Ephemeral

Ephemeral...you either know the meaning of it-or not. I confess until I looked it up the other day, I had a different notion of its meaning. It's one of those words people are afraid to use in a sentence, because it is harder to say than most everyday words. Also, it's meaning is so simple that the complexity of the word lends itself to a "hoity-toity-ness" people might raise an eyebrow at.

It simply means: lasting a short time; usually only a day. I always seem to think of food in some way when I write about ideas or memories. Like the time in Chicago I had a bowl of split pea soup from Smith and Wolinsky in 1998. I have not had a bowl of soup that delicious since then. That split pea soup to me was...ephemeral: lasting only 8 minutes.

In nature: ice sculptures, falling leaves or snow, icicles and puffy white clouds are ephemeral.

In media: brands, reputation, ideas

In art: still life portraits. These are one of my favorite forms of art. Famous artist from the past spent painstaking hours capturing a moment in time for us to enjoy. The still life to your left is obviously a contemporary work of art, but it immediately transports my emotions to comfort, laughter, even work.

Happiness is ephemeral too. It isn't a constant so it needs to be replenished. It is a "sensation which is felt by a person for a certain period of time before needing replenishment."

This is the perfect time of year to be mindful of ephemeral things. To capture them in our hearts and try to replenish them as soon as possible. I'd like to think we can be in a perpetual state of ephemeral-ness...replenishing that which only lasts for a short time, each day.

That might be hard to grasp, but if I can devour that cinnamon roll and steaming cup of coffee today and replenish it tomorrow...I just may achieve ephemeral-ness! So go out and capture the ephemeral things in your life today...a newborn's smile, a falling snowflake, a romantic moment, a memorable cup of soup...you never know when it will come around again.

Wabi

WABI means “an understated form of beauty, a quality of refinement masked by rustic simplicity" as defined in a book I just finished entitled, The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery.

This definition immediately provoked thoughts of food cooked simply. Food left exposed in its essential nature, only dressed to enhance inherent qualities-not to overwhelm or cheapen them.

Coarse-chopped carrots, halved small red potatoes, a triangle of uneven parmesan cheese and salmon barbequed with the skin on until crispy...this is rustic simplicity for the stomach!

My thoughts also lead me to interior design accents, understated and rustic. My new favorite candle is McCall's Country Canning - Hot Buttered Rum emanating warmth from a mason jar replete with metal handle. Wood furniture with divets and a banged-up charm allow me to feel as if I don't have to be too careful. I can just enjoy watching the elements of our busy life make it glow with rustic simplicity.

I'm sure that I've taken liberties with the original intent of Wabi's meaning...food and interior design are just material focal points that inspire me, but may not be what Japanese history scholars would assign to the definition. But my next point of reference may be something more internationally cultural, something a little bit more difficult to actually embody is...Character. If I may take further liberties:

What if we took the essence of Wabi and tried to make it a character quality?

"An understated form of beauty." Now for those of you that know me, I have a penchant for lipgloss, highlights, acrylic nails, handbags, jackets, shoes (and we'll stop there). Sometimes my mask is on so thick, I forget who I am until I wash it all off with Arbonne Creme Gelee. But even so we're still talking about things outside of character. Loud, brash, sarcastic...these things would not be wabi.

"A quality of refinement masked by rustic simplicity." When I relate this to quality of character, I think of an autodidact (self-taught person) who doesn't try to hammer people down with knowlege - they just love the art of learning...refined with rustic (natural) simplicity. Or a person with financial means that may rival any in zip code 98210, but who quietly observes the opportunity to offer philanthropic support and even down-home local service.

Well, I'm excited that the concept of Wabi has reintroduced me to character qualities I would like to work on. I'll make it a point to TRY and be understated and more simple, but for now I'd like to get in the kitchen for some rustic simplicity...prosciutto and coarse-chopped roasted carrots...yummy...

Reflections

I'm currently reading a book that reveals the internal thoughts of a young twelve year old girl and a snobby female concierge as they live life in a prestigious condo building in Paris, France. This book is beautifully written and contains ideas that provoke thought.

Just the other day a paragraph jumped out at me that I want to share it with you:

We never look beyond our assumptions and, what's worse, we have given up trying to meet others; we just meet ourselves. We don't recognize each other because other people have become our permanent mirrors. If we actually realized this, if we were to become aware of the fact that we are only ever looking at ourselves in the other person, that we are alone in the wilderness, we would go crazy.

I thought this was a profound statement. Could it be true? Am I looking at you to see myself? Am I missing the Peace in your gaze; the Hope in your story; the Joy in your laugh? Am I only taking a piece of you, the one piece that matches closest to what I perceive about myself and stacking it on top of all the other collected pieces from my interactions? Am I trying to reinvent myself each day from these reflections?

What if I don't like what's reflected? If I'm only looking at you to see myself, how will I feel when I see something I don't like. What if you don't laugh at my joke and fail to reflect my humor; and what if you forget to say "thank you" and miss my kindness...will I say it's your problem or will I think that maybe I wasn't as funny or as kind as I perceived myself to be?

What if I love what is reflected? I may think I'm the funniest person in the world or the kindest or the most beautiful. This can't be good either..."pride comes before the fall."

So what to do?

One remedy is to go back to where we started and remember to meet people for who they are, and take ourselves out of the reflection. Who are you? What are your hopes and dreams under the surface of our encounter? What are you about?

Well, I think that's enough for today...my brain hurts from all this thinking. Tonight I will work on seeing my family and friends for who they are and grow to love them all the more...what about you?

Lifestyles of The Chick and Same-Us: The Beginning

This year we were inspired by friends to raise our own chicken. This sounds funny to those of us who are used to buying chicken at the local grocer, without a care to where it was raised. But after reading books like Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma, and Barbara Kingsolver's book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, my interests in this "grow your own" movement were piqued.

So, this summer the kids and I piled into the car and headed to our local farm and feed store where we selected the cutest yellow chicks. All 18 chicks fit inside a large cardboard box and I tried to act brave as we added them to the backseat along with my human chicky-doos. I wasn't sure I could actually do this thing called raising chickens, and had thoughts of just letting them grow old with us and becoming a vegetarian family. My husband solidified my fears when he said, "I sure hope they get ugly," Oh, dear. What have we gotten ourselves in to?

The first two weeks were spent caring for the little chicks. They lived in a special metal container with wood chips to sleep on; a heat lamp so they wouldn't get cold; a self-drip water container; organic chicken feed and lotsa love from the little veterinarians who live with me. The toughest part was protecting them from the hunting dog and the retriever who shared living space with them in the garage these first two weeks. I've never seen our Vizsla on point so much in her whole life, and the Lab would try to snap at them whenever they flapped their wings...she's used to sleeping all day so this was exciting for her.

After two weeks it was time to put them out to pasture in their chicken tractor...

Beauty

It's always startling to realize that you are in a funk. Inward searching, outward procrastination, longing, helplessness and a hardy lack of motivation.

I just visited that place for the last couple of months. Times of transition usually impart such dubious adjectives that we live out in verb. But, this week I felt like I walked through another door, turned a new chapter and turned toward a new perspective.

It happened when I found myself smiling at a sparkly, colorful, unique and glamorous work of art by Dale Chihuly. He is a world famous creator of glass-blown art featuring creatures from the sea. When I look at Chihuly's work, I'm blown away (no pun intended) at how inspired he is. And when I look at a real sea creature, like the jellyfish in this picture, I still think of Chihuly. He has been able to fuse his work so tightly together with reality, that his fans can't help but think of his work when we see the real thing.

This kind of beauty is a surprising remedy to what ails many of us going through transitions, getting ready for Thanksgiving and Christmas and just generally hunckered down in the funk. Noticing the unexpected in life means getting out there, like I did when I found myself in front of that piece of art. Life is beauty...in a falling leaf, a glimmering bauble, the smell of apple cider, a transformed life...

So if the rigors of life have been pushing you down, rise up and turn your head, notice something else, something beautiful.

Lifestyles of the Chick and Same-us:Introduction

I haven't written about my life raising chickens (Cornish Cross variety) over these past eight weeks. Thoughts and ideas are more manageable when an experience comes to an end...and today my life with live chickens has reached fruition, come full circle, ended.

All 17 (we lost one in the field a few days ago) are now tightly sealed in clear bags and organized like a grocery store display in my garage refrigerator. My family and I raised these chickens in our backyard, feeding them daily and watching, curiously, at their lives.

So this is an introduction to the totality of our experience which will be written in parts for you. You shouldn't anticipate anything untoward or icky, some thoughts will be nuanced...you'll still be able to drink coffee and eat your favorite snack while reading. This is just one of the things we learned Inside the Chrysalis this summer, and we want to share it with you.

Look for "Lifestyles of the Chick and Same-us" Part 1: Beginning with the End in a few days!

Peeling Back Stereotypes

I just read an interesting article about a homeless woman, Brianna Karp. She found herself jobless and homeless, living in a Walmart parking lot and blogging about her experience. Her story landed her as a guest writer on Elle.com.

Her story got me thinking about Stereotypes. Brianna's story is about the new face of homelessness. It really shifted my thinking about what a homeless person is supposed to look like. Why can't they have cell phones, laptops and Starbucks lattes? The economy changed, but my stereotype for homeless people didn't. It's funny how I know nothing about homelessness, but I have a complete picture of it in my mind, replete with black-marked cardboard signs.

I'm sure I do this with many other things in life. I'm hoping to grow a little bit today, and not only peel back the layers of the stereotypes I hold, but completely smash them like a clove of garlic with the back of my knife, only adding bits and pieces to flavor my relationships, one conversation at a time.

BTW, if you would like to read her first blog as a guest writer on Elle.com, click on the title of this blog to be redirected...just come back and visit!

Authenticity in a Tomato

Yesterday I had the priviledge of visiting with one of my neighbors from our previous residence. If you've read the blog recently, you know that we moved out into the boonies and visitors are a welcome addition to our days of raising kids and chickens, cooking, landscaping 8 acres and trying to get inspired to write in the process.

So, when my neighbor revealed a sparkly bag with housewarming gifts, it wasn't the nice bottle of wine that will go great with Lemon Chicken and Dill Cream Sauce or Herbed Salmon, nor was it the beautiful squash and zucchini she grew in her garden that made my heart skip...it was the beautiful bag of tomatoes.

I grew up in Southern California and my grandfather grew tomatoes on his back porch. I remember eating so many tomatoes that my mouth developed acid sores that stung for a good 24 hours after plunging myself into the pleasure of this delicacy. I'm so glad God puts these little "you've had too many" cautionary reminders into life's experiences.

Now, if you are a gardener in the Northwest, you know that tomatoes are very difficult to grow here. There just isn't enough intense heat to generate a juicy, red, sweet tomato...the way an authentic tomato is supposed to taste. These were not the tomatoes from the grocery store. I'm not sure what those ones are that they try to sell us, the sign says "Tomato" but they taste like plastic, and ruin Caprese salad. And so, this is why I was so excited for this rare delicacy: a beautiful handful of real, authentic tomatoes in the Pacific Northwest.

They inspired me to think about "Authenticity." Our culture is so filled with temptations which appear to be the real thing, but upon indulging, end up being a phony replica of our intended desire. I can't remember the last time, before the tomatoes, I looked at something or someone and thought about the word "Authentic." I'm including the mirror in that last statement too. I want to be more "Authentic" but how?

If you have any ideas let me know...for now I will indulge in those juicy, sweet and real tomatoes...oops, they're are a figment of my imagination now since I ate them all without abandon...no sores this time, though!

Rain

Living in the Northwest offers many, many, many days of unending rain. Most of the time I just accept it during the Fall and Winter months as part of living here, the reason why our state is so green, making Spring and Summer amazing.

But during August, I actually find myself a little grumpy about it because my expectation is that it should be blazing hot.

Today is an August rainy day. And I'm not the least bit grumpy about it. Why?

It's all about expectations and perspective. Today I woke without any expectation of how the day should be. When I heard the rain out my window as I woke from slumber, my perspective shifted to baking cookies, candles, reading and snuggling with my family.

If only I could shed expectations from all my days and shift my perspective to embrace the moment. If only...all my days.

So, maybe I will find inspiration in the rain today. Maybe I will fully embrace this amazing miracle that falls from Heaven. As long as it doesn't fall next week when relatives will be visiting, or for the first day of school, or for my Birthday...I've got a lot of work to do!

Inspiration Part Two- The List

My quiet morning just ended as the landscapers have arrived and sent the retreiver and the hunting dog into a fit. Good morning everyone. I'm in much need of a second cup of coffee, but am still in jammies and don't want anyone to see me through the windows. So, here I blog.

I'm still looking for inspiration to write again...I figure I'll just sit down and free form for a while until something logical takes shape. I hope you don't mind.

Today is a task-oriented day. I have to 1) go to the feed store to get chicken feed 2) PO Box 3) grocery store 4) laundry 5) packing for overnight 6) cleaning 7) organizing and breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner. But I do get to go have dinner with another friend tonight, so it will be a nice end to the day.

All I want to do is read to the kids, surf the internet, get some sunshine and a pedicure. Oh, well. There is time for everything under the sun.

I do find it helpful to make myself a list. It is inspiring to get it all down on paper somehow. It is also very satisfying to cross things off. Much like weed-whacking is a stress-reliever for me. There is nothing more satisfying (well, this is overstated a bit) than being able to whack down the tall grass and weeds in one arc of your arm, and an overcharged whacking machine. You might not understand my parallel...sorry about that.

Anyway, so today, in this blog I've made my list of things to do, capping the night with dinner. So, I will work backwards from there and make this a great day.

The barking continues...poor landscapers.

Looking for Inspiration

I'm sitting at the kitchen island finishing a cup of tea (Earl Gray from the Empress in Canada) looking for inspiration to unleash some writer's block.

There is a lot to be excited about with these halcyon days of summer, kids starting school (all of them; full time...I won't put an exclamation point on that so I don't seem too excited lest you think me a bad mom), all 18 chickens are still alive and doing well (except one teeny runt) and we have all the boxes unpacked and are just left with the fun things to do after moving.

So why can't I find inspiration in all of it? It seems that I have too much rolling around in my brain and don't know where to begin. I hope this doesn't mean that I'm not growing...the reason I started blogging in the first place. Am I at a crossroads or a standstill? Do I need adventure or rest?

Well, I will just focus on the things I'm super excited about for today:

My large cast iron pot on the stove, empty now but waiting for me to cook Beuf Bourguignon (sp? and too lazy to remove myself from the chair). It was a gift from my sweet mother-in-law and I'm very excited and inspired to cook.

The flowers on the deck outside. Sunflowers and Dahlias;Petunias, Impatiens and spikey purple flowers that are not Lavendar or Salvia. When the sun filters through them on its descent, they glow and it makes me stop in my tracks.

So many things...visiting family, kids that love each other, friends who are driving all the way to the boonies to have dinner with me...and... if I had a dollar for all the blessings I can count.

Well, I feel better. Maybe popping the cork on a few inspiring things, will allow other concrete thoughts to take shape and percolate to the top of my tired brain.

What about you? What do you do to get inspired to: cook, clean, organize, write, read, teach, nurture, rest, play...?

I love your comments... BTW the photo is just one I really love, but it has nothing to do with anyone's birthday that I know of. If it's yours though, Happy Birthday!

Joy Comes in the Morning

Pheww!

If you read my previous post, you know that I was trying to muster something in myself to offer the world. The Lord set me straight and things definitely look better this morning.

I just finished a study on the life of David. The first line in my study for today says, "Was that it for David? Would he never do anything great for God?" It was basically the question I had for myself lastnight. Isn't that amazing? God does hear the prayers of His people and He cares.

David commited a doozy of a sin, but was truly repentant and sorrowful before God. David's son Solomon went on to build the temple, and eventually our beloved Jesus came from this family line. There is hope.

My question lastnight of "What can I bring?" was not the proper question to ask. Revealed again to me during this morning's study (I say again because I already know this, but forget easily) is that it isn't what "I" can bring. A more inspiring questions is "What would God have me bring?"

Duh, me. Everything I have is a gift from Him. All that I can do and will do is because He makes me capable of doing it. Ahhhhh, how refreshing that I will never be able to muster up anything more than what He wants me to do. What a relief. The pressure is off!

So, I'm set straight now...for today. Now to work off that creamy quiche from late lastnight!

What Can I Bring?

No. This post is not about requesting your advice on what to bring to a baby shower, potluck or picnic. I'm feeling a little short, a little lost, a little...melancholy. I find myself asking, "What can I bring to God, Family, Community?"

Have you ever been overwhelmed by a questioning in your heart, that seemed to come out of nowhere? I have that feeling tonight...how long has it been stirring around in there?

All was well in my universe today...and then I went to see the movie "Julie and Julia." On my way home tonight I was bombarded with feelings of inadequacy, lack of courage and wonder about what I'm doing with my life. How does a sweet movie unleash this kind of backlash, you ask? I assure you, it is me, not the movie.

"Julie and Julia" is a delightful movie if you are an amateur foodie and are familiar with Julia Child and blogging in America. I just loved it and will own it when it comes out on DVD. I was impressed with the theme of "following-through" and courage in the face of rejection or set-back.

So why am I feeling blue? I'm not sure, exactly.

I feel like I do a lot, but I don't do anything especially well. There. That's it. My follow-through is terrible on many things and I lack courage in the face of rejection.

Now what's the remedy?

I really don't know, but I do know my tummy is full from the creamy bacon quiche I made from Julia's cookbook this morning (I've had my own copy of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking for four years now), and I'm a little tired. Maybe things will look better in the morning (perspective, not thighs)?

Rough Road

We recently went hiking with three little ones and two teens...what a blast! I'm usually bringing up the rear - no not because my Crossfit coach hasn't been doing his job, but because it's my joy to bring up the stragglers and make sure all are accounted for.

A sign was posted that I hadn't noticed before on previous adventures to this particular lake. It read, "Rough Road." Just as we drove past the sign, my ever-fun husband decides to thromp on the gas pedal and veritably fly over potholes and slippery gravel. My arm rises in reflex as my hand grasps the handle above my passenger window. The kids know the routine and break into long drones of pothole-measured crescendo. This rough road became a place of fun and excitement.

It got me thinking about reality. How often do we thromp on the gas pedal of life and look forward to bouncing and sliding around on the rough road? What if instead of hiding behind closed doors and turning to who-knows-what, we met our rough road full speed ahead, anxious for what it would teach us?

Please, I'm not there yet...I'm the shut-out-civilization-for-a-time type! But I'd like to be more accepting of rough patches. It dawns on me that we knew the rough road was only going to last for a short time before we got to stretch our legs on the open trail. And, as I look back over my life, it has been that way too. Each phase only lasts for a time. How can I remember that when I find myself in a rough patch? Or even better, look it in the face and say, "I know you are only going to last for a short time. Whatta you got?"

If only I was that brave or mature! For now, one step at a time is all I've been given. May they land on solid ground.

Technology: Beast of Burden?

We recently moved to a location that has limited cell phone capability, no cable and no internet. While this information was known before we moved, we thought we could figure something out: surely somehow we could have these luxuries only 30 minutes from our previous address? But after three weeks of having to stand outside to make phone calls and having "hit or miss" internet, we've come to the realization that we live in the "boonies."

But I've learned a few things.What I've learned from not having hi-speed internet is that I'm very focused while I'm online. No more aimless clicking around - get in and get out.

What I've learned from not having a cell phone for a week (had to sell mine on ebay): it was kinda nice having an excuse to be unavailable. Please don't get me wrong...do call (I live out in the boonies remember? I need to connect with the outside!) but when I couldn't make that call...oh, well. It gave me an excuse to say "no" because I had to.

My point is, being disconnected wasn't so bad. The pressure to make the call, send that email and so on, was gone. My focus was re-directed to what I "could" do. Play with kids, cook that Rhubarb pie, plant that flower, organize that room. It was a return to a simpler time...ok, it wasn't Little House on the Prairie...but it was kinda nice.

So, if you are reading this now and have other things you should be doing, I give you permission to turn off your computer, "x" out of your cell browser and experience what is around you with your five senses - five senses for five minutes. Then, send me a text with your cell number because I couldn't save my old contacts!

The Tulip Break

I'm reading a book, The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan, he is also the author of the The Omnivores Dilemma, another book I've referenced in previous posts.

The chapter I'm reading is all about the Tulip frenzy of the 1600's in Holland. A few things I noted are of particular interest, and relate to beauty.

The picture you see is of a "broken tulip." Most tulips are pure colors of yellow, red, purple, white and even black. When partial colors started to appear like brushstrokes of flamed hues, the European frenzy called, Tulipmania occured.

What they didn't know way back then, was that the cause of this color break was a virus spread by the peach potato aphid. Prior to this, Dutch farmers tried many different techniques to cause breaks to happen. Gardeners sprinkled colored paint on the base of the flower, others sprinkled plaster dust. Anyone who happened to grow a broken tulip was rewarded for their efforts.

One reason for the frenzy is because of how the broken tulip was viewed. "Beauty always takes place in the particular," writes Elaine Scarry, "and if there are no particulars, the chances of seeing it [beauty] go down." It's like when you go to the tulip fields and see a blanket of red tulips with one yellow tulip beckoning to be noticed. Beauty in the particular.

Isn't it interesting that the virus which caused the break, garnered more followers who planted more flowers, thus spreading the virus that would eventually kill the species? Is there something to learn from this now?

How about the way we eat? The way we tan our bodies? Our lack of exercise? I'm not preaching to you...I love Red Robin french fries, Snickerdoodles, Sugar cookies, laying out in the sun, oh and pizza...but I do want to make better choices about these things. A chocolate truffle looks so beautiful with its swirls of milky cocoa and yummy flavors, but am I supposed to eat them en masse while reading?

So, I am going to notice beauty in the particular, then take a closer look at the long-term benefits, or lack of benefits, and maybe just eat one tuffle...maybe two.

The Prime of Life

In this day and age, growing older is looked at much like that of a mouse on a running wheel: forever running but never getting away from time, aging and the future. If you've read previous posts you know my anti-aging remedy dilemmas and quest for something that will erase fine lines, wrinkles, age-spots and so on. But a couple of days ago, I learned a knew perspective that is helping me to see beyond those superficial things, and onward toward fullness of life and the splendor of gray hair (even if it's covered up with "Golden Amber" by Feria).

Eli was a priest of the Lord in Shiloh. Eli had two sons, Phinehas and Hophni who were wicked because they took the sacrificial meat before the fat portions were burned off. It was customary that when the people came to sacrifice, the priests were to get whatever a three-pronged forked brought up after it was plunged into the pot where the meat was boiling. Phinehas and Hophni wanted the raw meat so they could roast it. They wanted more than was their due as priests.

Because of this selfish act, Eli's family would be judged because he failed to restrain his sons and there would never be an old man in his family line. All Eli's descendants would die in the prime of their life.

This was interesting to me, because even though we cringe as birthdays roll around, and we start getting anxious as the years go by, at least we are living and able to see what has been. We will hopefully get to see our children's children, the passing of seasons, the way a maple tree grows over the years.

I consider myself in the prime of life, although that number seems to be going up...isn't it 60yrs. now? So, even though getting older seems dreadful, I'm going to try and look at things differently...I get to enjoy my children and watch them grow. I may still try a few tricks to spruce up the outer shell, but on the inside my heart is still beating, one beat, one day, one year at a time. I'm alive in my prime...!

Passion

I love watching people who are passionate about what they do. It makes me want to become more bold and intense about the passions in my life. The training and dedication it takes to be passionate is something many of us ignore, hoping to do a little here and a little there to reach a status-quo outcome. I would like to learn how to become more diligent in pursuing the passions in my life.

Recently on Orcas Island, my friends and I had the pleasure of listening to a violin duo play amazing music, at sunset during dinner. These young people were very talented and able to play at length for the hungry patrons. I was surprised that they played Hungarian Dances No. 5 by Brahms. This is one of my favorite pieces because it is varied between a loud crescendo and quiet adagio sounds. Just when you might be impressed with my musical knowledge, let me clarify that I know about this particular piece from watching Disney's Little Einsteins. There you go. Listen here... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKHQ36NOxzk

As I watched them, I saw the most amazing thing. They both had bruises from the violin on the side of their sweet faces. Now that is passion...not caring about the bruises it takes to do what you love. I'd never seen these violin "kisses" before and thought it was the neatest thing I'd seen so far on the island.

It made me remember times I've watched the lead singer of Coldplay, Chris Martin, and wonder what it would be like to see him in person. The way he plays the piano using his entire body, makes me appreciate his talent and passion even more. Take a look... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ful-M_MbL4

Of course, I tend to do many things at once, and none of it very well. I'll get excited about learning French or cooking difficult recipes, but soon the excitement falls away and becomes more of a longing, than a completion. So to see people living out even one of their passions in life, is very inspiring to me.

What is your passion? How do you go about it? I'm not sure what my passion is, but this weekend inspired me to hone in on one thing, and put myself into that until my body is marked by it in some way...bruises and all.

Cycles of Life

Today my husband's grandmother was, how should I put this, gently nudged out of the retirement home she's been living in for close to a year. It seems this little octogenarian was too hard to handle...at least she's still got spunk.

She wandered off to the local grocery store, and it wasn't that she was disoriented and couldn't find her way back, she flat-out was not going back to that place! This is not a good situation from a safety standpoint, so she is now in a facility better equipped to handle her unique brand of huff-and-puffery...for the time being. We realize that she just wants a loved one around, and circumstances are changing to make this a reality for her.

It got me thinking about some earlier posts on sowing seeds and tending to our kiddos with love and attention...but the elderly are just as fragile. Over the past few years this southern Georgia peach has gone through some funny, interesting and sad changes.

The cycle of life is precious, fragile, frustrating and tender. Just when we retire from working for forty-five years, a mother needs our constant care; after raising kids for eighteen, they decide never to leave; when a mother sends her last one to school full-time, she discovers she doesn't know what to do with her life now. The unknowns of life are exhilarating and nerve-wracking at the same time.

So tonight I'll be thankful that although my mind is frazzled and forgetful much of the time, at least I'm aware of it and know where I am. Who knows that in fifty years, I may be escaping to Fred Meyer in hopes of finding someone who loves me and someone to love.

A Relaxing Getaway?

A common thread in life these days is the desire to enjoy our time. Our schedules are busy and we nearly melt into bed at night after each day's activities. I love days where I'm not on a time constraint, having to be somewhere at a certain time. I call these Halcyon days. So last year when the stress mounted, my husband arranged for me to go to Salish Lodge in Sammamish, Wa. overnight.

Usually, when I get to do something like this it is spur-of-the-moment. I hardly have enough time to pack, arrange for a spa treatment and dinner reservations (I have to eat). It's not as if he's kicking me out the door (I don't think), it's just that he may recognize that I might blow like Mt. Vesuvius. That wouldn't be pretty...so he sends me out for a break.

It was a beautiful day that day, and I just loved the drive out with all the Evergreen trees standing tall and yellow-washed from the sun's rays. I quickly checked in, changed and went to eat before my facial at 7pm. On my way to the restaurant there was a wedding reception going on, and I immediately missed my husband and kiddos, and this is why I go...I always come back filled up with love for them. Well, it's one reason anyway...onward to dinner.

When I dine alone, a book is my companion. I believe I was reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I'm sure I had salmon for my main dish, but what I remember most was the Heirloom Tomato Salad. My grandfather grew tomatoes in pots on his porch in California, and you've never tasted a tomato until you've had one fresh from the vine. I used to get acid sores in my mouth from eating so many in my youth. So when the chance to have a tomato salad, heirloom no-less, I could not pass. Satiated from dinner, it was time for the spa.

I was told I could use the hot tub and steam room before or after my treatment, so I packed a bathingsuit. I planned on putting it under my dress, not wanting to be transported back to changing in a high-school locker room environment. But as I was shoving items in my overnight bag, I accidentally packed a bikini, it being black and the same texture as my one-piece. And it gets worse, somehow I acquired bottoms that must've belonged to an unknown friend I've travelled with in the last 12 years. I've travelled a lot with many friends and black is a common bathing suit color, and well, sometimes you acquire things that aren't yours. Even worse, I wore them.

The lady who did my facial, was no-nonsense and had a European accent...the accent, I thought, is why they hired her. I believe I whinced when she turned the bright light on to examine my face. She said my skin was dehydrated, sagging and in need of some extraction. I don't quite remember the wonderful aromas or the rich creamy slathering of product, I'm sure they were there, but I do remember the pain from extraction and a gentle slapping at the end. Well if I must endure the rigors of the spa, I shall.

So after my facial, I timidly ventured into the hot tub area to see if the coast was clear enough for my ensemble. I cased the place and noticed that in one hot tub (there were two), were two women who were very cozy, and a loud man and women, who I assumed had already been to a lengthy dinner. I didn't want to bother them...so off to the other one I went. Thankfully, it was empty so I quickly dipped myself in the large tub, but forgot about how clothing floats upwards when you get into water. My too-big bottoms gave a pull toward the sky, and I was so thankful nobody else was around! But soon more people entered the area, so I got out of there fast.

Next, It was finally time to relax in my room. I love to study, so I sleep on one side of the bed and the books sleep on the other. I called my husband to tell him about my experience so far, and how glad I was to be in my room. We laughed about the bathing suit, and I told him that I might start a fire in the fireplace. He said, "Be careful."

There is a reason for this. When we were first married, I was barbequeing and caught my shorts on fire. They were the kind of shorts with fringe on the bottom, I've always liked jeans with holes and tears, and these were the ones I donned for the evening. The fire was going pretty good, but as I was putting the lid back on, a giant flame shot out the side and caught my fringe on fire. I started screaming and calling for my husband, and by the time he got there I was working my way inside the house from the deck patting myself as I struggled to get my shorts off. The poor neighbors. So, the caution to be careful was warranted. I threw on a robe just in case I had to call the front desk for help...but all went well.

The rest of the stay went on without incident. I returned home thankful for family and a little laughter. My travel tips: make sure you have the right bathingsuit, plan ahead and store up funny little moments for those days when things aren't that funny. Oh, and try not to schedule the last facial of the day...it might be painful.

Cracks, Sags & Dimwits

The title to this blog is actually a book title I found on my husband's shelf. Being the mid-thirties woman that I am, my thoughts immediately acquired an anti-aging slant, and so I took it off his shelf thinking it had been one of my misplaced books. I quickly realized it was a book for builders and contractors, my husband the handy-man has all sorts of these. But it got me thinking about cracks and sags...

Recently, I discovered a pesky forehead crack that seems to keep getting deeper with days gone by. It is no wonder since my face is either contorted with furrowed brows toward daily conundrums, or into an attentive pose with eyebrows raised (as if I can hear better this way.) Lately, I've tried mentally telling myself to relax my forehead, but it's still there and I fear it will turn into a mocking smile.

And last year my kind husband, recognizing that I needed a break from reality, sent me to a spa. That trip is a blog all its own, but one incident fits here. My "technician" was a very-thorough and tell-it-like-it-is woman with a European accent, and I was her last facial of the day. Among other things, she noticed that my face had taken to sagging and began to slap me under my chin. I tried not to laugh at the oxymoron of my "relaxing" getaway...being slapped was not what I had in mind, but if it helps...

It is hard to know if anything peddled out there for anti-aging really works. I ran into an advertisement for Caracoal Cream, which has "snail extract" and apparently many of the top-rated spas use products with this extract in them. I don't know about you, but anything I've ever seen come out of a snail is not something I would put on my face. And what a disgusting job someone has to deliver this "special" product to us. Eeeeu (sp?).

If you know of something that really works, let me know. And if you see me without a facial expression, just know I'm not angry, I'm just trying to relax my forehead. Hopefully it won't get to a point where I start slapping myself. If you see this please stop me.

Zoom, Zoom, Zoom

This blog is about growth and transformation and so here is an update on what I'm learning to nurture this growing process, but remember before you read on...baby steps.

Yesterday was a doozy of a day, one that I wondered how I was going to make it when all I wanted to do was sleep...I'm good at this. The night before I had a minor medical situation because of some stones in my kidneys, nothing too drastic but annoying none-the-less. Anyway, I was up way past my 9:00pm bedtime dealing with that, which made yesterday a day I greeted very low on the energy radar. And so it began.

My husband had to wake me up because my new phone (actually a new replacement phone because my other one would only allow me to talk on speaker) would not let me sign in to set my alarm. So, at 6:45am I decided to "live chat" Tmobile to see if there was a solution to this problem. It turns out that I "need" data services which will let me connect to the Tmobile server at a rate of $25 per month. After much pecking away on the typewriter with the "live chat" person, Randy, Tmobile would not allow me temporary access to sign in and use a phone that I paid for. They would also not be reimbursing me for the phone that I can't use. I chatted back, "ridiculous," and clicked off at 6:50am.

Next, I had to wake the kids for school, a job in-and-of itself, while using my old phone on speaker to talk to a real person at Tmobile. Maureen said she would allow me access at a prorated rate, so I can sign in and use my phone. The Tmobile G1 is a great phone, and works without Internet access (I actually had the data services (Internet on phone) originally, but my husband said it was a bit much, and so here we are.) What I learned from that experience is that I'm much nicer talking on the phone to a person, than chatting "live." And that I will be having to write a letter to Tmobile for this ridiculous policy...what if I had an emergency and couldn't use my phone? Also, I like the word, "ridiculous."

After the phone fiasco, it was time to head out to the car. I could here all of my children laughing in the garage when they were supposed to be putting on their shoes, so I opened the door to check in on them and to my great frustration, there was a ginormous pile of, how shall I say...elimination, which they thought was the funniest thing they've ever seen. We have two dogs, a Vizsla and just a few weeks ago we acquired my sister-in-law's dog, a yellow lab. I could tell it was the job of the new lab, and sweet as she is, she looked at me as if to say, "I'm sorry. Will you please forgive me?" I learned from that experience to supervise dog feedings when three children think it is a novelty.

Now I'm at the doctor's office at 9:20am and saw a man sneeze into the bend of his elbow, give a curious look at his sleeve afterwards, and I then held my breath as I walked past him. While checking into my department, I glanced back and saw said man walking back to his seat while using a tissue to wipe his sleeve. I learned that I don't like going to the doctor's office.

Well, I know it's not much, but I told you in the beginning, baby steps. At the end of the day I always learn that I love my family more than I did yesterday, and through it all I look forward to what tomorrow will bring and pray for the grace to get through it. Even when the zoom of life gets "ridiculous."

Nylons and Tadpoles

These halcyon days make me want to be a kid again. Amidst all the laundry, dishes, spills and messes I long for running barefoot, climbing trees and playing 'til the sun goes down. But I caution myself lest the neighbors think I've lost it and call the cops because I'm running down the field with a makeshift cape and twirlers.

The joy I see in my kids is so amazing. I can't remember the last time my emotions were displayed at max. Where is the line between childhood expression and adult suppression? I look at the faces of my children and hope that their spirits are never crushed. I wonder how to reclaim a little of what they have...

So, when my daughter came sloshing up from the pond with one giant frog and a baby tadpole in her hands, I knew that I had to remember these days for all time. Decked out in pink with a tiny braid in her hair, shorts and pink puddle-jumpers, my daughter added her new pets to the already growing frog population on our property. Meanwhile her brother and sister were content to hit golf balls in the setting sun.

Today the golfers decided to join the marine biologist at the pond. They requested some old nylons this time, white ones no less in order to see better, and are hoping to catch a gazillion tadpoles to care for.

My husband says I better stop writing about it and go experience it. So, I'll throw caution to the wind, take off my shoes and run down to the pond and play with my kids. I may put on a superhero cape for good measure, and if the neighbors call the cops...so be it.

Sunshine Day

Today is one of those wonderful, vibrant, show-stopper days. In the Northwest we savor days like these and wonder what life would be like if we could bottle it up. If I could, I don't even think I would sell it. For a while I'd just pop the top and glug it to the very bottom, and then hand out bottles for free to the unemployed friend, the frazzled mom, the grandma stricken with Alzhiemers, the confused twenty-something, the tired neighbor, the sad child and anyone else in need of a little sunshine.

Well, I better get outside and though I can't bottle it, maybe I can soak up enough sun to spill over to those loved ones in need...let's hope so.

Chrysalis Defined

A few weeks ago, I was telling my Father-in-Law about my blog and how it would be great for him to blog so he could connect with other screenwriters. When I told him the name of my blog, he put his hands up and gave a waggle gesture and said, "ooh, sounds like crystals and new age." Ha! What a strange impression, so I felt the need to explain to anybody else out there who isn't clear on what a chrysalis is.

When my little ones were really little, I purchased Eric Carlisle's book, The Hungry Caterpillar. I'm not sure if it mentions the chrysalis exactly, but it was a catalyst to spur me on to learn more about it. I found the transformation process fascinating. Then, we went to the zoo a couple of years ago and went through the butterfly exhibit. They actually have the chrysalis display for all to see, and they are beautiful little hard shells containing all the elements to produce a beautiful butterfly.

As the caterpillar approaches the metamorphosis stage, it actually spins a silk pad and pulls it over itself. What happens then is that this becomes a hard shell and the process of transformation begins. All the cells break down and begin to rebuild into a totally different creation. Those in science say that the caterpillar and resulting butterfly are as different as a field mouse and a hummingbird.

I feel as though I'm inside the chrysalis. The world around me is a treasure trove of wonderful, interesting and exciting things to learn and experience. And all of this knowledge is being used to rebuild parts of me that are lacking, or encouraging parts of me that are growing. I'm the only one living this life, and I don't want to waste this gift. I do though, sometimes. I take people and things for granted, I don't do what I should do and often do what I should not do. But one day I'll be able to emerge in the glorious light of heaven, shake off the dew of living inside the chrysalis and flap my iridescent wings with a feeling of freedom! Mercy me until then!

An Amateur Foodie

For some people, food is necessary for filling one's stomach, thus achieving a "full" feeling that keeps them going until the next grumbling on the "empty" radar. For me, food is a pastime, a hobbie, an event even. I love learning about food, what other people think about certain food, reading books about food, preparing food, growing food, sharing food, and of course, eating food.

According to Wikipedia, foodies are "amateurs who simply love food consumption, study, preparation and news." Gourmets are "epicures of refined taste." This is not me. I have to ask my husband what my soup is missing. I seem to know it's lacking, but in what I couldn't say, (oh the parallels I could go into). I just know what I like, and hope my family likes it too.

Like most of us, my food memories stretch back into childhood. My mother made coffee cake on Saturday mornings and Friday nights were reserved for dinners out. I had lobster for the first time when I was really young...poor future dates...oh wait, I married my highschool sweetheart and he's frugal-nevermind.

For the past couple of summers I've read a food book or two. Michael Pollan puts out some great food reads, The Omnivores Dilemma and In Defense of Food. I have a couple of books about France and food is intertwined. So, as I was shopping yesterday (for food), a book captured my attention. A Homemade Life is a book about food and memories. Molly Wizenberg writes so well and delivers a recipe in each chapter. I'm on chapter three and can't wait to try some of her amazing dishes and share them with friends and family. She also has a blog and you can link to it from this page on the left.

With seeds going in the ground and summer bbq season upon us, my mind is ready for heirloom tomato salad, crisp asparagus, bbq steak with gorgonzola cheese melted on top and flourless chocolate dessert with red wine reduction.

If you are a foodie and have a favorite recipe using green beans, I want to hear from you since my favorite way to prepare them is out of the can...no gourmets here!

Orchids in an Onion Patch

I know this really wonderful mentor with seven children. She is a delightful and spunky woman who dedicates much of her time encouraging young mothers, or I should say mothers with young children - regardless of whether or not she is young. This encouragement is something I need in my life as a not-so-young-mother of three.

The topic of parenting is a fragile one for me to write about...because I know my own failings at it. There is a song by francesca battistelli and the lyrics say something like, "some days I feel like I can do anything, and other times I feel I've got nothing good to bring." I feel like the latter part sometimes, but I'm so encouraged by people who have been through the rearing stage and can offer some advice to the rest of us. Goodness, we have so many questions about bed-wetting, lieing, bullying, sassing, picky eaters, disobeyers, dawdlers and free spirits! And, if you're like me, I add ten years to the behavior and get really worried what life will be like with 15,16 and 17-year olds!!! (yes, that deserved three exclamations).

So, my friend the mentor, sent me an email and asked about my family. I saw her recently, but we didn't have a chance to catch up, so when I received her email I was excited to share about all the good news and not-as-good news. In her response she used the phrase, "children are like orchids in an onion patch," and I thought that was such a sweet way to put it.

I've always heard that orchids are hard to grow. They need the right kind of sunlight, not to much water and to be prepared to lose a few as you learn how to grow them. Well, I'm pretty sure we don't want to lose our little orchids to the onion patch of this world. Some days it seems like children are hard to grow...not too much free time, a little bit of discipline, a lot of mommy and daddy time and a reward or two for good measure. Keeping this all in balance is quite a job, but what I'm learning from the wonderful moms I know...is if you mix in attention, pour on time and shower them with armfuls of love...they will know who they are and what they are worth...a priceless orchid, a beautiful treasure. Better get tending, not sure if I've mixed in enough attention today!

Sowing Seeds of Harvest

Imagine going to your local garden store, picking out the perfect packet of seeds-heirloom tomatoes, okra, carrots, lettuce or beans and upon getting home, you grab a bowl, pour out the contents and start eating them with a spoon. I just read that people in some African villages are doing that, minus the bowl and spoon.

I don't know if they are just too hungry and don't want to wait for the harvest, or if they don't have the skills and knowledge to make an abundant harvest a reality. But according to a relief worker, "One of the most frustrating things is that in villages where they receive seed, they often eat the seed rather than planting it and bringing forth the harvest."

When I explained this strange phenomenom to my daughter, she told me that if she was starving she'd probably eat the seed because she might die before the harvest.

How often have I done this very thing because I didn't want to put the effort into caring for the seed, fearing I might figuratively die in the process. In my example the seeds represent "lessons" I've learned, but somehow haven't been sown into my heart in a way that I can use in everyday living.

As my daughters and me were talking about this, I reminded them of the many lessons their parents-in-training try to give them. It's easy to say they won't lead the dogs to the mud just to watch them get dirty, or eat conspicuous-looking berries, or make frown faces, or spray mom's perfume, or bully children at school, or wear mom's MAC "Sobe"-really-hard-to-get-out-of-the-carpet lipstick. (Taking a deep breath).

It is easy to "hear" the lesson, but it is much harder to bring forth a harvest from it. We know we are supposed to forgive people (seed), but it's very hard to do when you are in the middle of a situation (unsown seed). We know that time flies (seed), but we settle for and focus on the mundane and passive things in life (unsown seed). I'm really trying to work on this last one. I want to be more diligent in how I spend my time, making sure my family knows how fiercely I love them.

So, this Mother's Day week, I'm trying to be more aware of how I use my seeds. I don't just want to chomp down on colorless, bland and odorous seeds. I want to savor a harvest of ripe, cherry-red, glossy "early-girl" tomatoes. And though the task is a challenge at times, there is a promise I'll try to sow into my heart, "those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy." The psalmists know their stuff...I better get sowing!

Crossfit and Gardening

Just the other day I spied a large, dead and unattractive shrub growing on the side of my house. I'd actually been noticing it for some weeks now, but I don't garden unless it's at least sixty degrees outside, so there it stood to the wince of my neighbors, I'm sure. So with sun out and warm temperatures, I approached the sorry shrub with shovel in hand. Little did I know my Crossfit training would come in handy for such a time as this.

As it turns out, the shrub in question was a Mock-orange with an intense citrus scent, which now sprawled out in a gnarly heap with a scent the antithesis of sweet. I wasn't sure how to approach it, since it was my height and right next to the house. I couldn't get enough leverage with the shovel, so I made a few demarcations at the base and stood back to evaluate.

I re-approached, and this time used Crossfit to handle the situation. Crossfit is a series of exercises that combine, "constantly varied, high-intensity, functional movement," according to www.crossfit.com. I've been trained for three short months and now found myself applying it to this odd situation. So there I was assuming the "dead-lift" position, and grabbing the weak stems, I yanked that Mock-orange out of the ground and hauled it to the compost pile.

In previous gardening seasons, I would've spent a fair amount of time hacking my way at the base, and eventually getting my very capable husband to finish the job. Unfortunately, he actually saw me hauling the large encumbrance to the designated compost area. After he said, "Good job," I knew I would be left to my own strength for all future gardening situations.

Next, I was off to a certain part of the garden that needs to be re-edged every year. I've dreaded this task in the past because I had no leg strength to speak of. After my Mock-orange success, I tried my hand at edging the grass with a pointed shovel. It proved to be a surprisingly easy task, and I now know for certain that all the dead-lifts, pull-ups and squats have increased my strength and ability.

Many of the Crossfit heavyweights may laugh at this simple Crossfit mom's outlook, but it really is working for me and the lifestyle I lead. I'm no longer intimidated by the linebackers, firefighters, law enforcement officers or models who do Crossfit, it has wide ranging appeal for all fitness levels, even mine.

If you're up for a change from the stair stepper or elliptical machines, and if you want to see muscles consistently percolate to the top, seek out a Crossfit facility. You may find yourself easily wrestling with heavy equipment or carrying a child up the hiking trail. As for me, I'm looking forward to my next gardening task and leaving most of the tools behind.

If you are already into Crossfit, let me know. If not and you have questions, send me a comment!

Happiness and Love

I'm currently writing an article about whether or not we can buy happiness and love. At first glance, the concept seems a little strange. Can I really go to the nearest mall, slap down a few greenbacks, and walk out with happiness in my pocket and love in my handbag?

When I was a little girl growing up in sunny California, there was this one tree with leggy branches, and peeling bark. The leaves on this tree were the exact split combination of silver and forest green. My parents told me that it was called a Money Tree, and I thought we were rich! Who said, "Money doesn't grow on trees?"

Now that I'm a little older (ok, a lot older!), I'm convinced that money buys choices, not happiness or love. I can choose to buy those really funky bejeweled sandals, or the practical non-bejeweled walking shoes. I can choose the trendy, everybody-has-to-have-it $350 Coach handbag (no, I don't have one. Yes, I want one. No, I won't get one), or I can choose to buy a non-label purse and settle for function.

The interesting thing here, is that happiness and love are the two most sought-after emotions, and we typically do go hunting for them with money. I think we've seen a bit of this regarding our current economic woes. We reason that we'll be "happy" if we can just have that thing. We think "love" will knock on our door if we've covered ourselves in the latest trends, and topped it off with properly coiffed hair.

Our brains are wired to solve these economic problems. If I find something I want (which is often!), my brain will try to figure out how to get it. I can charge it, sell something else to get it and so on. Once my brain and I have come to a solution, I have my "want" in hand and feel like I've just conquered a problem-solving dilemma. I also have a little happiness and love in my heart, which lasts temporarily until the credit card bill comes. And so it goes.

What if we convinced ourselves that we already had the money to buy the "thing?" The actual, tangible desire of our hearts at the moment. If I "knew" I could afford to buy that new car, my brain wouldn't go into problem-solving mode, it would go into reasoning mode. I would now start asking, "Should I buy this new car?" or "Does it make sense to buy this car?" I would no longer accept a ridiculous price tag just to have it, and ask, "Is this a good price?"

I have yet to adopt this line of thinking, and hope I can trick my brain into playing along. As for happiness and love, I will tuck them in my heart and not go looking for them at the local mall. Although I do have a 30% off coupon at Guess! Oh, dear.

Reflections on Starbucks

I happen to live in the Seattle area, where corner coffee stands are abundant, but for some reason Starbucks is the place I end up. When I stop to reflect on why, a few solid reasons confirm my subconscious' ability to automatically point my car in the direction of the nearest one.

For many people, holding a steaming cup of Starbucks Coffee is a status symbol. Someone told me that there is actually a person he works with, who refills his paper Starbucks cup with lunchroom coffee, and walks around with the lid on pretending it's the real thing. I don't think you'll find this coffee phenomenon here in Seattle, we are all used to seeing a plethora of paper coffee cups bearing all kinds of logos. This particular event happened in a different state, where perhaps a paper cup of Starbucks Coffee actually improves your status. Hmmm...a four-buck status improvement, interesting.

Other people find that their loyalties lie at the Starbucks counter. They can have their coffee drink made exactly the way they want it, and have it served by the same person who served it yesterday, in many cases. Coffee aficionados can tell you why Starbucks Coffee appeals to their taste buds. They can tell you about grower alliances, the harvesting of coffee beans, how roasting them affects their taste, and so on.

These are not among my reasons for why I find myself at Starbucks most mornings, (a fact my husband says I need to change). I could care less if I'm holding a Starbucks paper cup, or one that I got at the coffee stand down the street. The actual cups are probably made in another country, and the logos add to the price of my latte. As for loyalty, I couldn't tell you anything about how Starbucks makes their coffee, and I sure don't have a clue about their alliances in Africa or Guatemala.

For me, having a drive-thru is a major factor for me, in whether or not I will frequent a Starbucks. I'm certainly not going to get out of the car when I'm running late with three children in the back. For a few years, there was only a walk-in Starbucks and I hardly ever went inside. I found a few good coffee stands on my many routes, and was fine with them. Recently, however, two more Starbucks stores opened exactly seven minutes from my house in either direction (it's so sad that I know this), and these are the ones I frequent. So long independent coffee stand representatives, unless I happen to be on a different route.

When I do have time, Starbucks is open late, and I often meet friends there to chat over our steaming cups of java. The atmosphere is strangely relaxing amid the caffeine, and if I need to buy a gift for someone, all I have to do is peruse their many available treasures. Who doesn't like coffee?

Although I've been told to reduce my Starbucks expenditures to respect our budget, perhaps I can share these reasons with my husband, and becoming enlightened, he will allow me to go to Starbucks carte blanche. I won't hold my breath, how will I suck down the Grande-Vanilla- 2-Pump-Extra-Hot-Latte, I'll be enjoying in about seven minutes?

The Perpetual Organizer

Spring is generally a time of renewal, refreshment and reducing. People all over the world are spring cleaning, clearing and cl-dumping (I couldn't find a third "cl" word). My, shall I say problem, is that I do these things in Summer, Fall and Winter! I seem to be on a perpetual organizing trip, one that never ends, stops or ceases.


According to a family member, a person can actually come into my home and get me organized. Arrange folders with all pertinent information inside, color-coordinate closet clothes and tidy knick knacks. This, I'm told, costs a fortune but is well worth it.


Now, I will say there have been times when I've gone about organizing. One day last spring I was inspired to organize my kitchen cabinets...or the things inside my kitchen cabinets I should say. I went out and purchased plastic containers for cereal, put dry goods in labeled mason jars and used CD bins to house potatoes, onions and garlic. A year later, the mason jars are still labeled but empty, and the plastic containers sit on the shelves, get this, right next to the boxes of cereal. What went wrong? Maybe I was better off with my disorganized, disheveled kitchen.


Because of the current state of things, I've been inquiring about "organization" to find out if my situation can be changed. The answer is "yes," but it will be a lot of work for me, uggghhh!


I wanted to see if there was another suitable name for "organization," so I did a search on a thesaurus website. When I typed in "organize," it asked me if I meant "agonize!" Ha! The answer to that one is "yes!" Once I figured out the right search term, a few words came up that I thought were interesting. Here are a few: adapt, codify, classify, lick into shape (no joke), run and standardize. Some words were oxymorons having the opposite meaning: dispose and establish, set up and settle. This research didn't help me very much. Do I dispose of something, or establish it? How do I classify mis-matched socks?


It just so happens that I was talking to someone today, and she mentioned that in the back of her car she has a bin that holds a change of clothes for every member of her family. This is a foreign idea to me since I can barely get clothes washed, dried, folded and put away in everyone's dresser. How will I remember to change out the bin in the car? So I inquired about her organization skills. Highly organized. Another woman joined in the conversation, and she said that when her son was little, she cut out pictures of toys and put them on bins so her son could tell where each toy went. Another highly organized person. Two in the space of 10 minutes...interesting.

The picture-on-the-bin idea is not foreign to me, though I've never personally used it. My grandma takes Polaroid pictures of her shoes and tapes them to the shoe box before they do time on her closet shelves. I completely see the wisdom of this, but if I tried it, I just know Polaroids would come slipping off in my mad dash to get out of the house, and I'd come home to boxes, stray pictures of shoes and shoes that didn't make the cut on my closet floor.

So, why do my efforts result in more work than before? It turns out we are supposed to start with organizing one thing. If you can do this for a period of time, then start another "one" thing. Also, really think about whether or not your ideas will work for your particular family. Will your children take off their shoes and carry them to the bedroom? Will you reload the plastic bins with cereal every other Sunday? Before you go out and spend money on all the fancy organizing tools (and there are a lot), write it down, think about it and try one thing.

I'm currently adopting the "one thing" idea. My laundry room has been clean for two days now. No piles of shoes or dirty laundry adorn the floor right now. I'm hoping to keep it that way, but wondering when I will really have it down. Do I follow the 21 day rule? I guess time will tell.

The hardest part for me will be maintaining what I've organized. In talking with people, it seems that the organizing is the easy part, but the maintenance is where people get tripped up. This is definitely my problem, and will be the hard work I mentioned before. I am a junk-drawer-thrower-inner, a land-as-they-may-shoe-taker-offer and a dirty-clothes-on-laundry room-floor throwin' mama. In my haste, I don't create waste, unless we're speaking about time, but in my haste I create another -aste word that doubles for disorganized. Maybe...haste makes disorgan-aste?

If you are organized, or have any ideas that have helped you, inquiring minds are desperate to know. Maybe you have one of those fancy organizing tools that really works, a system that keeps certain things in order or maybe you have maintained that one area you struggled with previously. Help us to get organized, stop buying bins and create systems of maintenance. What will life be like in a tranquil, peaceful and organized home? I hope to find out! Thanks for your ideas!

Ecce Homo ~ "Behold the Man"

Ahhhh, Easter! What a wonderful time of year. It has a dual meaning for me...a parallelism of sorts. Signs of new life begin to appear, from the budding branches to the moistening of the earth. Last week I saw a man mowing his yard, not that unusual, except that I eagerly look for this particular sign to indicate spring has arrived. You can say "weird" out loud, it's ok! Do you know of anybody else who looks with such anticipation at where and when they will see the first mow of the season?

I'm also reminded of the new life I have. I'm encouraged that with all my abrasive thorns, gnarly limbs and frosty appendages, I am being renewed day by day!

So, on this Good Friday I ran across a beautiful painting from the hands of an artist by the name of Antonio Ciseri (you can google his name and click 'images' to see more of his work.) The title of this particular piece is Ecce Homo (pronounced ĕk'sē hō'mō ) and is Latin for "Behold the Man." It portrays the scene in the book of John where Pilate presents a thorn-crowned, purple-robed Jesus to the angry masses and declares, "Behold the Man!"

Did you know before this scene took place, Jesus was in the garden praying so intensely that his sweat was in the form of blood? Have you ever felt so intensely about something, so in anguish that you sweat so profusely? You and I will never see droplets of blood exude from our skin, it was a physiological phenomenon. Maybe that's why the only Gospel that mentions it is Luke, the physician, one who studied the human form.

This weekend as I put smiles on the faces of my kids through an overdose of sugar, and as I visit with family I love so much, I will also "Behold the Man" and remember all that He did for me...and you.

Happy Easter Weekend (Look for part 2, Sunday)

Moonstruck

Found something interesting to share. At least I thought it was interesting...you may as well.

The intro blog stated that topics will be wide-ranging, and so we move from "gumstretch" to "moonstruck"...oh life inside the chrysalis!

In the ancient world, many believed that not only could one get heat stroke travelling by foot, but that you could also be struck by the moon! The other day, my daughter was looking at our calendar and noted when the next full moon would occur, so when I came upon this notion today I found it curious and can't wait to tell her when she wakes up.

Anyway, they believed that if someone had seizures it was caused by intense moon exposure. The word "moonstruck" is a literal translation of the Greek word for "seizures." This is the part that I thought was the most interesting...the word "lunatic" comes from the word "lunar" or moon. So all those childhood myths about the crazy things that happen during a full moon, have come full circle. Can you imagine actually being struck by the moon? It isn't something I ever really thought about...I know Cher has a movie by that name. And lunatic...well I'm not gonna go there so early in the morning!

Blessings!

Gumstretch

Yep, first part of the title is gum...I'm sure you are familiar with it. I've tried carefully to avoid it as a mother of three, but it caught up with me just yesterday.

As a rule we are not a gum-chewing family. My husband thinks it's rude (when certain people do it), I get frustrated because the taste runs out and after three hours I'm still wondering why it's in my mouth. The kids of course love it, so we made up gumball Saturdays (going on three years now) and the rule is that if you take it out, you throw it out. It is a big deal for them because they don't get gum at any other time (I know we are so mean!). And, if ever we are not home on a Saturday they are quick to remember that as soon as we do get home, they get a gumball.

So yesterday I had one of my very best friends over for a playdate. We have seven children between us and it was just a fun day...definitely one for the books. The subject of gumballs came up, probably because we have a large gumball dispensing machine (which doesn't work because I bought the wrong size gumballs and we now have to use a gumball basket), that attracts the eye of every child who comes over. So they inevitably asked their mom if they could have one. I can't say the 'N' word to other children, so we moms agreed to let them have this little delight, which is every child's rite of passage (they will say when their all grown). Which means my children get to have not only a Saturday gumball, but one on playdate day as well.

Four hours later, maybe it was three, we are rushing to get somewhere as is usually the case. I'm sure you can relate. Anyway, I'm just filled with happiness, driving down I-5 on a beautiful day and my daughter (I won't mention names, but those of you who know us will catch on quick), says, "Mom, I still have my gumball!!" I just said, "uh-uh" and didn't think much of it until I look back a few minutes later to see that she had taken it out to save it for later so she could eat her gogurt. Unfortunately, she stuck it on her bare thigh, and with her window rolled down, wind in her hair, berry gogurt quenching a long hot day, she crossed her legs! That's right she crossed them and when she took them apart it was a spider-web of gumstretch. She, not being skilled at how to get gum off of anything because of our gum rules, kept stretching it piece by piece. Those of us who are more seasoned at these things can imagine me calling out instructions, "don't stretch, pull low, pull low!" and "don't get it on the car or your clothes!"

All ended well as I threw back a wipe (those things are amazing) and we got to where we were going, she got the gum off of herself, and car and clothes were spared.

I sometimes feel like I can't get free from things. It could be an obligation, a chore, a season of waiting (like now) or a phase of some kind. The gumstretch reminded me of that feeling. Send me a comment on how you got free from something, or if you are currently stuck in the middle of a gumstretch season, maybe we can help each other!

Inside the Chrysalis

Welcome to Inside the Chrysalis...a blog about growth. Just as a butterfly is transformed into a beautiful new creation, we hope to transform into amazing, radiant and fresh creations with dazzling patterns and reflective color. Topics will vary depending on our daily experiences and will include subjects like gardening, cooking, studying, crossfitting, mommying, help-meeting, reading and anything else that comes up inside the Chrysalis! Thank you for joining us!