An Evening With Dr. Dyer

Lindsey and I are both fans of Dr. Wayne Dyer--an inspirational (not motivational, as he is quick to emphasize) writer and speaker. We went to Seattle a couple of years ago and saw him in person, and when Lindsey heard that a movie was going to be showing at a theater in nearby Corvallis, she asked me if I wanted to go with her. I was able to get off of work an hour early yesterday, so I hustled myself down I-5 and made it to Albany just in time to say a quick hello to Morgan and for Lindsey to jump in the car with me. Then it was off to Corvallis. After we bought tickets and found seats, we found we were JUST in time: the movie began a few minutes later.

The movie ran for 2 and a half hours, and when it was over, Linds and I compared notes. She was expecting something different than a lecture (maybe more of a multi-media experience), but what we saw was somehow just what I had imagined: Dr Dyer talking about a new book that he is writing called Wishes Fulfilled, and lots of anecdotes from his personal and professional life illustrating the things I hear over and over from self-help authors: how necessary it is to our well-being to have an attitude of forgiveness and gratitude toward everything in one's life (whether we see it as "good" or "bad"), and the huge one about constantly checking our thoughts to make sure they are in alignment with what we want. That is the hardest lesson for me to learn--I find it is so easy to slip into old patterns of complaining and "poor me-ing," but when I really think about it, complaining has never made me feel any better. Ever. One thing that I've noticed recently (and that Dr. Dyer emphasized in his talk) is that if I take a situation that I don't like and try to put it in a positive light, I feel more peaceful. He said that attitude is always a choice and it is always ours--and boy, is he right. It's just a matter of changing my habitual reactions and thought patterns. As I write this, I am thinking, "Easier said than done," but it really is easy to think one way over another way. The question is, how willing am I to think differently and respond to people and events differently?

So for me, seeing Dr. Dyer gave me the encouragement I need right now--encouragement to keep working on my writing, and to practice envisioning the life I want right now instead of waiting for it to come to me--being happy now instead of expecting to be happy when I get everything I want. I have already been doing this to some extent, but last night I realized just how much I need it to be at the center of all of my thoughts and actions, all the time. I guess this realization is my resolution for 2010--and if I can really train myself in a new way of thinking and responding, if I am diligent about thinking with love about every person and every situation in my life, I wonder how my life will be different at the end of the year?

Welcoming Flynn

I posted a message on my Facebook profile last Friday saying that Michael and I were going to become foster parents that evening--to a very sweet dalmatian named Flynnigan. Well, we have now had Flynn with us for nearly a whole week and after an initial adjustment period, I think we are all settling into a routine. Flynn is deaf (a small percentage of dalmatians are born either deaf in one ear or completely deaf) and his vision isn't so good. Michael and I have learned to stop at curbs and steps, which seems to signal Flynn that there is to be a change in elevation. We keep him away from low-hanging branches and other obstacles that he might bump into when out on a walk. Michael has gotten into the habit of taking Flynn for a loooong walk when he gets home from work each day. They go over to the park near our house which has a great expanse of green lawn that Flynn can explore without danger of bumping into obstacles. Flynn gets tired out and spends most of the evening lying on his bed in our living room, resting. He doesn't bark much but instead "peeps" which is a word his mom has given to the combination of whining/whimpering that Flynn begins when he feels anxious. The first few days he was with us, he didn't peep much, but the last couple of days he has been doing it more. I think that part of the problem is that he misses his mom and realizes that she has been gone longer than just a day or two and also I think he peeps because he can't see or hear where we are in the house and he doesn't like to be alone.

I was worried about Chloe and Flynn meeting (the classic cat vs dog scenario), but I'm happy to report that Flynn doesn't want to eat her. :) Chloe, on the other hand, is unsure of him, although I think it's just because he is so much bigger than she is. I would like for them to become friends, but given the fact that Chloe has been around Michael for going on 9 years now and she still hisses at him and runs if he makes too sudden a movement, I don't think it's all that likely. For now, they are segregated: he has the run of the downstairs and she gets the upstairs. A baby gate separates them while Michael and I are at work. When we're home in the evening, we take the gate down and let Chloe venture downstairs, which she usually does, because she wants to see her mama. It's pretty funny (although I feel badly that Chloe is so afraid of him), to see Chloe hissing and spitting while Flynn walks nonchalantly past her, tail wagging, with a goofy grin on his face, totally oblivious of her--either that or he's just not affected by her one way or the other. Perhaps eventually Chloe will make an uneasy truce with Flynn--a truce that will allow her to be in his presence without running for cover. I tell her not to worry: it's only for a few months.

Michael and I, at least, welcome Flynn with open arms and open hearts. It's been a joy for me (who grew up with dogs in the family), to have a dog in my daily life again. And for Michael, I think it's been a pleasant surprise that not only are there sweet, well-behaved dogs in the world, but that he can live with one without his allergies going into overdrive.

So welcome, Flynn. We will enjoy you as much as we can these next few months.

Another update . . . at long last!

**I have been seriously remiss in keeping up this blog! This is a post I started in November but just got around to finishing. What makes it even funnier is that I was behind with my entries when I initially wrote it :) **

Well, everyone, it's been over 2 months since my last post. Since then, we have experienced (and are currently experiencing) some significant changes. The most important of these changes is that Michael and I both now have jobs. Most of you already know about this, but many of you probably don't know exactly what we are doing.
My job is working as a customer service rep for a company that is contracted with TriMet. TriMet, in turn, is contracted with the State of Oregon to provide medical transportation to people who carry either Medicaid insurance or a certain type of the Oregon Health Plan. It has been both challenging and deeply gratifying work--challenging in that I never know who is going to be on the other end of the line when I answer a call (and in what type of temperament they are in!), gratifying because I feel like I am truly helping people who need our service--and who often need extra patience and a willingness on my part to go the extra mile to help them. The job started out as a part-time postition, but a full-time position quickly became available, so I now work 9 hour days, Mon-Thurs, and 5 1/2 hours on Saturday with Fridays and Sundays off. I'm hoping that within a month or two I will be able to change my shift around a little in order to have Saturdays off, so that Michael and I will be able to have 2 days off in a row together--something that hasn't happened in years, since working as a massage therapist almost always means working weekends.

Michael's new job is with a company called Corbin Engineering. I am quite proud of the fact that the owners of the company came looking for him to offer him a position, instead of the other way around. :) One of the owners had worked with Michael a few years ago and knows the quality of his work. Apparently, he and his business partner knew they would soon need a designer on staff (now that businesses are beginning to build things again and they would be contracting for projects), and they thought of Michael and wondered if he was working again or was still unemployed. They talked it over and decided that they could find enough work to hire him now rather than wait until they are really busy and he is already working for someone else. So that is quite a compliment! He works Mon-Fri and is temporarily stationed at a company that designs chips for cell phones. The owners think that that particular project will last at least through the end of the year. Then, hopefully, there will be more projects in the works for Michael to be involved in.

One of the other big changes in our lives involves a huge landscaping project that Michael has more or less been forced to undertake. A few weeks ago, as he was in the process of running cables for his new pride and joy (his XBOX), he discovered that there is water under our house--and not just a little water. In fact, his guess is that there has always been standing water under our house during the rainy season. This, as homeowners, strikes fear in our hearts because where there is standing water, there is bound to be the potential for problems with dry rot and mold. So, Michael, brave soul that he is, has made considerable progress on preparing our back and side yards for installation of a "French drain." What this involves is basically digging a trench that runs along one side of the house, turns and goes under our deck (after many planks of the deck itself have been pulled up) and ends at the fence line at the other side of the house. What makes it even more backbreaking work is that our soil isn't really soil, but mostly clay. Add to that the gigantic rock that Michael uncovered directly in the path of his trench, and what is already a backbreaking job becomes truly miserable. Our friend John came over to help yesterday and the two boys slogged away, chiseling pieces of rock away with their shovels. This morning, 3 yards of gravel was delivered to our driveway. The gravel will go on top of the pipe in the trench and will act as a filter for all the rain yet to come this year. Michael worked all morning on the drain and was still working when I left to go to work at 1:30pm. All his hard work will pay off though, if it means no more standing water under our house. And once again, I am thankful that he has the knowledge and the skill to tackle these home repair projects.

We had a nice Thanksgiving on Thursday at my parents' home in Vancouver. We brought a mushroom and potato dish (something I could eat every day and not get sick of for at least a month), a fruit salad, and an Indian rice salad flavored with nutmeg and orange rind. We also brought some pear sparkling cider--yum! Mom and Dad provided ham, Mom's red Jell-o salad, and pumpkin pie. Needless to say, we all ate very well! We relaxed in front of the fire for a few hours and I scoped out the ads for the next day's shopping. I think the last time I got up early to go shopping the day after Thanksgiving was when I was in high school . . . mostly because I am SO not an early-riser. But this year, I really wanted to get some of the Amelia's organic cotton socks at Fred Meyer that I had tried earlier in the year and loved and I was willing to brave not only the early morning for them, but also the pushing and shoving that Black Friday is famous for. Michael decided that 5am was too early for his blood, so I braved it myself (but I left in time to arrive there just after the store opened, so I wouldn't have to wait outside) and was pleasantly surprised to find that people were generally very polite and conscious of the personal spaces of others. I got my socks, and a package for Michael, then decided to wander around and see what else might be on sale. I can definitely see how someone with a compulsive spending disorder could go hog wild crazy on Black Friday--there were 1/2 off signs everywhere I looked! I kept myself under control, however and even managed to bypass my biggest temptation: the 1/2 price boxes of Christmas lights. Although we have lights for our tree, we've never had them for the outside of our house and I've always admired the simple beauty of the white lights outlining other people's houses. But since we only recently got jobs again, I just couldn't bring myself to make the extra purchase. Maybe next year . . .

A Recap of Our Lives

I have been neglecting this blog lately (again!), and I guess I will have to blame Mafia Wars for most of it. Michael and I have both been playing this silly game on Facebook far too much--well, I think I have been playing it far too much. It's been keeping Michael occupied and providing him with some much-needed entertainment. :) When I do finally go back to work, Michael will probably take over for me and keep my mafia in tip-top fighting shape--something he does better anyway.

Some fun things have happened in our lives since last I wrote: Michael had his 36th birthday celebration with family and friends at our house, we visited Mt. St. Helens with our friends, John and Amy (and their kids, Connor and Kaiden), AND I got responses from not one, but TWO jobs that I applied for.

We had Michael's party on August 30 (a week after his actual birthday), and our house was full to the brim with people wishing him well. Both sets of our parents came, his sister and her family, and our friends John and Amy and their kids. It doesn't sound like too many, but it made for a full house! We had a potluck-themed birthday, and the spread was unbelievable. My dad made his very famous macaroni salad, Amy brought a bean salad that was incredible, Michael's sister Christy brought a yummy fruit salad and his folks brought the meat for the BBQ: steaks and chicken--and hot dogs for the kids. Michael was SO happy about his steak. He kept ohhhing and ahhhing beside me as he ate it. My contribution was sauteed zucchini and yellow squash (from the farm down the road) and Michael's birthday cake.

I had never made a cake from scratch before and when I asked Michael what kind of cake he wanted for his birthday, he said "white cake with lemon filling." So I did a search on the Internet and found a Martha Stewart cake recipe that looked pretty good. It was complicated (a challenge for sure, requiring an ice water bath, straining lemon curd through a colander, and separating the yolks and whites of 8 eggs), but it was actually really fun. I started the cake at about 11 a.m. on Saturday, and I finished frosting it (with homemade cream cheese frosting, mind you, that called for an ENTIRE bag of powdered sugar!) at about 11 p.m. that night. But let me tell you, I had an extreme sense of accomplishment after finishing that cake. I did a taste test of the lemon curd halfway through and it was surprisingly good (with a name like 'curd,' my hopes weren't too high. It reminded me of Little Miss Muffet's curds and whey . . . and I've never been too fond of lemon either); it was SO good, in fact, that I was wishing there was more lemon curd than the thin little ribbon running between the two layers of cake.

Michael collected some fun birthday cards, a balloon proclaiming him to be a "Rock Star," birthday money and the show-stopping gift of a popcorn popper. Ever since having movie nights with John and Amy and munching on their air-popped popcorn, he has been craving it at home too. Now he can have it whenever the mood strikes!

Last weekend, September 6, John and Amy invited us to join them on a family day-trip to Mt. St. Helens. I had been one time as a little girl, but didn't remember it, and Michael hadn't been since he was in his early teens. Both of us had a really good time checking out the visitor centers and reading about the eruption in May of 1980. Amy and I agreed that the weather suited the subject at hand: it was gray and stormy and rained pretty hard on us about lunch time, spoiling all hope of a picnic lunch outside. It wasn't hard to imagine the day when the mountain sent ash spewing for hundreds of miles and turned the day into night. We all decided that we'd need to make the trip again, though, on a sunnier day when we could get a good look at Mt. St. Helens, because all we saw was her base--or what we assumed to be her base.

And finally . . . yes, it very well may be that I will be returning to work on a full-time basis shortly. It's been 6 months now (!) since I have worked regularly and the job prospect has been pretty bleak for both Michael and me. I did get a phone call on Labor Day, however, and an interview the next day. The job would be a customer service representative position with a medical transport company. Seniors and people with disabilities call and schedule transportation to and from doctor's appointments, and I would be one of the people taking their calls. I got to have a tour of the call center and even listen in on 3 or 4 calls to get an idea of the job. It seems like I would enjoy it--I've been wanting to find a niche where I could continue to work for others, and this would be quite rewarding, I think. So cross your fingers, everyone, as I'm hoping to hear back soon . . . one of the best things about the job is that I would once again have health insurance--finally!

One more thing to note . . . last night I had a training with a volunteer group in the Portland area called "No One Dies Alone." I had first read about this program in an Oprah magazine a year or so ago, and then my mom alerted me to a similar article in The Oregonian last June that said there was a need for volunteers. I feel a strong pull to doing this kind of work--sitting with people who are very close to death (within 24-48 hours), and who for whatever reason, do not have family or friends to be with them during their transition. After last night's training, I am excited and scared at the same time. I think it will be a sacred experience, witnessing this extremely personal part of someone's life, but at the same time, I hope I will be strong enough. We shall see, we shall see.

Socks To Make Me Happy

I love socks--fun, funky, colorful socks. While I have always worn socks, when I was growing up they were often plain white or black or blue. I just don't think there were that many to choose from back them. My love affair with socks began in earnest during the years that Lindsey and I volunteered at the Salem Art Fair and Festival . . . it was Lindsey's idea that we wear "art fair socks." And by that she meant wacky, zany socks that had at least one of the colors featured on that year's art fair t-shirt. Sometimes they were striped, or had flowers or some strange pattern, but they were always eye-catching. And fun. It always lifted my spirits to wear them and for the rest of the 361 days of the year that we were not involved in art fair activities, I would get dressed each morning and pull out my colorful socks with a smile on my face.

Our days of volunteering at the art fair are over (at least for now), and yet I still find myself drawn to crazy socks. When I am doing massage, I often wear black (for some reason, it's the unspoken professional attire among LMTs, scrubs notwithstanding) and my favorite thing to do is pair a black top with black pants and then add my socks of many colors. I am professional, yet fun. :)

I recently had to throw out my favorite pair of socks (the hippie-type ones with big flowers on them) because of the huge holes that developed in the heels--that was one of the only times I can think of when I wished my grandma had taught me to darn socks. I wanted to replace them, but hadn't yet found the "right" pair. Then my birthday rolled around and I got some money tucked inside a birthday card from one of my grandmas. Then I happened to be shopping with my mom at a hospital gift shop and found the perfect pair of socks. They were pricey, but hey, they were to be a birthday present . . . thanks, Grandma!

The socks come in a package of three (in case the dryer eats one) and are intentionally mismatched. That's right, they are not mirror images of each other, like "regular" socks. There are 4 types of these "Little MissMatched" socks that you can buy, depending on just how zany you want to get. The ones I liked are the "Marvelous" brand." This means that the colors of the socks are next to each other on the color wheel . . . slightly zany, but not absolutely kooky. "Fabulous" socks boast different shades of the same color while "Kooky" socks have colors that are opposite each other on the color wheel. Finally, "Zany" socks have every color on the color wheel--for the truly adventurous. :)

Here's the website, if you'd like to check them out for yourself: www.littlemissmatched.com

And next time you're feeling blue, rummage through your sock drawer and pull on a pair of good times with some "fun" socks. You'll feel better . . . I promise.

Our Weekend in The Dalles: Old Cars, Good Food and Family

Michael and I had a very busy three-day weekend in The Dalles that started last Friday and ended late Sunday night. The annual Hoffman Family Reunion was planned for the second Sunday in August, so we knew we'd be heading to The Dalles to attend--especially since we didn't go last year. Michael's parents invited us to come up early so that we could go to "Neon Nights," which is a parade of old cars and trucks, all in various stages of restoration, up and down the main streets of downtown The Dalles. The four of us had a front row seat for the festivities: we grabbed dinner at the new Taco Del Mar and sat at a table outside, munching burritos and watching the cars roll by. Michael's favorite car at the cruise-in was a 1969 Dodge Charger (made popular by a couple of rowdy cousins from Hazzard County). The one he liked most at the regular car show the next day was a Chevy Nova . . . he doesn't know what year it is, and doesn't care for the robin's egg blue color, but hey, if someone offered it to him, I don't think he'd say no. His dad (Ted) had an eye for a 1957 Thunderbird and a 1955 Ford hardtop . . . a huge car that was like one he owned as a kid. I fell in love with an old (40-something) Chevy that had beautiful curves and a striking silvery-gray paint job. The turquoise Volkswagen bug was also very nice. :) Michael doesn't think his mom had a favorite in the cruise-in, but she did own a 1965 Mustang Coupe back in the day. We watched the cars rumble down the street, revving their engines and peeling out for the spectators. Not a bad way to spend a Friday night . . .

The next day Michael and his dad worked on fixing the roof of a chicken coop for a customer while his mom and I checked out the little farmer's market in the city park. When I lived in The Dalles in the late '80's and early '90's, if you wanted to go to a farmer's market, your only option was Gresham. I'm happy to report that my little hometown has come into the modern era and now you can find fresh vegetables, fruits and flowers at the market every Saturday until 1pm. Donna (Michael's mom) even bought us a pint of some pure, raw snowberry honey from a farm in nearby Mosier.

We also visited the labyrinth up at Mid-Columbia Medical Center. I have wanted to walk a labyrinth for several months now but just haven't made it to any of the ones in the Portland area. My mom told me about the one at the hospital in The Dalles--apparently it has been there for a number of years. Mom said she should have gone and checked it out back when she was still working there. I told Donna that I really wanted to drive up and "walk it"and she went with me, not really knowing what it was all about. I was amazed at the beauty of the design and of the craftsmanship of the labyrinth. It looked like two kinds of granite was used. There was a stone marker near the entrance to the labyrinth that explained that it was a replica of the one at Chartres Cathedral in France. During the Middle Ages it was used by people who could not afford a pilgrimage to the Holy Land--in this way, they could still make the journey. The sign at the labyrinth in The Dalles invited people to enter with a clear mind. For me, walking the labyrinth is a powerful reminder of the journey that is my life. Just when I think I am reaching a "goal" or a milestone, my life changes and I keep walking--and learning. C'est la vie. :)

Michael's sister, Christy and her daughter, Jessica joined us Saturday night. Jessica loved watching Charlie (of course we brought him with us!!) and talking to him. By the time we went home on Sunday, she had already asked her mom if they could get a bird too. I found out that Jessica really likes looking at pictures. We looked at all of the ones on display in the living room and then Donna got out baby albums and we had fun looking at pictures of Jessica and her brother Ryan and remembering when they were both so much smaller.

Sunday morning was a bit hectic as Donna, Christy and I each prepared salads to take to the reunion. We were busy chopping and mixing and swapping out bowls. At one point I joked that it felt like we were in a cook-off! The guys had gone ahead to Sorosis Park to scope out some picnic tables and greet the first arrivals for the reunion.

It was a smaller gathering than it has been in the past, but it was fun nonetheless. The kids (both big and small) played horseshoes and everyone caught up on everyone else's lives and goings-on. Pictures were taken and hugs were given. Oh and food was eaten! There was such a smorgasbord of food--pasta and vegetable salads, baked bean casserole, sub sandwiches, the obligatory buckets of KFC, coleslaw, and desserts. Many people were chuckling over one of the cakes because the recipe called for a can of pork and beans. I didn't try the cake in question (I could not keep my hands off of Donna's zucchini bundt cake with cream cheese frosting!), but I thought it was an interesting notion. My other thought was just how bored does one have to be before experimenting with pork and beans in a cake recipe? :) Those crazy Hoffmans!

At the end of the day, Michael and I loaded Charlie's cage in the car and headed off into the sunset. We talked all the way home: about the people we'd seen, about the food we'd eaten and about our lives together. We'll see you next year, same time, same place, second Sunday in August.

Michael's cousin, Melissa, his sister, Christy, Michael and his cousin Tim at Sorosis Park.

Lemon Blueberry Buckle

Some of you know that I am a beginning cook. I'm here to tell you now that I am even more of a beginning baker. The beautiful KitchenAid mixer that my parents got me for Christmas (3 years ago?), has only recently begun to see some use--likewise the Silpat that my friend Lindsey persuaded me to buy at a cooking gadget party. She said it would be great for making cookies and that I could use it for baking many other things as well. My expertise thus far has been limited to the occasional batch of cookies or cupcakes and every so often a cake from a mix. One of the good things about having so much time on my hands is that I have time to try baking . . . and not from a mix. No my friends, baking from scratch, the real deal. If you read one of my previous posts, you saw a batch of the blueberry scones I made a few weeks ago. Spurred on by that success and by having an excess of blueberries from the day I went picking with my friend Amy, I decided to try something infinitely harder (or at least the recipe seemed much more complicated than the scone recipe): a lemon blueberry buckle.

The recipe came from a book (Rustic Fruit Desserts) that my mom saw advertised at a New Seasons store near my house. She asked me to get a copy for her and when I went to pick it up, I couldn't help but thumb through its heavenly pages, drooling. When I saw the recipe for the lemon blueberry buckle, I knew I had to try it. It was broken down into 3 separate sections: a recipe for making the crumble topping, a recipe for the cake itself, and a recipe for making the glaze . . . this last only required 2 ingredients, but it said that the finished product needed to pour like a syrup and that made me nervous. It sounded temperamental, this glaze.

The next time Michael and I went to the grocery store, I picked up the few ingredients I needed: a couple of lemons, some nutmeg, buttermilk and more sugar. I was ready to make the buckle; the problem was that we were in the middle of a heat wave and (being as the only air conditioning in our house is in our bedroom) there was no way I wanted to turn my oven to the required 350 degrees. I decided to wait a couple of days until my parents came over to drop off Charlie at our house before leaving on their vacation. I reasoned that the temperature might be a little cooler by then, and there would be the added bonus of showing off (I mean sharing) my masterpiece with my parents. :)

The day of the great buckle-making adventure arrived. I lined up all of the ingredients I would need on the counter, tied an apron around my waist and set to work. I remembered a friend telling me once, a long time ago, that the secret to baking was simply to "clean as you go." Okay, I thought, I'll do it, and I'll have a spotless kitchen by the time I'm through baking this wonderful dessert. I was definitely feeling my inner Martha Stewart. :) Long story short, the kitchen didn't exactly look clean by the time I was finished, several sweaty hours later--alas, the heat wave was not quite over. The buckle was in the oven, but the pan wasn't the right size and every time I checked to see if it was finished, the center still wasn't cooked through. Not to mention, the lemon glaze I was stirring refused to thicken to the consistency of syrup. The two events needed to be timed perfectly, because the syrup was supposed to be poured over the cake as soon as it came out of the oven. Eventually, my glaze took on the aroma of charred lemon, and I was pretty sure that last bit of the instructions, the glaze coup de grace was not going to happen.

The good news is that the finished product did look pretty darn good--and it tasted even better! We all got to sample it and marvel at the crunchy topping combined with the soft, crumbly cake, blueberries bursting in every mouthful. As I enjoyed it, the only sad thought I had was just how little time it was going to take to eat this lovely buckle, compared to the amount of work that had gone into it. I felt almost exactly like one of those cliched 50's housewives wiping a flour-dusted hand across a sweaty brow . . . "I slaved all day to make this dessert and now I still have all of these dishes to do." *sigh*

Next time, this 21st century housewife is going to enlist the help of anyone else in her household who might want to eat whatever mouth-watering dessert is on the menu--if not as sous chef, then at least as official dishwasher extraordinaire. :)