Makin' Risotto

Oh, why is my camera broken? I could have had all kinds of cool pictures of my first time making risotto! Instead, you get me turning it into a little life lesson of sorts.

See, risotto's one of those things I've always wanted to try but knew I wouldn't have the patience to actually make. I like the concept of risotto, with all its creamy goodness, and I'm fascinated by the idea that the arborio rice continues to absorb more and more liquid, a little at a time. How do you know when it's reached saturation point? What happens then? Soup? Can it just absorb forever?

The other thing that's scared me off is that I'm an incredibly impatient cook. It's what makes candy making tough for me. I just don't want to wait the extra minute or two until it reaches soft ball stage. I always end up saying, "Look, it's close enough. I'm taking it off the heat," generally with disastrous results. So with risotto, I was afraid I'd say, "Eh, close enough. The liquid's absorbed; time to add more."

Then the OCD part of me kicked in: what if it could absorb just a little further? How do you know when it's still liquid and when it's creamy? Look at me: champion over-thinker. That's how I roll.

I got brave, forced myself to be patient, and started cooking. The results of the patience were so worth it: I have creamy, cheesy yumminess to eat as leftovers for a while, and I had a very satisfying supper. Anika Istilart, if you ever read this blog, I'll make you some to compensate for all those awful meals last July when we were both trying to use up the food in our freezers.

Patience is good. In cooking and in life.

Tender Mercies

Neal A. Maxwell, an apostle of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, said something years ago about God being in the details. David A. Bednar, a current apostle, gave a talk several years ago about noticing God's tender mercies. That's what this entry is: a testimony of tender mercies, specifically about my house sale that has yet to happen.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the Nauvoo temple, feeling like I needed to come to some sort of peace about the house selling process. Maybe I wouldn't know exactly what was going on timing-wise, but I needed some peace. I got that peace, and I came home feeling good. That night, though (a Saturday), I felt like I needed to figure out what to do about my realtor-- should I keep her? Should I plan on finding a new one once the current contract runs out in April? So that's what I prayed about that night before bed: clarity about my realtor.

Sunday morning, my realtor texted me that a neighbor had called saying the storm door had been blown off the front of the house. I burst into tears and had another prayer. I felt peace, and I felt like I needed to call the neighbor down the street who specializes in home repair for old houses. Couldn't do anything else until I heard from him, so I went on with my day. There was a point during Sacrament meeting that I wondered whether I should go home and check my phone for messages. Then I thought, "Nope, this is where I'm supposed to be. Things will work out somehow."

Came home from church, got the report on the storm door. I should note here that just before I closed on the house five years ago, a similar incident happened, ripping up the door frame. I just repaired that damage when I put the house on the market in June. I anticipated similar damage this time. The door had been blown open, but no damage to the door frame. All that happened was the glass cracked. My neighbor had connections with Morgantown Glass, so all was good.

Yesterday, the neighbor called again, saying, "Hey, I just fixed your storm door. The glass wasn't broken after all." That's right-- the glass wasn't broken. All that happened was the glass got knocked out of the frame and the frame was dented a little. He said I was lucky. I know otherwise. Heavenly Father was watching out for my house.

He was also answering my prayer about the realtor, because she really kicked into gear and made sure everything was okay at the house. I still have no idea when the house will sell, but for the first time since June, I can really accept that God's timing is working, not mine. I am not in charge, I am not in control. I'm okay with that. God knows what He's doing.