Living-Deliberately.com

Lest anyone have an impression that I am a hard-core crunchy-granola health freak, let me assure you that today I am a crazed redhead in desperate search of some good ole high fructose corn syrup, namely in the form of Sour patch kids, decent jelly beans, or twizllers…all of them my favorite writing fuel. All are currently out of reach to my maddened displeasure, and I feel the day’s creative juice leaking down, down, down my body, into my leg, dripping heavy drops out of my leaky-faucet of a big toe into a puddle on the floor, a little pool of energy the day will demand I get up and leave not too long from now.

For now, I’ll watch this cute video while my mouth waters in search of that acidic tang.

Oh what an exciting week it has been! And few will probably appreciate the magnitude of that statement…this was the week of our daughter Clara’s 8th birthday. Due to a misunderstanding of where I was on the calendar (itself a minor miracle in the last week of March), I first thought her birthday was Sunday. Then Tuesday. But really, it was yesterday. What struck me as beautiful is that is was the kind of comical befuddlement that happens to my living children’s birthdays too. It was the first time it had happened with Clara’s; the darkness that has followed me every spring has been lifted. I attribute this almost completely to the fact that she has been remembered in corporate, public prayers for the departed since late fall. Her presense as one who prays for me as well has been validated; something I’ve long felt but never heard another say so seriously and earnestly as I have this winter. That she is no longer my “secret”, that I no longer feel like I must fight the tendancy to make the dead invisible, has been it’s own miracle in my spirit and the result has been the lack of dread as we’ve approached the season of anniversaries.

And so this has been a good week! Tulips and butterflies and ivy and daffodils! Sunshine and supreme warmth! As I type there is birdsong outside my open window.

Last night we made our first confession, in preparation for our upcoming chrismation. I’ve been pondering what confession really is: said privately it really is only an admission that you know what God has already known. True confession does require another’s ears hear your words. I made a list, one to help me remember and stay focused, but what the true result was the creation of a record resulting in self-loathing and shame. And I think for the first time my embarrassment at needing to say this before another human being, especially one I love and respect so much, gave me a glimpse at what must be so much more grievous before a heavenly father. And in to an earthly, lesser, extent, I think what happened was glorious. Because this confessor, this human being, did not seem to look at me differently afterward and certainly not with the scorn I’d feared. Rather than rejection I was given grace and love. I left feeling comfort and reassurance that my redemption is truly a possible thing, even with habitutal sins that I’ve long struggled with, even as I fight battles like everyone else, not so odd after all. And if that is model of what really happens in a heavenly realm then I stand amazed and bit sad that this was missing from my tradition for a lifetime.

I’ve two major projects in the works: a book and new business. This blog has over 50k hits per month and the readership is growing, what I’m told is a good performance for a young site. Requests for web work and blog make-overs have come, putting together a “professional blogger” kind of service. So I’ve assembled packages for business people who want a blog, or have a blog that needs revamping, and out of time or knowledge constraints, want some help with it. It’s work I love to do, love to learn, and in some ways, feels like a cummulative way to use what I’ve been developing for a long time.

The book is the other Major Undertaking, one that is much fun and since NanoWriMo, is not all that intimidating. The goal is to have it ready to show to an editor/publisher by the end of September of this year. The working title is Low Income is Better Than Owed Income: How One Family Decided to Live on purpose and Become Debt Free. I’ve got extensive notes and the outline done, and oh yeah, I lived it. It’s our story, plus the testimonies of other like minds, and lots of practical tips for those wanting to give it a go as well.

The image of a puzzle keeps coming to mind, pieces fitting together and the completed picture working its way into focus, a metaphor for the coming year. Everything is a part: healing, committment, work and effort, rest and prayer. The result is clarity; the irony to me, in a year resplendant with ironic moments, is that clarity is the meaning of her name. Some gifts take a long time to open.

Here’s the challenge: I have no working oven. Due to time and money contraints, it’s not likely to be fixed until after our trip to visit my family next week/Easter/pascha. I also have no working grill; won’t be fixed until the same time for the same reasons.

I need meal ideas! I miss, miss, miss my home baked bread. I miss pizza. Quiche. Lasange. Etc, Etc.  I can make pancakes, waffles, tortillas, flatbread, etc but the challenge seems to be in changing my thinking to remember this kind of thing. I start making cookies or a cake or roasted chicken and then remember halfway in that I can’t cook it the way I’ve started preparing it.

So hit me mercilessly with menu options please! I have a conventional toaster, not a toaster oven. And no microwave. people do eat quite well in other areas of the world without these things so I know it’s gotta be possible.

Oh and, the letter “p” has not returned; I’m cutting/pasting! My great thanks to those who suggested that option!

A Momma Weekend…a room full (but not too) of women comfortable in their own skin, owning their own words, just “being” where we were. I was struck repeatedly with how amazing that simple truth seemed, we who sat looking at images that appeared bold and daring of women like us, photographed not like us, a soap ad breaking ground and puncturing facades.

Here were new friends, kindred spirits really, people I’d like to see again. It’s been a long time since I created anything in front of others, that vulnerable process that ironically often is best when there is synergy attached, and I left wishing almost instantly that I’d done more, gotten closer with my camera, bid their eyes to look up and right at me, faces being more satisfying subjects than flowers.

Sheets with some kind of wondrous thread count swaddled me at night, the hours full of the most sleep I’ve had in years. Tension in joints and nerves relaxed and stopped their previously incessant vibrations and tingles, the discovery being that it all came from having my arm at a strange angle so as to support that heavy baby head all night long.

Water swirled around my ankles, first in the morning light and then again in the never-stillness of an ocean night, sand actually feeling good on my feet, the sparseness of shells making for a good walking surface. Words mimicked those foamy waves, coming in at intervals and leaving something with me every time to ponder while marveling at the depth of it all.

And here was a scallop! Sweet little ocean offering never a part of my pallet before. “You must try one!” she insisted and so I did. There I found absolutely nothing in my previous experience to compare them to…I think I attempted with “little soft white pillows of ocean”, knowing these were utterly fresh and unique morsels and likely words would not be adequate. Their richness was subtle and came upon me as I finished the plate rather than assault me at the start. I wondered what wine would match the best. “Try them seared next time” she said. I won’t hesitate at my next opportunity and I’ll think of her every time I do. Food and friends….how often one compliments the nuances of another. Surely this is why we match wine as well, looking for that perfect pairing.

Coming home was hours of wind and sunshine, alone with thoughts that needed sorting. Some choices were made and as I drove through lowlands to hills and then to mountains my mind started it’s transition back to my routine, back to demands. I clarified what I need to pray, I answered, “what’s for dinner”, kissed little cheeks belonging to faces that missed me. I knew, like watching a puzzle being put together come into focus, what I needed to do next. It is the gift I take away from the ocean, from friends, from a change of scenery, from rest.

While I was away this weekend, David found this blog and was anxious to share it with me this morning. I soon saw why…lots of great nuggets on there directly relating to a few of my current endeavors. The blog writer, Guy Kawasaki, recently reviewed an article called The Effort Effect. Restructuring how I say things, first and foremost to my kids, is a huge recent undertaking and the author also wrote a book sounds like it might have some interesting things to say about that. It’s called Mindset. Take a look.

Seen while on my vacation:

• 4 individual times, all in the state of TN, elderly on scooters going down the shoulder of  the interstate
• a semi truck sitting on the side of the road with a set of rotund and nearly transluescent female legs hanging out of the driver’s side door, swinging in a way that seemed to be an invitation
• gothic style churches with shady old cemetaries alongside
• moss. lots and lots of moss.
• cano_ies of live oaks, sometimes over bare dirt roads leading to mysterious island locations
• a tree in the midst of a snake and aligator-filled marsh decorated with valentine hearts and a stuffed bear…locally known as “the mystery tree”
• the OCEAN. Oh how I miss that!!
• old friends. new friends. good friends.
• one very cute gentlemanly dog who has a taste for the finer things in life…
• _aintings. art su_ _lies. creation.
• The Holiday
• smart and brave women comfortable in thier own skin
• seafood. granola. raw honey. Scarlett O’hara’s. coffee dark and intense. key lime _ie.
• adirondack chairs
• cresent moons and _alm trees
• one very horridly scary horeshoe crab, stuck on the beach at night
• a room full of la_to_s. (hard word to s_ell without the letter that comes after “o”).
• a summer day a few months early
• one side a mountain dressed for s_ring while the other lagged behind in winter’s bareness
• 3 truckers who honked and I still don’t know why
• 4 little faces running out to greet me, all of them looking somehow older
• 1 very glad daddy sitting on the _orch with a glass of wine for a warm evening chat.

As a friend said, “it’s fun to go and it’s fun to come home”.

This morning I awoke knowing the last time my eyes were o_en, it was bedtime, eight hours before. It was my first full night of rest in nearly 3 years.

Today my _lans include a walk on the beach and to mess around with some new oil _aints. When I get home, I do so solemnly swear to order a new keyboard and regain the use of the letter that comes after “o”. You don’t know how much you miss something until it’s gone LOL. ;-).

I’ve got some old friends and some new friends today. A day full of sun. New art stuff and folks around who can hel_ me out here and there on how to use it should I need some guidance. Breeze. FANTASTIC food. I had the freshest shrim_ I’ve had in years last night, golden bright and tangy key lime _ie, some kind of heavenly cranberry concoction involving a lovely little _roduct called “Southern Comfort”, _izza hot and fresh from the oven, big bowls of granola and berries drizzled in raw honey….all tem_ered with long bike rides and serene yoga sessions.

I miss my babies and that gorgeous man. Slee_ing alone is restful and wonderful but that best friend of mine may be better. Hairy legs next to mine and a comforting _resense and  all that. I love vacations that bring out the best in me and remind me of how great a life I really do have. Sometimes fatigue can make one loose sight…or at least make the view a little bleary.

Someone gave me the gift of rest and _eace and clarity, friendshi_, laughter, and light. (Geez! That would be so much better looking with the _ro_er letters!) I feel it as crystal as the sun glints on the ocean. May my thankfulness grow to be as vast.

(will try to do this without the letter that comes after “o”)

I’m on a solitary vacation. The first in too many years, designed to wean our baby and get some mental s_ace (tried. Some words just gotta have it! New keyboard to be taken care of next week!). The word “vacation” was first used my dad. He said, “So you’re going on vacation all by yourself!” and I thought, “Yeah. Wow! I really AM”. Before that it had been the “slee_ tri_”, the “wean tri_”, the “art tri_”.  But a vacation is really what it is. Bonefide Va-Ca-Tion.

I drove south realizing as I went that it was becoming S_ring more and more as I went. And, my location is a rural one, in some ways very much back in time. Oddly, this created the sensation that I was both traveling ahead into the future *and* the _ast at once. There are flowers and trees here, varieties that I haven’t seen in a few years, native s_ecies that I left behind when moved but found myself incredibly moved by as I drove under their cano_y. I drove through fresh sring rain and a slight odor of forest fire, tall southern _ines on my left and right and knew _art of me was resting in the familiar.

So “rest” is the word. My kiddos have a fantastic, awesome dad who is working from home, nursing one with an earache, hel_ing another wean from Mommy, and will _robably fill their days with some refreshing variety. I will walk. I will slee_. I will create. I will breathe. It’s a real “he maketh me to lie down” kind of s_an of days.

Can I type without the letter that comes after “j”? My sweet sweet baby poured water on my _eyboard today. We spent hours with a fan on the laptop praying.  The comma _ey and the space  _ey also seem to be affected.  It is  stic_y and slow. Wont  get a boo_ written this way. I am (no apostrophe either) trying to have a sense of humor about it….at least it came back on after 6 or so hours of wind. The harddrive appears to be safe. Things could be worse. If anyone has  any suggestions other than obviously more time with a fan let me _now.

We just passed the most bizarre of nights, sore and aching still from a strenuous hike, nursing little children coming down rapidly with some kind of virus. The evening was a good one; we’d finished sorting through all the clothing in the kids’ room and setting back to rights. It was finally neat as a pin, no small feet for a room roughly 12 x 12 holding four children and thier belongings while we remodel the conjoining room. It was a little odd that all volunteered to get into jammies by 7, odder still that they were all asleep by 7:30, but hungry for some down time alone, we certainly didn’t argue! I jerry-rigged my loaded nacho recipe to accomodate for my broken oven and we settled down to a big plate of them watching Ugly Betty online, then reading, and deciding on sleep by 10. “Nice and early” thought I.

The dog was curled up on the floor next to my side of the bed. This is his usual position and not a problem except that he soon made it very clear that his delicate intestines were being ripped by some kind of potent gas issue. Not long after, Daddy, to my left, joined in. I was stuck in between, being pummelled by “SBD’s” every few minutes. I grumbled. I moaned. I opened a window to the 30 degree night. I buried my head in the covers. After an hour I couldn’t take it anymore: I slugged David to get up and take the dog outside to see if he needed to go.  It was 11.

After he got back we got all situated again to snuggle in for a night that still had a lot going for it. Sleep by 11 can still mean “up on time” in the morning. But the pit stop didn’t help and the two of them were back at it in short order. I only let 15 mintues pass this time, near tears it was so bad and I’m NOT kidding. The clouds were almost palpable.

“Kennel the dog!!” I screeched. Muttering and mumbling in his sleep David got up to put Piper in his crate down in the kitchen. The biggest problem with this? The dog likes to be at our side pretty much 24/7. He commenced a high pitched whine punctuated with sharp barks.

The sweet sleeping children, three of them with low-grade fevers started to toss and turn. I creeped, ankles and muscels tightened and protesting, down the stairs to throw a blanket over the crate and to yell, “HUSH” at the dog.  By the time I crawled back beneath the covers, visitor number one was at my bedside, hovering over me in the dark.

“Mommy, my head hurts. I need Tylonol.”

Another trip downstairs in slo-mo to retrieve one and a cup of ice water. Tuck in the boy, reassure him that his head is not about to explode, and go crawl back in bed. Yell HUSH as the dog. Slug David who is now snoring loudly.

I debated the couch. But the dog would still want to be by my side, no doubt gassing my air just the same, and the soon-to-rise baby would not enjoy the close and sloping surface of the futon. I slugged David again and told him to roll over. Visitor number two was hovering over my bedside when I turned back to my side.

“Mommy, my head hurts. I need Tylonol.” This one’s fever was higher than the last. I crawled back downstairs to get him a dose and cup of water and reassurred her too that her head was not about to explode upon the pillow.

It was 12. Baby came in panting, ready to nurse. The dog continued in 15 mintute intervals. Visitor number 3 came in, declaring his intent to go medicate himself. “Okay” I mumbled. Baby whined for “side”, which means “switch”. It was 1:30.

At two David got up again to take the dog outside and this time left him out of the crate. At three we had another visitor wanting another dose and reassurrance. At four baby whinned because I was trying tell him “no” to a request for more. At five I had a nightmare about running a red light and getting a ticket from a mean cop. At six David was up. At seven I was too, trying to hide from the light while he rummaged for clean pants.

It’s another pot of coffee today and a late start to the day while we watch the rain clouds creep in.  The dog is all perk and pep, the children energetic enough to bicker. What else is there to do?

I have no idea why this is such a snag for my mind, but it’s there and all the country-life romantacizing I’d like to do can’t seem to wash it away.

We know of a 50-something man, a 30-ish man, an man in his early 20’s, and a 13 year old girl all educated in this county’s school system. Two of these are considered by their peers to be exceptionally bright and “educated”. Not a single one of them has ever heard of the word “Thesaurus”, let alone used one. (My deep apologies to anyone who is reading this and wondering for themselves what one is. Here’s a wiki).

When did I consider knowledge of what a thesaurus was and how one is used to be a prequisite of a good education? I have no idea. I do know that it’s a pretty basic tool for writing. My young kids know what one is and they found out through a very organic process: we use one from time to time around here. I myself learned in school and I’m pretty sure it was in early jr. high. I think anyone who graduates from 12 years of education ought to be able to speak, read, and write in a way that equips them for life out in the world, wherever that may be. We’ve seen young guys with high school diplomas struggle to pronouce, nevermind put together, a resume. They’d have no chance writing an essay in a college level course; maybe not even a letter to the editor of their local paper. Whether these kids want to stay close to home or get a degree that empowers them to live elsewhere, they don’t seem to be getting some pretty basic level instruction to do so.

One guy asked if a thesaurus was a kind of dinosaur. Maybe it is.

We had a birthday party today; a gorgeous hike that involved a trail that was pretty much climbing stairs for 1000 feet for 2 miles and then 2 miles back joyously pounding down the trail. It was COLD but exhilarating. We munched on sub sandwiches, chips, and chocolate angel food cake; I think we would have happily devoured anything in site. But note to self: next year, if there is similar weather, plan a hot menu. It was a fabulous party-on-a-TMM-shoestring and while we’re deliriously tired, we’re also fantastically happy and invigorated. What is it about good friends, a beautiful day, and fresh air that can do that?

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FYI: My Mood is “Sophisticat”. My Fun is “Escape Artist”. My habits are “high time roller”. And my love is “home soul”.

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In a comment below, Richard says, “My family is from Arizona, which thankfully, is one of perhaps only two states that ignores daylight savings time. When we moved to the East Coast, we took a “When in Rome…” kind of attitude and set our clocks back. What a huge mistake. For days afterward, it felt like we were walking zombies. We’ve opted out ever since. That’s right. We completely ignore DST and it’s been great.”

So my tired, little red-headed mind, doing it’s morning routine a full TWO HOURS late this morning wants to know more about this!! How’s it done? Do you just mentally adjust the start times for everything? Are you late to stuff (or would that be early in spring?) One reason I’m still so behind is because I still wake up with the sunrise, which is now an hour late to the rest of the world.  I’ll no sooner get it adjusted and it won’t be long before we switch again. I really dislike the spring change, which makes 5:00 drivers heading right into bright sunshine unguarded by clouds. On Wednesday I nearly hit a kid on ATV; the car going the other way was driving into blinding sun and did not miss. She hit the kid going full force, overturned the ATV, and knocked him clear of it. He had no helmet…and somehow, miraculously, he got up out of the road and laid down on the shoulder, moving himself out of the way of the oncoming car that likely would have run over his body. I had many, many thoughts in the hours afterward and eventually it crossed my mind that time change (and sun) IS a factor in traffic accidents.

Anyway, that was a little tangent. The long and short of it is that I think Daylight Savings Time is whacked. I heard something about how it supposed to save energy but I’m really wondering how….instead of having my lights on for an extra hour or so in the evening, I have them on in the morning.  Put it on a large scale for corporations and it’s pretty much the same. This website attempts to answer it.  There is also a section on the protest against it:

“Protests are also put forth by people who wake at dawn, or whose schedules are otherwise tied to sunrise, such as farmers. Canadian poultry producer Marty Notenbomer notes, “The chickens do not adapt to the changed clock until several weeks have gone by, so the first week of April and the last week of October are very frustrating for us.”

Anyway, Richard, can you share a few details of this beautiful rebellion over a stupid idea like DST?

Besides name saints, wall and carpet demolition, and growling at “helpful” neighbors, what I’ve been doing as well…

• planning Andrew’s 11th birthday party, a hiking party at Frozen Head State Park.
• watching spring time burst forth: we’ve got daffodils, hyacinths, red buds, plums, and some kind of yellow-flower-whip looking thing. The grass is green again and the days have been warm.
• retooling a blog…go check out Tim’s blog and his site. This has been gobs of fun this week! I love his project; he gets to meet some really inspiring people along the way.
• helping a friend start a business selling organic composted manure; I’ll be doing her website and managing that end of it
• getting some outside help on some communication/relational issues. Maintenance…everything needs it now and then.
• planning our DAVE RAMSEY party cuz baby….We’re Debt Free!!!!! And the party, in April, is going to be BIG!!! We’re shooting to celebrate our accomplisment AND hopefully inspire others who are on the way or want to get their own Total Money Makeover started.  I’m also catching a vision of ways to specifically encourage others on a “less than high” income that they too can do this AND re-upping that Gazelle Intensity because step 3 may need every bit of energy that step 2 did.