Five Frivolous Things

My posts can get a bit serious, I am inclined that way. However I do really value what is humorous, or light, or zany, or inconsequential. So I thought I would write about five things that are not serious at all. Ready for that?

One – I have a deep love for baskets. Wicker would be my favorite but plastic that looks like wicker is good too. I have them all over our house. I have spent time and money searching out just the right size of basket for a spot in our house. I have been quite successful. The part of me that longs for order and control in a crazy unpredictable life takes ridiculous pleasure in labelling my baskets, labelling lots of things actually.

Two – When I was in seminary, a very serious and analytical place that prepared me to become a minister, I was one of the founding members of a club that was totally frivolous, not serious, not consequential at all. We were the curly hair club. There were two of us that needed each others support and inspiration for dealing with the reality of naturally curly hair. While others roamed the halls pondering liberation theology, eschatology, Biblical languages and much more, we were pondering curl shape and definition, the impact of weather and what were the best products to use. We felt rebellious.

Three – I love gravy. I have been fortunate to receive teaching on how to make good gravy from a master, my mother in law. My first clue about my love of gravy was that I took to drinking KFC gravy as a teenager. I feel that I was on the cutting edge of Canadian cuisine because I ate poutine before almost all my friends and family. I attended a french course in Nova Scotia 31 years ago and there tasted this unique Acadian dish “poutine.” I loved it from the start. I think that gravy and I are meant to be together forever.

Four – I was so relieved when Gina was born and she was a girl. I was scared of boys. I only had one brother and he was 6 years older than me. I didn’t know alot about boys and especially country boys. When Jill was born I was thrilled, for several reasons but partly because I didn’t have to face my fears just yet. Deciding to have a third child was a decision. By the point of delivering that baby I was open to boy or girl, I don’t know what had shifted. Somehow I wasn’t afraid anymore. Morgan has been a gift. I didn’t need to be afraid. Okay I have this written and I think it suddenly is not so lighthearted. Shute. I can’t help myself, I swing serious. A lighthearted ending………..Morgan was the most unusual looking baby, Russell and I looked at each other and agreed, “he s kind’ve an ugly looking fella isn’t he?” Within months he was as beautiful as any baby could be.

Five – When I was in my early 20s I discovered Payless Shoes in the U.S.A. Every time I made a trip there I would scout out their size 11 section (non existant in Canada) and select flats in whatever colors I loved. As a result I had the most beautiful colored shoes and I would match my shoes to my dresses and outfits. I felt so swanky. I have become so boring, now nothing makes me happier than my brown or black knee high dress boots.

One more – because I haven’t mentioned the ranch and this is a ranch blog. I really love making cow tags. The chance to make them nice and neat and put cool and meaningful names on them just tickles my fancy.

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