Butter and Rest: Accidentally Good for You (my bad.)

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So I got a free treadmill off of Craigslist and didn’t even get killed.

Fine, technically I sent the Beloved to pick it up, so if anyone was going to get Craigslist-killed, it would have been him (three cheers for patriarchy and headship! Can I get a witness??), but let’s not get distracted. The point is that a couple weeks ago, I took up daily walking to nowhere. Incidentally, for the curious among you who also know me rather well by now, yes, I named the treadmill and yes, it is named the Road to Nowhere. It faces the garage door, so I can give myself the illusion of walking straight into rush hour traffic each morning, or, if I aim my sight a little higher, into a beautiful field and tree line. Walk according to your mood, I say.

I like it, actually. I play about with intervals (pretend I am being chased by feminists, then pretend alternately that I am the one chasing, which slows the drama down considerably) and listen to audiobooks (heads up: Same Page Summer Bible Reading Challenge is starting soon! Are you joining me or what?? https://biblereading.christkirk.com/) and theological debates and generally make a sweaty mess of myself. And the thing is, I am not pretty when exercising. My workout clothes are generally just things I have deemed too ugly or worn out to wear in real life, and while I obviously knew at least vaguely what I looked like this morning when I decided to do housework after my walk to the great unknown, it wasn’t until I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that I was vacuuming beneath that I was gripped with regret over how I was likely traumatizing my children simply by being seen…

Bright blue lacy bra under a worn out yellow and white striped tank that wasn’t really hiding enough about that monstrosity, hair still mashed up on one side from apparently having slept without moving all night, sunburned face, sweat shorts that were in fact sweaty… I must have burned an extra 250 calories just from the leaping away from the mirror that I instinctively engaged in (suffice to say, no treadmill has seen me move that fast yet). In that moment, I had 3 choices:

  1. Pause and go get cleaned up, thus sparing the Quail further psychological trauma.
  2. Push on with the vacuuming and assume that I am simply ensuring the financial stability of an entire generation of shrinks.
  3. Remain horrifying, and go write on the blog.

So here we are, and I have a humdinger of a Sabbath breakfast recipe for you today (yes, it has been awhile. If you are new here, or simply cannot remember what the heck these themed posts are all about, then grab an extra cup of coffee and type “butter and rest” into the handy dandy search feature that the Superior Nephew made with his bare hands, just for you, and get caught up a bit). Allow me to clarify — yes, I am offering you an absurdly healthy recipe today, but it has nothing to do with treadmills or trying to get you to cut back on sugar or any other such rot. I am offering it to you because EVERY SINGLE QUAIL not only ate it, but asked for more. And then ate it cold the next day for a snack. This, people, is magic. I have made it 3 times in 14 days.


Sadly, I can’t make this little link thingy embed, so do me a solid and click on her website, ok? I have become recently fascinated by Bojon Gourmet (currently working on writing about why in another place), because her stuff is almost bizarrely tasty. Most attempts I have found of making overtly healthy baked goods never let you forget that they are healthy; they have icky aftertastes or unpleasant textures, so while there were doubtlessly excellent intentions behind creating viable options for those who need to or want to cut grains and sugars and everything else that makes baking fun, the end result leaves you thinking that you probably would have been better off just gnawing raw oats in the corner.

This gal is different.

This crisp makes a delightful Sabbath breakfast, especially with a dollop of something on top (if you live near a Trader Joe’s, they have a new vanilla creme fraiche that rocks on the side of this crisp) and maple sausage or bacon on the side. It is good warm, with ice cream, or cold with a bit of Greek yogurt. I like to prepare it the night before and bake it on Sunday morning; it makes the house smell heavenly (and do let’s recall what is happening when you go to worship the Lord — you are taken up, worshiping alongside the heavens and their hosts, the entire Church, worldwide and throughout the ages, singing praises to Him. How totally appropriate could this meal be in preparation??)

Ok. It is probably time I tackled taking a shower. Blessings on your worship and rest, y’all.

3 Responses

  1. Ellen
    | Reply

    If I may be as so bold, I would like to suggest you change the name of the treadmill (which, in your family, may actually require a legal template from the interwebs and a trip to the County Courthouse. So sorry.). The Road to Nowhere, although a possibly geographically moniker accurate in terms of position in your home, is a fairly defeating subliminal message. After all, you ARE on a journey of fitness and, likely, weight loss. So that is definitely going SOMEWHERE awesome. (Insert encouraging applause.) I proffer alternates: Endless Journey, Rocky Road (this is not a judgement on your technique, rather a genuine motivation that at the end of said routine you could end up with your friends Ben & Jerry near the freezer), or, my favorite based on my own experience: The Road Less Traveled.
    P.S. I was actually gearing up (is that a treadmill pun? or are there none?) to do Same Page Summer Reading on my treadmill, too! Looking forward to compare the roadsides & scenery!
    P.P.S. Superior Nephew added 2 new clicky boxes after the name submission section, I see — Woo Hoo! I checked both, eager to see what mail this will generate.

    • barb
      | Reply

      Your optimism is flooring, if not borderline exhausting. Lose weight from exercising?? Ha! Not in my lifetime! And the message is hardly subliminal, it is overtly ironic! To my great delight, it was my Boy Quail who first observed the humor in the situation of briskly trotting for 35 minutes and ending up exactly where you started, plus a hint of plantar fasciitis. I have adopted it as the mission of my life to nurture young minds that will think exactly like mine (Bwahahahaha!) and I took it as a tremendous milestone along that journey. 😉 Also, Charles Spurgeon, John Calvin, and Matthew Henry all spelled it “judgement”. I just thought you were being brilliant.

  2. Ellen
    | Reply

    P.P.P.S. Judgment not judgement. Yikes….I know, like nails on a chalkboard. Sorry for bringing down the caliber of this blog. [Can Superior Nephew enable an edit feature for comment posters? Of course, that would allow me to delete my ramblings in their entirety, something to which I should give considerable thought!]

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