a tale of colors~

My son Daniel's blog as he travels through Australia with backpack~

http://ataleofcolors.blogspot.com.au/2012/09/papanui-merriwa.html

Living vicariously and realizing my time may look somewhat similiar :) Just with a bit more paint thrown in!
in love. trish

psalm 2011

sind or swim
fight or flight.
take it and make it.
What does a mother do when her heart bursts from her chest for her children? For their pain. For their missteps. For their blindness. For their beauty. For their tenderness.
Dear God, if our trials are equally matched with strength and fortitude to survive them, how much do I have? How much must be called to use?
Does love always nearly match pain when one truly invests and gives themselves wholly to the blessing of it?
Dear God, is it mine to learn from, or theirs? Do I let go, or is there work for me in this? Where do you need me to go? To do? To be? To pray?
Dear God, you hold them. Turn them to see you, to hold you, to find you in return.
You are faithful to you word. You work good in all. I wait in wonder for the blessings I know you have in all this. In you alone I trust for what is to come.
in love. trish

lettering

Brian's football banquet was last Tuesday night. I got report of it the next morning via a text. Hurray and congratulations are in order as he lettered-and even more wonderful, was awarded 'most improved player' by his peers. What a blessing~
I will extol the greatness of this achievement to him when I call this weekend. He will poo poo it and make it seem it is no big deal. But it is~he moved to Michigan with the primary intent of growing his football career so that it might take him to MSU-maybe even on a scholarship ride. So, he is doing amazing things. And he deserves the kudos coming his way! So, kudos my baby! Enjoy the spot light and keep up the great work :)
And to me? All you mothers out there, can you feel what this did to me? Bittersweet, aching heart, fighting back tears of pride and longing. Yea, something like that......!
I never made it out to a game; life just happens sometimes. I don't have any anxiety or disappointment in this~I got to see some great photos-thanks to Daniel!-and heard the results of the game each weekend. I trust that he is thriving in his life there due to these achievements and recognitions-that and the grades I get updates on via teachers' emails! :) Yet, sometimes that's a lot of trust for a mom to put out there and rely on solely. I get caught in the pain of it and feel myself gripping and clenching the ache for him when events like the banquet occur. It can hold me for hours; sometimes for days. This one kept me clenched for a day. Okay, a day and a half. :) I think I've let it go completely now, but boy it socked me at the onset!
Bottom line though, I let it go. Did I just resign myself to it and say 'oh well that's how it goes' and move on? Did I lie in bed and feel sorry for myself over what I have lost in this? Did I weep in anguish from the heart pain of wanting to hold him?! (okay, I did a bit of that :)
No. I relaxed. I turned to listen~To my heart. To my soul. To my insticts. No more listening to my mind. It is the evil stepsister of joy and happiness! I went quiet and listened; gave thanks for what I have, sent praise up for all that the boys are achieving, looked for the lesson and the grace of accepting things just as they are. Life moves much more easily when I get quiet and listen this way, I've found. I can not control what comes and goes; what happens and doesn't happen-not in my life and most assuredly not in my children's lives. I guess you can see that while I definitely have feelings of loss, pain and still sometimes want to grippingly control things, in the end (and thankfully each 'end' comes more and more rapidly now a days!) I can let these feelings go and rest in the peace of knowing someone better, much, much better, is taking care of my children. Is taking care of me. Is setting the stage and building the foundation for things beyond today and today's pain. I can let it go and trust, love and jump into life~and have faith that my children are jumping in as well. in love. trish.

parents, paella and patience

My parents came over earlier this summer and my 'too fab' dad cut my entryway tile so that I could finally lay and grout it. Heaven. I love getting projects done!
They moved to Mukilteo from northern California less than a year ago and what I thought could quite possibly become my undoing-living so close to the parental units after 25 years away-has become a true blessing. Never mind that my dad is 'da bomb' on household project completion! I didn't do much to help out-cutting tile is very much a one man job, but in thanksgiving, I made this for lunch. I don't think it was a even trade, but it sure was good! in love. and thank you dad :) trish
Paella
2 lbs boneless skinless chicken thighs (i use breasts), cut into bite size pieces
1/4 c olive oil
1 T paprika
2 t dried oregano
1 lb cooked chorizo (i use turkey italian sausage)
1 large onion, diced
1 lg red pepper, diced
4 lg garlic cloves, minced
2 c short grain brown rice
1 lg pinch saffron threads
1 t red pepper flakes
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes
1 qt chicken broth
1 lb peeled deveined shrimp
1 lb bay scallops
1 c frozen peas
1/2 c chopped fresh parsley
Drizzle chicken with 2 T olive oil, sprinkle with paprika, oregano, sanl and pepper; tosst ocaot. Heat a large roasting pan or skillet on medium-high heat and add chicken and cook through. Add sausage, onions, peppers and garlic; cook until veggies are tender and sausage is no longer pink. Stir in rice, saffron, pepper flakes, tomatoes and broth. Bring to a simmer then cover. Stir and check the rice for doneness-about 20 minutes. Remove lid and continue to cook until broth has absorbed. Add water if the rice requires more liquid to cook thoroughly. Stir in shrimp, scallops, peas and parsley. Seafood should be cooked within 5 minutes. Serve and enjoy! Great as leftovers and this recipe makes enough for a CROWD!

my wish

That the choices I've had to make for myself-that directly effect him-will be seen as building blocks, not brick walls. That the anger he feels will manifest into learning and growing and appreciating; not 'chip on my shoulder', 'glass half empty', 'world's out to get me' living. That my inability to protect him, to nurture him, to carry him is not seen as an inability to deeply love and care about him. That some burned bridges can be rebuilt. That he will see his gift, the one born to him alone, and he will not just walk his path, but fly! That he find love for himself; and trust in himself; and faith in himself. That he believe. in love. trish.

prayers to perseverance

Sometimes the best we can do is whisper a prayer and hold on.
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I need to hear it. The arguing-the jabs of sibling rivalry-the commanding claims of big brother superiority. Oh, I need to hear it.
But for now, this quiet. Peaceful at times, in some manifestations. Currently-deeply resonating and achingly absent.
My blessing's in discord: I need to hear it. Bring on the noisome brawling dear Lord. Give me my peace. ____________________________________________________________________

Hope springs eternal. Where God closes one door...
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My self leveling state of being, of living, has had the plug pulled and spills haphazardly around the ticking of my minutes. Patch work has been performed and holds, provisionally, fast. A new life level is needed. A new 'normal' defined. A new 'trish is....'
The absence that in its infant days was a 24 carat gold wrapped gift full of discovery and wonder has become a burdensome anxiety and need. The tender pain of life changes is compiling much too quickly in this all at once of my summer. Minutely controlled breaths, exhaling, inhaling, from my first waking moment through to my final nightly sigh hold the patch fast.
Definitively clinging to 'To Dos' and walking with my faith forward. Facing the quiet, the compiling, the sometimes hollow anguish, with regulated resolve. Plundering forward until it all makes sense. Stepping where the road leads until the light illuminates. 200 ft Lord God. Keep my walking. in love. trish
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Sometimes miracles occur only when you jump.

guest room

I've never had a guest room before. When visitors would come to stay the boys got condensed into each others rooms to make pillow space for the temporary bodies. I've acquired one this summer. Furniture is being rearranged, carpets deep cleaned, windows washed in this hollowed out space. It's beginning to look like a blank slate rather than a vacuous hole that is missing its true substance. Where are the football jerseys?! Where are the tossed wrappers, dirty clothes and discarded golf cleats?!

It's not a pretty place; I am having trouble establishing a personality for the space. I can't seem to get myself around cleaning away the red, panther pride wall color or the collection of Jolt cans on the shelf. Three walls remain pristine in their boring bland white. The alchemy of teenager and visitor worthy space is still in process.

But there is definitely some pleasure in this creating. In the cleaning out corners, dusting desk tops and lying on the floor gazing at the ceiling in this uninhabited region of my cozy home I feel warm joy seep into my cells. God has a plan. The world carries a guidance system. I trust the enfolding of a life; touched by the unfolding of others' lives-fleetingly or forever-to take one where the path leads. And, creating a space in an empty 10'x12', envisioning its use in the coming years, blissfully musing my eternally positive thoughts for the future, brings me peace in the changing of life. I think I will come to enjoy my room for a guest~ in love. trish

zen quiet

I am painting now a days. Lots and lots of painting. With wax, with tar, with plaster, with oil, with glue, with fire. Painting. All this painting is being punctuated by regular dusting, organizing, scrubbing, pulling baby beets from my 4'x10' garden plot and mowing my lawn of similar dimensions. Yet mostly painting and painting and painting. Just as I desired my days to enfold this summer: To fall gently into the peace of not being beckoned to fill a belly or find clean socks. After the first day of stabbing anxiety at the emptiness in this change to alone, I have found the zen that has been suggested exists in the acceptance of quiet.

Waking at 4am to plug in the palette, organize the papers, listen to the bird chirp and sip the coffee. Eating lunch over an arrangement of carving tools and watching the sun set while hitting firing up the propane torch. Doing, seeing, acting, feeling, being-just as I want. Just as I need. Just as I feel. Selfish. Entirely, self indulgently selfish. Yet, accepting this and simply moving with it is giving me so much learning, so much feeling, so much accepting and so much love. Recognizing the value in alone; and the deep necessary value of every rich, difficult, blessed, challenging bit of life. in love. trish

change is a comin'

S is for Sad......and for the mysterious appetite that often surges in us when our hearts seem to be breaking and our lives appear too bleakly empty. Like every other physical phenomenon, there is good reason for this hunger, if we will be blunt enough to recognize it."
--M. F. K. Fisher, An Alphabet for Gourmets

The most beautiful sound caused me to catch my breath as I scraped warm wax from a board this evening. A magical, simple pleasure that made my mind and heart travel back fifteen years to a time when that sound belonged to a much smaller incantation of the one I'd just heard. Back to the easy days of holding small hands crossing the street, catching 40 pound bodies as they plummet down the park slide and cutting crusts from peanut butter sandwiches. To a time when the tugs at the heart were associated with fleeting desires to have them stay this way forever-to never grow up and to continue to delight in the innocent pleasure of the sway of a lazy sprinkler on a hot summer day. The sound was so familiar to me that on many another day, with different tasks filling my minutes and engaging my brain, it has gone unnoticed-simply continuing its bounce off the wall and up the stairs to dissolve in the beeswax fumed air of my studio. But this evening it captured me. Grabbed my heart and filled my thoughts with smiles. A laugh: The free flowing, still innocent laugh of a child. Deeply resonating in its post-pubescent growth and full of presumed-self knowing that would daily be challenged by this worlds rough edges; the laugh was still mine- still his. Still held the timber of the three foot tall, chipmunk-cheeked youth slipping through spring-mud filled grass. It captured me now for the bittersweet warmth of its existence-soon to be gone. Soon to exist in the vacuous silence of my reminiscing alone. Exist only in the memory of its once innocent flutter from the sofa, up the stairs and to my concentrating ears and mommy heart. feed the hunger. in love. trish

Brian's favorite rhubarb berry crisp
'crisp':

1 c flour

1c brown sugar

1 c quick oats

1 t cinnamon

2 sticks butter, melted and cooled

Mix the crisp ingredients until crumbly. Press 1/2 the mixture into a greased baking dish. Spread 4-5 c chopped rhubarb and assorted seasonal berries over this base. In a saucepan blend

1 c sugar

3 T flour

1 t vanilla

1 1/2 c water

Cook this mixture until it thickens (about 5 minutes) then pour over the fruit. Spread the remaining 1/2 of the crisp over this layer and bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour. Allow to cool and dig in. It only gets better with time~and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream!

I make this for Brian, exclusively. He can eat a 10x14 dish of it in three days easy; that's if he's pacing himself.

my daniel

I have been learning a lot about myself over the past few years. Discovering where my heart's passion truly lies, unearthing my personal voice, redefining love and what it means for me in my life. It has been an amazing journey, and one I recognize I am on for the duration! These lessons learned open to new experiences that create new lessons and thus new learning to be done~

This is my Daniel. He is 17 1/2 and grabbed me-heart and soul at birth. He has a tender gentle countenance and the person he is, the soul he possesses, speaks to me poignantly. Each of my children holds an exalted, unique place in my heart and I can not do this living without each and every one of them: There's just something about Daniel.

He is the second baby. Where Conner reeled back, screaming at the stars for the first few months of his life, Daniel gently cuddled, latched on and peacefully connected. He was an 'oops' baby; growing the family wasn't the plan just yet. Daniel can be 'blamed' as the catalyst to my big family~he made me want more.

The day after his 16th birthday he moved to Michigan to live with his father. We'd lived there for five years until moving to Washington in 2004. My boys developed a connection to the midwest that I did not. Where they want to call Okemos, Michigan their home, I connect to it angst, struggle, heartache and falling away. I can get a sense of their emotional connection to the area, but I still have a bubble of disappointed quandary in the trying to understand it. Their experiences there are so very different than mine; we simple can not emotionally identify on the same level. It pains me that I could not give them my love of the west coast, but I have to let that go and know that they are finding their own way.

I struggle with Daniel's absence from my daily rounds. It is so very odd to have a child not living under your roof. Even if, as living under this roof, we simply said good morning, have a great day, and ate dinner together before rushing off to our own activities, he was still here in my sites. I see him three times a year now. I play a game with myself when the pain of this is too strong. I imagine him a brilliant savant who was whisked off to Yale at an early age. Silly mom.

Deep down I recognize the rightness of his choice and the good it is for his life. I just struggle with the changing form of this love, the loss of connection, and the building of a new relationship description. How do parents let go and let live? Or, how do you get to where the letting go is not married to pain and angst? I have never been a gripping, controlling mother, I believe I've created very independent, self sufficient children for the world, but I still cry as he gets on the plane alone. I still baulk at photos taken of myself with three boys, not four. Perhaps there just is no letting go. The belly button is a testament to this: The cord has been cut physically, but emotionally it is wrought in steel to never be cleaved. in love. trish

I make these and think of Daniel every time Krispie Treats
6 cups rice krispies
1 c corn syrup
1c sugar
1 c creamy peanut butter
1 c chocolate chips
1c butterscotch chips
In a small saucepan heat the corn syrup and sugar until bubbling. Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter. Pour this mixture over the krispies in a large bowl. Stir to combine. Press into a greased 9x13 casserole dish. Melt both chips together in the microwave; 30 second bursts with stirring in between. Spread over krispies. Cool and cut! super sweet yumminess.

what is one thing you think of that always makes you smile?

My 13 year old asked me this last week. Remember, I have all boys. That makes it my 13 year old SON asked me this last week. Is anyone else raising their eyebrows in amazement?! And, from a mother's point of view, how freakin' precious is this!!?

I have been told he has an old soul. He can ask things, and give his interpretation of situations, with more maturity and human understanding than the best of the 'grownups'. He has left me slack jawed in awe on many an occasion. Don't get me wrong; he'll leave the frig open and track mud through the house with the best of them!

Patrick is my fourth and youngest child; therefore the one to get my name, so to speak, since a girl was not in the mix. I never pined for one mind you-I haven't spent a day wishing for a girl since laying on the ultrasound table for the third time and hearing, yep there it is!~I adore the name Patrick and it was fun to name someone after me~

I answered his query with the first thing that came to mind; my boys. But it stuck in my head that that just isn't quite it. I mean, really, do your children make you smile all the time?! I think not! Children bring more blistering frustrations and sometimes even love testing dilemmas than any other relationship can even come close to. So I had to rethink his line of questioning...

A few days later a more appropriate response struck me, and an ironic one at that. What always makes me smile when I think of it is the time he and I spent eight days in Children's Hospital. Wow. See the irony?! And three of those days were in intensive care. While the time there was painful, scary, frustrating and all around gut wrenching, the memories I carry from it are of a connection. He and I spent eight days joined in the single biggest event of his life; eating, sleeping and even breathing just inches from each other every moment. But when there were minutes not filled with needles, tubes and tests, I would push him on his IV pole through the halls-take pictures standing next to all of the animal sculptures-and when he started building his strength, try to do wheelies through the vacant halls in his wheelchair. All this went down four years ago in May. He and I spent Mother's day looking out the window of his room and testing the wheel chair on a newly discovered hallway with an incline :)

That time at Children's matched that of giving birth to my third son and soon after being frantically wheeled to surgery for blood transfusions and strange lasers. Scary. Nay, terrifying. But when you come out on the other side of things like that, able to smile, reflect and be oh so grateful for the minutes that have come after, even the terrifying can make you smile. in love. trish

where I am at

This week is filled with many commitments, deadlines, 'To Do's' and 'must take care ofs'. I am tackling them all, one by one, a little bit here, a little bit there. I have pleasingly found my way around multitasking; even when my list for the week takes up two pages, I can walk into it calmly and with assurance that the final bullet point will receive a definitive line through it by the end of day on Friday. I think this calm comes with age-read 'maturity', and a gentler sense of what is necessary and pressing in a day. It comes with age, and perhaps being a woman-or more precisely, a mother! Hang ups over undone laundry, dusty coffee tables and muddy footprints on the entry rug just don't matter the way they did when I was a new cohabitant in a household sharing relationship. So what have I been up to? Where am I at in this week of doing and taking care of? Yes, baking cookies sits squarely on the 'to do' list. Maybe not a priority in your household, Keebler does a fine fudge stick after all, but here, with the teenage boys who can eat a package of Girl Scout cookies single handedly before their brothers come home to find evidence of their existence, I bake cookies. Cost effective, makes the house smell outrageous, and dang, they taste so good! Nothing like a homemade chocolate chip cookie. And a bonus; if you haven't gathered this fact yet, more than half the 'yum' for me happens in the making of what is needed or desired-Gotta bake! Gotta paint! Gotta garden! And even, gotta clean those windows! Sick, I know. Back to those cookies....

The cookie jar sat gaping open, it's interior filled with the hollow space of emptiness as I came through the door from a weekend away in Portland. It sat as simple proof that should I turn to open the frig, I would see a full pan of lasagna left sadly untouched on the center shelf. Cookies are so much more convenient, tasty, and do not require a plate or reheating in the microwave. Unless of coarse you desire that gooey, melty chocolate chip bite of cookie goodness....I digress. I knew cookie baking was on the top of my list for the first of the week. Pulling out the favorite recipe first thing Monday morning, I created the delectable morsels featured above. If your taste buds scream for a thin, chewy, gooey chocolate chip cookie, read on and set your oven to 300 degrees. These, quite simply, rock.

Gooey Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies

1/2 c margarine

1/2 c brown sugar

1/3 c granulated sugar

1 t vanilla

1 c flour

3/4 t baking soda

1/2 t salt

1 c chocolate chip cookies

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. If you have them, I recommend using silicone baking sheets; everything just bakes better on them! Otherwise, lightly spray two baking sheets in preparation for the dough. Melt the margarine and allow it to cool slightly. Add the sugars and vanilla and blend well. Add the flour, soda and salt, blend again. Dump the chips into the batter, incorporate and grab two cereal spoons. Place level spoonfuls onto baking sheets-I make a dozen/sheet. This recipe makes a mere 18-24 cookies depending on how large your spoonfuls are, so you may want to double the recipe! They are so easy to make that I stick with a single batch so they are just so yummy fresh with great regularity! Bake at 300 degrees for 14 minutes (yes, 14. really) and remove to a cooling rack. If you are using silicone sheets, slip the sheet onto the rack and allow to cool off the the cookie sheet to ensure no more baking happens. Enjoy! (note: the recipe does not have eggs. What does this mean you ask?! The batter can be eaten before baking without fear of any strange illnesses taking over your digestive system....mmmmm)

This is the way the recipe is made when the boys are consuming. I have made them for a dinner party-cookies never go out of style, and used 1/2 white whole wheat flour and 1/2 AP flour, a hunk of Valharone dark chocolate chopped into tasty hunks instead of the chips, and threw in a handful of dried cherries. OMG, try it....

Cookie baking ceremoniously crossed off the list....

Next, while not on the weekly list, always on the life list; painting.

I have been jazzed in the studio. No other way of putting it. Geeked. Jazzed. Thrilled. Impassioned. Maybe crazy even! Define it how you will, I can't get enough right now, thank the gods. Beginning in frustration, trying to move from my proverbial bright, multicolored blending of wax, my Karon suggested I hold myself to two colors. Gasp! Just two?! So it was with trepidation that I removed all colors from my palette, picked through my blocks of encaustic, set up four sets of 'only two!' and began. The first week, diazinone purple and celadon green. The second week, kings blue and raw umber. This week, I've allowed leeway; okay, I'm cheating! artistic license-I'm working in colored papers and burnt umber. And, I am stuck there. Well, not stuck, but loving what is happening! Freaking over the results that just two colors can produce. Next in the lineup? sap green and quinacridone magenta then dianthus pink and neutral while-it wont happen this week-I have more to do with the raw and king!-but it will come, and I'll show you their results as well!

Okay,cookies and art-moving through the list quite swiftly! Need it be added that the laundry, dusting and cleaning of the fingerprinted appliances has happened in the in between of all the rest?! Three more lines crossed out....

I moved into this house one year ago today. I sold my big house on the hill, tossed stuff, packed, found this house, went through the paperwork hoops and moved in in three weeks. A crazy, frantic, tear spilling three weeks. One year ago now. I am amazed at the time that has passed and the place I've come to. So good, so rich and so grounding. The universe works in mysterious ways...

But where is this little ditty on my 'to do' list you ask?! Part of the list is left in my head. The part that reads-'count your blessings', 'thank you lucky stars' and 'don't forget what your knees are for chicka'! This little musing is on that list. Settling in was a very important issue for me one year ago. I wanted a foundation of calm for myself as much as for the boys. With boxes shoulder high through the entire house, we were cutting sideways glides down the hallways to reach bathroom, bedroom and frig. Blessed with a few days of time to focus on the task at hand without distractions of job, other 'to dos' or even the boys underfoot (they returned to the final month of school after the frantic day and a half moving process), I began unpacking the packed. Not until I reached the box containing my cars did I smile and breath a calming sigh. It wasn't the cars in and of themselves, as much as the sense of place they allowed. For some reason the pulling of them from the box and establishing their spot in the new kitchen (they'd sat on the island just above the stove top in the other home) settled the frantic and solidified the sense of place that has stayed with me since that day. A tiny, $.99 collection of blessings. There for me daily as a reminder of the simple, good, peaceful tidbits in life.

And while all this doing is happening? Never forgetting the eating. Eating, sleeping, painting, writing...life! My lunch yesterday; everything come from my CSA(community supported agriculture) box! Can't beat that! Have you ever tried avocado with mango? Or, mango with tomato? Wow. Again, a simple delight. The sun helped; I ate on the deck...

A messy, huge salad, but oh so satisfying-no, I didn't share with the rooster! He's awfully cute though isn't he?!

Today? More painting. I have some rare ironing to tackle, and I promised Patrick I'd finish our game of Risk. He's wiping me off the map....in love. trish.