What a Glorious Day

It may be rainy and overcast in my little corner of the world, but I'm just a little bit giddy -- after days of hauling, cleaning and sorting, Stage One of Spring Cleaning Maddness is complete. Yesterday I hauled all of this junk to the curb for our bi-annual large trash pickup today.

Of course, two hours later, I peeked out from one of my windows as some local dumpster divers parked their van and trailer bed by my curb and explored my trash. Evidently they decided that they couldn't live without the defunct lawnmower and the rusted out grill. I guess the old saying always rings true: One man's trash is another man's treasure!

Again, this morning I looked out and it was a thrilling feeling to see it all gone! While there's still several more stages to go, I'm relishing in this newfound freedom of "stuff."

The Contessa, the Chianti and a Corkscrew

I am quite the novice when it comes to wine. While I have baked many a dessert incorporating some sort of liqueur, my cooking exploits have not ventured much into those involving wines. So, when the Contessa suggested Chianti for the red wine portion of the sauce the other evening, I deferred to her many years of experience and set out to find something appropriate.

My undertaking was not all that complicated – I just made my way to the red wines section and appraised my options. Someone had told me that the screw top bottles were actually better than the ones with the cork. So, that eliminates some. To make the final decision, I used an old standby method, “When in doubt, which one has the most appealing packaging.” For someone who is slow to make a quick decision in the face of so many, I was proud of myself for such immediate resolution. I made my purchase and went home.

Later, as my friends and I were in the kitchen, enjoying working together to assemble our meal and getting close to putting the ingredients together for our sauce, I brought out the wine. There was much affirmation on my selection of bottle and we were eager to smell the Chianti, each of us amateurs in our wine experiences. I pulled off the label covering the top of the bottle and was met with a cork.

Hmmm. I own no corkscrew.

Now, even if you’re mildly experienced in the kitchen you know that timing is everything in cooking. Seeing as we were very close to the stage where we would be assembling our sauce for the meatballs, we knew we were in a predicament.

Ideas started flying: What about a screw? What about trying to cut it out in pieces with a knife? What if we pushed it down into the bottle?

Ah, we know! The internet! Surely there would be some creative idea there!

Sure enough – long screw, pliers and superhuman strength. (Good thing I’ve been beefing up on my Smallville/Superman knowledge.)

Utensils in hand, we made our first attempt. Hmm. No go.

My brain working fast, I remembered I was a new owner of power tools! Last Christmas I walked away from a Christmas party with my very own cordless screwdriver complete with drill bits and everything! Very proud of ourselves, I put in a dry wall drill bit and started up that baby. My hands, steady as a surgeon, drilled the bit in about ¾ in.

Now for pliers. Hmmm. Apparently I own power tools but no pliers. What would improvise???

I have wire cutters! Two summers ago I rewired my wall outlets and my light switches! Those would work.

One of us with wire cutters in hand while the other two of us braced the bottle, we pulled.

And pulled.

And…snap.

Apparently wire cutters can also cut drill bits.

After the initial shock, and now through tears of hysterical laughter, we scratched our heads.

Maybe our closest liquor store would have, maybe say, a corkscrew?

Meatballs nearly finished browning, time now really was of the essence. One of my friends pulled on her flip flops and flew out the door.

Several minutes later (yeah, that liquor store is surprisingly close to my house), she entered with a free corkscrew. Evidently, they give cheap store ones away! Who knew?

Of course, now our dilemma was getting our corkscrew in around the chopped off drill bit.

We discussed intubating. (We watch them do it every week on House. We’re pretty sure we could do it with our eyes closed.)

We opted for the more risky solution: Ever so slightly, my friend worked the corkscrew trying not to push the drill bit down into the wine.

I pressed a cold compress against her slightly moistened brow.

The corkscrew was in. Again, we pulled with strength that far exceeded our own limits. And once again, the cork removal eluded us.

Smells wafted from the stove. We had to do something fast. Taking the bottle, I placed it solidly between both my feet and pulled like I’ve never pulled before.

Halfway out!

Once again.

With a pop, it was out, drill bit hanging from the bottom of the cork by a mere thread.

It was a close call but our Chianti made a fine recovery.

And just in time for the meatball sauce.

A New Favorite Thing

I’m kind of a woman of a few passions. My “Favorite Things” nav bar is a reflection of a few things in life that I really can’t live without. I hope that every once in awhile you check them out! I love sharing my favorite things with others in the hopes that they too will find them irresistible.

As of last night, I discovered that I had a new addition to this select group – spending time in the kitchen with an intimate group of friends, laughing, talking, trying a new recipe replete in its simplicity and full of flavor. Ina Garten, also known as the Barefoot Contessa, has grown through a number of her dishes to epitomize this passion best for me. My friend, Jill and I, over the last couple of years have enjoyed trying a few dishes that have always surprised me by the simplicity of the ingredients and yet they are so full of flavor and beauty. Even more than the recipes themselves, Garten’s dishes lend themselves to an atmosphere that you can enjoy community within the kitchen as well as the table because she eliminates the chaos that so many other recipes create in going for the gourmet.

So, last night, in celebration of one friend’s birthday, two friends joined me in the kitchen to try our hand at Garten’s Real Spaghetti and Meatballs. I know that it may not seem an altogether exotic choice, but of all the dishes I’ve explored, I had never made meatballs before. What intrigued me from the recipe was that the meatballs themselves consisted of ground beef, ground pork and ground veal. And among the spices in the meatballs – nutmeg. And the sauce…simple with crushed tomatoes, a few spices, and about a half a cup of Chianti. Neither a connoisseur nor a sommelier of any sort of wine, I was so impressed by the Chianti’s flavor, I think I might just have to become one!

In any case, can I just say these were just the most amazing meatballs I’ve ever tasted? More than that, the fellowship was incredible. It was one of those evenings where dinner lasts several hours and you enjoy lingering over the meal and the conversation. So, if you enjoy incredible food that lends itself to intimate fellowship, I highly recommend the Barefoot Contessa for your next dinner party.

Hurting People Don't Need Band-Aids

My heart is heavy this morning. All morning it has been weighed down with someone who is struggling to stay afloat as the ugly throes of Depression threaten to strangle life out of her. My heart hurts for her because I remember a season in my life when Depression hung around my heart.

It was one of the most horrible seasons in my journey. I remember how painful everything was…getting up out of bed, sleeping, getting ready, engaging with people. There were some days I just knew that I couldn’t go on. Darkness surrounded me daily and I felt as if I was just inches away from being swallowed completely into a Black Hole.

In listening to this person, I remember as well how many people tried to “fix me.” Well meaning people to be sure, but people who knew my life at a glance and who were only concerned that my countenance would very quickly tidy itself up. After all, Christians are supposed to “choose joy” as one Fixer Upper told me. Believe me, I wanted to be fixed. I made several attempts at bandaging wounds in my heart…but only seemed to end up with a wound that never seemed to heal and often smelled suspiciously of infection.

This morning as I’ve been praying for this person as I recall my own journey, I know that there was no quick fix. What I remember from that time was practically living in my oversized chair and ottoman and pouring out my heart to Jesus. King David’s honesty with God was a model for me. Verses such as Psalm 38:9, “All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you” and Psalm 62:8, “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge” not only encouraged me to stay in the fray but taught me that God alone could handle my honesty – the gross, yucky, ugly stuff in my heart that most people couldn’t hear, understand, or handle.

Looking back over that season, I couldn’t tell you that there was any one thing that snapped me out of depression. It was a slow healing. But, the one thing that I do know is that I learned to run to Him with the garbage of my soul and in time my heart began to finally hear His words of comfort. Maybe in learning to share with Him honestly, knowing that He could take it and that He heard me eventually softened my heart to listen to Him and not the Enemy. And, I know that I learned that Band-Aids, while they can protect from further infection, are not healing agents. Only Jesus can truly heal our deepest wounds.

And that’s what I’m praying for my hurting friend today.

More On "Stuff"

Thanks to Sandie I was referred to flylady.net for some additional insight for my Spring Cleaning Maddness. I was kind of excited to discover that my decluttering attack seems right on target. If you're overwhelmed by the stuff of life you might find this sight encouraging and helpful.

Now I know why Oscar the Grouch was one...

Did you ever wonder why Oscar the Grouch was always soooo grouchy? Today, I finally know why. His love of trash ate away at his soul! HA! After spending the majority of the day cleaning, sorting, and tossing again, I find myself asking:

How is it possible that any one human being could have accumulated so much stuff???

It’s not only shocking…it’s obscene really. Granted, I’ve lived by myself for 7 years and in those 7 years I’ve only moved twice. So, nothing forces me to face the lingering stuff that seems to hide itself in places I never knew I had. But still.

While it’s a great feeling to get rid of stuff, I found myself kind of angry with myself. After stuffing trash bag number 5 with another t-shirt hardly ever worn, I couldn’t help but wonder what void I’ve tried to fill in my life with stuff…stuff that just sits out of sight and never really ever fulfills any function in my world. I guess at some point I really believed it would. Stuff I thought I needed and instead it just collects dust or uses up precious space. But, now it just all feels like a boulder attached to my soul.

So, I’m tossing it out into the internet void – I don’t want to live life out of the trash can. I want a simpler life. Free of excessive stuff.

Can you use that in a sentence, please?

Rebarbative.

The failure to upload posts in a timely and excellent fashion caused Blythe to concede that the rebarbtive Blogger people had conspired against her.

Rebarbative.

It’s the word of the day, folks.

How appropriate.

Working Girl?

Today I began in earnest working on my resume to begin the job hunt that will inevitably kickoff the next season of my life. Because I’ve been out of the “work world,” I begged the expertise of a friend of mine who is really good at this sort of thing. I mean, she actually likes this stuff!! So, we met at Starbucks this afternoon – me with Trusty Laptop and she with a DOORSTOP of materials intended to help me write, analyze and think through the kind of job I want to pursue.

We hammered at it for a couple of hours until we both hit a wall. Now, I’m home and curiously peeking at different resources trying to figure out how much of me I want to give to this pursuit. I mean, do I just want a paycheck or am I looking for career?

At this point, I can’t answer that question honestly. A part of me just wants the paycheck (a real one would be nice after 9 years of fundraising!). And yet, while I’ve never considered myself even remotely ambitious, there’s this part of me that wants to find that one job that I’m created for, you know? I really thrive on doing things that have purpose and meaning. But pursuing a career means…work. It means wading through this stack of materials analyzing EVERYTHING about what I like, don’t like, skills, etc.

In any case, I’m looking for a job. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. I’m a little scared but mostly just overwhelmed as I stare at this stack of materials.

Maybe if I stare long enough my heat vision will incinerate it.

Just for Fun

Respectful Dreamer

Saw this on Rick's blog and thought it looked interesting. I kind of enjoy personality type quizzes. The results rang pretty true for me. If you mouse over the strip, it shows you what the colors mean and your results. Here's what Respectful Dreamer means.

Spring Cleaning

Life has been busy as we finish up the semester. Unfortunately blogging has taken a back seat to being distracted by the details of life. It seems that all the mental and emotional distractions of late have pushed my Apathy button. Do you have one of those? One of those buttons that seems to get pressed when you feel inundated with all that is on your plate?

Today, however, it changed. Something in me felt the need to actually accomplish something. Despite the fact that I felt overwhelmed with where to begin with my surge of energy to do a little spring cleaning, I just jumped in. While I consider myself a neat/clean person, I am terrible at organizing, sorting, making decisions. I inherited a nasty gene from my father -- Packrat Syndrome.

In most people, PRS exhibits itself by definition as one who is a collector of miscellaneous useless objects. I am not a collector. Just a procrastinator. Bills, letters, and other things to be filed inevitably end up in a pile somewhere in the back office. The thought is always, “I’ll deal with it later when I have time.” According to the near constant state of that room, it would appear that time never finds me. As well, objects, once useful or esteemed, often end up in this room waiting for some sort of decision from me. Toss it? Give it? Sell it? Mostly objects end up here because I feel guilty about throwing something useful away (again, my father). Even though now I no longer have any use for it, I just can’t seem to talk myself into committing to its official demise. In fact, I’ve found over the last 4 years that my back room office is a very convenient graveyard for just about anything I’m willing to avoid.

So, for the entirety of my day, I’ve been cleaning, sorting, and throwing away. First, the garage. Then, the crypt in the back of the house. There’s still a ways to go but I’m just glad I jumped in. Instead of thinking about it all day and popping in the latest Smallville episode. Now, I can watch Smallville and feel like I have something to show for my Saturday.

I'm Pretty Cute...Or So Everyone Around Me Keeps Saying

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Well, after sitting yesterday through an hour delay on the first leg of my flight only to be transferred from one airline to another airline after it was determined that that delay would force me to miss my connection, only to wait out another hour long layover in the rerouted connecting city, I finally arrived in Fort Lauderdale where my niece welcomed me at the airport!

Today Erin Sophia and Aunt Blythe were able to shoo the others out of the house while we had a little coffee talk (She watched in fascination. I drank. But, I spoke of the importance of the coffee. I figure this instruction must begin early.) Other than that, we have mostly just spent our time sleeping, eating, burping and pooping (uh, that would be her, not me).

It has been a most fantastic way to spend a day.

Walking Lamely

Upon the recommendation of my friend M.K. Lindsey, I recently have picked up the book Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith by Rob Bell. I have been struck largely by the way Bell presents his questions and musings on his journey through the Christian life. Mostly, I’ve been blessed by his writing style – I feel as if I’m sitting with him and a few others over coffee in some trendy coffee establishment engaging around the ideas he offers for discussion.

This morning stumbled across this thought he posed:

Binding and loosing [see Matt. 16:19; 18:18-20] can only be done if communities are willing to wrestle. The ultimate display of our respect for the sacred words of God is that we are willing to wade in and struggle with the text – the good parts, the hard-to-understand parts, the parts we wish weren’t there….The rabbis have a metaphor for this wrestling with the text: The story of Jacob wrestling with the angel in Genesis 32. He struggles, and it is exhausting and tiring, and in the end his hip is injured. It hurts. And he walks away limping.

Because when you wrestle with the text, you walk away limping.

And some people have no limp, because they haven’t wrestled. But the ones limping have had an experience with the living God. (68-69)

It was a picture that gave me courage. Mostly because I think I can often find myself in a Christian culture that unknowingly promotes that the opposite is true: It’s our job as believers to have God all figured out. I am not factoring myself out of the mix – rather, it’s seeing this very thinking in my own journey that has left me pondering why I feel the need to explain those things about God that really are often unexplainable.

Why is this my job? Why am I at times uncomfortable with what I don’t know about Him? Why do I feel that I have to have Him all figured out? Am I trying to gain a knowledge of Him for the praise of men or the praise of Him (Gal.1:10)? Why can’t there sometimes be unanswered questions…and yet, still the firm belief that He is in control and that He’s good (Heb. 11:6)?

Living with a spiritual handicap isn’t at times acceptable for many in the ministry scene. But over the years I’m realizing how vital it is to live openly with one and I appreciate Bell’s picture here. Letting others see the limp in our walk is not weakness but strength. It reminds me of some conclusions that Paul had come to as well:

Therefore, so that I would not exalt myself, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to torment me so I would not exalt myself. Concerning this, I pleaded with the Lord three times to take it away from me. But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may reside in me. So because of Christ, I am pleased in weaknesses, in insults, in catastrophes, in persecutions, and in pressures. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:7b-10)

So, today may I boast in the journey – boasting in what I know to be true about Him and yet walking lamely as one who is wrestling with what she doesn’t understand and rejoicing openly in the great mystery of the One who wants to live and be exalted in my life through faith…

New Pastime

Well, after walking out of Gymboree this afternoon, I decided that I might need a third job to support what is sure to become my new habit – shopping for cute clothes for my niece! And, who better to keep my new favorite little gal hip in infant style, than Stacy and Clinton’s best pupil! Moi.

Here are several of my purchases. (I almost dressed up my old baby dolls to do a little fashion show, but they were a little shy. They’ve not been out in play land since the 80s.)

Inspired to Dance a Different Dance

Last night I went with a couple of friends to see Take the Lead. While they were both eager to see it, I had really not heard much about it. Frankly, I went just to get out and do something and specifically to spend some time with them.

I didn’t realize until today that it’s not getting the best reviews which actually kind of surprised me. I think a word used in one review was “uninspiring.” Funny to me because the word “inspiring” was the exact word I used to describe it as my friends and I left the movie theater! True, it’s not necessarily a movie worthy of an Oscar nod but how many really are by critic standards?

Maybe it’s just that Take the Lead spoke to me on a heart level. A ballroom teacher (Antonio Banderas) decides to get involved in the inner city community around him after stumbling upon one of these kids vandalizing his own principal’s car. Banderas’ character doesn’t see a “discipline problem”; rather, he sees the hurt, anger, loneliness, and woundedness of these kids. I love how he really sees into the hearts of these students! Using ballroom dancing – a style of dancing they are initially repelled by – he teaches them some things about life as well as themselves. It was exciting for me to see these kids really begin to see their hearts and learn how to live beyond themselves. I walked out of the theater inspired to not only see my world through a different lens but to challenge myself to dance a different dance every now and then.

New Reality TV Show

Just thinking about Reality TV makes me throw up a little in the back of my throat. Mostly it irritates me because I think most of these shows expose the extremes we've now gone to amuse ourselves. More than that, as a writer and one who enjoys the creative experience as well as others who invite me to join theirs, I feel like Reality TV reveals a sort of laziness to create, imagine and tell a new story.

However, this new show came across my inbox today. It seems that Steven Speilberg is getting into the mix creating a show that will feature budding young story creators. Now, this might be actually one that I could get behind...especially if I don't happen to eat some bad sushi just before.

Meet My Niece

Mom and baby are doing fine!

Getting a little Grandma time.

It seems that this new aunt can go to bed now and dream some new dreams...

Speaking of Babies and Dreams...

I’m an aunt!!! Yes, as of 2pm ET, my little niece, Erin Sophia, has joined up with this crazy family! She weighed in at 5 lbs. 11 oz. and 18-inches long. She has a shock of red hair, I’m told, but we all basically had bets on that!! Mom and baby are doing fine. My sister had a c-section and now they have put her on a magnesium drip for 24 hours to bring her blood pressure down. It sounds like all are doing well. As soon as I get a picture you can bet I’ll be posting one! Thanks to all have prayed for us!

Shared Dream

I feel like I’m living off of an entire week of dream energy. In a number of conversations this week I’ve found myself excitedly sharing this little silly dream. It’s at the point that I’ve avoided posting anything on my blog because it feels a little out of control. I mean, I keep telling everyone and I’m going to have to step out and actually pursue this!!!

So, here’s a little piece of the dream for all you kind people who peek in on my blog and have been mildly curious: Anywhere you go for coffee in my little corner of the world on just about any given day, you can find college students literally covering any of these small coffee spaces from wall to wall. On a number of occasions when I’ve wanted to sit in one of my favorite places, their invasion has put me onto an hour long quest moving from coffee shop to coffee shop. In these times, I bemoan the fact that my little town couldn’t hurt from about a dozen more such fine establishments!

It’s out of this seeming frustration that I began to think “coffee house monstrosity” rather than add one more small, quaint coffee house to the community. So, a large part of my coffee house dream has a much larger scale. I know that “small” is the primary appeal to the coffee house popularity which is why I’ve been a little hesitant about pursuing it. But after tossing it out to some of my favorite college students, many think it would be an easy sell…especially since it’s a coffee house with college students as its target: there’s free wifi; a place to print out and make copies; a place to display and sell art; a discount for any who have a current student id, etc. While there’s more to the scope of it (i.e. some ideas about how it could be a ministry), for now that’s all I’m willing to share. Just call me a little overprotective my dream baby…

I have to admit, the other day, I did poke around one particular building I’ve had my eye on for some time now that’s for sale/lease. I even took some pictures, relishing a little longer in the possibilities. Who knows what will happen with all this dreaming, you know? It’s been such a regular part of my thoughts these past few days, I even find myself asking the Lord to cross my path with interested parties and resources if He wants to do this. I’m excited to see what He will do…even if it’s just shaping my heart to be willing to dream openly with Him once again – a road I’ve not let myself travel down for some time…

What's Your Dream?

Today I shared a dream. Not just any dream. And not just with any one(s).

Over the last year I’ve had a specific business dream that has mentally been gaining momentum as it tries to fixate on possible reality. It’s a dream that seems impossible for me alone to accomplish. I’m not a business woman. The very thought of me handling on the spot decisions (in the face of an array of many endless ones) is quite laughable. Not a good decision maker. People who’ve told me in the past that I have “administrative” gifts REALLY make me laugh. So not me.

And yet, every so often this business dream resurfaces and I give it some new dream-like touches and toy around with its future in actuality. Of course, what is reality for me very quickly takes over and I put it back in the box o’ dreams and go on with life as I know it.

Today, however, I found myself sharing my dream amongst a group of people in which one member has hurt me. As I listened to the ebb and flow of discussion around a certain dilemma up for discussion, I knew this little dream of mine could very possibly give this quandary a fresh and quite out of the box solution. So, tentatively, I offered a small piece of my dream. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to risk putting it so out into the open, vulnerable to criticism and ridicule. And I certainly wasn’t sure if I wanted to share a very significant piece of a heart dream amongst such persons whose hurt still a little fresh. But something in me felt that I should offer it…like I was offering myself and my heart once again. As if I needed to offer “me” as a means to continue a healing process. And, it was indeed quite liberating to share me.

And then later on tonight, I found myself sharing this same dream with my dad. Just before we were getting ready to say our goodbyes, my dad said, “Thanks for sharing with me your dream.” That touched me. I don’t think I’ve ever really felt so validated in dreaming aloud before. Thanks Dad, for being a dreamer and teaching me how to dream. Thanks for contributing to and supporting my dreams…those realized and those not so much. I love you. May the Lord enable your deepest dream a shot in this life…