AfricanKelli

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I haven’t been reading much lately. To be honest, I’ve been a bit out of sorts. Since Easter, the television came back on, junk food showed up in the pantry and a battle with anxiety began. I’ve started running again, knowing the exercise pumps endorphins and helps clear my head. I’ve been watching ridiculous comedies with my roommate until I can fall asleep on the couch and crawl off to bed leaving the nagging worry of insomnia in the living room. But the oddest thing that’s happened in the last month is I am not hungry. I’ve been cooking beautiful meals with  herbs and tomatoes from the garden only to sit down in front of a plate and not want a bite.  It part, it’s the heat.

It’s funny that the more determined I am to have something, the less likely it seems to happen. When I’m exceptionally focused at working out and eating right, I rarely notice a change. The frustration fuels me to continue, convinced the next workout will get me back in those jeans in the back of the closet. Then, for whatever reason, I just stopped. I started eating cheese  and real ice cream and having a glass of wine with dinner without worrying about running another mile the next day to right the balance. Of course, once I walked away from the pressure of eating a perfect 1500 calories and getting an hour of cardio, my body responded gratefully to the end of torment. My clothes fit better. I’m not perpetually sore. I’m not ravenously hungry and eating like a maniac between grueling workouts.

The same thing has happened, oddly enough, with this novel of mine. Once I stepped back, looked at things a bit differently and decided to stop beating myself up with the stack of rejection letters from publishers, I found a way. I asked a friend to take some back-cover portraits and look over the manuscript for grammar errors. I called a colleague who successfully self published and asked for advice. I emailed a book publisher at a self-publishing house and asked if he’d take me as a client. If he didn’t, it really didn’t matter. I wrote my novel as a gift for my father several years ago. He’s read it and understands how much he means to me. Mission accomplished. Of course, the publisher was excited to take me on as a client. The portraits are way better than I could have hoped for. The editing is complete and she liked the story! We’re moving forward. With this pattern, my vision of having a signing  in October will come to pass too.

I’m finding the less I stress over money, the easier it is to take my lunch to work and save. The less I push to be  “a good Christian,” the more I find myself naturally reaching out to help others. The less I force myself into the lives of others, the more time they want with me. The less I burden myself with being crisply ironed and always cheery, the more I am sincerely happy.

I suppose I should have listened to those years ago who told me to stop taking everything so seriously.

~K

Admiring the perfection of nature last night while cooking…

I was in a meeting this morning discussing the AmeriCorps Vista program — which puts incredibly community-minded folks in volunteer opportunities with nonprofits and other groups nationally — listening and pondering the goals of the organization. In contrast to the Peace Corps, AmeriCorps is in part geared toward ending poverty in America.

The speaker elaborated on Vista volunteers receiving a small stipend monthly that barely covers their cost of living. They are to live poor to be more motivated to work for the poor, in theory. In the Peace Corps, I was paid $56 a month and you wouldn’t believe how high that placed me on the social ladder. I had my own home, never went hungry and had plenty of pocket change for bus trips back and forth to the major cities. (The buses rarely ran and were a complete pain in the ass — think 20 people, animals and babies in an 8 passenger Toyota van — but cost wasn’t one of the challenges.) In all fairness, I probably lived a more secure financial existence on that $56 dollars a month in Cameroon (as short as this adventure lasted) than I did on the $124 of financial aid per month I made work for three years of college. I did go hungry. Scraping together enough money for Taco Bell learning to rely on friends was humbling, at best.  Regardless, neither situation made me feel sincerely poor or without hope. I always knew I had an education, good health and a strong family on which to rely.

Fundamentally, that’s the difference between true poverty and temporary class experiments. While Vista volunteers may have to creatively stretch every penny they earn to get by, chances are they’ve seen a dentist, are up to date with their immunizations, have never gone days with hunger, and have an address book full of friends and family who would take them in and help immediately if given the chance. I always had the ability to pull the ultimate “uncle!!” card in the Peace Corps, which I did after just five months. I returned to the capital and demanded my return ticket to the US.

The poor are without financial legacy. Most children born into poverty in the United States are born to children. The cycle of poor education and  health is yet again planted in the worst neighborhoods, only to produce seedlings who will one day bare the same fruit. We all know of the bootstrap stories of those who’ve pulled themselves out of this routine. President Obama, potential Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, and President Bill Clinton are in the minority. They had that je ne se quois to break through their environment for greater possibilities.

I’m not sure what we do to change these systemic flaws in American culture that keep certain sectors of society always planted in the same garden of despair. I admire the Vista volunteers working knee deep in the quagmire. Reminding those of the American dream — that you can be anything you want to be — must be far more complicated when dreaming itself  is a luxury.

~K

Finny,

Remember when you took this pic in Yellowstone after we read that now famous wolf t-shirt review on Amazon? I should have bought the shirt. I totally could be grocery shopping on a scooter, riding sideways.  I am not going to lie, I really wish we were back in the park right now. I’d love to have a handful of Red Vines, a telephoto lens on my lap and a herd of buffalo headed our way (in the form of delicious burgers.) Instead, I’ve got a handful of thank you cards to write for this weekend’s fundraiser, a stack of grant applications on my lap and a herd of appointments headed this way (in the form of a busy week.) Then again, without this job I love, I wouldn’t be able to get away for such hilarity.

So, let me just reminisce the fun for one more second before I dive back into non-vacation life:

Why am I laughing this hard? Because the waitress, as sweet as she was, asked me if I wanted Chardooooonay or Chablish. Of course, when chablish is offered, you must order the pink wine.  Thankfully, I had the manners to wait until she was out of earshot before this wave of laughter crashed. And Shelley had the manners not to push me off of her, although I think her look is telling.

Lumberjills in the morning.

What a great May this was! We had some excellent entries to the sew along as well, and I’m a sucker for adorable children. I’m pretty sure we have three winners because I love all of these. Zarah — your Russian doll fabric was a perfect choice for this project and I want one of those shirts. Lori, the embroidery? Are you kidding me? Wow. And Alevin, your daughter is about as cute as I’ve ever seen. Love the outfit you made her!

Winner, winner chicken dinners. Brava!

Antlers!

For June, I was thinking we’d get crazy with three projects again. As you know, I’m a fan of cake and these carrot cake cookies look divine. I’ll have to break my “no oven until September” rule, or perhaps I could just put the cookie sheet outside at about 4 pm and watch Mother Nature do her thing. You know, that could work… In the meantime, I’ve got lots of cereal boxes in the recycling because oatmeal first thing after my morning run makes me so hot I can’t blow dry my hair for an hour. Seriously. And what better way to put those boxes to recycled use than these great containers? And while we are at it, a bit of a sewing challenge for us all: stenciling. I love these Lotta projects and thought it would be fun to see what everyone could sew and create with fabrics they have stenciled.

So, carrot cake cookies, cereal box bins and stenciled sewing projects. This shall fuel the creative fires for June. What do you think Finny? If you were crazy crafty, and let’s be honest — I think we’re 500 miles past sanity — you could stencil fabric to cover the box to be filled with cookies. Just a thought.

xoxo,

Donk