Food, Folks, & Fun

Remember that old slogan from McDonald's years ago?

Well, it wasn't exactly McDonald's, but it was snack food, some great friends, and a lot of fun! This past Sunday some friends from church came for a visit with their 3 boys. I wish I had pictures, but we were much too busy talking about everything from camping to clothespin bags. The dads even managed to get roped into acting out our oldest son's robot story! (which was hilarious, by the way!)

We introduced our friends to a long-time family tradition, watermelon and rull kuka, so I thought I would bring back an old post from last year, complete with new pictures taken this year. (and they liked it...unlike my brother-in-law who is just sure it tastes like playdough!) >*************************************************

As a child, every August meant there would be one meal consisting only of watermelon and rull kuka. Yummy!

I imagine all of you know what watermelon is, but most of you are probably scratching your heads at the rull kuka? Well, my German mother, of Mennonite background, managed to fill my stomach with many dishes that no one else I knew ate. In fact, I was sitting down to a school lunch of pancakes when I realized that these fat, round things on my plate were what everyone else considered pancakes, while I knew only thin, rolled-up-crepe-like delicacies. I'm still not real fond of those thick things the rest of you eat.

So, back to the rull kuka. Many people put salt on their watermelon, for some unknown reason. My family eats these salty, fried rectangles of bread instead. In case you feel daring and have some watermelon nearby, here is the recipe...

6 eggs
1/4 c. melted butter
2/3 c. milk
5 c. flour
2 tsp salt

Beat eggs, butter and milk in a bowl. Add in flour and salt and mix well. Roll out onto a floured board. Cut into 3"x6" rectangles and cut a small slit lengthwise down the center of each.

Fry in 1" of fat until light brown.


Serve with watermelon.

A Hard Holiday

Memorial Day isn't a day at the lake. It isn't hot dogs and hamburgers. It isn't an extra day off.

At least not for me.

Originally, Memorial Day was a day that was set aside to decorate the graves of fallen war heroes. I grew up going to memorial services at cemeteries because my dad was a World War II vet (and my husband is an Operation Nobel Eagle and Enduring Freedom vet). There are many who believe this day should remain just for our war heroes, but it has naturally evolved into a day to decorate all graves and remember all who have died. While I do find it difficult to "celebrate" this holiday in the manner many do (the cookouts and jaunts to the lake), I don't think it will ever go back to being just for the fallen war heroes. And so, I "celebrate" by tending Emily's grave and the graves of others in my family (including my father) who have "gone on before."

Losing a child has made this a hard holiday.

Couple that with Micah being the age Emily was when she first got sick and you can imagine the struggle it was to make it through this weekend.

In fact, I watch Micah very closely these days. Any strange look in his eyes, any time he spits up, any breathing pattern I don't like, anything. I have shaken him from a sound sleep more often than I care to admit. I have worried the lack of a poopy diaper one day was the beginning of intestinal troubles. I wouldn't say I am fearful...just watchful. I'm having a difficult time believing babies grow up even though I have 4 of them to prove they do. Just another day inside my brain.

Despite the difficulty of this weekend, there were also some blessed moments. I spent all day Friday with my mother-in-law and granny-in-law shopping thrift stores (one of my favorite pasttimes!) On Saturday, my mom came to pick me up to visit all her cemeteries. During this time I learned much about my family and am currently working on putting together all the geneology into a notebook so I won't have to rely on my horrible memory. Sunday I sang at my mom's church (my mother-in-law and granny-in-law surprised us by showing up to hear me sing). And finally, on Monday, I went to my father-in-law's for a nice visit with him and Ty's step-mom.

In case you are wondering why I'm saying "I" instead of "we", it is because my husband and oldest son spent the weekend in South Dakota on a Scouting campout. That could be another reason this was a hard weekend. They'd been gone since Wednesday and I was certainly ready for them to come home by the time Monday rolled around. I was thankful for all the visiting time I had with family, though. It made the time pass much more quickly.

MOMYS Retreat

Many of you know I am part of an online forum called MOMYS (Mothers of Many Young Siblings). I joined the MOMYS digest when I had but 2 children and couldn't even post questions because of my "Read-Only" status. When I was pregnant with my 4th child, I joined the forum side of the house and gained some wonderful friendships and advice there over the years.

Three years ago one of the MOMYS put together a retreat that was in my neck of the woods (if you count 5 hours away my neck of the woods!) and we packed up the family and headed over to meet many wonderful women I had only "met" online. (Isn't the 21st century amazing?!)

That first year it was blistering hot and I was immensely pregnant (with Emily). The rooms were not air conditioned and our windows would not open. The mattresses were little better than boards and I seriously entertained the idea of sleeping on the concrete sidewalk outside. To boot, the cafeteria was at the top of the hill, and to a pregnant woman, it might have well been Mt. Everest. Yet despite my discomfort, I walked away from that retreat refreshed. Because I had met these people IRL (in real life) I felt I knew them much better, and friendships were forged that will never be forgotten.

The second year, the retreat moved to a closer (and nicely air conditioned!) location. Many families who had been there the previous year, returned. There were many new faces as well. I came hesitantly because Emily's death was still so fresh in our hearts. In fact, I had already filled out our reservations prior to her death and could not bring myself to remove her name. When I arrived, the ladies had bought me a silver pin with a bow and arrow in honor of Emily. There were many tears shed and hugs shared that weekend.

This year it was like coming home. The MOMYS are an incredible group of ladies. No two are alike and yet we can all come together in Christian unity and worship and fellowship in love. We enjoy our time there so very much.

I do want to share a good laugh we had at the expense of an unsuspecting misspeller...

From the shelf in our room:


I honestly don't know what HEAVEY LOUDS are, but I was very careful to speak softly when standing near this shelf. ;o)