Serving is Not My Love Language

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https://mocicc.org/agricultura/c9z3ucosw “Five more minutes, everyone.  Will that be good enough to wrap up your work?”

https://www.marineetstamp.com/1ja9e43n25 General agreement murmured across the classroom by way of a visual cue from approximately twenty percent of my graduate students. Looking up from their group work, they made eye contact with me and affirmatively nodded.

source I had been asked by a friend to teach “Family and Developmental Theories” because at the last minute the instructor had to resign.  And when she asked, it was the last-last minute.  Four days before the class began I was running from building to building across campus: checking out room keys from security, filling out a stack of paper for human resources, and furiously absorbing the previous instructor’s syllabus because there was no time to build my own.

see url So there we were, two weeks into the class and the stranger’s syllabus had scheduled a “Movie Night” wherein my students were to take all their previous knowledge and analyze the movie we watched in class…

enter All their previous knowledge?  Wait, what?  For some students this was their first graduate course.  Others had graduated in business or other bachelor’s degree areas having nothing to do with the social sciences.  Their brows were furrowed and they were searching through the introductory section of Chapter 1 trying to take any concept they had absorbed and apply it to an interaction they’d just witnessed.

go site When the final call came, chairs turned toward the class, the group re-settled, and a quiet came over the class.  Once again, I assured them that ‘I understood if they had no previous family or developmental theory education, and that we would take this slowly.’

watch “So, who would like to go first?”

Tramadol Online Order Cheap After three or four seconds passed, an older student in the front of the class raised her hand, “I guess we will…”

https://www.elevators.com/eofy6jap41z “Great,” I replied.  “What would you like to share?”

https://lpgventures.com/h6qy195oon “Well, we didn’t know any theory, but all four of our group members have learned about Gary Chapman’s Love Languages, so we analyzed the following scenes using them.  First, we noticed that the mother must have ‘Acts of Service’ as her primary Love Language based upon the scene where she was fixing the dishwasher, refereeing the children, talking with her husband on the phone, and cooking dinner…”

https://onlineconferenceformusictherapy.com/2025/02/22/p2qe38dvi1 The group identified each of the main characters, hypothesized which of the Love Languages might be their primary focus, and backed it up with the “why” analysis that graduate lecturer’s love.

click Love…did I just write that?  Yes, I did.  I LOVE that the students were trying to stretch their scholarly wings by spending time in thought as well as time in discussion with our class. Why?  Because Gifts of TIME is my love language…not Acts of Service.

follow All six groups presented in six different ways, but they all performed higher than the bar their facial expressions had set prior to the assignment time. Continue reading Serving is Not My Love Language

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My Little Victory Garden: Secrets to Making Crabapple Jam, Jelly, or Jamly

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https://guelph-real-estate.ca/x8aq77q1n When my neighbor and I see each other in the back yard, we almost always say “hi, there!”  Sometimes we yell a question or check in with how each other is doing.  And about twice a week, we start a conversation by walking toward our adjoining fence.  By the time we reach the fence, we’re halfway through with our discussion, and carry on by assuming our fence-leaning postures.  Lisa usually lays her arms over the top, and I usually lean my whole body against the fence and stand on one foot.  So, there we stand, three feet apart leaning on the fence and talking…about the topic of the day.

https://www.marineetstamp.com/pcra4tdrfjh Today’s topic was “the proper consistency of jelly products.”  Lisa contends that you get what you get, and you eat whatever your fruit decides to offer, “whether it’s jelly, jam, or…jammmlllyy.”  In other words, there is a spectrum of what you end up with depending upon the year, the fruit, how ripe or unripe it was, the water content, whether you juiced it in a high-filtered juicer or one that extracts as much pulp as possible, et cetera et cetera et cetera.

follow site The point being ~ there’s no real perfection in a recipe unless you’re a manufacturer with specifications, and then that takes the joy out of life.

https://paradiseperformingartscenter.com/37vfgtim source site So, how do you deal with crabapples?  After all, some years they’re tiny, other years they are fairly good-sized, sometimes they’re a little overripe, and sometimes…well, I could go on but I feel I’ve made my point.

https://penielenv.com/6kd1xw4u8g If you “Google” crabapple jelly recipes, you’ll find about thirty.  Most will tell you exact measurements.  Which brings me to secret number one: there are no exact measurements when making crabapple jelly.  This is why you need a recipe that explains how you work with the fruit instead of trying to force it into a place it just won’t go.  Therefore…

  1. https://www.yolascafe.com/mb3dzmeit Use this recipe. go here   Julie Van Rosendaal took the time to write out the how, why, where, etc. on the proper process of making crabapple jam.  There is no reason to keep reading recipes that say x amount of fruit, x amount of water, and x amount of sugar.  I agree with her explanations, her sugar ratio, and her explanation about when the jam/jelly/jamly is ready.  You’ll be glad you didn’t waste your time reading through 200 hundred mixed reviews of every recipe out there.  This one is the best and I stand by my recommendation…and I’m picky.
  2. Tramadol Legal To Buy Online Make sure the fruit is ripe before you pick it.  If you rush crabapples, you’ll recreate a mistake I’ve made twice…the fruit will have too much tannin when prepped and it will give your mouth an astringent treatment.  If you’ve eaten a green persimmon…same thing.  You’ll know the crabapples are ripe and ready to harvest when some of them are already falling off the tree.  If you can find one or two that are slightly wrinkled on the tree, this is also a good sign. If the fruit is by and large yellow and slightly wrinkly, you may have missed the window.  Taste the apples – they need to be tart, but not astringent in order to work best.  You’ll be glad you waited and so will everyone who eats your jam.20130810_202646
  3. https://onlineconferenceformusictherapy.com/2025/02/22/t3qw9fd9 The only juicer you can really use on crabapples is a fine-straining type.  If you want to save some hassle and use straight crabapple juice, I would caution you about this decision.  Only if you’ve strained the juice well will it work – seeds, stems and blossoms can also add astringency to juice.  My best recommendation is to give up your thoughts about using a juicer and just cook the apples like the recipe says.  However, if you INSIST on using a juicer, make sure and understand that there will be a lower pectin rate, you’ll need to strain the juice, and your color might be slightly less because you didn’t cook the whole apples long enough for the peels to stain the juice a nice deep pink color.
  4. http://www.mscnantes.org/dte4mhhdc Take time on the front end to prep your fruit well.  The best fruit is washed fruit, destemmed and deleafed fruit, and WORM-FREE fruit.  Please be careful and inspect your fruit.  If you miss things like I mentioned, they’ll show up in your beautiful jelly or between someone’s teeth.
  5. https://www.brigantesenglishwalks.com/zp9kk1db2fh In order to make sure it sets up, it really IS okay to use some SureGel or other type of pectin.  Although the recipe says that crabapples make their own pectin (and they do), I still use about 1/2 box per every 4 cups.  Otherwise, you might end up cooking the jamly down for 30, 40 or even more minutes in order to get it to the right setting up stage.  Either way, it will be lovely, but if you’re worrying about it setting up – give yourself a break and use SureGel!
  6. Tramadol Buying Uk Can you recook jelly that didn’t set up?  ABSOLUTELY.  I’ve done this four or five times. Just open all the jars, dump them back into your stock pot, rinse and dry your jars and lids, then recook.  Remember the test – – reduce it until it’s clear, pure, beautiful…and test it on a cold plate.  The timing should be: already cold plate, add one drop of hot jelly out of your pan, put in freezer for 60 seconds only, take out.  If it wrinkles when you push it with your fingernail, it’s ready!  If it doesn’t, keep cooking!!
  7. here Don’t have a crabapple tree?  Use the barter system!  I have never, ever seen a crabapple tree completely stripped of all the beautiful ripe fruit during picking season.  And, I’ve never owned a crabapple tree…I just look for trees in public spaces, or in my neighbor’s yards.  If you knock on a door and introduce yourself, pitch this idea:  “I’d love to pick a few gallons of your crabapples.  May I have permission if I bring you back a jar of jelly?”  All they can say is “no.”  And generally, they say, “heck yeah!”  We’ve utilized trees on golf courses, on university campuses, on street medians and in people’s yards.  Keep your eyes open, and let people know you’re looking.  There may be trees right around your corner!

Tramadol Buy Online Canada Okay – that’s it.  You can use ANY kind of strainer:  a jelly bag, a colander, a strainer like mine (see below), but just make sure you really break apart the apples when you’re cooking them and you wait until all your juice finishes dripping into your pan.

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https://www.brigantesenglishwalks.com/kpm8bou4 Crabapple jelly/jam/jamly is a beautiful thing.  So, take time to honor the beauty and you’ll be richly rewarded with jars upon jars of delicious, precious, jew-ly jamly every time you make it.

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On the Horizon: Give Them a Fighting Chance

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https://getdarker.com/editorial/articles/522ljwcf Whether I am recovering from a surgery or just that annoying lower back twinge we get from time to time, I am grateful for pain medication. It amazes me how scientists have figured out ways of stopping, or at least minimizing pain. But with all of the different cases for which I have taken prescription medicine I have never found myself “needing” more. The best side effect for me is the fact that it takes the pain away.

Online Tramadol Cod Overnight Every day we see more and more people hooked on prescription medicine. This epidemic is quickly becoming more serious than marijuana and cocaine. It is a sad and dangerous issue but one that doesn’t only hurt addicts and their loved ones. While reading an article about prescription drug abuse, I came across some frightening information. According to doctors in Oklahoma City, women are more likely to become addicted to prescription painkillers. With that increase comes the higher rate of unborn babies also becoming addicted. Our world can be a scary and dangerous place. Add that to the fact that an unborn baby is addicted to painkillers through no fault of their own – it is disheartening.

Whether you are pro-life or pro-choice is not an issue. If a baby is coming into the world, they should not have to start out a step behind because of unfortunate choices of their parent.

Andy Barth

On the Horizon: Prescription Drug Abuse from Alisa Hines on Vimeo.

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The Summer Wind

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A southern breeze was born

far before the central Oklahoma horizon.

Darting across the prairies, bumping over the lakes

it grew in strength and unpredictability.

By the time it reached my four-room home

the wildness forced a path through our porch screen door,

under my bedroom window sill covered in cracking pale blue paint,

and around the corners of white vinyl siding

imprinted with tiny ridges.

Whooo-OOO bellowed the gales.

 

My four year-old eyebrows lifted, while my legs chased

the noise through my home’s center

and out the back door.

Practically falling down the back steps,

my chase ended as I saw the noisy blusters

take shape by lifting and expanding sheets hung on the

steadfast clothesline wire.

As the fully masted linens released the

grass-scented air with pops! at their hems,

I chased that wind until my scrawny legs gave way to fatigue.

The wind was older, stronger and faster.

 

Collapsing into the prairie grass-covered pasture,

I closed my eyes and listened.

The wind hadn’t gone after all.

Its infinity caresses passed over the tufts of Love grasses,

rattling the small dried seed pods.

Its fingers played with the wisps of my summer-colored hair

on my forehead and cheeks.

The folds of my ears created a new

whistle for the breeze to play,

to slide across, finishing with a high G-sharp.

The noise vibrated the membrane in my ear.

“I am here,” the whistle told me.  “I’ll always be around.”

 

The wind became my friend that day

and when the occasional draft bursts across my face now,

I want to dance with it on the prairie,

accompanied by the percussive rattle of Love grass seed pods,

until I fall into the sweet pasture’s arms

because my legs have no more strength.

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My Little Victory Garden: Jam Therapy

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Three times my friend communicated that “the blackberries are ready,” and to “meet me at Wellston…we’ll drive down together to pick them.”

But the first time they weren’t really ready. Then the heat was too extreme. Then it rained. And then I think my friend might have gotten tired of trying, and we dropped that plan.

I had already let the thought of those precious blackberries fade from my mind when I drove by my favorite sand plum thicket and spotted the color of ripeness.  I picked a few, took them home to show Mick, and within a few hours we were headed back to strip the thicket and head to the kitchen.

In spite of the lingering effects of chigger bites I suffered the next week, making that jam was a beautiful thing.  You see, I’ve been writing and coding and building tables for my dissertation.  And jam therapy seems to be the best thing to clear my head this summer.

I’ve cleared my head six more times since then…

Mick’s friend called and reported that his “daughter’s pasture had wild blackberries, and would we like to come pick some?” Our answer was, “Yes!”

Our arms were scratched, I picked up a piece of wire in the pasture that made a horrible screeching noise against my brakes, and it was so hot our clothes were soaked when we finished.  But we got about 6 or 7 pounds of blackberries and my second “jam session” was once again a beautiful thing.

Then I called my friend Cathy because she had planned on going for the original blackberry run that never happened and I wanted to chat with her while picking fruit.  I knew my contact down in Blanchard had grapes and that it was time for them to be turning.  So after she answered, I said, “Hey, wanna go pick grapes with me?”  And she responded, “Yee-haw” or “Yippee-Skippy” or something like that.

So the two of us packed our containers, do-rags, rubber boots, bug spray and more equipment than we probably needed and headed to the vineyard.  We picked Mars, Vanessa, Jupiter, and one other variety.  And then, we took her 14# bag and my 10# bag up to the shed to pay for them.  The farmer weighed Cathy’s bag and said, “Okay, that’s 14 times 6…uh, that’s…”

I looked at Cathy’s face.  Her eyes were blinking as she tried to register the fact that he actually WAS charging us $6 per pound for the grapes.  She was stuttering, so I decided to help.  “That’s $84, I’m pretty sure.”

In my head I was screaming, “EIGHT-FOUR DOLLARS???  WHAT-DO-YOU-THINK YOU’RE DOING?  THIS IS HIGHWAY ROBBERY!!”

After we paid for the grapes, I took my $60 bag and Cathy took her $84 dollar bag and we walked to the car.  Then we opened the doors and gently laid the grapes in the back seat.  Then we closed the doors and checked through the windows to make sure the grapes were okay.  Then we got in the front seat.  Then we closed the front doors, buckled our seatbelts, and exploded with, “What the??…”  “I KNOW, right?”

Then we took our solid gold, no – PLATINUM grapes home and went our separate ways.

Later I got a text from Cathy.  “Drinking fresh Jupiter grape juice – Oh. My. Larry….this stuff is good.”

Then I juiced all mine, cooked them down with a rosemary bouquet and turned it into Rosemary Grape jam.  Another therapy session.  And, it’s probably my favorite of all I’ve made this summer. Cripes, maybe they were worth the six bucks a pound…who knows? After all, I charge $125 per session when I provide psychtherapy…maybe $6 was actually a bargain, eh?

Then Mick and I drove to Stratford and got peaches, and I made jam.  TWO therapy sessions today:  jalapeño and cherry bomb pepper peach jam, and spiced peach jam with bourbon and crystalized ginger.  Each time I scrape the very last bits from my large stock pot I close my eyes and think, “Okay – I can do another table.  I can write another few pages….I can do this.”

I was in WalMart one day and saw $3 bags of apricots.  I bought five of them and made apricot jam.  And felt better when they were done.

I invited two friends over who wanted to learn how to can.  I had jam therapy vicariously through Rose’s first pickles and Katie’s first peach jam.  When the day was over, we were all a little worn out but I was calm and peaceful as a cucumber.

My daughter and my husband have dispatched the location of two loaded crabapple trees that I’ll probably harvest this weekend or next.  I haven’t even built my last two statistical tables or my final model but I KNOW I’ll need crabapple jam therapy to get me through.

Blackberries, peaches, grapes, apricots…all procured by hand in one way or another.  All cleaned, prepared, cooked and put up into half pints or pints, each pinging with a beautiful seal when it’s over.

I can’t wait to climb the crabapple trees.  I can’t wait to smell that beautiful tart-apple-ly aroma, or see the lovely pink sunset color when the jam is packed into the sparkling jars.  I can’t wait to feel relaxed and worn out after I complete my (most likely) 60th half-pint of jam this summer.

Why?  Because I know that between each therapy session in my kitchen, is a pile of pages stacking…and stacking…and stacking up in my master dissertation document.  I think on my defense day, I’ll take my committee jam.

After all, that’s only appropriate, right?

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