You probably already know to boil them starting with cold water, so they don’t crack. And after they boil for 10 minutes, to cool them fast, in cold water, so they’ll be easier to peel. But for fresh brown eggs, there are a few other things to pay attention to.

Fresh eggs come coated with something waxy that protects them when they’re growing chickens. Unfortunately, it also protects them from accepting dye. The more clean you get them to start, the better the dye seems to stick.

Here’s a rundown of what we came up with when dying fresh brown eggs.

• The earthy colors turned out pretty cool.
• Scrub the eggs before dying for more vibrant color
• Use extra dye and extra vinegar for nice bright colors.

Have you ever dyed brown eggs? How did it work out? I used store-bought tablets, but next year I’m hoping to try more natural dyes.

I will stick with coconut bliss, being already on the diabetes train and all. But I think I could feel good about giving this to my kids.

P.S. Apparently I lied about that last one being… uh, the last one.

I whispered to him that we could make a new dream, one he liked. Sometimes that seems to help. We can imagine something lovely happening, and he’ll feel a little better.

But tonight it was “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

Laying in bed with him, half asleep, I tried to reassure him, to hold him. I said “I don’t know how to make it stop, honey…” But then I realized I actually do know how.

I’ve talked with him before about breathing, and how it makes life easier when you’re really scared or sad. (Try to maintain a state of "freaking out" while really breathing; it’s hard!) We talk sometimes about being "discombobulated" and how to get back to being, as he says, ‘bobulated.

So it wasn’t an entirely foreign thing to him when I said this.

“Actually, I do know a way, but it’s hard.” (“What?” he said.) “You need to breathe, and pay attention to the breath, and nothing else.”

I couldn’t believe I was telling him this, and he was listening. “You can count the breaths. That can help.”

I whispered “One, two, three. Count to three, or five, or ten, and when you get scared again, start over.”

And I held him while he quieted his mind, and went to sleep. Amazing.

The recipe I used was our Simply Splendid Sugar Cookie, which uses equal parts whole-wheat flour and white flour and a little less sugar than the norm.

Ok, if you’re new here, I’ll state what seems to me to be the obvious. These are cookies made with white flour and sugar. Those things aren’t “real food,” they’re industrial products that are doing real damage to the health of all of us.

25% of people over 60 have diabetes. That’s a lot of people. “…white flour and a little less sugar” aren’t going to solve that problem.

By the end of the video, he gets into lots of beautiful ideas about permaculture and food. I can’t recommend it enough.

“I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ.”—Mahatma Gandhi

Since I was a very little girl, I have been fascinated—no, obsessed—with questions about why we are here, what it means to be human, whether we’re doomed to a life of struggle and pain, or whether something beautiful is calling to us. Some people are like that, and I’m one. Can’t be helped, I suppose.

I eventually came to believe that there is something, some glorious possiblity, in the universe—that something like Love holds everything together (“and it’s the everything too,” as Rumi says). But I couldn’t find people to talk with about this. I wanted so desperately to have a conversation where this was a foundational idea:

“The moment God is figured out with nice neat lines and definitions, we are no longer dealing with God. We are dealing with somebody we made up.”—Rob Bell

Gradually, I have become more and more fascinated with the work of the man called Jesus. When I read the books that we call the new testament, the words leaped out at me. This has happened many times in the past, but when I’d go stand among the “Christians,” I’d quickly realize that it was no place for me.

Very confusing, that. What were these people thinking? What did the things they were saying have to do with this man? And yet, they seemed to be unanimous. I must be crazy.
But wait! They aren’t unanimous!

“I don’t follow Jesus because I think Christianity is the best religion. I follow Jesus because he leads me into ultimate reality. He teaches me to live in tune with how reality is. When Jesus said, ‘No one comes to the Father except through me’, he was saying that his way, his words, his life is our connection to how things truly are at the deepest levels of existence. For Jesus then, the point of religion is to help us connect with ultimate reality, God.”—Rob Bell (in Velvet Elvis)

There it is: this is my experience. I want my eyes on God, on Love, all the time. I want my life-energy focused in that direction. Is that so much to ask?

The first time I encountered the viahafta in Synagogue, my soul was shaken to its core. That was it. That was the juice, for real. Exactly what my inner light had been screaming to me all along:

You will love the lord, your god, with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.

Doesn’t that just electrify you, right down to your bones? I mean, what else is there? Find out what counts, and serve that, and only that, with every ounce of life in you. Because otherwise, what is life for?

I thought that one line was all I needed, but then someone offered me a new, improved version. Jesus Christ says (my paraphrase here)

Yes, you’re right. All those laws aren’t what’s important. What’s important is right here: Love God with all your heart and soul and strength, and also, love your neighbor as yourself.

It might be redundant, I’m not sure. But when I hear it, I know that’s the vision I have, and want to have, for what it means to be fully human. And so, here I am. A follower of Jesus.

And what I get from this path is the freedom to open myself up, pour myself out, and find redemption in that broken place.

Love wins.

Any questions?

He used to walk part of the way. Then one day he announced to us that his bike might need a tune-up, because he can’t use first gear in the front. OMG!

That weekend, mama got some greasy hands, and the kid got, effectively, a new bike. The next week he was biking the whole way.

He noticed that even with a good breakfast, he needs food when he gets there. And even with a good lunch, he needs food before he heads home. So we went off looking for some energy bars. And most of them were made out of all kinds of weird stuff. But then we found… tadaa! Larabars!

According to their website, each flavor has no more than six ingredients. (“Cashew Cookie” has two: dates and cashews.) Check out this ingredients list for the “Ginger Snap” flavor.

• dates
• almonds
• pecans
• ginger
• cinnamon
• cloves

Carbs and Flavor

They’re sweet. No denying it… and that could be good or bad, depending. Ginger snap has 220 Calories, and 19 non-fiber carbs. They provide lots of fuel for my boy’s bike ride.

But probably not for me. The company claims that for “many diabetics” the whole food carbs don’t significantly raise blood sugar. I have only tried a few bites, so I can’t say.

I could make them myself

… but why? I have to admit, I’m kind of sick of making butter out of raw milk, and cooking everything from scratch. (Ack! Did I say that?) This once, I’m just gonna go with it.

Have you tried Larabars? Have another favorite bar? I’d love to hear about your experience!

On the one hand, sometimes it’s possible for me to remember that people make judgments or criticisms because of their own pain, or their own worldview, and that no one can make me wrong. On the other, it seems to me that there is something very real about the reactions I have to being told, in any of a zillion ways, that I’m not good enough. In fact, it seems to me to be connected with the instinct for survival. I defend my humanity with the same determination that I defend my life.

We can choose less skillful methods, like taking on the judgment or returning the blame. Or we can choose a gentle method for protecting ourselves, by making efforts to filter what we’re hearing. We can also protect ourselves by trying to keep out of reach of people who tell us (in any of a zillion ways) that we aren’t good enough.

What we can’t do–what I can’t do–is act as though there’s no need for protection, because “words can never hurt me.”

I’m really curious about other people’s experiences around this. Do you find you’re able to “never hear another criticism,” as Marshall says? I’d love to know what comes up for you, hearing this.

“Are you sure, Mom? That doesn’t seem right.”

After a lot of discussion, she said “Oh, well, and some potatoes.”

So I made it. And I called her back, and said, “Mom, this isn’t right.”

“Well, did you put the bacon in? Or some ham?”

Ok, so it turns out it goes like this:

• Green beans
• Potatoes
• Ham

Fill your pot almost half-way with fresh green beans. Another quarter of the mix is potatoes, cut in cubes. The last quarter is ham, also diced. Alternately, you can use bacon-ends.

Add water to cover, put the lid on, and simmer for hours. I mean hours. And most important, keep enough water in the pan, because if it boils dry, you’ve got a burned mess. But if you keep it moist, you’ll find the yummiest green beans you ever tasted.

Well, I can’t promise that. But you’ll have the yummiest green beans I ever tasted.

So I know I don’t like making demands. I don’t like people thinking I’m making a demand, and I don’t like actually doing it. But something’s been bugging me about making “requests,” too, and I think I’m beginning to put my finger on it.

A request means I want you to do something. If I ask, “Would you be willing to… ?” I might tell myself I’m asking if you could do it with real, heartfelt joy. But I’m afraid I might be asking, “Can you think of any objections that would get you out of doing this thing which is my agenda for you?” ACK! Isn’t that horrifying?!

I recently had occasion to issue an invitation, and I enjoyed heck out of it. I felt so different from a request.

I’ve decided I want to try only making invitations for a while. Offers of ideas or involvement, if it’s of interest, but no requests.

“So, now that you’ve heard about my itching, I wonder if you’d like to scratch my back?” (vs. “…would you be willing to scratch my back?”)
“Would you like to work on a solution together?” (vs. “Would you be willing to work on a solution with me?”)

I’m really excited about this, because I love figuring out things that were snagging for me. And I’m quite curious about whether that excitement came through, and whether it’s exciting to anyone else, or even makes sense. Would anyone enjoy telling me how this is for you? <–That’s an invitation, but not a request!