Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedom!

Where, oh where, do I begin? The possibilities are endless!

I feel like we haven't talked in ages. Is that okay?

Because I have truly enjoyed writing for 31 straight days about letting go of various monkeys on our backs, but it left a part of me feeling like I needed to sit on my hands and count to three thousand backwards and plug my ears and sing a happy song and hope-hope-hope that soon I could go out to recess and play again.

I have many things to share with you. And yet I fear overwhelming. And so, I shall pace myself.



1. This salad. You may have seen a version of it floating around Pinterest, but I dare say mine is slightly superior. I can't stop eating this salad. I've tried, and I can't.

Chop romaine and a couple of ripe pears (the best ones almost feel overripe), then add cooked, crumbled bacon (I scored Oscar Meyer pre-cooked bacon for $1.29 a box at my beloved Dented Can. I bought twelve boxes and you know you would have done the same), toss on some dried cranberries, chopped walnuts and then sprinkle with gorgonzola (it calls for Feta, but my way is Beh-tter.) Now, for the clincher: Mix TWO parts balsamic vinaigrette to ONE part poppyseed dressing. The regular recipe calls for the opposite proportion. Trust me.

It's best served with an ice-cold Pepsi or Dr. Pepper. No diet pop. Sorry.


2. So, as of this very moment, we have earned 7% of our fundraising goal for Operation Letting Go. (I just decided right now to call it that. It works.) Seven percent, in less than 24 hours.

Woooooooooooooooooooot!

I'm already trying to maneuver keeping everyone motivated while not alienating people or boring everyone to tears. I'll do my best to only offer timely updates and such. But I'm so pumped to dig deep and give big. I decided today that I'm not making any extra purchases this month in honor of our cause. This is important business. I don't want to miss it. I love the idea of living out the gospel this way and changing lives while we do it. And I LOVE that so many of you have expressed your enthusiasm. Your comments throughout the day kept me giddy in the midst of Siley fits and needle sticks.

I rhyme without even trying, yallz.

Some of you have asked about the button. Feel free to copy the logo and provide the link to the fundraising page ( http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/flowerpatchfarmgirl/shannanmartinsfundraisingpage ). It thrills me silly that you want to spread the word. There's a button on my sidebar now, which links directly to the page. I'm trying to figure out a way to get the text box with the button. I've put a call in to my people. Once it's up, you'll easily be able to grab it and it will link directly to where you need to go. Until then, you can rue my untechnological self along with Cory, my high school computer teacher, and my ex-boss, for whom I telecommuted with dial-up internet service.



3. This one.

He's wiley. Maybe you knew that?

I know, I know. He looks like the dreamiest boy ever. And he is.

He told me the most convoluted story at bedtime tonight about splashing Ruby with water in the bathtub at Nana's house and I sniffed his shampoo hair and smooched his neck while he talked and I knew again that I couldn't possibly love him more.

But if you happened to be anywhere near the Quest Diagnostics lab in Goshen today somewheres around 3:30, you probably heard him screeching, "NO, Mommy!" and wailing over his "button", which is actually the pink pedometer I took from him when he first started his fit. It was out. of. control. Homeboy means business with his stubborness and general attitude. He's glass half-empty. And that's an understatement.

So all of that to say, some things just don't change.



You can live in a quiet farmhouse out in the middle of a field with a dreamy kitchen and barn that makes you cry, or you can live in a 1950's punchline of a cozy cottage smack dab in the middle of town.

Wherever you go, there you are.

We're still us, through and through. I can't tell you how comforting that is.

Also? You light up my life. Ain't no playing.