Author: geriraedean

More later.

Weekend Vacations

geriraedean

Yesterday was such a lovely day. (June 16th).  It shall go down in the annals of my memory for a long time. We rather decided at the last minute to have a picnic for Fathers Day and Lexie picked the venue.  We decided to add our carbon dioxide to Edworthy Park. So I roasted one of my Hutterite chickens and whipped up some potato salad. Lexie had made magic cookie bars the night before (A decadent combination of graham cracker crumbs, condensed milk, coconut, pecans and chocolate chips) and I dug out some butter tarts from the freezer.  We made a couple of jugs of ice tea and grabbed the leftover watermelon and stuffed it in the picnic basket.  We thought some deviled eggs and ceasar salad would be a perfect way to round out the menu.

The car loaded down with picnic basket (a Nelson family antique) , loads of beach towels and lawn chairs and one of Lexie’s special bouquets of designer flowers, and we hit the road.  Picked up grandma (mom) on the way and we were off for the afternoon.  Turns out we weren’t so original with this idea.  But it was lovely.  The park was lovely.  The four trains that passed by were lovely.  The trains pleased mom to no end as she spent her childhood living close to train tracks.  Since we never leave the house without our Bluetooth speakers we had any music our hearts desired to listen to.  We set up camp under the shade of a large evergreen and facing the railway tracks.  We began to indulge in our picnic food just after we took a wee walk to the water to check out this huge park.  The afternoon was spent eating, reading, hiking, and playing bocce ball.  Some naps were intended but never acted upon.

It felt like a wonderful vacation, just sitting there letting the wind blow through our toes and feeling the velvety side of the beach towels underfoot.  For a few hours, we forgot our cares and just lived in the moment.  It was as if we were in another time and place.  The park included many well worn paths lined with trees, some totally covered in by branches and it was easy to forget we were in the middle of a bustling metropolis.  The river ran fast before us.  Anyone in canoes or dingys were just floating past in a whirr, no paddles needed.  We spotted a quaint ice cream shop on the other side of the river with a walking bridge available to access it and made a plan to finish our day with a walk over to get ice cream.

My heart leapt within as I listened to the laughter of Lexie and Mike playing bocce ball together.   We had included some patio chair cushions so Andrew could have a nap after we ate.  He’d had to be at work at 5:30 that morning and that is very early for him.  Grandma was just loving the potato salad, the music and the trains and was tickled that we were using her old picnic basket. It is the kind that has hard sides with thin wood strips all woven together.  The hard top can be used as a table with a double flap opening.  Attached to the inside of both sides of the lid is a strip of elastic for storing utensils.  It’s double handled and is very durable as can be ascertained by the fact that we are still using it.

We did not want to leave, but the wind was picking up and hour was getting late and some of us had obligations to fill, so we packed up our afternoon vacation and between the five us were able to get it to the car in one trip. Note to self:  Buy one of those folding wagons.  We leisurely made our way over to the ice cream shop.   With maple walnut and waffle cones in hand we meandered back over the walking bridge and towards the car.  Spent, satiated and content.  Ready to take on the new week.

Dr. Caroline Leaf says ‘Don’t forget to treat your weekend like a vacation and don’t feel guilty about it! This is vital to giving your brain a much-needed rest and will prevent burnout!’  She knows what she is talking about.

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Gratefulness 101

geriraedean

(this is a post from a year ago).

 

I sit here under my sister’s spacious gazebo, my outdoor sanctuary, for this mornings installment of my retreat vacation and I have no choice but to listen to the birds. They are a choir, each with their own harmony. I don’t think they have twitter accounts but they’ve been tweeting all morning. Several are feasting on the fresh seeds that were just set out for them. I hear the soothing coos of the neighbors morning dove. City noises fill the air but I’m good with it. It makes me feel that all is as it should be. Landscapers mowing lawns, vent guys cleaning vents, large trees swaying the the breeze (yes, thank you Lord for the refreshing, calming breeze), kids laughing. The GO train zooming by with the click of the tracks and the roar of the engine and once it has passed almost a dead quiet again except for the birds. I may even hear a woodpecker. Did I mention we are under the flight path for the airport? So I hear planes high in the sky. People going places. Going on vacations just like mine. Some going for business. Some going for relationships. Some going on adventures. Some escaping and some coming home again.

It’s not scorchingly hot and humid this morning so it is quite pleasant to relax with a purpose. Purpose being to read. To write. To journal. To watch tutorials I’m always too distracted to watch at home. I have no agenda here. Well none other than my own and I’m not attacking it but rather embracing it and pacing myself. Being spontaneous, which is not natural for me. Every now and then I hear a car leaving its driveway and remind myself that I have no where else to be. I’m already here. No timetable to follow.

I rest here on this beautiful plush beach towel surrounded by my favorite things. Magazines, inspirational reading, journals, an ice cold grapefruit water and some licorice. A pencil case full of pens and highlighters. Tall full, lush trees…a private forest. Ivy climbing up the house and fence. Oodles of cushions to add color and comfort to this outdoor living space. Two swings I’m tempted to spend some time on, giving me a full view of the garden alive with lettuce, tomatoes, zucchini and pumpkins. Since my sister is the queen of mini lights, the garden yard lends itself nicely to twilight.

I’m not starving. Quite the opposite. I have fifty pounds worth of clothes in my suitcase, so, ample. I have a comfortable bed to sleep in, courtesy of my niece whose been relegated to the basement for my stay. We walked to Streetsville for a Starbucks this evening. Walking indicating health. Starbucks indicating wealth. And I’m so grateful for this ‘state of the union’ in my life.

I’m grateful for the people in my life. I’m grateful for the love in my life. I’m grateful for the faith in my life. I’m grateful that He will never leave or forsake us. So He’s with me matter what, no matter why, no matter when. I truly do have everything thing I need. And I’m learning to make this everything I want.

Carb Heaven

geriraedean

Every mouthful of this creamy, flaky chicken pot pie puts me in a trance. I am reading a novel by Frances Mayes , who writes dreamily about life in Tuscany. As I am transported to Italy through every word, every bite of this pot pie is reinforcing the tastes and the ambiance as I eat and read. Reading Frances’ books is like going on a vacation. I know Chicken Pot Pie is not an Italian dish but the richness of the pastry and the flavors of the herbs I added put me in that gastronomic mindset.

Since the era of working fulltime began (and its fine by the way – I’ve finally adjusted quite nicely), I don’t often get the chance to play in my kitchen anymore. I stopped at the local market (aka Sobey’s) to pick up a few ingredients and went home to bake my first loaf of fermented sourdough bread and make chicken pot pie from the leftover Hutterite chicken I had roasted for our Father’s Day picnic. I detest wasting food. I set up my blue tooth speaker with my favorite playlists and fixed myself a drink (apple juice in a wine glass) and began to peel and chop carrots and potatoes and onions. I steamed the peas I purchased from the frozen food section but soon will be able to get from my backyard garden. I sautéed onions in butter. There’s nothing like the smell of onions and butter cooking (or the taste for that matter). I ate a bit too much of this concoction and had to chop up some more onions. What did you have for supper last night? Fried onions! Yup. I’m good with that.

I picked all the leftover chicken pieces off the carcass and cut up the leftover picnic chicken and threw it all in the bowl with the vegetables. Next, I heavily seasoned it with salt, pepper, thyme, parsley, and savory spice. Then it was time for the rue (cream sauce). One must stand over this sauce with a whisk since cream burns so quickly. So worth it though. After I add it to the chicken and vegetables, I usually have a couple of bites without the crust. It could be eaten out of a bowl and enjoyed.

But that flaky, buttery pastry wrapped around the filling like a cloak is well worth the effort. It was amazingly fortuitous to have received this recipe from a family planning a celebration of life I catered a couple of years ago. I will never use another. I rolled out the pastry that I had previously made and froze. I always love to have some ready made pastry in the freezer in case the pie mood strikes. It speeds up the process so much. I usually make two pies at a time if I am going to the trouble anyway. Not to mention, I usually dirty every dish, pot and pan in the house for this particular entrée so I may as well make two. I had a small piece of pastry left so I rolled it out so I could cut out daisy’s with a cookie cutter to decorate the top of the pie. A quick and thorough egg wash and into the oven they both went.

While I was preparing the pot pie I was going through all the rising and preheating steps for my sourdough bread. I have a huge tub of dough sitting in the fridge and just schwack off a lump for a small loaf of bread. I will do something more exciting next round. I want to add nuts and raisins or cranberries and seeds and cut interesting designs with scissors. But I kept it simple this time so I could learn the process. Pastry and bread. Does it get any more carb heaven than that?

It took me til 11:00 pm to clean up the mess and complete the baking time. I usually go to bed at 9:30 because there actually is such a thing as ‘beauty sleep’ and I am desperate for it, but it was well worth it as I flopped into bed feeling domestic and earthy for having made something delicious, healthy and not full of preservatives.

That brings me to my lunch at work today. Eating chicken pot pie and reading Frances Mayes. Now that’s the way to escape the routine and get the most out of a hum drum life.

 

The Problem of Trust

geriraedean
Just trust God… now that’s a tall order even for a believer, let alone a nonbeliever.  Just trust God.  It sounds so easy.  And for those that know He is worthy and capable of our trust, it should be easy, right?  But its not that easy.  Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus but to trust and obey. Dum dee dum dee dum dee dum.  If you believe that trusting IS obeying then …where do I even start?
There are many things to fear in this world we live in.  And its getting scarier all the time.  Even the non-believers, that do not frequent themselves with the Word and its truth (that tells us the days are getting progressively darker and more difficult), can sense this is what’s happening.  Its a scary world out there.  But we are not to fear those things which are scary.  Why not?  Because God did not give us the spirit of fear- so we know where that is coming from.  But how do I override my sinful, mortal nature that fears these scary things?  Because I live in the reality of what is going on down here on earth.  Difficult and scary is my reality.  Probably yours too.
So when I tell someone, who is not a Word reader or doesn’t have a relationship with our heavenly Father, that they just need to trust God….well… it sounds ridiculous even as I say it. And, in fact, I don’t often use this approach because it sounds preposterous.
What makes you trust a friend?  or a family member?  or a system?  or physics?  What makes us walk onto a plane that weighs 735,000 lbs (346 tons) and believe that once it rises to an altitude of 35,000 ft that its going to stay in the air for 4, 9, 16 for 24 hours?  But we just do. We usually don’t even think about it?   Why not?  Because airplanes have proven themselves over the decades.  We have seen and heard of them rising and landing and crossing oceans time and time again.  People walk safely off planes every day.  That’s not to say there are no accidents but they are not the norm.
We trust our doctor.  Why would we trust a complete stranger with our health?  I mean,  seriously, why?  Yet, most people do whatever the Doctor tells them, because it stands to reason that after four years of undergraduate study and four years of medical school and three to eight years of residency and over $170,000 of student loan debt, that these people know what they are doing.  So we trust them.  They have proven themselves.
What about getting on an elevator, an escalator or a ski lift?  What about driving?  There are crazies on the road every single day.  People that are substance abusers.  People that are sleep deprived.  People that are half blind.  Yet we get on the freeway and trust that everyone mostly knows what they are doing and we trust the traffic systems that are put in place.  If we see someone with their signal light on, then we just believe that they are planning to turn or switch lanes.  We’d never be able to survive if we didn’t trust people and systems somewhat.  We sit down on that chair with every belief that its going to hold us up.
What about trusting your husband or wife?  They have declared undying love for you and made that huge step to commit and take responsibility for you and they have proved themselves over time and you just – trust them.  Now, let’s not confuse people for God.  He is trustworthy by nature and cannot be untrustworthy by character but people, in their sinfulness and mortalness (aka selfishness) can have a lapse and betray you.  But for the most part,  you trust your family and friends because they have proven themselves over time.   They’ve been there for you. And that’s the secret. Proven trust over time.  A person has to earn trust and once its broken, its very difficult to regain it. Not impossible, but difficult.  We betray God all the time and He still comes through for us.  He still loves us.  He will still ‘never leave or forsake us” and He still hears our prayers and answers them (in the way that HE sees as wisest).
So if you have no experience of God coming through for you, ever, that you recognize, then you will not be inclined to trust Him.  Even those of us, who have awareness of God coming through for them, find this trust difficult.  Because we cannot see Him and many people have never felt His presence or recognized His intervention on their behalf.
I am SO grateful to declare that I have felt His presence.  I have heard his voice in my life.  I have seen His work on my behalf. I’ve experienced miracles and healings and other answers to prayer.  So I have every reason to trust Him.  Every. Single. Reason. and I still find it hard.  I still want to do my own thing because I feel I know myself better than He does and I feel like I know whats best for me, because I know me.  Haha.  He knows me better than I know myself. Do I know how many hairs are in my head?  I often believe that HE needs a little help…from me. So I do things that are better left to the Creator and most often, make a mess of things or at the very least, settle for second best or worse.
Why can’t I just trust Him when I know so much about His character and His past performance?  I’m working on it.  I know in my head that He is totally trustworthy.  I just have to get my heart to catch up.   Lord don’t give up on me yet.  Or ever.

Silver White Winters That Melt into Springs

geriraedean

I totally surprised myself and had a wonderful day at work. It’s incredible how changing your mindset about a certain thing can actually change your experience. I was in a lighthearted, jovial mood when I got in my car to drive home. I snaffled down my ‘way home from work’ apple. A couple of weeks ago I decided to embrace the apple-a-day philosophy. (And I’m not talking about electronic devices. If you were a fly on the wall, you’d believe I was).

I also started a seemingly easy and insignificant habit of meditating for ten minutes each morning before I leave for work. The yogic wisdom I borrowed this idea from suggests thinking about what you most want in life and imaging and feeling it as already true. I decided my focus during meditation would be the simple truth that God will never leave or forsake me. Therefore, no matter what today brings, God is with me and I concentrate on feeling His presence and deep breathing. Works wonders.

A blizzard broke out halfway home. Totally surprised me. The closer I got to home the less visability there was. Roads starting to get slick. I gratefully pulled up to my driveway and eased my car into the garage, excited about the prospect of changing into my flannels and sitting by the fire surrounded by all my favorite things. No, not girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes…

I’m giddy with indecision as to what to engage in first. I can hear the faint jingling of our chimes out on the deck, in between songs. I’m listening to the classic crooning of Nat King Cole but hope I have time for Ella, Louis, Frank, Miles, Harry and Josh before the sandman calls me to bed. I decided to read my journal from the past long weekend and was astonished to find that the information I copied from my Yoga-Well Being magazine totally resonated with the wisdom I copied down Galatians 5. I’m going to implement some changes. Small doable changes so as not to get overwhelmed and stop all good things. There is so much I want to put down on paper in one form or another. Writing brings such clarity.

Then there’s my iPad calling me in soft whispers to browse Netflix and Pinterest. There’s a stack of inspirational magazines enticing me to flip through their glossy pages for tantalizing tips and wisdom on everything from “Mindful strategies too feel balanced, happy and healthy”, “Pursuing Authenticy: The world needs who you were made to be”, “Starting your dream business”or “The heart and soul of cooking” and “Inspiring workspaces of extraordinary women”.

When can I read all these interesting books? I want to know how to ‘Rise Strong’. I want to ‘Taste and See’. I’d love to be ‘Fiercehearted’. I’d love to be ‘Fully Alive’. And ‘Embraced’. I want to experience ‘The Gifts of Imperfection’. To learn to live ‘Present over Perfect’ or ‘Brave the Wilderness’. ‘Girl, Wash Your Face’ has proved to be just what I needed. Can’t wait for ‘Girl, Stop Apologizing’. ‘Authentic Living’ has me pondering all these things in my heart.

Robert Louis Stevenson wrote a short but powerful poem. ‘The world is so full of a number of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings”. Short. Simple. Succinct.

I forgot to mention the arrangement of roses gracing the table where I sit. The dainty rose gold mulled apple cider candles burning warmly around the table. And my tall takeout mug of cold apple juice (Lexie and I have become addicted lately. There’s no middle of the road for us. We either dislike a thing or we’re addicted). No added sugar. In fact, I usually drop a few ice cubes in to dilute and chill it. My ruffled black flannel pyjama pants covered with white hearts coupled with a cozy black loose, tailed vintage lulu lemon sweater completes this moments favorite things.

Keep It and Hide It Method

geriraedean

I’ve been watching Marie Kondo lately. I wanted to see what all the hoopla was about. Maybe everyone loves her because she is so cute and mini and can’t speak English. I think that’s her schtick. She lova mess, it make her happy. Cha-Ching. Cha-Ching. Being her interpreter would be a great gig, except I don’t speak Japanese. I realize now that I’ve been Marie Kondo-ing our house for years, in my own way. It’s certainly not rocket science or revelational. Even her little ritual of thanking the house before they begin the purge. Hello? I’ve been praying a blessing over our home and its people for as long as I have had a home and a family. I could easily go into people’s homes and tell them to toss everything that doesn’t bring them joy but I’m afraid that some people would probably just burn down thier homes.

You know what brings me joy? My beautiful stuff. Seriously, folks, most of the things in my home DO bring me joy. That’s why they are here. I love the simple clean look but I also love my sentimental treasures. One problem with being a creative is that 60% of the ‘stuff’ in our home, I have created myself thus, it brings me joy. The other 40%, I’m planning on making more sentimental stuff out of. The armoire that I found in the ditch at the lake – we repainted it and it brings me joy. The boardroom chairs that I inherited from three jobs ago and recovered and use in my living room – they bring me joy. The canvases that my daughter and I have painted – Spark joy. The seasonal décor that I switch out every six months brings me joy. The four sets of dishes that I use alternatively when I entertain, spark joy. The bedroom furniture from my childhood that we repainted and Lexie uses in her room – spark joy. Knowing I have clothes in every size I have ever been brings me joy. Since I have an incurable medical condition characterized by weight fluctuation (its actually quite common), it means I will always have something to wear. Can’t even remember the last time I said, “I can’t go because I have nothing to wear”.

I’d better be careful that all those sparks of joy don’t ignite and start a fire. That’s one way to get rid of all your stuff.

My method is keep, organize, stash and camouflage. Here’s the thing. Creatives have a lot of stuff because we have a lot of ideas and see a lot of potential and we can imagine making something out of just about everything. In my case, I’m going to make something out of it and make millions selling it on Etsy. My creative supplies (and I have a lot) are all organized in see-through containers that stack on each other. And these are stacked in a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit keeping them out of the way and off the floor with the added bonus of visibility. I have three sets of filing cabinets in the basement that I also use for storage of my event planning paraphernalia. Fabrics that I am going to use imminently are stored in plastic three drawer Rubbermaids (see-through) for easy access. All else, that I’m not regularly using (like Christmas decor, home decor fabrics, seasonal clothes, kids toys saved for posterity or grandchildren, whichever comes first), is stored in numbered and indexed Rubbermaids. I also decided about fifteen years ago, after witnessing many neighbors and friends homes flooding from monsoon rains that hit our fair city, that there would be no more cardboard boxes or plastic bags in our basement. I began the process of switching everything we were storing into plastic rubbermaid containers. Each bin is numbered with all contents listed in an electronic notebook, making adding or subtracting contents easier. Also, extremely helpful when I’m looking for that thing that I know I have.  I look it up on my list and go directly to that bin number and voila! I have the bins stacked four high and seven stacks wide (do the math) and have a bit of a Tetris method to access every one.

Every time I purge, which is at least once a year, contents are rearranged as I consolidate and purge. In all the other rooms of the house I have lovely wicker baskets and designer storage boxes strategically placed to fit in with the rest of the decor that cleverly disguise how much stuff I have.  As a result, there is never clutter sitting all over (except if Lexie is in the house).  Sorry lexie…. you know it’s true. But I still loving having you’re clutter around.  It means so many great things.

Hence, I actually have a LOT of stuff but it doesn’t look like it. I have become very skilled in this technique. I think I need my own reality show. I think there are many that would prefer my method. Keep it and hide it.