A Glimpse of the Spectacular

I was a little cranky this morning, I went to bed super early last night thinking that I would get a good nights sleep and be all chipper and ready to start my busy day today. Instead I was slammed out of unconsciousness at 11:45pm with some unknown thing scuttling around under my covers and crawling all over my legs. Now some of you might think it could have been hubby feeling frisky but it definitely wasn't him...he was snoring...loudly. 

I threw off my blanket and jumped out of bed. Of course my heart is pounding as thoughts of rats, mice and cockroaches fill my head and because I was so worked up it didn't cross my mind that we don't have either rats or cockroaches in this area. Mice yes...

I proceeded to toss and turn the rest of the night, just waiting for this creepy sensation to happen again, ready to beat the living crap out of whatever I found. Alas it didn't happen and all I got out of the deal was a bad night sleep.

It was early when Kevin and I left for work, we have the privilege of travelling together each day. My head felt fuzzy and the pitch black outside made me want to dive back into bed and get more rest.

We live on a country road that doesn't see much traffic and the snow that had begun falling in the night was pristine and untouched by anyone else's tire tracks. The soft crunch as we drove was crisp and clean, the snow coming down softly. The flakes were so tiny and fine that I thought of God filling a huge salt shaker full of sparkles and shaking it onto the earth.

Tonight after the craziness of the day is over, I will curl up on my couch with my yak-wool blanket from Nepal, the book I am reading, a cup of homemade hot chocolate and a piece of Skorpor which is a Swedish shortbread type of cookie bar. I will thank God for the day and for beauty that surrounds me if only I would take time to open my eyes.

This is my glimpse of spectacular today...what is yours?

SKORPOR

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup shortening

1 egg

1 cup sour cream

3-4 cups flour (enough to make dough stiff)

1/2 tsp. soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 Tbsp. baking powder

1 cup nuts, finely chopped

Mix all ingredients together and pour into a long sheet pan. Bake 1 hour at 325 F. Take out of oven and turn oven down to 200 F. Cut Skorpor into 1"x4" strips while still in the pan and put back into the oven to dry until hard and light brown (about 1 hour). Melt Toblerone chocolate squares in double boiler until smooth and spread over strips to coat. Let harden and enjoy with your favorite hot beverage.

Top 20 for a Happier Life ~ Rhonda style

 

As the calendar year comes to a close we start pondering all the things we would like to do better in the coming year. When I was young and foolish I thought the best way to accomplish my plethora of items was to write myself a list and tick things off one at a time.

I was a habitual list maker, buying beautiful notebooks and fine-tipped pens as if writing supplies would somehow move me to action and get the job done. I filled up book after book with journaling, poetry, exercise/calorie counting and yes...lists.

Yesterday I cleaned out my Cedar chest which is the mother lode of Rhonda-mobilia and found all my old journals. I sat for a few hours reading through some of the entries and was struck by the profoundness of the passage of time.

My struggles seem to have had common themes, finding purpose, longing to live passionately, perpetual weight issues and exercise horrors and yes...many lists. My joys have had common themes as well...an overwhelming thankfulness for my family and friends, and the richness of God's provision and blessing in my life.

I cried my way through the cedar chest contents. I found baby blankets that my Grandma crocheted for me when my kids were born, velvety soft to the touch. My beloved Grandpa Posein's handkerchiefs that I remember having been stowed in his suit pockets for an emergency sniffle, beautiful antique linens from my Grandma Lang given to her by her parents. Favorite pictures of our children when their youthful energy radiated from every pore. Cards from my wonderful husband declaring his love for me and dried roses from an anniversary bouquet.

All of a sudden I was stone cold...I realized my days had been slipping away from me so fast, soon to become items in my cedar chest. The biggest question loomed over my thoughts~

have I been making good use of my time?

I sat down to create one more list...not a New Year's resolution list, but a list of things I have been putting off. Things that have been niggling at me for attention that somehow I buried under the blankets of "not enough time" "not enough money" "not enough patience" "too old" "too young" "not my problem" "maybe someday"...so here it is~

20 Ways I want to enjoy my life to the fullest:

1. "LIKE" myself, be ok with who I am today
2. Throw away my granny panties (the childrens song "Deep and Wide"  with the actions comes to mind), com'on girls if I can...you can too
3. In each day, find something spectacular to enjoy, even if it's the sun shining through my doggie-snotted up window
4. Give gifts with no expectation of anything in return and not because of what it makes ME feel like, but what it will make someone else understand~ that I am thinking about them and I care 
5. Praise my children for the exceptional human beings they have become
6. Meditate on the God in my life who fills me with peace
7. Smell the fresh coffee grounds every morning before brewing the pot...ahhhh
8. Decorate my home in a reflection of my need for peace and harmony, safety and belonging...beauty
9. Love, appreciate and respect my husband at every opportunity afforded to me...I don't know how many days I will be blessed to do this
10. Wear black nail polish once in awhile with a little black dress
11. Stop being afraid of failure, and just.start.already
12. Speak words of life and not death
13. Read many books
14. Do crazy things just for the fun of it, preferably before I need a hip replaced
15. Stop looking over my shoulder in fear of losing it all
16. Cry on a friend's shoulder and when done, offer them mine
17. Toss my razors...yah you read that right but no worries I won't be going European au natural, there are alternatives out there 
18. Learn something new each day
19. Remember what I just learned
20. Do~ it

The calendar at the top is from 1967, the year I was born. Many, many, many (you get the idea) days have passed since I arrived on this planet. How many more do I have? I don't know, but I intend to make the most of each one I am blessed with. Although my Top 20 list is by no means exhaustive it's a good starting place, a kick in the keester, a means of identifying the things that are important to me and goading myself into action.

I hope you make your own list, be creative and crazy. It's all good.
Love and peace to each of you during this Christmas Season!!




 

Saving Private Schmidt

I was SO excited...the parcel I had been waiting a week for had finally arrived! I received my notice to pick up the parcel at a local drug store where they have a postal service outlet and I actually almost ran down there. Well, I didn't really run as there is lots of slushy snow on the ground with underlying ice, and due to the contents of the parcel, didn't want to ruin things for later in the evening by falling and wrenching my ankle.

I wandered through the store first (I've always loved drug stores) to see if there were any new gift items out for Christmas. On my way I picked up a chocolate bar, a diet coke and an Edmonton Journal because everybody knows a chocolate bar is less bad for you if you drink a diet coke with it!

I arrived at the counter, excitement building~what a delicious secret! No one would know what I had ordered and I loved thinking about the ladies at the counter who would wonder what was in my mysterious, non-descript box. I put down my chocolate bar and diet coke as they brought out the box.

"Oh my", the salesclerk exclaimed. "I hope to goodness that chocolate bar is not yours or you'll be working off more than you bargained for."

My "non-descript" box was covered in bright orange lettering~ BODY REVOLUTION by Jillian Michaels. Arggggg! Cover blown big time and now I was going to have to leave behind my chocolate bar as well. I said thank you, paid for my diet coke and newspaper and left.

I haven't had a gym membership for close to a year and I have really missed the variety of activities available compared to my home gym...which consists of a treadmill and some free weights. I was on my afore mentioned treadmill one morning bright and early, trying to repent of the sins from the previous day, when all of a sudden an epiphany... Jillian Michaels in all her stunningly fit glory in an infomercial~I swear she was looking RIGHT at me!

Of course everything she said made perfect sense...why wouldn't I order the Body Revolution right that very minute because I could save money on shipping and she would throw in a food journal and I would be fit fit fit in only 90 days? I would be able to handle the reduced calories from the lack of fried foods, I would, in fact, THANK her after all the torture was done!

Well, as you all know, I am one to do my research before I buy things (ha) so I ran upstairs and googled it just to make sure I was getting the best price and then promptly ordered. So, the anticipation has been killing me as I waited for this revolution to arrive. I was going into the trenches, I was on the verge of doing battle, I was going to come out the victor! I would expose my hidden muscles and take captive my poor eating habits...I started sweating just thinking about it.

Of course part of doing battle is preparing adequately. So when I got home I lined up all of the items from the box on the counter...DVDs, food journal, meal plans, weighted jump rope and...well a few other items. I felt I needed to fortify myself for the arduous days ahead!

Beer and cheesie remnants~ah, perfect way to relax and get all of the cravings out of the way for the next 90 days. I read over all the booklets and now felt ready to tackle the next 90 days.

Oops, small glitch...going on a holiday to Ste Maartin for 8 days and with the all-inclusive nature of things, I'm sure I'll be rolling past the buffet one too many times. Well, my plan is to start the Body Revolution when I get back and giver' bullets. The only reason I am telling you about this is to be accountable, to be up front that I'm going to have some hard days. When I see my cheesie fingerprints on the booklets I'm going to want to fall off the wagon. When I mistake hops for vitamin water I'll need you pulling me back from the edge.

Are there any takers out there who want to start this with me? Let me know, we'll watch each others back...and butts...to make sure we're staying on track. To arms my fellow soldiers, let's take our bodies back!!

Whip me up!

I am launching a new weekly segment called Whip Me Up!  I’ll be posting my favorite recipes and kitchen tips each Friday and encourage you to send in your favorites as well. If you are submitting recipes please send them in the comment section of the blog…I will personally try each one out and post them in the following week’s blog along with a shout-out to the wonderful chef who submitted them.

Today I want to start out with something to warm the cockles of your heart…clam chowder. In October I was in Cape Cod and Martha’s Vineyard with some girlfriends for a week.  We ate clam chowder every day from seaside alcoves in towns called Oak Bluffs, Chatham, Edgartown, Vineyard Haven and Woods Hole. The air held a lingering salty, sea mist that was beginning to cool off with the impending fall. Clam chowder or “chowda” as the locals called it was the perfect compliment to the cooling temperatures. Made with the freshest ingredients it was truly a mealtime favorite!

This recipe came highly recommended from a local restaurateur and my favorite addition to this meal is to serve it with fresh baking powder biscuits (that recipe will come another day).

CAPE COD CLAM CHOWDER

1 pint shucked clams, chopped (or 2-6 oz cans minced clams)

2 pieces bacon, cut up

4 med. Potatoes, peeled and diced

½ c. chopped onion

2 ½ c. milk

1 c. light cream

3 tbsp. Flour

½ tsp. Worcestershire sauce

Drain clams, reserving liquid. Add enough water to reserved liquid to measure 2 cups, set aside. In a large saucepan fry bacon until crisp and set aside. Add reserved liquid, potatoes and onion to bacon fat. Cook, covered, for about 15 mins. or until potatoes are tender. Stir in clams, 2 cups milk and the light cream. Whisk the flour with the last ½ c. milk and pour into the chowder. Cook and stir until bubbling, and then cook 1 minute more. Add Worcestershire sauce, ¾ tsp. salt and a dash of pepper. Sprinkle the bacon on top and serve.

Serves 6.

So, practice your culinary craftiness this weekend and WHIP SOMETHING UP! Let me know what you thought about this recipe by sending me your comments…and stay tuned for next week’s recipe!

BTW, this cute little number gave me the inspiration for the title "Whip Me Up"!

True Colors...a testament to friendship

I'm sitting in a very familiar place...on my butt~haha! I am in the Edmonton airport waiting for a flight out to Boston to meet up with 2 friends from my childhood who I have not seen for a couple of years. We have made a pact to get together every two years which sounds like it shouldn't be too hard but when you consider that one lives in Pennsylvania, the other one in Texas and me from sunny northern Alberta it takes a bit of planning.

Two years ago we all met up in Texas and spent a couple of days together at a grad reunion. The time was short and we had to make every moment count. We holed ourselves up in our room and gabbed our brains out. As grad reunions go, there were many people there that we should have been catching up with but somehow we seemed to gravitate to each other effortlessly and stuck to each other like glue.

Friday afternoon arrival turned into Saturday which turned into Sunday. Too much wine and good talk combined with no sleep for 2 days straight took a drastic toll on my countenance. Ok, I'll be straight with you...I looked like crap! My eyes...red rimmed, puffy with black circles rounding out a raccoon-like appearance.  I had a massive headache that had me popping Advil like candy and when I stopped talking and tried to start again I couldn't.  Not from lack of trying, more from vocal chords that said "enough" and refused to cooperate further.

When I arrived home my poor husband was sure I had been assaulted somewhere along the way not realizing that I had willingly signed up for the ass-whooping and the other two looked as bad as me! What a great time!!! And that brings me to today, sitting in the airport getting ready to meet up with my girls again.

They say with age comes wisdom and I'm here to say AMEN to that. We are way smarter this time...no more 3 days together, this time we are spending almost a week together with the intention of getting at least 4 hours of sleep every night and maybe some spa time with cool cucumber presses to erase the bags and black under-eye circles before we get home. All bets are off with the wine though, no promises there!

From Boston we will be heading to Cape Cod and then over to Martha's Vineyard. Pics to follow as well as stories from the road trip...I'm quite sure there will be many colorful moments and I can't wait to see what I look like on the way home after a whole week with these two, good times!

Conquering the mountain named "FEAR"

Today is the day I have set aside to pull out my garden. It signals the end of the planting year and a promise of cooler days to come. I enjoy fall for that very reason...all the work you've put into caring for the garden and the flowers and the lawn and the trees (yes I want it to be over) gets to take a rest under a thick blanket of snow for the winter.





Hubby bought me this lovely watering can early in the Spring and it's bright orange color infused me with excitement for the coming growing season. Yes...a watering can. I know, small minds and all that. I was inspired by thoughts of all the lovely veggies I would be harvesting in the fall. My garden boxes tend to lose moisture quickly so the watering can was perfect and well, cute.

My garden grew surprising well this year as I had to battle our cat looking for a ready-made litter box, our dog being half cousin to a deer and grazing on all the tender new shoots popping out of the ground and momma barn swallows who decided I was an enemy that needed to be annihilated.

 

I was utterly amazed that from some tiny seeds came 3 five gallon pails of cucumbers! It got me thinking about about how the seeds we plant turn into something other than what the seeds looked like when first stuck into the ground! How does a small seed turn into a large cucumber? It starts off all dried out and crinkled up but with the proper growing conditions it flourishes into something juicy and satisfying.

 

Harvest only happens because you've sown something into fertile soil. That goes for fruit bearing (or veggies) or weeds. Fruit bearing seeds we take really good care of right? First of all we deliberately plant them, then water them, cultivate around them to rid their tender roots of weeds, stand vigil over them in order to shield them from preying pests.

 

Weed seeds seem to float in on the wind. They also love good cultivated soil and seem to grow more quickly than their counterparts. Somehow they are untouched by other roots and in fact choke out the carefully seeded plants, spreading a mass of death over everything in their path. If not dealt with quickly and forcibly removed, the good harvest you hoped for will never materialize and you will be left in the fall filling your wheelbarrow with a heap of junk for the burn pile or garbage disposal.

 

I was reminded in Matthew 13:20 where it talks about how something as small as a mustard seed can grow into a large tree. The tree looks nothing like the seed that was planted...when it matures it becomes something much larger and overpowering with the ability to have a significant affect on all that stands nearby. The reality, whether we like it or not, remains...what we sow we will harvest either for good or bad, fruits and veggies or weeds.

 

When we plant seeds of faith, they too grow. Sometimes they have started out so small that you may even need a microscope to see them. But what happens when we plant something and nurture it? IT GROWS! So the challenge to myself and to you today is to ensure that we are nurturing seeds of faith that we want to grow. Let's yank out all the weed seeds of fear, anger, bitterness and so on that seem to have embedded themselves in our lives and are choking out our freedom. Matthew 17:20 talks about faith having the ability to move mountains and believe me, no weed infested "faith garden" is going to make that happen.

 

Let's go and get some dirt under our fingernails!!

 

 

 

 

 

My DO-BETTER day...



I saw this beautiful sunrise this morning and I had to snap a pic. So pretty...the sun trying to peek above the horizon, color infused sky with a smattering of clouds. I ran outside and crouched behind my dahlia's to try to capture the essence of what I was seeing and upon looking at the pic I had taken~realized there was no way of doing that.

The air was crisp and clean with a hint of a breeze. I could smell the remnants of combining and the straw that had been left in the field.  I could hear our two baby hawks that are now full grown as they called to each other from the top of the Spruce tree's where they used to nest but now come back just to check up on the place. Somehow all of those things were lost in the picture itself.

I guess I realized it's a new day...DUH! Seriously, I had already had my coffee so it wasn't a fog induced coma type of thought. It was a full blown smack me up-side the head kind of thought that today I get to do better.

Better at being the kind of person I would like to be friends with, better at being the kind of wife I always envisioned myself to be, better at encouraging others like I need to be encouraged, and better at being at peace with the "me" I have become.

So, happy TODAY everyone~make it a good one!

Gold Digger

I found myself sitting in the one of the most expensive hair salons in Vancouver back in the mid 80's, Suki's. High end~totally. Muted lighting bathed the hallway entrance into the salon, pictures graced the walls showcasing beautiful women with trendy, perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect posture...just.perfect. I had shown up in a pair of too tight jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days which hadn't bothered me at all until I looked around~had the other women dressed up especially to come here or were they all going out somewhere important after their appointments? Must be...who would come to a hair salon decked out like a gold digger on her first date with a billionaire only to have their hair cut and styled?

What in the heck was I doing in this place I thought to myself? $30 for a cut and style was an outrageous amount of money to spend when my last haircut had only cost $8.50. Well, maybe that was why I was there, my last haircut...I was currently sporting a hair-do that resembled a poodle at a dog groomers who had not wanted to sit still, now bearing the unmistakable markings of a clipper gone wild.  Uneven patches pockmarked my head and bits of a fringe that had been forgotten fell over my forehead and into my eyes, periodically blinding me.

My name was called and I was ushered into the inner sanctum of coiffed hairdome. I honestly don't remember much about the next two hours except to say that I was miraculously transformed into something resembling normal, which under the circumstances was a massive feat of genius. I felt beautiful, pampered, indulged and worth every penny of the money I had laid down at the till.  I never could afford to go back but it launched a quest to find a great hairdresser who could perform miracles without costing a fortune.

When I look back over the hair styles I've tried over the years I realized they all reflected how I was feeling about myself at any given time. I tried boring, I tried outrageous, I tried chopped off and permed tight, colored, short on one side and long on the other. I let my hair grow for 8 months one time without a cut or style...try to guess how I was feeling about myself at that point!

Finally I found the perfect hairdresser. She was cutting edge (haha) and trendy. Her salon was decorated beautifully and being there was an experience in sensory delight. Flowers, music...ambiance! All of her staff were professional and courteous leaving you with the distinct impression that this was more than a job to them, it was a mission to make you all that you could be. How I loved going there.

One day the inevitable happened, I had an affair. I found another hairdresser who promised dizzying new heights of pouf-pouf hair perfection at a cheaper cost. At that time I was a full time mom to three little ones, run off my feet with diapers, snotty noses and spilled cheerios and little money to spare on personal pampering. I had no time or energy to spend making myself beautiful, knowing full well that there was no haircut on the planet that would hide the bags under my eyes and tell-tale pouch where my abs used to be. As I sat in the chair my new hairdresser told me all the things my ears wanted to hear but my eyes knew were lies. I was ashamed...but how could I go back? My old hairdresser would never forgive the indiscretion and I couldn't live with myself knowing that I had let someone else wash my hair. The cheaper price ended up costing me a lot more than I bargained for.

I spent a number of years wandering in the valley of horrid hair when I realized one day that maybe I could go back...maybe she was ready to forgive me. Maybe if I showed her how sorry I was and asked her to fix the last louse-up of my locks she would take me back! I hesitantly picked up the phone and made the call.

Rhonda! Is that you? I haven't talked to you in so long, how have you been? I was speechless, couldn't hardly sputter I was so shocked. She wasn't mad? She didn't hang up the phone when I identified myself? Hadn't I sullied myself with another for the past number of years? Yet here she was, happy to hear from me again. I booked an appointment, crazy with the anticipation of once again having the perfect salon experience that I had been so desperately missing.

The grass is not always greener on the other side ladies...and if it is you'd better beware~she doesn't know how to mix her chemicals that's all I can say. If you have a great hairdresser don't be going off an looking for another. I won the lotto, kicked the coverage~whatever you want to say, all I know is that I will never leave again. Good hair makes a woman feel like she can conquer the world so if you're feeling a little down and out, book an appointment at your favorite salon and get pampered a bit. Immerse yourself in some "you" time and when you are done you'll be ready to tackle your life again.  Case in point...my new hairspray tells it like it is~

 

 



I feel like a queen!

 

The Little Bitty Itchy Bite...

I'll gladly say it...I'm old school. At this moment I am listening to Madonna's "holiday" and there are smokin' booty~shakin gyrations going down in this house...OK I'm chair dancing~that's the extent of it and the shaking gyrations, well, that's my muffin top trying to keep up with my rear end.  The music is cranked up and my tiny computer speakers are screeching with the exertion...or is that Madonna?


Chair dancing (although fun) does not qualify as exercise! It seems like I am making all kinds of excuses in my mind to get out of working up a sweat good and proper-like. Seriously, it's come down to me washing out cupboards and wiping down walls to get out of it...that's how desperate I am.


My running shoes sit at the door mocking me, my shorts are washed and ready to go with a shirt, sports bra and socks in a tidy little pile in my bathroom. Somehow having it neatly arranged makes me feel like I've already done something productive, minus of course the burn in my lungs~ the accelerated heart rate~ the sweat dripping down my back~ the rhythmic pumping of my arms and legs as I get past the "wall" and start floating without labored breathing. Oh how great it feels the be done a good run, the sense of accomplishment...what in the heck am I waiting for?

~THE REASON~

I have a horrible problem, everything I do needs to have a reason for it. I am goal oriented and work well under pressure and actually need pressure to motivate me so here I sit...chair dancing when I should be outside getting rid of my chub-rub.

Maybe you're wondering what chub-rub is. Let me give you a visual aid...picture this scene in your mind. It was very hot, dry and dusty. Our breath was catching in our throats from the occasional whisper of wind that would unsettle the powdery soil under our feet. It was only day 2 of our ascent to Everest Base Camp but we already felt like we'd been given an ass whopping after the easy terrain and beautiful scenery of day 1.

The rocky path stretched up as far as our eyes could see in an almost vertical wall face that somehow we were supposed to climb. There was an unpleasant odor in the air that we couldn't put our finger on, and besides the occasional rumble from our guide, it never seemed to change.

The bells would signal it...panic! We clutched and crawled our way to the mountain side of the path after reading in our guide book that tourists die each year in the Himalaya's because they go to the cliff side of the path when a yak train comes along and then get pushed over.  As the yaks pass we notice a couple of things~each yak has a bell around it's neck that is different in size and sound from every other yak in the train. The herder knows each yak by the sound of it's bell and would often throw a rock at the backside of one who was getting out of line. The other thing that became apparent, was that the fine dust we had been trampling over was actually yak dung ground into minuscule particles!

We understood very quickly that we needed to set a smooth, easy pace that was slow enough for everyone without losing our momentum because at that point if we could have turned around we might have! Our guide took up the rear and we started single file. We all took turns setting pace and when it was my turn I settled into a steady rhythm. One, two, three ,four, one, two, three, four. The air was so still and quiet, there were few other groups around and the world seemed hushed as we concentrated on having just enough energy to put one foot in front of the other.

There was a soft swish~swish~swish~swish sound that kept us in a trance like state, it's cadence lulling us into a nether-world of mountains already conquered and victories already won. When we stopped, the sound stopped, when we started climbing again, the sound came again...and that's when I realized what it was. Chub-rub. Yup, all this idyllic talk and here my pace was being set by the sound of my inner thighs rubbing together! I guess it was good for something.

There was nothing left of my inner thighs when we got back from that trip...they'd all been rubbed off and I was ecstatic about that! So here it is, July, the month I usually get the itch to book another trip for late winter...probably has more to do with the size of my muffin top and chub-rub than with the time of year it is. I need the reason to get out for a good long run, burn some hard core calories in a super-set weight session. I need the anxiety and exhilaration of  a rewarding adventure at the end of all my hard work that I know I have paid dearly for, but it will be worth it all.

And so it begins...



TO SPANDEX OR NOT...

Ann Landers wrote an advice column many years ago in response to someones question regarding if they should follow their heart and pursue an opportunity that had come along. This was her response...

"Don't be afraid to fail"

You've failed many times although you don't remember

You fell down the first time you tried to walk

You almost drowned the first time you tried to swim

Did you hit the ball the first time you swung the bat?

Heavy hitters, the ones who hit the most home runs , also strike out a lot

R.H. Macy failed 7 times before his store in New York caught on

Novelist John Creasy got 753 rejection slips before he published 564 books

Babe Ruth hit 714 home runs, but also struck out 1,330 times

The message is: don't worry about failure

Worry instead about the chances you miss when you don't even try

Hubby was cruising through the Edmonton Journal one day and found this little article and cut it out for me. That was probably 18 years ago and I still have it posted on my bulletin board at home and have a copy of it pinned to my office wall at work.

"Don't be afraid to fail"...those words have propelled me to do a great many things in my life that I would not have had the courage to do under normal circumstances.  Things like climb mountains, take new job opportunities, share my quirky view of the world with you, have tough conversations that I normally shy away from, take Spanish lessons and try new activities.

One of those activities was speed skating.  There is a local club not far from home and last winter we were looking for an activity that would not only be a good workout but also a great place to get together socially with other people. 

The club organizer is very enthusiastic and his excitement rubbed off on us.  Before we knew what was happening we had purchased new skates and paid up our fees.  It was only after our cash investment that I thought to ask what exactly the sport would do for us from a fitness standpoint.  He told us that it is a great cardio workout (sounds good), that our legs would get stronger (really good), quads would get tight (ah, speaking my language) and bulk up a bit (what? no...no...noooo). And last but not least our butts would probably get firmer and bigger due to the technique (ayyyyyy).  Ok, right at that point I wanted my money back because due to the genetic disposition of the fat cell dispensation on my body, anything that makes me bigger in the lower regions is definitely a NO-GO!

I was trapped. A little voice in my head said "don't be afraid to fail"  to which I told the little voice to shut up. Being a success at this would mean a big butt and thighs to match.  What to do, what to do?  Press on was my decision and to heck with the consequences.

I must admit that I was a little apprehensive...I have never done much skating before and speed skates have crazy long blades that are hard enough to maneuver around, never mind my klutz factor (which always has to be considered).  After getting onto the ice the first time and making one round on the short track oval without wiping out I figured I was good to go.  It was the beginning of my weekly dose of humiliation.

In front of people I fell, tripped, flapped my arms like a bird and generally made a nuisance of myself as the more highly skilled skated circles around me...literally. Getting around the corners of the oval was terrifying and doing "cross-overs" was impossible because I was scared  to lift my feet off the ice.

I learned many valuable lessons like:
- blades should be sharp, that way if you can do cross-overs, you won't fall
- wear a wrist guard on the left wrist so that when you do fall you won't break your wrist
- wear tight fitting pants so (again) when you fall and slide on the ice, you won't leave your pants behind
- when you fall make sure you fall towards the padding along the walls so that you don't get the wind knocked out of you
- and lastly, stay flexible so that when you fall you can get up again very quickly...maybe so quickly that no one even realized you were down to begin with
- oh, and don't be afraid to fall, um, I mean fail

The turning point came when I stopped caring what others were thinking about me and decided to just let loose and figure it out, even if it meant looking bad, which I had already had lots of practice with.  I realized that over time I was staying on my feet longer, getting better with technique and enjoying myself a lot!

So, after wrapping up the first season of speed skating I had a decision to make.  Would I sign up again for this coming winter?  I made my decision when the organizer brought spandex suits for each of us to try on...we would look like a team, cohesive, official, athletic.  I put mine on, very aware of the many things I have tried to hide with baggy pants and big shirts.  Isn't there a rule somewhere about spandex and people over 40? I always thought there should be...anyhow, I just broke the rule and bought the pants. 

Hubby flipped out the blades from my skates and installed the balls to convert them to roller blades, so I'll be hitting the road to train to for the winter speed skating season.  Luckily to-date there has been no sign of an enlarged butt or thunder thighs, only a feeling of accomplishment that I tackled something brand new and fell in love with it even though it was a challenge.

Stay active my friends...

Fish Slapped...

Nostalgia~ For me a soft feather, floating on the wind of days past.  Looking back and remembering a time that was simpler, clearer, sweeter, more vibrant than today can ever seem to be.

I was caught the other day in a moment that took away my breath and resurrected all kinds of forgotten things.  The vivid picture in my mind went further than merely an incident, but encompassed all five senses and took me back in time fully.

When I moved into this area and got married I felt like I never quite fit in.  Could it have been the wild haircut, the 6 holes in my ears, the loud (albeit artfully applied) make-up?  Was it possible that I was young, very outspoken and idealistic? Naw of course not...it had to be my winning personality!

The reality was that I didn't fit into the ethnic people group I was living amongst, nor did I fit into the religious group I was worshiping with and I didn't fit into the family I'd married into with their traditions and perceived expectations.  I felt very alone.

And then I met my friend.  We became close as our kids were in the same classes at school and played on the same sports teams.  We soon discovered that we had many similar hobbies and interests and spent many mornings together over a cup of coffee working through our mothering struggles and joys.  We laughed and cried together over our successes and carried each other's burdens over our failures.

My friend's birthday is one day after my husband's and often we would celebrate together.  Our anniversary is on the same day of the same year as theirs and it seemed so easy to mesh our lives together, our family with theirs.

On my husband's birthday this year my mind went back to the last time my friend and I were together celebrating both of their birthday's.  We had a big group of people over and had eaten lots of great food, played games and were enjoying each other's company.  My friend and I sat on the couch and were taking the opportunity to catch up with each other.  I hugged her as a premonition overcame me that this time would pass too soon.

Sure enough, one day she came over with the news that her family was moving.  All I can liken it to was the feeling one would get having a huge tuna slapped across your face.  To say that I was heartbroken would be grossly understating what was going through my heart and mind. 

I guess the interesting thing is that time has softened the pain of her leaving but has not dulled the beauty that she brought to my life.  Through her friendship I realized that I didn't have to fit in ethnically as much as stand up for my own brand of authenticity in the community.  I didn't have to worship like everyone else, because God wanted my worship to be as unique as he created me to be~ there would be purity in my offering.  I also didn't have to feel intimidated by this rooted and wonderfully strong family I married into as my life experience would be woven together as part of their story as well.  Most of all, she encouraged me to live each day as a celebration of the good God had blessed me with by illustrating it in her own life.

I wondered the other day if I had been "IN" all of those moments we'd spent together.  Had I enjoyed each visit we'd had to the fullest?  Did I tell her how beautiful she was, did I have enough compassion for her hurts, did I cry enough tears to let her know how deeply I cared about her?  I pray so because there is no going back, no do-over, no second chances in those moments that slip so easily away. 

And so I am left only with this day.  I decided to drink deeply of today, be present in each moment.  Laugh loud, commend inner beauty, celebrate the smallest of achievements.  Hold the hand of the burdened, cry hard, compassionately walk beside the broken.  I want today to be as simple as a memory of yesterday always seems to be.  To be as quiet and warm, as welcoming and embracing as I remember days long past have been.

Hugs~n~hearts
Rhonda 

Let's get naked!

CAUTION...

The following is intended

to make you lose your layers~

I was 10.  It was a warm day, the sultry air was barely moving as sweat dripped down my face and neck.  I had constructed a paper fan thinking it would bring some measure of relief but was disappointed when the humidity softened it until it hung limply in my hand.  

My brother languished beside me on the back steps of our house, usually we were pestering each other but all we'd had energy to do was eat popsicles and let our dog lick the sticks clean.  What on earth could we do for some fun that would make this heat bearable?  My mom had the perfect idea, we were going swimming to the Greek pool!

You might be asking...what is a Greek pool?  It's not a "what", it's a "where".  I grew up in Arusha, Tanzania in East Africa and on the outskirts of town there was a Greek school that had a pool which non-Greek people were allowed to use occasionally.  It was a long drive from home but we excitedly got our swimming suits on, grabbed extra clothes and towells and headed out. 

The school compound was encompassed within a high cement wall and had a large gated entrance.  I held my breath to see if someone had left us a key so we could get in, only to realize that we were not the only one's there!  Some other friends had had the same idea and were already parked down by the pool, their mom's dropping them off with promises to return in a couple of hours.

Excitedly my brother and I waved as my mom drove away, nothing could be better than swimming for the afternoon in the outdoor pool with our friends!  We jumped in, doing cannonballs and splashing each other with reckless abandon, screaming and laughing at each other's antics.  As with all kids...things seemed to get sillier and sillier as the afternoon progressed. 

Honestly I don't remember whose idea it was at first, all I know is that we all loved it and giggled uncontrollably at the delicious thoughts...this was going to be FUN!  There were six of us in an Olympic sized pool and so we figured there wouldn't be a problem!  The plan was to swim to the outer edges of the pool, each of us as far apart as possible to avoid any unpleasant circumstances...count to three and let 'er rip. 

So, we all did as agreed. ONE, TWO, THREE~thwump...six sets of bathing suits went flying in the air and landed on the hot cement pool deck far out of reach.  We laughed and giggled and swam in very small circles, careful not to get too close to anyone else in case they could see us in all of our childhood glory.  I loved the feeling of freedom, the water was cool against my skin and there were no barriers to weigh me down. 

It was at that point that we realized we had a small problem.  Our bathing suits were beyond reach and our mothers would be returning soon~what were we going to do?  No one wanted to be first out of the water and being the brave sister that I am promptly nominated my brother, who just as promptly told me to take a hike and so we were at an impasse.  All of a sudden we heard a vehicle coming down the road and held our breath, eyes wide with the terror that only children being very naughty could understand.  We needed a plan! 

Desperation has a way of helping us become creative and so on the count of three we decided to turn around towards the pool edge and jump out~ NO PEEKING~run for our suits and pull them on before our mamma's got there.  ONE~TWO~THREE out we went, streaking buck naked for our suits, pulling, tugging and almost ripping them in an effort to get them on before anyone else was done and had turned back around.

I have never skinny-dipped since that day but I have also never forgotten what it felt like to be that free.

Rather than freedom I have had fear.  I don't remember a time when I was absolutely free of the tentacled hold fear has had over my life.  When I was young I suffered from re-occurring nightmares that would leave me sweat soaked and terrorized.  As I got older those fears morphed into sophisticated patterns of denial (insecurities) which I grew adept at manipulating so that others would never know how crippled I was on the inside.  The funny thing was, in my efforts to have people think that I had it all together I built a wall around my heart that left me desperately lonely.

In high school I wrote a poem that perfectly captured the essence of what I was feeling...

all alone

and

nowhere

drifting away

ever so softly

to a place

where again I'll be

all alone

and

lonely



My fears became like layers and layers of clothing that began to stifle and choke me.  Insecurity shrouded the essence of ME as I tried to protect myself from being hurt.

To say that I have all of my fears dealt with at this point would be a lie.  I guess what I have learned over time is that I must find the truth and rely on God's viewpoint to be my compass and guide.  Part of that is removing the layers that I have added in my life for protection and facing my fears head-on.

So I challenge you today to get naked!  Be courageous and intentional in removing the layers of fear and insecurity that have bound you.  I named this blog "fearless...the anthology" because I wanted to hear the thwump again and feel the freedom.  If I can do it you can too so ONE~TWO~THREE...let's go! 

Officer...I want to report a burglary!

Desolation comes over you when you've been burglarized... fear, an anger that screams aloud for retribution, feelings of the loss of control and a decision to ensure it'll never happen again.  All over STUFF that's been stolen from you.  We get righteously indignant and demand justice but it's still just stuff.

To be honest we haven't had anything stolen from us lately but I came across a you tube clip talking about what Facebook and Google don't want us to know and felt like I had been robbed.  The info was mildly interesting until Mark Z, founder of FB, was quoted as saying that the squirrel dying in your front yard has become more important than children dying in Africa (loosely paraphrased).   I blew a gasket...WHAT?  Has personal trivia become more important than death, disease, war, famine?  More important than getting out into the world and making a difference in someone's life? 

Apparently so...we're ridiculously happy sitting on our ever-expanding butts, creeping other people's lives through a computer screen and seem to have lost the compassion for societal issues that are all around us.  I am mad that I have allowed something dear to be stolen from me...

                                    

                                                   TIME

I admit that in the last several years I have thought very little about the theft of my time and the toll it has taken in my life.  I seem to have ignored the thievery and have actually accepted it as commonplace and *GASP* normal! 

I am ashamed to say that I have been a willing accomplice in this theft.  Not only have I left the door unlocked, but heavens...put out the welcome mat and drew a map of where to find the good china! 

I guess the only thing to do is take it back... one way is to start blogging more often.  I love to write and somehow in the midst of my twilight zone I let that lapse.  I love my freinds and want to spend more time connecting with them.  I also love to read and have committed to myself that this year I will read 12 biographies of fascinating people who changed their world long before anyone ever thought of writing a book about them. 

I have purchased my first book~ Bonhoeffer...very excited to dig into it.  Of course right off the bat I encountered a hiccup as I was making my list of 12...I only had #1 and couldn't think of any others!

INPUT REQUESTED PLEEEEEEEZE~ I would like your feedback on any biographies that you think are exceptional and worthy of a spot on my list of 12 for 2012.  Send me a comment about which one you like or think I should read and if I agree I will post it on the blog along with your name and recommendation of it!

ps~thanks for your patience as I set up this new blog.  If you're looking for me I'll be here to chat, hang out and share life with you...you'll miss me if you try to find me anywhere else haha!

Hearts~n~Hugs
Rhonda