I’m typing this while Oklahoma delivers us a thunderstorm in January. While I thankful that the warmer afternoon means we aren’t getting an ice storm, it’s weird to see lightning flash in January.
I spend a lot of time feeding people, with the goal of nourishing them in both body and soul. Most of the time I’m just feeding the giant boys who live here. We have dinner together about five nights a week. Sometimes the college student can’t join us, but we make a plate for him to reheat when he gets in. We talk about all sorts of things around the table – economics, current events, politics, history, books, and almost always Truth. We tell stories about the day, give each other advice, and pray together. These are moments I wouldn’t trade.
It’s hard to get meal prep in, but it’s always worth the effort. This morning, while we were out, the crockpot cooked up a southwestern hash brown and egg casserole – thanks to Jon helping me brown sausage and veggies while I dried off thawed hash browns, grated cheese, and whisked eggs. This evening’s meatballs were made weeks ago at a slower time and frozen for later, and Jon washed turnips and potatoes while I made a soup for us for another meal and more to share with friends. Then he left with the boys, and I sliced and stirred scalloped potatoes (with hidden turnips) and prepped some broccoli to roast. But when we all set down to eat, we chatted for an hour.
Our summer time gluten free sourdough experiment continues, with us making a loaf of sandwich bread twice a week and using sourdough in things like pancakes, waffles, rolls, naan, and tortillas fairly regularly. Since we don’t use gluten in our kitchen at all, this has made the best tasting and nicest textured bread we’ve had in a long time. The sourdough baby gets a scoop of GF flour and an equal-amount of water every day, and he just keeps on raising our loaves. Bread is such a simple staple that is now seems strange that I had adapted to life without it for years because most gluten free bread isn’t worth the calories. Honestly, a pieces of hot buttered toast is just comfortable on a cold morning.
Among feeding the people, I got all my steps in this week. One day I walked in the mist, and another afternoon I watched the blue sky push away the grey, leaving me wishing for sunglasses. I walked twice with Jon, once with my mother, once with Drew, and several times by myself with an audiobook.
Books I Read This Week
I didn’t read all of each of these books this week. I read FROM all of them. I finished two (noted below).
- Madeleine L’Engle’s A Circle of Quiet
- Kristin Harmel’s The Book of Lost Names (finished; page-turner)
- Mark Buchanan’s The Rest of God (finished; still didn’t make it to the stack)
- Stixrub and Johnson’s The Self-Driven Child
- Willa Cather’s Death Comes to the Archbishop (almost done)
- Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace (via audio, but I have a pretty copy)
- Schweikart & Dougherty’s A Patriot’s History of the Modern World
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