Thanksgiving, the most blessed of holidays.

The family gathered. Mom prepared a huge meal successfully bringing all hot dishes to the at table in sync.

In the kitchen, she was in her element. We were dressed up in church clothes and the table in lace. There was an elaborate centerpiece with perhaps a deer, sparkly fake snow and candles hand made each year by my father’s secretary. We were all happily looking forward to Mom's lime jello "salad" with dream whip, pineapple, nuts and cream cheese, and marshmallows in it, which was really a dessert.

The hot home made rolls melted the butter. Add jelly from a pretty little bowl. Mound up the mashed potatoes with more butter and skip the gravy. It was the side dishes that made the turkey taste good.

Thanksgiving foods with sugar:

sweet potatoes
jello salad
pie
ice cream
rolls with jelly
cranberry sauce
sweet drinks
pumkin
apple

High fat list:

gravy
butter in the mashed potatoes
French fried onions on the green bean casserole
butter on the rolls
pie
ice cream & whipped cream
salad dressing
butter in the vegetables
corn souffle
butter on the sweet potatoes
stuffing

Thanksgiving foods that are LOW in sugar or fat:

hmmmm, thinking, um, uhhhhhh, let’s see....Can’t think of any right off hand. Ok maybe the relish tray if you skip the dip.

We 3 girls set the table correctly as we had learned in Girl Scouts. My father, ever the gentleman, pulled the chair out for us.

He would carve turkey at the table with a monogramed sterling silver knife and fork which matched ours. Who wants the drumstick? Would you like dark or light meat? Dark please. Say when.

One of us would sing-song grace:

God is great, and He is good,
and we thank Him for this food.

So we made good memories. We put our napkins in our laps, tried not to talk with food in our mouth, and passed to the left and with pleases and thank you's.

Daddy and my brother would watch football. We girls took turns using the dish master, a hose with a brush that sprayed water and held soap in it. When you wanted soap you pushed the button. This was a modern invention during the days before dishwashers.

I cannot remember what happened after the feast and clean up.

first UN free write

title: Nov. 17, 2008, Sunday evening


I copied the hymn during the offering because of the verse about art not being only for decorating Christian brochures. I let myself be trapped by that idea for years.

God, All Nature Sings Thy Glory (verses 1 and 2)

God, all nature sings thy glory, and thy works proclaim thy might;
ordered vastness in the heavens, ordered course of day and night;
beauty in the changing seasons, beauty in the storming sea;
all the changing moods of nature praise the changeless Trinity,

Clearer still we see thy hand in man who thou hast made for thee;
ruler of creation's glory, image of thy majesty.
Music, art, the fruitful garden, all the labor of his days,
are the calling of his Maker, to the harvest feast of praise.

Written by David Clowney in 1960
sung to the tune of "Ode to Joy" by Ludwig Van Beethoven, 1824

It's not such great poetry, but I appreciated the affirmation that God made me an artist on purpose and I am now using this gift from Him.

A Trial

To declutter is a good thing. Now then I have clutter in my Mac. Mac got a boo boo & went off to the Hospital. When he returned what was lost was only a couple months worth of pictures and freewrites. This time I had my external hard drive. Well, that's hugely better than losing a whole year's worth of photos like last time.

That's an interesting place, the Apple store. There are as many geniuses as customers. I ignored all the cool merchandise and went straight to the back. My genius wasn't one and I wouldn't have hung one of those tags around his neck just yet. But he tried and I appreciate their high customer service standards.

So, the "free write" clutter in my computer.

There is a vague notion that someday I will glean something worth publishing, maybe someone will be encouraged by it.

But if the writer is bogged down and isolated, it isn't going to happen.

All those files become heavy and worrisome in the mind. I don't want to go back there and read all that stuff. It's overwhelming.

Discouragement grows.

In the past writing has made you clarify things for yourself, and some of your writing people have enjoyed and been blessed by or at least your words were curious to a friend who enjoys poking around in another person's thoughts.

But freewrite stagnating in the laptop? Hmmm, not good.

So, try this instead: free write directly into your blog for one month. Yes, you will edit it, making it no longer FREE. If you want people to read your words, try it.

Still There

So - the seas still roar.

The violent reds are still out there backed by wet greens.
Rain still blackens the tree trunks, turning up the color volume.
I am blessed with a bright maple right outside my back door.

So I told my other conservative friend: if our side loses, and it did, the fall colors will still make impact every year and the sand the the waves are not going away.

I went out walking by the waves in hiking boots with an umbrella which I did not use. There was a wind advisory on the bridge. The seas all the way up to the sea walls. I had to wait for the wave to ebb and hurry over to the narrowed beach. My boots got wet over the ankles once or twice.

It is powerful to be by the water when it is calm. How much more so when it is actually frightening. The wind came from behind me so the back left side got wet. Along with crushing waves was light but pelting rain on my hood. I saw one set of dog prints.

The seas were Davy's grey, darkening toward the horizon, and the sky almost the same hue and value with more blue. The breaking waves had some olive yellow in them.

I tried to use the umbrella after turning into the wind, but it was not worth the effort. How did the sailors in old ships hold the sails? I mean I only had an umbrella! Thus the mind of men who engineered ships and sails, created by the mind of God.

I studied the colors for a sketch from memory later in the studio. I should have studied more, I didn't remember what went into the middle foreground where the waves were all churned up.

We sang the Navy hymn in church last week "for those imperiled on the sea". But there were different words.

I would not want to be out there in a storm.

The ships out on the horizon, normally stretched out lengthwise, were facing land. Are they anchored, turned by the wind or are they controlled by people?

I am glad for the fact that we have elected a man with African roots for President.
I am not glad he is liberal.
We shall see how he leads.