Monday, January 28, 2013

Weekend Get-away

Whew, I finally did it. Every few months I have to re-enter my password to get into my blog. Sorry it took some so long to get in--five days to be exact. That's crazy. I tried everything password I had used at different times and for different sites. Nothing worked. Tonight I was finally going to admit defeat and tell blogger.com I couldn't remember my password. Before such an admission, I tried to log in one last time. So, I entered my name followed by some numbers I often use and special characters I always use. It worked!!! Now I will have to change it because you readers might decide to hack in. LOL.

So, I am in, staring at a white screen, and have no idea what I am going to write. THINKING. THINKING. THINKING. THOUGHT. I have decided. Please pour yourself something to drink (I have water and lemon at hand), pull up your chair, and let me tell you about my weekend at a scrap-booking retreat.

It was called a scrap booking retreat, but it was more of an opportunity to do whatever you wanted to do. Although we were small in numbers, only nine, we were large in interests and abilities. There was:

A P.E. teacher/active mother of 3/avid scrap-booker/reader
An elementary teacher/active mother of teenage boys/organized scrap-booker/reader
A retired kindergarten teacher/artist/knitter/musician/scrap-booker/reader
A nurse/quilter/knitter/reader
A small-animal vet/actress/world traveler/digital scrap-booker/reader
A retired military wife/quilter/knitter/reader
A retired custodian/fire builder/scrap-booker/book listener/fun-lover
A para-educator/new grandma/scrap-booker
A cross-stitcher/writer/scrap-booker who didn't scrapbook/reader/lazy bum. This would be me.

We have all been together several times over the past years, so it was fun seeing each other again, sharing stories, family pictures, vacation pictures, craft projects, You Tube videos we've laughed at, and good books we've read. It was fun not having to cook or clean up. It was also fun going to bed as early or late as we wished, getting up as early or late as we desired, showering or not, and staying in jammies all day if that is what tickled our fancy. Our fancies were tickled by flannel evening attire, so we remained thusly clad most of every day. Oh yes, our retired custodian/fire builder/scrap-booker/book listener/fun-lover made sure the cheery fire  in the fireplace kept burning. Aaaaah,sweet comfort.

When I first decided to go on this retreat, I had  hoped to finish a project I started a couple years ago. But as I stood in my office and looked first at the boxes of photos involved, then looked at all the supplies, I decided I didn't want to make decisions about what to take and what to leave behind. Neither did I want to make half a dozen back-breaking trips to the car and back. Let me tell you, scrap-booking supplies can be heavy. So, I packed up my comfy clothes, a book, a cross-stitch project I started last year, some knitting, my laptop, and some snacks. That was all I was taking..

While at the retreat, I would be sharing a room with a friend. She had told me she not only had a years worth of pictures to put in albums and a box full of old Polaroids to sort through and organize, she also would miss out scrap-booking Saturday night because she had a dinner in town for which she was helping provide music. That is why we decided to go up a day early, that and the fact that the retreat center said we could.

We weren't the only ones going early. Five of us arrived at various times Thursday afternoon, set up our tables, started projects, visited, and ate our brown bag suppers. I played a computer game.

As the weekend progressed, I watched squares of colored fabric become appliqued flowers and butterflies, squares of fabric become pieces for a sunbonnet girl quilt, gold yarn become a cowl/head wrap, and variegated yarn become a warm hat. I looked at and read patterns and instructions; and I asked lots of questions as I realized more and more their creativity and eye for color.

I saw each scrap-booker's family-life unfold as she took boxes full of photos, colored paper, stickers, and sayings, then transformed them into beautiful albums telling the story of their vacations, athletic events, hikes, parties, silly kids, beautiful grand-kids, pets, and just good-old-fun family times. While I visited with each gal and asked questions I thought, "How blessed her family is to have such wonderful photo memories preserved in albums with hand written stories for the coming generations to enjoy."

I looked at the digital albums the veterinarian made of her trips abroad with other vets to spay and neuter animal in countries where those services are either not available or not affordable. What wonderful trips, wonderful stories and photos, and wonderful service. I laughed at her stories, asked her questions, and marveled at her passion and compassion.

I observed the ladies move from their labors of love where they had been either hunched over sewing machines/ironing boards or deep in thought creating scrapbook pages, so they could stretch out on the overstuffed sofas to read another chapter or two in their books, knit another row or two on a hat, have a cup of coffee, or just close their eyes and rest. I also watched them disappear into their rooms for naps.

I rode the twenty miles into town to attended the Saturday dinner with my friend, a Robert Burns dinner to be exact, where we heard Robert Burns' poetry, listened to and sang sad Scottish songs, listened to bagpipes, and ate Cock-a-leeky soup, shepherds pie, a raspberry, whipped cream and shortbread dessert; and, are you ready for this, I also tried the watered down rye/cranberry juice/soda water beverage as well as the haggis*. All in all, it was a very interesting evening.

Now, you might be wondering what I did beside wander around checking out everyone else's activities and projects, asking questions, and partying.

I started and finished an exciting spy thriller.
Completed an inch or so on the cross-stitch Christmas stocking I'm making.
Knitted another inch or so on the first stocking I've knitted in eons. I'm on the heel now.
Did more researched and wrote 1/2 of a paper I will present in two weeks to my woman's group.
Took a couple naps.
Thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Strangely, I had made no goals for the weekend so had put no expectations on myself. Since I wasn't scrap-booking, I didn't have to get anything specific finished by Sunday afternoon. I knew my other projects were more than weekend projects. That meant I just could knit when I wanted to knit, read when I wanted to read, write when I wanted to write, or just walk around if that is what I wanted to do. I think you get the picture.

I loved doing my favorite things. I loved relaxing, but most of all I loved being around people, yet being able to have alone time when I wanted it. I found a good balance of the two. Will I continue trying to keep a "people-no people" balance in my life? I doubt it since that means travel. But I need to make the extra effort to socialize when the opportunity arises, whether at church, at the store, or at sporting events. God did not create me to keep to myself. That whole concept is not difficult for me to grasp, just difficult to implement.

So that is it in a nut shell--my weekend retreat and some reflections. Tomorrow is another day for discovery, a rainy one at that. I'm looking forward to it and what the Lord has in store. May we all experience God's presence in it.

Have a God-filled day,

Jan

*Haggis is a savory pudding containing sheep's pluck (heart, liver and lungs); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animal's stomach and simmered for approximately three hours. Most modern commercial haggis is prepared in a sausage casing rather than an actual stomach.
As the 2001 English edition of the Larousse Gastronomique puts it, "Although its description is not immediately appealing, haggis has an excellent nutty texture and delicious savory flavor".
Haggis is a traditional Scottish dish, considered the national dish of Scotland as a result of Robert Burns' poem Address to a Haggis of 1787. (From Wikipedia)










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