Today's post is about S U B S T I T U T I O N.

If you know me well, you are aware that for the last two years Jim has been between churches and we have been just barely surviving. We have fought all sorts of battles, from small ones like cockroaches to large ones like almost losing our cars. Somehow, through the grace of God and our wonderful families, we have stayed in the game.

Some day there might be a book about this wilderness experience. For now, I am content to share some ideas with you, my blog-audience...blaudience. Hey, cool word! I want to give you a recipe that I made today, then tell you about substituting when you don't have the things you think you need.

Here's the original recipe: SLOW COOKER LENTIL SOUP (from the newspaper) serves 6-8

2 cups dried green lentils, rinsed & drained
8 cups canned chicken broth
1 meaty ham bone
1 1/2 cups chopped carrots
1 1/2 cups chopped celery
1 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/2 tsp thyme, crumbled
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1 bay leaf
2 cups thinly sliced spinach

Combine all ingredients except spinach in slow cooker. Cover, cook on low 8 hrs. (high, 4 hrs) Remove ham bone and bay leaf; discard leaf. Remove & chop meat from ham bone; discard bone. Stir meat & spinach into soup; cover and cook until spinach is wilted, about 2 minutes.

Okay, that's what my little card said. And as a newlywed, I would have made sure I had every single ingredient on hand. But after 35 years, plus the lessons God's been teaching me, I surveyed my almost bare cabinets and "made do."

I never have ham bones...plus, ham is too salty for every day. (New Year's Day, maybe) I had a cup of cooked chicken, so I threw that in plus extra buillon since the bone would have added flavor. Didn't have much celery. Figured up the total amount of chopped veggies, then substituted extra carrots for my lack of celery. Had half a bag of wilting spinach salad; picked all the slimy ones out and got enough for my soup. Only had one cup of lentils, so substituted my last cup of brown rice. AND...Jim just told me it's the best soup I've ever made. It's called "Cooking outside the Box." Hey--another great book title!

Labels: Recipe

I went to The Green House, an Alzheimer home where I play every other week. I had been there on July 4th, and we sang patriotic songs. (I played and sang, and they nodded, or mouthed the words, or listened with eyes peacefully closed.) One lady struck me as being better than I had ever seen. She usually pushed a walker around, and had bright, inquisitive eyes, though she never spoke or sang a word. She usually couldn't sit still, which caused a couple other ladies anxiety as they thought she was going to fall. On the Fourth she was walking around with no walker! I was happy for her and commented to the helper what a great change.

Went back the 18th. Our group had shriveled to only 4 ladies, and I asked where Ms. M was. The LPN on duty waved her hand in a circle by her ear, which I always thought meant "went bonkers." When she could see I didn't understand her signal, she gestured toward the ceiling. Light dawned. I whispered, "You mean she went to Heaven?" She nodded.

I found myself uncomfortably shocked. I know these people are close to the end of their lives, and I have noticed they love songs about Heaven. But it simply never occurred to me someone would die on my watch. I mean, I had just talked and smiled with her, held her hands and commented how cold they were, patted her little skinny arm that was purple with bruises from falling, and told her to be careful. She had gazed at me; she was all there. And suddenly she was no more. I wonder, as I've heard some say, if she had started "breathing the air of Heaven", which would explain why she was suddenly walking without her trusty walker.

I only know it shook me up. Here, and then GONE! We all are terminal; we say that glibly and yet don't believe it for a moment. But it is true. I'm not grieving for Ms. M...I know she is dancing and bopping around, able to clap, smile and sing again! But I am more conscious of trying to "live like you're dying." Trying to make each day count, saying "I love you" often; even communicating with God more.

Jim always says he wants to go to Heaven, but not on the next load. I have so many family and friends who aren't ready, I could never pray "Come quickly, Lord Jesus." But I must live ready.








Today's fascinating subject is Meatloaf. My Mom gave me a recipe from her Mom, years ago when I first left home. When I cooked for Jim for the first time (just dating, not engaged yet) I made this meatloaf. Unfortunately, the oven in the little apartment where I lived, up on the third floor of an old, decrepit building in Marion, Indiana, that little oven had seen better days, and knew it. While I was happily talking to Jim out in the sitting room, (you couldn't be in your room with a guy!) that little oven burned my precious meatloaf. I was so disappointed, Jim kept eating it to tell me how wonderful it was. I knew right then he was husband material.

Here is the original recipe:

2 pounds ground beef (I use 1 lb. beef, 1 lb. ground turkey to make it leaner)
6 pieces toast, broken into tiny bits
1 small onion chopped or diced
2 eggs slightly beaten
1 can cream of mushroom soup
salt & pepper, optional (there is plenty of salt in the soup)

Mix well and form a loaf. Bake 30 min. at 425, then 60 min. at 375.

OKAY, that's the original recipe. It is fantastic. I have been experimenting, after watching the Food Network's "Alton Brown". Take a baking pan and line with foil, then make a double-thick pad of foil a little larger than your meatloaf. Punch holes through it with an ice pick so heat can hit the bottom of the loaf. Set a baking rack or cookie rack on top of your foil-lined pan, (spray with Pam) then place your meatloaf on its foil pad on top. Alton recommends one hour at 400 degrees. THE GLAZE: I use an old-fashioned glaze my BH&G cookbook taught me years ago; mix together about a third cup of ketchup with a tablespoon or so of Karo syrup. Paint this on the meatloaf the last 15 minutes, because the sugar will tend to burn.

Now. Try that meatloaf, that way, and let me know if it isn't absolutely fantastic.







ANGIE - By Patricia Walls Perrelli

Today is my daughter, Angela Rose Walls’, birthday. I am using Marg’s blog to take the opportunity to write a little tribute to her.

Angie made her appearance 27 years ago on a hot, sultry July day in Wauseon, Ohio – a small town in northwest Ohio. I was in labor 36 hours with her because my doctor was on vacation and the only other doctor on call was out playing cards and drinking with his buddies Thursday night and the nurses didn’t want to bother him. They let me go all night with back labor every three minutes until the doctor was sober enough in the morning to come in. I finally delivered Angie at 12:24 pm on Friday, July 17, 1981.

We had picked out the name Jessica Lee if we had a girl but looking at our baby, she just didn’t look like a Jessica. I don’t know how someone can or cannot look like a name but it just didn’t fit her. She had a round face with a dimple in the middle of her chin. One ear flopped over endearingly like a little rabbit. Since the hospital was small, there were only about 8 babies in the nursery and Angie was the only girl. So when the nurses lined up the babies in the viewing window, they put Angie in the middle surrounded on both sides by the boys. She has spent the rest of her life surrounded by the male species! The nurses kept saying what an angel she was so Angela she became.

I was so thrilled to finally be a Mommy. That’s the only ambition I can ever remember having – to get married and have children. As a child, I had loved playing house with my sisters and our dolls. We would spend hours dressing up our dolls and taking them to “church” which was on the steps leading from our basement playroom up to the kitchen. The steps were the pews and we lined up our dolls for church while one of us girls preached a sermon at the bottom of the steps. Our dolls always acted up in church and we had to take them out to spank them. I wonder what life experience we got that from?!

When Angie was a few days old, I remember sitting in my bed holding her and I just started crying because I loved her so much and felt such a responsibility that I had brought this living creature into the world and now I was accountable for her – for her physical well-being and to help determine where her soul would spend eternity. It was overwhelming.

I’ll share a couple of my memories of Angie which I hold dear. One was when she was in the brownies. She was going through a difficult time of low self confidence and negative self image so when it came time to sell Girl Scout cookies, I determined to help her sell the most cookies and get an award. We sold cookies like crazy. She stood up on a table in the cafeteria at Asbury Seminary and announced her wares, we went door to door, we sold outside WalMart…in the end she had sold the most cookies in the county. I don’t remember the exact number of boxes but it was in the hundreds and I had cookies stacked everywhere in our little apartment. Of course you-know-who then had to go deliver all those cookies. But Angie got an award in front of all the Brownies and Girl Scouts in the county and she was so proud, all the hard work was worth it.

Another memory is when Angie was in the sixth grade. She tried out and won a lead in the sixth grade Christmas play. Angie played Mrs. Claus. She not only had her lines memorized flawlessly, but she had everyone else’s lines memorized too and could prompt them when they faltered. Aunt Liz came to Kentucky that night as a surprise to see her perform and once again, we were so proud of our little Angie Baby!

As the years have passed, Angie has grown into an incredibly beautiful, loving, young woman. She persevered to finish college even though it took her 7 and a half years and many people doubted that she would ever finish. She has struck out on her own in an exciting adventure, moving to Florida to pursue new friendships and to start a career. I miss her so much but thank goodness for cell phones and email. We keep in touch daily.

Angie and I have had our differences and misunderstandings over the years but in the last several years, we have grown so close that I now feel like she is one of my best friends, as well as my daughter. She is always there to listen and sympathize when I have a problem, she gives wonderful clothes and makeup advice, and I know she loves me unconditionally. And I don’t think one could ask more from a daughter than that. Unless it would be to get married and give me grandchildren.

Angie, I love you and I am so proud to be your Mom!





HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANGIE WALLS! This is my sister Trish with her only daughter, lovely Angela Rose. She's a graduate of Asbury College, now living in Miami and looking for work worthy of her lovely self! We love you, Angie! May this be the beginning of a fabulous new year! Her birthday was actually July 17, yesterday.

Labels: family

This is Mother's Day 2007. I guess we do look something alike, don't we? My son Hyperion had bought us both bears and we are posing on sister Trish's back deck in full Kentucky sun.

My mom was always much stronger than I ever imagined growing up. Until I had children of my own, it never occurred to me how difficult it would be to have your husband gone in ministry all the time, and you left home with four girls and no money. That generation believed firmly that the mom should stay home with the kids, and find ways to live on one salary.

My parents found classy second hand shops, like one in the basement of a church in Columbus. I still remember the nice dresses I found there. Remember, we didn't have Walmart back then, with access to cheap clothes and shoes. Mom's favorite store was Lazarus, in downtown Columbus, but she would wait till they had their huge sales. Their policy was "Lazarus will never be undersold." And buddy, did she ever hold them to it.

My high school years we lived in her old family home in Findlay, Ohio. A farmhouse built in the 1880's, it had the gingerbread on the front porch, the high ceilings, pocket doors and lots of woodwork painted white that are so typical of that era. The green carpet in the front rooms was old and getting bare, with the plain floor boards beginning to show through. I will never forget the day that Mom decided to let us all color the carpet. We found green crayons the right color (don't believe we even had markers back then...probably 1964 or so) and had a ball coloring the bare spots in the carpet. Somehow she made that fun and an adventure, and I don't believe any of us realized we were "poor"!!!

Mom NEVER ONCE grumbled about being left home with the kids while Dad traveled in meetings, coming home every three weeks or so. The call God had placed on my Dad's life affected Mom just as well, and she accepted her part in the plan without complaint. I don't know how she made the money stretch. At that time ministers were not well paid; evangelists were even below them on the salary pole. Somehow she kept us all going, raising us with dignity and self-respect and CLASS. That's the word. Mom had CLASS.

She used the good china and silver on birthdays. She let us choose our very favorite foods for our birthday supper. She arranged surprises or parties behind our back. We always went for ice cream after school concerts; she told us SHE had done the same thing with her folks. Dad missed most of the PTA events and school conferences and concerts; Mom never missed a one. She was a "church widow" for many years, getting the four of us there ON TIME, handing out gum or mints when all four of us reached out our hands to her in the middle of the sermon. Matter of fact, she STILL does that, only it's grand kids too now, reaching out their hands for mints.

I'm realizing how impossible it is to put into words a life of over eight decades, lived totally for God and her family. We all know she prays for us daily, and believes the best for us, one and all. Dad even beat her to Heaven, getting to go when he was only 60. She used to warn him not to go off and die on her, leaving her with all these children. Of course, he didn't pay any attention to her and did the very thing she dreaded. For 25 more years she has carried on without him, doing her duty, faithfully supporting her family and the Ohio State Buckeyes.

Mom, Happy Birthday from all of us, your four girls, their husbands, and your 8 grandchildren. We all love you and think you are amazing. And yes, you'll probably outlive us all, God willing.

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

When Sarah, my mom, was 21 years old, her Dad became sheriff of Hancock County, Findlay, Ohio. The family moved to the old jail building, a huge stone edifice that looked like all the other government buildings of the 20's. My Grandma Cooper became the cook for the prisoners, and for the first time in history, the prisoners of that town ate better than the righteous citizens. Grandma was German and a FANTASTIC cook.

When Mom went to Chicago to college, she met a young country boy from a dirt-poor southern Ohio farm. He was a fire-ball preacher, out-spoken, funny and a lover of hunting, making wooden gun stocks, and literature. Mom was a reserved, quiet, well-behaved Scotch/German musician who had grown up in the city and loved opera and the Ohio State Buckeyes. Totally, totally opposite, so of course they fell in love.

After college and marriage, Mom and Dad traveled from church to church doing what was called "evangelism". They had VERY LITTLE MONEY (you don't go into the ministry if your main goal is to make money), so their first home was a bedroom upstairs in the county jail! When little Margie was born in 1951, guess where her first home was? You're right, the county jail! I've gotten a lot of mileage out of that.

But let me go back to the year before, 1950. Dad went up to Michigan for a revival and also went hunting in the deep woods with several friends. He had orange on, saw his friend take aim at him, hollered "Don't shoot, it's me!!" and got shot anyway. The bullet went clean through his shoulder, and the friends panicked and stuffed his wound with KLEENEX. The Doctor said later it wasn't the bullet that almost killed him, but the bits of Kleenex.

Wow. And Mom was 8 months pregnant with me! She had to travel up there, stay in some nice church people's home, travel on the bus every day to the hospital, and contemplate being a widow before she would be a mother. But, God came through for them and used a grouchy, agnostic doctor to pull Daddy through. When Daddy tried to thank him, the old doc brushed him off. "It wasn't me at all. It was the 'man upstairs'." And Mom lived through that! What a trouper.

Tomorrow - "Coloring the Carpet"

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

Sarah Cooper lived in Findlay, the home of Cooper Tires and Marathon Oil. As a little girl I sat in the famous sandwich shop, Wilson's, and looked up at the wall opposite where it said COOPER in big blue letters. I thought my Grandpa Cooper owned that big company. I will not tell you how old I was when I learned we were no relation!

Anyway, little Sarah was born the last of three girls, eight and four years older than she. At night those mean sisters told her she was their "little stove" so she would let them put their big, cold feet on her! Despicable. I'm sure I never did anything like that to my 3 little sisters.

None of us are very artistic in the painting/drawing category. Our gifts are more in the music/writing line. But Sarah as a little girl had a blackboard, and one day tried to draw a bunny. It looked EXACTLY like Little Orphan Annie's dog Sandy. Mom was so proud of that drawing, she wouldn't let anyone erase it for MONTHS. One day her Mom finally cleaned off the board, and Sarah had a conniption fit. The only artistic thing she ever drew, and it was gone. That has been 80 years ago, and she still tells the story pathetically, as one of the great tragic moments of her life.

Tomorrow - going to jail.

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

Hope everyone had a great holiday. I played in two Alzheimer's units on the Fourth, singing as many patriotic songs as I could find, including the songs for Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines. Wow, what words! And - the word "caissons" has been changed to "the Army goes rolling along." So if you don't know what caissons are, it doesn't matter any more. :)

Today I am beginning a week of little stories about my wonderful mom. She was born Sarah Margaret Cooper in the town of Findlay, Ohio, eighty some years ago.
(You're not supposed to ever really tell a lady's age.) The most traumatic thing that happened to my mom as a child...she was run over by a car! Evidently she pulled away from big sister Ruth's hand, wanting to cross the street by herself. This was in the twenties, so cars weren't heavy steel like now. She was cross-eyed for a bit, and remembers wearing a patch on one eye. Tomorrow's story will be about "the little stove" and Orphan Annie's Sandy.

THE SCORE

Name:Marg Marshall

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"Fight discouragement like the very devil himself." ~ Morton Dorsey

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