The Literature in my Life

"...They were the strangest pair at such a time that ever firelight shone upon.

Mr. Dombey so erect and solemn,
gazing at the blaze;
his little image, with an old, old face, peering into the red perspective
with the fixed and rapt attention of a sage.

Mr. Dombey entertaining complicated worldly schemes and plans;
the little image entertaining Heaven knows what wild fancies,
half-formed thoughts, and wandering speculations.

Mr. Dombey stiff with starch and arrogance;
the little image by inheritance, and in unconscious imitation.

The two so very much alike,
and yet so monstrously contrasted.


On one of these occasions...

little Paul broke silence thus:
'Papa!  what's money?'

The abrupt question has such immediate reference to the subject
of Mr. Dombey's thoughts,
that Mr. Dombey was quite disconcerted.

'What is money, Paul?' he answered.  'Money?'

'Yes,' said the child laying his hands upon the elbows of his little chair,
and turning the old face up towards Mr. Dombey's;
'What is money?'

Mr. Dombey was in a difficulty.
He would have liked to give him some explanation
involving the terms circulating-medium, currency, paper,
bullion, rates of exchange, value of precious metals in the market,
and so forth;
but looking down at the little chair,
and seeing what a long way down it was, he answered,

'Gold, and silver, and copper.  Guineas, shillings, half-pence.
You know what they are?'

'Oh, yes, I know what they are,' said Paul.
'I don't mean that, Papa.  I mean, what's the money after all.'

Heaven and Earth, how old his face was as he turned it up again towards his father's!

'What is money after all!' said Mr. Dombey,
backing his chair a little, that he might the better gaze
in sheer amazement at the presumptuous atom
that propounded such an inquiry.

'I mean, Papa, what can it do?' returned Paul,
folding his arms (they were hardly long enough to fold),
and looking at the fire,
and up at him,
and at the fire,
and up at him again.

Mr. Dombey drew his chair back to its former place,
and patted him on the head.

'You'll know better bye-and-bye, my man,' he said.
'Money, Paul, can do anything.'

He took hold of the little hand,
and beat it softly against one of his own as he said so.

But Paul got his hand free as soon as he could;
and rubbing it gently to and fro on the elbow of his chair,
as if his wit were in the palm,
and he were sharpening it -
and looking at the fire again,
as though the fire had been his advisor and prompter-
repeated, after a short pause:

'Anything, Papa?'

'Yes.  Anything - almost,' said Mr. Dombey.

'Anything means everything, don't it, Papa?'
asked his son:
not observing, or possibly not understanding,
the qualification.

'It includes it: yes,' said Mr. Dombey.

'Why didn't money save me my mamma?' returned the child.
'It isn't cruel, is it?'

'Cruel!' said Mr. Dombey,
settling his neck cloth, and seeming to resent the idea.
'No. A good thing can't be cruel.'

'If it's a good thing, and can do anything,'
said the little fellow thoughtfully,
as he looked back at the fire,
'I wonder why it didn't save me my mamma.'

This selection is from the book Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens.

I am not one who makes time for reading books for fun,
like this one would be,
because there always seems to be a hundred other things to get done,
and the moment I open a book like this,
my eyes seem to instantly close,
choosing sleep over many long pages of overly long words such as these.

But I love stories like this:
so deep and full of little lessons and unique characters.

So I am listening to it,
all 30 CD's of it,

38 hours long...



...while I am out here working on painting.

It was a Christmas gift from an aunt
who joins me in my love for this type of book,
and in hearing it read by a good reader.

It was one of my favorite Christmas gifts and will give me hours
of fun entertainment.

Kelly's Korner had a link-up I wanted to join about books that we are
"reading."

This sits by my table for paging through for ideas while 

carefully

eating breakfast or lunch,

if it's a quiet one,

after the kids have finished theirs.

I picked these up at the library.

Of course, these came from the same place

and are also on my reading list,

although these are how I practice my reading out loud

and use of different voices

while balancing a child or two on my lap.

This is my morning feast.

I love Tozer;

his daily devotionals are always so helpful.

I like to read a portion from the Old and New Testament.

And I try to squeeze in some of this book a few times a week.

It is helpful for dealing with kids and what causes them to lose their tempers

(I may not agree with or do everything it says,

but it is full of helpful information).

Of course, I find it helpful for myself as well.

After all, I need to deal with my own irritation prompts

before I can help them address theirs.

And lastly, this is my healthy cookbook

that I sneak into when possible,

when I want to broaden my knowledge about cooking a bit healthier.

That's my literary base at the moment.

It's not college textbooks or genius prep courses,

but it's my staple of words on paper at the moment.

What have you been divulging your eyeballs with

in book-form lately?

Cream Cheese Recipe and "Y" "I" "M" "A" Bad Teecher.

I have come to realize that I have issues as a teacher.

Violet does some of her school

in the kitchen.

But this is not what is bad,

I don't think.

We do several subjects at the kitchen table,

mostly because it is convenient for me to start my part of teaching

while Violet is finishing up her lunch

(No, dear family and friends,

this is NOT when we start school.

She does seat-work that I can explain in between

semi-volcanic-sized-toddler-invoked eruptions before this time.)

But after her lunch,

the baby goes down for her nap

and I can think...

 with some cohesiveness.

History and science are the kitchen table subjects.

Science often involves an experiment anyhow
and these are best conducted in here:

my really and truly science lab.

After this has been squared away

and the house has been deemed somewhat safe again,

I begin my own dangers while Violet does her reading aloud.

 Recently,
I began the process of making cream cheese by pouring a gallon 

of raw milk into a heavy pot.

This gets heated on medium-low just barely,

so it's to 85 degrees F, which doesn't take long!

1/8 tsp. of cream cheese culture is added

(I will have to see if there is a specific name for this and come back and edit.

I borrowed some from my Sister-in-law, who gave me this recipe)

2 - 4 drops of rennet are mixed into 1 Tablespoon of warm water.

(Rennet?  What in the world is rennet?

"I'll have to look that up on the internet later,"

says the mad cooking-scientist.)

After adding the rennet water to the warm milk,

it gets stirred for one minute,

and then set aside somewhere very safe

where little creatures that climb and pillage will never find it

so that it can sit for 8 - 16 hours

(interpretation for me: tomorrow).

Well, now, that was easy!

What's the big deal about making cream cheese?

In this household, the citizens think cream cheese is 

one of the main food groups, so this is great!

And making it this way is so much healthier

because it is made "by the beneficial action of wonderful lactic-acid producing bacteria."

(as I found out in my Nourishing Traditions Cookbook),

rather than buying the store-bought,

which is produced by the use of high pressure.

Meanwhile, the little Chickadee is reading along in her book.

This is the book.

Funny, because her curriculum suggested that she read "Farmer Boy" in this same series,

but I couldn't find it.

It turned up later, but we'd already started this,

and

it being the very first book in the series,

I figured, "Why not?

We'll just read them all."

Herein lies the problem.

I don't remember reading this book.

We may have, but I was very young;

things like this didn't really click in my little pea-brained head back then.

Things really impress me now.

For example:

Violet was reading along 

when I raced over to the table and said,

"What was that?

They're doing WHAT with the pig bladder?

A ball?

Their playing with a pig-bladder ball?!"

Violet, intent upon getting her reading done,

suddenly sensed the deep interest in me

shown by my sudden snatching of her book

and demanded,

"What is a bladder?"

Suffice it to say,

she was not too impressed with their play equipment.

The snatching does not end there.

"Oh, isn't that great!  I should write that down somewhere."

Another time...

"What did they do with the babies

when they all got together for a party at Grandma's?

Put them where?

Let me see.

Let me see.

Aw, look at all the babies in rows!

They didn't have baby-sitters,

so they laid them on the bed in rows.

Isn't that funny!"

Violet has become pretty defensive of her reading book.

It's getting too many dish-water finger stains on it.

I never realized how many great things are in these books.

And then it happened.

I was peacefully working away over on my side of the kitchen

when I heard her read,

  "When the grass was tall and thick in the woods and the cows were giving plenty of milk, that was the time to make cheese.  

  Somebody must kill a calf, for cheese could not be made without rennet, and rennet is the lining of a young calf's stomach.  The calf must be very young, so that it had never eaten anything but milk."

The book was attacked again.

Then I noticed the label on my rennet.

"Ahhh, is that why it says 'Veal Rennet'

That is really amazing!  I wonder how they ever figured that out."

As Violet continued reading,

I felt as if I had just done the same things as Ma,

although in a much easier way.

We didn't have to get together with Uncle Henry and Grandpa

to see who wanted to spare a young calf so that we might all 

have some rennet for our cheese.

After the allotted time, my cream cheese had certainly separated into a

"smooth quivery mass."

I also scooped out my cheese

and let it drain in my cloth,

a jelly stand/bag.

The whey drips out through the bag into a bowl...

and I keep adding more into the bag,

letting it settle down into it,

until it all fit,

just right.

This sat draining for about 12 hours

to make sure it was good and dry.

I tasted the whey.

Yuck!

I took a drink of water rather quickly.

When Violet later read,

"The first day Ma made cheese,

Laura tasted the whey.  She tasted it without saying anything to Ma,

and when Ma turned around and saw her face, Ma laughed."

I understand, Laura.

 I saved the whey, nontheless, because it is very healthy.

Nourishing Traditions Cookbook says that 1 Tbs. of it in water is good 

for digestion and keeps muscles young.   

It also quotes:

"Old Par, (an English peasant) who lived to the age of 152 years and 9 months, existed and even thrived on a diet of 'subrancid cheese and milk in every form, coarse and hard bread and small drink, generally sour whey,' as William Harvey wrote... 'On this sorry fare, but living in his home, free from care, did this poor man attain such length of days.' Terence McLaughlin A Diet of Tripe."

So I used some of it in our dessert

and froze the rest,

to be inserted in other unsuspecting recipes.

Long live my wee folk!

After the 12 hours of draining was past,

the cream cheese got put in the mixer and whipped up

with a little bit of mineral salt.

(This amount is supposed to make about 5 8oz. containers.

It looked about right.)

And the taste...

...was incredible!

Violet might not be so pleased with my

snatching at her school books

or making her repeat what she just read so I can hear it again,

but I have to say that she was impressed with the cream cheese.

Our next chapter looks like this:

she'll not have to worry about my trying to do any of that!

(Thank you sincerely to all the great advice in the previous post.  It was very helpful.
Also, today is the last day to sign up for the giveaway <HERE>.)

Linked to:  Many little blessings: Helpful-homeschool-hints
Funky Junk Interiors: sns 
Home is where my story begins: Happy-Friday
Simply Sweet Home: Friday-favorites
Bella Vita: Fresh-clean-and-pure-Friday
Stuff-and-Nonsense: Fridays-unfolded
 Common Ground: Vintage-inspiration-Friday
Diary of a Stay At Home Mom: Cooking-Thursday
Raising Homemakers: Homemaking-link-up

Saved by Love Creations: Thrifty-Thursday-blog-hop
And to:

Below are 

two of the items mentioned in this blog

that I find immensely helpful:

Cinderella's Marriage: Wedded Bliss or Blisters?

My husband and I celebrated a dozen years of marriage today,

 >HURRAY!<

Thank you very much;

but before I get to that, I have a question that's been on my mind all day:

  What happened to Cinderella and the Prince?

Do you ever wonder what "Happily Ever After" means?

  How soon after the wedding do you think the girl of Cinders started picking up and cleaning and slipping down to the kitchen to check out the situation down there?  What was her first "disagreement" with the prince about?

  Did he say,

"It is not proper for the wife of the prince to do the tasks you are used to doing," 

 or did she toss a dirty sock at his head and say,

"Don't make somebody else have to pick these things up!  What's wrong with you royalty?"

  I read a book as a girl called Dora Thorne.  It was a story based on a rich man during the Victorian era that married the care-takers daughter; it shed new light on "happily ever after" to me and made me see marriage differently.  Dora misunderstands a situation and lets her emotions run away with her; she accuses her husband wrongfully in front of people.  This eventually causes them to separate and their daughter then suffers the consequences.  It was a great book, and although I can't remember all the details now, I know it changed things in my fairy-tale ideals.  If you ever to happen on this book, grab it.  It's a great read!

  Marriage is made of wedded bliss with wedded blisters. 

Marriage is work. 

Both of the houses we bought needed a lot of work.

Lots of blisters.

My farmer works a full-time job that is an hour drive away.  When he gets home, he has the farm work to do.

There's always something to do around here.

Of course, I have plenty to keep me busy as well:

 feeding the kids, cleaning, home-schooling, feeding the kids, 

 

 mulching and weeding and adding more and more flower beds because they are beautiful and needed.

Needed.

  Yes, they are needed.

I sell plants and the beautiful gardens help my plants to sell, so they are needed;

 at least,

that's what I tell my Farmer,

and he is kind.

Where was I...

Oh, yes,

gardening and canning,

 cooking, feeding the kids and the man, oh, and feeding the animals sometimes, too, and laundry.

Laundry.

And more laundry.

Don't worry; I didn't take any pictures of that.

  I didn't want to risk an avalanche.

(This will have to do.)

But aside from the mundane that we all have to do, there are other "blisters" in marriage.

The daily annoyances that make us grit our teeth.

 The blisters of this sort offer us 2 responses:

1. we can let them be blisters,

or 

2. we can make them our bliss in disguise.

They are learning experiences,

growing pains,

temporary issues:

the stitches Levi got from the rock that landed above his eyebrow.

Violet said he threw it in the air, and it came back to hit him;

but a year and a half later she admitted that she threw it at him.

Poor little man.

Violet's kitten grew up too quickly and I didn't get her taken care of soon enough.

The Farmer was not impressed when the tiny momma gave birth to 7 babies.

SEVEN!

Violet was in bliss!

But they are great barn cats now,

and they saw the vet so there will be

no more kittens.

Sorry, Levi.

The little tedium of the day that can annoy;

who doesn't like neat and clean and order?

Toys!

  Everywhere!

  They hurt when you step on them in the dark.

Books!

  Everywhere!

  They SLIDE when you step on them in the dark.

And produce...

EVERYWHERE!

Keeps me up working late

in the dark.

Kids...

when you step through the door after a long day at work

and out in the fields...

they still want love and attention:

it's a matter of bliss or blisters.

I think in marriage, the bliss and blisters is what builds the marriage into a thing of beauty,

but the bliss HAS to be there.

Yes, everywhere,

not just in those obvious places,

but everywhere.

My farmer and I have matters of bliss and blisters that are so closely connected.

I'm sure you have them, too.

Let me explain:

Pretty nearly every night at supper, because of where I sit, I have to ask my Farmer to plop some food on my plate for me, or refill my cup with the pitcher near him.

I can tell you that every time

EVERY TIME,

he puts 1 Tbs. of liquid into my cup,

or 2 peas on my plate,

and says,

"There ya go."

It's funny.

Well, it was funny, the first 15 times.  I might even give him the first 20.

But about the 5,000 time, it's not funny anymore.

  Nope.

The thing is, though, the fact that it's not really funny anymore doesn't matter.

I know what he wants.

 My farmer wants me to look at him.  Because I always do.  

"Very funny; now give me some more."

Invariably, he adds one more pea.

Now my response to this when I've had a long day and dealt with 2 times of spilled milk, a half hour explaining subtraction to my oldest and still not understanding how to subtract, a teething baby, a dog that got an upset stomach, wet clothes from the pond 3 times,

and finding that somebody ate the last oreo...

well, let's just say a growl is about the best I can do.

But I feel badly later.  Because I know that what he really wanted when he gave me 2 peas and then 1 more was for us to meet at the dinner table for a smile,

that teasing look,

a moment of bliss

amongst the peas and the kids and the baby dropping her food on the floor.

I chose whether I will accept that moment of bliss

or make it a blister.

The same goes for him when I slurp my watermelon,

or soup,

or drink,

or whatever I can find that is slurpable that night.

Would you like some bliss or blister tonight, Mr. Farmer?

This is the card my Farmer gave me today for our anniversary.

He always finds the perfect card to make me smile.

It was a moment of bliss.

Linking up to:
Kellys Korner Blog: Marriage Advice