This Woman Writes by Carolyn Henderson

Recipe: Fast, Cheap, Simple, Fresh HOT Salsa

Posted on April 17, 2013 by This Woman Writes

I thought Norwegians ate dried fish soaked in beer, but my Norwegian Artist has a taste for hot stuff — Thai stir fry with flames emitting from the platter, salsa that kicks your taste buds across the room and pins them against the wall.

You can make this salsa as hot as you can stand it. Photo credit Steve Henderson Fine Art

If you’ve purchased salsa for a person like this, you know that the big plastic jug of picante sauce just doesn’t cut it, but in order to get the heat the man craves, I’m forced to put down good money that could be better spent on a skein of fine sock yarn from inner Mongolia.

Yeah, I could can my own, but I hate canning — something about 110 degree temperatures and standing over a steaming pot — but fortunately, I discovered that custom making your own salsa isn’t that difficult; it takes very little time; it’s cheap; and you can put something together in less than five minutes. Any extra time is letting the salsa steep, like tea.

The “secret” — I really hate using that word; it reminds me of those, Any Idiot’s Secret to Making a Million Dollars in Six Months books — is a can of diced tomatoes. If it’s not July and you don’t have exotic heirlooms flourishing in your garden, the commercial canned product really isn’t bad. Canned tomatoes are so cheap, that you won’t spend much more getting the organic version, and since there aren’t many ingredients in the salsa, you benefit by this maxim:

The fewer ingredients in a dish, the better they should be.

Oops, I used the word “should,” which I generally don’t, but every so often it comes in handy.

Here’s my recipe — if you don’t have everything in the pantry, you won’t have trouble finding the necessary ingredients in the grocery store; adjust the optional amounts depending on your preference for heat and cilantro:

Recipe: Fast, Cheap, Simple, Fresh, HOT Salsa

Ingredients:

1 can diced tomatoes (14.5 oz or so)

1/2 onion, chopped finely

1-4 jalapeno chiles, chopped finely. The heat is in the seeds and membrane, so if you don’t use these, you’ll have a milder salsa (you might want to wear gloves while you work with these; if you don’t, do not touch your eyes or face until you have washed off the chiles’ oil from your hands).

1/4 – 1/2 cup cilantro, chopped (you know, you’ve got to acquire a taste for this particular herb, but it’s really worth trying. The first three times I ate food with cilantro in it, I hated it; the next three times, I tolerated it; the seventh time, I inhaled it. Salsa without cilantro just isn’t the same thing.)

2 Tablespoons garlic, chopped

2 Tablespoons sugar

2 Tablespoons Lime or Lemon Juice (lime tastes better)

Mix it all together in a bowl, cover, and set the bowl in the refrigerator to allow the flavors to meld.

That’s it. Hot, fiery, fresh salsa for little more than a can of tomatoes, and definitely less than what you pay for a little jar of something that promises to be, but may or may not be. If you want to go even hotter, buy a hotter chile.

Experiment — the local Mexican restaurant has ribboned cabbage in their salsa, but the primary ingredients you don’t want to do without are the tomatoes, onion, hot peppers, and . . . cilantro.

Posted in blogging, cooking, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Family, Food, home, Life, Lifestyle, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged cheap, easy, fast, recipe, Salsa | Leave a comment

Fried Dandelions

Posted on April 15, 2013 by This Woman Writes

From Start Your Week with Steve, the weekly e-mail newsletter of Steve Henderson Fine Art

“Today my 18-year-old son wanted to make fried dandelions for lunch, a suggestion that initially didn’t meet with much excitement.

Original oil painting by Steve Henderson

“But he’s a determined sort, and like the Little Red Hen he picked the flowers, dipped them in egg and breading, and fried them in butter. Oddly, they weren’t bad, although the egg, breading, and butter definitely helped.

“And, he told us, now that he’s done it, he has no desire to repeat the experiment, but he’s glad that he went through with it. ‘I would always have wondered,’ he commented.

“Good point.

“How many times do we want to try something but don’t, because it sounds odd — like fried dandelions — or our announcement is met with a total lack of enthusiasm and support?

“So we don’t. But we always wonder what it would have been like if we had.

“Why not stop wondering and just do it? At worst, we’ll have inedible flowers, but the compost pile won’t mind.

“At best, we’ll have a unique dish to share at the next family celebration.

“And in between, we’ve got a good story to share.

“The more we do, the more we try, the more we experiment, the more we dream — the more interesting we, and the lives we live, are.”

Read the rest of Start Your Week with Steve

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, Business, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Encouragement, Family, Food, gardening, Green, Growth, home, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged art, dandelions, experiment, food, newsletter | Leave a comment

Kombucha Adventures

Posted on April 12, 2013 by This Woman Writes

I’ve been making Kombucha.

I know, it sounds like a song that you sing around the campfire, but it’s a fermented black tea that sits around on the counter top, quietly revolutionizing itself into something totally unlike anything we consume at potlucks. Floating around on top is a SCOBY — which stands for Symbiotic Colony of Bacteria and Yeast.

I call him Joseph. He looks like a Biblical shepherd. Photo credit Steve Henderson Fine Art

Mmm. Doesn’t that sound yummy?

Fermented foods like Kombucha (Comm-BOO-Chah) are gaining popularity these days as a means of introducing beneficial microbial activity into our body systems, something notably lacking in our culture of processed, nutrient-deficient, homogenized foods, and once I heard that the stuff is based upon black tea, I was hooked.

It vacillates between sweet and vinegary, with a bubbly tang that is oddly different, compellingly demanding, but not repulsive, sort of like me. If you want to experiment with your own batch, Food Renegade has great information, but I’ll warn you, the site doesn’t talk about the most important thing:

A stunningly attractive jar in which to create your masterpiece.

Oh, sure, you could use a gallon glass jar, the kind you beg off of restaurants, and do the whole thing for free. But I wanted something with a spout, and to get this feature, you’re going to find yourself in Exotic Imports or The Universe Beyond the Master Bathroom.

At least that’s where I dragged the Norwegian Artist when I went looking, and him being a male and my being cheap meant that we beelined it to the jars, totally ignoring artfully draped fabric resting on cushions, or thin stemmed wine glasses standing at attention next to sultry turquoise-hued platters.

This particular painting would look stunning next to the wine glasses and serving platters. Gathering Thoughts by Steve Henderson.

You’d be amazed at the variations of empty gallon pickle jars out there — and they’re definitely not free. They are shaped like upside down mushrooms, textured with bumps and pebbles, or colored like rubies and sapphires (and similarly priced). If you want to (we didn’t), you can spend as much on a glass jar with a spigot as you do on a dinner for 8 at a remote resort in Tahiti.

But there was one thing that all of the jars had in common, regardless of whether they were the Motel 6 budget model or the Tahiti resort — all of the spigots were the same — cheap. And when you consider how important a spigot is to a jar with a spout, it’s irritating that manufacturers do not offer us the one particular feature that would be most helpful — quality.

But that’s life in our global, mass-manufactured economy — buy a lot, buy it often, don’t expect it to last. But do, do keep buying.

So what did we do, dear reader? We bought a jar, the lowest price model, which had the notable benefit of looking like the highest price model, spout and all. (Interestingly, it also cost less than models we viewed at BoxStore and CheapMart.) It works just fine, and as I set my little cup under the spout and draw off a drought, I continue my fight against greed, dishonesty, dis-ingenuousness, and financial immorality:

You don’t have to live in the country to have the independent spirit of a rural person. Homeland 1 by Steve Henderson

We bought what we needed, and use it to our advantage. We continue to learn to make things for ourselves, and our foray into Kombucha isn’t just a beverage experiment, it is a drive to eat better, think independently, and take responsibility for our own health and family welfare.

Because, in all things, “they” don’t care. Your life, your kids, your family, your health, your education, your Kombucha — you are the one to whom this matters the most. Take charge of it.

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, cooking, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Education, Encouragement, Family, Food, Green, Growth, health, home, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, Personal, success, Uncategorized | Tagged health, jar, Kombucha, tea | 2 Comments

Is There in Truth No Beauty?

Posted on April 10, 2013 by This Woman Writes

Those of you who are afficianados of the 1960’s era Star Trek series (and if you’re not, you should be — it’s cheesey and profound at the same time) may recognize the title of this article from an episode, but it’s such a striking sentence that it’s worth re-using.

We are a practical people.

This is my teapot — my indulgence — an item of beauty crafted by an artisan. Photo credit Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Well, not all of us, but a significant chunk is trying to make do on the money we earn, and in today’s society, many of us work harder for less.

So, we find ways to save.

And saving money is a good thing — buying less, making more, re-using, recycling, finding treasure in another man’s trash, saying no to impulse buying, gardening — it’s all good.

But in the process of all this efficient, practical living, sometimes we lose something just as important, but easy to overlook because it’s not obvious — beauty, and beautiful things.

Every morning, I make tea in a hand painted, Polish tea pot, signed by the artist and a bit more expensive than an old coffee carafe I could pick up at any second hand store. Both are suitable for making tea. There is absolutely no reason I needed the artisan’s version, but I wanted it.

I’m Polish, you see.

There’s the teapot again, this time in an original painting available for sale at Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Okay, so that’s not a good excuse, but I really don’t need an excuse — and neither do you — to save up for something beautiful that, every time I use it, adds an element of joy to the day’s duties. And not only that, but a real person, an artist — not a shareholder in boxstore stocks — received the money for their unique skills and abilities.

(As the wife of an artist, I can assure you that artists don’t like to starve any more than the rest of us, and in order to continue producing beautiful things, they need people to buy them.)

We live in a beautiful world, but in the process of surviving the ugliness thrown at us by greed, deception, dishonesty, avarice, selfishness, powerlust, and pride, we slip so snugly into survival mode that we forget to look around us and rejoice in what we see and hear and smell and taste — new leaves emerging, bees hovering around blossoms, the mew of a newly born kitten, the gentle kiss of morning’s breeze brushing across our cheeks.

This is beauty — and this particular beauty if free. It just asks that we notice it.

But the other beauty, the kind that we buy, is worth seeking out and finding as well. As I write this, I am wearing a handknit (by my hands) alpaca sweater created from yarn spun by an artisan and purchased for a price considerably more than what the boxstores charge, only they don’t sell items of this quality. When I amortize the cost of the materials out over how many times I’ve worn this sweater, it comes to about a dollar a time. I wear this sweater a lot.

Just because you’re ordinary and maybe a little poor (although most of us aren’t so poor that we worry about the number of meals we’ll eat today) doesn’t mean that you can’t have luxurious things. Just save up for them.

Forego the trashy impulse buys (they yell at you as soon as you walk into any store) and set your sights on the thing of beauty that you covet — exotic yarn, a teapot like mine, a brass version of Goats and Tigers, a painting, a truly superb chocolate — you know what it is. Stop feeling guilty about wanting it and see about how you can save up for it. And then, after you purchase it, use it with the joy and respect that it deserves — because it is a thing of beauty, created by an artist who knows how to interpret beauty into a material item.

The garden is a beautiful place. Promenade, available as a print or original through Steve Henderson Fine Art.

We are creatures of both flesh and spirit, but often, in the effort to subvert the flesh, we focus on sheer practicality, assuring ourselves that this is the route to higher consciousness. It isn’t. It is the route to a barren, bleak existence — both in our flesh and in our spirit.

There is, in truth, much beauty. Seek out the one, and you will find the other.

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, children, Christian, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Economy, Encouragement, Family, finances, frugal living, Growth, home, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, Personal, shopping | Tagged artisan, beauty, impulse buy, saving money, Star Trek, tea pot | 2 Comments

Color Coordination That Doesn’t . . . Coordinate

Posted on April 8, 2013 by This Woman Writes

From Start Your Week with Steve, the free weekly e-mail newsletter of Steve Henderson Fine Art

“It’s always good when the person you live with thinks similarly to — or at least not radically different from — the way you do.

“In our house, we decorate eclectically — espresso brown leather sofa; rust fabric glider chair; oak cabinets; sage green walls; knitted shawls and lace by Carolyn; a revolving array of paintings by me.

“In the process of doing so, we have discovered just how flexible color coordination can be — red, rust, lavender, blue, green, gold, orange — all hues wander in and out of our living room, and regardless of which paintings are on the walls, they all fit.

“When you purchase fine art, buy what you like, and don’t worry about how it will look with the sofa — if your home is filled with the furniture and accessories that you love, then it’s highly likely that the newest painting will fit right in.

“It’s your home, reflecting your life, your lifestyle, your family, your being. Surround yourself with beautiful things that you love, and make yourself at home in your home.”

Read more, and subscribe for free, at Start Your Week with Steve

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Economy, Encouragement, Family, frugal living, Growth, home, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, News, Personal, Style, success, Uncategorized | Tagged artwork, color, coordination, decorating, furniture, home | Leave a comment

Group Think — It Doesn’t Necessarily Involve Thinking at All

Posted on April 4, 2013 by This Woman Writes

I’m a knitter.

This is a fairly solitary occupation, in that you don’t need to be part of a team to do it, and it’s fairly doable to get good at this without classes, seminars, workbooks, DVDs, and weekly meetings.

We’re such social creatures. The first thing we think about, when we start a new interest, is finding a group of others to do it with. Photo credit Steve Henderson

And I am fairly good at it; I make what I create, and have developed a respectable wardrobe of sweaters, socks, lace shawls, hats, and scarves, all because I knit on a regular basis and I continuously challenge myself to learn new things.

Despite this sensible attitude, I underwent a moment of insanity when I considered joining a knitter’s association and subjecting myself to a series of steps and lessons and requirements, all with the goal of earning a piece of paper announcing to the word that, according to this group, I am a qualified knitter.

What kind of job I can get with this piece of paper, I don’t know. Theoretically, I am supposed to come out of the experience more skilled than I am now, but I think the process would drive me nuts, since involves knitting 3 x 3 inch squares — absolutely PERFECTLY — in various patterns, and sending them to distant reviewers who pass or fail me based upon that perfection. I cannot wear 3 x 3 inch squares.

Some people — perfectionists come to mind — thrive on this type of thing, but I don’t. Which made me — and especially the Norwegian Artist — wonder why I was considering the experience at all.

Knitting is a fairly solitary, contemplative occupation. Riverside Muse, original watercolor by Steve Henderson

Knitting is a fairly solitary, contemplative occupation. Riverside Muse, art print from Steve Henderson Collections.

“You hate groups like this,” he reasoned. “Why are you even contemplating putting yourself through the process?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe because I’m fooling myself into thinking that the group will enable me to advance, even though I’m advancing just fine all on my own.”

I’m not the only one with this misconception. It’s pretty universal that, when we acquire an interest — in knitting, cooking, walking dogs, making compost, brewing Kombucha, anything — we eventually look for a group to join. And a magazine to subscribe to.

“The more skilled members will teach me,” we reason. “That’s why the group exists.”

Actually, most groups exist for the group itself — for the regular meetings, the newsletters, the dues, the advancement process from one level to the next. In years past, we have belonged to art associations, 4-H, religious organizations, educational groups, non-profit establishments — and rarely have we received more than we put in.

Generally, the less organized the group, the more we have benefited from it. A hodge-podge of people, interacting on a basis of equality because they are more interested in each other and their common interest than they are in the organization they have created, is a worthy, workable endeavor. But this isn’t what most groups look like.

While this grumpy, anti-social attitude flies against society’s injunction to “work together as a team,” the one significant, workable example of teamwork that has existed since the beginning is one that society is regularly set out to destroy: the family. It seeks to replace it with substitutes: our “family” at work, our “family” at church, our “family” at school, our “family” anyplace at all other than our home.

Our homes and hearts are big enough to invite others in. Captain's House, sold, by Steve Henderson

Our homes and hearts are big enough to invite others in. Captain’s House, art print from Steve Henderson Collections.

And although yes, it’s true that some people’s families aren’t of the quality that they should be, this is no excuse to eliminate the institution and replace it with substitutes. Better that we invite someone with no family into our own than that we push all of ourselves into artificial groups.

Do you knit? Write me, we’ll swap stories. It’s highly likely you can figure out what’s challenging you on your own, or, if it’s really bad, by finding another knitter who can walk you through it. But a weekly meeting, or monthly dues, or a yearly seminar isn’t going to push you through to learning as much as you yourself will do — because you’re smart, creative, independent and able to do so much more than you think you can.

Posted in Art, blogging, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Education, Encouragement, Family, Growth, home, homeschooling, inspirational, knitting, Life, Lifestyle, Personal, success, Uncategorized | Tagged group, knit, Kombucha, perfectionist, think | 15 Comments

In 32 Seconds Your Life Can Change

Posted on April 3, 2013 by This Woman Writes

Multi-tasking isn’t such a big deal. Women have been doing it since Eve.

American women have finessed it to an art form.

American women with children have attained the pinnacle of its supremacy.

She may look wise, but she doesn’t know her future, or yours. Photo credit Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art

Most of this multi-tasking is mental, in that while you’re washing the dishes and refereeing an argument at the breakfast table, you’re thinking, “I’ll get those bills paid later this morning, after starting a load of laundry. A couple birthdays coming up — I’d better get some ideas going. Oops — smells like someone needs to be changed.”

If you’re working outside the home, the dishes, laundry, bills, birthdays and arguments will be waiting for you in the evening, not to mention the person who needs to be changed, although it is sincerely hoped that this particular afternoon project was cared for.

Rarely are you living precisely in the present, and the more children in the house and the younger they are, the more tasks there are to process. Before you know it, ten years have gone by, many of those children have driver’s licenses, and you’ve developed this distressing habit of living in the future. Now, in addition to the bills, laundry, dishes, birthdays — but not necessarily diaper changing — you think,

“Everyone’s growing up. Soon we’ll be all alone. How will I deal with this?”

Are you there yet? I am.

Popularly, it’s called Empty Nest Syndrome; supposedly, women worldwide welcome this liberation from the noise and chaos of children in the house; in real life, I suspect most people hate it as much as I do.

It’s not that long ago that I held the mother in this painting in my arms. Madonna and Toddler by Steve Henderson.

But one thing it’s teaching me, before it’s too late, is to stop mentally multi-tasking and force myself to be in the present, full time, fully engaged, and without a thought to the future, because none of us know, or can control, what happens within the next 32 seconds, much less five minutes, week, months, or years from now.

By the time you finish this article, your life could have radically changed — and you may not even know it. Good or bad, often in between, life’s circumstances happen continuously. This hit me between the eyes when The Norwegian Artist and I were discussing Small One, our granddaughter, and her upcoming fourth birthday.

“I wonder what she’ll be like when she’s 17?” the Norwegian mused.

How could we possibly know? I thought. And if we can’t foresee 13 years into the future, why do we live our lives as if we could? Year after year of moving from one project to the next, planning out two chores ahead while I’m in the midst of another one, has trained me to never stop and fully be in the present, a significant chunk of which is now in the past. And looking backwards, I don’t remember the laundry, the dishes, the bills, the chores — I remember the people, many of whom are still in my life today, just not the way they were 10 years ago.

Yesterday, I sat on the porch, soaking up the sun, with a kitty on my left, my knitting in my lap, and Tired of Being Youngest to my right. Initially, my thoughts raced on about TBY and how quickly she was growing, and how quickly she would be gone. I assure you, that’s a good way to turn a sunny day into a dark one.

So I stopped. Pet the cat (she’s long haired, and has dreadful mats), put down my knitting, and turned to Tired of Being Youngest.

“Do you want me to help you study for your quiz?” I asked.

How often do we take time to simply soak up the sunshine? Eyrie, limited edition print by Steve Henderson

She looked up, surprised. Usually I’m too busy to do this kind of stuff.

“You bet!”

For 45 minutes, we companionably discussed the different kinds of fruit — melons, pomes, berries, pitted — and gently chatted and laughed.

I don’t know where she, or I, will be 3 years from now, or 3 months from now, or 32 seconds from now, but that afternoon, we were together — and I was there, in the present, soaking up each moment as my skin soaked up the sun.

It was warm and delicious.

All of the fine artwork in my articles is by Steve Henderson, and is available direct from the artist as originals, signed limited edition prints, and posters. Read more on my Artwork page, and contact me — carolyn@stevehendersonfineart.com, to find out how you can own fine art.

Posted in Art, blogging, children, Christian, Current Events, Daily Life, Encouragement, Family, grandparenting, Growth, home, homeschooling, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, Motherhood, News, Parenting, Personal, Random, Relationships, success, Uncategorized | Tagged cat, change, children, empty nest, knit, multi-tasking, women | 2 Comments

April Fools — the “Holiday” We Can Do without

Posted on April 1, 2013 by This Woman Writes

From Start Your Week with Steve, the free weekly e-mail newsletter of Steve Henderson Fine Art —

“Thanks to Carolyn, who celebrates every holiday whether it’s on the calendar or not, I’m a more festive person than I was when we married 30 years ago.

We can laugh at life’s challenges, we can laugh at the wind in our face, we can laugh at a Laurel and Hardy movie, but we don’t have to laugh at other people. Brimming Over poster by Steve Henderson

“But the one holiday I have never jumped into — nor has she — is April Fool’s Day. Neither of us enjoys practical jokes, which tend to make everyone but the person doing them look foolish.”

“When we laugh — and we do so often in our family — we prefer that it not be at someone, unless the someone is the cat and it just rolled off the porch. Too many people feel insecure as it is, and we prefer to use our time and resources to build people up, as opposed to tearing them down.

“People are amazing — frustrating at times, exasperating at others — but always valuable just because they are. And every one of us, every day (and especially April 1, maybe?) has the opportunity to build someone up, encourage him or her, listen, commiserate, and be kind.”

Read the rest of the newsletter at Start Your Week with Steve.

Posted in Art, blogging, Business, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Encouragement, Family, Growth, holiday, homeschooling, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, News, Personal, Random, success | Tagged April Fools, celebrate, holiday, newsletter | 1 Comment

Just a Dumb Housewife

Posted on March 29, 2013 by This Woman Writes

Years ago, when the Norwegian Artist and I decided that I would stay home and raise the kids, this was not a savvy, astute, wordly-wise, shrewd, smart decision.

That’s me (technically, “That’s I”), the dumb housewife. I wear glasses so I look smarter. No, actually I wear glasses so that I can see. Portrait by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Back in the 80s, when women could do anything they wanted, by gum, and do it better than any man, the only thing we couldn’t do was stay home and be a dumb housewife. (And by the way, in case you’re wondering, the Norwegian Artist wasn’t a brain surgeon, with the accompanying brain surgeon wages; for many years he was a white collar illustrator making as much, or less than, a schoolteacher. Without the pension.)

So we functioned on a mid-grade salary, and I, the dumb housewife, stretched funds, creatively shopped, and saved money to the point that we were able to purchase land in the country and build our own home, mortgage free. This, you understand, despite my being dumb. And a housewife.

We ate well, laughed a lot, homeschooled (yep, I could read, write, and add; for what it’s worth, I have a B.A. in English, but most of my knowledge is the result of lots of reading and experience), gardened, milked goats, ran various businesses out of the home, and generally lived a life of good solid work and good solid play. We didn’t own as much stuff as our contemporaries who both pursued careers, but we always had more time. There’s a trade off.

And throughout the years, the media message was pretty consistent: smart women pursued highly professional careers, and those who didn’t, found themselves unemployed and unemployable, because, being dumb housewives, they don’t know how to do anything. (Incidentally, very little was said, or is said today, of women who work non-exotic jobs to make ends meet; when women were “liberated” to become military Pentagon officials, those who worked “unskilled” jobs because they had to weren’t mentioned. Many of these jobs don’t seem very liberating, whether it’s a man or woman working them.)

How many jobs make us feel like this on Monday morning? Actually, mine always did, and still does. Rejoice! poster, based upon Ocean Breeze, by Steve Henderson

Several years ago, when Grandpa was in the nursing home for dementia, he panicked around every meal time, because he was convinced that he didn’t belong there and that he would be kicked out. He hovered around the dining room, afraid to return to his room because if he did, he wouldn’t have a place at the table.

All the reassurances of the professional staff resulted in nothing. Doctors were consulted; psychological theories were discussed, but Grandpa remained adamant in his fear. And then I, the dumb housewife, had a thought:

“Why don’t you put a post-it note with his name on it on the back of his chair?” I suggested.

“Couldn’t hurt,” was the reply, and the post-it note was posted.

I wish more problems could be solved that easily. Grandpa saw the note with his name on it and gave a sigh of relief. “This is my chair,” he said to the room at large. “I’m going back to my room until lunch.”

Interestingly, several weeks later, ALL of the residents had name cards at their places. I wonder where they picked up the idea?

If I wanted to apply for a job today, I would be — according to contemporary business world acumen — completely unemployable, because I can’t do anything.

Most homemakers not only have a lot of experience with people, we also recognize that children, too, are people. The Least of These poster by Steve Henderson

Most homemakers not only have a lot of experience we people, we also recognize that children, too, are people. The Least of These poster by Steve Henderson

Child care worker or teacher? No, no proper background. Cook? Nah. Office staff? Not enough experience with people. Municipal clerk? Unqualified, although I’m not sure how. I am totally inept, totally incompetent, totally without anything to say about nutrition, interpersonal relations, scheduling, basic finances, writing, or ideas on how to deal with a two-year-old throwing a tantrum in the midst of a grocery store.

Because I am just a dumb housewife.

I am wondering, when will women, and men, be liberated to the point that we are judged not based upon a degree conferred or a job title pasted on a plaque, but upon actual, verifiable, real ability?

You are not your job title. You are a human being, made in the image of God, with gifts, interests, creativity, skills, and ideas, and regardless of what you do during the day, or swing shift, do not limit yourself by the limitations imposed upon you by others.

Never let anyone make you feel dumb. You’re not. If you’re afraid of writing because you’ve had bad experiences with your essay papers, please consider my book, Grammar Despair: Quick, simple solutions to problems like, “Do I say Him and Me or He and I?” There are a lot of basic writing issues, but they don’t have to be impossible to solve. Grammar Despair is available as a paperback for $8.99 or in digital format for $5.99, through Amazon.com.

Posted in Art, blogging, Business, children, Christian, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Economy, Education, Encouragement, Family, frugal living, Growth, home, homeschooling, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, media, Motherhood, News, Parenting, Personal, Random, Relationships, success, Uncategorized, Work | Tagged current-events, dumb, home school, homemaker, housewife, media | 15 Comments

The Common Cold and Common Sense

Posted on March 27, 2013 by This Woman Writes

Well, guess who’s feeling yucky these days.

There’s me, for one (and yes, you are right; that is written in a grammatically incorrect fashion, which just goes to show how yucky I’m feeling). And Tired of Being Youngest, who did not intend to “enjoy” spring break by coughing her way through it. And the Norwegian Artist.

It’s springtime, generally not the time we want to be on the sofa, coughing, with a cold. Blossom, original oil painting by Steve Henderson

Getting sick is a rarity in our household, but when it happens we do it as a family, and, as I mentioned in an earlier article, The Uncommon Cold, the females do it one way (we rest, sensibly, and allow our bodies to naturally recover) and the males flagellate themselves.

Speaking of self flagellation, a topic I don’t recommend bringing up in general societal interaction, it is all too easy to attack ourselves — frequently more violently than the virus does — when we get sick, because we’re not supposed to get sick. Not if we’re eating healthfully, drinking enough, living stress-free, sleeping adequately, and getting good exercise. Oh, and thinking positive thoughts.

Getting sick shouts to the world that we ate a cookie, yelled at the dog, read a book when we should have been jogging, chewed our fingernails, failed somehow, because if we had been doing everything right — which is what we’re supposed to be doing all the time — then we would live intentionally, purposefully, healthfully, wisely, and well. Always.

Well, that’s nice, and I’m sure we don’t blame the smallpox decimation of Native American societies upon their slothful, out-of-touch-with-nature existence.

While it is true that living well and living wisely — starting by not eating food products packed in styrofoam boxes and stuffed into white bags — goes a long way toward living healthfully, there are an awful lot of people sneezing out there on the handles of grocery carts, and I haven’t added, “Wipe down cart handle with sanitary cloth,” to my list of things I do religiously.

Generally, we’re brimming over with good health, but the occasional viruses do bring us down. Brimming Over, original and print, by Steve Henderson

And though it may seem as if I’m trying to avoid being accused of yelling at the dog, sickness does happen, and sometimes it happens to me. Or you. And while it can be exacerbated by our lifestyle choices, other times it is in variance to them — and telling ourselves that we’re failures because we sneeze isn’t helping matters.

If sickness does nothing else, it forcibly reminds us that we are human beings, living in human bodies, and that things happen that we do not foresee, would not choose, and wish would go away — the common cold is a microcosm of life itself, and whether we got it because we eat horribly and never get enough rest, or despite our eating well and breathing in deep lungfuls of oxygen — we are sneezing, and coughing, and lying down with a headache and a slight chill. The pain is the same.

Good, bad, and in between, life happens to all of us, and one of the wisest things we can do is recognize this and stop before we think thoughts like these (or worse yet, say them aloud):

“He has cancer? He smoked all his life, didn’t he?”

“I’m sorry to hear that they lost their house. But you know, they always did seem to spend more than they earned.”

“I heard about their oldest daughter going wild. Maybe they should have been a little stricter.”

It is human nature, when we hear about bad things happening to others, to determine why — because we don’t want those same bad things happening to us. But in the process of finding out why, in the effort of avoiding the same fate, we oversimplify, to the point that our complacency can overshadow our compassion.

Compassion for others, reaching out in love, resisting the temptation to comment — these are good things. Beachside Diversions, original and prints, by Steve Henderson.

Maybe you know people who never, never get sick, and it is strongly impressed on you that this is because they live correctly — all the time — and you do not. Don’t toss out your Kleenex box.

Everyone gets sick — somehow — sometime, and if it isn’t the common cold, it’s the agonizing heartbreaks that life throws at us and we stumble blindly, painfully through.

“God bless you,” isn’t just a phrase we use after somebody sneezes. It’s an attitude we can live each day, every moment, with everyone we encounter.

Like the artwork? It is available for sale — and more affordable than you think. Originals, signed limited edition prints, and inspirational posters direct from the artist through Steve Henderson Fine Art.