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.