Don't stop believing

Amanda's graduation pic, Roosevelt High School,
Des Moines, Iowa, Class of 2014,
courtesy of Megan Clausen Photography

A 17-year-old daughter is so beautiful to behold. Today at the office, I got an emergency telephone call (aka not a text) that went something like this:

Her: Mom, the neighbor is spray-painting their grass the color of green!

Me: They're re treating their lawn with chemicals.

Her: But you know what that means, right?! (To my writer friends, my lovely girl really does talk in exclamation points.)

Me: Their yard is going to look great?

Her: No, mom, it's Glee!

Me: (She's referring to the very first episode of Glee where the character of Finn [RIP] as a child watches his mother's latest loser boyfriend chemically treat the lawn while blasting a Journey song, Lovin, Touchin', Squeezin, which would stay with Finn until he gets into high school to help inspire the newly formed Glee club with another Journey Song.)

Me: Don't Stop Believing, honey.

Her: Don't Stop Believing, mommy.

End of call. Back to work.

Grow Something

I planted the colors green, yellow, red and orange.
The kids call my favorite eats "mom's tropical food."

Welcome to my vegetable garden!

As you may know, we live on one full acre. To Bob it's "a farm," a compensation from living 46 years in the inner city*. To me it's "another job," an overwhelming sensation from having very little liquid time. With all this land, you'd think we'd have planted a garden a long time ago but I didn't know where to start.

However, I found a solution.

It's "live globally, act apartmently." I ask myself what would I do if I lived in a little space. Suddenly things become very clear. I need to plant a container garden because that's what you would do if you didn't have a yard. (Note: in the background of this picture is the St. John's Faith Garden, an impressive expanse, which has been a nice proxy gardening experience. Yet, I still wanted my own kitchen garden.)

This is how we did it.

A Different Kind of Love Triangle

My husband was mad at our daughter for the dent in her car. (He said it was about responsibility.)

I was mad at my husband because he was mad at our daughter. (I said it had nothing to do with responsibility.)

He was mad at me because I was mad at him. (He said I didn’t understand.)

I said he was being unreasonable.

He said I was being mama bear.

The Pastor's Wife

Grateful to Living Lutheran for the opportunity to post this short reflection on being a pastor's wife:

In seminary, circa 2006, they offered a workshop for spouses of ordination-bound students on the topic of being a pastor’s spouse. I myself was the wife of presumed future pastor but did not attend the seminar because what was there to learn? I felt liberated from the traditional label “the pastor’s wife.” Plus I was a working mother and wouldn’t have time to be pushed into a corner of expectations. I barely had time to brush my teeth.

On Waitressing at 25 – Employment Dos and Don’ts

When I was 25 years old, I had a BA in Political Science and Criminal Justice, an MA in Secondary Education, and a student loan debt that could finance a midsize luxury car. My ambition was to teach high school social studies.

Instead I was waitressing.

Ye Olde Horse House - The Teenagers

In the spirit of writing what you know, writing what bugs you, and writing for the pure sake of writing, I am starting a new series on our house -- Ye Olde Horse House, aka YOHH. Ye, for the ring. Olde as a way to emphasize old. Horse to bring up its history as an old horse ranch house. And house as in home, home wrecker, money pit, glad-we're-not-homeless, the place we live, shelter, needs-lots-of-work, and such.

Welcome!

Today we start with The Teenager chapter. Ye Olde Horse House currently has two teenager hotspots:

The Cooking Wounded

Grateful for the opportunity to write about my incredible cooking team, including our strong man, Bill Ross, in Living Lutheran: 

*

If you saw Bill Ross today, you’d never know his body had been crushed in a truck accident. He had a broken hip, broken wrist, three broken ribs, and two legs broken in five places. Plus a collapsed lung and concussion. Serious blows to bone and flesh.