So it's been a while. Life is busy and this year I promised I would slow down a bit and do things that are just for me. One of those things is blogging. It helps me to put my thoughts out there to the universe using the web in the hopes that maybe someone reading it can relate. I read a lot of blogs and sometimes I come across something that helps me in tremendous ways. It also allows me to vent and to write, both of which help me to deal. Here's what is on my mind today...
My Granny B went home (Heaven) two years ago this month. Her physical absence from my life hurts so much sometimes that I'm just not sure I'll survive. She was the matriarch of our family. She was my second mom. She was the person who kept me informed about what was going on in my extended families lives. She was the person I called to ask about a recipe. She was an avid reader just like me and when she would call she always asked what I was reading. And really this list could go on forever...
Ever since her death she visits me in my dreams occasionally. We are usually sitting in her living room. She sits in her chair and I sit in Papa J's chair. When I look to my right I can see the hallway that led to the bedrooms. When I look to my left I can see the lamp sitting on the end table that separated the chairs. I can see the TV Guide, her tissues and her people magazine. She holds my hand and I can feel her thin skin and see her perfectly manicured fingernails. We don't speak to each other but just sit in silence and hold hands. I can literally feel her hands. When I wake up I am usually on the verge of tears. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep. Sometimes I can't even cry. But I always thank Jesus for allowing the visit. Even if it's always very brief. Those dreams comfort me and I truly believe that Granny visits me because she knows I need her to.
I imagine this grief that I feel prepares me for what will eventually come. While I cannot imagine life without my parents, my siblings, my husband or my kids, I know that we are exactly what God said we are..."but a vapour." While I long for Heaven and pray for Jesus to come quickly, living without those we love hurts....for real.
I really love getting older mostly because of the wisdom and selflessness it brings but sometimes it also sucks. As much as I miss my Granny, I cannot fathom how much my dad misses his momma. This will someday be my reality to face. I just hope and pray that they visit me in my dreams too.
So here's to dreamin' for real...feelin' for real and "real"izing that each moment with those you love is a gift...make it count people!
Jules
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Camping trip...
Recently my four year old son asked me if we could go camping and sleep in a tent. My initial thought was "sure honey we can put a tent up in the backyard and you can sleep in it!" Then I realized that I have never slept in a tent or been camping. Then I thought about the things I didn't experience as a child. For example I never had eaten vienna sausages until I was an adult. When I had my wisdom teeth extracted I got "dry socket" and was extremely sick. All I could eat was soft food and my mom came over to my house and brought vienna sausages. I happen to love everything salty and when I ate the vienna sausages I became upset with my mom because she never fed them to me as a child. I just couldn't believe I missed out on the salty goodness for 28 years of my life! My mom was baffled and thought she had done me a favor by not feeding me something she obviously grew up eating and promised herself she would never feed her children! I've since forgiven my mom but now that I am the mom I am determined that my kids get to experience things that just maybe as an adult, I don't necessarily want to do. I've never been camping and have never slept in a tent. Do I want to sleep in a tent? Not necessarily. Do I want to eat smores by the campfire? Yes! Do I want to get poison ivy? No. Do I want to experience something new with my children? Absolutely! So this weekend while my kids are on Spring Break we are going camping. We are going to sleep in a tent. We may even eat vienna sausages. And inevitably my kids will grow up, have children and decide that they will never make their children go on camping trips and eat MRE's when all they wanted to do was sleep in a tent...
Any advice, tips or prayers for this first time tent camper is greatly appreciated...
Wish me luck...
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Thirty something...
Throughout my life I've been somewhat of an overachiever. As the oldest my of siblings, I have always felt the need to always be the example in many ways. If I didn't feel like I lived up to that example I was very hard on myself. When I made mistakes in my life I would internally have a pity party for myself, while on the outside I would remain the same. My parents and my siblings never set expectations for me. They only loved me for who I was, in that very moment. Sure they were disappointed in me at times but just like my heavenly father, they loved me despite my failings and actually embraced me more because of them. I feel extremely lucky to have had this for my life.
But despite having these wonderful people around me daily I always wanted to reach higher. I consider myself fairly intelligent, although if you know me well and are reading this you know I have my moments where common sense isn't so apparent, but I've always had to work hard for everything. In school I had to study very hard to make B's and C's but I graduated college, twice. In my job I've had to take risks but I climbed the ladder. In my relationships I've had to love with all my heart but I have good relationships. If life threw me a curve ball then I only had to work harder or love more and eventually I could achieve what it was that I thought I needed to be. This was the primary way I lived my life for the first thirty years or so with much disappointment and a secret constant need for approval.
Then I turned thirty. I found myself content for the first time. I had two children and a husband that loved me dearly for who I was, in that very moment. I make daily mistakes trying to be the best parent and wife that I can be but even through the mistakes I still feel good enough and no more pity parties. In my job I now find that my satisfaction doesn't come from being the leader but of connecting with my co-workers and my community and learning from them how I could be better and make my community better. I now feel like I don't have to reach higher to be an example. The example has done a switcheroo. I looked at my children and their childlike faith and better understood the meaning of God's Grace. Something I had studied for years that always baffled my mind and my heart. Really, how could God love me as much as I loved him? But then I had children. As a parent, it was suddenly more clear. And I realized that my example had been there all along. That I claimed with my lips that I followed Jesus but actually I was following myself or what I thought I had to be.
So now I am thirty-something and I no longer have a yearning to be the example...I no longer yearn to reach higher. I feel free to make mistakes, accept the fact that I made them, say I'm sorry, ask forgiveness and know that it will happen again. I've learned that in relationships love has to replace expectations. That everyone has somehow been broken and no amount of earthly love can fix it but love them anyway. That everyone just wants to know that they matter. I know this because instead of being fearful that I'm somehow not good enough, God has shown me that I am. That actually I'm being very self absorbed when I don't accept this truth. I recently read a book by Brennan Manning call The Ragamuffin Gospel. In the book, there is a chapter called "The Second Call". It was almost as if Brennan was talking directly to me to explain the things I had been feeling...
Many people between the ages of thirty and sixty , whatever their stature in the community and whatever their personal achievements, undergo what can truly be called a second journey.
A man can have piled up an impressive portfolio of dollars and honors, get his name in the Who's Who, and then wake up one morning asking, "Is it all worth it?" Competent teachers, nurses and clergy can reach the top only to discover that the job no longer fascinates; there is nowhere higher to go. They find themselves terrified of stagnation and asking, "Should I switch careers? Would returning to work help?"
Gail Sheehy's second journey began at thirty five when she was covering a story in northern Ireland. She was standing next to a young man when a bullet blew off his face. On that bloody Sunday in Londonerry, she felt herself confronted with death and with what she called "the arithmetic of life." She suddenly realized, "No one is with me. No one keeps me safe. There is no one who won't ever leave me alone." Bloody Sunday threw Gail Sheehy off balance and flung at her a barrage of painful questions about her ultimate purpose and values.
It need not be a bullet that initiates a second journey. A thirty five year old wife learns of her husbands infidelity. A forty year old company director finds that making money seems absurd. A forty five year old journalist gets smashed up in a car accident. However it happens, such people feel confused and even lost. They can no longer keep life in working order. They are dragged away from chosen and cherished patterns to face strange crisis. This is their second journey.
Second journeys usually end quietly with a new wisdom and a coming to a true sense of self that releases great power. The wisdom is that of an adult who has regained equilibrium, stabilized, and found fresh purpose and new dreams. It is a wisdom that gives some things up, lets some things die, and accepts human limitations. It is a wisdom that realizes: I cannot expect anyone to understand me fully. It is wisdom that admits the inevitability of old age and death. It is a wisdom that has faced the pain caused by parents, spouse, family, friends, colleagues, business associates, and has truly forgiven them and acknowledged with unexpected compassion that these people are neither angels nor devils, but only human.
So do yourself a favor. Release yourself and be free. Free to make mistakes...free to run and fall down...free to love with a capacity that you've never known...free to believe that you matter, and so does everyone else! Freedom is a gift that we really didn't deserve but something that God gave to us anyway. Accept it now.
I am a thirty five year old who no longer yearns to over achieve. I am good enough just the way God made me. This is my second journey. Let the wisdom begin...
But despite having these wonderful people around me daily I always wanted to reach higher. I consider myself fairly intelligent, although if you know me well and are reading this you know I have my moments where common sense isn't so apparent, but I've always had to work hard for everything. In school I had to study very hard to make B's and C's but I graduated college, twice. In my job I've had to take risks but I climbed the ladder. In my relationships I've had to love with all my heart but I have good relationships. If life threw me a curve ball then I only had to work harder or love more and eventually I could achieve what it was that I thought I needed to be. This was the primary way I lived my life for the first thirty years or so with much disappointment and a secret constant need for approval.
Then I turned thirty. I found myself content for the first time. I had two children and a husband that loved me dearly for who I was, in that very moment. I make daily mistakes trying to be the best parent and wife that I can be but even through the mistakes I still feel good enough and no more pity parties. In my job I now find that my satisfaction doesn't come from being the leader but of connecting with my co-workers and my community and learning from them how I could be better and make my community better. I now feel like I don't have to reach higher to be an example. The example has done a switcheroo. I looked at my children and their childlike faith and better understood the meaning of God's Grace. Something I had studied for years that always baffled my mind and my heart. Really, how could God love me as much as I loved him? But then I had children. As a parent, it was suddenly more clear. And I realized that my example had been there all along. That I claimed with my lips that I followed Jesus but actually I was following myself or what I thought I had to be.
So now I am thirty-something and I no longer have a yearning to be the example...I no longer yearn to reach higher. I feel free to make mistakes, accept the fact that I made them, say I'm sorry, ask forgiveness and know that it will happen again. I've learned that in relationships love has to replace expectations. That everyone has somehow been broken and no amount of earthly love can fix it but love them anyway. That everyone just wants to know that they matter. I know this because instead of being fearful that I'm somehow not good enough, God has shown me that I am. That actually I'm being very self absorbed when I don't accept this truth. I recently read a book by Brennan Manning call The Ragamuffin Gospel. In the book, there is a chapter called "The Second Call". It was almost as if Brennan was talking directly to me to explain the things I had been feeling...
Many people between the ages of thirty and sixty , whatever their stature in the community and whatever their personal achievements, undergo what can truly be called a second journey.
A man can have piled up an impressive portfolio of dollars and honors, get his name in the Who's Who, and then wake up one morning asking, "Is it all worth it?" Competent teachers, nurses and clergy can reach the top only to discover that the job no longer fascinates; there is nowhere higher to go. They find themselves terrified of stagnation and asking, "Should I switch careers? Would returning to work help?"
Gail Sheehy's second journey began at thirty five when she was covering a story in northern Ireland. She was standing next to a young man when a bullet blew off his face. On that bloody Sunday in Londonerry, she felt herself confronted with death and with what she called "the arithmetic of life." She suddenly realized, "No one is with me. No one keeps me safe. There is no one who won't ever leave me alone." Bloody Sunday threw Gail Sheehy off balance and flung at her a barrage of painful questions about her ultimate purpose and values.
It need not be a bullet that initiates a second journey. A thirty five year old wife learns of her husbands infidelity. A forty year old company director finds that making money seems absurd. A forty five year old journalist gets smashed up in a car accident. However it happens, such people feel confused and even lost. They can no longer keep life in working order. They are dragged away from chosen and cherished patterns to face strange crisis. This is their second journey.
Second journeys usually end quietly with a new wisdom and a coming to a true sense of self that releases great power. The wisdom is that of an adult who has regained equilibrium, stabilized, and found fresh purpose and new dreams. It is a wisdom that gives some things up, lets some things die, and accepts human limitations. It is a wisdom that realizes: I cannot expect anyone to understand me fully. It is wisdom that admits the inevitability of old age and death. It is a wisdom that has faced the pain caused by parents, spouse, family, friends, colleagues, business associates, and has truly forgiven them and acknowledged with unexpected compassion that these people are neither angels nor devils, but only human.
So do yourself a favor. Release yourself and be free. Free to make mistakes...free to run and fall down...free to love with a capacity that you've never known...free to believe that you matter, and so does everyone else! Freedom is a gift that we really didn't deserve but something that God gave to us anyway. Accept it now.
I am a thirty five year old who no longer yearns to over achieve. I am good enough just the way God made me. This is my second journey. Let the wisdom begin...
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Cleaning of the fish...
Yesterday my DH informed me he was going fishing for the day. It's the first of January here in Oklahoma and really really cold. DH loves to fish, obviously. I think he is crazy because not only is it cold while standing, imagine how cold it is while riding down the lake in a bass boat at 70 mph? Insane I tell you! But I love the fact that he has a hobby that he loves and the perk of being married to a fisherman means we get to eat fresh fish all year long! Yay for freshly fried fish in a cast iron skillet! So I instructed him (just part of my wifely job people) to bring some home for us to eat this week. He came home with ten fish to fillet. He also caught a whopper Bass yesterday! Here is a pic of my sexy man and the bass...this was thrown back...no eatin' these trophy fishies!
Usually the filleting or "cleaning" of the fish is done outside but because it was so cold I told DH he could do it in the house. He started in cleaning the fish and I told him I wanted to learn and clean an entire fish all by myself. I've seen people clean fish my entire life. Some of my most favorite memories are of my Papa J cleaning catfish we would catch during the Summer. But I never really watched with the intent of learning and never asked if I could try. I think a lot of this happens today with our children. We assume they wouldn't be interested, when in fact they are craving to learn these most basic things. I wished I would had asked my Papa J to show me how to clean a fish...I wish I would had asked my Nannie P to show me how to crochet. I did learn to grow things from my Papa J and I learned to cook from my Mom and my Granny B but there are so many things that I didn't learn and now are lost, frankly because I didn't ask. One of my New Year's resolutions is to learn more of these things and to ask my friends and family to teach me, tell me stories of how they learned and listen with all my heart. I want to learn to preserve food (canning, drying, etc.) and to sew (all I can do is sew on a button). My Granny F knows how to do these things and I am going to ask her to show me. Hopefully she will oblige. I'm certain she will because she loves me ;) Also I am going to be better about teaching my kids these important things, even if they don't ask. I have this fear that my kids will learn nothing and grow up to depend on other people to feed them. And what scares me even more is that it probably would be me! Don't get me wrong, I adore my kids and I love to cook and feed them but someday I want them to grow up...move out and feed themselves! I know you must be thinking how awful that sounds but I do want them to be self sufficient someday. I do not want them living with me when they are forty! I especially want my DS to learn how to cook, clean and even sew. I would be doing my future DIL a huge favor. Your welcome future DIL!
So here is a video of how to clean a bass. This is basically how my DH showed me. I am happy to report that I successfully cleaned my very first fish. Here are a few things I thought were important while doing this...
Tonight when I coat these babies in cornmeal and fry them up I will feel good that my sexy boyscout...aka my DH caught these fish with his bare hands...I mean his fishin' pole. I will feel good that DH and I both cleaned them ourselves and my kids watched us and knew that the fish died for their meal (I'm hoping they will appreciate it more and not be so wasteful). As the "Executive Chef" of the Kimble Ponderosa, I will take special care to cook them well and when my family and I eat them, they will taste extra special because they are fresh, they were handled and cooked with care. I will feel good because I didn't buy these at the grocery store...that they weren't frozen and shipped from God knows where and as soon as my kids can handle knives I will show them how to do it themselves!
Thank you sweet fishies for my dinner tonight...your death was not in vain...
Jules
So here is a video of how to clean a bass. This is basically how my DH showed me. I am happy to report that I successfully cleaned my very first fish. Here are a few things I thought were important while doing this...
- Use a very sharp knife (ours need to be sharpened in a bad way)
- Get your fingers and hand out of the way (there is enough blood from the fish...your own blood is not needed)
- Don't drink too much beer before you do this (sharp knives and beer might not be a super great thing but this beer is a super great thing. It's my new favorite beer...sorry that's a little random)
- If your fish is still alive while you do this you may feel bad during the process but on the other hand killing your fish beforehand will make you feel equally as bad. The point is just make sure you have a good hold on your fish while you clean it and try not to feel bad about killing it
Tonight when I coat these babies in cornmeal and fry them up I will feel good that my sexy boyscout...aka my DH caught these fish with his bare hands...I mean his fishin' pole. I will feel good that DH and I both cleaned them ourselves and my kids watched us and knew that the fish died for their meal (I'm hoping they will appreciate it more and not be so wasteful). As the "Executive Chef" of the Kimble Ponderosa, I will take special care to cook them well and when my family and I eat them, they will taste extra special because they are fresh, they were handled and cooked with care. I will feel good because I didn't buy these at the grocery store...that they weren't frozen and shipped from God knows where and as soon as my kids can handle knives I will show them how to do it themselves!
Thank you sweet fishies for my dinner tonight...your death was not in vain...
Jules
Friday, December 30, 2011
Mushroom Pasta...
Today I got a craving for mushrooms and for pasta. Usually I get cravings on my 5:00pm drive home from work. This is usually my time to get out of "work mode" before I get home to my family to finish job #2 of feeding and spending time with the ones I love most, my family. Usually as I am thinking, praying or jamming out to some good tunes I get hungry and thus the cravings begin. When this happens I am usually in the middle of no where. The town where I work has an excellent grocery store with a wide selection of foods to choose from. There I would have a wide selection of mushrooms. Porcini? Shitake? Crimini? Take your pick or choose all of them!
In the small town I live in we have several grocery stores and the one that is closest to my house only has button mushrooms but they will have to do. I really wish my cravings would begin around 4:00pm so I could go to the grocery store with more variety but it never works out that way. Also, I suppose it would be nice if I knew where to go for mushroom hunting. In my area there are many mushrooms that grow wild and can be gathered. The ones I am most familiar with are "wisi" and "morels". Actually I think fancy restaurants serve morels so they probably can be grown as well. Anyway someday I will venture out, keep it real and hunt for some mushrooms. And hopefully I find morels and I will make this pasta again and it will taste even better! Of course they aren't in season right now but I am betting you can freeze them. When I was younger my mom had a friend that would always give her morels and they were the most delicious things you have ever eaten. You can buy wisi at the local farmer's market but the morels are a different story. If you know where they grow you aren't telling and you only get morels given to you if you are an awesome friend or you have something to trade for. Mom used to trade our farm fresh eggs for these mushrooms. I do have a good friend that knows where they grow. I think someday she will take me, although a blindfold of some sort may be involved.
So tonight I needed a quick and dirty mushroom pasta. My DH cannot fathom why I wouldn't put meat in pasta but I am really don't eat meat that often. What I mean by that is I probably only eat red meat once during the week. I live in small town Oklahoma so only eating meat once a week is really not that often. Actually it's downright weird! Anyway so here's how my mushroom pasta went down.
In the small town I live in we have several grocery stores and the one that is closest to my house only has button mushrooms but they will have to do. I really wish my cravings would begin around 4:00pm so I could go to the grocery store with more variety but it never works out that way. Also, I suppose it would be nice if I knew where to go for mushroom hunting. In my area there are many mushrooms that grow wild and can be gathered. The ones I am most familiar with are "wisi" and "morels". Actually I think fancy restaurants serve morels so they probably can be grown as well. Anyway someday I will venture out, keep it real and hunt for some mushrooms. And hopefully I find morels and I will make this pasta again and it will taste even better! Of course they aren't in season right now but I am betting you can freeze them. When I was younger my mom had a friend that would always give her morels and they were the most delicious things you have ever eaten. You can buy wisi at the local farmer's market but the morels are a different story. If you know where they grow you aren't telling and you only get morels given to you if you are an awesome friend or you have something to trade for. Mom used to trade our farm fresh eggs for these mushrooms. I do have a good friend that knows where they grow. I think someday she will take me, although a blindfold of some sort may be involved.
So tonight I needed a quick and dirty mushroom pasta. My DH cannot fathom why I wouldn't put meat in pasta but I am really don't eat meat that often. What I mean by that is I probably only eat red meat once during the week. I live in small town Oklahoma so only eating meat once a week is really not that often. Actually it's downright weird! Anyway so here's how my mushroom pasta went down.
Boil some water. Put the lid on it so it will come up to a boil much quicker...salt the water and add whatever type of dry pasta you prefer...I perfer thin spaghetti. Boil for 8-10 minutes...
While the pasta is cooking...chop up about a pound of mushrooms...oh and be sure to take plenty of red wine breaks while chopping...
Put some extra virgin olive oil in a medium skillet on medium high heat and add mushrooms. Cook for 5 minutes or so. Mince 3 large garlic cloves, or less if you don't like garlic but I love garlic. Serioulsy roasted garlic and fried bacon are gifts from God! Eat it! Anyway, add the garlic to the mushrooms and cook until fragrant...
Add small container of half & half...a couple of teaspoons of lemon juice and a little flour to thicken...turn heat to low and cook until cream is the consistency that you prefer...
Add cooked spaghetti...
Add some chopped parsley...
Mix and combine. Here I would also add some parmesan cheese but my small grocery store doesn't sell the good stuff and I couldn't bear to buy the sprinkled stuff for pizza. It just doesn't taste the same...
This pasta is quick and easy. Only took 15-20 minutes from start to finish and it was delicious! But let's keep it real...if sipping of wine isn't involved this really could be a ten minute meal! On the agenda for tomorrow, I'll be running 6 miles and this carb heavy meal is sure to give me some pep in my step...
Happy Friday!
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Real cheese is not always orange...
I really love cheese. All kinds but my favorite is extra sharp cheddar. It's my 10:00am snack of choice, paired with some wheat thins. As usual, I do my grocery shopping for work at the beginning of the week. I eat every two hours so at work I MUST have groceries or I become the co-worker that eats every one's food and let's be honest, nobody likes that person. While looking for some extra sharp cheddar I notice there is a particular brand that is made from grass fed cows. Surprisingly it isn't that expensive so I buy it. Now I've had the pleasure of eating many different types of cheese. Feta, brie and goat cheese usually are white. Cheddar, colby jack and velveeta is usually an orange color. So as you can imagine when I opened my grass fed cow sharp cheddar cheese in my office today (it had a black wrapping) it wasn't orange! I kinda freaked out a little because I was really craving a nice sharp (orange) cheddar but I went ahead and tried it. It was the most delicious sharp cheddar I had ever eaten! It was so sharp and smooth that I only ate a small amount because that's all I needed to get my fix. So I decided to do some research on orange cheese. Why is it orange? Obviously I realize that velveeta is in many ways fake cheese but it's so good I just accept it and move on. But I've never considered my sharp cheddar...and the fact that it is orange.
The dying of the cheese started long ago in England. Milk from grass fed cows has a higher level of beta carotene in the Spring and Summer and in the Winter the milk has less beta carotene so the color varies throughout the year. The dye they use for the orange cheese is called "annatto" which is made from the seeds of a specific tree. So I suppose that is still considered "natural" but it bothers me that people that sell cheese assume I would find orange cheese more appealing than cheese in it's more natural state. Also, why haven't I considered this before? This just reaffirms my belief that I am a product of a world that wants me to be dependant upon it. Why else would I have a mini freak out when I discover my cheese really isn't orange?
And really why do I care if my cheese is orange? Well I've been eating a lot of deer meat lately that was killed by my cousin and combine that with the fact that I just read the first Hunger Games book and got this cookbook for Christmas, I've decided to care. So now I have nightmares of being left in a world where the government rations food and I must rely on my own self for my sustenance. Wasn't this how the world once was? When my Great Grandmother was little did she eat orange cheese? Probably not. Guess I need to take a hunter's safety course...pray for a good Oklahoma growing season in 2012 and learn how to make cheese? I suppose I should find a cow first...or just find someone local to buy it from.
Someday when my dh and I retire (a short 30 or so years from now), we plan on traveling the world and eating many different types of food from other places. I'm really looking forward to all the cheese I'm going to eat. I imagine the cheese I will eat will be smooth, crumbly, stinky and delicious but hopefully not orange.
Yes, I realize that I should know that cheese isn't naturally orange and maybe I always have known this...I just didn't care? Didn't question it? Just ate it because it's what is readily available? Not sure but I think the older I get, the more I question things in life. It's a good thing...
The dying of the cheese started long ago in England. Milk from grass fed cows has a higher level of beta carotene in the Spring and Summer and in the Winter the milk has less beta carotene so the color varies throughout the year. The dye they use for the orange cheese is called "annatto" which is made from the seeds of a specific tree. So I suppose that is still considered "natural" but it bothers me that people that sell cheese assume I would find orange cheese more appealing than cheese in it's more natural state. Also, why haven't I considered this before? This just reaffirms my belief that I am a product of a world that wants me to be dependant upon it. Why else would I have a mini freak out when I discover my cheese really isn't orange?
And really why do I care if my cheese is orange? Well I've been eating a lot of deer meat lately that was killed by my cousin and combine that with the fact that I just read the first Hunger Games book and got this cookbook for Christmas, I've decided to care. So now I have nightmares of being left in a world where the government rations food and I must rely on my own self for my sustenance. Wasn't this how the world once was? When my Great Grandmother was little did she eat orange cheese? Probably not. Guess I need to take a hunter's safety course...pray for a good Oklahoma growing season in 2012 and learn how to make cheese? I suppose I should find a cow first...or just find someone local to buy it from.
Someday when my dh and I retire (a short 30 or so years from now), we plan on traveling the world and eating many different types of food from other places. I'm really looking forward to all the cheese I'm going to eat. I imagine the cheese I will eat will be smooth, crumbly, stinky and delicious but hopefully not orange.
Yes, I realize that I should know that cheese isn't naturally orange and maybe I always have known this...I just didn't care? Didn't question it? Just ate it because it's what is readily available? Not sure but I think the older I get, the more I question things in life. It's a good thing...
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