Lessons in the Art of Slow

Where AM I?

2011-10-20T08:39:00.001-07:00

I'm blogging here and only here for now:

Widdershins and Skeleton Keys

Makes things easier. Do stop by! I've missed you!!!

~J

Testing...

2011-07-29T15:04:00.000-07:00

This is just a test.
Wanted to play around with some backgrounds.
Get the feel for the slow life again.
Heaven knows I need it.

Lessons in the art of slow is calling...
I'll answer soon.

~Jen

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2010-01-12T08:00:00.001-08:00

Hello dear readers!

I have a bit of an announcement to make this morning. I have been pondering this for quite some time and feel that it is in my best interest to no long post on this blog. However, before you lament or refuse to speak to me every again, the weekly posts that have graced these pages will appear in other locations. I'm not changing the content, just the location. My passions for writing and starting my own business have consumed my spare time and I realized the other day that the posts here fit beautifully within the structure and content of my other blogs.

Therefore, the articles and musings was posting here on Tuesdays, will now be found at Woolgatherings, my writing blog. I'm looking to get some articles published this year, and my articles I've been posting here are along the lines of what I'm seeking to publish. Please, please join me over there. I know a lot of you already are, so this won't be a big change. You'll only have to click once to read!

As for my ponderings on living life slowly, taking it easy, and cultivating a simpler life, those fall in line beautifully with what I'm doing over at Sagewood Manor. This blog is not just a business blog, but a lifestyle experiment. This lifestyle is about creating a life you love, a simple, beautiful, peaceful life. Please stop by for a visit. I know you'll love it there! It's in the start up stages, but it's growing by leaps and bounds! I'll definitely leave this site up. The archived articles will always be there for you perusal.

Thank you all for understanding. It's just become too much to keep up with three blogs, especially when the content so beautifully meshes with the others I'm spending more and more time with. Forgive me this little shifting in your daily routine. I look forward to seeing you all at The Manor and at the Gatherings.

Yours, regardless of bloggy location,
Jen

Photograph of Spring

2010-01-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

photo by Joe Bonita, found here

The sky over to the west is deep grey, washed out, refracting the sun overhead; the storm is over. The late afternoon sun trickles out, creating rainbows in the puddles. Raindrops are turned to diamonds as they cling to brilliant green leaves, letting go to splash (plink, plop!) to the mud below. Birds call out, snails glide slowly across the rocks, worms burrow out of hiding. At the foot of the hill, a gentle river of run off flows, washing the grass off my feet, from between my toes. It laughs and gurgles it's way to the woods and the brush pile where the wild, brown bunnies live. For this moment, I am alive!

For all my friends up north tired of feet and feet of snow, I leave you warm wishes of the coming Spring.

~Jen

An Announcement

2010-01-04T06:26:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

(for those of you who follow my other blog, I apologize for the duplicate nature of this post. My regularly scheduled posting will being tomorrow :)

Monday is here again. A new week, a new year, a new decade. I get giddy at the thought of a new beginning, even if it's just a self imposed new start on a random Thursday during a random week. But with the coming of this new year, I had some specific new beginnings in mind.

Some of you may not be aware that I have another blog. Woolgatherings is my blog devoted to the art of writing and the sometimes crazy aspects of an otherwise worthy calling. There I write about the art, the craft, the ups, the downs, the struggles and the beauty of this noble and yet fickle beast. Stop by! Even if you're not a writer by profession, you'll meet an amazing array of authors from all walks of life whose voices ring so clearly I honestly don't know how I could stay on track without their sweet tones to guide me. Come and join us Mondays and Wednesdays :) The more the merrier!

Lessons in the Art of Slow will continue and, as a new determination on my part, will be a bit more focused in not only commenting and musing about the gentle life of simplicity we all long for, but also will take a look into some of the cultural issues that seem to stand in our way of getting that blessed simple, quiet, beautiful life. I hope you'll continue to join me as I explore this "art of slow". I do so love having friends along for the ride!

My big news that I left you wondering about last post isn't earth shattering or life changing. For me, however, it is pretty big and exciting. A third blog has come into being but this one carries with it a bit more weight than my other two. I have long desired to start my own business. I've tried, failed, tried again, fizzled out, changed course, stepped out, rearranged, announced and paused. It was this final pause that gave birth to Sagewood Manor. A place where I can be myself and create that which brings my heart joy. Initially I intended to open wide it's virtual doors on Etsy today, but it was that pause that made me realize I was not ready, it was not ready. And that's OK.

Sagewood Manor is a blog, a business, and an experiment in lifestyle. For the next six months I will post daily about my journey, not only to a full blown online shoppe (yes, I do love the old English spelling best) but also in a change of lifestyle, a shift in priority and style. It's not something I can easily put into words but I do hope its essence will come across in words and photographs. Expect craft projects, experimental products, really bad excursions into metalwork, ramblings and attempts at making homemade pasta and tomato sauce. And always, always, an outstretched hand eager to embrace new friends and create community. The shoppe will open her virtual doors 01 July, 2010 *cue the noise makers and fireworks!*

Do stop by when you can. The door is always opened for you, dear friends. I invite you all on this new journey with me. This experiment. I do love experiments. Mad scientist like. Evil laughter, purple rubber gloves rubbed together as the lightening swirls around and brings my creation to life! But don't worry, that's just what goes on in the dungeon :) Upstairs, the fire is lit, the kettle is singing, and there's plenty of cushions, leather sofas, and velvet covered settees to go 'round. Leave your hat and coat by the door, your cane and gloves will await you on the table just there. Stay as long as you wish and visit as often as you will.

Welcome to 2010! May it be the best yet.
Jen

Happy New Year

2010-01-01T07:49:00.001-08:00

Hello friends!

I hope you all had a marvelous new year's eve. A safe one, especially! The husband and I stayed at home and watched movies, laughed ourselves silly and made cookies. It was wonderful.

I just wanted to put up a quick post to say two things:

1) I have met so many wonderful people this past year through blogging. Count yourself as one of those wonderful people :) Thank you for reading my musings. Your blogs and your comments inspire and fuel me to continue down this often crazy, winding path of creativity with words.

2) I have a little announcement to make but you'll have to wait until Monday to find out what it is :) Wicked, I know, but it will keep you guessing until then!

Happy New Year, dear readers! I wish you all health, joy, and the fulfillment of your dreams large and small.

Always,

Jen

Thoughts for the New Year

2009-12-29T08:30:00.000-08:00

My bloggy pal Lin over at Duck with Wheel and String posted this interested collection of thoughts. I thought they were a great chance to clear the cobwebs about what I want for the new year. How I want to go about doing things differently, what I want to get rid of and what I want to go after. Feel free to do the same over at your place. We can compare notes :)

I am...

saying no to worrying so much about what other people think of me, fear that keeps me paralyzed and unproductive, worrying about those things I can't do anything about, the excuse "I'll do it tomorrow"

saying yes to my dreams, life, getting outside every day, laying the groundwork for the life I long for, cooking more and savoring every meal, breathing whenever I feel stress coming on, myself

giddy about starting a business I care about and am passionate about, submitting my trilogy to agents, a clean slate, the knowledge I've accrued this year that will steer me into my business and writing goals for the next

deeply inspired by nature, music, fresh air, the amazing blogs I read, Victoria magazine and British Country Living, the wonders of the ancient past and its stories

obsessed with drinking tea, really good cheese, blogging, reading, writing, creating beautiful things, story

in love with my husband Jon, life

scared of never seeing my dreams come true, spiders, being stuck in the city we're in now forever, working in an office for the rest of my life

haunted by poor decisions

saved by grace

Happy Tuesday to all! It's good to be back.
Jen

I've only got a moment...

2009-12-20T14:52:00.001-08:00

...the Internet may decide to vanish once more. I was able to put up a post over at Woolgatherings. Wander on over if you like. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Happy Holidays!

Love,
Jen

PS: Welcome to my newest followers. I apologize for being unable to visit your blogs as my computers (both at home and at work) are having issues. As soon as I'm able, I shall be by to thank you!

Apology

2009-12-15T05:52:00.000-08:00

Just in case you're wondering, I'm not dead! But my computer is close to being so. I apologize for the lack of posts but most importantly I apologize for the lack of reading and commenting on your wonderful blogs! Please forgive. I hope to be back to "normal" by the end of this week. Hopefully by then the computer issue will be rectified. Please don't give up on me dear friends! My once consolation is that I will have a lot of reading to catch up on! Sounds like a nice, leisurely Sunday morning to me :)

Happy week!
Jen

Snow

2009-12-10T06:50:00.000-08:00

I see a pattern (dare I say a theme?) amongst blogs today. Snow. Theme Thursday is not something I've participated in before, but in the spirit of the season, I wanted to post something about snow.

I love snow. I'm a Georgia girl. We love snow. We have romanticized ideas of snow, from Dicken's England to the Colorado Rockies. A few flakes and the coats, hats, gloves, pizza pans come out. (Pizza pans? If you have to ask, you're not from the south .Why, a good, old fashioned, metal, round pizza pan makes and excellent sled. It's not like we southerners have THOSE lying about in the garage!).

My ideas of snow, my memories of snow are clouded and mixed with fantasy. Instead of waxing long and poetic, I thought I'd let Archibald Lampman do so for me:

White are the far-off plains, and white
The fading forests grow;
The wind dies out along the height,
And denser still the snow,
A gathering weight on roof and tree,
Falls down scarce audibly.

The road before me smooths and fills
Apace, and all about
The fences dwindle, and the hills
Are blotted slowly out;
The naked trees loom spectrally
Into the dim white sky.

The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snow-fall hoods me round;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence everywhere.

Save when at lonely intervals
Some farmer's sleigh, urged on,
With rustling runners and sharp bells,
Swings by me and is gone;
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear;

The barking of a dog, or call
To cattle, sharply pealed,
Borne echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far a-field;
Then all is silent, and the snow
Falls, settling soft and slow.

The evening deepens, and the gray
Folds closer earth and sky;
The world seems shrouded far away;
Its noises sleep, and I,
As secret as yon buried stream,
Plod dumbly on, and dream.

This is one of my favorite poems and I was introduced to it by the ethereal music of Loreena McKennit. Go HERE to hear this beautiful version accompanied by some beautiful images. I tried to embed the video, but apparently my computer doth protest too much!

Happy Thursday,
Jen

Handmade Christmas This Year

2009-12-09T06:42:00.000-08:00

Looks like it's going to be handmade Christmas this year. I don't mind at all. I usually end up making some of the gifts we give but this year we've decided to make them all. I found a wonderful caramel recipe from Mary Jane's Farm magazine (last December's issue I believe) and an Oreo truffle recipe from Better Homes and Gardens. I'll try and post the caramel recipe later. I'll definitely post pictures of the final product (unless I eat them all...must...not...eat...gifts!).

Here's a couple of boxes we hung on the wall. They're both from my mom. She always finds the most beautiful Christmas wrappings.

Ever since we got a table and chairs in the upstairs (or the Tower as I'm fond of calling it), Master Colby thinks it belongs to him. Here he is peaking at me, bleary eyed from one of the chairs. He likes to sit up there with me while work.

And speaking of work, it's so nice to have my own space to create and leave it all out, ready for me to use it again. Before we moved to the Manor, we lived in a garage and there was NO ROOM for anything, much less projects of the paper making kind. Here's a few sheets hanging in front of the bathroom mirror, drying. I plan to tie them in bunches of nine with lace and dried lavender. Lovely...

Last but not least, I think I promised a picture of the Christmas tree. It's kind of small, but here it is! I hope you can see it. It's such a wonderful tree.

I'll be cooking spaghetti tonight for a dear friend. She recently moved and I don't get to see her as much as I'd like. I hope you all have a wonderful week. Any of you making Christmas gifts this year? I'd love to hear about them! I'm making other things besides the truffles and caramels and paper. Stay tuned for more pictures!

Happy Wednesday,

Jen

The First Noel

2009-12-07T18:35:00.000-08:00

"The First Noel is unknown in origin but is generally thought to be English dating back to the sixteenth century. There is a misconception that the First Noel was French and it is believed that this is because of the French spelling of Noel as opposed to the olde English Anglo-Saxon spelling of the word as in Nowell. After England was captured by the Normans numerous words were adopted from the Norman French language and Noel was re-spelt as Nowell, early printed versions of this carol use the Nowell spelling. The First Noel was first published in 1833 when it appeared in "Christmas Carols Ancient and Modern," a collection of seasonal carols gathered by William B. Sandys." ~http://www.carols.org.uk/the_first_noel.htm

The First Noel, the Angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winter's night that was so deep.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!

They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the East beyond them far
And to the earth it gave great light
And so it continued both day and night.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!

And by the light of that same star
Three Wise men came from country far
To seek for a King was their intent
And to follow the star wherever it went.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!

This star drew nigh to the northwest
O'er Bethlehem it took its rest
And there it did both Pause and stay
Right o'er the place where Jesus lay.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!

Then entered in those Wise men three
Full reverently upon their knee
And offered there in His presence
Their gold and myrrh and frankincense.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!

Then let us all with one accord
Sing praises to our heavenly Lord
That hath made Heaven and earth of nought
And with his blood mankind has bought.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!

I love Christmas music. In fact, I've been known to watch "White Christmas" in July and hum Silent Night as early as August (don't hate me!).

~Jen

Christmas Time is Here

2009-12-04T18:24:00.001-08:00

Last weekend we went and got our Christmas tree. It's a bit of a tradition in my family: after turkey, Christmas tree comes.

Friday morning dawned and I was giddy as a little girl. "Christmas tree day!" I sang as we cooked our normal weekend breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast.

Christmas tree farms are magical places. All those potential Christmas trees, waiting, drinking in earth and water. Watching as each person strolls by, puffing out their branches, straightening their trunks, wafting their intoxicating scent. "Pick me!" They cry in unison. "I'll look the best in that corner!" "I'll shine best with your lights." "I'm the tallest!" "I'm the fattest!" On and on they call, on and on we walked...

It was Awesome Photographer Husband who pointed to him. Yes, him. All Christmas trees are male. I do not know how I know this, I just do. I always have. He stood there, proud and tall. His top leaned to the left, there was a bare patch on his right. I looked up, smiled. "He's perfect!"

We had to saw off half of his bottom branches, but finally he was fitted into his tree stand, cool water filled to the rim. Twinkling stars on green cord went round him, round and round from bottom to top. Then the ornaments, bits and baubles we've collected for five years, a few from when I was a bachelorette, fewer still from when I was a child. Candy canes and owls, snowmen and clear, glass bubbles. A gingerbread man who looks as if he's about to fly away; a Santa that looks less than jolly.

The extra branches were placed here and there. In a stocking with some ornaments...

...around a dish, a make-shift wreath, all glimmering blue and silver and sparkling candle light.

Even the tables were decorated, glass balls in vintage bottles, the Christmas magazines pulled from the shelves...

Several branches were put around a nativity in the window, plastic icicles woven in between the branches. A bouquet of glittering silk flowers and a Father Christmas round things out.

We decked the walls and the old record player, vintage bottles standing sentinels amongst the greenery...

The smell of pine needles and lit candles danced in our noses and sugar cookies baked in the oven. I love Christmas tree day. I always have. And I always will.

Happy Season of Christmas,

Jen

PS: I'll post some pictures of the decorated tree soon. My camera won't take a good picture of it without a flash and the flash blows everything out! I'll have to get APH to send me one of his :)

Excuses, excuses

2009-12-02T05:41:00.001-08:00

Hello dear bloggy friends!

I do apologize for missing my usual Tuesday post, but I had a bit of an adventure on my way to tea. I do hope you will drop by and read about what happened yesterday. All I wanted was to find my lost fur (the one Bogart gave me) and I ended up in an enchanted wardrobe. The first part of the adventure can be read here, the conclusion can be found here. It was quite an exciting few hours, but I made it safe and sound to Mr. Toast's tea.

I trust your Thanksgiving's were wonderful (for those of you who celebrated) and your weekends were grand :)

Ciao,
Jen

PS: what is it about a simple tea party that can cause so many adventures? curious...

Update from The Manor

2009-11-24T17:47:00.000-08:00

Mmm...the smell of gingerbread baking in the oven. It's a sign the holidays are upon us. Thanksgiving day is a time to be thankful for the blessings and bounty of the year. This year, my husband and I find ourselves especially thankful. For four of the five years we've been married, we lived with my in-laws. What was supposed to be a few months in a converted garage turned in to much, much longer. We prayed, begged, bartered, all but stole to get a home of our own. Year after year, this prayer went unanswered. Or did it? I like to think it was a wait...not yet...nope...uh-uh.... Until September. I made an out of the blue call to a friend of mine and asked if there were any lofts available where she lived. She said she thought there was one. There was. This was on a Tuesday. On Thursday we went by for a peek. On Friday we signed the papers. A week later, we were in our own place. Funny isn't it? We can pray for years for something and when the time is right, it happens so fast it makes your head spin!

I found some pictures of the Manor (it's a loft but I have high aspirations and a very fertile imagination) and thought it appropriate to post a little thanksgiving tour. A harvest Open House if you will.

This hangs next to the front doors

(we have double, green, metal doors that lead from the Manor to the outside world).

It's a wonderful reminder that we're not alone.

Walking around the main building the houses 11 of the 16 lofts,

the trees are aglow with Autumnal splendor

I got a little crafty this Halloween and created the banner
which only, sadly, this picture gives a tiny peek

Happy little black cat!

Before we got Master Colby, this little fellow

was our feline companion for the witching season

Sugar and spice and everything nice!

I found this old spice rack at my grandmother's church bazaar

about two years ago. I paid a whopping 50 cents for it!

Apples and pears.

Definite signs of the season.

Awesome Photographer husband and I both LOVE to cook.

This is just a portion of the recipe collection we've amassed.

The rest are in three ring binders in the cupboard.

You can't see it, but on top of the main cookbook selection

sits a program from Alton Brown's Good Eats ten year anniversary celebration.

AP husband and I got to go and see it filmed at the Cobb Energy Center in Atlanta, GA.

Do I even need to tell you how awesome that show was?

Look! Up the stairs!

A rare photo of Master Colby's face.

He's the most camera shy cat I've ever known.

The minute he sees you have a camera, he turns his face and refuses to look!

If he wasn't a guy I'd swear he was a diva!

I bought this key years before we moved into the Manor.

I've always harbored a deep love and fascination for old keys.

This one conjured up images of magic wardrobes and

mysterious boxes filled with treasure. And a home of my own.

Just a small portion of the large collection of books I have.

AP husband was putting them all away, pulling them out of boxes,

stacking them on shelves and exclaimed, "Where do you find this stuff?!"

I think it was when he found a gigantic "Complete Shakespeare".

"I don't know," I said, shrugging, "they just follow me home."

Two hundred year old wood floors.

An espresso cup and saucer set purchased at a yard sale for $2.00

Fresh ground coffee on a Saturday morning.

Priceless.

My mother instilled within me a deep love for crafts.

After a neighbor bestowed upon us heaps and heaps of hot peppers,

I thought it best to preserve them in vinegar.

I added a couple of cloves of garlic and...well,

let's just say you want several glasses of water to go with this vinegar!

A little something I'm cooking up for my soon-to-be Etsy shop!

I love owls.

I love fabric.

I inherited a virtual library of vintage fabric from AP's grandmother.

I've been stitching for months now and there's not end in sight!

A little pillow and an attempt at hand stamped "ribbon"

May your Thanksgiving Day be blessed, full of family and friends, feasting and fun. May you eat more turkey than you can hold, drown your mashed potatoes in gravy, watch at least one parade/football game and laugh until you think that turkey is going to come back for a second round. And may you all pause for just a moment and remember the things you have to be thankful for. I'm sure, if we thought hard enough, we could write a book on those things alone.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,

Jen

Food: Celebration, Sustinence, Much Needed Overhaul

2009-11-19T06:26:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is next week. I think I saw some turkey plates and napkins last night at an undisclosed shopping center (you know, the one done up in red and white with bulls eyes on every tag?) Honestly, I didn't let it bother me. I love Thanksgiving. I love Christmas. I'm glad they happen within a month of each other. It's nice to feel like I have two months of celebrating to do. Of course, I like to count Halloween in with the holiday festivities and if you tag on New Year's you have four holidays together that are all about fun, gathering together, and food.

Ah, yes. Food. Nourishment. Sustenance. These are the words that spring to mind when I see a plate of homemade pasta, a bubbling cauldron of stew, a loaf of bread still warm and steamy from the oven. What does not come to mind is anything wrapped in plastic, cardboard, or housed in a freeze dried box. That's called eating on the fly. Sadly, it's what most of us have come to regard as "lunch" and "dinner".

I've said this before (and I'll probably say it again): I know life has become hectic. There are so many out there who long for a slower pace but are unable, for whatever reason, to attain it at the moment. And yes, there are those who don't want it. I think they just haven't slowed down long enough to know they want it, but I digress :)

There are things about my own life I cannot change right now. I work in an office with wonderful people but I am a slave to my desk and a wringing, impatient phone. The calls are 7 times out of 10 wrought with frustration, impatience and annoyance. I understand business must go on. But so does life.

I eat at my desk. My break doesn't come until 3 and my metabolism will not allow me to wait that long to eat. So my lunch is usually punctuated with the shrill ringing of phone and the request from a co-worker. For thirty minutes every day, I get to breathe. If it's sunny (or moderately dry) I go outside and I do not care how hot or cold it is. I need the fresh air, the sunlight, the misty rain on my lips and fingertips. I need to partake of something sustaining. Food nourishes the body; nature nourishes the soul.

Not only are we running at break neck speed, past healthy meals and communion around the table, we are blind to the beauty around us. There are acres of trees changing garments, showing off and showing out before they don their drab, peasants' garb of winter. Do we see the tree aflame in the early morning light? Do we see the field awash in a silver mist? Or do we only see brake lights, hear horns honking, feel anger and possibly rage?

Guilty. Loud gets noticed. It's a pitiful fact. Throw a fit and the world will know about it. Weep behind locked doors and no one will be the wiser, coming to you the minute you emerge with problems of their own.

There is strength in silence, my friend. Strength to be found in the peaceful hours before dawn, in the stirring of a pot of homemade tomato sauce, in partaking of bread and wine with a loved one. Would I love to do this every day? Make a home cooked meal, grind my own wheat for a fresh loaf of bread once a week? Roll out my lasagna noodles on my counter instead of dumping them from a box? You bet I would. But I have yet to reach that point in my life. Until then (and yes, I will make it there), I set aside one afternoon a week in which to make a life. One afternoon, after work, for kneading and stirring and chopping and cork-popping. It makes an ordinary day seem extraordinary. And for a few, blissful hours I can sip of what will be.

*image found here

The Bookbinder

2009-11-17T16:41:00.000-08:00

The swish-swishing of her skirt brushed her ankles with melodious comfort. She smiled, her bare feet pattering across the worn floorboards. It was still dark, morning's light at least another hour off. The kettle was on and the water was just beginning to dance. Poured into the battered ceramic mug -the one with the chip out of the handle- it opened up the tea leaves, the jasmine petals, sending the exotic fragrance upward, up the staircase before her.

Pit-pat went her feet. She sat the mug down on the table and ran her hands across it's smooth surface, worn shiny with age and use. The board had been found at an estate sale, pulled up from a cellar, cast aside for the garbage pick up later in the day. They'd given it to her, said it was of no use to them. Lovingly she brought it back to life, gently rubbing beeswax over the lines and grooves. Stories were etched in it's fibers and she strained hard to hear them in that early morning stillness. If only she knew the language she'd be able to understand it's tales, enjoy the ruminations of the forgotten once tree.

Upon its back she placed the supplies: leather, waxed thread, needle, end papers. The paste was oatmeal thick, coating first one side of the chip board, then the other. Finely textured the papers were laid, bone folded and smoothed. An awl punched holes, almost evenly, down the spines of carefully folded papers. Some of their edges were torn, some were smooth, herbs in that one, threads of a favorite yarn in this one. It came together, slowly, as the sun rose and the mist burned off the autumn leaves. The leather, supple to her nimble fingers, conformed to the boards, binding to the codices. The clamp in place, she sat back and smiled. Another volume bound, waiting for someone's stories. Her trade labeled her "bookbinder" but she knew herself to be one who fashioned keepers of dreams.

Nourishment

2009-11-12T06:39:00.000-08:00

Squirrels abound in the autumn months, searching for buried treasure under oak trees. Bears fill up on deer and fish, readying their bodies for a long winter's nap. Animals know that fall is a time for preparation, when harvest comes to a close and winter's chill approaches. They seek out nourishment, collect food for the long winter to come.

We human animals have long forgotten what it means to rest and nourish the body and soul. Modern life has taken from us the rhythms of the seasons, of sunup and sundown. Instead of resting during the dark months, we trudge on, up the ladder, through the walls, in spite of our bodies begging us to slow down, pause, to stop.

While most of us can't make our own schedules, we can make changes that will help us take back, bit by bit, the natural way of things. The way our bodies, on a primitive level, need, long for, and desire.

Over the past few years, I've been researching slower cultures. There is no perfect place on this planet, this is a fact. But I believe that older (and wiser) cultures, which have the benefit of thousands of years of trial and error, have a lot to teach our young and perilously impressionable nation. As an amateur (and hopefully, one day, professional) cultural anthropologist, I am fascinated by every culture, moved by some ritual or some tradition that seems to project a slower, gentler time. They can all teach us something valuable about live, about ourselves. But the one culture that has resonated with me is that of Europe, especially of the United Kingdom, France and Italy. I love the rural countrysides, the old-world cities, the accents and whirlwind of the old colliding with the new. But what really has captured my attention is their culture that revolves around food.

I've been wanting to do a series centered around food and culture for quite some time now. What better time to begin the slow resurrection of the senses than autumn? Especially with Thanksgiving two weeks away and Christmas around the bend. I have grown weary of fast food, thirty minute lunch breaks and haste in every aspect of our day to day lives. I know there are things that must be done, I understand that we can't all determine our own hours. But what we can do is take the time to prioritize and make an effort to better fuel our bodies while also fueling our souls. I hope you'll join me as I ramble through the woods and fields, the farms and villas of an old world that has captured my imagination and my heart. I hope to do them justice. I hope to learn from them and integrate traditions and menus into my own, harried life. And I hope to have some friends along for the ride :)

Do you have any "slow down" traditions of your own? Have you, too, felt a tugging in your soul to slow down and rest, to follow the rhythms of the natural world? What have you done to rejuvenate your own weary body and mind? I'd love to hear from you on this!

Cheers!
Jen

*Click on photo for original location and photographer credit*

Pause and Enjoy the Moment

2009-11-10T08:17:00.000-08:00

It's raining again. That means traffic. Disgruntled clients. Wet shoes squeak-squeaking down the hall.

*pause*

When I was little, I heard that when the rain hits the pavement, it births a rain fairy. That's the spatter you see. Wings unfurl and for a split second, they are visible to the human eye.

*deep breath*

I can see them now, out my window. They're dancing. The leaves have bowed and offered their stems. A waltz cued up and they are swirling and twirling together on an asphalt dance floor under the roof of heaven.

*smile*

I'm glad it's raining. Traffic means I get a chance to watch the life around me. I can pause and catch the fairies as they wink at me, dissipating into the atmosphere to go and tango with the clouds.

The Holidays are Upon Us

2009-11-05T06:00:00.000-08:00

I was in a large, very popular shopping establishment last night and saw something rather annoying. Christmas trees. Why is that so annoying, you ask? Because there's another holiday that happens before Christmas (one month before Christmas to be precise) that always gets overlooked. Thanksgiving. Whatever happened to Thanksgiving? Giving thanks. Perhaps it's not as important now as it once was, when the summer's harvest was in the barns and cupboards, when people knew if they had not had a prosperous year prior they would have to face a long, cold, hungry winter. Perhaps that rampant disease of consumerism stepped over Thanksgiving because, who goes Thanksgiving shopping? There's the turkeys of course, and the cranberry sauce. But it brings in no revenue? Not like Halloween or Christmas.

Pause.

Thanksgiving. Giving Thanks. What do we have to be thankful for, anyway? True, most of us don't have to bring the crops in before the first frost. Most of us don't have to can and preserve our winter rations. Most of us didn't toil all spring and summer to build a home, a life. Or did we? Spring gives us renewal, rebirth. Summer is time to play. Autumn brings with it a harvest of abundance. We sow our seeds, be they peony's or resumes. We run through sprinklers and catch some sun by the pool. We save our pennies for that latte on Friday.

Our cupboards are full of boxes and cans, our fridges with plastic and Styrofoam. We have heat and air and clean running water. Our children are fed, our pillows are soft, and, if we're really lucky, we have a few moments at the end of the day to breathe deep, put our feet up, sip a hot cider, and dream.

Thanksgiving. It should not be overlooked. Pause. Reflect. After the sugar high and let's pretend of Halloween are through, before the rush of in laws, outlaws, and good old Saint Nick. Take a moment and gather, with those you hold most dear. Hold hands around the table, the sofa, the bonfire on a brisk November night and take a moment to give thanks.

(PS: For one last hurrah of Halloween fun, tromp on over to my Woolgatherings blog and see what fun I had reading tea leaves on All Hallow's Eve ;)

Everything Worth Knowing...

2009-11-03T07:43:00.001-08:00

...I learned at the beach.

It was three years ago, the year before my Dad died. Jon and I went to the beach for a couple of days with my family. We were only able to stay a weekend to their 10 days, but it was a nice get away.

I tend to get all my ideas when I'm near water. Oceans, rivers, streams, lakes, mud puddles, rain storms, tubs, showers. It came as no shock, as I was journaling one night after a stroll on the beach, that I was inundated with quips about life (my life, to be more specific!). Now if only it was as easy to keep these at home as it is on a three day sabbatical to the seaside.

Wake up early with an anticipation for the day
Take the time to stretch as soon as your feet hit the floor
Linger over hot chocolate or tea while reading the Bible or just watching the early morning clouds scuttle by.
Granola bars will keep you for about an hour.
Go for a leisurely walk or bike ride every morning. Don't count miles, calories or fat burned. Explore! And don't turn around until you get hungry.
Cook breakfast - eggs, bacon, scones with pear butter, fresh fruit and juice. It will keep you going for hours (much longer than the granola!)
Find time to do what you love.
Drive just to see what you may discover. Make impetuous stops along the way.
Wear what you like. It's amazing how one outfit can make you feel uncomfortable and awkward and another can make your comfortable in your own skin.
Casual is the way to go.
Take care of yourself but don't fuss. As long as you are alright with you it matters not what others think.
Sit down to eat.
Play hard.
Do cartwheels.
Take as many pictures as you want.
Spend time with friends.
Give random gifts.
Keep things neat and clean but perfection is unnecessary.
Take long walks with your significant other.
Hold hands.
Kiss when you feel like it.
Don't be afraid to ask (or answer) the hard questions and be prepared for the reply.
Be open to wisdom in all its forms and listen for it in the most unlikely of places.
See the extraordinary in the ordinary (and vice a verse).
Do what you do, not to impress but to fulfill your life's call. It's in your heart, let it out!
Everyone has a story to share and wisdom to impart.
Look for treasure.
Take showers during the day. It is refreshing to be clean.
Pause for a long, hot bath.
See the world through the lens of a camera.
Eat dinner together and share recipes.
Be silly.
Give love.
Wear sunscreen.
Things don't matter, time does.

Halloween

2009-10-29T06:21:00.000-07:00

There's a chill in the air when the sun sets down

to rest his head this night.
From the west comes the sound of a thousand souls

bringing with them ghoulish delight.

Over there, what's that!

Why it's only the cat,

named Oliver, he's black you see.

If he crosses your path,

you should probably retract

your paces and run home to be

safe in the arms

of your home without harm

from the beasties that bump 'cross the land.

For on Halloween night,

under full moon's light,

all souls once more take a stand.

Happy haunting!

Jen

PS: The image above is from one of my favorite movies, Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas. If you're staying home this Halloween night, why not cozy up to the telly for some good old fashioned spooky fun :)

Trick or Treat

2009-10-27T06:07:00.000-07:00

The house is lit in orange and gold, the smell of pumpkin spice permeates the air. I walk from room to room, lighting candles, checking windows. It's cold out and I don't want a rogue draft to tip toe in and chill. In the living room, the fire is blazing, and I toss another log on just to be sure. The wind outside is howling, branches scraping the roof of the porch. The jack-o-lanterns are lit, the cobwebs are secured. I wait, a cup of hot cocoa between my hands. An old movie is on, you know, the kind with the old house, haunted by the spirit of a long dead sea captain.

Under a blanket I lie in wait for the first pitter-pat of feet. They come every year, the same time, without fail. Ever since I moved in I've been graced with their presence. On All Hallows Eve, when the clock strikes twelve, a gaggle of ghouls tromps up my front steps. I hear them, voices coming from the dark, whispering and giggling and adjusting masks and sheets. I wait. They shuffle up the steps, making soft sounds, like the wings of tiny birds, very unlike the children from my old neighborhood who would race up to the door and pound.

A tapping on the glass, a soft voice utters, "trick or treat". I smile and make my way to the basket in the foyer. Filled with apples and bread, crackers and cheeses, this is no usual Halloween fare. There's a chocolate or three for each one, but I know what they seek. I open the door, they look up eager, the only house around that welcomes them. No words are exchanged, just the treats. They look into their worn out bags, look up at me and smile through broken masks and tattered sheets. As they turn to go, one little girl rushes back and hugs me, clings to my leg sending a chill up my spine. I pat her head gently, feeling the wisps of her hair, like ice on my cocoa warmed fingers.

"Thank you," she breathes.

"I'll see you next year," I sigh.

I watch them go and the moon comes out, shining full on the little band. As the moon beams cross them, I wrap my blanket about me closer. You think I'd get used to it, the group of spectral children who come from the woods. But every year, as the moon light flows, I can see the trees of the dark forest through them. They turn, they wave, then, in a puff of mist, they are gone.

There is a Soul to Fall

2009-10-22T06:10:00.000-07:00

Spring kisses the earth with sun
Summer wraps her in his arms
Winter whispers dreams
But there is a soul to Fall

Spring steps in gently
The kiss of birth and life anew
Summer rushes by
A tumult of wild abandon
Winter floats lazily
On frost covered wings
But there is a soul to Fall

A soul of mystery, of magic, of mischief
The sun can sink behind a thousand clouds of grey
Or pierce the earth with shafts of light intense
Leaves turn out their festive garb
Coming dressed to kill in hues of unbridled passion

Fall is spontaneity
Beauty in the mountains
Apprehension by the sea
A biting, gentle wind
Which whips imagination into being

Clouds dislodge themselves
Creating spectres along the road
The sky a screaming blue
It rains, it snows
Fall is everything, and nothing
An ending, a beginning

Black cats and pumpkins
Time of giving and giving thanks
In Fall there is a time to reflect
A time to be everything you dream

Campfires, marshmallows
Musty books and mugs of tea
Honey gold and deep, red wine

Fall will kiss you with her frosty lips
And transport you to a land of vision
The land of enchantment
In which we grew up
And of which, too soon, out grew

The is a soul to Fall
If we can capture her
Placing her upon the mantle of our souls
Keeping her spirit kindled despite her outward passion
Maybe we will believe again
Hope in all there is to hope
To accomplish the implausible, improbably, impossible

Welcome her, this biting,
Ripping, gentle, wailing
Frightening, comforting
Chilling soul of Fall

Grubby Candles and Quirky Ravens

2009-10-20T05:37:00.000-07:00

There's a hint of winter in the air. Just a hint, mind you. Autumn is here and for that I am glad. I got a post card in the mail Saturday. A familiar, brown post card that calls to mind crinkly paper bag lunches and the smell of ink, a smell, to me, like a mixture of blood and fresh air. You know, the thick kind that comes in an ink well for those of us who still enjoy the struggle of a dip nib and the eternal stains between thumb and forefinger, tell-tale signs of an old fashioned writer. The post card announced a sale at a shop my parents introduced me to years ago. The Homestead House sits off a quiet street in North Georgia, a 300 year old cabin, converted to house an assortment of rustic goodies and primitive treasures. The card is hand drawn, hand written, and makes me smile every single time I get it.

I don't get to go for every seasonal sale they have. I maybe get up there twice a year. But it's a treat, a time to look forward to. It brings back memories of my father. He loved the spicy smelling candles, you know, the ones that smell like Halloween smacked into Thanksgiving and oozed happily into Christmas. I still have a jar that one of his favorites came it. I don't have the heart to get rid of it. I'm sure I'll up cycle it into something new, something that makes me smile every time I see it.

The porch of Homestead House groans under the weight of boots and trainers. You have to squeeze in single file the door is so small. The original cabin portion of the shop is tiny; hard to imagine a family living there, working, praying, laughing in that small space. People were closer to each other back then. They had no choice! Every available speck of floor is home to the most luscious displays of folk art delights. Woolly sheep, pillows made from feed sacks, various candles and other wax nick-knacks. My husband jokes that if you can dip it in wax and roll it in cinnamon, you can sell it! I have to agree and intend to do just that one day in my own shop. Ravens perch everywhere! On wardrobes, sofas, stair rails, candle holders, iron chandeliers, even the cash register. I was never a fan of the greedy birds, but their handmade counterparts have stolen my heart as easily as the real thing steals the eggs from other nests. I am the proud owner of one such stuffed "nevermore". He sits on the banister, a little paper flag proudly proclaiming "Primitive" under one wing, a spool for a perch.

A narrow hallway connects the old cabin to the newer portion, still drafty, still creaking under foot. Bottle brush trees decorated with stars, hearts, and pumpkins twinkle with Christmas lights year round. In the autumn, everywhere you turn there are apples, pumpkins, weeping willow motifs and black cats. With Cheshire grins the cats play peek-a-boo from cupboards and corners, some even hanging from the rafters.

They wrap your purchases is plain brown butcher's paper. The bags are paper, with a simple stamp on the front proclaiming simply from where your treasures came. There are soaps that smell like home, candles that smell like fog in the mountains, and potpourri that smells oddly like something in between. I can never quite make it out of there without something. "It followed me home" I tell my husband with a sheepish grin. He smiles, shakes his head, and kisses my forehead. Of course it followed me home. But I encouraged it!

I come away from my visits filled to overflowing with ideas. My fingers itch with creative projects that must be completed. I have notebooks filled with them, all sketched out and ready to go for when I have a few idle moments. I intend to fill my days with cinnamon wax candles and quirky little ravens, and as many of their cousins as I can find the time to make. Perhaps one day my shop dreams will go from idea to online to shop around the corner. I wouldn't carry only rustic findings but I can assure you, you won't have to look far to find a little black cat, a few dozen pumpkins, or a candle that smells suspiciously like my father.

image of raven hooked run from Homestead House website

Monday Award Ceremony

2009-10-19T07:12:00.000-07:00

"Thank you, thank you. I'd like to thank the Academy, my agent, and all the co-stars that made this award possible."

*ahem* That would be all of YOU!!

DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom sent me a most fabulous Dragon's Loyalty Award. Wander on over to her blog when you have a moment. Her posts always put a smile on my face and make me day! Thanks DG!

Jen

In Praise of Fall

2009-10-15T06:59:00.000-07:00

My earliest recollection of fall is of a large tree that once stood in my parents back yard. This large, magnificent maple was sadly lost in one of the many random severe storms that happened one summer. Its arms stretched proudly against the sky and swayed softly with the wind. In the spring and summer, its leaves were full and bright; in the winter, bare branches stood out stark against a gunmetal sky. But in the fall, when the first whisper of cooling temperatures could be heard over the sigh of the pines, the maple's branches filled to over flowing with gold, amber and red. this riot of color was set off by the brilliant blue of an early autumn sky. I remember as a child running around the yard trying to catch the leaves from this tree as they fell. They would tumble and topple, tempting my outstretched fingers and then, just as I was about to claim my prize, dodge my eager grasp and flutter to the ground. In all my years of chasing these elusive treasures, I caught (maybe) three, but the fun I had was worth every foiled attempt.

Fall brings with it a quietness, a calm before the winter holiday storm if you will. There are quiet celebrations all over the world during this time of year: harvest festivals to celebrate the blessings of food and friends. Fall is a chance to "thank you" to God for His bountiful care and to friends and family without whom our lives would be dull and barren.

Every season has its share of celebrations, but to me, fall takes the cake! In my opinion, if Christmas and my birthday came in October, fall would be perfect! It brings to mind turning leaves and farmers bringing in the bulk of summer's bounty. The mountains are alive with boldly painted foliage and the music and dancing of a million festivals. Scents of cinnamon and apple and pumpkin spice mingle with the crispness of the early evening air. Herbs are harvested and the wonderful musk of earth is thick on the gardener's hands.

October rolls in with an entourage of black cats, jack-o-lanterns, the call of a raven and the hoot of a barn owl. Kids of all ages relish in the one night out of the year they can be anyone or anything they want, and eat candy until their stomachs pop!

Yes, I adore fall. It's a feast for the senses and I'm here to tempt you to indulge them. Drive north and take in the beauty of the changing leaves. Sit outside at night and feel the cool mist as it rises off the land. Leave your windows open on a cool night and hear the song of the night birds. Feast upon new recipes which will bring a new sense of delight to your holiday table. Breathe deeply while lingering over hot apple pie, fresh burning wood in a bonfire or the slow engulfing of a marshmallow in flames! It's an excuse to celebrate life. Don't let it pass you by.

Cheers!
Jen

(image found here)

Walk in the Rain

2009-10-13T06:15:00.000-07:00

Her feet were bare but no matter. The water would wash away the dirt and grime from a long, hard day. A day of high heels and pressed khakis. A day of waiting for the phone to ring just so she could listen to someone else complain about a fax not working, an email not receiving, a monitor screen turned sideways.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of autumn rain. Her eyes closed and she exhaled, letting out the stress and frustration of her day. The wind picked up, blew leaves about her, sticking them to her ankles, her knees. Her skirt was wet about an inch up from the hem. She pulled her yellow rain coat about her and stepped out into the mist.

On cue, the clouds opened up and she was caught in a deluge, blurring the world around her, turning the trees, the ivy covered wall into a water color painting. She crossed the brick walkway to the parking lot, to where the rain ran in a small river down hill to the trees which divided her loft from the outside world. The sparrows which resided in the ivy twittered and fluttered in vain attempts to keep their feathers dry. The water ran over her feet, between her toes. A red maple leaf stuck briefly beside her then continued on to the puddle which would be it's final resting place.

She sighed and pushed back her hood. Stretching out her arms, she looked up into the heavens and let the rain wash away everything but that deepest portion of her soul, the part she had to suppress in her day to day. Now she was free. Now she could breathe. Now she was.

(image found here)

Commonplace

2009-10-09T04:26:00.000-07:00

Commonplace Book: (n) a book in which noteworthy quotations, comments, etc. are written.

My Thursday posts (um...Friday?!) are intended to be just that. Little vignettes (snippets if you will) of seasonal delights for your enjoyment.

October

Autumn Ingredients for Fall Recipes ~ From the Farm Stand

One of the first things I enjoy doing when the weather starts to get a wee bit cooler is to stop by a local produce stand. The deep colors of pumpkins and squash, the aroma of cider and boiled peanuts wafting to your nostrils as soon as you step out of your car...there's no way you can't help but smile! Potted mums sit atop hay bales, scarecrows with humorous grins slouch in rocking chairs, stuffed ravens clinging to their shoulders. I ooh and ahh at the gourds, deliberate between types of apples, and always (ALWAYS) find a way to carry home a bag of boiled peanuts (a sacred and necessary vegetable here in the South). Indian corn stands in rows of maroon, black, yellow and white and I'm in the mood for fall! Once I'm home, my arms laden with brown paper bags, the fun begins in figuring out just what on earth to do with all this bounty. Here's a few ideas I've gathered ~

Apples ~ baked, fried, sauced with cinnamon, heated in a cider, as a side dish with pork and, of course, in a pie

Squash ~ stuffed into ravioli, baked with butter and brown sugar

Root Veggies ~ parsnips with herb butter, herb roasted chicken with a variety of root veg (carrots, potatoes)

Hearty Greens ~ broccoli, chard, bruschetta topped with spinach or collards

Potatoes ~ baked, fried, champ, bubble and squeak, au gratin, potato salad, pan roasted with rosemary and sea salt, french fries, hash browns, basting in the juice of a succulent roast

Pears ~ baked with cinnamon and brown sugar, poached, stuffed with a bitter cheese such as Gorgonzola, caramelized, raw with a selection of cheeses, along side crisp apples, part of an impromptu smorgasbord of fruits, cheese and wine

Speaking of cider, here's an interesting idea. Have a go at making Lambswool. I promise, no carding, spinning or knitting is required. Lambswool is a special type of wassail (a spiced punch usually made with liquor) which combines roasted apples, raw sugar, grated nutmeg, and shaved ginger with warm, strong ale and served with tiny sweet-cakes floating on its surface. I'm a sucker for cider but I have yet to try this one. It's an old recipe but sounds like just the thing to warm your spirits on a chilly autumn night. I for one would forgo the floating cakes; I hate soggy bread!

Lambswool was usually drunk on 01 November in celebration of the fruits and seeds of the harvest and the spirits which, the ancients believed, watched over them. Sounds like a good libation for a Halloween party, no? This day, known by other names such as All Saints Day and Samhain, was known as "la mas ubal" (pronounced "lamasool" and later "lambswool") which means "The Day of the Apple".

I know we're a month away from "la mas ubal" but there's no harm in brewing up a good old cauldron of Lambswool for all your autumn celebrations. Give it a try this fall, but remember: drink responsibly and you can always do an unleaded version by leaving out the ale. I for one would like to try it both ways. Let me know if you make some! I'm curious :) The closest I've come to having Lambswool was a Hot Toddy in Ireland. Talk about cider with a kick! If that doesn't cure what ails you, I don't know what will.

Have a wonderful weekend, Jen

PS: I just posted the first of a series of posts on Halloween over at my other blog, The Gypsy Scribe. Stop by and take a peak :)

It's Good to be Back

2009-10-06T06:55:00.000-07:00

Good morning!

A long rest was just the thing I needed to get my creative juices back in action. I've been working on several new projects at "The Manor" and there are stories a'brewing in my head. I feel like one of those witches in the old Halloween films, standing over a bubbling cauldron. Only instead of eye of newt and leg of worm, I'm chanting adjectives and cursing dangling participles and writer's block!

I hope you are all doing well. It's a lovely grey Tuesday here in Georgia and fall is definitely in the air. The leaves are just beginning to turn. Harvest time is here and people are gearing up for Halloween celebrations, Fall Festivals and Harvest Home gatherings.

I've had wonderful feed back so far on my new blog designs! I thought the vintage Halloween background would make for a whimsical touch for the month of October. I'm initiating a new posting schedule for this blog (Tuesdays and Thursdays) and will be posting on my other two on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I do hope you'll join me at each of those. The links are on the side bar (The Gypsy Scribe and Woolgathering).

Instead of waxing poetical about nothing in particular (a rather Lewis Carroll habit I have cultivated over the years), I thought I'd start this season out with a note of thanks and a little trip down memory lane:

I was raised to love simple things: wood burning stoves, collecting rocks while driving down old dirt roads. We used to pile in the van on Saturdays, stop by the "Cupboard" for a Coke, a Dr. Pepper, two Sprites, peanuts and cream filled crackers. Dad would pour the peanuts into his Coke, Mom would lazily sip her Dr. Pepper, and my sister and I would lick the cream out from between the cookies then toss the empty chocolate shells out of the open windows. Food for the birds, we reasoned. We made up songs about boiled peanuts and groaned when our parents would put in cassettes of that "mountain music". We grew up with vegetable gardens, hammered dulcimers, playing Indians. We bought stuffed black bears and drums every year from Pigeon Forge and erasers that smelled like school boxes from China Berry General Store. Grilled cheese at Cracker Barrel, off the beaten path herb gardens in Shaker and Amish country, old quilts, hurricane lamps, dried flowers from Maine. These things and more-rocking chairs, old Coca Cola crates, Moon Pies-pull me back to the past, to my family, to what really matters. Here's to you, Mom and Dad: Thanks for raising me to love old things and country back roads. And thanks to Boochie, for painting your face red with lipstick and riding the Rudy Coaster 42 times in a row! (Love, Sissy)

Hope your fall is filled with happy memories. Here's to making many, many more.

Cheers!

Jen

Stay Tuned...

2009-10-05T07:13:00.000-07:00

I do hope everyone is well! I start my new posting schedule tomorrow. I'll be back in the nest and ready to fly! (Does that even make sense?) I look forward to "seeing" you here again soon :) I have updated my other blogs as well. They are on a different schedule that this one so wander on over and take a peak if you like! The links are on the side bar. Let me know what you think about all my "remodeling".

Happy Monday,

Jen

Pause and Reflect

2009-09-20T14:39:00.000-07:00

I know, it's not like I've been this diligent poster or anything, but I will be taking a mini blog-cation for the next two weeks. It's time to re-think my blogs and what it is I'm doing with them, where I want them to go, what I want them to communicate. I appreciate your patience and I do hope to see you here again, bright and early on Monday 05 October when I plan to be back in action, better than ever! You'll still see me around, though. I'll be reading and commenting so never fear. I won't be too far away!

Have a safe, blessed, and happy two weeks!!

Until October,
Jen

Wednesday Wanderings

2009-09-16T07:12:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it's the cooler weather, the promise of changing leaves, or the simple fact I'm cooped up in an office for 8 hours a day, but I've been battling incurable wanderlust for the past few days! Though I can't travel physically (I was denied a week off in October, even though I requested it in early August), I figured I'd ramble around via the Internet. Lo and behold, what did my wandering eyes see this morning but an email in my inbox filled with travel ideas. Coming from Southern Living Magazine, the weekend getaways and road trips were all for the south, which suits me just fine, considering I live in Georgia.

Now this got me to thinking: maybe I'm not able to go away for a week, but why not a weekend? Or, dare I mention it, a day? So I pulled on my boots, logged on to Google, and decided to do a little travel hunting for my area. I honestly didn't expect to find much. I mean, sure, North Georgia has the mountains and South Georgia has Savannah, but what about we poor souls stuck in the middle? Well, lookey what I found:

First off, who knew there were this many fall festivals in Georgia?

It's nothing spectacular, but my new home town of Hampton has the Bear Creek Festival every September.

I grew up going to Callaway Gardens but I've only recently discovered how much fun the rest of Pine Mountain can be!

And of course, what's a trip to Georgia without a trip to Stone Mountain? For the past five years, my husband and I have been going to the Indian Festival and Pow Wow that's held every November in the park. Not that you'd know it by looking at us, but Jon and I both have Native American blood and it's so wonderful to see first hand how these beautiful people are keeping their traditions alive. They are also huge supporters of veterans and since my father was a Vietnam Vet, part Native American, and lost his life thanks to exposure to Agent Orange, this festival is especially dear to my heart.

Up the interstate we go, to the North Georgia mountains! They ain't the Rockies, and I used to bemoan that fact, until I learned that the Smokey and the Appalachian Mountains are much, much older than the West's lofty peaks. Huh...who knew?

This place is gorgeous! Even without a lot of rain fall to get it going, Amicalola Falls is a spectacular site! The hike to the top is strenuous (especially in the snow!) but it's completely worth the sore knees :)

Dahlonega is just another one of those places I grew up going to without truly appreciating the history of small town life.

In the mood for a little wine tasting?

Tiger Mountain Vineyards : "Tiger Mountain Vineyards is nestled on a hillside high up in Rabun County, on the rocky, sunny slopes of the North Georgia mountains. Our vineyard is small, the vines individually tended and the grapes hand-picked for quality. Our red wines are barrel-aged 18 to 24 months. Visit the vineyards and enjoy barrel-room tastings!"

Frogtown Cellars : "Frogtown is a 57 acre wine estate located at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains equal distance between Dahlonega and Cleveland Georgia. Frogtown encompasses 40 acres of vineyards and a tri-level gravity flow winery specifically designed to produce the unique wines made from Frogtown grapes.In 1998, native Atlantans Craig and Cydney Kritzer founded Frogtown in a location carefully selected for quality wine grape production and outstanding mountain views, the Frogtown District of Lumpkin County, Georgia. After researching Frogtowns soil, diverse climates and terrain, Craig divided the land up into separate vineyards. He planted different wine grape varieties based on the characteristics of each vineyard site. Frogtown is now home to 40 acres of vineyards planted to 17 different wine grapes varieties, both red and white."

Three Sisters Vineyards and Winery :"Three Sisters Vineyards & Winery is a small family farm situated on a hundred and eighty acres in the heart of the Frogtown District in historic Lumpkin County, Georgia. Located eight miles northeast of the site of the first major US gold rush, Dahlonega, the farm's name was inspired by the property's spectacular view of Lumpkin County's Three Sisters Mountain. While no one knows the origin of the name of Three Sisters Mountain, local residents refer to its three distinctive peaks as Wild Cat, McBrayer, and Rattlesnake. Established in 1996 and bonded in 2000, Three Sisters Vineyards is Lumpkin County's first vineyard since prohibition and holds the distinction of being 'Dahlonega's First Family Farm Winery'."

Of course, I can't leave out Chateau Elan, North Georgia's Spa, Vineyard and Golf Course getaway. One of these days, I'm going to have to treat myself :)

Once upon a time, Sautee was a dot on the road map and an accidental find on the way to the bustling Alpine town of Helen. It's grown up, just a bit, but the charm I remember from my childhood days rambling the hills with my parents and sister is still there, in overflowing quantities. Just don't drive too fast, or you'll miss it!

Two of my favorite places in the whole world are The Homestead House and Hearts and Flowers. To a less discerning eye, they don't look like much, just old log cabins sitting on the side of the road. But for me, they hold more memories than I can stand of a childhood filled with pumpkin spice candles, running wild in rivers and streams, and painting my face red with lipstick so my sister and I would be real, bonafide Indians! Not to mention my mother frequents them at least once a season and, being the good daughter I am, I certainly can't let her go without a chaperon ;) It's practically impossible to go in either of these shops and leave without at least a spice scented candle in your grasp! Or a stuffed raven. Or a sachet filled with Sweet Annie. Or...

That should be enough to get me started. There's so much more out there than you imagine. Too many times, on the quest for new and exciting, we overlook our own home towns and the surrounding areas. What gems have you discovered on the back roads and byways of your home state?

Happy traveling!
Jen

Monday Musings

2009-09-14T06:16:00.000-07:00

"All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible."
~ T.E. Lawrence

Here's to being dangerous!
Jen

The Moment You've All Been Waiting For!

2009-09-08T15:49:00.001-07:00

OK, well, maybe not all of you, but I'm sure excited to be posting these!!! It took me a week from moving in to get these babies up, but I finally got them uploaded to my computer (we have Internet access, hoozah!) and re sized (a feat not for the faint of heart) and voila! Welcome, to our new home. Or, as well like to call it, The Manor.

Boxes abound as we begin to slowly move stuff in. We started a week and a half ago on a Friday, but didn't get the U-Haul until that following Sunday.

That's the view from the living area looking into the kitchen. The box you see is our pantry. On top of the box is a spot I intend to turn into a writing/prayer sanctuary. First, I have to find a ladder...

This is the view from the front door, through the boxes and trash and into the kitchen. The sofa acts as a divider between entryway and living space. You can see our dining area just this side of the bar and the kitchen beyond that.

Um, yeah, so I have a thing for books. I'm thinking about going for therapy. But there are worse things I could be addicted to. Drugs, alcohol, shoes...

Things finally started taking shape. My wonderful, awesome husband filled up those bookshelves. Yes. There are still more on the floor, but that's irrelevant. Look at the shelves, look at the shelves :)

The sitting area in full bloom. All our furniture has been given to us so it's quite a hodgepodge of colors and patterns. It's not our taste, but hey, it gets the job done! And I'm very thankful for the gifts :)

Ah, that's better. Neatly stacked books on shelves and floor beneath a map of the world. What better way to spend a rainy afternoon than in the company of books?

Here's our living space. The bookshelf under the window is filled with magazines. Another addiction. I'm not seeking help for that one. My rosemary and burnet plants are thriving in the window. I can't wait to make some vinegar soon!

This is the upstairs "studio" area of the loft. It's a big open room with a small bedroom and second bath adjacent to it (to the right). It will serve as my art studio and the small bedroom will be my husband's office. The closet is going to become a dark room.

This is the master bath. Oooh, I've never said that before in regards to a place I lived. The tub is heaven! I lived without one for four years. In the garage we only had a shower. I never knew what a luxury a bath tub was until I went without. Now I could drown happily beneath scented bubbles and hot water :)

This is the kitchen sans boxes. The red is actually growing on me. It's more of a maroon than a true red and it goes well with the charcoal grey of the cabinets. Which, by the way there are a LOT of! And did I mention I have a gas stove! Ah, the simple pleasures of life.

Another view of the living area. The plain chair is actually going in a nook in our bed room. I had pictures of the bedroom and several others of the rest of the loft but, alas, photo shop ate them!

This is the view from upstairs in the studio. That part to the left is the pantry where I want to make my sanctuary. Funny story! Our loft was actually used to film an HGTV show several years ago. No one recalls the name of the show but the company that filmed it was Loft 5 productions. Anyway, they had a three piece band that stood up on the pantry and played! Three guys and their instruments can get up there, I know little ol' me can!

There you have it! That's a brief tour of our loft...er...The Manor! As soon as we get all the boxes and trash out, I'm going to do one more photo shoot of The Manor. Also, the town is so neat. It's chock full of inspiration! I can't wait to start using it in my stories.

I hope you all had a marvelous weekend! Enjoy this four day work week! I know I will!

Cheers!

Jen

Ahhhh...the Three Day Weekend

2009-09-04T05:53:00.000-07:00

There's something about Friday that gets my heart singing. Perhaps it's the thought that tomorrow I don't *have* to get out of bed until I'm good and ready. Funny how during the week I groan and moan at stepping out from under my warm covers but come Saturday I'm up with the chickens! (That's southern for really early.)

The Three Day Weekend doesn't come around that often and since I went back to full time work, I hunger and thirst for them. It's come as such a blessing this time, falling closely on the heels of our move. The loft is coming along faster than I'd anticipated. The kitchen is finished and by this evening, our gas will be hooked up and we'll be able to cook on our gas stove! Not only that, but we'll have hot water and can shower. I do hope the gas company shows as planned; the fate of all mankind is at stake...

Pictures, I have not forgotten. Things have been so hectic at home that I have not had a spare moment to upload them. My laptop is itching to get back to work and I'll oblige this weekend by posting some pictures and catching up on my blog reading (apologies to all who haven't seen much of me online in the past week :)

Whatever you choose to do this long weekend, may you have a safe, happy, blessed and FUN Labor Day! See you back here soon, hopefully much more rested than I am now.

Cheers!
Jen

Beautiful Respite in an Over-Crowded Day

2009-09-02T07:37:00.001-07:00

If you have a moment, take a breather, go off by yourself, or sit quietly at your computer and drink deep from the fountain of wisdom that is A Holy Experience. Her post today is about building a house of prayer. Every post is a beautiful refreshment, a gentle reminder to take things slow, the cherish life, and to give praise to the One who made it. Take a peak. Close your eyes and let the music wash over you. Take from it only what you need. Leave behind what's burdening you at the altar of the everyday. Remember: He's always with you. Your desk can be an altar, a confessional, a choir loft. Whatever you need today, I pray you receive it.

Cheers!
Jen

September

2009-09-02T07:09:00.000-07:00

Grey and dismal, in came September,
on the heels of an unbidden storm

The clouds they rolled with a grumble of thunder
but the rain refused to fall

Visions of autumn dance in my head,
of fire lit evenings and blazing colored leaves

The taste of orchards on my tongue,
the scent of wood smoke on my sleeve

A walk in the woods under a brilliant azure sky
is a ghost of a memory

Held up against the back drop of a blissful, grey, dismal,
first September day.

Cheers!

Jen

PS: This little ditty is the post for today on my other blog as well :)

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cream Pies

2009-09-01T07:37:00.000-07:00

*drum roll please*

Ta-da! Here's my published recipe for Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cream Pies. I will warn you that these are very addictive and I've had friends eat themselves sick because they were unable to stop putting hand to mouth. Of course, that may be a lack of self control on their part, but I like to think it's all a part of my plot to take over the world, one cookie at a time!

I've always loved oatmeal cream pies. When I was a kid, my favorite snack cake was those little pies that came wrapped in plastic in a long white box with the words "Little" and "Debbie" written in blue down the side. One day, while perusing through my cookbook collection, I had an idea. What if I took oatmeal cream pies and added a bit of chocolate chips to them? The result? The Queen of cookies!

What you'll need:

1-1/4 c. butter, softened 1-1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. brown sugar, firmly packed 1 t. baking soda
1/2 c. sugar 1/2 t. salt
1 egg 1/4 t. cinnamon (though no one will mind if you put more!)
1 t. vanilla extract 3 c. quick-cooking oats, uncooked
1 t. rum or rum extract 12-oz. package of semi-sweet chocolate chips

Beat butter and sugars together with a hand mixer until creamy. Add your egg, vanilla and rum. Beat until incorporated. Whisk together your flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon in a large bowl. Stir in the oats and chocolate chips. Add your dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and mix until well blended (a wooden spoon works great for this!). Drop dough by rounded tablespoonful (or heaping handful) two inches apart on parchment lined or well greased baking sheets. Bake at 375 degrees for about 8 minutes. I like my cookies gooey. If you like a more crunchy cookie, bake a few minutes longer. Set aside to cool.

While your cookies are cooling, whip up your cream filling!

1/2 c. butter, softened
2 c. powdered sugar
1 to 2 T. whipping cream
1/2 t. vanilla extract
1/2 t. rum or rum extract

With your electric mixer on medium speed, combine all your ingredients until well blended. Increase mixer speed to high and beat until fluffy. Cream will be nice and thick and gooey. Yum!

Start with a tablespoon of cream for each cream pie. You can always add more if there's extra in the bowl. Or, like me, you can just take the bowl and a big spoon and eat any extra. Come on; you've earned it!

Cheers!
Jen

PS: you can find the cookbook version in the Gooseberry Patch cookbook, Christmas with Family and Friends

Weekend in Review

2009-08-31T07:35:00.001-07:00

Good morning everyone!

First off, thank you to all of you for the well wishes and good luck for our move. You guys are awesome! It's been a HUGE project but we almost have everything in. Now starts the process of going through every single box and deciding if the stuff we've accumulated over the past five years is worth keeping or if we'll be making a trip to Goodwill next weekend!

I don't have pictures today because we don't have our Internet connection up yet. However, pictures aplenty have been taken and I can't WAIT to post them! I do, however, have one I can post:

My husband picked up the keys to the loft on Friday. Instead of calling me, he sent me this picture. Yes. That is a gigantic map of the world. It's almost two stories tall and occupies one wall in our loft. According to Loft Lore, as told to us last night by our neighbor, the former occupant used the loft to film a variety show for HGTV. The map was a backdrop. We're not sure of everything that was done on the show, but there was a cooking segment performed by local chefs in every episode. Seeing that my husband and I both are HUGE Food Network junkies, this is great news indeed!

Our neighbors are the most helpful and friendly I've ever met! They came over and brought fresh baked cookies and then helped unload the U-Haul. I'm not making this up! It's the perfect community setting. Every one's super friendly but not nosy. My good friend lives four doors up from us and her daughter is just around the corner in a loft of her own. The city of Hampton has done a lot of work making Main Street look better and they have musicians on Friday nights at the old train depot as well as festivals and craft fairs on weekends throughout the year. The park is just a two block walk from our front door so I'm expecting to get in better shape now that I have someplace to walk without the risk of death by dirt inhalation (or crazy drivers down narrow dirt road careening around corners and over hills!).

It's quiet and if you hear anything from your neighbors on either side of you it's a dog barking or a group of friends laughing. I know, I'm idealizing, right? I've only been there a total of two days as an official resident. We have yet to actually sleep there as we haven't had our gas service connected. Yes. I have a gas stove! Do you have any idea the happy dance I did when I discovered that? Just an added blessing. I grew up cooking with real fire and, while they are a pain to clean, I relish every single moment of struggling with taking the eyes apart and getting the crumbs out from around the gas light. Real food demands real fire underneath!

We were able to take a bit of a break on Saturday. Jon bought us tickets a month or so ago for the tenth anniversary filming of Good Eats. This show is a riot! I love cooking shows in general, but NOTHING beats Alton Brown's quirky take on food and life in general. What? You've never heard of Alton Brown!! Get thee here now!

After watching people blow up water coolers and spray paint pancakes with icing (yes, stuff like that amuses me), we moved everything out of the garage to our loft in an unexpected monsoon! It started flooding right as we began loading the truck, let up for the drive to the lofts, and began again as we unloaded. How kind of the clouds to think we needed cooling off! Hey, the floors needed mopping anyway.

This week will be busy, unpacking boxes, finding a place for everything, making it feel like home.

Home. What a wonderful word. One with which I'm going to get very well acquainted in the upcoming weeks.

Happy Monday all!

Jen

Friday Frivolities

2009-08-28T06:45:00.001-07:00

Happy Happy Weekend!

Lessons I've Learned in the Past Week

2009-08-24T06:48:00.001-07:00

- It feels good to see your name in print

- Perspective is everything

- You CAN make it to work on a 1/4 tank of gas

- Oranges look pretty on your desk and make you look healthy

- My new ring tone is ridiculous

- The right name makes all the difference

- Dreams really can come true...

...after five years of being married (1 of which was spent in perhaps the worst apartment complex ever and 4 spent in a garage graciously sacrificed for our well being by my mother and father in law), Jon and I are MOVING!!!

A friend of mine (whom I have known for over 12 years) has lived in the most spectacular lofts for the past 5 years. Every time I go to visit her, I am amazed at the peace and creativity that surrounds her home. Last Tuesday, I sent her an email, just to check in, to see how things were going. On a lark, I asked if there were any lofts available and she said there was one, sent us her landlord's phone number and told us to call. We didn't have to be told twice. We went to look at the loft on Thursday. The landlord (who is a WONDERFUL lady) remembered us and took us on a tour of a fabulous loft. We wandered around, blown away by the space and the quiet environment. She asked us if we liked it. She asked us if we wanted to move in September first! Long story short, after an enthusiastic YES, some paperwork and twelve hours of waiting for the official "yes", we're moving! This weekend to be precise!

Things have a way of happening all at once. I warned my husband of that when we first got married. Any time in my life when something big was to happen, it would happen at the drop of a hat, the last possible moment you think anything big or momentous is going to happen. Thus, after only a week and a half of inquiring about the lofts, we're moving in!

This week should prove to be a busy one, but I do so like to be busy. We've got to box everything up, take care of all the legal issues that moving entails, rent a U-Haul, pack and unpack and then go back and clean the garage. And we have to find an evening to take my mother and father in law out to dinner. Seems such a tiny thank you for such a huge gift as allowing us to monopolize their recently refurbished garage for four years.

As soon as possible, I'll be posting some pictures! I can't wait to see where this new adventure will lead!!

Have a great week, everyone and now, if I don't post regularly this week, you know I have a really good excuse!!

Jen
PS: if you read my other blog, the most recent post is the same as this one :)

Wednesday Wisdom

2009-08-19T07:30:00.001-07:00

I was reading updates on Facebook one afternoon and I came upon this quote in the status section of a dear friend:

"God can't launch your abilities until He's established a foundation of stability in your life. Be patient in preparation."

I really like that. It makes so much sense and gave me an "Ah ha" moment most profound. We must set ourselves up for stability in our work, our lives. That means cultivating discipline and seeing our projects out to the very end.

It's funny when you read something and throughout the day the essence of that first quote resounds in almost everything else your eyes consume. Later that same day, I read "Concentrate on making sure your schedule matches your stated priorities in work and life." (A super duper thank you to whomever posted that. Forgive me; I have forgotten.) We have to make our choices carefully, weighting the options of all that is important in our lives, and then make sure our schedules, our daily goings and comings and doings, uphold them.

Here was the biggy: "YOU have to see what you do as important before anyone else does." As you can imagine, I left a comment on that one (again, see the above belated thank you!). It is so easy for us to care about what people think of us, of what we do. But the truth of the matter is that what your heart is telling you is what is most important. If you have a dream, if you truly believe it is God given and the best for you and your life (including those directly involved i.e. spouse, children), then you have an obligation to seek it out. Not just an obligation to yourself, but to your family for if you are miserable, you're not only harming yourself but them as well. You also have an obligation to God, as He is the one who gave you those dreams in the first place. He doesn't do anything without reason, even dolling out gifts and talents and abilities.

You have to step out to find out. Yes, this is the hardest part. But once our priorities are in order, once we have rooted ourselves and grounded ourselves in the commitment of seeking out our dreams, our bliss, once that stability is there, THEN we can take those first, shaky steps and know that our feet will be placed on solid ground.

Just some wise words for thought!
Cheers,
Jen

"When you step out into the unknown, in faith, one of two things will happen: you will land on your feet, or you'll learn to fly."
~ Unknown

PS: in the mood for a little wackiness? Wander on over to my other blog Woolgatherings where it's being served up liberally!

Monday Musings

2009-08-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

"I have arrived at this outermost edge of my life by my own actions. Where I am is thoroughly unacceptable. Therefore, I must stop doing what I've been doing."
~Alice Koller An Unknown Woman

A little shot in the arm for a new week. In order to grow, progress, and succeed in life, we must take responsibility for where we are. It is our choices which determine who we are and where we end up. If you aren't happy with where you are, take responsibility. Admit you've made some rough decisions and start making plans on how to make things right. Even the smallest step can change things in the right direction. A tiny rudder guides even the largest ship.

Eating food for thought and enjoying it,
Jen

Bliss

2009-08-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

I guess you could say I'm making up for my lack of posts this week with two in one day. That's not entirely accurate, but it sounds good so we'll run with it *big grin*. If you want the REAL story, pop over to my other blog . It offers a better and more thorough explanation.

I've yet to see the movie "Julie and Julia" but I'm anticipating a great one. My mother already saw it and called me the moment she got home to tell me it's one of the best movies she's ever seen! Mom and I have differing tastes in movies. (The last movie I saw was "G.I. Joe", which will probably be one of the last movies my mom will ever see.) But I have a feeling we'll end up with the same opinion on this one.

I was reading blogs this morning, perusing my favorites, when I saw this heading: What is it you REALLY like to do? The version I read can be found over at Life at Willow Manor. You should check her blog out. It's beautiful! Anyway, it got me thinking. What DO I really like to do? I mean, sure, I love to write, I love to read. But....REALLY like to do?

Ask yourself (are you brave enough?):
"What do I REALLY like to do?"

enjoy?

love?

live for?

What makes you excited, gets your blood pumping, make you leap out of bed in anticipation of the new day?

When we can answer this question honestly, take the bold steps toward your bliss, and greet each day with an enthusiastic grin, THEN we will have found not just true happiness, but what we were created for.

This question is going to take a few days to ponder, at least for me. It's one I've been needed to ponder (honestly) for quite sometime. Here's to a great weekend, and some answers come Monday :)

Happy Friday,
Jen

PS: What do YOU really like to do?

"The Earth laughs in flowers"

2009-08-12T13:17:00.000-07:00

Emerson's quote comes to mind as I think of my little garden. I finally got it planted and I must say I am quite pleased with all of it's 4x4 goodness. I've helped plant gardens before, even grown my own container gardens, but this is the first time I've ever had a plot of my own. It may be little but it's mine...all mine!

Plant Roll Call:
Begonias (2)
Sun Coleus (3)
Mona Lavender Swedish Ivy (2)
Asparagus Fern (2)
Lemon Balm (2)
Turenia (2)

And now...on with the show!

Here stands Awesome Photographer husband in the area that will become my garden

Mu the cat decided he enjoyed the plants right where they were

Inspirational little piggy, isn't he?

Yep, that's me, doing the ancient Native American newspaper dance!

Viola! Behold, my garden in all it's splendor!

And the little bird and toadstool that call it home :)

Happy weekend, my friends! Get out side and have some fun!

Jen

Monday Musings

2009-08-10T08:12:00.000-07:00

"I've arrived at this outermost edge of my life by my own actions. Where I am is thoroughly unacceptable. Therefore, I must stop doing what I've been doing."

~Alice Koller, An Unknown Woman

Aren't we all guilty of doing things that we aren't proud of or don't necessarily like? Those things have a direct impact on our lives. I can look at things in my own life, things I don't like, and complain and gripe all I want but until I face the truth, nothing is going to change. What's the truth? I make my choices and it's these choices that have put me where I am. If I don't like where I am, I need to make different choices. Simple? Profound? Yes...now for the hard part: doing.

Divine Intervention

2009-08-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

I had originally planned to write about my dreams for a garden. A garden of my very own. I'd planned to sketch it out, plant by plant, posting pictures I'd found of gardens on-line, using other's genius as a stand in for my own dreams. I had planned to write this up as a fantasy. Most of you know, I currently reside in a garage apartment six feet south of my in-law's home. We live in a backwater, southern town on five acres with no trees save for those that line the property line in the back. It's hot, dry and thirsty during the summer. So hot in fact that it's hard just to walk out the door! I grew container plants last year but lost most of them due to heat and, in the case of my eggplants, to some strange little worm that wanted to feast on my eggplants innards. I'm used to dreaming. It's what I do best. However, I've just been handed the most wonderful surprise!

After a bout with locational depression, with a side of Vitamin D deficiency, I told my awesome photographer husband that I needed to get outside and work in the yard. I was born to parents who worked outside. Since I was old enough to walk, I have helped out in my parent's gardens. Anytime my mom calls now to ask if I can spend a Saturday helping her fix a chicken coop or pick an over abundance of basil I get so excited I can hardly sit still until Saturday. But these random jaunts that happen, at best, once every other month or so aren't enough. My heart, my soul, my fingers belong in the dirt. My husband, dear man that he is, announced to me yesterday that he's going to help me plant a garden. Not just any garden, but a Secret Garden. Oooh, this had my radar up. A Secret Garden? For me? But where? The dirt is hard, dry, Georgia clay. All attempts to sow have been wrought with defeat, the winner being old man sunshine. His idea: a shade garden, along the back property line, hidden amongst the pines.

Needless to say, I'm excited!

I've been spending all morning at work searching out shade plants and fall veggies I can plant. I've found a good starting point for my plantings. Now I just have to build a raised bed, fill it with good soil and organic matter, and get to planting! I also have to figure out how to keep the deer away. But I don't mind. I'm looking forward to this little venture. And I'm looking forward to sharing it's progress.

Have any of you ever planted a garden where there was more shade than sun? What about some fall veggies? I know the place we have picked gets some sun. When I say hidden among the pines, I mean that it's hidden away from those who won't know it's there. Sneaky, yes, but very, very necessary!

Here's to a Secret Garden of my very own!
Jen

Back to the Daily Grind

2009-08-03T08:32:00.000-07:00

As I was writing this title, I remembered a coffee shop which, sadly, is no longer in existence. I thought it a very clever name for a coffee shop. I hope they moved on to greener pastures and weren't put down in their prime.

But I digress...

This weekend was wet, but good. It has been raining off and on for the past week and a half in the South. I like it. I love stormy weather and rain gets my creative juices flowing like no other weather can. I love when weekends seem to last longer than their actual two days. For one reason or another, this weekend did. Though I spent the majority of my time relaxing and enjoying the company of some friends for dinner, I was able to get a few things done. Nothing like starting a new project or three to make you feel like you really are on your way to making your life a closer reflection of what you dream it will one day be.

If you read my Woolgatherings blog, you already know I've got my query up and running for my fantasy trilogy. I also started a new story yesterday which I'm really excited about. I won't be able to give it my full attention until those queries are out and on their way to agents, but at least I know where my next literary trek will take me. Also, I'm plugging away at a few little crafty things for my go at a small business (which I do hope to have up and going by September 1 on etsy). Not sure how much I'll have, but it's just a way to keep my hands moving and my mind creating. It's also a way to keep my sanity! I have a few things up on my Polypodium blog (which just happens to be the name of my little business). If you're interested, pop on over there and see what's happening! I hope to have a few more pictures up by the end of this week. I'll give you fair warning: that blog is in it's humble beginnings so don't pass judgement too quickly!

Whew! All this and I just was asked if I could work until 5 instead of getting off at my usual time at 3. Honestly, I wanted to answer no, but, the more hours, the more cash, and the more cash, the quicker we can get out of debt. The quicker we're out of debt, the quicker we leave La Garage. As tired as the idea already makes me, the thought of having my own abode in a year's time (our self-imposed goal) makes it worthwhile!

Here's to staying busy (and keeping sane)!
Jen

Puttanesca

2009-07-31T07:19:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, my husband and I descended the long and boring road known as I-16 from the outskirts of Atlanta into the heart of Savannah, GA. There's a little shop there, tucked in the corner of the Publix shopping center (dangerously close to a Starbucks) called Kitchenware Outfitters. We could spend hours in there (and thousands of dollars) perusing the shelves of marvelous, culinary gadgets and inspirations. In my aimless ramblings, I stumbled across a packet of dehydrated veggies and herbs which claimed to make a puttanesca pasta sauce. I'd heard of puttanesca, but I had never tried it. As it was my birthday weekend, I plopped down my debit card and brought the little package home. It was rather cute; plastic bag, label printed in Italy, little ribbon in the colors of the Italian flag. Last night we decided to brave the puttanesca and discover for ourselves this strange combination of olives, capers, anchovies and herbs.

Per the instructions, the dehydrated veggies and herbs were put in a sauce pan with a cup of water and were allowed to simmer. When the water evaporated, we added several tablespoons of olive oil and sauteed the little guys for a few minutes more. It was then time to add a 24 oz. can of crushed tomatoes. Sure I would have loved to have picked the tomatoes fresh and crushed them myself, but I don't have a garden at the present moment so the can had to suffice. The sauce simmered merrily on the stove top and the smells were tantalizing. I'd never smelled a sauce quite like it before.

Though the recipe said puttanesca is traditionally served over linguine, we prepared a box of bow tie pasta. I like bow ties. They have the perfect nooks and crannies to hang on to sauce and cheese that would otherwise slide off a long, skinny noodle.

After a heavy application of Parmesan cheese (I'm kind of an addict), we settled down to enjoy our creation. O. My. Goodness. It was amazing! Way better than the sauce you buy in a bottle at the grocer's. I wanted to eat more, but my tummy was begging me to stop. To eat more would have been over kill. I'm very glad I didn't have seconds; I get it for lunch today :)

I found a recipe for fresh puttanesca (ours had some onions and green peppers which are not included in this recipe). I can't WAIT to try my hand at fresh veggies, herbs, and those strange little creatures called capers and anchovies. O, and when I do, I will most definitely crush my own tomatoes...

If you happen to try this recipe (or if you've had puttanesca before), let me know what you think! I'm such a foodie. I LOVE to try new foods and I adore hearing food stories.

Have a great weekend, and by all means, try a new dish! Try several. And don't forget to pop the cork of a favorite wine to go along with it. (Which, come to think of it, makes a grand idea for another post :)

Ciao!
Jen

Keep In Touch

2009-07-30T06:07:00.000-07:00

K. I. T

e n o

e u

p c

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who remembers receiving notes in school or letters from pals with that writing at the bottom of the page. My best friends, my cousins and I would exchange letters almost weekly, faithfully scrawling those most important letters at the bottom. We wanted them to know that we wanted to hear from them. We wanted them to know we were hip on the current letter writing lingo.

I'm not sure if kids in school write letters any more. They're too busy texting. At least our acronyms were just that, a funny little way of letting people know what we were trying to say. Texting, however, seems to have degraded the English language to a bunch of consonants desperately needing their vowels.

But I digress...

Letter writing is an ancient form of communication. Ever since man discovered they could carve symbols in stone or scratch ash into cave walls, they have been trying to communicate with each other through the written word. With the invention of paper (and the postal service), a while new avenue of keeping in touch was born.

Letters were the primary means of communication for centuries. No picking up the iPhone and calling a bishop in France. O no; the Pope had to issue a letter, signed and sealed, and taken across countries by a messenger. I admit, it wasn't a very timely manner with which to deliver important news. Especially during wars.

Thankfully, things calmed down a bit and people began sending letters of sentiment. "How are you?" "I hope your family is well." "Is your mother feeling better?" "Were the kittens born yet?" Day after day, year after year, people kept up with the goings on of friends and family through the written word. Pages upon pages of letters have been discovered and preserved either by family or in museums (imagine having your letters on display for touring school children to gawk at one day). It was a welcome sight, that envelope, painstakingly lettered with pen and ink. Every word was savored, a breath of fresh air from a loved one. A moment to stop what one was doing and relax into a world, perhaps, they'd left behind or had never before seen.

Now we email, text, phone. Post boxes seem to be reserved for bills and junk mail. But every now and then, yes, even today, I catch a glimpse of a hand addressed envelope. There's a stamp (you know, those sticky things with numbers and random artwork) on the top right corner. Who's it from? A friend? A relative? It's not my birthday or Christmas. I pick it up, out of the slush pile of credit card offers and smile. It doesn't matter if it came from down the street or out of state, a letter with my name on it has arrived.

One of my dearest friends and I have gotten into the habit of exchanging letters on a fairly regular basis. It sets my heart right to see that envelope sitting in the box. But I don't read it right away. O no. A letter requires the proper attention. I sit it on the coffee table until I can sit down and savor each and every letter. With a cup of tea brewing, a candle lit, and my feet tucked under me on the couch, I gently slip my finger underneath that sealed flap and pull out the pages as if they were made of onion skin.

I smile, I laugh, I may even cry. It all depends upon what is being said. It's like a movie, only far more personal and sacred. It's like a miniature book written for your eyes only. Someone took time from their busy, hectic, modern life to hearken back to simpler days in order to let me know what's going on in their day to day.

We are a busy people. I don't like it. In fact, I'd much rather get back to a time when we grew our own food and knew our neighbors by name and traded chicken eggs for fresh baked bread if the money was running a bit low. I do what I can, in my little garage based homestead. One of those contributions is to write letters, send cards, tuck a postcard in the mail on a random Tuesday to my dear sweet friend in South Georgia or my grandmother who's only forty five minutes away.

People say the art of letter writing is dead. I say "pish posh"! Have you been to a stationery store lately? Yes, they do exist, and they are chock full of gorgeous papers and envelopes and stickers and wax seals and.... Grab you a box of note cards. Go on. You know you eye them every time you run to the store for milk and bread. Heck, I've seen them in the dollar bin at Target. If that's the case, grab several. Go home and make a list of all those people you swore you'd keep in touch with and, so far, haven't. Jot them a line or three. Write them a five page dissertation on the goings on in corporate America. Send them your great grandmother's recipe for banana nut bread. Three simple words, a stamp and whoosh - you've just made someone's day!

It doesn't take much to let others know you care. Don't feel like you have to write an autobiography. Just let them know you're there, you're still breathing, and you want to make sure they are too.

You'll be glad you did. And who knows, you may just find a letter addressed to you a few days later. It could be the start of a beautiful thing!

Keep in touch!

~Jen

Life: Take 32

2009-07-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

I had the most lovely weekend, rambling about Savannah, GA with my husband for my birthday. For a more detailed account (and hopefully some pictures) check in with my other blog, The Gypsy Scribe, later on today.

I love birthdays. For me, they are the start of a fresh year. I know, the new year officially starts in January, but I like to think I get my own, personal New Year's party every year on 27 July. It's a time to celebrate, and a time to take stock. I like to spend some time on my birthday to reflect on things I accomplished in the past year and to up my goals from the one's I set in the past. This can be a sobering process as I feel I have very little to show for my time on earth so far.

But I'm feeling pretty good this year. I've got new goals, new dreams. I've got some self imposed deadlines which I'm excited about meeting. I'm going to be busier and more productive. It's a daunting task, this new year, but I'm ready and willing to meet the challenge head on and give it all I've got.

Here's hoping this year out shines the last!
Jen

The Victorian Ideal

2009-07-23T08:43:00.000-07:00

How many times have we flipped through our history books and sighed, thinking how simpler things were "back then", wished we could go back in time, or wondered if we were born in the wrong era? I know I have been guilty of such musings many times. One of those time periods I find myself wandering back to is the Victorian Age. No, it was definitely not perfect (is there a perfect age?). Women were repressed, social status was suffocating, and people were forced to put on false personalities all in the name of "society". However, the romantic in me wonders what it would have been like to have been born to a middle to high class family, to parents who encouraged their children (sons and daughters alike) to pursue their passions and gifts. (Thankfully, my real upbringing did include parents who encouraged my sister and me to do just that.)

It was easier to become a writer back then. All I needed was a masculine pen name and an appointment with an editor. At least, that's how it's depicted in all those romantic films. Since we're idealizing here, I figured I'd run with the stereotypical image of the eager author sitting outside the editors office, manuscript clutched to her chest, hopeful look on her flawless features, ringlets of auburn hair peaking out from beneath her bonnet. Would I have traveled by boat and rail in those romantic days of travel? Across the pond to Europe? Perhaps I would have crossed paths with Oscar Wilde, seen one of his plays while the author was in the theatre house. Paris high society during this period seems lavish and garish and oh-so-delectable! I admit, I would have indulged, if only for a time.

Something in me, however, tells me that my true self would have eventually won out of countless dinner parties, play premieres and picnics in from of the Eiffel Tower. Even being born to a high society, Victorian Era family could not quell the urge I have to seek solitude, to work with my own hands, to get dirt under my fingernails and breathe fresh air. To feel the sun on my skin and my toes squelch through mud. It didn't for Beatrix Potter. I'm certain I would have been as enthralled with her "little books" during the hey-day of their publication as I am now. I am also certain that something inside me would have prompted me to take a leaf from her book and venture into the realm of making my own way in a time when women were expected to speak shyly, walk primly and hide behind the tux tails of their husbands.

Beatrix and I would have had much more in common than me and old Oscar. Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed the lavish indulgence he heaped upon his friends (to a fault), but I would have tired from society life. Perhaps I could live in both worlds, the shining City of Lights could be home to my publishing dreams and hair-brained schemes. The lost in time villages of the Lake District, however, would have been the home of my heart, my soul, my need to disengage from the hoopla and hubbub of the everyday.

Will I get that life, in the here and now, jet setting in Europe and recharging at the farm? I sure hope so. Until then, I'll live vicariously through my Victorian counterparts (and perhaps create an alter ego who can gallivant and romp alongside them as I daydream the drearies away :) And in the meantime, I'll feed my love for all things Idealized Victorian with a few good books both in Oscar's world and in that of Beatrix.

Happy travels,
Jen

AN: Both Wilde and Potter were born in the Victorian Era yet lived most of their adult lives in the Edwardian Era. In my happy world, I consider them Victorian. However, the historian in me would not allow me to post this without a post script...

The Old South: Savannah

2009-07-21T08:50:00.000-07:00

What is it about Savannah that makes me sigh with longing? Longing for her maze of squares, her cobblestone river walk, her moss laden trees? Perhaps it's my love for all things old ( I am a history major after all). I love the character and the stories that lie in things from the past. The houses that line the oak draped streets all could tell a thousand tales if only we knew their language. The ghosts of former residents, of pirates and Revolutionary War soldiers still roam the halls and basements, attics and guest rooms of many of her formidable manors. Just fifteen minutes away is Tybee Island. Sure, it's built up over the years. There's a boardwalk and narrow streets filled with junky souvenirs. If you go to the North Beach, however, you'll find a quieter shore, a place to rest, wade, and collect shells.

I lived in Savannah for two years. It was the first place I'd ever lived on my own. I left the familiarity of the metro Atlanta area and happily settled 350 miles away. I rented my first apartment, supported myself, and went back to school to continue my history studies.

What better city to study history (OK, Cairo does NOT count!)? It seeps into the soil and bubbles up through the pavement. Everywhere you turn there's a landmark, a cemetery, a building with a patina that remembers the Civil War. My Art History professor taught us the difference between Doric, Ionic and Corinthian columns. She laughed, saying we'd curse her name the next time we drove through the historic district because from hence forth we would see a house and immediately think, "Corinthian. Doric. Corinthian. Ionic." I'll be dipped, she was right!

Savannah boasts a tradition of story telling, of art and culture that I hunger and thirst for in this po-dunk town I now inhabit. Everywhere you turn, there's a park, a festival, a farmer's market, a quirky shop selling honey or beaded necklaces from local artisans.

The people move at a slower pace. Never say no to an offer of food or drink from a Savannahan; it will fall on deaf ears and you'll find yourself eating banana pudding and enjoying it even though you hate the stuff. There's always a cookout or a party to go to. Docks abound and people are more than happy to share their low country boil with you.

Is Savannah perfect? Of course not. Nothing on earth is. But it's darn near close and I can't wait to go back, put down some roots, and drink in those historical juices until I burst with the memories of the Old South.

~Jen

*join me on my blog The Gypsy Scribe next week as I catch you guys up on my birthday weekend in that great southern lady, Savannah, GA.

Random Jottings of a Foggy Mind

2009-07-17T07:49:00.000-07:00

I beat myself up mercilessly at times. Figuratively speaking of course. I sit at work (a job for which I am most thankful) thinking, "Oh, if only I wasn't here I could be doing ---". Then, I return home, only to be frustrated by the lack of creation room and my thoughts meander to "Oh, if only I wasn't here, I could be doing ---".

Am I crazy? (Family and close friends are forbidden from answering that one publicly;) No more than usual. And I think it all has to do with the mentality by which we are constantly surrounded by.

More, more, more. That's what our society preaches. Even when trying to slow down and simplify, it is so easy to be sucked into believing that because we aren't super productive all the time, we are squandering the hours given.

Yesterday afternoon, I took a nap. Counter productive to my rantings, or so it seemed at the time. However, my body was craving more rest. Harry Potter hangover still in full swing. So I relented and gave in, sleeping for at least an hour, possibly more. My husband, gentle soul, tried to wake me at the appointed time but he said I grunted angrily twice and rolled back over. He was wise to let me do so.

We went for dinner then returned, all in the name of "getting something done". In my mind, that means conquering the world before bed time. I looked at my craft corner (OK, my corner cluttered with craft supplies) and sighed. Then I did something most unusual. I took out some fabric, ironed it, and cut the squares for my current project. That's it. I did no more. I sat my stack of little plaid squares atop my current hardcover and sighed. This time, out of satisfaction. Did I conquer the world? Well, not yet. Did I accomplish something? Yes. As a matter of fact, I did.

I'm one step closer to completing a project. It wasn't life altering or earth shaking (in fact, one would not notice if they poked their head in our garage room and scoured the coffee table in search of said plaid squares). But I can smile a small smile knowing one more thing is crossed off my list.

Here's to a few more crossed off tasks this weekend, and not fretting if there aren't!

Happy Weekend,
Jen

French Women and Wisdom

2009-07-09T07:36:00.000-07:00

I'm reading the most marvelous book! Mireille Guiliano's "French Women for All Seasons" is fast approaching favorite book status. Her first book, "French Women Don't Get Fat", I have yet to read. I just haven't bought it yet! This past weekend, however, on my way to the check out counter at the local Barnes and Noble, I passed the discount table and saw this little gem. I grabbed it and have been savoring it ever since.

Most of us admire other cultures for one reason or another. Perhaps it's the fault of my ancestors, but I've always been drawn to Europe and the British Isles. No place is perfect, but their way of life seems slower, steeped in more traditions. Perhaps it is because they have thousands of years off which to glean.

This book is a fascinating look at French women and the subtle yet profound ways which make them elegant and enviable. Mrs. Guiliano in no way makes French women out to be better than any of us other ladies. She offers secrets and tips on how to bring more of a French way of life into our own.

For example, she's taught me how to look at food differently and how to enjoy the little things that I have, sadly, overlooked. Food was meant to be savored and not just stuffed into our mouths to fill a void. She has opened my eyes to eating seasonally, as well as I can, buying produce from local markets instead of just what's on the shelves at the supermarket.

I understand (as does she) that we don't all live in small villages with fresh markets within walking distance (a tragedy for sure). But we can make an effort to seek out and cook with the freshest ingredients we can find and afford. If nothing else, we can learn to be mindful of our food. Knowing what we're putting into our bodies is the first step to shifting gears in our eating habits. And I've discovered that most of the time, eating is just that for me: a habit.

She's teaching me to take better notice of how I dress, how I conduct myself. How it's not that important to have a closet full of clothes or shoes (not that I do, but I know I have far more than I need), but to spend money on quality pieces that can last for years, dressed up or down, for all manner of occasions. She also encourages the occasional splurge, be it in eating (why yes, I will take that third helping of chocolate!) or in shopping. Save up and buy that pair of really nice earrings. They'll last a lifetime and will go with everything! And you'll feel great when you wear them. We can't put a price tag on confidence.

I'm learning to eat slower, walk for pleasure and not just for exercise. I'm learning to enjoy the simple things, for example, washing my hands. It's such a mundane task, one we all do countless times a day. But have you ever stopped and really taken the time to consciously enjoy the feel of the water, the smell of the soap, the physical process of rubbing your hands together under a stream of warm liquid? Perhaps I'm crazy, but that one tiny shift in consciousness, that one small pause and reflect at the bathroom mirror has given me a series of small respites in an otherwise stressful or boring day. Try it; you may find yourself buying more fragrant liquid soaps :) As if we needed another excuse to visit Bath and Body Works!

And speaking of trying things out, take a wander over to www.mireilleguiliano.com and see for yourself how the French make life so grand. I can almost guarantee you'll be hooked!

Happy day,
Jen

P.S. you can also link over to her site French Women Don't Get Fat from her personal site. There, you can register for a newsletter and take a quiz to find out just how French you really are. Me? I might as well move to Provence and raise lavender :) Ahhh, now for the minor detail of buying property in a foreign country...

Stress Relief and Fresh Cut Grass

2009-07-01T07:09:00.000-07:00

My mom has one of those old fashioned, manual push mowers. By manual I mean there's no chord to pull, no key to turn; it work solely on man-power. More specifically, arm power.

This past week, my husband and I house-sat for my mom while she was soaking up some sun on Hilton Head Island, SC. Unfair, I know, but work took precedence over luxury. She was due back Saturday afternoon so I thought, being the good daughter that I am, I would cut the grass for her.

The front yard would be easy, I surmised. Most of it is pine trees so grass is limited to a small patch to the left of the drive. I lugged the old mower out of the storage shed, filled up my mason jar with ice water, and set to slicing. I should add here that slicing is a gross exaggeration. The blades haven't been sharpened in at least an eon or three. It was less mowing and more shoving the mower forward hard enough to rip the tall weeds from their roots.

Most of you are probably thinking: this woman's crazy! It's summer in Georgia and she's out there manually mowing the yard with dull blades?!? Well, perhaps I am a bit "touched". However, let me argue with this: by the time I finished the front and the back yards I was calmer than I'd been all week.

Maybe it was the brute force required to operate the contraption. Maybe it was the simple fact that being outside in the sunshine, exerting energy caused the stresses of the week to roll off my shoulders with the sweat.

I am one of those strange people who find relaxation in physical labor. I love to work outside, work with my hands, play in the dirt. If I'm on vacation (which has not happened in more years than I care to mention), I'm not one to lay in the sun on the sand. I'm the one swimming far enough out in the sea to warrant a friendly warning by the lifeguard. Riding bikes, body surfing, beach combing and, yes, swimming, do more for me than lounging ever could. Don't misunderstand. I love the opportunity to just sit and get lost in a good book as much as the next gal. But those instances are few and far between.

As of right now, I am unable to do regular yard work. Considering we don't have a yard, this isn't too much of an "ah ha" moment. The challenge has been finding ways to cut down on the stress of every day life without that luxury. My mom is more than happy to enlist in my services. Two weeks ago I spent my Saturday helping her build a chicken coop. She never asks me to mow the lawn; she's as addicted to outside work as I am! But she knows how much I enjoy it and until I am able to get my own dirt underneath my nails, I'll keep taking people up on offers of yard work. I get a great work out, a slight tan, and all my troubles melt away in the hot, southern sun.

Offering to cook dinner for me in return is a good incentive to boot ;)

Ciao!
~Jennifer

PS: if you're interested in more commentary on my house sitting adventures, look no further than http://thegypsyscribe.blogspot.com!

Live Creatively

2009-06-24T07:48:00.000-07:00

I've been rereading Debbie Macomber's book "Knit Together" this week while house-sitting for my mother. I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone who is even remotely fed up with their life's direction and want to follow their God-given passion and purpose. I'm going through it slowly this time, drinking in her pearls of wisdom and writing them down so that they will better stick to my well-oiled brain.

The book is peppered with quotes and scripture passages that go along with the particular point she is making in certain sections. While finishing up chapter one this morning, the scripture reference on the last past jumped out at me and jolted me away better than the coffee I forgot to brew. I'm not usually a fan of The Message translation. Call me old fashioned but I lean to the NIV or *gasp* the KJ versions. However, this verse is so insightful in modern translation that I wanted to share it with you. Consider this a little tea-time food for thought. Pinkies out everyone! Sip your Earl Grey and read the wisdom of Paul:

"Live creatively, friends...Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don't be impressed with yourself. Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life." (Galatians 6: 1, 4-5)

*pause*

What an awesome admonition! "Live creatively." When we live creatively we are searching for ways to express the dreams and desires God has placed within us. God is a creator. He's the ultimate Creator. Madeleine L'Engle once referred to writers as being co-creators with God. Not only writers, but everyone co-creates with God, be it through clay, stone, paint, wood, cake batter or their children. The thought that God put desires in me to create beautiful and meaningful things is enough to make me dance. (I won't however, seeing that I'm at work right now and that might cause quite a commotion in the office...)

"Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given." Who are you? What has God given you to do? No, no, I don't want to know your name. Who are you, deep down inside? What are those hidden desires you are passionate about? The things you have always wanted to do but were, perhaps, too afraid to do them? God has planted desires and dreams in all of us and He fully expects us to follow through with them. Discover your passions. Dig deep and find out what it is that makes you tick, what makes you want to get out of bed every morning. The things that bring you joy. These are the things that hold the answers to your purpose in life.

"sink yourself into that." Ah, now for the action part. We must DO what we're called to do. Simply coming to terms with what we're on earth for isn't enough. With knowledge comes responsibility and knowing what we are called to do requires us to take a step of faith and begin doing all we can in order to make that dream a reality. Sure it's scary and it will probably be hard. You may have to take classes or ask questions of strangers. But know that if you are being obedient to follow the plan you believe God has given you, He will be on your side and He has already made a way. He will never leave you nor will He ever forsake you. No matter how scary or impossible things may seem, God is with you and you can do anything with Him!

"Don't be impressed with yourself." Ah, yes. The issue of pride. Many times we fall to the opposite extreme and don't see anything good worth saving. I have found myself uttering countless times "I'm not good enough" "No one will like what I do" "What if I fail?". This is just as unhealthy a mind-set as thinking you're too good for anyone else. Sometimes it can be tempting to put others down because we see ourselves and what we do as superior. We may look at our dreams and compare them to the dreams of others and find theirs to be "lacking" in the light of our own. This is dangerous ground, friend. Not only will this push us away from friends and potential relationships, but it can have an effect we never anticipated. We may come to the point that we think so highly of ourselves that we decide not to share our gifts at all because the "lowly" and the "weak" who surround us would never understand. Either by self-deprecation or pride, Satan is wanting to keep us from achieving our God-given dreams. Keep yourself close to God, bathe every action, every step in prayer and refuse to give in to self-loathing or unhealthy praise.

"Don't compare yourself with others." I touched on this in the paragraph above. It's far too easy to see someone else who's ideas or talents are more flashy or more "important" than our own. I have been guilty of seeing a new book on the best seller list and thinking, "Gee...must be nice to have a book published." It's easy to fall prey to comparison, especially to those who do similar things that we do. Remember, however, that we all have our place, we all have our own outlet and realm of reaching. We may do something that someone else already has done, but we may be the only ones who can reach those who are around us. You have experiences and visions that are unique to you and there may be those who will never be reached until they hear or see the message through your eyes. Don't get discouraged if others are doing better than you. Learn from them. Ask them what they did to get to where they are now. More often than not, I find successful people to be more than willing to share their "secrets". Successful people aren't afraid of competition. If nothing else, it makes them work harder. Plus, they haven't forgotten what it's like to be in your shoes. Seek out a mentor instead of hiding behind grumbling and complaining. That person who ruffles your feathers just may be the push you need to see the beginnings of your own success!

"Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life." There it is. The "R" word again. Responsibility. We don't like that word, do we? I cringe at it sometimes, knowing that it means I'm in charge and people are going to come to be if there's a problem or a question. It means I'm going to have to interact with others. As mentioned earlier, with knowledge comes responsibility. When we know what we're called to do, we are now responsible for what we do with that knowledge. No one can make us do what we need to do. Sure, we have those who encourage us, who cheer us on. But no one is going to hold your hand and do everything for you. If they did, you wouldn't be the one doing it, now, would you? Only we can achieve our creative best. Only we can get the most out of our time on earth. Don't shy away from responsibility; embrace it. Take charge of your life, of your goals, seek out and discover all you have the potential to do and become. Step back and watch the amazing things that God has in store for you unfold!

Happy hunting!
~Jennifer

If you have the time...

2009-06-23T06:26:00.000-07:00

you should pop over to Neil Gaiman's blog: http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2009/06/mourning-suit-and-green-goddess.html

This particular post just happened to make me laugh out loud and I thought I would spread the joy. His posts are usually humorous yet insightful and always refreshing.

This is the quote that got me: "I don't think you should ever insult people unintentionally: if you're doing it, you ought to mean it." This was followed by another hilarious quote about the Irish Sea. I'll let you read it for yourself.

If you don't know who Neil Gaiman is, shame on you! Go to the bookstore, pick up a copy of Stardust then mozey on over to blockbuster and rent "Mirror Mask". That should get you started.

Cheers!
~Jennifer

The Smell of Scotch Tape in the Morning

2009-06-15T08:39:00.001-07:00

Weekends fly by.

I find myself on Sunday night running a recap in my head, trying to find where Saturday went. I wonder what I could have done to make it last longer, wonder what can be done to make the next weekend better.

All this wondering, is there really a need for it? I should enjoy my weekends as they are, as they come, as they are planned. They are all memorable; every day should be.

I find that I spend my weeks waiting for Friday afternoon, my weekends rolling my eyes at Sunday evening.

I'm thankful for my job.

I'm thankful for what it allows me, affords me.

I shouldn't dread any day, be it Monday or Sunday night.

Everyday is a gift and I realize this morning that I can either unwrap them, enjoying the sound of the paper, the smell of the Scotch tape, the feel of the wrapping, the box, the bubble wrap. Or
I can roll my eyes at it, toss it in the corner and watch the minutes click by to hours until the work day is through and I'm off to build my own empire.

When it's put that way, it's kind of hard to choose the latter.

I wonder once more and go in search of those tossed packages but sadly, they aren't there. The corner is clear except for one.

It's marked "Monday".

It's for today, tossed there this morning when I woke with a grunt and a groan.

Think I'll rescue it from the dust bunnies. Dust bunnies created by the other gifts left there, decomposed at day's end.

I'm opening this one slowly, the same way I open Christmas gifts, the infuriating slip of finger under tape and folding of paper (never tearing!) that drives my friends and family to cursing!

It is my day, after all. I should open it as I wish.

Deep breath...

Yep, there it is.

The smell of Scotch tape and the sound of something rattling. A lot of somethings, actually.

The many gifts in one ordinary looking package marked "Today".

Snail Mail

2009-06-11T07:11:00.000-07:00

It seems derogatory somehow to refer to a handwritten letter by the phrase "snail mail". I know why it's called that. It just makes it sound so...slimy. And unwanted.

I love handwritten letters. I love to write them. I love to receive them. My heart does a little flip every time I see an envelope in the mail that has my name and address written on the front. Written, not typed, spat out from some computerized machine. Bill collectors don't hand write addresses. The government doesn't either. A handwritten envelope means one thing: someone I know has taken the time to contact me.

Letters are meant to be savored, read at one's leisure. Just the other day, I received a letter from a very dear friend of mine. I opened it, glanced at it, but did not read it. It was a full twenty four hours before I finally sat down to see what she had to say. Had I read it upon opening, I would have missed the subtleties of the phrasing, the meaning behind the words upon the page. I brewed a cup of tea, curled up on my sofa, and read the pages slowly, word by word, taking in everything she had to say. She took the time to write me; I owe her and her words respect.

Letter writing used to be the norm, the way people communicated their thoughts, dreams, intentions. It was once a necessity. Now it has become a luxury. Or, at worst, an archaic pastime better left to Dickens' novels and doting grandparents. Have we really become so busy that we can not pause and write a brief note? It doesn't have to be a dissertation on the basics of quantum mechanics. Just a postcard that says, "Hey, I was just thinking about you."

"But email is so much quicker. They'll get it instantly and know I'm thinking about them right then."

Yes. If you write it, they'll get it in a day or three. They'll go out to their post box, pull out the mass of junk mail, bills, and fliers, shuffle through them, grumbling and complaining up the drive until...they pause. It's a post card. Huh...must be a promotion from some store. They turn it over. Wait- they know that name. They recognize the handwriting (hopefully email hasn't deprived of the recognition of a loved one's handwriting!). A letter? For me? Someone took the time to actually write a few words, fork over forty-seven cents and send ME a letter?!? The bills and junk mail get left on the table. They take your letter (post card, greeting card, whatever) and sit in a well-worn chair, next to a window and read what you have to say. It's not much, just the general, "hey how are you?", "thinking of you", "how did your doctor's appointment come out?" They smile, maybe get a little teary-eyed. They smooth out the page, stand, and put your letter in the chair. Now they are ready for the rest of their day. You've given them more than a greeting, a thought, a message. You gave them pause, a respite from the helter-skelter of modern life.

We write to those we love, those we cherish, those we wish to get to know better. We give them words, our words, written painstakingly across crisp paper, folded just so, put into an envelope and sealed up tight against prying eyes.We give them pause from their routine, a deviation that gives them new perspective and appreciation of the little things. We give them a smile, a tear, a laugh. All unexpected, all greatly needed.

What greater gift can there be?

In the Company of Angels

2009-06-01T07:57:00.000-07:00

Some people don't believe in angels. I happen to be one who does. Not only in the heavenly beings who watch us unseen, but those who walk amongst us in human flesh. They aren't perfect; they rarely know they touch us in ways eternal. But they are there. Always watching out for us.

For some, it may be a parent or grandparent, a sibling that has always watched out for them, given them advice or a much needed push. For others, a teacher may have filled this roll. A mentor who has been where you've been, gone where you need to go and was there cheering you on and giving you priceless advice. While I have been blessed with a wonderful family who encourages me and a teacher or two who inspired me to persevere, my constant guiding lights have been friends.

It's amazing how people from different walks of life, who can at times be polar opposites, touch each other. I have been blessed with two such friends. They are always there when I need them. They aren't afraid to give me my soapbox and let me rant. They never cower when I come to them to vent. And they always, always, always have a message from the Divine, words they themselves are unsure of but know they must be spoken nonetheless. A lot of times they just begin to talk and out pops exactly what I needed here. Other times, a letter arrives, or a note is placed in my line of sight that says exactly what my heart is thirsting for.

I know you have people like this in your own lives. Your own person troop of guardian angels. Let them know how much they mean to you. Write them a letter (a good old fashioned one is always appreciated!), call them, send them flowers, take them out for coffee. Whatever you do, make certain they know how much you appreciate them. And I'll bet you mean as much to them as they do to you.

~Jen

The Simple Joy of Reading

2009-05-22T06:50:00.000-07:00

In the past month I have read seven books. Yes. Seven. Four weeks, Seven books. I took three with me to India, brought one back with me on the plane, bought three after a few days of being at home, and have since bought three more (the first of which I started reading last night).

Reading is so relaxing to me. I jealously guard my reading time. I know many, many people who don't read at all and I am baffled at the notion of a life without books. For me, disappearing into a good story is the most pleasurable of afternoon pursuits. Waking up to a rainy Saturday puts me in the mood for a cup of tea, some buttery bread, cheese and a thick novel I've been eager to read all week. Do all my rainy Saturdays (or Saturdays in general) turn out like this? Of course not. Life rolls on and there are many things I must accomplish on Saturdays that cannot be accomplished during the week.

Chalk it up to extended jet lag, or just the fact that I've started going into work and hour and a half earlier, but by the time I get home in the afternoons, all I want to do is sit and read. It's odd, really. I'll read until the sun starts to go down and then I get animated once more. I start working, writing, contemplating new designs for my up and coming business.

Then of course, there are those days when all that gets pushed to the side. Those rare days when the story takes over, possess me, and I have no choice but to sit still and turn the pages until I reach "The End".

Have a wonderful weekend!
~Jen

Visions of Belonging

2009-05-19T06:33:00.000-07:00

A bit of a vision struck me this morning. No sounding trumpets or angels ascending. Just a quite revelation of truth. We are put here on this earth for a reason, a purpose. I don't believe any one's purpose is the same as the next. We may be involved in similar pursuits, similar things, but what we bring to the table is as varied as our personalities. Little quirks, tiny differences are what make us unique. And through these we bring our own touch of wonder to that which we are called to do.

I've spent the morning checking and updating blogs, as well as creating a new one. And I was at peace. I still am, as I write this post, even though I am at my "day job", sitting in an office, listening not to the birds and the breeze but to the sounds of the goings-on of the internal organs of a computer and software support firm. I am here thanks to a dear friend and the job is filling a need. Is it where I belong? For now, yes, forever, no. But I am able to get glimpses of what is beyond the need.

It is desire that drives us, be it for freedom to pursue our calling or for an afternoon at the beach. We rearrange schedules, make sacrifices, work a little extra here, save an extra dollar there until the day arrives when we can at last sigh and say, "This is it! I've made it."

How far off is that day for me? I shrug. I honestly don't know. But I feel I've made headway, feel I've finally crossed a necessary threshold. The next step towards the silver lining. Until I can at last wake up and say, "I am in control of my destiny" in the way only the self-employed can, I will have these dreams, these moments of wondering when, when, when? Yet I will continue on, plugging away in the moments I have, to make those dreams a reality, and, hopefully, speed up that schedule just a bit.

~ J. Chandler

Reading a Beautiful Story

2009-05-14T07:29:00.000-07:00

"The End of the Alphabet" by C.S. Richardson is one of the most beautiful books I've stumbled across in a long time. I found it at Books A Million in the library book section. Yes, they have a section where they sell old library books. It's wonderful. They are all hardbacks and have card catalogue cards in the back (you know, the old fashioned cards you actually had to have the librarian stamp for you at the desk). I'm a bit of a nostalgic at heart, so I picked up three the last time I was there. Richardson's book was the first I read.

It's a quick read, I finished it in about an hour and a half, but the depth of the story will stay with you much, much longer. It is a tale about a man, a rather ordinary man by all accounts, who sets out on the journey of a lifetime after hearing some rather disheartening news from his physician. As you read, however, you come to discover that Mr. Zephyr is not as ordinary as he seems. In hindsight, I have to ask myself: are any of us really ordinary?

For that's what beautiful stories do, make us question the conventional, make us wonder at what we hold as truth. I've never enjoyed reading for the sake of reading. If a book fails to stir me emotional in the first chapter, I put it down. I'm not going to waste my time with a story that means nothing more that what it appears at face value. Some may argue that I'm missing out on some juicy beach reads. I argue that I'm not one to bite into a story and let the juices run; I'd rather chew it up, savor it, swallow it and let it digest, slowly. I've also been told I'm weird, so follow my suggestions at your own risk.

If, like me, you enjoy stories that linger in your memory, challenge you to live a better life, and are filled with beautiful prose, hunt down a copy of "The End of the Alphabet". And if you can't find it at your local library, don't panic. They may have just sent it to Books A Million.

Sun Day

2009-04-17T08:20:00.000-07:00

Finally, the sun has emerged. The old Southern sun, known the world over for it's blistering heat and gasp-inducing humidity. It has been far too long since we've seen his shining face and it's April! I suppose we just have to bear the April showers to get to the May flowers, eh?

This past week I did something I rarely do: I went home from work and laid out in the sun with a book and didn't worry that I wasn't writing or doing something more "important". And I realized something: taking care of your soul, your emotional well being is very important. Far more important, even, then finishing that last chapter or meeting your quota of words a day. I took out a blanket, a book, and a bottle of water, and sat in the sun for over an hour. Sure, I got a little red, but nothing too terrible. I've had worse! Just the act of stopping, of forcing myself to see myself as important enough to hide away, out of sight of everyone around me, to soak up some much needed, mood boosting Vitamin D was such a relief. It was Wednesday when I did this, two days ago, and I've done nothing but think of when I can do it again!

I know this post is short, but sometimes the best things do come in small packages. Take some time off from time to time, just to refuel your soul. Heck, skip out on a Monday afternoon. Don't answer your cell phone. Tell people you have an important meeting. You do, after all. It's with yourself. And if you can't take care of you, how are you going to take care of anyone else?

Rain

2009-03-16T16:37:00.000-07:00

Refreshment for the earth, true.
For my spirit, most of the time.
The greyness of day and night meld into a dream
And I am forced out of my self to walk in the twilight
Searching under mushrooms for wee folk,
Amongst the clover for fairies

Perhaps I wax poetic because of Saint Patrick's Day tomorrow. Or because rain makes me more creative and dreamy. Either way, my Irish Roots are showing!

Erin go braugh!

The "C" Word

2009-02-21T19:23:00.001-08:00

"The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating-in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life."
~Anne Morriss, Starbucks Customer, New York (The Way I See It #76)

A Starbucks cup. It's a paper cup, nothing special really. The only thing that distinguishes it from any other paper cup is the iconic logo on the front and the delectable goodness inside. A while back (I know not how long ago), Starbucks had the brilliant idea to invite their customers to submit their thoughts for consideration for publication on the back of one of these unremarkable cups. I thought it was great! I've read some amazing quotes over the years, and some that should just be tossed in the trash along with the rest of the rubbish. So it goes with opinions. But one day last week, as my husband and I sat down to enjoy some cinnamon dolce lattes, I stumbled upon the gem which you read above. I read it again. And again. It really struck me as more than opinion. This was wisdom, deep seated and spawned from experience. I enjoyed my latte and took the quote home with me in my head.

Three days later: I'm alone, going to Starbucks to write a bit before heading home. I order a cinnamon dolce latter (it IS my favorite). I sit down at my too small cafe table and begin to type. Suddenly, I glance over at my grande paper cup and I see a suspiciously familiar word: commitment. No. There's no way! I pull of the cardboard skirt that surrounds my cup and blocks all the delicious warmth from burning my hands and thawing out my fingers from the biting cold of another Georgia cold spell. Sure enough, printed in indelible black ink, is my quote. Well, not mine, but you know what I mean. How could this be? The same quote, twice, in a row? Hmmmm. It got me thinking.

This thinking produced a rather interesting bucket of thoughts. I tossed out most of them and kept just what stuck to the sides: the realization that I am afraid of what people think. So afraid, that it has governed my decisions for the past 31 years. O sure, I've made strides in this war on fear, but not enough. No. And it took a quote on the back of a Starbucks paper cup to point me to the truth.

What does commitment and fear have to do with each other? Everything. You see, we all have dreams, yes? We all have things we long to do, dream of doing, places to go, people to meet. But unless we commit to doing them, commit to seeing them come to pass, we will succumb to the first tremor, the first storm that blows through that tells us "NO!" or "YOU SCREWED UP" or "I DON'T LIKE THAT". *Gasp* Dare I do something that no one approves of? Dare I stand up to the "no" that holds me back? Dare I yell back, "I DON'T CARE!!!"

Yes. Because if I don't, I die. And there's not one bit of good a dead person can do. Not. One. Bit.

I know how it feels to die. How, you ask? Have I physically died? No, my soul has not left my body and returned. But I have had my dreams shatter before my eyes. I have had someone tell me, under no circumstances can your dream come true right now. In that regard, I know what it's like to die, to have a piece of me cut out, trampled over, and left bleeding on the ground. I know what it's like to hold my dying dream in the palm of my hands and have no idea how to resuscitate it. I know what it's like to hold my husband in my arms and hear his sobs because the word NO meant the end of our deepest desires.

But you know what? I also know the freedom that NO can bring. I know the freedom that, after you scrape yourself up, after you dry your tears and call the "powers that be" all manner of names and curses that what matters is that you are still there. That God is not finished with you yet. That there is still something left for you to do. And you know what? That something is what you desire with your every breath. How do I know that? The Bible says it. You may not believe in the Bible. That's your decision and your right. But I do. And I ask you to hear me out: "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart". It's in black and white. And it's stood true for over 2000 years. Why don't more people see their desires? I blame our Puritan ancestors and their restrictive, manipulative, Calvanistic beliefs. But that, my dear children, is another post entirely.

Something else that came to light: I survived. I lived through the worst possible thing I can imagine right now. And I'm here. And I have nothing to lose. NOTHING. Because I've heard the word "NO" for my deepest desire, and I'm still standing. It makes me wonder? What else dare I try? Dare I step out and open my own business? Sure. What do I have to lose? Someone telling me "No, you can't do that?" Ha! Watch me. Dare I finish all the novels and screenplays in my head? Yes. What do I have to lose? Someone tell me "You're Not Good Enough"? So. That' s what 70+ publishers told Dr. Suess. That's what several recording companies told the Beatles. That's what 10 years of rejections told Madeleine L'Engle and she turned around and won the Newberry Award for Fiction with that "unpublishable" book after a decade of "failure".

What separates those who are told NO and die and those who plow forward, towards their goal, stubborn as mules? Commitment. When you commit to something, you are in it for the long haul. You are there until "death do you part". I'm not just talking about marriage, although there are plenty of people out there who should realize this BEFORE they say "I do". I'm talking about anything. If you have an idea, commit to seeing become a reality. That means exhausting every possible resource, ability, talent, connection, etc. you have to making it happen! The Bible says with God NOTHING is impossible! That says to me that God does the impossible. If that's true (and I believe that it is) then that means it's up to us to do the possible. When you've exhausted the possible, then (and ONLY then) can God step in and do the impossible. He's not going to carry you to the door if you have two perfectly functional legs. But he will make a door where there is none if you get your lazy butt off the couch and make your way over the crap, and through the mess, to get to the brick wall.

I say all this to get here: what are you committed to? What is it inside you that you know you are here to accomplish, to see into reality, to birth into this world? Have you been told no? Have you? Has someone come to you and said, "Nope. Bury that dream. It ain't gonna happen." Guess what? That last thing you should do is that. You need to look them in the eye and say, "You're wrong." Exhaust your every option. Call the president of the company. Write to Congress. Demand to speak to the manager. Once you've exhausted every option, if the answer is still no, you have two options. You either do the next best thing, and know you've done your best and wait for the right time and ask again, or you can die.

I don't' know about you, but I'm not through asking; I'm not through fighting. And when I am, if the answer is still no, I'm go to suck it up, thank God I'm still alive, put my self in plan B and work my butt off there. Then, when the time is right, I'll strike back out at plan A. And I have a funny feeling, it will pay off.

Taking Care of Business...and Myself!

2009-02-04T13:54:00.000-08:00

Since I was 13 years old, my favorite author has been (and will forever be) Madeleine L'Engle. I was first struck by her imagination, then her lyrical prose; what has stuck with me through the years, however, has been her candid truth and deep wisdom.

I read and re-read several of her books each year, delighting in them each time anew. I have read them so many times, almost every page has underlinings and most margins have my chicken scratch somewhere to be found.

One of my favorite places to take notes is on the end pages at the front and back; those crisp, blank pages just seem to beg for someone to write on them! I enjoy going through my humble notes and observations, all inspired by the wisdom within the book itself.

This past weekend, I cracked open the next L'Engle book in line to be re-read and I flipped to the back to skim over my past reflections. One in particular caught my eye and I paused to read it. I paused longer still when it struck me what i twas about. In black in I'd written these words: "I do not take care of myself." My first thought was, "O, I wrote that years ago." (I checked the date: November 2003.) I read them again. And again. The third time was, proverbially, the charm. It stuck. I don't take care of myself.

At first I bristled, became a bit defensive as we all do when confronted with our short comings. I made excuses. "I can't," I argued. "I live in a garage. There's no place to work out. I can't relax in a bath tub or curl up in front of a fireplace with a good book and a cup of tea" or any of those other things I took for granted before I took up residence here. And any one who had ever shared an abode with another family knows there is precious little privacy to be found.
Once the excuses dissipated, I realized that maybe the issue ran a bit deeper than that. All of those things are true and they do play a starring role in the whys and why nots of the situation, but am I really so limited that my well-being must be compromised until I have room to stretch out, room to live?

Then I thought about others, those I know and those I've read about. People with homes, yards, bathtubs and kitchens, fireplaces, and real, honest to goodness beds. These people, in possession of those things for which I long, are in the same boat as I. Why is that? I pondered this for a while, and I believe i have come up with some speculations.

For the sake of argument (and the simple fact they are MY speculation), I will use myself as prime example. one reason I don't do what I know I should to encourage positive growth and care is, quite simply, I tell myself I'll binge now, be lazy here, until we are out and finally in a world of our own. That's all well and good if you're on a week's vacation and allow your diet and exercise to lapse and you decide to spend all your spare time reading Harlequin Romances and drinking red wine. You have a set time limit -Sunday through Saturday- and then it's back to the pursuit of dreams and goals. And I'll be the first to tell anyone that taking a break here and there is healthy for the soul.

The problem with that, for me, is I am unsure how much longer before my current situation changes. Confession time: I've grown lax with the excuse of "O, when I have my own space I'll take care of myself physically, emotionally, artistically, spiritually."

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

Perhaps another reason is (again, quite simply), we are grossly limited with space. It is quite challenging to do a marital arts workout in a 4 x 6 foot space. I trip over air! Can you imagine the damage I could cause in that small a space with a kick-punch combo? There is no available space to leave unfinished art projects out, eagerly awaiting my return. Heck, there's really no where to do the projects in the first place! The floor (remember: 4x6 feet!) or coffee table must be sacrificed. Frustration of knowing I must clean up after every, single step or use tiny movements where my body (and the DVD instructor) require full motion is usually enough to persuade me to plop myself on the couch and play solitaire or Sudoku until my eyes cross.

Lastly, and I feel this is true for many others than myself, I must admit to feeling just a wee bit guilty when I take time for myself. "You should be writing, creating, washing dishes, clothes, the Jeep..." All manner of excuses barrage me. Though I'm old enough to know the wisdom in taking care of oneself, the excuses drain energy which could otherwise be used to chop up some veggies for a salad or some firewood in the woods for a bonfire. And perhaps-and here comes that pure speculation-this is just another case of being conditioned by a society which almost requires one to be busy and frowns upon those who pause to take care of themselves or, even worse, to do what they want to do to ;push themselves closer to their own, personal goals.

To that excuse (speculation, truth) I say -SLOW DOWN! I find myself rushing to work, rushing home, rushing through a work out, rushing through a chapter, a project...could it be I'm too concerned with quantity and not quality? Could it be while I'm doing one thing, I'm constantly thinking of another? To really be in the present, to fully BE in what and where and with who at the moment I am there, that is something I sadly have a problem with. Something i am committed to working on.

Could the simple act of slowing down, physically and mentally, be the key to not only taking better care of myself, but to actually get more done towards goals and dreams and enjoy them more in the process? That's definitely something to think about.

Four Hour Stew

2009-01-20T19:00:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that we (as a culture) are too busy to do anything. That sounds, at first, to be rather ironic, but I assure you it is not. Modern convenience, while a blessing in some ways like dishwashers and ballpoint pens, has spoiled us, freed us up, and caused us to want everything NOW! And, heaven forbid we say no! We simply must join every committee, social club, agree to every potluck. Even family gatherings have become obligatory, hurried through, survived. Our kids have to play soccer, take Tai Chi, ballet, and join 4-H. We have to accept the nomination for treasurer of our bridge club, have our hair done every Thursday, go to the gym precisely at noon and hurry up with that order, I have to pick up the kids, the laundry, the dog from boot camp! I have even heard myself complain that I simply cannot be expected to check my email everyday. I don’t have time! Dear Lord, even instant messaging and DSL are too slow!

This revelation is nothing new. Countless articles and books have been written about it, proclaiming the dangers of doing too much and the side effects of stress. How to slow down has become a catch phrase for pop culture and yet no one seems to have time.

“I’ll slow down when my kids are grown, the dog dies, the boss gets abducted back to his home planet.”

Right.

Just like you’d really love to learn to knit but you just don’t have time. To both I say this -and I do apologize for the harshness of it: if you really wanted to slow down (or knit, or raise Latvian goats), you’d do it. You’d find a way, make it priority, make the necessary sacrifices.

This, however, requires the cultivation of two very (very) unpopular but very (very) important characteristics: discipline and patience..

Wait! Don’t stop reading. I know. I understand. You want to slow down NOW. You want ten easy (and quick) steps to relax, knit some socks and make Latvian goat cheese all in a Saturday afternoon. Well, if that’s what you’re looking for, you probably should stop reading. You’ve got a lot of work to do. That’s a book you’re going to have to write yourself!

As for me, I would like to write a book as an answer, or attempt to answer, a very pressing issue which was made quite clear to me while researching one of my favorite subjects: food! It started while perusing recipes. I love to cook and I’m always on the look out for some new gastronomic delights to concoct in the test kitchen of my own home. As I scrolled and clicked and scrolled and clicked, I began to notice a trend. The most popular recipes were usually labeled “quick”, “easy”, and “fast”. Do I want to spend twelve continuous hours making one dish which will be inhaled within ten minutes? Of course not. I’m all for reviving the old ways and traditions, but I’m also thankful for the attachment on my mixer that will beat egg whites to peak-perfect perfection.

What saddened me, and really had a hand in spawning this post, was a comment made by a well known food personality about how no one (NO ONE) has the time to prepare a certain delicious dish at home anymore and therefore it should be present in restaurants. The odd feeling of sadness (the same kind that permeates your heart when a beloved pet dies or you discover your favorite coffee shop just got shoved off the cliff by the big boys) crept in and was further fueled when I came across a recipe for stew which took no less than four hours to make.

Believe it or not, I was elated. A four hour stew! Wow! That’s got to taste amazing. That’s the difference between chili started at 6:30 and eaten at 7 and chili started at 4 and savored at 8. Trust me; four hour chili tastes way better than thirty minute chili (and even better after it’s sat for 24 hours in the fridge!). Can you cook great meals in under ½ and hour? Absolutely, and usually, that’s all we have time for or, more importantly, all we want to spend in the kitchen so we can concentrate on other things like family, friends, and Latvian goat raising. However, and this is a big however, should every meal be rushed, quick, pre-packaged? Absolutely not!

Spices were meant to infuse, to marinate, to permeate a dish. Food is meant to be savored not sucked down with too much salt and not enough conviction. Kind of reminds me of life. When was the last time you smelled a rose because it was there, heard a bird sing, felt the beating of your own heart, paused long enough to watch the sunset turn the sky into a dazzling array of colors?
I have made it my mission (goal, resolution, quest) for this new year to really slow down, take a good, honest look at life and all I desire. Put my priorities straight and do what it takes to get them in order. And along the way, I hope to finally, really, truly, once and for all, take a crack at all those “if only’s” (and cook some really slow meals to boot!

Life is full of obligations, have to’s, want to’s. Sometimes we really can’t say no. I understand and I’m certainly not advocating irresponsibility, passivity, laziness, nonchalance, or disinterest in the lives and well-being of others. I am suggestion, however, we take our lives back. Enjoy the things we normally take for granted and re-discover that which we have either forgotten or over-looked because we were too pressed for time to see it.

Maybe, just maybe, if we make up our minds, garner some support (even if it’s just that herd of Latvian goats), pull back our shoulders, and stand firm, we can slowly but surely wean ourselves off of instant gratification, bursting schedules, exploding engagement calendars and drive thru induced hypnosis. And maybe, just maybe, with a little patience, some discipline, and a bit of good old fashioned persistence and sacrifice, we’ll be able to create time for what really matters to us.

Life was meant to be savored.

Every.

Blessed.

Breath.

Four hour stew anyone?

Mornings with the Earl

2009-01-12T20:02:00.000-08:00

I am not a morning person. I have tried very hard to be. Every January 1st, my new year’s resolution list begins with the phrase: get up early! Nature, however, will have her way. I am a night owl. I love the solitude of the night, the tranquility that enfolds the land as mortals prepare to sleep; the sky erupting in pin-points of poetry! The stars, the moon, are all there, parading about in all their majesty for the few eyes that may pause and partake of their wondrous feast. I get giddy at twilight. The sun sinks below the tree line and mist creeps over the grass. Suddenly, just as the lamps are switched on in every home up and down the street, so too my creativity begins to crackle and hum with an electric energy I cannot explain nor control. I am alive at night! No interruptions means my creative juices are free to flow without constraint, without pause. I enjoy the sun; but there’s something deeply comforting about the night.

Alas, however, duty calls. Duty and convention. The world runs by modern time-clocks, not natural body rhythms. Up with the sun, lunch at noon, bedtime soon after dark. I, at least at this time, am no exception. I’ve had to adapt as we all have, to find my own little ways to make life work. I’ve had to discover the little tricks and quirks that my particular dilemma requires. And no greater assistant to getting me going in the morning have I found than a steaming cup of Earl Grey.

What is it about this regally named, oddly flavored tea that captures my imagination and stimulates my brain cells in a way that not even a cup of espresso can compete? To be honest, I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s the romance of the name and the feeling I am dining with royalty that peeks my interest and allows me to open up to the day at hand. Maybe it’s the smell, a rich, deep fragrance of black tea and bergamot, a mysterious fragrance, almost overpowering, but intriguing. It draws me in, begs me to sip, and words it’s magic on my sense. I have discovered that it is not as well loved as the more sweet and fruity teas. In fact, it is quite bitter and not at all mild. It shakes you awake, calling you to attention. It is never rough. If am early morning wake up call with a good bit of British grit is what you need, pick up the Earl. If not, try the more meditative Zen of a green.

Black tea is meant to be steeped about three to five minutes long. After that, it can take on a bitter flavor. But I have found that to fully enjoy the flavor of the Earl, to fully grasp all his nuances, all his peculiarities, to fully wake up and get rolling, I put no timer on my bag in hot water. I leave it there, let it infuse the water until it’s hard to tell where the bag ends and the water begins.

It is a dark tea, amber colored in the daylight, but black as coffee at night. The smell is pungent but, given the chance, will draw you in until you can say no. It goes well with milk or cream and, surprisingly, with a dash of lavender. I’ve had it with sugar and without, with honey and without, with lemon and without. Every additive adds a little more depth to it’s richness, rounding out it’s subtleties, never overpowering, always twisting the flavor just out of the reach of description, confounding and frustration but always, always delighting.

There is almost nothing a day can throw at me that I cannot face with a hot cup of Earl Grey at my side. If a day proves to be exceptionally long, I brew two cups. And I have found the fragrance alone to be a wonderful agent of relaxation at the end of a long, arduous day. Though I turn to the Earl for morning encouragement, I’ve also discovered he is well suited to those late nights spent writing, when all the world is asleep and it is just me and the computer, blue screen humming, fingers clacking across letters, across worlds. Even then, in the silence, I turn to the Earl, savoring the flavor, and thankful knowing he will get me through another night, and still be there come the first rays of dawn to command my sense to attention for another day.

Happy New Year

2009-01-04T09:10:00.001-08:00

Welcome!

How many times have you found yourself at the start of a brand new year thinking, "This year, I'm going to get it right! This year I'm going to make time for what is important, for what really matters", only to find yourself, on December 31, berating yourself for falling short and making the same resolutions?

I know I have spent many a year trying to do things "right", trying to "make" things happen. This fight or flight existence has made for many a frustrating year until I finally discovered something: life was never meant to be a drudgery, was never meant to be filled with boredom, with worry and woe. Why compete with others? If what you want out of life isn't "par" with what the neighbors want, why work yourself sick just to achieve it? Trust me, working just to impress others isn't worth it. I've done it myself for far too long.

This blog is just a branch of the tree I've planted for this new year. Among my goals -to finally finish a trilogy I've been working on, to actually establish an exercise routine I'll enjoy enough to continue, and to FINALLY move into our own home- I plan to slow down. Take in the sights of this journey called life. Smell the snow in the rolling, winter clouds (even if never a snow flake doth fall). Cultivate herbs and take the time to build that table I've been wanting to build since last year.

Learning to slow down is not a simple task in this day of "more is better" and "hurry, hurry, hurry". In fact, I'd be willing to say that slowing down is an art, learned throughout life and cultivated through practice. Hence the title of this blog.

I hope to update at least once a week. What will it contain? Anything really. Ideas, notes, reflections, anything pertaining to cultivating this "art of slow" that has wrapped it's quiet fingers around my heart and gently urged me towards a more fulfilling life.

I hope you enjoy stopping by often and, above all, I hope the lessons I learn in this life long journey will somehow help you along in yours.

Cheers!
Jen