View from the Prairie Box

I’ve been thinking a lot about waiting recently. Perhaps this is due to the number of friends in my circles who have been waiting through several long months of engagement periods. Waiting to get married can be pretty taxing! So here’s my question:

What are you waiting for?

Last Friday night, one Miss Renae Carlson looked at her cell phone and noted it read that it read “0 days, 18 hours and 52 minutes” until she became Mrs. Renae Morehead. Here is my second, somewhat related question:

What would you like to experience in 0 days, 18 hours and 52 minutes?

**Note that the answers can be the same or different, doesn’t matter. Feel free to comment anonymously if you’d like.

Trying to take a “normal” photograph of my little brother is impossible. As evidence, I present to you these pics taken on vacation in June where Andrew is practicing his best Duh/Constipated face. My lovely sister-in-law Kristin had much better luck in getting good shots. But I couldn’t post those here… No way. This post is Andrew’s penance. ; )

Our vegetable garden got off to a late start this year, but Jeremy (my resident garden hero) has cared for it admirably and now it’s really in full bloom. We have one cucumber that looks almost ready to be plucked from the trellis, and a few peppers (jalepeno, when I thought we planted bell) that are almost full grown. There are a few peas in full-sized pods and we already picked a handful of spicy-hot radishes. You might be thinking, aren’t radishes a cool-weather crop? Yes, they are, but we took our chances and planted them late as well. A few green cherry tomatoes are on the vine, whereas the full-sized tomatoes haven’t grown yet. Our bean plants are looking fabulous and bushy thanks to Brook who sprayed something on them to stop the bugs. Don’t ask me what she sprayed, but it seems to be doing the trick. Finally, the sunflowers… This year we planted three seeds and we have three magic plants reaching for the sky. I’ll post some pictures in a few weeks.

I don’t know what made me think I should hug this not-really-a-friend-but-not-just-an-acquaintance-either that I haven’t seen in 9+ years, but oh yes, I went for the hug just as he was extending his hand for a decent handshake. Hm. It was what some might call an “awkward moment”. Good times, good times.

The question “How are you doing emotionally?” intimates that there is a distinct possibility that something may not be right emotionally. And though I field how-are-you’s multiple times a day, when my physician, the guy who’s supposed to be looking out for my general physical health, asks about my emotional status, well, I get a bit overwhelmed.

The answer is that I’m actually doing quite well. But it hasn’t always been this way. In the past year I’ve gone through many rough spots and dark days. Emotionally, the past year has been a challenge. So while I was honestly answering my doctor’s question, sadness brewed up from deep within my soul and I worked hard to force tears from staining my dry eyes. A few steps away from the office, however, and once in the elevator, I reflected on the overwhelming emotions, the “wow, my life really sucks” thoughts that were beginning to boil over.

It wasn’t until I reached my car that I remembered a few key truths that keep me grounded. One, that this life is temporary and my dealings with diabetes and arthritis are very real reminders of that. In the most odd of odd ways, my frustrating physical condition is a blessing. Granted, I hate both diabetes and arthritis and I feel very, terribly, enormously sorry for myself that I have to deal with one, let alone both, of them, but still… I am blessed because they remind me that heaven is just around the corner and Jesus’s grace is enough to sustain me through this phase of life. Someday soon my joints and pancreas will be perfectly restored and, from what I hear, I’ll be doing some serious dancing on golden streets. Incredible really.

The second thought that keeps from me floating away in my own personal bubble of misery is that many, many people have it worse than me. Just the other day I read an article in the newspaper about this little girl with a disease that ages her prematurely (progeria). Though I’m sure this little girl isn’t helped by my pity, I still felt incredibly sorry that she never had a typical childhood and probably will not live to see age 20. My family and loved ones have been remarkably spared from physical pain and misfortune—and I praise God for that. I also praise God for blessing me with a husband who can counter my complaints with, “Oh yeah? I’ll trade you no hands for diabetes for a day” (and then we discuss what we’d do in that particular 24 hour span). I praise God for my beautiful and amazing daughter, the girl with an immune system so fabulous that even the smallest of cuts seem to disappear faster than they should. I praise God for my spirit, which, though affected by physical ailments, doesn’t remain bruised for long. I praise Him for 70 degree weather, for the greenness of grass, for the white clouds in the brilliant blue sky this morning.

“How are you doing emotionally?”

Pretty darn good.

104 degrees means the park across the street is as barren as it is on a winter’s day where windchills are -10.

104 degrees means it’s both hot and muggy, according to one of my favorite two year olds.

104 degrees means that, while Livia slept at Nana and Papa’s last night, Jeremy slept on the couch and dragged a mattress for me to the cooler first floor for respite from the heat upstairs.

104 degrees means that simply walking to the garage and getting in a steamy automobile ensures a family drenched with sweat.

104 degrees means seeking air-conditioned activities for amusement on a lovely Saturday in July.

Here’s hoping it’s cooler in your neck of the woods, my beloved blogging friends. Please keep blogging… Reading all your posts is one of my favorite air-conditioned activities. ; )

Laugh-out-loud funny for cat owners. (Thanks, Jason, for the link.)

My new obsession is creating summer desserts, namely ice cream. I made Chocolate from a mix last week, Peaches & Cream from scratch over the weekend, then Strawberry today. I, being a good Lawton child, would NEVER EVER buy a fruity ice cream from an ice cream store—the David Lawton clan has an undying love for all things chocolate—but I’ve discovered that homemade ice cream is entirely different and so far my peach and strawberry ice creams have been dee-licious. Mmm, mmm good.

Here’s my newest recipe, altered from this one at allrecipes.com:

Strawberry Ice Cream

1, 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
6.5 cups whole milk, divided
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup sugar, divided
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 pint strawberries

Blend and strain about half of the strawberries with 1/2 cup of milk and 1/2 cup sugar, set aside. Chop/mash the rest of the berries (I like to use my Pampered Chef chopper) and add to blended strawberries.

Combine the rest of the milk, heavy cream, condensed milk and the rest of the sugar in a large pot and heat just to a boil (scald) on medium setting, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and add vanilla and salt. Cool mixture either on the stove or pour into ice cream can and refrigerate.

Once milk mixture has cooled (at least to room temperature), add strawberries and freeze according to manufacturer’s directions.

Yield: one gallon

Ah, the potential pitfalls of mobility.