It’s a perfect day. The morning dawned, fresh and clear, and cool enough for a summer cardigan. By afternoon, the sun was hot on my face as I walked around the block.
It’s a sad sort of day, too. Sad because Ryan flew away, far away, and this time it’s for keeps. He’ll [prayerfully] find a perfect spot to plant our little family, and then I’ll join him, along with our stuff.
It’s not just sad, of course. It’s exciting, too. I confess at times to being a wimp, and that hinders excitement. But when I’m looking at the future in light of the Lord’s gracious hand, I know that leaving my secure little world is okay.
And besides, I don’t ever want to be a wimp. “We must never lose our sense of adventure in the Lord.” (I think Andrew Eastmond said that.)
Now begins the chore of packing up. And closing bank accounts, making a last run to the dry cleaners, canceling mail boxes, changing addresses, oh yeah — calling doctors and accountants and…
Here we go!
On another note, I’ve had French toast on the brain for weeks. And I don’t know about you, but if I get a hankerin’ for a certain food, it doesn’t go away until I’ve tasted that food. So tonight, home alone, I fired up my stove and whisked up some eggs and made myself some toast.
And it was good.
Growing up, we always dunked a slice of bread in the egg mixture, flipped it, and put it on the griddle. However, I recently read directions that I thought might result in the rich, flavorful toast I was so craving. Here’s my new favorite breakfast (or dinner):
3/4 c milk
1 T sugar
1/2 t cinnamon
1/4 t nutmeg
1-2 t vanilla
Whisk. Cut old Italian bread into generous 1″ slices and lay in baking dish. Pour egg mix over bread. Let soak for 5-10 min; flip, and let soak again. Fry in buttered pan until golden brown on both sides.
Thick and pudding-ish texture, with plenty of nutmeg for this girl who’s obsessed with it. Of course, I ate mine swimming in maple syrup. Extra mmmm.
Does everyone else know that soaking trick? ‘Cause I love it.
You would, too. I just know it.