Freezer Cooking Links

Every time I try to plan a freezer cooking episode I end up scouring the internet for "those sites I used last time."  So, here they are.

The sites I used last time:
http://thrivinghomeblog.com/healthy-recipes-index/healthy-freezer-meals-recipes

http://fabulesslyfrugal.com/freezer-meal-recipes-master-list

http://www.sixsistersstuff.com/2013/02/10-slow-cooker-freezer-meals-in-less

http://whoneedsacape.com/2012/11/crockpot-freezer-cooking

This is a Bible study about tacos

My commute home today was long and no fun.
There was a wreck on the highway, a wreck on the side-road I took to acoid the wreck on the highway, a wreck on the second higway I needed to get on, and onlooker delays on the third highway.

Also, I was getting hungry.

Along my detour route I passed a Taco Bell. 

Mmmmmmm...taco....
I could smell it.

I called my husband and said, "I'm craving a Taco Bell taco." 
He said, "Are you pregnant?"
Hell-to-the-NO.
"I JUST WANT A TACO. And there are wrecks on all these highways, and a thunderstorm is chasing me."
He said, "OK, sweetie."

I figured my healthy, vegetarian lunch would afford me a little cheat, so I decided to hit up the next TB along the way. Take-out Tex-Mex is as common as heat in August around here, so I kept driving.

And driving.

And driving.

And I came upon a Taco Bueno.

Out of sheer fear that my taco quest would fail, and hoping upon hope that an alternate taco would satisfy the craving and fulfill my desire for a dietary cheat, I pulled into the Bueno drive-thru.

The service was nice enough, and I'd ordered water instead of a soda to maintain some sense of "better choices" decorum.

But that's where the tacomoon ended, friends.

My taco was holey.

Not Jesus holy, but truly, wholely HOLE-Y.
Like BIG GAPING HOLE in my tortillia hole-y, spilling taco meat and lettuce and tomato bits all over my New Blue Dress.
AND, my water tasted like dirt. I hope to God and Jesus that had nothing to do with the restaurant's proximity to the city landfill.

(Let it be noted that this post contains three mentions of the sovereign Lord of the universe, so I can now be classified as a Christian writer and this post, therefore, is a Bible study.)

No bueno, Bueno.

Fortunately, out of spite for that dadgum Bueno taco, a Taco Bell appeared along the last leg of my detour.

Praise. The. Lord.
(This is the worship portion of our study)

And I got the greasy, juicy goodness, plus a root beer to wash the landfill taste out of my mouth.
With praise and thanksgiving.

and this is how we'll increase our geek cred

From an IM conversation with my friend, Julie, who is also a new hire at my office (we were co-workers previously, then friends, now both).

Maggie Francis 1:20 PM

Did you not get the talk about clear vs dark trashcan liners?

Julie Boone 1:28 PM
Hmm! Guess not!
I know we have recycling bins but they say glass and plastic only

Maggie Francis 1:31 PM
usually large bins near printers with clear liners. Those are for paper
and the ones in your cube are theoretically for paper only (note: clear liner) but most in-cube trash is more diverse than that

Julie Boone 1:32 PM
k... so I should take my paper to the large bin near a printer for recycling?
Cool! (H)

Maggie Francis 1:32 PM
if it's the same kind of bin that's by our printer, yes.
perhaps ask Jody. She knows all rules

also, I love that a blog is called "nerdist" http://www.nerdist.com/2013/01/copy-that-did-glee-pilfer-jonathan-coultons-baby-got-back/

Julie Boone 1:34 PM
LOL!

Maggie Francis 1:34 PM
i might be following Wil Wheaton on twitter

Julie Boone 1:34 PM
Ahh, K. Yes I will ask Jody, who is keeper of all good knowledge.
And why shouldn't you?

Maggie Francis 1:34 PM
yes! exactly!
I only wish I knew more about Dr Who.

Julie Boone 1:34 PM
Why?

Maggie Francis 1:35 PM
then I could tweet references like all the cool nerds
somewhere in my ascension to adult nerddom, I missed the Dr Who train.

Julie Boone 1:35 PM
LOL! Dr Who, Star Trek, Star Wars -- they all count. ;)

Maggie Francis 1:36 PM
I need to go to my friends house and hold his baby and get educated. He owns all of all of it. And has it memorized

Julie Boone 1:37 PM
The other gaping hole in my ascent to hip nerd-dom is that I haven't read H.P. Lovecraft. 'course, I can't pronounce half his made-up titles for things, so I've only recently noticed.

Maggie Francis 1:39 PM
well, you're one more then me, cause I don't even know what that is.
I think I should declare this summer the Summer of NerdDom and immerse myself. Like a language immersion class, only for aspiring nerds

Julie Boone 1:40 PM
See, but if I typed "Cluthlu," or something like that, you'd probably recognize it because it gets referenced like Dr. Who. That's Lovecraft.

Maggie Francis 1:40 PM
OMG, I just realized that's a FANTASTIC IDEA

Julie Boone 1:40 PM
Ooh, I likey!!!! Can we have a club?

Maggie Francis 1:40 PM
YES
YES WE CAN

Julie Boone 1:40 PM
I'm SO IN!!!!!



.

a drive to Bolivia

I had a delightful conversation with a stranger’s 3 yr old today.  Actually, I didn’t do much talking at all. This little cutie was talking 90 miles per hour and would sometimes slip into Spanish, and other times jumble up her words in the way only a 3 yr old can do.  But most of the time I understood her. Even so, following the uninhibited, stream-of-consciousness chatter of a preschooler is quite a mental workout. We were at the play-therapists office (we need a play therapist to help us understand how badly we’ve screwed up our kids), and she saw me drop off my son with the therapist. It went something like this:

I sat down in the lobby, expecting to busy myself mindlessly with my smart phone, and I’m greeted with, “Hi! Did he come out of your tummy?” (her mother looked at me, mortified)

Me: Yes, yes he did. A long time ago.

3yo: I was in mommy’s tummy...(something in Spanish)… something, something… How old is he?
Me: I have a girl who is 9, and a boy who is 7.
3yo mother: You have two?
Me: Yes, that’s enough.
3yo mother: Oh, I have 5.
Me: That’s great.
3yo: They were in your tummy?
Me: Yes.

3yo: I’m 3! I will have a birthday tomorrow! (her mother interjects that her birthday is in October. She didn’t really need to because I already know that any time after today is “tomorrow” in a preschooler’s mind, regardless of how far in the future.)
3yo: My birthday is in October.
Me: Oh, how fun. Will you have a party? (as I silence my phone and slip it into my purse.. .this could take a while)
3yo: I have a party and we run around and scream and have races and play games and play tag and hide-and-seek and race and play with toys but not my brother’s toys because he doesn’t share. He won’t share! (this time with indignation). No, he doesn’t share (this time pleading, as if I should do something about the unsharing brother).
Me: Do your friends come to your party?
3yo: Rattles off several names sprinkled with Spanish exclamations. Her mother explains she’s naming her friends.
Me: Do cousins come to your parties too?  We have lots of cousins at our parties.
3yo: (with added fervor) My cousin is in Bolivia! We drive there in our car and see… (Spanish stuff). Her mother explains that they fly to Bolivia, not drive. The girl argues that they did, indeed, drive to Bolivia, because that’s where they saw Nickelodeon.
3yo mother: Oh, that was California! We drove to California.

3yo, looking at me: We drove to Bolivia.

The convo ended with her telling me about a pig that ate burgers and burgers and burgers until he blew up or something. I thought she said he ate “boogers” at first and thought to myself, “Well, that’s one way to deter your kid from booger-eating. Just tell them they'll explode.”

These, of course, are just the highlights of 10 minutes or so of chatter from this little doll.

I loved her.

Her precious, and precocious, little being drug me out of what could have been a mindless tunnel and reminded me of the crazy, fascinating details of life. Details that are mundane to adults but marvelous through the eyes of a child. Details that we like to lay out with order and sense, but when filtered through the nonsensical mind of a preschooler become fantastic.

You and I know you can’t drive to Bolivia, but that “road trip” is one her imagination is holding on to because it’s awesome, not because it’s possible.

And I hope my next birthday party is JUST LIKE HERS.

I mean, really folks – that’s some kind of party she’s about to have tomorrow. 

“We run around and scream.”

I’m totally doing that.

Of course I would be remiss if I didn’t also add that this experience brought to mind Matthew 18, where Jesus says, “…unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven…”

I’m no Biblical scholar, but my take-home from this – at least for today – is a command to wonder.

To marvel.
To stand in awe.
To not know everything exactly.
To be fascinated by details because God designed them.
 
And to drive to Bolivia.

Lyrics I'd rather not hear from my 9-yr-old

A few weeks back when I learned that my child... my child... inspired the church camp spirit cheer to the tune of "I'm Sexy And I Know It," I thought maybe... just maybe... we might exercise a bit more parental censorship over the mp3 playlists.

Of all the things we filter for our kiddos -- TV shows, books, playdates, party themes, etc. -- I have always held the reins more loosely on the music front. I tend to think it's a fairly harmless way to express individuality.  Musical tastes can be intensely personal, even for children.  I already see it in them: Allison gravitates towards the groove of hip-hop while also enjoying top 40 hits with her girlfriends.  Joel chooses Beethoven, classical guitar, and Christmas music sung as lullabyes. I know that when I'm listening to "my" music my mood changes. The drum beat feels as if it's literally coursing through my veins, and an acoustic guitar solo can strum away the day's tension.

I know that as Good Christian Parents we should only allow Jesus Music in the house, sing nightly from a Baptist Hymnal and hum praise music as the little darlings drift off to sleep at night.  The problem is that about 90% of Jesus music sucks.  It's awful, really.  Really. Like, really-bad-country-music sort of awful. I can sometimes appreciate the lyrics and that some God-loving human was moved by the Spirit to lay it all out there in song.  I get it.  I've read the Psalms.  There's some beautiful stuff in there. 

But I bet the tunes those beautiful words were set to were akin to nails on a chalkboard. 

I mean, think of what they had for instruments back then -- a harp and lyre?  No drum kit, bass, electric guitar or keyboard. What the hell is a lyre anyway?  (BTW: I can say "hell" because it's in the Bible - just like "ass." But even though it's a proper noun, I'm not going to capitalize it, because hell is a bad place.  Real bad. And I don't want to inadvertently glorify it with a capital letter.)

At any rate, I'm still pretty liberal with our music allowance, but I have been thinking about it. I've been especially thinking about how some lyrics sound when they come out of a 9-yr-old.  So, I've decided to listen a little more closely and take a mental note of lyrics I'd rather not hear from her sweet little face.  Let's start with these:

Grab somebody sexy, tell 'em, "Hey, give me everything tonight..."

Got no drink in my hand, but I'm wasted. Gettin' drunk off the thought of you naked.

It's a quarter after 1, I'm a little drunk and I need you now

I brushed my teeth with a bottle of Jack

I'll update as I hear more.
I hear Kidz Bop does a good job of converting suggestive lyrics to something less raunchy, but you have to listen to all those stinking kids singing.