Dads. War. Lemon Jam.

We have all heard the statement before.

"When life gives you lemons you make lemonade."

Other statements we have heard sound like this: "When life gives you lemons squeeze them in your hair and go surf!" or "When life hands you lemons make Limoncello!" or this is always a good philosophy quote, "When life gives you lemons grab the tequila and call the girls!" BUT first we hit that emotional crap that says "When life hands you lemons ... squirt them in people eyes!" There is nothing more satisfing at times than a little evil thoughts that bring a little vengence. If we are not careful though those little thoughts turn into a fifth of tequila, a serious hangover and clothes strung out all over the place.  :)

The boyfriend and I were handed a couple of lemons in our life times, our fathers. Some times it seems like those lemons get carried around with us everywhere we go. Want to emphasis this. Evvverrrywheerre we goooo. (Insert eye roll here). This morning one of the lemons resurfaced in the realization that the boyfriends father now has a Facebook profile. Really all I could come up with for a text statement was ... eventually everyone will end up on Facebook. My father also has a profile but he never goes on the darns thing. It would make things a lot easier if he did since he likes to call and ask how things are going but if he would just look at my profile then things would be less cumbersome on the phone.

Just realized how awful that sounded when the best thing really is a personal touch instead of the digital world taking over our lives. In this case though it would make things easier. You can probably see the tension in the air even as you read this. The relationship hasn't been great. Here is a quick history: He left. Mom was pissed. My life crumbled. There enough said about that. So for years of course I had to hear about the evil things my father did or stood for, had to listen to my mom belly ache about everything. As a teenager going into high school the last thing I needed was a messed up relationship that was going to drag me from one state to another for summer or holiday vacations. Needless to say I was a hot mess. one letter was written by me to him informing him that for the time being it would be best to stay away. I couldn't handle the drama. There was a 10 pound lemon bag that was draggin my ass to the ground all the freakin' time. Little did I know at the time of the war that was raging ... not only inside of me but also around me.

Years went by and I finally figured out that the bag of lemons were getting a bit moldy and needed some serious attention. The little net bag had lost its paper label and the lemons were a bit sorry looking. Wasn't until recently that a solution to the lemon problem surfaced and a reasonable explanation could fix it all. Wasn't until a couple years ago that I was able to think clearly about the cure for this little lemon sack.

Thank God for His patience.
Yes, He waited.

Trust me, I had my fair share of tequila and girl nights. Honestly, the clothes never got strung all over the place but there were plenty of mornings that were rough. Now that the thinking cap has been screwed on a little straighter things are looking a little more clearly. I have gone through a divorce in my life, ok two, and I get the fact that it takes two to tango but really you are not just dealing with the other person and the other persons attitude or mood swings or the fact that he doesn't listen, doesn't care or whatever excuses you can come up with but you are also fighting those evil little bastards that were handed down all those generations ago. You also come with our own little demons that talk smack and they compete against your partner too, so don't think that you have the perfect package wrapped up in a bright bow! Those freaking little demons that sit on your shoulder daily, hell hourly and "help you make good decisions". Well my middle finger flies up to those little "helpers" They have helped enough. The war that they are raging is unfair and completely uncalled for. They may have preserved that 10 pound lemon sack for all these years but it is time for me to fix them up and figure out a better plan.

That I have. The plan has been set in motion. The plan to heal and to be free is under way and so has Project Lemon Sack. One can really only make so much lemonade before the enamel the teeth starts rotting away. So troubles have started to melt like lemon drops (minus the Vodka). My attitude at this point is SCREW keeping calm and sipping lemonade. It's high time to start squeezing the lemon juice right in the eyes of the "helpers"!!

My solution is to make lemon jam.
Yeah that will teach 'em.

Fumbling through a vintage recipe book the other day and found a quick simple paragraph describing how to make this yummy jam. (Humpf.) My initial thoughts after reading the instructions. You just need a little lemon juice, a pinch of lemon zest, equal amounts of weights for lemons and sugar oh yeah and don't forget to cook it on the stove for hours. Well that really doesn't work for most people so I have fixed the step-by-step process.

Ready?
You are going to get more then you bargained for when you keep reading.
Satisfaction guaranteed.

Now, I am a girl that likes substance. You know the pulp! I love the thick pulp in orange juice too! If you are not a pulp drinker then please by all means strain it out. For me the pulp is the susbstance that adds to the mix. It's the raw material that makes up the whole, it's the problem that needs the solution. It's the part of the whole package and needless to say I love a good challenge so in this case the pulp stays.

Grinding away at the peel of a lemon can get a little weird, reminds me of picking at the scab on your knee from falling down. You want to take it all off so that the bitterness comes out and the sweetness can get on with things. No one wants to hurt, no one wants to bleed and no once wants that sour bitterness to linger in their lives after there is no more need for it. Kinda like the rough peeling of the hardness of our hearts. We could gently peel the layers off like an onion or we could just go straight for the gusto and shred that crap off! So we can pick or in this case we shred the lemon peel for the zest. The recipe called for a pinch, remember? In this jam we will use the peel of four lemons. We will use the total of 8 lemons or if you so choose you could use 12, 16, 32, 89 whatever you want just make sure you double, triple or use the 10x rule when adding the sugar.

Find a pot and fill it with four, count them four cups of water.
One of the four basic ingredients to everything.
Water the life force behind everything.

The one wet substance that thrives to make our lives easier when it comes to washing out the bitterness to the lemon peel or the scrapes on our knees. Salt water maybe the cure for anything that ails us but for this purpose we will only use clean fresh water as the cleansing department for the rinds that we have shred.

Turn the stove on to medium so that the zest and the water have a chance to cook out that nasty bitterness. Let it simmer down while you work on the rest of the lemons. Those precious simmering moments are perfect for thinking. Mindless job of cutting up lemons, squeezing out the juice and separating out the seeds handed quiet moments to think about the time that has been lost because of carrying around this almost moldy 10 pound bag of lemons.

Squeezing the juice reminded me of the bag that was squeezing the life out of body. Separating the seeds out was a good reflection of separating good thoughts from the tough ones. Truth will set us free and thank goodness for the truth that has been coming out through the transformation of this 10 pound lemon bag. Those truth thoughts are the happy makers, the bliss makers.
Working with lemons is tough business. If you have a cut on your finger the juice gets in there and really burns! I kept rubbing my eyes and getting the juice ... well you know what I am saying. So here is my word of caution:
DON'T STICK YOUR FINGER IN YOUR EYE IF THERE IS LEMON JUICE PRESENT.

Back to the pulp or back the real business of fixing up this lemon mess that we were dealt with. We are now at the stage where we can squeeze the juice from the lemons that we just cut in half and that we just shredded the rinds off of. There are many ways to get the juice out. Please by all means use your favorite method. My method was a little unorthodox. I took one half of the lemon in my left hand held it firmly and and squeezed the first parts of the juices out. In my right hand I had my favorite butter knife, I than began to scrape the insides out to free more of the juice but really to get more of the substance out. Then returned the halves back to the cutting board (aka the counter) I sliced them thinly, you know MORE PULP!  Seeds were left to the counter. Must admit though some of them made it into the simmering juice. I did fish them out later.


One of the most impressive ways for me to go at problem is to go straight for the core of the issue. So what! Maybe I like cutting to the chase and using a butter knife is somewhat safe. Somewhat. Safer then a steak knife! My methods of juicing are not recommended in a commercial kitchen setting but hey, I would never be allowed in that type of setting anyways. "Scary!" as the boyfriend would say.

With the four other lemons that are still whole and sitting on the counter I turned to them and cut them in half. Every problem or situation that comes our way always has 8 different sides. Every aspect of our lives are touched. Our emotional health touches are physical well-being which in turn touches are spiritual side that then brings shame that bounces off of us and bothers our social sides. When one side gets left out then the issue really never gets resolved. For instance, my bag of lemons was handed over to me the day I was born. I didn't deserve it, nor did I want it, nor was I raising my hand endlessly, excitedly or beggin for them. The unfairness of it all.

My father passed on family secrets and troubles that he was unaware of and so did my mother. As a few of these "issues"  have been unearthed the healing has begun. The truth is beginning to be revealed and who I am as a person is starting to become more clear. The little "helper demons" are vanishing and the sweetness is beginning to be brought forward with the simmering of the bitterness. What has cause so much bitterness can actually be contributed to more then just my own actions. Do I dare blame my parents? Hell no! Do I blame their parents for passing on poor decision making? Hell no! Could I possibly blame my great, great grandparents for there actions and their part in this whole family torment!? Well that too would be a hell no! Could I blame Eve!? Ooooooooh, how I wish I could but even then the temptations of us all drive us to create our own sacks of lemons.


So I scrap. I scrape the inside of the peel to my hearts content. All the scrapings drop into the steaming pot of zest and water. Zest, juice, and water simmer a little longer trying to rid the pot of the last bit of bitterness.
I don't time anything. As for this project there was no stop clock there was no timer set and gawd forbid I reach over and clear the microwave to see the digital digits of when I started! The recipe did say to cook for a while, remember?

For me the process takes time. It takes the smell of the substance it takes the patience of the slow simmer to reveal the true sweetness. Admittedly, every issue that has come up in life has always boiled down to the slow simmer, the endless thoughts of the what if's or the hours of weed pulling to come to the perfect solution. Yes, it drives people crazy that I don't have an answer right away but for me its about listening. chewing, believing. Have I dreamt of having the perfect relationship with my dad? Well of course I have but the reality sits at this: we are simmering to perfection.


One of the greatest advantages to having 8 sides like a stop sign is this, friendship. We all need a little help now and then to get through the rough patches, to help us get through the sludge that we find ourselves knee deep in and a helper who will just sit and listen. The best ones are the ones that listen and don't talk. Some of the greatest artist, chefs, and structual engineers have people around to help them solve their problems whether it be struggling with the perfect color green for sea water, or the amount of salt to drop in a sauce or finding the perfect balance between water and waste on the ships ballast. Every time I am in the kitchen creating some sweet master piece or just plain dinner I always have my right hand guy!

Buck-roo has heard it all. He is the one black boy that will sit right in the middle of everything and just listen. Of course he likes to throw out his opinions on samples of what's cookin' but most of all during the hardest questions he stares back and just wants more lovin's. Really that is what it all boils down to. We all want more lovin's. We don't need the false help. We don't need the misguided trust of lies. We don't want the crap dished out from our great grandparents. We don't want the hate. We don't want the bitter bite of sourness. We just want love.

So we add the sugar.
2 cups of sugar to be exact.

OR 1 1/2 cups of sugar and half o' cup of honey.
Your choice. We prefer the honey.

While the mixture simmers down and the jammin' up begins we can clean out and sterlize the jars that we need to put the new jam into. Cleaning out the trash of our hearts, cleaning out the spiderwebs of anger, cleaning out he dust of mistrust and years of unbelief helps us understand that there is more to life. There is more to the saying "when troubles melt like lemon drops!" (Thank you IZ for the remake of that amazing song. I will always sing that line.) We can freely step up and sterlize our lives with that fresh clean water and fill our selves with a new sweet substance that everyone will appreciate.


Is this enough? Is 2 cups of sugar really enough? Yes, the magic within the natural pectin of the lemon, the juices and the water mixed with the sweetness of the sugar lovin's all become the perfect solution to the never ending history of problems. All sides of us can let go. We can taste the sweet and let go of the sour. We can enjoy the moments that we are able to create fresh and we can enjoy a little lemon jam on our cornbread. We can finally let go of the netted sack with the lost paper label that was tied around us. We can be free from the tormenting helpers and learn to love the way that were were intended to give loved.

Once the lemons have been mulled over, squeezed and simmered they make the sweetest jam. Most of all we can shelve those lemons for another day. We can share them with friends, we can eat them at feasting time, or we can sit back with our feet up and enjoy a tablespoon in our tea. Those lemons no longer have their hold on us and they no longer give off the bitter flavor that sours and clouds our minds or our hearts. Lemons can be like Garth says: "Some of Gods' greatest gifts are unanswered prayers" or in some defiant, arguable cases they become answered prayers.

So raise those sterilized jars in gratitude, bless the jam that is about to fill them, seal the sweet substance and let cool. Once the seals have popped closed you know that you are free to let go! Put them on a shelf and never look back but share the experience every time you crack open a new jar. Smile and reveal in the experience of growing you just never know who may need to learn from your story. Cheers!

Kindness. Seashells. Purple Mason Jars.

"They" say "Kindness begets kindness." When you do something nice for another then they naturally do something nice in return. Or so "they" say. We all know it doesn't work that way all the time nor should we expect a kindness in return.  Like "they" say at Christmas "It's better to give then to receive." But how many of us still get butt hurt when we don't get anything in return?

We all have many sides to us. (Kinda like being shaped liked a stop sign.) 8 sides to represent different aspects of ongoing daily life. We work hard at our jobs or at least go for the paycheck even though we despise being there. We want and need more time with family during the holidays or Spring Break. We want our hang out times with good friends, good food, and good drinks ... laughter that last for hours and a good night sleep satisfied by the wrinkles formed from our laugh lines. Some of us spend many waking hours praying to our higher power in hopes that there will be favor poured out upon us.
One aspect of our lives seems to always take the front center stage. Usually we can count on our professions for the time hog. Not much can be done anymore without money exchanged, we gotta pay bills, we gotta buy food, we gotta yada yada the list goes on. We all struggle with what can we do to make things better or easier.


Always searching for that more complete centered life.
Always searching for balance.

One side of my life is of course my professional life, this intersects with about three other sides and turns into a big cloudy mess which I absolutely love. For years now I have been a consultant you could say for small businesses, mostly women starting out on their own, getting their feet wet, and making money on their passions. We work mainly through the basics of how things work and why they work so well but I have been finding there is a serious missing link to the women and the bigger question of why they do the things they do. Why do you want to start your business, why do you think it would help locally or globally? Sorry to say that not many even think outside the preverbal box and understand what they could leave behind as a legacy.

You could say I am the annoying 2 year old in a private business meeting.
Why? Why? Why? That question will come out more times then any other word. Stamp that GUARANTEED!

Just recently I spent a good solid 6 weeks of Sunday's working with a couple that are venturing out on their own in the business world. What a change of pace. Two different mindsets at the same table and yet two different passions and two different plans. Love a good challenge but this was by far the greatest gift that I could share.


We sat Sunday after Sunday at our dining room table. Searching, researching, and note taking the many possibilities that lie ahead for each of them. Notebooks were filled, sharpies went dry from the picture drawing, excitement was shown and heart wrenching decisions were made. All in the comfort of the country style wooden chairs. My heart sings as I look back over the time spent. What I dished out for free 6 weeks not only opened the eyes of the two about to fly but it raised my serotonin levels to new highs. (To bad Dr. Mandy didn't draw blood on those days!)

Kindness.

I can be a sucker and a push over with my knowledge, skills and expertise but not this time. The want to give was stronger then the need to be paid. There was no invoice exchanged, no intention of money exchanged, no desire for the want of getting anything in return. Just the desire to watch these two successfully launch their dreams.

I had no idea that my kindness would be repaid with the absolute most perfect gift. Really!! What garden savvy creature who has loved the color purple her entire life wouldn't die for the new Ball Canning Mason Jars in said purple!?(Insert sappy swooning here) Don't ponder this question too hard. Just go with it. My eye lashes batted a few times, my heart skipped several beats, and once again my serotonin levels reached an all time high!

Kindness begets kindness.

Little did I know that kindness not only begets kindness but it begets appreciation, it begets gratitude, it begets deeper relationships, it begets ... love. Sooooooo, I could not bear to seal up my collard greens that wintered over and hide the jars in my pantry. Seriously just couldn't do it. My mind pondered for several days as to what I would do with the beautiful pint gems. Then it hit me! We need  some new fancy Hillbilly Wine Goblets!!

Yes!!
Thats It!!
They will be perfect!!

Kindness begets kindness begets more kindness.

We can now have a fancy-dancy dinner party for 6 and break open a newly  sealed bottle of homemade wine and everyone can partake in the kindness. A present such as this should never be tucked away hidden on a shelf, no way! This type of kindness needs to be shared over and over again.


Many trips to the junk stores and extreme hours spent searching for the perfect glass candlesticks proved worthless but when small little vases caught my eye I knew those were going to be perfect. Filled each vase with tiny shells from collected necklaces, epoxied the tops to the bottoms of the jars and bingo!

Perfected kindness.


Now I take this moment to raise my purple perfected goblet and say cheers! Cheers to the humans that understand working hard on oneself, who learn from heartfelt gratitude, who share a deep sense of love with their friends, who strive for simplicity, who pray for abundance, but most of all those who share their kindness to the world

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Washed hands. Mental dirt.

After the cold snap drifts away and the mild winter vanishes in a blink of an eye small little wonders start to emerge from the earth. Some of those wonders appear from the well tended flower beds, some come from the perfectly toiled veggie beds, some spring up from the well trod paths, and some of them emerge from the deep caverns of our minds. Smells of oregano, basil and cilantro fill the air. All of this beckons the signs of spring and Easter weekend of 2015.

Almost all of those simple yet mysterious wonders give cause to stop and breathe in deep with a #sighofwonder ... plus they can all be found perched proudly on populated tables with baskets brimming of brightly colored fresh, most recently picked veggies, herbs or flowers from local farms. stopping to look into the eyes of a stranger.

A trip to the farmers market always proves to be a bittersweet adventure for my soul. Our little island is not so big and populated as a major metropolis so the booths don't line the city streets. There are just enough stands to make a wandering meandering circle and be done with in 20 minutes of skimming. In Portland, where I grew up the farmers market was a sight to behold. (Insert angle choir here with their hands lifted in the air) Anyone could spend the entire Saturday touring the booths of all the venders while eating some damn good yakisoba noodles and since the early 1990's the market has only grown and gotten more spectacular. I can remember street musicians playing small gigs on the street corners and the long hair grunge dancers swinging their arms in the air like they just didn't care! Corn rolls and dreds just a swaying in the human made breeze. That was a sweet time when Birkenstocks ruled the streets, the ethnic food was rampant, Mexican pullovers hoodies were all the rage yet completely scratchy on the skin, the homeless had guitar cases over flowing with dollars and our Levi jeans were cut off and rolled up above the knees.


Yet when I head to our own little hometown farmers market I can see that I have so many things in common with all the strangers faces yet we are so far away in relationship status. There clothing choices are a little more up-to-date but deep down there are a few that show up proudly sporting those sought after leather sandals. See in Portland it is so large you could get lost in the crowd and not have to pay any mind to what others were doing let alone what they were thinking. Besides most of them were swingin' their arms like they just didn't care ... lost in there own little worlds.
Now at home in our little town square there are a few people that know me, know more about me then they really should and pay attention to things I have done over the years more than they should. After all what else is there to do when you live in a peach-tree dish of germs. They have judged me for bad decision making or lifestyle changes but what are you going to do? (Wish they were swinging their hands in the air like they just don't care!) Retaliate by repeating the characteristics that you see in them? People tend to watch and mock the changes that others go through simply because they have very little excitement in their own lives or they have a set of moral standards that I nor anyone else will ever really live up to including themselves but hey, thats ok. At least they have boundaries. I guess. (shrug shoulders) In all reality that all means very little to me anymore. Really it always boils down to they don't have a clue so they make something up to satisfy their desire to know without searching for the real truth.


There was a time when these types of thoughts bothered me. The thoughts of small minded people are not my priority nor are the actions of who used to be friends. My priority lies in the soil that I tend the characteristics of my own self worth and the growing that happens eveytime I wash my hands of the mental trash. There is that famous quote that seems to circulate the social media channels at least once a week that I love to repost whenever possible. "Don't judge me until you have walk a mile in my shoes or felt the pain that I have felt." Well, something like that. That's how my brain remembers it anyway. Straight and to the point. The other good quote is: "Don't be hard on someone because you don't know the battles they are fighting." Once again that is my editorial version at its best.

How I miss going through the warm concrete city streets of Portland on a Saturday. (insert dreamy music here - something like George Winston "Summer") Getting lost in the crowds, minding my own business, being annonymus, seeing more simple wonders placed up on tables for sale. Most of the time ... remembering better happier days are on the agenda when I go to our local market. (Like to visit the past occasionally and thank the good lawrd above that I don't live there anymore) I do go to see what is new, see who is selling what and see if the hope that springs eternal in my heart for the noodles by the mile have become a reality!


One solid truth about me is this ... I am a slow girl. Growing up in a small town on the outskirts of Portland has taught me that a slower pace is not to be taken for granted but cherished. Moving at the pace of a snail is truly the best true prescription for white hairs.

I learn slow. Some mistakes in my life have turned out to be the best damn lessons that anyone could ever learn.  Loves and losses number in the millions and some of the greatest people in my lifetime I hold dear simply because of the lessons that are still being taught from their actions or words. How many people can say that they are still learning lessons from their past friends, ex-lovers, husbands or mother-in-laws?

I have matured slow. Growing up has been a difficult task. People asked me if I have lived on this rock all my life and I look at them and proudly say that I was not born here but I grew up here. They are satisfied with that answer but never really dive into its meaning. Still waiting for the day when some brave soul asks the question: "What was it like growing up here?" That will open the flood gates. They better be sitting down and drinking a beer!

Most of all I like my food grown slow. Not to say those farmers are the market didn't slowly grow their produce, but its nice to see that there are kindred spirits out there that also like there food grown at a snails pace. There is still a couple of mysteries that boggle the mind. 1. One could head off to the local garden center and see what starts are ready for planting or one could run straight to the farmers market and buy it already grown or Better yet! COOKED! 2. Seeds that give up their energy packed shells to grow in a green house or in a plot of land just out side on the warm side of the house. Some like it hot! Some like it cold! Some like it in a pot 9 days old.


This weekend's trip to the market was a great success, proved to be productive with a dozen duck eggs under my arm and an emotional healing all at the same time. I did take a few minutes to walk down memory lane and the massive streets of the Portland Farmers Market as a teenager but getting out and getting my hands washed of the mental dirt of the local people was the biggest success to date. Forcing myself to stay longer then the 20 minute skimming alloted time was the crucial pivot point. Pushing myself to be seen and not heard another impossibility that was conquered. Yes, it is amazing that people can actually physically see me, no longer can I hide in this local crowd. No longer can I wander unnoticed at 10 in the morning when they first open. Makes me seriously think about those human characteristics that I show.
Will have to try the adventure again, take a few more pictures, breathe in deep the sighs of wonders, and next time even talk to some of those beautiful strangers faces. You just never know what barriers could be broken from a simple hello.

Sigh of Wonder

Spring in February!?
There is something to be done about a winter that only smiles sunshine. That something is a very welcome deep-hearted silent bow of gratitude. No words really need spoken, just a simple bow of acknowledgement. No snow or heavy black cloud need come ruin the day but then again the sight of those were a rarity this winter.

Here it is the end of the second month and the start of the third, rain did come as a welcome surprise during February but the months before were warm and inviting. The gardens only slowed down for the holidays givin’ gardeners a chance to stretch out their fingers on other inside worth while projects.

Now that the celebrations of the Christmas season are over the weeds have returned along with the warmth of the sun. March brings with its first days an unexpected but much appreciated warmness that is fully felt deep into the roots of all creatures. Sun from the sky warms the limbs and fire from the earths core warms our roots.
Seeds from the packets, seeds from the birds and seeds from the souls are sproutin’, growin’ and bloomin’ bringin’ with them the subtle hummm of the bumble.

Spring is welcomed and celebrated in our small garden. The very last day in January we beckoned back the fire from the sky with our own version of Rum Punchin’ Candlemas. Friends gathered to drink from the Holy Well Water, feasted on Campfire Grill, and danced around the smoke pit while we all remembered past adventures and schemed over future journeys that will bring us all either further or nearer to our envisioned dreams.

Candles were lit in remembrance, hands were washed of horrible memories but the soul was restarted with a fresh kick of laughter and joy. New friends were made, secret seeds were planted but our night together still grows stronger as the days begin to get longer.
Not much more can be stated for a winter of sun. Just another deep, deep grateful bow must be given.

Thankfulness bubbles to the surface of our hearts. A warmness runs through our veins with the very thought of the next opened daff-dill or the next lemony burst of daphne or the quiet afternoon watching the hummers bomb the sugar water. A sigh of wonder.