Confessions of a weak, WEAK woman

I have mentioned in past posts how I can resist candy and junk food all day long, but when it comes to baked goods I am rendered helpless.

Well, yesterday, my random act of kindness backfired and has come back to bite me square in the fanny... literally.

I decided James needed a treat so I called around Mac to find someplace that would deliver cookies to his office. I managed to find a florist who knows of a place that makes the best frosted cookies ever and can deliver them before lunch! Everything is working out perfectly so far. He feels all warm and fuzzy AND he'll gain weight and I WON'T! (insert maniacal laugh track here.)

The cookies arrive, he calls and thanks me profusely, to which my natural reaction is to ask, "So, how are they? What are the like?"

This is where the trouble starts.

"Oh, they're GREAT! They're the size of a DESSERT PLATE and SLATHERED IN FROSTING!!! They're SOFT and CHEWY and CRISPY on the edges and ONE just about put me OVER THE EDGE so I decided to share them with the office."

To which my dainty reply was, "DUDE!! You had better bring some home to me if you ever want me to send you cookies again!!"

And so he did.

Damn... er... bless him.

He brought home two. More perfect examples of superior bakery issue I have never seen.

I was entranced. The textures. The flavors. The quintessential pairing with ice-cold milk so fresh it was mooing that morning... NIRVANA!

I am powerless in the face of such forces.


I

ate

one

whole

cookie

on

the

spot.

So then I said to myself, "the only thing as good as the cold milk combo would be that of said ambrosia with, say, the perfect cup of coffee... and mere hours prior I just happened to procure nearly a pound of Organic Sumatra Gayo Mountain roasted only yesterday!

But, wait! I should save that cookie for the girls...

...though they don't even know it's there so they won't miss it..."

Oh, how the battle raged. But I did manage to get some sleep.


This morning, James brought me my coffee in bed. Wow! This new level of service is unprecedented and he better be careful with such indulgent behavior because I spoil faster than shellfish in July.

So, I go padding out to the kitchen, coffee in hand and what jumps out at me from behind the wine rack? Why, that dastardly cookie, of course!

After roughly .85 seconds of grappling, it was bisected and half was meandering blissfully down my esophagus, awash in cream-laden java. Ahhhhhh.

That... was... PERFECTION! But that's IT!

I have recently lost very nearly 30 pounds. Though involuntary and not a program I would recommend, still, I needed to be rid of the weight and plan to TRY to keep it off with exercise now that my appetite has returned, much to my chagrin.

Afternoon arrived, and along with it, lunchtime.

I had a pretty reasonable meal... half of a leftover chicken breast, rice and broccoli. Yippee for me!

As I'm taking my plate to the kitchen a quick whiff of freshly roasted coffee teases my right nostril.

I steel myself against it and press on to the sink.


I remind myself that the very complicated coffee maker would need to be completely dismantled, cleaned out and reassembled to make ONE STINKING CUP OF COFFEE only to have to repeat the whole process once again for the morning brew.

Way too much trouble for a single cup of afternoon joe.

Then, I turn to walk across the kitchen and my eyes fall on the other half of the morning's transgression... and my mind darts nimbly to FRENCH PRESS!!


One cup of coffee is a cinch in a plunger pot and if I get that blasted second half of cookie out of my life then I can move on and get back to focusing on carrot sticks and Yoga... Right?


Ok. I'm done.

It's gone.

I'm safe now.


When will that florist call me back and tell me where I can get MORE?!!! I can't stop thinking about THAT DAMNED COOKIE!!


Ahem.


Ok. I'm off to the kitchen to get more carrots. Yoga starts in four hours and fifteen minutes and I have some serious karmic reparations to make.

Ohm... There is no cookie... Ohm... There is no cookie... Ohm... There is no cookie...

Directive of the day

Do some unexpected kindness for someone close to you... or anyone, really.

Random acts of kindness and spontaneous expressions of love are never a waste of time and always make me feel even better than the person for whom I do them. It's the best antidote I know for my own bad attitude or personal funk.

I'm a total junkie for the response... and am horrible at keeping surprises... so, yea, it's totally a selfish thing for me to make someone else happy. I think it's a good kind of selfish, though. :)

Get out there and pay it forward, Y'all!

God spoke to me through Thai food.

It's important to recognize when the fortune cookie is smarter than you are.

The wisdom delivered here hit me right between the eyes. It goes far beyond exposing the recklessness of deception. It's also a reminder I can't put anything over on God.

I have finally *really* figured out that I can't show God a particular side of me. He sees the WHOLE of me... "warts and all" as they say. What's more He LOVES the whole of me and doesn't hold my warts against me. He isn't even repulsed by the great big booger hanging off my nose. All He sees is the being that He created me to be.

Beautiful. Radiant. Flawless.

That doesn't mean anyone else sees me that way, or needs to, or that I think I'm perfect because God sees me that way. It REALLY doesn't mean that He thinks I don't need any improvement or correction. God has been correcting my ass off in recent months. What it means is that I don't need to be self-conscious, because I'm good enough, just the way I am, for anyone... even me.

Which brings me to the other truth that this fortune cookie revealed to me...

I can't outwit myself, either.

No matter what persona I project or how I wrestle parts of myself back in fear that people will be uncomfortable with me at "full strength," or perhaps they'll realize just what a doofus and fraud I really am, the "real me" is still there. Who I am lurks just below the surface clambering to be seen and heard in more than just regulated, censored cameo appearances... because that is the person God created me to be.

I can't change it any more than I can change the color of my eyes or the length of my legs.

I don't need to fear negative reactions because I say what I really feel. Someone just might be thinking the exact same thing. And if they don't agree, they are certainly entitled to feel differently. It doesn't mean I'm stupid, or wrong, or bad. We simply don't agree. It's not a crime or a sin to disagree.

The greatest disservice I can do those around me, especially those I love, is to withhold my honesty in a vain attempt to "protect" them somehow and display only what I think others deserve, or expect, or can handle from me. That's not to say that I need to be brutal or cruel. Just real. To say the truth and then work through their response with love and respect. That is the only way to have a firm footing.

To build a relationship while being who I *think* I'm supposed to be and expressing only what I imagine my loved ones want to hear is to live on a constantly eroding slope that will inevitably continue to fail and lack true stability until the bedrock is finally exposed.

What greater expression of Love for my family and friends could I offer than to allow the person God made me to be finally beam at full candle-power in stead of a feeble attempt at acceptable fashioned by my own floundering, myopic humanness? To quote Ani DiFranco, "I'm 32 Flavors and then some..." My family deserves them all... not just the ones I *think* they like.

How will they know they like pistachio unless I give them a chance to try it?

Mint Chocolate Chip?

Licorice, anyone?

What better gift and show of respect for my Creator than to quit camouflaging His design?

I'm done being afraid of who I am.

I'm pretty much done with fear in general. Fear is the opposite of Love.

I'm ready to Live Out Loud.

I'm ready to break free of self-imposed twilight.

At last, I am ready to shine... and maybe even sing.


Nothing like a little Pad Ginger with a good friend for lunch and a smack upside the head from God for dessert, eh?

What the Hail!

Torrential Spring hail storm + trampoline = crazy frigid fun!

The deluge was accompanied by booming thunder and wicked-close lightening that had us all stupefied for about thirty minutes.

Take one very impressive display by the Big Guy, add some Chinese takeout and you've got a great Spring Break capper.

Have a great week getting back into "The Routine," Y'all!

A Book of Love

When my Granddad passed away 12 years ago, Grannee was more than devastated.

These two were the world's greatest lovers and had been honeymooning for more than 64 years. Suddenly, he was gone. Literally, her OTHER HALF was ripped from her and she felt helpless, hopeless and beyond alone.

She immediately moved in with my mom and step-dad where she was extremely well cared for, but nothing, of course, could take the place of her Dear George. Who could even try?

She even refused to sleep in a full sized bed because it felt too big without him spooned up behind her.

Now, Grannee and I have always had a very special and unique relationship that I cherish to this day. I am her namesake. Her "Dolly," as she used to call me. Gran and I related on a level that I can't explain and won't dare to try. When she lost her Love, all I wanted was to make the pain and loneliness stop, but realistically, who could? All I could do was remind her how much I loved her and all she was to me. She was such a profound influence on my life but I couldn't always be there at her side to remind her. I had a life of my own to attend to and knew that as time passed, it would get harder and harder for her to remember all the things I told her in our precious stolen moments together so... I decided to write her a book. A book of love that she could turn to whenever she needed to remember.

Grannee passed away on April 21st of 2006; just two weeks shy of the 10 year anniversary of when Granddad left us. Ten years without the love of her life she had spent over half a century doing life with. Wow. I can't even begin to imagine how hard that was for her.

At her memorial service, the minister read passages from my book as examples of the effect she had on me and every other person with whom she ever came in contact. (Not to mention what being around them as a couple would do to people! They were absolutely amazing... anyway) He approached me after the service and said I should publish the book. That it would mean a lot to people... at the very least, for my family.

It struck me as rather funny since it is such an intensely personal document. Who else would care about my relationship with Gran?

Well, I never got it "published" to print, but after nearly two years of sitting on it, I decided that maybe here was a good place to put it out to the world.

It's long. 37 pages even, so be forewarned. If you choose to tackle this undertaking, you will be peering into some of the most intimate thoughts and feelings I have shared with one of the single most important people to my very existence. But it is the product of so much unconditional love and encouragement that it doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all she was to and did for me and who I have become... and continue to become.

So, with that said, I present for your perusal, "A Book Of Love."

Click on each image to see it at full, actually readable, size.

A Sophisticated Discussion on Art

Thank you to *richiedesign* for posting this most informative and inspiring discussion on the Nature of Art.

Kudos to Aardman Studios for producing it. Brilliant! Best thing they've offered us since Wallace and Gromit.

Enjoy.





Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to don a beret, squint with intensity while holding a cigarette that will never touch my lips and make coffee rings on the surface of my very cluttered desk.

I shall call my masterpiece: Fuel for the Frustration

Adieu, Dahhhhlings...

Random Tidbits

Not that I need someone to get sick to make soup, but it is somehow more rewarding when a little girl with a sore throat requests it specifically. Poor Anna. Then, her dad was so insistent that said soup should be accompanied by warm, homemade bread he volunteered to help me make it all... DEAL! (You will NEVER catch me refusing help in the kitchen.)

Thanks to the culinary support, we were able to crank out some beautiful chicken soup which was fortified with the mashed potatoes and gravy from the previous night's roast chicken dinner. The gravy makes it sooooooo rich. YUM!!!

Also, I managed to make bread that didn't break my KitchenAid. So there's that. I didn't let it bake quite long enough though (it SMELLED done) so it's on the doughy side, but hey, the fam' loved it. Besides, what kid doesn't love doughy bread... look at Wonderbread's squeeze-it-and-it reverts-back-into-a-ball-of-dough popularity!

We even accomplished all this wonderfulness in record time... From cold, empty pots at 2:45 to hot soup-and-bready goodness at 6:30. Woo Hoo!


On a completely unrelated note... I also want to give a quick shout out to Bethany, Anna and Grace's beloved former piano teacher who came out from Utah for her baby shower last weekend. It was such a joy to spend time with her. Though certainly not the most satisfying visit, since we had to share her with, what, 25 or so other gals who were also excited to see her pregnant self, it is always glorious just to bask in her sweetness and light... even from across a crowded room.

Her tiny tummy belies the fact that her darling bundle is due at the end of next month and all moms-to-be should exude such grace and peace as she.

Bethany, I miss you so much and will be praying hard that Seth lands one of those Portland positions so we can get you back in the neighborhood. It would be so lovely to have time together just to visit and enjoy each other's company without you rushing off to your next student.

I can't wait to meet Baby Tippin whenever he or she arrives! (Go May 1!) I know you and Seth will be outstanding parents.

Peace, Y'all.