Tuesdays with Kay

Ever Jumped Off a Roller Coaster?

2011-11-14T15:02:00.001-05:00

Life ever feel like a roller coaster? Up and down, just to go up and down again? And again?
Yesterday when I heard someone say that some folks lives are like roller coasters and they never seem to get off, it struck a chord with me. Over the summer we not only moved, but my literary agent quit. Citing some family problems and other vague things she quit and left her clients with nothing more. No explanations, no assurance of what she'd done for us, nothing but silence.
Start the roller coaster!
My emotions jumped on and went straight for the bottom only to then jerk upward and push upward and upward and just when I saw the light of day - Boom, down to the bottom again. It's a ride I swore I wanted to get off of, but when I looked around it always seemed the station was slowly passing behind me and the track ahead curved out of sight.
Can the roller coaster become our normal? Can it become so familiar that to relax and feel peaceful seems scary? When a week without tears makes one wary?
Pastor Hollie yesterday was speaking about just that - when we get so used to turmoil, we no longer can see the peace being offered.
Next time that station comes around - I'm going to be ready for it.
How about you? Got a roller coaster to jump off of?

New gets Old or Back to the Hobbit Hole

2011-09-09T08:07:00.000-04:00

I tried reading the Lord of the Rings books, starting with "The Hobbit". The beginning set in the adorable hobbits home in the beautiful Shire was lovely. Just lovely. Then they started off on this trip, or quest, or whatever and all I found myself thinking was, "When are they going back to the hobbit hole?" But, if you know anything about the books, they don't get back for a long, long, loooong time.
So I quit reading them.
From this I learned that home is my favorite, adventure is over-rated and familiar is better than unfamiliar. So what am I doing in a completely new setting where nothing is familiar and there is no way to go back home?
I'm tired of telling people where we moved from and why we moved. Sure, I'll buy the same scented Yankee Candle for fall (Spiced Pumpkin) but where do I put it? Everything goes somewhere I haven't figured out yet. Nothing is easy or routine, and that's getting old.
But I guess that's the deal, things can't become familiar or routine unless you do them, and keep doing them, then do them some more. Maybe this is a chance to set some new things in motion. To choose what will be familiar, routine, and yes, even mundane one day.
What about you? Anything you'd NOT put into today if you were just starting it?
Good, 'cause you get a new one tomorrow.

Cashiers Beware, We Talk to Everybody.

2011-08-29T10:57:00.004-04:00

Yeah, we talk to everybody. I realized this was a cultural thing when I moved up North. On one of my first shopping trips the poor cashier looked lost when I started chatting with her about our move and my kids. It took a bit for me to realize it wasn't just her that didn't have much to say, none of the cashiers seemed to want to share what was going on in their lives in that 10 minutes we crossed paths.
All that was for those of you who might not understand when I tell you Mike and I had a life-changing talk with one of the bellhops at our hotel this weekend.
He was a nice young man. He said he was a student. I asked where. He said Savannah State. I asked what his major was. He said Chemistry. Then, he added, "But I don't really know what to do with that degree." Well, I jumped all over that. Told him about a friend of ours who works in the Chemical industry and how they couldn't find any young Chemical engineers. Well, by now we were up in the room and Mike told our young bellhop how to find more information on the field. Charles, yes, we were on first name basis at this point, told us how appreciative he was and then he said, "When I graduated and told my uncle I was going into Chemistry he told me no one in our family was that smart and I shouldn't do it."
Stunned, we proceeded to tell him we were both first generation college grads in our families and he was a smart, personable young man who most definitely could prove his uncle wrong. We watched the relief in Charles' eyes and the straightening of his shoulders as we continued to talk. I don't think life-changing is too strong of a description.
See, that's why we talk to everybody.

I'd Jerk a Knot . . .

2011-08-25T09:07:00.004-04:00

"I'd jerk a knot in his tail." Mama would say that when one of our friends was willfully misbehaving. She'd also say it a quite a bit while watching her soaps. She meant there would be an immediate reckoning and things would be a-changin'.
This line came to my mind as I looked at our pool this morning. Folks with pools are familiar with the word "shock", both as a noun and a verb. Shock is a little bag of chemicals that shocks the bacteria in the pool back to normal.
Shock is my friend.
Last week we let things get out of hand and woke up to green stuff in the pool. Algae. Yep, I shocked it and immediately things began getting better. You may say I jerked a knot in that pool. (Okay, you may not.)
Over the summer I let things get out of hand and doubt started creeping around my edges, much like that algae started in the darker corners. I fought it some, but really, it wasn't so bad. However, pretty soon there wasn't much clearness left at all. Even in situations that called for pure Joy, things were a tad murky.
So I gave God permission to jerk a knot in my tail. You see, he doesn't just barge in and tell me what to do. He waits for me to want it. Do you remember all the times when Jesus asked the sick or lame what they wanted him to do?
Putting ourselves in the Presence of God sounds all nice and sweet, but a lot of times he's holding a bag of shock.

Tuesdays with Kay: Happened in the Shower

2011-08-23T09:19:00.000-04:00

Tuesdays with Kay: Happened in the Shower: It happened while I was cleaning the shower yesterday. This kinda feels like Home.
Raise your hand if you noticed I haven't blogged in seve...

Happened in the Shower

2011-08-23T08:54:00.004-04:00

It happened while I was cleaning the shower yesterday. This kinda feels like Home.
Raise your hand if you noticed I haven't blogged in several months.
Back in March we found out we might get the opportunity to move to Florida with a job promotion for Mike. However it took until May for that to be settled and then once the ball started rolling, it went fasterer and fasterer. We sold the house in eight days (I know, amazing) and found a new one. We lived in a hotel for a couple weeks and then moved-in here on August 2nd. During that time putting my thoughts down on paper (or computer screen) just wasn't happening. Too many things that couldn't be said or that I didn't want to say. One of the things I couldn't say for a while was that we're going to be grandparents, which is wonderful news. And then there's stuff happening with my writing, I didn't want to say. But more about both of those on another day.
Today is about that click in our heads as certain information tumbles into place. Like when you know autumn is coming. Or when, with just one look, you realize a couple is falling in love. Or the way we just know our kid is lying to us. So why does this house feel like home today? Was it cleaning the shower? Was it coming home late at night after a trip to Georgia on Sunday? Is it just the weight of facts that keep building, one after the other?
I've questioned my ability to KNOW things this summer. Questioned it deeply and with many tears. But once again I believe I have to trust that I do KNOW sometimes. I really do.
Do you?

Let Go? Not sure about that. . .

2011-05-24T10:07:00.003-04:00

Gardenia perfume greeted me on our back deck this morning from the two bushes we planted by the pool our first summer here. Those tiny camilla bushes which promised blooms in January when we'd be in the hot tub, are now twelve feet high. Forsynthia bushes fill the yard with yellow sprays in early spring and they are all from cuttings out of my parents yard. On a path in the backyard bright orange and yellow Oriental lilies will bloom soon and remind me of how Mike's dad sent them as little bits of green a decade ago. How can we leave all this beauty? All the memories?
But we will, because it's time to let go. Time for this home which has sheltered and held us to be home for another family. I think of them often. Pray for them often. Not sure it's possible, but I hope they laugh here as much as we did. I hope they find peace and joy and love here. I hope they gather the gardenias to bring that heady smell indoors. I hope they enjoy the shade from the maples which sprung up where no evidence of the trees that fell in the tornado still exists.
Letting go is hard, but letting go when it's time is the only way to keep an open heart and open hands.
Wonder if the people in our future home are praying for us? Not that's a cool thought.

Fully Aware?

2011-05-23T09:27:00.002-04:00

Lights on in all the rooms. Doors opening and closing. And opening and closing. Driveway as busy as Hartfield runways. Requests for help on the computer, to sew on a button, food. Clutter magically appearing like trails left by slugs.
Yep, some of the kids were home this weekend.
There were reasons to be here including a wedding, interviews, packing for camp, trying on a dress for sorority rush, taking home stuff they don't want moved to Jacksonville, and to wave at us as they passed through on their way to and fro.
Wow - hard to believe that was how we used to live. It seems so hectic and loud and chaotic but at the time it was just busy - and fun. We truly enjoyed it. I think that's why we don't miss it. We lived it and appreciated it and now have moved on to another part of our life.
Mama told me a long time ago that was the way to avoid regrets. Live the moment so fully aware, that regrets never get any room to even begin.
Being Fully Aware. Takes time. Takes feeling. Takes intention.Yes, being Fully Aware takes alot.
But it gives so much more.

Moving is Scary!

2011-05-19T07:44:00.002-04:00

Yep, we're hitting the road and moving to Jacksonville, Florida. We're so excited. . .
And sad.
We've loved our twelve years here and have some amazing friends. Our kids are fairly close by and we love our house (and the pool, of course). But. . . the adventure calls to us. It feels right.
And you want to know how blessed I am? Our friends and family are excited for us. In the midst of Daddy's health problems, I didn't like telling Mama we were moving six more hours down the road. Yet, first words out of her mouth were, "What a great adventure!" She'll never know what that did to let us relax and enjoy this move.
And that's the kind of parent I want to be. A parent who meets every opportunity my kids face with enthusiasm and joy. That's the kind of friend I want to be, the kind of wife I want to be.
Making it easier for those close to me to seize the adventures opening up to them sounds like a worthy goal to have.
But it also sounds pretty scary.

What's Your Message?

2011-05-11T10:04:00.003-04:00

Ever see a celebrity advertising a product and wonder why they were chosen for that product? Usually it's not too hard, right? That's because that person fits the message the advertiser wants to send. Then we all know of the cases where a celebrity looses their endorsments because they fail to uphold the message. Funny thing about that is they may loose their wholesome, family product endorsement, but they then they show up somewhere else - suddenly fitting a whole new message.
I met with my agent last week and while the food and drinks she provided were great (and very appreciated) she provided something more important. She gave me back my vision. My vision for what I do in my writing. My vision for the future of the agency. My vision of myself.
She helped me remember the message I want to fit and she encouraged me that it was the right message for me to fit.
What are you endorsing today? What message do you fit? Is it the one you want to fit? Are you trying to fit too many messages? Do you confuse the folks around you-even the ones who know you best?
Finding, and then fitting, our own special message is important. We get to give life to a message - make sure it's worth your time and trouble.

This is Crazy, This is Crazy, This is Crazy

2011-05-04T18:04:00.006-04:00

"This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy." Now, those of you belonging to the culturally elite are picturing Clark Griswold (Chevy Chase) in "Vacation" standing on a hotel pool diving board swinging his arms back and forth. What is he calling crazy? That he's getting ready to jump into the pool where a dreamy model (Christie Brinkley) waits. She's naked, and not his wife.
Haven't we all stood on the edge of something, thinking jumping would be crazy and yet . . . Applying to that beyond dream college, asking out that girl you just met, signing enlistment papers, moving to the other side of the world - state - city, deciding to be a parent-then deciding to do it again, and again, changing careers instead of checking out retirement options.
And yet we jump.
Recently, talking to my agent I asked, "Am I delusional?" She laughed and said, "No, you have a vision."
But seriously, when that chant of "This is crazy" gets to going, don't you feel delusional? I sure do. And if I'm not careful I can let the fear of being delusional keep me from jumping. Making sure I'm connected with my vision helps me spot when I might actually be deluded. Good to remember.
What do you want to jump in to but fear of delusion is clouding your vision? Even harder for me to ask myself is this - Who in my life is ready to jump but I'm feeding their delusion monster?
Clark was right, for him jumping was crazy. But if it fits the vision we've been given, isn't it crazier not to jump?

Running Ahead - Come On!

2011-03-02T09:46:00.004-05:00

Mike and I went walking in a local park on recent beautiful Saturday. The park was full of young families. As Mike and I stopped beside the stream for a moment or two, one of those young families headed off on the wooded path which begins by crossing a bridge. Mom and Dad walked at a steady pace, but anyone that's ever started out on a walk with a child can guess where their little daughter was. Yep, six paces ahead skipping, hopping, jumping all to her own sing-song refrain of "Come on. Come on. Come on." Occasionally she'd personalize it with a "Mom" or "Daddy".
They passed on by and we headed for our car. We then came upon another small family, also at the end of their time at the park. Can you guess where their child was? Yep, on Dad's shoulders. No running ahead, no urges to go faster, no pushing for side trips and races. The little boy's head drooped a bit, his back bowed, and his little arms had all they could contend with just holding onto his daddy's head. The legs streaked with dirt hung limp and tired. The walk which had refreshed and strengthened mom and dad, had worn him out.
Such a simple thing to learn, but I don't think I have.
God and I start out on a journey and I can't enjoy it for wanting to go faster, see more, climb the hill quicker, have a little race with others on the journey, jump, skip, hop anything but just walk.
And how do I end up? Worn out.
Lucky for me God doesn't just shake his head in pity as he passes me by. Nope, he picks me up. Time and Time again 'cause I don't seem to learn this lesson very well.
How about you? Anybody else have a tendency to run ahead of God? For some reason I don't think I'm the only one he has to carry sometimes.

Dreams can get HEAVY

2011-02-22T08:02:00.003-05:00

Dreams can get kinda heavy, but you know, that's just not on their labeling.
Dreams are associated with things like rainbows and clouds and unicorns. Lately, my dream of being a published author has gained weight and gotten a bit hard to carry around. (Of course, it is fifteen years old and who hasn't gained weight in the past fifteen years?) So I drag it around with me and wish it would get up and walk on it's own two feet, earn it's own way, do some good for a change.
Want to hear something really bad? Maybe that's why I like American Idol.
Each week I get to see bunches of folks whose dreams let them down, too. (Whoah, I probably shouldn't leave that in today's blog, should I?)
Then this morning I got a new thought - I'm not the only one carrying this dream.
God let me know that he was carrying me and then added a new thought - he's carrying me AND my dream. Pretty clearly let me know that neither one of us are that heavy to him.
How cool is that? So now I'm feeling way lighter, much happier, and free to take a rest.
Bring on the rainbows and unicorns!

Is Trusting Easy for You?

2011-02-21T09:51:00.001-05:00

The ability to trust is an amazing luxury.
I shared in a small group recently that my ability to trust is great because I've not been betrayed. Their shock surprised me. I hadn't really meant for the focus to be on me not being betrayed, but rather on my ability to trust not being such a great accomplishment on my part. Those who have been hurt by people they love - them being able to trust is huge to me. But, when you've not been hurt by those close to you?
The more I looked at it the more I was able to see the self-fulfilling prophecy of trust. I am able to trust easily because my trust hasn't been betrayed. However, my trust probably hasn't been betrayed because I've been trained to look for trustworthy people. I also don't have a high tolerance for just hanging around waiting to be hurt. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice - you can try, but it ain't happenin' cause I got my eyes open.
There are just so many good, trust-worthy people out there wanting friends and wanting relationships - I never spent much time trying to turn the untrustworthy into people worthy of trust. Maybe that's bad, but that is why I can say I've not been betrayed.
Once when a youth had been betrayed and then he dumped the girl, another adult-leader said to me that the young man would need to lessen his standards and not be so hard. "Hard?" I said. "No, he's someone worth winning. Worth putting your heart and trust into. I know because I'm married to a man like that."
And I have parents like that. People who are who they say they are. No different at home than at church or work. And, yes, I know. I am blessed.
I hope my kids can say I'm the same at home as I am out in the world.
Now, that's a goal worth having.

Who Needs Friends?

2011-02-15T07:45:00.003-05:00

Maybe it's because we moved many hours away from family upon Mike's graduation. Maybe it's because I like to be prepared. Maybe it's because I watch people and have seen needs met in hard times. Maybe it's because Mama seemed to operate on the same principle. Whatever the reasons, surrounding ourselves with friends has always been high priority in our lives.
I actually think about who I'd call if we got one of those awful calls. When we left Jacksonville for Tampa in 1986, I talked to a good friend in Jacksonville and said, "If you were to hear anything bad happened to me or the baby, you must get to Tampa for Mike as soon as possible." Our friend promised he would.
We've kept many kids in emergency situations. Four one night and we had met the parents only once. But they had an emergency and I was there when it happened. Another time I was with a friend when the doctor said their baby needed to be admitted to the hospital. So her three older kids came to our house for several days. When their dad came to bring them some clothes it was our first time to meet him. Others would end up staying when their mom or dad would call and ask if they could walk home from school with my kids just for an hour or two - and then that would become a day or two.
And every time I thought, "One day I'll need this done for me." Yet we didn't. Our youngest is 20 and we never had to make special arrangements for the kids due to a crisis. But even now, I know who I'd call if I got awful news.
I have no illusions about getting through on my own. None.
Because I'm just not made that way - I want someone to lean on, count on, someone to be there when I need them. And it's not a morbid thing, or a worrisome thing. It's a comfort knowing who I'd call and knowing they'd drop whatever was going on in their lives at that moment.
Struggling on my own is not my way. Is it yours?

Do It Anyway

2011-02-11T09:21:00.003-05:00

Nike says, "Just do it." My motto is more like, "Do it anyway."
When I was asked a few weeks ago to help with confirmation at our new church, the answer "Yes" jumped out quickly because it had been sitting on the tip of my tongue for a while. It's been a couple years since I've done anything with youth and jr. high kids are who I like working with best and I love confirmation classes. Something had been telling me to get involved with confirmation and so when the question came, the answer was quick.
And then I started regretting it. Immediately.
The reasons were many and varied, as they usually are. But my motto stood firm - Do It Anyway. You see I know myself. And myself doesn't like to be uncomfortable, not in control, and/or not in a position of strength. This new situation contained all three and so my regrets grew, but I repeated over and over, "Do It Anyway."
Today we leave for the confirmation retreat and my regrets have not just been growing, they are being magnified. A whole weekend? A 6 hour bus ride? People I don't know? I'm not in charge? But, say it with me, "Do It Anyway."
And about thirty minutes ago it happened. My emotions got in line with my will. Joy came in as I looked again at the weekend's schedule. Regrets melted to a laughable pile of mush. Excitement took over and now I can't wait to get on that bus.
It's good to know how I feel is often a stupid thing to listen to. It would be nice if what God is telling me and how I feel always matched up, but that would mean I'm not human. And, Lord knows, I'm human. That's why he gave me such a simple motto.
Do It Anyway. Most days that's about all I can handle.

Given the Chance I'd___________

2011-02-09T09:12:00.005-05:00

Three years ago, this month, a tornado tore through our yard. Two huge pine trees were laid flat along our back fence line and for a long time the yard was a mess. Lots of exposed red Georgia clay, smashed bushes and broken limbs.
Now, however, the giant pines aren't even missed. New landscaping, repaired bushes, and even a bird bath thrive now in that part of the yard. And all is shaded by two maple trees.
Those maple trees are easily 30 feet tall, but at the time of the tornado they were barely there- thin, weak saplings hardly noticed in the shadow of the giant pine.
But the tornado changed all that and the two maples were given a chance. Given a chance to grow - and they took it.
Given a chance I'd ______ - what?
What would you do if you were "given a chance"?
And what does being given a chance look like? Hard to imagine those two scrawny maples thought that horrific wind and rain on that February morning was their chance. Yet it was.
Sometimes I think my chance comes along and I'm too distracted, or lazy, or worried to even realize it. I'm given the chance to _________, but I don't take it.
So, for today I'm going to fill in my blank and be ready so when my chance comes along - I'll see it and take it.
How about you? Feel like filling in a blank or two yourself?

Take Your Place in the Backdrop

2011-02-07T09:37:00.003-05:00

A childhood friend's father passed away last week. For several years I saw this dad often, but it's been at least 20 years since we were last together. Still he's there - part of the backdrop for my teenage years. Because, like it or not, that's the role parents play for teenagers. Even for our own teenagers we parents form the backdrop against which their lives are lived out. Then they move to college and their "real" lives, where they begin forming their own backdrops. Backdrops to which parents don't have admittance except in a re-occuring role that serves to pull things to one side or the other while we're there.
We each stand at center on our own stage - and those stages are only so big. Each of us has a backdrop full of folks we haven't dismissed from the stage and standing there behind us they help form our world. Our perceptions. Our images. Our backdrop.
When I look back to those teenage years, my friend's father stands there, slightly off stage, laughing. He was always laughing. He took joy in his son and his son's friends. Life was fun, and funny, to him. He loved his wife passionately and showed it.
A position in the backdrop may sound weak or useless but it provides the boundaries for the stage. Looking back, smiles and laughter outshine the sadness and anger of my teenage backdrops. Makes me think about the backdrops I stand in, and in front of, now.
How about you? What kind of backdrop people surround your stage?
What kind of backdrop person are you?

Old Dog - New Tricks

2011-02-03T09:14:00.000-05:00

So, this "self-contained" thing I mentioned in my last blog - I've been thinking about it. Before I mentioned it in my blog it was just a thing. You know, like a cloud hanging around in my head. There is something about me writing a thing down that makes it real and necessary to deal with. Being "self-contained" is all about being in the present, I think.
-About not living in the past with what someone said or did or what I said or did. Hashing and rehashing conversations, events, problems - something parents of teenagers do a lot of, whether vocally or in your head.
-About not living in the future with what could happen, should happen, might happen and then when it does happen how will we handle it? Again - consuming pastime for parents of teens.
My teens are now gone - so does that mean it's time to lay down some of those coping mechanisms that served me well? I believe so.
Besides, this place called "the present" appears an interesting place to live. Cause and effect seemed wrapped up in one package. My thoughts are much clearer without all those other conversations going on. There's less space occupied with coulda, shoulda, woulda and more with actual action. This is all good and that's wonderful to discover.
So, friends, what coping mechanisms are you holding onto that do not belong in your present? Aren't they getting a little cumbersome?

Nothing to Say

2011-02-01T08:13:00.002-05:00

Nothing to say. Can't quite figure that out. I seem to have nothing to say and I always have something to say.
On the blog page I see all those lists of blogs I've written. Looking more closely I remember writing each of them, remember the thoughts that swirled and needed, needed to be put down in black and white. Reading them I remember the delight as a clever line scrolled from my fingers or the "a-ha" when a thought came together finally on my computer screen. Looking at the comments, things others got from certain blogs sheds more light on my wonderings. So much to think. So much to say.
And then I find that I currently have nothing to say. The word that's been circling my mind for the past couple months has been "self-contained". And I'm not even sure what that means. But it seems to describe how I'm feeling. Self-contained. Very much inside myself. It's calm and restful and complete.
See? Nothing to say. If you figure it out - give me a holler~

Tryanny of All that's Possible

2011-01-24T08:44:00.000-05:00

This moment - right now at this moment I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. I don't know where it's leading or what's next but I'm listening and following - right now. And that really is all I CAN do. Sometimes I think we try and convince ourselves that if we do this, then that will happen. So we do things anticipating a certain outcome and completely miss the moment. Because this moment's not what's important - it's the outcome that is important, right?
But what if this moment IS the outcome? I’ll say that again – What if this moment IS the outcome?
What if everything I've done in the past was all to get me to THIS moment -where I am right now - who I will impact today?
How cool is that? The potential in every decision, every thought is electric to me.
I will not let the tyranny of a possible future, a possible outcome negate or water down this moment. This day.

I will not.

Bare Limbs.

2011-01-14T08:57:00.002-05:00

Something about home in the winter stirs me. Or rather - stills me.
There is no hiding under leafy branches or behind bounteous gardens. Flowers do not vie for attention and bright leaves are brown, fallen, gone. Like the trees, houses are stripped to the essentials. Windows reflect light back and look cold, unseeing. The only pots hold mounds of frozen pansies, huddled together in defeat waiting for a warmer day.
Inside the air is still until a rush of heat moves through, but the heater routinely kicks off and the stillness falls again. Sunlight caresses the dining room table, the kitchen floor, and my steaming coffee cup yet the caresses are chill.
The emotion, the hopes, the thrills of the holidays are gone, not even a left-over cookie remains. And yet I carry all of it forward with me. And now there is time to examine it. To sit beside a cold window and see more than the winter landscape. To see the past year. To see the coming year. To see.
Bare limbs. Bare houses. Bare soul.
Winter stills me--and I'm grateful.

Ever Feel Sorry for God?

2011-01-11T13:03:00.000-05:00

Don't you just love that first moment at night when you lay down in bed? Especially if it's been a long or hard day? You stretch and your muscles relax into the mattress and everything rests. That is one of my favorite feelings and often as I lay there, beginning to doze, I feel sorry for God.
Well, I don't feel exactly sorry for him, but I wonder how could he have created something so good, which he never experienced. I mean, God doesn't get tired, right?
God understanding the human body would need sleep--that makes sense. Like a person designing a car understands it will need constant fillings of gas to keep it running. But for God to create this cool thing called sleep and make it so appealing--well, that's just impressive to me.
And then I start thinking about maybe Jesus was debriefed when he returned to heaven. Did God say, "Alright, so how does it feel to be tired? or hungry?" Did he press for details on going to sleep and waking up? Wonder what flavors Jesus preferred? You know, salty or sweet? And did he explain how good fresh bread tastes and how it feels in an empty stomach? Or what being clean feels like when you've been sweaty and dirty? God doesn't get dirty, does he?
I know God knows all these things - but was Jesus being in a human body a way for our God to know us even better? I like to think so.
God is just cool, isn't he?

Church? Why?

2010-12-24T12:43:00.002-05:00

Church folks sometimes are thought of as believing themselves to be better than other folks. "Hypocrites", "two-faced", and (my fav) "too heavenly minded to be any earthy good" are some regularly thrown slurs.
But the people I know at church are for the most part there because we are no different from the people at work or school who never go to church. We know we are no different. We know we deal with jealousy, control issues, guilt, anger, implusiveness and on and on. We've found we tend to carry all our accomplishments AND failures around - just like everyone else.
But church folk have found that at church each week all the illusions and delusions of the week can be sloughed off. We go to be reminded we are not in control. We are reminded that the burdens we carried all week can't compare to the ones others carried. We go to bow our heads, lift our eyes and be renewed.
We don't go because we're better than other people - we go because we know we're not.

Regret Much?

2010-12-20T10:47:00.000-05:00

The writing below has hung on my fridge for many, many years. It changed my life and I found myself needing it this morning. I know my carpet is old (threadbare in places) and the furniture is very used and cat scratched and there is so often the temptation to let those things keep me from inviting people over. To worry about what people will think. That is why this list has changed my life - I've worked to not have these same regrets. And see, what people don't realize is it is WORK. It doesn't happen naturally, at least not for me. So, here's an early Christmas gift. Print it and put it on your refrigerator - see if it doesn't change your life, or at least this Christmas season.

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner." There would have been more "I love you's." More "I'm sorry's."
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it, live it and never give it back. Stop sweating the small stuff.
Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what.
Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

Backwards

2010-12-16T09:19:00.004-05:00

How can you not be happy this time of year - look at all the lights, decorations, food, gatherings, music, and everything that December brings? Often I talk about what things I don't want to miss in order to not have any regrets at an event, a season, a holiday. Sometimes those things I don't want to miss - lights placed on the railings, the tree just so, cranberry relish, a full house, reading An Irish Country Christmas just seem to MAKE my Christmas.
But that's a fallacy, one I apparently fall in to rather easily.
The power I give a set of $2.99 lights. The importance I affix to a chocolate covered treat. The growing control I bestow on the days of December as they march to the 25th. All of that is backwards.
You see all that Christmas stuff is meant to be the RESULT not the REASON.
God touched earth - and not by accident. His heart filled with love and he reached his hand to us and gave us hope. Gave us a way to him. Gave us a way out of the darkness. The knowledge that the darkness is not my home, not my only choice makes me want to sing, light candles, and celebrate. Yes, celebrate. You know, like at Christmas.
When I look at everything as being my reaction to God's gift, it shines even more brightly. Result, not the Reason. How about you? Where have you bestowed power unwisely this year?

Where Are You in the Movie?

2010-12-14T09:20:00.003-05:00

Contented is an normal description of me. Guilt about the past and worry about the future don't appeal to me, so I talk myself out of them before they get started good. My parents are pretty contented people, so it's not like I thought this all up myself.
But since coming home from Tennessee my contentment level is ratcheted up to a new high. The end of those five weeks of stress and uncertainty and unfamiliarity apparently pushed a reset button in me. Everything is good. No worries. Even when I try to get anxious or concerned about something, a smile creeps up and with one good sigh, I'm smiling like the Grinch with his triple-sized heart.
Christmas is less than two weeks away and I haven't done any shopping or cooking and I can't make myself get concerned about it.
Nothing is happening on the writing side of things, but I can't find the discouragement and frustration that used to pal around with me.
The angst that spurred my blog many mornings isn't showing up so I sit and smile at the computer screen and don't write one.
Lizzy and Mike were both sick last night. And while I kept the house quiet and went out to buy medicine, I did have the thought at one point that I should try to be a little less jolly.
This will, I'm sure, fade. Frustration, worry, anxiety will find it way back around. Blogs will contain deeper thoughts and smiling won't always be my favorite.
But for right now, it's where I am. Running down the snowy streets of Bedford Falls, whipping down a mountain with a sleigh full of toys and a happy dog, singing with the Peanuts gang by a little tree - you know - living at the end of a Christmas movie.
What part of the movie are you living at these days?

Bad Gift Giver Here

2010-12-10T17:05:00.003-05:00

I'm not a great gift giver. You know, the kind of gifts in boxes and bags with ribbons and such. There is this part of me that just wants to give money and let the person buy what they want. And yet I love when someone has found something that is just right for me. That burst of joy that says they know me and thought of me long enough to find this thing that will always remind me of them.
And it's not just that I can't think of what to buy, but I can't even think of what I want. At Christmas I love all the things surrounding the holiday and so many times thinking of gifts - to give or get - gets pushed way down on my list of things to think about.
Now before you say, "Oh, Kay, you are so unmaterialistic and focused on the true meaning of Christmas." ('cause I know you were going to say it). Don't. Gifts may not fill my head, but entertaining does. Opening my home whether for dinner, coffee, playing games, watching movies, talking, - really pretty much anything is my default when I think of fun or holidays. I'd so much rather have folks over than buy a gift.
But that's just me. And that's what I want to remember. Sometimes when I see someone very much into gifts I judge them as being too wrapped up (get it) in the wrong things. But I'm thinking I could be wrong. Why can't I just relax and enjoy each person without wondering why they aren't more like me? You know, right.
Merry Christmas (however you want to do it.)

Practice has Consequences

2010-12-06T07:44:00.002-05:00

It was one of my greatest gifts this past year. Lizzy, talking loudly to me from the kitchen said, "I'm turning into you."
My eyebrows did that downward thing they do when I'm trying to discern what I'm hearing. My, "What?" was quickly followed by my, "Why?"
Still with no discernable disgust in her voice she replied, "At the campsite this weekend me and the girls were in the little blow-up boat on the lake and I kept saying, 'It's just so beautiful' and every time I thought how I sounded like you."
So along with my inability to do math, apparently I passed along my ability to see beauty. (Honestly - math is soooo over-rated.) And I do believe it's an ability, a gift, an art, even a skill. And just like any ability or skill or gift, if it's not practiced it wanes.
On my extended stay up in Tennessee, where most days were partly spent in a medical facility, I noticed myself working on this gift. Seeking out floors with pretty views or cool architecture, paying extra attention on the drive to and fro, rearranging curtains at my folks house and lighting candles, purposefully driving by the lake or taking a little longer to look at the flowers in the gift shop. All in search of beauty.
Is seeing beauty something you have an aptitude for? Do you practice it? Or save it for when you have time and not so much on your mind? Do you only stumble across beauty - or do you go looking for it?
What are you practicing today? Whatever we practice, is what we become good at.

To-do List - Who's the Boss Here?

2010-12-02T15:38:00.001-05:00

How's that To-Do list looking? Tis the season, right? Being stressed and hurried jumps to a new level in December for a lot of us. Especially those with little kids and big expectations.
I realized years ago that the thing that stressed me out the most were those little things I wanted to do, but couldn't seem to make fit in before Dec. 25. Bake a special cookie, decorate the mail box, put up garlands on the front handrails, make a certain craft, and on and on. Those little things which add that finishing touch to the enjoyment of the season. However, until they were done they lurked there on the bottom of my To-Do list. Always there. And those years I didn't get around to them - I lamented that fact on Christmas Day, because then it was too late.
Now, I know I'm the only one who has ever done this - but just in case you're still reading - I fixed this problem.
I set earlier deadlines for those things. The things I just want to do. For example, if the railings don't have garlands by Dec. 15 - then they aren't being done. If that special cookie hasn't been made before the Sunday School party - then they aren't being made. Maybe it's just a way to spread out my stress, but it works for me. Because seriously - I do not want to even be thinking about these little things in the days leading up to Christmas.
Too often I let minor things steal my joy. They aren't unimportant - but they aren't worth as much as I make them out to be sometimes.
So today I'm spending a few moments with my To-Do list and putting it into perspective. After all, who's the boss here anyway?

It was an Accident, I swear.

2010-11-29T08:42:00.002-05:00

I went and got myself a new perspective!
It was an accident, of course.
Everything rests in our perspective of a situation, an event, a person, heck - everything. And yet isn't it funny that our perspective rarely changes due to our seeking to change it? Our perspective remains our perspective because, well duh, because it's right. Other folk's perspectives maybe based on faulty information, a skewed upbringing, or downright ignorance, but my perspective is only based on the truth. Yours too, right? So why would it need to be changed or tweaked?
And yet when, by accident, it does get changed or tweaked, we see the world through new eyes.
Best example? "It's a Wonderful Life." As Clarence the Angel says:
"You've been given a great gift, George: A chance to see what the world would be like without you."
Being gone from home for five weeks made coming home a perspective changing event. I've been given the gift of seeing my every day with fresh eyes. Normal appears magnificent. What was wearying a month and a half ago is cause for celebration. Where I searched for significance is now brimming over with possibility and joy. A coffee cup, a candle, a pillow all have been raised to icons of happiness.
Kind of like an old newel post that keeps coming off. (If you don't get this reference you haven't watched It's a Wonderful Life enough - so put it into your December plans.)
What do you think? Can our perspective be changed because we will it to be so? Or must it always be forced on us?
And an even better question - You up for a little tweaking today?

It's in Your Hands

2010-11-25T08:17:00.001-05:00

Here's to all the coffee brewers, onion chopping, turkey stuffing, cool whip thawers out there. You are the Stage Setters.
Things are quiet at my parents home this morning. Everyone is asleep - but me. I slept later than normal, but I knew I wanted to get this blog written and I just wanted to get up and get the day started. The early quite of a holiday morning belongs to moms and grandmoms, in my experience. The ones who went over the next day's menu right before going to bed and the ones who woke up with thoughts of what needed to be done when, so the next thing can be done. The turkey has to be stuffed before it can go in the oven and before the stuffing can be stuffed - cornbread has to be cooked, onions and celery chopped and sauteed, giblets boiled and chopped, eggs boiled and chopped. You can see where the mind racing upon waking comes in.
But in my life, those setting these scenes when I was to young to understand, did so lovingly and joyfully. Grandma and my aunt Cora Mae bustling in the kitchen as I snuggled deeper into my sleeping bag on their living room floor. Smells from Mama's kitchen waking me up and saying that this was a special day. Even the cooking of cornbread at midnight on Christmas eve so it would be ready the next morning. Hot cornbread at midnight? - some people just KNOW how to set a scene.
The day is set in the hands of the Scene Setters and it is ours to embrace and do prayerfully - or ours to treat as work and do grudgingly.
Once again - a choice. A choice on what I will do to make this day a gift for my family.
Got to go, I have onions and celery to chop!

Day Before

2010-11-24T08:39:00.000-05:00

Sing it with me - "Anticipation, anticipa-a-tion is making me wait." It's the Day Before the holiday and I love the Day Before. It doesn't feel like waiting to me, it feels exciting and intense and like Pure Possibility.
When I was growing up we went to my grandmothers every Thanksgiving. The fourteen hour trip began on Wednesday morning when we'd pile into our car with all our stuff, but without Daddy. He had to work half the day, but he'd get a ride into work so we had the car. (This was in the days when folks carpooled for the environment at home, instead of the world. See, with most families only having one car, if you carpooled then the wife had a car some days during the week and that truly enhanced the home environment.)
Anyway - with the car full and anticipation of the trip from Tennessee to the North Carolina coastal area at fever pitch we'd set off. Either that morning or the day before we would've stopped at our neighborhood store, Cherokee Market, and each of us three kids got one of those tiny little bags and got to choose a bit of candy. We never got to spend much and it had to last the whole trip, but this choosing of our own candy was huge. Our bag was carefully guarded and pawed through on the trip. We each cocooned in our space with our pillow, candy, and a few other items and Mama would drive off to Oak Ridge.
Daddy worked at the Union Carbide plants where the atomic bomb was built so we'd park outside the guard gate and sure enough, here he'd come - grinning ear to ear. He and Mama would switch places - and our trip would begin.
This was before interstate 40 was complete so the trip included driving over Saluda Mountain - which is one curvy, mountainous road - and totally exciting for us kids. We'd get to eat out on the way which was a big event for usbecause we never ate out -(and I'm talking McDonalds.)
The mountains would fall behind us and the Carolina countryside smoothed out into sandy fields which us kids would miss as we'd be sleeping, all piled against each other in the back seat - pillows and candy bags askew.
And then around two a.m. the turns and stops told us to wake up. We were off the highway and we were in Whiteville, North Carolina. Grandma's old house had a sand driveway and we'd pull into the light from the porch and windows, because Grandma and my aunt Cora Mae would be waiting for us. What a welcome to pile out of the car to in the small hours of the night. We'd stumble in and after a short visit us kids would be put to bed on the living room floor where the sounds of Grandma's cuckoo clock and the nearby trains would keep us awake - for just a bit.
So that's just one of my "Day Before" memories. See why possibility flows in my veins?
How do you feel about the "Day Before"? Full of possibility or full of angst?
It's a choice, you know.

Got Miracles?

2010-11-15T08:15:00.006-05:00

According to Albert Einstein “There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”

Have you noticed all the miracles masquerading as normal, ordinary people? Young men and women who sign up for military service. They train and plan to put themselves in harms way because they believe their country should continue to thrive.A man who left his career to follow God into ministry in his fifties. His wife who works by his side, through moves and pay cuts.

Friends that put their heartaches away to cheer good news from a friend. And even ask for more details.

Parents who move heaven and earth to support their children, only to be turned away in anger. And yet the parents never, never give up.Couples falling in love and striking out without a clue where they're going or where they'll end up.

A wife who carries her husbands heartache and struggle because it's too much for him alone.

Grandparents who hold Christmas a month early, because the grandkids are in town now.

Nurses who chat and visit and calm more nerves than medication.

Moms who cradle their children's concerns as if they were their own. Dads who go about their day, never letting on that their minds and hearts are miles away with their child.

Look around you today. Who are the miracles you live your life with? I'm knee-buckled, breath-taken away, tears running in awe at the miracles walking the days of my life.

Who's Shooting at Me?

2010-11-11T17:46:00.002-05:00

Sunset off my parents back deck today made me think I could just reach out and brush it all away. Like a chalk drawing done on black fabric. Trees, houses, hills all had blurred edges and a soft, chalky glow. It was one of those evenings when the sun takes the warmth with it behind the horizon and chill comes with the shadows. But my afternoon passed spending time with a book, a drink and letting peacefulness settle down in a peachy glow.
Except I kept thinking I was getting shot at.
I'd hear a crack from the back yard, where there are woods and such. Following the crack something would ping against the wall of their house where I was sitting. Kid with a pop gun? An angry squirrel? My admittance to the nut house? Finally after one of the sharp cracks I noticed a flurry of dried brown leaves swirling to the ground while everything else was still. The leaves fell from a huge wisteria my folks planted to shade a corner of their pool area. A couple repeats and, sure enough, something was happening in the wisteria. So I googled "wisteria popping sounds".
Did you know that when the seed pods get dry and then heated up (it was up to 73 here today) they will "explode"? Did you know they can shoot the seeds from the pod up to 70 feet away?
Yeah, me either. The deck and house is a good 30 feet from the wisteria and the seeds hit hard enough for me to hear them.
Daddy's brothers are here from North Carolina visiting with him this afternoon which is why I'm sitting on the deck being assaulted by wisteria seeds. A nurse took a picture of the three brothers and sent it to my cell phone. They sure look happy.
As I posted on my facebook status one day last week, "I am one of the most blessed people to have ever walked this planet and my biggest blessing is that I know it."
Today I've been blessed by exploding seed pods and visiting uncles. You know, blessings that go unnoticed are just sad.
Don't you agree?

"I Yam what I Yam."

2010-11-10T08:37:00.008-05:00

"I yam what I yam." Who said it?
Popeye, that's right. That one eyed, ridiculously muscled, pipe smoking, Olive Oyl devotee. Of course he was a cartoon, but maybe just the fact that Popeye said this line quite often might point to Reoccurring Identity Frustration. And seriously, who hasn't felt that?
Who am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to do? What are my gifts? My talents?
What do I want to be when I grow up?
Mama tells me of my despair in high school when I came home reporting that one of my friends knew exactly what she was going to do with her life. She was going to be a doctor and I didn't have the first clue. Mama reminding me of that, and how things worked in both my life and my friend's, helped me with my kids conundrums of choosing a major in college. and then another one. and then another one. and then--well, you get the picture.
Being away from home these past couple weeks while my dad had brain surgery has been tiring, scary, lonely, and just plain old strange. And with defenses down doubt comes creeping around. What an amazing blessing to be able to drop everything and come stay here. But it's also disconcerting to be able to do that and realize not one thing suffered. Seriously - if I am (as I've come to believe) the center of the universe - shouldn't my absence be noted?
Whose idea was it to be a writer? Being unpublished means I have nothing to show for what I do. Nothing to miss, no deadlines to push back, nobody waiting on the next book. Write or Don't write - nobody knows. But Popeye, and God, reminded me this morning. I yam what I yam. Loving words and wanting to write wasn't my idea. I can lament the shortcomings or I can embrace the privileges.
This morning I'm choosing embracing. How are you at embracing what you are?
And heres Popeye's song - And I yam what I yam and I yam what I yam that I yam / And I gotta lotta muscle and I only gots one eye / And I never hurts nobody and I'll never tell a lie / Top to me bottom and bottom to me top / That's the way it is 'til the day that I drop, what am I / I yam what I yam

A Whistling Garbage Man

2010-10-20T13:40:00.001-04:00

Our garbage man picked up our can this morning near my open window. His gait was loose and easy and—he was whistling. Got me to thinking.

Is peace something we attain, or is it granted? Or is there a certain state which must be attained before peace is possible? Peace in the midst of chaos? Peace in the middle of anxiety? Peace while collecting garbage? One passage in the Bible says God's peace "transcends understanding". That sounds like my garbage man.

Maybe you’ve heard the saying, "If you are able to keep your head while all others are loosing theirs . . . you must not understand the situation." Is that the secret to peace - Ignorance? Is my garbage man ignorant of the smell, his tiredness, his status in others eyes?

Does more awareness or knowledge have to bring more anxiety? I believe we often attribute weighty thinking to weighty countenances. And happy, content folks are labeled "naive" or "polly-annish." Surely my garbage man can’t truly understand his situation. Right?
Peace for me comes from knowing God is crazy about me and he has a plan. Peace for me comes from the knowledge that God is big enough to take my griping and whining. Peace for me means doing today, what I'm supposed to do today. When I try to control and manipulate yesterday and tomorrow - I'm way out of my league.

Sounds like some things my garbage man might already know.

That's Just Not Possible

2010-10-18T09:23:00.002-04:00

Mike and I left this morning when it was still dark. Pitch dark. He'll catch a train later today for the airport, so he needed a ride to work. Did I say it was dark? Headed into the city we watched the sky turn purple, then grayish blue, then the colors arrived. Pink, peach, orange, yellow and some deep rose encased in fog across the Chattahoochee. The lights of downtown could still be seen in the early morning dimness when I dropped him off at his office. Back up near home, I crested a hill and the sun in all it's glory peeped over the trees and turned the highway golden. Lights faded to unnecessary as the sky settled to solid blue. Night was completely over.
The sun, the one sun, the one I saw right here in Marietta performed this same miracle today also in Chattanooga; and Boston; and Montreal; and Lima, Peru. All pretty much at the same time. Right now the same sun is encoring this amazing feat over Calgary and El Paso.
And I don't think that's possible. Nope. Just not possible. Think about it for a few minutes and I'm sure you'll agree. And yet it's fact. Just like it's a fact that all those apple trees I saw covering acres of North Georgia on Saturday came from a tiny seed. Yet, that's not really possible either. Right?
So many folks say they find it hard to believe in God because they can't see him. Well, that doesn't seem to be a stumbling block for me. I'm stuck on the things right in front of my very eyes that can't be true. But then maybe the only path I can find toward believing the sun's power and the potential of an apple seed starts in my belief in God.
I do remember reading somewhere he makes "all things possible". Okay, that I can believe.

Invitation at Kroger

2010-10-14T16:48:00.000-04:00

Walking out of Kroger this afternoon an invitation was issued to me. Back in July the dozen or so crepe myrtles were bouquets of pink blossoms. Lush, yet stately and formal with nary a droop even in the heat. True Southern ladies, I suppose. Today they were bobbing heads of cranberry-colored leaves bobbing and nodding in the wind. Come play! Come see!

On windy days I walked home from Cherokee Elementary the back way. Across the blacktop, into the little valley, past the swings and seesaw, and up the hill. Climbing the gentle slope, I reached the crest and the open land between back yards and the tree line. The grass there was only cut a few times during the summer so it was long and plush. Open, high land let the wind push back and forth with abandon. The grass undulated like a green ocean and the tree line danced as if putting on a show for God. A show which enthralled and lifted my soul. The wind rushed by me and around me and through me.

Is it the idea of things moving without a visible reason that makes me associate the wind with God? The power. The quiet. The roar. The whisper. I'm not sure, but I know a breezy day speaks to me and reminds me to look up - to watch clouds rushing, trees bending, birds soaring. I can't resist stepping into the wind and opening my heart and senses.

Do you think God might use the trees, the rushing clouds, the swaying grasses, and those falling leaves to invite us to come play with him? To come talk with him? To come just be with him? Seriously – do you think God would be inside on a day like today?

That Kid is a Handful!

2010-10-13T09:21:00.003-04:00

It's Happening . . . it took her a little longer than the boys, but no doubt about it, It's Happening.
Lizzy and some friends went camping over fall break due to Lizzy's pushing and planning. She made the reservations, gathered supplies, printed maps. Much of the equipment came from our garage so she was the "expert" at using it. We'd camped many times at the park they were at, even in the same spot so again, she was the "expert". And through it all - I managed to stay out of it.
Strange how our kids can be so different, isn't it? Only in the past year have I fully appreciated how the boys met my pulling with resistance, each time a little stronger until I could move out of their way completely. It was a push and pull kind of maturing until their push became strong enough for them to be on their own. This didn't work with Lizzy. I'd pull and she'd give in. So I'd pull more and she'd give in. Not really unhappily, she is very easy going. But it was very frustrating that she didn't push back. I do like getting my own way, but I knew it wasn't helping her mature.
What I finally have realized is that if I'm involved, she will not step up. So, I have learned to push her and then walk away. She's a child that I can not help as much as she wants me to (or as much I am able) - for her own good.
So how does the push and pull go between me and God? Am I maturing due to the push and pull or am I settling - not meeting God's actions with action? When he tries to teach me something do I whine and pity myself and miss the point? Do I forget he's not finished with me yet? Can I accept that when I think he's not interested, he just may be helping me grow up?
Thank goodness God is a parent who never messes things up and knows me better than I know myself, cause sometimes I can be a handful!

Overdue

2010-10-07T09:50:00.003-04:00

Robert was two weeks overdue. Ryan was not only overdue, but when we finally went in on a Friday to be induced, the maternity ward was overflowing and they told us to come back on Monday. Lizzy, being our good child, came on time.
With both Robert and Ryan there came a point in the overdue time that we decided we probably weren't having a baby. Before the due date, every day was met with "this could be the day!" When the due date passed by without a whimper, we began to ignore all those rules we'd so carefully followed. We took day trips well over an hour from the hospital. We didn't worry about taking that stupid overnight bag with us everywhere because it just wasn't going to happen.
That's kind of how I'm feeling now. My agent has had my manuscript out to publishers for months now. No one's turned it down, but no one has said "Yes." For a while there was such a feeling of expectancy. Every morning was met with, "this could be the day!" Now? Not so much.
When I was good and overdue with Robert we sat behind these two little old ladies at church one night. They cheerfully asked when I was due. When they found out the expiration date was long gone, they got so flustered. They sat on pins and needles through the service, just knowing that at any minute they were going to have to deliver a baby. Mike and I giggled at their nervousness thinking, "Silly ladies, we're never having this baby."
Folks around me now talk about reading the book when it comes out and I just think, "Silly people, its never going to be published."
Overdue is a weird place to live.

Feel Sorry for your Kids? Don't!

2010-10-06T15:16:00.002-04:00

Mama told me one time - "Feeling sorry for your kid is the worse thing you can do to them." We were discussing some parents giving too much to a child because the parent felt bad for something the child didn't get or couldn't have or just because the parents felt guilty for whatever.
In this day, when too many children are treated like idols, people acting fairly irrational while providing "necessities" for their offspring is common.
Whether it's goodie bags at birthday parties, expensive sport camps/equipment/training, or THE college - can't you see our grandparents with eyes popping, shaking their heads, and lamenting what we're doing to their progeny?
I'm not saying it's not hard - but sometimes we just need some perspective. When Lizzy was looking at colleges, she wanted, badly, to go out of state. Now, this wasn't a possibility and finding that out wasn't a shock as we'd said it from the very beginning. But still, if all her friends could have that then . . . and teenage girls have no equal in making you feel like scum when they're unhappy.
So here's what I did. I did some research and found that the difference between the cheapest out of state school and what we would pay at an instate school would be $53,000 over four years.
I told her that and asked, "If I handed you $53,000 in cash right now, would you spend it to go to school out of state? She didn't even have to think. She said, "No." My response? "Neither would I."
Did it turn her into Little Mary Sunshine? Did she tearfully thank me for opening her eyes? Yeah, right. What it did was establish the foundation we were standing on. It established our starting point and that the life she was planning - was her life. Not a gift from me and her daddy.

Wisdom from Ferris

2010-10-04T09:11:00.002-04:00

Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. ---Ferris Bueller

The sun coming up through the Bradford Pear trees in my back yard is at the same position as when I took a picture of it in the spring. That morning, also cool, the trees were covered in white blossoms and the sun's rays pierced through in clear, yellow-white light. It was Spring in a picture.
Now the sun's rays are golden and the tree is covered in dark green, headed to burgundy, leaves. The morning is almost cold, especially for Georgia. We got down into the 40's last night.
Seems like I took the blossom picture only a few days ago.
That's what made the quote from Ferris Bueller come to mind.
Summer 2010 has come and gone. I don't think I have any regrets. Those things I wanted to do, I did. Big happenings came, were celebrated, and exist now in pictures and memories. Connections were strengthened, dreams solidified, pains appreciated and dealt with. The hard talks, the fun times, the days in the pool, the visits, the dinners on the deck.
When I think of not missing life, I often think of the fun, exciting things. But I'm coming to realize that a big part of not missing life is to not overlook the hard times, the lessons that truly make a difference. To not get through just surviving, but to really see what, or who, the problem is--even if it's myself. But sometimes that's hard - and not at all fun.
Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

September

2010-09-29T10:12:00.002-04:00

As September wears down here's a poem my dad remembers learning in school. It was written by Helen Hunt Jackson who lived from 1830-1885. How wonderful that September hasn't changed in all that time. Enjoy reading a poem over a hundred years old this morning.

THE golden-rod is yellow;; The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards: With fruit are bearing down.
The gentian's bluest fringes: Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed: Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest,: In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side: Make asters in the brook.
From dewey lanes at morning: The grapes' sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter: With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens: September days are here,
With summer's best of weather,: And autumn's best of cheer.
But none of all this beauty: Which floods the earth and air
Is unto me the secret: Which makes September fair.
'T is a thing which I remember;: To name it thrills me yet:
One day of one September: I never can forget.

Notice the last two couplets (or whatever they're called) change the tone of the poem. Many places on the internet they are left out completely. Doesn't it make you wonder what happened on that "One day of one September"?

Disturbing Sells

2010-09-28T08:02:00.003-04:00

"Disturbing" sells today. In movies, TV, and - my area of interest - books. Problem is - I don't really care to disturb. I keep thinking maybe I should want to disturb, but then I just keep thinking. And thinking.
And I figured out that what I want to do is have a person say, "Yes, that's right. That is right!" when they read my writing. I don't want to reach down and touch those parts of our psyche that we usually keep hidden. That probably needs to be done at times and I've found myself at times drawn to books or shows that do that. What I want to reach in a reader is the part that isn't hidden because it might embarrass us, but because it's so simple it gets pushed to the back of our mind.
Like a book from childhood you see in a secondhand book store that causes you to smile. You pick it up and run your hand across the cover and then with love you reverently open the pages. Or the way you breath deep when you smell cookies or daffodils or rain. The way our nose crinkles and our eyes squint as we grin watching puppies play. How our shoulders relax when we step out into spring sunshine. The way our eyes fill with tears when we hear the Star Spangled Banner at a ballgame.
Those are the places I want to take a reader. And if that doesn't sell, then it doesn't sell.
But it should.

Willing to Fail?

2010-09-27T10:48:00.002-04:00

Willingness. Just plain old being willing has been overlooked by me, I think.
A couple weeks ago I was freaking out about taking on publicity for the women's retreat at our church. It's a large church and my freak out was spurred by the realization that there were probably a couple hundred folks in the church who did publicity for a living and might actually know how to do this job I'd just said I'd do. However, when I expressed this to folks I was told, "Yeah, but they didn't come forward to do it." In other words, they weren't willing. I received many kudos for being willing and as I've muddled my way through the job it's awesome how folks step up to help you if you just display your willingness.
Willingness to learn, to look stupid, to take instruction, to fail. There you go. Willingness to fail.
Willingness to fail - and all that goes with failure. Because being willing to step out and try new things has to include the possibility of failure.
Personally, I think we have to take a stick and knock some of the stuffing out of that monster called "Failure". Yet, the only way to do that is to experience it. To get up close to it, smell it's breath, feel it's slimy skin, hear it's deafening roar - and then watch it fade away in our rearview mirror. Because failure is just a moment in time and it will fade away.
So, how familiar are you with failure? Is it too scary to even think about? Or do you toast it as it goes by because it means you were willing?

Are You Expecting?

2010-09-24T09:23:00.002-04:00

Expecting can be messy. Not specifically that kind of expecting. Expectations of those around me; my children, my spouse, my friends. Expectations of events. Expectations of myself. And even expectations of God. All can get kind of messy.
But then, expecting also makes life easier. By expecting what others will do or what will happen I don't really have to think about it. But then, isn't that what sometimes causes the mess?
I've always had the thought that if I don't expect too much then I can't be disappointed. The trick in that is to not become cynical or get cheated. One must begin with lofty enough expectations that allow for everything to come together and allow excellence, yet be ready to accept less. You think that sentence was confusing? Try living it.
How do we expect great things from our loved ones and ourselves and yet not constantly be frustrated when those expectations are not met? Not met due to the persons lack of expectations in that direction or just plain old failure.
How do we expect great things from God and then not feel disappointed in the great Creator of the Universe when our expectations aren't met?
Yet in my experience to never expect is not only impossible, but it doesn't make for much happiness.
And then I'm left with this thing I believe to the core of my being: I trust in a God who has no limitations, no lack of creativity, believes in and loves human beings completely, and encourages me to expect, have faith, dream and live this gift of a life as passionately as possible.
He tells me he can handle my disappointments, cause he can turn them into gold.

Name that Forest

2010-09-23T10:33:00.002-04:00

This has been one of those weeks where I just don't look too far ahead or wander out of my little box much. Monday was spent in airports getting home from Wisconsin and tomorrow I head off on a one night retreat in the mountains. I'm the speaker for the retreat so my head has been stuck in my computer every day. I'm also doing the publicity for my own church's Spring Retreat and things are due this week. Again - more computer time.
But my head keeps popping up for glimpses of next week. Next week when normalcy returns. When I can put up the fall decorations and get back to writing on the third Chancey book. When the little household duties like vacuuming, cleaning the refrigerator, and dusting all actually hold some appeal. Yes, appeal.
To a point, for me making a home has been about making it for my family. But this time alone is stirring in me the knowledge that the home is also for me. The little touches and comforts and organization ideas might've felt good for my kids and Mike, but they started from my own desires.
It's like not seeing the trees for the forest. Being alone is causing me to take a new look at the individual trees that make up my forest.
A forest called, "My Life."

Weakness = Strengths?

2010-09-22T10:39:00.001-04:00

There's a thought going round that we focus too much on our weaknesses, which takes time and energy away from furthering our strengths. I understand the point, but I don't agree. More to my way of thinking is the belief that one's greatest weakness is also their greatest strength. In my story, which was published in the compilation book, Heart of Mother, I write of how Mama knew me and my brothers and told us about ourselves. Through playing cards, she pointed out my desire to win fast. You can read that story by clicking here http://kayshostak.blogspot.com/2009/09/addendum-for-todays-blog-heart-of.html
My three kids have weaknesses- (sorry for the sudden shock). One hates making decisions, one is an instant expert, and one has never met a good change. But those are also their strengths. Not making decisions quickly means all sides are examined and many options usually come to light. Being an instant expert, means being confident and ready to lead. Disliking change makes that one laid back, easy going and comfortable to be around. Who better than parents to tell their kids who they are - good and bad.
Me being aware of my desire to win fast had helped me know myself. The strength in that flaw? I'm a mover. When something is wrong or messed up, I gotta get involved. Often I've lamented that I hate to find a problem, because I can't rest until it's fixed.
So knowing our strenths AND weaknesses makes for better knowing ourselves. I heard this thought one time and liked it so much it still hangs on my refrigerator door.
"Walk in your strengths, manage your weaknesses."

Tickled at Milwaukee Airport

2010-09-21T09:55:00.004-04:00

You know those times you look ahead on your calendar and even from a distance you can see a period which will be discombobulating? That's how August and the first half of September has been looking to me since early summer.
Move Lizzy from the house into her apartment at college, Mike getting settled in Milwaukee and getting used to him coming and going, a week in Tennessee, trip to Orlando, then a week at the Beach, followed by this past weekend's trip to Milwaukee. All of that is why a sign at the Milwaukee Airport tickled me.
Going through security yesterday morning I grabbed my shoes and purse out of the gray bin and turned to see the tables meant for putting everything back together. Above the tables was a sign saying, "Recombobulation Area".
Isn't that great? Most of you know that "Discombobulation" is one of my favorite words - now I have it's cousin - Recombobulation.
So, I made it thru August and Mid-September and now it's time for some recombobulating. Are you good at recombobulating? Putting everything back together? Regaining a routine? I'm thinking I'm better at the dis- than the re-. With recombobulating, I just want it to happen. There's not the deadlines - that hurtling towards discombobulating events which require action on my part. I'm good at that.
However, at this point - I'm tired and things are unfocused and just lying there waiting for someone to do something - like the stack of mail, the empty cupboards, the dust. And, as they would say in Hollywood, what's my motivation?
So here I am in the Recombobulation Area and I'm not feeling it.
About the only thing I'm interested in catching up on are my shows on the DVR, but you know - I gotta start somewhere. . .

Settling for Good Enough?

2010-09-16T09:52:00.004-04:00

"Do your best", "put your best foot forward", "don't settle" are things I've heard - and said. Yet have you ever thought about this? If there is anything left to learn then your current effort can not be the "best".
You must "settle" at some point. At some point the manuscript has to be sent in, the resume mailed, the send button pushed. But to settle doesn't set well with what the world says.
"You can never be too skinny or too rich." And so we have anorexia and Bernie Madoff. Getting a 4.0 isn't good enough - weight those grades. And then there is giving 110%.
But what if for one day - I just did what I already know. If I didn't worry about also learning to knit, but just enjoyed crocheting? If I didn't look for a new recipe, but made something familiar? If I treated folks the way I know to treat them and didn't worry about what "more" I could do?
This train of thought came because of a Bible verse I found today, which I'd never noticed before.
"Only let us live up to what we have already attained." (Phillipians 3:16)
Now I know the Bible points to being "people of excellence" and "striving", but this little, non-heralded verse grabbed me this morning. It speaks of contentment and of the truth that most of us know what we need to know - we just need to do it.
And sometimes that's the bigger problem.

Lengthening Shadows

2010-09-14T08:40:00.002-04:00

Sitting in my rocking chair looking out the front windows, I notice the maple across the street is beginning to turn. Before long it will be orangy-yellow. The tall walnut beside our house will be pure gold, towering over our roof. A jewel-toned tapestry is what the oak will remind me of and the half dozen crepe myrtles will turn peachy-red. And then every single leaf will fall to the ground. Every one. Hard to imagine.
When we lived in Jacksonville, Florida folks took their vacations in the fall to go to Tennessee and "see the leaves turn". Since I'd grown up in Tennessee, I thought that was funny. Until I spent a couple falls in Florida. Then I found myself seeking out roads lined with sumac - basically a spindly weed, but which turns scarlet red in the fall. That was the height of my autumnal glory for a few years.
I love summer, but when the leaves begin to look tired and the flowers struggle to appear happy, I'm ready for everything to have a rest. For the trees to go out in a blaze of glory. For the zinnas and begonias to be put out of their leggy misery. For the sky to deepen to match the deep blue of September's birth stone. All signs it is time to say goodbye to summer.
Sometimes in the early darkening of the afternoons, I remember those days when I gathered my little ones inside as the leaves fell. Remember the laughter and red cheeks around the table, eager to share supper with mom and dad, brother and sister. Tales of their days at school or play winding down in cozy beds sheltered from brisk winds.
Lengthening shadows seem to lengthen my memories.

"NO" is a Baaaad word. Really?

2010-09-10T08:46:00.003-04:00

It’s so much easier to tell my kids “no”, when “yes” isn’t a possibility. Being responsible and not giving them too much is being a good parent. It’s just easier if there’s no way I can give them too much. When we lived in Illinois, we lived out in the country because we didn’t expect the huge difference in cost of housing between central Florida and Chicagoland. It was a wonderful setting, a couple acres in a hundred-year-old farm house. But even that cost a lot and being so far out in the country meant you didn’t go shopping until you had to. And eating out? We just didn’t do it. Mike and I were raised in modest households so we really didn’t think much about it.
When we moved to Georgia we found another wonderful place to live – but it was a culture shock. Little House on the Prairie to Beverly Hills 90210. Kids working on family farms and doing chores versus kids having computers in their rooms and getting new cars for their birthday. Learning that eating out isn’t a treat, but a way of life.
It’s easy for me to say those wealthy folks on TV - or around the corner - shouldn’t give their kids so much, but it’s harder for me to do. If I have it, or can get it, I want my children to have it. But when is too much, literally, too much? It takes backbone and clear thinking to deny my kids.
But wait, parenting isn’t about raising kids. I’m in the business of raising adults.
Okay – got it.

Trains and Alligators

2010-09-09T08:18:00.002-04:00

So the conference in Orlando wrapped up last week and we headed up the coast to St. Augustine Beach for a week of vacation. We took some back roads, found a manatee watching spot on a sand road between the ocean and the inter-coastal waters - no manatee though. Found out you can't just drive through Cape Canaveral, but eventually made it to the condo. Spent a week with our toes in the sand and face to the wind & sun. Then yesterday headed up through South Georgia in search of trains and thus found ourselves at The Folkston Funnel.
That's where all the trains headed into the state of Florida come down to just two tracks and folks come from near and far to watch them pass. You think I'm joking - we stopped by to sit on the specially made platform alongside the tracks which is outfitted with wireless and a train radio so those on the platform can hear all the communication between the trains coming and the dispatchers. We met a gentleman on his way to a Florida vacation from Scranton, Pa. It was noon and he'd been there since early morning. He was headed off to find some lunch when another young man sitting there told us it was going to be a busy lunch hour. His computer program told him we had trains coming from both directions. "Looks like we're going to get a meet," he foretold. A "meet" is when trains meet and you get to see both at one time - but you'd figured that out, hadn't you?
Well, that let out going to get lunch. We took lots of pictures and met some nice folks. We eventually did make it to the McDonalds drive-thru and then ate our cheeseburgers back out at the track. Mike still hasn't quit grinning.
Folkston, Ga is also the "Gateway to the Okefenokee Swamp" and you can tell they have a hard time in their museum choosing trains or alligators for their tee shirts, videos, and logos.
Trains and Alligators all in one little Georgia town. Ain't this a great country?

Found a Typo in the Bible - who do I see about this?

2010-09-03T10:54:00.003-04:00

I found a typo in the Bible and it carried over into that well-known song by the Byrds.
Here it is in Ecclesiastes 3:1
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
Do you see it? A time, A season. That's just not right. So, wonder who I need to see about getting this fixed. I'll be getting a petition up on facebook right away, so stay tuned.
Okay, okay - I know it's not a typo. It's not even wrong, but doing some thinking brought to mind that we may need to rethink that "A".
We have gardenia bushes in our yard and everyone knows gardenias bloom in early summer. Hence all the June weddings they've appeared in for decades. However, ours also has another blooming period at the end of summer. Of course, the second blooming is smaller, shorter-lived, not near as showy and really can't be counted on. You wouldn't plan your wedding flowers on it. And besides, who would carry gardenias in an August wedding? It's just not the right season.
See -THE right season. But what if there is more than A season? A time? What if we bloom more than once? What if we try to love the second (or third, or fourth) blooming as much as that first showy one?
If someone who had never seen or smelled a gardenia came into our backyard in August and picked that creamy, multi-petaled flower and then smelled that amazing sweetness - they would be enthralled. They'd have no clue it wasn't the first bloom, the big bloom, the meant-to-be bloom.
Now, can I remember that as I begin my 49th year? Can I not fall into the worlds trap of "it's all downhill from here?" Can I enjoy and celebrate blooming now as much as when I was 25?
Besides - Wouldn't "A time for everything" include all the blooming I can do?

Thinking versus Worrying

2010-09-02T09:46:00.002-04:00

From behind low clouds the sun breaks through and swaying sea oats are touched with gold. Stronger than usual waves jump and leap due to a faraway storm and spray reaches higher and higher in the early morning sky. Playing on the raucous waves, sunshine rides and falls and offers itself back to its source.
I find the ocean mesmerizing, but then I find a mountain stream mesmerizing, ditto for a lake; fall leaves moving in a breeze; a pasture buzzing with insects and summer sun; black bark in stark relief against winter snow; or my own backyard. I’m just one of those folks that likes to sit and stare. It’s a gift, I tell you!
Recently I joked with a friend that I have a great ability to do nothing. She, a very busy and accomplished person, said, “Yes, you do and I want to be able to do that.” I laughed, but she didn’t.
Could it really be a gift to be able to sit and enjoy my surroundings? It feels like a gift very often. Like God creates tableaus, sets scenes in place purely for my enjoyment. But what about the days I don’t appreciate the flowers lining the sidewalk or the clouds formations above or the way the rain refreshes our tired lawn? Does God lament all the trouble he went to that no one noticed? Does God look for folks that will sit and stare at his creations?
This trip I've had some difficulty letting go and just sitting and staring without worrying on something. Sitting and staring and thinking is totally different than worrying. When I'm thinking my surroundings add fuel, inspiration, impetus. When I worry, my surroundings fade to distraction. But each wave, each leap of spray, each swaying sea oat is in collusion with God to make me let go of any worries, fears, and doubts.
God sure does go to a lot of trouble to get my attention, doesn't he?

Trip Around the Sun

2010-08-27T08:27:00.002-04:00

Jimmy Buffett sings a song about birthdays titled "Trip Around the Sun". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3gV-Y8jnjQ
This latest trip around the sun for me has been an eventful one. Matter of fact it's only been recently that I tried to think about it all at one time.
Since last August:
Youngest left for college
Both sons got engaged
I was signed by a literary agent
Daddy fell and had knee surgery
We joined a new church
Robert and Carrie got married
Lizzy transferred colleges
Mike's dad passed away
Robert and Carrie graduated grad school
Ryan moved to LaGrange
Robert and Carrie moved to Atlanta
Ryan and Casey got married
Ryan graduated college
Mike took on project in Wisconsin
All in all, it's been a wonderful year of living. Now, lets go do another one!

Trip Around the Sun - Lyrics
Hear 'em singing Happy Birthday
Better think about the wish I made
This year gone by ain't been a piece of cake
Every day's a revolution
Pull it together and it comes undone
Just one more candle and a trip around the sun

Chorus:
I'm just hanging on while this old world keeps spinning
And it's good to know it's out of my control
If there's one thing that I've learned from all this living
Is that it wouldn't change a thing if I let go

No, you never see it coming
Always wind up wondering where it went
Only time will tell if it was time well spent
It's another revelation
Celebrating what I should have done
With these souvenirs of my trip around the sun

Yes, I'll make a resolution
That I'll never make another one
Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun
Just enjoy this ride ...
Until it's done

Asking a Favor for my Birthday . . .

2010-08-26T09:58:00.002-04:00

My birthday is tomorrow and I'll be 49. As I used to say to the kids in the youth group when they'd ask how old I am, "Don't you hope you look this good when you're this old?" They would slowly nod their head, "Yes". Of course they were thinking, "I hope I'm able to walk when I'm THAT old."
Anyway - I have a Birthday Favor to ask:
In the year and a bit that I've done this blog many of you have left comments telling me that you've enjoyed it.
My agent has requested that we ask those who have read our writing or heard us speak to please go to our authors page on the agency website and leave a quick comment. Potential publishers check things like that out and right now mine says "no comments yet".
You just go to tribelit.com and at the top of the page you'll see buttons, one of which is "our authors" click there and you'll see my name in the list, click it and my face will pop up (don't let it scare you). And at the bottom is a place to leave comments. Even something as simple as "I've enjoyed Kay's blogs and look forward to her book." "Kay is able to get her thoughts across when she speaks and she doesn't dress too funny." Or for those of you who've read my book something like, "I've read Next Stop, Chancey and know it will be an amazing blockbuster when it's in print and make any publisher a bazzillionaire.
Or maybe not on that last one.
Thanks much for your help!

Presto Pesto!

2010-08-24T09:44:00.002-04:00

On Saturday night I enjoyed pesto and pasta at Rob and Sherry's home. We had delicious Chicken Picatta and sauteed summer vegetables. They inspired me, so I relieved my basil plant on the deck of most it's leaves and made pesto yesterday - and then I mentioned on facebook I was looking for ways to use it.

And the floodgates opened. Well, two floodgates. My friend Joni from Illinois and my brother Linney from Tennessee made several comments each.

And I decided all their inspiring words needed to be shared because this is something I want to incorporate into this new life of mine. For so many years I've cooked for volume and filling stomachs cheaply. The dinner table seemed to expand at will and the diners were not picky. I'm really good at that kind of cooking, but it's just not that called for at the Shostak house these days. It's kind of hard to put that to the side. Nothing more satisfying than making pancakes for a dozen teenage boys, macaroni and cheese from scratch for college kids, or a chocolate cake for a bunch of chocoholic girls. But Rob and Sherry and Joni and Linney have inspired me! So - hope this blog inspired you too!

From Joni - We became kind of famous at Olivet (university) for Paninis. We put out all the ingredients and this is what they made with them. We got the multigrain Le Brea bread and sliced it on the diagonal. They put the pesto on the inside with ham, pepperjack che...ese, roasted red peppers, and arugula. I made a compound butter: 2/3 butter, 1/3 olive oil, garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, parmesan and romano cheese, and a bit of salt because I use unsalted butter. They put that on the outside and grilled it in the panini press. All the guys that ate here put panini presses on their wedding lists!

A dollop in homemade minestrone or other suitable soup is good, too. On bruschetta (grilled bread) with other toppings, like "fresh" mozzarella and tomatoes. Traditional to toss with pasta, but I don't "love" that. Think i'm going to try it again with just a little and then more parmigiano reggiano to taste. One more--can put a little on chicken or fish as a sauce or put some under chicken skin and roast. Think of it as a spice blend...

Oops, one more. Can use it to season sauces, especially homemade maranara. Along the same lines if you're making a pan sauce can add a little to whatever you're deglazing the pan with--wine or stock.

Yeah, I'm back. Thought of a couple of new things I'm going to try. Larry makes a tuna salad during the summer with fresh dill and basil. Delicious. I'm thinking some pesto might make a great winter one. Would work for chicken salad, too, of course. And I think it would be delicious in tuna casserole. Especially if you made your own bechamel sauce.

AND - I'm excited about this one, although I don't know how well it will work! Put pesto on raw chicken breasts. Could let it marinate for a while. Then bread it. I'm thinking dredge in seasoned flour, egg, flour again and pan fry 'til crsip. Know I'm going to try it with zucchini, too. Pork chops and basil? Not sure.
Another thing I'm going to try this year is make some kind of pesto like thing that has parsely, sage, rosemary and thyme in it. I freeze my pesto and it would be interesting to see if this could work for saving those herbs, too. I dry them now, but a "poultry seasoning" pesto might be fun.

From Linney: A couple of notes here, you don't have to use pine nuts to make pesto. Pine nuts sell for around $40 a pound! You can use peanuts! I made it last week and used mixed nuts and it turned out great. I've read that cashews or almonds make really good pesto too!

On a cold fall or winter day take a artisan loaf of bread, something like sour dough or french bread and cut a couple of slices. Then make a souped-up grilled cheese sandwich with the pesto and a slice of mozzarella . Use olive oil instead of butter on the outside to give it a real Mediterranean flair. Then serve with a hot bowl of your favorite tomato soup and it is like Heaven on Earth!

Grill a chicken breast, a minute or two before you remove the breast from the grill put some pesto on top of it and cover with a slice of mozzarella or swiss cheese. When the cheese melts remove from the grill and serve. For mushroom pizza that's completely off the chart either get a boboli bread or other pizza crust (you could make your own) then spread the pesto on the crust. Put on shitake, portabello, button and/or any other kind of mushroom you like and a little mozzarella and parm cheese and bake.

Or you could make a pesto, tomato and cheese pizza

Birthday Party Payback

2010-08-23T09:55:00.002-04:00

Friday night we had an early birthday celebration. Ryan and Casey were coming to town so they arranged with Robert and Carrie to take me out to dinner since they'll be busy next weekend when my birthday really is. Mike was still in Wisconsin and Lizzy was busy at school, so it was just us five.
It was a little disconcerting. They took my job.
You see I'm a planner, an organizer, okay - a boss. They asked where I'd like to go - in a certain geographical area - and then they did everything else. Even down to talking to Lizzy about her schedule and making reservations. They showed up with flowers and a ribbon-adorned bottle of wine. When it was time for the bill, they negotiated with the waitress for splitting it and I was left out.
Like I said, a little disconcerting. Don't get me wrong - it was fantastic and they made me proud. Later that night I even thought - "It's like payback for all those birthday parties I threw for them."
Then Saturday morning I read an article in Good Housekeeping about "Letting Go" and it got me to thinking. So much of this time of life for me is about letting go. Letting go of the planning, worrying, controlling. That sounds good, but still figuring out what it really looks like.
Although right now it looks like flowers and curls of bright ribbons.
I think I can get used to this.

I Wanna Go Home

2010-08-20T08:44:00.003-04:00

Back in the hills of East Tennessee the past four days found me practically brain dead - But that's a good thing.
Mama and Daddy and I just hung out - no kids (or Mike) wanting to go anywhere. Nothing I needed to do. Too overcast to swim. Too hot to be out in the yard. We went out to eat for their 53rd wedding anniversary with my brother one night. The other nights Mama cooked okra and squash and Daddy barbequed. We met my one goal of having lunch at a friends place in downtown Kingston (Gibson Girls is in an pre-civil war house and lunch there was wonderful.)
But mostly we sat and talked and watched TV and talked and watched TV. I took my crocheting because that was my plan for the week - sit, talk, watch TV and crochet.
My family is the most stress-free zone you can imagine.
But I was still glad to get back home to Marietta yesterday. My mama has often said she's so happy her kids like going back to their own homes. That everyone should want to go home. When the kids were little and would go to stay a week with Grandma and Grandpa she said she wanted them to like her house, but wanted them to want to go back home. She said through the years she'd heard other grandparents brag that the grandkids liked grandma and grandpa's home more than their own home.
Mama didn't like that.
It is quite a gift to want to go home, isn't it? To want to be where you live. To want to be in the life you are living. Shouldn't a vacation, or time a way, be a time to reinforce how much you want to be at home? How much you love the life you're living?
And if going home's not a good thing - shouldn't that be a sign changes need to be made? or maybe just attitudes adjusted?

Peeling My Eyes OFF the Prize

2010-08-16T09:02:00.003-04:00

Do you like setting goals? Do you usually have a "to-do" list hanging around? How much satisfaction do you get from crossing things off your list? (I've been known to add things to my list after I've done them - just so I can cross them off.)
I'm pretty goal-oriented. For a while last fall right before I signed with my agent, I went through a time when the horizon became fuzzy and my goals weren't clear. Hated that. Now I want a publisher to say "yes" to all the work I and my agent have done. But, you know, that's a goal I really don't have a lot of say in. That kind of goal isn't much fun, is it?
Then this morning I found this phrase about some folks, "Who have set their hearts on pilgrimage." They are even called, "Blessed". I don't know about that. Sure, I totally believe in appreciating the journey, seeing the sights, taking my time - as long as I'm headed in the right direction.
I blogged last November ( http://kayshostak.blogspot.com/2009/11/headed-south-on-saturday-we-left-main.html ) about taking the "Road Less Traveled" - however I can tell you with certainty that if that detour had ended up taking us in the opposite direction of Panama City, the blog would have sounded a tad different.
So the idea of setting my heart on the pilgrimage instead of the end goal is not that appealing to me. And yet. . . the same passage in Psalms 84 says about these folks, "They go from strength to strength." That, I like.
Can I do it? Can I set my heart and hopes and dreams on the journey instead of the outcome?
Can you?

Are You Happy?

2010-08-13T09:47:00.003-04:00

"If I seem so happy to you, you could never say anything that would please me so much. For men are made for happiness, and anyone who is completely happy has a right to say to himself, 'I am doing God's will on earth.'" Father Zossima in The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
The Elder Zossima says this when a woman tells him he seems happy and it struck home with me. Could his statement be true?
I do know the older I get and the more I see, the less I take being happy for granted. Another quote I really like about being happy is the opening line in Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy - "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
(Just hit me that both of these are Russian authors and yet the Russian authors are never thought of for their happiness. Could it be that happiness is more thought of where it's not as plentiful?)
Is that true about the happy and unhappy families? I kind of think it is and maybe that makes happiness appear simple or uncomplicated. Maybe that is why it's so underrated as a goal for a life or a family.
What if our goal was to be happy and then we looked and listened to those folks around us who are truly happy? Would you know where to even look? And after a look would we say, "Aw, that's too easy. Too simple."
Ever seen that sign that says something like, "If you're happy, you obviously don't understand the situation." How incredibly enlightened and clever.
How incredibly sad.

Book Bucket List

2010-08-10T11:54:00.003-04:00

Many years ago I read in one of Maya Angelou's autobiographical books about how she fell in love with Fydor Dostoevsky's "The Brother's Karamazov." Well, that bothered me because I knew Ms. Angelou's background. She was raised in the segregated south, went to a poor, falling down school for only black kids in Stamps, Arkansas. She worked hard every day leaving little time for learning and then ran away and was working with prostitutes when she discovered Dostoevsky and fell in love with his books.
What?
How could she, of such limited learning and resources, not only understand, but LOVE a book I couldn't begin to even want to read. What was there in that book I wasn't willing to take the time to discover? What was there that reached out beyond all the barriers between 1880's Russia and th USA in the 1960's? And even if I took the time to read it - would I get it? And if I don't get it - what then is all my privileged education worth?
So, now, decades later, I finally have picked up The Brother's Karamazov. Believe me, I picked it up with trepidation, but I started reading it this morning. And it's very understandable, filled with drama and story and wisdom - all the things I like. Whew! I may not get all the nuances and layers - but I can read a good story!
So, I'm working on my Book Bucket List with a renewed passion.
What books are on your Book Bucket List? What have you always wanted to read, or thought you should've read?

Toilet Paper Beliefs

2010-08-09T09:25:00.000-04:00

I firmly believe toilet paper rolls should be placed on the holder so the paper is lying on the front of the roll for ease and convenience.
Mike, just as firmly, believes it should hang down at the back for ease and convenience.
Shocking to realize we made it to our 26th anniversary, isn't it?
At first, we explained to each other the infallible attributes of our firmly held, supported-by-our-families, long-practiced, only-reasonable-possibility, belief on the correct execution of this household necessity.
Then (unbelievably without government aid) we came to a compromise. Whoever put the new roll on got to decide how it went and it stayed that way until it was empty.
I had a woman friend tell me once this sharing of being right, was wrong. She said, "I just change it to be the way it's supposed to be."
However, for twenty-six years this compromise has reminded each of us -several times a day - that just because I think something is right, doesn't mean it is the ONLY way for it to be right.
It's a simplistic act of will to bend to another's wish. However, the fact that after two and half decades we each still cling to our preference, says we know and understand we are different and will likely have differences all our lives.
Plus - in our desire to have things our own way, the toilet paper holder is rarely left empty!

So Darned Happy

2010-08-05T08:17:00.002-04:00

New tennis shoes are walking up my street--slowly. They are headed to the bus stop. Yep, first day of school. All over facebook parents are putting up their thoughts on how the morning is going. Reports of tears from the first time moms are surprisingly light. Well, surprising to them.
One mom wondered if the lack of tears was from exhaustion. Or maybe because she'd done it before with her older child. Or maybe because her little one was just "so darned happy".
I pick door number three. It's kind of hard to be sad when they insist on being "so darned happy". Robert graduated from grad school in May, but I remember the day we moved him into his dorm like it was yesterday. After all the moving and hauling and arranging, me and Mike and the younger two were pulling away from Robert's new home. His dorm was having an ice cream social in the front courtyard and as we backed out of the parking space he plunged into the midst of other new students - excitement and anticipation pulsating off him. And my tears just dried right up. He was just "so darned happy".
My best memory of Ryan's wedding day was his grin. Ryan is a happy person anyway - he's always smiling. But on his wedding day his grin was ridiculous - the whole day. How could I feel anything but overwhelming joy?
And shopping with Lizzy yesterday for her apartment. Apartment - not dorm room. Her apartment with a real kitchen and a real living room. Her new home. How do I claim any regret or sadness when she's becoming a wonderful woman? I try, but then she asks me to teach her to cook or buy some silverware. And there's that "so darned happy" grin.
My parents gave me the most wonderful gift of never getting in the way of my times being "so darned happy". They never made it about them and so I never gave their feelings a second thought. Just wallowed in the fact that they obviously were just "so darned happy" for me - besides what could they possibly be sad about???
Now I know the truth - a child's "so darned happy" is them pulling at the strings that tie them to us and us opening our hands and letting that string go.

(Whine alert) It's So Hooooot

2010-08-04T09:22:00.001-04:00

Our house in Illinois didn't have air conditioning. It was an 100 year old farmhouse on a couple acres. Not having air conditioning forced a bending to nature that appealed to me. Sometimes.
We opened windows at night and then closed them mid-morning to keep the cool air in. I did chores early in the morning, because by noon the house would be getting pretty warm. The afternoons were spent sitting in front of a fan or out in the yard under a shade tree. The oven stayed off.
We didn't combat high temperatures. We conceded to them and adapted.
Now, I don't want to try and adapt to Georgia summers. I LOVE my air conditioning. However, sometimes I get so used to controlling my environment, that I miss out. The heat pushes me indoors. In the car, I never consider turning off the air and rolling down the windows. Lights inside make outside look so very dark and going out into the darkness never enters my mind.
Summer can be a time of loosing control. The heat, the bugs - especially the loudness of the bugs at night, profusion of green, intensity of smells, abundance from gardens, glare of the sun, shedding of clothes. And yet I forget to let summer tug on my strings of control. No, I don't just forget - I actively resist that tugging.
So many things must get done today. There's all those dvr'd shows backing up to watch. It's so much more comfortable inside. My computer is lonely.
I want some of that adapting back in my summer. Now, to figure out how to do it---
without turning off my air conditioner.

Loved this Book!

2010-08-03T09:54:00.002-04:00

Just finished a book which is now one of my favorites. It's about a painting. A painting I love and even have hanging in my dining room. Well, of course what I have is a print. A print in a plastic frame all of which I found for less than $10 at an antique store. And, no it wasn't a great find - it looks like is should've cost less than $10. But I love the picture. Now, I love it even more.
The painting and the book have the same title: Luncheon of the Boating Party. Pierre-Auguste Renoir did the painting. Susan Vreeland wrote the book. The book was written in 2007. The picture painted in 1881. I always meant to read the book, but I never read things when they come out because I don't want to get on the waiting list at the library. However, I'm going to a new book group tomorrow and this is the book they were reading. I can't wait to discuss it. Seriously, I am going to have to hold myself back and try to not be obnoxious (it is my first time there, you know.)
The book follows Renoir through the entire process of planning, setting, and completing his painting through eight Sunday's of luncheons on the terrace of Maison Fournaise. The models were his friends and benefactors and the book is about each of their stories. The Impressionist movement and it's turmoil plays a part in the book and since one of the women in the painting becomes Renoir's wife - there is romance.
But best for me is it expresses Renoir's philosophy of painting: "To my mind, a picture should be pleasant, cheerful, and pretty, yes pretty! There are too many unpleasant things in life as it is without creating still more of them."
That's how I feel about writing. I have friends who write very dark things and I have some who write very light things. I want to write beauty and happiness-realistically.
Guess I know now why Mr. Renoir's picture appealed to me so many years ago. Maybe I'll go buy a nicer frame.