Itchy

Just had a little spontaneous minor surgery. Love that.

I have had this lump/bump on the top of my head for awhile now, but for a long time it was just sort of a curiousity -- it didn't really bother me so I forgot it was there. But over the last few weeks it's been bugging me a lot and started getting bigger. So, I decided to have it checked out.

Because have I ever mentioned that both of my parents died of cancer, and I have a three year old to raise? Yes? Just checking.

Rob informs me this AM that he'd like to come with me because he's been worried about it too. Huh. Bonus points to him for not letting on that he's worried, cause, you know... then I would have worried. (HA!)

Anyway, she looks at it & says blah blah blah, it's probably benign, blah blah blah, we can remove it if you want, blah blah blah, do you want to do it now? And next thing you know she's doing minor surgery on my head.

I mean I know it's nothing but it's still kind of fun to say that I had spontaneous minor surgery on my head.

That was about 90 minutes ago and now that thing itches like a mother. (What does that mean, anyway -- "like a mother?") I have a big iodine stain, a clump of hard, crunchy hair and a nasty yellowish spot about the size of a nickel in the middle of my head, which I am more or less hiding by this new giant headband I got at Kohl's on Sunday. Talk about your fortuitous purchases. But it was Kohls, and everything is always on sale at Kohls. Plus Sara said she wants to "share" it with me. Uh-huh.

Oh -- and did I mention IT ITCHES?

March 23: The day the camel's back broke

Today is my birthday.  I am old enough now that birthdays aren't really something I care too much about.  This is not to say that I don't appreciate being remembered, as I surely do; I just don't need to feel like queen for the day.

So, the highlight of my day thus far has been a Fiber One bar that I had as a late morning snack.  Seriously.  It was good.

More importantly, today is the day that I officially became psychologically (if not bureaucratically) divorced from my job.

Why?

Because today, I forgot to pick up my child from school.

It makes me sick.  Not because she was left stranded there (Rob, in an Elaine Brenner-like moment, just seemed to know that I was going to blow it and called me ten minutes before the end of school to confirm that I had indeed dropped the ball).   But because my stupid, aggravating, meaningless job somehow trumped my daughter today.  How can that possibly be?

It's ironic in a way:  I have recently been thinking about the working mom's dilemma, how we seem to think (or perhaps have been tricked into believing) that we can have it all.  It's not true, I don't care who says otherwise.  Oh sure, we can do it all -- poorly.  We can work and keep house and cook and clean and sort mail and do laundry and make sure our kids shoes fit (more or less) and go to the teacher conferences and return phone calls and e-mails and buy birthday presents and arrange for a co-worker's baby shower have a toothbrush by the sink for our kid every night.  But we can't do it all 100% of the time, and we can't do any of it really really well.  We can't find time to spend time with our husbands enough, or see our friends enough, or do something we enjoy enough, or sleep enough, or plan enough, or relax enough, or attend work functions enough, or play with our kids enough.

We can't.  Don't let anyone tell you any different.

So today was the last straw.  I am done trying to serve two masters.  I will give face time to one, but it can't have the rest of me; it's not worth it.  I just don't care about my career -- never have, never will.  It's a paycheck.

The bottom line is this:  I can never, ever let something as trivial as a job distract me from my child again.  And I don't think that's unreasonable.

The low-down on our down-lows

Casey over at Moosh in Indy is much braver than I will ever be. Younger and snappier and cuter, too (even if she does have chubby knees).

She'll tell you all about how it sucks to have PCOS over at her blog, if you're interested. I'm not going to unload my story, but I will say that this badass of the reproductive world has evidently decided to play dirty with me.

Prick.

Here's something this former academic geek just realized a couple of days ago:
The only test I've ever failed? The pregnancy test. It's strictly pass/fail, and no amount of homework can prepare you for it.

It bites, man.

Addendum:  My apologies to Casey for the salty language.  I guess you can say that she is classier than me, too.

Help save my neighborhood firehouse

You can go here to read my thoughts on the matter.

Or you can just go here and sign a petition to try & help save it*.

Please, and thank you!


*Let me know if you do -- leave me a note in the comments!

Borrowed blog

Posted this today over at 6249:

I think it would be safe to say that my mom hated her kitchen.

I mean really, really hated it. It wasn't very big and was in need of cleaning updating repair demolition renovation for years. Now that Rob and I are going through that process I think I understand (no no, I KNOW I understand) why Dad just never mustered up the strength to do it. There were big structural problems; a few new cabinets and shiny new linoleum would not have sufficed.

So, she lived with it: no ceiling, 45-year-old ugly flooring with the spots worn off from use, about 10 square feet of counter space, no room to move let alone work. Not that Mom was what you would have called a cooking enthusiast; no, she was more a reluctant meal provider. And provide she did, for nearly fifty years. Although her own mother had pretty mad cooking skills, my mom probably picked up most of her own recipes by meeting my dad's culinary requests: farm food. Fry it, boil it, cook it til it's done. If it starts green make sure it doesn't end that way. Bacon grease is the third essential seasoning. And if it dirties more than two pans? Well, it wouldn't dirty more than two pans, not if Mom had anything to do with it.

The kitchen though, despite its sad lot in life, was still the hub of the home. We probably spent as much time sitting in there, on those uncomfortable wooden chairs in various states of reliability, as we did in the living room. Maybe even more. Dad, having grown up spending a good deal of his childhood with his Depression-surviving grandparents, was rather reluctant to keep the heater set above 65 no matter how cold it got outside. Mom's solution? Head into the kitchen, turn on the oven & then prop it open for a few hours. I remember finding her in there one day with the gas burners on the stovetop going, too.

Yes, the house was notoriously cold.

But not the kitchen. It was also never very organized. Or tidy. Or clean, for that matter. But it never lacked for food or drink - or pens or rubber bands or screwdrivers or envelopes or gadgets or sunglasses or reading glasses or batteries or matches or just about anything else you could think of. The kitchen was indeed Mom's command center.

And so I had mixed emotions when the day came to gut it. A loved and hated space, but full of memories. When my mother-in-law offered to empty it for me I felt obliged to argue with her but secretly (or not so secretly) was relieved, because not only was this a big project, it was a big deal. When I went in there a few days later, so appreciative that I had somehow managed to escape the job, I opened up the cabinets -- the ones filled with her dishes and address books and old crocks that hadn't been used for decades -- and found nothing.

Nothing except the notes Mom left behind, scribbled on the backs of her cabinet doors: An eye chart she had to use when I was a kid. The phone number for our neighborhood paper boy -- from 1980. A list of her kids' phone numbers. A sticker with the code for a combination lock, long gone. The number for L.S. Ayres. Random names and numbers of people I never knew.

All the ephemera of her life, easily retrieved behind those doors.

And the ephemera, I couldn't part with.

So Rob, being Rob, offered to save the doors for me. Every last one. Those old, ugly doors so in need of... I don't even know what. But I'll figure it out. They're going to go up into my attic, where I'll put them back into use. Probably to start collecting my own notes and messages, my own ephemera.

Our project has moved along now, so much so that nothing remains of my mom's kitchen. Even the walls have been stripped and moved, and it takes a good bit of imagination and thinking on my part to remember where things used to be. Mom, I'm sure, would have loved it -- though more for its elevated role as hub of the home rather than its improved function for meal preparation.

No, I won't miss that kitchen. But I sure do miss the cook.

You should go there

This is my favorite new site. It's like a picture book. Yes, yes -- I know there are words. But I like just scrolling through and looking at all the beautiful things.

Love!

Sara at the farm

Hop on over to Sara's site for some pictures from this weekend.

My new kitchen?

Also huge. Kinda freaking me out huge.

Never mind what you've heard

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. I think in this case it's the t-shirt.

While Rob was out in Pennsylvania a few weeks ago, the big snow we got melted and our alley was chockablock with mud puddles just ready for the jumping. Even this mess-avoiding Mama couldn't deny her child the pleasure of a romp through the mud.

True to form, the adventure started before we even left the house. That's when I discovered this wonderful work of art on my sister's kitchen wall. She could not have been prouder. (Relax, it's chalk.)



Here she is demonstrating her best mud-flinging moves. It took some perfecting, let me tell you.


And here she stands in all her glory. There is nothing* I don't love about this picture, and I think it might be the closest thing to the real Sara I've ever seen in a photo: hand-me-down boots two sizes too big and a Tinkerbell ringer shirt with a not-even-close-to-matching sweater she had to wear because it came from her Aunt Trish; messy hair totally blinged out with who knows how many pretties; and a cheap but highly prized white plastic cross (proclaiming "Jesus [hearts] Me" in gold letters, or course) that she picked up in Sunday school at a church we were visiting.

This is, without a doubt, every bit my kid. And I love her so much it's crazy.



*Nothing that a little better camera work on her mother's part couldn't fix... darn you, soft focus!

Attic

There's finally an attic.  It's huge.  When the house is done I'm pretty sure my family will only see me if they make there way up there.

Starting to get anxious about the costs of finishing everything.  We are doing the buying/installation of a lot of the finishes.  Not only trim & paint & doorknobs (the doorknobs!  you can't imagine how many doorknobs are in your house) but small things like, oh... the kitchen.  So, in thinking about my attic I've resolved to do it all (caveats to follow) by either reusing or repurposing things we already have or by using thrifted items.  Lord knows we have enough random pieces of furniture and tchotchke already up there that I can make a good dent without much of an investment besides my time and a little elbow grease.  

There might have to be a couple of exceptions, like a good work table or two and a couple of ergonomic chairs as well.  But other than that, I have no real excuse for laying out a lot of money on this space.  Besides, I kind of like the challenge and will have some fun doing it.  And it seems fitting, doesn't it?  To fill my attic back up with castoffs -- only this time, with a new life!

Two years tomorrow

Tomorrow will mark two years since we lost Dad.  

Time has a way of fooling me anymore.  I feel like we've been without him -- without both of them -- for so long, and I feel like he just walked out the door a few minutes ago.  It's strange, really.  

Two years ago it was so cold; there was ice on his bedroom windows, the wind rattling them and blowing the curtains.  We all spent hours and days with him there in his room, doing the best we could.  I've always hoped it was good enough.

I think this is how Dad lived his life:  doing the best he could, hoping it was good enough.  He knew where he fell short (something not everyone can say) but rarely apologized for it, a product of his generation.  He worked hard and did not part easily with his money but was generous with the people he loved.  And you knew you were loved, although those words rarely came from him.  He was heartbroken when Mom died, never ever the same.  I honestly believe that's what killed him, not the cancer.

At the end of the day, I think Dad just wanted to make sure his family was OK.  Well Dad, we're OK.  Your three kids, who on the face of things may not seem to be all that much alike, have closed ranks.  We're still in it together, still bickering, still watching out for each other, still meeting for birthdays and Sunday dinners and Christmas.  It's not the same, but it's good.  Better than most.

Thanks for that, Dad, and for all the rest that we never realized mattered until it was gone.  We miss you.

Late night conversation (when late is eight)

When you're three, five must seem like an awful lot.  It's nearly twice your age and manages to use up all your fingers.  It's a lot.  Just ask Sara.

Last night as I was laying with her before she fell asleep, Sara asked me who my best friend was.  Then she said -- "I know, Papa and me."  Who could argue?  She seemed very impressed that I have two best friends.  Not content to stop there, she quickly said "Oh wait, Grandma and Grampa are your best friends, too.  You have FOUR best friends!" and proudly showed me her four fingers.  By now I could see where this was going, so I waited to see who lucky number five would be.  Nana?  My sister?  Pete, our cat?

"Oh Mama!  Jesus is your other best friend.  You have FIVE best friends!  Wow that is a lot!"

This girl.  So smart.  She kills me.

First flowers

This moring I saw snow drops out in the courtyard at work.

Just a week or so ago it was as cold as I can remember it being and we had enough snow on the ground for sledding, snowmen, and snow forts. Now I'm itching for spring and keeping my eyes wide for more spring bulbs to poke through.

A good metaphor to keep in mind these days. Perhaps I should start looking for more spring bulbs in my workplace as well. Or maybe, somewhere else.

We'll see.

bad decisions bite

or should i say, they bite you in the ass.

work today was really pretty awful, and this on the heels of a lousy couple of weeks.  taking my current job was a bad decision on a lot of different fronts.  bad for me, bad for rob, bad for my work relationships, bad for my health...  bad.  i've learned a lesson in all of this (i suppose that could be considered "good"), but now i'm ready to move on.  unfortunately life dictates that, at least for now, i can't.

it would be nice to know that i'll never make another bad decision -- but let's face it.  life doesn't play out that way.  perhaps it's reasonable to hope that i won't make another bad decision with such far-reaching collateral damage?  maybe?  maybe?

yep.  those best-laid plans of mine, they're biting me right in the ass.  [ouch]

i prayed tonight that if there was another path -- one that was good for me, good for rob, good for my health -- i would recognize it and not be afraid to take it, no matter how outrageous it may seem.  that would be a leap for me.  of course i had better not repeat the mistakes i made last time around because, then?

another bad decision.  and my butt is still smarting from the last one, thank you very much.

i'm off now to stew about the day and wrestle with my anger.  should be a delightful evening.  so looking forward to tomorrow.

[ouch]

stuck

I want to blog. I have two posts sitting in the queue, waiting to be written. For whatever reason, I find myself unable to get them out.

So, I'm posting this instead. A reminder that I am here. I have not yet been swallowed up by my job (though the corporation seems more and more determined to do so), or crushed by impatience (though this home-renovation project is testing my limits) or done in by responsibilities (though bills and estates and dinner and preschool conferences do tend to consume inordinate amounts of thought, if not time).

I am here. I still want to grow gardens and learn how to sew, to put up food for my family and craft in my attic, to stay home with Sara and learn how to play again. I want to become healthier and keep my family healthy. I want to opt in to voluntary simplicity and repurpose everything under our roof. I want to be organized enough to remember to send birthday cards and thank you notes. I want to give back to everyone who has given to me, then just keep on giving. I want to enjoy some quiet.

It all seems very far away.

I'm still here. If you can't hear me, come find me -- OK?

On my mind

I stumbled across this article by Dean Anderson on SparkPeople today, and it covers so many things that I'm thinking about and trying to address this year that rather than try and say it all myself I thought I'd just post it instead. It's a nice introduction not only to voluntary simplicity (without freaking you out) but a reminder of why we tend to overindulge in the first place.

Some highlights that really resonated with me (italics are his, bolds are mine):

"Voluntary simplicity is less about doing without certain things, and more about having just enough. It’s about living a full life by intentionally designing your life so that you don' t have to sacrifice anything important or waste your time, energy or material resources on things you don't really need or cherish. It’s also about integrating basic ethical concerns such as fair distribution of labor and resources and the well-being of the natural world into your personal choices. "

"The first step towards constructing a voluntarily simple life is to gradually begin paring your life down to basic essentials—the things, activities and relationships that you truly need or genuinely cherish... Here’s a short list that many people focus on while trying to move towards voluntary simplicity:

• Limiting material possessions to what is needed and/or cherished
• Meaningful work, whether paid or volunteer
• Quality time with friends and family
• Joyful and pleasurable leisure activities
• A conscious and comfortable relationship with money, charting a course between deprivation and excessive accumulation
• Connection to community, but not necessarily in formal organizations
• Sustainable spending and consumption practices, such as recycling and supporting local, community-based businesses with fair labor and environmental practices
• A healthy lifestyle, including exercise, adequate sleep, and nutritious food
• Practices that foster personal growth, an inner life, or spirituality, such as yoga, meditation, prayer, religious ceremonies, journaling, and/or spiritual reading
• A connection to nature, such as spending time outdoors regularly
• Aesthetic beauty in personal environment"

"The practice of voluntary simplicity helps you reduce the influence and power of unhelpful cultural biases and habits, and gives you room to develop better alternatives for yourself and others. The better you become at simplifying your life and letting go of what’s not important and what you can’t control, the better you'll be able to fully experience what you are doing in the moment, and take what it offers you without being distracted by worries about what happened earlier or what might happen next"

Good stuff, good stuff.

I was on board until the lead-in by Leonardo DiCaprio...

So.  We have a new president.

Like so many others I took a break from my desk today to make sure I witnessed the swearing-in of our 44th President.  A historic event on many levels, I think.  I was surprised to find myself moved by the ceremony, not so surprised to find myself offering up a silent prayer for our country and this new leader, that he be blessed with wisdom, bravery, and perseverance.  

Rob and I have talked a lot the last couple days about the coming days and an Obama presidency.  We didn't vote for him, and I am trepidacious about some of his policies and agendas.  Still, I have nothing to gain by hoping he fails.  I would love to be surprised by his success.  This is one thing that I have been most troubled by over the last eight years -- the position taken by many (yes, even by some who I admire very much) that belittled our Commander-in-Chief, blasting him as an idiot or rube whose time in office did nothing more than drag us into an "unjust" war and economic failure.  

I think that's over-simplifying, and I think it was unproductive.  I also think that fueling yourself with vitriol is not nearly as powerful as hoping for success despite your fears to the contrary.

And so I am choosing to hope and pray, and believe that this man who did not earn my vote --but always had my respect -- will ultimately earn my support as well.

I'm also hopeful that he, more than any other politician in recent memory, can change our fundamental attitudes about this country, the privileges and responsibilities of being an American, and the possibilities that are still available to all of us.  If he can do this he will have done more than most, and it will go a long way toward shoring us up and turning things around.  (And so for this, I am glad that Obama is our new president.)

Sadly, I write all of this as I watch the evening coverage of what has become a civil servant's coronation of sorts:  Countless celebrities, a backstage interview with our new president, journalists in ball gowns and tuxedoes, discussions of what designer the First Lady is wearing.  When the anchor threw it over to Leonardo DiCaprio to cover the crowd on the floor...  well, that's when they lost me.  I watched the Golden Globes last week; I really don't need a repeat performance again tonight.

I hope the significance of this day and the promise of what this particular man can do isn't eclipsed by the star-studded after-parties and (newsworthy?) interviews with the cast of NBC's Thursday-night line up.  I'm worried that it is.  I'm disappointed already, and we're only 10 hours into his presidency.

Let's not squander another opportunity to allow our President to succeed and lead as we have asked him to do.  Let's respect the office and the man who fills it, regardless of our politics.  

And please, let's leave Leonardo out of it.

Ramen? Really?

Yes, actually -- really.

I am constantly looking for a way to make vegetables more interesting and fun to eat.  I don't really dislike them, I'm just not excited by them.

(Note to self:  Um, you have some emotional food issues.  Food should not have to excite you to be eaten, it should nourish your body.  Add "dealing with food issues" to your to-do list.)

So anyway I try to keep veggies appealing by choosing multi-colored carrots over the standard orange ones, mesclun salad mixes over iceberg lettuce, yellow and purple tomatoes over plain old red -- you get the idea.  Plus, I have a three-year-old and an admittedly culinarily unadventurous husband to feed so variety is important in our house.

Enter:  ramen.

I mixed up a salad last night that was so good I made it the entree for dinner tonight.  Didn't help that the husband was out this evening & my sister was here so the only ones duplicating were me & my daughter (and she's not going to rat me out).  Anywho, here's the scoop:

6 cups of your favorite mixed greens

Whatever salad veggies you have on hand -- I used red & purple carrots, scallions, and celery

About 1/4 cup of pine nuts (available pre-toasted from Trader Joe's!)

One package of ramen noodles

Low-fat asian salad dressing (below)

6 ounces thinly sliced flank steak (mine was left over from last night - teriyaki!)

 

Throw the greens, veggies, & pine nuts in a nice big bowl. 

 

Break up the ramen into small pieces (but not crumbs) and toast it in a dry non-stick pan for a couple of minutes.  Add hot water to the hot pan, just enough to float the ramen, and let it cook about 2 minutes -- til it's soft but not mushy.

 

Drain off the excess water and let it cool while you make the dressing:

 

1/2 cup fat free balsamic vinegarette (keep it basic)

~ 1/2 tsp crushed garlic

~ 1/2 tsp fresh grated ginger

~ 1 tsp toasted sesame oil

~ 1 Tablespoon sugar (or you could substitute the sweetener of your choice)

Whisk together with a fork & you're done!

 

Add the ramen and dressing to the veggies & toss.  Plate it up and top with the flank steak.  This will make two REALLY BIG adult salads as well as an appropriate plate for a three-year-old. 

Delicious!  My daughter digs it because of the ramen and "purple carrots and purple leaves."  (We are VERY into purple these days.)  My husband likes it because it seems less like a salad with the noodles mixed in.  And I love it because it's tasty and filling and is only about 375 calories for the whole meal.

I know a lot of the ingredients may not be things that everyone has on hand, but if you like Asian foods and want to stock your pantry I highly recommend the toasted sesame oil -- TONS of flavor by adding very little oil.  Pine nuts could easily be swapped out for another nut of your choice -- almonds come to mind first, but I'm sure others would work too.  You could also use any protein you like (chicken, seafood, other cuts of beef) as long as it wasn't seasoned too heavily with competing flavors.

 

And the ramen?  Come on.  You're probably got some hidden away, right?

A new approach

So.

I've never been a fan of the New Year. I tend to cling to the old rather than embrace the new -- it feels safer, I suppose.

But it's hard to start a new year without at least thinking about what you hope will be, or hope to change, or hope to do. And inevitably, when you're me, that leads to thoughts about health and fitness and weight loss.

Again.

2008 was not a banner year in that regard. In fact, I pretty much wrote it off last year. It is a bad place to be, believing that you are fated to a lifetime of obesity (there, I said it). It is depressing, and scary, and paralyzing, and is a sure-fire way to seal the deal -- and fast.

This year I'm thinking about things a little differently. Rather than approach this lifestyle change bluntly, struggling every day (every minute) to Do The Right Thing, I'm working on the smaller habits that will get me there. So I'm not intentionally making big changes to my diet -- but I am keeping a food journal, a habit that not only keeps me accountable but also makes me mindful of what I eat. I'm not creating a rigid schedule of workouts and weight training, but I am getting my ass out the door to take a walk around the block with my family. I'm not broadcasting my efforts and preaching What's Right to everyone I meet, but I am intentionally connecting with people who understand my struggles and encourage me to continue fighting the good fight.

I've finally, finally realized that big changes don't -- can't -- come about with one or two major fixes. They have to come about through layers and layers of little ones. Some might seem insignificant, but I believe they will be the foundation for bigger and better things to come. I have to believe this. There aren't many alternatives left.

In a lot of ways I'm applying these principles to all sorts of areas in my life -- our home, my future garden, hobbies, friendships, new skills I'd like to learn, new ways to earn a living. I'm not just going to take the sewing machine out of the box & whip up a ball gown. But I do need to get it out of the box, right?

Baby steps, baby steps.

Happy New Year!


Addendum: An article that was helpful for putting things in perspective. Yes, it's from O. Love her or hate her, Oprah and her minions always have something to say!

One less thing to feel guilty about

Our dirty little secret:

While Skip was here & time was tight, we became regular users (and possible abusers) of paper plates. Chinet paper plates, to be specific. And though we have cut back our consumption of these no-need-to-wash-them! delights, we are still occasional users.

I wonder what kind of drug they give you to come off your no-dishpan-hands high? Methascrub? Washadone?

Anyway, as I was washing the dishes tonight I was looking at the (brand new, economy-sized) package of Chinet and saw that not only is it made from recycled materials it is also biodegradable in home composting.

And my first thought was -- cool! I'm not as much of a slacker as I thought. (Not as much.) I'll be sure to add future plates to the compost bin.

And my second thought was -- really? What a weird thing to emblazon across the front of their product. Because honestly, I doubt that most home composters are likely to buy disposable plates, and I doubt that most users of disposable plates are home composters.

Except us, of course.

Borrowed blog

I just put this up on the site recording our renovation project, but thought it seemed appropriate to post here, too.

Taking a look back

This house of ours holds a lot of memories.  Seeing it now, in it's mid-demolition, torn-up state (like a Pheonix, I keep reminding myself) it's hard to imagine it's past life.  But I'll try anyway.

Our neighbors to the north and south sit fairly close to use, but we do have a nice deep yard.  The front yard slopes up from the sidewalk about 4 or 5 feet and was always good for rolling down in the summer or sledding down in the winter.  When I was a kid there were two big maple trees flanking either side of the front walk -- not particularly good for climbing but lovely nonetheless.  I remember when Dad took those trees down (and the ER visit that followed).

The back yard was always a lot busier:  vegetable gardens, flower gardens, barbeques, soft ball, tree climbing, countless auto repairs, refinishing old treasures from the attic, trying to dig my way to China -- I could to on & on.  As I look at it right now, from my sister's dining room, I see pulled-out railroad ties that were once used to construct our patio, fallen limbs, and earth mover, debris of all varieties, a dumpster, and lots & lots of mud.  Mom's old white pine, the one she brought back from Maine when she was a kid and moved to this house when she got married, still stands in the back corner, oddly-shaped from storm damage more than 20 years ago but holding it's place of honor regardless.  None of us has the heart to take that tree out, so I suppose it will stand there until another, stronger storm comes along and does it for us.

The peonies are awaiting their return next spring, right now tucked in under quite a stack of firewood.  I always loved the day the peonies bloomed, because I knew the end of school was right around the corner.  Now I love them because of their heavy, frilly blossoms & familiar, comforting scent.  Another reminder of Mom, too.

Dad's vegetable gardens are lots in the track marks left by the parade of machines we've seen over the last few weeks.  I think we're going to try something new (raised beds and "square foot gardening") but just the sight of sprouting seeds and ripening tomatoes will be enough to keep Dad's memory alive for me.  Sara is so excited about this, too -- she asks me every night to tell her the story about the garden, and wants to plant every tomato she sees in my seed catalogues.

We have big dreams for this yard of our, most of them new twists on old themes.  We'd like a new patio, this time with a pergola, and of course a nice big garden.  We'd like a play set for Sara and her friends in the neighborhood and feeders to lure back the birds that Mom spent so many years feeding herself.  We look forward to barbeques and blooming peonies and another 30 years with that old white pine.

Everything old is new again.

On my mind

• Tile:  floor, wall, porcelain, ceramic, hex, subway
  
• Gardens:  vegetable, flower, square foot, tidy, productive
  
• My eye:  watering, and a little sticky?
  
• Work:  necessary, uninspiring, windowless, resuming soon
  
• Home:  underway, exciting, slow, hopeful
  
• Walking:  a pleasant nightly stroll
  
• Swimming:  necessary, mortifying, hopeful, relaxing
  
• Squash:  tasty acorn
  
• Vacations:  are nice I hear
  
• Carpet:  or hardwood?
  
• Photography:  more time, enjoy it, how about some still lifes?
  
• Sleep:  elusive, anxiety-inducing
  
• Sara:  infuriating/heart-swelling, frustration/pride, stiff-necked/tender-hearted -- overall, awesome
  
• Rob:  see Sara
  
• God: still, quiet, listen
  
• Simplifying:  everything
  

It's 12:55am. Do you know where my sheep are?

So.  It's nearly 1:00 in the morning.  And I am very, very awake.  Not very happy about it, either.

This holiday season, it's not been one for the ages.  Don't get me wrong -- in a lot of ways it's been lovely.  Sara, I am convinced, had the Best Christmas Ever (until next year!) and that's really all that mattered to me.  So in the end I suppose I should count this a success.

Except.

Well, she threw up Christmas Eve (her first real emesis -- cool!) and that really threw us all for a loop.  My grandmother has spent the past two holidays in one sort of healthcare facility or another and, though I would not have had it any other way, I'd really rather spend Christmas day at the farm than in the rehab unit at the Four Seasons.  To top it off, I've been under the weather myself for the better part of two weeks.  I'm getting tired of it if you'd really like to know the truth.  Sleeping proves tricky when you can't breathe, and waking up gasping for air has been commonplace the last few nights.

But then again at least I was asleep, right?

I had been looking forward to five days away from work, enjoying the freedom to hang with my daughter and get out & about with the family.  Instead?  Haven't left the house since Christmas day.  And when I finally do, it will be to go back to work in seven short hours.

BUMMER.

I did, however, get to spend a little quality time with the seed catalogues today.  And while to the untrained eye my back yard looks like little more than a mud pit housing several large earth-movers & a cement mixer -- set off quite nicely by a large, silty pool I might add -- to me it is nothing but potential.  I am having to remind myself that perhaps I shouldn't try to install EVERY new plant this year.  (I am also having to remind myself that, at the rate construction has been going, those large earth-movers and the cement mixer might still be here this summer.)  Still, the thought of new raised beds for square-foot gardening is giving me a thrill, not to mention imagining a cutting garden that will keep us in flowers half the year.  And I'm even dreaming of some berry bushes.

Day-dreaming, naturally.  Because did I mention?  I'M STILL AWAKE.

Yep, yep I am.

Ugh.

Merry Christmas!

Ah, the holidays!

It's about 12:30am on Christmas morning.  Sara got to sleep at about midnight, after tossing & turning and coughing and vomiting and bathing and tossing & turning some more.  She has a lovely rash and sounds, well -- horrible.

My Christmas cards?  They arrived via FedEx today.  So be on the lookout for your post-holiday Merry Christmas from the Gunns real soon.  (I've never ordered cards from Snapfish before and likely won't again -- these were supposed to be picked up in the store.  Grrrr.)

Santa is hard at work assembling his toys for the big unveiling in just a few hours...  He sure does use a lot of packing material.  Must be a bumpy ride all the way from the North Pole.

But before you leave here thinking I'm nothing but a Grinch, I have to say that in many ways this has been an especially lovely Christmas.  I wish Sara wasn't sick for so many reasons, but among them is that I don't want her first "real" Christmas to be spoiled by an unforgiving bug.  It has been so much fun watching her experience all of what will become our family traditions for the first time:  learning about Santa, singing carols every night together in bed, taking drives to look at all of the pretty lights, making cookies for the big guy -- she has loved it all.  She believes, and if you want to know the truth I believe a little bit, too.

I miss my parents but they are still here, living in many of our rituals.  There's an apple in every stocking and Santa still doesn't wrap his presents.  We'll have our grandmother's coffee cake in the morning and, hopefully, still make a trip down to Columbus to see Grammy.  And in the midst of all of this is the joy of seeing that little face anticipate, imagine, and wonder.  It's really the most fun I've had in a lot of Christmases and is probably the best gift I'll get this year.  I think now I understand why my parents never cared so much about the presents they received but still counted this time as the best of the year.  

They were right.

Saunter on over to...

... Sara's blog for some really lousy outstanding pictures from her gymnastics demonstration last week. I'm not sure how Miss Jeanie does it week after week, but God love her for it.

Please answer in the form of a question

I'm pretty sure that Sara is destined to be a Jeopardy! champion, because EVERY FREAKING THING SHE SAYS IS A QUESTION.

Here, a transcript in real time:

Are they fixing my house?
Why?
But why do they fix it?
How many naps until school?
You don't?
Why?
Can you get my circles and my star for me?
Why?
Why?
Why am I driving you crazy?
Is it funny?
Why isn't it funny, Mama?
But why?
Are you laughing Mama?
What did you see?
What are you doing?
Mom?
Mom?
Mama, what are you doing?
I'm killing you?
Why?
Mama?
What is he gonna do?
Why?
Why's he gonna fix the house?
Gramp isn't here?
What did you say (sigh) for?



ARE KIDDING ME? OH MY G*D, AM I DOING IT NOW TOO?

The Best. Thing. Ever.

The only thing to make me laugh during the past fever, chills, stomach-cramp filled 24 hours:

http://www.firemeetsdesire.com/

Keep spraying to get to the King... you won't be disappointed.

Just moments before the time out:

Rob:  Sara Hope, don't grab the kitty!

(Sara grabs the kitty)

Rob:  Sara!  What did I tell you?!

Sara:  Don't grab the kitty.

Rob: What did you do?!

Sara:  I grab the kitty.

Rob:  Why??

Sara:  Because I grabbed him.

And you know, you really can't argue with that.

Hypocrite

I just wrote up this whole post about a story that simultaneously breaks my heart and turns my stomach, and how I don't understand why the writer feels at all apologetic about her opinion on the matter.

And then I promptly archived it because I didn't want to offend anyone.

(sigh)

Close to home

I work for one of the largest employers in my state.  A few weeks ago, during my weekly meeting with our department's director, I was told that our organization was going to have to cut costs by 5% across the board but that "at this point, no lay offs are anticipated."

Well, at this point, they are.

My husband read me the headline from the newspaper this morning.  Because we are a hospital system they are not eliminating positions involved in direct patient care but are instead cutting personnel in "white collar" positions.

Did I mention that earlier this year I went from a clinical to an administrative postion?  Yes, yes I did.

I'm not anticipating a pink slip, though perhaps that is naive on my part.  Going forward I suspect that I am going to witness a lot of things I never thought I'd see as this economic situation continues to unfold.  In reality, I already have -- I had never personally known of families whose financial security was rocked by job loss, and now I knew several.  Rob's desire to own a piece of land and buy a few chickens is starting to look a lot more appealing.  "Farmers don't starve," he says.   I suppose he's right.

Earlier today we three adults, sharing this charming little two-bedroom, one-bath bungalow with one very active almost-three-year-old, had pretty much had enough with each other.  It's easy to step on toes, make bad assumptions, or just stop caring about who you piss off when you're constantly running into someone.  But I'm reminding myself now that I need to remember how very lucky I am.  I have a job.  I'm healthy.  We live in a safe neighborhood, in a nice house, with hot water and cold ice and piles of warm blankets.  We're blessed to own our homes without the burden of a monthly mortgage payment.  We have insurance, safe & reliable cars and a full pantry.  I'm throwing a Tinkerbell birthday party tomorrow and I'm not worried about whether or not it's a luxury I can afford to spend on my favorite very active almost-three-year-old.

It's clear to me now, as I watch my employer start to make those cuts that just a few weeks ago they "didn't anticipate," that all of this could very easily go away.  Just a couple of years ago this would have kept me up at night, worrying about rent and student loans and a baby on the way.  Now, life has changed -- quite a lot actually -- and my perspective is a bit different.  But still I wonder:  What would we do?  

Buy a few chickens, I guess.

Wonder Years

Somehow, in a blink, my baby is gone.  I miss her to be sure, but my consolation is this wonder-filled little girl.  And oh my word -- do I love her.

She spent all night talking about Santa, asking if he would drive here, or if he would ride in our car, and if he would bring his bag.  And she would help him with his bag!  She would hold it for him!  And could he come to her birthday party?  And she would take her soft soft Tinkerbell blanket to the "Nerf Pole" so she could see him.  And why was he making toys?  And will it be Christmas after she takes a wiwwy good nap?

Many times over the last week I've found myself seeing Sara through my mom's eyes.  This isn't new.  It's overwhelming but nice, somehow allowing me to imagine that Mom really isn't missing out on these moments:  wide, shining eyes as her birthday cake is placed in front of her; eager anticipation of a visit from Santa; the tiniest bear hugs you can imagine and "I wuf you so so much."  Truly, I want to burst.

Sara is just now beginning to see the wonder in everything, and I am lucky enough to see it again too thanks to her.  Maybe this is why Mom loved Christmas so much -- an annual gift of wonder, the kind you only get from a child.  

Philly to Indy

Jeez, is that a long drive.  

I never thought I'd say it, but thank God for Dora.

It's good to be home.

A lot to be thankful for

I am very, very good at finding problems.  While this serves me well at work (because at least there I am also pretty good at finding solutions) it is more often than not a hindrance in real life.

But today is Thanksgiving day, and so in the spirit of the day here is a list, by no means exhaustive, of the things I am so very thankful for:

• Rob and Sara
• Nanci and CJ, Sharon, Tony, Kelli and Dani
• Mom and Dad, and everything (tangible and not) they left behind for us
• Grammy and her safe recovery
• Kathy, Skip, Trish, Ray, and Grampa Bill
• My family - all of them
• My community
• The generosity of friends
• My brother-in-law, alive and well in Iraq
• Watching Sara grow up and into herself
• The anticipation of Christmas
• Friends who never stray
• A stable job with a steady paycheck
  
• A safe place to live with a warm bed for sleeping
• Gardens, and all that they provide
• The promise of a finished home (some day at least!)
• Fond memories (like this, this, this, and this and this)
• Safe travels
• Second chances
• Third chances
• Good books
• The Good Book
• Grace enough
• Stories of survival (like this one)
• The blue and white plates hanging in my grandmother's dining room
• The first sip of coffee in the morning
• My cat Pete (the best cat ever)
• Our new fluffy warm blanket
• Pretty autumn days
• Catching the perfect picture of Sara
• Our new little tree
• Good health
• Love, love love

How about you?

Have I mentioned this site?

This one right here.

I have?

I see.  Well, obviously I still like it.

It's a small world after all (with apologies to my Disnophile friends)

As I mentioned in a previous post, I had the pleasure of spending a couple of unexpected hours with my aunt last Saturday. She has a lot to say.

During the course of her conversation she mentioned a trip she had taken to Scotland a few years ago, and while she was there she saw my cousin -- ironically named "Scott."

I haven't seen Scott, or either of his brothers, for years. Probably decades. They moved away from Indiana when we were young kids, then all scattered -- one to San Francisco, one to New York, and one to Scotland. Their parents divorced, their dad died, and given their very common last name I figured I'd never find them again.

But leave it to my old friend Google, and my new friend LinkedIn, to prove me wrong.

I sent him an inquiry last night through LinkedIn, just trying to determine if this was the same Scott ________ I was looking for. I don't know about anyone else, but I don't spend a lot of time on my LinkedIn account (probably because I'm not all that interested in being linked in) so I didn't figure I'd hear anything very soon, if at all.

Lo and behold, this morning there was a message in my inbox: "Hi, Cousin."

And I don't know why, but that makes me so happy.

Saturday morning post

Wait - what's that I hear?  

What?  Nothing?  I hear nothing?

Oh sweet heaven it's true.  I hear absolutely NOTHING!

Rob, Skip & Sara have taken a day trip to Chicago to see Skip's mom/Rob's grandmother/Sara's great-grandmother and I have the whoooole house to myself.  Well, me & the cats.

It's 9:00am and I have the whole day to look forward to.  Already I've slept in a bit (but just a bit, as I didn't want to waste my alone time), taken a shower, gotten dressed, and enjoyed my first cup of coffee in uninterrupted bliss.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.

Right now I'm doing some investigating on Cabela's and - lo & behold! - have found a $30 off promotion through my recent new fave, UPromise.  Christmas is coming and, well -- I have a Rob to shop for.  

I'm also enjoying a big bowl of oatmeal.  It is so tasty I'm going to tell you all about it:

Really tasty, rainy-fall-morning, seven-layer* oatmeal

*that's right, seven layers!

1.  Start some oatmeal.  I prefer steel-cut, which takes about 30 min, but right now all I have is plain-old rolled oats.  (Stay away from the instant stuff...  blech.)

2.  Get out a nice big bowl.  I have prepared the "heart healthy" serving size, which is, um -- sizeable.

3.  Add the following, not necessarily in this order, to your bowl:

Brown sugar (to taste - not too much!)

Cinnamon, a couple shakes

Coconut (yes, yes, a little tasty surprise in your bowl), about a tablespoon

Nuts -- I like pecans and walnuts, your choice; a little handful, crunched

Flax seed, about a tablespoon

Dried fruit -- right now I've got Sunsweet "antioxidant blend;" a little handful

The oats

4.  Add a little milk if you like and stir.  Delicious!

*********

Later, I plan on planting a terrarium.  Or, as it's known around our house, a "fairy garden."  We're all about the fairies these days.

*********

I got a haircut Thursday night and oh, oh, oh.  Do I feel better. 

*********

I thought I had something else to say but I guess I don't.  Enjoy your Saturday!

*********

Addendum:  So.  About thirty minutes after I signed off, my aunt arrived.  I had completely forgotten that she was going to be in town (she lives outside St. Louis) and wanted to see me and Sara.  I did indeed feel like a heel.  Also?  She's a talker.  Really.  I love her though.  But I'm glad I've been able to bookend that 2 hours with quiet.  Now, on to the terrarium...

*********

OK, so after lunch I totally fell asleep.  Then had unpleasant dreams about, well -- never mind.  They were unpleasant.  I guess I should go plant that terrarium.  This is not turning out to be the day I expected at all!  Maybe I can get them to go back to Chicago again TOMORROW...

Reclamation

So I'm wondering:

When will I be able to arrive at work without a newly-acquired stain on my shirt? You know -- one that's strategically located?

When will I be able to travel from point A to point B without looking like a pack mule?

When will I stop finding rocks, barrettes, and stickers in my pockets, on my pants, or in my shoes?

When will the 7:00am time outs be a thing of the past?

When will I no longer be excited about a new episode of Dora?

When will I be able to use the loo without an audience?


The answer:

All too soon. And I'll miss it when it's gone.

36 inches of peace

Mayhem and chaos.  These words are not too far off the mark when thinking about a typical day with Sara.  She brings both to the table.

I'm not saying this is all bad, mind you.  She is smart and funny, and every day she adds some new trick to the mix: suddenly unable to bear loud noises, like the toilet flushing or the mixer in the kitchen; answering questions with a very serious "yeth;" insisting on wearing oversized Tinkerbell jams to bed (every night); telling a joke; eating and eating and eating, til I am quite sure she will bust.  Or, eating nothing at all.

This is also quite exhausting on all fronts.  She is a whirlwind that requires constant chasing and a sensitive little soul whose heart requires constant tending.  She never - ever - stops talking, and requires constant conversation.  Sara's mind is always thinking, figuring, planning, analyzing.  Her world gets bigger by the minute -- and it's not ready for her, let me tell you.

So at the end of the day, when she grudgingly gives in to her little body's demands for rest, I'm always surprised to find the most wonderful thing:  36 inches of peace.  36 inches of warm, steady breaths on my cheek and soft small hands smoothing my hair.  36 inches of arms and legs kept warm in her favorite footie jams,  finally still.  36 inches of cozy, her body not too hot (like her father) or too foreign (like everyone else), but just right.  36 inches of innocence and promise and faith and hope and unconditional love.

36 inches that breaks my heart and makes my life, every single day.  

Sweet, silent, peace.

OK, but it's only 5 or so in dog years

A conversation with my nearly-three-year-old at lunch today:

"Mama, are you two?"

No.

"Are you five?"

No.

"What are you?"

Thirty-seven.

"Oh, right."

[pause]

"Firty-WHAT?!?"

Nice...

The Waiting Game, or Happy Birthday, CJ!

The following post was shamelessly copied & pasted from my other blog, which is supposed to chronicle the mad-cap events surrounding our much anticipated home renovation project.  SUPPOSED TO, I say.  Instead it has become a safe place for me to use all of the choice language that my mother never let me get away with.  Enjoy.

So, my brother asked me today why I haven't posted anything.

OK -- first?  My brother?  Reads this blog?  Who knew?  (Clearly not me.)

And to answer his question for the record:  Because there's just not a whole lot going on right now.

My father-in-law would certainly disagree and I mean him no disrespect.  He has been working on putting in the last of our replacement windows and putting up trim where he is able.  So yes, something has been going on.

But none of the BIG stuff is going on.  It seems that the city of Indianapolis, or the state of Indiana, or both, like to screw with their taxpayers by making them wait for weeks on end (weeks!  that's right, I said WEEKS!) to issue final permits.  I am so beyond over it that I don't know what to do, but there's not a hell of a lot I can do except curse about it.  And so I will.

Those #&^-d@#^ m(#*%^-f&#?^*$ really need to get off of their m(#*%^-f&#?ing a$$e$ so we can f&#?ing get on with this already, because this $%!t is really starting to p!$$ me the h@)) off.

Ah, I feel much better now.

No, no I don't.  Not really at all.

But there it is.  We wait while the chump from the IDEM decides to grace us with his* presence so we can actually start building what we've been dreaming about for over a year.  Perhaps if he realized we are sharing a room with a two-year-old, he might take mercy on us and put a move on it?

Nah, I don't think so either.

*And in the event that this chump is a woman, all of the above still stands -- because I am nothing if not an equal-opportunity p!$$ed off taxpayer.

Feeling blue

Indiana, for the first time in 44 years, has gone blue. And I’m not really all that surprised.

I’m glad this election is over. Like most people I’m tired of the campaign ads, tired of the talking heads, tired of the glad-handing and pandering and what-have-you. I was not an Obama supporter (though I did flirt with it for a time), but fully expected him to win so the outcome of yesterday’s election was more or less a formality for me.

Let’s just say I went to bed early.

More than anything, the campaign for this election left me disappointed. I am happy for -- and if I’m to be completely honest also a little jealous of -- Obama’s supporters. They were (are) real believers, and had a candidate who could (can) inspire. Obama is certainly charismatic, charming, engaging, even a little seductive. I wanted to believe, to get on the bandwagon because this is a guy who pulls you in and, somehow, gives you faith that he, unlike all the others before him, will deliver.

McCain? Not so much.

My friend Richard has said more than once that Obama is our generation’s Kennedy, and I suppose he’s right about that. It would have been nice to be a part of that kind of movement. (Then again I’m not a Kennedy fan either, so there you go.)

But in the end I just didn’t (don’t) buy what he was selling. I’m concerned about his agenda and where it will take us, even more concerned now that he appears to have the Congress firmly on his side – a Congress which proves, time & again, that they can’t always be trusted (no matter their political persuasion). He’s got his work cut out for him, to be sure, but right now the deck seems to be stacked in his favor.

Here’s hoping he’s the best thing to happen to this country.

And here’s hoping that four years from now I’ll have someone that I can believe in, too.

A useful web resource – and it’s nutritious, too!

Every couple of weeks or so I get something in my e-mail box from the National Gardening Association. I don’t remember when or why I signed up for the “Edible Landscaping” newsletter, and admittedly I usually delete it before I even open it. But not today! Looking for a mental break from my hum-drum administrative duties, I decided to check out the latest installment and guess what – it’s actually kind of interesting! And helpful! And accessible to the wanna-be proficient home gardener!

The only problem is now I really want to grow purple potatoes and start composting, but don’t think the contractor would appreciate it if I converted the dumpster into a compost bin, and I’m pretty sure the crew would trample my cold frame. So, maybe next year.

Anywho, check out http://www.garden.org/ if you’re interested. I know I’ll be visiting them from time to time while I whittle away the weeks until the seed catalogues arrive!

A stitch in time (saves nine, at least -- if you're into that sort of thing)

Some more sites I’ve stumbled across (don’t ask me how) that I think I kinda like:

http://www.ncnblog.com/
http://beingfrugal.net/
http://www.home-ec101.com/
http://getrichslowly.org/blog/

Also, while I’m all about growing and storing my own food (with exceptions as noted previously), I’m pretty sure that I’m not cut out for this or this* (though this, in it's exclusivity, really makes me wish I was). As much as I want to be the kind of person who can very contentedly pass the hours by whipping out new hand-made goods for her family… I just. Don’t. Think so.

Any experts out there willing to change my mind? Cause I’m open to it!

* Seriously? That first link scares me. And the second one... well, I could do without the hat. But that's just me.

IPromise, UPromise

So, I just signed up for UPromise today. I know, I know -- don't bring me down with your "drop in the bucket" mentality.

Catch enough drops and eventually you can put out a fire, right?

Anyway, I'll be able to put percentages of my purchases (online or in-store) directly toward my student loan. It's all set up so they talk to each other. My grocery store cards are hooked up, too. AND, I can ask my family to join so their purchases can help me, too. (Did you hear that, family?) :)

I mean seriously -- no matter how crunchy I become I'm going to need to shop at Target or eBay or CVS or Kroger. Because vegetables are one thing, but until my hamburger & chicken breasts start popping up out of the ground in nicely wrapped packages I'll leave the dirty work to someone else.

Go figure

So color me surprised, but it's five days later now and I'm still smitten with the idea of living a crunchier life.  I love stumbling across new resources that offer no-nonsense, easy, relatively painless ways to save.  Save what?  Time, money, stress, materials, myself -- whatever.

Also to my surprise I am not really missing being a chronic consumer.  Right now, the three of us are sharing a room of about 144 square feet.  Chewing up most of that space is one twin bed and one king size bed; our clothes, shoes, and bare essentials fill in the rest.  Yes, we have other things scattered here & there in my sister's house but we haven't even approached taking it over.  So what this means is that I can't really buy a lot of things - where on Earth would I put them?

This is amazingly freeing.

And, it's buying me time (hee hee) to make some considered decisions about what we will need to purchase when we move back home versus what we can just do without.  Or do differently.  On my list?

Putting up a clothes line.  

Garden planning.

Boning up on freezing & canning.

Learning to use my sewing machine.

  Repurposing a small dresser for Sara's night stand.

Planting another tree in the front yard for afternoon shade.

Mastering the art of bread-making.  

OK that last one has very little to do with being crunchy;  I'm just tired of making a lousy loaf of bread.

The point is that none of this is original and none of it is rocket science.  But it does take a little more effort on my part while requiring a little less convenience.  And that's OK.  I'm enjoying these little epiphanies and find that it's making ever-so-slight changes in my thinking.  Like instead of begrudging what I can't do because it's too expensive, I find myself thinking about what I can do instead that will be just as enjoyable and, probably, a lot more creative.

A year ago?  No, no.  Not so much.  The wallowing would have commenced immediately, followed closely by a fairly obnoxious period of martyr sydrome.  It ain't pretty, I know.

Anyway, there's no real point to my rambling here.  Just happy to report that, so far, this seems to be more than just a passing fancy.  I am pleasantly, hopefully surprised.

Go me!

Oddly enough, green was my mother's least-favorite color...

I don’t consider myself crunchy. In fact the word itself conjures up images of long, fly-away hair, Birkenstocks, jars of sprouts, and the distinct smell of doobie floating through the air. (Yes, yes, I know – I just described one of my aunts circa 1985. I’m happy to report that she now eats meat, refined sugar, and shaves. Don’t know about the doobie, so I’m opting to go Clinton on that one: don’t ask, don’t tell.)

But I’m beginning to realize that crunchy has come a long way, and while it still seems to be planted squarely in the realm of politically liberal ideology (Ed Begley Jr, anyone?), it’s becoming apparent to me that this Republican from the middle of the Bible belt is enchanted by it as well.

Evidently I’m late to the party on this, as Rod Dreher has written a whole book about crunchy conservatives entitled, appropriately enough, Crunchy Cons.* I haven’t read it so I can’t claim to be a true Crunchy Con myself, but the little bit that I did read here does seem to line up more or less with my own beliefs.

Anyway, this is not a political post.

What I’m discovering is that the ideas of reusing, repurposing, reinventing, growing, harvesting, storing, sharing, simplifying, saving – all of these are incredibly appealing to me. The choices I’ve made thus far in life might not tend to support this statement, but it’s true. And really, it’s not all that surprising. I can’t tell you how many things I’ve found in my parent’s house that have sparked an idea about how I could fix it, or change it, or display it, or whatever. I’ve done it before (those of you who helped move my grandmother’s painstakingly refinished ten-ton secretary in the middle of a monsoon can attest to this), and I am quite certain I’ll do it again.

Only this time, it seems to have a purpose.

Right now, on paper at least, we are worth more than ever before (in other words, we have a net value that is greater than zero -- a novel concept, no?). Whether it is the current economic situation, my ever-increasing understanding of responsibility for our daughter, or my overwhelming desire to chuck my day job & stay home to care for my family, I am feeling a tremendous need to preserve what we’ve got and make it last. Being in the throes of major – did I mention MAJOR? – renovations doesn’t do much to help the preservation effort.

BUT!

That doesn’t mean that I can’t continue, in whatever small way possible, to put what might appear to be cast-offs to good work once the construction is completed:

An old, rusted table base without a top? How about a “new” table to use in our herb garden, with a top fabricated with stone scraps from the renovation?

A ridiculously heavy and oversized wooden locker, covered in 60-year-old stained & disintegrating fabric? How about a reupholstered storage bench for the guest room?

A toilet & pedestal sink, unused & tucked under a staircase for the better part of the last 15 years? How about using them to outfit our new powder room? Really – it’s already new. Why replace them?

A bent and warped cold frame, that long ago lost it’s membrane to the elements? Yeah – we’re fixing that too. Because, in case it’s not already perfectly clear, we plan to garden our brains out next summer.

Canning party anyone? (Amy H, I’m talking to you!)

I could go on & on. There are so many things that we’ve forgotten we even have that I can find a use for – and I fully intend to do just that. Sites like this one only stoke my fire. The best thing is that I like doing this. I enjoy finding creative uses for “trash,” cleaning things up and giving them new life & having people say “That is so neat – where did you get that?”

So if that makes me crunchy, then I guess I am.

Bring on the granola!

*Thanks, Amy for mentioning this to me. I'll have to add it to my never-ending list of things I'd like to read once I have a house to read them in.

October

O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes' sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost-- For the grapes' sake along the wall. --Robert Frost (With sincere thanks to Amanda Soule, who reminded me that I love Robert Frost)

This story reminded me why I still love Indiana, even with all of it’s faults.

How many places can you go where, just 30 minutes outside the state capital, you can visit the FFA pumpkin patch? (What’s the FFA you ask? Future Farmers of America, of course.)

How many public school systems still have agriculture teachers?

How many high schoolers use their savings to buy rabbits, calves, pigs & goats? And then allow them to be part of a petting zoo for little ones?

How many times do you get to hear a grown man say “I’d like them to do it forever and ever?”

I know, I know. It’s all kind of hokey. But give me hokey any day if it means reminders about what really matters: working together, working hard, and enjoying what you do.

Hokey, but refreshing.

Welcome to the asylum

Seriously. The child ought to be dead tired, with all of the extra activities she's had the last couple of days. But oooohhhh noooooo, she was up and unstoppable at "six-oh-freakin-two" today (timekeeping courtesy of Rob). And then this was her for the better part of the morning:

Naked, save for the infant-sized fleecy jester hat which she insisted on wearing because she was "wiwwy COLD."

Well no kidding.

I was just happy that the cats weren't being terrorized and my laptop wasn't being used as a trampoline.

Peniel

I'm spending some time these days hashing things out. Mostly with myself, I think, but probably just as much with God. Or maybe, God is hashing things out with me.

I have some decisions to make and making them will commit me to living life one way or another. I have reservations about both of my choices and wish I could have it both ways -- but that is the one thing I cannot have. Both options scare me. But to be perfectly honest, there is only one right path, I'm just afraid to chose it. (I'm more afraid not to.)

This is the conversation I find myself wrapped up in during those brief, scattered moments when I'm not asked to be Mama or wife or sister or therapist or friend. When it's just me and God, over and over again I am led to the same questions and fears and regrets and hopes. I spend so much time asking "why," bargaining with "what ifs," and kicking myself with "if onlys" that I don't generally shut up and listen. This is hard for me on a good day, when I've got someone sitting in front of me -- trying to do it with God? For crying out loud. It's nearly impossible. And (of course!) it's the one thing I really need to do.

So shut up already and listen, goose. Sheesh.

I was reminded today of the story of Jacob wrestling with God and it really resonated with me. I actually wish it didn't; I'd rather get through this without all the wrestling, thank you very much. But the good news, if I'm in the mood to look for it (and I am), is that in the end God blesses Jacob and tells him that he has overcome. I can only hope for the same.

The demo is underway!

You should check out this link for the visual play-by-play, but if you just want a quick hit, here's the scene at 6249 these days!
(Isn't that the sexiest dumpster you've ever seen??)