So here is a little something about me. I hang out with crazy people. And those are just my co-workers. Ok, seriously. I am a psychotherapist and the majority of people I work with currently are dealing with serious mental illness. One of those things that several clients deal with is paranoia. That is, thinking that others are out to get you. And not just thinking it but really KNOWING it.
Ok, stop laughing at me.
And it's no use looking like that because I just know you will do it when I am out of the room.
Yeah, that kind of thinking.
Unfortunately, that kind of thinking often leads to lots of doubt and unhappy relationships as well as a general attitude of discontent.
So, I was wondering how a "reverse paranoia" might work. Would it produce the same kinds of opposite results?
You know, I am saying that what if when you woke up tomorrow morning, you just KNEW that everyone you meet or everyone you know is out to make your day---AMAZING!
That good morning kiss that woke you up? Yeah, just for you.
The kids who giggled when you woke them up? For you.
That english muffin that DIDN"T burn? For you again.
All those green lights on the way to work? Just for you!
So, that guy who opened the door? Yeah, he did it just for you.
Those muffins at work? Your office mate brought them because they were thinking of you.
That thank-you from your boss? All. about. you.
Because if everyone is really thinking about you and how to mess with your day, who says that it is not tipping the scales for the better.
So tomorrow morning, when you wake up, just check it out and see if the conspiracy theory is really a conspiracy just to make you smile.
Oh, and by the way, this blog entry? Yup, it's all for you, baby!
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Eating humble cupcake
I admit I thought the whole cupcake craze was ridiculous. I rolled my eyes at the excitement fellow facebookers had as they posted link after link of their cupcake creations. I have watched one episode of DC Cupcakes and I thought a reality show was not just a bit over the top, it was WAY over the top. After all, moms that made cupcakes were just compensating for lack of skill in the art of cake decorating (a skill that my mother was able to use quite frequently in our home with 8 children!).
Now serving: one large serving of humble cupcake-chocolate of course!
My son had a birthday party for his 10th birthday on Saturday and I decided to make cupcakes. Then, as I was thinking about the ice cream to go with those cupcakes, I thought "Hey--what if the ice cream was INSIDE the cupcake-like a cold, creamy surprise???" Thus began the journey.
Yes, I believe that inspiration can come from God. So, since the streets of Heaven are paved with chocolate, as the great chocolate philosopher Alan Okelberry claims (see Welcome blog post), then why would he not inspire me in all things chocolate?? I also turned to the other source of inspiration (although not necessarily good) that great Google on the screen. The delicate balance between cake and ice cream must be honored. But I could not find anything to match the picture in my mind's eye.
So I made it up! Seriously, it's chocolate-impossible to mess up:)
First, I had to make the cupcakes to ensure they had time to cool. I used the big cupcake tins. Sorry, no special recipe. Just Duncan Hines for these ones.
I first had to create a chocolate shell. I tried some chocolate bark, but it was like eating those wax lips and wax coke bottles when I was a kid. There were semi-sweet chocolate chips lurking in my pantry (of course) so I tried those. They stuck to the paper and crumbled. I combined the two and it didn't set well. Here are my failed attempts:
So I got some candy melts from Michaels, dark cocoa of course, and tried those. Using a microwave and plastic decorating tubes, I melted and squirted them into the cupcake papers. Just cut a small hole and pipe it onto the sides of the cupcake paper first and then the bottom. Using a knife, I spread the chocolate around to make it even. Putting them in the freezer for about 10 minutes well help them to set up fast.
After they were set up, I pulled out some vanilla ice cream (seriously, Kirtland brand is SOOOO creamy!) and let it thaw get a little bit soft. Using the big cupcake tins (6 cupcakes per tin), I was able to put a scoop in each and kind of smushed it around to make it flat.
To make a good balance, cut the cupcakes in half horizontal y and put one half on top of the ice cream. Kind of push it down a little bit to get the ice cream and cake to mesh. (I had help from the birthday boy and friend for this step.)
With some great chocolate buttercream frosting and sprinkles on the top, they go back in the freezer until serving time. You will want to serve these on plates with a fork or spoon cause they will get messy.
And that is my journey to the dark side of cupcakes!! Although the result was quite tasty, that was not the pay off for my cupcake delight. It was just really fun to be creative and see what I could do! The joy was really in the journey.
Now then, I think I saw something about graham cracker crumbs, chocolate, and toasted marshmallow frosting. . . .
Now serving: one large serving of humble cupcake-chocolate of course!
My son had a birthday party for his 10th birthday on Saturday and I decided to make cupcakes. Then, as I was thinking about the ice cream to go with those cupcakes, I thought "Hey--what if the ice cream was INSIDE the cupcake-like a cold, creamy surprise???" Thus began the journey.
Yes, I believe that inspiration can come from God. So, since the streets of Heaven are paved with chocolate, as the great chocolate philosopher Alan Okelberry claims (see Welcome blog post), then why would he not inspire me in all things chocolate?? I also turned to the other source of inspiration (although not necessarily good) that great Google on the screen. The delicate balance between cake and ice cream must be honored. But I could not find anything to match the picture in my mind's eye.
So I made it up! Seriously, it's chocolate-impossible to mess up:)
First, I had to make the cupcakes to ensure they had time to cool. I used the big cupcake tins. Sorry, no special recipe. Just Duncan Hines for these ones.
I first had to create a chocolate shell. I tried some chocolate bark, but it was like eating those wax lips and wax coke bottles when I was a kid. There were semi-sweet chocolate chips lurking in my pantry (of course) so I tried those. They stuck to the paper and crumbled. I combined the two and it didn't set well. Here are my failed attempts:
Now then, I think I saw something about graham cracker crumbs, chocolate, and toasted marshmallow frosting. . . .
Friday, September 9, 2011
How deep are your roots?
root (roo't) a part of the body of a plant that develops, typically, from the radicle and grows downward into the soil, anchoring the plant and absorbing nutriment and moisture.
I love words. Can you tell?? Not just cool words, like "fantasmagorical" or sophisticated words such as, well, sophisticated. But I like to know the definitions and where the words came from. I find deeper meaning in them. Such was the case with the word "roots". You may or may not have felt the wind or rain from the recent Hurricane Irene which ravaged the East Coast. I did not. But I was impacted by her as I viewed the wake and talked with those who felt her wrath. One friend, from North Carolina (or maybe Virginia, I can't keep track. Her husband is in the military;), posted pictures of her neighborhood after Irene left. Predictable, there were tree branches and limbs all over and ponds of water here and there. I was surprised by the amount of trees that were uprooted. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the roots of these trees were quite widespread but obviously not very deep. As you know or can imagine (those from the West can only imagine;) the East Coast states are quite green and plentiful with foliage due to the moisture they receive on a regular basis. Just a quick science lesson--Roots are somewhat lazy and will take the first bit of moisture they come to. The drier the climate, the deeper the roots have to do to receive moisture and nourishment, down to the supply Mother Earth keeps well hidden. Because the trees in the East receive regular rain, their roots don't have to dig as deep to receive moisture.They get it from the surface and do not have extend to a well established table deep within the bowels of the earth. Those here in the West receive sporadic rain and must dig deeper into that life-sustaining water table.
Lest you believe this blog is about trees, it's time to "dig deeper" and analogize (you know, the verb word for analogy.)
The storms of life are ever present. Sometimes they ravage like Irene. Other times they are breezy. And then, once in a while, all is calm for short periods of time. We can complain and grumble and cry when Irene-like conditions uproot us, or we can take time to examine our roots and determine how we can extend our roots deeper to withstand the storms of life.
Although it was only the East coast that experienced Irene, I believe we have a stronger disturbance over our whole nation. As a whole, we are experiencing economic and political upheaval. Our towns are ravaged by emotional disturbances as people from all walks of life strike violently. It has been 10 years since the terror attacks of 9/11 and the scars run deep. All of these winds of life leave our roots exposed and we can ask ourselves,
"How deep do my roots go?"
Just as the trees and plants that surround us, how deep they run depends upon where we receive our nourishment from. Do we depend on a moisture we receive from the surface, or do we dig deep into the water table that is well established?
I have not had to hunker down and withstand hurricanes or earthquakes. I have managed to hide from a few tornadoes in my Midwest days. But I have had my share of storms in my life. And my roots have been exposed. I know that when I plant those roots DEEP into God and the gospel of Jesus Christ, I can stand firm. Deep roots do not keep you from feeling the storms. They simply keep you upright. Yes, some of my branches are ripped off, some scars are deep, and at times I have felt my bark stripped.
But I am still standing.
How deep do your roots go?
I love words. Can you tell?? Not just cool words, like "fantasmagorical" or sophisticated words such as, well, sophisticated. But I like to know the definitions and where the words came from. I find deeper meaning in them. Such was the case with the word "roots". You may or may not have felt the wind or rain from the recent Hurricane Irene which ravaged the East Coast. I did not. But I was impacted by her as I viewed the wake and talked with those who felt her wrath. One friend, from North Carolina (or maybe Virginia, I can't keep track. Her husband is in the military;), posted pictures of her neighborhood after Irene left. Predictable, there were tree branches and limbs all over and ponds of water here and there. I was surprised by the amount of trees that were uprooted. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the roots of these trees were quite widespread but obviously not very deep. As you know or can imagine (those from the West can only imagine;) the East Coast states are quite green and plentiful with foliage due to the moisture they receive on a regular basis. Just a quick science lesson--Roots are somewhat lazy and will take the first bit of moisture they come to. The drier the climate, the deeper the roots have to do to receive moisture and nourishment, down to the supply Mother Earth keeps well hidden. Because the trees in the East receive regular rain, their roots don't have to dig as deep to receive moisture.They get it from the surface and do not have extend to a well established table deep within the bowels of the earth. Those here in the West receive sporadic rain and must dig deeper into that life-sustaining water table.
Lest you believe this blog is about trees, it's time to "dig deeper" and analogize (you know, the verb word for analogy.)
The storms of life are ever present. Sometimes they ravage like Irene. Other times they are breezy. And then, once in a while, all is calm for short periods of time. We can complain and grumble and cry when Irene-like conditions uproot us, or we can take time to examine our roots and determine how we can extend our roots deeper to withstand the storms of life.
Although it was only the East coast that experienced Irene, I believe we have a stronger disturbance over our whole nation. As a whole, we are experiencing economic and political upheaval. Our towns are ravaged by emotional disturbances as people from all walks of life strike violently. It has been 10 years since the terror attacks of 9/11 and the scars run deep. All of these winds of life leave our roots exposed and we can ask ourselves,
"How deep do my roots go?"
Just as the trees and plants that surround us, how deep they run depends upon where we receive our nourishment from. Do we depend on a moisture we receive from the surface, or do we dig deep into the water table that is well established?
I have not had to hunker down and withstand hurricanes or earthquakes. I have managed to hide from a few tornadoes in my Midwest days. But I have had my share of storms in my life. And my roots have been exposed. I know that when I plant those roots DEEP into God and the gospel of Jesus Christ, I can stand firm. Deep roots do not keep you from feeling the storms. They simply keep you upright. Yes, some of my branches are ripped off, some scars are deep, and at times I have felt my bark stripped.
But I am still standing.
How deep do your roots go?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Crossroads
For the past four school years, I have been the K-8 counselor at my son's school. Every morning my "post" would be the intersection of the Elementary hall, Middle School hall, and Cafeteria/Common area. That was strategic decision on my part and not just happenstance. This way, I could see and greet ALL of the children. There was no way for them to get past without a "Good Morning" from me. Hugs were often returned by these little people. Well, at least the K-5. Of course the middle-schoolers were too cool for this.
My motives were not entirely selfless or altruistic. I admit I received some benefit. There is nothing like knowing you made a difference in someone's life, even for 10 seconds. I also was able to become intimately familiar with the other students and adults that would part of my son's life 7 hours a day, five days a week, 9 months of the year. He could check in with me throughout the day and I could be aware of tricky situations he may be dealing with and talk about them with him. He has not been to a day of school in his life without me. (Yes, widowhood magnifies some interesting control issues in me.) I have always been at that intersection for him as well.
Fast forward to today, the first day of school for our community.
Today is the first day I will not be at that crossroads.
Despite my son's encouragement to "Just drop me off, Mom" twice, I went in with him to get him settled into his classroom. I knew the teacher, I was intimate with the classroom. I spent every day there last year doing social skills, music, or just pre-intervention. I just had to see him get into that room and get going. As I was walking down the hallway, I was greeted everywhere by kids and bombarded at times with hugs.
"How was your summer?"
"Who is your teacher?"
In hindsight, I realized those were not just questions to be polite and make conversation. My counselor mind was putting it all together, making sure these kids would be ok for the next year and looking at possible challenges. All within the 30 seconds of our interaction before they saw another friend they hadn't seen all summer, which is actually equivilant to "forever" if you're a second-grader. Immediately I am drawn to obviously new kindergarten kids who are clutching tightly to a big sister or brother's hand while rubbing the tears from the eye with the other. I want to swoop in and help them with their transition and take the time to help them understand that it is scary, but they will make it through. Occasionally a child would ask "So, I'm still coming in on Mondays, right?" or "Are we going to do that group again on Thursdays?". I had to tell them that another lucky counselor would be doing those things with them because I would not be there this year, at times fighting back my own tears and I saw a micro-expression of terror come into their face. Unfortunately, I could not introduce the new counselor to help them make that transition, because there is no new counselor.
Although I had resigned my position before a change was made, the position of K-8 counselor had been reassessed from a 4-day-a-week need to a 1-day-a-week need for the children. Budget cuts was the reason I was given. (I will not rant in this posting of the plethora or assistant coaches they pay for a team of no more than 20 people that could have been cut instead of the professional advocate responsible for the psychosocial education of these 420 students. You will have to wait for that one:) And amazingly enough, they could not find a professional who was willing to drive out to rural Idaho one day a week to help these children. In my mind, that translates to "There will be no one there to take care of the kids."
Now, I hope that all my teacher-minded friends don't get their panties in a bunch (or boxers as the case may be). I am completely aware of the kind, compassionate nature of most teachers. I know that it can be a thankless job. As a teacher, you are now subject to 30-60 critics of your work as you deal with the parents of the children entrusted to your care. I also know the incredible pressures teachers have of being the one person responsible to insure each child in your care gets the education that is expected. And that is not easy. Teachers can be stressed. Teachers have bad days. And teachers can't be everything to everyone. That is why counselors were invented. And that is why I chose to be one.
That is why I want to be at the crossroads.
I almost ran to the office and told them I would come back and volunteer all the time that they couldn't pay, just to fill the need in the kids hearts as well as mine. But I couldn't. I made a different choice. A choice that was Divinely directed. And so I am not there this year. And that is why I am praying that the teachers of our community school, and schools everywhere, be given an added measure of compassion, and extra dose of patience, and the power of discernment to see into the eyes and hearts of these little people. I am praying that they might understand that they stand at important crossroads of these little one's lives and they might remember what matters most.
Won't you please join me in this prayer.
My motives were not entirely selfless or altruistic. I admit I received some benefit. There is nothing like knowing you made a difference in someone's life, even for 10 seconds. I also was able to become intimately familiar with the other students and adults that would part of my son's life 7 hours a day, five days a week, 9 months of the year. He could check in with me throughout the day and I could be aware of tricky situations he may be dealing with and talk about them with him. He has not been to a day of school in his life without me. (Yes, widowhood magnifies some interesting control issues in me.) I have always been at that intersection for him as well.
Fast forward to today, the first day of school for our community.
Today is the first day I will not be at that crossroads.
Despite my son's encouragement to "Just drop me off, Mom" twice, I went in with him to get him settled into his classroom. I knew the teacher, I was intimate with the classroom. I spent every day there last year doing social skills, music, or just pre-intervention. I just had to see him get into that room and get going. As I was walking down the hallway, I was greeted everywhere by kids and bombarded at times with hugs.
"How was your summer?"
"Who is your teacher?"
In hindsight, I realized those were not just questions to be polite and make conversation. My counselor mind was putting it all together, making sure these kids would be ok for the next year and looking at possible challenges. All within the 30 seconds of our interaction before they saw another friend they hadn't seen all summer, which is actually equivilant to "forever" if you're a second-grader. Immediately I am drawn to obviously new kindergarten kids who are clutching tightly to a big sister or brother's hand while rubbing the tears from the eye with the other. I want to swoop in and help them with their transition and take the time to help them understand that it is scary, but they will make it through. Occasionally a child would ask "So, I'm still coming in on Mondays, right?" or "Are we going to do that group again on Thursdays?". I had to tell them that another lucky counselor would be doing those things with them because I would not be there this year, at times fighting back my own tears and I saw a micro-expression of terror come into their face. Unfortunately, I could not introduce the new counselor to help them make that transition, because there is no new counselor.
Although I had resigned my position before a change was made, the position of K-8 counselor had been reassessed from a 4-day-a-week need to a 1-day-a-week need for the children. Budget cuts was the reason I was given. (I will not rant in this posting of the plethora or assistant coaches they pay for a team of no more than 20 people that could have been cut instead of the professional advocate responsible for the psychosocial education of these 420 students. You will have to wait for that one:) And amazingly enough, they could not find a professional who was willing to drive out to rural Idaho one day a week to help these children. In my mind, that translates to "There will be no one there to take care of the kids."
Now, I hope that all my teacher-minded friends don't get their panties in a bunch (or boxers as the case may be). I am completely aware of the kind, compassionate nature of most teachers. I know that it can be a thankless job. As a teacher, you are now subject to 30-60 critics of your work as you deal with the parents of the children entrusted to your care. I also know the incredible pressures teachers have of being the one person responsible to insure each child in your care gets the education that is expected. And that is not easy. Teachers can be stressed. Teachers have bad days. And teachers can't be everything to everyone. That is why counselors were invented. And that is why I chose to be one.
That is why I want to be at the crossroads.
I almost ran to the office and told them I would come back and volunteer all the time that they couldn't pay, just to fill the need in the kids hearts as well as mine. But I couldn't. I made a different choice. A choice that was Divinely directed. And so I am not there this year. And that is why I am praying that the teachers of our community school, and schools everywhere, be given an added measure of compassion, and extra dose of patience, and the power of discernment to see into the eyes and hearts of these little people. I am praying that they might understand that they stand at important crossroads of these little one's lives and they might remember what matters most.
Won't you please join me in this prayer.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Welcome!
I am a chocolate snob. I enjoy the finer things in life. Like good chocolate. And the darker, the better. I turn my nose up at Palmers, I reject chocolate that comes out of the bulk bins, and PLEASE get those Tootsie Rolls out of my face.
Please don't misunderstand. There is no judgment on you for eating those things.You have my sympathy and pity that your taste buds have not evolved.
My parents always told me if you're going to do something, do it right the first time. So the way I see it is if you are going to eat chocolate, you had better make it count!
I have not always been a chocolate snob. For years I was repressed, unable to indulge in any chocolate except for the semi-sweet chocolate chips that were brought to the store and placed in the cupboard for maybe two hours before they found their way into soft, gooey dough and thrust into the oven. Then there were the bi-annual holidays of Easter and Halloween where candy was introduced into the house. The chocolate pieces were always consumed first. (Only now as I have fully embraced my snobbery do I actually throw away any candy that isn't chocolate.)
It was my marriage that brought me to the chocolate.
My father-in-law is a confessed chocoholic and solemnly proclaims that the streets of Heaven are actually paved in chocolate, which is worth a lot more than gold. Wanting to be in good graces with the in-laws, I began to make chocolate this and chocolate that. If nothing else, I was going to make sure I was always invited to family gatherings--even if it was just for my mint-chocolate brownies. I realized it was not only o.k. to enjoy chocolate, it was liberating to confess it! As I began my journey to the dark side (that's dark chocolate of course), I realized two things:
Not all chocolate is created equal.
The only thing better than chocolate, is great chocolate.
I began dabbling into the other chocolates. I stopped buying M&M's because the candy coating really does interfere with the chocolate flavor. I started asking for s'mores without the graham cracker and marshmallow. Twix and Kit-Kat bars were passed over because if I wanted a cookie, I would just buy cookies! My chocolate chip cookies evolved from semi-sweet chips to eventually Quadruple Chocolate Chip Cookies as the cookies is chocolate with three kinds of chips.(And just who is the genius that invented Dark chocolate chips?? I love that man!!) I also began rejecting anything but the good chocolate. It wasn't until I passed up the candy dish at work and my boss proclaimed "You're a chocolate snob!" that I realized the truth.
I was.
And I never heard truer words than that.
I also realized that my life has become somewhat like my chocolate indulgence. I realized that I do not want my life to be mediocre. I want it to be creamy, like my velvet chocolate mousse pie. And occasionally I want it to be amazingly rich, like my Chocolate Pots de Creme. (Interestingly this is one recipe that I have not made for anyone else--just my own private indulgence;) However, as a single, working mom, mediocre and routine is easy to come by. I try to find the little piece of Ferrero Rocher in these days of mediocrity. That is what this blog is about.
So I embrace my chocolate side and do so without passing judgment on those who do not. I realize that there must needs be opposition in all things.
Just pass hand over the smooth, dark truffles and no one will get hurt.
Please don't misunderstand. There is no judgment on you for eating those things.You have my sympathy and pity that your taste buds have not evolved.
My parents always told me if you're going to do something, do it right the first time. So the way I see it is if you are going to eat chocolate, you had better make it count!
I have not always been a chocolate snob. For years I was repressed, unable to indulge in any chocolate except for the semi-sweet chocolate chips that were brought to the store and placed in the cupboard for maybe two hours before they found their way into soft, gooey dough and thrust into the oven. Then there were the bi-annual holidays of Easter and Halloween where candy was introduced into the house. The chocolate pieces were always consumed first. (Only now as I have fully embraced my snobbery do I actually throw away any candy that isn't chocolate.)
It was my marriage that brought me to the chocolate.
My father-in-law is a confessed chocoholic and solemnly proclaims that the streets of Heaven are actually paved in chocolate, which is worth a lot more than gold. Wanting to be in good graces with the in-laws, I began to make chocolate this and chocolate that. If nothing else, I was going to make sure I was always invited to family gatherings--even if it was just for my mint-chocolate brownies. I realized it was not only o.k. to enjoy chocolate, it was liberating to confess it! As I began my journey to the dark side (that's dark chocolate of course), I realized two things:
Not all chocolate is created equal.
The only thing better than chocolate, is great chocolate.
I began dabbling into the other chocolates. I stopped buying M&M's because the candy coating really does interfere with the chocolate flavor. I started asking for s'mores without the graham cracker and marshmallow. Twix and Kit-Kat bars were passed over because if I wanted a cookie, I would just buy cookies! My chocolate chip cookies evolved from semi-sweet chips to eventually Quadruple Chocolate Chip Cookies as the cookies is chocolate with three kinds of chips.(And just who is the genius that invented Dark chocolate chips?? I love that man!!) I also began rejecting anything but the good chocolate. It wasn't until I passed up the candy dish at work and my boss proclaimed "You're a chocolate snob!" that I realized the truth.
I was.
And I never heard truer words than that.
I also realized that my life has become somewhat like my chocolate indulgence. I realized that I do not want my life to be mediocre. I want it to be creamy, like my velvet chocolate mousse pie. And occasionally I want it to be amazingly rich, like my Chocolate Pots de Creme. (Interestingly this is one recipe that I have not made for anyone else--just my own private indulgence;) However, as a single, working mom, mediocre and routine is easy to come by. I try to find the little piece of Ferrero Rocher in these days of mediocrity. That is what this blog is about.
So I embrace my chocolate side and do so without passing judgment on those who do not. I realize that there must needs be opposition in all things.
Just pass hand over the smooth, dark truffles and no one will get hurt.
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