"You say grace before meals.

All right.

But I say grace before the play and the opera,

And grace before the concert and pantomime,

And grace before I open a book,

And grace before sketching, painting,

Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;

And grace before I dip the pen in the ink."

G.K. Chesterton

from an early notebook (mid 1890's)

the most important meal of the day + berry berry stuffed french toast

I grew up with a real distaste for breakfast. I went through phases where I simply wouldn't eat breakfast, I hated the nights where we had "breakfast for dinner", and the only kind of egg I would eat was a hard boiled egg. Then there were phases where I would eat food in the morning but it was more along the lines of cold spaghetti or pizza (seriously so good I would still eat it for breakfast). At least I was eating something for the most important meal of the day, right?

I have since acquired a better breakfast routine. While I would say my first breakfast is a simple cup of coffee, I eat granola with fruit and yogurt nearly every weekday morning. It is so satisfying.

One of my favorite parts about the weekend is that I have time to make a real breakfast and don't have to rush off to work.

About a month ago I made french toast for my very first time (with the help of this girl). I know, I know, it's quite ridiculous that it took me 25 years to make french toast, but, like I said, I used to hate breakfast.

Anyway, I'd been eyeing a few things in the fridge and while sitting in church Sunday morning enjoying my first breakfast (delicious Metropolis coffee), I began to dream up what version of french toast I would try making when I got home.

This is what I came up with: And here's a forewarning, it's quite the improvisation since I didn't have quite what I needed and there is little to no nutritional value to this breakfast ;)

First I brought out the kitchen aid to make some whipped cream. In my opinion, french toast must always be topped with whipped cream. (Combine heavy cream, a little vanilla, a couple spoonfuls powdered sugar. Mix until stiff peaks form)

I grabbed some close to being stale bread and dipped it in a milk/egg/cinnamon bath (For 2 pieces of bread I used 1 egg, 1/4 cup milk, a lot of cinnamon). If you happen to have a loaf of white French bread where you can slice a nice thick piece and make a pocket for stuffing, by all means -- do it.

For my stuffing (because, again in my humble opinion, one should never eat "unstuffed" french toast) I made a little blueberry sauce (combined a handful of blueberries, a tbsp of water and a few swirls of honey in a small saucepan and mashed it all together until it was nice and blue and saucy) and then combined the blueberry sauce with a little strawberry jam and mixed it with a bit of cream cheese. Now, I was a little over-zealous on the fruit side of things and this will cause the stuffing to be a bit runny. This is not ideal. It should be in the realm of "spreadable".

Now, if you had a nice thick piece of bread, cut a pocket and fill with the fruit/cream cheese stuffing. If you have regular 2-day-old bread, then take two slices and make a sandwich with the cream cheese goodness in the center. **Note I do brown the inner-sides of the bread before slathering the cream cheese on it.

Now throw this “sandwich” on the stove and cook both sides.

When it’s cooked to your desire, put french toast on plate, cover with more blueberry goodness, add a generous portion of that whipped cream and a sprinkle or two of powdered sugar.

(Optional: sit on front porch with large cup of coffee and people watch while M. Ward plays on the stereo and you indulge yourself in the yumminess of Berry Berry Stuffed French Toast)

Making space

I've been looking forward to this week for quite some time now: it's moving week.

The roomie and I have been throwing out and sorting and cleaning over the past few weeks; we have accumulated quite a bit of stuff living in this lovely apartment. Stuff that we will likely never miss after it's gone, stuff that has not seen the light of day in over a year. Stuff

like phone chargers dating back to 2006, old issues of magazines no longer in print, wedding invites, and taylor swift tote bags. And these-a-things-a-gotta-go.

I'm a saver, a collector, the sentimental-can't-let-go type of hoarder. I keep movie ticket stubs, cardboard coasters, business cards, t shirts I accumulated on trips out of the country, thank you notes and invites. Yep, I'm that girl (and I attribute this to being Tena's granddaughter). This really is not a quality I am so proud of. And a quality that makes moving a bit difficult.

So I did my best to not think about things and threw a lot of stuff out. Just dumped it and tried to forget about it. Moving on a little lighter with some open space (to eventually collect new stuff). Gosh it feels good to lighten the load.

Roomie and I spent the afternoon at the new apartment cleaning and envisioning everything in its right place. We filled the bookshelves and pantry and left open space for the movers to deliver the big stuff on Tuesday and then started dreaming about new things to buy and create to make this place our new home.

Like this reading bed for the den/guest room and adorable duvet cover I want in my bedroom.

My space is really important to me. I want my space to

reflect who I am, I want it to be welcoming, comforting and inspiring. And then there is sp

ace in the form of time, and the figurative space and, man, my mind has been on overdrive really turning these concepts over this week.

There have been so many questions running through my head about how/what I choose to consume to fill my space, what I allow to consume my time, what I do and do not leave time and space for.

Have you ever thought about that? Probably. I've thought about this many a times. I was just reminded again this week. I was reminded that what we put in will, indeed, affect what comes out. The person I am is most definitely a reflection of who I surround myself with, what I invest my time in and what I leave space for...

Exhibit A, B, and C:

Listening to sad love songs will certainly evoke melancholic state, sitting by big sunny window at work equals positive attitude and high energy, spending time seeking Him and the person of Christ, making space and allowing the goodness of God will surely produce the fruits of the Spirit.

That's supposed to be good news. It is good news. But it's also hard news. I guess the trick is making that space and leaving that space open. Not so easy.

Red is in the Land Too

Good gracious I have neglected this blog for far too long. Well, I wouldn't say neglect, I've thought about writing several times over the past month, but I quickly become overwhelmed by just how much I want to share. In the spirit of moving forward, the past month will go, more or less, undocumented. I return the blogosphere in the here and now...

Tuesdays seem to be my preferred writing day. I find this interesting as Tuesday is my least favorite day of the week. Tuesday is my arch-nemesis. Seriously, I have my reasons.

This morning started off in true Tuesday fashion. One of the very first calls I picked up was an upset (to say the least) father who openly told me he did not feel the need to treat me with respect because he wasn't treated with respect by the department I work in. He explained this over and over agaign all in a very rational manner almost as if I should agree with him that he shouldn't have to treat me with respect. I mean, because that's normal, right? Wrong.

I had to pause here, roll my chair around and soak in the sunshine that was pouring through the large window behind me. *sigh* I returned to the phone to continue to accept, apologize, ammend, and try try try again to move forward in the conversation.

I cling to sunshine; I crave it -- just can't get enough. I find rest and comfort in it.

Tuesday I spend my lunch hour outside wearing sunglasses, taking off my cardigan and letting my shoes fall to the step below. I pop purple grapes while I re-read Susanna's masterpiece. Jagged with Love is beautifully unexpected...

"red is in the land too, is in the the way we look at eachother, the hardness

of our sleep, the need to fall down, to tell of the pox that swept Aunt Jess,

the drink that ushers Father, the path that never leads to wealth or rest

or health - the the one we always take. Shalom, we say Buena Suerte."

Susanna's words strung so perfectly, so effortlessly together hold meaning.

On my lunch break, during the busyness of Tuesday afternoon, I think of book club. I look forward to an evening with dear friends, a spring dinner, maybe an Allagash on the patio. It will be delightful. We might even talk about books.

And then I have a hard time remembering why I hold such a distaste for Tuesdays.

Whatever this day may bring

On the lunar calendar, it's a new moon (no Twilight reference intended!), it's March, it's daylight savings, it's spring.

On the church calendar, we are in the lenten season. A season of somber anticipation leading to the death and finally the resurrection of our JESUS.

I would say both of these calendars put us in a time of awakening, looking forward to what is coming next.

There is something about spring that compels me to connect with nature, to return to a very physical sense of this earth. The ground is softening, the temperatures rising, the grass greening. During Lent, we look at the last days of JESUS on earth; a very human JESUS (...which leads up to a very beyond-this-earth event). I grabbed a book of meditations for Lent from church a couple weeks ago, and as I read the meditation (below) on the way to work early one morning, I was struck by the last two lines of Bonhoeffer's prayer. Lord, whatever this day may bring, Your name be praised. This meditation encouraged me to cling to a heavenly presence, to let go of the stronghold I have on this earth. To submit my flesh to my spirit...

I Cannot Do This Alone

O God, early in the morning I cry to you.

Help me to pray

And to concentrate my thoughts on you;

I cannot do this alone.

In me there is darkness,

But with you there is light;

I am lonely, but you do not leave me;

I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help;

I am restless, but with you there is peace.

In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;

I do not understand your ways,

But you know the way for me...

Restore me to liberty,

And enable me to live now

That I may answer before you and before men.

Lord, whatever this day may bring,

Your name be praised.

Amen.

-Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Tomorrow is the first of March. March -- the month that marks the upside, the light at the end of the long tunnel I call midwest winters. Last night as I walked down a slushy North Avenue with a friend and so badly wishing it was 65 degrees and sun still shining, I realized how quickly this month has passed. I know there's still a great distance between today and consistent pleasant spring/summer weather, but I'm so pleased that we've already made it soooo far through this winter.

February has had its own treasures, however.

The roomie found a diamond in the rough over in Humboldt Park. The past few Sunday nights a few friends and I have wandered west to Rumble Arts and put a great end to our weekends with a little class called "Drink and Draw". A little nervous week one, not having drawn anything since high school, having a live model was a bit intimidating. But this

class has become a welcome part of my weekend. And I'd like to think that Simeon, our slightly evasive Bulgarian instructor enjoys seeing our lovely faces each week we show up...not having a clue what we're doing, but doing it anyway.

This class is so great for a few reasons:

1. It's something so fun to look forward to on a Sunday night...an evening that's usually a little bittersweet and could be otherwise spent feeling depressed that t

omorrow is already Monday.

2. Drawing is something I would never otherwise do. This makes me look at things in a new way, and forces me to respond in a different way, using a different skill set than I usually do.

3. This is a fantastic way to support and BE a part of the community. We've met some wonderful people who contribute in one way or another to the Rumble Arts community...and it's by donation only.

I'd bet there's something down the street from your home too. I'd bet there's a class, a book club, an activity group that's calling your name. Maybe March will be a good time for you to get out and start something new? It feels good, I'm telling you.

In my own little corner

Like most little girls I grew up watching Cinderella. Not the cartoon Cinderella, rather the 1960's tv version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella. I loved it, I suppose my parents recorded it on VHS and it was stored alongside the numerous tapes of Full House in the two drawers on the large oak entertainment center in the living room.

I remember my Mom liked it too, and she'd sing along to the song Cinderella sings -- in my own little corner in my own little chair I can be whatever I want to be...

I guess it's kind of a sad part of the movie. But at the same time Cinderella is in her happy place where no matter how awful her stepsisters might be, she's in her own little world and happy there.

This winter in the midst of cold and snow, I've found my own little corner. Thanks to my uber-handy dad, I have a great little workspace in the back porch of our house. I like to spend time in there making unnecessary but very lovely things. Hanging up garland and lights, listening to music and writing.

This morning was a beautifully sunny and warm morning (actually got up to 56 degrees back there...that's an all time high) so I decided to sew a few things, to organize my big pile of fabric and take a few photos to share.
I guess when you think about it, it's a little silly that I spend my time in this tiny room that lacks heat...but there's just something about having a little space, a little corner, a little chair where you can retreat and call your own and create whatever it is you'd like to create.

Hope you enjoyed a sunny morning where you live too. The two feet of snow we had is slowly but surely melting into large puddles here in Chicago. And this is just the glimpse I need to know that Spring will indeed come again.