Ahhh Spring!

We had one really long winter.  It was gray, gray, gray.  We have had colder, more snowy winters, but there was something about this one that was miserable.  I'm sure I'll say the same thing next year.

Toward the end of this winter, I started to thing about how people made it through the winter in ages past.  I'm sure they were even more eager for spring than we are.  What did they eat?  I would think they would be down to a few shriveled potatoes in the cellar and were tired of everything they preserved the previous summer.  They couldn't run to Kroger for fresh spinach or strawberries in March.

My personal winter felt much longer than the actual winter.  By the end of it, I was mentally and physically exhausted.  Work was/is crazy was ever and predicted to get even more busy.  My personal winter left me feeling like a favorite quote.

“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Things turning a corner at work, and I'm feeling more energized.  It's Spring.  Everything seems fresh and full of promise.

I think it's really Spring this time.  How many times have we said that this Spring?  This is the real deal.  There is green grass, flowers, birds chirping,  and Spring peepers peeping.  It's full of promise.

Groundhog Day

All of July, Brandon and I have said it's just like the movie Groundhog Day where the same day keeps repeating itself.  I'm pretty sure I could write the weather forecast at this point.  Sunny, hot, maybe some clouds, maybe some storms that will miss you completely or provide exactly five drops of rain.


Everything is brown and dying.  This weather rut has really started to affect everyone.  It's like SADS  seasonal affective disorder syndrome) in the summer not the winter.  During the hottest days, I got to the point where the blinds and curtains were drawn and we sat in the dark trying to stay cool.  I worry about my farming friends and friends and family with livestock and horses.  Will there be enough hay for winter?  Will the entire corn crop be a bust?


In combination with some things I've been going through, I feel like I'm stuck in a rut or in a never-ending cycle.  I think things are changing -- that things will get better, but like the weather it's just more of the same.


"I’m stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake" -Relient K, Be my Escape


The best news is that there is hope even when things are dull or even dark.  Big decisions are in store for me.  Although I'm nervous about them, there is excitement as to what and where God is leading me.  I keep saying I need to pray about my job situation and where I need to be, but I haven't really taken time out to do just that.  God knows where I'm going even if I don't.  I need to get out of my way.  Sometimes I try to hang onto thing way past the time I should have let them go.


This is just all part of my journey to real life.

Miss Molly Cat

I feel like a terrible, terrible pet owner today.  I am seriously contemplating putting one of my kitties down.  She is now a geriatric kitty who isn’t using the litter box any longer.  I feel terrible because I didn’t take time to find out what was up with her when this all started.  May be she had a UTI which caused her not to use the litter box and now it has become a habit.  We have replaced carpet in one room twice and will be getting carpet for another room any day.  I know we need to do something and several people have said it’s time to put her down.  Why do I feel so guilty?  It doesn’t seem right just to end a life.  Especially, we I look into her sweet trusting eyes.

Molly cat and I have lived under the same roof for 15 years.  She is the cat with the bodacious purr and beautiful silky white fur with patches of tan and gray.  My mother thought she had a monkey face.  We have been through thick and thin, highs and lows.  She’s seen me at my best and at my worst.

I first met Molly on a stormy Spring night.  I was awakened to hear her crying.  She was sitting on my bedroom window ledge.  I went to open the blind and all I saw was a white streak.  A day or two later, I returned to my apartment from a bike ride and this tiny kitten with a huge plume of a tail ran up to me from behind the lilac bush in front of my living room window.  I fed her tuna and the rest is history.  My apartment complex had IUPUI college students and I have feeling someone dumped her at the end of the semester.

Molly cat was my first pet.  I learned that 4 month old kittens are very energetic and persistent.  Having grown up in a pet free zone, I was bound and determined not to let this cat on my bed at night.  First, I tried simply closing the door.  That didn’t work.  This kitty had claws and knew how to use them.  Then I tried sleeping with a squirt gun to deter her.  Then I just gave up.  When I had her spayed, I even made a pallet on the bed with towels and put her on it so she wouldn’t try to jump on the bed and get hurt.  I was officially owned by this cat.  Before I knew it, I couldn’t go to sleep unless she was perched on me and purring.  I miss her doing that.  Now, another cat has taken over that job, but he walks around way too much at night.

Here official past-time in that first apartment was bird and people watching.  I kept the living room blinds open at all times and she had a cat condo as her perch.  But her favorite past-time was giving me fits by sneaking out the door and running up and down the stairway in the hall.

Molly also did her fair share of traveling to visit my parents in Evansville.  The first trip was a bit traumatic as she got two baths due to fleas.  My mother became known as “mean, evil bath woman”.  Molly won over my mother who never wanted animals in the house.  My Dad was a total pushover.  Animals and babies love my Dad.  Mom and I returned home from shopping, to find Molly and my Dad having a grand time.  Dad fashioned a cat toy from an old fishing pole with twine and a plastic ring from a milk jug.  I have no idea how long they played.  Molly would do all kinds of acrobatics to try to catch that ring.  If there were kitty X-games, she would have won a gold medal.  Shawn White had nothing on this cat, 180s, 360s, backflips, you name it.  Molly had game.

Molly had an arch nemesis, “dark Molly”.  My best friend, Chris in Seattle, also got a cat at about the same time.  Somehow we both named our cats Molly.  Both were extremely fluffy small cats, but Seattle Molly had gray tabby stripes.   Chris brought her Molly with her at Christmas to Evansville.  Of course, our Mollys had to meet.  Here’s how it went down.  Chris brought Dark Molly over to my parent’s.  Dark Molly had confidence in spades.  She immediately drank White Molly’s water, ate her food, used her litter box and played with her toys.  White Molly was not impressed.  I have a picture of a chair with Dark Molly in the seat and White Molly underneath not amused.  Cats don’t make friends as easily as people.  Who knew?

The years past by and I stayed busy with two jobs.  There were several guys who came and went who Molly didn’t like.  I should have paid more attention to her people assessing skills.  She was right on about them.

A young man moved into the apartment above mine.  It was a year before I met him, but I knew all about him like what he watched on tv and when he got home from work and when someone rear-ended his truck.  Actually, I ignored him because I thought he was a college freshman and I was a bit over thirty.   A neighbor introduced us.  Yes, this is my husband, Brandon.  Plus, Molly loved him.  She would ignore and hang with her new buddy, a confirmed dog person.  Brandon ended up with several shirts with Molly claw holes. 

Molly’s world turned upside down while I was out of town visiting a friend.  My apartment flooded when the water line to the toilet burst the morning before I returned home.  I had to rescue her out from under the bed.  Then she got to spend a few nights in Brandon’s apartment checking out the tree tops from his window.  Then she moved to the temporary “show apartment” when Brandon had a seizure and spent time at his parents.  After a fight with the apartment complex, I moved to a new, better apartment complex.  Now, she had moved up to a screened in porch and windows on both sides of the building.

With the screened in porch, came admirers.  One was a persistent fellow.  He’d even peek in the window when she wasn’t on the porch looking for her.  Someone was feeding him, but his fur got a little dirtier every time I saw him.  Finally, I lured him into my apartment with a trail of cat food.  Since this guy was a stray, I quarantined him on the porch until he got checked and out by the vet and neutered.  Boy cats stink until they get fixed.  Malachi was so tiny when I got him.  Now, he’s a muscle-bound dude.  They still fight like siblings.  He just loves to annoy the heck out of her.

She had one more move to make into our house once we got married.  She seems to like it right away.  However, the first cold night that fall, she got out of the house at midnight while Brandon was taking out the trash.  After what seemed like an eternity, I found her above the wheel well on the neighbor’s car.  I pulled her out by her collar and stuffed her inside my coat so she couldn’t get away.  She was completely coated in grease, but it was late.  I decided to wait until morning to give her a bath.  That crazy cat licked all of that off during the night.  Yuck.    

She was the star of my Pampered Chef party where she sat like a guest on the sofa.  It’s funny.  When people come over, she’s the one who comes out to meet everyone while Malachi runs because it could be my nephews or niece.  He’ll come out when he realizes it’s adults.

Then we did the worst thing you can do to a cat.  We got a dog.  Molly hated dogs.  She once was sniffed by one at the vet.  That’s all it took.  Lucy is such a good dog with cats.  She only chases them if they start running first.  I have caught Molly and Lucy sitting near each other maybe once.  They get along just fine.

I think Molly may have started with not using the litter box sometime after Lucy came into the family.  I don’t remember.  But we clean carpet and replace carpet.  Three carpets later, it’s time to do something.

 I’ve been in denial.  I have tried to create all kinds of gates and barriers to keep her in the dining room and kitchen where there is vinyl flooring.  She’s very determined that she will not be fenced in or out.  We almost missed our flight to Portland trying to fortify a baby gate between our bar and fridge.  She had it knocked down before we got our bags out the door.  The trip before last we put a very nice looking gate between the dining and living room.  It had wire both vertically and horizontally.  She used the horizontal wire as a ladder.  This latest trip I got crafty.  I pulled out some leftover screening and some crochet thread.  I thought if I covered the gate with screening that she wouldn’t be able to get over it.  I think it take her maybe 45 minutes to get up enough steam to jump to the top of the gate and over.  Other than a dog kennel, I don’t know what to do.  If we put her in a kennel while we are gone that’s one thing, but at night she will yawl and keep us awake.  I’m not ready to see her life end, but what else can we do?

It’s hard to part with someone who has been such a big part of my life.  She’s still a beautiful cat and still has a bodacious purr.  My mother-in-law has offered to take her to the vet to put her to sleep so I won’t have too.  That just seems cruel that someone she doesn’t know well would take her to her end.  My poor kitty, Molly.  I’m just afraid I will feel guilty and will fall apart.  I can’t fall apart.  I don’t have time.  Plus, work has pretty much done me in this year. 

Yes, I just wrote almost three pages about my cat.  I hoped I would feel more settled about all this by writing about it.  I don’t.

Sit-n-Spin

The Sit-n-Spin was my favorite toy I didn't have.  My friend across the street had one.  She had all of the cool stuff -- a skateboard and atari.  I remember trying to stand on the Sit-n-Spin.  That could explain why my parents did get me one.

After all of my blethering about being distracted by shiny things in my last post, I still gave into temptation and bought a spinning wheel.  Yes, as a friend put it on twitter "old world technology".  So now, I can sit and spin.

There is something meditative about this treadle powered machine.  Unlike pedaling a bicycle, this takes very little effort and must be done somewhat slowly.  I like that it forces me to concentrate on slowing down.  Slowing down has become a lost art in today's society.  Everything must be done faster and we are compelled to cram more into every waking hour. 

Then there is the magical process of taking fluff, called roving, and making it into yarn.  Have you ever taking a clump of pet hair and twisted it between you fingers?  That's spinning in it's most basic form, and people have been spinning for thousands of years.  I love the idea of having a skill so elemental.

For me, spinning is a fun and relaxing activity.  It's even a social activity.  This afternoon six friends got together to spin.  One young lady entertained us with her excitement when the whole process came together, and she made yarn.  Something that was considered work in the past is now a leisure activity.

Before the industrial revolution, spinning was something whole families did as a cottage industry.  It was work and a source of income.  Prior to the American Revolution, Great Britain heavily taxed spinning wheels and looms exported to the colonies to discourage colonial cloth manufacturing.  As colonial desires for independence increased, so did the price of cloth. 

"As the desire for independence grew so did the price of imported European cloth. It soon became not only practical, but a sign of patriotism as well, to spin and weave one's own cloth. The first sound of revolution was the rhythmic "thwack" of the beater against the web of colonial looms.

Cloth production in colonial America eventually became necessary as ties were severed with Great Britain. Cabinet makers began turning out spinning wheels, looms and other textile tools. Most families began growing flax in their gardens and raising sheep (that would often graze on town commons) to provide fiber for spinning yarn." http://www.handsonhistoryinc.org/HOH-Page12.html

In my family, there is the story that a particular coffee table was made from either a loom or a spinning wheel of a great or great-great grandmother.  I'm leaning toward spinning wheel because the turned wood legs.  Somehow I never liked that table.  Maybe I sensed its purpose was not to hold a candle holder and a candy dish but something greater.

I got my interest in the fiber arts from my mother.  However, it wasn't until her health was failing that my interest was peaked.  I'm saddened that her and I could not have had the fun of attending fiber festivals, qulit shows, retreats, or knitting group together.  What fun she would have had learning new crafts, techniques, spinning and weaving.  I just recently discovered a beautiful lace stole that my grandmother knitted probably in the late 1950's or early 1960's.  It's a precious link to my grandmother who I never met. 

Here in my mid-forties, the hope of having children has faded.  Who will I pass my legacy on to?  My mother's side of the family has become very small.  I am an only child, and I have only two cousins on my mother's side.  Only my cousin, James, has children.  Over the weekend, I resolved to write down family stories down for them.  Some of the stories include:

• Knitting socks for soldiers during WWII
• My mother making toys from orange crates
• My grandmother, grandfather and mother making doll dresses for extra income by adding a motor to the Singer treadle sewing machine.  My grandfather would run a ruffle attachment to the sewing machine after working all day.
• My mother learning to sew and making doll clothes
• Collecting and trading flour sacks to make dresses, other garments and quilts.
• My great grandmother making braided throw rugs from bread wrappers.
• My mother's enjoyment of arts and craft classes in high school including rug hooking and leatherwork.

I think it's time to spin a yarn.  I mean write a book.
-

Ooh Shiny

I just purloined (look it up) my title from the former KIPing It Real podcast.  It's also a reference to Firefly, a space western (available on Netflix).

What do I mean by "Ooo Shiny"?  In this case, it's all of those things that grab my attention and distract me.  This was on my heart during communion on Sunday.  I had just spent a whirlwind two days spending money on hobbies.  Confession probably too much money.  During communion, I was confessing how I often allow things, hobbies, etc. distract me from my relationship with the Lord.  I can so easily fall into the trap of getting all consumed with something be it work, hobbies, a trip, television - you name it.  If I want that close love relationship with Jesus, all of that other stuff has to fall in line behind him.  I know God gave me a love for the fiber arts, but I now want to know how He wants me to use it.

With that said, I'm off to another knitting retreat.  But I'm committed to having devotion time while there.

The last knitting retreat was life changing.  I found out I have sleep apnea.  My roommate noticed I stopped breathing while sleeping.  Now, my CPAP machine is going with me.  I hope I sleep better tonight with it than last night.

Remember (this goes double for me): Don't be distracted by every shiny thing, but follow the one who outshines them all.

When Cooking Attacks

I have shamelessly borrowed the title of this post from The Knitmore Girls Podcast segment "When Knitting Attacks".

Last night, I decided I wanted to boil some eggs to make egg salad.  I thought to myself "What is the best way to make hard cooked eggs?" To google I rushed.  On of the results was Alton Brown on "Good Eats" He suggested steaming the eggs instead of boiling them.  He showed lowering the heat to low and placing a steamer basket in a saucepan and steaming for 12 minutes followed by a ice bath.  Viola, perfect hard-cooked eggs.

I should have know this was bound cause some kitchen excitement.  First, the only thing I have with a steamer basket is a very large stockpot.  The first egg I tried to pull from the carton was stuck and I poked my thumb right through it.  I "steamed " the eggs for 14 minutes just to be on the safe side.  After the ice bath, I eagerly cracked one of the eggs.  I'm sure an unsavory exclamation  escaped my lips as egg ran over my hand and onto my cutting board.  I think the size of the stockpot and my wimpy stove are to blame.  I tried again on higher heat and it worked.

Now, do I dare venture into the world of Pinterest after this adventure?

Forgetful Me

So many things have happened since my last post.  I was struck by how somethings stay the same even with lots of change by something I wrote this time last year.  It was a good reminder to me.  Here it is.

Meditation on Philippians 4:4-7

Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again:  Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

This is probably the only scripture I have totally committed to memory and can recall at anytime.  There is a print out of these verses pinned to my work cubicle wall like some sort of talisman to ward off anxiety.  But do I really do what I am instructed by this scripture?  Oh no.  I think by regurgitating these words that my anxiety about everything will magically go way.  I have forgotten the power in these words.  I may have presented my request to God about some things (notice the scripture says in everything).. 

This is actually how I got to where I am today by not giving everything over to God.   The peace of God could not fully guard my heart and mind in Christ.   I had stopped taking everything to God.  I neglected the study of His Word. And I got busy with the busyness of life and work.  While I thought I was letting Christ stand guard at the front door, I unwittingly let in the enemy through the back door. 

I thought I’m good, “It’s just a tiny little door, just a crack really.”  All the while, thinking that nothing bad could come in that way.  But the enemy snuck in and wandered around eventually settling into a comfy chair.  While the enemy was visiting, he decided to do a little redecorating making all of the colors dark and muddy.  He threw worthless junk around and generally made a mess.  Everything became overwhelming and confusing. 

Just now after months and months of this unwelcome house guest, I realized what is really going on.  As I was at work this morning, I came to a particular confusing part of a project.  I went to prayer asking for clarity of mind.  Then the vision of Christ standing guard at the pretty, well kept front door of my heart and mind came to me.  But go around back, and it’s weedy with a broken patio umbrella and various tattered dog toys on the ground.  The patio door locks, but anyone could get in without much effort.   That’s how the enemy got to me.  It’s was through the neglected parts of my heart and mind.

Now, it’s time to show the enemy the door.  I have pushed him out the front door so Christ can scare him off.  Time to invite Christ around back to help me clean up the mess and to make my backdoor secure.