Thursday, February 10, 2011


There's a beauty in skills honed over time; repetition building confidence and mastery.

I don't approach things that way though. I love learning trying new things, learning unknown skills, fresh beginnings, all that. I also am genetically determined to be a DIYer. I talk big about hiring stuff out to the professionals, but when it comes down to it, often I can't stop myself from giving it a go - for better or for worse.

This attitude has it's merits. Murray always says I'm a good cook, when in actuality, I'm just a fearless one. I'll try almost any recipe - and as he likes to eat almost anything, we're a match born in heaven. That old adage about not trying new dishes on guests is lost on me too (although I do often think of it as the food is on the brink of disaster and the guests are 30 min away).
In defense of trying new things, I've served very few inedible meals and a fair amount of tasty ones. And as I age I am learning to repeat the winners - less stress. Still, I'm drawn to try new things... and not just in cooking.

For instance, I'm slowly putting up the crown molding in the kids room. Installing crown molding is definitely new to me, and I can not claim it as an actual skill yet. I have to cut most pieces multiple times - although during my last session, I put up 2 pieces with just the necessary 2 cuts - amazing! I was glowing, even though the third piece required about 8 cuts to get right - grrr.

Such escapades gives me renewed respect for carpenters. Learning something new almost always gives me respect for those who can do it well. Which brings me to Charlie, our Barn Whisperer. He is amazing - he can read a building like a book,  he knows what it needs to stand straight and how to go about straightening it. Our barn is still standing because of him. Sadly, Charlie is in the hospital right now. He fell off a high barn roof onto frozen ground (with all this snow around, how could there not be a snow drift to catch him?!?! But there wasn't.) He's pretty broken up - way worse than just the broken pelvis Murray and I heard he had (which is bad enough). He and his family would appreciate your prayers. On the drive back from visiting him I couldn't stop thinking about the vast trove of knowledge lying there behind his closed eyes. We were lucky to have met him and luckier still to have had him work on our barn. I hope and pray he lives on to save many more.

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