7 quick takes. Or maybe not so quick.

1.       Today I am feeling EXTRA tired, and therefore my filter has collapsed. Maybe this is why I decided finally to blog. So your welcome. Or watch out. I’m not sure which way this is gonna go.

Food:

2.       So, food. Right now I am eating a salmon patty, sautéed yellow pepper and zoodles cooked in butter, chai tea with a huge tablespoon of whole fat coconut milk, a jar of home brewed kombucha and a bowl of Kellogg’s Rice Krispies with homo milk because I poured the milk before my two year old could tell me she would prefer almond milk. And I’m too tired to fight this morning.

The first things in my list are Whole30-ish, Paleo-mostly. Kellogg’s Rice Krispies. Not so much. In fact, I haven’t settled in my heart how exactly I am going to deal with (phase out?) some of those big brand names because the food industry is seriously broken. They don’t care about feeding people. But, I guess the point is that there is always juxtaposition in our lives. Sometimes things are squeaky clean. Sometimes I eat Chinese food smorg. Probably not this Lent, you know, the fasting and whatnot, and I haven’t eaten Chinese since October when I started a Whole30 reset, but I do see it in my future. I’m a little scared and a little excitedly expectant. Sort of like knowing I am going to ride a roller coaster that is going to be so incredibly fun and will most likely make me vomit after. That kind of good time.

3.       In the food vein, I just want to say that one day, a few years ago, I sat in my living room and cried on my couch after watching Julie and Julia because I was so excited about the idea of food and writing and how I could combine the two and my faith and write a cookbook about how amazingly these three things go together and it was going to be brilliant and the best thing I could ever do forever and ever amen.

I still love food. And writing. And Jesus. But I have seen some of those food bloggers on the internets and in the Instagrams who really have their shiz together. They GO for it, and this cooking/writing/Jesus project of mine never took any shape beyond the tears on my couch and a few impassioned discussions. Food is POWERFUL! I could tell you all about it some time.

I haven’t developed any recipes. I haven’t taken any food styling courses. I haven’t even done any serious writing. Obviously without some serious changes to my life course, this little project is not going to materialize. I mean, check out Cristina at The Castaway Kitchen. This girl deserves all the props. She obviously works her tail off running after her food dream, and it is amazeballs. I especially love how real and raw she can be, and her energy is contagious. And I don’t even know her. And her recipes are delicious, and so good for a body. Another amazing food person I follow is Danielle Kartes of Rustic. Joyful. Food. This gal is SO FUNNY! I can’t handle her Instagram stories. I wish we were best friends.

  

Now. This is not to say that I feel like the competition is too intense for me to jump into it. I mean, I would probably have moments where I’d feel like this were the case, because let’s be honest, the Competition. Is. Staggering. But I also listened to a podcast recently (Among the Lillies - I think, but I don’t know which episode because I don’t listen to them in order) and in the episode the girls were talking about how there can never be enough beauty in the world, so don’t be scared to contribute what I feel like God is calling me to contribute. Amen to that.

 

However I don’t think I’ll be throwing my hat into the food blogging ring. I think putting all that pressure on food would maybe ruin my relationship with it. And I’m just starting to figure that out. So I’ll borrow some recepies from Cristina and Danielle and from @thefeedfeed and Jaime Oliver and post a couple of pics to Insta when I feel like oversharing my life. The end.

4.       Whole30. I just have to talk about it for a minute. I sort of don’t want to because I feel like I am about to join a fad or reveal how trendy I am or how much of a crazy-control person I am (anyone who knows me knows how OUT of control I usually am! Yikes.) but I still need to confess. I did one. A Whole30. And at first I thought, “This sucks balls.” I was scared to start. As mentioned above, food has power, and I was under sugar’s spell. I am a full blown sugar addict and I could not stop myself from eating it out of control. If I had a bad day with the girls, I’d hide in the corner of the kitchen and eat seven packages of fruit snacks, just shoving them in by the packetful to try to sooth my angst. I used to hide mini Toblerone bars in my dresser and eat four of them at night after everyone went to sleep - or any time I got to leave the house solo I would stop at Walmart for a disgustingly dry package of $1 powdered mini donuts and eat the whole package in the five minute drive from the store to my house. Or get Twinkies at 7-11. Ew. The thing is I wasn’t even happy eating these things. I’d feel gross after, I would only enjoy the first bite or two, and then I would feel guilty about eating them. Hence the hiding. Emotionally, I had a tough autumn, and I finally got to the place where I decided I didn’t want to be controlled by junk food, and I wanted my mental health to improve. I needed to get a handle on something. So I was doing some reading, and everything was pointing to gut health and the things I ate affecting EVERYTHING about me. From the obvious things like weight and cardiovascular health, to mental health, infections, inflammation and all other aspects of life. So I wanted to figure it out.

Whole30 didn’t require any purchasing of anything. No supplements, no shakes, no meetings or communities to join. No monthly fee. I didn’t even have to buy a book. I got them from the Library. (Win!) And in fact, all the necessary information is on the website, so really, there is nothing they are trying to hide. It is honestly just straight up food. So after being in mourning for a couple of weeks at the prospect of not being able to binge on whatever, whenever, and feeling like I could never be happy with a restrictive food diet - even if it was just temporary - I decided that this thinking was pretty messed up. Food should not - and in actuality does not - determine if I have joy in my life. So I obviously needed to get this under control. I bit the bullet. I did some food and sauce prep. I committed to 60 days instead of 30. Because honestly. I was sneaking around eating disgusting donuts. 30 days of rehab wasn’t about to break this habit. It wasn’t the revelation that many people claim it to be. As the first 30 days wore on, I still felt angst-y, I still had huge sugar cravings, zits, and I have no way to measure how well I sleep because I have small kids. Sleeping through the night is non-existent in my world. By day 25 I was ready to quit. But since there were only five more days until I would measure and weigh myself, I decided to hold on for those next five days. On day 31, I stepped on the scale to see if anything had actually changed. To my great surprise, I had lost 16 lbs. What? I didn’t even feel like I looked different. And that made me feel self-conscience because if my pants were still fitting me 16 lbs lighter, I must have been stuffing myself into these things sausage-style all this time. Yikes. Also, how could I have lost 16 lbs on a diet that didn’t count calories, and let me eat ALL the fats I wanted? You guys. I was cooking everything in ghee, spreading it on all my veggies, eating tablespoons of mayonnaise, and putting coconut cream into my tea all the time. ALL THE TIME. 

So I decided to keep going and stick out the next month. Actually, I was going to do 66 days total, but Christmas stuff started happening December 6 and that marked 60 days, so I kind of said, I’m just going to do Christmas. I had clean meals in between days of feasting, and I enjoyed myself, but by December 28^th my tummy was in knots and I went back to W30 full force for two weeks to recover. I meant to do a reintroduction carefully and scientifically so I would know how things affect me, but I failed at that. It was really hard to introduce grains without also introducing dairy and sugar and Oh My! I obviously still don’t have the Food Freedom that Melissa Hartwig talks about, but I have learned that I feel better when I eat more veggies and protein and less grains - especially wheat - and dairy. So I am kind of right there. Where I eat food. But I listen to my body and if it doesn’t feel good, I eat a W30 type of meal and snacks for the next while until I feel good again. I don’t have the exact information that I could have gained, but I do have some valuable knowledge in my easily accessible repertoire which I access frequently. And I have a strategy that I can easily get back to if I am feeling out of control. Good things.

As for overall what my results were - since October 9, I have lost about 28 pounds. My emotional state is much more even keel. I also started tracking my menstrual cycle when I started W30 and I have found that I am a nut job on the second last day of my period, and knowing that that is just a bad day overall, I can get through it easier knowing it is just hormones and not “me” or my failures that is making the day so BAD! My energy level has also improved. I am able to get more of the stuff done around my home. More laundry gets done. I vacuum now. The kitchen counters aren’t such an insurmountable task, and getting out for walks and adventure is easier - if the weather permits, which has been a whole thing for us this winter. Sometimes (usually) I still struggle with sugar. Like those Welch’s Fruit Snacks have trapped me in the kitchen once or twice since I started back to eating food with added sugar, but now I recognize disordered eating patterns AND I don’t have to feel guilty about them, I just use tools I have to move back in the direction of food as fuel instead of crappy comfort for a crappy moment. I had a phrase kind of hit me a couple of days ago - well, I don’t really remember exactly how it went, but it was along the lines of there being no sense in allowing a food choice to make me feel crappier on an already crappy day. Very eloquent. I should really be a writer. Must have been the second last day of my period.

Ok. That was more than a minute. I guess it depends on how quickly one reads. Maybe I’ll make it one post on its own.

Not Food:

5.       So I’ve also wanted to write about being a Creative. What is a Creative (with a capital C) and how does one become one? How does one know if one is one? How many times can one use one to describe oneself in sentence anyway?

I have often felt a bit like I have serviceable skills in a number of areas and no real exceptional skills in any particular area. This might be true. For some reason I have this idea that there should be SOMETHING that is my one incredible exceptional talent. I don’t know where I picked it up. Maybe the same place “they” try to teach us that there is only one true love out there for each person. The B.S. factory.

What does this have to do with being a Creative? Well, I guess it is thinking that I should have one kind of art that I do and do well. Like make it a career well. I often lay awake fantasizing about how I will make a job out of my creative pursuits. Here is the thing. I don’t have a specialization, and so I often doubt that I will be able to ACTUALLY sell any of the things I make. I like to make. I like it a lot. I make all kinds of things, but I am an amateur at all the things I make. I took up knitting a few years ago, but I don’t make my own patterns I just make ones I find for free online. And I haven’t even finished a project bigger than a toque. For a baby. But I’m close. I don’t think I could sell knitting anyway.

I’ve been making cloth dolls for my girls. I like to bind leather covered books. I write. Making things makes me happy. It is a life giving thing.

I have been falling in obsessive love with pottery. Like I think about it all the time. I stress out about glaze fires to the point of glazing and re-glazing pieces after laying awake at night thinking about how I did it wrong. But I am still an amateur. Just learning the ropes. The thing is, I will always be an amateur if I don’t put the work into something. The woman at my pottery guild who inspires me said there is a book out there that says it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at something. That is five years of full time work. Will it take me the equivalent of five years of full time work to become a Creative? Do I need to settle down and just work on ONE kind of creativity?

One of the things I really want to do is start selling pottery because I honestly don’t have room to keep it, and I’d like for this obsessive habit to cost me zero money. But am I good enough to do it? This makes also makes me sound cheap. I am. I want to be generous and give pieces to everyone I know, but I only know so many people. And they might not want my attempts at pottery in their homes. SO if I sell it, people will pick pieces they actually want and I will feel accomplished. Like I’m a real Creative.

Is being a Creative equivalent to selling one’s work? Probably not. If the statement I mentioned above, “there can never be too much beauty in the world” is true, just the act of making, or the way in which we “do” the things we do should be the definition of being a Creative. I guess by our nature, we are all Creatives, styled after the greatest Creator of All.

Perhaps the lesson for me here is to worry less (stop worrying and wondering completely) about defining myself by my own means or by how saleable I am or by some social construct. There is a deeper, truer truth about who I am. Help me settle into that. And maybe sell a few pots. And maybe a doll. Or a book. How does one create and Etsy shop anyway?

6.       Often when I am writing, I am tempted to use the pronoun “you.” As if I can define you all by my experiences or by some general statement or universal feeling. I am trying real hard to stop it. When I write word “you” in my pieces now, I go back and try to change the pronoun to “I”. This is my story anyway. And, I don’t need to project onto you how you feel or what you should do when really, these writings are mostly cathartic exercises for me and a chance to analyze and come to terms with some aspect of my life. Anyway. I feel a bit like it is rude and presumptuous to put you into my head.

7.       I don’t know if any of this has been useful, but I have been thinking about all of these things for months and it was finally time to put them out there. If you made it to the end, you are a champion! God bless you, heal you and free you.

Peace.

Discontent Part 2

Contributing Factors

So feeling discontented has got to be coming from somewhere. Last post I outlined areas in my life I feel discontent with. I don't want to be a person who lives with an uneasy feeling, packing it around like whiny child and pretending that this is how it's supposed to be. I want resolution! Where are some of these feelings coming from? Let's break it down.

1.     Pinterest Stress. I Admit it. It is an embarrassing thing to admit to, and I loathe the title: Pinterest Stress. I wish there was something more dignified to call it - but there it is. This awful phrase is an over simplification of a sort of over arching problem of too much social media. There are just so many AMAZING things going on in people’s lives, I get excited about them all and I think I should be doing ALL THE THINGS. Here is a brief glimpse of all the things that inspire parts of my heart mind or soul:

a.    Living with no furniture! This is an article about Katy Bowman and her family and how they have no chairs and they basically sleep on the floor and go barefoot all the time in the name of good health!  Love.

b.   Living in a Tent! While building a homestead! You can check out this super rad adventure at firsttimefarmers.com

Figure 1: Photo credits to @firsttimefarmers via Instagram

Figure 1: Photo credits to @firsttimefarmers via Instagram

c.    Giving my kids adventurous, outdoor exploration and appreciation like Wild Explorers Club

Figure 2 Photo Credit to @nicolebianchi_ Instagram - via @wildexplorersclub

d.    Getting rid of basically everything we own and living a minimalist lifestyle.  Amanda Gregory is maxing minimalism in a beautiful way @mytinytribe on Instagram.

Figure 3: Photo Creds to @mytinytribe via Instagram

All her kids’ toys fit in that one basket. I kid you not. #my_minimalist_mondays

e.    Jumping into a van/bus/air-stream/tin-can/old motor-home and driving across the planet experiencing all there is to take in in this wild wide world. Check out one such adventure at www.americanfrolic.com

Figure 4: Photo Creds to @americanfrolic via Instagram

All of these examples are just a small smattering of the amazing things I have been reading about and wanting to do. I could list about 10 other things here - many of which are diametrically opposed to each other - that catch my attention and my heart. I mean, how can I travel the world and have a homestead? It ain’t gonna happen. In fact, as I was beginning to identify this as a thing in my brain, the Holy Spirit spoke some very profound words to me: “Mind your own business and do your laundry.” Touché.

2.    I am into year two of my life being drastically different than it has been in the past 10 years. The past ever, actually. I’ve never been a stay at home mom before, and “busy” for me used to mean I ran from one activity to the next, visiting with friends, teaching high school or running youth ministry. Suppers with people, movie dates, marking, planning retreats, meetings with fellow teachers or youth ministers who were excited about doing rad and creative things for kids. These days “busy” means that life moves so slowly, that once you take out meals and naps and the prep and time each involves, we can only do two other things in a day - if we are lucky. Clean. Take the dog for a walk. Go to a parent link activity. Visit friends. Bake. Pick up dog poo. Garden (if the kids allow it). Do something creative like write or sew or knit (if the kids allow it). Go to a park. Go to the backyard. And if I want to go do something myself - well that happens on Wednesday evening for 75 minutes. I go to an exercise class. If the kids allow.

These are pretty simple things. These things are my life. On the one hand, THESE THINGS ARE MY LIFE!!!!!! On the other hand, these things are my life.

This is what I like t call, the lack of the “Big Show.” I used to be a player in the “Big Show.” Now I am stage directing a “Little Show.”

I could list more things I guess, but really it comes down to these things. Actually it seems to all boil down to one thing now that I have it written out: lack of perceived adventure.

Perceived because I am on a journey right now that I have never been on before - so this season is inherently adventurous. Hmmmmmm. - I was expecting this post to take a different route. I was going to lay out a whole bunch of things and solve each problem. Funny how when I write things down through the course of a few weeks there is unexpected revelation.

Stay tuned for part three which I can see taking shape in my mind’s eye as I type: ways I am truly living adventure - a mind shift.

Peace.

Discontent - Part 1

Spiritual Prompting or Stir Crazy?

You know when you have a good day – like a peaceful, slow paced, content kinda day. Maybe you get to spend some quiet time reading.  Maybe the kids are super endearing. Maybe it feels like you have not a care in the world. I just had one of those days. It really was nice and peaceful.  But then I looked in the mirror.  – Now please know this isn't a hate on myself post. I - like everyone – have those weak moments, but as a rule I don't let them track me around and I shake them off with truths that far outweigh any negativity that tries to hang itself around my neck.

Anyway, I looked in the mirror, and I thought to myself – you are a hot mess. And I vocalized this sentiment to my husband.  We had just been to a five year old's birthday party where I met some new people from my community and while I was there I also noted that I seriously needed some under arm charm. I was stinky. I was the stinky mom. I admit, it is harder to find time to shower as a mom than it was when there weren't little bodies in my constant care, but I would by no means say that I neglect personal hygiene. (Yes I have dreadlocks, but I keep them clean.) But I was smelly that day and I am still at the beginning of a health and weight loss journey that doesn't seem to be going super great. Not to mention having a toddler and too much stuff means that I sometimes feel like I live in a chaotic mess. Basically I was just feeling discontented about everything.  And it came on me suddenly after a fairly content and low key day.

What is the root of this nagging sense of un-rightness in my life? Did this feeling just come upon me out of nowhere or is it something I have been carrying around?

After the hot mess comment, my husband tried, unsuccessfully, to tease me and I couldn't shake this downer, nagging feeling for the rest of the night. As bedtime was approaching, I handed him my phone to read a Facebook article while I put the toddler in her jammies and helped her get cleaned up. We communed for prayers on her queen sized mattress and as we settled down I said, “I feel like I am in the winter of my discontent.”

What the crap am I discontent about?

To the untrained eye everything in my life is tickety-boo. Because it is! I don't have very many hardships.  Like basically none. There is nothing for me to complain about. So what is this feeling about? What areas of life am I not content with?

1.     My spirituality. I want to live my faith more authentically. I want it to be the centre of everything I do, the decisions I make, the way I raise my kids and  how I live out my marriage with my husband. I want it to permeate EVERYTHING.  

2.    My consumerist/entitled/wasteful lifestyle. I could use the old qualifier, “I'm not as bad as most.” But seriously.  That is weak. Who cares what “most” do? What do I DO? That's the real question and the only variable I can control!  So please, Wynder, cut the thin excuses and take a hard look at how you love (live).

3.    My health and fitness.  I have dreams in this area. Dreams of being able to do serious back country backpacking. Dreams of being able to do chin ups. Dreams of inversion yoga. Dreams of strength and flexibility that follow me well into my old age. Energy that matches my kids. Dreams of being able to have self control when it comes to sugar in my life. I'm not there.

4.    My messy house. We are not hoarders by any means; the pathways through our stuff are at least big enough to shuffle past another person, but honestly.  I would like my floor spaces to be empty and the flat surfaces of my life to be used for more than just collecting things like mail and tools I am too lazy to put away.  The boxes and things we haven't used since we moved need to go. What is my problem?

5.    My creativity.  I am a creative person, although it took me about a million years to realize it. But I haven't utilized the creative outlets available to me as best I could.

Five seems to be a significant number for me these days because I had five goals for this year. Here are five things I feel the need to pursue and change, but how oh how does one balance a list of five things, each of which could be a life's pursuit? 

Update on Dreadlocks

The finished product *for now*
I also trimmed my own bangs because who needs to pay a hairdresser?
#frugal #cheap

Well, the dreads are all in. I finally got the last ones knotted up the first weekend in August, which was a huge relief.  I had been trying to get them done for two months.  I don't know if I should mark June as their birthday or August, but it will make me feel more accomplished to say June,  so I'll probably go with that.  I really thought once my husband was on summer vacation that I'd have nothing but time to sit and back comb my hair and that I'd get them done in a couple of days. But then he was off work and I just wanted to hang out with him! So we hiked a lot and went for walks or took our little one to the park. Or did some renovations. Turned out that the time I had to work on my dreads was mostly in the vehicle as we drove to places to have fun! So it took a lot longer to wrap them up than I had anticipated.

On top of Mt. Albert in Beauvais Lake Provincial Park

And now, my friends, the maintenance. I am already behind on it and as a result have some dreadlocks forming congas at the roots. As well, my hair is supa fuzzy on top. And everywhere. I did a couple hours worth of maintenance on the top/front dreadlocks because I had a wedding to attend and wanted to try to tame the beast a bit, but that was last week and today I couldn't really tell I had done anything.  I NEED to get back at it because I have just a few short weeks until I am going to seriously neglect them for months! There is a user I follow on Instagram called @wonderlocks and they posted a video on YouTube about how to deal with congas and how to prevent them.  I haven't watched it. I probably should. Instead, I just cut them apart if I can't pull them apart and use my crochet hook to try and tighten those roots up. I partly think I am doing it wrong and partly think, "What the crap. They are just big knots. How could there possibly be a wrong way to make them?" 

After all, I do what I want.

There are occasions in life I believe in taking the time to watch a YouTube video or six to learn something before you try it. Like I did before I started this whole dreadlock journey.  Or when I learned to drywall. But this is not one of those times. The few minutes it would take me to find, watch, and evaluate the usefulness of these videos is more than I am willing to spend.  I could just be doing the maintenance with that time. Or reading my kid "The Gruffalo" one more time. Or writing. Or cleaning/cooking/gardening/laundering/some other useful if tedious task required in the keeping of a household. There is a time for trolling the internet for information and there is a time to just work it out on your own.

So I am up late drafting a blog post instead of dealing with my conga situation. Late because I spent an hour scrolling through Instagram. Bah. 

*I know complaining about social media in a blog post is kind of biting the hand that feeds, but this blog makes me no money. I also know I am going to link this post on my Instagram and Facebook pages in hopes some of you friendly people out there read it, so there is also that irony, but I am going to go a head and share my struggle with the mindless scroll anyway.*

I need to also get a handle on my social media habits.  Time to trim back on the screen time and think more about my creative time, family time and necessary task time. Although in the past couple of days I have made 4 extra freezer meals swept the floors (which I do plan to wash tomorrow) and wiped down the bottom half of the kitchen walls. Thanks to no Insta' or Facebook during the day. I don't know if I'm nesting, realized I only have limited time to accomplish some of these pressing tasks, or am experiencing social media freedom, but I am grateful to have those things done. I like looking at the walls and seeing significantly less dirt streaks and fingerprints. 

Tomorrow I'll be satisfied with washing the floors, finishing the design work on an anthology project I am part of, and actually doing some work on these dreads. On top of the regular things like little kid music class and having my friend and her kids over for lunch. (UPDATE: The floors never got washed, I still need to wrap up that design work, and I finally worked on my dreads about two days after I wrote the draft of this post for about an hour. Life, my friends.)

I had better get to bed. Looks like a big day tomorrow.

Peace

About Writing....

Journal-ling on my deck. AKA "my happy place"

I have been getting excited about writing again. To be honest, I am always excited about writing. I have an inner monologue that runs in my head as if I were constantly writing a journal entry. Some nights I lay awake and think about what I wish I was writing in my journal, but I often don't get up to write. Instead, I rationalize that I am too tired, or will need to be up with the babe soon and I should just go to sleep. I would probably be further ahead if I just got up and wrote for half an hour and then went back to bed instead of mulling it all over for an hour or two.

The elusive "sleeping baby"

Tonight, I didn't even try to lay down to sleep. I went out to a movie with some girls and had a large Coke and popcorn, so I am all jazzed up on sugar and caffeine. Not to mention all that popcorn in my pregnant body is giving me some serious heartburn. Babies take up so much room! There will be no sleeping for a little while yet. 

Since July, I have been more motivated to make an effort to write every damn day. It's a hashtag. I have been following the writing prompts of "lilblueboo's" blog and while I have only done about a dozen of them, they are a great way to get me putting pen to paper, telling stories I might never have written down and actually making me think about my craft. So far, I hadn't written anything today besides copying some recipes from the interwebs into my "make-your-own-cookbook", so this is an opportunity I will not waste. And what better way than to put up a blog post?

Writing Prompt #6 - Courtesy of lilblueboo.com

I have been working with a writing group at my local museum. The title of the group is "Family Secrets" and the goal was simply to get people writing their stories. Especially stories about family history. There are so many things in life that are lost because no one took time to do a little recording. We aren't a group who is about genealogy or chronology or even names of places. We are simply trying to tell our stories. The beauty is that as we tell our stories our histories come out in them and are recorded. We leave a legacy of ourselves and also those who have influenced us. And maybe nobody else gives a crap, but since stories are a universal glue that holds humanity together, I think someone somewhere might actually crap. Or give one. Or whatever. 

At first, I wasn't sure I was fitting in as a writer with the group. Everyone else has stories of horse drawn wagons, homesteading, and one room schoolhouses. My stories have a similar feel, as I grew up largely in a rural environment, but my stories also feature technological advances such as electricity and tend to feel more like a journal entry. (Obviously, most of my writing experience takes place merely between the coil bound covers of my journals, so besides university papers, I don't have much experience as someone who actually "writes".) It took me a little bit to realize that my stories were the same as my counterparts - even if my style was a bit different. I was writing about being a kid, growing up, funny anecdotes, relationships with parents, and the other members of the group were too. It is just that they are all 30-50 years older than me. 

Our leader, a local author named Tyler Trafford, has been extremely helpful and encouraging getting our group moving forward, getting stories down, sharing our voices. He even suggested we create an anthology of our stories to publish and will be walking us through the process. He has a great deal of knowledge and experience to share with all of us amateurs. In fact, he has really challenged me as a writer, which no one has done since my 20th Century Irish Drama class in university. That professor was an extremely tough marker, but I didn't take her grading as an invitation to improve my craft. It was merely a formula I needed to passably achieve in order to make it through her class. I learned in university that my writing ability was not necessarily magnificent, and while I have always harboured hidden hopes of one day being published for my own merits, I let my laziness and my arrogance lull me into believing that my words were somehow....a big deal. That if I bothered to write it down, it was good enough. That is the danger of only writing in a journal . The only audience is me. And I know exactly what I am trying to say. I like my writing style. I don't notice my grammatical errors. I think I am witty and entertaining and profound. That is also the beauty of just being a journal-er. No one insists I do better. No one challenges me about my craft. No one can burst my bubble.

Tyler burst my bubble. It has taken me a couple of days to grapple with it.

He is SO encouraging. He calls and leaves messages about how he and everyone enjoys my stories and that my words are so great. It has been nice having people pump my tires about writing like I did in junior high. But - He told me I do well at getting words out and once I spew it all out on paper, I get lazy. He told me my pieces were good, but if I would just invest more time and effort into them, they would be great. The elements are there. However, I need to rework them.

I want to protest. To say, "but I am so busy with a little kid in the house." I want to say, "I've never had to put so much extra effort in before." I want to say, "Aren't my words, the way I say them, enough? Aren't they already magic?"

You know what, though? He is right. It happens all the time with me. I get excited about doing something, but then I don't pursue it to my full potential. And it is OK to do that. I can't throw my whole self behind every project I take up - it isn't realistic to think that I can be fully invested in every endeavour I find interesting. Nobody can.

This is where my problem is: I have this black balloon I have been packing with me for years. It is the idea that I am kind of good at a bunch of things - but excellent at none. That there is nothing about me that makes me special. At least not in tangible gifts. My husband and I used to have this joke between us: this is Mark, (followed by a lengthy list of his accomplishments and talents), and this is his wife, Val, she's a good friend. 

The truth? I have never really put myself out there in a way that has challenged my abilities and talents. I had enough to get by - and get by pretty well - so I left it at that. Honestly, it is easier to coast through than to make myself vulnerable by really striving. That way if I fail I know I haven't really tried anyway. Super cliche and super lame, but also, ashamedly, super true. I have the potential to learn how to be excellent at writing. I have been keeping a journal fairly consistently since the 8th grade. I think that is a pretty good indicator about my passion for writing. Journal-ling is the only thing that I started in my childhood and have continued through my life. I have always wanted to write down the things I think, feel and experience. The craft of it is something that I can learn to improve on. I can learn to be an artist with my words. And you know what? Even though I am interested in trying and doing lots of things from knitting to tanning leather to pottery, I will be happy to do all of those things decently - but I want to be excellent at writing. Maybe one day I will be published for my own merits.

I guess that means I should spend some time editing this post before I put it up.

Peace.

Why Is Hair Such A Big Deal?

I am not a long haired girl. It just isn’t me. I cut my hair off for the first time in grade 8 - which made me about 13 years old - and I grew it back initially because the change was just such a huge shock I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. But within about a year, I cut my hair again. And then again. And again. I cut it about three times in a week shorter and shorter until we got to a place where I loved the new look. I went from shoulder-ish length down to what I lovingly refer to as “hockey hair”, to a strange bowl-esque/mushroom-y kind of cut, to a super short pixie cut. I LOVED it. My mom HATED it. My dad said it was just hair, and so I got to keep it short, and short it stayed all through high school, most of university and into my adult life. I have had long hair twice since I finally got it down to my beloved pixie way back then: I grew it out for two years conveniently around the time I got married so my wedding photos have a pretty sweet up-do. I like to call it a faux hawk/bump with class. Which was quickly followed with a real mohawk; red and black with lightening shaved in the side of my head. The second time I have had long hair is now.

The weeding do, 2006

The hawk that followed.

I feel like I don’t even look like myself if my hair is down and flowy and, ugh. It is just weird. Even my husband doesn’t think it is me.

June 1, 2015 This is my hair as it is right now. Just showered, not combed, not straightened.
I am about to section it into braids to await dreadlocks.

I have run the gamut of colours and short edgy dos. Mohawks, fauxhawks, long bangs, rat tails, spikes, and shaved. I loved them all. About three years ago, I decided to start growing my hair. I had a goal. Something I hadn’t done before. Something that was going to take some commitment. Something that made everyone cringe. Dreadlocks.

Here are a few examples of the hair I have had over the past 10 years:

I am not a planner by nature. I don’t have 5 or 10 year goals. We have a supper menu on a chalk board in the hallway because my husband got tired of me never knowing what the crap I was going to make for supper that day. So the biggest plans in my life are what’s for supper Monday to Friday, and the rest just comes at me. Or I come at it. I guess it depends on the day.

BUT. I planned for this hair. I have a goal. Dreads.

Also, I should add that I am a strange combination of an opportunist - looking for someone else to do the hard work for me - and a “do it the hard way” kind of girl. I don’t like to spray weeds. I like to pull them. (why? I don’t know. I feel like it is more meaningful. And more effective.) I recently made soap. I know I can buy it. But I MADE some. And I think that’s cool.

Anyway. I put out a plea on Facebook to my friends and family for someone to help me out with putting these dreads in my hair. I really only have a limited amount of time where putting them in makes sense, because soon my hands are going to be full full full of a new baby and a toddler, so I wanted to maximize the summer and this time with only one kid to really work at these dreads. (In case you are unaware - dreadlocks are very labour intensive for the first little while - up to a year - while they mature and lock in. If they aren’t looked after, they get gnarly and scary) I got lots of encouragement - and some cringes - but no one offered up their time or energy to help me out. (To be fair, recently, a friend I know who has helped maintain her brother's dreads has offered to help.)

I went to a local salon for a bang trim. I asked there. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to ask. $100 an hour. For at least 8 hours. Probably more like 10. Honey, ain’t no one got a grand to drop on a hairstyle. Please. So. Here I am. I have a head full of hair that doesn’t feel like it belongs to me, and a goal. And a bit of a time limit. Sigh. I guess I’m going to have to do it myself. At least I am not scared of the hard way. I guess my weeds are just going to have to wait to be pulled while I dread my hair (and blog about it!).

My hair is a big part of the expression of who I am. It has been for a long time. It is loud when I don’t feel like I have the voice to be loud. It attracts attention. It has a mind of its own. So, while I thought about maybe just giving up and cutting the whole mess off, going back to my “safe” hair styles - I decided I just need to go for it. It is going to take me some time to get it done, it took me two days just to section my hair and braid it so it would be somewhat organized for this endeavour. But I think I want to document this too, because I am really excited to see how it all goes. And in a year, to see what they look like. If it doesn’t work out, that’s ok too. I’m not scared of a pair of clippers. J

Braids in. Now for the real work to begin.

My first dreadlock of many.

I know most people don’t give two poops about a post on hair - let alone a plan to document my hair in the coming months, but if you made it to the end of this post, I feel like you should be rewarded and if you comment or if you know me well enough to send me a text or email, I will send you something just for you to say thanks for actually reading, and at least pretending to care about how firmly I have attached my identity to my hair. You are either a great friend, or you are super bored!

Peace!

31 Things

I just celebrated my 31st birthday a couple of days ago, and I was on the road driving to my brother's place to spend a couple of days, and I SO wanted to write a birthday post.  Sometimes I am overcome by the urge to just WRITE but I left my journal at home, and it has been a busy couple of days with family,  so writing had to wait. It's good too, because I thought of a format for this post in the meantime. A list of sorts to share a bit more about me and the things I have learned and experienced over my life. Maybe it is cheesy, maybe it is predictable, maybe no one give two poops about what I write, but I do what I want.

So here are 31 things.

1. Jesus is the real deal. It isn't enough to say I believe in God. Jesus really lived, really loved, and really lives again.  I know because I have seen Him work in my life and the life of people around me. The Holy Spirit moves and I have experienced Him and you can stop reading now if you want because I have just finished saying the most important thing I can say anyway.

2.  When I was a kid, I loved to eat sour cream and onion chips and bananas together. The. Best.

3. I am the middle kid and the only girl in my family. So it kinda worked out. I have the middle kid sarcasm and fight, but I also got my own room quicker.

4. I have learned things are not black and white. I used to hold people to a very high standard (especially young people I mentored) but I did it without grace. I still hold the high standard, but I understand now that I don't reach it either, and we need to cut some slack sometimes. Grace is Devine.

5.  I really am not interested in professional sports. I feel like it is a huge waste of resources. And sports talk radio makes me want to gouge out my eyes.

6. Plants are way cool.

7. I often feel guilty about what I am not doing. I have been given so much and I am so blessed, but I am not using my time, talents and resources to their full capacity and I have guilt about it.

8. I am an android user but am seriously considering going iPhone next time my contract comes up.

9. If you are a woman, I strongly believe you should read Captivating by John and Staci Eldridge. And if your a dude, Wild at Heart by John Eldridge.

10. I love to fish. I haven't really done it since high school, and most of my success was sheer luck, but I'm hoping to take it up again soon and actually learn more about it.

11. You are not in control.

12. It's ok.

13. What is real social justice? I struggle with this idea and the practice of it. I am passionate about it but it is so easy to mess up. (Yet also so easy to do right.)

14. I am an attachment parenter. At least I swing that direction on the pendulum. And I am not sorry about it. My gut tells me it is right for me and my kiddo(s) so that is how I do.

15. I used to be drawn in by the "show." Now it makes me wary.

16. Brain research. Do some.

17. I used to want to be a doctor. Maybe a pediatric surgeon. But in high school I decided I wasn't smart enough and l didn't pursue it.

18. I never thought of myself as creative, since most of my drawing looks like it was done by a skilled 8 year old, but I have found my creativity comes out in more tactile exploits like gardening and knitting and pottery.

19. Baby buns are the cutest thing on the face of the Earth.

20. Once my dad gave me a thumbs up.

21. Honey mustard.

22. The only thing I am anal about is sweeping and mopping the floor.  Not about how often it happens, but that it is done in a certain fashion.

23. I find the vast amount of hair I lose on a daily basis disconcerting.

24. I am unorganized, late and I make last minute plans. It doesn't mean I don't care.

25. I want to travel everywhere. I hope one day we can live abroad for a year as a family.

26. I find there is nothing so magnetic and enlivening as natural light, weather it is from the sun, moon or stars, I want it pouring through my windows or I want to be in it, soaking it up.

27. Once, when I was a teen, my "pseudo family," who have given me so much in my life, needed me to babysit when the mom got viral meningitis. I had also been invited to go round up cows with my neighbour the same weekend and his hot grandson was going to be there, so I talked myself into believing I was just protecting myself from infection and didn't go babysit. I have regretted this selfish decision ever since, but I never apologized to them for it. I am still meaning to.

28. Just do the right thing.

29. Amaretto is my favorite liqueur.

30. When you compromise on your central guiding principles, you cheapen them to the point of appearing worthless.

31. My husband deserves more credit, praise and affirmation than I give him. He really does his best for me and our family and I just want to acknowledge his hard work, care and presence.  Thank-you.

So Many Good Things...

Monday was a good day. Even a great day! I was so pleased with Monday. I made pancakes for just me and the babe. Which means I had a bag of leftover pancakes in the fridge ready to slam into the toaster at a moment's notice. SCORE! This breakfast win was accompanied by a calm, sunny, and warm day. If you follow my Instagram, you will know what a feat that is for this town. It was so nice that I took my one year old out, set her on the lawn and started doing some raking. Yard work is not something everyone likes to do, but for me - it helps me to really feel connected to the place I am. I love being able to see the progress of a garden, even just a small one, and the sense of peace and life a few green things can bring to a space always leaves me in awe and breathing easier.

After having a baby last spring, my front door garden had gotten away from me at our old house. I was so relieved and excited to get to work in it once my energy was up and I was willing to put baby down for naps!

This is the after photo - once I cleaned out the dead material and weeds and was working on adding a little brick path. Also, the lilacs help make the scene a little more appealing. By the end of the summer, I had quite a front door garden complete with about a half a dozen tomatoes to harvest and two home grown cucumbers!

I am the most amateur of amateur gardeners, but I will hopefully put some pictures up of my yard this year as we begin to make the space our own - and fruitful! I loved our last front door garden so much, but the new yard is so BIG! and full of potential with hills and mulchy places and a big sprawling willow tree - I think it will become a very beautiful and interesting place to be as we work on it in the months and years to come.

The gardening, however, doesn't last long when you have a newly walking one year old who decides she is comfortable enough to go exploring the very hilly yard complete with cement steps. So my pile of twigs and dead grass is presently still sitting on the lawn, killing the new grass trying to grow under it. You must understand; we HAD to go exploring, throw dirt, find (and bite) rocks, pick grass. These things are essential.

After spending too long outside and having a hangry baby, we made a quick lunch and retreated to "the big bed" for our afternoon nap.

Naps, my friends, are essential. They are what gets a one year old and her pregnant mama through the day. Every day. It doesn't even matter how well we slept the night before. Nap. My husband said it best: "sleep when you can." Because you never know what may be in store for you the coming night (this is a literary technique known as foreshadowing.) I like to think of it as "being fully present" or "living in the moment" or even "carpe diem!" Because let's be honest, if you don't just acknowledge how extremely tired pregnant/nursing/running after a toddler tired really is - you will die. Fact. Don't try to do anything fancy like the lunch dishes. Just go have a nap.

And, oh luxury of luxuries, as I was laying in my bed with my little bah-bah snoozing away, I had the time for some devotions. I know that this is a place where I fall so very short in, and that my time in the Word should be the most important thing I do every single day but, my friends, I fail at this. It is not a secret. I admit it. However, I took some time on Monday to settle into the daily readings, read some reflections and listen to the podcast from pray-as-you-go.org. Which I LOVE. Not only are the reflections top drawer, they are all done in Scottish accents. You guys. Jesus and Scottish accents. For real.

Henry Ossawa Tanner "Study for Nicodemus Visiting Jesus" 1899

 ....... Anyway, the gospel reading was from John 3:1-8 where Nicodemus meets with Jesus at night and Jesus speaks of being born of the Spirit. And the Spirit met with me there in my snugly bed with my baby snoozing. It was so great, because I felt more in tune with the Spirit in the past couple of days than I have in a while. I have been trying to feel where the Spirit is blowing me through the day - and even when I am not sure how things are going to turn out, listening and responding sure does make life more interesting.

We rounded out the afternoon with a quick visit to Daddy who was coaching and a shopping trip for groceries and the baby essentials: diapers, a new ball and tank tops for mama. They were racer back tanks, you guys. My favourite. I've basically had the same wardrobe since high school. I'm not sorry.


When we were leaving Wal-Mart (I'm not proud I shop there, but I live in a really small town with few options - I know, I know. It makes me a little sick too and I will try to solve this life issue with prayer and fasting.) there were a couple of hippies with a white dog and a sign telling all who drove by of their broke, travelling, hungry woes. So when I got to the grocery store, I bought a few extra things I thought travelling hippies might find useful (secretly I wish I were a travelling hippy) with the intention of heading back to the parking lot at Wal-ly World with gifts to send them on their way slightly better nourished.

Of course they were AWOL when I went back for them. You know what they say, "There's no rest for travelling hippies." So - I let the Spirit blow me to our "downtown", which is only about 4 blocks from my house, where I found a couple of local guys who hang out down there. I'm not sure if they are technically homeless, I haven't lived here long enough to know everyone's story, but they fit the bill of a couple of guys who could use a little extra nourishment. So I handed over the groceries. Actually, in all fairness, as I was buying things for the hippies, I was thinking to myself about what real social justice is. Am I just blessing the blessed by handing over groceries to a couple who is travelling the country? I mean, I don't doubt they were travelling on a nothing budget, (I have this thing about trusting everyone's word at face value - call it a flaw, I am glad I live this way) I know people who have. And I don't know their story, why they are on the road like they are, but why am I so willing to help people who are living one of my dreams, but so much less willing to drop $30 for groceries for the dudes down my block who REALLY need to see some love in the world? Anyway - Social Justice. Something I need to write a whole post about sometime.

BUT the great day doesn't end there! I ate a bowl of no name Frosted Flakes for supper when I got home, ditched my fam-jam and went to a MOVIE!!!! All by myself. But it was great. Like I said, I am 4 blocks from down town (half the town is) so it took me about 5 minutes to walk to the theater that was showing a Canadian film, Big News from Grand Rock, hosted by our Allied Arts Council.

The director, Daniel Perlmutter, was there all the way from Toronto, to open the film for us and answered questions at the end. I walked home after in my flippy flops enjoying the beautiful spring evening; full of popcorn and fountain Coke. :)  All was truly right with the world.

The blurry evidence of the beautiful weather.

The bustling Monday evening night life in my small town.

This beautiful spring day, filled with things I love and enjoy, came to an end with a basically sleepless night, a sick and disgruntled toddler, and a 5 am chat with Ralph on the big white telephone where I got to relive my large bag of popcorn and my once delicious fountain pop. All good things must come to an end I guess....

....and just wondering, does it take anyone else DAYS to write, edit and post a blog post that is just about one day of activities? Sheesh!

Peace!