Delay Tactics

Boy - I'm certainly awash today! Not enough sleep - too much stirring in my brain - and a lack of energy for bringing about anything that I'm thinking about. I wish that I could give orders and have someone else work on projects that I would dream up for them to do - like Martha Stewart does. But then I'd have to work all the time and perhaps be a drill sergeant, and I'm not able to do either of those things.

This picture of a medieval castle and village remind me of something depicted in Tolkein's "The Lord of the Rings" or in C.S. Lewis' "Chronicles of Narnia". When I made the picture, I animated it with some cool pool-shadows and the windchime moving in a mystical breeze. Alas, I can't get the animation to work on this blogsite.

What are my delay tactics, you ask, since I gave this posting that title? Well, the delay tactic is that I'm teaching Sunday School tomorrow and I don't want to work on my lesson. I would like to just get up in front of the class and talk and stimulate them to grand thoughts and composite thoughts as a result, but I'm afraid that it's not possible to do that if you've only ingested fluff. And this week I feel like that is precisely what I've been mentally eating. "You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time." said Abraham Lincoln. I'm sure after the first 5 minutes each person would know that my preparation time for the class was about 14 minutes.

We're going to look at the "rest passage" of Hebrews 4, and one would think that I've been practicing that passage literally. Although, I do think that the Lord is wanting me to learn to rely upon Him more and less upon my own need to have every I crossed and T dotted - or is it I dotted and T crossed?? Most of the time perfection eludes me and I'm always chasing it with a switch hoping to bring it under my dominion. The other day I wrote a quote by Michael J. Fox about perfection belonging to God and not to me. I can safely pursue excellence but perfection will never belong to me.

So - rest... The rest that I can have in knowing the Lord is in control. He knows how much chaos has been swirling around in this household this week while the grandkids are here. He knows every detail of my days and nights. He understands. I always take heart in the verse in Psalms that says that He gently leads the nursing ewes. Teaching this adult Sunday School class is rather like cramming for Final Exams. If I haven't been consistent during the term to study, then cramming in the last few hours won't do a bit of good. Well, I have been pretty consistent throughout my adult life to study and to read the Bible, so this week I am going to trust the Lord. I am going to rest in Him and in His greatness to teach the people and have faith that He will bring out of me riches, both old and new, to encourage and stimulate His beloved people to draw closer to Him. I've been praying throughout the week that He will have deposited into me what He wants to use as parables and teaching tools. I will read the passage again tonight. I will pray about what I'm reading. I will read a little in a commentary - and I'll call it adequate.

It truly is my desire that people would be drawn to Him. The goal is not to edify myself. So, this rest is about allowing Him to lead through His Holy Spirit. He will have to do be present to teach through me - and I know He will. He's a good Father!

WOO HOO I Found It!

Remember back several weeks ago (Sept. 4) when I was jabbering on about Carl Larsson and how much I liked his artwork and how inspiring his wife was to me? But I was at a loss because I couldn't find the book that talked about Karin and her clothing style?? Well, I finally found the book! It was lurking in the back of my closet (don't ask).

The book is Carl and Karin Larsson: Creators of the Swedish Style edited by Michael Snodin and Elisabet Stavenow-Hidemark (click here to see the cover). I got the book, years ago and for a song, from a Edward Hamilton Books catalog. There are lots and lots of beautiful pictures of the Larsson home and Carl Larsson's work. However, the part that I was telling you about is on page 178 and talks about Karin's clothes and furniture.

Karin did not confine herself to weaving and embroidery. By 1890 she had designed a remarkable plant stand. She designed a chandelier and beds; in 1906 she designed a rough, heavy rocking-chair and a square table for the new studio, pieces in which the function was obvious and the construction was not concealed. According to a Larsson family legend, the local cabinetmaker, who produced the original pieces of furniture, was so ashamed that he delivered them after dark.... They were clearly home-made, but the style was new and avant-garde....
As regards clothes, discreet Karin Larsson was just as conspicuously modern as in her textiles. ...(S)he wears dresses in a flowing style so distinctive that it has acquired the status of a Karin Larsson model.... ...(I)t is surprising that she dared to go against the accepted fashion.... The cut of clothes around the turn of the century, which accentuated a tiny waist, required corsets. Karin misled the eye by adopting fashionable details of the period, such as stand-up collars and leg-of-mutton sleeves. This created a modest impression, which made the observer forget that decent women should be corseted; the loosely hanging dresses were associated with 'loose' morals.
Karin also created comfortable clothes for the children, suitable for family life in the country. She used simple, robust fabrics and was fond of mixing patterns in a modern way. She did not fall for fashion trends....

The book goes on to talk about how Karin left nothing to waste and patched, mended and re-used everything. The furniture which she and Carl had was innovatively altered or painted which gave their home its distinctive and inspiringly fresh look. She was also not concerned with perfection. The end result seemed to be more important to her than the perfection of method in attaining her vision.

It is encouraging to hear or read about people who are not consumed with the herd instinct of needing to "fit in". I came across a Michael J. Fox quotation one day:

"I am careful not to confuse excellence with perfection. Excellence, I can reach for, perfection is God's business."

I suppose I will forever be on my quest for understanding excellence and quality. Karin Larsson did not superimpose perfection upon her creativity which therefore enabled the things she made to remain fresh, displaying a portrait of her own style, her own life.

Bird On A Wing

Summer has winged it's way out the door.

It seems like ages since I've last written a post. Amanda's girls are here which has kept us all very busy. There are stories to be told, books to read, philosophizing to be done, walks to take, baths to give, meals to fix and - as a result of all this - the not so fun business of laundry, dishes and cleanup that go along with it.

I want to make some bookplates and post them on the blog for anyone who is interested. But I'm not sure how to put up a link so that others can download the file. Does anyone have any helpful hints? I sure would be interested in hearing your ideas. In fact, I would love to hear from anyone and everyone who has ideas of things that I could make and post!

That's all for now - time to take the dog to the clip joint. She can't see through all the hair in front of her eyes.

Tchuess!

I'm Away!!

Here I am in Minneapolis! Although you can't see me, I'm really here - up north where the air is chilly. I think a lot about Gwen Frostic and her beautiful books when I come up here. But actually, that's a lie because I think more about our delicious granddaughters than I do about an irritable woman that I never met. And Gwen Frostic was irritable if I can believe the bio that was written about her.

But back to our granddaughters...they are full of funnies and are so very much funnier than the funny papers because they are guileless. Frances, the Tidy, last night sent me into fits of laughter when she took a drink of water and then, with one finger on each side, pushed on her cheeks. A spray of water came out and shot across the room. Franny stood stock still, just as serious as could be as if she didn't even realize what she had just done. I laughed until tears ran down my face. You really had to be there.

We will be here until Wednesday and then the girls will come home with us for about 10 days. It will be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

But back to Gwen Frostic. Does anyone know about other authors of books like hers? I could spend hours just going over her beautiful artwork. I would love leads to others like her.

Adios for today!

We're Flying Off

Tomorrow we are going to pick up Amanda, Frances and Eleanor! I am looking forward to their visit with much relish. The Schwans man came today and left mounds of food. He remarked that all the stuff I bought today was pre-cooked. I said, "Yes! We are having company and I am not wanting to cook while they are here!"

So, Papa will go up to help do some odds and ends around the house - install lights, put in a new electrical outlet and repair their sprinkling system. I am going up to play with the girls, sew with Amanda and play with the girls some more!

Several months back I had closed off most of the yahoo groups that I belong to while I was busy with houseguests. I was also trying to decide how I wanted to proceed with developing my graphic/image ideas. I still don't know for sure what direction I will move into, but this week I re-entered one of my creating groups and started sending in stationery work again. I found that the difference now is that I am working at developing an understanding of why certain techniques work the way that they do and how to use color to interact with other colors. I am committed to making images that will have several purposes and not just to make stationeries that cannot be used anywhere else.

I think that I'm finally discovering what it is that I want to do and don't want to do. I feel like the little butterfly in the picture above. I am flying alone while trying to determine how I want to fly on. I know this probably sounds complicated and maybe it is unnecessarily complex - why not just do something for the fun of doing it? Why do I have to have a heavy reason for doing what I do?

Well, it is fun - what I'm doing. But there seems to be a limit to what can be done with it and I'm looking for a niche and a way around the limit. So far I haven't discovered the answer. But I am going to continue to enjoy and learn as I seek.

It's a rainy day and Hurricane Ike is busy blasting the Gulf coast. While it rains here, I pray for the people there. Yesterday was the anniversary of 9/11. It was also the anniversary of my Dad's near death surgery. A friend's daughter is going through crisis right now... There is so much going on and I do not want to lose perspective of what is lasting and what is temporary. Yet, like the butterfly in the picture above, I am looking at the beauty that does lie around me and I want to capture a small portion of it in word or image if I possibly can.

Rainy Days

Click on the image to see it rain on the leaf!

It has been raining here for the past few days - the sky is steely and everything drips. But I never complain about rain. As a former farm girl and an admirer of green things, I would rather have it be a little too wet than too dry.

I bought a book a couple of weeks ago about Starved Rock Park which is just up the road apiece. It is an interesting compilation of photos and highlights of the work that was done in the 1930s by the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corp). The U.S. Army set up and administered the camps which were then run in much the same way as if they were troops stationed in their different locations. Young men were able to enlist in the CCC for six months and were "paid a stipend for a 5 day work week, 3 meals a day, lodging, clothes, footwear, innoculations, other medical and dental care, and, at their option, vocational, academic, or recreational instruction". Since this was during the time of the depression, many of these young men were able to regain physical strength through eating well and receiving medical attention, as well as learning valuable carpentry skills. Most of them sent money back to their families who were helped by this support. The stone work that they built is, I think, especially beautiful and is still used today.

When I was small, we lived near Clarksville, Iowa, which had a lovely walkable stone dam. We would go to Heery Woods State Park for picnics and family reunions where we kids would play on the dam while our Mothers got the food ready and our Dads played horseshoes. I think that the beauty of that park settled in my heart forever and is one of the reasons that I love green and growing things so much.

Graphic based on tutorial by Carver House

Robin's E(expected) T(time of) D(departure)

It is a joyous spring day when I spot my first robin! Robins can smell worms from afar and know when they are beginning to surface again. And this is why they return when they do. Having no appetite for worms myself, I don't know when this phenomena occurs. I just look for the robins who relay that information. Although there are some robins who stay with us year around, I don't see them throughout the winter myself. Which brings me to my next thought.

It is almost time for them to leave us. There was one year, and one year only, when I actually saw the robins gather together and check their tiny suitcases to make sure they had everything before flying off for parts unknown to me. Other than that, I can only surmise when they will leave without as much as a fare-thee-well. I sense that it's about that time now. There's a rumbling underfoot which tells me that perhaps the worms are starting to burrow deeper.

Talk Radio and Tranquility Or The Lack Thereof

The phone rang and I could hardly hear the caller. "Wow! You've got a lot of noise going on." she said.
I had the phone pressed to my ear while the door to the garage was open so that I could I toss a pop can into the recycling. Bernie was in the garage, welding, while the radio blasted out three stations simultaneously. The din was incredible.

"What?" I shouted into the receiver. "I can't hear you. Hang on just a sec."
I retired to the living room where it was suddenly blissfully peaceful. The cat was asleep on my chair so I opted to sit on the sofa and continue the phone visit with my friend.

NOISE! I heartily dislike noise. I like a quiet environment. I like the calming tone of my own voice as I talk to myself. Nothing soothes me more than the soft cooing of a Mourning Dove or hearing the whirrrr of its wings when it takes off, startled by my peering eyes. I appreciate the velvet-like atmosphere of solitude.

"Well, it sounds like you've got alot going on at your house." she went on. When my husband is around there is always a lot going on because he thrives on the cacophony of Talk Radio. He derides and verbally jousts right along with the guest callers. He puts words into the mouths of the Moderators. He shouts threats or go-getums with full-throated glee. To my misfortune, many of the stations that he likes are AM stations- which means, by my definition, "Amalgamated Mayhem" because they never come through the airwaves in single file. They come through in one huge hydra with each station gyrating for attention.

The first thing that he does in the morning is turn on the radio to one of his conglomerated stations. When he leaves for work, the first thing I do is turn off the radio. If he comes home for lunch, he walks in the door, turns on the radio and smiles a greeting. He leaves for work and I turn off the radio. He comes home from work and grabs the remote to turn on the radio, then he kisses me hello. It's a never ending battle with me against the airwaves. It would have been wise for the Minister on our wedding day to have added to the promises: For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness or in health, in quietness or in chaos.... The last statement may have given pause for some serious decision-making.

When the children were at home, I expected noise, and I didn't mind the noise. It was the noise of children clomping, stomping, banging doors and screaming at each other. It was the noise of us, in turn, threatening the children. It was healthy noise. It was noise that we could do something about.

There is nothing that can be done about Talk Radio. You can't change their topics. You can't tell the caller that what he's saying is idiotic. You can't convince the Moderator that he doesn't have all the world's solutions within his singular brain. It is the noise of imprisonment to me.

Would I have run out of the church on that beautiful wedding day if the Minister had asked me if I would make a commitment to this man that included daily doses of Talk Radio? I was so starry eyed, that I would not have hesitated one moment but would still have heartily said, "I Do!" It just takes a great deal of patience to bear up under the commitment sometimes.

I Corinthians 13 has the perfect description of genuine love. In my times of quietness and tranquility I spend a lot of time praying through this passage and I can only trust that the Lord will work in me the acceptance and trust that goes along with the faith that He is working His virtuous love in me. When it gets to be too much, I can always retire to the living room, take my place on the sofa and listen to the cooing of the Mourning Dove.

Graphic inspired by tut from Auds Dezinz Here and Here

A Weird Saturday

It's Weirdsville around here today. It's tired out even though I took a nap. I knitted a bit on another pair of socks while ignoring the Smoke Ring that I am knitting for my sister (as a gift - shhhh, don't tell.) I actually washed the dishes twice today - which is a record for me since that is my least favorite job along - with about 10 other household tasks. I have been as alert all day as a piece of bark.

Looking at the little squirrel in this picture reminds me of the strangest noise I heard last week. It was a high pitched whirring sound, yet it also sounded like it could be the meow of an abandoned kitten. Since I couldn't figure out what the sound was I decided to go outside to investigate. When I rounded the corner of the house, I saw a squirrel on the branch of the hickory tree just a-scolding away. He was livid and his tail was bobbing up and down so fast it was a blur of agitation! I have no idea what his problem was unless our cat Zelda was hunkered down within his squirrel vision and he was indignant about it. I learned that day that squirrels have a lot of different sounds which they can make, and it would behoove me to be a little more observant.

I'd write more about the sounds that animals make, but I'm too tired. So, I'm going back to my knitting, or maybe to take another nap and make my own sound of snoring.

Graphic above made based on a tutorial by Shan's Designs

Books & Individuality

Click on image for larger view.

Well - it's been 2 days now and I still can't locate my book on Carl and Karin Larsson. So I'll just have to reconnoiter and write down things that I remember reading, but things which I can't verify by checking with the book. I just pray that I don't skew historical fact. However, the things that I remember are not going to be of historical significance. They are significant to me. And that is what is important.

In elementary school, one of my teachers would quote some brilliant person who said, to the effect, that if you can read you can conquer the world. In my pre-pubescent literal mind, I couldn't fit that concept into my brain. It was lofty nomenclature that I sandwiched in a cerebral side-pocket along with "the shot that was heard 'round the world" (get away!!) for some future date. It is shameful to say, but it wasn't until I became an adult that I began to more fully understand the truth of the concept about books. So fully have I bought into that motto now, that our house is crammed from floor to ceiling in every room with volumes on this, that and the other thing. Have I conquered the world? No. But perhaps I've grabbed onto a corner of it. At least I know that if there is anything that I need to know how to do, I can find a book, or a a link, or a YouTube to tell me how. And am I forever grateful!

Carl Larsson has been a longtime favorite artist of mine. He's very popular in Sweden, and I hope someday to visit his home. (Since I don't have the book in front of me, I can't remember how to spell his hometown so I won't try.) His art at the end of the 19th and early 20th centuries was noted for depicting family and domestic homelife. He painted what he loved: his wife, his children and his home. He painted them with charm and joy. I don't think he was particularly joyful all the time. After all, he was an artist and artists suffer, as all of us artists are aware. But he still knew that his wife and his home were his stability. He always added a flower somewhere in his paintings.

As much as I appreciate Carl Larsson's work, it is his wife, Karin, who fascinated me as I read about her in the book that I'm still looking for. She had lots of children. And she encouraged her husband emotionally who painted her all the time. Most of the time she is clearly portrayed in the foreground, but you may also find her as a shadowy figure who creates pictoral balance. In the painting above, she is both in the foreground reading and in the background walking past the window as she strides right out of the painting.

Karin lived in a time in which fashion was clearly set. Women wore corsets; it was clearly determined what was proper for morning wear and what one wore to make afternoon visits. Deviation from the norm was cause for the eyebrow to be raised. Mrs. Larsson was not too concerned about that. She wore loose clothing. Her dresses were long, but they were comfortable. Her nod to current fashion was in the length of her dresses and the style of her sleeves. Everything else was free to interpretation! She made the children's clothing comfortable in a time when children were to be dressed like miniature adults.

I found that her Individuality became an area of challenge and encouragement to me. I have thought about her a lot as I look at my wardrobe and think about what I will and will not wear. Comfort is of enormous importance to me, and because of the snippet I got from this book about Karin's Individuality, I am wanting to become more Individual in what I wear, too. I will not throw the baby out with the bathwater since I will look at the colors and styles of what is worn today, but I will definately eschew certain aspects of it which I think are absurd. What gave me this freedom? I read it in a book! After all, if you can read, you can conquer the world - at least your own world.

Graphic made based on tutorial by Designs by Tyra

It's All About Balance

Balance. A two syllable word. A word that is equalized with one syllable on each side of the separating dot in the middle. It is so very - balanced. It is so very practical. The word doesn't dance around, or wriggle with excitement. It stands strong and firm, solid and reliable.

Yet - and this is important - Balance has come to live with me as a very unreasonable and quixotic personality. I have found her to be demanding instead of one who comes to stand by my side as a helpful and enabling quality. I would love to safety pin her picture to my chest and go about my day knowing that Balance is held securely in place. Instead, I feel as if the cords of intrigue have coiled around my legs and are tripping me up each step along the way.

Take, for example, my desk. My dream vacation would be to have a condo next door to an office supply store where I would be given an unlimited gift card. I love office supplies and I adore organizing things. All the paper clips and bulldogs clips are separated by genre, size and color in their drawer. I know precisely when the supply of copy paper or page protectors is beginning to wane. And I am an expert on practically every type of writing instrument there is. The problem is this: I cannot, I absolutely cannot maintain an orderly surface on my desktop.

I love to organize but I find maintenance to be Balance's bailiwick. And she just does not share her tips. The end result? No balance. Mrs. Balance stands upright at the door, raises her eyebrow at me and cluck-clucks like a 3rd grade substitute teacher. It is most unnerving!

When I try to resolve the situation and tidy up the surface, I find I can only shuffle stacks to move them around a bit. I may dust a little as I find surface area that was once hidden. But before I know it, the piles have moved back into their positions and I'm typing over a slope of information that I can't file or I'll forget where I put it. I can only say that it is a good thing that my piano teacher taught me to keep my fingers nicely curved and uplifted. It helps while typing over debris.

I could list several other areas of struggle as I try to convince Balance to join with me instead of fighting against me. However, I won't bore you with my wrestling match with Mrs. B. Suffice it to say that I am going to rustle up a batch of cookies, and see if I can sweeten her up with some bribery. Maybe we can become friends yet. At least I know that I'll feel better after a couple of chocolate chip delights.

To Conform or Not To Conform

A little green shoot that has risen from the earth - - -
now free to ascend - - -
within the realm of its kind - - - -
to whatever beauty it may attain.......

It breathes - - -
as all living things must do - -
it drinks - - -
it must rest - - -
and above all it must grow - - - - -
for if it ceases to grow - -
it shall cease to live.........

Gwen Frostic "A Place on Earth"

We are living in, what I call, the Age of the Individual. It has become so imperative that we find our individual path that sometimes we have trouble finding a path at all! Everyone is squabbling over their rights: women have the "right to choose" whether they will murder their unborn child; illegal immigrants have a "right" to all the benefits of natural born or naturalized citizens; every citizen has the "right" to be provided for by the government when natural disaster strikes. And the list could go on and on. Ironically, the stream toward liberation and the freedom to claim our rights is countered by the movement of "Political Correctness" (a term I did not coin). I believe the cattle prod of being politically correct is one of the most dangerous means of control in our nation today.

When we become overly concerned about being politically correct in how we speak, we lose our individuality. When I say that I want to take off the shroud of political correctness, I am not endorsing verbal abuse in any of its ugly forms. I am simply wanting to be genuine with how I think and the opinions that I've grown to believe are healthy.

Unfortunately, this is a point to which I've come slowly, for I am a natural born people-pleaser. For years I've looked from afar and admired those Movers and Shakers who have leaped up the ladder of success multi-rungs at a time. Naturally, their success includes huge financial acquisitions along with wide-ranging respect. Then there is me. I am just me.

At this time of the year, I am watching the trees. Even now they show that their leaves are altering. The walnut tree is peppering her leaves over the back yard. Soon the oak trees will turn golden and provide us with enough leaf mulch to cover the flower beds with a 6 inch blanket of winter protection. Who would have thought there were so many leaves on those branches! Soon the trees will be without leaves entirely and each tree form will be seen for what it is. It's shape will be apparent to all.

A tree is not concerned about being politically correct. It is true to its form and is vase shaped, or conical or spreading.... Oswald Chambers in "Daily Thoughts For Disciples" on April 21, writes

"The only thing I can give God is 'my right to myself' (Romans 12:1). If I will give God that, He will make a holy experiment out of me, and God's experiments always succeed. The only mark of a disciple is moral originality. The Spirit of God is a well of water in the disciple, perennially fresh. When once the saint begins to realize that God engineers circumstances, there will be no more whine, but only a reckless abandon to Jesus. Never make a principle out of your own experience; let God be as original with other people as He is with you."

I know it sounds like a dichotomy to say that when I let go of my "rights" that I gain them. But it is true. As I've been writing in my blog, I'm finally finding "my voice". I'm dipping my toe in the stream of humanity and wriggling it around a little bit. And in the process I'm hoping that I will no longer conform to what I think I should be doing, but I will find that I have something to say that is important to me. Whether it will be important to anyone else or not is not my responsibility. However, my liberty is to ungag myself so that I can speak what I believe in. In the process, I'm finding out, for myself, what shape of tree I am before all my leaves falls off and everyone else views it.

Graphic design based on tutorial by April Hunt

Summer's Fairwell

We've been canning tomato juice and making salsa and while we're busily working, Summer is packing her bags and planning to leave us! I sorrow at Summer's yearly leave-taking. I dislike autumn. Now before anyone throws tomatoes at me, I'm going to explain why. I have some serious allergy microbes nesting in my system which become more territorial every year. When the air cools and the leaves begin to glow with color - my bronchial tubes close down and my nose drips in a steady stream. I move into some serious misery.

Autumn torments me. Not only does she make her presence felt physically, but she also carries nostalgia in her own suitcase and likes to unfurl pictures of the past that make me feel - well - she makes me feel nostalgic. And I don't like feeling nostalgic. I think it was Katherine Mansfield in her journal who wrote that autumn is like sitting in the dentist office knowing that something terrible was about to happen. This is not a direct quote, and it may not have been Katherine Mansfield at all who said it, but it hits pretty close to the mark no matter who said it.

Today is "Laborus Dayus". Giving Latin names to things adds an aura of importance, don't you think? Yesterday we were triple booked with going to church, fixing a lawn mower for a friend (which included a free meal as reward) and then over to another friend's house for a campfire. We got home at midnight totally bushwacked. Today we are going to a picnic for which I do not have to take a thing and for which I am very thankfulus gratefulus. Laborus Dayus is definately a day in which we labor and do not rest.

Salsa Recipe:
12 medium sized tomatoes
2 large onions
2 green peppers
2 red peppers
Jalapeno peppers (I use 2 for mild salsa and 4 for medium/medium hot salsa.)
1/2 to 1 c. sugar (I only use 1/2 c.)
1 cup vinegar (I use apple cider vinegar)
2 tbl. salt
2 tbl. Mrs. Dash seasoning (use red cap for extra spicy or green cap for normal spicy salsa. I use the green cap.)
1/4 tsp. minced garlic

Chop all the vegetables (the food processor, on chop setting, works great for the peppers and onions.) Place in a large dutch oven with liquid and spices. Simmer for one hour, stirring often. Cool and then divide into smaller serving containers. Freeze. Or you can water bath process in jars which is what I do.
Serve salsa with chips or on meat dishes. Enjoy!

Artwork in the graphic is by Mary Englebreit and is used here for nonprofit use only. Graphic is made using a tutorial by Kricket.