Sunday, September 27, 2015

Update on Dreadlocks

The finished product *for now*
I also trimmed my own bangs because who needs to pay a hairdresser?
#frugal #cheap

Well, the dreads are all in. I finally got the last ones knotted up the first weekend in August, which was a huge relief.  I had been trying to get them done for two months.  I don't know if I should mark June as their birthday or August, but it will make me feel more accomplished to say June,  so I'll probably go with that.  I really thought once my husband was on summer vacation that I'd have nothing but time to sit and back comb my hair and that I'd get them done in a couple of days. But then he was off work and I just wanted to hang out with him! So we hiked a lot and went for walks or took our little one to the park. Or did some renovations. Turned out that the time I had to work on my dreads was mostly in the vehicle as we drove to places to have fun! So it took a lot longer to wrap them up than I had anticipated.
On top of Mt. Albert in Beauvais Lake Provincial Park

And now, my friends, the maintenance. I am already behind on it and as a result have some dreadlocks forming congas at the roots. As well, my hair is supa fuzzy on top. And everywhere. I did a couple hours worth of maintenance on the top/front dreadlocks because I had a wedding to attend and wanted to try to tame the beast a bit, but that was last week and today I couldn't really tell I had done anything.  I NEED to get back at it because I have just a few short weeks until I am going to seriously neglect them for months! There is a user I follow on Instagram called @wonderlocks and they posted a video on YouTube about how to deal with congas and how to prevent them.  I haven't watched it. I probably should. Instead, I just cut them apart if I can't pull them apart and use my crochet hook to try and tighten those roots up. I partly think I am doing it wrong and partly think, "What the crap. They are just big knots. How could there possibly be a wrong way to make them?" 

After all, I do what I want.

There are occasions in life I believe in taking the time to watch a YouTube video or six to learn something before you try it. Like I did before I started this whole dreadlock journey.  Or when I learned to drywall. But this is not one of those times. The few minutes it would take me to find, watch, and evaluate the usefulness of these videos is more than I am willing to spend.  I could just be doing the maintenance with that time. Or reading my kid "The Gruffalo" one more time. Or writing. Or cleaning/cooking/gardening/laundering/some other useful if tedious task required in the keeping of a household. There is a time for trolling the internet for information and there is a time to just work it out on your own.

So I am up late drafting a blog post instead of dealing with my conga situation. Late because I spent an hour scrolling through Instagram. Bah. 

*I know complaining about social media in a blog post is kind of biting the hand that feeds, but this blog makes me no money. I also know I am going to link this post on my Instagram and Facebook pages in hopes some of you friendly people out there read it, so there is also that irony, but I am going to go a head and share my struggle with the mindless scroll anyway.*

I need to also get a handle on my social media habits.  Time to trim back on the screen time and think more about my creative time, family time and necessary task time. Although in the past couple of days I have made 4 extra freezer meals swept the floors (which I do plan to wash tomorrow) and wiped down the bottom half of the kitchen walls. Thanks to no Insta' or Facebook during the day. I don't know if I'm nesting, realized I only have limited time to accomplish some of these pressing tasks, or am experiencing social media freedom, but I am grateful to have those things done. I like looking at the walls and seeing significantly less dirt streaks and fingerprints. 

Tomorrow I'll be satisfied with washing the floors, finishing the design work on an anthology project I am part of, and actually doing some work on these dreads. On top of the regular things like little kid music class and having my friend and her kids over for lunch. (UPDATE: The floors never got washed, I still need to wrap up that design work, and I finally worked on my dreads about two days after I wrote the draft of this post for about an hour. Life, my friends.)

I had better get to bed. Looks like a big day tomorrow.

Peace

Friday, September 11, 2015

Writing Prompt #16

I have been writing down the writing prompts that Lil Blue Boo has been posting on her blog, and while she is on prompt #40-something, I am way back on number 16.

Since I have been trying to think about craft and challenge when it comes to writing, I decided to tackle this one as a poem. I haven't written a poem in at least 3 years.

Prompt #16  -- Pick one word and write where it takes you:
CORNERED
KNOW-IT-ALL
SALTWATER



All life
is made of 
saltwater.

People say Adam
was made of 
dust.

But it was the
saltwater that brought
him to life.

Saltwater oozes 
from our pores
from our eyes.

Expressed from our
bodies when we 
are wounded.

Or when we 
are elated,
united.

Our first home is 
a dark sea of 
saltwater;

Where we learn 
to breathe
to dance.

At the end they 
drain the sea from
our bodies

And put us in 
the ground
to dry.





Peace


Tuesday, September 8, 2015

About Writing....

Journal-ling on my deck. AKA "my happy place"
I have been getting excited about writing again. To be honest, I am always excited about writing. I have an inner monologue that runs in my head as if I were constantly writing a journal entry. Some nights I lay awake and think about what I wish I was writing in my journal, but I often don't get up to write. Instead, I rationalize that I am too tired, or will need to be up with the babe soon and I should just go to sleep. I would probably be further ahead if I just got up and wrote for half an hour and then went back to bed instead of mulling it all over for an hour or two.
The elusive "sleeping baby"
Tonight, I didn't even try to lay down to sleep. I went out to a movie with some girls and had a large Coke and popcorn, so I am all jazzed up on sugar and caffeine. Not to mention all that popcorn in my pregnant body is giving me some serious heartburn. Babies take up so much room! There will be no sleeping for a little while yet. 

Since July, I have been more motivated to make an effort to write every damn day. It's a hashtag. I have been following the writing prompts of "lilblueboo's" blog and while I have only done about a dozen of them, they are a great way to get me putting pen to paper, telling stories I might never have written down and actually making me think about my craft. So far, I hadn't written anything today besides copying some recipes from the interwebs into my "make-your-own-cookbook", so this is an opportunity I will not waste. And what better way than to put up a blog post?
Writing Prompt #6 - Courtesy of lilblueboo.com

I have been working with a writing group at my local museum. The title of the group is "Family Secrets" and the goal was simply to get people writing their stories. Especially stories about family history. There are so many things in life that are lost because no one took time to do a little recording. We aren't a group who is about genealogy or chronology or even names of places. We are simply trying to tell our stories. The beauty is that as we tell our stories our histories come out in them and are recorded. We leave a legacy of ourselves and also those who have influenced us. And maybe nobody else gives a crap, but since stories are a universal glue that holds humanity together, I think someone somewhere might actually crap. Or give one. Or whatever. 

At first, I wasn't sure I was fitting in as a writer with the group. Everyone else has stories of horse drawn wagons, homesteading, and one room schoolhouses. My stories have a similar feel, as I grew up largely in a rural environment, but my stories also feature technological advances such as electricity and tend to feel more like a journal entry. (Obviously, most of my writing experience takes place merely between the coil bound covers of my journals, so besides university papers, I don't have much experience as someone who actually "writes".) It took me a little bit to realize that my stories were the same as my counterparts - even if my style was a bit different. I was writing about being a kid, growing up, funny anecdotes, relationships with parents, and the other members of the group were too. It is just that they are all 30-50 years older than me. 

Our leader, a local author named Tyler Trafford, has been extremely helpful and encouraging getting our group moving forward, getting stories down, sharing our voices. He even suggested we create an anthology of our stories to publish and will be walking us through the process. He has a great deal of knowledge and experience to share with all of us amateurs. In fact, he has really challenged me as a writer, which no one has done since my 20th Century Irish Drama class in university. That professor was an extremely tough marker, but I didn't take her grading as an invitation to improve my craft. It was merely a formula I needed to passably achieve in order to make it through her class. I learned in university that my writing ability was not necessarily magnificent, and while I have always harboured hidden hopes of one day being published for my own merits, I let my laziness and my arrogance lull me into believing that my words were somehow....a big deal. That if I bothered to write it down, it was good enough. That is the danger of only writing in a journal . The only audience is me. And I know exactly what I am trying to say. I like my writing style. I don't notice my grammatical errors. I think I am witty and entertaining and profound. That is also the beauty of just being a journal-er. No one insists I do better. No one challenges me about my craft. No one can burst my bubble.

Tyler burst my bubble. It has taken me a couple of days to grapple with it.

He is SO encouraging. He calls and leaves messages about how he and everyone enjoys my stories and that my words are so great. It has been nice having people pump my tires about writing like I did in junior high. But - He told me I do well at getting words out and once I spew it all out on paper, I get lazy. He told me my pieces were good, but if I would just invest more time and effort into them, they would be great. The elements are there. However, I need to rework them.

I want to protest. To say, "but I am so busy with a little kid in the house." I want to say, "I've never had to put so much extra effort in before." I want to say, "Aren't my words, the way I say them, enough? Aren't they already magic?"

You know what, though? He is right. It happens all the time with me. I get excited about doing something, but then I don't pursue it to my full potential. And it is OK to do that. I can't throw my whole self behind every project I take up - it isn't realistic to think that I can be fully invested in every endeavour I find interesting. Nobody can.

This is where my problem is: I have this black balloon I have been packing with me for years. It is the idea that I am kind of good at a bunch of things - but excellent at none. That there is nothing about me that makes me special. At least not in tangible gifts. My husband and I used to have this joke between us: this is Mark, (followed by a lengthy list of his accomplishments and talents), and this is his wife, Val, she's a good friend. 

The truth? I have never really put myself out there in a way that has challenged my abilities and talents. I had enough to get by - and get by pretty well - so I left it at that. Honestly, it is easier to coast through than to make myself vulnerable by really striving. That way if I fail I know I haven't really tried anyway. Super cliche and super lame, but also, ashamedly, super true. I have the potential to learn how to be excellent at writing. I have been keeping a journal fairly consistently since the 8th grade. I think that is a pretty good indicator about my passion for writing. Journal-ling is the only thing that I started in my childhood and have continued through my life. I have always wanted to write down the things I think, feel and experience. The craft of it is something that I can learn to improve on. I can learn to be an artist with my words. And you know what? Even though I am interested in trying and doing lots of things from knitting to tanning leather to pottery, I will be happy to do all of those things decently - but I want to be excellent at writing. Maybe one day I will be published for my own merits.



I guess that means I should spend some time editing this post before I put it up.

Peace.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Not Good, Not Better, But Best


My dear, beautiful, inspiring, amazing, godly friend (who is came to visit this past weekend!) forwarded this message on to me - and of course, it came right on time! So I thought I would send it out there to everyone who is connected to me - who knows, you might get it right on time too!
NOT GOOD, NOT BETTER, BUT BEST

"Well done! You are an industrious and reliable servant. Since you were dependable in a small matter I will put you in charge of larger affairs. Come, share your master's joy!" -Matthew 25:21

The Lord doesn't call us to do good.  "No one is good but God alone" (Mk 10:18). He doesn't call us to do better - better than others or even better than before. The Lord doesn't like to compare. He simply wants us to do our best. Our best may not be better. It may not even be that good. Nonetheless, the Lord is pleased with our best. It is a sacrifice acceptable to Him.

   We all can do our best any time we want to. Our best doesn't require ability, skill, training, or even maturity. A little boy can do his best. A feeble elderly man can do his best. We can always do our best. It's just a matter of trying our best. The Lord is not concerned with how many talents we start with (Mt 25:15).

    He just wants us to do our best with what we've got. Ten talents are pleasing to Him if they're our best. A thousand talents are displeasing if they're not our best.
-------- So "whatever you do, work at it with your whole being. Do it for the Lord rather than for men" (Col 3:23). To do our best, we must give our all. This is the first commandment: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind" (Lk 10:27).


Prayer: Father, may I not have good days but best days for Your glory.

Promise: "We belong neither to darkness nor to night; therefore let us not be asleep like the rest, but awake and sober!" -1 Thes 5:5-6

This is not my creation and I did not compose it but I am forwarding it because it is the way I think and it blessed me greatly -- I SEND THIS WITH MY LOVE AND PRAYERS -- FR. CLAIR

Monday, July 6, 2015

So, Dreads.....

It's been about three weeks since I started this dreaded journey. Sorry.  I couldn't resist. 
:)

Anyway,  I am still at the beginning as not all my little braids have been transformed into dreadlocks yet. I have about 15 braids left to go. Ugh. Let me tell you, this whole thing is not for the faint of heart or scalp.  Or the vain. On Instagram when you follow people with dreadlocks, even baby dreads, they have one picture up of their normal hair and then the next day or two and there is a photo of them with perfectly shaped knotted and placed dreads. It is deceptive, friends.  I have been doing this on my own and there is no such thing as going to bed one day and and waking up with beautiful dreads. I have had these little braids in for 20-odd days and they get fuzzier and frizzier every day. I have to pull the dreads and braids up in a bun and wrap a scarf around my chaos just to go out. I'll post some photos.  Seriously.  It is out of control up there.



Once you have a head of new dreadlocks, it is recommended that you let them chill for about a week before you wash them, but since I've been at this three weeks already, I don't have the luxury of letting the newbies have a week to work their magic before they are assaulted by shampoo and water.  *YES! Dreadlocks are meant to be washed. For some reason people think that dreads are dirty and greasy, but the opposite should be true. Hair dreads better if it is clean and free of oils, so a set of squeaky clean locs are definitely more desirable to a head of smelly, greasy tangles.* The cleaning is good, but shampoo is slippery and can leave moisturizing residue that can cause those hard earned knots to untangle. So even if my two or three new locs are looking tight, after a shower and a couple of days they are loosening up and getting fuzzy and misshapen. And then they need maintenance.
I am at the point where I have over half my head done. Although many of my dreads need some TLC and attention, I am feeling like I should just hurry and get those last ones done so I can focus on the maintenance and trying to curb some of the frizz in a productive way - by snagging it up into a dreadlock! Of course I started with the bottom and am working my way to the top so all my ridiculous fuzz is sitting mostly on the top of my head. I would do it that way.

The creation of a dread

I could use wax to help shape the locs and minimize the frizz.  I don't want to. It has worked great for many others, but I just have an aversion to putting it in my hair.  When I was researching online, I found more people opposed to wax and so I have settled myself into that camp. Not from experience or knowledge or anything other than it just seems like the best way for me to go with this. Kinda like a gut thing. I think that wax would make the dreads dirtier - stuff sticks to wax - and I would worry more about things like my dreads drying properly after a wash and potentially developing knot rot. Ewww. It's a thing. I am just going to work those puppies over with my crochet hook as much as possible over the summer and hope they lock up. I got some bar shampoo from LUSH which I will use and I am going to try an apple cider vinegar rinse after as recommended by an etsy shop owner who makes her own shampoo for dreadlocks. One thing I have learned about dreadlocks in the past week is that they may need to be moisturized. It seems that since the oils from your scalp no longer get worked down through your tresses, they can become dry and brittle and that isn't a good scene for dreadlocks either.  So I will have to figure that out, but all in due time.

Let me also just ask, can't a girl just be a 30 something, Catholic, stay at home mom who doesn't smoke weed or read tarot cards and want to have dreadlocks? I don't own any barefoot sandals (anymore - though I did as a kid!) or have any Buddha or Vishnu statues, or burn incense - although I really love the smell of incense when it's used at mass - or ohm. I feel like I am a bit of an anomaly. At an end of the year event at the Catholic school my husband teaches at, our member of the board of education, who I have been getting to know through some other venues, (it is a small town) questioned me about my sprouting dreadlocks. "I heard all about it in a hemp shop in the Caribbean!" she told me. She wanted to know why I wanted them and what my dad had to say about it! I just want them. I think they look cool. "I'm not Rasta, or anything," I assured her with a laugh thinking about how I might look as a Eucharistic minister at the end of the month with my knotted locs sticking out. Also, I'm a 30 year old woman who has been making questionable choices about my hair styles for YEARS now. Who the heck cares what my DAD has to say about it? What the what?

http://seekingfaith.stedward.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/shutterstock_246673681.jpg

I am not Rasta, in fact I realized I don't know much about what Rastafari really is so I of course Googled it and what I know I read here: http://listverse.com/2014/01/06/10-things-to-know-about-rastafari-beliefs/  The university degrees in me are screaming in my ears about reliable sources, of which I can't be sure this is one. 

fourthy.deviantart.com

Is it so strange to want dreads but none of the stereotypical culture that comes with it? Now I'm not saying that I am not a little more hippie, a little more free spirit, a little more on the fringe than some. Maybe I am. Or at least I kinda was before moving to this little town that is a strange combination of Red Neck-Granola Crunchers. But I would just like to feel like I'm not the only dreadhead who loves Jesus, is into gardening, eats red meat with delight and reads papal encyclicals. Anyone with me?

Peace.

UPDATE: 
I wrote this post almost 3 weeks ago! I STILL don't have all my dreads in. Seven(ish) to go. 

What do you mean having a one year old and a renovation project and a husband who is now off on summer vacation and a bunch of hiking trips equals very little advancement on my dread-venture AND no time to properly edit, add photos and post to my blog? I don't get it.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Why Is Hair Such A Big Deal?

I am not a long haired girl. It just isn’t me. I cut my hair off for the first time in grade 8 - which made me about 13 years old - and I grew it back initially because the change was just such a huge shock I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. But within about a year, I cut my hair again. And then again. And again. I cut it about three times in a week shorter and shorter until we got to a place where I loved the new look. I went from shoulder-ish length down to what I lovingly refer to as “hockey hair”, to a strange bowl-esque/mushroom-y kind of cut, to a super short pixie cut. I LOVED it. My mom HATED it. My dad said it was just hair, and so I got to keep it short, and short it stayed all through high school, most of university and into my adult life. I have had long hair twice since I finally got it down to my beloved pixie way back then: I grew it out for two years conveniently around the time I got married so my wedding photos have a pretty sweet up-do. I like to call it a faux hawk/bump with class. Which was quickly followed with a real mohawk; red and black with lightening shaved in the side of my head. The second time I have had long hair is now.

The weeding do, 2006
The hawk that followed.

I feel like I don’t even look like myself if my hair is down and flowy and, ugh. It is just weird. Even my husband doesn’t think it is me.
June 1, 2015 This is my hair as it is right now. Just showered, not combed, not straightened.
I am about to section it into braids to await dreadlocks.

I have run the gamut of colours and short edgy dos. Mohawks, fauxhawks, long bangs, rat tails, spikes, and shaved. I loved them all. About three years ago, I decided to start growing my hair. I had a goal. Something I hadn’t done before. Something that was going to take some commitment. Something that made everyone cringe. Dreadlocks.

Here are a few examples of the hair I have had over the past 10 years:













I am not a planner by nature. I don’t have 5 or 10 year goals. We have a supper menu on a chalk board in the hallway because my husband got tired of me never knowing what the crap I was going to make for supper that day. So the biggest plans in my life are what’s for supper Monday to Friday, and the rest just comes at me. Or I come at it. I guess it depends on the day.
BUT. I planned for this hair. I have a goal. Dreads.

Also, I should add that I am a strange combination of an opportunist - looking for someone else to do the hard work for me - and a “do it the hard way” kind of girl. I don’t like to spray weeds. I like to pull them. (why? I don’t know. I feel like it is more meaningful. And more effective.) I recently made soap. I know I can buy it. But I MADE some. And I think that’s cool.

Anyway. I put out a plea on Facebook to my friends and family for someone to help me out with putting these dreads in my hair. I really only have a limited amount of time where putting them in makes sense, because soon my hands are going to be full full full of a new baby and a toddler, so I wanted to maximize the summer and this time with only one kid to really work at these dreads. (In case you are unaware - dreadlocks are very labour intensive for the first little while - up to a year - while they mature and lock in. If they aren’t looked after, they get gnarly and scary) I got lots of encouragement - and some cringes - but no one offered up their time or energy to help me out. (To be fair, recently, a friend I know who has helped maintain her brother's dreads has offered to help.)

I went to a local salon for a bang trim. I asked there. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to ask. $100 an hour. For at least 8 hours. Probably more like 10. Honey, ain’t no one got a grand to drop on a hairstyle. Please. So. Here I am. I have a head full of hair that doesn’t feel like it belongs to me, and a goal. And a bit of a time limit. Sigh. I guess I’m going to have to do it myself. At least I am not scared of the hard way. I guess my weeds are just going to have to wait to be pulled while I dread my hair (and blog about it!).

My hair is a big part of the expression of who I am. It has been for a long time. It is loud when I don’t feel like I have the voice to be loud. It attracts attention. It has a mind of its own. So, while I thought about maybe just giving up and cutting the whole mess off, going back to my “safe” hair styles - I decided I just need to go for it. It is going to take me some time to get it done, it took me two days just to section my hair and braid it so it would be somewhat organized for this endeavour. But I think I want to document this too, because I am really excited to see how it all goes. And in a year, to see what they look like. If it doesn’t work out, that’s ok too. I’m not scared of a pair of clippers. J
Braids in. Now for the real work to begin.

My first dreadlock of many.

I know most people don’t give two poops about a post on hair - let alone a plan to document my hair in the coming months, but if you made it to the end of this post, I feel like you should be rewarded and if you comment or if you know me well enough to send me a text or email, I will send you something just for you to say thanks for actually reading, and at least pretending to care about how firmly I have attached my identity to my hair. You are either a great friend, or you are super bored!


Peace!

Monday, April 27, 2015

31 Things

I just celebrated my 31st birthday a couple of days ago, and I was on the road driving to my brother's place to spend a couple of days, and I SO wanted to write a birthday post.  Sometimes I am overcome by the urge to just WRITE but I left my journal at home, and it has been a busy couple of days with family,  so writing had to wait. It's good too, because I thought of a format for this post in the meantime. A list of sorts to share a bit more about me and the things I have learned and experienced over my life. Maybe it is cheesy, maybe it is predictable, maybe no one give two poops about what I write, but I do what I want.
So here are 31 things.
1. Jesus is the real deal. It isn't enough to say I believe in God. Jesus really lived, really loved, and really lives again.  I know because I have seen Him work in my life and the life of people around me. The Holy Spirit moves and I have experienced Him and you can stop reading now if you want because I have just finished saying the most important thing I can say anyway.
2.  When I was a kid, I loved to eat sour cream and onion chips and bananas together. The. Best.
3. I am the middle kid and the only girl in my family. So it kinda worked out. I have the middle kid sarcasm and fight, but I also got my own room quicker.
4. I have learned things are not black and white. I used to hold people to a very high standard (especially young people I mentored) but I did it without grace. I still hold the high standard, but I understand now that I don't reach it either, and we need to cut some slack sometimes. Grace is Devine.
5.  I really am not interested in professional sports. I feel like it is a huge waste of resources. And sports talk radio makes me want to gouge out my eyes.
6. Plants are way cool.
7. I often feel guilty about what I am not doing. I have been given so much and I am so blessed, but I am not using my time, talents and resources to their full capacity and I have guilt about it.
8. I am an android user but am seriously considering going iPhone next time my contract comes up.
9. If you are a woman, I strongly believe you should read Captivating by John and Staci Eldridge. And if your a dude, Wild at Heart by John Eldridge.
10. I love to fish. I haven't really done it since high school, and most of my success was sheer luck, but I'm hoping to take it up again soon and actually learn more about it.
11. You are not in control.
12. It's ok.
13. What is real social justice? I struggle with this idea and the practice of it. I am passionate about it but it is so easy to mess up. (Yet also so easy to do right.)
14. I am an attachment parenter. At least I swing that direction on the pendulum. And I am not sorry about it. My gut tells me it is right for me and my kiddo(s) so that is how I do.
15. I used to be drawn in by the "show." Now it makes me wary.
16. Brain research. Do some.
17. I used to want to be a doctor. Maybe a pediatric surgeon. But in high school I decided I wasn't smart enough and l didn't pursue it.
18. I never thought of myself as creative, since most of my drawing looks like it was done by a skilled 8 year old, but I have found my creativity comes out in more tactile exploits like gardening and knitting and pottery.
19. Baby buns are the cutest thing on the face of the Earth.
20. Once my dad gave me a thumbs up.
21. Honey mustard.
22. The only thing I am anal about is sweeping and mopping the floor.  Not about how often it happens, but that it is done in a certain fashion.
23. I find the vast amount of hair I lose on a daily basis disconcerting.
24. I am unorganized, late and I make last minute plans. It doesn't mean I don't care.
25. I want to travel everywhere. I hope one day we can live abroad for a year as a family.
26. I find there is nothing so magnetic and enlivening as natural light, weather it is from the sun, moon or stars, I want it pouring through my windows or I want to be in it, soaking it up.
27. Once, when I was a teen, my "pseudo family," who have given me so much in my life, needed me to babysit when the mom got viral meningitis. I had also been invited to go round up cows with my neighbour the same weekend and his hot grandson was going to be there, so I talked myself into believing I was just protecting myself from infection and didn't go babysit. I have regretted this selfish decision ever since, but I never apologized to them for it. I am still meaning to.
28. Just do the right thing.
29. Amaretto is my favorite liqueur.
30. When you compromise on your central guiding principles, you cheapen them to the point of appearing worthless.
31. My husband deserves more credit, praise and affirmation than I give him. He really does his best for me and our family and I just want to acknowledge his hard work, care and presence.  Thank-you.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

So Many Good Things...

Monday was a good day. Even a great day! I was so pleased with Monday. I made pancakes for just me and the babe. Which means I had a bag of leftover pancakes in the fridge ready to slam into the toaster at a moment's notice. SCORE! This breakfast win was accompanied by a calm, sunny, and warm day. If you follow my Instagram, you will know what a feat that is for this town. It was so nice that I took my one year old out, set her on the lawn and started doing some raking. Yard work is not something everyone likes to do, but for me - it helps me to really feel connected to the place I am. I love being able to see the progress of a garden, even just a small one, and the sense of peace and life a few green things can bring to a space always leaves me in awe and breathing easier.

After having a baby last spring, my front door garden had gotten away from me at our old house. I was so relieved and excited to get to work in it once my energy was up and I was willing to put baby down for naps!

This is the after photo - once I cleaned out the dead material and weeds and was working on adding a little brick path. Also, the lilacs help make the scene a little more appealing. By the end of the summer, I had quite a front door garden complete with about a half a dozen tomatoes to harvest and two home grown cucumbers!

I am the most amateur of amateur gardeners, but I will hopefully put some pictures up of my yard this year as we begin to make the space our own - and fruitful! I loved our last front door garden so much, but the new yard is so BIG! and full of potential with hills and mulchy places and a big sprawling willow tree - I think it will become a very beautiful and interesting place to be as we work on it in the months and years to come.

The gardening, however, doesn't last long when you have a newly walking one year old who decides she is comfortable enough to go exploring the very hilly yard complete with cement steps. So my pile of twigs and dead grass is presently still sitting on the lawn, killing the new grass trying to grow under it. You must understand; we HAD to go exploring, throw dirt, find (and bite) rocks, pick grass. These things are essential.

After spending too long outside and having a hangry baby, we made a quick lunch and retreated to "the big bed" for our afternoon nap.

Naps, my friends, are essential. They are what gets a one year old and her pregnant mama through the day. Every day. It doesn't even matter how well we slept the night before. Nap. My husband said it best: "sleep when you can." Because you never know what may be in store for you the coming night (this is a literary technique known as foreshadowing.) I like to think of it as "being fully present" or "living in the moment" or even "carpe diem!" Because let's be honest, if you don't just acknowledge how extremely tired pregnant/nursing/running after a toddler tired really is - you will die. Fact. Don't try to do anything fancy like the lunch dishes. Just go have a nap.

And, oh luxury of luxuries, as I was laying in my bed with my little bah-bah snoozing away, I had the time for some devotions. I know that this is a place where I fall so very short in, and that my time in the Word should be the most important thing I do every single day but, my friends, I fail at this. It is not a secret. I admit it. However, I took some time on Monday to settle into the daily readings, read some reflections and listen to the podcast from pray-as-you-go.org. Which I LOVE. Not only are the reflections top drawer, they are all done in Scottish accents. You guys. Jesus and Scottish accents. For real.

Henry Ossawa Tanner "Study for Nicodemus Visiting Jesus" 1899
 ....... Anyway, the gospel reading was from John 3:1-8 where Nicodemus meets with Jesus at night and Jesus speaks of being born of the Spirit. And the Spirit met with me there in my snugly bed with my baby snoozing. It was so great, because I felt more in tune with the Spirit in the past couple of days than I have in a while. I have been trying to feel where the Spirit is blowing me through the day - and even when I am not sure how things are going to turn out, listening and responding sure does make life more interesting.

We rounded out the afternoon with a quick visit to Daddy who was coaching and a shopping trip for groceries and the baby essentials: diapers, a new ball and tank tops for mama. They were racer back tanks, you guys. My favourite. I've basically had the same wardrobe since high school. I'm not sorry.


When we were leaving Wal-Mart (I'm not proud I shop there, but I live in a really small town with few options - I know, I know. It makes me a little sick too and I will try to solve this life issue with prayer and fasting.) there were a couple of hippies with a white dog and a sign telling all who drove by of their broke, travelling, hungry woes. So when I got to the grocery store, I bought a few extra things I thought travelling hippies might find useful (secretly I wish I were a travelling hippy) with the intention of heading back to the parking lot at Wal-ly World with gifts to send them on their way slightly better nourished.



Of course they were AWOL when I went back for them. You know what they say, "There's no rest for travelling hippies." So - I let the Spirit blow me to our "downtown", which is only about 4 blocks from my house, where I found a couple of local guys who hang out down there. I'm not sure if they are technically homeless, I haven't lived here long enough to know everyone's story, but they fit the bill of a couple of guys who could use a little extra nourishment. So I handed over the groceries. Actually, in all fairness, as I was buying things for the hippies, I was thinking to myself about what real social justice is. Am I just blessing the blessed by handing over groceries to a couple who is travelling the country? I mean, I don't doubt they were travelling on a nothing budget, (I have this thing about trusting everyone's word at face value - call it a flaw, I am glad I live this way) I know people who have. And I don't know their story, why they are on the road like they are, but why am I so willing to help people who are living one of my dreams, but so much less willing to drop $30 for groceries for the dudes down my block who REALLY need to see some love in the world? Anyway - Social Justice. Something I need to write a whole post about sometime.

BUT the great day doesn't end there! I ate a bowl of no name Frosted Flakes for supper when I got home, ditched my fam-jam and went to a MOVIE!!!! All by myself. But it was great. Like I said, I am 4 blocks from down town (half the town is) so it took me about 5 minutes to walk to the theater that was showing a Canadian film, Big News from Grand Rock, hosted by our Allied Arts Council.

Big News from Grand Rock (2014) Poster
The director, Daniel Perlmutter, was there all the way from Toronto, to open the film for us and answered questions at the end. I walked home after in my flippy flops enjoying the beautiful spring evening; full of popcorn and fountain Coke. :)  All was truly right with the world.


The blurry evidence of the beautiful weather.
The bustling Monday evening night life in my small town.
This beautiful spring day, filled with things I love and enjoy, came to an end with a basically sleepless night, a sick and disgruntled toddler, and a 5 am chat with Ralph on the big white telephone where I got to relive my large bag of popcorn and my once delicious fountain pop. All good things must come to an end I guess....

....and just wondering, does it take anyone else DAYS to write, edit and post a blog post that is just about one day of activities? Sheesh!

Peace!

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Holy Week.


Let me be real. I failed at Lent. I not only caved on my no sugar/sweeteners commitment, but I was also supposed to be reading Isaiah with a dear friend and sharing notes and thoughts on Facebook with her, but have gone totally AWOL in that department too. I used to use this phase with students on special occasions, but seriously Wynder: Sucks to suck.


Now Lent is not over; here I am finding myself in in the week of preparation for the biggest, most significant event in Christianity - in history! - and even though I utterly failed God in the self-denial department (I have a huge sack of mini eggs on the counter), I have found he is no further away. Sometimes I get blown away (again and again actually) when I get into a space where I feel like I am not living up to my end of the faith bargain, to find the closeness and faithfulness of God does not, in fact, have anything to do with me. Weird. Don't get me wrong, you theological sticklers,  I am not saying I cannot move myself or my heart to a place of hardness and unfaithfulness. I can, and unfortunately do. What I'm saying is that no matter where I position myself, it has no bearing on the character of God - which is grace and mercy (and so much more my tiny brains cannot comprehend).


So even with the residue of Cadbury milk chocolate still on my tongue, with a repentant heart, and in earnest humility, I can still come and sit at the feet of my Lord, with my tears for anointing and my messy hair as a towel. He is so close by. I only need to turn my eyes from myself, and look at His face instead. No words are necessary. There is quite, and that is where He is asking me to dwell.
Why have I gone through a week of tears and exhaustion and frustration instead of sitting silently at the feet of Jesus?

Do I really get so easily distracted by me? When I clearly have lived this lesson over and over and over? Why won't I learn already?

I don't know about you, but I find this whole dying to self thing REALLY FREAKING HARD.

So, while I take some time with Jesus, and try to walk through this week with Him, how about you? How is your Lenten journey wrapping up? Do you have a story to share?  An insight for me? Let's walk this out together!

Peace.