The Sounds of Content

 It's happened. I must be getting old, because there are many times when I just crave silence. In the past I have required the television to be on "for company" or the radio to be playing "just because." As I write, the freeze drying has been running for 20 hours -- it's loud. The television is on and it makes sense that the volume is up higher than usual, because of the noisy dryer. Then maybe add the dishwasher or the washer and dryer. And sometimes talking becomes yelling. Don't even get me started on someone ringing the doorbell and all three dogs shouting about it.  Silence. Please.

The silence and tender soundtracks outside feed my soul. I love the sound of the wind blowing the trees and the branches rustling. The sounds of a content chicken are relaxing. I hear their little chirps and know that my girls are all happy. Years ago when there were llamas in my mix of animals, I would wait in the silence at dusk just to hear that contented hum and know that all was well in the camelid world. My antisocial cat, Marie even manages a low and contented purr as I rub her ears.

The goats all fed, spoiled and in their stalls express little grunts and sometimes not so polite pushes. When a mama is with her newborn kid, she talk to them in a language used for only that occasion. They are content.

About this time of year, maple trees are being tapped to provide us with delicious maple syrup. I've often made the effort. The sound of the liquid dripping into the metal pail is quite satisfying.

I take out the rolling pin that my Mom used for the entirety of her married life. As I begin the roll a ball of sticky dough to make a pie crust, I hear the sound that only her rolling pin makes. It's just one of many soft sounds from childhood. I am awash with sadness, memories and joy. Ultimately I am content with the sound.

Sometimes in the silence, we hear the most powerful sounds. We are lulled by them, nourished by them and we are content.

                                            Cinnamon and Clove, my happy Buff Orpingtons.

For The Love of Color!

 I love color. I delight in a variety of colors and sometimes I enjoy seeing them all at once. Sometimes I hear of people who are afraid of color. This is a fear that I don't fully appreciate. Why do people drive beige cars? I just don't get it.

My parents stayed away from colors as best as they could. They would debate for days over their top choices for indoor painting. The options would be between antique white or egg shell white. I failed to see a difference.

And one shouldn't wear loud colors because on would stand out. I was taught that I should try to blend in. I recall thinking that purple was an amazing color. My mom told me that was a color for "trashy" people -- not for me.  So for years, I didn't bother to acknowledge purple.

  As a senior in high school, we moved and I was allowed to pick colors in my room.  The walls would be white, of course, but I could pick out the curtains. "Yellow," I said. I was so excited. My yellow drapes arrived and Mom put them up. "Yellow? Where?" I asked. They were off white to my eyes. But on closer inspection, there was the tiniest bit off yellowness. I was not pleased.

Time for my senior picture came and I was told in no uncertain terms that I would not be wearing make-up and that Mom would choose my clothing. Great. I wore a beige suite. Do you know who looks good in a beige suit? No one. Then of  course, everyone I knew would receive a blah photo of me, looking nothing like me, wearing a suit that I wouldn't choose for myself if it were the last suit on planet earth. Blah!

Aside from being totally open for my own children to pick out their own clothing for their senior photos, those types of experiences taught me to embrace the delights of colors.

Luckily, I have a spouse who enables my colorful tangents and paints what I choose. Here is my living room with some not very subtle pink.  I love how that color brings coziness and life to a room I spend a great deal of time in.

I'm happy to say that my Mom stopped being afraid of color and boldly embraced it in later years. What an amazing transformation. I now openly love the color purple. And I don't care if I ever blend in to the scenery. No one, ever should have to go unseen.  See all the colors, drape yourself in color, see how all the world stands out in amazing colors.

There Are Still Role Models

 

Wonderful book! Good stories and makes you wish you could sit down and talk. Recommended!

There are positive role models all over the world. But here's the rub -- one has to pay attention to discover them. Because some of the most amazing people are very quiet and go about their life without causing attention to be focused on them. I don't think we are accustomed to that type of hero -- super or not.

Within a year of her death,  (1920) I finally noticed Ruth Bader Ginsberg. She was a tiny little woman, quiet and mostly unassuming. She was a wife and mother. Ruth was incredible smart. She was Jewish. She was a lawyer. And, oh yes, only the second woman to be appointed a Supreme Court Justice. 

Every child should know something about her work. During the 1960's and 1970's she did amazing work towards gender equality. She truly helped to change and shape the world we live in now. In fact, I would suspect that most people my age and younger, take for granted the work she did to make our lives as full and abundant as they are.

My RPG doll

My mom made sure that I paid attention to and knew something about when the first woman who was appointed to the Supreme Court in 1981 by President Ronald Reagan. I was happy to see Sandra Day O'Conner take her place among all the men. And yet, I'm bound to have to tell you that I didn't see the big deal. Of course there should be a woman on the Supreme Court, and there she is. And just like every other area in life, she was was the token woman.  That's the way it was. That's the way I understood it. That's the way I have lived it as well. That was the old normal.  Sandra and Ruth helped to create a new normal.

Another lesson to be learned from Ruth, was that she was good friends with a justice that was perhaps her exact opposite when it came to arguments and decisions brought to the Supreme Court. And yet, she and the bombastic, larger than life, Justice Antonin Scalia were dear friends.  It's not that they just tolerated each other, they had genuine affection for each other. They and their spouses reveled in the joys of opera together. (Even performing a satirical opera about their relationship, but no singing for Ruth) and were said to celebrate New Year's Eve together. A gentle caring soul, was she, but Mrs. Ginsberg definitely wasn't a pushover.  She was mighty in intelligence, justice and character. What an example of honoring an individual who could be regarded as an opponent. 

About her legacy, she said, "To make a life a little better for people less fortunate than you. That's what I think the meaning of life is. One lives not just for oneself but for one's community."

Other quotes to be appreciated:

"My Mother told me to be a lady. And for her that meant to be your own person, be independent."  

"Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you."

Ukulele Happiness

 

There's something about my ukuleles that just make me happy.  And yes I said the plural of ukulele.  I think I've got somewhere around 10.  Some are cute, some practical, one is sentimental, and one has a built in tuner that is very groovy. I have created this darling little corner of my studio (craft room) and have curated some adorable accoutrements.  Can I play the ukulele?  Well, I have had lessons. I've been to ukulele camp. I've played with a group -- Saginaw Ukulele Gurus and Rookies aka SUGAR.  But can I play? Not really, but ukulele people are so forgiving. I have no musical ability whatsoever and no one, not even the dogs want to hear me sing. I can rarely tell if something is off key, or out of key. I wasn't in band at school. So I've really missed out on that whole music education section of life.

My first ukulele didn't have a built in tuner, but it was a really pretty purple and I bought it in Hawaii.  My mom bought her sister in a seafoam green.  When my uke and I went to ukulele camp, I was thrilled to be in a really big class.  I was relieved that I could learn, play like I knew what I was doing and blend in. I was jamming and having a grand time.  Stu Fuchs, the kind and gentle teacher looked right at me, in the midst of a very full classroom and asked if he could tune my ukulele for me. So much for blending in.

But, I have a very nice spot in which to practice. I haven't done that yet, but it looks really good.

 And what child of the 70's and 80's doesn't remember Tiny Tim and his endearingly awful rendition of Tip Toe Through the Tulips? I love my treasure of a find in a pillow of him with a tulip border.

But can I play? Do I practise? Someday. But for now, I'm just enjoying the fun of being a really bad part of an accepting Ukulele community.  And really, that's the whole point.

All Creatures Great and Small

 All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful:

The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,

Each little bird that sings,

He made their glowing colors,

He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountains,

The river running by,

The sunset and the morning

That brightens up the sky.

The cold wind in the winter,

The pleasant summer sun,

The ripe fruits in the garden,

He made them everyone.

He gave us eyes to see them,

And lips that we m ight tell

How great is God Almighty,

Who has made all things well.

This was originally written as a hymn by Cecil Alexander and published as part of a collection of hymns for children in 1848. James Herriot brought further fame to the first stanza as each became the title for his beloved books about his experience as a country veterinarian.

I fell in love with those books as a middle schooler and it delighted my inner and outer animals lover and appreciator of God's amazing creativity in all things. 

Many years later, I am now rereading them.  What a delightful adventure for any animal lover.

My Journey to Badass

 

My grown daughter gifted me this bracelet for Christmas. Because of the pandemic, we weren't together while opening presents. I was sitting in my lazy boy chair as I opened the package that came in the mail from Nordstrom's.  "My how fancy," I thought. I love jewelry and she knows that is always a safe bet to give me a gift of earrings or bracelets.  Badass?  Never, ever in my life have I ever been referred to as a badass before. I've been called other uncomplimentary names, but nothing close to this one. 

It didn't take long for a smile to creep across my face.  I kind of liked the idea that my offspring thinks of me in this manner.  When my children were growing up, I would try to give them a dirty look that would shock them into behaving -- it never worked. In fact, they would laugh at my attempts at ruling them with fear.

Still trying to decide if this description fit, and cautiously enjoying my new moniker, I asked for a definition. She wanted me to describe it for myself.  I pressed her.

Boldness.  Caring for your family fearlessly, she offered. Oh yes, I thought, I would like that to be me.

My son chimed in at my pushing for more.  "Boldness in creativity -- for yourself and others."  Oh yes, I like this too.  

I checked out the dictionary. Merriam Webster has two definitions. The first description is someone who is tough, gets into trouble and can be offensive.  Yikes, maybe not. But in the second definition, more accommodated by another generation said that it describes one who is formidable or skilled in some area, impressive. I like the word formidable. The women I look up to with great respect, are formidable. My heroes are formidable.  So the definition has transformed in the vernacular over the years. I like it.

Continuing my research, I found a wonderful article, 8 Signs You're A Benevolent Badass, on "Thought Catalogue's" website, written by Depti Singh.  She tells her readers that this kind of badass isn't like its "savage counterparts."  Here's the list:

                        1. You know your own self worth and don't settle for anything less

                        2.  You are a rebellious dreamer

                        3.  You lead with love

                        4.  You have boundaries and respect other people's boundaries

                        5.  You are a hard worker

                        6.   Trash opinions don't matter to you

                        7.   You are a visionary and want to give back to society

                        8.   You know how to have fun!

Now I am beyond delighted!  Not only am I a badass, I, when I am at my best, am a benevolent badass. And I shall now continue embracing this powerful, creative, loving, formidable woman that I am.  And I am further delighted that my children can see this in me.                      

I wanted to hold baby Jesus

                            

When I was growing up, Mom and I would decorate for Christmas precisely on December 16 -- never the 15th or the 17th.  December 16 was my Dad's birthday. The goal, I'm quite sure, was to have a perfect setting and perfect meal --steak, mushrooms, fried potatoes with pineapple upside down cake -- when he rolled in from work at 4:30.  (Just a side note -- all decorations came down December 26).

Each year the house was decorated like the year before.  The manger for baby Jesus had it's place at one of the end tables flanking the couch. For some reason, that's the only piece of a nativity set we owned. As I child, I was quite satisfied with that. As an only child, that meant I didn't have to share baby Jesus when he would suddenly appear on December 25. 

I remember being so excited for His coming. No worries about Joseph finding an Inn, no thoughts of Mary's pain in giving birth, no messy animals to consider, no a single shepherd or wise man interrupting such a private moment. Just the main attraction. I couldn't wait to hold that perfect 2inch specimen of a baby boy.  There was an awe instilled in me by my parents' and an internal knowing of how life changing Jesus was in world history and in the life of that little girl on Lauer Road. 

At some point, Mom began to acquire the pieces to the Hummel nativity set. She would get one each year for her Christmas gift -- that and chocolate covered cashews. The most exciting year was when we added a standing camel.  He was huge.  I still liked my lone baby Jesus best.

Mom and Dad are gone. I have the Hummel set, but can't quite bring myself to set it up. I started my own collection 30 years ago. The above photo shows some of the work of a Michigan artist, Maryfrances Phillippi. There are so many pieces and I love having such a variety of animals represented -- how often have you seen a turtle in a nativity. 

Tiny baby Jesus could get lost in the gathering. Not a chance.  I was trained at a very young age, that Jesus was the one character in the Holy Story to hold dear. And I do.

Notice the wise men, with a camel, with a turtle.