Good Tidings

 Christmas, er New Years, Greetings!

As usual I managed to get out a scant half of my intended Christmas cards, so for those of you who heard nothing but crickets from us this year, I apologize!  Here is what I meant to send out, and it comes now with every bit of good cheer and kind regards that it would have held had it been in an envelope:)
  

********

I hope this letter finds you in the thick of the holiday season, deeply enjoying your friends and family and the extra layer of good cheer that seems to settle over the landscape this time of year.
  
This year I thought I’d let the children give you the highlights of their lives in their own words.  
Rebekah, age 20 – It’s been a busy but blessed year!  I am wrapping up my Associate’s Degree at Grand Rapids Community College and am so excited to start the music therapy portion of my degree at Western Michigan University next fall.  

This summer I was able to observe/volunteer with a music therapist at a developmental center and I loved it!  It was so neat to see how the kids were touched by the music and then how I was touched in return!  

About six months ago, I felt God putting foster kids on my heart and I have been praying about how I could use music therapy to reach kids who are in foster care or aging out of the foster care system.  I don’t know where this will lead but know that God does and I trust His plan.  

This year I was also blessed to be able to teach a Challenge B class for our Classical Conversations homeschool group.  I’ve absolutely loved teaching!!  I cover six strands each week: Algebra, Latin, Logic, Debate, Science, and Literature, and I have had so much fun relearning everything with my four students.  I am so thankful for my family, and this year my heart has been moved by God’s faithfulness and amazed by the way He chooses to work in my life. 

Christina, age 17 – This year has been a whirlwind!  It’s my senior year of high school and it’s almost over.  Can I be sad and happy at the same time?  Well according to the “Inside Out” movie, you can! :) For school I’ve been studying Old Testament Theology, Spanish, Biology, World History, Ancient Literature, and Personal Finance/Economics.

I’ve been enjoying my third year of playing viola in the Grand Rapids Youth Symphony. This is my first year in color guard in the West Michigan Homeschool Fine Arts program.  It has been a blast to bring back my ballet experience all while dancing with a flag! I also have had the opportunity to run the nursery of our local CC every Monday, and to volunteer at our local Alpha Women’s Center whenever I get the chance.  

Next year I hope to increase my hours there as well as start an intensive reading program (theology, history, biographies, classic fiction, philosophy) with my dad.  “Gap year” sounds like an empty version of what I have in mind, so I prefer to think of it as a “Super Senior Year”!   

I’m not sure where God will eventually lead me, but I have many interests and I would eventually like to help with the struggles that “aging out” foster kids face in some way.  

This year I’ve been very thankful for all the friendships that God has provided me with through letters, church, and symphony.

Elijah, age 13 – I am thankful for so much. First is no snow this winter!  Second is for my friends and family, and third is for a warm house.  One of my favorite things to do for fun is make up stories in my mind and write them down.  I also love sports.  This year I am in Challenge A for Classical Conversations.  My favorite subject is science.  I research a different topic every week, write about it, and give a presentation.  I play basketball for the Southeast Cougars.  I am the point guard for the Jr. High team.  In the summer I play baseball for Lowell Little League.  Next season I hope to pitch for the Warriors, a travel team.  I love my dog and cat and this season!
  
Isaiah, age 10– This year I am thankful for a warm home and good friends. I like writing funny stories for my CC group. I also like building new things with Legos and reading Popular Mechanics magazine about new inventions. I love studying and drawing cars. My favorite brand of car is a Cadillac. Someday I would like to build or sell cars.
  
Jude, age 8– This year I am thankful for God’s creation. I like to play with my neighbor Dane. I love giving my presentations in Classical Conversations. I like to play basketball outside and my favorite college team is Ohio State and my favorite NFL team is Lions. I like to travel to new places and I like writing to my pen pal Jonah in Uganda. My favorite food is chicken Alfredo.

Kaiden, age 8 – I am thankful for my dog.  I like to play football.  I am looking forward to playing basketball next year.  I want to play every position. I like to build with Play Mobile. I like Classical Conversations and my favorite part is the afternoon class with Christina.

Keira, age 6 – I am thankful for my whole family and our dog and God and Jesus. I like to play on the swings and I like to draw and all my teachers.  In Sunday school I like crafts and I love when Aunt Judy gives me candy at church!  I like to work on letters at Grandma’s. I love to go to Ohio with my family.
  
Sandra, age…well, I have one but we won’t discuss it:)  I am thankful for so much!  For 21 years of marriage to a wonderful, hard-working, God-fearing man.  For the pediatric rheumatology partner God brought to him this year (yay!).  For my family and friends.  For my church.  For the freedom to make the educational decisions that will best meet the needs of my children.  And most of all for my relationship with God, whose power, grace, and love transcends all situations and circumstances.
  
There are many things that have not worked out the way we planned this year—every year, in fact!  Jamey’s health is not what we wish it was.  It may never be.  Our family is not perfect.  Our struggles are real.  They may always be with us.  

We deal with the same set of worries that every couple in our age group does—our parents’ health concerns, our children’s futures, our own entry into the joys of middle age:), the increasing instability of the world around us.  

But the good news is that not one of those things can shake the truth of the gospel and the joy we celebrate this time of year!  

God came down to earth to lift our chins, to pick us up from our worries, heartaches, weakness, and sin, and give us new life in Him.  Oh, the joy of that truth!  It endures even when our earthly expectations disappoint us and the ugly realities of life rub the shine off our dreams.

I’d like to share a little Christmas Story--

It was the first Tuesday evening in December. I had made out my plans for the day and carried them out to perfection.  We were going to have a joyous family evening of songs, cocoa, laughter and decorating.

School was wrapped up and in the bag. Dinner was done early.  The boxes were lined up in the hall.  The kettle was on.  Music was playing.
  
And then Jamey came home from work.  Sick. Again.

I bundled him off to the couch, hushed the children, and we began.  OK, I thought.  We can still salvage this night.  We WILL have Christmas spirit!  It’s not the same without Jamey, but we can still have fun.

And almost immediately there was fighting. 

And no one listened to my instructions. 

Decorations were flying up, pictures and knick knacks were coming down, and my inner Martha Stewart was beginning to twitch.  In the chaos we forgot to walk the dog--who then proceeded to firehose my favorite Swedish rug.  In my panic to MAKE IT STOP, I let him out without his leash on.  

Naturally, he saw his chance and bolted off into the pitch black night, which made my younger children start screaming, at which point I slammed the door and angrily blurted out that I HOPED he got lost. 

Suddenly it got very quiet, and I could feel the last of the good cheer slip out of the room.
   
Upset with the dog and disappointed in myself, I stalked into the living room and peevishly began clearing off the top of the bookcase (in order to make way for baby Jesus and the nativity, of course).   

Because I was working in a *hasty* manner, I grabbed Jude’s fishbowl too roughly and it fell from my fingers.  

Onto my couch.  

Stinky water and slimy rocks poured out over my cushions and pillows, the bowl crashed onto my coffee table, and Jude’s precious birthday fish skittered under the couch to join the dust bunnies and abandoned Legos that live there year round.
  
It was while I was lying on my stomach in fish-water, with my dog-pee-soaked feet in the air and my arm jammed up to my neck under the couch, groping blindly for a small blue fish as my children stared at me in wide-eyed horror, that both the humor and the sadness of the situation struck me.
  
Very rarely can I control all of the circumstances in my life, even with the best of plans!  The only thing I can control is my reaction to those circumstances.  I can let the tyranny of my expectations poison my reality, or I can graciously bend to accommodate it. 

Most importantly, as a Christian I am in possession of something that cannot be tainted by ugly surprises of any kind—if only I choose to remember it!
  
2 Corinthians 4:6-10 states, “God, who said, ‘Let there be light in the darkness,’ has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ.

“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.”

So I guess I just want to say (to you and to myself), remember that even if your advent was clouded by loneliness or uncertainty this season, or if none of your festive plans saw the light of day--or if the best memory you made this December was the dramatic rescue of a little boy’s fish from beneath a filthy couch (yes, it lived!) try to see it all through the eyes of faith.  

Because this is true:  The Good God, Creator of the Universe, came down to give us joy that doesn’t rely on happy circumstances, peace that isn’t dependent on peaceful surroundings, and love that will go on forever and ever.  Amen!  

May we all know this and know HIM better and better over the coming year.  Merry Christmas!

Isaiah 9:6

For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us; And the government will rest on His shoulders; And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.

For My Parents

On December 22, 2015, my mom and dad will have been married for 50 years.  To each other. 

And only ever to each other.
  
In this era of serial monogamy, no-fault divorce, conscious uncoupling, open marriage, and co-habitation, the idea of an exclusive, lifelong marriage seems almost quaint. 

To each his own, right?  I can just hear the chorus. Why limit your options?  Why chain yourself to the same old boring person for 50 years when you could have fresh, new love every few years.  Shucks!  Every few weeks if you want to!  They say that variety is the spice of life.

 Except that when you strip them down, all of these modern domestic arrangements have one thing at their core:  selfishness. 

And I have yet to see anything beautiful come from that devilish characteristic. 

What kind of security could be built between us if I promise to look after you--until it ceases to benefit me? 

How can I fully trust a person who might be holding me with one arm and groping around for an escape hatch with the other?

It seems to me that these temporary arrangements create a situation where both parties are constantly evaluating their options--just in case. 

And it strikes me that this just might be a barrier to true unity and authentic intimacy. 

I never question whether my legs are just sticking with me until they can find a torso they like more.  There is absolutely no chance of my ears having a bad day and going rogue.  Ditto for my eyes, my head, and my elbows.  Body integrity is one worry I can take off the table completely, which allows me to focus on the business of maximizing the life experiences of all of my parts.  Every member of team Sandra is in this thing for better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. 


Marriage was designed to be the same way--for our benefit, of course.   Matthew 19:4-8  He [Jesus] answered, "Have you not read that he who created them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.”

The analogy of marriage being like a body is such a vivid picture.  Can you even imagine lopping off your hands because they got old and you wanted a fresh set with no age spots or arthritis?  Or ripping out your stomach for its persistent lactose intolerance?

Well, there is an emotional version of that scenario being pushed in our culture.  It is known as "serial monogamy" or as I like to call it, "promiscuity in a prom dress". 

On the surface it may seem like a satisfying way to rid oneself of the baggage of a tired relationship, but if you were to take a walk through the boneyard of your past relationships to see how that mindset worked out for the people you pursued, used, and discarded, how would they see it?

I'll tell you.  They would see it (and you) as selfish. Not only does serial monogamy leave a trail of broken hearts, it Frankensteins your soul and leaves you lurching through life as an emotional cripple. 

How about "no-fault" divorce?  Pardon my giggle, but it sounds like something my kindergartner would come up with. 

As in, "Mom, my Barbie doll overflowed the toilet ALL BY HERSELF."

Or, "Mom, he gave himself a bloody lip.  My fist and I were just standing here being quiet and good the WHOLE TIME." 

Newsflash.  It is always someone's fault, and usually there is at least a little bit of blame on both sides.  Grown-ups used to be the ones that knew that.  At least have the guts to admit it when you go in and blow up your own marriage, folks. 

Malachi 2:13-16  "You cover the Lord's altar with tears, with weeping and groaning because he no longer regards the offering or accepts it with favor from your hand. But you say, 'Why does he not?'

"Because the Lord was witness between you and the wife of your youth, to whom you have been faithless, though she is your companion and your wife by covenant. Did he not make them one, with a portion of the Spirit in their union? And what was the one God seeking? Godly offspring. So guard yourselves in your spirit, and let none of you be faithless to the wife of your youth."

 Let's consider another new-fangled invention.  "Conscious uncoupling" is a novel way to describe the slaughter of a relationship.  It is often recommended by Hollywood types and is very progressive. 

And silly.

 Conscious uncoupling?  Really?  What's the alternative?  Unconscious uncoupling? 

Is that where you wake up one morning and go, "Whoa!  What happened last night?  I went to bed happily married and today I suddenly have a new girlfriend, a crazy ex, an overpriced lawyer, and my kids are in therapy." 
  
 Just because it is volitional, does not make it right.  "The man who does not love his wife but divorces her, says the Lord, the God of Israel, covers his garment with violence, says the Lord of hosts. So guard yourselves in your spirit, and do not be faithless.”    Malachi 2:16

And then there is that perennial favorite, co-habitation, which is also known as "living together", "shacking up", or "why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free".  This concept carries with it all the covenantal seriousness of taking a used jalopy out for a test drive.

It does not imply permanence, or exclusivity, or devotion, or commitment.  In fact, you can co-habit with anything or anyone.  At one time or another I have (with varying degrees of satisfaction) co-habited with friends and relatives, mice, vegetables, dogs, roaches, visiting house-guests, and moldy bread. 

I want more from the one I love.

Real marriage is so much more.  It is selfless, reverent, outwardly focused, sacrificial.  It is a "burn the ships--we're not going back" leap into a life where you no longer own yourself and your first consideration is for someone else's good. 

It is hard.  And wonderful.  And forever.

A good marriage doesn't just happen.  It requires work.  It takes great care and daily nurturing.  It involves compromises and acts of service and giving up of rights, and mutual consideration, forgiveness, faithfulness, vigilance, and protection. 

Huh.  That sounds pretty intense.  But what if you're not into self denial?  What if your highest priority is self-care, self fulfillment, self actualization, and self-love?

Well, then congratulations!  You get nothing. 

Or rather you get a culture that is so unfamiliar with the price of commitment that not only can they not sustain loving marriages, but they often abandon children, cheat their bosses, betray their family members,  and have short-lived friendships full of drama and angst. 

For Pete's sake, we aren't even faithful to our own genders anymore!

It is against this backdrop of transience and expediency that something like my parents' marriage shines. 

Fifty years ago they closed the door on every option but each other.  They united their hearts as one before God and man and made a life that carried them through multiple moves, job changes, births and deaths, financial hardships and times of plenty.  It sustained them through disagreements and temptations, sadnesses and misunderstandings.  It multiplied their joys and triumphs. 

Their commitment to one another helped them forge a bulwark of protection and security around my brother and me--a place so safe that we never questioned its ability to carry us through our own struggles and insecurities.  To this day, we look to them for comfort, wisdom, and advice.

They painted a picture of what love between two people can build within a community--a space where hurting people can be brought in and nurtured, an open door of hospitality for friends and strangers, a safe place for service and ministry and growth. 

They pooled their talents, skills, resources, and vision and used them to simultaneously provide for their family and bless those in the town where they lived.

They sharpened one another and grew toward each other in interests, appreciation, and affection.

They became so used to the rhythm of "my life for yours" that when circumstances called them to drop their own plans, schedules, and desires and care for their aging parents, or help their extended families, or watch grand-kids, or do a favor for their children, they were able to do so with grace and joy.

In short, although they are not perfect, because they have chosen the path of true love--moment by moment for 50 years--they have built a legacy which their children, grand-children, and great grand-children are now proud to honor.

Mom and Dad, thank you for giving us the gift of your solid, unshakable commitment to each other and to God.  Your marriage is a lovely picture of the way God loves us.  Your willing sacrifices for one another continue to inspire us.  Your covenantal faithfulness is a fragrant offering to your Savior.  Happy Anniversary.  We love you!



***************

  1 Corinthians 13:4-8

"Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

      Love never fails."

John 15:13



"Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

Cooking With Chaos: Learning to Love Your Kitchen Catastrophes

I am not a confident cook.  After 21 years of marriage, I can follow a recipe pretty well as long as it doesn't start speaking a lot of French or throwing around words like "emulsify" or "render" or "spatchcock" or "de-vein".

Or for that matter, "truss", "scald", "macerate", "grate", "beat" "grind", "shred", "whip", "mince", or "inject".  On principle, if it sounds like torture, I don't want to do it to my food.  If it happens, fine, but I don't need to know about it.

There are culinary operations I am willing to perform.  For instance, "open a can of ..." I can do all day. 

"Bake" is fine.  "Drizzle"--great! 

"Cream", "dot", "dust", "fold", "marinate", "simmer", "steep", and "whisk"--also no problem!

But if you put me in a kitchen with raw ingredients and no simple-to-follow instructions, I'll panic and order a pizza.

It's not that I don't love food.  I'll eat anything and enjoy it, but I wasn't raised to be a foodie.

Growing up, my family normally viewed cooking as something you did to keep yourself from starving to death.  Life didn't revolve around meals, rather meals existed to provide the raw fuel for life. 

We came together in a tumble around the table from our various (usually outdoors) activities and ate the simple, wholesome meals my mother prepared without much thought to what was in them.  My Dad's tolerance for spices was narrow  (actually, just salt) and my mom focused more on the nutritive value of what we ate than on fancy prep and presentation.  

She also faced the daunting task of satiating the hyperactive Hudson metabolism that my Dad, my brother, and I inherited from our distant hillbilly relatives. 

There was no such thing as a light snack in our house.  Whole chickens, loaves of bread, hunks of beef, vats of potatoes, giant bowls of broccoli and peas and spinach all disappeared with alarming speed around the dinner table, and then usually we were back to clean up the scraps an hour or so later. 

In fact, I didn't know until after I was married that it was not normal to be wakened from a sound sleep by a middle-of-the-night craving for toast, cereal, and bananas. 

*Side note:  How sad for all you "normal" people who outgrew your 3a.m. feedings in infancy! I have such fond memories of running into my various family members downstairs in the wee hours and sharing a sleepy conversation over bowls of shredded wheat...sigh*

Anyhoo, fast forward 20 years and I still love eating, but unless it is a special occasion, cooking is something I remember with alarm every night around 5:30.

This is not the case in my circle of friends.  I have the good fortune to be surrounded by some culinary wizards, many of whom have blessed me with their favorite recipes so that now, when circumstances call for it, I can pull out a meal that causes people to ask ME how to make it!

I found this to be an enjoyable occurrence for the first decade of my marriage, but then I had kids and my cooking became slightly more--erratic.

While I still cannot make food without a recipe, I find that now I often cannot even cook WITH a recipe, due to the relentless, serial interruptions which seem to happen at inopportune moments during the cooking process at my house.

For instance, there is the emergency phone call from *someone* who calls me to say that they are *somewhere*, but actually need to be *somewhere else*. 

Right Now. 

Or the blood curdling screams (sometimes accompanied by actual blood) coming from the various small individuals who live here. 

Common decency requires that I at least investigate these occurrences, but try explaining that to the onions that are caramelizing or the chicken that is five degrees from being done.

Even if I manage to follow a recipe through to completion, pop it in the oven, and set the timer, I now have a helpful tribe of wandering kitchen elves who have made an art out of hearing the oven beep, turning off the timer, and forgetting to tell me that it rang. 

Consequently, I have served a number of seared, blackened, and toasted dishes that weren't originally supposed to smell like smoke. 

Homeschooling has also helped "revise" many of my meals, because despite my intentions to have our school day wrapped up with a bow at 4p.m., by dinner time I am often still helping edit papers, deciphering Latin declensions, and collaring small boys whose math problems need to be redone for the third time. 

This is the primary reason my children think that the bottom inch of a pot of rice is supposed to be a desiccated pancake of charred starch.  (They're OK with it because I've told them it protects the pot from getting banged up by serving spoons.)

It occurred to me that I may not be alone in this. 

I can't possibly be the only one who carries the guilt of being unable to complete a recipe as it is written. 

There must be others who are routinely mocked by simple, straightforward dinner instructions that look as easy as a dot-to-dot but end up feeling like a lesson in advanced calculus.

So! I came up with a cookbook idea for moms in my position.  It builds the distractions, mishaps, and calamities right into the recipes, ensuring the beleaguered cook a feeling of success no matter what the food looks (or tastes) like in the end.

I call it "Cooking With Chaos: Recipes for Disaster" and here is a sneak peek!

Taken from real life.  Tested in the Birmingham kitchen, I am please to present:

Potato Leek Soup

Ingredients:

1 cup butter
4 leeks, sliced
3 cloves mashed garlic
salt and pepper to taste
2 quarts chicken broth
2 T. cornstarch
8 cups Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and diced
4 cups half and half
diced chives
shredded cheese
bacon

In a large pot, over medium heat, melt butter.  Add leeks, garlic, salt and pepper and cook until daughter lets the dog escape.  Turn heat down.  Run outside and yell to see if anyone has caught the dog.  If so, turn heat back up and keep stirring until leeks are tender--about 15 minutes.  If not, turn stove off, get on boots and slog off through the neighbor's field with a raw hot dog and a leash until dog is located and captured.  Then, turn heat back up and stir until leeks are tender--about 15 minutes. 

Stir cornstarch into broth.  Unless you discover you are out of cornstarch.  Then try flour.  Unless it has managed to get those stupid brown bugs in it that have infested your pantry in the last month.  If this happens, order pizza.

If not, pour broth into pot containing leeks and garlic.  Realize halfway through that because you doubled the recipe, the broth will not fit into the pot you have chosen.  Stop pouring.  Slosh 1 cup of broth onto leg and floor.  Call dog over to lick floor.  Run grab applesauce pot.  Pour remaining broth and mixture from original pot into bigger pot.  Splash more broth onto floor.  No big deal.  The dog is still there lapping up the original mess. 

Take a phone call which requires writing a message.  Forget to turn on burner under new pot.  Take message, check on kids outside.  Break up fight over Nerf football and comfort daughter who has done a face plant in the sandbox because she was wearing her brother's boots that are two sizes too big for her.

Go back to check on soup.  Wonder why it isn't simmering yet.  Discover burner is off.  Panic (mild) because boys have to eat before practice.  Turn burner on medium high but tell yourself it won't burn because you will stir it the whole time.

As you are stirring, notice that the leeks look like tapeworms floating in broth.  Calculate the odds of your boys and husband eating anything that looks like tapeworms.  Decide to spoon out leeks and put them through food processor.  Forget to turn down burner as you are grinding up leeks.  Scorch broth (just a little),  panic (medium), and remove pot from heat, sloshing 1/2 cup onto hot burner. 

Open window to let out smoke from spilled broth.  Turn on new burner (medium) and replace pot. 

Remember you still have to peel potatoes.  Yell upstairs to girls to come help peel potatoes.  Yell outside to boys to come in and change for practice.  Start peeling potatoes until daughters arrive.  Then stir broth and pureed leeks until soup begins to simmer.  Notice that it smells good, looks better, and might actually be eaten by even your picky child.  Take a moment to congratulate yourself on the decision to grind up leeks.  

Start chatting with girls about music.  Pull out vegetables for salad, but get distracted by conversation.  Stop slicing vegetables.  Lean against counter.  Make a great point, but notice that you are gesturing with the knife and the salad is still not made.  Look at clock.  Panic (medium to high).  Throw potatoes into pot.  Turn up heat again.  Tell girls not to stop stirring!!!  Notice that the boys are still outside.  Run out and yell for them again.  Realize that they have taken the dog out for a run in the..."Hey!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE CREEK WE NEED TO LEAVE FOR PRACTICE IN 20 MINUTES AND DID YOU SERIOUSLY HOOK THE WAGON TO YOUR BIKE WITH DAD'S JUMPER CABLES!!??!"

Run back into house for towels.  Notice that girls have made salad (awww!) but have left the kitchen to change the playlist on the i-pod and the potatoes are sticking to the bottom of the pot (aghhh!) 

Turn down heat.  Try to unstick potatoes.  Observe that small black chunks are rising from the bottom and abandon efforts.  Accept that this recipe also requires that a "protective starch layer" be adhered to the bottom of the pot and move on.

Dump in half and half.  Give a quick stir and sort out pile of wet boys, dogs, clothes, and shoes that has coagulated in the doorway.  Look at clock.  Panic (high).  Push two boys into the shower, two boys toward the van with their dry clothes and sports equipment, and one wet dog into kennel. 

Run back to stove. Sprinkle in a handful of chives, a generous smattering of shredded cheese and top with crisp bits of bacon.  Note the lovely simmer and scent of your soup: thick and creamy with tender chunks of potatoes bubbling up among little bits of bacon and pepper and chives--and not a tapeworm in sight! 

Take three seconds to admire your handiwork and then picture two boys eating bowls of soup and salad in the van on the way to practice and surrender to reality.

Set burner to "warm", grab your keys, and stop at Little Caesar's on the way to the field.  

Success!  You have managed to make leftovers for tomorrow night and your boys are only 10 minutes late to practice. 

See?  Anyone can make a recipe like this!  I have other great ones to add as well--like the "salted chocolate chip cookies" that you make by forgetting to add salt to the dough and try to salvage by salting the tops during the baking process. 

These are also the cookies that you take out before the timer rings, but then your daughter comes in 10 minutes later and points out that they are actually raw so you put them back in, but you are impatient and put them in while the oven is still preheating so the tops end up too brown, so you pull them out again and they might still be undercooked inside but you don't notice because, hey--it's a warm cookie and once it is mashed up in your mouth you don't even notice that the tops were too salty. 

And then there's the meatloaf recipe that is really a team effort because it requires one person to turn on the oven and put the loaf in, one person to come through the kitchen and think Mom left the oven on with nothing in it and turn it off, one person to come back through and notice that the oven is off (usually the same person who put the meatloaf in) and turn it back on, again forgetting that the "preheat" function will scorch the top, one person to come through and see smoke coming out the oven vent and turn it off, and one person to order pizza when Mom comes back to start the potatoes and discovers the scorched/raw lump of meat in the oven. 

This same technique can be applied to many different recipes with similar results!  So easy!

A few notes:

Irritation and frustration are optional ingredients which I have put into most of these recipes at one time or another.  Yes, they are readily available, but I can't recommend them since they do not improve the flavor of the dishes at all and in fact throw a negative vibe over the ambiance of the whole place.  

I might also mention that my cookbook does require a healthy pizza budget and also a tenacious and dedicated pot-scrubbing crew, but given those things--anyone can successfully make these recipes!

Finally, while these dishes are suitable for close family and polite friends, they would not be welcome at most potlucks and bake sales.  For those venues, I recommend Costco's deli and bakery sections--unless you are trying to make other cooks feel better about their own offerings, in which case, cook away!  

My recipes are actually perfect for building self-esteem in others so I guess I am just saying, know your audience. 

And the phone number for your local pizza joint;)