Currently Reading Confessions of Saint Augustine (Image Book) By St. Augustine, John Kenneth Ryan (Translator) see related

"For wherever the soul of man turns itself, unless toward Thee, it is enmeshed in sorrows, even though it is surrounded by beautiful things outside thee and outside itself. For lovely things would simply not be unless they were from Thee."

Confessions of St. Augustine, Book Four, Chapter X.

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 I battled Madame Technology today and triumphed! So here you have my newest colored-pencil project, nearly half completed. My beautiful friend Allison posed for me, and a lovely model she is, too! The picture itself was inspired by a song entitled The Maiden and the Sailor, and the lyrics are as follows:

He bid her farewell, and he sailed away

In search of good fortune at sea,

And when he come home, they would marry that day

And live in a true lovers' dream.

But the winds blew harsh and the sky turned black.

The ship, she was tossed in the sea.

All lives were lost, there was no turning back

A storm that was destiny.

Yes, it still makes me cry to listen to. But I discussed with Charity yesterday morning, nothing makes me happier than a good tragedy, right?

Right . . . .

Anyway, I must now treat you all to a recipe for Six Hour Strawberry Pie.

This is a remarkably precise process, my dears, so pay close attention. It takes particular talent to take a basic pie recipe and turn it into a six hour long endeavor, I tell you!

Step One: you pick up your fellow pie-baker from church, leaving her poor "distraught" twin brother behind since his mother deemed it best that he not spend the day surrounded by giggly girls. Can't possibly understand why! (That was verbal irony, in case you didn't catch it.)

Step Two: You and fellow pie-baker sit and visit with your roommate and other friend for about an hour and a half before looking at the recipe. (Actually, these first two steps don't even really count as part of the six hour process . . . .)

Step Three: You and fellow pie-baker take out the recipe and give it a once over. You get distracted by conversation for fifteen minutes before looking at the recipe again. You make out a grocery list.

Step Four: You and fellow pie-baker make your first pilgrimage to Food Lion and purchase all the ingredients, remembering only just in time to buy strawberries (since this is a strawberry pie, after all).

Step Five: You and fellow pie-baker make it back home. You put on Broadway music and start singing together.

Step Six: You remember that you're supposed to make a pie. You and fellow pie-baker put in the first two ingredients.

Step Seven: You and fellow pie-baker realize that you do not have a pie pan.

Step Eight: You and fellow pie-baker make your second pilgrimage to Food Lion. Your roommate calls you up as you're on your way and requests that you pick up ice cream. You make all sorts of promises to comply.

Step Nine: You buy and pie pan, and you and fellow pie-baker return home. As you step inside the door, you realize that you forgot ice cream . . . .

Step Ten: You and fellow pie-baker grovel in abject humility at the feet of your roommate, who graciously forgives your error.

Step Eleven: You return to the pie crust.

Step Twelve: The pie crust is put in the refrigerator to chill for half and hour. You and fellow pie-baker start cutting up strawberries.

Step Thirteen: You and fellow pie-baker start talking about all sorts of things, important things, like hair and boys and clothes and boys and music and boys and drama and boys and art and boys and family and boys and books and boys, and you start to realize just how very adorable your fellow pie-baker is, and to remember your own junior-high-early-high-school days and realize that you were a very dull person then because you never talked about hair and boys and clothes and boys at thirteen, you only talked about books and books and books and books . . . .

Step Fourteen: About an hour and a half later you remember the poor chilling pie crust and pull it out.

Step Fifteen: You realize that you have no rolling pin and your fellow pie-baker creatively suggests using an unused pickle jar.

Step Sixteen: Your crust is wacky-weird and you and fellow pie-baker call to your roommate and other friend for assistance.

Step Seventeen: You realize that you didn't mix enough pie crust, and that you don't have enough ingredients for another batch.

Step Eighteen: You and fellow pie-baker make your third pilgramage to Food Lion, singing: "Summertiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime, and the livin' is eeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaasy . . . ." in interesting harmony as you go, and this time you remember to pick up ice cream.

Step Nineteen: You return to find that Charity is an Angel of Light and Mercy and has saved your wacky-weird pie crust from utter destruction.

Step Twenty: You begin to mix the pie filling.

Step Twenty-One: You realize that you're missing another key ingredient.

Step Twenty-Two: Charity proves herself an Angel of Light and Mercy again by going on the fourth Food Lion pilgrimage for you to pick up the vital ingredient.

Step Twenty-Three: You and fellow pie-baker, while waiting for the vital missing ingredient, get distracted with singing more Broadway tunes, and looking through your extensive library and your portfolio. You pull out and loan half of your extensive library to your fellow pie-baker who is also a bookworm.

Step Twenty-Four: Even though you now have the final key ingredient, you and fellow pie-baker continue looking at books, singing and talking about everything because after all, the flavors all need time to meld, don't they?

Step Twenty-Five: You and fellow pie-baker finally remember your poor pie and return to it. You experiment with lattice pie tops while fellow pie-baker shows you pictures of her family and friends and tells you amusing anecdotes about both, particularly about her brothers.

Step Twenty-Six: You finally slip the pie into the oven.

Step Twenty-Seven: Fellow pie-baker's mother calls wondering where in the world her only daughter is and how the pie baking is coming. You confess that the pie is only just now in the oven, and it's already nearly eight o'clock in the evening, and that you probably won't have her home for another hour or so, and the mother is very sweet and gracious and tells you not to worry whatsoever, so you don't.

Step Twenty-Eight: You and fellow-pie baker clean up the kitchen while singing at the tops of your lungs and bursting into random fits of giggles over anything-and-everything-and-nothing-in-particular . . . .

And finally:

SUCCESS!

Over six hours later, we had one absolutely delectable pie to our credit!

Yeah, so the recipe said it would take a grand total of twenty minutes prep time . . . but a lot of love and time and attention went into this masterpiece . . . and it tasted fantastic. So no complaints, thank you very much!

Here are some more pictures of the day's adventures:

This one was somewhere between steps twenty-four and twenty-six.

 Yes, we have flour on our faces. But it is impossible to bake properly without some form of camouflage, I tell you, otherwise "they" might see you . . . whoever "they" are . . . . .

 And Charity made us a marvelous pasta and chicken dish for dinner. I made the remarkably foolish mistake of referring to the pasta as "noodles" . . . .

Fellow Pie-Baker (who is very Italian): "Those are not noodles! That is pasta!"

I humbly bowed my head and begged forgiveness, swearing never to make such a dreadful mistake ever again.

Needless to say, I absolutely love my fellow pie-baker, the Girl Twin I mentioned in past posts. I think I want to keep her. But hopefully she'll be able to come back on Wednesday for more adventures! You'd never believe the girl is thirteen, she's so confident and so sweet. Honestly, I don't think I've met someone before who takes such delight in absolutely everything and everyone beautiful and lovely and fun, and she sees beauty and loveliness and fun in everything and everyone she comes across. The delight is contagious, and she is a pleasure to be around. We both agreed to being hopeless romanticals, which is much stronger than simple boring old romantics . . . .

Still, I was a good girl, and got her home to her family before ten . . . and we listened to more Broadway songs turned up FULL BLAST on the radio as we went. I don't think my ears will ever be the same . . . but it was great!

Still, as wonderful as the day was, it ended on a rather sour note.

Did you know that sometimes it's just as frustrating to be told that you're "too valuable" and that someone you care for couldn't possibly "value you properly," as it is to be told that you're not valuable enough?

Well, maybe not as frustrating, but almost.

Still, being complimented with a phrase like, "You're so unique and individual and independent and special," can be just as frustrating as a phrase like, "You're so weird," depending on the context in which it is said. Both phrases leave you feeling . . . isolated.

But God is good, and He is teaching more than I ever thought I needed to learn, things that I would never have learned without Him and His mercy. As St. Augustine says, there is no true joy or true beauty without God, and the lessons He has to teach me are all part of the joy He brings to my life . . . .

Edit:

I just heard some woman behind me saying in a strong Italian accent, "There are three types of people. There are not so intelligent people who don't like to use their brains. There are intelligent people who do like to use their brains. Then there are Italians. They are not particularly intelligent, but they like to use their brains. They are  . . . how do you say it? Sly."

That made me giggle . . . .