Friday Flipbook: Week 3

Sunset Splendor

This week in pictures...

Just One Bite

There is a Malayan proverb that says

"If you have, give; if you lack, seek."

In the most dumbed down fashion, I applied this proverb to my life when I saw Mr. A buttering a beautifully toasted-in-all-the-right-places bagel.

"Can I have a bite?" I asked as I surveyed the bread land for the most buttery bit as to make that bite count.

"Sure, babe, go ahead." He turns back from putting the butter away to see my one bite path of destruction. He is amused & not in any way surprised. He knows that I suffer from the illness of 'not realizing how hungry I am'.

Here's to finding the person who 'gets you'! 

To surrounding yourself with people who love you  for your quirks, not in spite of them!

What's Black & White & Gone In 60 Seconds?

"A good cook is like a sorceress who dispenses happiness." 

–Elsa Schiaparelli 

I finished reading Alone In The Kitchen With An Eggplant in the wee hours of last night this morning. How could I not? I have a thirst for the written word coupled with a body that doesn't show signs of tiring until around 7AM. Piece of cake!


In these collected memoirs about dining alone, one author proclaimed, “11PM is the best time to cook by oneself.” I felt a warm & fuzzy kinship with this person as I often have the urge to bake once the clock strikes midnight! Perhaps it’s the Cinderella in me tasked with making a pie from my carriage-turned-pumpkin? Perhaps it’s an effort to start the next day off on a sweet note? These are life’s little puzzles.

(Deep down, I know it’s because baking calms me. The price of two bags of flour & two pounds of butter per month sure beats the cost of therapy. If anything else, who doesn’t revel in the act of licking a batter-laden spatula long after the ‘respectable’ dessert hour has come & gone?) 

In the wee hours of last night, I broke the Midnight Chain Of Command. I was too engrossed in finishing one book & delving into another (One Day) to be busied in the kitchen. However, earlier in the week there were no books standing between these cookies & me!


WARNING: I’m telling you this from experience, do not make these at midnight. If you do, 3 AM will roll around & you'll still be wired from the four chocolaty cookies too many that you happily, merrily consumed.

A Growing History

Five Minute Friday

In case you missed it last week, I'm linking up to The Gypsy Mama for the weekly visceral assignment of writing for five unadulterated minutes on the given prompt.

This week's word: GROWING
Five minutes on the clock...

GO!

Last year my mom fulfilled her dream. Actually, our dream. She bought her first house. But not just any house. She bought a one hundred year old house in a small New England town. You could have pinched us because it all felt like a dream.

We moved into the house with the red door last November & began to leave our fingerprints in its history. We are only the fourth family that has walked its halls.

I love that this house has a heartbeat. It has a growth chart if you will. Instead of measuring its advancing years with notches on the side of a door frame, its growth is tallied by all the footsteps on the weathered wooden floors, all the conversations spoken within its walls, all the trips up & down the staircase, all the flowers that bloom in their own good time every season, all the leaves that crunch under our boots as we toss a Frisbee to Rocky in the backyard, all the smells that permeate from the kitchen into the nooks & crannies of its frame.

My mom’s house will never stop growing. It will always be maturing; becoming ever more golden (& achy at the joints) with age. To the neighbors in that small town, after all these decades it’s still referred to as the old Wilson house. To me, it’s home. Though I've moved away, the red door is always open for me.

DONE!

In last week's Five Minute Friday, I referred to Sara (AKA Gitzen Girl). After running a beautiful race in this life, she is now dancing pain free in paradise. This post is dedicated to her memory.

I speak of home as a place to which you can always return. In reading some of Sara's older posts, I stumbled across one where she dreamt of her father shortly after he passed away.
 I ask you to invite her spirit into your day by reading "Homesick".
I smiled with joy at the thought of Sara's return; not only to her home but to her father's embrace.

Friday Flipbook: Week 2

Autumn's Arrival

(I'm thinking of making 'Friday Flipbook' a weekly post. What do you think?)

This week in pictures...

Day Is Done, Gone The Sun

"Day is done, gone the sun

From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky

All is well, safely rest

God is nigh.

Fading light dims the sight

And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright

From afar, drawing near

Falls the night.

Thanks and praise for our days

Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky

As we go, this we know

God is nigh."

-Original Lyrical Accompaniment to Taps

Taps is sounded nightly (in the military) to indicate ‘lights out’. We used to sing it at Camp Wewa, a sleep away camp I attended as a kid, before heading off to bed. Ah, the memories of summer camp! Once our glow sticks faded we impatiently waited for the morning sun.

Before the sun rises tomorrow, we’ll have bid adieu to summer. After waiting in the wings, autumn will finally be gracing the stage & we’ll be more than eager to take our seats. But before summer’s curtain call, I’d like to take a moment & relive the memories that will stick with me through the coming season…(in random order)

I was grateful for…
The sight of Mr. A holding my hand (pulse-ox monitor & all) as it hung over the side of my hospital bed in the emergency room. (I spent that night being poked & scanned, only to be dangerously misdiagnosed.) The faith & strength Mr. A gives me is immeasurable.

After seeing five doctors, the relief of finding a doctor (& his staff) who not only listened but knew what was wrong with me within five minutes! Turns out, I had the worst case of Mono he’d seen in his career. (Not encouraging on the medicinal front that five doctors missed my textbook symptoms.)

A Spot Of Wisdom

"You are unrepeatable. 

There is a magic about you that is all your own." 

- D.M. Dellinger

Be confident. Be content. Leave the stripes business to someone else!

On another note, it's Mr. A's mom's birthday today! Everybody say 'Happy Birthday, Barbara!'

Happy Birthday, Barbara! (<< That was me.)


(Tip: You can achieve this by writing on a banana with a toothpick. It will show up after a bit.)

Choose Joy

Five Minute Friday.

Don't worry, I realize that it's not Friday. I'm referring to a weekly free writing assignment conducted by Lisa Jo at The Gypsy Mama. Hundreds of bloggers join together & spend five minutes writing what comes to mind on the given prompt. Editing & over thinking are not welcome. Fast typing skills are helpful. (I need to work on that part.)


This week's topic is celebrating Sara at Gitzen Girl as her journey in life is ending yet at the same time just beginning.


THE PROMPT: JOY

Five minutes on the clock. Go!


Last week I wept for a woman that I’ve never met. I’ve only heard her voice through her blog. I found out that she is dying.


I wept out of selfishness that the world was losing this radiant light, and out of sadness that her journey was coming to an end.


I wept out of joy. Her pain would soon be gone. I rejoiced in the thought of a rebirth.


In life, this occurs in many forms. Things end before new things can begin. There is mourning & celebrating to be done. You do not have to die to experience a rebirth. You can be reborn through a decision to change. An attitude, a situation, a relationship, a passion, a compulsion. You can choose whatever path you see fit. You can choose joy. In whatever form. The choice is yours alone.


Done!


I leave you with an excerpt from Sara's post on the topic of attitude:

"But with the way my life has played out there came a point in time when I made a conscious decision that I wanted to choose happy. I wanted to choose gratitude. I wanted to choose joy. I wanted to spread that around as much as I could."

Scooter Showdown

Unrelated Showdown Photograph
(Dante & Rocky)

Prepare for a collision.


I'm in the supermarket on a faulty motorized scooter.


Alright, it was only faulty when you compared it to every other scooter I've driven. It worked but it had a glitch. It moved forward about an eighth the speed at which it went backward. Throughout my grocery journey, I occasionally lost my bearings & forget which direction the scooter moved at the speed of light during. Therefore, it can be deduced that I accidentally collided with a few items…


Item 1) The cart of bananas being unloaded by the produce guy standing behind it. To clarify, I didn’t injure the man. The plastic side of my basket merely got caught on the corner of the cart & caused it to change direction quickly. No harm, no foul, no bruised bananas.

L'Eggo My Eggo(nini)

Before

Growing up in South Florida, there was a hotel right on the beach that served a brunch buffet on the top floor. As a kid, 'brunch' meant a plateful of pancakes & bacon with a beach view. Although, now that I'm older brunch translates to one word: mimosa (ideally with a beach view).

Last month while reading through a mostly uninformative magazine, I spotted this new food trend: waffleninis (paninis made with waffles). Now THIS sounded like breakfast & lunch in one bite! Since we picked up some regular waffles last week (while also buying Mini Eggos for nostalgia's sake) we were set to make this satisfying sammich! Do you say sandwich, sammie or sammich?

Friday Flipbook: Week 1

Lifeguard Tower

This week in pictures...

In The Pocket Of My Blue Jeans

In 2005, I was watching a scene in the movie, A Lot Like Love, where two people meet while browsing a music store. I was captivated by the hum of music playing in the store. Luckily, there were just enough audible words for me to research it. That is how Ray LaMontagne came into my life.

Ray played a show tonight in my & Mr. A's old stomping grounds (Phoenix). It’s déjà vu since we saw him there this same month last year. In the front row of the balcony, we were in a prime position to catch the hypnotic rhythms that came floating out of the dark.

Uncomfortable with the spotlight, Ray performs in dim lighting perhaps in hopes of fading into the music. He doesn’t interact with the audience much, not out of snobbery but out of awkwardness. It’s as if he would prefer to melt into the scenery than be showcased. I’m sorry to disappoint him but with his voice, he will never blend.


At an early age, Ray shunned musical activity because of his musician father’s violent ways. But in his twenties, the force within him could not be quelled. In the early morning hours before his shift at a shoe factory in Maine, he heard ‘Treetop Flyer’ on the radio & it spoke to him. He couldn’t deny the music any longer.

Of all the artists that you aren’t listening to & should be, Ray tops my list of suggestions. He is a raspy voice in a lanky body with roots in a past life. His soul is palpable through song. To listen is to discover nerves you never knew existed. He is not a “packaged” performer of the mainstream, but a pure artist from a bygone era.

If you’d ask me to sum up his music in one sentence, I would simply tell you this: 

He has a voice that will keep you warm in winter.

Brown Bag or Lunch Box?

At the grocery store, I rounded the corner in their motorized scooter (because I’ve been getting winded easily from the Mono) while Mr. A lingered on the previous aisle. As I was browsing I thought, “I just know he’s eyeing that value pack of Kraft Mac & Cheese.” Mind you, I’m not against this as Mac & Cheese in any form will be on my ‘last meal’ list. I’ll happily pull a Kevin McAllister & have a candlelit dinner in the name of macaroni & cheese (whether I’m home alone or not).


Sure enough, he rounded the corner with that, tried & true, orange & blue box! I had to smile as he proudly exclaimed, “There’s a coupon for free Capri Suns on this!” He's excited about cheesy pasta & coupons..A man after my own heart! Off we ran/drove to marvel at the colorful lay of the juice land. Nostalgia came over us as we both pointed to the Capri Suns’ Pacific Cooler flavor & said, “I remember taking that one to school!” We grabbed a box of it & continued reminiscing about the treats of our schooldays…

I Don't See It

What Do You See?*

While browsing through abandoned games at our neighborhood thrift store, we stumbled across a game called “Ink Blotz”. Looking reminiscent of Hermann Rorschach’s famous inkblot test, we couldn’t resist giving it a closer look.


I was immediately intrigued by the subject matter alone, as I’ve been thinking for a while now that ink blots would make a wonderful art installation. What an interpretative display that would be! It would be a chance to celebrate the individuality of perception.


Upon curious inspection as to how this would be a game, Mr. A proclaimed that ‘Rorschach may have just rolled over in his grave.’ It was paradoxical that his psychological test to measure qualities of personality had been turned into a competition. Mr. A & I weren’t fans of that idea but we were smitten with 100 potential pieces of art being 50¢. SOLD!

Septimus

In Latin, septimus means “seventh”. Did you know that until 153 BC, September was the seventh month in the Roman calendar? Neither did I! Then March was upstaged when January replaced it as the first month of the year.


I’ll go to bat for September regardless of where it falls on the calendar. You see, September is the prelude to my favorite time of year. It’s when I wash my hands of summer & rekindle my love affair with fall.

A Decade Later

I started this blog post answering the question that accompanies major events in our nation's history, "Where were you?" But even ten years later, talking about that Tuesday morning still tears my heart in half. Today, this is all that I can manage to say...

There is a void. I don't think it will ever go away. We can attempt to fill it with reverence & grace.

Our hearts are heavy but there is always light. Look for it.

A Chairless Table

Meet our matter of fact fridge. It’s very excited to tell passerby that we have somewhere to sit! Here’s the back story.

When I left Maine, I thought it better to fit my entire life into my car rather than brave renting a moving truck (maybe another time I’ll regale with our previous moving truck adventure). Thus, when my mom wielded her Tetris packing skills on my car, not everything made the cut. Bookshelves? Fit with just an inch to spare. Dining room table? Once disassembled, it fit like a glove. Dining room chairs? Not so much.

Upon arriving to South Carolina, my dining room table ousted Mr. A's folding table on account of looks. However, due to lack of options it adopted his folding chairs. It looked a little something like this…

Jump Ship?!

I don’t want you thinking that the captain has abandoned the ship! It has, in fact, been rough waters here this past week but I’m still at the helm. My apologies for wavering on my blog posting.

A couple things transpired this week that proved writing to be a bit difficult.

S.W.A.K.

Mail Call

My daily phone calls with my Mom always involve an anecdote about our dog’s personality. How could they not? Rocky is a terrier/pug/retriever mix which means, as far as dogs go, he’s on the A-Team. He’s got brains, he’s got face, he’s got spunk & he always has the last word. Today was a prime example. 

Let me rewind for a moment. On my 24th birthday last year, Rocky chose us. Our friend Katherine brought over some puppies to see how they’d handle our twenty pound Maine Coon, Macy Man, & vice versa. Not knowing the definition of fear, Rocky charged his nose right into Macy’s then plopped down & fell asleep. He had staked his claim. We were his family.

I was a bit undereducated in dog training so my mom took the reins on Rocky’s schooling. So, naturally, by the time I was leaving Maine to move in with Mr. A Rocky saw my mom as the alpha & me as a playmate. It didn’t seem right to take him from his leader. He is ever the protector always at her side.

Since then our chats always have the soundtrack of Rocky “talking” in the background as my mom recounts the day’s adventures. Come be a fly on the wall to today's sweetheart of a story...

Laughter Recess

In addition to our regular television diet of Big Bang Theory & Modern Family, Mr. A & I like to sample other snacks that the small screen serves up. The most recent show that we devoured was “The Next Food Network Star” where chefs from all walks of life compete for their own TV show. After winning, Jeff Mauro defended his comedic presence by animatedly proclaiming, with an edge of sentimentality, that “People need laughter. We’re in a recession.”

I couldn't agree more. When your feet are dragging as your stamina starts to dwindle, laughter can revitalize your day. I'm going to celebrate the contributions of the working folk (& the hope of the not yet working folk) on this Labor Day by attempting to spread some laughter.

Over the course of the weekend, I stumbled across these images. I guffawed. I chuckled. I giggled. Please enjoy.

An Ideal Dilemma

YES!

A day where your biggest choice is what to savor first. 

I love life’s whimsical moments of enlightenment. Open your Starburst roll, along with your eyes & see what the universe is telling you. If you make it a point to be mindful, you will be neck deep in all the blessings there are to be savored. Delight your heart with this multitude of riches. Try to apply this to your life today & always.

Have a red & pink Starburst kind of day!

It's Raining Love

As you may have noticed, I took the weekend off from blogging. I wanted to give my undivided attention to Mr. A as we celebrated our 18 month anniversary. (It almost felt like the 12 month anniversary that we missed while we spent six months long distance.)

From the Scrabble tournament on the living room floor to buying our first piece of furniture together, we intentionally lost track of time as we enjoyed being at each other's side.

Good thing we adopted this orphaned beach umbrella on Friday night because we were showered with love this weekend.

Square Peg Round Apple?

"He who argues for his limitations gets to keep them."

- Richard Bach