Potato Pie Philosophy

Nov 1, 2011 by

“What a good mom am I!” read my facebook status as I, nearly bursting from the secret of it all, covertly prepared my son’s favorite – sweet potato pie – for he and his wife to enjoy during their brief, two-day visit to Seattle. The day before, I ran to the market to get all of the ingredients I’d need to cook up happy yesterdays and blissful memories of days gone by when the smell of sugar, butter, cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg, evaporated milk, eggs, and sweet potato wafted through through my kitchen, tempted Ryan’s stomach and filled his heart with oven-baked evidence of how well he was loved by his flour covered momma. Without exception, whenever I bake sweet potato pies, it’s in pairs with one designated just for Ryan in a sort of...

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Personal Earthquakes

Oct 26, 2011 by

Personal earthquakes. I’ve had a series of them lately. Some have been small tremors, like the smattering of persistent and color resistant gray hair, straight gray hair, peppered within the thick mass of my curly, bleached light brown ones. Others, dare I say more even, have been the leveling kind, like the doubts that have dogged my lifelong faith causing me to retreat from my faith-based job and communities; my children finding future away from our home; and – speaking of home – leaving ours of 24 years in Colorado to go and find a new one in the sometimes sunshine all of the time fickle skies of Seattle, Washington. Yeah. I’m talking major, 9.5 on the Richter Scale personal earthquakes that have left me sifting through the rubble of my life and trying...

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This Teaching Moment Is Presented By . . ....

Oct 10, 2011 by

“Tough week for me. 3 presentations = no sleep, much stress. I hate presentations. Got through it though. Very comfortable in many other settings (negotiations, etc). But I realized something. I need to do more presentations!” Marc Walters Around three weeks ago, my husband experienced a malevolent possession of sorts. For nearly a week, instead of his typically calm, cool, and collected self, he was agitated, insecure, and preoccupied to the point of sleeplessness. Given the lack of other distractions in our home, like say . . . children, I was very much caught in the web of madness woven by this stranger who called himself my husband. Marc’s agitation became mine. His insecurity called to mine. His nights spent in worry and not sleep left me also surfing the net at ungodly hours...

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Slight Adjustments

Sep 18, 2011 by

Today is the second day that in doing ordinary movements, like unloading the dishwasher, my muscles ache in protest as they decide if they will cooperate with me in placing the coffee mugs on the shelf above. They complain even louder walking steps or washing hair. The rebellion happening within my body is the result of practicing yoga two days ago after a too-many-days to count hiatus from the meditation that I love so much. Though I’m not a beginner, I took the beginner’s class thinking I’d ease my way back, like dipping a toe into a pool rather than taking the head-first plunge. In a class of about 12, I found my way in the back of the studio, away from the instructor, and planned to blend in, feel my way back to...

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