the adorable little man

So, today this adorable thing happened. I went to the vein doctor. That's not the adorable part. While I was patiently waiting to get a sonogram of the lovely(not) dysfunctional vein on my right leg, which is soon to be history, a little man and his wife came out from behind the doors sealing off the actual doctor's office, the inner sanctum if you will, from the waiting room, where I sat. The man had those miserable compression stockings on both legs and he walked with a cane. But did these facts bring him down? Nope. He was smiling right and left. He was pouring his smile out onto everyone. He must have been in his eighties. His wife cheerfully walked behind him carrying all the paperwork, her big purse and a huge reusable sack, now empty.

It took this couple about ten minutes to get out the door because they were hugging the various nurses, clerks and assistants. They were chatting away about recipes and thanking everyone profusely. On the way out through the waiting room, they ran into the male nurse and, even though he hadn't even helped them, they asked him did he want a cookbook, apologizing for having run out of them and promising to bring him one on their follow-up visit in a couple of weeks. After they left, the place seemed empty.

When I got into the room for the sonogram, the technician, Shelia, was actually dabbing her eyes, telling me that she'd just had possibly the nicest patient of her life in both the older gentleman and his wife sidekick. On her counter sat a cookbook and a huge jar of salsa. The cookbook is the man's collection of all the recipes he's created over a lifetime. His wife was the typist. The salsa he'd made that morning (which means he must have gotten up at dawn to do it because his appointment was early), giving it out to everyone he encountered in the office, about ten staffers. He gives his cookbooks and food out for free just to make people happy.

Shelia confessed to feeling guilty because she had not been excited to see an elderly gentleman on the schedule first thing this morning, as such patients are often crotchety or sullen, but instead she'd met one of the most precious couples on Earth and now she was inspired to emulate them (though I thought she was super-nice already). But, the point is, look what a difference kindness can make. Everyone in the office was talking about the couple and had brighter days because of them.

I wish I'd had my camera along to snap the couple's photo. Instead here are two shots of the Texas sage bush at our neighborhood park. I've never seen it so lush as it is this year, which is something else to be cheerful about.

fig day

Something about taking pictures of fruit fills me with joy and happiness. I can never get over the art of fruit. Amazing, complex, luscious, and all created by nature for us to enjoy. These figs were picked from my buddy Iris's tree yesterday. She has a bumper crop this year. Hurrah!

Be still. Breathe. Shine.

When you need a friend, relax. I'm here to shelter you.

climbing into words

Sometimes I think there are two kinds of poets. There are the folks with actual talent who will become the pros, and then there are the others: those who slog away, bellying up to the page day after day if only to make sense of their lives.

As you might have guessed, I am the later. Words excite me, words send me into orbits of wonder. I sit and write, if only to figure out my next step. I love words. I will never be famous, but who cares? That is not the important thing.

I think that if everyone wrote a poem a day this world would be a better place. I am convinced of it. So let the movement start here. Sit. Take a pencil. Jot a few lines. And tomorrow, repeat.

The best thing about writing poems off the top of your head is that mystery takes over. You solve problems you didn't know you had. You get to play with words, those shy, funny creatures.


Twin

The name I really
want, Baraxa,
is a strong name. A
never-been-heard-before
name.

Who wouldn't
want such a name
when facing
a room full of
strangers?

    -Kimberly Laustsen 2013

This poem is about confidence, or whatever your nemesis is. It would be so nice to have this outside thing: this name or cloak obtainable without effort to toss on when needed. But life holds no such tricks. We must earn what we own. We must work for our lessons. If we want to be fit, we must actually exercise and eat right. Darn that reality. If only we could invent a name and become it. Like Baraxa. How cool would that chick be? Very. No doubt.

how to make a cross body purse from neckties

It's craft day. Long overdue. Something about making things with your own hands is so therapeutic and peppy. Today, I decided to make a small cross body purse out of a few old ties. I picked light colors for summer. This bag is super quick and easy. Here's how to make it.

First, gather four ties and a bit of fabric. Try to have two sets of two that are equally wide. I used the wider set for the front and back, and the narrower set for the sides/straps.

First, I closed the opening at the bottom inside edge of the ties by running a straight stitch along this little hill portion. This is not absolutely necessary, but gives the inside of the bag a cleaner construction.

Now, set your sewing machine on a wide and close zigzag stitch. Figure out how tall you want the body of your bag to be, and mark that far up from bottom corner edges on both sides of each tie. I used 7 and 1/2 inches. but together the edges of each tie and zigzag stitch together up to pins, insides all facing the same way. You will now have a flat portion with all four ties together. Carefully join the outside edges to make a cylinder shape.

Flatten down so that the strap edges are folded together like a taco and the front and back are on top of each other, wrong sides together. Straight stitch along bottom at the widest part so that the points of the ties hang free. Go over this with a close zigzag.

Choose which side to make flap. You could just cut off allowing room for flap to be folded over like a hem and stitched or you could add fabric to the flap edge. I sewed a bit of cute owl fabric over the edge, enclosing it to add strength and interest. Cut the non-flap side off so as to allow room to turn twice and hem leaving the hemmed edge flush with the seams up the sides.

Now if you want, you can sew a button and loop using whatever material you want. I used a strip of leather cut from an old jacket for my button loop.

Now all you have to do is join the long ends of the ties and trim. Figure out how long you want the bag to be, then pin straps together. I like to join on the diagonal and make two seams, going along the edge of both in a rhombus shape to add strength. I straight stitch, then zigzag over that. Okay, so maybe I do tend to over-engineer things a bit, but I want to make sure the bag is sturdy. Now you are done! Enjoy. PS I hope these instructions are clear. If you have any questions, message me and I'll clarify.

quote day

Do not let your heart be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.

                                                                           - John 14:1

I love this quote from the book of John. It is easy for me to let my heart be troubled. I was born anxious. It is easy for many to be swept into hatred or hard feelings in our nation lately. 

Everybody has had hard times in their life, no matter their station or appearance. I hope that when I see my fellow citizens I will choose to see their struggle as well as their dignity. I hope that I will choose to love no matter what, and to work out that love in deeds beginning at home and going out from there. There is a little girl in my neighborhood who needs a pal. I am that pal. We talk. We walk. We listen to music. We eat pretzels and color. I listen. That is nothing amazing or particuarly noble on my part. It is one small ongoing effort.

That is my point. If you think about the problems in our nation now, they seem huge and overwhelming. So many negative voices. But we can all do something to help. Everyone can do one positive act nearby to be a helper. Put those acts together, and  real progress can be made. Do not let your heart be troubled. Choose to trust.

words & pictures

Done editing photos. Whew. Thousands gone. The few and the proud remain.Now on to the next stage of learning, whereby I try to educate myself via Photoshop classroom in a book and DVD. Isn't that what life is all about: as soon as you kind of get the hang of one thing, you find out how much more there is to learn, thus you are always a beginner. I am, anyhow.

It is Friday, people. I hope you dedicate yourself to slowing down this weekend to enjoy the folks, or creatures around you. The best part about all the computer time I've spent the past few days working on photos is my dog, Jamie. She is almost thirteen. For a big dog like her, that's old. And the older she gets, the quirkier and more afraid of storms she gets. She doesn't enjoy displays of affection anymore like she used to, but when I am working on pictures, she likes to lay right at my feet. I slip my left foot over her paw and rest it there, like we are holding hands. She stays put, instead of squirming away, like she does when I overtly pet her too much. It is nice, this contract we have. She helps me edit via paw touch as long as I don't acknowledge her.

These are a couple of my favorites among the shots I've sorted through. This sorting has helped me to see what is most important to my lens: what I end up keeping. Every life has things which call. Every life is different. Love that. I am learning to appreciate every person's story for the items it carries along.

Lance's world famous salsa recipe

I am an appreciator. I can savor the heck out of anything from a beautifully crafted doorknob to a fine scotch. Enter my buddy Lance Nail: salsa artist. Lance has been making salsa for years, continually tweaking the recipe in his efforts to attain perfection. I have tasted many of his batches, all delicious. However, last week he managed to pry open the doors of heaven. A sunbeam escaped to shine straight into his food processor. The recipe is now final. It is happiness on a chip: the best salsa I've ever tasted. That's saying something because I heart salsa. The best part? He said I can give out the recipe. Here it is. Enjoy!

Lance's World Famous Salsa

4 fresh tomatoes
1 medium sweet yellow onion
2 cloves of garlic, peeled 
1 handful fresh cilantro
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon Mitchell Street Steak Seasoning (Penseys spices)
1 teaspoon chipotle pepper seasoning
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon garlic salt
Juice from 1/2 of a lime
1 jalapeño pepper, seeded

Put all ingredients into a food processor. Mix. If you want a hotter version, leave the jalapeño pepper seeds in, or part of them according to how hot and spicy you want the salsa to be.

wonder to wonder

I'm on day three of massive amounts of photo editing. How many hours can one stare at photos without going cross-eyed? It's been interesting. I've pitched well over half of my formerly precious photos and it begs the question: why do we keep what we keep as we pass through this life and toss other stuff that seems so keepable? Think about how many items you have tossed thus far in your life. How many trinkets, lipsticks, pairs of jeans, shoes, and ideas have been relegated to the circular file? And yet, I'll bet you have a few random items you've held onto for no apparent reason. Except that your arm won't work when you try to throw the thing away. The workings of the heart are secret and inscrutable.

For some reason, I love the photo above. It is not special, but it reminds me of when I was six, riding my bike around our Miami neighborhood with my cousin Ronnie, who lived with us. It was Easter morning and I rode, steering with my left hand while eating my chocolate bunny with the right. I was on top of the world till I went over a bump and dropped my bunny into the mud that had collected from the overnight rain. I started to cry. Ronnie was behind me and immediately held his bunny out for me to take, saying, "Here." Why does this picture take me back there?

And this picture. It holds some secret which makes me happy. I could look at it all day and I don't quite know why. Ditto with the top photo of the jacaranda tree. Even the word jacaranda is amazing. Say it aloud. Go ahead. It will make you smile. I guarantee. Is that what art is about? Mystery and magic? Trying to grasp what is just beyond reach, wonder to wonder?

rain & flowers

Today was cool and rainy here in Dallas, what a treat. Quiet Guy and I walked the dog and all of the earthy scents: wet grass, leaves, trees, and dirt were so refreshing. 

I've been working on pictures most of the day. I have a new plan. I went all the way back to day one of my blog and picture taking to delete the duds (over 4,000 and I still have a year's worth to go through... yikes) to organize all those left and establish a good storage system from here on out. Wish me luck, as I have a lot to learn, but I'm trying. That's the important thing. Here are a couple of recent flower shots. Just looking at these delicate creations fills me with joy. The color, the design, and the movement of each piece as it reaches for sunlight is so incredible. Anyhow, I hope they bring you a spot of happiness, too.

a thrifting we will go

Happy Friday! Here are some pretty schweet recent thrifting finds for you to envy. Just kidding, as I'm sure you have your own recent finds to enjoy. If you're into that sort of thing, that is. And really, who wouldn't be when it is so much fun? I got this needlepoint for ten bucks. It was so sad, because on the back is written Merry Christmas, Love, Mom. Who would get rid of that?

Got this adorable chair for fifteen bucks. The watch for 5 and the necklace for $1.99. I like the watch because I don't have to put on my glasses to see it now that my eyes are so bad. Darn that aging.

These glass sets were found separately, costing about 7 bucks all told. I get easily bored of glasses, so getting ones this cheaply lets me switch them out often without guilt. Though I may keep these forever, they are so perky and cheerful.

the D in DNA

This morning, I woke up with my head buzzing with a million things to do. It is now after one and I have accomplished none of them, though I did succeed in making a list. That is something. I aspire to be a list maker so I can have a totally organized life, checking off box after box, but I usually get so exhausted just thinking about all the stuff I need to put on the list that I have to sit down and have a snack. Then I saunter outside and take pictures. Then I write a couple of poems. Then I take more pictures of whatever fruit is sitting around in my fruit bowl. Then I make a salad for lunch, followed by a spoonful if ice cream straight from the carton. I avoid doing anything because there are too many things to do, too many things I need to get better at. Like making lists, for example.

Last night, I was with three of my oldest and best friends. I am like the cherry on this pile of cherries because I wouldn't be anywhere without the people who make my life... well, a life. I would just be rolling around in the dry and bumpy pits. It's funny, because earlier that day, I was praying for God to show himself to me in a tangible way and it occurs to me that he did it. He was sitting beside me all evening in the form of three warm bodies with words of wisdom.

The good thing about real friends is that when you tell them you are tired of working really hard just to feel acceptable to the world at large and not to be a total dork, they will tell you the truth: dork is the D in your DNA. But they love you anyway. One even mentions the extra room in her house where any of us can stay anytime for life. (Hmm. I could be happy floating in that pool for a week or so next summer.) But the best part? They tell you they're dorks, too. And that most people are, even though they try to hide it. We are all just striving to be loved and accepted as is.

Don't we (and by we, I mean I) waste a lot of time wringing our hands instead of embracing ourselves, quirks and all, then extending that tenderness to other people. Makes sense to decide, once and for all, to dispense with the wringing and hug it out. (Which can be a little awkward, depending on how long your arms are.) This whole deal is like slapping on your oxygen mask first in order to assist those nearby. Interesting. I mean, if God loved us enough to whip each of us up uniquely, fearful and wonderfully, shouldn't that be enough to prove our worth without quibble?

After last evening, I am cheered immensely. My new plan is to keep a rolling to-do list, but to focus on accomplishing two a day, instead of fretting over the whole shebang. Two, as a goal, is not scary at all. Any dork can do that. And now, as soon as I hit post, I will be down to one. If only drink a cup of hot tea was on the list, I'd be done and could chill and read a book. If I added read to the list, I'd be overachieving. Not to self: breathe. Repeat. Giggle. Breathe. Repeat.

seven memoirs to read

I love to climb inside of a good memoir. Sometimes, I get so transfixed, I think I'm that person experiencing their life and I have a hard time sliding back into my own skin once the book ends. I love that. What an adventure. My favorite memoirs are those about regular, non-famous people. I have many favorites, but today, I'll share a few gems, including my top pick.

Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight by Alexandra Fuller is about her childhood in Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, where she moved to from England with her parents when when was a baby, in 1966. She tells the story straight out, as if she were talking to a friend, which is brave, as this is the story of a family with plenty of foibles in a country filled with many textures and layers. I love her honesty and humor no matter what.

Nothing to Do but Stay by Carrie Young is such a gem I refuse to lend it out because it is so hard to find. I can't believe this book was not a best seller. It is the story of her mother (okay, this one is not technically a memoir, but a biography... so sue me) who, at age 25 in 1904 endeavors to stake a claim on the windy North Dakota prairie: no small task and the beginning of the family farm where she raises six children. The stories in the book show just how life was back then and how this amazing woman carved out her life. Should be required reading in schools.

Little Britches by Ralph Moody is the first in an eight book series that tells the author's life. This one starts in 1906, when Ralph was eight and the family moved from New Hampshire to Colorado to become ranchers. Ralph does a great job of describing life then, with all of the hard work, hard times and family bonds, my favorite of which is his relationship with his mom. This is expanded in Mary Emma and company, my favorite in this series, but you will want to read them in order. Love them all.

Tender at the Bone is the first of Ruth Reichl's memoirs, covering her childhood through early adolescence. Ruth humorously recounts so many scenes which lead up to her interest in cooking and food, such as the time her mother gave an entire party of guests food poisoning. This book is told with sensitivity and describes tons of interesting people besides Ruth who you come to feel is your BFF by the time you finish the book. Ruth and I are still close.

A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel is almost my favorite memoir, and the sequel, She Got up off the Couch is even better, which is unusual. Oh my lordie, Haven cracks me up, but sometimes she makes me cry. What else could you want in a memoir, I ask you? The book is about her quirky family and townsfolk the a small Indiana town of Mooreland with lots of details and honest telling. The best thing is that, if you come from a crazy-ish family, when you read this book, you will feel that your family is normal. Gotta love that.

Life is So Good by George Dawson and Richard Glubman tells the life story of George, who learned to read when he was ninety eight and wrote the book at age 103. George was the grandson of a slave and he tells the story of his life with honesty, humor, and great zest for life. When I grow up, I want to be just like George. He was an amazing man and I learned so much from him.

A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas is my all-time favorite memoir. This gal did not start writing till she was in her late forties, but her style is stellar. The book starts on the night her beloved second husband suffers a traumatic brain injury. We get to find out little things about her life: her knitting, visits to her husband, dog acquisitions, socks, relationship with her purse, random encounters with people, etc. I think she is heroic in this book because she is so honest and I love hearing about what she thinks about. Abigail is my hero and buddy and I like how she doesn't editorialize or opine, but just tells you what is going on so you can learn from her experiences. This book reads like poetry.

three good things

This is my buddy Joe the grasshopper enjoying his freedom and counting his blessings. He is here to wish you a happy Fourth of July. Today is a day to put all of your cares and troubles up on the shelf, to relax, snack and enjoy the outdoors. 

It is easy to be all dreamy and say count your blessings when plenty of crappy things happen all the time. But, if you think about it, the counting your blessings thing is not so easy. Yesterday, a buddy of mine's car got totaled. That is surely depressing. The good part, though was that nobody got hurt, she had insurance, and cars are replaceable. 

It takes effort to focus on the positive when bad things happen. That is a habit I am working on by mentally reviewing my day each evening to come up with three good things to ponder as I fall asleep. I used to do this, but fell out of the habit. Why is it that wholesome habits seem so much harder to maintain than lame ones? Meditating twenty minutes a day never gets easy, nor do chaturangas. On particularly dismal days, there is always the existence of ice cream to celebrate. 

Yesterday, this grasshopper made the list. I found him at Arbor Hills Nature Preserve. Isn't he mesmerizing? For some reason, he looks like a Joe, don't you think? Anyhow, Happy Fourth!  

column schmolum

I just submitted my DMN column. Whew. It was due today. Naturally, I am now drenched in sweat. Literally. It's not pretty. Every time I submit something, I have to go through the obligatory self-loathing and panic just to appease the Gods of Humility or something. I guess I will never be a hilariously confident person. I've decided that is something you have to learn as a child. 

But it is better to be under-confident than overconfident because it is less likely to land you in jail. For example, if you try to rob the restaurant where you work as a cook and your only disguise is one leg of a pantyhose jammed over your head, they will probably recognize you no matter how confident you are, and put you in jail. + Disclaimer: this example is purely hypothetical. Any resemblance to the antics of a family member of mine is coincidental. 

And who likes confident people, anyhow? They're so predictable and boring. My new goal is to be confidence neutral. I may be inching closer, based on my slightly-less-diffuse sweat levels compared with the last column.

Manna


Lord, 
give 
me 
eyes 
to 
see
the 
beauty
in 
nature
and 
me.
         -Kimberly Laustsen 2013