The City Market

With warm weather on its way out, I thought I'd bid a formal adieu to one of our favorite summer activities here in Kansas City -  going to The City Market. (While it's open year-round, I think it's most fun to go during the summer.)

Located just  5 miles  from where we live, the City Market  is nestled in Kansas City's oldest neighborhood, called the "River Market" area.

Kansas City Market 1906 (source)

Kansas City Market 2013

This is the same area where we visited the 4-story antique store that I wrote about in this post.

Here you find the region's largest farmers market with rows and rows of produce stalls set up by local farmers.

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Just grab a bag (or bring your own), load it up with what you want, and pay in cash.

It's a little crowded on the weekends, but not-so-much during the week.

Confession: I had never tasted a homegrown tomato until I went to the City Market.

My life is forever changed.  To think of all those grocery store tomatoes masquerading around like the real thing...

One of my favorite things to do is "casually" walk around looking for samples.

This man sells baklava outside of his Middle Eastern mart. 

And here is some fresh baked pita outside of the same Middle Eastern mart.
It's soft and fluffy and fresh and ...mmm...delish.

Besides fruits and vegetables, people also sell fudge, baked goods, beef, fresh herbs, salsa, homemade candles, soaps, and the most beautiful bouquets of flowers.

Matt, the green thumb in the family, always stops by this man's orchid booth where we ooh and ahh over his AMAZING blooms.

Orchids are not the easiest flowers to grow and care for.  But this guy is an expert and is always willing to give tips when Matt asks.  He says there are over 25,000 varieties of orchids.  I can't wrap my brain around that.  25,000?!  How great is our God!

There are LOTS of spices at the City Market.

And loose-leaf teas.

This man sells locally made honey.

When he saw me staring with quiet, wide-eyed fascination at his bees, he kindly pulled out a beekeeper's hat and bee smoker that he gets out for the children.

This may well possibly be one of the dorkiest pictures of me.  There was just no hiding my enthusiasm for that beekeeper hat.

Around the perimeter of the market are little ethnic eateries.  There's authentic Italian, Mediterranean, and Ethiopian. You can also find pizza or bbq (of course). There's a burrito place and a coffee shop, a bakery and a smoothie place.  A little of this, a little of that.  I love the cultural diversity.

Matt and I tend to gravitate towards the middle eastern food.

Habashi House - our favorite place at the market.

We typically share a plate of shawarma and baba ganoush.  It tastes good AND it's fun to say:)

Everywhere you look, there's something colorful to see, something exotic to smell, and, on busy days, someone who is playing something on an instrument.

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Much to my delight, this man was playing the "Andy Griffith" theme song on his flute.

And much to Matt's delight, these guys were playing playing Led Zepplin.

And there were these guys too.  I loved it!

Every Sunday, there's a "Community Yard Sale" at the market, where people can come sell their handmade goods, collectibles and "gently used items."

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Checking out the Community Yard Sale

If you need a break from the outdoors, you can pop into the little shop on the side that sells stuff.

Like plants and scarves, greeting cards and t-shirts, and these wooden shoes I found that complimented my outfit.

The City Market.  It's a feast for the senses.  If you're in the area, come check it out!

Because you're dying to know about my updated dining room and burlap wreath

When I first envisioned words on my dining room wall, I pictured something close to this size:

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I wanted a different font and different words, but something that took up a good chunk of space, and looked like it was supposed to be there.

But I had a hard time finding words that scale that I could afford, so I settled for a smaller font.

After I painstakingly measured and centered the words on the wall with my fellow decor-loving mother-in-law who was visiting from out of town, I stood back and saw a very well-centered and inspiring quote...that looked very small and alone on my wall.

Shucks.

I considered putting a big, empty frame around it, but that didn't "click" with me for some reason.

So I purchased a border that looked like it would add a touch of elegance and provide a "place" for the seemingly floating small words on the big wall.

It came in the mail, and I noticed right away that it was much thicker than I anticipated.  Like, the lines were thick.  Not elegant.  Bulky.

"Hm, maybe it will look better when I put it up on the wall."

I set to work measuring and putting up the border optimistically.

When all was done, I stood back to admire my work.

Crooked.  The border was clearly CROOKED, lopsidedly higher on the left.  I think I might have heard it laughing at me ever so faintly.

It's hard to tell in this picture, but trust me, the border was crooked. 
And a bit bulky, yes?

I thought the whole thing looked a bit emblem-y and didn't love it.  But it remained in this state for several weeks, until I decided to peel off the outermost border, thinking that would help.

Meh.

The problem remained that I still needed something to flank the sides.  I imagined candle sconces, plates, sprigs of fake flowers or greenery, a frame gallery,... all sorts of things.  But, nothing that I was sold on.

Truth be told: sometimes I deliberate over small, insignificant decisions.  Does anybody else do this?

For months, the wall stayed incomplete as I stayed indecisive.  And every time I walked by that wall, I felt a twinge of annoyance (even though, of course, the truth of the quote remained uplifting).

And then, one day, I was in Target (the land where dreams come true) and happened upon some faux willow branches which called my name.  They were understated and natural-looking and did not appear tackily fake.  Perfect.

The vision for my dining room wall finally became clear.

Thank you to my 2nd grade class for the Target gift card!  I was waiting to use it until just the right moment.

I got home and fished out from under my bed some sconces I've had since college.  Sconces that I wasn't sure where to put in our new place.

Here's the finished look with the branches.  The words are still a tad small-looking, I admit, but I'm pleased.  I no longer feel that twinge of annoyance.

Next project.

My next door neighbor had a burlap wreath on her front door that I had been admiring. When she told me that she made it and shared with me how easy it was, I headed to JoAnn to get myself a wire wreath frame and some burlap.  Like this:

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I wove the burlap in and out of the wire wreath frame like she said, pulling and scrunching and separating the loops.

At first, it looked like nothing was going to come of it.

Am I doing this right?, I thought, as I periodically glanced up at the PBS special on the Rajneesh movement in the 70s.  Bizarre cult.

Then,...slowly but surely,...it started to take shape.

And eventually, I had myself a wreath!

Behold.

I like it from every angle and think it completes the room. 

The letter-block pillow was a Christmas gift made from a mom of one of my students last year.  I love it.

Speaking of crafty gifts, another mom of a past student of mine gave me a cute, homemade wreath of her own.  She has her own wreath-making business.  To see her full collection, you can check it out here.

My taste, I am discovering, is traditional meets cottage-y meets pinterest-y.  I really do want my home whether it's big or small, fancy or not, to be welcoming and cozy.  Like an updated twist on a Hobbit hole.

"There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort." - Jane Austen

Or (a quote I can equally appreciate),

"Decorate your home.  It gives the illusion that your life is more interesting than it really is." - Charles Schulz 

Want to be amazed? Click here

Oh, just 3 young virtuosos playing some bluegrass in their bedroom.  Nothing to see here.

brothers Johnny, Robbie, and Tommy

Matt and I stumbled across these guys the other day.

I smile watching them.  So fun!

Happy 65th Birthday to my mom!

My mom, who I think looks considerably younger than she actually is, hits a milestone today. 65!

Happy birthday, Mom!

While nobody is perfect, and I know you will admit this about yourself, there are many things I love about you, Mom:

You are responsible and disciplined.  I bet you can count on one hand how many days of exercise you have missed in the last decade.  I, on the other hand, can count on one hand (or two) how many days I have missed just this week.  And you are never late?  How do you do that?

You are supportive and loyal.  People can count on you.

You aren't clingy and have always trusted God with me.  I really think this has made it easier for me to trust Him too.

You are remarkably germ-conscious.  Who knows how many sicknesses in our home were avoided by your diligence and regular reminders.  I don't know if everything you said was 100% accurate (like "A sneeze travels 200 feet in every direction."), but to this day, I still discreetly hold my breath for a few seconds when someone near me sneezes.  And I crack up when you (not so discreetly) pull the top of your shirt over your nose and mouth in the same situation.

You are fun-loving.  I love hearing your loud and joyful laugh and watching you dance at weddings and warmly mingle with, well, anybody.

You say funny things without knowing they are funny.  Am I right, Dad?  Matt?

You truly love the Lord and exemplify a childlike faith in Him.  I can always count on you to pray.

So Happy Birthday again, Mom.  I hope it's a sweet one.

Behind the technology curve

I admit that I'm a little behind my generation when it comes to technology.

Multiple remote controls give me a headache.

Now in some ways, I feel quite proficient and speedy.  I finally own my very own Iphone (and am comfortable with it!), I know how to use dropbox, I can type well, copy and paste with (not to brag) pretty amazing speed, and maneuver my way around various programs for professional and personal use.

However, there are some things that escape me.  Actually, it's not that I can't understand them; it's just that I haven't gotten around to learning some things.  I'm a little lazy with learning things that I don't need to know, until I care to.  And sometimes I don't care for a long time.

But then I get a little embarrassed when my sudden desire to know springs up and makes me look the archaic fool.

Take today, for instance.

We're in our cozy living room, me grading, him studying.  A regular, quiet Saturday.  Boring, perhaps, to some.  But I felt content.

Me - Do you mind if I turn on the radio? (walking towards the armoire which houses our stereo, which I still call the "boom box") 

Him - The radio?  Liane, we have the internet where you can listen to anything you want at anytime.

Me - Oh, okay, let's do that....(long pause)...How do I do that again?

Him - (smiles and hangs his shaking head, then looks up, still smiling) Liane! You're stuck in the nineties!  The radio.  Want to listen to some UB40 and Ace of Base while you're at it?

No, no I do not.

I just want to turn on my boom box.

When innocent people pay

Today I received a letter shoved in our door frame from our apartment management office.

It asked us, in no uncertain terms, if we would please not leave our cigarette butts lying all over the ground by our apartment building, as it is "very unsightly and a serious fire hazard."

I agree with the reasons.

However, the eager deliverer failed to notice that the apartment # on the envelope did not match our apartment #.  He meant to deliver it to our neighbors on the ground floor.

"It wasn't us!," I wanted to say.  So I wrote a light-hearted but clarifying email to our apartment office, explaining the little mishap and the fact that, um, we don't smoke.

I'm not guilty.

I didn't do it.

Clear my name!

Don't misunderstand me.

Know me.

One of the saddest things to me is when I hear stories of people who have been falsely accused of some heinous crime and sent away to prison for DECADES before evidence of their innocence finally emerges.

Oh!  Can you imagine??!

Did you see that movie, The Hurricane?

In When God Weeps, the book I'm reading, there is a page that just pierced me to the core the other day.

It describes when God poured out ALL his wrath (I shudder to think) on Jesus for ALL of mankind's specific sins. 

It was gut-wrenching thinking about Him paying a horrendous penalty for horrendous moral failings and crimes that HE DIDN'T DO!

The power of the Gospel became new to me again in that moment.

Here's an excerpt that's worth reading to the end:
[Jesus] begins to feel a foreign sensation.  Somewhere during this day an unearthly foul odor began to waft, not around his nose, but his heart. He feels dirty.  Human wickedness starts to crawl upon his spotless being - the living excrement from our souls. The apple of his Father's eye turns brown with rot.

His Father! He must face his Father like this!

From heaven the Father now rouses himself like a lion disturbed, shakes his mane, and roars against the shriveling remnant of a man hanging on a cross.  Never has the Son seen the Father look at him so, never felt even the least of his hot breath. But the roar shakes the unseen world and darkens the visible sky.  The Son does not recognize these eyes.

"Son of Man! Why have you behaved so? You have cheated, lusted, stolen, gossiped -- murdered, envied, hated, lied.  You have cursed, robbed, overspent, overeaten -- fornicated, disobeyed, embezzled, and blasphemed.  Oh, the duties you have shirked, the children you have abandoned!  Who has ever so ignored the poor, so played the coward, so belittled my name?  Have you ever held your razor tongue? What a self-righteous, pitiful drunk -- you, who molest young boys, peddle killer drugs, travel in cliques, and mock your parents.  Who gave you the boldness to rig elections, foment revolutions, torture animals, and worship demons?  Does the list never end!  Splitting families, raping virgins, acting smugly, playing the pimp -- buying politicians, practicing extortion, filming pornography, accepting bribes.  You have burned down buildings, perfected terrorist tactics, founded false religions, traded in slaves -- relishing each morsel and bragging about it all.  I hate, I loathe these things in you!  Disgust for everything about you consumes me!  Can you not feel my wrath?"

Of course the Son is innocent.  He is blamelessness itself.  The Father knows this.  But the divine pair have an agreement, and the unthinkable must now take place.  Jesus will be treated as if personally responsible for every sin ever committed.

The Father watches as his heart's treasure, the mirror-image of himself, sinks drowning in raw, liquid sin.  Jehovah's stored rage against humankind from every century explodes in a single direction.

"Father!  Father!  Why have you forsaken me?!"

But heaven stops its ears.  The Son stares up at the One who cannot, who will not, reach down or reply.

The Trinity planned it.  The Son endured it.  The Spirit enabled him.  The Father rejected the Son whom he loved.  Jesus, the God-man from Nazareth, perished.  The Father accepted his sacrifice for sin and was satisfied.  The Rescue was accomplished...

This is who asks us to trust him when he calls on us to suffer.

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