Five Favorite Types of Friends

Of all the joys in this life, friends are one of the most treasured. When I considered what "favorites" to write about today, I thought of the types of friends I've known in my little life. I've loved every one. I'm pretty sure you'll recognize these, too, from your own life.

1. The Adventurer - You want to go for a night run and try out those headlamps you never saw a use for? This is the friend you call, and this is the friend who will say yes. And it's not all about your ideas, she is a good leader who devises her own fun plans and brings everyone along. You're glad to be one of those who gets to join in. Key words in this friendship: road trip; crazy project; I'm in; we can do it.
2. The Old Friend - Chances are you went through puberty together, and the friendship that can survive those hormones is built to last. She knows all of your old boyfriends and keeps the stories to herself. You call her mother "mom" and she does the same because really, you spent as much time at her house as your own. This friendship has been through so many years and experiences that it is strong and true and you can rely on it. Also, this friend can cheer the loudest for your accomplishments and virtues because she knows first-hand what you've gone through in life. 
3. The Honest Friend - It's in her nature to tell the truth, even when it might be tough to hear. Everyone should have at least one friend who will speak up when things aren't right. Also, it's a tremendous relief not to have to wonder what she's thinking - she will tell you!
4. The Neighbor Friend - She's the one there drinking wine on your driveway. She lives close enough to see plenty of what's going on in your life and having her "in your business" is a good thing. Because of proximity, she's looking out for you. She's the best candidate for impromptu walks and bonus! - you can borrow things right out of her pantry when necessary.
5. The Best Friend - This is the one they write songs about. Despite the superlative "best," you can have more than one, especially the older you get. You don't have to clean your house for her, nor she for you. If you're pregnant, get a scary diagnosis, feel depressed, mark a victory, or just feel like talking for no reason at all - this is the friend you call.

Read more Five Favorites at Mama Knows, Honeychild

Ten Ways to Combat Writer's Block*

1. imitate a pine tree
2. breathe in through your nose and then try making your first YouTube video
3. say "no" to oceanography
4. eat an apple backwards
5. write one haiku for each year old you are
6. dip your feet into a public fountain
7. chaperone a middle-school dance
8. try Vegemite
9. gain weight
10. tour more academies

*Make fun if you will. Spewing random thoughts is a good release. So is posting a selfie with no makeup. No, I haven't been drinking. But full disclosure: I had popcorn for dinner. Things are going downhill the longer my hubby is away at Boy Scout Camp.

It Is Good ... That I Heard About The Edel Gathering

I missed a party. It happened in Austin, Texas over this past weekend and it was the kind of good time I am MADE for. It was a bunch of Catholic women (many/most of them bloggers) gathering to encourage each other and have fun. It was a conference, of sorts, in that there were speakers and vendors. But it was a party in that there was dancing, karaoke, and wine. It was called The Edel Gathering.

Over the past couple days, I've been watching posts appear on numerous blogs sharing about how it all went. It was a momentous event. Two women envisioned it, many came together to pull it off, and it was a smashing success. Two things stand out from all of the enormously wonderful things I've read so far:

1. One of the co-founders, Hallie Lord, gave the opening address and the words that the Holy Spirit gave her to lead with were, "It is Good That You Are Here." (Follow that link to read Hallie's own explanation for how God emphasized those words. It's goose-bump kinda stuff.) Women came to the gathering with all of their usual "issues" but were affirmed for doing so. And then they realized that with the strength gained from attending, they could go home and live their vocations as mothers with renewed passion and courage.
2. "The Edel Gathering was meant to help us feel less alone." - These are the words of co-founder Jennifer Fulwiler in her post about what she learned at the event. If that had been all I heard about the conference - if there hadn't been a single sparkling photograph of all the fun or a Twitter feed-full of highlights - I would have bought the airplane and conference tickets based solely on this statement.

I need to be re-charged! I love to party with Catholic women! (Any member of our parish moms' group can attest to that.) I often feel lonely in my vocation and I know from many other women that this is common. So the point of this post is to share The Edel Gathering and its fruit with others. And to ask, "Please, God, can I go next year?"

Just a Few Words on a Night Out With a Six Year-Old

You have enough on your plate. I'm not going to tell you that the secret to perfect parenting is taking your kids on individual dates on a regularly scheduled basis. But if one night all the other members of your family are occupied, why not do something special? So far this has happened for John and I once every six and three-quarters years, so no pressure!

We had a fun night. Here's my advice when you get the chance to take out a kid one-on-one:

Be flexible! I know John loves burgers, so I recommended Five Guys Burgers & Fries. We showed up, he ordered a hot dog. For the record, he said it was really good and I tried it. It WAS really good.

Be generous! If a kid wants gummy worms, gummy bears, lychee, cookie dough bites and M&Ms on his self-serve frozen yogurt, go with it. What's the worst that can happen? Don't answer that.

Laugh! When we walked into Five Guys Burgers & Fries after talking about it all day long and repeating the name a dozen or more times because the rhyme is catchy, apparently - this kid looked around for half a second and asked, "Okay, what do they have here?"

Listen. In a short time, I won't remember what it was like to have a six year-old son. I tried really hard to listen to all of his chattering and to look into his eyes and connect. It wasn't easy -- that kid wiggles a lot even when he doesn't have to pee - but I tried.

Run! I'm certain my kids' future therapists are going to reveal that their mother loved them through food. Five Guys Burgers & Fries will come up, as will the five-topping yogurt. So I added a park visit to our night out, and we ran and played and managed the dog and rolled down a grass hill and chased mourning doves who were miffed that we bothered them, and dug in the sand volleyball court and swung on the swing. Then, back at home covered in sweat, I let him jump in the pool for an after-bedtime night swim in his underwear. Only stuffy adults go out for dinner and dessert and call it a date. Run! Chase birds! You'll be glad you did and so will your kid.

What is it with Chicago?

Somehow - it doesn't make sense - four different friends of mine are visiting Chicago right now. They are posting photos on Facebook and blogging and texting. I, on the other hand, am home in super-hot Las Vegas daydreaming about ... well ... Chicago. [Editor's Note: Why Chicago? I don't know. I don't really have a thing for Chicago, but I couldn't help but notice when all these different people who don't even know each other were heading off to visit there at the same time. In order to raise my jealousy to all-time heights, everyone I know would suddenly have to be vacationing in Denver. Or Portland. But Chicago's nothing to spit at and my jealousy isn't ultra-finicky.]

This morning I was feeling HIGHLY sorry for myself and if you can drive a car in a mopey fashion, I was doing so on the way to Mass. In my head, I sounded like Eeyore the sad donkey from Winnie the Pooh: "Everyone else is in Chicago. I'm stuck at home. Kevin's away at scout camp but I'm here hanging out with the dishwasher and three-fourths of our children."

I tried to have a mature little talk with myself. The top lecture headlines going through my mind were predictable, I'm sure you've heard many of them yourself:

1. Don't Compare Yourself to Others
2. God Has a Plan for You Right Where You Are
3. Be Grateful!
4. Chicago Sucks! Who Wants to Go to Chicago Anyway?
5. Life is Good! You Have Nothing to Complain About!

The lectures weren't super-effective, but listen to what happened in the afternoon: A friend texted and asked if she and her kids could come swimming. (Heck yeah!) I invited another friend and her family to join in. (They came!) My exceptionally fantastic next-door neighbors contributed to the joy by sharing with me a helping of the prawns they made for dinner. (Delicioso!)

Almost everyone was in the pool later when heavy gray clouds got more ominous-looking and thunder and lightning boomed and lit up the sky enough that some of the kids were starting to freak out. (One full-grown adult may have contributed to this after a particularly close lightning strike by using the words "everyone could die.") Our group of friends, six adults and eleven children strong by this point, moved inside. The party went on for another couple hours. Kids ran wild in damp bathing suits, adults gathered around the table talking and laughing. Outside, the rain poured. Not once did I think about Chicago. Not even once.

I have issues, it's true. I need to work on my perspective, and truth be told I probably do need a vacation. But more valuable than a vacation is a great group of friends. Throw in a desert thunderstorm, a neighbor's good cooking, a tasty beer, laughter, and super-happy kids and Chicago isn't necessary anymore.






*Photo credit - AA, PVdR, KE - thanks to good friends who responded to my call for photos 

The Mustache and the Kazoo

I got into my mini-van today and noticed a fake mustache on the floor in front of the passenger seat. I thought it was kind of novel so I started looking around to see what else I might find and discovered a green kazoo and a few pistachio shells.

Something about those three random objects made me think about where I am in my parenting life. There used to be a day when I would have seen Cheerios and sippy cups on the floor at any given time. Diaper wipes. A baby shoe. But not anymore. My kids have graduated from the baby/toddler/little kid era and have moved on. Why do I seem to be lagging behind them? My youngest is six, which means he hasn't been in diapers for three years, almost four. He can do nearly everything on his own now. But every now and then I still catch myself being surprised when I'm just sitting in a chair at home or at a social event and my kids are functioning quite nicely without my help.

Does this happen to everyone? This failure to realize when your parenting enters a new era? There were SO many intense years of sleep deprivation, diaper changes, chasing toddlers, cutting food into kid-sized bites at meals, butt-wiping, etc. Now there are days when one of the kids MAKES LUNCH FOR EVERYONE. Or bakes a batch of cookies without my input. They do their own hair, chores, and packing for trips. It's so weird.

I admit. I'm having some moments of "what do I do with myself?" Things seem too easy. Not that there aren't new challenges, but it is different and less labor-intensive. I'm afraid that this is a precursor to empty nest syndrome. What is THAT like? You get home from taking the last kid to college and the house is empty and quiet and how many fewer loads of laundry a week will that be?

You don't have to tell me to get a life. I have plenty of interests and hobbies and identity outside of parenting, although none quite as consuming or rewarding. But there is this weird stillness all of a sudden since the kids have gotten a little older. It's like silence after a noise you'd gotten used to. It's not a bad thing, it's just different. I may have to put on the mustache and play that kazoo to keep from getting melancholy.

Nightstand's Piling Up

I have criticized people before for reading more than one book simultaneously. But suddenly there is this PILE by my bedside!

Journey to the Center of the City, by Randy White because I wanted to recall the story of his family moving into inner-city Fresno and what a difference it made to the neighborhood and in their lives. All the social justice concerns we had as college students have seemed trickier to keep up with and that makes me sad. Perhaps I'm trying to shake myself a little.

Tweet Naked, by Scott Levy, because I have a huge crush on social media. I want to know it better and delve into my fantasy that one day I will use it to encourage and minister to more people.

Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell. The back of the book sucked me in where it said, "we should look at the world that surrounds the successful - their culture, their family, their generation, and the idiosyncratic experiences of their upbringing." Amen, we should! We should spend lifetimes analyzing this stuff! Man I wanna sit around researching and writing and talking about it. I guess that's called a Master's Degree.

John Adams, by David McCullough. I'm absorbing every word of this biography. I can't bear not to underline multiple passages every few pages - passages describing who this man was and how he worked, especially little glimpses of insecurity. God, it's comforting that this great figure was "miserably unsure of himself" and had "acute anguish" from time to time. I don't mean to glory in his weakness, but I find it a tremendous relief. We all have a chance!

The Holy Bible. I try to keep this one near me at all times. It saves me. Convicts me. Wipes away my tears and gives me hope. Plus I'm tight with the author so I got that going for me.

My journal. I opened it up to see what I wrote last and it was in June. "Strategies for Self-Control." Intriguing. I'm going to guess this pertains to my yelling but I can't recall the source of the note or the reason for the entry. And it was only a month ago. Sheez Louise. I'm slipping.

102 Ways to Earn Money Writing 1,500 Words or Less, by I.J. Schecter. You all know how well this is going. I better keep reading! And writing.

Five Favorites from Pico to Puzzles

-1-

Pico!

I'm far too critical of myself in the kitchen, but every once in a while there's something good to say. This week I made pico de gallo! It was a fun and fulfilling time at the counter cutting ingredients into small pieces. I might have gotten a tiny glimpse into how this food-making thing appeals to so many folks. I for SURE enjoyed eating the fruits vegetables of my labor!

-2-

Summer Surprises

For all the hellish hotness around here (it was about 109 degrees today), Summer in Vegas brings its unexpected joys. This butterfly is one of them. I'd also add snow cones, swimming pools, iced coffee, early morning walks, and the occasional cloudy day.

-3-

Cake!

A July birthday in the Mojave Desert means two things: my birth mom was hardy, and ice cream cake is called for. Here I am with my four kids and a treat from Baskin-Robbins. My oldest son will probably pass me up in height by my next birthday, his tallness exceeded only by the cheesiness of his grin for this photo.

-4-

Home Improvement

Second only to my own home-improvement projects are the projects of friends. Look at this superb floor, installed to replace WHITE carpet, which has no business in households with children. This is the home of a close friend and neighbor and it was interesting to hear about the project as it progressed. It was especially notable because it was a community effort involving several other friends and providing stories and memories to relish.

-5-

Puzzles

I love jigsaw puzzles, and splurged on two with a gift card from my parents. This was the smaller of the two, and lots of fun, though completed too quickly. I think I'll do it again and again and when I tire of putting it together I'll glue and frame it and hang it up somewhere to remember this summer.

Happily linked up with Mama Knows, Honeychild

Castles

I recently read a fiction novel set largely in and around castles. It has made my imagination run wild. What's it like to live in a castle? (Or, what WAS it like?) What was it like to build one? What are the rooms like where you sleep? Eat? Dance? Behead people?

In true researcher fashion, I ran right out to my local bookstore a couple weeks ago and bought a book about castles. In bed that night, I studied every page, entranced by the photographs and learning a bit from the descriptions. But the next day I took the book back because it kinda sucked. There were no photos of the interiors of the castles. And no explanations! I don't know what a "keep" is! Isn't there a "Castles for Dummies" book? I need it!

If I can't get what I want from a book I'm not sure exists anyway, I need to arrange a tour. No, not just a tour ... a short-term stay. I'll tell you what I am really hankering for, and you tell me if you know a travel agent who can hook me up.

I'd like to stay in a really old castle run preferably by the SCA, or people like that. I need more than a few nights ... a week, let's say, or a month. And things need to be really authentic - this castle can't have central air or electricity or running water. We will do things on this visit just like they were done centuries ago. I want to walk down hallways with stone walls and floors and ceiling. And I don't want to be cheesy tourist lady with a camera around my neck. I want to be dressed in period clothing. And I want to feel what they felt. What would my shoes be like? My hairdo? My body odor? (I'm pretty sure they didn't bathe quite as often as we do now - but I will learn this all during my stay.) At dinner time, I want to gather in the big ol' dining hall (but they didn't call it a dining hall - what did they call it? --- see? I need a book!) with a bunch of other authentic people from way back then and eat a meal like they would have way back then. After dinner and whatever they do right after dinner, I will retire to my little tower room with a window out to the lands below and go to bed. What sounds would I hear? What would the sheets feel like? Would there be castle critters scurrying about?

Tonight I will go to sleep thinking of this marvelous castle visit I have to look forward to. And this is just the beginning! Wait til you hear how I want to experience New York City! Normandy! The English countryside! Buckingham Palace! Charleston, South Carolina! Alaska! A passenger ship across the Atlantic in 1914! The Oregon Trail!

Purses

How can you NOT overthink your purse selection? You carry it with you every time you go out! You better consider your options, and you better like the thing. Currently, I don't like mine and it is way past time to get a new one. Conveniently, I have some birthday money, so I am trying to find the perfect replacement for the old and inadequate thing I've been carrying around.

The purse pictured above (I took the photo to text to my friend the purse expert) was just the right size and style, but I didn't really want red. Or blue. Or yellow. Or brown, or black, or zebra, leopard, or plaid. I tried to like it. I set it on my shoulder and walked around the store, and when I'd pass a mirror, I'd take a look. It seemed fine. Nothing stellar but not ghastly, either.

There was a nice, soft green one, too, but it was ultra-casual, and once every 238 days - when I dress up - it wouldn't work. I liked a black and white striped one, but it was a shade too fancy and didn't have the straps I want. The bright blue looked like Easter egg dye. The pink screamed, "look at me! I need attention!" I love gray but there were only three gray options there tonight so that tells me I have missed the gray boat - it is no longer "in." Floral makes me think of ugly sofas. And what business does anyone have with a garish orange purse unless they're in the forest trying to not get shot? 

I don't want a huge flap on the front. I need a convenient place to stow my phone. I am dead-set against touting a designer too obviously (a small name plate is acceptable but I do NOT want to see any words or letters or symbols from a distance of more than two feet unless the designer pays ME to carry his or her product.) Ideally, my new handbag needs to be big enough to hold my wallet, phone, and lip gloss but small enough that it doesn't take five minutes to find my car keys. It should have an artistic air, but not scream Bohemia. Be smart but not pretentious, cool without trying too hard, fun but not flippant ... and able to show up for a serious interview over coffee, then get on the plane for a Pearl Jam concert. See what I mean? Am I asking too much?

I didn't get the red purse. It just didn't make me happy. I am not allowed to expect my husband, children, career, friends, or hobbies to make me happy, so doggone it - my purse has to do the job. I have a feeling I'll be shopping for a while.

Seven Quick Takes Friday

-1- 

I signed up for a fruit and vegetable co-op! This is great news because it will force me to prepare and eat some vegetables. Even funnier than the image of me preparing and eating vegetables is the image of me arriving at the co-op pick-up place at 6:45 a.m. on Saturday morning with my tousled hair and laundry basket. The whole thing seems oddly like a punishment of some sort.

-2-

The Edel Gathering! How did I not know about this? Clearly I've head my head buried in the sand. Dangit. Jennifer Fulweiler and Hallie Lord put together this fabulous idea and it happens next weekend. Best. Idea. Ever. It was sold out before I even knew it existed, but NEXT TIME! I'll be there! And I'm bringing 240 of my closest friends!

-3-

Puzzle love - I love puzzles the way I love sugar and, perhaps, tequila. It's a love that has to be controlled. My parents gave me a Barnes & Noble gift card for my birthday and days later this loveliness arrived at my doorstep:

The thousand pieces aren't the challenge. The challenge is not letting the puzzle consume all my time to the detriment of my marriage and mothering. I've been texting a puzzle-loving, long-distance friend and we started new puzzles on the same day. She wrote: "I'm glad I have a puzzle buddy. Sometimes I think it's just me and cat-loving grannies that like puzzles." This gave me an image of myself at age 91 - sitting at a table, working on a puzzle and drinking tequila. I'm not sure if that's utterly depressing or something to look forward to with all my might.

-4-

I'm pleased to report that my curriculum decisions for next year have been made! Next comes the ordering of the materials - wheeee! (recalling grade-school book order joy). Inevitably, this is followed by implementation of the materials. (Sigh.) Why can't the implementation maintain the level of excitement that the choosing and ordering does? Well, maybe I've made SUCH good choices this year it will go swimmingly.

-5-

I'm coming out of a bleak week. Simply, a rough combo of circumstance and mood. And in the middle of it I read about a friend having a theme song. I considered what my theme song would be and came up with "Shake it Out" by Florence and the Machine. Full lyrics here, but the highlights:

And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't

So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road

And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope

The song does a good job of fluctuating between despair and new resolve. My moods do the same thing. I also love how she says, "I like to keep my issues drawn." 

-6-

Half marathon coming up! Whaaaaat?!? My m.o. is to sign up for a race while I'm on a high from a previous race and then months go by and I forget and then something jars me and the dread sets in. But that's why I sign up, because if I didn't have something on the horizon I would curl up and melt into a slothful glob. It's two months away at this point. Gotta up those miles!

-7-

Our backyard project is under way again - after a brief, ten-month hiatus. We removed some flagstone from an old patio, replaced it with rock, and then let the unwanted flagstone sit around gathering spiderwebs for nearly a year. Well, this week a friend came and took the flagstone so now we have no excuse not to get to work! Here's what I've done so far: pulled some weeds by the pool and set out these kinda-pathetic pots to try to get a feel for what I want by our palm tree.

I gravely dislike the look of three empty pots sitting by the pool, and they are light years away from the look I'm hoping to achieve - but who wants to bet they sit there for ten months?



Read the inspiration for this post, and many other great ones over at Conversion Diary!

Orange You A Beauty!

My daughters had a sleepover recently and wanted to "do facials." When I was their age, my idea of a facial was spreading Noxema from ear to ear and braving the burning tingle. 

But this is 2014, so we have the internet. And we don't have Noxema. I searched "easy homemade facial recipes" which led me to a pumpkin facial and then I adapted a little and before you could say "clogged pores," there was this:

I would share the recipe, but you know me- I'm so breezy and confident in the kitchen that I never measure. Haha! But the truth is I couldn't screw this up unless it got too runny and wouldn't stay on their faces so I just tossed stuff in the blender willy nilly and adjusted for thickness (by adding whole oats). Here are ingredients and quantities as near as I recall:

2 cups-ish canned pumpkin

about 1 cup vanilla yogurt

1 cup milk, roughly

1/2 cup honey, more or less

1 cup oats, give or take a little

Put everything in the blender and blend!

Feed any remaining pumpkin to the dog because it's supposed to help with doggy tummy problems.

Now you pour the facial smoothie into little personal bowls for each spa customer:

And then they apply it to face and neck for a delightful and only kinda disgusting edible face mask:

Allow the mask to dry for 20 minutes and then wash face with a warm washcloth. A word to the wise spa owner: clean pumpkin mask spills off the sink area sooner than three days later as the mixture will harden like concrete and you will curse the internet, pumpkin, and your own otherwise willing disposition.

My Best Mom Advice in Rough Times: "Feed and Clothe"

I did okay when I had my first baby. When he napped, I napped. Or showered. Or lounged around eating BonBons. I didn't realize how easy I had it, of course, until I had two. 

With the birth of my second baby, showering and doing errands in particular became super-difficult and I was stymied! 

When baby number three came along I just gave up completely for about a year. It wasn't pretty. I have housekeeping stories involving the cloth-diaper poop-sprayer alone that would rock your world. I really should have taken more photos of my house during that time because now they would be hilarious.

After weeks and months of just trying to feed everyone and keep some clothes clean, I realized this was the key: just try to feed everyone and keep some clothes clean.

To this day, when friends have babies, I share the same priceless bit of advice: just feed everyone and keep some clothes clean! Let the rest go for a while. Believe in God's grace and connect to it as much as possible in order to focus on your baby (or babies, or children) and keep your other responsibilities to a minimum.

If you read this and think: "Wimp! -- I balanced two sets of triplets, a full-time job, my 3,500 square-foot house and kept everything sparkling!"... well, you should write a book and tell all of us how you manage. Or if you're a person who refuses to believe your life or your marriage can go on without regular polishing of the baseboards, for instance - go on polishing! If you're handling it, I ain't gonna stop ya. My "feed and clothe" lecture is for those of us who aren't handling it.

And here's what I've discovered recently - it's not just moms of newborns who need extra grace and the "feed and clothe" minimum. I've found the following circumstances can leave me scrambling, and I am years past having a newborn:

• seasonal transition times - (i.e. the beginning and end of the school year, or when Autumn turns to Winter) 
• job changes 
• illness of any kind, no matter how small
• having houseguests
• holidays and other times that involve extended family
• travel
• marking milestones - even good change is often difficult!

I can usually, though not always, recognize when I'm in the midst of a challenging time. When I do, I remind myself to take it a little easy for a few days, or sometimes weeks (the craziness of Christmas, for instance, requires weeks). "Feed and clothe," I tell myself. "And try to enjoy my kids."

The cool thing about having older kids is that when a tough time comes along, and I resort to "feed and clothe," those older kids get in on the jobs! I wish I could say that with them managing the minimum requirements, I'm able to go back to eating BonBons, but that hasn't happened. And I'm okay with that.

You Know You're in a Bad Mood When ...

... Your "Happy Place" Suddenly Turns Depressing or Terrifying

Do you have a "happy place?" If you're having trouble sleeping, or trying to fend off anxiety in the dentist's chair, or upset about how a meeting went --- do you envision a certain place to calm yourself down, lower your heart rate, and remind you that life isn't always rough? I do. In fact, I have several, because I'm a woman of many moods and not every happy place can serve every mood.

Right now, my mood is dreary enough that none of my happy places are functioning as they should.

Here are brief descriptions of the places which usually bring me such peace and joy, followed by their current malfunctions under the influence of my grumpiness. Delightful!

Happy Place #1: Ivar's Acres of Clams in Seattle - whenever life isn't treating me well here in the Nevada desert, I can go to my happy place at a window table at Ivar's. I'm sitting eating a bowl of clam chowder and looking out past the boats at Puget Sound. It's dreamy. Even saying "Puget Sound" makes me happy! Imagine gazing at it! And after I eat my chowder, I will walk home in the light rain to my cottage (also with a view of the Sound) and work on my novel, which has been paid for in advance by my generous and admiring publisher.

Today's Problem: The chowder is cold, my server is grouchy - almost irate - because his girlfriend just dumped him, and a dreadful oil tanker accident has rendered the water in the Sound black and murky.

Happy Place #2: A golden meadow from a hike in my childhood memory - It is so gorgeous it will make your eyes sing opera. Sunlight floats over the green grasses and wildflowers and the entire scene is framed by Aspen trees with their noble and pretty white trunks.

Today's Problem: I just got bitten by a rare spider that was crouching in the green grass seemingly waiting to get a taste of me. Its poison is starting to make me dizzy and I just overheard someone say "no help for miles." I'm as good as dead.

Happy Place #3: Barnes & Noble Bookstore at The Grove in Los Angeles - all three stories of it! In this happy place, I have hours and hours to spend meandering and searching through the books. Whenever I find a book I want to read or look at, a giant pillow appears at my feet and I can sit and relax and peruse to my heart's content.

Today's Problem: I'm reading a best-selling book written by my ninth-grade boyfriend, who, when I knew him, couldn't have written one coherent paragraph. Gradually, I realize the store is dark and monsters and velociraptors have been set loose on all three floors. And they've caught my scent.

Monday

Looked into a freelance job. I have too many questions I can't seem to get answered.

Went to Barnes and Noble with my birthday gift card. The puzzle I was so excited to get was sold out.

Made chow mein from scratch. Didn't turn out great.

Made an a$$ of myself on eBay.

Am watching Kevin and friends load up flagstone. Should be helping but instead I'm complaining to you.

A fun trip we planned for a long time got canceled today. I was looking forward to music, old friends, cool birds, and a visit to a brand new coffee shop. Totally depressed.

No idea in the universe how I'm going to buy curriculum for three kids for next year.

A/C repairmen and pool repair guy both had to come today.

My sunburn hurts.

I kinda thought the birthday joy might last a little longer, but no.

I Can Sum it All Up With Cabinet Knobs

It's the eve of my 44th birthday and I spent time today reflecting on the past year and considering goals and hopes for the next one. I totally "over-thunk" it and came up with three handwritten pages of highlights and disappointments, favorite events and lessons learned since last July 13th. It was - as the cool kids are saying - epic. 

My keen intuition tells me that not everyone wants to read all the contents of those three pages. So I spent additional time trying to encapsulate the 365-day period.

And this is what I came up with: Cabinet Knobs. 

We purchased and installed these during the time I was age 43. Cabinet knobs, like the days of my past year, are fun and colorful and sucked a bit of money out of our bank account. Many have meaning in their color and design that wouldn't be readily apparent to outsiders. I needed Kevin's help with cabinet knobs and my daily life alike, and the kids had a lot to do with the arrangement of both. Although plenty of friends visited my house, only a few noticed the new knobs and commented. In the same way, of the many friends who blessed my life this year, only a few really took time to listen and get to know me more truly. The cabinet knobs, like my days, have been artistic, creative, whimsical, and practical. They're like the days of my life in one more way, too - they are well-installed and should be around for a while, but they won't last forever.

7 Quick Takes Friday

--- 1 ---

I went bowling tonight at a charity tournament for "Water for People." It was a great cause and we hung out with fun people. But it was clear that I was surrounded by good bowlers, and I am NOT a good bowler. So I was a little nervous and started having a talk with myself as I walked up to take my turn the second or third time. "Drop the perfectionism. No one cares if you're a pro-bowler. Just have fun and a good attitude." And then I interjected: "Wouldn't it be funny if you gave yourself this talk about relaxing and enjoying the game and not worrying about your score or how bad you are and then you got a strike?" --- And then I got a strike. It was awesome.

--- 2 ---

Just found out an adopted friend put a few thousand dollars into a private investigator to find her birth parents and it worked! This would be more compelling information if I had a few thousand dollars. I often dare myself to write up one of those posters you see on Facebook where a person is searching for his or her birth parents. "My name is Lulabelle Frankenhort and I was born on May 22, 1984 in Des Moines, Iowa at Alpsview Hospital. Please share this post and help me find my birthparents! Even if one of them DOES need a kidney."

--- 3 ---

Montages make me cry. Doesn't matter the subject matter. You could create a montage on orthodontia and put it to the right music and I'd be sobbing. This may or may not have happened today at the end of our parish VBS.

--- 4 ---

Just for fun torture, I looked at a couple hundred properties for sale in the Seattle area on Realtor.com last night. There was one that called my name. It had a billion windows and an expansive deck and a writing room with a perfect space on the wall for a drawing of Charles Dickens. It was on an acre of land overlooking Puget Sound and it was so green and lush that it made my heart and my eyes and my soul ache to move there immediately. Then today I drove the mile to my church to hang out with about a dozen great people who know me and my kids and have for years and we laughed and cried and talked about ministry and family ... and I will never get out of Vegas.

--- 5 ---

My son and his team at Robotics Camp took third place in the camp competition today! I'm so proud! And so deliriously amused that life has led us to things like Robotics Camp!

--- 6 ---

Here I am today with my daughters and youngest son. I had so much fun with them and the other hundred kids at VBS this week - and especially with the church staff and volunteers who made the week happen.

--- 7 ---

Today in the midst of VBS, an appreciation luncheon, a photo shoot for a magazine(!), a charity bowling tournament, and a quick late-night Target run, I missed one of my favorite things: Free Slurpee Day at 7-11 on the occasion of 7-11! Darnit! Well, I hope someone out there had a pina colada Slurpee for me!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

This is My 700th Post - That Counts for Something

I wrote the first post on this blog August 26, 2008. Granted, there was a whole blog before that which I deleted haphazardly - as I sometimes do things haphazardly - but let's try not to think about that. As far as THIS blog goes, I've written 700 posts as of today.

I'm looking forward to seeing what God might have in store for my future. If it's 700 more posts over a couple more years, that's something. If it's the wherewithal to eventually write a book, I'd be great with that too.

Confession is Good for the Soul - And Some Part of Me Should be Healthy!

My sweet friend Heather just posted "35 Zucchini Recipes" on Facebook. THIRTY-FIVE? I need one. Actually, one might be pushing it. What is zucchini, again?

This is the post that will guarantee kharmatically that I get cancer. And probably lose a few friends and alienate some relatives. But I can't stay silent any longer! I have to confess!

I hate cooking! There are already underused cookbooks in my cupboard, and now on top of that I see the plethora of recipes on Pinterest and Facebook and hear about all these successful cooking blogs, celebrity chefs and shows where people stand around and COOK! I'd almost rather watch people stand around and do TRIGONOMETRY!

I hate gardening! I will still very happily tour your garden, listen to your gardening efforts and stories, and smile when you show me how you remove those wormy things from the leaves (ew!). But I do not want to build a garden, plant a garden, water or weed or maintain a garden in any way or really even EAT most of what comes out of a garden. I am still a nice person. I still think it is the coolest thing ever that my sister-in-law takes her blender jar out to her garden on Summer mornings and harvests her breakfast smoothie on the spot. But I don't want to do it.

I hate ALL Facebook posts that sound anything like any of the following:

• Twelve Reasons You Need to Drink Lemon Vinegar Almond Curd Every Morning
• Ten Things You Should NEVER Order at Fast-Food Restaurants If You're Stupid Enough to Go to A Fast-Food Restaurant in the First Place
• Here's Another Reason To Worry About That Box of Breakfast Cereal
• How to Lose Weight and Keep Your House Rodent-Free With This One Natural Ingredient

I looooooove Wendy's Spicy Chicken Sandwiches, Arby's roast beef, and McDonald's french fries.

I once kept a shoebox full of granulated sugar hidden under my bed. If I wasn't afraid of ant invasion, I probably still would.

There. I feel better. Or at least my soul does. Clearly my body isn't getting enough vegetables.

30-Second Read: Dog Poop Humility

There was dog poop (not belonging to my dog) in my driveway the other day and my first reaction was disgust, followed closely by anger. But, thanks to all the stories I've read of super-suffering and humble saints, I quickly saw the poop as an opportunity! Service! Humility!

I will clean up this poop with a bright heart and a shiny-happy countenance and I will whistle a tune. Just like St. Faustina in her diary, I will say, "Help me, O Lord, that my hands may be merciful and filled with good deeds, so that I may do only good to my neighbors and take upon myself the more difficult and toilsome tasks."

But then I got a bunch of the poop smeared on my hand and under my fingernails and the efforts toward humility were drained from my soul and I stomped around muttering various threats and cuss words just under my breath.

St. Faustina asked God to fill her hands with good deeds. Mine were filled with dog poop. I suppose when I can more clearly see how these can be the same thing, I will be one step closer to sainthood. One giant step.

Five Things I've Learned About Leading a Catholic Moms' Group

1) We really need each other.

A huge part of the reason my friend Kristi and I wanted to start a moms' group at our parish in the first place was because we were in need of friendship with other Catholic moms. I was new to Catholicism and had four young children, one of whom was a newborn, so there were all kinds of things I wanted help with - both faith-related and mothering-related. I yearned for a place I could grow in my faith, ask questions when I needed to, AND find solace in the throes of potty training.

At our planning meeting, I passed out a questionnaire to find out about the wants and needs of the little group that was forming. Each woman had different ideas and questions, but every one said she hoped to meet other moms. Introvert or extrovert, working or stay-at-home, one child or six, Filipino or Mexican, black or white, cradle Catholic or convert, we moms need other moms in our lives.

2) Many will come for the friendship and stay for the Jesus.

I've had enough conversations over the years to know that some of the thinking goes like this: "I don't really need any more church stuff, I just want to meet other moms." Or: "I guess I can listen to them talk about the Real Presence because that one lady makes amazing brownies." Oddly, though, the closer we get to each other in a place where Jesus is at the center of the activity, the more open we become to growing in our relationships to not just each other, but Him.

3) You can minister to a group of stay-at-home moms and working moms in the same room.

For all of the potential conflict that exists in Mom-Land, (natural birth vs. meds; bottle vs. breast; organic food vs. Pop Tarts;) one of the most sensitive is between the working mom and the stay-at-home mom. You can detect this on TV, in books, and on social media. But guess what? In six years of leading this moms' group that has a pretty even amount of both kinds of moms, I have found the spiritual needs of both to be fairly similar, if not exactly the same. True, one might think she's more tired than the other, and they dress a little different, but they're going through almost all the same experiences in their mothering, their marriages, and their spiritual journeys.

4) It may be easier to discuss the Church's teachings on contraception with a glass of wine in your hand.

Not every Catholic woman embraces or even understands what our Church has to say about openness to life, sexual morality, Confession, divorce, annulments, preparation for the sacraments, the priesthood, or the authority of the Pope. Because I am still a relatively new Catholic, these topics are often at the forefront in my thinking, especially when I'm around other Catholics. I want to talk! I want to poll everyone! I want to ask questions! Not everyone wants to discuss this stuff, but most do - and it goes over even better when you can find a comfy place to sit and sip a glass of wine, or beer, or a really large margarita. Sometimes it doesn't even take alcohol. One of the best discussions about contraception that I've been a part of took place years ago over frozen yogurt, and then morphed into a book group and we all learned a lot.

5) Partnership in ministry is so much more effective and fun than doing it solo.

I would not have started the moms' group alone. I never could have kept it going if so many wonderful women hadn't come along and joined in the effort. Because we all have busy lives and hordes of children between us, sometimes the scheduling didn't work and I scrambled to assemble the content for a meeting by myself. Those were depressing times. When I have a good idea, a partner can make it even better. When I'm stuck or clueless or lazy, a partner pulls me through, helps me plan, and motivates me.

What a joy to reflect on the wisdom I've gained from these treasured years. Many of my best friends were made in our moms' group, and it has given me a trillion good memories. Thanks be to God that He showed me my need for community all those years ago.

Merry Fourth!

I've often said the Fourth of July is my favorite holiday because it is so low-maintenance. Holidays like Christmas and New Years have so much build-up and so many high expectations they are difficult to survive. In order to sort out my feelings on the topic, I'm going to compare and contrast the Fourth of July with Christmas.

Fourth of July: Friends

Christmas: Family, and that includes Grandpa Lou who starts drinking shortly after dawn

Fourth of July: Fireworks

Christmas: Presents for everyone, even the bug guy and the neighbors who just moved in and Great-Aunt Elda who never wants anything but you have to get something anyway

Fourth of July: Star-Spangled Banner

Christmas: Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer

Fourth of July: Grilled meat

Christmas: Figgy pudding. Or a Turducken.

Fourth of July: Red, white, and blue matching t-shirts for the whole family

Christmas: New suits and fancy dresses for the whole family except for little Junior who refuses to wear anything but his Batman costume

Fourth of July: The Declaration of Independence

Christmas: Jesus

Fourth of July: Pinterest desserts in patriotic colors. Pinterest decorations indoors and out.

Christmas: Pinterest recipes for desserts in red and green, Pinterest crafts, Pinterest Santa treats, Pinterest ornaments, Pinterest manger scenes, Pinterest blueprints for snow forts, Pinterest holiday diets, Pinterest patterns for handmade stockings, Pinterest list of "100 Must-Keep Christmas Traditions."

Fourth of July: Sweltering heat and profuse sweating at the hometown parade

Christmas: Church

Fourth of July: Go to bed to the sounds of neighborhood incendiaries and bombs bursting in air

Christmas: Go to bed aware of either the peace and silence of falling snow or the cat romping in torn wrapping paper or Grandpa Lou passed out and snoring in the hallway

I Could've Warned Them

My brother and sister-in-law, James and Rachel, are super-athletic and outdoorsy folks who do things like cross-country ski to a remote yurt for FUN. Their home gym takes up a whole floor of their house. And they buy Christmas presents for each other like crampons and rain kilts for all-weather hiking.

So last year they went on this big ol' hike to the Middle Teton. They went with their good friend Mac, who is a guide and the director of a university outdoor rec department. They camped at the trailhead the night before and woke up at three o'clock in the morning to begin the fourteen-mile hike with 6,000 feet of elevation gain. They got caught in a thunderstorm well into the day and had to stop hiking and stay low to avoid being struck by lightning. This was a 90-minute hold-up. But that kind of thing happens to seasoned hikers all the time and they know how to handle it and how to stay safe. Plus they are well-prepared and have good gear. Once the storm passed, it was a satisfying ascent and they were thrilled to make the summit.

On the way down, Rachel was not looking forward to crossing the snow fields. She felt ill-prepared despite the time they had spent learning and practicing self-arresting with an ice-axe at the beginning of the day. During a pep talk given by James as they carefully crossed the ice, Rachel slipped and fell and careened down a 50-foot long, 60-degree slope. She hit the rocks at a frightening speed and James said he was thinking that she was going to have a lot of broken bones. He was terrified. So was Rachel. She tried to do the things she'd been taught in order to slow a fall, but nothing was working. At the bottom, she hit the rocks, jumped up and shouted, "I'm okay!" Mac had descended the slope ahead of her, and was by her side in seconds. He had to ask her to sit down so he could check for broken bones and he was concerned she might pass out from shock. James was at her side not too long after Mac. He slid down the ice feet first and stomach down probably almost as fast as Rachel in her uncontrolled fall. And here's the part of the story that I can't quit thinking about -- James was in a panic and he immediately started asking, "Why did this happen? What went wrong?" In fact, he repeated this line of questioning uncontrollably enough that Mac asked him to take a breath and try to sit down.

I keep repeating that question to myself, incredulously: Why did this HAPPEN? Are you KIDDING me? Let me answer that. You were climbing over ice on a mountain that was treacherous enough to require helmets and fancy shoes and a sharp axe but the shoes and the axe didn't work and Rachel fell! DUH.

Are you like my brother? Do you trust your equipment and expect things to go well? Are you surprised when things go wrong?

Or are you like me? Here is what I might have said if I had been at the bottom of the slope:

"OH MY GOD! I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN! I KNEW IT!"

I knew the equipment would fail and someone would slip. Except I really didn't. But in my mind, the fear is so strong that often, when I complete adventures or even daily tasks unharmed it is quite a surprise. Wow! I made it off the mountain alive! I got to my car without being attacked in the parking lot! No one kidnapped my child at the beach! You get the picture. I don't know that I can ever learn to fully believe that things don't always turn out tragically. For me, the key is to keep on doing things even when they involve risk. Not crazy risk, but enough to keep life interesting. I'd rather be surprised by success than doomed and confined to my house by the fear of failure.

Happy Couple? Trying!

Look at this happy-looking couple. This photo was taken last month on the morning of our 16th wedding anniversary. I posted it on Facebook and I hoped people saw it and thought, "Gosh! Teri's hair looks cute!" and "Wow! Aren't they the poster couple for fabulous marriages? I want to be more like them!" But I try not to lie all the time, so I'll confess that while yes, my hair does turn out cute sometimes, I don't qualify to be a part of a fabulous-marriage poster couple. At least not over the past couple of years.

Since April of 2012, we've had some circumstances in our lives that have caused a lot of stress and anxiety and we have dealt with them by arguing, fighting, yelling, using the silent treatment, threatening, despairing, going on anti-depressants, having another drink, overeating, complaining to friends, manipulating, and putting on brave faces to cover the murderous rage. I think we owe it to our stubbornness and senses of humor that I sit here tonight writing this post to offer some encouragement for other not-quite-fabulous couples along with a list of what has been helping.

If your marriage is less than perfect, here is my encouragement for you:

You're not alone, I swear. Someone is going through the exact same thing you are. Maybe worse. Maybe involving drugs or jail time or a worse upbringing than yours. But it's a true statement: you're not alone. If people weren't so afraid to share their struggles, they would be a lot better off and so would we all. Maybe you can work toward that by being more honest yourself. You'd be surprised at the things people will share once you've been honest about your own crap. And then everybody feels better.

It's worth it. It is worth a tremendous amount of sacrifice, a lot of hard work, any amount of money, and as many tears as it takes to attain a good marriage. It is better to be in a good marriage than a bad marriage. And it's better to be in a good marriage than to be divorced. No one in the world can argue with these two statements. So it's worth it to do what it takes to get into a good marriage. Don't sit around miserable hoping things will eventually change on their own. They won't. You'll just continue in your bad marriage and eventually one of you will leave or you will grow old together but separate and WHY DO THAT IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? I have a friend going through a divorce right now. Of all the reasons I've heard for divorce, most of them stink, but not hers. And even with a good reason for the divorce, the whole process is heart-wrenching and awful and if she could have worked out the problems and stayed married, she would have.

What I've learned After These Rough Two+ Years:

1) Go to God. Keep going to church. If you are Catholic, keep receiving the sacraments of the Eucharist and Confession. Keep praying. I often find myself in bed at night feeling bleak. I don't like how the day went, I don't like how we fought, I don't like what my kids witnessed. When I stop the guilt feelings and cry out in prayer for my husband, my kids, and myself - I swear to you that God helps me. There is no fairy dust, no miraculous apology right then, no visible change at all - but my heart finds peace and the dust seems to settle and hope sneaks back into my heart. It is such a relief.

2) Get professional help. Find a counselor. Read a self-help book together. Buy a CD series that attacks the issues you're dealing with. It's like when my kids were little and I was new to mothering and one of them would get sick. I was a frantic, anxious mess. I was convinced my child was going to die or be permanently damaged. And then I'd call the doctor. Somehow, having that third party involved - the pediatrician - was such a relief. Kevin and I are having weekly counseling sessions right now. It gives us hope to have someone else involved. We have employed a professional! -- this has to get better now, right? Well, it has potential. Next to God, our counselor is the best thing we've got going on right now.

3) Apologize. I suck at this, but I can still offer it as advice without being a hypocrite because I am practicing. And as much as I hate being wrong and admitting it, I have to say that it does a tremendous amount of good. Grow up and get humble and be willing to admit when you're wrong - even when you can't stand it! Sometimes my apologies cause me more tears than the problems we're having. They hurt my pride and my security. But I can see the good they do for Kevin and for our marriage. When I'm honest, I see the good they do for me, too, because they make me more mature and more humble.

4) Don't walk out. When I am angry, I want to do only two things: throw stuff and leave. Boy do I want to leave. I get why people storm off, but it makes things worse. If you need to cool down, go to another room, not another address. I have spent a fair amount of imaginative energy concocting what my escape apartment looks like. Sadly, it isn't very luxurious. The furniture is sparse and my kids are always coming over for visits and they're crying. Even my fantasy about getting away from my marriage problems pretty accurately depicts how rotten it would be.

5) Remember you're no party, either. Thomas A Kempis says it so well it has stuck with me since I read it two years ago in The Imitation of Christ: "Learn how to be patient in enduring the faults of others, remembering that you yourself have many which others have to put up with." This has helped me vastly in my marriage, and in all my other relationships as well. Yes, I have to put up with Kevin's various imperfections, but he puts up with mine!

Two post-scripts: One, if you're reading this and you're already divorced, my advice to you is to learn from past mistakes. Approach new relationships with a ridiculous amount of caution. Involve as many trusted friends in your relationship as possible. Don't get into a relationship with someone who doesn't share your faith. And don't have sex before you get married. I bet I could find some study out there proving that if you follow these guidelines, your marriage has at least a 174-percent better chance of survival.

Second post-script: If your spouse is not on board with improving your marriage - all of my advice still applies. You can still go to God on your own, get professional help with YOUR issues, apologize like crazy whenever you have the chance, stay home even when you feel like storming out and slamming the door behind you, and remember that you're not perfect.

Washing a Clean Car

At the gas station, I noticed a sleek-looking black SUV at the pump next to mine. It caught my eye because it was so shiny! so black! so cool!

My car was a disaster, having recently driven through one of those rare and terrible storms wherein greasy mud rains from the sky and dead bugs glom onto the windshield in groups of approximately four million. So when "Do You Want a Carwash Today?" popped up on the gas pump screen, I quickly pushed the "yes!" button. How convenient! Fill up the gas tank then drive through the handy car wash. All clean! All new! Perhaps my filthy deep-green dented and pock-marked van would come out of the carwash reincarnated as a trendy black SUV. Even if no miracle occurred, I was giddy that I would leave this place with a clean car - something I don't always have the time or money, -but especially the time- to procure.

Can you picture this? You've seen Charlie Brown shows so you know the Pigpen character. That's my van: Pigpen. Everywhere I drive, there is a little dust cloud hovering around my van. It is dirty far more often than it is clean. Sometimes it is so hard to see out of the windshield that I can't swear I haven't run over any pedestrians. And... no joke... the rabbit guts from the terrible "Rabbit Slaughter Incident of 2013" are still visible on the right rear brake light.

I drive the whole mess over to the carwash lane and I'm singing a hymn, "Come to the Water."
This is a spiritual experience, full of meaning. I'm bringing the filthy van to the waters of renewal. My van will emerge a different van, and I, the driver - a different driver. With a clean car, all things are possible. Maybe if I can achieve a clean car I can achieve success in all areas of life. My singing is louder now, and I turn the corner behind the gas station - eyes on the entrance to the carwash and there in front of me... is the sleek black SUV. My singing stops.

This is a sure sign of an out-of-whack society: a frazzled housewife in a monumentally soiled minivan waiting in the carwash line behind a woman with an immaculately clean car, trendy mini-dress, designer heels, and supermodel hair.

What was she doing there? What kind of joke was being played?

Come on, lady! You're raising the standard impossibly high. You're telling me I have to get my car washed even before it gets dirty!?!

This story would be much more satisfying if I had gotten out of my van and given "Perfection Lady" the what-for. If I had lectured her about spending her time more wisely than on washing a clean car. If I had obtained the name of her hairdresser. But that wasn't going to happen. I was wearing my pajamas, after all. I can't just hop out of the mud-caked driver's-side door and waltz up to a complete stranger to give her life advice. I have my dignity.

I waited patiently as she punched in her car wash code, climbed back into her vehicle, and proceeded into the car wash. While the soap and brushes skimmed across her perfect paint, a few more bugs committed suicide on my windshield and I watched them die. And in my mind, the music played:

And let all who toil,

let them come to the water.

And let all who are weary,

let them come to the Lord:

all who labor, without rest.

How can your soul find rest,

except for the Lord?