Texas Trash

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A friend of mine who hails from Texas sent me a sample of this stuff called Texas Trash. It’s delicious, but probably not something I can eat a lot of lest I end up unable to fit my jeans. My kids are crazy about it, and now we have the opportunity to try making it ourselves, thanks to him publishing his grandmother’s recipe. Here it is:

via Texas Trash

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Friendship Like This

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O, to have a friend with whom sweet fellowship is shared,

Whose love is real and unretractable

Who sees my flaws and doesn’t try to fix them

Who can tell me he hates me but we know it’s a lie

Who laughs with – not at – me

Who lets me spoil him and doesn’t expect or demand

Unselfish love.

So rare a love.

The kind that lasts forever.

Hang on to those friends with love.

“And now abideth faith, hope, charity (love) these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”(1 Corinthians 13:13)

T-Shirt Renovation

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The following link is for a post on how to make a big ol’ boxy T-shirt into one that fits a lady more nicely. The author is a personal friend of mine with whom I went to high school.

I love the title of her blog: The Duck Stop. My friend lives in the coolest of floating houses with her man and their feline friends. Ducks are common visitors to their “yard”. She hasn’t posted much lately, but I hope she will. She’s a good communicator.

If you’re interested in renovating a T-shirt, visit her post here: T-Shirt Renovation

If you aren’t interested in renovating a T-shirt, at least go see her blog and check out her About section. She’s a lovely person.

Poutine, Tires, and Pardon My French

Here is a photo of my favourite road sign, at 70 Mile House, BC.

I’ve never actually seen anyone in a horse and carriage there. Still, the sign is cool and it suggests the possibility exists.

There is an eating establishment along the highway in that tiny community. We were leaving its parking lot when I shot the picture. It used to be a tire shop till a dozen years ago. It’s now a great place called The Sugar Shack and it is owned by one of the most charismatic characters I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

Robert is l’entrepreneur from Quebec who has built the Sugar Shack here in BC, practically with his bare hands but also with the help of some dented but heavy machinery that dots his property along with the outdoor wood-fired furnace, the sawmill, the log truck, and the piles of perfectly machine-delimbed logs. His various mixed breeds of dogs wander the property, too, calmly greeting visitors and never running out onto the highway.

While we sat there eating poutine today, waiting for summer tires to be installed on our car by the tire dealer (a friend of ours who is a preacher in a small fellowship of Christians, is owner-operator of a logging truck, and has a tire shop at his house a short drive down the road past that sign in the photo), I said, “I’d rather be here than in the finest restaurant decked out with crystal, china, and elegant cuisine.”

The poutine at Sugar Shack is like none other, and Robert is not just boasting when his signs say “You just missed the world’s greatest poutine” on the highway as you drive by.

The fries are from fresh potatoes, golden and crisp on the outside, and perfectly soft and fluffy on the inside. The cheese curds are rumoured to come all the way from Quebec, as is the gravy recipe, and the optional topping of smoked meat really should not be optional if you know what’s good for you. Even if you are a vegetarian, I don’t know if you can honestly say this is not delicious when you taste it.

As we sat there, we listened to Robert and a friend of his talking on the other side of the big wood-ensconced room.

The topic being loudly discussed was a battery charger Robert had apparently loaned to his friend.

Robert said, in his very French-Canadian accent where most of the multi-syllabled words received their emphasis on their last syllable, “I told you to take the batteRY chargER with you to PG.”

PG is what we in the Cariboo region and other parts of BC call Prince George. Of course, Robert pronounced it with the emphasis on the G.

The friend replied in a bland Canadian English voice, with a hint of humour, “Well, I always have a hard time understanding you with your French accent so I didn’t know what you meant.”

Robert let several seconds of silence pass. Then we heard his gravelly voice declaring a solid, “F*** YOU!” with hardly a French accent at all, and with no asterisks, either.

I burst out laughing and turned my head to look over across the room at them. My husband did, too, and laughter was echoing throughout the building by everyone present, Robert included.

I said quietly, “That’s so much like in our family, giving each other the middle finger all over the place. If ya can’t swear at your friends, are they really your friends?”

(This video was made after the other customers left. You can hear Robert talking in the background from the kitchen.)

An Un-churchianity Christian

For years, I couldn’t find a church where I was comfortable. I had been to many organized fellowships, but the more I read the Bible on my own, the more I didn’t feel right about the way things were.

I’m now to the point that I am simply not comfortable in organized churches of the land – and I am comfortable with that.

WE, the believers in Christ, are the church.

There is a lot out there in “churchianity” that is more like a business than the way the Bible shows us about the New Testament believers (the body of Chriest) and how fellowship looks.

I know my beliefs concerning this are unpopular. I get frowned upon by a lot of people who are happy to be involved in Sunday meetings with a specific format, to sit under the teaching of a “leader” who we assume will always know more than we can ever learn on our own by studying the Scriptures like a Berean, to help pay the mortgage and/or the bills of their meeting space, etc. But there are some of us who don’t see that as Biblically correct.

That’s the condensed version to reach out in case others share my feelings. If you can relate, I’d love to hear from you. 🙂

People in dire situations

While I walked to the post office yesterday, a friend called me and we talked for the entire half hour and then some as I stood waiting to go get my mail. She sounded fully stressed out by her living situation. She’s been out of a bad relationship for the past few years, living with family, friends, and strangers, all in different locations and arrangements of rental costs. She’s finally got a good job, but it’s so hard to get herself on her feet in the city where life costs at least double what it does to live out here in the semi-wilderness.

Then there’s another friend who messages me frequently from across the globe. He is living in a land he hates. His beloved wife is living in a whole other country for work. He got hired at a job that he tolerated but it was not his ideal. The company went out of business after less than a month, and they aren’t going to pay him for the weeks of work he put in. He has no way to pay the rent on his place, and his wife doesn’t make enough money in the other country to cover both of their living expenses in separate households.

I don’t have the money to help them out of their messes or I would do so in a beat of my breaking heart. I have no way to help them but to pray for them and be a listening ear.

If anyone reads this, can you please pray for these people you may not know? God knows. I feel my hands are tied and I so want things to get better for everyone. I know I myself have been through stuff and wonder if anyone had been holding me up in prayer to get me through it and on to a safer place in this world.

Management and Brown-nosers

Is that a term people use? “Brown-nosers”? Or is it just something made up by someone I knew in Alaska? I’d hear it being used on guys who were sucking up to the captain on the fishing boat to get on his good side.

“He’s brown-nosing…”

“That guy’s such a brown-noser…”

That kind of thing.

I think of that term when I am addressed by people who are part of associations I manage. I feel as though they are all super nice and respectful to me because I’m the manager, but then I notice they don’t treat everyone else that way.

It became apparent to me, when at one time I stepped down from a management position and put someone else in my place, that the people I managed really didn’t think as highly of me as they acted when I was manager. Suddenly they didn’t talk to me at all, or only in minimal amounts when necessary, and with a hint of cold shoulder.

And I noticed that they suddenly started talking all the more nicely to the new manager.

What’s up with that?

Managers are people, too.

Everyone is deserving of being addressed in a respectful manner, whether you respect them or not.

Melons and Instagram

I saw this on my oldest daughter’s Instagram last night: ↓

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I commented to her, as shown below – me being Squirrelmix: ↓

02 -  comments

Then, I went to my own Instagram and posted this picture: ↓

melon mama (2)

Today, I look at Instagram and I see this by my daughter: ↓

04- N pic

And her comments/hashtags that were under the pic: ↓

05 - comments

That’s all. Have a great day!

Siggy