Once every year or so, I treat myself to a beautiful design book. This year’s treat was Get it Together! An Interior Designer’s Guide to Creating Your Best Life, by Orlando Soria. I’ve been following him on Instagram for a while now and appreciated his use of triangles in design, his sharp humor, and his fearless vulnerability.
Orlando Soria has a unique brand. He knows his audience and his strengths and uses them well in promoting his work.
A while back, he announced his new book was coming out and that there were a limited number of signed copies. In a weak moment I clicked purchase, and then didn’t open the book for months. I brought it to Tobago and didn’t read it. You know how when you have a special treat, you have to be ready to enjoy it? Then one day in May, I cracked it open.
If you make any of your meals at home, or have gotten at sucked into the urban homesteading movement (backyard chickens, gardening, or composting?), you may have found yourself making something extraordinarily time-consuming from scratch and wondering if it was worth it. I know I have.
Make the Bread, Buy the Butter: What You Should and Shouldn’t Cook from Scratch, by Jennifer Reese of tipsybaker.com is part cookbook, part journal, and although I hate both of these words, utterly delightful.
When I was a kid, I was the girl chasing my little friends with a toad. I was fascinated by the little amphibians’ bumpy skin and soulful faces. Baby toads amazed me with their tiny details. My kids have a similar interest in natural science, although unfortunately, no toads live in our yard that I know of.
One of the things I love as much or more than toads is finding a book that either presents a new perspective of a historical event, or one that introduces a new person from history. When I discovered The Bug Girl: Maria Merian’s Scientific Vision, by Sarah Glenn Marsh, illustrated by Filippo Vanzo, it had me with the first pages inside the cover of Merian’s drawings of plants and insects.
One of my favorite prayers is, “Forgive me, Father, for my unbelief.”
I think it started as a kid when I was asking my parents about who wrote Genesis. When I found out how long after Creation it had been written, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
How could some dude who lived hundreds of years after the Creation of the earth have any accurate sense of how it had happened? It didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t care if he was inspired by God.
I have always believed deep down that science will confirm what the Bible says about how the earth was created, but when I was a kid, it was very important to evangelicals to believe in Young Earth Creationism instead of Evolution, and the two ideas were considered completely incompatible. Since then, discoveries like Mitochondrial Eve, established a much more recent beginning for humans (and confirmed we didn’t come from apes, which was one of the things I remember evangelicals being upset about).
A dear friend and a bit of a nemesis in high school confronted me with the conflicting accounts of different events in the Gospels. I bluffed my unconcern at the time, but I was horrified. If that was true, why hadn’t anyone told me?
Then a professor in college suggested that maybe God wasn’t a man.
I’ll talk about the book pictured above in a minute, but can we first talk about how it’s also a photo of a housewife reading a tawdry romance novel?
One of the hunks I’ve bitten off in the past year is shame. I want to look at how it’s showing up and how I’m dealing with it. One of the most recent examples is that I went from reading mostly historical fiction for much of my adult life, to this year reading a LOT of nonfiction, especially spirituality books.
I wasn’t giving myself a break from this type of reading and was feeling overwhelmed with my reading list and also a little burnt out. When I gave romance a try this spring as a way of giving my brain a break from the nonfiction, I felt a certain amount of shame.
