I love to cook (except when I’m really hungry and we have none of the ingredients… that’s when I go for a really nice bacon cheesburger down the street. Mmmm….). One of my favorite things is to get something great at a restaurant and then figure out how to make it on my own. It’s always different and I add in variation, but it’s fun.

A couple of months ago (try 1/2 a year) my husband and I tried Creme Brulee for the first time. It was FANTASTIC and worth every penny of the $4.00 or whatever it was at the restaurant. I decided I had to figure out how to make it. Desserts, fortunately or unfortunately, are not always my forte. I can’t imagine one up and have it turn out (especially not chocolate… Flat brownies… as in paper-thin… not yummy). I get all hesitant and worried…

Finally, this weekend, I found a recipe I liked (I used this one mostly) and I did it! Yummers. Try it with strawberries… very yummy. The only sad part was I didn’t have a flame torch… sigh… I used the broiler which is not nearly as much fun. Someday, I’m getting me a flame torch, and not just because my husband liked the creme brulee, but mostly because I think they’re cool.

On her first day, she went to the front office and somehow in the course of the conversation admitted she was nervous to start at a new school. The secretary was very understanding and kind. Did I say kind? Well, when they got to this little girl’s new class, the secretary doomed the little girl’s future by asking the entire classroom to please be kind because the little girl was nervous.

And that, my friends, is why I don’t tell secrets unless I know you VERY well. And even then, I’m careful. You never know when that secretary is going to come back.

I’ve been asked if I don’t trust people… and I always say that I DO trust most people. That’s not the issue.

In college, I fell victim to one of the most foolish of freshman blunders. I told my roommates and friends about my crushes… without regards to how large their mouths were. It soon turned into a drama fest that didn’t quit. Everyone thought they new best for me and decided to inform me when I did it wrong. In loud words.

When it came time for me to date the love of my life… I kept my mouth shut. That seemed so strange at the time — here was the best guy in the world and I wasn’t spilling every detail to everyone I knew… But that’s part of what made it special. That’s what made things personal. It was only about him and me. No one else mattered, just as it should be. I’ve never regretted that decision.

But there are other types of poverty, too. There are children who aren’t given enough love in their homes. They go through their lives starved for attention, desperate for anyone who will love them. Their parents are too busy with their lives to give them what they need, so the children suffer.

There are children who grow up without any discipline, or anyone telling them what is right and wrong. Their lives, from almost the very beginning are tainted by this poverty. They are spoiled to the point they lose control of themselves and the respect of others.

Somehow these other types of poverty strike me almost as hard as starving in the streets. It’s true that without food people have no life. But if they have everything worldly but no love or discipline, what is their life worth?

School just started for most kids. They packed their backpacks full of dreams and excitement combined with the dread of homework and the loss of free time. They kissed their moms and dads goodbye, and they went out into school.

At school, homework is assigned, and their teacher may quiz them, may ask questions. When they turn in a paper, the teacher might not like it. They might say the student wrote it poorly, or spelled something wrong.

And then the kids get their grades. Some are good, some are bad, but the paper is behind them. They don’t have to think of it anymore. Time to party!

Then one day, those students will graduate. They will go on — to college, a job, the next big dream. And then what?

When they sit down to write for themselves, in a blog, a journal, a book, will they be prepared? Will they know who they are enough to put it down on paper?

Sometimes we are blessed with particularly good teachers who teach us HOW to learn, rather than just what to learn. My senior year in high school I had 3 that have stayed with me particularly since: Ms. Harris, Mr. Neel, and Mrs. Thornton. I think/hope it’s made me a better writer.

Still, I found myself saying to my husband the other day that it was hard for me to write posts sometimes (I have a huge number of drafts saved) because I wasn’t sure if it was said perfectly, if people would like it, if I would like it. He said, “It’s not homework” and then looked at me until I understood.

There’s no one judging these posts to give me grades. There’s no one (yet) reading my story to evaluate it. There’s only me. How is it that somehow I find myself much more frightening than Thornton, Harris, and Neel combined?

We enjoyed Japanese food (I’ve only had in once before… this was MUCH better) and then we got the real prize… she took us to a used bookstore where we got to run through the aisles and pick books we liked. Mmm… I loved it. I usually would jump for a quick, fun fiction novel, but I decided to go with a genre I hadn’t read in a while: Biographies.

I picked out “Queen of Scots: The True Life of Mary Stuart” by John Guy (I also picked Le Morte d’Arthur, never having read it either, but that doesn’t come into this story, so I’ll stop mentioning it). I figured, why not? It’ll look really nice on my bookshelf, and when I get bored, I can read through the fun interesting parts. I’ve always loved history, but I’d forgotten my love of biographies. Well written ones, anyway.

I don’t like to do book reviews here, for many reasons. One… I don’t like it when I’m then responsible for if someone likes what I suggested… yucky, bad experiences. Two… I’m usually already reading the next book. But, today, after about… a week (? Again, ask my husband… he might know. I’m always reading something, so I don’t know… but I’ll guess) of reading this book almost only when I’m feeding my boy (for a nap, not the solids at the dinner table, that would be a mess), I finished the book.

It’s fantastic. John Guy knows how to take a true story and make it interesting, while still sticking to the history. And you know what? I feel better than after reading some fiction novel… because I LEARNED things. Yup. I did. I have LOVED the Elizabethan age since I was about 2, but I never read it from Mary’s perspective. From her side, the world’s a different place.

So that’s the point of this post (I’m sure my avid readers were wondering): different perspective. Sometimes we need to pick a different genre, a different angle for the photo, a different hobby, in order to see things better. And it can be fun.

I read a post last night that slightly bothered me. A woman was talking on her blog about feminism and how women shouldn’t be told the best thing for them is marriage. Someone else mentioned (somewhere else on the blog) that we’ve “fallen” from the place where Ms. could be Miss or Mrs. and now most people are using Mrs. again. She said this was a step back.

I’ve never really wondered if I was a feminist or not. I believe women and men are equal and should be treated as such and I’ve left it at that (except at the dinner table. My poor family growing up… and my poor husband now…).

But what does “equal” mean? That’s what we all want, right? I think so. I like equal. But “equal” doesn’t have to mean the “same”… and I think it shouldn’t.

I am perfectly capable of opening doors for myself, but I love that my husband loves and respects me enough to open the door for me. I mention this, not because I think all men who don’t do that are rotten, but because my father has tried opening doors for women at work who get UPSET because they think he is degrading their position to hold the door for them.

This blog went on to say the problem is that women shouldn’t have to be married to be happy and the world should stop telling them to get married. But here’s my question: Who is the world to tell a woman that marriage would NOT make her happier? Isn’t the point of equality to let women and men make choices without regard to their sex?

I AM happier being married. It’s not that I was UNhappy single, because I really wasn’t. My life is just better now that I’m married. And since I’ve had a baby, it’s gotten even better. In college, I chose a major that most women don’t pick. I loved it. I worked in that field for a while before my son was born. I’ve considered different ways of “staying in the field” since he was born, but I am currently staying at home with him.

These were choices I made. I don’t want other women to feel like they have to make those choices. But neither do I want to feel like other women are judging me and saying I’m being anti-feminist because of my choices. It’s actually more degrading, to me, to have a woman say I’m less of a woman for being a wife and mom rather than a career woman than it is to have anyone say I can’t be something because I’m a woman.

Clearly I can’t say this with few words! Oh well. Women and men are different. That difference is part of why we love the other sex. And I love it.

I read a great quote the other day on Kimberly’s site: “There’s a world of difference between doing what you feel like doing and doing what will make you happy.” I completely agree with this statement. For example: I can get up and go running or I can sit like a lazy potato watching Boy Meets World reruns. In the long run, and in some of the short, running (or at least quick walking… or walking at all) will make me a happier, more functional person.

However… why is it I see people going beyond this? Why is it they say “if it’s not hurting, it’s not right?” Thpt! That’s foolish beyond reason… AND it gives them the chance to blame someone else for their pain. Confused yet?

Sometimes people (I keep calling them people. I have reasons for not revealing who they are… they might read this… and if they took it in a wrong way, I would be sad) do the following: They feel something might be the right thing (let’s say… eating a hamburger)… then they even pray about it (okay… really it would be something more serious than eating a hamburger, but stick with me). They feel that God approves their choice. Good. We’re all good to this point. Then… they insist on doing it right that second, even if that causes them intense pain (imagine eating the hamburger when you’ve already eaten a monster breakfast sandwich and loaded breakfast burrito from Carl’s jr.).

I believe God wants us to be happy today. We may have struggles but he wants us to be happy today. So why is it people keep saying that God wants them to suffer? (Yes, I will acknowledge that life is about learning to work through suffering and sometimes life is bad… that’s not the point of this post) If God approves your decision it also means He will help you find the way to make it work in your life. He wants us, I believe, to learn to make decisions that make us happy — now and eternally. How do we do that if we are always saying, “God says do it, so I’m dropping everything including the baby and I’m doing it now?” Sometimes that IS what’s required, but sometimes we’re supposed to give it some thought and help it to be happier for ourselves and our family.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

As soon as we were back to town, I directed my husband to the nearest Walmart to pick up a copy of Breaking Dawn (I was purchasing copies for my mother and my brother, but I got to read it first… ). We wandered around for a while before locating the book area. Twilight… New Moon… Eclipse… no Breaking Dawn. Okay… surely they must have it on a pallet somewhere… no. In fact, the man I asked didn’t even know what Breaking Dawn WAS and said their “vendor” brought in books whenever they wanted… I was appalled. Not because a guy didn’t know what the book was (the series isn’t my favorite), but because it IS the newest, biggest book of the summer in some ways… 1.3 million copies in one day… and this is WALMART…

I’m so used to them carrying everything I would ever want — and for the cheapest prices — that I go there even when my mind can’t handle the crowds and the disorganization… much to my husband’s despair…

We left Walmart and headed for the nearest Target… not much better in some ways, but here’s the result: low level of people, organized shelves, and a quick checkout. I’m sold.

My opinion on the book itself? Hmph. She could’ve done better. I don’t like to insult someone else’s writing (especially a published author)… but Twilight was better… New Moon and Eclipse were even better. I felt let down at the end of the book, despite some interesting twists and turns and ideas. I will say SOME of it was incredibly well written, so bravo on that! (I like to end on a happy note…)

To alleviate any concern any readers might feel with the definition of an ode, let me assure you that I will not be singing this. I am using this definition: “a poem on a serious subject, usually written in an elevated formal style; often written to commemorate public events” because the arrival of the 6th toe was a public event.

Ahem… I begin…

My toe, my toe, what has happened to my toe?
It was such a good little toe, there on the end
but something happened and I’m feeling low.
Instead of 1, I now have 2.
My toe, are now my toes!

And that’s all I’ve got, folks. Tomorrow I may greatly regret posting this poem….

What is more important than now? With little children, they grow so fast that we can’t keep up. In our own lives and things, in 10 years, will we want to remember that we were always looking somewhere else, or will we want to know we were happy in the moment? It reminds me of something an old Jedi master once said, “Always to the future he looks, never on where he is, what he is doing.”

I will quickly admit it is important to pay attention to your future — otherwise you will have no future. But if we don’t stop to enjoy the roses, to love that your son throws your clothes around the room and wants to touch your burnt toe, to watch the sunset, then what is the purpose of the future?

Someday, I realized this morning, my son will no longer play with things he should not. He will no longer wander the house eating everything on the floor. And, someday, he will grow up and leave my home. Today, though, I have him here. Today I have for me, for him, and for my family.

So, today, I am making myself a promise. Yesterday I enjoyed a post on finding happiness and I resolved to attend to my passions. Today I am resolved to try to do it today. I will do the things that make me happy and do them now, so that in 10 years I don’t regret the waste of 10 years.

Which means I need to go get started on my story!