Fideo (pronounced Fee-day-o)

So, I really love fideo. It's a Mexican pasta dish my maternal great-grandmother,Abuelita, would make for us. None of us have figured out her exact recipe and sadly she never wrote it down. It wasn't a secret, it just didn't occur to anyone to write it down before she passed away at the age of 94.

I think I may have gotten pretty close to the flavor I remember but of course it will never be quite the same even if I had the recipe. I've noticed throughout my life that everyone tends to make things slightly different, even if using the exact same recipe and ingredients.

Once I began venturing out into the eating world, I was thoroughly surprised by how few people not only hadn't tasted Fideo but also hadn't even heard of it. I was pleasantly surprised to discover a few years ago that Cafe Rio put it on their menus (Fridays only.) It was shockingly similar in flavor to Abue's. The main difference in taste was they added lime juice which was a pleasant addition.

Here's how I make it:

1 package of coiled vermicelli

1 small can of tomato sauce

1 small onion, diced(or half a large)

1 small can diced green chilies

1 tsp granulated garlic (fresh is good too)

Knorr chicken bouillon

water

pepper to taste

oil for frying

Assemble all ingredients

Get oil hot, carefully place coils of vermecelli in hot oil, turn once; should be a light-medium golden color.

Place coils on paper toweled plate to allow to drain excess oil.

Pour oil from pan in a dry, safe place (I use a bowl) to allow to cool before throwing out. Don't pour down sink.

In same pan, with residual oil, caramelize diced onions until desired texture. I like 'em softened.

Add tomato sauce, diced green chilies, garlic, and pepper.

Add enough water to just cover the pasta and one tsp bullion per cup of water. Allow to simmer until pasta is softened. Some people like it a little soupy but I prefer the 'dry' version.

Garnish with a little parmesean and enjoy.

For me, this is a comfort food. It goes well with roast chicken. I really hope you take the time to make this and that it turns out well for you.

Crispy Orange Beef

I have been getting kind of tired of my own cooking lately yet cannot afford to eat out where I would like too, mainly Chinese food places. So I was looking through the fridge, cupboards, and drawers of the kitchen and realized I had all the ingredients needed for this recipe I had found online. The sauce is really salty but once over the noodles and beef it was fine. I wouldn't recommend it for those with high-blood pressure though. I followed the recipe and added 4 drops of DoTerra Wild Orange Essential Oil. I think it really enhanced the orange flavor. Also, I fried the beef in coconut oil rather than other types of frying oil, it's healthier (and tastier). If you have the time and ingredients handy, I highly recommend making this dish. The hardest part was not eating all the crispy beef before everything else was done. Yum!

CRISPY ORANGE BEEF

For Stewed Meat:

1 lb stew beef

flour (for dredging)

cooking oil (to sauté meat)

dash of salt and pepper

To prepare meat:

Season stew meat very lightly with salt and pepper and lightly toss in flour. Shake off excess flour. Coat a shallow pan with cooking oil and gently pan fry stew meat.

Drain meat and set aside.

Sauce:

1 tablespoon cooking oil

1/2 cup teriyaki sauce

1/4 cup soy sauce

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 tablespoon flour

juice of 1 orange

zest of half an orange

1/4 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup granulated sugar

pepper, to taste

To prepare the sauce:

Add cooking oil to sauce pan and gently cook garlic. Add flour to garlic and oil; cook to remove the uncooked flour taste. It will look pasty at first.

Stir in soy sauce and teriyaki sauce, whisking to prevent lumps. Add orange zest, orange juice, pepper, and all sugars. Allow sauce to come to a boil and it will thicken. Cook to desired consistency. Toss stew meat in enough of the sauce just to coat it. Serve over rice.

Class Assignment

We have a very sweet, kind hearted teacher in the Advanced Esthetics class. Periodically she comes up with exercises where we have to go around the room with everyone saying something nice about the person sitting to their left or writing out goals for your life, which don't even have to involve esthetics.

This past Monday, she asked us to write out 10 things we are grateful for in our lives and a reason why we were grateful. This is what I wrote:

Grateful For...

1. Knowing, without doubt, there is a God, that He is our Heavenly Father and that He loves each of us unconditionally. grateful for this knowledge because it strengthens me through difficult times; because I know I'm loved even when I make mistakes, an because it brings me peace.

2. Eyeglasses, because I'm blind without them.

3. My heated blanket because it keeps me warm and helps me sleep more deeply -it also has helped lower our gas and electric bills because I turn on the furnace A LOT less and stop using the room heater.

4. Adoption/my daughter, because without both, I wouldn't be a mother.

5. My loving family (Mom, my brothers and their wives, nieces and nephews, and lots of lovely cousins...including in-laws) because life would be lonely without all of them.

6. My sewing skill/talent, because it's fun and I can always have a way to earn some extra money.

7. My Bernina and all other sewing supplies -see #6 for why.

8. My health, because it allows me to be capable of doing anything.

9. My amazing friends because they uplift, support, and make me laugh.

10. Last but not least, my husband, because he is the wonderful human being I am complete with.

After we wrote out lists. We went around the room and shared. I felt a fullness of love fill my heart to hear everyone. Vocational school has brought more than just book learning into my life. I am gaining knowledge and friendships that will last a lifetime.

The Good Life

Financially things aren't so great but the rest of my life is pretty fantastic and I haven't shared that fact much. I have a loving supportive husband who treats me so tenderly. I have a beautiful, incredibly intelligent and talented daughter. A solid/warm home, yummy food available to make and eat. I live in America. Plenty of seasonal clothing and good comfy shoes. Lots of family near and far and great friends who love and support me. Eyeglasses to see are a big bonus. The list goes on, yet what I am most grateful for is knowing I have a loving Heavenly Father cheering me on and guiding me towards goodness. I may not understand all He does or allows to happen but I know He loves me no matter what. That knowledge brings an indescribable peace into my heart and I feel I have been taking all this for granted by not acknowledging all this and complaining too much.

Being a Mature Adult

In my opinion, a mature adult:

-open to new ideas

-not prejudiced against race, lifestyles, religions, etc.

-living as an example of their beliefs

-willing to agree to disagree

-thinks revenge is unnecessary

-keeps negative comments to self

-yet can be honest in a positive or kind way

-compassionate

-shows appreciation for the service given to them

-humble enough to accept help

-able to give without expecting anything in return

-capable of saying no when needed

-able to say yes when appropriate

-keeps all obligations agreed to or makes arrangements as needed to change them

-accountable for their actions; does not blame others for the poor life choices they have made

-defends those who cannot for themselves (i.e.children, disabled, shy, emotionally distressed etc)
-doesn't complain but looks for solutions
-accepts change as a reliable constant

-speaks up for themselves without arguing

-stands up for their beliefs/standards etc in a peaceful manner

-not passive-aggressive

-recognizes their own faults and is willing to work on improving themselves

-accepts and loves themselves in a humble way and not afraid to show their self-acceptance

-willing to laugh at themselves; not take self too seriously

-has a great work ethic

-willing to go the extra mile, offer help

-does service without needing/desiring recognition

-gives a kind word to all they know or meet

-refrains from beginning or spreading gossip

-refrains from foul language

-may feel hurt but lets go of negative comments others have made

-open to love and gives love and friendship

-knows that modesty is a choice not everyone is taught and looks past the clothing of others to get to know the person

-willing to let go of a negative first impression to find the good in others

-may be vulnerable

-forgives

-willing to mentor those who need/want someone to learn from and not be self righteous about it

-humble and willing to apologize

-makes mistakes, does all can to fix them or learn from them and moves on
-is humble enough to acknowledge a Higher Power exists.

I still aspire to be all these things. Everyone has all these potentials within and may have mastered some, many or all of these things. There has only been one perfect human on this earth. He lived more than two thousand years ago. He is my example. I love our Savior, Jesus Christ. I am sorry to anyone I may offend with my less than perfect behavior. I offer my gratitude to all those who call me friend.

Financial Stress

So, I've been very worried about finances lately but it really hit me how broke we are today. I had myself an actual crying meltdown. Luckily my husband had just come home from school and took over with the kids so I could sob in private. Why is it after a good long cry I feel exhausted. Seriously, I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open. There were lots of other little things getting to me but when I saw the bank balance today, I lost it. I know we are not the only struggling family but it's still a huge problem for us.

I run a licensed daycare in my home. For the most part we have had ups and downs with kids coming and going but this has been the toughest financial dry spell we've had. Currently there are 3 kids coming full time but we need 5 to stay afloat (I'm licensed to watch 8). Jason goes to school full time and works nights part time. I have the daycare and go to school in the evenings. I also sell Avon, DoTerra, and sew for a local boutique. My Avon and DoTerra sales are virtually nil and the sewing isn't steady. I am at a loss as to what else to do with the little free time I have left in a week. My husband suggested he quit school to go back to working full time. That was sweet but he is so close to finishing college, just a year and a half left. I have not gone through supporting our family this long while he's at school only to have him quit so near the end. I told him I would leave him if he did that...and I meant it.

I started going to Marinello's School of Beauty this past May. I will be finished by the end of next summer. At the moment that seems so far away. I am studying to be an Esthetician. I prayed a lot about going back to school and I felt spiritually shoved in this direction of education. I am loving school and all that I am learning. For me it has been a delight. I am hoping it will lead to a steady income once I have graduated.

In the mean time, what now? I am going to distribute more flyers in local stores and even branch out to schools and may even go door to door.

All I ask for in the way of help are your prayers.

An Uplifting Story

This was sent to me in an email. I couldn't help but get teary and feel uplifted while reading this story:

This is an excerpt from A Place of Knowing by Emma Lou Thayne

Many years into my adulthood, when asked by a Jewish poet friend why I stay in my Mormonism, I explained it with a story, the details recounted by my mother. It is my mother’s story transposed into an allegory about my believing.
When I was a little girl, my father took me to hear Helen Keller in the Tabernacle. I must have been about eight or nine and I’d read about Helen Keller in school, and my mother had told me her story.
I remember sitting in the balcony at the back of that huge domed building that was supposed to have the best acoustics in the world. Helen—everybody called her that—walked in from behind a curtain under the choir seats with her teacher, Annie Sullivan. Helen spoke at the pulpit—without a microphone—but we could hear perfectly, her guttural, slow, heavily pronounced speech. She spoke about her life and her beliefs. Her eyes were closed and when it came time for questions from the audience, she put her fingers on her teacher’s lips and then repeated for us what the question had been. She answered
questions about being deaf and blind and learning to read and to type and, of course, to talk. Hearing that voice making words was like hearing words for the first time, as if language had only come into being—into my being at least—that moment.
Someone asked her, “Do you feel colors?”
I’ll never forget her answer, the exact sound of it—“Some-times
. .. . I feel . . . blue.” Her voice went up slightly at the end, which
meant she was smiling. The audience didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
After quite a lot of questions, she said, “I would . . .. like to ask . . . a fa-vor of you.” Of course, the audience was all alert. “Is your Mormon prophet here?” she asked. There was a flurry of getting up from the front row, and President Grant walked up the stairs to the stand. She reached out her hand and he took it. All I could think was, “Oh, I wish I were taking pictures of that.”
“I . . . would like . . . ,” she said, “to hear your organ . . . play .. . your fa-mous song—about your pio-neers. I . . . would like . . . to re-mem-ber hear-ing it here.” All the time she was speaking she was holding his hand he had given her to shake. I liked them together, very much.
I remember thinking, “I am only a little girl (probably others know) but how in the world will she hear the organ?” But she turned toward President Grant and he motioned to Alexander Schreiner, the Tabernacle organist who was sitting near the loft. At the same time, President Grant led her up a few steps to the back of the enormous organ—with its five manuals and eight thousand pipes. We were all spellbound. He placed her hand on the grained oak of the console, and she stood all alone facing us in her long, black velvet dress with her right arm extended, leaning slightly forward and touching the organ, with her head bowed.
Brother Schreiner played “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” each verse a different arrangement, the organ pealing and throbbing—the bass pedals like foghorns—as only he could make happen. Helen Keller stood there—hearing through her hand and sobbing.
Probably a lot more than just me—probably lots of us in the audience were mouthing the words to ourselves—
“Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. / Our God will never us forsake; / And soon we’ll have this tale to tell— / All is well! / All is well!” I could see my great-grandparents, converts from England, Wales, France, and Denmark, in that circle of their covered wagons, singing over their fires in the cold nights crossing the plains. Three of them had babies die; my great-grandmother was buried in Wyoming.
“And should we die before our journey’s through, / Happy day! / All is well! / We then are free from toil and sorrow, too; / With the just we shall dwell! / But
if our lives are spared again / To see the Saints their rest obtain, / Oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell— / All is well! / All is well!”
So then—that tabernacle, that singing, my ancestors welling in me, my father beside me, that magnificent woman, all combined with the organ and the man who played it and the man who had led her to it—whatever passed between the organ and her passed on to me.
I believed. I believed it all—the seeing without seeing, the hearing without hearing, the going by feel toward something holy, something that could make her cry, something that could move me, alter me, something as unexplainable as a vision or a mystic connection, something entering the pulse of a little girl, something that no matter what would never go away. What it had to do with Joseph Smith or his vision or his gospel I never would really understand—all I know to this day is that I believe.

Emma Lou Thayne wrote Hymn # 129, Where Can I Turn for Peace ...