My Heart Is Full

So is my brain and my days of late.  However, memories made on October 31, 2015 require this entry.  For the record, I hope I am never too busy or distracted to stop and enjoy a holiday.  Halloween is one of them. Well, there are traditions I must honor, right?

 

The least of which is that ghost on our front porch who blows in the Fall wind.  He is at least 30 years old. Vince made it after we saw one in his hometown one year when our children were young.  Next are the grave stones we made are a little younger in age.  I know that if either of these didn’t make it out of my attic to adorn my house, I would miss them.  I assume others would notice their absence too since we receive a lot of nice comments about them. 

 

One big gift on Halloween has always my dad’s birthday, this year his 85^th. To have him and mom in Bloomington these last 18 months is beyond special.   Never in my adult life had I been able to be with him on his birthday.    

Another tradition is what is eaten before anyone goes trick or treating or any candy is handed out.  That’s chili.  It’s something I remember my mom making when I was a little girl.  I feel like I’m honoring her when I make it, so I continue to make it. 

And then there are our grandchildren.  Of course Dylan and Abbie are now a part of the activities.  Who doesn’t enjoy Halloween when little ones are excited about dressing up and pretending to be their favorite hero or cartoon character. 

Getting four generations together to experience all the day’s activities is a little hectic and maybe even a little stressful. However, what a joy is it celebrating an 85^th birthday, receiving hugs and smiles from a little princess while Spiderman spells out words (now that he is in Kindergarten).  And these are some memories that fill my heart, with love!  

Bathing Suits

I’m dreaming of that green bikini just like the one worn years ago.  I’m mostly kidding but an itty bitty part of me pines for those days when trying on, purchasing and/or wearing a bathing suit didn’t cause heart palpations.

Vacation is on the horizon for Vince and me.  In a few weeks we will take our trip away from winter and enter a week of beach sand, chasing golf balls, eating Ms. Annette’s delicious food and enjoying the warm sun in our shorts and yes, bathing suits.

God had other things in mind for this body. I know this much, His plan was not for me to be wearing a Speedo.  My granny suit will do just fine as long as it covers me adequately.    And by the time I get to Jamaica I promise that bikini song in my head will be deleted. 

Happy...

I’ve been a mom for 34 years.  By far my most often wish was for my children to be happy.  I don’t mean the fa la la la la la la la la kind of happy.  But the kind of happy that is sustaining during life’s grind and grit; an inner feeling of joy or contentment.

Recently our youngest, Vincent, made a commitment to go to school at Rutgers University.  Once the decision was made he couldn’t wait for the adventure to begin.   He was voted in as class president, has worked hard for his class and made great grades. 

Aryah charged forward and paused a few times and now is on track to finish an undergraduate program at ISU in the Spring of 2016 even though she is also a wife, a mother and working full-time. 

Courtney finished her degree at IU years ago.  She’s independent and driven. She has been creative in sourcing income while working hard on an exciting career so she can live in NYC.    

Aryah, Courtney and Vincent I know you work very hard and are accomplishing much. I really do believe you are happy but want you to often ask that question of yourself, "am I happy?"   For the record, I’m happy for you, I'm happy to be your mother and also very proud of you too!  

Reading

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel, read only a page.”  St. Augustine

 

This quote is a favorite of mine.  It hangs on our refrigerator at home. I love it because I love to travel.  I love immersing myself in another culture, meeting new people and learning about their lives. This quote is also tied to another favorite pastime, reading. When I read I travel to far away places. 

 

Recently I picked up Margaret Mitchell’s “Gone With The Wind”.  I watched the movie years ago but never read the book.  For 3 plus weeks I read about the civil war, strong characters, southern customs, misguided actions and heartache.

 

Early on this book was irritating me.  It was a slow read.   I felt Ms. Mitchell could have made a greater impact by saying less.  And don’t get me started on Scarlett O’Hara.  Anyway, I finished that book yesterday and I could not make it to the library drop box fast enough.  Why, because I couldn't wait to be done with this book. 

 

Which leads me to point out an obsession of mine.  Finish reading any book I start.  It's not all together healthy.  But it forces me to experience the whole story, whether I like it or not.  I try to apply the same philosophy with any journey I take.  And my mother I can thank for that lesson.  She always said, "complete what you start."  Thanks Mom and thanks St. Augustine for sharing your wisdom! 

Outraged

Has anyone noticed lately our media is constantly using of the word “outrage?"  I have heard or read it in all formats and it’s starting to outrage me.  Well, maybe the latter is an overstatement.

Vince and I have been talking about this word’s use and so I googled it recently.  Is my premise supported?  Do your own search or keep your eyes and ears open and I think you will agree.  So what’s up with this? Is this the outrage decade?  Are people really this ticked off? 

My dictionary says outrage is “a viciously violent or grossly offensive act.” These acts are certainly happening everywhere, at home and abroad.  However, what kind of irks me is this term suggests that “the people” are outraged.  I know 2 or more persons make people :) but making headlines seems to imply that “the people” represents us…you, me and many others… 

Another over used media term is the phrase “critics worry.”  To them I would suggest they find another profession.  Worry is a waste of time even though they might be paid handsomely to worry. 

 

However, on a gentler side I would be grateful to see another “out” word used more often.  Outreach.  I believe you and I can be a part of a more positive act if only we reach out!  I am chewing over some ideas now.  Who are you reaching out to?

Lists

It’s been too long since I’ve made a blog entry.  I’ve not been stagnant.  I’ve been accomplishing a lot because I have crumpled up old lists to prove it. However, in an attempt to fill empty space here and cross one more task off my list I decided to enter my current to-dos.  Yep, I’m a List Nerd. It’s a critical guide for each day, so here goes…    

Change the oil in my car buy 10 golf club grips clean grass around the front porch deadhead all flowers fix roof shingle  pick up NY NJ OH PN maps from AAA pull weeds at entrance to golf course open savings account for grandchildren total May April June July Sales Tax call Rita at Uncle Bill’s church about Thanksgiving buy earring backs reorganize spare room deliver vanity to mom and dad’s apartment create phone list for mom hang hole-in-one plaques on the wall order golf course t-shirts check out jetpack from Verizon check out UMW Phoebe Circle for mom pick up prescriptions from pharmacy deliver receipts and credit card to church make bank deposit write blog entry.      

Sometimes the tasks in life run all together without any one standing out over the others. Sometimes a task will never be completed on its original list. It just moves to the next list.  However, regardless of format or age of a task a list helps keep me focused.  I’m grateful for all the lists I’ve made in my life.  I'm thankful I don't have to get this all done in one day. And I’m very happy when even one task is accomplished.

Inquiring Minds

I have been listening for days to a bird’s beautiful song.  I’ve asked customers if they know anything about birds, most said no.  I’ve asked if they could hear the song and many thought I’d lost my mind. So I did the next best thing, I searched the internet, my Audubon Society Field Guide, and I tried to find the bird through my binoculars.  Sadly, there was too much information to digest.  AND I discovered I get dizzy while looking through binoculars.

In the old days I would have contacted the library and talked with a reference librarian.  Instead, I decided to contact the local newspaper. Gratefully the H-T Outdoor Section Manager referred me to the local President of the Audubon Society.  Over e-mail and phone he directed my focus to...indigo buntings, warbling vireos and orioles.  With still no definitive match he came to the golf course to help me solve the mystery. 

Unfortunately, the bird wasn’t singing when he arrived.  So he played bird songs on his phone (which was a hoot) and I did my best rendition of the bird’s fancy song which I described as a “showtune”, which solved nothing (double hoot).  Fortunately, as he was attempting to leave, he heard what he thought was my bird.  With his binoculars and an explanation that birds put their own spin on the notes from time to time, he is almost certain that my bird is an oriole.

In case you are now curious, the song goes like this, “Do do do do do do do do doot.  Doot.   Do do do do do do do do doot.  Doot.”  I know its kind of hard to appreciate its beauty without the notes.  But I hope someday I can get it recorded. 

 

A birder I may never be, I'm just enjoying a sweet melodic mystery adventure. Now class, go out there and be curious!

Postscript.  After this writing my birder authority heard a bird over the weekend and he wrote me this e-mail message “I heard a couple of singing Orchard orioles on Saturday and thought, "that could be a showtune!"    (Triple Hoot!)

     

Let's Twist

I am not fond of dentists.  I don’t suppose I am alone.  Given the gift of bad teeth, unlike my siblings, I have a mouth full of crooked, silver filled choppers, almost all in disrepair. I have had many bad experiences while sitting in the dentist’s chair and recently, we lost our dentist to retirement.  He referred us on, Vince connected with the sweet, young Dr. Parker and I made an appointment because one bad tooth broke off months ago and an infection had settled in.  
 

My options were a root canal (nope, that’s a bad memory) combined with a very expensive cap (double nope). Or I could have it pulled.  I chose the latter.  In addition, she offered to pull it (double yes). I didn’t want to face another oral surgeon’s eye rolling after discovering I had to be sedated just to have one tooth pulled. 

Monday was the day.  I told her to not take it personally if I shed a tear or two.  She accepted the challenge and after sufficient numbing she starts pulling and pushing and twisting the tooth while telling me “all those popping sounds are a good thing”.  Just then I diverted my ear to the song on the intercom: Chubby Checkers, singing “Come on baby, let’s do the twist.”  Well, that brought back memories so I start humming along and the delightful Dr. Parker honored me with her laughter while simultaneous extracting the tooth.

Thank you Dr. Parker for a pleasant experience and for a trip down memory lane given your excellent choice in music!  For the record, I didn’t shed one tear and by the way I was a pretty good twister back in the day.

Jamaica 2014

Before we flew off to a week of summer amidst a snowy winter, I wrote down in my to do list, "I need to defrag."  It just came to me one day and although it is a term typically used in the IT world, it made sense to me.  My operating system needed everything to realign so my brain and my heart could function more effectively.  Actually there was one item on that list that made that happen. 

I set out to do daily devotionals with my friend Christine.   It happened and it set the tone for each day. On Wednesday evening of vacation in front of witnesses I declared that I was indeed defraged. 

It's been 8 days since vacation and I still feel defraged.  Below are remembrances of the sun filled days and how they filled me with joy!

We were on a road trip, stopped to stretch our legs (and drink a Red Stripe) and this man grabbed my hand and said he loved me.  In case you are wondering.  Vince was right there. :)

Mountainous terrain on the north coast.

Christine's new grandson.  And now my new grandson, so she says.

 Bamboo Avenue.  Yes, bamboo as far as the eye can see!

 Christine and one of her many delicious meals.

Christine buying fruits and vegetables from the mobile market. 

 The beach bench before we fixed the foot rest.

A missionary group from the U.S. were being entertained on our beach by a local church's lovely children.

 Christine's daughter Rene, helping her family with the laundry. 

Christine's Mama Pearl and sister Angela who welcomed us into their home.

 Christine showing us her mother's beautiful flowers.

Gifts from Bloomington for Christine, her family, local school children and the needy.

Christine's home in the hills, called Spicy Hill.  Her "veranda" on the left and older home on the right. 

 The beach bench after we fixed the foot rest.  A small legacy left. 

One of many roads we traveled to seek a better view of this island and the places they call home.

 One of many vistas on our travels.

And our beautiful home in Jamaica.

   

You Are What You Read

I’ve always been a reader.  I like to chew over stories and their characters.  I read more in the winter than I do other months. Winter reading also feeds me while I hibernate and allows me to travel without going anywhere. 

Even though my tastes haven’t changed over time I’ve noticed this particular winter what I’ve been reading has been affecting me more.  Lots of snow, a polar vortex, and more shades of grey than I can ever remember have been major factors.  Combining that with a daily serving of grief over the absence of my sister has tipped the scales.   

Aside from the 20^th installment by the milky but humorous Janet Evanovich and a light kitchen/recipe novel that I wrote about in my last blog, this winter's reading has been like chewing a tough cut of beef:  Jackdaws, (WWII espionage); The Invisible Wall, (WWII love story); and The Book Thief, (another WWII novel).  The latter’s narrator is…death.  See a theme?  See the problem?  

Like mounds of carbohydrates, reality hit me in the stomach this morning.  No wonder I’m sad and in a funk! Look what I’m feeding myself.  What do I do? I’m resolving it.  I’m changing my reading diet.   First, I’ll be placing more emphasis on my first meal of the day, morning devotionals. Second, I’m going to the library to find a lighter assortment of books to digest which should provide for healthier days.  I'll keep you posted...

Alone in the Kitchen...

“Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant” is the title of a book I read recently.  The editor says in the intro that it is “an anthology of essays on cooking for one and dining alone that could function as a cookbook as well as a lifting-off point for readers to follow their instincts and create their own idiosyncratic meals.”  Since Jenni Ferrari-Adler did not ask me for my essay for her book, I decided to record my own idiosyncratic meal here. 

Before I get to that I need to clarify a few points.  Unlike some of the essayists, I would not think about what’s for dinner at 7:30 p.m.  Dinner comes to my mind almost the moment my eyes open in the morning, sometimes even before then. Second, if I had to think of one dish that would suffice as dinner in a pinch it would definitely not be salad.  Don’t get me wrong I like salad.  However, I believe most vegetables are paired best with meat and gravy. Lastly, I never eat alone.  Even if no one is at the table with me I find good companionship by reading a book.

Now for that idiosyncratic meal…I would cook up some macaroni, drain it and then add a healthy dose of Velveeta to be set it aside so it gets all happy.  The first dish eaten would be mandarin oranges, speared by fork right out of the can as I stand near the stove sauteing my second dish of mushrooms, onion and garlic topped with a little salt and pepper. The main dish would be that macaroni swimming in melted, gooey Velveeta.  Yes, dessert is not on the menu.  In my mind, dessert (or pie in particular) is eaten only at breakfast.

This meal takes me back to the days when I would forage for food in my mother’s kitchen, when my joy of cooking was just awakening.  Mandarin Oranges were considered a delicacy.  Mushrooms were exotic (they were only sold in the can back then. Today I prefer fresh.).  And Velveeta (otherwise known as pasteurized process cheese food) was cheap, filling, comfort food.  

So for the record there’s my "i" meal and essay.  Chew it over and let me know.  

Some Assembly Required

When you purchase something that requires some assembly, don't you wish you could open the box to look over the instructions before you buy so you get some sense of what is involved in the "some assembly required?"

Any who, (I like that phrase) on Saturday Vince decided to purchase for the golf course a "some assembly required" leaf sweeper.  Our sweeper was a used gift from one of our very first golf customers, JJ.  It was kind of him to have given it to us.  We used it a lot over the past 10 years.  However, it was clear when Vince opened up the gear box last week that it was time for the old sweeper to retire.  

So he bought, in essence, a box of sweeper parts.  We staged our tool area in the back of my vehicle, laid out all the parts in our parking lot and I looked to the end of the instruction booklet to determine how many steps there were.  It didn't get us any closer to completion but it was good for me to know there were only 17 steps required.  

After connecting some 90 pieces with a few steps that had to be undone and redone, we learned the difference between clevis pins and hair cotter pins.  We had to make some decisions on our own, as the instruction booklet was somewhat vague.  And for three and half hours our collective hands and brains righty tightied and lefty loosied all the parts until we had a new leaf sweeper.

Now, if there were a reality TV show entitled "Some Assembly Required" I think Vince and I would make a great contestant team.  One minor note, we have yet to test our new sweeper to see if it works.  But I guess we still have time to do that before auditions begin.    

 

See Spots!

I have spots.  I have tried for years many methods to remove them.   On the rare occasion when I was successful, another one appeared. These spots are not contagious. Although one or two might jump onto you if you stand too close to me.  I have not given up completely trying to eliminate them but I have finally decided to more readily accept them. 

My spots are…on my clothes.  I can identify a few personal habits that contribute to my spotty appearance.   When in the kitchen I wear an apron but my clothes underneath still attract them.  When I eat I often drop a tasty morsel on my shirt before it reaches my mouth.  And I often catch myself wiping my hands on my clothes, (I know, eeeuu!)  Regardless, no amount of scrubbing, pre-treating, or washing ever removes my spots for good.

With this confession, I have decided that if I live long enough to meet my own incompetence, Aryah, Courtney and Vincent, promise me you won’t place one of those elderly bibs on me or worry about my appearance.  Just remember spots do not harm me.  They arrive when I am active and joyful.  And until that day, I choose wear my spots and I choose to wear them with a smile.

Why?

I'm frequently asking, "Why?"  I research a lot of questions but the ones I had recently just didn't seem "Google" worthy.  Instead I "went to the committee in my head."  I love that line.  It's not original.  I borrowed it from a James Patterson novel.  Anyway, here are some of my questions and the "committee's" response...

Q:  Why do squirrels seem so preoccupied when hanging out in the road?
A:  We think squirrels have been given a great ability to concentrate.

Q.  Why do I have one song playing in my  head for hours at a time?
A:  Don't question it.  Sing along!  And you know squirrels might also have one song playing in their head too!

Q:  Why did I buy insurance for my iphone for $9.99 a month (for the past 18 months which equals roughly $180.00) and then have to pay $199.00 for a new iphone because the microphone broke and no one could repair it for less than $199.00?
A:  We don't know.  That makes no sense.  However, if you had been a squirrel you wouldn't have been tempted to buy an iphone in the first place.

Q:  Why can't I remember when I arrive at the store the 4 things I came to buy?
A:  Because you probably had a squirrel encounter on the way to the store and that's all you can remember.

Q:  Why do people stop in front of me on the road, causing a traffic jam, because they want to change lanes?  
A:  We think they might simply have a squirrel-like ability to concentrate on only one task at a time.

In closing, I have a friend at the golf course that visited me today.  He came to the front door and we talked.  Yes, my friend is a squirrel and he was my inspiration for today's blog entry.  Why?  I don't know, he just showed up and all these questions popped up in my head!

Paths

The definition of a “path”, according to my somewhat old American Heritage Dictionary, circa 1977, is a “route or course”; “a trodden track or way”; “a course of action”.   I’ve been reflecting lately about life, its journey and how it takes us down certain paths.  I try not to over analyze life.  I tend to “go with the flow.” I have been reminded recently how experiences on this path can be exhausting and renewing yet constantly changing. 

For example, Vince and I have been blessed with an amazing summer.  There has been plenty of evening rain showers, lots of green grass to mow, mild temperatures and many sun filled days. The flowers, trees and wildlife have all had full life cycles.  The beauty surrounding us has been unbelievable and almost perfect. 

In contrast, the past few months have also been hard.  Sometimes it was difficult to breathe and often our minds wouldn’t let our bodies rest.  Our path was dark when we grieved the loss of loved ones.  It’s a part of life that is challenging and its affects linger.  Of course death is a part of this human journey.  We aren’t the first to have lost loved ones and it’s certain we’ll have to say goodbye to so many others down the road. 

Any “path” can be as bland as its definition.   It is neither alive nor colorful without God, loving people and prayer which all lift us up. A fulfilling life also includes past memories, current experiences and new life on the horizon.  As for the latter, a new grandchild is joining us within days.  I am grateful for this life.  I believe that both sadness and joy must be embraced and witnessed as we move along life’s path. 

My Sister Tish

Some called her Trish, my Aunt Sue called her "an original", my brother called her Grace, mom called her Tishy, dad called her Tish.  Many have given her other nicknames over the years but when I called her I would just say "Hello my sister".  She was my only sister.  Older by 3 years, I know she loved me even though a little sister can be a real pain.

I can remember being in my crib as a small child and Tish and her friend Cindy frightened me in the dark with flashlights under their faces.  Of course she had the best teacher in town.  Our brother Barry was a classic scare master.  We always knew he was standing at the bottom of the staircase hidden and he still managed to scare us which thrilled him to no end!

Tish was the North White Viking mascot in high school.  It required her to be in front of hundreds of people and her purpose was to get everyone fired up.  She was a perfect Viking.  She made her own sword and shield in shop class.  I think she was the first girl to be in shop class. Also in high school, one day she got on the intercom system and gave her opinion of the school's male atheletes.  She called them "Jocks."  That term wasn't intended to be complimentary and it caused quite a stir.  Tish was always stirring things up.  

She once told Uncle Jack that she almost becamse Prom Queen.  The only reason she wasn't was because she was never nominated.  A phrase she used often was "Not a problem" even though you knew quite well that it was a problem.  She would call and ask for advice on something and sure enough she never followed any of it.  She marched to the beat of her own drum.  She was a free spirit.  She was someone who loved to color her hair: frosted, red or violet.

Tish had a flair for the dramatic.  Her arms would sweep the air when she talked.  And when she sang she held nothing back.  She would swing and move and clap and dance.  You could always tell that she loved life when she was singing.

Tish also wore her personality well.  When she was little she would wear her PJs under her church clothes.  Once she went downtown to the King the Clotheir store in Monon and purchased a pair of boy's boots.  Mom made her take them back.  Later in honor of Tish I bought a pair of boy's boots at K-Mart and wore them everyday.  She had patience for sewing and made many dresses.  The clothing combinations she would throw together was something I idolized.

She was also accident prone.  One of many was when we went on vacation in 1972. She twisted her ankle while wearing those "damn clogs" and we had to take her to the hospital in Munich.  After that we all got sick of smelling the dressing the hospital put on her ankle.  It stunk!  But while we moved from place to place on the train she taught us the words to the song "One Tin Solder" from the movie "Billy Jack" and we sang it for days.  

One year she entered the state speech contest and read a poem she found in a book on one of Grandma Hughes' bookshelves.  At that contest she read "Rex the Piddling Pup."  When I looked it up on the internet recently I could see why Tish was drawn to it.  It was in a book titled "Bawdy Ballads and Lusty Lyrics:  A Curious Collection of Somewhat Salty Classics Seldom Sung in Sunday Schools."  No, Tish didn't go for the dry or uneventful she was an actress at heart.

My sister loved mom and dad.  Her face would light up when they walked in her hospital room.  She loved her husband Scotty; her boys, Charlie and Andy; her step-children, Korina, Donnie, Andrea and Sheila; and her grandchildren, Little Charlie, Karen Lee and Chloe.  She also loved her friends, Cindy, Paula, Jill, Suzy, Mary, Lori, Linda and Starla.  She collected friends and friendships everywhere she went like a shore collects sand.

Tish cared for the underdog.  She took care of stray cats.  She loved to plant flowers.  She hated to clean house (I almost broke her vacume cleaner once and was scolded - I don't know why because she never used it.)  And she regularly paid the price for following her heart rather than following the rules.

For quite some time now, when I see sunflowers I always think of Tish.  They were prominently displayed on her kitchen walls.  Also in that kitchen was her radio which was always turned on to the oldies.  Because she introduced me to the song Moondance by Van Morrison, at her apartment in Bloomington, that song frequently plays in my mind.  

Tish sang in high school, in church, in musicals, in Trinity with her girlfriends Jill and Susie, and she sang in the hospital.  The first week she was singing "Little Boxes" by Malvena Reynolds, (which was later a Pete Seeger hit.)  My husband thought that was a great way to marginalize the effect cancer had on her body.  At the nursing home she was singing at 2:30 a.m. before she passed away around 5:30 a.m. on Monday, July 29th.  I asked for the song she was singing.

You know with Tish it could have been anything.  It could have been something scary like "Frankenstein" by Edgar Winter.  Or it could have been something more descriptive of Tish like "Walk on the Wild Side" by Lou Reed.  Or something sad like "It's Too Late" by Carole King.  No it wasn't any of those.

It was a happy song.  A song from the musical Annie with words "tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow, you're only a day away."  Isn't that something?  Her middle name is Anne and she loved red hair!

My sister, faith in God tells me I will see you on some future tomorrow.  It gives me peace to know that your last song was a happy one.  You will always be with me through sunflowers, moon dances and your many loved ones.  And it has been an honor to be your sister!

I Think About Food

I think about food…a lot.  Perhaps it has something to do with growing up in a family that tended gardens, most dishes were made from scratch, and many loved ones simply enjoyed cooking.

When I was younger I had an Easy Bake Oven and usually I ate the batter before it was ever cooked.  Homemade ice cream was a constant at Aunt Opal’s gatherings.  What a delight it was to feel real cream sticking to the roof of my mouth.  Mom made pot roast every Sunday with carrots and potatoes and then I covered it all with her delicious gravy.  Grandpa Hughes’ flaky pie crusts filled with Aunt Opal’s fresh cherries or apples were always anticipated. Fresh eggs gathered that morning from Grandma Scott’s hens then cooked over-easy made my morning.  On many mid summer days I was armed with a salt shaker in one hand and warm tomato in the other.  I would sit on our front steps and enjoy every bite.

Present day I have my hutch covered with cookbooks already open and ready to assist me with a peach and blueberry pie. There are stacks of onions and garlic curing on my kitchen table and my mind is considering how I can use every portion of the plant in some future dish.  When I visit any grocery store, specialty or otherwise, (almost daily) I forget all there is in the world as I roam aisle after aisle considering what I can create with all these options combined with what I have on hand at home.  I have folders and boxes of recipes.   I have an ongoing project of organizing them.  Some are already in my computer and so many more need to be added.

My thoughts also linger today over the way chefs describe food.  A chef friend described a step in one of our Feast meals, “sauté the garlic and onion in olive oil until it sings.”    A book I’m reading “My Berlin Kitchen, A Love Story with Recipes” by Luisa Weiss calls recipes family heirlooms.   Both statements are clever and make me happy. 

At the end of the day, after I’ve decided on a menu, gathered the ingredients, constructed everything and bathed in its aroma, I eat with gusto.  While cleaning up the kitchen I start thinking about that next meal.  You may be thinking that I am obsessed with food.  However, I would prefer to categorize it as simply one of my many passions.  Bon Appétit (I wish you a hearty appetite). 

Where Am I?

Maybe it's because of the recent death of my father-in-law that I ask this question.  Before that I was basking in a beautiful Spring.  I've been gabbing to the flowers and vegetables and pampering them as they power through their life cycle.  For weeks I've been grilling tender asparagus to place on our dinner plates.  I also have been watching a growing belly with a new grand baby inside.  The other day I talked to her.

I've been sharing the leadership in my Soul Sistas "Love Revolution" Bible Study.  There have been great discussions in our Sunday School class with new Bible books being re-discovered.  I have a big faith community that makes me smile and think.  All of this has certainly helped my faith grow.  

And then there have been thoughts about God's gift of family and friends.  I have an awesome mother and father.  I had a great childhood with incredible memories.  I have siblings, children, a grandchild, friends, neighbors, customers, pets and strangers to keep me entertained and occupied.  I can't imagine any day in this life without these connections and our interaction.

It's a complicated life and it's an adventure.  I am saddened by the loss of my father-in-law.  I won't again hear him laugh or sing Silent Night on Christmas Eve.  However, I know he's in Heaven and surrounded by love and loved ones.  As for me, I too am in God's hands.  I too am surrounded by loved ones, laughter and beautiful voices.  And I am in a happy place.  

Dreaming...

Because I have a cold my dreams last night were a little feverish and more vivid than usual. 

Here's a summary...last night I visited with childhood friends.  We had a picnic out on the old Bess farm.  I sold and bought a new house in a new neighborhood in some unknown city.  I had a disagreement with some woman because she said I didn’t put her knife away after borrowing it.  I had to pick up all these people’s trash after they roamed around town partying on a flatbed trailer. I even decided that the military shouldn’t allow their solders to smoke if they are under 18 (can you even be in the military under 18?)  AND I walked at least 100 miles going from place to place!

 

I love to dream.  I’ve always been fascinated by how the thoughts from the previous day show up in my images at night.  I’m pretty sure I can tie most of these dream segments to something that came to mind yesterday.    

However, after all I did last night while asleep I know that I could use a nap today!

Spring and a Story

I’m in a late Spring rhythm, which includes mowing grass and blowing tree buds, leaves and seeds off greens.  The ample rain, cool mornings, abundant fragrances, blossoms of every color and warm sunshine is why Spring is my favorite season.   One other aspect of this rhythm is the increased interactions with customers.  I love to talk with our customers. The stories I hear perfectly compliment my daily tasks.    

Two weeks ago a husband and wife came to golf right before a rain storm.  They started to golf and eventually quit because it soon poured down rain. The husband returned with his brother-in-law the following day.  Last week the wife returned to golf with her parents.   They eventually shared their story and the purpose of their current Spring rhythm.  

They are from Minnesota.  The wife is receiving treatment at the Midwest Proton Regional Institute (MPRI) in Bloomington.  Her parents, family and friends are here to support her. They have been golfing at our course as a form of relaxation.  MPRI treats certain types of cancers.  This woman’s involves a brain tumor.  MPRI is giving her and her family hope.   Our golf course is giving them a place to relax together.

The father told me on Wednesday they were taking a one day break from golf because his daughter would be using that time to apply for a grant through her employer.  She is searching for ways to buy toys for MPRI’s younger patients needing cancer treatments.  His eyes welled up.  I could see his heart swelling at the thought that his daughter is focusing on gifts to others even though she has every reason to just be thinking about herself.

This has been a beautiful Spring and this family’s story touched my heart!