Living-Deliberately.com

Two of our favorite little stories around here are If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and If You Give a Pig a Pancake. The kids and daddy put together this version tonight:

If You Make Tia Go To Walmart

If You make Tia go to Walmart,

she will start to cry.

When she starts to cry she’ll park far away and,

she will have to dodge at least five cars.

When she makes it into the store,

she will check her list to determine which way she goes.

Then she’ll realize they are restocking the shelves in every aisle and in all different places than they were before.

When she finds the first thing on her list,

she will feel determined and go onto the next.

She’ll probably realize there are a few things missing from her list and have to be added.

When she gets all of this,

she’ll want to go ahead and get the groceries to save a trip out.

She’ll start fuming at Genetically Modified Food and MSG.

She might even get carried away and start saying things out loud.

She might even make you want to pretend not to be with her!

When she’s numb from the over-stimulation and has just realized that three things on her list are a football field back in the other direction,

she will start to cry.

You’ll have to get her a tissue and talk softly about just getting it done and out.

She’ll feel better that someone close to her doesn’t buy into the Walmart hype.

She’ll probably ask you to go back and get those things a football field away.

So you get them for her and she’ll make it all the way to Produce.

When she realizes she’s Almost There,

she’ll even get a little excited and head for the shortest check out line.

She’ll unload her groceries according to kind.

When the checker mixes them all up and bags them,

she’ll pay the low, low prices.

Then she’ll get home and get clean.

Which means she’ll need body soap and shampoo.

Getting in the shower and all wet will remind her that,

she has none.

So, being cold and soap-less and tired, she will start to cry.

And chances are if she has started to cry, it’s time to go to Walmart.

when one of the offspring spills an entire gallon of lemonade on the kitchen floor it is very, very hard to keep from uttering the kinds of words that lead to lots of expensive therapy later on down the road.

The identity will be concealed to protect the….um.. well, I’m not ready to say “innocent” just yet!

In all fairness, the landlord did bring a brand new refridge to our door today when I mentioned I didn’t think our current one was keeping up. And the new machine does have a slanted lip of about 4 inches where that lemonade jug was to go.

Could’ve happened to anyone….

• spent a good hour weeding the front flower bed today. The yarrow is blooming and the herbs are doing well. The coleus is bushing out and the daylillies are showing themselves. Some kind of bulb I planted is big and lush, with little flowers on it, but I can’t remember what it’s called! The weeds were wonko though; I had to get them up before finishing the black mulch later this week.
• the sweet peas are nearly waist high now and the cucumbers have flowers buds on them. The squash blooms are so big that I can see them from the kitchen.
• That demon weed that is crawling across the yard is trying to make it into my lettuce patch. It is so aggressive!
• I think for the new garden beds at the house we’re buying I’m taking just 5 tomato plants, some lettuce, and the herbs. There are two square raised beds that I can use for the rest of this season and then I can watch the sun’s direction and the exposure until next spring.
• my landlord was here last week and he limbed several trees. I now have a little sunshine on my clothesline! I also have a clear view of my neighbor’s inflatable pool. This is grossing me out. They work strange shifts and are home most of the day. Three adults watching TV and drinking beer and sleeping most of the day. They get in the pool with their clothes on and act like it’s some kind of garden deck oasis…they’ve got tiki lamps and lawn chairs and tons of beer. They want to be nice to the kids and keep asking if the kids can come swim. Um….let me think about that one…..NO!!!! Not over my dead body will my children come swim in 3 feet of water with 3 sweaty grown ups who oughta be doing something more industrious than bathing in their clothes in a yard they won’t even cut. What’s  wrong with them, thinking any sane parent would let her kids do that anyway? Sheesh. 6 months and it’s so quiet we never see them and then Memorial Weekend comes and they splurge on this pool and now they’re an issue. Gross. Well, if the rest of thier habits are any indicator, the pool will soon be green with sticks and debris and algea and the only thing I’ll have to worry about is if the baby is getting too close to it.

• A: while in the produce section of the grocery store bagging his favorite Brussel Sprouts, he found the cabbage nearby. “Look at the SIZE of these BRUSSEL SPROUTS!!”

• C: “This might tick you off Mom, but I’m half boy. And I”m thinking about packing up my girlie stuff until I want it later. But not my American Girl doll. NOT her.”

I packed three boxes today and hung three loads of clothes out to dry. Found some time to read, a re-read of Mystic Sweet Communion. And I finally gave in and decided to start a new blog that chronicles what we do for learning around these parts. If you’re interested, come and see The Rhythm of Our Days.

We don’t take many vacations. I supose this is for the obvious reasons that for most years we were either spending our weeks off birthing babies, working on home improvement projects, or just taking down time without spending money we didn’t have. But what it also taught is how to have a very nice “home vacation”, utilizing the resources we had, meeting the criteria that defined “vacation” for us, which if it can’t be a change of scenery it’s at least going to include good food, new food, fresh food.

Here in this area we’ve discovered that as far as the first holiday of the summer is concerned, it’s not a 3 day weekend…it’s 4. Almost no one was working on Friday. They were shopping, they were driving, they were closing things up. I meal planned and grocery shopped and desperately looked forward to a down-time weekend.

It’s been very quiet. Almost no traffic on our street today; I don’t know where every one went.  Last night we had chicken salad on crusty rolls, strawberries, chips, and Margaritas. We started the day with buttery pancakes and sausage. At lunch I tried a new recipe: it was a shrimp and avacado salad, made with cilantro and lettuce from my garden, and served it with rolls. The salad had a honey lime vinegarette dressiing, which sounded oh-so-fresh but it failed to excite. The avacodos were unnoticeable and the shrimp tasted “off”.

Shortly after the salad our sweet landlord and his wife came by with a dozen fresh farm eggs for our Lord’s Day breakfast. They know we have eggs benedict and wanted to make sure we had the best of the best. She also sent a jar of blackberry jam. These people have to be the kindest to rent from on the planet! They are sad we are having to move, as we are kindred spirits, but offered a referral anytime we wanted it.

The afternoon was warm. We haven’t turned on the AC for canned air yet, something that woud be a tad easier in this house if it had ceiling fans, or at least, adequate plugs for box fans. The kids cleaned out the van top to bottom; David even removed the seats so they could clean them really well. I got a roll of pictures of them, something I’ve been wanting to do for a while. I take so many less pictures these days and I miss it! When they were done washing the outside they splashed each other in the sunshine and sparkling water, ultimately shampooing right in the yard and coming in clean! I love their efficient father :D.

I cooked while they did that. Homemade refried beans. English muffins, a double batch. A sour cream pound cake. Fajitas and a mint syrup for Mojitas. It was hot in the kitchen but Nina was soothing and it was nice to work in peace.

A Prairie Home Companion was excellent tonight. Down right tear jerking when Garrison sang a song about a WW2 soldier and then the audience joined in for The Star Spangled Banner. I watched the trailer for the upcoming movie of the same name and it seemed a bit….dumb? I’m hoping the film makers and writers didn’t just botch something that is nearly an American Institution!

Mojitos, at least the recipe I have, are too sweet. The fajitas were fantastic: note to tortilla chip lovers…warm them on a baking sheet in the oven. YUM! We had fat wedges of pound cake on the porch before bed, crumbs falling down to the delight of many happy ants.

Tomorrow we’ll have those most-perfect Eggs Benedict and coffee. We’ll worship and rest and fellowship. I’m working on a book list despite the fact that I’m going to be packing for the next three weeks and won’t have much time to read. There is something about warm summer days that just scream for books and icey glasses of tea or lemonade. I’ll have to squeeze it in.

As Garrison says, “That’s the news from Lake Woebegone. Where the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children are all above average.”

While snuggling the 5 year old, watching him suck his thumb and smell his blanket (the ever-odorous Gah) I was stroking his hair and remembered he hasn’t been feeling well.

“How are you feeling today? Does your stomach hurt?”

“Yeah, and my head and my body.”

“Well how does it hurt? What does your head feel like?”

“Cream.”

Huh? He was very relaxed…..

It’s a song Nina Simone sings; something I play in my quietest and darkest of moods. Her voice with it’s mahogany richness and raw depth strokes me like a hand on the coat of a black, shiny cat, and somehow, the mood smooths down like previously ruffled fur.

Of all the emotional responses, rage is the one I hate the most. Desperate Rage is the worst of all. It’s irrationality and steamrolling strength leave me wondering who I am in that moment, where the real me went, how to find my way back to her. I am exhausted and spent and weak. It’s dissatisfying with it’s venting, flattening like an exhale pushed too far rather than flat skin where the pressure under a pimple once wanted relief.

It makes me want to sleep…. and to work to earn my vindication. I want to hide it, be free from the reminder of my break down, my weakening.  It makes the one I love look on with empathy, supportive voice and arms never leaving but I know praying that “I” will return. We are a team and one of us is struggling against the waves. Somehow, without merit, I was joined with someone who won’t let me sink down. Who will stand and listen and hold and be there when the cloud lifts and the world is sunshine and sunflowers again.

Ultimately, I despise the drama of it all. The neediness. The attention. It seems to me very pathetic.

The crime scene:  war broke out over a can of sprite to be divided into thirds. Number One refused to let Number Two do the division, and shook the sprite into an explosive frenzy in an attempt to make it too hard for her. Must screaming, wrestling, and otherwise gnashing of teeth.
The mandate from The Father:  go to your room and look at the book of Proverbs. Find three verses that address what happened and what should be done to avoid it.

The result:

Proverbs 15:13   A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit.

Proverbs 15:15  All the days of the oppressed are wretched, but the cheerful heart has a contintual feast.  Says Number One, “You know, because I lost out on the sprite….”

It’s hard to keep a straight face while parenting sometimes. He did go back to his room and find three other verses that addressed how the fight could have been avoided in the first place

Sighing on this Saturday morning, in no hurry to get out of the cool sheets, laughing with the baby between us, hot pancakes and sausage and little rivers of buttery maple syrup….

• yesterday was a rough, rough day. David resigned from one job (which will end Wednesday), hunted around for a repair shop to take his car (no-go on the weekend), our offer on the house was accepted (yippee!), we worked in grocery shopping between hustle and bustle and heavy traffic, and somewhere in there I just broke. It wasn’t the sum of lots of little things but a snap in the tension I think. On few hours of sleep I’d just reached my max.
• homemade Margaritas on the porch swing after dark was a soothing, summertime way to wrap it all up. Icey coolness and evening breeze and quiet chat: a chance to sigh and let down the guard.
• Today we finish the signatures on the house contract and CHILL OUT.

Suck it up girlfriend. It smarts but you’ll get over it. Be content. And realize how blessed you are that what you are “settling” for is so beautiful.

So we house hunted/farm hunted all day again yesterday. There are several strikes against the success of the mission. First, there is little for sale in a very large  land area in our  price range. What there is, is all very far apart and away. It all, but one true beauty, requires tons of work. And none of them are where we want to “end up”. Financially, it would be better if this move was 6 months from now but time is what it is and it ain’t that.

The net result and realization was this: we don’t have the heart it takes to revitalilze a property that needs alot of work just to leave it again in 3 years. In our little pile of properties to view there was one cottage in a tiny hamlet over a bridge (yes, it’s that picturesque) that is immaculate, historic, and miraculously close to work. At the bottom of our price range it affords us the chance to reach our other TMM goals until we can more comfortably get the farm of our dreams. And, having been on the market for awhile due to size and location, it has seemingly been sitting there just waiting for us to come along.

So the offer has been made and the papers for that will be signed later today. If all goes well we’ll close the day before my birthday next month. I can have a garden, clothesline, and city chickens but no other farm progress. We’ll have to take the very large second bedroom and divide it into two to make three and it has a second bathroom. There is a picket fence and old flower gardens and front porch worth every penny all on it’s own.

A little blue “cottage” like the dollhouse I built from a kit when I was 12. Almost eerie in similarity. And the street name is the same as the elementary school David attended. The kids can ride their bikes again and we can settle into a new job and commute routine and get a cat.  While I’m disappointed and still letting go that milk cow, goats, cheese and butter making, and uber-garden, this feels very right and wise.

i can talk about it now, which is relieving because trying to process it all without being able to write about it was getting agonizing, and now I’m so busy I can barely stop long enough to write anyway! But here’s the basics:

• D got a new job! A very positive, upwardly-encouraging job that seems surrounded by good energy.
• we have to move. It’s easier for me to commute here for the kids’ activities than he twice a day to the office. So Wartburg, TN here we come!
• this could very well be our dream move onto acreage. We’ll see. Please pray for an affordable scenario and wisdom for us in the process.
• D is most likely going to get a small motorcycle once we are out in the country. I’ll go into that later :-). But again, we need to be guided to just the right deal.

The next month is going to be hectic as we fix the car, pick a house, pack up this one, containerize as much garden as we can, keep the kids on as much of a routine as possible (and I know from my other two moves this year that it is critical to do that). Our chicks get here in the middle of that (and maybe I’ll get to increase the order!). D is working a double shift at UPS and needs prayer for sustaining strength. The  money will help in the re-purchasing of appliances (we sold all ours with our house), that motorcycle, debt re-payment (Total Money Makeover is still in the forefront of our minds!).

Time’s up. Gotta scoot. Life is never boring!

Today I had a fun discovery: I made my own english muffins! We still have Eggs Benedict every Lord’s Day morning for breakfast and while the eggs are better (thanks to my blessed landlord and his homegrown offering) the muffins have been worse. For whatever reason it’s been hard to find consistancy within a brand. A bad muffin is just a cardboardish, gritty, ruination to an otherwise blissfull mouthful of golden and buttery warmth. So, they matter.

My favorite breakfast cookbook, which is going to be my Recomendation of the Month for June (see May’s suggestion in the sidebar), has a recipe for English Muffins. With my bread curse seeminly lifted I decided this weekend to give them a shot.

I used half wheat/half white flour. The recipe is pretty basic: just yeast/water, oil, flour, and salt. The dough was soft and not sticky at all and felt really good to work with. Best of all, I mixed it last night and it did it’s first rise in the refridgerator overnight. This morning I got up and set it out to bring it up to room temp, and then rolled them, cut them, and sprinkled both sides with cornmeal.

They are “baked” on the griddle and smell heavenly while cooking! So toasty and really fragrant. The even heat of the griddle gave them a beautiful color and they timed perfectly with the boiling water for the eggs and the thickening of the Hollandaise Sauce.

Alas, we had storebought eggs for today’s breakfast. Watery and thin and pale. In a word, Anemic. They are kind of like calling Capri Sun “juice”. We had no other choice so we made do but every time I do it renews my determination to limit the times we have to injest these pathetic things.

The muffins helped to compensate :-). David whooped and almost fell over. They were crispy on the outside and tender and soft inside. Yeasty and velvety. I’d also gotten a better quality of Canadian Bacon and if we’d had good eggs it would have been nearly too perfect. I think the muffins might even better lightly toasted before using, or maybe I’m just so used to the dried out store bought stuff that I need to acquire a taste for this kind of excellence ;-). Sounds like it calls for more practice…..

• Father/Daughter camp out for American Heritage Girls was a fun success, albeit a wet one. Thunderstorms and tents aren’t a fantastic combination and I think they were more than a little glad that a trip home for David to do his shift at UPS before breakfast was concluded with hot pancakes and sausage at home before heading back for nature walks and tree talk!
• W said this morning, “Dad…one part of my gah (his blankie) smells like Beef Jerky. Wanna smell?”  Um, no.
• we’ve had long hours on our porch swing to sit and daydream and chat this weekend. In a lot of ways this week revealed marvelous relief and in others, bittersweet changes. I’m grateful for the time to process it together.
• Baby went all the way down the zip line by himself!!!! Then begged for more…
• In the garden, the lettuce is bright green and bushing out, the peas are climbing high, the corn is about a foot and a half tall, the carrots are thick, and there are tiny green tomatoes on a few bushes.  With its smell of clean straw and wet, green growth it’s one of my favorite places to be.

It would seem hanging laundry gives one a lot of time for thinking things through. One delightful discovery about Tennessee that I didn’t see coming is this long, extended, and very fragrant spring season. I had tea time with my two olders this afternoon and this was one of our poetry selections.

From: The Wild Honeysuckle by Philip Freneau, the last stanza:

From morning suns and evening dews

At first thy little being came;

If nothing once, you nothing lose,

For when you die you are the same;

The space between is but an hour,

The frail duration of a flower.

Life is too short….