sunday splurge

When I was a kid, Sunday afternoons were ruled by ritual: go to church, eat dinner, lolly-gag as much as possible to avoid eating broccoli, take a nap, and then, enjoy 3 o'clock ice cream. There was something magical about the 3 o'clock hour. I was given license to grab a spoon and fill my bowl with the sweet and creamy flavor of the week, chocolate chips, and fudge sauce.

We splurged on Sundays.

Today, my splurge took the shape of berries and creamy vanilla. It was lick-the-spatula good.

My frozen blueberry stash from last summer is quickly dwindling. I kick myself for not buying a whole trunk load in August, back when ten pounds of fresh, plump berries were a dreamy seventeen dollars.


A few Sundays ago, our splurge was ringside tickets for the Spartan Stampede. My grandpa instilled in me a love of rodeo, and this annual MSU event was one of his favorites.

 I had such a great time hanging out with some of my relatives and watching the rodeo. We ran into a few of grandpa's rodeo buddies and reminisced. One of grandpa's old friends, Jim, passed away recently as well. We stood and clapped as Jim's wife, Les, accepted the Legacy Award on Jim's behalf.

I can just imagine grandpa and Jim sitting side-by-side on a fence and smiling down on us, enjoying the show. Or, who knows, maybe they're busy organizing their own rodeo with chutes of gold and lariats that always swing true.


What's your Sunday splurge?

Christmas: 2013 edition

Christmas was a little different this year. But no matter what, the Christmas celebration with my extended family is something we always look forward to. My mom and I were tasked with organizing the event, and everyone was able to attend!

I was one of the lucky ones who grew up surrounded by cousins and aunts and uncles. Now that my cousins have grown up, some have moved away. Far away. So it was super special to have everyone in the same home, gathered around the same table. Ok so all 34 of us did not fit around one table.

Weeks ago, my mom and I planned the menu and coined the theme: memories. Everyone was to bring a gift that was somehow associated with a family memory. Details were intentionally vague as the gifts could be old, new, or homemade. The gifts were distributed white elephant style; however, after someone opened their gift, the giver told the story or memory that inspired the gift. This turned out to be such a fun and sentimental time with lots of laughter and a few tears. There were funny memories, like Grandma's fishing expedition, and poignant memories, like Grandpa's favorite sayings and his famous candy bag.

This was the first Christmas without our loving patriarch. Several family members used the gift exchange as an opportunity to tell stories about Grandpa and remember wonderful moments that were shared with him. Often, when the family gathered together, Grandpa would pause and announce that he is so blessed and so thankful for his family. We absorbed his gratefulness and it now emanates from us.

My mom and I decorated the table with woodsy elements. It's our style, and frankly, it's inexpensive. We cut pine branches and berries from the trees in the yard and gathered pine cones. The glass candle holders were used as centerpieces at my wedding, and the burlap was also left over from my wedding. My mom came across the super-cute, decorative animals and purchased several to add interest and fun to the table. I'd say it worked pretty well.

My dad even helped out with the place card holders. He cut pieces of birch wood branches and sliced an angled slit in each one. Name cards and a sprig of pine were tied onto the birch piece with spare string from the burlap. We swiped old photos from Grandma and placed copies into the wood. The pictures went along with the "memory" theme and got the older generation talking about what happened that one time...

It was a wonderful day. New memories were made while old ones were rehashed and embellished. Grandpa would be proud.

Maust Family Weekend 2013

I thought we had missed our opportunity to take in the pony races here in town. Thankfully, I was wrong. The pony races were the perfect start to our Maust Family Weekend on Friday night. Just like Grandpa would have done, we arrived early to get track side seats and ate pizza, watermelon, and popcorn off tailgates.

This tradition used to be referred to as the Maust Family Retreat. It was my grandparent's Christmas gift to all of us. But since my Grandpa became sick and passed away, the tradition is scaled down quite a bit. Nevertheless, the time spent with the family is wonderful.

Saturday began with a breakfast feast and some reminiscing. And it ended, like all good summer nights, with a campfire.  In between, the day was packed to the gills with sunshine and activities. The ladies hit the flea market, and the guys shot skeet, went fishing, and caused trouble at the gravel pit.

Later we joined together for activities. This was my arena, and it was about the time that I misplaced my camera. I devised a scavenger hunt and games to keep everyone moving. Cheeto head was probably the biggest hit. Although, my dad's "hillbilly horseshoes," played with toilet seats in lieu of horseshoes, was a close second.

(pic taken by a cousin?)

Planning family activities is not as easy as I thought it might be! Thankfully, most family members, (including Grandma!) are good sports.

The Fair and Remembering

Today rounds out the 2013 edition of the county fair. It was a great week with early mornings, late nights, good food and entertainment, and the added plus of near-perfect weather. But this year, there were also some tears.

Grandpa wasn't there.

I didn't see him cruising around on his golf cart or serving the performers or keeping the cowboys in line. He wasn't there to tape off our spot for the parade or hand out carnival ride tickets. We didn't talk horses or take bets on the scores of the 8 second rides.

Even though he was not there, the fair board and my extended family remembered him well.

There was a tribute featuring one of Grandpa's favorite gospel groups and ten friends and family members who recounted stories of Grandpa's grace and passion.

And the family gathered around the stage to watch the rodeo. He was remembered in the cowboy way with a riderless horse and a prayer.

In his honor, the cowboys and cowgirls wore aqua colored bandanas and busted out of the "Herb Maust" chute.

We took in all of the riding, roping, and barrel racing and hung out past midnight watching slack.

This is the first time that I have lost someone close to me.  The grief process is new and strange. Along with the loss of my grandpa, I've watched some family traditions fall by the way side. We missed the pony races, the fair parade, and the Maust family retreat. The family does not get together as much as we used to. Such is the nature of families I suppose, as we get older and the family gets larger. But it felt like we were dishonoring Grandpa.

Last night on our way home, with all of these thoughts swirling around, I came to a different conclusion. The fair won't ever be the same and our family won't ever be the same. But that does not mean that we are dishonoring him. We will always remember Grandpa, and we will carry on his legacy through our lives. We do not need to act like he is still here by doing everything that we used to do. The wonderful reality is that he is not here. He lived his life well and earned his eternal reward.

Fourth Fun

It was a long weekend, full of wonderful things. From barbeque to pie, baseball to horse showing, this Independence Day was celebrated in all of the best ways.

We kicked it off with a family fish fry for my dad's birthday. He fried up the walleye from the latest Michigan fishing trip. After feasting on fresh walleye, no other fish seems very tasty. The company was equally lovely. We oohed and ahhed over my mom's flower patches and container garden.

I tell ya, she is brilliant. This is a garden that I might even be able to manage.

Next, we packed up the camper and horse trailer and headed to Kendallville for the Mid-states Team Tournament. I like this event because it turns horse showing into a team sport. I also like it because our team did very well!

The team in the grand entry!

We rounded off the weekend with a quick trip to Fort Wayne to meet up with dear friends for lunch and a Tin Caps game.

The great thing about baseball? The games are long and provide lots of time to chit chat. And that is just what these long distance friends needed.

Centerpieces of Love

Love is in the air this Valentine's Day week. It's got me thinking back to our official love day. Our wedding was far from perfect, but it was all sorts of handmade lovely.

The reception was held in a large pavilion type barn. Because it was not an enclosed building, we could not do all of the set-up until the day of the wedding. I am blessed with wonderful cousins and aunts who decorated the barn, including putting the centerpieces together, while I was busy doing other day-of-wedding activities.  A friend of my mom's kept watch at the barn until the party arrived.

True to my (semi)organized self, I created pictures of what the centerpieces were to look like to give to my relatives for easy duplication on wedding day.

My dad put together these gorgeous flower boxes out of old wood from our barn, and my mom found plastic containers that fit perfectly inside the boxes so they could be easily filled with home-grown flowers. I swiped a five gallon bucket of old horse shoes from the farrier before he could take them to the scrap yard. Kb spent a few evenings scrubbing them up so they'd be fit to set on a table.

My mom scored several of these glass candle holders at Kohl's on clearance. They were simple and slightly elegant, amidst the rustic decor. Also in the picture is a table marker. My dad welded the horseshoes together to make a stand. In addition, I have found that they double as great bookends. :)

Aside from the flower boxes, these were my favorite. My dad sliced pieces of wood from the pile out back, and my mom and I gathered different sized glass jars from our neighbors and friends. One design tip that my mom made sure I knew was that items look best in threes.

(pretty pictures courtesy of Jennifer Van Elk)

And last but not least, we put together rustic metal pieces in groups of three of course. This satisfied another one of my mom's design tips: different mediums used together create a more balanced feel. We had centerpieces comprised of wood, glass, and metal.

Thought and effort were put into creating homemade centerpieces. My family, friends, and relatives all contributed to making the tables look fabulous. 

Grandpa

This week has been difficult. My Grandpa Herb passed away. I've struggled with how to convey this, but I can't simply gloss over it. I have been shielded from death for much of my life. I've only been to three funerals in my life, two in the last three months. This is a strange sort of grief. It's the kind that leaves me baking a big pan of mac and cheese at 9 PM just because I want some. It's the kind that finds my whole family lingering around a grave site in the cold. Tears are abundant, but there are also pockets of laughter and joy, celebrating a life well lived.

Today in Sunday School, we were asked to sum up our current attitude in one word and discuss it with those at our table. Obviously, many words floated through my mind, but one word rose to the top. I realized that I am grateful.

I am grateful for the 700+ people that waited in that long line at the visitation to greet my family and give tribute to Grandpa. Whenever I went anywhere with Grandpa, inevitably there would be people who knew him. As I was standing in the church, I realized that these are all of those people that we stopped and talked to.

I am grateful for the opportunity to hear all of the stories those people shared, stories of generosity, humility, and leadership. I learned that Grandpa was never hesitant to give, even when the recipient was undeserving or unappreciative. When you made mistakes, Grandpa was the one that you could come back to no matter what. Grandpa was in leadership on school boards, church boards, the 4-H fair board, the homeowners association, and others I'm sure. One man who served with Grandpa on a few boards said that you always knew things were going to get done when Herb was on the board. Grandpa owned the Farm Center for 40 years, but the business closed in the early 90's. I met many of his former employees, even an employee that was let go. What a testament to his leadership. Who attends the funeral and has only positive remarks of a boss that fired them 25 years ago? The stories were abundant and an incredible blessing.

I am grateful to be a part of his family. As I have gotten older, I have learned that this family is unique and wonderful. We depend on each other, help each other, and love each other well.

I am grateful to have been his granddaughter. What an honor it was to be his granddaughter. Even though Grandpa was involved in so many other areas, he succeeded in making each grandchild feel special. His mantra, after all, was that family comes first. Many people say that, but he actually lived it. Some of my fondest memories are sitting on the picnic tables at the upper deck of the Overholt Arena watching the Bulls and Barrels competitions. We'd guess the scores of the eight second rides, and debate the accuracy of the judges. I loved going to any rodeo with him, but the little Overholt rodeos were my favorite. The annual family retreat was always an incredibly fun and special time, and Grandpa made that happen. For our birthdays, he and Grandma took us out to eat anywhere we wanted. When I went off to college, I appreciated his regular phone calls where he was "just checkin in." He always reminded me that he and Grandma prayed for me and my cousins every morning at breakfast. Grandpa enjoyed leather work, and one year, he made me a leather picture of my horse, Clyde. It was so meaningful.

I am grateful for the opportunity to carry on Grandpa's legacy. It's not only an opportunity; it is a responsibility.


Elkhart Truth article

Goshen News article

Holiday Smash-Up

Currently, my inner pessimist is tweaking. I want to report that the holidays were marvelous; time with all of our families was completely enjoyable; and we are closer than we ever were. But I'm a fan of the honest, hard truth and that's just not it.

The truth is Kb and I were cold and made biting remarks to each other as we got ready and packed the car. He wished me good luck as we walked in. And on the drive back home, we were frustrated and hurt.

Being family is difficult sometimes. The problem is that I don't know how to fix it; I can't fix it. So for now, we just pray.

But not all of our family time was humdrum. We had an awesome time catching up with cousins, laughing at comedy sketches, and playing games.

We made copious amounts of food.

We gave gifts.

And we received gifts.

Kb was especially excited about this gift. We were living in the dark ages with an old-fashioned tv. Not anymore! Look out 21st century; we have arrived!

For New Year's Eve we decided to decline a couple of invites and just hung out at home. I'm a homebody, it's true. Plus, Kb offered to get pizza. We ordered it online and customized the pizza, meat lovers on his half, ham and black olives on my half. But when Kb returned with our order, he had two pizzas. Apparently, they ran out of large and instead, gave us two medium size pizzas. Who says marriage requires compromise?!

 
Unfortunately, the greasy pizza and the gooey peanut butter bars that I made proved too much for me. I went to bed well before midnight with a tummy ache. Lame-o.

But before I turned in, Kb and I talked about our goals for 2013. Watch out people, we're steppin out and taking chances, and we're gonna have a rockin year!

Cowboy Christmas

Once again, the highlight of Christmas was the Maust gathering. This year something was different about the day. The air was heavier and tears slipped out easier.

This is likely Grandpa's last Christmas.

In his honor, we had a cowboy Christmas. We donned our plaid and pearl snaps. Aunt Ronda's home was decorated with belt buckles, cowboy boots, and all things western. We ate ham and beans and cornbread out of cast iron skillets. We unwrapped a gingerbread barn kit, a pair of work gloves, and the Angry Birds: Western Round-up game. We played euchre. We lingered longer than usual.

No one said it out loud, but it was on everyone's heart. We treasure this time. And no one wants it to end.

The Kiddos' Surprise Visit

My great aunt and uncle from Oregon spent the day at my parent's house yesterday. Kb and I made a point of stopping by because well, Kb would love to visit Oregon sometime and we've heard about their cabin near the ocean.  When I got there, I went into the living room and about fell on my booty when two kids jumped out of the closet. It was my crazy cousins from Ohio! What a surprise! Our short visit turned into an all-day play date.

These kids are fun and hilarious. We always have a good time when they stop by. We played soccer, rode horse, and competed in a rousing game of spoons! By 8 PM, Kb and I were exhausted, but the kids weren't! Clearly, we are not ready to be parents.

Actually, Kb was wiped out way before 8 PM. He's got a crazy work schedule and he does not get much free time. He wasn't prepared to spend the day trying to keep up with a couple of kiddos. Even still, he played soccer with the boy until it was dark outside. I love that. Kids need bigger kids/adults to play with them. Outside. Away from the tv.

Family Retreat Weekend/Day

Around this time every year my dad's family gets together for the Family Retreat Weekend. The whole family overtakes a B & B or hotel for a weekend. It is my grandparent's Christmas gift to us all. The last couple of years, the family has enjoyed That Pretty Place in Shipshewana. There's a pond for fishing, wooded trails, enough land for the kids to get tuckered out, and enough indoor space for all of us to hang out during inclement weather.

This year, things were a little bit different. Grandpa has spent some time in the hospital, and he is currently in a rehab facility. It was decided that the Family Retreat Weekend be cancelled.

But hard times can't keep us apart. So in lieu of a family weekend, we held a family day, and Grandpa was able to join us for part of the day. We began the day at my cousin's for brunch and indoor games and ended the day with a campfire dinner and outdoor games at my aunt and uncle's. In true family style, in addition to wonderful meals, we succeeded in grazing on fantastic food all day. Good thing there was plenty of activity to work off the excess calories. A family run/walk and some intense games of volleyball and bocche ball were enjoyed.

Most of all, it's so great to catch up with my cousins and aunts and uncles. We swap stories and laugh and cry together. This family is uniquely wonderful. Almost everyone lives around here, except a few who traveled from Kansas and Oklahoma. We all love Jesus. No one is divorced or estranged, and we genuinely care deeply for one another.

In an unfortunate twist of fate, this is the only picture that ended up on my camera.

Yep, poor lighting to boot.  I suppose it's proof that there was a little crazy mixed in.

I Saw The Light

My parents have pretty great talents. My mom has an eye for decorating. She's got that cute, crafty, country-chic style that is the shiz around these parts. And my dad, well, he can create most anything and fix most everything. Together, they're a creative force to be reckoned with.

But there are a few aspects of their home that are lacking that creative inspiration. The creamish-white walls, for example. My mom is convinced that all of the walls in the house must be white. It makes the room seem bigger, apparently. I think it's boring, but perhaps, someday I will comprehend her white-walled wisdom.

Another aspect is that darn fluorescent kitchen light. it's nightmare worthy. My parents have lived in that house since before my brother was born and that light has been a permanent fixture, unfortunately. It seems to be one of those things that you become so accustomed to that you don't even realize the ugliness.

Until, my mom perused a certain Pottery Barn magazine. She was taken by what she saw and enlisted my dad in helping her make her new kitchen light dreams come true.

Dad accepted the challenge. He found an old slab of wood from the barn and gathered electrical supplies. We yearned for the day when fluorescent tubes could be a distant memory.

Tada!

 

Wow!  Great job mom and dad!

A Throwback and a Shout-out

At one time during its evolution, Facebook had a section on every profile for "notes." I suppose it served as a mini-blog, a space to keep a collection of thoughts and the option to "post" them. Now and then, I utilized the "notes" section, but when I graduated from college there was a push to get rid of most everything from your profile for fear that future employers would not approve. Hence, I deleted my "notes" from my profile.

I hid them away in a Word document for a brighter day.

Here's one that I stumbled upon today, circa 2008.

It’s still here

About a year and a half ago, I asked God to teach me about His love. Perhaps a strange request, but I hadn’t really experienced (or allowed myself to experience) much love in my life. If possible, I desired to somehow grasp and understand a taste of this immense love.

Not long after, God answered that prayer. And it was answered in a big way that I never expected, and it was amazing. But, unfortunately, that’s gone now. And honestly, it has left me heartbroken. Though I may not understand God's purpose in the situation, I’ve learned that even though that is gone, love is not gone.

A couple months ago, every time that I would read the Bible or approach God in prayer, I would cry. And I couldn’t make it through worship in church without tearing up, trying my best to hide the sniffles so as to somehow avoid awkward stares and questions. I didn’t know why I cried; it seemed silly. I didn’t understand why drawing near to God caused me to all of the sudden become ridiculously emotional.

But then one day I got it; I was being hit square in the face with God’s colossal, competent, and life giving love, and I couldn't handle it. It was so big that the only possible response was tears…at my inadequacy, shortcomings, and the overcoming power and grace that is God. So now I welcome that overpowering intimacy and thirstily soak it in.

Today I went to my cousin’s graduation ceremony. Though it may not be the most exciting thing, I always look forward to time spent with my extended family. They’re truly a blessing from God, the most genuine, caring, and accepting people I know. They are amazing, and often I feel unworthy to even be a part of them. Lately, though, when I have been around my cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, I’ve been forced to fight back tears that collect in the corners of my eyes. I didn’t understand why; it's so silly. They're all happy people. But it happened again today. After the ceremony, amidst all the pictures with the graduate, hugs, and questions about life, I was battling those nonsensical tears.

While walking through the parking lot toward the car, I told my mom that being around the family just makes me want to cry. She simply responded, “It’s because they love you.”

Oh yeah. I shoulda known (and when did my mom become so wise??). It’s them reflecting God’s unconditional, perfect love and encompassing me in it. It’s huge; it’s alive; it’s everywhere. And, praise the Lord, despite my mistakes and foolishness, it’s still here.

Funny that I was just realizing that my mom is wise.  And this being Mother's Day, that's where I'd like to camp out.

My mom is incredible. She has somehow managed to do it all. She kept the house clean, raised my brother and I, drove us to all of our activities and events, cooked dinner, and made sure pretty flowers surrounded the house every summer, all while working full time. She's selfless and gracious, kind and generous.


I don't live at my parent's house anymore, and I don't get to see or talk to my mom as much as I used to. I miss it. I feel us crossing that realm of parent and child and becoming friends.

She's is an incredible example that I hope to live up to. Thanks mom.  

Dandelions

Spring. The word beckons forth images of bunnies, flowers and baby chicks. But for the Maust's, spring is all about the dandelions. Our annual dandelion gravy and fat cake meal is held at around this time every spring. I've previously mentioned the awesome Maust traditions and this is perhaps one of the stranger ones.

This year, I was not prepared for the early arrival of warm temps. But Grandma was! She picked the dandelions at the peak of freshness three weeks prior to our get-together and had to freeze them until we were ready to cook the meal.

The dandelions get chopped up and mixed into a creamy gravy with hard-boiled eggs and bacon. We eat the gravy over potatoes. For new in-laws or those who have some sort of aversion to dandelions, sausage gravy is also served. There are always a tasty variety of side dishes as well.

 (In the upper right is the sausage gravy.)

And then, just as you're contemplating having seconds (or thirds) you remember that there is dessert.  Earlier in the day, the ladies make hot cakes, which are like plain doughnuts. We dip them in real, pure maple syrup. Real maple syrup is pricey so we savor every drop.

It seems every year around the table, we discuss how this tradition got started. And every year no one really knows. I reckon, it somehow stemmed from my grandma, a product of the great depression. Regardless, it's sweet time spent with family, relishing in tradition.

Spew

Kb and I went out tonight. I had been looking forward to it all week. Our date nights generally consist of grocery shopping, frozen pizza, and maybe a Redbox. We may be lame, but I just love being with my man. And we're poor newlyweds.

Tonight, however, we hit up Taco Bell, lured by the new Dorito taco.

                                


Just as Kenny was finishing up my food (he's the cure to my eyes-are-bigger-than-my-stomach syndrome), I noticed a young boy sitting with his grandparents.

The boy abruptly stood up, took two hurried steps, and spewed all over the floor. Yes, he threw up his ever-lovin Taco Bell. The grandparents leaped into action. Grandma pushed her napkin up against his mouth and ushered him toward the bathrooms. Grandpa grabbed several handfuls of napkins and soaked up the spew, quietly discarding the evidence.

At this point, I looked around. No one had noticed.  And Grandpa wasn't telling anybody.

Are you kidding me? Isn't there a socially appropriate protocol for this sort of situation? Like, alert the cleaning crew, perhaps?

I was beginning to regret that Dorito taco. Kb, on the other hand, was just thankful that he had not seen it and could enjoy my leftovers in peace. He did wonder if we were on that "What Would You Do?" show.  Surely not; that much spew could not be staged.

Meanwhile, Grandpa went back to eating, incoming patrons walked across the ground that was moments before defiled, and the young boy returned to the table with his Grandma. Not only did he return to the table, he immediately started shoving food in his mouth.

Oy. That was our cue to move on out.  Off to Aldi's we went!

PS. Reviews on the Dorito taco are in and the votes are split:
I enjoyed it. Normally, I prefer a soft shell, but if I'm going with a hard shell, I'll make it a Dorito.
Kb was unimpressed. He thinks "it tastes flaky, as in fake." He was disappointed that he could not "capture the taste of the Dorito."