I am SO gonna make one of these sometime.....
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
To Do (and DONE)
(one day later....I accomplished some of it anyway!)
organize my spice cupboard and pantry
X wallpaper something...but I'm not telling you what
X paint 2 chairs
X throw out all my clothes except for 2 dresses, my favorite jeans and a black and white t-shirt ( I probably won't do this, but I wish I had the guts to do it)
attack my "to make" list for the art show
X list on etsy
gut the children's bedrooms so that they look like kid's rooms in decorating magazines (oh, wait....they never show children's rooms in decorating magazines unless they are only children or adopted by gay men....hmmmmm)
X bake some chocolate chip zuchini cookies...which Charleigh calls "Bikinis"
X read my chapters for bookclub....tonight.
X cut off my hair and start over.
orchestrate a new template for my blog, with matching business cards and signage
make a good sketch of my logo
X enjoy the wonder and rarity of a gray day in July.
organize my spice cupboard and pantry
X wallpaper something...but I'm not telling you what
X paint 2 chairs
X throw out all my clothes except for 2 dresses, my favorite jeans and a black and white t-shirt ( I probably won't do this, but I wish I had the guts to do it)
attack my "to make" list for the art show
X list on etsy
gut the children's bedrooms so that they look like kid's rooms in decorating magazines (oh, wait....they never show children's rooms in decorating magazines unless they are only children or adopted by gay men....hmmmmm)
X bake some chocolate chip zuchini cookies...which Charleigh calls "Bikinis"
X read my chapters for bookclub....tonight.
X cut off my hair and start over.
orchestrate a new template for my blog, with matching business cards and signage
make a good sketch of my logo
X enjoy the wonder and rarity of a gray day in July.
I could live here....
This is from a blog I read called Poppytalk. Ok, I don't ever actually read it, I just look at the pictures.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
This Part of Summer
When I was a kid, I often heard my mom say that she loved having us kids at home. I would hear her telling other grown ups that she wasn't really looking forward to school starting, that it was nice to have us there.
I've thought about that often at the beginning of summer since my kids became school-aged....you know...those first weeks when they bumble around saying their bored and asking what they should do. When all they seem to know is sitting around in front of the television and making messes and bickering with one another. When I want to find a hook and hang them on it. But then summer ripens up and becomes much sweeter. That's where we are now, and now I think I understood what my mom was feeling.
I love having my kids home right now. I love being here with them. We are contemplating a trip to the library today, and I will have to really push myself to go because I like home so much right now. (keep your jokes to yourself H). Now please understand, the house is a DISASTER. Their rooms are total chaos. There are forty two flies in the house and they haven't even started running back and forth to the next door neighbor's house for the day. But what I love is that they've gotten the hang of owning their days. I don't have to tell them what to do....they just wake up with ideas and games and projects in their little heads. I might lasso them into a chore or two, but for the most part, the days are theirs to command. They are currently making a pile as big as they can on Vin's bed out of pillows and blankets, which will lead to jumping soon. There will be massive leggo creations and much paper flying with Mattie's fashion drawings. And Charleigh's make-believe is better than tv to watch (furtively, behind the edge of the door, of course). They'll take a dip in the pool, coming up with new games and new skills...Charleigh took her first few real swimming strokes yesterday. They watch a few shows on tv, but only until I am awake enough to tell them to turn it off. They take turns on the computer, playing games on Lego dot com and PBS kids. They read. Vin listens to The Chronicles of Narnia on CD almost every day. I like them. I think they are cool kids.
Only 19 more days to hang with them. Bummer.
I am busy. They are busy. We are like little bees in our hive. And I love having them here.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thank Goodness it's Monday!
On Friday, I got a call from the aforementioned gallery that turned me down. No, they didn't change their mind. It's actually better: They invited me to take part in a one day Arts Show. This will be my very first show, and I have been dutifully researching 10x10 outdoor festival tents like a mad woman. And if you happen to have one of those handy dandy tents to loan me, that would be gReAt!
So I have about 10 completed pieces, but that's not nearly enough for that full, inviting look you want for a sale. So I have been snipping away, making lists and morphing into my full-blown-work-mode, which is: me at the dining room table, (because my studio is simply covered in stuff),chips a-flyinig, setting multiple pieces, with Robb's computer in front of me, playing a looped version of The Best of Friends volumes 1-4.
There may or may not be a glass of wine involved, but I find that I like my results so much better WITH (ha ha).
I try not to do this kind of work on Sundays. It's not that I'm legalistic, I just kind of think I do better work when I take a break sometimes. And what better day to take a break than Sunday?
Hubby caught the dreaded virus from the kids, and is still lying wrapped up in multiple blankets with a high fever, the chills and a sore throat. He came down with it about 2 minutes after lunch yesterday. Which left me sleeping on the couch because I don't have time for the flu!
So yeah, now it is Monday and I can get back to working....right after I wash the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, do the laundry, vacuum, and goad my children into cleaning their rooms.
And oh yeah...here's a sneak preview of what I have layed out, nothing glued or polished, of course:
So I have about 10 completed pieces, but that's not nearly enough for that full, inviting look you want for a sale. So I have been snipping away, making lists and morphing into my full-blown-work-mode, which is: me at the dining room table, (because my studio is simply covered in stuff),chips a-flyinig, setting multiple pieces, with Robb's computer in front of me, playing a looped version of The Best of Friends volumes 1-4.
There may or may not be a glass of wine involved, but I find that I like my results so much better WITH (ha ha).I try not to do this kind of work on Sundays. It's not that I'm legalistic, I just kind of think I do better work when I take a break sometimes. And what better day to take a break than Sunday?
Hubby caught the dreaded virus from the kids, and is still lying wrapped up in multiple blankets with a high fever, the chills and a sore throat. He came down with it about 2 minutes after lunch yesterday. Which left me sleeping on the couch because I don't have time for the flu!
So yeah, now it is Monday and I can get back to working....right after I wash the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, do the laundry, vacuum, and goad my children into cleaning their rooms.
And oh yeah...here's a sneak preview of what I have layed out, nothing glued or polished, of course:
Friday, July 25, 2008
A Harvest of a Completely Different Kind
I wish "Poop on a newspaper guy" knew that flies are just as interested in a mixture of
1 cup of water
1/3 cup of corn syrup (finally an appropriate use for corn syrup!)
2/3 cup of apple cider vinegar
I made trap on Tuesday and had to empty it this morning and start over again today. For whatever reason, they want nothing to do with it once they are inside my house. But it gives me great pleasure to know I've taken these ones out!
It was pretty hilarious when the Orkin Man came yesterday, signing up new customers. He just had to know what was in that thing!
1 cup of water
1/3 cup of corn syrup (finally an appropriate use for corn syrup!)
2/3 cup of apple cider vinegar
I made trap on Tuesday and had to empty it this morning and start over again today. For whatever reason, they want nothing to do with it once they are inside my house. But it gives me great pleasure to know I've taken these ones out!
It was pretty hilarious when the Orkin Man came yesterday, signing up new customers. He just had to know what was in that thing!
Freedom
Friday. You blessed day, I thought you'd never come. Tonight, I'll make something fun for supper and Robb and I will watch a movie late into the night and we'll wake up when we want to on Saturday morning and go the Farmer's Market and get some FOOD. How loverly.
I have officially not been out of the house all week. I rather like to stay home, quite honestly. Today, I'll probably tinker some more with my secondary Etsy store The Rick Rack Shack, where I'm listing all the fabric and hundreds of patterns I've acquired in my journeys. And I'd like to mosaic. I have a thought in my head that's been simmering for a while, wanting to be made.
It's a relief to H, I'm sure, to know that I want to mosaic again. Having the gallery turn me down was a serious bummer and really took the wind out of my sails. She asked me yesterday if I couldn't enjoy making things if I knew I couldn't sell them. That was a great question and it got me thinking.
It's true that I'm always thinking about the sale-ability of an item I make or buy. I'm thinking about how to market it, and ultimately how to literally trade what I've got for what I want: kids clothes, good food, occasional eating out, garden supplies, redecorating supplies....
I found myself wondering if that was a good trait or a bad trait. Other people, I know, don't live and think this way. Robb took me for a much needed walk around the block last night and we talked it out. "I guess it depends on what you want the money for?" he asked. And then it dawned on me. Money isn't anything all by itself. Money means all kinds of different things to people. Sometimes it means a feeling of security. I would say, that making that little bit of extra money that I do, while puttering around, means the promise of freedom. And freedom is extraordinarily important to me.
That's probably why I've been so grouchy all week...with the kids sick and the budget tight, and the heat and bugs so oppressive outside, I told Robb I felt like I was living on a square foot of space and couldn't move. Knowing that I have all these limitations makes me focus too much on the limitations and not on what I do have to work with.
When I was a kid, I went to a school with essentially no freedom. They even tried to make having devotions mandatory. The rule book was already thick when each year, they would add new prohibitions to it based on the current worldly issues of the day...thanks to Madonna, we couldn't wear socks and panty hose at the same time. I'm not sure who the guys had to thank for the prohibition on pants with double stitching. It was insane. You also couldn't go to movies or dances, and I'm sure they would have frowned on Rock-n-bowl if they could have figured out a way to work that into the rule book. And don't even get me started on Pizza Hut because they served beer in pitchers!
But I never became a rebellious teenager. And I think one of the reasons for that was that at home, I had all the freedom I wanted. As a younger kid on three acres of field and woods, if I wanted to build something with Dad's tools, make something out of Mom scraps, learn to cook, go fishing, go exploring in the woods, catch crayfish in the creek, ride my bike, hang out in my tree house, dig in the dirt, or just generally lie around with a stack of fifty library books, that was cool. As a high schooler, I had no curfew. The car when I wanted it. Shoot...my senior year, I stayed out all night once because I didn't want to drive home in the snow from my boyfriend's house. It was already late when I made my decision, and I knew my parents would be asleep. So I didn't even call them. In the morning, they called me, where I was fast asleep in said boyfriend's kid-brother's room. All I got out of that was a laughing "Dumb Kid....don't do that again without calling us." Ok. It was as much freedom as I needed.
As an adult, the number one thing that began to scratch our hide at churches we pastored, was when freedom was cut off. When it was obvious any new ideas were going to be killed and the status quo was going to be worshiped, it was time to roll on out.
I've got absolutely zero interest in maintaining a garden of status quo. I thrive on the freedom to do things a little differently. Robb knows this about me, and does a great job of living with me. His one rule is that I let him know when I'm going to paint something, so he knows what to expect. He cherishes freedom too, so he's quick to give me as much as I need.
Money to me, is a means of freedom. The freedom to say yes when friends want to go out to eat. The freedom to do the things you like to do and are good at, instead of being hooked up to a job that you don't care about. The freedom to travel around a bit so you don't ever get too mossy and provincial. The freedom to try something new without it wiping out your bank account.
So how about you? What does money mean to you? How important is freedom to you? Or maybe money and freedom mean nothing to you and you cherish something else? I'm curious. What are you working for?
I have officially not been out of the house all week. I rather like to stay home, quite honestly. Today, I'll probably tinker some more with my secondary Etsy store The Rick Rack Shack, where I'm listing all the fabric and hundreds of patterns I've acquired in my journeys. And I'd like to mosaic. I have a thought in my head that's been simmering for a while, wanting to be made.
It's a relief to H, I'm sure, to know that I want to mosaic again. Having the gallery turn me down was a serious bummer and really took the wind out of my sails. She asked me yesterday if I couldn't enjoy making things if I knew I couldn't sell them. That was a great question and it got me thinking.
It's true that I'm always thinking about the sale-ability of an item I make or buy. I'm thinking about how to market it, and ultimately how to literally trade what I've got for what I want: kids clothes, good food, occasional eating out, garden supplies, redecorating supplies....
I found myself wondering if that was a good trait or a bad trait. Other people, I know, don't live and think this way. Robb took me for a much needed walk around the block last night and we talked it out. "I guess it depends on what you want the money for?" he asked. And then it dawned on me. Money isn't anything all by itself. Money means all kinds of different things to people. Sometimes it means a feeling of security. I would say, that making that little bit of extra money that I do, while puttering around, means the promise of freedom. And freedom is extraordinarily important to me.
That's probably why I've been so grouchy all week...with the kids sick and the budget tight, and the heat and bugs so oppressive outside, I told Robb I felt like I was living on a square foot of space and couldn't move. Knowing that I have all these limitations makes me focus too much on the limitations and not on what I do have to work with.
When I was a kid, I went to a school with essentially no freedom. They even tried to make having devotions mandatory. The rule book was already thick when each year, they would add new prohibitions to it based on the current worldly issues of the day...thanks to Madonna, we couldn't wear socks and panty hose at the same time. I'm not sure who the guys had to thank for the prohibition on pants with double stitching. It was insane. You also couldn't go to movies or dances, and I'm sure they would have frowned on Rock-n-bowl if they could have figured out a way to work that into the rule book. And don't even get me started on Pizza Hut because they served beer in pitchers!
But I never became a rebellious teenager. And I think one of the reasons for that was that at home, I had all the freedom I wanted. As a younger kid on three acres of field and woods, if I wanted to build something with Dad's tools, make something out of Mom scraps, learn to cook, go fishing, go exploring in the woods, catch crayfish in the creek, ride my bike, hang out in my tree house, dig in the dirt, or just generally lie around with a stack of fifty library books, that was cool. As a high schooler, I had no curfew. The car when I wanted it. Shoot...my senior year, I stayed out all night once because I didn't want to drive home in the snow from my boyfriend's house. It was already late when I made my decision, and I knew my parents would be asleep. So I didn't even call them. In the morning, they called me, where I was fast asleep in said boyfriend's kid-brother's room. All I got out of that was a laughing "Dumb Kid....don't do that again without calling us." Ok. It was as much freedom as I needed.
As an adult, the number one thing that began to scratch our hide at churches we pastored, was when freedom was cut off. When it was obvious any new ideas were going to be killed and the status quo was going to be worshiped, it was time to roll on out.
I've got absolutely zero interest in maintaining a garden of status quo. I thrive on the freedom to do things a little differently. Robb knows this about me, and does a great job of living with me. His one rule is that I let him know when I'm going to paint something, so he knows what to expect. He cherishes freedom too, so he's quick to give me as much as I need.
Money to me, is a means of freedom. The freedom to say yes when friends want to go out to eat. The freedom to do the things you like to do and are good at, instead of being hooked up to a job that you don't care about. The freedom to travel around a bit so you don't ever get too mossy and provincial. The freedom to try something new without it wiping out your bank account.
So how about you? What does money mean to you? How important is freedom to you? Or maybe money and freedom mean nothing to you and you cherish something else? I'm curious. What are you working for?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Jonah Week
I guess it's gonna be a Jonah Week instead. Vin is now sick with the fever (and boys are much less agreeable as sick people than girls) and I got word late last night that my beloved mosaic mailbox had suffered damages in shipping.
Calgon? Margaritaville? Mommy?
Calgon? Margaritaville? Mommy?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Blue
Yesterday was a Jonah Day as Anne Shirley used to call them. Mattie had a tummy ache most of the day, and Charleigh woke up from her nap with a fever and ear-ache. We had some unexpected bills that crapped out the budget making things just tight (read: no fun) for the rest of the month, and the Heartwood called to say they had chosen another artist for the gallery. I tried to work yesterday afternoon, but it was so freakin' hot outside, my brain felt a little gelled over. And the flies...I can't explain to you the Biblical-plague-quality of the flies around here...it has something to do with the chicken farms, people speculate. But I'm sure my own little compost pile doesn't help. You walk outside and they swirl around your ankles and face. The Japanese beetles are almost as bad...they've eaten most of the roses before they even got a chance to bloom.
So I packed in my work and crawled into bed and kept reading my biography about Harry S. Truman.
I had hoped to escape to the library today, but it looks like Charleigh is still sick. Time to get up, make some coffee and try to remember that God is an optimist.
At least it hasn't come to this:
So I packed in my work and crawled into bed and kept reading my biography about Harry S. Truman.
I had hoped to escape to the library today, but it looks like Charleigh is still sick. Time to get up, make some coffee and try to remember that God is an optimist.
At least it hasn't come to this:
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Peach Salsa
Basic Peach Salsa
2 ripe, but firm medium peaches
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/4 cup finely chopped onion
1/2 cup diced red and/or green bell pepper
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro (THIS IS A KEY INGREDIENT!)
1 chopped hot pepper...we've used medium hot fresh peppers or canned jalapeños. You can vary this to get the level of hotness you like.
1/2 teaspoon salt
fresh ground black pepper to taste
yummy.
Green Guilt
This is from a blog I *secretly* read. And if you got at least a "C" in English grammar, may I humbly suggest the side splitting world of The Blog Of Unnecessary Quotation Marks. Seriously, the heat index is going to be 103 today...you might as well have something good to read.
Monday, July 21, 2008
ETSY SALE
If you are at all interested, I have slashed prices in my etsy store to make room for new merchandise. There are also many items marked FREE WITH PURCHASE!
enjoy!
enjoy!
Today's Local Yeild....
12 quarts of peaches in the freezer from the orchard 1 mile away with three pints of peach-huckleberry jam to boot. Wow, it's only 10:30 a.m. and I feel so accomplished maybe I'll take a nap.
just kidding.
maybe.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Tizzy
It's been an interesting couple of days here in Ryerland. (I just made that place up, don't try to google-map it). We looked at house yesterday. A house I LOVED. A house just...JUST outside of the realm of possibility and it has been messing with my head ever since. I slept badly, dreaming about it, scheming about it, and awoke to get ready for church. Discontent.
I stepped on the scale, once again. Stuffed Fresh Eggplant for dinner with a lovely green salad....Good. Oreo Ice Cream and left over cake...BAD. Discontent.
God is Green has been kicking my bum. It's this whole other realm of my spiritual existence that my mind grasps much quicker than my habits can seem to catch up to. There is a considerable noise in my head about all I could- should?- change as a result of very spiritual reasons. It's like trying to swallow an elephant and I am not now, nor have I ever been, good at a long-term project. It's like when you are on a road trip, and you suddenly get a glimpse of the long, long road ahead of you. Robb and I, on long, long car trips, used to facetiously attempt to wiggle our noses, click our heels together, and somehow be past it all and to our destination. It never worked. It probably won't work now, will it? Discontent.
Hey Vintage regulars....where were you all today???? We had 10 visitors. 5 new couples! Some had kids. I showed them to our nursery, and tried not to die of embarrassment as my kids had been playing busily and messily while I did other things. Our building is wretched, but we do the best we can. I find myself trying to find the poised "it's just a building, Vintage Fellowship is more than this place" stance over the panicking "Please don't hate us because our kid's rooms are only this much....we're doing the best we can." The whole service, I felt like I was taking emotional temperatures, looking at the back of people's heads, unusually sensitive to how it was going for them. One ear was tuned to Robb's beautifully woven tapestry of ideas, and one ear was tuned to the level of the children's voices. I am not alone in my discontent over this building.
In all of it though, I kept hearing this verse in my head:
You want something but don't get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.
There is such a thing as holy discontent. But all of my discontent is tainted with wrong motives, scheming, bad theology, selfishness, laziness, rudely expecting God to only give me easy, comfortable environs. My lust for more and better is nothing short of shocking, trumped only by my desires to be admired and doted on. Being sick of myself might be the most holy part of my discontent.
God help me. Give me the grace to be something else. I ache to be different.
I stepped on the scale, once again. Stuffed Fresh Eggplant for dinner with a lovely green salad....Good. Oreo Ice Cream and left over cake...BAD. Discontent.
God is Green has been kicking my bum. It's this whole other realm of my spiritual existence that my mind grasps much quicker than my habits can seem to catch up to. There is a considerable noise in my head about all I could- should?- change as a result of very spiritual reasons. It's like trying to swallow an elephant and I am not now, nor have I ever been, good at a long-term project. It's like when you are on a road trip, and you suddenly get a glimpse of the long, long road ahead of you. Robb and I, on long, long car trips, used to facetiously attempt to wiggle our noses, click our heels together, and somehow be past it all and to our destination. It never worked. It probably won't work now, will it? Discontent.
Hey Vintage regulars....where were you all today???? We had 10 visitors. 5 new couples! Some had kids. I showed them to our nursery, and tried not to die of embarrassment as my kids had been playing busily and messily while I did other things. Our building is wretched, but we do the best we can. I find myself trying to find the poised "it's just a building, Vintage Fellowship is more than this place" stance over the panicking "Please don't hate us because our kid's rooms are only this much....we're doing the best we can." The whole service, I felt like I was taking emotional temperatures, looking at the back of people's heads, unusually sensitive to how it was going for them. One ear was tuned to Robb's beautifully woven tapestry of ideas, and one ear was tuned to the level of the children's voices. I am not alone in my discontent over this building.
In all of it though, I kept hearing this verse in my head:
You want something but don't get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.
There is such a thing as holy discontent. But all of my discontent is tainted with wrong motives, scheming, bad theology, selfishness, laziness, rudely expecting God to only give me easy, comfortable environs. My lust for more and better is nothing short of shocking, trumped only by my desires to be admired and doted on. Being sick of myself might be the most holy part of my discontent.
God help me. Give me the grace to be something else. I ache to be different.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Indiana Jones Runs from Cake Boulder
This was a weekend of much festivity. We celebrated Vin's birthday with his first overnighter birthday party with his buds. And what's an adventure birthday party without a adventurous (read: Will this work?) birthday cake.
Run, Indy!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Officially
I have officially had enough of the
@#$%-ing,
$%*-*%#$-ed,
Son of motherless-goat
FLIES
in my house.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
To Market, to market to buy a fat....eggplant.
In accordance with what we are learning about God being green and our current food solutions killing us softly, we went this morning to the Farmer's Market.
Actually, we would have gotten there much sooner, but our doorbell rang early this morning with a forlorn version of our next door neighbor kid asking if he could come over. He said that his whole family was gone and he had a bad dream and woke up to an empty house. This seemed a little off to me, but their van was indeed gone. So I fed him breakfast with my own brood. After he'd tucked away his fried egg and toast with raspberry jam, the doorbell rang and his MUCH older brother asked for him with a wrinkle across his forehead...."I was sleeping right next to you!" he exclaimed when Mark appeared from Vin's room, where Leggos covered the floor.
So anyway....the farmer's market was our ultimate destination today. Right after I stopped at the orchard stand a mile away and purchased my very own bushel of Red Haven peaches. I plan to freeze these now and make decisions about their ultimate form a little later.
I'd like to mention that we ate farm-fresh eggs of different varieties, including the fun green ones, thanks to my friend Kathy who heard on Sunday about our desire to try to eat more local food and therefore produced eggs at bookclub last night. Well, not produced eggs herself, but you know what I mean...she gets fresh eggs from her friend and got us some too.
So anywhoo....here we are at the farmers market and here too is some of what we bought....local, in season, and organic. We are trying this out. It felt weird to tell you the truth.
It felt weird to be so face to face with the growers and their food. It was strangely intimate. It was also awkward with the tote bags and the three kids and the cash at each table. Not like the air-conditioned stroll through the grocery store. I went without a list, because I didn't know what would be available....and therefore I completely forgot some things we should probably have on hand....especially with a birthday party tomorrow night with little boys...hungry little boys.
It was of course, idyllic and classy to be buying there, with all the conscientious buyers, and the touristy-buyers, and the academic buyers and the hippie-dippy buyers...and the dogs on leashes and the street musicians. I don't know what we were.
I won't maybe know about that for a while. Because you see, I grew up in a family that did grow their own food, not because it was chic, but because it was cheaper. I value what goes into it because I have the picture in my head of my mom, 7 months pregnant, lugging bushels of tomatoes down from the garden, to turn into 100s of quarts of sauce. I have that picture and I have the elitist foodies in my head too. They are, at least, anonymous, so I can use such terms as elitist and foodie. And I am pretty sure I know I'm not them. But I don't know if I can be like my mom, who worked so hard for so many months, simultaneously sewing up back to school clothes from scratch as well. I'm a wimp. I don't think I can be that good of a mom. I like easy.
They say you are what you eat. I know what we've been for the last 10 years, and I am discontent. I just don't know exactly what we will be in the next 10. But we are trying. And I hope that that counts for something.
Actually, we would have gotten there much sooner, but our doorbell rang early this morning with a forlorn version of our next door neighbor kid asking if he could come over. He said that his whole family was gone and he had a bad dream and woke up to an empty house. This seemed a little off to me, but their van was indeed gone. So I fed him breakfast with my own brood. After he'd tucked away his fried egg and toast with raspberry jam, the doorbell rang and his MUCH older brother asked for him with a wrinkle across his forehead...."I was sleeping right next to you!" he exclaimed when Mark appeared from Vin's room, where Leggos covered the floor.
So anyway....the farmer's market was our ultimate destination today. Right after I stopped at the orchard stand a mile away and purchased my very own bushel of Red Haven peaches. I plan to freeze these now and make decisions about their ultimate form a little later.
I'd like to mention that we ate farm-fresh eggs of different varieties, including the fun green ones, thanks to my friend Kathy who heard on Sunday about our desire to try to eat more local food and therefore produced eggs at bookclub last night. Well, not produced eggs herself, but you know what I mean...she gets fresh eggs from her friend and got us some too.
So anywhoo....here we are at the farmers market and here too is some of what we bought....local, in season, and organic. We are trying this out. It felt weird to tell you the truth.
It felt weird to be so face to face with the growers and their food. It was strangely intimate. It was also awkward with the tote bags and the three kids and the cash at each table. Not like the air-conditioned stroll through the grocery store. I went without a list, because I didn't know what would be available....and therefore I completely forgot some things we should probably have on hand....especially with a birthday party tomorrow night with little boys...hungry little boys.
It was of course, idyllic and classy to be buying there, with all the conscientious buyers, and the touristy-buyers, and the academic buyers and the hippie-dippy buyers...and the dogs on leashes and the street musicians. I don't know what we were.
I won't maybe know about that for a while. Because you see, I grew up in a family that did grow their own food, not because it was chic, but because it was cheaper. I value what goes into it because I have the picture in my head of my mom, 7 months pregnant, lugging bushels of tomatoes down from the garden, to turn into 100s of quarts of sauce. I have that picture and I have the elitist foodies in my head too. They are, at least, anonymous, so I can use such terms as elitist and foodie. And I am pretty sure I know I'm not them. But I don't know if I can be like my mom, who worked so hard for so many months, simultaneously sewing up back to school clothes from scratch as well. I'm a wimp. I don't think I can be that good of a mom. I like easy.
They say you are what you eat. I know what we've been for the last 10 years, and I am discontent. I just don't know exactly what we will be in the next 10. But we are trying. And I hope that that counts for something.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
White Mosaic
I love the look that some people can live in that consists of all shades of white. I love color too much to do it in my whole house, but when my shards of white started to pile up (so high in the scrap bowl that I couldn't fit it under my work table), I decided to put them to use. This is what I made yesterday afternoon.
Monday, July 14, 2008
I have SO MUCH to blog about!
I'm not even sure where to start....and so I fear I must treat you to a stream of "conscious-Ness"...
It is good to have my kids back from Virginia. I do not say easier, quieter, or more sane to have my children back, but I do say unequivocally GOOD to have them back. While they were gone, besides acting like honeymooners, we did manage to do some mental organizing...you know, changes we'd like to make to our lifestyle and goals and dreams for the future. This is something I think we are kind of good at...making goals and often achieving them....we did that about 7 years ago and reached all of thee goals except Robb getting a Ph.D. He planted a church instead.
Anyway...we watched very little t.v. and I got some books from the library that are fully holding my attention. I go through fits and starts with reading...it's been a pretty long dry-spell since I really loved a book. Lately, though, I've gotten a hold of a couple that will be real direction changers.
For example, as part of our God is Green campaign (series) at VF, I picked up Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. This book deserves it's own post, so I'll try to contain myself, but just so you know, the wheels in my head are turning.
Before we ran out of alone time, we made not one, but TWO trips to Eureka Springs to goof off and be silly. I got it into my head that I wanted to take the Ghost Tour of the Crescent Hotel. We had taken the Williamsburg Lantern Ghost Tour years ago and had so much fun, I hoped this would be too.
This tour made me uncomfortable. I kept expecting my mother to pop around the corner and scold me for dabbling in spiritualism. If our "ter guide" (as he called himself) had stuck to the ghoulish stories of the hotel, it would have been plenty fun. But since our "ter guide" started the "ter" with an explanation of aura's, disembodied spirits and a scolding for anyone putting out bad energy, I found myself kind of hoping to actually see a ghost so I wouldn't feel so guilty for wasting my husband's hard earned money. On the truly positive side, we did get to go down into the bowels of the old building, which is one of my favorite things to do. Again....so much more to post...
Before we started out to Nashville to meet Robb's parents, I got a call from the Heartwood Art Gallery. I took in several of my mosaic pieces...including the Dresden Plate Quilt Mirror...for their consideration. Originally, I was told it would take about a week to make a decision. Then I heard 6 weeks. Hopefully, it is somewhere closer to the former. The good news is that they called to say that several customers had inquired about my work and wanted to know what my prices were. I can only hope that this customer-driven interest will translate into earning a booth to display my wares.
We opted to take a different route home from Little Rock on Saturday, having made the same drive three times in 7 days already. We were delighted with this somewhat longer, but much more picturesque trek.
As soon as we arrived home, a monster storm arrived. I had just finished setting our dinner out on the table when the lights went out. We finished our corn on the cob, baked potatoes and nasturtium and lettuce salad (from our very own back yard) by candlelight. The power was good enough to remain out for several more hours, allowing us to put the kiddies to bed, and have a nice read with a glass of wine before drifting off to sleep feeling very content indeed.
Yesterday was one of the nights we made a meal for our friends at South Church, a ministry to the poor and homeless run by my dear friend, H's parents. I had to miss serving the last meal, which may have fueled my absolutely insane attempt to make lemon meringue, peanut butter, and butterscotch pies entirely from scratch and still make it to the church on time. The short story is that the pies did not set up, I was late, and I also sent a giant pan of baked beans careening about in my mini-van. Literally, I spilled the beans. However, the folks were indeed fed despite my left-handed attempts, and largely because the rest of our church are wonderful, generous and hard working people.
Robb and I awoke in the night to a loud crashing thump, the cause of which we still have no idea about (I'm pretty sure I was thinking GHOSTS!). Robb went to investigate only to find that Sid had voiced her total disgust at all of us for all the leaving her outside over-night and bringing the children back just when she had all the attention to herself....in her own very loud canine voice: that would be poop and pee in my studio. This defies logic, really....they say dogs prefer absorbent locations to do their business. Not so with our dumb dog, Sidney. She invariable opts for tile. It was three a.m. and there we were cleaning up. After washing up, we jumped back into bed, and turned on the tv where we landed upon, I do not kid you, Big Joe's Polka Show...featuring an enormously rotund man dressed in a sparkly pink shirt with see-through sleeves, narrating for a polka band playing for dozens of elderly folks dancing the polka like it is going out of style. We amused ourselves for a few minutes, applying all the church-related complaints we could recall to the swirling, sometimes costumed couples....
"Oh, if only the young people would get involved."
"We're missing a couple of generations"
"I don't know why the college kids don't take it seriously."
"Why don't girls wear dresses like that anymore?"
And then we giggled and fell asleep. And Monday morning dawned, where I made baked oatmeal with home-made whipped cream and a few frozen blueberries from my picking last week. I checked on my garden in my bare feet (don't worry, all the dog-poop was inside). And I confirmed my "friendships" on Facebook.
So now you know...
It is good to have my kids back from Virginia. I do not say easier, quieter, or more sane to have my children back, but I do say unequivocally GOOD to have them back. While they were gone, besides acting like honeymooners, we did manage to do some mental organizing...you know, changes we'd like to make to our lifestyle and goals and dreams for the future. This is something I think we are kind of good at...making goals and often achieving them....we did that about 7 years ago and reached all of thee goals except Robb getting a Ph.D. He planted a church instead.
Anyway...we watched very little t.v. and I got some books from the library that are fully holding my attention. I go through fits and starts with reading...it's been a pretty long dry-spell since I really loved a book. Lately, though, I've gotten a hold of a couple that will be real direction changers.
For example, as part of our God is Green campaign (series) at VF, I picked up Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. This book deserves it's own post, so I'll try to contain myself, but just so you know, the wheels in my head are turning.
Before we ran out of alone time, we made not one, but TWO trips to Eureka Springs to goof off and be silly. I got it into my head that I wanted to take the Ghost Tour of the Crescent Hotel. We had taken the Williamsburg Lantern Ghost Tour years ago and had so much fun, I hoped this would be too.
This tour made me uncomfortable. I kept expecting my mother to pop around the corner and scold me for dabbling in spiritualism. If our "ter guide" (as he called himself) had stuck to the ghoulish stories of the hotel, it would have been plenty fun. But since our "ter guide" started the "ter" with an explanation of aura's, disembodied spirits and a scolding for anyone putting out bad energy, I found myself kind of hoping to actually see a ghost so I wouldn't feel so guilty for wasting my husband's hard earned money. On the truly positive side, we did get to go down into the bowels of the old building, which is one of my favorite things to do. Again....so much more to post...
Before we started out to Nashville to meet Robb's parents, I got a call from the Heartwood Art Gallery. I took in several of my mosaic pieces...including the Dresden Plate Quilt Mirror...for their consideration. Originally, I was told it would take about a week to make a decision. Then I heard 6 weeks. Hopefully, it is somewhere closer to the former. The good news is that they called to say that several customers had inquired about my work and wanted to know what my prices were. I can only hope that this customer-driven interest will translate into earning a booth to display my wares.
We opted to take a different route home from Little Rock on Saturday, having made the same drive three times in 7 days already. We were delighted with this somewhat longer, but much more picturesque trek.
As soon as we arrived home, a monster storm arrived. I had just finished setting our dinner out on the table when the lights went out. We finished our corn on the cob, baked potatoes and nasturtium and lettuce salad (from our very own back yard) by candlelight. The power was good enough to remain out for several more hours, allowing us to put the kiddies to bed, and have a nice read with a glass of wine before drifting off to sleep feeling very content indeed.
Yesterday was one of the nights we made a meal for our friends at South Church, a ministry to the poor and homeless run by my dear friend, H's parents. I had to miss serving the last meal, which may have fueled my absolutely insane attempt to make lemon meringue, peanut butter, and butterscotch pies entirely from scratch and still make it to the church on time. The short story is that the pies did not set up, I was late, and I also sent a giant pan of baked beans careening about in my mini-van. Literally, I spilled the beans. However, the folks were indeed fed despite my left-handed attempts, and largely because the rest of our church are wonderful, generous and hard working people.
Robb and I awoke in the night to a loud crashing thump, the cause of which we still have no idea about (I'm pretty sure I was thinking GHOSTS!). Robb went to investigate only to find that Sid had voiced her total disgust at all of us for all the leaving her outside over-night and bringing the children back just when she had all the attention to herself....in her own very loud canine voice: that would be poop and pee in my studio. This defies logic, really....they say dogs prefer absorbent locations to do their business. Not so with our dumb dog, Sidney. She invariable opts for tile. It was three a.m. and there we were cleaning up. After washing up, we jumped back into bed, and turned on the tv where we landed upon, I do not kid you, Big Joe's Polka Show...featuring an enormously rotund man dressed in a sparkly pink shirt with see-through sleeves, narrating for a polka band playing for dozens of elderly folks dancing the polka like it is going out of style. We amused ourselves for a few minutes, applying all the church-related complaints we could recall to the swirling, sometimes costumed couples....
"Oh, if only the young people would get involved."
"We're missing a couple of generations"
"I don't know why the college kids don't take it seriously."
"Why don't girls wear dresses like that anymore?"
And then we giggled and fell asleep. And Monday morning dawned, where I made baked oatmeal with home-made whipped cream and a few frozen blueberries from my picking last week. I checked on my garden in my bare feet (don't worry, all the dog-poop was inside). And I confirmed my "friendships" on Facebook.
So now you know...
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The Weird and Wonderful World of Eureka Springs
If you've never been to Eureka, it would be hard for me to describe it to you in words....in pictures, you can plainly see that it is all the frenetic insanity of an artistic community set inside the prim, Victorian frame of 19 century architecture. I never tire of the contrasts... gay tourist destination and Bible-thumping-fundamentalist attractions, chain stores and true vernacular art galleries, mountains and cavernous springs, writer's colony and monastery, haunted hotel and biker friendly...it is truly unlike any other place on earth.
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