scones, songs, and kissin'

Good afternoon...heading into evening. This morning, after blissfully sleeping in till 9 o'clock, i made scones: chocolate-orange! yum! Here is the recipe, from The Art and Soul of Baking, by Cindy Mushet. As Cindy points out, this recipe is very adaptable...if you don't want chocolate orange, you can substitute other flavorings and add-ins! (the original recipe was for orange-cherry scones. i subbed chocolate for the dried cherries).

2 c flour
1/4 c sugar
zest of 1 large orange
1 3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 stick cold butter, cubed
1/2 c chocolate pieces
3/4 c buttermilk.

Preheat oven to 425, and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Stir together flour, sugar, zest, b.p., b.s., and salt. Cut in butter using pastry cutter. Stir in chocolate pieces. Add buttermilk and stir until the dough holds together. Turn out onto floured surface, and knead until the dough holds together. Form dough into an even disc about 1 inch thick. Cut into 6 triangles.
Place triangles onto baking sheet, and bake 14-17 minutes.
once scones are out of oven, make some delicious black tea. enjoy scones with tea! (or coffee of course :)

Here is another song. similar theme to the last one.

I. (A)Do you know the (G)birds still sing though (A)you (D)de-(A)spair?
(A) Do you know there's (G)fullness in ev'ry(A)thing though (A)all (D)seems (A)bare?
You're (D)ready to (G)give (D)up this time,
The un-(A)want-(D)ed child who (G)got (D)left behind (A)
(D)Your last cry (G)was (D)met with silence,
(A) You've (D)re-(A)signed

II. Do you know the light still shines, though you've lost your way?
Do you know you can still come home though you've run away?
All you loved was torn from you,
You question all you thought you knew,
You're angry and you wonder who
You are

III. Do you hear the voice that's calling through your tears?
Do you feel the peace that reaches past your fears?
My child, you have ev'rything,
Lift up your voice and with it sing,
And hear the whole earth echoing
My love

IV. Lord, though I may hide your name, the stones cry out.
Lord, though I may be ashamed, the hills will shout.
Please destroy my cowardice,
And may your praise live on my lips,
Exalting Him, Who was and is
My God

need sleep!

May...be...getting...sick...so...tired.
more mopey poetry...too tired for explanation. not great. better luck tomorrow!

I expect a snake when I need meat,
A stone instead of bread--or, given bread,
I hear this echo: "Those who work may eat,
And begging isn't labor. So, instead
Of diving in with gratitude, I wait
To hear the catch, or else some negative
Assessment of my worth (I'm second-rate
For daring ask for more than I've been giv'n.)
And yet, how many times have I been told
To ask in faith and, as a child, boldly
Watch with wonder as the work unfolds,
The work which isn't mind, but His, Who holds
The world and I in steady, tender hands,
The work of love, which only faith demands.

post 5 mo-anniversary!

Hello! well...i think my work schedule may finally be heading back to normalcy! and i have 3 car possibilities lined up, so...despite the fact that i've Still managed to bite my nails to nothing, a lot of stress should be subsiding quickly. hopefully. i had a revelation that i should probably not worry about whether or not i'm about to get in trouble at work until i actually do, and deal with it then. because i keep worrying that something's about to blow up and i'll get blamed for things, but it's usually okay. no yelling. no guilting. hm...
Yesterday, daniel, christi, and i celebrated daniel's and my 5-month anniversary :)by the pinion-scented chiminea, with black russians (which turned into vanilla-russians with dr pepper because i apparently cannot be trusted to buy alcohol. i try to save money by buying cheaper stuff, which turns out to be undrinkable. even un-cookable. yikes. :) so we sat, talked, imbibed...i serenaded terribly on my terrible (but much-loved) guitar, and christi played fruit-ninja on her phone. and daniel did some singing as well. it was quite, quite perfect. and there is Jane Lane feltie (complete with elongated neck!) posing on top of an adorable napkin my mum mailed to me along with MORE FELT!
two poems today! not fun ones, i'm afraid. the first one seems to me to have a certain 'republican' vibe. i'm not sure the 3 stanzas really even go together. they're both a little 'doom and gloom' and judgmental but here they are:

Living for the momentary,
Driving to despair,
Why is ev'ry treasured thing
A toxic breath of air?

When did Virtue starve herself
For popularity--
Or paint herself on Sundays,
Half-surprised, half-guiltily?

A life like ours is simple
If you train your clear-born mind
To state but one truth firmly, namely:
"Love is best when blind."


The loss of heaven was a little thing
For men of earth, at first. The wind grew chill,
The bluebird's song turned harsh and menacing,
More thorns than flowers grew upon the hill--
Small changes, easily ignored by those
Whose minds had been accustomed to ignore--
The loss of heaven was a change that posed
No threat, so life continued as before...
One shortened day or two, then color drained,
The bluebird losing blue, the thorn its gray.
And senses deadened. No one drank the rain,
Turned face-to-wind. All good things fell away
As men forgot their names, their lives, their worth:
The loss of heaven was the loss of earth.

eHarmonizing

Hola. Guten Tag! that's all i've got, foreign-language wise.
Anyhow, thank you to Christi for giving me permission to share that unbeatable picture with you, along with this caption: Christi after 2 hours of EHarmonizing. which is obviously the proper term. ;) (she was actually singing a song, and i snuck a shot, which i admit was sneaky and devious.) the middle picture is of daniel and i, with daniel looking newly-shaven and short-haired and quite, quite handsome! (although he does no matter what his hair and beard are doing.) and finally, daria morgendorffer (sp?) and trent lane make a feltie appearance. if anyone wants to rent them for the low, low price of $5/hour in order to reenact your favorite daria/trent moments, let me know.
alright, so confession: i've been having a Really hard time making myself go to church lately. it feels solitary and awkward and i space out and don't 'enjoy' it. and true, i do not have a reliable car at the moment, but there are people around i could ask for a ride! but that's awkward too. at some point in my life i became one big scaredy-cat. what's up with that?! i'm also trying to convince myself that 'maybe cpc is just not where i'm meant to be...i think they're missing some things....i feel like i'm missing out on a significant part of what it means to be a Christian and i'm not getting the teaching i need there.' which, whether there's any truth there or not, is primarily just a wicked excuse to stay at home sunday mornings. i also justify this because i do a deplorable job of reading my Bible and praying during the week, and if i stay at home sunday mornings, i am sure to do both those things because goodness knows i wouldn't stay at home just to watch Daria (my conscience won't quite allow that, but it could be a temptation you know?)! but i Should be reading/praying all week, instead of avoiding it because i'm afraid of...what? being called. not being called to anything. anyway, christi suggested i try writing a praise song this morning, which i did, and here it is. i realize the poetry is not at all 'high-brow', but hopefully it speaks truth.

I.
G
There's a voice I long to hear,
C
And it whispers in my ear
em
Every day, but I'm
D
Running away.
I know it's filled with love,
I know it counsels peace,
But it calls me to give up
What I won't release.

Ch.
(C)But I will never (D)leave you
(G)I will not for-(em)sake you
(C)Run, for fear or (D) pride
I'll call you (em)home
(C)With open (D)arms
I'll call you (G) home

II. There's a hardness in my heart,
I wish would just depart--
Wake up, it's gone!--
But i'm holidng on.
It is crippling my soul,
Constricting all my joy,
Why is the voice of life
The voice I avoid?

III. I'm deaf and dumb and blind,
I am weak, but made alive,
And He's healing me
Mercifully.
And the first thing that I'll hear
Is, "Child, I am here.
I died for you,
Because I love you."

worry

Look at the kitties! Are they not such good friends? such drowsy, bleary-eyed friends? oh yes!
here is a poem that ended up being about worrying. because i, gentle readers ;) am worrying. about finding a car. about life-direction. about whether or not i'll ever be conscious of God speaking to me. am i working out enough? at all? (why?!) hmph. and i know it's wrong.

Wishes ran away with
Hoping followed suit
Longing looked bewildered
Yearning fled from truth

Peace gazed from a distance
Rest approached me slow
Calmness kissed me, breathing:
"You don't have to know."

A tribute to izzy, the greatest cat ever!

Thanks to Christi for the AMAZING picture of crazy izzy (now affectionately known as the Izzbot. :) here are three stupid poems about my lovely girl, and then one more from today, about the creation of day and night. Haven't posted lately because 1) i've been stressed 2) i've been on a fantastic weekend/valentine's day vacation to dallas 3) i've been reading the Mortal Instruments trilogy by Cassandra Clare (love! but it is over, for now :( ) and 4) i've been watching Daria. so....poetry? not so much :(

dallas was so much fun! daniel took me out to dinner at this scrumptious :) latin american restaurant/bakery. i think it was my first four-course meal in a restaurant ever! and one of the best meals i've ever had, as well, with one of my favorite people :)
haha, now there is an adorable black cat sitting right in our front door and having a stare down with Trouble. i think he's deciding whether or not to come in...whoops, foot in the house...new friend for Trouble? i don't think the Izz would approve. alas, Trouble's friendly (?) advances led to Mr Alleycat scurrying away. alright, enough babble, here are the poems, as promised (and this is your warning: they are written in the most childish doggerel evah):

Izzy Trilogy

My cat is sitting on my couch,
She's perched in a ferocious crouch--
Oops, now she's fleeing, fast as light--
That squirrell gave her quite a fright!

And now my cat sits in the tub,
While yowling 'Rub-a-dub-a-dub!'
She isn't there for getting clean,
Not her! She's only there to sing.

Miss Izzy's sitting by the door;
She doesn't know it's minus-four
Degrees outside--she wants to roam!
But I know she should stay at home.

Crazy Cat.


Moon poem

Long before the line was drawn
'Tween dying night and wailing dawn,
Before the blunt-nosed black and white
When looks could kill and might was right,
The moon was jealously dismayed,
For when the sun his rays displayed,
Her own were quite redundant, see--
And no one knew her misery.
She spoke her sorrows to the stars,
Which didn't get her very far,
For they were deaf as well as mute;
Besides, they didn't give a hoot.
And as she fretted, growing dim,
(For envy drained her), on a whim
She thought, "I'll put on a disguise
And scare that sun out of the skies!"
She dressed herself in tides and waves,
For though the sun was proud and brave,
She thought, "He knows his weakness, right?
He'll have to run away in fright,
Or I will douse his life right out!"
Her plan would work, she had no doubt.
But what she didn't realize
Was, when she donned her great disguise,
Her own half-faded light would die--
And so it did. The poor Moon cried,
And sobbed and wept, and wailed, "Woe!
I'm just a rock! I cannot glow!"
But this is when the line was drawn
'Tween dying night and wailing dawn,
When, pitying the foolish Moon,
The Sun bestowed this humble boon:
To let her glow with his great light,
And be the glory of the night.

An Oddly-Induced Headache

Getting ready for some Freschetta pizza (it's the Best!) and another day of...what?...snow??? oh, yeah. While we're on the subject of pre-packaged foods, Tostitos 'hint of lime' chips are also the best. the best of the chip category. mmmmmmmm.

here is a poem, that is not very good...but at least i am faithful to the blog! There is also no picture because the one I drew was not very interesting. so Go Imaginations, Go!!! oh, and it was inspired by the fact that i had a headache yesterday, and it lingered on today (until i got home from work?? :) i'm pretty sure it's due to stress, but that didn't sound very fun to write about.

I know I have a headache,
I think that I know why--
My head was hit by something
That came tumbling from the sky.
'Twas not precipitation,
Neither snow, nor sleet, nor hail--
I know, because before it struck,
I heard a tiny wail. [oh woe is me!]
Whate'er it was, was panicking,
And conscious of its fate--
I'm searching for it now, and oh,
I hope it's not too late!
Because I think it must have been
A tiny aeroplane,
Whose pilot was no larger than
A single grain of...grain.
My head aches like it'd kill me,
But my heart is aching, too.
I hope you're somewhere safe and sound,
Small pilot from the Blue!

Hooray, I found it--what is this?
No tiny jet, praise be!
It's just a...bee adorned in armour?!
Gracious, dearie me!
A bee with ill-intention,
A bee dressed up for war!
He struck me as he stung me--
No wonder I'm so sore!

A tale of Love, Revenge, and...Breakfast?

Good morning! This poem is the product of an imagination but newly awoken. So it's extra...special. i need coffee. on a positive note, the mail finally came again yesterday, and i saw ASPHALT! yes, ASPHALT! the roads are no longer one giant sheet of snow and ice...although now that it's early morning, they're probably all nice and icy again. but it's uplifting to know that there's an end in sight! "Here comes the sun and i say, it's all right, it's okay." and "the sun will come out tomorrow!" because today once again has a chance of snow. alas and alack. alright, no more rambling, just poetry! here goes:

Pamela Pancake was always on edge,
For some other breakfast food threatened to wedge
Itself right between her and her husband (a man):
A piece of wheat toast topped with raspberry jam.
"'If not for the jam, she'd be boring as...bread!"
She moaned as she mused, "Oh, I wish I were dead!
I've seen how he looks at her, seen how she flirts--
I wish I could topple her into the dirt!"
But Pamela Pancake was really quite kind,
So instead of do anythingthat unrefined,
She dressed herself up in nutella and fruit,
With a sprinkling of cinnamon-sugar to boot.
Her husband came home, looking famished and beat.
"Why, babe, you look good enough, frankly, to eat!"
"I'll get you some toast, dear," she said with a smile...
I guess I was wrong, she can plot and beguile!

little lester limabean

Snow Day number 3! if this poem doesn't convince you that i'm starting to go crazy, well then! :) the first picture is my family of valentine's felties. they make me happy! i will have to break up the happy family in order to spread the love and give them to people, but...it must be done. they'll be okay. here it goes:

Little Lester Limabean
Had crushing secret woes:
"I wish I were a human! How
I LONG to have some toes!
But as it is, I cannot walk,
Can't grasp, kiss, or converse.
I'm just a lowly limabean.
Could life get any worse?"
He heard about the mermaid who
Gave up her voice for legs.
"Oh, may I meet an evil witch
And do the same!" he begged.
Just then, an ancient crow
Swooped by and stared him in the eye.
"Your voice ain't much to barter with!
It's scratchy, soft, and dry!
However, I adore a plump
And juicy limabean.
You Do look quite delicious,
Just the perfect shade of green!"
"Don't eat me, ma'am! I'd rather be
A humble bean than dead!"
"Oh, really?" glared the bird. "Alright.
I'll take your name instead."
And so, for reasons unexplained,
The crow-witch worked her art,
And gave a nameless limabean
A brand-new human start.
He tottered, quite elated, on
His new born, bony feet--
"Who am I now?" he wondered--
"Gosh, I need a bite to eat!"
He settled on spaghetti at
A restaurant in town,
Then gave himself a manly name:
"I'm Branwyn Brawny Brown!"
Unfortunately, Branwyn Brown
Was not of courage made.
He was, he found out later,
Rather shamefully afraid.
The local village villain challenged
Branwyn to a fight.
Before it scarce was underway,
He ran away in fright.
"I guess I'd better change my name,"
He whispered, quite forlorn.
"I'll choose a simpler one this time,
Like...Maxwell Morris Morn."
No bully had a beef with that,
So Maxwell's life went on.
He loved to dance, he loved to eat,
And race, and grin, and yawn.

i'm camoflaged!

snow day number two! list of things to do today: budget, clean kitchen, laundry, find the title to my poor old car, clean out my inbox, DANCE!, risk upsetting the poor visiting cat by making bread in my noisy bread machine???...possibly borrow a snow shovel.
yes, i am having trouble not mildly freaking out because i am losing money by not being able to go to work. Everyone is losing money. the coffee shop is losing money, the tulsa world, the transit people...and we're all going to be fine. "Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, not about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." Matthew 6:25-34.

Today's poem is about an overwhelmed cuckoo clock:

Yesterday my cuckoo clock
Grew so confused, it froze.
"There's so much time! It Never ends,
On, on, and on it goes!"
"And yet it marches steadily--
It's one, two, three, and four,
Etcetera...it's simple! Though,
It does sound like a bore."
"I don't abhor the tedium!
If only I could rest
An hour here or there...but time
Is one eternal pest!
A second, minutes, hours, days!
Then weeks and months and years!
And I keep track of All Of It!
I've had it up to here!!"
It's then poor cuckoo stopped.
His hands read half-past ten-till-two.
And since time's marching on, he'll have
Some catching-up to do.

Blizzard!

Well...SNOW DAY! which consists of many movies, baking cookies, crafting felties, ummm cleaning cat puke...anyway, let me just say that the most amazing about this day is the fact that Daniel is on an extensive bike trip headed to dallas. and is, thank goodness, safely hotel-ed for the night! and, i believe, at the end of the day, having a good trip. hooray!
so here is a completely strange love poem concerning anthropomorphized meat (and i have NO idea how to actually spell that. spell check assures me that whatever i wrote is incorrect, however. thank you. ;)

Dewey Drumstick said to Thelma Thigh,
"Folks love me more, but, babe, I don't know why!
You're My first choice, the best part of the bird!"
He kissed her then, without another word.
"Oh Dewy, Darling, you're so very kind!
You've lifted such a weight from off my mind--
I'll throw off my unfounded jealousy,
And care for nothing but your love for me!"