Lemons

 

I was grumpy last week. I hate being grumpy because it makes me more grumpy.

 

So I reminded myself how good I've got it.  I read stories of inspiration, here and here. I ran with my son.  I ran through the winter wheat that's such a shocking bright green against the blue sky that I not  only see life, I feel it.  I ran a faster than normal 10 extremely hilly miles past picture perfect equestrian farms all alone and pushed myself when I wanted to quit to see if I would and didn't. I made lemon scones for my daughters and popcorn the old-fashioned way and wondered why I EVER quit.

 

In the end I realized I have nothing but a bunch of FWPs (first world problems) that aren't even problems at all.  And the next time I'm grumpy I get to do it all over again.

 

 

 

Thanksgiving

I spent the better part of two days baking, chopping, cleaning, preparing, mixing and cooking and when I rolled out of bed Friday morning my legs ached from my knees down, my belly was still full up to my neck and my hands were swollen from too much salt. But, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat, it was totally worth it as it is every year.

For many reasons it is perhaps my most favorite holiday, only now that I'm an adult. And that is often what I'm most thankful for, the holiday itself, the new traditions we're creating here for the kids, the chance to celebrate with family for family's sake, to recognize our collective blessings and state them aloud. There are so many good things about this day. Then there's the food.

Homemade sausage cornbread stuffing (a new addition),







chocolate cheesecake with an Oreo crust (new this year too, gotta have chocolate),



among all the other favorites

including very old linens on very old tables,

using every square inch of furniture,

down to the simple place cards that I let my girls make every year. I love to see how they change. We even managed a super-moist and tender turkey convincing me once again that it's all about the brine. Trust me. It's one of the best parts, me and my husband in our pajamas, wrestling a 16 lb turkey into a big pot of salty, sugary, watery mix and then flipping it over the next morning. You should try it.

For really no reason at all...

....other than this is where my thoughts are, tangled up in my surroundings, scooping leaves out of dog bowls and watching the colors fall... cuddling up on cold nights when darkness comes too soon... preparing for Thanksgiving and bringing to mind all those things I am so thankful for....

Thank you

This post is for the co-workers that stop me in the rehab gym and tell me they read my blog the night before. It's for the others who tell me they want every necklace they see me wear. It's for my new friends, old friends, work friends, unknown-never-to-be-met friends who tell me they faithfully read.

It's for my husband, his grandmother, my in-laws, my brother-in-law, his girlfriend (can I say that yet?), and the extended family who also read this ramble.

It's for the friends I know who help promote and for the friends I don't know who surprise with their accolades. And of course for my customers, new, repeat and wannabes, I'm grateful for you all.

You get the point. It's for all of you out there who don't have to read but for your own separate reasons still do. It's for the ones who call me 'artist' and 'creative', I thank you all and am so happy that you keep coming to visit.

As I have nothing more, today I'll leave you with some of the latest uploads to my shop. In order they are barely yellow, simple silver and early purple, this last one made specifically for Sheila and named after my earliest blooming and oldest country iris that look so pretty right now. Maybe tomorrow I'll show them to you.

Rain and cake

dressed to get wet, I put on my running shoes
borrowed my son's ipod
flew
4.5 miles instead of my usual 3
left the dog behind and didn't feel guilty
this time it was for me
listened to this song on repeat
and flew
felt free
felt the rain sprinkling against my face
and watched it drip drip from my hat
heard my shoes slush in the mud and leftover snow
began to build back up what had slowly been torn down
me
self-worth
strength
peace
stopped apologizing for everything
dropped it all right there
the weight of the world
and felt free
and flew
and celebrated with my chocolate cake

the Christmas list

"Why don't Moms and Dads make Christmas lists? I really think you should make one, mommy. What do you want for Christmas? You really need a list."

"I don't really think I need anything more," I said, "I have so much already, don't you think?"

And it was then that I felt old, or maybe not so much old as content, calm, happy. As with each Christmas that passes, this one is turning out to be more about the giving not only of gifts but of time, effort, attention, warmth, pleasantness, as these are gifts I give also to myself.

I focus also on expressing thanks, still, even though the one time a year we set aside for that has passed. Sharing the gift of gratitude, not for things, but for the intangibles in ones life, for love, friendship, peace, understanding and patience. For safety, faith, forgiveness and wisdom, as these are the things for which I'm most grateful, the things that make me laugh, or cry, and feel full. My acknowledgement and ability to pass them on is my act of thanks, the outward sign that I understand my place here, what my time is for and the worth of my life.

Yet there is longing still when I stop to think about it, for time more than anything else. Time outdoors, time with the changes of the day, time with camera in hand, the sun on my face and the stillness to hear, feel, wonder and know. Time for pictures like the one above, an unexpected shot for a beach vacation, but memorable, maybe even moreso than the beach itself.

The short list

When I need to keep things in perspective, when I want something I don't need, when myself gets in the way, not much helps bring me back around better than a gratitude list. So here's a few things I'm thankful for today.

a field full of round bales


three freshly showered, sunkissed, pool-tired, waterlogged kids snuggled up with each other on the couch
the smell of chicken roasting in the oven and fresh veggies from the garden
full tummies and empty plates
health, whole bodies, whole minds
time and the creativity to utilize it
fresh ferns hanging from a farmhouse porch


Kevin
freedom of choice
and the courage to use it

We're thinking of adding on

Another day, more vanishing peaches and the door to the trap is closed but no groundhog. Kevin says he's too big and the door doesn't close all the way so he can still get out after he steals the peach. He says he needs to put an addition on the trap. Not kidding. An addition for the rodent. We're in the planning stages.

With vacation bible school this week I'm way behind on what I need to make. Some custom orders, a personal baby gift to make, a wholesale order and just replenishing the shop from the market last week could be a full time job in and of itself. So of course I'm here right now, watching "Flipping Out" on TV (a study on a control freak who takes himself waaay too seriously) with a half made bootie in my lap.

I leave you with a picture of the blooming cannas, before the Japanese beetles devour them. And after a heavy conversation with friends at the pool today about divorce, infidelity, addiction, kids left in the wake, I'm so not sweating the small stuff.

Gratitude and the super hero complex

I was driving home this morning after dropping Allie off at preschool and a trip to the grocery store, when I started thinking about what I would post today. What do I possibly have to offer anybody today? I thought. I'm completely and utterly exhausted, I have no new pictures of knitting to show. No words or great insight to share. I don't really have anything to say about anything. (There you heard it, the ugly voice of negativity that takes over especially when my defenses are down, and I'm not paying attention.)


"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel was on the radio and I thought, well, at least I'm thankful for music. And I'm thankful for friendships, old and new, for the mere ability to knit, for my kids, my husband who cares about me even when things are a little off track, business that has, well, been keeping me busy, for shelter, food, blue sky and new growth.







And there you have it--one attitude--changed. All with a little sunshine, some good music and most of all, gratitude.


I fall into that same trap that so many of us do, and expect myself to be super human. That somehow magically at the 3 week mark of this bout with mono I would suddenly be able to pop out of bed and resume all normal activity. How wrong I was. On Monday I thought it would be completely fine to go (with Allie) to the post office, grocery store, out to lunch and shopping with an out-of-town friend, ride around with her all afternoon, walk through a house Kevin's building and then top it off with a preschool fundraiser with Kevin and the kids to Chuckie Cheese of all places. Afterward I literally thought I was going to leave behind a trail of body parts on my way out to the car. Such complete exhaustion is indescribable.



And, ignorantly since then I've done a bunch of laundry, cooking, and caring for children. I've been to the post office 3 more times, bible study, grocery store again, made multiple trips back and forth to school and the real kicker was trying to stand up for handbell practice at church last night. After 15 minutes I was propping myself up with the table and the wall. Finally I sat down. The worst part is how irritable the fatigue makes me. It's like this little squawking bird pops out of my mouth like a cuckoo clock and says things like, "Get out of the kitchen!", "get your shoes off the couch!", "do your homework!". ugh.



So instead, today has been about gratitude. That errands don't fill my day with anything but errands, and constant activity only means that I'm unsettled. I'm finding other hidden perks to this whole situation as well. Like it's easy to save money when you don't spend it, and somehow my wardrobe is just fine when I can't go shopping.