Playing catch up

I wish I had had had my camera with me at church this morning.  Little Guy has been learning a little about St. Francis at home, and was thrilled to discover that the church’s meditation garden has a child-sized statue of the charitable, animal-loving saint.  So what did Little Guy do?  In his very literal, tactile, loving way, he ran right up to the statue, threw his arms around it, and, fingering every engraved nook and cranny, walked around it (still hugging it), and even kissed it on the cheek.  When I told him we had to leave, he gave the statue a final cuddle, backed up, and waved, “Goodbye, St. Francis!”  And off we went.

Our local library has a good little selection of children’s books on St. Francis…I think we’ll be checking them out this week.

I’m sorry it has been so long since I posted.  I have been VERY busy; we have started our year of homeschooled Pre-K, and along with it has come a great deal of planning, and some new activities.  I have joined with a couple of other mothers to start a playgroup for children with neurological issues…we had our first meeting this past Friday, and it went very well.  There were only three children in the group, but I’m hoping it will grow as the word gets out.  In the coming few weeks, we will be going on an exciting field trip to Cheekwood Gardens in Nashville, participating in an outdoor Read, Art, Music, and Play group, having a good friend come visit for a week, and continuing our preschool routine at home….lots of good books, fine motor skill work, picture study (great artists), alphabet, counting, art activities, outdoor time, and music.  Unfortunately, we missed the fall cut off for APSU’s homeschool PE program (they have a group for four and five year olds that focuses on spatial awareness and large motor skills…just what we need!), but we will be enrolling for it next term.

We have also been talking about and adjusting to the idea of our new baby.  Most of you who read this blog will know that I am now sixteen weeks pregnant with Baby #2 (currently referred to as Grapefruit Baby).  Vincent has been vacillating between being pleased (first he said he wanted a girl baby AND a boy baby, but when told we were only having one, decided he wants a boy), and refusing to talk about it.  I am trying to gently work on his comfort level, so any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

On a personal note, I find myself for the first time in several years settling into something that I can only say resembles a deep peace.  Many things have converged to make this happen.  I can’t go into all of them, but suffice it to say that multiple pressures and tensions have lessened, and my relationships all seem to be in very good places.  I am reading voraciously, writing well, and praying more and with more confidence; and I have a sense of assurance in moving ahead in my life…really, a sense of inspiration and excitement…that I had lost for a little while due to various types of stress, pain, and exhaustion.  So for all of this, I am terribly grateful.  I have looked so long for silver linings that the near absence of clouds is blinding.

I must go soon to get Little Guy down for his nap and prepare Merlin for the Blessing of the Animals at church this afternoon (hooray…maybe we can get a break on the seizures for a while…ha), but I did want to mention Madeleine L’Engle’s book Walking on Water.  This is the best book I have ever read (and reread)  on the profound relationship between spirituality and art…for those of us who are artists AND Christians, but tend to eschew the idea of “Christian art.”  I highly recommend it to anyone…artists and non-artists, Christians and non-Christians alike .

Have a wonderful week!

Why and how we eat the way we eat

This topic has been on my mind recently for a few reasons.  Firstly, we recently moved to a new area, and so I have had to find new sources for all of our “important” foods; secondly,  I am still on my learning-to-bake-gluten-free journey (which has been going on for about three months now); and thirdly, as always, I have been reading widely on food, health, and ethical eating. Several meaningful articles and message board posts that I have read recently inspired me to put down in one place why and how we eat the way we do.

The topic of food is a big one at our house, and a very big one for me.  My obsession with food has ranged from ambivalent (when I was young) to unhealthy (when I was slightly older) to healthily passionate (now, I like to think.)  I am passionate about what I shop for, what I cook, and what I feed my family because I think that what goes into our bodies deserves FAR more attention than it is generally given.  Food and nutrition are the building blocks of our well-being.  And for the most part, I have found (imagine my surprise) that the foods that are better for the environment, our human and non-human fellow creatures, and our taste buds, are  almost universally better for our bodies too.

So how DO we eat?  Well…here you go.  We eat (to the best of our ability, which does not mean ALWAYS…we have our off-days just like anyone else) a whole- foods diet, and and do our best to make it organic, local, humane,  and gluten-free.  Whenever any one of these things comes up in conversation, I get raised eyebrows.  Sometimes it’s because it must be SO expensive…”I’d love to eat like that, but I could never afford it.”  Sometimes it’s because I (apparently) must be an ultra-liberal, tree-hugging nut.  “Why exactly does humane versus factory-farmed matter?  They’re just animals…”  Sometimes it’s because people literally can not imagine spending as much time as I do in the kitchen, or why it might be worth it.  “I just don’t have the touch for it…it’s nice if you enjoy it, though.”  Some have no idea what gluten-free means; and I don’t blame them.  It’s pretty new for me too.)  And to some, the whole idea of making one’s own food is just so foreign that they smile and nod politely, with no concept of what I’m talking about.  Because we live in a fast-food, frozen-food nation.

So…why organic? There is so much information out there on this one that I won’t bombard you with my own version.  Quite simply, I really don’t care for a nice spoonful of chemicals and pesticides along with my broccoli.  Organic food is just plain better…please do the research.  You’ll be glad you did.  That being said: grocery-store organic food IS expensive.  So how do we do it?  Well…we prioritize.  There are some foods that are significantly more dangerous to eat non-organic (strawberries, for instance…thanks a lot California for your recent laws allowing use of a particularly dangerous pesticide on berries).    Celery is another high-risk food;  fortunately, organic celery is relatively inexpensive and easily obtained. Foods lower on the dangerous pesticide scale would include many of the thick-skinned fruits….mangoes, bananas, watermelons, kiwis, and so on.  These foods are less harmful than others if you need to choose which foods to buy non-organic.

Here’s another thing though (and this borders on my next point). Many small, local farmers who sell at farmer’s markets or straight from their farms may not be USDA certified organic, but do raise their food in ways that meet organic specifications.  Sometimes these farms are too small to be USDA certified; sometimes they don’t care to be.  But often you will find that their produce meets or exceeds the quality of commercially available organic produce.  If it is raised without harmful chemicals or pesticides, but is not certified “organic” (because, remember, in the US “organic” is an official label that cannot be used without going through a process), it will often be labeled “all-natural”, or something similar.  But if you want to know the origins of your food, and how it is raised, the best way is to get to know your local farmers. Often they are extremely passionate about the safety and cleanliness of their food, and will be happy to discuss their methods with you.

And that, of course, brings me to my next point…why eat local??  Well, there are a number of reasons, among them the one I referenced above.  If you eat food grown in your own county, or maybe the neighboring one, you can know exactly how your food was raised, which chemicals were or were not used on it, whether it is GMO (genetically modified) or of a superior heirloom variety, and so on.  You can go see the field or the garden; you can meet your farmer.  You can buy eggs that were laid that morning, or milk from the night before.  You can often go pick your own blueberries, strawberries, apples, or peaches.

But aside from knowledge of the origins of your food and assurance of its safety, there is also the matter of our carbon footprint…both as individuals, and as a nation.  “Carbon footprint” is a term thrown around and joked about a great deal; but simply put, it has to do with the relative impact we have upon the earth and the environment.  For instance, most Western nations have an unconscionably huge carbon footprint. We devour not only our own resources, but those of other nations, often without giving a fair wage or return.  We do not properly replenish the earth from which we derive our nourishment; instead, we milk it dry and then pollute it with our waste and greenhouse gases (remember the recent news on the NY harbor?)  Local eating enables you to support businesses and farms that pollute the environment less, promote corporate and agricultural diversity and draw business away from the huge genetically-modified grain/soy corporations (i.e. Monsanto), provide farmers and workers with a fair wage for their work, and reduce the number of miles your food travels to get to you…thereby reducing the amount of pollution you participate in producing.  It’s a small thing we can all do to help a big problem.  I personally love my trips to local farms and farmer’s markets.  I love buying just-picked produce, talking to the farmers who usually become my friends, and learning how to cook new things.  I love the sense of community instilled by people who support local farms. Now, of course, there are exceptions to the rule; the biggest ones (for us) being non-local coffee and flours.  Coffee…well…let’s just say my contribution to the environment if I were to stop drinking coffee might be canceled out by my significantly lower contribution to work and family.  And flour…this is another one of those things that, unless you live in a grain state, is virtually impossible to obtain locally. So of course we make exceptions.  But we try to consider our exceptions, and make sure that they are worth it for our health and quality of life.

Why eat humane?  This question always baffles me.  Why would anyone NOT want their meat (and dairy, and eggs) to be humanely produced?  In fact, I don’t even like that word…”produced”…used in relation to animals.  Many meat-related illnesses were unheard-of before animals became a “product.”  Animals are not products; they are living, breathing, sentient creatures, deserving of a humane, comfortable life and death.  As we lost sight of this and brought factory farms into existence, we came to separate the meat and bones on our dinner plates from the strolling, rolling, grazing animal.  And as this happened…and our meat and milk animals became more of an object/product to be injected with every antibiotic and grown hormone under the sun, we became more and more distanced from the sources of our food.  Most people would never be able to walk through a factory farm or meat plant, but have no problem eating an animal raised and killed under those conditions.  And this baffles me.  How can we be so detached? so childish?  How can we assume that because something is out of our sight, it doesn’t matter?

So…how do we do it?  If you have ever looked at humane-labeled meat, you know it is expensive…almost prohibitively so.  Well, for me, the answer is an easy one; rather than eat cheaply produced, inhumane meat every day, why not eat expensive, ethical meat once or twice a week, and eat vegetarian the rest of the time?  That is what we do.  We buy local, humanely raised  meat….which means free-range, grass-fed, humanely killed, well-cared for animals.  We pay a lot for it, but we only eat it once every several days, and we get the most possible out of it.  I try always to think gratefully of the animal who gave me the meat I am cooking, and I use every bit…from the meat to the bones to the offal…so that I do not disrespect the animal’s life by wasting its death.  We may roast a local chicken one night, use the offal for gravy, make chicken salad from the leftovers, and simmer a wonderful stock from the bones.  And that will be all the meat we will eat that week.  The rest of the week, we will have amazing veggie pizzas, frittatas, soups, salads, quiches, bean dishes, and so on.  It is a very small price to pay for being at peace with the way you eat.

Why gluten-free?  Like I said, this one is new to us just in the past few months.  Little Guy has had a host of stomach issues over the years, some which are connected to some neurological issues; and recently we decided to make the plunge into a gluten-free lifestyle for his sake.  It was terrifying at first, but I have seen him make enormous progress in his sleep patterns, sensory issues, and eating habits in the past few months.  And those changes have motivated me to stay consistent and learn everything I can learn about effective, delicious, gluten-free baking and cooking.  I have gone from being completely clueless to, just this week, turning out some pretty astounding (if I say so myself) pizza crusts, yeast bread, brownies, and chocolate chip cookies that all rival their wheat-heavy counterparts.  It is definitely a work in progress, and I am learning all the time, but we are all committed to staying on this path for the time being since it is helping one of us so much.

So what does this mean, on a daily basis?  What do we actually eat?  Well, for breakfast, I might make gluten-free pancakes (using local eggs, butter, and honey), and fruit (hopefully local also…right now we have some amazing berries, peaches, and cantaloupe in the refrigerator.)  Lunch might be grilled cheese sandwiches on gluten-free bread, along with salad or fruit; or perhaps a frittata or leftovers.  Dinner…shall we say a local chicken, roasted with farmer’s-market onions, peppers, and tomatoes, with a side of new potatoes (also from the market) sauteed in my own butter with fresh herbs, a salad, and freshly-hulled purple-hull beans?  Sounds delicious to me.  I go farmer’s marketing a couple of times a week. I make trips into the country for fresh chicken, eggs, and milk.  I search out the best, most economical sources for gluten-free flours and baking products.  Eating this way makes me happy; it gives me a chance to feed my loved ones the best, healthiest, and most ethical food available, and exert my creativity too.  It is incredibly rewarding.

So my question is…why wouldn’t we eat this way?

 

Just green tips, mostly

“As writers and educators, we see that simplicity unfolds much like fruit trees emerging from the armored dormancy of winter: first green tips of leaves appear, then diaphanous blossoms spread their wings and, finally, pale green fruit ripens into a cherry or peach or apple.”                   

–Frank Levering & Wanda Urbanska

 

I’ve been meaning to post more, honest.  But everything that’s been going on since we got here…the unpacking, the search for a babysitter, the quest for the right food, the meeting of new friends, the farmer’s market Saturday mornings, the trips with Little Guy to the library, the planting of the garden, the cooking (lots and lots of that), the finishing of a couple of writing projects…all of it has just gotten in the way again, somehow.  As usual.

So I’ve been very busy, but in a good way.  The garden is coming along beautifully.  It is tiny, as yet, but I have in six tomato plants, some cucumbers, a rosemary plant, and several basil plants.  I also have seeded two kinds of heirloom carrots for my fall garden, and have heirloom kale, spinach, and broccoli seeded in flats on the porch, hopefully to be transferred into the ground (much of which is not yet broken) around the end of next month.  Chinese garlic chives will go in as soon as I get time.  When I began getting my hands dirty here, I realized that I had never known what it was to work with soil that was not either red clay, or a mass of rocks.  This dirt is absolutely fantastic.  I’m no expert, but it’s soft, pretty dark, and easy to work with, with scarcely a rock to be found. All of my plants are thriving in their sunny spot on the other side of the back yard, and I am actually getting a tiny bit brown from my afternoons spent gardening in the sun while Little Guy naps.

Of course, in addition to what I am growing, we have our wonderful local farmer’s markets.  This past Saturday, I spent a leisurely forty-five minutes at the downtown market, examining the stalls and talking with the vendors.  The flower man wanted to know what I did with the absolutely huge bunch of basil I bought from him last week; so I told him about lining the tops of my kitchen cabinets with waxed paper for herb-drying, and about making herbed butter from my own freshly made butter and his basil.  Another farmer looked down at me as I finished sorting through his purple-hulled beans and started in on the okra bin, and said, “You know, you’re awfully young to eat the way you do.  You’re one in a million.”  I think it was the nicest compliment I’ve gotten in a long time.  After I bought my okra and beans, I headed down to my favorite vendor (whose name I still don’t know), to chat for a while and buy some of the special low-acid tomatoes that Little Guy loves and that (amazingly!) do not upset his stomach.  This particular vendor, an older gentleman who has sold at market here for twenty-five years, is one of the most pleasant people I have ever met.  He and his wife used to come to market together…he would prepare the farm’s produce for sale, while she presided over her baked and canned goods. She passed away two years ago, but the market-goers still speak fondly of her;  and while the baked goods have fallen by the wayside, her husband still stays up nights doing the canning according to her recipes, and putting her name on the labels. I have tried a few different jars from him, and have to say that between them, he and his wife have come up with a mean green tomato relish.  I told him Saturday how much Hubby and I loved it, and his smile lit up the whole place.

………………………

This morning, Little Guy and I made a quick trip into Amish/Mennonite country.  I was after milk, cream, chicken, and sorghum flour….he was after farm animal stickers and a tiny chirping stuffed chick he had seen on our last excursion.  We both found everything we were looking for, and a few more things besides. I watched Little Guy’s face light up when the bonneted woman behind the cash register showed him how to work his chirping chick, and she and I both laughed as he imitated it…”Chirp! chirp! chirp! said the chick!” (He has a tendency to say things in narrative format…)

While driving on the way home, I narrowly missed hitting one of the most beautiful butterflies I’ve ever seen, and felt my momentary guilt surge into relief and joy as I saw it fly away into the trees bordering the nearby farm. And I remembered the news from a week and a half ago about the young Amish girl from the area who was killed when a car crashed into her family’s buggy.  I wondered about the true value of a society so fast paced that we obliterate butterflies without a thought, and can’t seem to slow down for those who choose to live life at a slower (perhaps healthier?) pace than ourselves.

We passed a field, and saw a tiny Mennonite boy cantering round and round on what appeared to be a Shetland pony.

Then we went home. I was tempted to say…we left the idyll and went home to suburbia, but really that wouldn’t be true.  Because when we got home, we made pimento cheese sandwiches (on gluten-free bread) and ate them along with fresh peaches in the sun on the back porch. After that, we sat and drew letters and talked about their sounds.  I did some cleaning and gardening this afternoon, then tonight after dinner baked gluten-free chocolate chip cookies and sat around the table sharing laughs, cookies, and milk with my boys.  Little Guy and I giggled uproariously over some of his favorite books before bedtime, and as he was falling asleep, he called me into his room.  I asked what he wanted, and he said he wanted to hold me.  So I lay down next to him, and he asked for a song.  I sang about talking to the angels, dancing on moonbeams, and peaceful worlds until he was almost asleep.

And now I think I will finish the dishes and make Hubby’s lunch for tomorrow.  And then, maybe, I’ll pour a big glass of wine, go curl up on the futon in our study/spare room/guest room/storage room, and read till I fall asleep.

Sounds pretty idyllic to me.

 

 

 

Welcome to our Kentucky life

This is going to be a quick post, as we are about to head out for a family excursion to the library here in our new town…Little Guy is sorely in need of an outing geared towards him, and Hubby wants to check out the religion section (surprise, surprise!) But I have had several people leave me comments on Facebook and elsewhere asking how we like Kentucky, our new house, and our new town. And now that we finally have internet (as of yesterday…a week and a half after getting here!), I don’t want to leave you all hanging for too long.   So for those who have asked, here is a lightning bullet by bullet update.

• We LOVE our new town!  We are on the very south side of Kentucky, right in the middle of farming country.  Our new town has enough of a downtown that we can feel like we are in the city, then drive fifteen minutes and be in the middle of beautiful fields and forest.  The people are extremely friendly, and we have already made a few connections and acquaintances.  Even Little Guy appears pleased with his new library, park, and bookstore.
• We also love our new house.  It is the perfect size for us, and is just on the edge of the suburban area of town…so while we live on a quiet, pleasant residential street, our backyard overlooks a large farm.  Little Guy loves the yard and his new bedroom (in which we have finally set up his adult bed, converted from his daybed), I love the thoroughly modern kitchen with tons of counter space, Hubby and I love our master suite (which has a recessed ceiling, two kinds of lighting, a hallway with his and her walk-in closets and separate bath, and a great view of the trees and farm), and everybody loves our covered back deck.
• FOOD–if you know me, you know that has been a big deal for me…finding sources of local food so we could transition immediately on moving here.  The results of my quest have been even better than I could have hoped!  Between two different farmer’s markets, I can visit the market FOUR days out of the seven, if I choose (gasp!) I have also already found sources for local, humane chicken, gluten free foods, local milk and dairy, and more.  We spent a very pleasant afternoon in Amish country yesterday finding food and flowers and gorging ourselves on blueberries.  And then, last night,  I made a lovely tri-colored tomato tart, which we consumed with local wine while sitting on our back deck listening to the birds sing.  *sigh of contentment*
• The only negative experience we have had so far was a church that we visited Sunday….Little Guy loved it (surprisingly), but Hubby and I were *much* less than impressed.  It made me a little homesick for our great little church in Missouri.  (Miss you guys!)

Well that is it for now, as I am in demand for our library trip.  Let me just say that I think this place is going to be very good for us, in many ways…more than I have time to relate right now.  I have been meditating and philosophizing in my own quiet way quite a lot over the past week and a half, during our internet-free period, and have some thoughts to share.  But they will have to wait.  Hope you are all well and having a peaceful day…more from this end soon.

And again…

We move often…far too often, in fact.  Some of my friends and even extended family have a hard time keeping up with which state we’re in at any given time.  I have tried to compensate for my frequent up-rootings by becoming less social, going on fewer lunch dates, and generally holding myself back from others a bit more than is natural for me.

But sometimes I just can’t help myself.  I meet these wonderful people, and I want to love them.  And that gets me in trouble.

Tonight I’m a little sad.  Yes, we are on our way to a great new assignment for Hubby and a lovely area of the country.  Yes, I am excited about being closer to my family, being done with a couple of writing projects for other people and having more time to focus on my own creative work, and homeschooling my son in the fall.  I can’t wait to meet a new, like-minded friend I have connected with online who has already very kindly invited us to come over to dinner when we get settled.  I am looking forward to exploring Nashville.  And I am ecstatic about living within easy driving distance of a Whole Foods and multiple wonderful farmer’s markets.

But I’m leaving behind a pretty great little farmer’s market, with people I have come to know and love over the past year.  I got a couple of hugs from one person in particular (if you’re reading this you know who you are) that brought tears to my eyes.  I got kind hugs and handshakes from my Mennonite friends, who said they would miss me and hope I find a great farmer’s market where I’m going.  I was wished best of luck and given condolences on my horrible week this week by another farmer’s market friend who, to my surprise, has been keeping up with my Facebook updates and was concerned.

I went to pick up used moving boxes for the second time from a new acquaintance who just moved here, and with whom, while chatting over breaking down cardboard, I discovered I have a very great deal in common.  This person and I probably will not keep in touch…it’s one of those potential friendships just barely missed through bad timing.  I then had lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant, and because I didn’t have Hubby and Little Guy with me, was asked to “please come again once more before moving!” by the owner, who loves Little Guy and is always happy to see him.  After lunch, I went to the commissary to pick up a few groceries and ran into a librarian friend, who was horrified to find out I was leaving and, much to my surprise, gave me a giant hug right in the middle of the store.  And while still in the commissary, I was greeted by the owner of Hubby’s and my favorite little Korean lunch spot, who insisted that we come for lunch “one more time” so she could tell us good bye.

And finally, I had a sweet phone call from a very good friend with whom I’ve only really connected in the last few months.  I wish I had met her earlier.  She called to ask if our bad week had gotten better, and has already offered a couple of times to help if we need anything during our transition period.  I’m hoping to see her at least one more time before we leave.

And tomorrow we go to church, for the next-to-last time, to see some of the people who have made us feel most at home here and have been incredibly loving and supportive of all of us.

Yes…I try not to put down roots.  Every time we move, I tell myself, “Don’t make too many friends.  Don’t get too close to anyone.  Don’t fall in love with this place.”  But every time, I find so many people to love and so many beautiful things that I can’t help opening up.

And now I’m crying, again.

 

Balance

Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony.

-Thomas Merton

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about balance recently…probably because it is not something that comes easily to me.  Perhaps my problem is the dangerous combination of a slightly obsessive personality with a well-defined streak of perfectionism; perhaps it is the fact that my life has been such a whirlwind of change over the past several years that I can’t seem to slow down long enough to think before something else spirals out of control.

Or maybe balance is just difficult.  I tend to think of it in big, sweeping terms–as in, I need to balance my life.  I need to organize my home.  I need to structure my son’s schedule.  I need to build my marriage.  I need to create a life plan and stick to it.

Sometimes, I get started on one of these projects and make excellent headway–for five minutes, or maybe five days.  But then the UPS man knocks at the door and my dog has another two hour seizure and messes all over my kitchen floor, necessitating three baths and extensive cleaning.  Little Guy decides it’s the perfect time to take a trip to throw rocks in the river, instead of working puzzles and reading nursery rhymes as planned.  Then a tornado hits (like last week), making it impossible to go to the river after all, and said Little Guy promptly has a meltdown.  My husband leaves town for two months, and I have a choice between keeping a perfect house, or having a happy child and maintaining my sanity.  I cook a lovely, multi-course,  gluten-free meal, but run out of time to write; or I accomplish my writing goal and forget to eat.  A family member passes away.  Another family member goes through crisis and needs hours of reassurance over the phone.  Little Guy gets sick and I have to cancel a meeting.  I catch it from him and have to cancel another meeting.  The lawn needs to be mowed, but I am afraid of waking up Little Guy when he’s sleeping, and he needs constant supervision while awake.  The dishes need to be done.  The hardwood floors need to be swept. There are toys on the stairs.  There are chalk scribblings all over the deck.  There are three stacks of books on the piano bench, and when I need to practice, I end up just moving them to the floor.  Little Guy screams because I am practicing and didn’t hear his question.  The phone rings and is a wrong number.  And then I remember…oh yes, we’re moving in just over three weeks, and have not yet found a place to live.

In short, life happens. All of my perfect plans are distorted beyond recognition.  Schedules fail.  Balance vanishes.  Relationships strain.  And I am left alone and tired at the end of the day,  screaming silently at a blank computer screen.

If there is anything I have learned over the past several years, it is this: dealing with change is not my strong point.  There is a reason my blood pressure has been volatile, my migraines have returned in force, and my ability to focus for long periods has at times vanished completely.

So I’m having to rethink my idea of balance.  I am learning that trying to balance on a grand scale doesn’t work for me.  Maybe it works for some, whose lives are less crazy or who are naturally better at organization than I am.  But I must learn to find balance in the very, very small things.

Like the choice to cut myself some slack on dinner and serve up leftovers so that we can go have a pleasant evening at the park afterward.  Or the realization that maybe I need to just take a few minutes out to pet Merlin; after all, the passing yesterday of the neighbor’s elderly Husky is a sad reminder that Merlin may not be with us too much longer.  Vacuuming his fur off the rug can wait a few more minutes.

I cut down on the amount of makeup I wear (which has been a lifelong source of stress to me anyway), and gain a precious five minutes in the morning.  Then I spend all of that recovered five minutes smelling the wild roses on the back hill–and consider the time well spent.

I talk to my husband for two hours in the evening and don’t fret over the fact that Little Guy’s bedtime is pushed back by thirty minutes.

I take five minutes to clear away one stack of papers, and don’t beat myself up over the other stack that’s still sitting there when I leave for Little Guy’s much-anticipated library trip.

I cook a simple meal with an extravagant dessert, and watch my family’s eager faces as they bite into something special.

Instead of eating out alone for lunch and stressing over the crowds, I pack a solo picnic and eat it with my feet dangling over the riverbank.

And somehow, if I am conscious of as many minutes as I can manage in this way, I come out in the end with a vague sense of a day well-ordered, even if the car still hasn’t been cleaned, I have a thousand words left to write to meet my goal, and I forgot to deposit that check. Those things can wait. Life can’t.