Do one more healthy thing today than you did yesterday. It could be as little as a few moments of introspection into your motives and drives. Or as much as pushing yourself to move one mile further. Or to finally begin tweaking your favorite recipes.
Park further away from your office and walk the extra distance. Drink one less pop, or pour half of it out. Smoke one less cigarette. Take two bites of the cookie and save the rest until later. Go to bed 15 minutes earlier. Set your alarm for 15 minutes earlier and use the time to sit and sip and read your Bible, pray, or prepare for dinner. Stretch. Hit the snooze alarm one less time. Prep vegetables for snacks in small containers or within easy reach.
I read an article about self-control and self-discipline a while ago. It mentioned the importance of making small decisions to help encourage you to go for bigger things that seem overwhelming right now. It's like if you say yes to yourself you become your own cheerleader. Every bit of control you take over your own life encourages you to take that next step.
The reverse is true, too. I've found that when I want to fall into laziness or a funk, it's so easy to let it snowball. Maybe the best thing you can do today is to decide you can be lazy in one area but not the others that always seem to go along with it. Allow yourself that today, but tomorrow, do one more healthy thing for yourself than you did the day before. See if healthy choices don't begin to become contagious in other areas of your life.
The weekend 
adventures included a trip to Iowa's Antique City.
Walnut, Iowa has many charming little antique shops. But once a year, this tiny city overflows with antiques. I mean overflows. Something like 300+ vendors line two main streets and span three or four blocks (trust me, you lose count after awhile) of tables and booth after booth of some impressive stuff. From tools, to massive oak furniture, to signs, kitchenware and marbles, Walnut had a little bit of everything. 
Last year was my first year. This year won't be my last. My green shelf looks terrific in the kitchen...and my mom bought me the adorable (and functional -- it's full of storage containers) chicken box. (Shout out...THANKS, MOM!) She scored a little red wagon, a wicker end table, and two large metal bushel baskets.
Our buddy nailed a wheelbarrow, a red wagon, a commer
cial sized five loaf bread pan, and a sled. And get this. Every last one of those items and the few miscellaneous things like a disk blade, yard stick and yard ornaments fit (with three people) in a Honda Element.
Pictures:
This quaint little event has guys on horseback directing the massive influx of cars. A sliver of what the scene looks like. A handful of the items we scored (snapped while two of us were getting the "big" stuff from vendors who were holding it) and the lucky backseat guardian/contortionist. A good time was had by all. My new shelf unit with chicken box (box, not pox).
My 93-year- old grandmother discovered that she kind of likes a good pedicure. So. For the combination birthday and Mother's Day gift for both Grandma and my Mom, I treated the ladies to a pedicure. (I have to admit that I had one too. And 24 joined the party. Ahhh. So nice. The amazing massage chair, an extended time soaking and relaxing, I'm telling you, it's better than a pan of brownies to rearrange my mood...whoa, what if I took a Mocha Soy Latte and some of those amazing brownies I blogged about a few weeks ago to my next pedicure? They might not ever get me out of there.) (The cat and toe pictures are my cute little orangey toe with the lovely white flower, Feral feigned indifference and made a nice background, but then he turned on me.)
Sorry. I digress.
The ladies who treated our toes so fabulously wanted to add a little sass so we all got nail art. Pictured are my 93-year-old Grandma's toes in all
their kick-hiney passion pink glory. Ha. 24 took a picture so she could send it to my dad who could blow it up big enough for Grandma to actually see.
She doesn't see well...but she remembers everything I've ever said or done. Which she reminded me of on the way out the door when she threatened to spank me because I gave her hand cream for a gift.
At one point she looked over at me and said..."Is that gray in your hair?" I laughed out loud, would have rolled on the floor laughing, but thought it would be rude. "Well, Grandma, yes, been going that direction for quite awhile. I prefer silver." My mom looked at me. " I guess it's official." The consensus is that when a blind grandmother notices the gray in your hair, you are officially gray....errrr silver.
Never, Never, Never
Never give up...
on the important things.
I just had a reminder of that after spending the evening with someone I loved enough to step out of the way of the consequences of her choices. Only after agonizing over doing just that, and weeping and praying and begging her to learn before she had to learn the hard way. And you know what? Some of those consequences hit like freight trains.
But, something else happened, too. She is deciding to stand up, brush herself off, and, I think, has learned something from each of those hits. That is powerful. And humbling. Because part of me wondered if anything would ever penetrate.
There are things and relationships that are pursuits that are too costly in the long run. Things that drain us of our time, resources and lifeblood. What drains you? Sucks the joy out of your soul? Maybe it's time to let it go.
But there are things and relationships that are worth fighting for. Your covenant relationships, your integrity and character, your soul-mates (the ones you share your journey with... you know who they are) your health, your future, your eternity.... those are pursuits that are worth wrestling matches, sacrifices, and the truth.
Go to a corner, take a breather and a few swigs of cold water. Stand up, get back into the ring and never give up.Who do you need to tell the truth to? What do you need to do today to fight for your future, your hope, your dream? One step at a time, take one today.
I learned a valuable lesson on the farm yesterday.
I can't claim that my mistake was from sun spots in my eyes or brain adlepation from heat exposure. The temperature was perfectly mild and reasonable...unseasonably cool.
I suppose it could have been a subconscious drive...since I don't love the vegetable which received my messed-up good intentions.
24 picked peas for an hour. A co-volunteer also picked...but she started even earlier. Three (wo)man hours picking peas. Whew. The net? Over 30 pounds. Trust me. That is a whole lot of green stuff. While they were picking peas I harvested Swiss Chard and Kale. A bunch of it. And some radishes, and yanked some weeds. Found a few good Lady Bugs and cheered them on. (Lady Bugs...not Asian Beetles that look kind of like them...no the little reddish ones, are the organic farmer's friend.) So much going on that I wasn't paying full attention to the pea-picking in the other field.
Here's where the dilemma began, had I been paying attention I might have gotten home earlier. But, alas, I was not. The second part of the mistake began with the washing of produce. We water rinse most things to just take the dust off...pretty much...and maybe Lady Bug poo....) Some items begin spoiling once water hits them, like herbs, so they don't get a bath. And items that come right out of the ground like radishes and beets get a shower in the field so they don't need one in the packing room...green, very green. And sometimes, the farmers make a judgment call about who gets dunked and who does not.
So we had loads and loads of veggies to wash. And only two sinks to do it. I thought I'd be uber efficient and wash out the sinks, fill them up with cold water and get going. I'd done it before...I knew the drill. One sink got lettuce. The other...well...we had a lot of peas...good idea to start on those. So I started dumping them in. I'm happily sloshing away and one of the farmers comes by..."Oh, we decided not to wash the peas." OOPS! Darn. But they were wet, and I carried on.
Until 24's co-picker says. "Hey, there are two kinds of peas. Don't mix them together!"
Oh boy. Did I mention that my uber-efficiency compelled me to dump all 5 bags of peas...all 30 pounds...into the cold water? Together.
Sigh.
I'm pretty sure I won't be doing that again. Good news. The peas are super clean and received lots of tender loving care. Bad news, it added about 45 minutes to the process. Ugh.
