HOT. HOT. HOT. Peppers that don't mess around with HOT

Getting married pretty makes anyone become domestic. It's kinda inevitable, especially in the cooking department for people like Rob and I who a.) live in the middle of nowhere where take-out/delivery is limited to Kuang's Chinese (and I am not a fan of Chinese food) and b.) would rather spend our money and our calories otherwise. 

So I cook. Actually Rob and I cook a lot together. Except for yesterday when we were having an impromptu picnic with friends and I decided to make homemade veggie pizza. Rob was gone, so I didn't know that the little, friendly looking peppers (pictured here looking so innocent) had actually been in a box at our CSA farm labeled "HOT, HOT, HOT". 

Rob, being the half Mexican he is (and yes, his friend from Mexico actually says that so I'm not being racist or anything) grabbed a handful. So picture me at my little Ikea island chopping these peppers up for pizza and eating wheat thins at the same time. My first clue that these peppers were dangerous impostors in pretty skins was when I brushed, (emphasis on brushed) my finger across my lip and my lip exploded in red hot burning pain. (A note here: I have very low pain tolerance. As Rob can attest, paper cuts severely hurt me and often "gush" blood. But the pain I describe through this post was pain like I've never known. Like someone was holding my body parts over an open flame kind of pain.) 

So while I'm drinking milk like it's my job, I dare Rob to eat one seed and he quickly joins me in the milk drinking. Meanwhile my nose starts running so I wipe it on a kitchen towel which unbeknownst to me had pepper juice in that one spot. So now, not only is my lip burning, I want to pull my nose off my face it hurts so bad. Rob thinks this is hilarious, hence this photo of me with an ice cube up my nose. (Actually, it was really funny and I thought so too). 

We scrapped the peppers obviously (we did not want to poison our friends with hot pepper pizza) and had a great dinner with them outside picnic style. Later, our friend Kyle came over to watch The Kite Runner (p.s. the book is definitely better, but the movie does a pretty good job of being accurate) and it was during the movie the tips of my left hand fingers started burning and tingling. I put them in ice first, but after Kyle left and we were getting ready to go to bed was when the horrible burning pain started. 

Rob started googling solutions for pepper burns so the first thing we did was a bowl of milk for me to soak my hand in. I felt like a cat except I wasn't drinking it. That worked while my hand was in the bowl, but as soon as I took it out the burning started again. Next we tried pain ointment. No luck -- that was worse. Next we tried cider vinegar. Again, it felt good while my hand was in it, but then more burning. Then Rob found that honey can be a good cure. So my genius husband got out some trusty bandaids and put a drop of honey on each pad and wrapped the bandaid around my burning fingertip. We thought we were pretty smart actually. 

Me being the practical one I am, I didn't want to get honey on our clean sheets so we put a spa sock over my hand. This entire time we're laughing hysterically, but I'm in so much pain it's almost not funny. But it really was funny. 

Well, that worked for about 10 minutes and by now it was about 11:00 and I'm getting stressed. As some of you know, I don't do so well without sleep and I was already thinking about work the next day. Rob, being the wonderful husband he is, got up and drove to Handy Andy for some Maalox because we'd read on our Google search that an antacid would neutralize the pain. 

Unfortunately, our Handy Andy is not a pharmacy (it's a gas station actually) so he came home with a $4.50 mini bottle of Pepto Bismal and this is how we spent the next half hour -- me soaking my hand in bubble gum pink Pepto. 

It actually worked. I'm serious -- the burning was soothed. We hopped into bed and I tried to fall asleep as quickly as I could before the burning started again. That lasted about 10 minutes and I was in agony again. 

It was my genius idea to create my Pepto cast. We poured the bottle of Pepto into a giant ziplock bag, sealed it to my wrist, wrapped the excess around my wrist, secured it with a rubberband, and put the spa sock back on it (for leak protection of course. No Pepto on my new sheets!) Ta Da! 

Ahhh....sweet relief. I did actually sleep then with my weird cast. For a few hours anyways. Later in the night it became mind over matter and I tried not to let the burning control me when I woke up, but it was still there. 

At 6 am this morning when the alarm went off and I removed the bag this is what my hand looked like.... 

It was so sick. Like something from a High School Musical alien -- bright, bubbly girl pink. The rubberband had actually cut off some of my circulation (should have used duct tape!) so my hand was swollen about twice its size, plus it was very wrinkly like I'd been in the bath tub for hours. To make matters worse, my skin and nails were literally stained pink. Bright Pepto pink. 

Some scrubbing in the shower took most of it off my skin and eventually the swelling went down so I could put my rings on, but the pink on my nails remained. In fact, as I write this, one hand has pink nails, the other normal. I've tried everything to get it off my nails and it has barely budged. And believe me it looks weird. My boss even commented that it looked like I'd missed a hand. (As an aside for you office fans, Rob suggested I go into work with my hand wrapped in bubble wrap like when Michael grilled his foot in the forman grill.) My boss would have loved that -- he's an Office fan. Unfortunately the rest of our board at the meeting this morning are not as avid fans and would have thought I'd lost it. 

Anyways, the moral of this story? 1. Wear gloves when cutting peppers. 2. Ask your husband how HOT the HOT HOT HOT is before even getting the peppers. And 3. Pepto Bismal WILL stain for possibly a long time. I'll let you know when I get my normal nails back. 

Labor Day Weekend in Small Town America

I've spent Labor Day in this town before, but never experienced it to the extent I did this Labor Day weekend. Bottom line: our town goes all out.

We started off the weekend Saturday morning by participating in the all town rummage sale. I grew up on the east coast where garage sales were the norm on Saturday morning and I remember my mom dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn to go and see what we could find. The "thrill of the hunt" was ingrained in me at a young age. Now apparently I'm forcing my husband to join the same club by making him get out of bed at 6:30 on a Saturday morning so we could go and put some stuff out at our friend's house. He was a good sport and we got to see this gorgeous sunrise.

By the time we got to where we were putting our stuff out, crowds of people were already there. It was seriously insane. All day it was like our town doubled in size by the amount of people coming to buy other people's junk. Rob wondered out loud how much of the stuff stays in town but changes houses. By the end of the day we ended up making $50 which we were very pleased with.

As a huge bonus we got to see every make and model of golf cart, ATV, scooter, and yes, even, homemade scooter known to man. I'm not kidding. Our two favorites by far were the homemade scooter complete with side car made from a plastic milk box. And yes, there was a woman perched precariously on it buzzing around town. Our second favorite we managed to get a picture of...

Yes, the golf cart on the right does have a huge plastic bass fish attached to the top of it. No joke. We laughed so hard.

Here are a few more photos from the adventures in rummage sales:

This was our landlord's beloved college chair which his wife told us to "send where all old chairs go." So we determined that to mean a guys floor at Taylor. We're pleased to report this chair is now living happily on Sammy 2.

All the stuff! Most of it was our friends trying to get rid of baby stuff. (Obviously not ours!) Everyone was pleased that a lot of things sold.

While at the rummage sale our friend told us we had to check out the Labor Day parade in downtown on Monday. In her words, "You will see everything ever made with a siren and even things that were not meant to have sirens, i.e. random cars. It's classic." Sure enough, Monday morning we heard sirens going off around 10:00 so we headed to downtown and experienced all that she said and more.

Here are some things we saw:

The Shriners on their little scooters. Rob really really wants one of these. We were a bit weirded out by the Islam symbols they have on their hats. Not sure exactly who the Shriners are anyways.

These watermelon were sweet! Somehow they are cool enough to make it into the parade on the back of a truck.

My photo of Congressman Dan Burton's truck isn't uploading properly, but we saw that too. And all all manner of political people and their interesting vehicles. I was beginning to think I was back in middle school where candy really DOES buy you votes. Everyone was throwing candy!

Unfortunately throughout the course of the weekend we missed the various gospel bands, the pancake breakfast at the Lions Club, the ice cream social, the cookout, and the Tuff Truck pull but I guess there is always next year!

"To the extent one of us is diminished, we are all diminished"

I can't claim the title of my blog as an original thought; it is actually the tagline of our local family services organization. I had the privilege of attending a fundraiser lunch for their organization this week and was reminded of their tagline again. 

It's been rolling around in my head this week, particularly because I've been reading 1 Corinthians 12 where Paul talks about how there is one body, but many parts. I always find Paul's writing on this topic so frank and easy to understand. We all know how the body works. We all know as he says, "If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be?" We all know the body could not function as perfectly as it does if it were just one part. 

Isn't that so true about the body of Christ too? I love how Paul goes on to talk about the spiritual gifts and how many different ones there are. Those are part of the body too. We could not all be teachers or miracle workers. We do not all have the gift of healing. But how good it is that some of our members do! 

I know that our family services organization is not a "Christian" organization. I do know that their executive director is and she is wonderful. So whether their tagline stems from a Christian worldview I don't know, but I do know that often in the secular world we run into things that do stem from the Word even if they aren't specifically meant to. I know that family services does so much good in our community for those who may otherwise fall through the cracks, get lost, and be abused. They are a vital part of the body. 

I am finding more and more that I must confront the pride that creeps into the body (and I'm speaking here of my own body, but also the larger body of Christ). This passage speaks so clearly to that thought: 

"But God combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it." 

Wow. 

There is so much room for pride to come in there. There is so much room for us as humans to pull ahead and clutch our successes to our chests and not take part in the honoring or the suffering of others. 

We know in a perfect world the above passage would work. This would run so smoothly and the body would perform like Michael Phelps'. Perfectly. We would feel the sting of rejection when a child is left fatherless. We would feel the suffering of a young mother who has nowhere to turn and nothing left to hold. We would rejoice when someone graduates from college or gets married or whatever. 

But we don't live in a perfect world and no one else does either. And that's where I get stuck. How do we join in the suffering of the entire body? That seems so daunting when we consider how much suffering goes on. How do we understand better the suffering that Jesus endured and become more like him? 

I know these are questions I will wrestle with for life. I know my own pride of somehow thinking I am better than others will be something I will wrestle with for life. I also know that I do have an opportunity to make sure those around me and those I come in contact with are not diminished. I know I couldn't live without my fingers, toes, eyes, ears............. 

Neighboring

Two specific instances have gotten me thinking about being a neighbor.

About a month ago we bought some new furniture and so returned the couch our landlords were letting us use to it's original owner -- another family across town. We took the couch back, and the wife of the family, Suzie, was so kind and friendly and asked us all kinds of questions about our wedding, life together, etc. She knows our landlords pretty well and started asking us about our neighbors and if we'd met them yet. We said we had, or at least a few right around us.

The amazing thing was Suzie went on to talk about most of them, particularly the family who lives right next to us, like she knew them. She asked about their children and if the mother was feeling better after being very sick. She kept telling us she was soo glad we lived out there and could "do ministry" to those people right where we were living.

I went away from that conversation feeling a bit guilty (I know Suzie did not intend this with her words) and thinking that we had not been very intentional with getting to know our neighbors and reach out to them. After a little while I brushed it off as being busy and getting married (no small feat!) and being gone on weekends and evenings so often.

But then there was the second instance that got me thinking even more. Last weekend our good friends Ashley and Noel stopped by to see us on their whirlwind fundraising tour. Noel is going into full time ministry so they were going around Indiana visiting people to talk about their ministry and they came to our home for lunch. They shared with us that the story of the Good Samaritan (or " Good Neighbor" as some people say) had been impacting them greatly as they talked and thought about the concept of neighboring. I liked how they used "neighboring" as a verb, not just a noun as in "to be a neighbor" which implies action, not just passivity as in "I am a neighbor."

It really got me thinking even more about our neighbors and how I wanted to reach out to them in some way. I knew the Lord was putting that more on my heart and I'd really been thinking about it and praying about it this week.

In my mind neighboring is being proactive and intentional. Putting ourselves out there and taking a risk with people sometimes to be a person of love and Jesus to them. I don't have many "deep" thoughts on this, but it's a learning process I suppose.

So then last night I felt like the Lord answered some prayers through a little black and white dog.

Our neighbors, the ones I mentioned before, adopted this little puppy that tends to roam the neighborhood. I'd noticed earlier that the mom (the one who was very sick) was outside with the puppy and her three year old son. We've met the rest of the family (dad and three kids) but never the mom. It is obvious by looking at her that she has gone through some sort of cancer, but that she is hopefully on the upswing. By this I mean she has a very tired, gaunt sort of look with very short cropped hair like it is just growing back in. She looks much older than a woman her age should.

Rob and I are still sorting through wedding photos so I suggested we take the computer outside and sit on the steps to enjoy the evening and look at our photos.

Well, as little puppies are apt to do, it quickly found us and soon behind it did the mom, Leanne, and Jacob, her little son. It's amazing how a small animal who has no idea you're even talking about it will open doors of conversation. We chatted with Leanne for about half an hour mostly about the dog (it chews), her kids (the two older ones like Jacob but not each other), our apple tree (they're real, not crab apples!) and with Jacob who seriously needs Leanne to interpret for him because she is the only one who understands him. He's absolutely precious though and has the funniest little laugh. It's very clear Leanne loves him and he is such a good little boy.

Eventually the dog came back and they drifted away to their yard, but it was obvious to us that Leanne was interested in conversation and we felt good about that. It was like a small foot was wedged in a door that needs just a small amount of pushing open.

As we went into the house I said to Rob how good it was to see the faithfulness of the Lord opening that door. My next step I think will be to make some bread (we have lots of zucchinis for zucchini bread!) and share with our neighbors. Seems like a small act, but I think neighboring starts small and that's good.

A domestic god and goddess

As part of our weekly share in our local CSA farm (more about that in another post but check out their website at www.victoryacres.org if you're interested in a local CSA farm) Rob and I received a head of cabbage.

Being the domestic goddess that I am, I obviously had no idea what to make with a head of cabbage. But determined not to waste such a pretty vegetable, I looked up cabbage in one of my cookbooks and found a recipe for shredded cabbage with old fashioned dressing. Right... whatever that means.

But Rob and I persevered and after staining my hands purple shredding the cabbage and Rob getting a good laugh that his dressing was turning into an omelette at the bottom of the saucepan, we produced a semblance of a coleslaw salad that was actually pretty good. It grew on us as we ate it with the rest of our dinner.

Simple Flowers and Joys

Last summer our landlords, James and Susan Allen, spent many hours in the flowerbeds surrounding our little home. What a treat to see so many friendly black eyed susans' coming up this summer! 

I also tried my hand at planting some seeds and was pleasantly surprised when my morning glories came up, twining themselves around the little arbor we have out front. Every morning I step out my front door to see how they are blooming. By the time we come home from work they are shriveled and hiding back inside themselves away from the heat of the day. They truly bear their name well.

It's funny how much joy I've gotten from my little flowers and plants this summer. Bright orange lilies, big pink cone flowers, and of course the aforementioned flowers. We even had a bright pink and purple honeysuckle plant! I didn't even know honeysuckles came in those colors. They all brightened my day and wished me well in the morning when I left my house and when I came home again in the afternoon. 

It's the simple joys in life I'm enjoying these days. And those joys are very good. 

A Spanish Chicago Weekend

This past weekend Rob and I left home yet again to go to Chicago. Rob had been looking forward to this trip for a while, even before we were married because two of his Spanish friends, Kike and Jose Pepe, he met during his study abroad in Spain were visiting the US and specifically wanted to meet up with Rob. 

Rob and Kike

Jose Pepe, Rob, and Kike playing with "willies" in a Chicago gift shop

So after some miscommunication about where to meet up Rob finally got to see them and talk in Spanish to his hearts' content. His friends were pretty excited to be in the US for the first time, marveling at the huge cars Americans drive, the food at Rainforest Cafe they claimed was too spicy, and everything and anything having to do with the White Sox. They thought America was pretty cool. Rob tried to tell them that we lived in a very different place than Chicago; a place with lots of cornfields and spread out land, but we don't think they quite got the picture. Rob promised the next time they came to visit they could come and stay with us provided we're still living in Indiana. 

Unfortunately, I didn't get to meet Kike and Jose Pepe which probably was a good thing considering I don't speak any Spanish. I guess we'll just have to go visit them in Sevilla sometime. :) 

Overall a good weekend visiting with those guys and staying with Ash and Noel. I had my first Argo Tea experience too which was definitely a highlight minus the neighborhood frat party that was going on. It's always good to be with friends, but it's even better to come home again.