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For the Love of Bread

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This summer, I returned from a two week vacation to Nova Scotia and discovered I had  gained six pounds. I complained to my husband, “Honey, I thought lobster was low in calories.”

“Not if it’s prepared in cheese sauce and served over fried potatoes,” he smiled.

Like many dieters, I decided to stop eating bread. After all, it’s those nasty carbs that make us gain weight, right? I knew saying no to bread would be a challenge for me. I routinely ate toast with peanut butter for breakfast. Even so, desperate to drop the vacation weight, I started eating oatmeal instead. Which by the way, I could only manage to consume if I heaped brown sugar on top. Over the next few days I pondered how unnatural it felt to not eat bread.

Bread is the staff of life. It has been around since the dawn of agriculture. Revolutions have occurred over the price of bread.

Bread is multicultural. Mexicans make tortillas, the French are known for baguettes, New Yorkers love bagels, and Greeks eat pita. Bread comes in all sizes, colors, and textures. It can be leavened or unleavened, and made with wheat, rye, oats, or corn.

Bread is a symbol of hospitality. According to scripture, the first Christians gathered for fellowship and the breaking of bread. Bread is so important to life it became the symbol for Christ’s body as part of the Eucharist. How can I give up something of such cultural and spiritual importance?

This morning I measured the peanut butter and enjoyed a little slice of life.

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What Do You Look for in a President?

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Have you decided which presidential candidate you will vote for on election day?  What qualities do you think make a good president?  I examined each candidate according to my own criteria to make my decision.

First, a good president needs to care. He or she must listen to the people he or she serves.  Second, a good president should be trustworthy. Someone you can count on to fulfill the duties of the job. Our president must be a good communicator, since they speak on behalf of our nation. America needs a strong leader who can take appropriate action if our country is threatened.  Temperament is also important. Our president must be able to handle the pressures of the office under stress. As top executive, the president needs to choose competent people for his staff. He or she must be a good delegator of responsibility.  Since our nation is head over heels in debt, we need a leader who will not waste taxpayer dollars. Finally, the best presidents are those who have overcome challenges in their past. They are fighters who do not give up easily.

After considering all of the above qualities, I believe my dog, Buddy, would make a terrific president.

img_5145Buddy cares. He listens to my problems after a bad day.  He can be trusted to come when I call his name. Buddy is a great communicator. He whines when he’s sad and wags his tail like crazy when he’s happy.

Buddy barks whenever he feels threatened. He’s never bitten anyone, but he has the capability to. As far as temperament goes, he’s sweet and calm.

Buddy is a great delegator of responsibility.  When he’s hungry, I feed him. I even pick up his poop for him.

Buddy would never put up with wasteful government spending. He makes sure every crumb I drop is put to good use.

As many of my friends know, Buddy has overcome challenges. In 2013 he suffered from paralysis in his hind legs due to a herniated disc. After surgery, and physical therapy he regained his ability to walk. Buddy is a fighter.

Buddy is my candidate for president. Oh,  I forgot, he’s not on the ballot this year.

Write in?

 

 

Web of Wonder

 

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One September night I noticed this spider web above our back door. The web looked scary. What if the architect dropped in my hair when I walked through the door?  As I looked closer, I appreciated the beautiful way it glistened under our porch light. The spider worked  hard to create a masterpiece. Why should I tear it down? After all, the web snared flying insects before they entered the house.

I strained my eyes to try and find the spider. The web hung several feet above my head. In the center I made out a small orange fuzzy looking ball. If that was the spider, it looked harmless.

I asked my family to take a look. Our daughter was visiting at the time. She knew  the spider was  a spotted orb weaver. “I had one build a web on my balcony,” she said. “I didn’t tear it down because it built an amazing web. It died after a few months.”

For her sake I didn’t disturb the web that night. But after a few more days, I wondered how big this web could get. What if I can no longer get through the door without feeling its sticky threads on my face?

I had an idea.  I’ll gently sweep out the web. The spider will probably stick to the broom. I’ll place the broom in the alley overnight and give the orb weaver a chance to escape without killing it. Then my daughter won’t think  I’m a murderer. I’ll be rid of this problem. I grabbed the broom and quickly carried out my plan before I could change my mind.

The next day I discovered the web was back in the same place. I couldn’t believe it. The spider must have hidden behind the porch light when I swept the web away. In twenty- four hours it rebuilt its web.  Then I saw it. I realized the orange fuzzy ball really did have legs and was scurrying down toward me. Yikes!

 

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I took a deep breath and my fear slowly dissipated. The spotted orb weaver was definitely a master builder. My plan to get rid of it failed.  Why don’t  I just let it be?  So I did for another week…

Until the exterminator came for his routine visit. “How are things?” he asked.

“I only saw one roach this month, and it was lying on its back.” I replied. “But there is a large spider web above the back door.”

The exterminator smiled, “I’ll take care of that.”

After his visit, I didn’t see a trace of the web above the door. I kind of missed the spotted orb, but after all, it was only a spider.

During the first week of October we prepared for the arrival of Hurricane Matthew. We expected the worst, and were relieved when Matthew did not make a direct hit on the Florida coast.  Orlando experienced winds strong enough to down trees in the area.

The day after the storm I noticed our porch light tilted sideways. As I looked closer I saw a smaller web hanging between the light and the side of the house.

Unbelievable, I thought. This spider is some escape artist. Its web was swept down. The door frame where it made its home was sprayed with poison. Somehow the spotted orb weaver built another web that withstood forty mph winds.  It will not leave until its ready. So now I wait. Maybe I’ll wear a hat when I go out.img_7704

 

 

Florida’s October Surprise

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Dear Fellow Floridians,

Like many of you, I’ve watched approaching hurricanes with anxiety and dread.  I’ve turned on the local weather every few hours.  I’ve prepared to the degree I can prepare. And like you, I’ve seen storm warnings that didn’t materialize. So as Hurricane Matthew churns its way through the Caribbean Sea, I wonder, what will happen this time?

I remember Hurricane Charlie in 2004. My daughter drove to Orlando when forecasters predicted the storm would make landfall near Tampa. Charlie surprised everyone when it missed Tampa, but passed through Orlando.  We never really know what is going to happen until the storm is closer.  Hurricane Matthew has that same kind of unpredictable nature.

So fellow Floridians, instead of worrying, let’s try to relax and think of positive things associated with hurricanes.  Since we have the opportunity to survive without power, we won’t be dogged by political ads on TV.  Without hot water, or maybe even any water, we can have bad hair days and no one will care. We can have romantic dinners of cold canned food by candlelight. After the storm passes, we can grill all the meat that defrosted in the freezer, and invite our neighbors over. We just need to look on the bright side.

All that wind and rain is good news for roofers. Building supply companies all over the country will benefit.  Downed trees provide work for tree removal companies. Local stores benefit from the sale of bottled water and batteries. A good hurricane can stimulate the economy.

Surfers love the high waves that only a big storm can provide. The storm surge can dredge up sunken treasure from pirate ships. Gold might even wash up on shore. A hurricane can deliver great finds for beachcombers.

Teachers and children love vacation time from school. Power outages encourage old fashioned activities like reading books, drawing, and writing.

During the days prior to a hurricane’s arrival, local weather reporters become big celebrities. This is their time to shine. They  stir up the drama and excitement! Today I tuned into Channel 13 to see a weather reporter predict the wind speeds of Hurricane Matthew for early Saturday.

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I hate to say this, but it looks like we’re doomed!

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Being

 

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Have you ever visited a place you could never forget? For me that place is Long Key State Park.  Located in the Florida Keys,  Long Key is a great place for being. When I say being, I mean a time to live in the moment. It’s an experience marked by feeling more closely connected to the natural world.  When our activities slow from a sprint to a crawl, we can better appreciate all of creation.

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Last October we rented a small RV from Cruise America and spent a few days in Long Key State Park. There, every campsite is oceanfront property. The rhythm of the waves is a constant soundtrack. Gentle sea breezes keep mosquitos away.  Most of the sites are lined with trees to afford privacy from neighbors.  Something amazing happens when you park an RV, get out comfortable camp chairs, and sit down facing the ocean. You don’t want to leave.

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When asked,  “What did you do while you were there?” I responded, “Nothing, and it was the best nothing of my life.” I loved to sit and watch the birds at low tide while they pecked among natural debris to find food. When they flew  away I watched a lone ant marching in the sand. Maybe he was a scout for the rest of the colony.  In the evening I saw the soft glow of moonlight reflect upon the surface of the water. The next morning the sky was ablaze of color as the sun rose above the horizon.   I realized that all of this nothing really was something. The world was full of life but I was always  too busy to notice.  I grew to appreciate the little things.

 

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So why did I need to go all the way to the Florida Keys to be?  That’s definitely food for thought.  For me, being requires several days of low activity and uninterrupted time in the outdoors.  If those conditions are met in a different location so be it. Camping in one place for several days definitely lends itself to being.  As I write this I am saddened to realize my one experience of living in the moment happened almost a year ago.  How ironic to make doing nothing my new goal.

Being is a state of rest that we rarely experience. According to the book of Genesis, after God created the earth, he rested on the seventh day.  I like to imagine God in a state of being. On His day of rest, God saw everything He had made, and said, “It is good.”

When have you experienced being? Leave a comment and tell me about it. Let’s support each other in being more and doing less.

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Football Sentiments

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OSU Band forming script Ohio

Football season is fast approaching. Here’s a little about my background. I graduated from Ohio State University and never attended a game. That has to be sacrilegious. I’m not much of  a sports person. Here’s the rub. I’m married to a guy who is. Especially when it comes to the Ohio State Buckeyes.

It’s Labor Day weekend. This morning I asked my husband, “What are we going to do this weekend?” He responded, “The Buckeyes are playing tomorrow.” Say no more.

For most of our married life, I avoided watching football on TV. I would busy myself around the house or go shopping. If I was home, the sounds of the game made a nice soundtrack for whatever I might be doing. The announcer’s voice became background noise for grading papers.

Once in a blue moon I’d sit down and watch  a championship game. I always had trouble concentrating on what was going on. All I knew was somebody grabbed that football and carried it across the goal line to achieve points. The football was so small and the players seemed so far away. That situation improved with the arrival of our big screen TV.  I can see better, but I’m still confused about the sport.

Last year I made a real effort and watched every  game.  Somehow my husband tolerated my interruptions whenever I asked, “Please explain, what’s going on now?” I really appreciate instant replays.

I would like to be a football fan.  Real fans look like they’re having so much fun. All that cheering and carrying on.  Real fans wear their team’s shirts. They have tailgate parties and eat all kinds of grilled meat. Isn’t that kind of primal? They get pumped up and they stay pumped! The fans stay committed through bad weather and losing seasons.

So I’m planning to watch the Buckeye game tomorrow. The big test is will I really watch, or sit there looking at Facebook on my phone? Go Bucks!

 

 

 

Rhyolite

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The word got out that gold was found.

Near Death Valley, Nevada ground

Miners moved west, eager to see

Beckoned by limbs of the Joshua tree.

News spread quickly, could it be true?

Men staked claims, a settlement grew.

Named it Rhyolite for the rock,

Soon its riches would be unlocked.

For five short years Rhyolite boomed.

Railroads, diners, and dim saloons

Five thousand people called it home.

Signs of progress, only on loan.

Panic traveled throughout the land.

Investors ceased to back the plan.

The rock contained so little gold,

Buildings stripped and materials sold.

The town went bust in 1910.

Quite a loss for wagering men.

Families left, the desert returned.

Seizing remnants of lessons learned.

Between the panes of shattered glass,

Near empty ruins of the past,

Joshua trees still raise their hands

Calling dreamers to the promised land.

 

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A Joshua tree

I wrote the poem Rhyolite after visiting the ghost town which is located near  Death Valley National Park The ruins looked like a war devastated place. Fences and signs were erected to warn people of the dangers. The old buildings  could collapse and the grounds were frequented by rattlesnakes.

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It was hot, really hot, over 100 degrees, but we walked around and saw what used to be the jail, cemetery, railroad depot, and bank.

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railroad depot

I imagined what Rhyolite might have been like in its prime, with people bustling about. Rhyolite was founded in 1904, and grew to a population of five thousand by 1908. The town had electricity and a hospital. Then, after the mines proved to contain very little gold, people moved on. By 1920 the population was zero.  What was it like for those people who hung on as long as they could, to see businesses close, and friends moving away?

I noticed there were a few Joshua trees in the area. Joshua trees inhabit southwestern deserts. They were named by the Mormons, who thought from a distance they looked like a man with his arms raised. The image reminded the Mormons of Joshua from the Old Testament, who after wandering in the desert for forty years, led Israel to the promised land. The sight of a Joshua tree gave the pioneers hope in a better tomorrow.

Maybe the Joshua trees of Rhyolite are calling dreamers to follow a new dream, somewhere else.

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