A Yankee Woman in the South

A Bump in the Road

2011-10-09T15:24:00.001-04:00

Last week, the PC acronym took on a different meaning for me. Bob came home with the results of a recent biopsy: Prostate Cancer.

In the month since the procedure, the initial follow up appointment was rescheduled due to an emergency in the doctor’s office. We learned that the results of these procedures are not given to the patient over the phone. But, should there be reason for concern, an appointment would be scheduled right away.

I wondered what amount of cancer cells constitutes reason for concern. Perhaps to medical specialists, this was not cause for concern. But for us, who had been living under the assumption that no news was good news, it was disconcerting. Apparently, even the doctor wasn’t expecting this result. His comments during the procedure led us to believe that Bob might well receive a clean bill of health. But such is not the case.

In the days between the diagnosis and our meeting with the radiologist to determine the best course of treatment, I did what any sane, caring wife would do. I did an Internet search for prostate cancer. I avoided the “miracle cure” sites and opted for legitimate medical sites. As it turns out, my husband joins the majority of the male population. According to some statistics, more than 80 percent of men will eventually be diagnosed with prostate cancer. When diagnosis occurs later in life, when men are in their 70s or 80s, it is seldom treated because it is a slow-growing cancer that is rarely life threatening.

Still, the thought of cancer cells multiplying anywhere in my husband’s body and threatening his health brings home those random concerns about our mortality. That occasional stray thought, “what would I do, where would I go if, God forbid, something were to happen to him,” is now more than a distant possibility. It may be a reality that we need to face sooner rather than later. At the very least, perhaps we need to be having more than flippant conversations about end-of-life decisions. Maybe we really do need to update our decades-old wills.

I also shared our news with a limited number of friends—women I know I can trust to keep a confidence and uphold us in prayer. Just being able to say the words and explain what we know about the options helps me acknowledge the reality.

My usually stoic husband contacted a colleague who had the same diagnosis in recent years.

“What’s your Gleason score?” he asked.
It’s a new language we’re learning. Prostate-Specific Antigen (PSA) levels, cancer stages, Gleason scores, and treatment options. Somehow, learning to speak it is therapeutic in an odd sort of way. Knowing someone who has faced the decisions that he’s facing, as well weighing their possible side effects is the real therapy. We’re not the first couple to face this. And the odds that we may come through this only slightly worse for the worry and concern are looking better.

The meeting with the radiologist is surprisingly relaxed and very informative. Time seems of no concern to him as he reviews the various treatments, their historical results and anticipated side effects. Surgery, proton treatment, radiation, radioactive seeds—all have their advantages and disadvantages. But what is best in this particular situation? We come away satisfied that we have the information we need to make the best decision for him—for us. He will undergo 6-7 weeks of 5 day/week radiation treatments.

Preparation for radiation involves placing a number of gold markers in the prostate to insure that the radiation beams hit their marks. I suggest that we tell folks, “we invested in gold this week and have hidden it someplace it will never be found.” I'm not sure that comment should be repeated in polite company, but Bob appreciated the humor. And that, along with prayers for complete eradication of those cancerous cells, is my most fervent prayer—that the man who has been my life companion for nearly 40 years, retains not only his health, but his healthy sense of humor and generous, selfless spirit.
Now, nearly two weeks after diagnosis, we’re approaching the next few months of treatment as a bump in the road—grateful for an early diagnosis and a highly treatable form of cancer. Despite the report from the U.S. Preventative Task Force this week questioning the reliability and possible overuse of the PSA test, every woman should encourage the men she cares about to get their PSA levels checked.

A Lighter Shade of Pale

2011-04-18T21:34:00.000-04:00

Who would have thought there good be so many shades of one color? Anyone who has spent anytime in the paint section of home improvement story lately.

I/we are slowly moving toward a major painting project that we've talked, but done little about for 2+ years--for several reasons. The area in question is about 2/3 of our house and the primary living area, including the kitchen/family room. It's not that I spend an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen, but just thinking about the disarray that painting induces, gives me a headache. So there's that. And the fact that these areas are part of a large open floor plan that has no clear beginning and ending spots. So once we begin, it's all or nothing. Reason #1 to put it off.

The other reason has been not knowing what color to paint it. Currently, it's the safe beige that contractors spray on everything they build. I'm ready to put my own color/personality on it, but what? I thought I had finally hit on the perfect shade of yellow to perk things up a bit, but not overpower. But alas, the sample is just not what I thought it was going to be. So three samples and swatch-marked walls later, I think I've decided on two complementary shades - Bonnie Cream and Whisper Yellow...or was it Gold Buttercup? And how much do they pay someone to come up with these color names? I think the painting may actually be the easy part!

Withdrawal, Addiction & Lent

2011-03-09T22:16:00.000-05:00

I'm going through withdrawal. Oh, not the physical/substance abuse/addiction kind of withdrawal. A more mental/emotional withdrawal. I've recently wrapped up two major projects that have had me running at about 110 percent since the beginning of the year. (Hence the lack of posts in recent months.) They say at a certain point in a run, runners reach a high, when they are operating at their optimum. I don't ever expect to experience a runners high, but I have to admit, there's a certain adrenaline rush I get from being productively busy.

This week I'm re-adjusting to a slower pace and asking myself, "What idol makes me crave such busyness?" I might argue it's my servant-hearted attitude - that when something needs doing, and I feel I have the ability to do it, it doesn't feel right to say no. But I wonder if there's something else. If success, being needed and acknowledged for my gifts aren't the gods that drive me to action?

Today is the first day of Lent. I've never practiced Lent in the traditional Catholic practice of giving something up in preparation for Easter. But I do expect to use this time to reflect and take stock. In doing so I hope to gain a clear sense of God's direction for the coming months.

A New Christmas Tradition

2010-12-17T11:50:00.001-05:00

One of Bob's family's Christmas traditions is making Tukare - or meat pies. It's a French-Canadian recipe handed down from his dad's family. Their recipe uses ground pork and boiled and mashed potatoes, seasoned with spices not typically associated (in my mind) with meat: cinnamon, allspice, and cloves. Given the unusual combination of ingredients, meat pie is definitely an acquired taste. Even after 30 some years, none of our children have acquired it.
In years past, my mother-in-law and her sister set aside an evening and a day a few weeks before Christmas for assembling 12-18 pies. They froze them, then thawed and reheated them for Christmas morning. Any family and friends that were around were welcome to stop by for a piece. I found it interesting that my mother-in-law remained so committed to a tradition that had come from her husband's family - especially interesting that when she remarried the step family adopted it, too.
I attempted to make my first pies 10-15 years ago and have made them sporadically since then, more consistently since we moved away from family. I've never been quite as enamored of them as Bob and his family are, but I tried to play the good wife and acquiesce to the tradition. This year, as I'm juggling three part-time jobs, it seemed only right that the one who is so committed to carrying on the tradition have a hand - if not his entire body - in seeing to it that there were meat pies in the Hagey home this year. To my surprise, he consented with little resistance. And so it was - that last weekend found Bob cooking, peeling, mashing, simmering, assembling, and baking the infamous tukare. I have a hunch he might just find these the best he's ever tasted! What a great tradition!

The Face of Homelessness

2010-10-31T21:01:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I saw the faces of homelessness in east Orlando. They did not look the way I expected them to.
Every Saturday, our church, University Presbyterian, provides breakfast in the park for homeless people, through its Manna Ministry. Our small group volunteered to help this week. I expected the group would be primarily men--it was; older--it wasn't; unkempt--some were, but by no means all. I'm not entirely sure how I expected them to look. I guess I assumed it would be obvious by their attire and demeanor that these folks were down and out. But it wasn't. Yes, some had obviously not had access to a shower for several days, perhaps weeks. But the majority actually appeared pretty put together.
I did not expect to see a young couple with a baby, a young bare-chested man, barely 20, a young attractive woman who could have been a coed sporting the latest grunge wear. She told us she works part-time at a local university, only recently got a telephone and has no means of transportation. I'm not sure all these folks are homeless in the sense they have no permanent address or a place to sleep at night, but obviously, they are marginalized. If not homeless, living on the edge. Each must have their own unique story of misfortune, poor choices, or the impact of the recession on their life.
I have not really stopped to analyze my motivation for helping yesterday. Our pastor has been preaching a series of sermons on living missionally - actually living out the gospel. A few weeks ago, in a message on social justice, he made the point that guilt is really not an effective, long-term motivator for getting involved in issues of social justice. Most of us will soon weary of doing good only out of guilt. Gratitude, he said, is a much more effective motivator. Gratitude for God's grace and mercy in our own lives ought to prompt us to share the blessings of life in Christ with those around us. If I'd done much thinking at all about my motivation before yesterday I think I saw my involvement as a feeble effort to be Jesus to people who needed a tangible demonstration of a loving God. I hope they saw and heard that in my service.

What the people we served yesterday likely don't know is the impact they had on me. I saw Jesus in them. Jesus told a would-be follower, "Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but I have nowhere to lay my head." Forget creature comforts if you're going to be my disciple. Ouch... because it's my creature comforts that keep me from totally relying on and trusting God - not just for my next meal, but for the very air I breathe. But the folks I served yesterday - at the end of their resources - are utterly dependent on the grace of God, rendered through the kindness of others. Maybe learning - and relearning that lesson - is sufficient motivation to continue serving the least of these.

4 Sale!

2010-10-25T08:28:00.000-04:00

Since I started working from home more than a year ago, I had used the kitchen island as my work space while we mulled other options for a dedicated work space for me. A couple of months, ago I ran across an office layout that we decided we could make work for us, with a minimum layout of cash. It meant having an L-shaped desk top custom made and getting rid of the computer roll top desk we'd bought four years ago. While I'm still tweaking the new office layout and mostly loving it, we have not yet been successful in selling the desk. A craigslist posting generated only one inquiry, and that, apparently, a scam - a gentleman inquiring while on his honeymoon in Hawaii. Yea, right. May I suggest your marriage may be happier if you focus on your new bride on your honeymoon, rather than prowling craigslist. Sheesh.
Saturday was community rummage/garage sale day in our neighborhood, so we decided to see if we could make a sale. It was barely daylight when potential buyers began perusing the goods in the neighbors' driveways, so we quickly set up shop with the desk and a defunct sewing machine. Yea, I know, not much of an inventory.
Interesting experience, though. Amazing the number of people that do drive-by rummaging. Obviously, they are on a mission for one, presumably large, item that can be spotted from the road. I will admit, that when I took a morning walk to check out the other garage sales, I could determine from a glance, whether it was worth my time to cross the street and check out the goods. Mostly I attribute that to the fact that since we shifted into downsizing mode a few years, we rarely rummage. There's just not much we need or have room for anymore.
One woman took the opportunity to proselytize - after all -- she certainly had a captive audience. She opened our encounter with an admiring comment about the desk. Warm and friendly, she quickly turned to her mission - giving me a copy of her church's magazine. I was able to politely decline. Must admit I'm shamed by her passion and commitment to testify to her faith at every opportunity - even a garage sale.
The defunct sewing machine - free for parts - generated little interest and no takers. We decided to take a chance on leaving it at the end of the driveway and hope that someone might take it off our hands. It worked. When we returned after being gone for a few hours, it was gone. I guess people feel better about taking something for free when no one is around to see them take it?
Of the three items on our driveway (besides a vehicle) - the desk, sewing machine, and the bench we were sitting on - guess which one got the most inquiries? The bench, naturally. If we'd have had half as much interest in the desk as we had in the bench, I think we might have made a sale. I guess rummagers figure anything is fair game. If bargaining is the name of the game, perhaps you can even convince people to sell something that isn't nailed down.
Anyway - strike 2 on the desk. Next stop for the desk - a consignment shop. Here's hoping for a quick sale.

Seeds of Turmoil

2010-10-09T22:08:00.003-04:00

In Seeds of Turmoil, Bryant Wright, the recently elected head of the Southern Baptist Convention, traces the roots of the Middle East conflict beyond Israel's 1948 establishment as a nation, to its Biblical roots. He asserts that Abraham's decision, suggested and encouraged by his wife, Sarah, to sleep with her maid, Hagar, in an effort to produce an heir, demonstrated not only a serious lack of faith, but is the source of the ongoing conflict in the Middle East. Abraham and Hagar’s union produced Abraham’s first-born, Ishmael. Yet God’s promise to Abraham that he would be the father of many, was to be fulfilled with Sarah. When Abraham and Sarah were long past their child-bearing years, God blessed them with Isaac, the child of the promise, setting up the sibling rivalry that continues today.
Wright provides an important service in surveying the biblical and historical events that produced Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, and tracing the history of the area from biblical times to present day. Yet, Wright reads Scripture through different lenses than I do, and it colors his understanding and interpretation of both ancient and modern history.
I mention only two of several points at which I take issue with Wright: the nature of God’s covenant promises to Abraham, and political reality.
Wright argues that God’s covenant promises to Abraham - to make him a great nation and to give his descendants the land he inhabited - continue to this day. Thus, he maintains, Israel, as Abraham’s divinely appointed heirs, have a right to the geographic boundaries laid out in the Old Testament. This is a significant point at which Wright and I differ in our understanding of Scripture. I believe that the New Covenant, promised throughout the Old Testament, is fulfilled in Jesus Christ and supersedes the Old Covenant. God did, indeed, choose to reveal his purposes for humanity through Israel. He placed them in a strategic crossroads between two major continents to be salt and light to the nations around them. At the same time, throughout the Old Testament, God continues to point to a new and better covenant - a covenant to be written on the hearts of all believers; a covenant not bound to a geographic location, but lived out in the lives of those who recognize Jesus Christ - in his death, resurrection, and eternal reign, as the fulfillment of the covenant. The covenant or God’s Kingdom is no longer confined to a geographic area in the Middle East, but is carried on in the redeemed people of God. Thus, to argue, as Wright does for Israel’s God-given stake to the land is, in my opinion, a misunderstanding of God’s intent and purposes.
Wright’s view of Scriptures leads him to view history through blinders. He sees what he wants to see. He points repeatedly to Israel’s miraculous survival since 1948 – surrounded by and overcoming enemies twice their size and capacity. He sees Israel's success in the Arab-Israeli War which established their independence and the 1967 Six-Day War as evidence of God’s purposes and desires for Israel. He completely ignores the political reality that without U.S. military aid, Israel would hardly be able to withstand the assaults on their nation. One-fifth of the United State's entire foreign aid budget goes to Israel. That hardly makes Israel David to their neighbors Goliath.
The Middle East is a complex situation for historical, geo-political and economic reasons. Wright touches only the surface of the problem, and hence, in my opinion, offers a rather simplistic solution. There will be no peace in the Middle East until the Lord returns. In the meantime, we should pray for peace (agreed),and love Jew and Arab alike (agreed.) But to assert that Israel is God's highly favored nation with a divine right to exist, is misreading Scripture.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Saturday on the Wekiva River

2010-09-09T20:44:00.002-04:00

Saturday the Friends of the Wekiva River sponsored an outing - a 9-mile float on the Wekiva - one of the (in our opinion) more beautiful natural areas in Central Florida. It was an inexpensive ($20 for canoe rental and shuttle back to starting point), informative (a local historian shared some of the history and lore of the area), and relaxing outing. It helped to be paddling down river. A few sights along the way:


A Great Blue Heron


Turtle sunning itself


Lily pads in bloom

This pretty much captures the experience. I call it solitude.

2010-08-31T22:00:00.000-04:00

Make a digital scrapbook

Happy Lefthanders Day

2010-08-13T12:57:00.001-04:00

I'm not normally a big fan of madeup holidays, but this is my day - a day to acknowledge the challenges of being lefthanded in a righthanded world and to note our creative contributions!
Supposedly righthanded people operate out of the left side of their brains, lefties out of the right side - thus the assertion that we are the ones in our right mind.
But seriously, we lefties make some adaptations that righthanders rarely consider. When dining, we instinctively go for the corner seat that leaves our left arm free, thus avoiding clashing elbows. We learn to operate appliances and power tools with dexterity - after ruining a cord or two. I grew up before manufacturers made ambidexterous appliances i.e. with the cord coming out from the top as opposed to one side. The iron was my greatest nemesis growing up. I melted more than one ironing cord before discovering irons designed for either left- or righthanded folks. That may explain my continuing aversion to ironing!
Righthanded desks may not be the problem for lefties today that they were in my student days, since I assume the majority of students are now taking notes on their laptops, not wrangling with a righthanded desk in their lefthanded world. But it may explain why some lefties have adopted the strange overhanded writing position. It's the only way to find some space, albeit limited, to rest your arm.
Cutting is another activity that most lefties find challenging. I've had a lefthanded fabric scissors since I was thirteen, and have made sure I've had lefthanded scissors onhand since then. Ironically, I learned recently that my own children didn't realize until well through their elementary grades that cutting did not have to be painful. Aha - a dose of my medicine - growing up righthanded with a lefthanded mother!

In honor of International Lefthanders Day, I decided to break out my lefthanded mug for my morning coffee. Alas, even my mug, produced by Lefty, Inc. failed me: the text, Everyone is born righthanded; only the greatest can overcome it, is positioned for righthanded pickup! It's OK - I've learned to adapt!

Breaking Up (Housekeeping) Is Hard To Do

2010-08-04T21:13:00.001-04:00

It's been a month since we spent a week helping my 90-year-old mother-in-law clean out her home of nearly 50 years - another step toward finalizing her move to an independent living facility. Time to gain a bit of perspective - and the perspective of time and distance are helpful in such an emotionally charged situation.
Having downsized ourselves in recent years, I have some empathy for the painstaking process of deciding what to do with all the things that we tend to accumulate--children's school papers, wedding programs, outdated, but still usable household items, souveniers and mementos. Disposing of them is, well, so final. Finding a suitable home often futile, as others are not nearly so enamored of our treasures as we are. One man's treasure - another's trash. But in the senior years, the whole process is underscored by our own mortality. As the body and mind are failing, we must reluctantly acknowledge that our remaining days on this earth are fewer than those we've already enjoyed. That can be disconcerting.

   That's not to say the entire week was morbid and depressing. We actually enjoyed a number of surprising and light-hearted moments - like discovering two fox furs in the cedar chest. Turns out one of my mother-in-law's brothers spent time Alaska in his youth and sent the furs to his sisters back in the Midwest. My mother-in-law is hardly a fur-wearing type of woman, hence the surprise when we lifted the lid on the cedar chest and found two pair of beady fox eyes staring back at us.
   And, of course, Bob's childhood artwork, tucked away among school papers and Boy Scout badges, and his favorite stuff animals provided a few good laughs and not a little ribbing from his children. His sister's oh-so-honest 5th grade book review, "Of all the books I could have read, this is not the most exciting," also elicited a few chuckles.
   My greatest take-away from the experience, however, is a renewed resolve to be more sensitive to the loss such a move represents, and, if not encourage, at least allow her to grieve. Honestly, it's a loss we all grieve in some way. After all, there will be no more extended family gatherings at the family home, no more pool games and endless games of dominoes around the dining room table. And while my mother-in-law has moved to an independent living facility, she really has given up a great deal of independence. She now depends on others for transportation and meals. Convenient in some ways, but a tangible loss and reminder that things are no longer, nor will they be again, what they once were.
   But, while we grieve the losses that are an inevitable part of aging and the changes that go with it, I'm equally resolved to hold ever more loosely to my possessions. Despite her repeated reminder that there are no U-hauls following a hearse, my mother-in-law struggled to let go of things. Even assuring her that a Salvation Army client needed her aging household items more than she did, hardly assuaged her. Maybe I just resent her ability to remember the details surrounding nearly every item in her home - when, where, and why she got it. And I realize, thanks to a wise friend, that these things are the triggers that help her remember and assure her that she is not losing her mind along with her independence. But, in the end, you really can't move everything from a 2000-square foot house into a 665 square-foot apartment. And being able to let go, it seems to me, is an important part of aging gracefully and graciously. Oh, that I can remember these lessons when my time comes.

You Can Be Everything God Wants You To Be

2010-06-30T08:20:00.001-04:00

Max Lucado's, You Can Be Everything God Wants You To Be, is a quick read on a subject nearly everyone wrestles with at some point in their life - what is the point or purpose of my life? I wondered how such an encompassing subject could be covered in the size of a small gift book? Surprisingly well, I discovered.
Lucado has a gift for making the profound and complex easily understandable. He does the same here. In bite-size pieces he covers our uniqueness as persons made in God's image, each with a set of gifts and innate abilities unlike anyone else, offers direction on finding those strengths, and encourages stepping out in faith in the God who made us, to become the person we're made to be. Interspersed with contemporary anecdotes and biblical examples, attractively designed, You Can Be, is typical of Lucado's readable style.
While this is not an indepth treatise on personality styles or career decisions, it is a good introductory work for recent or about-to-be high school graduates. Yes, it would be a "perfect gift for a graduate" as the cover notes. For those needing a bit more than anecdotes and an affirming pat on the back, I'd suggest professional career counseling. Still, a worthwhile read.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

2010-06-08T21:10:00.001-04:00

That may not be the perfect way to describe what's happening (or not) in our backyard, since I'm not quite sure which situation to describe as bad and which as ugly. The Good, The Disappointing, and The Mystery would be more accurate.

I'll start with The Disappointing and save The Good for last. Since I promised an update on the upside down tomato planting experiment, I'll start there. Let's just say it's mostly show and little go - or all foliage and no fruit. Oh, make that two small tomatoes which don't show much interest in ripening anytime soon. We've been fairly faithful with watering, not as much with fertilizing. Call it bad or ugly, but all-in-all it's pretty much a disappointment.
The Mystery has to do with some plantings we did about two months ago. We're still trying to adapt to a semi-tropical climate, so have decided it's best to stick with things that are native to the area. Fortunately, I'd done a freelance story on the oldest business in Seminole County, the Crystal Lake Nursery, which only sells plants that are native to central Florida. Among other things, we picked up several decorative peanut plants--a groundcover that produces yellow flowers. Bob weeded around them last weekend and we noticed they were thriving and spreading, as expected. On Tuesday I noticed 3 holes in the bed where the peanut plants had been. They had obviously been dug up and removed by someone. No sign of any animals. To our knowledge, the only people who have been in our backyard, besides us, are the lawn service folks. After playing a few rounds of phone tag with the lawn service supervisor, we connected, and though they claim none of their crew is responsible, they have agreed to replace them. Doesn't solve the mystery, but does fill the holes.

The Good: The hydrangea that we planted last summer, and did nothing to protect during the winter, has come back in full splendor--producing oodles of blue and pink flowers. I love hydrangeas! I love the fact that novices that we are, we've been able to add just the right amount of acid to the soil to get some blue flowers! It doesn't quite compensate for the disappointing tomato plant, or the 'lost' peanut plants, but it does make me smile when I step outside and a full-blooming hydrangea greets me.

I Am Hutterite

2010-05-27T17:01:00.003-04:00

Mary-Ann Kirkby tells the engaging story of her childhood in I Am Hutterite. The close-knit, reclusive, community in south central Manitoba provided a warm, loving place for a child to grow up, surrounded by family members, well fed and well educated. But as she learned in later years, the community was not as welcoming for outsiders, like her father. Unable to resolve the tension between themselves and the leaders of the colony, Mary-Ann's parents packed their family and their belongings and left the colony to make a life for themselves on the outside.
With humor and vivid detail, Kirkby offers a child's memories of her formative years, as well as the trauma of life on the outside. Her adult insight and perspective presents an honest, authentic account of both the benefits and disadvantages of life in a tightly- controlled community. In adulthood she remains conflicted about her identity - understanding that it is an indelible part of her which she cannot leave behind. But she also comes to appreciate the gifts of forgiveness and freedom which her parents gave her in their decision to weglaufen (run away).
I chose to review this book because having lived in the Midwest, I was aware of Hutterite colonies in the Dakotas. I was surprised to learn that the community I was most familiar with was actually the first such settlement in North America.
I highly recommend this book. It is a well written account of coming-of-age in one of the most unique communities to dot North America.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

The Heart Mender

2010-05-01T13:59:00.003-04:00

Andy Andrews has written a page-turning mystery, love-story, and thriller all in one in The Heart Mender: A Story of Second Chances. While chopping down a dead wax myrtle tree on his property, Andrews uncovers a tin containing old photographs and Nazi memorabilia. How they came to be buried on U.S. soil becomes the basis for this riveting tale. The Heart Mender is based on historical events--German submarines patrolling the Gulf Coast of North America during 1942-43. The narrative details the unlikely results when Helen Mason, a war widow, encounters Josef Landermann, a German U-boat officer, washed ashore near her sleepy Gulf town.
This truly was a book I could not put down. Not an avid fiction reader, I do enjoy historical fiction. And this was one of the most gripping stories I've read since my first John Grisham novel. I felt like I was sitting across the table from an expert story-teller. Andrews' warm style and vivid detail drew me in from the first paragraphs when he set the stage for the story to follow, describing his sadness and procrastination at removing the tree that sets the mystery in motion.
The Heart Mender is more than an engaging story. Andrews skillfully weaves his premise throughout the narrative--we all have something or someone we need to forgive.
I highly recommend this book.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Through Glasses Dimly

2010-04-17T21:10:00.001-04:00

Last fall my 90-year-old mother-in-law moved into independent living. The prospect of being housebound for another Midwest winter, and our urging, finally convinced her to make the move. She made the adjustment quite well, enjoying the delicious meals, the company of old friends and new acquaintances, and the convenient services--including a beauty shop and beautician on site.
A couple months ago she complained that after her last trip to the beauty shop she did not get the right glasses back. She assured us she had checked with the beautician, who insisted that the spectacles she had must be hers, because there were no others around, and no one else had complained. Yet, she insisted that she could not see as well as she had before that trip to the hairdresser.
Convinced her eyes were failing, she kept her annual appointment with her eye doctor, where she remarked that her eyes must certainly be failing, because she couldn't see well with these glasses anymore.
"Well, no wonder," the doctor responded. "These aren't your glasses!"
I haven't been wearing the right glasses either, lately. My search for a part-time job that would be compatible with my freelance writing and editing efforts, and meet my need for socialization, left me back at square one this week. Two promising leads evaporated. My hopes of the last two weeks were dashed. I found myself wondering why God would give me reasons for optimism, only to pull them back? Why isn't God answering this prayer?

My Wednesday morning Bible study on James is helping to refocus my thinking. James, speaking to first-century Christians who are facing actual persecution, tells them to "consider it pure joy," when they face trials, for trials and testing develop perseverance and faith, resulting in greater maturity.Yes, even at my age, I still need to mature in my faith. I need a perception adjustment. I need to keep my eyes trained on my heavenly Father who loves me, has a plan for my life, and promises wisdom when I ask in faith. My trial is not life-threatening, nor as devastating an economic situation as if I were the primary breadwinner. It is disappointing, discouraging, and sometimes demoralizing. But these are the kinds of trials God uses to re-attach my blinders and turn my focus on Him.

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God,
who gives generously to all without finding fault,
and it will be given to him. James 1:5

A Place for Everything

2010-04-02T17:55:00.004-04:00

and everything in its place. The finishing touch on our bedroom redecorating project, that began with painting last summer, is a wall jewelry cabinet. No more jewelry jumbled on my dresser. Every necklace, bracelet, and pair of earrings has an assigned place in this mother of all jewelry boxes. And I love it.
It's not that I have so much valuable jewelry. It's just that I really didn't have one place to store it all conveniently.
I spotted these wall cabinets on the internet and found one on E-bay that didn't charge for shipping. Unfortunately, the first shipment arrived with a broken mirror. Thankfully, the second one survived shipping intact.

Now, if I could accomplish the same thing in the office...

Bay Hill

2010-03-29T17:55:00.002-04:00

Another weekend. Another journey to an alternate universe. This time to the Arnold Palmer Invitational version of the PGA Tour. This trip was not as far as the trip to the races - either geographically (the Bay Hill Golf Course is about an hour away, near Universal) or mentally. I have actually played golf!
The "trip" was the difference between golf played at the professional level and my level - definitely duffer. I guess when you're playing for real money it makes a difference in how you approach the game.
A couple obvious comparisons between NHRA and PGA.
Volume - the PGA is at the extreme opposite end of the noise spectrum. No need for the ear protectors here.We spent most of our bleacher time at the first tee box, watching the leaders tee off. Each golf pair was assigned a pair of honorable observers, whose names I had to strain to hear, as announcers spoke without benefit of microphones or sound systems. Attendants are stationed liberally throughout the course - raising their arms and paddle with each golfers' stroke - alerting the onlookers to hush. Violators were on the receiving end of a threatening gaze. I had to wonder, if the talking persisted, would they actually have used their paddle? Spectators best keep their eyes open and their mouths shuts.
Pace - Speed is the goal at NHRA; accuracy in PGA. On the excitement-adrenalin scale, golf--1; racing--10.
Economic impact - Golf, being a bit more subtle sport, the economic impact was a little more difficult for me to see. Obviously, the real estate surrounding the course is pricey, despite losing value in the recession. Being the people-watcher that I am I took in more information about the economic impact by assessing the attire of the crowd. Definitely more upscale than NRHA. Plenty of Izod, L.L.Bean, and Ralph Lauren. Golf's reputation as a wealthy man's sport may be well-deserved. Certainly, serious golfers need to be prepared for a significant cash outlay for club memberships, green fees, and a decent set of clubs.
Our tickets were complementary so I don't know the impact of the gate. I understand that ticket sales were consideraby less than when Tiger Woods appears in the tournament. (Another matter. Enough ink has been spilled over him; I'll pass on that conversation.) According to the 2005 Golf Economy Report, the golf economy was valued at $76 billion, and generated a total of $195 billion in indirect and induced impacts, such as hospitality and tourism. Revenues from golf facilities actually outpaced such popular sports as baseball, basketball, football, and hockey. No wonder the industry is worried about Tiger taking an extended leave of absence.
Professional golf may not be the most exciting spectator sport, but it's hard to beat spending a 72-degree day on a beautifully manicured course, enjoying free food, and getting an up-close look at a pro's game.

Kaleidoscope

2010-03-24T21:02:00.003-04:00

Kaleidoscope - Seeing God's Wit and Wisdom in a Whole New Light
by Patsy Clairmont

Kaleidoscope is a collection of writings on verses from Proverbs written by Patsy Clairmont, who many women know from Women of Faith conferences. With her characteristic wit and side-splitting humor, Clairmont tackles the subjects you would expect a book on Proverbs to cover: truth, wisdom, diligence, fear, and, of course, the Proverbs 31 woman.
Clairmont likens Proverbs to a “four-mirrored kaleidoscope that gives a parade of images.” Within the tumbling, seemingly unorganized array of proverbs, she finds beauty, truth, and practical insights for daily living. With a combination of often humorous anecdotes and personal reflection, Clairmont sheds new light on familiar proverbs. Reading Patsy Clairmont is almost like listening to her at Women of Faith because Patsy writes just like she speaks - with levity and grace. While Clairmont keeps it light, she is always authentic. Never more so than when she shares her own struggles with debilitating fear and her faltering journey to healing and wholeness.
Kaleidoscope reads like a conversation with a good friend.Kaleidoscope covers 32 proverbs in an easy-to-read, devotional format, perfect for a personal quiet time, small-group study, or when you’re asked to give a devotional. I give Kaleidoscope two thumbs up.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

A Day at the Races

2010-03-15T19:30:00.003-04:00

This weekend I entered an alternate universe. Or at least, one previously completely unknown to me - the NHRA. My brother introduced me to the world of drag racing at the opening event of the National Hot Rod Association's racing season, the Gatornationals at Gainesville. My previous racing experience was limited to Figure 8 racing, in which junkyard cars are resuscitated enough to navigate a figure 8 track without a race-ending collision. I’m certainly no expert, or enthusiastic race fan after one afternoon at the races, but I do offer a few observations – because I know Duey is expecting it.

Popularity – With almost no knowledge of drag racing, my first surprise was the level of interest in the sport. (I use sport in the broad sense of recreation or diversion.) What would normally be a 2 ½ - hour trip from Orlando to Gainesville actually took closer to 4 hours, with the last 10-12 miles taking 1 ½ hours. Clearly, the Gainesville grounds are not laid out to accommodate the number of fans this event attracts. The parking area - acres and acres - was packed with vehicles, my first clue that this sport has a sizeable following. At an event where speed rules, I found it rather ironic that the fastest way for us to get from our parking spot in the farthest reaches of the parking area to the stands was via rickshaw. Enterprising young men pedaled fans across rain-soaked roads to within walking distance of the stands. Surely, their tips must cover next semester’s tuition, or at least, the price of their books.

Economic impact – The rickshaw ride through the parking lot provided my first glimpse into the economic impact of drag racing and all it entails. Row after row of high-priced RVs belonging to fans and support teams sent cash register bells ringing in my mind. And we hadn’t even made it to the pits with the high-priced rigs and the race cars. I don’t have a clue what it must cost to actually put a car on the track, what with the equipment and personnel, but clearly, it’s not chump change. It’s hard to find evidence of a recession here. Putting it in the larger perspective of entertainment dollars and professional athletes' multi-million dollar contracts, I guess it falls below the median. Yet, for someone who keeps a fairly frugal entertainment budget, the economic impact was startling.

Speed - Drag racing is all about speed – whether it’s a top fuel, funny car, pro stock car or motorcycle, the goal is to traverse the quarter-mile track faster than your competitor. Oh, I do understand, now, that there is considerable strategy involved, as well as driving skill and plenty of horses under the hood. And I appreciate the fact that the impetus that created the NHRA was to move drag racing off the streets and into safer venues. Moving dragsters, racing at 100 mph, off the streets and onto a track designed for such speeds was definitely a good thing. I’m just having a hard time getting my mind around the concept of the competitive drive required to get behind the wheel of a vehicle with the potential to do 325 mph. I guess it appeals to the same drive/instinct as an athlete – and that would explain why I have a difficult time even getting to the fitness center regularly – I simply don’t have enough competitive blood in me to “get in this race.” I’d like to suggest it’s a guy thing, but NHRA boasts a number of female drivers, some who are doing quite well.

Though I couldn’t see myself getting behind the wheel, I must admit to at least being wowed by the speed on the track, the drivers’ skill, and the supportive atmosphere in the crowd. If Duey’s willing to keep answering racing 101 questions, I’d consider another trip to the track.

As Seen on TV

2010-02-20T18:10:00.003-05:00

One of the challenges of Florida living that we are still trying to master is what and when to plant a few of our favorite vegetables. We're not interested in a big vegetable garden--just a few tomatoes, maybe some peppers. Last year we tried planting a tomato in a pot in the fall. It grew like gangbusters for about six weeks, but produced very small fruit that didn't ripen. Apparently we planted too late and the nights were too cold for the tomatoes to mature.
Not ones to give up quickly, we're trying again. This time we're using the Topsy Turvy Tomato planter in which the plant grows upside down. The theory is that the planter works like a greenhouse as the sun warms the roots, the water and nutrients flow from the root to the fruit, supposedly producing tons of delicious fruit without backbreaking labor. We're all about juicy, ripe tomatoes with little effort! I know--it sounds too good to be true. But we found the planter in a bargain bin somewhere, so aside from the $5.98 plant purchased at Lowes today, have little invested. Stay tuned for the results.

Living Life in the Zone

2010-02-18T15:47:00.003-05:00

Recently I signed up with Thomas Nelson Publishers to be a Book Sneezer. It's a program in which they give away books to bloggers who will post a review on their blog and another commercial site. I signed on thinking it a great way to make sure I blog somewhat regularly, while also staying up with the latest releases. For my first review I chose Living Life in the Zone: A 40-Day Spiritual Game Plan for Men.
I’m not a guy, not a jock. So why would I choose to review Living Life in the Zone for my first Book Sneeze review? I am interested in spiritual formation. And I was curious to see if what Rote and Pettigrew offer as a 40-day spiritual game plan for men would have any application to women? Is it necessary or proper to address men’s and women’s spiritual formation differently?
Many behavioral scientists believe it takes at least 21 days to establish a habit. Rote and Pettigrew note that throughout scripture God uses forty days as a significant period of time in which to accomplish his purposes—Moses’ mountaintop experience with God; Elijah’s journey to Mount Horeb, and Jesus’ fasting and temptation in the desert to name a few. The authors assert that their forty day game plan holds similar life-changing potential.
Living Life in the Zone covers the basic ‘zones’ of a typical man’s life: relationships with spouse, children, friends, at work, and with God. Within each area the authors cover the typical trouble spots: keeping the romance alive in marriage, carrying your faith into the work place, being an engaged parent, nurturing friendships that keep you on the right path. Each day’s reading is divided into seven categories designed to help the reader live life in the zone: a thought of the day, Coach’s Corner (relating God’s Word to real life), Game Plan (what the Bible says about the day’s topic), Playmakers (real-life examples of sports figures and business men living out or struggling to live out their faith), Time Out (questions for personal reflection), an assignment or action for the day, and praises or concerns to bring to God.
Personally, I enjoyed the personal stories most. Though I happen believe that we’re living in a sports-addicted culture and as a society our priorities are mixed up, I did find many of the personal stories of athletes and other popular figures attempting to live out their faith in a predominantly self-centered, man-honoring arena, inspiring and encouraging. I suspect these stories alone might be enough to draw a good number of men to this book. Anyone who enjoys a good story, however, and desires to live life to the fullest would benefit from studying and applying the principles in this book.

Weathering Winter

2010-02-01T15:23:00.002-05:00

The recent cold snap in Central Florida was hard on much of the vegetation. Very little is left of our backyard landscaping which we put in a little more than a year ago. It's our own fault. We did not pay particularly close attention to plants that are native to the area when we chose plants, nor did we cover anything when the weather turned cold. Call it fatalism or laziness. My theory is that I cannot control the weather and if the One who does decides to send a cold snap, who am I to argue with Him?
The one plant, however, that I wish would die, refuses to. I don't know what it is. It produces a white, spidery flower on a long stem. It's in the front yard, which is under the jurisdiction of the homeowners association. They must approve any significant changes we make to the front of the house. We've not yet fully developed our plans for re-landscaping the front yard, partly because having to go through the process of having it approved by the HOA just seems like too much of a hassle. Granted, it's not the ugliest plant I've ever seen. I would just rather have something else in the front yard. But if the "spider" plant would succumb to the freezing temperatures, I'm assuming it would be easier to get such a change of plant approved.
Two weeks ago I thought it had been done in by this year's cold snap as all its broad, green leaves had turned a brittle brown. But last week new green shoots appeared, followed soon after by a flower. My hardy plant reminds me of Paul's observations about sin in our lives: "The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge." (Romans 7:21-23; The Message)

Chili Champ

2010-01-31T20:31:00.006-05:00

To my complete surprise, my chili was selected as the winning entry in our church's Chili Cook-off and Trivia Challenge this weekend. For those who asked, here's the recipe, with appreciation to former Dordt co-worker, Norlan De Groot, from whom I got the recipe.

Calico Chili
1# ground beef
1 medium onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 green pepper, choppped
1 cup diced zucchini (optional)
1 T chili powder
1 T dried parsley flakes
1/4 tsp each dried oregano, thyme, and rosemary
salt & pepper to taste
1 (30 oz.) can kidney beans, drained
1 (15-16 oz) can whole kernel corn, drained
1 (28 oz) can diced tomatoes with liquid
1 c. cooked rice
1 c. water
2 T vinegar
1 T Worcestershire sauce

In a large kettle or Dutch oven, brown ground beef. Drain. Add onion, garlic, celery and green pepper. Also add zucchini, if desired. Cook until onion is transparent. Add spices. Stir in remaining ingredients; simmer, stirring occasionally until thickened and vegetables are heated through--about 20 minutes. Yield: 8-10 servings.

OK - that's the official recipe. Good cooks add their own "personal" touches. Those shall remain my secret. :-)

In Praise of the Little Things

2010-01-19T14:18:00.000-05:00

It's common advice, if not a well-worn cliche, to value the little things in life. Advice that I've shrugged off for a good deal of my life--too busy with "important" things like raising kids and a full-time job to take much note or time to appreciate little blessings. That's beginning to change. The slower pace of empty nesting and un-/under-employment have a way of changing your perspective. I definitely have more time than money these days so I'm on the lookout for anything that delights without dipping into the wallet.
Two such events occured in the past week.
Out of the blue I got a Facebook message from a woman who members of my extended family had taken in and under their wing when her family life was less than stable. She had located me on a niece's FB page and wanted to let me know how much the party we had thrown for her on her 16th birthday had meant to her. She had recently had a Sweet Sixteen party for her daughter and was reminded of her own party many years ago. For the life of me I could not remember throwing a party for her! After some mental prodding I remembered that she had been part of our family's annual summer gathering and included in the celebration of that summer's birthdays. It hardly struck me as something a 16-year-old would consider a memorable party. But to her that simple act of inclusion was significant. Significant to me was the fact that she would take the time now - 20 years later - to tell me - one who was not all that close to her - how much it meant to her. It reminded me that the little things I do for someone may not mean much to me, but they may mean everything - or at least great deal - to the recipient of my kind gesture or warm smile.
Yesterday I was on the receiving end of just such a kindness. I am hoping to established myself as a freelance writer-editer,but as this period of un-/under-employment continues I find my confidence in myself waning. So yesterday's e-mail affirming the letters I'd drafted for an author I greatly admire and respect, was just the encouragement I needed to keep on keeping on this career track. "Great job, good choices," were small but oh-so-satisfying bits of praise from a successful author to an aspiring one.
They prompt me to keep looking for - and offering up "the little things." Now that I know they are much bigger than they seem.

Happy Birthday, Daughter

2010-01-05T18:00:00.000-05:00

Twenty-three years ago after two weeks of Braxton Hicks contractions and seven hours of induced labor I gave birth to our third child, our only daughter, Allison. After grieving and doctoring through several years of secondary infertility earlier, having an 'unplanned' child and a daughter besides was a blessed delight, to be sure.
Delight turned to frustration and conflict in a few short years as Alli began to assert her independence--regarding the typical things--food--'Yes, I will have ketchup on my brownie'; clothes--'Yes, I will wear my swimming suit in January in Iowa'; and hair - 'Mother, why can't you do French braids!?' In retrospect those were minor skirmishes compared to the head-butting we engaged in through middle school and into high school. Aside from the typical adolescent self-centeredness, Alli's choice of friends was a point of much contention between us. We grudgingly allowed her to spend more time with one particularly toxic girl than we wanted, fearful that if we prohibited the relationship completely it would be that much more attractive and she would become even more defiant. Whenever possible we encouraged them to be at our home, so we would know where they were and have some idea of what they were up to.
To our relief, but to her great disappointment and pain, the 'friend's' true colors were finally uncovered only a few weeks into their freshman year of highschool. Cruelly betrayed by one she had considered to be a friend, Alli found herself sadly alone. A normally challenging transition time was even more so as she had to re-build friendships and figure out who she was without her friend's influence.

By the grace of God and lots of prayer and encouragement Alli emerged from highschool confident enough to venture off to a state university. Though she knew only a handful of students, and going to UNI meant leaving behind a 'serious' boyfriend, she persisted in her decision. One semester was enough to gain a new appreciation for the community she'd grown up in and transfer to the local college where most of her friends, including that increasingly serious boyfriend, were.

A year and a half ago that young man became her husband, our son-in-law; six months ago they graduated from college together and entered the working world. Our baby girl is a young woman--beautiful, competent, loving. It's been an exhausting, exhilirating, sometimes entertaining, always educational journey. I am immensely grateful for and proud of our daughter. Happy Birthday, Alli!

Year End Reflections

2009-12-30T16:05:00.000-05:00

The passage of one year--and in this case a decade--is a natural time to reflect on the past year and make plans, perhaps even resolutions for the new year. I'm taking a page from Michael Hyatt's end of year reflections blog. Michael Hyatt is the CEO of Thomas Nelson Publishing and one of my favorite bloggers.

He suggests asking and answering the following questions as we put the passing year into perspective - and apply the lessons learned in 2009 to 2010.

1. If the last year were a movie of your life, what would the genre be? Drama, romance, adventure, comendy, tragedy, or a combination?

I would describe my past year as a combination of adventure and tragedy. Tragedy may be a little harsh to describe job loss, especially since mine is a second income. Drama may be a better genre to describe the feelings and experiences that accompany job loss and the roller coaster of emotions that are part of the job search.

2. What were the two or three major themes that kept recurring?

uncertainty and loss
small, but certain evidences of God's care and provision despite uncertainty and loss
blessing of caring family and friends

3. What did you accomplish this past year that you are the most proud of?

launching my freelance business
stepping out of my comfort zone to network and volunteer for new activities

4. What do you feel you should have been acknowledged for but weren't?

what I could have contributed to my former employer as a freelancer/independent contractor

5. What diappointments or regrets did you experience this past year?

loss of two important communities--co-workers and church family
disappointment and regret that there have been no attempts at reconciliation with our former church family

6. What was missing from last year as you look back?

enjoying each day for what it had to offer. I was more often too worried about finding another job.
trusting God's promise that he has a purpose and plan for my life. I'm just impatient to see it.

7. What were the major life-lessons you learned this past year?

greater discernment regarding various leadership styles and which styles resonate with me and are helpful to my growth
while conflict is never in God's design, there are times that resolution does not happen, yet God accomplishes his purposes regardless. That was probably the most helpful and healing insight I took from Unpacking Forgiveness (Chris Braun), one of the books I read following our fallout with a church in which we had invested the last 2 1/2 years of our life. We've moved on and are being blessed in our current church home--and trust that God continues to bless our previous church.
life is a journey--if I'm too comfortable in one spot I'm likely not growing spiritually. God makes himself known in the discomforts and difficult places of life.

I especially appreciate Hyatt's advice following this exercise. "Acknowledge the past and complete it. It's over. There's nothing you can do to change it. Close that chapter and turn to the next one." Good advice--which I am going to try to follow.
How about you? What year-end advice do you have?

Violated

2009-12-12T11:31:00.000-05:00

Shock. Anger. Fear. Those are the emotions I felt this week when I discovered that someone was making unauthorized purchases on my bank account.

My first reaction was to wrack my brain for when or why I would have made the purchase. Given my current under-employment situation any purchase over $100 is cause for pause so I knew I had not made an on-line purchase for $400+ to some merchant I've never heard of. In quick succession I wondered, "Is this a bank error? If not, how did someone get my account information? What online transaction have I made lately that could have opened me up to this violation?"

After the shock, I was surprised at the strength of my anger and fear. Rape victims often speak of being violated. That was how I felt - my private, supposedly secure financial transactions were not; my 'trust' in my financial institution was betrayed. Despite the firewalls they erected and the safety precautions I used, someone had invaded my privacy. The line between anger and fear was blurry. How would I cover this month's expenses? What if the offender continues hitting my account? How do I stop this?

Thankfully, a second call to my bank's customer service department was more helpful in correcting the situation. Restrictions were placed on the card immediately, the process of replacing my debit card was begun, and best of all, the funds were restored - within 24 hours like they said.

In the aftermath I've been thinking about what my reaction says about my thoughts and feelings about money. We recently heard a stewardship sermon, reminding us, once again, that what we have is all God's. We are simply stewards of his good gifts. It's just another case where (for me) it's much easier to talk the talk than walk the talk. This was a pretty good reminder that I'm clinging more tightly to my bank account, than the One who graciously provides.

Renaissance Festival

2009-11-09T12:21:00.000-05:00

Saturday we went to the Renaissance Festival in Tavares. We had often talked about going to the Renaissance Faire in Shakopee, Minnestoa when we lived in the Midwest, but never made it. It was easier to get to one an hour away as opposed to one three-four hours away.

It was a beautiful fall day - perfect for wandering through an outdoor festival. Overall, I'd say it was everything we expected it to be. We saw a couple of shows, including a jousting match, and listened to a female madrigal group; enjoyed the costumes and some of the ribald humor.

We'd always heard that you had to get one of the turkey drumsticks sold in the food court at these fairs. So we stood in line for 30 minutes for ours - all the while drooling over the 'blooming potatoes' that we saw others carrying off - a heaping plate of deep fat fried potatoes, garnished with your choice of sour cream, cheese, or catsup. "A heart attack waiting to happen" we reminded each other and held onto our spot in the turkey drumstick line. When we finally got to the head of the line, the drumsticks had run out! The vendor had some in the steamer, but it would be another 15-20 minutes before they were reaady. At this point I seriously considered giving in to the 'blooming potato' urge, but that would have been another 30-minute wait!

Bob graciously agreed to wait for the drumsticks while I went to get a seat at the next show we wanted to see. Some time later he arrived with two turkey legs in hand, blood still oozing from them.

"These don't look done," I said.

"I know," he said, "but the vendor said they are."

We each took a bite and agreed that they most definitely were not done. Returning to the vendor, following the show, we showed the vendor the undercooked drumsticks. He offered our money back, but by this point we'd committed enough time to the effort, that we didn't want to miss out on this Renaissance novelty of chomping into a huge drumstick--juices dripping down our arms. We registered our complaint and then decided to take them home to finish cooking them.

Sunday afternoon we put them on our grill rotisserie for another hour - and ate part of them for supper. We couldn't really bring ourselves to hold them in our hands and eat them as we would have at the faire. It just didn't seem right to be sitting at our kitchen table and eating like a rather uncivilized 14th century commoner. Besides that, turkey drumsitcks contain a lot of tendons and small sword-like bones that make for treacherous eating.

The remaining portion of the drumsticks is now being simmered for Turkey and Wild Rice Soup. Hopefully this third attempt will be more to our liking. Next time I head to the Renaissance Faire I'm going with the 'blooming potato.' The turkey drumstick is highly overrated.

Which drumstick would you eat?

A Pampered Chef

2009-10-18T19:20:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I went to a Pampered Chef party. Growing up my dad never wanted my mom to invite people over and then have them feel obligated to buy something. That may be behind my own reluctance to host such a party. Though I'm less reluctant to attend. In this case, I really wanted to see the hostess since it was a friend I hadn't seen in some time. And I do like their products, even if they are a little pricey.

I usually have a dollar limit in my head going in to these things. Like most consumer events, you end up wanting more than you need. In my case I really did want to replace a spatula or two. I could have purchased the two separately - or in a package, that along with the two spatulas included several other kitchen utensils - for a few dollars more. But I didn't need all the things in the package. In fact several items were duplicates of Pampered Chef products I already have. Other items were tools I use only two-three times a year - like a masher.On those special occasions when I mash potatoes, I really like using the old potato masher I inherited from my grandmother's kitchen 30+ years ago.

Ergonomically incorrect and likely environmentally hazardous with its (presumed lead) painted wooden handle, Grandma's potato masher brings back memories of family Thanksgivings and Sunday dinners. I imagine her turning her own garden-fresh tubers into a fluffy mound of mashed potatoes for a threshing crew. I recall the family dinners we hosted when my aunt (Grandma's daughter) stepped in and did the last-minute potato mashing duty. I'm not ready to give up this piece of history for an updated version - no matter how slick, quick and easy it turns boiled potatoes into mush. Grandma's simple masher still gets the job done - and keeps some history and memories alive. And besides, by now all the paint has flaked off the handle, leaving only a hint of the green it once was. Any adverse effects from lead paint have already occurred and are likely so minimal as to be neglible.

I ended up getting a pizza cutter and some measuring spoons. Mine are old, but they don't have the history of my potato masher. They can be replaced.

Something There is That Doesn't Love a Wall - or Gate

2009-10-04T20:58:00.000-04:00

We live in a gated community. I used to think that was some sign of wealth. Given the latest developments with our community gate, I think it's simply evidence of a false sense of security.

The setup here is similar to many planned communities. Access is limited to residents of the development via an assigned code or a validation sticker on your vehicles. Problems develop when non-residents try to pass through the gates without proper access information. The original gates were slow-moving ironworks, making it easy for non-residents to tailgate another vehicle through the gates. However, occasionally, gate and vehicle collided, putting the gate out of commission until repairs were made.

In their wisdom and desire for security, the Homeowners Association board decided to replace the gates. The new entrance consists of a double set of gates - one for entering, one for exit - and a motion arm which raises and lowers for each vehicle. All designed, supposedly, to keep intruders out and secure access to residents only.

The new system has been operational for several months now. Yet, not a week goes by that one or the other motion arms is permanently raised or missing altogether for at least a portion of a day or longer. Apparently the fail-safe system isn't so fail-safe after all.

Robert Frost had it right - "something there is that doesn't love a wall" - or a barrier of any sort. It's human nature to resist anyone or anything placing restrictions on us. People who want to get in are going to find a way to get in despite all the security measures we might take. I've never believed that either gate was really going to protect us against intruders. We would need far more security measures than an access-coded gate and a motion arm to protect against those who intend harm or damage.

It's possible the problems we're seeing are mechanical. But we've witnessed enough drivers still attempting to tailgate, narrowly avoiding the motion arm falling on their vehicle, to believe the problems are more human than nechanical. Instinctively, we "want it down." It's human nature. So with Frost, I grudgingly admit that perhaps, good gates make good neighbors.

The Work of Our Hands - and Minds

2009-09-07T09:23:00.000-04:00

I approach Labor Day 2009 with a set of feelings I've not experienced before.

For the first time in my professional life, I am not working outside of the home, though I would like to be. Although my job search began in earnest only about six weeks ago, I am already familiar with the rejection, lack of confidence, disappointment and discouragement that seem to be par for the course for the unemployed. I find some consolation in knowing that I am not alone. In fact, there are currently some 15 million unemployed Americans, and that statistic only includes those who qualify for and are applying for unemployment benefits. Since my former employer was a non-profit that was not required to pay into the system, I do not qualify for benefits. While it's hard to track those numbers, it's no stretch to assume that the actual unemployment figure would be much higher if all of us, along with the many who have become so discouraged from months of looking, or have exhausted their unemployment benefits were included. If you are among the gainfully employed this Labor Day, consider yourself blessed.

A day to celebrate the labor movement and the dignity of work was initiated in the late 1800s, at the height of the organized labor movement. Perhaps because of that origin I've always considered the day to be a tribute more to manual laborers than 'knowledge workers.'

Matthew Crawford, an intellectual by any standards, with a Ph.D. in political philosophy from the University of Chicago and a research fellow at the University of Virginia, has written a book lamenting our culture's devaluing and consequent neglect of training for manual labor. In Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work, Crawford argues that the elimination of shop classses in high schools has lead to a culture that encourages mindless mental tasks, while belittling the value of manual labor. Crawford speaks from his own experience as a motorcycle repairman, when he makes the case for working with ones hands. He values not only the satisfaction of producing something useful with his hands, but also the mental challenge and autonomy of identyfing a problem and then being able to solve it with his own hands. That sense of satisfaction, he maintains, is unsurpassed.

We will spend our Labor Day waiting for one of those persons who is (hopefully) adept both at identifying and repairing a problem. Inexplicably (at least to our untrained eyes and minds) the electrical system on the pool quit working last week. As our own holiday plans fall by the wayside in anticipation of a service call sometime between the hours of noon and 5pm, we are grateful for a service man who will make a call on a holiday; hopeful that he will be able to diagnose the problem quickly and repair it easily (read: not requiring a second mortage); and celebrate those who find significance in the work of their hands and minds.

Grape Stomp

2009-09-01T13:57:00.000-04:00

Recently we made a day trip to the Sebring-Lake Placid area for the Grape Stomping Festival at Henscratch Farms Vineyard & Winery. Non-Floridians may be surprisd to learn that this southern state is actually home to about a dozen and a half wineries. Most are growing grapes that have been bred for the hot and humid conditions of Florida--muscadine and its its white/green variation--scuppernong.

Henscratch is a small (10 acres) family operation. In addtion to the vineyard and winery, they produce blueberries and hydroponic strawberries. A flock of free-range chickdens roams the farm--their eggs available at the country store. They are also part of a pest management program underway with Florida A&M. The theory is that the chidkens eat the bugs which would be harmful to the grapevines and reduce the need for pesticides.

But the real attraction for us, other than to see a bit more of 'old Florida, was the grape stomp! For the price of admission we got to kick off our shoes, climb in a tank loaded with scuppernongs (nope, not the purple grapes) and stomp for 30 seconds. There was a certain childish delight in crushing those squishy grapes underfoot. Unfortunately, the scuppernongs have sizeable seeds, which makes it a bit like stomping on pebbles. Oh well, it was only 30 seconds, long enough for a photo op. And now we can cross grape-stomping off our bucket list.

Taking the Plunge

2009-08-30T19:39:00.000-04:00

OK. They say this blogging is so easy anyone can do it. I assume that means even a 50-something, empty-nester, gramma-wanna-be who is moderately tech-savvy (though at least two of my children might dispute that). I am an uprooted Midwesterner trying to survive in the South. Granted, Central Florida is not the Deep South, but the cultural differences are enough to leave me scratching my head at times.

I am currently, as I am insisting on putting it, 'between jobs.' It's a situation somewhat of my own choosing, meaning I declined the position that was offered to me when the 're-alignment of resources' movement hit my last place of employment. I decided at my stage of life, I really did not want to take a position that didn't seem to require a lot of skiill - and that not exactly in my skill or gift set. So for now I am unemployed - er - between jobs. I'm learning that it's very important to keep a positive attitude in this situation.

Writing is something that's been in the back of my mind for some time and I've decided that if I'm going to make something of that interest, now is as good a time - probably better - than any. Problem is writing has always been an interest, not necessarily the path I pursued in college. Blame it on poor or non-existent advising or my own lack of awareness. While I believe I have a gift for communication, I don't have the credentials - an English/Journalism degree. Nevertheless, I figure now is the time to get some of my random thoughts in print if for no other reason than to give me a reason to get up every day and bring some discipline to what could become a very undisciplined, unmotivated existence--between jobs.

I expect I'll be writing on my current situation as well as my circumstances as a transplanted Midwesterner living in Florida. There's also my experience and role as wife and mother, which may provide fodder for blog posts. Sorry kids, I'm unfettered. This is my revenge!

Anyway, I think my biggest motivation for blogging is an attempt to expand my 'community', to connect with others who may share my experiences and interests, and to expand this conversation I keep having with myself.