tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41806359498137791102024-02-07T09:51:36.504-08:00A Ruffled HeartLaurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-33554687573767529882013-02-20T17:16:00.003-08:002013-02-20T17:16:35.918-08:00Pack Your Bags and Follow Me!Well friends, I did it. I made a bold blogging move to a different place with a prettier palate. <br />
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Perhaps you've wondered where I've been. . .why it's been so quiet. . .well, there are juicy bits of information and fun waiting for you at my new site:<br />
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<a href="http://www.aruffledheart.wordpress.com/">www.aruffledheart.wordpress.com</a><br />
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OR<br />
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<a href="http://www.aruffledheart.com/">www.aruffledheart.com</a><br />
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Thank you for following my journey and for all the love, support, prayers, and comments you have graciously supplied me with over the year. You are fuel for my kitchen experiments, crafty adventures, and lemony life lessons.<br />
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I would love for you to join me again by following my new blog.<br />
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Come on! There's piping hot quiche waiting for you! <br />
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<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-52159189577201310992012-11-02T10:13:00.000-07:002012-11-02T10:13:55.816-07:00When Life Gives You Lemonade<b>"When life gives you lemonade, make lemons and life will be like "WHAAAT?" -Phil Dunphy</b><br />
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Any other Modern Family fans out there?? <br />
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There are lots of lemonade days. . .and then there are lots of lemon days. I think I have the special gift of making lemon days extra sour too due to my shining personality (code for grumpy pants). <br />
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On Monday I had a self inflicted lemon day. Yay.<br />
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I spent all day at the cardiologist. . .I mean from 7:40am to walking to my car at 2:00pm. I am so thankful for congenital heart care and the extra precaution taken with my heart and a growing babe. It wasn't the long doctor appointment that was lemony; it was sitting at the doctor's thinking about how other people just seem to have it made. <br />
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Oh yeah, I went there. And I quickly spiraled out of the skies of rational praiseworthy thoughts into the abyss of why can't things go my way.<br />
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I am ashamed to admit it. But more ashamed to tell you how often it really happens.<br />
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Here's a quick run through of the spiral: bummed to not have a house; super bummed houses are so expensive; super bummed and sad our finances cannot permit me to have a lighter work schedule (ie freedom from cubical kingdom forever); <i>super bummed and super sad that several of my other girlfriends are in places and stations in life that I want to be in.</i> And once the comparing started I was face first in the mud of my abyss.<br />
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Then I received word that another friend (whom I had already compared myself to) just got great news-she was potentially moving into a gorgeous inexpensive place with lots of space (not to mention she fit several of my grumpy categories above). <br />
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That's when I slipped from my super bummed and super sad pity party into the dark dank pit of bitterness. <br />
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<b>It smells bad there.</b> And it makes me cry.<br />
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So on the way home I fought the bitterness and grumblings of my need-it-now give-me-what-I-want tantrum-throwing heart. I knew that demanding from God was not the best route to take, but also felt extreme feelings of resentment.<br />
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It took awhile. I mean all evening and buying a $7 chicken at King Soops before I was even a bit more pleasant. . .and I wouldn't call it pleasant.<br />
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The next day I opened to Matthew and blitzed through my reading plan. Jesus did this; Jesus did that. Ok, time for more cereal. But at the end of reading Matthew 20 no matter how bad I wanted to close that book and continue to let the roots of bitterness choke out every blessing God has given, the Holy Spirit said, "Wait!"<br />
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And there it was. Humbling, eye opening, grace giving, who-am-I <b>truth</b>. Praise the Lord.<br />
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Matthew 20:1-16 is a tough parable (especially for Americans like me). It's a story about a landowner who goes out to find people to work in his field. He finds people, says he'll pay them a denarius and they agree to work for the day. Throughout the day the landowner goes out to find more laborers. He even brings men in at the last hour. When the whistle blew, the workers lined up from those who were just hired to those who labored all day. The landowner gave those who worked an hour a denarius (and those pulling the 12 hour shift are thinking, "We're in the money!"). As the landowner moved to each group of workers, he gave them all the same amount, even those who worked the entire day.<br />
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They were thrilled.<br />
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Yeah right. The sweaty workers grumbled against the landowner and said, "These men were hired last worked only one hour and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of work and the heat of the day!"<br />
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Oh yeah-that's me. <b>"That's not FAIR!!!!" </b> And suddenly I saw myself in the doctor's office grumbling against God for giving to others <b>when I wanted more.</b> <br />
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The landowner replied, "Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Didn't you agree to work for a denarius? Take your pay and go. I want to give the man who was hired last the same as I give you. Don't I have the right to do what i want with my own money?<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">or are you envious because I am generous."</span></i></b></div>
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"Shot through the heart! And I'm to blame!" Yeah, that song might have been coursing through my brain in that moment.</div>
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Am I so envious of God's generosity that I cannot rejoice when he blesses his children? Does my hardened heart really fail to celebrate when God gives good things to others? </div>
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The short and sad answer is Yes.</div>
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I get envious of God's generosity. My heart fails to rejoice when others are blessed, yet I seem to be fine when the blessings are funneling into the Hlushak household.</div>
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I often elevate myself to a position where I am earning my blessings and working for the right for God to give me more. That is a fat lie that will send me on a path to perpetual bitterness, anger, hatred, and a fierce desire to control God.</div>
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After reading that passage and seeing me as that grumbling servant that thought I deserved more, I realized that God has done great things for me and that I forget so easily. He has been exceptionally generous to all his children and he asks us to "rejoice with those who rejoice." </div>
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So to my friend to whom I could not rejoice with, I rejoice with you. The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.</div>
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And I start to remember how much Jesus has blessed me, by giving me his grace and renewing his mercies for me daily. . .</div>
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and blessing me with a little <b>lemon </b>in week 14.</div>
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<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-56705145004454339822012-10-21T17:57:00.000-07:002012-10-21T17:57:23.417-07:00Rumor Has It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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that's right, Andy and I are pregnant!</div>
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What?!!</div>
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It's true. </div>
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And to cement this moment forever in your memory, I bring you the classic dad, mom, and baby pregnancy announcement picture out of objects of decreasing sizes:</div>
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Awwwww. I bet you just can't get enough of these!!!</div>
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We figured we'd stay in season. The aspens didn't mind. Andy's the fat leaf, by the way. He took one for the team.</div>
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We are thrilled to be announcing this miracle. It truly is extraordinary how quickly a baby develops. I am twelve weeks at the time of this post and there is a squirmy little life baking in the Hlushak oven.</div>
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This will be a journey for sure. Pregnancy is. . .well, I'm sure you'll get a taste if you keep up with the ruffled heart. On that note, to every woman who has ever been pregnant before I have something to say to you. . .You're Amazing. You have endured one of the craziest, weirdest, most miraculous things on this earth. . .growing a human being. And I'm not even to the birth part yet. I salute you. And you deserve a massage. . .and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. . .with icecream. . .and a Sonic slushie, because growing a baby is hard. </div>
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So cheers to pregnancy, moms, dads, cheese, cookies, and expanding waistlines.</div>
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<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-12757789571179027622012-10-19T07:28:00.000-07:002012-10-19T07:28:49.581-07:00New AdditionThe first Saturday of October is one of my favorite days of the year. It rivals dress like a cow day at Chickfila and Frappe-hour at Starbies in the summer. It is the one day a year where I go to sleep on Friday and overnight all the magical little elves come and set up their very special craft shops. The morning holds a fantastic site as over 300 white tent vendors have made their homes for the next 8 hours in the park across from my apartment.<br />
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It is crafting in all it's glory. I spend hours walking up and down rows of hot glue and serger goodness. I am dazzled by faux fall foliage and Christmas adornments. I am in love with 90% of everything I see. I take notes thinking, surely I could replicate something like that. . .but I never can. So I just buy it. And revel in my crafty purchases.</div>
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This year I fell in love with a little stuffed pig. Made from old wool sweaters by the cutest braces wearing 13 year old, it sat perched in a little wheelbarrow waiting for a home. I loved that pig the moment I laid eyes on it's snout. I spent many of my precious craft fair minutes holding the pig, talking about the pig, embracing the pig, pacing around the pig. But a stuffed animal? Why was this pig so alluring?!</div>
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Well, let me just show you. . .</div>
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There was no resisting. The 13 year old crafter looked me in the eyes knowing my love for the pig was separated by the price tag and said, "would you like me to sell it to you for less?" </div>
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Yes.</div>
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And so the pig came home with me. <br />
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And for the baby, my pig will be.<br />
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To be continued. . .</div>
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Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-58475717911648009262012-10-12T14:05:00.001-07:002012-10-12T14:05:41.864-07:00Pintrocious: Cookie Cup FAILOk, so I've grown a little more fond of Pinterest since my last rant about how I will never have an original idea again due to the zealous pinners out there (you can read about it <a href="http://www.aruffledheart.com/2012/01/pinterest-were-not-all-martha-stewarts.html">here</a>). But it's been a source of inspiration lately and brings a little joy every time someone repins aruffledheart blog pic. Talk about heart-melting.<br />
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I do love a good pinterest picture of food these days. You know, the ones that totally look replicable and delicious. Recipes that will make all your friends swoon and hate you at the same time. Yes. I like those. And I've tried a few out. <br />
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But sometimes I get a little heated. How can I evoke those precious juxtaposed emotions in my friends when the picture is an unrealistic outcome of what the person made?!<br />
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I think people get ideas in there heads and then search the internet for a picture thinking, "this is definitely what it would look like if I actually did it." <br />
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I cuss at you.<br />
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A few weeks ago I was having a little social time at my house. I wanted to make some tasty (and pretty) snacks for my guests and had in mind a special pin of precious little cookie cups filled with a light whipped topping and fruit. The pictures hypnotized me. I was lost in the colors. <br />
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It seemed so simple too. Pillsbury sugar cookie dough? A muffin tin? Really? That's all?!<br />
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I was off to a grand start. I even dug out that pampered chef tool I'd swear I need every day but had yet to find a reason to use it.<br />
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I followed the limited but simple instructions to the T. <--Is that the correct usage of T?<br />
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But something inside me, call it my womanly pintrocious intuition, (pintrocious as in pin-atrocious) told me to not use the whole roll of dough. . .to try it out first before giving it my all.<br />
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Good thing. . .<br />
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There was some major chemistry explosions happening in the muffin tin and all over my oven. I mean pillsbury everywhere! I pulled them out and let the cookie lava cool. Ten minutes later I had a pintrocious mess of cookie rings with cookie bottoms glued to the bottom of the muffin pan. That was fun to clean.<br />
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So if this mess is on your pin board. . .beware. . .the future of your cookie cups could be the GLAD bag.<br />
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<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-55730789638744717182012-08-23T05:32:00.000-07:002012-08-23T05:32:19.902-07:00Picking up after FallLast Wednesday we had our final summer church picnic. Bringing that bowl of freshly made Texas Caviar in all it's bean dip glory meant one step closer to school starting, and one step closer to the seasonal Lauren slump. <br />
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I love summer. Favorite. <br />
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Fall's nice and all, it just means that winter is just around the corner and after that, Colorado Spring, which is as moody as me in the morning. <br />
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As Andy and I walked across the sports green back to our car I noticed the grass was dotted with little yellow aspen leaves. I instantly began to zoom around the field like a little hoover vacuum picking up as many leaves as possible. I was trying to prevent F-A-L-L. I managed to get about 25 leaves. That should hold it off for awhile.<br />
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On Monday I went to my bi-monthly thirty-one meeting (if you don't know thirty-one, let me just point you <a href="http://www.aruffledheart.com/2012/06/choose-thine-option.html">here</a>). It's time for the new Fall Catalogs. Eeep. I guess it might be time to open my heart up just a little bit to the fall season. But only a little bit. After all, it's not fall until there's pumpkin spice lattes at Starbies.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJaKMoVjNlmOWcyXMvDobHBhnxU6pUt0niytPjPtlRCZ8UVvJ8AmXKRwxcDlnWKDXxHHv9AASWzcfLKOQL4zP9efBOz-R4ZbQAXiwn2QVgzgyW76YhsAsHCH5CxXBpFv2qeo3_k64sdY/s1600/IMG_0328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJaKMoVjNlmOWcyXMvDobHBhnxU6pUt0niytPjPtlRCZ8UVvJ8AmXKRwxcDlnWKDXxHHv9AASWzcfLKOQL4zP9efBOz-R4ZbQAXiwn2QVgzgyW76YhsAsHCH5CxXBpFv2qeo3_k64sdY/s640/IMG_0328.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I am delighted by the thirty-one Fall Catalog surprises and just had to give a sneak peak before it all starts on September 1st! New prints. New products. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibv119G30zaFw22mrzYHe3wjc0kNcihJIdKX73wLT18T_EsCLMA2nlW05uQw_IOhQu4GDaXUBpv1EUp8i9es0nhLxnuw9sjKdmJpMHmG8xu11xnYFwWmGm5DqDuXOWwUMmuWT38aOwD2k/s1600/IMG_0322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibv119G30zaFw22mrzYHe3wjc0kNcihJIdKX73wLT18T_EsCLMA2nlW05uQw_IOhQu4GDaXUBpv1EUp8i9es0nhLxnuw9sjKdmJpMHmG8xu11xnYFwWmGm5DqDuXOWwUMmuWT38aOwD2k/s640/IMG_0322.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Oh yeah, that's a casserole dish carrier. Did I hear someone say potluck season?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsD-9MVotYqVJuBPN5gP_E0OHtwBAUucciUntVDucK682bjQcWiU_EXYJmTcM48zNlSOErJHYabxBk36Lne-RQYgZWnp0z0pAND5aVQgFglXkHxoSyv-FJk7v7EYRvfSU5MLNjyYr5blo/s1600/IMG_0323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsD-9MVotYqVJuBPN5gP_E0OHtwBAUucciUntVDucK682bjQcWiU_EXYJmTcM48zNlSOErJHYabxBk36Lne-RQYgZWnp0z0pAND5aVQgFglXkHxoSyv-FJk7v7EYRvfSU5MLNjyYr5blo/s640/IMG_0323.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I think my MOST favorite part about the Fall Catalog is the new Collegiate Spirit Collection!! That's right, you can select team patches and names to be embroidered onto your favorite thirty-one bag! I'm definitely getting some Seminole love stitched up on a tote. Go Noles!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimS4Na_Swr8CDFFNNsykJiDU61NVIQYMGNwxK_qyJlF4Y0tpDHzrR8RxUV9-DHBUfdtc6P6qYn2Fsm6azFLSNSpgnDHiWB8sQZgkM0wZvMzQYArLVCTnarcN20YMvu5Z-rP_4-h8264lY/s1600/IMG_0325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimS4Na_Swr8CDFFNNsykJiDU61NVIQYMGNwxK_qyJlF4Y0tpDHzrR8RxUV9-DHBUfdtc6P6qYn2Fsm6azFLSNSpgnDHiWB8sQZgkM0wZvMzQYArLVCTnarcN20YMvu5Z-rP_4-h8264lY/s640/IMG_0325.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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And as a little treat, thirty-one sent me home with a medium utility tote with some cute little kissy snowmen. . .and mr. big bottom. I love it. I think it's presh. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaruhdDdwo1f8757c0MPveJHVJXAfjpeP7QbCPkKvsV2_ovpU8zPbIeCWaK1_C7rrQlAYEkxC8Hc1zR02bmbzAPdJQhzjPArfpCl3JYU0u-IdMisxOv4IJV1saYo6oxs7xpS-JNgbaEgs/s1600/IMG_0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaruhdDdwo1f8757c0MPveJHVJXAfjpeP7QbCPkKvsV2_ovpU8zPbIeCWaK1_C7rrQlAYEkxC8Hc1zR02bmbzAPdJQhzjPArfpCl3JYU0u-IdMisxOv4IJV1saYo6oxs7xpS-JNgbaEgs/s640/IMG_0329.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This thirty-one thing is definitely an adventure!</div>
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And though summer eternally lives in my heart, happy up-and-coming fall!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-28997140027773339312012-08-20T17:09:00.000-07:002012-08-21T10:22:48.100-07:00Nursing Your Sweet Tooth<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://suchprettythings.typepad.com/.a/6a00e553a4097c88340120a595aa38970b-500wi" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://suchprettythings.typepad.com/.a/6a00e553a4097c88340120a595aa38970b-500wi" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(suchprettythings.typepad.com)</span></td></tr>
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I'm not eating refined sugar right now. I'm taking a little break from it. But I don't count the mini twix and snickers I had for lunch. . .they were so tiny! Or the chocolate diary protein shake I had for my after work snack-it's organic (never mind the first ingredient is cane sugar).<br />
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Sugar is so pervasive. It's difficult to avoid and it's highly addictive (not to mention pretty-have you seen what people are doing with cupcakes these days?!) This little infographic quantifies our little bittersweet living situation I like to call "living in Candy Land."<br />
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And after reading this. . .bring on the bacon.<br />
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<a href="http://www.onlinenursingprograms.com/nursing-your-sweet-tooth/"><img alt="Nursing Your Sweet Tooth" border="0" src="http://images.onlinenursingprograms.com.s3.amazonaws.com/nursing-your-sweet-tooth.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
Created by: <a href="http://www.onlinenursingprograms.com/">www.OnlineNursingPrograms.com</a>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-45562722125951750722012-07-27T06:45:00.001-07:002012-07-27T06:45:40.669-07:00Friday Snapshot: Pure Instinct<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last Thursday I woke up with an email from my dad and two pictures:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span> One of our cats - Diddy - gets up on my desk every morning and sweeps off all of the paperwork with her tail. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here she is in action this morning.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">"</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGirhf4jZom9JzURcfRNV-_pq9yi6T-axYx_BcP73fPxM4HTRpZja1hpSfA9SyKHqSEOm_T7Q4K_-JYDvg1Db6r77qAVb7LSdo2RZeeRzSRMGuIAs4i5NJGXKcbzmwWGky8jL9YrCfFw/s1600/Diddy_Bird_Blur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGirhf4jZom9JzURcfRNV-_pq9yi6T-axYx_BcP73fPxM4HTRpZja1hpSfA9SyKHqSEOm_T7Q4K_-JYDvg1Db6r77qAVb7LSdo2RZeeRzSRMGuIAs4i5NJGXKcbzmwWGky8jL9YrCfFw/s640/Diddy_Bird_Blur.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I love this picture. I also love that my dad seems tolerant to the daily paper pushing havoc caused by a kitty tail. Must be years of child rearing that makes him so patient with a cat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe one day I'll get a kitty.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6prCy5QUGcvf6NQHvcWfRSfxhFHoyQQs-Hxhhk8Rwp3WPuPrCq1nqWVelOCde6Mf6__glBChNoq2kchMgcC5i6-ObA9rK8HylKuM0I1BpqeZDAMlKyK0J4S7k-faWKc5I7o4xsL09eGo/s1600/Diddy_Bird_Blur2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6prCy5QUGcvf6NQHvcWfRSfxhFHoyQQs-Hxhhk8Rwp3WPuPrCq1nqWVelOCde6Mf6__glBChNoq2kchMgcC5i6-ObA9rK8HylKuM0I1BpqeZDAMlKyK0J4S7k-faWKc5I7o4xsL09eGo/s640/Diddy_Bird_Blur2.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> But maybe kids first. </span></div>
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</span></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-7205179274812104172012-07-24T16:21:00.000-07:002012-10-21T17:24:52.218-07:00[Inspiration] Short and Stubby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You know when your art supplies just whittle away under the pressures of your ever flowing creativity? </div>
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Slowly that favorite marine blue berol prismacolor pencil begins to loose it's girlish figure</div>
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and shrink into the useless stub. </div>
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But you don't throw it out. Just like you don't throw out <i>magazines</i>, or <i>ribbon</i>, or <i>fabric scraps</i>. </div>
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Because eventually (<i>and by eventually I mean never</i>) you think you'll use it.</div>
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Recently I found an image that inspired me to take back my craft scraps and to give validation to my hoarding problem of used up art supplies.</div>
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Behold,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGM0RqsaWyCe2TFDFqp7qUDYz6Dn7_TvFahKyxKlomuEVXNoVQVrk1RbGjkmV-2EaDED1EBuIn7Qhyvj0lowGQM-7EwwD-ODcNuUw3qCOkZKyDGBer3tRdYTUfhhgJfd7aFNt_JK2EzY/s677/colored+pencil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGM0RqsaWyCe2TFDFqp7qUDYz6Dn7_TvFahKyxKlomuEVXNoVQVrk1RbGjkmV-2EaDED1EBuIn7Qhyvj0lowGQM-7EwwD-ODcNuUw3qCOkZKyDGBer3tRdYTUfhhgJfd7aFNt_JK2EzY/s640/colored+pencil.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Simply Presh. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhnnDqymHdqU07JxYQp8lwhPNIA8GuuBy3luYiPkNCLTwYNiWJzOt7df_lkCGp8KG7NuN6mm6eS0HXUPPjy_U7_aGmXqUh8uYdNaLCbUm6KmfhH6ngdXyLKge4FAxxm6y6uRqjaWv92Y/s1600/L+colored+pencils.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhnnDqymHdqU07JxYQp8lwhPNIA8GuuBy3luYiPkNCLTwYNiWJzOt7df_lkCGp8KG7NuN6mm6eS0HXUPPjy_U7_aGmXqUh8uYdNaLCbUm6KmfhH6ngdXyLKge4FAxxm6y6uRqjaWv92Y/s400/L+colored+pencils.jpg" width="338" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from Twopeasinabucket.com</td></tr>
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And the photo I found just happened to be the best letter of the alphabet to re-purpose all those cute little pencil stubs.</div>
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Want to make one? Me too.<br />
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I showed Andy this project and he said, "Cool. . .but where are you going to get all the colored pencils you need?"<br />
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With a brief spurt of hope I dashed to our art supplies rubbermaid tower only to find that there was not even one lonely lost crayola colored pencil. I would have even settled for rose art. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCQf4GcHmLQdS4yS79ibe2V6HE8WLm8GwAIqsRZdzYoCqH2LPhdou3F3OKqURu2Mg8mw6t4Ddds5t5ItBh0qJ0xqEzyM52ZSvYMQvXhvxzAGZAoXBF04V5keZ5M6Cl13lWmUtthyj4E0/s1600/pens.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCQf4GcHmLQdS4yS79ibe2V6HE8WLm8GwAIqsRZdzYoCqH2LPhdou3F3OKqURu2Mg8mw6t4Ddds5t5ItBh0qJ0xqEzyM52ZSvYMQvXhvxzAGZAoXBF04V5keZ5M6Cl13lWmUtthyj4E0/s640/pens.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Needless to say, I am still blogging about how I would create this project when that future day of pencil acquisition comes. Is this totally lame? Eh.<br />
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<b>First </b>pick a letter and find your favorite font (I like serif fonts-you know, the ones with little feeties).<br />
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<b>Second, </b>print it out and trace it to your background. (Try covering cardboard in pretty wrapping paper, or choose something with texture like burlap.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_eKwYt2WmdvNChyqh4Dp_CPmm7Amk26Qovypmc5c7PBBb3vDm44SZ1xKuadzWnBr3FIhVuSxOz7RSOCPCH18iPXAZRoLWKhOMEt0NyD8FApLXyDq7CT9dgQiYl1qxEE2jz-uX4VgjoKk/s1600/wrapping+paper.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_eKwYt2WmdvNChyqh4Dp_CPmm7Amk26Qovypmc5c7PBBb3vDm44SZ1xKuadzWnBr3FIhVuSxOz7RSOCPCH18iPXAZRoLWKhOMEt0NyD8FApLXyDq7CT9dgQiYl1qxEE2jz-uX4VgjoKk/s640/wrapping+paper.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Third</b>, dig out all those little pencil stubs and start sizing it up! You can always sharpen to adjust sizes. Unless of course you only have random hotel pens and sharpies.<br />
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<b>Fourth</b>, Glue them down.<br />
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<b>Finally,</b> Mount in shadow box frame. (Check Goodwill for some frames.)<br />
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Tada! No more tears over your favorite supplies that reach their last leg. <br />
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Now off to find some of those coveted colored pencils!<br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-44454232410931922902012-07-10T13:47:00.004-07:002012-07-10T13:47:55.065-07:00Gettin' in the Greens (smoothie recipe)I do like vegetables. <b> I promise. </b> Sometimes they are just harder to grab on the go. Or you have prepare them somehow. And who likes eating chard in the morning?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-hUlkCIEcMqeSJAZ8nxRWP4_e9R8llUFhlXT5xttAc7EBUhn1J86-_fyKxldixlMMi9-qnrU1mcBAICyFTI9Zc4HHkHLYAJf8uGXzU9N8qq8T_orGP3KJumjO9Ylz9UXw4TIK218IyE/s1600/IMG_2148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-hUlkCIEcMqeSJAZ8nxRWP4_e9R8llUFhlXT5xttAc7EBUhn1J86-_fyKxldixlMMi9-qnrU1mcBAICyFTI9Zc4HHkHLYAJf8uGXzU9N8qq8T_orGP3KJumjO9Ylz9UXw4TIK218IyE/s640/IMG_2148.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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In 2007 a friend told me he tried to eat 5-9 fruits and vegetables a day. I laughed. How hard could that be?<br />
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Then I started to count. . .<br />
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Breakfast: 0/9<br />
Lunch: 1/9<br />
Dinner: 1/9<br />
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Yikes. At most I was eating 3 servings of fruits and veggies a day. <b>Oh the shame!</b><br />
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So I made a mid-year resolution: I will eat 5-9 fruits and vegetables a day!<br />
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I was passionate about this. I almost felt as though I needed a cape every time I reached for some green beans. A theme song began to play as I zealously proclaimed my quest for the home grown.<br />
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In the midst of my dietary rampage I went to have my yearly physical. Yay. Did the obligatory blood work and left wishing they passed out suckers to emerging young professionals.<br />
<br />
A week later I got a call from the doctor. "Hi Lauren, just following up on your blood work. You have pretty high levels of potassium right now. Are you taking potassium suppliments?"<br />
<br />
"No," (and I don't like bananas either, I thought about adding).<br />
<br />
"Are you eating a lot of fruit."<br />
<br />
Pause.<br />
<br />
The caped fruit eating crusader slowly backed away leaving me to have to explain my new food revolution.<br />
<br />
"Well, yes. I mean, I'm trying to eat 5 to 9 fruits and vegetables a week."<br />
<br />
"Ok, well, how many of the 5-9 are servings of fruit," asked my doctor.<br />
<br />
<b>Well shoot.</b> No one told me 5-9 didn't include 8 servings of fruit and 1 serving of veggies.<br />
<br />
"You're going to have to stay away from fruit for a bit. . .and things that have potassium in them to get these levels evened out. Try incorporating more vegetables in your diet."<br />
<br />
And there you have it. More reasons not to trust guys who give food advice and my opinions on nutrition.<br />
<br />
Since my potassium incident I really do try to incorporate vegetables wherever possible, or palatable. Like throwing spinach in eggs, or spinach on a sammie, or spinach with chicken, or do a little switch-a-roo and replace spinach with kale. <br />
<br />
I didn't say I had a huge repertoire.<br />
<br />
Recently a friend of mine told me she put spinach in her <b>fruit smoothies</b>. . .and you couldn't even taste it!<br />
<br />
Baffled and in unbelief I tested this out the very next day!<br />
<br />
I am always looking for ways to eat more vegetables and not have to taste them!<br />
<br />
She recommended two cups of raw spinach at most. . .three cups starts tasting like a liquid salad.<br />
<br />
So here you go: <b><span style="font-size: large;">Gettin' in the Greens</span></b> (you know, to balance out that 5-9 ratio!)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Add some spinach</b></div>
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<b>Add some frozen fruit and fresh fruit (I had cherries, blackberries, and blueberries).</b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I love summer.</b></div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Add some ice if you don't have a lot of frozen fruit.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Add some juice (I usually use frozen juice and add water).</b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Blend to perfection.</b></div>
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<b>Now you can eat your veggies with a cherry on top!</b></div>
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One last note. . .I tried doing this with broccoli. Results not desirable. I'm sticking with the spinach.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-79194666286511360092012-07-08T21:13:00.001-07:002012-07-09T21:14:53.527-07:00Urban Garden Party: LanternsAgain, I've been wooed by the Target bulls-eye. What turned into finding a baby shower present and picking up toilet paper only led me to casually walk the aisles for clearance treasures.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I found little lanterns and suddenly flashes of miniature Martha Stewart garden parties on my porch started reeling through my head like a silent movie. That's right, garden parties aren't for gardens anymore. They can be right in a suburban 3rd floor apartment just minutes from a metropolis. <br />
<br />
And so shall it be. <br />
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Sunday craft time.<br />
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<br />
The lanterns cost about a buck each. I used left over candles from my wedding (why did I buy so many??). And I had my kind, patient husband help me hang them from the porch ceiling. <br />
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<br />
As he's screwing in the hooks I kept thanking him in between saying, "Are you sure we can put holes in the ceiling?" Don't get me wrong, I wanted them there, I just also wanted to shirk responsibility in the case of a tenant no-no.<br />
<br />
I tied the lanterns to string. . .maybe I'll get out some pretty ribbon later. . .<br />
<br />
and hung them from the hooks.<br />
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<br />
Third floor garden party.<br />
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You're invited. . .</div>
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Just bring the dessert :)Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-8732553626963074942012-07-05T20:44:00.001-07:002012-07-07T11:03:04.996-07:00MuffookieHave you ever mastered a recipe? And by mastered I mean you can remember the recipe without having to thumb through a book or goo up your laptop keyboard for an ingredient mind jog; you also know it consistently tastes the way that produces a little squeally sigh deep from the underbelly of contentment.<br />
<br />
I have finally found a master recipe.<br />
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I call it, the Muffookie. (Don't say it three times fast.)<br />
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<br />
It needs a better name, I know. Suggestions that sound a little less profane or Star Wars related, are welcome.<br />
<br />
I can make this recipe in 10 minutes and it bakes in 12-14.<br />
<br />
You can swap out ingredients.<br />
<br />
You can bake it anyway you'd like.<br />
<br />
And, bonus! They are probably the healthiest baked good I have ever made.<br />
<br />
And now, I have plotted their rise to total kitchen domination by prepping jars of dry goods packed with ingredients. They line my shelf like little artillery shells filled with smokin good stuff.<br />
<br />
Here is the cross-my-heart-this-really-works-master-recipe:<br />
<br />
Dry:<br />
3/4 cup oats-ground into flour by food processor<br />
1 cup flour (choose thine option: gluten free, whole wheat, white, almond)<br />
2 Tbsp flax seed meal<br />
1 tsp baking powder<br />
1/2 tsp salt<br />
1/4 tsp xanthum gum (if you used gfree flour)<br />
mix it all thoroughly with a sifter-fun fun fun!<br />
<br />
Wet:<br />
1/4 cup butter<br />
1/4 cup sugar (choose thine option: honey, agave nectar, brown sugar, white sugar)<br />
1 tsp Vanilla extract<br />
1 Tbsp Molasses (gives it that sassy kick)<br />
1 egg<br />
1/4 cup natural applesauce (add at the end of wet ingredients)<br />
<br />
Beat butter for 1 minute; add sugar and beat 1 minute; add vanilla, molasses and beat 1 minute, add egg and applesauce and mix until combined. Add all dry ingredients. Mix well.<br />
<br />
Add ons:<br />
chocolate chips<br />
coconut flakes<br />
almond extract<br />
walnuts<br />
sweet potato<br />
banana (add with wet ingredients-muffookies will be more moist)<br />
<br />
I like to use my pampered chef scoop and put about a tablespoon of batter on a parchment lined cookie sheet. I'm guessing a muffin tin could possibly work? But don't take my word for it.<br />
<br />
Bake at 350 for 12-14 minutes.<br />
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<br />
Delish. I am in love. Any nutritionist like to give me their health opinion on this? But only if it's positive.<br />
<br />
I love these on Sunday morning with my English Breakfast Tea and my newspaper and Target ad.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond the Muffookie</span></b><br />
<br />
What takes this beyond just a mastered recipe, is the idea to pre-mix the dry ingredients!! I know, it's like those cookie jars I used to see other kids' moms make for teachers at Christmas. But this time, it's for me and my Sunday mornings. <br />
<br />
This has significantly cut down on kitchen mess. And Lord knows, I am a tornado in my kitchen.<br />
<br />
So I ground lots of oats, did some measuring. . .<br />
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and within 15 minutes I had my jars filled and beaming with oaty goodness.</div>
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Another <b>simple solution</b> I found when making jars of pre-mix, is to place the jar over a pliable lining, like parchment paper. I don't know about your pouring accuracy, but if you're anything like me, trying to get flour into an old kroger small mouthed applesauce jar exponentially increases my monthly grocery budget. So measure, dump, and re-dump the flour that didn't quite make it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgNfqvb7X_9kQkzMQi0g7KmqIniaIS3eBT1BbZFaFroDgE5EG45Zfs2l9MHAxL7vB7G3FtfNN2Ehvkj-DUWrTovKOTmilJDCGiovifs6iXsvKMChlCGIKdpA56lQnZ4scP-JmLAO4nQg/s1600/oattopview.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgNfqvb7X_9kQkzMQi0g7KmqIniaIS3eBT1BbZFaFroDgE5EG45Zfs2l9MHAxL7vB7G3FtfNN2Ehvkj-DUWrTovKOTmilJDCGiovifs6iXsvKMChlCGIKdpA56lQnZ4scP-JmLAO4nQg/s640/oattopview.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Well, with 29 years under my belt, I finally have found a couple simple solutions that were not in my Real Simple magazines. . .take that muffin ice cubs (see latest issue). <br />
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May the Muffookie bring you many mornings of sweet happiness!<br />
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<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/3850703/a-ruffled-heart?claim=tcswygm5v3t">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-14680292916288927892012-06-30T13:14:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:07:11.262-07:00CharredA week ago today, Andy and I headed toward Colorado Springs to visit friends and delight in beloved sites. As early as Castle Rock we saw a little puff of smoke rising from the front range. <br />
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<b>At 1:02pm I tweeted, "Colorado is on #fire #again :(" </b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo tweeted at 1:02pm on Saturday, June 23rd</td></tr>
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Little did I know this tiny puff of smoke would grow into one of the most devastating events in Colorado's history.<br />
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<b>At 3:16pm </b>while scarfing down the most delicious oatmeal icecream at Josh and Johns with my Florida friend Rachel, I received a text from Andy: <b>"Don't go hiking. They are evacuating Eagle Lake."</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2sCNoCZJuO_IZS1HVDLhu4PXJDDtjOQxqdgsByl3ItBssXjDi9RpUBwNq5DWRyVtpOXn9kg0Rzr9YK3VDkfUqDG6YGzbkTu2C7KQ8IgMn6_UUJT9qqzX8Hc7zZ2OFeXyEpRyIiy8TFFc/s1600/elc+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2sCNoCZJuO_IZS1HVDLhu4PXJDDtjOQxqdgsByl3ItBssXjDi9RpUBwNq5DWRyVtpOXn9kg0Rzr9YK3VDkfUqDG6YGzbkTu2C7KQ8IgMn6_UUJT9qqzX8Hc7zZ2OFeXyEpRyIiy8TFFc/s640/elc+fire.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eagle Lake Camp, Saturday, June 23rd<br />
Photo by Andrew Brown</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Around 3:50pm </b>Andy was snapping photos atop the castle at Glen Eyrie with his friend, Daniel. As they climbed down and they got word that <b>it was time to evacuate the property. </b> The fire was coming.<br />
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<b>At 4:15pm it was time to go.</b> Rachel got a text from her host home that they were preparing to evacuate. She needed to go gather her belongings. We hugged and said we'd always remember the time the fire made us say goodbye.<br />
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<b>At 8:32pm</b> we drove away from the Springs while<b> I watch flames dance on top of nearby ridges. </b>My heart was anxious for how the land, the homes, the people, would fare through this event.<br />
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For the next five days I became glued to KKTV.com and the Gazette website. I was hungry for up-to-date information and constantly searching for burn area maps. I prayed and pleaded for the safety and protection of the places that were so dear to my heart, namely, Eagle Lake Camp, nestled in the pines of Pike National Forest. <br />
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Eagle Lake opened my eyes to the wonders of God, discipleship, ministry, and Colorado. After serving there in the summer of 2003, my was palate was prepped for a more permanent western adventure. I served there again in 2004, and after graduating from Florida State, I packed up everything I could stuff in my '93 Toyota Camry and headed west to serve at Eagle Lake for two more summers. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eagle Lake, 2006</td></tr>
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Each day the fire crawled closer and closer toward the camp property. I had painfully clear images of flames licking up girls camp where a cough drop is still stuck to a board in Marigold cabin from when I was a sick counselor in 2004; and of flames tearing through the Dining Hall where I once yelled, "it dusty in here?" to give announcements to the campers; and flames consuming the path to Bear Rock where we led never ending lunch hikes with whiny voices only for their mourning to turn to joy when they approached the summit and stuffed their little mouths with pb&j's in front of a majestic vista. It hurt to think about the pristine property, lying quiet, still untouched, while a fire pillaged surrounding acres.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWOE6zTFky3XY_MkNBScOS6pbbfQejKZoYRdp2iju0_9PQv_TCf7JD6tSPdxEgcCHvhmGyqrvHqEFpaWKgqdTRVa5gFzJmLuItNtBbkfjZ7nYSFcOnxtG29i1ORDbo3U_w4oKqllrO_c/s1600/fire+map+saturday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWOE6zTFky3XY_MkNBScOS6pbbfQejKZoYRdp2iju0_9PQv_TCf7JD6tSPdxEgcCHvhmGyqrvHqEFpaWKgqdTRVa5gFzJmLuItNtBbkfjZ7nYSFcOnxtG29i1ORDbo3U_w4oKqllrO_c/s640/fire+map+saturday.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aftermath of Saturday, June 23</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aftermath of Sunday, June 24</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBys6jkLCc_nulSPZ7OIstbNWJNiXnkIlAuRm4mHIgrKHD0n7gheJTWhMpThQ3h1kOQAyN0zlMMxIPqRlHL6EMDyHo2hH7fx7dNjxQLxFl0hb1jpggBZ6s6hQET-ufsuJsfyKr2gQAJY/s1600/fire+map+monday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBys6jkLCc_nulSPZ7OIstbNWJNiXnkIlAuRm4mHIgrKHD0n7gheJTWhMpThQ3h1kOQAyN0zlMMxIPqRlHL6EMDyHo2hH7fx7dNjxQLxFl0hb1jpggBZ6s6hQET-ufsuJsfyKr2gQAJY/s640/fire+map+monday.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aftermath on Monday, June 25</td></tr>
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I think the pain was magnified knowing what heartache comes in the aftermath of fire. In August of 2009, I returned from a hike only to see a column of the thickest, blackest, most angry smoke I have ever seen coming from the direction of my home. Instinctively I knew that my life was changing as I headed closer. I ran through the maze of condos and into the sight of flames ripping through my tiny dwelling space. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigW6mjttl1EmGlH6sL9ljV6rMHt0xpiG4dOqoVxszUuASyCTYs1njVQac2IggK0d8ioebu15T0wTGXnxRwI3uU2T-tf3IZPKZe6F1Hip1PhLXbYPg3njsSpfqZIZafg0mONSJwfcw_-AQ/s1600/fire+in+bedroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigW6mjttl1EmGlH6sL9ljV6rMHt0xpiG4dOqoVxszUuASyCTYs1njVQac2IggK0d8ioebu15T0wTGXnxRwI3uU2T-tf3IZPKZe6F1Hip1PhLXbYPg3njsSpfqZIZafg0mONSJwfcw_-AQ/s640/fire+in+bedroom.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My bedroom.<br />
Photo compliments of Stellar Propeller Studios</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjcoTPO2a-kc7Mb9mImH0Db6ta5X5Xo1VEdQgj99aP0PuTnJy0sFw2VoI0XngSbg-QK1HSKa5uWNuFVSnCMp8nny74aiDeJUBPFvGY2DDt9S1r05ne4fbVyo0OO1zrBmSKZHjYqON12o/s1600/firefighter+roof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjcoTPO2a-kc7Mb9mImH0Db6ta5X5Xo1VEdQgj99aP0PuTnJy0sFw2VoI0XngSbg-QK1HSKa5uWNuFVSnCMp8nny74aiDeJUBPFvGY2DDt9S1r05ne4fbVyo0OO1zrBmSKZHjYqON12o/s640/firefighter+roof.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fight fires.<br />
Photo compliments of Stellar Propeller Studios</td></tr>
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I cannot describe to you the feeling of absolute helplessness I experienced I as looked on. There was nothing I could do. Even if I threw my body on the flames themselves, I would not have stopped their consuming power. But louder than the sirens, louder than the clamor of the crowd, and the media frenzy, was the whisper of the Holy Spirit with these words,<br />
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"I will keep in perfect peace, him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in me." Isaiah 26:3<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9bEROvd9h6waOA_vUr-MXLXaoHZvnqpqJB7ARtD78CM1GmdOoWDTom7v59ln5hmS1Qd_R1MfCQjPHTg2OpSi_ATBIVsrhooxhtK2_TPS6GWTrtuq4I4qxCNd6vcy6CHE1842rb3Yrls/s1600/lauren+and+house+burned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9bEROvd9h6waOA_vUr-MXLXaoHZvnqpqJB7ARtD78CM1GmdOoWDTom7v59ln5hmS1Qd_R1MfCQjPHTg2OpSi_ATBIVsrhooxhtK2_TPS6GWTrtuq4I4qxCNd6vcy6CHE1842rb3Yrls/s640/lauren+and+house+burned.jpg" width="362" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day after.<br />
Photo compliments of Stellar Propeller Studios </td></tr>
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The months to come were nothing short of difficult and painful. I will tell you, rebuilding it all is a journey. But there are untold blessings in each of those days. Experiences I never would have chosen, created a channel so deep and directly to God. The family of God rallied around me and provided for my needs. My friend, Allison, looked me in the eyes as my condo burned in the background and said, "I want to be here for you, and I'll stay if you want me too, but do you want me to go buy you some underwear?" Blessings all around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw17YBYwZXforoo21mnlIgO7V7XeIqJaKWXTBlE62ewGjr_zMouC8keHpYKI-3gPpHIYhLtSl2WS5pHrh-YGBOI4rh34pafnHFY6Xj3IdBslSdk2WaMBrn9Z6De1VghhIyiUoebfpH7s8/s1600/fire+stuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw17YBYwZXforoo21mnlIgO7V7XeIqJaKWXTBlE62ewGjr_zMouC8keHpYKI-3gPpHIYhLtSl2WS5pHrh-YGBOI4rh34pafnHFY6Xj3IdBslSdk2WaMBrn9Z6De1VghhIyiUoebfpH7s8/s640/fire+stuff.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My computer and glasses.<br />
Photo compliments of Stellar Propeller Studios</td></tr>
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I know a little bit of the grief, but I know the gift. I know that if the Lord decided it was time to take Eagle Lake, that there would be his merciful hand there to bless the newness that would come. I still wondered with a heavy heart, what God would do in the midst of this trial.<br />
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Throughout this all, I continually thought of the story in Daniel of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, who enraged King Nebuchadnezzar by worshiping the Living God. The King planned to throw these men into a fiery furnace to watch them burn alive. Their response amazes me each time:<br />
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"O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, <b>the God we serve is able to save us from it</b>, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. <b> But even if he does not</b>, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." Daniel 3:16-18<br />
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God is able. But if he doesn't? We will still worship him alone, because he alone is Good.<br />
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The infrared scans continued to pour in and on Monday, the camp was clearly being attacked and eventually surrounded. Until yesterday I did not know the outcome. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQ9KWvjmexKf6jmvXTPxcktljuOI1h0THu-9d8cPkrZgJnMW2e15KvUlI5z5_PILSFbQ0P5xRXQk9f-hxdM5kqmU9fuvhdaH4Si90yFrtbwto2H1dLRTznrd9Jt9RL5dNxiRAzh1nCxk/s1600/eagle+lake+map+final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQ9KWvjmexKf6jmvXTPxcktljuOI1h0THu-9d8cPkrZgJnMW2e15KvUlI5z5_PILSFbQ0P5xRXQk9f-hxdM5kqmU9fuvhdaH4Si90yFrtbwto2H1dLRTznrd9Jt9RL5dNxiRAzh1nCxk/s640/eagle+lake+map+final.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Tuesday, June 26, camp was surrounded.</td></tr>
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<b>At 3:22pm on Friday, June 29th, </b>I received a text from my friend Jamie who was attending a Navigators meeting, <b>"the cross at Eagle Lake is still standing."</b><br />
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A beam of hope.<br />
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<b>At 4:35pm Jamie continued, "A firefighter said there were some truly miraculous things that happened."</b><br />
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I learned that through it all the damage to structures at Eagle Lake was minimal. The forest melted in the furnace and has left some sad scarring, but at the heart of Eagle Lake, aspen leaves are dancing and stately pines grace the hill. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/41_557492952543_8697_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/41_557492952543_8697_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cross at Eagle Lake, 2006</td></tr>
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I praise God for his mercy and choosing to allow camp to remain.<br />
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With that said, the fire marched on.<br />
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I know that within a few hours on Tuesday, June 26th at around 4:30pm flames ripped down the foothills and devoured an estimated 346 homes, including seven homes of Navigator staff. My heart aches for them and the moment the victims will lay eyes on the scarred properties where their homes once stood. I can only continue to pray and hope with them that in the days to come God will be there providing the utmost care for their deepest needs.<br />
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I am so thankful for the power of God and continue to submit to the fact that his ways will always be above my understanding.<br />
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Praise the Living God.<br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-89093401261315260482012-06-20T21:08:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:09:10.074-07:00The Secret of the Zucchini StripI've been seeing all these fancy-pants zucchini strip dinners lately. My first thought? I can do that.<br />
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<b>I go for what I deem my most regrettable wedding registry item </b>I requested and open the box. What I had hoped to be a revolutionary tool to effortlessly create julienne style potatoes your grandma would be jealous of turned out to be a <b>potential extremity altering death trap</b>. Who thought it was a good idea to slide your hand across a giant blade while applying pressure to a slippery vegetable? A little note to all registry participants-do your research on mandoline slicers. . .it could save you from a future as a hook wielding pirate. Arr. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It had so much potential when I saw it online. If only it wasn't so easy to add things to your Target registry.<br />
Blast you, Target!</td></tr>
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I know my challenge. Slice the zucchini without losing a finger. . . or a palm. <br />
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Next I have to decide what the heck is in all these fancy-pants zucchini strip dinners. Cheese? <b>Probably ungodly amounts of cheese. </b>Gouda no less. And maybe dill? Doesn't dill go with cheese? And yogurt? Is this turning into some kind of housewife tzatziki experiment?<br />
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I don't like any of the aforementioned ideas. Andy does have a disdain for yogurt, unfortunately. But maybe it's the fact that I can't get yogurt to taste like anything besides yogurt. "Mmm, beef with a side of stroganoff yogurt!" <b> But I'm committed. </b> I risked becoming palmless for 12 slices of zucchini which were happily roasting themselves in the 350 degree oven. <br />
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I began to do what every woman cooking dinner does when she doesn't know what to make: chop garlic and onion. That gives me three to five minutes to think of what to put in next. Oh, dice up left over chicken with a little magic sauce (Worcestershire sauce-<b>a delightful kick in the tongue</b>). I do a blind grab for some spices and pull out rosemary-sure! And next I pull out basil-classic. A little salt and wilt some spinach and magic! A filling for my zucchini strips.<br />
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Now I get to figure out the roll-up and stuffing part. No problem, right? <b>Did you see what I had to go through to get this far?</b><br />
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All I have to say is I truly believe deep deep down in my pampered chef heart, that all those zucchini-lovin-rolls, are <b>posers</b>. How do you get food to stay inside a slippery, slimy strip of squash. . .AND have it look good? I bet those pinterest pictures are cardboard cutouts. Hmpf.<br />
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So I tried. And tried. And tried.<br />
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And finally three zucchini rolls were birthed. . .<i>sort of.</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Side note, when you pick up a zucchini roll to eat. . .it all falls out the bottom. <b>#fail</b></span><br />
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To loosely quote Jillian Michaels on her Yoga Meltdown DVD, "You should be proud of yourself; you tried something new today."<br />
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Thanks, Jill. I know I can always count on you.<br />
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At least it tasted good. . .even in parts. <br />
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We complemented the mess with a good ol'fashioned salad to kind of round out the night.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Cheers to experiments and for making things way more difficult than they often need to be.</span><br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-70706420030880720372012-06-15T06:11:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:10:22.536-07:00Andy Standy'sMy husband is an artist. Have I mentioned this? His creativity often spills onto household objects (I have to hide things I don't want superglued with string). I love his usage of colors and textures and his ability to dream as he works boring mediums into forms of brilliant expression.<br />
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Here are his latest creative children birthed from cardboard and spray glue. . .we call them Andy Standy's. <br />
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Step back Hallmark.<br />
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Doesn't it just make you so excited for the Hlushak Family Business? <br />
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Happy Friday, friends!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-29269234246836515592012-06-14T06:13:00.003-07:002012-06-14T06:13:56.272-07:00Choose Thine OptionI have no idea how it happened. One day I was just doing the usual peruse of facebook statuses and the next thing you know I'm enrolled. Well, there were some phone calls, some prayers, some emotionally charged internal conversations, and a lot of day dreaming, but I did it. I signed up.<br />
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I love that this happened for several reasons.<br />
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1. It goes to show you (and me) that when you say, "I would never" you might actually find yourself in that exact situation. <b>Humility is a life-long lesson. </b><br />
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2. It challenges me to think about decisions through the larger lens of God and his purposes. I really had to push this decision past the fear of man/what will people think of me and into the realm of <b>'I trust God even if this totally flops.'</b><br />
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3. <b>Failure equals a collection of 10 really cute bags</b>. . .unless I give some away as presents. . .and then I have five really cute bags.<br />
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Here I am, at the threshold of my own little mini adventure, and it comes in dots, flowers, and denim (no sparkles. . .yet.) As of last week I have stepped into the tote-ally awesome world of thirty-one. Yeah, I said tote-ally.<br />
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All my southern friends are all getting out their fold and go organizers in shades of minty chip and aqua circles and putting another tick mark under "Friends I've Lost to Thirty-One." While out here in Colorado everyone is scratching their heads saying, "Is that Vera Bradley?" <br />
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A few things. First, southern friends, if you're going to keep score, consider changing the title to "Friends that can change my life through organizational bliss and get me free stuff." I understand that is a little long. You can call it FTCCMLTOBGMFS for short. Second, all my Colorado friends, consider what a thermal lunch tote could do for your romantic relationship; a little sparkling wine, some seasonal fruit, all tucked away in a chilly black perisian pop fabric cooler. Ooh la la!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ooh La La Luncheon. <br />
Pictured with a thirty-one thermal tote (wedding present from the wonderfully fun Michelle W.)<br />
and our lonely tomato plant.</td></tr>
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I'm not sure what this mini adventure will hold. My friends back home own half the thirty-one catalog and my friends out here are wondering where their nalgenes and chacos would go. (I mean these things in the most sincere way.)<br />
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But there is something so exciting about this to me. Maybe it's the fabric. I am a sucker for cute fabric.<br />
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And also for organizational miracles. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Organizing Utility Tote with my foam core roller posing as a swimmy prop.</td></tr>
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My reasons behind joining were simple: <b>connect with more women, share God's love, and hopefully learn skills and ideas to launch A Ruffled Heart into whatever creative dreams that lie ahead.</b><br />
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Thirty-one is named after Proverbs 31 about the wife of noble character, or the "virtuous woman." I love the verses that talk about how her trading is profitable, and how she bought a field and planted a vineyard. She also sold linen garments and supplied the merchants with sashes. I won't go into other details of her extraordinary life, but oh how I hope to do half of what she did. <br />
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I really appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit of this godly woman captured in this passage of scripture. The motives of her heart were to contribute to the needs of her household and support those around her through providing goods and services. <br />
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I'm not totally there yet. I still don't know how to make a sash, although I have been working on bunnies. Not too many merchants lining up to purchase them. Thirty-one does seem like a stepping stone into a world where I could potentially contribute something to the needs of the Hlushak household if ever God blessed us with a precious baby Hlu-Hlu, and that gets my heart going pitter patter.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"M" is for Mommy. . .let me rephrase. . .future Mommy. . .let me rephrase-I'm not pregnant.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Casual Cargo Tote-with home-made bunny waiting for her merchant.</td></tr>
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So the moral of the story is, never say never (unless you are referring to drugs), trust God always, and consider adopting a cute bag to bring organizational restoration to your household, bedroom, bathroom, laundry room, craft space, behind the couch, in your car, on top of the fridge, under the counter, and wherever else you can picture temporal bliss.<br />
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I don't want to get sales pitchy or ever loose a friendship (these did not make it in the top three reasons of participating in thirty-one) but I would like to invite you to browse the virtual thirty-one store on my site: <a href="http://www.mythirtyone.com/aruffledheart/">www.mythirtyone.com/aruffledheart/</a><br />
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I will say three things about this:<br />
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1. If you host a party-whether a catalog party, an online-visit my website party, or a cheese dip wine tasting shindig at a home party, you will be richly rewarded with fun textile treasures. And this comes from friend Lauren, not sales crazy-eyed Lauren (she actually doesn't exist).<br />
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2. Gift ideas abound and can always be personalized.<br />
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3. There are always monthly specials. That means a deal. And who doesn't love a deal.<br />
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<b>Cheers to our adventures, no matter how mini they may be!</b>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-777017561330709742012-06-08T05:49:00.001-07:002012-07-07T11:11:59.522-07:00Holla-shak Now. (The Name Game)Some of you may know this, but my husband is a man passionate about good design. One of our first conversations was about typography and why the world would be a better place if papyrus accidentally fell into a blender.<br />
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I remember craning my neck to watch him in the backseat explain how art is wrapped up in the stroke of a single letter and then began talking about kerning; at that point I thought we changed the subject to Winter Olympic sports. </div>
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The facts point to fate.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlemEDG9BZvwoEZYqmgC8j0s_PzdgR487-ihh_TgBag-YMuj2eMpGLf3oF_Cu4VLpdSqgIa9eWc4GD3xPvCrBXKt5u8G_ktihlcFrmbFlTbS3_S1aSKMmxhlZ1kXKvfICKKd7ofaNx8qc/s1600/name+lists.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlemEDG9BZvwoEZYqmgC8j0s_PzdgR487-ihh_TgBag-YMuj2eMpGLf3oF_Cu4VLpdSqgIa9eWc4GD3xPvCrBXKt5u8G_ktihlcFrmbFlTbS3_S1aSKMmxhlZ1kXKvfICKKd7ofaNx8qc/s400/name+lists.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home-made name generator.</td></tr>
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Andy + Mac + art + stories + God - papyrus = Graphic Design Bizz!</div>
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We've running a small creative operation for the past three years, but have remained nameless, and afraid to venture into the business world.</div>
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Well hold the horses, and fire up the oven. . .it's time to make some design pies up in this house.</div>
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The creative process of naming our business has been foul. Lots of "no ways" and "seriously?" and "that's seems boring" and "why do you want to use the word sparkle so much?" (I think you can assume that Andy was not the sparkle advocate.)</div>
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We finally decided to commit. </div>
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But I can't tell you yet. . .because we haven't registered the name with the state AND and I know you'll go buy the website URL and make us pay you millions for it-I know you and your get rich quick schemes.</div>
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Here are some floppers (feel free to purchase the URL for the following. . .riches not guaranteed):</div>
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Hlushak Creative (and how many of you can close your eyes and spell our name. . .<i>correctly</i>.)</div>
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The Lu-Shack Creative (but we didn't want people to think we had "poopy" design.)</div>
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Grizzly Collective (not a huge market for grizzly collectors)</div>
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The Gospel Collective (Andy said, "this is a joke, please don't write it down")</div>
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Campfire (John) Denver</div>
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Holla-Shak Creative (how come every time I say this name my London London, wait a second.)</div>
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Halla-lu Shak Creative (the holier version)</div>
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Campfire Coffee ("It's a good story" -Andy referring to the time he tried to make cowboy coffee on a backpacking trip out of a used sock and tin can. . .success anticipated but not achieved)</div>
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Savvy Venture (can't wait to have a spot of tea with you while we take a walk about)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GJaK-aaveAbmHo-A1MZuuPa8KKHvuqs0Ppyq4lFniv2jhZY2WqnWMZWWk4q3C1v1g0AtfYr6e433PqZNFy51RgpENPTUM7rElXA6DOr7G5A4T5Jjo2mOc0RLW9IZdf-34ZHjDw1dWEw/s1600/andy+and+lists.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GJaK-aaveAbmHo-A1MZuuPa8KKHvuqs0Ppyq4lFniv2jhZY2WqnWMZWWk4q3C1v1g0AtfYr6e433PqZNFy51RgpENPTUM7rElXA6DOr7G5A4T5Jjo2mOc0RLW9IZdf-34ZHjDw1dWEw/s640/andy+and+lists.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy changing the world through one font at a time.</td></tr>
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We are totally stoked to reveal the name. . .in fact, you may even want to check back as soon as three years from now. Joke. That's when we'll have a logo.</div>
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I know that the name might fall flat in a sea of people who don't like sparkles or really really liked the name Savvy Venture. But Andy are just all around excited to be on a pioneering adventure of creativity, story sharing, fonts, and great design.</div>
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We hope you'll be excited and maybe even let us design your business card. . .and lets face it, we all need a cool business card.</div>
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The expanse is wide, the possibilities endless, but there is nothing new under the sun.</div>
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Praise the Lord and here we come!</div>
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<br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-70802699780123714242012-06-03T16:08:00.001-07:002012-07-07T11:13:25.151-07:00A-DOOR-ableI know what you'll be doing next weekend. . .hitting up all those neighborhood garage sales looking for the golden (wooden) ticket. <br />
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About 2 years ago Andy and I were taking a walk in my Old Colorado City neighborhood and happened upon a miniature yard sale. The mom, with her wispy red hair coming loose from her bobby pins, darted around her display of coats and furniture pieces. She was selling things from her home to gather enough gas money to send her son off to college. <br />
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There, propped in the center of the lawn, perched against a table, was an old door, weathered with peeling steely hospital green paint. I was in love. "How much for the door?" <br />
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"Oh, I don't know, 5 bucks?"<br />
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"You sure?" (I mean, when you see a prize, you're willing to pay.)<br />
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"Yeah, sure; do you want this typewriter too?"<br />
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"Hmm, I'll take the door."<br />
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"Well, I throw in the typewriter too."<br />
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She must have had some ill relationship with this 1950's looking typewriter. Perhaps she wrote a love letter to a man who never wrote back. Maybe she painstakingly typed page after page of her mystery novel only to be rejected by several publishers. Or maybe it was junk she couldn't get the trashman to take, so I was the lucky recipient. Anyway, this is about the door, not an old sad typewriter.<br />
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While I continued to fall in love, Andy ran back to get my car to stuff the new door inside.<br />
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And inside it remained. Well, outside too, for the past two years. My prize ignored until one day Andy looked out on our modest apartment porch and said, "How 'bout we paint that door?" Adventure on.<br />
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We darted to Home Depot and scanned paint swatches. We landed on a fresh and steely purple, with a hue of gray. (I was never a purple girl-always pink, and then I ordered purple flowers for my wedding-sold.) We also picked up some sanding sponges and paint brushes (the economy kind-maybe not the best choice for more than one project.)<br />
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Andy and I had multiple visions of purpose for this door, but one thing we knew, it was going up on the wall. Maybe put fun coat hooks on it or picture frames?<br />
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<b>Step One</b></div>
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<b>Have your husband prop up the door so you can take a "before picture"</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HYhBonTklQ42BOBj-bpYllEB0-V72eWdcE66xJoLUyxlLbc1yyg8vqySWBZ3oy4j-1jxc9nqO9_QH3fXUMmT2GwPmZXTNXC8dTM1-b9hL-_ooz7Hc-wwbBIlDQIbzLGEbx9baehAlUA/s1600/IMG_3308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HYhBonTklQ42BOBj-bpYllEB0-V72eWdcE66xJoLUyxlLbc1yyg8vqySWBZ3oy4j-1jxc9nqO9_QH3fXUMmT2GwPmZXTNXC8dTM1-b9hL-_ooz7Hc-wwbBIlDQIbzLGEbx9baehAlUA/s640/IMG_3308.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Step 2</b></div>
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<b>Sand down all the chipping pieces. </b></div>
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<b>Step 3</b></div>
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<b>Gather the shavings and wipe down with a rage to get the historical dirt off.</b></div>
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<b>Step 4</b></div>
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<b>Time to paint! Another point for arid Colorado-the paint drys so fast! We just bought a $4 paint sample and it covered the entire front of the door.</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqsfHRK1KvpyuzVqRUqeFPdlU_YCrDdirG52x1ERplMYZwJkF2W6mBsGn4oVeOtFVZzXo4p4-XM6IyXeCabAtsnKxnMMdTloa01ePGucsUTmzdAp3ZZYu9bI3xE1JIny8b2MHim0fZ6jo/s1600/IMG_3337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqsfHRK1KvpyuzVqRUqeFPdlU_YCrDdirG52x1ERplMYZwJkF2W6mBsGn4oVeOtFVZzXo4p4-XM6IyXeCabAtsnKxnMMdTloa01ePGucsUTmzdAp3ZZYu9bI3xE1JIny8b2MHim0fZ6jo/s640/IMG_3337.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Step 5</b></div>
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<b>Hardware time. Andy put three hooks on the back to hang on the wall. </b></div>
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<b>And Viola!</b></div>
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<b>You too can create this for about ten bucks. . .</b></div>
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that is, if you can find a lady trying to earn some gas money for a college road trip. Fingers crossed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-6loUz4dp1rwF_dncVg4e5wEz-ixbOl4MW6viNyltWCDhm2cZhPCH_4eV-qdojUvggMSfEpsUSmTHxkepV1e_WhXFcvioSQqcDdxD5_Im9n50VoZjvDxNG3yyaK8z_6vQ5PeacESVPg/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-6loUz4dp1rwF_dncVg4e5wEz-ixbOl4MW6viNyltWCDhm2cZhPCH_4eV-qdojUvggMSfEpsUSmTHxkepV1e_WhXFcvioSQqcDdxD5_Im9n50VoZjvDxNG3yyaK8z_6vQ5PeacESVPg/s640/photo.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQJ3MJ0dmyG0pEwpzW2mUquRJGMLipAB945kHD118rsDA7E_foxzCBppe7X4U9JMvRjEqpUilhuWTuzhQpyY49-aRdHHrnPlehrtjWjpZfk3AE2idYEN6bO6QiCJyZiJgO41o_la-aXk/s1600/IMG_3356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQJ3MJ0dmyG0pEwpzW2mUquRJGMLipAB945kHD118rsDA7E_foxzCBppe7X4U9JMvRjEqpUilhuWTuzhQpyY49-aRdHHrnPlehrtjWjpZfk3AE2idYEN6bO6QiCJyZiJgO41o_la-aXk/s1600/IMG_3356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Next I painted some old frames I got at good will-the original project was to hang them from the stage at our wedding reception-obviously I have a great track record of buying things and not executing projects.</span> </div>
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But the frames still aren't up. Too much follow through right now. . .I need to relapse on at least part of this project or I just wouldn't feel like myself!</div>
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Best wishes to you on all your future garage sale endeavors. And always carry a five dollar bill around-you never know when you're prize will be sitting on the front lawn of someone's yard.</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-23552933102550788832012-05-23T21:43:00.001-07:002012-07-07T11:17:34.947-07:00Salted Caramel: Sooo 2012Today was Andy's birthday. Yaaay! I told the guy at Starbucks, but he did not have the same enthusiasm. . .nor did he give Andy a free birthday drink-that two strikes, Starbies, two strikes.<br />
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Birthday time may not be an indication of anything special to the coffee mermaid, but here in the Hlushak household, it's time for a kitchen experiment!! </div>
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Since Andy is a huge caramel fan (and requested it) I thought I'd make: Salted "Party in my Mouth" Caramel Cupcakes</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTF4v8PfT6JdeL6jgrGMFUuNXaCT0huJ5TS1Cwih-IuLgiA-SHwkFnx9JCYXkNaLh-NAP_Pi2JngplTd7G2BQ0MTN2WZnUew4fWLptTfXX6o1PhXdC_CCncrABJNYPqMVL6auphD127_A/s1600/chemexcupcake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTF4v8PfT6JdeL6jgrGMFUuNXaCT0huJ5TS1Cwih-IuLgiA-SHwkFnx9JCYXkNaLh-NAP_Pi2JngplTd7G2BQ0MTN2WZnUew4fWLptTfXX6o1PhXdC_CCncrABJNYPqMVL6auphD127_A/s640/chemexcupcake.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday Treats.</td></tr>
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Yeah, I guess "salted caramel" is all the rage, but if you're at Pink Berry, skip it. But if you're here, I hope you have a few stick of butter because this is worth staying up till midnight to make.</div>
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Let me save you the pain of googling "homemade caramel cupcake" because I have found for you the unhealthiest, most deliciously satisfying recipe with easy shmeasy to follow instructions including the simplest way to make caramel (are there several?? probably).</div>
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Go get the butter out of the fridge before you read on, because, Yes you will want this.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Easy Shmeasy Vanilla Cupcakes:</span></b></div>
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Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees (Why do we insist on pre-heating so early? I'm still searching for the stupid teaspoon in the drawer when the oven hits the correct temp. So, if I was a part of Team Cpt Planet, I'd be pre-heating around step 5).</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
1 cup butter (or 1 stick butter and 1/2 cup unsweatened applesauce-my one healthy contribution)</div>
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3/4 cup sugar</div>
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1 1/2 cup flour</div>
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1 tsp baking power</div>
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1 tsp baking soda (I made this step up on the fly-you may have a better handle on Baking Science 101)</div>
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2 eggs</div>
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1 tsp vanilla</div>
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3/4 cup milk</div>
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Step 1: Beat butter, sugar and vanilla until yummy.</div>
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Step 2: Add the applesauce if you're using it as an oil substitute. Watch your batter looked curdled. <b>Don't worry, all's well in the end</b>.</div>
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Step 3: Add eggs. Mix</div>
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<br /></div>
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Step 4: Spend the next 5 minutes searching for the teaspoon. Then, in a separate bowl mix flour, baking powder and soda. </div>
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Step 5: Combine and mix. (Now would be a good time to pre-heat the oven)</div>
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Step 6: Add milk and <b>watch the magic</b> happen. Mix well.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Step 7: Line cupcake tins with papers and fill with mixture over 3/4 full. Not good with fractions in-between 3/4 and whole. <b>So, feel free to express yo'self.</b></div>
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Step 8: Pop in oven. Check at 25 minutes. May need up to 30 minutes. Take out when, well, when it feels right in your heart.</div>
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Step 9: Let cool.</div>
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<div>
I am adventurous when it comes to the kitchen. <b>Recipes are suggestions</b> and I like to add twists that, in my mind, seem so wonderful I can't believe someone else hasn't tried it; or maybe it's because I'm not on Pinterest.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
For my first try I loosely followed some blog lady's recipe and added my own idea of vanilla pudding and yogurt. There were some rising issues. That, and the center was like <b>vanilla lava.</b> Ew. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhna0jbRqWgAeRhp67FocwP_Q-_VmNf9DvWbjKahfxo2N82h3CrIKhrkyUhOfv_4ZLxB613R6d7_N8QpVp_YxGDYh5vbHFfBiHUxTouz-u8PJW42HjA_i_N-6mmBXAd9T35n-yDAYJphMw/s1600/sad+cupcake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhna0jbRqWgAeRhp67FocwP_Q-_VmNf9DvWbjKahfxo2N82h3CrIKhrkyUhOfv_4ZLxB613R6d7_N8QpVp_YxGDYh5vbHFfBiHUxTouz-u8PJW42HjA_i_N-6mmBXAd9T35n-yDAYJphMw/s640/sad+cupcake.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is NOT a Salted "Party in my Mouth" Caramel Cupcake-please don't be confused.</td></tr>
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<div>
Like I said, there were some issues.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Round two went better and thus, an easy shmeasy vanilla cupcake recipe. Oh, by the way, it makes 12 huge (well, ok, normal) sized cupcakes. </div>
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<div>
Ready for the fun part!! Today I learned how to make caramel. All my stay at home mom friends are probably rolling their eyes and saying, <b>"Oh sweet Lauren, homemade caramel was sooo 2011." </b> In that case moms, I bet you've never put it in icing!! Or maybe you have. Hmm. Well, regardless, this icing is a winner and really easy.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Salted Caramel "This is so 2012" Icing</span></b></div>
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<div>
2 tbsp water</div>
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1/4 cup white sugar</div>
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1/4 cup whipping cream</div>
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<div>
Boil water and sugar on medium high. Stir sugar until dissolved and then let boil. Once boiling, let it continue until a nice amber brown (or in my case it started to <b>smell like burning</b>; I figure that's a good indication that it's time for the next step). Remove from heat and add whipping cream and stir. Stir until nice and caramelly. Let stand until cool (30 minutes or maybe 10 in the fridge).</div>
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<div>
Meanwhile, back at the kitchen aide,</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
1 cup of butter</div>
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2 cups powered sugar</div>
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1 tsp vanilla</div>
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1/8 tsp salt (don't get over zealous on the salt, this is dessert after all)</div>
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Whip butter into a frenzy-5 minutes on high. Add vanilla and whip some more.</div>
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Slowly add powdered sugar (note: leaving whisk on high setting will cause <b>Christmas all over your counter</b>. . .choose speed settings wisely). When caramel sauce is cool, add slowly to icing and mix. If caramel is not cool, it will melt the butter. First hand experience, people.</div>
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When all is said and done, ice away and lick the bowl into oblivion. It's a good good night.</div>
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Birthday cupcake never tasted so good.</div>
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Happy Birthday, Andy!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRh4k6heXUeUuiC8vvKjggzw2AJMryvnhyphenhyphenj5lBts33mcLqA9EGS7u8A2wZ7XzjkY8ZvA-yEqqlyb9RkA8NkBR9ZAALucLiOtrIyTdE9efKSA7BiL4fKBOKya-XamJY0nw2-TnVJ7KbvM/s1600/cupcakejoy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRh4k6heXUeUuiC8vvKjggzw2AJMryvnhyphenhyphenj5lBts33mcLqA9EGS7u8A2wZ7XzjkY8ZvA-yEqqlyb9RkA8NkBR9ZAALucLiOtrIyTdE9efKSA7BiL4fKBOKya-XamJY0nw2-TnVJ7KbvM/s640/cupcakejoy.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-64279600716257643802012-04-27T08:59:00.002-07:002012-07-07T11:19:21.352-07:00Crashing and Burning<div style="text-align: center;">
Crash and Burn.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Almost.</div>
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<br /></div>
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[God put <b>three </b>incredible women in my path yesterday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to give me the truth I needed at just the right time.]</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/543551_10150844131988653_767333652_11612867_892066409_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/543551_10150844131988653_767333652_11612867_892066409_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(c) Jeanne Miller Photography</td></tr>
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As I entered my work's parking lot yesterday morning it was like turning into a wall; emotionally broken in pieces conveniently seconds before I need to walk into the office. It came on immediately with no warning. It was like one of those mid-west tornadoes that comes before you can dive into hiding.<br />
<br />
No sirens. No warning. No hiding for me.<br />
<br />
I walk into the office and there is <b>Margo</b>-who loves Jesus-greeting me like she does everyday, with a warm smile and bright eyes. <br />
<br />
'Margo, somethings wrong. I am still so sore all over my chest and I feel so overwhelmed. There's pressure and stress that I feel is working it's way throughout my body and I am now cracked and breaking.'<br />
<br />
Margo took me on a walk as I blotted my tears mixed with mascara away from my eyes with a crumbled tissue. Margo comforted me with words that soothed the aching parts of my heart. She affirmed me and gave credit to my emotional exhaustion. As we talked I begin to realize how much my identity is still tied so tightly to what I do. The last thing I want is to disappoint someone, or not do enough, or fail, or be lazy.<br />
<br />
So here I am, three months after open heart surgery and I am looking to my left and to my right saying, "I must be like <i>them</i>." What 29 year old childless woman is not working full-time? Why can't I do more? Why should I have excuses? <br />
<br />
I feel like a wimp; like I'm milking this surgery thing. The American girl culture keeps singing it's deceptive song, telling me to pull my skirt up, and that the skirt better be cute and wrinkle free; and that I need to earn the money to make my modest dreams come true; and to purchase my own carpet shampooer so I can steam clean whenever I feel like it.<br />
<br />
Next I went to the funeral of a very lovely, godly woman, who, at 51, was finally taken from this earth after a six year battle with cancer. At her funeral hundreds of wet eyes gathered to celebrate this woman who touched their lives. I had known her for less than a year, but she had become a prayer warrior for me as I anxiously approached surgery. One Sunday, after a church service and after my surgery, she grabbed my hand and said, "Don't go too fast too soon. If you need someone to tell you to stop and say 'no,' just give me a call."<br />
<br />
Though <b>Gloria </b>is no longer available for a phone call, it was her voice ringing loud and clear yesterday-'Stop, Lauren, it's ok to say no. It's ok to rest.' <br />
<br />
Gloria is now with Jesus, but he was still using her to minister to my soul. In God's sovereignty and perfect time he used Gloria's celebration service to remind me of what I needed to hear: It's time to slow down.<br />
<br />
After the funeral I had my final encounter with <b>Kristen</b>, New City Church's pastor's wife (and so much more), who embraced me as I confessed my emotional frailty. We talked in that church about the hardships of life. From the lips of this godly woman came words of affirmation and support. And she commented, "Maybe it's like you're trying to trust God, but your still holding on." Holding on to that proverbial rope of my life.<br />
<br />
I get scared to trust God completely. Especially with all the obstacles that combat the truth of his love, wisdom, and power. <br />
<br />
I fear failing.<br />
I fear disappointing.<br />
I fear being lazy.<br />
I fear not having enough money.<br />
I fear I'm not doing enough.<br />
I fear that I will lose the things I desire to keep.<br />
I fear losing the dreams that I have.<br />
<br />
It's time for it all to melt away in the light of the face of Christ.<br />
<br />
It's time to start humming that old Baptist hymn:<br />
"Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face.<br />
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,<br />
in the light of his glory and grace."<br />
<br />
It's time to admit I'm frail. It's time to admit I can't.<br />
<br />
It's time to return to my first love. It's time to look in the face of Jesus.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-62193858641532195432012-04-23T20:49:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:20:43.528-07:00Happy Earth Day!What did you do for Earth Day?<br />
<br />
(By the way, Earth Day was Sunday.)<br />
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Me? Well, first I cleaned out my starbies travel mug because I knew good ol Starbucks would be giving away free beverages for Earth Day to their earth conscious, container-toting latte drinkers. <br />
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<div>
Andy and I pulled into the drive-thru and I nearly crawled over him to share my enthusiasm for free earth day drinks to the voice inside the speaker-box.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrP2ce0QcL0P6qO7RCbJTEuCc_guj4V_bbQOVQsjWLwJxOJpf1WqR6k_GCT28fXbd82RaCDEjQUqyneaGVX6QJ8v0730g9l9vipUJfNwQyN2n_pv0Qq5S9i1JO16AEvbt3QqfjSpAF-ck/s1600/IMG_0322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrP2ce0QcL0P6qO7RCbJTEuCc_guj4V_bbQOVQsjWLwJxOJpf1WqR6k_GCT28fXbd82RaCDEjQUqyneaGVX6QJ8v0730g9l9vipUJfNwQyN2n_pv0Qq5S9i1JO16AEvbt3QqfjSpAF-ck/s400/IMG_0322.JPG" width="300" /></a><br />
"Good morning, welcome to Starbucks, what can I get for you today?"<br />
<br />
"WE BROUGHT OUR MUGS!" I yelled, holding out my BPA-laced plastic mug as if the barista was standing outside our car.<br />
<br />
"Um, ok, what can I get for you to drink?"<br />
<br />
"Free drinks! For Earth Day! Happy Earth Day!!" <br />
<br />
I feel like streamers should be shooting out of the menu encasement and a parade with elephants should be starting at any moment.<br />
<br />
"Sorry, what?"<br />
<br />
Uh oh. Hold the elephants. I knew something was up when the drive-thru line was only two cars long. <br />
<br />
"Um, Earth day?!! We are being mother-nature conscious citizens of the United States of America and we are here to collect our reward."<br />
<br />
"Oh, we're not doing that this year."<br />
<br />
Make a deflated balloon sound here. And that, my friends, was the sound my heart made when I discovered Starbucks kicked me and my travel mug to the paying curb.<br />
<br />
Yeah, we still got our drinks.<br />
<br />
$4.50 later, we're on our way to church as the chemicals from my plastic mug slowly seep into my tea.<br />
<br />
I'm willing to admit I'm not the most environmentally conscientious person on this planet. I would not make the Captain Planet squad. Although, if I did, I'd be fire. . .no. . .water. . . no. . .heart. I guess I don't have to make that decision; I missed tryouts in 1990.<br />
<br />
The other day I ventured into "Natural Grocers" and did not bring in a reusable shopping bag. My bad. As the hungarian lady continued to ring up my lara bars and speak to me about saving gas by only shopping in her store and avoiding all other non-local irresponsible profit driven grocery establishments (maybe a slight embellishment), I realized I was about to have a Portlandia moment.<br />
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Luckily my quick thinking husband grabbed a box and packed up my salad dressings and non-homogenized milk (whatever that means). Good thing watermelons weren't three for one!<br />
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All this aside, I am so thankful for God and his creation. To be all the way out in Aurora last week and see majestic snow covered stately Pikes Peak 95 miles away just steals my breath away momentarily as I consider the grandeur of God.<br />
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Maybe I'll start calling it "Grateful Earth Day!" reminding me of the greatness of God, his creativity, and kindness to give us such beauty.<br />
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<br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-47357960290225772612012-04-16T05:51:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:22:09.243-07:00Love Shines Through a Little GlueWe all have ruffled hearts.<br />
<br />
They come in all shapes and sizes with variations of curls and swirls due to the turbulent joys and beautiful sorrows of life. We all have our own sufferings and we are on the battle field daily. But each ripple in our heart is a testimony of God's lace trimmed grace weaving itself into indescribable patterns that we ourselves could never fashion.<br />
<br />
Having community in my ruffled-heart journey gave me unexpected joy in one of the toughest times of my life.<br />
<br />
After surgery there was a lot of pain. There was the physical pain of a healing sternum, and muscles and nerves mending themselves together again. There were creaky bones and ribs out of place. Suture wounds were healing and a simple deep breath was exercise.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three or four days post-op.</td></tr>
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There was also emotional pain. I was at the mercy of frailness. I was experiencing the limitations of humanity. My brain was foggy from strong pain meds, yet I grew tired of movies and my recliner. <br />
<br />
I had the worst birthday ever. Part self-inflicted, part pressure of having a perfect day, 13 days after surgery doesn't lend oneself to be in a festive party mood. Andy took my mom and I to a local burger joint poised in an old garage. I never took my coat off. I poked around at my hamburger. I looked longingly into the distance feeling a little sorry for myself. That was a low day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwetdQgnuNXlyPO8OPXBH1eQa7W_km-9YSSs9C6ctM_WxCFTCsUJc_dzXl0jUXFGArqb1ir4R2iLBb6OPyWNZgKoieuMrThOKblXKkuvwk24QxNeSLFufSEFErNwugC53kNOJAIQ0vzQ/s1600/FxCam_1326752042242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwetdQgnuNXlyPO8OPXBH1eQa7W_km-9YSSs9C6ctM_WxCFTCsUJc_dzXl0jUXFGArqb1ir4R2iLBb6OPyWNZgKoieuMrThOKblXKkuvwk24QxNeSLFufSEFErNwugC53kNOJAIQ0vzQ/s640/FxCam_1326752042242.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Despite my uncanny ability to throw a good pity party, special moments of emotional triumph often came to my door or in the mail. Community. The precious gift of community. Delicious meals, where love was a key ingredient, were brought to our home almost daily. The post man often delivered sweet surprises from my friends and family. Cookies, flowers, cards with words that fed my soul like chocolate cake appeared at just the right time. We even got champagne on Valentine's Day from one of Andy's coworkers.<br />
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Among some of the gifts were created versions of "A Ruffled Heart" by some of my friends. These pieces of love blessed me in a unique way. My friends took a moment to physically create a ruffled heart, communicating my inward struggle in an outward, and lovely way. They took my suffering and made visual poetry. I am forever grateful for these precious pieces of grace and wanted to share them with you.<br />
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A Ruffled Heart painted, by my friend Juli, from New City Church. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzy87MUlFKqvZORVuGuTM_7ANRZM3fxcGiZuXPV6BW_0D2NyOHL5KHHtqskF4-0gWZpTZLwxiA_srmc0-6ydK_ZazcgZhCaeB26sqiqEYRLK12N77emHefnaTHRt9cwOLR_tNOqDob8c4/s1600/IMG_0276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzy87MUlFKqvZORVuGuTM_7ANRZM3fxcGiZuXPV6BW_0D2NyOHL5KHHtqskF4-0gWZpTZLwxiA_srmc0-6ydK_ZazcgZhCaeB26sqiqEYRLK12N77emHefnaTHRt9cwOLR_tNOqDob8c4/s640/IMG_0276.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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My best friend, Nicki, sent me A Ruffled Heart for my birthday.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWt9LUcGamBSfuicIw0vv4nxNO2uqkTqPfi-0nzAvz2b6-Pn1rmkdKOhR_cYbHPMkMAEwRuAfikVaT4NQAeBcGkd-aUwSnIrtqfiFE7FUZXd6FcQCtbOEmJ8kUF_N1ryCCdyssCK1aRGA/s1600/IMG_0266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWt9LUcGamBSfuicIw0vv4nxNO2uqkTqPfi-0nzAvz2b6-Pn1rmkdKOhR_cYbHPMkMAEwRuAfikVaT4NQAeBcGkd-aUwSnIrtqfiFE7FUZXd6FcQCtbOEmJ8kUF_N1ryCCdyssCK1aRGA/s640/IMG_0266.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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A Ruffled Heart card with sweet Scripture from my friend Cassie.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDYOzzkU7YCk9KEHMkfqg1B8AKce18nO56RkzS3ityXy1Jp1xkmragPVbQwGWxprdsr1b7xe-eSemLEpHVG2vngrT2hhW5fr3FQAErqR2HSeMYQq5UKNUkAPwwltW-3xL3LI9n1TQwjU/s1600/IMG_0274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDYOzzkU7YCk9KEHMkfqg1B8AKce18nO56RkzS3ityXy1Jp1xkmragPVbQwGWxprdsr1b7xe-eSemLEpHVG2vngrT2hhW5fr3FQAErqR2HSeMYQq5UKNUkAPwwltW-3xL3LI9n1TQwjU/s640/IMG_0274.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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My friend Christina and Stacey created A Ruffled Heart sternal pillow complete with a pocket for Scripture verse cards. :) (Pictured with Big Teddy, of course.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqySls7W-m0m-3JkI2JfLn2bB1IWAw70n7jeQxTw03f5YQ-PAoyluQbhB77C9G_kXlUms15b9mjuA4kC6lDWBg9Ms3RYnIvfniASqN5q7Hp2w_AZ_oZYeTW0WBYPVOHtW7A4d9po452E/s1600/IMG_0269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqySls7W-m0m-3JkI2JfLn2bB1IWAw70n7jeQxTw03f5YQ-PAoyluQbhB77C9G_kXlUms15b9mjuA4kC6lDWBg9Ms3RYnIvfniASqN5q7Hp2w_AZ_oZYeTW0WBYPVOHtW7A4d9po452E/s640/IMG_0269.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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My friend, Melissa, made A Ruffled Heart headband for me, which I love!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1A_dgbLGLzG4jVHtrK9glXeNiUyZGc3q_G375BySZNavBSMDwtoH6-69J4Os8MR6FjK9BZz2q8Tc3dalK4fZznlGVCwTrWrQh9KayorVYMDmykeSBYBr127EL8_KhJYffKk0jORZqU3o/s1600/IMG_0281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1A_dgbLGLzG4jVHtrK9glXeNiUyZGc3q_G375BySZNavBSMDwtoH6-69J4Os8MR6FjK9BZz2q8Tc3dalK4fZznlGVCwTrWrQh9KayorVYMDmykeSBYBr127EL8_KhJYffKk0jORZqU3o/s640/IMG_0281.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Thank you, my generous, kind, thoughtful prayer warriors. Thank you for being a part of this ruffled heart.<br />
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The journey continues for all of us. May we continue to press on toward each other, knowing that together, we're part of the healing, the freedoms, the beauty, the kindness, the grace that flows from the endless streams of Jesus.<br />
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<span id="goog_1022194343"></span><span id="goog_1022194344"></span>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-53445896198710950892012-04-12T06:36:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:22:36.654-07:00Just another day at the Dentist<div style="text-align: center;">
"You're not perfect, <b>and neither are your teeth</b>."<br />
-Husband</div>
<br />
Ah, the dentist. It all started a year ago. Andy visited the dentist and came home with a "C" in dental care: two cavities. "Tisk tisk," I said with a prideful beam. "I can't remember the last time <i>I</i> had a cavity. Maybe you should brush more," I proclaimed as I pushed my pointer finger into his chest.<br />
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After Andy's dentist visit I thought maybe I should get a cleaning. After all there were deals to be found on Groupon, so as soon as one popped up, I clicked, "Buy," and was off to get a makeover for my teeth.<br />
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I don't mind the dentist. I don't have irrational fears about the little poker stabbing me, or that the dentist will hit on me (though it's been known to happen. . .ok only once, and my few dentist dates actually led to Andy and I dating. When Andy heard there was competition, it was time to step it up. Give it up for dental hygiene!) <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45kf_LxVE1dKIaA2QLSQdtwAoAeVWleFjBkPjdgheDLP1X9kzNFdHt2FZsEZMXYBAqMY5FJ7Rzaj3-fgsgHE7nByC6hQdrqERPxjoG9xNU6_GEszLcfjzfb9VbrYdDFc76SSVsDvPs1A/s1600/100_5324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45kf_LxVE1dKIaA2QLSQdtwAoAeVWleFjBkPjdgheDLP1X9kzNFdHt2FZsEZMXYBAqMY5FJ7Rzaj3-fgsgHE7nByC6hQdrqERPxjoG9xNU6_GEszLcfjzfb9VbrYdDFc76SSVsDvPs1A/s640/100_5324.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The summer Andy and I met. . .and then eventually starting dating.</td></tr>
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I actually associate the dentist with Sonic the Hedgehog (not first dates), as that was the only video game exposure I had as a child inside the office of my pediatric dentist. So as I get my teeth clean I often hear the sound of a blue spiky creature collecting gold rings. Bling Bling Bling.<br />
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Fate came a knockin' that spring afternoon a year ago. I was lowered back in the plush plastic chair and obediently opened and swished and spit. Then the beloved x-rays came back. I was about to get my dental report card. I must say, I've been known to have all A's. But it had been three years. Do teeth get rusty?<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsRVYw3k926joV6LeJs3_MWvBbhODiAJ0dZa92iZrFJneAvmegYRFTGULcW1hBFm09f0mGdnuQMwhwoQzFbNl1UB31otrUZbatinv-hfsFAerltwtL4pijvr27BEAGQ9ZyJX_1ZLIZQ0/s1600/tooth+decay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsRVYw3k926joV6LeJs3_MWvBbhODiAJ0dZa92iZrFJneAvmegYRFTGULcW1hBFm09f0mGdnuQMwhwoQzFbNl1UB31otrUZbatinv-hfsFAerltwtL4pijvr27BEAGQ9ZyJX_1ZLIZQ0/s400/tooth+decay.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ain't no party like a tooth-decay party.<br />
Yeah, I drew this on paint.<br />
Yeah, paint still exists.</td></tr>
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Mine must have been because the dentist kept spitting out numbers and abbreviations. Surfaces were being penetrated by plaque monsters and decay was having a party with my molars. The damage? Six. Six cavities. If Andy got a "C" with two, then I was looking at failure for sure. <br />
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The true humility came when I left the office. I had to report back to the homestead. Sheepishly I recounted the toothy event and pulled out the folded piece of paper outlining the cost of the treatment. Thankfully I'm married to a gracious, easy going man. I'm sure he wanted to laugh and poke me in the chest with the words, "Looks like someone should brush their teeth more." But there was just sympathy for the upcoming dental adventure.<br />
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It's been a slow process. Two filled. One crown. I mean, do you really want to know all this?<br />
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I'm feeling especially transparent because I'm typing this as I wait in the dental office. I was here for more fillings, but, of course, there was an issue with insurance. So my consolation prize while I wait for the insurance piece to figure itself out is a cleaning. Yaay. <br />
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I'm thankful I have teeth. I just got to figure out how to shield them from the terrors of this world. Maybe I should wear my plastic retainer more. <br />
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Too many Easter macaroons.<br />
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At least I got a goodie bag.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Happy Flossing.</b>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img4.realsimple.com/images/0903/dental-floss_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img4.realsimple.com/images/0903/dental-floss_300.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(alana cavanaugh)</td></tr>
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</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-52610208030939779292012-04-07T09:02:00.001-07:002012-07-07T11:23:39.948-07:00Easter Treat: Hlushak MacsHave ever confessed to you my deep love for coconut? It's delicious. I mean, when I think about the shredded bits of wonder my salivary glands start streaming like a breached dam. <br />
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It used to be a chore to eat. I'd take a bite of cookie with sneaky little coconut bits hiding behind a chocolate chip. Ten minutes later, Surprise! I'm still gnawing on slivers that won't dissolve.<br />
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But things are different now. . .maybe it all began in 2008 when I traveled across the seven seas over Russian tundras, and past Hello Kitty, to find the coconut.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfRu3h9a1L-CTFQZDGYO-_Pw-l347LDfsKK3J_td4ddvCk5JlZrWzdJt8g92BHNwmS7yW7nEmOfCpW9SgDBUwqdwoTyo_B5Ack07SgarDvB1nyiUJNinBTcWcnYVXoW_1ONoJSS6F4IM/s1600/IMG_1331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfRu3h9a1L-CTFQZDGYO-_Pw-l347LDfsKK3J_td4ddvCk5JlZrWzdJt8g92BHNwmS7yW7nEmOfCpW9SgDBUwqdwoTyo_B5Ack07SgarDvB1nyiUJNinBTcWcnYVXoW_1ONoJSS6F4IM/s640/IMG_1331.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Despite popular belief, I am not making out with the coconut.</td></tr>
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My Bapak ("dad" in the background), climbed a tree with a machete in mouth and cut down a real live coconut for me. Tucked deep within the shell was water (not milk people, coconuts are not from the bovine familia), and I feasted for a moment.<br />
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I tried to convince Andy to let me swing by Indonesia on grocery shopping day to ensure the freshest coconut. Apparently coconut is not as important to him because he said no.<br />
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Now I just buy Bob Red Mill's bag of unsweetened shredded coconut and go cocoNUTS! I sneak it in a lot of things: homemade granola, oatmeal, curry, cookies, my bed. I have used it to top cupcakes and my toast; I even have homemade deodorant made from coconut oil (thanks, Suz!). <br />
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Well, last night Andy and I spent Good Friday with some friends. Dessert was on the menu and after I found out I was joining fellow coconut fans, I decided I wanted to try to make Macaroons, which, I discovered that night, are traditional Easter and Passover treats. (I guess because they're kosher-woo!)<br />
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FOUR Ingredients people. This could go in a man's cookbook.<br />
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<b>Hlushak (Easter) Macs</b><br />
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2 egg whites<br />
1/4 tsp (kosher) salt<br />
1/2 cup honey<br />
<b>1-2 cups unsweetened (finely) shredded coconut</b><br />
Optional: semi sweet chocolate chips, melted for dipping<br />
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Preheat oven to 325. Open window to vent burning smell that's emitted from oven because last nights dinner had a few spills.<br />
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Beat egg whites and salt until almost stiff.<br />
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Add honey. Note-I added 1/2 cup of honey and my macaroons were pretty sweet. I may reduce this measurement for future macaroons.<br />
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Beat until stiff peaks form. <br />
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Fold in coconut. I used about 1.5 cups until the texture was thick enough to stand in ball form. You can use more or less coconut-whatever is looking appropriate for that moment in time.<br />
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I hope you registered for that kitchen aid.<br />
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Line baking sheet with parchment paper. VERY IMPORTANT, unless you want to eat your macaroons straight off the baking pan, it is highly recommended to line the baking sheet to prevent sticking.<br />
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Scoop tablespoon "blobs" out and place on parchment paper.<br />
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Bake for 15 minutes, until golden brown.<br />
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Let cool and then gently peel off baking sheet. Dip in chocolate.<br />
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YUM! I had two for breakfast this morning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMCjGIxuoodTR1wlXJvqSW0kyke8gMKvc3PitKVnPiTxwbTC2UU5SQSuDbi317JNogHho-bIVSE4Vi53Qi8Z-zlhZKC9BzX3COs4UPISTR0AMW7fTqc2suap_SuX8xEfNtFWqTgI18IM/s1600/IMG_3372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMCjGIxuoodTR1wlXJvqSW0kyke8gMKvc3PitKVnPiTxwbTC2UU5SQSuDbi317JNogHho-bIVSE4Vi53Qi8Z-zlhZKC9BzX3COs4UPISTR0AMW7fTqc2suap_SuX8xEfNtFWqTgI18IM/s640/IMG_3372.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hlushak (Easter) Macs.</td></tr>
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There you have it. A simple, gluten-free, healthier dessert (kosher too), that takes about 25 minutes to make. Apparently the cleaning part takes about 12 hours because the dishes are still dirty this morning.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7bUxLn9fbvV3Ga0YtjMmEN0A6RAbKTAJSFFtX8r6LXZ8hgZ57W3jtrx96nekipwUg3d4POcjepVR4pzQBi6fmNUMd9Tr5_umqGfK2f26YJ_RmCRazRfO_IMOuBGhcbH90Sta6tRRLNSk/s1600/IMG_3378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7bUxLn9fbvV3Ga0YtjMmEN0A6RAbKTAJSFFtX8r6LXZ8hgZ57W3jtrx96nekipwUg3d4POcjepVR4pzQBi6fmNUMd9Tr5_umqGfK2f26YJ_RmCRazRfO_IMOuBGhcbH90Sta6tRRLNSk/s640/IMG_3378.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Happy Easter!</div>
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<b>"Why do you look for the living among the dead?"</b></div>
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Luke 24:5b</div>
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<br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4180635949813779110.post-28297414365154821072012-04-06T07:07:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:24:35.664-07:00Good Friday<div style="text-align: center;">
Today is Good Friday. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6n9YMCyeAEjxqhEC-V2LPsFZ3tPyaRhHKCQznERvuk-VCghOohk2c7dM2XyfjT7ST5dzZ5_YJNnXANm9LDm0JTvHcIxWlAHMz5ayTTmHk4jcbdf_D9rgUjlWgdCK4x-BHEaazjtAsZQs/s1600/GF_Jesus_Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6n9YMCyeAEjxqhEC-V2LPsFZ3tPyaRhHKCQznERvuk-VCghOohk2c7dM2XyfjT7ST5dzZ5_YJNnXANm9LDm0JTvHcIxWlAHMz5ayTTmHk4jcbdf_D9rgUjlWgdCK4x-BHEaazjtAsZQs/s640/GF_Jesus_Web.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(c) Hlushak Creative</td></tr>
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Today we remember Jesus, the cross, and why he gave his life for us.<br />
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The reality of my own depravity ironically gets lost in a sea of me. I easily forget the sheer darkness that covered me, the juxtaposition of wonderful impossibility that separated me from God. Forgetting that I, in and of myself, have no hope of detachment from my own perversion. I am a slave to sin, a slave bound to following every corrupt inkling, every irrational fear, always fighting for my own gain, unable to ever part from failure.<br />
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Today is a day to remember what the cross really means; what Jesus endured to enable us to have relationship with him.<br />
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<b>Today is the Great Exchange.</b></div>
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"God did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all."</div>
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<b>My life for His.</b></div>
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Each day we will be distracted, and often we return to being unaware of what Jesus did for us. I encourage you, my friends, to pursue Jesus today. That we all might be humbled by his love and obedience. That we might remember why he died. That gratitude would well up in our hearts and spill into our lives.<br />
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Last year Andy and I started a tradition we hope to carry on as long as we have breath. On Good Friday we set aside time in the evening with a couple from our community. Together we reflect on the cross. We worship. We pray. We seek God. We thank Him. Together we remember. We take communion. We read Scripture. We listen. We rejoice.<br />
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It's simple. It's beautiful. It's humbling.<br />
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"Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pieced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed."<br />
Isaiah 53:4-5<br />
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You can make Good Friday a time repentance and remembrance; a place to direct your eyes on Jesus, taking your family or friends into a place of humble reflection.<br />
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We reflect on Good Friday, looking ahead to Easter Sunday, because</div>
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<b>Jesus. . .is. . .Risen. We are forgiven.</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(c) Hlushak Creative</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04455300161957088256noreply@blogger.com0