Phabulous Photo Phriday! (on Saturday...)

Sometimes you make it. You do it. You finish, you accomplish, you "git 'er done!"

And sometimes, not.

So to make up for the fact that this Phabulous Photo Phriday is actually on Saturday, I present a post brought to you by the letter...

W!

As in...

WAFFLES!

Now that I have your complete attention, I'll proceed... See, it's no secret that I'm a huge fan of The Pioneer Woman. P-Dub-Wub-Diddy is da bomb. And I don't care who knows that I feel that way.

In fact, I have a dream of being asked to come down to their ranch to play my little whistles and such for a party or something. Everybody needs a dream, even if it's just waffles.

Since P-Dub is a fabulous cooking star and blogger, I thought I'd take one more step closer to her awesomeness by doing a food post. Thus bringing her awesomeness into sharp focus when compared to my own. And thus balance is achieved in the world. Amen.

So, on to a Wonderful Wacky Window into Weird... (Crap - just used every W word I know. Oh well - hopefully nobody will notice.)

W is for...

Work it! As in, get that mix in da bowl. And yes, someone my wife knows and loves did make that fabulous pot holder beneath the bowl. Modesty prevents me telling you who that is. Instead, let me go on with...

Water! As in, put de lime in the coconut and... no. Not that.

Way cool! As in, my little Rachael Ray lazy spoon. The better not to drip stuff all over the little pot holder thingie under the bowl. Although I still did that - keep reading...

Well, I told ya! As in, my little Rachael Ray lazy spoon. Being un-lazy prior to being lazy once again.

Way it works! As in, here it is in action.

 Warm! As in, how this butter is supposed to be...

Whoops! As in, I had no idea how grungy my microwave was... pretend you didn't see this, ok?

Warm! As in, how this butter is supposed to be...

Whew! As in, hopefully nobody noticed. Just keep going, Waffle Boye...

Wet! As in, wet ingredients in da house... bowl... thing.

Whip it! Whip it good! As in, pop music has had WAAAY too big of an influence on me.

Wiring! As in, make sure you're not trying to use the toaster or the microwave when you turn this puppy on. 100+ year old house - that's all I'm sayin'.

Awesome! As in, I just want the world to know that I have a Lemonjello's coffee mug. Bow down to my superior awesomeness, all ye drinking from S*******s cups. HAH!

Why-the-heck-haven't-I-been-using-this-thing? As in, I've had this Pampered Chef oil sprayer pressure pump mist thingie for years, but never used it. Now it's the tool of fabulous for the waffle process.

We Get It On! As in, time to quit yak yak yakin' and get to wafflin'.

Willy Wonka As in, when he didn't say "A little spritzing now and then is relished by the wisest men!" (ok - smile, keep moving and nobody will catch that one...)

Wafflepalooza! As in, here we go. FINALLY!

Wham! As in, down go de lid... ("Shut de lid, cook up de waffle. Shut de lid, cook de waffle in de iron...")

Wrist action! As in, now we flip de iron over to cook de waffle.

Waiting! As in, um, ... never mind. You get this one.

Wretched man! As in, totally forgot to add that little special something that Herself likes in a waffle...

Work it in! As in, as long as she doesn't get the first waffle, she'll never know... Until she reads this. D'oh!

Weesa DONE! As in, tender fluffy goodness comin' out!

What the HECK! As in, what my non-butter-loving honey ALWAYS says when butter is applied in any greater quantity than "barely scraped over the extreme edge of something." And, for the record, the butter was cold, the waffle was slightly warm, and it hadn't melted yet. So there. My waffle, my rules. Phbbbt.

Sorry you had to see that. Back to Waffles...

Weapons of warfare! As in, what we use to wage waffle war...

We Rollin'! As in, here's how we be rollin' wif dem waffles 'round here...

What the heck 2! As in, which is worse - a pool of pure sugar in blessed liquid form (remembering that my post-surgical self doesn't do well with a lot of sugar)... -or- ...

Wondrous to behold! As in, the perfect proportions of butter and a touch of brown sugar to provide just enough goodness to accompany a perfect waffle. I think the evidence is pretty clear. So there. I win. Yay me.

W!@@#$%#$#@@!##$%#@#$!!!!!! As in, the reaction of BekaV upon discovering that waffle love doesn't trickle down to doggies (at least while momma is right there watching...).

Wiped clean! As in, my plate. For the record, Herself had a pool left over, which required another (small) waffle. Hmm... perhaps she has found a more excellent way. DANG!


Thanks for being along for another Phabulous Photo Phriday (on Saturday)! Tune in next time to hear BekaV say...

"This Phabulous Photo Phriday is brought to you by the letter S, as in SHREDDING daddy's shorts. No waffle love for doggies - nice..."

Lent 2013

Holy cow, where has the time gone?

Ok - I know... regardless of how many Sci Fi books I read, how many episodes of Andromeda or Star Trek (in its various incarnations) I watch, or how much I really love The Doctor...

Time moves as it always has, and always will. Yup.

But still, time manages to surprise us by its absence, doesn't it?

So realizing that today is Ash Wednesday, and that we're embarking on Lent already for another year does freak me out a little. After all, I hear "Lent" and I immediately start thinking "Easter."

Nope. Not the same. Beginning of Lent is nowhere near Easter. Nope.

Which brings us to the question that I seem to hear as much as "So what's your New Year's Resolution?" Ah yes, the ever-popular...

"So, what are YOU giving up for Lent?" 

Usually followed on Facebook by some comedic banter, witty retorts, and (more and more, I'm glad to say) some sincere responses.

And don't get me wrong - it's totally alright to joke about giving up 'giving up things for Lent' for Lent. Or something like brussels sprouts, which you wouldn't catch me eating on even a really bad day. That's all good fun, and I certainly make my own share of them. If you're going to deny yourself something until Easter, you at least have the right to laugh about it, dagnabit.

But there is a serious side to the question, and a serious answer. And my answer is, as I believe it was last year, not about what I'm giving up but rather what I'm taking on, what I'm striving for.

But last year was a little vague. Good, but vague. This year, I'm a little older, slightly wiser (in a faltering, Goofyesque type of way), and more needy. I've been through some major shifting this past year, I've learned new things about myself, and I'm still trying to puzzle out how those lessons become part of my story, my now, so that the good things I've tried to learn become not just memories and experiences, but things that refined me and pushed me a little further down my path.

So my Lenten focus is a little clearer. And again, it's not so much about what I'm "giving up," but rather what I'm taking on, what I'm focusing on. To use Lent as a reminder, every time I say no to something or choose another path, that the reason I'm doing it is to submit to the One who gave it all up for me.

So, for Lent, I'm going Paleo.

"As usual Cal, you've managed to take an almost poignant moment of spiritual meaning and throw it down the crack of absurdity."

Thank ya. Thank ya very muchhhhh. Uh huh! 

"Shall we assume that you're going to use one of your favorite phrases here, 'lemme 'splain'?"

Why yes, you can certainly assume that. And thank you for setting up the recurring gag so eloquently.

During my 9 month retail career, I gained about 30 pounds. A significant number for anyone to gain, but for me it's a huge red flag that things are way, w-a-a-y out of balance and control. With my redecorated innards, gaining that much weight means that I'm really not doing my job, and that some major shifting has to happen, lest that number get bigger and bigger along with me getting bigger and bigger.

I've already burned my membership card in the 400 Plus Club, and I have no intention of requesting a new one. I don't even want to see the junk mail from the 300 Plus Club, and as for the Over 250 Club? I might be camping on your doorstep, but I ain't gonna knock.

Besides, if I get over 300, I exceed the weight limit on my beloved trike, Big Blue. "That shall not (come to) pass!"

So, Paleo.

Essentially, it's this: "Eat only things a caveman could eat." If it can be killed and dragged home, if it can be picked, plucked, or dug and eaten, it's fair game. If it has to be processed, refined, sifted, sorted, or fiddled with (other than cooking it to make it safe to eat, of course), it's not fair game.

Meat = very good. Beans = very good. Veggies = good. Fruits = good. Grains = bad (for the most part). Dairy = meh (depends on if you're Orthodox Paleo or Reformed Paleo...).

Sugar = Dark Lord of the Sith BAD.

And that last one is where it bites me in the hiney... I ingest way WAY too much sugar for someone with my history, especially as a (and I quote) "former diabetic who still possesses diabetic potential if your weight were to return." Not to mention what sugar does to my present anatomy.

Oi vey. With a bullet.

The only thing that creates more havoc in my little tum-tum is a carbonated beverage. If sugar is a Dark Lord of the Sith, soda (even diet soda) is a whole cotton-pickin' Death Star load of 'em. And a diet COLA? Pretty much the whole Imperial army, including the little two-legged walkie-shooty-thingies that get smunched when the Ewoks let loose the two logs to smack together with it in the middle.

Why yes, I have watched a few of those movies a few times. How did you guess?

So, Paleo.

In a nutshell, ('cause nuts ARE Paleo, in moderation) it's a low carb diet, with more veggies and fruit. And more awesomeness. And a side of refried beans. Sour cream optional, but since I'm Reformed and not Orthodox, bring it.

Returning to the poignant spiritual moment previously launched into the crack of absurdity, the way it all sums up for me in this Lenten season, is this...

For Lent, I'm going to make mindful choices to walk away from the carbs I overload with, to get back to the basics of how my new physiology operates best, and to return to those careful, thoughtful behaviors that ensure my new life will continue to be lived as God has called me to live it.

And each time I turn away from a bagel or a candy bar, each time I choose the right path, every time I deny myself something that appeals to my senses but would damage my health, I'll remember that I'm walking this path because of the path Jesus walked for me, and use the opportunity to remember that my little piddly "sacrifices" aren't even worth comparing to His. They're important, they're significant in the here and now, but compared to Christ? *hangs head*

Like Advent, Lent is more of a mindful journey for me. It's not about what I got rid of for 40 days (or however many), but rather the place my path has ended up when I reach Easter. Every choice I make along the way, between now and then, is a reminder of that path. It is about denial, but not about developing pride about that denial, lest I become one of the religious folks Jesus opened up a big ol' can of whoop bottom on.

So yes, you will probably see me putting sugar in my coffee. (And some sort of creamer - again, I'm Reformed Paleo, not Orthodox. You REALLY don't want to require me to grow a crazy David Crowderesque beard - it'd take 15 years, and would still look like a rotting pelt from a deranged chipmunk...) But I probably won't be washing my coffee down with a cookie. A thin crust pizza from Gus' Originals? Probably, but no cheesy bread to go with it. Abstinence in some things, moderation in others.

The point is, the mindful in-the-moment thought that went into each choice. And remembering Who calls me to my ReBorn life - His choices, His denial, His acceptance, His sacrifice.

Welcome to Lent, brothers and sisters.

Why I've Dropped My Membership In The Golden Calf Club...

The what??

The Golden Calf Club.

As in, the habit I have of rolling my eyes and thinking myself SO much better than the Hebrew children, since I’d never EVER go for a cow right after having trotted through the Red Sea. It’s brought to you by the same fine folks as the Friends Of Job Club, which I dropped many years ago.

So, as usual, I’ve gone off on such a bunny trail that even BekaV would have trouble following me down it. Actually, she’d be way the HECK out in front of me, since she’s about 100,000 times faster than me, even if I’m on a trike. Unless it’s a Harley trike, of course.

Herself and I were listening to the Daily Audio Bible this morning, and the OT reading was the story from Exodus - Moses on the mountain, getting the goods from God, and the folks NOT on the mountain, getting Aaron to make a cow. Brian Hardin (host, voice, and heart of the DAB) gave us some perspective on the story when reminding us that God is creating a new people, a new culture from the Israelites, since for hundreds of years their memories are tied to slavery. They don’t know how to live as free people in this new situation, since slavery is all they’ve ever known. So the commandments, the rules, the observances - all are intended to help take these former slaves and help them learn and live their new life as God’s chosen people.

But there are a lot of years, decades, generations of habits to get over. Habits that have only known Egypt and slavery.

So for the first time, when hearing the part where, after Moses has been gone so long, the people asking (begging, telling, threatening?) Aaron to make them gods to worship, my response wasn’t immediately, “You doorknobs! How could you DO something like that??”

I suddenly thought, “Well, perhaps the weight of their habits, generations of a very narrow worldview, seeing slavery as their only life, and not knowing the God of their fathers kicks in. Before they stop to remember all they’ve seen to get them here, they switch right over to the life and behaviors that are deeply written into their minds...” And it’s not too far of a flight of fancy to imagine that, because God continued to care for them and bless them, that they might have learned to attribute those blessings to something other than Him. At some level, God could have been forgotten and the idols all around them became the author of what little blessings they could find in their life of slavery. That might be stretching it, but it’s an interesting angle to look from...

‘cause let’s face it - I’m there too.

No, there are no golden cows or anything like that in our abode. There is a cute dog, but usually she gets treats and cuddles, not worship. Unless I’m on a really strange prescription...

But all I have to do is see myself munching a candy bar, snarfing a piece of pie, or chowing down on some other food that really isn’t anywhere near the type of stuff I need to fuel my new life with, and I see my cow.

Although eating some cow is fine, for the record. Protein = good, simple carbs = bad.

The habits of 51 years can easily kick over the last 3 years. (Ok - it’ll be 3 years on March 30th... the Proofreader will appreciate that little detail.) The momentum of my life before I was ReBorn can sweep away all I’ve seen and lived and become over these years. I can yearn for my version of Egypt - candy, ice cream, and carbonated beverages, even though that path leads back to bondage, food addiction, and all that comes with returning to the 400 Plus Club.

That’s someplace I never EVER want to go again. I’ve been 486, and I don’t want to go back there.

But that’s someplace I could go again, if the old doesn’t pass away and the new comes and sticks around.

So, the Golden Calf Club? Nope. I’m just like those former slaves, wandering around, trying to understand what happened to them, and reaching for the only comfort they know. I can’t roll my eyes, throw up my hands, or otherwise think myself so much better than them.

Because the truth is, it's way too easy for me to throw away the Promised Land for a Mounds bar.

Phabulous Photo Phriday... On Saturday.

So, last week ended up being a Phantom Phabulous Photo Phriday.

'cause we were on vacation...

Up here...

 

 In this...

Which is pretty much the reason we try and go across this...

 

At least once this time of year to get more of that than we get down here...

 

And unlike her last visit in August...

 

Where she did some... exploring...

 

Beka decided to just chillax this time...

 

Sleep in late with momma...

 

And watch Puppy Bowl IX with daddy.

You know... just your basic relaxing vacation.

When The Audience Turns Its Back

The following thought comes from Calvin Miller's Singer trilogy - if I wasn't essentially lazy, I'd go look it up, however since Google tends to be an open window for me to chase squirrels through, I tend to jot down the essentials and leave my intrepid reader to do the research.

SQUIRREL!! *stops, looks around*

This pretty much explains my massive number of readers - 2.58 and falling.

Anyway, the thought...

It is much harder to sing when the audience has turned its back.

Or, in the words of Garfield the Cat Bard, (And this one I can put quotes around and everything, since I'm actually quoting and not guessing - a rare occurrence here at TW'sW's...)

(Pause to s-w-o-o-n with excitement...)

"Thank you for that large round of indifference."

How much of our lives do we spend in hopes of approval? A pat on the back, a "like" on the page, a comment on the blog?

A gust of wind and a hearty "Hi yo Silver - AWAY!"?

Or is that last one just me?

(And yes, I'm aware I don't have that quote right, except for the whole Hi Yo thing. Remember - Google + Cal = SQUIRREL! Words I live by...)

And now, it's time for another example of how different I am from my beloved... 
See, she's probably going to be proofreading these words before they see the light of day (at least we all hope and pray she will...), and upon seeing that I'm probably misquoting or just guessing on some of those things, she'll have Google open in another tab before you can say "frapdoodle," and will be deciding if she should actually put in the correct quotes and neaten everything up, or leave it be to allow the world to see once again her hubby's rather unique (read: off-kilter and twisted) perspective on the world.

The following space is left intentionally blank... If she did the aforementioned research, looked up the aforementioned misquotes, and pondered if she should fix them for me, I command... um, suggest... um, pleadingly beg that she put the corrections in the following space, in a different color font, that all might know that I'm not making this stuff up. If she didn't, there will be a lovely blank space for you to take an opportunity to roll your eyes at me.

 Ok, GoogleGirl - take it...

Calvin Miller - "It is always much more difficult to sing when the audience has turned its back."

Garfield - he nailed that one!  :-D

Lone Ranger - "Hi-yo, Silver! AWAY!"


In the spirit of Master Yoda (rather than quoting him) I say, "Told you, I did." (Unless there's just a blank space there - then Missy Yoda would be saying "Showed you, I did." Well played, proofreader - well played...)

Recently on this here pony show of rambling miscellany, I brought something rather personal and deep to the light of day - my ongoing struggle with depression and bipolar disorder. Why I would write about something perhaps better left concealed is explained in that post, so I won't run over that turf again. But one thing that came from it has made me do some thinking and examination...

And that thing would be, nothing.

Absofragginlutely nothing.

No comments, no "likes" or such on a page, no emails or IMs of either encouragement or disbelief. No idea if anyone even saw those words - was it worth baring something so close to my heart if nobody would ever read it? If it does no good, encourages no one? What's the point of writing if nobody hears it?

Which makes me take myself out back for a sharp talking to...

TW'sW's is my personal journal. Note I didn't say 'private,' just personal, since our Father seems to delight in telling me to hang my undies out there to dry before the whole world - all 2.58 of 'em.

(The readers, not the undies - just to be clear. The census of my undies remains undisclosed. There's a reason to be thankful if you were needing one today.)

Writing is therapy, it's processing, and it's someplace for me to laugh at my own jokes. Nobody else may find this poopy funny, but it amuses me.

The point is, it does a good work in me, it changes things in me, and as my beloved so wisely said, "It's where the maintenance gets done." (And that's a QUOTE, people! Woo hoo! He got one right!)

(You mean besides the Garfield quote, honey? :-D)

*Insert turbo-moon dance of victory*

*Insert sound of 2.58 readers either clicking away to far-flung pages or bleaching their eyeballs -  although the former is a better choice than the latter. Totally.*

So why do I feel let down when there's no approval? No comments, no "likes," no nuttin'?

Because, I think, when we put something out there so intimate and personal, we'd like to think at the end of the day that laying ourselves open like that was for a reason, a purpose. If we're struggling through a tough issue, and making the battle transparent so that others can see it ("others" meaning folks that have a similar struggle, feeling like they're all alone in the fight), then it'd be nice to know that making our flaws and brokenness show to others is worth the effort. Otherwise, why let people know how messed up we are? Why trot our junk out there for everyone to see? Why put a huge picture window on our front wall so the professionals from Hoarders can look right in and say, "Dude - I'm not goin' in there. EVER."

Why indeed?

Because "God works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform." (Yes, it's a quote. From a hymn. No, I don't remember which one. And no, I'm not going to go look it up, lest I be chasing squirrels down the information superhighway for the next hour or two...)  (God Moves in a Mysterious Way, "God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform...", written by William Cowper, a British poet and hymnist who struggled throughout his life with depression, doubts, and fears.)  

God doesn't give us the "here's-why-you-did-that" cam. Or a script, so we can read ahead to scene 22 where the big reveal happens. Our lives don't have footnotes, so we can turn to the end of the chapter and see what it all means.

There's no appendix at the end giving us the timeline and what happened to the characters after Frodo and Bilbo hop on the grey ship and sail off the end of the world. Or the smack upside the head Rose gives Sam after he ran off to hang out with Mr. Baggins and left her with the kids and the garden and the chores for a few days.

Nope. Nuttin'.

And really, we don't need it. We don't need the comments, the "likes" (As opposed to the "Lykes" - I do indeed need my nieces and nephew, 'cause I loves them kiddos, I do...), the attaboys, the affirmations, or any of the praise of people. We don't need to know that our stories helped someone else, or that we have significance in some situation somewhere. Nice? Yes. Necessary? Nope.

This is all we need to know: God loves His kids. God works in His kids. God shows His glory through His kids. God shows His love, His grace, His mercy through His kids.

Does anyone read these words? Probably.

Does being transparent in my struggles have significance? Yes, because I do so in obedience to Him.

If I trip and fall in the woods and there's no one around to hear it, do I still scream like a little girl?

Oh heavens, yes.

So I struggle, I strive, I stumble, I stagger. I write, I think, I work and the maintenance gets done. I post, I publish (or at least hope to, if He says that's my path), I tell the story (if He gives me the opportunity) and I remain as transparent as He asks me to be.  

As long as God is the Hero of the story, as long as He is the theme of it all, and as long as my little steps and efforts point straight to Him, then that's reason enough to go on.

No comments? No "likes?" No attaboys? No worries. 

The One who calls me to my ReBorn life is the only One whose approval I need.

As for laughing at my own jokes? Bonus, baby. Oh yeah.

"For in Him we live and move and have our being."
- Acts 17:28 (TNIV)