When Phlox Takes Over

I woke this morning determined to spend some time in the yard, hopeful that rain would not spoil my plans. After a breakfast of whole wheat crepes filled with fresh blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries, I donned some comfy clothes and ran to the store to pick up a few items including some Alyssum and some grass and begonias for my porch planters.

I quickly packed away the groceries, enjoyed a lunch of lemon Stilton and blueberry Stilton wedges, and dove into my flowerbed. I tied back my bleeding heart, training it upward rather than outward, and then started removing plants that had started to define their own space. I trimmed back the hostas, removed several ostrich fern stray children, and divided the blue, pink, and white Phlox in half. Phlox is one of those beautiful plants that delves deep into the soil. It says, "What's this, space? For me? Don't mind if I do!" You know their kind.

A plant-loving friend obliged me by taking on my castaway ferns, Phlox, and a few other items. She is one of those free-spirit gardeners who loves to just let things grow how they will. As I trimmed back the Irish moss and split and moved half of dwarf king's heart to another part of the bed, I thought about my carefully manicured garden and recalled a day when overgrowth to me was perfection.

Why control growth? As I Bonsai-shaped my lace Japanese maple tree, I thought about the yard of my childhood filled with wild grasses and unmaintained trees. I thought it was the most beautiful place on earth. I now believe there is a place for both philosophies. I must confess that Japanese gardens are most glorious and beautiful to me, because things are placed with such attentive detail that they grow into something that magnifies its natural beauty beyond anything it could achieve on its own. While we all need some freedom to become what we want to, we cannot truly achieve our full potential unless we are guided, pruned, and nourished in certain areas of our lives.

Late-Night Stream of Consciousness

Sometimes in the middle of the night, my mind chatters so loudly, that it nearly drowns out the shush of air through vents and the rhythmic breathing of my true love, stretched peacefully beside me. Tonight I rolled over and opened my iPhone, reading soothing white text on black to avoid the waking glare of light for those still sleeping. They were words that soothed my heart and calmed my soul.

I think about all of the changes, choices, decisions, blessings, opportunities, and challenges ahead. I think of life, and after watching a detailed documentary on the Glacier deaths in the 70s, I also think of death and how it makes life so much more precious. I think of feeling materially secure, and I think of how easily things can change and have changed for so many around us. I think of holidays and years gone by, of pajamas and pulsing colored Christmas tree lights. I think of work, and how much I have left to do, and that I now have one day left in which to do it. 

I think of being true to myself, even when it's the hard thing to do. I think of trust and how rare it has become in this world. I think of C singing pop songs to the birds in the kitchen as they sing along with loud and happy voices, and I wonder how I wrangled that slice of heaven out of the spaghetti bowl of turmoil in my life. 

I think (oddly enough) of how amazing the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints must be to be so positive when Broadway musicals are produced about them that contain so many half-truths, candy-coated lies, and fictitious scenarios billed as fact. I think about how I can be more positive like that, and try to make the best out of challenging or difficult situations. 

I think about trying to work over the weekend and holiday to get everything done I need to, and how much I really want to garden instead. I think about how it will probably rain, so I shouldn't count on gardening anyway. I think about the boys at the lake with a BB gun and a slingshot, trying to hit the graceful Night Heron, and finding a male mallard trying to revive his mate who was never going to wake up again. I think about the days and weeks to come, and the work that shouldn't be work, but is because society demands it. 

I think about sleep, and how I wish my eyelids would grow heavy and my mind would grow quiet so that I could finally fall fast asleep. And then I think about hitting Publish Post without looking for typos because at midnight typos are inevitable, but then I think I don't really care, and suddenly I can hear the shush of the air through the vents again, and the storm of percolating thoughts has slowed to a gentle trickle at last. I think about cinnamon toast and warm milk. At last, having purged all of the sleep-destroying thoughts from my mind, I know that tomorrow I need to get a loaf of bread so that the next time I get the urge to make cinnamon toast, I will be able to do so. 

Primetime: a Never Ending Sporting Event

Once upon a time, there were TV shows that conveyed families. Sure, there were kookie families like the Addams, and over-productive families like the Bradys, but they were families nonetheless. Today the going thing seems to be competitive reality shows: races, survival, Trumptious, dancing, skating, singing, showing off strange and often disturbing talent, and even competitive dating. Competition has taken the field, and we are all referees. What about this is appealing? As one who has helped develop various online communities, I suppose that some may argue that it is all about community and involvement, but there are ways to accomplish that without the competitive element.

Certainly, we all should celebrate one another for our individual achievements. My favorite story is the "overcoming the odds" story, the Rudy stories, the "pushed oneself to their physical limits" story. It is when the story deteriorates into the "must be better than" or "must make them look worse than me" story that I suddenly lose interest. I love seeing good sportsmanship. There is something magnificent and transcendent about the individual who rises above in behalf of another.

You may be wondering where all of this is coming from. It might have something to do with me watching a recent TV show or two where where I was just dying to see who won, and then afterward I reflected on my eagerness to watch. What was the point? The suspense? The drama? The apparent "unknown?" I decided that I had gained nothing of value from any of these.

I suppose you could say that I reexamined my time allotment. I have always been one who tried to maximize my time. I even turn off the radio during commercials because I don't want to sponge in meaningless ads. Resolution: I think I can find better uses of my time; I have more important things to do.

Interpretation vs. Fact

PART I: General Application
I might have mentioned that I had this really cool opportunity to meet with an management coach at work - I guess that despite my futile efforts to avoid management, I was identified as one individual to try this out. It came right when I needed it, really. I was trying so hard to do everything right, but those managing me were giving me some interesting feedback that was not very actionable. Rather than taking accountability and trying to seek for additional understanding, I let those words become weights on my soul. They circulated in my head like a never-ending rolls of subtitles, and I managed to get very discouraged. Nobody intended that when they gave me the feedback, but I took it very badly.

Since I am writing this for a friend, let me just say, I don't know if you have actual words or just ideas in mind, but since I have a semi-photographic memory, I could remember whole conversations and played the negative parts of them back, over and over again. It was VERY self-destructive.

Alas, enter coach. She asked me to tell her what had been said to me. I did. She asked, "Is that an interpretation or fact?" I started trying to explain this or that, but she interrupted, "Interpretation or fact?"

"Interpretation, I guess..." I said.

"If it's interpretation, then you just let it roll off of your back." She then proceeded to tell me a little secret about interpretations. When someone tosses an interpretation your way, you listen to see if there is any truth in it. If not, you just say in your mind, "Meh. Interpretation. They must be telling me something about themselves." If there was any truth in what they said, then it was my job to draw out the fact, thus:

"I'm not sure what you are saying there. Could you help me understand what you are saying in actionable terms?" She also helped me identify that when I had an emotional response to something someone said, that this is a good indicator that there might be some truth in it. If I didn't have an emotional response, I could just say, "It's not true," and move past it. So friend, what I am NOT saying here is that you are upset because there is truth in what you may have heard/read. What I AM saying is, if it's interpretation, it's just fluff! Don't let other people's interpretations bog you down from being A+ amazing you! Just let it roll and be confident that you are doing the right things at the right time for you in your situation. Giggle inside because they are probably revealing something about themselves, but be careful not to place interpretations on others' actions or words. Listen for fact, and ONLY fact. If there is no fact in what they say, it isn't worth a single thought in your vibrant and brilliant mind.

PART II: Personal Application
On a more personal note, and I mean personal because this is something I never talk about here. We have been unable to have children for almost 12 years now. At first, I was very discouraged, but I have this really cool relationship with God. Everyone can have the same thing, it's just that not everyone THINKS they can. Good grief, we are his CHILDREN. He doesn't ignore us or forget us. He loves us and more than anything, he wants us to be happy! We can talk to him just like we do a parent, and though there are people of faith who can guide us in our relationship with God, we can speak to him anytime, any day!

So I asked God what to do. I won't disclose all of the details, but I got an answer! Around that time I heard this story of a woman who had been without children for ten years and then things just worked out! She spent ten years being miserable, and when she finally had a child, she thought, "Why did I waste the last ten years being so sad?" I knew that it was going to be at LEAST ten years for me, because something whispered to my heart that this was going to be the case. I also knew I had a choice. I had already spent two years being unhappy each month, counting each late day, crying and feeling so painfully sad, and especially feeling judged.

I chose to be private about my situation because I didn't think it was anyone else's business. When people asked, I just told them how grateful I was for them respecting my privacy. There are always exceptions, like those who are in similar circumstances, but in general, procreation in marriage is very sacred and private, and anyone inquiring about intimate details of my life doesn't deserve the time of day. I know popular media communicates a different message about sexual relationships, but I have never been a Hollywood "sheep."

The other thing is that while you and your husband do need to ultimately know where the problem rests (and it could be both, of course), we made a decision early on that we would NEVER disclose those details to ANYONE, not even family. The fact of the matter: we are married, WE have this issue, and it is NOBODY's business as to the details. It has provided a very unified, beautiful relationship, which is exactly what God wants for all of us to have, whether you are religious or not. I know you have that relationship with your man, so keep it strong!

That's all I wanted to say. Little long for a comment, I am sure you will agree. Be Golden, Pony(less) Girl! :D E-mail me anytime. You bring so much beauty to this world!

P.S. I happen to be familiar with the health laws of your homeland and I am pretty confident you have been through the ringer already. My situation has taught me not to judge where others are in life, but to know that God has a different plan for each of us, and other's plans aren't any of my business. It's between that individual and God to figure that out.

TLC, XOXO
A

Moving to Seattle

Let's just be honest: my birds freak my dad out. These birds like very few people, but they adore him and clamber to leap to his shoulder. They then slowly move in for a nibble on his beautiful white mustache, and he draws back as if a tarantula were approaching him.

I always wondered what it would be like to move to Seattle, Washington. We visit there often, and it is just so lovely, rain and all. As it turns out, I have had that opportunity. I didn't have to pack a single box, or even move to a different home! Seattle came to visit me!

This has been one of the coldest, dampest springtimes yet. The rains just keep on coming, and in a place where drought is often a concern, one feels a bit sheepish complaining about all of the moisture. That being said, my lawn is beautiful and green and we haven't spent a penny on water for the lawn. The blossoms are just beginning to fade on my fruit trees, and a thick canopy of leaves has created perfect patches of shade beneath, generous invitations for sunny days outdoors.

I confess, I have decided that living in Seattle may not be as romantic and glorious as I previously believed. As a light sensitive person who normally looks forward to shedding sunglasses on overcast days, I never thought I would be longing for a morsel of sunlight.

For those who miss all of my photos, be patient. I still haven't gotten over the fact that Google capped my photo limit so now I have to upload everything to photobucket, resize, copy the html link, and paste the photo here. Grrrr. I finally decided that I am going to write with or without photos. Photos will eventually return, but for now, my picturesque words will have to do.

Foley and Luck

When we watch action films, which we often do, I am always amazed when C points out when a gun didn't make the right noise, or when that car or motorcycle sounded nothing like it should. Granted, he has been around weapons and motorcycles since his pre-teen years, but impressive nonetheless. His Foley skills aren't just limited to weapons and motorcycles, though. He is also extremely talented at identifying voices, even in animated films. His precision is so good that I think he must be aurally gifted or something.

Perhaps he missed his true calling as a Foley artist, or perhaps a technical and weaponry advisor. After 12 years of watching movies together, even I notice when the bad guy asks for a 'clip' when his weapon only takes magazines, or when a soldier refers to his weapon as a 'gun.' He was not only in charge of tending to the family "armory," but often visited his father's military friends who always had weapons within reach anywhere in the house (under the sofa cushions?). I suppose it's no surprise that when he started grad school while working full-time, C decided to pick up a part-time job at a local gun range to "help him relax." There he was able to shoot almost every weapon that came into the store, from historic pieces to elephant guns. A state champion, he was also well known throughout the state for designing and running innovative IDPA-style defense pistol competitive shoots.

I am always amazed at how well C networks as well, considering that his favorite evening off is chilling at home with me. One day I went to the local police station to pay for a speeding ticket, and ran into a friend of C's who is a prosecuting attorney. He waited until the officer got off of the elevator, and then asked me if he could get me out of my ticket as a favor to C. I thanked him, but kindly declined. It was a matter of principle, and while I have fought and won speeding tickets before, I chose to take responsibility for that one.

C doesn't look for friends who are flashy or rich, or who even have the same interests as him. He's comfortable around almost anyone, and one of the least judgmental people I know. In most marriages, there are moments where one partner calls the other partner out on some behavior that has driven them nuts for years, but C has never done that with me. He doesn't yell. I have listened to him speaking to others when he thought he raised his voice, but he has the most soothing, calm voice in the world, that even in anger it doesn't sound harsh at all.

Over the years, I have been the one who picked a handful of cards for family special events and brought them home for C to sign and send off. In fact, I would occasionally use my fave flower delivery service to send off a bouquet or two. The past few years C has completely shown me up. He buys his own Mother's Day and Father's Day cards early on and makes sure he calls his parents and grandparents early so that he won't forget.

Each year C plans an annual trip to visit his grandparents. He packs up his motorcycle and drives the long distance to spend time with them. He adores and respects his mom more than anyone I know. She is likewise non-judgmental and easy-going.

A few years ago I taught C how to make cookies. He now makes cookies often and takes them to the neighbors or to the children across the street when they have birthdays. Despite his love for cookies, C works out almost every day except Sundays, keeping himself healthy and strong.

I have never had to nag C about mowing the lawn or taking out the trash or changing the oil in the car. He is like clockwork. He always leaves the toilet seat down and chastises me when I get my own door. He dances with me in the kitchen, and gets me diet lemonades or egg drop soup when I am not feeling well.

Every day when C arrives home, our two little birds scream his name until he puts them on his shoulder. They are so tiny, and yet he is so gentle with them. They both adore him. Birds are smart, and I am convinced that the birds in our neighborhood have figured out that when he arrives home each day, the first thing he does is fill the bird feeders. He even invented a way to keep the snow off of their food in the winter.

I can't tell you how many times he has been the good Samaritan, helping someone stuck in the snow or reaching out to a neighbor in need, or stopping to help an injured animal. Indeed, I am sure there are many kind deeds I am unaware of. He is brilliant, magnificent, a super hero, a man of God and holy cow, how did I ever get so lucky to call this man my husband! Lucky, lucky me!

Rest assured that I will get chastised for talking about him here, because he is also a very humble man who isn't into self-aggrandizement or personal promotion. Let's instead call this, some well deserved wifely admiration. C, thank you for choosing me.

Vegetarianism

There are those in this world who deem the consumption of animal flesh as evil. Some follow a Yoga philosophy of "do no harm" and others are repulsed by the very thought. When I was seven years old, someone asked me what my favorite food was. Among the barrage of hamburgers and pizza, I alone responded with spinach soufflé, artichokes, and asparagus. I enjoy many vegetables, and have found that among the crazy diets of the world, if you eat a majority (70%+) of vegetables (not just potatoes, corn and carrots, but green things) at each meal and compliment them with whole grains, fruit, lean meat, and dairy, you can {gasp} lose weight without turning your back on a necessary food group. 


One of my family lines comes from "the south" in the United States. If you visit a restaurant in the south, you will commonly see an item like this: Bread and 4 vegetables. I am always interested to see what the vegetable options are. The list varies, but often includes selections like collard greens, corn on the cob, fried okra, potato wedges, baked beans, onion rings, and green beans cooked with bacon. As a teenager I finally discovered that my mother added sugar to our vegetables. It was a southern thing, and perhaps this is why southern children eat their vegetables, even at fast food restaurants. 


While I continue to eat a wide variety of vegetables (minus the sugar), I can never divorce myself from a patiently nurtured lean beef brisket or a perfect piece of salmon. As much as I respect vegetarianism, I still love my meat. That being said, when I am dining with a vegan or vegetarian, I always ask if they are comfortable with me eating meat in front of them.


Now that my carnivorous nature is out in the open, I came up with a lovely creation today. On my counter sat a butternut squash, about the size of a large Russian doll. I make butternut squash in a variety of ways that will make C eat it like candy, with a light dusting of cinnamon and brown sugar, for example (bet you can't guess where I got that idea...). 


Tonight I pulled out my Valentines Day J.A. Henckel chopping knife. Oh, but if you are able, these are the most glorious blades. Everything I ever hated chopping or cutting is now a dream. SNAP! and I had two perfect halves of a butternut. I quickly scooped them out while a package of lean ground beef thawed in the microwave, and did you know that oats make the most perfect grain addition for a meat filling? Truly. Diced onion atop the oats, followed by two string cheese sticks quartered lengthwise and chopped finely, salt, pepper,  chopped garlic, ground beef, and my secret ingredient, a splash of aged balsamic and mix with your hands. It's the only way to properly distribute all of the ingredients in my book. 


I stuffed the base of the butternut halves with the meat mixture, wrapped in foil (to keep the meat moist) and baked at 450* until the squash was tender. Absolutely heavenly. I am always the faithful wife who waits until my husband arrives home and greets him with a nicely cooked meal (even if after a long day of work that consists of leftovers or open face sandwiches). C is always the husband who tells me not to wait, to eat if I am hungry, and today I did just that. I enjoyed every single bite! When C arrived home just in time to keep me from eating his half, he agreed that this was a winner.


On a more picturesque note, let me leave you with this: http://whose-its.blogspot.com/2010/04/intimate-details-of-my-love-affair.html