Coffee With Jesus

Those of you who read me last year know that I've got me some religion.   I wrote a whole post about my "coming to Jesus"story (it's ridiculous and not in the least enlightening, but if you want to read it go ahead and click here).  Religion- or rather, spirituality- is something that I've carried with me for almost my whole life.   Um, actually if we're being honest, sometimes I've carried it and other times I've put it down and walked away, though never completely.  I usually stop and sheepishly inch back towards it, biting my nails and throwing furtive sideways glances the whole time before picking it up again and hurrying along on my way.

However, I can't quit it, because when you get to the bottom of it all, I've seen beauty in terrible things and I know there's order in the world's chaos and I've witnessed "coincidences" that I know were not coincidental but divinely designed.  I know that the bible says to help each other and to love each other, and I know that when humans practice this, good things happen.  I believe that all this is God.

But that's just me.  You can do your thing, and that's fine with me.  Maybe it's the public school teacher in me, but I don't have a problem with people having different beliefs.  As a Facebook friend of mine put it, "Leave children and animals out of it, and we're cool".  I think that philosophy, combined with the whole "actions speak louder than words" thing, is a good way to go.

Anyway, (I've gotten way off course)  I didn't sit down to write about Jesus tonight.  At least not directly.  What I wanted to write about tonight was faith.  Here's what I want to say about it:  it's hard.

I mean, it's really hard.

Here's the thing:  I love God, but you know, life is often confusing and I get frustrated sometimes at how elusive and invisible this guy is who's running the show.  Why can't he make an appearance once and a while and let us rest assured that he's definitely there and watching over us?  What's with the big mystery?  Here's what I would like.  I would love, love, love it if he would come down every once and awhile and have a little meet and greet with me, one on one.  We could meet up at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf.  He'd order something clean and pure, like a White Jasmine Tea and although I'd really want something like a White Chocolate Mocha, I'd downgrade it to something less sinful- like a coffee of the day.  He'd do that miracle thing and refill my cup when it was empty, and by the time we finished chatting I would feel equally enlightened and caffeinated.

This is what I would ask him:  How am I doing?  Am I a better person than I really think I am, or am I worse?  Am I doing any permanent damage to my kids?  Is it really THAT big a deal that the kids eat their vegetables, because the daily fights at the dinner table are killing me.... so can I lay off those?  How am I doing as a wife?  Did I choose the same guy that you chose for me?  If I didn't, is the whole universe going to be affected somehow?  Thank you God, by the way, for my kids.  They are amazing.  I am learning so much and I really do get that they are gifts from you.  How about my stepson?  How am I doing with him?  How much more should I worry?  Or should I stop worrying?  Tell me what to do with him.  Have I been a good enough friend?  I haven't, have I?  I'll get right on that.  Can you help me learn to listen better?  I talk about myself too damn-oh sorry- too dang much.  One last thing Lord.  Tell me, really- what does happen to those lost socks in the dryer?

I realize that I might've taken on a flip tone here.  Truly, my intention is not to be blasphemous.  I'm just trying to relate to you the difficulty I have with faith.  And to point out that we all need encouragement.  We need pep talks.  It'd be nice to know which of what we're doing is right and which of what we're doing is wrong.  The guesswork can be exhausting.

This whole thing reminds me of this really beautiful quote from the movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button".  It says "Life must be lived forward, but can only be understood backwards."  To me, that's a really eloquent way of saying "figure it out for yourself".  A huge part of the human experience, that part that shapes our character and our choices, is the fact that we're moving forward blindly, not knowing how things are going to play out.   And I suppose, if I was to be really honest with myself, I'd have to admit that to know all the answers ahead of time would be to grey out the colors, the feelings, the emotions, of our daily life experiences.  It'd be like reading the ending of a story and missing out on the weaving of the tale.

So I guess what I've learned through this whole little rant of mine is that Faith is a gift, also.  Jesus doesn't show up for coffee because (duh) he's letting us learn and grow and experience life on our own.  That's fine.  Doesn't mean I don't want that chat anyway.  I really would like to know what happens to those socks in the dryer.

You all have a good night.

Excuses, Excuses (And Some Inspiration)

Wow.

I don't know.  Do I owe you an explanation?  There isn't really a good one.  I just got..... uninspired, I guess.  Writing started to feel like a drag, and it got much easier to park my kettle chip butt on the couch every night and watch Instant Netlix on the Wii.  (Do any of you have that? I think it's one of the decade's best inventions, discounting the fact, of course, that it's sucked away all of my creative drive. But other than that it's been dreamy.   I've gotten all caught up on the early seasons of Dexter, The Tudors, Weeds, and Cake Boss.  Sweeps Season?  BRING IT, baby.  )

So, yes.  Let's blame Netflix Wii.  While we're at it, we can also blame the fact that I stopped exercising, started complaining a lot, and continued to spend massive amounts of energy hating the cat.  None of these things are helpful to the creative process.

Slowly however, I started getting little sparks of inspiration here and there.  This post from Big Mama about love overcoming pettiness was a kick start.  It really is a beautiful post, and I wish you would click on over to it and see for yourself.  Then I read this post from This Is Reverb about creativity and depression, and I started to wonder if the Universe was talking to me again.  Then I discovered this blogger at HerBadMother, and have become obsessed with her.  I love her.  She writes my thoughts, but more beautifully than I ever could.   Plus, she has this thing called "The Basement", where people can anonymously guest post about whatever they want/need to and let. me. tell. you.... there is some juuuuuuuuicy good stuff in there.  I can see myself getting addicted to The Basement, and I already have a whole slew of topics that I may submit, the first of which is a nice long rant about a certain household feline. (But in keeping with the whole anonymous thing, you didn't hear it from me)

Anyway, during all this, things were also happening in my life, and little by little I started to realize that I wanted to write about them again.  Like when all this stuff with the teacher's unions in Wisconsin was happening, and I SO wanted to get up on my Teacher Talk Tuesday soapbox again.  Or like when Roo sent me into a fit of hysterical embarrassed laughter when she addressed our water guy as Santa because he had a white beard, and I spent the rest of the day mentally writing a funny story about it.  Or like when this person on Facebook, who I didn't even know, started an argument with me on my friend's page. I took the high road with her, but what I really wanted to do was to write to you guys about all the ways that she was lame, and most importantly, wrong.  Or like when there was an unfinished conversation that came up and I wanted to poke and prod at it some more, just cuz I think it was a conversation worth finishing.  Or when I made my dad's famous chili and realized it probably would've been a good cooking post.  Or when I read The Hunger Games and even though I haven't written a book report in over a decade, wanted to do one anyway because it was THAT good...

I could go on and on and on, but you get my point.   Things are happening.  I want to write about them.  I'm going to give this another shot.  So bear with me.  After all, how hard can it be to stay motivated if the worst thing in my life is a hateful cat?

Perhaps I shouldn't be asking questions that I don't want to know the answer to.  

You all have a good night.

Candy Cane Fudge

Hey all.

Where've you been?  I've been looking all over for you.

Kidding.  Just thought I'd try some reverse psychology.

I haven't been writing for the same reasons I wrote about the last time when I explained why I haven't been writing.  Busy.  Tired.  Angry.  Plotting against the cat.

Someday I'll write a whole post about me and the cat.  I'll title it "Poor Kitty".  It'll be an ironic title, because 'Poor Kitty' is just what everybody says when I try to explain why I hate our cat.  No one ever says, "Oh, that animal sounds retarded and exhausting.  It must be so irksome and annoying having to co-exist with it."

Cuz that's what I want people to say.

Instead, for some reason they always say "Oooooooohhh!  Poor kitty!"

That damn cat has everyone fooled.

Anyway.  I haven't been writing, but since the major networks are through with Sweeps Week, I thought I'd at least try to get one Christmasy post in this month and share with you a really easy and yummy recipe for Candy Cane Fudge.  I make it every year for my kids' teachers, my neighbors, and anyone else who I love and appreciate in my little circle of the universe.

I'd give some all to you guys if the internet cloud allowed things like that, though if we give it a few years it'll probably be a possibility.

Let's get started.  Here's what you need:

In case my amazing photography skills don't make it immediately obvious, that's one package of candy canes, 2 10 oz. bags of vanilla baking chips, 1 can of sweetened condensed milk, 1/2 teaspoon of peppermint extract, and red food coloring.

You may also want to include a little helper.  Here's mine:

We call him J, aka Bubbas.  We like him.  

(Most of the time.)

So here's what you do.   Choose a casserole dish that's around 8 or 9 inches in length and width. Wrap some foil around it. 

Let your helper grease it up real good.  Get the corners too.  That's important.  

Now here's the hardest part of the whole recipe.  No other recipe or website in the whole entire world will mention this because it sounds so simple, but I am here to give you a heads up and validate your experience when you too, are faced with the annoyance that is unwrapping cellophane from 12 individual candy canes.  

Those suckers stick to your hands.

   

Get off already!

Sheesh.  The nerve of some cellophane. 

Glad that's over.  Now we can move on to the easy stuff. 

Put all those candy canes in a plastic bag and grab the nearest blunt object.  I used a rolling pin.  

Start crushing. 

Whee! Being destructive is fun! 

Seriously.  What is it about destruction that's so appealing?  I made J hand over the rolling pin so I could have a turn at whacking the candy canes.  It felt good. 

I may or may not have pretended that I was whacking the cat.  

Anyway.  Now you empty the vanilla chips and sweetened condensed milk into a medium saucepan and stir over medium heat.  Right before it's completely melted you need to take it off the heat.  Keep stirring it.  It'll look like this:

When it looks like this, add the 1/2 teaspoon of peppermint extract:

Then you stir it up, little darling.  Stir it up. 

Sorry.  We're almost done.  

Last, you add in the candy canes and a dash of food coloring:

Now, last year I only added one or two drops, stirred it lightly, and ended up with a real pretty red and white marbled effect.  This year, a certain little helper got a smidge liberal with the food coloring, so my fudge turned out this color:

No matter. 

Spread it into the foil lined casserole dish, sprinkle a few renegade candy cane crumbs along the top, and refrigerate for at least two hours. 

At the end of the two hours, remove from the fridge and cut into 1 inch blocks. 

Delicious. 

Someone told me last year that they made this with dark chocolate chips and that it was divine.  THEN, today I had what I think may be a brilliant idea.  What if we put a teaspoon or two of ground expresso in the mix with dark chocolate chips and made Peppermint Mocha Fudge?  You know- like the Starbucks Holiday Drink?  If any of you guys decide to give that a try, be sure to let me know how it turns out.  

As for me, I'll probably be making an extra batch of this this year in case Animal Cruelty gets wind of this post and comes knocking on my door.  You think they accept bribes?  

Have a good night! 

  

 

The Facebook Status' (or Statuses? Status's? Stati?) That Never Were

Hi guys.

Last year, when I wrote my posts, I wasn't working.  Well, I was tutoring in the evenings, but I wasn't working during the day which means my kids weren't going to daycare, and I wasn't spending all day every day in a crazy rush from place to place.  Therefore, usually something would happen and it'd occur to me that I'd want to write about it, so I'd spend the rest of the day more of less writing the post in my head.

This year, as I just said, my life feels nuts.  I actually thought that once my kids started going to school full time, I'd be less busy.  (In fact, I said this out loud to one of my Texas relatives over Thanksgiving last week, and she flat out laughed in my face).  Somehow, my time has gone the way of my bank account- it feels like I should have more, but when I look at the cold hard reality of things, there's never as much there as I feel there should be.

It's a sad thing (but a darn good metaphor, if I do say so myself).

My point is that I never have a moment to mentally write posts anymore.  The only things I mentally compose are my Facebook status's.  And lately I've been in such a foul mood that the one's I've come up with aren't even fit to be posted.  I fear people would defriend me, or at least stage an intervention for my anger issues.  Here's just a few from the last couple weeks:

"Day 4 of the huge pile of white socks sitting on the couch cushion, Day 4 of no family member showing any interest in moving them into appropriate locations.  It's a fascinating social experiment."

"My daughter just wrote 'I love Davy Crockett.' in marker across her vanity mirror. Help."

"Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is a sandbag that is about the approximate size and weight of the damn cat.  That way I can at least feel what it'd be like to get to kick the s*#% out of it."

"Dear Santa, please give me a new family."

"Dear Santa, scratch that.  Just give them a replacement mother.  Thank you."

"Does anyone else have a husband that doesn't know the difference between a frying pan and a sauce pan, or is it just mine?"

That last one gave me the idea for this one:

"There should be a social network created exclusively for the purpose of venting about your spouse with no repercussions to one's marriage."

See?  I'm poisonous.

However, I remembered that I had a blog that I've been ignoring.  Technically, I can write whatever I want since no one really has to read this if they don't want to.  As for the repercussions and consequences,  I'm pretty sure I've only really offended Mr. C and maybe PETA.  One of those parties, I'm pretty sure I can handle.

I'm not saying which one.

You all have a good night.

Thank You

I had big plans for this Veterans Day post.  I really did.  I had planned to  upload a picture that my father had found of himself on the internet a couple of years ago.  He was reading something Vietnam related and saw a picture of a young soldier jumping out of a helicopter, whom he recognized as himself.  Crazy, huh?  He says he remembers at the time seeing a journalist out of the corner of his eye, but being that he was getting dropped off in the middle of the jungles of Vietnam, he had other things to worry about.

I was also going to include this great photo of my grandfather with his WWII buddies. It was taken out here in the desert before they were shipped out, and I have to confess that one of the reasons I was going to share it was so that you all could see what a bunch of hotties my grandpa and his friends were. But then I remembered the lesson that Back To The Future taught us all, and I realized that such statements could have serious repercussions. So I'll just say that it's my opinion that men of the 1940's were much better looking than men today and we'll leave it at that.

Wow.  So far this a really reverent and moving post. 

Anyway, I was going to upload those images and write about how proud I am of my father and grandfather's Veteran status.  But of course, I never got around to asking for the images.  

I know.  Me.  Not getting around to something.  Shocking.  

So, I'm relegated to just uploading a short clip of PG's speaking part at her school's Veterans Day performance.  She's the last one to speak and in case you can't understand my shy girl, she says "This government is of the people, for the people, and by the people, so you have to do your part!"  

I thought she performed it wonderfully.  

The whole program was, in fact, wonderfully done, but it was the end part (after my camera ran out of battery) that I really wish I had videotaped.  The teachers ran a slideshow of pictures that the first grader's families had sent in of their loved ones in service.  While the slideshow was running, the kids sang the following song:

When I lay my head down every night 

and I go to sleep in peace

I can stay there knowing all is well

while you're standing on your feet.

Keeping watch, protecting, shore to shore

In the air and oceans too

Defending freedom at all costs

For the Red, White, and the Blue. 

To the soldiers who have travelled on 

to countries far and near,

In peace and war you pay the price

For the cause you hold so dear. 

Thank you, oh Thank you

Men and women brave and strong, 

Because you've fought so gallantly

we sing this grateful song.  

Between the images on the screen and the sweet 6 year old voices singing the words above, there was not a dry eye in the house.   

The first stanza in particular spoke to my heart.  I've been thinking a lot, since becoming a parent, of how lucky we are to not know war on our soil.  We're spoiled, really.  I can't imagine that terror that would come with having bombs dropping around us and trying to keep our children safe.  For so many people in the world, that's a reality.  For us Americans, it's a blessing that we've made it this far without knowing that fear.

Thank you, to all the Vets out there. I know that I can never truly understand the depths of the sacrifice that you made for me and our country.  For every vet out there today who can not feel safe in a room without having their backs against a wall, who can't hear the sound of a helicopter without thinking about medics and body bags, who can't talk about what happened because it's too hurtful to remember, who lost brothers, who lost faith, or who are just haunted, I know I can't understand what of your life you've sacrificed for our country.  I can only say thank you, and hope that someday God gives you the answers to the questions you may be asking, and peace in your heart.

You all have a good night. 

My Roo is Two

Dear Baby Roo,

Today you turned 2.  Which means that 2 years ago tonight I was in the hospital holding a brand new chubby-cheeked you.  You looked like this:

Well, to be honest, more often you looked like this:

but that's because you had a high fever for the first few days.  We got it all under control and you settled down.  

Thank you for that, by the way.  My hospital room mate, wherever she may be, thanks you too. 

Two years ago tonight was also the night that I shouted out the word "ouchie" when I was deep in the middle of labor with you.  I realize that since that time you have heard a wide variety of swear word pass through my lips, but I really do hope that you appreciate the fact that I kept it clean while bringing you into the world. 

Seriously.  Appreciate it, because when I think back on it, it's pretty embarrassing.  AND I missed out on a perfectly legit opportunity to drop an f bomb publicly.  

Anyway.

However fast the first year flew, this second year flew by even faster.  Here you are on your birthday last year:

Sorry 'bout the dumb crown.  At the time I thought it was cute, but now I see that it was just kinda dumb.  If it makes you feel any better, I have a million photos of myself in the 90's that follow that same precedent.  

Here you are last winter:

Walking! 

Last spring you suddenly got all 'big girl' on us:

And by last summer you were completely out of the baby stage and doing all kinds of crazy tricks in the pool:

That little scream you do when you jump in just kills me every time.  

Anyway Roo, you're getting big way too fast, but your dad and I have been at this parenting stuff for long enough now to know that we just have to accept that fact.  We love that you're the baby of our family and I know we love on you way too much, but I just ask that you humor us for a little longer because it makes us so happy to do it.  

Plus, we can't help it.  It's your fault for having really yummy cheeks. 

So, happy birthday my Roo!  We love everything about you: the way you twirl your hair when you're tired, the way you over-enunciate the 'L's in your name, the way you misunderstand the use of possessive pronouns by saying things like "happy my birthday" or "hello my kitty".  Most of all though, we just love YOU.  Thanks for being our caboose.

Love to the Moon and Back, 

Mommy and Daddy

P.S.- I also want to take this opportunity to thank you for whatever in utero switch you turned on in me that's responsible for my Kettle Chip obsession.  It all started with a pregnancy craving, but it's turned into much, much more.  While my thighs and ass may take issue with it, my taste buds do not.  Thank you.   

Halloween/Birthday Queen

Hey there!

Another Halloween, another birthday come and gone.  I'll get to the Halloween part in just a minute, but first I want to address the birthday part.   I turned 36 yesterday, which means I'm offically old.  I've decided that this is true.

Don't even try to change my mind.

I will say though, in my old age I've come to the realization that there are birthdays and then there are Facebook birthdays.  The regular old birthday that one celebrates with their family and beloved friends are invaluable and must never ever ever be done away with.  However, the Facebook birthday?  That is something else entirely.  It's like one's own little social media version of It's A Wonderful Life, where you get to be reminded of everyone's lives you've been a part of, and everyone who's been a part of your life as well.  Yesterday, in a 24 hour period, I received well wishes from people who met me in the hospital on the day I was born, to my elementary school friends, to former high school bff's, work colleagues, mommy friends, neighbors.... you get the idea.  I felt very loved and grateful all day long.

I know.  I'm getting sappy in my old age.  I need to get a grip because really, it's just Facebook.  It's what people do.

Still.

Anyway, I'm posting tonight because I promised a couple of weeks ago to show you guys the final result of our Halloween House of Horrors and I'm trying to be better about following up on things.  Especially since I've failed you all on Fall Food Fridays.

And Teacher Talk Tuesdays.

And I never really got around to doing any kind of regular book-related post.

Is anybody even still out there?

Anyway, I hate to subject you all to another video with me narrating, but there was no other way around it.  I also hate to subject you to poor quality video, but again, there was no way around it.  The Flip doesn't come with any type of night vision recording device (that I know of), so I got all MacGyver on you guys and just lit the Flip with a flashlight- which amounted to very limited vision.  Basically, you're going to be looking at darkness and blurs for the next minute twenty.   Sorry.  But I've done what I could to give you guys an idea of why Mr. C proudly holds the honor of having the scariest house on the block, and it's all thanks to 9, mostly.
You'll see why here:

Halloween '10 from Tacy Cauthron on Vimeo.







Is that costume 9's wearing freaky or what? This one group of girls got so scared that they did a lap through our house and out our garage door, while all my family and friends watched and laughed.

Empathy is not really a strong trait around here.

Anyway, that's (almost) all I have for you tonight.

Just a quick aside- a couple of weeks ago a friend of mine posted on FB that she "loathes Halloween" and I seriously had to take a moment and talk myself down from defriending her.  I'm glad that I did, because in real life she is a wonderful and warm person.  It's just a tad hard for me to not take it personal when someone doesn't like Halloween.  With me, it's one of those things that are up there with politics and religion.  If you don't like Halloween and you happen to be my friend, well then, we'll just avoid the entire topic altogether like a big fat elephant in the room.

For those of you who do 'get' Halloween and love it as much as I do, I  want to say thanks for celebrating!  I hope your day was filled with all kinds of parties and spooky fun.

Have a good night!