Thursday, October 15, 2015

October - Eight More Days

The end at the beginning ...

This is my recipe box:

This is Roger at six (Ellen at six is at the bottom of this post)

A picture of a sculpture by Roger, along with a poem we wrote about it.

October 8 

I have a problem - a pecan pie problem. I could basically eat a whole one by myself. DO not care that much for pumpkin, sweet potato is OK. But my favorite is pecan, with apple and buttermilk close seconds. So this time of year is such an onslaught to whatever part of the brain is triggered by all of these pictures of pies... I seldom bake pies, because I bake good pies, with from scratch pastry, and then eat too much. sigh. I want pecan pie.

Recipe for Brown Bag Apple Pie

October 9 

I have a wee problem ... watching Tech on ESPN and following Richlands Blue Tornado Football on Twitter ... Blues are whooping some Bulldogs tonight, Hokies need to take care of the Wolfpack as well!

October 10

from my father - not sure of the source, he said it every time we cursed in his presence -
" Any use of profanity is an outward indication of an inner lack of education"

Searching for the
… I so want to
say …
No, I cannot
I must not
use that word
in this
For shock value?
In raw reaction?
Daddy always said -
I know, I know
“what Daddy always said”
why do you have to
Well, it worked, didn't it???

 October 11

In quietude the light does fade
Blessed benediction for a sacred day

No stirring breeze or raindrop disturbs
Whispers of farewell from unseen fae
Blanket of solemn reflection now rests
Upon hours of toil
Be blessed

A comment I made to a friend:I mend as well. And love the zen of the act as you have so beautifully expressed. My sweet Roger bought me a new sewing machine for Christmas several years ago, and it is the third Singer I own. The first is from circa 1945, in a beautiful cabinet, electric with amazing attachments. A legacy from my father's oldest sister. The second I purchased second hand in the mid 80's, and it too has all kinds of bells and whistles, and is in a cabinet. My latest is "portable", which is fine to sit atop #2, because where would I fit a third sewing machine in a permanent cabinet??? I am a sewing notions junkie, and love the selection of pins you show us here ...

There are no unsacred places. There are only sacred places and desecrated places.- Wendell Berry
The divine is within
Where I
What I
Who I
When I
Why I
How I
This is my
This firmament
And all life
Depends on me
And I on them
All is sacred
All is to be cherished
This is what I believe
and how I strive to live

October 12

"It is not joy that makes us grateful; it is gratitude that makes us joyful." ~ Brother David Steindl-Rast
*David Steindl-Rast OSB is a Catholic Benedictine monk, notable for his active participation in interfaith dialogue and his work on the interaction between spirituality and science.*
I am not Catholic. At one time I vigorously professed Christianity. Now I simply tell people I am not a religious person, but a deeply spiritual soul. For me, this is a natural, personal evolution. We are each on our own path in life, and mine has been thus.
Things matter, often too much, and more than people in most of the industrialized world. It is always about money, about power, about who has the biggest and shiniest toys. We seem to be caught in a maze, where we work to get and get so we have to work ...
This quote struck a chord with me, and I have keep it in my little file of quotes that I hope say something about me, and what I believe. After two marriages, numerous jobs, friendships that have bloomed then faded, feelings of deep elation and despair, exposure to people from a respectable variety of cultures, ethnicities, nationalities, and belief systems I find that my concept of what constitutes joy, contentment and happiness is more complex than when I was in my 20's and 30's.
For me, this quote, along with a few others, puts into words some of my deepest and, in a way, most fragile beliefs. Fragile insofar as being precious, not breakable, but cherished.
I am grateful for the people I have met, and learned from. I am grateful for the hard lessons I have learned, for the trials and triumphs, for the challenges and graces extended. My life while not perfect provides me with a joy in living that is less tied to "stuff" than in years past.
I so eagerly await what is yet to come!

October 13

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” ~Anatole France
Even those things I never thought I would miss, the tangible and the intangible, are woven into the fabric that is me, are part of real events. Being mindful of the now, this journey we are sharing here in Small Stones, what I see us doing is helping one another with that melancholy. I admire all of you so much.

 October 14

I would like to write
Inspiring words
thoughtful observations
midday at mid-week
midway through days off (3)
All I can mindfully observe is
My middle toenail on my left foot hurts
Must have stubbed it in the night
Oh Well

We are one species. We are starstuff.
Carl Sagan

The night sky, here in my beloved mountains, cozied down by the river as we are, has very little light pollution. I pause as I go out the door for work, oh so early, 4:10 AM most days. I tilt my head back, and gaze at the immensity above me, see the stars and planets and satellites and airplanes floating and twinkling overhead. Yes, we are one species, we are starstuff - and my spirit keens for home briefly, then I come back to ground and set about my day.

October 15

This is me in the first grade. I remember that dress - it was brown, and the buttons looked like butterscotch candies. I think I was smiling crooked because of missing teeth. Looking at me then, I can see that the fatty area above my eyes has always been there, all droopy. My Daddy's eyes were like that. Mom would put bobby pins in my hair to keep it out of my eyes. My hair had actually been long until I was about 5, when my grandmother had it all chopped off one summer. I remember being glad - my hair ties itself in knots overnight and having it brushed out hurt like the dickens. My Daddy's brother JT used to act like he was going to cut my ponytail off with a pocket knife and I would throw fits, so when the hair was gone I was no longer afraid of Uncle T. Daddy was not happy to see my hair gone - for years I thought MawMaw decided on her own to get it cut, but I think Mom probably colluded with her, having it cut when I was out of town and Daddy not being able to protest. I was a very bouncy little thing, always running and getting into mischief. Not a calm child at all. First grade was the year I got into trouble at school for answering a question from the teacher honestly. Bess Buskill was my first grade teacher, and she asked if anyone knew who the president was. I raised my hand and answered, "Long Nose Johnson!" because that was what my father called him at home. I was paddled in the cloak room for that one. Amusing the things you remember from your early childhood.

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