Might Truly be the Best Ever

Last night in my reading of the current book club selection, Cutting for Stone, I came across what truly might be the best ever weaving of words. 

Let me set it up a bit...

The words of the century came in the book after a well known African children's tale was referenced.  A tale about a miserable merchant who hated the fact he had no money and hated the fact he held a lowly job and hated his life so much so that he couldn't even stand the sight of his battered and beaten slippers anymore.  He kept trying to get rid of the ghastly in his eyes slippers but every time he did, more disaster struck.  Catastrophic disaster.  The reference to this made in Cutting for Stone comes when the character named Ghosh is in an Ethiopian prison (Kerchele).  The old jailbird man who tells stories every night while they all try to sleep ends up saying right before they all drifted off - that merchant "might as well build a special room for his slippers.  Why try to lose them?  He'll never escape."  The man then died in his sleep while imprisoned.

Flash forward to Ghosh talking to his son after he is out of prison.  He says while discussing life and its twists and turns, "The old man was right.  The slippers in the story mean that everything you see and do and touch, every seed you sow, or don't sow, becomes part of your destiny..."

And then they came.  What might truly be the best ever string of words.  

"Ghosh sighed, 'I hope one day you see this as clearly as I did in Kerchele.  The key to your happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have, and own the ones you don't.  If you keep saying your slippers aren't yours, then you'll die searching, you'll die bitter, always feeling you were promised more.  Not only our actions, but also our omissions become our destiny.'"  

Owning the slippers.  Owning the slippers on our feet.  How beautiful.  How perfect.     

What follows now has entirely nothing to do with the aforementioned other than the to say one thing I own about myself is the poor planning of slamming in last minute projects.  Case in point this one, the painting of the two end tables I've had sitting in the garage since last winter when they were on the teacher classifieds as brown 1960 veneer numbers.

I decided they had to be finished before I started my new job.  Had to!  It started like any other painting project of mine.  With an oh I know!  I'll just paint these real quick like today.  Which turned quickly into a you've got to be kidding me?!  This is taking forever and now I have paint all over hell and can this just be done already?  I did push through and finish them - all two coats and a wax job later - and I do indeed rather enjoy how they turned out.  Even if my driveway still has blue speckles of paint all around. 

Back to the slippers and owning your own pair.  I do believe that sentiment and the way it was spoken is the best I've heard to describe successfully wrapping your head around life. 

Read All the Way

In lieu of dying Easter Eggs last Saturday, I spent some time rearranging the dining room shelves.  My kind of happy.  It led me to color sorting my books into a rainbow ombre type of business like I've seen in many places and have wanted to copy.

It takes time that color sorting of books because here's what happens...

Does the spine which is cream but has orange words go with the greys/creams/whites or does it go at the tail end of the orange leading into the yellow?  Does the spine which is blue and green with a touch of red go with the blue, the green, or the red?

And finally, does that color which is apparently super popular for book spines these days and is like an aqua or a turquoise but not really exactly either of those go with green or blue?

It's tough.

Obviously this whole analysis of the struggle is very tongue in cheek as it's color sorting books.  First world problems at their finest right here.

The final product does indeed do to my eyes what I wanted and I feel this activity covered the same bases as dying Easter eggs on the Saturday before the Sunday morning.

I also feel like I might be entering a whole new level of neurotic, so there's that too.  Happy Friday!  May the weekend be like the best thing ever times three for you and yours.

If you have some spare minutes, because those are plentiful right, listen or watch or watch and listen this little blip.  I believe researcher Heidi Grant Halvorson just may be hitting lots of points which cause pondering.  It's all about the Be Good mindset vs. the Get Better mindset.  I always enjoy learning new things which make me look in the mirror and do some reflecting.

The basic premise is if we are operating in a Be Good mindset, we are functioning simply to compare ourselves to others and are setting ourselves up for failure.  It's the notion of I'm not a "math person."  Therefore, I just don't do that business because so and so down the hall is good at math, not me.  If we are operating in a Get Better mindset, we are functioning to always improve our own performance measured against our previous go at it.  It's the notion of there's no such thing as a "math person."  Or a skilled at cooking person.  Or a technology inclined person.  Here's where I add in my two cents.  I do believe people are sometimes naturally talented in areas but I also believe many times it is what we have been cultivated into and have worked hard to achieve.   So maybe if the Get Better against my own start point was applied to things we don't think we can do, we could in fact do them.  And eventually do them well. 

It's like the self-fulfilling prophecy a bit.  My mom was the queen of using this to get us to become public speakers and brownie bakers and leaders.  She calls it strong use of momma manipulation but I think it might be deeper than that and more positive than using the word manipulation.  Maybe it was more of creating an atmosphere of using the Get Better mindset.  

I'm rambling now so I'll stop with saying, I wonder where color sorting books for your dining room shelves falls?  

Not a Whine Fest

We made it to February folks.  

I am aware it's just another day on the calendar, but can I get an AMEN that this morning maybe, possibly, just might have felt like one step closer to some springy spring?  

Like I had a moment of wanting to wear my heels without socks.  But then I remembered I live in North Dakota and the temperature outside was negative eight.  

So socks I put on and instead wore four shirts. 



But February!  It's here.  

And in years past, February has not been my best friend.  It tends to be the month when I question my entire existence.  Why do I teach?  Why do I live here?  Why do I have curly hair?  Why are my fingernails always breaking in the winter?  Why can I not for the life of me remember to buy light bulbs?  Or decaffeinated tea?  Why do I have to wake up and get dressed every single day?  Why is my middle name Beth?  

I mean really.  February has a nasty little track record in my book.  

But I'm making a vow.  Right here and right now.  This February will not be the whine fest of Februaries past.  There will be no calling Whine-1-1 going on over here.   

Side note.  When turning a month into a plural and it ends in a 'y' does one change the 'y' to an 'i' and add 'es' or does one use an apostrophe even though it doesn't show ownership but because it's a proper noun and probably should be pluralized in the first place does it break all rules then?  Again, this month shows lots of complexities!  

Here's to me figuring out some way to make February fun.  Right now I'm envisioning sewing red and pink and white felt hearts into a garland.  I think that's my first step.

 

Oh and then next I think I'll get me some of those felt balls I see flying around everywhere and make a wreath!  A wreath in February.  Yes that is the ticket.   

Pretty fixes things for me.  I can't fight it.  Instead, I roll.

Another side note.  I'm fairly certain whimsy might be favorite word ever.  Ever.  

 

 

And my grandma's locket.  Also my favorite.  Ever.  I have a lot of favorite evers I've noticed. 

 



They are Back. Back in Glitter.

I just finished eating chick peas for breakfast and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet.  They were roasted with real maple syrup and cinnamon in my oven first, but I'm still not quite sure how I feel about it yet.

Here is something I am absolutely over the setting sun sure about...glitter clothespins.  They are instant gratification in the finest form.

Brittany and I tried them first last Christmas and this year Danae and I tackled a new batch along with Mod Podge scrapbook paper pins because everyone needs dolled up clothespins in their life.

Here is another something I am absolutely over the setting sun sure about...ribbon on my closet doors with those pretties to display my favorite part of the holiday season, the Christmas cards!

Here is another something I am absolutely over the setting sun about...shamelessly asking people to send me their card.  I do it every year on Facebook because here's why.  I love looking at my friends and family's smiling faces is why.

Even though I know secretly behind the scenes of 92% of holiday cards was a gong show.  In fact, maybe that's why I adore them so.   

From This Labor Day On

From this day forward, I am declaring a tradition.  The tradition is called on Labor Day, we shall all meet at the farm in the morning and can homemade graden salsa.  The official title is From This Labor Day On. 

 

Momma Debi will chop the onions and garlic while Sil peels and slices the tomatoes during which I dice the green and hot peppers.  With Sister Pister doing her college homework at the counter and the four kids running underfoot. 

Dad-o and Brother will pop in and out from testing the flax to see if it is ready to combine and the two little boys will insist upon going along for the back and forths.  Dad-o will have to almost run me over with the combine before I realize mid-running stride he is behind me because the music and the sun and the gravel road are doing it right.  The kids will play outside and find treasures to show Nana.  We will all visit and catch up with each other.

I'm declaring a new tradition because that's exactly what happened this morning and I think it should happen again.  That's the way it is with traditions; they start from something that makes you go, "This right here?  This is the life I want."  And then you recreate the good stuff over and over again. 

 

Yes, Labor Day is now forever going to be precisely what it was today.  Productivity, family, and life loving.          

 

The smell of the salsa cooking brought on my final feelings of fall.  It's here.  The air is crisper, the grass is crunchy underfoot, and the leaves are thinking about it.  They are.  So naturally when I walked in my door in the late afternoon with a box of jars in my hands, I ignored my unpacked suitcase from earlier weekend travels and I ignored the clean dishwasher which needed emptying and I ignored the laundry and I ignored the stack of work business brought home on Friday and I ignored that I could see footprints on my floors.  Ignored all of that to take a few moments to tie some pretty string around one jar of salsa. 

 

Ignored all of that to dump old fashioned oatmeal which had been sitting in a canister on my counter for too long in a vase to magically become a candle holder. 

 

 

Ignored all of that to place the not quite ripe squash to top off the start of my fall table.  It's totally September now so I don't even feel any shame.  My happy fall dance is officially rolling. 

   

Maybe I love this time of year so much because it brings about these feelings of gratitude inside me.  Of being more than thankful my family is all close and that we can gather at the farm to do something like can homemade garden salsa.  Sure it's amazing to have jars of fresh salsa to crack into anytime I want, but what's better is knowing all of the action which happened behind the scenes of that tomato slicing and green pepper dicing. 
  

Now that's in the late hours of the night, I know I put my nose the grindstone after the table episode and everything has been crossed off the to-do list.  Another reminder of sometimes it's alright to do the pretty-ing up stuff first before the work is done. 

Add to my From This Labor Day On tradition:

Decorate the table for fall.  Only the table. 





Now for the Big Picture

The past few weeks have been a whirl wind. 

Now, I feel it winding down.  Sort of.  I've learned with every ebb comes a return of flow.

I'm the type of person who gets wrapped up in the details.  And then processes the big picture later.  It's been a couple weeks since Sister Pister's party.  The glitter and hot glue gun and scrapbook paper and twine and clothespins have been put away.  As have my go go go feelings of being in party planning mode which means now I've moved onto thinking about the reality of why we had that party in the first place.

During the entire duration of the Friday night before the festivities when I was set up at my card table in the garage for crafting central, all I could think about was what was next on the list to get ready.  I was not thinking about the fact a page is turning.  That a moving on is happening.  That the next wave in our family's way of life is here.   

That a shift of change will be coming with friendships.  That it's hard to let go of the past and jump into the future.  That it's imperative to keep friends who matter close even when distance becomes a factor. 

Then on Saturday when it was really go time and my partner in crime cousin named Cheryl and I were in full on get it done flying around with cutting jeans and arranging sunflowers and covering tables and hanging banners and bossing Beaner to fill jars with gravel and sweep off the outside of the house, I was going through in my head how the next morning would go with the final tweaking before actually showering and getting myself ready.  I wasn't thinking about how amazing it is to have a net of family who comes swooping in to help and celebrate and laugh and help some more.  Having that kind of close knit crew to be a part of is a blessing.  Brian, Cheryl, and their two kids go above and beyond.  Every single time.  Thank you is simply not enough.     

On Saturday evening, when the sun poked through the clouds finally and I was out in the yard doing the weed whacking and blowing the winter gunk out of the landscape rocks, I was exhausted.  To the point that all I was thinking about was going home to bed.  I wasn't thinking the next day my sister would be giving her speech to a gym full of people and that the instant she mentioned my name in that speech, tears would roll from my eyes.  So much so I would have to put the camera to my face and start clicking to avoid the truly ugly cry from making its appearance.

On Sunday morning, when it was still early morning dark out and I was in my kitchen dipping marshmallows into melted chocolate and rolling them in crushed up graham crackers to create the look of mini straw bales or cat tales or something rustic to fit the theme, I was worried about how it was taking longer than I planned for and had mild anxiety about hoping for the sun to shine and the wind to not blow.  I wasn't thinking about how there were many times I worried about how Em would turn out.  She was a bit of a flighty free spirit when she was a little sprite.  And she still is a free spirit, but my worries have flown out the window as she is more than just fine.  Kind, hardworking, driven, responsible, gives love, and is loved.           

At daybreak on Sunday morning, when the sun started rising and I was still dipping away, I was more than perturbed at the pesky marshmallows which kept falling down on the stick and was panicking that I was running out of time and might have to go to graduation in my jammies.  I wasn't thinking about how my parents will be missing having kids around their house next fall.  It's been thirty-one years of kid running and entertainment for them.  To say they will miss their "little" is an understatement.

At noon on Sunday, after all of the decorations had been finished and the food had been made and every last detail was accounted for, I was getting ready in the basement with my sister.  I was trying to hurry to get my hair and makeup and outfit all put together and I tore my nylons.  And it quickly turned into a rat race.  I wasn't thinking about how soon my little sister will be hours away and we won't be seeing each other nearly as often.  I wasn't thinking about that I should cherish that half an hour I had with her standing next to me in that bathroom and forget the nylons and the perfect mascara and jewelry and just stop.  Stop to give her a squeeze hug and tell her I'm more than proud of her and I love her to pieces.

Before the ceremony, I was in the lunch room with Em taking whatever pictures she wanted me to.  And my head was finally in the right place.  The place of celebrating the reason for the entire weekend and all of the work and details.  The place of embracing that little stinker and being so happy for who she is on the inside.

The place of being able to slow down and enjoy.  Enjoy moments like this.  When her friend Adam, who she has known since babyhood, swooped in for a surprise kiss.  It was priceless.  They are really the best of friends and always have been.  I used to take them to the circus when they were tiny things and wondered about the people they would become.  I could have hoped back then as I looked at their two bright faces they would someday be the co-Valedictorians of their class and turns out, they did just that.  From circuses and playgrounds to giving the speeches at their high school graduation.  Full circle.  Time is flying.

Right before the ceremony, I stood outside the school entrance and waited.  Waited for my friend Karen.  She drove up and handed me new nylons through the window and said, "There you go!  Now go give 'em hell."  Because she's like that.  She's the friend that will receive your panic text and go to Target right when they open their doors.  She's the friend that will drive twenty-three miles with new nylons.  She's the friend that then says things like "give 'em hell" when there is no real reason for it.  She's the friend that comes to your sister's party with her kids because your family mine as well be hers too.       

With two minutes to spare, I was completely ready.  New nylons included.  I walked up to Em who was standing in line waiting for the Pomp and Circumstance.  I walked up to her and hugged her and whispered in her ear, "I love you.  Give 'em hell on the speech.  And I'm proud of you."

Then it was over.  Sister Pister did her thing and got that diploma.  Then the party started.  And it was perfect.  A perfect big picture from all of those little details.  A perfect end to this chapter.  A perfect beginning to the next one.       

Perfect happiness celebrated indeed.