knit, purl, pray

The diagnostic imaging waiting room is a scary place to sit. It's like the whole room is holding its breath, everyone hoping, praying that their unspoken dread won't materialize on screen.

Today I sat with my cousin and her husband as he went in for various scans to determine the extent of his already diagnosed cancer. A few weeks earlier, when oncologists and CT scans and carcinomas were completely out of the realm of conversation topics, I taught my cousin to knit. Although an insanely busy yet extremely capable working mom of three young high-energy girls, she thought it would be nice to have a productive yet mindless activity to do in her "downtime": sitting through one daughter's ballet class, waiting for her plane to board on a business trip, pausing for a stoplight.

Although I have taught probably 20 people to knit in my lifetime, I am not a particularly proficient or productive knitter. I have at least a dozen sets of needles, more than 50 random skeins of yarn and 10-20 half-knitted scarves, sweaters, hats and blankets abandoned and unraveling for one reason or another. I always think I like to knit but once I get into it, I get bored or frustrated or tired. The projects (i.e., scarves) I have finished have all been gifts (save one) and have all been fun to start and grueling to finish.

Part of what I did when I sat with my cousin today was to help her unravel some mistakes in her scarf and restart her knitting. As I sat in that scary waiting room, repairing her project and working some yarn of my own, knitting felt different. Each stitch reminded me of what praying a rosary must be like. Because when you're living in the utter chaos of not knowing, clinging to any scrap of hope you can find, every stitch, like every breath, becomes a prayer.

"Knitting seems like a good way to pray," I said to my cousin as we sat together, fumbling with our stiches, waiting.

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "It a lot easier to pray while you knit than it is to pray while you're reading a magazine."

Maybe this is what every diagnostic imaging room needs, not a bunch of People magazines, but a knitting teacher to ease the dread by helping waiters find a better way to pray. All I know is that I plan to keep my knitting out for a while. With all the praying there is to do, I expect to have one long scarf very soon.

a beautiful day to fly

Yesterday was as near perfect as a day can get. Liam dressed for the occasion. Since it was a holiday, I figured, Why not wear your PJs out to play? But to a superhero, these ain't no bed clothes.

linnaeus makes my day

Yesterday was the birthday of my brother Mark who was a mere 28, and of Carolus Linnaeus who would have been, were these Old Testament days, a whopping 301. I know this odd fact about Linnaeus (the Swede who basically named all living things) because of The Writer's Almanac, which has hit my inbox daily for several years now. Every day there's a poem and a treasure trove of Trivial Pursuit tidbits that someone like my dad could actually scan and remember. If I even have time to read the "what happened on this day in the humanities history profiles" (which isn't often, as I mainly signed on for the poetry), I would certainly forget whatever I took in the second I opened another email or walked into another room. Yet I will remember Linnaeus.

You see, here's a botanist, university professor and all-around genius who developed a Latin naming system and listed 4,400 species known to science at the time (today there are over 1.5 million!), and then announced, when his life was near its end, that his proudest achievement was introducing rhubarb to Sweden. Yes, that's right, rhubarb. Linnaeus apparently imported exotic plants and animals to Sweden and attempted to grow them, including coffee, tea, ginger and coconuts, and the sole surviver (and thriver) was rhubarb. The only thing I can figure is that Linnaeus had my recipe for rhubarb muffins, rhubarb oatmeal crumble, rhubarb bread, strawberry-rhubarb pie and, especially, my grandma Gaye's rhubarb sauce. Because to have growing rhubarb as his proudest achievement, he must have loved to eat this strange fruit/vegetable/weed as much as me.

Although most rhubarb recipes involve lots of sugar to combat the intense tartness, my grandma's rhubarb sauce includes very little. Because my grandma does not have this recipe written down, she just told me what she does. And now, that's what I do. If you are an exacting cook, you will not like this recipe. (Because what I am giving you is just my interpretation. For a thicker sauce use more rhubarb. For a thinner sauce, more apple juice.) But if you like rhubarb, you will be glad you made it. It is divine on vanilla ice cream but it also turns plain yogurt into dessert. I am eating it right now. Thanks, Linnaeus.

Grandma Gaye's Rhubarb Sauce
4-6 cups chopped rhubarb
1/2 can frozen apple juice concentrate
1 pkg. gelatin
1 pkg. sweetened frozen strawberries (this is the "sugar")
1-2 chopped oranges (optional)

Bring rhubarb and apple juice to a boil. Simmer 10-15 minutes until rhubarb is mushy. Turn off heat and stir in gelatin. (Vegetarians could probably use tapioca as a substitute.) Cool a bit and stir in the strawberries. Add oranges.

things we learn from nature

Yesterday Andrew took Liam with him to run an errand. When they got in the car Liam called out from the backseat, "Hey dad, there are two flies on my window. I think they're wrestling."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's a mommy and a daddy fly."

"How do you know they're wrestling?"

"Well," he paused. "Because the daddy's on the mommy's back and she's flapping her wings."

a visit to our farm

Lately we've been stopping by our favorite farm store Heritage Prairie Market at least twice a week. We come to buy local dairy products, just-picked produce and the occasional hand-crafted gift. We come to pet the dog, chase the cats and say hi at the farm animals. We come to soak in the sunlight, get kissed by the wind and breathe in the musty, earthy scent of growing things.


Today we got to peek at the chicks that will soon be egg-laying hens. Our resident animal lover probably would have stuffed this sweet peeper into his mouth given the chance. A poke at the chick's downy head was all the farmer allowed Elliott, but he loved every second of it.


After buying some rhubarb and aspargus, milk and eggs, we slid into our favorite adirondack chair for a late afternoon breather. I could never get Elliott to look at the camera because the cat had his full attention. Liam, however, was all about lounging. I was so happy to be away from work and sickness (been a lot of both around here lately) that I considered pitching a tent and calling it a day. Instead we waved goodbye and had eggs and asparagus for dinner, guzzling down the milk so we'll have a good reason to go back soon.

birthday boy

If Elliott could talk I'm quite sure he'd tell you the best thing about turning one was getting to eat cake. With his exceptional fine motor skills, I expected that he might eat his cake in nice little bite-size pinches. Oh no. The boy stuffed his cake down in two fistfulls. The whole slice was gone, crumbs and all, in less than a minute. The bib was definitely an afterthought, and really not even needed. He made sure all the cake went into his mouth.




Happy birthday, Elliott!

simplify your life

Yesterday I heard June Englund speak on simplifying your life. I was looking for practical, implementable tidbits that would help reduce some of the chaos in a day, and I was not disappointed. Here are some of the takeaways that I plan to put into action:

S start your day the night before
-Put your house back in order. (This I already do, particularly to give Andrew a relatively decent environment to come home to and because messes in the visible areas drives me nuts by the end of the day - messes in the hidden areas, that's another story.)
-Get a jump start on laundry by putting in a load before you go to bed.
-Create a weekly breakfast plan so you know what you're doing before you get up. Don't ask kids what they want for breakfast; let them know the schedule. If they're whining for pancakes, let them know that's great because they'll be able to have pancakes on Friday, but today we're having oatmeal.
-Set out clothes for kids for the next day. Give them two or three options. If they don't like what they picked, well, they get another choice that night for the next day. (This will hopefully help us keep Liam from ransacking his closet every morning. Worked today!)
-Create a list for the next day and prioritize it: A) has to be done by me that day; B) can be delegated or put off to another day; C) needs to be done by someone else (maybe a child!); D) never has to be done (our "good intentions" - like putting photos in albums, making a quilt, cleaning out the basement). The idea of making some of my list items a "D" was a huge insight and relief. I can get paralyzed by all that I have to do, when really it's just stuff I'd like to do and in the grand scheme of things none of it "has" to be done!

I initiate your plan
-Make your bed. (I'm still not convinced about this one. I've never been a regular bedmaker, but the idea is that it makes your room look 80% "done." Considering I never return to my room until I plan to pull the covers off again, I'm not sure how much it really matters.)
-Thank God for a new day and ask for help.
-Get dressed.

M make wise choices
-Decide your meals for the week. This is something I already try to do because I know that in the long run it saves me money. If I go into a grocery store with a list that will provide the ingredients for specific meals, I am much less likely to impulse buy and waste money.
-Do some basic cleaning throughout the day. If someone is coming by in 15 minutes, it's amazing how fast I can clean up my house. It doesn't have to take more than a few minutes to wash a floor or clean the bathroom.
-Declutter by implementing the rule "If something comes in, something must go out." (I am still not sure how to do this. Clutter is my nemesis.)

P perfectly imperfect
-Allow yourself to do a job less than perfect.
-Learn to do something fast and furious.
-Break a job down and get moving. (Boy, do I need this advice. But, knowing myself, I'm not sure it'll make any difference.)

L learn to say NO
-Make a purpose statement. What do I want my family to be about? The idea is that this will help you decide what to say "yes" to. Admittedly, this is my most challenging area. I hate to say no. But, as Jane noted, you end up saying "no" to good things but you save your "yeses" for the best.
-If you need to give an answer on the spot, say "no" or that you need to think about it.

E end well
-Be at home and stop running by 4 p.m.
-Eat meals together as much as possible. We create a family unit around a shared meal. (And, as I'm learning, kids learn how to share and sit and enjoy being together, and, if we're lucky, develop some table manners.)
-Put your house back in order...and so it goes.

In addition to this great advice from Jane, I would add that a simple life enjoys the outdoors, reads a lot, spends more time creating than shopping, and keeps one big calendar updated with every event, deadline, due date that applies to each person in the family. We are working on this! If anyone has other suggestions, I am all ears.