Unconscious Mutterings #379

I say ... and you think ... ?

1. Creepy :: crawly, clingly, eek!
2. Links :: to be followed
3. Sane :: is overrated
4. Bun :: dairy free option please? 
5. Visual :: pleasure
6. Remote :: CONTROL
7. Freaking :: fates. 
8. Curly :: paths
9. Saga :: continues
10. Different :: ain't always easy... 

Wrote Me a Letter

I wrote Mitch a letter last night.  While I looked at this photograph. 

Christine immortalized this moment for me, adding my tattoo over his tumor site.
Oh so little did we know!
We were in the Black Hills, on our honeymoon. My short arms captured this much of my surprise kiss/picture.  We'd been married in Vegas 10-or-so days before, spent a week in LA with friends and then got a hotel room in every state (sans AZ) we crossed on the way home. This was a few-day layover, in the Heartland Paper Corporate condominium. It was off-season, so we had the place to ourselves ♥ Not much time for sightseeing ;) The carpet in the living room, however, was a lovely shade of 70s goldenrod, I do remember.  After this break, we moseyed into Sioux Falls in time to have a Labor Day weekend Reception at Stoner's Bar. Complete with another cake and a Keg :)
Life was Big and Forever seemed Infinite.  

Hell, I was honored he'd even noticed me, everything after that was some kind of crazy jackpot that kept paying out. I was the luckiest girl in the universe. He was the love of my life. And crazier? I was the love of his life. The mother to his children. An incredible way we had of honoring one another.

And still I get to honor him every single day, by parenting his son. By modeling the greatest gift of all, daily forgiveness.

Releasing my need for that fairytale life to have been permanent. And accepting the gifts of knowing that life, that love.
Releasing the need to see both of my children grown. And accepting all Gifts, in their impermanence.
Releasing attachment to anything that is not right here, right now. For nothing else truly exists.
Realizing this is all I need. All my needs are met.
And it's all I have. And it's all I need.
That I can count on.
Amen. 

Thanks Mitch, again, for the jackpot you continue to be in My Life.

Spring Sadness

Most days are a shiny blue egg, all round and perfect and full of hope and life. And some days, just for shits and giggle, it seems the gods drop your blessed egg, right onto the proverbial dandelion. (I just proverbialized said dandelion.)
I got nothing to bitch about. I'm a baking maniac with a son on vacation, making said mania guilt-free.
I got new connections on Facebook with more and more people I really miss having in my life; and those I don't even know I've missed from my life ;)
And. I miss my girl.  Her baby friend is on Facebook and she misses her friend. I miss their friendship.
Mostly and always though, I just miss my girl.
Hannah is my blue egg, her death is it's smashing to the grass... the destruction overwhelming, the purpose beyond the grasp of my present Self. Yet somewhere therein the whole cycle, lies a glimpse of beauty in that which I cannot understand.
I've got a letter to Mitch formulating in my head. I shall commit it to paper, then to Ren, to be documented and archived in her Letters to the Dead.  Maybe I'll make a practice of it. I'll work my way up to Hanners...

The Gipper says...

Mmmmm, that's some Good Medicine!

I salute the stoner's willingness to be taxed.

4/20 Be Safe. Be Happy. Eat and Sleep ♥

Where the winged ones come to die...

My back porch.  Today I witnessed the first bumblebee death of the season. Only the first, many more shall find their weakened way into the screened safety, to die. There are lots of flies, too, in various sizes, in various stages of death. They're not as much fun to photograph, nor are they as dedicated to my yard's beauty and bounty in the way the bees are. I whispered wishes for safe and happy travels through/toward whatever's next... I whisper to the flies, too ♥ 

Unconscious Mutterings #377

I say ... and you think ... ?

1. Drug :: Dragged?
2. Questions :: Answered
3. Active :: Energy
4. Facts :: Straight
5. Amount :: Enough
6. Supervise :: Anthropologist's observation
7. Ingredients :: Imperative 
8. Dentist :: Necessary, Expensive Evil
9. Meal :: Happy 
10. Packaging :: Should be ignored, the prize inside is what matters! 

Charlie wears Doug Patterson's Vans

I love LOST. I don't get it and I don't have to; I'm in love with it's unraveling-while-still-tangling mysteries. I do love stories that make my real life appear simple and uncomplicated in comparison. This one accomplishes that in ten-fold. Every episode. 

I've loved Charlie from the very first time we met on screen. Sure, at first it was the whole Dominic crush (we'd be cute together, you know). At some point though, Dominic disappeared and it was Charlie, charming me with his Charlie ways. 

Then Charlie left. Some use the *d* word in describing his absence, I prefer a simple left, as I knew he'd be back. And he is. ::::happy dance::::

There was a simple scene in Tuesday's episode, where I saw a blonde boy in checkered (lace-less) vans. Except I had this strange, real-life, LOST moment, where there wasn't an island nor a Charlie nor a Desmond, instead there was Axtell Park Junior High and Doug Patterson and Diana Lambert. Whoa. 

Those shoes! I know those shoes!

As if moving from a super cool beach town like Virginia Beach, VA to po-dunk landlocked Sioux Falls, Souf'akota wasn't gonna be a challenge in it's own right, to make such a monumental move wearing, well, frankly, weird-ass shoes, you're not asking for easy assimilation, nor shall you receive easy assimilation.  It's junior high in 1983, there's nothing easy; even with non-weird-ass shoes.  

The first whisper that first morning Did you see the new boy? Cute, but he's wearing some weird-ass shoes. That was the standard report from every single girl the entire day.  From the boys, I was able to discern his name was Doug, he lived at the T at the end of the street, he's from a beach and he's wearing some weird-ass shoes.  

Doug was eventually deemed cooler than his shoes were weird. Which is no easy feat in junior high. Being a surfer and brandishing Sex Wax stickers at the peak of hormonal freshness certainly helped his cause.  Being a cute and sweet and all-around-good guy, he easily swayed the rest of us.  

Wherever you are today, Mr. Patterson, know that I remember that first day. I know now the courage the second day required of you & I'm so glad you kept showing up. With your weird-ass shoes and all.  I hope your life is sweeter and far less complicated than Charlie's, though I hope even more you retain the bit of you who still hangs out in checkered (no laces!) vans and dreams of the waves... 

For the Little Me & My Little Friends

My very own Faerie House! ♥
With some space, some dirt, some seeds and a lot of gumption - viola!
Eventually, this ring will grow 7-10 foot sunflowers, with shorter sunflowers between,
with coneflowers and, of course,
morning glories, to tie it all together, beautifully.
We're hoping to do the pumpkins, squash, other veggie beds
in rays, emitting from this circle.
Perhaps a satellite map reader might someday

appreciate the view we're creating.
Wow! I sure do...

Our New Garden

While the amount of land continues to be a huge advantage to our home, the quality of said-land has been quite a detriment.  A very wet, very wet, no drainage, clay-like substance inhabits our planned garden space.  Very wet. Without drainage. Doesn't dry. Doesn't drain. That stuff up there? That's the magic-making dirt-to-be ♥ Manure, bark dust & something called "Clay Buster" was mixed up and delivered in a giant heap, right in the front yard.  Wheelbarrow by wheelbarrow, it'll be transported here (a view from the chicken coop doorway)

and poured onto rotting straw (which I hear farmers will bring to you for free just to get it off their land!) which used to be our 'round the bonfire seats (reuse & recycle!) And eventually, as things get planted in their due time, each spot of garden will look like this,

each filled with their own happy, happy, happy little plants like these

For the Love of Pastries & Maths

I successfully accomplished les croissant! Intimidating, indeed, yet incredibly satisfying and proud-making.

They are, quite possibly, the least expensive ingredient-containing delicacy with the most labor intensive creation process. Worth every single moment hour spent ♥  [The yeast dough started  at 4pm; 4 hour rest; rolling in of butter and laminating two batches (3 turns/1/2 hour rest between) took 3 hours; 5 hour rest (I napped); 1 hour roll out; 2 hour proof (which coulda/shoulda been 3); 24 minutes of edge-of-seat-waiting = We were chomping at 9 am the following day]

Quite definitely, this is the most sensual dough I've ever had the luxury to handle; it's like the silkiest, smoothest, most perfect baby skin-like texture in the universe. When you ask it, quite nicely of course, to perform magic, like becoming the perfect rectangle from which to make croissant, it purrs: Anything for you, and viola! I'm a pastry chef. A pastry chef who isn't intimidated by words like laminate and isosceles triangle.

Following my first major baking mathmatics success, I moved on to a very personal culinary challenge. A challenge that has haunted me for more than 2 years: Cutting brownies at Sunnyside Up.  Laugh, go ahead. Sure. I've been banned for financial reasons. This weekend, we ran out of both OMG Brownies  and authorized brownie cutters. So as not to deprive Corvallis of such deliciousness any longer, I did my brownie maths. Properly sized parchment, folded perfectly into 8x3 brownie dimensions (even factoring in the trimmed edges!) really, really, really helped me visualize what I was seeking to accomplish & worked as an amazing guide for cutting the lines.  

Today, in this 3rd year as a baker at Sunnyside Up, I cut and packaged an entire tray of OMG Brownies, with ZERO casualties ♥
Because once you can do les croissant, you can do anything!