"Gram" - a Word for Love

Today is the birthday of my maternal grandmother, Agnes Timmons Leeper.  I lost both my grandfathers when I was very young, and "Gram," as we called her, was the most active grandparent in my life. Beset by tragedy in the prime of her life, she lived many years in our family home.

Gram was from the "old days."  She grew up riding horses and a visit to the nearby city (40 miles on mountain roads) was a rare adventure that took at least a couple of days by horse and buggy.  She worked hard as a young adult, cooking in logging camps and hotels and I've often said my love of cooking for crowds was genetically pre-determined as both my grandmothers were legendary group cooks!  She finally got to settle in as a housewife when my Granddad landed a good job as the manager of the grain warehouse.  A lady of her time, she never wore slacks until the 1970s or maybe 1980s and even then, wore them with stockings and under duress in only the coldest of weather; it was scandalous to her.

When I was 4 or 5, we drove the 1000 miles or so to visit my grandparents.  Gram was relatively young back then, in her 40s, and she showed us a good time.  Before the state had cut paths through the ancient, glacier formed mountains and  leveled all the roads, the roads in that part of the country were very hilly.  Gram took us to the county seat by back roads in her standard car; she'd shift into neutral on the way down the hills and the car would speed up faster and faster.  When we hit the bottom of the hill and started up the other side, our stomachs would flip just like on a roller coaster.   Just before the car slowed to a crawl, she'd shift the car into the gear, the car would roar to life, and climbing the next big hill, we'd start all over again. I credit Gram with my love for the thrill ride!

They lived in their family home still, and had chickens running around outside. I was a city girl --we lived in Boulder, Colorado back then -- and this was my initiation to rural life.  Grandma went outside and caught a chicken for a special dinner. She worked efficiently but learning where my dinner originated made a lasting impression me. That was a wonderful visit; I can still see her making pies in her kitchen, the counter covered with flour, the window vining with plants; I can smell the bread rising and see her standing shoulder to shoulder with my mom, then in her 20s, both of them adorned with aprons and laughing together.

Shortly after our visit, the unthinkable happened. My grandfather committed suicide. Grandma, unable to cope with her loss, was eventually given a common mental-health treatment of the day, shock treatment. Seen with today's lenses, the treatment seems primitive and cruel.  Back then, it's just how things were done.

After her treatment, she came to live with us. I know this was hard on my parents as she was like a toddler afterward; she had to re-learn all her adult skills, including self-care, and it broke my mother's heart. That said, this was back in the day when parents protected their children from adult problems and nothing my parents said or did ever indicated to me that they were struggling. For me, Gram living in our house was pure joy. She was fun and silly and all love to me. Grandma had not been raised to hug a lot or say she loved you, but she showed it in myriad ways.  We had adventures together and having her in our home was a great joy of my childhood.  When she moved back to Idaho, I thought my heart would never heal.

She was a woman of character too and fiercely defended all her grandchildren and grands-in-law. When word reached me that one of my cousins was getting divorced, I mentioned it to Gram. She said, "Well, no one had better say anything bad about her (my cousin's spouse). We loved her when she was married to him and we will love her now." That stuck with me.  I am sure I personally disappointed her many times but she showed nothing but encouragement to me.

When I was a young adult and lived for a time nearby, we had a number of adventures together. I loved spending time with her because she was a hoot!  Just as my kids love toast with jam because it is a treat my parents share with them, I love toast with cinnamon sugar and coffee with milk and sugar because Gram made it for me every time I entered her home. When I moved back to Texas, I missed her terribly and I felt so guilty for leaving her. I was a selfish 20-something then but I realize now, it must have hurt her so.

It's hard for me to believe she's been gone 15 years.  The last time I saw her, very shortly before her death, she had been confused and unreachable for several days. I lived 2200 miles away so had not seen her in a couple of years. She lay in the nursing home, unmoving and mostly unresponsive. Mom warned me that she had been very confused and likely would not recognize or remember me. When I walked into her room with 1 year old Pepper in my arms, she reached for my arms, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, "I never thought I'd see you again."  It melted my heart.

While I'm past old enough to be a grandma, I haven't reached that stage of life yet. When I get there, I hope I can be as loving to my grandkids as Grandma was.

Happy birthday, Gram.  I miss you every day.

[The cute 11 year old on the left is my grandma.  I now see how much my cousin Kelly has her smile!]

Still Learning - Resolution Reboot

It's almost 4 weeks into the new year and time to check in on my New Year's Resolutions.  If you are now smacking yourself in the forehead and saying, "Oh, yeah, New Years resolutions," maybe it's time for a resolution reboot for yourself!

This year I made a new set of 6-word Resolutions, and 4 weeks later, I still think they fit:

Quiet: Take time every day to listen

Exercise: 2 hours, 6 days, every week

Nourish: Food that feeds me body and soul

Play:  Time each day with each one

Love:  Notice resistance, be myself, embrace vulnerability

Serve: Offer what I have freely, frequently

I am rocking my "quiet time."  I have some specifics to my plan which include a minimum of 10 minutes each for meditation, life-giving reading, and journal writing, as well as structured processing and daily Mass 5 days a week.  If this sounds like a lot to you, just imagine how noisy my world is and you can imagine that I may need a bit more structured quiet time than some do. 

I am doing stellar with "Serve" right now - and all it implies - and am pleased at my sudden willingness to be very discerning about the ways in which I serve; I am focusing on what is most in line with my purpose in life. I am hitting about 80% on "play" too and have a good eye on my stumbling blocks so I am on track for improvement.

Exercise and nourishing food are my current sticking points. It's not that it's too much for my body, it's my mind that is struggling. My (false) mind talk is, "You shouldn't have to work this hard. It's not fair." And the very dangerous and alluring, "You deserve a break. You've been working so hard." Yes, this is where I get into trouble. It's a vortex and once it has sucked me in, I have to struggle against the inertia to get back out.  You are familiar with Newton's First Law of Motion, right? Each day I am recommitting and looking at what happened this time. I keep reminding myself, "It's one more time, it's not too many times."

I am closing in on the false beliefs that are tripping me up, but I'm still a bit in the dark about it. As a child, I visited Mammoth Caves, a National Park in Kentucky. Our guide led us deeper and deeper into the dark and cold cavern and then at one point, all the lights were extinguished. At first, I could not see my hand (literally) in front of my face.  Eventually, though, my eyes adjusted and I began to see the light. I could not make out what I was seeing, at first -- it was just a series of grayish blobs --but soon I recognized that it was the far end of the "gallery" in which we were standing. As I relaxed and put some breath in my body, I was able, slowly, to know I was seeing some formations on that far wall, illuminated by some source of daylight beyond the corner.

That's about where I am in untangling those deeply rooted falsehoods that are keeping me down.  It  ties to my fifth resolution, especially, "embrace vulnerability." In my work, I can see how as a very young child I made a determination to be self reliant. While self-reliance can be an admirable trait, in can also be what deludes me into thinking that "I am in charge" and that I can control things which, frankly, are beyond my control. I'm getting closer to that source of light and can sense a breakthrough right around the corner.

In the meantime, I am very grateful for my resolutions. For me, it's not about being 100% all the time; I'd probably be thinking they were too easy were that the case! Some years, I find they are too ambitious and need to course correct; for now, that is not the case. Instead, these resolutions -- conscious choices, if you will -- are the way in which I am discovering my opportunities for growth.  Trying and succeeding, as well as trying and failing, are the proof that I am alive, still learning, still growing, on an onward course of discovery.

No matter what happens today, that knowledge will be enough tomorrow to "pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again." Ah.

Resolutionary Manifesto

It's New Year's Eve and I sit on the peak, only hours away from the fresh start, the clean slate, and square one; the new opportunity of a brand-spanking-new year.  If you've known me more than a minute, you'll recognize I'm the optimistic sort that truly relishes the new beginning.

Thus, I'm also a "Resolutionist" - the type of person who uses that blank page to write in a new me in the form of resolutions -- or more precisely, disciplines -- that will guide my plans and actions in the new year.  Some years my resolutions have been stringent, precise, and exacting. On other years I've chosen to be more vague, leaving room for interpretation as I travel the year-long path.  Last year, I remained mindful of my resolutions through the long and winding journey of 12 months; many times they are discarded after Easter either by choice or unconsciousness.

For the first time in a while, I'm turning the page on the calendar with a fresh face. I set out to have a conscientious Advent season and I think I succeeded; I find myself in the middle of the Christmas season and at the end of the year with a clearer idea of what will support me in the months to come.

Our home is a cacophany of joyous (or not) noise and activity all day long.  It's a surprisingly strenuous task to direct this busy household and support 6 other people.  I'd not trade it for piles of gold and yet I freely admit, it's the most difficult role I've ever held.

I've realized that in addition to my completely sincere and essential (though oft stated) plans to exercise and eat healthfully, what is most needed in my Resolutionary Manifesto for 2013 is frequent opportunity for quiet, reflection, meditation, processing and a deep breath.

During the time of preparation that is Advent, I have been faithful to a minimum of 30 minutes a day of quiet meditation (often much more) and it is bearing fruit in me already.  I feel deeply revived.  I feel settled in my body and my legs are strong beneath me.  Don't get me wrong, I am stressed more often than I wish I were, but I more quickly recognize it, take the deep breath, regroup and/or apologize.  I see more and I feel more so I love more.  It's simple.  Maintenance of this time of prayer and reflection is my utmost priority in 2013. If I do not mention it again, please ask me how it's going.

Here is my six-word resolution for this year:

Quiet: Take time every day to listen

Exercise: 2 hours, 6 days, every week

Nourish: Food that feeds me body and soul

Play:  Time each day with each one

Love:  Notice resistance, be myself, embrace vulnerability

Serve: Offer what I have freely, frequently

Perhaps you will have a moment in the next 24 hours to take a deep breath for yourself, consider the year just past, then joyfully rip off the cover of the new calendar and write down some of your hopes and dreams. May your new year be your most Resolutionary ever!

Cheers.

Putting my (Social Justice) Money Where my Mouth Is

A while back, I heard that the mayor of Phoenix was going to eat on a "food stamps" budget for a week.  The same week while grocery shopping, someone commented to me that a product was expensive and said, "but you just buy whatever you want without regard to price."

I replied that I was buying it for a treat, for dessert, and it was an extravagance.  (It was organic fresh squeezed orange juice, just in case you're thinking caviar or something!)

The comment bugged me though.  I noticed I felt defensive and kept wanting to come back to the conversation and somehow defend myself.  I didn't.  Instead, I took to the "work" book and wrote my heart out, taking a closer look at it.  I uncovered that defensiveness right away and under it, guilt, and under that, fear.  The guilt was about being a poor steward, not only of Dear Hubby's hard-earned wages, but more, of our ample blessings.  And we are blessed.  The fear was that my kids might not get what they want, or need, or (worse in my mind's eye -- not reality) that they might think I didn't love them.  

But beneath all that was something else, something more.  I had bigger purposes lurking beneath that rancid pool of dark water.  I have a purpose to feed my children a wide variety of whole, healthy food; I want them to think about food as a sensory experience, a loving experience, and a family experience.  I want them to know that healthy food is good food too.

There was another intention too, beating soundly and slowly beneath it all.  I have chosen to be a good steward.  I want to share good things with my children, yes, but with others as well.  I want the money I save through sales, coupons, planning and compromise to be used to help others.  So many are hurting and hungry.  It's my intention to share.

Then and there, in recollection of my larger purposes, I resolved to take more time in planning, reading sales and shopping to get the reasonable values.   The Governor's story, too, resonated with me and I talked to family about it.  I explained there would be little or no eating out and that even our choices at the grocery store would be affected. Together we decided to try a week on a food stamps budget and we chose this week, the week before Christmas.  We have a big Italian feast planned for Christmas Eve so we chose this final week of Advent to practice more frugality.

At the outset, I was nervous.  Could we do it?  I had no idea.  Pepper helped me plan a cost-saving menu and as we shopped, we were both nervous.  It took so long.  We normally pay attention to prices when we shop, but this week we had extra pressure.  We were seeking to feed our family of 7 on $225 a week.  Clearly, some choices were out; we decided to forgo our favorite Clementine oranges ($3.50/pound) for an 18# bag of grapefruit for only $7.  Almost nothing we purchased was name brand as the budget couldn't afford it.  The Captain's school meals ate up $10. My organic salad greens are nearly twice as much as the standard kind but I argued for them and prevailed.  "It's lettuce," I whined, "so full of pesticide and the Littles love it. It's necessity not luxury"  It was challenging.

4 days in and I have to say, it's actually wonderful.  I did not realize how much money we threw away on needless luxuries each day, things that do not enhance our quality of life.  The way that we eat, cooking most things from scratch, does make food more affordable.  We will finish the week, I'm happy to say, with money leftover. [To learn about what we ate on this budget, check out this  Bright Love  post]. Pepper thinks the government should invest some money in teaching people to cook because "its' healthier and cheaper too."  It's a valid point.

That said, no extras were included in our week.  No Christmas stocking candy, no desserts for birthday parties or school.  I allowed limited school lunches and no eating out for anyone.  The girls did eat out, but on their own dime (both painful and eye opening for them!) We also took advantage of our larder.  We ate a roast we cooked and froze a while back, a whole chicken we got free, and a surprise offering of a bean pot from my mother in law.  Without these, we'd have barely broken even. Economy of scale helped a lot too. And I found it very stressful. Feeding a family with consciousness is hard; firm financial constraints definitely increase the pressure.

Our take away is that we need a longer experiment to fully appreciate the difficulties in having such limits on our food dollar.  I am proposing that we conduct the experiment for the entirety of Lent, this time with no-one eating out unless it comes from the budget.  It may be a hard sell, but I have an adventurous crew, I think they'll go for it.  It will make our Easter joy that much fuller, especially our appreciation for the bountiful choices we have about how we eat.

On Monday, we will brave the Christmas Eve crowds to go as a family to the grocery store with $75 and fill bags with groceries for the food pantry. [Post publication edit:  we actually spent a little less and bought a large grocery gift card for a friend in need.]  This will be our Christmas offering when we head to Mass at 6:00 PM.  I promise you this, as we sit down to our feast on Christmas Eve after church, I will be expressing gratitude for the moment of  good fortune that bore me into my particular family and I think the rest will feel the same. I wish to take nothing away from how very hard my parents worked (and Dear Hubby's too) to clothe and feed us.  They were magnificent in providing for us.  Yet we are also extremely blessed.  Please remind me if I ever forget.

Merry Christmas.

Why I Haven't Shampooed My Hair in 8 Months

It's not as gross as it sounds.  If you know me in real life, you know that for years I have suffered with a skin allergy that turns my forehead a bright, scaly red. It has to do with my messed up auto-immune system and by the way, I also have a serious dandruff issue.   In the past 10 years, I've made many visits to the dermatologist and paid hundreds of dollars for special shampoos, ointments, etc.  It all helps a little but my best results so far had been a lessening of symptoms.  I tried changing my diet, sleeping more, exercising more or less, washing my face more, you name it, I've tried it.

Early in the year I was going through a particularly bad season of "the mark" but was having really good results with my home-made skin cream.  I started wondering what people washed their hair with in the old days.  It turns out they used baking soda.  Since my allergy was already so bad, I figured I didn't have much to lose.  I read a couple of articles to get the solution right, started using baking soda to wash my hair and vinegar in the rinse and I've never looked back.

Not only is my allergy the best it's ever been, sometimes it completely goes away for weeks on end.  Not only that, it is 10 times easier than shampooing.  In case you, like me, are turning into some version of pioneer/hippy and want to try it for yourself, here's the scoop.

Dilute 1 Tblsp of Baking Soda in 1 Cup Warm Water ( I double it in a big cup)

Dump the whole works on your dry head and gently massage your scalp.  If you let it sit two or three minutes it works better.

Rinse.

Dilute 2 tsps. of apple cider vinegar in 1 cup warm water. (For dark hair.  For light hair, see note* below)

Dump it on.
Rinse.  You can also put it in a spray bottle and spritz it on but then, obviously, you don't rinse so the smell hangs on a bit longer.

You're done.  It's quicker than shampooing and since you can buy the ingredients any where, no need to pack it when you travel.  I keep the baking soda in a travel container in my "to go" makeup bag.  It doesn't hurt your eyes so I use it on the kids too. Of course it's also really inexpensive

You can skip the vinegar but it does lay the cuticle down nicely.  My hair and scalp have never felt better . . . and I do smell a bit like a salad at times.

A few reminders:  Don't use white vinegar, it's too harsh.  Always dilute the vinegar in water; it's too strong alone.  Don't mix the baking soda solution and the vinegar solution or you just wind up with salt water.

*For light hair, use lemon juice instead of vinegar.

My hair has never looked better but you'll have to take my word for it because pictures of me are few and far between and I couldn't find one except from my recent trip in which it was coated with hair spray!  So sorry about the hair spray but I had flown until midnight and gotten up early!  So here I am with my friend Lea-Ann