Archive | DiVoran Lites My Take- Monday RSS feed for this section

Asparagus and the Cat

21 Apr

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

Author, Poet and ArtistI just got home from the grocery store. Even though Bill’s not here, I just had to buy some asparagus. Have you seen the email that says asparagus cures cancer? The smell you get jn the bathroom after eating it is actually its detoxification properties. Bill knows a man who was at death’s door and had all kinds of chemotherapies who was healed by it. I haven’t believed it before, but now for some unfathomable reason I do. I got the email again this week and printed it out for a friend.

Miracle foods abound. Some, like coconut oil, we may not have thought about. But now it too, is the talk of the town. Our internist who was a locally famous doctor told us to start using coconut oil, but I didn’t know how to use it. I bought a book by a woman who used it to slow her husband’s Alzheimer’s. She was a doc and she documented the whole thing. She could tell by his memory when she had given it to him and when she hadn’t. But she fed him large amounts I didn’t think I could handle. Lately I’ve been scrambling an egg in about a teaspoon of it every morning, which is, I understand, is not nearly enough coconut oil.

So anyhow, on his trip, Bill likes to go to Marie Callender’s for breakfast. He’s been telling me over the phone about their Eggs Benedict and how much he loves to order the dish for breakfast. They have soft buns that don’t get soggy, tomatoes, avocados, eggs, and of course hollandaise sauce. I’ve heard about hollandaise sauce for years, but I’ve never known what was in it.

Well, here are some synchronicities. Today I got an email about over a hundred things coconut oil can do for you and what you can do with it. It’s good for skin and for healing on the inside. The site has delicious sounding recipes, like chocolate coconut clusters that are actually good for you. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to make for my cat, Jasmine, some soup. I’ll call it allergy soup because she suffers from terrible skin problems. The soup will have asparagus, coconut oil, and beef broth. I’ll use canned asparagus for her, which is perfectly acceptable. I’ll put in her arnica Montana (that’s a homeopathic for pain) and her skin irritation homeopathic, and her animal probiotic. I think she’ll love it and it will have a healing effect on her. For me, it’s hollandaise on asparagus and dark cocoa coconut clusters. You can find those and a whole lot of other good things on www.wellnessmama.com. I get my homeopathics from www.1800homeopathic. That’s good stuff!

Thrive

“Dear Friend-I hope all is well with you and that you are as healthy in body as you are strong in spirit.” 3 John 1-2 (New Living Translation)

Do You Like Books or Love Books

14 Apr

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistAbout a year ago, I started taking a family consisting of Mother, Laura, two-year-old Sunny, teen-aged cousin, Rita, and fifth grader, Clarisse, to the library every three weeks. I did it because Rita is an avid reader, but lost a book from the high school library and couldn’t check out any more until it was found or paid for (which eventually happened). I understood what it might be like not to have anything to read because I too am an incurable reader, though until recently I’ve only been able to read LP books.

The first time we went, Rita selected so many books that when she stacked them she had to hold them at arm’s length. She placed her chin on the top one to steady the stack. That was an endearing sight.

We went again this last Sunday, but this time I was the greedy one. I checked out six novels and three non-fiction books from the NEW bookshelves. Books are almost as important as shelter or clothing to a writer.

Fiction

  1. The Fever Tree, Jennifer McVeigh
  2. Lookaway, Lookaway, by Wilton Barnhardt.
  3. The Cleaner of Chartres, by Salley Vickers
  4. Tapestry of Fortunes, by Elizabeth Berg
  5. A Nearly Perfect Copy, by Allison Amend
  6. One Glorious Ambition, by Jane Kirkpatrick.

Non-Fiction

  1. Smart Chefs Stay Slim: Lessons in eating and living from America’s best chefs, by Allison Adato.
  2. This is the Story of A Happy Marriage, by Ann Patchett
  3. To the Moon and Timbuktu, by Nina Sovich,

So that’s the list of what I have to look forward to. I feel rich. I teased Rita a bit when I showed her I had more books this time than she did. She was proud to announce that she left a few she wanted, knowing they would be there the next time she came back. Oh, yes? I’m not so sure about that, I wasn’t taking any chances this time.

Do you have your books in the public library? We have ours in two libraries in our county and in the Orlando Public Library as well. Bill just asked and they took them. You never lose by giving things away. God always gives more than we do, and some people read so many books they can’t possibly afford to buy them all. I understand Amazon Kindle has a lending policy, as well. There are a lot of benefits to being open-handed. “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

boat

 

Gorging on Green Beans

7 Apr

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

Author, Poet and ArtistGreen beans have almost no calories, but they’re full of nutrition and are some of those all important fruit and veggies we hear so much about. Our grocery store has wonderful fresh pole beans, right now. We’ve had them twice. But no matter how fresh veggies are, if they aren’t properly cooked and deliciously seasoned, they can be practically tasteless.

One of the weight loss plans we’ve been on, taught us to stop eating when we felt full. Another (the HCG plan) showed us that our weight was more affected by carbohydrates than by anything else. Of course, that included the supposedly magical whole grains we love. Now we try for one small piece of bread or a rice cake a day, and we’re keeping the weight off.

I was brought up to believe that for supper you should have

1 meat dish

1 salad (it could be canned pears on a lettuce leaf and some cottage cheese)

1 cooked vegetable (where I came from they were always canned, but later I sometimes served frozen)

1 carb, usually rice, pasta, or potato, sometimes two if you count the bread

1 dessert (half the time it was JELL-O®

I tried to feed my family that way. I think most American moms, in that era did.

In later years, it was hard for us become accustomed to fresh vegetables. I didn’t know how to cook them and because we didn’t use them fast enough they went bad in the refrigerator. Now we say, “Hmm, this broccoli, spinach, or asparagus, these artichokes, carrots, or green beans, are wonderful!Yes, we have learned to cook and season them properly. We cook them in one of three ways: pressure cooker, microwave steamer, or pot on the stove. For seasoning we use bit of salt, a chopped up garlic clove, and herbs. We grow basil, tarragon, thyme, rosemary, marjoram, and oregano. We have a chart that tells which foods go with which herbs, but we’re doing a lot of experimenting on our own. Every combination we’ve tried so far has been good. The only other dish we have for supper is our meat. All protein is the same except for fat count. Yes, we seem to be carnivores, maybe someday we’ll switch to vegetarian, but maybe not. Anyhow, we have semi-healthy snack in the evening and eat a few nuts. And our weight, blessedly, is holding well.

Oh, and by the way, we asked our internist who is well educated in nutrition whether we had to eat a large variety of vegetables or not, and she told us it wasn’t necessary. We buy the ones we like and for the present our weight and the food we eat are flowing together nicely. What a relief!

How do you feel about vegetables?

Green beans

 

The Family Man

31 Mar

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistOn Sundays, our children’s class sings and plays percussion instruments. We have a special song called “Never Alone.” It was Bill’s favorite hymn when he was growing up and the concept of God staying near stuck with him. The kids like it too. Tina and Anna sing at the top of their lungs. They are cousins. Both their dads have been in prison for most of the girl’s lives.

When it was time to go outside to play Tina and Anna ran for the tire swing. Sometimes children from the baby class join us. Sunny is a favorite, but a bit small for the tire swing. Tina and Anna are careful so we set him near them and showed him how to hang on to the plastic covered chains. He kept giggling, however, and sliding off.

Then Big Tom came out. He’s a truly gentle giant and he has a deeply tender spot for children. In fact, he seems to come for a brief visit every Sunday. His own kids adore him, and his sweet and gentle wife, as well, but they don’t live with him, and he misses them.

Now he begins to turn the swing slowly by pulling on the chains. “I can reach all the way around and give Sunny a smooth ride,” he said. Suddenly a soft breeze blew through. The trees rustled. Everything hushed. Tom smiled to himself as the air was filled with peace and love. The children rotated slowly on the swing and were as still as still can be. In that moment, it seemed that Tom was free of pain and loneliness for his children, and that maybe Tina and Anna got a taste of what it would be like to have fathers on the spot to play with them. It reminded them, perhaps of God’s care for them. Though we may miss our nearest and dearest, God has promised never to leave us, never to leave us alone.

“God will never leave us for forsake us.” Hebrews 13:5

comforters

The Music Makers~Part 2

24 Mar

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistRita and I decided to go to Panera’s for a treat. There after a lot of discussion, we finally decided to have pecan braids. The server placed our pastries on two large platters and gave us each a table knife, a fork, and a napkin. We filled our clear, plastic glasses with ice, I grabbed a handful of butter packs, we finished off the half n’ half pitcher and heard the ice crackle as the hot coffee poured over it. We took several sugar packs, and settled into a small booth. I didn’t know how to eat the pecan braid properly, so I mixed preference and the tools at hand and cut off small portions with knife and fork and buttered each one to eat with my fingers. Rita did the same. I hoped it was close to correct.

I felt as if I were back in harness as mom and then grandmother to a teenaged girl. It was fun, and Rita was having a good time too. We talked for a long time then decided to go to the bookstore.  We both love to read, and we have a lot of understanding for each other, but, she loves fantasy and I like other kinds of fiction. It felt good to just listen as she described the contents of the books there that she had read. I didn’t have to judge, criticize, or correct anything. I think what she’s reading is doing her good, because it’s as if someone truly understand her feelings and has found solutions that she might also consider.

She wanted to go in a special clothing store where her boy cousin once worked in another city. She let me know that she appreciated the fact that I didn’t have to criticize the clothes or her taste. I wasn’t there to teach such things and that was freeing for me.

Then it was time to get back for the concert. The auditorium was so full we had to climb to the tenth level. We looked for Clarisse on the overflowing stage, but finally located her on the monitor. From then on, she was the most important person on the stage to us. Apparently, she was thinking about us too. When she wasn’t singing, she shaded her eyes and looked out into the auditorium. Later I asked if she wondered where we were. She said she yes. She also said they had practiced all morning and only got to eat as much lunch as they could get down in fifteen minutes. I offered sliced oranges and small Hershey bars. Rita donated cookies, and chips, so we filled Clarisse up and we talked all the way home. By the way, the music was wonderful, especially the song they sang at the beginning and the end, “We are the Music Makers.” Oh yes, so true. Our children are our music makers in every way possible, and I pray they will always be allowed to make music and friends of their own choice as well as behave as well as we think they should.

Purple Butterfly

By DiVoran Lites

 

The Music Makers~Part 1

17 Mar

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistSaturday I had the privilege of taking fifth grader, Clarisse, to sing at the King Center in Melbourne. As it turned out, it was a big deal. There were only eight students from her school chosen to go. She wore her uniform, which was a pair of black pants and a long sleeved white shirt. Her teacher had a satin cumberbund and bow-tie for her and the other children from their school. Rita, Clarisse’s 17-year-old cousin who lives with her family went along too. We had to be there at eight a. m. So we got up early and drove forty-five minutes down I-95 to get there on time.

Adults and children from all over Brevard County flooded the walkways into the center. Carrie told us we couldn’t go in with her and she didn’t want any hugging, kissing, or long goodbyes, so we walked twenty paces behind and she seemed happy with that. As she walked away, she looked tall and slender in her black pants and white shirt with her hair in cornrows. She had given firm instructions to her cousin not to call out her name in the auditorium.

Rita and I headed for the counties best retail center, The Avenues in Viera. On the way, we talked about high school and friends. Apparently, high school is not a bed of roses. It certainly wasn’t for me. My take is that people want Rita when they want her, but they don’t have any use for her when she needs them and they are sometimes cruelly critical. I could honestly reassure her that she is a good person, and a smart one and she was the one who brought up the fact that high school wasn’t going to last forever. I told her I’d had some of the same things happen to me, but I let them go on for too long. I tried to persuade her that each of us has great worth and that we are free to choose our own friends.

I mean one’s whole life doesn’t have to be long-suffering, does it? Isn’t it okay to find a real and dear friend once in a while? Really, I did have some dear friends, but I thought I ought to please everyone, and I didn’t want to be self-indulgent so I spent more time with the ones I felt uncomfortable with because I didn’t want to be too self-indulgent. Haven’t we all done that—at least sometimes?

Green and pink paintingpng

Great Aunt Allie’s Blindness

10 Mar

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistI met Great Aunt Allie when I was twelve years old. My granddad and grandmother took me to Illinois to meet some of my kin. I enjoyed my second and third cousins and had a wonderful time, but I’ll never forget meeting Allie, my great grandmother’s sister. She was the first blind person I’d ever met. She was sitting down when they introduced us, and she asked if she could feel my face. I thought then, and have always thought, it would tell her about my appearance. Recently, though I’ve talked with Janet Eckles about it and she says, no, it doesn’t tell much. But now that I know more about Allie, I think she just wanted to touch her great-grand niece.

The Illinois families had always been farmers. They lived harsh lives, and I think they must have kept a thin layer of armor around their hearts so they wouldn’t be hurt beyond bearing. I don’t remember any hugging from any of my people.

That’s one reason the next story is so sad, though it goes back in time to when I was a newborn. Apparently, the meeting in Illinois wasn’t our first. Allie traveled to Colorado around the time I was born. My mother tells the story with much regret. Seems in those days the medical community decreed that if you held babies unnecessarily you spoiled them. Unnecessarily was any time when you weren’t feeding them or tending to their needs in some other way. My mother followed doctors’ orders and did not allow Allie to hold me. But Allie wasn’t easily discouraged. She stood by my Bathinette while Mother bathed me, and rocked it with her knee as she sang, “Rock-a-bye Baby.”

The last story isn’t about me, but it’s the best one. Allie and all my female relatives, in Illinois, were quilters. Allie managed to live alone, but I’m sure she received help from her family. Anyhow, she had her quilting frame set up in her living room and she’d piece together scraps of material into warm coverlets and give them away. It’s amazing that she could do that. She didn’t have anyone in the house to thread her needles so every morning she took several to a corner on the tiny Main Street and waited for someone to come by. Many times, it turned out to be the town judge. She had known him since he was a boy. She probably gave him lots of fresh fruit pies when was growing up. When the judge threaded the needles, he was showing his respect for Allie in the way it was most needed.

What is the point of these stories? Whatever you like. Maybe it will encourage you to tell some of your own family stories. Believe me; someone will appreciate them if you do. I’d like to read them myself. And they make terrific grist for a writer’s mill.

A Time for Everything Under the Sun

3 Mar

Author, Poet and ArtistThere’s a time for everything under the sun, even in our mundane, daily lives, even a time to clean the refrigerator.

Last night, after supper, while Bill went to a meeting, I decided to clean the refrigerator. The cherry juices in the produce drawer and the smears on the top glass shelf have been bothering me since I got my new eyes. (“Believing is Seeing). He and I planned to finish watching “Fiddler on the Roof,” when he got home, so naturally, when he walked into the kitchen and saw what I was doing, he immediately wanted to help.

Everything that had once been in the refrigerator was now on the counters in colorful, casual arrangements. We had red apples, orange oranges, a jar of green pickled okra (which has been in there for a year or more), and a big clear pitcher full of topaz-colored iced tea.

The glass shelves slid in, shimmering with reflections from the light. As Bill handed me the items one by one I rejoiced in the quality and abundance of food. We had too many avocadoes, but we like them in many things, and they will stay good until we take them out and let them ripen. We had a re-run dish of mushroom meatballs with homemade basil sauce and some perfectly cooked (if I do say so myself) spring pole beans for a side.

Jasmine, our domestic cat, who likes to help with everything, sat on the damp cloth I’d used to clean the floor. I suppose she was guarding the cloth for me. I can’t think of any other reason a cat would sit on a wet cloth, can you?

When we finished, I was thrilled with the sparkling cleanliness and the beauty of the colors gleaming within. I hadn’t touched the inner door shelf or the outside of the refrigerator, which is splacked with favorite Bible verses, quotations, photos, and magnets. I’ll de-clutter all that when the time is right.

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 NIV

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

colors of the fridge

Nice and clean

#MondayBlogs #Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

Try a Little Dirt

24 Feb

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

Children need to eat a peck of dirt before they grow up. Have you ever heard that? It has been around a long time and if you’d been reared in the way I was, you’d believe it. I read recently in a magazine that germs in good clean dirt can teach a child’s immune system the difference between good and bad bacteria and save them developing allergies.

Here are some things you can do to strengthen your children’s immune systems.

1.   Encourage them to bite their nails. Remember, though, it can be as habit-forming as smoking, so you have to take that into consideration. If they do take up smoking, they can get the nicotine they come to crave, from electronic cigarettes and by-pass the tar that would coat their lungs. That would be good, but it has nothing to do with nail biting.

2.   Let them kiss the dog. You can even let the dog lick their faces. Now why didn’t I get to do this? My parents thought the dog’s tongue had been in terrible places and let me know about it. But you know what, as it turns out dogs have healing stuff in their saliva, so I could have been just as chummy with my dear dog as I wanted to be. Oh, well, it’s all saliva under the bridge.

3.   Don’t bathe them every single day. In this case for sure a little dirt won’t hurt. But, what about the sheets, what about sand in their beds? Well, if they wet their beds, you have to change the sheets every night and every morning, anyhow. The kids have to have a bath too, so bathe them in the morning when you change the sheets and everything will be good and clean all day. I mean the sheets will be clean. We hope the kids will find a little dirt to play in. I had no idea how complicated this might become.

4.   Put the baby’s pacifier in your mouth to clean it off. Don’t forget, though, babies are deadly. I’ve caught my best colds just from sharing a bite of cookie. Besides, I don’t mind doggy spit, but baby’s? Yuk, no.

Now here’s my childhood experience and I’m really quite healthy. The worst disease I’ve ever had was the flu and that only a couple times in my life. No, I don’t get flu shots, but you go right ahead. I’m not responsible for what you do.

Anyhow, my childhood girlfriend, Suzie Q., and I emailed our memoirs to each other one cold winter. That was fun. We were as honest as we could be. One thing we discovered was that we lived an incredibly dirty life. Everywhere we went there was dirt—the school playground was all dirt. It had scattered pieces of old broken glass here and there. (The broken glass was a treasure. We saved it and used it to play hopscotch.) My brother and I liked to explore the prairie and vacant lots. Susie Q’s brothers had a thriving fishing-worm business. That was not a clean job. And here’s the clincher…none of us ever took a bath more than once a week. We may have washed our hands now and then, though. I really can’t remember, I had to wash dishes every day so why would I need to wash my hands?

Did the dirt show? Yes. Once when I stayed at Grandmother’s she noticed that my elbows were crusted with ground-in dirt. Even though I did bathe once a week, no one cared how clean I got. The more Grandmother scrubbed, the more determined she became to remove that offending layer of skin. Oh, goodness, my elbows haven’t been dirty for a minute since.

But I like Suzie Q’s story better. Her bath usually took place on Saturday night, but one Friday after school, her aunt and cousin came through town on their way home. They invited Suzy to attend a school program the cousin was in, and they left in a hurry taking a change of clothes for Suzie.

Suzie got the first bath. She was company, after all. She’d never had the first bath before because she had two older brothers who out ranked her. Yep, water was scarce. Most families bathed the whole bunch in the same few inches, one at a time, of course. Here’s good news, though, in my mother’s family, they always bathed the baby last! Anyhow, on the night of the play when Suzie finished taking all the dirt off her skin, she found it was stuck to the inside of the bathtub. There wasn’t anything she could do but dry off and get dressed for the play. She was so embarrassed when her kindly aunt simply cleaned the tub and drew new water that she never forgot it.

Dirt is good, but here in Florida, we have lot of sweat, especially in the summertime. In America, stale sweat is rude, so even though we often have water shortages, too, we still have to bathe more frequently than we might wish. We also get sand in our shoes, we have sand almost everywhere, but unfortunately, we have no dirt.

Believing is Seeing

17 Feb

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistOh, the colors! I never dreamed God created people to see as well as I can see, now that I’ve had cataracts removed and new lenses implanted in my eyes. This morning, the closet light revealed clothes that seemed to pop out at me like bright jungle flowers. They were so beautiful and the light was so bright I had to turn it off.

Last night at suppertime. I put two green artichokes on an orange cutting mat and wanted to cry at the beauty of them. We have several pair of painted buntings that spend the winter in the neighborhood, but I have never seen their indigo, red-orange, and chartreuse as I did today. You should see our calico cat she’s gorgeous. Her black fur is shiny black, her burnt orange fur is gorgeous, and her white fur blazes. I’m using 12-point type for the first time in years and can tell a period from a common on the screen! Wow!

I understand that most people feel this way after they get cataracts removed. But I’m telling you about my personal experience, so bear with me. I was twelve years old when the optometrist diagnosed progressive myopia, which means I was near-sighted and would become more so every year. Mother was deeply saddened by the possibility that when I was old I could be completely blind. Indeed, my eyes became progressively worse until one lens was almost as thick as a pop-bottle bottom.

Remember at the beginning when I said I never realized that God intended for us to be able to see as well as I now can? One of the first things I thought about when I walked into the house yesterday after the surgery was, If I never knew what it was to see, or even what there was to see, then what else does God have in store that I could never think or dream of until I experience it for myself? Even here on earth, as I know Him better and trust him more, I’m receiving insight and revelation about Him.

Is this what the Scriptures mean when they say,

 “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.”

I Corinthians 2:9 New Living Bible.

Painted Bunting