O, tidings oven comfort and joy

Our oven quit just in time for the holidays, refusing to heat above 95 degrees. I spent December experimenting with crock pot and stovetop baking. Experienced a couple of epic fails, but I did manage to make some tasty tin can yeast loaves; a right appetizing little birthday cake for my sister-in-law, Amy; and what will henceforth and forever be one of our house specials: a terrific and versatile white wheat stovetop bread that can be savory or sweet or stuffed. I'm pretty proud of my first-world survival skills. I did no Christmas baking this year, but on the upside, that did simplify my life.

Still. When a repairman came to my house a couple days ago and fixed the oven, it didn't take me long to warm up to it again (har har). Two mornings in a row now we've had celebratory Swedes for breakfast, another of our favorites. (Scroll down for my recipe.)

Swedes: Make this.

Smother like this.

Experience joy and renewal.

Now you're ready to smile at the world.

Do you think the old lady readers make me look like a librarian?

Also. Here is proof that the age of miracles has not passed. Behold, the stovetop birthday cake (but please ignore the DIY ghetto cake stand):

Looks good enough to eat.

Hold me candle, tiny dancer.

GEO'S SWEDES (SWEDISH OVEN PANCAKES)

This thick, custardy “pancake” is my favorite breakfast to make for my family or when company comes over. It dresses up easily and becomes an elegant meal. People often ask how complicated it is to make and are always surprised to learn that the process is almost entirely hands-off. The magic happens in the oven. Though I typically tweak it, the recipe I generally use as a guide originated with Kim Carlson from the Culinate Kitchen collection online.

2-3 Tbsps butter (when counting calories it also works to just use cooking spray in the pan)
2 cups flour (I like it best with 100% whole white wheat, or ½ whole wheat and ½ unbleached)
¼ cup sugar (brown is also lovely)
1 tsp salt
6 large eggs
4 cups milk (I typically use rice milk, but any kind will do, and of any fat content)
fresh lemon juice
your choice of toppings: brown sugar, raw sugar agave nectar, pure maple syrup, honey, Nutella, berries or other fruits, jam, etc. (a favorite combination at our house is lemon juice, brown sugar, and blueberries or homemade jam)

Place butter in a 10” ovenproof frying pan, preferably cast iron, or coat it lightly with cooking spray, and place pan into oven. Preheat oven and pan to 375 F. Combine remaining ingredients in a deep mixing bowl and blend well with an electric beater or a whisk. When oven has reached 375 F, remove hot pan and pour in batter. Carefully return pan to the oven (it will be full) and bake for 50 minutes. Check to see whether the center is set. If not, continue to bake, checking every 5 minutes. When the pancake is set in the center, remove from the oven and let rest 5 minutes. Serve warm, and any other toppings you desire. NOTE: Low-fat milk is plenty rich for this recipe.

P.S. Happy birthday, Anneliese! I wish we lived close enough for me to make you a weird cake too. xo

Sometimes Monday evening looks like this

Family Home Evening with Rob & Georgia

Peasant picnic on the living room floor
• Red lentil dhal soused with tender corn and fresh cilantro
• Whole wheat pitas w/spreads
• Crunchy Fuji apples
• All-u-can-drink tap water
• After this we were too full for the ginger-pumpkin pie, phoo.

Opening hymn: #96, "Dearest Children, God Is Near You"
• Piano accompaniment was sight-read and played badly by Georgia.
• Verse 1 was sung nearly twice through by Rob before he skipped on to verse 3.

Opening prayer

Intro

• "As he thinketh in his heart, so is he." (Proverbs 23:7)

• "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." (2 Timothy 1:7)

• Thinking = being. How can we change negative, unhealthy patterns of thinking and become more discerning? 

Scripture

• Explore the scriptures for a few ideas on the subject of discernment, thinking well, good judgement, perception, etc. and share reflections. (Our quick picks: Romans 8:26-28; 3 Nephi 22:11, 12; 2 Nephi 21:1-3; Ether 4:12; Doctrine & Covenants 88:67, 68.)

Discussion

• Review the basics of reframing, cognitive distortions, negative and positive explanatory styles. 

• Choose a shared concern and brainstorm ways and times when this concern can actually be a good thing. (Our pick: money worries. We came up with almost a full page of positives available through this challenge, and could have named more.)

Fun

• Explain a new game: "Good, Bad, Interesting." To demonstrate how it works, watch Demetri Martin comedy videos on Attention and Control.

• Go for a late walk while playing "Good, Bad, Interesting." (Our plan was aborted, due to Crazy Monday Exhaustion.)

Closing hymn: #95, "Now Thank We All Our God"

• One-handed piano accompaniment played admirably by Georgia.
• Both verses were sung without mishap by Rob.

Closing prayer

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Good, Bad, Interesting"

Rules: 

1. A player introduces a topic.

2. Another player repeats that topic and presents three scenarios which fulfill the topic—one good, one bad, and one interesting.

3. That player then introduces a new topic for the next player to fulfill. 

4. Please keep it family-friendly, folks.

5. Repeat 1-4.

Want to play?

Here's a topic to start: CLIMBING THROUGH A WINDOW.

Caves aren't everything

I didn't sleep much last night, and from morning till night I've had a splitting headache which did its best to become a sick migraine in the late afternoon. I had a ton of stuff to get done today, most of it sit-down work, and most of it Relief Society business that I just couldn't feel good about putting off. I wanted to crawl into a dark quiet cave and wait for sleep to ambush me, but it just wasn't a realistic option. I chucked from the to-do list many details that didn't truly matter, but there were still so many people deals left to help with or respond to, and more came rolling in throughout the day. It was one of those days that kinda make you wonder what is going on, like maybe somebody planted a big Grand Opening sign in your lawn.

It was a good day in one very big way—people are important to me and I appreciate the opportunities to interact with them. But, yikes! It's hard to think and talk and write and troubleshoot when your head is throbbing.

I bring this up because there were some moments of sweet compensation today, tender mercies. Our breakfast smoothie was terrific today. Go ahead, laugh, but I'm grateful for it. Look, on a day like this, the last thing in the world I want to greet me is a tall glass of swamp nog. (I had a bad run for a couple days there, failed experiments. Not all green smoothies are created equal.) I was too sick midday to go out for a scheduled lunch with a girlfriend, but before the lunch hour was over, a different friend showed up hungry, treated Rob to El Salvadorean food, and brought some home for me too. Then! When I was hitting the lowest point of the day, another friend called and invited us out for supper. I absolutely could not accept, so she brought food over and ate with us. I noticed she even kept her voice down so as not to pain my head. That takes concentration for her, because she's got a big musical theater voice.

Food doesn't usually appear at my doorstep. It was such a welcome blessing that it showed up today, and from such gracious friends. Thank you.

Other tender mercy: First thing this morning one of my duties was to interview a dear woman in our church congregation and help her prepare a welfare order for her family. I was so ill that I texted her and asked if I could visit with her by phone rather than have to dress and go to her house. It hurt to move. She was very kind and came to me instead and didn't care that I stayed in my robe (hey, at least it's pretty and red). We had a good visit, and when we were through with our business she gave me a sweet gift: a relaxing head massage which really did help for almost half an hour.

Another one, which ties back into the first: Getting to work with women who are willing to give needed help, who network, who care, who make smart plans and follow through, who create good things, who aren't afraid of work or commitment, who express gratitude, who can laugh at themselves, who are willing to serve others without passing judgement, and who talk it out appropriately and are able to move forward rather than bog down in the muck when a serious offense has been given. I saw some of all of that today. Mercies. Beautiful ones.

Oh, also: We got to watch three doves walk around in our big plum tree this morning, just like it was a network of sidewalks.

And: My book on companion gardening arrived.

And: Firming up plans with great friends.

And: A concerned husband who keeps urging me to drink more water.

And: Oh, those crazy wonderful flowers in the dining room.

And: I'm too tired to keep counting them up.

Now I will go to my cave and hope for the best. But wait, I had that already today.

Gastronomic illumination

What a nice autumn rain fell today, but oh, the greyness got to me after a few hours. When I'm really hungry for light, bright strong flavors can sometimes take the edge off. Today I needed garlic, and plenty of it. Those of you who came within six feet of me after lunch can verify that I got my fill. Lemon. Vinegar. Garden tomatoes. Cumin—oh, cumin! You were my salvation! On my fight-the-gloom menu this afternoon:

Moroccan Batter Bread
Black Bean Hummus
Freshly roasted tomatoes
Shredded green cabbage and jicama, tossed with rice vinegar, honey, and olive oil
& what might be the last of the season's Charentais melon

These made the day feel not so dreary. Want to give my menu a try and see what it can do for you? Here are my two main recipes:

Moroccan Batter Bread

1/3 cup olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
3 cups whole wheat flour
2 tablespoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 1/2 teaspoons paprika
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
3 eggs, beaten
1 tablespoon honey
1 spilling over cup rice milk
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

Preheat oven to 350F.
Spray a 11-inch loaf pan with cooking spray. Line bottom with parchment or waxed paper.
Warm the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion and sauté till soft. Remove from heat and allow to cool a bit.
Mix eggs with honey.
In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, cumin, paprika, and cayenne. Make a well in the center and pour in the oil and onions, eggs and honey, milk, and parsley. Stir until just combined.
Pour batter into the pan. Bake in center of the oven for 60-70 minutes, or until a toothpick tester comes out clean.
Cool bread in pan on a wire rack 15 minutes. Remove bread from pan, peel off paper, and cool completely on rack before slicing.

*******

Black Bean Hummus

2 cups cooked black beans
2 cloves garlic, pressed
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons tahini
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon ground cumin
a shake of crushed red pepper flakes
extra-virgin olive oil
a shake of cayenne (optional)

In a food processor, combine beans, pressed garlic, lemon juice, tahini, salt, cumin, and red pepper flakes and process until desired smoothness, scraping down sides occasionally.
Serve in a bowl and garnish with a drizzle of olive oil and a shake of cayenne, if desired.

Bon appétit!

All things being equal

Equinox, a moment of balance. It came and went this morning at 9:03 a.m., while I was doing my morning study and meditating on personal liberty. Apropos.

The spirit of balance lingered today. I celebrated the even divide between dark and light by driving south with family for our annual grape-picking excursion at the home of some friends. Delicious green Himrods, those Utah beauties—oh! Soon my kitchen will be filled with the aroma of steaming grapes, and then we'll have the first provident bottles of 2011 ready to line the shelves of our pantry. I love the harvest season. And it's especially nice to begin refilling the coffers on a day of celestial balance.

On the drive down to Salem, I sat in the middle row of seats in my sister-in-law's van, next to my darling nephew, 3yo Finn. He announced to me happily, out of the blue, "Ga-ga, I KNOW you're gonna have a baby!" It seemed like all the grownups in the vehicle stopped breathing for a couple seconds, but maybe that was just me. I'm pretty sure this wasn't something Finn had heard from his parents, but I could be wrong about that too. Wherever it came from, I just laughed and accepted it. Why not? Who would know better than Finn? And who am I to doubt such an intelligent fellow? He made his powerful assertion again a little later: "Ga-ga, I KNOW you're gonna have a baby!" And then went on to describe to me how much he loves babies and likes to hold them, and I decided I would be very glad for him to hold mine once I have her... or find her... or him... or them... or... however this thing's going to happen. But I have it on good authority now; I'm gonna get one. Finn says.

Last year when we went grape-picking I was the beneficiary of another magical sentence, shared with me in a whisper while little arms were wrapped around my neck, a secret from my niece, Scout. Since it was a secret I won't share it, but it was a lovely shaft of light that came in through my ear and went straight into my heart to burn there all these months. I appreciate the tiny shiny voices of these people I love so much. I treasure their gifts and don't minimize them the least bit.

After today I'll be in my last week of my month-long garden detox diet. I took a Mason jar full of green smoothie with me grape-picking: it was lunch, if you use your imagination. There was enough that I gave everybody who was brave enough to try it a taste. Finn wanted a drink of it, so I helped him tip up the heavy jar and when it came down, he was wearing a Kermit green moustache. Ha! After his second swig, his moustache had grown into a perfect half-circle of swamp nog, plus a bright green unibrow from pressing the messy jar against his face. Pretty hilarious. I grabbed my camera but before I could shoot he'd sleeved his cheeks and was focused on the next part of lunch. (That green unibrow dried in place though, I'm tickled to report.) Scout saw me trying for a Kodak moment, so she obliged by taking her own big drink of my stuff and modeling the latest in lip fashion:

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." —Leonardo da Vinci

To give unto them beauty for ashes

I'm out to banish an old demon. I am calling for a new holiday, and invite you to celebrate it with me. The third Tuesday of November is to be known henceforth as Love Your Life Day. Feel free to interpret that however you wish, but I do hope you will find something to do that brings you real joy, something that makes you glad you're a resident of this planet, something that invigorates your spirit and helps you want to go on, and on, and on. I hope you spend the whole day in beautiful thoughts and choices that allow you to feel real and strong and clean and vibrant. Take good care of yourself. Nurture your soul. Eat something wonderful. Laugh for a good reason, and also for no good reason. Spend some time under the sky. Dance. Move. This is starting to sound like some cheesy motivational quote already, and I haven't even warmed up. Never mind—you can figure it out on your own without my suggestions. Just love your live. And if you feel like sharing later, tell me how you celebrated.

Happy Love Your Life Day.

In the key of see

Several entertainments I enjoyed after a difficult day of brain therapy:

• I heard the last snatch of an incredible traditional gospel tune that I MUST learn to play (heard it on KBYU-FM).

• I spotted a group of about eight teens on the walking path that parallels a main drag—they were waving at cars like aliens trying desperately to make contact. No one on that trafficky road seemed interested, so I honk-honked and flapped my arm. The bunch came alive, all grins and arms. A girl the shape and color of a prize-winning pumpkin completely defied the pull of both gravity and good taste as she lea-ea-eaped into the air in excruciatingly adolescent nerd joy, screamed, and did a few juicy rounds of "YESSSSS!" arms. Beautiful!

• I noticed a car parked in front of a large apartment complex, next to a very tall, very naked tree. The car was wearing a swath of leaves at least six inches deep from front to back, but there was not one leaf anywhere on the ground around it. Or anywhere else in the parking lot. Or on any other car. The tree leaned over it slightly, like it was inspecting its very funny practical joke. I suspect tomfoolery, but I blame one of the kids in the complex, not that wintry tree.

• While waiting to turn right at a busy intersection I suddenly saw all these microcosms whizz past me—people having quiet moments alone or with others, arguments, laughter, distraction, even a non-traffic-friendly romantic encounter—half a hundred little worlds being hauled around, whipping through the air on four wheels each, a great rush of situations. Everyone in a private universe.

• A fresh headful of songs written and performed by friends. The Great Salt Lake Guitar Company is a super little venue for an intimate concert. Congratulations to Brian and Steve and . . . what was the opening band's name? . . . Raccoon Colons? Anyway, thanks for the fun evening. You made me want to strum my guitar and get better acquainted with my accordion. And your P712 song made me hungry.

Lovely, funny life.

Getting the equinoctial point

Happy first day of spring!

Did you know? The word equinox comes from Old French equinoxe (I wish we hadn't lost the e; I think the word's much more charming with it) or Latin aequinoctium, meaning "equal" + "night." Tonight at 11:47 p.m. the sun will reach the celestial equator. I wish I could be standing on that very point just before midnight and feeling the sun kiss my cheek as it crosses. This day represents like no other the longing I feel for light to tip the balance and overpower the darkness. Just think. There will be a mere moment of equilibrium tonight; the opposing sides, for people in both hemispheres, will be matched in strength, and then, for those of us living in the north, the light will take charge. The sun will treat us to a linger-longer each day till summer's through. I find it so heartening. Autumn's equinox is beautiful too in its way, but the older I get the more I understand that more light is my fondest pursuit.

True to form, this day's been one of opposing forces, but I'm not complaining. Without some darkness to deal with, I'd take the sunshine for granted.

How are you welcoming back the sun today? Have you been successful at balancing your dark with light? Here's how I've managed so far:

Dark: I went in for my monthly voodoo doll therapy.


(This is not me. And this is not where my needles were poked. But I'm pretty sure I made this face.)

Light: A little voice whispered to me that the quiet young man playing computer games while waiting next to me in the doctor's office (we both showed up at 11:00 and waited till 12:30) really wished I would talk to him. I did and he completely lit up. I don't know why, but I tuned in to that kid immediately, almost like somebody had slipped me his personal file before we visited. It was a strange and sweet experience. I wonder, Was that important?

Dark: I added another mysterious dermatological oddity to my healthcare resumé today: Periorificial Dermatitis.



Light: It's not a skin cancer!

Dark: I was still too sick to do serious garden planning and seed shopping like I'd hoped today.

Light: I found two pretty springtimey perennials for cheap, one for outside—



and one for inside—



Dark: I came home worn out and achy.

Light: Rob picked out a sweet song to play for me, and suddenly I felt like dancing.

Catching up on Project 365: March 6

We live on a relatively quiet street, nobody's regular route except for the houseful of little boys around the corner; they keep the pavement hot with all manner of self-propelled wheeled contraptions. Other than that? Mainly neighbors driving to and from work.

This morning while Rob and I were eating breakfast, something unexpected drove past our house. "Look! A bus!" Rob said with surprise. I looked out the window in time to see its back end heading west. Hmph. That's odd. What's a tour bus doing on our street?

We went back to our breakfast, but a few minutes later, the bus drove past our house again. We both jumped up for a better look at it. Gray Lines of Seattle. "Maybe John S. is here for a visit," Rob laughed. I wish. (John? Are you reading this?)

We let our food get cold. Is the bus coming back? We watched out the east window and in a few minutes, here it came again. "Maybe it's a sign," I said. "Maybe we should run outside and stick out our thumbs." As yearning thoughts for the Pacific NW hung in the air, the bus stopped, right in front of our house. "They're waiting for us!" I exclaimed.

We stared as the driver got out of his seat and began to back down the steps, but he didn't open the door. He perched and waited as another person took his place behind the wheel, then the first driver stepped up into the bus again, and off they went toward the west.

"Do you think they're coming back?"

Breakfast was pretty much over by then. We were too enthralled to finish eating. I finally thought to grab my camera, but wasn't dressed for outside yet, so all I could do was stand somewhat scandalously on my glassed-in front porch and shoot a few quick shots through the window and leaning out the storm door as our bus drove past for a fourth time.

Hoping for better shots, I dashed in and pulled on some workout pants and a fleece and ran outside, Nikon poised. The bus never came back. The visitation from Seattle was over.

What does it mean?

I guess it means we are very easily entertained, and we both want to spend time again in Washington and Oregon . . . or anywhere.

And it means, John S., that you really should get off the bus next time and be our guest for a while.

This household needs some excitement.



For those of you who might be wondering if we went back to feast on Torment after our first failed attempt, I can assure you that yes, yes, we did.

Rob and I had a reunion to go to in the evening, but no dinner was going to be provided, so we left home with what we thought was just enough time to get in and out of Torment before joining our old neighborhood friends. As we neared the taqueria, I asked Rob, "Hey, what if they aren't open . . . again?" We laughed about it, and joked about how that really would be a great torment, to put the word out over and over that a restaurant was opening, and then never let anyone in. Ha ha. So we pulled up to the front door, where two guys were working—one upgrading the old sign with bright bright yellow paint, and the other, the fellow we met on March Forth, still fussing with the front door. They turned around to look at us, each grinning with more glowing teeth than the Cheshire Cat, and said in unison, "To-morrow." We drove away hungry, and laughing at how this place was really living up to its name. Then I had Rob circle around so I could snap a shot.

Oh, yes, hermanos, we'll be back. You can torture us all you want. You can't keep a coupla good gringos down.

Cabin feverish

Rob took pity on me Saturday. "You must be tired of being in this house, sick," he said. "Let's go to the lake so you can get out and at least see something."

It was a gorgeous day. It wasn't possible to say no, even feeling so crummy, so we went. Rob drove out along the bumpy the airport road and parked me in the sun, then he and the dog went for a walk around the lake. Getting out the front door used up my little store of energy, so even though I wanted to go with them I stayed in the car with the windows rolled down and did this:




and looked at this:



(Some shot, huh? I pointed my laptop out the window to get it. Who needs focus or framing?)

I could have soaked all the sunshine clean out of the sky and been very, very happy.

Marching forth

It's finally here—my heart's New Year. March Forth! I love this day. And boy, what a bright, warm, beautiful one it is. Thanks to the person who ordered it.

Hold on, I'm the person who ordered it. Thanks, Geo! (Thanks, Nature. Thanks, God.)

So, what are you doing to celebrate and march forth today?

There are a few dear ones in my life who have fallen dangerously ill, strangely all in a batch. For that reason, and for reasons of my own, with more concentration than ever I'm dedicating this March Forth to preservation, to joy, and to healing. I had originally planned to spend the day on the phone, but that no longer feels like the right agenda. I want to pack March Forth full of little quiet things, nurturing and encouraging things. I've not been too steady lately, so today I want to work on getting my footing because it's no good going off on a big march when you're off-balance.

It's been a good day to this point. I got up earlier than usual after a non-insomniac trip to Slumberland. I prayed, made the bed, then sat with my laptop on my two fat layers of ducky down comforters and read good news from one of those dear ones I mentioned above. His cancer is treatable, and there's hope, and chemo begins for him on Tuesday. Relative relief—if that's not a fine way to start March Forth, I don't know what is. I wish for similar good news from other dear ones . . . . My friend sent me a beautiful poem along with his news, and I knew right away that one of the things I'd do today was work on memorizing a poem or two, starting with the sweet one that just arrived:

The Silken Tent
by Robert Frost

She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightlest bondage made aware.

Haven't you heard that memorizing and reciting poetry preserves the health of your mind? It also helps you learn and activate/integrate parts of your brain, just like singing or playing a musical instrument. Well, it sounds like a perfect project to begin today: turning myself into a walking collection of poems.

The other long-term task I want to begin today is Project 365. I started taking daily photos a couple years ago, but didn't keep up with it. Maybe this time I'll make it a full year, at least. Care to join me? Sounds interesting, don't you think?

What other activities will be part of the celebration today? So many options. The list of possibilities so far includes, but is surely not limited to:

• going for a walk in the sun
• taking a therapeutic deep tub study-soak, with music and candles
• making a dress (oh, you should see the fabric I got)
• finishing the novel I'm reading
• doing another Kundalini Yoga session (already did a short one this morning, and it felt great)
• attempting some creative writing
• thumbing through library cookbooks and planning a week's worth of menus from interesting new recipes
• painting a wall
• shopping for a yogurt maker
• buying some clay and sculpting a little guy, for fun

One thing which is firmly on the agenda is to go and try out a "new" Mexican restaurant in town, a place that recently changed hands. The new management somehow got my email address and sent me this humble invitation:

Hello:

My name is Alejandro and I want to invite you to LA TORMENTA RESTAURANT, in down town Provo. Now I am administrating the store and we are reopening on Wednesday 4th. of this month. We are working hard to make the restaurant a better place, with good quality of food and low prices.

Sincerely,

Alejandro Puye

How am I supposed to say no to that? You think for a minute I could resist eating at a place called Torment on March Forth? Why, it'll be like thumbing my nose at whatever nasty forces would bring me down. "See? I laugh in the face of danger! Ha ha! I eat torment for lunch! Get out of my way, La Gringa is marching forth!" And anyway, it's opening on my holiday; it's sure to be successful, and I'm sure to survive the ordeal. Rob and I thought we'd try it out a while back when it was still Taqueria La Tormenta, but when we got to the front door the closed sign was up, and a peek through the window scared us off. Now that it's "a better place" maybe it will be safe for us to go inside and order. My expectations are low, so it's likely not to disappoint. I'll have a roll of Tums handy, just in case.

Stay tuned for a March Forth update later on, and my first photo for Project 365.

Now get out there and do some marching forth yourself. Hup! Hup! Hup! Hup!

Something fragrant, something sweet

I've hinted to a few people that I named a new holiday this week. (Yes, I'm serious. I do things like that occasionally, about once a decade.) I'm finally ready to announce it, and I hope you'll all want to join me and the friend who was my inspiration in our celebrations on . . . (drumroll, please) . . .

JUNE ROSES DAY
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2008

!!!

I set up a little page for June Roses Day over at Wordpress, if you'd like a few more details. (June Roses was already taken at Blogger.) No, you don't have to have a Wordpress account to leave a comment, so come on over. Here's another link you can visit too, if you want to read part of the exchange that put this particular bee in my bonnet.

Oh, do I have holiday plans!

Sam I am

"And the more she focused on it, the more she had."

In typical Nie fashion, the New York Times also chose to focus on beauty today. God bless them—and us too—with more of it! I hope Alex Williams' article will go far to bringing the Nie and Mr. Nielson story to more of at least two kinds of people: (1) those whose hearts are ready for an infusion of light, and (2) those whose pocketbooks are eager to open and help others.

What a positive, lovely write-up. And C Jane's quote at the end will stay with me. Truth is beautiful, don't you agree?

Today's guide to life's adventures

Failure to Yield—$82
Expired Driver's License—$40
American Fork City's Gratuity for having provided a place for a car wreck—$30

Still on the planet in one piece—PRICELESS