1. Nora and I are at Grandma's house. She's beside me right now and appears to be suffering from "toddler insomnia." Luckily I found a bedtime mix on youtube, and we're "mellowing" out to it right now. "Hello, darkness, my old friend..." The muzak version of "The Sound of Silence" plays as Nora attempts to breathe through her plugged-up nose. Why does this song choice seem like a cruel gesture on a bedtime song mix? Maybe a quick google of the lyrics will help me uncover why I'm intuitively cautious of falling asleep to this song. Oh, it's because it's about a nightmare. Right.
2. I ate nachos and chicken strips for lunch at the Spur today. They were both awesome and disgusting.
3. Uh oh. This sleepytime mix is starting to get to me. Must...resist...relaxation...still so much to do tonight...
4. I watched a movie last night called Sweetgrass that followed a sheep ranching operation up in Montana. I say "up" as if I'm still living in Colorado. I should say "over yonder." That's better. I loved it even when we get to the last few minutes and one of the hands is standing on top of a pile of dead brush trying to get some cell reception and complaining to his mom. "I can't do it. I can't do it another night. They won't stay in place and I've only got one dog and he's been running so long he doesn't have any skin left on his paws and my knee keeps cracking every time I walk. I go to sleep at 11 and I'm up all night because these bastards won't stay where I put them and I'm starting to hate these mountains and I don't want to hate these mountains..." He goes on and on like this for about 10 minutes (saying words I'd never speak to my mama), and while you can't hear her voice in the background, I'm sure she's doing exactly what I do when Nora feels like letting off some steam. She's just listening and being present and waiting for him to run out of things to complain about, and once he can't think of one more thing that stinks about being on top of some of the most beautiful mountains I've ever seen, he'll do just what she thought he'd do: his dissatisfaction will exhaust itself leaving only that clean, washed out sigh that says, "Well, all right then. I feel better now."
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Something You Might Need to Hear
"Life is hard sometimes--crazy, mixed-up, messed up. And there you are, in the middle of it all just doing your thing...being strong and brave and beautiful like it's no big deal. But let me tell you, girl, it is. Not everyone can do what you can do. Not everyone can handle things the way you can. While you wonder sometimes if you're doing ok...the rest of us are just watching in wonder."
This is for you.
This is for you.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Counting Them
Taking down the garlic that has long cured hanging from the window, snipping the dry stalk away, rubbing thumb along dirt skin to reveal the skeleton white of the bulbs, one side to eat, the other to replant.
A girl with wings in her heart climbs always.
A scavenger hunt to find the knee-staining dandelion, worm-bitten apple, red cherry tomato, yellowing leaf, purple flower from butterfly garden, seeds as we fill the bird feeders. This natural adventure worth living always in the clear vision of September air.
Where humor lifts us daily with the reminder to enjoy this life. "Would you like a hot dog for lunch, Nora?" "You mean, like this, Mommy?" she asks giggling through an attempted straight face.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Wow, so this is what it's like to take a day of rest. Thumbs up.
Slow waking with coffee then dressed for church (a miracle in itself as it would be easier to get a porcupine into a tuxedo than it is to get Nora ready in the morning).
Communion even after I wasn't sure it would happen when Nora starts to panic in the pews and I pick her up explaining she can't talk when pastor is talking. I see a tray of cookies waiting for everyone post-service and I sneak one with M & M's knowing that what this kid needs is food. I hold her as she cries and eats her cookie, swaying right outside the doors of the church. She finishes the last bite, takes a deep breath, and I carry her back in, sitting beside our friends, walking up and kneeling, the purple and yellow light on the floor a sign that I made it.
Coffee in a mug on the road after Sunday School and Bible study directly to Grandma's house we go.
An entire afternoon of sitting on Mom's porch crocheting dishcloths while the cousins play in the sandbox.
Helping Mom dust and refill her pottery store. Nora picks out a pie bird and I pick out a pie plate, homemade potter's clay in the color of ivory earth. The peaches, a gift from a friend whose girls picked over 39 pounds at a local orchard, soon to become a pie. My first. Unbelievable.
Holding a baby and the slow rock as he drinks his bottle and I see the trees and blue reflecting in his eyes from above and he is seeing heaven and I see heaven in the eyes of a child.
A meal cooked listening to Ella Fitzgerald, slowly as the onions turn golden, the garden tomatoes all red and golden working down to a sauce poured over chicken and noodles and fresh mozzarella. Eating mindful at the table dreaming of what I'll do with the carrots in the garden--Asian carrot pickles.
Watching Phineas and Ferb with Nora cuddled on the couch. (I rearranged again, making a little corner office space behind the couch. Everything works perfectly especially with a little jazz playing).
Reading and guffawing at The Cat Who Wore a Pot on Her Head, snuggling to sleep, a bath of lavender and sea salt and candles lit inside antique blue canning jars. Reading. And now to curl up on the couch and watch I Dream of Jeannie, naturally.
Communion even after I wasn't sure it would happen when Nora starts to panic in the pews and I pick her up explaining she can't talk when pastor is talking. I see a tray of cookies waiting for everyone post-service and I sneak one with M & M's knowing that what this kid needs is food. I hold her as she cries and eats her cookie, swaying right outside the doors of the church. She finishes the last bite, takes a deep breath, and I carry her back in, sitting beside our friends, walking up and kneeling, the purple and yellow light on the floor a sign that I made it.
Coffee in a mug on the road after Sunday School and Bible study directly to Grandma's house we go.
An entire afternoon of sitting on Mom's porch crocheting dishcloths while the cousins play in the sandbox.
Helping Mom dust and refill her pottery store. Nora picks out a pie bird and I pick out a pie plate, homemade potter's clay in the color of ivory earth. The peaches, a gift from a friend whose girls picked over 39 pounds at a local orchard, soon to become a pie. My first. Unbelievable.
Holding a baby and the slow rock as he drinks his bottle and I see the trees and blue reflecting in his eyes from above and he is seeing heaven and I see heaven in the eyes of a child.
A meal cooked listening to Ella Fitzgerald, slowly as the onions turn golden, the garden tomatoes all red and golden working down to a sauce poured over chicken and noodles and fresh mozzarella. Eating mindful at the table dreaming of what I'll do with the carrots in the garden--Asian carrot pickles.
Watching Phineas and Ferb with Nora cuddled on the couch. (I rearranged again, making a little corner office space behind the couch. Everything works perfectly especially with a little jazz playing).
Reading and guffawing at The Cat Who Wore a Pot on Her Head, snuggling to sleep, a bath of lavender and sea salt and candles lit inside antique blue canning jars. Reading. And now to curl up on the couch and watch I Dream of Jeannie, naturally.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Living More with Less
As you know, my Grandma Smith saved empty butter paper wrappers and used them to grease her pans. At the end of a meal, if there was a tablespoon of corn left in the bowl, she would add it to her vegetable soup container in the freezer--a Parkay cup with leftover peas, corn, green beans, each small spoonful eventually adding up until she would brown the ground beef and add her veggies proudly to the pot, a whole meal appearing from something we would have just thrown away.
For a while now, I've been searching for and attempting to live a life that uses every available gift, knowing that God has promised that even in hard times, He will shelter and feed us. So, this post is simply to share a few of the ways I've found to live more with less.
After Jesus feeds 5000 with 5 barley loaves and two fish, he says, "Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost." The only time I ever saw Grandma on the verge of becoming angry was in relation to her pot holders. My Grandma has probably made over 5 billion potholders, all put together with layers and layers of leftover cloth from her larger sewing projects. Once I said to her, "Grandma, do your think you can use all of these pot holders?" Her voice was almost shaking when she said, "Jesus told us not to waste a single thing, and I won't throw away that fabric."
My life is made of such fragments. But this is another blog post for another day. Right now, I simply want to share with you a few ways I've found to "gather the fragments" so nothing goes to waste. I just want to say these aren't "new" ideas. They aren't "trendy" or "modern" or anything other than what a lot of people have been doing for a long time, just calling it "common sense."
1. Compost, recycle, feed your leftovers to the animals you own. Since I've started doing this, I was able to cancel my trash service, taking a single bag of trash a week to add to mom's pile. Not only am I saving money, but the farm cats are healthy and happy and the garden is flourishing. I may add that out here in the country, if it's beyond repair, you just burn it so it doesn't take up space in your life or on the ground you could be using for other things. I don't recommend this for any of you folks in dorm rooms or apartment complexes. (There's a reason they're called "complex.")
2. Mend your clothes and don't be afraid of wearing second-hand or hand-me-downs. Most of Nora's wardrobe has been worn by at least 4 cousins before actually reaching her closet. And the secret to why I always look so groovy? Et. Cetera and not being afraid of wearing clothing made in the 70's.
3. Grow a garden and save what you grow. Can it. Freeze it. I will be eating all year off of 40 bucks of seeds and a 20 x 30 foot patch of dirt.
4. Save your seeds. Next year, I'll only need to spend 10 bucks.
5. Don't throw out those envelopes that come with your bills. I haven't had to purchase envelopes in a long time. (I should mention here, I do pay my bills. Online.)
6. Grandma always had a box of paper we'd use for playing "Dictionary" or drawing the pretty princess profiles of girls she loved to draw. Any paper I get from school that has a blank back, I cut it in four and throw it in the paper box. I haven't had to buy a notepad in...I can't even remember.
7. Make your own cleaning supplies. Buy a box of baking soda, Borax, and a gallon of vinegar. You can do all your cleaning with these three ingredients, you'll pay about 8 bucks for all of it, and it will last 6 months. If you're interested in the recipes, let me know. Oh, and all these cleaning supplies are edible. Bonus!
8. Keep a bag in the freezer to save the crusts you cut off of all those sandwiches, and every year you can use them in your Thanksgiving stuffing. Seriously. This is symbolic in so many ways.
9. Shop at Et. Cetera. (or your local second-hand stores) before running to Walmart. My books, my decorations, furniture, clothing, Nora's books and movies, silverware, VCR--75% of what I own came from Et. Cetera. Videos start at 50 cents and children's books range from 10-75 cents.
Okay. This is getting a bit long. I'll say "good night" for now and invite you to share any "gathering the fragment" ideas with me here.
God's peace is abundant.
For a while now, I've been searching for and attempting to live a life that uses every available gift, knowing that God has promised that even in hard times, He will shelter and feed us. So, this post is simply to share a few of the ways I've found to live more with less.
After Jesus feeds 5000 with 5 barley loaves and two fish, he says, "Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost." The only time I ever saw Grandma on the verge of becoming angry was in relation to her pot holders. My Grandma has probably made over 5 billion potholders, all put together with layers and layers of leftover cloth from her larger sewing projects. Once I said to her, "Grandma, do your think you can use all of these pot holders?" Her voice was almost shaking when she said, "Jesus told us not to waste a single thing, and I won't throw away that fabric."
My life is made of such fragments. But this is another blog post for another day. Right now, I simply want to share with you a few ways I've found to "gather the fragments" so nothing goes to waste. I just want to say these aren't "new" ideas. They aren't "trendy" or "modern" or anything other than what a lot of people have been doing for a long time, just calling it "common sense."
1. Compost, recycle, feed your leftovers to the animals you own. Since I've started doing this, I was able to cancel my trash service, taking a single bag of trash a week to add to mom's pile. Not only am I saving money, but the farm cats are healthy and happy and the garden is flourishing. I may add that out here in the country, if it's beyond repair, you just burn it so it doesn't take up space in your life or on the ground you could be using for other things. I don't recommend this for any of you folks in dorm rooms or apartment complexes. (There's a reason they're called "complex.")
2. Mend your clothes and don't be afraid of wearing second-hand or hand-me-downs. Most of Nora's wardrobe has been worn by at least 4 cousins before actually reaching her closet. And the secret to why I always look so groovy? Et. Cetera and not being afraid of wearing clothing made in the 70's.
3. Grow a garden and save what you grow. Can it. Freeze it. I will be eating all year off of 40 bucks of seeds and a 20 x 30 foot patch of dirt.
4. Save your seeds. Next year, I'll only need to spend 10 bucks.
5. Don't throw out those envelopes that come with your bills. I haven't had to purchase envelopes in a long time. (I should mention here, I do pay my bills. Online.)
6. Grandma always had a box of paper we'd use for playing "Dictionary" or drawing the pretty princess profiles of girls she loved to draw. Any paper I get from school that has a blank back, I cut it in four and throw it in the paper box. I haven't had to buy a notepad in...I can't even remember.
7. Make your own cleaning supplies. Buy a box of baking soda, Borax, and a gallon of vinegar. You can do all your cleaning with these three ingredients, you'll pay about 8 bucks for all of it, and it will last 6 months. If you're interested in the recipes, let me know. Oh, and all these cleaning supplies are edible. Bonus!
8. Keep a bag in the freezer to save the crusts you cut off of all those sandwiches, and every year you can use them in your Thanksgiving stuffing. Seriously. This is symbolic in so many ways.
9. Shop at Et. Cetera. (or your local second-hand stores) before running to Walmart. My books, my decorations, furniture, clothing, Nora's books and movies, silverware, VCR--75% of what I own came from Et. Cetera. Videos start at 50 cents and children's books range from 10-75 cents.
Okay. This is getting a bit long. I'll say "good night" for now and invite you to share any "gathering the fragment" ideas with me here.
God's peace is abundant.
Friday, September 2, 2011
When Thankful Showed Up
1. Being able to articulate what it is I love so much about Nebraska. We joke about the T-shirt that says, "Nebraska. Bring Something to Do" and in the process come to understand that Nebraska is like this grand canvas of possibility and potential where your "something" can finally breathe, develop some roots, stretch in all directions.
2. Breaded green beans and jalapeno poppers. You know, I guess I'm just thankful for breading. I'd eat a rolodex if someone breaded it.
3. Tomato, mozzarella, basil grilled sandwiches with cheese that stretches from the plate to your mouth.
4. Sharing. You know. Stuff. Sharing stuff. That's one way to be thankful for it: give it away. Share your toys, your food, your home, your love, your heart, your story, your pain, your ideas, your questions.
5. Sisters. I have so many in my life stretching hands in a chain that makes this place stronger like that Coke commercial where they teach the world to sing. Why not?
6. Thinking someone is breaking into the house and realizing it's just Henrietta the Hamster chewing on a dried banana chip. I almost had to break out the...uh...karate. Yeah. That's the ticket. I know karate. And how to break dance, which might be even more intimidating.
7. Simple things: a daughter, a place to live, a job that puts more than just food on the table, actual food, water, a church down the road, a good school for Nora, playgrounds, and hamsters with banana chips.
2. Breaded green beans and jalapeno poppers. You know, I guess I'm just thankful for breading. I'd eat a rolodex if someone breaded it.
3. Tomato, mozzarella, basil grilled sandwiches with cheese that stretches from the plate to your mouth.
4. Sharing. You know. Stuff. Sharing stuff. That's one way to be thankful for it: give it away. Share your toys, your food, your home, your love, your heart, your story, your pain, your ideas, your questions.
5. Sisters. I have so many in my life stretching hands in a chain that makes this place stronger like that Coke commercial where they teach the world to sing. Why not?
6. Thinking someone is breaking into the house and realizing it's just Henrietta the Hamster chewing on a dried banana chip. I almost had to break out the...uh...karate. Yeah. That's the ticket. I know karate. And how to break dance, which might be even more intimidating.
7. Simple things: a daughter, a place to live, a job that puts more than just food on the table, actual food, water, a church down the road, a good school for Nora, playgrounds, and hamsters with banana chips.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
These are Good Times, Good Times Indeed
When I'm in class, Mom comes to our house and does all these super cool projects with Nora. Here they are doing a study of chicks.
Good Time #2
I can't even describe the joy that is chili pepper peach jelly.
Good Time #3
Watching the seeds you planted back in April finally bloom. Morning glory, hello! Some of the birdseed swept to the side produced a fairly good crop of milo in the flower beds. I like how it looks, so there it stays.
Good Time #4
Pick a pepper. Sugar, vinegar, salt. I was driving home today seriously wondering what I would be forced to eat once the garden folds over.
Good Time #5
Human cannonball with Nora. Here's a visual of yesterday's shenanigans.
Good Time #6
Playing ball with Nora before preschool.
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