Are You Ready For Another Story?...

If you've been around here for a while, you may remember the story I told about my Committee. If you're newer than 2017 to my blog, or if you've forgotten, HERE is the link to my first story on the subject.

Before I begin my new story, I want to tell you that I reread that original post, and all the comments that followed. At the time, I didn't know how to set up my posts to be able to reply. As I can now do that, I may take some time to go back and thank everyone who responded to it. I seemed to have touched a common theme with my friends back then, and I'd like to honor their messages to me. So, if you commented on that post, don't be surprised to finally receive a response to it.

So, back to the Committee. My mum had a pressure cooker when I was a child. Apparently, she wasn't as knowledgable as she needed to be, or perhaps she just made a mistake, but one day when she was using it, she blew the top off that cooker. From then on, I never heard anything except how dangerous they were. 

As a result, even though I've owned two used pressure cookers, I never used them, and I've either sold or given them away out of fear. My Committee kept reminding me that a cooker would blow up and they were too dangerous to use.

But, here's the thing. When you have something you want to accomplish really badly, you can overcome a fear. You can overcome the Committee and those (sometimes unfounded) voices in your head. I'm afraid of heights. I don't know how that came about, but I know it to be true. When we first moved to the farmhouse, I purchased a beautiful, big metal compass. I really wanted to put the compass in the peak of the (now) Compass Barn. So, I asked Shelly to hold the ladder, and I climbed. I beat my acrophobia and hung my compass. I came down the ladder with shakey knees, but I'd done it. Why couldn't I do the same with a pressure cooker?

Actually, I want a pressure canner. I want to be able to preserve foods without having to sweeten or pickle them. I want to safely and stably preserve meats and things like squash or potatoes. If the freezer goes out again, or we lose power, we'll still have food that won't have to be refrigerated to be safe to eat.

I had a talk with Handsome, and I metaphorically climbed another ladder. I figured if I buy a brand new pressure canner, all the parts will be new, ready to use, and safe. What did he think? (Remember, he's watched me buy and sell two before.) He responded that if I were committed to following through this time, I should go ahead and purchase one.

I searched for the best price on a nice-sized pressure canner, and ordered it over the weekend. In addition, I also purchased this guide to pressure canning so I'll have good information and more than a few recipes to safely use my new purchase. The book will be here this week, and the canner will be here soon after.

I'll also be watching a few YouTube videos, and check to see if Presto has a site with more information and tutorials. I have to say I'm really excited about this. I'm going to turn my fear into butterflies, and really, who doesn't love butterflies? I can do this. Right? I'm sure going to find out - and I promise to let you know how it goes.

"Oh, Grasshopper. You Have Much Yet To Learn"...

Well, This Is Unfortunate

I have a confession to make. Sometimes I get a little cocky about my ability to quickly pick up new techniques. It frequently makes me over confident, so when I want to do something, I just assume it will come together. Take yesterday, for instance.

I recently received a great spritz cookie maker from my sister, Diana (who is a talented baker and Pampered Chef consultant). I've never made them before, but I've certainly seen (and eaten) plenty of them. "How hard can this be?" I said to myself. 

I mixed up the dough according to the recipe, filled the clean press and started making cookies. Or not. The first three dispensed exactly as expected, and then it just got messy from there. I tried everything - including pleading - and this was as good as it got.

I Should Be Embarrassed

Finally, I just cried "Uncle!" and went with it. I sprinkled sugars or sprinkles on them, and popped them in the oven. 

Once they cooled, I put them in the container, thinking "Pass in a crowd...if the crowd's big enough." Ahh, yes. My "Committee" had spoken. If you don't know (or remember) this reference, click HERE. This post will explain. Actually, it's a good thing I linked to this post, because I reread it. Good timing, don't you think?

I texted Di, sharing the photos with her. Then we talked on the phone. We had a good laugh. I mean, who can't make a spritz cookie (beside me)? I think it's good to be reminded from time to time that I don't have to be perfect. 

I'll likely try making them again. Sometime. They're so tasty and pretty when made properly. If you've ever made spritz cookies, please feel free to share your secrets. I'd really like to learn from people who have successfully made them. 

A Short Story - Part Two...

Pinterest Image

 

I was asked to speak a little bit more about my "process", from this post last week. Thank you to everyone who commented on that post. I was truly overwhelmed by your responses. I had no idea when I shared those thoughts that I would touch so many kindred hearts. 

Have you heard these words from William Morris before? Since moving to the farmhouse, I'm really trying to embrace these words as I sort through all the things we moved to this home. I don't want to store my clutter anymore. Likewise, for so many reasons, I don't want to store clutter in my head either.

I heard a story once about a group of people who went with their therapist to dip their toes in the sea. When they arrived at the beach, the therapist had a bag waiting with the names of each of the people on the outside. In the bags were rocks of various sizes, but each bag was rather heavy. The therapist told each person to grab a bag, and then go out an enjoy the beach.

Each person grabbed a bag and went for a walk. Soon, the therapist came upon one of the people sitting in the sand and sobbing. The therapist asked what was wrong and the (woman) told her that the bag of rocks was so heavy that she could hardly drag it around as she explored the beach.

The therapist looked at her and asked,  "Then, why are you lugging them around?" The woman looked at her dumbfounded. "You mean, I don't have to keep carrying them?", she asked. The therapist replied, "Well, of course you don't. I told you to take the bag and enjoy the beach. If lugging the contents of the bag are dragging you down, let the rocks go." 

 

She then proceeded to encourage the woman to take a rock, toss it into the ocean to see how it felt. The woman was giddy. She had so much fun tossing the rocks into the sea that she continued to do it until her bag was empty, and once she no longer had the load, she was free to enjoy the rest of her time at the beach.

 

This is a story I heard decades ago, but it stuck with me. It made sense to me, and once I internalized the lesson, it was easy to embrace the lesson. Sometimes the simplest solution is the hardest one to think of on our own.

As far as those Committee members and their voices in my head? I've given them value assessments.

Like William Morris' words, are those voices useful? Do I believe them to be beautiful? If the answer is "no", then why would I give them free rent in my "house" (my head)?

I went through a grieving process with some of the Committee members, but in the end, letting them go was for the best. While some of the members still talk about me, I've decided that their opinions of me are none of my business. They don't talk with me, and that devalues them as Committee members. Their words no longer have currency in my life.

If the words of your Committee members hurt, why hold onto them? If the words of your Committee members instill sad, hurtful, anxious, vengeful, fearful or unhappy thoughts for you, let them go. Like the rocks on the beach, they'll only weigh you down. 

In my case, I decided that my life deserved to be spent doing things I love, with people who love me (and I adore in return), and celebrating the wonderful blessings that God has bestowed on me. I deserve nothing less than His best for me.

Once you can say those words to yourself - "I deserve nothing less than His best for me" - it becomes easier to evict the dead weight in your Committee and embrace those loving and joyful voices that remain. Even if it's only one voice. 

Be well. Be brave. Choose Joy. I know you can do it. I believe in you.

 

xo

A Short Story...

1988 - Bryn and Me

 

Last night I told Handsome, "Honey. This morning I woke up with a post in my head." In his most deadpan tone he replied, "Donna, you really shouldn't tee them up for me like that." It took me a second, and then I realized another way he could have interpreted my statement...and I laughed out loud. 

I told him that this subject came to mind after we attended the concert in the park the previous night. You see, something happened. Something that reminded me of how my life became joyful. It was a conscious effort, mind you. I woke up with these thoughts running through my head, and I hope you don't mind if I share them with you today.

Many years ago, I listened to a middle-aged public speaker/comedienne who told her audience that we all have a "Committee" inside our heads. You know. Those voices from our past who contribute to who we are today. All those people who are, or were, a part of your life who told you who you're supposed to be; how you're supposed to act; or just said something that stuck with you long-term. It might be a relative, friend or just something said to you in passing. 

Here are a few examples: 

My mother told me when I was a younger woman that my laugh was "too coarse", that I should "tone it down so you sound like a lady". The result was that my laugh - for a time - wasn't my own. It was hers. Of course, one was never allowed to laugh at our family dinner table, and there was a wooden spoon to reinforce that rule. I'm convinced that some parents really have no idea the negative impact they can have on their children. (Still. Put your cell phones down and talk with them!!)

 

When I entered my 30s, I opened Stitches. I taught needlework classes, and traveled around the country sharing what I had learned with others. My mother liked to "brag me up" to her friends, but would always add, "I have no talent. She stole it all from me." She was the first member of my Committee.

Other members my Committee? Mom Grace told me that I "was too good for her son", when I broke our engagement. Loving her son as I know she did, that must have been incredibly difficult for her to say (even if she was right). 

 

Grace taught me most of what I learned to begin my journey into needlework. She also taught me to knit and crochet, although I also crocheted with my paternal grandmother. Over the forty two years I knew and loved her, I frequently thanked her for sharing her knowledge with me. Her response? "It's really a case of the student surpassing the teacher, my dear."

Granddad and Me

I have more...My British granddad who always called me "his beautiful, eldest granddaughter"; or my middle aged co-worker (at the grocery store where I worked my way through high school) who shared her "rules for getting older" and a few jokes I can't repeat here, but will never forget; and always, my husband who always makes me feel loved and cherished. I always remember his words.

 

Are there other bad examples? Oh, heck yes, and sometimes I have to take a stick to them to drive them away. A comment thrown like a dagger from an unexpected (and unexplained) person; a word in passing from a drunk in a parking lot when I walked with a post-op cane; and of course, there are more, but I don't let them live here anymore.

I could go on with examples (some great, and some not-so-great) from people whose words stuck with me, but I think you get the idea. It took me many of my sixty two years, but I finally drove out the Committee members who brought no joy into my life. They no longer take up space in my head.

Now, I'm sure you're wondering at this point just where I'm going with all this, and how it has the slightest thing to do with our concert night this week. I told you that the conductor was a real cut-up. He had the whole audience in the palm of his hand, and his manner of introducing each new piece, in addition to being clever, was funny. I joined the audience in laughter as he made his way through the program.

At the end of the evening, Handsome and I were folding up our chairs to leave, when the lady who sat in front of me turned around and got my attention. She said, "I have to tell you that your laugh is infectious. I wish I could record it to make me smile every day. I just wanted you to know that I enjoyed sitting in front of you." I was surprised, smiled and said, "Thank you." 

As I went to bed Wednesday night, I reflected on that old Committee member who had managed with one sentence to make me so self-conscious about the simple, joyful act of laughing...and how the woman at the concert made me feel when she commented on my laughter before leaving the park.

This woman and her short interaction with me will stay with me. I'll carry her face and compliment with me to remind me that I chose joy. She will become the newest member of my Committee, and I'm immediately making her a Lifetime Member.

The sub-head for my blog is "...thoughts on a joyful and creative life." That's why I'm sharing this with you today. I decided long ago not to lug the boulders of sadness, frustration or downright despair around with me any longer. I left them behind nearly a decade ago. Please don't waste another moment of your life clinging to that which no longer serves you. Let go of the hurt. Let go of the words that keep you from living a beautiful, wonderful, juicy and joyful life. You deserve it. We all deserve it.

 

I'm a big fan of the movie "Somewhere In Time". In the movie, Jane Seymour plays the actress, Elise McKenna. She has a rather rotund suitor who pays entirely too much attention to her, and it's most unwelcomed. However, she's expected to return his affection. In a scene with a fellow actor, she's asked, "Surely, there must be something you like about the man." to which she replies, "Yes. His absence." That's how I feel about my evicted Committee members.

Thanks for letting me put this out there today. I appreciate that you stop by to see what I'm doing, and I also appreciate your visits. Be well. Be brave. Choose Joy.