...from our home to yours.  

 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

Luke 2:11

Dream a little dream with me

I have been struggling with what to do with myself.  I love being at home for my children.  I do not want to change that aspect of my life, but we really could use extra income.  Really, who couldn't? We were talking on the phone, he and I, mulling over ideas.  I am a pretty spoiled having not worked for anyone but myself for most of the fifteen years we have been married. (Except for five years at a dentist's office part time.) I have sold Home Interior and Pampered Chef, babysat, cleaned houses, typed, whatever seemed good at the time.  The thought of being tied to someone's schedule beside my family's is not what I want.   

Now I want something more settled but I still want my freedom.  There is a new certification being offered at my University and I am thinking about tagging it on here at the end while I am so close to graduation.  Teaching English as a second language.  A mere fifteen hours.  Since I usually jump in with both feet and then wonder how to get out of the hole, I thought I would get a job as a tutor and see if I liked it.  So, I am going to see how this works out.  I am going to call and check into it tomorrow.  I really hope it is a job I can love because it ties in with a dream.

I want to travel.  A lot.  But what I really fancy more is actually living in other countries for a bit to explore, to learn, to absorb.  I have read a about teaching English abroad and I would not necessarily have to have a teaching degree if I have experience.  So my plan is to write, write, write, and tutor and some day when Barry retires I will teach English abroad and we will live in foreign places like gypsies.  

It may sound silly, or impractical, but it is still a dream.  In saying it out loud I make it a goal also.  I have a Thing To Work Toward.  If the dream changes, if the goal changes, that is okay.  It is always good to have one though.  He, well he is warming up to the dream.  We are funny he and I.  Change scares me but he is fine with it.  Dreams seem to scare him but I could not live without them.  It seems the two would go together but they do not in us.  That is fine though.  Together we make it just fine.      

Cheaterpants Gravy

Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake.  I blame college.  Seriously.  I don't have time for anything else lately.  Hence the big gap in blog posts.  Two papers so far this semester then midterms.  I have been slightly neurotic and overwhelmed.  I was on a quick trip to Branson with my Girl Scouts a few weeks ago and was educated by friends concerning The Pioneer Woman.  I even hear my non-foody friends moan, "I would looovvvee to cook at Ree's house with her!" After spending a huge amount of procrastination time on her site one day last week, I get it.  The sad thing is, if someone from our house got an invite to Ree's house it would probably be my husband.  He was blessed with Memaw's cooking genes. 

One of his specialties is pot roast.  Funny enough it is very similar to Ree's recipe, which we checked out today when we were starting our pot roast.  The only differences are these: he does not like carrots so we skip that step and he also dredges the roast in flour, salt, and pepper.  (My Grandma Vera taught us how to cook pot roast not long after we were married.  It was time well spent.)  He also likes a thicker gravy rather than pan juice and sometimes we make it from scratch, but other times we are total cheaterpants.  If you are not a homemade gravy maker, we have a recipe for you. 

Cheaterpants  Gravy

 After your roast has cooked strain the pan juices.  (This helps to get any pieces of fat out.)  He then puts a packet or two of brown gravy mix in the same pan he braised the roast in.  Then just add the pan juice instead of water.  If you follow Ree's directions on adding beef stock you will have plenty of pan juice.  This. makes. all. the. difference. in. the. world.

If lumps are a problem we break out the potato masher.  A real one.  Not the one with a single squiggly bar.  By the way, those are not lumps in the picture above.  They are little chunks of roast.  Yes, it is as good as it sounds.  No one would ever think it was not homemade gravy.   
 

Grandma Mason's potato masher

 
  Midterms are over but I have a thesis and outline due Tuesday so I may be quiet for a while yet, but I'll be around.  I have so many ideas, so many things I want to share and I feel restricted by school right now, which is unusual for me because even with all the craziness that it adds to my life I have loved going back to school.  It is a dream in progress.