Mystery Ingredient Monday

Alright, here's the Monday post I wrote on Sunday and posted on Tuesday, which is supposed to be about what I made for supper on Monday but is actually all about a late lunch on Sunday.  So whatever, off to a roaring start and all that.  Is this even Day 1 of the challenge?  Because I thought Sunday was.  But if Sunday was then I'm on day 3, and if today is then I'm on day....AGGGHHHHHH!

It doesn't. matter.  On to mustard.

 When I first decided to tag along on the mustard game, I figured I'd take the opportunity to use this ^ which has been sitting in my fridge forever, and actually contains the remnants of three or four identical products that people keep giving me when they move.  Except that I noticed that right beside this bottle was another bottle that contained Dijon mustard, which is so much better for cooking.  And since I tend not to use recipes, I needed all the 'high quality' ingredients I could get.

I kept backing and forthing on what to make and had almost decided on muffins (oh yeah - a good basic muffin recipe full of cheese, bacon, ham, chives, a bit of mustard....) but then couldn't 'mustard' the energy (oh come on, that was funny) and made meatloaf instead.

Here's what I put in it.  I even wrote stuff down and used measuring spoons and everything, which is practically unheard of around here.

1/2 kg med. ground beef (I was wrong, should have used lean.  Keep it in mind)
1 egg
1 Tbsp dijon mustard
1 Tbsp oregano
1 Tbsp thyme
salt and pepper
1 large cheese bun torn into pieces

Bake in muffin tins at 300F until done

The cheese bun was a late in the game decision - my last experience with using oatmeal in a meatloaf was unpleasant, and I didn't have any cooked rice or breadcrumbs and the crackers I had wouldn't have gone well.  So a cheese bun it was.

There you go.  Up a little late...but there you go.  Here's the link up!
                                                                                                

You didn't think Clothing Was Optional, did you?

Linking up today with 7 Posts in 7 Days and What I Wore Sunday...just a linking machine I am, I am!

I wish you could all have prayed for me this morning.  You could have started, oooo, right around when David turned to me in bed and said "Oh, when you get to church, can you set up the communion table please?"  and then got up and left for work.  Leaving me with two sticky, hot children to dress and drag off into the wild blue yonder all by my lonesome.  And then you could have tossed in a thousand or so prayers for the children, who had to eat cold pizza for breakfast because mama neeeeeeeded a shower, and one or five cuppa teas.  No, actually you could have started with the discovery that we had no clean diaper covers, or maybe that we didn't fill a prescription yesterday that we need today.

Wherever you start, you would have had to continue right on past the wanton destruction of all cleaned surfaces in the house by Clara The Destroyer, and the spectre of 'Too Much TV'.

***

Alright.  I have a bit of an explanation to make here.  I haven't been linking to anyone very much lately.  And there's a reason.  Sort of.  I mean, it isn't a very good reason but it is kinda a real one.  You see, I'm not joining in a lot of link ups because I really like blogs; I really like beautiful blogs.  I like pictures of other people's lives, and children, and backyards and holidays.  I like the pictures, and for some reason I seem unable lately to replicate anything even kind of sort of approaching a decent photograph.

It's not for lack of trying!  Take a look...

See?  That's a What I Wore Sunday post...that never happened.  We got dressed, we got outside, I had a friend come over and take a picture of us with the horrifically un-mowed clover field in the background, and then I just didn't post it.

Now I don't know why, maybe it's because I don't like the pictures I'm taking enough to post them, or maybe I'm lazy by the time I get home from church, change, put the children down for naps and collapse in a heap of tension.  I'm not a psychoanalyst, I'm just a gal trying to get a post up here, but today - well, today I was going to do it if it killed me.

And so we just plowed through, we did.  Straight through the awful behaviour, the endless crying, the discovery that the only functioning single stroller was soaking wet and Samuel's shoes were as well.  Keep on going!  Are you wearing a plaid shirt and striped socks and slippers to church?  Good, excellent!  And you?  Are you barefoot and in your brother's diaper cover and no hat?  Right!  Fine!  Hold on, babies, I've got to hot glue gun my shoe back together!  Wait just a moment, somebody pooped!

My hair is wet, doesn't matter, don't stop now, the stroller is locked in a reclined sleeping position, that's fine, get that baby in.  Take pictures, everyone smile.  Let's go to church.

The only time they were both standing.

Dreary looking.

Dark, frowny.  Whatever.

I'm wearing a dress from Forever 21, a cami from Walmart, shoes (that you blessedly cannot see) also from Walmart.  My necklace is a little pocket watch clock on a chain, and it's a Christmas gift from my parents from several years ago.  My bracelet is a plain silver chain and my headband is from the Dollar Store with an antique cameo broach pinned.

I have a nice camera, I do.  And I just don't understand why I seem completely unable to USE it.

Today...

In no particular order...

Best friends...

Nature all around us...

In which I worry unendingly about nothing.

It's been a summer of parades and parties and learning to ride a bicycle.  Oh, and packing of course.  Always the packing.  The packing and sorting has overwhelmed me.  It's made me an anxious wreck - I worry constantly.  I'm torn between the desire to rid myself and my family of the unwanted dross that collects on multiple moves as seaweed collects on a boat, and a strange nostalgic yearning to Keep Everything Always.

It's the worry I blame for the lack of sleep, and the daily migraines, and the general hopelessness I feel as I look around the house and think "Now what?  What do I pack next?  Do we take this thing, this thing that I like a lot?  What about THIS thing that I like a lot?  Do I take the nice shoes that don't fit the children but might fit a future child?  Does the fact that they are too expensive to replace influence my decision?"

I hate having to quantify my love; rate it on a scale of 1-10 and decide if I love something enough to bring it.  I'm frustrated by the lack of people coming to help me.  I told a friend last night that I wanted people to care about us enough to be okay with being inconvenienced a bit.  Yes, of course it's hard to find time to help a friend move, of course it is, but if it's your friend who's moving then, well, you do it anyway.  Even if it means dinner is pushed back an hour or you miss out on the Saturday sleep in or what have you.  I want this to be someone's priority.  "Sorry, I can't go to the park with you today, I'm helping my friend pack."

It's probably directly caused by my worry - but I am Blowing Things Out Of Proportion around here left right and centre, as my mother would say.  Are the dishes not done?  The Entire Kitchen Is Disgusting.  Is the computer being slow?  We Must Have A Virus.  Did David say he had trouble practicing parallel parking today?  He's Going To Fail His Driver's Test.  At times like these I find a few things invaluable, and if you have a personality that swings across the pendulum whilst under stress, then you might want to write them all over your body in permanent marker, as I intend to do later.

When handling worry, it helps to have a project, but it helps more to help another person.  Yes, scrubbing my bathroom with bleach and a toothbrush is going to give me something to focus on, but at the end of the scrubbing, all I can hope for is to have calmed down enough to 're-boot' my brain and go to sleep, excusing myself from the endless cycle of worry.  On the other hand, if in the midst of my anxiety I focus on someone else, God seems to grant me a special grace.  And so I've seen myself taking on, or offering to take on, projects that most people would think were crazy to do at this point.  And they're helping, they're helping a lot.

A theologian will need to tell me why this is, all I know is that it's true, and it works, and I'm doing it.  And I'm diligently trying not to call my husband at work in a panic.  Trying.

Cynthia Sends Me A Cross

Another post on the list of posts in the back of my head.

My friend Cynthia has been talking for ages, literally years, about a gift she had to send to me.  Since my parents were planning a quick stop over at our house on route to Nova Scotia we took advantage of the opportunity to have them act as couriers - and Cynthia's gift finally touched down in its new home.

Imagine my surprise...

The most beautiful stained glass cross to hang in our new home!  Cynthia makes stained glass as a hobby (which completely amazes me because I never think of a hobby as something so well done you could sell it) and we have an ornament for our tree that she made for us years ago as well, but this! is! amazing!

In with her gift were books for the children as well, which was wonderful because the children love to read and love to tear open paper vigorously - wrapped books are the best gift around here.

For Samuel:

And for Clara:

Both have been read dozens of times already - I think we have winners here.

Beulah Camp

I have so much to share in this space!  Ugh, I'm annoying myself these days with my endless thoughts of  "oooo...must remember to blog about that" and then forgetting as quickly as it comes.  I sit in front of the screen, after the littles are in bed (but never asleep, do they ever sleep??) and my mind just draws a blank.  I cannot think of one solitary thing I intended to say.

Well, let's start with something, anyway, shall we?  Yesterday the children and I packed up our bits and pieces, drove an hour and arrived at Beulah campground where we spent the day.

 

It was oh so hot, but the Exalt choir was lovely, and we saw friends and enjoyed ourselves.  I'm not sure if I've really written much about our summer and how we're trying to be intentional about getting the children outside as much as possible - but, well, we are.  Rain or shine, heat or not.  A lot of days this translates into something like this afternoon, where I turned on the sprinkler in the backyard, but more and more I'm venturing outside of the yard and into the world. 

The more I experience the early years of childhood, the more I'm convinced that exercise and fresh air are not luxuries in the life of a little being, they really are necessities.  On the days when, for whatever reason, we can't get out, behavior plummets, appetites are wonky, fights ensue and really the whole day goes to heck in a handbasket.

So How's That Packing Coming Along...

It's a sad state of affairs when the only time you really get to chat to your husband about such important, life-changing events as, oh, moving your entire family across the country, is while waiting to see a doctor.

This means that there is a tonne of stuff to be done in the next few weeks, including but not limited to...

*David practicing for, taking and passing his final driver's training.
*Deciding on a method of moving, U.haul-type or moving company.
*Making decisions regarding large pieces of furniture and their new homes.
*Talking to the church about several issues, including what paint colours we want in the parsonage.
*David finishing all of his follow-up work for the two courses he took.
*Transferring our district license.

And of course, packing.  I know it seems early, what with there being 6 weeks until we go, give or take, but even so...  I have moved us a total of five times in ten years and if previous experience is any indication of how this move will go, the time line will be something like:

6 weeks - lots of time
5 weeks - lots of time
4 weeks - lots of time
3 weeks - I should pack something
2 weeks - I SHOULD PACK MANY THINGS
1 weeks - Oh Lord
Moving Day - Ahhhhhhhhhh!

And ain't nobody got time for that.

I'm sort of starting in the basement, and my technique is fairly simple at this stage - I call it Purge And Sort.  Purge everything, throwing out or donating when/if necessary/possible (no one wants sheets from the 70s, just saying) and then whatever is left gets sorted into piles.  I'm being pretty neurotic about my piles.  Our books are getting categorized by whether David will have them in his office or they'll be in the house, and even by genre - science, fiction, stuff I like to keep in the bathroom...no?  Alright then.

If it's going to David's office, then it gets packed in a cardboard box and labelled.  The idea is that those books are going to be unpacked directly onto shelves and then the boxes can be tossed away.  If the box contents are destined for the house, I'm trying to pack them in big plastic totes.  Partially because they are dry and clean and safe for stuff, but also because I have no practical idea of what the house will be like, and I may very well not be UNpacking stuff for a while if there isn't space.

It's going well, if slowly.  I don't want to bring even one superfluous item with us, so I'm being pretty rigorous about what 'makes the cut'.  We're not taking our dining room set, or a dresser, or any half finished projects.  I'm going to find new homes for books and such, for clothing that will fit the children if they shrink back to newborn size or suddenly develop gigantism and for the obscene number of towels we own.  Seriously.  Obscene.  Who NEEDS this many towels??

Whew.  I need a list.  That will make me feel better.