dog coat

I've been working on a green blouse lately. But I've taken several week-long breaks because I get to a point where I know I'm gonna get frustrated and I need to just slow down, take my time, and enjoy making this shirt. So...during this last break I made a coat for Drake. Now before you all start judging me, let me say a couple of things:
1. I will not and do not make our dog wear clothes. He just gets cold, so when it's really cold outside he wears a little jacket and that is all.
2. I refuse to waste money on animals. People who buy like organic dog food, made from 100% filet mignon and fresh vegetables are crazy ridiculous. So this jacket I made...I made it from left over fleece (from a project from 6 years ago...have I ever mentioned I practically save everything?) and a skirt that I bought at Salvation Army on half off day for $2.50.

Please ignore the brown fuzz on our carpet, Drake likes to rip his bed apart and our vacuum doesn't pick it up very well. When you're limited to "vacuuming" your carpet by hand, it happens a lot less often.

I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out.
It's not perfect; there are some obvious flaws. And I would have like to have used a different color velcro, but that's what I had, so whatever.  It's good enough for us.

injustice

We were watching Grey's Anatomy.
The doctor approached the mother and said, "It's time to just hold him. He's going, and you need to hold him."
The mother proceeded to hold her 10 year old son as his life slipped between their fingers.
I cried.
I really really cried.
It wasn't fair.
I didn't just cry because the TV show was sad.
I cried because I know that story is very real to someone. To many.
I know that situations just like that one occur numerous times every day.
No mother should have to hold their dying child.
It's just not fair.

And that moment of crying has had me thinking the past couple of days.
About what's "fair."
(And also, that my heart is much too compassionate to be watching Grey's Anatomy)
About all the injustice in our world.
The people dying from preventable diseases.
The children left for dead.
The people with no access to clean water.
The children in India with no opportunities in life simply because of where they are in the social system; because they are the offspring of a prostitute.
Human trafficking.
Slavery.
Child Labor.
Genocide.
The LRA.
There are so, so many.

It has made me angry.
Just flat. out. angry.

It's like when you hear the statistic, "10 billion would provide clean water to all, worldwide." Which sounds like a lot.
10. billion. dollars.
Then this is added to that statistic: "Americans spend 450 billion every year at Christmas."
And then that 10 billion dollars doesn't seem so big.

And that makes me angry. I mean, can't we all just get together and one year simply give 25% of what we would spend on Christmas and get clean water to everyone? Clean water. To everyone. That's life. That's literally giving life to millions and millions of people. And it's so do-able.

It's so do-able that the fact that it hasn't been done makes me sick.
And so so angry.
This world we live in, it's disgusting.
And it's making me angrier and angrier by the day.

Yes, the problems are too big for one to handle.
But that doesn't mean I can't try.
I hope that when my time here is done, it can be said that I did something to stop injustice in this world.

i whip my hair

I've listened to Willow Smith's song "Whip My Hair" probably like 736 times today.
Some may say I have a mild obsession.
Some are also stupid. And not my friends.

Things I want to say after you watch that video:
a. My taste in music is kind of funny. Not even 5 posts ago I was raving about "The Civil Wars" and now here I am, loving "Whip My Hair"
b. Does this girl have style or WHAT?
c. Willow Smith is 9 people. She is 9!! Isn't she the cutest little thing? I just want to carry her around in my pocket. Eh, maybe she's a little too big for that. But I at least want her as my neighbor's daughter, and we would hang out all day.
d. My favorite parts are from 2:35ish-2:45ish and 2:51

But really, all I want to say about that video is this:
I. NEED. THIS. HAIRSTYLE.

Granted, I would have to tone it down just a little bit. Because I'm not awesome [read: confident] enough to totally rock it. I would have it a little shorter.
But yes. I most definitely need this hair.

mini deep dish pizzas

I think I should start asking for money in all my posts.
Cause apparently you all want to give me stuff.
So...lemme send my address along and you guys can send me some moolah. And by some, I mean a lot. Like pay for this month's rent please?
Deal?
Sweet.

(I'm not going to that concert, I really would only go for Ryan's sake. Because he loves concerts. And I don't really. So I'm always on the look out for ones that I would somewhat enjoy so we can go together. And turns out that concert was at a restaurant-type venue. So you have to pay the money to get in, and then you have to sit down and order food? What kind of concert is that? But I am on the look out for their next shows in Philly. I think they come here fairly often.)

Moving on.
I love to cook.
Okay. You caught me. Sometimes I love to cook. Other times, I walk to the corner and pick up a Chicken Parm grinder from Little John's Pizza.
I have two loves when it comes to cooking. Cooking. Not Baking. Because if it was baking...well, I have too many loves to count.

One: Pizza Dough.
Dude. You can do like, anything, with pizza dough. I love it. Plus it's only 99 cents at your local TJ's, so duh I'm gonna use it all the time. Oh and they sell regular, whole wheat and garlic herb. Fantastic.
[Is absolutely loving to eat pizza dough only a Sannes-sister trait? Ryan thinks I'm crazy but I could seriously eat a whole bag of the stuff.]

Two: My Cupcake Pan.
Now you're probably asking yourself, "Hold on a second, I thought baking was out the picture?" It is. I also cook with my cupcake pan. I mean, hello? What ISN'T cuter as a mini? Mini-lasagnas. Mini-meatloafs. [I know that should be loaves, but i don't approve of the word "meatloaves"] Mini-quiches. Mini-cakes. Oh wait. No baking, that's right. Anyways, the possibilities are nearly-limitless.

It was only a matter of time before I mixed my two cooking loves. This week, I made mini-deep dish pizzas. They were pretty good, but I already have ways to improve them for next time.

First I rolled out the dough. [The thinner the better] Then let it reach room temperature.

While the dough was warming I had chopped the "toppings" (mushrooms, onions, roasted red peppers and spinach) and sauteed the onions and spinach. I say "toppings" because they don't really end up on the top, so really they should be like middleings or something.
Then, this took several attempts, I filled each cupcake tin with pizza dough.

Cook for 10ish minutes at whatever temperature I felt like. 350? 375? 425? Eh, doesn't really matter.
(In the future, I will bake the dough a little first and then stuff the cups. I ended up having to hollow out a lot of the dough after baking)

Then I filled each pizza shell with sauce, toppings, cheese and spices.

Bake until the cheese is nice and golden on the edges.

Serve with a side salad, and voila! Delicious little dinner.

always rejoicing

I've started to read "Desiring God" by John Piper. I'm only 10 pages or so into it, so this is in no way a review of the book. When I was reading last night, a line struck me. A line taken from St. Paul.
Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.

Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.

Sorrowful. yet. always rejoicing.

I'm pretty certain that we are meant to be broken.
We are meant to have hearts that ache for the same things that ache God's heart.
We are meant to grieve and be sorrowful for those things.
We are meant to shed tears.

But that sorrow? It doesn't steal our joy.
The joy we find in the Lord.
We are to always be rejoicing.
Rejoicing in His never-ending mercy.
His never-ending blessings.
Always. Rejoicing.

Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.
It really is that simple.

talent. oh and give me some money please.

I was blog-creepin' last night. And thankfully I happened upon a blog that introduced me to "The Civil Wars."
Blog, meet one of the most talented musical duos I've ever heard.

The Civil Wars - Forget me not from Green Block on Vimeo.

I know claiming them as one of the most talented musical duos I've ever heard is a bit extreme. But seriously, did you just watch that video? That was just the two of them, with a guitar, strolling down the street and it sounded INCREDIBLE. A lot of people who are famous today for music, only happened upon that fame by chance; they have so little talent. Case in point: Ke$ha. Oh goodness, don't even get me started on the ridiculousness that is K-E-Money sign-Ha (shout out to Jenna for teaching me the best way to say Ke$ha's name)

The Civil Wars have a show in Philly this upcoming week. I was jazzed about it, because I don't typically "do" concerts. I told Ryan I would see Elton John in concert. And Owl City. Possibly Paramore. And that's about it. Last night I added these guys to my limited and oh-so-exclusive list. So I was bummed to find out tickets to the show were $20 per person. Which leads me to the point of this post... (not really, unless you are going to..then yes, this is the point of my post.)
Who wants to gift $40 to Ryan and I to go to the concert? Anyone, anyone? No? Thought so, it's okay. Ryan is gonna be spending the entire day/evening studying anyways.

Speaking of talented, (I like to pretend that I know how to relate this random tidbit of my life into this post, even though it has no business being here) I watched the most brilliant kid in the "nursery" today. He's 2 years old and he was reading, and writing, and spelling and...it was craziness. While all the other kiddos were sticking crayons in play-doh, he was working on his letters because he got bored. He looks up and says, "How do you spell 'clock'? Oh yes, C-L-O-C..." His next learning goal? Chinese.

puppy dog eyes

Look at what I just captured.

See? I told you so.

SEPTA. stinkin' stinkin' SEPTA.

I'm trying to push through this "uninspired lull" that I am having. But I'm kind of in a "sick of everyone" type of mood. And this puppy is frustrating me beyond belief, and then he just stares with these adorably pitiful puppy dog eyes and you can't help but fall in love with him all over again.

Annnnyways, a recent experience has left me with the feeling that I need to rant. Just get some stuff off my chest, and out into the internet world.

SEPTA.
Super Expensive and Prone to Traffic Accidents.
Sorriest Excuse for Public Transportation in America.
Not to be confused with septic, however they are very similar.

Okay, okay, SEPTA actually means South Eastern Pennslyvania Transit Authority. It's the way we get around out here in Philly. The trains. The buses. The subway. You know.

Let me just flat out say [in case you didn't it get it from my "other meanings"] that SEPTA sucks. Like really, really, really sucks. The buses and subways/subway stations stank. Like "ohmygosh, I'm going to die because not only have I been holding my breath for 2 minutes now but the smell is still seeping into my mouth and lungs." It is nassstay. I honestly feel like I'm traveling through the city in this

Why yes, this IS the most disgusting bathroom ever.

And then I get home and have to change my clothes almost immediately because they smell so nasty.

Also, SEPTA is practically always late. Like always, always, always. Oh, unless YOU are running 30 seconds late, then they are early. Like that one time Ryan and I left the house 1 MINUTE later than usual for church, and we missed our bus. The bus that we normally have to wait at least 6 minutes for. Sheeeesh.

So, I kinda hated SEPTA from the get-go just because I was spoiled with TheRapid in Grand Rapids. Not only is that the. best. bus. system. ever. with the sweetest drivers you can imagine but BONUS, I got to ride FO FREE! Thank you, Grand Valley State University. And you better believe I took advantage of those free rides. I actually won an iPod my junior year at GVSU for "the most rides saved" utilizing The Rapid. Go me. [P.S. That was like, the best day ever. I still talk about it all too often.] So yes. I was spoiled. Major spoiled.

But I still wanted to give SEPTA a fair shot. And they were doing eh...okaaay UNTIL the Philadelphia Marathon. Even typing that made my blood pressure spike. I'm not going to go into the whole story, but I will say that I checked SEPTA's website to be absolutely, positively 100% sure that the route we needed was still running. On top of that, before getting on the bus we asked the bus driver if he was going to be stopping at the stop we needed. Oh, suprise! Turns out no one knew what was going on and we ended up going in circles on this bus for over 3 hours out in the burbs. It was the pits. Like stinky armpits. Ew. SEPTA.

So onto my most recent grievance.
Last night, I needed to head out to Narbeth for a meeting with small group leaders and hosts. (Oh, Ryan and I are hosting a small group this semester at our apartment.) I look up what bus I need to take to get there, plan to be walking for a while on top of that, still leave myself 15 minutes of extra time AND an extra SEPTA token, just in case. [You never know when you're going to get stranded by SEPTA.] So I head on down to my bus stop, hop on the 44 and I'm on my way.
15 minutes go by.
25 minutes go by.
30 minutes go by.
An older lady comes up to me and says, "You don't mean to tell me I missed my stop!" And I looked at her, and I was like, "Uh. I have no idea where we are." She continues to walk to the front and talks to the bus driver; she finds out she got on the wrong bus. "Aww, poor lady," I think to myself.
45 minutes go by.
I'm about to be late to my meeting.
"Rock Valley will be the last stop. Thank you for riding SEPTA." comes out through the speakers.
The old lady looks at me. "I think I'm on the wrong bus as well," I say to her. She laughs, and laughs and laughs. "You were sitting there so quiet! Here I thought you were just being mean to me, but really we both were so lost!"
The bus driver informs us that there are 3 different "Route 44" routes, we both happened to get on the wrong one.

Did you hear that?
THREE DIFFERENT ROUTES WITH THE SAME STINKING NUMBER.
Who the heck does that?! OF COURSE, you are going to get people on the wrong bus...all the time! Especially when two of those three routes stop at the same stop!
Hey SEPTA, I have an idea! Name all your routes by the exact same number, and see how many confused customers you get. Fun game, right? Yeah, thought so, ya jerks.

So I just rode the bus back home to Center City, and sent yet another email to some of the church members apologizing for my SEPTA misfortunes.

At least I had that old lady on the bus with me, she was a crack up!

And SEPTA? I wish I could dump you. This relationship clearly isn't working. However, you are my only option. And I think you know that. Which is why you keep screwing with me, cause you know I have no where else to turn to. Suckers.

dog

I don't like to blog when I don't feel inspired to blog. When I don't have words that I want to share. Because then it feels forced. And it comes off as dull. That's no fun. So forgive me about my slightly lacking posts as of late...

We got a dog, as you saw in my latest you capture post.
He's a mutt, so we have no idea what to expect with him. But surprises are fun, right? Right?
His name is Drake. He was already named when we got him, but we thought about changing it. Picking a name that rhymed would be easy, because then he wouldn't have to relearn his name so much...Blake? Eww. Flake? Ha, you have got to be kidding me. Rake? Okay, then I was just getting silly. So then I suggested Duke. It was close enough to Drake that he would be able to 'make the change' fairly easily. But then I remembered Ryan's fondness for calling things dookie, so I knew Duke would quickly be called Dukie and that's a no-go. So then I thought, well, how about Harley? It's not at all like Drake, but I kind of like that name. And Ryan liked it to. So it was decided. Harley it is.

And then we met him. And he was a Drake. The name fits him well. So all that work for nothing. Sigh, my life is so hard.

I've been trying for over a week now to get a good picture of the little guy to introduce him to the blogworld properly. But after several photoshoots, with results like these:

I was quickly losing hope. Luckily for you, I didn't give up [Luckily for Drake as well, because he clearly loooves my photoshoots.] However, I really don't think the pictures that I did manage to get his face in capture him well. He is quite the goofy little guy. Like, I wish I could have gotten a picture of him with his big dopey ears. We love his big ears! He typically has one sticking up and one folded over. Cutest thing ever? Pretty much. He also has some pretty great puppy dog eyes, and boy does he know how to work 'em. But of course, he won't let me capture them, so you'll just have to trust me on that.

He's also such a cuddler. We spend our morning snuggled up on the couch. I would take pictures of that, but duh, I'm a little busy snuggling with a puppy. And that's way better than ticking him off with my camera. Actually, it's way better than most things I can think of to fill my morning with.

We (or I, depending on how much school work Ryan has) take him to the dog park everyday. He is brave enough to run up to the big dogs and get them interested in him, but still too much of a wuss that as soon as a dog notices him he runs back and quivers behind my legs. And then I have these huge dogs running over and crashing into me. Thank you, Drake.

So...that's Drake! Consider yourself introduced to the blogworld, pup!

Also, today at the dog park, I saw a dog climb a tree.
A dog.
Climbed a tree.
It was nuts. And she was supposed to do it, her owner had her trained to. And every so often, she would just run over and climb it, and you look over and see her little face peaking through the branches. I was seriously like, "Uh...is this really happening?"

red

The You Capture theme of the week was red. I captured plenty of red things, but in the end, I only really liked a few of the pictures. Which is fine, my purpose in participating in You Capture is so that I take my camera out and use it more often.

His and hers red shoes

pretty red recipe box

Red collar for the cutest little puppy, the newest addition to our family

Our apartment has pretty lousy lighting. I get about 15 minutes of sunlight in here everyday, and that's it. I've decided that for my next You Capture, I'm going to be much more proactive with taking my photos outside. That, or I'm really going to learn how to get good pictures on my camera without a flash. I know how to increase the exposure (not sure if that's the right technical term) so that the photo is lighter but it still turns out blurry without a flash. Maybe my assignment for next week will be to do both.

some days

Before you start: 

Don't get me wrong, I am THRILLED for those who are in Uganda. Please join me in lifting up Lovelyn and her group, along with their families, during their trip. Also, Dewey and Deb, who were fellow volunteers, who have headed back to work in the Kampala baby home for a few weeks as well. My friend, Anna, has returned from South Africa, but please continue to lift her up as adjusting to being back can be hard.

Also, I recieved permission from Lovelyn to use her pictures in this post.

A few months ago, I was invited to join, Lovelyn (who I was "introduced" to through my friend Anna, who I blogged about here) on a 2-week trip to Uganda. A trip filled with volunteering at various babies homes, feedings, and working with Katie, the "Amazima" girl. Naturally, my heart stopped beating. [duh]

But really, I think I started crying as I read the email. My heart, my sad and aching heart, was beyond thrilled. And then, almost as quickly as my heart started to soar, my hopes were dashed when my brain caught up and was like, "Oh hey. You don't have a couple thousand dollars just laying around, remember?" And I was like, "Shut up, you jerkface. I hate you."
So yes, I had to turn down the opportunity. Which killed me.

The group that I would have been joining is in Uganda right now.
They went to Watoto yesterday, the babies home in Kampala and the villages. The woman who invited me posted a few pictures on her blog of her and the group at the babies home, holding little precious rescued ones. And she posted this picture, which she took out in one of the Watoto villages.

 Look at "my" little Alex! She sure has grown, but is still just as cute! (Watoto has enacted some child privacy rules, so names and stories are no longer allowed to be shared, however Alex's story was featured on their website, so I'm allowed to use her name.) My first day at the baby home, I spent most the day holding Alex. She was the first one whose name I learned. I also quickly learned how much she hated eating pumpkin :)

It's soooo good to see pictures like that. Knowing that those beautiful little ones are being raised in a family, loving Jesus and going to school. Seeing the endless possibilities their futures hold, it's wonderful.

But at the same time, pictures like that can bring me crashing down. I see and hear stories all the time of people headed back to Uganda, people who have stayed there for months, and months, and months. Years even. I hear the stories of how fabulously fashioned God's plan is for their lives. I see them loving on those big-eyed brown faced children, and my heart aches.

And I can't help but think, 'Why not me?'

I know God's plan for me is good. I know that my life has tremendous purpose and meaning. I know God sees the desires of our hearts. But sometimes, just sometimes, it really doesn't feel that way. Sometimes, I just wonder why I'm here and not there. I feel like I'm doing nothing here. My presence is of so little value in this stupid city. I can't even get a dang job. No one wants to hire me. Not even Target. Not even Starbucks. STARBUCKS PEOPLE.
I thought I had it figured out, I thought I knew why I was here and not there.
But that plan didn't work out.

So I'm just left here.
Looking at pictures of what could be.

Do you ever just feel....forgotten?
I know God doesn't EVER forget his children, and I know I'm being kind of silly.
But really, sometimes, having faith is really hard. Trusting in a plan that you cannot see is really hard. My high school mentor, who has since turned into a trusted and faithful friend, once described God's plan as a huge mosaic puzzle. You know those ones where you have to slide the little squares all over the place until you get the final picture just right? And a lot of times you have to temporarily put a piece where it doesn't belong, so that the other pieces can find their home. I imagine God in the sky, working on this huge mosaic plan, sliding pieces all over so that eventually, everything will be in the right spot, just the way it's supposed to be. Each one of us represents a small piece in this large mosaic. Sometimes, we have to be swept over to the corner even though we know, we just know, we're meant to be in the middle. And we're like, "HEY! What about ME? I don't want to be over here! I'm a middle piece, remember?!" And God's all, "Oh hey. I run the universe. I know how to do this dang puzzle, and for now that's where I've put you. Trust me." Except He's probably a bit more eloquent than that, He is God for pete's sakes.

And I'm trying really hard to be content where I am. I purposefully read 1 Timothy the other day for my devotions, just so I could read 1 Timothy 6:6 "Yet true godliness with contentment is itself great wealth"

Some days are just harder than others.