Getting out of the bubble

On Thursday, Freda went with Luci and me to a livestock show on the Southside to see Elena show her two lambs.  It was a beautiful dusty day and we were immersed in the sounds and smells of animals. 

"This is like another world," Freda said.  It was, we agreed, fun to get out of our bubble for a day. 

Elena stood in a row of kids waiting for their lambs to be judged.  Whether their lamb won or lost, the kids smiled and shook the judge's hand.  Our girl got 7th place on one of her lambs, which qualifies her for the auction in January.  

Listening to the judge explain his reasoning (broad here, narrow there, muscular or not so much) I was glad to be sitting beside Nathan who interpreted the qualities of lambdom.  Who knew there was so much to know about a lamb?  To the uninitiated, they all look pretty much the same. 

Here's Papi, Elena, Veronica, Will, Nathan, and me:

Papi, the Pritchetts, and me

Mateo and Elena 

  

Two Lambs Destined for an Auction in January
With Freda and me

Today I got out of the bubble again, driving solo to the rodeo, where Elena competed in barrel racing.  

Her ride was flawless, smooth and beautiful.  She's such a natural on horseback she makes it all look easy. 

These are 4H events.  I loved listening to the parents talking about all the events their kids were competing in.   

One man told us that his daughter competed in rodeo, livestock, cooking (pies) and chicken.  To make the winning chicken recipe, she grilled chicken in a Green Egg and won first place.  

Another family announced that their dog had just had puppies, and Elena is now hot on that trail!

"Please please, Daddy!  I will give you all my Christmas money if you'll let me have one!"

The positivity and freshness of these nature-loving kids was an inspiration.  The support of their parents was even more so.  What a beautiful bubble, kids loving their animals, their competitions, and each other. 

Here's Elena, kissing her horse Yancy, thanking him for a great rodeo ride: 

Christmas Week

The Hill Country Herb Farm in Fredricksburg--a place not to be missed whether you're a Texas dweller or a visitor.  Our meal there last night was super--as was the drive to Johnson City to see the blue and white lights....

While in Fredricksburg, we stopped in at the original James Avery store and I added a horse charm

to the horseshoe charm and bracelet she picked out Wednesday night when she visited. 

Wednesday night, we saw WONKA and she picked out her first charm bracelet for an early 12th birthday present, January 16th.

She gave me a private violin concert and loved the little red radio I gave her. 

Luci on the nature trails, half a block from our house. 

The Leary pictures from their week in Savannah and Tybee Island--

the four Learys and Jackson's girlfriend, Deanna

"Always carry a plant. Always be rooted to somewhere."

Pam forwarded this story by San Antonio's beloved poet, Naomi Shihab Nye, published in her book Honeybee.  I'd read it years ago, but never has it been more timely:

Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation From the Center for Action and Contemplation     Week Fifty: Moving Toward Greater Love   Becoming Agents of Change   Arab-American poet Naomi Shihab Nye recalls a transformative, unexpected occasion of generous acceptance: Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal … I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. “Help,” said the flight service person. “Talk to her.… We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.” I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke to her haltingly. “Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment.… I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just later, who is picking you up? Let’s call him.” We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother … and would ride next to her.… She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought … why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up about two hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie. And then the airline broke out free beverages … and two little girls from our flight ran around serving us all apple juice and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

Sawasdee Adventure

Sawasdee's is, in mine and Luci's opinions, the best Thai restaurant in town.  (They are closing and later moving in late January--so if you've not tried it, it's on Blanco Road near 410.)

First of all, the food is unfailingly delicious.  

Second, the owners welcome Luci.  Sometimes one of the sister-owners lays her apron on the floor for Luci to lie on.  "It's too cold on that floor for Luci Lou," they say.  Sometimes they bring her a little bowl of cooked chicken.  Always they tell her, "I love you, Luci Lou."  

As I was paying for my late lunch there today, a man asked me, "What kind of dog is that?"--and I told him a few of my guesses.  "I just had to ask you because I have her twin," he said. 

Josh drives all the way from Medina Lake at least once a month to eat at Sawasdee's.  He didn't bring Dolly (Luci's twin) along, but we had a long conversation about the two.  When he showed me her pictures, it was obvious that these two could have been litter mates--both have big fluffy tails, both have one ear up one ear down, and their faces are remarkably similar.  Dolly is a tad heavier than Luci, and her coloring is different, but their resemblance is striking.

When Luci jumped onto Josh's leg to stretch, Josh said, "Wow, Dolly does that all the time."

So he took a picture of Luci and showed me how Google can guess the breed of a dog from a picture.  For both dogs, the Greek breed KOKONI came up; second-runner up was DORGI--a combination of Corgi and Dachshund.  

We traded phone numbers.  Next time he comes in for his curry, we're going to share lunch--and dogs.  

The History of Jell-O

Today I did something I haven't done in decades. I made a congealed salad.  

I used a faded recipe from Carlene: peach Jell-O, buttermilk, a can of crushed pineapple, chopped pecans, and Cool Whip.  

I'm waiting patiently for it to jell.  But in the meanwhile, I'm licking the bowl.  It is so delicious! 

In the fifties, our mothers made congealed salads for luncheons and company fare.  Sometimes it was as simple as adding a can of fruit cocktail and some banana slices to the partially jelled mix. But for a company meal, it usually included a milky addition, like whipped cream, cream cheese, Cool Whip or buttermilk, along with fruit and nuts.  

It's more like a dessert than a salad really.  Since Will, Veronica and Elena are coming for dinner tomorrow night, I wanted to make it ahead of time, so I'll only need to make the chicken piccata and roasted vegetables tomorrow night. 

I wondered: how long has Jell-O been around? According to Wikipedia: 

In 1897, a man in Leroy, New York, mixed up some gelatin (patented in 1845) with oranges and lemons and berries, attempting to create a cough syrup.  I'm guessing it sat on a cold counter a while and jelled.  His wife loved the taste so much they decided to create a dessert and call it Jell-O. 

For a few years, it was marketed under the name Mr. Wiggly, but later it returned to the name we've known it by all these years. 

Growing up, I loved choosing my favorite flavors from the row of colorful boxes in the grocery store.  When we went to S&S Cafeteria in Macon, I'd chose orange, lemon or strawberry Jell-O as dessert.  

One year, the manufacturers tried coffee flavor, but it was discontinued within the year.  Same with white grapes--"the champagne of Jell-Os."  

Tomorrow night's dish is called "Buttermilk Salad"--though I had to substitute orange for peach, the flavor options fewer than what I remember.  

In her own word, Judy Dench

 "Don’t prioritise your looks my friend, as they won’t last the journey.

Your sense of humor though, will only get better with age.

Your intuition will grow and expand like a majestic cloak of wisdom.

Your ability to choose your battles, will be fine-tuned to perfection.

Your capacity for stillness, for living in the moment, will blossom.

Your desire to live each and every moment will transcend all other wants.

Your instinct for knowing what (and who) is worth your time, will grow and flourish like ivy on a castle wall.

Don’t prioritise your looks, my friend,

they will change forevermore, that pursuit is one of much sadness and disappointment.

Prioritise the uniqueness that make you you, and the invisible magnet that draws in other like-minded souls to dance in your orbit.

These are the things which will only get better."

Banned Books

The ABCs of Book Banning, now showing on Paramount Plus, was produced and directed by a woman in her eighties, Sheila Nevins, winner of  32 Prime Time Emmys.

In an interview with Scott Simon on NPR this morning, Nevins said something like this: 

 "If you want your children to grow up to  be just like you and you have a narrow world view, you may want to be sure your children have the exact same world view you do, not to encounter anything that challenges it...."

Nevens was inspired by a hundred-year-old woman who's fighting to stop book banning.  In a very clear and powerful voice, this centenarian activist tells about her late husband who died in WWII.  "He fought and died for the Constitution and freedom.  One of the freedoms he fought for is the freedom freedom to read what we want to read, including these books that are now being banned." 

Children featured in The ABCs of Book Banning  are incredibly articulate in expressing their anger and confusion,  that books they want to read are no longer available in their Florida school libraries--books like The Kite Runner, Diary of Anne Frank, The Handmaid's Tale, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Life of Rosa Parks.  (Over 2000 books have been banned in classrooms and libraries in Florida and other states.) 

Here's the interview: https://www.npr.org/programs/weekend-edition-saturday/

So what are some of  the narrow world views that many adults do not want to disrupt or challenge?

That all our ancestors were good and noble people?  Nothing evil was ever done by them? That they played no part in slavery? 

That our amiable ancestors sat down with the Native Americans for a friendly Thanksgiving feast?

That America is a Christian nation, and Christianity the only viable religion?

That reading about gay or trans people will influence their children to be gay or trans?

That the Holocaust never happened?

As a former English teacher, I remember so many lively conversations with high school and college students about books that are now on the banned books list. I am shocked and infuriated that current students will be denied these mind-expanding books. 

Gratitudes

A few days ago, Luci and I went on adventure--a walk through North Star Mall, from one end to the other and down the Penney's wing.  I was shopping for a shower curtain, but also testing the ability of my feet to do the whole mall. 

The first half was fun, seeing the stores and kiosks I hadn't seen since before COVID and knee surgery.  Build a Bear and the Lego store gave me a bit of a pang: those pre-Christmas and pre-birthday shopping  days are over, now the kids want money for dates and clothes and car parts. 

The second half was painful and I wondered if we'd make it all the way back from Dillards to Macy's.  Luci sensed the exact moment the fire in my feet flared and started licking them vigorously. Even though it doesn't help, I am grateful for a furry little healer who thinks it will.  She slowed her pace to match mine, glancing up every few steps as if to say, "Are you okay?" 

At that exact moment, Jocelyn called and accompanied me by phone, as I hobbled back to the car vowing that this would be my last mall adventure.   I was grateful for the company of both, Jocelyn and Luci. 

I am grateful to Janet for finding Luci for me at SNIPSA--and for her willingness, along with Will's family, to keep her when I need to travel sans doggie. 

I am grateful for online shopping.  Any minute. now, I'm expecting Amazon to deliver my pre-let birch tree, two books, and a bath mat. 

In my newly painted bathroom, the only pictures on the wall are gifts from Betty and Nellie.  Nellie and I met our junior year of high school when my family moved to Lawrenceville.  Betty and I met in kindergarten in Cochran.  

Three little framed cards, watercolored houses, remind of a trip with Betty when she saw me looking at the cards and bought them.  The print of Nellie's painting reminds me of a trip when she visited Texas, 2016.  

It's kind of ironic that my bathroom is adorned with gifts from two of my oldest friends, the only two in two high schools combined who are still friends. 

I'm grateful for the unseen technology that brings us AC, heat, electricity, telephones, internet, and hot water. For toothpaste, tape, books, Thai food, and reliable cars.  For memories, art supplies, and warm socks.

I'm thankful for what sanity, intelligence, and kindness remain in this world's insanity. 

And for the play house in which I live, I'm so grateful to my parents who gave it to me as a Christmas present 25 years ago. 

As my daddy always said, "Keep the main thing the main thing." The people in my life, blood-related or otherwise-- are always the main things.  

Whenever anyone asks Carlene how she's lived such a long and healthy life, her answer is, "Gratitude."  She has lost so many beloved people, including her parents, all three of her brothers, one of them when he was only ten, her oldest grandson Canaan in March, almost all her same-age friends, and the love of her life, my daddy.  From Carlene, I've learned many things.  Here are two that I think about every day:

1. Gratitude for those with whom you've shared  many years and memories--including those who are no longer physically present. 

2. "Everything is tuition"--closely akin to gratitude. No mistake or regret escapes this net--as we learn from every single thing that happens. 

Paying Attention

In the last five years, I have learned so much about various arts and crafts:  

I can now read the color wheel and know the difference between cool and warm colors.  I know that mixing cools and warms can make muddy brown. 

Transferring botanicals to the gel plate has wowed me-- the tendrils and veins of leaves. Feathers.  Grasses.  

Turning color photos into high contrast black and white photos has reminded me of the skills I learned in photography classes, editing to increase or decrease contrast, shadows, and exposure.  I will soon show you how this relates to gel printing images captured in a photograph. 

I now know how to fold signatures to make a book--and so many ways to bind books with threads and string and tapes.  

I love the way water colors move around on the wet page and bleed playfully into other colors.

The light on houses and trees and people in early morning and late afternoon (the golden hours) has inspired me to take pictures again.

This list could go on and on and on.  While the actual products made are few and far between, it's a pleasure to play as often as I can.

What I'm learning is of absolutely no value to anyone but myself.  

Occasionally I make something I deem worthy of a gift or hanging on my walls.  But for the most part, it's learning that enriches my days.  I am free to explore, to poke around, and to try new things, just for the joy of it.

It's a thrill to master anything. Occasionally, that happens. 

Nurturing creativity just makes life way more fun, more interesting.  It connects me with other people who do the same.  And it changes how I pay attention--and to what I pay attention.  

The poet Mary Oliver wrote:

Instructions for living a life: 

Pay attention,

Be astonished.

Tell about it. 

This morning, I was walking Luci around the block, when she suddenly pulled me in a different direction.  It was as if she were saying, "You're not the boss of me; we're going that way...." I followed her lead.

Since I was gathering leaves for mono printing, it turned out her route had different leaves than the ones I'd seen on the usual walk.  Maybe she knew what I was doing and wanted to point out some good leaves?

Up comes the scruffy little black dog who roams freely around the neighborhood.  They gave each other the canine version of Namaste, then Luci continued leashed and the black dog trotted away. 

I wished Luci could have that freedom.  I try to give her as much freedom as I can and watch her noticing smells and strangers. 

I've spent the morning pressing leaves and feathers into the gel plate.  Some of the results were muddy messes.  Some were almost astonishing.  I'm telling you about it. 

Grandmotherly tidbits

My friend Edward's painting and repairing a few things.  A week or so ago, I sat down on the bathroom floor and started to do the painting myself and realized that painting is now clearly outside my wheel house.  

Anticipating company in January has inspired me to finish up a string of never-ending  house and yard projects. 

Meanwhile, in Virginia, Lovebirds Day and Tom, empty nesters, dating again while their boys are away at college.  

In Helotes, Elena--who loves all living things, big and small, human and otherwise, adores her baby cousin, Tru:

Pam and I are going tomorrow night to see Nathan inducted into the National Honor Society. He's been pretty mum about his girlfriend, but I'm hoping to get a chance to meet her during the holidays.