2. I ate one of the best Massaman curries of my entire life today. I turned our kitchen over to our friend Ethan, who was here making paper. Thanks to C Jane, I was already primed for curry this week, and it was total bliss. Ethan done good. Yum-oh-yum.
I learned something about Massaman curry, other than Ethan's great recipe. I read that this beloved Thai dish was originally Muslim. In fact, the word Massaman is a variation of Musulman, which was the older form of the word Muslim. Interesting, huh? Muslim curry. I'm going to work it into our regular meal rotation. (That sounds so organized. What a joke. I don't have a regular meal rotation. But I will start one now, with Muslim curry.)
3. I decided to make a housing helper for the birds who want to nest in my 'hood. I read online recently about how you can make a stash of building materials available for your feathered friends with such items as small strips of fabric scraps, bits of yarn and string, shredded paper, cotton batting, wool roving, twigs, leaves, grass clippings, feathers, snakeskins, cobwebs, broom straws, and . . . HAIR. Yes, I have found a cause that speaks to me. I can't tell you how it pleases me and helps me feel like I'm somehow cheating entropy to use my rapidly falling locks to plump up a nest or two and comfort a homely hatching of bird babies. I cleaned out my brush tonight and stuffed the bounty into a wide-mouthed mason jar for safekeeping till I get some other odds and ends collected and readied. In the morning, after my shower, it won't hurt my feelings nearly so much to have to retrieve so many stricken strands from the drain if they'll go to support a tiny family and not just end up in the garbage. I've got plenty of raw materials to share. Now I just need to figure out what my birdy building supply store will look like.
4. What would YOU put on the Queen's iPod?
5. One of these days I will plan a hair party. You will all be invited. Wigs will be mandatory. Mustaches, real or fake, will be welcome. Maybe we'll even have a sugaring station. Ow!
6. Last night I took some personal prayer time and got frustrated listening to myself struggle away from a well-worn groove: "Please help me __________." It's not that I don't need or want God's help; sometimes I just get sick of hearing myself ask and ask and ask. To be fair to myself, I do more than ask for help, but it does seem that all my inner roads lately lead to that petition. I begin to feel a little puny. Setting aside the paradox of being nothing and everything, I think I should be feeling a little more personal power than I've been expressing to God lately. Do you get what I mean? You might have been amused to hear me trying to ask for help with not asking for so much help. Gack!
I turned the words—please and help—over and over in my head as I went asleep, and just like what used to happen when I was in school, the sleeping on it helped me wake up this morning with a clearer comprehension. The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was that the words I'd been fretting over had changed their meaning in the night, slipped into something more comfortably assertive and full of will. Please and help had surrendered their attitude of vague desperation and had gained a little muscle. Please God, they said to me. Help your own situation. Help others. Help yourself to blessings; they're all around you, there for the taking. It didn't feel at all like an "And quit bugging me!" type of answer. On the contrary, there was no rebuke anywhere in it, just a lot of understanding, and what felt like an implied partnership. Being reminded of personal powers can be such a calming experience. I guess it could be scary too, if you looked at it in a different way, but I'd much rather enjoy taking responsibility.
I worked all day today, physical work, which I haven't felt well enough to do in a while. It felt so good. When I took more time to pray after this morning's epiphany, I could almost hear God laughing at me when the words "Please help" still came out, despite my best intentions. Of course he will help me. He's even pleased to, especially when I'm heavily involved in the process and don't leave my own work half-done.
7. My blog seems to get more and more random.
8. Is it a bad idea to eat Muslim curry for a midnight snack?