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.

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!

Breath of Heaven

(hearing from Joseph, we now hear from Mary's story)

I have traveled many moonless nights. Cold and weary with a babe inside. And I wonder what I've done. Holy father, you have come and chosen me now to carry your son.

I am waiting in a silent prayer. I am frightened by the load I bear. In a world as cold as stone, must I walk this path alone? Be with me now. Be with me now...

Breath of heaven: hold me together, be forever near me, Breath of heaven! Breath of heaven, lighten my darkness, pour over me your holiness. For you are holy, Breath of heaven.

Do you wonder as you watch my face, if a wiser one should have had my place? But I offer all I am for the mercy of your plan. Help me be strong... help me be... help me....

Breath of heaven: hold me together, be forever near me, Breath of heaven! Breath of heaven, lighten my darkness, pour over me your holiness. For you are holy, Breath of heaven.

This song has been a part of my Christmas for many, many years. After singing it this Advent with my little church choir, however, it will never be the same. I will now always hear Ms. Laura Grace singing in slightly anxious, dulcet maiden tones the (well-imagined) words of Mary, and the angelic choir in response. I will remember the tears and the love that were evident in response on that December Sunday morning. I will remember the look of fierce pride and love on Laura's father's face, and the calming reassurance on her mother's.

I will remember the realization that Mary's pleas - hold me together, be near me, lighten my darkness - are supplications that I have made in the past, perhaps we all have, and that my friend Sue, who sang right beside me that morning, now makes on a daily basis. And I remember that those who cry out to God - we are the lucky, the blessed ones. For we believe that there is One who hears our pleas. Breath of Heaven.

Auld Lang Syne

sure, it's a long clip. but classics are totally worth it, right?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,and days of old lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne
we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun 'til dine;
But seas between us broad have roar'd since auld lang syne (v.4)

And there’s a hand my trusty friend ! And give us a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne. (v.5)

So this is the song we sing, in the wee hours of this day. It is foreign, it is tossed off without a thought. We don't even know what it really means. Well... not so fast. According to Wikipedia (the inerrable source quoted above), Sally was right, it really is about old friends: "The song begins by posing a rhetorical question as to whether it is right that old times be forgotten, and is generally interpreted as a call to remember long-standing friendships.

I am as likely as anyone to get mushy around the holidays, especially about old friends. If I were to do a call-out here, the list would be long, not terribly interesting (after you'd read the names you already know) and likely - inadvertently - incomplete.

I simply know that I am inordinately blessed by good and even excellent friendships, and have been for most of my life. I cannot imagine the poverty of being without loved ones. Heck, I got sick the other day, and five people offered to bring me groceries. Well-stocked cupboards aside, that is some wildly generous stuff. What rare, rich and fortunate beings we are, to be so blessed as to live in a community of caring fellow humans! To be connected, one to the other, by love and by friendship. Words hardly do justice, and cannot truly express my joy in you, dear friend. As I grow older and, hopefully, wiser, I pray that I take my friends less for granted and give thanks for the extraordinary human bounty they represent!

Happy 8th day of Christmas to you all!

Solstice

from this source

Did you see it? Last week, the full moon occurred on the Winter Solstice - and then, to top it off, it eclipsed. Like, totally. What an amazing confluence of cosmic events: it has not happened since the early 17th century, and it shan't happen again until 2094 - I don't intend to be around for that one! I do not necessarily believe that the things that happen in the sky influence my earth-bound behavior. However, I am a big fan of natural events and good timing, not to mention being a big fan of the Creator of such events.

I almost missed it - I thought it was going to be on the evening of the 21st, but (in this time zone) it happened at about 11:30 on the evening of the 20th. (I'm so glad I was paying attention!) It was raining on and off, so I was also unsure that anything would be visible in the heavens... but the sky cleared, and I ventured outside around 11:15. I wasn't sure where to look, so I just went out to the courtyard of my building - there are no great views of the sky there, but I didn't really know where the moon would be in the sky at that time. All I needed was to look up: there she was, directly over my head.

http://mantoos.com/science/winter-solstice

So beautiful. So strange.

Not long after totality was reached, the clouds returned and hid the moon. (I felt some relief to be going inside - my neck ached from tipping my head back so far!) My constant companion, my iPod, was with me as I watched bella luna... playing selections from the many versions of Windham Hill's Winter Solstice recordings. It is an Advent tradition for me to begin my Christmas music listening with these albums recordings. They relax and inspire meditation in me, and I play them often. So of course, I had the Windham Hill playlist going as I dashed outside into the cold. It was a perfect companion.

P.S. ~ it's the fourth day of Christmas!

the Cradle Song

Be near me Lord Jesus
I ask thee to stay close by me forever,
and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children
in thy tender care,
and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

It's enough to break your heart, isn't it? Those words, that song, that tune... It is achingly tender and oh, so beautiful. Of course, I am in a fairly tender spot right now, but it brought tears to me this morning in worship. Something about being rocked gently and loved tenderly... something about the inclusivity of all the dear children... something about living our lives in a way that is fitting for the One who loves us so dearly... All that sentiment in just three or four breaths? Impossibly sweet.

Yesterday was Christmas Day. (Today, of course, is the second day of Christmas, and we still have ten more to go!) All the dear children were under one roof for my family yesterday: my parents, their five children, all seven grandchildren and the single great-grandchild. With spouses and friends, there were twenty-one of us. We had a rollicking good time, yes we did. We ate well, laughed and kidded each other, caught up on each other's news. We tried a white elephant gift exchange for the first time, and that was just too fun. I looked over at one point (I think it may have been when nephew KMQ opened a gift that consisted of 2 packs of staples and a chipped dental mold of his father's teeth) and Dad was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Overjoyed was the sentiment of the evening!

There was the joy of simply being together, of course. (I am not the only one of my family who subconsciously counts heads - and if someone is missing, the joy is diminished ever-so-slightly.) But there was more to it than that. We all know that it could be the last time for us all to be together for Christmas, which adds both a sting and a richness to the experience. The way that we were able to achieve it is bittersweet as well. For the first time in my recollection, Dad put out an edict: his only gift was to be that we would all be together. It goes without saying that this is what he always wants of us, for any holiday. But it has never been decreed... until this year.

Which brings us to the logistics of getting everyone there. This is not a difficult request for most of us. However, my middle brother DQ, who lives the farthest from us, has a very hard time traveling these days. He is too ill to get himself to us, and often too ill to travel at all. Because of this, he has missed a wedding, and most birthdays and holidays in the past few years. Knowing this, my son took it upon himself to get my brother to Christmas. A. called DQ and arranged ahead of time (though he was not going to take no for an answer!) He left right after breakfast and drove the 90 miles to pick up DQ, brought him to us... and when the festivities were winding down, did the whole thing again in reverse. Spending about 8 hours on the road. Mostly in a driving rainstorm. The night before he had an early flight out to Anchorage.

So this is the other part of what breaks my heart with tender joy. That my dear son has grown to be a man with such a generous heart. That my feeble brother was willing to risk his pride in letting him do so, as well as in revealing to us how feeble he has become. That my father risked his own pride by asking us all to give him his heart's desire. And that we all managed to gather in joy and love. We acknowledged what is before us but did not allow it to diminish us in any way ~ and in fact, our collective circumstance has enriched us beyond imagination.

Thanks be to God for these tender blessings!

my only thanksgiving recipe

One of the drawbacks (or benefits, as the case may be) of being the only one in your family who lives in an apartment is that you're simply not going to be the one to host holidays or parties. I've lived in this apartment for 14 years, I think. (Wow!) The only time I had everyone over was when I moved (though they were never all here at the same time) and on the day of Grandma M's memorial service. I do wish I lived in a big ol' house - I'd be the Christmas party house for sure.

So anyway, I've never roasted a turkey. There, I've said it. I think I've made mashed potatoes before, but that was probably 30 years ago or more. (I've got a good excuse for that one: I'm allergic to raw potato - break out in a terrible rash wherever it touches me.) However, I am usually good for bringing a dish or two to wherever the party is on Thanksgiving, and what follows is the recipe for the one I usually bring.

My friend B. asked for the recipe the other day, and I obliged... and thought I'd also share it with this space, in case others might enjoy. So - I hope you enjoy!

I'll give you the basics (I think I got it from a magazine ad in the 80's), and then the things I do to change it up, too, in case that appeals to you.

Berry Mallow* Yam Bake**

*I nixed the marshmallows years ago - it's already pretty darn sweet!
** hey, I googled "berry mallow yam bake" and this recipe is still alive on the interwebs!

combine:
½ cup flour
½ cup brown sugar, packed
½ cup rolled oats
1 tsp cinnamon

cut in until mixture resembles coarse crumbs:
⅓ cup butter the original said margarine, but I know better these days!

toss 1 cup of this mixture with:
2-17oz cans yams***
2 cups fresh cranberries
***of couse, nowdays the cans are a bit smaller. I use the 29 oz can. you can also use fresh, peeled sweet potatoes or yams, cut in 2" chunks - though you should bake it a little longer!

Place in a 1½ cup casserole, top with remaining crumbs. Bake at 350º for 35 minutes.

Simple, right? I usually make at least a double batch of this for my family. For the church dinner, I use 3 large cans of yams. I like to stir in chopped candied ginger and/or fresh orange zest with the yams & berries. And we've liked the resulting heat when I added a couple teaspoons of chipotle powder to the sugar mixture. At any rate, it's a really pretty dish; it's nice to have a non-beige item on the plate at T'giving! (Yeah, I've never taken a picture of it, so no photos here. Sorry.) Oh, and if you want to add the marshmallows, the original recipe calls for 1½ cups sprinkled on when it's finished baking, then under the broiler until lightly browned. I think that was how I set my oven on fire in 1982!

love, KQ

change...

a most intricate quilt

I really, really love the transition seasons.

fall makes me want to live in a small country town.
(but so does spring. and winter. and summer.)

This week I knew that fall was finally here when the temps rose over eighty (F) and then dropped to the high forties in the space of a day and a half. I was trying to figure out why I love that so much...

rainbows are everywhere when you know where to look...

I think it's the fresh, sting of cold when one walks outside from the warmth of home - the warmth lingers in the body, but the skin tingles with the chill. It's a delicious feeling to me. And then the reverse is also true: cold, cold skin (and/or fingers, toes, nose...)feels the immediate change moving indoors, and there is that tingle again as the comforting warmth envelops...

jewels that fall to the earth and then dissolve into it...

Oh, and the wet of rain, the slant of the sun, the changing (finally!) leaves and impossibly blue sky... for all these things, and more, I give thanks.

let's find more time to go wandering this season!

the Summer of twenty-ten (part VI) - in Memoriam

September 24

Twelve days after the wedding, a memorial service was held for the Bullis family. The Quartet was asked to sing, as well as the choir and the Prayz group. Our four living former pastors were invited to attend, and accepted. An army of ushers was formed.

Because Bethany holds 200 people at most, and estimates were that there would be five times that in attendance, we had a logistics problem. Enter 1st Presbyterian Church of Burlingame. They have a much, much larger sanctuary, with overflow rooms and even a large patio where the service could be broadcast to more overflow. The pastors worked things out, and we were told where and when to show up. When we did, it was amazing: all we needed to do was make the music. The church had thought of everything, took care of every detail from printing the bulletin - to helping with the sound check - to setting up rooms for the family, pastors and musicians to wait - to passing out water during the (quite warm) service. They were warm and gracious, unobtrusive yet enveloping. I know that the Bethany community will always be grateful for their hospitality.

Like the Sunday following the disaster, there was a feeling of family coming together. So many people from Bethany's past showed up to love and grieve with us. The pastors shared themselves without reservation, and what a comfort it was to have the rock of their presence. (The current pastoral circumstance is far from comforting, which made this even more important.) The choir sang an arrangement of "Amazing Grace" (Sung here by the Turtle Creek Chorale). The Quartet sang Bobby McFerrin's the 23rd Psalm. T. played his composition, Elegy in Eb, on the cello. The family shared with us precious memories of each loved one. A few close friends also shared memories. There was nothing about the afternoon that was not beautiful.

After the service there was a reception at Will's high school, just a mile or so from the church. (Attendees of the service were encouraged to park at the school, and buses were used to transport to the church.) It was held in the gym, with long tables spread with food down half the length of the gym under unreal, yellow lights. I got there late (took Mom home first, at her request), and had little opportunity to speak with the family. However, I did speak to a few of their neighbors - other folks from Bethany, who survived the blast - and I was so grateful to hug them and tell them that I was glad they had made it.

Winding down, T. and I sat out on the front lawn of the school, looking at the moon and replaying the previous few days and amazing event we'd just been part of. (This is part of what we do for each other: help one another to digest the big events in our lives.) I remember thinking that I was so grateful (there's that word again!) for the relationships I hold with the many dear friends I saw that day. I thought about how the grass felt on my bare legs, and when was the last time I sat on the grass? I remembered my own high school days. I thought about how - even in the midst of terrible sorrow - it was, truly, a perfect evening.

the Summer of twenty-ten (part I)

October already. Really? Wow. I am truly glad that the Summer of 2010 is over. I think that the events of the past few months will stay with me, literally, for the rest of my life. This past summer has felt abundant in life in all of its forms - sorrowful, joyful, stressful, suspense-filled, dread-filled, horrifying, rich in blessings and gratitude.

I've wanted to write about it. I did write a bit, about Aunt Alice, and about the campout and some hijinx. But because I feel that I have been either living moment-to-moment (in stress) or recovering (possibly hiding) from the stress, it has been impossible to write as much as I'd have liked. I think if I am ever going to process what has come to pass in the last few months, writing is what needs to happen. Bear with me; this will be in several chapters.

heirlooms

campfires are not mythical, but they are magical.
(* photos taken by Cammy Fumar)

We have gathered every year since 1981. Before that, we were all together for most of the major holidays: Easter, Mothers Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas. But the family just got too large. There were spouses and in-laws to consider, then babies, and it was just too hard to get together every time a holiday rolled around. But we missed each other, dearly. We decided to chuck it all, and to gather together for just one weekend each year: a family campout.

shadows... taken from the inside of my tent

We get along. Brother & sisters, their children and their children's children ~ we love each other and value our time together. People I know say that this is unusual. Perhaps they think that we belong to the Great American Mythical Family. They may be right. Not that we don't have our troubles ~ every family does. But we also have something very, very special, and the Q Family Campout is where it all comes together.

The place and date varies. It's still tough coordinating schedules, not everyone makes it, but somehow we manage. We gather on a Thursday, and depart on Sunday. On Saturday night we have a big ol' potluck dinner, ("something to barbeque and something to share") and even those who are non-campers but are close enough to drive come and join us. Uncle Wayne says the blessing, and we all cry. It's tradition!

part of the great circle of prayer in 2009
not all of us are people of faith, but on this occasion, we bow our heads together.

We began a new tradition a few years back, when Grandma's centennial came around. I guess we're calling it "the candle ceremony", and that's as good a name as any. One hundred (or so) candles are placed on a table. In the center, two pillars in a glass hurricane represent Grandma and Grampa. Surrounding them are candles representing their four children, a son and three daughters, and their spouses. Next, the 16 grandchildren, their spouses, children, and so on.

*2010 - the original four families

The candles are lit in the order of birth, (those who are present light their own candle,) and with each candle the beloved's name and birthdate are spoken. Though we begin in cool darkness, we finish in warmth and light. It is a beautiful thing and never fails to move me.

2009

We miss those who cannot be with us, and rejoice in those who are present. We hug each other, sometimes laugh and often cry. It is a sacred time.

*2010

*2010

Aunt Alice

taken at a family campout in the 1989. see? her hands are full, working on a project!
(photo by my Dad)

This is my Aunt Alice. Dad's youngest sister, Mom to three daughters and a son, grandmother of six. Uncle Wayne's bride of 56 years.

Uncle Wayne and Aunt Alice on the beach, celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary
(photo by Russ Hyde)

These two are so in love. They always dressed alike. They retired on the same day, so as not to waste a minute of their precious time together. They cooked, fished, worked and played as a team, inseparable.

Give Alice any challenge, and she would accomplish it. Incredibly creative, her hands were rarely idle. She could always be counted upon to come up with a wonderful craft project or a delicious recipe. She always had an opinion, and she loved to laugh. She was a Presence.

Alice in the center, with Aunt Ele on the left and Grandma on the right, some time in the 60's.
(the Coors and the Salems are Alice's)
(photo by Dad)

That is why I miss her so. Even though in recent decades we only saw each other once a year, those few days were always rich with Aunt Alice's presence. Preparing food for our family's annual reunion this week, I found myself thinking, "hmm... Alice would like this..." and then I'd stop short, and remember that she would not be with us this year, for the first time ever.

She was a great lady, and I will always love her and miss her.

gratitude, day 12

God gave you a gift
of 86,400 seconds today.
Have you used one to say

"thank you"?

~William A. Ward

gratitude, day 11

for a quiet dinner with a friend, and for the privilege of sitting with him through the mourning process, I am truly thankful.

gratitude, day 10

The spirit of God has made me,
and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.

- Job 33:4

For sunshine
crisp air
green veg chili*
wine-poached pears
creativity
and a surprisingly easy day

I am truly grateful.

*it turned out really, really good!

gratitude, day 9

Gratuitous photo to take up space in the blog
and make it appear more appealing (if not more interesting to read.)
Look at how weathered those prayer flags look!
And the tree! How golden!
This photo has nothing at all to do with the contents of this blog post.

Today was more of an adventure (in a small way) than I bargained for. Remember that day when n-o-t-h-i-n-g was scheduled or required? Ha. Ha ha ha.

After quite a long and joyful evening last night, I stayed up (again) way too late for no good reason other than I wasn't sleepy. (Blog post on day 8 will be up soon, I hope.) Six hours later, my alarm went off and I was up. Fixed a mocha, sat and checked out Post Secret and a few other things, and then got dressed for church.

Arrived an hour early, and I wasn't sure if there would be enough time to take care of what I needed to do: arrange the flowers (sunflowers, orange dahlias, muddy red-green hydrangea, and this weird stuff with red blossoms - it looked autumnal) for Andy's birthday, take off the apron and "finish" my outfit, do a mic check and read through today's readings for the lectionary all before 10:00. Well, either I am getting faster, or time was moving really slowly, because I got those flowers done by 9:25! I had plenty of time... phew!

After church, I took Mom home and we discussed the menu for Thursday. I am cooking a lot: sweet potatoes, a zucchini appetizer, and spinach salad. (The distribution of labor in a pot luck with only 5 people, two of whom are my kids, and another my father leaves not-so-much distribution after all.) I'm looking forward to it, actually. I'm really enjoying cooking these days.

I planned to take a nap, then didn't. Got busy on the computer and listening to a new CD (Yo Yo Ma & Friends Songs of Joy & Peace - wonderful! FIVE renditions of Dona Nobis Pacem!) forgot to have lunch, and once refueled, returned to the kitchen to make that green veggie chili. It turned out quite nicely, I think - will give it a day or so to mellow out. So much slicing and chopping and dicing! Onions, garlic, three kinds of peppers....

Okay, the peppers. There was a yellow bell, and two others. I forgot that I bought not two, but just one anaheim pepper, and the other was a poblano. They both looked the same. Well, they weren't the same, and I realized this just after I tasted a bit of that poblano. HOT. And then, of course, I also realized my mistake: no gloves when I chopped that sucker up. I shrugged it off - nothing hurt - and commenced with the chopping: zucchini, eggplant, green onion, cilantro. Figured (after I tasted that pepper) that (since nothing hurt) I'd clean off the cutting board after everything was chopped up. Mistake numero dos.

By the time the rest of the stuff was in the pot, my fingers were kind of burning just a bit. And then, suddenly, they were burning quite a lot. Okay, so wash the hands. Which made it worse. Well, I was a girl scout, I knew what to do. I poured a small glass of milk and put my fingers in it. (Lactose acid kills capsicum, supposedly.) Well, it still burned, and I was not expecting that. So I got on line again, one hand still in the milk, to ask facebook for help and to read about home remedies: rubbing alcohol (topical), vodka (internal?), baking soda, vegetable oil, bleach, you-name-it. I tried the baking soda (no difference, but I just dissolved it in milk), oil (maybe this helped?) and then just went back to milk. Three hours later, the chili was cooked and my hand was feeling less so.

My, this is turning into a long (and quite parenthetically heavy) post. With no pictorial evidence.

Another gratuitous photo to take up space in the blog
and make it appear more appealing (if not more interesting to read.)
No ladybugs were harmed in the writing of this post.
All rights reserved, except in places where they aren't reserved, your offer may vary.

Suffice to say: I've been fed - physically, musically, spiritually and socially - and will continue to be so for the foreseeable future.

And for that, I am truly grateful.

gratitude, day 8 (ish)

Saturday(the true day 8) was so full that I did not have time to pause and write about how very thankful I am for all that occurred. Let's see...

On the Saturday before Thanksgiving, my church has a big celebration. It is, for me, one of the best days on the church calendar, and my favorite non-worship event. This has evolved over the years, from being an all-out dinner cooked in the church from soup to nuts (well, from jello salad - with questionable mayonnaise topping, as I recall - to pumpkin pie.) The ladies of the church - and it was always the ladies, of course - got pretty tired, and then they retired, and no one stepped up to take their place in such a monumental endeavor. We didn't want to end the tradition, though, so we adapted (hello, Mr. Darwin!) and now it's a pot luck. The volunteer cooks (and one head chef - hello, Anne!) prepare the turkey, dressing and cranberries. The rest of the meal - mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, veggies and salads - we bring to the dinner. And oh, what culinary delights! Some folks (moi) bring the same thing every year, and we all look forward to our favorites (hello, Berta's heart-attack-potatoes!)

This year Mom & Dad actually made it home from their annual fall road trip in time to join me at the dinner. I haven't been able to really sit with them to hear stories about their travels, but there were non-family members at the table, so I got to hear about some of their trip. Dad's off-hand comment about "what we'd really like to do next year" nearly made me choke on my turkey. The trip is strenuous, and Dad's health has not been great, I didn't really think they'd go this year! I guess it's good to have something to look forward to... Lord, have mercy!

And then, after dinner, the best part! We have an annual talent show! This, too, has evolved over the years, depending on who is in the congregation. We've had 10-year olds with clarinet solos (hello Ed!), Dana Carvey's "church lady" impressions (hi Geoff!), readings of "Gunga Din", youth club skits, classical music, songwriter's presentations... oh, how I could go on. It's always such a delight, and (current era) always so darned impressive that we have so very many talented people in our congregation!

This year we evolved yet again, and combined the evening with our monthly Open Mic night. We had two guest acts, as well as the slew of Bethany performers, and oh, boy it was so fun. One of the couples did an hilarious rendition of a scene from Oklahoma! and ended up smooching. (In church! the scandal!) I did my annual reading of this delightful writing by Ian Frasier. (It's now in book form, too!) There was a song about hellfire - with a really tight band - and all of the music was just amazing. I came home with a glow, and that didn't wear off for ... oh, hours and hours.

And for these things, I am truly grateful.

gratitude, day 7

(no, not these. these were for Laura Grace, three weeks ago.)
photo courtesy of the Henry family

I am really looking forward to this weekend. With a terrific my favorite event at church (pot luck thanksgiving dinner and open mic talent show!) tomorrow, and

a b s o l u t e l y . n o t h i n g .

scheduled for Sunday, it sounds pretty much perfect. Before all that starts, though, there is grocery shopping, gas-filling (oh, that must be first on the agenda), flowers to buy and arrange (happy birthday, Andy!) and a sweet potato - cranberry dish to fix. Oh, yeah, and at some point I'll be making that veggie green chili.

Whew, I should go to bed.

And for that, I am truly thankful.

gratitude, day 6

Today I got my stitches out. It looks... well, not quite ready yet. One of the steri-strips has already fallen off, so it will be interesting to see what happens. After that, I went to the farmer's market and got some veggies for a recipe that's coming together in my head: a vegetarian green chili. It remains to be seen if that actually gets cooked, but I think I can mostly just throw all the ingredients in the crock pot and let it cook itself. I'd hate to kill all those beautiful veggies.

I came home and wrote for a couple of hours (something I started in May for the blog, but it never came out. Today it came out, but it's not exactly seasonal... so it's still under wraps. Then I got to talk to some friends on line, and then a friend on the phone. It was so lovely to just be home, with the beautiful autumn sunshine streaming in.

Once the sun was down, I took some leftovers (mmm, ricotta and spinach-stuffed shells - but I'd already had them five or six times this week) to Mom and Dad. I visited with Mom for a while. She had been working in the back yard all day long, and looked tired, but not done in. Dad was on his way to go to the pool for his water therapy, so we didn't visit much. I'm glad that they are home, and looking so good.

Dinnertime: It is no secret that I am a fan of Trader Joe's. A lot of their stuff is cheaper, better, more awesome or more original than your typical grocery. Oh, and deeeelicious.

Not every night is gourmet city around here, but I do enjoy a nice meal. Tonight I had one of my favorites: TJ's orange chicken over (TJ's) fresh spinach. While I was heating the sauce in the microwave, I sliced up some red bell peppers and green onions, and threw that in the bowl. When the chicken came out (20 minutes at 400º) it went into the bowl too. A quick toss, and poured it over that big bowl of spinach. It is was so yummy, and - well - not too unhealthy! Yum, yum and yum.

(please note that I am not known for my food photography! eek!)

And for all of these things, I am truly thankful!