More on signs

Last week I posted about the signs we should wear when we want people to approach us a certain way.  Maybe we are sensitive or just, well, cranky, and a sign could certainly help. 

I thought about this over the week and heard from a few of my closies (I made that word up!) who wondered if I was referring to them.  Not referring to anyone, just an observation, folks, about things that most of us could take ownership of at one time or another. 

Of course, there are a variety of signs that each of us could wear, every day.  From the outside, and without a sign, one may never guess that we are lonely, weary, sick, confused.  We put on that other happy face sign.  If we can’t quite muster the happy face, we may just put on empty face.  Ever heard of someone who never gets out?  Maybe just not able to put on a face, or wear a sign. 

I am constantly amazed by, and work to avoid, my own misperceptions of people.  Along with being sometimes cranky (hey, I can admit it!),  I have been, often, wrong (harder to admit!).   I am reminded of a beautiful friend, who works full time, has a great family and a busy church life.  She is also sometimes lonely, often alone and yearns for a “girlfriend”.  I would not have guessed.  She wasn't wearing that sign, but, brave soul, expressed her needs out loud.  Love her for that.  

This circles back to the “empty nest” misperception as well.  Even though I am campaigning against the feelings of “empty” in my own life, and maybe even making some headway, I have to know, have to see, that others may not be, in the words of Charlie Sheen, winning.  When we look upon others, please remember, it is not a race.  Slow down so others can catch up.  Step to the side so someone can join you.  Don’t forget to look for the signs that someone needs you, cause someone does.  It may not be who you were expecting, and double bonus, you just might need them, too.  

Signs

I have made loads of mistakes in my life...too many to list.  A mistake is a one time thing.  It was a mistake, I learned from it and now, move on. 

When a mistake is repeated it is no longer a mistake but a bad choice.  After all, I made the mistake,  saw the outcome and now I am choosing to do it again.  Then we march on to the definition of insanity...repeating an action and expecting a different outcome.  

Sometimes the mistake was expressing an opinion or view, in a free flow of conversation.  But today, the conversation takes a turn because, well, either it was misunderstood, too personal or, on some days, just not the right day.   

Wouldn’t it be awkward but, beneficial,  if we all wore signs that read “Sensitive today” “Hormonal” “Mad at the World, and that includes YOU”? Wouldn’t it help in our conversations if we knew how to approach each other on certain days?  On days you didn’t have a sign, we would just be like always...ourselves.  Or, we could wear a sign everyday...mine would always read "Blunt" I think.  Or maybe I could just change my name to Frank.  There are days when we are not our typical self, and a conversation that would be fine tomorrow, can not be held today.  

Naturally, bringing your own mood into a typed conversation, whether email, text or facebook...yikes.  That's a whole different can of worms, isn't it? Where's my sign now, lady? How was I to know? 

Is it better to approach everyone, everyday, like they are on eggshells? I am not sure...I think that might be insincere.  I know to speak and write with kindness, gentleness, empathy.  I can with you, if you need it today.  I have a feeling, and we have a history, though, that is not how we usually are with each other.  So, can you hook a sister up and give me a sign?   

Shimmies and similarities

I had the most entertaining weekend I have had in a very long time.  It started Friday night as we enjoyed a lovely wedding ceremony and reception for a childhood friend of our middle child.  They were cheerleaders together in high school, were together all through their elementary, middle and high school years.  It was so nice to have been included and the bride was stunning. 

Now, along with hubs and middle daughter, who’s husband could not attend, we took our two and a half year old princess.  She’s developing her boundaries and showed us a thing or two about who we think we are, anyway.  She was a doll during the ceremony, only a little squirmy, then a pistol at dinner, rejecting her chicken fingers but going whole hog for the bread and butter, and cake.   Then the music started.   Oh my.  She danced, she swayed, she jumped, she spun.  Yes, she crawled on her belly like a reptile at one point.   She walked up to strangers and took them by their hands and wanted to spin.  She forced herself into a circle of dancing nurses (the bride is a NICU nurse) and demanded the attention of each one.  She even danced her way in between the bride and groom and then, took over the groom, leading him away from the laughing, and perplexed, bride.  She was, in a word, precocious.  But, adorably so.  

She also shrugged off Papa, who tried to corral her on the dance floor, apologizing as he scurried after her.  Having none of it, she ran to the next unsuspecting dancer and jumped up and down in front of them.   Each one responded in kind, giving her a twirl and a shimmy.  

The wedding was a beautiful event and brought together two cultures ~ the groom is Serbian.  The women were gorgeous, thin and sparkly.  The men were intense and jovial with each other.  Affection wound its way through each table and group.   I loved every moment of the ceremony, with prayers delivered in two languages. I was honored to be included, and tried to appreciate the subtle similarities, alongside the differences,  in the traditions.  

To watch the two year old, turn her beaming,  fair complexion, blonde haired self to the dark, handsome groom, each of them happy, each of them smiling and appreciative of  the other, warmed me with pleasure.   If we could all find where we stand alike rather than where we stand apart.  

Pimento Cheese and other thoughts...

I have been handed some great recipes in the past and some I remember to get out; some, I forgot I had and rediscover after a long drought. I’ve been digging in recipes, as I often do, to find some sort of inspiration for dinner.  Its not always easy as I don’t always feel like it.   

One recipe I recently came across was for my aunt’s pimento cheese spread.  If you haven’t tried home-made pimento cheese spread, otherwise known in some parts as “PC” or “Carolina Caviar”, you don’t know what you are missing.  Folks doctor it up in all sorts of ways but my favorite is shredded cheddar, mayonnaise (not the fake sweet creamy white miracle of sandwich spreads folks, MAYONNAISE), pimentos, a dash of Tobasco and pecan chips.  You notice that there are no measurements there...because I have no idea.  Just whatever looks right.  Dangerous on saltines while dinner cooks or waits to be cooked....

Another recent discovery is the absolutely fabulous four cheese rosa jarred sauce for pasta.  Its a brand name, Bertolli I think, is slightly pink and has tomato you can see in the jar.  On some pasta with peppers and sausage, if you have it and is how I met it, or alone on some shape or another, its fantastic stuff.  Thanks to my sister-in-law for this one.  Does not have the “canned” taste like some alfredo sauces I have had and has that nice undertone of tomato.  Try some! Be sure you get the Four Cheese Rosa, not the Vodka Tomato Cream Sauce...entirely different.  

Finally, my recipe for today comes from my youngest child.  I threw it in the crock pot a few minutes ago and will serve it up later with a packaged cornbread muffin mix.  Slow Cooker Chicken Taco Soup and can be found online at allrecipes.com.   This is an amazingly good and quick soup, a little reminiscent of chili but not quite as heavy.  Good stuff and freezes well, which is awesome as it makes a LOT.  Good for company, too.  Thanks youngest child! 

I just realized I have referred to three of my very favorite people in these great tips.  Wow...that is a coincidence not planned.  Isn’t life grand? 

Update to the strainers!

So, I have heard from several of you that you are now the proud owner of the strainer set.  That's awesome and I hope they bring you luck and fortune.  I do want to add that I saw a similar set at Target with a different bold color for each size.   They are almost twice the price, however.  But, they were also very neat. Very.

Shiny memories

Ever been camping? I have only been a handful of times, maybe a dozen.  Tonight for dinner I made some awesome “hobo” foil packets ~ they are a good small nest entree.  It made me remember some really good times from a few years ago when camping. 

Hubs was not much of a camper and I had only been once or twice as a young, single, woman on a motorcycle date with some other couples.  Not much to tell there.  Can’t remember the guy’s name or how I even knew the others, but, off we went for a weekend of camping and riding.  I remember feeling extremely cool but other than that, eh. 

Tonight, hobo packs on my gas grill reminded me of camping with families I love and the fun we had.  The first trip, as many of you will remember, was about 30 degrees at night.  It was COLD.  My instructions were few, my layers many.  It was arranged that we would gather for a group breakfast the first morning.  There was my friend, boy scout  mom, making some fantastic thing in some fancy pie maker jobs over the fire.  Over there was my friend, pioneer woman, making some biscuits for the crowd, over a fire.  Another friend, natural woman, stirring the sausage gravy to go with the biscuits over a fire.  Bacon fried, sausage sizzled.  It was a glorious but chilly morning.  Husband and I plopped a box of donuts on the table and asked about coffee.  Oh, it’s over there...by the fire. 

To say we were newcomers to this camping deal would be the proverbial understatement of understatements.  We were so ill equipped food-wise, blanket-wise, and fire-wise.  We slept in a little hut and heard mice run ALL night long.  We were miserable and fatigued. It was creepy and cold and the best weekend our little family ever had!  

I thought of that great Memorial Day camping adventure as I looked out over my yard tonight, waiting for my gas grilled hobos to finish.  I remembered us as young families.  Goodness, how times and lives have changed.   I think of some of my favorite girls, now moms of their own growing families.  They were so silly and I loved them all so very much.  My “group” of young men. Goodness, what fun.  

Sometimes I think I want to camp.  To hit the open road, to set up a spot and relax.  Foil packets of meat and potatoes do that to me.