just call me martha.

You guys.

Something is happening to me.

Something involving recipes and careful preparation and one small finger cut and many, many dishes (lord, why so many dishes?). 

Something with organized closets and never before used kitchen gadgets and goodies like Starbucks cards found in newly cleaned, old purses. 

Something eerily...domestic. 

Be warned: you may not wish to read this post if you're even the slightest bit hungry, or have an aversion to Martha Stewart-esque women...

You see, in the past week alone, I've produced homemade (and flavorful) crock pot marinara, vanilla almond granola, and peanut butter (!!...never going back to Jiff, for reals) to be jarred and used in the following days.

I've mastered juicy, skillet pork chops with sweet onion, sweet potato, and honeycrisp apples.

I've whipped up "light" apple crisps for my friends to enjoy at brunch in my home, simultaneously satisfying their sweet tooth's while making our bungalow smell delightfully like the inside of pie.

I've ripped out recipes from magazines, made specific and non-wasteful grocery lists, and pined over homesteading blogs wishing I, too, could have farm fresh eggs from a coup out back. I've even daydreamed about the possibility of a few chickens lovingly kept in our alleyway, but conceded our neighbor William Sonoma would likely crush this dream before the city or occasional raccoon did.

And yes, those would be mustache shaped beer bottle toppers hanging above my spoils, because nothing makes sharing a brew with a friend more fun than them "wearing" a mustache with each sip...

Not pictured? "Healthy" chocolate chip cookies (baked for B on his first day of school, as per the loving tradition of my Marm), sweet potato and goat cheese frittata, tortellini soup, zucchini pasta with kale pesto, handmade turkey burgers served with an avocado salad, and so much more.

With my Otis Redding Pandora station and a glass of red wine or hot tea with lemon (depending on the time of day, as I'm not yet *that* kind of housewife) to keep me company, this sort of traditional, mama bear living has never been more appealing or satisfying. 

Granted, I have way more time now than in recent history to actually spend in our kitchen. But even during past funemployment periods, I've tended to struggle with any motivation towards "keeping house". So much so, in fact, that if you asked anyone in my family about my history of avoiding kitchen work they will each tell you a version of the same story: how often I suddenly was all "sorry, gotta use the restroom" when it came time for chores.

Now? I like having a hot meal ready for B when he comes home from his extremely long days at work & school. I like making sure our laundry is done and our pillows hypo allergenic and our errands run in a timely manner. I liked doing my taxes the very day my W-2 arrived and I like scheduling coffee dates and pilates dates and rhythm and motion dance class dates, whatever the hell that is.

I'm thrilled at the freedom to accept offers to house sit and once again work in my beloved Jenny's shop. I'm excited to turn our brown media shelving white (speaking of Jenny -- hey crafty girl hey, you up for a shabby chic'ing night? please save me from myself here), and to work on small projects using bits of my creativity that have been dormant for years.

Is this the way I'll choose to live the rest of my life? Is this the apron clad path I've been looking for, and am destined to travel? I don't know. Probably not. But it's kind of cool to know that I ultimately don't have to gun-to-my-head choose anytime soon...or really, at all. My god, who wants to think so seriously? I'm (we're) blessed to live in a time where, women in particular, can be and do so very many things at varying stages...moments!...of life. We've always had this ability within us, of course, as the powerful and wild goddesses we are. But there seems to be greater energy in the ability to change our minds, try new things, play many roles, or even play just one. Whatever feels right. It's all good. Can you imagine that? It's ALL good.

I recently had a conversation with a coaching client -- a dynamic and absolutely magical woman -- about her word for the year: surrender. I loved this for many reasons, and reflected on the meaning of this word in my own life right after our call. Surrendering to the good of the Universe is like saying "So, this is the way my life is at the moment. It's not definitively better or worse, but it is different. It's not what I had anticipated , but it is changing me, growing me, stretching me. OK. I will cease resistance. I trust the process. I surrender, and I trust". It's not giving up, but it is allowing for sacred space to do its thang. 

Pretty powerful stuff.

I mean, just look at Martha for gosh sake! Homegirl has played many roles and worn many hats over the years -- including one to match a bright orange jumpsuit and an ankle tracking device. And she ended up the queen of her empire, once again!

I'm just sayin.

OK, off to prepare some spaghetti squash, surrender, and move closer towards becoming the queen of my empire.

You'll think about it too, yea?


love and light,

Trish