Where was I?

I baked these two pies late on Tuesday and told everyone that as long as there was enough for everyone to have a slice on Thanksgiving to feel free to dive in early if they wanted to.  And they did.  Pecan pies are ridiculously easy to make. I have never attempted my own - from scratch - pie crust, but V has several times and she says it's easy.  Her crusts were perfection so she sure made it look easy.  These are Pillsbury pie crusts which were on hand for a homemade chicken pot pie which turned in to a special request chicken and dumplings a few weeks ago leaving the pie shells to wait. Last time I was down in the Valley my friend's big sister came over to hang out with us. When we were all younger, I thought she was everything a young woman could wish to be,  and she is still just lovely.  Back in the day she taught Home Ec. - culinary science now. One friend was trying to get a pie shell ready for a special pumpkin pie which has become a birthday gift tradition for a different friend of ours. Her shell wasn't working so she was sending us to the store for an already made one when Big Sister volunteered to "put one together".  My eyes were huge watching her measure out a few things from the pantry just from memory ... like no recipe  - from memory.  Wow!  It smelled so nice cooking and came out of the oven golden and flaky, and the edges were scalloped and picture perfect.  Big Sister is still my hero after all these years. She has become everything an older woman might wish to be. It was neat to see someone slide their chair back from coffee with friends and just produce the perfect thing to fix what was becoming a bit of a mess. Anyway - that's not me as you can see. The Pillsbury pie shells were fine, but not ample enough for a smart little scalloped edge ... and they stuck to the glass pans.  Maybe I should have said a tasty pecan pie is ridiculously easy to make! Sugar, liquefied sugar (aka corn syrup), nuts, vanilla and an egg.  I did a comparison between chopped pecans and pecan halves and all preferred the pecan halves. So pies, banana bread (and for the first time ever I cooked banana slices with butter and brown sugar and that is a delicious side for banana bread - cooked bananas who knew) and most of the prep was done before bedtime on Tuesday. 

On Wednesday two of the girls made a day trip to Fredericksburg and the other daughter had car inspection tasks etc. which took her and her dad out of the house for the day leaving me to cook alone.  I wasn't expecting that. I spent Wednesday filling the house with good smells and music from my Sonos. The traditional Thanksgiving feast really is a lot of work but ... not that big a deal, I'm just not used to it now.  Everyone enjoyed the time around the table. Three was unable to make it down this year and I played Thelonius Monk, weirdly one of his favorites, as background music for the day. Hoping to visit him in Denver before Christmas. Blessed to have four of our five in for the holiday.

I like that the kids enjoy playing board games with each other
- pretty soon that table will be covered in the annual Christmas puzzle.

 

These were snapped during a walk around Zilker Park - one of my favorite places. One and Four suggested I get ready to join them in a 5K Turkey Trot next year - and I may do that if I don't have cooking responsibilities.

Max didn't get to go that time, but he was thrilled to be allowed up on the furniture. Sweet dog.  

~*~

Thoughts during this time which weren't necessarily anything other than random:

When you say something to someone, no matter how well intentioned, before their heart is ready to hear it - you're probably not making "it" better.

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In his play "Two Trains Running," August Wilson wrote, "You walking around here with a ten-gallon bucket. Somebody put a little cupful in and you get mad 'cause it's empty. You can't go through life carrying a ten-gallon bucket. Get you a little cup. That's all you need. Get you a little cup and somebody put a bit in and it's half-full."

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I dreamt:

Man in octagon maze
inside each was a slat like the line which changes a C to a G. Some octagons had more than one slat. The maze seemed to be alive and evil. The walls of the octagon and the slates would “give way” , folding down, collapsing.
The man in the maze would tumble, losing ground. It was a painful, frustrating, humiliating journey as the man made his way through the maze as best he could.

I think I think of life like that. Sometimes. In a subtle underlying way. I think sin messed up the Garden and it became the maze.

Maybe you just want out of the maze or maybe you think there is something at the end of the maze worth getting to

I think there is something worth getting to. I think that is God. I think Jesus made that Hope a possibility and I think the Holy Spirit is an invisible presence whispering encouragement as we encounter the pain and the frustrations and the humiliations.

And I think the maze will turn back into a Garden. I think the garden surrounds Heaven.

I wondered how God could possible receive me filthy as I am, broken, bloodied, a mere whisper of who He planned when he thought of me. How could He love me?

and

God does love us.

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People die when their attitude for entering heaven to meet God is right or irreparable. 

Or perhaps we are simply at the mercy of our God/god.

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So here’s what I think happens - 

people either think their thoughts or they don’t. 

Of the people who don’t, there are people who feel their thoughts - they react.

Of the people who think, most of them don’t seem to be (able to share their thoughts) 

- it’s hard to find people who share their thoughts. 

I like hearing people’s thoughts when they have actually thought about them. 

People who feel their thoughts aren’t interesting to me.

I think a lot of people aren’t formulating thoughts. 

I think those people have to spend most of their energy on surviving or providing survival.

It’s good to be at a time in my life when I can really give thought to things.