Little girls

Isn't God always revealing Himself to us in all things?  I, of course, miss much of this because I am, well, basically a space cadet much of my days.  But somehow, this morning, I caught a glimpse.  It was in my girls.  Nothing out of the ordinary happened.  They weren't dressed extra cute, didn't say anything extra sweet on their way out of the van, they just looked...angelic.  I watched them walking into school as I was pulling away and I couldn't help but to tell God "Thank you for sharing them with me."  They really are HIS, not mine.  Everything good in them was given by Him, not me.  Everything that I enjoy about them is a result of HIS work, not mine...  Their sweetness, their curls, their questions, their laughter, their energy, their absolute love of me... all given by HIM.  They are treasures, right here in front of me, every day, yet every day I miss it.  I see them and hear them but I don't always see Him in them, hear Him in them.

Today I did.

My heart ached to see them walk away from me.   I am missing them even though they are only a few blocks away.  I am pondering all of the little things I love about them.

Why do I not do this with the Lord?

I don't remember the last time I sat and pondered the things of the Lord.  I am so busy with all of the things that make my heart ache, that I don't stop to consider that His presence could soothe all of that.  I am so undisciplined in pretty much every area of my life that I don't rightly include God in anything, much less in everything, the way I am supposed to.  Today, I will look at my sweet girls when they come home and soak in the beauty of them, and the glory of the mighty God who created them. 

He makes beautiful things, and He makes all things beautiful.

Thank you Father.

He's moving on...

A few weeks ago, John Abraham demolished a bag of cookies on the sly.  Yesterday, it was pizza.  We had leftovers in the fridge.  I'm pretty sure the box had four pieces inside.  You can see by the photo below what remained after the raid. 

Seriously!  I feed the kid, scouts honor!  I don't understand why he feels compelled to sneak into the kitchen the minute I am distracted and stuff himself with whatever he can get his grubby little hands on.  I couldn't even begin to pretend to be upset with him though.  Its not like I needed the pizza, so he actually did me a favor.  I did make him stand against the wall for a photo of shame.  Pretty soon I'll have a collection!

I love my boy.

My guys

They are inside a plane (not sure what kind) at the Air Force base in Shreveport.  Too handsome!

He has no idea how to play that thing.  In fact, we bought that at a consignment shop thinking we were doing the kids a huge favor by getting them their first real musical instrument.  Turns out, its a left handed guitar, so only Madelyn will be able to play it.  Shows how much we know!  We'll see how that works out, if she ever shows an interest in it that is.

First day, again

Sarah started the third grade today, Maddy the first.  My big girls, both of them so beautiful and sweet.  No fear, no tears, no sorrow.  Only a heart full of gratitude and joy that I have the privilege to share these precious children.  Thank you Lord.

Here is a picture of the girls before we left for school.  Its a little blurry but still cute.

Officially a junkie

I can't seem to put it down.

My iphone.

Ug.

I didn't want to be "one of those people", as my friends and I would say.  So I am making strides to put the thing DOWN and be a functioning human being, with a normal PC.

The addiction really began with some cool photo editing apps.  I have now found picnik.com, which allows me to carry my addiction over to my home computer.  Basically, I can ignore all my responsibilities and the four other people in my home from in front of the computer, instead of pretending to be involved while my face in planted directly in front of my phone screen.  (I need glasses, but as my favorite comedian says, "I'll see tomorrow".)

Some of the pics I've edited...

Seriously, he's hot in either picture, but there is something about this old, grainy filter that     is    just ..........

lovely.  :)

Fried chicken, round one.

My first attempt at frying chicken. 
I just recently read the book "The Help", and fried chicken was mentioned at least a dozen times.  I enjoyed the book, but was left with an insatiable desire for fried chicken.  So, I decided to put my apron on and get in the kitchen.  A very dear friend of mine gave me great cookbook (Pioneer Woman), so I went with her batter/frying method.  I decided to be very food-networkie and brine the chicken for 12 hours THEN soak it in buttermilk for 12hours.  The results:  Very tender, juicy chicken.  The only thing I will do differently next time is take the skin OFF first before battering.  I double battered to give it extra crunch, but this renders the skin useless.   Double battered, no skin, brine and buttermilk soaked is definitely the way to go.  Here are the pics...

  In case you are wondering, no I did not heat the crisco in the can.  I had it sitting there until I was ready to use it and just snapped the pic.  In the picture above, you can see the mashed potatoes and turnip greens, and corn bread.  I actually made the corn bread a few nights before, but my from scratch buttermilk biscuits didn't turn out as well as I would have liked.  Actually, I didn't like them at all.  Dry, flat, basically useless rounds of nothingness.  Here's the pic though.  At least they looked pretty on the plate.

The end result was fried chicken for two days in a row, turnip greens gone after day one, and a tray full of biscuits in the garbage.  We'll try those again another time.

As the cookie crumbles...

At 3:30 today, after lunch at Full Moon BBQ and a hefty afternoon snack, my sweet boy calmly exclaimed "I'm hungry".  Rrrrrright.  "You've already had a snack, John Abraham, and you will have to wait until dinner, which will be in less than two hours.  Now go play."

Quiet.

I go into the kitchen to find that I had left the box of Nilla Wafers open on the counter.

Mistake.

I looked at him (trying with all my might not to smile).  His response to my glare? 
" I was really hungary."