Sepia

This is my very favorite weather.

It is both hot and windy. As I sit here on my deck I close my eyes and let my other senses take over. The sun heats my skin like holding an open palm near a flame. If I turn my face I can see the bright sunlight, golden through my closed lids. The breeze is warm. It feels soft, gentle and somehow nostalgic. It doesn't bring a chill, like a spring breeze, but it keeps the heat of the sun from becoming overbearing.

The wind blows through a neighboring oak tree. The leaves swish and rustle and a nearby wind chime sings. The little waterfall in my backyard pond bubbles happily and a myriad of birds call to one another. In the distance there is the hum of a passing car and perhaps a distant lawn mower.

My metal deck chairs are warm (almost hot) to the touch and I smile thinking of the hours they've spent soaking up today's sunlight. How many days have these chairs sat frigid and wet under a moody gray sky?

I hear the train and a neighbor's voice. I think of my grandmother. When she was my age it was 1941 and I wonder if a hot, summer afternoon didn't feel the same then. Maybe the cars were fewer, and perhaps louder. And I'm quite sure she didn't have a string of electric lights, small, clear glass bulbs, strung around the railing of her deck. But the birds and the train... the heat of the sun and rush of the water... the wind chimes and the endless blue of the sky... were these not the same?? I smell warm wood and the sweet freshness of the river nearby. I bat away a pesky fly. Did she ever sit and close her eyes and drink it in? I hope she did.

Often when I imagine times gone by I picture the world in sepia tones. But as I sit here on my deck today, I realize that her world was as bright and colorful as mine, and to her nothing about life was old-fashioned. She couldn't see how the world was going to drastically change, just like I can't. I don't see these days, my life, as being the "olden days", or primitive in any way. But my grandchildren likely will. They will chuckle at my laptop and cell phone and marvel at my string of string of electric bulbs that surround my deck. My music will be played on the "oldies" station and the height of our technology will be like cassette tapes and rotary-dial phones.

So before I return to my kitchen... the dirty dishes, and Costco groceries that I've yet to put away. Before I retreat into the air-conditioned, plug my computer back in and set my iPod to my favorite playlist. Before I begin the tasks that I need to finish to prepare for my daughter's birthday party tomorrow... maybe I could just close my eyes one more time. Feel the warm summer wind, listen to the music of the birds and the waterfall, breathe deep the fragrance of today... MY today... and perhaps see my world, for a moment, in sepia tones.

Anniversary

Tomorrow I will have been married to my best friend for 16 years. Those words are so easy to write, but it's nearly impossible to grasp all the meaning that lies within them.

16 years. Nearly half my life. I got married when I was 20, barely more than a child. I had a 2 year old and a baby on the way. And this 21 year old BOY took my hand, and the hands of my children, and promised his life to us. His friends were partying or going to college, but this boy of mine went off to work. He managed to land an entry-level sales job (with NO prior experience and no college degree) and within four months he was the top sales guy! He learned to change diapers and he kept my car clean. He ate everything I tried to cook (LOTS of hamburger helper) and he never complained. He paid all the bills and drove a crappy car so that I could stay home with our kids. He watched me get chubby and frumpy and cranky, and yet he still came home every night after work. And 2 years after our wedding we had baby number 3.

It wasn't perfect. We lost the romance in the trenches of raising babies. He didn't know how to speak my "love language" and I felt lonely and neglected at times. I didn't see that each time he vacuumed my car or cleaned up the dishes he was saying "I love you".

We grew up together during those years. My "boy" became a man. He raised my son (who wasn't "his" by birth) as though he was, and then legally adopted him when he was 14. He sacrificed material things so that we could send our kids to private school. He read the bible and pursued God. He sought Truth with a passion and endeavored to become a man that honored God not just in word, but in deed. He stuck by me when things got rough and I nearly lost my way.

Sometimes this man of mine would get frustrated because the house was messy. Instead of picking up the children's books, he would kick them under the couch or the coffee table. (Out of sight, out of mind!) This drove me crazy!! But he always kept the yard nice. And when I went to a women's retreat one weekend he did 10 loads of laundry while I was gone!

He doesn't give me back rubs, or write me love letters, or surprise me with creative dates. But he KNOWS me and he loves me anyway. He works hard and has taken me on fabulous vacations. He ASKS me before he plans a night with "the guys". He leaves work early to make it to a football game, dance recital or a wrestling match so that our kids know they are valued and supported. He still never complains about my cooking! He encourages me to pursue my dreams. He his insanely generous with his money. And occasionally... he remembers to tell me that I'm the most beautiful girl at the party.

We don't always see eye to eye. These last few years of raising teenagers have been especially rough. We have yelled and screamed (ok... maybe I have yelled and screamed) and we both have spent a night or two on the couch. We have broken each other's hearts and said things that we've regretted. But he STILL comes home every night after work. He STILL keeps my yard nice and our bills paid. He STILL makes it to the sporting events and works hard at his job. And even during a season of trial and frustration, he indulged me and the kids with a trip to Mexico for a week so that we could "play" as a family.

He lets me crank my obnoxious music while I'm in the shower, and he knows when to pour me a glass of wine. He watches LOST and American Idol with me and even voted for HOURS with me so that David Cook would win Season 7!! He makes up silly nicknames for me and makes up ridiculous songs about every random thing. He sends me text messages that make me smile.

My husband is not a perfect man, but I know that he is perfect for me. His rough edges make me sharper and his strengths balance my weaknesses. I am proud to hold his hand or walk beside him in public, and I know that he is a man that my kids can look up to.

I hope and pray that I will have the privilege of growing old with this man. There are so many things that I still want to experience in this life, and I want it to be HIM that I experience them with! I know he will be a hilarious and crotchety and generous old man... and I know that he will still need me to be the yin to his yang.

Happy anniversary, Baby. You are still the sexy boy in my math class, the coolest Dad on the block, the man I respect, and my very best friend!! I love you.

Doubt, Fear and Garbanzo Bean Curry

I have a friend who is a great cook.

I recently spent a long weekend in Sunriver with 4 families and this friend, Steve, did all of the cooking the entire weekend! He used a blender to puree the sautéed vegetables to make a sauce for his Puerto Rican food. He wrapped asparagus spears in thin slices of salami (or some kind of round meat) before he drizzled them with something wonderful, sprinkled them with something delicious, and then roasted them until they were perfect... and this was just ONE side dish. At the same time he was pulsing chunks of bread in the blender to make fresh crumbs for the hamburger patties... which were also mixed with fresh garlic, spices, and eggs and then stuffed with Dubliner cheese!! And because we still, apparently, needed a salad... he cubed and toasted the french bread for fresh croutons and prepared a balsamic "reduction" for the dressing.

Needless to say... we ate like royalty all weekend. It was amazing! And I'm convinced that every "dish" I attempt to make from here on out will simply suck in comparison. Tragic, but true. (My culinary skills are limited to chili, spaghetti, pulled pork sandwiches made in the crockpot with bottled barbeque sauce, eggs, and a few soups.)

So, I saw Steve again this past weekend and asked his wife if he ever makes curry. Apparently yes, often, and very well. So I ask Steve if he will teach me to make a decent curry (I'm envisioning chunks of meat and vegetables, a sauce made from some yellow powder, and rice) and Steve says Yes... that's a great idea! "How bout we take a Curry class??" A class?? But I thought we were just going to hang out in Steve's kitchen... Doug and I, Steve and Heidi and a couple bottles of wine?? Sounds like "class" to me!

Then today I get this email... titled "Curry Class". And there's a link to a site called "In good taste" with a list of cooking classes held in either Lake Oswego or the Pearl District. Steve has found our Curry Class and sent me the menu... (it's $95 per person, by the way)...

Hands on Complex Curries Simplified
with Leena Ezekiel

The festive season has begun in India, starting with Durga Puja which is one of the most celebrated festivals in Bengal, Orissa and Assam.Leena will share her favorite festive dishes, going back to her childhood,while demystifying the complex cuisine of her homeland.

Lamb Rogan Josh
Cubes of lamb cooked in a rich and spicy tomato/yogurt sauce

Palak Paneer
Homemade cubes of paneer cheese in a spinach sauce

Sarso Bata
Fish steamed in a mustard curry sauce

Allo Matter
Curried potato and peas

Chana Masala
Garbanzo bean curry

Pooris
Deep fried Indian puffy breads

Basmati Rice with Whole Aromatic Spices

Ummmm... yeah. Can you possibly imagine how intimidating this is for me??? I mean, this food sounds AMAZING, but I've never even heard most of those words!! It's like a 9 year old Little League baseball player being invited to spend the day practicing with the Yankees! "Make sure you glove up Son, we're putting you at shortstop!" Holy cow!! Could my shortcomings BE more on display???

So... now I have a choice...

Do I bow out gracefully, claiming financial hardship? Or do I suck it up and realize that I've gotta start somewhere, and it just might be fun? And maybe I won't be the only insecure novice in the group? And maybe I'll gain just a tiny bit of confidence in the kitchen? And most likely I'll have a great evening doing something new and different with my husband and our friends??

You know... I continue to travel even though I hate to fly because I refuse to limit my life's experiences due to fear. Here is a new experience knocking at my door... What's the worst that can happen?? My puffy breads end up flat, my cubes of lamb taste like shoe leather. Maybe I spill wine or cut my finger. But maybe... just maybe... I conquer a small bit of my kitchen-phobia, make a great meal, and gain the courage to try it again! Or, heaven forbid, throw a fabulous Indian-inspired dinner party of my own someday!!

My life is ending and I don't know where to begin...

I've never done much of anything. I mean, I've stayed married for over 15 years and I've raised three children to adolescence, but I've never done much of anything just for ME. Or, rather, I've never pursued and accomplished anything just for me. I'm very good at things like "taking time for myself" or indulging in leisure activities, but that's not what I'm talking about here.

I'm talking about really DOING something, and doing it until it's done. Things like finishing school with a degree that I'm interested in or pursuing a career that takes me outside of my home. Now, I know that education and a career don't define a person or even give them any additional value of some kind, but they do represent success in the form of starting and finishing something. Risk taking. Trying, failing, dreaming, and trying again.

The things I've done in my life are very important things... but they are things that were thrust upon me. I have proven that I have the ability and fortitude to "rise to the challenge" when difficult circumstances land in my lap. This I know of myself. I won't give up or run away when the hammer drops or the battle rages long. What I don't know of myself is whether I can choose of my will to change my circumstances. Can I act, or will I simply fall back on the comfort of reacting?? I am awesome at reacting.

But there is a bend in the road up ahead, and I don't know what is around the corner. My children are growing up and will soon leave my house for lives and futures of their own. They will pursue dreams and I will be left at home. I am not sad at the thought of them leaving, for I know this is the natural progression of life and I am excited to see whom they will become. I encourage them to leave... to dream, to grow, to love, to try... No, I am not sad to be left. But I fear that my own ability to dream and to try was stunted along the way somehow. I believe that my children can do anything, be anything they want to be... but I'm afraid I've lost that same belief for myself.

What is a 36 year old woman to do... who has never finished college, or had a career, or even paid her own bills?? How does this woman even find a place to begin?? The world around me is moving so fast and there are so many others with such vast "experience" and important-sounding bullet points to paste onto their resumes. It is daunting and intimidating and then couple that with my natural tendency toward procrastination and what happens?? I end up closing the front door, pouring a cup of coffee and curling up on the couch with a book. My couch isn't threatening. My couch doesn't look better on paper than I do. My couch is warm and safe and easy and willing. I could spend the rest of my life on my couch. And that scares me to death!!

So what is the bigger fear... the fear of doing something, even if it's silly, wrong, or short-lived... or the fear of doing nothing?? And actually, now that I think about it... that is the wrong question to ask. Because I don't want to live my life based on fear of any kind! How bout this... what is the greater JOY?? Stepping out into the world to learn what I can and offer what I might? Or stay at home, enjoying my couch, my coffee and my books and relishing the triumphs of my children? Is it possible to celebrate their successes as I'm forging a few of my own??

No, I still don't know where to begin. I still don't know what I have to offer the world or even how to try. But maybe the first step starts on the couch... I'll sit down with my coffee and pick up a good book, an old favorite... "The Little Engine That Could". And I'll read the words of that sweet little engine, who was smaller than all the rest and facing a huge mountain... "I think I can..."

Failure??

I'm feeling like a blog-failure. I really want to blog. I read all these fabulous things that other people have written and I so want to join the club, be part of the in crowd. But I seriously think I have some sort of weird blogging disorder. A disease of sorts. I think it stems from the insecurity/fear/procrastination/laziness/perfectionist gene and then is magnified by the fact that I really don't understand the world of blogging. I don't really know what I'm doing or how it works and thus I feel like a poser. A Blog Impostor, if you will.

It's like there's this whole blog-savvy, techno-creative society out there that is whizzing by me at the speed of a cyber-second and I'm the only one who didn't receive the instruction manual. They are witty, intelligent, proactive, challenging and artistic... they post pictures and links and references... and I am here, wrestling with my thoughts, struggling with the format, agonizing over content... and thus I never begin. I'm failing before I even start. I'm insecure and intimidated and actually a little embarrassed over what I don't know about blogging. I want to be farther along, established, comfortable, confident... but I guess everyone had to start somewhere.

What if... I just write what's on my heart and mind. What if it doesn't have to be grammatically correct, or witty, or profound... What if I don't even let myself stop to think about it before I begin typing?? What if I just write.

Maybe no one but me will ever read it. Do I care?? Who am I really writing for anyway? But, honestly, I do think I have something to say. I have experiences and thoughts and insight that is worth something. I haven't done a lot in my life, but my particular journey has merit of its own. Even if it never reaches another persons eyes, or touches another heart... this is my life, and it's worth writing down.

My Blogging Debut...

Ready or not... here I come!!

This is it... my very FIRST blog.  Hands shaking, mind spinning, doubts and insecurities raging...

What if I do it wrong?  What if I can't get the template EXACTLY the way I want it??  What if I sound like an idiot?  What if no one ever reads it??

Why does this have to be so hard?  Why do I build something up so HUGE in my mind that it makes me want to quit before I even get started??  Man, I'm a head case!!  It's just a BLOG for heaven's sake!!  But apparently... not for me.  

It's a beginning.  

I've always said I'm a writer.  I like to write and I think I'm pretty good at it.  I've always told myself that "someday" I would write something meaningful.  But I never do it.  I never actually sit down and write. 

What if I really suck??  What if I start and then quit?  Maybe it's just easier to "think" about writing, and "believe" I'm a good writer, than to actually try and fail.  Man, that's pathetic!!

*Pull your head out Larson and get in the GAME!!  You only live once!!  When did you take the weenie door and become such a egocentric coward? Get a grip!!*

Ok, I'm back.  And apparently... I'm blogging.