Have you ever?

Have you ever baked granola in the afternoon?


I've made it in the morning, when I wished it would hurry up and finish cooking because I was hungry and ready to scarf it down.

And I've made it in the evening, yawning away the ten minute intervals between stirs, wishing that I had finished this particular chore earlier that day.

The afternoon is the best, I think. It has the same sort of yummy guilt about it that a nap after lunch does. Everyone else is slaving away at a desk, and here I am, stirring a pan full of crispy, golden, cinnamon-scented oats.

I use this recipe from David Leibovitz, who in turn got it from Nigella Lawson. I've also used this one from Orangette, a crispy granola dotted with dark chocolate chunks (it sounds too decadent, but trust me, it's just decadent enough). Both are lovely, but the first makes two (two!) pounds worth, which is even lovelier.

running

Dinner is prepped: kale chopped, chicken shredded, eggs separated, garlic and onions diced.

Laundry is mid-cycle.

Bills are paid.

House is... neat enough.

And now? To breathe. To veg?

No: Elias is awake, just now. He wakes up now saying "nooo" in a whiny voice. I understand. I say the same thing to myself every afternoon when he wakes up, and all I want to do is "noooo"thing.

My desk in front of me is full of things on the to-do list. A bag filled with a homemade paper mobile for Elias' room that needs to be strung up. An empty ceramic pot, to be filled with basil for my kitchen counter, someday. I've had it for a year. A book on gardening, with info that needs to be siphoned off by me for Jeremy to build some raised garden beds. Curtain rings, for the kitchen curtains. A knit hat that's come unraveled and needs some help from my own mom. And photo albums and E's first year book that need filling out. He's 18 months.

I would need to have the force of a tornado to get through everything on my list. Is this why women are so tired? Not only do they have the days and weeks behind them, to which their energy has already been directed, our will to survive shot like a garden hose at our days, but we have the should-have-dones. The wish-was-finisheds. The oh-gosh-I-forgot-about-thats. It gnaws at me... I imagine it gnaws at most of us.

I don't have an answer for it. I think it will be something I deal with until the day I die. I never understood the idea before now that there wasn't enough time in the day. There certainly is enough time in the day for a teenager, but for an adult? No: whether it's our own fault or someone else's, we just can't get finished.

Some days I have peace with this idea. But not today.

lucky girl

I'm so hard on myself. I'm finding more and more that the way that I speak to myself and think about myself is actually pretty rough, and even, I imagine, harmful.

How am I understanding this? Because of the way my husband talks to me. So often I feel like I'm a horrible person, one who makes really poor decisions out of selfish desire and low self-esteem. One who can't get it right, no matter how hard I try. And then Jeremy speaks to me, and he sounds so completely different than the voice inside my head, who's calling me an absolute idiot.

In fact, Jeremy's voice, his kindness and grace that is spoken to me when I'm down, sounds so much like God's voice. His is the voice of comfort, and forgiveness, and kindness when I'm feeling at my worst. And in that kindness, He gives me Jeremy, to over and again emphasize to me just how good He is to me. And how much He likes me.

When Jeremy and I were first married, I started having something like panic attacks thinking about his death. We've already established that I'm morbid, yes? I just kept thinking about what a comfort Jeremy is to me. It's indescribable, really, that sense of warmth and safety and comfort that he brings to my heart. And to think of losing that... Anyway, some friends were praying for me, and for a minute during, their voices faded out, and His came in loud and clear: that He was the one who brought Jeremy to be that comfort to me. It's been Him all along. And if Jeremy were to be gone--and someday he really will be--God will bring that comfort to me in another way. Because it's Him that is my comfort. Jeremy is just the one He's using right now to bring it to me.

Anyway, I'm only really thinking about this because I bought a $15 mirror at Target just now, and money is just so tight, and I was sick about it ever since I put it in the cart. And then I had to tell Jeremy what I had done. And what did he say after I had verbally abused myself all the way home, vowing to return it?

"Okay."

Okay?

And that was it. I could have just cried a little; it was such a relief to hear a note of grace after all the other garbage in my mind.

And so I'm feeling thankful for a good husband, and a kind God, and that I get to live this life with both of them by my side. Thankful, thankful, thankful.

goals, however small

Fall has certainly arrived here. It's gotten so much cooler this week, and it's been cloudy and rainy for days now. Now, I'm not one to balk at a rainy, gray day, but... Well, maybe I am a little bit. Gray days seem to be more fun for selfish activities: cups of tea sweetened with honey, romantic comedies from the nineties in the dvd player, naps on the couch. None of these things happened today; well, I guess the tea and honey happened, but I ended up guzzling it, lukewarm, after I finished feeding Elias and before I gulped down my own dinner. Not really the effect I was going for.

I like this season (and the one that follows it) because it feels so warm and cozy. That is, it feels warm and cozy if one has a home that is warmly lit, full of lovely cooking smells and festive decorations. I think the only thing I've got going for this place right now are the cooking smells, and those aren't so lovely right now because of the whole head of rotting garlic I foolishly chose to put down the garbage disposal instead of the trash can. Oh. my. Two days later, and it's still going strong.

So my goal for the next thirty days is to get two little crafty things done for the house: put up some twinkly lights, make a garland, what-have-you. And all of you, the whole two people that read my blog, are welcome to call me out if you don't see proof of them here. And if I didn't write it here, and make it a goal, there is more than a very good possibility that you'd hear me complaining about the lack of holiday swag again four weeks from now.

Also in the next month's activities: get camping supplies ready for our church's retreat next weekend, survive next weekend without my little boy :-( , get ready for said little boy's first birthday party (with a homemade pinata, and a mess of cake), get his room ready, get answers ready for the people who have and who will ask me what to get E for his birthday, finish the curtains for downstairs plus a million other little sewing projects that I'd like to get finished (without a sewing machine), etc., etc. In addition, Jeremy is having to work more hours (for $), and I'm having to cook more (because of $). So, it'll be busy.

And yes, two pieces of holiday swag in the next 4 weeks. It's do-able. 'Cause I'm gonna do it.