Unfortunate Snobbery

It's a sad regret I have: I didn't make it out to pick my own blackberries this year. For the past two years, we have picked our own blackberries and strawberries and made the most fantastic freezer jam out of the pounds and pounds of fresh fruit. Now, with a heavy heart, I announce that you are looking at the last of our freezer jam...the final jar of sweet goodness...the end of a special indulgence I took for granted.

I used to be a loyal Smuckers fan - there weren't many snacks that I would choose over Ritz crackers smothered in peanut butter and touched with a smudge of Smuckers strawberry jam. But, now, I must sadly admit that I have become a bit of a jam snob. Smuckers doesn't curb my cravings...and...truthfully...I have a hard time even swallowing it. It has become a cheap imitation of the real stuff.

So, my sincere question is: are there any other jam snobs out there? And, if so, what type of jam do you like? Are there any good store brands?

Dutch Apple Bread

Sorry I've been so lazy in posting this recipe! A couple of you have asked for it, and all of you should try it because it is so, so, so good!

BREAD
1 cup butter/margarine, softened
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
4 cups flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
2/3 cup buttermilk
2 cups peeled, chopped apples

*Cream butter and sugar. Beat in eggs and vanilla
*Combine flour, baking soda, and salt in a separate bowl.
*Pour 1/2 of the flour mixture into the creamed mixture and mix well. Then, pour 1/2 of the buttermilk into the creamed mixture and mix well. Pour the rest of the flour mixture in, mix; then the rest of the buttermilk, mix.
*Fold in apples
*Pour in greased pan

TOPPING
1 cup flour
5 T. brown sugar
5 T. sugar
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
8 T. butter/margarine

*Combine all dry ingredients; cut in butter until crumbly; sprinkle over dough in bread pan.
*Cook at 350 for 50-60 minutes, or until toothpick inserted in middle comes up dry.

This makes 3 medium-sized loaves. I LOVE this recipe because I usually have everything I need on hand (as long as I have apples). Oh, for the buttermilk - if you don't have buttermilk sitting in your fridge, mix 2/3 cups regular milk with 2 tsp. vinegar before you start, and let it sit while you mix everything else together. By the time you need the buttermilk, your regular milk will be a little curdled - mix it up a little and there you go! Homemade buttermilk! :) I rarely use store-bought buttermilk anymore because this works just as well and then I don't have a bunch of leftover buttermilk going bad in my fridge! My grandma might be shamed...she loves to drink buttermilk straight out of the carton.

Apple Worms and Heart Worms

I mentioned before that the apples on our apple tree have ripened and turned into fantastic baking apples. Since then, I've been making apple bread almost as fast as I can eat it (which is doing wonders for my waistline) and as I was cutting into all those juicy apples the other day, I noticed something peculiar.

I picked up an apple that was rather disgusting-looking, fully expecting to throw most (if not all) of it away. But when I cut into it, I realized that the bruised part was really only a small fraction of the entire apple, and that most of it was perfect and delicious! So, I happily cut out the part that needed to go, and sliced up the rest of it to drop into my bread dough.



The next apple I picked up looked nearly perfect. No big bruises, no soft flesh, just two tiny brown spots. But when I cut into that apple, I noticed that there were tiny tunnels burrowed throughout the entire middle (I'm guessing the two tiny brown spots were the entry and exit points of a very hungry, happy worm). The entire apple found itself in the garbage.



Since my brain loves analogies so much, it started drawing a million lines of comparison between this apple-experience, and life in general. The first analogy that came to mind was the obvious one: outside looks don't always reflect the heart, and it's what's inside that really matters anyway.

But the second analogy that came was a little more hidden, and I haven't really been able to stop thinking about it for a few days now. Satan (like the worm) only needs a tiny, almost unnoticeable, entry point to be able to get into my heart and destroy what is there. I may not even notice the entry; I may not even feel the slight decay as he eats away what is most precious to me. This happens to me every so often - Satan weasels his way into my life and I find myself feeling...different...all the sudden. Most times I don't even know what is different until I start filling my heart with more spiritually uplifting things - kicking Satan out in the meantime.

It's unnerving to recognize, at that point, how much Satan had 'eaten' before I noticed him. Thankfully for me, my heart is different than an apple, and with the Saviors help can replenish and strengthen itself over time.

One of my best friends bore her sweet, simple, sincere testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ on her blog yesterday...and the beautiful way she described her life, in the eye of the public, touched me very deeply. The religious things I believe in are so special and sacred to me that I tend to hold those cards close to my heart. I take things too personally, and the thought of someone laughing at or mocking those things I hold most dear is almost unbearable. But reading Katie's testimony shined a little light into a shadowed part of my heart: the part that is eager and excited to share those things that bring me the most happiness in life. I noticed a little worm hiding there in those shadows, silently smirking for all the years he has kept me afraid. With the Savior's help, I hope to replenish and strengthen that decayed spot so that someday it will be as full and healthy as the spot that knows my Savior lives and loves me. That He has made it possible, through the sealing bonds of the temple, for me to be with my family forever.

Because it is these things that bring me the most happiness in life. And, though that worm has made my heart a little too weak to share it openly and energetically, I still feel the truth of it deeply and undeniably. Thanks for being such a great example to me, Katie!

NOT funny

It has been said that all good things must come to an end. And, so ends my days of never being stung by a bee. I've been through a plethora of emotions today post-wasp-sting. Confusion, pain, hurt feelings, anger, disgust, squeamish...notice a theme? NONE OF THEM ARE GOOD! I did nothing to those uncompassionate little pests, and they still got me.

I'm sure you're dying to hear the story - so, I'll go ahead and indulge you this once. (Okay, okay, so I like drumming up pity for myself sometimes.)

The fall weather has been just gorgeous lately, so we've been doing a lot of yard work, trying to tame the forest that surrounds us. Today was nice...a little humid because of the recent rain...but nice. The only problem we were having were with the blood-sucking mosquitoes that literally swarmed around us as we were working. We kept the bug-spray handy and reapplied as we felt necessary. Carson came out to join us after nap-time, so I started innocently making my way over to the bug spray to give him a little layer of protection. I was walking through the leaves, kicking them a bit so I could enjoy that wonderful sound they make, and scarcely noticed the 5 or 6 wasps swarming around a little patch at my feet. I've never really been scared of bees or wasps because they've never hurt me. I felt we had a little unspoken bond: I leave them alone, and they leave me alone. So I didn't mind them swarming around, and I kept kicking my way over to the bug spray. Seconds later, I felt a wasp hitting the palm of my left hand. I quickly swatted it away and almost immediately felt one in my right hand. I swatted that one away, too, and heard one buzzing right by my ear. I waved him away, but he still buzzed in my ear. I tried waving him away again, but he was persistent on staying right there by my ear. At this point, I realized that he was angry, so I started to run away - swatting and screaming the whole way. The wasp kept with my ear and suddenly darted in front of me, latched onto my lip and stung me! THE NERVE! My left eye started watering like crazy, and I kept running, screaming, and swatting...but that blasted wasp wouldn't leave me alone. So, I ran into the house, through the hall and into the bathroom so I could at least have a mirror as my ally. I saw the bugger still swarming around my head, but got to a point where I could slip out of the door and slam it behind me - locking the fiend inside. It didn't take long before my lip looked like this:

And the pain had traveled up through my upper lip, down my gums, and into three of my teeth! My heroic husband took charge and went outside with some bug spray to kill the rest of them while I watched from behind the safety of a big glass window, holding ice to my lip. It's been over 9 hours now and, just in case you're wondering, it still hurts!
My high school mascot is a wasp...and up until now I've always kind of sneered at that. But now, NOW I see the wisdom behind picking such a ferocious creature. A panther might be scary if you happened to see one face to face - but who is ever going to really see one? A wasp is a much more realistic fear to have...everyone runs from a wasp, and looks like a crazyman while doing so. And let me tell you, they can be PainFull! So, from now on, I will never look at my high school mascot as inferior. They are mean, clever, persistent and able to inflict pain in any creature.

But why, oh why, did it have to inflict pain on my LIP?

Funny -

Funny that I should have been so nervous to mow the lawn. And funny that it gave me a little thrill when I did it. I mowed my lawn. I mowed my lawn! Funny that I should be so happy about it.

I used to mow the lawn every week when I was a kid - and I remember being so terrified of the one, lonely tree standing on the side of our yard. It would menacingly drop it's branches underneath itself, terrifying me that a tiny twig shard would fly and lodge itself right into the white of my eye as I passed over it with that ridiculously fast, spinning blade.

Funny that I was scared of that one tree. I can't even count the trees in my yard now! (Well, let's be realistic...I probably could count all of the trees, but it would take a good afternoon to do so.) And now, I not only have branches to worry about, but apples. Hard, rotting apples that have fallen from the apple tree. (Whose branches, might I add, hang so low that I felt like I was fighting a losing battle as I crouched, danced, and shoved my way through them with our ancient lawnmower - they definitely left their disapproving mark all over my arms!)

I only got about a third of the yard done before Brian came and finished the fight. Our ancient lawnmower is wonderful because it was given to us by some good friends...but that's about all it's wonderful for. :) It protests at every turn, and every lengthy stride as we push it back and forth, mumbling encouraging words to it and gently stroking the rusty handle. It died 4 times in the 30 minutes I had it, and I had to reach underneath and unclog the blade each time.

But, it feels good to have relatively short grass, and the 'cut-grass' smell swirling into our home! I'll miss that smell in the next couple of months when all lawnmowers are tucked away for their own little hibernation. I fear, however, that our own lawnmower won't ever wake back up.

Funny that, when it does die, I think I'll miss it. We've kinda bonded.

Out with the old...in with the new!

I'm always a little sad to see a season end. And the summer of 2008 will forever be known as the summer of the peaches for me. I fell in love with peaches this summer! Ooooooo, the sweetness, the juiciness, the softness. How could you not love a peach? We bought case after case after case at Costco, and each one served us well. That is, until the last one (pictured above). The last case was full of mildly disgusting peaches that got stored up on top of the fridge and forgotten about for a few days...and, as I pulled the peaches down one day to see if they'd gotten better, I literally gasped at what I saw. I sadly realized that peach season had ended.

A few days later, a neighbor told us that we had deer visiting our apple tree in the middle of the night. I had wondered where all of my apples had gone! Being completely clueless about how to tell if an apple is ripe I figured, 'If the apples are ripe enough for the deer, then they're ripe enough for me!' and I took a basket out that very day and gathered all the apples I could find that weren't rotten.

They're quite sour when eaten by themselves, but baked into this apple bread, they were simply divine! I have never tasted an apple so juicy and flavorful when baked into a loaf of bread. Something weird happened to the buttery topping...it ended up in the middle of the loaf...but the taste, as a whole, was fantastic - I've had little else for breakfast and lunch the past couple of days. In fact, I couldn't even get a picture taken before half of one loaf was already gone!

There is something extremely satisfying about making something with home-grown goods. Next year, I will plant a garden.

And, with this, I wish to warmly welcome my favorite season - Happy Autumn!

Every Phase Better than the Last

There has been a tag going around my high school friends about what they were like during those school years. It's been fun reading all of my fellow Wasps' perceptions - especially because those who have participated so far were not the people I spent most of my time with. I've been tempted to play along, but I'm just not much of a 'taggette'...I find that I'm much too long-winded to answer simple questions, and I sit much too long in front of the screen thinking much too hard about each answer.

However,

every once in a while I compare my high school self to my present self - and the array of emotions that inescapably follow this type of comparison is overwhelming. In some ways, I am pleased. In some ways, I am saddened. In some ways, I feel lucky. In some ways, I feel chastened. In some ways, I feel embarrassed. In some ways, I feel like rejoicing.

I loved high school. I loved almost every part of it. At the time of graduation, I cried because I thought my life was ending. Where else was I going to find such great friends? such wonderful teachers? such security? Yes, I felt secure in high school - especially my senior year. I had friends whom I loved deeply - and who I felt loved me in return. Was I popular? No - not in the Homecoming Queen, Student Body President type of popular...but I was popular among the people who surrounded me - and I felt that they were all popular, too. We generally didn't care what other people were thinking about us, and that left us free to laugh and play and really enjoy ourselves. Let's not pretend there weren't hard times...practically my whole sophomore year was spent in tears over stupid boys (remember, Sarah?)! But, since we're speaking in general terms here, I was happy.

That happiness carried itself into college - and, in fact, whenever I start to think about my 'past' self, I think of this birthday card that Brian gave to to me while we were dating. Inside, he wrote, "I saw this card and thought immediately of you, with all the smiles & whatnot" and later "I hope you have a great day! (I know you'll say you did, even if you didn't!)" Why do I bring this up? Because, every once in a while, I worry that I've lost some of that carefree happiness.

Enter: my honest hubby! Last night I mentioned this concern to Brian by saying, "I just feel like I'm not really the same person you married."

He looked at me with a shocked expression and immediately replied,

"You're not! And I wouldn't want you to be!"

He helped me see that our life experiences have given us depth and an understanding of life. The memories of our sweet son have encouraged me to become more spiritual, and more focused on trying to better myself so I will be with him again. We have grown-up responsibilities that require physical and emotional demands. Brian helped me see that it's okay to not be joking around and laughing all the time, because we've tried to fill the gaps with depth. I may have lost some of my carefree happiness...but the happiness I feel now is so much deeper and so much more real!

I loved high school. I loved almost every part of it. But I just couldn't do it all over again - because now I'd know what I was missing. :)