My Dear Mother and the Meaning of Life

The meaning of life is not 42. It's very far from 42. My dear mother is convinced that we exist for no purpose other than cleaning the kitchen. How we came to discover this:

Cora: "Where should I put the Weck?"
Dear Mother: "You can clear off the counter over there... Actually, it might help to clean the whole kitchen first!"
Cora: "You ALWAYS think cleaning the kitchen helps. If I was going to do a sewing project in the basement, you'd tell me that it would help to clean the kitchen first!"
Dear Mother: "Well... it would! You're not going to escape from cleaning the kitchen. When you're 80, you'll still be cleaning the kitchen!"
Cora: "Douglas Adams was wrong, then. The meaning of life is NOT 42! It's cleaning the kitchen!"

 I did get the dishwasher unloaded, reloaded, counters cleared... and then commenced baking... So it really doesn't look like I cleaned at all. Guess what I have to go do now!

Embrace the cleaning of the kitchen. It IS your destiny.

:-/

Well, Knock Me Over With a Feather!

Check out this headline:

Calif. county bans toys in kids' meals in attempt to cut fat

Really? Where's a wall. I need a wall... *smacks head against it*

Katie's Whole Wheat Pan Bread

My friend, Jenna, over HERE was asking for favorite recipes that are relatively healthy. I think this fits the bill...

This is the food my family refers to as "hard tack" and devours the moment I make it.

WW Pan Bread
From my dear friend Katie

7/8 c Warm Water
1/3 c Oil
1/4 c Honey
  1  t Salt
3 1/s-4 c Whole Wheat Flour

Mix into a stiff dough and roll flat on baking sheet. Poke repeatedly with fork and score into squares. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 minutes or until done. Fend off hungry family members until you get a bite.

There is no picture because it was all eaten before my darling brother came home with the camera. *Rolls eyes*

~From Cora's Cooking And Poetry Book
(a Thomas Kinkade journal serving a better purpose)

There's a Snake in My Boot!

Once upon a time
 (about an hour ago)
I pulled up to the gas station
To fill up my truck's tummy.

I stepped out of the truck
(right down into a puddle)
And thought, "My lands!
Methinks a snake has made a home
Inside my tire tread!

The hiss was loud - too loud
(and angry, seems to me.)
I bent down to the awful noise
And found the wretched beast.

Shiny was the awful thing,
(small and silver, too.)
It sat there hissing up at me
And I a mite confused.

For it was no snake inside my tire
(instead, a giant screw)
Embedded in the rubber
And naught there could I do!

I called up my dear papa
(he can fix these things, I know!)
He said to bring it home
For I was not far away.

So I took my poor C-3PO
(that is my lil' truck's name)
Back toward my house,
But on the way...

My eldest brother'd come
(to follow me)
and see me safely home.


Big thanks to my brother, Mighty Mike! :-)

On a side note, the bats in the barn are very much alive and well. :-/

We're a'doin' this a-gain.

Yesterday, I said to myself, "Self! I want to make a snackie that only I will eat so my peeps will leave it alone." So I made something that my family has, in the past, lovingly referred to as "Whole wheat hard tack." Oil, water, WW flour, a little honey, and salt. I mixed it up. I kneaded it up. Then I baked it up.

And then The Lego Maniac ate it up.

...What? AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! Nothing is safe around a teenage boy.

So today, I said to myself, "Self! The darling brother is probably sick of it now. It is my chance!" So I ground up the flour and commenced baking.

The little bro just looked up from the computer and said, "Hey, are you making more of that stuff?" Cora: "Um... yes?" Darling brother: "I have to work this afternoon, so make sure there's enough for me to take some with for snackage!"

...What?

*sigh* Hopeless. It's hopeless.

Shabbat Shalom!

O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: "My God, how great Thou art!"

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

-Based on the Swedish poem "O Store Gud" written by Carl Gustaf Boberg

Must-Read Post!

Our brother in Christ, Mr. Batson, wrote an excellent piece on character. I highly encourage you to read it.

Take a lesson on Character from the NFL; Who'd have thunk it?