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. 

Never Happens That Way

I flutter at night.  Ping around doing this and finishing that and starting the other.  At eleven o'clock a night a couple of weeks in a hotel in some city in this state, I was trying to settle down.  It was hopeless really.  I had gone for a run at 5:00 and then made the errors of all errors - an iced coffee on the hour drive to the resting town for the night.  Wound up.  Eleven o'clock.  

This the conversation that occured between Karen and I via text.

Me in a string of four separate texts because when texting late at night it's important to make their phone ding four distinct times.  

Just had an idea!!

A fun ladder as a quilt rack.

Like a flat ladder that would lay against the wall.

Don't let me forget that!

She responded.  

???

Do you mean to be talking to your mama?

I don't quilt.  

I answered.

No you.

She came back.

Ohhhh, I get it!!  Yes!!

A quilt rack as a ladder.

Then I sent her a fist emoji.

That's a punch.  

As in, you fool.

Hahahahaha.

Remember our quilt rack discussions?

I mean I don't why at eleven o'clock at night her brain wouldn't go straight to understanding my entirely out of context and random ladder quilt rack string of thought bubbles.  The conversation ended with me saying something about how now I just had to find one and her saying she wouldn't let me forget and then me saying I'm wound up and her saying I know how you ping at night!  

So there you have it.  An idea was born.  Then last Sunday, I looked in my brother's shop and there it was!  Exactly what I had in mind.  When does that happen?  Never.  Things never happen that way, but this time it did and how lucky.  I power washed the ladder at the farm and it dried in my garage all this week while I was out traveling and working.  

Now it's a quilt rack ladder.   

My grandpa's ladder and my mom's quilts.  It simply doesn't get better than that; I love when a late night idea actually comes to fruition.  Of course one of the first things I did after setting it up was to text Karen.  

That's totally what friends are for.

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 Jealous at All

I could get irritated that it is easier for her.  Yes, it could give me some green envy.  That she can just pick up yarn and look at directions and make anything.  Flowers for your hair!  Winter headbands!  Coffee cozies!  Cowls!  Beanie hats!  Chevron blankets!  

While I have to do one project over and over again until I basically memorize it, for written directions are like a maze to this brain of mine.  Here's where I will admit I still can not to this day, hook up a DVD player or a computer or anything which requires that form of thinking.    

But I don't.  I don't get irritated and I'm not green with envy.  Rather I just keep asking her for help instead.  Grateful for the time with my little sister on the morning after Chrismas.  Still wearing our kind of jammies and sitting on opposite ends of the couch chatting about life in between my pleas of, "Okay now what does a double crochet stitch mean again?  Like tell me in loop and pull or loop and pull through two or what?"  

Maybe if we were closer in age, there would be more sister competition and general pissed off-ness at her ability to pick all things up so easily.  But because I'm an entire decade older, I simply feel proud of that nugget.  She is smart.  She is kind.  And she is one mean little crocheter.  

However, I'm not sure if she has surpassed this one yet.  Momma Debi has it going on when it comes to anything involving thread or yarn and stitches.  

I'll always be in last place in this category, but I'm entirely at peace with it.  I really am.  Meager memorizing crocheting is my style.  

It's not like to get some revenge, I'd share a really unattractive picture of us in the morning having a laugh over her random blurt, "The train.  I heard the train in Hartland."  A really unattractive picture of the two of us.  No, I would never do that.    

Up Up Time

Today was back to work day and now that it's evening, I think I feel alright with it.  Well, I have to be in compliance since the money tree for the backyard hasn't been delivered yet.  That Amazon Prime two day shipping isn't all it's cracked up to be.  Anyways back to what I was saying, I tend to take the week and a half or so of Christmas break to really fall off the routine and structure bandwagon.  I do things like eat coffee ice cream after having cinnamon sugar toast and I sleep until seven and don't do any running or really much of any activity other than sitting cross legged with a crochet hook or lifting a coffee mug to my face while visiting.  

 

 

And I have decided I need those days of no rules with wearing leggings with fuzzy socks and nights of baths with wine and a book.  It actually makes me itch and want the structure.  The down time makes me want the up time back.  I was excited last night to set my alarm for 4:42 to hit the gym and I felt back in control while packing my lunch with real food like carrots.  The novelty will wear off again and then force of habit will take over but for now, I'm enjoying it all feeling like new resolve.   

It's up time again.  Go time.   

But that's not to take away from the magic that was Christmas break this year.        

  

I am fairly certain I could have really handled a few more days off but like I said previously, I think I'm alright with being back in the game.  Days of playing with helicopters and enjoying homemade tomato soup with ridiculous grilled cheese and never taking off glorified pajamas can't last forever.  Right?  Money tree where are you?     

Yet Again I do THIS

Does anyone else do this to themselves?  

Oh it's a week and half before Christmas so now is when you should decide to start a ginormous project with pictures.  As in going through the last eight years and doing some sorting and book making.  

Anyone else? 

Which leads me to...
 

Why?  Why do I do this to myself?  

Because now here I am.  Saturday night and I'm sitting in this blue paisley chair with my glasses on and red eyes and an anxious get this done GET THIS DONE feeling.  

Bottom of the ninth.  

Of course.

I've really come a long way in most areas of the bottom of the ninthing it but certain things like pictures and party planning will always remain a wait kind of thing.  

And I've decided it's because it is blastingly (making that word up) overwhelming situation.  It's like the hardest for me.  To decide this picture goes and this picture gets shown and this picture stays.  I have so many pictures.  

My own fault really.  Over documenting probably.  But then as I sit here and scroll through the last eight years plicking (making that word up) out memories, I am flooded with emotion.  It's all here.  

It's all here.  In these pictures of mine.  Every big event.  Most small events.  And more so than the actual memory of what happened, it's the memory of the feeling in where I was at in my life that is grabbing me.  

Feeling behind the picture.  The unseen.  It's there.  It's all there.  

So I'm thankful.  Thankful I over document and bottom of the ninth myself into these blastingly (I like it and I want to use it much) overwhelming Saturday nights.  Just me, myself, and my pictures.
 

And a glass of wine.  I have a glass of wine and tears in my eyes because how can you not when you look back...when I look back and think that one day these pictures of my little sister and I at my thirtieth birthday will be a treasure.  We'll be old and gray and these will bring a twinkle to our eye. 

Sometimes I panic at the thought that if something should ever happen to me all these memories would be stuck without being in the hands of the people who lived them with me.  The very idea which stemmed this bottom of the ninth project to begin with...

These are It

Sometimes when I'm sitting on a tiny chair with my one cowboy boot crossed over the other cowboy boot looking out at twenty give or take faces all looking back at me while we discuss what makes writing writing, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. 

 

Sometimes when I'm sitting across from a business owner and we are discovering their direct mail marketing needs and our wheels are turning and the ideas are spinning and the sale is made, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

Sometimes when my camera is in front of my eye and the leaves are golden and twinkly in the fall sun with a family romping around while I say silly things and do silly things to get the moment, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

 

Sometimes while I sit in my blue paisley with hints of coral office chair pecking on my keys and letting the thoughts go from my head down through my fingers to write it out, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

 

Sometimes during the crocheting of a cowl or the crafting to create a rainbow yarn garland or the creating of a piece of wall art or the cooking of a made from completely scratch meal or the party theme planning with every detail aligning, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. 

 
And then because there are so many yes this is its happening, it becomes one hefty balancing act.  And then in the real crazy times where the balance becomes more like an all helter skelter imbalance, I want to desperately give something up.  To change from yes to no.  To do only one thing or maybe even two things.  I lean towards throwing things right off my plate, not just throwing but more like catapulting.  

But then inevitably the flow comes to offset that ebb.  To do list items get crossed off and tasks are finished and events come to a winding end and then I'm so dang happy and full that I think to myself, I can't take one of these things away.  

If I take one of my yes this is its away, then I'm not living with and in the gifts which have been given to me. 

 

I'll keep teaching with my cowboy boots on and my hands flying all around.  I'll keep working with businesses to market their passions.  I'll keep capturing moments for other people because they end up capturing parts of my being as well.  I'll keep making and doing and planning the pretty I want to see in the world around me.
 

The key is balance and priorities.  Knowing when I have to simply say, "No not right now."  And knowing when to say, "Hell yes right now." 
 

Saturday! Saturday!

The sun is shining over here and I'm working on a fabulous little Saturday.  Yes, the sun is shining but it is more than cold cold.  So deceiving, like the toys from the Life cereal boxes of my childhood. 

 

Bread is baking and house is cleaning and I was cooked an omelet this morning which was pretty much on this side of perfection. A good Saturday always starts with a swiss cheese and peppers omelet with a side of "Will you drop me off at the door of Hobby Lobby so I can get more yarn? Because the thought of walking across the parking lot is too unbearable."  Hi my name is Amy and I'm a cold weenie.   

 

Let's just say I now have more yarn in my basket and I was dropped off at the door.  And the snow is sparkly. 

 

 

Which happens to be my favorite thing. 

 

 

A serious case of random look something shiny is happening right now but happiness is flowing straight out of me as I sit here going through my this year's Christmas captures and eating green apples with gritty peanut butter, the kind you have to stir because it's the best.  I'll spare you the details about how it's necessary to use a butter knife to spread the peanut butter just so evenly on each slice.  As with everything else in my life, it's a process.  I can make anything a tradition.  I really can.   

 



Last Minute Preparations

In the Christmas tree and lamp lit darkness, I sat tucked in the corner of my couch.  The corner nearest the fire.  A fuzzy blanket wrapped around me and hot coffee steaming up to my face, alternating between reading and crocheting.  Fully aware what I was experiencing was the calm before the festivities really took their mark and hit.  And so it was treasured.  Those minutes spent to myself, fueling my reservoir of heart happiness, were treasured. 

 

 

There is something soothing about being up early, starting on tasks for the day after having those precious minutes to read and take care of me.  The day ahead is still wide open while in the morning darkness.  Almost as if I'm stealing time, taking it for my advantage.   

 

 

Slowly, the light filtered through my windows and brought with it a dare I say, perfect snowfall.  

 

 

I always have the urge when the snow is falling in flakes to get out in it; I'm sure yet another trait of my always ready to pounce inner child.  Instead of tromping through and playing, it was a trip to the grocery store.  Still early enough on Sunday morning it was nearly abandoned, just the way I like it.  Especially while still wearing pajamas.

 

 

Once home it was the start of the finale of preparations to the big show of Christmas.  Sugar cookie making next to my kitchen window was spiritual.  The best kind of spirit.