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September Fire, Welcome Rain: The Disaster in SoCal This Week and How Your Family Can Help
If you hadn’t heard of the town of Hemet before the 5th of September, you’re not alone. Nestled inland from the Temecula Valley and Riverside, it’s not exactly a vacation destination. It’s the town we go through to get to Palm Springs, Big Bear and Lake Arrowhead. If you’ve never been there, here’s some context: And just a few miles away sits the de facto international Scientology headquarters; a huge and bizarre compound you would not want to be a part of. Combine all that with a handful of garage meth labs, a growing fentanyl problem and one of the highest homeless populations in Riverside County. So it hasn’t exactly…
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A Neighborhood Divided: Years of Friends, Months of Loss, Weeks of Grief
When we moved out of Baja and back to Cali, I wasn’t what you’d call… excited. Besides the whole experience feeling anti-climactic (we already lived in SoCal once), track houses aren’t really my jam. Apparently, the neighborhood cookie-cutter fairy put all of our floor plans on a blueprint and the creativity stopped after five. Five similar shapes, five coordinating paint schemes, and that was it. Match-y match-y ain’t my style. Plus, I didn’t see a whole lot of ministry taking place between getting the mail and pulling in trashcans. I don’t mean to sound like a whiner. I’m truly grateful for Model #3 to call home and know millions around…
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Trust, but Verify
Dude #1: “I am so glad I checked.” Dude #2: “I would do anything to be able to go back and check.” Where do you fall when it comes to verifying information that could tip the scales toward relief or disaster? As a mom, it’s my job, my right, and my responsibility to ask my kids questions about their outings, friends, whereabouts, etc. Sometimes (ahem—like this morning) I get major pushback, but I press on. Why? Because regrets carry weight and guilt, and teens actually want boundaries. Prudence: Careful, wise discernment; the good management of talents and resources and the showing of tact and wisdom in relationships with other…
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Cooking Tips & Tricks from My Classically-Trained Le Cordon Bleu Neighbor Chef
In 2002 I spent my days chasing a toddler while my friend Jen chased a dream to culinary school. Fresh out of high school, she donned a white coat, white skull cap, and jumped into chef training at none other than Le Cordon Bleu. Eighteen months later, after cuts, burns and hundreds of food victories, she received an Associate of Occupational Studies degree in culinary arts. I didn’t know her back then, but since we currently live eleven feet apart (yes, I measured… at night… like a creeper), I stuffed my intimidation and decided to find out more. She invited me over on birthday cupcake day and we had a…
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When You Don’t Wanna Bloom Where You’re Planted
When the Mary Englebreit craze invaded 1996, I joined millions of other fans and hung her calendar on my wall. I liked her one-two faith punch: “Everything is a risk. What if it doesn’t work out?” “Oh—but what if it does?” Over the years my floral style changed, but I now see that she produces black and white art, and her sayings/phrases are clever with a side of sass. For example, you’ll find these on some of her recent cards: “When you thought everything would be easy peasy lemon squeezy, but it’s actually difficult, difficult, lemon difficult.” “When life shuts a door, open it again. It’s a door. That’s how…
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I Moved Into Our New House and Met 19 New Neighbors on Our Street! It Was Weird.
It started five months ago with the people who share our fence. They were nice and we were new, so the conversation revolved around our dogs, mail for the former owner, and if the HOA is strict about paint colors. They are. Handshakes and names quickly moved to swim invites and baked goods, with a walk for the ladies and a beer for the guys. Southern California fence culture says, “That side’s yours, this side’s mine. Keep your tree limbs trimmed.” But since I’m not originally from here, Carrie culture says, “Let’s knock the fence down and have a BBQ!” The first thing we noticed about our new neighborhood…
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The Circus Next Door
I asked God to direct my writing and give me material. This is not what I had in mind. Large trucks pull into the empty lot around lunchtime. The photo-wrapped trailer shimmies up to the far fence and faces the road. The other one shimmies up to our side yard. That’s close enough, thanks. Nice of you to block the dust, but I don’t need you checking out our laundry or feeding our dogs through the chainlink. My attitude plummets when truck and trailer detach, back doors swing open, and a washing machine appears… about 20 feet from mine. Let me guess—you want to borrow a hose? And tap into our…
