The kids and I decided to make pizza today. It's been very fun, and very messy.
First was the supplies.
3 boboli pizza crusts
1 - 3pk boboli pizza sauce
3lb bag mexican blend cheese
1lb hamburger meat
Pepperonis - which we already have, we always have it on hand, lol
First of all, I put the sauce on all the pizzas. It's a messy step so I did it. Next, Sarah and Amaya put pepperonis on one pizza, Zachary put pepperonis on another pizza, and Joshua topped those pepperonis with fried up hamburger meat. Gabriel spread cheese over the pizzas, with Amaya helping and stealing toppings as they went. Then we all munched on pepperonis and cheese while those two pizzas cooked.
Last pizza was supposed to be cheese only, but it's got pepperonis and meat on it too, because we had too many toppings left over. LOL! :)
We had a lot of fun making these pizzas, and it was quick and easy. (Even for the two year old!)
I felt sorry for my mom as we did this, because she never did anything so fun and involved with me and my siblings when we were younger. She missed out on such great adventures, re-learning and re-exploring life through the eyes of her children. It's something I take for granted, and yet it's such a blessing.
<3
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
A Love of Fate
I've been thinking of posting this for some time now, and Kelly says I should go ahead and post it. For any military wives who read this---well, not all of course, maybe I'm the only one who ever feared losing the mind while keeping the body. Anyways, this story came from a fear I had during Kelly's deployments. It is very emotional, especially, in my mind, to military wives.
To: Wife@ homeinAmerica.com
From: Husband@ war.com
Subject: Re: Come Home..
I wish I could say soon, I miss your arms around me at night. I never thought it could be so cold in the desert. I miss your smile, the pictures I have aren't helping. We should be leaving next week, I hope to be there before you receive the letter I mailed you.
Yours Truely,
The Man Who Stole Your Heart.
On Feb 14, 2003 Wife@ homeinAmerica.net wrote:
> Dreams are intense.
> I woke up screaming your name last night.
> It seems like lately I can't stop thinking about you...when are you coming home?
> I miss you.
>
> Love in Eternity,
> Your Wife
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It was Valentine's Day, the letters that they wrote were from miles away. Years seem to pass in between a family when they're seperated with no way to touch. Dreams are lost in time, lost beneath the changes time always brings.
He returned home safely, when the war was through with him. She feared for a while, he didn't write because he had been taken prisoner on the way home. He was tortured, tormented, and was clinging to the mere thought of his wife for survival. But what did it give him but images of who she was? He returned home to a woman who had grown. She was used to his not being there, and his presence made her nervous and edgy now. He needed her touch, but her touch was hesitant.
A wedge was driven between them, and their love- as strong as it was- could not survive. She left him, scared of who he was now- the man who had nearly died and had killed to live for only her touch. The pain was so much, to know he still lived and she could hear his voice, but the loving touches with a worshipful taste so hungry for her that it scared her, the midnight tears that soaked his pillow, and his withdraw so completely into his own tormented hell; she could not longer stand it. The love of your life changed beyond recognition, beyond hope of redemption. What kind of God lets love like this run dry?
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He was sitting in the living room as she left. His eyes were bleek, muted pain veiled the laughing glimmer they once held. She couldn't even look at him, her bags were packed and sitting by the door.
"I'll - uhm - be at Mom's," her voice trailed off uncertainly, waiting for him to ask her to stay. Begging him silently, but nothing, and her mind clicked back on, "My Mom's I mean. If you need anything," and again her voice trailed off as she stood staring at the broken man she once loved so passionately. Leaving him didn't hurt her, because he wasn't the man who left to become a hero. He had come a hero, no doubt about it--but she couldn't even stand to be in the same room as the stranger that replaced her beloved husband.
There was a tightness in her chest that told her that her heart was breaking, and a stinging in her eyes that let her know the tears would come again very soon. It was a cruel joke, and fate wouldn't let them go for a long time.
He didn't even acknowledge her words, he just sat there. His eyes were unfocused, though the tv was on in front of him; but even she knew better than to think he was watching it. In his mind he was still in that cell, he was still being hurt. She wished he could let it go, that he could heal and come home to her for real; instead of living in this ghost-like shell so shut off from her. Even then, she knew, the damage had been done and he would never be the same again.
Slowly, she turned and opened the door letting in a violent riot of sunlight that cascaded over the tile entryway, pooling atop the terra cotta tiles and splashing against the grout between them carelessly. Memories of the installation haunted her, teasing her as laughter echoed around her and she saw them again, happy and in love as they set the tiles and smeared one another with grout.
"Eek!" Her squeel echoed in the empty house, "You can't do it like that! It'll look crooked!" She slipped on an ill-placed tile and stumbled, paint brush in hand as she fell and grabbed his shoulder. He fell with her, catching her and cradling her in his arms as she splashed paint everywhere.
They lay in a pile on the floor, the tiles only half installed and yet completely forgotten as his lips met her's. The passion of their love reignited by even the simplest of things.
The remote location of their house made it a perfect spot, the sun hot across their nude bodies as they made love, clinging to eachother as if for life itself. The room faded to hot pinks and oranges as the sun set, and beyond the doorway they could have seen such spectacular colors as God painted the sky for them alone.
But as they were for so many years, they were lost in each other. The beauty of nature was lost for their enrapt attention to eachother that lasted until long after the sky had become an inky blue.
He still hadn't moved, and she shut her eyes more against the tears that were burning them than the familiar sunset that bathed her face in golden sunlight. She stepped out into the fresh summer breeze, and slowly stumbled her way to the car climbing behind the wheel in an emotional wreck. How can I ever live without him? she thought, through her sorrowful tears.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Knowing she was leaving, he could hear her coming downstairs, he wondered if maybe he had acted too soon. Surely she wouldn't come to kiss him good-bye. Not this time, of course.
He heard her speaking, but was too drained to even turn to give her the attention she deserved from him. The dull pain pulsing from his wrists gave the only sensation he felt in these final moments, the crimson stain crossing the couch they picked out together.
Will she miss me, his mind tormented him now of all times. Will she miss me as much as I will miss her?
He was drowning now, falling into oblivion, and it was far too late even if she did come to him. He could hear the shudder crisp and clear as she took a ragged breath. He heard her murmer of love and eternity. His eyes fell shut, but his life didn't flash before his eyes as he had thought it might: only her face. Her smile, her golden hair washing over her shoulders as she leaned over him and a smile painted across her beautiful face. The sunlight in her hair was like a halo, and he knew he had never deserved such a love. But her lips, those rosy full lips, how they called to him--even with his last breath, as he felt himself dying, he heard her words and felt her breath against his ear.
"I'll never leave you," she was whispering, "not until the day we both die."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Tears were stinging her eyes as she drove, and she blinked hard trying to focus on the road and where she was going. Finally she stopped, pulling over to the side of the road where she cried. For hours she cried, letting out the pain she had held inside since he returned home. He may have lived physically, but he died so long ago, and without him she was dead inside as well. She couldn't stand his face, that placid mask that used to be so animated with life and love. Seeing him made her remember the loss, to feel it so much more keenly than she had during his deployment. She remembered the promises, her mantra she chanted as she prayed for him while he was captive. It was so long ago, lifetimes ago, their naive promises of forever.
Without looking she opened the door of her car, and stepped out into the road. She felt the cool breeze against her face and leaned against her car, shakily lighting a cigarette as an afirmation of her new habit to soothe the pain. Her hand shook as her chest heaved with left over sobs that weren't ready yet to subside. A soft rain began to fall, making the pavement his and steam and she stood there, letting the rain wash her tears away and plaster her hair to her face and neck. Not even the lightening or thunder rumbling through the sky shook her from her shock.
She may have seen the headlights veering uncontrollably as a drunk driver slid dangerously along the road slick from the fresh rain. The driver couldn't control the car from drinking so much, and she snapped into reality just in time to hear the final squeel of tires, the blinding flash of a light---and then she was knocked down, and under and over...
She could have survived.
Fate didn't let her. Her death was quick and painless, and as she took her last breath staring up at the storm and the raindrops she saw only his face, smiling and radiant as it had been when she first met him.
He held out his hand to her, and she found herself reaching up to accept her death.
"I thought you'd intended to lay there all day," his voice was saying from far away behind that blinding light.
There was no rain.
He was moving away from her -- but no! Wait! She wanted to call to him but her voice was thick and uneven, and she couldn't form the words to express her fear.
But then she wasn't under her car, and there was no night pierced by headlights. She was sitting in a grassy field, vibrantly green and alive. There was a faint imprint of where she'd been laying tracing her head, and arms, and no doubt her legs which were still lost in the green.
"Sally?" Dave's voice came again, and she looked up to see him a few steps away. "Are you coming?" He was facing her now, concerned.
"Is..." she looked around at the sun, the beauty of nature and the park around them filled with happy and laughing people. "Is this heaven?" She was hesitant, and confused.
"Don't be a goose, you didn't get hit that hard did you?" he was walking back to her, and running his fingers through her hair to check for contusions. "Come on, you don't even have a bump!" He picked up the baseball that was laying several feet off, and this time lifted her to her feet and led her to a crowd of their friends they had known for years. "This is Memphis, no where near heaven."
She shook her head as she followed him, then stopped him short of the crowd waiting for them and kissed him cautiously. "I guess I'm just worried about the war..."
"What war?" He looked at her again, arching an eyebrow and only the depths of serious concern for her was shining in his eyes back at her. "There hasn't been a war since the Clinton administration, since the Iceland Pact. You know that."
Once again Sally shook her head, lost in his eyes as she so often found herself. "I, uhm...nevermind. I love you." And the fog in her mind that was telling her this was wrong was dissipating, and she felt warm again as if she had just had a great burden lifted from her shoulders.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, just a bit too much sun maybe? I think I need a drink."
He smiled now, still concerned as he dashed off to get her a drink.
She stood watching him, the confusion fleeing from her mind as she remembered the Pact, and their plans to play baseball today. Surrounded by their family and friends she had thought lost so long ago- she wondered idly if time could stand still for a love that fate was bound to get right.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
~Fin~
To: Wife@ homeinAmerica.com
From: Husband@ war.com
Subject: Re: Come Home..
I wish I could say soon, I miss your arms around me at night. I never thought it could be so cold in the desert. I miss your smile, the pictures I have aren't helping. We should be leaving next week, I hope to be there before you receive the letter I mailed you.
Yours Truely,
The Man Who Stole Your Heart.
On Feb 14, 2003 Wife@ homeinAmerica.net wrote:
> Dreams are intense.
> I woke up screaming your name last night.
> It seems like lately I can't stop thinking about you...when are you coming home?
> I miss you.
>
> Love in Eternity,
> Your Wife
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It was Valentine's Day, the letters that they wrote were from miles away. Years seem to pass in between a family when they're seperated with no way to touch. Dreams are lost in time, lost beneath the changes time always brings.
He returned home safely, when the war was through with him. She feared for a while, he didn't write because he had been taken prisoner on the way home. He was tortured, tormented, and was clinging to the mere thought of his wife for survival. But what did it give him but images of who she was? He returned home to a woman who had grown. She was used to his not being there, and his presence made her nervous and edgy now. He needed her touch, but her touch was hesitant.
A wedge was driven between them, and their love- as strong as it was- could not survive. She left him, scared of who he was now- the man who had nearly died and had killed to live for only her touch. The pain was so much, to know he still lived and she could hear his voice, but the loving touches with a worshipful taste so hungry for her that it scared her, the midnight tears that soaked his pillow, and his withdraw so completely into his own tormented hell; she could not longer stand it. The love of your life changed beyond recognition, beyond hope of redemption. What kind of God lets love like this run dry?
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He was sitting in the living room as she left. His eyes were bleek, muted pain veiled the laughing glimmer they once held. She couldn't even look at him, her bags were packed and sitting by the door.
"I'll - uhm - be at Mom's," her voice trailed off uncertainly, waiting for him to ask her to stay. Begging him silently, but nothing, and her mind clicked back on, "My Mom's I mean. If you need anything," and again her voice trailed off as she stood staring at the broken man she once loved so passionately. Leaving him didn't hurt her, because he wasn't the man who left to become a hero. He had come a hero, no doubt about it--but she couldn't even stand to be in the same room as the stranger that replaced her beloved husband.
There was a tightness in her chest that told her that her heart was breaking, and a stinging in her eyes that let her know the tears would come again very soon. It was a cruel joke, and fate wouldn't let them go for a long time.
He didn't even acknowledge her words, he just sat there. His eyes were unfocused, though the tv was on in front of him; but even she knew better than to think he was watching it. In his mind he was still in that cell, he was still being hurt. She wished he could let it go, that he could heal and come home to her for real; instead of living in this ghost-like shell so shut off from her. Even then, she knew, the damage had been done and he would never be the same again.
Slowly, she turned and opened the door letting in a violent riot of sunlight that cascaded over the tile entryway, pooling atop the terra cotta tiles and splashing against the grout between them carelessly. Memories of the installation haunted her, teasing her as laughter echoed around her and she saw them again, happy and in love as they set the tiles and smeared one another with grout.
"Eek!" Her squeel echoed in the empty house, "You can't do it like that! It'll look crooked!" She slipped on an ill-placed tile and stumbled, paint brush in hand as she fell and grabbed his shoulder. He fell with her, catching her and cradling her in his arms as she splashed paint everywhere.
They lay in a pile on the floor, the tiles only half installed and yet completely forgotten as his lips met her's. The passion of their love reignited by even the simplest of things.
The remote location of their house made it a perfect spot, the sun hot across their nude bodies as they made love, clinging to eachother as if for life itself. The room faded to hot pinks and oranges as the sun set, and beyond the doorway they could have seen such spectacular colors as God painted the sky for them alone.
But as they were for so many years, they were lost in each other. The beauty of nature was lost for their enrapt attention to eachother that lasted until long after the sky had become an inky blue.
He still hadn't moved, and she shut her eyes more against the tears that were burning them than the familiar sunset that bathed her face in golden sunlight. She stepped out into the fresh summer breeze, and slowly stumbled her way to the car climbing behind the wheel in an emotional wreck. How can I ever live without him? she thought, through her sorrowful tears.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Knowing she was leaving, he could hear her coming downstairs, he wondered if maybe he had acted too soon. Surely she wouldn't come to kiss him good-bye. Not this time, of course.
He heard her speaking, but was too drained to even turn to give her the attention she deserved from him. The dull pain pulsing from his wrists gave the only sensation he felt in these final moments, the crimson stain crossing the couch they picked out together.
Will she miss me, his mind tormented him now of all times. Will she miss me as much as I will miss her?
He was drowning now, falling into oblivion, and it was far too late even if she did come to him. He could hear the shudder crisp and clear as she took a ragged breath. He heard her murmer of love and eternity. His eyes fell shut, but his life didn't flash before his eyes as he had thought it might: only her face. Her smile, her golden hair washing over her shoulders as she leaned over him and a smile painted across her beautiful face. The sunlight in her hair was like a halo, and he knew he had never deserved such a love. But her lips, those rosy full lips, how they called to him--even with his last breath, as he felt himself dying, he heard her words and felt her breath against his ear.
"I'll never leave you," she was whispering, "not until the day we both die."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Tears were stinging her eyes as she drove, and she blinked hard trying to focus on the road and where she was going. Finally she stopped, pulling over to the side of the road where she cried. For hours she cried, letting out the pain she had held inside since he returned home. He may have lived physically, but he died so long ago, and without him she was dead inside as well. She couldn't stand his face, that placid mask that used to be so animated with life and love. Seeing him made her remember the loss, to feel it so much more keenly than she had during his deployment. She remembered the promises, her mantra she chanted as she prayed for him while he was captive. It was so long ago, lifetimes ago, their naive promises of forever.
Without looking she opened the door of her car, and stepped out into the road. She felt the cool breeze against her face and leaned against her car, shakily lighting a cigarette as an afirmation of her new habit to soothe the pain. Her hand shook as her chest heaved with left over sobs that weren't ready yet to subside. A soft rain began to fall, making the pavement his and steam and she stood there, letting the rain wash her tears away and plaster her hair to her face and neck. Not even the lightening or thunder rumbling through the sky shook her from her shock.
She may have seen the headlights veering uncontrollably as a drunk driver slid dangerously along the road slick from the fresh rain. The driver couldn't control the car from drinking so much, and she snapped into reality just in time to hear the final squeel of tires, the blinding flash of a light---and then she was knocked down, and under and over...
She could have survived.
Fate didn't let her. Her death was quick and painless, and as she took her last breath staring up at the storm and the raindrops she saw only his face, smiling and radiant as it had been when she first met him.
He held out his hand to her, and she found herself reaching up to accept her death.
"I thought you'd intended to lay there all day," his voice was saying from far away behind that blinding light.
There was no rain.
He was moving away from her -- but no! Wait! She wanted to call to him but her voice was thick and uneven, and she couldn't form the words to express her fear.
But then she wasn't under her car, and there was no night pierced by headlights. She was sitting in a grassy field, vibrantly green and alive. There was a faint imprint of where she'd been laying tracing her head, and arms, and no doubt her legs which were still lost in the green.
"Sally?" Dave's voice came again, and she looked up to see him a few steps away. "Are you coming?" He was facing her now, concerned.
"Is..." she looked around at the sun, the beauty of nature and the park around them filled with happy and laughing people. "Is this heaven?" She was hesitant, and confused.
"Don't be a goose, you didn't get hit that hard did you?" he was walking back to her, and running his fingers through her hair to check for contusions. "Come on, you don't even have a bump!" He picked up the baseball that was laying several feet off, and this time lifted her to her feet and led her to a crowd of their friends they had known for years. "This is Memphis, no where near heaven."
She shook her head as she followed him, then stopped him short of the crowd waiting for them and kissed him cautiously. "I guess I'm just worried about the war..."
"What war?" He looked at her again, arching an eyebrow and only the depths of serious concern for her was shining in his eyes back at her. "There hasn't been a war since the Clinton administration, since the Iceland Pact. You know that."
Once again Sally shook her head, lost in his eyes as she so often found herself. "I, uhm...nevermind. I love you." And the fog in her mind that was telling her this was wrong was dissipating, and she felt warm again as if she had just had a great burden lifted from her shoulders.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, just a bit too much sun maybe? I think I need a drink."
He smiled now, still concerned as he dashed off to get her a drink.
She stood watching him, the confusion fleeing from her mind as she remembered the Pact, and their plans to play baseball today. Surrounded by their family and friends she had thought lost so long ago- she wondered idly if time could stand still for a love that fate was bound to get right.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
~Fin~
Thursday, February 21, 2008
- . Symphony of Summer . -
For those of us who lived in rural America ...well, you know. :)
Golden lit memories
Shifting like photographs,
Starry nights beneath
A canopy of sapphire
Dancing lightening bugs
Floating on the breeze,
The cry of the frog,
And a coyote's howl
Symphony of summer
Sung in memory.
Children's laughter,
Sweet like lemonade.
Running in the meadows
Flying on the wings
Of an old tireswing.
The cool refreshment
Echoing from the river,
An old swimming hole
Long since forgotten.
I was there, so long ago
In those fields so sweet,
Among the hidden glory
Symphony of summer.
Song of birds softly
Mixed with cadydids.
A trembling blossom
That survives eternal
Locked within a memory.
Golden lit memories
Shifting like photographs,
Starry nights beneath
A canopy of sapphire
Dancing lightening bugs
Floating on the breeze,
The cry of the frog,
And a coyote's howl
Symphony of summer
Sung in memory.
Children's laughter,
Sweet like lemonade.
Running in the meadows
Flying on the wings
Of an old tireswing.
The cool refreshment
Echoing from the river,
An old swimming hole
Long since forgotten.
I was there, so long ago
In those fields so sweet,
Among the hidden glory
Symphony of summer.
Song of birds softly
Mixed with cadydids.
A trembling blossom
That survives eternal
Locked within a memory.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Rag-time Blues
I don't like this poem anymore, but maybe someone else will if I only post it here for them to read. This poem means many things to many people, and I won't taint it by telling you where my brain was when I wrote it. Suffice to say it no longer applies to me, and therefore I don't personally enjoy it like I did when I wrote it.
<3
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you.
Hold your head up high again,
Walk the path without the pain.
Keep a leash on wild desire,
And be lost within the fire,
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you,
Knowing that with time will be,
A time that your heart is free,
To soar in the starlit night
A time when all will be right.
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you.
Cast away the doubt and fears,
When the shadows gather near;
Walk with pride into the light,
Leave behind the darkened night.
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you.
<3
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you.
Hold your head up high again,
Walk the path without the pain.
Keep a leash on wild desire,
And be lost within the fire,
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you,
Knowing that with time will be,
A time that your heart is free,
To soar in the starlit night
A time when all will be right.
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you.
Cast away the doubt and fears,
When the shadows gather near;
Walk with pride into the light,
Leave behind the darkened night.
Dream in sultry rag-time blues,
When the darkness comes for you.
Monday, February 18, 2008
How CUTE!!!!
This thing looks so cute!!!!! I'd love to see a parade of dinos in my house, but it wouldn't last! Anyways, cutest toy ever.
kkthxbai!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Is it too late?
Okay, this time I'm going to actually write a post, instead of just the title. ;)
I didn't do anything on slow cooker thursday, because I work all day and I'm quite lazy.
Kelly has appealed to me to make the nachos Sandra made a while back, and I've been thinking of how yummy it sounded. But for some reason God has not given me the ability to follow a recipe to the end, without altering it so much that there shouldn't have been a recipe to start with for all I listened to it. :)
So here's what we did different.
First, I fried up two lbs of 93/7 turkey meat. (Honeysuckle white--yum!) I make Kelly eat turkey because it doesn't mess with his gout or stomach too much, so most of our recipes use turkey instead of other ground meats. Anyways...fried up the meat with 2 tablespoons of chili powder, a heaping helping of minced garlic--about 3 large cloves, I kid you not--and a ton of fresh ground pepper and some cayenne pepper too!
Then I opened up a large can of WIS-CON nacho cheese. We've never tried this before, but I really dislike the consistencies I get with Velveeta or chunk cheeses. This one starts smooth, and mixes well with the other stuff I'm putting in. :)
Anyways, dumped the cheese and meat into the crock pot, added 1/2 cup of Pace Medium salsa, and 2 tablespoons of jalapeno juice.
I've got the crock pot on high right now, because I want it to get hot quickly and I'm impatient. We haven't actually tried this mess yet, but I hope it tastes yummy!
We have some lettuce and sour cream to add on top, as well as some refried beans!
I'll have Kelly let everyone know how it turned out, lol.
I didn't do anything on slow cooker thursday, because I work all day and I'm quite lazy.
Kelly has appealed to me to make the nachos Sandra made a while back, and I've been thinking of how yummy it sounded. But for some reason God has not given me the ability to follow a recipe to the end, without altering it so much that there shouldn't have been a recipe to start with for all I listened to it. :)
So here's what we did different.
First, I fried up two lbs of 93/7 turkey meat. (Honeysuckle white--yum!) I make Kelly eat turkey because it doesn't mess with his gout or stomach too much, so most of our recipes use turkey instead of other ground meats. Anyways...fried up the meat with 2 tablespoons of chili powder, a heaping helping of minced garlic--about 3 large cloves, I kid you not--and a ton of fresh ground pepper and some cayenne pepper too!
Then I opened up a large can of WIS-CON nacho cheese. We've never tried this before, but I really dislike the consistencies I get with Velveeta or chunk cheeses. This one starts smooth, and mixes well with the other stuff I'm putting in. :)
Anyways, dumped the cheese and meat into the crock pot, added 1/2 cup of Pace Medium salsa, and 2 tablespoons of jalapeno juice.
I've got the crock pot on high right now, because I want it to get hot quickly and I'm impatient. We haven't actually tried this mess yet, but I hope it tastes yummy!
We have some lettuce and sour cream to add on top, as well as some refried beans!
I'll have Kelly let everyone know how it turned out, lol.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The Spider and the Butterfly
This poem has been published http://www.ritro.com/sections/poetry-prose/story.bv?storyid=2793 here, in September of 2004. I was thrilled, as I was published somewhere--and yet hesitant to celebrate it much, since it's just a website, and as I've seen they don't have very strict rules on what they actually publish--the best of the bunch I hope. Anyways, it's my favorite self-written poem, and some of the lines stick in my head even now.
The Spider and the Butterfly
The shadows cast a spell
Of wanton disbelief
Design of higher power
Trapped within the grief.
Like a spinning spider
Dancing on spun glass
Winds borne of Avalon
Gently come to pass.
Winding down the day
Like a sunset's grace,
Dreaming of eternity
Within this hollow place.
A yearning held inside
For that simple perfection,
The hatred that is found
Inside a slight inflection.
All is lost for just one kiss,
A mild and lusty sin,
Like butterflies in flight,
Their beauty lies within.
This a quaint observation,
From a mortal mind
All this beauty in a field
In springtime to find,
The spider and the butterfly,
An oddly couple in short,
One never sees a stolen kiss,
Or thinks the butterfly the sort.
To engage in affairs
With the spider's disception,
Leading to her gentle fall,
And immediate suspension.
We're--and by we're I mean I'm--going to look at some places for us to move to. One is out in the country and it's on 2 acres. If it's anything livable, we'll be moving there. I'll have to get decorating tips from Sandra, I've been so much into ecclectic and techno-savvy I haven't any idea how to decorate a country home.
It's cold, freezing, and raining. So I need to hurry and get this out of the way, so I can come home and be in the warmth. It's supposed to snow tomorrow, and we're having a "family" dinner, with my dad, mom, sisters, brother and all their respective signifigant others. It's to celebrate Carol's (my older sister, who's 29 now!) and my birthday. Her's is the 11th, mine the 19th, and we're going to celebrate it all at once--weather permitting. I don't usually enjoy these large dinners, because the kids get all bored and fidgety, and they never enjoy themselves at all because it's an adult thing--shrug.
I wish I had a camera, so I could get pictures of the new (hopefully!) place and post them, but alas our camera was broken. :(
The Spider and the Butterfly
The shadows cast a spell
Of wanton disbelief
Design of higher power
Trapped within the grief.
Like a spinning spider
Dancing on spun glass
Winds borne of Avalon
Gently come to pass.
Winding down the day
Like a sunset's grace,
Dreaming of eternity
Within this hollow place.
A yearning held inside
For that simple perfection,
The hatred that is found
Inside a slight inflection.
All is lost for just one kiss,
A mild and lusty sin,
Like butterflies in flight,
Their beauty lies within.
This a quaint observation,
From a mortal mind
All this beauty in a field
In springtime to find,
The spider and the butterfly,
An oddly couple in short,
One never sees a stolen kiss,
Or thinks the butterfly the sort.
To engage in affairs
With the spider's disception,
Leading to her gentle fall,
And immediate suspension.
We're--and by we're I mean I'm--going to look at some places for us to move to. One is out in the country and it's on 2 acres. If it's anything livable, we'll be moving there. I'll have to get decorating tips from Sandra, I've been so much into ecclectic and techno-savvy I haven't any idea how to decorate a country home.
It's cold, freezing, and raining. So I need to hurry and get this out of the way, so I can come home and be in the warmth. It's supposed to snow tomorrow, and we're having a "family" dinner, with my dad, mom, sisters, brother and all their respective signifigant others. It's to celebrate Carol's (my older sister, who's 29 now!) and my birthday. Her's is the 11th, mine the 19th, and we're going to celebrate it all at once--weather permitting. I don't usually enjoy these large dinners, because the kids get all bored and fidgety, and they never enjoy themselves at all because it's an adult thing--shrug.
I wish I had a camera, so I could get pictures of the new (hopefully!) place and post them, but alas our camera was broken. :(
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