This recipe is from my childhood. I first ate this version at a friends house when I spent the night there. I came home begging my mom to get the recipe, which she did….and it was added to our regular rotation. I paired it with a rice recipe I got from a good friend in Texas, I’ll post that recipe next.
The prompt for our first ‘Painting from the Heart’ group was a treasure chest in the center of the table. We could use large card-stock, small construction paper, markers, pastels, glue, but no scissors.
The leaders explained the class, showed the treasure chest, read a poem about our hearts and then turned on an instrumental song. We were to first think about the condition of our heart at that moment and then write down all the words that came to our minds. After a few minutes we could start creating. After about 30 min. we were told to journal about what we saw in our artwork and give the piece a title.
The title of my work is called ‘Fully Alive’.
The words I jotted down were: broken, alive, tender, hard, flighty, excited, lonely, weary, full, pulsing, longing, wanting, dreaming, infected, stained, rhythmic.
I folded my very large card-stock in half (they suggested we use this to carry future work in, so I was thinking about how one side would be seen and one side would be unseen).
This is the side of my heart that is seen:
My journal entry: ‘The heart that most people see is clearly covered by the blood of Jesus – sprouting with some life – fruit, flowers, a bud or two, maybe an open flower and tiny tastes of fruit, sweet evidence of God’s work in my life. Those who get close enough to the center of my heart see the bruised heart of stone – depending on where they look.
A great way to start my early Birthday celebration: Tea, cornmeal scones with whipped cream (sub for clotted cream), Olallieberry jam and marmalade . But we needed some protein so….
I love this photo of our son at the beach. He is getting ready to skimboard, scoping out the conditions. Waiting before deciding whether or not to ‘go for it’. It’s a good picture of this stage of his life. Well, maybe a good picture of what it’s like to be a man.
Winston Churchill once said, “So they [the Government] go on in strange paradox, decided only to be undecided, resolved to be irresolute, adamant for drift, solid for fluidity, all-powerful to be impotent.”
Paradox is one of my favorite words. Growing up in a house where different views on doctrine and politics was really not allowed caused me to hate disagreements. Learning that two seemingly opposing truths could be equally true has helped me to rest in a world of uncertainty. It doesn’t mean there are no absolutes. It’s more that our finite minds are sometimes limited. Read the rest of this entry
The Scent of a Homemaker
(Cinnamon – ground)
She loves the fall. It’s her favorite season. The crisp air, the leaves changing colors, walking to the farmers market to buy fresh apples. She loves the crunch of those dried leaves under her feet.
It will be a long day and she knows she will be tired at the end, but she is filled with energy as she moves through the day.
The menu was planned days ago, the house is picked up but not spotless. She often has asked her dinner guests, “Which would you prefer, a clean house or a homemade pie?” There hasn’t been a person yet who has chosen an impressive home décor to homemade food. Read the rest of this entry
June 7, 2008
Washington Post’s Mensa Invitational
The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
7:30 AM: Do I have to get up now to use the toilet or can I sleep 30 more minutes? The sun is coming through the window, but what day is this? Do I have any reason to get up and rush into action or can I linger through the morning?
Oh yea, this is the day I’m going to start eating healthier. Roll over, try harder to ignore the bladder. Read the rest of this entry
Memory – The Sixth Sense
June 7, 2008
(Prompt – magazine photo of man & woman walking through a European town)
Traveling to Europe is an experience with sensory overload. Each step on the cobblestone streets sends vibrations through my body. The sound of my shoes on the uneven foundation keeps my focus on each step instead of the visual surroundings. My eyes race from architectural feature to natural environment.
What would it be like to live here? Not just visit, to really become a part of this community. Would the novelty of everything being foreign wear off quickly? How long before I stopped noticing the old brass rings for tying horses by the door? Would people here invite me into their world or put up with me until I moved away?
The best part is walking everywhere. One week in Florence and I physically feel better. There is strength in my body that I didn’t know was possible. Rushing to catch the train forces me to breathe deeper. Maybe that is why I feel more alive.
There is nothing like newness or should I say out-of-the-ordinary-ness to enliven the senses. They say scent is the most powerful sense for triggering memories. Strangely I remember the negative smell of some unknown German food more than I do the wonderfully positive aroma of the Italian food.
That is like me though. The negative (feeling sick) seems to be stronger than the positive. Or is it that the more unfamiliar has more impact?
“The way I see it, you should live everyday like its your birthday ”
— Paris Hilton
“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter, scraped over too much bread.~~
Bilbo Baggins on the occasion of his 111st Birthday”
— J.R.R. Tolkien (The Fellowship of the Ring)
“I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth. ”
— Publius Ovidius Naso (Metamorphoses) Read the rest of this entry