Blog Etiquette: Let's Talk About the Process

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The Boonies: before the trees budded.

What the heck was I thinking when I named this blog "Wildlife in the Woods"?
 
(I actually know the answer to this question: I was thinking about the wildlife that lives in my woods, and the fact that life can get a little wild from time to time, and there's even more to it than that, but I'm not going to hop any further down that particular bunny trail at this juncture. It was a rhetorical question.)

 I would like to explain to you, however, why I posed the question.

Ursula ponders why I posed this question, chewing thoughtfully.

But in point of fact, I am going to first take you down another bunny trail.

I get my daily dose of reading the blogs of others through my Google Reader. All familiar with a Google Reader, (or another news aggregator site like unto it), raise your hands.

EXPERIENCED BLOG READERS SHOULD SKIP THIS PARAGRAPH. (I'm writing it for my sweet friends who come here to read my stuff because they love me, but they don't know much about blogging.) (Or, experienced bloggers should read the paragraph carefully in order to correct me in my very limited understanding of things.) If you didn't raise your hand in regard to being familiar with the Google Reader, you really should familiarize yourself with it, or with something like it.  Google Reader is a tool that will help you keep track of the blogs you would like to follow. When you click on your Google Reader, you get a handy list of all the blogs you've subscribed to on the left hand side of the screen, and on the right side, is a big box/window that enables you to scroll through all the latest posts. It's a handy, dandy little invention, and with its help,  you don't have to strain your memory to remember to check up on various friend's blogs, nor to remember their individual blog's addresses. Your blog roll is right there waiting for you! (Helpful hint: it's a great idea to check out the recommendations of some of your favorite bloggers. Very often you'll find links to their favorite reads posted right there on their blog's page.Then, you can add to your list of top quality writers whose works you will get to enjoy on a regular basis. What fun!)
I've wandered far off the trail, haven't I?

Let's get back to the question.

Why in the heck did I name this blog "Wild Life in the Woods"??? Why did I not name it AAAA Amazing Wildlife in the Woods?

Because I just want to confess to all my fellow bloggers: by the time I make it past, about the "M"s or "N"s in my list of blog subscriptions with which I try to keep up, I am just flying through some of your blogs.

I am trying now to vary my process a bit and start at the END of the alphabet, to do all my WXYZ friends justice. It's pathetic, always being at the end of the alphabet in school. And now, to do myself in with my own poor choice of a blog title? What a fool I was!!!

So, let's talk about blog etiquette, shall we?
What would you like to sound off about? Have any pet peeves?
What are your thoughts on "comments"? On making them? On receiving them? On having to wait to have your comments approved by others?
Do you often leave comments when you have visited a blog? Why?
Do you rarely leave comments? Why?
What prompts you to leave a comment?
Do you use Google Reader, or something else that you like much better?
What would you like to say about the process of blogging, and reading the blogs of others?

Cool mic picture, taken by the Big Bison.

Sound off! The mic is yours!

Butt Rub and Shamefully Easy and Delicious Coleslaw.

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Here is the promised recipe for Butt Rub, that goes on Boston Butt/Pork Shoulder before you put it on the smoker. My dear husband, the Big Bison, found the recipe on line, and he has no idea where he found it. We altered it, anyway, to suit our own tastes, by using smoked paprika instead of regular paprika, and by cutting the cayenne pepper a bit, so I don't feel too guilty about not having an attribution. The whole time the butt was smoking, the BB would periodically give it a spritz with a bottle of apple juice. So, the end result of about 10 hours of smoking (we were going for an inner temperature of 195º, because that's when the collagen melts) was slightly sweet, spicy and smoky. 

The Big Bison Shredding My Butt

Butt Rub:

 
 Ingredients:
2 T. salt
2 T. sugar
2 T. brown sugar
2 T. ground cumin
2 T. chili powder
2 T. freshly ground black pepper
1 t. cayenne pepper
1/4 c. smoked paprika

I store any leftover rub that I have in a cute little specially marked spice jar in my spice cabinet.


Shamefully Easy and Delicious Coleslaw.
 
Just so you know, I grew up HATING coleslaw. Really hating it. My mother would cut up wedges of cabbage for me, and I would eat that, in lieu of eating coleslaw, but I hated the dressing that was on the coleslaw. I'm still not a fan of your average coleslaw.  

HOWEVER: 

 I first ate this at a party I was attending,  because another guest brought it, and the party hostess/my friend was RAVING about how good it was.
And it's so easy it's almost criminal.
And cabbage is so GOOD for you! Cruciferous vegetable that it is, and all.
And, it's the perfect side dish to make for a cookout, when you either (a) don't feel like cooking but are supposed to take a side dish to a party you're attending, or (b) you're hosting the party, and you're already expending enough of your creative energy on other dishes, but want a fast, easy, and delicious side dish to add to your menu. This goes great with hamburgers, hot dogs, ribs, pork shoulder, or most anything else that you might  happen to be cooking on the grill.

Now, I'm going to give you the fast version, but you can certainly slow it down by food processing your own cabbage, red cabbage and carrots, or whatever veggies you like in your coleslaw. 

You could also slow it down by making your own vinaigrette, (which I like to do) and it tastes even better.  

But here is my shamefully easy version:

1 bag of already shredded coleslaw mix (mine had cabbage, red cabbage and carrots)

1 small bottle of a vinaigrette-type dressing (Newman's Own is a nice one, or Newman's Own Caesar,  but whatever you have on hand - or - even better- make your own vinaigrette - my recipe follows) I don't use the whole bottle - I think in the past I've used about 3/4 of a bottle. Pour on the dressing gradually and mix it till it suits your taste. You can always add more vinaigrette, but you can't take it off once it's on there.)

1/2 package of crumbled feta cheese (so that would be about 2 oz or 1/2 c.)

1/2 c. dry roasted sunflower seeds

Mix and devour.

And it takes two seconds to make. How cool is that?

Homemade Vinaigrette for the Overchievers/Non-Processed Food Lovers among us:

1/4 c. white wine vinegar

1 T. Dijon mustard

coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

pinch of sugar

3/4 c. extra virgin olive oil

2 minced garlic cloves

I dump all this into a jar with a screw top lid that I have that is just the right size, screw on the lid, and then shake the jar like crazy. Leftovers can be stored in the fridge for up to two weeks.

My Butt Smells Good (This Post is Not for the Squeamish)

Pin It There are images involved in this story that may cause those of you who are more squeamish some level of discomfort.

I'm just giving you the heads up now, because I know some people like a little warning. So, click away now if you think maybe you can't handle it.

On the other hand, some of you enjoy a bit of excitement,  and frankly, you don't want a perfectly good story ruined by having me get all spoiler-ish, to protect the weenies among us.  So, for the Non-squeamish among us, I wanted to share with you a real life story from the Boonies, that actually took the last two Saturdays to unfold, in its full glory. And, for the Squeamish: hey, you were warned, and you can't say I didn't give you the option to click away before things got any worse.

Does it concern you that the title of this post has to do with my Butt, and I'm threatening you with pictures that are not for the squeamish?

It should.

And now, on with the story.

Smokin' in the Woods: don't forget to click to fully enjoy the delights of the images in this post. See the uprooted tree's root ball in the background from one of our recent storms?

My dear husband, the Big Bison,  bought a grill that is a smoker as well. He is a bit of a Renaissance man, and loves to try new things, and new hobbies. And for the most part, the hobbies he has chosen have had huge benefits for our family, so I enjoy watching him indulging his interests, and pursuing his passions. After all, so far those hobbies have included hunting (venison, elk, and deer for the freezer, which helps the grocery budget, and wonderful free range, organic meat to serve at our table), coffee bean roasting (I get a daily dose of some of the world's best Joe), and now, he's enjoying using his new smoker. So far, he's experimented with smoking our Thanksgiving turkey, as well as chicken, beef brisket, pork ribs, and pork shoulder roast.

Raw Butt: freshly rubbed, but as yet unsmoked.

The last two Saturdays have been devoted to smoking pork shoulder roast. This is the type of meat they use for pulled pork barbecue sandwiches here in the South. Now, if you go to the supermarket to purchase pork shoulder roast, it is very often labeled Boston Butt (even though the pig's never been anywhere near BeanTown). And that is why, I can say with 100% truthfulness this evening: Gee, my Butt Smells Terrific.

Do you see the face of one of the statues of Easter Island on last Saturday's  Butt? No?

Can you see it now? Picture from here.

Butt, since I've gotten the order of events a little bass-ackwards, here, let me begin at the front end of this story, rather than the tail end of the tale. Last Saturday, the BB (and that would be the Big Bison, and not the Boston Butt) smoked his very first pork shoulder roast. He ran into an obstacle or two. First of all, in the the best case scenario, smoking a pork shoulder is a lengthy process: it can take between 8 and 12 hours. Secondly, last weekend, he did not have optimal circumstances going for him. We believe, in hindsight, as it were, that he made two critical errors last week. One, it was a really chilly day outside, in the 50º's, which makes it harder to maintain a high enough cooking temperature. Two, he used the wrong kind of fuel for smoking: charcoal briquettes, rather than lump hardwood charcoal. Both these factors, combined together, caused the smoking of the Butt to slow down radically, constipating the process, you might say. We didn't eat till 10:00 last Saturday night, which made everyone sad and grumpy, not to mention ravenous. However, the Butt really did taste great!!!

Yesterday's Butt.

This Saturday was different, however.  We had warm weather, (the Big Bison was outside cooking in his bare feet/with unshodden hooves) and the right kind of charcoal, and the smoking process was a smooth move, to continue on with a really regrettable metaphor. That Butt was cooking right along, and everybody was happy. Until....

The Bison decided he wanted to make extra good use of some of his outdoor cooking time by roasting some coffee beans on the little propane burner that we have right there on the patio, near the grill/smoker. He pulled the cover off the burner, and this is what his barefooted self saw less than a foot from his foot.

This is the scary part, kids. Click to check his tonsils, and for a bigger thrill.

Oh, yeah.

Horrifying, is it not?

For the uninitiated, that, my friends, is a very aggressive, very poisonous cottonmouth, showing off exactly why they are called cottonmouths. When they feel threatened, they open wide their mouths, and show you what they got: white on the inside, right where you find their fangs and their venom.

The Bison yelled (because even if he HAD screamed like a girl, I didn't hear him, and he didn't admit it to me) with all his might, and ran inside, and got his heavy hunting boots on, and the tool called a tile scraper. He went back outside and proceeded to fulfill scripture.

I won't tell you specifically which scripture he fulfilled. It might have had something to do with subduing the earth (Genesis 1:28), and it might have been the prophecy that God told to the serpent in the Garden of Eden about how the Man was going to crush the serpent's head (Genesis 3:15) ...or it might have been "Blessed are the peacemakers". I'm not going to tell you which one was fulfilled, because, technically, for some reason, it is illegal in the state of Tennessee to kill a poisonous snake. But no jury would ever convict a man for protecting his own life as well as the life of his wife, kids, and pets from an aggressive poisonous snake on his own patio, right? (Actually, I think there is a clause in that law in regard to there being leeway when someone's life is endangered.)

So, whoa! Some excitement there, huh? My dear son had a long-delayed birthday party last night, and all his 17-19 year old friends were over, and they got to see a bit of the drama, so I think they might have been kind of impressed.  Or, that might have been horror on their sweet young faces. It can be so hard to tell the difference. I guess we'll know next time we extend an invitation to the Boonies, and none of them can make it.

Anyway, I've been telling you guys that I live a wild life in these here woods, and yet, you doubt me. Well, doubt no more my friends!!!

And by the way: my Butt was smokin' hot and ready to be devoured at the lovely hour of 6:00 this time, a much more reasonable hour to be eating dinner,  and was juicy and beautiful and delicious.

Shredding My Butt: Jillian Michaels only dreams of this kind of shred.

And that is the tale of my Butt.

Stay tuned: maybe in an upcoming blog, I'll give you my recipe for Butt Rub, and if you're really nice, I might throw in my absolutely fantastic and Super EASY Coleslaw recipe. I always hated coleslaw till I had this, and now, I can't get enough! It goes great with a barbecue sandwich.

I bet you have dealt with wildlife, in some form or fashion, in your time. What critters have you tangled with?

And then, I rememembered.

Pin It This morning, as my eyes opened, I stretched, and did a little personal physical inventory. I had a bit of a headache, but not too terrible. I continued stretching. "What day is it?" It's Friday. That's why my dear husband, The Big Bison, isn't in the bed, because every Friday morning he gets up and drives into town, in order to be on his knees praying with a bunch of wonderful men on Friday at 5:00 A.M. And then I thought, "Oh, yes, it is Friday, and I get to go to my Fabulous Friday Friends group and..."

And then, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

At this time, around 2000 years ago, while folks like you and I quietly slumbered through the night, God's one and only Son was being drug around the town of Jerusalem, through a series of hastily organized hearings and trials, none of them conducted legally. While I was sleeping, early in the morning, He was being beaten, and sentenced to death. And on this day, almost 2000 years ago, they were slamming a "crown" of thorns onto His head, and nailing His hands and feet to a cross. But what they didn't know, what at that time they couldn't have understood, was that God was going to use their execution of this innocent man to bring many sons to glory.

They thought they were disposing of their "problem", and in truth, were they ever! Because Jesus chose to submit to His Father's plan of redemption, they were doing away with the sin problem of the entire world.

You see, on this particular Friday, I'm meeting with my Fabulous Friday Friends to read scripture, have communion, and remember!




I hope you enjoy the song, but most of all, I hope you'll take a moment to remember, too.

What I should be doing:

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What I should be doing?

WRITING.

I have a potential opportunity to contribute some recipes to a cookbook that Harvest House is talking about putting out, and I've been dragging my feet about actually writing the recipes, because, I am scared of failing.

What else should I be doing?

BLOGGING.

I want to talk about the book I have been reading: The Help.
(But I haven't finished listening to the audio book yet.)



I want to talk about the cake I made that I was inspired to make while listening to that book: Minnie's Caramel Cake.  Heavenly!
(But I ran out of sugar while I was making the cake, had to substitute ingredients, had to use an entirely different recipe for the icing, more of a mock caramel, and the icing seized up early, because I ran out of powdered sugar while I was making THAT recipe. Lesson learned: before you start making Minnie's Caramel Cake, be sure the sugar supply isn't running low!!!)

Here's a teaser picture of the cake with the slightly failed (appearance wise, anyway. The taste was FABULOUS.) caramel frosting version.


What I have been doing?

'Pooting around.

(That's a slang form of the brand new verb that I just made up: which means "to compute")

Sorry for neglecting you.

In the words of Ahnold: "I'll be bahk."

Have you read The Help? What did you think?

Ever had Caramel Cake?




 

Foreign Foods

Pin It So here's what I've noticed:

First off, there are some amazing, AMAZING  writers out there in the blogosphere.

Secondly, many of my favorites don't necessarily speak my cultural language. They don't all have my world view.

Yet, they are as tasty as a recipe that I try from what, to me, is a completely foreign cuisine. I find myself looking forward to reading whatever they have to say, simply because they are exciting, delightful writers.

Little Women everywhere enjoy a Good Read. (from here.)

So, I'd like to invite you (in your comments) to hook me up! And, of course, to hook up all the folks who may click on this post.

Hook me up with a blog that you truly enjoy reading, even though it may (or may not) be outside your comfort zone. Someone whose blog you just look forward to, even though you might not find yourself hand in glove with their world view. (Or, perhaps, you agree with every single word they type.) But you just adore visiting that blog, for whatever the reason.

I don't mind that they might be obscure. I don't care if they're undiscovered. I don't care if they are way too popular for their own good!

What I DO care about is that you hook me (and any other readers who might stumble onto this post) up with folks who, in general, trip your trigger. I would also love it if, in your comments, you would share what it is about this blog that causes you to look forward to their posts.

I am really eager to read your comments, and read your recommendations! So, have at it! All I ask is that you nominate someone whose nomination will in no way benefit you: it's just a recommendation from a devoted reader, for the benefit of other folks who just adore a good read.

I can't do this without giving you my own recommendations, though, can I?

She's not particularly obscure, but I adore my Pearl Girl. Her writing, her sense of humor, make me believe that if we ever met in real life, we'd be fast friends.

I also love the Pioneer Woman (who is not exactly a shrinking violet, but who has wooed me with her self-effacing revelations, and with pictures of her basset hounds, Charlie and Walter).

And here's another: Mandy, of You've Got To Be Kidding Me, because she is a kindred spirit with her wry sense of humor in regard to the ad world, and her passionate love for her children.

I also look forward to many things that Tanis has to say, on her blog,  the Attack of the Redneck Mommy, because even though our lives our very different, our love for our kids is the same.

So, tell me, who do ya love?

The Joy Set Before Him

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When it comes to reading the Bible, in general, I'm an NIV girl. (That's the New International Version, for all you non-jargonized readers. And, by the way, if you are among the non-jargonized, I'm over the moon delighted you're here, reading this. Welcome!) I tend to go for the NIV because it was presented to me when I was younger as a very reliable translation, and so...it's the version I own.

But this morning, I read this chapter of Isaiah in a version of the Bible called The Message. Every once in a while I'll open up this paraphrased version of the Bible, not because it's a particularly good translation, but because sometimes it's a shock to my system (in a good way) to hear scripture put into a more modern choice of words. It comes alive for me in a new way.

So, if you will, please read this chapter in the words of The Message, and maybe you'll see Jesus in a way you haven't seen Him lately. Remember, Isaiah wrote this around 700 years before the Messiah ever showed up. God's plan to reconcile man to himself in a most unlikely way was revealed way back then. In the words of The Message: "Who would've thought God's saving power would look like this?" The Servant that God would send would be rejected by the ones to whom He would be sent. He came to His own, but His own received Him not.

But it was in that rejection, in that suffering, that God's mighty power to save and draw all men to Himself was revealed.

In the words of Charles Wesley: "Amazing love! How can it be that thou, my God, shouldst die for me?"

 ^13-15"Just watch my servant blossom!
   Exalted, tall, head and shoulders above the crowd!
But he didn't begin that way.
   At first everyone was appalled.
He didn't even look human—
   a ruined face, disfigured past recognition.
Nations all over the world will be in awe, taken aback,
   kings shocked into silence when they see him.
For what was unheard of they'll see with their own eyes,
   what was unthinkable they'll have right before them."  ¹ Who believes what we've heard and seen? Who would have thought God's saving power would look like this?

 ^2-6The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
   a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
   nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
   a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
   We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
   our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
   that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
   that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
   Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
   We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
   on him, on him.
 ^7-9He was beaten, he was tortured,
   but he didn't say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
   and like a sheep being sheared,
   he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
   and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
   beaten bloody for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
   threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he'd never hurt a soul
   or said one word that wasn't true.
 ¹⁰Still, it's what God had in mind all along,
   to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
   so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
   And God's plan will deeply prosper through him.
 ^11-12Out of that terrible travail of soul,
   he'll see that it's worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
   will make many "righteous ones,"
   as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I'll reward him extravagantly—
   the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn't flinch,
   because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
   he took up the cause of all the black sheep.  (Isaiah 52:13-53:12, The Message)


I'm that black sheep. And so are you. He took up our cause.

Why? Why would He do that???

I think Hebrews 12:2 gives us a pretty good hint:
"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

What was the joy set before Him? The "righteous ones" that Isaiah mentions: WE were the joy that was set before Him. It was for the love of us, that He did what He did. Even while we were still oblivious to that love. Even while we were still busy shaking our fists in rebellion in His face, and in His Father's face. He saw who we WOULD be. He loved us. He wanted us.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving me, and for taking the punishment that I deserved, and in so doing, making it possible for me to be reconciled with a holy God. Thank you for enduring that suffering, for the joy set before you. Thank you for counting a future with me, with us, as "joy".

Palm Sunday is ahead of us. My wish for us is that we will be drawn closer to Jesus than ever before.

Why We Missed It

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What do you look for in a leader?

Does that question bring an image to your mind?

Maybe an image of a great American president that you have admired? Someone with a keen intellect? Someone who exudes charm, wit, charisma? Someone who's handsome? Someone whose brilliance lights up the room? Who has "it"?

Here's a picture of what scientists and historians now believe is an accurate likeness of George Washington in his youth. They used descriptions of him in his younger years written by those who knew him, portraits, measurements of his clothes, and 3-D software to design this wax statue of George Washington as a young man.

Wasn't he a looker? Click to Super Size him. Image from here.

Historians who conducted further research into Washington's life and physical body type suggest that, as a young man, Washington was a strapping 6ft 3in athlete, with a slim build, gray-blue eyes and flowing auburn hair worn which he probably wore in a ponytail.
Back in the good old days of his youth, he was a square-jawed dentist’s dream, with all his teeth and, as one historian described him, “something of a ladies’ man”.

In America, in general, we like our leaders to have "it", don't we? We want to believe in that handsome man with the likable smile who stands head and shoulders above the rest, who greets others with a direct gaze and a warm, firm handshake - we WANT to believe that man has what it takes to lead and direct our country.

In the Bible study that I've been doing in Isaiah, Isaiah has written several different poetic pieces that describe SOMEONE who is coming. He calls that "someone" the Servant of the Lord, and the study that I'm reading calls these poetic pieces "Servant Songs". And I've been thinking about the promise of the Messiah. Much of the old Testament points toward him, sometimes in somewhat veiled ways, but often, in very direct prophesies. Moses says very clearly that  God will raise up from among the Israelites a prophet. And so there was this expectation among the Jews that Messiah (the anointed one of God) WAS coming. They just didn't know WHEN, exactly.

So, in the Servant Songs, in the book of Isaiah, we hear what Isaiah has to say about the Servant of the Lord. But what Isaiah has to say is so very, very counter-intuitive to what you and I might expect. The Servant that Isaiah describes is, in fact, radically paradoxically different from what many of us might be looking for as our leader.

I know when we read blogs, sometimes we tend to skim, quickly, looking for sound bites, and to be entertained.

But I invite you today to read this passage, slowly, even meditatively, with the care it deserves. And as I type this paragraph, I am praying that God's Holy Spirit will bring something fresh and new for each person who takes the time to read this beautiful passage of scripture.

And consider the contrast between the toothpaste commercial model of a man that we often look for to become our leader, and the Servant of the Lord, the One chosen by the Lord, as described by Isaiah.

  See, my servant will act wisely;
   he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.
Just as there were many who were appalled at him—
   his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being
   and his form marred beyond human likeness—
so he will sprinkle many nations,
   and kings will shut their mouths because of him.
For what they were not told, they will see,
   and what they have not heard, they will understand.

  Who has believed our message
   and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
   and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
   nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by mankind,
   a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
   he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.
  Surely he took up our pain
   and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
   stricken by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
   he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
   and by his wounds we are healed.
We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
   each of us has turned to our own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
   the iniquity of us all.
  He was oppressed and afflicted,
   yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
   and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
   so he did not open his mouth.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
   Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
   for the transgression of my people he was punished.
He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
   and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
   nor was any deceit in his mouth.
  Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
   and though the LORD makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
   and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.
After he has suffered,
   he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
   and he will bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,
   and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
because he poured out his life unto death,
   and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
   and made intercession for the transgressors.  (Isaiah 52:13-53:12, New International Version, ©2011)

I have asked myself the question before: "How did so many in Israel miss out on recognizing that their Messiah had come to them?"

But as I read what Isaiah prophesied, 700 years before Jesus ever walked this earth as the carpenter's son from Nazareth, it's very plain why they missed him. It's very plain why WE missed him.

He didn't have the outward trappings that turn us on.

But what He DID have! So much more, real, better and deeper than all the fleeting glory of man. Better than the shiny stuff that captures our ADD minds for a few brief seconds, before we get distracted and turn away.

I have so much more I want to share with you about this. In fact, my heart is about to burst, I have so much more to say.

But most of you felt your eyes glaze over when you got to that long scripture passage.

So, for now, I'll save it.

Watch for future updates.


Got any thoughts you'd like to share with me about this?

Thrice Smitten: That's a Good Thing

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I'm really honored and Totally Not Worthy to have gotten an honorable mention as "A Good Laugh" over at Hilary's gorgeous blog, The Smitten Image. This is my third nod from Hillary, and I'm starting to suspect that this might be her way of being nice to the pitiful girl in the class. You know, the one who does stupid stuff like stepping in dog poop?
 

Whatever her true motivation: Long may she smite me, that's what I say.

Also, I posted a killer recipe for EASY Spinach Salad with Dried Cherries and Pepitas over on the Fun Girls. Are you following the Fun Girls yet? They are SOOOO much more fun and interesting than I am. What are you even DOING here, anyway?

I LOVE you for stopping by! Y'all come back now, ya here?

 

Storm O'er the Boonies

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You know that big storm system that blew across the US recently? On Monday afternoon, it passed through our area.

The lightning strikes started popping like popcorn while I was on the phone with my friend, Anne. I had just mentioned to her that things were starting to get dicey, and I might need to get off the phone when a fearfully bright lightening flash and an on-its-heels house-shaking kind of ka-BOOM, followed by the power going off for a second made me decide it really wasn't the best time to be on the phone.

I ran to the TV, and saw there was a tornado warning, heading straight for us, that looked like it would be over top of us in five minutes. Well, shoot! Told the kids to put their shoes on (think walking through broken stuff - that's where a Mommy's mind goes). Ran upstairs, told my husband, the Big Bison who, ever cool in a crisis,  tried to rope me into a discussion over an email he was writing. I pointed out to him that the TV behind him had a graphic on the screen mentioning our neighborhood, and the arrival time was in 2 minutes.

I called the dogs, (our Labrador, Deacon and our German Shepherd, Pilgrim) and the kids, and the 5 of us loaded ourselves into the teeny first floor bathroom, the only room in the house with no window. No, we don't have a basement. The wind, by this point, had kicked up to a truly alarming roar. The BB, at the last second, slipped through the door, which was harder to do than you might think. since the area where the door was supposed to swing open was mostly filled up with Labrador and ManCub. I was seated on the toilet (Yes! My pants were up, and the lid was down). My daughter was in the bathtub, and  Pillie was wedged in between the toilet and the tub, occasionally partially climbing into the tub, and then squirming back out. Pillie was on edge, to put it mildly. It is a German Shepherd's sworn duty in life to Protect the Flock, and this is hard for Pillie, because she's a big fat weenie. She walks around in a perpetual existential crisis, because she knows she is not living up to her ancestral heritage. She worries about this a lot. She worries about a lot of things a lot. She is, in fact, one of the most neurotic animals God ever created.

But I digress...

Where were we?

Oh, yes! The whole family was cram-jammed into that teeny tiny bathroom, and the wind was roaring and moaning.

Then, the cracking, popping, and whamming began. It sounded to me like it was coming from the front porch area. Like things were hitting the house. The BB and I exchanged glances, and that's when my out-loud praying began. I was calm, truly. But it seemed like a really good time to mention out loud to the Lord, that we could really use a little help. "Lord, we ask for your protection. We ask that you'd keep us safe, and this house safe, and our neighbors safe. We ask for you to watch over all who are in the path of this storm," was, I think, how it went. And then the lights began to flicker, on and off. "And Lord, it would be really nice if we could keep our power." Long about then, as if on cue, really, we were plunged into complete blackness. And the roar of the wind continued. And Pillie began climbing into the bathtub again. Our daughter had brought her ipod that lights up into the bathroom, so we had a bit of light from that, and the light we could see sneaking under the door frame.

And then, the volume of the wind, almost imperceptibly at first, began to decrease. And my husband stepped out to see what he could see. He came back with a "Whoa! We've lost some trees!", and with that, we all tumbled out of the teeny-tiny bathroom to see what we could see.

I thought you'd enjoy having a look-see as well. Click on the pictures, and you'll get more of a sense of the power of the storm.

First, three of the four heavy wooden rockers had been lifted up and moved from one end of our very long porch to the other. Here's the artistic view that my daughter shot.

Chairs in a wad.

Here's the overhead view, shot from my husband's studio's balcony.

Here's what they did when they slammed into the rail at the end of the porch.

Both ceiling fans were maimed. This one did more damage.

This is the tree that fell by the corner of the porch.  It blocked half our driveway, and took out a smaller cedar on its way down.

Same tree, porch view.

 It also fell in the driveway, blocking one of our garages, and missed our car by INCHES.

Biggest tree to fall down go boom, on the other side of the house.

Root ball of the biggest tree. Pillie is the about hip level tall on me, to give you a sense of scale.

Tree Art. Note the twist of the trunk.

Yes, to our shame, those ARE Christmas lights beside the sidewalk. It's the Boonies. We're rednecks. What can I say?

The storm was quite literally all around us. I am so thankful that our house suffered no serious damage, that we HAVE a roof over our heads, that none of us us was hurt.

P.S. No, I don't believe it was a tornado, but it was the biggest storm that I have ever had all around me.

And I made it myself.

Pin It I finally figured out how to make my own button! I'm so excited! I didn't even used to even know what a blog button was, but now, I can make my own.

I went to this wonderful lady's blog, carefully followed her instructions, and now I know how. So, if you'd like to make your own blog button, the very best help I can give you is to say, go here, and do EXACTLY what she tells you to do. She does a great job of walking you through the process.

Ursala ain't sayin' nothin', because it's not polite to talk with your mouth full.

My button is Ursala, the Unconcerned, who has her mouth cram jammed full of bird seed that she was busy liberating from our bird feeder, in a very unconcerned fashion, not 6 feet away from my back door, as I snapped her picture. Isn't she precious? You can also call her Jane Doe, if you like, since she's in the wildlife witness protection program till hunting season is over. (Kidding: I don't think you can hunt deer in the springtime anyway.)

Anyway, if you enjoy reading Wild Life in the Woods: steal my button, please!

Pee Wee's Auction Adventure

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No, not THIS Pee Wee. Image from here. 

Once upon a time, about 23 years ago, and I really and truly am not making this story up, I was a newlywed. OK, I know that's not that hard to believe. But hang on: it may take a while to get to the unbelievable part, but I promise, we'll get there. Patient yourselves, as they say in French.

So, anyway, the Big Bison and I married for love. It was love back then, and it's still love 23 years later. What I'm trying to say tactfully, is that neither one of us was exactly well off. We furnished our first apartment, our little love nest in the tree tops, with a whole lot of used, and frankly, ugly furniture that other people didn't want anymore because it WAS so ugly. We were OK with that. We were living on love. What did we care???

But, after our wedding, we decided we wanted to begin feathering our nest a little bit, and our friends had told us of a cool little place down in a small town in Tennessee that held auctions every Saturday night. And apparently, this place offered Spiegel catalog overstock items. And lots of interior designers in town would frequent this auction in order to snag  some great little items for their clients. Well,  this sounded like something that was well worth investigating to us, so one Saturday night, just for kicks, we drove down there to see what the fuss was about. And sure enough, amidst the junk and the clutter, they occasionally offered some pretty nice stuff, Watching the bidding alone could be more exciting than a football game. We were hooked, and for a while, we began driving down there fairly often on Saturday nights, just for the sport of it. We got to know the personalities of the auctioneers, and their helpers (the guys who carried out the stuff that people were to bid on).

Which leads me to the crux of this story. There was one helper named Pee Wee. No, it wasn't Paul Rubens. Nor did OUR Pee Wee look anything like his more famous namesake. Tennessee's Pee Wee came by his name honestly. He surely must have been the runt of the litter in his family. Short, wiry, perpetually sporting a baseball cap and a big cheesy moustache, he was quick on his feet, and quick with a grin, which proudly displayed at least 4 or 5 teeth. Pee Wee was a character. We were kind of fond of Pee Wee, although he never knew us. He made the drive worth taking, as he cheerfully carried out item after item for the auctioneer to conduct bidding on.

One night, Pee Wee and his fellow helper brought out an extremely singular item for our bidding pleasure. (This is the part where the story gets unbelievable. I told you it was coming.) We heard a murmur going up from the front of the room, that grew to a dull roar,  as Pee Wee and his coworker brought out a HUGE boa constrictor, that it took both of them to carry.

Pee Wee's boa was bigger, and that's all I'm going to say about that. Picture from here.

 The snake was big and fat, and my dear husband says that he was at least 8 feet in length, but I maintain that he was definitely 12 feet long. It took TWO GUYS to carry him, for crying out loud. And the plan was to auction off this creature! I was shocked, horrified, and mesmirized all at the same time. I could not tear my eyes away: there was Pee Wee, little Pee Wee, grinning like a toothless Chessie cat, with that HUGE REPTILE in his arms. And that's when the unthinkable happened. (Now, what follows was a sight gag. You really almost had to be there, and I'm desperately sorry that I don't have a REAL picture to show you, but you're just going to have to try to picture it in your own mind, and let your imagination see what I saw with me own eyes that night.)

Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The unthinkable happened: Pee Wee lifted his arms over his head, the better to display SnakieBoy to the incredulous crowd. And as he raised his arms up in the air, hoisting the snake aloft, a gap appeared between the bottom of his t-shirt and his belt buckle. And his hairy belly showed. And there, displayed for all to see, underneath his navel, was a large tattoo of an arrow (a "This End Up" kind of arrow),  pointing down.

And that, kids, is the story of PeeWee's snake.

I ask you: could I make this stuff up???

P.S. Could you "see" it? Or did you just have to be there?