Digging too deep

Winnie the Pooh

And fond childhood memories 

Deep in the hundred acre woods, where Christopher Robin plays. . .

Are you the child whose parents cuddled you at night and read chapters of Pooh's Adventures and other bedtime tales.  Or were you plopped in front of the screen and in went the VHS? (don't tell me it was DvD yet, it wasn't!)  Either way this stuff n' fluff really means a lot to you.  What if I told you that characters aren't created out of thin air, but are mixed from something more.  (Yes, even I know that the writer's son was Christopher, and that he had stuffed animals.)  Where I'm going is much deeper so hang on tight!

Let's look at the character traits of seemingly simple playmates.

Did you ever just want to super-glue his tail on?  Or at least use a screw?

Eeyore:  This one is most obvious, sad, gloomy and nothing ever goes right.  It almost sounds like "emos," even in a make-believe world,  reality is leaking through the pages.

He is always watching out for Roo.

Tigger: Happy, fun loving, bouncy, don't forget just a little bit spacey. This describes clearly someone I know.  

He is always in his garden.

Rabbit: Bossy, always planning, means well and is very organized. Thinks himself very clever.

(this is mostly me I'm, shall we say "strong willed.")

Dyk he can't spell "Owl?"

Owl: You try and be polite, and he really does know something. He just talks. So. Much.  On and on about nothing.  Are you starting to see my point? I hope so! 

P.S. I love his tree house!

Piglet's good times

Piglet:  S-c-cared s-s-stiff-f no matter how hard you try and help them. (If you pay them any attention, they are the best friends)

Roo having fun

Roo:  I don't care what age you are, there is always someone younger looking up to you. 

Whenever we see Kanga we see Roo!

Kanga:  That sweet person you know, maybe a Mother, grandmother, or neighbor.  

And for some reason It always bothered me that she was the only girl, unless you read the books and then there is “Lottie” the otter.  (Sorry, if you have always thought Piglet was one, and I burst your bubble.)

Everyone's favorite bear.

And Pooh. . . Loves the sweet things in life, maybe a little slow, but he's always there for  you.  Even “a bear of very little brain” shows courage.

Gopher and his stick

Gopher's not in the book, but we see workaholics everyday.  His amazing network of tunnels. 

This would be the kind Heffalump.

This fellow looks sly.  

Don't forget those Heffalumps and Woozles “. . .because they covet everything thing you prize.”

These are not all the characters and if you see common links between life and the plushy stuffed creatures, then comment below to add them to the story. 

I hope you at least get a glimpse at what I see in these beloved children's books. 

Italian Scandals~

I have just finished reading "A Farewell to Arms," a 1929 book by Ernest Hemingway. 

Before I go on about the book, I feel I must mention the author and a bit about how his life might have influenced this story.  I am finding his biography on this website. Also info on his Nobel Prize.

Ernest Hemingway was born in Illinois in 1899,  at seventeen years old he started writing for a newspaper office in Kansas City.   Think about this!  At 17 yrs. old, he lived a whole state away from his hometown, and he was a paid writer.

After the United States entered the First World War, he joined a volunteer ambulance unit in the Italian army.  Serving at the front, he was wounded...    All this before even reaching twenty!  When you go to most high schools, and colleges, it's not likely that you will find a student ready to join a war, let alone for another country (learning to speak fluently) and serve at the front lines.  But in times as these it seemed not all that uncommon.

Understandable that he would write about a young American fighting for the Italian army, and give the character his perspective as an ambulance driver.

The clear morals (or lack thereof), of the main characters is very disconcerting and normally I wouldn't read such a tale of graphic depression, love, death, seduction, and pain.  Having said all this reading "A Farewell to Arms" for school is quite possibly the only way I would have ever read this book.  

Hemingway's "Heros" to put it loosely, are portrayed as strong and tough with good thoughts about intentions.  When confronted with the hardships of life, they are always losing hope and faith. . .  well more like the notion of trust in others, and concepts of some better life.  It is as if Lieutenant Frederic Henry, has seen the happy lives of others (although few characters in the book have such), and Henry desires their good fortune for his own, but refuses to become an upstanding moral person, highly principled and a thought to actions have consequences.  Even in the end, when Henry's life is crashing down around him, Ernest Hemingway doesn't allude to anything more, or remorse for choices, only Henry's bitter cry against death, man's struggle to prolong his life, and how one can only dull the pain throughout life and that is all.
This idea is seen through a powerful analogy at the very end of the story.  The problem I have with Ernest Hemingway's ending, is while he is a literary genius deserving of his Nobel prize,  I believe he missed a very important message that is woven through his story even though it is evident, the characters (and Hemingway himself) fail to see what is right in front of them.
A stronger hope, the life beyond our own, willingness to believe there is more then ourselves and even when we toil throughout life, life itself is greater then us.  An excellent literary example would be "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë,  where Jane is beaten down by life, has more then a rough time, but understands when given the choice of "anesthetic" (read Hemingway's book), even in longing desperately for an easier way, Jane choses to place her trust in God.  There is a stark contrast in these two books, one a dark tale of hopelessness and pain, the other while full of hardships gives sight to a deeper meaning in humanity and the comfort that one is never alone and is dearly loved.

Ernest Hemingway has written a detailed account of war, and perhaps he creates this feeling of defeat as a way of pointing to more.  My thoughts rest on that of redemption and a new tomorrow.  Reading "A Farewell to Arms" has given me a fresh look on life, and an understanding of other's pain an sorrows.  I hope it shows something to you as well.


The sun will come out tomorrow, 

Are you going???

Prom, Homecoming, Fall/Winter/Spring Formals, Holiday Dances, Galas, Balls, Costume Parties, you name it, and teenage girls will show up in short short dresses ready to dance.

Guys, I'm sorry I need to vent, so please save yourself the trouble and just read the sports blog at: http://hometowndiscount.blogspot.com/  Unless you want to attempt to understand the female mind.

Let's find out which type you will be for this dance.
Here is a list of problems, BEFORE you ever end up on the floor. (answer truthfully)

1. Shopping for a Dress.
    A."I just love shopping!" Not sure what I'm looking for...
    B. Mom wants me to use last my easter dress that still fits.
    C. I'm looking for the one I saw online, but could always use more!

2. You found a great dress but...
    A. The "perfect" dress is a 14, you are a 7.
    B. Your conservative and you can't wear that!
    C. It's so long you can't dance.

3. Are we going solo or do we have a "Date?"
    A. I'm going with my 5 besties, we shopped together too!
    B. You facebook/text making sure your friends are going.
    C. Wow! He asked, and he asked, but HE didn't till the day before!

4. Having second thoughts about the dance...
   A. I got asked out and... I just wanted to go with the girls.
   B. I have to drive a sibling???
   C. What? Second thoughts, no way!

5.  How to get to the dance.
    A.  My friend's older sister is driving... or her friend.
    B.  Mom and/or Dad will be driving.
    C.  Photo time at HIS house first!


If you answered...
Mostly A's: You are ready for a great nigh with what sound like great friends! Get out there and Dance!
Mostly B's: You sound a little stressed, it's fine, it's just a dance. Relax and have a great time!
(It's ok, I fall into this category a lot!)
Mostly C's: Sounds like someone has every dance planed from the morning till the last song ends!  Your eagerness will pay off, here's to a wonderful evening.
  

This was just a silly quiz, but I hope you get the idea.  If you don't want to go have someone make you, you will feel miserable!  Everyone else, GO, have fun, dance the night away, hang out with friends, what is the purpose of dances any way?  To enjoy friends and have fun!
(To anyone hoping for some profound answer, sorry there isn't, if you come one with one let me know at any time!  Really, I am always interested in deeper meanings and will likely be so happy I'll bake you cookies)



Hoping your shoes will serve you as well as Cinderella's did,

Mourning Water

Here is a story I wrote last year for my literature class.  The assignment was all about settings and bringing the reader into the scenes.  Enjoy! 

CooOOoo-woo-woooo. . .   The elegiac call of the dove penetrated the still silence.  A bitter gray mist clouded all vision as if a shroud was cloaking the still silent air.  The water, a dark and ominous color, lay morbidly still.  A shadowy forest loomed overhead, and the undergrowth was tangled and thorny.  Branches barely visible were groping though the murk, reaching out their decrepit gnarled fingers.  Wet haze wrapped around the figure, chilling him through to the bone.  He noticed the cold, sharp smell of damp morning air.  When breathing, the taste of forest and biting air inhaled ran harshly down his throat.  Vicious winds sprang-up piercing his face, keeping his ears, cheeks and nose numb.  Following the overgrown path to the waters edge, the traveler dipped his hand into the water.  Gelid liquid grasped the hand like it was trying hard to pull its trespasser farther down to the water’s bed.  Taking care not to slip on the moss-laden rocks and fall, he cautiously crossed to the far side of the cove; he stopped and looked around trying to get his bearings.  A camouflaged deer stared at him from inside a thicket.  Terrified, the deer ran off into the looming woods.  Taking from his pack the last hunk of dry bread, now green and molded, he hastily pitched the revolting, putrid crust.  Now starving, freezing and miserable there was nothing to do but to continue.  Rising, he walked blindly on, seeing objects just moments before impact. 

Suddenly a golden beam of hope, streamed through the fog, dissolving the haze before it.  In the in between moment where on one side, clear blue sky, the sun rising up in the east, a bright amber; the other side still cold and gray, murky vapor drifted farther away as the radiant sunlight chased it.  The water sparkled a moment with the newfound light in peaceful shades of blue and green, then transformed into a shimmering reflective mirror.  The stepping-stones resembled an emerald garland across the water.  A ray of sunbeams fell onto the roof of a small cottage.  A mouthwatering aroma of bacon, mushrooms and eggs, drifted out the chimney in the morning breeze.  The wanderer’s hunger vanished, with the sight of home.  Forgetting all fears and anxiety, the man walked briskly to the wooden fence surrounding the garden.  Effortlessly, he sailed over the gate.  Coming up to the front door, he called out to whomever was inside.  The door sprung opened with shouts of “He’s home, He’s home, Father’s home!”  Two children ran forward to meet a big bear hug.  A woman with a babe on her hip, stood at the steps, overjoyed to see her husband home.  She smiled at the little one’s ecstatic bursts of “What did you bring me?” and “We missed you.”  Glancing back, the man saw that what was once dark and dismal, now was happy and cheerful.  The enchanting trees rich in color and in might stood proud and calm.  Bushes were dressed with vibrant blooms.  Wildflowers that bordered the yard lifted their heads to the dawn.  A bird just waking to the morning light chirped a carefree tune. . . as if the night had never been and morning always would be.

iltechirate

Skype is a wonderful modern amenity!I really take advantage of this brilliant service, my grandparents who live in a far far off land, of two states away, get a chance to watch us grow up without compromising their health by traveling.  No this is no excuse not to have Christmas at grandmas this year!

I'm thinking the only way to get this kid to smile was to give him a huge plate of cookies!

 (as if any grandchild could skip out on grandma's gifts of Christmas sweaters and money, and even if your family doesn't celebrate this baby's birthday, I'm sure your grandparents are gift givers.)
Skype is just a way for the little sibling who can't remember grandma's house at all, to feel included.  Or that outfit that you want them to Oooo and Ahhh over.  
My Grandpa has recently bought a new Mac laptop. . .

And skypes my brother for computer help.  They'll talk for hours about screen sharing, chatting,  Pages,  Microsoft Word, and anything else just to delay my brothers math homework.  :)
 On the rare occasion when my brother isn't available, it gets passed on to me.  These last few questions I hadn't the foggiest grasp of a clue, but I was able to find them within 4 min.  (Yes, I'm very proud of myself).  So last night when he skyped me, he held up this dark square asking what it was.
               "This came in the box"  he said,  "what is it?"
Before I had a chance to reply,
               "No, honey that's your eyeglass cleaner!" interjected my grandmother.
               "I'm sure it came in the box! But I don't know what it is."  He countered.
The two went back and forth, until they had me rotfl. (literally) "Guys, I think it might be a wipe for the computer screen."

My mother added "Dad, your eyeglasses aren't that large!"  (think santa clause style, round and small)
Then came the friendly banter of "I knew it was a glass wipe!" "Well I knew it cam in the box!"
And then, right as we are skyping, in the middle of our conversation he takes the fabric square, and wipes the screen!  Oh tears were squirting out my sockets!  (Think of Steve, on Blues Clues wiping a paw print. . . and my babysitting jobs just all came back to me.)

Anyway,  enjoy these next few holiday months, go visit your grandparents!  Comment below if you have another way of spending time with your grandparents, or have a funny story about the technologically impaired.

Browsers and blue puppies,

Creams and Crusts

This cheesecake recipe was given to me by a dear friend,

 In case you want her blog:

http://hopelessromantic007.blogspot.com/2011/09/job-one-old-spice-american-trucks-and.html?spref=fb

This recipe is great for a mother's birthday, or special event.

Comment if you make any changes, I love using tips and suggestions!  Enjoy!

And this was her first attempt!  I wish I was this gifted!

❖Creams and Crusts ❖

A Cheesecake Recipe 

Cheesecake

2 c. sugar 3 T. flour  5 eggs 2 egg yolk

3 t. vanilla 1½ t. almond extract 5 (8oz.) cream cheese (soft)

Crust

1⅓  c. sugar 1 stick melted butter 

1 pk. graham crackers crumbs (a pk. contains about 8 graham crackers

Directions

Mix crust, place in 9 inch pan (spring form) at 350 for 10min.

Mix cheesecake, place in crust, bake at 425 for 15min. 

Then at 250 for 1hr. and 15min.

Remove and chill for at least 12hrs. 

Tips

• The cream cheese should be at room temperature (and soft) before you begin mixing, or you'll end up with lumps in your cheesecake.
• Do not overbeat your cheesecake batter.
• Cheesecake should be removed from the oven before it looks done, the center will appear jiggly. Cheesecakes become firm only after they’ve cooled and have chilled for several hours.
• When you remove your cheesecake from the oven, immediately run a thin knife along the edges, pressing the knife against the wall of the pan to loosen the top. This prevents cracking as the cheesecake cools and contracts.
• Do not cool your cheesecake in the oven. If the recipe calls for the cheescake to finish baking in a turned-off oven, do so. However, if you are to remove it from the oven, do not leave it in to cool.
• Do not attempt to remove your cheesecake from the pan until it has chilled overnight, at least 12 hours. This will ensure that it is firm enough to avoid breakage.
• To remove the cheesecake from the springform pan bottom, make sure the cake has been chilled in the refrigerator overnight. Place the cheesecake in its pan (with sides) over a burner set at low heat and turn it every 10 seconds until the entire bottom is warmed. This softens the butter in the crust, which will help release the cake from the pan.
• To remove the cheesecake from the springform pan sides, use a very thin knife that has been warmed by dipping in hot water and dried. Go around the edge of the cheesecake to loosen it using a slow up and down motion. Open the springform pan's ring. The cheesecake will slide easily on to a plate.

Packageless Pansy

This lily is from my own backyard.

“Learn from the way the wild flowers grow.  They do not work or spin.  But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them.” 

-Matthew 6:28-29

I am impatient!  No, terse is the correct word.  I have been waiting for what seems like months for a package.   I ordered some clothing from a website and the promised shipping date has changed twice!   Here at home we have had. . .  

Well, let me tell you the story.

            On a typical day bright and sunny, not suspecting a thing, my dear mother was started the grill for this new recipe I was going to try for dinner.   Several minutes later a brother asks,

“Mom, is the grill supposed to be smoking?”

Mom replies with an uhmm, I’m busy right now.

            “Um, Mom the grill is on FIRE! You might want to see this!”

Mom rushes to the grill and does the worst thing possible besides pouring oil all over the fire.  She opens the lid.

            Whoooosh

The grill is now ablaze; orange flames lick the racks clean of any morsels that were fixated on the metal. Heat protrudes from every angle, with enough passion to singe the eyebrows of any curious siblings that may or may not have been standing within a five feet radius.

            “CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!!” Yells mom as she slams the lid shut. 

(At this point in the chaos she calls for my capable younger sister, and for the sake of privacy lets rename her Jenny. Jenny's a good name. Now where were we? Oh yes, mom is yelling.)

“JENNY! Get water!”

While my brothers are running around laughing and pointing at the fire, Jenny knows what to do.  Jenny grabs two ice-cream buckets (in our house that’s gallon sized.) and drops one under a running sink and dashes to the bathroom and turns the handle for the bath.   At this point, I walk out on the deck, leaving my comfort of youtube and e-mails to assess the situation. 

            “CALL YOUR FATHER, CALL HIM!” mom was yelling and signaling to a brother handing him her cell phone.  Her spray bottle wasn’t even tickling the fire monster that had burst forth from our grill.  Another brother had dumped our drawers of potholders and had prongs in oven mitted hands, how he though this would help I have no clue.  The littlest one was prancing from person to person shrieking 

“The grill’s on fire!”

I swear, sometimes if I wasn’t here, nothing would get done.

            "ALRIGHT! We’re forming a line. You (pointing to the nearest brother), grab the buckets from Jenny.  You, help mom in putting out the fire.  You, stay off the deck and keep buckets coming.  And Jenny, fill them up from the bath."

I glanced at mom as saw that she intended to call the fire department, the bomb squad, and the N.O.A.H. services until this fire got out. 

“Mom, we don’t need a fire department, it’s under control.”

Mom stared at my flame happy brother pouring water all over the knobs, lid, burners (pretty sure your not supposed to do that), and grease pan.  And watched as the fire shrank in fear and steam hissed from the spot leaving a trail of soot.  Hey, at least he turned the gas off.   After calling dad and finding out he was on his way home.  Mom joined our fire brigade.

 It seemed like hours, but I bet it wasn’t even five minutes.  The fire was out, the grill was soaked and scalding vapor rose to the deck’s ceiling.  Chunks of chard ashes mixed with pools of water, and became greasy black slough and leaked through the floorboards to the patio below.  Thus the end of our once envied commercial series char-broil grill.  (And dinner wasn’t forthcoming either.)

The Grill in it's former glory.  And I don't remember why I took this?

What does all this have to do with my shocking lack of spiritual fruit?  

The insurance paid for the repairs on our grill, dishwasher, and stove (those are two stories for another time).  Every few days we have gotten packages, huge table sized, and little cereal bowl sized.  And all the while, my hopes are being dashed daily, in wait for the dresses I ordered.  Even today we got what makes package number seven for the handyman, with strict orders not to open them until he returns.  Why oh why did I order over Labor Day?

God Speed to you and all your packages,