Yarnberd

Hello, January 2.  You are so much less threatening than your predecessor.  Now that the despot has come and gone, let’s decide together what our new year will be like.

I did attend church yesterday.  That is a good way to begin a new year, I think, and the pastor had some encouraging things to say.  He talked about time and the way in which we should value it in all its forms — a year, a month, a week, an hour, a minute.  I keep thinking why have I wasted so much of such a precious commodity?  I have consumed instead of created (hours spent watching Law and Order and The Vampire Diaries instead of writing my own stories or reading really great books so that my mind is fed or spending time with my family).

The pastor told us not to be in bondage to the past, so I can safely forgive myself for the two boxes of Russell Stover candy I took a (large) part in eating just last week and the naps I took instead of walking the dog throughout the year among many other shameful self-obliterators — things that tear me down instead of building me up.

A third point in the pastor’s message was the need to establish priorities.  I have them, but they are not in order, they are scattered about getting little or no attention.  In the priorities category, I FAIL.

Maybe I’m being a little hard on myself.  I guess I do okay around here.  Everyone has clean underwear most of the time and my assignments get to my mentor on the deadline date.  The floor isn’t too dusty and I haven’t yet broken the 200 lb. marker on the scales.  But I can’t help thinking about how much better the quality of my life and work would/could be if I take to heart what the pastor talked about yesterday.

What if I held precious every minute that God so graciously gives me in 2012 and really believed that NOW is the time of God’s favor (2 Cor. 6:2)?  What if I forget about the past and all the things I did badly or didn’t do and should have, and allowed myself to move on?  The Apostle Paul said, “One thing I do, forgetting what is behind” …  I can do that, too.  What if I established priorities and put God first before even my precious family that I love so deeply and the work that I am so desperate to accomplish.  Jesus said in Matthew, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well.”  What if I really believed that?  What if I pressed toward that goal?

So, I don’t think, January 2, that I have any resolutions, but I do have a strong desire to change some things.  I don’t want to change them for a little while, but for the long haul.  I think I might be able to do it if I take it one month, one day, one hour, one minute at a time.

Greetings, January 1.  You are the shining star, the crown jewel of the year, holding so many promises and dreams and new beginnings.  You have your own brand of magic, sprinkling your fairy dust over us making us resolve to be better, thinner, smarter than we ever thought about being in the previous year.

January 1 … liar, liar, pants on fire.  I am calling your bluff and shall ignore you for the remainder of the day.  Instead, I will do what ever I want to do which is lazing around eating chocolate cake and watching black and white movies, baking bread and writing for fun and not because I have huge writing assignments due in 16 days.

Now, for tomorrow there are plans to be made and priorities to set.  I plan to forget a lot of the things I did in 2011 and I will prioritize the things in my life that are important like taking care of this forty-something body of mine which is getting older and falling slowly apart.  Who knew there would be so much pain?

January 2, my dear tomorrow, I am looking forward to seeing you.  Until then, let us commence ignoring today and eating chocolate cake.  Where’s the remote?

There were essays to write and grass to mow, but a walk with the dog seemed more to my liking this morning. Who could resist his big brown eyes and toothy smile? Pilot loves a good sniffing expedition occasionally, so we went. Patches of blue and sunshine fought for rights with the overcast sky and I feared it might rain on us, but I didn’t bother taking an umbrella. It seemed an okay thing to get caught in the rain.

At the end of our street, the crooked horseshoe lane that wraps itself around a park and a graveyard, we found two frolicking hounds. Hunting dogs, by the look of them, that had escaped from where? This really isn’t a hunting community — a soccer mom-PTO-garbage-pick-up-three-days-a-week kind of community, but not a hunting community. We allow the deer to graze in our back yards, setting out apples and salt blocks as treats for them and stand at the kitchen window amazed that they hang around our houses like big, lazy dogs. Hunting dogs in this neighborhood, though they are probably not suited for it, are kept as companions and pets, not working animals. These two escapees were having a high time running and sniffing and being free. Sisters out for a walk in the park.

One was tall and lanky, long-legged and thin and could jump up on the stone retaining walls that surround many of the homes around here. The walls are not extraordinarily high, but it was fun watching the hound jumping and running on and along them with little effort. I am sure she would make a fine hunter and I hope that she sees the woods occasionally as a free dog and not an escapee. Her white coat had brown undertones and her light colored eyes were full of mischief and joy. She wanted to play with Pilot, but being the cup cake that he is, he shied away and then simply ignored her.

The other hound was a short stubby beagle that looked like she had some age on her. She was the only one who growled and snapped at Pilot. She was not out to play, but she seemed a watchful companion to her flighty counterpart, doing her best to keep them both out of danger. She had her work cut out for her because the younger dog was bounding and jumping in and out of the street. Many cars stopped short, just missing her. Drivers looked at me shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders. I returned the gesture.

At the end of our walk is a park with a small meadow. This is the treat, the dessert of the walk, with smells galore and lots of running space. Pilot is kept on a leash, but here he is given the full length of it. If I unleashed him, I would never catch him. The two hounds followed us into the park. It struck me there that the dogs stayed together everywhere they went. When one ran, the other did too. When one stopped to sniff, the other was there sharing the scent. When the escape occurred hours before, they did not go their separate ways, but struck out on the adventure together. There was joy in the sniff and joy in the run, but the true joy, the core of the joy, was being together. They were their own little pack.

I am something I haven’t been in a long while … unemployed. This, I am, not by choice, and I feel myself spiraling down into depression and self-deprecation. I must quit this breaking down and build up. So here I am writing. I turn on Pandora to my own personal Dave Matthews Band channel and make bread and think of others. I want the house to smell of sweet bread when my dear husband gets home. I say a prayer for a friend whose father is dying. I ask God to have mercy on all those out there who are out of work, struggling to get by and feed the kids, and just plain suffering. I will stop looking inward and reach out. Hey, World, you’re in my prayers!

Me, Later: Better.

I would like to take a moment from licking the batter off my fingers to thank v monte over at Allrecipes for posting Mom’s Zucchini Bread. This recipe is really delicious and you should definitely try it if you have a zucchini — or 15 — hanging around. I heard through the squash vine that you can use the yellow squash for bread also.

Mmmm … house smells like happiness.