My happy little pansies.  My voluptuous petunias. My regal geraniums. My dancing zinnias. I have let them go.  I was wearing fleece, down and boots yesterday.  Somehow I just can’t reconcile watering my plants today.  They’ve served me well.  They’ve brought joy to my heart, life to frost’s death and color to winter’s greys.

Repost from September 2015

I DO love New York in the fall. I’ve never experienced autumn in New York but I have enjoyed it in summer and I have been enchanted by it in winter so given the fact that fall is my favorite time of year I am sure that it would be exactly as I imagine and what I’m imagining – I love. It’s like Camelot. The winter is forbidden till December and exits March the second on the dot. By order, summer lingers through September. In Camelot. The rain may never fall till after sundown. By eight, the morning fog must disappear. In short, there’s simply not a more congenial spot for happily-ever-aftering than there in Camelot.

Last weekend I was in Vancouver as fall began to unveil its lovely face. We sauntered through Stanley Park (a wannabe Central Park) and I collected fallen maple leaves (since maples don’t grow here in Alberta). I also stumbled upon a broken branch from an oak tree which I dragged through the park and loaded in my brothers rented van to use as the centerpiece for our Thanksgiving dinner – it still had acorns on it and rich fall colored leaves. My heart leapt for joy when I received the fall cups from Starbucks with the Warmly Fall sleeve wrapped around it. There is a reason why the Pumpkin Spice Latte is so popular – its a sentimental thing. I remember kicking through the crisp fallen leaves as I walked to school as a child. I loved the crunch of them underfoot. I loved the smell of the crisp air. There is something about donning a comfy cozy stylish sweater for the first time since last winter. Something about holding a hot beverage to your lips and taking in the warm aroma. Even though it’s still warm enough to wear summer clothes I have dragged all the items I could get away with for fall to the forefront. The boots, the sweaters, the scarves, the vests…..I love cool weather dressing, it’s so much more…. forgiving. Love sitting around a crackling fire outdoors or in. Try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow. Try to remember the kind of September when grass was green and grain was yellow. Try to remember and if you remember then follow. Try to remember when life was so tender that no one wept except the willow. Try to remember when life was so tender that dreams were kept beside your pillow. Try to remember when life was so tender that love was an ember about to billow Try to remember and if you remember then follow.

I’m so over summer! It has its charms to be sure but I love that we have seasons. September marks a time of new beginnings much more so than does January. First of all I have much more energy and motivation in the fall. As a mom, it always marked the season of kids going back to school and therefore freeing up much more time for me to accomplish whatever. It felt like a new start and it still does. Two weekends ago we dropped both of our adult children off in Vancouver for at least a season and I am feeling very fancy free and happy go lightly. I’m looking forward to evenings by the fireside reading and sewing with cinnamon pumpkin spice candles burning in the background and Bennett and Gaga (or Frank and Ella) filling the room with soothing music. I have this urge to go to the Farmers Market and bring home my spoils to make soups and chili’s and salsa and such. Apple pies…oh how I used to love to fill the freezer with apples pies for the winter. I may do so again this autumn. I may make salsa as well. I’m going to set aside my Friday’s for quilting and my evening’s for studying and reading and blogging (watch for it). I’ve got projects lined up til Christmas and it’s not overwhelming me, it’s exciting me. I’m going to try my hand at French cooking – first up – beef bourguignon. Oh yes – mustn’t forget – I have to finish last Christmases puzzle. Which was New York at Christmas…we’ve come full circle folks. Last December Mom, Lexie and I went to New York in December. Magical. Deep in December it’s nice to remember although you know the snow will follow. Deep in December it’s nice to remember without the hurt the heart is hollow. Deep in December it’s nice to remember the fire of September that made us mellow. Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow.

Mike and I are toying with the idea of joining the kids in Vancouver for Thanksgiving (at my brothers). I truly think I will revisit Stanley Park and Granville Island. Thanksgiving is the precursor to Christmas for me. Well I guess it is in the states too but their Thanksgiving is about 6 weeks later. Too bad for them. I desperately want to play the Home Alone Christmas album but I’m saving it until after thanksgiving. Not going to be easy but when I break it out, it’s going to be so worth it. In the meantime, I will quilt and bake and sew and cook and blog and read by the fire and wear cozy sweaters and hang at Starbucks and drive to work in the dark and watch ‘You’ve Got Mail’ a bazillion times.

I told a friend today that life wasn’t all about the money and I truly believe that.  I haven’t always believed that.  It was a long time coming.

Where this day began was out in the yard watering my plants which are miraculously still alive on September 6.  Then the plan was to lock myself into my studio and slipcover cushions for eight hours but on my way back into the house I tripped over the 40 pound barrel of apples we picked on Tuesday night,  so, something had to be done with those.  I dug out my handy dandy vintage apple-peeler, corer and slicer with little hope that it would work for these mini apples.  It has its own temperament and usually plays coy but it was in fine form today.  It did everything it was supposed to with those little apples and then some and I decided I had better make an apple crisp  to see how the apples tasted when cooked.  Not all apples work for baking and I had no idea what kinds apples these were.  No name brand?  I didn’t want to waste the rest of the day making apple pies that nobody would eat.

The reason I changed the name of my blog to ‘The Red Plaid Apron’ is because…..I am writing a cookbook.  An inspirational, lifestyle, artistic cookbook.  I’m writing it because I have a story to tell.  Well, we all do but most just don’t have the inclination to put it down in sentences.  But I want to share my story because I have so enjoyed reading the stories of others.  Especially the real, honest, poignant, strong, encouraging stories of women of faith. Some didn’t start out in faith but found their faith through along the way.   As I read their words and stories  I realize that we are all on similar journeys and we all have something to offer.  Sharing your story makes you feel ‘less alone’ and more ‘understood’.  And I’m going to do it with food.

As I have shared previously, I love to eat and I love to make food.  What can I say?  It’s one of my languages of love…even to myself.  So I am on quest to make better food.  ‘Good for you’ food.  Food as medicine.  But also food as love and nourishment.  My motto is ‘all things in moderation’.  Well that actually hasn’t been my motto at all.  My food motto has been more of “if a little is good then a lot must be wonderful”.  Not so much.  I’m starting to realize that all things in moderation will serve me better.  More wise words from a wise person are these  ‘All things may be permissible but are they beneficial?’

But back to my cookbook.  I’ve been collecting cookbooks from the discount table at the local book store for about a year and a half now and I have a wonderful collection.  I’m not planning on making all the recipes –  ever.  I bought them to read more as novels.  I only bought hardcovers.  I only bought cookbooks with stories about the people, the geography and food customs.  I only bought cookbooks with beautiful photography.  They had to be under $10.  I feel bad for the authors of those cookbooks because I am picking them up for $3 and $5 but I’m loving their books.  Maybe someday my Cookbook will be on the discount table.  I don’t care.  I’m doing it anyway.  These books are now my inspiration and my education.

So I am going to spend the next sixteen months testing recipes and sharing my experiences with you on this blog.  Possibly making up recipes.  I’m going to resurrect and modify old family recipes that were my favorites growing up.  Most will be healthy but a few will be decadent.  All things in moderation.  One has to live, right?  And celebrate, right?  And I will do all of this wearing my Red Plaid Apron.  (There is a previous blog post about my red plaid apron).

In fact I started tonite.  My daughter and I have committed to eating much healthier.  It finally hit us…why are we abusing our bodies as we have been?  Do we feel great?  or even good?  A resounding NO.  We are feeling kind of Meh.  So we are committed to eating mostly whole foods as much as possible and nothing processed.  For the most part.  That is the goal.  So I promised her I would make homemade mayonnaise tonite. Because I can make it out of whole foods and then we can enhance other whole foods to our liking.  Well….I made two batches and broke them both.  One is not as broken as the other.  But they mean what they say when they tell you to use ‘light’ olive oil and ALL ingredients at room temperature.  This is key.  Oh…and if you are using a regular blender.  Make sure its turned off before taking the lid off.  Unless you like to have homemade mayo in your hair.

I also clarified some butter. This does not mean I gave it a lecture.  It means that I melted the butter and skimmed off the frothy white dairy portion for those that don’t do dairy.  Seriously you can barely tell the difference when you are eating baked potatoes.  YUM.  Or popcorn…which I am trying to limit as corn, apparently, was never meant for humans.  When I think of the prodigal son eating with the pigs, I’m thinking it couldn’t have been that bad if they were eating corn.  I love corn.  However, the body doesn’t digest corn.  How do I know this?  Do you have to ask?

Finally…I finally made Alfredo cheese sauce out of cashews.  I’ve been meaning to do this forever.  I have to admit I was skeptical.  Cheese flavor from cashews?  I felt the same way Mike does when I tell him that portobello mushrooms taste like steak.  But it really is awesome.  I added quite a bit of real garlic because…flavor. I sauteed the onions before I put them in as well because…well, flavor.  Lemon juice to take the cashew flavor away.  I even used nutritional yeast.  I can’t even believe I had that in the house but I did and I used it.  Not sure what that contributed.  Feel free to enlighten me if you are wise about these things.

Tomorrow’s adventures with food….I have a barrel full of small apples I picked from a friends yard that I have to do something with..stay tuned

I have chosen to give my blog a new look.  The reason for this is that I am in the process of giving my life a new look.  I’ve finally decided, after much deliberation, that I would start living my best life.  What am I waiting for?  I am 61.  Probably in the last third of my life.  Why not go out with with grace and a legacy?  I’ve been holding back and back peddling in regards to my life because……well that is a very good question.  Why am I not just charging forward and living the best life I can?

For so long I have listened to voices that tell me, you can’t do that.   You don’t deserve that.  You can’t have that.  You can’t go there.  You can’t think that.  You can’t believe that. That’s too dangerous. That’s too scary.  That’s too risky.  That’s impossible.  That’s foolish.  That’s not practical.  You don’t have time.  You don’t have talent.  You don’t have skill.  You don’t have education.  You don’t have influence.  You don’t have fame.  You reached your peak…its all downhill from here.  It can’t be all down hill from here.  I can’t have reached my peak because I feel I’ve barely begun.

So no more sitting in the corner waiting for someone to ask me to dance.  No more waiting for the report card looking for A+’s with honors.  No more fear of the pink slip.  No more thinking someone else cares about my dreams and goals and wants to make them happen.  No more letting people and life intimidate me.  I want to be the Proverbs 31 woman that is clothed in strength and dignity and can laugh at the days to come.

Its time.  I think the older a woman gets the less tolerance she has for not getting it right.  Less tolerance for not getting what she wants from life.  The less tolerance she has for toxic people and ideals and anything that is dragging her down.  At least that seems to be my experience.   I’m not willing to sit back and let life happen and just react to whatever it throws my way.  To pick up the pieces of lost dreams and a broken and bruised heart.

So I am attacking every area of my life.  No stone will be left unturned.  My creative skills and calling.  My health.  My relationships.  My finances.  My time.  My ministry.  My legacy.  What am I leaving as a legacy? That is the most important item.

I always start of each New Year with a word from the Word. This year that word was stewardship. I’ve got four months to get  my stewardship  act together…. or a lifetime.

One of Steven Covey’s principles in the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People is to ‘begin with the end in mind’.  He even goes as far as to suggest a person writes their own Eulogy.  What do you want people to say about you when you are gone?  How do you want others to honor and remember you?  Then that is how you should live your life (with the end in mind).  Its not morbid at all…its wise.  None of us is getting out of here alive.