by jphilo | Aug 10, 2012 | Daily Life
Pardon the latest of this post, but I just got back from peach pie heaven. Though those of you who shudder at the thought of making 5 fresh peach pies before 10 AM, my peach pie heaven may be your peach pie hell.
But the opportunity to prepare dessert for a wedding rehearsal involving two families who have given generously to us made the time in the kitchen heavenly. While peeling peaches, I reflected upon the ways these families touched ours in the past:
- During our son’s six years as a monk, the bride’s parents subscribed to the monastery newsletter and talked about what they read in it. That simple act of caring meant more to us than words can express.
- The bride and her sister, who are a few years older than our daughter, let Anne borrow a formal for her senior prom. The kicky, funky dress turned out to be Anne’s all time favorite.
- When Anne was in fourth grade, the groom volunteered to play George Burn’s to her Gracie Allen for a school performance project. The groom’s parents helped him memorize his lines.
- The groom did the filming for Different Dream Parenting’s book trailer. Because he has a film degree, he’s been able to help with other audio-visual projects. And he never rolls his eyes when I ask questions with obvious (to the younger generation, anyway) answers.
Such simple things, I mused. But things our family couldn’t do without them.
We couldn’t enter into typical how-the-kids-are-doing conversations with friends unless they understood something about our son’s life.
We couldn’t afford a kicky, funky prom dress for Anne.
We couldn’t be our pint-sized Gracie Allen’s pint-sized straight man.
We couldn’t film professional quality video.
So when our small church group decided to host tonight’s wedding rehearsal dinner for our friends, I volunteered to make dessert.
Not just any dessert.
But fresh peach pie.
Not just 1 pie, but 5.
Enough to feed the whole crowd.
Why volunteer for what some people consider a hellish job?
Because I make a killer peach pie.
Because it’s peach season.
Because this is an opportunity to give back to those who have given to us.
Because being able to give back is a taste of heaven on earth.
How do I know this? Because, I realized, while pouring the last of the glaze over fresh-sliced peaches resting in the baked pastry shell, when God provides opportunities for his people to exercise the unique gifts he’s equipped them with, he’s giving them a foretaste of heaven on earth. And what does heaven taste like?
Heaven tastes serving people who freely served us.
It tastes like the celebration for two lovely, young people making a lifelong commitment.
It tastes like finally being able to give back.
Heaven tastes like fresh peach pie on a warm, summer night.
by jphilo | Jul 23, 2012 | Daily Life
It’s lunchtime, and I just realized there’s no post yet for today. My first inclination was to blame the oversight on my age, which as of Friday will be closer to 60 than to 50. But after looking over last week’s to do list and writing a new one for this week, I decided busyness was the culprit. Take a gander at these to do lists and see what you think.
Items Completed on Last Week’s To Do List
- Buy groceries to feed hungry daughter and son-in-law.
- Water the flowers gasping for moisture because of the drought.
- Squeeze in writing time between cooking and visiting with company.
- Take daughter’s birthday meal, including homemade German Chocolate birthday cake, along with hubby, daughter, and son-in-law, to my brother’s to celebrate birthday with his family and my mom.
- Buy more groceries to feed hungry company.
- Water the flowers again.
- Finish washing the windows with daughter. All done! Yahoo!
- Make pesto from basil growing like crazy because of the heat.
- Buy more groceries.
- Water again.
- Watch 2 episodes of the PBS series Sherlock with husband, daughter, and son-in-law. Waaaay good!
- More groceries.
- More watering.
- Meet with friend (who organized the daughter’s wedding reception) to organize her son’s upcoming wedding reception.
- Finish tweaking of book proposal and send it to agent. Double yahoo!
- Groceries.
- Watering.
Items on this Week’s To Do List
- Get son-in-law to auto repair shop so leak in his car’s gas line could be fixed.
- Buy groceries on way home.
- Water flowers.
- Take son-in-law back to auto repair shop to pick up car.
- Squeeze in writing between cooking and talking about books and movies with daughter and son-in-law.
- Water flowers.
- Take measurements so daughter can make me two bras.
- Watch final episode in series one of Sherlock.
- Try not to cry when daughter and son-in-law leave on Wednesday.
- Water again.
- Prepare for Camp Dorothy by moving Hiram and me to upstairs bedroom.
- Tune the television to The Price is Right, Jeopardy, Judge Judy, Wheel of Fortune, and Antiques Roadshow.
- Pick up Mom on Friday for Camp Dorothy.
- Water some more.
- Celebrate my birthday with Hiram and Mom.
- Put on Vana outfit and settle in for 5 days of Camp Dorothy fun.
- Help at wedding reception on Saturday.
- Water.
What on your to do list makes it easy for you to forget the most routine things? Leave a comment!
by jphilo | Jul 13, 2012 | Daily Life
A hanging flower pot, overflowing with a geranium and vinca vine, blushes pink whenever visitors arrive at our kitchen door. The plants are vigorous and lovely, a stunning display of color and creation.
But the vinca vine was not always so healthy.
Both the geranium (not the heritage geranium mentioned before on this blog) and the vinca vine were refugees, rescued from Mom’s house in the fall of 2008 when she gave up housekeeping. “Would you take this to your house?” Mom asked, handing me the flower pot. The geranium looked fairly healthy, but the vinca vine was one straggly, droopy sprout. She pointed to it and explained, “It got too big, so I tore it down. Take good care of it, and give it time.”
“It’ll come back,” she said.
I wasn’t so sure. After a winter of pampering, the vine still looked sickly. In the spring, I repotted it and the geranium in fresh soil and watered it religiously all summer. The geranium loved the attention, but the vinca vine paid me no mind. By the end of the summer, it looked as sickly and straggly as ever.
Over the next three years, it didn’t come back.
The plants were pampered all winter, repotted each spring, watered and fussed over all summer. The geranium bloomed madly, but the vinca remained straggly, sickly, droopy, ugly. This past winter, the long vinca vines dried up, and a couple new sprouts shot up from the roots. Frustrated, I whacked off the dried vines with a scissor. Then I gathered the brown leaves and stems and muttered, “This is your last chance,” to the silent, sickly, straggly vine.
Over the next month, it came back.
Every week, more new shoots sprouted. Once repotted in new soil and outdoors for the summer, it went crazy. Sprouting. Leafing. Vining. Cascading. Giving the blooming geranium a run for it’s money. Despite this summer’s heat. Despite the worst drought since 1988. This hot, dry summer, my mother’s promise came true.
It came back.
Each time I water it, each time it catches my eye, each time visitors comment on the lovely pot, each time I picture the straggly, sickly sprout she gave me, her confident words ring in my ears.
“It’ll come back.”
I look at the vine and think of all that’s happened in our lives since the vine came to our house in 2008. It is a constant reminder of a hard-learned truth. Like a husband’s restored health after a long convalescence, like a prodigal son come home after years far away, like a non-expressive parent finally able to express emotion thanks to a cruel disease, like high school friendships renewed after a long hiatus, like the promise of eternity in the presence of a loving God, the best things in life are worth the time, the patience, the prayers, the undying hope, and the love required until…
They do come back.
by jphilo | Jun 29, 2012 | Daily Life
Discombobulated.
My adjective of choice after a discombobulated week that followed hard on the heels of a discombobulated month thanks to the man of steel’s back troubles. Sure, the surgeon used fancy-schmancy terms like “ruptured disk” and “disk extrusion.” But I knew he really meant Hiram’s back was…
Discombobulated.
This general term is more specific to our situation because though the doctor removed Hiram’s stitches on Monday, and said his recovery is going well, he also said the man of steel needs to be off work for at least two more weeks. So he can do physical therapy to strengthen his back. But when he’s not at physical therapy, he’s still puttering around. Which means his guitars are scattered throughout the house. Which makes me feel…
Discombobulated.
Don’t get me wrong. Having Hiram and his guitars around the house is pleasant. But his presence means I keep interrupting my work to ask him questions or tell him important stuff. Because writers take advantage of any distraction to avoid writing. Which means my daily writing routine is pretty…
Discombobulated.
My condition persists even though Hiram’s extra time off mean we were able to make a quick trip to Wisconsin to see Allen and Abbey earlier this week. Even though the extra time off means our upcoming trip Minneapolis for a baby shower won’t be rushed. Even though the extra recovery time means we can watch more episodes of Lost, which we became addicted to when Hiram couldn’t get around much. Even though I’m counting all those blessings, this creature of habit still feels…
Discombobulated.
Kinda like after we brought each of our babies home, and it took a few months to get used to the new normal. Except in this case, about the time I get used to the new normal, the doctor will say Hiram can go back to work. And I’ll sit around the house feeling…not lonely or aimless. No, I’ll once again feel…
Discombobulated.
by jphilo | Jun 22, 2012 | Daily Life
The resident man of steel is on the mend after his back surgery on June 12. But, he’s still feeling a bit rusty, so he’s obeying the surgeon’s orders: no driving, no extra bending, no twisting, and no lifting anything more than five pounds.
Hiram’s back pain is preventing us from launching any new yard projects this summer. Thankfully, the heavy lifting for the container herb garden on the south side of the house was done before the man of steel’s back went wacky. This warm spring encouraged the herbs (oregano and rosemary in the far pot, basil in the middle one, chives and thyme in the near one, parsley and cilantro in a fourth pot not pictured) to grow faster than expected.
The basil’s already had one haircut which yielded a good-sized batch of pesto. (The recipe for a non-dairy version coming next Wednesday.) As the picture shows, the basil’s ready for another haircut this weekend. Some of the rosemary and chives spiced up a batch of grilled potatoes and onions, and the oregano put in an appearance in last week’s grilled red onions recipe. But this wannabe spice chef can’t cook fast enough to keep up with the other spices. The best I can do is trim the ends before everything begins to blossom.
So if you have good recipes that require copious amounts of fresh herbs, please leave a suggestion, a recipe, or a link in the comment box. If you like, comment on the artistically arranged vintage bicycle, too. The resident man of steel thinks it’s kinda crazy, but I like it!
by jphilo | May 25, 2012 | Daily Life
Once upon a time there was a woman named Bushybrows. Because she had bushy eyebrows. They were bushy because on a trip to visit her daughter who lives in a far away land, Bushybrows lost the magical, scissor-type, slant end tweezers she’d used to pluck her brows for years and years.
When Bushybrows returned from the journey and looked in the mirror, she was desperate for a new pair of tweezers, just like her old ones. But alas, at the store she discovered they no longer made the magical tweezers she loved. So she purchased a pair of slant-end tweezers – not the cheapest and not the most expensive – and skipped merrily home.
But when she tried the tweezers, they turned out to be Papa Tweezers – TOO BIG for her bushy, yet dainty brow.
So Bushybrows went to another store and bought a smaller, cheaper pair of tweezers and skipped merrily home.
But when she got home and tried the tweezers, they turned out to be Mama Tweezers.
TOO WIMPY for her wiry, yet dainty brows.
So Bushybrows went to a third store and after looking at all the tweezers, purchased a pair she hoped would be JUST RIGHT, and skipped home merrily to give them a try.
Alas they turned out to be only so-so.
That is to say, they do the job.
Sort of.
If Bushybrows concentrates really hard and doesn’t mind constantly pinching her skin.
But the process isn’t magical, not like the old tweezers were.
Bushybrow’s thinking they don’t make things like they used to.
And maybe it’s time for the uni-brow to make a come back.
How’s that for an unhappy ending to this Grim Mother’s bear of a tale?
