small post

A few days ago I related to a friend that I was excited to start canning peaches. She kind of looked at me funny and said "How long have you been canning?". I told her last season was my first and she smiled. Now I know why....

1. It gets old fast.
2. You become a slave to your produce. Since veggies and fruits are oh-so- perishable,it becomes necessary to put everything else on hold to deal with them.
3. While your dealing with fruits and veggies, the rest of your house(and life) falls to the wayside. You wake up at the end of the day from a steam induced fog and realize that your house, laundry and dishes are dirty. bummer.

Having said all that, I wouldn't change a thing. The payoff comes later, I know. But for now, don't expect much of me. And if you come over to visit, kindly pretend you don't notice the mess.
grins,
-E

summer dialogue

Peas hang abundantly like clusters of grapes on the vine. Our cat Aphrodite becomes "Mighty Huntress". She lurks in the green of the garden, imagining herself to be pleasantly dangerous. Bean,the kitten, pounces on her. She cuffs him angrily, her cover blown.

Hummingbirds congregate at the back porch feeder- the animal kingdom's water cooler. Grr, our largest cat, chitters with anxious desire. He longs to catch them.

I grow tired of the kitchen. The cooking, the dishes, the counters, the floors- all of it. So I take Dante' and Maxwell camping.

Forty-five minutes to freedom. Our campsite is spacious, the largest I have seen. Three tents or more could fill the open spaces. But we don't need a tent today. We are staying in the yurt. It has three beds, two tables, chairs, a lamp and a heater. Very luxurious camping indeed.

I feel better at once. All the best sights, sounds, tastes, and smells are here. The vibrant crackling of campfires, the laughter of children, the chirping of birds in the massive evergreens that loom above our personal haven.

A quick, black crow announces our arrival. Be careful, I tell the children. They will eat everything you turn your back on. That night we lick the remains of burnt marshmallow from our sticky fingers. Maxwell and Dante' are impossibly beautiful by firelight.

We fall asleep beneath the canopy view of the yurt's dome. The last sound I hear is the low droning of grown-ups who talk carefully around the campfire while their children sleep.

Confessions of a Face Book Junkie

My posts to this blog have been more and more infrequent lately. Some friends turned me onto Face Book and it has been occupying way too much of my time.

Call it and addiction, call it what you want- I think for me it just became a "reality avoidance" hobby, LOL :)

Another factor has been the flakiness of my camera.

To combat my writer's block and laziness, I am publicly vowing to post to Eating Oregon every day for a week. Now that I have said it, it will have to be done.

Wish me luck,
-E

I'm back finally!

Yes, I know I've been a bit of a sluggard lately. No posts, no pictures.

Lately I have been entertaining a bit of ennui and malaise all rolled into one lovely package. But enough of that. Writing is my place of peace and self expression, and it's good to be back.

Stay tuned for a deluge of mini-posts.

hugs,
Ellen

Goaty Bliss

Maxwell wants to pet "Sheriff", who is orbiting his mother like a tiny, furry planet. She noses him indulgently, then turns back to her grain. As soon as Max gives up chase, Sheriff goes looking for him.

Feisty little Scarlett is happy to play with the humans, much to the chagrin of her mother. "Baa! Baa!", Robin calls her back. A tail wiggle, a pounce, and Scarlett is gone again.

Soon both babies are nursing their mamas. A deer watches this mixed-species gathering from the hill above. We notice her, she notices us and bounds into the treeline.

The Mamas are brought together to visit. Although grown mothers now, they butt heads like the doelings they once were. Their babies imitate their headstrong play. We laugh.

It is a great moment. One worth holding onto. :)

-Ellen

Rogue peacock on the loose

Just a quick note tonight as I am super tired, but this story just HAS to be told.

Yesterday Dante' and went to see longtime friend Shirley. Shirley lives a mile or so up a slough. It's a gorgeous country setting.

On the way home, we took a side road just to sight-see and enjoy the day. 8 minutes later I find myself saying "Omigosh, a peacock!". There it was, in the middle of absolute nowhere, reclining laconically on the side of the road.

We stopped, we gawked. "It's hurt," said Dante. After a little debate we decided she could knock on the door of the only house close by and see if it was someone's pet.

Did I mention this bird was beautiful and completely decked out in the finest peacocky glory? The tail dragged at least 5 feet behind it.

So a creepy old man answered the door and informed Dante' the peacock, a peahen, and a cat had been abandoned by a family that had moved away. The peahen is missing, he shot and killed the cat (his words), and he shot the peacock in the leg and didn't know why it was still alive.

Dante' hustled back to the car mouthing "let's go now!". We left and went to animal control who took down the address and promised to go talk to the crazy old man the next day.

Before we gunned out of our own version of "Deliverance", Dante' got a small pic of the bird with her cell phone.

head shaking,
-E

You just can't make this stuff up

Here is a play-by-play of a typical day in our life. It really should be titled, "The Good , The Bad , and The Ugly, (with yours truly playing the part of ugly) but that has already been taken. Read on. You'll laugh, you'll cry, it will become a part of you. Grinning- Ellen.





AM- * emptied the rabbit cages, lined the bottoms with newspaper, and filled both food and water containers. Shoot! We forgot to get more straw for bedding. It will have to be gotten today.

* Fed the dog and the cats. Rex generally fulfills most of his caloric requirements eating the neighbor's cat food. Aphrodite eats the dog's food. What's up with that?

* Friends come over to knit, crochet and talk. We exchange patterns, ideas and life stories.

PM* Dante', Max, Rex and friends pile into the van. We go to the community garden to tend
our plot. Surprise! Over the weekend potatoes have come up. We are jubilant. The
peas, radishes and green onions are tall. What ever happened to the beans, we
wonder? Organic slug repellent is sprinkled, stray calendula from last year's garden is
ruthlessly yanked.

* Rex ate a chocolate Easter bunny we didn't watch carefully in the car. We panic and
take him to the vet. She smiles and says he will be fine as he didn't eat enough to
make him sick.

* Next we head for the stable where we board our horse. The dog
comes along and usually causes trouble by trying to chase a horse. Max searches out
puddles and gets soaked-again.

* The goats need more grain and the girls want to see the cute guy at Milk-E-Way feed
and seed. So we drive 12 miles and buy the grain. The cute guy isn't there today,
which leaves the girls feeling rather deflated.

* We grab sandwiches and sodas at the McKay's. Full bellies make for good spirits.

* At Melissa's house we drop off the goat grain. Our pregnant girls are really fattening
up. Dante' takes some of the goats straw home for the rabbits.

* Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. We drop off Dante's friends and go back to our
house. The dog goes into his kennel, Max goes into the bathtub, and I go into the
kitchen to clean up and start dinner.

* Our cat, Aphrodite has brought a mouse inside. It promptly gets away from her and
is lost somewhere in the living room. Is that it? Did I see it? Paxson moves
furniture, Dante' shrieks, and Aphrodite grows bored. She leaves without retrieving
her prize. This would never have happened in her younger days. I realize she is
beginning to grow old.

* Phil comes home, dinner is over, we all scatter to the far ends of the house. William
helps with dishes. I fold laundry. Phil is working on taxes.

* Bedtime ritual for Max: Brush teeth, wash face, hands and feet. Read a bedtime
story before prayers. I steal a few moments of computer time before doing it all
over again.
Believe it or not, today was relatively quiet.(minus the dog drama) That is our life. It sounds crazy sometimes but it's real. You just can't make this stuff up.

Goodnight and God Bless,
Ellen

ps- I still don't know where the mouse is.

At War With Time

I am now the age my mother was when I first thought she was getting old. hmm, that's kinda funny. Now that it's my turn, 40 doesn't seem so old. But I notice things changing. Little things here and there that aren't much their own, but add up to a lot when I think about them.

My oldest son is nearly 18, graduating , and already working. My daughter is 14 and looking more like a woman every day. She used to be the baby.

Max, the baby of the family, isn't really a baby anymore. He will turn 4 next month. Realizing he is the last child is both exhilarating and agonizing.

Looking in the mirror is an interesting experience. Who is that person? I am quite sure it isn't me. After all, I've never had grey hair, two chins and wrinkles. It must be someone else.

Just to make sure I went to my closet and pulled out photographs from 1992. Guess what? No wrinkles, only one chin, no grey hair, and lovely skin. Whew! For a moment there I thought I was getting old. *grin*

When I was younger I never paid any thought or attention to old people. They all looked the same to me. White hair and skin, yellow teeth, outdated clothing. Why didn't they care, I wondered? Didn't they know that polyester was out of style? Didn't they know that hairstyle went out of fashion 20 years ago? And why did they smell funny all the time?

Now I know better. The elderly are wise. Too wise to bow to the dictates of fashion magazines. Too wise to spend an hour in the bathroom fussing over a hairdo.

I feel nostalgic every so often when contemplating an elderly person. I wonder about their life. I wonder if they think about the days when they could run and play. Or if they miss looking in the mirror and seeing a smoother, less wrinkled face. Or maybe they miss their mom, dad, or spouse. Do they long for that feeling of excitement you can only get when you fall in love for the fist time?

Now I've said all this to say that we should respect our elderly a lot better in this country. And remember that every one of them used to possess youth and vitality. In trade, they have gained knowledge . If we will only stop and listen, we could learn a lot.

I still don't know why there is an old lady in my bathroom mirror. But she seems nice. I think I'll let her stay a while.
-E

"The Express"

It isn't often I would call a movie AMAZING and almost unheard for someone to make enough of an impression for me to consider them a hero. This film, about African-American football legend Ernie Davis, achieves both.

It would have been so easy for filmmakers to reduce the story into hollywood cliche'. Given the historical backdrop of the racially tense 40's-50's, I expected a heavy-handed whack on the head with a morality stick. Then next up would be the overly-dramatic, nail biting football scenes. You know the ones, where everything runs in slo-mo and the ball ALWAYS clears the goal as the timer hits zero. But no, none of that. Not at all.

I knew the movie was going to be good when Ernie Davis, regarding Jackie Robinson commented "Look at him accomplishing so much and not saying a thing about it." How different things would have been today. Very few people, especially the famous ones, make accomplishments without saying a lot.

In fact, many celebrities who have accomplished nothing feel as though they are entitled to spout off about any little detail that enters their minds.

So here's what "The Express" was really about: Honesty, Integrity, diligence, hard work, bravery, humility, self-control, ethics, and denial of self-gratification. The latter being a concept nearly extinct in modern society.

Ernie Davis was a hero. A gentleman, a silent warrior, and a true American. And he died. At just 23 years of age, Ernie was gone. Maybe he was just too good for this place.

-EJ

LIfe in the Fishbowl

When Phil and I first got married, we talked about wanting to honor God with our lives and our marriage. We had no idea at the time what that would ultimately look like, but we were open to whatever the Lord set before us.

At the time, Phil was selling advertising, teaching guitar, and serving as worship leader at our church. God soon led him back into full-time ministry and I suddenly found myself to be a pastor's wife.

It was scary. Really scary. We were basically jumping off a cliff trusting the Lord to catch us. Phil had schooling in the ministry, was well versed in his bible and was ready to step into the role of Pastor. I was still a relatively new christian and had a lot of spiritual "Growing up" to do. So I worried.

What if folks didn't like the way I dressed or spoke? Normally I wouldn't care , but when your profession reflects on the Heavenly Father, you tend to take the little stuff seriously. What if I couldn't fulfill the duties of Pastor's Wife properly, and what are the duties of a Pastor's Wife anyway?????

So the first three years have gone by, and it has been a wonderful experience. Our church is like family. The people are great. But there are downsides. And today, for some reason, I am really feeling down.

For starters, your always being watched. How you walk, act, talk, dress-everything. Your children are always being watched. Yeesh, this one is a hard one. Phil and I have a large, blended family of 5 kids. My two, especially the oldest, responded to having a pastor for a step-dad the only way teenagers can: Sheer Rebellion. Sometimes I felt we came to church to provide the "Don't let your kids turn out like ours" example.

Then there is the pressure to be whatever your expected to be. I've been told many times that I don't have to feel that way and that no one has expectations. Not True. Deep down inside people want a neat, pretty, dressed-up representation. It's easier to deal with. I understand that. But I can't do it. The husband and kids come first and there are only so many hours in a day.

Next, the blunt appraisals. My husband and I have fielded complaints about what bible we use to teach from, what materials we use to teach youth group, what kind of music we play in church, whether or not I show up for every single service, even where the children and I sit during services. And how loud we do or don't sing, and whether or not we sing emphatically enough. And that is the short list.

Also difficult is learning how much of myself to share with church friends. Again, most people like a certain image of their leadership. Too much information spoils things. I've made the mistake of telling church girlfriends too much about my personal life. Then later on it becomes the subject of gossip. Or a church friend may make a big point of befriending you, making you a fixture in their life and working to gain your trust, and then they just blow out of your life without so much as a backward glance.

Not surprisingly, ministry has a high burn-out rate. Nevertheless, God has been so good. Every Sunday I get to go and fellowship with a fantastic group of people. And I love them all. I realized that I just can't imagine not doing what we do. I don't want to do anything else. At least not until God finds something else for us to do.

And I still have a lot of growing up to do. God has a history of picking unlikely people to do His work. But he also helps them to accomplish all tasks for His Glory and His Honor. Praise the Lord for that.

Time for bed. Tomorrow I get to go praise God with a roomful of His people. How cool is that?

-EJ

Rex

Where the Red Fern Grows, Old Yeller- classic boy and dog movies. What's sweeter and more American than a boy and his dog? What is my point? My point is that the woman whose family owns 2 cats, 3 rabbits, 2 goats and a horse is trying to justify having gotten Maxwell a dog.

In my defense, Phil started it.................................................................................. Okay, now calm down. The good news is that he (the dog) was saved from the local shelter. And is remarkably calm. No peeing or pooping on the floor, no biting or chewing, no barking. He is just the sweetest little guy. And I am an avowed dog-hater!

So here is the first pic of Maxwell and his dog, Rex.

Lost Christmas pics

Christmas day, Phil and I took Max and Dante' up into the mountains a bit to play in the snow. The teenage boys didn't want to come (big surprise) in case your wondering why they rarely turn up in our pictures.

I grabbed the camera for some prime photo opportunities. Or so I thought. Every time I tried to take a pic, nothing happened. We fiddled with the camera, tried warming it up- all to no avail. Or so we thought.

We were so bummed out about not having these pics. But yesterday I went to upload some photos and there they were.

As pictures go, these are hardly incredible. But they document a really fun day.

-EJ

Pictorial Update

What better way to celebrate the holidays than by dressing up your cat? See the festive glittery accents of this stunning scarf? A 'must have accessory' for any cat. Note his look of thinly disguised glee.



















Max plays blocks with Dante'. She's taking it rather well, I think.

Eating Cookies............

........by the Christmas tree, in the warm glow of the fireplace. Max is playing, Dante' is crocheting, I am holding my husband's hand. The older boys are playing video games downstairs and the house is quiet, peaceful.

For now we are happy, healthy, well-fed and free. We are blessed by God and will not take even the small things for granted. Wishing your family the same.

gratefully,
Ellen

The latest

Whats new at our house? Crocheting. It seems everyone is jumping on the bandwagon. My oldest son, Richard , has now started and has surpassed us all. Just today he was giving instructions to an experienced crafter and he has only been doing this for a week! Sigh, it took Dante' and I awhile to get comfortable with the whole thing and then someone else comes along and makes it look easy.

Given the rough economy we are all about having a homemade Christmas. So everyone has been busy knitting scarves , hats, and fingerless gloves. Somewhere there is a repository for displaced glove "fingers". I'm sure it is located next to the bureau of unmatched socks.

On any given day you can find Dante, Richard, or myself hunched over a crochet needle, muttering. We go to stores and ogle all the expensive, soft yarns.

The pics here are not very good. My camera is 3/4 broken. In short, clinging to life by a thread. But you get the basic idea. The little book pictured is a simple project sewed for Max for Christmas.

Last night we went to a choir concert at shoreacres to hear William sing. He did very well and it was a beautiful night.

This afternoon we (Ok, "I") caved and cut into the fruitcake. It was tasty enough for me to eat way too much and feel chagrined.

Tonight we did the tree, but that will be a separate post. All is well at home and we are Grateful to God for His provision.
Peace,
-EJ

George Maxwell Jeffery

Maxwell has three older brothers and one older sister at home. All of them teenagers. This has afforded him a decided edge in language development. Paxson and I have always loved the fine art of "word-smithing", and it appears Max will be no exception. Even still, this little boy has the ability to completely stun me. Not with his big, multi-syllable words. Not with his intellectual concepts. But with the beautiful , simple expression of a three year old.

Last week, Max brought me to near tears by proclaiming "I'm really enjoying growing up." Wow. That is the first time I have ever been told that. It was the nicest thing I've ever heard.

Just this evening, as we walked from the van to the house, Maxwell's little voice from behind me offered "This is a nice place to grow up." Stunned again.

I am generously told "I love you" and even "your beautiful" by my little one on a regular basis. Then he directs me to keep quiet about it. "It's just our little secret" he tells me. Fine with me.

So, if you wouldn't mind, please don't tell anyone. Its just our little secret.
grins,
-EJ

Return of the Red Lipstick!

No one is Immune......................................................















And I mean No one......................................................................

Why I love my pets as explained by way of sleepless verbal meandering.

I'm not sleeping lately and it's my own fault. A few months ago I ran out of my medicine. It was always on my mind to get it refilled, but life takes the front seat and everything else falls behind. Big mistake. The result: sleep disturbance. The scary part is how subtly it builds at first, and then erupts into a major problem. I am so exhausted my body aches, my head hurts, my eyes burn and I can't think clearly. I have no energy and feel like bursting into tears over every little thing.

I get my meds in the next day or so, and should feeling better just in time for Christmas. 'Til then, just bear with me.

So I dragged Max to the stables today to deliver hay and was met by the usual loving 'hysteria' of the goats. I was instantly happy, even in spite of the insomniac fog surrounding my brain. It was nice to take a moment to scratch their fuzzy heads and watch them greedily chunk down a flake of hay.

Back at home,Max and I fed the bunnies. I was astonished when our large, mixed-breed Jack nearly fell out of the cage trying to get to us. We thought he just wanted food so we loaded him up on goodies. Nope, he wanted lovin'. So we brought Jack indoors, fed him treats and pet him copiously.

Jack was happily munching away at a celery when a few inches away, Aphrodite's fuzzy black face popped up from under a pile of laundry. She sleepily regarded the rabbit, then lay her silly head back down. It was cute enough to pull a laugh from the depths of my lethargy-induced apathy.

As I write this, Grrr is sleeping on my bed. Keeping in mind that he is Dante's cat, that's BIG. They say animals can sense when you don't feel good so I'm taking his presence as a gesture of good will. Either that or he's waiting for me to die so he can eat my face off and get his picture on MSN news.

Dante' teases me that I must have a tumor and her cat knows it. Ha-ha. So funny. If your sleeping at night, don't take it for granted. Hopefully I've learned my lesson.

peace,
-EJ

Random quote #1

"I barfed in my cowboy hat."

-Max Jeffery 11/08

pumpkins, puppies, and legalism

Today was Halloween. As a Christian, a mom , and a Pastor's wife, the subject of Halloween is always a toughie. The mention of this 'holiday' can stir controversy and start fights faster than you can say "Holy legalism, Batman!" .

After a few years of avoiding this event like the plague, I finally grew tired of basing my actions on the fear of prying eyes and wagging tongues. The end result?: a great day. Maxwell gleefully skipped around the house in his dalmatian costume. He enjoyed the imaginative play. All day my little 'doggie' pretended to bark and scamper about on all fours.

In the afternoon, Paxson and Richard came upstairs to carve pumpkins with Max and Dante'. It was a rare moment to have most of the kids gathered together having fun. Paxson pronounced Maxwell to be cute and kissed his forehead. William emerged from his room dressed like a Ninja and he looked fabulous! I actually saw him smile before heading out to a football game.

Max loved trick-or-treating. It really was nice to be out in our neighborhood, chatting with friends, admiring the cuteness of other little kids and being a part of our community. We saw almost no 'scary' costumes. The smaller children go out earlier and were dressed very sweetly. I connected with people I hadn't seen in a while.

What is my point? Well, tonight stirred a bit of a memory in me. As a child, it was that feeling of wonder at being outdoors at night, the smell of the fresh, cool air, holding my mom or dad's dad, and that little bit of attention given by grownups handing out candy. "Aren't you cute?", they might say. Over the years , most of that got replaced by fear, legalism, and political correctness. Over time, Christmas parties at school became generic winter parties. Easter parties were blandly re-named spring parties, and Halloween became the devil's playground in the eyes of many.

Please don't give me a lecture on a pagan event practiced eons ago in a foreign country. That is not what we are doing here in the U.S. By that argument, we would have to give up Easter as well, and Christmas would simply have to go. After all, those same pagans who invented Samhain, also created Ostara, aka Easter, and Winter's solstice, aka Christmas. I can't speak for everyone , but I am assuming most of you reading this celebrate both the birth and resurrection of Jesus, our Lord and savior and don't give a hoot what the druids were doing about the same time hundreds to thousands of years ago. There is my point.

Last week one my son's little playmates informed him that he loves Satan, simply because he was excited for Christmas to come! Now what on earth am I supposed to say to that? That just broke my heart on behalf of both the kids. But I am not about to interfere with what a little one's parents have taught him/her. It isn't my place.

Haven't we learned through the real teachings of Jesus , that what we eat, how we eat, when we worship or where, is not the way we 'earn' a ticket to heaven? Does anyone assume that God is so shallow we can buy His glorious love by refusing to eat meat, or worshipping only on saturdays? If I refuse to acknowlege the day of my birth, does it make me more holy?
Newsflash: read the book of Matthew. It says plainly "No man comes to the Father but through Me!" in reference to Jesus.
That's it. The only way.

Is Halloween really important to me? No, not at all. But it has become the point at which I stop following a crowd and look to Christ for my direction in life. For those who choose to eschew this day, that's great. Please follow your own personal convictions. And I understand your concerns, as I have weighed these same matters many times over. But God is to be the centerpiece of our lives, not our lists of legalistic 'does' and 'don'ts'.
Peace,
EJ