When the world was young

There was a time when the world was new.  I am astonished and frightened at how easily time seems to slip through the cracks in my fingers, without me even realizing that a day has passed.  Life seems like nothing more than a memory and memories are so intangible. I am enveloped in a daydream, sleepwalking through life, neither awake or sleeping.  What happens to time after it passes? I cling to the few tangible representations of those times, as if they will prevent my ever-degrading memories from fading to death. The tattoos cut into my skin seem strange, seeing as their inscription is now only a fading memory in my failing mind.  Why is there so much comfort in retrospection, even though what has passed will never be grasped again?





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The saga of the Pielette

Yesterday I spent the day with my dear friend Lindsey Collins. She is one of the very few people who shares in my affinity for cooking AND photography. She is a much better baker than I, (and really a much better cook as well) so she did the bulk of everything, and I made the red sauce below. Don't laugh though, it was only the second sauce I have ever made, and the very first time I had EVER cooked with wine. That sauce was unbelievable. 

The apple pie was originally called a crustada, but I found that a rather gross name, so after much debate, and several rejected names (crustini was possibly the grossest to me) I decided pielette was the best. It is a pie without a pie pan so I found it fitting. I also just realized that pienini works as well.

For dinner, we decided to have a spicy rubbed grilled chicken, orzo pasta, and roasted potatoes. YUM.

Anyways, here are some photos, since it was just an overall night of indulgence for me.

Add a little Vietnamese Cinnamon

(I think I am going to try and make some chicken with this stuff that you could cook with this)

Often, I fear, I am ruled by pragmatism rather than the Holy Spirit.

I'm a chef!

Tonight I learned that when the recipe calls for 2 medium onions, use half of one.

For my family, for dinner I made some incredible mac and cheese, and Savory/spicy chicken drumsticks.

Both recipes are from the Pioneer Woman blog (I love her).

The Spread

My amazing little brother helped out, then got bored and left.

The Mac and Cheese in all it's goodness

(I ended up using some cheddar, mozzarella, muenster, colby,

and then some more mozzarella.

The top is sprinkled with goat cheesy goodness.)

The chicken

(I put it under the broiler for the last few minutes

of cooking so that it would get nice and crisp and caramelly)

Add a little buttered broccoli and you have the final product

(and yes, we eat off of paper plates. We are ultra classy.)

I think

I think it was Mother Theresa who made popular the idea that God does not give us more than we can handle, but I am beginning to think that He does. He allows us to come to the very brink of despair and then holds our hands as we plummet to our deaths. We die to ourselves and our notions and then, once we are past ourselves and have experienced more than we could ever have handled on our own, He picks up the pieces and forms them into a being more beautiful and like Himself than the broken one from before. (Of course, we see our new selves and believe that we had something to do with it, forgetting that five minutes ago we were desperate and plummeting to our deaths, and the cycle of despair continues.)

I think though, that if God did not sometimes give us more than we could handle, we would be fully convinced in our own minds that we are capable of living without Him.

.wrecked by the gospel.

My name is Mara and

I have a sugar addiction. I hate to bake, and I am a horrible baker, but if it contains sugar and goes well with a cold glass of milk, I cannot resist. In case you don't believe me, let me lay it out for you. This morning I ate a cookie at breakfast time. (It wasn't for breakfast; it actually came AFTER breakfast). I then proceeded, in between breakfast and "lunch" to eat two brownies. The fact that I can't remember what I actually ate for lunch leads me to believe that I counted the bowl of Triscuits as an adequate meal. In the afternoon I steered clear of the kitchen and thus managed to avoid the tantalizing call of the baked goods, but then right around dinner I once again succumbed to the siren call and indulged in a cookie as the appetizer to my salad. I consumed the proper amount of calories, but my poor tummy is bawling for some veggies. This lack of busyness is leading me to inordinate amounts of sugar consumption. (insert a conversation about this form of consume and how it is not what it naturally seems like it should be, here).

On the docket for tomorrow: Gym at 8, grocery shopping: commissary style, ???

The Pool

Today we went to the pool for the first day of swimming. Both of the indoor pools that we would typically frequent were closed for rennovation or training of some sort, so we decided on the Officer's Club pool. It was not lap swim hours, so we had to share the pool, but it turns out that the lifeguard at the pool is someone we went to high school with. She gave us some tips and taught Jessica how to dive. Through all of this, I discovered something very interesting: I am afraid to dive. I can jump from the high dive, and cannonball until the sun goes down, but there is something about putting my head into the water first that unnerves me. I even tried a level 1 sitting dive, and it ended in a belly flop.

After the pool we ventured to the sporting goods store so I could pick up a new pair of goggles, and was once again reminded that I KNOW NOTHING about swimming. I had to call a friend to even figure out what type of goggles to buy. It is definitely a pride blocker to recognize how inept I am at so many things.

The saga of the gym snobs

One of my goals for the summer, well really my main goal for the summer, is to get back to the gym and beat my body back into submission. It is never as violent as it sounds, because I am actually quite the ninny, but I have a workout buddy to help me repress the wuss in me and do that last 15 minutes of cardio.

This morning was my first morning back at the gym, and much to my elation (sike) the base gym that we frequent was packed. Typically there is a light dusting of Marine wives, trying to lose the thirty pounds they gained while their husbands were on deployment so they can feel confident for the homecoming. This morning, however, every cardio machine was in use (probably around 30 machines), the studio room had two consecutive classes going, and there was a line at pretty much every weight machine. The typical light dusting of Marine wives was now a thick layer of seniors, wives, and Marines alike. Intimidating for a first day back at the gym? Incredibly.

My workout buddy had just started a new abs and butt routine that she attested was an excellent way to "get cut." I'm not so much worried about that as I am about losing the sophomore 70 I gained this year, but she is definitely on the path to "getting cut." She was a little afraid that butt workout would be kinda awkward to do in the main gym, so we waited patiently for the senior citizens spinning class to end so that we could use the studio. We walked in at the end of their workout and were met with icy glares from every bifocaled pair of eyes in the room. This is when I knew that we had encountered the gym snobs. The instructor scolded us with her eyes and muttered in an angry tone that the class would be over in a few minutes. We took our mats and scooted out the door.

5 minutes later, the class ended, we picked up our mats and made our way to a corner of the studio. To our great dejection, we were met once again with threatening looks from a much younger, more hip (and ripped) looking group of moms in spandex pants. They, shocked that anyone would dare come in 15 minutes before their class start and try and use the room for some stretching, allowed us a corner as long as no one wanted to put their cycle there. Some words were exchanged between two of them that had something to do with "smart gym" and I knew once again what we were dealing with.

Tomorrow is our first day in the pool, and I am so excited at the prospect of pool snobbery. (sike).