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.

************

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."

*****************

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.

******************

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.

***********

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.

It's been so long since I've taken time to write to myself here that I don't know what I've written down from what I've not!

The kitchen "touch up" is done.  As we prepare this house for the market (as early as next summer, but I'm thinking it will take another year after that - the casita is still a tool shed), I probably won't do another thing to this room after I change out the faucet. Would love to move the microwave out replacing it with a hood ... which would require buying a little microwave for under the counter top (where there is electrical already available) but, an over the oven hood upgrade would demand the additional work and expense of cabinet removal, wall repair/prep for tile ... it goes on and on each time one "tweaks" an already made choice! It's a cute little kitchen that functions beautifully for one cook at a time. My husband doesn't cook, except to add sardines to his pizza. When I'm not cooking, he is a sandwich man. I only eat serious bread.

I had the kitchen sparkling clean and fully loaded for the coming holiday. I love Thanksgiving.

Preparing things for the kids was fun. I fussed over getting the bedrooms as right as I could. It was fun to pull a couple of heavy quilts out which had been on my girl's beds when they shared a room. I'm realizing that I'm sentimental about those things which remind me of years long past ... and well spent. I enjoyed raising kids. Sure don't miss their meltdowns and I wish I could be as intentional at it as I'm able to be about endeavors now, but I am so very proud of each one of them. They're really cool adults.

While we were still at the table, he said, "That turkey is doing its thing." and I looked at him. First born. He is, well ... perfect. And he looked at me (and I clearly remember the first time that happened) and he said, "tryptophan" and I said, "melatonin" and he raised his eyebrows and smiled precisely as my dad did. See, sometimes tears burn behind my eyes and I look away. I wonder if that will happen more as I get older.  This stillness that sits with me now causes me to remember things often, and those memories overlay what is in the moment.  Probably I'm unable to describe it clearly. My life is intentionally uncluttered. That made room for more. I like that he can express himself perfectly while inadvertently prompting sweet memories of my dad. Genes are cool. I realize now that that expression is "bemused amusement with a dash of annoyed". Makes me smile to see it again. My son is just about ten years younger than Daddy was when he died.

Here in Texas, Dia de Muerte is a thing. I read up on it this year and it made me wish that my beliefs had a day to remember and celebrate my gone people.

I'm making it sound like thinking about all that was a big part of this time with my family - it wasn't at all. But it is fun to see family traits reappearing in later generations.

That is a fake smile. I had my camera out trying to figure out the portrait setting. Sometimes it makes the background blurry, which I like, and sometimes it does not. Certainly user error, but I can't be bothered to "google it". I seem to like to figure things out the hard way. 

She asked for a day up in Waco with just her dad and I and so we did that. She made a nail and charmed the man tending the greenhouse who shared fresh lettuce with us, three beautiful crunchy heads with their roots wrapped neatly at their bases, That was a week ago and it's still the best lettuce my refrigerator has seen. Thankful as the grocery store shelves are empty of lettuce now due to a problem with all the Romaine.  It was a good day. A really good day.

Blacksmith shop at Homestead Heritage Craft Village. Very cool.

These little chicks were making
 us laugh
 while my husband picked out seeds
 for our tomato garden.

More later -

slavery quotes ...

Slavery is intrinsically evil because mankind was created in God's image.  To enslave or to play at slaving games, one distorts  what we see God values ... choice/free will which I believe are at the heart of "relationship". (Genesis 1:27 stated that man was created in the image of God)

Created equal ... joint heirs

 the slave’s only incentive to work was out of fear for his master
Slaves could not skimp on the cotton they placed in their baskets or they would face a fierce flogging. She contrasted this with St. Clare’s household where the slaves were generally left alone. St. Clare admitted that his slaves were like spoiled children, but commented that “whipping and abuse are like laudanum; you have to double the dose as the sensibilities decline” which ultimately led to a dehumanizing of slave and master.  
Consequently, the slaveholder must keep the African debased and in fear in order to continue to enslave him.

The institution of slavery put unlimited power into the hands of the slave-holder. There were no laws protecting the slave. A master could treat his ‘property’ with as much cruelty or benevolence as he saw fit. As a result, the institution corrupted the white slave-owner’s moral values.
 my will, and not his, all the days of his mortal life,

master lives in fear also, of the day the power over another becomes too burdensome, of being rejected, going too far. losing their control. inherently immoral. 

Uncle Tom's cabin

Slavery subverted the natural rights of blacks by subjugating and brutalizing them: taking men and turning them, against God's will and nature, into beasts ~ Frederick Douglas

To suppress free speech is a double wrong. It violates the rights of the hearer as well as those of the speaker. ~Frederick Douglas

The thing worse than rebellion is the thing that causes rebellion.

The white man's happiness cannot be purchased by the black man's misery.

notes from late in 2014

“When we learn to read the story of Jesus and see it as the story of the love of God, doing for us what we could not do for ourselves—that insight produces, again and again, a sense of astonished gratitude which is very near the heart of authentic Christian experience.” N.T. Wright

saved note (draft) from Nov.'15

Notes 0n what I was thinking about in May 2015

• Full Definition of CYNIC

1

capitalized  :  an adherent of an ancient Greek school of philosophers who held the view that virtue is the only good and that its essence lies in self-control and independence 

2

:  a faultfinding captious critic; especially  :  one who believes that human conduct is motivated wholly by self-interest 

• Full Definition of SUPERFICIAL

1

a (1)  :  of, relating to, or located near a surface (2)  :  lying on, not penetrating below, or affecting only the surface <superficial wounds>

b  British  of a unit of measure  :  square <superficial foot>

2

a  :  concerned only with the obvious or apparent :  shallow

b  :  seen on the surface :  external

c  :  presenting only an appearance without substance or significance

• Full Definition of SUPERSTITION

1

a  :  a belief or practice resulting from ignorance, fear of the unknown, trust in magic or chance, or a false conception of causation 

b  :  an irrational abject attitude of mind toward the supernatural, nature, or God resulting from superstition 

2

:  a notion maintained despite evidence to the contrary

David Powlison writes, “Worry assumes the possibility of control – over the uncontrollable.”

 cynical skeptic will participate in religious activities in two ways:

• First, they are active because of superstition.  Pray this prayer… do this deed… earn divine favor.
• Second, they are active because of superficial habit.  We participate in these holidays because that what our families have always done.  

The superstitious person is characterized by legalism.  
The superficial person is characterized by leniency.  

Both have engaged in self-salvation projects and the promise of “The Lord is in our midst…” does nothing to stirs up their affection.

Manipulation/Propaganda/Public Relations

Notes from a paper by Edward L. Bernays 
(nephew of Sigmund Freud, noted as the father of PR)

The Engineering of Consent

Conclusion

Communication is the key to engineering consent for social action. But it is not enough to get out leaflets and bulletins on the mimeograph machines, to place releases in the newspapers, or to fill the air waves with radio talks.
Words, sounds, and pictures accomplish little unless they are the tools of a soundly thought-out plan and carefully organized methods. If the plans are well formulated and the proper use is made of them, the ideas conveyed by the words will become part and parcel of the people themselves.
When the public is convinced of the soundness of an idea, it will proceed to action. People translate an idea into action suggested by the idea itself, whether it is ideological, political, or social. They may adopt a philosophy that stresses racial and religious tolerance; they may vote a New Deal into office; or they may organize a consumers' buying strike. But such results do not just happen. In a democracy they can be accomplished principally by the engineering of consent. 

The Century of Self


notes from 2015

orison

a prayer

13th century from Latin oration


a draft from Dec.'12

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2015/12/how-to-see-your-way-through-things-right-now/

On this recent trip, through a series of unexpected moments, we ended up by the bay at America’s Cup yacht races, where we heard the story of Alex Thomson, who had sailed solo, non-stop around the world multiple times.

To give some perspective:

3,000 people have climbed Mount Everest;

500 people have been to space;

but less than 100 have sailed solo nonstop around the world. 

Alex had done this multiple times as part of the Vendée Globe, an 80-day solo race around the world.

a draft from 2015

That stillness slashed the grass with scythes of wind,
And made us wish we could a thousand acts rescind,
But we knew our wishes were for naught,
For what is easily sold is dearly bought.

saved as a "copy and paste" to think about - it's kinda perfectly stated.  I don't know now in November of 2018, but I think this is Vanderleun. (from 2015)

old draft from 2015 -

For several years 3's seat at church was in his dad's lap.   One of our friends wondered how many sermons we had all heard during the time it took to "rub the hair" off of the top of L's head.

It was truly great to have four of them here at once - four plus the one we seem to be on track to add.  Two asked me to sing at her wedding.  I generally do not sing alone except at home, but I told her whatever she wants.

It was Three's first time to fly commercial carrier.  Hilarious to hear him describe the experience complete with "hand airplane" in a jittering roll.  He said he searched the faces of those around him and no one seemed alarmed in the least.  He was on an A319 so it couldn't have been that bad - he has only "precious cargo flights" to compare this one to and I guess everyone doesn't set you down like your momma will.  All in all, he boarded the flight home saying he'd be back soon, it couldn't have been too bad.

Almost immediately after my dad died, my mother sold our home and moved.  She actually sold the house, and with the exception of one painting and the breakfast table, everything in it.  What didn't sell in the garage sale (I guess it was a garage sale, I was back at school) she gave to a charity.  That one painting Tommy kept, I have re-purposed the glass top to the breakfast table into a large coffee table.  I'm looking at it now.  And smiling.  My kids grew up spilling paint and tumbling block towers on that table ... later putting the Christmas puzzle together bit by bit, we play silly games like Exploding Cats at it now.   I built the base with two board notched to slide together to form an X.  We stopped using it for a breakfast table, but I can still see Momma and Daddy and Tommy and me sitting at it.  Thinking back I realize that my parents acquired it when our family became four.  It is the table that I sat the flowers from Daddy's garden on that day.

The table we use for most meals is an old farm house table which came from my husband's people.  It belonged to his grandparents and had for his dad's entire life.  I've refinished it twice and I think it might be due for another go!  It has four leaves and five legs.  My two oldest were talking about who should get it next during this recent visit.  That might have been morbid, but it was just funny.  Two really seems to want it. Looking at the memories invisibly stacked on the (now) coffee table I can see why she would want it - lotsa her memories were made at that table.  She said her daddy wrote "I love Two" on the inside of one of the legs where it bolts in to the table skirt.  She remembered fixing a wobbly leg with him.  Pretty sweet.  The chairs around it have changed, but the table itself has been a constant in our family's life.  

I wondered how it would "feel" to our children ... coming home to a different house. I never felt at home in my mother's house after she moved.  At the time I resented every thing new that she wrapped around herself after Daddy died.  Now I see that people deal with changes in all sorts of different ways and I believe she did the best she could.  I'm probably too sentimental.  Having the kids in felt exactly like home.

from 2 Feb. '17

I'm looking back over my "unpublished posts"

Fantasy 

consists in a morbid fascination 

with unrealities, 

which secretly transforms itself into 

a desire to make them real. 

Imagination 

is a form of intellectual control, 

which presents us with 

the image of unrealities 

in order that we should 

understand and feel 

distanced 

from them.

In imagination we dominate; 

in fantasy, we are dominated.

~Roger Scruton

fan·ta·sy

ˈfan(t)əsē/

noun

1. 1. 

   the faculty or activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible or improbable.

   
   

   "his research had moved into the realm of fantasy"

   
   

   synonyms:

   imagination, fancy, invention, make-believe; More

   • 
     

     
     
   • 
     
   • 
     
2. im·ag·i·na·tion

   iˌmajəˈnāSH(ə)n/

   noun

   1. the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses.

      
      

      "she'd never been blessed with a vivid imagination"

      
      

      synonyms:

      creative power, fancy, vision;  informalmind's eye "a vivid imagination" interest, fascination, attention, passion, curiosity "the album captured the public's imagination"

      • the ability of the mind to be creative or resourceful.

        
        

        "technology gives workers the chance to use their imagination"

        
        

        synonyms:

        creativity, imaginativeness, creativeness;  vision, inspiration, inventiveness, invention, resourcefulness, ingenuity;  originality, innovation, innovativeness "you need imagination in dealing with these problems"

check point charlie

Driving back late (for me now - lol) Sunday night from where I grew up (and don't even recognize now) I had plenty of time alone to think about the young woman who I had serendipitously meet the night before. We, three of my childhood friends and I, had been out to dinner, we were celebrating a 60th birthday. We left there to go shoot pool, which is still one of my favorite things even with the fact that I now official stink at it. All told we were headed home by 10:45, stopping briefly for drop offs, I was almost in the shower by 11:30.  I like to shower at night. My hosting friend tapped on the door and said, "Hey, before you hop in the shower, wanna deliver the cookies with us.  I kinda didn't. Not just because I already had the water perfect, but because I was really already tired.  I've been on enough "girl weekends" with these girls to know that they sleep in.  I am starting out the day crossways if I haven't had an excellent cup of coffee and about an hours worth of quiet by 6:30. I like mornings best now. Anyway, I got dressed again and went. Turned out the cookie delivery to her brother was less than a 15 minute walk away.  It felt good to be in the Lower Rio Grand Valley's moon lite October air. I'm guessing 77 slightest breeze.

I ended up on the quiet couch in the room with the young woman and though they could easily have heard our conversation I think they were too involved in the kind of laughing and kidding around that happens when old friends (even when they are family) get together. I threw in enough "'member whens ..." to hold up my end but mostly, I was interested in the girl.  She's a year in to college, absolutely stunning, and 8 months pregnant.

Are you scared I asked her after we'd been chatting a bit.  She said she was and asked how'd I know.  I said because it is scary - having a baby, at least I thought it was before I became a mother.  I told her that even though I'd read everything I could get my hands on about it that I was petrified when I was eight months pregnant. My mother had made it sound like something I'd never live through. At eight months I wasn't in a good place.  I asked her exactly what are you afraid of and as she worked her way through the impressively knowledgeable list I just listened, nodded as appropriate and made small sounds of agreement.  Pregnancy is scary.  Bringing a baby home is crazy scary too. She asked me how it went.  And I shared something like this - Sometime before the due date I realized that every human on the planet is born. A lot of women have had babies and I started looking closely at them.  Basically I came to the conclusion that I would actually be probably better at the actual birthing process than most of the women I saw. (I have no idea now how I reached that conclusion and I laugh at what may sound like youthful arrogance ...) I told her that I saw myself as the sort of person who could do most stuff well and I thought she was that same type of woman.  I asked her if she was absolutely horrible at anything and she laughed.
I told her that after having several pregnancies I am certain that the baby is already expressing personality traits and during quiet moments she may be able to hear him with her heart.

 I wonder if I might be useful offering volunteer time to sit with young women who are finding their way through unplanned pregnancies.

I'm starting to long for grandchildren. As far as I know though, none of my children have starting a family on their "five year plan".

This is check point Charlie - Hwy 281 funnels everyone through there and it's been like that my entire life.  Barely above that "gate" a new facility is being constructed. I really can't imagine that any smuggling drives through there.  My friend said some high school date of hers popped off when they were headed up to Corpus for a fancy dinner out and those border patrol guys put them in separate interrogation rooms AND dismantled his mother's brand new Cadillac looking for contraband.  What ever happened to the car after that I wondered and she said she had no idea.  Her Daddy wasn't a fan of the guy before that bit of trouble, a suggestion to avoid him hadn't been heeded and there was no follow up after her dad had to drive up there in the dark of night!