Recipe: Candied Grapefruit Peels

So, a little while back, I was eating a grapefruit for breakfast, because I'm healthy like that...
Suddenly, I thought to myself that I should candy the peels.  I have no idea why this idea came to me, but it did, and it was stuck once it got into my head.
So, of course I googled "Candied Grapefruit Peels" and came up with three legitimate looking recipes.  I combined those, and came up with this:

Basically all you need is plenty of fresh cold water, and 3/4 c of sugar for each grapefruit you're using.

All the recipes I read gave very specific guidelines for how to peel the grapefruit to make your peels uniform in size and shape, but since my main goal in peeling a grapefruit is to keep it edible, I just peeled it like I normally do, and sliced the peels up into approximately 1/2 inch wide strips.  I thought they were perfectly presentable.  As long as they're fairly close to bite-size, you should be good



Place all of your grapefruit peels in a saucepan with enough cold water to cover them by about an inch, and bring it to a rolling boil.



Drain all the water off.  It is very important that you get rid of all the water, because it absorbs a lot of the bitterness from the peels.



Repeat this process three more times.  You should have boiled and drained the peels four times by this point, and they will look something like this:



Finally put them back in your pan, with half a cup of sugar and, again, enough water to cover them by about an inch.  This time, simmer for about 2 hours.  After the simmering, your syrup will be thick, about the consistency of the syrup you find in canned fruits.  Let the peels cool in the syrup.*

If, for some reason, you're stopped in the middle of the process, like I was when I was taking these pictures, you can store your peels in an air-tight container with that syrup for up to 2 or 3 weeks.

When you're ready to serve your grapefruit peels, whether right after cooking, or after storing for a few days, take them out of the syrup (if you hate having sticky hands as much as I do, you can use a fork for this step) and let them dry for a few hours on a wire rack with a cookie sheet under it to catch the syrup that will drip off.

Make sure you put them on the rack peel side up, since the pith will hold a lot of syrup, which won't drain off if you leave it facing up - I didn't learn this from experience or anything...

After they've drained for a few hours, put about a 1/4 c of sugar in a soup bowl and roll the peels around in it about 4 or 5 at a time.

You can store them in an air-tight container for about a week, but if you're anything like me, they certainly won't last that long!  Eating these things is kinda like eating grapes or potato chips - eating one just makes you want another.
In the interest of full disclosure, they're not necessarily sweet like candy.  they do still taste like grapefruit, but kinda like when you eat grapefruit with sugar sprinkled on top.

The good news?  This is a treat that you'll most likely enjoy, but your kids most likely won't, so no guilt about not sharing.

*I think I made a mistake the first time I made these, and let them simmer too high.  The syrup boiled completely away before 2 hours was up, so I didn't really need to drain them much, and they were actually easier to coat in sugar, and much less messy that way...

How's the No-Sugar thing going, you ask?

Well, its up and down.

Actually, it's definitely not a no-sugar thing anymore.
It's more a general-life-adjustment-dragged-out-over-a-much-longer-time-than-just-a-year.

I learned a few very valuable lessons from the earlier part of this year.  That no-shopping resolution in 2013?  I had no idea at the time, or even until half-way through this year, that it really wasn't me keeping that resolution.  That was the Spirit of the Lord inside of me, keeping me from spending money I would need so desperately at the end of that year, when I took the most giant, terrifying fall of faith (because it wasn't anything near as elegant or smooth as a leap).

It really was no surprise to me when I learned that I was just going to continue to fail at this self-control thing I thought I had mastered.  I should have known myself better than that.

For a while I sat in a corner and pouted because I was embarrassed by this huge proclamation I'd made to the world that I was going to be this awesome, totally put-together girl, who was going to do exactly what she said she would, because she was strong enough.

After pouting for a while, though, I realized that it's okay to fail, and we all go around proclaiming that we're cooler, stronger, wiser, more in control than we actually are.  The plain truth is that we aren't strong enough alone.  The Lord had a reason to help me with my 2013 resolution.  My 2014 resolution came from a deep-seated place of pride in my heart, and needed to be broken for so, so many reasons.

I made a decision when I started this blog, that I was never going to delete anything I wrote on it, no matter how much I may hate returning to those things.  So, as much as I hate to return to that incredibly prideful post from this January, it's staying, simply to remind me of what I've learned.

I did make a valiant effort to keep that resolution for the first few months, and, who knows?  I may eventually be able to transition to a life-style without processed sugar.  I would be so happy to do that one of these days, but I'm putting no prideful, legalistic time-limits on it this time around.

In fact, I'm slowly collecting recipes I come across that will be helpful when that time does arrive, because I do intend to do it one of these days.  Now is not that time, though.

An interesting side-effect has arisen from that failed resolution, though.  I've established a few significant, chemical-free habits, like my new hair and face washing routines.  I've also experimented with Oil Pulling, and been pleasantly surprised.  I still haven't fully converted to that from brushing my teeth, but I am so close to it.

I've also discovered that I like Agave nectar in my coffee better than sugar.  Definitely a surprise, but certainly a pleasant one.  So, I guess it wasn't completely a bust?

How Do I Look?

Right now, I'm wearing really mis-matched work-out clothes (complete with blue and orange argyle socks, and two different shades of lime green).  I feel gross and sweaty.  I also feel great, because I just finished a good workout.
You won't see me post a picture of myself in this state anywhere on social media.

This weekend, on Saturday, I was wearing a fantastic dress my mom made for herself shortly after she married my Dad.  I had the perfect jewelry to complement it.  I felt like a million bucks, as they say.
You didn't see me post a picture of myself in that state anywhere on social media either.

While I do post a lot, and I mean a LOT, of pictures of the world around me, I post "selfies" very rarely.  In fact, I used to joke about posting an "annual selfie."
I also rarely post pictures of myself in general - "group selfies," so to speak.

A friend recently shared this link on Facebook, and it resonated with me.

I don't know anything about this girl, or if I would agree with anything else she's ever said, but my heart responded to "I guess this is human nature to give feedback on our appearances..." and "Easiest way to [cater to the Facebook algorithm]?  Share pictures of my face, body and things based on my appearance."

I immediately knew she was right.  Despite the infrequency of selfies I post, I have noticed that I get considerably more likes on them than almost anything else I post.  This alone has been disturbing to me, so I decided to do a little research on my own Facebook profile:

Since March, the average amount of likes on any picture that I've posted, which features my face, body, and/or things based on my appearance is 19.
The average amount of likes on any other picture I've posted is 10.

There is something wrong with this.

I've never been sure how to put my thoughts on selfies into words, but this experience helped me to process through some of them at least.

I haven't struggled much at all with insecurity about my appearance, and I am so so so thankful for that.
I am just as affected by "likes" on my pictures as is the next person.  I'm not proud of that.
I find myself obsessively checking to see if anyone has liked the latest thing I posted, and I also find myself obsessively making every picture of anything "perfect" so as to appeal to the most people.

Let's just be honest, maybe there are a few people in the world who don't make their selfies "perfect" before posting them, but in reality, most of those nonchalant look-at-me-all-sweaty-and-smiling-after-a-great-workout pictures were taken from something like 12 slightly different angles and sent through at least 5 different filters before they were posted.  And the same goes for the perfectly posed look-at-me-all-gussied-up-and-celebrating-my-friend's-birthday pictures.

You guys!  If I analyzed pictures of myself as much as I analyze my other pictures, or even as much as other people presumably analyze their selfies, I'd go insane, and probably start having all those insecurities I just established that I am grateful to live without.

No thanks. I'd prefer not to open Pandora's Box.

It is indeed human nature to give feedback on our appearances, and I think (hope?) maybe a lot of the likes on selfies are simply an acknowledgement of bravery, because it is seriously brave to post a close-up picture of yourself on the internet for everyone to see, regardless of how many re-takes you took.

But we are so so so much more than just what we look like, and I personally kinda like who I actually am outside of my appearance.  I also kinda hate the idea of people deriving their worth from how much other people like the way they look.  I try to be careful about what I "like" from people, and what I complement them on in real life.  Yeah, I tell people when they look beautiful, or that I like their clothes, but I try to also tell them how beautiful their heart is, or how much I love the way they smile at strangers on the street.

Personally, I don't want to be known for how I look, but for how I look at the world around me.

Something A Little Bit Different

So, lately, I've been wearing my hair like this.  And a goodly number of people are asking me how in the world I do it.  I always tell folks that it's super simple.

It really is!

But it is kind of hard to explain without actually doing the entire process in front of you, sooooo, I made a video.

Enjoy.

Three things:

1. At 0:28, I sound like this perfect little homemaker that just, you know, throws together a dress here and a headband there - no big deal.  Actually, no.  I am not one of those people.  Someday, I hope to be, but, as of today, I have one home-made dress and one home-made headband to my name.
2. At 2:43 and 3:59, I did, in fact, continue to make one or two more loops, but I was just boring and quiet, so I cut those sections out for the final edit.
3. Despite all appearances to the contrary, I am wearing shorts in the second section.  I promise.

Let me know what you think!  Do you want to see more videos around here?  Is it absolutely horrible and painful to sit through?  Did it help you learn something new?  Were you totally confuzzled by the end?  I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth...

A Tale of Three Tires

I have never been the kind of girl who is particularly comfortable with car maintenance, so, from the time that I knew my car needed new tires, it was at least a month, if not two months, as well as at least 4 phone calls to my dad, before I got it into the tire shop.

I'm sort of embarrassed to admit this, but I also pulled into the parking lot and sat in my car for about ten minutes, observing my surroundings, then left, at least twice before deciding to brave it.

I'm sure part if this has to do with the fact that I had really just gotten comfortable with my other mechanics before I decided to up and move, and now, here I was at a new place, and feeling very small and gullible, and insignificant.

However, I did finally make it into the tire shop one lovely friday.  I came in very confident, asked all the right questions, had a super-helpful-customer-service-guy assist me, and got my car in to replace the rear tires.

The paper-work at the end of my visit was a breeze, and I left feeling totally confident and much better about vehicle maintenance in the future.

Then, on the following Tuesday, I got into my car, and it gave me a low pressure warning for one of my tires.  I got out, checked on them, and found the culprit - the right rear tire - it was at 20 psi, while my tires were all supposed to be at 35 psi.  I assumed that the folks at the tire shop would have aired up the tires to the proper pressure when they first installed them, so there could be no reason the pressure in this one would be this low already, except that there was a problem of some sort.

Basking in my new-found confidence, I immediately called the tire shop, and explained the situation (including the fact that I had just purchased the tires) to the guy who answered the phone.  he said something along the lines of "No.  There shouldn't be any problems.  You can just take it anywhere and air up the tires, then keep an eye on them; but if you really want to, I guess you can come in and we'll air it up for you."

That was not exactly the answer I was looking for...

So, of course, I called my dad and asked him what he thought I should do.  I also mentioned a squeaky sound I'd been hearing, and he recommended I take it in and have them look at the tires and the belt.

So, of course, that's just what I did...

I walked in, and, when it was my turn (they were pretty busy) I began to explain my situation to the-man-at-the-counter.  He literally interrupted me mid-sentence and said "Are you the one that called earlier?" COMPLETE WITH AN EYE ROLL.

I maintained composure and said "Yes" in my sweetest voice, adding that there was also a squeaky belt I would love for them to look at if they had the time.

He said "Yeah, sure, just pull your car around to the back of that bay right there." Then turned to the next person in line and began talking to them.

That was that.  I was not very appreciative of his idea of customer service, and wished very much for super-helpful-customer-service-guy to come to my rescue.

There was nothing for me to do but pull my car around to where he had indicated, so I did, and waited, since I had received no further instructions.  After about 5 minutes of waiting, and being approached by absolutely no one, I went back into the tire shop, and waited in line for my turn.

When I got up to the counter, I said "Hi.  I pulled my car up, and didn't know what to do next."
He interrupted me again with "Just wait a minute," and again turned to the next customer in line.

At this point, I was beginning to feel very much not valued in this place, but I stepped to the side, and waited patiently.

A moment later, a man poked his head in the door and asked the-man-at-the-counter if he could help out in any way.  The-man-at-the-counter (looking very relieved) said "Yes!  Just go check the pressure in her tires over there," waving his hand in the general direction of my car.  The other man headed out the door, and I began to add that there was a squeaky belt situation, but he was already beyond ear-shot.  The-man-at-the-counter added, in a normal tone (without bothering to open, or even turn toward the door through which the other man was already completely gone) "Oh yeah, and check on her belt."  He completed this incredibly unhelpful addendum with a shake of his head, as if to indicate that I was being utterly ridiculous and demanding...

At this point, I may or may not have just stormed out of the door to take matters into my own hands, since the-man-at-the-counter was apparently not at all interested in actually being helpful to his customers.

I was so upset, I literally had to stop outside the door to compose myself before going around to the bay.

Fortunately the man who had offered to help was much more kind and helpful.  He even checked all of my tires to make sure they were at a uniform pressure, and was happy to look at the belt when I told him about it.

Of course, the belt didn't make a noise when I turned the car on for him, and fortunately it hasn't made a sound since.

The tire, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

The real reason I had finally decided to get the new tires was because I was about to do a whole lot of driving: the following weekend, I home based at Camp Tejas (staying in a beautiful, newly re-modeled motel room, by the way), and travelled to Austin for a wedding on Friday, then to San Antonio for a graduation on Saturday.

Well, Friday was lovely, and Saturday was lovely, until we were leaving the graduation.  No sooner had I gotten settled into the far left lane of traffic on the San Antonio loop, than I suddenly saw the truck in the lane on my right run over something and send it toward my car.  I had no time to react, and before I knew it, I definitely had a flat on my right rear tire.

I'm truly thankful for three things:

1. It wasn't a blow-out
2. I was able to maintain my composure as I pulled across all three lanes of traffic, into the shoulder, and off onto a road which looked little-used
3. Sarah's boyfriend was in the car, and was able to help us with changing the tire

Also, Baby Sister (who's learning to drive) and another friend of hers who is also learning to drive were in the car, so we got to have a little tire-changing lesson, which was fun, apparently...

As Sarah's boyfriend was putting on the spare, Sarah and I inspected the damage.

There was a good-sized gash in the side-wall, where, presumably whatever-it-was had just hit the tire.  And, wouldn't you know, there was also a screw imbedded in the tread of that tire.  As you may recall, this was the tire that was lower than all my other new tires, and which the tire shop so begrudgingly aired up for me, without inspecting it at all...

Once we were set with the spare, which was in desperate need of some air, we hobbled to the nearest gas station for air, and onward to the nearest branch of my tire store, which was actually something like the swankier, higher-end version, owned by the same corporation.

At this point, I was (understandably?) more than a little upset, and stormed into the store with slightly less confidence than last time, and much more need to feel vindicated.

I was almost immediately greeted kindly by a man behind a counter.  Before he even greeted me, though, I noticed three things:

1. This store smelled nice
2. People smiled here
3. There was prominent signage indicating everything you could need while you were waiting for your car

I began explaining our situation to the kind man behind the counter, perhaps too eagerly, as he kept calmly asking me to wait until his computer could catch up with the information I was giving him.

The tire was, unfortunately, clearly beyond repair, and was definitely going to have to be replaced.  The first thing he said to me when we realized this was, "It appears that you did not purchase a warranty on this tire..."

You guys.  My jaw probably hit the floor, and this is why:

Back when I was originally purchasing the tires, during the "breezy" paper-work process at the end, I had paused to question a section where the super-helpful-customer-service-guy asked for my initials.  I don't remember what it said, but I distinctly remember asking him something along the lines of "This says something about discussing a warranty with you, and I don't remember doing that..." and him responding with something like "Oh, that isn't really related to your purchase today."

Turns out, I had initialed a spot that said that I had been given paper-work regarding a warranty, and made an informed decision not to purchase it, when really, none of that had happened, and I certainly would have purchased that warranty if given the chance.

That warranty being an eleven dollar purchase that meant they would cover the entire cost of a new tire if mine was damaged as a result of road hazards.

Yes.  You read that right.  No wonder they weren't particularly interested in selling it to me.  You can imagine my thoughts at this moment were not particularly kind toward previously-considered-super-helpful-customer-service-guy.

Well, the current, kind man behind the counter gave me one look, without actually hearing any of that story, and said he would cover the cost of a new tire for me, just because.

I'd like to think this was because I looked like a customer-demanding-vindication-for-wrong-doing, but Sarah's boyfriend said it was because the kind man behind the counter had a crush on me...

Either way, I felt a little bit better about my life, and made sure I got a warranty on my new right rear tire.

And friends, the saga continues...

The first chance I got after coming back into town, I went to my tire store to demand nicely ask that they warranty my tires as atonement for their past wrong-doing since there had been some sort of glitch in the process of informing me about the warranty at the time of my original purchase.

I hope you guys believe me that I really was on my best behavior in the tire shop, regardless of how really indignant I was on the inside.  I'm a Southern girl.  We don't lose our cool in public...

Anyway, I went in, and who should be inside but previously-considered-super-helpful-customer-service-guy and the-man-at-the-counter?  Yes.  They were both right there.

The-man-at-the-counter was apparently busy, so previously-considered-super-helpful-customer-service-guy, who seemed to not remember me, asked how he could help.  I began to tell the nicest version of my story that was possible while not excluding any important details (including the screw in the tire), ending with the request to go ahead and have a warranty for the tire, which I had already driven around for a week and a half or so.

At about the point in my story where I came back with low pressure in one of my tires, the-man-behind-the-counter began edging toward us, evidently remembering me.

Next thing I know, previously-considered-super-helpful-customer-service-guy turns to the-man-behind-the-counter and asks if it's possible to do what I'm asking.  And before previously-considered-super-helpful-customer-service-guy is even done with his question, the-man-behind-the-counter says "Of course we will.  I am so sorry that happened, ma'am."

You guys.  The-man-behind-the-counter was the manager of this store.  The MANAGER!

I'm telling you, it was all I could do to keep a straight face.

I mean, what?

He promptly took over the conversation and was SO polite and helpful, but, by this point, I was totally over everything about this store.  Of course, I was polite in return, and gave positive one-word-answers to his attempted small-talk instead of glaring daggers, but, really, I was truly done.

When he was almost done processing the warranty, he started telling me excitedly that they were soon upgrading to a store like the one I went to in San Antonio, and by the time I needed my next tires, the upgrade would be finished.

Guys, I'm super ashamed of this, but my first thought was "Well, I hope they'll upgrade the management too!"

Of course, being a sweet, Southern girl, I gave him two true words - "That's wonderful!"

Well, if the upgrade is indeed done by then, maybe I'll give them a second chance...

She Shares Truth: Commissioned Moments

I love that She Reads Truth has asked us to talk about "Commissioned Moments" (rather than big mission trips or other such things) based on the verses in Matthew 28:16-20, which are often called The Great Commission.



There was a time when I was in college, when I suddenly noticed that the Christians I'd been around talked almost exclusively about The Great Commission as if it meant to go away from where you were to spread the gospel.  Suddenly, after encountering teenagers here in the US who had never even heard the name of Jesus, I realized it is absolutely not just about going elsewhere.  It's also about staying right here (we are part of "all nations") and listening for that still, small voice that says "Speak now, here, my child."



During my last two years of college, I was taking full-time classes, and working two part-time jobs, which added up to almost full-time hours - we're talking full schedule from 8am-8pm every day.  I was busy.  It was not necessarily easy or fun, but I did it, and mostly successfully with a smile on my face.  I loved my major and both of my jobs.

One afternoon, a girl from my major, with whom I had taken multiple classes, walked up to my desk at work and said something along the lines of "Esther, I've decided that I need to get a job, because you are always so happy, and I'm just sure it's because you have this job."

Would you believe, friends, that I just looked at her and said "I think that's a great idea!"
My job, after all, was to connect students who wanted jobs with employers who wanted to hire them...

I didn't even say anything about the true source of joy in my life - Christ and his Helper within me.

When she left my office, I was devastated.  I knew I had missed out on a fantastically clear calling from the Lord.



To a certain extent, I still carry regret from that experience, but ever since that day, I have tried to live more with an open ear and eye on what the Lord would have me do.

I have tried to bring him into every conversation I have.

"Tried," of course, is the operative word here.  I fail more times than I succeed, but I am continually encouraged by the multiple scriptures which tell me that God is more powerful than I, and He will accomplish His purposes, whether or not I listen to every little command He gives.



But oh, the pay-off when I do listen.  He is a wonderfully giving and loving Father through our obedience, and even our disobedience.

Small Town Saturday: Picnic Edition

My family and I recently decided to try out a new picnic spot.  We headed out to Lake Naconiche, which has been in the works for as long as I can remember.  It is now a thriving fishing destination, but picnicking?  Not so much.



When we discovered that was not going to work out, we headed up to the ever-reliable arboretum at the University.  This is a trusty spot we've frequented for many years, which boasts plenty of seating spots and spring blooms.  In fact, the arboretum is in bloom practically all year round, but I'm particularly partial to it in the Spring.

The arboretum is generously populated with pines to give shade to the plants that live there, and the humans who visit.  This makes me quite happy.

One of my favorite things about East Texas is the gorgeous forest full of Pines.



One of my least favorite things about East Texas is the gorgeous forests full of Pines.

Yep.  You read that right.  I love 'em and I hate 'em.  They are by far one of the most beautiful species of tree I have ever come across, but I am so so so allergic to the pollen, and I'm just miserable for most of the Spring time as a result.  I clearly haven't tried too hard to escape the misery, though...

Nacogdoches is pretty proud of it's plant life, and I can't say that I blame it.  Azaleas are the undisputed favorite, and I can say that I blame that.  Wait, it doesn't work very well to turn that phrase around like that, but you know what I mean.

Azaleas have just never been my personal favorite flower, though they probably should be since they're apparently impossible to kill, and I pretty much have the opposite of a green thumb...

I just really like more delicate, less in-your-face plants.  Take. for example, the plant commonly called the "Wild Azalea" around here.



I may be wrong, but I don't think it's actually related to what we call an azalea at all.  Sort of like how we call a "Tulip Tree" by that name, even though it's not related to a Tulip at all.  Somebody *ahem* maybe an Abt? *ahem* correct me if I'm wrong, please.

The Wild Azalea is really a diminutive tree with tons of blossoms in little circular sprays all over it.  They are just lovely plants, and come in a great array of colors.  Someday I'd like to have them all over my backyard.

Well, let's get back to the subject at hand - the Arboretum.  Our arboretum has an entire section called the Azalea Garden which really has much more than just Azaleas, and is truly wonderful all throughout the year, but imagine my joy when I discovered that the section across the street from the Azalea Garden is populated by wild azaleas, and other such woodland plants that suit my fancy much better than the big, showy ones of the Azalea Garden.



I took the opportunity to practice with Manual focus on my camera, and am feeling a little better about my photography skills again.  Every photo on this post is completely unedited, and I am semi-happy with all of them.

Also?  If you're lucky enough, upon arriving at the Arboretum, you may get to park next to one of these...


Probably the closest I'll ever get to one.

Any suggestions for Small-Town Saturday?  Anything locals or non-locals are interested in seeing featured here?  I welcome your input.