Here It Comes: 2014

Christmas Day ~ Sauce for Sweet and Sour Pork

New Year's Eve Music ~ Enjoy!

Five Crowns

Pot Stickers

 http://www.food.com/recipe/chinese-pot-stickers-13320?oc=linkback%3C/a

Christmas Past - A Memory



  Aunt Lois's Steamed Cranberry Pudding

 2 C. Cranberries, fresh or frozen
1 1/2 C. Sifted All Purpose Flour
1/3 C. Boiling Water
1/2 t. Salt
2 t. Soda
1/2 C. Molasses
Wash and drain berries.  Sift flour, salt and soda into bowl.  Add berries and dredge with flour mixture.  Mix with remaining ingredients and mix well.  Pour into a buttered double boiler and steam with cover on tightly for 1 1/2 hours.  Serve warm with the following sauce.

Vanilla Sauce:
1 C sugar
1/2 C light cream
1 C butter
1 t. vanilla
Cook sugar, butter and cream in double boiler for about 30 minutes; stir occassionally.  Just before serving, add vanilla.

Snack Tray Gift 

Ho-hum.  Just another Wyoming Sunset

 "We Had Seasons In The Sun."

And so another year ends, old and decrepit if we visualize the elderly gentleman with the overgrown white beard and sickle in hand. Three hundred sixty five days used up,  miserable, and on the verge of death by inevitability: the March of Time.  Twenty-thirteen, you were a learning experience in many ways, and for that we thank you. 

My holiday card included a one paragraph reference to the death of a young friend of our son.  In so many ways it deserved much more than that.  One event defined our year.  While not the conscious reality of every moment, one event more than any other pervasively and persistently shadows us.

One Saturday morning in September the sun rose as usual.  While most of us snuggled in for a few more hours of sleep,  two friends stood together quietly chatting and watched the day dawn.  It wasn't the first crisp and cool Arizona morning they had enjoyed together, but it was the last.  We were changed more than we can grasp over the course of that day, overwhelmed as we were.  One event, the unexpected death of a young man, a friend, a child, a brother, cousin and nephew is the wrapping on the package of our year.  It is not everything about our year but it does perfectly encase and represent  practically everything about it. 

It defines not only our year but also our future.  It shook our foundations.  We view and judge the importance of everything else past and present from a new perspective.   The hold we have on life seems more than a little tenuous.  Utterly conscious of a new level of reality, at unexpected moments we have grappled and gasped with the pain of loss, remembering.  And then, like the sun rises, we are left pondering again how very precious life is.  That knowledge makes all moments more poignant.

We grieve with our son.  We don’t push ourselves or him to get over it, but to get through.  We are aware that sorrow's work takes time.  We feel bereft but press on as usual, filling in the gaps.  We have grown up.   We feel responsible.  We live more consciously and hopefully less selfishly.  Moments pass heavily by virtue of something difficult to define.  

We carry a sense of responsibility.  Life, days, surviving - matters.  We carry the burden of reality, too.  The place they should be, now empty. We carry the burden of our grief and our friend's family's loss - if somehow our appreciation and respect for their beloved will help, perhaps miserable comfort.  We share the moments with them when we are beyond words - alive and lost.  Through that understanding we are sustained.

And that, my friends, is not a bad way to face a new year.  Sober and sensible.   Life marches up to greet us.  For better or worse we have awoken each morning to the light of another day. How precious, if painful, life is.  Each moment, really, has value and each day is a gift.  Even though we have spent so many moments mindlessly tending to our own desires, we know better.   We know that Twenty-Fourteen, while filled today with possibility and wishes for happiness, may hold sorrow for some.  We know because it happened to us.

Life then is a mixture of sorrow, hope, friendship, love, work and play.  Life is decorated by being kind and tender, by laughing and understanding, sharing and teaching – the moments we reached out, listened, helped, watched and felt.  Those moments of shared humanity and connection will be the moments that will have the greatest value a year from now. 

If granted life for another year of days by virtue of Celestial Decree, I want to fill them with friendship, gentleness, understanding, patience and strength - to have moments less defined by what I want, even with what I think I need – and more with sharing things like sunrises.

Silent Night

Thursday's Child

Mother Earth

Chocolate Caramel Sea Salt Tart

Zero.  Feels like - 19.   My niece walks to school.  She's a trooper.  I'm seriously impressed.
Thank goodness it is only a few blocks away, though.

Fully Present 

    Reporting from Cody at 48 degrees. Fargo is just a very pleasant memory.  The weather was less than inviting, but that turned out to be a non-issue of sorts.  Three stunningly assembled Christmas concerts under our belts, three sold out concert halls filled with hardy North Dakotans defied the importance of weather.  We returned well-rested, well-loved, wowed.  The words to describe our weekend are a generic bunch. Wonderful.  Amazing.  Beautiful. Impressive. Cold. Valued. The same words will describe a thousand Christmas events this season.  Bear with me while I try to find a way to say something that appropriately expresses awesomeness.

My grown up sister, her growing up daughter in close proximity; a rare vantage point for someone inclined to observation.  Challenges are being tackled front and center with occasional support and more than usual self confidence. She's her father's daughter, so she deals decisively with problems.  Understanding and moral support is not considered unessential, however. Impressive was being on the receiving end when spot-on words of council were delivered in a heart-to heart chat with my sister.  Who doesn't get stuck from time to time?

Cozily ensconced in an afghan, the three of us watched a contraband replay of the solo performance while waiting for our order of takeout Papa John's pizza and tried to make friends with a playful kitten.  The rental car (from downtown, not the airport - way to save money!), was parked in the driveway for the evening, on hand to save us from freezing our buns off during the squeaky cold, snowy trips to the concert hall, shopping, Sunday fellowship and errands.  

After shedding our layers in favor of indoor warmth, we had decided to stay for lunch.  Compliments to the chef for her tasty Thai creation.  As I stepped through the door, I noticed how little separated me from extreme elements in my temporarily homeless state. Thin walls, an adequate door, plastic sealed windows, heat someone else was providing, and my sister's child were the only things separating me from a quick, certain death on the North Dakota plains.  It was humbling and awesome to be inside that circle.

Secret Santa excursions for searching out exactly the right gift in a rather limited time slot, errands in freeze-everything, don't-be-silly weather, and especially fridgid concert nights were taken in stride until we saw a man begging.  I certainly don't know if he could have found a colder place to stand. I wanted to roll down the window, tell him to go inside and wondered.  Was there an inside to be had?  The trek from parking lot to car was a matter of a few dozen steps. Long enough to make you wish for another layer of everything.  It was all about soldiering on despite the temperature, attending to the task at hand, being fully supported, and not just on icy parking lots in dress heels when I should have worn boots.  The days are getting shorter, the weather outside may be frightful, but my thankfulness for my little circle of caring people is greater - partially due to one frozen beggar standing in the middle of the street in Moorhead, Minnesota.

     We were three parts of a whole; a goal-oriented team sharing each win.  Most of the win was witnessing a touching, reverent, nonsecular performance planned to the finest details while embracing the talents of hundreds - soaring voices, quick fingers, responding instruments.    The wonder of it all was accompanied by the certainty that these adults and young adults each had expended countless hours perfecting their presentation.   The program was seamless from narrator to conductor while orchestra and harmony showcased the soloists with the assistance of an amazing lighting crew.  Part of the win was to find the common thread throughout the weekend: capable baby of the family thriving on her own, leading the way, and not just as the talented soloist in the concert hall.  

  Part of the win was setting aside the cell phone and returning to it reluctantly. I appreciated moments of clarity, as well.  Certain things caught my eye so I took cell phone pictures and sent them - specifically making a connection with a certain person in mind.  In those moments, I realized I want to do more connecting.  Cell phones make it easy enough to share moments of wonder, humor, and humanity.    

     We insisted on seats next to each other on our flights to and from Denver.  Yes, that was planned, requested and purposely re-arranged after being disarranged.  We had a slumber party for three.  We celebrated concert night.  We celebrated the soft ambiance of a sweet little house of indeterminate age and sometimes chilly spaces; we celebrated roommates, a tiny Christmas tree and that skittish kitten.  We celebrated saving the day by finding exactly the gift we had been looking for after all and using every moment of time well, with one eye on the clock.  Moments.  All important in different ways, and I was present for them.  That was amazing.

   TJ Maxx never fails to deliver me into temptation, and Subway helped me back out of it. Nichole's Fine Pastry had prepared delicious post-concert tea and treats even on a deadly cold North Dakota night. All in all, we left Fargo with full hearts, not to mention sugar overload; and for me, two more pairs of shoes to fit in my luggage.  We survived the realization that de-icing hadn't happened soon enough to connect us with our flights and ignored the turbulent winds of the unfriendly winter skies.  I don't know what I thought that guy next to me was going to do to save me when I grabbed his knee, but that was quite a bump - reflex action and a bit embarrassing. Long delays changed flight times but United had it covered with text messages about alternate plans.  Impressive.  Ready or not, we made it home safe and sound, poised to tackle the next holiday chapter, fully present, flavor-filled and probably not sugar free.

Super Multi-tasker

Manda Panda in the Pastry Shop

Mom was right - we would come to like each other one day - even Janis and I who seemed to have a particular gift for discord back in the day.

The house was filled with the sound of music.

Tolerable.  Then the sun goes down.

Mama-Mia

Sun Up

She shall have music wherever she goes.

                 

Lessons Learned in Solitude

Ice Krispies for Breakfast
 It was going to be all about nature this week - but something came up~Thanksgiving!

Not feeling so good.

~Après-ski

The usual Thanksgiving dinner: vegetables, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey,
opps, Grandma got distracted and forgot to make the rolls.  There were olives, pickles and apple pie.   I don't think anyone missed the rolls.  

Pride is for thugs and felons.  Look at that.

So much can be accomplished when it doesn't matter who gets the credit.

Irene Bement

I suppose everyone expects me to have more great wisdom this week since last week blew you away, right?  Well, maybe one or two wouldn't mind seeing me take a good trouncing - or would be happy to help to give me one.  Story of my life, but my critics are in for a treat, (hey, I know you are out there) because it just so happens that I don't have more wisdom.  I have less.  I think it's supposed to work like that, though, so it's okay.  That means a good trouncing is out of the question, I hope.

This is the message: the more you learn the more you understand that you don't know.  Oh, you don't think that is a brilliant, life altering revelation?  I know, we've all heard it before.   I have got news for you.   I would suggest that familiarity does not make it less valuable.   I just got another look at it, saw things I should have seen it before but hadn't really embraced the lesson.  It seems clear as the mountain-tops, blue as the sky above.  Revelation can have the effect of literally silencing a person.  Has that ever happened to you?

It is a helpless feeling when you think, like I do today, that I am supposed to say something and you become aware that you know less than you did last week.   Pretty sure this blog post will be short. I just want very much to be silent.  Despite the feeling of not knowing what to say, of wanting very much to say nothing, I actually like being in this place.  It's liberating.  

With epiphany came understanding: the best thing for me to do is to quietly wait.  Feeling more than a little helpless makes me listen - and somehow conversely, I may be smarter than I used to be.  Sorrier, too, for all the times I ran into this great wall and thought I could vault over problems both minor and earth-shaking by sheer force of will despite every previous indication that my magnetic personality wasn't the answer to life and everything in the universe.  

I like how it makes me feel: humbled, of course, curiously free.  It helps me understand that I have said far too much already, and the best thing to do is say nothing; to wait.  Which I hate.  Please don't make me wait too long!  But then, it's not about me - not really.  It's about you.  A calm you; because that is an influence I am not yet ready to surrender.  

I like knowing that the best thing I can do, after my notorious calming influence, is get out of people's way.  I hope you aren't laughing.  Just ask my kids how calm I can be.  No, never mind.  Don't ask them. I have very passionate opinions about humans or snakes, but I'm eerily calm about dogs, cats, and ummm. Ants.   Anyway, what I learned in solitude is that the answer people are looking for is within their own heart.  Comparison to someone else doesn't cut the mustard, so although it's easy to say so-and-so can do this or that, just don't.  I know you will, but it's  pointless.  We're all human; flesh and blood, but we aren't all the same inside our heads or hearts.  

Hearing from me what you should do is the worst way, the most inaccurate way and the least appealing way to get the news.  I'm not your doctor.  We can't just hand out general information to our friends and they probably weren't aware we're a walking set of encyclopedias so they haven't asked, but we always have to get the basics out of the way: Did you try...etc.  

Everyone has tried the easy stuff already, trust me, they have.   Your friends aren't stupid.  At least not that stupid.  They are just waiting for the moment when it is safe to identify the real answer; the moment when it is safe to share the real answer, the hard answer, when they won't be mis-judged for their action.  You know the one I mean: the Answer that makes you dig down deep for the courage or the integrity you need - that comes when really you don't have any other option.  

This does not apply to your doctor.  Please listen to your doctor.  A second opinion (or several) is great.  Ah, come on.  Do your own research.  Everyone should have the basic care and keeping of the human body down pat, by now.  If not, get started.  ASAP.

After this insight, (thank you Solitude, Utah for being there for me) I feel like I have a better grasp on the concept that maybe someone has just been waiting for me to just get out of their way for a very long time.  They may need to feel very safe before they are ready to take the next step.  If there is anything I would like to give, it is this:  that my close friends, my family would feel safe; courage to fight the good fight, confident of my belief in their value, certain of my acceptance and understanding.  Confident and unconcerned about being questioned for their motives, character, or vision even if it isn't the way I would do it.  If I can't give good support I need to remove myself from the vicinity, because I've totally screwed up before.

Aside from that one time, even those people who do not believe in my extraordinarily brilliance, who possibly aren't hanging on my every word for any good reason (all the wonderful, brilliant, slightly or very distant people in my life who have their own bubbling or turbid well of wisdom or shame) can find their Answer, too.  A loving, silent assist; I really hope I have learned the lesson.

For having no intention of posting one thousand words, like an over-achieving cement mixer more content tumbled out than intended.  To choose timing over slicing content means it is publishing time.  This is what you get for encouraging me, sisters. I really do want to be a better listener. 

Dimmer Switch on Soft and Slow

Mr. Right.  As in "always right."   Seriously, though, he is a champ, a hero of the first order. No joking.  Mindy tells about waiting, shivering in the running pickup, heater cranking, while her Dad was working outside to thaw someone's frozen lines, or clean a sewer. More than a few customers could vouch for heroic endurance.  I don't actually hear the stories but I see what happens while I keep the home fires burning. It happens all the time during winter.  Comes in long after dark, exhausted and frozen. Takes a hot bath, eats some supper and does it all over again the next day - heading into battle against the worst of conditions because of the need, because he does not spare himself. The man deserves a medal.  And this new warm hat. 

Miserable cold.  I got it, so I know.

Simple toys are best.  When will we learn?

Fire building lesson.

Proud as Punch

Not crazy about the new phone camera -
Takes all kind of editing and fuss, but
the memories are keepers.

Okay, it does well in daylight.  More buttons to work on, maybe.

A Plug for VRBO.com ~ Swiss Chalet belonging to the Florin family, Solitude, Utah

A Plug for Wyoming -

Okay it doesn't all look like this, but have you ever noticed how magnificent the sky is?