Dentists....

I had one of those aha moments where I realized that I'm long over-due for a dental appointment and that I really wish I was young enough to bring my teddy bear and get a sticker for being a big girl. Erg. I got to see my uncle when I went to dentist growing up, and I would still get queasy sitting in the waiting room. You know it sort of mystifies me that I can contemplate packing my life on my back for 3-4 days and disporting myself in bear and cougar country and then when I have to make a dentist appointment...And I'm really hoping that I don't have any cavities. I think I might have one, but I'm praying to be mistaken. Of course if you really can't handle it the nice doctor will give you a pill that will make you forget all of it, but I'm not that far gone. Of course I'm the kid who would start crying on cue when I heard my mom making a doctor's appointment for us because I knew that was probably going to involve stickings of some sort. I keep trying to prove to myself in various small ways that I'm really not a wimp (hey, when I cracked my tibia I was over there fighting back tears and shock because I didn't want to act all wussy), but most times I think I'm probably a wimp. Heaven help me when I have kids.

lovely technology

I was thinking the other day about all the things I can do more easily with a computer and internet plus access to netflix and iTunes. I can read books on-line through Project Gutenberg , listen to lectures on Christian history or Old English through iTunes, watch movies on netflix, get recipes and workout videos for free all over the place. This all on top of e-mail and blogging and shopping on-line. I must admit that my recent infatuation with the internet comes from my new work out resolution. I can get resistance training routine on-line, yoga and pilates on netflix, and even more yoga video podcasts on iTunes. Don't got to go the gym. Don't got to buy a dvd and hope it's good. Don't got to go the library and then remember to take it back to the library and be stuck doing serially different routines every week. I've basically got those whole archive of fitness routines I can access at will. It's pretty awesome. Also, the lectures. Oh, my soul, the lectures. I've been listening Reformed Theological Seminary's series on the history of the Puritans, and it's been quite interesting. I've been needing to get my head and my body out of the ruts I've fallen into, and I'm just thrilled I can do both without spending any more money.

Anyway, that's my panegyric on internet access. Thank you lovely people who make it all work.

Fear and Fatherhood

I've been reading an interesting book lately. It's called Holy Curiosity: Encountering Jesus' Provocative Questions and is written by Winn Collier. I picked up off a five dollar table at one of those bookstores that tend to pop up overnight in the mall during Christmas season and consists of a dozen tables with books basically poured out on them. Anyway, I picked up this book, and it's proved rather fascinating. Basically the author looks at the questions that Jesus asked his disciples (and others) during His ministry on earth and asks "Why?" What purpose could God have in asking this question and not the dozen other questions that we would have asked? What can learn from answering these questions ourselves? Why did Jesus ask this particular question at this particular time to this particular group of people? The answers that Collier comes up with are both challenging and encouraging. One chapter in particular caught my attention. In his third chapter titled "Why are you afraid? The grace of letting go," Collier looks at Jesus' question to the disciples when caught in the storm on the Sea of Galilee. On this chapter Collier has a lot of good things to say about fear and the way it works with our lives and our faith, but I was particularly struck by two things. One, Jesus was afraid (ie in the Garden of Gethsemane and again on the cross when God turned His face away). Two, often times our more superficial fears (say of monsters under the bed) are actually manifestations of our loneliness and our fear that we really do have to face the "brutality of life" by ourselves. Collier illustrates this by looking to his own discussions of bedtime monsters with his son. Collier writes:

Wyatt fears he will be left to himself to fend off the menace his imagination conjures up for him...Wyatt wants to know that, as he says it, "If I really need something, you'll come up." So, even as I tell Wyatt that there are no monsters, I want to be quicker to tell him what he needs most to hear--that his safety is not in his own hands, that if any scary creatures are foolish enough to enter my son's room, his dad will be there, hell-on-wheels, faster than he can blink, to dish out a grade-A monster butt whoopin'

Collier goes on to explain to his son how he will be there like greased lightning to pummel any monster his son sees. The reason, he tells his son, not to be afraid of monsters is not because they don't exist but because his "daddy is stronger than any monster there is."

I know that's a fairly extended quote, but I latched on to it because just last week talking to my counselor he observed that there must be times when I feel very lonely. I realized that he's right. I've spent the better part of my life not fitting in and not measuring up, and it's been lonely. On top of that I've been scared. I never really saw how the two might fit together though until I started reading this chapter. Because if you'll look at what Collier says elsewhere in this chapter he's essentially saying that to be alone is to be afraid because that means there's no one outside up to help us face up the brutal realities of life. Loneliness says that it's all up to us--there's no one I can rely on except for myself. And I don't know about the rest of the world, but I'm pretty well aware that one very determined cat could wreck some serious havoc on my rear. That's not to mention germs, cars, muggers, earthquakes, loose gravel, stray bullets, political unrest and all the other bogeymen of my imagination. Of course at this point Collier goes on to talk about our need for God, but honestly one of the things that caught me most was his portrayal of fatherhood. Growing up I always had the impression that Dad would throw himself between any of us and an oncoming car cheerfully with no hesitation. What I also learned growing up was that Dad wasn't going to stand between me and the real monsters that scarred my life. The few times I went to him saying "Dad it hurts when Mom teases me about this, can you help me" I came away discouraged and undefended. It was up to me to take the abuse, alone. I had no champion at all until Allen came along and finally asked what the hell was going on. He was the first person who attempted to fight the monsters under my bed.

I find all this immensely interesting because the way I look at my dad is (big surprise) similar to the way I look at God. If Dad wasn't big enough/loving enough to fight for me then I don't see why God would be either. And so the monsters, not seeing anyone around with proper butt kicking gear, keep trying to multiply. I keep trying to push forward into my fears instead of running away from them. And many times I still feel alone. I need to find the God who is there because to be quite honest the God I know is the one who still hasn't figured out how to keep poor children in Africa from dying of malnutrition. Yes, He died on the Cross to save us from the wrath of God. Yes, He is the perfect Creator of the Universe. Yes, He is God as revealed by His word in the Bible. Sometimes I just wish I could find the God who sits by my bed and tells me not to worry about the monsters in the closet because Jesus has a special roundhouse kick for closet monsters and He'll be here in two snaps if any monster tries anything in my bedroom. And then maybe He could help my mom.

I wish my dad had taken the time to show me that kind of God. Maybe Dad doesn't know that kind of God exists either. I wish he could have though.

an actual resolution

Ok, so I'm thinking that the exercise/lose weight resolution might actually stick for longer than it took to write it. Since I've already got some momentum going I want to break it down a little better.

1. For January I'm exercising at least 20min a day six days a week. Might reevaluate this either the end of January or mid-February. For now I just need the tiniest non-guilt inducing amount that I can maintain while still getting some benefits.

2. More veggies for supper. Go crazy and fix steamed broccoli and Caesar salad with the spaghetti bolognese.

3. Go back to the eat when you're hungry stop when you're not principle. Stop obsessing about camping gear for 3 hours and get some breakfast! The sale will be there later.

4. Easy on the grains/carbs. This is January. That means we've just come through Thanksgiving and Christmas. Carrot sticks sort of follow logically after all that pie.

letters

Dear Family,

Can we stop pretending that love is something you earn?

Thanks,



Dear God,

I don't like you very much, but I still need a hug. Can you handle that?



Dear Dad,

I think people are forgetting that I'm your daughter. Do you still remember?



Dear Sisters,

Once, we were good friends. I wish we could be again.



Dear World,

I don't take shit from nobody anymore. You've been warned.

thoughts for the last day of Christmas

While elsewhere people are putting up Valentine's merchandise and pulling lights down from the rafters, Allen and I are looking forward to the last official hurrah of Christmas. The living room isn't perfectly clean. There aren't any whimsical centerpieces, crackling fires, or gathered friends. There are steaks marinating on the counter though and unopened presents waiting under the tree. This isn't the Epiphany I hope to be celebrating five or ten years from now, but it's the very best Epiphany our travel wearied selves can celebrate this year. And, by God's grace, it's enough. Tonight, with steak and good wine, gingerbread and sweet potato soup, we'll quietly close out what has, in some ways, been the best Christmas we've ever celebrated.

That's the thing about getting better with practice. I don't want this Christmas to be the best Christmas ever because that means I'll spend all my other Christmases looking back to one tiny high point wishing I could go back again and capture a few fleeting moments. I want this Christmas to be the best Christmas so far - not the best one ever. But with that desire comes to the temptation to rush ahead and try to plan three or four Christmases out instead of enjoying the one I have right here. I need to rest in imperfection for a while.

So my bookcase needs organizing, and I can think of a dozen things I'll likely try to do differently next year. But I think it's been the best Christmas so far. And that is enough for this year.

some very California jitters

If any of y'all have heard the rather arcane news that the sea lions have (mostly) gone from Pier 39 at San Fransisco's Fisherman's Wharf you will perceive the source of my jitters. Apparently the sea lions arrived shortly after the big Loma Prieta quake of '86, and now they're gone. No one really knows why, but of course there's always someone saying "well, the animals always know first." Translated: the big one is coming. I'm an Alabama girl who hasn't ever felt so much as a spoon jingling tremor, and this little quasi-rumor has me just a tad spooked. Here's hoping there's more to the sardine fluctuations than the scientists realize and there's a perfectly plausible reason for this odd occurrence that has nothing to do with large scale plate convulsions. Eep!

A few goals for the New Year

Nothing very well thought out here but just a few wishes and intentions for the next few months.

1. Go backpacking

This is one I've been planning for and working towards for a long while. We're thinking about making a short trip just to get acclimated, but I'd love to visit Pt. Reyes and Yosemite. Pretty much just gotta get the water filter and rent some packs once we plan our first trip.

2. Go snowshoeing in Yosemite.

This one we're planning to do by the end of this month :D

3. Exercise 3 days a week

Now that I've started getting my mind in shape I'm wanting to work on my body. I don't care if it's five minutes or thirty minutes. I got a new pilates type workout set for Christmas, and I'm planning on putting it to use.

4. Lose 20lbs

Something I've been meaning to/half trying to accomplish for about 2 years but just haven't really settled down to consistently.

5. Read something interesting

Ie Emerson, Shakespeare play I've never read, Calvin, lit theory, theology, etc

6. Read my Bible more.

Yeah, we aren't going to talk about how much I don't read my Bible. However, as I'm starting to become more honest with myself I'm starting to realize just how much I really need to get in touch with the God who is instead of the God I imagine.

7. Find a job and/or volunteer position.

I think it's about time I start spreading my wings and figuring out just where I fit in this world. Besides that I've gots to keep my hands busy.

8. Invite someone over for supper/coffee/lunch.

Repeat as necessary to develop friendships and community :D

Happy New Years with a box of tissues

Hi folks! Sorry I haven't been posting for a while, but Christmas got extremely busy, and what with all the seasonal germs getting together with the seasonal pie eating I've come down with a cold. So I'm holed up on my mother-in-law's couch drinking tea and postponing packing as long as possible. Tomorrow we start the grand road trip to Dallas to visit Allen's great-grandmother, and I'm really hoping that I'll feel a bit more human by tomorrow morning. With seven people in a seven passenger van for ten hours this is not the time to be hacking up your lungs onto someone else's neck. Anyway, we've had a lovely but busy Christmas and are once again looking forward to being back home.

Hope everyone enjoys their New Year's celebrations!

Counting down the miles

Pretty soon Allen and I will scrunched up in economy class trying to catch a couple hours of sleep as we count down the miles to Christmas at home. Finally, mercifully, it's all starting to come together. The box of gifts has been sent off -possibly too late for the family gathering on Saturday but in plenty of time for Christmas, but that's not a total disaster since I've got a few more goodies tucked into my suitcase. The living room is lived in clean, by which I mean there's a plate here and some strayed kitchen towels there. Again, nothing disastrous. Similar could be said for most of the apartment with the exception of the back bedroom which has been the staging area for numerous Christmas intrigues and looks the worse for it.

For Advent we have eaten steak and pumpkin pie and homemade soup and leftover turkey sandwiches with lovely wines to smooth out the edges. I've decorated my tree, strung lights, lit candles, and decorated gingerbread cookies. All this and it's still a week before Christmas. It's easy for me to think about the lovely things I'd love to do for Christmas -more handcrafting for instance - and lose sight of the things I have done. A year ago I couldn't have imagined that I would celebrate the holidays with such a relatively low amount of stress. Life, breathing, is coming easier to me. Some of that has unfolded in the Christmas decorations around me and the presents wrapped and under the tree waiting for Epiphany when Allen and I, returned again to this new land, will finish the Christmas season together with all the abundance that overflowed our boxes and suitcases. I've done pretty well for a girl who started the year with as much overwhelming guilt and unredeemed pain as I did. And now I'm sitting here counting down the hours until a friend from church picks us up and takes us to the airport so we can go home for Christmas. It's been an amazing journey.

To everyone else out there seeking beauty, grace, and rest -Merry Christmas.

Almost there.....

Well Advent is almost over, and Christmas is almost here. It's a sort of happy sad occasion for me because on one hand I'll be going home and on another hand I really like making Christmas in my own home. Ok, so in the past it's been challenging. It's a challenge I've been warming up to these past few years. Since we're flying home this year I've kept things fairly simple overall - there's a strand of lights and a red beaded garland draped over my bookcase, a nativity scene in the bedroom, and another in the living room, some candles, and my tree. Against all common sense I had to have my tree. It's about six feet tall and covered with nearly that many strands of lights. I've got all my ornaments from Granny and Mamaw and Allen's mom on it along with some I painted and some others I picked up here and there traveling. Every year it's about the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. One day I plan to be that mom who decorates the house from top to bottom with candles, lights, fruit, greenery, and colored balls. I'm going to build me an Advent nest and curl up inside with a mug of cocoa and a wedge of pecan pie. But for now I'm just one of the kids hopping on an airplane and flying home. I look forward to it. I'm really looking forward to it. I'm also looking forward to the day when home isn't a place you visit once or twice a year.

Advent

The past week has been simultaneously very busy, very good, and very disconcerting. As for the very busy and very good parts I've found that I've had a lot more energy lately. I'm getting up earlier and getting more stuff done. My bedroom is so neat it almost feels like a hotel room, and we put together our 15ft bookcase in the living room. On top of that I've put up the tree, cooked, gone Christmas shopping, and in general gotten more work done in one week than I used to get done in a single month during some of my bad spells. I'm doing really well, and there is a part of me that finds this very disconcerting. I'm finding myself scrambling for the guilt and angst that have been my environment for the past only God knows how many years. True rest eludes me as my mind casts itself back and forth seeking its old companions. I know that I'm doing vastly better than ever before -I'm feeling better, doing more, and in general more comfortable with myself as an autonomous individual. I know all this, but I'm heaving and gasping like a flatlander in the Alps. I've breathed the air of guilt and insufficiency for so long that don't know what to do now that I'm breathing purer air. That's really what it feels like. I know that everything is going well and that I should be resting and enjoying my labors, but I feel so restless. Allen says I'm learning new habits and won't feel so lost for long, but I never expected that getting better would feel like wandering over some unmarked border where suddenly everyone speaks a different language. It's rather disconcerting.

Pear, Mascarpone, and Almond Tart

I tried a new recipe out tonight and ended up surprising myself. I usually don't go in for anything too gourmet, but even though this made up quite easily it felt fancy and somewhat decadent. As usual I went hunting for recipes and then adapting one to suit my own ideas.


This recipe is adapted from one at Cookstr.com.

First, you'll need a baked nine inch pie crust in a tart pan (or I used a steep sided pie pan.

For your filling you'll need the following:

2 pears peeled, cored, and sliced
white wine for poaching (I used some Riesling I had on hand)
1/3c brown sugar/succanat
1t nutmeg
1t cinnamon
2/3c mascarpone
1/4c white sugar (I used zylitol)
1 egg + 1 egg yolk
3T milk or cream
1 1/2T almond paste
slivered almonds

The original recipe called for canned pears, but I used fresh and poached them in a mixture of white wine, nutmeg, cinnamon, and sugar. I used just enough wine to almost cover the pears. Once the pears were tender I removed them from the liquid and reduced the liquid to about half a cup -by which time the liquid resembled a dark caramel. (Warning, the boiling wine smelled pretty foul to me until I added the cinnamon and reduced the liquid. Afterwards it tasted great so don't get scared if it smells weird.)
While the liquid is reducing mix together the remaining ingredients in a food processor.

Here is one place where you might want to play around. I ended up arranging the pears in the bottom on the pie pan, pouring the sugar mixture on top, and pouring the custard mixture over all. You could also put the pears on top. I don't think it really matters that much. Either way reserve a tablespoon or two of the liquid because if you pour it on top of the custard you can swirl it around with a fork or a toothpick, and it looks really pretty. Last of all sprinkle some slivered almonds over the top and bake in an oven at 325 for 30 minutes or until the custard is set. Let cool on a wire rack before serving.


This is hands down the prettiest dessert I've ever made. The custard turns a lovely golden color and the sugars caramelize into interesting little swirls. I was worried about the almonds on the top burning, but they ended up adding a lovely punctuation mark to the whole presentation. I think it's also going to be a fun dessert to play around with. There's proportions to play with for one, but I could also change up the flavors (Lemon zest? Red wine? Pecans?) and presentation (different designs and layering methods). For being fairly rich (all that mascarpone) this tart doesn't feel at all heavy like a cheesecake or some pudding desserts. If you accept my usual caveat that I rarely measure and these amounts are generally estimates I think it's worth a shot.

internet resolutions

Resolved: to stop reading web articles that don't interest me. Far better to put on a timer and just stop and read my book for half an hour than to read things that A. are mere repetitions of things with which I already agree and aren't instructional or edifying or B. lots of words winding down from faulty premises to an unenlightening conclusion. If I want to scroll for information after supper that's fine. There's no reason for me to be wasting my day in this manner. Also, with counseling and such I have plenty of advice and matter for contemplation without worrying about what some person with at least partially ill-conceived ideas has to say about matters of marginal interest.

Now, back to some matters of real worth.

and right into advent

We appear to have slid ride down the Thanksgiving Day slide only to land in the ball pit of Advent. There's no reprieve this year from all the festive food slinging -no week to spend stretching your belts and digging out your loose fitting pants. It's a turkey sandwich in one hand and gingerbread men in the other. Merciful heavens I don't know how exactly this is going to work. I spend so much time getting ready for Thanksgiving, and now I'm already behind on Christmas. It feels that way anyway. So instead of spending a leisurely day tomorrow running the laundry and in general recovering from the Thanksgiving rush I'm going to be rearranging my living room so that we can go get a tree to put up Tuesday. Since I also wanted to have my new bookcase put together by Christmas I'm going to be clearing out room in the living room tomorrow so that when we come home tomorrow with our Christmas tree we can start on that. SO! This week I'm going to put together a bookcase, decorate my Christmas tree, clean up the apartment, finish shopping for Christmas presents, and try to do at least one Christmas-y thing for myself. Oof. I need a nap.

More thoughts before the Feast

This is the part where things start to get sad. Looking on Facebook I see my old pastor "incandescently happy" to have his daughter home to Thanksgiving; I see my younger sister updating her profile as she leaves college herself and then arrives at home, and it hurts. It hurts because I don't know what it means for my dad to love me that much. It hurts because no one is at home waiting for their daughter to come and complete the circle -at least if they are they haven't said anything about it to me. There's a lot of heartache there. And when I mention my old pastor I don't mean to say that I think he's a perfect dad or that my life would have been materially better if I'd been born into a different family. For all their flaws I love my parents a lot. I just know that there's a dad out there on Facebook with the biggest grin I've ever seen on his face just because his daughter came home, and I wish that was me and my dad. This is the part of Thanksgiving that hurts. This is where are the old war wounds start aching and twinging in the sweeping east wind of love seen from afar.

thoughts before the feast

In many ways this upcoming Thanksgiving feels so momentous. It's my first turkey and my first major holiday away from family. It's the first Thanksgiving I've planned and honestly one of the first camping trips I've planned without some major emotional hijinks. I'm starting to enjoy being Natalie -to lose some of the guilt and get back in touch with my desires. It's the night before we leave, and I'm not running around worrying about the unswept floor or the laundry yet to be stowed away. Most of my meal prep is done. I didn't leave a huge pile of dishes in my wake. Allen's pleased, and it looks like the turkey will just fit inside my dutch oven. The vegetables might get the ultra-traditional cooked in an aluminum foil pouch treatment, but but I think it's all going to come together. And no one is crying, yelling, or forcibly losing hair. It's a nice feeling. Tomorrow I'm going to pull together our clothes and personal sundries, prep the turkey, pack the ice chests and freezer bags, and head out to pick up Allen from work before wandering off into the hills. This is probably the least stressed I've been about any trip I've taken this year. Of course this is still the night before. We'll see when I wake up tomorrow morning. Still, I can remember feeling absolutely sick to my stomach the night before a trip from massive amounts of guilt and worry. Yes, and I still wanted to go camping. "The mountains are calling" is a pretty powerful motivator. By God's grace though I've been able to see through much of that guilt and frustration to the larger issues beyond, which has allowed me to reconnect with what's really important. Planning for this Thanksgiving has been so much fun (after the initial bout of homesickness and frustration) because I'm seeing just how far I've come in the past few months. When I look back on the first year Allen and I were married I can't believe just how much of me was buried in a swirling pool of pain, hurt, and denied longing. Sometimes I feel as though I'm only just now waking up after a long hibernation. So like any old bear crawling out of her cave I'm going to wander around in the woods and each a bunch of food.

10 reasons I love smoothies

Here are my top reasons why smoothies are great.

1. Strawberries
2. Blueberries
3. Pineapple
4. Blackberries
5. Bananas
6. Cherries
7. Raspberries
8. Mango
9. Honeydew melon
10. Papaya

Of the fruits on that list there isn't one of them that I ate regularly before I started drinking smoothies once a day. The odd apple was pretty much all the fruit I ate on even a semi-regular basis. Now on any given day I'm getting in multiple servings of fruit, and during any given week I'm eating eight to eleven different fruits along with kefir, orange juice, carrot juice, and powdered greens. It's a meal that's never boring, always surprising, and endlessly fulfilling. It's like your best relationships in a glass :D

creating beauty - resting in beauty

Homemaking is finally, slowly starting to make sense to me. It's not just about getting things done. The list is as important as you make it. No one will die if you don't make the bed or dust the china cabinet. I've heard people say that we should think of housework as a blessing we bestow on others, but I think there's more to it than that. I think housework makes room for blessings. Even more so I think it creates opportunities for rest. Making the bed or scrubbing the sink is work. It can be redeemed work, but it's really work. Walking into your clean kitchen to make bread or pies or breakfast pancakes can be rest, recreation, and hospitality all in one. The clean counters make way for restful occupation.

I think this explains something that has puzzled me about my childhood home. Growing up in that home was at times a confusing and traumatic experience, and yet I experienced moments of great peace and rest while there. I think of the sun shining through my bedroom window, the smell of pancakes and coffee in the morning, the sooty metallic scent of the wood burning stove, and the gleam of hardwood floors in the sun's slanting rays. All those memories involved work -often my work at that. Cleaning and polishing the wood floors, washing dishes, carting armloads of wood up the deck stairs. We went to effort and we basked in the results -shining floors, good smells, and warming fires. This puzzled me though because I very rarely saw my mom content and resting from her work, or perhaps I should say that I very rarely saw her resting to enjoy her work. For that reason I think I saw the good results of work and exulted in them without understand why or how they came about and how I should be enjoying them. Now, it's starting to make more sense to me. I hang curtains in the living room (well actually Allen did), and then I sit back to enjoy the soft, frosty colored light filtering through their white lengths. I clean the kitchen so that I can enjoy the rest and joy of mixing up pies for Thanksgiving. It's not work before you play because work is intrinsically more valuable, it's work before you play because rest is more important and therefore requires more preparation.

I think that's the secret.

satisfactory resolution

Yesterday I had the curtains of doom, and today I had the phone call of despair. Fortunately both situations resolved themselves, but I had a good little time of it until they did. First, the curtains of doom. A while back I bought some lovely cream colored gauzy material to make sheers for the bedroom. Since we live on the ground floor with people walking by during the day it's can feel a bit exposed with the blinds open. It's also dark if you leave the blinds closed. Hence the sheers. Well I finally decided I was going to go ahead and get my bedroom curtains up. So first I sat down and very carefully trimmed the fuzzy edges off the selvage. Then I ran a line of fray check down the side just to make sure. Then I thought about how on earth I was going to get that gauzy stuff to lay flat and square for me to measure it out. Then I thought about trying to roll any sort of hem before the edges unraveled under my fingers. Fortunately I wanted my curtains to pool on the floor just a bit. You serious seamstresses may cringe here, but I plopped my fabric on the ironing board and eyeballed a strip of fusing right across it, trimmed the excess, turned the edge under, and ironed. I measured my length from the hem, ran another strip across to fasten the bottom of the sleeve, then measured again and ran another length across the top to turn the raw edge under. I trimmed and turned the top raw edge, ironed it down, then brought the turned edge down the fusing to make a sleeve. I ran off four panels this way before adjourning to my sewing machine to run a straight stitch down each of my "seams" to hold them in place. Normally I think the fusing would hold the fabric, but the weave on this stuff was so loose it wouldn't hold the fusing very well. Fairly straightforward to tell, but it took me at good 30min per curtain just to get all the ironing and trimming done. However, now I have nice, soft, full, draping sheers in my bedroom. They filter the light beautifully and are a soft, almost delicate counterbalance to all the sturdy wood furniture in there. I'm glad I went to the trouble, but I'm not so sure I would do it again in a hurry.

To my next bit of perplexity - I wrote a while back that Allen and I had made reservations up in redwood country for Thanksgiving weekend. Well today I got a phone call saying that California had decided to close that park for the season or something like that. I can't say I understand myself why they don't just raise their prices and/or run their parks more efficiently. I really don't believe that California's budget problems are due to someone leaving the faucet on at their local campground. Anyway, I got that call this morning. Hours of searching for a suitable campground for naught -and the week before Thanksgiving too when all the parks are either closed for the winter or bang full up with reservations. I was perturbed. To put it mildly. With a tent I'm a little less ambivalent about trying to get a site on busy weekends than I would be with an RV. At least with an RV you can always have pretty good odds of boondocking for the night if you can't get a site. It's harder to do that with a tent. Thank the Lord though when I was searching I came across a private campground in that same area that wasn't full, took reservations, and was close to all the areas we wanted to see. I had a bad hour or two of it wondering if we'd be scrapping our Thanksgiving plans, but it looks like we won't have to now. Thank the Lord.