You should feel really good about yourself right now. Because I trust you so much, dear blog readers, I’m willing to share a very secret family recipe called, “Miller Muffins.”
It’s simple, really. Buy a box of Beer Bread Mix from Trader Joe’s. When it calls for a “carbonated beverage,” choose Miller High Life. It’s a classy beer with a light taste–just ask my husband. Then, butter up the muffin tins real good. Mix, bake and serve warm!
Your guests can thank me.
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“Keep your shoulders pointed forward, downhill” Jonathan kept saying. We were skiing last Sunday, and his patience was starting to wear thin. The ungroomed runs were scaring me so I was taking big wide turns, side to side, rather than short quick turns downhill. I had two choices: keep thinking about end-of-day hot choccolate (and continue to move like molasses) or push outside my comfort zone. Fortunately, Jonathan’s advice was right on–keeping my shoulders facing downhill felt natural, and as a result I started moving faster.
The next day, my body hurt in places I didn’t know existed. I went to a Vinyasa yoga class at a local studio to stretch out my aching muscles. I have a love/hate relationship with this studio; love, because it can be an extremely challenging workout, but hate because it’s always too crowded. The evening class was so packed I was only inches away from the person next to me, barely able to breathe in the steamy air. The instructor began talking about how we were a community coming together, uniting our voices as we chant “OOOOMMMMMMMM.” And while the “OOOMMMMMM” thing will always be strange to me, there was no denying a feeling of unison as 50 people–all young, thin, and urban hip–let their voices vibrate.
But, once the class started, we were on our own. If you’re attended a yoga class before, you’ll understand this better than others who haven’t. The practice is about finding inner strength as you push yourself as much or as little as you want.
“I want you to keep your hips pointed forward, towards the front of the room,” the instructor said. Her advice, like Jonathan’s, was rooted in experience. But then, she continued, “Go at your own pace. There’s no right or wrong way to do yoga. This is your practice. This is your night.” I smirked a little bit. If there wasn’t a wrong way to do yoga, I would have kept the $18 bucks I’d just paid for her class. I wanted her to teach me the right way, to challenge me like Jonathan had. I didn’t want her to feed me the crap the rest of our culture does–the crap that says, “This life is all about you…your feelings, your comfort, your needs.”
When the lights dimmed at the end of class, our little community laid in our backs in silence. In my head, I sang the Doxology, a hymn often sung a cappella by congregations: “Praise God to whom all blessings flow. Praise Him, all creatures here below. Praise Him above, ye heavenly host. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. AAAAAAAAAHHHHMMMMMMMM eeeennnnnnn.”
photo credit here.
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Guess who got which fortune tonight at Simon’s?
“You have a strong instinct to take care of people you love.”
“Your flamboyant personality will soon bring you to a new hobby.”
Question: Do you save fortunes from your cookies? Do you have a favorite one?
{Here’s one from my friend Kelly.}
photo credit: disneymike
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…Arugula makes pasta taste delicious. Yoga is good for my back, but hasn’t had the same benefits for my soul. Just because you read someone’s blog, doesn’t mean you know what’s going on in their life. Loyalty isn’t always rewarded. The hard conversations are worth it. Confidence comes from experience, and mistakes. My wardrobe will never be as cute as I want it to be, and I need to get over it (just as soon as I get myself a pair of those Hunter boots!) Cilantro is highly perishable. Eating local and seasonal takes a lot of planning. I don’t know the Bible as well as I should. When it’s raining, $6 to park rather than wait for a bus is totally worth it. Today’s high school student has a lot more pressures than I did just 10 years ago. God called Abraham to start walking before giving him the destination. Seeing good friends go really hurts…
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The rain didn’t stop falling all morning. From the warmth of my bed I listened to it patter, smiling at it’s confident tune that reminded me I had nowhere to be, no one to impress, no deadlines to meet. Nine o’clock turned quickly to eleven o’clock, as I settled deeper into my flannel sheets, pouring through Real Simple magazine. Jonathan put his head right where my elbow met my side. He didn’t move much, besides occasionally stirring as if to remind me he was still there. I softly ran my fingers through his hair.
These are the moments I long for on cold early mornings when a day’s worth of responsibilities loom. These are the waffles for breakfast and hot chocolate in the afternoon days that don’t come often enough. So, when they do, I find myself whispering, “don’t go…don’t go.”
photo credit: ancawonka
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