Summer Reading & Reading Challenge 2023

I do all my reading these days via audiobook, and usually while walking.

I can envision where I was walking when the new Mrs. DeWinter glided down the stairs for the fancy dress ball (Rebecca) or when Mattie Ross was bit by a rattlesnake (True Grit). Sophia introduced me to the poetry of Billy Collins, and I started with Aimless Love and Whale Day; they made me laugh out loud while planting and weeding the garden.

I inhaled the latest title in Joel C. Rosenberg’s Marcus Ryker series: The Libyan Diversion, and having conquered most of the Sherlock Holmes books, I have now finished eight Agatha Christie mysteries. It was refreshing to read the enchanted fairy-tale-twist Snow and Rose; I think I liked it as much as my youngest daughter did.

Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.

C.S. Lewis

I walked miles in circles around our property when I was reading Rebecca, because I couldn’t pull myself away. What beautiful descriptions of gardens and scenery and rooms and mansions, but also a journey into a mind of wrong assumptions and insecurities that seems all too familiar.

Watership Down…what can I say? One can only push a book on family and friends so much. How can a book about rabbits be so good that you’d read it two Augusts in a row? Well, it just is that good and I cannot explain why. Read the reviews and consider reading it for yourself; the audio version is distinctively wonderful.

I can’t imagine a man really enjoying a book and reading it only once.

C.S. Lewis

But you cannot force someone to like a book. Mrs. Skibbe assigned True Grit to us in 7th grade American History class and I hardly glanced at it. I wish I could tell her now how much I enjoyed that book 40+ years later.

My cousin Tommy gave me the The Tripod Trilogy by John Christopher when I was a teenager and not particularly interested in science fiction — especially when the main character was a boy. However, these three books came to be some of my favorites. I forgot about them until recently, when I was searching for books for my youngest sons, aged 14 and 15. They gobbled up the series, and so did I again — absorbing different things as an adult reader. Books are magical that way.

No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally – and often far more – worth reading at the age of fifty and beyond.

C.S. Lewis

I am in a delicious rut of fiction-reading. But, the Christian book Gentle and Lowly stopped me in my tracks — I loved it and cried through it, having my eyes opened in a fresh way to the mysterious, unexplainable, unearned, immeasurable love of God. It’s one to read over and over again.

We read to know we are not alone.

C.S. Lewis

White Pants, Watermelon, and Wedding Plans: A Tribute to Summer 2023

Shakespeare said, “…summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” Summer always seems like it will last forever, but it never does.

White Pants

My search bar is familiar with the phrase: “clothing for women over 50.” I’m always looking for new ideas and always ready to update my wardrobe on a budget.  I never seem to own anything between the extremes of “church dress” and “sloppy gardening clothes.” But this summer I discovered white pants. I purchased a pair of white Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, and another pair of white pants from GoodWill.

It was the summer of white pants. 

That meant that unless I was in the garden, or taking a walk, I was usually wearing my white pants. But you don’t wear white pants to the fair.

Valleyfair

My son came for a visit from California, and the family planned a trip to Valleyfair. FOMO set in, and I wanted to be there. It was fun to revisit the amusement park of my childhood, and point out all the attractions that were never there when I was a teenager. But the first ride on the Corkscrew rollercoaster convinced me that I had just paid to receive an instant headache with a side order of nausea. I rode three rides, and then was content to take photos and chronicle everyone else’s bravery on video.

The colorful Corkscrew.

This stable bench = my happy place at Valleyfair.

Minnesota State Fair

As mentioned on a previous blog post, it’s an annual tradition for my man and I to visit the State Fair on the very first day of the 12-day “Minnesota Get-Together.” We always park a mile away, we always watch the parade, and we always enjoy the amateur talent contest.

This year, six of our children also got tickets for the first day of the fair. At first, we wished they wouldn’t have chosen the first day. It was our day.  Then, we expected to see them, and even saved them seats at the talent show. They didn’t show up. We were slightly disappointed.

It was a thumbnail sketch of the ambivalence of parenthood:

A: Here, let’s help you grow up so you don’t need us!

B: You want to move out? Don’t you need us anymore?

We drowned our sorrows with a pickle lemonade and a maple cream cold brew coffee and shared the meatiest Reuben sandwich.

Watermelon

With all the hot stretches in July and August, watermelon was a refreshing staple in our house, and a suitable snack for someone who is trying to fit into a mother-of-the-bride dress. The Search for the Elusive and Perfect MOB Dress has been a challenge, but I think I am getting close to victory.

Wedding Plans

General wedding plans have been a constant source of conversation around the dinner table, and via sporadic texting when the bride-to-be has a sudden idea or question. Many people have given us help, like the smart organizing spreadsheet from dear Amy, and wedding miscellaneous offered by Lori, an exceptional manager at our local Walmart. When the wedding is over, I will truly miss the process (and the bride) but I’m trying not to think about it. 

More About Summer

This summer we watched:

• One of ours leave for a military academy
• One become a lifeguard
• One get their driver’s permit
• One run in a local race
• One start seasonal work at an apple orchard

We helped Grandma with her tame and mannerly garden, and watched our own zinnias tower triumphantly over the weeds. My children planned and executed a lovely picnic for my birthday, and we tackled many 6-mile trail walks, to the delight of some and the dismay of others. We also met friends three times at the local pool, where my youngest boys had a blast, and there were camping trips and overnights…

Although I occasionally heard distant whinings that there was nothing to do, I think we did okay.

Now that we are headed back to school, the 2023 summer memories seem sweeter than ever. 

On one of those trail walks.

—

Shakespeare quote from Sonnet #18

{ What I am Learning From the Birds }

This spring, some berserk birds are inhabiting our rural property. Their quirky obsessions are both driving me nuts and teaching me things about life, business and family.

Birds rise early.

The sky is still gray and dusky when the wild birds start chattering. I cannot imagine what is going on in their minds, but kudos for their predictably cheerful morning attitude.  Although scientists don’t have a complete understanding of why birds make so much noise (how could they?) there are occasional clues. We know that Mama Robin’s chastising screech means that she is livid when we get too close to her nest, which she built in a highly trafficked position next to the front door. 

Birds get to work.

One spring morning, I clipped the jeans, shirts and hoodies to the clothesline. Later that day, I noticed the beginnings of a nest being built in the hood of the hoodie. Birds do not mess around. They do not procrastinate and they let nothing stand in their way. They do not always choose the wisest places to work, but when they act, it is swift and confident.

Birds are relentless. 

That irritating redwing blackbird swoops down and scolds us when we circle the pond on our regular walks around the property. Feverishly protecting his nesting territory, he continues his officious circuit until we are completely out of sight.

Then, there are the barn swallows. We left our garage door open last week, and now they consider it fair game for new construction. Every time we open the garage door, we are in danger of a swooping bird, although their timing seems to be impeccable — they have never made impact with the slamming door. 

Birds sing often.

Our resident Baltimore Oriole is a lovely vocalist, and he sings a memorable tune. While weeding the garden, I  repeated his singsong pattern several times to myself. Why not sing? Reports confirm that there are scientific reasons to start singing:

• Singing releases endorphins, a hormone that is associated with feelings of pleasure.
• The hormone oxytocin is also released while singing; this body chemical enhances feelings of bonding and trust.
• While singing, individuals sustain lower levels of cortisol, the stress hormone.
• Studies repeatedly find that singing relieves anxiety.
• Heart rates sync up during group singing.

Birds rest.

Since most diurnal birds cannot see in the dark, birds sleep when the daylight fades.  I can tell when things are winding down, because the singing and chatter becomes sporadic, slow and calming. Once to bed, birds don’t wake up until morning. 

Birds do take naps, so I will take that as a confirmation of what I was hoping:

short power naps increase the chances that we may rise early to sing cheerfully, work confidently, and protect our loved ones vigorously. 

Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?

Matthew 6:27

He gives food to every living thing. His faithful love endures forever.

Psalm 136:25

© Lisa M. Luciano 2021 ~  Eleven Star Content

Photo by Unsplash

{ Door Knocking }

My husband is running for a local government office, so he and I have been knocking on random doors, asking strangers in our county if they would be willing to place one of his political signs on their property. For me, this is like a series of cheap and daunting date nights; he and I with our clipboards and phone books, pulling up to farmhouses we have only viewed from a distance. I slowly crunch gravel as I tiptoe out, hoping for a positive connection, while at the same time, hoping no one is home. 

Door knocking is full of surprises. Since we started, I have had strange dogs jump into my lap, and felt forced to pet them while listening to passionate stories of local history and watershed issues.

We have been chased down by a protective father whose child was in the house alone when we knocked on the door, and after the child phoned him, he pursued us for two miles to find out our business.

Yesterday, while chatting with one woman at her door, her husband yelled out the screen door: “If you are not wearing a mask, we are not putting up a sign for you.”

So be it.

But door knocking has been unexpectedly rewarding. We have met farmers — smart, sensible, resourceful individuals who push on with their strenuous, smelly, thankless work through hot haying weather and frigid winters. I am grateful to live around such hardy, independent people.

When we approach doors, we are reminded that joy and pain and history live inside these unpretentious homes. One neighbor greeted us warmly, even though we were strangers. After connecting ourselves to a common acquaintance, we watched tears trickle down his weathered face while he apologized, confessing that his wife had just died a few weeks ago. One hour later, we left his kitchen not caring why we had come and glad we had offered ourselves as company. 

Door knocking has given us a reason to march onto a neighbor’s acreage and introduce ourselves. We have been living next to these people for more than two decades, and have never met some of them, seen their backyards, or known things like:

• Some dairy farms offer spa-like perks for their cows, such as fans, body brushes and pedicures. 
• One neighbor drove a daily carpool 40+ years to work at a candy factory in the Twin Cities.
• Around here, we have some innovative business owners, former federal agents, and 2:00 a.m. risers. 

So, I guess we will keep knocking on doors, putting up signs, and handing out pieces of glossy paper, because there are more fascinating neighbors to meet.

Photo: by John Reed / Unsplash 

 

 

{ Minnesota State Fair 2019 }

My husband saved his tips from driving Lyft so we could do the fair this year. It’s an annual tradition to go — just us — on the first day of the fair. 

After cruising up and down St. Paul streets and finally nabbing a parking space, we noticed the 1-hour parking sign. So we moved the car a few blocks away. Now, we needed a potty stop and we still had a one mile walk before we actually got to the Fairgrounds.We ducked into the nearest coffee shop for that potty stop, which ended up being the Finnish Bistro. 

While we were in line to order, a man came up to us and said, “Whatever you order, it’ll be good. Everything’s good here.” I had a Pulla latte, laced with almond syrup, nutmeg and cardamom. It was the most flavorful coffee drink I’ve ever had. 

We passed the quaint St. Anthony Park Library.

(Note to self: when you have time to spare, come back to the Finnish Bistro and check out the St. Anthony Park Library. What a cute little corner of St. Paul.)

After hiking east, we discovered that in the two years we’d skipped the MN State Fair, they had relocated the pedestrian entrance. More hiking.

(This sounds like a lot of hassle, but it’s always worth it. The Minnesota State Fair feeds, spins and entertains more people per day than any other state fair in the U.S.)

We bought our tickets, got our bags checked and finally added ourselves to the 2019 first-day-at-the-fair record attendance number of 133,326.

We joined the crowd-stream and landed at the Farmer’s Union, where Blueberry Key Lime Pie was a newcomer on the menu…but I just couldn’t pay $8 for this teeny tiny pie.

Did I mention we didn’t have a lot of cash? This can be a challenge at the MN State Fair. It’s taglined: The Great Minnesota Get Together, but another apt subtitle might be: The Great Minnesota Smorgasboard, because it’s. food. galore. here. 

And ya know…it’s kinda pricey.

There’s a brighter side of forced frugality: it makes you think: Do I really want this? before choosing. 

Though I ended up saying no to the blueberry key lime pie for $8, later on I ended up saying yes to the deep-fried bacon-wrapped-cream-cheese-filled olives for $9.

And it was worth it.

We stopped off for my husband’s go-to annual pick: roasted corn.

Roasted corn, held by its natural wrapping, earns points for frugality ($5).

Plus it’s nutritionally sound. (yawn.)

My husband had the best deal of the day: The Boss Man sandwich at The Hideaway, a cute little nook tucked inside the Grandstand. With shaved prime rib and hearty egg topped with melty white cheddar on ciabatta, $9 seemed like a steal. 

And then we did the cheap stuff:

• Got our glucose levels checked, ate ice cream samples, and exchanged our personal information for free carabiners and shaker bottles. 
• Sat and listened to music.
• Watched people, people and more people.
• Browsed the Creative Activities building for free beauty and inspiration. 

We also took in the amateur talent contest semifinals, the  #1 essential thing we never miss at the fair. Our favorite act: MKDC. They are an energetic, talented, charismatic K-Pop group who wowed the crowd, took first place, and advanced to the finals. 

21,588 steps later, we left the 2019 Minnesota State Fair with some cash still sitting in our pockets! 

One of the tallest traveling giant Ferris wheels in North America is coming to the Minnesota State Fair! The Great Big Wheel carries riders to a height of 156 feet, offering breathtaking views of the State Fairgrounds and beyond! The 15-story-tall Great Big Wheel is equipped with 36 enclosed gondolas each holding six people. Don’t miss the spectacular lighting display as the sun goes down!

{ About August }

In the life of an aging year, August is the cheerful-going-gray-stage. Decay is in the air and birds are empty-nesters. August’s garden is full of hearty thorns that cannot be rooted out easily — and she is too tired to try.

June works hard to stay attractive, but August knows better. She’s seen the storms and wind and hail and hungry insects. She shrugs and makes do. She’s got beauty: the below-skin-deep and low-maintenance kind. It’s easy-care and comfortably hospitable; visitors pop on by for a nibble, then fly to new homes.

August weeds are reckless vines, unruly thistledown and flyaway milkweed. Her ready-to-drop flowers are barely holding on to dried, patchy blooms.

August grooms herself casually — if at all — and without a mirror.

She lays back, tanned and wrinkled, as she watches summer’s finale with a satisfied, tired smile.

 

{ 4th of July Picnic 2019 }

 

Clara spent 7 hours in the kitchen creating these flavorful & festive cookies for the dessert contest

Sisters, sporting festive new scarves

Rain fell

Oh well

Clouds scattered

Families gathered

Prayer lifted

Prizes gifted

Thankful hearted,

Games started:

Three legs raced

Sweaty-faced

Watermelon eaten

Teams beaten

Gunnysacks, balloons

Pudding spooned

Muddy feet,

Let’s eat!

Sun blazed

Nets raised

Volleyball served

(We just observed)

Fireworks glow

Time to go

Last year’s picnic: { Family 4th of July 2018 }

{ The Wizard of Oz Made Me Cry }

I asked my husband out on a date.

I told him, “We’re going somewhere special. I’m treating.”

So, I brought him where he could eat his kind of food (keto)

at my kind of price (Chik Fil A).

Next, we drove to a high school production of The Wizard of Oz. 

Tickets were free (also within my budget)…

…but the performance was priceless.

~~~

Theater For All was started at a local high school by a theater arts teacher and a special education teacher.

They teamed up to offer theater classes and performance experience to

students with special needs.

Each actor or actress in The Wizard of Oz was paired up with a non-disabled counterpart. They did their parts together, with the assistant dressed in black “shadowing” the actor who was disabled.

The Wicked Witch of the West in her wheelchair, paired with her counterpart.

Dorothy, carrying Toto in a basket, was dressed in a blue gingham dress.

The counterpart Dorothy was dressed in black, shadowing the other Dorothy with a face full of encouragement and a posture that gave her partner center stage.

What made me cry?

• Hearing Dorothy belt out “Over the Rainbow” from her heart, gripping her partner’s hand, and glowing when the audience whooped and cheered. (The audience clapped and cheered throughout the play — for each song, group number and solo.)

 

• Watching the earnest Tin Man in his wheelchair beg for a heart. He was clear, sincere and charming.

 

• Seeing Glinda (the good witch) ad-lib with her counterpart. While Glinda only mouthed her lines, she watched her partner speak them loudly. Suddenly Glinda, with her braids and pink chiffon dress spilling over the wheelchair, leaned over and gently touched her partner with her star wand, insisting:

I love you!

I love you!

I love you!

The standing ovation was well deserved. We applauded the courage and enthusiasm of each actor with special needs.

We were deeply moved by the servant-like support of each non-disabled actor.  It was clear they were up on stage simply to make the other actor successful.

The event was an visual of loving others without seeking personal glory.

~~~

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves…Philippians 2:3

Thank you, Theater For All & Edina High School Thespians

 

 

Wicked Witch photo by S. Magnuson

Glinda image from Pinterest

 

{ Graduation Open House }

Rain delayed.

Volleyball played.

Pasta prolific.

Helpers terrific.

Talkers lingered.

Cake samplers fingered.

Colorful jello.

Balloons golden yellow.

No more papers

No more books

Lots of teacher’s

Happy looks

My son

Got it done

By God’s grace

Now? Finish the race.

~~~

© Lisa M. Luciano 2019

 

{ Closed Doors and Open Windows }

Life is a series of closed doors and open windows. And open doors and closed windows.
Then, there are doors that you thought were open that shut abruptly in your face.

On the other hand, doors you thought were locked can be surprisingly easy to kick open.
And occasionally, a tightly closed window will fall open, unhinged, enrapturing your soul.

Why write this?
In a desire to avoid a traditional Christmas letter, I still want to look over the year thoughtfully and learn the lessons I’ve been given. That’s what you do when you are fifty-plus. You learn that it’s worthwhile to spend 30 minutes reflecting, so that you can avoid months of making the same mistakes.

Or to be more honest, if I don’t write it down, I will forget.

January 2018 began with some confusion and a closed door. It brought the opportunity for us, as imperfect parents, to seek wisdom from the Wisdom Giver and use it to give sage advice. It’s a humbling tightrope to tiptoe upon, but asking, seeking, knocking and walking in faith will always get you to the destination God has for you.

When a door slams, the breeze it creates can heal and cause growth.

June brought another graduation, which means pasta and purple-frosted sheet cake. I leafed through old photos, amazed at how God closes precious doors at the same time He offers those looming, open windows. They lead to who-knows-where and it’s a little scary. But He is holding our hand as we slide our way through them.
Summer 2018 days were traditional and new at the same time:

• Swimming lessons in a different pool.
• Beach trips to new local shores.
• New project ideas at the same old county fair.

The garden was stingy with tomatoes, but generous in zinnias, bees and butterflies.

Then came a wide open window, a chance to see an old friend after many years. That meeting was unexpected & sweet.
Summer ushered us gently into fall, so we basked in apple-bounty and we crafted on a shoestring. New doors opened for my husband and his job shook up our schedule, but it also gifted us with new stories and opportunities.
In November we celebrated Turkey Bowl #19. My husband is almost 60 and runs around a football field with such agility that his fellow amateur athletes think he’s 35. I will continue to thank God for my husband’s good health, even as I get out the Tiger Balm and Epsom salts.
And shortly after we hosted new friends for Thanksgiving, I looked at my kitchen with fresh eyes:

We have lived here for 20 years. It’s time to give this place a face lift.

• I am shutting the proverbial door on those faded chicken curtains and poultry art in general.
• I am ready to toss threadbare towels and lose that bright yellow bathroom.

(These are the types of Home Decorating Mission Statements that I hope will propel me through 2019.)
So, paint chips have been secured, walls stripped bare of rooster paraphernalia and Pinterest has been feverishly scanned. I hope next year’s recap will include some home decor success stories.

Still in 2018, we have a son who is following an idea, a dream, a possibility. It’s progressing; it’s full of many little steps. And if — after all the steps — this son finds a closed door, it will be okay. The hallway he walked down has been worth it.

Sometimes a closed door gives you the oomph to scale a ladder and pry open a window, where you find something better.

And sometimes, you just pivot, re-trace your steps, turn the corner and look for another inviting door to try.

Oh, I forgot the books.

Books and audiobooks (new & old favorites) inspired and entertained us in 2018:

• Never Split the Difference
• Loving God
• The Kremlin Conspiracy
• Stuff Matters
• Miracle at the Higher Grounds Cafe
• Who Moved My Cheese?
• Wordsmithy
• Boundaries
• Rifles for Watie
• The Traitor’s Gate
• The Whole Young James Bond Series — again.
• Bird By Bird
• The Princess and the Goblin
• Storyworthy

In 2018, we saw new babies born and sick marriages die. People entered our lives and our church, and people exited. A dear family moved miles away and started a new chapter and we are happy for their open window…but it looks a little like a closed door on our side.

And still in 2018, our peers became in-laws and grandparents and we were reminded that we are all getting older. This happens slowly–and never in our hearts — but always in the mirror.
Well, I’ll end here for now — unless I God opens a window in my brain and reminds me of something important I forgot.
© Lisa M. Luciano

Photo credits:

white infinity doors:Filip Kominik

colored locker doors:moren hsu

blue windows:Paul Fleury