The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Thursday, January 31, 2013

here ... today

Not sure what the winds got up to yesterday ... some service was forecasting 100mph straight line gusts ...  some where around 75 blows the trees down when the ground has been pre-soaked as it was yesterday.  I was happy to have only one down.  Unfortunately it dinged the fence and landed in this little "bulb" bed ... fire wood.
The sky was so blue today and tonight we have a pretty good view of the stars.  Flew a bit this evening ->


photo of a "Texas" live oak, this one seems typical to me, though I've seen a few that are spectacularly large and graceful (on the UT campus in Austin), for the most part, they are scraunty.  This is why the trees over here are so impressive to me.  One like this usually comes with a longhorn or two, maybe a brahman ... .

For Revel ...

 This is almost complete.
Painted for my daughter per her request, I am looking for the quote to finish it.
(2'x4' acrylic)

Before I began painting I was sitting looking at the canvas and planning ... one of the prisms shone on the canvas.  I wish I could paint that!  So delightful!  Like a gift.

Notes from today's meanderings ...

Galileo Galilei (1564-1642)
Drawings of the Moon,
November-December 1609

“Scientists are slowly waking up to an inconvenient truth - the universe looks suspiciously like a fix. The issue concerns the very laws of nature themselves. For 40 years, physicists and cosmologists have been quietly collecting examples of all too convenient "coincidences" and special features in the underlying laws of the universe that seem to be necessary in order for life, and hence conscious beings, to exist. Change any one of them and the consequences would be lethal. Fred Hoyle, the distinguished cosmologist, once said it was as if "a super-intellect has monkeyed with physics".

To see the problem, imagine playing God with the cosmos. Before you is a designer machine that lets you tinker with the basics of physics. Twiddle this knob and you make all electrons a bit lighter, twiddle that one and you make gravity a bit stronger, and so on. It happens that you need to set thirtysomething knobs to fully describe the world about us. The crucial point is that some of those metaphorical knobs must be tuned very precisely, or the universe would be sterile.

Example: neutrons are just a tad heavier than protons. If it were the other way around, atoms couldn't exist, because all the protons in the universe would have decayed into neutrons shortly after the big bang. No protons, then no atomic nucleuses and no atoms. No atoms, no chemistry, no life. Like Baby Bear's porridge in the story of Goldilocks, the universe seems to be just right for life.” ~ Paul Davies

“The complexity of the simplest known type of cell is so great that it is impossible to accept that such an object could have been thrown together suddenly by some kind of freakish, vastly improbable, event. Such an occurrence would be indistinguishable from a miracle.” ~ Michael Denton, EVOLUTION: A Theory In Crisis

“The theory of phlogiston was an inversion of the true nature of combustion. Removing phlogiston was in reality adding oxygen, while adding phlogiston was actually removing oxygen. The theory was a total misrepresentation of reality. Phlogiston did not even exist, and yet its existence was firmly believed and the theory adhered to rigidly for nearly one hundred years throughout the eighteenth century. ... As experimentation continued the properties of phlogiston became more bizarre and contradictory. But instead of questioning the existence of this mysterious substance it was made to serve more comprehensive purposes. ... For the skeptic or indeed to anyone prepared to step out of the circle of Darwinian belief, it is not hard to find inversions of common sense in modern evolutionary thought which are strikingly reminiscent of the mental gymnastics of the phlogiston chemists or the medieval astronomers.

To the skeptic, the proposition that the genetic programmes of higher organisms, consisting of something close to a thousand million bits of information, equivalent to the sequence of letters in a small library of one thousand volumes, containing in encoded form countless thousands of intricate algorithms controlling, specifying and ordering the growth and development of billions and billions of cells into the form of a complex organism, were composed by a purely random process is simply an affront to reason. But to the Darwinist the idea is accepted without a ripple of doubt - the paradigm takes precedence!” 
~ Michael Denton, EVOLUTION: A Theory In Crisis

“It's a bizarre but wonderful feeling, 
to arrive dead center of a target you didn't even know you were aiming for.”

 ~ Lois McMaster  Bujold

friend ...

“But in Friendship, being free of all that, we think we have chosen our peers. In reality, a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another, posting to different regiments, the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting—any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of the Ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," can truly say to every group of Christian friends "You have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another." The Friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others. They are no greater than the beauties of a thousand other men; by Friendship God opens our eyes to them. They are, like all beauties, derived from Him, and then, in a good Friendship, increased by Him through the Friendship itself, so that it is His instrument for creating as well as for revealing.” 
― C.S. LewisThe Four Loves

today I am painting clouds for Two, while looking for "the" quote which I write on the back of the canvas ... I saw this and thought to save it here.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

coffee sugar detox ... unpleasant


  • Bad breath
  • Constipation
  • Achy, flu-like feeling
  • Fatigue
  • Headaches
  • Hunger
  • Irritability
  • Itchy skin
  • Nausea
  • Offensive body odor
  • Sleep difficulties
Today I started wondering if I had cancer ... maybe ... one of my friends found out she had cancer because of symptoms a lot like these ... and like me her achy pain was localized in the hip joints and lower back.  And ... coincidentally, a book, HEAVEN, by Randy Alcorn just showed up in the house.  One of my long distance buddies, a friend in South Africa, recommended it to me this past summer ... and believe it or not, it was a gift at the funeral (they called it a home coming party, but I still call it a funeral) of a long time older woman friend.  So ... the book came to me and I have been reading it.  And ... it's interesting.  The Bible has a lot to say about heaven but I don't know much about it at all.  I never believed it was a harp cloud type place, I think of it as a lot like here but with out all the conflict ... and I think God is there and we will see Him.
I'm liking learning a bit about Heaven and in a little way, that kinda creeps me out.  I like it because it makes the craziness of the world less important.  I like thinking about "next".  At the same time it's creepy because it is unknown.  Anyway ...
The other day I decided no sugar and no coffee for a week and I have done great at doing, or not doing that/those.  Mainly I like sugar in my coffee and really nice chocolate bars ... so quitting something didn't include knocking out major portions of my diet but wow ... I have felt really really bad.  Decided to look at detox info today and came across this ... bingo ... all but one or two with a couple not mentioned (cold hands and feet, yeah irritibility is on the list ... so not the usual me). I have been saving up my money for a doctor aided diet plan (Medi Weight Loss Program) and I want to have plenty set aside to accomplish my goal.  They have you cut out all sugar and coffee at first so I thought to get a little head start on that. From what I understand the first week is entirely proteins and the next week they add back fruits and vegetables.
I didn't know I was going to feel really yucky.  So, I just looked back, on Saturday after morning coffee I stopped with the coffee and sugar.  I should start feeling better soon.  This is Wednesday.
High wind advisories here today ... that's about it.
I am really surprising my self by feeling flu-y ... and cranky ... and achy.  I think when this week is up I will remain off the sugar because I don't want to feel like this again.  

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Open Boxes ~ Jeffrey T. Larson

Lake|Flato architecture ... PORCH HOUSE

And how these guy's came to my attention ... buddy girl commented on them awhile back, then brought to my attention that they have an article in this month's Southern Living magazine ... PORCH HOUSE ... very cool concept, beautifully executed (kinda like a perfect green line, genius is genius ... )

What they say:

 The factory built rooms are arranged on the site to take advantage of views, breeze, solar orientation, and outdoor spaces.  The custom designed site built "porch elements", such as breezeways, porches, overhangs, and carports are the "connecting tissue" which holds the rooms together while allowing the overall design to adapt to the unique characteristics of the site, the weather and the client's program.

Lake|Flato architecture (mas)


here, there, and ... wow, genius ... Lake|Flato architecture

 Sammy ... learning how to chill out in the house ... I appreciate the company.

Somebody is having lunch at Port A ... pic is a special treat received from buddy girl.

a treat for me 

Brown House, Scottsdale AZ.

Yee Residence, Carmel CA.
"Lake|Flato's architecture can serve as a lesson for us all: how a building stands to the sun, how it welcomes the cooling breeze, how it partners with plant materials.  Nothing sensational or exotic, no visual fireworks of fashion, just architecture that intrigues the mind, delights the soul, and refreshes the eye with its elegant detail and simplicity.  timeless architecture needn't shout ..." ~ William Turnbull, FAIA

Bluffview Residence, TX

Story Pool House, Center Point, TX

LC Ranch, Three Forks, MT
Cross Timbers Ranch
4 separate structures (corporate retreat)

Sunday, January 27, 2013


I like airplanes.  I like the actual airplane thing and I like that we have been able to figure out something as cool as getting ourselves up in the air.  I like that there are people who know the things that one must know to fly (or do anything which is a reach for mankind) ... I like the collaborative effort of "large" endeavors and I like that there are giants among us who have grown so as they have mastered something that mankind could only dream of in the not too distant past.  God, I love to fly, and I really appreciate what I have learned about myself, my soul self, as I have become a pilot.  It soothes me to reflect on those life lessons.  Flying ... what a great metaphor pool ... on either end or the middle.
Last night I decided to look at several cross country flights (on a flight tracker app) ... from the East coast all the way over to the West coast.  One crew flew a graceful, elegant sweeping green line (I compared it to the other flights made yesterday between the same two airports) ... there was one enroute altitude change, I can only guess it had something to do with some isolated storms.  I don't know what adjustments caused some of the other flights to "look" less perfect then the one ... I just know that I am blessed  when I see something done so obviously well.  I like that it's kinda an amazing feat, I like that I can appreciate it being executed so beautifully well.  Genius. Full moon ... musta been lovely up there arcing across the country.
When stuff feels so out of sorts it's really neat to see a perfect green line moving steadily across the country ... cause if just one thing is right, as right as that with all it involves, then, maybe there is still hope for us all.  So ... that's thankful
is about singing ... today ... today I sang like I did when I was little, before the scarred up knees/soul, before all the years of voice lessons/wall building ... just back in the sweetest part of my heart and ... I am thankful that that part of me still sings.

a sweet story ... Three Letters ~ Elizabeth Ungar

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant.

It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper That he got from a grocery bag Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume.. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left, she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling* her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for* believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist Hospital in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along. I love this story so very much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? tomorrow? Just "do it".

Random acts of kindness, I think they call it?

"Believe in Angels, then return the favor." ~THE END

I liked the story, I mean, who wouldn't?  Thought to look just a tiny bit in to the facts of it ... and soon found this urban legend info.

 Analysis: Heartwarming though it is, the tale of little Teddy Stoddard and his inspirational teacher, Mrs. Thompson, is a work of fiction. The original story, which first appeared in significantly different form in the magazine Home Life in 1976, was written by Elizabeth Silance Ballard (now Elizabeth Ungar) and called "Three Letters from Teddy." The main character's name was Teddy Stallard, not Teddy Stoddard.
In 2001, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette columnist Dennis Roddy interviewed the author, who expressed amazement at how often and how freely her short story has been adapted, rarely with proper credit. "I've had people use it in their books, except they made it as if it happened to them," she told Ruddy. Paul Harvey used it in a radio broadcast. Dr. Robert Schuller repeated it in a televised sermon. It has been passed from person to person as a "true story" on the Internet since 1998. Though it's loosely based on her personal experiences, Ungar insists the story is pure fiction.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Woke up this morning with a headache, I think it grips the entire top right side of my brain, occasionally I feel it seep back to my neck, like an IV treads anesthetic this trails something like numbness and something like pain.  I think it pings my spinal chord and ricochets back up to my temple. The muscles in my neck and right shoulder blade area are tense and my right eyes is cringing a little.  It may be sinuses ... or maybe it's just plain ole stress stacking up on me.

Husband is out scouting some pre-Civil War boundary lines with some of his buds, it's a project, probably interesting, I don't know much about it at all.  I think of it as man cave type stuff.

Last night one of the girls was going to sleep with me.  It's sort of a prize left over from childhood, when Daddy is away someone can sleep in his spot.  I noted that she had evacuated sometime during the night and this morning she told me that I startle ... my legs jump a lot while I am asleep.  She said I gasp for air, like a swimmer.  I feel bad.  During the day I maintain a very calm demeanor, but I know I am struggling with something ... phantoms.  I am beginning to know something that I don't want to know.  Or maybe I just can't quite grasp it ... I do think I am trying.  I wonder, do we come to our lives with "some stuff" we are supposed to work out?  I think ... maybe.  Maybe we do.  I had been thinking it was all about making a choice about God and eternity.  Now I'm starting to think we come in on a mission sort like a seal team ... we all work together as individuals and as a team ... we have stuff that we are supposed to do and can do because we are us ... doing it makes us stronger versions of our true selves.  Maybe.  That's what I'm thinking about now.

Last night I dreamed that I was wearing a simple black knee length dress (I really do have a closet full of dresses that match that description) over a vibrant golden gown.  The under dress, because it was longer, kept on slipping down to my calves ... for some reason it was important to keep it hidden, like a secret, and I was concerned that it didn't lay smooth under the outer dress and would be apparent to anyone/everyone that I had ... layers ... in the dream I wondered if it could be mistaken for a slip.  A slip like ladies used to always wear under their dresses, back in the day.  For some reason I decided that I simply must change clothes and I looked in a closet but quickly realized that it was not my closet, I was in the wrong place.  Then I went to my closet and when I opened the door all but two of my garments were gone ... the remaining ones had been pushed roughly to one side and were dangling on their hangers in saw dust or ashes ... the floor was in disarray.  There was a door on the back of the closet and it was opened shedding light in to the closet.  I peeked in and saw something that looked like fluffy white clouds bathed in golden light ... I've seen actual places like that before many times, one comes quickly to mind and it is one of my favorite images.  I stepped back, out of the closet and saw all my clothes carelessly tossed out on to the floor.  I felt sad.  I also noticed that all the clothes were beautiful white and golden and silver ... just like the colors in the clouds (the ones on top of an overcast layer ... if you've seen them you know exactly what they look like, if you haven't, I am sorry but I can't describe them ... clouds are so cool up there). That door opened into the attic as some closets in two story homes do ... it didn't seem strange in the dream to know that that was the attic door, but it was very strange that it was opened and that all my things were out of place ... and that every garment was so, hmmm, festive I guess is the word, and elegant.  Maybe it had something to do with packing up the Christmas ornaments ... most of ours are gold, or silver, or white, glittery, beautiful, they look delicate but they're not, not really, they just need to be handled properly.  In the dream I was picking up my clothes, laying them out nicely and wondering why the closet was such a mess, with the floor all torn up and the walls shredded down to the studs.  It didn't make sense.  Then I heard a deafening noise ... like a high caliber rifle and turned to see a man shooting it into the attic space.  Why are you doing that I asked.  And he said he was getting ready to sound proof the attic and was measuring the sound that came out of it first.

I think that is a super creepy dream. (We can hear squirrels galloping across the roof top ... maybe that's where the sound proofing thing dropped in from.)   The attic is symbolic of: To see an attic in your dream represents hidden memories or repressed thoughts that are being revealed. It also symbolizes your mind, spirituality, and your connection to the higher Self. Alternatively, it signifies difficulties in your life that may hinder you from attaining your goals and aspirations. However, after a long period of struggle, you will overcome these difficulties. Yeah, I think  one can infer significance from one's dreams ... I think we have them for a real reason and what we are able to recall of them merits thought.  My headache makes me wonder if they are generated over on the right side.  A lot of the dream research I've read addresses dreams from a scientific or logical POV ... but I think there's a bit more to it then that.  Just like some renegade part of me thinks that cookies can make things better ... obviously illogical.

Yesterday I ate three of my super duper homemade chocolate chip cookies ... and later, basically for dinner, I indulged in a Butterfinger blast from Sonic (really really yummy ... with whipped cream).

I think my brain doesn't love that much sugar.  I think this is a sugar headache ... right after I finish this cup of coffee I'm going to ban sugar for myself for ... hmmm ... a week.
"If this is coffee, please bring me some tea;
 but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee."
~ Abraham Lincoln

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Shake it off ...

hair cut ... check ... (really just a trim, but I can see)

After the first, we take down the tree.  Had fun bonfiring it this year, I think a new tradition was born.  I like to carefully place the ornaments in a big basket or two as they come off the tree ... later I sort them and pack them back (just so) in their little boxes.  Today has been that day ... back in the little boxes, back in the big box, back out to the garage.  I love to open the box in December and find them looking like little presents waiting to be opened.  I love Christmas ... the whole thing.  This year was different then any other has been ... some of the kids brought guests ... maybe going to be family type guests and husband's mother was here also (silently reminding me that memories were being made).  So ... almost everything is back packed away til next Christmas and I just wonder what the year has in store for us all.
I just have that creepy feeling that I sometimes get ... it feels like the other foot is getting ready to drop.  I have been ... unsettled ... which is really weird for me.

I did the interview today (Fri) ... I don't know ... I don't do enough interviews to know how it went. I know when it was over I felt very alone. I wonder how it is possible to feel more alone at some times then others when one is alone?  And then, the other thing why is it, how is it that sometimes it seems just like you just don't feel Him nearer.

The winds of change and circumstance
Blow in and all around us
So we find a foothold that's familiar
And bless the moments that we feel you nearer
When life had begun I was woven and spun
You let the angels dance around the throne
Who can say when, but they'll dance again
When I am free and finally headed home
I will be weak, unable to speak, still I will call You by name
Creator, Maker, Life Sustainer
Comforter, Healer, My Redeemer
Lord and King, Beginning and the End
I Am, I Am 

~ Nicole Nordeman

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Italian Sausage Soup ... yum.

  • 5 slices thick cut bacon 
  • 1 lb ground Italian sausage (I use turkey sausage ... still Italian, just not pork)
  • 1 large sliced white onion and red onion also (used 1/2 a large one) 
  • 2 cloves minced garlic 
  • 5+ cups chicken broth/bouillon (enough to cover the potatoes once they are added)
  • Russet potatoes, about 3 large potatoes sliced thin
  • a bunch of kale
  • 1 cup heavy cream (or entire container ... )
  • salt 
  • crushed red pepper (and maybe a dab of sour cream to garnish)
Brown bacon in heavy soup pan ... I cut it in small pieces before hand (Otherwise, crumble it when crisp).  The sausage, already cut to bite size pieces goes in to brown now.  Add sliced onion and and garlic; sauté til tranluscent.   Next, broth (but bouillon will do in a pinch).  I turned up the heat at this point because next in was the sliced potatoes and they need a hot liquid to cook properly. Time to salt to taste ... then add chopped kale til it's wilted then the cream.  I did use the entire pint.  Delicious!