Looking for that dessert treat with a cool name? Here’s the thing you need, “Banana Sushi.”
Take a tortilla, coat with some chocolate spread or peanut butter, roll around a banana, cut into sushi looking slices, and sprinkle with sunflower seeds. Bam! Fanciness! Simple! Win!
Last night, my Fourth Grade son Sam was practicing his speech for the upcoming Student Council elections.
After a little bit of practice, young Sam was clear, concise, honest, and friendly. He was able to effectively convey his thoughts in brief statements that summarized his positions without going into lengthy details or false promises. Oh well, so much for national politics as a career path.
I love having a tasty yogurt at work. I crack open a yogurt, lean back in my chair, and enjoy.
I also love licking the yogurt lid. Savoring that extra teaspoon of dairy goodness makes my day. Plus, I’m sure that co-workers walking by my cubicle are impressed or perhaps repulsed.
Today, I was enjoying a yogurt with a thin metallic. You know the ones. They are not made of aluminum foil, they are not as heavy duty as a tin can, sort of living in the land in between, keeping my yogurt safe and sound.
So I was enjoying my yogurt, the type with a metallic lid, and then I noticed I had yet to lick the lid. Well, I knew what to do next. I lapped up every single dollop. Finishing up, I noticed a curious red streak on the lid. Strange.
Slowly, the realization came to me. I had given myself a “paper cut,” although in this case a “metallic yogurt lid cut.” A deep, painful, and bleeding from the base of the tongue “metallic yogurt lid cut.”
Sad thing was that there my yogurt sat. Waiting for me, but I was the one who would have to wait. Unable to place a bandage on my tongue and unwilling to spoil my yogurt with the taste of blood, I would need to wait.
Yogurt lids. Unexpected source of unspeakable pain. Something so good turned oh so bad.
Tonight was school conferences for our son Ben. Listening to his Second Grade teacher, she had all positive comments with the exception of one mixed review.
“Ben can at times act silly.” Sure, silliness has its time and place. Unfortunately, not every time and in every place. My son is learning the boundaries of silliness. This shall be his life’s struggle. I speak from experience.
As I slunk under the table, I partially hide myself in shame. For of the two parents present, one was clearly to blame.
“…But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” – Galatians 5:22, 23.
Last night, our church hosted a scavenger hunt based on the Apostle Paul’s “Fruits of the Spirit.” As we drove around town, there were different challenges based upon each of the “Fruits of the Spirit” and you had to select a member of your family that best represented a specific “fruit.”
We arrived at one of the stops, opened our clue, and read that we needed to select a family member that best demonstrated “Patience.” Unexpectedly, my three boys and wife immediately looked at me. Really? Me? All I could think of were the many times that I felt I had lost my patience. The many times I had let my family down. The many times I was grumpy. The many times I had expected an immediate response.
The strange thing was that none of that mattered now. When considering “patience,” they thought of me. Long ago, my flaws had apparently been forgiven. They chose to focus on the times when I had actually gotten it right. I smiled.
Sometimes, we are too hard on ourselves. Sometimes, we don’t see our own light that shines within. Sometimes, we need someone else to remind us what we are doing right. We can provide the blessings of God through our actions. All of us can be the living embodiment of fruits of the spirit.
Our 9-year-old son Sam is a notoriously picky eater. Oh, he eats stuff, it’s just that he actually picks it apart. Prior to consumption, each meal is broken down into its individual components. It’s very annoying and kind of gross to watch, but we have grown to accept it as “Sam being Sam.” We live with it, because we love him.
This morning, I baked some pumpkin muffins, which are an Autumn breakfast staple in our home. Nothing unusual. Nothing deserving to be picked apart. In this case however, the picking reached a new level. He did not just remove the muffin top. That kind of behavior is understandable and socially acceptable. He did not break it down into its individual pieces, as would be expected from Sam. He actually took the time to remove the outer “shell” from the muffin stump. That’s right, he peeled off the bottom of the muffin.
Staring at him in wonder and disgust, Sam looked at me with a smile and said, “I’m a picky eater.” Coming up with a snide response, I immediately said, “You’re a…” My voice trailed off. I love my son. The “Conversation Kill Switch” had been used. Better to not say it, than say something rude. Set a good example, even if your culinary masterpiece is being dismantled before your very eyes.
Here at CookiesbyDave.com, we strive to provide you daily posts of only the highest quality. We often fail.
Any who, we do try. Not that hard, but we do try. The process usually goes as follows…
The problem is that if the topic happens at work, I sometimes don’t have an opportunity to tell the story to my co-workers. That’s the hole in our quality assurance.
Take for example today. At work, our coffee maker had a slew of difficulties that were completely unrelated to each other. Some coffee had burned in the pot. The maker needed a good vinegar cleaning.
The story had the makings for a classic CookiesbyDave.com post, unfortunately I did not have a chance to refine the story at work. Even more unfortunate, I tried to perfect the story at the dinner table. After a seemingly endless story (about 5 minutes), the crowd (my family) grew restless and full of mockery. I had to wrap up my tale quickly and without much perfection.
I suddenly announced “This is the moral of the story…” The problem was that there was no moral to the story. I had long ago lost the crowd and the situation was growing into an open revolt. That is why out of pure necessity, I provided perhaps the lamest “Moral of the Story” ever. “Resurrection smells like vinegar.” Yep, lame and confusing. Not good at all.
That my friends is why the step of quality assurance should never be skipped. Unless of course, you are writing a post about a lack of quality assurance. In that case, run with it.
Tonight, as I got ready to head over to a friend’s house, I considered my sock options. People usually take off their shoes upon entering this friend’s house, so I needed socks that would work for such an occasion.
After a long second, I had found the right choice. A lovely pair of blue and grey socks that matched my blue jeans, as well as my grey shirt. As a bonus, they were also wool for a chilly autumn night. Win, win, win.
Having put on my socks, I proceeded to put on my shoes and tie up the laces. That’s when my feet experienced the feeling of pure sadness. The wool socks had added just enough girth to my feet to make them uncomfortable in my shoes. My shoes were fighting back against winter. A sad battle that they will eventually lose, but thankfully tonight I would need to remove my shoes in the very near future.
Relief from tight shoes was on its way. Relief from winter, well that will need to wait another six months.
30 seconds – read question… “What two digit numbers that are multiples of 10 solve the equation a x b = 3,500?”
45 seconds – search for son, who wandered away, while you were reading the question…
15 seconds – coax him back to the table to look at the homework question…
20 seconds – reread the question…
20 seconds – ask him his thoughts…
15 seconds – receive a blank stare that seems to say, “That’s why I asked for your help with this problem.” Stupid dad, of course.
30 seconds – for the first time, consider for yourself how to address this problem…
5 seconds – suddenly receive a bolt of inspiration from your very distant 4th grade memory banks…
1 minute – work together to figure out what two numbers can be multiplied to equal 35 (5 x 7) and then make them multiples of 10 (50 x 70)…
2 seconds – exhale as we approach the finish line…
5 seconds – wait… where did he go?… wandered off again…
35 seconds – whine until he returns to the table…
10 seconds – watch with pride, as he writes the answer (50 x 70)…
5 seconds – consider mentioning for the 42nd time his poor penmanship, but reconsider, because this was a victory on the way toward homework completion… no stops on this bullet train streaking toward success…
3 seconds – flash a satisfied smile
Answer – 5 minutes.
It’s that sobering moment. That moment, when you are summarizing the progress that you have made on a project at work. Then you gleefully proceed to describe the next steps and that’s when you see it. The road block ahead. The point at which you know your project is going to hit a major snag. At best it will continue limping on to the finish, after gaining enough momentum to carry it to the end. At worst, it will implode upon itself and be left as a burning pile of rubble on the side of the road.
Deep breath. It’s going to be fine. Life has readied all of us for such moments. We can all look to the horizon and see what road blocks we will face. What events will most likely take place that will knock us down. The best we can do is plan for those days and enjoy life one day at a time. Keep on keeping on with a smile.
Oh yes, massive potholes will present themselves. Just carry a shovel in the trunk and get ready to fill them in as best you can. There’s still road ahead. Keep on driving.