Day 8

I made cookies on Friday. I also said a lot of grateful prayers. In fact, my husband and I have been saying a lot of thankful prayers in the last few months. When I read the news headlines Friday morning that unemployment rose to a high of 6.7% last month, I could only give thanks. Our little family knows unemployment quite intimately. For approximately 7 months out of this year my husband was unemployed. That's 100% for this household. It's scary. It rocks your confidence. It's easy to lose hope.

Matt has since found a job. It's a great job. And he is really good at it. We could not have dreamed of a better fit for his skills. Last week was incredibly stressful for him. He had some major deadlines, and he knew that his reputation was riding on his successful management of those deadlines. So as I read the article about unemployment, thinking about the many unemployed people who are foreclosing, scared, and homeless, I felt compelled to do a little something to say thanks to Matt and his new company. I baked a batch of my favorite chocolate chip cookies and delivered them to the office. This may sound like a trivial response compared to the big issue at hand, but it was my way of expressing gratitude to the Giver of life, employment, and even chocolate chip cookies.

Day 7: Finger puppets and tea

I was perusing the aisles of my local grocery last night when I came across a buy one get one free deal for Celestial Seasonings tea. Weighing my options I settled for True Blueberry and Sleepytime. Soon after getting home I put some water in the kettle to boil, mug and blueberry tea bag all set to go. I dropped the bag in the boiling water and as soon as the smells hit my nose I knew I had to take a taste, no matter how premature. That was it! That was the taste!

You see, I traveled in Eastern Europe in 1999, and I studied with a group of college friends. We studied in Slovakia during the week and traveled on the weekends. Part of our weeknight ritual was to stop by the local Potriviny (market) on the way home from the university. We would pick up that night's supper. We would go home and hover over the two electric burners we had to share among the eleven of us. We'd share our food and drink. Those were good memories!

(Ahem) Back to the tea...I had tried some tea from one of these markets and fell head over heels in love with it. I brought back as much as I could. It was some sort of fruit tea, from what I could make of the Slovak writing. Well, years later, in a friend's kitchen in California, she served me a cup of fruit tea. The same thing! That delicious flavor, reminiscent of the far off memory of that Slovak tea. And then again yesterday, in my tiny kitchen, half way around the world, I tasted the same thing. It's the blueberry! Simple. Ordinary. Even grown locally. The summertime blueberry. I'm headed to the store to cash in on more of those little boxes.

Day 6: Yard berries

Beautiful, black, and unidentified (a.k.a. keep away from Karis' curious hands and eager mouth).

December Photo Project

Day 5

The colors of this season do not simply belong to the famous duo, red and green. For me, I see the season in much brighter hues as well. Vibrant oranges, various shades of green and yellow, and sometimes a pleasant mixture of the above. Winter always ushers in the citrus season. Those vitamin C laden globes of my childhood, hanging from the dozens of trees painstakingly planted by my father (a.k.a. Mr. Green Thumbs).

Last Christmas my husband asked my dad about his precious citrus trees and my dad offered a whole tutorial on the different types of lemon trees. Matt was fascinated and felt certain it was information he would never use again in his life. But it was interesting, nonetheless. I hope to spend some time with my parents this Christmas. If you come looking for me, you'll find me perched under the tangelo tree with my cheeks full and juice running down my face. I won't care how silly I look.

December Photo Project

Day 4: Holiday kitsch

In our subtropical climate there may not be snow, snow angels, or snowball fights. But against all odds, there will be snowmen.

Day 3

The weather has been downright chilly. I sat for a spell by the wood burning stove today. It felt healing. And my toes were pleased.

December Photo Shoot

Day 2

"Decking the halls" of last night's salad bowl.

Wondering what this photo is all about? Read yesterday's post or click here. Check back daily for a fresh new photo.

December Photo Project

December 1^st and already a full calendar. Lots of plans. The usual holiday busy-ness. Some weekends overbooked. I guess “tis the season” for this sort of thing, right? Amid all these “to do’s” you might question what I am about to tell you. I have decided to participate in the annual December '08 Photo Project. 25 days of taking photos and sharing them with you. Hmmm...this doesn't sound kid-friendly or husband approved.

You may be asking yourself, “So why do it?” I have a few reasons (read: excuses). First of all, I want to slow down and enjoy my family. I am proposing that taking pictures of this month’s family moments will be good for me. To purposefully keep my eyes open to those blessings around me. Those living, breathing, human blessings.

My second reason is a little more obvious. I love taking and sharing the photo love. I think this will be a good exercise in stretching my imagination and flexing those creative muscles. It’s a free way to challenge my skills.

My third reason seems a little far-fetched to me, but I do think it has some validity. I hope this project will bring a little more organization to my day. I tend to do better when there is more on my plate rather than less. There have been multiple passion-filled and exhausting conversations about priorities between the husband and wife of this household recently. Stretching each other and ourselves to dump all the rocks out of the proverbial bowl and start over fresh, putting the important rocks in first and the less important pebbles second. I have much room to grow in this area. I think “tyranny of the urgent” should be my middle name.

Again, a daily photo project seems counter-intuitive here. But, it actually gives me hope and motivation. Motivation to put the important rocks first in my day (serving others). And hope that there is room in my bowl for this delightful little photo project “pebble”.

Day 1:

My sick child thumbing through Ezra Jack Keat’s The Snowy Day. Here she has landed on the poignant part of the story. It reads, “Before he got into bed he looked in his pocket. His pocket was empty. The snowball wasn't there. He felt very sad." One day our Florida child will understand what snow is and why Peter's snowball melted.

A fickle machine

So now that I've come clean about my dream, I am forcing myself to be more adventurous with my camera. And I have to say that the more I learn about this machine, I find myself both in awe and utter frustration. What a complex and fickle machine it is. At the moment, I feel it has the upper hand in our relationship.

But I have sat my camera down and explained to it in no uncertain terms that I will be the boss. Sure there are many mysteries that it beholds at this point. Sure, I'll admit that when I go to upload my photos onto my computer I am baffled at the small amount of pictures that turn out. I am glad I have the discretion to post only those photos that do turn out...if only you saw the ones that don't! It feels like my dirty little photography secret. Can any other photographers relate or is it just me?

I see taking a class and joining a meet up group somewhere very near in my future. Either way, I have told the camera that I WILL arise victorious. Just maybe not today.

(The above photo was taken a few weeks ago at Barnes and Noble as I attempted to read about my camera in the Nikon manual. See? I'm really trying!)

Holiday letdown

Hi, my name is Alina, and I'm an overexpecter (a helpful new phrase I'm coining). Yup. It's a problem of pathological proportions in my life. I look forward to big occasions and ponder on the good times to be had. I envision the grand entrance, the witty conversation, the warm and fuzzy feelings, and the fabulous food. Before I know it, I've envisioned something so glossy and tantalizing that only Spielberg could deliver such results on the big screen. And I don't know about you but the holidays are never a blockbuster movie. No offense, family.

It's not that the holidays are ever bad, per se. They are usually quite full of blessings, good conversations, and all around pleasant memories with my loved ones. No, the problem lies in my expectations. They are always, without fail, unceasingly, kicked into overdrive whenever I approach the holidays, or any good thing, for that matter. If they made a medicine for this, I'd have an I.V. hooked up to me 24/7 (except you would never know it because I would have some sort of cool contraption where I could keep it disguised in a purse and it would look especially fabulous and unique).

Today I wrestled with the demons of high expectations. On multiple occasions. Karis woke up sick. Not her usual self--energetic and abounding with joy. First, this disturbed my plans for the day. Secondly, I thought ahead to Thanksgiving Day. Would she be sick Thursday? Would I have to stay home and miss all the festivities? Would Karis not get to play with her cousins and take pictures in their matching holiday shirts? (Don't judge. It's goofy but adorable, trust me.)

I began to panic as all the expectations I had building for over a month began to crumble. Would I get sick? This thought brings with it a whole slew of memories through the years where I have gotten sick, a few times deathly sick, during vacations. For as long as I could remember I would anticipate vacation so intensely that I would wind up getting sick and therefore not be able to enjoy the fun. Disney World, Ecuador, Colorado, California, Palm Coast (just to name a few). But sometimes those illnesses were completely random. They happened to catch me off guard and knock me down right at the eve of a vacation. Cruel fate or God's way of breaking those vices of over expectation? I don't know.

But I do know this. When tonight's schedule didn't go as planned and when the delicious dinner I planned turned into mediocre grits and eggs, I fought hard against the disappointment. And when Matt suggested I be flexible, I certainly thought, "That's ridiculous. I'm VERY flexible." I think, in light of today's ongoing battles, I have merely skimmed the surface of my inflexibility. With this holiday upon us, the one that takes the unassuming virtue of gratefulness and sets it center stage, I am reminded that gratefulness takes whatever comes and says, simply, "Thank you."

Downtown

The autumn produce bowl: restocked, thanks to today's trip to the farmer's market.

I am a city mouse. No two ways about it. I love having neighbors, shopping options, and new places to explore. I even like the noise, perhaps because it is a result of the bustle. And I like bustle.

When we lived in St. Louis, I had a list of favorite places I would frequent [sushi restaurant, discount jewelry store, Vietnamese restaurant, creperie]. Nearly every time I went to these places, I said out loud, if not at least to myself, "This is what I love about the city--options." The city is where the opportunities abound. I know that with the advent of roads and transportation you can get almost anything you need in the suburbs or the country. But I guess I am a little bit picky on this subject...I'd rather go straight to the source.

We've been living in Jacksonville city for almost 3 months now, and I had yet to discover some of my own city gems. Jacksonville is different than other big cities I know...more spread out and very large in land mass. Other than the local goodwill down the road, I didn't have anything to brag about. That all changed this week.

Tuesday, November 18 marks the day that I had the best sandwich in my life. Now, I am aware of the enormity of this statement. I am, afterall, American. This fact single handedly ensures my sandwich eating expertise. I am still standing by my statement.

The story: I went with some friends to a little place I had heard of for a while now. It is a little French restaurant called The French Pantry. It was nothing short of INCREDIBLE. I had a chicken ciabatta sandwich, and every part of it, from the grilled chicken with the skin on, sundried tomato aoli, fresh greens, and fresh homemade bread, made this the BEST SANDWICH in my life. Oh, did I already say that? They also have incredible cakes and breads, and when you dine in you have to share a table with whomever was standing in line with you. Kind of European style. And the kicker? The place is a mere 4 minute drive from my house. A city gem, to be sure.

My second city score I found today. A friend and her daughter joined Karis and I at the main library downtown. We had heard tale that it had an awesome children's library. It was FABULOUS. 300,000 sq. ft. building. 4 stories. 15 foot Christmas trees all over every floor, each decorated in the theme of a different book. They had a huge children's section with multiple copies of all the books I was looking for (proves my point that when you go straight to the city source you find everything you are looking for). They hosted a morning full of story time, arts and crafts, dancing, and singing. And most of these activities were geared for my young toddler's age. I feel like I have a crush. A library crush.

Afterwards, we ambled outside to the park where there was a farmer's market taking place. We each bought some of the season's bounty at a decent price. It was a very small market, and we were told there is a better one just down the street. I think we'll check it out soon.

These were good finds. They were good for my future here. I am still in the "get to know you" phase of living here, and I am glad I have found some city jewels to enjoy.

Acorn love and a dream

(Top photo: I gathered these acorns while on a walk with my daughter. We both fell in love with how tiny they were and how they each have an adorable winter "hat"). ***Update: Yes, I am loving this photo so much that I am using it for the header, at least through the winter months.***

You guys may have noticed a little change here in my blog as of late. For you regular readers who have stopped in for your once a month visit, you have probably been shocked to find there were multiple posts waiting for you. In short, I don't exactly know what has happened. I think all the recent transitions in our lives have brought the winds of change blowing through this blog. And I like it. Better yet, I love it. I simply love writing and taking pictures. A blog is an unlikely salve for my soul.

Something happened to me last month. You see, I sat down to write my typical post. Except, instead of sugar-coating what was going on in our lives, I was honest. Raw, in fact. I am sure I offended. Out of the rubble of my depression and struggles came a little sapling of passion: writing and photography. Thus began a series of posts. I found that after every post I wrote I felt more inspired than before. The inspiration really helped pull me out of this difficult season. And I have reconnected with my love (and need) to write, something I had buried since college.

I have a dream to write and take photographs professionally (or should I say "quasi" professionally). The passion is stirring, and I am not sure what the steps are to get there. But I'll have you know I am working on it. There are a few things motivating me right now. First of all, a few friends have embarked upon their own personal creative ventures, and I am inspired by their guts and hard work (Thanks Mary and Jenny!). I am also haunted by the fear that I will reach the youthful age of 75 and think to myself, "I would have loved to have been a writer" or "I would have made a great photographer." So a little fear mixed in with inspiration and a heavy dose of passion are driving me.

I really debated sharing this. I know it may sound presumptuous. Perhaps it could set me up for disappointing myself. But it's what I am walking through right now, and, well, I tend to write about those parts of my journey that move me. And in order to be moved into action, I have broken down this big goal into 3 smaller ones, mostly related to networking. I have also shared my passion with friends who are excited and have promised to hold me to my goals and keep me excited about the dream. And now...I have just 46 years to accomplish this goal before I reach my self-imposed deadline.

A Tale of 4 Chairs

I love making old things new. There is a deep, abiding comfort in redeeming something. The life of Jesus was all about a redemption project. I've concluded that it is simply gratifying to restore something to its original luster, the beauty it was originally created to display.

My sister-in-law and her mother are excellent at redeeming things. They see the hidden value under the chipping layers of paint and gaudy 80's fabric. But me? I profess to be able to do it. I look at something and with the arrogance of a school girl, I flip my hair nonchalantly and proclaim with utter confidence, 'I'll just paint it. No problem.' But on the inside I am the shy school girl hiding in the back of the class, petrified that the teacher is actually going to call on her. The confident school girl always beats out the shy one when I am in the store contemplating buying something tattered but promising. It is when I get home that I face the demons of inexperience, lack of know-how, and inadequate funds to support my new 'redemption' project.

Furnishing our little home has been a priority for me over the last few months. We sold most of our furniture before leaving California. It didn't make sense to lug it across country, rent a large truck to carry it all, and risk having it ruined by the 3000+ mile trip from sea to shining sea.

So, we sold everything except the beds. Every. Last. Bit. Of. It.

Once we landed in our own home, we began to unpack and take inventory of the empty corners and bare rooms. Eating on the floor got old really quickly. Thus commenced the searching process. I became a religious lurker of the local Goodwill and Craigslist.

Slowly but surely the home began to take shape. The living room was filling out nicely. I had a dining room table but no chairs. And I was kind of picky about what I wanted. I was about ready to throw in the towel and give up when my mom came to visit.

I remember the day I first met them. It was a hot, sunny day in October. My mom and I were on a mission to find my dining room chairs and some patio furniture. We strolled casually into the Goodwill a couple miles from my home. This place is a virtual treasure trove. And this day did not disappoint.

Sitting there awkwardly were four white chairs, each facing a different direction as if they'd lost their way and each was trying to figure out which direction to take home. As I neared them I noticed they were the exact style I had been envisioning...rustic, farmhouse style, spindle-back chairs. Slapped haphazardly on one of them was a sign reading '4 chairs for 25.99'. Looking closer I could almost detect a shade of pink as they blushed in embarrassment from being sold for so little. I stepped up to them, bent down, and in a hushed whisper, with a satisfied grin I told them they were coming home with me.

They were instantly white again, I swear.

My mother and I quickly rounded up these four chairs, a few outdoor pieces of furniture, and a slew of lamps. Ecstatic from our finds, we shoved it all into her hatchback and headed home, our hands out the window, singing a gleeful song about our good(will) fortune. I may have even heard humming from the rear.

From that point on, the story is rather drab. Or at least predictable to anybody who has ever done this 'makeover' type of thing. Chairs sanded. Paint purchased. Paint applied. Paint not quite right and returned for a different type. Second purchase is much better. Paint goes on in layers. Much time elapses between coats. Long story short...it has been three months and all the chairs are complete, as of last week. Well, actually two chairs need one more coat. It will happen, some day.

They do look lovely, in case you were wondering. Instead of begging, Somebody please take us home!, these chairs proudly proclaim, Take a seat and stay a while. Enjoy a savory meal. Talk about love and life. I am a rustic farmhouse chair. It is my duty to serve you.

Sure, the work was considerable, and the cost was steep for my budget. But when I look at these ladies, I know it was all worth it. They are black and beautiful. Not a trace of pink, I promise.

Noteworthy

#1. This weekend was glorious. Simply wonderful. It was the first weekend following Matt's successful passing of EMT school. We spent the whole weekend together. I remembered all the things I love about him. We laughed like we were so accustomed to before the stress of the last 3 months hit us. I'll remember this weekend for a long time.

#2. My terribly, horrible, no-good habit of dressing like a beggar (previously mentioned here) while in the privacy of my own home may have been defeated this week. I found some new pants at Target this week. They are all at once comfortable, good for sleeping in, and black (so fairly unhomeless in appearance). I am making strides, although I think Matt won't believe I am thoroughly cured of my bad habits until I actually throw away all the old t-shirts and saggy pants. (Please, don't make me!)

#3. Saturday afternoon we went shopping around town. As I perused through the aisles gathering well needed supplies for our fridge and home, helping myself to the free samples at the end of every aisle, listening to the holiday music overhead, and glancing at the colorful Christmas decorations, I fully understood how shopping can become like medicine or therapy or relationships. I just felt warm inside. I am glad I don't shop often.

#4. Last week I introduced my good friend to the wide world of Penzey's spices. I lived within walking distance of a store in St. Louis. I was thoroughly overjoyed to find out that this chain, which is almost exclusively limited to the midwest region of the US, has one store in Florida. And merely a 20 minute drive from my house! My friend was polite and smiled as I giddily babbled on about the spices, where they are from, and what I love to do with them. I knew we'd hit a milestone in our friendship as she watched me obsess in my adult version of a candy store. I think we're still friends. We have plans tomorrow...here's to hoping she shows up.

#5. I am making this recipe that I saw in an episode of the Martha Stewart show last week. When I saw Martha make it, I figured it would be delicious. But the smells coming from the oven tell me this dish might surpass "delicious." That is, if I don't mess it up between now and dinnertime.

#6. Sometimes I think parenting exists in a time warp. It seems like one day I am standing in my friend's bathroom staring at the little pregnancy stick and thinking to myself, "Can this faint little pink line really mean I am going to have a baby?!" Then, what feels like the very next day, my daughter is sitting on our doorstep making adorable faces as I snap her picture. Other than some crazy, secret, time-warp conspiracy, what other explanation could there be?

Carrot soup

I think I may be a liar. At the very least, I have misled you. You see, when I created my header for this blog I tried to think of a short blurb about the things I am passionate about and would thereby be writing about. "Friends, Family, Photography, Food" made the final cut. So, let's see here. Friends...check. Family...check, check. Photography...(clearly) check, check, check. Food...flatline. I've got nothing. Well, not completely nothing. There were the roasted vegetables and the fruit salad. But they were a.long.time.ago. And if it counts, there were the posts about events revolving around food. On second thought...nah, those don't count! So in all fairness to food, it hasn't gotten a good showing here. I thought I'd live up to my promise today.

Truth be told, I LOVE cooking. I do it nearly every night. I often cook new recipes, sometimes 3 new ones a week. I follow food blogs. I bake. Evidence is clear: I love to cook. So amidst all this avid cooking, what is so bold as to break my culinary blogging silence? Cream of carrot soup. I first was introduced to this recipe by my friend when we were living in New Orleans. I told her one day I wanted to make a gourmet meal together. She whipped up this little dish with some homemade bread...I was smitten! Sitting on her front porch in New Orleans, talking about life, probably sweating profusely...a great memory. But this is decidedly a post about food and not friends, so I digress.

I have since made this soup a number of times, and every time I do I am more smitten with it every time. It calls for a splash of orange juice and some grated ginger which give it such a fresh and bright flavor. A little curry gives it some spice, and the mellow, sweet, earthiness of the carrots makes this an altogether savory soup. Another friend blogged about a similar version of this soup on the very day I made mine. She very accurately stated, "It's too good not to share." And I agree.

I served this twice. The first time I had the grandmothers and great grandmothers over for brunch. Served with a delicious chicken salad, the meal was quite nearly my idea of a perfect lunch. The next day I warmed it up and ate it with a slice of toasted whole wheat bread topped with a few slices of sharp cheddar cheese. Heavenly, even the next day!

Cream of Carrot Soup

from the Joy of Cooking

Heat in a soup pot over medium-low heat until the butter is melted:
1/4 cup water or stock
1 tablespoon unsalted butter (optional)

Add and cook, covered, stirring occasionally, until tender but not browned, 5 to 10 minutes:
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
1 tablespoon minced peeled fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon curry powder

Stir in:
4 cups chicken stock
1 cup fresh orange juice
1.5 pounds peeled, coarsely chopped carrots

Simmer for 15 minutes. Puree the soup using a hand held blender or very carefully in batches in your traditional blender.

Add 1/4 to 1/2 cup heavy cream or half-and-half.

Salt and pepper to taste.
Simmer briefly and ladle into bowls and serve.

I actually think this was a little too sweet so next time I would reduce the orange juice to 1/2 cup and increase chicken stock to 4.5 cups.

This is an excellent fall or holiday soup. It would be a delicious first course for a Thanksgiving feast. Enjoy!

Preparing for the next season

A few days ago I put in my cd player Vince Guaraldi's A Charlie Brown Christmas. I love that album. So simple. Jazzy piano numbers make you feel like you are standing right outside of FAO Shwartz in New York City on Christmas Eve. At least that is where it transports me. I know it is kind of early for this sort of behavior (unless you are a department store or Walmart). But I think I figured out where this bizarre behavior came from. You see, I think Halloween sneaked up on me. What with it being summer here until about 2 weeks ago, I kind of missed the "autumn" train. I saw the pumpkins for sale at the grocery store, and for a month I walked past them thinking, "I'm gonna get me one of those...next time."

And then October 29 rolled around.

I panicked. I had forgotten about that pumpkin. Eeck. Somehow that translated into, "Let's get prepared for Christmas so that doesn't pass us by." In went the Charlie Brown cd. Off went Karis and I to the library to pick out some autumn themed books. We also went to Walmart to pick out that pumpkin, but it was a meager showing. Three sad, small, disfigured options. Instead I opted for some cute little baby squash (or gourds?). And to satisfy that pumpkin craving, I made some pumpkin bread. Delicious, thank you for asking.

I love the seasons. I think they are an outdoor clock, of sorts. A beautiful, living calendar. I think I often enjoy the seasons as they are exiting, and I want to change that. I want to enjoy them as they enter, stay, and leave. I've thought about a few ways to accomplish that.

I'm thinking about putting up a bulletin board to hang little reminders of the season we are currently in. Even something as simple as "Happy Spring" would remind me to look out and enjoy the signs of the season. I am also going to try to cook more seasonally by shopping at my farmers market. Cooking with the harvest of the season. There are a few markets I want to check out. I'll let you know how that one goes.

My last endeavor will be to read books to Karis about the seasons. She is shaping up to be a very curious child (much like her momma). Exploring the outdoors, reading seasonal books from the library, crafts (when old enough) to celebrate the outdoors. These are a few of the commitments I am hereby making to ensure I don't experience another October 29 panic. (Yes, I know. This is also the date of "Black Tuesday", the day in 1929 when the stock market crashed. My panic is benign compared to that.)

I present to you the cutest, most adorable and crankiest little ladybug around. Here she is looking like a "superhero ladybug." I guess she had a little bit of costume identity confusion!

Can you hear the angels singing?

I can! Next week will mark the end of a very trying and difficult phase for our family. Matt will complete EMT school, thereby freeing up the 30+ hours of school related activities to do other things. And by other, I mean hang out with Karis and I. I am so excited I can barely stand it. Matt's absence 80 hours a week has not been good on any of us. But we have survived, and we certainly all appreciate each other A WHOLE LOT MORE.

So...Light up the grill. Start up the band, and bring on the parade. Let's celebrate time together as a family!!

I am having fun imagining all the things we will be able to do with his newfound free time. I think a little bit of this is in order:
and this,
and even some of this,
and this.

Pears, paint, and pastors

Yesterday restored my love for Saturdays. First off, there was a nip in the air. Yes, that's right. What has been talked about on blogs around the country for weeks now has finally hit North Florida. With temps in the upper 60's/lower 70's, I dare say fall has decided it was time to head our way. I even sit here writing away with the window open and a nice cool breeze coming in. I'm content.

Pears
I washed a pear yesterday and sliced through it. Then I stood there for a second staring at it. Then I ran and got my camera. This seems to happening a lot lately. Ordinary moments and objects catching my eye and begging to be captured with my camera. So I give you my latest find. A beautiful bartlett pear. Now really, folks. Isn't it beautiful with it's symmetry and graceful curves?

Here's to hoping you guys find beauty in the ordinary and mundane around you this week!

Paint
I spent yesterday afternoon working on a home improvement project that I hope to share here soon. I spread out the tarp and sat on my driveway painting while listening to the most recent edition of the Splendid Table. What is already such an inspiring show about all things food was particularly interesting today. The host interviewed Nigella Lawson, and they talked about good books revolving around the topic of food...my wish list continues to grow. I think I ought to label it a "check out from the library" list...my budget and my husband will thank me.

Pastors
We are the new guys in our neighborhood, and we are slowly but surely meeting people and getting a feel for the neighborhood vibe. Yesterday I got to hang out a little bit with a group of neighbors. Our children played together and we made pleasant small talk. The conversation turned toward discussing where Matt and I are from and our life story up to this point. I shared something that Matt and I have come to tell people rather hesitantly, only if necessary. I told them that he had worked for a church. I got a typical response: raised eyebrows and an "Oh."

It's not that I am ashamed of our work with the church. I treasure my relationship with Jesus. Matt and I have a passion to be around people who don't know Jesus or care much about His work in our lives. When we are often around such people we find that the revelation that we worked for a church automatically turns us into "holy people." You know, the curse word police or the one who has to pray at meals, or the one who wouldn't understand the way sin actually works as if we don't sin or are too hypocritical to admit it.

Anyways, now they know. I guess I just feel exposed and vulnerable. I know it will lead to good conversation down the road. And I hope my faith proves a whole lot more relational and relevant than the three options listed above.

Another "run, get the camera" moment last night: These candles were beautiful and aglow on our table. I particularly love how the wax slid down the candles and dangled precariously off the stand.

Two recent conversations

Conversation #1: While driving in the car with Matt

Me: (emphatically) "That does NOT look like a nice park to take children to!"

Matt: "It's a cemetery!" (laughing hysterically).

I think my point is still valid.


Conversation #2: On a walk with Karis

A few nights ago Karis and I head out to enjoy the evening breeze. We approach a nice elderly gentleman who is slowly making his way down the road using leg braces. Thinking nice thoughts about him and his courage to go for a walk when it is clearly a lot of work, we smile, stop, and introduce ourselves. Stu was his name and he was a friendly guy.

For the most part.

A few minutes into our small talk he looks at me and says, "I don't mean to be a wise guy but I have some stuff that you can put on your face and take care of that problem."

THE NERVE. Right? I am sure my face fell immediately. I felt my demeanor change. I couldn't help it. He hurt my feelings.

He then proceeds to tell me about this "stuff" he's got. When he fought in the Korean war, he and his fellow soldiers would apply this special cream to their wounds. He insists it would work great on my skin "problem." It even worked for a girl down the street, he says.

Ok, Stu. You crossed the line. First of all, your "Korean War cream" scares me. I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. Second, these aren't life threatening wounds sustained in the heat of battle. Just an ordinary, harmless nuisance.

Well, I've got to give Stu credit for at least perceiving I was put off. He began complimenting Karis on how cute she was. Then he tells me I am beautiful and how my eyes are lovely. Too late, buddy.

So how does Stu end this awkward conversation? He asks for my hand. I awkwardly give it to him not sure if he is going to give me a gentlemanly kiss or shake it. He then proceeds to hold my hand and stare off into space for a VERY LONG TIME. I am not sure if he is trying to remember something, practicing telepathy, or simply passing gas. Either way, I just stand there unsure how this is all going to end.

Finally, he snaps out of his trance and looks at me and says, "You will live a long life...I can feel it."

Yeah.

I think I managed a "thanks" before shoving off in the opposite direction.

A couple days later I pass him in my car. I wave, and I can tell he wants me to stop and talk. I was running late for an appointment and had to keep going. I sort of regret not stopping. Sort of. But, truth be told, I couldn't run the risk of him actually having a vial of his potion rustling around in his pocket that he'd been carrying around in the hopes that he would see me again. I just couldn't risk it.

An uncommon season

If you read my last post, you may have detected a wee bit of a whiney tone in it in regards to fall. Excellent sluething! I grew up in south Florida where the trees/palms have only heard distant rumors of their northern relatives' leaves changing colors. They themselves have never experienced the yearly change. And it's a shame, I say. Due to this childhood deprivation, I now LOVE the seasons and all the changes they bring with it. Now that we live back in Florida and a mere 6 hours north of my childhood home, I am rediscovering a Florida autumn.

I am still gathering data, but I am nearing the conclusion that, just like south Florida, this area doesn't see much in the way of fall. I am reassured by long time locals that cooler temps are to come. (Exhale in relief.) But the word on leaves changing colors: we are just a little too south to get any changes. (Sigh.)

Refusing to believe it and in an effort to boost my morale I went outside to look for some signs of fall, and, to my surprise, I found some..., er, one. Enter exhibit A:
I give you the one piece of evidence in my back yard that I found. And yes, that is a beautiful shade of red with the flecks of green from the summer dying off. It is browning around the edges and is tattered, probably from the recent rains we've been having. I think it is a great example of north tropical fall. Mind you, I had to go searching through the smatterings of brown leaves that simply died off without changing hues.

So how does a lover of autumn cope with such a meager showing? I go looking for the beauty that does exist. As long as I don't expect it to fit into the "autumn" file folder in my mind, I succeed in finding beauty in these parts. Enter exhibits B, C, and D:So as you romp around in your freshly raked piles of scarlet and golden leaves, as you pull that favorite wool sweater over your head, think of me in my flip flops and shorts. Make a cup of chai and enjoy this season.

And when winter rolls around, I'll think of you as I lay on the beach.