This is the Day the Lord has Made by kat lee

this is the Day the Lord has made,
And everyday before and after,
And every thought,
Every religion too.

Yes, all of them,
Even the one's that suck the joy right out
of the existance of its followers.
Maybe those especially?

Or Maybe those were misinterpreted dreams
God gone through then changed in the sieve of its conduit.
Like clear water will become clear pee
Lest you throw a little asparagus in the mix
Then you get stinky pee.

God isn't the pee,
He's the Water.

Chinese Takeout

It's nice when little things can make you smile. Today I went to this little ragged chinese takeout place to get some steamed dumplings to go. The wife, she was yelling at her husband, and he proceeded to get a ladder, while she was pointing at the ceiling, all in chinese.
I watched from my chair, all the while thinking how happy it made me to hear this woman scream in chinese. Just the banter back and forth, the difference between their language and mine. I accidentally caught the angry womans eye while she was yelling, and she blushed- as though she though for a moment I could understand her. How fun to be able to yell obscenities at work with no one to understand you. I don't know what it means, but Broom-broom was one of the words she was yelling. What does 'broom broom' mean?
It made me think of the time my mother dated the chinese pharmacist, and how we'd visit him at the drugstore. Then, I thought about the story she told every time she'd had too much wine.
Once, after going out with the chinese pharmacist, she was at his home and went to use the restroom. When she came out, there he was, sprawled naked, waiting for her. In her drunken French accent, she describes the event, scrunching her thumb and index finger close to try to give a visual of his endowment.
I wonder if it were his poorly endowed manhood that turned my mother off, or the fact that he would be so bold as to do something like that. They would have had beautiful children, I think; and the French and chinese accents in one home would have been strange but good to hear.
Like asian red walls and white lace curtains. I hope my mother doesn't read this.
I won a few used sweaters for Naomi this week on Ebay. As strange as this sounds, sometimes I'll bid $6.16 on an item, because then, after I bid, it asks the next person to bid $6.66. This of course, means nothing to me, but since many pentecostals don't want to have to pay $6.66 for something, I get the item for $6.16. Funny.
I have to go~ much love, kat

Hmmm.

Hmmm. (Hmmm?)
There's the part of me that says,"There's no one in the world that hears me. I say what I wish!"
Then there's the part that says, "What if someone hears me?"
Although I believe I'm less worried about offending someone than boring them. I try not to be offensive, but boring is my human nature, especially when it comes time to blog.
What have I noticed this week? Steven was working late, so I got a chicken pot pie out of the freezer. I don't normally eat chicken pot pies, and so I read the instructions on the back.
MUST BE COOKED THOROUGHLY! It said. It showed a little picture with a meat thermometer sticking out of the center. Cook for "x" time, then check for internal temperature of "x". LOL.
I can't help but think its funny that a seventy cent pot pie would necessitate a meat thermometer, and show the little wee tiny pie with one in the photo. (I know! I wrote the same word in three different forms. You can get away with it in blogging :) ...)
What to do? I did not follow instructions. I took my chances with the pie. So far, so good.
What else is new? Naomi wants a Tether-ball. this is a ball on a string, on a concrete post. They makes little ones for cats, big ones for grown people. Who plays tether ball, you say? I guess soon we will be. The goal is to wind it all the way in your direction, so two people on opposite sides hit it the opposite direction. I don't mind playing unless Steven jumps in. Man becomes boy, and he plays tether ball to win. (ha!) It makes me laugh writing that...
But the ball comes around so fast that you have to step back or get your brains knocked out.
Soon it will be New Year's Day, which is my favorite holiday. I like to make resolutions, and we usually go on some sort of day trip with the kids. Most of the time, an IMAX movie, then a walk.
How can I be better in 2009? I write my goals, wants, needs.
Knowing the difference between a want and a need is always good.
I'm going to watch Wayne Dyer's Power of Intention again.
Being Thankful for the things that can get taken for granted.
This May will be my 13th anniversary! I'm grateful that I married someone so cool :).
My kids are amazing, my best little friends. They are becoming themselves.
My house is a work in progress! (It's a wreck! At the same time, we get to customize it for us...It doesn't need to be perfect. Sometimes the things you love most are the little character things, like a quarter in a concrete porch, or bird shaped knobs at the grandmothers house. You lose your grandmother, then the family comes. They don't want to know about financial gain. They want to unscrew the little knobs off the cabinets and each take home one. They want to have the little knob from the grandmothers kitchen, then, sometimes, they'll take off the brushed nickel matching knob off of one of their own cabinets, and stick the little bird there. Maybe on the cabinet they keep the vitamins, that the kids never use. People relate the vitamin cabinet to old folks, don't they? Even if you have one, it makes you think of older people who had one before you.)
That's what I'm working toward with the house. Not perfect, but full of heart.
Yikes! So really I came out here to blog with nothing so important to say.
Oh! I finished reading Ishmael! But I don't really want to give it back. I'm a BAD book borrower. Part of what I love so much about the book itself is that Steve Bell wrote all his little notes and highlighted it all, and Dr. Bell is (after my own Steven- Lee) the man we admire most in the world. Yup.
We adore & respect him. He's the father my husband strives to be like one day. He's the father not many have. Smart, introspective, funny. He's an old birkenstock wearing Jew-Bu-UU, and his latke's look like black burned sausage patties...but we just love him & his wife Linda too.
So having this book full of little up and down scrawls pleases me. I wonder if he'll notice my keeping it? Where is my integrity... Maybe I shall buy him a new one? Hmmm. I will definitely be thinking on it in my mind and get back with the results! Since he does not read my blog, I'm safe for now :)
Now I'm reading Song of Soloman by Toni Morrison.
Take care. if you've stumbled here by accident,

Welcome to the Kat Lee Reader.

Poetry by Kat Lee
Worst Fear

My worst fear
Would be to lose you.
Spoken of a lover,
The words evoke cheesy desperation.

For man is an island, And he boasts of that.
Cry under the floorboard, lowly broken hearted,
The populous deems a lover less necessary than pride.
Work and tolerance take you up the ladder
Clock out before you get home.
Man is an island.

Spoken of a child,
Frantic, the heart races at the idea of it…

You ate my late night milkshakes
Kicked me in my sleep.
My child…I didn’t carry you,
I grew you like a branch on a tree.
As though I’d detached then given birth to my own arm,
When you aren’t near me,
I wonder where my arm is.

Spoken of the Earth,
Scratch your nose and blink through the telltale lie.
My worst fear is not to lose you.

Man interprets what God says true,
The Earth is not your true home.
Enjoy riches as the coastline blackens,
Then He shall call you back.
Losing you is like saying goodbye
To the last of a breed of marmot you’ve never seen.
Fast fading.
Already gone?

Too bad a Day spent strolling on Earth
Isn’t more like Giving Birth to your own arm…

Round Circle Bubble Cloud

I was looking out the window, there was a cloud, it hung low and funny, like a cartoon version of itself. It hung higher than the pear tree, but lower than the pines behind it. It hung near like the blobs you see that they put the words into in drawings; but it wasn't saying anything. Maybe it was just too far to make it out.
Or maybe it was one of those blobs they put words into, so close to the pear tree. Maybe I just cannot read 'tree'. After a month long drought, maybe the tree says,
"hallelujah."

It's funny, so much of what we think, we don't say. Maybe we say ten percent, maybe its one. And then maybe 95% of what we do say is filler to avoid saying anything important. Maybe most of the stuff spoken is not connected to much thought at all, but mindless chatter to avoid letting people into what we think. That's probably a good thing.
When the old astro van pulled in front of me, my kids didn't hear me say,
"Raggedy Ass Van" or "Nasty fuckers". They might have heard, "Yikes..."
But I thought both of the two previous things, perhaps a wee bit more. (There's really a small margin between the sinister and the compassionate.)
You don't end up in too much trouble of you talk about the weather, or food, or gas mileage. Gardening.
Anything too far beyond that, I choose to just write it down. It's sort of a thought cleansing process that everyone should try. What's on your mind, how did you arrive at that, where does it take you. Because you can start out with one thing and end up somewhere you weren't planning to go.
Today I was running on the treadmill, playing Ray Charles, and I ended up crying and running, and running 20 minutes longer than I'd planned, just because the thought I'd started with took me somewhere else. And the thought was

I only say a tiny bit of what I think. What am I saying when I talk so much?

and that turned into

People make me nervous because I feel I have to earn their approval;
& that makes me exhausted trying to work so hard at it.

Thankfully, the mail truck honked the horn, delivering the roses I'd ordered for fall. I'm glad it's raining, hole digging will be easier. But after purging my mental state in my little blogs and emails, I feel better. The cloud out there- real; hovering 20 feet off the ground. Maybe the fog that was on my head when I was running. Who knows?
Here's to random chatter. May you never tire of mine :)
The girlies have a week off! I should go look up what fun things we could do.

Later! Kat

September

"I tried to call you all day!" he says.
"You have?"
"Yes! Where's your phone?"
"You know, I don't know. Where is my phone?" I'm looking around, thinking it's probably in my bag.
"It must be in my bag."
"You need to find it. Where's your bag?"
"Maybe its in the car." I go outside, and I find my phone, in my bag. Outside. On the couch.
Now, there are a number of things wrong with this. Yep, I left my purse and phone outside all night. That seems like the biggest offense. (It's not. If you're a southerner, you probably already know where I'm headed.) Where I live, chances of rain are slim, and I really don't worry too much about someone stealing my purse.
But when I said the words aloud,
"My phone was in my bag, outside on the couch" I discovered I was one of them. One of those hillbilly people that sticks their old couch outside on the porch. That's right, I have one. In my locale, it's really commonplace to see upholstered furniture hanging around outside. I'm not saying its fashionable, but its commonplace. Especially if their brown and tan plaid with a little wood trim. (Those babies must've been quite the hit!)
Mines tan microfiber, or 'Microsuede', if you're sellin' them. I can also tell you that Microfiber is the next generation of the wagonwheel velour sofa. It's the brown plaid of this decade, and I fell for it. I know I may offend a few people with that comment. If you're sitting on your microfiber sofa right now, don't take any offense. I'm nobody to talk about people hanging on to passe' trends. I'm wearing aqua crocs as we speak! And in the winter, I'll probably still be wearing them, just with socks underneath. Cosy, cosy.
So enjoy the microfiber. But it is on its way out. Apparently, mine already is. On my porch.

I'm so sorry I haven't been keeping up. I'm outside alot, and sometimes I have to drag my ass up here even when I don't feel like it. The new place means new garden beds, and when I get on here, I'm usually on the Rose Ratings site, or something like it.
(That's this - My HMF - Helpmefind.com . It's a plant site where you can review types of plants and see others success or lack of success with a plant, you can also view plant photos. I know it sounds really dull, but say you have room for only two plants. You can type in the name of a rose, and click the photo tab. You will literally see pictures of hundreds of that same species in different yards and zones. Some people read reviews on appliances or cars. I read reviews on plants. The site also tells you where you can buy the ones you want.)
If anyone has a rose called Donau, I'm desperately searching for it. This is my Holy Grail of rose bushes at the moment. Can't find it! That just drives me nuts. So I have slight plant obsession. (I think if you're starting out, Cramoisi Superieur is good. I avoid hybrid teas- antique varieties have a better form.) Let me just move on from the plant talk. I get lost there and end up lingering.

I'm not a drinker. Maybe a margarita on cinqo de mayo, maybe one on New Years, but I have no tolerance for it. But I have to tell ya, If the Democrats win in November, I plan to get drunk and do the victory dance up and down my road. A little disco here (I personally believe that Obama should've made the Bee Gee's Staying Alive his campaign song); maybe the cabbage patch, I think I'll even try a little irish stepping. I believe I'll even be dancing on my lovely porch couch. I'll be dancing where my Baptist neighbors with their Palin sign can see. I'll be dancing in front of my smug self-righteous in-laws on the holidays. I will be giddy whilst their shifty eyes be crying! And I'll be dancing with my kids, banging pots and pans come New Years Eve. (Please vote, everyone, and make my Christmas wish come true.)

If McCain wins, don't call me. I'll be sleeping in til noon the next day. Ugh.
(If you're wondering, my in-laws will not be getting this email.)

I just adore you guys so much! I have to get now, my to-do list is waiting. I hope you all have a sweet, sweet day & know that you can conquer the world with all of your big hearts! I'm pulling for you always, Kat Lee

Jammin

I'm dallying.

Or dilly/dallying, as some would say. And I'm unsure if there should be a slash or a dash there. When in doubt, I go slash for a little added flair...although it's obvious it's not the slash. I'm going with it.

When I was young, my grandmother used to send me home with a case of jelly every year. Not just any jelly, but Elderberry jelly. She was the only person in the world who could create this concoction of tangy bitter jelly, and I was impressed. She made all kinds of things, sweating over boiling pots...I remember her making 'Apple Butter' hanging the boiled apples in a table cloth over a washtub, tied to a leaning chair. She churned her own butter and grew her own corn. I used to wonder how she'd got to cussing the way she did; she seemed hard and tired. A couple years ago, she moved on to the next world and was forever gone to me, along with all her Godly food offerings.

Here I found myself missing her jellies & jams, and decided I was going to try to make them myself. Part of it was the buying of a place with a massive fig tree, spilling over...looming 16-20 feet tall. Learning about figs was my mission, and I soon learned they don't keep. I've learned how to make fig jam! I alternate between pickled fig jam & the old standard jam, and I've made over 50 jars in the last few days.

Could I try Elderberry? Elderberries grow wild, and are free if you don't mind ticks and chiggars. I do mind those things, but Steven and Naomi were up to spending a Sunday out picking berries. The first batch they picked was definitely a learning experience.Granny, if you're out there ~ not so easy!

Elderberries are like teeny tiny grapes, but bitter. First, you have to pick them off the stems with a fork, washing them. Then you boil the berries down. Then you stick a big bowl out there, and put a strainer over it. On top of the strainer, a piece of cloth. You then spoon the boiling stuff onto the cloth. Some say squeeze, some don't. (I have been.)So you jar this purple stuff as your juice. You have to sterilize your jars & keep them hot. You have to boil a giant pot of water. You make you jelly, take out the steaming jars, fill them, stick them in the big boiler, then time them & take them out. The tricky part is you can do all this & it may still not set. (In that case, you reboil it all...)

There's that part of me that says, "Well, I really like the Dickensons Blackberry jelly, and it's $4 at the gro." Then there's this other part. The part where you are working for your food. The part where you know what went into it, and if the Earth is putting it out there, it should be used. I know, I'm boring as hell today!

So Steven & Naomi go berry picking last night. They come back with 4 trashbags full of berries...30 gallons...which have to be processed today. Yikes. Steven said they went a little overboard!

I'm sitting with you instead. I'm dallying. I'm playing here, looking up Littlest Pet Shop toys for the girlies (they lost their tupperware container with the little pets they had in the move! They had over 100!!!) They tell me they need the deer & the giraffe. The zebra. So I am trying to find these things. But it's not what I should be doing.

But where do I begin?

Then the little voice in my head says,

You begin at the beginning.

Sorry I haven't kept up better~Much love & have a cool cool day!!!Kat Lee