New year's Dilemma #1

Here is my dilemma: I love food.

Couple that with my favorite hobby, which happens to be food, and there you find a bad combination for a famous new year’s resolution.

I can’t help it and refuse to decline from it. I love food. I love cooking it, I love eating it, and I ‘ve recently rediscovered my love of baking! So how do I lose 50 pounds and still eat like the food junkie I am?

Just a second, to get things clear, let me explain my self. I love to taste. Taste is, I must say one of my favorite senses. Its that explosion of taste in my mouth that gives me pure glee. For example, I made fresh tomato pasta one night. You wouldn’t believe how simple it is. I mean the ingredients are quite literally tomato and herb! Even with simplicity, there is so much taste. Savour it with me. The tomato is juicy and slightly tangy. Your tongue plays with hints of parsley and thyme, and oregano! The herb is so fragrant, you can smell it from inside the cavities of your mouth.

You see, with such a delectable dish how could I, how could anyone torture themselves with a month long commitment to canned soup?

That’s just part of it. What of the cooking? I love cooking. Its wonderful to smell each ingredient as it is chopped on the cutting board and placed in a pot or pan. The crisp sizzle of olive oil and vegetables is delightful. The sound holds delectable notes of tasty things to come. The smells are wonderful, my kitchen erupts with aromas. After the preparation, the house smells of warm delicacies long after the meal has ended.

Then there’s baking....I could go on and on about this subject.... Food is not something to gourge on, that’s not what I’m trying to convey at all, but it is meant to be enjoyed. My favorite quote about food comes form the movie Kate & Leopold.

Leopold says that food is art. It is brought to the table and displayed for all to see and to taste. Because the art does not stop at sight, but becomes art for the tongue.

There is the underlying reason of why I love food, because it is art that touches so many senses. It practically becomes absorbed in your whole being. Sight, smell, taste, touch, even the sense of hearing, well, that is if the chef allows you in the kitchen. And no one can appreciate it most than it’s maker, the cook.

With a love affair like mine, how, why do I put mysef through torture? The why is easy. I need to lose 50 pounds for my self esteem. But how? I’ll let you know as soon as I clear out my pantry of soups.

Dirt

I associate dirt with the early childhood of young boys. Boys, Dirt, it just goes together. I am like my mother in that I am a clean freak. It's really not hard to believe. My motto is,"Everything has its place and should be put back when not used!" Dirt just belongs outside on the ground, underneath my shoes. It should not be on me, my pants or on top of my shoes and heaven forbid if I find more than necessary inside my home!

I found an article about research a group of scientists have discovered about our germ-i-o- phobe society. Children should play in the dirt. Lay off on the germ-x and go for the mud. Scientists discovered that the bacteria in dirt builds up a child's immunity. A number one reason, I think why we have allergies and annoying skin conditions like eczema. I myself am victim to both, and yet try to live in a blissful ignorance of the fact.

The medication makes my skin age faster than normal, bleh! and if it doesn't, it just does not work! Now I find that the solution is simple, to just play in the dirt! Well, I wish it was that simple. The thought of building mud pies is great when one you're five. But not at 21! I wonder if mud masque facials count?

visit: Children Should be Allowed to Play in the Dirt

Sized for Deception

 Here is my idea figure. Ridiculous, isn't it.   I'm not kidding.  I don't know any woman who is ever "kidding" about her outer appearance.   We may pretend to kid, but deep down there is always some unsettling feeling that makes our unsatisfaction quicken.   

My husband and I, for the past week and a half, have gone to the gym everyday.   Here is the part where the fitness experts shake their heads and sternly say, "...three times a week... you'll hurt yourself like that!" There is a brand new gym in our small town.  Both Chris and I were adamant about getting a gym membership after looking down at the growing pudges beneath our chests. We had tried the free way.   We went to the park for three days (these were spaced over a week) and then, well, we didn't go again.   Chris and I were too easily succumbed to the excuses we made for ourselves.  

There is something about a new facility that screams, "Use me!"  At least, it screamed that to me.  So began our week long (and hopefully much longer) love affair with the gym.  This gym had everything, not to mention the technological gadgets.   There was absolutely no excuse not to work out now. And it was 24/7!   We are late night people, and I really like the idea of going to the gym at 11 pm!  (Insomniac)

Last night as I stepped from the elliptical machine, I wondered, "Why?"   Why?  Because I want to look like that! (Picture)  Why is it that I am never satisfied with myself.  God gave me this body there's no reason I shouldn't be satisfied with it.   I have not taken good care of it as of late, but that's why I'm trying to reverse the effects I've achieved.   Once that is done, will I be happy with it, or will I find something else wrong with it?  My friends and I talk about this often, how we feel the need to be skinny and look good.  It's media pressure, but we can't get away from it, even if we turn off the cable. Our biggest topic is how we lament over what we looked like five years ago.  Isn't that true.  Don't we all do that.  So, why, again, can we not be happy with ourselves the way we are?  

Deception, lies, trickery.   It's all from that infamous angel we call Devil.  I imagine,  him in an overworked musky factory with lies at one end of the belt and then a pretty little package with our favorite color on the end.  (With our names on it, of course.) We see images of gorgeous women and hope, secretly, that one we will look like that. The truth of the matter is that that woman wasn't even a real picture, but a compilation or maybe a photo shopped image of the near perfect model.   Then we get pictures of the woman above in our minds and become so distressed when the results are not the same.  If you are anything like me, you proceed to gorge yourself on all the food that you denied yourself one month earlier.   

Years from now, I wonder if I will be doing the same thing to myself as now.   I might be sitting at a table, drinking coffee with friends and lamenting over how we looked those first years of marriage and wishing we were happy.  I won't be that person anymore. I'll be happy with what I have, and take care of it.   Life will be so much simpler!

Coming to Terms With Self

Looking out my back door window, I couldn't help but feel how perfect this morning is. It isn't your typical sunny morning. No. The sky is grey as gosling down feather. Clouds roll inconspicuously by in a flat painted finish. If the world was just as surreal, it would make one wonder about reality. In starking contrast trees and grass added the excitement in view. It is a hopeful, silent excitement. It's hard to describe. It's a feeling so rare, that I wonder if I am the only one to experience it. It has been raining, off and on. The recent tropical storms far south in the gulf are to be thanked for that. Most definitely, my newly budding flowers thank God for that. I haven't been the responsible gardener that I hoped to be when I planted their seeds. Staring at the scenery. A line from Howl's Moving Castles floats in among my fleeting thoughts. "Somehow, when you're old, all you want to do is stare at the scenery."

Old, no, I'm not old, but I've grown. It's been one year and a month since Chris and I were married. It was a happy year, full of change, excitement, even tears and sadness. It's enligtening, I find, to be thinking of the years in review. Thinking about what I once was as compared to now. I'm sure my friends see it. I'm not the shy young girl hiding behind books but a fully realized woman. I'm more apt to talk for one, I have more opinnions and don't fail share them with anyone around me. It was happiness that changed me. I find confidence in myself that I never knew was there. I find that I'm an actual person. It's strange how love changes things. Love and happiness, that Is.

A year ago, I had an agenda. I was to finish college, become an emerging artist, and be halfway, if not through a whole novel. I'm totally different. I've only finished my AA and oddly enough, I'm okay with that. Where once I thought that a degree means everything in this world including personal standing, now I think of moral standings and everything but intellect. I've finished a total of 3 canvases in the past year, not quite enough to make a name for myself. Those 3 canvases now hang on various walls in my house, or in my lesson area, all for my benefit. How selfish is that! And that novel, has about 4 pages to it, where in the last paragraph I lost my whole reason for writing.

I'm not the same person. I've changed more over the last few years than I've ever done in my whole life. For once in my life, I am certain about my future. I found that I love teaching. Perhaps that was the very gift that God gave me, but for all my selfish motives desired to cover it up, with so called, "declarations of independence." Contrary to what my mother told me, I love being the housewife. Here's the part where all the housewives tell me, "Just you wait another couple years!" But really, I love making the home, pleasing and comfortable. My motive, my husband. With all the stress he has had (good stress) he deserves to come home and unwind in a clean and uncluttered home. We have no worries about finances, a huge blessing! We are even looking to buy our first home in one year! The rest of my college career is planned out and waiting to happen. I have no complaints. I can't even complain about the weather.
I know, it will happen. All those not so wonderful moments in life, but maybe I'll remember that life's really not that bad in a larger view. In fact, It's pretty amazing.

steel toe boots

argh!!!!!!! i should wear steel toe boots when my toes get stepped on. Then it wont hurt so much.

Cry

I've read the postmarked books that a friend of mine has.  It's a really cool idea and it makes money without ever writing a book.  I wish I had thought of it.  People anonomously send in letters and postcards alike with their deepest darkest secrets.  It's really interesting.  The first few books were amusing to read, nothing serious was in it.  The third edition has some heavy stuff in it, though.  Sometimes it is good to tell someone or anyone your secret just to get it off your shoulders.  The idea seems like a good one. Then maybe if you tell the right person, you don't feel alone or singled out. Maybe you'd feel that there are people who understand your pain and support you and even let you cry on your shoulder.  In the third edition, many people admited to being raped or molested but were to embarrassed to tell anyone about it.  Some were ashamed that they found that they liked it.   It makes me want to cry.  What kind of world do we live in? 

  It makes me wonder how these people live.  Do they think they are beautiful or handsome?  My husband has a poem on his laptop about an abundant lady.  It's very descriptive.  And in the end he says she is beautiful.   I think that's beautiful. I wonder if these people have people in their lives that think they are beautiful.  My husband tells me I'm pretty every day.  I wonder if they ignore the comment with loads of faked humility of just dismiss it.  I wonder if they are brave enough to apreciate it. I wonder if they've cried themselves to sleep countless nights wishing for someone to love and to know them for who they are.  I wonder if they pray that God  would take the shame away.  I wonder how many practice the perfect smile in the bathroom mirror. 

Why does life have to hurt so much? I want to cry with these people surround them with hugs and tell them I understand. Everything will be okay, there are people in life that make life worthwhile.  But then I ask myself, were those empty words or not?

Thursday Morning

Beautiful day.

I wish I were outside.

I hope it's not cold.

But my house is a mess.

And I despise the sight of ugly wires!

Help!

Wholly Man

"The Temptation of Jesus." I silently read the subtitle aloud in my book.  Already, my mind was rushing through the context of the New Testament story. "Jesus goes into the desert,  Satan tempts him with bread and jumping off the cliff and the whole 'you can have my kingdom' thing."  I had already gotten my piece out of the story.  If you ask me, Satan was pretty stupid to tempt Jesus.  I mean, he's God for crying out loud.  I considered skipping over it. The Subtitle, "Jesus Begins His work in Galilee," sounded much more interesting. "No, I said I'd read through Matthew." Reluctantly I focused on the first word.  

Somehow I thought that when I read each word of the Bible slowly, it might count for something in Heaven.   Like when I ask Jesus about some instance in my life when I get in Heaven He may reply with something that starts with--Remember when I spent 40 days in the desert?  Perhaps actually reading it slowly will make me remember it, even after death.  

I read down to the sixth verse of chapter 4. That was when I really got into it.   "He has put his angels in charge of you. They will catch you in their hands so that you will not hit your foot on a rock." Satan was tempting Jesus for the second time, inviting him to jump off a cliff.  (Honestly!)  The next few texts read "Psalm 91:11-12." My Bible has these references throughout the Bible and I never bothered to look them up. I thought I understood pretty well what the verses said and I did not need a 2nd source or background info. This time was different though.  It wouldn't hurt and I was curious about it.  Flipping the previous pages I found the passage with no problem.  Psalms 91 starts out with this verse: "Those who go to God Most High for safety will be protected by the Almighty."  Stop.  Is this right?  Psalms 91:11-12, okay that's the verse.  The verse that Satan quotes is in this passage.  I read the whole passage. In Psalms, the you means everyone who goes to God for safety, comfort, love, completeness.

Not just Jesus, but all of us can place claim on Psalms 91. 

Do you realize what Satan is revealing about God?  God, Jesus, Him and all his many aspects is WHOLLY MAN. I've always read the temptation of Jesus and particularly that verse to mean that God was God. So when I read "He has put his angels in charge of you" I said to myself: " Well of course, he's God's son! Of Course God has angels surrounding him!"  In my mind Jesus was more like an enlightened version of man than man capable of failing.  This changes the whole concept of the story.   

Jesus is wholly man.  

Jesus gets hungry.   Especially after forty days of fasting I bet he was famished!   I have afriend who did a forty day fast.  She ate soup but it was still a forty day fast.  I love food and I couldn't imaging how hungry and how many cravings I would have after one week let alone forty days.  I bet, as God is the creator of all creation that he loves food too!  I mean fresh baked bread...Goat's meat....Hebrew reuben sandwiches.....how could God not love food?  

Jesus meets pride face to face.

And I get riled at the thought of someone calling something of mine their own.  The same pride the same feeling we get from something we call our own is the same feeling that Jesus dealt with from day to day.  I am proud of my work, my life, my acheivements....sound familiar? Jesus had every right to say this is my handiwork, but he didn't.  At that time he chose not to be wholly God or even half or one quarter God.  At that time and all the way 'til his death, He chose to be 100% Human.  Just like me and everybody else is human. 

Jesus was susceptible to flaunts.

He could have said look what I can do! I AM SPECIAL...more so than the likes of you.  But he didn't. He didn't jump the cliff to prove Satan. I do that.  Sometimes I play the piano louder than need be on purpose so that someone would say, wow.    Jesus didn't and he was wholly man, not some alien mix of the supernatural and mortality.  He was human. 

I had heard from a Pastor that the church needs to think as if they were unbelievers in order to reach unbelievers.  You know, get rid of all the churchy habits that make no sense to someone new to the congregation.  We need to put the bottom rung back on the ladder so new believers can reach Jesus too.   It never occurred to me that, that was what Jesus did. Jesus came down from the unattainable, 'you have to be perfect to get in heaven', heaven and said, see I'm just like you, no gimmicks, no tricks and not only will I get you a ticket into heaven, but I will show you how to live for me on earth.

Jesus said it was possible

He gave us hope.

Because Jesus, God was wholly man.

Night Scene

The sun makes it a habit of setting quickly in the winter. the worst of the season has passed.  Only a cool breeze floats by every now and then.  Trees are still barren of their leaves.  Their naked limbs leave a silhouetted impression against the setting sun and lingering city lights. In the hard wind of dead winter they give the impression of an ominous haunting.  They leave one with the feeling of loneliness and depression, but not now. 

 Now the trees have found beauty in their nakedness. The simplicity of creation is upheld in God's most unfeeling season.  Stripped bare of all lavishness there lies the true beauty and greatness beneath the foliage: endurance and strength.  They form the outline of the setting sun. Images of a hot burning sahara and umbrella trees reinforce the scene before my eyes.  Leafless trees mimick the umbrella trees burned into my cerebellum from years of National Geographic.  Underneath it all, the British man's heavy accent slowly narrates the african scene and even the one before me.  

Barely a minute, yellow becomes gold and orange until the sky's canvas is cloaked in hues of purple and finally night sky. From my window tree limbs shake with the wind. Like a tortured soul they point to the one lone star that appears in the sky.  Knowlege tells me the star is a planet, not too far from our own. However the trees disagree.  "Here, here," They whisper, "Here is our hope above the sky."

Creative Drainage

I believe that I am creatively drained.

Or maybe it's my sore throat.

I think one of my students gave it to me.

The Coffee Connoisseur

I think I'll have a Vanilla hazelnut mocha with a dip of espesso a shot of amaretto and white chocolate flavoring with whole milk. That cinnamon roll looks really good. Can you put that in the coffee too?   Don't forget it must be fair trade. 

--God

He's got the tastebuds to know each flavor. I wonder what e=he would really get in a coffee shop?

Black no cream, is this from the the southern border of sumatra or the south eastern region?

No maybe he'd say something more like this. 

Wow.    

That smells really good.

I think I'll have some of that.  

Ooooo, and are these chocolate covered espresso beans?

Hmmm......4 no, 7, no, I'll keep a running tab on those.  

Espresso beans on me!

Do you think there's a coffee shop in heaven?  I'd love to have Coffee with God.  

Stop and Smell the Flowers

Walmart has a coffee aisle. It is practically a coffee lover's paradise in the middle of the grocery store.  Every once in awhile you would see random people bend over to smell the individual aromas. Awkward, right?   I'm one of them.  I love the coffee aisle. The smells, the robust aroma's of whole bean coffee: it's all so wonderful.   

I found that I became true coffee lover when I took a whiff of a bean called foglifter.   No. It wasn't delicious.   In fact it smelled just like it sounded.   It smelled like a dank northern fog at 8:30 in the morning.  It would not find itself in my cup of coffee.  In fact that day I proceeded to smell up close and personal each coffee bean that was availible there.  To my surprise out of eight I only liked two.   Vanilla and A Hazelnut blend.   I've never been a picky person, up until now.   My guess is that it happens when you find the one flavorful good thing that just changes your world.   I don't know what it was for me.  I know it was just things that I would not eat. Those things that did not smell quite good.   

It has everything to do with your senses.   Not too long ago I read a book called "The Shack"   It was very good.  A friend in Bible college recommended it.  He said it made him look closer at the things in christianity that we take for granted.  The biggest thing I got out of it was creation.   By creation I mean full force creation starting at your senses.   

I am a preschool teacher at our church.   Just recently we finished a section on God created me. My favorite lesson was the one about senses.   We played with it all, touch, sight, sound, smell, and taste.   We felt ridges on rocks and the smooth underside of a leaf we used sound to recognize the voices of our friends and smell to sniff candles and scents.   And taste....well, taste was snack time and I can't be sure if the children actually tasted their food as it skipped their tongue to plop into their hungry bellies. 

Taste is my favorite sense. Taste is the pinnacle of all the other senses because it involves the other senses.   You smell it and touch it( Especially if it's spaghetti!) You see it  and if your momma cooked it, you hear it crackling and spiffing on the stove.   Then finally, lastly, comes the taste.  It's a culmination of all the other senses.   Try eating food when your nose is stuffed. Everything is bland and lacks color so to speak.   There was one week that I became very sick in college.  My mother came up to see me.  She also brought a whole chicken and broth and vegetables to make chicken soup.   My nose was stuffed and I had that sickly feeling in the back of my throat.  So eating the chicken soup was not the best experience.  I was grateful for Mother's love and kindness but I just could not bring myself to eat it. It stayed in my fridge for the next month until I finally tossed with the garbage.  I won't eat chicken soup now, all because I was sick when I ate it and all I can remember is that sickly feeling in the back of my throat.   Mother's cooking is great, there's flavor and balance and it's just wonderful, even her chickens soup.  But I can't eat it.

 In the shack, the author portrayed the Holy Spirit as a seemingly sporadic happy being that loved to grow her garden in fractals.  A fractal is a complex design that makes no sense at all but stepping back it makes perfect sense.  Chris told me that I am, act like and would love fractals.  I agreed with him. The book led me to think that God's creation is a fractal...I mean do yo know how messy the rainforest looks when you're on the ground? All those vines random spots for trees, even our forest here.   Oh, and the ultimate example ... us.   Women seem to be notorious for being a fractal.  Men are just as fractal as we women are.   And it's beautiful.   Senses are fractal on a small scale.   

 I went to a candle party last weekend. The hostess had a basket of candles on the middle of the floor.  My friends and I smelled each scent at least five times.  It was crazy fun. But all those smells together were overwhelming.  When we left I felt that my nose was intoxicated from so many smells, like it was hyped on caffeine. Each smell was unique and lovely.  Some were down right awkward, but I still loved to smell them.    

God gave us senses to enjoy his world.   Like enjoying a cup of coffee takes at the very least a good 45 minutes ( 30 in the winter) Enjoying God's creation takes one moment of every chance you get. Slow and steady, don't rush by it, don't ignore it, or don't bypass it with an unseeing eye.  Stop and look.  It makes me smile, just like a big hug from the Father himself. There's a reason why God gave us senses. 

A Cat Indiana Jones

    My cat, Callie decided to go on an adventure this afternoon.  Is it some innate conspiracy within a cat's mind that drives it to curiosity? 

 Or is it just with my cat.   We had just come home from lessons that morning and everything was perfect.   The perfect mess on the coffee table and the perfect mess of computer cords next to the window.  My husband sat there moseying online and getting the latest update from our circle of friends on Twitter. Just a typical Saturday afternoon.  

A few minutes later the sound of cupboards slamming and nudging of tile caught my attention. Callie.   If it's not one thing, it's another.  So I hurry to the kitchen and she's not there.   Callie had jumped from the kitchen counter to the fridge and climbed into our ceiling.   We live in a loft apartment connected to another loft apartment and there's an opening behind the ceiling tiles into our neighbor's kitchen. Chris assured me that she would be alright, that she would come out when she wanted.  That was before both of us heard the ruckus next door. Apparently Callie had climbed through the open braces in between the apartments and fell through our neighbor's ceiling. She cried and cried and we couldn't get to her.   

Now I love this cat.  She's sort of been my baby ever since we adopted her last December.   AND I COULDN"T DO ANYtHING. It's a horrible feeling to fear and wonder about the welfare of your loved ones. I know Callie's just a cat but she's our cat and that makes all the difference in the world.   Our neighbor's not home, she hasn't been all afternoon.  I'm grateful the dog is locked up and I pray to God she is alive and well.   The dog didn't bark when Callie fell through the ceiling so I ask myself if she is even alive.   The fear is an unfounded one, but honestly I don't know what I would do if she were.  What if our neighbor washed dishes before she left and left knives in the sink, oh gosh, I hope she's okay.   She's stopped crying, she doesn't even meow. I hope she's alright. If she is, I hope she has sense enough not to use the bathroom without a litter box or break anything or make a mess and when we get her back she's going to get the biggest lesson ever or maybe just lots of loving.   I miss her. The house is so empty without her. We've been waiting for hours for our neighbor to return home.   She couldn't have gone far her dog is still there and he needs to get out too. I find myself jumping to look out the window every time a car drives by.   So far I've cut out construction paper shapes for preschool at church tomorrow and watched CSI and sat in silence.  Chris assures me that she's okay but how does he know?  I think I heard her meow a little while ago. 

After waiting 4 hours or so our neighbor shows up and we meet her at the door with our wild tale.   Imagine coming home to that! After much searching we find her cowering in my neighbor's box spring mattress.   All's well that ends well.  Of course being a cat she's perfectly fine.  It's kind of nice though. She's been really attached to us ever since that happened!

:D

Pita Day 2

I made Pita Bread the other night.   My next agenda is to figure out how to cut the opening in it without tearing the bread to peices................

Passion. Love

I'm baking bread.

I love baking bread.  Not from the betty crocker box, but starting with the flour.  I make it from scratch.  Nothing can replace the fine grainy feel between  my creases or the stickiness that plasters itself inside my fingers.   The warm wafts of rising yeast beneath my hands energizes my soul. The smell reminds of the one time that I had walked through a beer brewery.  The smell of fermented yeast lingered strongly in my nasal cavity. It's strength broke me.  I passed the walk without breath and was relieved when my lungs coughed up the last of the brewery. I didn't know that years later my kitchen would have the same smell.   It's not strong, not like the brewery smelled.  But it's definitely there; that splendid delicious smell. 

Mother made bread making sound long and tedious. Above all it was painful.   I believed her until a day of boredom met my own curiosity. It became just the opposite.  The mixing and kneading became signs of nurtured love. I watched with learned patience as cornflakes of dough molded together to form the perfect consistency. Gently and firmly my wrist would raise and fall as I pushed  the heel of my hand into the growing elasticity. It became pure splendidness as the stickiness fell away to smoothness. 

Dough is unlike play dough.   As a young girl play dough was the activity I only got to play outside of my home.  I could spend hours molding it's smoothness into little figurines and shapes of my imagination. I was careful. Any sudden jerk would tear the play dough pieces.   Dough wasn't like that. It was one mass, completely one, inside and out.  Dough is one like my husband and I are one and like the trinity is one.   I marvel at its material and think, "There is nothing else like this." The recipe called for ten minutes of kneading but I made it into fifteen minutes.   No matter.   Now we wait.   Half hour after half hour I take turns letting the bread rise and then knead then rise and knead. I've discovered this to be a delicate process.  There can not be too much of one step or else the bread won't bake right. 

I wonder if God had made us the same way.  Really, he makes us that way.   We are born, we grow, we learn, we grow and so on and so on.    The bread will be done in just a few minutes.  For us it takes a lifetime.  A lifetime?   Is a lifetime possibly enough?   Could we ever stop learning and growing?   I imagine that we never do.  I imagine that the process of discovering is an unending wonder for us.   Is it possible for our great creator to do the same?   He is the beginning of all things; does he wonder? I can't find answer to that question.  Maybe he finds it hard to wonder at things like stars and changing seasons, just because he orchestrates every movement.   Does he wonder at us;  The one being on earth that holds free will from day to day? I am blessed and pleased at the actions and thoughts of the people in my life.  Perhaps God is the same.   It's nice to think that we make him smile and even laugh. 

So it's been awhile and what has started out a way to begin my freelancing career has turned into a major flop.    It's funny how certain things just happen.   Like I just happen to get writer's block once I decide that I want to write for a living.  I write in my journal and that's about it.   Honestly, it's really easy to write in a journal that you know is for your eyes only.   But writing for an audience? What part of my life would someone want to know about or what part of my life would I feel comfortable sharing with the whole of God's earth.    

Yeah, that's not going very well. 

But drawing is. Can't say much for painting. I drew this great picture of a silhouette playing the upright bass.  I was proud of it, you could really feel the movement in the picture, it's great.    

I'm not writing and i'm not drawing much... my life consists mainly of preschool, and piano lessons.  I love to teach children, absolutely.  It's the best thing in the world. I've got a theory book to write for my students....it's so hard to write instructional books, especially on things that seem so obvious to the seasoned musician.   

Yesterday Chris and I went to Montgomery.  He's on his 2 wk vacation and that was our mini vacation.   It was so much fun, seriously, I don't remember the last time we had this much fun.   We didn't plan anything besides where we were going and how much to spend.   It was great.  We ice skated for the first time and I discovered that I have  muscles in my feet that really really ache!   We shopped in randomn funny stores and our favorites and we ate a cookie while watching the zambooni clean the ice!   The rest of the day was spent walking at east chase mall and exploring the local craft store. We watched a movie in the Rave ( Yes, Man--I wouldn't recommend it) and had dinner at a gas station.  All the while we freezed!   Both of us bought extra sweaters to keep us warm! It was so much fun!  

From now on, all vacation are to be planned as little as possible!!!