9. Make up a recipe.

I made this Tuesday night.  It was good.  It's based on something I've had in other places, but I came up with it on my own.

• One package of vermicelli

• One jar of alfredo sauce.  I used Great Value

• One jar of julienned sliced sundried tomatoes

• One package of frozen chopped spinach

• 1 jar of quartered artichoke hearts

• Boneless, skinless chicken breasts.  I used the thinly sliced ones, but you could change this to meet the eating needs of your family.
• Parmesan/romano cheese
• Vegetable oil
• Your choice of spice for chicken

Prepare vermicelli according to package directions.  When you add the pasta to the hot water, add frozen spinach to cook along with it.  Drain and return to pasta pot.  In a skillet, heat a small amount of vegetable oil and add whatever spices your family prefers in chicken.  Cut chicken into bite size pieces or strips and cook in heated oil until they pieces take on a brown tone and are thoroughly cooked through.

Add cooked chicken to the pasta/spinach mixture.  Add in alfredo sauce, along with drained tomatoes and artichoke hearts.  Stir all together.  Add a generous amount of parmesan/romano cheese and stir into the mix.  If you like them, black olives can also be added.

That's it!  It's super yummy and quick too!  It looks uber impressive but is oh-so easy.

8. Describe an object in the room without mentioning it by name.

It sits across from my desk and makes me smile whenever I see it. Partly because of what it is and partly because of  the people it reminds me of:  my dad, my daughter, the little girl I once was, and teenaged me who devoured its pages at Grandmother's house on a yearly basis.

The top is black with large letters.  Although its words sound as if it provides instruction for ending a life, the words contained within speak to the dignity of life for all.  Its simplistic artwork reminds me of the trees I climbed as a girl; the ones that often cause me to wonder how a tree-climbing, book-loving girl wound up in a job that either uses technology to teach or requires me to sit at a desk.

The words on the lower part speak to a mystery.  A gifted writer who shared one story and was a friend to another literary mystery.  In some ways, a typical southern woman, but also a heroine to many.  A lover of privacy whose quiet life has raised more questions that it has answered.  Is she Scout?  Is she more of a Boo Radley?  Is she the mockingbird and has he own privacy been violated?
A gift in many ways.  The contents of its pages were a gift to a middle child who sought fairness and saw herself in its primary character.  The man of the book provided a way describe my own father to others.  The item itself was a gift from the one who made me a mom and reminds me of our shared love of books and words and fairness.

7. Create a character ten years older than you of the opposite sex and write about their day in first person.

This may take a while.  Check back later.

6. Describe the most vivid dream you can remember.

I don't want to share the details, but there are two.  They both increased my faith and brought me closer to God.  They came at just the right time and gave me hope in hopeless situations. 

Argue with me if you will, but after these two experiences, I will always believe that God still uses dreams to communicate with his people.

5. Tell about a lesson you learned in middle school.

In my world, middle school was still called junior high.  Seventh and eighth grade.  A time of self-absorption and individuation for most people, and definitely for me.  I began to see myself as an individual and not just my parents' child.  I had feelings and thoughts of my own and was sure I deserved experiences of my own too.

There were good things -- I had very good friends in Mary, Laura, Sam, and Jon, and there were difficult things too.  If I remember correctly, my mom spent at least part of my eighth grade year in the psychiatric ward of a hospital in Little Rock.  That might've been ninth grade, though.  I'm not completely sure.  

These are the years without a lot of concrete memories.  I remember favorite people and teachers, but  not a lot of events.  I remember feeling pretty awkward and uncertain in my body.  I was tall -- had always been tall -- but others were beginning to catch up.  I wore mostly homemade clothes, which did not help my feelings of being different.

In subsequent years, I've learned that everyone felt as awkward and out of it as I did.  A few years later, the movie The Breakfast Club came out and we all talked about who belonged in which category:   the princess, the athlete, the brain, the basket case, or the criminal.  We were quick to assign others to the princess, athlete and brain category and it was pretty obvious who the criminal/rebels were.  

But really?  We all felt like the basket case. We all were basket cases.  Uncertain.  Learning.  Fearful.  Awkward.  

4. What material object do you cherish the most?

Hard question.

I don't tend to think of myself as a "stuff" person.  I tend to treasure people and memories more than things.

That said, there are things I own that are dear to me, primarily because of the memories and the people I associate with them.

First, I love my house.  I found it.  I bought it.  It didn't come loaded with memories, but with promises of new beginnings.  For the fist time in years, I feel like I have a home.

I love the pieces of furniture and decor that once belonged in my grandmother's house.  

That's enough for now.  I'm not that much of a stuff person, but home and family mean much to me and I am honored to be trusted with this house and the legacy that comes with being my grandmother's granddaughter.

3. What is the oldest piece of clothing in your closet that you still wear?

Oddly enough, I have it on today.

I'll admit it:  several pieces of my winter wardrobe don't fit well right now, so I pulled out one of the few older items I still had in my closet and wore it today.

It's a jumper.  A black velvet-type jumper.  To be honest, it's a little too big (which is good) but it still looks pretty ok.  I've had it a long time, and for years it was my go-to for funerals; I wore it to Grandmother's funeral with a dark purple sweater

I hope it never truly fits again, but I'm thankful that I had it today.

I even got a compliment from one of our student workers.  "I like that!  It's kind of like an overall dress . . . what do you call it?"  

2. If you had to eat the same meal over and over again for the rest of your life, what would it be, and why?

Oh, this is rich.

If you know me, you know food is a big part of my life.  It's been both a blessing and a curse.  Although I haven't spent my adult life yo-yo dieting, food and my body size has been a constant theme of my life.

So about that food . . .

I miss my grandmother's cooking.  I have a lot of her recipes, but somehow they genuinely tasted somewhat different -- better -- when she prepared them.  My grandmother's generation was probably the last one who ate more real food over their lifetime than prepared foods.  Oven fried chicken, sliced tomatoes, cornbread, butter beans . . . and all of it so, so good.  I don't remember a lot of potatoes or rice being served at her house.  Her Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were amazing.  She was no short order cook whose major function was to keep everyone happy.  She fixed meals -- wonderful meals full of real food -- and we sat as a family and ate.

I miss that.  I would eat one of her meals every day for the rest of my life if I could.

In the real world, I would have to say Mexican food.  Or what we think of as Mexican food.  It seems like no matter combination of those ingredients you have, it tastes good.  Really good.  It's satisfying too.  The salsa, the crunch of the chips, the warmth of the beans and rice.  It's just good.

In fact, yesterday, I had Mexican food with a friend for lunch and then went home and fixed Mexican chicken and Spanish rice for supper.  I mean what's not to love about this?

1. What is your earliest memory?

Early memories?  It's hard to know what to include.  Are they actual memories or stories I've heard so often that I've created a visual interpretation of them?

One scene that comes to mind is in Georgia, seeing my brother come home with a bloody nose.  Since I was two when we moved from Georgia, I feel fairly certain this is a constructed memory.  I also remember being in our house on Pleasure Street and running down the hall yelling, "Mary Jane!  Mary Jane!"  Someone had come to the door and asked for "Mary Jane."  Not realizing that was the same person as "Mama," I called for who was being requested.

Other Pleasure Street memories include being stuck in a tree in the back yard and having to wait for my dad to get home from work to climb up and rescue me.  He was my hero.  I also remember waking up and finding our neighbors in our house instead of my parents.  My mom had gone to the hospital to have a baby and came home later with Alan.  Our neighbors were the Walls and they treated us like their own grandchildren.  I remember loving them dearly and feeling safe in their home.  I have one very focused memory of drinking 7-Up and eating Fritos and seeing little pieces of Frito float in the bottle.  For a brief time, my mom had someone who would come and help do the housework.  I don't remember her name (maybe Margaret?) but I remember that she reminded me of Miss Edna who had helped Grandmother for so many years.

And I remember moving away from Pleasure Street to a smaller home on Center Street.  I felt it was a new adventure, but looking back, it must have been from financial difficulties during the recession of the 70s.

To be honest, I don't have a lot of specific memories from many of the following years.  I don't know if it's because I'm more of a live-in-the-moment person or if it's because there were several years of difficulty that came soon after we moved from Pleasure Street.

But the early years?  Good memories.  A lot of unstructured time and playing and music and singing.  I would consider myself to be a happy child.

Twenty-five writing prompts to hopefully end the writer's block

1. What is your earliest memory?

2. If you had to eat the same meal over and over again for the rest of your life, what would it be, and why?

3. What is the oldest piece of clothing in your closet that you still wear?

4. What material object do you cherish the most?

5. Tell about a lesson you learned in middle school.

6. Describe the most vivid dream you can remember.

7. Create a character ten years older than you of the opposite sex and write about their day in first person.

8. Describe an object in the room without mentioning it by name.

9. Make up a recipe.

10. Pick a controversial issue you are passionate about – and then argue the opposite stance (ooooh…I dare you).

11. Write a letter to your sixteen-year-old self.

12. Write a letter to your ten-years-older-than-you-currently-are self.

13. Start with the day of the week it currently is…and then let your stream of consciousness take it from there.

14. What is your favorite book, and why does it speak to you?

15. If you could have any skill in the world (that you currently don’t have), what would it be?

16. What was your favorite thing to imagine when you were a child?

17. Write a letter to the President.  Without mentioning politics.

18. Describe your perfect day.

19. Write a letter apologizing to someone you owe an apology to (if you don’t owe anyone an apology – make it up).

20. Why do you like to write?

21. What inspires you?

22. When do you feel your happiest and most complete?  How does it feel when you are experiencing this?

23. Describe your favorite sound.

24. What kind of work do you like best?

25. Write about the first thing that happened yesterday morning.

Be careful what you wish for

I know the saying. I know what the saying means and I've lived that truth several times in my life. 

Still, I wish. 

I wish I could have a year -- no, just a month -- where I didn't feel the need to juggle being mom, daughter, friend, church member, employee, sister, and responsible human being in the midst of it all. 

In fact, I would probably settle for a week or a day of that. 

I wish being an adult didn't mean being the decision maker for so many things that impact so many others. 

I wish that other people's words and thoughts didn't matter to me. That I didn't care as much. That I didn't want to do a good job. 

Somedays, I wish I could be ok with being the person who just shows up. Punches a clock. Warms a seat. 

But that's not me. It matters to me. People matter to me. Doing a good job and being responsible both matter to me.

I mess up. Make mistakes. Don't always communicate well. Misunderstand. Assume. All those other things we humans do. I don't like it, but I do. 

Because that's life. It isn't always easy -- in fact, it rarely is -- but it's life.  

Yesterday

With all due respect to the Beatles, yesterday, my troubles did not seem far away. One of my lifelong, closest friend's dad passed away. I spent most of the day running errands or playing taxi. I was reminded again of my own mom's failing health and the fact that her care is bordering on being beyond what we can manage on our own. 

By the time the day ended, I was spent. Tired. Processing. Sad. I didn't take the time to think about food. I just ate. Less than I would on some other days, maybe, but definitely more than what was needed. I knew I was eating for comfort. To numb the sadness and to find a familiar feeling. 

Today is a new day. It will also have challenges. A dear friend is moving across country and this will be her last time at church with us here. My sweet Emily is moving back to Jonesboro for another semester of college. I will gather with childhood friends to grieve the loss of another of our parents. 

Life will continue. 

With all of its beautiful messiness, life will continue. 

Saturday AM

I'll spare you the details of everything I've eaten, but I do want to share some insights from tracking like this for just a couple of days. 

1: Committing to write this down makes me think about whether or not I'm actually hungry or just wanting food. That by itself is a big deal. 

2: No one is telling me what to eat, but I sort of want to make better choices anyway. The Reese's on my desk aren't screaming at me anymore. At supper, I got veggie fajitas because I wasn't terribly hungry. I brought half of my lunch and supper home. 

Small steps. I don't want a big plan that's short term and hard to follow. I want to figure out how to deal with food in the midst of my everyday life. 

Ugh and human nature and life and such

Author's note:  I really thought I published this yesterday.  Really.  For sequencing purposes, read this before the Ahhhhh . . . . home at last post.  

Once again, I should never set a lofty goal.  It is not in my nature nor my life circumstances to fulfill a lofty goal that involves consistency.

What I can tell you is that I've had a wonderful Spring and Summer.  Two projects with the community theatre.  Read a draft of a soon-to-be-published manuscript.  Trips to Memphis and Nashville and Baltimore and New York City.

Life is busy; life is good.

I'm tackling the food thing again.  I have to.  If I don't, then it will get the best of me again and I really don't want to go back there.

I'm reading a book (of course I'm reading a book) entitled, Stop Eating Your Heart Out. It has 21 days of thought and behavioral activities that focus on changing the thoughts and emotions surrounding food.  The first day was Write Your Food Story.  I wrote it in a journal, but I'll also post it here.  Day two was to start charting your eating behaviors.  Each time I eat (even one bite) I'm supposed to write down:

When

What

How did I feel?

Precipitating Event


Just knowing I need to write it down makes me more aware of what I put in my mouth.  Here's today so far:

When:  6:30 AM

What:  Coffee with creamer

How did I feel?  Tired

Precipitating Event  Got up and needed to find some energy

When:  8:00

What:  Bagel with butter

How did I feel?  Tired

Precipitating Event:  Realized I needed to get ready for work and eat something before I left.

Side note:  As I was eating the bagel, at one point I felt like I had to finish the whole thing and I really didn't like that I'm 46 and still feel like I have to clean my plate.  So I didn't.  I threw more than half of the second half of the bagel away. 

When:  Noon.

What: Ritz cheese crack snack pack from the break room

How did I feel?  Tired, kind of pressured and rushed, and hungry

Precipitating Event:  I was planning to go home for lunch before I took the boys to the orthodontist for consultation visits, but someone stopped by for a research consultation.  I was able to get home in time to eat a quick bowl of pasta leftovers, but not for a real meal, which led to this:

When:  1:00 PM

What:  Leftover pasta with vodka sauce (yum), spinach, and black olives

How did I feel?  Still felt rushed (eating on the run is never fun) and not quite as hungry

Precipitating Event:  See previous eating experience.

And finally (at least for this entry) . . .

When:  3:50 PM

What:  1 Reese's cup miniature

How did I feel?  Still rushed and like a five-year-old thinking, "oh yes I can!"

Precipitating Event:  Said orthodontist consult which included the words, "jaw surgery" and "consult with an oral surgeon," and "different paths of care and treatment," and "decisions" (none of which sounded very good) followed by taking the boys to Hasting's followed by taking them to SHS followed by returning to work just in time to take the 4-6 shift at the front desk.

And there was still more to come on this busy day: When I left at 6:00, I had about ten things still on my to-do-list, including a Walmart trip for my parents and being a taxi to my boys.

Friday

When: 7:32 AM

What? My trusty morning bagel with butter 

How did I feel? Hungry. Like super early morning stomach growling hungry. 

Precipitating event: pouring the first cup of coffee.  Ahhhhh...

Ahhhh....home at last.

When: 7:00 PM

What: 1 bratwurst, 1 piece of garlic bread, tortilla chips and salsa. 

How did I feel? Tired. Glad to finally be home. Hungry. Still rather hurried because I still had things to do. 

Precipitating event: I got off work, helped a friend look at a house, then drove home, thinking I still needed to go to Walmart, take the boys to the movie, stop by Mama and Daddy's, and drop off some money at a house. 

Whew! That's a lot. Still a lot to do. Thankfully, Noelle said she would take the boys, and I can reschedule the other stuff until tomorrow morning. 

So, yes. I finally get to sit. 

Day 7: A song that reminds me of an event

I'm not sure if there are words to describe what the LOTR trilogy of movies meant to our family.  They were a part of our Christmas season for the years they were released and even now, we try to watch them over the holiday season.  The release of Return of the King was an event.  It was anticipated, planned, and scheduled.  Sitting in the theatre and watching this beautiful story draw to its conclusion was both exhilarating and heartbreaking.  I want the faithfulness of Sam.  I want the courage of Merry and Pippin.  I want the woman's strength of Eowyn who is able to do what no man could do.

Do you remember sitting in the dark and watching the portraits of the cast?  Do you remember the beauty of haering Annie Lennox sing "Into the West" for the first time?  I do.  I will never forget.  It was an event; the end of an era.  There was a feeling of not knowing what to do next.



I will forever be thankful for sharing those stories with my children.  They are a part of our family culture.  Stories of faith, courage, strength, everything that is good and right and true.

Day 6: A song that reminds me of somewhere

Tokens Radio Show

Lipscomb University

Nashville, Tennessee



Thankful for a God who knows when each sparrow falls and for a God who created music and shared it with us.

Be at peace.  God is good.

Day 5: A song that reminds me of someone

Every song reminds me of someone.

Every song.

Music is the language of my soul and people are my energy, my reason, my soul's home.

Every song.

So instead of one song that reminds me of one person, I'm going to choose a song for each of my children.

First, for my Becca.  You made me a mom.  You filled a place in my heart.  You got the best of me because I was young, idealistic, and full of energy, but you also got the worst of me because I hadn't learned to be patient or to lighten up on those ideals. For you? One Girl Revolution.

 

For my Noelle?  You changed us from a couple with a baby into a family.  You were energy and power from the first minute you were born.  You help us remember to have fun, and you wear your heart on your sleeve.  You love deeply.  You are stronger than you know.  For you? Anthem.

 

For Em?  Your courage and strength amaze me.  Your focus and determination are unmatched.  You challenged me to meet one of the largest obstacles of my life and you gave me courage to realize that I was worth it.  That I didn't have to be afraid or alone.  For you?  Neko Case's Afraid.



Caleb, you are my first son.  My big old boy/man with a heart of gold.  You've faced challenges that most of us don't have to consider until we are older, and you haven't allowed them to harden you.  Your love for music and people is dear to my heart and I am amazed by the man you are becoming.  For you?  A song that speaks to the trials of life in a way that makes them beautiful and fun and is born from the stringed instruments that you love so much.  Man of Constant Sorrow.



And Daniel?  Your calm, observant spirit helps me remember to listen before I speak.  It isn't easy to be the youngest child in a big family, but you do the job and do it well.  You love Japan, video games, grunge rock from the 90s and you're becoming a real pro on the stage.  You are teachable, which may be the most important quality of all.  My song for you is Smells Like Teen Spirit -- only a much cooler version.

 

These may not be the songs you would have chosen for yourself, but they remind me of you for a variety of reasons.  More than anything, know that you are loved and I am thankful that we all share a love of music, even when we don't always agree on what music we love.

Can't lie.

Sitting here under a quilt doing next to nothing is still one of my very favorite things to do. 

I'm giving myself nine more minutes of nothing and then I'm going outside to clean out a couple of cars because it's a beautiful day. 

I guess even I have my introvert moments.