Two Frog Home

Originally posted on Simple Katie on November 22, 2006.

Yesterday, I went with my good friend to visit a local herbalist/reflexologist. I’ve been to this healer once before though it’s been several years ago when I was having some problems with bone spurs on my feet. She’s a great woman who instantly makes you feel loved when you enter her home. She takes good care of the folks who come to visit her and yesterday was no exception when she talked with my friend regarding her health issue.

We were there about an hour total and during that hour, laughed alot. That in and of itself, lifted my friend’s spirits, perhaps more so then the pratical advice. My friend has another appointment in a few weeks for a full treatement involving reflexology. Having been through this treatment, I know my friend is in for a wonderfully healing and loving experience. Though I already know this to be true, it was driven home for me again yesterday: love and laughter have much to do with healing perhaps more so then the herbs and treatments themselves. (Disclaimer: I’m not saying that medicines, herbs, and other medical procedures aren’t necessary - just that they should be complimented with love and laughter.)

At one point during the conversation - we discussed how the three of us ladies were not “normal” at least not in the mainstream sense of the word and how comfortable we were with that. The herbalist made this statement, “I don’t dabble in normal.” It was an off-hand comment but I thought it was a great philosophy. The more I thought about it the more I realized, the people I’m closest too, the blogs I read and enjoy the most, etc. all don’t dabble in normalcy - instead they live life as it seems most natural to them without apology. I wish that was celebrated more on the news then what celebrity couples sex tape was recently released, or who married who as a publicity stunt. Ok, that may not ever become a reality but it’s a nice dream to have.

In honor of the approaching Thanksgiving Holiday, I’m thankful for all the bloggers who don’t dabble in normal and who in turn give me the inspiration, practical knowledge, and courage to live the simple life I do.

Today has been a rollercoaster of a day.  We still haven’t heard if the seller’s bank has approved the contract, so while the house feels like its ours, it isn’t officially yet, no matter how good it all looks to everyone.  The day was full of swings from overjoyed to completely down in the dumps.  I’d think we were all clear then realize the house might not be ours in a month, oy it was terrible.  Then when I was at my most overwhelmed, saddest point of the day, the phone rang at work and it was my dear Jeff.  It never ceases to amaze me how just the sound of his voice can change everything for me.  He’s my best friend and my biggest earthly comfort and I’m so grateful. 

I kept thinking about how lucky I was, and I remembered this post from Simple Katie, originally posted on October 4, 2006.  It was a good reminder to bring it over here.  It’s also appropriate considering our 8 year anniversary is in just 12 days.

While talking with several single friends last week, “you’re so lucky,” was said to me. The luck being discussed was that I’m happily involved with Jeff and have been for some time now. While I agree I am lucky, it’s not only about luck there’s so much more to it in my opinion. I’ve been thinking about this luck and my life the last few days.

A great amount of luck had to fall into place for Jeff and I to meet; that is absolutely the truth. But really, in my opinion the luck ends there. Everything else has taken place because of love, commitment, dedication, and work. In the beginning, we both shared dreams, goals, things we didn’t want from life, past experiences, and so much more so that when we made the leap to commitment we knew what we could expect from a life together. That was honest work that built our love which led to our commitment.

The bond between us grew quickly and I was head over heels in love with him within 2 weeks. There was no denying my affection for him; I mailed him handmade cookies every week with love letters and much more. How could his love for me not grow, with those kinds of packages? It was very much a fairytale type love. A love that was all encompassing and wonderful. The kind of love that only allows you to think of the loved one and little else. The kind of love that leaves you in a constant glow and smile.

When we made the decision that I would move to Montana with him, we sold just about everything I owned and fit what we could in my car and drove back to Montana together (he’d flown into Pittsburgh). The fairytale love while it still exists can’t be maintained constantly at least in my experience. But the love we do have is better then that fairytale love because it’s backed by a deep commitment and dedication to each other and the life and lifestyle we share. It’s the commitment that makes our life real to me, it’s the commitment I crave because the commitment deepens my dedication and love to him as my soul mate.

Honestly, there have been times in the last 6 years when I’ve thought I don’t know that I’m cut out for this - I don’t know if I can be the woman he needs/wants, I don’t know, I’m not sure, etc. However, in those thoughts it’s has never crossed my mind that I would leave or that he would leave. That’s commitment and that’s love, unconditional, fairytale love. He puts up with me when I’m less than gracious. I put up with him when he’s cranky. It’s in those moments of realizing he’s not the prince on the white horse, and I’m not the grateful sleeping beauty, that love and commitment are born. It’s in those moments that a relationship is defined. It’s in those moments where you can define your partner’s truest self and your own. It’s in those moments that you decide how much you want/need/love your partner.

It’s easy to love when everything’s perfect or when you feel like it - it takes work, commitment, and dedication to act in a loving manner when he’s cranky or when you just want to be left alone. I can honestly say that my love for Jeff is stronger and better now then it was 6 years ago, it’s not that dreamy head in the clouds love, but it’s the realistic committed love that in my opinion is way better.

Am I lucky? Absolutely, but I’m also dedicated and willing to work hard for what I want. When I was single I wasn’t willing to settle either and neither was Jeff and because of that we both got what we wanted and in the end that was each other. Thankfully all that honesty in the beginning paid off; to something I don’t know how I could live without.

Note: I’m going to close down the Simple Katie blog that I kept for several years before this blog, but before I do I’m going to bring my favorite posts here.  The following was originally posted on May 1, 2007.

I’ve written before about how much I adored my grandmothers, my grandparents in general. Months ago, my dad sent me a box of old photos. Some of my grandparents when they were first married, some of my aunts and uncles growing up, etc. as well as ones of my sister and I as children. I just started scanning some of them, however. These two photos particularly reminded me so much of the impact my grandparents had on me.

According to my grandmother’s handwriting this photo was taken in 1979, I would have been about 5. I’m a little taller now, I can do dishes without standing on a chair, otherwise not a lot has changed. I still wear an apron when working in the kitchen, though now it’s a real apron not a dish towel. My grandma eventually taught me how to sew my own aprons. I still wear slippers around the house constantly (I have no doubt that the slippers in the photo were very similar to the ones my grandpa wore and I wanted to do everything like he did). Notice the canning jar on the counter to my right, I was being indoctrinated at that young age about the virtues of home canning. Houseplants on the windowsill as well, just this past weekend, I potted up a ton of houseplant starts that had come from cuttings from other houseplants we have. Our home is full of houseplants, again something that was part of my life from a very young age.

This photo was snapped in 1978, I loved playing with my grandma’s fabric scraps and imitating my grandmother in everything. She hung her laundry on a line outside in the summer and had lines strung up in the basement for winter drying. At the ripe old age of 4 I was learning how to do laundry and line dry. Something I do to this day. I still play with fabric scraps too, thanks to my grandma I’ve learned how to turn them into beautiful and warm quilts.

I feel incredibly blessed to have had has this exposure to old-fashioned home keeping, truly what a wonderful thing it’s been for me. I feel blessed that my grandmother’s shared this wisdom and knowledge with me, that they had enough foresight to know this was important stuff and didn’t let modern notions of what is and isn’t necessary color their worlds. How lucky was I that I had these amazing women in my life? I miss them everyday, but I feel their spirits around me when I use the many lessons they taught me as I was growing up.

Our official spring ritual occurs when we change from flannel to linen sheets and has nothing to do with the calendar.  Despite bits of snow and night temperatures under 30, I decided today was the day to have that little ritual.  With the changing of the sheets also comes the changing of the quilt from:

The quilt I made from old t-shirts and scraps.  It’s a variety of fabrics, made warmer because the “batting” is from an old blanket I got at the thrift store.  This quilt is replaced with:

The treasure made by my grandma.  Each square was hand embroidered by her and hand-quilted.  The amazing thing to me about this quilt is that each block is quilted slightly different than the others to match the particular embroidered design.  It’s not a heavy as my quilt, but it is still incredibly warm because of the quilting.  My grandma’s love makes it seem warmer, too.

100 Things :: 11) I bring my lunch.

I almost called this one - I brown bag it.  However, I bring my lunches in beautiful, reusable handmade tote bags, not the disposable plain brown paper sacks.

I do bring my lunch to work everyday and I pack Jeff’s too.  We also pack our lunches when we go for hikes, scenic drives, various festivals, etc.  It just seems a better way to ensure our health and our frugal nature.   It also seems the most ethical way to keep disposable items from getting into landfills.

Our lunches are pretty standard - soups in winter, salads in summer.  We usually have some kind of fruit, fresh in season, home canned when not in season.  We pack wraps and sandwiches on occasion.  We don’t generally have leftovers for lunch, however; because we save those for dinner.  I like to include homemade bread, biscuits, muffins, etc when I can as well.

I like packing Jeff’s lunch too in that I find it a great way to connect with him in the middle of a hectic work day even when we aren’t eating a meal together.  Occasionally I tuck a little love note or treat in his bag too, just because.

I’m grateful for my little tote bag sitting in the office kitchen/break room because its an insurance policy of a little bit of home in my office.  It’s also a promise of a healthy nourishing break mid-day to just rejuvenate and in some small way reconnect with my love.

I’ve known for a long time, a very long time, that I don’t quite fit into most molds.  I don’t fit the standards for most “groups” people want to classify me in: 30something, gardener, environmentalist, hippie, professional, small business owner, Christian, etc. etc.  I never fit molds during those awkward teenage years, either, thankfully the angst of not quite fitting in, has alleviated over time.

I’m quite comfortable in my own skin and I am blessed with a small circle of very good friends and of course, there’s Jeff, who appreciate the me that I am.  Thankfully, these folks love me for my quirks and for the fact that I don’t fit most molds and can just be me.  Honestly, these same folks don’t fit any particular molds either which is probably why we all get along even in our vast differences.  Sadly most of us are scattered and time spent together is frightfully short.

However, no matter how comfortable I may be in my own skin, rejection does still hurt now and then.  Most of the time, I’m all too happy to accept people not liking my inability to fit my rather square self into round holes.  Honestly, I don’t want to be surrounded by people who can’t be tolerant and loving.  It’s just not my groove.  What does sting, a little, however; is when I think I may have met someone who I’d like to get to know better but something about me doesn’t fit into their idea of who I am or one ideal doesn’t quite match up and they dismiss me.  Whether its because I’m a Christian who isn’t a Republican (or a Democrat), or because I’m a 30something with no children, or because I don’t wear orange, etc.  it hurts when people pick one difference and disregard the many things we may have in common and decide that I’m not a person worth getting to know.  

For the most part, I believe I can be rather accepting and loving of folks and I try very hard to look for similiarities not differences so that I can create a warm community around me.  I know, I know, the world at large doesn’t behave that way and that is so sad.  My father would tell me here, that I need to leave the 100 hundred acre and Pooh behind.  For the record, he’s the one that taught me to walk to the beat of my own drummer, heaven knows he’s done it his whole life (thanks dad!).

So today, I’m a little downtrodden over what could have been, and I know that’s no way to spend my life either.  I’m also sad because I know that I’m such a homebody that I don’t always make a good friend, but it sucks when I don’t even get the chance to try.

In the end, though, I’m left wondering about building community.  Can I do it?  Can I build a community of folks who focus on similiarities and not differences and who act as a community members to each other?  What’s a girl to do? 

After a long day, I love coming home to a nice meal and my sweetie.  Who doesn’t?  However, cooking a nice meal after a long day, isn’t always my favorite thing to do.  I love to cook but sometimes I just want something to fill my stomach and fast.  A little planning and a well stocked pantry can be saviors on those nights.  Thankfully, my sweetie generally arrives home just a few minutes after me, so that part is a given.

Thanks to some planning and a well stocked pantry, our good meal was quick, filling, and healthy.  Yesterday, I made some food for the week ahead, including a big pot of soup and Cheddar, corn, & herb muffins for our lunches.  I also made some meatloaf muffins and cooked up some mexican rice that were perfect with a jar of green beans heated up for dinner.  I’m not a huge fan of the microwave, rarely use it in fact, but on nights like this one, it was perfect to reheat a quick hearty meal.  Dinner conversation was light and cheery.  After dinner, we took a quick trip to the library for new reads and now I’m settled into the recliner, with a heating pad trying to relax some back spasms getting ready to curl up with my latest book finds.

These are the moments when my body just relaxes into the joys of home.  These are also the moments when I realize, I’m getting older (a heating pad and a recliner, for pete’s sake).  Most importantly these are the moments when I just feel loved and safe because, in the end isn’t that what home is about?

100 Things #8 - I love to bake.

While that probably doesn’t come as a shock to anyone who looks through the photos on this blog, it is something that is very much ingrained into my genetic code.

I can remember baking with my grandmother from a very young age.  At Christmas time, I can remember, my Grandma rolling out & cutting the sugar dough into shapes and brushing them with the egg wash.  My sister and I would then decorate the cookies with colored sugar, sprinkles, raisins, chocolate chips, cherries, and more.  My dad’s was on oven duty during these baking sessions.  He would put the sheets in the oven and remove the cooked treats to wire racks to cool.  I fondly remember hearing my dad say things like, “oops this one broke or this one burned a little, I suppose I’ll have to eat it.”  I use my grandmother’s sugar cookie recipe to this day. 

It was my grandmother who taught me things like shifting flour and kneading bread dough.  Everytime I have a baking sesson, I feel my grandmother’s spirit right next to me as I sprinkle sugar onto cakes or pull crusty loaves out of the oven.  No doubt, because of my fond memories of baking as a child, I associate baking inherenty with love.  I do my best to shower that manifestation of love onto others.  I do love watching someone bite into something I’ve baked and see their eyes light up, and know that I did bring just a hint of love and my grandmother into their life.

Over the weekend, I was listening to an older Greg Brown album and was inspired.  The particular song that got me thinking was If You Don’t Get It at Home, if you’re not familiar with that particular song, the chorus is basically this, “if you don’t get it at home you’re going to go looking.”  “It” in the song is love.  I got to thinking about everything else we going looking for if we don’t find those things at home.

Think about it, as a society, everything we go looking for: nutrition, love, acceptance, faith, education, etc.  The list goes on and on, and we go looking for it in a variety of ways from shopping to drugs, from cults to sex, and everything in between.  I realize, many folks have homes that are full of unspeakable horrors and those inside have to look elsewhere to find what they need to fill up.  So, how I can help those folks?  How can I make sure those inside my home, get what they need and don’t go looking?

I know that Jeff and I both, find our home to be a refuge from the world.  It is a place of peace, comfort, and love not just for us, but also for everyone who comes visiting.  We strive to have a place that people enjoy being and I know that we’ve succeeded simply by the number of people who feel comfortable enjoying a meal and then taking a nap on our couch.  People feel comfortable to just drop by without calling first, I count these as blessings (most of the time), and am glad people think of us as great company and dependable friends.  Both Jeff and I love being at home, there simply is no other place we’d rather be most of the time, and even those times when we do want to be somewhere else, we quickly look forward to getting back home.  I feel pretty confident those people in my home, get their fill and won’t have to go looking elsewhere for it, however; I know that I must be vigilant in making sure to keep the home full of love and joy.

How can I help those folks who don’t get these things at home?  I’ve spent some time over the last few days thinking about this, in depth.  I do believe, that my primary responsibility and focus should be on my home, however; I’m not a hermit so I do have contact with lots of people.  I’m going to make it part of my focus, to bring home with me whenever I leave my home and go out into the world.  I can carry a welcoming, loving attitude with me at all times.  I can be sure to bring those manifestations of home to gatherings or as surprises and gifts, in the form of meals, bread, treats, offers of just idle chit chat, gardening help and more.  Can I help everyone?  No, I’m a realist.  Can I help stop a hurting soul from turning to drugs or some other harmful choice?  Maybe, I can’t and won’t underestimate the power and impact of a kind word or simply taking the time to care enough to listen.  I also believe that the sense of home can be very healing.

Maybe, just maybe, I can help others create a home that is a place of comfort and not one they have to leave to find what they need.  Maybe, just maybe, I can encourage people to make their home, theirs, and a place that is nutritious to their hearts, minds, and souls, even if they live there alone.  I’m an idealist and a dreamer to be sure, but I do believe I can make a difference, and it seems that home and homemaking (even if not in the most traditional “homemaking” sense) are becoming the callings of my life.  More than anything, I believe most people feel disconnected and alone these days, and if I can spread these feelings home, perhaps I can help people feel less alone and in turn spread that around a little more.

Last night I met with a few folks, I’d gotten to know through my last job.  It was a pleasant evening with lots of laughter and general conversation very relaxed at a restaurant on the shores of Whitefish Lake.  I had taken little bags full of thank you gifts in the form of espresso whoopie pies.  Its a new recipe and I figured they wouldn’t mind being taste-testers (I was right, they didn’t mind one bit).  They also gave me a little thank you gift in the form of some heavy duty hand garden tools, some awesome gardening gloves, and seeds (including some saved seeds from the gal’s garden).  Really, a gift that includes saved seeds from a local garden is the best gift a gardening gal can receive.  It was a grand night and I’m so glad that I’ve had the opportunity to work with these folks over the years and look forward to seeing how our paths continue to cross in the future.