My Old Friend, This Blog

One season passed since I've posted.

Family, friends, vegetables, flowers, kayaking, hiking, canoeing, swimming in lakes, bike riding, tennis, festivals, food, and laughing. So much good laughing. Good crying, too, shared and bubbled up from hearts grown warm with love in moments tender.

Renewed I pick up where June left off. Caroline and I embrace fresh studies together. Just as my shoulders surged with power while pulling and pushing a canoe oar through summer waters clear and deep, my mind rises to the challenge of new ideas, words, phrases, and disciplines. Trigonometry, government, economics, physics, the history of painting lure me into worlds vast and different. Desire to dig into and move through places unexplored energizes me.

French language resumption finds an elastic mind snapping back, recalling a language unused for a quarter of a year. Muscle memory. Feels good, powerful, natural. Challenging.

Refreshment removes tension's blockage, allows freedom of thought, the ability to concentrate, embrace, enjoy.

Experiences varied and vast awaken thought to analogy, metaphor, simile.

Summer behind, autumn, winter, and spring ahead to capture observation, color, sound, texture, temperature, taste, and spirit.

It's good to be back here, dancing with you, old friend.

Languages

I am in love with languages, particularly English, Italian, and French.

My goal is to reach fluency in at least Italian or French before I die. Preferably both. I am a long long way from my goal.

Indeed, the journey is most enjoyable. I am in no hurry. My pleasure spurs me on.

Just now I have completed the Rosetta Stone French Course, Level One. Tingly with excitement, as though I've won a gold medal.

Achievement.

My Completion certificate for French, Level One joins my Italian, Level One certificate earned this spring.

On to French, Level Two.

The training begins!

Enthusiasm!!

May Sunrise

Golden sunbeams finger into the yard outside my bedroom window illuminating flowers, shrubs, trees, glinting sparkles off a window-silled, petite jar of three-year old lavender long-since carefully plucked and dried from my garden. Flowing white sheer curtains lift and billow in the gentle breeze. I push them aside, view the lovingly planted yard beyond my window. Birch trees to remind of Colorado. An azalea from Tom's dad's funeral. Poppies Cassie planted for their silky orange petals. A peony from Grandma's Idaho home. The tawny fence Tom built.

Lifting the lavender bottle in my fingers I carefully uncork it. Old, faded lavender buds quickly release delicious fragrance as pure and potent as new plump, vivid purple buds. Eyes shut, lips curve into relaxed smile.

Comparison. Just as elderly people lose the bloom of youth, fading into tiny, wrinkled, stiff beings so do aged lavender buds appear less potent, less useful. But therein lies deception. For aged lavender and human beings hold powerful gifts. Magic. Just as dried lavender's aroma remains strong, soothing, and sensual, the wisdom of our beloved elders releases into our lives offerings plentiful, aid comforting, encouragement and insight matured from when youth's dew smoothed now crinkly skin.

Lavender buds spill onto my sheets. Each breath reminds of bygone summers, of summer fast approaching. The past reaches out timelessly, infusing the present with its lovely glory, pointing gracefully to a not-quite budding future.

Beloved aged-ones come to mind, their gentleness and quiet strength pulse rhythmically, caressing my heart though they are far away. May my life's late years offer perfumes of experience, wisdom, and beauty, fingers of hope wafting through time, gifts offered from gifts received.

Delicious Breeze

Slow Revisited

"In this media-drenched, data-rich, channel-surfing, computer-gaming age, we have lost the art of doing nothing, of shutting out the background noise and distractions, of slowing down and simply being alone with our thoughts. Boredom - the word itself hardly existed 150 years ago - is a modern invention. Remove all stimulation, and we fidget, panic and look for something, anything, to do to make use of the time. When did you last see someone just gazing out the window on a train? Everyone is too busy reading the paper, playing video games, listening to iPods, working on the laptop, yammering into mobile phones. [Add texting, Facebook, and Twitter here.]

Instead of thinking deeply, or letting an idea simmer in the back of the mind, our instinct now is to reach for the nearest sound bite. In modern warfare, correspondents in the field and pundits in the studio spew out instant analyses of events as they occur. Often their insights turn out to be wrong. But that hardly matters nowadays; in the land of speed, the man with the instant response is king. With satellite feeds and twenty-four-hour news channels, the electronic media is dominated by what one French sociologist dubbed 'le fast thinker' - a person who can, without skipping a beat, summon up a glib answer to any question.

The anecdotal evidence is everywhere. In Los Angeles, a man starts a fire at a supermarket checkout because the customer ahead of him is taking too long to pack his groceries. A woman scratches the paintwork of a car that beats her to a parking spot in London. A company executive tears into a flight attendant when his plane is forced to spend an extra twenty minutes circling Heathrow airport before landing. 'I want to land now!' he shouts, like a spoiled child. 'Now, now, now!' ~~Carl Honoré, In Praise of Slowness, Challenging the Cult of Speed

I come back to Carl's book again and again as the Cult of Speed rudely, vulgarly tries to stick its nose into my life.

In my neighborhood park, on a wooden bench, under a tall decorative walkway lamp, in the last remaining light of the evening sat a thirty-something woman. Smartly dressed, posture straight yet comfortable, her thumb between the pages of a closed book in her hand, she pondered. Right there in the park, surrounded by flowers, evergreens, expansive lawn, sunset's first glow, and amidst people she sat thinking, mulling, lost in thought. Her face relaxed, pleasant. I smiled at her, she smiled and nodded at me. She seemed at peace yet somehow out of place as the world scurried. At the same time she was the most in-place, sensible, real part of the landscape. Engaged in life as opposed to driven by it.

I think of her often and am encouraged. The Cult of Speed lost that day. The woman won.

And so did I.

Sunny Tuesday

After a cold - for us - night with temps in the low 30's, today dawned azure and misty. The mist surrendered to the blue. Our closet rattled. The tennis rackets and balls wanted out, to play.

Yippee!

I have to say, I do feel sorry for people who have to work inside on days like today. A cubicle, office, or any building must seem like a prison when the sun bathes a perfect spring day. Flowering trees, bushes, and bulbs in yards and parks. Delicious air, ebullient scenery.

Exuberance! Tom and I on the court whooping when we slice an excellent return, chuckling when we goof. Across the park that way a group of young men similarly whoop and laugh, breaking into impulsive back-slapping and noogie-giving. Over the other way another group of kids laugh on the baseball diamond, suddenly, energetically wrestling each other to the ground, legs and arms sticking out from a mass of joyful grunts and victorious proclamations. More impulsive back-slapping.

Leisure spent with neighbors in the pursuit of pleasant sports lifts spirits and calms bodies. Friendliness, sweat, courtesy, fun.

Afterwards, my tennis partner and I share a bistro lunch together, then off to work, Tom to his job, I to mine. Both of us thoroughly enjoy our occupations. Most of the time.

Today, my work consists of tutoring my youngest in geometry, then allowing her the pleasure of tutoring me in French. Outside. On the sun porch. Amidst awakening strawberry plants, California poppies, oregano, lavender, sage, and chrysanthemums.

Below is a photo of my tutor. While cradling our French text, Caroline enjoys a grissini (Italian crispy breadstick) from the school-restaurant where Cassie learns her culinary arts. She and I ate there yesterday, in the Renaissance Room, with Cassie as our waitress.





I hope where ever you are that you make time for fun with those you love, that you open yourself up to serendipity, that life gives you a special and good surprise today.

Common Art

Taking the jar off the frozen tomatoes from my freezer exposed this little ice sculpture. Fascinating. Stopping, stooping to get a closer look, marveling at the intricacy and beauty, all this left a question in my mind. Do other people stop and ponder life's seemingly ordinary occurrences the way I do? I wonder. So many lovely things, right under my nose, right in my hands. Like the bubbles in the sink as I wash dishes, silky, tickling, popping, each bubble displaying a rainbow of color.


Like sharp, cold, glistening ice crystals forming above frozen tomatoes.

Simple things. Beautiful things. Everyday things.

Fabulous!

Please click on the photos to see the ice crystals more clearly. They are so pretty, and amazing.

Tennis, Anyone?

My Aunt Joyce never stops learning. She never stops, at all. After she turned forty she learned to fly an airplane. She also took up golf, and tennis. And those are just the hobbies I know about. Forever my role model, I think of dear Auntie Joyce every time I pick up my tennis racket.

Every. Single. Time.

Naturally I thought of her this morning when Tom and I gathered our rackets and two bags of tennis balls from the closet. We practiced serving today and even had a few good volleys going by the time we were ready to stop.

We've played on and off, mostly off. Things get in the way, you know. Kids. Jobs. Yardwork. Housework. Oregon rain. Life.

But we decided this will be the summer of tennis! Perhaps we'll even work up to playing a game someday.

Like any discipline - whether work or play - practice is the key. I have to practice baking to learn to get it right, and cooking, and teaching. And tennis.

Tom and I had a blast today. At one point, after a good volley, Tom said, "That was good practice." I responded with, "It's all practice. And it's all fun." We laughed.

Life is full of delights. Pick a few. Like Aunt Joyce.

And practice.

(Incidentally, my aunt played tennis for nearly forty years. In her mid-80's her doctor recommended she stop after a fall on the tennis court. She groused about it but didn't want to risk becoming hurt and gumming up the good life she carries on with Uncle Floyd. Wise move, Auntie. She's still learning, though. A very high-tech octogenarian.)

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Today is Farmer's Market day for our family.

Aisles and booths of beautiful food await us. We see, we smell, we savor. We select. Into our basket go the freshest most delicious vegetables, herbs, meats, eggs, and fruit. Vivid colors, varied textures, greens, reds, yellows. Ruffly lettuce, smooth duck, geese, and chicken eggs, sleek green and white leeks, pungent chives, cilantro, and parsley, crunchy orange carrots, red chili peppers ripe for heating a tongue, lifting a smile.

As we carry our precious cargo home enthusiastic sharing ensues. Ideas about egg dishes, soups, salads, savory meats rubbed with herbs are cheerily blurted. Senses stimulated with the sights, sounds, smells, textures, and tastes of the edibles enrich our food experience even as they will soon invigorate our bodies.

A quote from Mireille Guiliano comes to mind.

The best cook in the world can't make good food from poor ingredients; and it takes some perverse genius to turn great ingredients into bad food. Good food responds best to the simplest preparation; you really can't go wrong when you start with quality.

The Farmer's Market, bringing the best of the earth to our kitchen table.

Be the Reason for the Smile

My cousin sent this our way. Thought it a good story and a wonderful attitude to mark down in my blog, to remember. Hope it inspires you.

"A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign that said: 'I am blind, please help.' There were only a few coins in the hat.

A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.

Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were.

The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, 'Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?'

The man said, 'I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way. I wrote: Today is a beautiful day; but I cannot see it.'

Both signs told people that the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign reminded people how fortunate they were to have their sight.

Should we be surprised that the second sign was more effective?

The Moral of the Story:

Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be innovative. Think differently and positively. When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear. It's a beautiful thing to see a person smiling. But even more beautiful is knowing that you are the reason for the smile! Faith is not about everything turning out OK; Faith is about being OK no matter how things turn out."

Bright, Bright, Sunshiny Day

With the warm and sun comes energy! It's marvelous.

Tom and I juiced the last of our stored autumn apples which we'd picked at the farm last October. Oh my! Equal in taste to the juice squeezed right there on the farm all those months ago. Amazing flavor.

Bright idea? Pour a little of that sweet nectar around the roasting sage/garlic/lemon zested pork chops. Yes!

Add to the pork a little pile of homemade egg noodles dressed with homegrown, homemade pesto from last fall. Mercy me!

And it was so quick and easy.

Spring Break plus sunshine and the creativity flows.

I even washed from the car the grime of a thousand winter trips.

Welcome, Spring. You are most appreciated!

With My Own Two Hands

With no school to teach, no driving to and fro, my time is my own during this Spring Break Monday.

To the kitchen I go! A hankering to bake French Bread from an old family recipe - recently found - has been realized. The loaves are rising to the warmth of the wood stove.

The hankering was not completely assuaged with the forming of bread. No, noodles beckoned. Homemade Egg Noodles, to be exact, made Old Style with a countertop, my hands, a rolling pin, and a sharp knife. The slender pasta rests and dries on wire racks. Tomorrow they will be added to Cassie's fresh made elk stock and other ingredients to create Beef Stroganoff.

This is my love. Creating. Expressing myself. Bringing smiles to the faces of family and friends and contentment to their bodies through the sharing and eating of good food made with love.

The house smells heavenly and I am satisfied.

So is my hankering.

For now.

SPRING BREAK!!!

Cares of routine evaporate quickly!

Fun bubbles with enthusiastic giggles.

Places to visit. People to play with.

Supermoons that mesmerize, foods that brighten, hugs of love, kisses of warmth.

Frisky pup.

Colorspots of flowers shoot forth. Delightful!

Quiet phone.

Happy children in park stop and chat, excited for Freedom.

Long-time neighbor friend, relaxes, smiles, shares a gentle greeting.

Carefree evenings, leisurely mornings.

Uncluttered mind. Time to choose or not.

Meditation without stopwatch.

Living unfettered.

Ten Days. Spring Break!

How I love thee.

St. Patrick's Day

May your day be merry, full of the Luck o' the Irish. May laughter bubble up out of your belly, and may your belly be full of good Irish food.

And most of all, may you be ever gratefull for the good things that surround you. There is always something for which to be thankful!

Cheers!

Stir the Soup

A zen monk once said: When you stir the soup, stir the soup. When you wash your hands, wash your hands. When you listen to your friend, listen to your friend.

So often our minds wander among a variety of thoughts, most of which are about things not directly in front of us. We are stirring the soup with our hands but our minds are a million miles away, pondering the past, the future, the To-Do List.

Today I absent-mindedly kissed Tom good-bye before I headed out the door and he turned back to eating his lunch. There was some place I had to be, so I left. Then I remembered, when you stir the soup, stir the soup. I turned around on the walkway to the car and headed back to the house. I found Tom. I told him about stirring the soup.

"I kissed you, but I didn't really kiss you. I was thinking about all that I was about to do and all that I have to do later."

We kissed.

And it felt very very good. Each of our faces genuinely smiled with contentment. A moment realized.

From now on I hope to remember to stir the soup when I'm stirring the soup, to wash my hands when I'm washing my hands, to listen to my friend when I'm listening to my friend, and to kiss my husband when I'm kissing my husband.

It can only make life more peaceful, more meaningful, and much more pleasant.

Stir the soup!

Sincere Realness

Yesterday I heard a monk speaking about an experience he had when he was the chef in a monastery. He'd begun to feel his age, wondered at his usefulness. He was all of 45 at the time. While working at meal-making in the orderly, peaceful kitchen he noticed the shelf of large, metal tea kettles. They'd been in service a long time. "They were ample, round, merry, and a bit banged-up but still they supplied their purpose faithfully. Dents and all. I realized one could apply thick amounts of wax into the dents and scratches, polish the kettles up, and make them look new. But then they couldn't be used, the wax would melt and what a mess. I realized at that moment that those kettles, with their dents and scratches, were sincere. They were real. And I with my wrinkles and imperfections - really though, imperfect compared to what? - am still fulfilling my purpose, growing, learning, and offering a service to my fellow human beings. Dents and wrinkles are real, sincere, they testify that something has been around awhile. I thought, 'If those merry kettles can keep at it, well, so can I.'"

I like that. For a couple of reasons. First, I like the idea that my wrinkles, gray hair, and scars are testimonies that I've been here awhile and have done things. I've smiled, and slept, and burned my hands while cooking. I fell off my bike, and broke a glass door with my elbow. My hair is graying, my hands have arthritis. But I am still useful, can still ride my bike, can offer my take on 54 years of walking this planet.

The second thing I'm drawn to in the monk's observation is the idea of sincerity, realness. When I think of tea kettles masked in wax and polish, unusable, I think of the things we do to ourselves that mask our sincerity, and often times render our experience, wisdom, and talent hidden and useless out of fear that we won't measure up should the real be revealed. Things we do to our bodies, our homes, the formation of attitudes that are not our own but absorbed from others, the aping of behavior in order to 'fit in', the things we insecurely keep to ourselves which, if offered to the world, could make a good difference.

It seems to me that we as a society are doing an incredible disservice to ourselves in our inability to embrace what is sincere.

Today, I have a fresh perspective on my dented, scratched pots and pans. Old friends, they are, and I shall never be ashamed to pull them out of the cupboard in front of guests while I prepare a special meal. And I shall never be ashamed of my laugh lines, my sleep crevices, my crooked fingers, and my gray hair. I am still merry and useful.

And so are you!

A Gentle Washing of the Brain Can Be a Good Thing

Will skepticism hurt your brain? No, but cynicism will. Skepticism implies open-mindedness and the willingness to suspend judgment until both sides of an argument are considered, and this enhances neural functioning, particularly in the frontal lobes. A cynic, however, is a person who has taken their disbelief to a point of emotional distrust and rejection that borders on hostility toward the other point of view. This 'limbic' personality is pessimistic and is so neurologically dangerous it can even shorten your life.

Unfortunately, as far as the brain is concerned, negative speech has a stronger effect than positive speech. Negative remarks and memories are more strongly encoded in the brain, and they are the most difficult memories to eradicate. In fact, simply being around negative people will make you more prejudiced, because listening to negative opinions can easily undermine your positive opinions about virtually anything.

Being around negative people and/or listening to angry speech causes the brain to mirror the angry content, it emotionally reacts to the harsh, angry, or contemptuous faces of those around us with equal harshness, anger, or contempt. Simply reading emotionally evocative words stimulates the brain in ways that resemble the encoding of traumatic memories. The brain thinks it's really happening and retains the input as such.

Even watching violence on the news, or taking in a violent movie, will make us feel more angry, aggressive, negative, and powerless. Same thing when listening to songs with hostile lyrics even if the song is meant to be humorous. Violent video games increase aggressive behavior in children and young adults.

...our brains are designed to mimic the emotional expressions of others. Not only does this allow us to feel what others feel, but it causes what is known as 'emotional contagion,' a universal neurological process whereby subjective feelings are transferred to other people and spread through social groups. So, how fast does it take the brain to react to another person's emotion? When you see an angry expression, it takes less than one second for your brain to respond with fear.

Experience informs that this is all true. Constant bombardment of 'news' has wreaked havoc on our society. People are literally losing themselves to the anger, violence, fear, and political malice constantly pumped into our radios, televisions, periodicals, and computers. Frightening. Formerly sane people become aggressive news-zombies. They gather and emote, quoting their leaders, the talking heads and political forces who spoon-feed them, transforming thinking people into emotionally reactive drones. No matter how you look at it, exposure to, or expression of, any form of anger is hazardous, not only to the health of the individual, but to society as well.

We are not only bludgeoned with negativity from the media in all its forms. Seems negativity is everywhere we go; church, school, shopping centers, doctors' offices, banks. Is there a place that doesn't exert pressure on us to have an emotional response in order to goad us into capitulating to their 'desire for us?' Fear of hell without the comprehension of heaven. Fear of ignorance without the understanding of wisdom. Fear of losing status without the knowledge of self-respect. Fear of ill-health without information or realistic hope. Fear of poverty without the grasp of wealth's burden. We are coerced into fear, our brains react accordingly, and before we know it we are behaving unreasonably, though we are certain we are quite sane. We are feeling, not thinking. Emotions are fairweather friends, unsteady, unpredictable, undependable.

Reacting from fear is unbalanced. When we allow ourselves to be goaded thusly, we make mistakes. We must take back our minds, our whole minds. We must allow our brains to function as they were designed to function, with integration. We will still make mistakes, but at least they will be more along the lines of educated mistakes rather than strictly fear-based. If we can turn down the fearful negativity, opportunities for solutions will not only be more apparent, but more easily and quickly accessible. We can climb out of our default mode of being cattle-chute manipulated by unreasonable fear.

One of the story lines in C. S. Lewis' Narnia series which sticks with me best is the idea of the Narnian trees who forgot they were free to move around, to dance, to interact. Every now and then a Narnian would get the feeling that one of the trees was beginning to remember, to awaken. It made Lucy sad that the trees were asleep in the light and glory of Narnia.

We are asleep, too, and it makes me sad. We are allowing fear-based spells to still us, to dull and change us into who we don't want to be.

Acceptance of who we really are - human beings with strengths and weaknesses - coupled with compassion can begin the long process of awakening ourselves to factual thinking. And it must come from within, from each of us unplugging from the IV drip of doom. Anger - as a form of communication and dialogue - never works. It can injure our brains. Jesus didn't amass followers through fear but through truth, hope, and love in all its forms.

Compassion and forgiveness can heal those brain structures damaged by anger. Kindness. Attention. Sensitivity. Voices low and slow. Patience. Respect. Refraining from sarcasm, name-calling, swearing, belittling, and threats. Forgiveness. Self-awareness to be able to sense rising emotions in order to take proper precautions. Awareness of non-verbal communication in yourself and others that can serve as comfort or warning. Taking equal responsibility, working together, problem solving. Remember, a person needs to hear five compliments before he or she can listen nondefensively to a criticism.

A little mindfulness, awareness, thinking for oneself, whatever you want to call it will be a pleasant beginning. It won't change the world today. The Middle East will still be in turmoil. The U.S. will still have more debt than our brains can fathom. Gas will still be way too expensive. China will still be afraid of the Dalai Lama. Republicans will still battle Democrats. Some preachers will still try to scare the hell out of you. Health costs will still be obscene.

But. But. But in our everyday lives we will come to remember that, yes, we are free to move around, to interact. We can dance. Whenever we want to. With anyone who will join us no matter what their religious beliefs or lack thereof, no matter their political views, no matter their station in life, their age, their education, their health. We can dance. Everyday. The dance of kindness. The dance of inclusion and respect. The gift of the dance is the power of the people to take back their minds and to become a force of wisdom against an angry negativity.

We are the people.

Unplug.

Awaken.

And unite.

One family, one couple, one person at a time

(Italics are exerpts from Andrew Newberg, M.D. and Mark Robert Waldman's book, How God Changes Your Brain)

Always Room for Forgiveness

We do not really know how to forgive until we know what it is to be forgiven.  
Therefore we should be glad that we can be forgiven by others. It is our  
forgiveness of one another that makes the love of Jesus manifest in our lives,  
for in forgiving one another we act towards one another  
as He has acted towards us. ~~Thomas Merton
 
To forgive is the highest, most beautiful form of love. In return, you will receive 
untold peace and happiness. ~~Robert Muller

It is freeing to become aware that we do not have to be victims of our past  
and can learn new ways of responding. But there is a step beyond  
this recognition... It is the step of forgiveness. Forgiveness is love  
practiced among people who love poorly. It sets us free without  
wanting anything in return. ~~Henri Nouwen

You tend to feel sorrow over the circumstances instead 
of rage, you tend to feel sorry for the person rather than 
angry with him.  You tend to have nothing left to remember to say about it all.  You understand the suffering that drove 
the offense to begin with. You are not waiting for anything. 
You are not wanting anything.  There is no lariat snare around 
your ankle stretching from way back there to here.  You are 
free to go.  It may not have turned out to be a happily ever after, but most certainly there is now a fresh Once Upon 
a Time waiting for you from this day forward. ~~Pinkola-Estes

To carry a grudge is like being stung to death by one bee. ~~William H. Walton

Forgiveness is the scent that the rose leaves on 
the heel that crushes it. ~~Anonymous

A Tuesday in February

So many things coming at me all the time. All. The. Time. Keeping up is a challenge, but usually one I confidently manage. Thank God.

However, sometimes steamrolling happens. And tumbling as in the ocean's surf. Too much in my brain; clutter, seemingly impossible-to-solve problems. My limbic system is overloaded. Fear, panic, confusion, distress, anger.

This morning exhaustion reminds me that I need to rest and re-evaluate and for good reasons. Not only will I fail at constructively moving forward in my life, but my body will abruptly stop me if I don't take the time to relieve the log-jam in my mind.

So, I stop. I go back to bed after dropping precious daughter off at school in the early morning hours.

And I sleep the sleep of the just. I devour the sensation. My brain works out my problems while my body comfortably rests and restores in a sweet-smelling bed, in a sunlit room. Two hours. In the end I dream of a beautiful, white room, walled with clear, sun-streaming windows, a sparkling, wide-stretching wood floor, smooth and perfectly clean. Empty of furniture. It is an image of my mind. Stillness, loveliness, order replace confusion. Serenity. Relief.

The problems that unsettle me no longer do. Smiling a silly, happy smile I yawn, dress, chuckle. Life makes sense again. I feel like cooking a meal, like teaching algebra, like studying my current topics, like washing the towels, like being cheerful, patient, and kind.

What a difference ceasing makes, allowing my depleted body and mind to sort, organize, and rest. Catch-up.

The day is calm, quiet, productive, nourishing.

Thank God.

Secrets and Sadness

We all have secrets, of this I am most certain. Who can fully know our minds? Our hearts? Our inmost desires and dreams? Our pain?

Some happy secrets shoot out of us like sunbeams through stormclouds. More frightening secrets tend to fester deep and angry like cancer.

Some secrets heal us, some slowly kill.

The secret to secrets is to know when the secret is destructive before the damage is irreparable. To know and to act. To act and to share. To share, to become vulnerable, to cry, to share some more, to allow another to carve away a chunk of secret in order to carry that portion for you. To let go.

To simplify.

To allow time to heal what we ourselves are powerless to tend.

To trust that our Benevolent God is working carefully, knitting what looks like an utter, knotty mess into something beautiful, somewhere, for someone.

To stand and not fall. To maybe waver, but stand. To trust when all control is out of our hands, when we stand naked in the howling storm of situation, wind-whipped, drenched, mud-spattered. We stand.

We just stand.

'Infobesity'

Contemplation can be defined as paying attention. It is about a way of seeing. We live in a world today where we are deluged with information. The emails come in. The mobiles ring. A text here. A website there. Excited by the process, we can all too easily become people who are skimming over the surface of life. John Naish has described our condition as infobesity, seeing it as a different sort of fatness and producing profound stress. There is a sense that we need to slow down, to settle and pay attention to things in a new sort of way.~~Chris Sunderland, The Dream that inspired the Bible

Recently Cecily posted this quote over on her blog. My Tassie friend and I are often on the same wavelength even while we are in opposite seasons. It's kind of fun and sort of mystical how that works.

I shall let the quote speak for itself, and allow you, dear reader, to ponder it with me.

1/1/11

Happy Fresh Start!!

I love the blank slate that I realize when I awaken on January First. It's just another day, sure, but we humans are benefited by the notion of resetting our personal clocks. Feels hopeful, somehow, like we can junk all the bad stuff and start anew.

Works for me!

So far, so good.

Lasagna on the way, sunshine beaming down, happy chattering sounds of kids in the other room, and the pup is curled up in bed resting.

Good omens, all.

Let's make it a good one, eh?

Seasoned Love

My friend Tim's heartfelt thoughts concerning his 13th anniversary to his beloved wife brought tears to my eyes. Lovely.

"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away." ~~ George Eliot

Isn't that just beautiful! This kind of love is born from experience, from the struggles of life. It is not immature love, nor fairy tale love.

It's the real deal.

November 30, 2010: Love Never Ceases

Here it is, the last day of NaBloPoMo, thirty days of blogging in November. I made it!

What can I say about the experience of pulling something out of my head or heart every day for a month? In looking back I see a marvelous reassurance, one certainly not expected. With four kids, each in a sort of transition, a husband busy and in need of a supportive wife, plus life such as it is for all of us, I find myself daily pulled in at least a dozen directions, most of which are not predictable. Most nights I lie down in bed deeply sighing with relief to have made it through and at the same time wondering how in the world I did.

Thirty posts. I ponder, noticing what? Noticing that a constant pulsing flame of me remains unharmed, unthreatened, creative, hopeful, faithful. Surprise, for I know that it is fed by something 'other'. If that flame lived and died by my own feeding and care I know it would long ago have been sacrificed to aid others, for I can use all the help I can muster, so draining is life.

Not only does this steady spirit-flame remain, but it does not ever flicker. As though completely independent of my control, its existence warms, supports, confirms. I often complain that while I take care of everyone else who takes care of me? It's a selfish complaint, and an unfounded one.

Examination of this blog-post experiment reveals reassurance that, yes, Someone constantly cares for me in unique and beautiful ways. The fire never goes out. Hope remains. Energy and creativity for another day. Stamina to walk while being bombarded with life's urgency and absurdity. Belief that all things happen for a reason. Trust that my Supply-Source is Good. Love abundant enough to care not only for those I cherish, but to maintain the soul of me.

My response? Delight and an outpouring of love for this Source, this God, this Creator of life who delicately, faithfully gives good gifts which are sometimes wrapped in scary-looking packages.

Thanks for reading! I'll be back again. Soon.

November 29, 2010: 29 Degrees

It's cold - for us - this morning.

It's also the last week of fall term classes at the Culinary Institute.

We're coming off a fun-filled holiday weekend.

Cassie: "Oh man. Talk about a crawl to the finish line."

Yep. It's that sort of morning.

We'll get there, where ever there is.

Have a great last Monday of November, 2010!

November 28, 2010: Sunday Morning and All is Well

Train noises. Mournful horns. Chug-chug-chugging. Clinking clanking. Grandfather engines and cars autographed with proud hobo etchings move carefully through our community.

I hear the trains from my bed at night and in the morning. I like the sounds. They comfort and reassure.

With roots reaching back into our American past these friendly behemoths remind that hard times and good times come and go but the human spirit endures through all.

Trains settled the American West, built and destroyed towns and cities with their presence or lack thereof. Trains have seen us through wars, economic hardships, natural disasters, presidential elections, and glory days. Songs have always been written about trains, terrific songs which seem to strike a similar, almost primal chord in everyone.

When my dad was a little boy in Oklahoma during the Depression his brothers and he used to sneak down to the train tracks to the large hobo village where friendly men, down on their luck, would tell the little boys stories and offer them tasty hobo stew. Shoplifting techniques were discussed, music played, camaraderie abounded. Pennies were laid on the tracks for heavy train wheels to flatten. Dad still smiles a far-away smile when he recounts those hobo village excursions.

In this age of technology which renders daily tools ancient in a matter of months, keeps us scrambling to stay current while paying for constant updates and 'the latest thing', where personal automobiles are more about luxury than longevity, trains steadfastly roll on moving food and supplies here and there all over the country like stalwart sentries from the past, guarding, watching, reminding of simpler times, hardier people.

Soothing to me are the sounds I hear while lying in my bed or moving about during a quiet moment in the day. "We've been through it all," they seem to say. "You'll be okay. Americans find a way through good times and bad."

Got a hankering for hobo stew, a good story, and lively music tonight.

November 27, 2010: Breathing Room

With the Thanksgiving Feast and Festivities behind, leftovers aplenty for a few days, house not a wreck, kids calm, and most of my Christmas shopping done, I find myself in a sweet spot. I can breathe.

Rather than churning chaotically, I find words settling in my mind like a downy blanket over a calmly sleeping body. Peace.

I'm not going to push it by trying to conjure up an interesting blog post today. Embracing the temporary stillness, the contentment seems the better path.

So, yeah, here's to you, readers, whatever your frame of mind. May this transition from one holiday to the next find you recovering from energy spent, hopeful for joy, love, and goodness in the weeks to come.

Orange juice, yogurt, cacao nibs, goji berries, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Cheers!

November 26, 2010: Get Your Chestnuts Out of the Fire

Jack Frost has been nipping at our noses lately so we'd thought we make some chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

Except we don't have an open fire.

An oven will do.

Yum.

November 25, 2010: Thanksgiving

Mixing it up a little bit by getting back to the beginning.

Pilgrims helping Indians. Indians helping pilgrims. Neighbors celebrating life with neighbors, the strong help the weak, the fortunate the unfortunate.

My family and I will be doing this today in lieu of our own feast and feet-up lazying about on this fine Thanksgiving Afternoon.

We'll feast tomorrow.

Let us remember that we are in this together, we need one another, we are blessed by one another, and life can always be enriched when helping hands are offered.

Whether you lend aid to your community or to the hardworking folks in your own kitchen who are preparing your holiday feast, your efforts are not wasted but are appreciated for the beautiful kindness they represent.

Happy Thanksgiving to All!

(Now, please pass the turkey, spuds, and cranberry sauce!)

November 24, 2010: Secrets and Surprises

I've posted here every day since November first, determined to keep it up until the 30th. This task is not new to me, having previously participated.

But it is so hard this time!

Difficult circumstances turned to blessedness, which could switch back to difficult at any moment, flow in and out of life these days.

Surprises await, fulfillment of dreams long-dreamed promise comfort and joy.

Good news and bad news and frightful news and silly news only a phone call away.

Up and down, laughter and tears, restorative sleeps, wrecked nights of tossing, turning anguish, too many words said, and not enough.

A blog is not the forum for sharing these particular evolving situations. In the past, yes. But not this time. Not these things.

Masking my life from you dear readers and from family squeezes and tears. You don't need to know, and they couldn't handle the things I would share. But, oh, how I want to share, feel the need to open up and pour myself onto my friendly blog pages for you, my steadfast friends, to read and thus know.

So trivia I write here, while my paper journals stack up, pages filled and puffed together, scribbled emotions and details trembling within their covers.

To learn to keep my fingers mute, as I'm learning to guard my blathery mouth, challenges.

To write and say nothing at all when I want to say everything is straight-jacket torturous.

Life overflows. I'm learning by heaps and gulps, my spirit now chastised, now held in protective embrace, confused to sobs, then enlightened to gentle, exhilerated whimpers. But self-hush, self-hush, self-hush.

I feel I am wasting your time, dear reader, and for that I am truly sorry.

Six more posts to go.

November 23, 2010: Sanitation

Chef Clive teaches sanitation to aspiring chefs.

He's British, with a thick Cockney accent.

"After using the rest room what do you do? Ya wash yer 'ands of course. And really wash them. If there are paper towels, use them to dry yer 'ands, and then to open the door. If there's only an air dryer, and, if you're here at the college where we have handicap buttons to automatically open the door, use them. But don't touch them. You use yer ass. Either cheek will do."

And he demonstrates the moves with his own bum.

The class laughs in unison with him.

Sometimes college is very very fun.

And informative.

November 22, 2010: 'Sunny and WARM'

Heard from Ben's bosses just now via e-mail. In La Paz, Mexico, they report that, while there were some challenging seas everyone is still alive. (Whew...) The weather is '85 degrees and the water 76-78 degrees! Sunny and WARM!!'

I'll let the photos Sam and Nancy sent me of Ben speak for themselves. (In case you are new to my blog, Ben, my eldest, is crewing for Sam and Nancy on their 42' sailboat along the shores of Mexico. As you can see, it's a rough life.)


I think you can agree that Mexico agrees with my son.


Nothing like snagging a big fish out of the ocean...or so I'm told.


Twelve pound tuna and one happy fisherman.


Sam and Ben in the cabin of the Windfall.


Ben snorkeling somewhere off the Mexican coast. Since I adore swimming, I really turn green with envy when I look at this photo. And then I grin with delight. What an adventure!

Thanks, Sam and Nancy, for letting me use your photos of my son!

November 21, 2010: Respite

In a meaning-full life one must create moments of respite here and there. Otherwise the meaningfulness turns into busyness turns into hecticness turns into resentment.

Tom and I grocery shopped early Saturday morning relieved to beat the mad stampeding crowds soon to overtake stores and shoppers everywhere.

Unpacking the groceries gratefully, rather than my usual habit of talking, unpacking, ordering the kids around, and feeling fatigued from my efforts, I found myself calm. Not just a nice switch, but a choice.

Carrying the radish leaves to the compost pile offered another wise choice; yoga and tai chi atop and beneath golden maple leaves, facing a cheery, low, noon sun. Cool, fresh air filled my lungs, tightened my face, relaxed my mind.

One of the postures implored me to look all around, above, below, behind. What a beautiful day! Gold, blue, white, green, brown, red, orange, black, beagle. Yes, Sammy came out to join me.

Stretch. Bend. Breathe.

Back inside for some yogurt with nuts and a cup of Jasmine tea.

And it was only noon!

I feel great inside and out.

The giving of thanks has begun!

November 20, 2010: Let It Be

"And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be." ~~ The Beatles

Driving busy streets as the storm boiled all around, I was cheered by a patch of blue holding out overhead in the southeastern sky. I told Cassie, "Look at it. For a long time. Say good-bye. It's supposed to disappear for quite a few days."

Black clouds poured rain. Wind lifted leaves, circling them chaotically. Darkness descended much too early.

The morning after, my sleepy eyes expected to see gray gray gray, wet wet wet.

Surprise!

A luminescent golden birch tree framed by a sunny blue sky filled my window. Arising from bed for a fuller view I was delighted to behold raindrop diamonds on every limb and leaf of every tree, shrub, and blade of grass.

A glorious, fresh, after-the-storm morning!

Let it Be.

November 19, 2010: Holly and Berries

In the midst of yet another busy day I stopped to walk myself and my pup before the skies opened up with their rain from a newly settling storm.

As if crunchy colorful leaves overhead and underfoot weren't gift enough, a shiny-leafed, plump-berried holly bush made itself known as it peeped out from amidst a hedge.

"Look Sammy! Christmas!"

Yes, I said it out loud. Yes, to a doggie. No, he didn't answer.

But my step was livelier for the duration of my most pleasant stroll.

Enthusiastic anticipation.

November 18, 2010: Living the Dream

My son Ben is somewhere in the Sea of Cortez on a sailboat sailing, swimming, and texting his brother.

He emails that I should go there, that I'd love it.

Some places are private and you can't even find a restaurant for non-members, he tells me.

But other places are uncrowded and friendly.

Sigh, back into the car to run errands, to drive the kids around, to pick up farm produce, to mail Netflix...in the Oregon rain.

But you know, I'm living my dream, too. They come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, dreams do.

Happy Sailing, Ben! Happy Driving, Cherie! Happy Day, Reader!

Living the dream.

November 17, 2010: Piles of Paper

"Fill out this form and send it back."

"Fill out this form and sign here and here and here."

"Fill this out and wait."

And wait and wait and wait.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with the paperwork life shoves into my face.

And then I am glad I don't write in Chinese or hieroglyphics.

It can always be worse.

Name. Address. Phone number.

"All right. All right."

November 16, 2010: Skunkage

Mom and I beat Dad and Tom at pinochle on Sunday; two games to none.

We skunked 'em!

Just like old times. The boys put up a valiant fight, however. It was a rousing and fun tournament.


Dad winds the old family clock. It was a wedding gift to my grandmother and grandfather, Dad's parents. I think. I believe Dad told me that his mom carried that clock in her lap from Oklahoma to California during the Dust Bowl years. It meant an awful lot to her. I remember it chiming in her home. I always thought it was the most fantastic thing.

It still is.

Watching Dad wind the heirloom made me smile. Such careful hands, as though he felt his mother watching and approving his gentle touch.

'Twas a good day spent with my parents. Sure wish they lived closer so my entire family could enjoy them more often. They miss us as much as we miss them.

Maybe even more, for life is very quiet at the senior residence.

November 15, 2010: Sandy's Solution

My friend Sandy has a terrific idea. Christmas: Made in America.

I'm going to do my level best to find gifts for loved ones that are made right here in the United States. If I can't, I will take Sandy's advice, I'll make something.

What a great way to support our neighbors and friends!

November 14, 2010: World Diabetes Day

At this point most everyone knows at least one person inflicted with diabetes. Today marks World Diabetes Day, the purpose of which is to educate and prevent. Diabetes can be avoided, controlled, or even reversed with medicines, diet, and exercise.

"In 1985, an estimated 30 million people worldwide had diabetes. A little over a decade later, the figure had risen to over 150 million. Today, according to International Diabetes Federation figures, it exceeds 285 million. Unless action is taken to implement effective prevention and control programmes, IDF predicts that the total number of people with diabetes will reach 435 million by 2030."

That's an expectation of 150 million people inflicted with this debilitating disease in thirty years for an average of 50 million every ten years (which is far less that the decade 1985-1995), or 5 million per year.

I know how hard it is to eat right, to lose weight, and to exercise in the midst of raising a family, playing, and working. I pledge to continue educating myself and taking steps to prevent diabetes from inflicting my family as best I can, especially during this Holiday Season so full of sugary delights and lethargy. Bring on the veggies and walks!

Won't you join me?

November 13, 2010: Shortages

For over twenty years Tom and I have harvested and dehydrated Italian Prunes from our neighbor's decades-old tree. We've taken the lovely fruits for granted. Heavy spring rains knocked the blossoms right off the tree this year and not one single fruit grew. Not one.

On Monday we learned from our local farm market that the same rains greatly diminished the apple, hazelnut, and walnut crops as well. Though I didn't inquire about other crops, I'm sure most - if not all - were effected. Thankfully there are still plenty of apples, though diligence was required to ensure we had our large bag of unshelled walnuts for the year.

Cassie's teacher at the culinary institute informed the class this week that worldwide grain crops suffered a similar fate. For one thing, the wheat harvest is 20% of normal. Yes, worldwide. According to Chef Chris, prices of flour will triple by February as will dairy, beef, and chicken prices. Triple. If full crops return next year, it will take at least two years for things to normalize. Because the U.S. will have less to share with other countries, hunger will increase for dependent nations.

Today I am thankful - most grateful! - for the blessings of food choices available. An already full freezer of grass-fed beef and organic, free-range chickens gives me pause. There were no grains involved in the raising of this meat. None. The prices for such 'elite meat' are higher than conventional meats - today. It will be interesting to watch whether feed-lot meat prices surpass grass-fed. I've read that currently there isn't enough 'elite meat' for everyone.

I hope and pray that it's not as bad as predicted. Judging from my aforementioned experiences, it seems lean years could very well be forthcoming. Human beings exhibit amazing resilience and creativity. Compassion wells up in hearts pulling together. So do greed and selfishness.

Responsibility is called for. The ability to respond. I shall make room in my freezer for a few extra bags of flour alongside the meat and vegetables currently resting in frozen slumber. A little extra everything will be squirreled away for those in need.

Should shortages occur here in the United States, let's be gracious, shall we?

November 12, 2010: Christmas Angel

The Christmas Spirit has gently and quietly crept into Caroline's heart. She cradles it with joy. Difficult years behind, years where Christmas seemed far away even in the midst of the holiday, the preciousness of the season returns to a grateful teen - and her mom.

Pleasant.

November 11, 2010: Bodies of Milk

Bought three gallons of milk at Dairy Mart yesterday. A deep, important conversation with Cassie ensued on the drive home.

Arrived home. Parked the car. Got out.

Forgot all about the milk.

Cassie left for work half an hour later. In the same car.

Evening rolled on. Cassie continued blissfully waitressing. Caroline and I were deep in studies and other evening-type activities, like throwing the dog his toy, eating corn chips, and sorting through Netflix Instant Streaming movies. Milk with the movie sounded good. Looked in the fridge.

Light bulb moment - for the fridge and me!

"THE MILK!!"

Caroline and I agreed that it was cold enough outside to protect the milk - probably. Cassie was due to come home within the hour. Four hours of car-milk.

Cassie came home and I merely said, "Milk," to her.

Cassie: "OH! That's what was rolling around back there. Whew. I thought it was a body."

Me: "What?!?"

Cassie: "Yeah, you know how it is. When you think it's a body you're too scared to look. So you just hope for the best."

Oh my.

(I'm happy to say the milk seems none the worse for the wear. It didn't leak, thank God! We'll drink it quickly, though. Just in case.)

November 10, 2010: Groggy Time

If you're a regular reader you know I've been getting up earlier in the morning than has been my norm for the past couple of decades. 'Before the sun' earlier.

Besides a different sky, I've noticed a couple other things about dawn. One is that people out in public look funny in the morning. Puffy faces, glazed eyes, slow, small movements. Lots of yawns! Another thing I notice is that this doesn't wear off until around 10:30 or 11:00 A.M. I thought that if I was out and about early I'd see energetic early risers zipping around stores, getting a jump on the day, full of Arnold's Action.

Nope. Well, if there are folks like that they are either not in the places I frequent, or they are out of the public eye.

It's okay. This lack of vim and vigor in others makes me feel superior (wink) because I actually feel pretty chipper by the time I leave the house. And I'm older than a lot of the people I greet.

One more thing I've noticed is that the bleary-eyed moms at the bus stop do not like my perkiness. They never answer my greetings, in fact, they've taken to pulling out their phones or reprimanding innocent children when I pull my car up next to the bus stop which is in front of my home. I just chuckle. Been there.

All in all, this early morning experiment is going quite well. My family is eating better, we all get to bed earlier, more is accomplished, and the free time during the day is enjoyed, for it is earned.

Hope your day is full of goodness and enlightenment - and Arnold's Action - whatever time your feet hit the floor!

November 9, 2010: To Stress or Not to Stress?

From the DVD Food Matters I've learned that when under stress from job, kids, running a home, or other sources, the human body breaks down Vitamin C as it's making adrenaline to combat the stress. This is why chronic stress is related to heart attacks. The body is making adrenaline and drawing down levels of Vitamin C which causes vulnerability to our cardiovascular and immunity systems and more. Vitamin C is a tool the body uses to maintain, repair, and restore our health.

It's cold and flu season here in the Northern Hemisphere, particularly in rainy Western Oregon. I'm taking this Food Matters information very seriously and have passed it on to my family. While I've always known stress to be a patient and quiet killer, I didn't know the specifics. Now I do. A certain amount of stress is normal. Our bodies have their routines, they take care of business in good order.

But when we, in this fast-paced, high-expectations world, run non-stop without evaluation or relaxation, we become the means by which nasty diseases are formed. We do this to ourselves. Over time. Granted not all illnesses and diseases are self-inflicted. But too many are.

The way to win against the diseases of civilization - and winter - is by not playing the high-stress, harm-yourself game. It requires education followed by a lifestyle change. One must take responsibility for oneself. Easier said than done. Baby-step by baby-step a lifestyle can be permanently altered.

Besides mindful ingesting of foods and supplements, I am focusing on staying calm in the face of actual or assumed hostility and at the same time incorporating relaxation into my days. I realize that taking time for meditation, for reading inspirational texts, for stretching, exercising, and planning my time is not selfish or wasteful. In the practice of this, I find I am not only helping myself but the entire atmosphere of our home. My state of being has a direct effect on those around me, just as their moods effect me. When my family members are peaceful it helps me relax and function at optimal levels. And vice versa.

However, remaining calm while trapped in a state of attack - whether real or imagined - is difficult for me. Normally, I verbally stand my ground, my body rushes into fight mode. I can feel the physical change. Irritation manifests itself on my face, in my heartbeat, my fists clench, breathing quickens. It's not a good feeling. And I stay there seeking justice far too long. Usually it's wasted energy. Understanding that in order to sustain this negative state I'm flooding toxins into my blood-stream while depleting health-giving chemicals, it's easier to think myself calm again, to make the space to evaluate, to problem-solve, and then to let go. Most of these battles are not worth compromising my immunity and my overall health. And this anger/stress certainly isn't worth compromising the well-being of my family. It's a struggle, though. I forget what I know until after the damage is done. Thus the current determined focus. I'm in training.

It's always been easier for me to care for others more than for myself. A shame, that, because in allowing myself to atrophy I have actually reduced my ability to help my loved ones. In allowing myself to react rather than calmly respond I hurt those I care about, too, for careless words, unmeasured, usually inflict pain. These days retrieving my vitality has become as much about helping others as myself.

The motivation is strong.

Endurance is required. For this I pray.

November 8, 2010: Shhhh....

Being the mother of teenage daughters requires me to honor secrets. If I desire to be trusted, to be let into their inner sanctums, then I have to keep my tongue - and my bloggity fingers - silent.

"Now, Mom, none of this can show up on your blog or Facebook. Agree?"

This post is all about what Tom, Cassie, Caroline, and I did yesterday.






















In invisible ink.

November 7, 2010: A Little Yeast

One dark and stormy night.

One small pup sleeping in his bed.

One married couple sleeping in theirs.

One silent poof from under pup's tail.

Two people now semi-conscious, gasping for air, scrambling, diving under the covers, fanning the air, coughing, choking.

Just as a little yeast leaveneth the whole bunch, so does a little poof stinketh up the entire large, gable-ceilinged bedroom.

"He must've eaten the cat's food again."

"Uh huh."

Ugh, sigh, sleep. Repeat several times.

Weird dreams.

November 6, 2010: Soup Plus

The air became crisp one day a few weeks ago. The Urge returned. Soup. I want soup. All different kinds and flavors of homemade soup made with the freshest, most natural ingredients I can find.

Cheddar Chicken Chowder.

Bean and Ham.

Pennsylvania Corn Chowder.

Split Pea and Ham Hock.

Lentil Soup.

Chicken and Homemade Noodle.

Today, Spicy Chili Con Carne for the football game, served with Cornbread, thank you very much. It will be the perfect complement to a morning of housework and yardwork.

Soup earned.

Is there any meal more satisfying?

Second urge noticed, the urge for my hour back, you know, the one that Old Lady Spring took away months ago? Spring forward, Fall back? Yeah, that one. I get it back tonight. It will be noticed, cherished, made to feel welcome for all the months that it is a guest in my life. Until the powers that be take it away again, like poor Persephone, entering and exiting Hades. Some deal with the devil was made and no one gave me a notice. I think it was because I wasn't born. Oh well. All I can do is celebrate the days of harmony when my sleep cycle and nature's are in tune.

So, slurp slurp and snooze. This day holds much promise!

November 5, 2010: Laughter

I laughed...and that was the end of the argument. He knows I am done, how can I continue my diatribe once my shell is cracked with his accidental humor. He swoops in for a hug. Then, a quick kiss. I punch at him, but still, I'm laughing. So is he.

"Oh you! You made me laugh. I'm not finished being angry."

Oh, but I am.

My brain stops producing the stress hormones it was pumping only a second ago. My breathing deepens. Muscles relax.

Crisis averted.

Fight. Or Flight. Or Laugh.

It really is the Best Medicine.

November 4, 2010: Arnold's Action

Even though I stayed up much too late last evening, I did make an advantageous choice before I assumed the curled-up, nighttime sleep position. I shoved both bedroom windows wide open as the night air was warmish. Happily, the delicious fresh early-morning scent awakened me this morning before the alarm clock's diligent, but annoying, beeps. In the darkness I shut off the clock before its rudeness broke the silence.

Breathing deeply, my body and mind began to ponder the choices and opportunities before me. Early hours offer silent calm, the space to respond rather than react. The difference is enormous for someone like me who, more often than not, finds herself behind the eight ball every morning, hurrying against a stern time system that takes no prisoners. It just kills me off with unplanned minutia.

Two days ago I heard an ABC interview with Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger. He mentioned his determination to teach his children the benefits of early rising. He told his daughter, "If you don't get up at 5:30, you can't get anything done."

He went on to explain to Diane Sawyer, "If you want to accomplish a lot, in the morning is the action, because you get your training done, you get your reading done, you get your preparation done."

I see his point. Because of Tom's swing-shift, I generally sleep later that 5:30 - much! Except when I had a job and ran before work or when babies graced our home, my norm has been to wake whenever my sleep cycle is finished. Sunrises are rare for me. That fact makes me sad. I adore watching the sun rise. My sleep cycle ends earlier in summer, the pleasant weather entices. However, the darkness and chill of autumn and winter are off-putting. But so is that rushed feeling that envelopes when the day has begun without me. I often feel like the football player desperately clutching a football under a dog pile of heavy men, only the heap on top of me is the demands of life.

Until recently I never genuinely attempted Arnold's discipline. But I'm giving it serious consideration. Especially after today. I greeted the morning, watched the day unfold from darkness, fog, and gloom, to mid-60's clear-blue sky. Errands were run when business employees were fresh from breakfast. Lunch was on time. School was more relaxed. When I think about all I've accomplished today I am relieved, happy. Ordered calmness with room leftover for serendipity.

I wonder if Arnold has been right all along? "In the morning is the action."

Fifty years of sleeping in. Maybe I'll spend the next half century discovering the action!

November 3, 2010: Fungus Among Us

Seasonal delights. How I adore them!

All around me these days are beauties above, beauties below, beauties amidst. An ordinary walk finds familiar haunts transformed into fairy lands. Luminescent leaves, fire-colored, supple on the tree, in the air, underfoot slowing my steps.

Lingering and losing myself in the magical colors becomes my habit during autumnal strolls.

Routine is interrupted as I hurry along the front walkway to the car for a daily errand. "What is that reflection?" It is a mushroom or toadstool or some other such fungus the likes of which I've never seen in my front lawn of over twenty-two years. Rain water is cupped within its upward curves reflecting the leaves of the birches above. God's tiny water-mirror catches afternoon sunlight and my eye. A miniature bath for fanciful creatures. I get down on my knees to study the sculpture. It is fantastic. Gorgeous. Mystical. Very much appreciated.

Life is fantastic, gorgeous, mystical and can be very much appreciated if only our senses harmonize with its delights.

November 2, 2010: Election Day

First: Please VOTE.

Second: Please be a gracious winner and a gracious loser.

Third: Please enjoy your day, walking in the freedom you have. It cost many of my ancestors much to procure it for you.

Thank you!

To put the world right in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must first put the family in order; to put the family in order, we must first cultivate our personal life; we must first set our hearts right. ~~Confucius