Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Turn, Turn, Turn

In a matter of days we've crossed the bridge from the prim, pursed lips of the socialite tulips who believe in their heart of hearts that we all owe them the world (we do) (shhh) to the fiery teenager tulips with their skirts crooked and splayed, flaming red.

The socialites were first to the scene, so charming and graceful, backs straight, lined up like a church lady choir.

The angsty, messy teenagers don't even bother playing it cool. Their faces open wide to the sky and the air, their inked-up arms reach out to grab what they can. They're star-struck. Front row ticket holders. They don't give a rip if we're impressed. They know they signal an end to this fine act. They don't mind at all that it means they're almost goners.

The socialites sure are pretty, but I'm figuring out that I'm a trashy teenager. Or at least I aspire to be.

(Do you ever write a line on your blog and imagine it emblazoned as a headline when you, say, run for President someday? Me, either.)

Summer's kinda here, baby. We all have a fresh pair of $2 flip-flops to prove it.

Things came more alive today and my heart was quiet, because I know that just as this season takes its turn, shuts its door, the world it moves in does the same, and none of us is exempt.

I would have guessed that finally coming to grips with a life that never stops changing would have left me bereft, unsettled. Truth is, I find it tremendously comforting today. It means that all that is required of me is to live this day well. Tomorrow will be a different scene, a different sky. It will be new challenges, new heart cracks, new chances to run outside during my free hour to clip a branch of tangible hope and carry it with me inside.

I desperately want to hold on to this free-fall. I want to wear it until it fits like a second skin.

We lived this day well, and we can do it again tomorrow and then again and again, when things are different and the tulip petals make a carpet for whatever comes next.

We can be certain about the promise that He never changes, and that He is our home. So today, right now, I'm okay throwing my hands in the air, shucking the rules, and playing my music way too loud. With me?

PS -  Our new canvas came. I love it so much. The 8x10 looks smaller than I thought it would, with the sides all wrapped. But we can't all be an 11x17. {EDIT:: Just measured the canvas. Sure enough, 8x10 without including the sides!}

PSS - Crack broccoli, okay? It has revolutionized our broccoli-eating (see, nothing stays the same!) and we were fairly high on the broccoli-loving totem pole. (Now I'm finding it impossible to move on because I'm imagining what a broccoli-loving totem pole might look like... I need a moment...)

So. Here's the recipe. It is imperative that you follow the directions, specifically the one that says to heat the baking sheet with the oven. It makes the most satisfying sizzling sound when you toss it on the pan. And make sure you squeeze lemon over it at at the end! I can't stop loving it. It's the healthier version of crack bark, by a factor of about 2 million.

And, now I want crack bark. Goodbye.


  1. i didn't get an 8x10. because shipping seemed ridiculous. but now i regret it. yours is perfect

    also? i needed this broccoli recipe. how did you even know?? must've been the dream.

    1. That's how they get you with the 15.00 shipping, the 8 by 10 really is tiny it makes more sense to wait for the next size up that offers free shipping I have bought many canvases like that and love them the 8 by 10's are too small for me.

    2. It's smallish, but I'm excited to get several different sizes and group them all together!

  2. Yes, the headlines will be screaming your trashy teenager line when you run for office.

    I'll be having that broccoli tomorrow.

    That canvas is beautiful.

  3. I started with a different recipe for my roasted broccoli, but same difference (though not the preheating of the baking sheet. We all love it. Even my husband who was previously an anti-broccolist!

  4. Hi, I already love roasted broccoli. But crack broccoli? I'm on it. Aldi, here we come!

  5. that canvas.


    i found myself praying for robert and old man nick the other night.

    i always wonder in the prompting why it's so important right that very moment. is it just my turn? is something wrong? does his heart hurt? is he afraid? i covered him up. i hope he felt it. i pray it was enough.

    you cover him well enough for us all.

    thank you brave girl.


  6. ok, i love all of this.
    and is it march 2014 yet?

  7. Thanks for the recipe! Sounds very good.

  8. That shmocoli. I adore it. I mean except when it's boiled. EW. I lived my whole life with boiled vegetables, BOILED to the point of SOGGY and then? I moved out and learned about garlic and roasting. I'm trying not to be bitter with my mom. I mean, she put veggies on the table every day, so that's something. EVEN though they were tragically murdered in the process.

  9. Live this day well...that takes away a lot of stress we put on ourselves worrying about tomorrow doesn't it? I love broccoli so I am going to check out the recipe - yet another way to live well : )

  10. I've been meaning to jot you a note about crack bark for like a week. And there here you go... plopping it right in the middle of a post about canvases and broccoli. It's like you knew...

    Anyway, here is my story: 2 Christmases ago you introduced me to crack bark and my life has never been the same. It's become a major part of my holiday tradition. This year was no different and I whipped up a DOUBLE batch and divided it up into smaller packages and plopped them in my freezer. Life moved on and here we are in spring (or at least what is supposed to be spring) and I recently found out that I'm totally preggers and had a hankering for crack bark like none other. I was rummaging around in my freezer and what did my wondering eyes behold?!?!?! A forgotten ziploc bursting with salted, chocolately, pretzelly goodness.

    I don't even care that pretzelly isn't even a word.

    Bless you, FPFG. Bless you indeed.

  11. 8x10 anything is small.
    we need more 11x16's in our lives.

    ; )

    I had something else funny to say but I got distracted by the pile of work that is sitting beside me that I absolutely must do.

  12. beautiful photos, as always but THAT BROCOLLI< BROCCOLI? how ever you spell it? thank you, from the bottom of my heart!!! xoxoxo

    1. The squeeze of lemon at the end is non-negotiable!

  13. very excited about the broccoli. very.excited. for some reason, it looks like it would taste super salty? don't tell me if it doesn't...I don't wanna know.

    and the new canvas...pretty dang spectacular...i'm guessing it's your most prized photo.

    1. Not salty AT ALL! Make sure you squeeze lemon over it at the end. My mouth is watering just thinking about it!

  14. I heart the canvas!!!!

    I love your "crack bark" so maybe I can replace it with "crack broccoli"! Love your blog Shannon and your sense of humor!

  15. i luuuuuuuuuuuuuuurve the canvas. I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaant one!

    This blog is one of my favorite haunts. Can't remember how I came across it, but I am so glad I did.