Parental visit

My parental units are visiting this weekend from Colorado. We are looking forward to much fun, good food, a visit to our favorite breakfast place, and plenty of Scrabble.

It has also given us a good excuse to get a good thorough fall cleaning done. We went all out on the cleaning. We've filled about four big trash bags with stuff we decided to finally get rid off, and have taken two trips to the local Crisis Pregnancy resale store with stuff to donate. The room which is destined to become the baby's room has been collecting all the junk we haven't wanted to think about for the last two years, and we finally got that sorted out. It always feels so good to throw stuff away.

Pear Butter.

I originally posted this over a year ago, but spent part of yesterday afternoon making a big batch of pear butter and was reminded why I love it so much. I had it on some waffles this morning and it was delicious! So here's the recipe. This stuff really does make a great Christmas present - not the typical cookies or cake, relatively inexpensive, and very tasty.

Pear Butter works for me.

Working in a doctor's office, there are lots of people around who I'd like to give Christmas presents to, like the nurses who work on my pod, the secretaries who order us lunch everyday, our residency coordinator who fills out paperwork for us, etc. But I don't want to spend lots of money, because it starts to add up. This year I decided to make some Pear butter, which just sounded tastier to me than apple butter. I also don't have a food mill so I just used my blender.

Pear Butter
INGREDIENTS
4 pounds medium pears, quartered and cored
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon grated orange zest
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 cup orange juice
1 tsp. vanilla

DIRECTIONS
Place pears into a large pot over medium heat, and add just enough water to cover the bottom of the pot and keep them from sticking, about 1/2 cup. Cook until the pears are soft, about 30 minutes. Press pears through a sieve or food mill, and measure out 2 quarts of the pulp.
Pour the pear pulp and sugar into a large saucepan and stir to dissolve sugar. Stir in the orange zest, nutmeg and orange juice. Cook over medium heat until the mixture is thick enough to mound in a spoon. When the mixture begins to thicken, stir frequently to prevent scorching on the bottom. This will take about 1 hour.
Ladle the pear butter into hot sterile jars, leaving 1/4 inch of headspace. Remove air bubbles by sliding a metal spatula around where the pear butter touches the glass. Wipe jar rims clean, and seal with lids and rings. Process for 10 minutes in a boiling water bath. The water should cover the jars by 1 inch. Check with your local extension for exact processing times for your area.

Keep all the peelings, cores, and leftover pieces of fruit that does not go into the pan, and these you can turn into Pear Honey

Pear Honey
Place all the good leftover pieces in a pot and cover with water. Simmer gently over medium heat for 20-30 minutes until the juice has turned a nice brown color. Drain through a cheesecloth.

Measure this syrup and combine it with half as much sugar in a pot, and boil slowly until it thickens to the consistency of honey. (This will take a while. I actually stopped before it was quite this thick, but it thickened up even more once it is in the fridge.)

Pour into jars and process the same as the pear butter.

Now, you have plenty of beautiful and delicious jars to give away as gifts, and have even used up all the goodness from the pears, creating an inexpensive but nice gift. That definitely works for me.

Thou shalt not move the ancient green electrical access box.

I've noticed an interesting phenomenon. Every summer, as I go out to mow the lawn, I notice that my neighbors have mowed their own lawns, plus they have generously also mowed about two or three feet of my lawn. I always squint my eyes in their general direction, and suspiciously wonder if they have truly done this out of good natured benevolence, or if they are trying to subtly claim the extra bit of yard as belonging to them. However, when its 99 degrees out, I quickly unsquint my eyes, and give thanks that I have a bit less yard to mow.

Strangely however, this phenomenon does not carry over into fall leaf raking season. Every fall, as the beautifully colored leaves begin to descend, as if magically, I gain the lost edges of my yard back. A laser-straight line can be perceived, separating the pristine leafless expanses of my neighbors yards, from the ankle deep leafing fields of my own. And this line never fails to perfectly straddle the division between the two water access panels on the one side, and the edge of the green electrical box on the other.

No doubt it was leaf-related disputes like these that led to the law in Deuteronomy 19:14:

You shall not move your neighbor's landmark, which the men of old have set, in the inheritance that you will hold in the land that the Lord your God is giving you to possess.

Abide with me.

Yesterday was a long and strange day.

After church, we went to a funeral for one of the older members of our church. He had been diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago, and honestly, our prayer has been that he would die quickly, and at home. He loved being home. He was born, lived his whole life, and died, all within a 2 mile radius. And our prayers were answered. He lived by himself until the end. His funeral was brief, but sweet.

I was also scheduled to work in the ER yesterday. Because of the funeral, I was running late, and drove almost straight from the funeral to the hospital. By the time I got to the hospital, I also had a patient who was ready to have her baby. I ran in, put on my gown and gloves, and then 3 pushes later had a beautiful little baby girl.

Then, I started my ER shift. Just before I arrived to the ER, a five year old had come in and died. A five year old. Apparently due to an ATV accident. The ER doctor was shaken. The nurses were crying. Even though I wasn't there when he came in, I had arrived just in time to see the parents get there. Watched as they were put into an empty room. And heard his mom's screams as she was told. It was awful. Horrible.

And I thought back to the funeral earlier, and the birth I had just attended. The highs and lows of this life. And loved again the hymn we sang at the funeral, and thought how it was just what I had needed on that day, and what I am praying for all three families.

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.

I need thy presence every passing hour.
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?
Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
ills have no weight, and tears not bitterness.
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

Too young.

People tell me I look too young to be their doctor a lot. Every time I'm on call, someone asks me if I'm sure I'm old enough to be a doctor. I never really know what to say. I don't think I look that young. It sort of gets old.

I went to the dentist yesterday. I'm not going to say how long it had been since I was last there, because I'm a doctor and we are supposed to set a good example of taking care of our teeth. But I will say I got a perfect bill of tooth health.

After the hygienist vigorously cleaned and flossed, the actual dentist came in to check on things. My first thought when I saw him was, "Wow. He looks like a frat boy." My second?

"He is not old enough to be a dentist."

I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying that.

The Dwight Schrute School of Thought

Amid the ongoing debates on how to make health care affordable, Aubrey threw in her two cents, now I'm going to throw in mine. (Actually, Aubrey's thoughts were worth considerably more than two cents, mine are worth slightly less) I say, we're lucky that health care is as affordable as it is. As Dwight Schrute once said:

Why tip someone for a job I'm capable of doing myself? I can deliver food. I can drive a taxi. I can, and do, cut my own hair. I did however, tip my urologist, because I am unable to pulverize my own kidney stones.

I think there's much good sense here.

Project Nursery.

We finally started working to get the nursery ready yesterday. At 10pm. I'm not sure why I was suddenly struck to go through the boxes of stuff that had been shoved into the extra bedroom upstairs, but I was. And so we started. Since we've moved in, that room has been the "where-should-we-put-this?-I-don't-know-just-stick-it-in-the-extra-room" room. So there were boxes of old toys, several old posters, old pictures, random baskets, old papers - you name it, it was in there. We made a huge pile of stuff to be donated to our local crisis pregnancy center resale store, and an even huger pile of trash.

THEN, we moved on to the craft room. Let me just say that I LOVE my craft room. It's nice to have a place where I can keep all the craft stuff, and not have to drag out the sewing machine whenever I want to sew. The downside of having a special place to do it all in is that I don't have lots of motivation to keep it neat. I can leave fabric pieces strewn about across the floor when I'm in the midst of a project, and then just close the door. Which I've been doing a lot of lately. It looked like a fabric store threw up. And the closet in the craft room - I had completely forgotten that it had a floor. Jeff and I thought that maybe the pile of stuff just went all the way to the center of the earth. But after going through it, and throwing stuff away, I'm happy to report that not only is there a floor, but the carpet looks pretty nice.

There is just a wonderful feeling that I get when I get rid of stuff. Like a weight is lifted. I was able to drop everything off today and wow - our upstairs is looking so much better. And now that things are neater I might even get motivated to start doing some nursery sewing soon.

I would say that I wish I had a before picture, but truthfully, that room was so bad I'd be ashamed to post it. So maybe later I'll take an "after" picture, and leave the rest to your imagination.

Winning isn't everything (or is it?)

Its the baseball offseason again, and free agents are shopping their wares. The GM's are all meeting in Chicago this week, and we're all eager to hear which players will be moving teams and which will be staying. All of this means we're about to be inundated with the oft-used, but regrettable stock phrase, "Its not about the money, its about winning championships."

Now when I was a lad, still but knee high to a yak-pup, I participated in many organized sports. And if there was one moral lesson to be taken away from the experience, it was that winning wasn't everything. Sure, we played to win, but it was more important that we play fair, do our best, encourage our teammates, and shake hands with the opponents after the game. And considering I played for mostly Christian school teams, giving glory to God was also a consideration.

Apparently somewhere between youth sports and the professional level, this lesson is being lost. And not only is it being lost, but it is being replaced with the exact opposite lesson, "Winning IS everything." And not only has the emphasis on winning won the day, but it has simultaneously managed to usurp the moral high ground that used to be reserved for honesty and fairness. One gets the impression these days that players who say they simply want to go where they can win a championship really think they are being more noble and self denying than their money grubbing colleagues who will simply accept the largest contract regardless of which team offers it.

It would appear that winning and money are the only two factors in the lives of a professional athletes, and by throwing money under the bus, winning has managed to come out on top. Of course, given the financial incentives that accompany winning, there's rarely much sacrifice involved when a player decides to go to a winning team. Winning leads to money. So what they're really saying is that "Money isn't everything, getting paid well to win is." How noble. They've decided to lust after both fame AND fortune, rather than just fortune.

NBA star LeBron James was the latest to use this line, amidst ongoing speculation related to his upcoming free agency. But just to be safe, he clarified today:

"Let's get this clear: I said the max contract doesn't mean more than winning," James said. "I didn't say 'I don't need a max contract' or 'I'm not going to get a max contract.' All I'm saying is that winning is more important to me than money at the end of the day."

Lest his greed be mistaken for altruism, James wants to make one thing clear: He really, really wants to make boatloads of money while simultaneously pursuing fame and titles. But as he says, money isn't everything, its about winning. What a great guy.