Here’s my problem.

8 Jul
[well.  just one of the many.]
Not being employed often means I have a full day to complete stuff.  This stuff ranges from a quilting goal, to watering my mom’s flowers, to planning an ordination service, to needing to make a phone call, to needing to take a walk up and down the Aarback hill five times.  Most nights I go to bed with a list in my head of what I want to accomplish the next day.  But the problem is that I have the full day to do it.
I wake up.  I make myself wake up before 8. [I feel lazy if I sleep past that though I realize, for many of you, even 8 is late!]  I eat breakfast and often one of three things happens.  While I eat my cold oatmeal, I either turn on the television, jump on my macbook, or start in on the kindle.  [Hello, electronics.]  And then I get sucked in.  Today, it was the television and the movie Easy A.  We have these movie channels and they are the death of me.  First, The Proposal is on at least three times a day.  [I also already watched the last ten minutes of that movie today.] Yesterday, Lord of the Rings was on.  Sometimes Death at a Funeral.  I’ve seen these movies a million times, folks.  But it’s on tv and I get sucked in.  Easy A was a new one for me today but by the time the movie was over, it was 10:30 and I had nothing to show for my day so far.
But I have all day, right?  I still haven’t watered my mom’s flowers or done the dishes.  I have frozen cakes waiting to be rolled into balls that I haven’t touched.  I bought more gray fabric to complete quilt squares that is still uncut.   I need to call my aunt about ordination things and a birthday package to wrap.  I have all day.
Until suddenly, it reaches that point in the day where I think, “Sh*t!  I still have all this stuff to do still!”  I had all day but suddenly after pinning on pinterest, stalking on facebook, and watching How I Met Your Mother, my day is gone.  Gone.  I just reached that point. It’s almost noon and I have plans that take me away from the home at 3pm.  But instead of doing something productive about it, I’m blogging.  Eh.  I have a full day tomorrow to do stuff.  [And there is the problem.]
[Would you like to hear a second problem?  Pond swimming and weed pulling was great fun but it seems I’m now breaking out in itchy red bumps from the excursion.  And what’s that?  Oh, right.  They’re starting to blister.  Darn you, pond weeds!  *shake angry fist*]

twelve total reasons.

7 Jul
to begin, this is not a pity post.  at all.  just thoughts.  [are we clear?]
I’ve thought a lot about my single-ness since moving home.  I’ve watched The Proposal with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock about 86 times because it seems to play on the movie channels at all the right times, and I’ll admit, I get easily sucked into nearly any movie with Ryan Reynolds.  It probably does not help to watch a movie about marriage over and over. But also, my friends here are all attached – boyfriends, marriages, and babies.  They’re not apt to spontaneously invite me to do something, or apt to accept a spontaneous invitation from me.  They have other people intimately a part of their life; they live with other people.  I’m involved in three weddings for friends this summer/fall [plus one of a cousin].  I told one of those friends that she could have my “and guest” back and give it to someone else as she struggles to keep numbers down for the reception.  She told me, “It’s in September; you never know!”  Yes, it is a few months off but nope, pretty sure I won’t need that “and guest.”  [Though I also wouldn’t mind being proven wrong.]
Which leads me to my point – a college friend posted this article to facebook tonight – Single for Six Reasons.  The author of this article wrote it in response to another article under the same premise – Why You’re Not Married – which gives another six reasons why one might be single.
The six reasons why you’re not married in the original article [written by a television writer, mind you; these are her words, not mine] are as follows: you’re a b***h, you’re shallow, you’re a slut, you’re a liar, you’re selfish, and you’re not good enough.  Hmm.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I don’t agree.  To any of my single lady friends – these are most certainly not why you’re/we’re not in relationships.  Some credit to the humorist as she does continue to say that she certainly does not believe that last one, but rather, it’s ourselves who think we’re not good enough.  [Breaks my heart.  Thank goodness for Jesus in whose eyes we are always loved and enough.  If only we would think the same about ourselves and each other.]
The six reasons in rebuttal?  You’re patient, you’re confident, you’re successful, you’re beautiful, you won’t accept anything less than you deserve, and you know what you want.  I like these reasons better; these I would like to believe.
Truth be told, for the whole variety of single women out there, any and all of the twelve [plus some] might come into play – agree with them or not and whether I think they apply to my life or not.  But what I agree with most – and I think this comes out of both the original and the rebuttal – is how key it is to know oneself.  I’ll preach until the cows come home [unless they’re traveling from a very very far distance] that self-awareness and knowledge of self is important.  Super-duper important.  
So if I feel like I’m self-aware and know myself as an individual, does that mean I’ve earned my boyfriend card?  That’s okay.  Right now, I’ll play the I’m-okay-being-single card.  I can watch as much Friends as I want and quilt like an old lady with no other commitments.  [phew, right?]  [Though I will also confess in my boredom I have continued to research a trip to Quebec City.  I feel like it would be a great honeymoon destination … or maybe as a I-turned-30-and-find-myself kind of trip.  Time will tell.]  
I feel as if this was a bit of a pointless post.  I guess I wanted to share those articles, without completely letting go of my control or showing my complete and utter vulnerability.  Check?  Check.

Cakepop Crazies, part II

6 Jul

To see the first episode, click here.
To see where the Cooking Pastor all began, click here.

project pond scum.

5 Jul
the pond – with Aunt Peggy & Uncle Brian’s in the background
Growing up, my summers were spent at the pond.  You know – the pond.  The same pond in which my dad and his siblings grew up swimming.  The pond that sits on my neighbor’s property [that neighbor being  my aunt and uncle].  The pond that was probably a 12 minute walk through corn field paths, along the creek, and past the hornet’s nest from our farm.  Or a five minute tractor ride.  Maybe three in the bed of the truck.
The pond was where my brothers, cousins, and I lived in the summers.  My aunt works at the high school so she, like us, had her summers off and spent those days as lifeguard, swimming instructor, and freezie pop provider.  The place where we cooled off and cleaned up after a day in the tobacco fields, and the place where we made each other filthy with muck and pond scum fights.  The pond was one of my happiest places as a child.
It was where I learned to swim and tread water for hours.  My personal feat as a little girl was performing summersaults and handstands just off the pier.  [I believe it was thirteen summersaults in a row – and in one breath – that was my final and best record.]  It was where I learned to hold my own with four boys named Matt, Ben, Mike, and Kyle.  
It’s been years since I’ve been swimming in the pond.  Being away for summers and simply with the brothers and cousins growing in age, the pond isn’t our natural gathering place anymore.  In the years away, the pond has changed.  The middle pier/diving board is now gone, along with the pier on the western edge that no one used but for fishing.  The remaining pier is a bit saggy in places and the fish population has grown.  As have the weeds.
When we swam in the pond nearly every day for many summers in a row, the weeds were never much of a problem.  We would clear them out in the beginning of the summer and feel them no more for the rest of the season.  It’s likely been many years since the weeds were cleared from this swimming hole.  That, my friends, was the project for today.
Cousin Connor encouraged us to take back our swimming pond.  [I think he’s just as bored as I am since he returned from his two weeks in Kenya and as he waits to begin his first year of college in the fall.]  Emma and I responded with a strong, “Huzzah!” and the weeds had met their match.  It’s just not so much fun to swim out to the middle of the pond and have the seaweeds graze your body as you paddle past.  It can be a little disturbing, and maybe a little eerie.  The weeds had to go.

The ones closest to shore were raked.
The best method for weed removal?  Spaghetti-style.  As a fork winding spaghetti off a plate, so becomes your leg winding and pulling the weeds from the bottom of the pond.  Connor and I pulled all the weeds we could reach with our legs, twisting and twirling until the weeds came up on our foot.  We’d pull them off our feet and Emma would take the canoe paddle and bring them up to shore or onto the pier.  We had a system and it worked fairly well for us.  [Not so well for the weeds.]
Does this gross you out?  The weed-pulling spaghetti-style?  [I’m sure a few of you might just be grossed out at the thought of swimming in a pond.  You have my mom’s company.]  In a weed fight fought later in the afternoon, it was discovered that it certainly grosses my sister out.  She made gagging noises as Connor threw weeds on top of her head.  Sure, the weeds make you a little itchy, and pulling them from the bottom makes the water all sorts of murky and dirty.  Connor attempted to nail me with a paddle of weeds from the boat as I treaded water in the middle.  He missed, but I hit him square in the back upon retaliation.  Best line of the day?  As he jumped in the water to clean off and yelled, “I have weeds in my pants!”
A majority of our catch.
Connor and I with our spaghetti.

Lindsay + July = Completed Quilt

4 Jul
I will finish a quilt.  I will finish a quilt.  I will finish a quilt.

And these will be the fabrics in said quilt. [The chicken/rooster fabric is my favorite and how I figure the other fabrics mix in.]  The quilt has been a work in progress for the past month with 36 12×12 squares currently completed.  Now it’s to the nit-picky time-consuming cutting and assembling many pieces to make a single square.  It’s all backed by gray, my favorite color of late.  
I will finish a quilt.  I will finish a quilt.  I will finish a quilt.

latest pinterest favs.

4 Jul

I think I’m going to spray paint nearly everything in my new home.  Do we think folding chairs would chip easily?  Would a spray paint primer work best first?  [I think I’m going to learn so much about spray painting nearly everything in my new home.]  These colors actually match my plates and the bowls that I drool over and will eventually buy …

This just makes me smile.  Look at her cubby knees!

Source: etsy.com via Lindsay on Pinterest

Oh, C.S. Lewis …

Maybe this can be a project for the week.  I need some organization of my thread and bobbins.

happy fourth wkend!

2 Jul
[Have you seen the California tourism commercials about Prince William and Kate’s visit to the state?  Here’s my version for the three-day weekend.]

Three days to assemble my ordination announcements.

Three days to share patriotic cakepops.  [actually just at a cookout on the actual 4th.  how do we feel about the straws as sticks?  I think I might make that “my thing,” a way to distinguish my cakepops from the rest.  yes?]

Three days to help Lynn-baby put together her wedding invites.  [actually just this afternoon]

Three days to play with sparklers and watch fireworks.

Three days to eat grilled food and sit around campfires.

Three days to write some snail mail.  [two letters have already gone out this July!]

Three more days to just do a lot of what I already do – relax, sleep, and watch Friends.

an over-exaggerated story.

2 Jul
We all have things that we’re afraid of and things that we dread happening.  Tragedy strikes unexpectedly and bad things do happen to good people.  We don’t have answers why, but often only more questions.
I realized one of my greatest [over-exaggerated] fears yesterday.  There I was.  Sitting in the non-air conditioned lobby of a ten-minute oil change business, filled with the odor of oil and the slow hustle of the greasy employees.  Sprocket [my car.  full name: Sprocket Automatron.  thanks for that, Sara.] was overdue for an oil change so I finally set my mind to drive to Janesville and get it done.  [after coaxing myself that a. I really needed to drop off a fedex package too and b. I could then see what was on sale at Joann’s.]  
I pulled Sprocket in at the awkward hand directions of an employee and left her to his whim as I took a chair and turned on my kindle.  [Jane Austen kick continues.  Northanger Abbey is the current read.]  As I sat reading, an employee approached the woman next to me and began listing off all the things that are “wrong” with her vehicle, the urgency of the repairs, and costs involved.
My breath shortened.  I found myself unable to read anymore.  I likely stared awkwardly at the exchange between the woman and the technician.  The technician – oh the nerve – even brought with him the air filter from her car to show the dirt and grime that had built up.
I started to bite my fingernails, waiting for when it would be my turn to speak with the technician about the state of Sprocket.  When situations like that occur, it makes me feel a couple different ways.  First, I feel like I’m a poor car owner who doesn’t care properly for my Sprocket.  I want to care for Sprocket in the best ways I can and when someone tells me that things are wrong, I let Sprocket down.  I let myself down.  Second, I feel like the technician calling me out in front of all the other people in the waiting area is unnecessary.  They don’t need to know my car’s mechanical diagnosis.  I wish they would pull me aside.  Third, I don’t have a job.  I can’t pay for extensive work or improvements, and when they tell me that such things are needed, it hits me hard knowing that I can’t provide easily for my Sprocket.
One of my greatest [over-exaggerated] fears may have been realized yesterday but it did not become reality.  Sprocket got through the appointment and oil transfusion nicely.  I felt like a proud car owner when the technician told me that the car seems to be in great working order.  I drove home sitting a little higher [literally – I adjusted my seat] yesterday, knowing that all is well with Sprocket for the time being.

That’s a lot of sprinkles.

30 Jun
The price was right, the colors were unlike any I had seen in other stores, and knowing that I have cakepops by the hundreds to make in the next month, I figure they’ll get used.  These [and lunch with Lynn] totally made my day.  I’m excited to put them to work!

that kind of day.

30 Jun
It’s a I-miss-the-Cities-a-lot kind of sad day.
It’s a I’m-having-lunch-with-a-friend-in-Madison kind of happy day.
It’s a I’m-super-stoked-to-check-out-this-speciality-baking-shop-I-heard-about kind of excited day.  [Vanilla Bean // I’ll let you know how it is.  It opens at 9:30 and I’m currently two blocks away at a Starbucks.  I’ll wait a reasonable amount of time after they open; don’t want to seem too eager to explore their edible confetti and sanding sugars. *cough* crazy lady *cough*]
It’s a humidity-go-away kind of complaining day.  [aka a-big-hair kind of day.]
It’s a learn-to-protect-yourself kind of drill day.  [What if they come at you with a garden trowel?  Steal your socks?  Climb in your window?  What will you do?  Not all gnomes are as kind as Dawson gnomes.]
It’s a I-have-nothing-on-my-calendar-until-July-10th kind of whining day.  [which leads to a I’m-going-crazy kind of day]
It’s a I-really-really-really-miss-my-seminary-friends kind of sad day.
It’s a I’ll-think-about-getting-my-oil-changed-but-won’t-actually-do-it kind of procrastination day.
What kind of day are you having?
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