I can’t bear to look!
This week has been hard and painful. Instead of going into that, I’ll post pictures of field trip I took all three girls on this week.
Friday we traveled to a nearby town with a National Monument.
At the visitor center they had a small wagon children could load with “supplies” as if they were going on a journey by wagon. At the back, they had lights that would say “half load”, “full load” and “overload”.
For the past few years, three I believe, I’ve gone to a Ladies retreat with some friends. It’s always been a great time to get away, spend some big girl time and learn more about Jesus. The fact that they give us all gifts is just icing the proverbial cake. This past weekend was the weekend of the retreat. It just happened to coincide with a field trip for Catherin and her school.
Mr. FullCup decided he would gladly attend and offered to drive for the trip. Which left me with part of a day alone before the retreat.
Then I went to the grocery store and realized I was pretty much tapped out financially. I prayed (and told no one) that if I was supposed to go to the retreat the funds would be there. As time drew closer I was kept thinking I needed to just tell the ladies I wasn’t able to afford to go this year. I hesitated doing that because I didn’t want to do or say anything that would make someone think “We can’t have Virginia not go, so we’ll pay her way.” I know God could operate that way, but it just didn’t seem right. And I prayed specifically that it would happen with my not saying anything.
Imagine my surprise last week when I received a phone call from a friend of mine who started the conversation with, “Please don’t hate me.” As if I was in the habit of hating my friends. I quickly assured her I could never hate her. She told me it was just her and I going to the retreat and she wasn’t going to be able to make it either. We said it must be a God thing. Because I’d been thinking the same thing.
This left me with a whole day to spend alone. I could do whatever my little ol’ heart desired. What my little ol’ heart desired was to paint my kitchen. I’ve been itching to paint it for a long while. I had already picked out the color and it was just a matter of getting the paint and doing it.
Thursday saw me heading to Menards to buy the paint. I had asked a friend of mine who had been a professional painter, if I really needed to prime my red walls since I was using another dark color. He assured me I did.
I hate to prime. I’m pretty much a get my brush, roller pan, roller and start slapping paint on the wall. While at Menards buying paint, I kept hearing his voice in my head “Buy primer. Buy primer.” I rebelled. Sort of. I bought paint with primer already in it. I bought one gallon thinking if it had primer in it, I wouldn’t have as many coats of paint to cover the red.
And I didn’t the red covered very nicely. The lighter color however did not.
I was able to get almost all done with painting the first coat before I ran out of paint. And my family was in Denver with our van.
Yes. Our van. Our only mode of transportation with a heater. Since I desperately wanted to finish this job before they arrived home, I opted to walk to Menards. A distance of about 2 miles or so from my house.
All was fine until I turned north to cross the highway and the full force of the wind caught me full in the face. When I turned and headed back east, I happened to see a sign with the temperature, it was a balmy 33 degrees with a fierce north wind blowing no fewer than 500 mph. (Okay it might have been a little fewer)
And I started to pray. I prayed that if God should so choose to send someone I knew out on the roads while I was walking home, and if they should happen to see me and happen to ask if I would like a ride home, I sure would not turn it down.
As I neared Menards, I prayed that it would be just fine and dandy with me if I saw someone I knew in Menards and I wouldn’t turn down a ride home.
I didn’t see anyone I knew in Menards. So I started the trek home. And continued to pray as I lost all feeling in my face. I hadn’t walked far when I hear someone talking. And honestly I took great comfort in hearing the voice of another crazy out there walking.
When I realized the crazy wasn’t out walking, but was instead in a nice warm Suburban asking if I would like a ride.
Would I!!!! I jumped in and told them of my prayers. I hope they were encouraged.
Here are some pictures from Women of Faith in Omaha
I don’t normally love the Autumn season like some do. It’s okay but Autumn is really much, much too dreary for my taste. I like bright sunshiny days, and generally I get them. But Autumn (and winter) seems to have more dreary, cloudy, want-to-hide-in-bed-all-day-days. Oh man, that sounds like I’m depressing…err depressed. I’m not. I’m a go-er. Staying bed, even when ill, is very difficult for me.
The best part of Autumn, in my estimation at least, is apples. I love apples. When we lived in St. Louis (well not in-in St. Louis but nearby), I loved to go to the apple orchards and get boxes of apples. One Saturday a friend and I spent the entire day making apple pies. It was heavenly.
And I haven’t been able to make a decent pie since.
Out of desperation, because you know you can only eat so many apples raw, I tried something a few years ago. And it worked! I called it “Baked Apple DEE-Vine”.
Because that’s what it is.
I used gala apples, because that is what I had. You wash, (not even going to go into how many contaminants are on the skin of the apple), cut into fourths, core and slice the apples. You can peel if you want, I don’t. Preheat your oven to 350 and melt 1/2 -1 tablespoon of butter.
While your oven preheats and your butter melts, slice your apples. When your butter is melted, layer your sliced apples and sprinkle each layer with cinnamon and drizzle with honey.
I cover the pan with foil, and bake for 12 minutes, stir and bake for an additional 5 minutes.
Plate and eat. If you have some whipped topping, that is really good too. But I like them fresh from the oven.
She does too.
She’s too busy eating to say, but she loves them plain too.
I can think of absolutely-positively nothing to blog about. So you get pictures!
Ariana has realized she loves pickled beets…even to the point of drinking the juice.
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