Sustaining Spirituality Project

Spirituality is a sticky subject. Not because people don’t all have an opinion, but because it’s intensely intimate. After all, it’s your spirit, your soul. Do you really want to share that and have it be open to other people’s opinions? Or are you of the belief that sharing your story will help others to find their own way?

I have spent a lot of time over the years pondering spirituality.  To me, spirituality is a path to yourself, your own fulfillment and your being separate from the materialistic and physical aspect. If religion and faith assist you on this path, as it does many times, then fantastic.  If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. It is your path to walk, run or dance down.



This is the definition I like the most:

Spirituality can refer to an ultimate or an alleged immaterial reality; an inner path enabling a person to discover the essence of their being; or the “deepest values and meanings by which people live.” Spiritual practices, including meditation, prayer and contemplation, are intended to develop an individual's inner life; spiritual experience includes that of connectedness with a larger reality, yielding a more comprehensive self; with other individuals or the human community; with nature or the cosmos; or with the divine realm.  Spirituality is often experienced as a source of inspiration or orientation in life. It can encompass belief in immaterial realities or experiences of the immanent or transcendent nature of the world.

Easy, huh? Thanks Wikipedia for simplifying.

Despite the lack of general conversation about spirituality amongst people, I do speak to my friends about it fairly often.  Not to the Taco Bell drive thru guy, or my gas attendant. But my friends and I talk about our own development, our own path and our desire to achieve simplicity, clarity and contentment. It’s not been an easy path for any of us, but it’s been a necessary one.

I know not everyone will sit and take time to wonder about their own path, they will instead walk it and perhaps reflect on it years down the road. Some others will never think about it, as it may not play a role in their lives as it does mine.  But if you are one of my readers, I tend to believe you may be someone who is enlightened or looking to be. Someone who operated out of kindness, empathy and a desire to be better and see the world be a better place.

All of my life, I have gravitated towards people who have a strong spiritual and passionate side.  People who want more. More answers, more happiness, more goodness.  I’ve been lucky enough to walk my path along side of some of these people every day, while others come, stay and fall away and meet up with me again further down the road.  Because of how lucky I’ve been, I’ve decided to share them in the Sustaining Spirituality Project.

No two friends of mine share the same outlook on their spirituality. There’s no right answer, and a million passages to take. It’s almost like a chose your own adventure book. Only you select which page to turn to, and how your story ends.  I will be sharing my own path after my first few guest bloggers share theirs.  

My first guest blogger on spirituality is my dear friend Esme.  Esme and I have known each other for years, we worked together. She was fairly young when we met, growing into her own.  And every year after, she’s continued to grow. Not everyone does this, many people never evolve. They decide they like who they are at 23, and stay there. They don’t learn lessons, look at themselves honestly or try to achieve any more. That’s okay, that’s their path.  But it certainly wasn’t Esme’s. 

Please take a moment to read it with an open heart.  I value your feedback, feel free to let me know your own take on spirituality and life journeys.  

You only get one path to forge for yourself; you might as well dance down it, bedazzle it and set it aflame while you’re there.  

Without further ado, my friend Esme on spirituality…

 

Spirituality is a deeply personal experience, and hard to explain, because everyone’s experience of it is different.

When Michelle asked me to write about spirituality, I’m sure she thought I’d be the perfect person to talk about it. I’m involved in spiritual practices such as yoga and meditation, and have been since she’s known me (which as been for almost 8 years). She knows I’ve overcome a few personal struggles. And that I contemplate the deeper meaning of life. But I’m having a really hard time coming up with anything. I keep thinking, “Who cares what I have to say about this?” I’m terrified to reveal too much.

This is a theme that keeps showing up for me recently: telling my truth. Do people want to hear it? Do they care? Talking about spirituality requires tapping into what truly makes you who you are. It’s light as much as it is darkness. It’s joy as much as it is sorrow. It’s fear as much as it is courage. It’s an inner voice; an inner knowing. In short, I think its one’s soul. How do you reveal your soul in just four paragraphs? And to perfect strangers no less? I don’t know how to talk about it without telling my life story.

In January 2011, I made a decision that commenced what I believe was just the first step to being true to myself. Practically overnight, I left my relationship, my job, my apartment, my life, and I moved home to where I grew up. To everyone around me, it looked like I was moving backwards. For the first time though, I knew I was doing the right thing, and I didn’t care if other people agreed.

Spirituality, to me, is the experience of knowing who you are, without needing others to know you, or approve of you. One of my favorite spiritual teachers is Deepak Chopra, who says, “In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.” It’s contentment in the face of uncertainty. It’s also contentment in the experience of bliss. It’s inner peace.

To close, as the Desiderata found in St. Paul’s Cathedral in 1662 states, “You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; and you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with your God, whatever you conceive him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusions of life, keep peace in your soul. With its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world.”

Peace and love.

Dont Cry Because It's Over, Smile Because It Happened.

I have been the Queen of Cliche's this weekend. I have used the phrase "stop and smell the roses!" about ten times, and I actually met stop right here. And smell those damn roses. Those right next to you that you were about to breeze right by.

I am spending the weekend on Cape Cod and today took the ferry over to Martha's Vineyard.  I've been to the Vineyard dozens of times, and I'm blessed to have family up on the Cape to visit while I'm here. I was raised coming to the Cape to see them, lucky me. And lucky me that I actually like them, and immensely enjoy their company. They are a dazzling group of intelligent women, four female cousins here on the Cape this weekend (one is in from Japan and I've seen all but one so far) plus my Aunt, and then there's the poor guy thrown in the mix (my Uncle) who is so used to living with all that estrogen it doesn't faze him at all no matter the conversation topic.  I got to hang out with two of my cousins yesterday, as well as visit with my aunt and uncle. I also got to tag along to the Barnstable County Fair, with my cousins daughter and my other cousins step-daughter and had a splendid time hanging out with two teen girls who aren't mine!  They actually deemed me "the coolest" mom (other than theirs, I'm sure) to hang out with. And even told me if I was their mother, they'd even introduce me to their friends! I think that's a big deal, because apparently mothers of teen girls are trolls who are to hide in the basement and never meet their teen daughters friends?



Anyhow, as I said I went to the Vineyard today and for the first time ever, rented a car once I landed on the island. Normally, I take the jitney they have there all around the island and site see that way. But this time, I got fancy and rented a cute little convertible and zipped to every single beach point. And drove virtually every road. And stopped at every single place I wanted.  Because I can't normally do that, as the jitney driver does not appreciate being tapped on the shoulder and asked to stop every time I see an antiques store. Trust me on this. It makes them crabby.



But this day was different. I had the sun on my face, the wind making a rats nest of my hair with salty air (totally fine by me), listening to fine music and driving along the coast. We stopped off in Edgartown, which is my favorite of the points, and ate a leisurely lunch of lobster rolls and white wine.  I got to go to every store that I normally skip out of fear that my kids will break something. And you know what? I bought nothing kid related. And I don't even feel guilty. This was an adult day. Right after I declared that, we drove right over to Oak Bluffs and ordered huge sundaes complete with rainbow sprinkles. And watched the carousel at Flying Horses. Who ever declared those to be kid things, anyway?



But my point, and I do have one, was that this was a perfect day.  It rained on the way over, on the ferry, but I didn't care. I was making the most of it. My attitude could not be rained on. And once I hit the island, the sun came out and it smelled green and salty and life was just....good. Great. Perfect even. And there is my question. Are you someone who recognizes when you're having a perfectly happy moment? Or day? I havent always been, but I surely am now. When I can look around and know that my kids are safe and happy, even without me for a weekend, and I can enjoy being free and impulsive and get back to the basics of what makes me....me.  I'm not much good to my kids otherwise, right?



So I sincerely hope you do take the time to smell the roses that are growing up that white picket fence on your right, peaking their faces out at you waiting for you to take notice.  They wont be there forever, they wont even be there blooming in a month or so. So do it. Today.

And one last thing... I was at the cliffs in Aquinnah and stopped at a little store overlooking the ocean. They had a ton of those little wooden signs full of clichés that I love so much. But one caught my eye.  This is what it said, check it out, along with those roses:

My Un-fun Weekend, and some very fun links.

I started my weekend off well enough. I was feeling slightly under the weather, but was attending a Keith Urban concert for my daughter's birthday so I was certainly going to go. I gave her the tickets in February, on her 13th birthday, and she actually cried in front of the whole family. Clearly, this was a big deal and I wasn't going to miss it!  So off we went, into the city to watch Keith Urban and Jake Owen, both of which put on a fantastic show. And my "take away" from this show? It was, "God help me when a long-haired, guitar playing man walks into her life". She obviously has her mothers taste in men. Greeeeeeeeaaaaaat.

By Saturday morning, I was feeling very, very unwell and kind of sweaty. Given that I am normally the coldest person in the room everywhere I go, this worried me. But it was my nephews birthday, so I couldn't bail out. Off I went to the park. And had a lovely time, other than the fact that swallowing was becoming increasingly difficult and it occurred to me on several occasions to throw myself into the lake to cool down. No Swimming signs be damned.  Finally, I tapped out and headed home. Where I discovered I had a fever hovering around 102.5. And I instantly fell into a coma like state, leaving me to wonder the next morning how I woke up in something completely different then what I went to sleep in.

Sunday, I finally decided once my fever got to 103.5 that it was time for the hospital. Despite my 5 pound weight loss, I couldn't see a good reason to put it off.  I got there, I sat there for four hours, and they told me I had a sever virus for which they could do nothing. And they told me to continue to quarantine myself to my bedroom, until my fever has been gone for a day. No dice today, as I woke up with a fever. And you know, I always thought it would be relaxing to stay in my room for a few days. Not so much. In fact, its way less fun than I thought it would be. Maybe I thought I'd relax, there would be gorgeous men with large fans fanning me, feeding me grapes?  So far, none of those have materialized. But send them over, should you find some. Thanks.

Since I've been out of touch lately due to vacation and now this, I wanted to at least share with you some of my favorite websites. A few of my standing favorites are on the right, Pioneer Woman and the Experiment. Both written by inspiring and witty women. Here's a few more that you may enjoy:

http://retropolitanhip.blogspot.com/    I love, love, love this site. You have to check it out. I think she's brilliant.  She also gives great tutorials that are easy to follow.

http://www.copycatcrafts.com/  The site is described as the place to find DIY tutorials to create designer duds & decor on a budget. If you're a resourceful gal with swanky style on a thrifty budget, then this site is for you!

http://www.twopeasandtheirpod.com/  Wonderful site by an adorable husband and wife. They have awesome recipes! Check them out.

http://bleedingespresso.com/about  My girlfriend Chandra over at the Earthfood Experiment recommended this to me.  This girl knows me, because I love the site. 

http://awaytogarden.com/  This site is maintained by the woman who ran Martha Stewart Living for years. She walked away from the job, convinced she would find simplicity and peace in the woods of the Berkshires. She wrote a great book, and the website is equally fantastic.



 

Have a great day, readers. Great things are coming, including a blog page redo and some exciting topics and giveaways!!

Embracing our past and weaving it into our future...Grandparents

When I was younger, there were certain things that we just did because "back then", it's what people did.  Playing outside when the weather was nice, tv was a no no. Fought and made up with our neighbors who were our age and our best friends.  Went to church. Sneaked peaks on the neighbors tv to watch MTV, which was totally new. Went to see my grandmothers on the weekends.  And this last part, I remember vividly. First because my grandmothers were very different women, and secondly because they were both strong personalities. And  lastly because my parents valued the time they had left with their mothers, and knew it was important for us to have that time as well.

Both parents had lost their fathers before I came along.  We would visit my moms mother, who would treat us to Neapolitan ice cream in army green bowls. Isn't it strange what we remember? She was also the first one to ever gift me with a pair of high heels, which was when I was about 8 and they were brown braided leather. And Im fairly certain my sisters threw them away at some point because they were tired of hearing me clop around in them.  But my grandmom "Z" had great clothes and accessories, and beautiful skin and a saucy sense of humor.

My grandmom "W" lived in the house my dad was raised in, and I can't imagine her living anywhere else. She raised her children in that house, and even in her older years continued to tend to her beautiful gardens, feed the stray animals around her house and support her neighbors. She cooked and delivered food to needy neighbors well into her 70's and when she couldn't drive, we took her to make her deliveries. She read many books, and had a bookcase that I sat next to and paged through regularly. She collected National Geographics, and could never seem to throw them out. Much like me! And she drew, and wrote and told stories about the ranch she grew up on.

And now, I watch  my parents as grandparents. It's a role they take seriously. My mother watches over her grandchildren like she did us, and my mother and father work hard to instill values and manners in their grandchildren. My father has taken on the role of father figure to his grandsons, as their biological fathers are not around very much. This is no easy task, I'm sure, as they are both just as wild and stubborn as my father was when he was a child.



Recently, I've been watching a beloved friend go through the loss of her grandmother. Her grandmother is still with us, but she is now in hospice. And even for me, who always has an overabundance of things to say, I'm very much at a loss sometimes. I remember losing my grandmothers even though I was a young teen when it happened.  And since I was young, the hardest part of losing them was watching the pain my parents went through.  I don't know how well I grasped loss at that point, so watching my strong parents go through the daily struggle of my grandmothers illnesses and then the eventual death, it was devastating.

Every day of our lives, time marches right past us. And almost every day, when time marches past it takes our history with it while we make new history.  And this is history we will never know about unless we ask while our loved ones are here.  I plead with you that you take the time to spend with your grandparents, if you're blessed to still have them, and to encourage time between your children and your parents.  And to take the time to ask questions about how your grandparents met, what was their passion, their greatest loves? In family history, you will undoubtably find comfort and most of the time, you'll figure out where you fit. And you just may be surprised to hear what real people they have been in their lifetime, what kind of teenager they were or what kind of hell they raised.

 Take the time to hold someones hand when they need it, and be brave when they need you to be.  Try to slow that time down as it marches by. Not by holding onto the past, but by weaving your families past into your present and your own future. 

When my Uncle passed after being in hospice, I struggled immensely with my feelings and how to properly express them. And one day I found this poem, which I've shared with close friends in the past. It gave me hope and comfort when I needed it.  I hope it does the same for you when you need it.

And for my friend, you are immensely brave. You are strong and beautiful and everything your grandmother would want you to be. I'm proud to be your friend every day. XOXO

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

The Garden and the Girlfriend...

In addition to an eye level pile of dishes in m kitchen sink, I came home to a beautiful garden. Now, I don't recall how those dishes got there before vacation, but I do remember how these plants got there.  I started my garden years ago, and spend all winter plotting it out.  It's honestly what gets me through the winters, I sit down with my garden planner (a book, not a person) and get to work. So when the proof of my hard work actually manifests, it's makes me supremely happy and satisfied.  Not to mention, home grown food is much more tasty and convenient! Right in my back yard, for goodness sake.

For the two weeks I was gone, my girlfriend and her family tended to my garden. This wouldn't be a big deal, except that my girlfriend excels in all things CITY. You know, she knows the best places to go in the city, how to get onto a list at the right club, who's who. She loves taking cabs, waking up to big buildings all around her, the noise that is everywhere in the city.  Kind of....everything that I dislike about the city.  I love the silence of my suburb, even more the total silence out West. I love seeing no buildings, only sky and mountains. I would rather ride a horse than in a cab.  She and I choose to overlook each others "short comings" and love each other anyway.  And this year, she is growing a container garden. It's done very, very well.  So she very kindly took over my garden. I think what I forgot to tell her is that my garden is magic. Thats right, folks. Magic. It will look like it's suffering (as it did when I left) and then all of a sudden, everything grows with an intensity and speed that makes you feel like you will have vines wrapping around your ankles and keeping you there if you stay long enough. I think that's happened to me a couple of times.

She informed me that my beets were ready, though she didn't know what to do with them and she did not want suggestions. I said juice them, she told me to forget about it. No way was she juicing something that grew in dirt, came out covered in dirt and, even washed, smells and tastes faintly like dirt.  



 My corn, before harvest and after.

 



And my flowers:











 



 





 

And as a bonus question....can you name this flower/plant? Scroll down....



 

Give up yet? Garlic. Who'd a thunk it.  I hope you have a friend to depend on that will submerge herself in dirt, pull your weeds, and overcome her disdain for snakes to tend to your garden so that you can enjoy yourself on the other side of the county. That's what life is all about.

Enjoy the glorious summer day! Remember to look for beauty in the small things.

You are the company you keep... and since I'm my own best friend, we're clearly both nuts.

I know that many people take vacations to the beach and plant themselves in the sand with a cold drink. Or perhaps a cruise. Or Disney. I haven’t done any of those things on vacation in many years.  Or ever.

I have adopted a different form of vacation that I can only describe as a spiritual exploration. I spend most of my time talking and listening. Or quietly reflecting and renewing my spirit. I look forward to this all year, for obvious reasons.

As I’ve mentioned, people are baffled when I tell them that I head right for Nebraska the second my vacation weeks begin.  And I guess I would be too if I didn’t know the value that waits there.

My time in Nebraska allows me to take a truly relaxing vacation. I get no cell service, so that’s one piece of technology checked off my list. I’m rarely inside, which checks off the news and TV. My laptop is ridiculously slow with its internet connection and it’s infuriating, which checks off my last piece of technology. This does, however, make me a crappy vacation blogger.

It also allowed me to spend quality time with my best friend and her family. This is a bit peculiar because in everyday life, she lives a short 20 minutes from me, and yet we drive 22 hours before we’re finally able to relax and spend very valuable time together. Better later then never! I also spend time with her in-laws, who I adore. They have great advice on relationships, parenting and everything before and after. And they never dress it up to make it pretty; they tell it like it is. I refer to this as “not blowing smoke up my ass”.  Feel free to use that.  And lastly, I got to enjoy time with my long distance friend, who I met last year. And this year, our time together cemented why we’re friends and why I feel we’ll continue to be for a long time to come.

I’ve definitely realized that in my present life I’ve surrounded myself with women who inspire and push me to be better and to stay authentic. And they all do this by being the same way. I don’t know that there are many things in life better than being able to say that you’ve got inspiring and true friends who love you for you: the good, the bad and the ugly.



Lastly, I spent a lot of time with me, especially when I took my side trip to the Colorado Rockies.  And maybe at one point of my life, that would have terrified me. Not now. Time spent alone provides me with the opportunity to take in everything that I’ve seen and to process all that I’ve heard.  There was a time when I wouldn’t take anyone’s advice. When my parents and my sister and friends would pull me aside to attempt to talk a lick of sense into me.  I can honestly tell you that I didn’t take any of it. But maybe my desire to take my own, hard headed way made it so that eventually, I got tired of taking all the lumps myself. Now I try to be keenly aware that other people, specifically the people I respect and admire, have more than enough life lessons to tell me about. And now, I listen with an open ear and an open heart.

My wish for you would be that if you’re not there already, that you do two things: the first is to be your own best companion. There is no one that will be more honest with you, if you’re willing to see the harsh truth along with the love you should have for yourself. No one should love you more than you love yourself.  If you lose the balance in your life, you’ll quickly become your own worst enemy instead of your own best friend.  So while I jokingly say I'm a little nuts in this post title,  I do say it with love!

And secondly, open yourself to others. I don’t mean to sit and smile through your conversations only to ignore their words later. And even if it’s during a conversation, rather than them giving you direct advice, there are kernels of wisdom to be taken from virtually every in-depth conversation you have with someone you respect. And really, even if you’re talking to someone you think is a dope; at least you could be learning how you DON’T want to be.   

I thank you, as always, for giving me time and your support. And I leave you with this next quote, which is my subtle hint into what my next post will be about:

 Spirituality is the awareness that survival is the savage fight between you and yourself.

- Anonymous

 

The Gifts We Pass Down to Our Children

I’ve spent a lot of time today thinking about what we pass down to the young ones around us. Today I took the kids shopping in Leadville, CO. It’s very historical, with a deep history in mining. Almost all of the houses and buildings date to 1880 at least, and at one time, Leadville was the wealthiest city in the states. It had brothels, casinos, saloons, opera houses and so many shops you couldn’t even count. You know, the kind of city that seemed like a whole lotta fun. They even sell brothel coins here, historical replicas of actual coins, for a whole night of “fun”.



Present day Leadville is a real mix between history and new funk. The 1880 houses have been bought and revived by ambitious young new comers, but yet there is the culture and respect for the older people and the town’s culture and history. Everyone knows each other, and greets one another by their first name. One of the stores I stumbled into had a section for old fashioned candy, which I course ran right over to. And while I was browsing, I got knocked right into my childhood. I spied a small metal tin with a beautiful girl printed on it. The tin was full of small candies that were lavender flavored. Which I know would cause some people to wonder about them, and truth be told I don’t love the flavor. But I snatched a tin up because my grandmom had these when I was a kid and the sight of them instantly made me smile.



She was a very simple woman, not frivolous or silly by any stretch. So when I used to go to her house and see this pretty little tin or the small wooden toys she kept tucked away, or the paper dolls she kept for years, I knew that she found joy in the small things. I gather many of them reminded her of her upbringing out West, where she grew up simply and with imagination. And she appreciated when she got a toy or a gift, because they were few and far between.



All these years later, I find myself in a constant struggle with materialistic America, which is probably what has me writing this blog from a picnic table in Colorado. Because rather than give my children every materialistic request (of which, they have many, but they’re learning) I would rather give them memories. Sure, they got spending money on this trip, but not much and what they got they had to earn. And once it was gone, it was gone. So I figure I give them two gifts: the gift of learning responsibility and also the actual gift.

That is what I hope to leave with my children. That they can see that I try to live by example and cherish the small things as my grandmother did. I promised myself a long time ago that throughout my travels, I wouldn’t buy anything for my house or for me that didn’t hold value of some sort, sentiment in particular.

Hopefully, years down the road, the kids will continue to travel and will do so with their own kids. And I hope when they stumble upon something small and pretty, maybe something turquoise and silver or with a dream catcher, they’ll think of me and remember our trips and time we spent together. I know I won’t forget it.

Bad Blogger...Im smacking my own hand. Oh, and a pasta salad recipe to make up for it.

I had every intention of being a much better blogger while on vacation. As you may have noticed, it has not worked out that way! For most people, I suppose 25-30 hours in a car would provide a wealth of writing time but not for me. That Wanderlust part of my blog title didn't come out of the blue. I have a severe case, and always have. So driving in the car, I love nothing more than hanging my feet out the window, reading a book or magazine and smiling. I like smiling. It's my favorite.

But if you think all I have been doing is lying on a dock by a lake with a glass of wine in my hand... you'd be right. Well, for about 90% of the time. I spend another 5% cooking and another 5% floating on the lake instead of lying next to it. 

About that cooking part...just in time for the Fourth, I've got a yummy recipe for pasta salad. Its got no mayo, which deters a lot of people. Its easy and fast, just make sure you chill it for a few hours and also salt it adequately, it's crucial. I substituted the feta with a feta-styled goat cheese, it was mahhhhvalousssss.

• 12 ounces, weight Farfalle (bowtie) Pasta


• 4 Tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil


• 1 whole Lemons (more To Taste)


• Salt


• Freshly Ground Black Pepper


• 2 whole Zucchini, Cut Into Small Wedges Or Diced


• 10 ounces, weight Grape Tomatoes, Halved Lengthwise


• 1/3 cup Minced Fresh Parsley


• 6 ounces, weight Crumbled Feta Cheese

Preparation Instructions

Cook pasta until done. Drain and rinse in cold water until completely cool. Add olive oil and lemon juice, then add salt and pepper to taste (do not undersalt). Toss to combine. Add zucchini, tomatoes, parsley, and feta, and toss to combine. Add more of what you think it needs; you're the one that has to eat it!  Squeeze in a little more lemon juice/drizzle more olive oil if it needs more moisture.

Cover in plastic wrap for at least a couple of hours. Pasta is best when chilled for a few hours before serving.

 

Hope you're enjoying the holiday weekend!

XOXO,

Your bad blogger.

 

Night Out in Lincoln at Dish with Friends and Laughs

Our vacation happens to coincide with Best Friends birthday, so we luckily found ourselves able to stay the night in Lincoln. I've been to Lincoln, and I dig it. I love the nicely manicured houses, the cleanliness and the friendliness.  And I adore my friend Chandra, who lives there, and her boyfriend Justin. I met Chandra last year on my one night in Lincoln, you may recall that I wrote about her before. She's the one who sparkles. She still sparkles, you'll be glad to know. I was just sweaty (but renamed it "luminous") because we were sitting outside and it was blazingly hot. Is that a word? I don't know, but I like it.

We decided for Kristi's birthday to have dinner at DISH in Lincoln with Chandra, Justin and Kristi's brother and sister in law (Ryan and Katy) as well as Katy's boyfriend Mario. They're new parents. They were enjoying themselves, but you could tell they missed their girl. It was nice to watch them as young parents and remember what that was like.

The company was outstanding, and the food was fantastic. I'd recommend it, though when it's blazingly hot you may want to choose indoor seating. Or you could melt into a puddle outside like I did. But at least I was a well dressed puddle. For those of you that I don't know personally, I'm the redhead. And from the left is Chandra, me, Kristi and Katy.   Katy lives in Austin and Chandra in Nebraska, so I felt very blessed to be able to enjoy a night out with these awesome people.

The service at Dish was very attentive, we had a redhead waitress so I liked her automatically. Plus, she brought me extra pita for the awesome hummus (tahini and spicy blue cheese, below). Who doesn't love someone how comes bearing pita?





I also got peer pressured into trying my very first olive. Yes people, I said my first. And I didn't even gag, I even kind of liked it. But I am very much like a horribly oversized child when it comes to trying new things, and it took an embarrassing amount of talking and convincing to get me to do it. But I did, and I promised to not run so fast past the antipasto counter at my food store from now on.  Generally, I walk quickly by and make a gagging face. I suppose it's due time for me to grow up. At least when it comes to antipasto.



I followed my olive up with the fried chicken (thanks to Justin's recommendation) that came with mashed potatoes and sautéed green beans. It was outstanding, and I would absolutely recommend it. I have started to refer to myself as the Mashed Potato Maven, given the bordering-on-repulsive amount of mashed potatoes I consume. But in addition to the potatoes, the breading on the chicken was very well done. And this, my friends, is not my strong point. Breading and I do not get along. So anytime I see it done well, it makes me want to congratulate the person right before holding them hostage while demanding they show me the correct way to bread.



And because I was so impressed, I took a close up.



Justin got the mango duck. Since his girlfriend is also a blogger, I didn't even have to ask him to wait so that I could get a picture of his meal. He just knew, I think he's developing a sixth sense for when he's about to be interrupted so that someone can take a picture to post.



Katy selected the chicken, and even cut and displayed it artfully (probably without even knowing it). She is an artist, after all.



And a couple of the boys decided upon the steak and fries. Errr.... I mean the pomme frites.



Again, should you find yourself in Lincoln, or live there, I'm giving DISH a big thumbs us. Plus, I got to break bread (did I mention there was bread? Carb overload on this meal!) with  wonderful people, and went to bed that night knowing how lucky I am for have great old friends, and being able to make new friends around each new turn.