About two years ago I ordered mini ham & swiss cheese sandwiches on pretzel rolls at a restaurant. I’ve been hooked on pretzel rolls ever since. I’ve bought a couple kinds from the store since and they are fast & good, but not cheap (holds up to the “Josh Mathews Choose 2” rule).
Since then I’ve tried making them at home several times, but none have turned out as well as the ones I made this past weekend. Two batches of rolls and some mini pretzels:
Yum!
I’m thinking I need a new blog category called “songs stuck in my head” because it’s something that occurs often.
This time the song is “Nothing to Say” by Andrew Peterson, which is about being left speechless in Arizona by God’s creation. I know several people who visited a bunch of national parks out west this past summer and it makes me want to visit the Grand Canyon (though ironically, I would not be able to do so right now due to the sad state of our government).
It’s an older song and was his first official single I believe. I heard it this past Sunday night when he performed it with Gabe Scott (who he also originally recorded it with) during a stop of the In The Round Tour with Sara Groves and Bebo Norman.
I have listened to all of these musicians for pretty much their whole careers, starting about the time I finished college, with all of them being about my age. I love the honesty and personal stories told in each of their songs. They have worked and toured together in just about every combination, but I think they said this was the first time they were all touring together, which made it feel like a special family reunion, especially since this is Bebo’s last tour. They each brought one person to round out the band, and as a fan and avid liner notes reader, it was no surprise that they would bring their usual players: Sara’s husband/manager/drummer, Troy; producer/piano player, Ben Shive; and guitar/hammered dulcimer/dobro/other-instruments-I-can’t-identify player, Gabe Scott.
Since this was also a Compassion concert, I was torn between volunteering and buying a regular ticket so as to see the whole show, but ended up helping out with Compassion. I’m glad I did because I got to see most of the show anyway. Bebo did an amazing job telling Compassion’s story and I think 34 kids were sponsored. I’ve been to more Compassion events than I can count in the last 3 years, but I think this was the first time I heard it said from stage that it is not the government’s responsibility to care for the poor. Given all that is going on in our government right now, this was a somewhat risky statement to make and I greatly respect Bebo for speaking the truth.
Songs from all three artists were interwoven throughout the night and by the end I was left with “nothing to say.”
There weren’t a lot of positives involved with having 3 out of 4 family members sweating out fevers and coughing up lungs (2 with what turned out to be pneumonia and 1 narrowly avoiding it), so it’s worth remembering these.
I’m pre-reading Pete Wilson’s new book Let Hope In as part of a Launch Team that I learned about online. I had previously read his first book, Plan B, with a small group and have meant to read the second, Empty Promises, but never did (it’s currently in my amazon cart). As a semi-frequent reader of Pete’s blog, I was interested in reading this new book. When I signed up for the Launch Team, I’ll admit that I didn’t really know if this book would apply to me right now (and was lured by the words “free T-shirt”!). Once I was actually chosen (it was limited to a certain number of people and more had signed up), I believed that there was a reason why. Now, the more I read it, the more I see that I do need more hope. And I do need it now. But it’s a choice. It’s my choice to change the way I think and act in response to the truth that I know in my head but don’t always take completely to heart: that God loves me no matter what.
I’m looking forward to the rest of the book and seeing how it plays out. Wednesdays are Hope Days (much preferred over hump days) on Pete’s blog the next couple months, featuring exerpts from the book.
The Rabbit Room is an online place filled with some great writing and music, created by people I’d love to hang out with in real life someday. Going to the annual Hutchmoot gathering in Nashville is on the “bucket list” that exists in my mind. Even if it were possible to physically get there, this year’s event sold out in 3 minutes and the speed of my internet connection is not in my favor. Here’s the description of the event from the About The Rabbit Room page:
“Hutchmoot is the Rabbit Room’s annual gathering in celebration of books, music, and works of art that tell the truth beautifully. It’s not a workshop, it’s not a networking convention, and it’s not an elitist cohort for uber-intellectuals. It’s for anyone–anyone–who’s drawn to the good and the beautiful and the true. (Which is everyone.) For more information, click here.”
It was here a week ago that I listened to Andy Gullahorn‘s new album Beyond the Frame.
I was instantly hooked and actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It took me by surprise because I had heard several of the funny songs that he’s kind of known for, ones that sort of poke fun at people or things in a generalized way (and in the nicest way possible, of course!). And I had known that he’s married to Jill Phillips, someone who I had listened to quite a bit maybe 10 years ago. I vaguely recall from the liner notes of her older CDs (haven’t dug them out to revisit & check) that he had written some of the songs and played guitar. Without taking any credit away from Jill, I’m guessing from reading the credits of Andy’s current CD that he was involved in the production and other instrumentation as well. I then, as luck would have it, I got to see him play with Andrew Peterson (something he does often, but not the previous times I’d seen AP) several days after that first listen to Beyond the Frame. I nearly cried at his live version of “Sleeping Sound” that night. The show was good timing, because I was able to buy the CD at the event. I should have bought two, one to give away here, because it’s that good. At least I think so, but I’m a fan of singer-songwriter/story-based/folkish music. The songs were written for real people going through real life, and I can think of no greater gift than to create something from your heart for people and then give it to them.
Last night I read some beautiful words about life and death from Russ Ramsey, someone who recently had open heart surgery (there are 3 parts).
I wanted to save & share some of the things I’ve been thinking about lately, so this is just that.
This isn’t as much of a book review as it is a reminder of who I am. I came across the book Life After Art by Matt Appling unexpectedly. It showed up in the “customers who bought this also bought…” section on Amazon while I was looking up another book.
It caught my attention because I used to consider myself an artist a long time ago. Somewhere around 5th grade I started taking art lessons after school at an art supply & framing store. In high school, I took commercial art classes all 4 years and had entertained thoughts of going to CCS (then called Center for Creative Studies) in Detroit, the only art school I knew of. Computers weren’t used for much beyond basic word processing then so everything was still done by hand. The chiseled tip of a brand new Prismacolor marker was the best!
Back then, the only career advice I was given was to get a “good job that paid good money.” For fear of potentially being a “starving artist,” I got an engineering degree instead, a decision largely influenced by being awarded a full 4 year scholarship, which was nearly impossible to pass up. Taking the scholarship meant going to school as far away from home as possible but still in the same state, along with the challenge and bragging rights of surviving long isolated winters way up north in the U.P., not to mention the 4:1 guy:girl ratio. It was all good in my mind. I was ready to be independent. While I can’t imagine not having had that experience as part of my life, I had stuffed the whole art thing for many years, thinking that artist and engineer were mutually exclusive.
I had always been someone who falsely defined my identity and worth by what I do, thinking that different jobs had different status levels. Once my title of engineer was replaced with Mom, I started defining myself by the volunteer work I did at church, to avoid being “just a mom.” I am hopefully past that stage now, but I think the artist has always lingered in the background and maybe I am still an artist at heart.
I think it explains why I notice details around me (I think of art class and looking at objects and breaking them down into areas and shapes of different colors/shades and light reflections) and why I can’t get certain song lyrics out of my head. It’s why these
have been nagging at me for years to get them out of the box. I finally let the kids use them even though they were expensive, just so they didn’t completely go to waste.
It shouldn’t be so hard to do this, to do something I supposedly love and have missed, but I am also a perfectionist, afraid to take risks, afraid to fail. Afraid of not meeting my own expectations, not being able to accurately create what’s inside of my head outside of it. Maybe it’s the right brain battling the left brain? At any rate, I can relate to the gradual change in attitude from child to adult that Matt describes in his book. As adults our priorities change, we become more self-conscious and less risky than children, and start accepting a “good enough” life rather than the life we really want. He calls out what I have been admitting about myself for years: I am lazy.
Ultimately we are all creators. We are made in the image of the Creator. The question is what do we want to create? The answer is either something beautiful or something ugly. I knew the answer before even reading this book, before I read the question. I want to “add to the beauty” as Sara Groves says. It’s why I’ve taken so many pictures in the last couple years. I want to share what beauty I see. Creating beauty is not just about art though, it is about life. It is not only about changing my life for the better, but about making the world a better place, which could be done through something as simple as an encouraging word or a helpful deed. Unfortunately better isn’t easier. It’s easier to do nothing or speak careless words. I’m trying to remember that better is worth the effort.
We’ve cooked lots of stuff out at the fire pit and on the grill with charcoal, but now the ol’ Weber kettle is becoming a makeshift wood fire oven. We’ve cooked pizza several times just on the grate, but Steve wanted to try some unglazed clay tiles, aka super cheap pizza stone. First up on the tiles was bread (same basic artisan recipe I normally cook indoors on a pizza stone).
Next time we’ll add the tiles later in the game so they don’t get so hot. The bottom of the bread got totally burned, but it was easily salvageable (just a thin crust sliced off). I forgot to check my watch, but the baking time was less than the usual 30 minutes.
Something tells me that this is going to evolve into a full blown brick/clay pizza & bread oven next. But where to put it?
As usual for a Monday (or any day really), I have a song stuck in my head from our Sunday church gathering. I’ve listened to it a few more times since.
There’s a part near the end of the song that gets me thinking.
“There are so few words that never grow old…”
Most of the song is literally old words, with the verses written by Charles Wesley in 1739. A chorus and bridge added in recent years make it possible for these old words to not grow old.
There are words that do grow old though. Death, destruction, the darkness that is sin, including my own. I get tired of hearing the same words after a while, like complaints, including my own, or certain songs that are overplayed on the radio.
But there are also things that I never grow tired of, like
The words I especially don’t grow tired of are the unsolicited verbal “thank you” or the “sorry” and “love” notes from my kids.
This isn’t meant to be an exhaustive list, just the first things that came to mind.
I’m curious, what are some other things that don’t grow old?
The company Steve works for rented out the whole Fifth Third Ballpark & AJ’s for a picnic/carnival on Saturday. The kids had fun. Cale was especially enthralled by the perfect grass down on the field.
(some of my favorite pics of perennials/wildflowers seen in the lost forest from may through today)
