Superman to the Rescue!

This weekend, during my precious Texas/OU Game (Hook 'em, Horns!), I ventured out to Six Flags with (some of) the cheerleaders from my school. Not what I really wanted to be doing that day, but it was enjoyable regardless.

Now, even though we work together and co-chaperoned the trip last year, the girls voted that Mr. V could not attend. One cheerleader (a true sweetheart) told Mr. V he could go, but, alas, Mr. V had a different day in mind.

I have to be honest with you, gentle reader (anyone catch the allusion???), the V's have not kept up with our housekeeping lately. We've been so busy with the business of school, the chaos of our lives has been reflected in our home.

Whilst at Six Flags, waiting in line for rides, preparing to be spooked in haunted houses, Mr. V had been sending me text messages to let me know how much he missed me and teasing me with "I have a surprise for you" messages.

When the coaches finally caught up with all of the girls at dinner, I asked them what it could be. They came up with all sorts of ridiculous things (bless their little Freshmen hearts, they're so cute!) and all of a sudden, I had a new message. A message lacking a certain confidence. It said "You're going to like this surprise very much. . . I think." I joked with the girls that maybe he had cleaned our apartment.

When I got home, I found out that HE HAD cleaned our apartment!!!  He whisked me away to see all of the work he'd done while I was gone. And WOW! He did a fantastic job! The first thing I noticed was the carpet was vaccuumed. No more little fuzzies!

Then I saw the clutter from the floor (mythology projects. . . blech) had been cleared, the table looked cleaner, and the bathrooms were (nearly) spotless!

It looks fantastic over here, I kid you not. So excited are we that we're going to have people over. Real people. Finally!

Some girls might dream of diamonds and pearls, but I'm happy with a clean apartment. And the flowers (in our wedding colors!) that were waiting for me on the bar.  Yippee!!!

Two in One Night - Weird, but for a DELICIOUS reason

One evening, in the land of the Vs, an attempt at recreating Chili's scrumptious Skillet Queso was made. And friends, the Vs were NOT disappointed.

Now, I will not share my pumpkin bread recipe (family secret, no joke, don't ask) BUT since I found this gem on the world wide web, I would feel completely selfish if I didn't post it right here on my fledgling blog. So without further adieu, I give you homemade skillet queso (in a crockpot):

Here's what you get:

1-lb Velveeta
1/2 lb ground beef
3/4 pkg Old El Paso taco seasoning (couldn't find this. Subbed McCormick's. Was still fabulous)
3/4 jar or 8 oz of Old El Paso taco sauce
1/2 can of tomato sauce (small can)
corn chips

Here's what you do:

Brown hamburger and drain
Mix all ingredients in crock pot
Cook on medium or high until cheese melts (about 90 minutes)
Turn heat to low for serving and Voila!

Now, I have to tell you that it did burn a bit around the edges in my crock pot but the outcome was sooooooooooooooo good! It may not be completely spot on, but it is so close that I can close (homographs, people. love them!) my eyes and almost hear the bustle of the kitchen, the clanking of the plates, and I swear I can smell Mr. V's country fried chicken crispers and honey mustard coming around the corner.

The best part? Ask Mr. V: "It didn't even make much of a mess!" Very, very easy.

Enjoy!

Mrs. V

Oh my goodness! It's a miracle!!!

The last couple of evenings, I have been crazy craving Chili's Skillet Queso. The fact that we've been there twice in the last week and a half and haven't gotten the queso hasn't helped anything. I found a copycat recipe for the queso and planned to make it tonight after I went to training. Mr. V was walking out the door as I was on my way to my car for said training and said he was going to the store, so I asked him to pick up a few things for the queso. He was merely running (literally, on foot) to the convenience store so he said it wasn't going to happen then.

What happened next SHOCKED me. He said, "We'll go to the store tonight when you get back then."

Happy that he said this, I went on my way to training. After the training, I proudly showed him my "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" Romeo and Juliet review and then said "well, I'm going to the store."

This is when I was shocked AGAIN!!!

He said, "Well, wait. I'll go with you. Let me get my shoes."

This may not impress many of you, but to me, it is amazing! I've told him so many times that I'd love it if he'd go with me and so many times before he has disregarded that wish (we speak different love languages and while 'quality time' is one of mine, he does not see grocery shopping as 'quality time.' Fair enough. . . maybe).

But TONIGHT! Tonight, he actually went with me. I am so blessed to have a husband who will do the mundane tasks of life with me. Yay!

I love Mr. V!!!

A Sea of Testosterone

True story.

I had four girls and twelve boys in my A1 class at the beginning of this school year. The second week of school, the counselors decided to move two of those girls out of my class and into other teachers' classes. Fine. I still had two girls. Two poor little girls, floating like buoys of hope in the sea of testosterone, anchored at either end of the classroom as if to set up certain boundries.

Yesterday, I was about to start teaching my B3 class (I often attempt to start teaching before the bell) when one of the two girls from A1 showed up. With papers. Pink, transfer papers. Astonished and a little sad for the remaining A1 girl, I admitted this sweetie into the class.

This morning, I greeted my A1 class as they came in and teased the boys, telling them that they had scared one of our remaining girls away already and they'd better be nice to the girl we have left. Well, this girl never showed up. I marked her absent and went on my merry way, lumping the boys into their groups, encouraging them to finish their projects so we could insult each other (totally in the lesson plan - check out http://www.petelevin.com/shakespeare.htm and you can see the basic idea). They were on board with the idea but not totally because their conversation quickly devolved from Odysseus to "this one time when I was ____________." Fill in the blank. Whatever.

It's during this time that it dawns on me that girls, while possessing that certain quality capable of driving a man mad, tend to calm the boys down. I can't explain it. Maybe they're trying to impress the girls. Again, I don't know. What I do know is that my being there does very little to discourage locker room jokes and other boyish things. I hear more about farts and video games and football in that class than anywhere else. The boys just egg each other on!

Well, it is literally seconds before the bell and there's a KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK on my door. The bell rings and my kids, who know the drill, stay motionless in their seats, hoping to be dismissed. I open the door to find my one last girl, clutching WITHDRAWL PAPERS!!! I turned to the boys and said "That's it. You've done it! You chased away all the girls."

They immediately pelt her with questions about where she's going and why she's leaving, apparently unconcerned with the fact that I am dismissing them.

I, on the other hand, am thinking "what am I going to do with all of these boys???"


When I told Mr. V about it, he said "That's awesome!" (which, by the way, is what the aide he sent to me said upon seeing the class full of boys) followed by "I don't know what it'd be like to teach, but what are the odds of that happening!?!"

I feel like I may drown in this sea. Can anyone tell me how you get guys to willingly read the parts of Nurse, Lady Capulet, Lady Montague, and, of course, Juliet? Because that's what I'm up against. Not sure how a tragic love story is going to go over with all these boys!

I Am a Church Snob

I just realized this as I was shopping after church on Sunday.

Mr. V and I have been searching for new churches since this summer. We've searched on and off. The main problem is that I love my old church. It's the church I was baptised in as a baby, the church I came to know Jesus in, the church where my family and I spent countless Sundays and special Christmas Eve's, the church I returned to after college, the church where my mother's service was held, and it was the church where I became Mrs. V.

Now, my church and I have had some ups and downs, we haven't always seen eye to eye, but it's my church! A few years ago, my largely conservative church decided that they would have a contemporary service. So at 11:05 every Sunday, you can find people rockin' out for Jesus up on the stage. You also get some solid scriptural analysis thrown your way. It's not a sit-and-get church.

Mr. V just wanted a church with a contemporary service with God-fearing people our age (for Bible study and fellowship - we're both down with other age groups) and opportunities to serve. He also wanted it to be a little closer to our zip code.

I wanted my church.

As we started our search, I was very critical about the churches we went to. I was determined to find fault with every single one so that we'd have no choice but to return to the church where we got married.

Nothing was good enough. The pastor at this church was too into his own jokes; they're selling food and beverages in the foyer of that church; what is a bookstore doing here?; this feels too much like a theater production; where is the rest of her skirt!?!; and the list goes on.

Well, I'd been waiting for an opportunity to go back to my church for a long time and, thankfully, we went back the last week in September and were just in time to commission (pray over and send out) our friends who will be serving and working with missionary kids in Germany for the next three years. God started working in my heart (he has a tendency to do that), though I didn't realize it until later, and an amazing thing happened:

This weekend, we were talking about what we'd do for church this week. Mr. V had seen a church over near our local mall and suggested that. After a bit of research (because he didn't know which one it was), we narrowed it down to the church we'd try.

I should mention that Mr. V and I have a special knack for visiting churches on "special" days. We've seen a lot of baptisms, a few communions, and an interview with non-Christians (pretty cool, really). This past Sunday was no different. There was no sermon, and as the preacher was rambling a bit about "if we talk about finances," I took a look around.

The auditorium (not sanctuary - think 'contemporary') was dimly lit with candles at the front; the seats were red, straight-back, chairs; the people were dressed casually. And my judgemental self started creeping in, ready to take over when SMACK! It hit me!

My mind reeled as I thought of all of the churches I've seen throughout the world in the past few years. I've been to super traditional church in Sydney, Australia. I went to casually contempo-traditional churches in Spain. I've seen outdoor churches AND cave churches in Egypt. I went to a church in LA held in an old movie theater, for crying out loud! My friends have told me about churches held in houses in China, Africa, and even in the United States.

I realized that I've been putting my idea of church into a box, carrying it around with me, and showing it off to people as if it's the original and the best thing that ever happened. What I've known all along came up and dumped cold water on me. It's not the outer presentation that matters. It's the message. It's the people. It's the heart that goes into the service. It's the offerings we make of our lives.

While shopping at the Gap, I talked it over with HH. She told me it's better to be a church snob and recognize it than to be a church snob and never know. Now for reformation!

We're going back to try this church again. This time, I'll see it with fresh eyes.

Mrs. V