A few words about the Weather

One of the things I started doing as I practiced living in the moment was to carry an umbrella more often. I decided that since the weather is something I cannot control, that I wouldn't think about it, talk about it, or cancel plans because of it (except in the case of tornados—that's a different story). I'd just carry an umbrella so if it rained, I'd be prepared.

You'd be amazed by how much this changed things for me. I came to enjoy the present moment. I coped better with extreme weather. Living in the present stopped the inner chatter that lamented a string of hot, muggy days or a month of rain.

In the moment I was able to remember that in summer it's hot. To think it might be otherwise is delusional. And in winter, there will be cold and wind and maybe snow. Living in the moment reminded me that nothing lasts forever, and so I stopped thinking about the unpleasantness that comes with Mother Nature's mood swings.

I also noticed that this new practice put me in the minority. Talking about the weather is a pasttime for many. A lot of energy is expended on the topic. Small talk is incessant. I'm not much for small talk to begin with, so when I stopped talking about the weather, I got quiet. For longer periods of time. And it felt good. My energy reserves were increased by not talking about things I cannot control.

Using weather as a practice in presence caused me to pay attention to the weather as I was experiencing it and to enjoy whatever was presented to me.

All of this came in handy one Sunday afternoon a few weeks back when my sister and her sons were in town. The plan was to go to the zoo, but clouds indicated rain was a possibility. We went to the zoo anyway. We dressed our kids in their swimsuits and flip flops. I carried an umbrella, and my sister wore a rain jacket.

It was a glorious afternoon. Our children jumped in puddles without a care in the world. Their mothers weren't worrying over their shoes and socks getting wet and muddy. We were living in the moment and it was great.

As our visit was winding down, we squeezed in a quick visit to the zebras and big cats. Storm clouds moved in. We hopped on the zoo's train and rode it back to the exit near where our car was parked. While we were on the train, those storm clouds opened up over the zoo. The rain came down hard. At first we were sheltered by the roof of the train, but then the wind picked up and the rain blew sideways into the seats. My sister and I turned around to watch our children all three squeezed into one seat take in the spectacle. They gasped as the cold hit their backs and arms and the mist sprayed their faces. They giggled with delight at getting drenched. Their giggles made us giggle.

We got off at our stop and the rain was falling in sheets. Our swimsuit-clad children were impervious to the wet. My sister tightened her hood around her head, and I held tight to my umbrella. We walked to the gift shop in the rain.

On the car ride home we talked about the afternoon and what our favorite moments were. The train ride in the rain was mentioned more than once. We could have decided that the rain would dampen our trip to the zoo and decided not to go. If we had, we would have missed out on the train ride—the memory maker of the afternoon.

3. Make Pie Crust from Scratch - CHECK.

Warning: This is a photo-dense post. There were lots of steps that needed to be captured. I'm not sharing as many photos as we took, but I'm sure it will feel like it.
Warning 2: You may become very hungry as you read this post. So much deliciousness was Made. From. Scratch.

My friends and I had such a great time together at my birthday lunch I decided it was time to get the girlfriends together again. Voldi (a nickname has been decided! She is no longer the Friend-who-cannot-be-nicknamed. Calling her Voldi DOES NOT imply she's evil. Mischievous yes, evil no. Spelling it with an “i” is my attempt at softening the name from it's original Voldemort.) (Fashionista, also a writer, came up with Voldi. Thank YOU for solving this naming problem for me!)

I digress.

“I've got a plan for your dinner party.” Voldi announced at work one day. “I've been looking at your 4040 list and you've got a ways to go. I propose we have a pie night. We'll make your pie crusts from your list and then what we make will be our dinner.”

I loved the idea and that Voldi always has my back—4040 list and otherwise.

I added pie crust to the list because it served as another challenge to my low confidence in the kitchen, and it also was a way to feel close to my grandmother, whose cherry pies in "from scratch" crusts, were amazing. I was never around when she made her pies and I wanted the opportunity to see if I could do it like she did.

Voldi and Fashionista arrived and we began the process. I was a little tired from my day's work in my back yard. In the moment, I felt overwhelmed by the task at hand, and would have been fine with them taking the lead. They were determined that I did all of the preparation with their help on the sidelines, and a few minutes in my energy level had improved.

We dusted off my maternal grandma's 1978 General Electric food processor. Using this machine should have been on my list. I cut myself on a Cuisinart blade one time and have had an aversion to the magnificent tool ever since. They convinced me that using the food processor would be quicker and having them with me could assuage my fears of said machine.

After 37 years the machine still worked and man, did it beat doing the mixing of dough by hand. I thought of my Grandma Steele and pioneer women before her who didn't have modern conveniences. They didn't need yoga to build strong arms. They baked pies!

Math Whiz (so named because she was a math major, and the friend who helped me figure out how long it would take to achieve 80,000 words of my rough draft) arrived as we were getting the first batch of dough in bags to chill.

The first pie crust provided a reminder about not expecting perfection. As you can see from the photo we had to piece it together into the pie plate.

I made the filling for the spinach quiche. NOTE FOR NEXT TIME: when using frozen spinach, let it thaw and then squeeze out the excess water.

While the quiche baked, we worked on the peach pie.

Behaving like a seasoned baker, I made the suggestion that we pair the fresh peaches with fresh raspberries. Everyone agreed that it would be a nice combination. THIS IS A SIGNIFICANT MILESTONE FOR ME IN THE KITCHEN. Adding another fruit to a recipe shows a confidence in cooking that is still very new. I was so happy that my friends liked the idea!

The second and third crusts were colder and therefore far easier to roll out and place into and on top of the pie plate. I felt like a dang expert by the third time.

Long story short, the evening was delightful in every way. While we waited for our dinner and dessert to bake, we talked about books and work, redecorating and life in general. When I look back over all the fun I've had in my fortieth year celebrating life and a new decade, this evening will stand out as one of the highlights of the year. This baking/cooking-with-your-guests model is the way I'd like to entertain and extend hospitality while my confidence in the kitchen continues to rise.

I will absolutely bake pie crust from scratch again. I will also use the food processor with regularity. At the end of the night as we were saying our goodbyes, Voldi said, “I am so proud of you. You did a really good job baking tonight.” There's nothing like good friends telling you they are proud of you.

Making my way through this list is reminding me that the small quiet moments really are what make life so good. Creating occasions and reasons to celebrate instead of waiting for them to roll around is enriching and my favorite way to live. The “big” moments in life are simply too few and far between.

Last night was delicious. Simply delicious. And I know my grandma would be proud of the finished products.

Happiness and confidence personified.

Laughter is a key ingredient in the recipe of friendship with these women.

This text from Fashionista's teenage son was fantastic!

PS: We missed you, Design Maven (also named by Fashionista.)

Weeds and Words

I am sitting at my laptop still sticky and sweaty from a day spent outside tidying up the weeds that surround my patio. I'm having a patio party this evening with a small collection of my dearest girlfriends, so the patio weeds finally got some attention in preparation for their arrival.

My fingernails show evidence of the work. The spaces between my fingers where I grasped the more stubborn weeds are tender and on the inside of my thumb is a blister with exposed skin. All of these are signs of a warm, partly cloudy Saturday well spent.

Weeding is a lot like decluttering for me. It creates space for thinking, clearing my mind, and seeing progress at the end of the project. What I thought of the most as I yanked and raked, yanked and raked was my paternal grandmother.

Maxine Elizabeth's natural habitat was in her gardens. I'm certain she was more comfortable around her chrysanthamums and lilies than she was around most people. I consider myself supremely fortunate that I was one of the flowers that blossomed under her skillful attention and gentle care.

She and my grandfather created such natural beauty among their flower gardens that strangers often stopped to have a look.

I remember as I got older trying to ask her questions for future use, but sadly without a yard of my own yet, most of her wisdom blew away with time. Today's weeding session was like time travel. My work took me back to different parts of the yard that seemed vast from my young perspective.

“You really should wear a pair of gloves as you do this work,” I imagined her gentle scolding. And I heard my imaginary reply, “But Grandma, yanking out the weeds feels more satisfying bare handed.” I know she'd smile, roll her eyes and keep working.

I missed the chatter that would bounce leisurely between the two of us and the guaranteed laughter that would spring up like something beautiful in her garden.

I wondered what she'd say about the mess of weeds I have up the hill in the space that was once somewhat landscaped, but now only manufactures weeds by the bushel. What would her advice be about how to tackle that mess?

I thought about safe I always felt in her presence. How like a character from Anne of Green Gables, she indeed was a kindred spirit.

I admired her physical strength and stamina to do the physical work she did well into her 80s as I kept wimping out going inside for a breath of air conditioned air, and then a popsicle, and for an episode of The Office before returning to the patio and finishing the job.

I considered that the worries and qualities that made her difficult to be around might have been eased with her time outdoors. I suspect it was the only therapy she might have considered.

The job is done—for now—and I'm certain she'd be proud of my effort and my desire to “spiff up” my backyard as she would say. I know that she's my muse as I approach my writing every day. I pray she'll be show up in my back yard too.

A few words about VBS

For more than ten years, I have volunteered at my congregation's Vacation Bible School. I lead the songs at the beginning and ending of each evening. I love watching as the kids learn the songs, do the actions, and then pick their favorites. I love when they make song requests!

I enjoyed volunteering before I was a mother, and I love it now even more as I watch my daughter take part in and enjoy the activities.

Each evening, the children spend time with biblical characters who teach them about the theme. This year the children are meeting Mary, Jesus's mother, and Eunice, a busybody neighbor of Mary's. Eunice is a real peach. At the last minute, I was asked to fill-in and play the part of Eunice. This character is cranky and nosy and bossy. And as the week has gone on, I've come to really enjoy playing her.

I'd already done my first Eunice part of the evening and was standing in costume by the snack table for my next appearance. “Eunice, you keep scaring us when you come to Mary's house and knock on the door!” one of the children told me as he ate his snack. “You still don't believe in Jesus do you? We believe in him.” I didn't expect all of this, so I quickly jumped back into character and answered his questions. Other children piped up. “We love when you scare us. Scare us again tonight!” they pleaded.

Aside from helping make a bible story come alive for these kiddos, playing Eunice gave me a behind-the-scenes opportunity to hear my daughter interact in her class with Mary. One evening, Mary was talking about when Jesus was a little boy and what it was like in his home. “How do you feel when you're at home?” Mary asked the children. From behind the tent set up in our sanctuary, I thought I heard my daughter answer, “Safe and sound.”

There were a lot of voices answering Mary that night, so after the children left Mary's home and ran on to the next activity I approached my friend who is playing Mary. “Did Cadence respond to your question about how they feel in their home? Their were so many voices, I wasn't sure if I heard her voice or not. Mary smiled and her face softened. She nodded. “Yes, she told the group she felt safe and sound. And then other kids shouted other answers that didn't quite fit with the lesson, and Cadence told me, “My answer was the most appropriate answer for the question we were talking about.”

It cracks me up when she says the word appropriate and in the proper context. Clearly, it's something we talk about regularly. Mary and I hugged. “Good job, Mama,” my friend told me.

Those are the moments a mama hopes for. Confirmation that in the midst of hectic morning routines, cranky bedtime wrastlings, and general parent-child interactions, that our children reflect back to us in their own words that we're doing a good job.

I wouldn't miss this week each summer for anything. I love the way the Spirit moves. VBS creates community and opportunities to feel close to God in the midst of busy life.

A few words about Goals - Part Two

Before I left for the writing retreat, I set the goal of reaching 65,000 words in my novel. Just because.

And I reached it.

A few days before I left, I told my friend, the Friend-who-cannot-be-Nicknamed (Believe me, I've tried to find a good, SHORT, blog moniker for her and so far, it cannot be done), "I've decided not to set any goals for my time in Montana.”

FWCBN smiled and said, “I think that's a really good idea. You are the goaliest person I know right now.”

“Me too! I've never set goals like I have in the past six months, but it's working for me, so I keep doing it.”

It's a really good thing I didn't set goals for my time in Montana because I would have been unable to achieve them. It was wonderful to just let each day greet me and to welcome what it had in store for me from moment to moment. It was an intense five days and my energy was zapped.

A few weeks after I returned and my functional use of words returned, I was talking all things writing with Mantra Friend. “You know you're building a writing career, don't you?”

“Yes, I actually do realize that.”

“Well, have you set your goals for what you want to achieve?”

I got a little feisty when I answered. “I want to get published, Mantra Friend. That's the goal. But how do you set a goal for something you cannot control???”

More conversation ensued, and I finally agreed to think about some writing-specific goals. What worked was taking getting published off the table entirely and thinking about the things I could control.

I can't control getting published, but I can control how much work I submit. I can't submit anything if I am not writing.

Once I got those things straight, the goal setting became much easier.

After a few days of contemplation, this is what I came up with:

Objectives: To Build my Portfolio, Platform, and Freelance Opportunities

Under one year:
1. Retool my LinkedIn profile into a writer's profile.
2. Publish at least two blog posts per week.
3. Meet with other writers monthly.

Within 18 months:
1. Complete second draft of Astrid's story.
2. Apply to Haven II in Montana.
3. Write a new short story per month.

Within 3 years:
1. Begin second book project using Camp Nanonwrimo online.
2. Submit a piece of writing for publication or contest per month including www.fullgrownpeople.com.
3. Register for Washington University Summer Writers Institute Fiction Track.

These goals are stretchy and attainable. They are centered on building my practice of writing rather than focusing on the results of my writing. It feels liberating and exhilarating to have these goals spelled out.

“You're going to be a writing machine,” Mantra Friend exclaimed when he read my list of goals.

“That's sorta the point,” I said.

Writing machine. I like the sound of that.

18. Go on a Yoga Retreat or Take a special yoga Workshop – CHECK

I checked off #18 on my list while I was at the Haven writing retreat in Montana. After mornings of discussing and practicing the craft of writing, our afternoons were designed to get out of our heads and into our bodies. That notion has become a theme for me and the reason there are so many physical activities on the 4040 list.

I signed up for the two-hour yoga class. When I first began practicing yoga, I was hesitant about taking a class from anyone other than the two teachers I was familiar with. Now four years later, I welcome the opportunity to practice with new teachers. It feels adventuresome to not know exactly what to expect and I always learn something(s) new. My time with Samantha in the yoga studio on the Walking Lightly Ranch was no exception.

There were just two of us writers in this afternoon class. The windows were open and we were serenaded by a choir of birds hanging out in the trees around the building.

We began class on our backs, connecting with our breaths and sinking into the experience. Samantha guided us to consider the space from the crown of the head to the pelvic floor being the bridge that links our bodies to our thoughts and soul. She described it much more beautifully than I am here, but I was trying to be present in the moment and didn't have notepaper and pencil next to me. Part of that “getting out of your head” thing. I stayed present in my breath and body, but knew I was hearing something very cool and wanted to remember at least a bit of it for writing about later.

During a different part of class, we stood with our feet hip width apart. Here was my second new insight. I'd had a different notion of what hip width was. Before this class, I had measured hip width by the ball and joint at the point where the leg meets the backside, so the stance would be wider. When Samantha said hip width, she referenced the bones on the front of the body near the abdomen. From this perspective, one's feet are much closer together. As I was making this discovery, I was reminded how yoga teaches body awareness in a way I have never experienced before.

Which leads to another form of body awareness on that day. By the time I was taking this class I had been eating vegan for three days and my digestion was in havoc. My polite term for this is digestive distress. While I was uncomfortable and wishing I was feeling better, it was also an opportunity to reflect on the experience of eating such delicious, nourishing food lovingly made by our cook, Michelle, and to practice breathing through difficult, uncomfortable moments. This has been one of the enduring lessons yoga has brought into my life, and the one that keeps finding me off the mat.

Two hours passed. It was amazing how it went quickly and slowly all at once. Except for the digestive distress, I was not ready for the class to end. It felt so good to breathe deeply, move gently, and to continue to process the intense experience of the writing retreat.

I'm thrilled that the 4040 list intersected with my Haven retreat. Both experiences continue to profoundly shape me.

Just 23 items left to mark off the list.

A Few Words about Word Count

I know now a week after hitting my goal of 80,000 words why that became such a singular focus.

Just two summers ago, I studied creative non-fiction at the Washington University Summer Writers Institute. There I came to understand that I love writing so much--the stringing of words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs--that I will always do it regardless of whether my words land in the pages of a book or magazine or simply remain in my growing collection of journals. That I could call myself a writer simply because I love doing it and regardless of where my work landed was an epiphany.

At the time, I labored over a story that I'd been writing in my head for twenty years. I workshopped it in class and on the weekends I continued to mold it like a lump of clay in a sculptor's hands. The narrative became my final project and I was so pleased with how it came out. But it was seven pages long. The effort it took to produce those seven pages felt like seventy, and so at the time, I heard a tiny door shut. I had thought this story would be a book one day. But I'd basically said all I needed say in those seven pages. I heard myself say, "Well, that must mean there's not a book in me after all. Just essays and other random non-book-length pieces." And so for the past two years as I kept talking to myself about squeezing daily writing into my already full schedule, I kept book length at arms length.

And then I challenged myself to write fiction. Day-by-day my imagination met me at my lap top and new stuff appeared. And kept coming. And I felt good. Really good. Empowered. Capable. And so, I kept writing (not without the encouragement of friends). That's where the 80,000 word goal originated. I wanted to see these days of writing pile up. To prove to myself that I had more than seven pages of anything in me.

And so I did. I have 212 to date. My characters have turned off the light and are having a little nap in my mind. I miss them already and once in awhile I check on them like a parent who slips into her daughter's room. But I'm letting them sleep. We'll all know when it's time to wake up and start working together again.

For now, it's enough carrying around my notebook of words. I did it. And now I know I am capable of so much more.