Baking Bonanza

Every once in a while my old baking compulsions return, usually when a guest is coming to visit.  Such was the case this morning as I await the arrival of Becky, Fritz’s niece, who will be visiting for a couple of days.  (Yay!)

Twelve years ago when I owned my bakery/deli/lunchroom this would seem like NOTHING, but now it represents a morning’s worth of work: whole wheat crescent rolls, sour cream coffeecake, and cherry cobbler – oh, and a pot of navy bean soup with Italian sausage.  Wanna come for lunch?!

Baby Betty

I’m not sure about Baby Betty’s origins, only that she was a special doll that my mother-in-law shared with my girls when they were little.  After my in-laws’ estate was settled, Baby Betty came to live at our house.  She’s as big as a year-old child, and so has her very own storage shelf in the toy closet.

Baby Betty is a Velveteen Rabbit kind of baby doll with arms that have been literally loved off.  Her eyes roll around in her head a little more sleepily than they used to, but she still has her rosebud smile and pink cheeks.

I recently knit a baby cap for one of our new granddaughters and tried it on Baby Betty (who, by the way, has a very large head) as a model.  Here are some pictures of the fitting.

Old Joe

A blue heron chose to roost on our pier a couple of times today.  When I tried to sneak outside and take a picture, Old Joe warily took off, swooping low over the water with agile ease.

One time he sat on the cover of the boat, all hunched over like an old man (or lady). 

Another time he stood on the platform of the pier itself, but as soon as I showed up on the deck he leapt into thin air sort of like Peter Pan on the run.  He was off to Never-Never Land (the swamp) without delay!

Tonight as I revisit today’s confrontations with this bird, I identify with the body language I captured in these pictures.  Although sometimes I can feel equally hunkered down, today I felt like soaring when my Rife frequency testing showed encouraging results.  While I’d been having hits on the family of cancers associated with breast cancer, today they were GONE. 

My spirits continue to be lifted (as if sprinkled with pixie-dust) even all these hours later.  

Time to Blaze

The trees continue to blush more each day, as if their secret is being exposed: they’ll be naked within the month.  Patches of reds appear in the midst of tree-green, suggesting that nozzles on giant cans spray paint have squirted a little here, a little there at the whim of a seasonal artist.

This year I’m watching the leaves more intently than in the past, as if their state mirrors my own aging.  As consistent green is mingled with strokes of color that make a final statement, I wonder if I’m entering a similar stage.  Perhaps it is time to for me blaze.

This morning a pastor spoke on Luke chapter 10.  “No one gets through life without being beaten, bruised, and left half-dead,” he said.  In other words, we all suffer.  He also reminded us that, “God desires mercy, not sacrifice.”  Thus as days pass and circumstances come and go, I may at times be the bloody man on the roadside – but at other times the Good Samaritan, blazing with mercy and compassion.  

I Thought So

It's gone again.  The pencil (see previous blog) is GONE.

That stubby little yellow editing pencil visited for about 15 minutes, but then evidently had other places to go, other people to see, other work to do.  It didn't like me.  That's it.  I KNEW IT.

Good-bye pencil.  And I thought we were going to be friends...guess I was wrong.

The Illusive Pencil

Well now, fancy THAT.  Wonders never cease!

I've complained several times here (pout, pout) that the edit function on this blog hasn't worked correctly. WHAT A BUMMER.

Ok, go ahead, call me a techno-granny.  Surely I should be able to correct a technical snafoo - just click on the little box that says "enable edit function," right?  I did that, ga-zillions of times actually, and NOTHING HAPPENED.  Even my techno-guru son tried to "fix it" on his computer by going over/under/around/through applications, only for me to discover that my computer didn't have the same settings. So I couldn't do his techno-gymnastics even if I wanted to....which I didn't, since I just wanted the "normal" edit function.  Wasn't I entitled to an ERASER, for goodness sake?

So I gave up.  If there were bloopers, and typos, so be it.  My pride would just have to suffer.  My readers would just have to think I was a loser.  A L-O-S-E-R!

Then lo and behold, presto-chango, TODAY (why today?), ON ITS OWN, the edit function shows up.  Out of nowhere, literally, it just decides to jump out of hiding.  A few minutes ago the cutsie, stubby little pencil (like a golf pencil) just SHOWED UP at the end of each post.  Bravo, pencil....but how long will you stick around?  Will you go cavorting off to your favorite CAVE?  (Surely the pencil is male.) We'll see.

POV

Point of view is a big deal for people who like to write: POV (say it – no, not separate letters as in P, O, and V, but paw-uh-v, all run together – pawuhv – that’s right).  A story can take on a completely different tone and focus when seen from various angles, various POVs.

It seems life in general is the same.  A person’s point of view changes with age.  Things take on a different slant as the years click by. 

I see so many things about myself differently these days: my abilities, relationships, faith, hopes, fears, work and roles.  I’m becoming more flexible and less pigeon-holed; more willing to take risks and less crippled by expectations; more respectful of God and less tongue-tied when talking with Him and about Him.

It’s a good time of life.  As my elderly mother-in-law once said when asked to pin-point her favorite stage, “Every phase of life is my favorite.  Whichever phase I’m in is my favorite!”  What a great testimony to contentment.  What a great POV.