My life has run away and left me behind with nothing to show for it but some grades, a few cd's and lack of sanity. Today is the first day that I have nothing to do except pray, breath in, breath out, pray and go back to bed. I am so behind in so many areas of my life it is hard to decipher what to do, if anything at all. I can hear someone in the back of my head saying, "Start what you need to start, work on what you need to work on, and finish what needs to be finished. This is divine order." So here I am starting my blog in hopes that one thing can be started. If nothing else. I have a few pics from the break:

This is in honor of the talented Mrs. Ripley:

http://craftycafe.wordpress.com/

She is the wife of a dear friend of mine from highschool who is more talented in crafts than anyone I have ever seen. I enjoy reading her blog on a regular basis and during a bit of brain fried-ness during finals, these two butterflies came out. They are made from cardstock, glitter pens and glue sticks. They are pinned on my wall of my craft room. Thanks for the inspiration Jess. My mind is less mush because of you.

Also, we had fun here on the farm working up a Christmas tree:

Before

After!

We had fun picking one out and putting up the decor. We bought our tree from Nacoochee Valley Farms this year which is a farm of Historic Hwy 17. They sell all kinds of things there like eggs, milk, fresh veggies and as it turns out Christmas Trees. It went to support the farmer's church ministry. Can't resist a good charitable reason to buy a tree. And so be it. Unfortunately, the top was too flimsey for our angel. She kept falling over, so we left her on top of the Clock where she sits year round.

Our Christmas was spent in a half and half mode: half at Mom's & half at BJ's. Unfortunately BJ was ill the whole time we were in WV, so Christmas was a bit yucky this year. There were lots of good presents this year. Some highlights were the cds: Claude Debussy, Cold Play and CCR. Can you say what?! Yeah, I got three different cd's all starting with C, all from three different eras of the 20th century...although Coldplay is the 21rst century, same difference.

Now we are home and I am a disaster zone inside. All the traveling, family, presents, lack of spirituality, holding on to my sanity with both hands and white knuckles. It is a lot. Today is about getting Rae back on track. Hopefully. I don't want to do too much for fear it will put me over the edge of doing. I feel like one of those snow globes that was shaken up and set down to look at: all the snow is everywhere, but the picture in the center is so pretty. Such a contrast. I am glad that I have a week before I go back to school. It will be a week of divinity.

Trying to get to the end of finals, will return after this breif intermission....

Matthew 25:14-30
The Talents: what will you do with the talent God has given you?

Sunday was a tough hand dealt to the priest. He was given Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18; Psalm 90:1-8; 1 Thessalonias 5:1-11 and Matthew 25: 14-30. All of them are not comfortable passages. And we are Episcopalians so uncomfortability is not where we like to be. We like to be liked. We like happy dealings in the Bible. So his cards read: Be silent before the LORD your GOD (GAWD), which is totally a shoutin methodist's card; We are afraid of your WRATHful indignation, way too baptist; Let us be sober and put on the breastplate of faith and love...doesn't really go with Whiskapalians; all that's left are the talents. It is such a strange passage that I have never really understood before and have even done it in the theatre and not really gotten it. Why would the master punish the slave for keeping his talent? I mean he was not supposed to lose it right?

Father Don put a spin on Matthew that changed my perception. The slave makes a statement: "so I was afraid." Powerful. Fear is so powerful. When God's angel comes to Mary, the first statement is "do not be afraid." Removing the fear clarified the message of the angel to Mary. Back to the servant with the talent, he is afraid. He interprets his master as harsh. No where else in the passage is the master described. His actions with the other two servants show generocity and gratitude, but this one fearful man finds his master as harsh. My priest points out that fear warps our perceptions. When our perception are affected by this fear, our actions become dangerous. We become dangerous to ourselves and to others. And when we act dangerously we begin to believe that we are worthless. Father Don points out that We are not worthless. When we are baptized, we are marked as Christ's own forever and are forever worthy. Doubt is not the opposite of faith, it is faith not yet. Fear is the flipside of Faith.

This is something that I struggle with on a daily basis is my perception. Generally speaking when I see a situation, my initial perception is through the glass bottom of a bottle. Have you ever looked out of the bottom of a bottle? It is a little weird. Not quite right. My perception is never initially quite right. I have to double think when I think. By that I mean that I have an initial thought and then I have to think the right thought: i.e. situation: dog dies, my thought, hmmm....good reason to have a bourbon, right thought: not so much, a drink won't help anything. That is an extreme example. These days it is more like this: my girlfriend dumped me, first thought: evil woman, right thought: gotta pray for her. My perception can harm myself and/or others. I don't know that everyone has to think twice, but I know I do. When I think twice, my talent multiplies and my Master is happy. If I stay in faith it carries me through my warped perception to the other side where fear is removed, faith is ever present and I am always worthy of His love.

Fall has come. It is surrounding my house morning, noon and night. There are heavy dews, falling leaves and winds that make me wonder if this old house I live in will blow over like a pile of sticks. I can't go outside without a sweatshirt and a long pair of pants. My hair is starting to get that winter static that comes with cotton sweaters over my head that there is no way to completely get rid of it until the t-shirts return. My husband who prefers no shirt and no shoes for as long as he can, has given into his jeans, berks and fleece pullovers. The mountains are painted in rustics of reds, yellows, oranges. I left my windows down the other day at sweetwater only to find my seats covered in a patch of leaves. Coffee warms my toes. The feilds are full of lettuce, kale, pumpkins and squashes and sweet peppers. The empty cornstalks are being cleared and fresh dirt is being tilled to prepare for next season. The sun leaves early and night falls just when I feel like it is time for a run. The cows and dogs nestle into the earth as the sun sets to soak in her warmth. The down comforter is out and covers my bed every night. Fall has come.

There is something so uplifting when someone tells you they want to spend time with you.

I have been on cloud nine today because a girl that is a part of a group of girls who I eat lunch with was so excited to see me today. She was so excited that on Monday, for the Fit Camp *exercise class* that I got to, she and four other chicas would be there with me: there would be a total of 6 of us. Us? She put me in the Us category. Who would guess that I would be a part of Us?

Then in the mail, I recieved a letter from the Vice President of Academic Affairs at the college stating that I had been nominated by a faculty member to be in "Who's Who" of the college. ME? Are you sure you don't mean Carter? I mean me? I am not really a Who, I am more of a Grinch on any given day....

Then there is there is that feeling that comes with being included, with being nominated for anything. It makes me happy. It makes me want to be the person that they seem to think I am even more than I already am. It makes me want to be confident, but not overbearing. It makes me want to make good grades. It makes me want to answer questions in class. It makes me want to be the first done with the quiz in class today and know when I am done that I maybe missed something on it, but not enough to matter (I missed 1/2 a point, btw). It makes me want to build a study group for finals. It makes me want to go to the gym or run. It make me want to be Me.

Do you know how long it has been since I have even remotely wanted to be Me? I have wanted to be many people, but never myself. It wasn't so long ago that I started to like parts of me. I like that I blog, scrapbook, play scramble with my Mom & Dad, paint my toes when I want to and I strive daily to be the person God wants me to be. But there are still those things...those things that mmmm...are not so pretty or good or right yet. For some reason, someone saying they want to hang out with me and not just part of me, but all of me, makes me want to be Me even more.

Happy All Saints Day

I would love to say I want to be a Saint, but every Saint I have heard of has gone through something rather painful in order to be qualified as a Saint, and I am suddenly not so interested.

A girlfriend of mine blogged on her faith. I have been mulling over some of mine for about a week now. I was taught as a young person to know what is real and what is fake. Gandalf is fake. Christ is real. Hobbits live in Hobbiton, which is nowhere I can find on planet earth, thus fake. Jerusalem is over there, near a sea in Israel which as I understand it has a great military and fights hard for its boundaries, thusly true. Halloween, is fun, but not real. Christmas is about the birth of Christ, and we celebrate by giving gifts. Not sure about Santa...but he is in the spirit of giving and love for others so what the heck a little false (as long as I know it is false) never hurt anyone.

In the past several years, I have been given great opportunity to repent from my sins, have great faith in God and tell others about Christ. I hang out with a lot of people who have little to no faith in anything. These folks start out with "higher powers" that include, but are not limited to door knobs; pet dragons that sit on their shoulders and are made by beanie babies; a not sure, but know it's not human, HP; Mother Earth; Father Time; Buddha; Christ; Mohamed and yes, even the devil himself. Strangely, the devil worshipper got drunk and killed by the police...mmm, think that is a clue. Don't trust devil?

I chose someone to guide me in my relationship with Christ as it was obvious she had a relationship with Christ. It never occurred to me that GOD would mean good orderly direction or any other nonsense, God was God is God, right?

Lately, that guide dumped me because she needed to take care of herself and pursue her own dreams and blah, blah, blah...

Ever since, I have been trying to make sense of what is real and what is false under her guidance. I have decided that words like "Power" and "Energy" are fake. I have looked everywhere to find out what "own your own Power" means. The reason I can only find it in one place is because the author is making things up to sell books. FAKE!!!!

Also, "you're sending out bad energy" has got to be something left over from the 60's. I can't find that anywhere. Maybe it is in the same location as my aura. In other words: FAKE.

Both of these are old mentor sayings. I am going to stick to other sayings that have basis, like One Day at a Time, from Matthew. Or "Faith without Works is dead" from James. They seem to be real to me and it has been suggested not to throw out everything she taught me. So not everything goes, but somethings, trash....

My parents taught me a long time ago that Halloween was silly fun. Energy and Power are now officially silly but not all that fun.

Oatmeal Cookies

There is a new fad theory going around that I first saw in Matrix: God is a black woman baking cookies. Now that has shown up in a book that is "all the rage." Now, I don't know that God has color, humanity or knows how to bake, but I do know that cookies make life better.

I have had lots of painful changes in relationships lately. My feelings have blown my hair back and my eyes are tired of cryin. I really needed some time to feel good. Something that had nothing to do with going to school or church. I needed something good with someone I loved.

Last night, my husband and I spent time with each other and no one else. We are slowly creeping up on our second anniversary and there seems to be a soft spot forming in both of our hearts. Last night we thought about driving to another city that had a nice restaurant, spend $60 on a dinner and drive back. Instead, we got all dressed up, went to IGA and bought steaks. My husband makes a mean rib-eye and was willing to make the steaks, which is good seeing as my ability to cook steaks is limited. We were having such a good time. As he was cooking the steaks, I started making cookies: oatmeal raisin cookies.

I have never made oatmeal raisin cookies before and I don't know that you can buy a mix for them. They are kind of from scratch kinda cookies. As I got everything mixed, it was time to eat. We ate dinner and went back to the cookies. John had so much fun reading his psych book while waiting on the end product. I was on the phone with a pigeon. It was so good. Baking cookies, spending time with John, helping someone else. It felt like, it was good. It felt like home.

What a great thing cookies are. What a great memory was created by baking them. What a wonderful taste to have as you put them in your mouth hot, fresh from the oven. I know why people want God to bake cookies, it is because it feels so good.

Relationships change. The world changes. The only thing constant is change.

Bleh.

I have the spins from so much change. If you've ever had the spins, then you know what I mean. It is a place where you are so sick that you really need to throw up, but you can't throw up. It is when you have drank so much you can't stand up and want to pass out, but when you lay on the bed, the spins set in and you have to stand up. So there is only one thing to do...force yourself to throw up or take one more shot to pass out.

Since I am not drunk. The spins are not real. It is just how I feel if I sit still for a moment instead of doing something like cooking or cleaning or going to school or sleeping. My emotions are totally whacked out. I had a very important relationship "change" this weekend. Mostly I think that is horse shit. I think I got dumped. It's like being "laid off" instead of being fired: either way you are out of a job. I got dumped by my mentor. She has been in my life prominently for the last eight years. She is the one who taught me how to be sober and how to be a God seeker. She has taught me how to pay bills, clean my house, go to work, be a wife. And now she wants to "change" our relationship. She wants to "just be friends." Just be friends? Is that not the line when people break up with each other? It's like "I need my space." WHAT is that? Horseshit, it is what it is: horseshit.

Spins...I've got the spins.

I am hurt and confused, fearful and angry. I am happy because I have found a new mentor who is awesome. I am down right excited and can't not stop thinking how cool my life is going to be with her guidance. I am ready to cry in an instant given good enough opportunity. Yet, if I cry anymore than I already have, I may not have any tears left for whatever comes next!

What's worse, is I can't help wondering if what my former mentor taught me is totally worthless? Maybe it means nothing? Maybe it wasn't really her teaching me, and what was hers that she taught was just the same as she left me: horseshit? My head says no, what she taught me is valid and worthy; my life is exponentially better because of her God given words. But my heart tells me she is full of it.

I have the spins and what does my husband tell me? Put your foot down. You stop spinning.

Ugh. I wish.

My farm dog has gotten a dead calf...

yes, that is a part of a calf's skull...

ah, life on the farm!

There is nothing like helping someone else to get out of myself. I am in the middle of an accounting test right now. I had the first half in class and the second half is take home. I finished a paper last night and turned it in at 11 pm via email. Only thing is that my prof is supposed to get one email from the group (it was a paper for a group). She got two. Turns out the crazy in my group got a little crazy and sent an email too. So, I ended up staying awake until 1 pm knowing that it was done wrong. Wondering what my prof was going to think about two emails or which one she would grade. This is the end of my week. The begining started with a test in Fraud. So...needless to say, I have been in my head lately.

Today, I got to do flowers for the church. It was great. I also got to talk to someone about learning to take care of themselves. It is not easy being so open and honest with another person. Not to mention when the talkin is about the hard stuph. I have never had someone come to me before who was so willing to change. She is trying to do what anyone and everyone is telling her to live a better life. Here is she is asking me for specifics on the better life. Me? Giving advice on how to live a better life. Amazing.

As we began to talk about prayer and meditation, service and unity, seeking God...the flower arrangements came to life. Once the arrangements were done, so was our conversation. Strangely as we parted ways, I realized not once had I pondered my academics or other people's behavior or just outright nonsense. Me helping her helped God to help me. Now I am back in a place where grades don't really matter, other people's behavior is none of my business and I am hanging out with my friends at Gertie Mae's just being me. I am in my favorite hat, with my favorite friend in my favorite place. Only thing for icing on the cake is a little bit of Sweetwater on my way home.

Nothing like working with others.

I like her because she smiles at me and always says hello.

I am not someone who is...fuzzy. There are those people who no matter where they are and who they are with, everybody likes them and are very attractive people. They smile a lot. They don't cast opinions. They have a host of friends, some true, some distant. But everyone likes them. I am not one of those people.

Generally, I am intimidating. I know of people who are honestly afraid of me. I am overbearing. I am SOSOSOO opinionated. I am egotistic with some support to be. I really believe that if you so choose to piss me off, I will eat you. Eat you whole.

Women find this harsh and usually after dealing with me, eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's icecream to make the pain go away. Men, just stay away, because I am married. I really only have two male friends, one of which is a political rival and the other a spiritual giant. Then there is my best male friend and I married him so I guess he is more eerrrrr than me.

I do have some good traits, but you have to get through the mess to get to the good stuph and getting there can be more painful for you than you are willing to experience. NOW. This being said...confessed.

A flip side to my abrasiveness is that I am without a doubt social. I go to the parties. I go to the dinners. I am the one with the address list for any event. Flutterbug, that's me. The way that I stay out of trouble is by not staying social too long with one group of people. Only the few, far and inbetween get real time (ie Megan, Sherry, Debbie, just to name a few).

I don't know how this cocktail of a person (that would be me) was concocted, but my guess is Irony, was the key ingrediant.

What I am trying to say is that vulnerability is not my strong suit.

Lately, I got very vunerable with a new woman in my life. With that vunerability came expectations. Expectations, in case you don't know, are premeditated resentments. And my resentment has lasted for months....yes, months. I expect for someone to know that when I am being vunerable with them, they are to honor, treasure, care about that. And in return, they are to be my friend. I have never really tried it that way before, but my understanding is that this is the way it is done. (As opposed to the swimming through the painful mess to get to me.)

I am still hurt today. At least once a day, I feel the hurt. It is a screwed up sense of rejection. I am hurt because a friendship has not been returned despite my honesty and openess. What's worse was that in the process of trying to learn about this new woman she managed to smack me emotionally and verbally as well. I am totally open to continuing the relationship after we worked that out, but she is just...she left. And she doesn't smile at me or say hello any more. I have tons of women in my life who fill my life with love, joy, sadness, smiles, laughter...friendship. And I am hurt, still because she left.

I have huge fears too of her using my vunerability against me. My head tells me it would have been easier to be mean to her. My hurt is not so great today as it was before I confessed my sins before God and another human being, but about once a day...when I am not looking...a sucker punch of anger, fear and old fashioned little girl hurt feelings. Now it only lasts a few minutes as opposed to hours. I am sure that if I continue to pray to God for her Health, Happiness and Prosperity and to relieve my fear, that it will go away completely except the times someone brings it up. And one day, it will be something I can use to help someone else through the same thing. I mean if the experience isn't so that I can help someone else, what's the point, right?

I just wish...she hadn't treated me like a friend for the moments that we tried to be friends, if she was going to go away. It is a painful thing. Worse than with someone physically leaving, because I see her every once in a while. At least if she physically left, I wouldn't have to see her anymore. That would be nice. It would speed this process up. Maybe I should have given this entry the header: Please excuse our mess, growth in process.

Today's Lesson in Cooking: Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookies From Crisco, per Vicki D.

Needed ingredients:

3/4 cup (3/4 stick) Crisco Shortening
1 1/4 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
2 Tbs milk
1 Tbs vanilla

1 egg
1 3/4 cups flour
1 tsp salt
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup coarsely chopped pecans (optional)*

Heat oven to 375. Place sheets of foil on counter top for cooling cookies.

Combine Crisco, brown sugar, milk and vanilla in large bowl. Beat at med speed of electric mixer until well blended. Beat egg into creamed mixture. Combine flour, salt and baking soda. Mix into creamed mix just until blended. Stir in chocolate chips and pecans.

Drop rounded tbs of dough 3'' apart onto un-greased baking sheet. Bake on baking sheet at 375 for 8-10 min for chewy cookies, 11-13 for crisp. DO NOT OVER BAKE. Cool 2 min on baking sheet, remove cookies to foil to cool completely. Makes 3 dzn.

This smells unbelievable in case your curious.

In the city, where I was raised, if you wanted cookies, you bought cookies. If you just HAD to bake cookies, you bought a package of pre-made cookie dough, prepped the oven and dropped them on a pan. Poof, cookies. The excess was stored in the fridge for those midnight sneaked spoonfuls in response to a break-up with a boyfriend. There has never been any such thing as "homemade" cookies for me.

Now, I live in the country:
Since moving here, I have been told that there is life without Crisco. Where ever it says Crisco, you can use butter, I've been told. Now I was raised on Crisco in cases of baking. Not butter. Somehow, in my mixed up head, I have associated Crisco with city: butter with country. Well, I live in the country now, any questions ask the cows outside of my window.

So for this "needs improvement" episode, I didn't quite follow the directions: I used butter because I'm in the country. Yes, that really is my reasoning.

I also decided after several scrapings of pans, to lightly grease the cookie sheet. AND I used dark brown sugar, because that is what I had.

It felt good. I used a wooden spoon and sprinkled the flour in little by little. I mixed and could feeeeeelllll the Luvvvv. That's my favorite part of homemade.

I dropped the cookie dough on the pan at 375 for 8-10 minutes only to pull out.....not cookies. The dough is cooked, but they looked like splats of cookies instead of cookies. Splats are wide messes that look a bit like pancakes, but with that cookie-esk-ness. I scoop the mess off the sheet into a bowl. (Which by the way, scooped onto a plate, about the size a cookie might be, with a small scoop of ice cream is great!)

Hmmm...must be the non-Crisco. So I add the Crisco to the rest of the batch. The batch changes color to something I recognize as the cookie dough from the cans! Woohoo. I'm in business. I drop the cookie dough on the pan at 375 for 8-10 minutes....

Splat. AHA!! I still have he grease on the pan, it must be making the dough run all over the place. So I clean the pan thoroughly, drop the dough and go. 8-10 minutes later.....

Splat.

I don't know what Crisco's got that butter doesn't, but I'm guessing it is a special ingrediant called: anti-splatter batter.

Cooking with Rachel K

On today's menu, we have Vicki D's Brunswick Stew. Below are the ingrediants you will need to make the ultimate stew.

1 can cream corn
1 can whole corn
2 cans stewed tomatoes (original recipe)
1 small bottle of ketchup
1 large white meat chunk chicken
2 cans Castelberry's BBQ pork in BBQ sauce
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 lb. ground beef
1 onion

Brown gr bf in skillet w/onion chopped. Combine everything in large pot. Cook on low/med for a few hours until bubbly.

In my world, I have always recieved an "N" from my elementary school teachers in "follows instructions." "N" is for needs improvement. SO with that thought in mind, we enter my kitchen.

Upon shopping for the goods yesterday, I could not find Castleberry's BBQ Pork so instead I bought...something else. I realized that maybe it did not have BBQ sauce in the pulled pork, so I bought some Sweet Baby Ray's bbq sauce ( the best bbq sauce in the universe). Today, I browned the beef and onion, but realized that I was probably supposed to drain it prior to dumping it in the pot. Oh, also I don't have a pot that big except the crock pot so...it's in the crock pot. I don' know if this is right either, but oh well. I also bought a can of tomato sauce instead of ketchup. I also forgot to get the chicken. I realized this when I was dumping the ingrediants in the pot. I turned the pot on Low. Finally, I added a hour on the fb in combo of a telephone call to my cousin Jenny. I think this is an especially important part because it is the luv in my culinary art.


So today in the kitchen of Rachel K we have Brunswick Stew per Vicki D...sortof.

The Culprit

A European Hornet, aka a "Japanese Hornet"

My normal unstung hand.

My not so normal, fevered hand

48 Hours after being stung in the ring finger

+ two Benedrils doses

+four Zertec doses

+ one Steroid Shot

In case you are curious, this is my hand looking better than it did originally.

Sometimes reality is more interesting that happily ever after.

I need to say first that I love Bernadette Peters. She is a tremendous actress.

How is it that people get in there head that life is supposed to be ever after? Do their parents just not tell them that ever after only makes for good movies when you are a kid? Do they not know that the life is worth more than ever after?

One of the reasons that I love Into the Woods, is the second act. How funny is it that once Cinderella, finds her fella, only to find out that he is dull, without wit, lives in a big lonely castle with nothing to do except chase princesses? Hurray, she got the guy with the house and the sisters are permanently punished, but really, what is that worth? Why is that happily ever after?

I don't know that I have ever had ever after. Maybe there was some of that before I was pubic, but I don't really remember much of it so who knows. I remember the creamery on the dairy farm with the real homemade ice cream. That is about it. Then I was 13. It was all over but the crying. Especially for the folks.

My friend who is very...not good right now, has a perception that I did it. I got the ever after. I found God, again. (Turns out he wasn't lost and so not so hard to find.) I don't drink, smoke or meddle in others affairs. I learned how to pay my bills. I learned how to get a good job. I learned how to take care of me. Now, I married a great man. I am in school for a great job. From the outside looking in: everafter.

She got her heartbroken by a scumbag of a boyfriend, so she thinks I have everything. The reality is that I work very, very hard. The reality is that it takes lots of effort on my part not to lose it on a daily basis. When I am juggling all the balls of life in the air, inevitably, I drop one. I have to search around and pick it up. I have to work to realign with God's will and in the meanwhile, continue juggling with one hand. She thinks ever after is Cinderella, dressed in yella. She thinks I am Cinderella.

I am not.

Neither is she.

We are not supposed to be. Cinderella is a story. A childhood tale with no purpose. I don't think Cinderella ever worked for what she got. I have busted my butt for what I have. I had to learn how to pray and juggle.

I like juggling. Praying is easier than juggling, so sometimes I take it for granted. I hope my friend hasn't given up praying, because I think Meredith Grey is right: reality is better than everafter. There are joys and sadness and intimacies with God. I get to love and hurt and learn to forgive. Gosh that is a hard one. I am working on that right now: forgiving. Gosh that is hard. It is not everafter.

I can't imagine doing the things I do with out a daily walk with Christ.

Maybe she just thinks she is alone. No one is alone. Even when I think I am alone, and making terrible mistakes...We are not alone, no one is alone. Maybe I need to let her know that she is not alone. Let her know that it is going to be okay. She is going through this terrible heartache so that she can help someone else to know that they are not alone: give her an opportunity to pass it on.

God's reality is not everafter, it is so much better.

When you don't blog for a while, you have bits and pieces of blogs left in your head:

Money is tight, yet, I am not afraid...relieved on economic insecurities. Being broke just ain't so scary anymore.

Flowers make the world go round. There is something to a blue hydrangeas, pink roses and random garden flowers. There is something to making something pretty for someone else. It fills you up and then lets you go...

Sleepy Sundays are awesome. But studying is important until you start sneezing...and sneezing...and achoo...this is Carter's fault.

I love that my car gets 37 miles to the gallon right now. I also love drivin around in it with my husband.

Ever have someone look you in the eye and say, "I want what you have, can ya tell me how to get it?" It will almost take your breath out of you. What's even weirder is how much alike you are after a few conversations. Matched up for God.

I am not really sick, I just think I am. Snort. Sniff. Sneeze.

Student loans are stupid. Don't they know that we have never borrowed money succesfully? Why do they make it so...my nose is running, hang on...painful? I mean, if you need one form of id why do you wait to process to ask for two forms? What takes so long to recieve and file a fax under my name? Why not be up front about everything that is needed and why would it last forever? and ever? and ...

I am eating chicken noodle soup for the first time in my life. I have never eaten chicken noodle soup. I am not a real soup fan, but a friend suggested it. Said it was kind of like having gingerale when you are sick...just tastes different. So I am eating chicken noodle soup. I am so sick, this is all Carter's sickness. He gave it to me through twitter.

"But life is among [us] is more than attending [church] and visiting the sick...No one is too discredited or has sunk too low to be welcomed...Social distinctions, petty rivalries and jealousies--these are laughed out of countenance.  Being wrecked in the same vessel, being restored and united under one God, with hearts and minds attuned to the welfare of others, the things which matter so much to some people no longer signify much to them.  How could they?"  

Stacy: this keeps coming up for me!  Just like our conversation: we are not to be of this world, but to be separate from the world.  

I have hung out with a girlfriend today who just three short years ago would have nothing to do with me.  It has taken a long, treacherous path for us to be friends.  Somehow it just worked better that way.  Sometimes being in the Spirit means just that: treacherous.  Today, I know that I don't live in this world.  I participate in it.  I do what is asked of me, but only so that it may serve God.  Things like who is and who is not my friend, whether what I am wearing is name brand, or how much better (or worse) I can be than you, means nothing.  

I went to see a friend today.  She is dieing.  She has lung cancer and sirosis of the liver.  When she found out they gave her a week to live.  Thankfully, God is bigger than doctors.  She actually drove herself to my birthday party.  What a birthday present!  She out-did anything that anyone gave me.  She gave of herself.  Today, they brought in hospice.  She is much closer now than she was before now.  I went to see her because that is what I can give of myself back to her.  She was pretty out of it.  One of the things she asked for was her pastor, who has been reading scripture to her.  It is about the Spirit, not the body.  She showed that to me today.  

I mess up a lot.  I am without a doubt not perfect.  I am beginning to recognize, that is part of being in the will of God.  In order for me to participate in this walk with Him, I have to be different from Him.  It is what makes Him divine and me, human with desires of closeness to Divinity.  But just because I am different from Him, does not mean that I have to be opposite of Him.  I have a likeness of Him.  I don't know why I wanted to be opposite of Him for so long.  I am so grateful to recognize my Likeness.  It is kind of like being okay with the fact that I am going to grow up and be like my parents.  Turns out they are not so bad after all.  No one could have told me that.  I just had to experience it, just like I had to experience the grace of God to be okay with that too.  

Atonement is so fulfilling.  

The term is SOCCER mom not hockey mom.  

"true ambition is the deep desire to live usefully and walk humbly under the grace of God"

living usefully....walking humbly...kneel before the breath of God...

I pray every morning and every night.  I read a meditation with my bowl of cheerios.  I go to church on Sundays.  I wear my DOK cross to let other people know that Christ is my Lord and Savior and this is how Christians act.  But to know if I am living usefully?  walking humbly?  grace?  How do I know about grace?  

What I do have, is a desire to live that way.  Last year I wrote a piece for extra credit that said that I want to be an accountant as a direct result of my walk with God.  I really believe that I can be of use to God counting beans!  Who would ever think such a bland profession would allow me to be of service.  But now that I think about it, Matthew was a tax collector.  

That makes me think about the word disciple which is so close to discipline.  Shoo...discipline means so much: it means a study, means a correction of behavior, punishment (ooo, yeah, don't like that one), obedience (yep, not so fond of that either, instant rebellion at the spelling of the word).  

Usefulness through discipline, now that's something I can do.  I can pray everyday.  I can study my bible.  I can help others.  I can go to school and make good grades.  I can love my husband.  I can honor and cherish him until death do us part.  I can be a good sister.  I can be a good daughter.  I can be a good granddaughter.  I can be a good friend.  

I have run across a lot of people lately who I'd like to emulate in their faith.  I hope others can see in me what I see in these people.  They stand out to me.  They are not anyone person and their friends.  They are random Christians who have shown up lately, like my old friend from Smoke Rise, my cousins, a constant blogger buddy and former big sister from Agnes Scott, a random stranger at school who let me eat lunch at her table in the lobby and one of my wonder women who I graduated with, who I'd never peg, totally fulfilled in her walk with Christ.  The way they show themselves shows their humility, their usefullness, their joy.  

I have been given the Grace of God.  There is no question about that.  I honestly believe I got more than one dose of it.  I just hope that I can be of service with this gift.  

Yo tengo ganas.  (that's for kelley)

I have the desire.    

I was assaulted on Marta last night on the way home from the Braves game.  That's all I can think about since it happened.  I had a great time tagging up with my brother and having dinner at my favorite restaurant.  I got to watch my Mom's choir sing at Turner Stadium, what a privilege.  I got to go to a Braves game with my Dad and not have a single argument or even a cross word.  I got to see the Braves win a game.  I am pretty sure I have never seen the Braves win a game.  I got home in no time as a result of public transit and a jump up 400 with no one on it.  I used my brights on 400 because there was no one on it.  Yet, my strongest memory is a notion of violence that occurred when the game was over and getting onto Marta.  

There were lots of people trying to get home from the game.  We were squished into a bus like sardines.  It was not a long ride though, and the people were nice enough.  Then as we entered the train station, the security guards put pressure for everyone to get on the train.  Unfortunately, there were people that needed to get off the train first.  The doors open and close so quickly, if you are not paying attention you can miss your stop.  The crowd rushed the Marta train car.  Those inside came out with attitude and violence.  They pushed and hurt those crowding the door.  It was more than one man who slammed into several women.  The look on their face was of uncontrolled wrath.  I felt really bad for those women who were knocked around.  

As I got onto the train, the violent act rippled. 

One of the women who had gotten hurt was yelling at the top of her lungs, "I am so sorry that I am white and trying to use Marta.  The very idea that a white American would use Marta is too much.  I am so sorry, I am white."  

She was sitting with a young man who was totally embarrassed by her behavior.  She was throwing in the f-word every other word in the sentence.  There were so many people in the train car, including a three year old across the  aisle from her which she couldn't see due to people standing in her line of site and a young black man sitting in spitting distance of her just not saying a word.  This woman was obese, had pink and black hair, piercings and tattoos.  She wore her anger toward the world like an insulation blanket.  And was screaming over and over, "I know you want me to f-ing shut up, but I am just f-ing apologizing for being f-ing white, okay? I f-ing apologize." 

At one point she was shaking (white) people's hands apologizing to the ones she could reach.  

She was assaulting my ears.  The violence rippled.  

I became thoroughly aggravated by this woman.  At one point made a rude comment to my brother who just looked at me.  So now the actions of one violent person (shoving) led to another action (violent language, loudly) to me passing it to my brother (rude comment).  Violence, begats violence, begats more violence.  

On my way home, I thought of something that might have stopped that woman in her tracks.  Although, I don't know that I could say it with enough sincerity at the time, for her not to throttle me for misinterpretation of sarcasm.  If I could say it with all due sincerity and humility, I would say: 

There is enough love in this area of the train car for me to tell you, that we are sorry you feel hurt by the men who violated you.  We know what it is like to be hurt.  We know what it is like to experience violence and racism.  It is a powerful abuse to another human being.  We are here today to let you know that we hear your pain, we acknowledge you pain and that we are going to love you back to a place of a healed wound.  We will love you until you can love yourself.  Believe me when I say, you never have to apologize for who you are.  You are a beautiful, I know you won't believe it, but you are a beautiful child of God and are worthy of His love.  Those of us standing around you see, feel, hear your hurt and are going to extend our love to you.  

God, please cradle this woman in your arms that she may find your love and can find it within herself to love herself.  

The ripples of violence stop with me.  The ripples of violence stop through love. 

Have you told someone you love them today?

There is something strange about watching someone else grow. I know many of my friends have the opportunity to watch their children try new things and "oh how cute" stuph that happens. It is different when it happens to an adult. It is not "oh so cute." Mostly, it is really messy and a bit frightening because of the expectations surrounding being an adult. Folks expect someone who is an adult to act like an adult, as though there is an instruction manual on how to handle all situation life throws at you. Children can throw their peas on the floor and get away with it. I wish I could throw peas on the floor and get away with it. I bet even Mikey won't eat peas.

I am very careful to say, "when I grow up," for people to understand that I should never, under any circumstances be taken seriously. I have a friend who keeps a teddy bear on his desk at work so people will know, it is a sign: immature person at this desk, please handle with care. I might do that when I get a work desk. I have teddys on my bed just to remind my husband, and, at times, me.

I have been watching my husband over the past several days. He applied to an on-line college and within 10 days, is writing his first college essay. It has to be 1000 words and use the methods of composition which he is being taught. Can you say he is FREAKING OUT?! So messy. He gets this look in his eyes and walks from the computer to the kitchen and back again. Then he does it again. If the phone rings, he almost comes unglued. The very idea of answering trips his train of thought. So when my husband turned into the exorcist last night, I was so glad he was married to me and not somebody with rejection issues. He is so growin. It is so cool.

Going to college for me is like brushing my teeth: do it or suffer.

When I first went to college it was because Mom and Dad said go to college. It took everything they had to make me fill out the applications and then the decision: oh the decision....ASC or UGA? Ack. So glad I got that one right. When I went to college, I wasn't really interested in anything. I majored in booze, boys and bars...and GT football. Other than that, I studied because it was something to do once in a while. My Dad cried at my graduation. I don't know if it was out of pride or out of surprise. I didn't know what folks were making a fuss about. I mean, come on, I have been going to school since I was five! Like I couldn't do it? Of course I could, can't you? (*I am so arrogant sometimes*)

When I went back to college for the second degree, outside of being certifiable, I fit like one of those perfect hands and gloves. Grades are easier when there is no booze, boys or bars. Also, I have a, a ganas that wasn't there last time, that helps.

My husband, on the other hand, has never really been given a fair shake. He was raised in a house where they sent him to his room to study and he couldn't read. He has dyslexia. No one knew. Then out of no where, his Mom sent him to a graduate study on kids who don't quite get it in school. They taught him how to read, speed read, read upside down and backwards. Can you say way cool? By the time he got out of high school, he found uncle sam. There was some one in his head saying you can't, so he didn't and into the military he went, then marriage, kids and never any college.

Now he is 50. FIFTY! and going to college. Can you say, God works miracles?

For him it is not like those hands and gloves, for him it is like a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He can't figure out what he wants to see or smell or touch or eat first. I don't know what God whispered in the ear of my husband that changed that voice of "you can't" to "go for it." No matter, he is in the thick of it now.

I sit back and watch this funny man I love fall into the world of the academe, all that comes to mind is: ain't life grand?

After being away at my family's house for the holiday weekend, I found that coming home meant something different.

I used to think that coming home meant ending up in my parents house after swim practice/violin lessons with my brother in his room or watching tv and I in mine or under Mama's feet. We were perhaps working on homework or playing with a toy; preparing dinner or practicing an instrument. Dad might not be home yet, or it might be his day off and he is coming in with the groceries ready to have help to put them away. Around four thirty or five o'clock maybe as late as six, the pink radio box on top of the dryer in the kitchen would sound off to NPR's All Things Considered: da, da, da, da, da, da, da-de-da.

Today home means something different. It means moths around the lamps. It means happy dogs grateful you are home because the old dog died and they don't know what to think. It means having my husband there to greet me. It means a quilt on the bed and no air conditioning. It means fresh tomatoes off a neighbor's farm and flowers to the friends down the street whose daughter finally passed from cancer. It means washing dishes by hand, listening to the katydids sing. It means remembering to turn the lights off to keep the power down and the heat away in the summer. It means wondering why yet another calf is pinned in the barn hollerin for its mama and giving a new chair to the farmer who watches his cows under the big tree that shades the back of the house and then some, while the trough fills with water. It's about no noise. It's about peace and quiet. It's about rising and falling with the sun. It's about listening to the chimes on the grandmother clock. It's about planning a trip to town. It's about friends who are family. It's about lovin and losin and livin and lovin some more.

My home today is about life on a farm.

I ran the the 5k. Never done it before. Yeah...it is three miles. I finished in under 45 minutes. This is to say, less than 15 minute miles. I actually ran the first mile at 12:25, second mile at 26:54 (this is a personal best for my two miles) and finished at 43:05. Woohoo! I finished!

I have been trying to learn how to cook. All this time John and I have been married, I would make a dinner here or there, but usually it was the same dinner as last time or not very different from the last time. My dinners consist of chicken and noodles with sauce. There is always a salad and a fruit dessert, but the entree is always the same. Through trudging communication with my new husband, I have Finally heard that he likes to have dinner at home, especially now that he works at a camp where dinner consists of hotdogs or peanutbutter sandwiches. Now here is the problem: you can only eat chicken, noodles and sauce so many times in a row.

My first dinner for him was chicken alfredo. Pretty good change from the red sauce to a white sauce. Different flavor. Then I went for chicken, plain noodles and cheese. Yeah, now I am bored with the chicken. So I reach into the bowels of the freezer to find a roast. I pulled out my crockpot that Aunt Melody gave me a hundred years ago that only ever gets used for Christmas wassail and put stuph in with the pot roast. Yeah, we ended up having left overs that night. The potroast as it turns out was...old. It was two years old. Please, do not try this at home. Luckily, I have a kind mother who sent me a recipe to follow for the next time around that will allow me the ability to have a tasty meat treat for my hubby sweet. Thanks Mom.

I am determined to find things that are different on a regular basis so as to add to the health and well being of our meals and our relationship. On Sunday, I made homemade applesauce. While this is not a meal in itsself unless you are 90, it wore out all my cooking muscles for dinner. So there was no exercising the dinner prospects. In the process of cooking the fresh apples from the Orchard, yes, I live in the country and there really is an apple orchard, I had to go to get two sweet apples because the Orchard apples are mostly cooking apples with not a whole lot of taste which meant another trip to the grocer. Whilst there, I was able to conjure up more ingrediants for tonight's experiment: lasagna. I haven't made this since I was drunk, however, I have a really good recipe and I am good at following directions as long as you have my attention.

We shall see how it works. I am throwing this out to the culinary artists in my life: please send me (via email) recipes of something other than chicken to feed my husband dinner. For example, what are beef tips for? How do you make a moroccan dish? How do you cook bbq ribs without a grill?

I have a 1958 cook book from BetterHomes, but as it turns out, the food in that book is REALLY from 1958. Nothankyou, but the book is cool to look at. What is your favorite dish and how do you make it in a regular everyday kitchen?

CYBER CULINARY PEOPLE: help . . .






ps the applesauce that i made is AWESome.

I have always had a hard time maintaining relationships. I am great at making new friends or staying friends with someone because they go to school with me, work with me, church with me or live with me. I am horrible at the afterwards. For example, when I graduated highschool, people just disappeared out of my life. I have heard that people came back from college and on the holidays got together with old friends, but I never did that. I never had that. College, same thing. I graduated, they were gone: poof, like smoke.

The same thing was true for my relationship with God too. When I was no longer "required" to go to church, I didn't go. And just like that: poof, like smoke, God was gone from my life.

I found God again. It took getting honest, finding courage, having integrity and discipline, all and all I perservered and have an awareness of God that gives me the ability of service to God and to my fellows. It has been a long road of growth for me, but as a result, I have a relationship with God.

That Relationship has given me the ability to have relationships with my parents, my brother, my friends that stuck around long enough for me to stray and return and a few new folks along the way.

The reason I mention all of this is that I started back to school this week. Instead of the newness that comes with the freshman feel, I had a sophomore experience. I knew people already and don't have to go through the rigamarole of social dysfunction. I am hoping that, because I have a relationship with God, that maybe I can keep some of these college friends this time around...God willing!

I am having a hard time keeping my spirits up about weight. I don't know why I poop out after trying something for just a little while, but I do. I decided it is because I have a good forgetter. This means that I forget how well I have done before and give up too easily. My head says, "this is really hard and I am no good at it," and poof, I quit. And poof, low self esteem! Amazing how well a forgetter works! I just up an forget the effort already invested.

What's worse is that as I quit things, the quitting compounds as does the low self esteem. It gets to a point where I finally never get started on something--and Oh Well! I am on a track to no self esteem or negative self esteem. In awareness of the repetitive downward spiral, self-destructive behavior, I finally came up with a solution.

I believe in spiritual tools. One of my spiritual tools is taking inventory. This means finding out what I do and don't have; finding out what does and doesn't work. One example is that I used to have a vicious tongue that could cut open a tin can it was so sharp. Today, while I never miss an opportunity to keep my mouth shut, I recognize that I have the ability to prophesy, that is to say the right thing at the right time with an uncanny truthfulness about the statement that perhaps the person in conversation with me was unaware of the truth. Through taking self inventory, I found out using my mouth to hurt people doesn't work. Telling the truth without hurting people does work. The inventory tells me what defect of character that needs to be thrown out. I ask God for help with the defect: many, many times, he turns it into an asset. It took years, btw, to turn that one around. God's time, not Rae's time.

Today's defect: I am trying to turn this physically unfitness around with God's help, which likewise will take years just like everything else. My part is to keep a daily inventory so I can see progress or slackness, honestly. One of the other things I struggle with along with physical unfitness is housecleaning. There is no doubt in my mind that they are indelibly linked somehow, so I am using the same tool for that one too: inventory. Normally, I use a diary or journal or something on the computer, but this time those weren't working. The funny thing about my inventory this time as opposed to other times is that I keep it (thank you Mom) as though I am a little girl.

One of the things that I remember from being a kid is a chart on the refrigerator with stars. If we did every chore or a certain amount of chores, we received $1 allowance in that week. Carter had his list and I mine. My chores were loading/unloading the dishwasher, setting the table, cleaning my bathroom, emptying trash around the house and picking up pine cones so Dad could mow the grass (eventually I mowed the grass, and then Carter and I went back to pick up). It seems like Carter and I traded off on feeding Fluffy the ridiculously finicky dog. Taking note from my Mom, I realized it would be an excellent inventory tool for me today, so that is what I have done.

I made a chart with all my chores including practicing piano and running. I use smiley faces as I could not find stars (weird). The smiley faces are good, they make me smile. I am able to see two things with this tool: 1) that I have actually done a task x-amount of times and 2) when it is time to do it the next week if it is a weekly thing (i.e. dusting, cleaning the bathroom, etc). It is reassuring. I ran three times last week. I have run once this week and have done weights once this week. Success!

The most important thing this inventory brings me is the eraser for the forgetter. No more thinking this is hard and I can't when I have proof that I can and did. To boot, there is a smiley face cheering me on from the front of my refrigerator. God-bye forgettor, hello smiley face!

Quick status update (for Sarah and others). Last week I ran two miles for three days out of seven. My high time was 28:45 and my low time was 25:36. I wasn't able to get through the full two mile without stopping. I felt pretty inadequate about it because I have never not been able to do something. Even when I up and started running cross country for school, I could run the full two miles right off the bat. So I went to one of my favorite cross country runners, Grace. She is Sherry's 14 year old daughter who is an athlete of monumental proportions. She said that it took her about a week before she could run the full two miles. This was even after being at soccer and basketball camps during the summer and some outside basketball conditioning. She is tall and thin and has about five percent body fat, maybe six during the summer. She says don't worry about walking. She did say that try to run even if the run is slower than it would be if you walked. She said it conditions your body correctly. Okay, I say.

So today, I ran again. I ran the first mile at 12:38 with no walking and ran until about the half mile mark on the second mile. That is where the "wiltshire" hill starts straight up for about a quarter of a mile. It is very painful--literally. I got a stitch in my side that almost made me stop, but Grace told me how to work that out too so I kept going. I had a slow time today, but I ran further than I've ever run so far. I figure if it takes a gal who is in shape a week to run a full two miles, it will probably take me a month. That is my goal. In a month, two miles, no stopping.

I haven't been to a general practicioner since I was in college the first time. This means no physical, and in my mind, nothing wrong with me. I went in to the regular doctor to get a referral to an allergist as my allergies have become overwhelming. Thanks to the wiles of insurance, that is the necessary order to get to the allergist. I wish I could have just gone to the allergist, but whatever. When I went to the regular doctor, she insisted that I have a physical. This included being weighed, measured and worst, stuck (ow) for blood to be "tested."

Now, I am four doctor visits later and went from taking one pill prior to going in, to five pills and a nasal spray steroid. Turns out that I have severe allergies to dust, dust mites and hickory and pecan tree pollens. The severity is in the dust mites. So I get to take two pills and a spray for that. My regular doctor found out I had acid reflux (thanks to Dad's side of the family) and high cholesterol (thanks to Mom's side of the family). So now I have two more pills. One once a day, one twice a day. Yes, I have two wierd dysfunctions that normally don't happen until people are members of AARP.

The diagnosis that trips me out the most is the high cholesterol. Turns out that a high LDL count can lead to arteriosclerosis, which my grandaddy had, aka hardening of the arteries. So now I am eating a double portion of oatmeal in the morning (on a daily basis to lower cholesterol), cheerios for lunch, snacks and dinner (takes three portions of cheerios, instead of two like oatmeal), fruits and vegetables and other sterol induced products and taking a one a day vitamin that has Niacin (B3) and rigorous exercise which includes weights 2-3 times a week, to get back to normal. Ideally, I would love to be tested again and startle my regular doctor by having normal levels of LDL. Yeah, I don't actually expect that to happen, but I am going to give it everything I've got. I don't know that it will work, but I am going to try.

Now here's the craziest part of all: every pill I take is a different shape. I have a trapezoid, a circle, a square, an oval, and a rectangle. Then there is the vitamin, but I don't know what shape it is. Super huge, is that a shape? I can take all five of the pills together in one swish of water, but I have to take a whole cup of water to get the one a day vitamin down. Stupid. I am never going to the doctor again.

Okay, maybe I am just not going to the doctor until my next appointment.

I made the best damn omlet of my life.

When I was drunk, I used to say that I made the best omlets. But when I got sober, not so much. Guess I had to be drunk to add to the flavor. Now, I am not a happy go lucky heart healthy food kinda gal. I didn't eat steak until I was 16. I didn't eat red sauce on my spaghetti until...I was in college? I didn't eat green leafy veggies (ie broccoli and dark lettuces) until last year. I am just, well, I am just persnickity. My idea of a good meal consists of a Caramel Macchiato, M&M's, McD's french fries and a prime rib from Outback with tigerdill. I would eat myself crazy on that meal. Unfortunately, that meal makes me fat. As it turns out when you get older, you lose muscle mass as a result of less activity, creating a lower metabolism, leading to fat and so the cycle of an old fat person begins. It starts at 30 btw. It's hard to say which came first, the low metabolism or the lessening activity. Either is possible.

Now that I am 32 and fat, I have decided to act on my inevitability of less muscle tone. I began on December 26 of last year trying to eat no sugar and no white flour. Mind you, I also have no alcohol, no cigarettes, no meddling in others affairs already so to add no sugar and no white flour was no easy task. But I did it. It was stupid. I lost fifteen pounds and every time my horomones kick in, I gain five. All this tells me is that in six months of no sugar and no white flour, I lost ten pounds. Stupid. Don't worry. I limited my caloric intake too. That is how I lost the extra ten and gain five every hormornal cycle. Stupid.

So I have given up on the no sugar diet and made a batch of brownies for some of John's very happy campers and LICKED THE BOWL. It was the best batch of brownies I've ever had. After my splurge, I realized that was not the healthiest approach to continue to loose weight. So I ran. I ran almost two mile. It took me about 25 minutes which means that I was running about a 15 minute mile. It was my compensation for the brownies. I have also added reading a book to my healthy stuph. So as of Monday, I read a part of the book and ran two miles. Then on Tuesday, I did it again. Although I realized that a 15 min mile is a little on the slow side (my Dad is laughing at me right now wondering if I was walking and yes admittly there were periods of a fast pace walk), I timed my first mile to see what I was really running. My first mile was 12 1/2 mins. The second was more. I made it a full two miles on Tuesday and was able to get back before 30 minutes. I will try again today.

Today is my third day on the book and the run plan and as a way to continue to add stuph to the plan, I thought I should try to eat as healthy as I could. I thought an omlet would be nice, but I don't make good omlets. I made one anyway. I figured worse comes to worse, I would give it to Mikey. Mikey likes anything. I made a perfect omlet. I don't know how that happened. Maybe it was the cast iron skillet or the real butter that I used to season the bottom of it, or the milk that I added to the eggs, or the eggs themselves being farm eggs. I don't know, but it encourages me to eat more healthy stuph. So now, the omlet is a part of the healthy plan this week: read the book, run, eat the best damn omlet ever.

I have had a lot of allergies in my life. When I was little: whole milk. I would drink whole milk and break out. Mom thought it might have been the froot loops: boy was I glad it was the milk. I mean really can you imagine being a kid without froot loops? Anyway, then when we moved to GA, I was being babysat by the McKinnises and they had a very large hill to roll down. My brother and I rolled down that hill a lot for one day. I came home with a rash. Carter, not so much. So now we know I am allergic to whole milk and grass. That was about it...

Carter on the other hand, would come home from school with migranes as a result of allergies. Ever seen a cute little boy with a migrane? vomitting on the bus? It is pretty sad. All because of allergies. Dad has allergies too. AND I can remember going with my Grandmother when I was little to the doctor because she had to have shots, her allergies were so bad.

Outside of the milk *which I grew out of* and the grass *which I never rolled down a hill again so..* I really have never faced any true full blown omg allergies. Then I became an adult.

Turns out that I am allergic to alcohol and cigarette smoke. Which for those of you who are new, I had a serious bout of intoxication for about six years and smoked for...nine almost ten years *two packs a day, preferably* Turns out my system can't really take either of them. Now that there is no alcohol or cigarettes, I found this nice man who graciously married me and we live on this farm. Now, I don't know what I am allergic to, but these are the possibilities:

hay, dogs, cows, grass, mold, mildew, random bush outside of window, magnolias, my husband, down pillows, old mattress, down comfortor, ants, bees, wasps, spiders, tide, smell good spray i got for bday...I could go on, but these are the ones that are so present they make me sneeze.

I have been taking good over the counter drugs. But like all otc drugs, I have built a tolerance to them. I went to the doc last week, she gave me samples of not so otc drugs until we found out what works. Yeah, not the samples. If I mix the samples with the otc things get better, but not either drug separately. Why am I blogging about my snottiness you wonder?

I am scheduled to see an allergist tomorrow. The allergist said no meds for three days prior to visit. In case you are wondering: my eyes are leaking, itching, burning; my head is splitting, my nose is sneezing. I WANT MY DRUGS.

Tomorrow we will know exactly what is ringing my bell. Until then, I whine.

So I was just lamenting to my friend Michelle, how everyone else I knew got to go to the beach this summer and I didn't. Waaaa....

Then, my husband was invited to the beach! So we are at the beach! Thank you God for listening to my whining!

Here are some shots so far:

This one is for proof that I am here. (My toenail polish matches my bathing suit!)

This beautiful creature flew in to say hello while we were on the beach yesterday.

Ah...The next Christmas card? Definite potential!

I have been told that in order to have self esteem, you must do esteemable acts. How hard it is to take action when the self esteem is so low it registers a negative number? I can tell you. It is pretty damn hard.

I went to the gym today. That is hard when you have negative self esteem. Everyone else around me was better than me. They worked harder. The looked better. They sweated more. I was...

Without.


I am not sure when my self image got so low. In high school, I was a crazy person. I was on a sports team (cross country, swimming or soccer depending on the quarter). I was in a lot of clubs. I was a part of a production (either at school or church or a private concert for violin or piano). I was a decent student: out of 6 classes I made A's and B's with one inevitable C by one point. I went to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings and evenings and sometimes even Fridays and Saturdays. I had a lot going on and was constantly on the go. I was crazy because even with all of those activities, I always felt like I didn't fit in. I had so many groups I interacted with and none of them was I apart of wholly. I didn't go to school with the youth in the church. I didn't go to the same piano or violin teacher as the kids in the performing arts. I loved the performing arts, but I played instruments, I didn't sing and dance. I was in dance classes but I was an athlete. Nothing fit. I don't know that I had a best girlfriend the entire time I was in high school. I was only ever asked out once in highschool and I never went out on a date. Too boot, I was a mean, arrogant, judgemental girl. I don't know that this made me have low self esteem, but it is the first time I am cognizant of having low self esteem. I don't know that when I was in highschool I was aware my esteem was low because I was still figuring out who I was. I never was worried about my body though. I never found low self esteem in my body image. Of course how can you when you dance for an hour and then after school do a sport for an hour? Two hours of working out everyday makes anyone sleek and wonderful.

I don't know how I got to negative self esteem, but I know that I have it. I know mentally that when I do things like go to the gym, it creates self esteem. So in that sense, I have more esteem than I did yesterday. If I could do that everyday: just do one esteemable act, perhaps I could recreate a ground zero. Maybe even go into the positive numbers of low self esteem. I don't know.

God grant me the strength and courage.

I have so many letters to write today. I have three blogs to finish, two thank you letters, two belated birthday cards and two real omg letters to two people who are patiently waiting...

I have so many pieces to play today. I have a Bach Invention to polish, two sontinas I am working on and two real omg hymns to learn of two hymns who have been patiently waiting my whole life to be learned and played...

I have so many rooms to clean. I have a bathroom that has put up with three people this week instead of two. I have a kitchen that has a trash filled from not just me while John was at work and two real omg sinks full of dishes desperate to be washed, waiting patiently...

I have so many movies to watch. I have one that was ordered last week and is still not watched and may never make it into the dvd player before being returned to netflix which is like omg, rae didn't watch a movie? Meanwhile the others that know it is their turn out of the library of good movies scream to be played...

I have so many groceries to buy...

I have so many flowers to arrange...

I have so many friends to say hello to ...

I have so many phone calls to make to catch up on life...

I have so many dogs to love...

I have so many, so many, so many things to do.

Gonna rise up

Find my direction magnetically

Gonna rise up

Throw down my ace in the hole



I live on this farm in these mountains, but once in a while a get-a-way is necessary. Then the trek to the rents and back again, just a little away, not too far away, comes to be. After a bit of time in the more southern part of the state yet not considered south because it is not as far as Macon; after a little bit of love from Mom, fetching with the Patches and singing from Dad, I start on the back again part of the trek. As I ride to music (eddie vedder preferably), I find myself moved in different directions. It is traveling music that allows me to appreciate my drive and its surroundings.


As I came around that curve, you know, the curve where the ATL skyline bursts through for the first time and no matter how much traffic you are surrounded by, it just strikes you. It strikes you every time. Stunning. To me, if feels like I am seeing home again. It makes my heart gasp. Coincidentally, traffic slows right at that point as well, which is good so I can soak it all in. The architecture of the buildings, the crazy billboards, the signs marking familiar places I know so well. The cityscape weaves through overpasses and sudden shifts in the traffic that makes me pay attention to the road. Then as I move over left to go northeast instead of west and then back to the right again allowing me access to the road that stops short getting me home, I pay a toll of fifty cents only to find my company includes vehicles that live in this nostalgic place: mercedes, lexus, bmw...beautiful cars for a beautiful city.

As I wait in line to pay my $.50, I wonder, what would it be like to live here again? Would I be employed instead of in school? Would I be successful? Would I have dogs? Who would my friends be? Would I be married? Would I be sober? It's my turn to pay: "thank you."

The farther north I ride, the less expensive the cars are: they go from sports cars to mom busses to work trucks to farm trucks. The farther north I ride, the smaller the buildings get. The building of last resort is where the road says that it is ending and on the other side of the stop light it gets a new name which makes it local instead of stately; is a home depot that built its self into the side of a mountain and fought long and hard for a too tall sign and lost. Then the buildings are but farm houses and barns. The pastures stretch and the architect of this landscape is not human. There are trees taller and older than most anyone who lives in the farm houses. There are tucked away bbq smoke houses. There are fruit stands with fresh produces parked at the main road that carries me to my farm, there at the last stop light.

The next twenty miles are all God's country. There are stopsigns instead of stoplights. The "traffic" consists of a man on his tractor carrying a round bale to another part of his farm and had to surface on the two lane road to get there. Despite the double yellow line, there is time and ability to pass him, but not without a wave and a smile. The roads begin to curve. They go up and down and all around. Soon, there is no way to go over 20 miles an hour to get through the dead man's curve and I am almost home. Turning right at the winery, I can see the workers tending to the vines. Last turn...

My whole body begins to relax, knowing it is within walking distance to the farm. But as a reminder as to why I call my farm home, coming around a curve, the sky opens up to a magnificent mountain picturesque scene and I know. I know that I would never be the person I am today. I know that no matter how enticing the city can be, I would never have met the man of my dreams; I would never have these dogs; I would never be in school; I would never have my best friend I have; I would never have stayed sober but rather fought a losing fight.

I would never be me in that city. I know, that I am, I am right where I am supposed to be. I am finished with the trek back again. I am home.

Why is feminism percieved as something bad?



From Websters:
Main Entry: fem·i·nism
Pronunciation: \ˈfe-mə-ˌni-zəm\
Function: noun
Date: 1895
1 : the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes

2 : organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests
— fem·i·nist \-nist\ noun or adjective
— fem·i·nis·tic \ˌfe-mə-ˈnis-tik\ adjective



Why wouldn't I want to be treated equally in all aspects of my life or have someone argue on my behalf to be treated equally? My rights and interests: wouldn't that include things like work, play, home, faith, relationships with others including my husband, children and future children, parents, siblings, friends: why wouldn't I want something like this in my life? Why is it considered bad? Why wouldn't I be considered a lady for desiring equality?

Can you tell I've been trolling on your site Vicki?

I found a link to LAF. It seems like this great site for conservative women, yet I find fallacy in its name. It is not that the site is about "Ladies Against Feminism." I read the starter as suggested and the who we are section and I have to disagree with the name of the site. In reality it is all about women who are feminists to the nth degree. I was so proud to see women being women on that site. What the site really is, is Conservative Feminism. Liberals don't write the book on feminism, although they do cause a lot of ruckus ever since that bra burning incident in the 60's which will never be forgotten. In order to be a feminist just means you are to be female and have rights and interests. There is no question that LAF has interests and rights. I don't agree with half of them, but I respect that someone stands up and states a position even if I don't agree with it. It is the fundamental of freedom of speech. A fundamental that as an American woman, I have the right to practice and so does LAF, supported by her site. I think she is the epitome of feminism and her campaign against liberal feminism almost proves the point of feminism, which is in some wild way ironic and ridiculous, which takes the power out of her persuasion from her soap box on which she stands.

I would much more be attracted to her site if she stood for honesty which is that she is not against feminism so much as is a conservative feminist and that is just okay to be.

Ever have reality hit you in the chest so hard it makes you gasp? Had that happen to me the other day when I realized that my step son wasn't just staying for the weekend, rather moved into my little farm house. That is not so easy to sneak into, but he was stealthy about it and commandeered his Dad in order to make it happen. One thing is for sure: I am totally a new wife. When I was asked if my step son could come and stay, I said sure. NEW WIFE. Old wife would have said "for how long?" or "can we talk about this?" or "I need to think about it." New wife says, "sure" and two days later says, "wait what did I say yes to? oh, no....".

Just when I think this whole wife stuph is old hat, they sneak a new one in on me.

When that "no smoking" sign goes off it makes a ding and you'll know everything is going to be alright.

Okay, where's the ding? Where's the ding?

It's comin....I promise its coming, just wait for it.

Okay....














Ding.

daisies are the friendliest flowers

Today at the healing service, which I highly suggest to anyone who just needs to feel loved, the homily was on God's presence with us. Our priest is so poetic in her oration: "To be in God's presence is to let ourselves be swept away with the Divine Tide." Isn't that the truth of the matter? If I just let go, God always, always, always, takes ahold and things go smoothly. Then the Bible study just after that with the DOK was on Romans. Romans is a hard book, especially when taken in chunks. The versus we read were from Chapter 8, 1-11.

I like verse 2: For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.

and I like verse 9, the first part: However, you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you.

I have worked very hard in this life of mine to become happy, joyous and free. Lately, I have noticed that there is a lot of prejudice in many of the people I learn from towards my faith. not My faith, but my Faith. They don't hold any prejudice towards me. It has been a burden to listen to those who ride the tide of spiritual kindergarten only to find that they can only teach me the ABC's. I have had a thirst for more. I started asking around in those circles of women if there was any interest in studying the Gospels with me and found only one yes. I told God to show me women who want to study the Gospels, or the Bible or something more than the ABC's. I need more! Today, happily, I landed square in the middle of women who are full of wisdom and knowledge of the Bible and my Faith.

These versus we stumbled into and around in Romans made me realize that through my Faith, I am free. It also reminded me that while I associate with those who are in spiritual kindergarten, I am not isolated. I am not alone. The Spirit dwells within me. I am truly a spiritual being having a human experience. I am not alone. That prejudice and antagonism seems to fall by the wayside when I shift my perception to embrace my Faith. All men of courage have Faith. I just have to have the courage to carry that Faith, to seek that Spirit that dwells within me when faced with those who carry the prejudice and adversity. Although, I do not rebuke my ABC's. Without them, there is no possibility to have the Faith that I have today. I just will put them at the beginning of this Spiritual Experience.

And so it begins...



The cows are going to slaughter. Actually, just the calfs go. This seems so aweful if you are a pet lover, but these cows are not pets, they are car payments. So Albert took 8 youngins off to market this morning. This means nothin to him, he lives on the other farm. Me, however, it means a lot to because I live here where the babies were taken from. My husband is to work so he is laughing that I am stuck on the farm. Why is it such a big deal? The mothers cry for their young for three days. They don't cry like boo hoo. They cry like moo moo. It is how they call their young when they are too far away from the heard or time to eat or lost. So they will look and cry for three days...and nights. They will break away from the heard and go looking for the youngins so that they are all discombobulated. They roam all over the place crying for their young...and all night. Sometimes they get stuck right outside my window...all night. Luckily, I can scare em off if it gets too much, but still, it is loud and it is painful. And it is three days of mooing...and three nights.

Lack of Power is my Dilemma...

this is the underlying factor for many things in psychology including alcoholism/addiction, borderline personality, codependency, and anxiety disorder. i hear over and over that alcohol is but a symptom, the underlying crux is control. people who have panic attacks have stress induced attacks brought on by a percieved lack of control aka fear. while there is medication to treat panic attacks, therapy is better...irrational fear is percieved, not real. then there is real fear: omg i might die, a black bear is chasing me. although... if the bear is not there, heavy psychotic meds will be administered at once, but that has nothing to do with power, that is more on the side of crazy...ha

so today, this afternoon, a gun shot rang out at our farm. my husband was outside watering the dogs when he hit the ground. i came running outside to see if he was okay only to find him perturbed that someone was discharging a weapon on the farm and we didn't know about it. he drove out into the pasture to look for someone near the stump dump because that was the direction the sound came from. i went back into the house...to find the entire house was without power. the percieved fear of a gunshot was really a transformer on the property and one unhappy bird. talk about powerlessness...

people say that medication can treat irrationality, but in reality, faith is the only truth that works for fear...my husband was not afraid to go out into the pasture looking for someone holding a weapon, despite the underlying fear that if someone was out there he could have been shot. that faith brought out the truth that a person was not the culprit of the racket, just an unsuspecting animal. my husband was not afraid. this is new because ten years ago he was.

lately i have had some strange dreams, violent, drunken dreams. i have had a hard time understanding what was going on. i finally realized that eight years ago, about this time, i was so heavily intoxicated, i can't remember days. not like hey, i can't remember what i did last night, but hey i can't remember what i have done since i got on a plane in orlando and flew back into atl on the fourth of july and now it is the tenth of july and i don't remember anything in between. strangley, i went to work, i went to the bar with friends, and i probably came home, maybe. those are just guesses. i think the reasons for my dreams are due to the powerlessness i was experiencing eight years ago both over alcohol and in the figurative language of "boom, boom out go the lights" when i drank. i was anesticizing myself in order to not have fear. i had no control and in order to become empowered, i had to come to believe in a power greater than me.

i still have a lot of fear today, but not the irrational fear i once had. i have a lot more faith today. one thing is for sure, i remain powerless.

I threw my first party last night. Not as in first party ever. My first party ever was a back to school party when I was sixteen. But it was my first party as a Mrs and at the farm. Now, just like then, not everyone came who I wanted to come, showed and then there were those who didn't stay long enough. Strangely, this seems to be the way it goes with parties. People who say they will show up don't and people who say they can't make, miraculously do! It was a fun evening setting expectations aside. Cleaning the house all day wasn't all that fun. I was almost so tired by the time the party started that I was willing to say so sorry, we cancelled it. But I didn't thankfully. We grilled out burgers and had pot luck sides. The house was lovely and the evening perfect. Everyone brought citrenella which SO really helped, and as a result, we are fully stocked for another hang-out-get-together. We bought tiki torches from the dollar store for more than a dollar but cheaper than the home depot tiki torch that was more than a dollar. So between the tiki's, the candles and the bug juice, we were bug free.

I got some nice shots while there was still light. They are my friends:

This is DonnaRae.

She wins the award for best t-shirt ever.

She also has a great name becasue it includes the name RAE. This is her husband, Lee, who is the first person I've met that used the word "schlep" correctly in a sentence. They are yanks via Florida who moved to North Georgia as a result of a work transfer. They are such city folks. It is cool that they showed up when they did because we had another set of friends who were yanks via Florida who left to return to Florida about the same time. It was an good, even trade.

This is Gena and Bella or Bella-bug as I call her. In our family there are Kellybug and Jennybug so Bella Bug just happens into my language. Gena is a long-time, dearly loved friend who had this perfect child about two years ago. In this pic Bella is playing in the dog's water bowl while ringing the chimes hanging over it. It was her very own game of splash and ring. She was a hoot the whole night. During the fireworks she kept saying "More Mama! More!" In case you are curious, yes she is always dressed this cute.

This is one of mine and John's oldest and dearest friends, Nicki. Nicki is the only one out of my friends who can not just make my brother smile, but make Carter burst into outright, full throated laughter. Nicki is always full of jokes and smiles. And last night, not to outdo himself, he made my day. He brought fireworks last night. When I think of someone bringing fireworks, I think of blackcats or sparklers or a roman candle or two. Oh NO. Not Nicki. We had fireworks like the kind at the end of a Braves game or at Stone Mountain or at the lake in Avondale. It was UNbelivable. They were cannons that scared the heck out of my pups and lit up the sky. It was UNreal. He must have brought $100 worth or fireworks. They were so cool that people offered to help him pay for them when it was all said and done. I couldn't believe that we had real fireworks at the farm. Who'd of guessed I'd throw a real Fourth of July party? One thing is for sure: thanks to Nicki, more people will show up next year.