Eh, hem. 2011.

Tomorrow is it--the last day of the year. I am excited to say GOOD-BYE and I usually hate good-bye's. While there were many good things in 2010, I'm ready for this year to be over. I think there were too many things I didn't do in 2010. Too many times I didn't write an idea down and flesh it out. Too many times I wished to have stayed a little longer. Too many times I didn't pay attention. Too many times I felt too slow, too encumbered, too inward. Oddly enough I felt this country's deficit reflected in my own...except hopefully on a much smaller scale:-). I am not meaning to be a Debbie Downer, because on the other hand, 2011. I want to stay with things awhile. I want to write about the lacking pattern in love. We think, "Oh, this is what I love, and how I love it, and why I love it," but then there's the very grand entrance of changing our minds. And I kinda really love that luxury. I wanna make a poem about my husband's first boyhood job at 11...delivering The Knickerbocker newspaper in Troy, New York. I think it's just the best thing that there was a newspaper called The Knickerbocker and this skinny, little 11-year-old felt so big and independent having his first job. He and his brother used the newspaper money to buy fat, salami sandwiches on Friday's at the corner store near their home. His life was far from Norman Rockwell, but the picture Ess Gee creates as a boy is quite close. I want to write about evangelical Christianity, the beginning years when it reared it's head, and why it might have come out as the creature it is/was, and why it is so rebelled against now by those who never believed in it, and by those who once did. The culture of the time--60's/70's--had taken on such extremities compared to the decade before, why would not a faith do the same? I have been on a wonderful, lopsided ride reading about the life of Alfred Hitchcock. One book called Spellbound by Beauty tells about Hitchcock's relationships with all his blond headed leading ladies. He meticulously made them. He knew the color they should wear, the shoe they would put on, and the exact blond they should be. He commanded these details, BUT he knew the strongest element in his films would be the psychology of such details. He learned from silent German films that image was story. Yes, yes, snippets of things to come.
Welcome 2011. I hope to treat you kindly, with warmth, good regard, the patience of Father Time. And I hope to be treated the same;-).

Like/Love Lists.

I don't think I've sat down and just wrote out the things I like/love in such a very long time. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I might as well begin.

I love Anne Lamott. She is a cheerleader, although most likely every bit of her would cringe at being compared to one.

I like this qoute by Sally Fields when she was talking about being on stage during her high school years...she said, "Here is where I lost myself and found me." I think North Carolina has been my stage.

I love the rebelliousness of leaves. Yesterday when I was mowing the lawn, the lawn mower went over leaf after leaf, grinding them up underneath itself, unrecognizable...and then out of the corner of my eye, there falls another one right into the path I just cleared. It made me smile. They never give up.

I love my nieces. One is a songwriter, complete with the written phonetics of her hummings. Daaah dah da, da, dahhh. The other would charm a fly to a swatter.

I love little girls who hold on to you as you leave and do not want to let you go, who give you colored paper turkey's to hang on your refrigerator.

I love a little boy who admires the soldier that your husband is, showing every army fatique item that he is very proud of.

I love friends that stick out EVERY eetie, bittie thing with you throughout many, many years, and still like you and still like your family. That's grace, man. There's no other way to explain that one.

I love prayers that end with, "and the bottomline, no matter what, may we love and serve one another well, despite any circumstance. Let me know that on my end, I-loved-well."

I love husband's that still really want you to come to the company's Thanksgiving Day Potluck luncheon...he likes my company...HOW GREAT IS THAT?!?! I know, I know, a husband should like their wife's company, but it still tickles me that he does.

I love friend's that miss me, because I miss them back.

Now go write your own list. You'll like it.

Numbers and Time.

Where I am from it's 7:33am. Where I am located now, it is 5:33am. Where I am going today, it's simply 4:33am.



I am driving to my mother's home today. From Phoenix to San Diego. We have been staying with my sister-in-law and her husband here in AZ. Here I have given myself permission to fall asleep at 8pm their time. I have given myself permission to not go with them to drop my mother-in-law off at her home after sharing in last night's supper, but to stay home and read instead. I have done minimal people pleasing, and a lot of listening to what it is that I might need at this moment. Let me tell you...I have enjoyed myself more than ever by doing this, and I think it's nice when people get to know the tired, introverted me as well as the one that is awake and on. I am going to know this family for a long time, so to put on false fronts, well, that would be too much effort.



I haven't seen my mother in a year and seven months. And I do not remember if at anytime in my life I have ever been away from her for so long. I cannot wait to be in her home and wear her slippers and sit with her on the sofa in the morning, drinking decaf...all before everyone is up. I haven't seen my siblings in the same amount of time, as well as my niece's. I have missed them. Our last gathering was over my mother's father's death. This time we will have an early Thanksgiving together, along with family pictures. It will be two full days together.



I think Ess Gee and I should start driving now.

A little bit of what's up...

Lots of times before I write on this thing I have a good deal in mind of what I will write about, but not today. Bear with my stream of consciousness.

What I have been reading:
Stories of Holocaust victims. I went to the Holocaust museum in DC for the second time in my life and came back home and hit the library up for at least 5 books about soldier's, survivors, and children of survivors of the holocaust. I read through two of them. That's all I've decided to get through for now. I will return the other 3. It sounds callous, but two books about little girls and their travels through ghetto, through loss, through memories, is two stories too many right now. One story is a lot, period. One story is, sadly, one too many. Heartbreaking that there are sooo many more to follow.

What I've been thinking:
Of taking a Spanish class come next semester. I have convinced myself that I would love to speak and learn another language and Spanish seems most useful (and close to Italian, but much more convenient). Funny to think about learning a language for convenience sake. But I think I would speak it well, and the challenge is inspiring to me, so I just might go for it.

What I have been listening to:
My husband reading to me. He read to me about this teacher who, along with her fourth grade students, had an eulogy for "I can't". They held a funeral for that phrase. The students were to write down all the things they believed they could not do, and then they were to put their now crumbled up list into the compost pile outside of their classroom. That way their "I can't's" could grow into something much more useful. I told Ess Gee he and I should write a list of things we say we cannot do, and then burn it in our fire pit. We then discussed just how very disguised adults "I can't's" are. They hide themselves in "I don't have enough time for.... Or 'that's just not that important to me's'". Adults are good fakers.

What I have been seeing:
The leaves along the 40 highway/freeway. (I never know if it's highway or freeway here. In California you are always on a freeway.) Pinks and oranges together sort of take me off guard, reminding me of Old Navy commercials. I set the Old Navy commercials aside and then move on to the yellow's and limey greens and gold's and saturated reds.

What has made me laugh:
A good friend of mine recently got a hot tub for free. Who gets a hot tub for free? And who gets into hot tubs anymore? It's so very Tom Sellick, but I love it that she and her family has one.

That's good for now. I'll update more later.

In the light of all things beautiful.

I am reading The Bread of Angels by Stephanie Saldana. Just picked it up at the library because the story line interested me. I don't feel like giving a book review, but I do feel like quoting a few lines from her book.

Here she is studying the Quran in Syria, reading it in it's native language, tutored by a prominent Muslim woman. This is what Stephanie is magnificently learning.


"Most Muslims believe that the Quran is eternal, that it always existed but was only revealed over time. Just as they believe that are lives are maktoob, written, but it takes a lifetime to understand them. This does not mean that we have no say in our lives-for the famous Islamic saying insists that prayer can change a destiny, that we small humans can enter into an exchange with God. Yet it means that in prayer, as in destiny, we are wading through divine material greater than ourselves."

This is what Saldana says about reading stories.

"...early monks believed that there is no such thing as a story-we each meet the text, and who we are and the text together create a unique event. We change for it and it changes for us, the act of reading becoming an essential way of transforming ourselves. We can only bring to the text what is inside of ourselves-even if the story is a story of death, if we contain life, we will find life."

Saldana grew up Catholic, but she found herself completely unable to believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. She was keeping herself at a monastery for one month in Syria, practicing meditation, prayer, silence in hopes to get at the heart of some of her struggles. She befriends a novice monk there named Frederic. She tells him after many days of these spiritual exercises that she did not believe in the resurrection. His response, " 'You don't believe in the resurrection'...his voice soft and barely audible. He does not say it cruelly. He sounds sad...'It's simple, Stephanie,' he says looking in my eyes. 'You don't love your life.' He leaves the church silently and closes the door."

What an incredible way to pair that!! Belief in the resurrection and loving your life. Infinitely profound.
I am particularly in love with this idea that in prayer and throughout our lives we are "wading through divine material greater than ourselves." Oh, my gosh, can I get an AMEN!!?

Clearing the air.

I reread my "Truly Two Cents" blog entry. A few things in there could have been read in a way that I did not mean. I doctored it up, clarifyied myself a little better. I hope. If I did offend, reread it now. I think it sounds more like what I mean to say. Cue John Mayer's, "Say what you need to say. Say what you need to say." Musical notes are flying.

Truly two cents.

I was watching the news the other day. It was footage in downtown Raleigh. Conservatives were having some gathering protesting gay marriages. It was the typical answer of "the Bible says...". It was the insert [God] here rhetoric. Then the camera pans on over to the opposing group, to which they answer, "It's really such a shame to tell people who they can and cannot love." Here's what I have to say to both sides. Both of you need a new rebuttal.

Opposers who say "God and Bible":

People who do not care about the bible or God are not going to hear one word of what you are saying. That is not the standard they measure their lives by, and they will particularly not wish to have a law measured by that either. The rebuttal is listless, it holds no merit. It means nothing to them. Why let it change their beliefs now? It won't.

Me to the Opposers:

And then there are those who do care about the bible and God, I being one of them, find myself tuning you out for to a lot of reasons, but two being your lack of creativity and relativity. Be thoughtful enough to know your audience. You can't catch butterflies with swords. You wind up swinging aimlessly. How do you expect to be heard when you have no clue as to the language of your opposing side if do not take the time to learn it? Don't just say stuff. Say stuff that matters...not just to you, but to all of us.


Defenders by using "Love":

And then for those on the "Letting Love Define What Should and Should Not Do" side. Love is not there to define laws. Love, sadly enough, has been abused, so much so, that any one can use it. The married man says to his wife about his adulterous affair, "I'm sorry, Honey, I couldn't help who I fell in love with." The polygamous Mormon who comforts himself with his third wife, with his first two standing lovingly on his side. The teacher who falls in "love" with her 14 year old student.
Using the word love will not work in our judicial system. She is not the language that will do it. We have called things "love" for far to long, and we have been mistaken. Love is still courageous and enduring and a mover of many a mountain, but her arms are weakened by our interpretations. Bottom line=just because you love someone does not merit a law for or against something.



So how is marriage defined? And what is it really desired by legally allowing gay marriages? We need to come to a shared belief. It needs to be broader than "the bible says". It needs to be what the bible in total is about. We need something that we all pivot around. That, I think, is gonna have to wait for another entry or a brilliant lightning strike;-).

So full of activity.

I've been sitting in Psalm 146 and 147. I find myself easily answering the question, "Who is God?" when I am here.

He is so encouraging. Listen to what he is doing.


"...keeps truth...executes justice...gives food...gives freedom...opens the eyes...raises those who are bowed down...loves the righteous...watches over strangers...relieves the fatherless and the widows...".



And then in Psalm 147, busy bee God is...



"building up...gathering together...heals...binds up wounds...counts the number of the stars...calls them by name...casts the wicked to the ground...covers the heavens with clouds...prepares rain for the earth...makes grass to grow...gives the beast its food...takes pleasure".



For some reason he reminds me of a little kid that has just learned to share, so wanting to give their new found friend something they have in their hands. Like, "Here, here, take it." Quite sweet and beautiful.

I am back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, My Goodness! I feel like I am bursting with things to say, because it has been so long since I have said them here. I might have thought them, or said them briefly in conversations, but I am itching to write. There's nothing like a slight twist to the ankle to slow you down long enough to make you come back to what you are made of. I am always very aware of what I am most attracted to when the Mighty List Of Things To Do has dwindled down and now I have my own time, my own energies, my own quiet moments. It's in those times that I lay down and listen to music, and not all kinds of music, but maybe one song, over and over again. Like Kenny Rogers "You Decorated My Life". I write letters to people I love. Or send postcards. I write down quotes I love in my journal. I write on this blog. I look at other people's blogs. I PRAY...and I've so missed praying, just praying for the smallest detail. When I am busy I do this sort of inbetween prayers, where you think of something and mention it, but when I really, really get to, get to pray, I LOVE just sitting and going over the people I love with words, songs, offerings and saying their deeply cared for name to God. I am taking a break=today, tomorrow, and Tuesday to rest my ankle. S0mewhere in me is the belief that twisted ankles are made to slow down overly busy people. I am almost, almost grateful.

Gigantic sum.

I heard this today and I liked it.

We are not our biggest mistakes. We are not our failures. We are the sum of the Father's love for us. That's gigantic.

Southern to a T.

There are lots of things that are quintessentially Southern, BUT today I was getting gas and I overheard two men speaking, and I couldn't sum up a southern way better than this.

"How you doing today?"

"Well, I woke up!"

"Got ta' thank the good Lord for that."

"I got no complaints."

"Me neither."

"And I sure the heck don't wanna hear someone else's:-)!"

Ebenezer's.

Not the Dickens kind.

The Samuel kind.

These ebenezer's

are marking stones.

They are laid down

to remind us

of how our God

has provided for us.

Curses placed upon

the person's who ever

tried to move these stones,

these rocks of help.

The bridge over Lake Johnson.
The boxes of journals under our guest bed.
The rock painted green with the word HOPE written on it.
Tiny teaspoons from Italy.
Our wedding picture.

A Bahai Prayer.

Said from memory, outloud, by an 85 year old man, in his kitchen, both of us bare feet.

O God, refresh and gladden my spirit. Purify my heart. Illumine my powers. I lay all of my affairs in Thy hand. Thou are my Guide and my Refuge. I will no longer be sorrowful and grieved, I will be a happy and joyful being. O God, I will no longer be full of anxiety. Nor will I let trouble harass me. I will not dwell on the unpleasant things of life. O God, Thou are more friend to me than I am to myself. I dedicate myself to Thee, O Lord. Abdul-Baha.

A Purpose-Driven Life X 3

Three times this topic has come up. It started with Ess Gee at the kitchen table yesterday. He asked if I thought we had a purpose in this life. I said, "For me to have 'a purpose' in this life feels too small, too narrow, too much weight. " It's kinda like those people who believe there is a "soulmate". To believe there is a soulmate is to have too much pressure on one person. It's like, well, if they're not the one in this whole entire universe, then who is? I believe I am to love what I do and explore that richly on a regular basis. I'm to love others in the way that makes them most know it. I'm to help out folks. And I'm here to say an eager, yeh-yeh, this is God and, a knodding-of-my-head-yep-yep, he is great! And go from there, figuring it all out, processing it all through, in all the ways that fuel the adventure, the love, the growth. Ess Gee agreed with me. To have "a purpose" just seems like it comes up short. But it's not to say that God is not intentional--because he is. I met my best friend from college over 15 years ago. I do think God did say, they are gonna love each other, and be great with one another, and go through things with one another, I like how they match up. But I don't think my bff is gonna say at the end of her life/my life, SHE was in my life for THIS such and such a purpose. I think God matches people with ideas, and other people, and places, but I have a hard time believing it's for one thing, one purpose. Maybe that's man's way of coping with layers, dimensions, complexities.
Then again, if I read what I wrote above over again, maybe what I shy away from when it comes to "purpose" is the title...my purpose is to be a mom, or to be a nurse, or to teach, or to, you know what I mean? Because if I read what I believe, my general theme, or if you wanna call it purpose, is to love.

Um, yeh, strange.

Honestly, I was just there to buy some dried fruit, gum, and a non-alcoholic sparkling beverage, and the cashier asked if I had seen on television the prosthetic feet that they popped into the bones of a footless cat. She went on to say (as I shook my head, "no") that she was really interested in orthopedics because she was there when her now ex-husband lost a leg, and then was fitted for an orthopedic one. The woman who was in front of me, who should have left by now, started in on a summer camp she and her partner were going to attend on orthopedics. She said, all the human doctor's are getting into animal orthopedics, you know, taking on this cause for animals. I came home to tell my husband of this screwy conversation, and he proceeds to talk about his own grandfather who had a wooden leg. I was like WHAT? Who has a grandfather with a wooden leg anymore??? He then went on to say that his grandfather's knee fit into a perfectly carved out bowl created at the top of the wooden stump, to which his grandpa would place his knee and then strap it into with straps that were screwed into the stump. Oh, my gosh, I am so glad that times they are a' changin'. We got cats with better orthopedics than our grandfather's had. My, oh, my, oh, my, oh, my.

It's just where I'm at.

The question I threw out there to the universe today was this...how do you get back to being Husband and Wife, when you get tossed into the craziness of being Daddy and Mama? I want that for my friend's who have kids, or are thinking of having kids. I want wives to feel sexy, womanly, attractive, and I want their husbands to help in creating that for them even if they have seven kids, a dog and a two cats. Yes, yes, I know, I know, women do not need a man to help them feel appreciated, sexy, etc., BUT when you are in a marriage a husband cultivating those feelings is majorly appreciated, and majorly helpful. And it's not a one-sided deal, wives encouraging a husband in his husbandriness (a new word;-))/manliness, well, one can imagine that it makes him feel thankful, too. This all comes up because Ess Gee and I have decided to watch two munchkin's on Saturday night to help out a dear couple we know who may not get much couple time. I think that's what scares me about being a parent. Forgetting who we are as a wife, as a woman, and only becoming a one-dimensional mother. But I see too, how I cramp myself into, again, an either/or scenario. You are either a sexy wife, or a tired mother, and I see how I'm not able to mesh the two...like being a mother is sexy:-). I'm not there yet. Maybe one day:-).

Because of you, SDD.

This topic might be too much for one blog post, but it is something that I haven't thought about for awhile, and I have been thinking about it more often because it's nearer to me than it has been in a really long time, so I'll write. It's death. Dying. I can't tell you the last time I thought about dying, really dying. It's just something I keep at arms length, but it's not at arms length anymore. A dearest friend of mine, who is my family, her father is dying, and this is why I am thinking of death. She has been thinking about it for miles and miles now. She has been talking with other friend's whose father's have died, and she said that two of these friends have asked this question separate from one another, "Why is it that we have such a great man, a great father, and he dies far too young, and then you have these real jerks on the earth living without a concern until what seems like eternity?" The reason why is this: Death does not operate on either/or scenarios. Death does not standby and say, "It's either this great dad, or this jack@ss." Death is not choosy, he just chooses. He does not operate with a mind of fairness. His bottom line is this...we all go. However that is to look for each one of us is however that is to look, but death does not concern himself with who is great, deserving, unworthy, of no value, a favorite. That's a dog chasing its tail kind of question. Sometimes those "why" questions are. I'd like to wrap this post up with something about Jesus, but nothing is coming to me right now, so I'll leave you with a question and a thought that I do think about often, and that is: At the far end of my life, where would I have wanted to spend my time? Would I have wanted all those journal pages to be designated to writing about those five extra pounds I couldn't get rid of? Would I have wanted good space to be wasted on things that in the big scale do not matter? Love somebody well. Serve somebody well. Let someone know that you super think they are great. Bake your hubbie a cheesecake because it's his favorite. Send your friend pretty earrings because it's simply sweet. Tell your dad you celebrate him and that you have for umpteen years. Go matter to someone. Let someone matter to you. Commit to the things that matter. Do it for life. Do it for life. Do it for life.

The need for a Sabbath on a Tuesday.

Do you ever feel like maybe if I do absolutely nothing today, it will help me do everything tomorrow? Because I'm kinda feeling like I have LOTS of things to do, and this makes for little motivation when you don't really feel like doing any of it right now. I'm tired. And my mind has been working in extremes lately. And I hate that way of thinking. It really bugs me. A life being minimized by either/or thinking. Either I do this, or nothing. Either I don't do this, or everything. Trappings (said in a highpitched, singsong voice). My greatest hope is simplicity...and probably rest. I need all the mantras, mottos, trite saying's of every motivational speaker out there. And while I'm at it, I'll take it one day at a time;-).

Family growing.

Gotta crack up at my mom. She is very excited about her dog having puppies. So much so, that through Annie's pregnancy my mother would send me CLOSE UP pictures of Annie's teets. All of a sudden on my cellphone up comes "mama" signaling to me I have received something from my mother. I'd open the phone and, WHALAH, six of Annie's teets. YUCK!!!! I told her she really needed to minimize these kinds of pictures. Now, since Annie has had three babies, I receive pictures of these crazy looking sea creatures, like baby seals with major wrinkles, tied with ribbons around their necks signifying two boys and a girl. It's really very sweet, but I am very glad the pregnancy is over. Whew:-).

Conditioning. Not the hair kind.

How conditioned are we to fear? How conditioned are we to be in a hurry? How conditioned are we to doubt? Conditioning comes from sooo many places. The neighborhood you live in. The family you grew up with. The relationship you we once apart of. My best friend lives in a big city. She has lived there for 7 years. She's planning on moving to another city, but just not as big. Her once highspeed race to catch a train, bus, taxi, will no longer be needed once she moves. The new city won't call for it. She will be conditioned to hurry, but the new place has no need for it. She can try, but the people and the scene are just far more laid back than what she's used to. My neighborhood gets a lot of police activity. A lot to me, but maybe not a lot to others. I don't walk it as casually or as much as I used to. I look over my shoulder more. It will be strange to move (and hopefully live) in an area that I don't feel the need to do that. I watch other people run, jog, stroll in other parts of the Triangle and they don't look as skittish as I feel. I envy them. My husband came back from a year long deployment to Iraq. Any noise I would make in another room of the house, Ess Gee would immediately ask, what's that?!? And I'd be like, um, Lovey, I was pulling up the blinds. OR I'd be like, uhh, I accidently dropped the lid to the pot?!? He was conditioned to fear noise due to the environment he was a part of for that year. What I pray is that when I start responding to my life solely out of the conditionings of my life, that I would stop for a minute, and then respond out of more true place. I have said before that what I feel like I need most is for the reality of a situation to begin to match up with what goes on in my head. Because so many times reality is trumped by my conditioning. I need to be more like, "Oh, yeah, I don't need to rush. The world still spins around everyday and I don't have a thing to do with it. Stuff will get done." Or, "Alright already, there is not a thief hanging around every corner, or every bush. It's gonna be okay." Or, "I am loved today, by a big, huge God today. And that's enough today. And that will be plenty today."

Running low, but filling up.

These past few days we have been low on groceries, only because tomorrow is shopping day. I go food shopping every two weeks, but you can really get creative when you are working with little. For our side dish salad for supper;-), I cut up ripe and ready pears and added mandarin orange poppy seed dressing, and come to find out, I could have eaten this all night. And then on a whim (not necessarily because we were low on milk, but just because) I decided to dip an Oreo cookie in some hot, strong coffee, and I came out of the situation smiling. I rarely eat Oreo's now, but, let me tell you, there was a time I had to give them up for Lent. We had pasta the other night, traditional, nothing fancy. Marinara with added basil, fresh from my porch planter, and then sauteed onion, along with turkey Italian sausage. The meat goes the quickest when it comes to any pasta I serve, because as most Americans my husband is a big believer that meat is the entree. So, to stretch this pasta out for his lunches, I added meatballs when we were low on sausage. A true makeover:-).
Whenever I need to juice up my recipe repertoire I head to the library. The library is a fantastic place to test out, be inspired, dive into a collection of good food ideas. I recently picked up The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper by Lynne Rosetto Kasper and Sally Swift. The Splendid Table is also a radio program on National Public Radio. I have listened to Lynne for many years while also receiving her many email recipes. I turn the pages of this cookbook like I'm reading the Dead Sea Scrolls:-). I am very particular about the cookbooks I choose. I don't want lists and lists of ingredients, I'm not that fussy. I do want pictures for almost every dish. I do love a back story on an ingredient, recipe, meal. I do love name dropping other chef's in one cookbook, so I can explore more recipes in another. Lynne and Sally provide all of it. And it is so much fun!!!
Another good place to turn when running low on meal ideas are fictional stories. It is now very fashionable to include recipes on cakes, pastas, meatloaves in writing a fiction book, BUT before this trend came to be, I hopped on with one of my all-time favorite novels. It is in Chaim Potok's The Chosen. I have read this book three times. The meal shared among his character's is this: thick soup, fresh rye bread, onion rolls, bagels, cream cheese, scrambled eggs, smoked salmon. And for dessert, chocolate pudding. YUM!!! So simple I can smell it. Potok, I do not believe, was as intentional as some of the author's now who include recipes in their stories, but i just loved this meal, so I had to write it down. Adriana Trigiani and Jan Karon are also two authors that toss in great food pairings and recipes amongst their character's and stories. Both of these women also have their own cookbooks out.
Anyways, when low, be inspired!! There are, oh, so many good places to gain from!

S-L-O-W-L-Y gettin' it.

I sat in church on Sunday morning in Asheville with my husband beside me, along with some very some dear friends who have been walking this life with me for something like 8 years. My husband and I are contemplating on whether or not we will move to the area of Asheville. The weekend away showed me a few things about myself. Lately I have been repeating a promise that God says--"Never will I leave you, nor will I forsake you." And I wasn't quite sure why I kept repeating it...until now. Switch back to me sitting in church, jotting down sideways notes on the church bulletin. I wrote, "Jesus, you will meet us in our future. You are already there." I think I am afraid of a move because I teeter a lot on being lonely. Yes, I have Ess Gee, but, yes, I also know what it's like to start over again in a new town, new home, new job, new church, new friend's. Loneliness often times comes with new. And I have felt disconnected for quite awhile now living in Raleigh, so to go do some more disconnection in hopes to connect is cause for my timidity. I also forget how comfortable I have become with our lives' schedule until you think about taking it apart. Ess Gee works Monday through Friday, weekend's mostly off. I work part-time, my employers completely flexible with a schedule that I make. This will change. Wednesday nights have been bible study with friend's I have been doing this with for the past nine years. This will change. I have to get my mind around being uncomfortable for a little while. I have to get my mind around having to work out muscles that I haven't had to use in awhile. And that's where that repeating verse comes in. Jesus will be in that future place where I am uncomfortable and where I am lonely. He was there when I moved to North Carolina nine years ago and when I moved to Raleigh three and half years ago. He will be there in all that silence of a future I have no clue as to how to fill or how it will be filled.
He goes where we go. It's that God with us thing again.

List of things to do.

These were the things I desperately wanted to do today.
Snip off the dead flowers from my coreopsis plants.
Miracle Grow feed my baby trees that are planted in pots.
Get the old toenail polish off my nails. YUCK!
Shave my legs.
Clean my ears.
Get the dishes out of my kitchen sink.
Grocery shop.
Buy an itunes card.
Burn a Going to Asheville for Memorial Day Weekend cd.
Cut off some of my fresh basil and make pesto.
Work on a poem.
Pick up Anne Lamott's new book that I have on hold at the library.
Copy down a qoute that I loved about the word "wonder".
Take pictures of a collage I did on my idea of prayer.
Share that picture with you.
I did a quarter of these things. The rest will have to wait. The world spins on:-).
If I don't get to another blog post before Memorial Day weekend I want to make sure to tell you--be sure to thank a veteran...this holiday is about them.

Simply because we need it.

I guess I'm just gonna write about a word that has mattered much to me in the past couple of months. The word is "with". Really, with "with" I've had a love affair with that word for far more years than I can remember, but it's coming back in drove's lately.

I think it might just be one of the more powerful words of any language.

I was in therapy for a year shortly after I moved to North Carolina. I sat on the sofa five feet from my therapist in his chair, and it wasn't until he said, "I will do this with you" did I even recognize he was in the same room. Lots of my life was what I called island-living. Not the tropics, but in the way I operated. I was my own island, or at least I thought I was. I operated on a completely disfunctional set of of too many "I's". I will do it...I will handle it...I will take it...I will manage it...I will find it...I will, get it? I thought I had every reason to be this way. I am a first-born. I fight with perfectionism. I was a nuerotic-caregiver making sure all parties involved were fine, good, dandy. But me, as for fine, good, dandy, I wasn't. I was in need. And for my therapist to say, "I will do this with you" was incredible. He said "with" and it was like I didn't need to suck my gut in any more. His withness helped me be more honest. I didn't have to act like I didn't have problems/issues/needs. That probably took more courage for me to muster up than I even now realize. My best friend said to me when we would talk about our future husbands, I hope he is someone who can be strong for you, since you so often are strong for everybody else. So when Ess Gee came in and loved me and said he was willing to commit with me for life, I was bowled over. Another triumphant WITH. And I don't think it's any coincidence when God calls himself Emmanuel, literally "God with us", he really wants us to know "with" in that kind of way, too. The "with" that helps us be more honest, let our bellies out, shows us we are not islands and we are not alone.

Pulling a Paul...I do the things I do not wish to do, and the things I wish to do, I do not do.

Since my last post, in my own tiny world, a friend's baby has been born, a friend's father has died, friend's have gotten engaged, friend's have gotten pregnant, my husband hiked most of Southeast Utah, I've been to Chicago and back, I've seen three movies, I've probably been to Starbuck's more times than I care to admit, and I finally finished a poem. So strange when you type out life like that...deeply heavy things to the lightest weights. Such a funny, hard chasm sometimes. There's lots more I could add, but it could get overwhelming. Good thing God created days, or at least the need for sleep. It's nice to have something that ends, gives us a small break, and then begins again. OR vise-versa. That can be trusted.
Maybe this list, and the act of listing, is what brings me to these questions and my inability to answer them [while answering them]. (I don't wish to be too dramatic, but humor me.) My questions are these: What are some important things to me that bring me joy? And why am I not doing them? I asked myself this while I was in Chicago. I wrote down some of the things that I love, but do not do enough of. Such as: Writing poetry. Singing. Talking to my grandmother. Talking with my dad. Praying with friends. Sending packages. Simple enough, right? Each one listed is none too expensive, none too extensive, none too much in need of an explosive amount of energy. So this is where I begin to wonder just how invested I am in these things...how true to me are they, IF I am not doing them? For example...I've said [for awhile now], "Oh, I have always wanted to join a yoga class." Well, for the past 6 months, I've had full access to a yoga class and yoga classes, with times that work for my schedule, BUT I have not gone. So I think to myself, "Hmph. I must not really want to do this thing that I have said that I have always wanted to do, otherwise I would do it, right?" OR, my mother would be pleased by this, I want to get back into playing piano. I've done some research for purchasing a keyboard, but nothing that I would move forward in, so I think, do I really want to play piano again? I think about this same thing in finishing off my four-year degree, or taking a culinary class, or joining a volleyball league...I say I want these things, but my life does not match up. Not only does my life not match up, perhaps even the steps I am taking don't even move in the direction of the things I wish for. Now, I give myself room for grace in life, with time, with accomodating not just my life, but my life as a wife, and as a part-time employed person. I give myself grace as a woman who enjoys the occasional DVD/movie and the occasional unthinking latte break. There's room for this. And I typically do not operate so plainly in black and white, aka "if this equals this, then, of course(!), this equals this". But these questions do make me look at life differently, if not better. I do want my actions to match my words, my heart. Life can be chasmatic, but doesn't mean I have to be, right? I like May. It's teaching me a lot.

I will be so presumptuous.

I wasn't sure how to write about this. I wasn't sure if I could make this come across the way I wished for it to, but I thought I'd give it a try.
I was with a friend the other day and we were talking about ways in which we remind ourselves we are loved and cared for by God. Those words--loved and cared for--feel like they fall flat, even when I write them next to the name of God, particularly when I write them next to the name of God. They can sound deflated for lots and lots of reasons and experiences--overuse, disbelief, tragic sorrows, abuse, manipulation, shame, pain, etc., etc.. But when talking with this friend about grace, about forgiveness, about freedom (again, all words that can come unfortunately prepackaged) I felt myself gaining momentum on who God really is. [He might chuckle even as I write that.] I started telling my friend that I really think God is anxious for us to discover delights. He really is on his tippy-toes, saying to himself, "Oh, they are getting it! They are almost there!" And his hands are waving in front of his chest, excited for us to know him as he is. While I think God is patient with us, I do believe he is eager for us to get through things, so we can get to the sweet stuff of the otherside. He is with us in all processes. He is with us when we are the ones who cause our own undoing's. He is with us when someone or something causes them for us. But he LOVES it when we turn the corner's of our hardships and find rest and joy and peace and him on the otherside.

Hi! I'm Square Peg.

And meet Raleigh, my round hole.
I've been in Raleigh for three and a half years. I've been in the Triangle for a total of almost 10. Raleigh has been my most difficult fit since living here in NC. I'm not saying that I went into the experience of living in Raleigh with some great expectations and Raleigh fell short. I'm just saying I've lived here for some time now and Raleigh doesn't do it for me. And it's not to say that I haven't tried to plug into something in this city to make our relationship better. I've tried churches here, I've tried school here, I've tried neighborhoods here, and it might be me, but I do not seem to able to wear this city well. When I was saying this stuff outloud to a great friend, this friend said something great to me. It went like this, "I hate to break it to you, but you are not going to fit into Raleigh. You can stop trying. You are going to be uncomfortable. You don't have to beat your head against the wall to make this city and you work. So in the meantime, look at it this way. It's an interim place, just temporary. Invite your friends over. Go out to eat at your favorite restaurants. Enjoy the people you know. And don't worry, you've got time to plan to move, and move wisely. No need to panic."
These words were like giving a captive woman freedom. It felt so good to realize I didn't have to make Raleigh happen. I didn't have to like it. You kinda feel like, "Well, we bought a home here, of course, we like it!" But, honestly, we weren't thinking of getting outta here when we bought it, we were just so stoked to have purchased a home. We weren't thinking we were going to be a 15 minutes or more (lots more) drive to any place worth driving to. We weren't thinking we would want to be closer to the mountains, like way closer, but we do.
Anyways, the moral of the story is, not that we shouldn't find contentment and thanksgiving for the things we are given, but not everybody is going to be your best friend, not everybody is going to like you, or you them. Some things can be left alone. In a way, that gives you a peace to live where you are and a direction to where you're going.

The Challenge of Being Uncomfortable

I used to hold my life together by the mantra, "I don't make goals. Life happens and they are never reached." This can be a pretty destructive mantra, but I must admit I decorated it well with "free-spirit", "personality" and "living life in the present"! It's now safe to say, growing up and owning up has done a fair job of shoving that mantra off a cliff, but I do recognize ways in which my life hides behind those words still. While I would like to think that I am still free-spirited, playful, spontanious, adventuresome, I do need to implement a friend of mine's phrase, "A little bit of structure can give someone a whole lotta freedom."
This weekend my hubbie has gone camping with the Army. Today, Saturday, and Sunday I do not have to work my regular job, but I do need to work on my life. While I love the couple that I work for, I hate the distance. (See! It's me with that distant/nearness thing again!) I need to spruce up the resume and send out the line to see if I can catch some more local jobs. The tediousness of this task will gratefully be accompanied with loud music playing and dance breaks, working on poetry, windows opened, a long walk, and a really cushiony seat. I started the day in prayer though. First lying on the sofa, then on my knees in the TV room, then on my feet in the TV room. I needed this outpouring for my friend's, my family, myself before I got on the horse of the day. And I have a funny, funny feeling that this day, this weekend, is gonna turn out better than I have imagined. More to come. Always more to come.

Jai-ism's.

Last night I got to speak with my 6-year-old niece out in California. She told me her Grandma Sweetie Pie, my mother, is going to be marrying off our family dog, an English Mastiff named Annie, to another English Mastiff, named Goliath. Annie will be having puppies. I know my mother wants to give Ess Gee and I one of her puppies, so I was asking my niece for name ideas. She vouched for either Sunshine or ChumChum. My mother piped in the background and offered Salami or Meatball...we are Italian, can you tell:-)? Tootsie Roll (my mother), Thor(my husband) and Uluff(my niece) were also tossed about. Clever, clever all the same. And then from out of the blue, my niece tells me this, "Did you know that an ostrich has a brain the size of a peanut?" And then she laughed. I did not know this, but I thought it would be a good piece of trivia to leave you with today.

Begrudgingly anecdotal.

I'm gonna sound incredibly trite in about two seconds, but, really, I think people just want to be cared for. And not to macrocosm my microcosm, but I will anyway--Because I love to be cared for, I'm sure others do, too.
I'm thinking of the woman I work for. She didn't want to get out of bed today, so I propped her up (part of her disease causes her to uncontrollably lean to the right), washed up her face, hands, cleaned under her nails, combed her hair, changed her gown, cleaned her reading glasses, made her breakfast, and touched her arm as I was telling her about babysitting our friend's 5 month old puppy over this Easter weekend. I left the room for a moment and the thought hit me, that here she is--unable to drive, walk, get to a fridge, bathroom, grocery store, so all she can do is wait to see how I will care for her...how I will meet the specific need, that is particular to her. I'm sure mother's and father's of mini-munchkins feel this way, too. These two things are sort of extreme examples of how people need to be cared for, but there are also the daily ordinary need/want of people who may not be in such big-like situations. My best friend from college knows I love receiving mail, so she makes sure she sends me a card on a pretty regular basis. She takes care of me, the very center part of me, that tells me someone is thinking of the things that I particularly love and they wish to show me that they know me by this. I try to do this for my husband...specific Ess Gee-ism's that make him feel known and cared for by me. And vise-versa. I know the woman I work for isn't a huge fan of commercials, but she records her favorite soaps and watches them all in one lump sum. So while I cannot stand watching these soaps with her, I will read in the other room and when I hear the commercial come on, I go into her room every time and fast forward through the commercial for her. Funny little thing to note, but she thanks me every time. The simplicity of that act makes me feel inferior in some ways. My job is not academic. My job is not clean, neat, nicely put away. My job is not creating drinkable water for a country in Africa. It's not flashy, educational, particularly extensive. I am reminded of the time our family sat around the table one Christmas Eve. I was with part of the family I didn't know all that well and I was a little intimidated by their world travels, their wealth, their studies. And we were playing this game of question asking, and the HUGE question came up of, "What is your purpose in life?" Or something like that. And each one of us went around and had to answer this. I said, feeling like Fivel on American Tail when he sings to the moon Somewhere Out There, "To love. And to love well." I don't know, perhaps the worldly accolades will come later;-), but right now I'm working on caring for folks, and working on doing this well.

Sunday Best.

The neighborhood third grader reminded me of something on Sunday. She did a cart-wheel in her front yard and clapped afterwards and stated plainly and matter-of-fact, "I am a cheerleader." I admired her from my knees with a hand on a weed and smiled. Her little four-year-old cousin began picking dandelion heads from our yard. I told the two girls to come on over with the dandelions. I showed them how you can color the sidewalk with smeared dandelion, acting like the dandelion head is a crayon, spelling your name or creating shapes and coloring them in, or play tick-tack-toe. Third grader said, after she colored yellow all over her grandmother's white painted, cement bench, "I am an artist." I echoed her confidence when I told her she was. She then asked me to watch her and her cousin race along the side of our houses. After two races, she looked at me and said, "I am a track star." And so the story goes, throughout our sweet exchanges there were a few more wonderful claims to personhood. It was reviving to be around. She never once doubted her abilities. She never once flinched with any name she called herself.
I don't need to write about discouragement and it's ugly un-naming power. We know that by rote. I was reminded by a third grader on Sunday just how absolutely true every moment is when you really believe the good things that you are. Adult or child. I smile as I write that now.

Funeral Songs.

This is probably far too in advance for my own good, but I do tell Ess Gee that I want a party at my funeral. Not for the typical reasons one might think of to celebrate at a funeral, ie. I'm with Jesus Forever stuff, I'm living in a mansion behind pearly gates stuff, I'm permanently made a harmonious singer in the gospel choir for the Lord stuff. [Honestly, I give very little thought to heaven. Minus what I imagine eating all the time without any repercussions. Cake frosting.] I have decided to keep a running list of most fun songs that should be played loudly at my funeral--simply because these songs need to be heard with my personality in mind, my friendship's in mind, my delight in a good time in mind, and my delight in a good time with the people I love (or have loved) in mind (most importantly). Katrina and The Waves--Walking on Sunshine. Manfred Mann--Blinded by the Light. Okay, it's just two so far, but really, you could put these on repeat and then go home knowing you were loved by me and remembering we only live once, so make it a good one.

Half way through half this book.

I picked up Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years yesterday from the library and I am half way through. I'll finish it today, but here's what I am understanding as of now. He is writing about writing "story" and its basic structure. Not a poorly written story, but a good one. He structure's good story with this concept--A character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it. (There's more, but this is the bare bones of it.) So with this stripped down definition he starts to examine his life. He sees his life is not filled with good story. His life was safe, comfortable, made, uneventful (and all these adjectives are coated with fearfulness). What I am gathering from the rest of the read so far, is this: Great story is all around you, but it's up to you to engage in it. Particularly the structures of what make up a good story are all around you, but we just wind up too afraid to engage in them. I say this because Don only began to feel like he was beginning to live out a good story, when he met up his father after 20 so years of not talking to him, started trying to lose the weight he carried for most of his life (and then actually losing it), pursuing a woman who was only at one time a friend of a friend. His father, his weight, this woman--already in place. He just needed to act on it. And then I, of course, start asking this question, "What have I been putting off?" Because that's what reading half this book has caused me to wonder. Don was putting off talking to his dad, losing weight, really engaging with this girl. So last night, I started doing some things that I have been putting off. They really haven't been fun things, persay, but I need to do them to live out a good story, or at least a better one.

On the Look Out.

I pulled a big, white, cotton blanket out of my washer today and wished for a clothesline. Then I wished it was dry and warm enough out for clothes to air out on a clothesline. I paint clotheslines, watercolor pictures of them. It's a funny obsession. I find myself jealous that my neighbor has a clothesline, but never uses it for clothes. He uses it for his mop. Who uses mops anymore when there's the Swiffer, the sponge on a stick, your foot and a washcloth? Along with my obsession with clotheslines, I have an obsession with nearness. It has been coming back in droves lately. My nieces are not near enough, the grocery store isn't near enough, the mountains are not near enough, now isn't near enough. The place I go to that I obsess about has all the walkability of a Jan Karon's Mitford Series, but not so small town that it doesn't hold hiking trails 5 miles away, or a Contemporary Art Museum down the block, or a short ride with my niece to the zoo. Hangup's are funny, annoying things. My husband and I went to hear an architect read and discuss his new book about the architecture of sacred places. He compared all the great mediator's, ie. Moses, Muhammad, Jesus, Buddha, etc. as these connector's between God and people. He said sacred places act as sort of mediators/connector's for people/community in hopes to gather near to God. He said that in his research, one thing he noticed all sects of belief share when they designed a mosque, temple, sanctuary, was that each one of these places said, "I AM HERE." They created a serious presence in whatever spot they built upon. Be it in the middle of a field, the heart of the city, a place on a hillside---all sorta called out, "SEE ME." I don't compartmentalize well. I think all things blend, integrate, intertwine with one another. I say this because maybe I feel far away from people, things, a bookstore, because I feel far away from a presence or direction that says, "I am HERE. See ME." God's a little blurry...and I am, too. My husband's nephew just got a beautiful tattoo that was created with a new ink out on the market...the color is black cherry. His tattoo looked so much more defined, distinct, dimensional due to black cherry ink. God is probably more like black cherry ink, but right now I'm seeing him kinda like the ship anchor tattoo on a 75-year-old man who got his ink done when he was 18. Waaaaaay different. I've noticed lately that I have used phrases like, "pull the miles between us in" and "hive in", and I've used arm motions like I'm gleaning oats in a field. I've never gleaned oats in a field, but I'm imagining that that's what I'm doing. I'm wanting to make the universe smaller, and in the center of this smaller universe I'm needing a mediator/connector that says, "This way. Come here. You got it. That's it now." I'm full of journey, but no destination. Sliver sightings of destinations are good every now and then. I'll let you know if I see one:-).

Julie Andrews. I knew that would get your attention:-).

Yep, the Julie Andrews and her daughter Emma Walton Hamilton selected poems, songs and lullabies to create a collection particularly for children (But should anything be particularly for children?) which is exactly the reason I checked the book out from the library:-). I think Julie and Emma did a reverent job of just who they included in this book...Ogden Nash, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes, Shel Silverstein, A.A.Milne, and the list goes on. Some surprising, some not so surprising. Some far too cutesy and maybe even trite for me, BUT I didn't write this blog for a critique of the book, I am writing to present a poem I thought would do me good to remember. And it might do you good also:-).

MY SYMPHONY
To live content with small means,
to seek elegance rather than luxury,
and refinement rather than fashion,
to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich,
to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly,
to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart,
to bear all cheerfully,
do all bravely,
await occasions,
hurry never--
in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious,
grow up through the common.
This is to be my symphony.
William Ellery Channing

Sticking with jumping rope.

Ugh. Maybe I just need to write about this to get over it. You know, put it out there in the universe and hope it will come back to me better than I imagine, or something like that. I am meeting with a personal trainer today. I can't stand even writing that. Except I really like her. She'd be my friend, I'm sure, if she weren't my personal trainer. Ess Gee and I joined a gym a few weeks ago. We were getting cabin fever with North Carolina's cold and I need to walk for mental health, so gym membership became therapy. I thought, "Cool, get me on a treadmill, lift me some free weights, all good." BUT, this gym comes with a three time meeting with a personal trainer as part of your membership. The first meeting with her I told her all my neurosis and all the things I wasn't going to do. I was putting the power back into my hands, I called the shots. I wasn't going to find out my fat content, my weight by their scales, my blood pressure. I know this is walking the fine line of irresponsible, but I've been there. I used to do this, to the extreme, and now that I'm free from it, I'm fine. My husband, on the other hand, who has met with the personal trainer twice already, now wants to cut out caffeine, do training circuits, and try kettle balls. Me, I'm a classicist and still just wanna walk on a treadmill and watch the occasional Today Show. I even told the PT that I'd give up my three meetings with her, and she could give them to anyone she wants, but that wasn't going to work. SO, today, I meet with her, to go lean on a huge rubber ball, and roll on some styrofoam cylinder to help my core muscles. These feel trendy to me and that's partially why I don't do them. In California, (and I'm sure in other parts of the US) where I lived for a good portion of my life, there was this huge trend to rollerblade along the boardwalk at the beach. I will tell you right now, everything in me opposed this. I was not gonna be rollerblading anywhere. Too many people doing it. Same reason I never tried snowboarding. I stick to ski's because everyone else was doing something else. Not to say that I don't love me some occasional skinny jeans, or a viewing of Avatar, I'm just saying. My poor personal trainer, she will be getting a mouthful today, all the while I'm pulling on some plastic, stretchy rope with handles to help strengthen my upper body:-). If anything, she and I will get a good laugh:-).

A Regular Walt Disney.

My husband, Ess Gee, (this is how he would like to be referred to in Humble Two Pennies. He kills me. He even told me how I could spell it!! For those who know him, you would definately find this humorous and cheesy!) says I like to name everything, and it wasn't until a few days ago did I fully agree. (Personally I just think this happens to you when you spend too many days in cold weather.) Ess Gee's truck is named Buck. Buck sometimes has an attitude, particularly when Ess Gee is driving I've noticed. My car is named Phineaus, aka Phin. She's speedy, but tries to obey the rules. Our home's heating system is affectionately called Henry. Henry takes such good care of us because right when we get into bed and shut ourselves into our bedroom he kicks on. He makes us feel like we are in a cocoon. He has been my favorite. I've even named imaginary animals we've do not yet (or if ever will) own. Like if we owned hamster's, there would be two. One named Peanut. One named Butter. After my favorite food. And if we get a dog (this will not be imaginary) his/her name will be Simma Astro Down [insert our last name]. If we ever bought ourselves a Toucan, which I could never imagine us doing, but if we did, Ess Gee even joined in on this, he said we can name the bird Toots Can. I can tell you right now, Toots Can would be my least favorite. My goodness, we welcome the Spring:-).

These here are thoughts of someone who has the great luxury of a not very worried life.

At two in the morning is when you have the most existential thoughts:-). I found myself debating on what kind of blogging should I do:-). Should I make this a themed blog? Should I only write really smart things (said in a humble way, of course:-))? Should I share personal stuff? Should I post more things than one on a single day? Should I post daily? Weekly? Do others who blog experience these same questions:-)? I then decided to give up every one of those questions and do whatever I pleased without the existentialism:-). I like the freedom. Here's to not waking up at 2am, and here's to posting whenever, however I like:-). Bear with me, folks. To tell you the truth, when I drive my 45 minutes to and from work, I like to think of Blog Titles, and just how I would flesh them out into words. Does this make me a nerd blogger? I smilingly think so.

Make this because you like yourself a whole bunch.

I promise to not make this a blog solely about recipes (although there is the temptation) but I had to include this weekend treat my husband and I had and super enjoyed. P.S. I even told my very cute, and truthful, Midwestern grandmother about it and she said it sounded good. This coming from a woman whose favorite food is the hot dog!!! Her exact words were, "I'd have to say most of the recipe's you make do not sound appetizing, but this one does." She is not a fan of Indian, nor Thai, nor Mexican, nor Greek foods, but I do agree even she would like this one. I've built the recipe out of a Betty Crocker one and through time have made it tastier than when begun. Eat up!!

Black Bean and Sausage Soup Made in a Large Pot on the Stove
Two cans of black beans, not drained, dumped in.
One fat sweet potato, microwaved, skinned, and then cut up in big chunks, dumped in.
A cup or so of cut up carrot tidbits, dumped in.
One onion, chopped up, dumped in.
Fresh spinach, sliced up, add in.
I use breakfast sausage, but I'm sure you can use any kind, chorizo, Italian, bratwurst. Cut up into one inch pieces, precooked, and then dumped in.
Four cloves of garlic, pressed (or chopped up), dumped in.
2 to 3 cups water (depending on how thick you like your soup add more or less)
One and a half chicken bouillon cubes (or use chicken stock, three cups worth and no need for the water)
Salt, pepper, coriander...a few shakes into the pot will do.

(Through time you can add any other kind of veggie you may like, ie. corn, green beans, regular potatoes, make it your own.)

Bring to a boil, then simmer 15 minutes. You may eat as is, OR you can puree about two to three cups worth in your blender. Puree the meat, sweet potato, onion, everything, don't be choosy. Pour the puree back in the pot and WHAHLAH, eat with pleasure. Serve with rolls, crackers, cheese, tortilla chips. I make a roll called a Nun Puff, but I'll save that recipe for later.

Rollin' along, forgetting about divinity.

I forget just how very divine things can be. Like divine intervention, or divinely spoken, or divinely directed. I was talking with the gentleman I work for--Bill (his wife has a neurological disorder, I'm her aide). They are both in their eighties, have been married 60 years, and, yes, they have divine stories. He is an optometrist (Still! Not retired!). Twenty years ago, when most people his age were retiring, he had noticed his client numbers were dwindling, but he knew he wanted to keep working, so he began job hunting. There was a brand new practice opening up in Durham, so he applied. (He and his wife were living in western North Carolina at the time and were getting tired of the cold.) But he bowed out of the pursuit of the Durham job due to changes going on in the optometry world that he wasn't quite ready for. He remained timid, depressed, unsatisfied. He decided to change gears and head south towards Charlotte. He got a job in a bedroom community near Charlotte and rented an apartment. He got off of work around 3pm everyday so afterwards he and his wife would swim in the pool or take long walks around their neighborhood. He eventually found himself itchin' for more though. Wanting more hours, more clients, more work. He went to go talk to an optometry friend in Charlotte. [Note: This is four years after pursuing the Durham job.] His friend mentioned, without knowing about any previous Durham search, that a practice in Durham was in need of an optometrist. The place that was recommended was exactly the place Bill had quasi-pursued four years before. Bill got the hint:-). He applied and was hired, and he and his wife moved to Durham.
So even though it was worry and anxiety that kept him from pursuing the job before, the grace fact was it was brought around to him a second time. And this time it included the added bonus of a four-year status in a consistent and full client base, so he could just join right in--to a good, full days work.
It was better than he deserved, he says. It was better than he expected, he says. I forget how very magical people's stories can be or how God could possibly know what he's doing. I forget that. Bill's story excited me to the fact that I am now apart of their story, and, honestly, what a privilege it is for me. Because they kindly remind me of divinity.

Winning come's in 3's...

I don't know if you know this or not, but all good things come in three's. I'm not sure where I get this from. My grandmother on my mother's side has some funny superstitions, so maybe I've picked this idea up from her, I'm not sure. Grandma M., we'll call her, has said some strange things, like if a knife falls on the ground and points towards you, and you are a woman, you're gonna be the next one pregnant. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, say, if you're like a 75 year old woman and the knife points towards you, or what happens to you if you're a man...no clue. She's italian and Catholic, so she'd probably give you some vino and do the sign of the cross over you all while underneath her breath she's calling on Jesu Cristo. In any case, all good things come in three's, and I'm waiting for my #3. My first win was with our local newspaper The News and Observer. We subscribe and I was able to submit my name to win two tickets to see Loggins&Messina...this is Kenny Loggins and Jim Messina (www.logginsandmessina.com)..eeeyow!!! I won! Absolute freakout on my end, because I grew up singing House at Pooh Corner, Your Mama Don't Dance, Danny's Song. And then I have a friend who also writes a blog and it was her blog's 200th entry, so she was having a drawing to win an 8 by 10 letter press qoute in pretty pink and gray, and my name was randomly drawn!!!! That was maybe a month ago...and I eagerly await to name drop, apply, submit, enter anything that catches my fancy that may soon be my hysterical, wonderful #3! I'll keep you posted!

Friday Grocery Store Observances

I've noticed more and more men. Over these past six month's of grocery shopping every other Friday, mid-morning's, I've noticed more father's, more couple's, more families, more solo gentlemen standing, pushing, hauling, debating, choosing food item after food item at our local SuperTarget. And I wonder why they are there. It's the strangest thing to measure your economy by how many men may shop at SuperTarget at 10:30am on a Friday, but I have a funny feeling we can.
Disclaimer: Not that I don't leave room for those who do not hold traditional 9 to 5, Monday thru Friday jobs...of course(!) there are many of those types of jobs out there, and not that I don't leave room for non-traditional families,couples, father's...of course (!) there are many different types of scenario's out there, but I'm just making commentary for a simple observance.

Jesus, a Zen Buddhist?

I just finished reading The Long Quiet Highway by the poet, author, painter, teacher, student of Zen Buddhism, Natalie Goldberg. I will be rereading The Long Quiet Highway because it seriously has the kind of words that lift up the huge boulders of my own anxieties and shines a light on them to help scare away the monsters underneath. She shares with her readers a few conversations she has with her Zen masters, and how she describes her time with them is sometimes how I feel about Jesus. Natalie often says when she would listen to the master speak, she frequently didn't understand what they were saying, BUT it felt like what they were saying was true. She would even probe with more questions to help sort out their discussions, but often times her teacher's answers still did not clarify a thing. I think this is how the disciples felt about Jesus,too.
Jesus had been working on Jesus for a very long time, learning to be Jesus, being Jesus, etc.. (Not in any way phony, but being both God and man had to take a little work navigating:-).)The Zen Master's had practiced their buddhism for years and years and years, thereby, earning the name "Master". These teacher's were used to themselves, their thoughts, their minds, their way of being. Then Jesus and the Zen Master's get students/followers, and here's when it becomes confusing:-). The disciples, me, Natalie, and the other students all sit there listening to our teachers. Jesus says things like, "The lamp of the body is the eye. Therefore, when your eye is good, your whole body also is full of light. But when your eye is bad, your body also is full of darkness." (Luke 11:34) Zen master's say things like, "Mountains are not mountains. Mountains are not mountains. Mountains are not mountains." Take these words at face value, you get stares. Take these words in layers, and it opens up to you the wholeness of Jesus and the wholeness of perspective. Natalie quotes Dogen, Japan's foremost religious philosopher and thinker, "When you walk in the mist, you get wet." She then says, "You might not understand everything, but just by being here, you absorb the teachings." I think as one who follows Jesus, I can definately understand this.
They say Buddhism started about 500 years before Christianity. I think Jesus just might have thanked Buddha for kinda helping him out. Students before (and after) Christ might have posed quizzical, but that still didn't stop them from believing that what they were hearing rang true.

Honestly, I just needed to get it together!!

I've been brewing over creating a blog for months now. Idea's would pop into my head and I'd be like, "Man, I wanna share it!" But what really has been keeping me from it all was a name...a name for my blog. And today it came. Aaaah. Welcome. It's nice to be back. It's good to be here. Be on the lookout for more, much, and many excerpts from my daily life, our daily lives, specialties, delicacies and the like. I hope you enjoy the view!