Sick, yet again.

My hubby and I have both been sick for what seems like an eternity.  Just kidding, it hasn’t been that long, maybe a few weeks.  Anyway, it has been longer than either of us anticipated.  First him, then me.  Interestingly, we have different illnesses.  Today, Hubby asked for soup.  Lucky for him, I was thinking exactly the same thing!  So today, instead of making Home Chef dinner number 2, I’m making Asian chicken soup, yet again.  I don’t have green onions, so the simple chicken drumsticks, ginger, water, and rice wine will have to do.

I’m starting to really like chicken drumsticks.  You know why?  Because I don’t have to touch them at all.  No butterflying, no hacking, no stuffing, nothing.  They either get thrown into the pot for soup, or picked up once to put into a pan to brown.  And that, my friends, for a germaphobe like me, is wonderful.  They have skin, bone, AND meat.  I took them for granted because Mother suggested them to me, and you know if Mom suggests it, how great can it really be?  Sorry Mom.  Turns out Mother is a genius.  I already knew that, but this just reaffirms it once again.


Clothes, Clothes, Clothes.

Recently I’ve been going through a shopping craze.  And by that I mean, adding things to a shopping cart online and not going through with it after reading reviews from the BBB.  I mean browsing through hundreds of pictures of dresses and inspiration.  I mean sending pictures to my friends and hubby and asking them what they think.  I mean wondering what my skin tone is, whether it’s warm yellow and cool yellow.  It’s UGH time consuming.  Stop being so glamorous, fashion bloggers!

This is going to be a lot of rambling, and not in the least bit interesting, just warning you.

So I recently bought a bag from ThredUp because my bag finally lost its magnetic clasp to the wind somewhere at the school I work for.  Of course it did.  I’m so glad I have a work hoodie that I wear everyday because it’s been a few weeks and it already has highlighter and who knows what else all over it.  Anyway, back to the purse.  So I’m kind of excited cause I got a great deal on it, and it should be in “excellent” condition even though it’s secondhand.  But here’s the thing, I’m also worried people will judge me for the brand (Am I the judgmental one?  Oh dear) and think I spent hundreds of dollars on a purse.  So there I was, weighing these things, debating whether I should get a purse.  UGH.  BUT I also read that the quality is actually better with these expensive branded bags, and they can last you a long time, versus my bags my relatives get me from Asia which start shedding fabric chips after a year or so.  (I love you Mom and Auntie and all the bags you’ve ever gotten me I promise!)  The thing is, if I get something that lasts, that means I’m also kind of stuck with it for awhile.  This could be either a good or bad thing.  A day or so later, I found another purse that looked really cute, and I started to regret that I didn’t wait.  I know, the drama.

Next up in life as an adult– need to identify the bug that has been biting me in my sleep.  I’m so scared!  And looking up answers on the internet makes it worse because there are so many gross pictures.

Pretty pictures of tulips instead of bugs found here.

Chicken-y Hands

This girl addresses it in her video!


Her secret?  Prep the salt and pepper beforehand.  BOOM, no chicken-y salt and pepper shakers and contaminating my salt bowl.

Dear reader, how do you keep from having to wash your hands over and over while handling raw meat and seasoning it?

Cooking as a Germaphobe

I am a germaphobe.  There, I said it.

That means if I’m ever at a restaurant with you, no, I will not be comfortable sharing that fine bowl of soup, especially if it’s the non-creamy kind.

R and I were supposed to make dinner today, but because of some miscommunication, we ended up not having all the ingredients.  So what did we do?  Improvised, of course.  “Oh!  I have apples.  And an orange.  And greens that need to be eaten..  and a sprouted potato… uhh yeah throwing that away..”  “I have blackberries!”  “I have linguine.. or spaghetti.. whatever this is, umm and butter, and white wine!”  “I have onions!”  “Ok we can just make pasta and salad?”  “Wait but do you need a protein?”  “I have leftover mussels from yesterday so that works, we can just throw that in.”  So we did.  We worked on our respective ingredients.  “It smells so good!”  The problem was, that after we put the butter with the onions and I poured in maybe way too much white wine (“Do you think that’s too much?”  “Nahh.  I think I used that much last time.  I’ve made it twice!” *holds up wine bottle for proportion gauging*), we tried the onions and well, they were oddly, sour.  I promptly freak out.  R asks, “Is it supposed to be sour?”  And I’m of course like, “I don’t think so…  Uh oh…. They taste weird!”  So the rest of the night before the soup was done was punctuated with “Do you think something was bad?  Maybe it’s just the wine.  Maybe… wait hold on…”  “Was the butter bad?” R hypothesizes.  We try the other batch of onion that had been stir-fried in butter.  “These taste fine though…”  says R.  I’m still not convinced.  “How long have you had the butter?”  “Um…… I can’t remember….. since the beginning of the year?”  “Uhhhh”  I flounce over to my computer and start Googling, commonly known in the psychological world as “Seeking Reassurance”.  R happily chomps away.  “How long does butter last in the fridge?”  I get a multitude of answers ranging from weeks to months.  Salted butter lasts much longer than unsalted.  I have unsalted butter.  Uh oh.  R is still chomping down on her meal.  “Maybe it’s just the wine.”  We then taste test the white wine (Yes I let R have a spoonful of it even though she’s underage, is that bad?) and I think to myself, “Hm, this tastes a lot better than I imagined it to.”  R says “I think it’s the wine, it has a sour aftertaste”  “Maybe….”  “If I feel sick tomorrow we’ll know why!”  R chews happily away.  I still feel uneasy so I toss the second half of my pasta and try to finish the salad.  Then we proceed to finish making our butternut squash soup.  “Should we rinse the onions?”  “I don’t know…. I guess….”  R proceeds to rinse the onions.  I say ouch a few times as we scoop out the roasted squash, and wince as I try to wash a tupperware lid without splashing on myself (they have weird ridges!).  We scoop the soup paste into a blender to make it smooth (I gingerly shove it in and try not to spill).  In the end, the butternut squash soup was a success documented by R’s trusty phone camera.

Cooking.  It makes me feel dirty, and if my ingredients aren’t absolutely fresh, I tend to go on paranoid Google searches.  “R, how do I get myself to like cooking more?” and then a few seconds later, “What should we make next?”  (Yeah okay I don’t really hate cooking).  I’m so embarrassed.

The second funny thing of the day was that the B suggested he wear bells so that I’m better prepared for when he comes in because every time he says “Hey” I get startled.  Brilliant.  It made me think about the priests going into the tabernacle.  I’ll have to mention that next time.

Frustrations and Theories

I am frustrated right now.  This is not supposed to be a ranting blog but something has struck a chord within me, in the negative sense (what’s the figurative way to say that?).  These are the times where I can’t reconcile the theories and ideals in my mind and in the Word with what is present within me and in the world.  And it makes me so frustrated.  It is similar to that quote by Gandhi that goes, “I like your Christ.  I do not like your Christians.  They are so unlike your Christ.”  If we are going to talk about growth and transformation, oh, how I long to see it manifested.  I don’t understand, whether it is real or not.  I know some who were born with good dispositions, who grow to have the same good disposition, and then there are some who maybe do not have quite so good dispositions.  I am not content to live my selfish life in the same way that I have always lived it, but neither am I content to try to become a better person and pass that off as transformation (However I should say that I am not against becoming a better person for the good of society).  So that leaves me with one question, is transformation real or is it not?  And if it is real, what does it look like?  Some, like Paul, have a dynamic salvation, that changes them drastically within days and weeks.  It is more difficult for me to see any sort of gradual transformation in Paul (not that there wasn’t any, I just can’t see it), from the Word.  Christ was born a Godman and while He experienced baptism, I don’t recall Him ever needing to go through a process of “organic salvation”.  So what examples do I have before me?  I did not know Watchman Nee nor Witness Lee on a personal level, though I have read the biography of Watchman Nee and while I enjoyed it much, I do wish there had been one written by a certain M.E. Barber who spiritually mentored him while he was a young man through her pointed discipleship.  I have many spiritual mothers and fathers, but I still do not know their stories, and even if I knew them, there is nothing quite like seeing a caterpillar make its cocoon and burst out of it as a butterfly yourself.  Transformation!  What is it?  I’m a skeptic, I’m afraid.

The second item is, where do pet peeves come from?  Are they inborn or are they through nurturing?  Today my friend asked if it was okay if she eat a certain item in my room, and I winced.  I said “Well.. if you eat it on a plate okay.  And not on the bed. I’d actually feel better if you eat it on the desk.  Sorry..  OCD.”  She understood, as all my friends come to understand, that there are certain things I am particular about– one is the cleanliness of my sleeping quarters, (though this morning I joyously ate breakfast on my cot in the hotel because I could).  “Oh right, you’re a germaphobe.”  Is the usual response I receive after I explain what bothers me.  “Yeah.. I know, I’m weird”.

Today I successfully held a toddler for a little while, besides S, and fed him his oatmeal,  all without making him cry!  Happy day.  I have always been nervous about holding little ones because I feel like so many of them will get anxious and start crying.  And then that makes me worried and sad for them.  And now I know why Mothers always complain about how heavy their children are and how they are getting workouts.  Workout, indeed.

Sleep is calling, as usual.

I saw a certain older sister this morning who blew me a kiss across the aisle and smiled a smile that brightened up my morning.  So many dear grandmothers to admire.