Army, he has been applying for anything and everything he can -- both in his field, and literally anything else, including at a furniture store and a factory. There just ain't anything local. Nada. Zip. All those jobs that were "guaranteed" just one year ago when he started looking have vanished thanks to the state of the economy, despite his "brilliant" resume by industry standards.

Z has been working odd hours, 24-hour shifts, etc. for the last six years and has very firmly decided that he absolutely will not work anywhere that won't give him Sundays off. He has been frustrated with his schedule not allowing him to be more active in our current church, and was really looking forward to the next chapter where we could spend a lot more time doing various projects and activities where needed.

Money is certainly not everything, we realize that even as young as we are. In fact, he did turn down an $80K/yr job in Atlanta. It required a lot of international travel to places one really does not need to be right now, and when he would be home it would be a 24-hr schedule that rotated throughout the week. No, thanks. Not only would it continue to mess up our family life, but would still prevent being active in a church.

But -- the doors have been opening in Texas, which was not anywhere in our thoughts or aspirations.

Texas? Really????

The only things I know about Texas are: it's a big state, it could legally secede from the union (and is the only state with this right), it gets really hot in the summer, it has a couple of large cities, and it's pretty much scrubby brush once you get past Dallas/Ft Worth area. Oh, and they have cows, one type of which is the mascot for a rather well-known university. Well, and I know a couple of people that live there/used to live there. But it has been made more and more abundantly clear, in too many odd ways that can be listed here, that this is where we're being led to.

Z has two positions available, and a possible third and fourth to choose from once we get down there. The first job he has: we are helping to start a church plant geared towards the needs of some of our war veterans who are returning from abroad -- and their families who have been left behind during the deployment. There really isn't anything in the area to minister to these people, which is astounding given the sheer volume of our troops that are in and out of this location routinely. The divorce rate and suicide rate has been astronomically increasing among our military members and is currently at its highest level, ever. This is in large part because of the stressors related to our service members' missions, and inadequate resources for counseling this sort of situation either before they leave or when they return. The old standby just isn't cutting it any more -- war time, like it or not, has to have a different response than the one given in a time of peace -- although the ultimate instruction manual that really helps people (the Bible) remains the same, of course. Of all places that should want to help, it should be the church, right?

Z will get a part-time paycheck from the church until it is established -- and is guaranteed to be able to be more active at church since it's his job! God hears your prayers, truly, although He has shown once again that He answers them in ways you don't expect sometimes. To supplement the income, Z has a final interview for a engineering position with a particular company on Tuesday -- in the words of the manager, "because they have to get that formality out of the way". We'll know more in a week or two once we get the formal letter from the company.

So, Z has landed at least one position in Texas, and we are leaving our house and home at the beginning of March. We're heading out, not completely sure what we'll find when we get there, but know that somehow everything will be taken care of. It's the most terrifying thing, with a weird calm assurance woven into it.

It is truly bittersweet. OUR plans were to stay here, and enjoy where we are currently at. We bought a house, we have made some very dear friends here that we'd love to grow old with, have made investments in local pastimes, shops, the elementary school for A... Ultimately, though, as the now-famous quote intimates, "It's not about YOU." We want to do what God wants more than we want to stay here, as nice as it is here.

I am going to miss my mountains, though. We are going to be in the eastern half of Texas, which has a distinct lack of mountains.

But, I suppose one up-side is that they have Sonic drive-ins there. The closest one to Z and I right now is about 4 hours away, and we have made passing comments throughout the last 6 years that we really miss them. Me for the Cherry Limeades, and Z for the chili cheese tots (also known as coronary in a cardboard tray).

I'll post more info as I get it. I've had no less than 10 people ask me this week if I will keep blogging. Yes, I'm going to continue blogging after we move, although there will be a hiatus while the computer is unhooked and on the truck. I don't own a notebook computer, and don't imagine my CPU would get WiFi inside a moving van. : )