Don’t Insult My Taste

originally published 11/10/11

  • My thighs are too big…
  • My tummy’s not taut enough…
  • My eyes can look freakishly big…
  • There’s a bump on the bridge of my nose that mars my profile…
  • My waist and hips are disproportionate…
  • My breasts benefit from a good bra in a way they didn’t used to need…
  • My hair needs help to be bright and grey-free…
  • I can see fine lines starting to creep across my forehead…
  • My shoulders are slope-y….
  • My legs?  Too long for my body.



Somehow, I got it into my head that I should point these things out to my husband.  I had this weird idea that, if he knew I really WAS aware of my flaws, perhaps he’d be less critical of them.  Of course, he really wasn’t worried about them in the first place, but I still felt the need to share all my self-deprecating thoughts.


Until the day I watched his eyes warm appreciatively as they swept down my frame clad in a short night gown for bed.


“I know,” I lamented, “it cuts me off right at the fat thigh…”


And the light in his eyes dimmed considerably.  His gaze met mine steadily and he said only one sentence, rather softly:


“Don’t insult my taste.”


Holy mackerel, was that a powerful statement.  How did I not realize that, in diminishing my own worth and beauty, I was deeply insulting the man I love?  How was I so foolish that, rather than bask in the warmth of his adoration, I sought ways to point out why I was undeserving?  It is hardly respectful to the man I love to continually insult the woman he cherishes.


And, to take it even further, what does this self-deprecating speech mean in terms of my respect for God, my Creator?  If it is hurtful to my husband, who chose me to join him in the unity of marriage, how must it be to He in whose image I am fearfully and wonderfully made?   In my heart, I hear Him whisper…


“Don’t insult My work.”


So hush, critical eye.  Go away now.  I have more important things to work on…


like my relationships with God and my husband.

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Dear Halloween Enthusiasts




Dear Halloween Enthusiasts,


Thank you.


That’s all I want to say today.


You play a huge part in making this day magical for my kids.


Me? I’m not very into this particular holiday. I don’t like being scared– at ALL– and I startle so easily that even people coming to my door has me on edge all night. It’s not a very fun day for me.


We carve pumpkins. Put together costumes. Walk our little neighborhood together. I put a big bowl of candy on the front porch and our light is one of the first to go on, showing we are “open for business.” But, really, we don’t do anything too involved or ultra festive.


But some of you do.


Some of you decorate your lawns, line up rows upon rows of pumpkins, or concoct entire landscapes for the season.


Some of you dress up yourselves and my children giggle when a 5’8″ Raggedy Ann answers the door.


Some of you come up with awesome crafts to share with classrooms and it’s just oh-so-much fun.


This? It’s not my forte. I don’t feel very enthusiastic about the holiday and, frankly, REAL fervor is hard to feign.


Luckily for me there are a lot of you out there picking up my slack– there are many people who LOVE Halloween and who look forward to going all-in when this time of year rolls around.


So thank you. Truly.


This Halloween Scrooge is grateful to have you.


You make this day even more special and we appreciate all you do.




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Sucky Drivers Need Grace Too




Several weeks ago, I headed out in search of some very tall athletic socks for my son to wear with his shorts. Is that a trend where you live? Probably. But, if not, give it a little while– we tend to be at the front of the pack for trends here in the Northeast and it’s been here for well over a year already.


Anyway, those socks can be super pricey and, since I don’t really have fifteen bucks to drop on a pair of socks, I went to TJMaxx to see if I could get lucky. And I did! Hooray! I also found some pretty new rugs and towels for our lovely renovated bathrooms.


I paid, strolled to my car, and drove out of the parking lot, up to the light. I had my own turn lane and I waited there, happy as a lark. The light turned green and I started driving.



photo source: Geraint Rowland


And that’s when I realized that I did not, in fact, have a green arrow.


I was miliseconds from turning left directly in front of a Sam Adams delivery truck.


I hit my brakes, eyes wide, the apology all over my face. Luckily for me, the driver of that truck was paying attention and just waved me on, without rude gestures or crass words– or, if there were crass words, they were under his breath.


I completed the turn, shame causing my cheeks to flame, and continued on driving. Really, there was no harm done. We were all fine and life went on. But it got me thinking…


Most people who know me would tell you I’m not a pushy, assertive person. At all. I’m far more likely to let you in line than to cut ahead and I am a to-the-bone rule-follower. Agression makes me uncomfortable and I’d rather wait my turn than vie for position. This is just who I am.


But, in that snapshot of a moment, I was the girl trying to buck the system and get ahead. I was a pushy, aggressive, at-fault driver who has no excuse for my actions, really. I just flat messed up.


And can I tell you what a blessing it was to have my lapse forgiven? To have the other driver simply wave me on, without screaming or gesturing wildly at me?


It was a gift.


Had he been angry and vulgar toward me, I would have accepted it. You will not hear me try to justify my mistake or claim it wasn’t my fault. It totally was.


But in that moment, the other driver chose to look beyond my pushy, reckless move and see the human behind the wheel.


He gave me grace.


And that’s something we could all use a bit more of.

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Menu Plan: New Horizons



Oops! I’m typically pretty good about getting my menu plan up for you all to peruse on Tuesdays. That day works well for me and I like to be consistent when I can be. Yesterday, however, was not a typical Tuesday and, well, it never got posted. Sorry about that!


What was I up to yesterday? Well, I had two big things on my schedule– an interview and a date. I teased on Facebook that I felt like I was 20 again! ;)


I spent all yesterday morning in interviews and orientation and, when all was said and done, I was approved as a substitute teacher. I was also approved as a substitute para-educator and secretary, but teaching is what I really want to do. I can’t start doing that until mid-November, however, as the Board of Education has to formally “acknowledge” me in that role. I will definitely share more with you all soon about what made me decide to do this and why I’m so excited about it, but, there you go!


After that, my husband and I went out to lunch at a new-to-us place and I ate a giant quesadilla burger that was DELICIOUS. I also had an absolutely lovely chat with the 80-year-old lady seated at the table next to me. I just adore chats with seniors!


But now I’m back and ready to share what we’re eating around here–


So, here’s the meal plan for the week!


you gotta eat





B–Cereal, Apples, Milk ( before 7:30AM Mass)

Lunch– No brunch today! My son was running his very first 5K, so we ate after that– we had grilled cheese sandwiches (on this bread), carrot sticks, and random leftovers.


D–Sunday Supper at Bama & Papa’s (Hawaiian Pork over Cabbage, etc– tasty!)




B–Granola, Yogurt

D–Chicken, Carrots, & Green Beans over Rice w/ various sauces



B–Pancakes, Eggs, Fruit

D–Chicken, Spinach, & Mozz Burritos




B–Granola, Raisins, Apples, Milk

D–Penne w/ Sausage Marinara, Broccoli




B–PB  Toast, Apples, Milk

Mummies in Blankets

D–Mummy Dogs, Carrot Sticks




B–Cereal, Apples, Milk

D–Lg. Sausage Pizza, Med. Cheese Pizza




B–Scr. Eggs w/ veggies (mushrooms, onions, peppers, broccoli), English Muffins w/ PB (<– this was a hit last week and we’re doing it again! :) )

End of the Month Soup

D–“End of the Month” Soup, Breadsticks w/ garlic dipping sauce




And that should do it!



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First Fruits



Those of you who hang out with me on Facebook probably already saw that A. ran his first official 5K road race yesterday. (And thank you for indulging me in being rather proud of his time– I don’t really mean to be Mrs. Braggy McMommypants.)


We didn’t find out about the race until Wednesday night. The deadline to preregister was Friday and it had to be done in person– no online registration available. Since it was neither in our town nor the one in which my husband works, we had to juggle to get it done. But we did.


Friday night, I asked A, “You know, kiddo… your race is at 10AM and we need to be there before that. In a different town. Are you sure you want to serve at 7:30AM Mass before that? We could just go to church the evening before, to the vigil…”


“Nah, I’ll serve,” he replied, as he sketched out a scene for a video game he’d like to one day design. “I mean– I’m on the schedule. They’re expecting me.”


I worked the numbers in my head and concluded that, yes, we could make it to the 7:30AM Mass, home to change, and off to the race. Juggled perfectly, we could probably even snag a quick donut and coffee before zipping out of the church.


So that’s what we did.




It was overwhelming to drop him off amid a sea of hundreds of runners of all ages. At the last minute, we learned the roads were NOT, in fact, closed, and he’d be running while traffic continued on. GAH! It was also to be the first race in which he ever left my line of sight. I would see him at the start and the finish, but not for most of the three miles in the middle. I’m not at all a helicopter parent and I believe strongly in fostering independence, but, even with that, it was a little scary for me, being the first time.


A. ran and ran well. At the end of the day, he earned a trophy for being third in the fourteen and under male division– not bad at all for a nine-year-old running his first 5K.




Late last night, as I sat by my boy on the couch, taking in his fleece-legged, race-shirted lanky form, I smiled at him.


“I’m so proud of you, A. You did a great job today. I love that you had the courage to take on something new and that you gave it your all. Also, I’m amazed that you still got up early so you could serve at 7:30 Mass!”


He leaned in to me, as he’s still fond of doing, and shrugged as he said, “I guess I figured that’s what they meant by ‘first fruits.’ If I can’t give the first part of my energy and focus to God, then my focus is in the wrong place.”


I sat in silence for a moment. Kissed his dark, thick hair, then leaned a cheek against it.


Leave it to that kid to make me even prouder than I thought I was.

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What (most) Grammar Geeks Actually Expect



Yesterday, I checked my mailbox as I waited for my girls’ bus. In it, I found a big, glossy postcard– a political solicitation. On the front were pictures of four homes, ranging from a tiny, modest home to a full-on mansion. They were labeled, “How you see your home,” “How the bank sees your home,” “How the tax man sees your home,” and “How your mother-in-law sees your home.”


It was a good campagin, to be honest. Any homeowner knows that tax assessments are notoriously high and bank assessments often come in low, meaning you get burned on both ends.


I flipped it over to read the politician’s bulleted list of campaign points. Right at the top, I saw,


“STOP over-taxing homeowner’s.”


And I gagged a little.


Here’s the thing…


I have a strong grasp of the language. I understand lots of nit-picky rules that go right over many people’s heads. I know when to use whom, that a possessive pronoun precedes a gerund, and that judgment does NOT, in fact, have an “e” after the “g” in this country. Still, I absolutely make spelling and grammar errors in my writing. I’m sure you could easily find some here on this blog, in my Facebook statuses, and in casual email correspondence.


Being a grammar geek doesn’t mean you’re infallible.


And, contrary to what some may think, being a grammar geek doesn’t mean you expect everyone else to have and use perfect grammar. Yes, it would be nice if people could figure out when to use “its” vs “it’s.” I would also love it if folks would spend a few minutes learning how to not do dumb things like write “viola!” when they mean “voilà!” or “adieu” when they mean “ado.” But, at the end of the day, I get over it. I don’t really spend much time worrying about the average person’s grammar faux pas.


Here’s what I DO expect, however…


If you’re a corporation or a politician or are publishing something you hope might be widespread?





Newsflash– auto-correct is a lousy editor. Spell-check is far from perfect. You simply cannot rely on your computer, tablet, or phone to catch your errors.


That postcard I got in the mail? It wasn’t very big. It would have taken even the pickiest copy editor maybe ten minutes to go over with a fine-toothed comb. How much do you really think that would cost, in the grand scheme of things? Heck, I’d have happily done it for twenty bucks. ;)


But the campaign manager for that policitican must have decided it wasn’t worth the effort or cost. He or she had this glaring error mass-produced and widely distributed.




Is unacceptable.


I used to work for a HUGE bank and we’d receive marketing materials to hang that had significant errors. I’d balk and my manager would roll her eyes at me, “No one will notice, JL. You’re just a freak with your grammar.”


But that’s not true. I’m not the only one who will notice. Even if only 10% of the population will catch the error on that postcard (and, to be honest, that’s a modest estimate with such an obvious mistake), that’s a ton of people– a ton of people who will be seriously turned off by the carelessness of it.


I don’t honestly care if my political leaders have good grammar– I care that they have good judgment.


And not knowing when to rely on someone who has talents you lack?


Is poor judgment.


At the end of the day, we grammar geeks of the world can overlook the average joe schmoe’s screw-ups. We might roll our eyes at some of the more egregious errors that creep across our social media feeds, but, deep-down, we don’t have much trouble getting over it.


But, if you’re willing to invest in a marketer? Invest in a proof-reader.


Because that’s where our patience ends.

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What My Kids Love About My Blogging



My kids love it when packages arrive with “JessieLeigh” and “Parenting Miracles” printed across the label.


Now, part of that is just that they harbor hope that bubble wrap will be therein and they well-understand the simple pleasure of a good bubble popping session. The other part is that they get so darn excited to try new things.


There’s a part of me that thinks, “Really, kids? You have a mama who bakes nearly incessantly and who will make you any variety of cookie, muffin, streudel, or granola bar… and you’re this excited about packaged treats?”


But then I remember being in second grade and opening my lunch box. Inside, every day, my mom lovingly packed home-baked treats. And, while the kids at my table were jealous of my chocolate chip cookies made from scratch, I envied their cellophane-wrapped chocolate peanut butter wafer bars.


So, yes, I get it. And I’m totally fine with it. We all want what we don’t have and, well, it’s fun to try something new!

Continue reading What My Kids Love About My Blogging

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Feta-Studded Braided Loaf



Homemade bread is such a delicious treat alongside soup, pasta, or even a big salad. Don’t be intimidated at the thought of making it yourself! This lovely loaf comes together quickly and easily and requires absolutely no special equipment.


Feta-Studded Braided Loaf


Feta-Studded Braided Loaf
Prep time: 
Cook time: 
Total time: 
Serves: 8
A beautiful, flavortul bread, studded with bursts of feta cheese. This loaf comes together easily and has a wonderful texture for alongside soup or pasta.
  • 1 cup warm water
  • 1 tablespoon yeast
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 2½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
  • ¼ cup crumbled feta cheese
  • ¼ cup butter (melted)
  • ½ teaspoon garlic powder
  1. Dump water in large bowl and sprinkle yeast and sugar over the surface. Let sit for 15 minutes-- it should get high and foamy.
  2. Add salt, oil, and flour. Stir with large spoon (I like my big wooden one) for as long as you are able, then switch to using your hands. Squeeze together as much as possible, then dump the entire contents of the bowl onto a floured surface. Knead for two minutes, until smooth.
  3. Place dough back in bowl and cover. Allow to rise for 30 minutes.
  4. Divide dough into three even balls. Roll each into a "snake", about 18" long.
  5. Lay dough snakes on a greased cookie sheet and fasten together at one end by pressing the dough together.
  6. Braid the dough. As you alternate sides, tuck crumbles of feta cheese into the braid. One you reach the ends of your dough strands, press them together and tuck underneath.
  7. Cover loaf with tea towel and allow to rise in warm place until doubled, about 45 minutes.
  8. Bake at 375 degrees for 25-30 minutes.
  9. While loaf cools for about 10 minutes, mix melted butter and garlic powder, then brush evenly over surface of loaf.
  10. Slice and serve. This bread is tastiest when warm, but can easily be reheated if you make it ahead.


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Menu Plan: Lots of Meatless Meals



Let me cut to the chase here– the grocery budget is not doing what it used to. Between rising food costs and (significantly) growing appetites, I’m finding myself scrambling by the last third of the month. Don’t get me wrong– we’re certainly not going hungry and I’m not complaining. I’m just consistently amazed by how quickly we burn through what SEEMS like a lot of food. My kids are all at stages where they consume large portions of meat, eggs, cheese, fruit, veggies, and, in two of their cases, starches. It’s madness!


While we’ve learned to allow some grace in the budget for this, I’ve also learned some tricks to keep those “end of the month” costs down. One? Is simply using what we have. I cook based on what’s in my fridge, freezer, and pantry, not based on what sounds good. That’s key. Another way I keep the extra spending down is by cooking more meatless meals. Meat– especially good meat– is expensive! Cutting it out two or three nights a week helps the bottom line.


So, here’s the meal plan for the week!


you gotta eat





B–Cereal, Apples, Milk ( before 7:30AM Mass)

Brunch-Ham, Egg, & Cheese Skillets over Fried Potatoes


D–Poor Man’s Chicken Parmesan, Buttery Tomato Penne, Green Beans




B–Toast Strips, Sliced Bananas, and Strawberry Yogurt– I let them eat this however they wanted, together, separate, dipped, whatever.

D–Mixed Veggies in a Ginger Peanut Sauce over Rice



B–Egg Wraps, Apples, Milk

D–”Short Spaghetti” (<– I broke the noodles in about fifths) with Marsala Sauce (tons of mushrooms, but no meat)




B–Cereal, Apples, Milk

D–Cheesy Beans & Rice




B–PB  Toast, Yogurt

D–Shredded Beef Burritos w/ Peppers & Onions (behold! MEAT! ;) )




B–Cereal, Apples, Milk

D–Lg. Tomato, Onion, & Mushroom Pizza, Med. Cheese Pizza




B–Scr. Eggs w/ veggies (mushrooms, onions, peppers, broccoli), English Muffins w/ PB

D–Beef Stew w/ Fluffy Dumplings




And that should do it!



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4th Place is Tough



My A… he’s quite a kiddo, that one. Math prodigy, confident performer, compassionate little soul. Faithful, kind, and bright, he really is a great kid. Sure, he’s got his quirks and less favorable traits (fiercely driven by place/score/percentage would be one!!!), but, overall, I hit the Lotto with that child.


He’s also a really good runner. If I’m honest, I”ll tell you that it’s actually weird for me to type that. I’m still sort of wrapping my own brain around it because the truth is that, for a long time, I sort of assumed that A. was one of these kids who’s wildly talented academically, but perhaps lacking athletically. I never vocalized that, but it’s what I was thinking. Of course, since I arrived at that assumption, the child has gone on to get his red belt in karate and crank out some seriously fast race times.


Lesson learned– don’t assume.


Anyway, this past Saturday was our town’s annual K-6 Cross Country Run. Up until junior high, we don’t have “official” cross country teams around here. Sure, you can join private clubs/leagues, but it’s not a school sport. But each October, the six PE teachers for our K-6 population organize a meet for the kids who want to run. And, of course, A. wanted to run.


I don’t know how much you know about running– I don’t know much, myself– but my nine-year-old typically runs a mile in the low sevens– 7:11, 7:18. 7:08, etc… those are all recent times of his. And they’re good. A time like that, for a fourth grader, will almost always make you the fastest in your gym class and will catch the notice of adult runners. Is it record-breaking? Of course not. But it’s fast. And, when your time is already considered quite fast, it means a lot to shave even a few seconds off of it.


A. ran the mile on Saturday in 6:58.


That is STAGGERING, really. It’s an amazing time. But you know what’s even more amazing?


That time got him fourth place. Among fourth grade boys.




With only the top three receiving medals– AS IT SHOULD BE– he was the first to cross the line who didn’t receive recognition.


And it was rough.


I could see it all over his face– the harsh disappointment, the frustration, and, honestly, the surprise.


In that field of about 30 runners, we had FIVE fourth grade boys break a seven-minute-mile.


My competitive little guy was upset. He was angry with himself. He was bitter about his place. He was disgusted that he “lost.”


“Buddy– look at your TIME,” I tried to remind him. Your time was fantastic!”


He kicked a pebble.


“Honestly, kiddo, you were just in an incredibly fast group. A 6:58 mile? Would put you at the top of many fourth grade groups– just not this one. And that’s great! It means you’ve got lots of people to push you to get even better!”


He looked away.


The gym teachers praised his time. Other parents congratulated him. His peers remarked on his speed and high-fived him.


But none of it really mattered– because, well, fourth place is hard.


And then a group of high school cross country runners asked him, “So how’s you do today? Good run?”


And he responded, without expression, “6:58.”


“Dude! I can’t make that time!” A long-legged girl replied, her ponytail bobbing.

“That’s an AWESOME time,” her friend agreed.

“That’s a high school time,” a freshman boy told my son, giving him a nod of respect.


And A. looked up, still not really smiling.


I smiled crookedly and said, “He got fourth.”


Jaws dropped.


Because, that’s the thing– it’s a total fluke that this particular group of boys housed that much talent. Truly? The gap between number five and number six was vast. Huge, really. Almost thirty seconds which, when it comes to a mile time, is gigantic. That’s not because the rest of those boys were slow! Nope– it’s because five of those boys were incredibly fast.


And when those slack-jawed high school runners shook their heads in disbelief and mavelled at this little group of upcoming speed demons, I think it finally sank in for A…


And he realized that those words of Greg King’s are indeed true:


“There’s a difference between losing a game and getting beat. If you lose a game, then you have made mistakes that cost a victory, but that wasn’t the case.”


And he finally realized…


he didn’t lose that race.

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