Post-Thanksgiving

Sometimes it’s best to just sit alone in your pajamas and moan after you’ve eaten a turkey meal. Or be a cat. Then you don’t care about sprawling, gaping, or grooming in public. (Scotch is one of Marsena’s cats.)

Thanks Be to God

I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Am going to be away for a while longer. We’re leaving in a few minutes for Chicago -- spending Thanksgiving with Marsena, Jeff, and Aunt Ruth. We are taking stuff for an antipasto plate, the best veggie will be the organic jingle bells – sweet little red peppers. Also bringing lemon chess pie – a recipe from a friend from Jackson, Mississippi. I’ve been behind in all areas. My desk is three feet deep. There is some kind of icky thing living in the bathroom grout. I’m adjusting to new chemicals. Have had more manuscript rejections. But. Am thankful. Last weekend good friends put us up for a night in a very swish hotel in Mpls. (The Ivy Tower) Man, what a bed! And the bathroom! Have I ever told you I could live in a bathroom? The sun is shining. We get to drive through rural Wisconsin and I get to drink a CaribouCoffee soy latte. Plus I read three chapters in Job this morning, which had a way of reminding me that suffering is no stranger to human life. Am leaving Mac at home so can't post comments until return. Warm blessings to all.

How was your day?

It’s been snowing, sleeting, raining today depending on the hour. I’m having trouble with my neck and every day as I sit down to write the next issue of Notes from Toad Hall I have trouble concentrating. Am trying to be matter-of-fact about this slow-down. Today I thought, no matter the weather, I’ll walk down to Caribou, get a coffee, (as a treat – first time in a week, honest) come back here and get busy. I grabbed a little cash. Left the door unlocked, cell on desk, no key (stupid woman), and out into the sleet. Ran into Darcy, the manager, who told me all about the two new puppies she and her boyfriend are getting. The other barista needed to tell me about how on the way to work today she saw a car spin out and total the car next to her. Stupid drivers! she said. It took longer than I planned. Walked back home in rain and cold. Meanwhile a friend who’s been sleeping at our house left and responsibly locked the door.

Denis is sick. He’d gone back to bed with a noise machine going. I rang the doorbell over and over. Pounded on the door again and again. Stood on the porch watching it snow for twenty minutes. Drank my coffee to keep warm. Banged on the door some more hoping the vibrations would penetrate the bedroom. Useless. I went around to the side yard, thought about throwing a brick up at the window. And (brilliant woman) realized he might hear me call since the window is slightly open so we can sleep in arctic temperatures under polar tech. I bellowed, DENIS! Finally woke him up and he let me in. He said he dreamed that someone was making jewelry with little hammers. He felt bad, I felt sheepish and dispirited.

I won’t be ending this with … and so, I’m grateful for shelter, meaningful work, a husband who loves me despite all, because it’s Veteran’s Day and there is no mail which means the netflix I was hoping for won’t be arriving, and because I’m a petty, fallen, indulgent creature. …maybe tomorrow.

The Best Hummus

The other day I bought a carton of Roasted Red Pepper Hummus at Trader Joe’s. I should never go into that store because it’s like the third level of hell for seduction. Organic Chocolate bars. (Not that good.) Three Buck Chuck. (Cheap, but worse than David Haase's Dandelion wine.) Chocolate covered blueberries. (They look pretty.) Toasted macadamia nuts. (Stale.) Maple syrup Grade B? Grade A? You’d think the hummus would be okay. But, no. It tasted moldy and had way too much garlic or something. This is the second try for hummus this year. Apparently I forget how good it is when you make it yourself. And doesn’t cost much either. This is really easy but you’ve got to think ahead one day so you can get the beans soaking. You might even want to double it, you'll love yourself if you do.


Hummus
Begin by soaking one cup of garbanzo beans for 24 hours. Not just overnight. Place in saucepan with 1 t. olive oil, bring to a boil and simmer until beans are tender, about one hour. Stir occasionally. Add more water if necessary to keep them covered. When garbanzos are done, they still have substance and are a little al dente. Drain, reserving the broth. Cool.
Option: Substitute 1 can of garbanzo beans if you must. Drain, reserve broth.

Place beans in blender. Along with:

1 large clove garlic, chopped
3 T. fresh lemon juice
½ t. ground cumin
¼ c. tahini (ground sesame seeds)
(Flavor improves if you can wait to eat it.)

Blend, adding broth until you like the consistency. Spoon onto a shallow dish, drizzle with a little olive oil and sprinkle a bit of red chile flakes on the top.
Serve with pita, chips, crackers, what ever sounds good.

Farmers of this kind

The first time I met Joe & Becca I thought they might be brother and sister with their tawny red hair, fair skin, and earth-toned woolen sweaters. They are related, but as husband and wife, not siblings. It’s weird how some people get wired, I mean, just made with certain gifts. Either one of them can do about anything with their hands – music, carpentry, wool-making, raise 50 varieties of heirloom tomatoes, and make killer lasagna.


I am seduced, awed, like maybe if I did life over again, this time I’d be them and get a farm, too. A lot has happened in three years since they married, moved to Stony Kill, New York, where for the first season they lived in a tent at the garden’s edge, and for two more seasons continued to manage an organic vegetable farm, saving every penny to buy land in SE Minnesota. Because they’ve been researching, because Joe’s father is also an organic farmer living in this area, and because they know their calling and have prayed so many times for guidance – when forty acres of land went up for sale at a great price, they bought it.









A couple weeks ago Denis and I drove out to see their land. It’s a property with some good sheds, a barn, and a condemned house. The barn floor was covered with freeze dried horse manure. No one has loved this farm in a long time. It’s overgrown with nettles and brambles. Fences are falling down. There junk piles. But hidden in tall grass we found a ray of red against the curse of thorns – a handful of tomatoes, a green pepper, and parsnip – volunteers from some old garden.



This is where their life will begin in December when they return to Minnesota and see the farm in reality for the first time – their work in NY hasn’t allowed any time away before then. The good price of the land allowed them to buy twice what they’d hoped, so Joe will be able to keep horses to help reclaim the soil and begin a vegetable farm. They plan to build a straw bale home next year. They know better than to think this will all be easy, having suffered in ways themselves. But they also know God is pleased when they make beautiful soil and good food from creation.

Next February I will be interviewing them for a workshop at the 2009 L’Abri conference. Hearing their story, their dreams, witnessing their energy for raising local food is a small, but significant push back against a fallen world. Or perhaps it’s a way of listening more intently to the groans of creation.

Our Stories

Katy sent me this song by Brandi Carlisle on a mix. I think I like best this unpolished video version from the studio. So, you probably heard it during Grey’s Anatomy, or the Olympics. I think GM used it. I may be the last person to note it. The lyrics “…all these stories don’t mean a thing if you got no one to tell them to…”
…this weekend as I lead a women’s retreat, I can’t help but think that the art of caring for one another, showing hospitality includes the sweetness and work of hearing one another’s stories in a safe place, even though they may be sad ones. But we have hope in God that even they, may one day prove to be a part of our redemption.

Bawling for God-sake

From daughter, Sember:

I too am so looking forward to Christmas. And yes I will probably cry. But it is good to cry. Especially when one is crying for such a lovely reason. It felt good to let myself realize in the moment that this is hard. And do what I needed physically in order to deal with what I was living emotionally in a way that God created me to do. So, in other words crying is Godly. And as such and because of the time I have clocked weeping, sobbing, crying, pouting, and general boo-hooing, I am damn near the most devout, Godly person I know.