Most of the time I am very certain about all kinds of things in life, whether I like you or not, whether I am hungry or full, whether I want the red dress or the pink one. I am certain that I love to come home to the swake driving around the corner through the pine and birch trees, knowing that Kanti will be delighted to see me. But sometimes there are those moments when I feel like I need to rewind life a little and find out if I was certainly right.
Last week as we were preparing the swake for the three sisters' birthday, I was certain that I was doing a good job of playing the part of acreage wife and helping outdoors. Greg voices concerns periodically that I don't like to go outdoors so I have to dispel that myth by participating in outdoor activities amongst ferocious thistles and mosquitoes. On this particular evening, we were dipping five gallon buckets into the canal amidst the water lilies and watering the trees we planted this spring. This is heavy, dirty, wet work that happens on uneven terrain and requires all the new muscles I have been developing since January. Anyway, the point is that I was feeling pretty proud of myself for participating.
In fact, I was so proud of myself that as we stood in the lowlands and looked up the hill I felt certain that I was equipped to casually suggest that we needed to mow the granola. Greg turned and looked at me quizzically, "Granola?" I had a flash of realization that maybe something was amiss, so I began that rewind effort. What had I said? Why was he looking at me like that? My certainty wavered as I sifted through my words. Granola? Whoopsy, I meant canola.
Whoopsy is a word my mother uses and it serves well to describe those blips when my certainty wavers. I had another blip this week when I brought home a fabulous bag full of fresh produce. I was gifted with the produce since the usual recipient was away on holidays and was unable to pick up their weekly Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) family basket. Getting a CSA basket is a little like getting a surprise gift because you receive a variety of whatever produce is at its peak so there maybe things in there that are mystery items unless you are a farmer. As you know from the granola scenario, I am obviously not a farmer.
I brought the basket home and eagerly unpacked it to see what surprises were hidden within it. I was quite certain that the white bulb thing with green dill like fronds was a fennel but I've never actually bought a fennel bulb so thank goodness for the internet. A quick search for pictures of fennel confirmed that was indeed what was on the counter before me. There was also a bundle of red and yellow stalks with big green leaves. With my customary certainty I decided it must be rhubarb, chopped it up and began to stew it with some strawberries and stevia.
The next morning I was thoroughly enjoying eating my mystery rhubarb and strawberries on my oats when I an instant of uncertainty. Maybe the rhubarb wasn't rhubarb at all. Oh no, I was eating swiss chard and strawberries on my oatmeal. How dumb was that? It actually turned out to not be so dumb after all because it tastes yummy with the strawberries; of that I am certain!
I'm certain I am going to be wrong a few more times in my lifetime hopefully most of those events turn out to be amusing like the granola or tasty like the swiss chard.
Last week as we were preparing the swake for the three sisters' birthday, I was certain that I was doing a good job of playing the part of acreage wife and helping outdoors. Greg voices concerns periodically that I don't like to go outdoors so I have to dispel that myth by participating in outdoor activities amongst ferocious thistles and mosquitoes. On this particular evening, we were dipping five gallon buckets into the canal amidst the water lilies and watering the trees we planted this spring. This is heavy, dirty, wet work that happens on uneven terrain and requires all the new muscles I have been developing since January. Anyway, the point is that I was feeling pretty proud of myself for participating.
In fact, I was so proud of myself that as we stood in the lowlands and looked up the hill I felt certain that I was equipped to casually suggest that we needed to mow the granola. Greg turned and looked at me quizzically, "Granola?" I had a flash of realization that maybe something was amiss, so I began that rewind effort. What had I said? Why was he looking at me like that? My certainty wavered as I sifted through my words. Granola? Whoopsy, I meant canola.
Whoopsy is a word my mother uses and it serves well to describe those blips when my certainty wavers. I had another blip this week when I brought home a fabulous bag full of fresh produce. I was gifted with the produce since the usual recipient was away on holidays and was unable to pick up their weekly Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) family basket. Getting a CSA basket is a little like getting a surprise gift because you receive a variety of whatever produce is at its peak so there maybe things in there that are mystery items unless you are a farmer. As you know from the granola scenario, I am obviously not a farmer.
I brought the basket home and eagerly unpacked it to see what surprises were hidden within it. I was quite certain that the white bulb thing with green dill like fronds was a fennel but I've never actually bought a fennel bulb so thank goodness for the internet. A quick search for pictures of fennel confirmed that was indeed what was on the counter before me. There was also a bundle of red and yellow stalks with big green leaves. With my customary certainty I decided it must be rhubarb, chopped it up and began to stew it with some strawberries and stevia.
The next morning I was thoroughly enjoying eating my mystery rhubarb and strawberries on my oats when I an instant of uncertainty. Maybe the rhubarb wasn't rhubarb at all. Oh no, I was eating swiss chard and strawberries on my oatmeal. How dumb was that? It actually turned out to not be so dumb after all because it tastes yummy with the strawberries; of that I am certain!
I'm certain I am going to be wrong a few more times in my lifetime hopefully most of those events turn out to be amusing like the granola or tasty like the swiss chard.
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