Something happened to me in the last couple of semesters. I think it has something to do with procrastination and the whole math-is-driving-me-up-the-proverbial-wall thing.
I’ve become a cook.
A real, love-to-be-in-the-kitchen-cooking-up-my-next-big-creation type of cook. Here is what I created tonight - a great, stay-at-home Saturday night meal. In collaboration with Mike’s doctor, I am trying to take care of his heart, so this meal - like most that we make these days - is health conscious and heart healthy.
But best of all - I got in the middle of my kitchen and had a blast and put all thoughts of polynomial functions on the back burner of my mind!
Ole!
Ingredients
4 slices good quality bacon
1 pound ground turkey breast
1 pound ground chicken
1 teaspoons paprika or smoked sweet paprika
2 teaspoons poultry seasoning, 2/3 palm full
1 tablespoon grill seasoning, a palm full
A handful chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 large shallot, finely chopped
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup sour cream
1 large clove garlic, grated or minced
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon hot sauce
3 tablespoons, finely chopped chives
1 tablespoon, finely chopped dill
Salt and pepper
4 crusty whole-wheat Keiser rolls
12 pieces green leaf lettuce
8 slices ripe tomato
8 slices avocado
Directions
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Bake bacon on slotted broiler pan until crisp 15 to 20 minutes.
Combine meat with paprika, poultry seasoning, grill seasoning, parsley and shallots. Mix well and form into 4 (1/2 pound) patties. Heat the extra-virgin olive oil in a large skillet over medium to medium-high heat. Cook meat patties 14 to 15 minutes, turning once.
Mix buttermilk with the sour cream, garlic, lemon juice, hot sauce, chives, dill, salt and pepper, to taste.
Split and toast rolls. Place burgers on bun bottoms and top with 2 slices bacon, lettuce, season tomatoes and set in place, arrange avocado on top of tomatoes. Top bun tops with buttermilk dressing and set in place.
“Mathematics is not a careful march down a well-cleared highway, but a journey into a strange wilderness, where the explorers often get lost.”
—W.S. Anglin
THANK. YOU, Mr. Anglin.
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
For me math is, at best, a grand test of patience, endurance, and that gnarly feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you know (you just…know) that things are about to get very, very bad.
Math and I go way back. All the way back to first grade, in fact.
The relationship started off well, with grainy, purple-ish mimeographed pages (remember these predecessors of color copies and laser-printed sheets?) of neatly printed addition and subtraction problems.
“Staci, meet the plus sign. Plus would like to add two apples to your pile of four oranges. How many pieces of fruit do you have now?”
As long as I could equate math with fruit or cookies, or even pencils or pennies, it was all good. Dare I say, even a tad bit…fun?
It all began to go awry mid-semester of my freshman year in high school. One word says it all, seven little letters. A-L-G-E-B-R-A.
I went into the class a little cocky (because I’d never had to work very hard to make good grades before) and more than a little naive (who knew that polynomials and variables could BE so obstinate?)
By the time I’d managed to crawl through Algebra I by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin, I walked into Mrs. Payne’s sophomore geometry class with my tail tucked between my legs.
I was cautiously hopeful that isosceles triangles and terms like area, volume, and perimeter would be kinder and gentler in nature - but I was not holding my breath.
Good thing.
It became a joke in the class that I would treat myself to a banana split at Braums if somehow - by the grace of God or osmosis or whatever worked - I managed to pass the increasingly difficult tests.
Mrs. Payne had the very annoying habit of reading the test grades aloud before handing them back. As if the humilation of a failing grade wasn’t enough on its own, now we had the added bonus of wanting to crawl beneath our desks whenever our name was called.
“Rogers,” she would peer over her half-rimmed, silver reading glasses and make direct eye contact.
With bated breath, I would wait like a defendant on trial to hear my fate.
“Looks like you’re going to Braums today,” she’d nod and give me the barest of grins. “You got a C.”
I still remember the cheers of my classmates and that afternoon, about four o’clock, found a large group of my friends and fellow geometry cellmates clustered around a white Formica table at our local neighborhood Braums.
Some things in life just need to be celebrated, you know?
When (NOT if) I manage to bag the three credit hours of college Algebra that I need in my degree plan, I will celebrate large!
Anybody want in?
___________________________
TODAY - February 2009
___________________________
Staci
TEN MORE WEEKS and math will FOREVER be behind me. It’s been three semesters of pure and total torture but, thanks to some friends who are truly gifted in math and who truly love my mathless goofy self, I’m beginning to see the light at the end of this tunnel.
And there WILL be an ice cream party when we emerge from this tunnel. Just wanted to let you know so you can get your spoons ready.
A few days ago I walked into the house at the end of a long day and sank onto the couch, kicked off my boots, and launched into filling Mike in on all the details. He’s good at that; at knowing when I need to talk something through and - on this particular day - I think he realized long before I did that I was about to, indeed, talk something through. He pulled off his reading glasses like he does when he’s preparing to give his full attention to something and he listened.
It had been a full day, with classes, labs, a meeting, and then a late lunch with one of our sons. The many conversations - rich with nuggets of information that were still waiting for me to patiently mine through - played through my mind and skipped across my heart as I tried to convey it all to my husband.
After I had done the best that I could, he leaned over and simply looked me straight in the eye. “This is the answer to all those prayers.”
His words stopped me and I grew still.
In one single sentence he had managed to capsulize what my heart had been trying to wrap its arms around for hours. Sometimes I think it’s the prayers we pray the most; the ones we pray for days and weeks and even months that eventually become such a part of the fabric of our day. Much like brushing our teeth or getting the coffee ready to brew for the following morning. They simply become a part of us, so when they begin to be answered we don’t always recognize them.
My husband’s words took me back over the past months, to the countless times I’ve gone to my knees - the tears I’ve wept, the promises I’ve clung to, the prayers that made their way from the farthest reachest of my soul at some of the darkest hours of the night…
In those times I imagined what this answered prayer would look like. I pictured it in my heart’s mind and I memorized it. I knew its lines, its depth, its weight. I knew its color, its shape, the way it would look, sound, taste, feel and behave.
But you see, that’s the great thing about my God. He is the ultimate in delivering surprises. When He answers prayers, He takes great delight in making sure that each package is unique; He wants it to be a one-of-a-kind, original in every conceivable way. I forget that sometimes; either that, or my mind is just not able to comprehend the magnitutude of what it is that He is all about.
This morning I do know He is all about loving His children. As much as I love my own children, He loves His all the more.
From that first moment a few days ago, when He began to answer this long-held prayer, it has been an almost non-stop process since. Each day, more and more of His plan has unfolded and I am in awe of Him. I would never have imagined this answer. It looks nothing like I imagined. Feels nothing like I imagined. Sounds like nothing that I had imagined.
That makes it all about Him, and not at all about me.
Dreaming comes easy to some folks - like me. It’s as much a part of the fabric of our being as our blue eyes or our eye for detail or any other single trait that makes us exactly who we are. Dreamers find inspiration in the most unlikely of places; better put, inspiration finds us.
For others, tapping into the dream is the hard part. Having the courage to pursue life, though, may come easier for these types. They believe in specific purposes and detailed plans and that “everything happens for a reason, but nothing happens without a plan.” Courage is always nearby; the hesitation only comes when courage is called to be front and center of something they have yet to truly see, and have only sensed.
I’m a true mixture of these two types. On some days I can run the gamut of letting my kite string out just as far as it will possibly go and clinging desperately to a safety net of plans and charts and deadlines. What I’m finding more and more is the freedom that comes with letting the kite go, with one hand firmly about the string and my two feet firmly planted to the ground.
Freedom is a gift directly from God. I believe He intends for us to live lives that are free. Not only free in Him, but free of doubt and free of fear. But freedom also means walking through gateways that we would ordinarily bypass. Freedom to explore new territory. Freedom to invest in new ventures or talents. Freedom to color outside of the lines from time to time, when appropriate.
I saw the following recently and it seemed to speak right along these lines. This morning, my feet are planted on terra firma, but my heart…
My heart is clutching big, over-size crayons - in all my favorite hues - and it is exuberantly coloring outside of the lines!
Find time to spend with God. Ask Him to show you how to make the most of your potential.
Research the area you want to pursue. For example if you desire to develop your talent in art, discover what’s available at your local community college, or call art supply shops for information about classes.
Expect to make adjustments to your schedule. Focusing on God’s calling for your life will not be easy. Make a list of your daily responsibilities and decide which are important and which ones are simply time consumers. Also, decide which duties follow the path God has called you to. Sometimes even good things are not the right things. You may teach Sunday School and run the food ministry, but perhaps that leaves you unable to follow a deeper desire which is to work with the elderly.
Enjoy the process of striving toward your dream. Oswald Chambers says, “We have an idea that God is leading us to a particular end, a desired goal; He is not. . . . What we call the process, God calls the end.”
Delight in each step you take toward your dream. Just as your to-do list is never complete, you will never “arrive.” Develop relationships with others who share the same talents and goals. Be available for encouragement and prayer.
Openly communicate your dreams to your family, and ask them to do the same. Brainstorm ways to help each other reach toward God’s best.
Make daily appointments with God to insure you are on the right track. Many of us have the tendency to take our dreams and run toward a direction God never intended. Spend time in Bible study and prayer to make sure you are fulfilling God’s purposes. It is in His presence that your dreams combine with His to find that “. . . he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6) NIV.
After all, completing God’s plan should be our greatest goal and the best reason to dare to dream.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Spray 4 individual-sized baking dishes with cooking spray.
Season the chicken with 1/4 teaspoon salt and a few turns of pepper. In a large nonstick skillet, heat 2 teaspoons of the oil over a medium-high heat. Add the chicken to the pan and cook for 5 minutes, turning once. Transfer the chicken to a plate.
Add 2 more teaspoons of the oil, the leeks, and the celery to the pan and cook until vegetables begin to soften, about 3 minutes. Add the potatoes, green beans, garlic, and remaining salt and pepper and cook for 2 more minutes.
Add the milk to the pan. Stir the flour into the chicken broth until dissolved and add to the pan. Cook, stirring, until the mixture comes to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Stir in the reserved chicken, peas, parsley, and thyme. Spoon the mixture into the prepared baking dishes.
Put the remaining 2 teaspoons olive oil into a small bowl. Unroll the phyllo dough and cut it into quarters. Place a quarter sheet on top of each baking dish and brush with olive oil. Repeat with remaining 3 baking dishes. Tuck the edges of the phyllo into the dish rim. Top each pie with Parmesan.
Place on a baking sheet and bake until the filling is bubbling, about 30 minutes.
I read the following quote in an article a few days ago:
“Happiness makes me useless. Anger and sadness are inspiring.”
This was said by a well-known music artist who - although not one of my favorites - is certainly looked up to, and respected, by many.
I moved on from the article, but then came back to it several times, just to read that one quote again. Something about it bothered me, but also begged me to look at it closer, more in depth.
To read it once is to be bothered by the sheer absurdity of it. Anyone who read this probably had much the same reaction.
But to read it again (and again and again) is to see (whether we want to admit it or not) there is some validity to her words.
Happiness, for the most part, is shallow and fleeting. What makes us smile today often bugs us tomorrow. What fulfills today no longer will satisfy tomorrow. Things, people, situations - they come and go, alter and change. There is no stability in these things and, because of this, the happiness that we claim to derive from them is also subject to instability.
What I have personally found while in this particular (shallow) state of happiness is that I often become complacent and fail to produce what I am capable of producing. This state often breeds the “it’s all about me” mentality and fosters a false sense of self-centeredness.
In short, it makes us lazy and ineffective. It spoils us.
Yet when I acknowledge these times without clinging to them, when I appreciate them without camping out on their doorstep - at these times they serve as a catalyst instead of a hindrance. When I look through the lens of truth I am able to see these times for what they truly are.
I draw from them but I don’t bank on them. I enjoy them but I don’t depend on them.
While I still find this artist’s words a bit jarring, I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming that she sees it this way too.
Happiness that breeds ineffectiveness is not true happiness. So, yes, in a sense it can make us useless.
Anger and sadness aren’t inspiring. But, yes, they are often the motivation for change for the good.
Psalm 139:14: "I will praise thee for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are thou works; and that my soul knoweth right well."
Life is a marvelous journey, and I hope to show you glimpses right here!
In no particular order, Staci is a novelist, wife, runner, mother, teacher, reader, student, friend, and diet Coke connoisseur. She loves to learn about all sorts of things and then share bits and pieces of it all here, hence "glimpses."
