Italian Sausage and Pepper Pasta

This is freakin' amazing. EAT IT!

1 package fresh Italian sausage, mild or hot (your preference) I like Johnsonville.
Evoo
4 cloves garlic, chopped or grated
1 whole white onion, chopped
1 each yellow, green, orange, and red bell peppers, sliced into thin strips
1 small can tomato paste
1 8 0z can tomato sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
Fettucine or other hearty pasta
Italian cheese blend
Garlic bread (I like Pepperidge Farm)

Preheat the oven for the bread and put on a big pot of salted water to boil.

Prick the sausages with a fork or knife and put them in a skillet with about half an inch of water and 2 tbsp of EVOO. Turn the heat onto medium-high and bring it to a boil. Then turn it down to a simmer. After the water boils off, the sausages will get brown and crispy in the oil.

In a saucepan, heat about 2 tbsp of EVOO and add the garlic and onions till they get soft. Then add the peppers strips and cook and stir till they are tender. Then add the tomato paste and about 1/2 a cup of water to the pan. Stir till the tomato is diluted and evenly spread about the pan. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Then add the tomato sauce and mix it all up. Bring to a boil, then turn down to a simmer and cover.

When you put the pasta in to boil, put the bread in the oven. Drain the pasta when it's al dente or just shy of.

When everything is all cooked, put the pasta in a baking pan and toss gently with most of the sauce. Nestle the sausages down into the saucey pasta and pour the remaining sauce on top. Cover the whole thing with lots of cheese. Take the bread out and turn off the oven. Then put the baking pan in the oven until the cheese all melts.

Take out of the oven and serve with yummy bread alongside. Enjoy!

I Am the Cooker of Delicious Things.

I think that'll be the new title for when I post recipes.

Last night we had Oven-Fried Pork Chops, which I can't take credit for. The recipe is from Better Homes & Gardens. On the side we had mashed taters with feta and California blend with garlic butter. Mmmmmm.

Ok. So you start with some boneless pork chops that are about 3/4 of an inch thick, and do an egg wash with an egg, a little milk, and some pepper. (Why is pork naturally salty? This is a question that just occurred to me. I think I'll Google it.) Then, you roll the chops in some dry herb stuffing mix that you've crushed down fine. In a 13 x 9 pan with a little puddle of butter on the bottom, you put the chops and cook them on 425* for about ten minutes, turn, and cook for 10-15 more. Internal temp should be 160*.
For the potatoes, I just boiled some red potatoes and mashed with butter and chicken stock, then added about a half a cup of feta. Next time I'll add it sooner so the cheese melts a little better.
California blend = fresh broccoli and cauliflower florets with baby carrots, steamed/boiled in a little bit of chicken stock, then tossed with garlic butter (heat equal parts EVOO and butter on low with some chopped garlic), salt, and pepper. Emily even said the veggies were the best part, and usually she acts like I'm trying to kill her when I tell her to eat her broccoli.

Tonight, we had Pesto Chicken sandwiches on ciabatta bread. Aaron wanted my version of chicken cordon bleu, which entails provolone in place of Swiss and prosciutto in place of ham, but prosciutto costs an arm and a freakin' leg at Wal-mart, so that was a no-go. They did have day-old ciabatta bread on sale, so I bought some of that, fresh spinach, provolone, and jarred pesto. I was thinking of the Barefoot Contessa's pesto bread where she spreads it on ciabatta and then toasts it. So I cut the chicken breasts in half longwise (to make two thin pieces from one breast piece) and salted and peppered them and grilled them. I cut the loaf of ciabatta in half the same way and spread the pesto on it. Next time, I will probably toast the bread a bit before assembling the sandwich, but I didn't this time. I layered spinach on top of provolone on the bottom piece of bread, placed the chicken breasts, and topped them with tomatoes and more provolone. Then, place under the broiler to melt the cheese and put the top piece on and cut the whole thing into servings. They were big Schlotzsky's-style sandwiches. I served them with a side of fries. So good! I also might, next time, use the pesto beaten with an egg to bread some chicken (as in, dip the bread in the pesto/egg and then the breadcrumbs and then fry.) If I do, I'll let you know how it went. If you try it first, let me know!

Thanks for reading, and happy eating! PS, both these meals took about half an hour to make and serve.

No More Berger Babies

When I got married, I wanted six kids. Then I had one, and my pregnancy seemed eternal and I was SO. SICK, and I thought, okay, how about not six. Then I had another, and I wasn't so sick, but my body aches were awful. At the end, my sciatica was so bad I couldn't even walk across my living room without leaning on something. I was 22. I thought, maybe we'll have two more. Then, when my second baby turned out to be super clingy and allergic to sleeping through the night, I tried to get Aaron to have a vasectomy. He refused; he said we were too young and we'd regret it. Wouldn't you know he was right? Don't you just hate when your husband is right? So a year passes and I want to try for another. We do, and we lose the baby. (They say you can start trying for a baby right off birth control, and maybe some women can, but both times I have, I've miscarried. But I digress.) So while Aaron was in Iraq, we both did some serious thinking. We had two wonderful children. They were both potty-trained. They were both weaned. We had a rhythm, and a pattern, and were we sure we wanted to mess around with that? But I wanted a homebirth. I wanted to cloth diaper a baby from the beginning. Neither of which is a good reason to have a baby, in my opinion. I didn't want to have another BABY just to say I'd had a HOMEBIRTH, you understand? I did a lot of thinking, a lot of soul-searching, and I just knew, knew that there was another child waiting for us to get on the ball so he or she could join our family. So then I had to talk Aaron into it. I knew that I wouldn't be able to feel peaceful with our family knowing that it wasn't complete. So we got pregnant, and from the beginning, it kicked my butt! At 5 weeks, I had a staph infection and had to be put on antibiotics that made me violently ill. I had to fight with the nurses to change my medication because they kept telling me it was just morning sickness. Trust me, I could tell the difference. But, lucky me, my morning sickness started up really soon thereafter. And it was AWFUL. So. Sick. I lay on the couch for weeks. At 13 weeks, we moved. I was useless. And the whole time, I thought THIS IS MY LAST PREGNANCY. Everyone told me I was silly and I would want more, 26 is too young to be finished with your family. Seems like they were all ignoring the fact that I'd NEVER felt done before and that 26 is plenty old enough when you've got three kids! As soon as Jack was born, my family felt perfect. He's the candles on the birthday cake that is the Bergers. Still, every so often I think how much I love having a newborn. How I feel like a goddess for about a month when I'm round and not puking but not a house yet. How his birth was so empowering and I want to do it again! And then I remember the puking, the pain, the sleeplessness, etc.
I had a scare last week. I was about 4 days late, and although I've been keeping pretty close track of my cycles and this was only my 3rd cycle since getting my period back (so it could very well be irregular still) I bought a test. I spent a couple days asking myself, "What if I am pregnant?" And the answer would come, "So you'll have a baby." But I didn't WANT a baby. I have a baby. He's only a year old. IF we had another, I'd want it to be in a year or so. But do I want another baby at all? I think the true answer to that comes in the two minutes after you've peed on the stick and before the blue lines show up. And my answer was ABSOLUTELY NOT! I truly, truly, am done making tiny people. The ones I've made are so great! And they keep me very busy. And, more importantly, I don't feel like there's anyone else missing. I've never envisioned Jack as a big brother. I've never seen myself pregnant again. I am done having babies. I realize now that there are phases to marriage and child-having. I've spent the last 9 years making babies and nursing babies and changing babies and planning the next baby. Of course, watching them grow, helping them grow, and all the blessings that come with that. But now, I look toward my family's future and I don't see anymore babies, only big kids. I'm so excited about this phase! This new phase of only big kids, and all the fun THAT entails. I can't wait.

Knitting Anxiety

I wanted to learn to knit and crochet. When I was a little girl, I remember watching my mom turn balls of yarn into comfy, cozy blankets, hats, and other yummy things. I thought she was a magician. When I was 12, she tried to teach me, and I think it took about 2 days for me to throw the needles down in disgust and walk away. Knitting was for old ladies and I was not an old lady.

This summer, I decided to give it a go. It took some doing, but I am now confident in my emerging yarnworking skills.

Somewhat confident. Well, like, 35% of the time.

Okay, I have severe knitting anxiety. I have yet to cast-on a project and finish it without frogging at least two or three times. I have balls of yarn I've started a few times, made a little progress on, and then either (A) found a mistake too far back to really fix, or (B) realize this yarn is not right for this pattern or project. I have a decent stash, especially considering the big box of yarn my friend Jamie sent me. I do small projects here and there. For about 2 months there wasn't one day I didn't at least start a project. Now I got maybe a day or two in between. I've never really had a hobby. Something I did, was good at, and kept at. This is a hobby. I love it. LOVE IT. I'm completely addicted. I love yarn. I love hooks. I love needles. I love Ravelry, and I love Knitpicks, and I love the soft, yarny things I have created for my friends and loved ones.

Why did I want to learn to knit and crochet? I have this afghan. It's a ripple design, made with a super soft cotton yarn. It's white, pink, two shades of turquoise, and a cantaloupe color. When I was 12, I asked my mom to make it for me. She finished it just before my first year of girls' camp, and it went with me every year. It's not exactly square, and one end of it is slightly dingy and always has been. I don't know why, but I also don't care. I love that afghan. I will always love it. I will keep it until it's in tatters because my Mommy made it for me. I wanted that. I wanted to make things for people. For them to use the things I made and think, "I have this because Betsy loves me." I always feel loved when I wrap up in that afghan, and I want to send my love to the people I love. Like a tangible hug. And now I can, and it makes me incredibly happy. It may be cheesy, but I absolutely love it.

And it gives me anxiety. Is it normal to frog several times before really buckling down and finishing? And as I'm knitting, I think, "Is this the right color? Does this look alright? Do you think it'll fit? Do you think she/he'll like it?" And that's the big one. Will they like it? Will they know how much I loved crafting this? Will they appreciate the work and frustration and anxiety that's gone into it? Will they wear it? Will they follow the care instructions? Will it last? My poor sweet husband is so patient with my knitting insecurity. I don't know how he does it, but he always smiles and pats me on the head and tells me how great it is and how great I am at it. It's weird; I am confident that I am a good knitter. But I'm also incredibly insecure about it.

I love it, though. Maybe I'll become less anxious as I get better and more experienced. And maybe next blog I'll showcase all the great stuff I've made.

Nine Years

It's odd to think how different life was 9 years ago. Many things change in that amount of time, but I can't help but have 9/11 on the brain today. I think about it often, which I think is normal in my situation.
I was a senior in high school. I had been married 3 months and had my whole life in front of me. We had just moved out of Aaron's parents' house. I was an office aide, and I remember thinking it was an awful accident as I watched the news, the first tower in flames. When the second plane hit, my stomach dropped and I felt this horrible sense of dread. So many people died that day. Innocent people who were minding their own business, running the rat race, providing for their families. I wonder how many of them had fought with their spouses the night before. How many of them didn't kiss their kids goodbye? How many people's lives ground to a halt that day, as they found out their loved ones had been in the building or on the plane that will never be forgotten?
I think of the fear I felt, and I didn't lose anyone in the attack. I can't imagine the feelings of those who did. Aaron had class that ngiht, and I begged him not to go. I was shaken. My faith in humanity took a hard hard hit, and I thought this was the end of the world. I saw all my plans for the future going out the window. They'd bring back the draft. My husband would be sent to war and killed. I'd never have children. (Um, I was 18, and prone to panic.) Anyway, I needed my husband that night.
A lot of people compare it to Pearl Harbor, and it is like Pearl Harbor. The worst attack on US soil, a cowardly act that killed so many people who'd never done anyone wrong. I don't know the numbers, how many people flocked to recruiting offices on December 8, 1941, but I've heard that there were lines out the doors. It took some serious talking to convince my own husband not to sign up to be a gun-totin' infantryman that very day. He was angry, and he wanted to protect his country. I begged him. I cried. I told him I couldn't handle being an infantryman's wife and that I couldn't stay married to him if he joined the Army. I am not proud of that, but it was honest.
I can't believe where life has taken us since then. Even now, I am sometimes taken aback to realize I am married to a soldier! I always said I couldn't marry a military man, and I'm sure I wouldn't have looked twice at Aaron had he been in the Army or planning to sign up when we'd met.

Tonight, tomorrow, and every single day, my heart goes out to those who lost loved ones in the attack. My heart goes to those who lose their loved ones in the war, and to those who sacrifice so much time and so many life experiences with their families to fight for something they believe in, whether it's the war, their way of life, or even just their own families.

I don't know how to end this.

Mondayish

This past Monday was one of those moderately crappy Monday that Mondays are famous for. Nothing major, just one minor inconvenience or bit of bad news after another all pile on top of each other to make, well, a Monday. The capper was when, after taking all damn morning to talk myself into going up to the school to register the girls, I was told that the office was closed for the rest of the day. Well, we had planned on visiting the post library afterward anyway, so we headed there. Next to the library is this big grassy area with a few fat conifers casting deep shadow on the green velvet grass. The high that day was in the low 60's, and the sky was blue as blue could be, with interspersed marshmallow clouds. So we took off our shoes and played.

Emily mostly read her book and rolled her eyes at our nerdiness. It was such a beautiful day. I laughed with my children, and I was struck again, as I am most days, with a sense of deep gratitude that I am blessed enough to live in a place so full of natural beauty. Does life get any better than this? So, yeah, we turned this crappy Monday on its ear.

Education

School is starting up again on Thursday. My babiest girl is starting Kindergarten, and my big girl will be in 2nd grade. I can't believe it! Time goes so fast now, I sometimes don't know where the whole week has gone.
Today, we got to church about 45 minutes late. We caught a talk by a member of the congregation about how important education is. The Church teaches us that education is always beneficial. The only thing we take with us to the next life is what we have learned in this life, so anything we learn here can only be good. I remember once, talking to Aaron about my own education. I didn't have a clear goal, and I said that I didn't want to go to school and end up wasting an education, and he said that there was no such thing as a wasted education. I love that about him. Today, after church, he told me that he'd heard some political chatter about how college is not for everyone, and kind of discouraging people from going to school. Now, I know that college isn't for everyone, but I very much disagree with the notion that most people aren't cut out for a formal university education. I resent the notion that anyone's desire for an education is unfounded.
It's gotten me thinking. I always said that I'd go back to school once all our kids were in school. For a long time I didn't have a clear plan. Then, I did have a plan but I felt too overwhelmed to really think about what to do with it. When we moved to Georgia, Jack was brand new and most of that year is a complete blur. Plus, knowing that Georgia was temporary wasn't exactly motivating. Now, we're in Washington for at least three years. If Aaron ends up going Green to Gold, he's going to shoot for University of Washington (commonly referred to as U-Dub, of all things) here in Tacoma, which would give us 2 more years here. Now, I know I'll have Jack at home, but I have had a plan for about a year now, and I'm ready to make it happen. I'm jealous of all my friends who are taking online classes. I want to further myself. I've been thinking so much about my kids' education, which is a good thing, for sure, but I have been ignoring mine.
I want to be a Certified Professional Midwife. I want to help women birth at home if they so choose. I will need a Master's degree to do that. My Bachelor's will be in nursing. I want to become a nurse and work as a nurse for awhile in a hospital's ob ward, just because I think it'll only be beneficial to be well-rounded. I want to have the medical side and the natural side. After I've worked as a nurse for awhile, I'll go for my Master's and do whatever that entails to become a CPM. I think it's really really time for me to get back to school. I know there are programs for military dependents, and I'd like to take advantage of them, so anyone with experience in this area, your input will be really appreciated.
I'd also like to add that I want to become ASL certified in the process; that might be my first step. I love sign and I feel that having that certification will only help to make me more valuable in my field.

So that's my plan, and I'm ready to make it happen. Pray for me. It's been over five years since I stepped foot in a classroom that didn't have chairs that were only knee-high. I'm a little scared, a little nervous, and really really excited.

Wool Interlock Shorties

So about six months ago, I bought some 100% wool interlock and
then realized I was afraid of it and put it away. Last week I realized that all my PUL covers are uncomfortable for Jack and decided to switch completely to wool instead, so I figured now was as good a time as any to attempt some shorties for him. He's got 3 soakers; 2 Babyology and one JJBB interlock.
A long time ago, I believe my friend Juliea over at Gypsy Jewels posted a link to this blog that shows how to make a pair of pants out of a tee-shirt, and I tried it out and loved it. I was able to make a nice pair of stretchy pants with enough rise to cover his diaper! It was great.
So I was looking at Katrina's Pattern but I didn't know where my printer was to print out the template. I also found this blog with instructions on how to add an elastic waistband, so I kind of threw the t-shirt pattern and the elastic waistband together. The result was not as perfect as I'd like, but very decent for a first try, I'd say.
I used a pair of the baby's shorts to cut out the template, and left enough at the bottom for him to grow into. I also wanted them to be big enough to have some growing room. I also added an extra layer to the wet zone in the hopes that they would be nightworthy.


I cut a buttonhole in the waistband, as directed, and added some
3/4-inch non-roll elastic. They came out really well until the hem, which ruffled a bit more than I'd like. I think next time I'll just do the hem by hand.
I then used iDye in Gunmetal Grey, but I didn't have a pot and spoon that I could ruin, so I did them in the wash and they came out much lighter than anticipated:I still like them. They're really soft, and I threw them in the dryer and that was pretty awesome. I may re-dye them, but for now I'm pretty happy with them.

Here are some action shots:
I know where I made a few mistakes, so hopefully the next pair comes out lots better!

Randoms

I'm a terrible housekeeper. Most people know this about me and they either judge me for it or love me anyway. Maybe a combination of the two! Whenever we move, I re-pledge not to let it get that bad again, and each time I get a little better but not as good about it as I'd like. I refuse to be a slob. My house has been a disaster for weeks, and I just got up this morning and took on the downstairs. I made the girls help. They are really good little workers once you get them going! So the living room looks awesome, the play area just needs to be vacuumed, and then I'll tackle this kitchen! I hate a sticky floor. And all this with a sick baby and the worst cramps in the history of the universe. Now that it's served its purpose, I hate my uterus. I wish it would realize I'm done using it and it can just close up shop.

I miss my sister. She's 7 years older than I am, and she moved out when I was 8 or so. It was really hard to deal with that. I felt abandoned, and didn't realize at the time that it was exactly what she needed. Our home environment was not real conducive to her mental health. (That's a nice way of saying she was going nuts. Ha.) So for a long time, she kept treating me like a little kid, and I kept being afraid to stick up for myself because I was afraid she'd stop talking to me. I don't know why, I just was. When I got married, she came to the wedding and kept saying, "Someone's gonna be porkin' my little sister!" It was not at all embarrassing. So then when Aaron joined the Army, we were stationed three hours away from her, and I was so nervous about it. The funniest thing happened, though. She became my best friend. Something switched; maybe it was the fact that she went through a few years of nothing but changes, and needed someone and I was there. Maybe it was the fact that seeing me, living my life as an adult, made her realize that I was more than her baby sister. I don't know, but I do know that being stationed at Campbell was the best thing at the time, and I'm so grateful for the relationship we have now. I have other best friends, too; Laura, who I met at Campbell and is a darling, Tosha, who I've been friends with for ten years, Summer, who I met on Myspace and have only hooked up with twice but I can talk to her about anything and I know she'll listen and be supportive. But there is something very special about sharing blood with your best friend. I wish all sisters could know this bond we share. I miss her. While at Campbell we saw each other fairly often, every couple months at least. She drove down when Emily was burned. I drove up when Gracie was born. She drove down (about 18 times) when I was laboring with Jack. Almost got fired over it, even. Her manager told her, "It's not your responsibility to drive down there every time your sister 'thinks' she's in labor." And Teresa said, "You're obviously not a part of my family." Damn, I love her. I haven't seen her since June when Jack was 3 weeks old. I haven't seen my niece. They are coming to visit in November, and I'm so excited, but some days I miss them so much it's all I can do not to cry. My heart needs a seester hug.

November is also going to be amazing because my niece, Rhiannon, and her mother Patty are coming to visit me. I have never met either of them. Rhiannon's dad is my half-brother Josh, who I've also never met. Much drama entails that story so I won't get into it, but I can't freaking wait! Rhiannon is going to have her 17th birthday here. They're only coming for a few days, but I am so excited I could poop myself. It's going to be wonderful.

I miss Aaron when he's not here. It doesn't matter if it's a day, a week, or a month. (I can't say year because we've never been apart that long, but I have a feeling someday we will have to.) No matter how long he's gone, my heart aches till he's home. I don't feel whole without him.

I labeled and packed up all the girls' school supplies today. Still have to get Emily a pencil sharpener; that's the only thing we forgot. I can't believe she's in 2nd grade, and Libby is in Kindergarten. The time, she flies. Libby's so cute with her giant bag full of pencils and junk!
Also, I would sell my soul for some brownies right now. I'm not even kidding.

Grilled Chicken Caesar Salad Sandwiches

Boy, is it just me or is that really long? Anyway, this is kind of semi-homemade. My husband loves chicken Caesar but it doesn't really fill him up. So I thought I'd make sandwiches, using cheesy garlic bread. Sounds nom, right? Not, I wanted to marinate the chicken but I didn't really think the creamy Caesar dressing would work well. So I opened her up and sniffed it and then concocted a marinade. So these measurements are very approximate.

4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
EVOO
2-4 cloves chopped garlic
salt
cracked black pepper
1/4 cup or so of red wine vinegar (lemon juice would also be good, or a combination of the two)`
1/2-1 tsp dry mustard
1/4-1/2 tsp cumin
1 tbsp dried thyme, crushed
2-3 tsp onion powder
3 romaine hearts
Caesar dressing (I like Kraft.)
1-2 loaves frozen Pepperidge Farm garlic bread. I like the five cheese.

Whisk together everything between EVOO and the onion powder. Pour over the trimmed up chicken breasts in a gallon sized Ziploc bag and stick it in the fridge for a day or two. It helps if you stab a few holes in the chicken breasts (and it's fun too.) Also, put the bag in a big bowl so it doesn't leak chicken juice all over teh bottom of your fridge.
Preheat your oven to 375.
Preheat a grill pan over medium-high heat. If you use cast iron, it'll infuse some extra iron into your food! Just a lil tidbit. Make sure your grill is good and hot so you get those nice lines. Then, transfer your chicken titties to an oven-safe pan (I used a cast-iron skillet that's older than I am,) stick a meat thermometer in there that'll go off when the chicken gets to 175-180*. When the timer goes off, take teh chicken out to rest a bit and turn the oven up to 400. Put the bread in.
Wash the romaine and cut it up for the salad, and toss with the dressing in a big bowl. Now, I stopped here, cut up my chicken, and served the salad with the bread on the side. But you could also toast the bread for just a minute or two longer and then make giant, delicious sammitches. The choice is yours. Let me know if you try out this recipe!

August 2010

So I haven't blogged in what feels like a million years, but my good friend April requested an update, so here it is. I have started a few times, but felt somewhat anti-climactic. Moving can be that way. You have the stress and excitement of finding a place to live, reserving the moving company, and all that jazz and then once you get there it's just like, Oh. Well, time to unpack of a bunch of boxes now. Fun. But we are settling in. Slowly. I've actually kind of lost my forward momentum, which I attribute to two things. First, I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of CRAP that we own. I thought I'd gotten rid of a lot, but there is much more work to be done. Second, Aaron has been working almost nonstop the last few weeks, to prepare for a 3-week training mission that he leaves for on Tuesday. Hopefully, after that, we will get to enjoy what I think of as "real" SF Support, which is a lot of long weekends and short days. We like this. So my plan is to put all my boxes in the garage so the area I'm in all the time looks decent and then just unpacking a box a day. Eventually it will become necessary to get some storage bins and shelving for the garage. It'll be slow, but some momentum is better than none.
I love my house, by the way. We have this huge, bright, eat-in kitchen with tons of counterspace and cabinets. We have a living room and a play area, and each of the kids have their own room (even if Jack sleeps with us, haha.) Two full baths, and a half-bath downstairs. It's really nice, but I miss having a yard. Someday soon I hope to live somewhere that doesn't share walls with strangers.
Aaron's doing well in his job. When he first arrived at this unit, he was assigned as a section sergeant, which is pretty cool for a new sergeant. He was told that they thought he'd been an NCO for awhile, which doesn't surprise me. He's a natural-born leader. He's got three soldiers under him, and is responsible for 9 billion dollars worth of equipment. Half of it doesn't work, hence the long long days, but it's still pretty great. He seems to enjoy his colleagues for the most part, and being in the position to him seems to come naturally. I'm very proud of him. He worried, at first, that giving him a leadership position was to set him up, but it doesn't seem that way. They want to send him to WLC in October and then to the board shortly after that. We may see E-6 before long!

I am really enjoying the weather. It's so nice and cool here, and the overcast really doesn't even bother me. It's so cool that most of the homes up here don't have air conditioning. Growing up in Houston and then living the rest of my life in the South, this was completely unbelievable to me, but it's true that you don't really need it. There are so many trees here. The air tastes different. People are really nice, and there's a 10% LDS population, which is the most concentration I've ever experienced. It makes me more aware of myself and helps me to behave. :) I have met a few really nice people at church. I have adopted a practice: when I go to a new ward, I try and leave myself very open to impressions about people. In the past, when I've done this, and then followed the impressions I get, I am not disappointed. If I have the urge to say hello to someone, then I do it. I have a playdate scheduled for this week with a woman I was impressed to talk to. She seems very sweet and I'm excited to get to know her better. I still miss Steven's Creek like you wouldn't believe, but I think that ward will forever be the standard that all other wards are compared to. Steven's Creek felt like home. This ward is very nice, too, though. Also, some friends from Campbell, the Allens, are here. It's really nice to get to hang out with people who are comfortable. They also did us a HUGE service when all the moving BS was going down. Without Travis, this whole situation would have been even worse. Hard to imagine, but it's true. I also need to find my local LLL! Plus, I have several friends I've known online for years but never met that live in this area, so that's really exciting. I'm especially excited about meeting Kaaren in real life. She is this sweet, wonderful person I met online when Aaron and I were dating. We wrote while she was on her mission, been there for each other through a lot of rough times, and I can't wait to hang out with her. A part of me is afraid I won't be what she expected and she'll be disappointed, but I think that's just my insecurity and the fact that I think she's so great.
The kids are doing great. Emily and Libby want to play outside with the neighborhood kids alllll the time, haha. There's a little wooded area near the playground that they love because there are fruit trees and they can do a little exploring. School doesn't start till September 2 and I need to get on top of getting birth certificates and vaccine exemptions which I definitely need to do. I'm excited that they have had such a nice long summer vacation. They love having their own rooms again, and we have lots of decorating plans! Libby wants her room painted purple, and we're going to make Emily's room all polka dots.
Jack has gotten used to the stairs. When he comes down, he kind of slides down on his belly. It's hilarious. He fell down them once, but he was alright. I kind of think that I fall down the stairs sometimes, too. It's just part of having stairs. He's more careful now.

Someday I will post pictures of the house. I thank you all for reading, and I will do my best to get caught up on all your blogs soon. I miss you!

Creamy Chicken Enchiladas

This is so good. It's adapted from a recipe in Better Homes & Gardens, and today I just layered it like a lasagna because I forgot to heat up the tortillas and they were stiff and cracked. It was sooo good, and my kids loved it! (Which is super rare.)

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1/2-1 chopped onion
3 good-sized garlic cloves
a few tbsp. EVOO
1 bell pepper, chopped
3 oz cream cheese, softened
1 tbsp. milk
a little bit of ground cumin
a couple handfuls of fresh spinach, chopped
corn tortillas
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 8-ounce carton of sour cream
1 cup milk
shredded "fiesta" cheese
salt and pepper to taste

Chop the chicken and toss with salt, pepper, and a tiny bit of cumin (a little goes a very long way), then cook over medium to medium-high heat along with the onion, garlic, and bell pepper.
Meanwhile, stir together the cream cheese and 1 tbsp milk with about a 1/4 tsp. cumin. Then add the chicken and veggies. For traditional enchiladas, warm the tortillas roll up about 3 tsp. of the filling mixture in each, and place seam down in a greased baking dish. For the layered kind, cut the tortillas in half and layer like a lasagna. Then, for the sauce, combine the soup, milk, and sour cream in a bowl and pour over the top. Cover the pan with foil and bake in a 350* oven for 30-35 minutes, then remove and cover the top with cheese, then return the pan to the oven to melt the cheese for a few minutes. You can serve with shredded lettuce and chopped tomatoes on top, I bet that'd be really good.

The Plan.

May 21--Em's last day of school.
May 22--Daddy flies in from Houston.
May 23-27--Pack up the POD and clean up the house.
May 28--Hop in the car and head to southern Indiana to visit my sister.
June 1--Head to Campbell.
June 2 (maybe 3)--Head to Texas.
June 15--AARON!!!
June 21--Head to Washington.
June 27--Arrive in Washington.
June 30--Our 9th anniversary.
July 3--Lilith Fair.


Wow, this summer's going to leave me exhausted.

My Walls are Bare and White.

Some people's home are lovely. Pretty colors on the walls. Picture frames full of their family's precious memories. Decorative plates hanging around, big initials of their last names behind the TV, centerpieces, candles, all kinds of pretty things. And every time I walk into the home of someone with a beautiful, cozy, homey home, I admire their pretty walls and pictures and candles, and wonder why in the world my home doesn't look this way? Now, anyone who knows me knows that housekeeping is not my strong suit, so maybe I should be more focused on getting the dirty clothes off the floor, but this blog is about my walls, not my floor.

I want pretty walls. I have spent my entire life renting, so maybe that has something to do with the white. The only time I remember painting was when I was pregnant with Emily. They would let you paint as long as you painted it back to white before you left. Her room was more of an alcove, and I didn't want it to be all pink. I tried a green, but Aaron said it looked like a hospital, so I picked blue. My parents and sister all helped us. We painted the whole thing blue, with big fluffy clouds, green grass, butterflies, bugs, and a big yellow sun. , I loved that room. It was beautiful, and everyone who loved my baby had contributed. We never did have to paint over it, because they decided to tear down the married student housing and no one would be renting after us. I remember the day I drove past and it had been torn down. I cried, and I tried digging through the rubble for a piece of the wall, but it was too deep. Maybe that's why I never put my heart into decorating again, because my little Betsy heart was so broken by my baby's room's destruction.

My mom never really decorated, either. The only thing I really remember hanging on the walls were these candle sconces. They were black wrought iron, with these little orange glass votive holders. I loved those things.

For spring break, I visited my friend Laura. Laura's home is beautiful! She has a big "P" on her wall behind her TV. She has end tables that match the TV stand. Her dining room is this lovely shade of green, and she has pictures everywhere; on the walls, on the tables, in the guest room. Her home is just lovely! She just has an eye for decorating. She can go to Hobby Lobby and randomly pick something out that will just go. I'm so jealous of that! I don't have the eye like she does. I'm so afraid of putting a bunch of stuff on my walls and having it be a big discordant mess. I was talking about this with my friend Tosha. We both talked about how we don't have that eye and we are jealous of those who do. But at least Tosha has some nice stuff on her walls! I have nothing, except the guidon that 5th Group gave Aaron when he left. It's great, I just need more.

I know we are moving in two months, but I figure now is as good a time to start this process as any. We are a military family. We move a lot; at least every few years. It's time to stop treating our homes as temporary, and time to make each place we live feel like what will be our home, for however long it is our home. And this is our home, for the next two months. It's time to make our home feel like a home.

Best Friends

When I was a little girl, my brother had a best friend. They had been best friends ever since we were all little children. They were inseperable, did everything together. They stayed close up until they were in their late teens, I believe. And I, as the token little sister, of course loved him. But that's beside the point. I was always jealous of their relationship. I'd read books and see movies and TV shows with people who had been best friends all their lives, from early childhood into adulthood, and I wished I had someone like that. My life has been, more or less, a series of best friends, and I always kept hoping that each one would be my last.

My first "best friend" I remember was when I was in elementary school. A girl named Kim Brooks who told me she wouldn't be my friend if I wore my seat belt on the school bus. haha.
I met Barbara in 4th grade. We were both tomboyish and sat at the "boys" table at lunch, and couldn't stand girl friendships. I stayed up all night for the first time with her. We watched Chucky together. She taught me how to shave my legs. Around the middle of 6th grade, we were still friends but had grown apart some. We hung out with the same people and sat together at lunch, but that intense "best friend" thing was gone. I was very good friends with a few girls; Anna, Angelene, and Leslie, and went through phases with all of them. Anna and I were very close, but then she moved away suddenly in 7th grade. Leslie and I fought a lot, and Angelene and I were close but didn't have that same bond. Her mom wouldn't let her come to my house because I lived in the ghetto. :( I also spent a lot of time during this time with Joy, who lived in my apartment complex and I loved but was also a little intimidated by.

Around the middle of 7th grade, I became close with a girl at church named Nancy. Up until this point we'd been kind of enemies, but of course I can't remember why now. She and I had a very dramatic, intense relationship. I think a lot of it was personality and a lot was going through really big firsts together. We were best friends through most of high school, and up until I got married. We went through a lot of really heavy stuff together, and toward the end I really just had to step back in order to deal with my own emotions and goals. We still talk, but not often.

Right after I met Aaron, I met Tosha. She was funny, refreshing, and pretty much my exact opposite. So of course we clicked right away. She opened my mind and taught me to think ina new way. She was with me when I got married. I was with her when she got married. She went to the university I lived at because I was there. She'd come over every day and play with Emily. I have very sweet memories of her coming over and jumping down on all fours with her butt up in the air, making silly faces and noises at baby Emmy. When she had nowhere to live after her freshman year of college, she moved in with us before her wedding that summer. I cried my eyes out at her wedding, just like she'd done at mine. She moved to Japan to live with her Marine husband. The following year, Libby was born and Aaron joined the Army. I kept meaning to visit her, but never could make it happen. I remember her calling me when she found out she was pregnant with her daughter. I was working at the bar and she kept calling over and over; I finally ducked under the counter and answered, and came up with tears in my eyes. Toward the end of her pregnancy, right before she moved back to the States, right before Aaron deployed, we had a huge fight and I told her never to call me again. We had been best friends for 7 years. I mourned the loss of our friendship almost like someone might mourn a death. I agonized, I blamed, I cried, and I could never stop thinking of her. We went two years without talking.

During that time, I learned a lot. I realize now that most of the blame for what happened belongs with me. I learned that my very best friend is my husband. I became very close with my big sister. And I gained a new best girlfriend, Laura. I think a lot of what happened with Tosha is because of my own self-importance. I have talked about it at length with Laura, and I think what happened is, when you're best friends in high school, it can be really hard to translate and evolve into adult best friends. I am of two minds on the subject of me and Tosha's breakup. On the one hand, I treated her unfairly. I undervalued her intelligence and her relationship with her husband and his family. I had unrealistic expectations, and I was mean, really. I found myself often wishing that, if we couldn't be BFF's, that we had at least split amicably. I missed her, I missed out on two years of her daughter's life, and a lot of other times that she really could have used her best friend. I regret that. I wish I could have at least been a shoulder for her. Now, having her back in my life, I'm really feeling how wrong I was for hurting her, for leaving her.

On the other hand, I am very grateful for what it did to my relationship with my husband. For how it drew Teresa and I together. For the way Laura and I relied on each other. I wouldn't change any of those things, but I wish it hadn't cost my relationship with Tosha to get them. I do have her back in my life, now, and I'm grateful for that. Our relationship is different now, but I think a lot of that has to do with knowing what it's like to not have each other. I'm grateful that I don't have to label the people I love as "best friend" in order for them to be a person I love and cherish. I have many women in my life that I can't imagine dealing with my everyday stresses without.

I don't feel like my life is incomplete without a best friend. I don't think I will ever be without a best friend, because, really, Aaron is the one person in this world who knows me through and through, and who I can be as dumb as I want and he'll still love and respect me. There's something really special about having your sister be your best friend, too. She can't get rid of me! Ha ha! I'm grateful for all my ladies, I hope they know this. My world is so rich because of all the different women in my life who help me see things in another light, and who stand behind me. You are all blessings in my life.