Blues apprentice? You decide. This is how it went down:
“Please, God, not a blue one.”
Arms crossed against icy wind—and what I was about to do—I braved the La-Z-Boy store.
“And how may we help you today?” the genteel salesman asked, ignoring my body language.
I did not gnash my teeth. Or mention a long-held personal vow: no recliners. Ever.
Having survived 5 bypasses, Dreamer required safe, adjustable, maximized comfort. I wanted him to have every last thing he needed to heal. As long as it wasn’t blue.
I cleared my throat. Swallowing pride felt like raveled twine was stuck to my tongue and tonsils.
“I need a recliner. For a big guy.” He nodded, starting to turn. “Today,” I added.
His tilted his head. “That sounds important. Follow me.”
The only Big Man Recliner in stock was … wait for it … blue.
Dreamer loved The Chair, lived in it 24-7. And this sounds selfish and utterly trivial, but I had to alter the room’s color scheme. Immediately. Or implode.
Goodbye lily pad green, tawny brown, beige, and black. So long vintage gold frames.
I became a Blues Apprentice, nipping into thrift stores between grocery stops. I wanted to:
- Ease Dreamer’s traumatized palate
- Recreate our décor palette
- Appease sense and (my) sensibilities
I raided the linen cupboard. (Good thing I have a pillow fetish.)
Hello cranberry, kingfisher blue, sea urchin-purple. Dashes of orange.
I bought an as is blue rug and discounted tapestry to pull the new look together. (No rug photo, too much dog hair today.)
Beauty heals. Color enlivens. Now I want to sip it, swim in it, splash passersby.
In other words, deliciate. No, not delicate. Not dedicate.
Why is this marvelous word obsolete? Let’s bring it back!
Meanwhile: new regimes, new recipes, smaller portions. Our plates feature produce (Killer Kale recipe below). Feasting, I decide, may be more about attitude than amplitude. Or the actual food.
Some entrees bomb (don’t ask).
Some days we battle the blues.
Each day I intentionally wade into color, sink into beauty. Try to abide there.
“Be still and know that I am God (Ps. 46:10)” contains the Hebrew word rapha, translated “Be still”or “Cease striving.”
Raphah can also mean “sink.” Make that sacred sinking as Emily P. Freeman puts it. Marinate in God’s presence.
Outside, perennials stampede their split rail edging. Blue solar lights glow at dusk.
From clumps of lavender, purple lightning rods rocket forth, attracting bees. Sedum and rose campion blooms peak, as never before, as if saluting The Blues Apprentice, making her comeback.
I shelve my Quaker-ish wardrobe, buy a royal blue tunic and polka dot shawl, shoes and a sunhat the color of raspberry sherbet.
Is a little happiness leaking from this post? Is it catching?
I aim to feast on this daily slaw of verbs—spiritual yet practical:
saturate / marinate / emanate
And to think The Big Bad Blue Chair started it all.
Any unexpected chain reactions at your house?
KILLER KALE* (is this an oxymoron?):
Makes 2 servings
Toast 2 slices of wholegrain bread.
Carmelize sliced onions in pan spritzed with olive oil spray (8-10 minutes).
Add diced garlic, orange pepper, and 2 cups thinly sliced kale.
Stir 2 minutes, until kale wilts. Set aside.
Fry 2 eggs.
Spread veges and on toast and top with egg.
Layer on reduced-fat pepperjack cheese (or provolone).
Broil, melting cheese.
Serve alongside red grapes (or grape tomatoes) and mini-carrots. And . . . Deliciate!
*Adapted from Junk Food to Joy Food, by Joy Bauer.