the desert shall rejoice

We joined the desert this morning for an especially glorious Easter celebration.

We stood watching tunnels of draping yellow shower lightly to the desert floor.

I thought it must have been what heaven is like. Our walk reminded me that everything on this earth testifies of God's love for His children.

I know Jesus Christ lives and loves me. And you.

If you don't know now, you can again. You knew it before you were born.

Happy Easter!

the FREEdom

Total without coupons: $82.42 Total with coupons: $38.65

I think there comes a time in every woman's life when she realizes six dollars for a block of cheese is unacceptable. Even the cows know it's ridiculous. For me, that time is now.

It all began with faith. I knew there had to be some way to feed my family without emptying the "keep Veronica air conditioned" fund. I felt like a woman living in 1830, searching for the truth. (Almost.)

Jamie enters at this point in the journey. We were good friends in high school, and made up two of the "Three Sopranos," until one blessed day, we learned we were actually cousins! It was almost the best day of my life. Jamie is one of my friends (cousins) on facebook, and she started posting all about her life as a couponer. She was saving several small towers of money on each shopping trip. I was inspired. I had found my answer, and it was coupons.

My favorites from this grocery trip are the free dozen eggs, free cake mix, free skittles Easter eggs, free computer paper, free Frosted Miniwheats, two boxes of Captain Crunch for a dollar, and the six free deodorants. The latter coupled with air conditioning should keep me smelling like a budding rose all summer long.

Thank you Jamie, Krazy Coupon Lady, and patient cashiers.

Oh, and these were free too.

Old Blue Sparkly rides again

Please donate your old modest prom dresses to Sue's Closet! I'll love you forever, as will dozens of girls going to prom today.

Eight years ago, I was excited to get to drill team practice after school. I wanted to show all the girls a catalog with the dress I was hoping to wear to junior prom. It was all we talked about when we weren't practicing. And there's no place for surprises when it comes to prom. Girls have to thoroughly discuss every stitch and hue of their gown.

When I got to practice, I was crushed when I showed one girl, who showed another, who showed another, each laughing louder than the last at the dress I'd proposed wearing. You see, this catalog showcased gowns with sleeves, backs and fronts.

"Are they ALL like this?" One girl asked, flipping the pages in hysterics.

"How can you even dance in that?"

"I'd wear this one at my funeral."

I wanted to cry, but I managed to reclaim my catalog and secure a safe place for it deep in the abyss of my backpack. I got the dress anyways, and I felt beautiful. I had a fun time with my friends, and I'll never forget the sense of peace I felt in choosing a dress that didn't compromise my standards.

And I danced like crazy that night. Win, win.

A purple tinkerbell skirt my mom altered to make knee-length for winter homecoming. When I thought happy thoughts, and with a little pixie dust, I started floating.

Sue's Closet needs donations of prom dresses, hangers, skirts, shrugs (to go over sleeveless dresses) and money to construct shrugs. If you are in the area and have a dress to donate, just call Melanie at 480-567-6822.

I told Melanie to continue posting pictures of the girls in the dresses they rent out on their facebook page, because I wanted to see these babies out painting the town, where they belong.

Oh, and in case you were wondering...
how many pictures were taken to get the tink shot...

1

2

3

4

5--Ta-da!

ever feel like you're climbing Everest with no legs?

Me either.

My husband and I have become enthralled with everything Everest. We are deeply fascinated by the special breed of human spirit that attempts this feat. These people can endure unrelenting mental suffering that comes with each step towards the summit. I admire the over 2,000 people who've stood on Everest's summit, as well as every capable mountaineer who descends its slopes, weeping in defeat.

We found a reality show documenting real Everest expeditions. The first season had a double amputee, a chronic asthmatic, and a man whose every bone was held together with metal bolts and contraptions. (AKA, he rides motorcycles.) After months of climbing, the double amputee stood at the roof of earth. Mark Inglis is the first man to reach the top of our world with no legs. The asthmatic and metal guy came within a few thousand feet of victory.

My eyes were opened to real endurance. I felt like God was asking, "Do you see what my children are capable of?" Thanks to this man, I now understand that my limitations are grassy hills dotted with spring in comparison to his 29,000-foot avalanching, -40-degree mountain. This image flashes in my mind every time my brain screams at me to stop and trek back down my mountain.

"Mark Inglis climbed Everest. I can certainly finish a 30-minute run!"

"Do you think Mark Inglis complains about grocery shopping? The answer's 'no.'"

"Relax. Breathe in the voluptuous oxygen levels at 1100 feet. Then deal with Darcy's sweet potato painting."

Escape

Too late to rescue Tonka Timmy, the crew decides to save their own lives while they still can.

Don't you just hate cliffhangers?

Happy Friday!

I wish you many restful naps.

Hopefully you can cuddle with something cuddlier than spools of thread. 

"I'm not superstitious, but I am a little stitious."

Superstition Mountain, April 6, 2011

My husband offered to take me to The Melting Pot for our anniversary. I was thrilled about three things: one, the melted cheese; two, the melted chocolate; and three, that my husband would offer this. Steve works very hard to keep us all fed and clothed and sheltered. And a Melting Pot dinner for two is just like feeding a hundred dollars to the small flame under the pots of cooking food.

Steve was flabbergasted when I suggested we hike Superstition Mountain instead for our fourth anniversary. It's a well-known fact to the mountains of the world that I hate them. I grew up in the Sacramento Valley. And any time I've ever gone on a hike, I feel like the slow, blind donkey in the lineup.

Hiking with Steve is so different from all my bad experiences in the past. There's absolutely zero pressure to sprint up the mountain. He stays with me. He stops with me. He's patient and calming. He's always been this man for me, hiking or not. He's the sole reason I haven't had an anxiety-induced heart attack yet.

After forty minutes of hiking, we reached the congratulatory bench. Beyond this point you need Sherpas, ladders, rappelling equipment and terms like "belay." This was the setting for the romantic dinner I had planned while we watched the sunset.

The bench rested against the base of a living mountain blooming with cactus flowers. We sat perched near the top of Superstition, tucked into its chest. From our protected alcove, we watched rain and thunderstorms march past on all sides while we munched smoked salmon on bagels with cream cheese, smokies, a bucket of strawberries, veggies and dip, and See's truffles.

Some might say the view was a little ominous for an anniversary setting. But I thought it was perfection. It was like watching a replay of our lives at the top of the world, and a preview of what was yet to come. Storms were pounding the desert. Yes, we got rained on and a little cold. But we were untouchable to the bulk of wind and rain as we stood elevated, attached to something bigger than ourselves.

Happy anniversary to my best friend. We will make it through the storms of life together.

"Mom, what's buttermilk?"

I talk to my mom every day on the phone. We talk about family, world events, books, and the future. She is my favorite person to talk to on the phone.

Most of the time, these hour-long conversations are followed up by a few mom/wife questions:

Mom, why won't Darcy nap?


Mom, why is my banana bread falling apart?


Mom, what is buttermilk?
(I was definitely standing in the pasta section of the grocery store. You'd think I'd at least be in either the butter section or the milk section.)

Believe it or not, homemade buttermilk waffles are made without rigatoni!

Recipe here.

I am now three for four in hot breakfast week! Steven says he wishes every week were hot breakfast week. What do you think? I love seeing him gobble the food I make especially for him.

Today is our four-year anniversary. We are climbing the top of a mountain (sans baby) and picnicking among candles, red rocks, cacti, and a delicious menu I've put together.

Can't wait to tell you all how it goes!

another day of hot breakfast

C'mon over! The eggs are fully cooked!

I made huevos ree-os, as The Pioneer Woman loves to call them.

I mistakenly called them "egg-os ree-os" a couple times. Makes me wonder if the Eggo Waffle was initially going after a Latin demographic. Do you ever come across a part of your day where feel the urge to start speaking in Spanish? Regardless of knowing just a few menu items and catchy slogans from taco bell?

I'm sure it's just me.
Ay de mi, gordita.

I gathered this recipe from the Internet right before going to the grocery store. I remember looking at the ingredients for this one: eggs, cheese, picante sauce.

This one is going to be lame.

The thought could not have been farther from the result. I was pleasantly surprised, and these eggs turned out to be my favorite hot breakfast so far. (That's not saying much considering day one, but blueberry muffins are right up there with breathing and sleeping for me as far as being a fan of something.)

I've never in my life cooked eggs so well. I always make scrambled eggs. Making this breakfast was amazing--like learning to execute a perfect butterfly stroke when I'd been doggy paddling my whole life. It feels great to learn something new.

Nothing like an English-style breakfast with a dash of Picante!

Poofy morning hair agrees: these huevos are delicioso.

hot breakfast week: day two

Hot breakfast day two could not have gone more differently than day one. 

 Let's see, can't have cake for breakfast. I'LL HAVE A MUFFIN!

-Jim Gaffigan

I am so proud of myself for not quitting after day one. The overall theme of my life has never been try, try again. Mine would probably be, "If at first you don't succeed, situate yourself in the room as far away from your failure as possible. Take a commercial jet to the opposite coast, if need be." Hey, they sell blueberry muffins on those planes sometimes. 

Maybe that's why I'm doing this whole thing. I'm trying to change habits of quitting things I'm not good at. Because taking care of my home, and by extension, my husband and baby, is something I think is worth fighting for.  

This is a much healthier version of the blessed blueberry muffin. Made from scratch, these beauties are made with white whole wheat flour. I never heard of such a thing. As opposed to the Starbucks version of nearly 500 calories, these are about 200 calories each. These turned out so good, Steve took some to his co-workers! When he came home from work, he said they were a big hit. I never knew being domestic could make you feel like a rockstar! Recipe here.

Me: Is today April Fool's?

Steve: No.

beat, beat

Steve: April Fool's!

Happy April Fools! Wishing you a low-impact prank day!