weekend instructions

Love life. Enjoy flowers. Repeat.

mushroom thoughts

Mushrooms are so beautiful. They are like days: each is unique and exciting in its own way. If today is not fantastic, you only need hold on till tomorrow. Who knows what that could bring? Perhaps jodhpurs will come back in style. Perhaps The Monkeys, as a musical group,  will make a comeback. Perhaps chocolate will become the new broccoli. Perhaps the full figured (aka slightly chunky) body type will gain popularity again, as in the days of Renoir. One can only hope. Point being: tomorrow is always full of delightful promise. If nothing else, there is always that morning cup of coffee to look forward to. Lord knows, I milk that happiness to the fullest every single night as I lay my head on the pillow. 

Today was craft day with my buddy Morgan. It was awesome. We made tambourines out of plastic plates, yarn and popcorn kernels. I asked her what prompted her question the other day as to which was more important: a friend or a book. Her answer was not philosophical, as I expected it to be. 

She said that she had invited her friend to go to the pool with her and her mom that day, but at the last minute the friend did not have the six dollars needed to get in. Morgan had exactly six dollars, which she intended to spend at the school book fair the following Monday, and she had to quickly decide whether to give the money to her friend for the pool, or save it to buy a book and have no friend at the pool. She was truly stumped, so she'd phoned a friend (me). 

I am happy to report that after she gave her friend the money (based on my answer: yikes), it turned out that the friend's dad was able to pay Morgan back in time for the book fair. A win/win occurred. Morgan was kind to her friend and she got to buy her book at the book fair. Don't you wish happy endings happened that easily every time? Sometimes, happy endings seem to be on God's installment plan and we get to practice our patience, as my sister-in-law Elaine likes to say. She cracks me up. To her, crappy situations are "opportunities to practice our patience." Oh, joy.

Once, she and her husband were buying a house, and they had to get some work done on it before they could move in. This was in California, where building permits and red tape turned a two-week job into a six month ordeal. "I can't believe it's not done yet," I said, five months into it. Her husband just rolled his eyes in a manner intimating that murder was not yet out of the question if it could speed things along (okay, I may have been over-interpreting that scowl a wee bit), to which my sister-in-law, stroking his hand while fixing him a glance under raised eyebrows, cheerily piped, "Yes, this has been a wonderful opportunity to practice our patience!" Which just goes to show, it's not what happens to you in life that matters so much as how you look at it.

May tomorrow bring you zero opportunities to practice your patience and a plethora of happy endings!

the eyes of the Lord

The eyes of the Lord are upon me. For some reason, I can't help thinking that when I see this picture from yesterday when I was cooking up a mess of vegetables to bring to a holiday boat party. Okay, so maybe that  phrase springs to mind because I've been editing a Biblical commentary lately, thus everything seems to relate to the Bible in some way, but I think there may be more to it. The eyes of the Lord really are upon me. God has my back, and He has a plan. Sometimes my view of that plan has been very hazy as I've tried to make my way from day to day, but I am learning to follow my Godinstincts. God gives us instincts for a reason, and I am more assured than ever that we only need follow them, no matter what, in order to get to the place we are meant to be.

Here's my example, and I am going out on a limb here (yeah... I'm that bold), as the end of this story has not been written yet. But last week, I got this essay about dads laid on my heart so strongly that I had to write it down; I couldn't not write it, though I cried the whole time. It was cathartic,as they say. So, anyhow, I wanted to submit it to the Dallas Morning News to be run on Father's Day weekend. On the day that I was finalizing this piece, my editing project was all about the prodigal son story, which helped me to understand that story like never before. It related to the dad essay I was writing, which I thought quite interesting timing.

I sat on the dad essay all last week, getting feedback on it from a couple of pals so I could get it up to its best form. Over the weekend, I had a strong inkling to submit it by today, though Father's Day weekend is still a ways off, but I was trying to talk myself out of this because I was nervous to submit it for that week when my next deadline is not til July first and I've never tried to submit something for a date other than my assigned date. Alright, alright, so maybe I am a bit of a neurotic rule follower. Is that a problem? Anyhow I was worried about rudely usurping the people whose due date was for Father's Day week? Oy. Yet, still I felt compelled to submit it today. 

Low and behold, this morning I open an email from our editor, which I'd gotten last week and had not gotten a chance to read yet, and in it he says that he will be on vacation Father's Day week, so nobody has that week assigned as a deadline, but he wants any of us to submit anything we have for that week, as he is open to all ideas. WHAT? Can somebody say woo-woo? I had to reread the email because this has never happened before in the almost year I've been doing this columnist thing. We've always had certain people assigned to certain weeks. Amazing coincidence, or something more? You be the judge.

I emailed him that I had written a piece on dads for that weekend, and would submit by the end of the day, and he responded, "Perfect. Thanks." How cool. I got it in just before five. We'll see if he accepts it. Fingers crossed. 

PS On my last post: people, of course. That's what I told Morgan.

Interesting.

Here's something interesting: my neighborhood craft buddy, Morgan, just called a little while ago to ask me a question. That fact that she called is not the interesting part. She calls me all the time. The question is the interesting part. She said, "I need to ask you a question. Which is more important, a book or a friend?" 

What would you say? I will reveal my answer tomorrow, but if you are a regular reader, you probably know it already.  Though, I must admit that this question was a remarkably tough call. What book and which friend? I just love interesting questions.

Here's something else interesting. When I talked to my oldest sister who is recovering from a stroke the other day, she told me that she was heading out to the art supply store to buy some acrylic paints as, having survived her stroke and narrowly missed severe brain damage or worse, she now desired nothing more fervently than to paint pictures with acrylic paints. 

Oh, my Lordie, thinks I. When I was lying in a hospital bed after my serious car accident a couple years ago, all I could think about was getting home and crawling upstairs (which would take seven weeks to be able to accomplish, but who's counting?) to my craft room in order to paint away with watercolors. Watercolors consumed my imagination like nothing else in that dark time. Why did both of us sisters, having never particularly been painters before,  crave the art of painting above all else after potentially fatal events? Perhaps someone could study this. Until then, let it remain one of life's delicious mysteries. 

Takeaway (how easy can this be? I am revealing my theme here): enjoy each day, for today is all we can be assured of. Do what you love, whether it be painting, reading or chilling with your friends.

after the rain

Last night, it stormed, which was the good news and the bad news. Jamie the wonder dog is afraid of storms. Not only thunder storms. On the Jamie scale of terror, even strong winds qualify as "a storm". So, even though I had to sleep all night with my hand hanging off of the bed to rest on her shaking frame, and even though she popped up every hour or so to pant heavily into my nostrils (reminding me of how negligent I've been about brushing her teeth lately), I am thankful for the rain we got last night.

After a stormy night, I love nothing better than getting up early to walk out into cool the backyard, coffee in hand, to smell the musty scents, see the shimmering orbs of water dotting the rose leaves, and listen to the birds talk. The colors outside, from the kale-green blades of grass to the mahogany-colored damp tree trunks, are at their richest on a wet spring morning.

After I finished my schooner of coffee and could, thus, think and function properly, I grabbed Agnes, my camera, for a spot of fun. Poor old girl has not seen as much action as usual lately because I've been working a lot, drat that, but she hasn't complained a bit. What a peach. Here are a couple of shots from our outing. More tomorrow! 

Enjoy this Memorial Day weekend. I'll be spending some time reflecting on the men and woman who have served in our Armed Forces and have sacrificed their lives to defend and protect our country over our long history. With deepest respect and gratitude, I'll be thinking about the contributions and sacrifices those brave soldiers have made for our benefit.

flowerhappy

Flowers make me happy. That is all.

or what?

Quick post, and I give you fair warning that obnoxious bragging is about to follow. Sorry. It's just that.... well, here's the story. 

So, Saturday was my younger daughter, Kelly's b-day. She was not spending it in Portland, where she lives, but in Bend, Oregon because she was there as part of a team representing her work to compete in a relay race. Her company had three teams in the race, so lots of their folk were in Bend. 

That evening, after the race, they all had a huge barbecue dinner, with a big cake to celebrate the Kelster's b-day. So far so good. They sing Happy Birthday to her, she starts to enjoy the feast, then... boom:, a sad occurrence. Her work friend's boyfriend snapped his achilles and needed to be rushed to the hospital, only his girlfriend was super upset, so Kelly decides she needs to drive them both to the emergency room, as they are both too upset to drive safely. That she does, spending the next several hours there until what could be done got done for the poor dude got done. Of course, by this time the barbecue was long over.

Anyhow, Kelly was telling me this story yesterday, and I go, "I'm so sorry that happened, and I'm sorry you barely got to enjoy the party."

Then she says, "I'm just glad that I could be there to take them to the hospital and stay with them. It's okay I missed the party. There will be other parties."

Oh my gosh, does she get it or what? Happy (belated) Birthday, Baby Girl! I heart you.

the good, the bad, and the ugly

I title this post the good, the bad, and the ugly because that has been a joke among my two sisters and me for about forty years, since our dad introduced us to some of his buddies that way. As in, "Meet my daughters... the good, the bad, and the ugly." What did he know? We only saw him about once every other full moon or so, if that, because he took no part in raising us. But still... 

Naturally, each of us was convinced that she, alone, was the one Dad referred to as "the good". We've each been campaigning for the recognition of such over all these long years. It's a joke. But it isn't. Don't we, each and every one of us, long to be accepted as we are? Don't we long to be the chosen favorite? 

Here and now, I lay down my sword. I don't care who he was referring to. Actually, I was probably "the ugly" because, as a child, I most resembled a frog. No joke. I have pictures to prove it. Anyhow, what I'm trying to say is we are still the good, the bad, and the ugly: deal with it, people. We are the unit of GBU. (Though GUB sounds better.) And, here's an update: my sister, Karen is at home now recovering from her stroke. Her prognosis is good. Let us thank the Lord for favors large and small.

what really counts

You go along in life with the usual ups and downs, then a teeter-totter day hits you and you know for sure that life is plenty mysterious and that your people are, in the end, all that really matters. 

Yesterday started out extremely happy: I found out my latest column is getting published in tomorrow's Dallas Morning News and the editor was very happy with it. Woot hoot! I celebrated by making a quick stop at the park to take a few pictures (including the ones on this page)on my way to the dentist. (Opposite of woot hoot.) Nature can be so soothing. I needed these pictures today.

What was supposed to be a quick dental appointment turned into a two-hour stint in the chair to include a delightful surprise filling for a tooth-chunk that had, unbeknownst to me, vamoosed from one of my few fully-intact teeth sometime since my last visit a month ago. Oh, great. And that crown I complained about several weeks ago, well, yeah that is still not finished. Don't ask. I have to go back on Monday morning for crown: round four. Fingers crossed.

Next, the teeter-totter swung back up. I got to work on a new editing project I landed this week, which is super-fun and interesting. It is a book. After several hours, I ran to Hobby Lobby for acrylic paint because my neighborhood craft buddy was coming over soon to paint rocks. At the store, things fell apart.

I got a call from my sister Karen. I'd been trying to reach her for two day to check on her, since she'd had an uncharacteristic headache-related health issue on Monday, requiring an ER visit. Soon as I heard her slurred speech, I knew things were not right and she needed to get back to the hospital pronto. Only she was also experiencing some confusion, making it difficult for her to make good decisions. We live many states apart, so it was an ordeal, requiring a small tribe from several states, to get her help. I will not go into all the details now, but she is finally getting an MRI this very minute. Please pray for her. She is a wonderful person, and one of my main people. 

If you remember nothing else I've ever told you, remember this: If someone who loves you tells you that you are experiencing a medical emergency and need to get to the hospital ASAP, DO IT. The stronger the instinct, the more reliable it is likely to be. Trust it. And, secondly, always take the time to spend every possible second with the people you love while you can. Those people are what really counts in this life.

color appreciation day

If life is a banquet of colors, why not surround yourself with feast upon feast of light and hue for your eyes to enjoy? 

dove alert

With apologies to the crow community, I must, report that the bird that attacked me yesterday morning was actually a mourning dove.Who knew mourning doves could be such haters? I got my personal body guard, Quiet Guy, to accompany me to the scene of the crime this morning. Ahah! I found the nest the evil bird was protecting. It was in a pink oleander bush right beside the fence where it all went down. Can I tell you that Mama bird had the most righteous little ring of blue encircling her little eyes? So lovely. She had a baby bird in the nest with her. Evil attack-Dad was hovering on the fence with his bad beak, but he didn't dare mess with me now that QG had my back. After a quick look at Mama and baby, QG and I got out of there. After all, it is Mother's Day, so Mama Dove should be able to enjoy.

No doubt she was planning on going to brunch someplace. Her and the rest of the world. Seriously, this Mother's Day Brunch thing is out of control. Stop the insanity, people. There other options. How 'bout a hike, or a nice bowl of granola to celebrate the day? Needless to say, I did not go to brunch today. Ugh.

I went to yoga with QG, then did a bit of thrifting and grocery-store shopping, which was super-fun, as I went to Central Market, which is more like a social event than a grocery stop. Of course, I dressed up in my fave skirt. Got an eighteen-buck rib eye steak, and that was the "sale" price. Oy. It is cooking now, so I must be off, as it is almost done. Caio, Beautiful People! Enjoy whatever this day has brought you.

Wildlife. Yay.

Oh, my Lord. Today, for the first time ever, I was attacked by a bird. I mean, I've been pooped on before, but never experienced hand-to-hand combat with a crow. I am not even kidding. 

I was walking Jamie the wonder dog to the park  at approximately seven a.m., minding my own business, when a crow swoops up from behind (in my blind spot), and ponks me on the head, pecking at me until I managed to fend him off via heroic screaming and flailing of the arms. That evil bird scrambled my ponytail into a mess worthy of the gal on Cold Case. (You know, the girl with the freakishly messy hairdo, episode after episode. Don't know her character's name due to the fact that I cannot bear to watch that show for more than five minutes due to her messy hairdo. Drives me berserk!)

Anyhow...as I was saying. What's up with the crows? Seriously. Is the Apocalypse imminent, or happening as we speak? Is it global warming? Trade winds? Obama? Bush? Letterman? Tell me.

On a lighter note, we caught a rat in our critter trap last night. That's rats one, opossums one, if you're keeping score. The reason we even got the trap was squirrels, but they studiously avoid it, busy hanging out in our attics and walls. Ha, ha.

With all of this wildlife, you would never know that we live in a sedate city suburb, miles and miles from the country. Go figure.

twenty-seven

Today, my baby girl turns twenty-seven. How is that possible, you might ask? I had her at age five, of course. Actually, I was twenty-five, but when I went to the OB doctor for the first time, having already peed on the strip and found it positive, he looks at my paperwork, eyes me up and down and goes, "Says here you're twenty four. How old are you really?" I go, "Ahh. Twenty four. Really." 

I think he suspected I was about twelve. Crazy dude. Anyhow, it's funny how my kids' b-days make me way more nostalgic than my own. It seems like only a day ago that this little ray of sunshine called Lauren came into my life.

What I remember most about that day, aside from the pain of course, was for the first time knowing that I, of all the people in the entire universe, was the absolute happiest. And I was. May each of us, whatever our reason, get to experience such a day. 

Happy Birthday Lauren! My fondest hope is to be just like you when I grow up. Really.

poem day

 Beginning

Now I see that the

answers were never as

important as the questions.

The sun rises, then sets. A

tree grows, then dies.

Objects, meaningful

to some, pass on.

How will

your life be

measured? Things?

Questions? People?

The sand is beneath you.

The tree limbs hover above.

Celebrate, if you believe. Do

you? What do you bring?  The

orange of sunset,  your own

heartbeat in tandem with

another? Tell me. Who

knows  which way

the wind will

blow?

-2013 Kimberly Laustsen

bee & burger day

Not much to say today, because I have been outside working my yard in the sunshine. Besides that, I took my buddy Carolyn to my favorite camera store (Competitive Cameras on Irving Blvd in Dallas) to watch her buy a new camera and cheer her on. Afterwards, we celebrated with a burger at Riverside Grill (just south of the store at 940 Riverfront Blvd) which is a cool place that looks like it's been there for fifty years at least without changing one bit. They've got juicy (aka delightfully greasy) burgers with poppy seed buns for only $3.25, as well as interesting stuff like ham steak with pineapple rings and chicken fried steak. It's only open for breakfast and lunch, so plan accordingly if you go, and go you definitely should.That's two burgers in three days for me. Oh yeah, baby.

Talk about enjoying yourself, check out this bee from my backyard. Now there's a lesson in wholehearted being and enjoying life. We should all live like bees. I love those guys. They're so jaunty and adorable, not to mention the grand honey they manufacture.

Crisp Scottish Scones recipe

Yesterday, I made these scones for a morning of chatting and crocheting with my beautiful crafting buddies. I combined ideas from several recipes for these. They were so crunchy and tasty, I thought you might like the recipe. For topping, I recommend Irish butter, possibly with honey or blackberry preserves. Life is short. Eat lots of scones.

Crisp Scottish Scones

2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons sugar
1/3 cup butter
2/3 cup low-fat buttermilk
1 large egg, beaten

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Throw your seasoned baking stone in there to heat, or a greased and floured cookie sheet if you have no stone. In the meantime, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar. Grate the butter over this mixture with a fine to medium cheese grater, gently mixing it in as you go. Add the buttermilk and egg. With your hands, work it, in the bowl, into a ball. Now, pull the hot stone out of the oven and sprinkle on a little flour. Take the ball of dough, pat it into a disc about 1/2 inch thick. Plop this onto the stone (or cookie sheet) and with a pizza cutter, quickly slice into 8-12 wedges, depending on how large you want them. Scoot the wedges apart as much as the surface will allow. Bake 15 minutes or so, then eat them warm with coffee or tea. Och, that's guid!

my thrifting life

Today, I have my recent thrifting finds to share. Eeeek - thrifting is so fun! What's more enjoyable than sauntering through a Goodwill checking out the wares? Though I try not to spend time doing such too often, now and then, a thrifting afternoon is just what the doctor ordered.

A few years ago, I went through the workbook, The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron. It is a great tool for getting more in touch with your creative side. No matter what your creative interest, I recommend this book and have given it to many pals. One major assignment Julia gives in the book is the weekly "artist's date." This is some activity, which you particularly enjoy doing alone for a couple hours. She not only gives you permission to indulge, but she orders you to do so, at least once a week. For me, this whole concept was revolutionary. I'd not been raised to indulge. Nor to enjoy frivolity. Alas, Ms. Cameron required me to do so, at least for a couple hours each week.

I wonder how many other women out there are like I was, thinking, it's fine to sacrifice for everybody but myself. Why do we, as women, often think of our own needs as taboo. The artists' date changed my life in a real way, giving me permission to while away a few hours a week doing nothing whatsoever productive.

Generally, my artist's dates consist of me wandering aimlessly through Goodwill: it's my drug of choice. Could be worse. A lot of times, I don't buy anything. I'm picky. But here are a few of my recent finds. The wooden trivet was only 99 cents. The flip flops were also 99 cents. I know what you're thinking... used shoes.. eeeeeu. These were brand new, and will do me just fine at the gym pool. The schweet long shorts were $4.99, but I had a coupon, so they cost me $2.49. Nice. The belt was $1.99. Not too bad. I implore you to indulge your whimsy, at least once in a while. You need it. You deserve it!

Happy May Day

Happy May Day! These flowers are my gift to you. I'd never even heard of May Day till I lived in St. Louis and my friend Jean introduced me to it. She always made flower baskets for friends on this day. How cool. Every year on May first, I think of Jean and her flowers. Interesting how the gifts our friends give us, many invisible, such as ideas or caring words, continue to sustain us even when we're far apart.