Last week I wrote about living in the land of Not Fine. While I am not ready to send out change of address cards just yet, some things have happened to lighten the load a bit.

I talked to some of the key players in the Big Issues game. We had friends over for dinner last Friday night and I brought The Crazy out in to the light. We talked about bitterness, resentment, fear and anger. We talked about growth and change, pushing through and moving on. We talked about patterns and habits, community and isolation. We talked about sin and grace and the finished work of Christ. We talked about how easy it is to talk about these things and how hard it is to live with them. We avoided writing down a 5-step plan to The Happy Place. We acknowledged that we may never have answers for all these questions.

Honestly confessing your thoughts and feelings to another person takes so much of the power away from those thoughts. I know this. I have felt the release before. Yet I am continually tucking my less than ideal thoughts back in my head, putting them away and hoping that they will somehow work themselves out before anyone finds out they exist. It never works. Sitting back there all alone, these thoughts gain power until they are controlling my whole mind. Their power multiplies and I am forced deeper in to isolation and despair. The power these thoughts possess is the power of a secret, the idea that there is something so bad in my head that I need to keep it hidden to be worthy of love, respect or friendship. By acknowledging the reality of these thoughts, I take their power away. I am able to look at them, shrug my shoulders and say, “Yep. There you are. So what?” I know this. I know this. I know this. It just takes me a long time to work up the courage to act on my knowledge.

I heard a quote the other day that went something like this, “Life wouldn’t be so hard if we didn’t expect it to be so easy.” Simple, right? It sounds like something you would see on a bumper sticker. But it is true. It is capital T True. Our expectations lie at the heart of many, if not most, of our problems - or at least at most of mine.

I have been listening to The Heart of Life by John Mayer a lot lately. It is not an amazing song, but something about the simple chorus, I know the heart of life is good has resonated with me. Yes, there are struggles. Yes, there is pain, fear, anger and hurt. Yes, circumstances are difficult and life is cruelly unfair sometimes. But there are good moments too. There is sweetness and love. There is beauty and peace. There is grace, forgiveness and hope.

I expect things to always be good, and am blindsided when my expectations are not met. I repeat this pattern again and again, and spend most of my time in a haze of disappointment and resentment. But, when I pull my head up out of the depression and look around, I realize that today, life is filled with good moments, and I will be thankful for that small gift.

My mom, Andrew, and I baked Gingerbread Men today. We used this recipe which is great (because it makes 8-10 of the absolute best gingerbread men you have ever tasted) and horrible (because it makes 8-10 of the absolute best gingerbread men you have ever tasted - and gingerbread, no matter how tasty, is not good for you).

Christmas is linked, in my mind, with baking. Spritz cookies with Grandma, gingerbread men and houses with my friend Teri, sprinkles, powdered sugar and peppermints, they all help ring in the season. I love to bake. I love to watch as dough rises until it is just right. I love to spend a few hours making something and watching the look on my family’s faces when I pull it out. I love to have a house that is full of warm smells (and, no, the sugar cookie candles are not the same). As I approached this Christmas, trying to lose weight and eat healthier, I struggled with how I would handle the baking issue. Certainly I would be doing less of it, but where to draw the line? I love baking with Andrew and I don’t want him to miss that because I can’t keep my paws off the cookie jar. But I can’t keep my paws off the cookie jar. It is a dilemma.

For now my plan is to be very careful about the amount of product my baking produces. As easy as it is to quadruple the spritz cookie recipe, I don’t need 100 left-over, buttery morsels sitting around my house. As fun as it would have been to produce an army of gingerbread men, eight (shared among four adults and a zealous toddler) will be more than enough.

My grandma, a diabetic and prodigious baker, didn’t eat many of the cookies she produced. She always said that wasn’t the point of baking. I used to laugh when she said that, popping another cookie in my mouth, now I just wish she was here so I could ask her how she did it.

The rolling pin, “it’s like a huge road roller”.

All that practice with play-doh is paying off.

The blue ones are eyes, the yellow is a button.

Mmmmmm, spicy goodness.

The finished products.

My thoughts on Bill Bryson’s The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid are up on the Book List. Go look!

It has been a busy holiday weekend.

Justin helped his sister and her family move on Thursday. Friday we had some friends over for dinner and good conversation about The Crazy. Saturday we had a small Thanksgiving at our house. Sunday is Thanksgiving dinner with Justin’s family.

So, yeah, Saturday was Thanksgiving at my house, a small group, but enough to make it feel festive. My mom made the turkey and dressing and I took care of the other side dishes. I don’t doubt my ability to cook a turkey, I just needed my oven for the squash extravaganza that I had planned.

I gave the Hamilton Squash another try (this time with enough water), but it still didn’t work. The rice stayed crunchy, I think next time I’m going to use instant rice. Argghhh! So frustrated. Still so tasty, yet so frustrated.

Thankfully, I used another Naked Chef recipe to make Spicy Roasted Squash. It was so great, done all the way through and bursting with squashy goodness.

But the best part was making pumpkin pies with Andrew.

Mmmmmm, cinnamon.

I may have created a monster by letting him crack the eggs.

Sometimes even the best bakers get off task, especially when there are race cars around.

As Andrew will tell you, he’s my best helper.

I was so excited to bake the pies, I forgot to add the evaporated milk! Luckily, I remembered before they had really started to set and I carefully mixed it in. They turned out just fine, but Andrew refused to eat it, citing his fear of the pie.

Oh well, what are the holidays without a little drama.

Last night we had some friends over for dinner and I tried a new recipe. Normally I would eschew this sort of risky behavior, but I guess I was feeling reckless. The risk paid off though, big time. This was the best new recipe by far! Tender and tasty, easy and full of things that I already had on hand. I served it with a green salad and fresh baked baguette, the cookbook suggests serving it with Roma Tomatoes, fresh basil and Italian dressing - which I’m sure would also be great (although not nearly as popular with my meat and carbohydrate crowd).

Golden Potato Coated Baked Chicken - try it soon, you won’t regret it!

I just finished The Birth House by Ami McKay. Okay, I finished it a book and a half ago, I’m just behind in writing about it. But I finally got something up, so go over to the Book List and check it out.

Throughout this most recent bout of Crazy, I have been continuing going to the gym. I like my morning routine, the quiet coldness of the pre-dawn hours, the camaraderie of the few other people who choose to show up that early to work out. We don’t talk much, just kind of grimace at each other, laugh, put our heads down and get to work. But, in our own little way, we care about each other. I missed a day last week when Justin had to work early and, when I showed up the next day, a few people asked me where I had been.

Sometimes low-level community is all you can handle.

So, yeah, I’ve been going to the gym. Running, on the other hand, is essentially nonexistent. This would not be nearly so big of a problem if I didn’t have a 5k coming up in three weeks. I could list all the circumstances that have conspired against me to keep me from running outside three times a week - childcare falling through, windstorms, sickness, sore legs. Those are all true, but I can also refute the validity of every one of those arguments - Andrew likes riding in his stroller, I own a jacket, sweat helps you get better, my legs are going to be sore either way so I might as well go for a run.

No. The circumstances do not justify the half-assed running I have been doing lately. I can only attribute it to my missing mojo.

I let my mental tenacity slip. After training for and running the Children’s 5k, I didn’t have another goal. I had more 5k’s that I planned on running, but I already knew I could complete them, because I had done the first one. And while I give a lot of lip service to my speed goals, it doesn’t actually translate to me trying to run faster. For me, running is all about finding that zone where my brain can check out and I can sail along for a period of time and then look around and not remember how I got to my current location. It’s almost as good as sleeping and it doesn’t happen when I am concentrating on running faster than I did last time.

So I am re-evaluating. Should I just push through, trying to increase distance and figure that the speed will come over time? Should I take advantage of my lack of motivation to get stronger and work on my speed on the treadmill at the gym? Should I figure out a way to do both? Should I allow myself to coast?

I trust that my running mojo will come back when the sun rises at a reasonable hour again and I can round the third corner of my route and get hit with its early morning light. I’m just not sure what to do until that happens.

I’m fine. It’s been my answer for everything lately. Sometimes, if I’m feeling verbose, I will throw in a few modifiers (see: I’ll be fine. Things will be okay. This is just a rough spot.) or, when I’m really crazy, I’ll shake it up a bit (Oh, umm, yeah. Well, things are not so great right now. I’m just working through some stuff. No. It’s nothing you can help with. No, really, I shouldn’t have even said anything.), but I always come back to Fine.

What is it about Fine that makes it such an acceptable answer? Is it just what we, as questioners, want to hear? In my world, Fine is code for, “Thanks for asking, but we both know you don’t want to get in to my head so I’ll spare us the embarrassment by bringing this conversation to a quick end.” I feast on Fine.

But, like most people, I’m not.

When you are in the middle of Not Fine, it is hard to sort out the whys and wherefores. Everything gets muddled together and you can no longer see the individual characteristics or circumstances that led you to this place. Maybe that is why we say we are Fine - we know that any other answer would bring forth such a confusing and convoluted string of nonsense that, not only would the listener run the risk of a head explosion, but there is no way you could get it back in to your own head with any sort of hope of resuming daily functionality. Maybe we are so afraid of what we might find when we explore Not Fine that we become content to keep it tucked away in our own brain, stewing and boiling, while we clench our fingers to their precarious hold of Fine.

Or maybe that’s just how it feels for me.

But, as I’m attempting to pick up the pieces from another instance of Not Fine finding its way out, I know that I need to at least try and sort it out.

Here are some of my attempts:

I am confronted at every turn with my proclivity to do the wrong thing. My struggles with food continue (I don’t even try to figure out a different way to word that anymore). I am grumpy and shy. I want to have a clear understanding of what areas of my life are my responsibility to change and what things are simply part of being human, so that I can long for change but understand that it may never come. I am dealing with it all by reading a lot of books, not talking to people and sleeping way more than I should. I think this is what some refer to as angst, or maybe an existential crisis. I’m calling it Not Fine.

The scant 9 hours of dreary daylight and constant 50 degree and rainy forecast is forcing me under my full-spectrum light in hopes of regaining sanity. This is my first winter in years without anti-depressants. I am fighting to stay off them (those side effects were killing me) but its hard to resist the guaranteed fix. I am dealing with it all by reading a lot of books, not talking to people and sleeping way more than I should. I think this is what some refer to as depression, or maybe Being A Seattle-ite. I’m calling it Not Fine.

The holidays are coming and I can already feel the pressure. People are rude and pushy, traffic is bad, stores are crowded. I want to hibernate and not come out until it is time to prune my roses. I am dealing with it all by reading a lot of books, not talking to people and sleeping way more than I should. I think this is what some refer to as stress, or maybe the downside of commercialized America. I’m calling it Not Fine.

Justin is working a lot. His company is booming and his department is busier than ever. He is assigned to two full-time projects. He may be traveling around Christmas time and he may have to skip his planned vacation. I am proud of him and thankful for this job security, but I am dreading the days that will go by without him seeing Andrew (the worst part is knowing how much he dreads it too). I am dealing with it all by reading a lot of books, not talking to people and sleeping way more than I should. I think this is what some refer to as pseudo-single-parenting, or maybe loneliness. I’m calling it Not Fine.

All of these things, and more, place me in Not Fine. But they don’t begin to touch the big issues. The big issues - bitterness, stubbornness, an unforgiving heart, criticism, neediness, anger, fear and anxiety - those are the ones that keep me from writing and using this place as an outlet for my thoughts, those are the ones that isolate me from my friends and my community, those are the ones that, if left unchecked, seem like they could keep me in Not Fine indefinitely.

But what do you do with those big issues? What do you do when those big issues weave their way through your heart and your mind and ingratiate themselves in every little issue you face? What do you do when those big issues make you blind to the truth about your circumstances and your life?

What do you do when you can see those big issues but you can’t see past them?

So, since you asked, I’m not fine. And, for those of you problem solvers out there, I have no idea what I am going to do about it, although writing this may have helped.

I guess I’ll go read my book.

Alicia and I had been watching the website for weeks. Travis was touring again, but for a long time they had no dates west of the Mississippi. Finally, we saw that they had a show in Seattle! We pulled some logistical strings, procured tickets, and headed out on Saturday night to see this band that we have loved for so long.

The show was excellent. I was reminded why Travis is more than Coldplay’s drunk younger brother - they have an X-factor. All truly interesting bands have an X-factor. Carbon Leaf has Terry, Alison Kraus and Union Station has Jerry Douglas (okay, they have a whole passel), Nickel Creek has Chris Thiele, the list could go on and on. U2 has four X-factors, that’s why they are iconic.

Travis’ X-factor is Klaus. While the rest of the band rocks out, Klaus sits behind a keyboard, Hammond B3 and a laptop, hunched over, making the magic happen.

For those of you who don’t know them, they are a great band. I think it has a lot to do with the X-factor, but their sense of humor helps too.

This is Fran and Dougie at Glastonbury in 2006

Just finished The Dead Guy Interviews by Michael Stusser, check out my review on the Book List.

Cold weather and the blues make me want to build a hot fire and read. I’ve got a big pile of library books and I’m plowing through them!

My recipe this week was for Dijon Pork Chops.

This was another one from Frozen Assets Lite and Easy: Cook for a Day and Eat for a Month by Deborah Taylor Hough. I failed to cook the pork all the way through before I froze it (because the breading was starting to burn) and I assumed I could thaw it and finish the cooking as I heated it up. This was not the case. I think, if there is a next time, I will make sure the chops are cut fairly thin and are more uniform in size. We ended up eating the small chops last night (as they were the only ones that were cooked) and the taste was good, but quite salty.

All in all, not one of my best efforts.

I finally hosted my book club for The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai. One important lesson I learned was to read the book before suggesting it for a book club. At first I thought that it wouldn’t matter what my opinion of the book was, after all, I could still discuss a book that I didn’t like, but I found that, although I could discuss a book I didn’t like, I didn’t really want to. I will take that in to consideration for future book club endeavors.

Luckily, I have five intrepid reader friends who pushed through it with me and we managed to salvage the night with some good wine and enjoyable conversation. We are not giving up on the book club quite yet, and I will announce the next selection once we decide what we are reading.

I reviewed The Inheritance of Loss over at the Book List if you are interested.

For the past few months, I have been cursing our refrigerator in more and more graphic terms. It started freezing things that were on the left side - so I carefully placed things that could not be frozen on the right. Then it refused to keep things cold no matter where they were. Finally, it practically warmed things near the top while freezing things in the drawers.

This would not do.

But this will!

My recipe for this week was Marinated Lime Chicken. An asterisk may need to be added to this entry, as I have made this recipe before so it is not entirely new. However, when I made it last year I followed the guidelines in the recipe very loosely and was not pleased with the result. This time I followed to recipe exactly and the final product met with high reviews all around. I didn’t make margaritas with it this time, but it would be really good with a margarita on a hot day.

I finally finished The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. Head on over to the Book List to see what I thought.

(My favorite part was Satan’s ball.)

This is why I love being a mom:

If you’re interested, the recipe for these yummy cookies is here, but I’m not counting it as my recipe for the week.

We went to the beach this weekend with Justin’s parents. It was so good to get away, and even better because the weather was glorious.

Cold and crisp. Perfect for running on the beach, walking the dog or eating doughnuts with fall-colored sprinkles.

We even ran in to the Zugs, who were also down for the weekend. Jen left a very creative note on our car.

(Yes, that’s a note written on a diaper. I think she was paying us back for the diaper I lent her earlier in the day - or maybe she was just out of paper.)

Good times.