Needing The Silence: Gluten Free Pumpkin Pie Spiced Cake

Today is Monday...and for most people, that means returning to the grindstone, Facebook status updates that are summed up by a resounding "ugh," and larger than normal pots of coffee.  For me, it means silence. Sweet, blessed silence.

I'm an introvert.  I'm the kind of introvert that has risked a bladder infection (or two) rather than make my way to the bathroom, because I know a dozen or so church ladies are hanging out in the hallway. 

Small talk is the silent killer.

Which reminds me of one of my favorite jokes: How many introverts does it take to change a light bulb?  None.  Having the light on, just invites people to come into the room to visit. (Been there!)

But of course, in my line of work, I can turn the extrovert on when I need to.  And my Father and I did just that on Saturday when we participated in a local craft fair...he, selling his Sleeping Village Pottery creations... and I, selling my Just One Bite bits!

It was exciting...affirming...exhausting... and though neither of us will be paying off the house any time soon with what we made in sales...we DID make back the entrance fee.  So.  There's that.  (You know, aim for the stars, I always say.)

And as a thank you to those who came out (as if ANY of you might ever find this blog?!) and a better-late-than-never kick off to pumpkin season, here's Just One Bite's Gluten Free Pumpkin Pie Spiced Cake, for one!

What you'll need:
2 Tablespoons almond flour (also known as almond meal)
1 Tablespoon rice flour (white or brown)
1/4 Teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 Teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 Teaspoon allspice
1 Teaspoon brown sugar
1/4 Teaspoon baking powder
dash of salt
3 teaspoons water
2 teaspoons oil (coconut or veggie)
2 Teaspoons pumpkin puree (or sour cream)
dash of vanilla

What to do:
Ideally, you mix the dry stuff together first, then add the wet ingredients.  But I'm not expecting someone that is making a cake in the microwave, to care too much about ideals.  So just mix it all together.  Then pop it in the microwave for about a minute.  Microwaves vary, so I'd keep an eye on it...but other than that...just enjoy! 

And take a bit of silence when you can....

A Little Preachy: Bathsheba

On Sunday, I'll be supply preaching for this little church up North.

Normally, when I supply preach, I prepare a fairly innocuous sermon...you know, wherein I'll mention repeatedly, the words love, peace, and hope.  I'll speak to Jesus' command to serve and be served and at the end of the morning, I'll pray... pray that each might be surprised by God, emboldened by God , and filled by God that week.  I do this, mostly because (generally), I don't know the congregation -- I don't know their story or their joys or their sorrows or their fears...so I figure it never hurts to hear that God is present and that God loves you.  But I also do this, because it's an easy message to bring.  Let's face it...it's a rare day, when someone gets up and walks out, because you said, "no matter what, God loves you."

But, I thought maybe I'd mix it up a bit.  So, this Sunday, I'll be preaching from 2 Samuel 11:1-15.  I'll give you a moment to look it up.   


By Ernst Fuchs; I am struck deeply,
by David's tear as he kisses Bathsheba.

                                              





















I figure if you can't talk about lust, adultery, sex, manipulation, corruption, trickery, pregnancy, and murder from the pulpit....what CAN you talk about?  Amiright?  

Besides.  The "love of God" is getting boring.  

(Please, oh please, note the sarcasm.)

The Athlete: In Training

Every now and then, my Mother will get it in her head, that she'd like to compete in some sort of sporting event... and believing me to be an athlete, she will often drag me along.

A few days ago, she announced that she'd like to do a "team triathlon" with my Aunt, who would round out our trusty trio.

My Aunt has a pool, so it made sense that she would and could, take care of the swimming portion of our triathlon.  So that left running and cycling up for grabs.  The conversation, via text, went something like this:

Mom: Do you want to run or bike?
Me: I really like to sit.  I'm choosing the bike.
Mom: Do you know how long each leg is?

Well, do you?  I do.  And it's not pretty.  The swimming leg, is one mile.  We figured it out, and my Aunt will have to swim the length of her pool, 97 times.  I say, good luck with that.  The running portion is a 10k... my Mother has done a few 5k's in her life and I think she can probably handle this with ease, given some training and time. The cycling... well, the cycling is TWENTY FIVE miles.  So...

Today, I pulled my bike out for the first time in seven years. 

I rode one mile.

In seven minutes.

And very nearly threw up.

This should go well.

A New Venture: Just One Bite

So, "way back when," I mentioned that I had a new idea brewing...one that didn't involve pumpkin but promised to require loads of sugar and moderate amounts of freaking out. 

The freak out stage is nearly complete... and the sugar is here to stay.  I give you my latest venture:

justonebite.yolasite.com

Tonight I take my product to the greater public...starting with the Belton Farmers Market. Yep.  I'm hittin' the big time. 

Dry Bones: Blueberry Pie Filling

I'm serving a church right now, that's about to suck me dry.  I mean really, bone chillingly, joint achingly, dry.

There's a saying, that travels around pretty frequently with us church-y types, that laughingly says: "The church would be perfect, if it weren't for the people."

Up until these past few months... such a statement always made me sort-a sad, in that "what a shame that some poor soul came up with that sentence, no doubt, as a result of their circumstances" sort of way.  But now I get it.

The people...
...are tiresome.
...and angry.
...and hateful.
...and passive aggressive.
...and manipulative.
...and sick.
...and needy.
...and whiny.
...and they don't wear white until after Memorial Day.  (Which means, by the way, that I was not to be trusted for the first two months...me...with my white pants and all, on *gasp* May 3rd.)

And I drag my dry bones home...waiting for the next ball to drop...knowing that THIS is why clergy have a disproportionately high percentage of heart attacks. 

Then I sink into my lounge chair, eating several servings of ice cream...okay, so maybe THIS is why clergy have a disproportionately high percentage of heart attacks...to satiate my aching soul and I wonder why I can go months without serving the church -- longing, gut wrenching months -- but when I get the chance, when I get the call...

...it hurts.

And then I remind myself that...

the people...
...are human.

And these humans, especially in this particular church... have the decked stacked against them.

Yet despite that stacked deck and their distaste for white capris even when the thermometer reads 91*...God's Spirit emerges...albeit, sometimes, begrudgingly or hesitantly or slowly... and you find...

Though some are tiresome... there are those who will lift them up.
Though some are angry... there are those with a good word.
Though some are hateful... there are those who offer forgiveness.
Though some are passive aggressive... there are those who will call them on it.
Though some are manipulative... there are those who are not.
Though some are sick... there are those who will visit them.
Though some are needy... there are those who will provide.
Though some are whiny... there are those who will sing.

And I suppose, if I were to be honest, it would be just as appropriate to say, "the church would be perfect, if it weren't for the clergy."

...who is so very human.  Bones and all.

I trust this moment of humanness will pass for this church... and it will not be so hard, so lonesome, so aching.  But I also trust that the humanness will remain for this church... and a world will be reminded that even dry bones can dance.

And when that day comes, I will need something besides all that ice cream I'm eating... so, I made Blueberry Pie Filling.

What you'll need:

10 Cups blueberries, washed
½ Cup water
1 ½ Cups sugar
6 Tablespoons cornstarch
5 Tablespoons bottled lemon juice
2 Quart sized canning jars

Wash the blueberries and set aside. Sterilize 2, one quart jars along with the lids in boiling water or in a dishwasher run without soap.

In a large stockpot bring the water, sugar, corn starch and lemon juice to a boil.  Pour in the blueberries and bring the mixture back to a boil, stirring continuously for about 5 minutes while the berries release their juices and the mixture thickens, becoming blue and glossy.

Set a funnel over a quart jar and ladle in the blueberry mixture, leaving a 1″ headspace. Repeat with second quart jar. Place the sterilized lids on the jar and seal them with the rims, only tightening the ring as much as you can with two fingers.

Place the jars in a pot of boiling water standing upright. Make sure the water covers the tops of the jars. Boil for 30 minutes, starting the timer when the water has returned to a boil.

Remove jars and place in a cool, dry place on a kitchen towel. Allow to cool overnight. Store jars for the long term in a cool, dry place until using.

******

I had fully planned to store and save this pie filling...for that rainy day or for when bones were once again alive...but unfortunately, the lids didn't seal and the jars overflowed.  So for now, they sit in my fridge...waiting.  Waiting for white pants and soothed souls...

Soothing: Pumpkin Frozen Yogurt

We're all adults here, right? I mean, if I whispered the acronym "OBGYN" in your ear, you wouldn't giggle and turn red in the face? You wouldn't snort coffee out of your nose and politely excuse yourself to "teh-hee" in private?

Well, if you can handle it, carry on. But seriously, if you absolutely can't read through those five letters without snickering... and trust me, I'd understand...you'll want to kindly turn to the next blog.

Because today, I had my wellness exam with my... well, you know.

Mind you, the last time I had the lovely experience of visiting my friendly acronym, it was 2007. So, I was a little overdue. And since I only shave my legs every five years or so, it seemed to coincide perfectly. (I think I've mentioned it before... but it bears repeating. Brett is a lucky, lucky dude.)

Which is where we run into troubles. Shaving my legs.

Apparently, I pulled out a razor that had been sitting in my drawer since 1983 and decided it was the best possible tool to tackle the job at hand.

Running low on body wash - aka. shaving cream for the lazy sorts - I decided to use my face wash. I know... that doesn't seem quite right... but when you buy your face wash from Sam's Club, and literally have a GALLON of it sitting under your sink... you feel as if you can use it freely and unabashedly.

I was all lathered up and getting ready to start the taming process...when my leg started to tingle a bit.

Ignore it, Trish. That just means "it's working." Huh? What? Yeah. Both "huh?" AND "what?" would have been good questions to ask at the time. Carry on...

The next series of events, went something like this: Leg one done.... peek out of the shower... see I have exactly 15 minutes to finish, get dressed and head out the door... frantically get second leg done... hop out of shower... admonish self for hopping... realize I have nothing more than a washcloth to dry off with... make note to curse husband and his towel stealing ways... grab for the bottt............................... YEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

So. You know the tracks that Tonka Trucks make in a sand box? Well, that's pretty much what the inside of my thighs look like... and the backs of my legs... and my bikini line.... and my underarms......

As it turns out, my face wash was 18% Salicylic Acid. Yep. Did. Not. Know. That. Coupled with a somewhat suspect razor, time constraints, and shall we say, tender skin.... well. It just didn't end well. Any attempt to impress by new doctor with my stunning good looks and impeccable grooming techniques... failed miserably.

And if you thought I couldn't make the tie between my OBGYN visit and fro-yo.... you were mistaken. Well, that.... and there's a chance that you don't know me at all.

Because we all need something soothing at the end of the day.... here's Pumpkin Frozen Yogurt. Which tastes like Pumpkin Cheesecake. Which can't be a bad thing when you decide to get gussied up for your OBGYN and end up instead, lighting the lower half of your body on fire. And which I hope you enjoy.

What you'll need for Pumpkin Frozen Yogurt:
4 Cups homemade yogurt
1 Cup pumpkin puree
1/3 Cup plus one teaspoon maple syrup
1/3 Cup plus one tablespoon brown sugar
1/2 Teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 Teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 Teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 Cup toasted pecans (I go heavy on the nuts. No comments, please.)

In case you wonder how to toast a pecan... heat the oven to 350 degrees. Spread chopped pecans over a foil lined baking sheet. Bake pecans for 3 minutes. Give 'em a stir. Bake for an additional 3 to 5 minutes, or until the pecans begin to give off a sweet scent. Really watch them though...they tend get excited and burn themselves. Allow to cool.

In a large mixing bowl, combine all the ingredients (minus the pecans) and mix well. Use a whisk to break up the lumps in the mixture that come because of the homemade texture of the yogurt. Pour the soupy mixture into a prepared ice cream maker and give it a whirl for 30-40 minutes. At the conclusion of the cycle, thrown in the toasted pecans and let it go for another spin or two. Freeze for at least 3-4 hours prior to serving.

The Famous: Depp vs. Thirdstory(ies)

So several years ago... when Pirates of the Caribbean wasn't an overworked, money making franchise, and simply one single, awesome movie... Brett and I and a whole gaggle of youth from the church we served, went to a red carpet event for the flick.  We hadn't actually intended to be at the red carpet... we really just wanted to go to Disney Land...but sometimes, Brett's incessant need to be as UNinformed as possible, has a few benefits.  Like showing up to meet Mickey Mouse, and instead, meeting Johnny Depp.  Yep.  You read that correctly.  I met Johnny Depp.

Other "stars" were there too... Danny Bonaduce, Teri Hatcher, Rachel Hunter, Jane Seymour, Lea Thompson, John Stamos... Brett's favorite, Kenny G... and the man who's inspired a thousand memes... David Hasselhoff.  And of course, Keira Knightly is just as beautiful in person as she is in movies.  Orlando Bloom is pretty beautiful too. 

But the clouds parted when Johnny came toward us and stopped, not even two steps from where we stood.   Quivering with excitement behind the burlap rope meant to separate the famous and the not famous, while holding my husbands hand, I jumped up and down, and yelled as loud as humanly possible, "Oh my gosh Johnny!!  I love you!  I love you so much!!"

Then I composed myself, gracefully readjusted my Mickey Mouse ears, and gave a little shout out to God for the husband who loves me...despite me.

And today... I'd like to share a similar sentiment about a friend... who's walking her own little red carpet as we speak: she has been nominated for a Homie.  A what?  Yeah.  A Homie (via Apartment Therapy).

I know.  It's overwhelming for her as well. 

Maybe not Johnny Depp overwhelming... but we can't all have that sultry, bad boy look that makes a gal swoon.

But I'd like to see her win.  Mainly for the big bucks she'll make.  Fifty big ones in the ol' pocket.  But also because sometimes you write and you write... and really, you write for yourself... but I don't know of a single person, who doesn't like to know that what they've written, has mattered (yes... that would be the preacher in me, talking).  So let her know that it's mattered.  That the hours in front of the computer, the countless photos that have been taken and uploaded, the rewrites and the spell checks, the heartfelt words... that they all mattered.  Or at the very least, made you smile or think or gave you an idea....

You can vote for her blog here or here, after checking it out of course, here.

"Oh my gosh ThirdStory(ies)!!  I love you! I love you so much!!"