Butter and Thunderstorms

I was standing in the kitchen, buttering a rice cake, when the Wil-de-beast magically appeared and chanted over my shoulder, “Do you really think THAT’S a good food choice- a rice cake slathered in BUTTER?”

I told him that women need a little extra fat in order to menstruate. That shut him up.  I turned to hide my mischievous grin and continued to butter the rest of my recycled packing material for consumption. Truth is- I would eat butter on a rock if it meant I could have it.

Besides- I need to butter-up in order to continue to support the Wil-de-beast in his exercise program.

I’d like you all to know- I doubled my miserable minutes in that Insanity program. I haven’t gotten past the warm-up and I already want to punch that guy that keeps saying “How we doin’ y’all? Keep pushin’, keep pushin’!” All that breathless sweatiness- just to be buff.

Don’t tell anyone- I’m actually sore.

But this really isn’t about exercise. It’s about adding up the little things. It’s about capturing moments to be alive and being thankful for them.

I did three favorite things that day:

1. I took a walk back into the woods:

My favorite part of the walk was the path…. I like places that have been worn away by routine- places that tell a story; places that echo with history. I like the patches that get worn away below the swings on a swing set. I like doors that creak, porch swings that creak, and stairs that creak. I hope George Bailey never fixes the finial that comes off in his hand on It’s a Wonderful Life. I like the feel of the old pages of a book. I like a well-worn path.

Photography by Nick Woodrow©2010. Used with permission.

2.  I worked on my garden patch:

I was thinking- as I worked on digging a new edge around the garden where the grass creeps in- that never in my life have I had to pull away so fiercely to get outside to work and breathe. Sometimes, I feel so overwhelmed with details and with tasks- that my day can go from morning to night- and feel as if there’s nothing in it; or is it that I’m not taking account of and being grateful for the little things that are there? Maybe a combination of both. Maybe the pace is too fast and my focus maladjusted. As an artist and a writer- my soil needs to be amended regularly- I need to put good stuff in, in order to get good stuff out. I need to do away with creeping weeds and open myself for the the battering of the till. I must have deep furrows in order for seed to stand a chance of sprouting. Both rain and sun must beat upon my breast so that with time and continual surrender good fruit will come.

Photography by ©KatVitulanoPhotos. Used with permission.

3. I put laundry away in my bedroom during a thunderstorm:

The sky was many shades of gray- tumultuous and filled with electricity. I opened the windows wide and watched the rain come in phases- at times pounding furiously on the rooftop outside my window. When the rain fell soft, I played some favorite love songs and found myself deep in hidden places. I dreamed of days past and lost myself in the sweet sadness that’s just inches beneath the surface of every waking moment. I had a little Pride and Prejudice moment- and a thought came to me.

I’ve noticed- that since my Taylor-bean isn’t around much- I live in a world of mostly men. That’s been a big change for me. This realm has it’s own particular sweetness- but some of the creative, girly things that happened naturally from day to day- now have to be intentionally sought after in order to bring balance. I have to break away from the muscles, sweat, and ball-bouncing to enjoy more feminine sorts of little things. Not that my men don’t enjoy thunderstorms and love songs… it’s just that those things don’t come in to the flow as easily.

With the rain and the song, I felt ideas, dreams, and memories begin to weave in and out of the melodies and I ran to get my book of thoughts and ideas so I could jot them down.

Oh, sweet and happy little things…

Photo by: Barbara Miers ©2011. Used with permission.

How about you? Any little thing you would like to share? Thanks for taking this journey with me…

The Little Things…

This morning I got up and sleepily made my way down the stairs to pour a cup of coffee. I overslept a bit- so I knew my time alone in my comfy chair would be short. I curl up, wrap my toes in the end of my robe and nestle in to read a bit of the Word.

It isn’t long before I’m forced to get up, begrudgingly, to wake the Wil-de-beast. It’s not that I don’t like him, in fact, I’m not even sure where he came from; he’s such a dreamboat and a sweetheart of a young man. It’s just that his big feet will plod around making all sorts of noise and he’ll want stuff- like food- and I know my quiet moments will be over. So, after a bit of coaxing, down he comes, dressed in his tennis shoes- ready to do his workout. He’s taller than I remember him being yesterday; he says it’s the shoes- but today he seems to bend as he kisses me on top of the head.

The Wil-de-beast likes to exercise. In fact, he thinks he may want to help others to like it as a career. He and his buddy just invested in this wild-man workout- it’s called Insanity®  and it’s all I’ve been hearing about for weeks. Pretty big investment for a young guy on a limited income.

So- I decide, “Yes son- I will do this with you for as long as I can take it.” You know- mom’s-behind-yuh- kind of thing. Besides, as blessed mother, I don’t want to be really soft and fluffy- just a little soft and fluffy. Sort of a lovely Mom-de-beast figure.

He takes one look at me in my pink, flowery robe and tells me I may want to go change- I will be covered in sweat when I’m done. Oh. Sweat- hadn’t thought of that. I whip off my robe, which leaves me in my flannel jammies and plod in to the work-out space with the Wil-de-beast, careful to leave room for his sweaty, wild-man moves.

Some huge, hunk of man appears on the screen, to tell us how much he enjoys this and  how- just as we are getting breathless- he is just getting started. After many moves designed to carve and sculpt my lithe and momly figure- I decide to leave the rest to the big beasts.

I jog out cheering the Wil-de-beast on. Wheew. Time to head for the showers. That was the longest 3 minutes of my life.

Can’t wait till tomorrow- after all, it’s in the little things.

The Little Things…
 I don’t know about you- but I find that details, business, entertainment, and connectivity can creep in and smother my creative impulses. If I’m not careful, I find that somehow I stop breathing- fail to hear the birds sing- and find myself dry and out of the stream. In these shorter posts, entitled, “The Little Things,” I hope to make a public effort to tend my private heart by recording a few of the little things that bring me life. Please join me in this adventure by taking a moment to record for yourself how you stepped into the stream today. What little thing did you intentionally do for yourself that makes you laugh, cry, or sing? What are you doing that makes you feel alive? Record them for yourself and share with the rest of us when you feel you can. I would love to interact.
Happy little things!