Arts Festival dessert

You knew there would have to be dessert involved, didn't you?

Strawberries Newport. Hold on tight! It was very windy.

Look! Two sporks! I shared. It's a Sabbath miracle!

Arts Festival - Sunday after church!

Yummy Indian food. It was very good.


I'm so happy he doesn't think my underwear is giant.

The Pastor, who doesn't do laundry, who isn't allowed to touch the laundry, has installed a clothesline for me.

This gadget, he said, is to hang tiny things, small things - like your underwear.

I love him.

I used my clothesline for the first time today. Dr. J. Matthew Sleeth - I listened to you (and the Pastor). I'm serving God and saving the planet. And as an added bonus, when I was hanging wash on the line, I told the Pastor we could pretend like I was the sweet and innocent farm girl hanging laundry, and he was the sexy stranger who happened across our land. The Pastor chastised me for talking like this, but hey - I'm only trying to make this stuff fun.

What am I supposed to to with the dryer sheets? Hang them on the line too?

I now know that every time I use the dryer, 5 pounds of coal is used.

Sigh. I just hope I haven't put some poor coal miner out of work now.

it's a mad, mad world

My Mad Farmer in his overly-ambitious garden. Yes, he did get a bit carried away.

On a side note, if you happen to have any recipes for dishes that feature onions and potatoes, send them my way.


recent pics

Costa Rica, Tulsa, Chicago and home again, home again (jiggity jig) just in time for our anniversary.



here comes Peter Cottontail!

After the great Valentine's Day debacle of 2008, the Pastor had me send him an e-mail detailing all the dates I expected presents. I know, romantic, huh? However, it is highly effective and efficient. This is what happens when you marry a Scholar.

In my e-mail, I'm fairly sure I covered just about everything - Groundhog Day, Arbor Day, Flag Day (oddly enough - the Pastor's b-day!) but now I'm really not sure for which holidays I made demands, so I don't know if I should be excited or bracing myself for disappointment this weekend.

It's exhausting.

I'm already slightly disappointed. There's no little kids around here. No big fluffy dresses, no hats, no gloves. No eggs to hunt. No one (but me) excited about the Bunny coming.

I'm making Nate dye eggs with me. The 13 year old is thrilled. And it's not like the good ol' days when you could stick him in an empty bathtub with the eggs and dye for easy mess clean-up. Nope, the gangly, taller-than-me teenager will have to "help" me at the kitchen counter. He'll probably want to dye all the eggs black, or make me figure out some way to put the Hurley logo on them.

And I'm trying to be a good daughter and make Easter dinner. Since Dad is on the mend, thought I would make the traditional Easter dinner of enchiladas. I was even going to put meat in some of them. I hear some people like that. Changed my mind, now it's the traditional Easter dinner of taco salad. But now I am making dinner on Saturday, and Mom is making the ham (her claim of the tradiional Easter meal) on Sunday. So now we are both cooking??? What's up with that? Nice work, Dad! : )

But I'd think that if the Pastor was going to celebrate anything, it would be Easter.

Anywho, just in case, I wouldn't want the Pastor hoppin' down any bunny trails, so I've included some visual imagery here. I know how boys like visual imagery. I do what I can.

Mom already gave me my white chocolate rabbit. But don't forget, everything at Godiva? Half price on Monday!

You're welcome.

and p.s. if I got one of these Bonnie Cashin bags in my basket? I promise I'll never, ever want another Coach bag as long as I live.*

*As long as I live throughout the duration of this season of bags.

Thank you Easter Bunny.


Rob Riley's Fantasy Factory

I have a wild, fantastical imagination. I blame it on all those books I read as a child. Cursed reading!

Poor Pastor. If he only knew what was in my head. He doesn't hardly stand a chance.

Before we go on these trips, the romantic things I imagine! A trip to the beach! I conjure up visions of flow-y dresses and romantic handheld walks. Some of that happened, but -

I almost never imagine ahead of time that a hippie will touch every single one of my fingers, one by one (one of these trips I'm going to have to remember to say the first touch is free, the rest will cost you $5 per finger. I thought I'd learned this lesson a long time ago in Chicago when that man asked to touch my shiny hair. Think, Robyn, think!!!!). Or a goth man on Venice Beach will ask me if I've ever wet my pants. The Pastor refusing to stop re-working his scholarly paper, him at the computer in our swanky hotel room, me falling asleep while reading the Twilight book (another cursed stupid fantasy inspiring book!) while I'm waiting on him to come to bed. Or, him, finally in the bed with me, but us in the hotel "annex" next door to the two homeless guys who scraped up enough cash to get a room for the night, and leave their t.v. on at full volume against our adjoining wall to celebrate.

California? It's got a bad reputation, that's what I think. My coffee was cheaper there! Think of all the money I'd save! I could have stayed there forever. Me, the Pastor, our Chevy Aveo rental and Madge. Pricelining our way through the Golden State, going from hotel to hotel every night, buying our clothes at whatever Goodwill we stumble upon.

Unlike most of our trips, I didn't get a single bout of homesickness. Sure, I thought of Nate, but I thought of him in terms of telling Mom to stick him on a plane with the good cupcakes hidden in the deep freeze (You didn't think you'd get to keep him forever, did you Mom : ) ?). You gotta have something to munch on while you are reading all those books!

Thanks for taking me to the beach Pastor.


how to fuel up your vehicle in 32 easy steps

1. Ascertain location of car. Long story - but 6 cars and 2 drivers. Not as easy to find car as you might think.

2. Start engine. Sigh in complete and utter exasperation at fuel gauge because the Fuel Fairy is conveniently out of the country when you need gas in your car.

3. Contemplate driving one of the other five vehicles. No, I can do this!

4. Pull into gas station #1.

5. Think hard - which car are you driving? Which side of the car is gas tank on? OK, got that figured out. Pull up next to pump.

6. Note that all pumps are covered up. Leave gas station.

7. Drive to gas station #2.

8. Swipe card. I'm on the right path now!

9. Remove gas cap. Stare hard at gas cap mentally willing self to remember to place it back on and not drive off without it.

10. Enter zip code? What fresh heck is this? When did they start requiring my postal code for gas? Is it really their beeswax? But this is the trade-off you must have when you choose to deal with machines/robots instead of humans.

11. Enter zip code.

12. Enter zip code.

13. Enter zip code.

14. Get ready to walk inside gas station.

15. Greet attendant as he walks out. Apparently, I do get to deal with a human. The key pad is not working.

16. Drive to another pump.

17. Swipe card.

18. Enter zip code!

19. Wait.

20. Hang up phone with Mom. It's just too complicated to do all this at once!

21. Wait.

22. Wait.

23. Standing outside at corner gas station, look like stereotypical dumb blonde wearing heels with shiny red car who doesn't have a clue what she's doing.

24. What am I doing wrong? When did it become so freakin' hard to get gas? Doubt entire existence.

25. Count to ten. Once I reach ten, if something hasn't happened, I'm off to gas station #3.

26. As I get to ten, pump comes on.

27. Begin fueling.

28. Talk to other person fueling up about how hard it is to get gas.

29. Talk to attendant again as he comes out and apologizes for delay in pump coming on (Ha! : ) I didn't do anything wrong!)

30. Remember to place gas cap back on! Huzzah!

31. Wish to live in magical land I've heard of called "Oregon" where they don't let amateurs attempt this feat.

32. Message Pastor how much I miss him.



someday I will live by the beach

someday I will feel sand between my toes everyday

someday I will put my feet in the ocean everyday

someday I will see palm trees everyday

someday I will live in a place where I can have an avocado tree in my backyard

and someday I will live in a place where I can wear my bikini even when I still look like this

(btw, this pic was the deciding factor in not getting "that special surgery")