On friendship

"Life is too short to spend time with people who suck the happiness out of you. If someone wants you in their life, they’ll make room for you. You shouldn’t have to fight for a spot.”

Thanks to facebook I think we have all been forced to use the term “friend” a little too indiscriminately. Recent occasions, when someone I consider to be my friend has done or said something to me so unbelievably cruel it has taken my breath away, have made me seriously question the designation “friend.”

Generally speaking I don’t make friends easily or quickly. I am an introvert and making new friends is difficult for me. Forging relationships is a scary business because it means I have to put myself out there. Not only does it require letting another person in to see the real me, but it requires no small effort on their part to get past all my surface warts and prickles.

I find I prefer to spend time with people who listen when I talk instead of just waiting for their turn. Do that and I will try to do the same. Also, if you can find it in your heart to leave the drama out of conversations we will both be better off for it. I don’t appreciate drama in any form. Just tell it like it is or don’t tell it. Don’t get me wrong: I enjoy a good and lively conversation, but I much prefer a conversation of substance. Small talk is not my forte and empty conversation is a complete waste of time, mine and yours.

For the record: it is not much fun to spend time with people who are constantly trying to one-up me because their kid/dog/car/house is better than mine. I appreciate hearing about your children and your home and your whatever, but I expect the same from you with regards to mine.

Like most, I enjoy being with people who genuinely care about me. Me. In turn, I promise to care about them. It is not that difficult. Superficial friendships are not my style. If you are my friend, I care.

In the past year or so I have tried very hard to weed out from my life those people who are a complete drain on my well-being. I have a small circle of amazing friends who value me as much as I them. If you are reading this, chances are you are one of them and for that, I thank you.

Ode to Mom

You were on my mind rather a lot yesterday and again today.

Yesterday evening CJE and I set up the quilt frame. Your quilt frame. The only quilt frame I have any experience with at all.

It fits rather nicely in our great room. The new stapler Karen got you, and subsequently let me take as part of the whole quilting package, is a dream. So much easier to operate than the old one. So easy, in fact, I was able to get Jessica’s quilt on the frame mostly by myself.

Which is both a good and a bad thing.

Putting this first quilt on what is now my frame was definitely a bittersweet operation. Gosh, I miss you, Mom. I miss both your expertise and the haphazard way you used to approach this:
    “We’re not building a piano.”
My anal-retentive personality quirks are not doing me any favors. Without you here to balance me out, I am likely to get out the tape measure to make sure everything is square instead of trusting my eye as you always did.

In the spring when Willa, Karen, Carolyn and Nolda (and hopefully Sheri) are all here to help with the big quilts you left behind, I hope I can control my urge for perfection and just enjoy the time with them doing something you and Karen and I did so many times and had such fun doing.

I never realized or appreciated how much our different personality types complemented one another when it came to these projects we cooked up. There were many, many times your casual, good-enough attitude drove me crazy. I strive for perfection, apparently to the point that, that too, makes me crazy. I can see now how my type-A perfectionism probably made you want to run screaming from the room at times.

I’m sorry about that.

Ideally a mix of the two is incredibly helpful. I can certainly see that now.

I am just praying that I can channel you over Spring Break. You have to be here with me, Mom, so I can not be quite so picky and anal and make everyone want to go home. After all:
    “We are not building a piano.”

I say tomato, you say tomato

I am strong in my faith.

I call this time of year Christmas. That is what works for me.

If you celebrate Hanukkah . . .

If you celebrate Kwanzaa . . .

If you celebrate something else . . .

If you celebrate nothing at all . . .

It really takes nothing away from me and mine.

I am strong enough in my faith that your faith being different from mine does not lessen mine. I feel no threat if you do not believe as I.

If you wish me a Happy Kwanzaa, I can sincerely wish one right back to you without changing the fact I am a Christian. After all, why wouldn’t I want you to have a happy holiday of your choice? I intend to, so why should I wish any less for you?

Why do we all have to be so mean and hateful to those who don’t believe as we do?

I am aware this is a nation founded on Christian principles. However I am also aware those principles transcend the man-made boundaries of faith. Many of the Christian principles held dear by those of the “faith” can be found under the auspices of many other faiths all over the world. It is also true the pilgrims came to this part of the world to escape religious persecution. Yet, here we are.

Love is the greatest commandment Christ gave us. However, the idea of loving thy neighbor appears in one form or another in all faiths. The variations are so slight as to be non-existent.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Rule

So why do we have so much trouble with it? I believe it is the most difficult because it is the most important. Big things are tough. Many of our neighbors are not easy to love, but we are all, Christians and otherwise, beholden to try and keep trying.

Why do Christians think it is all our own? Collectively we are arrogant and narrow-minded. The mob mentality takes over and it is ugly. I like to think, as individuals, we are not all like that. Although I must admit I see very little evidence of it. Too many Christians wear their faith like armor and defy anyone who dares believe anything but what they do. I find it difficult to believe this is what Jesus intended. That whole “love thy neighbor” things goes right out the window for those insecure in their faith and blind in the belief that their way is the only way.

I sincerely believe neither Jesus nor the founding fathers of this country intended for us to live an insular life. It impossible to love and help our neighbors when we refuse to descend from our self-made pedestal and get to know the needs, wants and wishes of our neighbors.

The holidays are nearly upon us. It is Christmastime. Hanukkah is next week. Kwanzaa begins on December 26. Is there some real reason we can’t all have happy holidays?

Thoughts of home

We were supposed to get first frost last night. It didn’t come, but the tomatoes, peppers, pumpkins and squash are safely in the garage anyway.

I got up this morning to a beautiful mist laying over the land. It is thick enough to the north that our customary view of the Columbia River is obscured. Disappointing in a way and yet it gives the landscape an ethereal and mysterious quality. It also make me very happy to be snug in my comfortable home.

While CJE and Liam sleep in this Saturday morning, I am taking a moment to pause and tally up a few of the changes we have wrought since we moved in six months ago. There is still a great deal to be done, but I like to think we have made a dent.

The 7-9-10+ foot jupiter hedge between us and the river is a bit more contained at about six feet. It is still five or six feet deep, but I can easily see the water from the windows of the front room and from the comfortable chairs on the deck. At least I can when the mist hasn’t crept in.

    A side note about jupiter. When CJE was in the midst of trimming the juniper hedge, he asked our son, Liam (who’s six), to help him by hauling away the trimmings in his little red wagon. Mid-way through the hauling, Liam was sneezing and coughing and he came up to Chris and said: “Dad, I’m allergic to jupiter.” Trying very hard not to laugh, Dad told him: “OK. Well, we won’t send you there then.” From that point juniper will always be known as jupiter in our little family.

The nasty 12 foot arborvitae flanking the entryway are gone. Thanks to some dear friends who came down for a mini working vacation. The bushes were so overgrown and full of bugs. They nearly blocked the entryway completely. Removing them really opened up the porch and enabled me to see the river from my kitchen window. At least I can when the mist hasn’t crept in.

The dark and dirty little cave of a bathroom is gone. In its place is a well-lit, brightly-painted bathroom with handy features like a towel bar and a light over the vanity.

The enormous (and overwhelming) red wall in the front room is gone. In its place is a wonderful soft green (pollywog) wall that we have found the more we live with the more we like. Instead of an abrupt and harsh frame for the view, we have a lovely shade of green that seems more like a continuation of the outside world. Oh, it is very nice.

These are just a few of the ways in which we are slowly but surely making this house our home. I am excited by the images in my mind of the changes another six months will bring.

for Mom/from Mom

My mother died a couple weeks ago after battling lung cancer for several months. I can honestly say I believe she was ready to be done with her mortal coil. Dad passed away five years ago, and Mom missed him so very much. In the end, the confident knowledge the two of them would be reunited in Heaven enabled her to slip peacefully away.


Mom was a strong confident woman. She approached life with a head-on, can-do, no-nonsense attitude and expected everyone else to do the same. As a general rule she was pretty visibly disappointed when/if they didn’t.

Mom had very clear ideas about personal responsibility and behavior. Lessons from Mom were absorbed by her four daughters in ways that worked best for each of us. How my mother ever managed to raise the four such very different personalities that my sisters and I represent is nothing short of miraculous. Some of us had to be more of a challenge for her than others, but Mom was adept at giving us the space to be just who we were and still give us the grounding and sensibilities in her eyes we needed to have.

Mom never accepted “I can’t” as reason for not doing something. Each of us jolly well could and she made damn sure we knew it every second of every day.

My mom’s legacy is a fascinating conglomeration.

When I stand out in my garden surrounded by vegetables, flowers, weeds and all manner of growing things I can easily say . . . this is my legacy from Mom. I can remember when we were young every spring when it came time to start planting, she would have us each select three or four different vegetables which would be “ours” that year to nurture all the way from seed to jar. In this manner we learned how to plant, grow, harvest and process all different sorts of fruits and vegetables. Thank you, Mom.

Then, when I sit down in my craft room, I thank the mother who raised me and taught me how to do all these amazing things. Thanks to Mom:
    I can follow a pattern to make clothing and adjust said pattern to fit.
    I design my own fabric creations and bring them to fruition.
    I take quilts from the design stage all the way to completion/ready to go on a bed.
    I do everything from sewing a simple seam to many more complicated techniques and I know how to use a seam ripper.
    I am capable of both hand embroidery and crochet. (Sorry, Mom, I never could embrace knitting the way you did.)
These are just a small taste of the many, many things our mother taught all four of us girls.

During the course of an average day I can stop myself dozens of times and say: “Thanks Mom.” Thanks for showing me how to do this or that and sometimes even for just making me believe I could even if I didn’t know how. More than anything else, Mom believed in imagination. She believed: If you could imagine it, you could do it.

I think that’s it really.

Mom’s legacy is my inherent belief in myself. The belief that I am capable of tackling just about any project, thought or idea and figuring out a way to bring it to fruition.

Thanks Mom.

String to short to use

10) May 2012: We put our house on the market.

9) July 2012: We find the house we want to live in for the rest of our lives.

8) August 2012: My husband’s father is diagnosed with terminal liver cancer.

7) October 2012: Our offer on the house we want to live in forever expires. The owners give us a six-month extension.

6) January 2013: We receive a low but negotiable offer on our house. After a couple weeks of back and forth, the offer becomes a bit more viable and we accept.

5) early March 2013: My mother is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer.

4) mid March 2013: The new owners close on our house. In the meantime a shingle blows off the roof of the garage and a soon-to-be-ex neighbor tries to throw a wrench in the whole deal. We move all our belongings into storage, our pets into a local kennel and our homeless bodies into a friend’s motor home.

3) late March 2013: My mother begins treatment for cancer. We travel to the house I grew up in to prepare it for market and get Mom ready to move.

2) early April 2013: We get her house on the market and Mom moves to Kansas City to live with my oldest sister. We close on our new house on the same day my father-in-law dies. With the help of a couple of long-time friends and my husband’s co-workers we move all our stuff from storage to the new place.

1) mid April 2013: My husband flies to Chicago for his dad’s funeral while I am furiously unpacking boxes in an attempt to make this house a home.

Welcome to my nightmare. Now you know why I have not written in quite some time. I am still reeling from the stress of it all. HELP!

God & Country

I love God.

I love my country.

That being said, I prefer to live my life quietly. I wear neither my religion nor my patriotism on my sleeve.

I pray for myself and my fellow man. I participate in the events of a local church and attend services regularly.

I fly the flag of the United States of America on a staff at my house. I vote when called upon to do so. I rail against the tendencies of my government to interfere in the aspects of my life where I feel it has no place.

Normally I don’t say much to anyone about either of these particular aspects of my life as I find them both to be quite polarizing for most people. However, events of this past week have had many of the friends in my social media circle screaming about both God and government to the point that I can no longer deny my own strong feelings.

Many are saying the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary happened because our government has kicked God out of our schools. Really? I think that might be crediting our government with more power than it really has. God is in our schools. God is everywhere we are. Contrary to popular belief, God is all powerful, not the US government. If the parents of the children attending our schools have done their jobs and taught their children to love God, then God is with them everywhere they go.

As far as our government allowing or not allowing God in our schools? What does that mean? He’s already there. What the complaint really is is the fact that our government doesn’t allow corporate prayer in our schools. I am OK with that. My son loves God and Jesus. His faith allows him to pray and live a joyful life. Someone else’s child may call God by another name such as Allah or Buddha and have a true love for their faith that gives their life peace and joy. Who am I and who is the US government to deny them that?

This country was based on freedoms and freedom of religion tops the list.

The problem with giving our government the ability to put God in our schools is: whose god should they put in? Yours? Mine? Theirs? Even those of us who call ourselves Christian can’t agree on God.

Some of us believe He is all things to all people and no matter what name He is called, He answers. Others, who also call themselves Christians by the way, believe God is . . . well, to be honest, I don’t know what they believe except that they seem to want us all to conform to their beliefs. In my mind this is not a reasonable expectation. If that’s the god they are wanting in the schools, even I, who call God, God, have a problem with that.

Do I believe God was in Sandy Hook Elementary last week? Yes. I do. My God was there. Weeping at the senseless tragedy of it all. Knowing it was going to happen before the event occurred. Knowing He was going to be called upon to pick up the pieces. Knowing, even as He did in the beginning, the free will He had given His people was going to break His heart. He was there to gather all those souls to Him and take them home.

Was your god there? If not, why not? Because the all-powerful United States government told him to stay away? Do you even know how ridiculous that sounds?

Creamy Cauliflower Soup

1 can chicken broth
1 can water
3 med potatoes, chopped
3 med carrots, chopped
3 c chopped cauliflower
½ c chopped onion
1 t minced garlic
1 t marjoram
½ t dill weed
½ t black pepper
5 T flour
1 c milk
1 c cream
6 oz shredded Monterey Jack cheese
1½-2 c cooked, cubed ham

    Simmer first ten ingredients until vegetables are tender, about 20-25 minutes. Combine milk, cream and flour until smooth. Add to vegetable mixture and cook and stir 2 minutes until thickened. Reduce heat and add cheese and ham. Heat through and serve.
OR
    Throw all ingredients into slow cooker. Cook on low, stirring somewhat frequently. Should take about 7-8 hours give or take. When the vegetables are cooked to your liking, eat it up!

I am not a vet, but I play one on TV

At about 9:30 last night we discovered Malcolm, Liam’s cat, had a sore leg. Liam came downstairs and said, “Mom, Malcolm is hopping on three legs.” I went up to check and sure enough, his left front leg was all swollen and so tender he ‘bout ripped my head off when I probed it a little.

So off to the vet clinic this morning we went. The veterinarian diagnosed him with cellulitis. This is just a sort of non-specific inflammation. At this point there is no clear abscess, so nothing to lance. He sent us home with a bottle of antibiotic.

So I’m preparing to give this amazingly strong 11 pound cat this medicine. I’m supposed to give him 3 ml a day until the bottle is empty.

OK.

I pull the dropper from the bottle and discover it is marked with 12.5 and 25 mg. I have no idea how this translates to ml. As I am pondering this, with the damn cat tucked under my arm. He wildly swings a paw and sends the little bottle of medicine flying. Now the carpet and toy box in Liam’s room are covered with icky sticky medicine. There is none in the cat and none in the bottle.

My work here is done. Goal accomplished. The bottle is empty.

Crap.

Things I love

Finding the joy in life right now is a bit of a struggle. It is temporary, I’m sure, but at times like these it is very difficult to write anything anyone would want to read. No one tunes in here to have their day brought down into the very depths.

Things are happening.

I have discovered the truth in the saying: “The ox is slow, but the earth is patient.” Now if only I could be. Patient, that is.

We put our house on the market a couple weeks ago. No one has even looked at it yet. I suppose I was too optimistic if I thought it would sell in nine days like our neighbor’s place did. Average time on the market is much longer than that. I was hoping we might get lucky although I should know better. Real estate is stressful.

A friend of mine composes a list of 10 things she loves every Thursday. I so admire her for this as here lately the things I love are buried under a heap of difficulties and I can’t even think of one. I’m sure at times hers are, too, but she is pretty faithful to the effort each week.

So in an effort to improve my outlook, here goes:

- My sewingroom. We have placed almost every personal item we own in storage in preparation for showing the house. Only two rooms were not stripped bare, our son’s bedroom and my sewingroom. I told the realtor I would be willing to repaint it, but until we get an offer, that room has to function for me.

 - The flexibility, openness and acceptance we find in our church and pastor. My soul can be at rest there again.

- Our puppy, Finn. He is cute as a button and completely rotten. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who loves him. He barks. He digs. He steals Liam’s toys and takes them out into the yard. At times he is so bad I feel guilty for ever bringing him home in the first place, and I’m sure my husband will make me pay for it forever, but I do love the little blighter.

- My work. I am jumping these days a bit more than I would like, but I do love what I do.

- Our son, Liam. He “graduated” from preschool this week and got and award for being most respectful and honest. We are very proud.

- My car, Sally. She is a 2003 Mustang Convertible. V6. Sonic Blue. Loaded. Prior to Liam coming along, she was my baby and I still love driving this car.

- My husband. I love this man with all my heart and it is a constant and pleasant surprise to me that he seems to love me, too.

- Spending time on the deck. We have a beautiful outside space on the back of our house. If it ever does sell, it’s what I am likely to miss the most.

- The green and coolness of these beautiful spring days.

- Friends, old and new, who love us enough to make an effort to spend time with us when we are in their vicinity. Looking forward to tomorrow!

Little dog you are loved

We have had to face an unwelcome truth this week: our little dog is failing.

Mufasa joined our family in December 1997. He was a 2.3 pound ball of fluff. My husband did not want a dog, but I really, really did. I talked CJE into letting me bring him home with me on a trial run one weekend. He never left. The tiny ball of fluff grew, not much, but some. I think the most he has ever weighed was 6½ pounds. CJE has often called him a “dog-lit,” because he is like a dog, only smaller. He became a sweet, mostly well-mannered little dog. Small enough to be a lap dog, he is altogether cuddly and adorable.

He has been part of our family and a great little dog. He’s quiet and he doesn’t shed. Those have been two huge factors in his favor over the years. He has been attached to me for 14 years. I made a pillow to fit the corner of my serger table and when I am sewing he sleeps right there under my elbow. When I am in my office he sleeps in the wing-backed chair behind me. At night he sleeps in his basket on the floor by my side of the bed. Unless he gets cold. Then he begs to get up on the bed, and slips under the comforter, not the sheet, just the comforter, between CJE and I. If I am in my recliner, he is too. If I get up he follows me. When he can’t find me in the house, he panics and runs from room to room until he locates me.

Last fall he bit our son, Liam. He didn’t mean to and he wasn’t being vicious. Liam startled him, and as Mufasa can’t see or hear anymore, he just lashed out. We have worked with Liam over the winter to not scare the dog, to be nice to the dog, to put a hand on the dog first so he knows you are there and that problem, while not going away, has gotten better.

Unfortunately my sweet little dog has become rather defiant about not going outside to potty. He doesn’t have much fur and hates the cold and wet. So this winter, rather than go outside to potty, he has been sneaking around all over the house to do it. We have had a pet door for several years and he knows how to get himself in and out, he just refuses to do it. This past week has been worse than ever as he has done it twice now right in front of me. I have to be constantly on alert. If he jumps down off my lap I have to watch him like a hawk to make sure he goes outside. I have to leash him to the bed at night so he will wake me if he tries to go anywhere. If I am leaving the house for even 2 minutes I have to kennel him.

I have spent much of the past several days in tears. This is not what I want, and perhaps if I had enough money to throw at the problem, it would go away. However, I feel that would be a lot like putting a Band-aid on a bullet wound. He is 14 years old, the issues are going to keep coming.

The poor little thing can no longer see or hear. This gives him no opportunity to obey. What I want or need him to do no longer matters. I have no way of getting across to him these desires.

As he has indeed been my constant companion for 14 years, this is not a decision I have come to lightly. We will all be devastated and miss him terribly. I feel just horrible about it, but in the end his quality of life has become the determining factor. He now lives in an almost constant and complete state of confusion. He doesn’t understand why he can no longer be loose in the house to come and go as he pleases and because we cannot get anything across to him, he no longer obeys and then subsequently is in trouble.

It has become a matter of trust.

CJE and I have agreed I will spend this coming weekend with my dog. I will give Mufasa a bath and walk him and assure him that he is loved.

CJE says: “Are you sure?”

Well, I both am and I’m not. I’m not simply because I just don’t want to do this at all. I am because I really want my memories of Mufasa to be happy ones. I don’t want the sweet memories of what a great little dog he has been completely colored over by the problems he is having and creating now.

"String too short to use"

10) A good friend sent me a book to read. I read it. I didn’t care for it and have reasons why I didn’t. I do appreciate her sending the book. Do I give her my honest opinion about the book? Or do I just send it back with no comment?

9) We are in the process of mucking out and putting half of our belongings into storage. I know it is true for most everyone, but still it surprises me the accumulation of stuff we have. We are donating piles and piles to a local thrift store, but still there is a lot for storage.

8) Made a cute little round purse in my sewingroom recently. It is a pattern I want to use for one of my five this year. I found the pattern to be a bit tricky as by the time you get to the final seams that attach the front and back to the sides the overall thickness is considerable. I am now studying the pattern to determine if there is a better way to finish the purse and avoid this unwieldy thickness.

7) January is finally over. January is always a crazy-busy month for me and this year was no exception. I actually think it was crazier than ever before, or maybe my memory is failing. Between having almost a whole week of snow days and trying to keep up with my four-year old, I have reached the end of January both mentally and physically exhausted. And, unfortunately, no real recovery time in sight. Damn.

6) I hope my faithful readers, if I have any, haven’t completely given up on me. I know it has been a long time since I have written anything. I read several blogs that are shared. First one person writes and then another, so the blog has new postings every day but no one person has to be on top of the ball each and every day. Hummm. Something to think about, although I don’t share all that well.

5) They tell me the groundhog will come out tomorrow and have a look around. I wouldn’t mind a shorter winter this year, so can we get that message to ol’ Pace Picante Phil?

4) My son is rapidly outgrowing his toddler bed. This breaks my heart as his Granddad, my dad, made it for him. Dad died 3½ years ago and Liam only remembers him because we show him pictures and talk to him about his Granddad. We are putting the bed in storage, but I wish we didn’t have to. He is growing so very fast.

3) Just going to give a little nibble about the new quilt I started. Naturally it is for Liam’s soon to be new twin bed. This quilt is a step out of my coordinated-color comfort zone. It is quite unique and I am having loads of fun with it. I have started a blog entry to tell more about it and post some pictures. Stay tuned. Aren’t I a tease?

2) I am doing the pay-it-forward on facebook again this year. I had so much fun with it last year, I just had to do it again. I only have one person from last year that managed to get on again this year, so I have an almost  whole new crop of friends to make something homemade for. I have ideas and two projects cut out already. Yea!

1) If you could have known someone as a child that you now know, who would it be?

So very proud of my son

My son Liam is four. He is attending preschool now and loving every minute of it. Forgive a mother's pride, but I just had to share this:

Liam's Preschool Christmas Program

He did so good and even managed to help the little boy next to him stay focused. It brought tears to my eyes. He's one-of-a-kind and such a good boy.

Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy.

According to a facebook friend: We are all supposed to pretend that life doesn’t suck, even occasionally, and nothing bad ever happens in our lives. Because she is unable or unwilling to deal with anything negative, I’m supposed to act as though my life is constantly, consistently good and I never need the help and support of my friends, because God-dammit, life is perfect.

So don’t post anything negative on facebook, cause she just doesn’t want to know about it.

Wow. I believe that to be a much larger burden than I really want to put on the people I call friends: You all must be happy and positive at all times, because I just don’t wish to deal with any of your sadness or gloom. Huh? Now how does that make me your friend?

Don’t get me wrong. I agree trying to stay positive and upbeat is a good thing. However, the expectation that people should not let their friends know when life is sucky is completely unrealistic and confining. While general whinyness should not be tolerated, when someone I know has had a bad day or a real situation of struggle in their life, I’m gonna hold up my hand and say: “STOP! I don’t want to hear it. Cause I just don’t want to have to cope with ANYTHING negative.” Again, huh?

Would that really make me a good friend?

Generally speaking I embrace the positive aspects of life. Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you, my outlook is generally positive and my expectation is for life to be perfect. Although I am frequently disappointed in the perfection side of things, I still keep going there time after time.

That being said, just like everyone else, I occasionally experience a bad day, week or whatever. Every single one of us has rough patches in our lives. Don’t we?

So some (I reserve the right to add/ask more) of my questions are:

   If I am overwhelmed at times by an ugly turn my life has taken, even if momentarily, should I hesitate to reach out to those who purport to love me?

   Why should I not let my friends know?

   I am a strong person, but am I not on occasion entitled to ask for and receive the love and encouragement of my friends?

   I am unbelievably humbled to find I have friends in my life who would willingly take a bullet for me if it meant sparing me anguish and pain. However, if they don’t know I am troubled, how can they get in the line of fire?

   Besides all that, don’t friends like to help friends?

   Isn’t that what being a friend is all about?

   Where would I be without my friends?

   How would I get through the dark times and back into the sunlight without them?

   I should hide my feelings and hurts inside so nobody knows they exist? I’m sure that would be a big boon to my mental health.

I thought they were my friends.

Friends love.

Friends support.

Friends have the shoulders I cry on when bad things happen and when life gets overwhelming.

Friends divide burdens and multiply joy.

If I insist on only happiness from myself and my friends, I am neither being a good friend, nor letting them be.

More "string too short to use"

10) After about 16 months of no naps, Liam has fallen asleep in the afternoon three days this week. This scares me because it probably means a growth spurt soon. Day after tomorrow his shoes all of a sudden won’t go on his feet. Overnight his pants will become too short and half of the T-shirts in his dresser will no longer go over his head. Joy.

9) I love my sisters. That being said; I’ve always wanted a brother. I always thought it would be nice to have a big brother to stick up for me and help me out of jams. All of ya’all out there with brothers, be thankful for them.

8) “Being taken for granted can be a compliment. It means that you've become a comfortable, trusted element in another person's life.” - Dr Joyce Brothers. You know what, Dr Joyce, you can just kiss my ass. Being taken for granted is not a compliment. Being taken for granted means you’ve become invisible. All the things you do just happen and no one knows or cares why or how unless you stop doing them.

7) A friend of mine posted on facebook she needed a dress hemmed. Well, I can hem a dress so I told her to come on by. HA. It is a triple-layered wedding dress. The outer layer is chiffon and is about 17 miles around. The two under layers are slippery lining fabric and are each only about 8.5 miles around. Can I do it? Yes. Will it be a fun chore? No. However, it will be done on time and beautifully finished cause that’s how I roll.

6) I thought of something last night to add to this just as I was getting into bed. It is gone. I knew I should have come down here and written it right then. My brain is definitely not what it once was.

5) Our little boy loves to dance. In the past week I have been treated with the dance of the Mary Poppins penguins (They wiggle their butts you know.) and a little naked Cha-Cha-Cha in the living room. Hysterical. I definitely have to get some video of the penguin dance. The naked Cha-Cha-Cha would probably get me arrested.

4) The weather was pleasant yesterday, so we spent the bulk of the day outside and in the garage doing some fall clean up and harvesting herbs. I rebuilt a flower bed that our plum tree had almost pushed over this past year. We defrosted and reorganized the freezer so I would know what is there and can plan menus accordingly. CJE took the leaf-blower to the leaves which had accumulated on the deck. He also sprayed the weeds poking through the sidewalk. Liam rode his bicycle and demonstrated his four-year-old underfoot skills. All in all it was a glorious fall day.

3) When we came in from outside yesterday I took a look at my To-Do List for the day. Except for the freezer, none of what we did was on the list. How frustrating! I so enjoy the satisfaction of crossing off the things we have accomplished. I have even been known to write down things I have already done just so I can check them off. That being the case, I quickly wrote “make raspberry jam” on the list as I had decided after going through the freezer, a couple packages of raspberries in there were looking a little sad and needed to be used. So I made jam in the afternoon, cause it was on the list, you know. Come on, I gotta be able to check off something!

2) Sometimes a mom just needs a quiet moment. So here I am, it is Sunday morning and much as I know CJE would have liked me to come to church with him and Liam; I am taking my moment of peace. Oftentimes this is the only way/time I can get one. I miss going to church, but this time of quiet renewal counts for more. I’m sorry it is this way, but it is.

1) If you had to name the one personality trait that you have tried the hardest to change in yourself, what would you say?

"String too short to use"

10) One of my on-again-off-again clients is on again. He got a nasty-gram from the Oregon Department of Revenue informing him he darned well better get his taxes filed for the last four years. His wife saw the letter and ‘bout had a panic attack. She doesn’t understand why ODR would care. “We don’t owe them any money,” she says to me. Well, Honey, you might not, but they have no way of knowing that. Plus they are likely to ding you like crazy in penalties simply for neglecting to file for the past four years. The bad side of this is I have been working 50+ hours a week trying to get them caught up. The good side is, our savings account will be nice and fat going into the holidays.

9) I am so very ready to put my lawn and gardens to bed. Yea fall!
       
8) I am thankful to have a few friends in my life who really get me. Friends who understand where I’m coming from even when my words don’t come out right are so rare and valuable. True kindred spirits are out there. When you find one, you don’t have to worry about losing them, they just become a part of your life forever.

7) Liam’s latest thing: Whenever we tell him he needs a bath he’ll say, “Smell me, Mom (or Dad).” Except that it comes out sounding like, “Sell me, Mom (or Dad).” And I can’t help but think each time he says it; we’ll never get any takers. We’d have to pay someone to take you, you little twirp.

6) My sister, Karen, recently posted online some pictures of my grandparents’ old place. Whoa. Talk about nostalgia. It is so funny, because they lived in the tiniest little house, and we used to all go there for Sunday dinners and holidays and the like. The main floor of their house couldn’t have been more than 1000 square feet (and probably less), but all their kids, kid-in-laws, grandkids and assorted friends would jam in there, at times more than 24 of us. I tell you, it must have been standing room only. Ahh. Good times.

5) I woke this morning without a headache. This is a rare, but good, thing.

4) No two women in the world are shaped alike. Apparently many women my size have boobs much larger than mine, boobs which have gravitated downward over the years. That combined with the fact that I’m not very tall in the first place, makes darts and shaped seams in ready-to-wear clothing a complete joke. Unfortunately that means I am doomed to wear shapeless, tentlike items of clothing which are oh, so flattering. Joy. The solution is, if I really want it to fit, I must make it myself. What can I say; I’m working on it, but tailoring clothing is tricky business. The failures seem somehow to outweigh the successes. I shall endeavor to persevere.

3) Coffee = elixir of the gods.

2) Today is Sunday. I am putting Pizza Soup in the slow-cooker this morning and then curling under my latest quilt project to handsew its binding and watch football. I also have some buttons to sew on a shirt for CJE. I’ll keep my Kindle within reach for when I get both of those done. I would say I would nap in the afternoon, but my little boy is determined none of us shall nap, least of all himself. I’m sorry if the NFL turns some of my readers off, but I love it.

1) If you could stop everyone from misusing/overusing one word in the English language, what would it be?

(For me it would be “awesome.” I hear this word used in regard to a whole lot of things that might be great, they may be super, they might even be phenomenal, but they are not really awe inspiring. Very little in this world is truly awesome. The panoramic vista of God’s creation inspires awe. The miraculous perfection of a newborn’s tiny hand is awesome. My car, while fantastic and something I am crazy about, is not awesome. Meeting a friend for lunch would be fun, it might even be great fun, but would it really be awesome? It would be nice if people understood the difference.)

Creamy Chicken Corn Chowder

This is not a low-fat soup. If low-fat is your preference, I recommend you steer clear of chowders in general and mine in particular. That being said, this is the yummiest, most comforting soup you will ever eat.

The recipe:

1 can chicken broth

1 c water

3 med potatoes, chopped

3 med carrots, chopped

3 c frozen corn kernels

1 t minced garlic

½ t marjoram

½ t thyme

½ t black pepper

5 T flour

1½ c milk

½ c cream

6 oz Velveeta, cubed

1½ c cooked, cubed chicken

    Simmer first 9 ingredients until potatoes and carrots are tender, about 20-25 minutes. Combine milk, cream and flour until smooth. Add to vegetable mixture and cook and stir 2 minutes until thickened. Reduce heat and add cheese and chicken. Heat through and serve.

                                                 OR

    Throw all ingredients into slow cooker. Cook on low, stirring somewhat frequently. Should take about 7-8 hours give or take. When the potatoes and carrots are cooked to your liking, eat it up!

I started with a recipe from a cookbook and tailored it to fit our tastes. That, to me, is what cooking is all about. So I want each of you to feel free to take this recipe and make it your own.

Our son, Liam, loves carrots so although the original recipe didn't call for them, I threw them in. Not only are they yummy, but they add a nice color to a soup that is otherwise quite bland looking.

We like a nice thick chowder so I increased the chunky bits (potatoes, corn, carrots) and slightly decreased the the liquid elements.

Enjoy!

Am I proud of my boy? You bet!

After kind of a rough start at preschool, Liam has figured out how to live with rules laid down by someone other than Mom and Dad and is doing great.

I dropped him off on the first day, August 30, and he was just fine. "Go Mom," he said.

When I arrived back to the school that afternoon to pick him up, Mrs. Eaker, his teacher, came out to tell me he did really well until the last two minutes of class when he hit the little girl sitting next to him. So Mrs. Eaker took his candy away and made him put his head down on the desk. And, she said, "He is quite upset about the whole thing." When he came out into the hallway he was just sobbing his little heart out, big ol' tears and the works. I waited until all the other kids were gone to chat with the teacher for a minute and Liam told her, again, that he was sorry. Not the best first day. Mrs. Eaker did, however, tell me that she didn't see it happen, but that when she asked him if he hit Courtney, he admitted that he did. So . . . at least he didn't lie.

Naturally on the way home he announced: "Mom, I'm not going to school tomorrow."

I assured him that yes, he was going to school the next day, but that tomorrow was a new day with no mistakes in it. He would be starting new and fresh and clean.

After school the next day he informed me: "Mom, I did not hit her today." He made it sound like maybe she needed to be hit, but that he didn't do it. What restraint!

The next week the teacher put six little paper bees on the wall under each kid's name. The goal is for them to keep all their bees. If they are bad and get into trouble then the teacher takes away their bees. Liam decided right away he didn't want to lose any bees. So on each afternoon since the bee program started he tells me when I pick him up, "Mom, I didn't lose any bees today." He is also very quick to point out other little boys who have lost bees. One day one little boy had only two bees left! Shocking!

This week Courtney has been gone. Liam told me on Monday she was gone and he didn't know where she was. Then yesterday on the way home he told me he hoped Courtney hadn't "gone to be with Jesus" cause he missed her and wanted her back at school. Today I asked the teacher if Courtney was sick and was she coming back because my little soft-hearted boy missed her. She and I had a good chuckle over how quickly he went from wanting to swat Courtney to wanting her there in the seat next to him. Turns out Courtney went on vacation with her family and will be back next week.

Mrs. Eaker told me several things today that made me feel pretty good about my little boy:

She is keeping an extra close eye on him because Liam doesn't tattle. Now in my mind not tattling is a good thing, but she is concerned that he wouldn't tattle even if the other kids were really being mean, so she is watching out for him. He is the smallest boy in the class, and she is extra careful about bullying. This I definitely appreciate.

She thought at first he might not be ready for preschool, but she says he definitely is. He is intelligent. He is also very well-spoken and extremely polite.

These are her words, not mine!

All I can say is apparently he hasn't yet had reason to tell her: "You're bustin' my chops!"

I wonder if he knows that would likely lose him a bee?

Laughter is good for the soul

For the past several days I have been feeling a restlessness that cannot be explained.

I can't seem to settle in to my normal tasks and I have been having the most bizarre dreams.

In one dream I was forced to run through a giant drawer full of silverware. The divisions between the items were about three feet high, just a bit too tall for me to step over. Someone had me by the hand and was dragging me through them at a run. In my other hand was silverware of my own which I kept dropping and having to stop and pick up. It would blend in with the existing silverware in the drawer and then I couldn't find it. For whatever reason it was very important that I not lose the silverware I was carrying. As the dream went on I became more and more frantic as I wasn't given a chance to relocate my own silverware. So bizarre.

Then last night I dreamt I was the caretaker for this older gentleman. When I got to his house to make his dinner, straighten up the house and give him his medicine some of his family was there visiting. As I was cleaning up around the house I kept finding silverware in all these strange places. Some was under the sofa, tucked under the covers of the bed, inside the washer and dryer and other equally odd spots. Weird. As I was checking in this one particularly frilly bedroom I discovered a flight of stairs I had not previously noticed following the line of the wall to the second floor. They were only about 18 inches wide, covered with rose print fabric and had no handrail. I went up a few steps, but chickened out and came back down. As I regained the bottom one of the man's sons came into the room and chastised me for being in there. I told him I was just trying to locate all the silverware and showed him the handfuls I was carrying. As we exited the room we ran into another of the sons who was carrying a ladies' pump (you know the shoe kind). It was about three feet long and painted bright green. He told me he was looking for a place in his dad's house where it would look "right." He then proceeded to tell me he had two more at home he was planning on painting blue and yellow respectively and that I needed to be thinking about a nice place for them as well. Huh?

I can't decide if I am truly losing it or what.

My husband says he thinks our dreams are just the psyche's way of taking out the trash. We fall asleep at night and if the day has been particularly stressful or whatever, the brain starts getting rid of the unnecessary stuff and it comes out as these strange and unexplainable images that most of the time we can't even remember. Usually when I do remember them I end up wishing I couldn't because they are so absolutely nutty and disconnected that when I tell someone about them I just sound like a blithering idiot. These two were so bizarrely funny I just had to share. I'm sure some dream-interpreter person could tell me what they really mean, but I think in this case I would rather be comfortable in my ignorance. I just found them good for a chuckle first thing in the morning.

Things I love, autumn

Fall has arrived.

Autumn is my very most favorite time of year.

There is a chill in the air and no matter how hot it might still get, that underlying chill will still be there. The air has a crispness when I breathe it and a sweet, sweet coolness on my skin. Our air conditioner is shut off for the season, and that too, is a good thing.

The autumn sky is a deeper blue. In place of the pale, cloudless, high clear blue of summer, we see a brighter, more colorful blue . . . with clouds!

Life slows down in the fall. Schedules become more important. Therefore, plans are less likely to go askew. Because I am a planner, I have a huge appreciation for this aspect of fall. Summer is a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of season; autumn is all about organization and planning.

Preparation for winter begins. Summer toys are put away and gardens and flowers will be put to bed over the next few weeks. Trees will turn to yellow, gold, orange and red giving the landscape a brightness summer could never achieve. When the leaves finally drop to the ground, Liam will spend many a happy hour dashing through them, throwing them high and jumping into the piles CJE has painstakingly created in preparation for their doom.

Liam has started preschool. Though he had a little trouble on the first day, overall he seems to be liking it and that gives me great joy. Watching him learn and grow has become one of my favorite pastimes. This fall in particular will be great for that. He will enjoy a whole set of experiences that Mom and Dad are not a part of. This will give him new scope for his lively imagination and new reasons for him to say: “Mom, I need to tell you.”

The Nation Football League season starts this Thursday. I understand for some people this is not a cause for elation, but in our home, it is. Football season is one thing which seems to help our lives to slow from summer’s frantic pace. Sunday afternoons are spent alternately sewing and snoozing in front of the game . . . oh, and watching! I know the rules and truly enjoy the game. For reasons unknown to me, whiling away a Sunday afternoon watching football is guilt-free, and I certainly like that.

Naturally, in the fall my thoughts turn to Christmas. Which is, by the way, right around the corner. Crafty projects must be planned and started now or before if completion is expected by December 25. Always I have several and this year I started clear back in May. Most therefore are well on their way and I will have the satisfaction of finishing them over the next few months.

Autumn is a time of harvest and preservation. I have made jam and syrup already. Just today I started a batch of Zucchini Relish. It needs to steep overnight and I will finish it up tomorrow. I chatted with my neighbor yesterday and I think she and I are going to can up some tomatoes together in the next few weeks. She has always used a pressure canner and I am going to show her how to water-bath them. My mom has always liked the preserving part but has never much cared for the harvest. I have grown to enjoy the harvest as well. Picking a bucketful of whatever brings a welcome sense of satisfaction and then I have the completion of preserving to look forward to. See, I have many good autumn feelings.

Cooking is my most enjoyed household task, and soup is one of my favorite thing to make. Fall is a great time of year for crock pot recipes and soups, stews and chilies top that list. Just a few days ago I tried yet another recipe for Chicken Corn Chowder. I love Chicken Corn Chowder and have been looking for a really good recipe for it literally for years. I think I finally found it! This soup was creamy, thick and full of flavor. Oh, so yummy. It is definitely a keeper and all other recipes I have tried and tweaked and messed with can just go away. Yea! I predict many more varieties of soup to be created in my kitchen in the not too distant future.

I’m not sure this is a truly comprehensive list of what I love about fall, but it is a great start.