monster quiche piece

This simple Zucchini Quiche is the best I've had in eons. As I savored each delectable bite, I thought to myself, "if this kind of quiche was served in a local restaurant, it is definitely something I'd make sure to come back for --again and again!" I used my biggest pie dish and was glad I did because it baked up montrously (it did take a bit longer than the recipe indicated) but the inside was magnifique! It was well worth the extra time it took! This recipe calls for 8 eggs, two smallish zucchini, swiss cheese, montery jack cheese, green onion, fresh garlic, milk, salt and (for us) lots of pepper. My husband contemplated a few drops of tobasco sauce on his piece. "Real" bacon was sprinkled on top (not pictured). The bacon was baked at the same temperature as the quiche on a broiling pan at the same time the quiche was baking. The less mess and fuss, the better, and it's a good economy dish too! YUM!! It's amazing how something as simple as this quiche can make my heart sing!

pieces

Pictured Above: --say hello to "Sunny Disposition" --"Psezz; No. 1"

("psezz" is pronounced "pieces")

Written Below: --song performed by Michael and Stormie Omartian over a decade ago. It's message has been playing over and over again in my mind for over a month or so.

pieces, pieces

so many pieces to my life

scattered all around

and some of them are gone

and i know that i can't ever

put them back together again

pieces, pieces

so many pieces to my life

a puzzle left unfinished

jumbled and unwhole

who can really ever

put them all together again

in a vision like a daydream

through your mind

i saw Jesus coming closer

holding all my hopes combined

He spoke with great compassion

as He put one hand on me

and in the other hand He held

what i could never see

He said pieces, pieces

I have all the pieces to your life

a thousand tiny fragments

of every single day

I can put them all together

and ther're never be another one who can

He said pieces, pieces

I have all the pieces to your life

in My hand I hold the pieces

of every single day

I can put them all together

so they'll never fall away

I can put them all together

and there'll never be another one who can

The Key Ingredient

"The key ingredient in being in contact with reality is attention to what feels most true at the present moment."--Soul Without Shame is a book that deals with your "inner crtique". This seemingly simple statement bears quite a bit of weight in the author's premise. So far, this book has been very helpful to me and I find myself amazed that someone else has shared the same type of struggles that I do. I've experienced some hefty "epiphany moments" with this author. But the thought that rings so loud and clear above all the rest of even this author's suggestions are --using two of the author's words: "most true". To me, that can only be one thing, His presence, the presence of God. Add to that a few words of encouragement from my mother years and years ago..."Practice in His Presence!"---now that's what I call reality's key ingredient.

Cards, For Me?!!

What are the chances that one would receive (on the same day) two cards from two dear friends for two totoally unrelated reasons? (And it's not even my birthday!) WOW. That just really makes my heart sing! Thanks.

Thanks Neighbor!

Coming home from a long day at work, I was surprised to find this little bundle at my doorstep. Homegrown Tomatoes! YUM! I looked around to try and spy the bearer of these delightful taste treats, but there were no guilty parties to be found. Should I walk next door and "thank" my neighbors? ( I think I might know who left them.) But what if they didn't leave them? What a quandry, I wasn't sure what to do. But in the meantime, I rustled up this tasty sandwich, partnered with turkey bacon and lettuce--and a few celerly sticks on the side. There's is nothing like the taste of fresh garden tomatoes, is there? But I still haven't found out who to properly "thank"! But in the meantime, "Thanks God for sending those thoughtful neighbors my way!"

MY "M.U.T."

Did you ever try to capture the essense of your beloved companion in one snapshot? Hard to do isn't it? Let's be realistic, no one looks at your pet the way you do and no one sees their captivating personality the way you only do. BUT, here is my attempt to do just that. Let me introduce you to MY M.U.T. --that stands for Mollie Tulip Underwood. In this snapshot I was asking her where one of my now-married children were. She immediately perked up and cocked her head to the side and flashed me her beautiful smile. Isn't she gorgeous? Mollie Tulip is the puppy of a rescued boxer (obviously Mollie's father was not a boxer) named Daisy--who has been evaluated to be "companion quality"--you know the kind of dog that could help the blind. I've never had Mollie evaluated but I bet she would be an awesome companion dog too. My words seems feeble trying to describe who she really is. She is sooo smart. We can let her outside and she knows the boundaries of our yard and rarely goes beyond. She catches her favorite ball with her front two paws (honest!) and fetches and fetches and fetches. On command she sits, stays, crawls, plays dead, talks, speaks and gives kisses to whomever you tell her, and knows her "family" by name. I'm so thankful for Mollie, Thanks God! Mollie makes my heart sing just knowing she will be there to greet me when I get home each day!

Mailbox Memorial --Thanks Dad!

Backing out of the driveway this morning I stopped just long enough to take a longer than usual look at my mailbox . . . "yep I thought . . . it's about time to update that!" But then I remembered that it was this mail box that my father (who passed over ten years ago) had fashioned himself and put into place . . .so this is my attempt to memorialize a bit of his handiwork. I came home on my lunch hour and grabbed a few pics. When I showed them to my brother, he mentioned how he had painted the mailbox at one time, trying to preserve it's existance. He also pointed out how the circular discs below the mailbox were signage scrap from Swallens, where Dad used to work. I always wondered where my dad got the idea to use the metal stand that the mailbox sits on . . . I always liked the way it looked . . . don't they call that "repurposing" now? Dad was always a unique kind of guy anyway. Fond memories poured throughout my mind as we talked. Anyway, my lovely "first" daughter, whom I sure wants to remain nameless, (the expert blogger-- www.azphalt.blogspot.com) keeps reminding me to keep blogging "short" . . . so that's my cue to end here and just say--HERE'S THE MAILBOX!