she gave a girl some figs.

My friend and coworker brought this girl some figs last week. I brought them home and let them sit almost too long before eating them. But when I cut them open and ate them...they were delicious. Perfectly ripe and sweet. And so, so good.

Would you believe I'd never even tried a fig until I was about 25? I lived in this little ramshackle apartment out in the country. It was funky, but I loved it. Noni came out to my place one day and looked at this ugly tree in my front yard and said, "You have a fig tree? I love figs!"

I didn't even know what a fig was, let alone what a fig tree looked like. But there it was, a gnarled fig tree right next to my parking spot. Noni made me promise to let her know when the figs began turning purple.

A few months later the figs began to turn purple so I picked a bunch, took a drive to Noni's and she enlightened me to the goodness of the fig. From that moment on...I loved them, too.

If you've never eaten a fig and you think you want to give it a try just make sure that the figs are very ripe, almost too ripe. And you can eat the skin, or not. I do not. Not that I wouldn't. I guess I don't because Noni didn't.

We went to a bible study one night years ago and the hostess made figs stuffed with goat cheese, drizzled with honey and sprinkled with chopped pistachios. Oh my...are you kidding me? They were amazing.

My coworker brought more figs in to work yesterday and I shamelessly grabbed (more than) my share. They are ripening on my kitchen island as we speak. Not everyone at work was excited about the figs...most of them went for the tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers that she brought instead of the figs. Apparently, figs are one of those things you either love or you don't.

I happen to love them...yes, because they taste delicious, but also because they make me think of Noni.

Oh, and I found some recipes on Pinterest that look awfully good...

Fig jam.
Fig jam on a sandwich with bacon and brie? Yes please.
And who doesn't like a fig newton?
How about this wedding cake just because it is beautiful (scroll down).

Magnolia Blossom...

source

I met a 92 year old woman the other day. Her name is Margaret. "I go by Margaret, or Maggie, or Magnolia Blossom." (One of my best friends does elder care and Margaret is her newest "friend".)

I chose to call her Magnolia Blossom.

She's all of maybe 5'2", maybe, and with a personality a mile high. She had a smile in her eyes and determination in her step.

She had interesting stories to tell, of growing up with 13 siblings, of marrying a pilot at the age of 18, of moving to Japan and travelling "two weeks by ship just to be with him", even being hit on by Bob Hope while on board. She has a very cool photo to prove it. Apparently she was wearing a sheer blouse that you could see through to her slip and he turned to her and said in a "cheeky" voice, "How the hell are ya?" Can you imagine?

She talked about how she raised two boys but always wondered why God never gave her a girl.

She talked of living a wonderful life with her husband, the pilot...until "he got sick and up and left me...I went crazy for a while after that...I just couldn't believe he was gone." This is the only time the smile in her eyes faded.

We visited in her living room, frames full of family portraits, walls full of painting after painting, most her own originals...a pagoda, red geraniums, bowls of fruit, a wind mill, a Peruvian king (this was her favorite...my friend loved the bowl of fruit...and I was partial to the geraniums). She was incredibly talented.

When asked to play us a tune on her piano she replied, "Oh I haven't played in a hundred years...but let's see what we can do."

And she played...and then she sang...and it was wonderful...and I wondered why I wasn't filming her, documenting this beautiful human beings zest for life. I wondered if her grandchildren know how amazing she is. I wondered if they realize what a treasure she is. I wondered if they had footage of her singing and playing a song on the piano from a memory that was slowly fading. (And I wondered why I didn't film my own grandparent's when I had the chance. Note to self: seize the moment. Magnolia would have.)

Then my friend and I played a sorry rendition of Heart and Soul and Magnolia danced and clapped, smiling as though she thought we might actually have known what we were doing.

Margaret continued to tell her incredible stories...and told them again, and again...over and over and over. And each time she told the story about living in Japan in a "27 room mansion with 7 servants...can you imagine?" she told it just as she told all of the other stories...verbatim and with just as much gusto and amazement as the time before.

The thing about Magnolia is that she loved her life. All of it. Or at least all that she was able to remember. She loved her husband. She was happy. And her joy was contagious.

She made me smile. She made me happy. She made me miss my grandparents.

Thank you for the nice visit, Magnolia. I hope to see you soon.

"You called me Magnolia. I haven't been called Magnolia in a long time. My husband called me Magnolia Blossom. He was a pilot. We lived in Japan for three tours. It was wonderful. We lived in a 27 room mansion with 7 servants. Can you imagine? I'll be 92 in March. I don't even need glasses...or a cane. My neighbor, she needs a cane! But I'm doing great! And I'll be 92 in March, can you imagine?"

Yes, Magnolia Blossom, I can. And I can only hope to be as happy and content with my life as you when I am almost 92.

focusing on the good.

Go here to see who did what.

I am finding that focusing on the good is helpful to me. It reminds me of the blessings in my life...it reminds me of how fortunate I am...and how good life can be when I choose to see good things.

Focusing on the good reminds me that there is beauty in the world...there are good people...and good experiences. It's a challenge some days....this world is going to hell, literally. And everywhere I turn I see despair...and pain...and ugliness. I can really dwell on that if I let myself.

But instead of dwelling...I'm focusing on the good.

• Sun tea. Yes, again. I can't help myself.
• A car load of hilarious and animated teenagers on their way to student council camp...and being in charge of the stereo, "Mom! Bump it!" (I was pretty sure that meant, "Turn it up!" So I did. :)
• Cooler temps in August...it's been beautiful.
• Corn on the cob. With butter. And pepper.
• My mom and dad. They are awesome. And I appreciate them.
• Talking to a friend on the phone. xo
• Meeting new people and learning new things in the process.
• Gray nail polish on my toes.
• Being understood.
• A teensy bit of light shining in the darkness. It's a start. 
• A drive in the country with my husband.
• New music.
• Clean sheets.
• Encouragement.

How about you? What's good in your corner of the world?

life in the meantime.



Chris and I went to a yard sale a few weeks ago...

It's Friday...I slept in late. I don't usually like to do that...but I'm thinking I must have needed it. Rather than beat myself up about it...I'm going with it...taking it slow...puttering around the house...

The boys slept in, too...it is summer after all. It's gonna be a rude awakening when school rolls back around...for all of us.

I am still processing the fact that Papa is no longer here on this earth with us...it's so hard to believe. As much as I didn't want to, I believed it when Noni went to be with Jesus. I am figuring because Noni's passing was a family affair, it was such a process, and I had the privilege of being a part of that process. I am so grateful for that time with her...so, so grateful.

Papa's departure wasn't a process...it wasn't a family affair. It was him...and Jesus...and they decided the time...and that was that. There is peace in that, too because we all believe that is exactly how Papa wanted it.

That was a gift... The gift of peace...  God is good...all the time.

In the meantime...family gathers, plans are made, tears are shed, and in the middle of it all there is laughter and gratitude and good times and hugs and memories and love...lots and lots of love...another gift.

In the meantime...groceries need to be picked up, dinners need to be made, kids need to go to practice and parties and games and youth groups. Business needs to be run...gardens need to be watered...and all the while there are the underlying emotions...joy and sorrow, gratitude and peace.

I will always miss Papa. For my whole life. I still miss Noni immensely and it's been two years. I miss my Papa Gene and he's been in heaven for over 10 years. I miss Grandpa Fred, Chris' grandpa (but I claim him as my Grandpa, too!) . I will always miss them...always. Always and forever. They held special places on this earth...and they hold special places in my heart...that only they can fill.

Until we meet again...I'm so grateful for amazing memories of amazing human beings that I am so blessed to call family.

I bought an apron.



Apron from Marshall's.
Eggs and lemons from
my backyard.

I don't wear an apron. I didn't even have an apron until last week. It's not to say I don't need an apron...I'm a pretty messy cook. I just have never thought to wear one (until after the bacon grease splattered, of course).

My mom wears an apron. Far as I know, she's always worn an apron. I remember, just around dinner time, she'd head to the kitchen, put on her apron, and get started on making us a yummy dinner.

My grandma Dottie wore an apron. The kind that was more like a smock...with the little ties on the sides. And pockets in the front...I think maybe for her tissues and cigarettes. I can see her now...standing in her kitchen, something onion-y and potato-y simmering on the stove, slicing an apple for me, and even peeling it. What a treat.

But I don't wear an apron.

And now with the apron craze, I almost rebel a little more, refusing to jump on the bandwagon. What a brat, huh? I have my moments...more often than not if you ask some people.

Well...I was at Marshall's last week...one of my favorite stores, the home department especially. I was browsing around and noticed some cute fabric out of the corner of my eye. And whaddya know...it was an apron. It was pretty cute. The price was right. I had some birthday money burning a hole in my new wallet that I also bought with birthday money. I tossed the apron in my cart.

Now I have an apron. I haven't worn it yet. And more than likely won't...until canning time, that is. Canning is even messier than cooking. Think peaches and pickles and tomato sauce. Think strawberry jam. Mm, mm...can't wait.