Ogden Nash strikes again

Some ladies smoke too much and some ladies drink too much and some ladies pray too much,
But all ladies think that they weigh too much.
They may be as slender as a sylph or a dryad,
But just let them get on the scales and they embark on a doleful jeremiad:
No matter how low the figure the needle happens to touch,
They always claim it is at least five pounds to much;
To the world she may appear slinky and feline,
But she inspects herself in the mirror and cries, Oh, I look like a sea lion.
Yes, she tells you she is growing into the shape of a sea cow or manatee,
And if you say No, my dear, she says you are just lying to make her feel better, and if you say Yes, my dear, you injure her vanity.

Once upon a time there was a girl more beautiful and witty and charming than tongue can tell,
And she is now a dangerous raving maniac in a padded cell,
And the first indication her friends and relatives had that she was mentally overwrought
Was one day when she said, I weigh a hundred and twenty-seven, which is exactly what I ought.

Oh, often I am haunted
By the thought that somebody might someday discover a diet that would let ladies reduce just as much as they wanted,
Because I wonder if there is a woman in the world strong-minded enough to shed ten pounds or twenty,
And say There now, that’s plenty;
And I fear me one ten-pound loss would only arouse the craving for another,
So it wouldn’t do any good for ladies to get their ambition and look like somebody’s fourteen-year-old brother,
Because, having accomplished this with ease,
They would next want to look like somebody’s fourteen-year-old brother in the final stages of some obscure disease,
And the more success you have the more you want to get of it,
So then their goal would be to look like somebody’s fourteen-year-old brother’s ghost, or rather not the ghost itself, which is fairly solid, but a silhouette of it.

So I think it is very nice for ladies to be lithe and lissome.
But not so much so that you cut yourself if you happen to embrace or kissome.

-Ogden Nash, "Curl Up and Diet"

Nothing so uncomfortable

"I think [certain people] object to clarity of thought and definition because of its demands. The most comfortable type of religion is always a vague religion, nebulous and uncertain, cluttered up with forms and ritual . . . There is nothing so uncomfortable as clear-cut Biblical truths that demand decisions."

-D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression

Recommendations

Planting an amaryllis. This probably comes too late for this year, but ours is in full bloom and it's just gorgeous-- I will definitely get one again next fall. Actually, I'm going to try to keep this one alive for next year, as supposedly it's a perennial. We shall see.

Reading Calvin's Institutes one chapter at a time. That's one of my plans for the new year. So far so good. I love reading not only straight Scripture, but the meditations of godly men and women on that Scripture. The first section of the Institutes is incredibly rich, and I'm only a few chapters in. Calvin starts with how humans are barred from knowing God rightly because of their sin; in that state, then, we are completely dependent on the Lord Himself (through His Word and the help of the Holy Spirit) if we are to know God at all, let alone come into full fellowship with Him. It's a wondrous thing that we even have the Scriptures . . . this passage of the Institutes is definitely rekindling my love for the Word.

Drinking Swiss Vervaine Melange from Teavana. With a bit of raw honey. Delicious.

Using Goo Gone to remove pine sap from Christmas tree stands, labels from jars, and almost any gummy residue you can think of. I love it, and have found many more uses than I expected for it.

Corralling clutter . . . in baskets, on platters, in jars. My salt and pepper, butter, and garlic used to be independent little objects sliding about the kitchen counter. Now I have them all on a white ceramic plate. So I know exactly where they are, and it just looks nicer (like how a picture looks better in a frame). And even though my hairdryer, curling iron, and straightener still make a tangled mess, they are contained in a nice wooden crate rather than falling out of the cabinet when I open the door!

Experimenting with spices. It's really easy for me to get stuck in a rut, and just swapping out a few spices can completely change a dish. Dill in quiche? Paprika and allspice on baked chicken? Let's try. Nothing revolutionary, but tweaks like that make dinner different and interesting, and that is important to me.

Browsing Remodelista and Jamie Oliver's website. Er, maybe I shouldn't take my own advice on this quite so often . . .

As per request

Several people have asked for this recipe. Vox populi, vox dei, so without any further delay . . .

Cranberry Crumb Bars

(a festive riff on this Smitten Kitchen recipe)

Filling:

4-5 cups whole cranberries, fresh or frozen

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons flour

3-4 tablespoons lemon juice

Crust:

3 cups flour

1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

scant 1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup (2 sticks) cold butter

1 large egg

1) Preheat oven to 375 degrees, and lightly coat a 9x13 pan with nonstick spray.

2) Toss filling ingredients together in medium bowl, making sure berries are nicely coated.

3) Stir together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt for crust in another bowl. Cut in butter and egg till crumbly.

4) Dump half of the crust mixture into prepared pan, and press down tightly. (I do a bit more than half, actually, because I like a lighter layer on top so you can see the beautiful red berries showing through.) Pour filling mixture across bottom crust, and shake pan to spread the cranberries evenly. Sprinkle remaining crust mixture over berries.

5) Bake for 45 minutes, or until fairly firm in the center and slightly brown on top. Cool on rack, and chill before slicing. Can serve chilled or at room temperature; these freeze well. Keep any leftovers in the refrigerator.

I really love these. The tart pop of cranberry and lemon against a buttery, sweet crust is fantastic. Perfect for parties . . . or lunchboxes.

Last year, this year, next year

One year ago: I was ironing tablecloths for our wedding reception, packing up for our honeymoon, and getting ready to drive off to the rehearsal. Weird.

This year: I am ironing my husband's shirts, packing pots and pans into my own dishwasher, and getting ready to celebrate our first anniversary. Weirder.

Next year: Only God knows. I think it'll be good.