Proud of Myself

I'm feeling pretty proud of myself tonight. This afternoon I successfully tackled a small plumbing project. I installed a new fill valve in the upstairs toilet.

OK, yes, I know, my life is more exciting than the average person's, what can I say?

Not only am I pleased I was able to fix it, but I love the fact that what would have been an $80 bill was an $11.47 cent bill for the part.

Frankly, when you need to do the same, tackle it yourself. The hardest part was loosening the nut to remove the old one. It was very simple - and mine looks just like the picture on the instructions. You can't beat that.

Overall I've had a very productive few days, even without the plumbing work. I did my taxes, and got an art show application in the mail. Greg helped me move my writing desk downstairs and also unload some stuff at my office. I also fixed a webpage problem for him at www.thelope.com. It wasn't a big deal, but just required having some time to sit down and work on it. I also did a lot of "life stuff" as well as some MHA stuff. I even had time for fun at the MCC sale.

We went back out there Saturday, and I bought yet more vintage linens and some cloth. We also ate lunch there. I love the Bohne Beroggi. I used to pick up the Bohne Beroggi recipe they offer every year, and even posted it before. I didn't bother this year because I'm obviously never going to make it. It doesn't sound appealing. It doesn't look appealing. But it's delicious. Honest.

Frankly, every year we photograph the food, and other than the pie, it's all white. It's amazing. If you were trying to avoid white food, which some nutritionists suggest, you'd be so out of luck. The relish tray has carrots, celery and pickles on it, and the pie has some color depending on the flavor, and the borscht, but there's a lot of white food there. Verenike is white, the ham gravy you put over it is white, the bohne beroggi is white, the sauce it's in is white, the zwiebach is white, etc. - you get the idea.

But I do love the little glimpse into another world it sometimes gives you.

Work and Life

I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed these days. It seems I can't get everything done I need to do in any area of my life. I can't even do everything I *want* to do, much less everything I'm *supposed* to do. And I feel overwhelmed enough that I'm practically incapacitated and not getting anything done. Obviously, I have to snap out of that. And quick.

This is a really busy work week, as well as a week in which I have some personal commitments, and I'm feeling the pressure. I have my monthly board meeting on Tuesday, which always requires some preparation. I also need to do some prep work for things that are down the road, but will be here before I know it.

I also have my United Way meeting on Thursday. That is an incredibly nerve-wracking experience. You go before a board of about 15 community volunteers and state your case for the United Way money your agency gets. It's not that it's a bad system, but it is hard on my stomach lining.

Because the agency I run can't point to the people we serve because of privacy issues, it's hard to demonstrate what we do. Fortunately, people are understanding of that. Anyway, I'm really dreading it, as I do every year, because it's just so nerve wracking. The volunteers are very kind, and the process is good, but it feels a bit like the inquisition and I don't think there's a way it can't. Four o'clock on Thursday is my time slot if you'd like to send good thoughts my way then - it would be much appreciated.

I'm not sure why just living a life seems to be stressful. There's something very, very wrong with that. Life should not be stressful - it should be happy.

Almost all of the stress in my life comes from work. I like my work - this job is the best one I've ever had and I've had some great jobs. But jobs equal stress and I cannot see any way around that. There's always more to do than there is time to do it. There's always some problem on the horizon. There's always politics.

I know some people just love to go to work, but I cannot wrap my mind around that. I don't hate my job by any means - in fact I feel fortunate to have the job I have. But I don't love my job the way some people do. I love to live my life  - I love to write and paint and work on my house and garden and see friends for lunch and entertain and read and study French and research genealogy and create and travel. None of that relates to having a job. Unfortunately, it also does not relate to getting a paycheck. Hence, the reason for the job.

I don't want to give the impression that my job is unpleasant. It is not. It's a fabulous job and it's truly an honor to be allowed into people's lives the way I am. But it's a job - with commitments and expectations and all the other unpleasantness of having a job because it all adds up to stress. Job = stress. It's as certain as relativity (which is no longer a theory, but a fact).

I think the difference between me and others is that work for me is just work - it's not who I am, it's not my identity, it's not where I get my sense of self, it's not where I get my satisfaction in life, it's not what I'm about, it's not how I define myself. Work is what I do to make money to live life - it's not life.

Life is being surrounded by your loved ones, being there when your friends need you and letting people be there for you. Life is the thrill of a painting that's coming out just the way you imagined, a peach that's perfectly ripe, and learning just by listening to your elders. Life is loving passionately, and being loved without reservation. Life is running your hands over a quilt stitched by your ancestors and feeling the continuity of the generations, it's cooking a meal for friends you care about and whispering "I love you" in the dark.

None of those has anything to do with a job and to be devoted to work dishonors all these things that make up a life. All the jobs I've had I enjoyed on many levels, thought I was doing something positive, and felt good about them - and this one meets all those levels more than any other, but it is still just work. To think of any job as more than that is to diminish the rest of life.

I think it's no accident that most people who are devoted to their jobs have very little "life" outside of them. If they have families they spend little time with them, leaving child rearing to the spouse. They wrack up frequent flyer miles traveling for work but never enjoying anything about the places they go. They think about work first thing in the morning and last thing at night.And they're stressed. And stress kills - literally. There's a reason there are more heart attacks on Monday morning than any other time of the week.

I must find a way to make a living being me.

Tonight was the start of the annual MCC sale. The Mennonite Central Committee raises thousands of dollars at this sale for hunger relief around the world. I'm afraid this weekend's receipts will be lower because of the weather. We have a few inches of snow on the ground. Yes, snow. Lots of snow.



The sale is held at the Kansas State Fairgrounds, not a place I'm used to seeing covered in snow. The fair is held in September, during a week we usually have some hot weather and some cooler weather.


Fairgoers will recognize this as the top of the Olde Mill Ride, at the fair since 1915.


Fortunately, some brave souls were out in the weather, but there were many fewer of us than usual.


It snowed very hard for a few hours, starting late afternoon and continuing into the early evening.


I think this picture embodies the phrase, "bent against the cold." It was 31 degrees, but it seems colder when there's frozen ice pelting you from above. The rain started overnight, then we had rain and sleet briefly, then rain and snow, then just snow.


One of the big attractions of the MCC sale is the traditional German food. We usually have to wait in line, but not today. There was a turnout, but nothing like usual.


The food is all wonderful - everything from Verenike to homemade rolls to new year's cookies to  homemade pies.



And it's all provided by people you know you can trust.


You'll see lots of young people working at the MCC sale, too. It's a multi-generational event.


There are auctions for all sorts of things... small items to large items.



Quilts are big moneymakers at the sale.



I picked up some goodies at the quilter's corner - namely some vintage linens. I'll try to get some photos in the next few days.

My toes are still cold from walking back to the car in the snow and slush. But I'm glad I didn't miss out.

Back to Hutchinson

I am back in Hutchinson - just in time for the impending snow storm. Yes, the "spring snow storm," as the weather people are affectionately calling it. We're supposed to get somewhere between 2 and 10 inches, depending on which news service you listen to, starting tonight and finishing at noon on Saturday. Saturday, by the way, would be the "frost free date" here - just in case you were thinking of putting out some plants.

It's dark so I can't see how my things look from the snow that fell while I was in Kentucky. I'm guessing my tender little oregano and parsley may not have liked being covered with snow. Oh well... so it goes.

Real Men Wear Pink

Since I've been in Kentucky I've been playing with fabric. I've been wanting to make some craft aprons and I found this fabric in Paducah that I thought was perfect to use. Paducah has a lot of fabric because it's "Quilt City."

Besides having access to lots of fabric, my sister in law, Mary Ann, had her sewing machine set up because she has been making quilts. Well, naturally, this was an ideal set up for me to play. So, I did.

I finished this one a couple of days ago. My brother, Jackie, thinks I'm a little crazy to go buy fabric, then cut it up into little pieces and sew it back together. But, Jackie is nothing if not a sport. So, tonight he decided to model the finished product. I think he makes it look even better.



See, real men wear pink. And so do real women.

I made another one tonight that is more subdued in coloring. And I have a couple of others in process.

I can't quilt - it requires too much focused attention for too long of a time. But this gives me all the satsifaction of choosing fabric, without having to commit to the length of time a quilt takes.



The real truth of the matter is that I'm addicted to fabric. And with this sort of project a quarter yard is plenty. So, you get to pick lots of it.




Obviously, the raw materials pale in comparison to Jackie's modelling of the finished product.



Mary Ann decided yesterday that I must belong to her instead of Mama since Mary Ann and I like to do the same sorts of things. Mama sewed when she had to make something but she would have thought this was a bit of an odd way to spend one's time. Mary Ann and I just think it's loads of fun, however.

Lunch with One of My Favorite People on the Planet

I had lunch today with BC and Cathy. BC, my great nephew, has been one of my favorite people on the planet since he arrived here almost 17 years ago. (April 25 is a  shared birthday for him and Jim.) BC has always been someone with a really pleasing personality. He's just fun to be around - he was that way when he was two and he's that way now.

I was tickled that Cathy called me for lunch with them today. It was good to hear what's going on in his life - from being the regional treasurer for FFA to his leadership classes, to his continual starring roles in hunting and fishing videos. I swear, he has a more active calendar than I do. Fortunately, he also has mom, Cathy, to act as organizer. Maybe if Cathy were organizing my life it would run more smoothly, too. Unfortunately, I think BC's schedule is all she can manage.

I visited with Mattie and Jim a bit today and otherwise just worked on MHA stuff on the computer and on my latest sewing project. I'll try to post some photos soon. It is just too tempting - Mary Ann has the dining room set up for making quilts for there's a sewing machine, rotary cutters and boards, an ironing board, etc. So, it's fun to play.

I did manage to capture a neat sunset tonight. Bobby was down and he and Jackie were working on one of Bobby's guns. I glanced out the window and saw there was a neat sunset happening so I jumped in the car to go get a photo where there were no power lines visible. There are still a few places - albeit very few - where you can get such a view.

Easter Sunday Rambling Thoughts

It has been a quiet Easter Sunday here. Jackie and Mary Ann went to sunrise services and then the normal church services this morning and evening. I slept in and then went out to see Jim and Mattie.

I then went to Paducah to get flowers to go on the graves. My mom always put flowers on the graves of my dad, his parents and grandparents, and the grave of my Aunt Eva's first husband, Jesse Pace, and their son, Donnie. She also tended to those of her parents, her sister Audrey and her husband, as well as some great aunts and uncles. Now that my mom is laid to rest beside my dad it is my place to tend the graves. I'm not sure why it's my place, but it is. And so I do, whenever I'm here.

A few years ago I started making at least an annual trip to Murray, Kentucky, where my beloved Aunt LaVerne (Marjorie LaVerne Terrell Duffany Gordon) is buried. Her children live away and her husband remarried and moved on, so she is there by herself, on a beautiful hilltop. I doubt very much it matters to her, but for some reason it matters to me. So, at least once a year I go there and put fresh flowers on her grave. I take the ones that have a bit of life left in them and put them on the gravea of her neighbors in the cemetery.

I have been doing this for some years now, long before my mother died almost six years ago. For some time I did it without anyone knowing. I'm not sure why, but I just did.

Once I went to put flowers on her grave and there were bright, new, fresh flowers on it. I had no idea where they had come from. I inquired at the office and they had no idea. They were not flowers like a florist would send, but ones like an individual would bring. It was a mystery.

I went back to the  local store where I'd just gotten flowers, and bought some plastic bags and put my business card inside the bag, along with a note, explaining who I was and how I was related to her, and asked to be contacted by whoever was putting flowers on her grave. I put it inside the metal vase, so if the flowers were changed out the note would be seen. Each time I went I would write the date on the paper and put it back into the baggie and back inside the vase.

Then one time I went and the note was gone and there were new flowers. The baggie was still there, but the note had been taken. I was sure I would get a phone call or letter, but it never came.

So I started over again, with another piece of paper and another note - this time with work and personal numbers and an email address. Now, a few years later, I've had to start yet another note because the paper was full. Still, no idea of who else puts flowers on her grave. It hasn't happened in a few years now. Has that person moved on? Died? Lost interest?

I still leave a note in a baggie inside the vase each time I put flowers on her grave. Maybe one day the mystery will be solved. Maybe it never will. I do wonder who else loved my Aunt LaVerne enough in life that they remember her in death. Did she have a secret life? Or is it a much simpler explanation?

I often wish Aunt LaVerne were buried in Barlow, along with her parents and grandparents. When she died they lived near Murray, and I suppose it made sense to her to be buried there. Her second husband was from near there. But I don't like it that she's there without any "context." Here there would be context - people would say, "Oh, that was Luther's youngest - she went out to California - then moved back to somewhere around Murray later on..." But, these are things I think about that maybe no one else does. I think about them because of the geneaology research I've been doing off and on for many years. (www.myatt.org)

When your family has largely been in one place for generations, it's easy to accumulate some history - most of it in the graveyard eventually. Our family story is played out there in row after row of the Barlow, Kentucky cemetery - some in the "old cemetery" and some across the road in the "new." In some ways it's quite comforting. There's a continuity in it - somehow everyone lives on because the memories are still alive.

I never met my great grandmother, Randy (short for Maranda Rose Spears Campbell Myatt), but I go visit her grave in Oscar, Kentucky because I know her through the stories of others. I wish she and Henderson, her husband, were in Barlow, too, but they're just a few miles away. It makes one appreciate the idea of family cemeteries when you think about such things, but people still move around and end up other places. If family cemeteries really worked, we'd all be buried in the Myatt one in North Carolina, so there you go.

I'm a person who has never felt "settled." I thought when I purchased a home that I would feel like I had a place where I belonged. But, I feel no more settled now than I did before that. Life for me is always about the possibilities and the now. But the past is what anchors me and gives me a foundation from which to explore. Without the love of my family, here and departed, I could never be comfortable enough to seek out the newness I constantly desire. That love is the rock - the foundation - on which one builds a life that may include constant seeking, and being unsettled. The only place I am certain I "belong" is in the Barlow, Kentucky cemetery when I depart this world. I know that.

Otherwise, where one lives seems pretty inconsequential, as long as those you care about are accessible. By and large people work and play and live, and they do it the same way regardless of where they live.

Sometimes I'll be driving around here and I have this overwhelming urge to live in Ballard County again. I have this fantasy of having a house here and making a home here. And then I remember that I have a whole life going elsewhere. There are people I depend on, who depend on me - there are responsibilities and joys and traumas - just as there are for everyone. And I remember that I've thought about this before.

I left home when I was 17 to go to college and other than about four weeks the following summer, I never lived at home again, although I visited regularly. I have lived in Kansas longer than I lived in Kentucky but I never think of Kansas as home. It's too alien to me. Still. The people, the culture, the places, the landscape - it's all alien to me.

I have learned to appreciate the prairie. There is a beauty in a prairie that's blooming, just as there is beauty in a road covered with trees. And there is a sound that only the prairie makes, just as there is a sound only the confluence of the rivers makes. You have to listen with a discerning ear to hear either of them.

All those little bits of life are what I appreciate. In some ways I'm such a simple person and in some ways so complex. I get tremendous joy from talking with Jim and Mattie or joking with Mary Ann and Jackie.At the same time, I'd like to pack up and move abroad - maybe to Egypt or Paris or other parts as yet unknown. How can these things coexist in one person? I don't understand it and I am that person.

I was mulling all this over tonight as I drove home, treated to a reddening sky. There is something magical about a sunset where there are no silhouettes of buildings on the horizon.