In a couple of days I will be taking the walk. No, it isn't down the isle, it's across the stage of graduation.
1. Harvest the seeds. They should be gathered when they're full but still green in the spring; run your hand
down the branch to gather a bunch in your hands.. All maple seeds are good to eat, but some are more bitter than others (a good rule of thumb is: small and sweet, big and bitter). Later, when their shells are brown, they are a little more bitter, but still good.
2. Hull the seeds. Peel off the outer skin (the "whirlygig" part). Cut the end with your thumbnail. Squeeze out the seed; it looks like a pea or bean.
3. Rinse out the tannins. Taste a few seeds raw. If they are bitter, you'll need to boil them in water, dump out the water, and repeat until the bitterness is gone.
4. Cook the seeds. If you boiled them already, just season with butter, salt, and pepper and enjoy. If they weren't boiled, here are a few more options:
o Roasting - Place the seeds on a cookie sheet and sprinkle with salt. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 8 - 10 minutes.
o Drying - Put them in a dry, sunny spot or in a food dehydrator until they are crunchy. They can then be pounded or ground into a flour, if you want.
If I go too far, call me on it, or if I don't go far enough (Matt), call me on it.
Last week Thursday was the last time I clicked on the Home page of Facebook, browsed other's photos, easdropped on conversations, and contemplated the next image I would use to convey myself to my community of friends. Has it only been a couple of days since I deactivated my account? It seems like much longer. Have you missed me? Have I missed you?
I would love to sit here and pronounce that I am experiencing freedom. Instead, I admit that I do miss you (or is it that I miss knowing what you are doing and saying, who you are interacting with and where). I actually have to talk to you - darn.
Facebook has gone too far. It has taken on the responsibility of upholding relationships.
Please come back and let's interact in a similar, but simpler way. A creational way?
"This is mine", says the Lord.
"Take it, live it, sing it, and care for it."
"You are mine," says the Lord.
"Remember I am God."
I am Everything
The beginning, the end, the first, the last.
Yet, I am missing.
I fill the space, I breathe the wind, I speak the fire
And I sparked.
I am ever Dwelling,
In prescence and in spirit.
Yet, I roam.
I lay down, I build up, I set forward
And I placed.
I am ever With
Never without, never in need.
Yet, I desire.
I form you, I love you, I trust you
And I cried.
"This is mine," says the Lord.
"Take it, live it, sing it, and care for it."
"You are mine," says the Lord.
"Remember I am God."
40"I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out." 41As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it. Luke 19:40-41
Fortunately, the Christmas break allowed me to catch up on some reading and also go back and visit a couple of favourites. This said, I came across The Flower by George Herbert. Like always, his words struck a chord and this work in particular seemed to resonate as I reflected on my past year and look forward to the year to come, so I am sharing it.
How Fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! ev’n as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.
Who would have thought my shrivel’d heart
Could have recover’d greennesse? It was gone
Quite under ground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown;
Where they together
All the hard weather,
Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickning, bringing down to hell
And up to heaven in an houre;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell,
We say amisse,
This or that is:
Thy word is all, if we could spell.
O that I once past changing were;
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Offring at heav’n, growing and groning thither:
Nor doth my flower
Want a spring-showre,
My sinnes and I joining together;
But while I grow to a straight line;
Still upwards bent, as if heav’n were mine own,
Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that? what pole is not the zone,
Where all things burn,
When thou dost turn,
And the least frown of thine is shown?
And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing: O my onely light,
It cannot be
That I am he
On whom thy tempests fell all night.
These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide:
Which when we once can finde and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide.
Who would be more,
Swelling through store,
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.
I believe in Santa Claus. I am not thwarted by my fellow classmates who told me otherwise, by my own Mother's handwriting on the tags, by the fact that the milk and cookies I leave out every year somehow end up by Dad's cup of breakfast coffee, or even by the time where my Grandpa came out dressed up as Santa Claus with the suit on backwards.
Okay, let me clarify my confession. When I say I believe in Santa Claus I don't mean I support what he has become - a pawn of our consumerist culture, but instead what he repersents for our culture. I love the part of Christmas where we as a family gather around the tree, some more controlled than others, and open the gifts that we gave one another. I delight in seeing the face of a loved one tearing off the wrapping paper in anticipation for what is inside and lets be honest I also really enjoy opening a pleasent looking box that says "Dear Katrina/Merry Christmas/Love: Santa Claus. Sure we may grumble about the busy stores, the tacky music, the awful lawn decorations, the consummerism, self focus, and the warrented concern resulting from the faulty focus. However, what we must keep in mind is that the reasons why, excpet for those blow up lawn ornaments... I admit there is no redemption for them.
Even now, I am having a hard time concentrating on writing this post because of the presents that are looming from under the tree - inviting me to peek. Is this bad? Maybe... I apologize for not wanting my gift to be a donation to CRWRC to send a lamb to Africa, I apologize for getting excited about gifts, and I apologize for believing in Santa Claus.
Can there be something sacred about the idea of Santa Claus? Can there be something secular about the birth of Jesus Christ. I sure hope so.
Don't get me wrong, the true reason for Christmas is not lost upon people like me. The story of Jesus' birth fills me with a joy, a peace, and a hope is incomparable. This story renews my excitment and wonder for my Saviour time and time again. Maybe, just maybe the whole idea of Santa, of gift giving, is a tiny glimpse or result of the joy, peace, hope, excitment, and wonder that we recieve at Christmas.
News Flash: apparently the world is going to end in a snow storm and they are naming it Snowmagedon. So I thought I would say my last goodbyes via my blog.
I know, I know, I am sentimental that way.
May you all dress warmly, wear snow shoes, bust out the GT racers, dig snow tunnels, and maybe even have a snowball fight.
If we survive this dump of snow I will make tshirts.
There isn't much I that enjoy. Infact, I could fit it all onto one page and I have big writing.
False.
In an attempt to redeem my taste and interests after my last post, I will give you a little peek into what really gets me.
On Saturday we went to hear Handle's Messiah performed by the Redeemer choir. What an incredible experience. I could probably rave about it for a long time, and if you are reading this blog you most likely have already heard it all. So I will spare you the details, well most of them anyways.
As I sat in the hard wooden pew benches, a tad bit chilly from the drafty doors, I experienced the unique story of my Messiah in a way that I never have had before.
In a world that is overwhelmed in darkness, I am so thankful for the times when God allows us a glimpse of His glory; for when there is such a light you cannot see the darkness. On Saturday night, while the chorus rang true, I was unable to notice darkness, I could only hear the angels and see my Lord.
It is these glimpses that make me long for heaven and spur me on in hope for Home.
Call my humour sick, but these three videos had me hollering/coughing up a lung/peeing my pants/tears streaming down my face.
So I am sharing them with you.
Enjoy!
Garage Door Guillotine:
http://www.blinkx.com/video/garage-door-guillotine/kSUNk7dR2Ye_Qr4_-EgpqQ
Falling Mirror
Water Bloopers
Once there was a little girl who adored jewellery. She spent her childhood playing dress-up with her fake gems. When her parents would go to the local mall, this little girl would always beg to go with just so that she could gaze at the real stones glittering in the shop windows. During one such trip, they passed by a discount store. It was then that the little girl spotted a pearl necklace hanging in the window; the white beads seemed to glow alluringly. Next to the necklace dangled the price tag, which read $4.99. She would only receive a quarter for her weekly allowance, which meant that it would take her over five months to save enough money to buy the treasured necklace. Determined, she waited patiently and carefully put each of her quarters in her piggy bank. When she finally saved enough to pay for the necklace, her father took her back to the discount store. To her delight, the pearls were still waiting. She proudly walked into the store, emerging minuets later with a small velvet pouch. “I did it, Daddy!” she exclaimed.
That night, as her father tucked her into bed, he asked, “Honey, do you love me?”
“Of course I love you,” his daughter replied.
“Do you love me enough to give me your pearl necklace?” her father questioned.
Horrified, she burst into tears. “Daddy, I love you, but I can’t give you my pearl necklace.”
Her father leaned down, kissed her and told her that it was okay. Each night for a week, the father and daughter had the same conversation. Each night, after the tearful reaction, her father kissed her just the same. Finally on Sunday night, the father heard her crying sometime after he had tucked her in. He opened the door to her bedroom and sat down on the bed. “Daddy,” she sighed through tears, “I love you. You can have my pearl necklace.”
She pulled the small velvet pouch from under her pillow, placing it in her father’s hands. Now it was his eyes that filled with tears as he hugged her tightly. He thanked her and walked out of the room. The next morning, when the little girl awoke, she felt something under her pillow. Almost forgetting that she’d given away her precious necklace, she reached for the velvet pouch. But in her hand grasped something sturdier. She pulled out a small blue box and placed it in her lap. Slowly she opened it and gasped with surprise. Inside was a genuine pearl necklace. On the clasp, an inscription read, “Daddy Loves You.”
Did you know that a good dose of Listerine will keep mosquitoes away? Neither did I, until I saw my Mom spraying our whole campsite with it. Another remedy for mosquitoes is Bounce sheets. The things you learn when you go family camping...
I find that being with family makes you feel normal. Family is composed of people who will generally be just like you or at least have some of the same characteristics. Sitting around the campfire last Sunday and Monday night with the Vedder side made me realise that there are reasons why I am the way I am. It only takes about 10 minutes before we have all broken out in song trying to find a rhyme to everyone's name. ie. Mike - trike, Jackie - wacky, Ian - peeing, Jill - pill, Treeny - weanie. My Dad loves these campfires because everyone is giddy enough that he can break out a lame joke and eveyone will laugh. And then there's my Uncle Aalt who brings out the fire works with his tractor and lights them off 4 feet from our circle, while some encourage Jeremy to jump through them. As I look at each one of my family members through the light from the fire I can see Mike with two Bounce sheets hanging out of his cap, my Dad with his socks pulled up to his knees, my Mom with a net over her face to keep away the bugs, Aunt Jackie with her pink rubber boots, and all the while the grass smelling like Listerine. This is my family, this is my home, and I am a reflection of them both.
I find that the word love gets tossed around too easily. As a result instead of making a list of 50 things I love, I am giving you a sneak peak at what makes me tick - what I enjoy. I got this idea from Gideon Strauss who pointed out that in consideration of what we love that we come to know, most deeply, who we are and who we can become.
(they are in no particular order)
1. the stars.
2. spending time with my family.
3. hilarious situations that make me laugh until I can't breathe.
4. the smell of fresh cut hay.
5. laying in bed in the morning.
6. getting lost in a good book.
7. lasting friendships.
8. smiles.
9. conversation.
10. the combination of chocolate chip cookies and milk.
11. baseball.
12. listening to choirs.
13. letters.
14. accomplishing a goal.
15. taking walks down a gravel road.
16. watching the sun set.
17. the smell of rain.
18. dogs.
19. teddy bears.
20. naps in a hammock.
21. summer.
22. friends sitting around a campfire.
23. potatoes.
24. playing my guitar.
25. competition.
26. gardening.
27. suppertime with my family.
28. lame jokes.
29. comedy.
30. learning something new everyday.
I found this post half finished from the summer, but I decided to post it anyways because it is neat.
Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, Katrina here reporting from 333 Springbrook Ancaster Ontario. The current weather is humid and may cause you arms to stick to the kitchen table or make the pages of your book curl (wait... I think the reason that the pages are curled may be the cause of being left out in the rain).
Kudos to you if you are reading this blog because it means that you haven't given up on me. If you did give up and are reading this weeks after I post its understandable, because in all honesty I had given up on myself. I even thought about deleting my blog all together.
Where to start? How about the fact that this is the first summer that I am living away from home? I am not completely convinced that it has been wonderful, for I do get homesick spells and would love nothing more than just to sit at home in the playroom with my family, go outside to play catch with Chester, play a game of Wizard on a Sunday night, play a game of baseball with the church league, or to unload a wagon of hay. Dad in case you missed it, I just offered to unload a wagon of hay. But other than being homesick, this whole independance thing has been pretty great. Working at Maple Leaf has been splendid. This might sound lame, but put me in a place outside, where I can work with great people, there are tractors humming in the background, and some fields growing around me, I will be content. I guess the saying that farming is in your blood is proven. So I have decided that even though I don't want to farm, it is a must that I live near by one so that I can at least ask for the occasional opportunity to drive their tractors.
I have found that independance means that the potential for getting into scrapes is significantly higher. So far I almost signed our house away to a energy 'savings' plan, broke the key to my car at a gas station, lost the mail key many times, trying to pay bills on time, having baby raccoons fall out of your garage roof, and having to be the one to make sure there is air in the tires of the car. I am just thankful that my parents are only a phone call away and no matter how independant I think I am, they still take care of me. Okay this is getting a little too mushy. In fact if my parents actually read this blog (which I know they doesn't) they would probably be getting really awkward and embarassed right about now.
This is where the original post ended, but I am adding on to it.
So the summer past and two of my great friends tied the knot, we went up North, saw Jack Johnson, watched Ultimate Frisbee, became more knowledgable about plants than I ever really wanted to be, got a great burn, bashed my eye on a shelve and got three stiches, and developed a love for Talize.
All in all it was a solid summer. I liked remembering it.
Sometimes I wonder if my life could get anymore interesting. Most of the time I answer myself with a resounding "no." This blog is proof, at least once every three weeks I have a substancial amount of events to fill its pages with. I think the only way my life could get any more thrilling would be if I step outside right now and got attacked by nightcrawlers. sick.
Ok, so I have never been and hopefully never be attacked by worms, but I did get hit in the head with a hockey puck. It hurt and I still have a small goosebump on the side of my head. I did not cry though, I was tough...
Speaking of hockey, baseball is well on its way. Just like all past 4 years I started with high hopes that they would do it this year, but Alas they are as consistant as a teeter totter. What is consistant is my love for playing catch. So far Ry and I have only broke one window, parts of a fence, and dented the side of the garage. Shhhh don't tell Tom.
Tomorrow I write my last exam as first year. Can yo belienve it? I can't, I can't believe I have an exam, because I am in summer mode. It will be so great to be done I think I will sing Handels Messiah the whole way home.
I started work for Maple Leaf Nursery, Ree's dad's nursery. Its a lot of work but I am loving it. I love the change betweem school and work. I really like working hard, it makes the days fly by. I helps that Robyn words there too, we make songs, riddles and names - great fun.
Well I really should either og to bed or study.... It will most likely be the later.
Just like D, I will inform you about a tidbit of info: Matching theory, people create realtionships with people of equal attractivess. All I have to day that if you are my friend cout yourself as lucky because that means that you are just a s attractive as me. ;)
On man I should get some shut eye, I am seeing visions of plants...
I think I live in extremes. Maybe this explains the reason why I leave everything to the very last minute, handing papers in at midnight on the day its due, finishing three assignments on the same day, studying for exams the night before, deciding things at the last minute, or why I hate it when it drizzles but love it when its a thuderstorm.
If I was my own doctor I would perscribe myself a dose of mellow yellow. Because even though katrina's krunch time is thrilling, I also find it ussually results in a break down or two. On Friday night I thought the world was going to end (literally). I was writing my Social Psychology paper that was due at midnight, plus trying to figure out my finances for the next month (I got my VISA bill), realised that I owed the government my lifesavings because I hadn't done taxes in three years, and all the while reading articles on how the world was going to end in about 10 years because humans are goint to starve to death. Eeek. When it rains it pours. So I had to have a little prayer session with God for about 15 minutes so that I would not go crazy and be put in an asylum.
Like James pointed out on his blog, the countdown has come. My countdown looks a little like this: one paper and five exams till freedom. Freedom to work and make money, freedom to read Kite Runner, Atonment Child, and Into the West (along with many more books), freedom to use my computer for the sole sake of entertaiment, freedom to commit to other things that don't involve Redeemer, and freedom to sit back on a summers night knowing that my work is done until the next morning. Hmmm, reading this you would think I was trapped in school. Maybe I am just being extreme.
I enjoy learning, I actually enjoy it a lot. On Thursday I had my last Lewis and Tolkien class and I actually felt sorrow as I walked out of that classroom. I think I am going to start referring to CS Lewis as Saint Lewis. If I were to recommend one book to anyone, it would be Till We Have Faces. I am writing my last paper and I can't wait to get started on it tomorrow morning (as I push my thick rimmed glass up my nose and pat my pocket protector).
(Kinda wish I actually had a pocket protector because then I would actually have a safe place to keep my pens. At this time of year I have no pens left, I think they disappear to the same place my keys and bobbypins are. I think one of my goals this week will be to try and find that magical place and if anyone cares to join me on this adventure you are more than welcome).
This week is going to be busy, busy, dreadfully busy, more than a bumblee more than an ant. Busy, busy, dreadfully busy, much much to busy for you. Kidding, Ill never be THAT busy.
I hereby dedicate this blog to my dear friend Rebecca Joy Sikkema, whom I have been letting down in the blogging department.
A lot has happened since I last wrote to you on this page. I have turned 21, tackled a squirrel, went to Toronto, wrote a billgillion papers, learned how to play the bagpipes, and learned how to dance the waltz.
(Robyn just spoke in her sleep. She said something about a rose. Funny thing is that she will find out about it by reading this, ha ha).
If I was going to rate life on a scale of 1-10, I would give it a 9. Spring is in the air, the grass is slowly turning green after being buried by snow, Blue Jays have had a solid start, I have a job for this summer, and school is almost out. Hallelu. This past week has been a little nuts because I had four papers due and I still have one more paper and two presentations. It is going well though, I have yet to become stressed, although I have been feeling rather exhausted lately. As long as I don't get the illness that Ryan had inflicted on many, I will be okay.
In the past month I have watched two movies that I think everyone should watch at one time in their life. Once and Into the Wild. Into the Wild made me very upset, not just a sad upset but an angry one too. It is really thought proviking. Once has a BEAUTIFUL soundtrack and it is a simple story and is wonderful.
My eyes are shutting involuntarily on me, so I think I should answer them and fall asleep. Je suis fache. Hopefully I will keep it up this time, so that I can sleeep,
Call me a baby, but I think that the 'section plate' is the best invention for the kitchen since the sink. See the way that each section holds its food and stops it from running into eachother? It's a beautiful thing. It is a personal pet peeve, actually, labelling it a pet peeve is being to kind... I hate it when the my food touches and nothing repulses me more than potatoey peas. Years of watching my dad and brothers pile all their supper items together and topping it off with apple sauce has forever scared me.
So you think of all people, Robyn would be sympathetic to my cause. But apparently she has a very twisted sense of humour. The other day when Angie made us a wonderful supper I kindly asked Robyn to scoop me up some potatoes. This ended up being a big mistake because she plopped them right on top of my all my vegetables!!! So I had to quickly do damage control and save my potatoes from being infected by lima beans But alas! I did not save them all. One of my last bites of potates included a lima bean *shudder*. Robyn thought it was quite a hilarious situation, I did not.
Other than this unfortunate episode life has been treating me well. I can't believe that there is only 15 more days of classes, eeeek. I have quite a bit to get done before April is allowed to come. So if all of the sudden I seem to have dropped off the face of the earth, it is probably because I have in order to escape my work load and responsibilities. Speaking of being responsible, I should probably head to to bed so that I can function tomorrow.
Fact: In the English language there is no word that rhymes with orange.
False: Three oranges a day will keep the doctor away.
I bet you are asking yourself, "What's with the oranges?" Well, last week in my grocery shopping endeavor I bought a whole box of oranges because they were on sale. The bright sign below the stand distracted my thought process and I did not consider the fact that oranges go bad at a rapid rate. So now I am eating an abundance of oranges and if you come over to my house I will most likely share them with you or throw them at you. However, here is the catch. You would think that because I am overdosing on Vitamin C I would have an immune system stronger than the Wall of China. Nope, I am currently on the verge of a nasty cold, my throat is scratchy and my head feel like a balloon. I want a refund.
Speaking of refunds, I want a refund on the weather. There is a myth that is going around called Global Warming. Don't believe it. It is March 8th and I can barley see out of my window due to snow. Last time I checked snow doesn't fall in warm weather. Last night Robyn and I got stuck in our driveway 3 times, all at one time (yes, this is possible). In between the 2nd and 3rd time I just collapsed and shook my fists at the heavens, it was quite dramatic. I used to like snow. I liked it when it meant sledding, making snowman, and getting snow days, not shovelling out the driveway. Although, I shouldn't really complain because today a very, very, very, very, very, very, nice man came and ploughed it for us. And when I am really honest with myself, I do still have a soft spot for snow. Infact I am going to make a snowman family tomorrow. Maybe I'll use orange peels for the eyes.
