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“Mmmmmmm, Sheri, I like these sweet potato fries.”
*Said in delight*
“Good! I think a lot of people are going to like them, make sure customers know that we have them.”
*Said with assurance*
“Oh yeah! And they’re probably much better for you than regular fries… right?”
*Said in Great Hope*
“Andi. I don’t think anything is healthy for you once it has been deep fried.
I don’t think broccoli would be healthy if you deep fried it.
Sorry.”
*Dejection*
Today was such a lovely thing to have lived through. The sun was warm and my Love and I went for a long walk down a back road and collected weed skeletons. It was perfect and made me long for Spring.
Then, I come here to my “Blogging Home” (as WordPress so comfortably calls it) and find that I have been given the Versatile Blogger Award.
Oh my.
And who nominated me? My Versatile friend, Girl Friday from Girl Friday Makes Good.
I stumbled on Rachel’s lovely blog back when we were both still residing at our old blogspots through our mutual love of old movies and film noir. I think I was her first follower and absolutely fell in love with her sweet, humorous outlook on life. I commented *extensively* and before long we were penpals. Boy Howdy how things have changed in the months that followed! I started dating a handsome young police officer in our town. She started marketing her lovely Girl Friday Bags online and at local farmer’s markets. (I still want one, Rachel…) I fell in love with the before mentioned young man. Rachel took a brief blogging break while dealing with the loss of a beloved friend. I didn’t think I would ever write again after accidentally erasing my entire blog, then I married the fella I had fallen in love with (the only reasonable, rational ending to such a chain of events). And now- here we are, madly in love with our husbands, both blogging at WordPress, sharing an award for being our versatile selves.
Thanks, dear Girl Friday- I have so enjoyed getting to know you! You’re the best ;-p
So what are the requirements for this? (besides being Fully Awesome)
1. You must give thanks. To the one who gave you the award, that is, and link back to their site in your acceptance speech. (see above post)
2. You must share 7 things about yourself with the class. (keep reading)
3. Pass the award on to *other* bloggers. (I believe it’s supposed to be 9 or 15, but I don’t know that many, I’ll do my best…)
4. Contact the bloggers you awarded and let them know that THEY’VE WON!! (Surprise!! Make sure to bring confetti and the keys to their new car… just kidding. There’s no new car. Sorry.)
Here are some Fabulous Blogs you must Check Out:
Pie in the Sky – newly-wed, still glowing bride Grace writes about their adventures in marriage, life and love. Absolutely sweet and inspiring.
Life as a Story – 23 year old wordsmith and college student, MC ‘puts the cosmos of his mind down on a page’. Excellent reading if you need something to think about….
Life, in Recipes– an awesome foodie website I could spend too much time reading….
Becoming Madame– lovely, lovely, lovely. For those of us who would go to Paris 🙂
So, there are only four of them. Looks like I need to find some more friends in the WordPress neighborhood, eh?
And, as required, here are the Seven Things you are dying to know about Me.
1. I want to travel to California someday with Alex a) to visit my brother-in-law Thane, and b) to visit Girl Friday
2. My dream car is actually a 1960s Chevy pickup truck. Butter yellow. Oh yeah.
3. I love argyle socks. A lot.
4. I am a self-diagnosed (and others-confirmed) obsessive compulsive list maker.
5. My husband thinks I have a pretty singing voice. I married a good man.
6. If I could choose any superpower, I would pick being able to heal people at will. Or, I would go with the ability to eat as much as I wanted without getting too fat. I know, kinda rides both ends of the spectrum there, just pretend I only shared the super-humanitarian one, ok?
7. As much as I am a devoted list maker, I am fascinated by, but rather allergic to making lists of things about myself.
So there you are, I am going to go now and figure out how to affix this lovely bit of colored badge to my sidebar.
Tootles,
me
I enrolled.
I like words that begin with ‘en’. Enlighten. Envision. Entrapment. Encasement. Enrollment.
I enrolled in a free, online creative writing course for aspiring freelance writers. (I also like words that start with ‘free’)
I aspire, therefore I park myself in front of my husband’s computer for some odd chunk of a morning hour and revisit my highschool days of note-taking and pre-test sweats. So far so good, the instructor approved of my sketchy introductory paragraph, hopefully she approves of my latest literary triumph- a one hundred word mini-essay on the difference between fiction and nonfiction writing. It’s very simple, easier to describe in ten words than a hundred:
one form is real (nonfiction) and one is not (fiction).
Oh my.
I am a questioning person. I can’t think of a single moment in my life that has not been examined and pondered and questioned to the utmost of my ability.
In my days, I have asked and sought out the answers to many questions great and small, profound and ridiculous, vital and peripheral.
“What does mud taste like?”
“How did my eyebrows get to be so dang vicious and ambitious?”
“What does grass taste like?”
“Where would I end up if I just started walking, following the telephone wires?”
“Does God really exist?”
“Does He love me?”
“If I jump hard enough, can I fly?”
“Should I take algebra?”
“Why must there be war?”
“Why don’t all the rich people give their money to poor children?”
“What if I am not strong enough?”
“What if I can’t stop crying?”
“Did dragons exist?”
“What do you think”
“Am I crazy?”
“What’s the Queen’s last name?”
“What is the point?”
“What about spontaneous combustion?”
“Why am I afraid?”
“What *really* happens if you kiss a frog?”
Or, my perennial favorite;
“What would this taste like deep-fried?”
I write a lot of my ponderings down in journals, on blackboards, scraps of paper or even in the dirt beside the sidewalk, wonderings left for others to take up and think for a while. As life changes, so do the questions. The older I get, the more direct and complex they become, the less time I have to really sit and wonder whether or not my toad will turn into a prince. I need good, strong questions that will bring me sturdy, faithful answers. What about love? Should I keep this job? What happens if I fail? How do I show kindness to this person? How do I know the truth? What happens if I am not sure? What happens if I don’t find the right answer? What happens if there is no answer? What then?
In a way, that’s all life is, a series of questions. Some of them you have to answer, some of them you must ask. Each day begins with a question, each dawn gently but persistently interrogates our hours and asks us what will be. Each event demands a response- our answer. Will you harden, will you break, will you bend or shift or give or love or hate or live or die, or won’t you? The wills and the whys and the hows and the whats surround each breath we take and life is waiting- what will the answer be?
I met a young man who seems to be as questioning as I. We have talked for hours, days, weeks, months, mostly asking and answering questions- hundreds of them. We swore to be honest, we promised to be fair even if it was painful or we didn’t get the answer we desired. Nearly any and every query or quandary ever dangled in front of my mind has at some point been dissected and discussed. “Dogs or no dogs?” “What about children?” “What about homeschooling?” “Cow or no cow?” “Town or country?” “Dragons? Frogs? Goats? Maine?” “Wood stove or gas?”
Notes were taken, lists made to make sure no question was ignored, and through all the answerings and askings, I began to love the wondering soul behind his dark eyes, walking beside me on the road, or sitting with me on the couch. I started to see questions we had in common, answers we were both looking for- a fellow Asker. I saw inquiries we had made in our separate lives which had produced kindred results- a fellow Answerer. I started to ask different questions- no longer issues swarming around a nucleus of “Could I possibly live with this man for the rest of my life?” but very strongly, very surely, “What life could there be *without* him? What could the ‘rest of my life’ possibly be if he is not in it?”
He began to ask different questions as well. “Silver, or gold?” “Big or small?” “Diamond, or no diamond?” “Bridesmaids, or no bridesmaids?” “Winter or Spring?”
Then, one warm evening after we walked and talked over that day’s batch of inquiries, he turned and asked me perhaps the simplest, strongest, most direct question of my life after, “Will you accept Christ?”, and that was-
“Will you marry me?”
What a question.
Yes, I will. The answer is Yes.
Through all the questions that life will ask of us, through all the demands and decisions, Yes. Through the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘how evers’ and the ‘what fors’ – Yes. Through all the good times when answers are sweet and warm and easy- Yes. Through all the rough times when we won’t be sure, we won’t know, we can’t find answers or don’t like the ones given to us- it will still be Yes.
I look forward to a life of questing and searching and seeking and rejoicing in what is found. Every question has an answer and I look forward to hunting them down side by side with this man who has asked me to be his.
So there you have it, folks. That’s the answer.
We did it. We went mainstream. We went real time. We went all out.
We have a Facebook page.
Check it out.
(go ahead, it’s the little widget to the right…..)
Sincerely,
– me
Aha. I am signing myself up for the Naked Face Challenge.
You got it, peeps. I will let my face live nakedly- no make up, no fancy-shmancy editing (which I can’t do anyway- but I thought I would throw it in there) and no bashing on the way my face looks. Ever. Again. No bashing. Ever. You’ve got to keep me accountable with this one.
I have never *really* been one for a lot of makeup, I’ve never liked all the fuss’n’nonsense that goes along with it and I have a horrific habit of touching my face- all the time- and when you wear makeup that means you have a horrific habit of looking like your ink didn’t dry all the way when you came out of the printer that morning. And yet, that doesn’t mean that I have been kind to my visage. That doesn’t mean that I don’t daily glare into the mirror and wish that there was *something* makeup could do to change how I look. I think my face has an awful hard job dealing with the critical person who lives behind it, and I think I need to stop being such a creep. Really.
SO, I guess, more than a ‘no-makeup-commitment’, this is a ‘love my naked face’ commitment, because really, that’s the point after all. It isn’t the makeup, it’s the attitude that’s poisonous, at least for me.
My boss, who is an amazingly eclectic and slightly eccentric person, told me her perspective on makeup the other day and it really got me thinking.
“You know Andi- I think wearing makeup is a socially acceptable form of lying. We’ve been doing it for so long nobody thinks anything of it- but stop and think about it. I mean, really, what’s everybody trying to hide anyway? Like nobody’s gonna know everyone else has got acne and blotches and pale lips and dark circles under their eyes. Get Real! That’s what I say.”
That’s what she said.
It’s not that I am never going to wear make-up again (especially when I’m wanting to NOT look like some washed-out Caribbean Zombie come December) it’s that I am going to stop raking my naked face over the coals.
So There.
I Promise to be more kind and loving to my naked face, taking care of it, but not obsessing over it. I Promise to let pictures be taken of myself *without* all the drama of dreading how horrible I am going to look in them- I will smile and say cheese and let it go. I promise to stop making fun of my smile, or the way that one eye squints up in a pirate-like fashion. I Promise to be thankful for my dark skin in the summer, and my pale skin in the winter- not everybody gets the chance to be two-toned. I Promise to recognize that God gave me this face… and I should think accordingly.
Anybody joining me?
Read Deanna’s thoughts on the subject at her blog, Delirious Rhapsody and then join up!
As promised, there are some new items in the shop! * And this is just the beginning, folks!*
It’s time for cooler weather- at least here in Vermont, and my mind is trying to reacquaint itself with the idea of *snow* and *below freezing temperatures*. It’s been a little hard for me to plan winter projects during weather which lends itself to suntans and barbeques, but as the breezes have chilled and the nights glisten in undecided frost, I have been able to actually think in terms of wool and warmth.
I’ve added some pairs of fingerless gloves, as well as two absolutely gorgeous pillows that my Mom designed and created using second-hand wool sweaters and appliques. I love how autumnal they are, and so cozy! Makes me want to curl up with a cup of hot cider and read a good book of old poems.
The Chunky Rustic Mug Sweaters are back in stock thanks to some long nights of knitting 🙂 and I am working on several new designs to be introduced in the next couple of weeks!
Alright- I must run!
Take Care, don’t forget to go slow and use the good soap ;-p
– Ann
My arm is in a sling.
My *RIGHT* arm is in a sling.
This is the arm that I live with.
Life is on pause until further notice.
The latest development here at Washboard Storms is my incredibly interesting, but terribly obnoxious injured arm. This is a real bummer because the recent flooding here in the Northeast has hastened the arrival of Autumn and I am itching to be knitting.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of knitting. I love the rhythmic loop upon loop, stitch on stitch, fabric being formed right there in front of you. Oh my. I miss it so.
But- onward- getting the old arm fixed is next up on my to-do list and then I will have the entirety of our long Vermont winter to knit my heart out.
Will Cook For Food 
