*finally heard he was ok at 3 am, home at 8:30 am, safe, fed, my heart reassured, back out on the fireground tonight again cuz he can't stay away from it. Whew.
So glad our friend Troy is going to be okay. Scary night for everyone and I'm glad it's over.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
(please come home to me)
It's one am and I am sitting curled on my couch with my laptop saying things to myself like
You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee
and
this is it! it's too scary! do some other job!
and
clicking refresh on the different facebook statuses of my friends whose husbands are also out tonight
fighting fire and
making their wives crazy with worry.
A long, long time ago, I visited Daniel at the FD and they got called out while I was there. The address was on my way home, so I drove by the fire. There was a gray haze and the lights flashing made everything look ominous and eerie and even though at that time I was well accustomed to the fire service, I drove home f.r.e.a.k.ing out. There's something about seeing the stuff your man is walking into and your mind wickedly replaying those awful scenes from Ladder 49 (that I never should have watched). . . and after that night I told myself that I would never do that ever again.
Tonight. . . broke my promise to myself and oh I am getting sorrier by the minute. We returned our Christmas movies and Cambria begged to see Daddy. I called him and he said to stop by; we did and he came out to the van to chat with me and the kids. The alarm went off while we were there and I was like, oh, whatever, it's probably totally nothing and they get to see their cool dad be the engine driver and what kid doesn't dig that.
So we followed, at a subdued distance, Cambria informing me that when she grew up, her daddy {read: husband} would be a fighterfire and she would live right here in this area.
I started getting a bad feeling when they all just kept going. So often alarms get cancelled, everyone turns around and goes home, and it's just cool lights and wasted fuel. I like wasted fuel.
When I saw an orange glow coming out of one of the industrial buildings and the cops blocking the road I regretted my decision to follow. Lights flashing and gray haze and the weird odor of burning destruction and we turned around and came home. Stupid me.
And my guy goes in there. Oh please, be smart, be safe, don't let anyone be in there, just let the building burn, please be okay. . .
I put my babies to bed and hope to hear that everything is okay. I wait for a response to my texts. One of our friends is now in the hospital from burns. I am going c.r.a.z.y. After two hours, I get a garbled text from Daniel saying that he is ok and it's a BigveryBad fire.
Um, I knew that. . . please, please, come home to me.
I think that I'm so thankful I kissed him goodbye and I think that why on earth was he talking about life insurance and I think that I wish he'd get just a little bit hurt so he wouldn't be out there anymore and I'd know that he's okay and then I berate myself for thinking that. I think that I couldn't be a military wife and I think that I couldn't handle my husband being a cop and I think that he'll be so tired and crabby when he comes home and I eat four magic cookie bars and berate myself for that, too.
This will all be funny in the morning, right? He will have his big story to tell and I will be limp and groggy with relief and we will make some strong coffee for me and some cappuccino for him and we will just chill out and continue our Christmas vacation.
Please come home to me.
You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee
and
this is it! it's too scary! do some other job!
and
clicking refresh on the different facebook statuses of my friends whose husbands are also out tonight
fighting fire and
making their wives crazy with worry.
A long, long time ago, I visited Daniel at the FD and they got called out while I was there. The address was on my way home, so I drove by the fire. There was a gray haze and the lights flashing made everything look ominous and eerie and even though at that time I was well accustomed to the fire service, I drove home f.r.e.a.k.ing out. There's something about seeing the stuff your man is walking into and your mind wickedly replaying those awful scenes from Ladder 49 (that I never should have watched). . . and after that night I told myself that I would never do that ever again.
Tonight. . . broke my promise to myself and oh I am getting sorrier by the minute. We returned our Christmas movies and Cambria begged to see Daddy. I called him and he said to stop by; we did and he came out to the van to chat with me and the kids. The alarm went off while we were there and I was like, oh, whatever, it's probably totally nothing and they get to see their cool dad be the engine driver and what kid doesn't dig that.
So we followed, at a subdued distance, Cambria informing me that when she grew up, her daddy {read: husband} would be a fighterfire and she would live right here in this area.
I started getting a bad feeling when they all just kept going. So often alarms get cancelled, everyone turns around and goes home, and it's just cool lights and wasted fuel. I like wasted fuel.
When I saw an orange glow coming out of one of the industrial buildings and the cops blocking the road I regretted my decision to follow. Lights flashing and gray haze and the weird odor of burning destruction and we turned around and came home. Stupid me.
And my guy goes in there. Oh please, be smart, be safe, don't let anyone be in there, just let the building burn, please be okay. . .
I put my babies to bed and hope to hear that everything is okay. I wait for a response to my texts. One of our friends is now in the hospital from burns. I am going c.r.a.z.y. After two hours, I get a garbled text from Daniel saying that he is ok and it's a BigveryBad fire.
Um, I knew that. . . please, please, come home to me.
I think that I'm so thankful I kissed him goodbye and I think that why on earth was he talking about life insurance and I think that I wish he'd get just a little bit hurt so he wouldn't be out there anymore and I'd know that he's okay and then I berate myself for thinking that. I think that I couldn't be a military wife and I think that I couldn't handle my husband being a cop and I think that he'll be so tired and crabby when he comes home and I eat four magic cookie bars and berate myself for that, too.
This will all be funny in the morning, right? He will have his big story to tell and I will be limp and groggy with relief and we will make some strong coffee for me and some cappuccino for him and we will just chill out and continue our Christmas vacation.
Please come home to me.
Monday, December 26, 2011
more sugar? (orange pecan fudge)
Oh like you need more sugar right now.
I know.
But I like using my blog for a recipe dump. . . that way someone as disorganized as myself can always find that elusive favorite recipe without pulling the refrigerator away from the wall and fishing behind it.
This is (surprise) my mom's fudge recipe and it doesn't quite feel like Christmas without it.
Orange Pecan Fudge
6 cups semi sweet chocolate chips
2 7 oz. containers marshmallow creme
grated peel from one orange
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups toasted pecan pieces
3 cups sugar
2 sticks butter
1 1/3 cup evaporated milk
Butter a 9 x 13 pan.
Have first group of ingredients assembled in large bowl ready to pour quickly. *Tip: I always pour the chocolate chips into the bowl and then carefully scoop the marshmallow creme into a well in the chips so that when I'm ready to dump, I don't have to scrape any sticky residue off of the sides of the bowl.
Mix together second group of ingredients and bring to a gentle boil on medium heat. Boil for four to five minutes. Remove from heat, add chocolate chip mixture and stir briskly until chips are melted.
Working quickly, pour fudge mixture into the buttered pan and quickly spread out.
Let cool and cut into pieces.
I know.
But I like using my blog for a recipe dump. . . that way someone as disorganized as myself can always find that elusive favorite recipe without pulling the refrigerator away from the wall and fishing behind it.
This is (surprise) my mom's fudge recipe and it doesn't quite feel like Christmas without it.
Orange Pecan Fudge
6 cups semi sweet chocolate chips
2 7 oz. containers marshmallow creme
grated peel from one orange
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups toasted pecan pieces
3 cups sugar
2 sticks butter
1 1/3 cup evaporated milk
Butter a 9 x 13 pan.
Have first group of ingredients assembled in large bowl ready to pour quickly. *Tip: I always pour the chocolate chips into the bowl and then carefully scoop the marshmallow creme into a well in the chips so that when I'm ready to dump, I don't have to scrape any sticky residue off of the sides of the bowl.
Mix together second group of ingredients and bring to a gentle boil on medium heat. Boil for four to five minutes. Remove from heat, add chocolate chip mixture and stir briskly until chips are melted.
Working quickly, pour fudge mixture into the buttered pan and quickly spread out.
Let cool and cut into pieces.
Friday, December 16, 2011
five dozen whoopie pies
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me:
one jpeg that won't format
two plumbing problems (think bathroom)
three gingerbread houses
four trips to classes
FIVE DOZEN WHOOPIE PIES
oh. . forget the numbering. . . (it wasn't rhyming anyway)
Cambria somersaulted off the couch. *into the Christmas tree* *ornaments flying*
Jacob told me today that when he grew up he would live in our town because he wanted his children to be near their grandparents. . . *long pause* {brown eyes} "plus then I would be close to you." awwwww. . .
Eli charmed all the helpers at Fareway. . . so much that they forgot to load the milk I paid for.
I had lunch with a girl friend and it's always a good day when you can have girl talk, queso, and lime in your Coke all in the same hour.
We missed out on our sappy Friday night Christmas movie because of bad attitudes and disobedience. I went to put the kids to bed and discovered Cambria's room a whirlwind of wrapping paper, ribbon, scissors, tape, gift tags and crumpled tissue. *add twenty minutes to bedtime routine*
I read two chapters in Rachel Jancovic's Loving the Little Years and was challenged that order and organization come from my attitude, not from what is actually happening. She words it much better than I do. (If you have littles, pop her book in your Amazon cart asap. I am loving it.)
And since its two minutes away from twelve o'clock (my nod to the Twelve Days of Christmas song) I'd better wrap this up and go finish my FIVE DOZEN WHOOPIE PIES.
*** My mom has been making these every year for as long as I can remember. She ties each little cake up with a birthday candle and red yarn . . .birthday cakes for Jesus.***
Here's the recipes I used tonight. (No one answered the phone at the home front so I had to look to Google. sniff sniff)
I used this recipe for the cakes and this one for the creme filling. And wow, are those little babies good. I had one since the Slim Fast I was going to have for a fourth meal wouldn't work since I didn't have any milk to mix it with. You know how it is.
Sweet dreams!
one jpeg that won't format
two plumbing problems (think bathroom)
three gingerbread houses
four trips to classes
FIVE DOZEN WHOOPIE PIES
oh. . forget the numbering. . . (it wasn't rhyming anyway)
Cambria somersaulted off the couch. *into the Christmas tree* *ornaments flying*
Jacob told me today that when he grew up he would live in our town because he wanted his children to be near their grandparents. . . *long pause* {brown eyes} "plus then I would be close to you." awwwww. . .
Eli charmed all the helpers at Fareway. . . so much that they forgot to load the milk I paid for.
I had lunch with a girl friend and it's always a good day when you can have girl talk, queso, and lime in your Coke all in the same hour.
We missed out on our sappy Friday night Christmas movie because of bad attitudes and disobedience. I went to put the kids to bed and discovered Cambria's room a whirlwind of wrapping paper, ribbon, scissors, tape, gift tags and crumpled tissue. *add twenty minutes to bedtime routine*
I read two chapters in Rachel Jancovic's Loving the Little Years and was challenged that order and organization come from my attitude, not from what is actually happening. She words it much better than I do. (If you have littles, pop her book in your Amazon cart asap. I am loving it.)
And since its two minutes away from twelve o'clock (my nod to the Twelve Days of Christmas song) I'd better wrap this up and go finish my FIVE DOZEN WHOOPIE PIES.
*** My mom has been making these every year for as long as I can remember. She ties each little cake up with a birthday candle and red yarn . . .birthday cakes for Jesus.***
Here's the recipes I used tonight. (No one answered the phone at the home front so I had to look to Google. sniff sniff)
I used this recipe for the cakes and this one for the creme filling. And wow, are those little babies good. I had one since the Slim Fast I was going to have for a fourth meal wouldn't work since I didn't have any milk to mix it with. You know how it is.
Sweet dreams!
Saturday, December 3, 2011
perfect christmas tree photo shoot (not)
Here is Eli. . . laughing at the crazy family he's joined. . .
And here's an attempt at getting a photo with the fam and our Christmas tree. . .
(not stolen this year)
and also the smallest e.v.e.r. . .
and not from a romantic tree farm, but from Menards
two balsam firs left, propped in the balsam fir corner. . .
(what, people? it's only December third!!!)
we took one. . .
and then we managed to get every head in the picture. . .
then we had to keep trying for a better one. . .
with the camera battery light flashing (story of my life)
and Jacob and Cambria were both trying to stand on the same chair
and Jacob fell off. You can see him in the lower left had corner.
He's crying.
And this last one. . . well. . . this is why we get other people to take pictures for us.
But I can't help but thank God for the joy that He's brought this year. . .
so thankful. . .
my heart is so full. . .
tonight we eat our annual Christmas tree enchiladas. . .
kids go to bed happily relatively peacefully
Daniel's having fun at his gym night. .
I put lights on the tree and cuddle Eli and turn Michael Buble up. . .
sitting here writing and eating peppermint patties (I think they're fat free)
and I just praise God.
So many empty places in my heart that He's filled.
Thankful for my crazy little family. . . each one.
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