fast and blue

I pull into my drive and am accosted by a 9 year old. "Mimi!" she shrieks. She is very loud. "Mimi! Can you guess what I'm going to be for Hallowe'en?"

I guess. A princess? "No! Guess again."

A witch? "No! Guess again!"

A dog? Clearly this is going to be a long conversation.

Give me a clue. "Okay, it is blue."

I know! A smurf!

Complete confusion covers her face. "What's a smurf?" Note picture on left.

Well give me another clue. "It's blue. And it's fast. Mimi! You KNOW what it is!" But sadly I do not know. Superman? Is he blue? He is fast.

But of course I can't land on the right character. Finally she looks at me in disgust. "Blue. Fast. Haven't you ever heard of Sonic Hedgehog?"

Shaking her head in disbelief she walks away.

Come by for candy! I call to her, bleakly...standing there in the distant past, in smurf-land.

rhubarb

It's been good year for rhubarb. There's hardly a yard in Canada that doesn't have a rhubarb plant sprouting up as soon as summer comes. But in Kentucky I had to work to have a rhubarb plant. The problem is heat. Heat and dryness... rhubarb needs cold nights and lots of wet. This summer was rhubarb heaven here... not exactly cold but cool nights and lots of rain.

So today I harvested my plant for (possibly) the last time. I came in with a great pile of strong red stalks and no real idea what to do. I know how to make a fabulous rhubarb custard pie but I needed more. I started through my cookbooks and found a pie or two, but not much. Then I came upon a cookbook called "Schmecks Appeal" written by a group of German women and given to me in the late 80's.

Schemcks Appeal has a WHOLE CHAPTER simply and beautifully titled "Rhubarb." Included in the collection of recipes for everything from stews to punch to coffee cakes is woven tales of great rhubarb feasts and funny occurrences. Friends tell stories about friends.

I had forgotten how much I love this kind of old German farm women who cackle like hens with roaring laughter, are undaunted by any problem and who can create meals that take an hour to eat. These are not ultra thin babes with 25 pairs of shoes. They may indeed have ten pairs of boots, but they are some kind of beautiful plain folk.

Not that these women can't really 'put it on' if they so choose. They know what beauty is, and they have resources. The thing is though, that they think not much is more beautiful than a kid with a big smile on his face, or an afternoon of work with a friend and a truck load of laughing. (Often at men.)

So my rhubarb is taking me on a walk back to visit Elizabeth and Martha and Bernice and Ruth. I hope someday my granddaughters have a rhubarb moment with me.

Birthday boy

My kid Ben is 32 this coming weekend. I sent him a box to Indonesia and it arrived in ten days - which makes me endlessly happy. The boxes are always opened but nothing seems to be taken. Beautiful.

Also can I say that Ben and Kari have two of the most fabulous kids... who I am currently loving with candy and treats - but that must change. I hear Kari's folks are traveling to see them for New Year's which makes me just a tiny bit jealous.

Kari is running in a marathon in Malaysia on the 22nd. The family will travel there and wait for her at the finish line. I can't wait til little Flo runs a marathon with her mom. First she has to get through the baby fat stage. smile. Blaise is spider-man so he could probably just fly alongside.

Our people are what matters most, don't you think?

No takers, huh?

So... no takers on yesterday's blog. That's okay. Perhaps it is too hard an issue.



Last night big Steve and I came to see Afrizo, (means African Zone) a nine person singing group from the Daystar University in Nairobi. They were led by a woman of 'traditional build' (as McCall Smith would describe her in "Ladies Detective Agency)whose sound and personality filled the room.

At one time in the performance the group moved through the audience, singing over and around people who mostly curled into themselves (and admittedly, the group had little sense of 'personal space,' embarrassed and awkward. With one shining exception. A Korean family with three small children were there... and when the group (still singing loudly and with passion) paused there, the children reached out their hands, fascinated, and the Africans responded ... and a lovely cross cultural moment happened. The children, in simplicity, were able to receive the gift of song, like few of us adults had.

bones

A woman friend wrote this little poem about her friend's struggle and I found it to be very visceral.

I watched you self-destruct

today when your disease consumed

your judgment

your reason

your bones

your steps

and that too familiar glaze manifested

in your childlike eyes before it snapped

like a light switch and turned on

the woman who handed you
the truth the rest of us can’t
or is that simply you
because I can't find
where your disease ends
and you begin

It was fifteen years ago when I first encountered an eating disorder in a dear friend of mine. As she destroyed her body she destroyed something inside all of us who were close to her. In her desperation she became a weapon of sorts and the shrapnel from her exploding soul still remains in small pieces inside me.

Another friend of mine who understands alcoholism told me that often the alcoholic who has acted destructive doesn't remember the incident ... it is the people around him/her that hold the memory. I think any addictive disorder has this element of putting the pain onto others.

We are connected to each other more profoundly than we sometimes allow. We are constantly receiving form from others, and donating form to them. In other words, what I am changes you, and what you are changes me. Who we are, matters.

As I've aged I have come to know that I can do hardly anything to change someone else's life, and certainly almost nothing to influence their choices. Many people ask for advice, few take it. Maybe that is just as well. But I have also come to believe that if I keep facing toward my own health, my own wellness, then I become, simply, a peaceful presence. This is what it means to refuse to cooperate with the dysfunction/manipulation. I think this is also the way to be of help.

Meg's book

If you want to be absolutely delighted, click on my daugher's blog, "Fresh Coffee on the Front Porch" and read ... my 9 yr old Meg is writing a book, chapter by chapter, and it is being posted on the blog. (Don't tell her but I am going to publish it for her for Christmas!) (Meg is the one on the right!)

...honestly!

More than one friend thinks the blog on Today's Christian Woman was a REAL interview...come on friends! It is comedy~!