Liver, Onions, Spinach, and Thanks

2.5 inches. Looking back, you may wonder what made the difference and led you to where you are. For us, it was 2.5 inches.

We planned a non-traditional Thanksgiving this year. 2020 has had a few curves and even a knuckleball or two. So we decided to limit the preparation time and have a meal of steak, baked potatoes, and a nice salad. It would be no great fuss for anybody involved. Then our plans were altered. One of our party of four became symptomatic for a virus that has become widespread, if not popular.

Since our fourth for an afternoon of bridge was temporarily out of commission and we agreed that mingling would be a poor notion, we found ourselves on the hook for our own meal planning. We still didn’t want to do the turkey or ham thing. Way too much bother when we wanted to focus on thankfulness. But what to do? We had no good ideas, then we discovered a gap in the freezer door of the downstairs refrigerator. If you think it was about a 2.5-inch gap, you’re already a step ahead of me.

Stuff that should be stiff had become squishy. This led to a post-breakfast meal of shrimp yesterday, because why not? It was toss it or eat it and half of our household has a horrible aversion to food waste. That aversion caused Steckler’s Grass-fed Beef Liver to become the centerpiece of our plates today. I cried. Not from happiness. It was because my wife made me slice a very large, pungent onion to cook with the liver. Some thawing spinach found its way onto the menu and we rounded it out with instant brown rice and mixed olives.

Success. We eschewed tradition in a big way. Our only concession was using the good plates because my Mrs. wanted to take a photo of the meal before we began. 

Do I like liver and onions? Not a bunch. Do I like olives? Not much more than I care for liver and onions. Do I like spinach? Ah. You’ve found me out. Swimming in apple cider vinegar, given my choice. But today it was sort of plopped onto the plate and we called it a day. 

Despite the menu comprising foods that foster ambivalence, I admit I enjoyed it. So much so that I wiped up all the bits with a well-buttered slice of sourdough bread. And I genuinely am thankful for a gap in the seal of the freezer door. A 2.5-inch column of invading air brought us surprise, creativity, relaxed preparation, quick cleanup, and a story worth sharing with our friends.

May all your mishaps be as rewarding.

November Stars

Our ears are filled by the noisy ones, our vision consumed by brightness.

During the day the sun holds sway and we rarely hear the quietness.

But when our sun moves away, other worlds' suns draw patterns in our skies.

The din subsides, we now hear peace. We see truth with our eyes.

Nothing has changed. These stars were all there when we all were blinded by light.

To see it all, embrace the chill. Step into a November night.

The Moment

Do you have trouble being in the moment, too? Most daily events for me are chores that fall along a timeline. First, this. Next, that. Even as I’m doing one thing, my head is into the next item to be completed and struck from the list. This is even true when I’m supposed to be relaxing. How did I ever learn to do this “in the moment” stuff so incorrectly?

We have a dog. A puppy. One blessing of owning a dog (which may be the opposite of the truth) is that its human must occasionally take it beyond the threshold of the home. It prevents cleanups, the pet appreciates it, and the change of air is probably beneficial. We’ve only had our dog since late Spring, so check back. I may feel differently mid-Winter. But, we were talking about the moment.

Our dog IJ and I were outside early one morning. She was sniffing things, digging in the flower beds (bad dog), and turning a stick blown from a large maple tree into kindling. I was sitting on a nearby step mulling over the day. You know, thinking ahead.

I suspect we were outside fifteen minutes or more when I realized it was getting lighter. Birds were either chirping or giving voice to song. The leaves on our large tree were rustled by the wind. There was a ballet in the yard with dancers dressed in golden costumes romping and cavorting in the breeze. I’m not sure cavorting is even legal in this state. 

A Different Tree, but How About that Color!?

I stood and looked to the west as a brilliant sunrise crested the horizon and created a blaze of color in the tops of distant trees. I admired the beauty and continued listening. 

Automobile doors clunked closed and engines ground into life as neighbors left home to deliver children to school or to go to work. And still the wind stirred the leaves into a lulling sound, a Midwestern version of surf. 

IJ startled, then bounded into action as she chased first one leaf then another across the yard. How can a body go from inactive to frenetic so quickly? I left the moment with the realization that I’ve been missing awareness like this. 

I have friends who regularly travel to state or national parks to hike. I suspect they are thoughtfully positioning themselves to “be”. 

I want to learn to slip into this mindset more easily and more often. When I’m alone. When I’m with family and friends. When I’m in conversation. I want to intentionally let go of the handlebars of my life and be guided and carried by something or Someone with a much larger perspective. I know Who and What that is for me. I wish it for you as well.