Kelley Highway

Chocolate Cake, Of Course

2012-02-10T06:00:00.000-06:00

Hearts and flowers,

Poetry,

Love songs,

Ribbons and bows,

Yeah, I'd rather have the chocolate, too!

Recently we went out to dinner with friends and afterward, for dessert and coffee we went to the home of one of the couples. Because the hostess wanted to serve her mother-in-law's delicious cooked-on-the-stovetop chocolate sauce, and because said lovely hostess possesses no oven, I was asked to bring a chocolate cake.

Rather than bake a single, larger cake, I broke out my sweet little tins and baked individual miniature cakes.

Aren't they cute?

I used that tried and true recipe that's on the Hershey's Cocoa can. You know, the one that's got boiling water as an ingredient, and the whole thing's prepared in just one bowl?

Before I share the recipe though, here are my tips for greasing the pans for a chocolate cake. I wanted to take pretty little cakes over there, right? Not clumped with white flour still glued to them from the cake pans. So instead of using flour for greasing and "flouring" the pan, I substituted cocoa powder for the flour!

First, grease the pan liberally with shortening.

Next, dust with a little cocoa powder (can be sifted).

Here's what that looks like.

Finally, repeat.

That's right, grease it and dust it with cocoa again.

Here's what that looks like.

This will ensure that your cake turns out easily after it's baked...

and cooled for ten minutes.

Just look at those perfect babies!

The ladies remarked what fun little cakes these are when I baked them in the little tins. Aren't they?!

Believe me, I've used these cheap little pans for more than baking cakes. They also make adorable jello/jello salad molds.

And, the ice molds I make with them are especially cute floating in the punch bowl! Little ice molds are so do-ahead easy, too. Prepare them a week earlier than the event, and when they're frozen and ready to use, pop them out of their pans, bag them in freezer bags and they're all set to go!

As promised, here's the One Bowl Chocolate Cake recipe! Happy weekend!

Directions

Preheat oven to 350F degrees and prepare your baking pan(s).

In a large mixing bowl, stir together to combine well:

2 cups granulated sugar

1 3/4 cups flour

3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

MEANWHILE, boil some water. You'll need 1 cup of boiling water soon.

Next, place in a 2-cup measuring glass:

1 cup milk

1/2 cup vegetable oil

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Use a fork to combine that well. Now pour the liquid mixture over the dry ingredients in the large mixing bowl. On medium speed, mix for 2 minutes with an electric mixer. (I did NOT use an electric mixer!)

Last, add and combine well:

1 cup boiling water

Pour cake batter into prepared baking pan(s), filling about half-full. Bake 30 to 35 minutes in preheated oven until cake tests done with a toothpick. Cool in the pan(s) 10 minutes. Remove cake(s) and place on wire racks to cool completely.

Now, to get the lovely hostess's delicious chocolate sauce recipe!

More Spoonfuls o' Hugs and Kisses

2012-02-09T06:00:00.000-06:00

Palm trees are green,

Ripe mangoes are yellow,

A spoonful o' kisses

For a handsome fellow!

At Christmastime, we took Candy Cane Mice over to the pediatric patients of National Children's Hospital, and before New Year's Day, I already knew what I'd be taking to them for Valentine's Day: Spoonfuls o' Kisses!

Here's what I used:

300 Hershey kisses (no variety of colored wrappers besides silver foil)

[Each bag cost P230 = U$5.61 and contained about 50 kisses (11 cents US per Kiss).]

300 Silver Crunch candy pieces (similar to Krackle bars)

[Each bag cost P25 = U$0.61 and contained about 50 pieces (US 1 cent per piece). I purchased these for both color and price!]

300 colored spoons (gorgeous colors of yellow, coral, turquoise and lavender)

[Each package contained 25 spoons and cost P25 = US 2 cents+ per spoon.]

Silver curly ribbon (because no store carried white curly ribbon)

[One spool yielded 300 four-inch cuts for P52.50 = U$1.28.]

Plastic kitchen wrap (acts as a "shrink wrap" around the bowl of the spoon and kisses)

[I cut pieces into squares. The box cost P30 = U$0.73.]

Kisses and spoons

Cuts of silver ribbon

How-to:

Wrap the spoons tightly with the plastic kitchen wrap,

making sure the candies won't be falling out.

Bind the wrap around the "neck" of the spoon bowl/handle

and tie securely with ribbon.

Candy is yummy,

Kisses are too

So here is a spoonful

O' kisses for you!

Here's my seriously popular 2010 post, "Spoonful o' Hugs and Kisses" and my recent post, "Sterling Spoonful o' Hugs and Kisses."

I'll share soon the happy faces of the precious pediatric patients who received their St. Valentine's Day goodies!

Sterling Spoonful o' Hugs and Kisses

2012-02-08T06:00:00.000-06:00

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Just a spoonful

o' hugs and kisses for you!

I've made a plastic spoon version of these adorable St. Valentine's Day treats for years, but never this sterling version.

I can't say that anymore!

They turned out so pretty, I just had to share.

Here in Manila

only the silver-wrapped Hershey Kisses are sold

{and they just started selling the Hug$-- ex$pen$ive!},

so for this particular post I used another locally made

foil-wrapped chocolate candy.

Wouldn't pink, red, gold or purple-wrapped Kisses

look adorable under that lace?

The only lace I had is leftover from my

Mother-of-the-Bride dress.

Then there are the Rogers sterling silver spoons

I inherited from my beloved grandmother.

After filling the bowl of the spoons with candy,

I dressed them in sage lace,

bound by narrow cream ribbon.

Wouldn't these make darling additions to a Valentine's Day table?

Or a tea with grandchildren?

Or if Dayle drops by for a perfect cuppa?

Add a place card.

Attach a love note that expresses

the poem that prefaced this post.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Here's a spoonful o' kisses for you.

Check out my seriously popular original 2010 post, Spoonful o' Hugs and Kisses, a popular wedding reception table favor idea!

Valentine's Day Sentiments

2012-02-07T06:00:00.000-06:00

For it was not into my ear you whispered
but into my heart.
It was not my lips you kissed
but my soul.
~Judy Garland

Vintage music

Gather some supplies:

-- a heart shape for tracing (I used a cereal box.)

-- a hole punch

-- clear, vinyl (used to protect table cloths)

-- scissors

-- trims and doilies for embellishing the hearts

-- narrow ribbon or yarn, etc.

-- candies

See these posts, "Easter Sentiments" and "Pumpkin Pouches" for tutorial enhancement and additional ideas.

Embellish 'em.

Lace 'em up prettily.

Fill 'em with flat candies.

Tie a bow.

Give 'em to the ones you love.

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

Linking to Before and Afters, Tell It to Me Tuesday, and Show Me What Ya Got.

Heart+Felt Valentine {Cookie} Cards

2012-02-06T06:00:00.001-06:00

A hundred hearts would be too few

To carry all my love for you.

I thought I'd share the valentines I've been working on here for awhile. I mailed several to the US mainland in mid-January to ensure they'd arrive by St. Valentine's Day. Believe me, there are no guarantees...

I said I'd share them, but I'll actually only share some of them now and the rest after St. Valentine's Day. Don't want to give everything away....

Remember my shoe rack of magazines? I was browsing through the February 2010 issue of Martha Stewart Living and saw this cookie. That would make an adorable felt cookie on a card, I thought, and I was off! From a cereal box I made two patterns, the hand and the heart.

Martha Stewart Living

February 2010

Here's a start.

I bought the friendly felt

and gemstones (gaudy, huh?)

at Carolina's here in Manila.

For those dots of frosting on the felt cookie,

I used three strands DMC floss

and made French knots.

You could otherwise

carefully dot the felt cookie with puff paint.

I had fun embellishing each heart a little differently.

This heart, below, is genuinely a bright pink,

but it photographed hot pink.

Using Aileene's Tacky Glue,

I glued vintage baby ric rac on it.

This one, below, was my least favorite-- at first.

Later, you'll see why it becomes one of my favorites!

To me, the gold on the heart, below, doesn't gel

with the purple stone.

But it does here.

Cream cardstock

Page torn from Anne Morrow Lindbergh's book

Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead

{I wish I'd added more texture to this by stitching something on it.}

Purple heart; pink vintage ric rac trim; an old ribbon rosette

Purple gemstone

This card's red, white and blue.

Again, I wish I'd added machine stitching
to texturize the paper.
{Stars?}

Cream cardstock

Page torn from a Doris Day biography;

top of the page reads

"There's No Place Like Home"

Red heart edges stitched in white DMC

Blue stone

Old Glory postage stamp

And this masculine baby

is mighty handsome!

Cream cardstock

Old card "GENTLEMEN OF QUALITY"

Red heart trimmed in gold

I'll share more soon! These have been so much fun!

Linking to Stacy's Show Me What Ya Got #60, Katie's Tell It to me Tuesday #6, Susan's Before and Afters and Linda's Nifty Thrifty Tuesday.

Shoes to Magazines

2012-02-03T06:00:00.000-06:00

A man hasn't got a corner on virtue

just because his shoes are shined.

~Anne Petry

I turned this unused shoe rack...

... into a magazine rack in my upsala.

I change the magazines seasonally.

Ten Things I Like

2012-02-02T06:00:00.001-06:00

You like that.

You love your husband.

~Hot Lips

1. I like Butter Rum Lifesavers. If you're my age, you have the sweet memory of a book of Lifesavers at Christmastime or for your birthday.

2. It's no secret. I like Erma Bombeck books. {Say that three times fast.}

3. I like my title. It's Queen.

4. I like crumbled leftover, cold cornbread in a glass of chilled milk. I like to eat it with a tea-stirring spoon.

5. I like seashells. I have a lot.

6. I like bird nests. I have ~~only one~~. {Since preparing this post weeks ago, I've acquired a second bird nest. I'll be sharing that incredibly spectacular nest soon!}

7. I like my Noritake china. It's stamped in green: PHILIPPINES. My children gave me the first few pieces of these dishes, and my sweetie purchased the rest.

8. I like mules. You never knew. Besides, I R 1. Missouri mule that is.

9. I like green. I mean, I really like green. After all. I am a redhead.

10. I like my best friend. A lot. In fact, I love him. A lot.

He's WOW-WEE on Maui, 2007

*mwah*

Woolworth's

2012-02-01T06:00:00.000-06:00

I remember this menu well.

~Mother

1950s

Mother wrote:

[Her best friend] Mary and I would walk down to Overland from junior high nearly every day after school. [This was the early '50s. Mary brushed her teeth with "Brighter Whiter Bab-O." NOT kidding.]

Babo Cleanser 1951 by DwightFrye

We'd go to Woolworth's on Woodson Road

Source

and sit at the counter.

Source

I'd usually have a ham salad sandwich and a Coke. Mary sometimes got the egg salad.

Of course, neither of us couldn't have cared less about calories because we were very thin. Those were the days.

Mail Kalikimaka circa 2009

2012-01-31T06:00:00.001-06:00

One cannot collect

all the beautiful shells on the beach.

One can collect only a few,

and they are more beautiful

if they are few.

~Anne Morrow Lindbergh,

Gift from the Sea (1955)

Post Preface: Here's a shout out to all my new Kelley Highway roadies! I appreciate the follow, and I'm enjoying checking out your blogs as well!

As a roadie on Kelley Highway, you know that I've been making progress in my efforts to bring the Guest Suite from a state of sourness to suite-ness! In so doing, I came across Mail Kalikimaka circa 2009.

From Cindy.

Cindy is my bosom friend. We are sisters from different mothers. We think alike. We see alike. We finish each other's sentences. We can read each other's mind. Oh, how I miss my sweet Cindy.

And when I discover gems like these, salt's poured into the missing Cindy wound.

I received this Christmas gift just as we were sealing the boxes during Move #18 on Guam. Sweet memories of my life on our beloved island where America's day begins... where the Pacific Ocean greets the Philippine Sea... flowed back over the shores of my mind.

Find a beautiful glass bowl, clean it until sparkling- and place some dry sand and beautiful sea glass or pebbles of various sizes in the bottom. Arrange your sea treasures artfully in your miniature "seashore terrarium." I've enclosed a few treasures I've found in places that have been a special part of my life and I know have been a part of yours as well - California, Hawaii, and the Philippines.

HAWAII

Heart Cockle

All in miniature mode

CALIFORNIA

PHILIPPINES

CALIFORNIA

PHILIPPINES

*green*

They are more beautiful

[because] they are few.

~AML

Much love to you, Cindy, circa 2012.

Visiting: Dear Venus

2012-01-30T06:00:00.005-06:00

Death leaves a heartache

no one can heal.

Love leaves a memory

no one can steal.

No tenth-birthday celebration for our sweet Cathlyn. She's gone.

Christmas Day 2011

Cathyln's mother Venus texted Annie and me Monday evening. Her message told us she had just taken a shower that morning (the hospital has a place for this for patient parents or guardians) and was fixing herself an instant oats breakfast when the doctor arrived on his morning rounds.

"Her heart is failing, m'am (mom)," Venus was informed as the doctor checked Cathlyn's vital signs.

Venus didn't want breakfast anymore. She knew the day she for so long dreaded had come. At any moment Cathlyn's battle would be over.

Dear Venus,

I've never been down the road you've traveled. Never admitted to a hospital my beautiful child, happy and full of life with only an occasional excruciatingly painful headache or steadily growing, protruding left forehead.

Never been too overwhelmed to sleep, knowing that as the sun rises on the next day my child will go under a life-threatening knife. Knives.

As she will again in a matter of months.

20 December 2011

Never camped by a child's bedside night and day, week after week, month after month after month, watching muscle mass melt away in the body I had given life.

Never known the revelation of every line of every bone, or curve of every joint over a tautly-skinned, motionless frame. She was your child, Venus, and she has never been mine.

Never gasped to discover a new bed sore on my moaning angel. On her back. On her bottom. On an ear. Never laid a banana leaf where I would normally smooth out a freshly laundered bed sheet.

The phone went silent until I heard the sniffles and rustling of a tissue. "Thank you for all you did," Venus said on the other end of the line. "I will never forget you."

"Venus," I began, "you and your precious daughter have changed my life. Your strength and your faith are an example to me. I owe you a great debt, my lovely friend, and I will never forget you."

When someone you love

becomes a memory,

the memory becomes a treasure.

Cathlyn

2002 - 2012

Windows Week, Part 5: Master Bedroom {Plus a Sunset}

2012-01-27T06:00:00.001-06:00

Let there be many windows to your soul,

that all the glory of the world may beautify it.

~Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Today's post concludes Windows Week here in the Loop, and in our master bedroom, all I can say is, "You've come a LONG way, baby!"

Below is what our master window looked like in July when we took the first look-see at our townhouse rental.

Before

iPhoto; July 2011

Yes, another Roman shade. In fact, every window in the townhouse possessed a Roman shade! Don't get me wrong-- I like Roman shades, but these were dark and very dirty!

And here's the view from the master window.

Lovely, ain't it?

After

I sheered this window with more dreamy, creamy gauze, hemmed with pinking sheers! Then I clipped simple panels of creamy linen/rayon to wooden rings. I'm still toying with the idea of lining these panels before I machine stitch a series of tucks into them, beginning about two-thirds of the way down and then finishing them with a deep hem. After they're finished, of course I'll share!

Folks, thanks for stopping by! If you haven't already shared your own thoughts, please do about:

and, of course {this post} the master!

I conclude this week of windows with a lovely time lapse Arizona sunset captured earlier this week by David of Daso Photography. I think I'll watch it again tonight and every other sunset every other night from here on out. Arizona is soooooo dear to the hearts of Hot Lips and me. When we're 80 we plan to retire there. ",)

On a sad note, though, I'll share a heartbreaking event that occurred on Monday of Windows Week.

Linking to Sew Country Chick's Sew & Tell Saturday #6.

Windows Week, Part 4: The Guest Suite

2012-01-26T06:00:00.000-06:00

So they all went away from the little log house.

The shutters were over the windows,

so the little house could not see them go.

It stayed there inside the log fence,

behind the two big oak trees

that in summertime had made green roofs

for Mary and Laura to play under.

~Laura Ingalls Wilder

Isn't that a bittersweet quote?

Did you catch Windows Week, Part 1? Part 2? Part 3? Today we're in the Guest ~~Sour~~ Suite. Slooooowly, surely it's coming suite-ly together, although it's been pretty sour since our furniture arrived from Guam in September.

Here's how it looked in August when we took possession of our townhouse rental.

BEFORE

Standing in the Guest Suite door

Looking toward far right

At right, those are a pair of closets

below, Standing at the windows above,

looking toward the left side of the room

The chest of drawers was removed by the owner at my request.

This is the view
from the window shown in the previous photo.

This is the view from the far right window,

in front of the closets.

Owned but unoccupied townhouse nextdoor

And here's what a portion of the room

looked like in mid-September.

iPhoto

AFTER

For these window treatments, I used the Hawaiian barkcloth from our master bedroom on Guam, plus more sheers of dreamy, creamy gauze.

Far left window

For the toppers, I

* chopped off the lined panels I'd used on a Guam house slider door,

* hemmed and pressed the panels, and

* pleated and stapled them to the window frame.

Far right window

For the middle window, below, I knew I wanted to place the double bed there, so I

* lined these West windows with sheets of styrofoam leftover from our refrigerator delivery,

* hung a layer of the dreamy, creamy gauze sheers over the styrofoam, and

* hung 3/4 of this cranberry-framed bamboo screen (from The Firstborn's 2003 bedroom) right on the window frame. Ta-da! Headboard!

The bed's not prettily decked yet!

Remember that we have two seasons here in Manila-- HOT and HOTTER-- I treated this "headboard" window in this way because this entire room is going to catch a lot of heat in just a few weeks. In case you're interested, this double-bed area on the top floor of our townhouse is directly over my husband's office windows.

Thanks for exiting on Kelley Highway! Tomorrow we'll conclude Windows Week in the master bedroom!

Windows Week Posts
Part 1: Cornices Anew
Part 2: Downsala Drama
Part 3: Grrrr! The Kitchen

Windows Week, Part 3: Grrrr! The Kitchen

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-06:00

Life's ups and downs

provide windows of opportunity

to determine your values and goals.

Think of using all obstacles

as stepping stones

to build the life you want.

~Marsha Sinetar

Today's Windows Week post will be quite simple. Here's our kitchen.

Before

September 2011

Remember, sometimes

I'm the Other Carol Burnett.

The Roman shades after they were taken down

SMOG!

The window's view

(identical to Hot Lips' office windows)

After

January 2012

This is the first window in the Loop which I sheered with this economically dreamy, creamy gauze. I like how it

a) covers the breathtaking window scenery

b) filters yet allows sunlight from these West windows

c) was easily hemmed using pinking sheers. *wink*

However, although I got rid of the ugly wall tiles with my adorable rattan and wicker furniture store samples, I am still Grrrr! and in need of inspiration for covering up the tiles that surround this kitchen window. Remembering that this is a rental, folks, I'd love to hear your ideas!

Miss the first two Windows Week posts?

Part 1: Cornices Anew

Part 2: Downsala Drama

Tomorrow we'll go upstairs to the Guest ~~Sour~~ Suite!

Windows Week, Part 2: Downsala Drama

2012-01-24T06:00:00.000-06:00

Begin challenging your own assumptions.

Your assumptions are your windows on the world.

Scrub them off every once in awhile,

or the light won't come in.

~Alan Alda

Did you make a pie yesterday for National Pie Day? I'd love to see your photos! Would you e-mail them to me? I share my e-mail address in my profile, "About the Driver."

Click here to see yesterday's Windows Week, Part 1!

Now, for some downsala drama. First of all, we call this space the downsala because it's the sala (Filipino, "living room") and it's in our townhouse rental's first floor.

BEFORE

October 2011

Yes, more impractical Roman shades, plus the furniture in the photo, above, eventually was removed by the owner at my request. I also removed all the clip-on lampshades from the chandelier (visible in upper right corner)-- much easier than the dining room's chandy.

Before he left for a short trip to Amsterdam a couple months back, I asked Hot Lips to install the curtain rod hardware.

This photo gives you an idea of the height of these windows.

I still can't believe I climbed that ladder and removed the Roman shades myself so I could wash the windows. Like yesterday's post, cast your eyes on the water. And the cloth.

*sigh*

After I sewed the new panels of camel linen, the pressed panels inched their way over the dining room railing from the second floor to the first floor.

Each panel is four yards long.
Yards.

Lined.

After the panels were hung, each window was then sheered in creamy gauze because I just can't handle the view...

Left window

Front window

We require at least a little privacy and lots of light. Here's what one window looked like at Christmastime 2011, before neither the panels nor the gauze were hemmed.

December 2011

Annie and I at work on the candy cane mice

AFTER

January 2012

I hemmed the panels like a good sewist would.

I hemmed the gauze sheers

with pinking sheers.

January 2012

Still no furniture in our downsala

except two of the eight

new dining room set chairs,

but there's plenty of time to furnish this room!

I like the new windows. I really do!

Yesterday: Windows Week, Part 1: Cornices Anew

Tomorrow: Windows Week, Part 3: Grrrr! The Kitchen

Windows Week, Part 1: Cornices Anew

2012-01-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

Friends are like windows

through which you see out

into the world

and back into yourself.

If you don't have friends

you see much less than you otherwise might.

~Merle Shain

Although today is USA's National Pie Day, as promised, today I kick off Windows Week here in the Loop. Let's get right to it, shall we?, and state that I'm shopping the house as much as I can after moving for the twentieth time in thirty years of marriage.

Yes. You read that right.

Today I'm treating the windows in my hubby's Manila office. These office windows provide such a lovely view, don't you think?

You're looking into two townhouse garages.

Because
(1) of the breathtaking scenery, and
(2) my husband enjoys as much natural sunlight as possible in his office,

I changed out the window treatments from this

September 2011,

BEFORE our furniture arrived from Guam

and this

October 2011

to this

December 2011

and this!

December 2011

Here's how I did it. Remember, I'm shopping the house.

First, I removed the filthy Roman shades from the office windows. I didn't record their images, but to give you an idea of the smog we deal with here in Manila, Philippines, this is what the kitchen's Roman shades looked like after they came down.

Terribly impractical in Manila, Smogland, agreed?

The owners left these here for us to 'enjoy.'

Next, I washed the office windows.

Cast your eyes on the water.

This is what it looked like as I got started!

On Guam, where we lived previous to moving to Manila, my husband's office, below, possessed a single window which I corniced in this masculine Hawaiian tropical print barkcloth (palm leaves; no orchids) in shades of brown, tan and a soft green.

Guam office, circa 2008-

definitely larger than his present Manila office

So, shopping the house, I not only used the Guam office cornice, I also used this one, below, from the Guam dining room-- a cornice that would have otherwise sat in storage here in Manila.

Guam dining room, circa 2008

{I miss our stackable $5/piece garage sale chairs:

I finally gave 'em away the other day.)

Fortunately I had plenty of leftover barkcloth fabric from when I covered the Guam office cornice.

To cut the cornices down to size, I peeled back the fabric and batting of the original Guam office cornice. (Hot Lips and I have been making cornices since the late '80s, so we can practically do this stuff blindfolded.)

The original Guam dining room cornice, below, possessed two layers of batting (polyester batting next to the wood; cotton batting over the polyester) under dreamy, creamy ecru burlap. I peeled off only the burlap.

My honey cut the cornices down to their correct sizes and, with their original screws, reattached the ends. At left, below, you can see the naked end of a cornice, leaning against the wall, awaiting its new garment.

With my staple gun, I covered the cornices with the barkcloth and then we hung them up. And that's how I gave my husband's office cornices anew!

The matchstick shades were custom made for us in the province: P600 (about $15) per piece. Oh, yeah! They

(1) don't block the view completely,

(2) allow light, and

(3) add a tropical element to the window treatment, which I think coordinates with the cornices.

In just a matter of weeks, a very hot sun will be heating up this room via their West windows. Hmm. Hot Lips might want/need me to line the shades then. Thanks to my staple gun, that'll be a piece o' cake!

Tomorrow, Windows Week, Part 2: Downsala Drama

Linking to Creative Bloggers Party Hop 01.22.12!

January 23 Is National Pie Day!

2012-01-20T06:00:00.001-06:00

The first English settlers

referred to pie crusts as 'coffins.'

~Punchbowl

I know it's not Monday yet (thank goodness! Bring on the weekend!), but on Monday I'm kicking off "Windows Week" here in the Loop: five window-filled posts.

So today I'm serving you three days' notice that Monday, folks, is National Pie Day! To tickle your fancy, I've prepared four five-inch apple crumb pies for us to enjoy! {Ha! You wish!}

The recipe I'm sharing today is one I've yet to yet to billboard here on Kelley Highway: Pat-in-Pan Pie Crust. I found it in a newspaper in the '90s. It's a real time-saver-- no rolling, dusting-- and makes lots of crust. Ideally for pumpkin, pecan, berry, apple or cream pies (etc.), assorted tarts and pot pies, press the dough as thin or as thick in the pan as you like. In fact, it's like Play-Doh for the kids. Let them press the crust into the pan for your family's National Pie Day pie celebration!

Easy Pat-in-Pan Pie Crust

(bottom crust only)

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups plus 3 Tablespoons flour

1 1/2 teaspoons sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup vegetable oil

3 Tablespoons cold milk

Directions:

Place flour, sugar and salt in a bowl, or directly in an 8- or 9-inch pie pan. (I used a bowl because I was making crusts for four mini pies.) Mix with clean fingers or a fork.

In a mug or measuring cup, combine oil and milk stirring vigorously with a fork, beating until creamy and combined well.

Pour the milk mixture at once over the flour mixture and mix dough with fork until completely moistened.

Pat the dough with fingers first up the sides then across the bottom of the pie pan. Discard any undesired dough. (I lined another deep dish pie pan with the leftovers, bagged it, sealed it and popped it in the freezer for a future One-Apple Mini Pie.)

The shell/shells are now ready to be filled and baked according to individual recipes.

I layered sheets of wax between the pans/crusts

and put the stack in a plastic bag

to bake the pies the next day.

To fill the pies, I used Mother's Apple Crumb Pie recipe. They're ready to go into the oven!

These 5-inch pans make perfect One-Apple pies, too!

While they baked, I prepared my pie safes... ahem. They're steamer baskets! Aren't they cute? Line each basket with pretty paper doilies (or your own hand-cut paper snowflakes; hearts for Valentine's Day; shamrocks for St. Patty's, etc.) and you've got the perfect pair of {protected} personal pies!

Fill 'em!

Stack 'em.

Put the lid on! If I was gifting this, I'd feed a pretty ribbon through one or two of the slats of the bottom basket and up through the top handle and tie a bow.

Adorable bamboo pie safe/caddy:

P250 ($5.70)

Yummy pie, too! I usually share half of mine with Hot Lips...

after he polishes off his own.

National Pie Day's

Monday, January 23!

Know someone who's lost a Mikey? Bake a pie for them.

Pasta e Fagioli

2012-01-19T06:00:00.000-06:00

A first-rate soup is more creative

than a second-rate painting.

~Abraham Maslow

Pasta e Fagioli

Serves 4 to 6

In a soup pot over medium heat, saute the following:

4 Tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 small yellow onion, finely chopped

1 stalk celery, sliced in 1/4-inch slices or diced

4 garlic cloves, minced

When vegetables turn a rich golden color, add the following:

4 cups beef broth

2 14-ounce cans whole peeled tomatoes with juice, coarsely chopped

1 medium carrot, finely diced or julienned

3 bay leaves

1 teaspoon each salt, dried oregano leaves, dried basil leaves

1 8-ounce can tomato sauce

1/2 teaspoon each cayenne and ground black pepper

4 teaspoons dried parsley

Bring mixture to a boil. Add:

1 15-ounce can cannellini beans, rinsed and drained well

1 15-ounce can kidney beans, rinsed and drained well

Bring mixture back to a boil. Reduce heat to low; cover and cook for 30 minutes.

(OPTIONAL: At serving time, make certain there's enough liquid to cook the pasta. If necessary add more broth or water. Raise heat to medium-high; when soup begins to boil, add 8 ounces small orzo or tubular pasta. Remove pot from heat when pasta is cooked al dente, in under 10 minutes.)

Serve with freshly grated Parmesan cheese, an Italian insalata verde (green salad), hot Italian bread with olive oil for dipping, and Easy Panna Cotta for dessert!

Nine Lives: Revamp a Clock

2012-01-18T06:00:00.000-06:00

Blow the dust off the clock.

Your watches are behind the times.

Throw open the heavy curtains

which are so dear to you -

you do not even suspect that the day

has already dawned outside.

~Aleksandr Sozhenitsyn

This clock's led nearly nine lives since it was gifted to us in 2004. It is handmade from ikat fabric from Indonesia, (in the Philippines it's called batik, I think?), wood and brass pieces. It was purchased for us in Davao on Mindanao Island, Philippines.

2011, in a new outfit

Below, I caught a glimpse of this clock

in a 2004 photo from our life in the Mission House.

Black frame

It was relocated here in 2005.

2005

See the clock?

In this photo, below, you can see the reflection of the clock in the Guam house's hall restroom mirror. See that dark middle ring? The hands on the clock are also black, so this clock has always been very difficult to read.

The clock's new location is in our master bedroom above the door to the master bath. To give the clock a new outfit and make it easier to read, I first disassembled it. With scrapbook paper very near the shade of the rest of the clock's face, I "tore" a round. With a couple dots of Aileene's Tacky Glue I glued the round over the dark inner ring.

I rewired the 12, 3, 6 and 9 o'clock brass pieces in the existing holes. I didn't replace the other bells after taking them off and couldn't care less that removing them left holes.

After spray painting the frame and cleaning the glass,

I re-assembled the beautiful 'new' clock

and hung it back up on the wall.

NOW we can see perfectly

the hands of this very special time piece!

Please DO Eat the Daisies!

2012-01-17T06:00:00.000-06:00

Please, please don't eat the daisies
Don't eat the daisies please, please
S'posin' it showers
While you're eatin' flowers
The hours are wastin' away
~William "By" Dunham

Come into our kitchen! I want to show you how I covered up these ~~hideous~~ lovely tile squares in our (Mine for Now) kitchen.

Now you see them...

Before

Ain't they jest beautimous?

Now you don't!

After

Before

Please ~~don't~~ eat the daisies!

After

Seagrass

Each $5 sample of rattan, etc. was bought on Guam in 2008 and is framed sturdily around and over wood. They came from a rattan/wicker furniture store. Furniture shopping? Select the style you like, then from the samples, choose the type of weave/finish you want. Neat, huh?

Banana Leaf

I actually made a "headboard" with all nine of these for the guest room in our previous house. It was a cool "headboard," too! (Sorry; couldn't find a photo!) I just hung them in three rows of three.

Water Hyacinth and Rattan

The sample, below right, had to be hung wonky because that's the way the tile was laid on the wall. Oh, well. Works for me!

left, Seagrass

right, Seagrass and Banana Leaf

These babies sat in a stack here in the Loop until one afternoon before Thanksgiving I got an AHA! moment and was inspired to hang them using plate hangers I already had, too. Hung in a diamond pattern like the tile, they did the trick!

left, Seagrass and Banana Leaf

Rattan

White Banana Leaf

Peel Rattan

(the latter three below)

They add tropical textures that delight and are easy to maintain. Whip meringue or splatter chocolate cake batter on 'em? Take 'em off the sticky wall hooks, rinse 'em off and hang 'em back on the hooks! They're au natural!

Chalk up another one for shopping the house!

Linking at Linda's Coastal Charm's Nifty Thrifty Tuesday No. 97.

Testimonies from The God Box

2012-01-16T06:00:00.190-06:00

We got a contract on our house tonight!

Thank You, Jesus, and

thanks to all who've helped us pray.

Thanks @KelleyDibble

for the God box!

~Jeanine via Twitter

Exciting news from Jeanine over the weekend!

But first, a little background. At the end of August 2011, she tweeted, asking her Twitter followers to pray that her house would sell. Yesterday.

So I wrote a request on a slip of green, folded it and dropped it into The God Box.

31 Aug 2011

Dear God,

Please sell Jeanine Blake's house.

{It's done!}

IN YOUR NAME!

Fast forward to a January Sunday, Manila lunchtime, after Jeanine tweeted that a contract had been placed on their house Saturday evening her time (hence, the introduction to this post). I replied that I couldn't wait to go home and update the prayer request by writing "CONTRACT" on it! She requested a photo.

iPhoto

"Woohoo!"

she replied.

"I see you saved room to write SOLD!"

Prayer works! I am a living witness! I hope to write just that-- {SOLD!} -- no more than one month from now! Wouldn't that make a lovely Valentine's Day sentiment?!

So, I think this to be the appropriate time to share what I did with The God Box idea on Guam last month. And don't say you were not warned to grab a tissue! You just might need it.

iPhoto

The Chinese take-out "God Boxes"

I bought on Guam

for less than $1 each.

I loved my friend Val's idea so much-- this idea!-- that I used it at our December Daughters of Zion monthly first-Monday prayer meeting.

First of all, what is Daughters of Zion? you might ask.

DOZ is the convening of women on the first Monday of each month for the single purpose of praying for children-- their children, your children, all children. Children in the family and children who have no family. Children in the church, neighborhood, community, city, county, state, nation and around the world.

Again, I am a living witness: the prayers offered by the Daughters of Zion avail much!

Here are the beautiful ladies of Guam and their God Boxes- the Chinese take-out boxes I provided as inspiration.

DOZ ~ Guam, December 2011

Something I shared before our prayer time was this-- something I believe with all my heart: We are responsible to give children Truth. It is our duty. Just as it was Dr. Tsifutis' duty and responsibility to give to me the truth about my second child born twenty-five years ago. . . .

Somehow we were released from the hospital after I delivered our Thanksgiving (turkey) weekend baby, and she was very sick. Unknown to me, she was so ill, our pediatrician, Dr. Tsifutis, had not even signed the newborn's release from the hospital. As I stated, though, somehow the hospital released us to take her home anyway.

When I took her for her first week's check-up, Dr. Tsifutis was livid. A tall, stout Greek gentleman, even his calm, controlled, thickly-accented voice boomed, "I scolded that nursing staff. One of dem gave your baby a cold. A veddy bad one." It was true. She was congested, stuffy and her breathing had grown increasingly difficult.

"You must do as I say," he instructed after examining her carefully. "I don't want this baby to go out of your house. Do you understand? Here is a prescription," and he tore the paper from his tablet. "I will call in the prescription, but I want you to keep this paper one just in case. Call your husband from here and ask him to pick up the medicine. You take the baby straight home. Double the first two doses of medicine, and then proceed normally. You must promise to keep her home until I say she is well enough to go outside of your house. I want to see her in a week, but remember, do not take her out of the house otherwise."

Our precious new baby's condition was graver than I had imagined.

"But, doctor," I began, my heart pounding, "you don't understand. My sister is getting married a few days before Christmas. The wedding's two hours' drive away. I won't miss my own sister's wedding, will I?"

The doctor leaned away from the back of his chair, so close to me, I could see the lint on his glasses. "Mrs., it is you who does not understand. If you don't do as I say, your daughter will end up in the hospital." And then he added emphatically, "Or worse."

Or worse? I thought on the cold drive home. Oh, no. This is awful. Our baby's so sick. No one else can nurse her but me. I can't put her on a bottle and leave her to go to my sister's wedding. The baby needs me more.

And then I sighed. And sighed. And sighed some more. I'll have to call my sister and tell her. I braced myself for the feathers that were fixin' to fly: Kelley's not going to her own sister's wedding.

Right. Sure. The baby's too sick. Tell me something else I can believe. We know what it is. You don't like that guy, and you don't support the marriage. My sister said none of these things; in fact, no one did, but I feared these were everyone's unspoken thoughts.

Truth. My doctor had told me truth. That was his duty. To tell me the truth. As my child's physician, he was professionally and legally responsible to share with me the truth.

I, in turn, was responsible to respond appropriately in obedience to that truth. I was my baby's mother. It was my duty not only to respond to the truth about her condition, but if she were to grow worse, for how I responded I could be held legally responsible. Every moment of her recovery depended upon my response.

My choice? I had only one. There were no other options: I was staying home with my sick child and would be absent, MIA from my only sister's wedding.

To say that the bride-to-be was deeply hurt is a gross understatement. On the phone, she simply muttered, "It's OK. I understand," but I knew she was offended.

And my parents? My father was so angry, he stated, "I will never, ever forgive you for this."

The missed-wedding side of this testimony is still so very sad. (My sister's marriage lasted two decades, ending in a cruelly painful divorce that is still rocking her and her five precious children's world.) We've never brought up again the painful truth of this part of our family's story.

That our baby-- who got a seriously ill start in life-- twenty-four years later celebrated her own marriage to a terrific guy, followed by a surprise "Hello Kitty" twenty-fifth birthday he threw for her is the lovely truth of the better part of this story.

The "Hello Kitty" Thanksgiving weekend Baby turned 25!

As women, sisters, aunts, mothers, grandmothers, we, too, are responsible to share truth. It is our duty. It is our responsibility. What the recipients of truth do with it, how they respond to it is their choice. However, truth will never change although it may come with a price. Truth has always been truth, it is truth today, and it will forevermore be truth. Jesus said,

"I am the way, the truth, and the life"

(John 14:6).

"Any testimonies?" I asked after our spectacular December DOZ prayer time.

Tina (above, seated second from left), a mother of two adult daughters and two adult sons stated, "I just want to say how thankful I am for Daughters of Zion. We prayed for so long for my children, and look who is here with me tonight!" The fruit of much prayer! It absolutely amazed me to see Tina's firstborn Christiana, a mother of two, and Tina's baby Candace, a college student, going to and putting their arms around lady after lady, crying with them, praying with them during the prayer meeting.

near back,

Christiana and Candace, behind lady in pink (standing),

praying at either side of Gilda (in white, wiping tears)

Candace later testified the reason why. "You all here finally get to see the fruit of some of your prayers. Every one of you prayed for my sister and me. And now here we are, and we get to see what those prayer meetings were like. You prayed for us. Now it's our turn to pray for your children.

"... It's like you'd said, [Kelley]. Mom always told me the truth. She always gave me truth. And usually I'd say, 'I know, Mom. I know!'

"I thought for awhile, I'll live for God later. I know exactly when I want to live for Him. I've got it planned out perfectly. Then in college they tried to teach me there are no absolutes, that there's nothing that's either true or it's false. They tried to teach me it was gray.

"One day I was talking with some friends, and I heard the words come out of my mouth, 'Yes, there is truth. There is a real God and He is sovereign.' It shocked me when I heard myself defending the truth. That's when I knew I would get my heart right with God.

Ever since,

there's been no turning back

for me."

Are you praying about something? Someone weighs heavily on your heart? Worrying your mind? Me, too. So let's write them on slips of paper, date and fold them. Put them in your God Box, in a drawer or between the pages of your Bible. Leave your troubles there and forget about them. Let the Lord handle them all. He's going to be up all night anyway.

Here's what D' did with The God Box idea!

Mail Kalikimaka II

2012-01-13T06:00:00.000-06:00

They're not pronounced

PEE cans.

We have restrooms now.

~Carol

Since at least 2001 our family has received an annual Surprise. Hundreds of 'em, really. Surprises, that is.

But before we open the box, can I just insert here that this lovely Carol mails to us a

monthly.

handwritten.

card.

February 2010

with beautiful Carol

Monthly.

An E-mail? No, not an e-mail.

A Direct Message on Twitter? No, Carol doesn't tweet.

Carol updates us on Facebook? No. We're not on Facebook.

Handwritten.

Flip a page on the calendar and ping! A newsy, cheerful note drops into our mailbox. Snail mailbox. Carol takes the time, the effort and the love to scribe a sentiment, encouraging us, letting us know she and Jerry think about us and pray for us often.

February 2010

Loving grandparents,

Jerry and Carol with two of their grandsons

Adequate words fail to express our gratitude for these loving gestures. Gestures like this one...

We've received these annual boxed Surprises since Jerry and Carol first learned we couldn't buy pecans in Manila. Yet, whether we're in Manila, on Guam, or in the States on deputation, Jerry's done all the pickin' and Carol's done all the packin' of these gems: the plumpest, meatiest, bestest pecans you ever did taste!

Alabama Surprise Pecans

A labor of loving Surprise in every bite. Let's see: pumpkin cake roll, cheese ball, pecan pie, Gooey Pumpkin Cake and...

... Hot Lips' favorite-- pecan brittle!

Mother-made, circa 2010

As soon as I locate and bring home some light corn syrup, oh yeah! Alabama Surprise Pecan Brittle, here comes Hot Lips!

Jerry and Carol, we sure love you folks! Thanks for the millions of Surprises! You guys are the greatest!

Make a Book-Page Monogram

2012-01-12T06:00:00.003-06:00

If you can read this,
thank a teacher.

Read Letter

Step 1. I showed Annie how to cut a monogram

from a sheet of styrofoam.

(I save every piece of styrofoam that comes

from our vehicle into this house.)

Step 2. From a book, she tore a page

into bite-size pieces.

Step 3. Using Elmer's

(when I ask about Mod Podge here in Manila,

they look at me funny)

randomly glue the book page pieces to the initial.

Thirty minutes later,

she was Done.

Linking up with 2805's Potpourri Friday #19 and At the Picket Fence's Inspiration Friday No. 47 and Delightful Order's Inspiring Thursday Party #11 and Creative Blogger Party Hop 01.22.12!

Visiting, V

2012-01-11T06:00:00.000-06:00

The Flour Sack

~Colleen B. Hubert

In that long ago time when things were saved,

When roads were graveled and barrels were staved,

When worn-out clothing was used as rags,

And there were no plastic wrap or bags,

And the well and the pump were way out back,

A versatile item was the flour sack.

Pillsbury's Best, Mother's and Gold Medal too

Stamped their names proudly in purple and blue.

The string sewn on top was pulled and kept,

The flour emptied and spills were swept.

The bag was folded and stored in a sack

That durable practical flour sack.

The sack could be filled with feather and down,

For a pillow, or it would make a sleeping gown.

It could carry a book and be a school bag,

Or become a mail sack slung over a nag.

It made a very convenient pack,

That adaptable cotton flour sack.

January 2011 at National Children's Hospital

Premie peanut Jessica, a twin,

sleeping on a wheat flour sack

Bleached and sewn, it was dutifully worn

As bibs, diapers, or kerchief adorned.

It was made into skirts, blouses and slips

And Mom braided rugs from one hundred strips,

She made ruffled curtains for the house or shack

From that humble but treasured flour sack!

As a strainer for milk or apple juice,

To wave men in, it was a very good use,

As a sling for a sprained wrist or a break,

To help mother roll up a jelly cake.

As a window shade or to stuff a crack,

We used a sturdy, common flour sack!

As dish towels, embroidered or not,

They covered up dough, helped pass pans so hot,

Tied up dishes for neighbors in need,

And for men out in the field to seed.

They dried dishes from pan, no rack

That absorbent, handy flour sack!

We polished and cleaned stove and table,

Scoured and scrubbed from cellar to gable,

We dusted the bureau and oak bed post,

Made costumes for October, a scary ghost,

And a parachute for a cat named Jack

From that lowly, useful old flour sack!

So my friends, when they ask you

As curious youngsters often do,

Before plastic wrap, Elmer's Glue

And paper towels, what did you do?

Tell them loudly and with pride don't lack,

"Grandmother had that wonderful flour sack!"

The Flour Sack

~by Colleen B. Hubert

Rosalie's Sausage and Pepper Sauce

2012-01-10T06:00:00.019-06:00

If you like peppers and sausage, you'll love this dish.

Dip Italian bread in the sauce for an extra treat.

~ my friend Rosalie Fiorino Harpole,

from her cookbook Rosalie Serving Italian

Recently I tried a new recipe, thanks to a Friday Foodie nudge from blogger Kathy McElhaney at McMoments and Memories. She was hankering for something spicy and this recipe from Rosalie's Serving Italian cookbook fit the bill.

The day I read Kathy's Friday Foodie post, my own menu read "make something with peppers." I'd found some beautiful American-size yellow and red bell peppers (rare!) recently at a local market here in Manila. Thanks for the nudge, Kathy! Ditto: Rosalie's recipe fit the bill!

However, I have to admit, I somehow missed the fact that Kathy had gleaned this scrumptious recipe from the very cookbook that rests on my own kitchen's shelf until after I'd washed all our dinner dishes!

So, before I share Rosalie's quick and easy "Sausage and Pepper Sauce" recipe, I have to put in a plug for this personal friend of mine from the good ol' Show Me State (that's Missouri!). She said, "Kelley Highway readers can order Rosalie Serving Italian and Rosalie Serving Country for $29 (includes shipping inside the continental US)." You can check out Rosalie's Web site Rosalie Serving here. Sign up for her e-newsletters, too! Click Contact and she'll tell you how you can order her delightfully colorful, glossy page-filled cookbooks packed with delicious recipes and helpful "teaching hints and family insights."

Sausage and Pepper Sauce

1 pound rotini (Kathy stated that she prepared whole wheat. I haven't located whole wheat pasta here yet, but I had tricolor spiral pasta in the freezer so that's what I used.)

1 Tablespoon salt for the water to cook the pasta

1/2 cup reserved pasta water

1/4 cup olive oil

3 peppers: green, red, yellow OR mixed (I used two yellow and one red.)

1/2 cup chopped onion (I sliced two small onions. I did not chop them.)

2 cloves garlic, chopped (I used 4 or 5!)

salt and pepper to taste

2 Italian sausage links, cut into 2" rounds (Mine were spicy, and I removed the casings and casually formed them into 1-inch mini meatballs.)

In a 2-cup measuring cup or a bowl, stir together:

1 15-ounce can tomato sauce (I didn't have any, so I used 15 ounces canned spaghetti sauce.)

1/2 teaspoon sugar (I omitted this.)

1/4 teaspoon dried basil leaves

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

1/4 cup chicken broth

salt and pepper to taste

freshly grated Parmesan cheese

olive oil

Directions:

1. Wash, core and seed peppers. Julienne them, but not too thinly. (Next time, I will cut each strip in half lengthwise.) Place the olive oil, peppers, onion and garlic in a saucepan over MEDIUM heat. Salt and pepper to taste. (This is the only place I salted and peppered this dish.) Add the sausage pieces and saute until peppers are tender and the sausage is cooked. (I pushed the sausage meatballs to the bottom of the pan, making sure they got cooked well on all sides. After about 5 or 10 minutes, I also covered the saucepan, stirring the contents every few minutes. This took 15 to 20 minutes.)

2. Stir together the tomato sauce, basil, pepper flakes and chicken broth. When the sausage is cooked and the peppers are tender, add the sauce to the saucepan. Simmer on LOW heat 15 minutes. (I covered the pan, stirring every 5 minutes or so.)

3. In boiling salted water, cook the pasta al dente. Toss the pasta with the sauce. (As you can see in the photo below, somehow I missed that "toss" part on Kathy's blog post, too! *sigh*) Add 1/2 cup reserved pasta water. (I omitted that.)

4. I served our pasta in soup plates and did not garnish with grated Parmesan cheese or olive oil as Rosalie suggests... because I hadn't read that yet! Next time I will add the Parmesan!

I'm not thrilled with how the lighting over my dining table

alters the reality of the dishes I photograph there. Gotta work on that.

I served our sausage and peppers with a garden salad, but next time I'll prepare a completely Italian meal divine: insalata verde (simple green Italian salad of Romaine leaves, freshly sliced white onion rings and black olives, freshly cracked black pepper, dressed with a light olive oil-based dressing), Rosalie's Sausage and Pepper Sauce with rotini, Italian bread and olive oil for dipping, and for dessert, (easy!) panna cotta!

Let me know if you try this! Enjoy!

Family Hairloom

2012-01-09T06:00:00.005-06:00

Ode to Chin Hairs

By Mother

Children love their grandmas

And it's plain to see

Grandmothers are loved

Unconditionally.

Trips to my grandma's house

Always were a joy

Greeted with hugs and kisses

Whiskery ones, oh, boy!

I remember Grandma

Sitting in her chair

Daddy with the tweeezers

Pulling her chin hairs.

We all laughed about it

When I told the tale

But now that I'm a grandma

I have chin hairs as well!

That "family" thing will get you

It passes down the line

From Gra'm to Dad to daughter

It seems to be a sign.

That "chin hair" situation

That has befallen me

I've passed to my own daughter

And now she says, "Oh, me!"

Skeleton Leaves

2012-01-05T06:00:00.001-06:00

Birthdays are good for you.

Statistics show that the people who have the most

live the longest.

~Larry Lorenzoni

She had a birthday. So I gave her a gift. One I hadn't shoved into a bag with fluffed tissue on top.

I wrapped it and attached a card.

Between the plain brown paper and a creamy layer of tissue,

I sneaked in some colorfully dyed skeleton leaves.

Loved it.

As did she.

Off-Island Update: Republic of Palau

2012-01-03T06:00:00.062-06:00

I wanted to be an up-to-date king.

But I didn't have much time.

~ King Edward VIII

At this writing, it's the first Quiet Day I've been afforded in at least one month, and I almost feel guilty about taking this one. *sigh* (In my Sally List I define what a Quiet Day is for me.) There are curtains to hem, the Guest Sour to make Suite, the spare toilet paper hangers to make (for THREE bathrooms!) and the 2012 placemats I want to put the finishing touches on. {Done!} *sigh* Although I was ecstatic to have abounding activities since Thanksgiving 2011, today is a day I've looked forward to with just as ecstatic anticipation, so I'm seizing it!

As promised, I'd love to share our earlier-in-December off-island activities. Here we go with our first trip to the Republic of Palau!

Alii! means "Hello!" like Aloha! in Hawaiian.

Our welcome basket that awaited us in the hotel room;

of course I brought the basket home with me!

The garlands that were draped around our shoulders

after we arrived in the Koror airport rest in our hotel room.

We were greeted by these lovely folks

and enjoyed a Saturday evening meal together:

Filipino Pastor Alain Rabor, holding young Ziv

whose mama, Deanna (pronounced deena)

has hopefully delivered a healthy baby at this writing,

and Palauan Pastora Helga Sharp.

Ziv and I watched for the fish in the hotel 'pond.'

Isn't he the cutest?

. . .

On Sunday, as we entered the church building,

off came our shoes.

Beautiful feet.

Yeah, she's a-singing.

If I

Had ten thousand hands

I'd use them

All to lift Him up

And if I

If I had ten thousand tongues

I'd use them

All to praise His name!

And there's my man:

best preacher in the whole wide world!

Aren't we ALL beautiful?

After service,

with Pastor Rabor and his Filipino church leadership

With Pastora Sharp and her Palauan church leadership

Commendable, beautiful harmony in Palau!

As the manager of the Oceanside Lounge at the airport

(reserved for business class passengers),

the sister from the Filipino church

[in red (?Susan?)] prepared a delicious lunch for us.

Deanna Rabor, ?Susan?, me and Pastora Sharp

Hot Lips with Pastor Rabor and the brothers from his church

who helped prepare our lunch. Young Ziv was having fun!

We enjoyed a fabulous meal before saying our

"See ya later's!"

Palau's BEAUTIFUL! We can't wait to return!

And, I can't wait to get my hands on Ziv's new sibling!

I'll be sewing something as soon as I learn

if he has a sister or brother!

Tomorrow, Guam!

Of Twenty-Eleven

2012-01-02T06:00:00.090-06:00

While the doorbell and phone

have remained largely silent at our home,

you, dear readers,

have supported us with your words.

People that we have never met

in 'real life.' To those who say

that relationships formed in the blogosphere

aren't real, I will argue that point until the end.

It is not an understatement to say

God has worked through all of you.

You have been a beaming lighthouse

for a family currently sailing stormy seas.

~ Laura of Decor to Adore

Real Life Friends Never 'Known'

In contemplating my first post of the New Year, I knew exactly what I would share, only to have at least a pair of confirmations. God's ways never cease to amaze me. To you it might seem a little thing, but to me, it's meant so very much.

My "real life" friend I've never known is in the storm tonight. "How can you call her your friend if you've never even met this person?" my husband has asked on not a few occasions.

He's seen me cry, reading the news that Manuela's dog Maxie had died. "Who's Manuela?" he asked.

"I've followed her blog for a long time."

Enough said. Don't ask, he perhaps advises himself. It's her friend Manuela. A friend she's never even met. Manuela probably doesn't even know Red exists. (Red am I; I am Red. That's Hot Lips' name for me. Maybe you just learned something new about me!)

And he's witnessed as I dissolved into tears on another day, sitting in the passenger seat of Evy the Ford Everest while we drove down Edsa (a main thoroughfare here in New Manila). Once again, I was blog surfing on my iPhone and came upon a home video clip that impacted my heart so deeply, this post was the result. If it hadn't been for this blog post, I doubt most seriously that I would've spontaneously felt the urge to grab my beloved husband's hand for the future photo-journal of a loving moment. Now I have iPhotos. Now I have a treasure upon which I can repeatedly refer. And a post that is a personal favorite and will forever be.

My husband's heard me chuckle at David's blog posts and mumble, "Oh, that's beautiful."

He's heard me hardy-har-har at Debbie's. Probably rolls his eyes. Er, he probably doesn't anymore.

That's nothing. Debbie's kids call their mother's blog readers Mom's Imaginary Friends and Those Invisible People. Why, her husband "once dubbed [us] Harveys after the six-foot rabbit in a Jimmy Stewart flick."

My hubby's also wondered at my sighs while reading Amy's blog; I'm remembering when I was a young wife and mother myself, raising two kids. Funny. Amy's are just as adorable as mine were. Are. But how did two extra decades buzz by?

And my sweetie's he's even heard me mumble, "Oh, brother."

"Pardon me?" He thought I had said something to him.

"I was just 'Oh, brother-ing' this blog."

"Oh." There she goes again. Another blog.

I'm not typically in disagreement with the bloggers/posts I read. The "Oh, brother" was quite simply the blogger's desired response. Believe me, I know. After all. I know this "friend." And hello. I'm that blogger, remember?!

My "real life" friend in the storm? What response had she desired when she shared this post? She said as much: My family needs your prayers and I need a blog break. And, so, although it's unlikely I'll be afforded the privilege of giving her a hug or looking into her beautiful face and say, "I've been praying for you. Everything is going to be all right," I have indeed prayed for her. That was the desired response. That is all she presently needs from me.

And it's why I go back to the blogs I follow. Something I need is awakened and fulfilled in some way.

And that's why you return to mine. Even if I'm not on my best behavior, am being tested, am struggling to be who my spirit wants to be versus what my flesh wants, and am not yet who I ought to be. You check on me, learn something more about me, and as a result, learn something about yourself.

Today's first Kelley Highway post of the New Year could recap a myriad of subjects: Most Pinned. Most Popular. Most Hits. Most Comments. The Top Ten. The Top Five.

It could, but it won't. Instead, it will highlight you.

Many times you comment. You know who you are, and so do I. I am you.

And oftentimes you have virtually no time to comment; only to skim through and look at the images. And think about the words throughout your day, or as you fell asleep. You know who you are, and so do I. I am you.

And other times, for you there are no words. Like Laura of Decor to Adore, there are those moments, those hours, those days during which there simply. are. no. words.

Recently a very dear friend shared with me the trial of nightmarish proportions that has rocked and is rocking her family's world. "I tried to pray, but I couldn't find the words," she attempted to describe in her best English. "My throat searched for the words," she winced, wiping her eyes. "My lips opened, but my heart was so broken,

no words get out."

Those of you who have post scripted my posts have blessed me with the words you could find. You left behind a fragment of yourself. Perhaps I was the one who tore that off. Or you may've given it transparently. Or it was simply one of those times that it was the only thing you had to offer. The "words get out."

I am grateful.

Some comments were cute, funny, in agreement, or even offered enlightenment on an idea which I'd not considered.

And some comments were untyped, unshared. "No words get out." Believe me, I understand. I am you.

Here are only a few:

On Kelley Highway

I am coming out of a very dry place...

I just NEEDED to find your blog

to help pull me along. ~A.

{I hate weekends.

You never blog on weekends.}

... That made me cry. . .

Don't ever change.

Y'all are wonderful! ~ J.

I love your header pic.

The shoes are to die for. ~ D.

I love the picture of your shoes in the car.

Please don't ever change it.

I enjoy your blog; it has a little of this

and that and a few surprises!

Don't ever change! Love it. ~ G.

On turning 50

Oh dear, I have too much to say. . .

Tell me everything because I am so close

and want to hear that 50 is new life. ~ L.

I devoured this. Every word made me feel

like I was right there growing up with you.

Well written, and oh-so-sweet. ~ D.

On marriage and 30 years of it

Love you. May you have

many many more years. ~ L.

I don't know what I would do

without my hubby.

He is the light of my life!

Yes, we do take so many things for granted.

I thank God every day

for all of my blessings. ~ J.

On Vanna and our cars

My last car was named Idene.

Gaelic for Flame. She was red.

I love my current (unnamed) Silver Honda CR-V.

Any name ideas for me? ~ L.

[I think I suggested Sylvia and it stuck.]

I think it's great

that you left Vanna in good company

and that she's being put to good use. ~ J.

On thrifting and sewing projects

You are just so thrifty!

I'm jealous of all your thrifty finds. ~ J.

Your bags are awesome...

If I can't make it with a glue gun,

I won't be making it. :o) ~ J.

On moving (This was our 20th.)

I always expected that my kids

would move away from us...

not us away from them.

You pack up and you go. You adjust.

Life moves in a new direction.

Easy? NOT! We are called... and we go.

Sometimes with a heavy heart...

but a willing heart just the same. ~ D.

Little things become big things.

Every small part is important. ~ C.

I was wondering how you were sleeping

on the air mattress. Now I know-

you work until you're so exhausted

you can sleep anywhere! ~ K.

On our work overseas

I think I told you my parents have a ministry

in Negros, Philippines...

I was scared you were going to show balut.

Ack. ~ R.

I'm reminded of the psalmist David's words,

"Blessed be the Lord, who daily loadeth us

with benefits." We owe so much

to so many. Help me, Lord. ~ D.

Say, are you walking MY walk these days?

Feeling this post in deep places.

Coming to terms with another betrayal

in my life that He calls me to weather

with grace and humility- as He did-

obedience to the cross for the work

and purposes of the Father-

to bring cleansing and refining for a greater work

beyond imagining! Licking wounds,

learning lessons, renewing in spirit, resting in hope.

Thanks for posting, friend. Joy! ~ K.

Thank you for allowing me to be part of your lives.

May God richly bless you in 2012.

The best is yet to come.

Before I go, might I recommend this post's lovely images and insight at Adventures of Elizabeth?

Felt New Year's Place Mats

2011-12-30T06:02:00.030-06:00

Glory to God in highest heaven,

Who unto man His Son hath given;

While angels sing with tender mirth,

A glad new year to all the earth.

~Martin Luther

After Christmas Day's dinner dishes were done (thank you, Hot Lips!) and the kitchen floor was swept and washed, I simply replaced half of the felt poinsettia place mats I'd made with coordinating felt New Year's place mats.

Let's make some, shall we? Midnight will soon be here!

To make a pattern, I simply printed some numerals in a font I liked, Matura MT Script Capitals. I enlarged those numerals at 200%; then I enlarged the new numerals at 200%.

NOTE: Lay the face of the numeral-- its right side-- down onto the wrong side of your felt. This way, none of your pencil marks will show on the right side of your felt numerals.

Cut out and glue.

To see how I made the coordinating poinsettia place mats, go here.

Happy New Year!

P.S. Since the Firstborn liked my felt poinsettia place mats so much, she requested some for her own 2013 Christmas table. (My MIL made her a table runner identical to mine, and remember: the Firstborn lives on the US mainland while I live here in the Philippines.) After I made the poinsettia place mats, I knocked out a pair of Happy New Year's felt place mats for her, too!

Cute, huh? And it'll be here before we know it. . .

Linking with The 36th Avenue.

Felt Poinsettia Place Mats

2011-12-30T06:01:00.079-06:00

noun

a plant, Euphorbia (Poinsettia) pulcherrima,

of the spurge family,

having variously lobedleaves and brilliant

scarlet, pink, or white petallike bracts

~dictionary.reference.com

The print on my table runner (handmade by my beautiful MIL) was the inspiration for my Christmas table's felt poinsettia place mats.

I would've loved to've acquired three shades of color (including coral!) like the poinsettia bracts in the print, but alas, I had to settle for two shades of red: wine and scarlet. I also would've loved to've acquired two shades of green for the leaves, but alas I had to settle for olive.

Shall we make one?

Draw a pattern.

For variety, use two different shapes for both the bracts and leaves.

For each place mat I cut:

OLIVE: 3 long leaves; 2 short leaves; one round for the base
WINE: 2 long bracts; 2 short bracts
SCARLET: 3 long bracts; 2 short bracts
15 HOLE-PUNCHED DOTS: 3 yellow, 6 light green, 3 light tan, 3 olive

Decide placement.

After glueing the bracts and leaves to the olive round,

add the hole-punched dots.

I used these for my felt Christmas candy cane mice.

. . .

My Christmastime table was set for only six but I made eight place mats in case next year my table's full! Wouldn't that be nice? After the New Year celebration, my pretty felt poinsettia place mats will be stored flat.

To see how I made my New Year's Day place mats,

go here!

Merry Christmas!

Linking with Party Time! at The 36th Avenue.

Prayer Pillow Perspective

2011-12-29T06:00:00.001-06:00

Dusty my soul tonight.

Earth has been dear.

Bewildered, I come to You,

Father God, hear.

Dust bunnies

Idols that charm me,

dreams that allure,

pains that alarm me,

suspense to endure,

Floor unswept of hair, lint

memories that linger,

thoughts that ensnare,

a heart that is aching,

all crumpled by care,

unsatisfied, restless,

scarce able to pray--

everything, everything

take it away.

Only You,

none but You,

Jesus alone:

Ashes the rest to me,

songs with a groan,

Dog hair still clings to a bench leg.

take them each one away--

mind not my tears--

lift me above this earth's

joys and its fears,

give me Yourself alone--

nothing beside--

so will I be with You,

content,

satisfied!

"ONLY YOU"

By Ruth Bell Graham

Hair on my prayer Help

During my prayer time this morning, I tangled with distractions of congregating dust bunnies on even more dusty floors, scraps of felt and lint that had floated from the craft room to the area where I pray.

Hair. Short graying-brown hair. Coarse white hair from none other than the Tucker man-- the beloved pet we gave to a loving family on Guam exactly two years ago.

And red hairs. Long strands that my fingers pinch pick-up and robotically wrap like thread around a spool-finger. The interruption of rolling this into a knot and laying it on my prayer Help nudges a mental note, Throw that away when you're done.

Dusty my soul tonight...

earth has been dear...

Distractions. Interruptions. The way it's been for weeks. For you, too?

Dreams that allure...

suspense to endure...

It's Christmastime. It's New Year's. Stuff to do. Stuff to make. Stuff to give.

Bags to pack. Flights to catch. Places to go. People to see. Things to do.

Thoughts that ensnare...

all crumpled by care...

Behind on Bible reading. Malnourished and lacking in spirit-weight of Living Bread at breakfast, at lunch, at supper and for refreshment.

Dry and parched. Dehydrated. Thirsty for that Living Water.

Give me Yourself alone...
Ashes the rest to me.

Breath of heaven, Spirit of the Living God, fall fresh on me.

Christmas Day Visiting

2011-12-26T06:00:00.002-06:00

Each of us will one day be judged
by our standard of life,
not by our standard of living;
by our measure of giving,
not by our measure of wealth;
by our simple goodness,
not by our seeming greatness.
~ William Arthur Ward

Christmas Day at National Children's Hospital

Sam with the box filled with

the felt Christmas candy cane mice we'd made

The week prior to Christmas,

the felt mice await the balance of their body parts

in the Christmas candy cane mice factory:

felt bodies

felt inner ears

felt hole-punched noses

and my carry-on suitcase PACKED to the gills with candy canes,

(meticulously repacked so not 12 but 36 pieces fit in each box)--

thanks to this fine couple, the B. and C. C's (protect identity)

stationed on Guam for three years

(our Paradise Estates former neighbors)

Thank you both for your devoted service to our country!

who contributed all

FOUR HUNDRED EIGHTY

(480!)

candy canes!

You guys are the greatest!

. . .

Let's get these mice put together!

See the huge pile of felt scraps in the floor of the downstairs sala?

In the Christmas mice factory with

(left) Joycee and Annie-boo,

my inaanak (ee NAH ah KNOCK; adopted or godchildren),

and Joyce with her husband, Sam,

another of our inaanak.

Doesn't it feel good to finally have tails, guys?

Boxed and ready to scurry over to NCH!

Here we go!

Joycee has my grandbaby bun in the oven!

Meet Jeffrey. Although he's blind and very ill,

that's a happy smile on his face.

John Philip's mama requested a picture with me.

I hadn't had the pleasure of seeing this sweet mother

in several weeks.

John's also blind as a result of a brain tumor.

At left, below, is Victor's family.

At right is mama Venus with our beloved Cathlyn.

[You can read about my sweet Cathlyn

in my other "Visiting" posts

here, here and here.]

Princess was coloring in her book, below.

When we returned Tuesday to pray for the children,

she had the lovely bow in her hair that

Annie's ate (AH tay; "older sister") had made

for each little girl.

At right, below, Maria was born at seven months gestation.

At left, somebunny loves her Christmas treat!

Joycee gives a Christmas candy cane mouse to pleased recipients!

Kimjo has a happy smile for us!

Family members of NCH patients

followed us as we left.

Of course we shared some Christmas cheer.

The little guy in Papa's arms behind us, below,

selected a blue Christmas mouse.

To each contributor--

of time and effort for cutting and glueing,

and of funds for candy canes--

please accept my heartfelt thanks and appreciation

for your timely Christmas Day gifts of love and generosity.

Merry CHRISTmas!

On our way home from NCH on Tuesday, Annie asked, "So, m'am (mom), what we do next time?"

"You mean, what will we give for the next holiday? Valentine's Day?"

"Yes, m'am."

"I already know exactly what we're going to make: 'Spoonfuls o' Kisses!'"

Visiting, III

2011-12-21T06:00:00.001-06:00

I'll never wash it off!

~ as told to Jessica

Anne and I spent two hours today at NCH. Fewer patients. Many empty beds. Probably because it's the week before Christmas.

I remembered one thing and forgot the other. The one thing: a notebook to record the patients' names and information. The other thing: name tags for Annie and me to wear. I'll be working on that this week.

Today we got our first no's. First two no's. The first two mothers of infants we saw wrinkled their noses when we asked if they would like us to pray for their child.

But Glenda's mama and papa's faces lit up after I announced we were there to pray. At two weeks old, poor baby Glenda has an abscess in one of her breasts, they said.

Avelino, 26 days. Baby Precious, months old. Nathan had been born two months prematurely. Maricaye was one-and-a-half months old. And Claire Anne: two days old. Her mother, Hannah, is in hospital in Antipolo (another town) with an infection, separated from her newborn who suffers from some type of infection. Then there was three week old Maria, and babies John and Ynah (ee NAH).

Johanna, one year; John Marco, nine months; Empress, eleven months; Princess Daphne, three months; Heart, nineteen months; and baby Geraldine suffers from Kawasaki (not the same Geraldine from my previous "Visiting"). Remember that is a disease of the blood vessels.

Jess, four, was sleeping. The list posted at the foot of his rusty, paint-chipped bed stated that he is suffering from "pre-renal failure."

Zed, Don and Michael were all teenagers on the mend from dengue fever. After I prayed for Michael, his mother announced with a smile, "We're going home now. Merry Christmas, m'am (mom)!" I was so happy for them!

Bheky (like Becky) at 9, however, was in Stage 3 of dengue. Her mother wept as I prayed for her daughter.

Brian, Brian, Brian. "What did he do, Mama?" I asked the mother of a boy with a brace on his neck. He was lying on his back, looking at his new Spiderman coloring book.

"Tumbling, m'am."

"Brian!" I exclaimed! "Brian, The Tumbler!" He grinned. "Would you show me your Spiderman book?"

"Yes, m'am," he replied politely.

"He's your favorite, Spiderman?"

"Yes, m'am." I could see how an active ten year old could nearly break his neck, imagining himself to be Spiderman. Mama said he will be transferred soon to an orthopedic ward in a different hospital, so that was likely the last time I will see Brian, The Tumbler.

Jeffrey, 12, was there still today, too. Remember he is blind, and his face now is unrecognizably swollen, probably from steroids or other medication. We were told that Mama had to go back to work. I wonder if I'll ever get to talk to her again. The other mothers were asking Jeffrey if he wanted to move his head to the foot of his bed so he could feel the breeze from the wall fan. Ah, the wall fans. Perhaps Jeffrey's mama's the one to thank for that (as explained in my previous "Visiting" posts.)

I told about San Jane last time. She's only eighteen months old and her mother works in Saudi Arabia. A bottle was propped for her and she casually drank her dinner from it. Tita (Auntie) had gone back to be with her family for Christmas, we were told, so San Jane was unguarded, unobserved, alone today.

"M'am (mom), look!" Anne called. She wanted me to notice in San Jane's hair the pair of pink bows that matched her outfit. Made me wonder if Tita had actually just stepped out to get some dinner rather than gone home and left San Jane there. Last time Tita had told me she would not leave San Jane alone, Christmastime or no Christmas.

Neithan (like Nathan), 3, and Mike, 7, both had pneumonia. Marc, 12, tried out his English on me and did pretty well. He was in a Members Only-style jacket (remember those?), lying under the covers. He told me, "Hydrocephalus" and smiled. God love him.

Kimberly, 17, lay in her bed moaning. Her mother, Teresita, explained that Kimberly will have brain surgery tomorrow. Every few moments this beautiful young woman lying there propped her elbow up on the bed, then grasped her head. Under furrowed brows tears puddled in her eyes clamped shut.

"Please pray for my Kimberly," Mama asked. I heard her sob as she bowed her head and I prayed. I rebuked this brain sickness in Jesus' name. Whispering prayers into Mama's ear as I hugged her, I asked God to help increase her faith for Kimberly's miracle.

Rey's information posted at the foot of his bed explained that, at 11 years old, he'd been hurt in a car accident. We were told he is in a great deal of pain, and he looked it: his jaws, eyes, nose and shoulders were black and blue. A man there (nearly fully dressed in drag) told us he is Rey's neighbor. I wondered if Rey's mama and papa had also been hurt in the accident. Where were they?

Venus and her precious daughter Cathlyn

"M'am, I will never forget you."

Cathlyn's mother and I spoken openly, truthfully with each other today. Cathlyn might not make it. Venus told me her daughter is not in a coma, and that she cries out when she is poked with needles, etc. The tumor protruding from her left forehead is worse, however. Because of low body weight, surgery is out of the question.

Feeling prompted, I carefully and clearly wrote my e-mail address on a piece of paper in my notebook. "This is my e-mail address," I said, looking deeply into Mama's eyes. "If anything should happen..." my voice trailed, and I lowered my head. "When Lovely Joy passed away, I didn't know. There was no way someone could tell me." I dabbed my eyes.

"I know, m'am," Mama said. "I believe, m'am, I do, but whatever happens, I will inform you. I promise. We will never forget you, m'am."

We mothers-- she, the mother of six, we pillars, we faithful warriors sat on the bench next to Cathlyn, a cord fitly knitted. "Cathlyn has a very special place in my heart," I said, "and so do you."

"Oh, m'am," she mumbled, lowering her head and dabbing her eyes with her fingers. She looked up again. "We will never forget you, m'am."

As we had arrived at the hospital today, Jessica's mother had left the Intensive Care Unit where her daughter lay. She went in search of "sister" (me). "I know you come on this day at this time. I find you!" she grinned. I told her we'd come find her before we left, and that she needed to get permission for us to visit Jessica in ICU.

The door was cracked open a bit and I could see Jessica sitting up in the first bed. Those curls. The brightest of smiles under the most laughing eyes had faded under heavy eyelids. The yellow T-shirt she wore didn't match her pink print pajama pants.

"There's my beautiful girl!" I exclaimed. Later as we crossed the street on our way home, Anne told me, "That's how m'am [Jessica's mother] remembers you."

"Oh? How is that?"

"'There's my beautiful girl!'"

Jessica tried. She fought for it. With all her might and determination, she willed the upward turn of the right side of her mouth. But the eyes just couldn't do any more than plunk down, lift up, plunk down.

"Do you remember M'am?" Mama asked her daughter.

"O, po [Yes, I do]," she replied, then greeted me in Tagalog.

Three mail nurses crisply uniformed in white stood at their nurse's station inside the air conditioned ICU. A plainly clothed gentleman sat at the only desk in the room, writing something. Periodically I noticed them watching me, listening to me and smiling. I hope and believe the staff's hearts are warming toward me; that's my prayer.

As Mama explained that Jessica will have brain surgery tomorrow, a shudder barreled through me. I did a no-no today and sat beside the patient on her bed. Slipping a few fingers through the short, thick, black hair on the side of this precious young girl's face, I had to feel the curls one last time before they're shaved off. "Can I pray for you, Jessica?"

"O, po, m'am," she managed, laying her head back on the pillow. Every ear cocked as I plead the Blood of Jesus over Jessica and asked Him to guide the surgeon's hands.

Dinner meal trays had arrived and Papa was feeding his blind son, young John Philip, a hospital-mate of Jessica's from another ward. How sad that both John Philip and Jessica had been moved to ICU together.

After praying for John Philip, we prayed for Darwin, the only other ICU patient in the ward. "What is his sickness, Anne?"

"Mama says he's crazy now, m'am." God love it. He's only four years old.

As we made our way to the door, I told Jessica's mother, who was feeding her daughter bites of cooked chicken, "I hope you get to go home for Christmas, but if not, I will see you Christmas Day." Then I sang out, "I'll bring you candy, Jessica." Urgency moved me to hug Mama and kiss her cheek. Stroking her shoulder length hair, I said, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, m'am."

"Oh!" It dawned on me. "I didn't get my Jessica kiss." I bent over and kissed a chewing-chicken-Jessica-cheek as she hugged her pillow in between accepting bites from Mama bird.

With her mouth full, Jessica muttered something lip-smacking in Tagalog.

The gentleman seated at the desk interpreted, "She wants to give you a kiss, m'am."

"I get a kiss, too? Oh, boy!" All eyes were on us as I bent my right cheek down to her sweet little face. She stopped chewing chicken long enough to plant a precious pucker on me.

"Mmm," she responded, smacking her chicken lips. Then she said something else in Tagalog, and I looked up again at the interpreter seated at the desk.

"M'am, she said, 'Smells good.'" We all laughed at that! [I wore Lolita Lumpicka today!]

"Awww. Thank you, Jessica. You're so sweet, and you know what?" I cupped my right hand over the spot where she kissed my right cheek. "I am never going to wash off your kiss! And just for that, I get another one," and I kissed her face again.

I hope I get another chance to kiss that sweet Jessica face.

No "Bless" imperatives today. No need. I got all the blessings I can stand for one day.

Washi All Away

2011-12-20T06:00:00.001-06:00

'Twas the weekend before Christmas

And all through the town

No one believed the Weather Man's frown

"The typhoon will come

It is on its way"

But no one believed

One word he did say

You've likely read the report(s) by now. I haven't yet. We were on Guam Island when like a thief in the night tropical storm Washi struck the island of Mindanao (not Luzon where we reside).

"Did you hear about the typhoon that struck Cagayan de Oro?"

Mindanao? I thought. On Mindanao? I thought they never get typhoons or tropical storms. But it was gravely true.

For three days they were warned. It won't affect us down here, they yawned, slapping the snooze button as they turned over on their mats. No one prepared, no one believed, no had one listened.

In a recent report by our district presbyter of Northern Mindanao is line after line of horrifying news. Most are five words divided by a comma. To you and I "house destroyed, all belongings damaged" are ink on paper, images on a screen. Just another report.

Iligan City (pronounced ill ee GONE)
Ramirez family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Caputol family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Gatin family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Bangcon Family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Maglasang family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Siarot family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Cadampog family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Apalla family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
L. Apalla family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Tutor family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
G. Tutor family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
A. Tutor family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Saa family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Actub family: belongings/clothes damaged
Canoy family: some belongings damaged
Abelardo family: belongings damaged
Englatiera family: clothes soaked with mud
Cobillo family: clothes/belongings soaked with mud

We don't see the faces,

nor feel the mud,

can't smell the mold

or hear the heartbreak.

The report concludes with:

Cagayan de Oro City (pronounced cah guy ON day OH row)
Rullida family: house destroyed, all belongings damaged
Quidet family: clothes/belongings soaked with mud

The church and parsonage were flooded and some belongings are damaged. We presently have no electricity.

The church has donated P7,000 for food assistance to those affected. Some of the brethren donated rice and canned goods.

If anyone is interested in helping, it is desperately needed and greatly appreciated. . . .

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is . . .

bright?

We hope to either go or send funds to help. That's the least we can do! Thank you for your prayers for these precious people.

Visiting

2011-12-09T06:00:00.063-06:00

I walked away that afternoon,

covered in Lovely Joy-blown kisses.

A recent Tuesday

Today Annie and I went to National Children's Hospital, so again, where do I begin an emotional post?

San Jane Pearl, nineteen months. Her head is the size of a heart-shaped basketball. It's not only larger than the rest of her body, one can see every blood vessel and membrane beneath the skin stretched so taut, she cannot even close her rolling, cloudy eyes. Her tiny arms and legs were twigs. A plastic lavender bow-clip held wisps of fine black hair together. "Her bow matches her dress," Tita (Auntie) lovingly pointed out.

"I noticed that! She's beautiful," I told Tita with a hug. "San Jane Pearl," I spoke down low into the crib, baby talk. "You are a precious baby girl in your lavender today. Tita fixed your hair, huh?"

Tears in her eyes, Tita told me of the baby's mother's rape and that after she had delivered the child, she went to work in Saudi Arabia. "I don't care if I have to miss being with my own family at Christmas," she explained. She is the mother herself of a healthy infant she's left in the care of another. "My only desire is to see my niece get well."

Geraldine reminded me of a "grown up" Francis. (I told about her last time.) Geraldine, a talkative five or six years old, also had a misshapen face. Where Francis had no nose, Geraldine had a hump where the bridge of her nose would, could or should be while the rest of her nose was shapeless and flat.

Without prompting from Mama, Geraldine reached for my hand for "bless," as is the Filipino custom. Because I am of the age and appearance of being a lola (grandmother), those younger than I take my hand and press it to their own forehead. This is called "bless." Papa or Mama can be heard giving their offspring the imperative, "Bless. Bless." Go on. Take her hand. Be respectful. Press her hand to your forehead. That's it. Show your good manners. I, too, have respectful manners; I do this to my own Filipino lolas and lolos (grandfathers).

Jeffrey, blinded by a brain tumor, was napping today and Mama was out. I sincerely missed seeing her and speaking to Jeffrey while he was awake. As we passed his bed, we breathed a prayer and blessing over him.

I prayed for John Philip again today who is also blind. He was snacking on fried pork rind and didn't acknowledge if he remembered me from last time. His mama was also out.

I could have prefaced this post by stating that, while I waited for Annie to arrive via jeepney so the guard could allow us entrance to the hospital at the same time, Cathyln's mother passed by me as I stood on the hospital's front steps. "Hello, m'am!" she smiled. "Do you remember me, m'am?"

"Of course I do! Your Cathlyn's mother. How is she?"

"She's still there, m'am," she replied, motioning toward the hospital's third floor. "She is the same."

"Can I come see her today? I'm waiting for Annie and then we will come up," I told her.

"Yes, yes! Yes, m'am! Come visit us there in neuro-surgery."

As we walked through the threshold of the neuro-surgery ward, the room was abuzz in anticipation of our arrival. She's here. The white sister's come to pray for our children. Today every bed was full, and I neglected to notice if they'd rehung the electric wall fans. Jeffrey's mother had written a letter of complaint, she told me, that they were "so very hot" since the maintenance department had removed the fans so no harm came to them while they installed a new ceiling in the ward.

Cathlyn's brain tumor is larger, Mama told me her doctors say, and her body weighs even less. "But she is so strong," Mama smiled. "I always talk to her. I pray for her. 'Cathlyn, we all love you. You can get better, Cathlyn. You can do it,' I say. She is a fighter, m'am." I admit that, since that first day I met Kathlyn, she and Mama fashioned a tender spot in my heart for them.

Today there was a bench that Mama invited me to sit next to her on. Annie stood at the foot of the bed, and we began to pray, only this time I watched Cathlyn. "God, I plead Your blood over beautiful Cathlyn, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet." I enveloped her bone-thin arm in my comparatively humongous hand, and laid my other hand gently upon her chest. Like last time, I felt I must touch the heartbeat of Jesus. buh-BUM, buh-BUM, buh-BUM The rhythm of a fighter's drum.

Tears puddled in my eyes as I proclaimed my faith for Cathlyn. "I believe!" I whispered low. I took Mama's hand and prayed for her strength. As we prayed, I heard Mama express her own faith for her nine year old daughter. Jesus has tubes up His nose, taped to His face. He has lain in that bed for more than two months with a brain tumor protruding from His upper left forehead. Cathlyn will die there without a miracle. With a miracle, she will live.

I was sick and you visited Me.

~ Jesus

"I've told a lot of people about Cathlyn," I told Mama. "There are many people praying for her."

She smiled and I kissed her on the cheek. "Come anytime, m'am," she told me. "We love to see you come. We miss you."

I don't remember visiting the dengue ward before. (Dengue is a mosquito-borne illness that is typically fatal for the very young.) While there were several dengue patients in this room, many others apparently were suffering from Kawasaki, inflammation of the blood vessels, a disease I had to Google after I got home.

I've forgotten the precious baby's name, but although he appeared to me to be newborn, in reality I was informed that he is more than two years old. "Before" photos of him were taped to the wall near his rusty crib. "Before" he was a chubby, bouncing toddler. Today, he's skin and bones, suffering from Kawasaki. Mama smiled cheerfully as she wrung warm water from a worn, gray facecloth and with it wrapped her child's naked back. I could see the edges of every rib and the points in every bone of her baby's spine. Oddly, there were rotting teeth inside his little moaning mouth. It was all so horribly wrong.

"Will you pray for my baby?" Mama asked with a grim half-smile. I plead the blood of Jesus over the whimpering form as he lay on his side. I recall thinking, God love it. God love it. God love it.

Today's post concludes with Lovely Joy. Last time I saw her she was attired in a cheerful yellow sundress. "What color is your dress, Lovely Joy?" I had asked. Tita had prompted yellow which Lovely repeated with a grin.

Tita had also prompted "Bless. Bless," to which Lovely responded by pressing my hand to her own forehead. She was going for a ride in her stroller, waving and smiling. She had been told that day that she had a new baby brother.

I had asked, "Lovely, will you hold my hand while we pray?" Smiling, she had agreed and we held hands together while I asked God to heal her of that {rotten} brain tumor. As I walked away, Tita had prompted once again, "Kisses! Kisses!" I walked away that afternoon, covered in Lovely Joy-blown kisses.

Our Lovely Joy has lost the battle. She passed away last week.

What Have You Done with The God Box?

2011-12-08T06:00:00.100-06:00

Twelve prayer warriors.

They know the power of prayer.

~ Diana

"What have I done with The God Box????" my long distance friend Diana's e-mail exclaimed.

"I started on a Saturday with your thought and went to Mother's basement. I dug up some tin boxes, 4x5s, 5x5s, all of very different shapes.

"The next day I told my Sunday school class that we were going to work on a project that would take awhile. Because some prayers take time to work.

"The kids chose a tin box; no two boxes were alike. Because we all look different to God.

"With sandpaper we sanded the boxes. Because when we pray, God takes things off of us, to change us. Sometimes it hurts, but the pain will be worth it. When we pray, God works on us.

"The kids sanded their own boxes and some additional boxes, too, in case another child came on a different Sunday. Because that's like intercessory prayer. We discussed what happens when we pray for others.

"When I spray painted them the following Saturday, I realized that, because the paint slid off, the boxes needed to be sanded better. Several coats of spray paint still didn't seem to do the job. The next day at Sunday school, the kids said, "Hey! The spray paint didn't hide the pictures underneath. You can see the old pictures!" I told them we'd add more paint to cover the boxes better. Because we all need to pray more."

All images, November 2011

Thank you, Diana, for sharing these delightful photos of the kids with their God Boxes.

But wait, folks. She shares more. On recent Saturday "we had a baby shower for my daughter. We did The God Box. It was something new and I had to kind of push it. We passed out pretty paper, and of the sixty guests, it was the twelve prayer warriors who wrote lovely prayers, blessings, words. They know the power in prayer and the power in words.

Diana made this God Box for her unborn grandchild.

I love its cheerfulness!

"The father of the baby and his mother came. Got to say my girls and I cried when we read the (unsaved) soon-to-be-daddy's prayer.

I bless you,
[unborn son] J',

to have everything Dad didn't.

I love you.

Love, Daddy

"We are praying for the salvation of the father of my grandchild. Again, thanks for the idea."

Diana's next project? To continue packing into her charges the godly principles of prayer? "A prayer rug," she said. "I'm going to get some inexpensive rugs, and with fabric paints they'll write on the rugs,

My Name's Prayer Rug.

"If they have a spot they can call their own prayer place, they'll have fun praying at home."

Lovely ideas, Diana! And, oh! The memories of PRAYER your Sunday school students, children and grandchildren will have as a result. I deeply appreciate you taking the time to share these photos which are sure to inspire many.

I'll use a God Box idea myself Monday evening on Guam. The inspiration came from one of my most precious human treasures on earth, Val. Stay tuned, and thanks Val!

Easy Panna Cotta

2011-12-07T06:00:00.020-06:00

My husband loves Italianni's Restaurant's panna cotta.

What's panna cotta, you ask? It's Italian for "cooked cream," a lighter Italian version of cheesecake, and you wouldn't believe how easy it is!

Easy Panna Cotta

Yields: 6

1/3 cup skim milk

1 (0.25 ounce) envelope unflavored gelatin

2 1/2 cups heavy cream (I have to use the local canned "cream" here, which works fine!)

1/2 cup sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

Directions:

1. Pour skim milk into a small bowl. Stir in gelatin powder. Set aside.

2. In a saucepan, stir together the heavy cream and sugar, and set over medium heat. Bring to a full boil, watching carefully, as the cream will quickly rise to the top of the pan.

3. Pour the gelatin-milk mixture into the cream, stirring until completely dissolved. Cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly.

4. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla.

5. Pour into six individual ramekins OR pretty dessert cups.

NOTE:

If you fill them this full, you'll only have five!

*wink*

6. Cool the dishes uncovered at room temperature.

7. When cool, cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate at least 4 hours (preferably overnight).

If you live in Manila,

make ripe mango sauce!

Place chopped ripe mango in the blender

and add some mango nectar drizzle to thin it for sauce.

Then drink it through a straw.

Other sauce or garnish ideas: Caramel sauce, hot fudge, a sauce made with berries, etc. Fruit's my husband's favorite with strawberries at the top of the list!

8. To serve from a ramekin, glide a knife around the side of the panna cotta and invert over a plate. Garnish with sauce.

To serve from footed dessert dishes, place a "sauce boat" of sauce on the table and serve with spoons-- no need to invert the panna cotta! (Yippee-yay-yo!)

Enjoy!

The Sally List

2011-12-06T06:00:00.048-06:00

I've decided to be a better person...

but not right away of course.

Maybe a few days from now.

~Sally to Charlie Brown in Peanuts

For the inspiration to today's post, read here.

The Sally List
Note her key word, above: better.

I WILL BE a better respecter of my husband. I will use a sweeter tone of voice when speaking to him. I will notice him. I will serve him. I will delight in his presence, prefer him and make him a top priority in my day.

I WILL BE better-self-controlled. Here are only a few examples I care to share here.
1. I will not interrupt. Good listeners don't interrupt. I will be a better listener.
2. I will stop my lazy habits of eating after six o'clock each evening. When I eat before six o'clock and not again until break(ing the)fast the next morning, I feel better and sleep better.
3. I will not complain or murmur. I'll acCENTuate the positive.
4. I will refrain from judging.

I WILL BE a better helpmeet regarding healthy choices for my husband: healthy physically, mentally, spiritually, financially.

I WILL BE a better forgiver. I will forgive those who ruined the majority of my personal memories of a very special day.

I WILL BE a better mover. I will take a walk daily.

I WILL BE a runner. "Walk past one house, jog past the next." I. will. be. a. runner.

I WILL BE a better blesser. I will bless the good restaurant server who has been assigned too many tables. I will bless young married couples, young faithful fathers , young diligent mothers and the young who- get a grip!- are just kids! I will bless the elderly and tell them why they are and when and how they have been a blessing to me.

I WILL BE a better finisher. For example, I'm already the author and designer of our Guest Suite here in the Loop. But I will. get. the. Guest. Sour. organized. It cannot be a Guest Suite while it's still sour! Although the lovely window treatments are hung--check! -- and the dust ruffle is on--check! -- and items have been hung on the wall--check!
-- the daybed needs an outfit.
-- My craft closet must. be. organized from alpha to omega.
No, Sally! Do not procrastinate! Work for at least two hours daily in the Guest Sour until it's Suite.

I WILL BE a better difference maker at National Children's Hospital. First, though, I must obtain/secure/acquire a responsible companion to accompany me each Tuesday to pray for the indigent pediatric patients-- all the little "Jesus-es" lying in rusty beds (Matthew 25:36). If I have to pay someone to help me, I will! I need a companion a) in the event there's a language barrier, b) as a witness in the event something goes awry, and c) because Titus 2 women teach the young women. John Maxwell said, "Never go alone;" Jesus sent out His disciples two by two.

Just imagine if you could've walked with Jesus in only one of His days on earth. (Of course, He walks with me today; His Spirit is within me! But you know what I mean.) Imagine if you could've accompanied Mother Teresa on a day of her rounds. Or that you were invited to stay a day and a night with Ruth Bell Graham, (Anna) Eleanor Roosevelt, Margie Becton or Joy Haney. Or that your favorite elementary school teacher was still alive, and you could follow him or her around for a day, enjoy a meal together, talk. Let young women into your life, Kelley. Open the door and 'vite 'em in. Be an essential "vitamin" for a young woman. A mentor. Make a difference.

I WILL BE a better pray-er. I will decide in the first thirty (30) minutes of each morning to
-- pull the big prayer pillows out from under the bed.
-- gather about me the items in my prayer basket (the Bible and another devotional resource, my God Box, my journal and a pen, and a box of tissues).
-- pray and read God's Word first in each day. The only time I cannot take the time to pray is when I'm dead.

If I get out of the bed and head elsewhere inside that 30-minute window, then 35 and 40 minutes slip away, and before I know it, more than the entire first hour of my day is lost. I've neglected the most important relationship in my life. Sally and I can be better.

I WILL BE a better teacher. I will start up another meeting like I had on Guam, which I called More to Life Monday. This new meeting, however, I decided long, long ago to call

C.A.L.M.:

Come And Learn of Me.

(Me = Jesus) I envision it becoming so well attended, we'll have to secure the clubhouse!

I WILL BE a better neighbor to my new neighbors to whom I've failed to introduce myself yet. Yes, it's only December and we only moved here in August. I will take them a loaf of banana nut bread; I have a only a dozen bananas in my freezer.

I WILL BE a better banana bread baker.

I WILL BE a better letter writer. The last monthly letter I wrote to each of my daughters was in March this year. Perhaps they don't even miss the letters they had received from me each month since 2007, but I know in my heart that I need to get back to this labor of love.

I WILL BE a better giver. Of slippers to shoeless children who play and beg on the streets of Manila. (Flip flops here are called slippers.) I've procrastinated on this very old desire! I'll buy a size-variety of flip flops and keep them in a box in the back of our vehicle. We'll pull into McDonald's, buy the kids lunch and open up the back of Evy the Ford Everest so the kids can "shoe shop."

I WILL BE a better mother-in-law. I will encourage, listen, support, brag about, bless and esteem my handsome, godly, responsible and wonderful son.

I WILL BE a better encourager. On my behalf my husband recently secured an elder's blessing: In our home I will host meetings for the purpose of encouraging first ladies (pastor-wives). At each event, I will provide at least three elements for first ladies only.
-- We'll eat a light and scrumptious lunch in my home, if we can all fit!
-- We'll learn something fun, such as a craft or a recipe.
-- We'll break bread with the Word of God. First ladies have unique needs, trials and victories to win. They walk in very special shoes, and beautiful are their feet. Hmm. Maybe that's what I'll call these fillyships together: Beautiful Feet!

I WILL BE a better guard of my Wednesday Quiet Days. Here's a little history about Quiet Day, an idea that I think I got from Dr. James Dobson's wife Shirley and her friend, Gloria, Bill Gaither's wife. When my children were 3 and 7 years old, I initiated a weekly Quiet Day on the day of our church's mid-week evening Bible study. Before and during the thirteen years we home schooled, on Quiet Day our girls would complete their studies, and then each was to play quietly (if possible, silently). They could color, work with Play Doh, do jigsaw or word puzzles, etc. No dolls, no dress-up, no cassette tapes, etc.

Before a lengthy Quiet Day nap, I read aloud to the girls a chapter or two from a book we'd been reading before our bedtime. Their daddy even got a power nap after he got home from work. Refreshed when we got up, we all enjoyed a cup of hot tea or chilled fruit juice together at table before getting dressed for mid-week Bible study. Rested family, rested parents, rested kiddos. Not cranky during mid-week Bible study, not crabby after service, not difficult to put to bed.

Quiet Day was also my husband's and my personal fast day, so I didn't cook a heavy meal, and we encouraged the girls to fast as well. (Muslim children are taught from birth to fast!) If the kids chose to eat something, it was usually something light. After church, we all got ready for bed, then ate a light refreshment together that was usually soup, a bowl of cereal, a piece of toast, etc.

Today, my empty nest Quiet Days consist of staying in my jammies all day, fasting and drinking only water or pure fruit juice, studying, reading, writing, napping, and enjoying a restful, relaxing, quiet day with God. My husband guards my Quiet Days, too, and even encourages me to take an additional one if I want!

So, remembering that it only takes one thing to change everything, I will add to The Sally List, grateful for breath in my lungs and the use of my limbs. And the freedom to be a better person... right away!

And Let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us:

and establish Thou the work of our hands upon us;

yea, the work of our hands

establish Thou it.

~Psalm 90:17

Linking to The Sally List.