11/13/09

Adventures in Cooking

If you ever eat at my house, I would prefer you stop reading this blog right now.  You'd be too scared to ever eat my cooking again.  I mean it!  Stop reading!

Dammit.  I knew you wouldn't listen.

So, I'm really a pretty good cook.  I mean, I haven't actually killed anyone with my cooking yet, if you don't count the ones who had to be resuscitated by the paramedics.  But I have had a few notable failures, or at least unexpected results, and I feel like sharing.  Or shaming myself.  Or something.

The first one started when I invited my mother-in-law to dinner just a couple of months after I married her son.  I have since figured out that there should be a law that a newlywed is forbidden from feeding her in-laws until, say, 20 years have passed.  Just to take the pressure off, you know?  Congress?  Are you listening?  Well, anywho.  I don't remember what the dinner I served was, but I'll never forget the dessert.  I was going to make blueberry shortcake.  Susie Homemaker that I was, I used baking soda instead of the baking powder that the shortcake recipe called for, which I had run out of. 

My lovely little shortcakes, when topped with blueberries and whipped cream, had a metallic taste identical  to Arm and Hammer toothpaste.  I didn't know they made that toothpaste with butter, vanilla and baking soda, but now I know.  Blech.  It was horrible.  Mother-in-law was a good sport about it.  Or at least, she had steeled her nerves with enough whiskey that she didn't notice.  I'm not sure which.  I plan to steel MY nerves with whiskey before my first dinner with my son's wife.  If my sons ever get married.  But that's another question.

And then one day a dear friend and neighbor had given me a recipe for Tamale Casserole.  It had a cornbread topping and used a lot of ground meat, which made it a great recipe for me....  if you've ever had an elk or two in the freezer, you'll understand.  It's staggering how many packages of hamburger come from one elk.

So I grabbed a package of ground elk meat and browned it.  Not really thinking about the fact that this was an animal that we'd added some beef fat to the grinding, since elk is SO lean.  Yes, I'm trying to tell you without really admitting it that I didn't drain the browned meat.  I mixed in the rest of the casserole ingredients and went to make the cornbread topping. 

I only had 1/4 cup of yellow cornmeal.  But I had a whole bag of blue cornmeal.  So I mixed them.  My high school art and first-grade science classes eluded for a moment and I forgot my color wheel.  When I took this magnificent creation out of the oven, the greasy meat had boiled up through the tomatoes in the casserole, and mixed with cornbread batter on top. 

The thing looked like some kind of greenish, purplish dog puke.  (We have a very pukey dog, so I know about dog puke.)  It smelled good, and probably tasted alright, but none of us had the guts to try it.  So the pukey dog got it and we had Lucky Charms for dinner.  I have strong suspicion that when my pukey dog threw that casserole up, it was pretty nearly unchanged.

But my favorite....all-time favorite...was a sort of a camping fiasco.  The dear hubs and a good buddy were going way out to the middle of nowhere to camp and hunt.  I'm such a sweet wife, I really am.  I made a batch of Chicken Chili Verde for them to eat in camp.  It's good camping food, because you can heat it up quickly when the hunting day is over, which is late because of course you have to hunt until dark. It keeps well, and is very satisfying with the beer you are required to drink around the campfire. 

This was a real country food too, because we raised the chickens I threw in the pot, and grew the onions and garlic.  While the chicken simmered, I went to the garden and picked the green chilis.  Poured myself a nice little glass of wine, fired up the barbecue and roasted the chilis.

What I didn't do was taste the green chilis after they were roasted.  I skinned them and diced them and threw them in the pot with my lovely chicken meat and onions and garlic and all that good stuff.

The Sweet Hubs came home from that camping trip and said that the next time he brought meals from home to eat in camp, he was going to make sure to bring a bucket.  A bucket?

Yeah, he said he would bring a bucket and fill it with water.... to poop in because he was afraid that pooping in a hole in the ground the woods........ was going to start a forest fire.

I guess the chilis were a little hot.

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11/12/09

Forgive My Ranting

Pardon me, but I just have to rant a while.

I am sick to pieces of hearing about Jon and Kate.  Pardon me for thinking they were colossal idiots to put their lives and marriage on television and think everything would be fine.  A marriage without privacy is no marriage at all.  I don't care about Paris, Lindsey, Brittney or Nicole.  I don't care about the balloon boy's parents.  I think we need to just let Michael rest.  In peace.  Forever.  I don't give a rat's patootie about who in Hollywood is dating whom.  I don't even care who in my town is dating whom, unless it's my husband dating someone.  Then I'd care.

You better duck, folks, 'cuz here it comes....

This is all OUR fault.  Every time we click on a story about these pathetic human beings, a little hit counter somewhere tells the powers that be, "they want to read about this".  Stop clicking, dammit!   We buy those stupid celebrity rags, we bid on their chewed up gum on Ebay and we tear our clothes and cry when they walk through the airport.  To borrow a saying I read recently, sweet fancy Moses!  What is wrong with us?

Those stupid balloon parents are just the latest in a long line of publicity whores and I'm sick of it.  Can't we do something about this?  What if we all commit to STOP CLICKING on this crap, would it go away?  What if every one of us only clicked on a story that was of some actual significance, would it improve the national news?  If we only clicked on news stories that either mattered or uplifted, would we do away with the trash?

Close your eyes and think about it for a minute.  If bad behavior didn't earn the stars, starlets and wannabes any sort of recognition, but making a positive contribution to society did earn them recognition...what would happen?  Gasp!  Could it be?  Might that encourage them to do something good with their notoriety?  I admit it's unlikely, but what if?

What if playing your six-year-old as a pawn in your bid for spurious fame landed you quickly in jail, with no news coverage at all, and no one ever talked about you again?  Would people continue to try those stunts?

Did you ever read Jean Auel's Clan of the Cave Bear?  The protagonist of the story is cursed with death at the end of the story.  She doesn't really die, but she is dead as far as her clan is concerned.  They stop talking to her, stop paying attention to her, stop "seeing" her.  It was a horrible sentence.  Think about it.  We are social creatures, even we shy ones.  What if your whole world pretended you didn't exist?

That sort of punishment is part of the root idea of solitary confinement, banishment, shunning, exile, ostracism and every other painful way that societies have of making us behave.  I'm starting to think that shunning might just be the perfect answer.  Celebrities who misbehave, people who endanger others in their cry for media attention and all the rest of the "look at me" crowd...shunning might put a quick stop to all of that nonsense..

11/11/09

An Open Letter to All Our Veterans

Dear Veteran;

No words could express our gratitude.  Please don't believe what you hear from America's liberal media regarding the sentiments of the people.  We honor your efforts and your sacrifice.  America's opinions are not accurately reflected in polls, which are taken on the East and West coasts.  There is a whole big chunk in the middle over here, and we need you, love you and 100% support you.


 

11/10/09

I can say it. I was wrong.

I had a lot of misconceptions.  Really, I did.  I probably still do, but I haven't been smacked upside the head with any corrections lately.  So I'll share with you some of the things I was wrong about.
  • I like salt.  I thought you really couldn't over-salt things.  Well, you can.  I can even get things too salty for MY taste.  When my dinner guests fall on the floor and twitch like a dying beetle....?  I over-salted the dish.
  • I never paid much mind to the instructions on the sticker on a glass baking dish.  Certainly, not enough to remember those instructions for always.  At the expense of a pork tenderloin, I realized I was wrong to not remember the instructions.  You CAN get the oven too hot for those glass pans.
  • Mischievous is NOT pronounced miss-CHEEVE-ee-yous.  I said it that way for years.  Duh.
  • Is it feed a cold and starve a fever?  Or starve a cold and feed a fever?  Either one is wrong.  Now I think the answer is to eat if you can keep it down. 
  • 29 years ago, I did not attend the wedding of a dear friend.  It was her second marriage and my ultra-conservative dad forbad me from going for religious reasons.  Yvette?  Where ever you are...I was wrong.  This was one instance when I should have defied my father and followed my own conscience.  I'm as sorry as I can be.
  • When my youngest son had a mean, evil, mentally unbalanced teacher, I told him he had to stick it out.  He had to learn how to get along with all sorts of people in this life.  I was wrong.  I should have yanked him out of her class, told her to her face why, and found him a sane teacher.   It was only first grade.  That lesson could have waited for another day.
  • Contrary to what I would like to think, and what I did at one time believe, I can not carry a tune.  Not even with a bucket.
  • Yes, I CAN drive at Sky Harbor Airport!  I was wrong.  It scares me to pieces, but I can do it.
  • Momma always told me that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  I believed her and adopted that theory for my own.  I was wrong.  The way to a man's heart is a lot further south than his heart.
  • I was wrong.  Men don't necessarily like high-maintenance women.  Oh, sure, they like to look at them, but that doesn't mean they want to keep one forever.  So I was wrong.  Men want real woman, with real curves, an actual appetite, the ability to laugh at themselves and ...  um.....  well.... see my previous comment.
  • Watching my parents, as I was growing up, I thought I knew what love looked like.  I was wrong.  It's different for everyone.  My sweet hubs doesn't demonstrate his love for me in the same way (HEY!!  This is a new topic here, so forget the previous two entries for a second!!) that my Dad showed Mom that he cared.  My husband is a quiet man of action.  (OK, maybe it's not so far from that topic...).  I kept expecting him to show me he loved me by bringing me flowers or taking me to fancy restaurants.  I was wrong.  He shows me in ways that suit me and him.
  • Years ago, I thought my biggest flaws were my bumpy nose, oily skin and disappointing hair.  I was wrong.  My biggest flaws are my big mouth and my lazy bottom.  But I'm working on those.  I can live with the flaw of my mathematical ineptitude.  Maybe being able to live with that is another flaw, too, but I might be getting myself into an unending trap.

11/5/09

So There!

Alright, my dear friend!  If you can steal my ideas, I'll just steal yours right back! :-)

So this is stuff you might not know about me, Part II--What I Like (in no specific order):.
  1. Having coffee with my sweet hubs on the porch on a Sunday morning.
  2. Fried green tomatoes.  I can eat myself sick on them.
  3. "Lonesome Dove"--the book and the mini-series.  I also love the rest of the Call and McCrae books by Larry McMurtry.
  4. Roasting green chilis on the barbecue.  When we had a big garden, it was one of my joys to pick a mess of chilis, light the barbie, turn on some good bluegrass and pour myself a glass of wine.  We had a gorgeous barbecue gazebo and it was a gorgeous place to just enjoy a simple moment.
  5. The satisfaction of visible result:  a beautiful loaf of homemade bread; a skirt that I made myself; the arrangement of pine cones and fall leaves and pumpkins that sits on my kitchen island right now.  I work at a job that yields no visible evidence of how hard I work.  It's a pleasure to do something that I can see and touch.
  6. The way that my willful, opinionated dog gets into a game of fetch. 
  7. A really good, tree-ripened nectarine.
  8. A little time to myself.  Which is only special because it's the exception.  So, no, I wouldn't trade away the sweet hubs, the towering teenager and the ornery dog for full-time solitude.
  9. The furniture and other things my hubs makes in his spare time.  He's an artist in wood and antler.
  10. The way it felt when I had a couple of my essays published.  I really need to get back on that.
  11. My dearest Aunt Francine.  She is a ray of sunshine in a family of drips.
  12. A song from your past that brings up all the good feelings that were once associated with it.
  13. Being able to go barefoot all weekend.
  14. Good hair days.
  15. Trying something new and succeeding at it.
  16. Being needed.  Making a positive contribution to my home, my workplace, my community and my world.
  17. Happy memories and funny memories of loved ones who are gone.
  18. Old black and white photos of my ancestors.  I have one of my great-grandparents with my grandpa as a three year old, taken circa 1893.  Very cool.
  19. The way our little town smells on cool mornings:  pine trees and wood smoke.
  20. Sunsets.

11/3/09

Pieces of Happiness

I realize how silly this sounds, but I rather enjoy how hard it is to get out of bed this time of year. There is something very pleasant about "sleeping weather" so good that you have to force yourself to get up. The room is very cool and the light is dim. My blankets are heavy and soft: always the best way to sleep. Since my dear honey is an early riser, there is usually the smell of coffee in the house. Hitting the snooze one more time is a treat in the autumn.




My grandma always told me that happiness is something you make for yourself. It doesn't happen to you, no one can make you become a happier person. You have to create it for yourself from the bits and pieces that make up your life. I think she was absolutely right. If I sat around waiting for something to happen that would make me happy, I'd be moving backwards. All I have to do is take a good look at every day, and I find all the building blocks I need.

 

I love each season in its turn. Right now I revel in the arrival of autumn. I'll enjoy winter just as much when it begins.

You Might Not Know...

Just for fun, I thought I'd post some things you might not know about me. 
  1. I miss being able to drink chocolate milk.  Being lactose-intolerant...I can live without cheese pizza and ice cream, but I sure do miss chocolate milk.
  2. I am the youngest grandchild on my paternal side. 
  3. My first car was an olive green Plymouth Volare station wagon.  I know, huh? I recovered from that unfortunate beginning with the help of minimal therapy and more horsepower.
  4. My mother sometimes forgets my name.  I think this is because I am the youngest.  But I can't prove it.  And no, it isn't her old age...she's been doing that for... always.
  5. Red licorice is gross.
  6. I have two middle names.
  7. I was rejected for kindergarten.  That's right.  They wouldn't take me.  I had to wait a year and start with first grade.  I still feel cheated.  And I never learned how to share.
  8. The first pet of my own I ever had was a yellow parakeet I named "Buttercup".
  9. I shot a bison.  And ate it, too.  It only took me a moment to shoot it, but it sure takes a long time to eat one.
  10. My Dad used to take me fishing. 
  11. My husband used to take me fishing.  Do you see a trend forming here? 
  12. I have moved or been moved 11 times in my life.
  13. I was fired from my very first job, as a typesetter at the local newspaper.
  14. I was a stay-at-home mom for almost 10 years.
  15. I don't know how to swim.  Or ski, or play tennis, or golf, or rollerskate, or play volleyball or....
  16. My hair color is natural.  Nobody would choose this color on their own, I promise.
  17. I weigh more now than I ever have, except for when I was pregnant.
  18. Dogs belong to the order Canidae and the platypus belongs to the order Monotremata. 
  19. My car is pretty fast.
  20. I make amazing chicken tetrazzini, but my chili will kill you.  Or at least, wound you.
  21. My ancestry includes Dutch, Belgian, German and French.  75% Dutch and the other quarter is a little bit of the rest of those.  I guess it is only natural that I like Dutch chocolate, Belgian endive, German bratwurst and French wine?
  22. I am still a little bit afraid of dogs.
  23. I have cooked Thanksgiving dinner 21 times.  In a few weeks, it will be 22.
  24. When I was about ten, I accidentally found my Christmas presents where Mom had hidden them.  It RUINED Christmas for me.  It really was an accident, but I've never forgotten it.  I never try to find out what a gift is ahead of time now.
  25. I miss my Dad and my Grandmas.

10/29/09

Three Virtues, and Voting for a Fourth

I’ve been thinking about the three theological virtues: faith, hope and charity. It’s been a long time since I studied my catechism, but maybe age and experience is a better teacher than the Baltimore Catechism anyway? My Dad was the best teacher of religious theory in my life, and he’s gone now. He wouldn’t have approved of all my ideas, conservative man that he was, but it was his teaching that launched my own quest for understanding.   (By the way, if you are not in the mood for a spiritual contemplation, here....click 'back' or something.)

Can we talk about why these three virtues are considered to be different than other virtues such as prudence and temperance? I don’t know what the church teaches about it, and I don’t especially care. (Do I hear thunder?) It seems to me that what makes faith, hope and charity different from all other virtues is that these three are between me and God in a way the others are not. Prudence and temperance are about my behavior, and are not really demonstrations of devotion, unseen by others.  Theological virtues are a private matter between me and God. (When I get to charity, I’ll tell you why I think charity isn’t a behavior.)

Faith. What is it? Really? Is it the unquestioning acceptance of what you’ve been taught, a firm belief in God? I think it’s so much more than that.  No, I don't think it's that at all, in fact.  I think faith is a genuine, deep examination of what you think, see and feel, and arriving at a positive assurance in your own heart about the presence of God and His intentions for you.

Did you ever give your spouse a book of coupons for personal favors? (Stay with me here…) Either the storebought sort you might buy at Spencers or maybe a handcrafted set, promising that upon presentation, you will wash his car, fix her breakfast in bed, do the dishes, whatever?

Would you give your spouse a coupon for “anything”? Pure and simple, whatever they ask, you will do. Bungee jumping off the Leaning Tower of Pisa, making love in a tool shed on display at the Home Depot, sell your car, move to Australia, get his mother’s name tattooed on your rump…whatever they ask, it is theirs. OK, I admit that last one would be mighty disturbing on a lot of levels.

I can hear you groaning at the idea. “What if he wants me to hunt brown bears on Kamchatka? Ugh!” (I’m sure you can think of more heinous requests than that.) Think hard. Would you trust your spouse to not ask of you anything that would hurt you, shame you, or endanger your relationship? Could you really give them carte blanche in such a way?

If you said, “Yes, I could.”, then I would say you have faith in your spouse. You are confident that you can trust them with your heart, body and soul. (And reputation). Isn’t that what we are doing when we have faith in God? Not blindly believing, but trusting that He has our best interests at heart. Choosing to trust, eyes open, that what He decides will be good?

Faith is a tough one to really DO, isn’t it?

Let’s talk about the second one: HOPE.

I was chatting with my favorite email philosopher about hope. For a long time, I had trouble with the idea of hope and what it really means. It seemed to me that the concept of hope was at odds with my firm belief that God helps those who help themselves. I would hear people say, “We’ll just hope for the best”, and then they’d sit back and expect the heavens to open and their problems to vanish in a puff of pink smoke or something. It can’t possibly work that way, can it?

Then I read (in some book, somewhere) the sentence: “The gods like the taste of salt.” In other words, the sweat of our brows is appetizing to the gods. Hmm. Eureka!  Clarity, at last!

Which gifts received mean the most to us? The quick last-minute-picked-up-at-the-airport-gift-shop sort of thing? Or the thing that the giver made especially with you in mind? Even if the gift itself is imperfect, the love and pleased expectations of the giver make it a gift to treasure.

What does this have to do with hope? Hold your horses and I’ll tell you. I think to hope is to have an expectation for a positive outcome of your labors, whether those labors be prayer or work or having babies or making a souffle’. I think when we hope, we are putting forth our best efforts, with the HOPE that those will be pleasing to God and that ultimately, good things will result.

Failing to hope is to give in to despair. And to despair is to say, “Things won’t improve, I can’t do better, God doesn’t care and I give up.” How would you feel if your child said to you, “I can not please you, you don’t like me, I’ll never amount to anything and I give up.” If one of my sons were to say such a thing to me, it would break my heart. How must God feel, when He is so infinitely loving?

We aren’t talking about good works, here. Putting forth your well-intentioned labors for others is its own reward and a way to demonstrate your affection for God and your fellow human being. Hope is about keeping a positive attitude that lets you continue to work on, even when you aren’t seeing the immediate results you might want.

Hope is your absolute trust in a better day, given to you courtesy of The One who gets to hand such things out. Hope is about putting your best effort forth at all things, knowing that God likes the taste of salt and that a cheerful heart will bring you to a happy result–sooner or later.

Every one of us feels thwarted in our efforts, disappointed in our results and discouraged by our setbacks. These things do not excuse despair. To despair is to turn your back on God. Even in those darkest hours at the end of a painful illness, there is still hope. Maybe you can’t hope for a full recovery, but you can hope for comfort, surcease for your loved ones, and the ultimate positive outcome of your life’s labors.

Now, charity. Charity is a funny word. We use the word charity when we really mean something else entirely. It’s a noun. It’s an adjective. It’s even a proper name.

I have some very specific opinions about the meaning of charity. (I know this will surprise you if you’ve been reading my blog–that I might have an opinion.) There are hundreds of examples of false charity available for your viewing pleasure; just look in any direction or turn on the television.

My personal definition of charity came from a variety of religous schools of thought, distilled down through time and consideration into my own formula. I believe that charity is a way of working on God’s behalf, doing those things that you think God Himself would personally do if He were in your metaphorical shoes. God wouldn’t do a good thing and then go around bragging about it. He does His thing and says nothing. Did you ever look into the autumn sunset, admire the gorgeous color and then see the clouds shape up to say “Look what I did!!”? No. God does His thing and leaves us to do ours and we should all just shut up about it.

I think if you do a good thing and turn it into a television show — figurative or literal — you have subtracted the goodness from it. You turned it into entertainment and shot charity right between the eyes.

True charity should not hurt the pride of the recipient. Maybe this is too easy in our current Age of Entitlement. Far and away too many people feel entitled to receive charity and hence, have no pride. That’s for another rant. A talented altruist can help other people without making them feel small. In a perfect world, the recipient of your help wouldn’t even know it was you. Not always easy but it can be done.

This one is a little more difficult: giving away something you don’t want is not charity. It isn’t!!! To be an act of charity, it has to hurt a little, folks. I can give you my old clothes and be glad for the closet space, but that isn’t charity. Now if I gave you my car because you needed one? That would charity. I love my car! To count as charity, there must be some quality of effort on the part of the giver.

Here is where the rest of America and I will diverge. Helping doesn’t always help. I still struggle with this, but time will give me clarity, I am sure. If someone is hungry and you feed them, maybe all you did was feed them, not help them. Helping the poor to make a better life is helping. Helping the poor so that they never attain the skills to rise from poverty is not. That old saying about teaching a man to fish, right?

Giving money to a charitable organization is not necessarily an act of charity. Neither is picking an angel off the Angel Tree at Christmas. They are certainly acts of kindness, but maybe not charity. Just because it barks doesn’t mean it’s a dog.

Charity isn’t always giving away some tangible thing. Charity can be as simple as reserving judgement, holding your tongue or giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Charity can be not saying something. Charity can be saying something that is hard to say, but needs to be heard. Charity can be going, or staying at home.

Charity is looking at world around you with clear eyes, an open heart and a wise mind, rolling up your sleeves, and making it happen. Silently.

So, I’m thinking about getting up a petition to appoint a 4th theological virtue, but I can’t decide which one I’d vote for.

How about the virtue of humility? Patience? Gratitude? Alacrity is sure one of my personal faves. Kindness? Compassion? Empathy? Honesty? Integrity? Loyalty? Oh…so many to choose from.

Humility seems a likely candidate. One thing I really can’t stand is being around someone who thinks they’re all that (and a bag of chips). Most of those folks have very little to crow about, as far as I can tell. I admire someone who does much, says little, listens rather than talks (trying to learn to do that better myself), and is genuinely aware that they do not know everything.

Patience is good, but can be a double-edged sword. Too many times I patiently wait for something, past the point of reason and then the next thing I know my patience has transmuted into inaction. Not good.

Gratitude. I like gratitude. I have much to be grateful for (which is another post). I don’t want your gratitude; I want to be aware of how much is mine only through the grace of others. You will understand, I'm sure, that I’m not talking only about the tangible.

Alacrity is a fine thing, too. Nothing brightens my day in the same way as a person who works with cheerful quickness. If that person is my own son, then I feel like they learned something important to the success of their life. If that person is a colleague, it makes everyone else’s day brighter and easier.  And if that person is someone with whom I am doing business, it makes me feel like a valued and appreciated customer.

Honesty and integrity are wonderful virtues, but too often conceal a darker side. Many a hurtful word is said under the pretense of being honest. And integrity can sometimes go hand-in-hand with unyielding stubbornness. Each is a virtue on its own, but each one can also be a cover--or an excuse-- for a less admirable trait.

I’m in favor of kindness, compassion and empathy, too. Those are all lovely virtues to have.

You know what? I think I know what the fourth virtue should be. Balance. We need all of the other virtues, but we must have balance to them or we may fail to temper our honesty with kindness, our integrity with compassion and so on. Yep. Balance. That’s where it’s at, baby.

WTH???

Something happened at work today which was disturbing.  I'm not going to tell you that it rocked me to my core, because I've been getting other indications that this was coming.  Still, it was disturbing.

I received an email from an underwriter, asking me for more information on an antique/classic auto that was being referenced in an insurance policy.  I open up the file, and review the auto in question.  It's a 1980 GMC Pickup. 

A 1980 truck is an antique?  Let me get this straight.  A vehicle that came onto the market when I was old enough to drive it...is an antique??????????  Oh.  My.  Gosh. 

I should have known it was going to happen.  I've seen toys on the Antiques Road Show that were just like something I played with..  Yeah, and even the lunch box I carried to school...admired by some darn appraiser for its great condition, considering its age.  Sheesh.

I should have known when the cable-sweater tights that I wore as a girl came back into fashion.  Or when the "golden oldies" stations stopped playing Nat King Cole and started playing Three Dog Night.  I even heard Blondie on that station.  And Pat Benetar!

A "retro" look in a fashion magazine looks a lot like my high school year book.  Hmmm.  People get nostalgic over big hair, shoulder pads and dolphin shorts. ??  Oh, here's a good one:  One day my youngest son stopped by my office and saw the Brother electric typewriter in the back corner:, "What is THAT thing?".  Yeah, I know.  He had a similarly agog reaction to carbon paper.  "Why don't you just print it twice if you need two copies?"  What would he say if he know about mimeograph sheets that you had to correct with a little ether?  Or how excited I was when they came out with correction strips, instead of those horrid erasers that would erase a hole in your paper, or white-out which you had to wait for it to dry?  Do you remember when IBM invented the self-correcting "Selectric II"?  It would erase the last letter, if you hadn't typed anything past that point.  If I remember right, both pitches (10pt Pica and 12pt Elite) were available on interchangeable balls.  It was all that and a bag of chips, I'm telling you.

The first time I looked at one of those surveys and my age-range was over half-way through the list of choices, I should have noticed.  I definitely noticed it when a client sat at my desk one day (and I'm sorry to report this was quite a few years ago) to discuss professional liability insurance for his dentistry practice, and he was much younger than I.  He was old enough to have gone through all the years of school that it takes to be a dentist, start a practice, get married, have kids....  but he was still younger than me.

I called someone in her late 20s a "kid" the other day. 

I need to call that underwriter about the antique auto.  It might make me feel better if we can re-classify that.

10/26/09

A Peek Into Your Soul

I'm working on a project for a friend.  She's also my boss, but I'm going to talk about the friendship part.  It's a project that gave me an insight....

I've known her for about ten years.  We've seen each other at school, when she was my child's teacher.  We sat next to each other at a fundraising banquet.  She's been at my house, where we laughed about life in the country.  She likes my bread pudding and I think her lemon bars are TO DIE FOR.  I know her kids and she knows mine.  Our husbands went to high school together.  I even plagiarized the colors of her living room walls for my own.  (She was very generous about the theft, too.)

Today I saw something completely new in her.  I got a peek into her soul.  You see, my friend is an artist.  I've seen her art many times and I am jealous of her talent in the most friendly, loving sort of way.   She needs a website, and I'm working on building it for her.  Today I was looking at about 40 pictures of her as she is painting.  And I saw someone I had previously only guessed at.

The pictures themselves are beautiful, I think.  The light in the room is lovely and the colors are warm and inviting.  The painting she is working on is beautiful.  But the part that made me really stop and look and smile was her.  She's relaxed.  Glowing.  Completely in her happy place.  Even her hair is shining more beautifully than ever.  Yeah, I'm jealous of her hair, too.... The tension is out of her arms and hands, and her eyes are lit from a place within, heretofore unseen. 

Since my dear friend hates having her picture taken, and since I understand that completely,  I chose a picture that leaves her in some anonymity.  This is temporary, because I (she calls me her evil webmistress...) am MAKING her include some photos of herself on her web page.  While I'm working on building a web page, she is getting used to being in the public eye by blogging.  You can read her blog here:  http://www.tinacrabdreeart.blogspot.com/




Once in a great while, you get to share a moment with someone.  You get to feel their joy, or their peace, or even their sorrow and connect to them in a whole new way.  I don't know squat about painting, but I know what peace looks like when I see it.  And it's beautiful.

Have you found that place in your soul?  That comfortable, peaceful, blissful place that lets you know that all is right and you are where you belong?  I find moments of it when I write, or when I turn out an especially nice loaf of bread.  Sometimes I find it when a friend asks for guidance and I am able to help them find the light again.  So far, I haven't managed to take the time to really apply myself to any of those things. 

I think that those moments, however long we get to enjoy them, are about as close as we get in this world....to God.