Life is learning. Learning is life. Here are a few new things I encountered in the last few months — the silly, the serious, and everything in between.
Present Over Perfect served as a Pilgrim at Tinker Creek for my soul, an invitation into “… the sacred risky act of being exactly who you are — nothing more nothing less.” I took pages of notes and plan to re-read it next fall as a marker to see if I’ve grown a little more present, a little less anxious.
This chicken tortilla soup recipe is a new favorite around here. Quick, easy, super tasty, and Crock-Pot-able.
Speaking of recipes, this is the one I used for my turkey on Thanksgiving. It was the fastest, easiest, moistest turkey I’ve ever made. It freed me up to run a 10K at 9:00am, get the turkey in the oven at 11:30am, and have the food on the table at 3:00pm.
Over Thanksgiving break, I took my boys to Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, an “immersive art experience… a unique combination of children’s museum, art gallery, jungle gym, and fantasy novel” set up in an abandoned bowling alley. There’s a kind of “don’t talk about it, you have to experience it for yourself” vibe around the place, so much so that before we got there, the boys and I discussed what we’d heard about the refrigerator inside. All we knew was you could walk through it. There’s a story to discover and explore — kind of like a mystery to solve, but one that’s open-ended. If you go, be sure to check out the mailbox, read the newspaper in the kitchen, and look in the toilet on the second floor (!). Oh, and find Emerson’s will in the study nook. I just discovered this fun website connected to the story. Santa Fe artists, you are one of a kind.
I love this idea that a main character’s mistaken belief drives plot. I checked it against my three novels, and yep. It’s there, without me realizing it.
I think too much. My personality type describes it as “the relentless tug of self-absorption.” When applied to my writing, it freezes me. Thanks to Valerie Geary (who’s always teaching me something) for encouraging me to set my thoughts aside and get to work.
We had a very dry, very hot summer. Seeing little blades of grass sprout on our lawn’s burned patches makes me over-the-top happy, like a proud mama-gardener-farmer.
I’ve never understood the idiom “whole cloth,” but after encountering it a couple times this fall, I figured it was time to finally look it up. It means “A complete fabrication. A lie with no basis in the truth.”
What have you learned this fall? Click through to Emily P. Freeman’s blog to read more.