Oatmeal: Yes it is Good!

Lately I have been hooked on breakfast sandwiches made with egg, cheddar cheese and tomato on an english muffin, they are delicious but I have been looking for something else to add to my breakfast repetuare. I found what I was looking for in old school Quaker Oats. Now, as most of you may agree, oatmeal by itself is gross and reminds me of Oliver Twist and the phrase "Please Sir . . . I'd like some more" comes to mind right after I gag on bland mush. 

Linz and I have discovered that if you want to enjoy oatmeal you got to dress it up a little. Here are some of our recent creations. 

But first some standard operations:

Never Cook in Microwave--always on the stove top!

Put the oats in with the cold milk before you start heating. Doing this gives good texture with out the oatmeal getting to goopy. Also at this point it is standard procedure for me to add a few drops of vanilla extract. I feel this rounds out the flavor and their is also the added benefit of the pleasant aroma when cooking.

Banana Oats

After oats are done cooking add sliced bananas, slivered almonds, cranberries, and brown sugar. 

Apple Oats

Throw in diced apple with cold milk and oats

While heating add nutmeg and cranberries 

When done stir in brown sugar (not to much or you will drown out the apple) and garnish with a dash cinnamon. 

Give it a try and tell me what you think.

Light

Is it just me, or does everything taste better this time of year. Coffee tastes better, wine tastes better, cookies taste better, kisses from my wife (these always feel magical, but none the less they feel extra good), all of it. My theory is that Christmas is magical. Duh--we all know this right, and if you don't think it is magical anymore . . . well, then perhaps you're heart has shrunk. I believe that Christmas owes a lot of it's magical feel to lights. Lights are a big deal, for they stir within the human nervous system a hypersensitivity to everything our little synapses can handle. It is so fitting that light should lead the charge in holiday spirit. Fitting because Christ was light to the world. Light in literature is always symbolic with hope, rejuvenation and life. This is true outside the realm of literature, not just in film and art, but in real life too. Light brings clarity, perspective, and most important, life (ask anyone who suffers from seasonal depression). Christ is light and Christ is life. 

My dad, when talking of his life before he was a Christian, says that Christmas always housed, for him, an inordinate amount of hope. Hope for what I am not sure, perhaps just hope for hopes sake, but none the less there is this intrinsic quality about Christmas--even with all the commercialization. It is a season that is shot through with a magical air of light, life, and hope. 

I should also mention that yesterday I saw, right around mile 13 of my 18 mile rain run, a vary large Bald Eagle perched high up in a tree over the river trail. It was massive, and majestic--it was a Christmas miracle. 

Anne of Avonlea

Ever since I have become a dad weird things have moved me at odd times. Particularly scenes in film. I have always been a sap when it comes to cinema, a sap because I have the unique ability to buy into most films 100 percent. My father also shares this quality but to a much greater degree then even I. The film becomes all to real and for us the mark of a good film is one that we literally live for at least three days after viewing. Not that we go around pretending to be some character (though I may have done this after seeing my first Jim Cary movie) but the film and its images are burned so deeply in our minds eye that they flash and replay over and over again. I don't know about my father, but I often dream the film. Dramas usually have the greatest impact. Thrust upon me is a whole gamut of human emotion. When I was younger it was almost unbearable.

Forest Gump, for example, was one of these films. I saw it in the theater when I was ten and from the war scene on bawled my eyes out. When lieutenant Dan was cursing God during the storm I walked out. I had never heard anyone talk to God that way and to my naive eyes and ears this was utter blasphemy. I returned to the theater and finished the film. When the feather floats out of the book at the end I lost it. I sobbed and sobbed, heaved for air, and sobbed some more. I sobbed violently for an hour.  

Bridge To Terabithia is another film. Both Linz and I found ourselves on a plane from California to Connecticut blubbering like babies to the best in-flight movie of all time. 

And now, to Anne of Avonlea. I did not sob like I had in the past, but I was moved at an unlikely scene. Catching only the last 30 minutes, I saw the part when Anne befriends Katharine, a firm Liberian type woman with a very large stick shoved way up her tukis, an unpleasant character. When Anne invites her to her house for the holidays Katherine, realizing she is loved by someone, is freed from her staunch self. Anne had the power to see potential and did not let anyone get away with wasting life. I shed a single tear but was holding back a river. Weird. 

Weekend at Lake Almanor

Linz and I went down to Lake Almanor for Thanksgiving as the in-laws rented a house there for the weekend. It was great to be in the mountains on a holiday. Cold weather and a wood stove amp up the holiday spirit like few other things. I miss the cold and the smell of damp leaves on the ground--two things present in the mountains  but rarely found in Redding. Thanksgiving food has never really been my favorite food. I loath cranberry sauce and turkey is . . . well no matter how you dress it is kind of bland. My wife also makes this green bean casserole and I wish I could say how much I love it, but that would be a lie, a lie because I think it is, to put it politely, not so good. All her family loves it and it is a staple of the feast. I wish I did like it, honest!

Food aside, I like the way Linz family does Thanksgiving, everyone brings something to the meal and the feast is a group effort. Next year I will bring something to the meal and then the feast will be great for me too. 

To end on a good note, Mom Endeman makes these Alabama biscuits that are to die for. I had like six or seven smothered in butter and jam. 

Enjoy these pics from a great weekend

Oh yeah, Carter got Carsick on HW 36 and spewed bananas and carrots all over his little self. Apparently my driving blows chunks. 

Sweet 16 and I am Committed . . . we will see

I have been toying with the idea of doing the Redding Marathon. It is by no means a big marathon participant wise (only 107 people ran it last year), but the course looks great and the running community here is a fantastic bunch of people. The Sweat Running Club puts on great races and I would expect nothing less of the marathon. 

I tested the waters yesterday and ran 16 miles. I could not have made it if my good friend Ben didn't join me on the last 8 as he was a huge lift and a magnanimous encourager. I completed with fairly decent splits and only a 4 minute differential between my two sets of 8. My pace averaged  7:50 a mile. I would like to see that drop to a 7:30 which would put my finishing time for the marathon around 3 hours and 15 minutes.  I believe this to be an achievable goal but I would really be happy with anything under 3 hours and 30 minutes. I have not handed in my paper work for the race thus making me uncommitted at the moment . . . but we shall see. In all, great run. Being disciplined and testing the limits of my body has garnered minor, but significant transformations in my daily life. Having a baby makes you do crazy things. If Carter was not here I doubt I would be making such efforts. Speaking of Cater . . . 

Carter tells us about his day and explains to Linz and I why he has trouble sleeping though the night. In this photo Carter is in mid-lecture, "I gonna cry till you feed me. I got the stamina to do it and I think I proved that last night when I screamed for 60 minutes strait. You caved in the end as I suspected you would. You are weak and my lungs and desire for milk are strong. Frankly I don't care what What to Expect the First Year says I know what I want and I smart enough to get it. You see mom and dad, It is all in my master plan . . . And don't get so down, strength and perseverance are good qualities, you should be happy I got em."

Carter, the Christmas Baby, looks retrospectively at his sleep performance as of late before making the journey to the Kooy's house for some delicious ribs.
One more picture for you grandma GiGi!

French Press

Linz got me a French Press for my birthday a while back. Best gift ever! It creates the most amazing, silky, velvety, sensational coffee on the face of the planet and maybe even the entire universe. Angels visit me regularly and ask me for a cup. It pairs nicely with all the dark roasts from Sue's. So don't delay, go on and throw out those old, clunky, counter hogging machines and embrace this old style brewing as your way of the future. 

It is tremendous 

Could these pictures be any cooler? . . . I submit that they could not!

A comment about the weekend that ends in a huge comment/question about Salvation

Great Weekend. Though it is odd and somewhat disappointing that 80 degree weather strike the north-state mid November, I would be kidding myself if I said I haven't enjoyed this present Indian summer. I got several great runs in over the weekend in which my splits were low, solid and consistent. In these runs I was not intentionally trying to burn up asphalt, I think my cruising pace has just quickened and that is exciting for me. Everybody should run because it is seemingly absurd, and life is seemingly filled with absurdity. But the more you run, the less absurd it becomes--kind of like life. Running is a healer, an educator, and life clarifier. I think Jesus would have been a runner if he wasn't the savior.

But alas, to more important things--Linz is on this understanding Mormonism kick. We watched a PBS documentary and now she is reading Under the Banner of Heaven by John Krakauer, a book that is more about fundamentalism and religious extremism than Mormonism. But in all, we have had some interesting discussions. Let me preface this observation/comment/question by drawing your attention to a few facts. As of 2005, according to the World Christian Database, Christianity is the fifth fastest growing religion behind Islam, Bahai Faith, Sikhism and Hinduism. However, Krakauer claims in his book (copy-write 2003) "At present in the United States there are more Mormons that Presbyterians or Episcopalians. On the planet as a whole, there are now more Mormons that Jews. Mormonism is considered in some sober academic circles to be well on its way to becoming a major world religion--the first of such faith to emerge since Islam." All this to say that these religions of the world are overwhelmingly attractive to those seeking a devout spiritual life style. But Why?

Salvation in Christianity, as defined by Wikipedia, is a "gift that comes to an individual by God's grace, sometimes defined as "unmerited favor", on the basis of one's personal belief in and dependence on the substitutionary death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Salvation in this sense refers to God's activities in bringing humans into right relationship with God and with one another through faith in Jesus Christ." So their is nothing that we humans do but accept the gift. We do nothing, God gets the credit and we get eternal salvation in return. Pretty good deal right? One could say that salvation in other religions of the world is not dependent on God's grace, but rather is dependent on mans ability to do good works. Adherents to Islam follow a strict code of ritual and conduct to attain salvation. Mormons, though they say that their salvation is found in Christ further research reveals that eternal salvation is not granted on an individual level, but is dependent on the salvation of one's entire family. Salvation through works is a staple in every other religion. 

My question to you all is this: What is so appealing about shouldering the responsibility of one's own salvation. The fact that war and injustice riddle the world is a testament to mans imperfection. How could we think for a second that we have within us the ability to get it right by ourselves? Why is the free gift so hard to unwrap?