Quiche-capades

Amy wrote on her blog today about quiche-capades. Now some more of the story. Amy called me to find out why the quiche she made didn't set up. Quiche from the recipe book I made for Christmas for my family. Heart pounding because whatever I did or didn't do messed up her dinner (with expensive cream in it and a hungry family on the waiting end), I checked the original recipe and (horrors) had to tell her it was because the recipe in her book was SO wrong. I couldn't help it, I started to cry. (Change-of-life, and that isn't pertinent here.) I talked to Dan and apologized that his dinner was ruin't and swimming in the pie crust. Picture on Amy's post. "S'okay, mom," said Dan, excited to go to Arby's, and I said goodbye and blew my nose and we hung up.

The phone rang. (Erin) "Hi mom, how are you?"

(Nat) "I've been crying a little bit; Amy called and said one of the recipes she tried from the recipe book I gave you doesn't work . . . I was really sad earlier but I'm better . . . "

(Erin) "Oh . . . well . . . I wanted to tell you I tried your quiche recipe tonight . . . something's wrong with it . . . "

(Nat, crying again) "ERIN! You're kidding. That's what Amy was calling about." (Sort of sobbing.) "She tried it and there's like double the milk and cream and . . . what . . . ?"

(Erin) "JK! Dan told me to call and tell you I cooked it too! (Laughing hysterically.) He told me what happened."

(Nat, wailing) "Oh my gosh you are . . . " (I can't publish my next sentiments on this public blog.)

If I hadn't been so ME, darn earnest, mid-life-crisis-ish, perfectionist, a wear-the-monkey-on-my-back mother, (btw, I finished with that business years ago, right?), I would have been in that moment rotfL; instead I face-planted near the closet in the sewing room (after I hung up on Erin), bawling. When Erin called back laughing (did you hang up on me?), I said, "YES, and my nose is running! You're MEAN." Erin nearly strangled laughing.

To all of you with the recipe book, the potato salad, Mom's potato salad, like I mentioned in an e-mail to you a month ago, needs only 1/2 cup Kraft Sandwich spread, not 2, and the ill-fated Broccoli-Ham Quiche needs only 1/2 cup milk and 1/2 cup cream, oh, and 1/2 tsp. dry mustard, not (sigh) 2 each. Like Amy said in her post, the computer converted my 1/2's to 2's - who knows what we'll discover next.

If you're an innocent bystander and are currently praying for patience, kindness, tolerance and love, you'll get, I promise: children.

Rainy day in Georgia

Raining today. This morning the Internet tech came and worked under a waterfall to get us connected again - hello online! Turns out the phone/DSL wire got clipped Saturday when Kent planted shrubs. Shovel tip, snip; the phones held over the weekend because the cut was against dirt, though the DSL died an ignominious death. When it rained last night and it got wet underground, the wire shorted and this morning we had no phones; 'course, no DSL still.

It's okay. I read the Old Testament and did plenty this weekend. Hosea, the Abrahamic covenant and covenant marriage I studied. Walked long miles. Helped Kent plant. Worked on a new layout of Jenny with Joseph and Andrew at the pumpkin farm last October.

Finished reading Left to Tell. You've got to read this book. I was struck in every nerve by Imaculee Ilibagiza's story; I've been in a world of my own a few days thinking about it.

No e-mail or blogging; pretty, pretty days; an unbelievable story of faith; the scriptures with sacred metaphors and plain doctrine. I cried Sunday morning reading scriptures, Revelation 21 and 22. Kent and me sitting on the couch taking turns reading out loud - the promises to John the Beloved at the end of his visions of the Savior and the last days are so, SO wonderful that, having taken in the terror and redemption of "Left to Tell," the horrible chapters of Revelation dealing with the beast, the dragon, the devil (and besides, armored locusts), and the heartbreak and wrath of Jehovah in Hosea toward covenant breakers, adulterers and idolators . . . ah. . . having taken in all this I wept at the description of the holy city coming down from God out of heaven, "prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain." At the image of the tree of life near a pure river of water coming from God's throne, clear as crystal; "And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." I cried so literally for those who cannot come, or won't - the fearful and unbelieving and abominable, murderers and whoremongers, sorcerers, idolaters and liars (the whole cast of "Left to Tell" and Hosea and the Book of Revelation) - who have their own waters, a lake of burning. Kent finished reading and I leaned on his shoulder and tears leaked right out of my eyes onto his shirt.

I love these lyrics, arranged by Mack Wilberg:

My Shepherd will supply my need; Jehovah is his Name;
In pastures fresh he makes me feed beside the living stream.
He brings my wand'ring spirit back when I forsake his ways,
And leads me for his mercy's sake in paths of truth and grace.

When I walk through the shades of death, thy presence is my stay;
One word of thy supporting breath drives all my fears away.
Thy hand, in sight of all my foes doth still my table spread;
My cup with blessings overflows; thine oil annoints my head.

The sure provisions of my God attend me all my days;
O may thy house be mine abode and all my work be praise!
There would I find a settled rest while others go and come,
No more a stranger, nor a guest; but like a child at home.

No more a stranger, nor a guest-
But like a child at home.

Clearing

March can be cooler and bring us some wetter days.
April’s no fool; her appearance brings better days.
Clearing up fast and warming at last,
May days are heaven, and Georgia's red-letter days!



Doldrums, be gone!
No more dawdling and doddering.
Storm clouds move on.
Done with puddling and sputtering!
-----

Morning and twilight
With sun in the trees,
Shade and shadow
That shift with the breezes,
Raindrops that scatter
And dance as they please –

These lift our glances, like flowers at watering.
Natalie, May 5, 2007


-----

Aunt Laura gave me a book called Life Lessons by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. A few lines under Authenticity read: "We do have to work through the darker parts of our personalities. Black and white are apparent; it's those gray parts that we often hide and deny: the "nice" guy, the isolator, the victim, and the martyr. These are the gray parts of our shadow self. We can't work on the deep negativity if we can't admit that we have negative sides. If we acknowledge all our feelings, we can become our whole selves."



I stood at the mirror this morning with light in the window and caught this. I'm startled; lots of things in this are symbolic, including that I tolerate half-truths in myself.

"When we face the worst that can happen in any situation, we grow. When circumstances are at their worst, we can find our best. When we find the true meaning of these lessons, we also find happy, meaningful lives. Not perfect, but authentic. We can live life profoundly."

I look at the pictures above - they come from right outside my door - and see that what makes them beautiful, or better, what gives them depth, is the contrast of light with shadow. I'm taken with it, dragged to light and shadow with my camera and poetry and looking in the mirror. It's stunning, isn't it.

Sis's blog

Sarah's got a blog! Here's the link. http://beachesandbooks.blogspot.com/ Go, go!

Gotta go, Seminary's in a minute! Meshach, Shadrach and Abed-nego are about to go into the furnace and Daniel to the lion's den. Because they love the Lord and not the world. Be good. I love you.

So I said I wouldn't post today, but . . .

. . . when Anna McEwen got to seminary she presented me with a silver tiara with the words Birthday Girl in hot pink glitter on it, and she said I had to wear it! I did - everybody was happy at that even though I made them promise they would remember the lesson and not, well, the birthday girl. "We will," they said! Snicker snicker. (I checked in the mirror halfway through class and I looked pretty cute!)

After the lesson Brandi Shipp handed me a birthday card and a large-ish Hershey's chocolate bar with almonds. Taped to the outside of the birthday card was another card, an O'Charley's (restaurant) gift card she and Saleah Starks went in on - Saleah picked out my birthday card in fact, and happily announced how she had to hide it behind her back when one of her friends saw her in the Helen Steiner Rice card section. Old people cards, we agreed. I handed chunks of chocolate and almonds all around and they said read the card! They thought I would cry and they wanted to see it. I did, and they did.

A verse by Helen Stiener Rice "The years go by, and as they do," ( insert by Natalie: You re-a-lize you're fifty-two.) No, really, "They only pause to smile on you." Helen's poem here is full and lovely and I'm leaving it out. I did get a tear in my eye when I read: "You have a way of remembering the special little things that matter most, of bringing out the best in others, of really listening and understanding and letting people know you care how they feel. Have a wonderful Birthday!"

There were hugs all around and everyone trooped out the door happy (except Titus Carter who didn't know about my birthday before class and frowned a little when he found out and has promised to bring me something Monday). I should say here everyone left happy mainly because it's Friday. There are no pictures of me in my tiara for the reason noted at the end of yesterday's post.

Regina, are you reading this? I won't post again til after the weekend, so in advance of the 18th, thanks AGAIN for the afghan you crocheted for me!

Regina loves me, and I'm so happy for our precious friendship. She crocheted me an entire afghan probably since Christmas, and trotted it across the street to me one day last week in a gift bag the size of Minnesota, where Erin currently lives and where a long time ago Regina and her family were too. (Closer to St. Paul, Bear, not by St. Louis Park. Is it warm there yet?) Well, this afternoon I'm working through a hazy headache. Don't need that, we're going to the temple to work this weekend. I need a nap. Or maybe I'm reacting to walking lots of miles again. Did it yesterday and today, an hour, under four miles. (What? The old girl pushed herself? Yeah, I usually walk to songs from the 70's on my mp3 player, don't laugh, and it murders me, makes me work. What were we thinking in the 70s? Like Cher, Your Kiss is on my List; hm, I'm embarrassed. I'll be more embarrassed if embarrassed is spelled wrong and that song isn't by Cher.) I really think I need a nap. You should see the gorgeous irises blooming in the backyard (you're spared the photo journal) and fuzzy green of leaves just sprouting on the massive pecan trees we live under. They're the last leaves to come on in Warner Robins, a solid month behind ornamental trees, and when in April they do come on, boom! We have one of the most amazing sights I've ever seen. Walking on our street, Wavertree, seeing pecan trees 100 feet in the air with brand new leaves, I thought today how I hope one doesn't fall on a house. My house! They're not only 100 feet tall, they're close to 100 years old and brittle; or maybe 75 years old. I freaked last year when part of the tree in the back yard crashed. Enterprising Kent tore the big limb to the ground then took a 20-foot ladder and chain saw to the stump. The stump thudded to the ground (as he finished sawing it) under the ladder and rested on it, pressing the ladder away from the tree as Kent started down; Kent launched off the ladder midair and it flew to the left while the chain saw flew to the right and KENT landed on his fanny with a backward roll. I stood (in prayer) watching. A tree on our house would be not as easy to deal with.

So since I have a headache I'm done. Wishing you a happy weekend, and as I've lent my camera to Sister Rhoden to take pictures of Becky Saturday for the Peach County High School prom in her gorgeous and amazing modest dress which is a miracle and another story, I have nothing else to offer.

An apple, and clouds rolling by

It's supposed to rain later today. It'll be yucky for the weekend. Some of you have had snow - sorry. Glad there's none of that for us this weekend, just clouds shading and lighting the yard, our green green evergreen grass, as they roll by. I love skyscapes and shifting light. It's 88 degrees. A stunning afternoon. Well, I promised myself I'd write only as long as it took me to eat my apple. Nothing long. Done; and done.

Long post

The days are routine. Kent and I had sore throats yesterday - a comeback of what we had more than a week ago? Ugh. I'm keeping preoccupied, busy really. Decluttering, WAY. About a week ago I started on my sewing room, or I call it that but it's really the catch-everything-you-don't-know-where-to put-it room. I sat cross legged in the middle of magazine pages I tore last year out of the jillion magazines I've had around for the last five years (for recipes, house plans, garden tips, fitness instructions and general beautiful colors and bits of advice) and saved in manilla folders to organize . . . in protector sheets . . . 3-ring binders . . . someday . . . what? Cooking with these? Actually doing the exercises, like lunges in the middle of a high-paced walk along Ellicot drive in my neighborhood? Not. I don't look like ANY of the young vigorous ladies in their walking suits, leotards, or tankies with happy smiles on their faces. I have major illusions and not enough room in the nooks and corners of my sewing room anymore. I threw them out, all of them, and sighed and then felt terrific when I put the manilla folders back in the office supplies cabinet and tied a knot in the top of the trash sack.

Ah, well, I love this little sanctuary; it probably highly resembles my gray matter if you could take an inside view of it, my brain. Don't know, guess so. I've loved the room's separate parts for children's books and stuffed animals and photos of the grandkids, my personal childhood books and other leftover things, themselves somewhere between 40 and 50 years old; my yarn stash and crochet hooks and how-to instructions for towel tops, potholders, baby hats, etc.; all things scrapbook in nefarious, no, I mean various file drawers, shelves, cupboards and catch alls, heck; yearbooks, journals, photos in boxes and letters and poems (some memoribilia went into a plastic storage bucket last year that got put in the garage, and yesterday when I drove my car in and saw it for the first time in a year I about had a heart attack. The heat and brutal cold here will anihilate it pdq. Dang. Back in the house) and frames; ribbon and spools of thread and straight pins and doll clothes in a basket in a corner; more books, jigsaw puzzles and card- and posterboard and brown paper sacks, markers and doodly things; the poster of Scott from Les Miserables as Marius on one wall and a 16 x 20 black and white portrait of me when I was four years old on the opposite, and a color sketch of a Singer sewing machine and quilt, framed; ah, the credenza. Atop which is a pieced and hand-quilted cover under more old books and photos and wooden clock - well.

It's much. I love this place in my house. I've liked getting rid of stuff this week though out of it, and revisualizing. I'm five years older than when I moved in and set the room up; grandmotherly, more; powerful and resolved and less clingy. What do I need? So I'm cleaning it out. Maybe it'll be a bedroom for Abbie and Landon when they come to see me! And Joseph and Andrew. And for sure Brady and Garrett. How cool. I've given away this week a bucketful of fabric. Gone. Unused knick-knacks; planters and pots; half my books. Thrown away file drawers of papers from thirty years of classes at church and firesides, Institute, college, and studying for talks. Sorted old Christmas cards no end, keeping my stash still for craft projects and filing them out of sight. It's good today not to see them. Same with everything else that has disappeared neatly onto a shelf or perfectly into a drawer or cupboard - if it fits there, keep it.

I gave away half my shoes Saturday. What's crazy is the more I clean up, the more I see needs it! This morning I got (properly) disgusted with one of my kitchen cupboards and cleaned out four. Of course put unnecessary things in the junk pile. Happy!!!! Say it with me - Hap-peeee!

Long post. Sorry. If you're here, thanks for reading. Dan, you skimmed I know, kind of girly stuff. Did you read the part about Joseph and Andrew maybe coming? How are you liking Pi? Okay, well, yes, busy. And more to do - all the women I visit teach are REALLY in crisis, bam, suddenly and all at the same time. Four different families Janet Poppe and I are fending for this month, so there's lots to do and I need my brain to be clear and active (what a blessing and a promise - remember?) to discern what's needed for these friends and families and how best to spend my time and energy; it helps that my personal space is slowly but surely becoming free around me and I have a literal sanctuary here in my own home.

Love you, love you, love you, you're my treasures. Mom/Nat

There is a power

Typing away here I'm looking out my windows at gray, gray, gray. It's a one-color day today - blah. I'd wish for sun and the sparkle of springy colors if we hadn't just come from watching two days of General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Saints which, with its messages of Jesus Christ and invitation to live like him, the exquisite music and spoken word, has been a breathtaking and beautiful time; for me surpassing most other things that have made me oooh and aaaah the last few weeks. A little bit about Conference, from the the church's own website:

General conference combines the intimacy of the personal and the fellowship of the communal. There is a power for Mormons watching general conference in London, England, or listening to it in Chandler, Arizona, even if they watch or listen alone. That power comes from a sense of gathering with millions of others who share the same faith in Christ and who are experiencing the event together. Many of the Church leaders who speak at general conference, such as the new president, Thomas S. Monson, travel the world in their respective ministries. As they do so, they meet members of the Church from Accra to Anchorage and learn of their challenges. As they prepare to speak at conference they take into account the circumstances and difficulties of individual members and seek inspiration to deliver messages that will be relevant and uplifting.

'kay, new subject: Here. I grinned when I saw this, and have to pass it along. I'm always doing this, aren't I, sending you off to another blog (link)! Read the whole post if you can (The Daffodil Principle), but if not, scroll a little way down and enjoy the picture. Oh it makes me happy! Hope you like. I like what she writes at the end of the post: There is no better time than right now to be happy.

So much to admire in life, so much to be grateful for. Love you all, so dearly, Nat/Mom

p.s. OH! And I LOVED Life of Pi. That's another post.

Tagged

Kent's still sick and taking a sick day now instead of a vacation day. He's miserable. Flowers at Callaway are not blooming at peak yet the lady said when I called last night. And it's raining.

I'm tagged! By Ro. I love Rozanne Paxman's blog. I started reading her life muses on ScrapGirls.com months ago, and was one day delighted to find a link (did she put it there, just, or did I, hello, finally discover it!) to this place, Life Muses. I commented a while back on a particular post, can't remember exactly where or when, but so remember the feeling I had after reading it, and had to say "wow!" Within a few hours she had written me back. What a cool feeling to see her e-mail in my box. I'm ten again and just moved into the neighborhood; ahhh mom, don't make me dust right now. I'm going outside to play. There's friends out there! We're probably the same age-ish, same years married or so, if I hadn't divorced and been single for about ever and remarried which, of course sets me back, well. I don't know; these aren't very significant ways to be alike, right? How can I name why I like your style and your blog, Ro? I relate to where you come from, where you live, and where you go; how you say it and how you mean it, and it gets me right where things DO (for me) matter most. Like a flower to sunlight I turn here time and again. You're inspiring. You give life to my thoughts and you're funny. You lift me up. Thanks for coming out to play today! You guys, check out Ro's blog. You'll like it! Well, I mean, those of you who eat salad with green dressing at Cafe Rio and dig reality tv and love Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice. he he

So tag, I'm it.

1. Four jobs I have held: Legal secretary, Ewers and Toothaker, McAllen, TX, age 19-20; secretary for Smoot Commercial Brokers and Smoot Real Estate, Centerville, UT, age 40-45; Wasatch Front Regional Council secretary, Salt Lake City, UT, 45-47, HR assistant at Children's Friend, Inc., 48 - 50. Done.

2. Four movies I could watch over and over: Sneakers, Miss Potter, To Kill a Mockingbird, Bagger Vance

3. Four places I have lived: Lakeland, FL, Cincinnati, OH, Provo, UT, Warner Robins, GA

4. Four TV shows I like: Andy Griffeth reruns, Monk, Divine Design/Get Color, The Spoken Word with Mormon Tabernacle Choir

5. Four people that email me regularly: Mom, Sandra Hale, Janee Haslem, Jean Fields

6. Four favorite foods: Salmon cakes, Rice Krispie treats, meat loaf, spinach. I like the spinach in my meat loaf.

7. Four places that I'd rather be: Sitting on the big rock at the top of Chase Lane in Centerville (the mountain top above the end of the road) watching planes come in; getting a massage; walking for miles, ouch, with unhurt feet; on a lounge chair at the beach reading a book.

8. Four people I'm tagging: idk

Cross your fingers, eyes and toes . . .

This is one of my favorite spots in Georgia. Kent and I and Mom and Dad went two years ago around my birthday and were two weeks late to see flowers at their peak, mainly azaleas, so Kent and I planned a day trip for this week while I have a break from seminary. Yesterday Kent got sick. AGH! Cross your fingers he'll feel good enough to go tomorrow. Puhlease. He got up this morning feeling better than he did last night, and that's good, but it'll sure be better if he's 100% by tomorrow - or else, well, we'll just go another day and hope the blooms aren't faded. Take a look at the Photo Gallery link at the top of Callaway's web site - the pics are gorgeous. For this, the last week in March and first in April, I beg you to come see us! Heaven!



Concentrating



Fading colors



I was talking to Laura on my cell the morning of my birthday while I zoomed in and took this picture one-handed. Kinda' sorta' good.



In the horticulture center. See the water drop? (Double click for a close up.)



Seeing this brings it all back!



I'm a color-phobe! p.s. Amy commented that I'm a color-phile, not phobe. Yeah, what she said!



Tired and happy and wanna' go back April 3, 2008.