Book lovers rejoice. My copy of Seduced by Bacon has been recovered.
Guess where it was?
whoomp there it is
On the cookbook shelf in the kitchen. Who’d have thunk it? Mere weeks ago I feared it was a casualty of our move.
Found it by accident while looking for my smoothies recipe book—which incidentally is now missing. Happened upon Seduced by Bacon as I combed the cookbook spines.
Sometimes what we’re looking for is exactly where it’s supposed to be, maybe even right in front of us, whether we see it or not.
Gives me hope Cassatt will turn up, too. And I’m thinking of a new motto:
Leave no book behind.
Works for lost books at home and returns to the library. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the bacon that’s long overdue.
“I was ready to respond, but no one asked for help.
I was ready to be found, but no one was looking for me.
I said, ‘Here I am, here I am!’
to a nation that did not call on my name.” Isaiah 65:1 NLT
My dog Ella loves cat food. To her it’s a delicacy.
Gracie the princess cat
Ella went with us to Kansas City where we visited a friend who owns a cat named Gracie. Ella approached Gracie, tail a wagging. The feline was reserved.
As the humans visited, we lost track of our animal children. Then we heard it.
“Hiss! Spat! Smack!”
We turned to see the cat retract as the dog slid across the entryway floor. An investigation told the story.
Ella had sniffed out Gracie’s bowl of cat food and devoured every last morsel. She was still licking her muzzle to erase the evidence. But the cat knew the dog’s crime and was not pleased.
There’s something in cat food Ella finds irresistible.
The higher protein content? The smell of fish? The fact that it’s not for dogs?
She’s been known to raid litter boxes and ingest deposits left in our yard by cats traveling through, all for trace amounts of that something. We stop her the second we catch her in this undignified behavior. We scold her. But the temptation is too great.
She gets dog food. Good dog food. The expensive kind we have to buy from the veterinarian. She ignores it until she’s sure there will be no table scraps, no milk in the bottom of cereal bowls after breakfast, and no cat food.
Ella the baby dog
Gracie’s mom Janis thinks I need to get a cat. All true writers have a cat, she says. Low barrier to entry. I can do this one.
Besides, my son wants a Siamese cat named Bill or an orange tabby named Teddy. I could probably talk him into a gray named Louie. If only we could convince my husband, the cat magnet who insists he doesn’t like cats.
Ella votes with her eyebrows (terriers have eyebrows) and ears.
“Would you like a puppy?” No response.
“A bunny?” Slight ear prick.
“How about a cat?” Her eyebrows and ears stand at attention.
“Yes,” they say, “with cat food, please.”
Temptation comes from our own desires, which entice us and drag us away. James 1:14 NLT
That’s my take from 40 days of WordAds. I didn’t expect to make much, but $5.85?
Christmas 2013
I don’t even get paid until I reach $100. At this rate, I’ll see my first check in time for holiday shopping—Christmas 2013!
The ads were charming, but distracting. I couldn’t approve them in advance or negotiate fees, yet they commandeered some of the best space on my page.
As my friend Janice of A Colorful Adventure said about her experience with ads on her blog, “I wanted the prime real estate for myself!”
Me too, Janice. So I’m ending my WordAds Beta.
The quest for ways to generate income doing what I like to do continues. I have a few ideas up my sleeve. Or maybe a more traditional approach is in order.
You never know until you try.
I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27:13-14 NIV
I cried in church and at the hotel. I cried for the people we visited and the people we missed seeing this trip. I teared up at Ladue Nails, the zoo, and the Galleria.
When I lived in St. Louis, I couldn’t wait to leave. Whistle me Dixie and send me packing to North Carolina where I was raised. Where life is normal.
Now that I live in Wichita, I’m still homesick for The South. But I also long for the Lou, where life is normal.
“I’m homesick,” I said to my husband. “But I’m not sure for what!”
“You’re homesick for everything and everyone we’ve known,” he said.
Well, that about covers it.
Sometimes I think my husband could be happy living in a van down by the river. Or on a farm. Or in a city. Or a small town. Or just about anywhere else you can imagine. His parents gave him luggage for graduation if that tells you anything.
But I pine for a sense of place. I feel a need to belong somewhere.
my kind of town, Chicago is
I’ve belonged several somewheres on our tour de relocation, and now I miss them all. Even Chicago looks inviting.
If there ever comes a time when we leave Wichita to go home, where will that be exactly? Will I miss Kansas then the way I miss my former homes today?
Transference is a psychoanalytic concept meaning the inappropriate redirection of feelings from one relationship to another. Sigmund Freud came up with it, so take it with a grain of salt.
Those struck by locational transference struggle through life in a never-ending episode of homesickness. Missing, missing, always missing. A framework of loss their only constant.
Reframing is another therapy concept. It dares to find a different way to look at things.
Maybe the never-ending episode is really a pursuit of Home. The people and the familiar. The smells and seasons. The moments of contentment, love, and belonging taken for granted. The state of normal once found in a place and time.
We forge new relationships as life moves along—we have to. But this lingering homesickness accompanies us. It reminds us to embrace contentment where we find it because things may change tomorrow. It drives us on to recapture a place we left behind a long time ago. A place called Home.
They saw it way off in the distance, waved their greeting, and accepted the fact that they were transients in this world. People who live this way make it plain that they are looking for their true home. If they were homesick for the old country, they could have gone back any time they wanted. But they were after a far better country than that… from Hebrews 11:13-16 The Message
In case you’re wondering, I’m still here. Our summer schedule has thrown my time into a tizzy.
Fear not. New material is in the pipeline. Working on a few humdingers.
While you wait, would you be so kind as to likeeveryday epistle on Facebook if you haven’t already? Go over to the right sidebar and click the like button.
You might also subscribe so you don’t miss a thing. You’ll find the email and RSS feed buttons to the right as well.
Apologies to those readers who expect more regularity in posts. Hope you’ll extend a measure of summertime grace to me. As Ferris Bueller said in one of the finest movies ever made, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
He also said, “You realize if we played by the rules right now we’d be in gym?”
Seriously, who makes the rules in blogging anyway?
Stop. Look around. Skip gym, unless that’s your thing. And stay tuned for the summer series of everyday epistle posts coming soon to a blog near you.
You don’t know the first thing about tomorrow. You’re nothing but a wisp of fog, catching a brief bit of sun before disappearing. James 4:14 The Message
This is not a political blog. If you want to know how to vote, there are plenty of other websites that will be more than happy to tell you.
red state vote 2012
Am I thrilled with either of the presidential candidates? Not really. Does that change my responsibility? Not really.
The larger question is, am I an American citizen who cares about my country? The answer is yes and the mission is clear: VOTE.
As ugly as campaigns get, the vote is sacred. Your ballot is secret, between you and God.
You could go from here to November without revealing your opinion about the issues or publicly throwing your support behind a candidate. Or you could shout your convictions from the rooftops. Doesn’t matter. When you cast your ballot on November 6, 2012, your vote will speak as loudly as Bill Maher’s, Rush Limbaugh’s, Rachel Maddow’s, or Ann Coulter’s.
blue state vote 2012
To me, that’s something to be excited about.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, use these months before election day to prepare. Get registered. Get informed. Get ready.
With courage for the process and respect for the privilege—without getting wrapped up in the histrionics—prayerfully, politely, powerfully, prepare to VOTE.
Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give account. Hebrews 4:13 NIV
I can’t choose just one favorite Schoolhouse Rock song, but Shot Heard ‘Round the World comes close. “The continental rabble took the day!”
Please feel free to use the VOTE 2012 images from this post in your social media.
What does voting mean to you? Are you excited about it? Why or why not? If you are raising children, how will you talk with them about the election and voting?
Also began testing advertising. Seeing as I’ve yet to make a penny, this test may end sooner rather than later.
Whisper was the most-read post between our centennial and bicentennial +3. It catapulted to the top where it’s third behind I Like My Bike and Milk Wars.
I’m still learning and having fun. Expect I’ll keep writing, testing, and making course corrections. Knowledge acquired from the ground up sticks with me. Feels like I know it by heart.
Hmm. That sounds an awful lot like praise for the process from an impatient, results-oriented, change-it-yesterday kind of girl.
Like I said, I continue to learn. Thank God, don’t we all?
Cry out for insight,
and ask for understanding.
Search for them as you would for silver;
seek them like hidden treasures.
Then you will understand what it means to fear the Lord,
and you will gain knowledge of God.
For the Lord grants wisdom!
From His mouth come knowledge and understanding. Proverbs 2:3-6 NLT
Live and Learn by Clint Black, a gentleman of country music.
Desiree, a salesperson at my go-to store, once said of the J Crew design team, “They don’t disappoint.”
Ella dress in porcelain paisley, jcrew.com
She’s spot-on. I mean, look at this dress.
Yes, I borrowed the photo from the J Crew site without asking permission. It’s fair use since I’m commenting on it. But please, Jenna Lyons, charge me with piracy.
Throw me in J Crew jail where I’ll be forced to wear navy blue and white reverse sailor stripes and work in exotic locales like Tanzania, Bali, and New Zealand.
Sentence me to a lifetime of schoolboy blazers, cotton capris with a hint of stretch, and vintage V-neck tees in Byzantine blue, heather graphite, and the perfect shade of bright plum circa spring 2010.
Now about this dress named Ella. Exquisite. Prettiest thing I’ve seen since last month’s J Crew catalog. Oozes summertime when the living is easy.
If you read this blog, you know my dog’s name is Ella. Perhaps Jenna Lyons has been reading this blog, too, and she’s been inspired.
“See that little dog Ella?” I can hear her telling the crew at the Crew. “Who owns a creature of such intelligence, taste, and style? Feel the epistle. Inhabit the epistle. Express the epistle!”
Ella dog in wheaten fur
Voilà. Out comes the Ella dress in porcelain paisley. Named after my dog. And a steal at only… $298?!
Why do you do this to me, Jenna?
How could you design a dress for me at the end of the traditional spring-summer shopping season when my clothing budget is as dry as the sun-scorched earth of Al Gore’s inconvenient truth?
How could you introduce it in May—the month of Mother’s Day gifts, graduations, and summer camp deposits? How could you name it after my dog then price it oh so high above me?
This is one reason J Crew is successful. Besides quality, design, color, and hipness factor, J Crew appeals to those of us in the masses as attainable and out of reach at the same time.
That, and they steal writers’ dogs’ names for their dresses.
It’s time again for another blog-cation. Today we go to the headquarters of Vyzion Entertainment where I’m posting as a guest writer.
Vyzion is a gutsy start-up that aims to bust open the marketplace of ideas for entertainment and talent.
Stephanie and Greg Bailey founded Vyzion Entertainment in 2009 as an independent record label. In 2011, the Baileys joined forces with my friend Eric Bostic and his wife Tomeka. They expanded the company by adding Vyzion Radio as a platform for independent artists and an affordable advertising venue for small businesses.
Greg describes Vyzion Radio as “international, free, public radio.”
Greg Bailey
The company is on-air 24/7 with listeners in more than 200 countries and 2,200 cities from India to Los Angeles to Detroit to their home base in North Carolina.
Vyzion DJs are not limited to a single genre like traditional radio. They are free to play the music the listeners want to hear including independent artists and DJ mixes. Bailey foresees Vyzion as a channel to introduce new music to the world.
“I want the station to be for everybody,” said Bailey.
Eric Bostic
He and Eric served in the U.S. military and strongly believe in freedom of the press, unhindered by corporate or government influence. They work to keep Vyzion self-sustaining and independent as the company grows.
Vyzion recently began to offer “exposure without exploitation” to modeling talent like Zewdi Reda Miss Ethiopia and to writers.
Guess which category I’m in.
Supermodels, you’re safe for now. I’m posting as the blogger with a topic most wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole: Truth, Grace, and NC Amendment One.
catch the Vyzion
We can try to ignore the elephant in the room or we can listen, discuss, and figure out what to do. Same way we can continue to be spoon-fed what traditional media wants to give us or we can bust open the marketplace with new ideas.
Catch the Vyzion, click over, scroll down to read my post, and let the music play.
Grace and Truth came through Jesus Christ. John 1:17 NIV
Let the Music Play by Shannon because here we play what the people want, too.
Oh, sure, there’s the good stuff. Long, sunny days. Outdoor swimming pools. Vacation plans. Quality time with the kiddo. But if I learned anything in all my years of schooling, it’s that summer is synonymous with the loss of routine.
I was one of those strange children who didn’t like weekends. More at home with the rhythm and clear expectations of the classroom, I skidded toward summer break on a downward spiral. And I know I’m not alone.
We Type As like our routines. Changes in THE PLAN are exciting, but they can be frightening at the same time.
Maybe you’re not Type A. But maybe you’re a parent. Maybe—I’m guessing here, you and your children thrive on some semblance of structure.
Come on, moms and dads. Back me up on this. Doesn’t the thought of filling all those unstructured hours of your child’s summer vacation strike a wee bit o’ fear in even the bravest of super parent hearts?
Ridiculous, I know. Yet the fear of summer lingers. It nabbed me yesterday morning in yoga class. I like my yoga instructors Grace and Boomer. I’m comfortable in this routine, this respite from the stress of relocation, motherhood, and what to cook for dinner. I don’t want to give it up.
But how will I continue to do yoga when my son’s out of school for the summer? What will I do with him during class? Turn him loose to run wild through the YMCA? Sit him in front of the Wii for an hour? What if he wanders out to the pool alone? What if (insert catastrophe)?
runs with shovel
And how will I blog this summer? When will there be time? Who will read it? What about the other projects I want to pursue? What if I miss all the opportunities? What if I wake up in September and they’re ALL GONE? What if the world ends tomorrow? What if (insert catastrophe)?
The only way to roll with the changes is one step at a time. One season at a time. That’s why they usually don’t happen all at once. Thank You, Lord.
I’ll take a cue from yoga. Follow my breath. Put my shoulders back and down. Let myself feel grounded. Take a moment to be thankful for another day.
Then I’ll put on my sunscreen and forward march into summer.
The day is Yours, and Yours also the night;
You established the sun and moon.
It was You who set all the boundaries of the earth;
You made both summer and winter. Psalm 74:16-17 NIV
Dear Routine, Though we’ve got to say good-bye for the summer, darling, I promise you this: I’ll send you all my love every day in a letter Sealed with a Kiss.
“We Italians have a saying,” said my cousin last month at Aunt Leah’s funeral. “An Italian mother is una benedizione.”
mother’s day may 13
Una benedizione. A blessing. A benediction.
What does that mean? The dictionary gives me several ideas.
A benediction is an utterance of good wishes.
Her words, her wishes for her children, are good. Even those awash in worry or irritation, even those carry compassion. She means well.
“Have a good day at school.”
“You can do it.”
“Get down from there!”
“Wear your coat to stay warm.”
“Wear your sunscreen so you don’t burn.”
“Wear your seatbelt in case there’s an accident.”
“Mamma loves you. Always.”
A benediction is an invocation of divine blessing.
Silent prayers house the longings of her heart. They stretch over her child as he sleeps. They strain upward and plead with God.
“Lord, bless this child.”
“Lord, save this child.”
“Lord, protect him.”
“Lord, use his abilities as You see fit. As You made him.”
“Lord, help me be a good mom to him.”
A benediction is a service to bless the congregation; a ceremony to set things aside for sacred use, as a church, vestments, or bells.
She prepares imperfect sanctuaries for a noisy congregation and presides over a ceremony of the unseen. The sacred service of things taken for granted.
clematis
She wraps children in blankets, birthday presents in paper, boo-boos in bandaids. She feathers the nest with goodnight kisses and turns the pages of bedtime stories. She walks the night feeding a baby, comforting a sick child, or waiting for a teenager to make curfew.
She washes and folds mounds of laundry and lays out vestments for her charges. She cleans up rooms, dishes, and misunderstandings. She completes a task only to see five more erupt into chaos.
She answers endless questions. She faces the fire of a two-year-old and the swagger of a sixteen-year-old. She weeps with those shunned, disappointed, and bereft.
Her orchestra is populated by pots and pans. She directs the sweet, ringing bells of small feet and voices. She conducts personalities like instruments du jour: recorders, pianos, saxophones, violins, trumpets, booming drums. She oversees a heady score—the allegro and adagio of raising another human being.
A benediction is the state of being blessed. A mercy or benefit.
She bestows a state of blessing on her children that remains after she is gone. Though the official benediction may come at the end, it’s been conferred throughout the service.
Mi manchi, Mamma. Sie stata una benedizione per me.
I miss you, Mom. You were a blessing to me.
The Aaronic Benediction
The Lord bless you
and keep you;
the Lord make His face shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn His face toward you
and give you peace. Numbers 6:24-26 NIV
Year of the Tiger loved Year of the Dog the first time he saw her.
lanterns
He pursued her until she loved him back. They were inseparable. They married and ran away from home.
Time passed slowly. Finally they were blessed with one child, Year of the Monkey, a Solitaire.
Monkey made the days and nights seem longer, while the months escaped into years.
Tiger and Dog ran away from home again, this time taking Monkey with them.
They are best, these three, when they pull together. Best when inseparable.
The work of living takes Tiger far away sometimes. It cannot be avoided.
Year of the Dog and Year of the Monkey become a pair. They eat Chinese food or pizza and wait for Year of the Tiger to fly back to them.
Today there will be no waiting. Today they are home, all three. Together they will eat cake. They will feast on the decades and dream of the future.
Happy Birthday, Year of the Tiger. The Lord has been good to us.
Satisfy us in the morning with Your unfailing love,
that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.
Make us glad for as many days as You have afflicted us,
for as many years as we have seen trouble.
May your deeds be shown to Your servants,
your splendor to their children.
May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us;
establish the work of our hands for us—
yes, establish the work of our hands. Psalm 90:14-17 NIV
A gift: Perfect Moment by Darden Smith. Love don’t travel in straight lines.
Birthdays are a natural time to take stock of our lives. What’s the state of things in your world today? What or who can you celebrate?
