Lovely afternoon in May: my sister's surprise party

kill the beast...

... or: things I've (re-)learned about URIs this week

1.  If an enormous yellow cloud of pollen literally envelops you while you are simply minding your own business, drop everything and head for the nearest shower.

2.  While you're at it, rinse out those sinuses really, really well.

3.  If you have one of those afternoons where you lock your keys in the car, can't find an open restroom, and then drop your phone in the sink, all within an hour, consider locking yourself inside until the storm passes honey, 'cause it's comin'.

4.  Use every trick in the book.  Even if it might not help.  Rinse, spray, inhale, vaporize, decongest, and anti-inflame until you drop.  

5.  When you drop, go to bed, and stay there.

6.  When you wake up with one side of your sinuses completely blocked, and your face is grotesquely misshapen and one eye is nearly shut, don't panic.  Not yet, anyway.

7.   When your sinus cavities are filled with cement and nothing will move it, call the doctor, because all bets are off for home remedies, and you are doomed. 

8.  At some point, take your temperature because everyone you talk to will ask if you have a fever.

9.  When you go to see the doctor, be polite.  It's not her fault you're sick.  Try to sound intelligent (because you are) without being dismissive (because that doesn't help).  Be specific and descriptive of the things you've tried so she knows you know what you're talking about.  If she doesn't respect that and enter into an intelligent conversation with you, go talk to someone else.

10.  When the medical treatment is having no effect, and it's Friday, and you're actually getting worse, call the doctor.  Don't take no for an answer, and don't take "you need to come in again" for an answer, either.  Hold out, and they will eventually give you what you need.

11.  Keep lots of liquids in the house.  Herbal tea is a nice break.  Just keep drinking.

12.  It's fun to make fun of yourself when speaking to other singers, because your voice is at least an octave lower than usual.

13.  Laughing will always make you cough, so just be ready.

14.  It pays to spring for the softest kleenex possible, and get it by the case at Costco, because it is not in the least bit difficult to go through three full boxes in as many days.

15.  Even if you don't feel like cooking, get into that kitchen and make some Chinese penicillin.  It's nothing fancy, but you will be so glad you did.  Even if you'd rather stay curled up on the couch, all bundled up and cozy, get off your arse and make it. Now.

Hot and Sour Soup, KQ-style

4-6 cups (a fairly large pot) water

3 chicken bouillon cubes, or about 1 per cup-and-a-half of water

1-2 tsp white pepper

¼ cup white vinegar

3 cloves garlic, minced (I use the Trader Joe's frozen garlic cubes)

1 tsp minced cilantro, to taste (TJ's has frozen cubes for this, too)

fresh sliced mushrooms, to taste

fresh sliced green onion, to taste

frozen dumplings (again, TJ's to the rescue!)

sesame oil

yeah, I'm out of fresh veg.  they turned while I wasn't looking.

Boil water.  Add bouillon and pepper.  Cook for a minute or two.  Add vinegar, garlic, cilantro and veggies.  Simmer for 5 minutes, adjust to taste (but remember that the broth should be REALLY spicy and vinegary, so don't go erring on the too-gentle side.)  Add the dumplings, bring to a boil and cook for 2 minutes more.  Drizzle with oil, to taste.  Be well.

Christian Politics

I've been using an online Lenten devotion this season.  I have been pretty faithful to it, no small feat for me, and I am glad for that.  This week's theme is "Vulnerability", and today's scripture is Luke 4:5-8, about the time when Jesus was in the desert for 40 days before beginning his ministry:

priestlyrant.wordpress.com/

Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world.  And the devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please.  If you, then, worship me, it will all be yours."  Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and worship only him.'"

When I first remember hearing this passage, in adolescence probably, I thought that the devil had shown Jesus all of the kingdoms of the world of his time - what we think of as ancient times.  I did not yet think about or realize that God is not confined by time, and I probably was thinking of the story more of a history lesson than a spiritual one.  

Now I believe that this story is probably saying that Jesus was shown all kingdoms; past, present and future.  To me, this means that Jesus saw what it would be like to rule our world, too, every country, every government.  China.  Somalia.  Denmark.  Great Britain.  Afghanistan.  The United States.

[It's a paradox to me, because I do believe that God in Jesus (or by whatever name we understand God) is sovereign on Earth, Creator of all we know and all that we don't know.  On the other hand, Jesus rejected that sovereignty in this story - at least, as it was presented to him by the devil.  Perhaps this means that although God is ruler of all whether we acknowledge God or not, God lets us choose to acknowledge Jesus - or whatever name we understand - and does not insist on it.  Thank God!]

Another thing that I missed in this story when I was young is the part where the devil says, "I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please."  Interesting, isn't it, that here we hear that the devil actually was given (presumably, by God) authority over every kingdom.  I just kind of skipped over that part every time I read this story.

www.sodahead.com

So this is how my mind wandered to politics today when I read this passage - if Jesus was shown every "kingdom", including the US in that moment of temptation... if Jesus rejected all authority over our nation... if the devil has the glory and authority over every nation, including ours, and is free to give it away to anyone [he?] pleases... then I really don't understand how any Christian, fundamentalist or otherwise, can hope for Jesus to have authority over our nation.  Or any nation.  After all, our book - the Word of God as they/we know it - says that the devil has this authority and Jesus rejects it.

To me, this means that anyone who claims to be working for the dominion of Christ over anyone but themselves either doesn't understand scripture (admittedly, in the way I understand it) or is actually working for the devil.  Which is kind of how I view Christian conservatism in this country.

To me, any Christian person who, by their word or deed does anything to turn another away from Christ is not doing the Lord's work. ("If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea." Mark 9:42, full context here.) This includes exclusion of any group, campaigns against any legitimate freedom of expression or belief, and any personal offense towards another human while representing Jesus.  And every Christian, by definition, represents Jesus to the rest of the world.  I am certainly guilty of some of these sins, though not by intention. However, to actively pursue the exclusion of a group, or legitimate freedom or belief, to make that exclusion an essential tenet of your belief system, is the devil's work.

it's on Amazon...

Perhaps this is why conservative Christian dogma offends me so.  Their loud, offensive, hurtful, belligerent claims to be the exclusive keepers of Jesus are not just annoying.  It is that when they claim to represent Christ with that point of view, they are doing spiritual violence against all people, including themselves.  It is because when people hear their claims - especially since they are very, very loud - people believe that this view is what all Christians believe.

But here's hope: the politics of the conservative right wing is beginning to change, oh-so-slowly.  Some of their people are actually coming out for equal rights for LGBT people.  It's a start.  Why, just yesterday someone who was once a close friend contacted me and apologized for writing me off as a non-Christian because of my political beliefs and LGBT-positive stance.

I thank God for these changes, and pray for more, so that the spiritual violence ends.

And I remember, when all is said and done, that Love always wins.

All images found on Google; no copyright infringement intended.

transcendence

The Bethany Quartet, at our 20th Anniversary (and only) Recital

I have done some singing in my life.  I have an okay voice.  It has never been strong - and lack of use and middle age has not helped that.  It has rarely been confident - aside from a brief, egotistic period in my high school days, I do not like to sing in public without at least three other people around me.  But I don't have to! 

The "Bay Belles" in the early-mid 80's

I know some extraordinary singers.  I have been blessed to meet, sing, and grow friendships with the owners of some remarkable voices.  Outside of family, I believe that I can trace every significant relationship and event in my life to singing.  I met the father of my children in choir.  I met each of my closest friends singing.  I came back to church in my 20's because of someone I met in choir.  I met my soul mate in choir.

It began in high school, this singing-makes-friends thing that has really been central to my life.  It was there that I was first exposed to the joy that is acapella singing.  It continued in early adulthood, as I joined an acapella group - we sang chamber music in Renaissance garb, and called ourselves "The Schleptet" - which formed out of the local community college. 

a reunion photo of some of the Schleptet (and our kids)

Four of the men in that group were in a barbershop quartet, so three of the women and I formed our own quartet. (This is where I first learned that long talks and sharing our lives together during rehearsal is just as important as singing!)  When the Schleptet sang together, it was sublime.  Rehearsal time was intimate, in somebody's living room, standing in a circle.  We'd quit goofing around and begin to sing, to each other really, watching the beat, eyeing each other for cues and cutoffs. 

Sometimes it was all I could do to just close my eyes and absorb the amazing, transcendent sound of 10 people, each singing a different harmony.  Talk about soaring.

The Bethany Quartet on a road trip in 2000

As those groups grew up and faded away, a new singing era began for me, at church.  We formed a women's quartet - inspiringly named "The Bethany Quartet", ha! - just over 25 years ago.  I also joined the choir, and have participated off and on over the last few decades.  More recently, my quartet and a men's quartet have joined forces.  The "Super Quartet" is the latest incarnation for me of the ability to make transcendent music with only the human voice.  Oh, my goodness, it is heaven to sing with those seven people.

We had a rehearsal just the other night.  Unfortunately, one of us is having voice troubles.  We sat around a table and discussed what to do.  The conversation was laden with love, respect, and humor.  We came away deciding that we would not sing together for a while, to allow that one voice to heal.  This was a sad conclusion to reach, but we know that we will sing together again.  We left the building, stepping out into a balmy, pre-Spring evening. I stopped to listen as we each called out quietly to the others our good nights, reminders of the next time we would meet, that sort of thing.  It all seemed so dear, it made me tear up a bit.

I love these people so much, I said to God.  Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NPR has a series called "Tiny Desk Concerts".  When I clicked on this one from the Minnesota group Cantus, it captured perfectly for me the essence of the intimacy that singing together brings.  This is not something you will see in a concert hall.  Watch how they look at each other, how they curl around each other, their body language when they are singing, and when they are not.  This is bliss.

One at a time...

This has begun making the rounds on Facebook. It seems to me that it was going around last November, too, so I'm not sure this is current, but a cursory investigation indicates that this is truly Nordstrom's annual policy.  

 It's getting a lot of play (and is very popular.)  Here's my 2¢.

About 15 years ago, I was working near Union Square in San Francisco. (Nightmare job - but that's another story!) It was my birthday - October 3.  It was about 85º outside, a beautiful Indian Summer day.  I was amazed and appalled when, looking up at the huge Macy's facing the square, every single window was decorated with a Christmas wreath.  October third. 

Fast forward to about 5 years ago, same location in mid-October: no Xmas decor!  Why?

I think it's because they have found a way to cash in on Halloween.  It is a BIG money-maker for retailers now.  Not just candy and costumes - orange and purple lights! glittered pumpkins! enormous inflatable lawn decorations! life-sized zombies! bodies hanging from trees! (Yes, really, and right at the end of my block.  Very disturbing.)  Retailers have monetized Halloween.  Weird, but at least by having a profitable holiday between Labor Day and Christmas, we have been saved from sights like the above windows before it's time to put away the sleeveless shirts.  Now all that red and green stuff comes out on November 1, along side the 30% off (really, Target? not 50%?) Snickers and M&M's.

This new trend thrills me, actually.  I don't buy into elaborate Halloween decor - at most, I'll buy a couple of those cute little pumpkins.  If they're active in October, I am usually more invested in what is happening with the Giants.

So here's my idea on how to further push retailers' cashing in on Christmas back to Advent:  Let's monetize Thanksgiving!  Just think of it: Giant inflatable turkeys, cornucopias and pilgrims. Elaborate light shows in amber and orange. Strands of oversized faux colorful leaves streaming from car antennae.  Politically correct t-shirts commemorating Native Americans' oppression.  Books about gratitude written by Justin Beiber and the New Jersey housewives.

I won't buy into that, either.  (Well, okay, maybe a t-shirt.)  But if it catches on, maybe more retailers will follow Nordstrom's lead and save the joy of Christmastime for December.  Wouldn't it be nice to walk into a store decked out in Christmas decorations and think, "wow, how wonderful!" instead of "oh crap! already?!"

**None of the above images are mine.  Any copyright infringement is unintentional.  Please contact me if these images are yours, and I will remove them.

Welcome back

It's been a year since I've done this.  This is not an apology.

Occasionally (and especially recently, probably why I'm here now) I get a yearning to blog, some spark of an idea... Often as not, I've told myself that it's either too personal, or that what I really should ("should" - a dangerous word) be doing is writing in my own private journal.  I haven't made a regular practice of that in over a decade, probably, unless you count knocking out a dozen or so pages every winter when I go on retreat.

The year included Dad's steep decline in health and his death.  Simultaneously, a deep and shattering heartbreak over the death of a dear friendship.  I took on a half-dozen projects at church, all of which were pretty much abandoned while I tended to the first two matters.  I thought I found a new job - and then discovered I hadn't.  This broke my Spirit more than my heart, I think. 

Recently, I've picked up some of the pieces.  I've been able to work on most of the church projects, hopefully without disappointing too many people.  This one is the biggest, and in some ways it is also the loneliest.  

For now, I'll not change any of the formatting/colors, etc.  Of course I love to do that, but it is not the reason I'm back, and this looks fine to me for now.

Anyway, I'm back.  We'll see how it goes.

Thanksgivings

You know, for someone who is a fairly traditional person... for someone who was raised with something of an Norman Rockwell mentality... I have had some pretty odd Thanksgivings.
Back in the day when my kids were less independent (a.k.a. before they were grownups) we had what I called even and odd years. On the even years, we were all together: my kids, my folks, my siblings - everyone. It was great. It's always great when we are all together. I am/we are so blessed. And then there were the odd years. My kids were with their dad, my siblings were with their in-laws, and I was... mostly left to fend for myself. Those holidays were certainly odd. I've made some interesting choices.
There was the year that I was invited to spend Thanksgiving in Louisville. I got to spend quite a bit of time with T. and Marty, and meet T.'s family, which was great. And Louisville is beautiful. (My joke with T. is: I'd love to see it some time!) I had a nice solo ramble through a neighborhood cemetery. And I saw Churchill Downs from the airplane window. Mostly, I was indoors with a lot of cigarette smoke. But it was great. Also: a little weird.

There was another year, also with T. At the time he had a lot of friends in the Folsom (gay) leather crowd. We went to a woman's house in Dublin. Her name, I was told, was "Mama", and she takes in all the orphaned gay men and their friends for the holiday meal. I did a big number on my own head before I even got there. It was fairly ordinary holiday gathering. And it was quite a trip.
The most incredible holiday meal I have ever experienced was with my kids in Seattle. There was to be a gathering at J.'s friend's house, pot luck. We arrived on time, sweet potatoes in hand. Counting us, there were 6 people in the house. The TV was on, tuned to something bizarre (maybe that was just me), and everyone in the house was turned towards the tube. There was no table. All attempts at conversation fell like a lead balloon. It was the longest two and a half hours I have ever spent. Ever.
This year was a bit odd, but pales in comparison to anything mentioned above. I was sick with a cold, so I spent the day all alone. I just couldn't risk infecting anyone - especially Dad - with my cooties. And ya know, it was fine. I slept in, snacked a little, talked to my son, my daughter and T. on the phone, made a little thanksgiving photo album on facebook, watched a lot of TV (mostly The Waltons), baked a pumpkin pie without a crust. And when the day was over, my mom dropped off a huge tray of leftovers from the family dinner.
So blessed, am I!

Mmmm...

Don't you just love summer tomatoes?

I like leaving them out on the counter in a pretty bowl... preferably, made by my sister!

Even though they are pricier than grocery store 'maters, I go a little crazy with the heirlooms at the farmer's market this time of year. They are 120% tastier, meatier and fresher than grocery store tomatoes, so I don't feel too bad about the expense. I like to get at least one of every color, and a nice mix of sizes - from bigger-than-my-head (almost) to the teensy tiny ones - and before I know it, I've got about seven pounds of tomatoes.

As much as I love them, it can be a challenge to finish them off before they go bad. You can't refrigerate them or they'll turn into mushy, flavorless things, and you know rotten tomatoes do no one any good!

So what to do? Well, I've found a few simple, lovely things to do with Summer's "love apples". Ridiculously simple, so here you go:

Broil 'em:

Cut in half or slice thickly - should be no more than 2" tall -as many tomatoes as you think you might eat. Place on an broil-proof pan, sprinkle with herbs (unless I have some nice fresh stuff, I use the generic "italian seasoning" because I'm just not very picky.) Sprinkle with parmesean cheese. Broil until cheese is melty and tomatoes have wilted.

Marinate 'em:

A few hours before meal time, cut tomatoes into bite-sized chunks and place in a non-reactive bowl. Add to this: one clove finely chopped fresh garlic, torn or minced fresh basil, oregano, ground pepper, red pepper flakes. Toss gently. Pour some good olive oil over all, and toss gently again. Cover. Leave this on the counter for at least 2 hours. The tomatoes will release their juices and make a lovely accompaniment to pasta or as a bruschetta topping - no cooking!

but above all, enjoy 'em!

&**%$##!!!!! (part 3)

"It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.
"What comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person..."
Matthew 15: 11, 18-20

I've heard the above passages cited as an argument against profanity. But I have to wonder and ask: does a cuss word really defile? Is swearing the fruit of "evil intentions, murder, adultery" etc.? I'm thinking that perhaps Jesus was not referring to those "seven dirty words" that George Carlin was so fond of. (And no, I'm not going to link to those. You can find them easily enough if you are so inclined!)

I think Jesus meant that evil ideas and actions (kind of like the legal definition of free speech) - whether spoken, written or acted upon - are what defile us. It is the recurrent theme of the Gospels: what is in our heart matters to God. Our appearance, wealth and language do not.

I know a young woman - a friend of my kids - who is a devout Christian and an avid Giants fan. She was enamored of Brian Wilson (and this was before the beard), in part because he is not shy about proclaiming his Christian faith. (There is a lovely article about that here.) But one day she saw a game where he gave up a crucial hit, and let an unmistakeable F-bomb fly with full force.

kind of like that.

(photo from google images)

She said that it changed her opinion of him. I was surprised at this, and sarcastically wise-cracked, "yeah, because of course we know that professional ball players never swear..." It gave her pause, and I think she eventually changed her tune. (Besides, Brian's not only an amazing athlete and bone fide goofball, he is a genuinely Good Guy.)

Maybe sometimes profanity is the only way we can express our passion in the heat of the moment. Not all of us can be creative in these moments.

I'm coming to understand that the use or non-use of those few words have little to do with our personal faith walks. After all, what is more harmful: to withhold care for the poor, or an expletive? To wage violence, or to let fly with an angry cuss word? I really think that God cares much less about the words we use than what abides in our hearts.

&**%$##!!!!! (part 2)

I remember clearly when an incident at church made me think about my usage and tolerance of profanity. We were between pastors, and our young "pulpit supply" guest minister used the word "suck" repeatedly throughout his sermon. As in, "that really sucks". I was flabbergasted the first time, and annoyed at every repetition. Now, I admit that "suck" is one of my least favorite words as it is currently used in our language. But even with that factored out, it was inappropriate. The casual use of "suck" - "pissed off" is another example - in our vernacular has crept in to the point where it is fairly mainstream. Maybe the young pastor thought he was being edgy or cool, and it might be so in another setting. But he bombed in the pulpit. There is a time and place for everything, and language usage is no exception.

I was watching an episode of Martha Stewart the other day, and she had Ted Danson on the show. He accidentally let out a minor cuss word while they were cooking - on live tv - and immediately realized what he'd done. It's amusing... watch it here. It was their conversation that follows that I found interesting:

Ted: Do you ever swear when you're cooking?

Martha: [sarcastic] Oh, never. I never swear.

I really never thought of Martha as particularly profane, but as they discussed later (not in the above clip), everybody swears.

Well, nearly everybody.

Properly used, a cuss word can be very effective. Especially if one is not prone to using that part of the vocabulary, you're pretty much guaranteed to elicit a head turn when you do slip one in.

Even more impressive in my book, though, is the creative use of non-profane expletives. I know a woman who is a master of this. Her "aw, shucks" might be the most sincere expression of regret I've ever heard. (She also regularly uses "golly", and the more emphatic "golly gee".) "Crikey" is good. So are "fie!" and "nertz!". A former boss used "Jeezel Petes" - that was fun. Anybody remember Mork's "shazbot!"? Yeah, I enjoy those. I'm nearly as impressed when corporate advertising gets in the act:

*** to be concluded ***

&**%$##!!!!!

Cussing.

We all have different ways of using the language, don't we? Profanity is pervasive in our society, and the tolerance level for the words has risen to the point that it just doesn't matter to some people. A righteous and upstanding citizen can let a blue streak go - and yet, no harm is done. No lightening strikes.

Things certainly have changed. From HMS Pinafore's "damme" uttered by Captain Corcoran in 1879, to Clark Gable's "frankly, my dear..." in 1939, to current film and television, society's tolerance and understanding of swearing has changed dramatically. I might be a little behind the times. An example: the now-defunct "Six Feet Under". It was a fun, quirky show about a family of funeral directors. I liked it, but I have to admit that when I watched it I was pretty appalled by the language. I actually counted during one episode, and if I recall correctly there were 23 F-bombs in those 55 minutes. I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but I think that is excessive. I'm not a fan of the casual use of expletives. In many cases - as my ex-husband used to say - swearing only serves as proof of a limited vocabulary.

I remember learning all of the words and what they meant (more or less) when I was a young lass in middle school. And I used them, boy oh boy. In fact, I was able to achieve grammatically correct, multiple four-letter word sentences on a fairly regular basis. Never in front of my parents, of course.

she doesn't LOOK like a potty mouth, does she?

That is, until that one day when Dad heard me drop an F-bomb while I was playing outside with the neighborhood kids. You might wonder what his reaction was - but I can't tell you, because when he bellowed my name, I flew inside the house and disappeared into my bedroom as fast as I could! I don't think I came out for a week. I suppose Dad thought that my obvious shame and self-imposed grounding was punishment enough! By the time I reached high school (at the ripe old age of 14,) I realized that what I had was a bad habit. I swore reflexively, without thought or moderation. And so I decided to quit. To this day, I've learned that because I cannot seem to exercise moderation in this area, it's either complete abstinence or fairly "loose lips". I've chosen abstinence, and I don't swear freely any longer - well... hardly ever.

Like many instances of personal freedom, I don't really mind if you swear. I mean, sure - gratuitous, casual cussing won't necessarily endear you to me. And if I hang out with you on a regular basis, I might inadvertently pick some of that up from you. That would bug me; it would disturb my soul, and I'd have to re-moderate myself. (But that's my problem, not yours!)

My current stance: these are real words, not evil or even necessarily harmful. As long as they are not turned into weapons, what do I care?

****to be continued****

lemonade

So. I finally looked at the pictures that have been in my camera for two weeks, ever since the 2011 Q Fambly Campout. (It was a tender, lovely, cohesive and a little-bit strange weekend. But mostly wonderful.)

Not all of the photos turned out well. Like this one:

(click on any image to enlarge)

It's okay, but just kind of... boring. So I played with the editing feature on iPhoto, and ended up with a kind of painterly image that I actually like a lot:

See? like someone painted it with vibrant colors and a splashy style

There are also people shots that didn't turn out well. I'm going to blame the bright light and shadows... fair or not, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

too far away, out of focus, and the faces are unclear

Here are my son A. and my cousin's daughter F. They are, naturally, talking about playing baseball. Or probably whiffle ball. There are roughly 24 years between them, but they love each other and played like cousins - because that is who they are. Editing the photo in a similar fashion to the example above, I got a cartoony, drawn effect that I also like.

here, the above faults are not an issue, because now we what we see is their familiar, fond body language.
Not to mention: they are luminous!

17 things I've learned...

... about being a wedding florist...

1. The bride will have some theme or color scheme in mind before the process starts. Learn what this is. If possible, get a fabric swatch (or photo, or internet link) of the dresses and/or suits.
2. Set seasonal guidelines. Peonies don't bloom in the fall, and Dahlias do not bloom in spring.
3. Help the bride remember details. Will there be flowers at the venue? Where? Do the parents need flowers? Does the officiant? Is there a flower girl or ring bearer? How old are they? Will the bride or her attendants use a flower/flowers in her hair? What about the reception?
4. Discuss budget ahead of time, and stick to it. Even if this is a labor of love, nobody likes expensive surprises.
5. Make detailed lists. How many bouquets? boutonnieres? How many pieces to each?
6. Take the bride to the flower market a couple of weeks before the wedding. It helps if she brings a friend or her mom, to keep her grounded a little - the flower market can be a bit overwhelming!
7. Use this excursion to really learn about the bride. What flowers does she love? Or hate? Is there a must-have quirky detail that she likes? A color that she absolutely does not want? Pro or con on baby's breath?
   
8. Order any must-have, important flowers 2 weeks ahead of time. Use a reliable vendor, and strike a good deal.
9. Do the non-floral work ahead of time: buy ribbon, gather supplies, clean and disinfect buckets, set up a work station.
10. Make sure your clippers and scissors are sharp.
    
11. Get some help. Even if help is mostly there for moral support, that's going to be priceless to you. Plus: it's really hard to wrap a bouquet by yourself. Also, delivery is easier with some help!
12. Learn in advance the couple's wishes for delivery. Where will they be, and at what time? Pin them down on this detail.
13. Get some good rest during the week before the wedding. (You may be working very long hours on the wedding day and the day before!) Eat right, and drink lots of water.
14. Use a silverware caddy to transport the bouquets in small glasses of water.
15. Be early.
16. Bring supplies to the venue: extra ribbon, clippers, towels, flowers, floral wire and glue... be ready for anything to break or fall apart.
17. Relax! They asked you to do the flowers because they like your work. Plus: this is really fun.
    

I've only done two weddings; I am far (very, very far) from an expert, and I have a lot to learn! Still, some lessons are more hard-won than others. No point in squandering these, so it's good to make notes!

vacation!

Day One of eleven days in which I do not have to appear at my workplace. Hallelujia!

It's not that I hate my occupation. I don't. I actually love it a lot. I love connecting with the patients. I love my (gifts) abilities to put them at ease, educate, and empathize with them. I love the opportunity to observe a vast spectrum of our society. I love being told that I am good at what I do, and the positive feedback I receive, from my patients and my doctors.

*this is how I want to take care of my patients - and I do, when "they" let me.

An affirming moment yesterday:
It was a busy morning. I called Patient B in, and noticed Patient A, who had been elsewhere in the clinic. "Are you done with Dr. ___?" "Yes." "Okay, we'll be with you soon." It was a typical exchange, nothing remarkable. When I brought Patient A into the exam room, he was very cheerful - not unusual for him. He began our conversation, thanking me for replying to his phone message a few days ago. He was effusive with his praise. He never expects to reach someone on the phone when he calls, much less receive a call back when he leaves a message. He went on to say, "I would like to tell you that you were the subject of conversation in the waiting room. People were talking about how nice you are." Wow. How lovely!

*

*

(Tangent: !!! I am always fairly appalled at the low expectations for service in this particular, enormous, HMO under which I am currently employed. I am even more appalled at the low respect my fellow employees [and managers] have for the time, feelings and dignity of the patients. Based on my limited experience here, if I had to quantify the corporate attitude toward ethics, it would be that the sole motivation is avoidance of litigation. If it's not illegal, screw patient dignity.)

*if this woman was a patient where I work - and this image is certainly representative of
the patients I meet - she would likely: expect to be acknowledged only after offering her
HMO number (and not her name),never be asked if her assigned appointment is convenient for her,
never expect to have her medical tests explained to her, never expect to reach a warm human
being if she calls the doctor (not expect an answer to a message),
never expect the support staff to be pleasant or knowledgeable.
Anything outside of those expectations is considered extraordinary.

Anyway.

Vacation! More later (no, I really mean it this time!) Wedding flowers to show, and other stories to tell: perhaps some baking projects, gardening, a baseball game... I'm free! I'm free!

*none of the above images originated with me; they are compliments of Google images.

o what a rainy season

fourth day of Spring, 50º and very, very wet.

dashing between the rainshowers...

Spring is here!

confession

I did something terrible.

Driving to and from work in San Francisco, there are - inevitably - people begging in the street. Not on the street. In the street. At large intersections, men (it's almost always men) wander between the lanes of cars, holding signs, endangering themselves and others when the light changes and the traffic moves. It's not legal - there are laws against panhandling in traffic because it's so dangerous. But it is pathetic.

I still haven't figured out what to do about the hungry people who intersect with my life. I am so fortunate. We are so fortunate. There is nothing, nothing so special about us that entitles us to be free from hunger while others are not. It is good to be grateful for our blessings, to pray for those who do not seem to be equally blessed, and to work for the betterment of others. I need to work on that third part.

The other day I was driving home, and I had a snack in the car. Munching away, I approached the corner of Market and Gough, and there he was: the guy with the shopping cart. He is often on that same corner when I'm on my way home from work. When the light turns red, he walks up the row of cars with his sign, hoping for a handout. (He, unlike his brethren at Mission and Van Ness in the morning, stays on the sidewalk.) I knew he was there, but I did not look. In fact (and this, to me, is the shameful part) I put my hand up to my temple, as if I was shielding myself from the sun, hiding from him. It was not the sun that was blinding: it was his pain. I had food right next to me, but I gave him nothing. I pretended that he had not touched my heart. I pretended as if it didn't matter. I pretended that he didn't matter, and I drove away.

When I returned home, I took the leftovers of an inedible casserole flop I'd made a few days before, and I dumped it down the garbage disposal. More food wasted. More food that will feed no one who needs to be fed.

O, the disgrace.

Lord have mercy.

brilliant

Spent some time on my day off Thursday with my sister. The evening before, with a dear friend whose calling seems to be listening intently. Apparently, all is not lost, even in this dry land.When it rains in the dessert, miracles can happen.

unfocused

Unfocused am I, that's for dang sure. Whether it's organizing my day at home, figuring out relationships at work, keeping any semblance of a spiritual life, managing money, seeing to eating good foods and getting exercise - none of it is exactly honed in.

And yet - the faithful part of me adds - there is beauty in there. Underneath the fuzzy lack of clarity, sheer beauty.

tulip and stock "leftovers" from a Sunday arrangement

Must. Focus.

love, KQ

Lenten journeys

I like keeping a page-a-day calendar in the kitchen. It's fun to tear off that page, read the new day's message - it's kind of a ritual. I usually get Mary Engelbriet's calender, and it is always a comforting, wise and/or cute way to start the day. This year I thought I'd try something different. I bought one with a pretty photo and a scripture passage on each page. Well, the scripture is in tiny white lettering on a light green background - wait, let me get my glasses - ha! And the photos... well, they're pretty, all right. But into the second week of January, I caught on to something. (Hey, wait a minute...) Every photo was of a path. Or a road. Or a trail. Or a road. Every stinking picture was a metaphor for "journey". 300+ photos of the same thing? That's a little too much for me!

There are so many "journey" metaphors for Lent. I'm not going to list them here - not that I could possibly undertake such a task. Like all travelers, sometimes we need a little help along the way. I posted on Facebook last week a request for on-line or podcast Lenten reflections. (I was actually hoping for podcasts, as that would have worked well into my resolve to start walking for excercise again. Alas, I've yet to hear of or find one.)

I got two suggestions, and actually found a third. One of the suggestions - forgive me, Crickl - just seemed more complex than I could manage this time around. But this one is working for me. And this one intrigues me. Plus, there's always this (good year-round, actually).

a journey of opening...

love, KQ