B1, D2, 3307, 432

2 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 6:05 PM

[Enter blog side note statement AGAIN: I'm going to keep justifying the unorganized look of these posts until I figure out what I am doing wrong. Does anyone have pity for me and want to please tell me why the spacing is so ridiculous even after I change it? Why is this so difficult? Why? Why?]

Those numbers and letters represent all of my general addresses during my 4.5 years in college. My freshman year of college marked the point in my life when so many of my ideas of true relationships were turned upside down. That primarily began with my relationship with Jesus. To this point in my life, I had known Jesus. However, I had known Him as my "church" friend, as the one to turn to in crisis, as the one my parents recommended that I trust, and as the one who told me what to do and what not to do. I'm not even sure how I survived that relationship filled with rules and my idea of who He was. It took my relationship with the girls of B1 to change this.


My inaugural month at DBU was trying, as trying as trying gets for an eighteen year old. I had fallen in love with my nephews and niece throughout high school and was certain they would never remember me as I left them behind. I still frequently remind my nephew, now a ten-year-old who is getting too cool for auntie hugs and kisses, that he was my high school sweetheart. And I mean that--no boyfriends, all Gage! Anyway, I was definitely the girl that missed her parents also, though in college you act like you're cool and "loving" the new freedom.



I'm always shocked, amazed, astonished, and perplexed at how the Lord knows just what we need at just the right moment. The key to that is realizing that what He knows we need and what we think we need are often two very different things. (I'm still working on that "key" part.) However, when I moved into B1, He gave what He knew I needed and what I didn't know I needed then, and for the rest of my life. These ladies changed my idea of Jesus and cured my homesickness. We bonded like someone had poured Elmer's down our hallway. This time it wasn't Elmer's in its tangible form; it was the Elmer's that comes from the heart of Christ.


He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. Colossians 1:17

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Ashley A. was my roommate on B1. Who knew that a simple gap long-sleeved, striped shirt could bring together best friends for life? She's incredible in every sense of the word. Ask anyone who knows her!

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From the left:
AMY, with current and precious baby bump, is one of those people who is constantly smiling. She is such a kind-hearted person, and we are certain that she will be an amazing new mommy.

I'll tell you about ALICIA in just a couple of more pics.

ASHLEY D. is my solid, deep-thinking friend. She is a woman of God's Word and has been as long as I've known her.

ASHLEY A., you know what I think of her!

CORTNEE is one of the most thoughtful people that I know and is a girl of details which I love.
Poor Cortnee and I didn't get the A-name memo.
Here we are in all our "four years out of college" glory. We had some crazy, sweet times on B1. We did indeed!

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My sophomore year we moved up in the world (not really, it was basically the same room: square, tiny, old, tiled, ghost-like, haunted by Mary C. Crowley--normal dorm attributes) to D2, which we lovingly called R2D2. We lost sweet Ashley to UTA but were never really without her because she was our frequent, sleep- head-to-foot-with-me guest.


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Alicia was my new, adorable, patient-with-my-moodiness, roommate. In the first month of our rooming, she saw me through, with tears flowing daily like faucets, my first (and only) real breakup. Then, two years later, the Lord allowed me to return the favor. She is one of the most laid-back, caring, and loving people that I know. She has traveled the world and back to tell people about Jesus, and now she's sending others to do the same.

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When we moved in to apartment 3307, we were certain we had made it to the big leagues. The big leagues of Dallas Baptist University, that is. We lost Cortnee this time to off-campus living. She visited just about as frequently, but wouldn't agree to the head-to-foot sleeping arrangements. Strange...

CIMG3561--cropped
At apartment 432, I had made it full circle and was back with Ashley again. This time, minus purple carpet and twin bunk beds.

You want to know the best part? When we met up this weekend for a reunion, all of us in different cities all over Texas and in California, it was just like being back on B1. All that I could think the whole time as we giggled, reminisced, and celebrated the good and bad was that that Elmer's glue, it's more adhesive than I ever thought or dreamed.

Thank you, Jesus, for these incredible girls that You have used to mold me to look a bit more like You.

 

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I heart cooking.

3 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 6:34 PM

Week 5


Though I've made this recipe before, I basically ruined it the first time.  And by basically, I mean that it was almost inedible. Remember, I never claimed to be good at this cooking thing.  As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that I'm the exact opposite of good. But hey,  here I am on week 5, and still pushing through and practicing to make perfect. (I won't mention the fact that I've skipped a couple of weeks and should be on week 7. Whatev.)

The Pioneer Woman is, once again, the hero of this recipe.  Parmesan Crusted Chicken is its name and supposed delicious-ness is its game. 

My opinion for what it's worth:  The first time I made this, as mentioned in paragraph 1, it had a great flavor once you scraped the top off, which is pretty much why it looked and sounded delish.  The reason, in my mind, for its fault was that it did not have an exact measurement for garlic salt.  It just said "generous amount." Wouldn't that be a weird thing to put for a recipe?  Isn't generous to me different from (maybe it should say "different than"; ask Grammar Girl, not me.)  generous to me?  This time I put much less garlic salt, but it tasted the same.  So sad that I have failed again.  The good thing is that the hubs likes it even if he scrapes the top off every time.  The bad thing is that the top is kind of expensive with its sun-dried tomatoes.  Though I love to please the hubs, this makes it unworthy of the "I heart cooking" binder.  Darn it.  Another one bites the dust.

Recipe #2:  We'll call it Peanut Butter Brownie Cookies.
Am I an over achiever or what this Tuesday--pretty much a Monday thanks to Memorial Day--night?  I also made these delicious cookies.  The recipe is from another coworker.  Those coworkers of mine are really helpin' a girl out these days.  These might change your life, and by might, I mean the most definitely will.  If you're not a peanut-butter lover because your brother ate it by the spoonful and made you want to vomit, have no fear because these cookies can even help you overcome that.  Not enough to make you love Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and avoid being squawked at by the world.  Sorry, they're not miracle workers.

Here they are in all their glory.  (If I was as cool as Pioneer Woman, I would have pics to go along with these. Sorry, no coolness here.)

Chocolate Part:
1 box of regular fudge brownies (no added caramel, fudge, nuts, cookies, etc.)
1/4 cup melted shortening
4 oz cream cheese
1 egg

Mix all of this together in a bowl.  It's very sticky, and that's how it's supposed to look.

1 cup powered sugar
1 cup creamy peanut butter

Mix this together.  It's stick and creamy all at the same time.  (Don't lick your fingers or your spoon out of sympathy for others who don't like the idea of having just peanut butter in their mouths and bringing back horrible memories.)

Now roll the cookies into balls, and then make a little divvy in them by pressing down with your thumb. Place a small spoon full of peanut-butter mixture in the divvy.  Bake at 350 for 10-14 minutes.  After they are completely cooled, frost them with fudge icing.  (Though my mom would be ashamed, you can use it from a can.)

That's all I have for cooking tonight.  I've literally slaved over the stove for at least three hours.  Who is this girl anyway?

 

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Do you ever wonder what some people are thinking?

0 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 9:11 PM

Especially when they paint their car with polka dots.  I know what you're thinking.  And no, it's not a car that is advertising Dip 'n Dots.  There was no advertisement  to account for such silliness.  At all.  This person just thought it necessary paint their Nissan Versa in such a way that someone like me would drive around and take a picture of just how ridiculous it is.


 

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Kindred Spirits

2 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 3:54 PM

Traveling down the highway with my husband behind me in a Uhaul, I had no idea what the future held.  The faucet of rain pouring on the windshield and the tears streaming down my face were symbolic of the anxiousness that resonated in my heart.  I was a new wife, not having a clue how to be that.  I would be entering the city limits of my new home in a new state with a new job. I had left behind my roommate and the greatest friend that I had known. Though I was certain that it was supposed to be an exciting, joy-filled time, and there was indeed a tinge of excitement as a newly wed, it was the concept of change that had been my nemesis from as far back as my mind could go. 

I had two weeks to unpack my home before I had to move to unloading and setting up my classroom.  After unloading boxes and adding them to the already-furnished rooms, I only had a designated walking path to get through the 800 square foot apartment.  The two weeks flew by as I unloaded new dishes, new pans, new sheets, and all of the paraphernalia that a new wife registers for, not at all certain that it will ever be used. Then I began the same process in my classroom.  It's one thing to graduate from college and begin a teaching job with the state educational standards that you had based your career upon, but it's a whole new ball game to move to a new state and try to work through swamp of new standards while trying to just keep your head above water with everything else that is new. 

I'll never forget my first day to see my classroom.  It's not because the room was anything special because it wasn't.  It's just that I walked in to get my key only to be escorted by my principal to meet the coworker that he was certain I would "connect" with.  At this point in my somewhat bitterness to the new-ness that surrounded me, making a connection was not a top priority.  I just had too many other things to consider.  He introduced me to Natalie, a young, cute, and peppy teacher that, I can now jokingly say that I was certain that she was too adorable and cool to be my friend.  Little did I know that the Lord had other plans.  You know, the plans He makes to prosper us and not to harm us but to give us a hope and a future.

It was her second year at that school, and she willingly answered the never-ending questions that began and ended every conversation for the next couple of weeks.  We clicked, and we did it quickly.  That school year, filled with frustrations and the idea that "this career is not for me," was what I needed more than anything.  I needed it so that I could look back and say that even in the midst of what was the worst teaching year of my life, the Lord was sweet and gracious enough to provide a friend, a shoulder to lean on and vent to, a running partner, and a piece of quickly-developed familiarity that would help ease the perpetual list of newness. Natalie has told me multiple times, in her sweet and humble manner, how much she needed my friendship.  I always laugh at this, knowing I needed her so much more.  The best part is that neither one of us knew it at the time.  We were kindred spirits.

We completed our half-marathon goal.  We were slow, but we finished!

These pictures are why we click.  She came all the way to my neck of the woods this weekend, and this is how we spent some of our limited time.  We're goofs, and we're both okay with it!


P.S. Natalie's one of my two readers, so she has a special place in my heart for this reason too!  I love you, Natalie!

 


 

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This is pretty much my life, correcting the mishaps that texting has caused.

0 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 8:01 AM



I'm not bitter. I just needed for the world to know that abbreviations for words should only stay in the realm of your phone and not on your persuasive essay, research paper, descriptive essay, or any type of formal writing. And sometimes it's not even okay on emails. Gasp. I'm just sayin'.


 

Everything you need to know, you learn in a small town.

0 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 7:15 PM

That's probably not true, and by probably, I mean not at all. However, there are some things you can learn from them. We'll get to that in a second. For right now, I have to give you some background.


Background: I grew up in a small town. The term small is relative, so when I have to justify its small-ness to people, these are the things that I tell them:
  1. You haven't heard of it? Shocking! It is the "Leather Goods Center of the Southwest" -- Nocona Boots and Nokona Athletic Goods. (Justification: Nokona baseball gloves are famous.)
  2. Within it, there lives 2500 people on a good day. (Justification: However, this does not include the "lake" people, so it might be a bit bigger. When I was in high school and couldn't "own" its smallness, then I would say that.)
  3. There's no Wal-mart, but there is an Ace Hardware.
  4. Two red lights. Yep. Just two.
  5. 16 people in my graduating class. (Interesting fact: we were known as the big, unruly class. Why, you ask? Well, there had been classes with TWO, count 'em TWO students.)
  6. There's no McDonalds, but there is a DQ. (Justification: It was the #1 DQ in Texas at one time. It's Texas' stop sign, and I think my hometown is why!)
  7. The nearest mall: 45 minutes. It's a tragedy.
I really could come up with so many more, but I'll spare you. I just need for those of you that have no real small-town-living history to understand that it's a culture. Now, this is not something you realize until you're gone and living in cultured areas, but it is, I tell ya (say that like you live in a small town). It is. There's something extraordinary about this culture, so much so that when I visited my parents this past weekend I took some notes on my phone about all the kinds of things that one might find. If I hadn't searched for my camera and not found it in my purse until I got home, then I might have some pics to prove some of this stuff. The Lord must have had something against my teasing (I almost put making fun of, but thought that would be rude) of the truth behind these folk. Here they are, things you can learn/see in a small town, in no particular order:
  1. You can use your visit to get your two-month-old inspection done. When you do, the lady will take about 3.2 minutes, and it will only cost $14. Then when you act shocked at how quickly it went (you know in the city this would have taken a minimum of 12 hours), she says this in a straight-up redneck voice: "It's Friday night quittin' time, so we don't mess around." I have nothing against her or her country-ness, after all it's my neck of the woods; it was just funny! Dang I wish I had a pic.
  2. At the most precious niece's and nephew's baseball games, you think you see the whole town. At least the classy ones, like the guy with the mullet or the guy, and by guy I mean grown man, without his shirt on strutting around like he's all that (you also learn to say things like that).
  3. At said baseball games, an announcement is made that goes something like this, again with the accent: There's a white F-250 with two saw horses blocking someone in.
  4. Wearing your boots tucked in your pants as a grown man is cool.
  5. It's okay to park in the middle of the street and partake in conversation or just literally park there. After all, there are plenty of people that will go around you because it's apparently a new traffic law that makes this okay.
  6. Wearing rhinestones in every location and according to any unthinkable design is a new fashion trend.
  7. Wearing denim from head to toe is also apart of this fashion trend.
  8. Having kids as quickly after you are married as possible is the thing to do.
  9. Big trucks=manliness
  10. A clean car soon becomes a dirty car. The concrete is so much less plentiful.
One might think this is judgmental, but this is why I feel justified: I WAS SOME OF THESE PEEPS FOR 18 YEARS. I enjoy going home, but it's not for the town though. There's these precious little peeps there that make me happy and are so excited to see me that I feel like I'm Paris Hilton, except I have on more clothes.

 

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Dear Blog,

3 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 2:56 PM

[Enter blog side note statement:  I have no idea why the first paragraph is spaced differently.  As a matter of fact, blogspot makes me feel COMPLETELY computer illiterate, no matter the machine that I'm on.  If you have any tips about how to work this ridiculously, non-user-friendly thing, then I would greatly appreciate it.  So would my other two readers.  If not, thanks to my good friend LynnAnn, I'll be purchasing THIS.]

Now onto the more important stuff.  Reread the title or this won't really make sense.  (As if it will anyway...)

I've missed you.  Even in just a month since our meeting, I've decided that I kind of like you.  I like that I pretty much write to you and only you because the rest of the world hasn't realized how fun we are. Someday when we have more than two fans (or maybe some offspring to tell about), our self-esteem will be built, and we won't be able to spend a day apart.  In the mean time, we just stick with this few and far between stuff.  It's funny, with this new relationship of ours, how much I think about you, how much I can think of things that I want to tell you (and our two readers).  It's just that I have this thing, well these two things, they're called a job and a husband.  They both require some time. One I don't mind giving it to, and the other I do grudgingly.  

I do need to share our other new friend though; we'll leave her unnamed until we can thing of something clever.  She's so perfect and sleek; isn't she?  She has made life, even in less than 24 hours of partnership, so much easier.  We no longer have to wait for the hubs to get home to hang out. She makes even the mundane seem exciting, and get this, she adds appeal to house cleaning with her beautiful sounds and music.  Here is one of the ways we were introduced:



It was his style, his cool, not-so-nerdy style that won us over start loving her and desiring her friendship. His promise that she would make life a bit easier and his way with words that ultimately did the trick.  This is how our new friend came to us:


And this is when we knew it was love at first site:


We'll all be spending so much time together, the greatest of friends we will be.  If only she had a name...




 

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It makes me happy. That's all.

2 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 4:40 PM


As previously mentioned, I spend a lot of time telling kids that every sentence contains a verb. And that every prepositional phrase must start with a preposition.  And that every sentence ends with some form of punctuation.  And on and on and on (say that like the teacher on Charlie Brown).  Now, I don't claim to have every rule and every tid bit of grammar down, but I like it.  Yes, I like grammar.  I like that it makes a person sound educated when they understand it even if they're not.  I like that you can find hidden mistakes, like looking for Waldo, in published works.  I like that I like it even though it's a logistical kind of "thing", and I'm terrible at anything to do with logistics.  I like that I can tell my kids that I knew a guy that wasn't getting a promotion in a major corporation because his grammar was so poor.  I just like it.  It makes me happy.

As stated, I have a long ways to go.  I constantly question my own grammar abilities because it's kind of my career.  But then I ask myself, self I say,  "Does a truck driver ever question the route he took?  Does a carpenter ever cut the 2x4 too short?  Does a mechanic ever order the wrong part?  Does an engineer ... well, I don't know anything about them, so never mind.  Does a doctor ... let's not go there.  Does a photographer ever capture a picture with terrible lighting? Does a student ever fail a test?" Then myself tells me that the answer is Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Then I ask myself, "Do they then give up because of these mistakes?"  No!  No!  No!  No!  And this is why I will write, and when I have it down to perfection, I will let you know.  (Don't stand around waiting; your legs will surely get tired.)

In the mean time, when books like Grammar Girl: Quick and Dirty Tips come in the mail, I get happy.  I even like Grammar Girl herself.  It's nerdy, I know.  But there are two reasons why I don't care about nerdiness.  The first is that I spent junior high and high school working so hard not to be nerdy, and the other side is highly overrated and way too much work.  The second is that it gives my husband funny jokes for his messages to students when he tells them that I like to read and that I even read grammar books.  The students laugh and gasp and point.  Do I care? No.  Why?  See reason number one!

Oh and by the way, I'm working to get my English department to order shirts that say "Good Grammar is Hot."  Laugh.  Joke.  Point.  Remember, your doing all of that at your computer.  Who's the nerd now?

 

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I heart cooking (aka opening cans and packages and adding some spices).

1 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 12:33 PM

There will be no recipe posting this week, unless I come up with a really good way to make beans and rice. We want to Be the Message.

 

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I heart cooking.

0 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 2:46 PM

Week 4

Chicken Almodine
  • 1 can Cream of Chicken soup
  • 8 oz. sour cream
  • 3 breasts of chicken
  • sleeve of Ritz crackers
  • small bag of sliced almonds
  • bag of egg noodles
Boil the chicken.  (Recently learned tip: the chicken is ready when it floats to the top.  Who knew?  My mom was a beef lady.)  Shred the chicken.  Mix the sour cream and soup.  Add the shredded chicken to the sour cream/soup mixture.  Spread the items in a 13x9 baking dish. Crush Ritz and sprinkle on top.  Melt butter and spread over crackers.  Sprinkle almonds over the dish. Bake 350 for 25-30 minutes or until bubbles.

My opinion for what it's worth:  I am copying this dish from a paper towel; it's classy, I know. It was given to me by a coworker who wrote the recipe during lunch hence the paper towel.  It's almost the exact recipe for poppyseed chicken, but the poppyseed has been replaced with almonds.  I promise, this is yummy.  You can either eat the egg noodles separately, or serve them under the chicken dish.  The almonds give a great crunch. You won't be disappointed. Even the hubs liked it, and that's saying a lot for my Whataburger-loving husband.

It's going in the binder!  Fo shizzle.


 

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When you mix a two year old, a Mac, and an aunt and uncle looking for entertainment...

2 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 1:22 PM

The best part is that the sweet baby was so entertained by seeing himself on "video" that he just allowed these mean people to take pictures and laugh at his expense.  I'm not sure who these mean people are, but when I find them, they'll be sorry!








Now for the really funny stuff.  The sweet kid has a great vocabulary and is exceptionally easy to understand for a two year old except when it comes to the word fork.  Watch.  See.  Laugh. We love this kid.  A lot.
Word Mishap #1:


Word Mishap #2:



Someday we'll have our own entertainment, but for now, he's accomplishing that task.  Doesn't he do it well?

 

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This is what happens...

1 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 8:06 AM

when you move into an apartment complex where the left side forces kids to go to the district in which you are employed, and the right side forces them to go to the next town over.  In your naivete, you choose the left side.  Why?  Well, you're attracted to the idea of being close to the clubhouse, which probably means less of a building view and more of a "homey" view. 


 
See the clear, crystal-blue water calling our name right from our very own balcony.

[Insert Stupid Side Note #1:  Why, when you are living in an apartment, do you make a desperate attempt to make it less than what it is?  Whether you can trick your mind or not, you are still living in a building with people every where around you, and though you don't intend to be judgemental, the people are not always the classiest of folk.  You know what I mean???]

Anyway, so you choose the left side for the impeccable view and well, you're cheap (hence the apartment-living in general) and the idea of free Internet via the clubhouse is really, really appealing.  However, no one tells you until a month or so into your humble (which also happens to be the name of your district employer--so pun definitely intended) abode arrangement that you are likely to be surrounded by your students.  Yes, your eighth-grade, hormone-ridden, strange-acting, teacher-hating students.  This can be a good or bad thing because you might actually like ONE of the four or five that live within touching/seeing-on-a-regular-basis distance of you and enjoy seeing her, but then there's the part where the rest of them are boys that you frequently discipline which is likely to cause you to have to pray frequently that they never, never ever figure out which car you drive or which door is actually yours amongst the plethora of doors.  (Even though in the middle of your lesson on adjective clauses, you are asked what your apartment number is and whether or not you and your husband would be willing to hang out with them on the weekend by throwing around a ball. Really?  I would rather __________. [Please fill in the blank with anything miserable in your life.]

But then, this is what really annoys you the most about this arrangement:  You are so excited about keeping your sweet, amazing little nephew.  You rush home from this job of yours, call the hubs on the way to see if he would be willing to take the little tike swimming.  You walk up to your door (which is another great thing about apartment life--living on the second floor, but I'll save that vent for another time), change the little guy, put on your newly purchased swimming attire, wait for the hubs to put on his attire, walk down to the pool (which as mentioned before is very, very close and you think you like this). 

Look at this sweet, innocent, wanting-to-go-swimming face.

As you're approaching this "resort-like" pool, you peek through the trees that give this less of an apartment feel, and you see him.  Him.  Yes, him.  The boy from your class in his swim trunks.  The boy that is a decent kid and you like sometimes, but you never ever ever really want to see him in any less apparel. More than that, you never ever ever ever ever want him to see you in less apparel.  The very last thing you want is to be teaching punctuation or "Flowers for Algernon" and for him to be thinking of you in your swimsuit, which is basically just a form of a bra and underwear made from some less lingerie-like material. 

[Insert Valid Side Note #2: Said student may or may not have been in alternative school the first semester of school for threatening to kill another student.  And he may or may not have moved from the 'hood of inner-city Houston.  But whatever.  You're not scared.]

Once this is realized, you have two choices:  1.  To allow just the hubs and nephew to swim, and you "enjoy" the view from the side in the 200 degree weather that is really like 300 degrees thanks to the sweltering humidity.  This alternative is not good for the above mentioned HEAT, and it would still allow him to know that underneath your cute little Target swim cover-up you are wearing a swimsuit.  Then, heaven forbid that you actually have to have a conversation with the guy outside of school.  or  2.  You walk back up the stairs with a disappointed husband and nephew hoping that they (students in pool) never saw you and never bring this up in the middle of the lesson.  However, you're not so lucky.  As you've chosen choice number 2, you hear the dreaded words ricocheting off the trees, "Hi Mrs. Whitley."  You'll be preparing the rest of the weekend for how you will lie about why you didn't swim even though you had towels in hand and swimsuits on.  My nephew was fussy.  My nephew had a dirty diaper.  My husband suddenly came down with the Swine Flu, and we had to evacuate the area.   IMMEDIATELY.  

This is the exact reason why you should either  A: Do your research before moving into an apartment complex if you're a teacher.  B: Never move into an apartment complex.  C: Never be a teacher.

[Insert Justification Side Note #3:  I really love my students.  I just don't want to see them outside the confines of a school building.  Ever.  That's all.  Really, I do.  I love them.  I promise.  They're great.  I think.]

 

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I heart cooking.

0 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 1:36 PM

I think. Actually, this is my form of reverse pshychology. I really don't enjoy cooking, but I do enjoy eating and really want to be a better cook for my hubs and future kiddos. As with anything, I know that it takes practice. The problem with cooking is that the practice part also requires you to practice finding what to cook and to practice cleaning, too. I don't need any practice with that. I've got it down. I think. Those are two of the aspects of cooking that make it unloveable. With the good of anything you practice, there always comes some bad, right? 

If you want to be a good teacher, you certainly have to endure a first year of chaos and some difficult students.

If you want to be a good wife, you certainly have to be willing to to give up some things that you used to feel are worth dying for so that you can please the hubs.

If you want to be good at grammar, you have to endure some learning of rules. (I've probably said that a few times to a few 8th graders.)

If you want to become a good half marathon runner, you certainly have to endure the running part.

(These all have to do with my life, though I'm certain I am still working towards the good part in all of them. Except for maybe running, I'm not even trying to be good!)

Because of this desire of mine, I made a "New April's Resolution". I'm allowing (and by allowing I mean making) myself try one new recipe a week to be placed in a "I heart cooking" binder. This madness comes from my desire to heart cooking and to have enough recipes to not make tacos every week. This has probably been happening in some homes, some where. Not mine. Nope.  Never.  Ok, it has. I confess. Tacos were our number one, over-made recipe. Give me some credit; I did mix it up: chicken tacos, beef tacos, low-fat beef tacos, ground turkey tacos, soft tacos, hard tacos.  With this resolution, I desire two things:

1.  To be a better cook
2.  To have more than two recipes in my repertoire  

I'm getting there, but I have a long ways to go.  Many of these have come from The Pioneer Woman, another blog that I stalk.  She has pics of the process and end product which helps decide if I want to make it and if I will like it.  It's beautiful.  Check it out.  Here's what I've gotten so far:


Week One:


My opinion for what it's worth:  (If you're like me, you're much more likely to cook something if someone else says they like it.  It's like the peer pressure you felt to curl your bangs ridiculously high in middle school; everyone else said it was cool, so you did it too.)  This lasagna was so great.  I have made homemade lasagna before from the Italian lady on the Food Network.  Three words: Too Much Work! This lasagna was fairly easy (not as easy as tacos but whatever) and yum, yum, yummy! We had dinner guests that night, and they gave many compliments to the chef, which was me by the way.  Check mark!

This particular night I also made Yellow Cupcakes (from scratch!) with Sticky Chocolate Icing. The problem with these is that the cake part tasted more like cornbread.  It's just too weird to eat cornbread with chocolate icing.  Needless to say, they won't be going in my binder.  Dang. I wasted some Godiva chocolate baking bars.  Live and learn.

Week Two: 

Nothing.

Give me some credit here, I tried two recipes the first week.  I'm not a failure at this.  Yet.

Week Three:  


My opinion for what it's worth:  They were good.  However, they're definitely not Chuy's or any decent Mexican restaurant for that matter.  They're pretty easy though, so I'll add them to the "I heart cooking" binder.

I also made Orange Mini-Muffins.  Two words: MMMM Good.  I took them to school, and though the didn't all get eaten, I am still putting them in the binder.  I liked them, and isn't that what matters?  (Hubs was out of town, so he missed the delicious-ness of these goodies.) 

I have one more week to add, but this is getting entirely too long.  Next time.  It's delish as said by hubs and me.  (And the person from whom I got the recipe.)

 

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