Shavua Tov!

From this day on, from this twenty-fourth day of the ninth month, give careful thought to the day when the foundation of the Lord’s temple was laid. Give careful thought:  Is there yet any seed left in the barn? Until now, the vine and the fig tree, the pomegranate and the olive tree have not borne fruit.

“‘From this day on I will bless you.’” Haggai 2:18-19 NIV

Rest in Me

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‘Come to me if you’re tired, weary, burned out and I will give you rest. You’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.’ Matthew 11 28-29 Message Translation.

Christians often talk about the Lord telling them to pray and rest in Him. What does this mean? Does it mean we must take to our beds and sofas and kick back for the rest of our lives, giving up jobs and lives and staying at home?

As appealing as this may sound, on the contrary, if we are praying in all circumstances, we have the confident hope that the Lord is actually telling us, ‘Pray and I will do the rest.’

This sounds so simple. He is certainly stronger than we are, has our best interests at heart, can see the future before it happens and has designed each of us for a specific purpose (this is why comparison is futile and steals our happiness.) The Lord’s grace is enough for us; His power is made perfect in our weakness.

We are not to try to understand, underestimate or know how He does things. The grace of the Lord is stronger than all our faults and failures. His love for each of us is deeper and greater than our hearts could ever fathom. We must humble ourselves, therefore, before the Almighty God, for truly He alone is the One who gives and takes away.

Do not be afraid to go boldly forth into the new day. Just as none of us would go into the laundry basket and take out yesterday’s clothes to wear, so it is with the mercies of Christ which begin fresh each day. We must not take the garbage of yesterday into the freshness of today. Why be afraid when we are given a spirit of love, courage and a strong mind?

As St. Paul writes in 2 Timothy, when the going gets tough, take it on the chin, just as Jesus did, running the race of faith, love and peace. Let’s not be argumentative but be gentle, listeners, keeping cool and keeping on, keeping on.

Asking the Lord to help us and sort out our stresses and messes starts a positive cycle of strength and reassurance, relief from pressure and real progress. This is most certainly difficult to start with but will become easier as we rest in Him, spending more time in prayer and thankfulness for all He has done and is doing for us. As our “Attitude of Gratitude” develops, we will see how our days become less stressful and more productive. The rest will come and our bodies will become physically and mentally recharged and stronger.

“You pray, I’ll do the rest,’ says the Lord. The rest of our hearts, souls, minds and lives is found as we pray, trust, believe and obey that He is with us always. The rest will come in the Lord’s time but, in the meantime, He will equip us through the Holy Spirit to cope with life and its grenades. We can confidently go in to today to work and enjoy the freedom He has given us through the price paid through His death and resurrection.

Lord, in your mercy, help us pray and let you do the rest. Help us to remember that you are a God who loves us and has our best interests at heart. Help us Lord, graciously help us go into today with happiness and gratitude for all you have done and are doing for us and through us for the good of each other. Help us develop attitudes of sincere gratitude. Enable us, Lord, to set aside stillness in each day to listen to you. In this stillness may your Holy Spirit help us remember times when you have answered our prayers and enabled us to to more than we could physically or mentally have achieved in our own strength. May we openly talk with others about these times to encourage, refresh and build one another up. Bless us, good Lord. Thank you Lord for we can’t do this without you.  Amen.

Word from Baghdad: Take Risks!

Below is a copy and paste from a recent  Facebook update from my friend Canon Andrew White a.k.a. The Vicar of Baghdad, encouraging us all to take risks.

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Take Risks

So often I have said to people don’t “take care, take Risks”. When I recently received the William Wilberforce award over all the posters and the programmes were the words “Take Risks”. People often think those words came from me they did not they came from my great mentor in life the former Archbishop of Canterbury Lord Donald Coggan. It was he who married Caroline and I and even baptised Josiah.

I will never forget when he first said it to me we were walking in Mayfair in London. We had just been to a reception of the Council of Christians and Jews. Walking down the road he took my arm and held it very tight and said to me. “You are a young Curate I want to give you just two words of advice for your ministry Take Risks”. I have never forgotten those words and never will. A few weeks after that great meeting I was visiting Pope John Paul II. I was with the Young leadership section of the International Council of Christians and Jews. I went for a walk with the pope through the Vatican and he turned to me and said you are at the early stage of your ministry you will go far if you always take risks. “Yes your Holiness I said I promise I always will”. This is indeed what I have done throughout my entire ministry.

For me risk taking has affected every aspect of my life and I know for a fact that when I have not taken risks I have limited the work of the Holy Spirit. Now in retrospect I know when I have done this and have asked God’s forgiveness for these mistakes I made and I know that my Lord and my God has forgiven me.
So how have I taken these risks of the kingdom:

1, Risks in Asking Much from God

2, Risks in working for Reconciliation

3, Risks in dealing with bad people

4, Risks in bringing enemies together

5, Risks in giving everything

Dear Pope Francis…

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http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/the-pope/10839223/Italian-women-appeal-to-Pope-Francis-to-end-priests-celibacy-vow.html

If Pope Francis pays heed to the heartfelt cries of not only these women but to the silent prayers of Christian women all over the world who are single not through choice, then the floodgates of marriages made in heaven will truly open.

Think of it like this: churches all around the world are outnumbered by holy, sexy godly women.

Meanwhile, the Vatican is full of holy, sexy, godly men. I know. I was there last summer and was so distracted by them all, I had to eat my gelato with sunglasses permanently fixed to my face even at nighttime.

Why should His Holiness, Pope Francis, not take these godly sexy bulls by the horns and release them to charge forward with the power of the Holy Spirit behind them to find the women of their dreams and fulfill God’s wish for us all to live in love with one another?

As far as I am aware, St Paul wrote in I Corinthians 7, marriage is not such a bad thing after all. Jesus healed St Peter’s mother in law. Adam and Eve kick started the whole game of love in the Garden of Eden. It’s time to rethink a principal based on a 1,000 year tradition which is not based on Biblical realities and move forward.

Pray and stay alert. The Winds of Change are blowing.

Pray and Shway – Updated 5 February 2014

Stan+Laurel

Life living in the desert can ever be described as a)colourless b)monotonous c) straight forward.

From the mutant hour daily get ups at 4.45am before a 90 minute journey in the dark up to the Saudi Border, the day begins and ends in a fog peppered with exhaustion and bewilderment.  I’d be lying if I said that there weren’t recent moments of emotional paralysis where the frustration has seemed engulfing with private tears and public rants more prevalent than before.

Don’t get me wrong: this country is most definitely my home and I love it here. I am grateful each day for the patience and love of my fellow Arabic colleagues who are so encouraging and big hearted in my attempts to chat with them using my few dodgy Arabic phrases. However, my heart truly longs for the day when I can sit and listen properly to their conversations and hear what is really going on in their lives.

I often feel like I resemble Stan Laurel in my many facial expressions during the situations I find myself in where 1 out of every thousand or so words is comprehensible and my limited phrases and words can only get me so far. My eyes frequently twist and turn and my eyebrows definitely move like Jagger. Gormless is most probably the less glamorous word I could use here, but I shall move on as we all know that the power of life and death lies in our tongues and the words we speak, ahem. (See previous postings.) http://biblehub.com/proverbs/18-21.htm

I have attached some of the Stan Laurel moments from the past year below. They are in no way intended to mock anyone or show any disrespect in any way to anyone living or working with me who is from the UAE or the GCC. They are written to share the wonderment of this habitation of the daily bizarre during this particular jigsaw piece of our lives.

It is my sincere wish that these musings a) encourage some who are in similar situations to keep going and to b) make others in far (and not so far) away lands with cream sofas and Starbucks and Malls and shiny pretty things on their doorsteps to think outside their boxes and stop taking things like cream sofas and Starbucks and Malls and shiny pretty things for granted.

But most of all, I want just people to read these postings and smile.

Lord, help us to Pray and Shway.  We are always telling the children to ‘shway shway,’ in order to calm and slow them down. Help us, Lord, to apply this to our own lives and the every day learning experiences and frustrations we find ourselves in. Help us slow down, throw up our prayers and keep going knowing that you are in control and everything will be ok. In your name we pray. Amen.

 

Wednesday 5th February, 2014

So, today in a classroom in a far away land filled with sand, I dropped a piece of paper on the floor. The response from little Wildcat ‘friend’ (who looks like a mini Arab Idol contestant with his HUGE bouffant mullet hair, back combed and hairsprayed, and who often is caught combing his mane whilst sitting in class) was this:

‘Ohhhh sheeetttt!’, both palms up raised heavenward, both shoulders squeezed way up to his ears, face gasping then scrunched up in very, very dramatic way.

So, English obviously spoken at home then. Is my job here done?

(He is 5 but can write the word ‘Butterfly’ without help, so can be forgiven, right? He was also wearing his brown leather jacket zipped up to the neck and when he walks, he has that ‘home boy’ swagger thang going on. Was also caught yesterday jumping from one table to another. Maybe not forgiven, just yet?)

January 27, 2013

Somewhere, somehow, today in another (NB this is not the first) Arabic Lost in Translation Moment, my classroom was interrupted by a gasping Arabic lady asking (too mild a verb, sorry),”Meeez Choood!! Meeeezzzz Chooooodd!! Your daughter eeezz DYYYIIINNNNGGGG????!!! Where weeeeellll you go??!”

Erm, no. Sorry. No daughter and I would like to stay here, please? As I stood there with facial expressions resembling Stan Laurel (he was the skinny, dopey one, right?), about 4 other Arabic ladies, having heard the shrieking from the first lady and obviously concerned about what was going on in the doorway of my tiny classroom, had arrived.

I explained in very broken Arabic that I didn’t have a daughter and so everything was ok, no one was dying and that it was a good day, Mashallah.

However, they began to look even more horrified and I became even more afraid that the first lady was about to collapse.

‘Noooo daughtarrrr??!!’ they all cried in unison, going up way too high at the end of each of their words, eyes popping out of their shaking heads accompanied by much tutting and hands being raised heavenward.

‘No daughter,’ I replied meekly, shaking my head and almost closing my eyes in shame.

‘HAZZZZZBBBAAAANNNNTTT?’ They gasped-their voices becoming louder and much more shrill. Gasping for breath continued.

‘No. No husband,’ I whispered.

Shrieks (of horror?) from all the women now. Much more tutting and grabbing my cheeks and kissing my face, stroking my hair and shouting at each other. Were they blaming my short hair for my marital status? I don’t know. Were they were happy for me? Saddened? Excited about fixing me up with their brothers, cousins, uncles, sheikh friends? I. Don’t. Know. I feel like Stan Laurel. Am glad that the little wild kittens managed to get on with their work in the midst of such theatrics and produced some great pictures and words about aeroplanes (they’ve never seen a train before).

March 27, 2013

Quote from Land of Sand today: Meez Chood, pliz I take pikchar? Your face like kitty kettt…

May 20, 2013

Small child, pointing to her head/hairstyle: Meeez Choood! Looook! Cake!

Me: No, bun.

October 22, 2013

Small lispy, high-pitched Wildcat today, aptly named Essa (translated into English: Jesus), holding door open for me (I am, therefore, already suspicious): Tha-lam-al-ay-koom ha-bee-thee. (Roughly translated: How you doin’ sweetheart, eh?)

Then winks.

I look down at him and say: Imti hamza, Essa? (Aren’t you only five years old, Essa? Should you really be saying that to your teacher?)

Essa: La. Arba. (No. I’m 4). Winks and runs off.

Grrrr.

October 24, 2013

Week starts with car accident which narrowly misses us. Week ends with the little nocturnal Wildcats playing hide and seek in the pitch black outside the apartment despite pot-holes, glass and traffic and I am drinking shiraz from a mug because nowhere out here sells wine glasses, of course. Stay classy, world. No surrender.

November 18, 2013

Today in the Land of Sand everything was going ‘well’ until, whilst attempting to share the genius of drawing different shapes with a collective of non English speaking Wildcat-Bedouin 5 year olds, I managed to slide off the wee green chair I was sitting in. No one noticed until after about a long minute (probably less, who knows in this time-free, shawaya shawaya zone), when I heard a little voice announce to the class, ‘Whirrrr MeEeEeEEEEEzzzzz Choooodddd”. “Here. On the floor, habiti’, I said, raising my hand and lowering my head, wondering how in my 30,000 years of teaching across continents and varying academic establishments it had taken me this long to slide to the floor without alcohol. The Wildcats, for the first time this year, showed no expression. They simply didn’t react. They just looked at me like I was so dumb. So very, very stupid. Yet, each day, I see one of them, at least, attempt a handstand on the carpet before we sing songs or try to pull someone’s nose off their face. Or kick them in the head. Or jump off a table. So, really, Wildcats, game on if you want to get competitive. — eating Dahl which was originally intended to be a lentil soup but I got it wrong.

November 19, 2013

When travelling long distances each day to work, interesting conversations often pop up both as a way to stay awake and as a possible manifestation of the slight insanity which both accompanies and is a pre-requisite to desert living. Today, the topic of conversation included how many more Arab men seem to be taking Asian women as their 4th wives and how some of us had seen more mixed race Arab/Asia children in malls etc.

So far, so shaway. I arrive back into the village I call home and then head off to get my spuds and avocado (which I had been thinking about cooking since about 7am this morning – another survival trick) from the local Lulu’s when who should I see but an Arab man with super curly long hair, a flat cap, khandora, Ray Ban shades and a larger Asian wife. They proceeded to put my potato and avocado into their trolley. ‘Mafi mushukula’, I said, and they gave it back to me.

I then toddle on home and open up the kitchen window and proceed to go out of the flat to the rubbish shoot when I hear a bang. When I get back to the flat, the door has slammed locked shut behind me. I am horrified. I am wearing my pyjama bottoms and my work top. Thankfully, my bra had not been taken off for the night. So, after three trips up and down the stairs to check if Mr Advil (yes, really, as in painkiller brand) or Mr Jamal (yes, really as in Camel) our friendly maintenance men are around, I head off and walk across the lovely green garden outside the 4 apartment blocks, past lots of looks from the dear Muslim ladies and walk towards Mr Jamal, our maintenance man who, thankfully, I see across the car park. “Hazir kabir mushkula, Mr Jamal,” I exclaim.

We head back to the apartment and he knocks on the door of the Jordanian family who live next door and walks into their flat while my neighbour takes this opportunity to comes out into the corridor and starts to ask me about my day as I sit on the floor in my pyjama bottoms and work top, thankful that I am still wearing my bra.

Suddenly my door opens from the inside and Mr Jamal looks down and smiles at me. ‘Helllo Mz Chood techerrrr!” He says with a grin.

I am astounded and ask him how he managed to get into my flat but he doesn’t reply and looks at the ground and shakes his head. He is obviously embarrassed but my neighbour proceeds to explain that Mr Jamal has gone into his flat, stepped out on to the window ledge and WALKED ACROSS THE THIN WINDOW LEDGE to my open kitchen window (the cause of all the nonsense and suction/air vent rubbish in the first place) and let himself into my apartment.

Mr Jamal, at this point has walked off, obviously embarrassed and so I run after him to give him a 5 pack of noodles (all I could find in the flurry of excitement and bewilderment which ensued). I later see him standing across the car park looking towards our apartment block, I hope congratulating himself.

Spiderman lives on, people. He is truly alive and well here in this part of the Land of Sand. And yes, he was wearing a red t shirt.

January 20

Stan Laurel moment #(oh, a thousand and something, at least…)

“Mz Chood! Plizz. You gif me five minute I go uzzarr kless problem zay mik baby in za kless.”

Now, had I been in those hazy, halcyon days of teaching in Slough or glorious inner city London, innit, I might have been more concerned. This, however, is pretty standard Land of Sand daily chat.

Link

 

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As the end of the year draws quickly to a close, we expats across the world have already begun packing our bags to return home for Christmas. Expectations and tensions can run high at this emotionally charged time of year and, as adults, it is difficult to not wish that life could just this once rekindle a child like expectation of the excitement and wonder of Christmas Eve stockings, presents and selection boxes for breakfast. If only everything were as exciting as when we were children and Santa’s letter was sent up the chimney whilst our little legs measled against a roaring fire and our hearts fluttered.

Sometimes, prayers can seem like a will-he/won’t-he-bring-me list to a God who seems as real as Father Christmas. “Has He actually heard this prayer I’ve been groaning for the past ten, twenty, thirty years?” we wonder.

Unfortunately, more often than not, our words and hope just simply run out. We’ve reached the end. Our prayers take too long to get answered and we grow weary, just like the end of the year, when our dinner consists of biscuits and toast and our throats grow raspy.There seems no answer in sight. While our bodies ache for some kind of closure to prayers we have whispered in the dark and cried out in the silent, lonely places only we know, the all powerful God who made us is on silent. We’re left feeling confused, angry, bewildered, exhausted and despondent.

Disappointment and sadness envelop the child like hope and light within and we just give up. We’re left sitting alone in a big, drafty room in a vacant, dark, haunted house.

And then, ever so quickly and subtly, something inside us just switches off because, let’s face it, there really seems to be no response from a Santa like God sitting in a distant, imaginary land full of elves and wooden toys.

In this talk, we hear how any amount of faith, no matter how small it is, is enough. Let me write that again. Any amount of faith, no matter how small it is,  is enough. It is enough. 

A Christmas Prayer List for God for Expats:

1.Help us have faith to just believe that you’re working behind the scenes

2.That you haven’t forgotten us.

3. Please, Lord, send us all true love, peace, happiness and joy this Christmas.

4. For those of us travelling home to family situations, Lord, we beg you for short queues, simple check ins, upgrades, spacious seats, and swift travel. May we all think before we speak to those we haven’t seen in a while, remembering that the power of both life and death lies in our words.

5.  To those of us away from family and friends at Christmas, please send loving, happy people to encourage and nurture us during this reflective time of year.

6. But most of all, help us, Lord, to speak to the mountains in our life with the confidence and hope that only you can miraculously give us.

Thank you, Lord, that you will bring us so much wonderment over this Christmas time to allow us to return in January with so many stories of your goodness and blessings upon us. 

Pax vobiscum.

What is Love? (Baby, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me…)

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Recently, I have been pondering what the true meaning of love is. If you love someone, set them free.  All you need is love. Love is a many splendid thing, indeed, but how do we really show someone that we love them?  Sometimes, it is by sitting on our hands and doing and saying nothing while they hurt us with words and actions. Sometimes, it is giving them our last dirham or a simple smile and hello. This passage of the the New Testament is a Wedding Favourite, but imagine if we substituted the word ‘Love’ for ‘I am’ when reading the following passage. A somewhat sobering thought as all of us strive to attain the all perfect love for each other when it is the last thing we feel capable of. Lord, help us. Lord, graciously help us show the world what true love is. Peace out.

The Way of Love…

I Corinthians 13

13 If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.

If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.

3-7 If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t Iove, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

(Therefore, with God’s help and grace…)

  • I never give up.
  • I care more for others than for self.
  • I don’t want what I don’t have.
  • I don’t strut.
  • I don’t have a swelled head.
  • I don’t force myself on others.
  • I am not always “me first.”
  • I don’t fly off the handle.
  • I don’t keep score of the sins of others.
  • I don’t revel when others grovel.
  • I take pleasure in the flowering of truth.
  • I put up with anything.
  • I trust God always.
  • I always look for the best.
  • I never look back but I keep going to the end.

http://www.biblegateway.com

Less is more

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We have all had to simplify our lives living here in the desert. The nearest city is around 180 minutes drive away and the journey is nothing short of exhausting.  A weekend trip to Abu Dhabi is supposed to be refreshing but any relaxation felt is soon erased by the arduous drive back to our desert accommodation.

At some point, all of us have felt that our former lives in the West have been brutally stripped away and have left us bare and vulnerable. Each of us has often questioned why we are here.

Yet something much stronger overrides this sense of exposure to the unknown and uncertainty of this lifestyle we now find ourselves in. Its name is Peace. http://biblehub.com/john/14-27.htm

Expat Desert Inhabitants have made difficult choices, sacrificing friends and family and a lifestyle back home to follow what we know in our hearts to be the right professional and/or personal choice.  If we looked at our situation with human eyes and took everything at face value, we would feel overwhelmed.

Yet, when we are in a place where we know we are meant to be, we are somewhat at pains to describe to others why we remain.  Paradoxically, we know that if we stayed in our home countries, we would feel restless and unsettled with each passing day; the silent sentiments of no longer belonging to the society into which we were born steadily consuming us.

I am blessed by new friends and colleagues who identify with the difficulties we are facing together. Chats whilst sharing cups of tea and coffee, bread, biscuits, books read, clothes that no longer fit, recipes, drives to the city, weekly car-pools to work when we all need a 30 minute lie in, recommended podcasts and albums all combine to enable us to develop our sense of community and sisterhood.

There is much joy to be found in what is sometimes an incomprehensible life when we look outwards, forget ourselves and keep going. Personally, I am often encouraged by the words once sent to me many years ago by my sister:  Look outwards; forget yourself. And those of my dad:  Keep going and don’t look back or you’ll turn into a pillar of salt! http://biblehub.com/genesis/19-26.htm

Many of us are finding talents which have been lying dormant for so long and are making jewelry or painting and sketching. Some are learning languages for travels to and from the Middle East whilst others are discovering a flare for making sour cream and guacamole (see last post: In the desert, we make our own sour cream…)

Although it may seem we have little, we are growing inwardly and outwardly.  Just as it was in the story of Jesus feeding the 4000, we learn that although things more than often do not make sense, as we continually pray in all circumstances and keep looking on the bright side, miracles happen and we find ourselves coping.http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+8&version=MSG

Prayer:  Lord, forgive us for times when we have been disgruntled, disillusioned and disappointed about the circumstances we find ourselves in. Forgive us for the times when we don’t appreciate what we have and help us see the satisfaction of simple living. Help us understand that it is by spreading out what little we already have that more of us are blessed and encouraged. Thank you that by trusting you, we don’t need to always have and understand the answers. Thank you that you are a creative God who loves communication http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=john%201&version=MSG; that you invented words, chats and a wonderful world to be discovered.

Please, help us, Lord.

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Thessalonians+5%3A16-18&version=NIV,

Listen to:  Mumford & Sons

‘In the desert, we make our own sour cream…’

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I attended the rather jolly birthday celebrations of an Emirati friend at the weekend and thoroughly enjoyed stuffing my pretty lil’ face with various Mexican dishes prepared by two beautiful colleagues, R & M.

As we are living in the desert lands, these resourceful ladies, upon realizing that our two local food markets (not forgetting one an hour’s drive away) didn’t stock any sour cream, they decided to do what all good desert inhabitants do: make their own!

Please read below and try it out. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s muy delicioso!

Here are R’s words…  

Sour Cream was easy to make. I used about 1 carton of heavy cream and 1/2 cup of yogurt. I used a lot quite a bit of yogurt because the one we get in the market is not very sour, so requires a little bit. Do heat the heavy milk slightly in the microwave for about 2-3 minutes and then mix the yogurt or butter milk and let it sit in a warm place for about 24 hours. Ours was ready to go just before the party and I had started it 10:30 pm the night before…

Listen to: Salsa Music Party Mix, of course!

Lord, thank you for giving us imaginations and creativity. Thank you for parties, birthdays, global friends and all things jolly. Thank you that you delight in providing so much for us so that we can get together in the isolated parts of the world to have fun. Thank you for our Latino friends and their wonderful recipes and music. Bless them, Lord, and keep them in your care.  Amen. 

Variations on a Theme of Veggie Spice…

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Tonight, I added half a pineapple (which I had chopped up into pieces yesterday morning), to the basic veggie recipe which is listed below. Half a packet of roasted almonds in the cupboard were urging me to add them to this dish of mouth watering proportions so I dropped them into the bubbles towards the end. Next time, I am going to fry them at the start before I add the oil and spices, remove them and then sprinkle them over the top of the final plat du jour, as they felt a little soggy, though tasty nonetheless, in the dish.

I also asked the green beans and some bean sprouts if they would like to join and they said that they would be delighted.

The beansprouts, of course, didn’t have to cook in the pan. They were set gently on top of some couscous (which had been fluffed up and cooked up with a veggie stock and a knob of butter), before the spicy veggies were placed on top.

Treat of the week is a UK CHOCOLATE TWIRL bar. Have found a shop in the area which stocks a few UK chocolate bars, and, for obvious reasons will under no circumstances be disclosing its location. (There’d be less for me, duh.) I bought five bars and put a packet of McVities Chocolate Digestives back on the shelf. It was hard, but too much of a good thing…

Listen to:  Michael Bublé: It’s Time. (An oldie, but a goodie. Downloaded from iTunes for a fiver.)

Lord, thank you for Michael Bublé and Twirl Bars to help the Saturday Night Blues pass by…