Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Debt-Free Vacations On A Budget



In two days we leave for a 10-day, 2500-mile, eleven state, 3-vehicle (1 van, 2 motorcycles), 6-person vacation. And it is all paid for before we even step foot out of our door.

All of it is paid. As in the food. The lodging. The gasoline. The admission fees. The tolls. The souvenirs. Even the last minute vehicle tune-ups were all paid in advance.

How? Budgeting. Saving. Sacrificing the “I want it now!” feelings for the “It will be worth it to go on vacation completely debt free” feelings.

JP and I are mainly a one-income family. By being so, we have sacrificed several materialistic parts of what could have been our lives. The thing is, that most of the time, we do not even want that which we do not have. I suppose that has to do with being missionaries in third-world countries. Your perception of money and possessions totally change in that situation. More on that in a later post.

While we are ok with not having the best and greatest of everything, we were not ok with giving up our travel. JP and adore traveling. We have been all over the world, and all over the United States.

Since we were unwilling to give up travel, and since we are unwilling to go into debt in order to travel, we needed a game plan. First part of plan: We started carrying our lunches. All three of us.

JP goes to work five days a week. We decided he would carry lunch four of those days so that he could go out with coworkers on Fridays. Lunch out is about $6. $6 x 4 days = $24 a week. $24 x 50 (take out 2 weeks for vacation time) = $1200 a year.

I eat at home, or take my lunch with me, everyday, except Fridays.  $6 x 4 = $24 a week. $24 x 50 = $1200 a year.

Little Bug packs her lunch from home all five days of school. Lunch is about $2. $2 x 5 = $10 a week. $10 x 36 weeks = $360 a school year.

$2760 a year than we saved by packing our lunch. We were able to set aside the greater portion of that money to be used on our vacation. It is all divided up and ready for our trip.

Second part of plan: Find people that you can, and want, to travel with, and ask them to share the expense. We have found that we do not travel well with all of our friends and family. While we are on vacation, JP and I like to go, go, go all day. That does not work well with friends or family that just want to sit on a beach or in a hotel room all day. I am not saying that that is wrong, I am just saying that clearly those two vacation types do not mesh well together.

JP and I found three friends that have the same interests and the same vacation goals as we do. By going as a group, we are able to divide the costs of everything, making it more affordable, and fun, to go.

Other tips for the tight-budgeted traveler…pack your lunch. Many hotels (such as ours) have a free breakfast available. By eating lunch out of the cooler, you can save a bundle of time and money. You do not have to wait to eat, and you do not have to take the time to find a place, sit down, order, and eat. In our past travels, we have found some great picnic areas and roadside parks. Places we would have never even known about if we had not stopped to picnic in them. We always try to eat supper at a local, mom and pop place that we ask locals to recommend.

Book hotels months in advance. We have found that the farther out you book, the better the deal will be.  The last trip we went on, we got a $200 a night room for $50. Twice. We also found that if you seek out the mom and pop hotels, you not only get a better rate, you get better service as well.

So, as you plan your next vacation getaway, think about ways that you can save money for your trip, and ways that you can cut costs as you travel.

Enjoy the beginning of summer, my friends. I will be off of blogging until we return from a much-needed time away. I will see you on the flipside!

~Annie

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Missing My Daddy



Nine years ago today, my father died. What are you supposed to do on the anniversary of your father’s death?

The thing that I will do is remember. I will remember and I will write down those memories so that my daughter, and her daughters, and every future generation know my story. My love. My relationship, with my dad.

My dad was not easy to love most of the time. He was stubborn. Angry. Deceptive. Manipulative. I loved him, however. He was my daddy, and I was his little girl. His Sarah Anne. His Pumpkin Head. I was his little girl, and he was my daddy.

My first memory of my dad, was teaching my Sunday school class. He taught me the books of the Bible. He also taught me Psalms 1. This chapter of the Bible had comforted him while he was in Vietnam. I still know it to this day. When I was 3, I would climb on his belly and bounce on him while reciting the books of the Bible and Psalms 1, while the poor man tried to breathe.

At some point in my childhood, my family (Mom, Dad, Mel and me) played softball in the front yard. It only happened once, but I loved every minute of it. We used old margarine containers for bases and a mush ball. What a time!

Dad used to mow the yard once a week, and I was always invited to sit on his lap or ride in the wagon as he went. I even got to steer! I thought I was big stuff, or at least I thought I was.

In September of 1981, my dad bought me an ancient pony. She lived a grand total of 3 days, but by then, I was hooked. From that day on, we had ponies and horses in our lives, until the end of his.

 Dad spent weekends doing pony rides all day long, then hauling me to the local horse shows and rodeos so that I could compete on my favorite horses, Ty and Dazzler. He would work all summer long and still help me with my rodeo schedule and fair time. Dad was my biggest fan at every horse show. I could hear him yelling for me, no matter where I was in the show arena.

October of 1991, I got my driver's permit. He made me drive home. The 1982 Chevy 4x4 dually, with a 454 engine and a manual transmission, eventually became known as "The Beast" to me, and I loved it. However, that day. The first day, I was petrified. I thought my dad was nuts, but he patiently, and courageously taught me the ins and outs of highway driving. (I had been driving around the farm since I was 9.)

Dad hauled me to every 4-H and FFA meeting that I had. He encouraged me to go to college. Once I left second grade, he could no longer help me with my homework, but I knew he was proud of me. I loved him for that.

When dad got sick and had to live at the Veteran's Home in Lafayette, I would visit twice a week. I would take him to a store, and he would want to wander without me, leaving me behind as his motorized wheelchair took off. I would follow the noises of displays being knocked over, picking up as I went.  When he could no longer locate me, he would start to yell, "PUMPKIN HEAD!!!!!" over and over at the top of his voice, trying to get my attention. I would run in the complete opposite direction.

Life went on with dad, having wheelchair races up and down his hallway, eating meals in his cafeteria, singing solos at his chapel on Sundays. Life went on, until it didn’t anymore.

I got the first call from his doctors on a sunny spring morning. Dad was failing fast and they needed to reconfirm the "do not resuscitate" orders on his chart. I was called in from my classroom to talk to the doctor. There I stood, in the school's office, telling the doctor that yes, if my dad dies, let him die. Yes, this is what he wants. Yes, I am sure. Yes, I will be okay.

The second call was to tell me to come soon, he was asking for me. JP and I walked into his room and he awoke. I greeted him and he squeezed my hand asking me to sing hymns to him. So I did. 

I sang hymn after hymn, after hymn. I sang all of his favorites...What A Friend We Have In Jesus. When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder. In The Garden. Holy, Holy, Holy. I Surrender All. Trust And Obey. Until I could remember no more.

I then sat and held his hand. Dad was tired and I knew we had to go. Deep down , I knew this was the last time I would see him. I hugged him and kissed him and told him I loved him. He squeezed my hand and said, "I love you too, Pumpkin Head." I walked out of his room, down the hallway, got on the elevator. As the elevator doors shut, I knew that the doors of my childhood had shut as well.

My dad was failing very quickly on a day that happened to be my mom’s birthday. As mom sat there with him, she leaned over and whispered, “Mel, please don’t die on my birthday. Please do not do that to me.” He asked a nurse to let him know when it was midnight. He requested he be told, even if she didn’t think he could hear her. At midnight, the nurse leaned over and told him the time. Twenty minutes later, my Dad went to meet Jesus. His final gift to my mom was holding on until May 28 to let go of this world.

My dad had asked me to give the eulogy at his funeral. It was so much harder than I thought it would be. I have yet to work through some of the emotions that I have in regards to my dad dying. A few years ago, I even dialed his old number to tell him something. How do you forget that your dad has been dead for 9 years? I guess you can. I guess I did.

I miss you, Dad. I miss your corny jokes, your teasing ways, and your love for me. I only wish that you could have lived long enough to know Little Bug. People say she is just like I was when I was her age. I am pretty sure you would have gotten along like peas in a pod.


~Annie

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Monday, May 27, 2013

Happy Birthday To My Sweet Mama



Happy, happy birthday to my sweet mama. Because of her, I am the woman that I am today. Through her never ending love, encouragement, and support, I have overcome life's great travesties. 

She is my hero. My rock. My mom. Today will be a day she will never forget as long as she lives. I am so happy for her and so excited to share her special day with her. 

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

~Annie

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Doey’s Super Yummy No-Sugar, No-Dairy Chocolate






A few months ago, I found out that I was allergic to all things dairy and all things containing sugar. I mourned for all of my sweet treats, chocolate being at the top of the list.

My best friend, Doey, found this amazing recipe, subsequently rescuing me from the utter despair of a future with no chocolate. It is so easy to make and so delicious!

Doey’s Super Yummy No-Sugar, No-Dairy Chocolate



  • Add the following in a blender
    1. ½ cup coconut oil
    2. ½ cup cocoa powder
    3. ½ cup almond butter or peanut butter
    4. ¼ cup raw honey or real maple syrup
    5. ½ tsp. vanilla


  • Mix until smooth.

  • Poor into small paper cups or molds.

  • Refrigerate until ready to serve. These chocolates must remain chilled until you are ready to eat them. They will literally melt in your hands. Why, you might ask? Because they are with all natural ingredients, sans extra chemicals and stabilizers.

I hope you enjoy this absolutely yummy recipe as much as my family does. It is great for people with allergies, or families that are intentionally eating less of  processed foods.


“There's nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate.”~
Linda Grayson.

~Annie

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Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Annie’s Surefire Mosquito Bite Remedy




Tonight I strolled out to work in my garden and to help JP put up rabbit-proof fencing. In the 30 minutes we were outside, I received literally over 100 mosquito bites.

I took a shower as soon as I walked inside. While it curbed the extreme itching a bit, I was still highly uncomfortable. So I quickly fell back to my old mosquito bite remedy: ammonia.
Annie’s Surefire Mosquito Bite Remedy
  • Wet a cotton ball with ammonia.
  • Dab onto all affected areas. (be sure to do this in a well ventilated area.
Most people have never heard of this remedy, yet it works quickly and effectively every time. Ammonia is a base, or alkali, and alkalies neutralize acids. Most bug stings are acid based, like wasp and ant venom. So dabbing ammonia on the sting will help neutralize the acid.
As soon as I finished applying the ammonia, the itching started to dissipate. Within fifteen minutes, the itching of over one hundred mosquito bites was gone.
This remedy has worked for our family for years. Most insect bite remedies that are sold in stores are ammonia based. Our family carries small tubes of an over-the-counter version called Afterbite with us in each vehicle, in my purse, and in our first aid kit. It comes in a great travel size, and can be purchased in any drug store. I find ours at Walgreens.
Afterbite also comes in a children’s version as well. We have used it on Little Bug for years, with excellent results.
 Little Bug is allergic to mosquito bites, so we must act quickly to keep her from having a very serious reaction. Ever since we have used the ammonia remedy, Little Bug no longer has the huge swelling and hives that were so common in the early years.
I hope this post helps y’all in your battle against mosquitoes this season. Enjoy your time outdoors, and make sure to pack the ammonia.


I am in no way getting paid to endorse Afterbite. I just happen to think it is a great product when you are on the go and need to treat mosquito bites.
“ The man is happiest who lives from day to day and asks no more, garnering the simple goodness of life.” ~Euripides.

~Annie

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Moore, Oklahoma: "Boys Are Safe. House And Stuff Gone."


Photo taken amidst the rubble of Monday's tornado in Moore, Oklahoma


After learning of the devastating tornadoes in Moore, Oklahoma yesterday, my heart stopped as I frantically sought out information on friends that live in this bedroom community of Oklahoma City.

A few hours passed with no word, as I anxiously prayed that all was well and perhaps they were just unable to contact the outside world.

A quick Facebook post brought an uneasy sigh of relief, as I read that they were alive. However, the next sentence struck me with the force of a freight train. “Boys are safe. House and stuff gone.”

“House and stuff gone.” Our friends’ sons were home when the tornado hit their home. They got out alive. The house was damaged by the high winds of the tornado. Then, to add insult to injury, the house caught on fire, destroying any remnants of hope of salvaging any of their belongings.

If you have seen news footage of a burning house amidst the destruction, you have seen their home. The home where they had raised their boys, the home that they moved when the husband had taken on a leadership position at a local Bible college. The home where they had made unforgettable memories as a family.

It is now all gone. But is it really? Physically, yes, the house and their possessions are gone. But the memories still remain. While the clothes, the furniture, the walls, the vehicles, and knickknacks have been destroyed, their lives have been saved.

They are alive. Amidst all the ruin that is being flashed across the television screens across the country, amidst all the heartbreaking stories that continue to come out of yesterday’s brutal storms, amidst all of the tears our country has shed for the helpless victims, I keep reminding myself that they are alive to tell their story.

Sadly, not all were as fortunate as my friends. As the death toll rises, I somberly reflect on what each death means to his or her loved ones. As crews frantically sift through the wreckage of elementary schools that were hit, I pray for good news.

Every story I hear, every testimonial, every first-hand account, makes me put myself in the place of the victims. As one woman explained, she and her husband saved their daughter’s life as the tornado tried to take her by grabbing, and holding onto, her hair. I wept openly. An immense feeling of horror overwhelms me every time I think of how those parents felt, watching their daughter be pulled away from them by the tornado, yet being able to grasp her by the hair and hold onto her, for literally, dear life. They are alive to tell their story.

The tenacity of the human spirit is immeasurable. Moore, Oklahoma will rebuild. Possessions will be replaced. Our country will rally around our hurting brothers and sisters, helping in any way possible.

We will mourn as a nation for those lives that were lost. They will live on in our collective memories, and through the lives that they have touched.

What we are reminded of by the events of yesterday is this: the most important things in life aren’t things. They are the lives of those we hold dear. May we live each day with purpose. With intentional joy and thanksgiving. With love for one another. 

May we celebrate life. Always. For we know not when we will lose it.

"The most important things in life aren't things." - Anthony J. D'Angelo

~Annie

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Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Annie’s Husk-on Steamed Sweet Corn-On-The-Cob




It is getting to that time of year again where the markets and groceries are full of sweet corn, still on the cob.

Until a few years back, I would always get a glimmer of excitement, grab up a dozen, and take them home. To sit. And look at me. And go bad. I had sweet corn guilt.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to eat the sweet corn. Nope, that wasn’t it at all. Its just that it seemed like so much work to husk it, get a huge pot of water boiling, and cook the ears up.

So much hot work. In the middle of summer. Ugh. So most of the time, my good intentions of having sweet corn-on-the-cob for my family, went right out the door along with the spoiled corn.

Then I learned of an easy-peasy, cool way to prepare corn-on-the-cob in even the hottest weather. Your summer meals will never be the same.

Annie’s Husk-on Steamed Sweet Corn-On-The-Cob

  • Select your ears of corn. Try to get medium sized ears that are not soft or have a bad smell. Small ears do not have fully developed kernels, and large ears have over ripe kernels.
  • Strip off the outer husks. I always try to make sure to get those that are brownish and longer off of the ear. While you are at it, go ahead and pull off as much silk as you can by grabbing the end of it and playing tug-of-war between the silk and the ear.
  • Place in microwave. You can use a plate if you wish, but I never do. I just place it right into the microwave. When I am finished, I can easily wipe away any stray silks or husk pieces.
  • Set microwave to high for 2 minutes per ear of corn, with a minimum of 4 minutes. So, if you just have one ear, set it for 4 minutes. 2 ears, for 4 minutes. 5 ears for 10 minutes, and so on. If you are doing a dozen ears, that is 24 minutes.
  • Check one ear, toward the bottom of the pile, to see if it is done. Be very careful. The corn will be extremely hot. Check corn by pulling back a bit of the husk and pressing your thumbnail into a kernel. It should be relatively soft. If it is not, set the microwave for two more minutes, (five more minutes for a large batch), then check again, repeating the process until corn is cooked to your liking.
  • Corn may be left in microwave until you ready to eat it, or may be taken out. I like to set it on the table, wrapped in a dishtowel, in order to keep the heat in. Corn will stay warm for up to 30 minutes while in the husks.
  • In our family, we let each person husk their own ear of corn, as they get ready to eat it. We also give everyone or two people a plastic bag to place their husks and silks in. (These are later fed to the goat and pony.) the corn will be hot, so it is best if little ones do not do this step unless you are sure that the corn has cooled. The silks will fall right off as you husk each ear.
  • Butter, salt, and pepper to taste.

And there you have it. A quick, cool, and easy way to enjoy sweet corn-on-the-cob all summer long.

Stay tuned for an easy and quick way to put up freezer corn in a coming post!

Enjoy your day, always remembering to live life to the fullest!

~Annie

 

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Thursday, May 9, 2013

How The Numbers Game Has Broken Down The Educational System Of Our Nation



A friend of mine asked me my thoughts on this student’s rant at his teacher that was captured on cell phone video. I am asked multiple times each week what I think of today’s current education model in our schools, so I decided to explain it here.

While the student could have expressed himself in a more appropriate way, I do believe that he expressed himself in the one way that will make people stand up and take notice.

If he would have written a lovely, polite letter to the principal, superintendent, and school board, it may or may not have been read, then set aside to collect dust. Not because it wasn’t true. Not because it wasn’t right. Not because they do not agree, but because his proposed method of teaching went out the window when the numbers game of student education entered the room.

As a former teacher and PhD student in Educational Psychology, I can attest that this young man is right. Children learn better with face-to-face interaction. They learn better when engaged in the material that is being presented. They learn better when it seems that those around them see them as individuals and not nameless faces being herded from one classroom to the next.

Sure there are those students that will thrive with today’s educational model, with all of it’s packets, PowerPoint presentations, smart board reviews, and strict scheduling.

However, Gardner’s Multiple Intelligencesshows us that people learn and connect with the world in all sorts of ways. Some learn best through song. Others through movement. Still others through use of color. Learning is a very complex action, not one that can be carbon copied for each child.

In order for true learning to take place, teachers must have the freedom to be facilitators of learning, not just presenters of knowledge. Teachers must have the freedom to stop the always-forward marching of the educational machine so that they can re-teach a basic skill that may not be completely understood.

Each child is different. Each teacher is different. Each classroom becomes a complex mix of complicated relationships. No one student is identical to any other student when it comes to learning, attitude, actions, and motivation.

Each child has his or her own learning style. Most teachers recognize this. Most teachers strive to reach every student. This is done best by teaching each child in the learning style with which they work best.

Yes, this means that each teacher is teaching in multiple learning styles daily. Yes this means that each teacher is spending extra hours daily preparing each lesson plan for students. Yes, this means that most teachers believe that the children under their tutelage are worth it.

However, here is the thing. As of late, most teachers have become severely limited in what they are able to do in their own classrooms. Gone are the days of training teachers and letting them get to work in their classrooms. Gone are the days of “teacher knows best.” Gone are the days of reviewing missed ideas and basic math skills for an extra 45 minutes.

Where did they go? They went by the wayside when state regulations took over.

Teachers nationwide are now struggling to just stay afloat in their classrooms. With the introduction of state standards, merit pay, and graded schools; came the ever-increasing pressure to present more and more information to today’s students in hopes that they will score higher and higher on the standardized tests that each child must take at least once if not more, times each year.

While state standards, merit pay and graded schools look great on paper, once implemented in our nation’s schools, they are the beginning of a downward spiral in education.

State standards, or what each child should know at each grade level, are a great benchmark and guide for a teacher. However, it is next to impossible for a teacher to present, let alone truly teach to the point of mastery, each of the multiple standards on which  each child will be tested. This sets up not only the teacher, but also each student, for failure in the standardized testing game. Instead of being concerned about what each student actually learns in a year, it becomes more important to know what each student scored on a test.

These scores are important to teachers, not only as a gauge to what their students understand and the knowledge they have acquired, but also because their students’ test scores now tie in directly to what each teacher is paid. This pressure to have the best students and highest test scores has led to a break down in the foundations of education.

Standardized test scores also become important for each school as a whole. Government has decided to assign a grade to each school. A huge portion of this grade comes from test scores of the students. The very future of each school relies on that one grade.

So here we have school corporations pressuring teachers to pressure students to get the highest grade possible on a computerized test because the future of the school corporation and the livelihoods of the teachers are at stake.

At what point did education become less about the student and more about a numbers game? At what point did we, as parents, decide that this was alright? At what point did we decide that the education of our children belong solely in the hands of the government?

I am in classrooms and schools on a daily basis. I see first hand the dedication and perseverance of the teachers of our nation. I see the commitment of the administrators. I see the drive of the staffs of our nation’s schools to help each child succeed.

However, this dedication, commitment, perseverance, and drive are superceded by the regulatory mandates set out by the government. Administrators, teachers, and staff must now work within the confines of what government officials deem best.

While I do understand this young man’s frustrations, I believe he directed them toward the wrong party. Our teachers and administrators are doing the best they can with what little freedom they have.

Many have called for educational reform. While I do agree that reform is needed, I believe that we must start, not in the classrooms of our schools, but in the statehouses of our nation.

~Annie 
 
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Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Why This Mama Will Never Shop At Abercrombie and Fitch



Today I read a very disturbing article. In it, the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch relays what he thinks of those that are not part of the “beautiful people” set. Take, for instance, this snippet from the article…

 “As far as Jeffries is concerned, America’s unattractive, overweight or otherwise undesirable teens can shop elsewhere. “In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids,” he says. “Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either.”

Seriously?!?!? The article goes on to tell how 61-year-old Mike Jefferies plans to attract, and keep, only the “cool kids.” He explains that they hire only “good looking” people in their stores. His theory is that good-looking people will attract other good-looking people.

Jefferies also banned any women’s sizes larger than size 10. His reasoning is that those over size 10 are undesirables, and he does not want undesirables seen in A&F clothing, nor in his stores.

I was actually speechless for several minutes after reading the article. I read the article again, hoping to make sense of what I was reading.

Why on earth would we, as parents, support such an outlandish attack on our children? I would never allow someone to call Little Bug undesirable, fat, unattractive, etc., so why on EARTH are parents not only allowing it, but supporting it by purchasing clothes from this retail chain?

It blows my mind that America’s teens, who are at a very vulnerable point in their lives, are subjected to stores that truly believe that only the blessed few “lucky ones” should shop there.

When did this bigotry become socially acceptable? And who gets to decide who is beautiful? Handsome? Cool?

As a former teacher, I have seen every size and shape walk through my door. I love each child and celebrate him or her for who they are, not what they look like. Shame on Mr. Jefferies for excluding those that are not in accordance to how he thinks a person should look, and shame on Abercrombie and Fitch for encouraging his behavior.

Mr. Jefferies states that no mother is going to protest her child wearing clothing from A&F. Sir, this is your first mistake. This mama will protest, loud and proud. My Little Bug will never wear your clothing. There are several other wonderful stores and outlets from which to choose.

While I could easily fit into the clothing in your stores, I will never step foot into one of your stores again. I understand that you believe yourself to be one of the “cool kids,” and therefore able to call the shots. However, here is the thing, Mr. Jefferies. You can only stay “cool” for so long.

 It really is true that the “nerds” rule the world. I am a nerd. I am also a mama. And hell hath no fury like a nerdy mama protecting her cubs from insolent fools of this world.

~Annie

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Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Our Home




Fourteen years ago today, a young, naïve, and eager couple moved to a tiny little hamlet of a long ago town.

After two years of searching for the perfect home, they settled into a home that is now 83 years young. It came complete with a 45 years old pole barn. The house and barn were set upon five acres of land. It was here that the young couple decided to raise their future family.

Both had been raised out in the country. The man raised in Tennessee; the woman in northwest Indiana. Both knew of the charm of country living. The work. The responsibilities. The joy. Both also knew that this is where they were choosing to live.

While in the decision-making process of buying a home, The young man was concerned about the one hour and fifteen minute one-way commute to work for himself, and the one hour commute for his wife. He wondered allowed to his mother-in-law if this was a good choice. The wise words of her answer still ring in his ears today, “Where you work is just that, work. Where you live is where you make your life.”

The young couple, just starting out in life was JP and me. I was working on my second degree, and he was entering his third year as an engineer. We knew what we wanted from life and set out to achieve it.

While we still live on our five acres, the looks of it have changed a bit. We now have a garden, an orchard, a chicken coop, a rabbit pen, a fenced-in pasture, a fenced-in yard, a trail system, and multiple trees, bushes, and flowers.

We have truly turned our little piece of the world into a home. While we work hard to keep it this way and make the ever-needed improvements, we love our little homestead.

While keeping with our belief to stay away from debt as much as possible, we paid off our fifteen-year mortgage in eleven years. We were able to do so by not buying into the debt trap as readily as I once had. For the beginning on that story, click here.

Our home is 800 square feet of living space. While small by today’s standards, we find it is the perfect size for JP, Little Bug, and myself. Whenever I feel a little claustrophobic, I remind myself that we have less to clean, less to heat, and less to light. I also remind myself that there are only three of us living here, and that we have plenty of room, especially by international standards.

Our biological family has just three members, however, our extended and eclectic families are much, much larger. With 40 mentor children over the years, plus all of our friends that have become our eclectic family, our little home has been stuffed to twice-capacity more than once. For several years when our mentor children were in their teen years, it was nothing to walk out of our bedroom and have to step over people that were sacked out all over our floors. Our home has always been filled with love and welcome to all that have needed a refuge from life’s struggles.

JP eventually changed jobs. I eventually became a stay-at-home mom to Little Bug. Our work and school lives changed dramatically, but our little homestead remained the same.  My sweet mama was right when she gave her sage advice, “Where you work is just that, work. Where you live is where you make your life.”

Live your day to the fullest, my friends. Never let fear control you. Conquer that fear with the courage to go after what you are called to do in life, and everyday, choose joy.

~Annie

Monday, May 6, 2013

CC’s Tomato And Green Bean Salad




A few years ago, my friend, CC, brought a Tomato and Green Bean salad to one of our get-togethers. It was so delicious that I simply had to have the recipe. And now I want to share it with you.

I love to make this salad in the summer. It is great for summer parties, church potlucks, evening meals, and afternoon snacks. It is also extremely easy to make and store.

CC’s Tomato And Green Bean Salad

  • Grab a bunch of green beans and snap or cut the ends off. I usually get 1-2 pounds, depending on how many people will be eating the salad.
  • Place beans in metal colander.
  • Wash beans.
  • Heat large pot of water to boiling.
  • Place metal colander and beans into boiling pot of water.
  •  
  • Cover.
  • Leave alone for two minutes.
  • Stir beans around, making sure that all of the beans get a chance to be in the water.
  • Leaves alone for two more minutes.
  • Grab one bean and take a bite. Beans should still be slightly crunchy.
  • Remove from boiling water. Place under cold, running water, rinsing for at least two minutes. This will cool the beans down quickly so the cooking process stops.
  •  
  • Place beans in large bowl.
  • Wash desired amount of cherry or grape tomatoes. Add. I like to use ½ -1 pound in each salad.
  •  
  • Add to large bowl of beans.
  • Lightly drizzle olive oil all over beans and tomatoes.
  • Sprinkle sea salt over mixture, stirring to ensure full coverage.
  •  
  • Chill for at least one hour.

I use this salad as a wonderful addition to my lunches while I am out working in the fields. It does not get mushy. I do not have to worry about it spoiling in the heat. It is light and refreshing. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do!


"Don't waste your life in doubts and fears: spend yourself on the work before you, well assured that the right performance of this hour's duties will be the best preparation for the hours or ages that follow it." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson.

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~Annie

Friday, May 3, 2013

Teammates






After almost sixteen years of marriage, I would say that JP and I still make a pretty good team. I love times like the one shown in the photo. JP and I were pulling out an old fence row in order to build a new fence for Little Bug's pony.

Sometimes we all need a little reminder about who truly is important in life. Those people that will be there for you, no matter the circumstances. Those people that make great teammates throughout your life. I challenge you to recognize those people today and celebrate them fully.

Have a lovely day, my friends. Always choose joy, and always live your life to the fullest!

~Annie

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Things I Learned From An African Priest From Tanzania...





The following is the true story of my day-long encounter with Father Albert, a black African priest. It really happened to my best friend, Doey, and me in August of 2011.

 I volunteered to spend the day with Father Albert and show him a little bit of Northern Indiana. I also volunteered Doey. We decided to take Father Albert to Shipshewana, Indiana for a cultural lesson about the Amish. It is a decision I will never forget. Several people have asked me to post our story on my blog so others may enjoy it as much as they have.

Father Albert (Fr. Al) speaks English very well.  His English is much better than my Swahili. He also speaks 5 other tribal languages. With 7 languages under his belt, he is willing to stop and listen intently to the Amish women gossip in Pennsylvania Dutch, in hopes of grasping the meaning. This also means I kept losing Fr. Al. A lot.

I gave Fr. Al rules. Rules to live by with the Amish. The main one being not to take their pictures up close. This in no way deterred Fr. Al from grabbing hold of a poor Amish woman , stroking her dress and admiring it, then handing me the camera while he held her in a bear hug. Oh yes. That woman was so gracious. So sorry Amish lady, but he is from Africa.

We went to the donut place on 20. It seems to be rather famous. They offer free coffee, but Fr. Al doesn’t drink coffee. Tea is his drink of choice. It is 85 cents. Apparently most people go for the free coffee because when he ordered the tea, the lady kept saying the coffee was free. He just stood his ground and kept ordering his tea until he got it. My kind of guy!

He then wanted to sit down to eat the yummy donut holes. So I said ok. He then went and sat at someone's table with them, so I sat too. Doey, on the other hand kept on walking. Traitor. Oh my word. Did I mention that this day stretched me in the "it doesn’t matter what other people think, only what God thinks" category?

On our way to E and S Sales, I had a firm talking to with Fr Al. (ever have a firm talking to with a priest where YOU are the one talking?!?) I said UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES was he to take a close up picture with the Amish! That it was against their faith. He thought this very odd, but saw I wasn’t backing down, so he agreed.  I thought we were agreeing to no pictures close up. Nope. He was agreeing to covert operations.

We enter the store. He starts to do a seemingly one person photo shoot of me. All throughout the store. While we are in the check out line, he takes picture after picture of "me." I then see his camera. The entire time he was shooting past me or included several Amish families in the photos. Father Al was NOT to be deterred from his pictures of the Amish!

The first woman from the first photo shoot at the bakery happened to be in line behind us at the second store. She glanced around nervously the entire time. I really am sorry Amish lady.

Fr Al got to witness me  purchase 22 pounds of butter. I explained that it was a great deal and he was so pleased. I then taught him all about Amish free samples. That was brunch.

We left the store and walked to the van to put our purchases away before looking around some more. We lost Fr Al to the horses and buggies. He loved them. He loved them so much that he almost got ran over by multiple cars. He took MANY pictures of those lil guys.

We found a hammock seat that looked fun, but hard to get in and out of, so of course Julie and I talked the 49 years old priest into hopping in it. It was great watching him plop in and shuffle out! I have to say that he was literally up to doing ANYTHING!

One Amish store had 2 train whistles mounted at their shop. Silly people. Fr Al and I went nuts.

We left E and S, and went to Ace Hardware, one of my favorite shops in Shipshewana. It has many of the same things as the fancy shops, at a much lower price. Fr. Al carried my bag of purchases. Such a gentleman! He was all about the good deals and seeing where the "real" people of the area shop.

We met up with Phil and Arneta at the Blue Gate for lunch. Fr. Al had fried chicken. I had him sit by the "talkers," Phil and me. Arneta and Doey sat at the other "nontalkers" part of the table. Doey’s water and lunch were both dropped by the server. Fr Al was so immediately willing to share his. So sweet. Doey got her own lunch and Fr. Al got to eat his entire half of chicken in peace.

When I had asked what he wanted to order, he was hesitant, unsure of the menu and the food, so I explained things for him. When asked what he wanted to drink, he almost yelled, "MOUNTAIN DEW!" definitely no hesitation there!

 When we were walking out of the Blue Gate, Doey and I crossed the street, then noticed Fr. Al was not with us. My reaction? "Oh no! We lost the Father! Well, at least we still have the Holy Ghost!" At some point in the day, I had started going a little loopy.

We reclaimed Fr. Al from watching a nearby horse and proceed to the van. We get in, but another car had parked extremely close to us and we were hard placed to even get out. Once we did, a moron came at us the wrong way and we couldn’t drive forward. Doey was driving, so she slammed the van into reverse and hit the accelerator. We went FLYING backwards down the road. I was a tad nervous, but Fr. Al seemed to take it all in stride. Perhaps he thought this was normal. Perhaps he thought it was customary. Perhaps he felt completely comfortable with Doey and trusted her backwards-driving skills. I have no idea. All I know was that I felt MUCH better once we were moving FORWARD again!

We went to the flea market next. We wandered around about half of the market before we left due to an approaching storm. During the majority of this time, Fr. Al held my hand. Yep. i was out hand-holding at the Shipshewana  flea market with a 49 years old African priest. Andy, my friend that was hosting him, had told me that he is from a very affectionate culture, so I was prepared. Doey later told me that she was laughing her butt off.  Here I was, thanking God that he was holding MY hand and not trying to hold DOEY’S hand, and here she is laughing! She also informed me that I was a lovely shade of red the entire time.

While at the flea market, Fr. Al met another Amish woman and sat RIGHT NEXT to her. As in almost on top of her. He then proceeded to strike up a conversation. That went south in a hurry. As he stroked her dress (he was infatuated with their dresses), he asked if she had been to Africa...her: "No, we dont travel much, but I have heard of it." Fr. Al: "Are you a nurse? We need nurses." Her: "No. Amish don’t usually go on to higher education. We are not worldly like you." Fr. Al: (in disbelief) "What?!? Why?!?" Her: "Because we aren’t supposed to be worldly." Fr Al: "Who says so?!?" Her: (no answer) Fr. Al: "Well that seems stupid. You are in America, where there are universities everywhere and you don’t even use them. That is stupid!" Me: "Well now! Father Albert! We had better be going or we wont see all of the market before the rain, and I’m sure you want to tell the people back in AFRICA all about the market! (Insert fake cheeriness and urgent glances at Doey here )" (mouthed to the Amish lady sitting in shock: "I am SO SORRY!!!!") I guess when I gave the warnings for the Amish to watch out, I should have specified the Amish women, huh?

We did a quick stop at the cheese factory, but they were finished making cheese for the day. Fr. Al bought a few things that struck his fancy and we were off to the rectory to return Fr Al.

We exchanged email addresses (as if y'all are surprised), hugged, took pictures, hugged some more, hugged to the left, hugged to right, held hands and did a final round of hugs.

Father Albert was such a pleasant man to meet. Always happy. Never complaining. Always hoping to meet people that would help support this mission hospital through prayer or financially. What started out to be a favor to a friend, became an educational experience that I will never forget. Sure, I was embarrassed, nervous, scared, uncomfortable and humiliated a time or two, but I wouldn’t trade that day’s experience for the world.

The average annual income in his country is $500.  This means we spent half of the average yearly income on that day. How sobering. His mission runs a hospital; open to anyone that needs it. It is the only one for a hundred miles. People walk 100 miles to visit his clinic, which specializes in women, infants and children. He is an amazing man, with an amazing heart for the people of Tanzania. If you are interested in helping Father Albert and his mission, please let me know.

Until then, remember, JP was just fine with a 49-year-old  African priest holding my hand all day, but THAT is where he draws the LINE!  Good thing I have a hubby that understand other cultures.... we shall save the “Russian males kissing other males on the lips” custom for another day..... 

As Mark Twain said, "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it solely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one corner of the earth all one's lifetime."  

~Annie