Day Two: Chauffeur
Day Two: The best part of my day is driving this kid to youth group and back. We always have such amazing conversations.
Day Two: The best part of my day is driving this kid to youth group and back. We always have such amazing conversations.
Day One: My peonies bloomed today. Summer is off to a vibrant start!
For those of you who were praying with us today, THANK YOU. It’s never easy for anyone to discover a mass or lump, but I think it’s especially scary when you’re 14. IZ and I are so grateful for your prayers—more than we can express. ~~Wende
Pesto and Roses—Kitchen and Garden — The beginnings of a summer list.
Tomorrow marks the Summer Solstice and the official beginning of summer. And as is my custom, I’m crafting my summer to-do list. Typically I’d have a well established list by now, littered with crafty projects and too many baked goods. This year the list feels more nebulous. More like categories of things I want to do, need to do, instead of specific tangible goals.
That scares me. Because I know that without concrete statements and specific goal posts, I’m likely to wile the summer away doing not much of anything. However, those categories, like the “get house ready for the in-laws visit”, seem overwhelming. The amount of items on that list alone makes me shudder.
This is what a year of ignoring your yard and house-hold to-do list will get you. Not that we’ve been in a financial place for action—but last year’s (and we still wait on the bank, in limbo even now) debacle with the bank left us emotionally crippled. It’s hard to consider “doing” when you’re so busy just “coping.”
But this year, spurred on by the specter of my mother-in-law crossing the threshold of this pit we call home, I’m motived. And overwhelmed. Â There’s no more time for worry and inaction, pity nor fear. Unless it’s the fear of being deemed an inadequate housekeeper. Then, I say, use the fear! No, instead it’s time to get cracking. (Man, I love cliches)
So, a list. I’m crafting a list today. It’s still unclear to me if that list will be a self-soothing category list because that seems more manageable than an itemized list, which feels a bit like  being attacked by wild cats; or if I will accomplish the impossible and herd the details into submission. But either way, by the end of the day I’m hopeful that I will at least have some direction for the next 94 days. Because summer begins tomorrow—with or without my list.
Do you craft a summer to-do list? What’s on yours?
On our 21st Anniversary — June 16, 2011 — Astoria Oregon.
It’s not blackberry season yet, it’s not really raspberry season either. But when Safeway had a “buy one get one free” deal on raspberries, I tucked that nagging thought, “It’s kinda early for raspberries” into the far reaches of my mind with the unsorted laundry, and scooped up 2 pints of jewel toned beauty. I’m a sucker for beautiful things. And a deal.
But what to do with slightly not ripe, but really pretty raspberries?
After yesterday’s post, baking is probably a bit counter productive to the whole weight loss thing, eh?
Point of clarification: after reading all of your lovely, well meaning comments I realize that I might not have been as clear as I needed to be. I’m shattered that the dress doesn’t look good in photographs. And that I haven’t found just the right dress to blend into the woodwork at the upcoming weddings. I’m actually feeling pretty good about the weight loss. Yes, I’d like it to move faster, but I know what I’m up against. And progress is progress. However, I will cop to being utterly frustrated with this haircut. I hate it. It’s not an inner beauty or self esteem issue, it’s a “I shouldn’t have let her cut that top layer so short so that I have to torture the heck out of it in order to get it to lie flat” issue.
Why didn’t I just say that in first place? I don’t know. Sometimes, I’m as clear as mud.
Anyhow, here I am with 2 pints of pretty and they’re kinda too tart to just munch. I’ve decided that they need to be in a baked-good, diet schmiet. So, I’m making up the ultimate in coffee cakes, “Marionberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake” with a twist. Because it’s not blackberry season, yet. But, it’s always coffeecake season.
Recipe after the jump.
Hate the hair. Hate the dress. Love the dog. Guess which one I’m keeping?!
This hasn’t been my finest day. Tears and pity. I’ll confess, I’m struggling a bit. It’s all vanity and it’s all pointless, in terms of the bigger things in my life like my health and how to pay the mortgage —miniscule  when put on the earthquake and floods and war scale. But there are days when perspective cannot be found. Where you weep in your beer wishing things just weren’t so.
The thing is, I’ve lost nearly 12lbs since December. That’s nothing to brag about—except that it’s more weight than I’ve ever managed to get off at one time (unless you count that 6 month period when my thyroid went haywire and bumped up my resting heart-rate to 140). And while I have at least 10lbs more to go (ideally 15, but I’m a pragmatist about these things) my weight loss has S Â L Â O Â W Â E Â D to an nearly imperceptible pace. It’s not weight gain, but a half pound in 6 weeks is hardly worth counting.
Cecile Brunner climbing my arbor on a Grey day in June.
What’s up with this weather? Oh yeah, it’s June on the North Coast. For those of you who live in diverse climates and are already tanned and complaining about the heat and humidity—I’m trying not to resent you. I kinda do, tho. I see your Facebook status talking about your flirty little sandals and the neato keen colored lights in you pool and I think very, very bad thoughts about you.
I’m sorry. It’s poor form. My sense of ethics and fair play and being genuinely happy for your good fortune is moldy.
I wonder if that would fly in a Great Judgement scenario? Dear God, I was petty and thought malicious things because I was green with mold and envy. There was something in the water, God. It’s not really my fault?!
I’m guessing not. Good thing I don’t put much stock in those scenarios. (God’s going to punt me straight to purgatory and LEAVE me there, don’t bother praying for my water-logged soul.)
Where was I? Oh yeah, you’re enjoying summer and I’m busy resenting you.
Welcome to June.
Spent my day with this boy at Pike’s. Where several people stopped him to say, “You’re so polite. HOW old are you?” Thank you random people for the positive reinforcement!
He said, “Point at something.” So I did. I’m nothing if not compliant. (shot outside the Fremont Market. The weather has been amazing in Seattle!)