After our workday...

Much housecleaning completed today.  Moving furniture, dusting to an extent that was sad, or ridiculous.  Emptied out the vacuum cleaner numerous times.  Not the best vacuum, hence the constant emptying, but it all got done.  Tomorrow will get out Autumn wreaths and finish up a couple of minor things.  Like the ceiling fans which I'll postpone cleaning until absolutely necessary.  Keep the things spinning and no problem. :)

But a good day.  Made Diane's recipe for Tomato Tart and had salad with my friend Tina's recipe for dressing (lime juice, olive oil and tarmari sauce).  Delish.

* * *

Now we're waiting to hear from a friend of middle daughter's who's seeing if there are spots on Thursday night for she and I to help at tobyMac's concert here.  If they still need help, we can get in free.  

* * *

The girls and I go to the Owl City concert out-of-town next week.  Was doing research tonight on parking, etc.  Saw something on the place's website about age restrictions.  It's at a venue that has a bar, and sometimes 18+ or 21+ shows.  After holding our breath for a few minutes, we found that this concert is considered ALL AGES, so shouldn't be any problem with my teenage girls getting in.  Can you imagine, though?  Go on a trip, get there and be refused?  That'd be horrible.  But it sounds as if we're good.  I wrote the General Manager an email tonight to double-check.  Pays to be careful.

* * *

Funny thing.  Last night my husband said something I never thought I'd hear pass his lips.  

"Hey Baby, you're really rockin' that gray hair."  

Good grief.  But in a good way.

Monday afternoon

Seems since the wedding earlier in the month, our house has been crying to itself.  Dust me.  Sweep my floors.  Vacuum up the dog hair.  Re-arrange the furniture.  Please.

Okay, I hear you.  Tomorrow's the day.  Would've been today but after schoolwork was finished, we went to the store to get dinner for tonight and tomorrow night.  Tired.  I get so weary, so fast, and it doesn't pay to do too much.

* * *

Had planned on getting Mom's groceries today, as is our routine, but she called me this morning and said her money was low (over $500.00 in the bank but it's low to her) and while her SS check will be here on Friday, she says she just can't seem to afford any food now.  She has little notebooks on her side table from years back and they have daily tallies of her bank balance.  Even now she calls the bank twice a day to check it.  I'm thinking this is an obsession.

Pulling out hair.

I told her she'd not go broke, but she can't get her head around that fact.  I talked and I talked, trying to reason with her, but she can't understand.  Her bills are paid, no unexpected things are coming out, but still, she feels on edge.  I get it as best as I can.  She can't control anything since her stroke, so if she can control spending, that's something, I guess.

The thing is, she'll really not eat if she's feeling like she's going into the poor house.  I've even asked her about this (you heard this same story a couple of months ago) idea of not eating, and she denies it.  Says she'll eat.  But here's the thing:  I can't get back to the store until Thursday, so while this might sound like I'm trying to teach her a lesson, there is a reason we go on Mondays.  There is life to be lived here, and the days and sometimes nights are busy.  Bet she'll be real hungry come Thursday.  Kidding.  She has food, just not as much as I like to see in her house.

Caring for an aged parent is hard, hard, hard.  

Tomorrow is a home day.  Cleaning, both physical and in the mental realm.  Can't tote my mom around in my head too long or I'll go nuts.  I was all shaky after talking to her, just a drain, but we just do the best we can.  My best isn't probably someone else's best, but what can I say?

The least one is our chef tonight.  She's got a dab hand with baking, but never makes the main meal.  She picked out Enchilada Soup from my Cooking Pinterest board, and so will leave now to put on the chicken for her.  Then, it's up to her. :)

About Fear...

"A healthy response to fear is to give attention to it but not to surrender control.

Don't let fear keep you from crossing the threshold or stepping off the drop-off into what God has in store for you....you will not be consumed.  God will rescue you and set your feet on solid ground.

But he is also standing closer than you'd ever imagine.  

God is standing right there with you at the edge of the drop-off, holding out his hand to you, and he's practically bursting with the excitement of taking you with him.

...leave fear right there on the threshold.

We have been conditioned to believe God is the one who plays it safe.  

We have convinced ourselves it's best to get out of this life and into heaven by taking as few risks as possible.  We have tightened our seat belts and worn our helmets and washed our hands until they are raw.  We have filtered our air and our water and our perspective, and we have let the fear of what might go wrong lead us down the path of insignificance."

All quotes from Deidra Rigg's book called Every Little Thing.

Altar Guild Clown

Sometimes I think I'm put into certain situations to provide a level playing field.  And not to sound self-deprecating, but being overly particular just isn't my style.  I know how things should be done in ordinary life, but clearly I have issues with being on the Altar Guild.  Or the women on it have issues with me.  Goodness.

Today we had a working lunch, I guess you could call it.  With two women moving away, there are now only four of us to do the altar, and I'm still new and continue to have a steep learning curve.  Why do they put up with me?  Answer:  There aren't many folks doing this chore.

Called to task in that passive-aggressive manner Southerners are famous for----don't tell the person to their face, but to the group at large.  Seriously?  This time the brass vases for the flowers are showing some wear and need polishing.  Okay.  But nobody polishes anything.  Why would I even think of it?  Silver chalices sometimes have fingerprints on them.  Finger pointing (sorry for the pun) at the new guy.  I'm the only one at fault, apparently.  And considering I only hold the clean silver after it's dry with cotton cloth, it's baffling.  Also, two different cloths are used on the altar for wiping/serving but did anyone tell me?  No, but I'm supposed to know this.  You're talking to a Presbyterian here.  I've been selecting the cloths based on which embroidery I like best, but okay, I'll be the fall guy.  Eye roll.

* * *

The Reformation makes such sense.  Get rid of the frills and preach the Gospel.  I get it, but I do love the bells, whistles, and incense.  Yet it comes at a cost, that is, if you're going to be involved in the set-up.

As to the minute fingerprints, wipe them off, and move along, little dogie.

Grace, so important when folks focus too much on the non-essentials.

 I bared my soul to my husband after the lunch, and after I heard his sensible advice, I was good. Said it reminds him of the Orthodox Jews.  Legalism, plain and simple.  But let's get upset about real stuff, not cleaning.  I will try to do better, but again I say, lighten up.

Personally I believe the Lord has put me in this position for a purpose.  I really don't want to be so picky that I miss the big picture.  One woman gets her knickers in a twist when I do the flowers in the main sink we have and afterward have to wash the altar pieces in the same sink.  It's necessary.  (She's sort of a bacteria nazi.) Only place to do it.  She'd have me do the flowers in the bathroom, which is NOT going to happen.  Please.  I mean really.  Please.

Again, Grace.

* * *

Perfect example of how I roll...just found a fresh chicken egg in my shirt pocket, from having picked it up when I bedded the hens a couple of hours ago.  Forgot all about it.  Not unusual for me to carry around a couple, and accidentally have them break while they're in there.  See what these Altar Guild women have to work with?  Clearly God has a sense of humor.

(replaying tobyMac's song Til the Day I Die and Tenth Avenue North's Stay on Spotify)

Home Sweet Home

Before dinner my husband drove me to the church so I could set up Communion and do the flowers.  We were there for awhile----he gave the church inside a look-over, since that's his position now...Property Manager, unpaid, but hopefully will turn into a lucrative possibility in time.  The point is, he has a key.

Remember when I took the kids alone and he wasn't too keen on the Anglican thing?  Well, he's still a Presbyterian at heart, but chooses to be with us.  God is so cool.

Moving on.

We were there for a bit, things were left tidy and we came home.  To our messy, colorful and full house.  And it was wonderful.  The girls were in the kitchen making tea, the fall-colored twinkle lights were on in the living room, the dish drainer was full to brimming, the chicken was cooking and we walked into laughter and dogs barking.  

Contrast.  The church left in order compared to the noise and color at home.  It was sweet.

Friday noon

Just three of us here at home, just now.  Oldest daughter has broken her work fast (quit her job to rest in late January), and is working part/part-time at a little bookstore across the way from my husband's shop.  So, she's working a couple or three afternoons a week, building up herself again.  Her dry eye syndrome is still a concern, and she still can't wear her contacts, so is taking it slow.  Healing takes time, and we've got plenty of that.

Right now I'm having my own quiet.  In bed, window open, just hung out sheets, can hear one of our numerous wind chimes near my window.  Chickens making soft noises.  A good sheet-drying day with plenty of sunshine and warmth.  Windows up.  Washer spinning.  Thinking about having a restful weekend without drama.

There are things to do, however.  Flower-buying tomorrow for the altar, and setting up the same.  Filling in for someone else.  And after church on Sunday, will eat lunch with our priest's wife who heads up the Altar Guild along with a couple of other women.  One is our church secretary, who is Roman Catholic, so has her own spin on setting up the things and using the linens.  I feel so Mitford-like.  Our church is going to re-vamp the Altar Guild book, which I wasn't even aware of being in existence (but which could've prevented my endless mess-ups).  Thankfully, my altar learning curve is lessening, but still, I set the wine/wafers/silver up and still just stand there, scratching my head, checking my photos on my phone, hoping I've finally got it right.  Actually, I think I do.

* * *

Have a new review cookbook on its way.  The publisher likens her book to Laurie Colwin's Home Cooking, and since I'm partial to her food writing (though not her fiction, for some odd reason), am looking forward to reading it.  This one is called The Homemade Kitchen by Alana Chernila.  Will let you know.  Pulled out my copy of Orangette's Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life too.  With our dinner being so stupendous last night, am hoping to do more of the same this weekend.  Good eats, you know.

This is what we had:  My saucy friend, Diane, made a knock-off version of Olive Garden's Zuppo Toscano here.  I just took her recipe, incorporated it with our priest's wife's recipe and with minor changes, we had dinner!

My version:

One pound of Italian Sausage.  I made mini meatballs of the meat, just (pardon the term) squirting the sausage out of the end of the soft casings.  Fried them in a skillet with a little butter in it.

In another skillet I browned until soft a chopped onion, three celery stalks, and three small carrots.

When the sausage was done, or almost done, I put everything in my cast iron pot.  Added two Knorr Chicken bouillon cubes and water to cover.  Also sprinkled in about 1/2 teaspoon of both Oregano and Thyme.  No salt, which afterward surprised me, since the bouillon was salty enough.  Also put in two cans (rinsed, since middle daughter has an aversion to bean juice....who knows?) of Cannellini beans (white kidneys) and a few small, chopped up red potatoes.

Last thing...I added a bit bunch of chopped fresh Kale toward the end of cooking.  Diane adds cream to hers, which is probably a wonderful last touch, but I didn't do that.  I'm jealous of my half &half in my tea, so tend to parcel it out stingily.

Now to beat that meal, which might be a challenge.  I think I'm waking up from a bad dream.  Haven't taken an interest in fussing over meals in a long time.  My dear friend, Tina, gave us some family silver recently, and we used the glamourous soup spoons with our meal.  

All of this talk makes me want to watch Julie and Julia again. :)  Love the way Julie's husband eats in that movie.  Just nom-nomming his way through all that she cooks.

Must go.  Just-married-son is on his way to wash clothes.  First time of him doing that, but works for me.

Short post

Reading Deidra Rigg's book called Every Little Thing to review.  A life-changer for me.  All about releasing yourself to the Lord, knowing He's holding on even when life seems unbearable.  He is sufficient.

 And listening to tobyMac's song Til the Day I Die.

Will post more about this book, with quotes that jump out at me, but it's late now.  It'll have to wait.  Not meaning to possibly sound cryptic.  Nothing's new, just always life to swim through.  And until my wayward children surrender to the Creator, this is the way of it.  For now I pray and work on my own acceptance of all the stuff.  Yeah, it's, pretty much, a daily exercise.

But through it all, I raise my hands and praise His Name.  Truly.

Take care.

And off he goes...

Second son left for California this afternoon, and should arrive (our time) in a bit over an hour.  Had an excellent visit, very healing for the children here at home.  The girls especially needed to be around a brother who seeks the Lord's will for his life.  This kid's a blessing and makes us very proud.  Talk about having his head screwed on straight, my goodness.

Glad I got this shot of him, unexpected and un-posed since he was just waiting on the other side of the driveway for his sister to move her car and his dad to get the van backed up to load.  He stood there, I clicked and there you have it.  New beard and moustache.  Lookin' good.  

Such a motley crew my children.  A variety with a bit of everything.  Literally.  

Guess it's a balance.

Anyway, showed you the rest of my tribe with the wedding (since taken down) of the wedding, and this one was missing.

And, yes, I cried here at home after we came back from the airport.  I know you understand, those with children out of town.

'apartment therapy complete + happy home'

Awesome.  One word to describe the newest Apartment Therapy book.  From moving into a new place (not necessarily an apartment or flat), including making a checklist for that move, considering traffic patterns for placing furniture, decorating styles, paint colors, window treatments, selecting art for your home, special bits on particular rooms in your home, gardening ideas, entertaining, and monthly ideas for keeping your home special and in good fettle.

apartment therapy complete + happy home is such a beautiful book.  The photographs are bright and happy, and the whole feeling of the book is upbeat and engaging.  There's a quote from Terence Conran in the Introduction which comes from his famous 'The House Book', which I received as a gift about 30 years ago.  This book is the perfect compliment to Conran's.  Beautiful.

For anyone who's a newlywed, or intending on buying a new house, even for those of us in neither of those categories, this is a wonderful book.  Just wonderful.  What a perfect title too.

More information can be found at their website, including photos from the book:  http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/books/complete-happy

(i received this book free to review from blogging for books)

'The One Year Home & Garden Devotions'

Sandra Byrd's book The One Year Home & Garden Devotions is an encouragement.  She shares daily stories, adds a Scripture at the endings and gives a glimpse of her family life.  It's light and sweet, maybe more so than what I'm used to, but will speak women who feel stretched for time in fitting in a devotion.  In a few minutes time you can find a focus, a bit of guidance, and refreshment.  In addition she shares recipes from time time along with gardening tips.  A little bit of everything related to home.

This might sound foolish, but Sandra just seems like such a likable person.  Her book is engaging and uplifting, and her website (sandrabyrd.com) offers more of the same.  She has links to her Pinterest page as well that links to her books.  Being very visual, I enjoyed looking at the photos she saved to pair with her book.  

For any mom or woman at home who wants a bit of Godly leading in the morning, this might be the book for you.

(i received this book free to review from tyndale)

Ordinary days

After the early morning busyness and activity with the chickens, now comes the lull.  They've been fed, allowed to run about a bit, and are now back safe in their run and feasting on warmed-up, leftover macaroni.  Hugged and and loved on.  Seems they're satisfied for awhile.  It appears.

Sort of like humans.  Keep us fed, kept warm when it's chilly, secure when danger lurks, show some affection and we're good for another stretch of time.  It appears.

This day is free from obvious anxiety.  Have to re-write some forms for school.  I tried to reuse last years, scratching through the old date, but they were sent back.  This is what happens when your printer runs out of ink, you have no funds to buy more cartridges and try to recycle.  Sometimes it isn't the best idea.  So, today will fill in the current forms I was mailed and try again.  The girls laugh.  Every year when filling out homeschool forms I hit a snag.  Wait for it.  It is a never fail situation.  Least I'm consistent. 

And second son flies back to California later today.  He bought a rifle while he was here, and is borrowing my husband's lock-up case to fly it back.  Should pass through security just fine.  He goes to Portland, a city he says is gorgeous, and then his chef will pick him up and they'll drive back to the retreat.  He'll be there through Thanksgiving, which we regret, but he's living the life the Lord has set out for him, so who can really complain?

Today should be low-key except for his drop-off at the airport.  School, writing a couple of notes to folks at church, helping do the front yard, making chicken salad for dinner/yeast rolls.  We bought Mom's groceries yesterday and dropped them off, did a quick go through of her house, so she's all set for a few days.  

See how mundane life is?  Isn't it grand?  No drama.  Issues to pray about, yes, but nothing too difficult to manage in my head.  I think a break from new difficulties is mighty refreshing.

Monday morning

Woke up around 6:30am to take care of chickens and made my tea to have outside with them.  The city was just waking up, and traffic on our street hadn't taken hold yet.  Birds.  The last sounds of the crickets. Heavy dew on the grass.

Slowly the earth woke up.  Trafficky sounds.  Blue Jays squawking.  Lots of Sparrows, who come in droves to eat chicken feed.

It's a bit chilly today.  I wore my nightclothes out back and in a few minutes, after eating some bugs and such, Nora hopped up into my lap.  Snuggled down into my robe.  Milk followed a bit later.  Love watching their eyelids as they blink---backwards, with the main eyelid going up from the bottom, opposite of humans.  Their pupils dilate as they watch me watch them.

* * *

Wanting to take more charge this week.  Seems sometimes my life runs on its own speed, and I have little ability to manage it.  It manages me.  I've said this before, but it appears I tend to react to what's been placed in front of me, rather than initiating change.  I adapt probably way too well.  Have had to, first with so many children being born one after another, and also with our financial situation.  Figured I could either buck the situation or go with it.  Sort of weary of the flow, if you get what I mean.  Ready to change the river's route, so to speak.

You know, life has to be about making it work regardless of the messes.  I find that hard.  I want to have a re-do and clean up ahead of time the trials our children have forced on us.  To be warned beforehand that those delightful photos of the family when everyone was young and unlined were real, but now is real as well.  Not my favorite real, but nonetheless, it's my deck of cards.

Still, when I look at a blog of a mother holding fresh, young children I feel a catch in my throat.  I might always have that catch.  I want to tell that mom to hold onto that precious time with their young ones.  Relish it.  Breathe in the scent of that sweet neck.  Danger ahead.  You think it's hard waking up to a baby with a frighteningly high temperature---wait until they discover the world is bigger than you've shared.  They might like that big, dangerous world.  Well, we might never see the results of our hard prayers, but then again, it might happen.  Keep plugging along.  Be thankful for my tribe here.  For seeing Christ's work in my children at home.  See His work in their faces and their words.  I guess it's all a process.

But I only have to deal with today.  This moment is blessed.  Enjoy yours.

Paying mind...

My husband continues to surprise me.  Being that he was raised in a more fundamental and conservative home (reformed Presbyterian/Southern Baptist) than I was (my folks were Methodist, though my mom sprinkled our household with some Pentecostal beliefs), he tends to not be too awfully vocal about his faith.  He'll witness freely to folks who come into his shop when the opportunity is appropriate, but to speak of angels or spiritual attack is a new thing with him.  These past few months very common talk in our house.  We know what we're talking about.

Today we were visited by thieves in our front yard while we were at church.  Now, I admit we have lots of stuff in our yard, but it's not that much, well, not much anymore.  Plants, a few ornamental things, decorative.  But you'd think they were all far enough from the curb that folks would keep their mitts off.  Well, no.

Some of you've heard this earlier today since I griped on FB.  Sympathy feels good.

Anyway, after dinner Gary said we needed to keep on our toes.  We've become lax in our prayers for protection, and even if you think lightly about our experience today, it's one in a series of contacts today.  A man-off-the-street got belligerent with him before services at church.  He was determined to talk to our priest, but Gary prevented him from disrupting things.  (And as I've mentioned before, yes, my husband and a couple of other members do come armed to church services.  Just because of this sort of occurrence.) Another person confronted him on our porch this afternoon, fabricating a wild story, wanting a handout.  Strange situations.  Out of the blue.  In our faces.  

"Seeking whom he may devour."

Stay prayed up.  The signs of intrusion are there, and we've prayed.  Been here before when the dark side has sidled up beside us.  

Stay on your spiritual toes.  As we become lax, the enemy becomes aware.  As our military son says, "Boots on the ground."

Just feeding the addiction...

Haul from library bookstore yesterday.  Could've bought more Faulkner, but wanted to leave some for others.  You know.  No sense in being greedy.

The Macrina Wiederkehr book called A Tree Full of Angels was one I was proud to find and at a dollar.  She has a light way of writing---very hopeful (which, just now, I see she uses to describe her work on her blog), at least that's how this one comes across.  Her book Seven Sacred Pauses was one I tried to buy awhile back, but the sale didn't go through, and I didn't try again.  For that reason I have nothing to base an opinion on.  Hope I like it.

The Vanity Fair is a Modern Library copy, a book I've never read, but it was so pretty, and with a dust jacket.  Again, a buck.  We've enlarged our classics library here at home by such a degree, we snap up any tried and true classic we can find.  

As to The Epic of Gilgamish, if you teach Abeka History, you've heard mention of it in their World History books.  Supposedly the oldest piece of literature save the Bible.  Worth having, I think.  Had a laugh when second son handed it to me at the bookstore, just having read about it on Thursday in middle daughter's schoolbook.

And Sara Midda....sweet one.  I have an old copy of her Book of Days, and this one charmed me into getting it.  I'd already checked out and saw it at the register as our son was paying for his books.  He got it for me and I returned the favor by buying him a package of Oreos at the store later on.  Fair trade, I do believe. 

 The Faulkners go without saying.  A dear stash all the way around.

Saturday morning

Nothing hanging fire....I don't think.  

Chickens are out in the backyard, free-ranging.  Their coop area is large enough for the four of them (about 20x40'), but they've eaten every green leaf and bug in there.  Most mornings after we've let them out of the coop, they eat breakfast, scrounge around, then begin to make loud and unappealing noises until we let them out into the main yard.  So annoying.  They are so spoiled.

This morning I got up at 6;30, let them out and then got my tea.  Ate breakfast back with them, allowed them to be out and about for an hour and coaxed them back in their yard.  Thirty minutes later they're making racket.  

I'm such a push-over.  Out they go again and remain there now.

Can't blame them.  They just want their greens.  Thankfully we have some to spare, but if we let them free-range all day, we'd have a dirt backyard.

And so it goes with my dear little chickens.

* * *

Rest of the day will have to figure out dinner, go (alone?) to the library bookstore and just chill.  Have already set up the altar for tomorrow, so my church chores are done.  The day is pretty free and clear.  Maybe someone else will offer to cook dinner.  Will work it into the conversation. :)

Friday morning

Continual mild headache this week.  Thinking I'll take the weekend off from thinking of troubling things.  Had begun to ponder Thanksgiving, not surprising with it two months away.  The cooler temperatures encourage these thoughts.  Husband said we'll not have the wayward boys over for Thanksgiving dinner.  I think my heart broke a little bit when he said that.  Not that these particular sons would want to come over, but the reality of being told was upsetting.  Shared with the younger girls and all they could say was (and with enthusiasm) a hearty yes.  If I remember last year's Christmas photos, when stuff was still in the pre-hit the fan mode, I'll admit the kids who live here at home looked a bit shell-shocked.  And the hard news wasn't even known yet.  Son-who-just-got-married had moved in with his girlfriend and had wrung out our emotions in a constant stream for about two years.  We'd had enough.  Or thought we had.  Well we had, just didn't realize more was on the way.  Three knucklehead sons.  More than enough.

A mom's heart is so fragile at times.  Told Gary it was hard to think about the holidays and he agreed.  The Lord quietly told me to follow my husband in this.  To honor his wishes, realizing in my heart that he's right.  Doesn't make it any easier

Back to the weekend.

I've been worrying things a little too hard, not sure why, but need a restoring couple of days.  The girls and I hit the math and history pretty good yesterday, so might just do the Prayer Book readings, along with our Jane Eyre today.  Wonderful read-aloud.  Then buy some meat for stew, milk, and a couple of other things.  Wait for a check to hit before buying for the weekend.  

I require a quiet day.  I yearn for it.  Crave it.

Wednesday night

Long day.  Had the van after taking my woodboy to the shop.  Errands with my offspring, including a trip to the library---always a good thing.

But did too much.  This darned Adrenal Fatigue smacks me down when I get too busy.  Rest was welcome this afternoon.

After dinner, sat on the porch and watched the two pair of Hummingbirds who visit our two feeders.  My goodness, they're like little Tinkerbells. Vicious, but cute.

Anyway, tomorrow's a home day, like most days.  After an especially busy time away from the house, actually being here is all the more appealing.  I'm here all the time, but take it away from me for one, single day and I'm begging for a day at home.  It's safe and quiet.  Restoring.

Time for bed.  More Faulkner and the open window with the fan blowing.  Tomorrow sitting with the chickens.  Potato soup with homemade bread for dinner.  School with the girls and our Jane Eyre.  All is well.

Tuesday morning

Yesterday I received an Interior Design book in the mail to review.  From the Apartment Therapy folks.  Beautiful.  Reminds me of my roots.  Degree in same subject way back in college.  Years previous to that filling notebooks with cutouts of rooms I adored, years since with gluing photos into journals, re-decorating our home, collecting magazines, etc.  Living in clutter.  My form of clutter.

Mothering has put certain things on the back burner.  I sort of admire women who can juggle children, and find time to do the things that inspire passion in them.  Privately think they were blessed with some sort of DNA I'm missing. I tend to have, pretty much, a one-track mind---oh, I can make dinner, read a book and answer the phone.  Simple tasks.  But things that require much mind work will demand a one-track mind.  Time set aside.

Segue.

I have a point, though.

Recently we were inundated with a fly invasion.  Had a problem of another sort in the crawl space under our house, and dealing with that led to the flies.  One day last week our kitchen window (thankfully closed) was full of flies.  Not pretty.  Actually, disgusting.  Anyway, now they're all gone (well, let's say they found a way out or are dead) and the previous problem is resolved as well.  Nature has a pretty cool way of managing, uh, nature.

So, second son who's still visiting is tall.  Like 6'-5".  This comes in handy when I can't raise the kitchen window.  I just couldn't get purchase on it.  No matter if I slung my leg up on the counter, used a screwdriver to wedge under the window handle or whatever.  I think it had swollen and just wouldn't budge.  Second son raised it and there were flies in all their glory inside the ledge.  Oldest daughter stood there for moral support, handed me the Mrs. Meyer's lavender spray while I cleaned out the window with a hand full of paper napkins.  Repeatedly.  After a minute or so of doing this, which didn't take long, she commented that it was restful to watch me clean it up.  Said it was calming.  Huh.  

Maybe I was deliberate.  I know I wasn't hurrying, just doing a task, but maybe I was actually doing it right.  Being mindful.  

That's the thing.  Paying attention to the little things.  Being present and not making a mad dash even at minor tasks.  

More and more I'm seeing folks with dazed expressions on their faces.  Engaging in conversations with people out in the world is getting more difficult.  The younger generation finding it more of a challenge to connect.  Reminds me of the Stepford Wives.  Cardboard cut-outs of humans.  I think we can thank too much technology for this tragic phenomena.  Begin to talk, get interrupted with those surreptitious peeks at the phone.  Won't abide it with my living-away-from-home children, but see it frequently at church.  And it's not just the younger folks.  A new regular (my age) visitor at our church has joined the choir and got privately reprimanded for playing Candy Crush during Communion.  Really?  Are we so addicted to the wrong behavior?

Connecting.  Engaging with life.  Stopping long enough to really pay attention.  Living your life.  Not allowing nonsense to overpower real life. 

So this flips back to my enjoyment of decorating, what I was trained to do, but which has gotten lost in the muddle of my middle years.  Now I appear to be waking up, taking life a bit more slowly and really, enjoying it more.  It just takes the time to take the time.  Dwell on that for a bit.

And enjoy your day.

Loving Faulkner

The time period is 1919 in Mississippi.   Blacks still living with/working for the families who owned them during the Civil War.  Simon is one of those people.

Love this quote from Wm Faulkner's book Sartoris:

A number of motor cars ranked along the curb lent a formally festive air to the place, and Simon with his tilted cigar stub wheeled up and drew rein and indulged in a brief, colorful altercation with a negro sitting at the wheel of a car parked before the hitching-block.  "Don't block off no Sartoris ca'iage, black boy," Simon concluded when the other had moved the motor and permitted him access to the post.  "Block off de commonality, ef you wants, but don't intervoke no equipage waitin' on Cunnel or Miss Jenny.  Dey won't stan' fer it."

Classic Faulkner.

And on Wednesday night

Passed through the living room just now.  Kissed visiting second son on top of the head (he and youngest son were eating---again) and told him he'd brought JOY into the house.  And he has.  (Glad we'll have him for two weeks.)  His presence has settled our oldest daughter, who's taken on too much mental responsibility here lately.  She can breathe.  He's so well-grounded, in love with the Lord and a pleasure to be around.

How wonderful to be a bearer of such goodwill.  

The mood of the house is peaceful.  

* * * 

And funny thing.  I took the kids to Mom's and then to the grocery store this afternoon and I told them I felt as if the scales are falling off of my eyes.  I'm seeing life again.  Waking up.  

What is it about stress that puts blinders in front of our faces?  Covers up beauty and pushes our faces into the dust.  

Resting quietly.

(listening to tobyMac's newest CD This is Not a Test, and Jeremy Camp's song He Knows)

Wednesday morning

Woke up again feeling rested inside.  Supposed to begin to rain sometime soon.  It'll be cool enough this weekend to turn off the a/c as well.  Looking forward to that.  Rain always soothes my spirit.

And let me just say.  Making the decision to not color my hair anymore is a game changer.  One less thing on the to-do list.  Deciding to let it go.  Seeing the grey and not shying away from it is a bit empowering.  Not hiding who I am, and let me tell you, this grey isn't shy.  For me, there's been too much to do for too long a time.  Not doing a thing is amazing.  A year ago I wouldn't have entertained this for a second, but just having my husband pester me about avoiding chemicals on my hair got me to thinking.  I'm a bit excited about this new journey.

* * *

He and I had a wonderful conversation last night about stuff.  Being emotionally hi-jacked.  Said we'd maybe begin to respond a bit more enthusiastically to nonsense.  Bring out the no answer a bit quicker.  Feel less victimized.  Tuck into humor.  Maybe resort to, "You have got to be kidding," as a common reaction, rather than shock, which sort of gives the dark side a bit of an advantage.  Might work.  See the incredulous expressions on our waywards when they come up with topics our wee minds aren't prepared to deal with.  

Live our lives and not our children's.  Can I hear an Amen?

* * *

Must get out later.  Buy dry-erase markers for school, get ingredients for favorite dinner of visiting second son (Taco Soup), and deliver my mom's groceries we got on Monday night.  Cleaning up her house a bit.  Nothing too strenuous.

Today is good.  Cloudy.  A tad cooler, but not enough for windows up yet.  Rest.  Recovery.  Sounds perfect.

Tuesday after Labor Day

School will have a late beginning this morning, but all is well.  Second son is asleep on the sofa in the living room---the pass-through room for the whole house.  We're being quiet.  A slow beginning to the day.  The pugs lay 'round about him, and even Romeo, the male dominant, is being sweet.  He's all slung out in front of the sofa---keeping guard.  They seemed to remember him when he came into the house yesterday morning, after we picked him up from the airport.  Four months is a long time, but apparently not long in a dog's mind.  Romeo has a short attention span, so this is miraculous.  The pugs are all about laps, so acceptance is easy for them.

This son went to Powell's bookstore in Portland, before they boarded the plane on Sunday night.  He bought me a used copy of Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross.  He knows my tendency to enjoy Catholic writing.  Said they had a huge section of it.  Amazing bookstore and yes, I'm jealous he got to go there.  A wonderland of books, I hear.

Right now, I'm still in bed, just enjoying the blessing of this son at home.  We've deeply missed him.  He's so sane and well-grounded in the Lord.  We can be ourselves when he's here.  He gets it.  All of it.

* * *

Really feeling this new week is the start of good things.  Fresh starts.  Cooler weather up ahead, even tomorrow.  Rain coming.  Less drama.  Quiet days.  Pumpkin candles.  Sweeping porches of fallen leaves.  Simmering stews.  Letters to be written.  Fall-ish things.  Anticipation.  I do love autumn.

The ability to exhale after so many months of frustration and ultra-busyness is amazing.  Now to watch the Lord begin His work of healing our spirits.

Enjoy your day.

Labor Day

Your comments are so sweet.  Thanks very, very much.  

* * *

Today is the letting down sort of day.  Tired, especially after having a busy service at church yesterday with the Bishop there and a Confirmation.  Luncheon afterward.  Much moving of tables and chairs (my husband again), unwrapping food and clean-up afterward.  And with our second son home today, we're riding high on that wonderfulness.  Much emotion here and there.

I want to share something funny about our youngest daughter (always known as the least one when I write).  She has glasses on in the wedding shot of her, but she doesn't really wear a prescription pair.  She picked those frames out at the dollar store, I banged out the lenses and she's worn them for about two weeks.  Black with those rhinestones on the corners, but no lenses.  Just makes me laugh.  She puts them on first thing in the morning, and wears them all day.

And as to our clothes.  Several things came from the thrift store:  my ankle boots, the least one's dress and her boots, middle daughter's boots, my husband's bow-tie (he bought four), his jacket and his wingtips.  We made out real good at a couple of thrift stores.  Amazing when you think about it.

Now looking forward to non-dramatic days.  School begins here tomorrow with me teaching only the two girls---and it delights me to show you their sweet faces in the pictures.  Life surely can now be about more mundane things.  It's been about the son who just got married and his two rascal brothers for way too long.  The children at home finally admitted the other day that they were tired of everything centering around those boys.  Oh my.  Not what I wanted to hear, but needed to be aware of nonetheless.

Tomorrow is a new day.  Thankful for that.  New beginnings.

After wedding day

The wedding was fine.  That sounds like a lousy comment, doesn't it?  But it was. Fine. Beautiful bride, and our son looked handsome in his uniform.  Our other sons looked pretty spiffy in their tuxes.  Lisa said bittersweet about the process, and she's right. Perfect word.

Will put up some more photos when someone here in this house with a better camera than my smart phone loads some. Mine all ended up grainy.

Here's a teaser from one of their friend's FB book photos.  I just borrowed it.

Wedding day afternoon

Something to remember for future weddings, be it for a son or daughter:  Have someone in charge, whether a paid person, or preferably, an interested friend/family member.  This wedding is all over the place with folks delivering, setting up (supposedly) and making it all come together.  A bit messy.  And nobody seems to know how to tell time.

And we still don't know who's cutting the cake.  In my day, you asked a special friend ahead of time to have that honor, and an honor it is.

One son, who's the best man, is at the wedding chapel/reception hall now waiting for folks to bring things.  He's not been designated as the in-charge person, but he's pretty tidy in his head, so it works.  And I told him on the phone just now, as the best man, he's by default the go-to guy.  He should have been given permission ages ago.

* * *

The rehearsal went well last night, and forgive me, but a preacher who doesn't know the wedding couple and has only met them briefly before, well, it's awkward.  He's got the personality of a game show host.  When they went through the routine of who stands where and when to walk the aisle, and so forth, he'd say something to the effect that when it was done correctly, "You win.  Way-to-go. Collect your prize when you leave the building."  (clap groom on the back---insert laughter)

Really?

In these settings the sacrament of Holy Matrimony gets lessened to one more show. It's not Holy, and with them living together for months before they secretly married in January at the Court House---there's nothing to look forward to.  It's all been done. Sort of sad in that.

Just telling it like it is.

But the rehearsal dinner went by so smoothly.   The house where we held it was beautiful, there was plenty of food---and there were only about 25 folks, so it was easy. Met more of the bride's family, and everyone was sweet.  Couldn't have been better. Bathing situations in prayer is always the answer.  It flowed.

Looking forward to tonight.  Our responsibilities are, pretty much, over so we can chill. Sorry to sound cynical, but this couple isn't allowing the Lord to be in charge of their relationship, so the heart isn't in it.  It's all surface.  Maybe having a game show host as the one who performs the service is appropriate.  It'd be nice to be all chipper and say it's all wonderful and we're so thrilled.  That'd be false enthusiasm, though.

I will enjoy getting dressed up, and being with my boys one more night. That's a definite plus.

But God ordained marriage.  Seems to me He should be invited.

Thursday early afternoon

Keeping a running tally of what's going on, mainly for future reference.  Last night's cooking went perfectly (which I attribute directly to prayer), yet today is a bit of a stretch. End of the wire, you know.  Nervous energy.  I'll iron a couple of things in a minute, and keep rotating the BBQ in the oven.  Seeing all the food prepared in the bowls makes a person wonder if there will be enough.  

And in a strange twist, our son and his bride asked friends to the rehearsal dinner, those who live in town who they see all the time, but who aren't in the wedding.  That accounts for the number being so high.  Also, the ultimate number of forty might actually be as low as 25.  They put folks on the list and told us they'd be there before getting refusals or commitments.  Where's Emily Post when you need her?

Today I'm looking forward to seeing my two sons who are walking on the wild side. Haven't seen either of them in about two months.  My husband said it was appropriate they'd be coming together---oldest son picking up other son at his apartment, since they live on the same side of town.  

My girls will go ahead and set up the food, which is an amazing help.  

Here we go....

Pre-wedding to-do and already-done list

Hit the ground running this morning, but that's alright.  Get-er-done, as my husband says.  Kids and I went to my mom's, took her groceries to see her through the weekend, she bathed and I set her hair.  The least one polished her nails, and all the girls saw to her outfit she's chosen to wear to the wedding.  She's good to go.  She won't go to the rehearsal dinner, because it'd just wear her out.  One event is plenty.

Got last-minute things at the store.  Middle daughter is making Lemon Squares right now, and later on I'll do Potato Salad, the Chocolate Picnic Cake and some tiny yeast rolls.  Honestly, I'm looking forward to the cooking, once middle daughter is finished.  I can flow with that.  The least one will put together slaw, which is my mother-in-law's recipe and is wonderful.  No mayonnaise, so it'll keep nicely.

This really doesn't sound too bad.  I'm at home, no other errands for me to do personally today, so that's a blessing.  And oldest daughter left a bit ago to take her youngest brother to the tux place.  Then they'll go to the rehearsal dinner home and clean the tables and chairs with their dad, so they're ready to be covered with plastic tablecloths tomorrow afternoon.

A small drugstore run sometime tomorrow and sanity can commence.  Maybe.  I'm optimistic.

Or maybe multi-tasking is becoming so much a part of my life, brought on with my mom's care, that I just do it.  Complaining the whole way, but it gets accomplished. Fussing is my way to vent, I guess.

* * *

A cool piece of news.  My married brother's wife made a quilt for the blissful couple and it's a Memory Quilt.  I've not unpacked it from the mailing box, but she added a permanent marker so maybe they'd want folks at the wedding to sign it.  That's their decision and I could go either way, but it's awfully sweet, no matter.  This sister-in-law and I butted heads after my mom's stroke, so for her to be so generous is a blessing I won't go into further.  I'm indeed thankful.  Seems with weddings, births and deaths folks forgive quicker.  Clears out the cobwebs of disagreement.

Must go.  Take care.

'Pray Like a Gourmet' by David Brazzeal

David Brazzeal's book Pray Like a Gourmet is a light-hearted, yet sincere manual to encourage creativity in prayer.  He begins the book by talking about how mundane and ordinary are our eating habits.  Being satisfied with junk or take-out food when there are so many other possibilities.  And with that angle, he takes the reader through various ways of incorporating imagination into our prayer lives.  Now, everyone doesn't need this help, but many folks would gain some ideas they'd maybe not thought of.  

I get the impression he's directing the book toward those who've become jaded in their prayer walks, and need an encourager.  With a joyful spirit, Brazzeal shares ideas (sadly, not food recipes, which I was hoping for), and has a great enthusiasm for his prayer journey.

My only complaint with the book regards design and not content.  A yellow ink is used repeatedly as an accent with some phrases and is very difficult to read.  Change that and you have a winner.

(i received this book free to review from speak easy)

'Beauty as a State of Being' by Dr. Solomon Katz

In my defense, when I requested Dr. Solomon Katz' book Beauty as a State of Being, I was unaware it was a book on Zen Buddhist thought.  It's what I'd call yoga for the mind.

"The individual soul is the same thing as the universal soul.  In other words, your essence, the most intimate aspect, the very heart of your being is the universal Being, the Eternal, the All.  The soul, then, is the Heart and the All.  At heart, you are literally God."

I think I've quoted enough.

To me, as a born-again believer in the true Creator of the Universe, the Trinity, the Lord Jesus Christ, this is so much drivel.  And while there are positives in the Buddhist belief system---avoidance of conflict, for example, and techniques for quietening the mind---the roots just don't work for me.  It's a very shallow belief system.  Eternity is a very long time.

Dr. Katz is very enthusiastic for his system of thought, and has substantial followers.  I just won't be one of them.

(i received this book free to review from speak easy)

The Anglican way

Four years ago the groom-who's-getting-married-on-Friday began taking his long-board to the Anglican church where we presently attend.  It's close the university and our house, so an easy journey.  In a car, it takes about five minutes to get there.  He visited there several Sundays, and encouraged me to go with him.  At first I was chicken---I mean, we'd been going to a Presbyterian mega church (visiting) for a couple of years after being at a a smaller reformed Presbyterian church.  All the bells and whistles of an Anglican church intimidated me.  The kneeling and genuflecting, all of it strange, but in a way, endearing.

Fast forward.  I went, I fell in love (literally) with the liturgy, and with my husband's blessing, in 2012, went through Confirmation classes and joined.  In 2013, the groom and one daughter did the same, and last year two more daughters did likewise.  Youngest son is on the fence about all of the rigmarole, as is my husband.  They go, but aren't interested in getting the secret handshake, so to speak.  Ah, but they go.  That's the main thing.

What's so amazing about our church, and not sure if it's indicative of the whole Episcopalian experience, is the worship.  Even Gary said the same thing.  The service isn't centered on a pastor's sermon or teaching.  With the kneeling and the crossing of yourself, and the bowing before the altar both coming in and going out of the pews, it's about showing deference to the Lord.  And I think for many of us, that's sometimes a bit awkward.  An outward display of a servant's heart.

I'm afraid we Protestants have so disinfected our churches that we've taken out the wonder.  The aspect of God's Holiness is sometimes missing.  We become so enamored in church attendance numbers and building huge fortresses that the worship part of our lives is missing.  Wonder what would happen if those churches that focus mainly on preaching would have a service of thankfulness and praise.  Not mindless praise music that goes on forever, but those old hymns that focus on God's Holiness.  Quiet praise.

I suspect we'd witness some broken spirits and tears.  And a healing.