Good Friends and Nice and Easy

Once in a great while I am completely perplexed by the generosity of a good friend. My mind at times cannot conceive why someone would be so sacrificial and nice to me. A sisterhood in the making. A friendship on the loose. A poem waiting to be written on childhood and caring and loving each other, in spite of daily aggravations like stretch marks, tired eyes and broken dreams. In the midst of life on life's terms we are given, on occasion the gift of a friend, and it soothes our aching souls like warm pumpkin soup by the fire on a cold January day.
All I needed this morning was a couple hours of sanity to take care of some grad school business, some time to read my text and think straight with no "mommy mommy mommy" or a 10 month old climbing my legs or "powing" my face to show his baby manliness.
And wala'. A good friend arrives. With a present in hand, coming to serve. Asking nothing in return.
Miracles still happen. Nice and Easy Root Touch Up and the kindness of a good friend.
For that I am truly thankful.
-Stacy

It a rare thing when your life is changed by a box of six dollar Clairol Nice and Easy Root Touch Up. But I'm here to tell you friends, my life has been forever changed. This gray headed 35 year old woman THANKS the Lord for the miracle.
Praise Him.

Genius

It is in the small, silent spaces in life that I realize how richly blessed I am. How many lovely, wonderful, good-listening friends I have. What a wonderful family God has so lavished me with. The phone rings with a friend of many years, and I sigh in relief that in this chasm of a world, I am not alone. The silence is deafening in a home with a sleeping baby, and a husband gone for the evening. But in this silence I get to take stock of the bounty of blessings and I count one by one. Occasionally interrupted by grumpy voices of irritation that my life has not turned out exactly as I had planned, I look through my mind’s eye of the road less traveled and I am thankful for my somewhat uneventful, ordinary life. I am thankful especially for my loved ones that love me in spite of my mood swings and post-partum blues singing. I am thankful for my home that breathes a sense of humor in every corner, except for my bedroom and master bath that reeks of adultness. Speaking of adultness, I am one now. That is somewhat scary to me, as I always have my inner two year old climbing on every counter of my mind, screaming “mine! mine!” and crossing her arms in disbelief that the world, in fact, doesn’t revolve around her after all. What a bummer. My mentor, just yesterday, suggested that I might think about the possibility of surrendering my sense of self-importance, as it might be getting in the way of surrendering my life to the care of a loving God, just for today. For when our lives are run by self-importance, it is much easier for the prayer to get switched to “My Will, Not Thine, Be Done”. I am sure I would be the next in line for the God-position. After all, don’t I know best? Oh my immature, shortsighted mind. I can’t get her to listen for the life of me. But all is well. I am human yet another day and I have two rather large thighs to prove it. Yet grateful they work, even if I will never grace the cover of Mademoiselle or even Plump Petite for that matter. I am keenly aware today, that God needs a cracked pot. His sick sense of humor requires it, you see, to have his Glory Shine Through. Liquid gold glory just a’pourin. All because of my thighs. Man am I holy or what.

Anyways, thanks for listening to my rather poetic wandering there. For a minute I thought I might be a genius. I’m coming out of it now. Back to earth. Back to the dishes and the fact that I am teaching the neighborhood kids how to sing Zipadeedoodah. You know, Zipadeeday, My Oh my what a beautiful day? Yeah, that one. It is a beautiful day after all, isn’t it? At least when I look into their faces I believe that. Even when it is snowing (not—Nashville weather men are liars). Sorry Demetria. She’s not the weatherman, I just thought she deserved an apology anyways. It’s either my codependency or I am starting to feel guilty about making fun of her hair all these years. That’s what you get when you never leave your hometown, even if it is Nashville…

I Am In It

Every Friday I get to go to my womens’ writing group, which I love. I get to write whatever I want with no one critiquing me. Just for the sheer joy of writing. Nothing more, nothing less. Here is a poem to encourage you to stay in your journey, be present for it, experience it…the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs, the twists and turns…

“I Am In It”
by Stacy Jagger

All of my experiences
One by one
All locked up together
Meaningful and few
Precious, like stones
Diamonds among them
Taking each one
To make something beautiful
Time is not lost
Lost is not time
I am on time
Not late, nor early
I am neither young, nor old
Depending your stature
Compared to Mathusala
I am a mere child
Wisdom I have sought you
Though too stupid to know if I have any
Smart enough to know
The only problems I have
Lie between my ears
Seeds thrown
This way and that
Water them and watch them grow
For there is no easier or softer way
The road is slow and easy
Bends from nowhere
Just to see them
And for no other reason
For the journey is the reward
And I am in it

Sushi Magic

Today I went to the International Market to get a present for my honey. I bought him all the stuff to make sushi at home, as we love California rolls and pay dearly for them at Wild Oats. We decided hey. How hard can it be? So I went to the International Market and left my friend Angie in the car with the baby while I quickly ran in to get what I needed.Well they don’t tell you that no one at the International Market speaks English. I was walking up to all the Chinese folk saying, “Do you speak English?” By the way, that place smells majorly of fish, and what in the world do you do with duck feet? I mean really people that scares me.Anyways, so I would ask, “Do you speak English?” and they would say, “Mmm, no English.” Again to another, “Do you speak English?” and again, “Mmm, little English.” And so I would tell them, in all my southernness, although I was trying to put a little Asian twist to it, “Okay, so I am wanting to make sushi at home and I need one of those rollyup thingies to roll it up with.” And let’s just say they couldn’t understand a word I was saying, either that, or they were pretending…not sure which.
So FINALLY! I found this couple who looked kind of, sort of University-ish, and I said, “Excuse me, but do you speak English?” And they said yes, and so I told them how I was wanting to make sushi at home and I was looking for one of those bamboo looking rolly-up thingies, and they started DYING LAUGHING! I mean pointing at me and laughing and their eyes completely disappeared they were laughing so hard. Saying, “You make no sushi at home, much effort, you rice fall apart, you makey no sushi.” And I was really offended. I’m like, “Yes I am, I am going to make sushi at home.” I told their seven year or so old son, “Your mom and dad are laughing at me!” And he said, “Yes! Hahaha! You makey no sushi.” And I said, “Yes I am. Well let’s just say it will be an experiment. Now where are the rolly-up thingies, and the chopsticks, and the rice cookers and the seaweed?
Thankfully, they sent me in the right direction. Because I didn’t have my glasses on, and that made it all worse. So I got all I needed and went back in line and the same family started laughing at me again. BUT! I got what I needed out of him b/c he told me, “You go to Sushi Magic on internet.” I said, “Sushi Magic?” He says, “Sushi Magic. You must put vinegar in the rice to make sticky rice, or you no make sushi.”
I thanked Mr. Chinese Laugh-At-Me and went on my merry way, but I did recognize that even the Chinese cashier was snickering. I’m like “What’s the big deal people? Sushi can’t be that hard!”
So I’ll keep you updated on the Sushi Adventure. In the meantime, if you are secretly wishing YOU could make sushi at home, visit www.sushimagic.com
Other than that, Happy New Year…all the way to China and back…

Casket-Sleeping, Elf Costumes and my Granny Gown

OK so I went to this cute little shop in my neck of the woods called “So Cool” which is where my paintings are sold. Yes, I paint. Fun, whimsical art. And while I was there I ran into a neighbor who said she spent two hours reading my journal online b/c she thought it was so funny. And I’m like, well dang! If I had known I was that funny I would have been writing every day! So Mrs. Monk, this one’s for you…and by the way, your new hairdo is fabulous…
So do any of you have issues with getting your husband to do what you want him to do? I’ve been trying to figure out the gift of reverse psychology lately, wondering if I get a little twist on my basic manipulative strategies, maybe my daughter’s nursery will finally get finished. You see, we had the wild notion, don’t ask me why, that our child would stay in our room for the first year b/c she is breastfeeding and you know the whole attachment-parenting thing. Uh. BIG MISTAKE. Hello. Not gonna’. And I begged my husband to help me get the nursery done like my 2nd trimester and here we are, with a six month old, still working on that ding-donged dad-blamed flip-flarned room. Not to mention the fact that I kept the FULL BED for our master bedroom b/c I was so darn STUBBORN, HEAVEN-BENT on keeping this old, rickety 100-year-old antique iron bed, and you know, apparently nobody was FAT back then, because WHO CAN SLEEP IN A FULL BED NOWADAYS WITH A MAN THAT SNORES AND YOUR BABY THAT COMES TO NURSE EVERY TWO COTTON-PICKIN’ HOURS?? It’s like rollin’ over in a casket. Somebody HELP me. I don’t mean to lament, I mean I am seriously grateful for our sweet and humble abode. But come on people, what was I thinking?
In other news…my friend Sally came over this week and took pictures of the baby at our house. What a friend—she traipses down here with all her gear and this time showed up with a doggie-elf costume, and what do you know, it fit Miss Bebe just perfectly. Check her out. Is she not the cutest thing you have ever seen in your life or am I biased?
AND. I bought a granny-gown today. Yep. A granny-gown. I’m talking the full-blown flannel long funky gown with the cotton lace and the whole nine yards. OK, maybe not nine yards, I hope not nine yards. And I’m talkin’ Granny knew what she was doin’ cause I’m as warm as toast. They’re on sale at TJ right now for 16.99 so go on down there cause I’m startin’ a revolution. Before you know it, Granny gowns are going to be the rage and Miss Victoria will be out of business…
Other than that, I’m just enjoying my neighbor’s reindeers and trying to catch up on some housework and reading…. I hope you are all enjoying the traffic and all of the tinsel and the fifteen renditions of Here Comes Santa Claus. I’m thinking about decorating my pink flamengos with Santa hats. What do you think?