Sayre Smiles

First of the Month - My favorite subject

2012-02-01T16:26:00.001-05:00

This was the best of the lot. It's funny... when he knows we're gonna take a picture, they don't always come out so well. This was the second one I took today and I had to keep going because his glasses had glare. Looking back, this is the best one.

This was the first one after school. Looked a little dark, plus the reflections in his glasses...

Having the dog as a prop didn't help much - and they BOTH had eye reflections!

Okay... maybe if I back up a bit the glare won't be so big - nope! Shoot, maybe I'll just have him take his glasses OFF. He didn't like that one - says he looks weird without glasses (but his eyes sure are pretty!).

This was yesterday. It was actually a little nippy, so he put on the scarf and hat I made him - and in addition to the flannel jammies, he's got the teddy bear robe wrapped around his legs.

There it is - my favorite subject. Tune in on March 1st to see a new installment of My Boy! And to see other first of month photos, visit Jan at http://www.murrieta365.com/!

First Monday Challenge for February 6th

2012-01-26T13:48:00.002-05:00

I didn't forget. In fact, if you pay attention, you'd have seen the challenge over in the sidebar for quite some time now! But if you're the kind of person who generally ignores the sidebar (like me most of the time), here's your February challenge:

Even if you aren't currently in a relationship, everyone's had a first love (or if you want, a first date). If you would, please recount a story of either your first love or your first date!

When you post your response on February 5th, leave me a comment and I'll put your name/link on my blog so others can come read it.

Milestone reached

2012-01-24T12:00:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure when his obsession started.

Since my boy was as tall as the middle of my back, he started wanting to do the back to back measuring thing. You know - when you take off your shoes and stand back to back while a third person eyeballs the tops of your heads to see who's taller.

I'm not tall. In fact, I suspect I'm shrinking a little. But my height is somewhere around 5'3" which was a lofty goal as far as my boy was concerned. Every few months he'd want to see who was taller. Last year was absolutely tantalizing for him... he was almost as tall as me.

The measuring began to happen more often and each time he was this close, but not taller... Until last Sunday. After church, we were standing around having coffee and cookies and he suddenly looked at me and asked to be measured - right there in the middle of the Social Minute. So we did - and he was taller than me. Now I catch him eyeballing his dad's height.

I confess. It made me feel a little weepy. My boy is growing up and all that. I'm glad of it and all the changes that are coming along. His voice hasn't changed yet, but I can tell he's on the cusp of it. All proof that my baby really isn't a baby anymore.

I'll miss him, that small and trusting child of mine. I still see flashes of him though. The other night, he called me into his room after he'd gone to bed. He asked me for a goodnight hug and in the middle of the hug, he told me he loves me.

I know he does - but it's so nice to hear. I hope we can keep that part of my little boy while the rest keeps growing by leaps and bounds.

Double Your Fun!

2012-01-24T10:21:00.000-05:00

I was making breakfast the other morning with eggs from Red Dragon Farm (the girls are finally producing again!!!). Instead of my usual two eggs, I'd decided to go with just one that morning - so imagine my surprise when I cracked the egg and two yolks fell out of the shell and into my pan!

I've never seen such a thing before, but apparently it happens just often enough that there is a whole raft of supersititions about the meaning of two yolks from one egg out there.

One is that a marriage is coming up... possibly due to pregnancy. Another is of impending death in the family (which seems fairly common and is of Nordic roots). Sometimes it's simply a good omen. In the Wiccan religion, it is believed opening an egg with two yolks indicated plentifullness and good fortune: that you may expect one thing, and your expectations will be two- folded. It usually relates to fortune in finances and romance. I could live with that one!

All in all, it was a delicious egg and that's probably all the meaning there was to it. Except for this thought I had when I first saw them: I bet the makers of hollandaise sauce would LOVE to find a way to make eggs have two yolks in them. Much cheaper to make it with those kind of eggs than to buy single-yolk eggs...

Carrying Happy Around

2012-01-15T23:51:00.001-05:00

This morning, I was the only one going to church. Darling Man was tired and ZBoy was still sleeping. We decided to let him sleep since he'd recently been sick and was still getting his strength back. He didn't sleep in too long though - I was putting on my shoes when he came thumping downstairs in a panic because he thought he was late for church. I told him we'd already decided that he didn't have to go today. He smiled and said thanks because he really was kind of tired...

I finished putting on my shoes and picked up my purse and my white and blue canvas bag.

So... he said, What have you got in your Magical Bag of Goodness today? What are you working on?

My WHAT?

He patiently told me that that's what he called that bag - Mom's Magical Bag of Goodness. Because it always had some project in it that would be given to someone and make them happy. You never leave home without it, he added. It's like you carry happy around with you all the time.

Cool, huh?

**For the record, today I had several completed projects. A baby blanket and owl for a new baby and her new older brother, and another pink owl for a little girl who just turned one this past week.**

This week could have been better... but it wasn't bad

2012-01-13T21:12:00.000-05:00

I was sick this week. It's actually my second time in as many weeks. The first time I also had food poisoning, which weakend me enough to catch Darling Man's cold. I finally started feeling human again when The Boy caught the cold. He was home for three days with it - and me with him.. Of course I caught the cold again. I did get to work most of the days this week. On one of those days, I got stopped by a train. I rather like that. This was a long one, tagged a lot. At first I loved that they were cattle cars passing by. I tried to look through them to see the cows and was surprised to see that they were transporting CARS in the cattle cars! Rather funny and a little sad. I miss the cows.

I dug out my felt and decided to make some more owls. I also made a little red mouse.

I experimented with this bear a little. I think I need to play with him some more. He looks so worried! Maybe I'll make a few and call them worry bears.

This morning, the cupboard was bare, so when it was time to get The Boy up, I told him we'd go out to breakfast if he'd get up and get dressed right away. It worked.

Waiting for breakfast

Ah. Hot chocolate with enthusiastic whipped cream

Mmmm... that's the stuff!

Not a bad way to start the morning. Breakfast to go, quick ride to school and eating in the parking lot.

So while this week started out kind of badly, the ending was pretty nice. Not bad for a Friday the thirteenth.

Faith and Religion... Why are so many turning away?

2012-01-12T11:01:00.001-05:00

Last Sunday, my husband was reading to me from the newspaper... A big article called "God, religion, athiesm 'So what?' That's what many say." It made me kind of sad.

I'm not a big pusher of religion. I prefer to let my actions speak for me. When someone asks for prayers for someone or something, I oblige and do so without embarrassment. It's no secret that I have recently "returned to the fold" by rejoining the church I grew up in and take an active interest and role in being a parishoner there. But I'm not out to convert the world. I try to make a difference in my own little corner and hope that a movement of kindness and support will move out from there.

This article, however, tells me that the rest of the world is going the other way.

Some stats from the article:

* 44% told the 2011 Baylor University Religion Survey they spend no time seeking "eternal wisdom," and 19% said, "It's useless to search for meaning."

* 46% told a 2011 survey by Nashville-ased evangelical research agency LifeWay Research they never wonder whether they will go to heaven.

* 28% told LifeWay, "It's not a major priority in my life to find my deeper purpose," and 18% scoffed at the idea that God has a purpose or plan for everyone.

* 6.3% of Americans turned up on Pew Forum's 2007 Religious Landscape Survey as totally secular - unconnected to God or a higher power or any religious identity and willing to say religion is not important in their lives.

How sad. I'm not sure which of these statements bothers me the most. I suppose the one that bothers me the least is the question of heaven. That is something people just have to find out for themselves when the time comes because there is no way to know if there even IS a heaven. That would be a faith thing and faith is a very individual concept.

I don't believe in religion. It is not a thing in and of itself. Religion is a way to express and explore faith, community, the possibilites of a higher power and a coping mechanism for dealing with the uncertainties of life and what comes after it. What religion a person chooses is entirely up to them. I choose to be an Episcopalian for a couple of reasons: One, it's where I grew up and where I'm comfortable and Two, it doesn't tell me what to believe. There is a reason it is called the "Thinking Man's Church." While being closely related to Catholicism, it allows people to think for themselves and doesn't dictate who you should be, how you should act, or whether or not you're going to heaven, hell, purgatory, or into the body of a roach.

Perhaps the most disturbing of those statements would be the first and the last. Both indicate a disconnect between people and God - or even with each other. "It's useless to search for meaning." What a scary thought! Why be here at all if there is no meaning? On what do these people base their concept of happiness? How much money they have? How much stuff they have? The number of lovers or their ability to hold their liquor? When things are really bad, how do they rise above it and find the will to continue? One must think that nothing really bad has happened to these people - yet.

That day will come though. A child dies. Layoffs or firings happen. Spouses leave. Parents need help. A small cell grows uncontrolled within the body and threatens their very lives.

What will they do then? Money doesn't solve everything. Willpower can't cure cancer. Diving into a bottle causes even more problems. And a lack of connection with other people or the superficial one that comes with a lack of spirituality can't be relied on when serious help is needed.

This is where spirituality (and yes, religion) comes in. It provides a link within yourself to something bigger than yourself. Something that comforts. Something that heals. Something that surrounds you with love when there is nothing else. It builds you up and enables you to continue. That something is God. Or the Higher Power. Allah. Jehovah. And you can see Him in action through the people who surround you as part of your spiritual connection.

I have to wonder what that nearly half of the population thinks about or strives for or even cares about. It isn't you and me, that's for sure. And I suspect they don't care much about themselves either, in the long run.

****************************************************************************
A friend of mine, who happens to also be an Episcopal priest, posted this on Facebook. I can't disagree with it... food for thought.

Tottie... She loves to help.

2012-01-09T09:12:00.000-05:00

Why? Am I in your way?

See how lovely and fluffy my tummy is? How perfect my feet look on your monitor?

Really, this book here is most uncomfortable...

I am beautiful, no? So worth having on your desk.

Sick and Tired of Sick and Tired

2012-01-07T14:06:00.000-05:00

You may have noticed I haven't been around much.

Last week, Darling Man started sneezing. He thought it was from all the dust at work, but even once home and neti-potted he continued to sneeze. And have bad headaches. I let him sleep as much as possible because I know that sleep really is the only way to kick a cold.

Then I was awakened in the middle of the night by a ferocious headache. Like someone had plunged a big knive into my head up to the hilt and was wiggling it around. I took some ibuprophen and after about three hours got back to sleep - only to hve to get up an hour later for work and getting the Boy ready for school. I was slow and tired at work, but I thought that was going to be it for me.

Wrong. I started sneezing. My head ached. And the minor food poisoning I seemed to have had the previous week returned with avengence. Everytime I put something in, it wouldn't hang around long. So I'm tired from waking up in the middle of the night, undernourished from my body throwing off food shortly after it goes in and my body hurts from the pounding it's taking to the head and torso. And yet, it doesn't feel like the flu. And I can't completely disengage from my life to rest and make it go away.

Of all the things I miss about being a kid, not being able to just be sick might be right up there at the top of the list. I hated being sick as a kid. My mom was pretty strict about sick. No TV. Stay in bed. Bland, liquidy food and weak tea. If you were well enough to sit up and watch TV and eat pizza, you weren't sick enough to miss school. If I was thinking about faking it, that was a big deterrent. But when I really didn't feel well, it was awesome. I could just unplug from the world and let my body rest. I could eat chicken soup and toast and drink tea and go right back to sleep because there wasn't anywhere I had to be and nothing that I had to do.

Life isn't like that when you grow up. There seems to always be something that needs your attention. So for this moment, when I don't have to work, or feed people, or clean house or do laundry or pay bills or any of the other billion things I do on a daily basis, I think I'll crawl back into bed, pull the covers up over my shoulders and close my eyes for a while.

First Monday - Change is in the Air

2012-01-02T10:34:00.003-05:00

I'm not going to lie... 2011 was not a great year for me (or for anyone really). Several people I know died. More than a few lost their jobs. The economy was down, which has never really affected me before but it did this year as we took a pay cut (6% in my house) from our regular jobs and my husband's main freelance employer pulled out of town. On the upside there, the university gave 3% across the board raises to counteract what our Governor did to us, but it took 3 months to kick in and that was just enough to nearly put us under. My husband has found other outfits to hire him for his freelance stuff, but has had to prove himself all over again which gets old when you're actually one of the best in your field.

Obviously, financial stability isn't what I accomplished in 2011. I have some hopes for 2012, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

If you know me at all, you know that one of my favorite places to hang out is the bookstore. I don't have to buy anything but I love to peruse, to smell the books and page through the ones that look interesting. Books are expensive and when I'm in really dire straits I spend more time hanging around the bargain tables and clearance racks. I was doing this one day last summer when my eyes landed on a book by Debbie Macomber. Debbie writes romance novels. I was introduced to her one year when we were evacuating our home due to a hurricane. I'd stopped at a drugstore looking for a book to read while we rode the storm out at my parents' house and found a trilogy that tided me over. I'm not a romance reader as a rule, but her style of writing caught my attention immediately and her deft hand at drawing characters within a page left my jaw hanging in awe. So when I saw a book by Debbie Macomber on the bargain table, I picked it up.

I didn't know what it was, but the inside jacket flap asked a question I've been asking myself for quite some time: What if you, personally, could make the world a better place... by tomorrow? I've been wondering that for a while, actually. I think being a mother makes you want to better the place your child will grow up in and inherit. I also feel like being a citizen of the world I'd wish for stable economies, copious resources and peace. But I'm just me. I don't have millions of dollars to throw at the problems - but even the people who do don't seem to make a dent in any of the problems out there but tend to hoard what they have against the day everything falls apart. So what CAN I do that will make a difference? As it turns out, it really is simple. Take every opportunity to do something good. It can take any form - from holding a door for someone with arms full to making up the difference between what someone has and what someone needs, whether that be money, time or company. Sometimes just listening when someone needs to vent or telling a joke when someone needs to laugh. Take every opportunity that presents itself and run with it!

I've made a good start with this but as always, I know I can do better. I'm going to continue along these lines in 2012.

As for 2012, who knows what the future brings? Lots of people seem to think the world will end. Of course people have been thinking that forever. For some people it will. Maybe I'll be one of them. Maybe not. But whether I see 2013 or not, I intend to live each day to the best of my ability, as fully as possible. 2011 was a scary year for a number of my friends when cancer became a part of their lives. As I witnessed their struggles and fortitude, I learned a lot about life in general - and one of those things is that all we have is this day. Anything more is a gift, not to be squandered on anger or mean-spiritedness. In a way, it all ties in to what I wrote above - so I take the lessons of last year and apply them to this new one.

Truly, I believe 2012 will be one of the best years yet.

If you'd like to join in on First Monday, leave me a comment and I'll link you up.
Jill
Sandcastle Momma
Rockster
Joangee

January 1, 2012

2012-01-01T16:08:00.001-05:00

Last year, some of my blog buddies participated in a First of the Month picture meme, in which you take a picture of the same thing on the first of each month. It's a good way to see how the seasons change, how something grows... or how someone changes. One person chronicled the growth of her grandchildren. Another took pictures of the skies above her. I became aware of it too late to join in. I don't know if anyone is doing it again this year, but I'm going to do it even if they don't.

I suppose the subject of MY pictures is pretty obvious. At age 12, he's in that middle ground between child and young adult and I think the changes will be fascinating over the course of a year - so here he is on the first day of the first month of 2012 - The Boy.

If anyone else wants to join in, let me know in the comments - I'll post a link to your blog.

Jill, Faye
And this is the main link to this meme: http://www.murrieta365.com/

The Latest Enthusiasm

2011-12-27T15:36:00.000-05:00

I'm a little like my mother. Okay, a lot. I've mentioned in the past that she's always been quite talented in many, many ways. She didn't always stick with whatever she did but by golly, she mastered it before moving on to the next thing.

I tend to circle back around to mine. Sometimes a long time goes by (like with the crochet, which I'm still doing, by the way) and sometimes it takes less time. Last year, I was introduced to making felt tree ornaments. It was fun. It was cheap. I did it a lot!

For some reason, this year a lot of people I know were having babies. I whipped out the crochet hook and made six (!) baby blankets in fairly short order. Some of them also already had one kid, who was about to be displaced as king/queen of the house, so I decided to include a sibling gift as well. One little girl moved into her new room this year, decorated especially for her with her favorite colors and themes - nature, especially owls. After wracking my brain for a gift for her, I tumbled to those felt animals from last year and wondered if I could make her an owl only bigger than an ornament. I could.

This isn't the owl. I tried a couple of different versions. The original went to the little girl with the new baby sister. This one went to a little girl at church.

I was so pleased with how they came out that I turned my brain to a possibility for another new big sister who, according to her mother, is a real girly-girl who loves pink, purple, unicorns and ballerinas. I don't know much about ballet, but the unicorn - that I could work with.

This one I found online. Just the pattern with no instructions. And it was actually for a horse, so I had to make up the horn (which wasn't tough). But I was really on my own. I used felt, then had to figure out how to do a mane and tale with what I had on hand.

When I posted a picture of my white unicorn on FaceBook, another friend's daughter saw her and fell in love. So I made this pink one for her. Tried something different with the mane so this one's kind of punk - that mane just doesn't want to lay down. In this case, the improvement will probably send me back to my original method. She's waiting to go - all I need is an address.

Not long after I finished the pink unicorn, I was standing in line at JoAnn Fabrics. It was a long line and they have a rack of magazines to keep customers happy while they wait. One the cover of one was a little boy holding a red dragon. Of course I had to pick it up. One, it was a dragon. Two, it was red. Those two things together speak to my Welsh soul. I bought the magazine because it had - wait for it - a pattern inside for that dragon. I pulled it out and photocopied it in various sizes and promptly misplaced the magazine and the instructions - but I still had the pieces! I had hoped to finish one for my son before Christmas, but it just didn't happen. But I stayed up last night trying to work it through and once I did, I made some adjustments and added a couple of pieces of my own and did it again.

The blue one was the first one. He has ears, which my son is adamantly against. The purple one has two horns (which isn't apparent in this picture). He also has a couple of extra gussets to give him more dimension and I used more alternate color on him - which doesn't show up well in this picture. The first one was blue with purple accents on his belly and wings. The second one was purple with blue accents, including his spike this time. I'll keep working on perfecting my dragons. They have really caught my fancy!

So my felt animal enthusiasm has returned with avengence. I'm still crocheting too.

Christmas Past

2011-12-27T12:48:00.000-05:00

Christmas has come and gone...

It was a good one. Not too crazy, not too glitzy. Circumstances dictated a scaled down holiday in the gift department, but that kind of fit with my own head this year. I didn't miss the crush of shoppers, the doubt that accompanies handing over money for something that may or may not be wanted or needed, or the madness that seems to strike the day after Thanksgiving.

Instead, I concentrated on the real reason for the season. We did limited shopping for the Angel Tree, having chosen three children. We donated sweatshirts and socks to the homeless shelter/mission downtown. There were gifts for family but many of them were handmade rather than bought. Books rounded out much of the rest of our Christmas.

There was church. I lectored at both Christmas Eve services, so attended both. The early service was for children, who each got a piece of the nativity as they came in. We sang those beautiful carols, the kids built the nativity (though Fr. R pulled the wisemen out, explaining that they weren't supposed to arrive until the 6th). The altar, which had loooked a bit over blown in the light of day, was soft and welcoming in the light of evening and candles. The sermon was short but sweet, informing us that when God became man, he took up residence in each of our hearts as well. If we ever went looking for God, all we had to do was search our own hearts. It was beautiful.

I had to leave in the middle of the later service. The incense was broken out and swinging and smoking its way down the aisle and I knew I was in trouble. Even since I quit smoking (can it really be 8 years now?) I've been super sensitive to any kind of smoke or particulate matter in the air. I got through my reading, feeling the itch and closing-off sensation the whole time. I got through the sermon aimed at adults, but that's about as far as I got. I had to leave. It's kind of ironic, as I've always loved when the incense was used. The smell is wonderful, but I just can't handle the smoke of it anymore.

Christmas morning was lovely. The pile under the tree was quite small (and mostly for Kylee), but we loved the gifts we gave and received. The frivolous gift this year for my son was a pan-pipe. He had spotted it in Ten Thousand Villages (a fair market store) and fell in love with it. Darling Man went back and got it later and the Boy was so thrilled when he unwrapped it. Then we plugged YouTube into our TV and watched Zamphir videos for a bit so he could get an idea of what a pan-pipe is capable of. Of course, it's very difficult to play, which might explain why Zamphir is the only player anyone can ever think of when asked for pan-pipe musicians!

And then there was food. I hosted my in-laws, my stepson and his family, my brother Jerry and my parents. 11 people in my not-so-big house. Mom and Dad brought a few extra chairs and a card table which I put with mine and wound up with two tables seating six people each (I hate being crowded at the table - better to spread out a bit). I cooked a turkey in the Nu-Wave oven, Darling Man made pies and peeled potatoes while I ran around tidying up and pushing furniture around. Mom brought some mac & cheese, a green bean casserole (but not that usual one), some brownies and left over ham and a sweeet potato casserole. We baked frozen biscuits from Harvey's as our rolls. I also made a chocolate bread pudding. It was a feast, but there wasn't much left over at the end. I boxed much of the leftovers up and sent them home with my stepson.

There was a brief gift exchange during which Kylee really raked it in. Little stuff, but lots of packages. And then people started leaving. When the door closed behind the last guest, exhaustion came rolling over me in waves. I sat down and put my feet up and we just hung out for the rest of the evening. Ten o'clock saw us all in our beds. Darling Man was already snoozing. The Boy was playing on his computer (laptop) before turning out the light, and I read a little but my eyes were so heavy, it didn't last long.

Another Christmas come and gone. It was a good one. I think we're finally getting down to doing it right.

Isn't it ironic?

2011-12-22T13:20:00.002-05:00

My boy is a pretty smart cookie. He reads almost constantly. He thinks about math. His state testing scores are quite high, placing him in the upper percentiles. So it wasn't a total surprise when he was tapped to be a mentor for younger kids at the school.

There are a couple of presents under the tree now - one of them from the teacher of the class he's mentoring in. He usually has a different kid every time he goes, but has had Andrew for a few weeks in a row now.

I asked him why, what was it that Andrew needed from him? And my boy says to me, He has trouble staying on task, so I help him with that. You could have picked my jaw up off the floor.

See, from kindergarten all the way through last year, that was a MAJOR complaint from ALL of his teachers - an inability to focus, to stay on task, to pay attention. He'd daydream or read under his desk (yes, he got in trouble for reading in class) or just draw pictures. Since he always got As and Bs, obviously something was sinking in, like kids who study to music or executives who doodle while making a deal - he thinks better when something else is going on. I know that, but teachers like to SEE kids paying attention so they can be sure they're learning.

So I find it somewhat ironic that MY son is trying to teach another kid how to "stay on task". Of course, if anyone knows how to change that behavior, I guess it would be my boy!

Wordy Wednesday

2011-12-21T08:40:00.000-05:00

We woke up to the blessed sound of rain dripping onto the roof. Not pounding. Not the occasional drop, but something a little more than that. It made getting out of bed much harder this morning, so of course there was a last minute rush to get stuff found, put on, brushed and eaten. The Boy rarely likes to eat when he first gets up, and lots of mornings he goes to school on Instant Breakfast. This morning though, he wanted a bagel. I told him he could eat it in the car. As we began backing out of the drive, he yelled STOP! I forgot my book! He's a reader, that boy. He is almost never without a book. I handed him the house key and he ran back in for it.

He dashed through the raindrops, bagel and book in hand and jumped into the car. Not long ago, he discovered Mark Twain in the form of Tom Sawyer and when he found out that there was another book like that, he was ecstatic. One of his aunts gave him Huckleberry Finn years ago, but only now is he reading it - thrilled to have found it in his closet!

He's really enjoying it. Picked it up yesterday and today he's only got about a fourth left to read. Since they're doing mid-terms today, he knew he'd have some free time to fill so he HAD to have his book!

Not waiting for school, though. He read all the way there and I had to tell him to put it up before getting out of the car. It's the last day of school before the holidays, and he's absolutely thrilled about having a break. I can relate. I've got the week off between Christmas and New Years and I'm looking forward to the break too. Sleeping in in the morning, having a lazy breakfast. Doing whatever I feel like doing for a whole week. It doesn't get much better than that! And for Z, that "whatever he feels like doing" is going to include a lot of reading.

Holiday-Challenged, That's What I Am!

2011-12-19T18:19:00.000-05:00

Another day done. And on this day, I actually managed to accomplish some Christmas-type things. I wrapped a couple of presents. Got a few packages in the mail. Sent off a couple of Christmas cards.

I'm bad at "normal" Christmas. I never get presents for everyone. People who get cards from me are rare. This year I'm actually ahead on that score, but with cards for people who aren't usually even on my list (though a few will become permanent members of my list which is the kiss of death as far as getting future cards from me). My source for family addresses can barely remember her own, so I have to wait for cards to arrive before I can send them out because once again I have managed to lose my address book. It's somewhere in my house, probably in a closet or fallen behind headboard - wherever it is, you can be sure it won't turn up before the holidays are over though (sigh).

Decorating is minimal. We have some lights wound around the posts on the front porch and an artificial tree in the family room. It's a far cry from the over-the-top decorating of years past.

Christmas is lean this year. We're all getting a book. Honestly, there isn't that much that we want. At least right now. Even my son only wants four things: A book, a chocolate orange, a video game, and a lego set. He earns his own money and buys what he wants after saving up for it. I told him he was making it hard to buy presents for him, which is when he came up with his four things.

My parents and hopefully brother Jerry are coming for Christmas dinner. So are my in-laws and I think (but don't know) my stepson and his family - so I'll have plenty of people to feed around my table.

I'm going to two services on Christmas Eve, reading at both. I'm truly looking forward to seeing the church decked out with all the candles lit at night. The only other service that comes close to that kind of feeling is Epiphany's candlelight service. It's been so long since I came to this church though, that I don't know if they still do that. Guess I'll find out come January 6th.

Instead of going shopping, I took the boy and we went caroling. Instead of grabbing a burger between sales, we're gathering for a simple meal before a roaring fire in the parish hall. To me - THIS is Christmas.

Really - that is the Christmas I'm looking forward to - the church side, the family gathering side - just spending time with people I love.

If that makes my way of having Christmas unusual or wrong, I don't want to be right.

It's not easy getting Green

2011-12-18T15:47:00.001-05:00

This week is a big week for churches all over the world. One of two major holidays occurs then and in our parish, Christmas Eve is the night to go. We've already been active in getting our Christmas on - with angel trees and fundraising for the mission downtown. It took four trucks to haul away all the stuff we collected for the
Angel Tree - and I don't know how much money we raised for the mission. The Parish Day School has put on their plays and tonight we go caroling before having a potluck chili supper. Yep. Busy time of year.

We've also been collecting money for poinsettias for the "Greening of the Church." Now, I've recently returned to the fold, as it were - and I never really gave it any thought when I was younger - who decorates the church for Christmas? I always figured it was the Altar Guild, and maybe it used to be that way, but now it's kind of a big deal and they ask for volunteers to help out. So this year, I decided to join in even though I'm not really very good at floral decorating-type stuff.

Um. Wow. This was a HUGE production. With lots of players who all had their own ideas about what should be done and who should do it. See that wreath? It is absolutely gorgeous! One of our church members made it using an old form from a previous year. But the wall behind the altar has recently been redone and there was no way to put the wreath up there. So they tried it over here. Um. yeah... no. It was just too big for that space.

Finally, after several incarnations of decorating the middle (including a rather hideous frame for a poinsettia pyramid), it was decided that we'd find a way for that wreath to hang on the wall behind the altar. Someone went and bought some white hooks and brought a drill back. Someone else found a ladder and the wreath was removed from the too small wall and it got hung on the rear wall. I was pretty sure that after the wreath went up, the rest of the decorating would fall into place. It did. Really, get the focal point done and decorate around it. It's the only way to go.

The nativity scene needed a little work... greenery was added to the roof of the manger, and the hurricane-like seas of burlap were toned down a bit. Three angels were put up high with a few magnolia leaves and doves to watch over the proceedings.

The Advent candles already had greenery around them, but we added some holly with berries attached to liven it up a little. Things were starting to come together. Allan and I went to find more magnolia leaves, poinsettia and evergreen shrubs were placed, white lilies of some kind graced the shelf below the wreath. Slowly but surely, it was coming together.

I am one to err on the side of simplicity. I'm not one for the overdone look, which it seemed we might be going for for a while there. But Christmas is special and the beauty of the church when I left was definitely enhanced. Our floral lady was still puttering around when I left, but I think we were essentially done. Just before I left, I put two poinsettias out under the cross by the entrance and put some evergreen boughs behind it. Puts a little Christmas-y touch out there before you ever even get in.

It was an experience - and now I know how it gets done. Believe me... it's a miracle.

Hallellujah!!! The Day has Finally Come!

2011-12-17T20:49:00.001-05:00

It's been a long, long time coming.

I remember this kid... the first time I laid eyes on him, he was moving into my house. He was 17, in trouble, and his mother didn't know what to do with him anymore. She asked Darling Man if he could come and live with him.

The problem was, Darling Man had just moved in with me. He'd been there a month and we were still new enough that he didn't know how having his troubled 17 year old son come live with us would affect US.

Being the oldest and only girl in a family of six children, I knew about teenaged boys. And I felt pretty confident that I could handle whatever came our way. I told Darling Man to bring him on down.

There were days when it worked and days when it didn't, but overall, I think things went pretty well.

At the time, we were living way out of town in a two-bedroom mobile home sitting on two acres of field. There wasn't anything nearby, so we made our own entertainment. My favorite memory of those days was the three of us sitting on the back deck playing Scrabble. I love Scrabble and am pretty good at it - but KM beat both me and Darling Man repeatedly. And we made up a game for when the game was over. As words were made, we'd write them down and at the end of the game, we each had to write a story using the words we'd made in the order they were written down. Lots of times, we were rolling around on the floor crying with laughter at the ridiculous stories we'd come up with.

It wasn't all rosy though. We moved into town so KM would have access to school. Unfortunately, he also had access to questionable friends and bad habits. He was still young enough to think it was cool to drink or smoke a little (sometimes a lot). He didn't do well in school. He got and lost several jobs. It was frustrating because this "kid" was so damned smart! He was well read and could really think - which is a rarity these days. His ideas were amazing! But his friends and his "hobbies" were bringing him down.

We moved to the country again, and after a series of bad decisions, I told DM that he had to go. That if he didn't, I would. KM surprised us again and joined the Army.

While in the Army, he met his wife P. They got married and had a daughter. KM got out of the Army and was delivering pizza while going to school and taking care of the baby. Then P got orders to go to Afghanistan. This was a very bad idea. With the help of a senator, she managed to be discharged before having to ship out. This was good - and bad. The problem was that the unemployment rate where they'd been stationed was very, very high - so being the people that we are, we invited them to come to live with us for a few months until they got back on their feet. It took 9 months for them to move out again, but he had a job delivering pizza and she signed on with a hobby store.

This went on for years, and it really was looking like pizza delivery might become KM's career, which was really sad as we all knew he was capable of doing so much more. We all were so happy when he announced that he was going back to school and taking a 2-year degree to become a registered nurse. Luckily, a lot of his credits from before transferred and before we knew it, he was hitting the books and sporting scrubs.

Those two years flew by and finally the day came this past week when he and his class graduated.

His mom flew in from the west coast to witness this huge accomplishment. She, more than the rest of us, could appreciate this as she is also a nurse/midwife and schooling was a continuous process in her life. We all filed in to the auditorium, the kids so excited they were practically bouncing in their seats. Z was thrilled for his brother and Kylee was so happy!

Darling Man looked quite snappy in his dress-up clothes, but even better was the smile that never left his face all evening.

When it was all over, he and his ex-wife exchanged a few words of pride in their son before we all filed out into the outer hallway for pictures.

KM's wife P was so thrilled. This has been a long time coming, and they've both made sacrifices to make it happen!

Proud family pictures - KM's grandparents came to witness this momentous event! Everyone was all smiles!

He's still got to pass the state boards before he can officially work as an RN, but he's already got a job at the hospital waiting for him. That will either happen next week or in January as they only test so many people at a time and his class is much bigger than the testing group. I have every faith that he will pass with flying colors and will start his career with a bang!

Congratulations to my stepson. I always hoped this day would come!

The Beauty of Proximity

2011-12-15T13:17:00.000-05:00

The heat was out last Sunday. After a lovely breakfast in the parish hall, we began wandering into the church and taking our pews. Tucker began playing the organ and the music warmed us a little as we wondered at the chill. The acolytes and the choir were lined up in teh little hallway at the end of the church ready to begin the procession when Fr. R came barrelling down the aisle yelling "Stop! Tucker, stop!" The notes died away mid-stanza as everyone gaped. Fr. R then declared that he was not going to be a medieval priest in a stone-cold church - the service was going to be in the parish hall today!

We grabbed hymnals and prayer books and filed back outside, across the courtyard and into the parish hall where tables were hastily taken down and chairs set up in rows to simulate a church-like layout. The fire still crackled into the corner fireplace and the stage area had benches and a table added to an already decorated for Christmas programs stage. It really was quite beautiful.

The piano was pulled out from the wall and the choir had chairs set up on the side. As the music began, the voices of the choir and the congregation rose above the piano and joined together in a beautiful noise. And when the opening hymn was over, and the service began, I swear I saw Fr. R jump a little at the first response, which was loud and strong. His eyes widened as he looked at the people gathered there and it occurred to me that he was experiencing the same kind of thing I was.

In the big church, the ceilings soar. The altar area is even loftier and open and the body of the church is long. When you have 100 people sitting in an area that can hold 300-400 (depending on how friendly you want to get) sound doesn't carry all that well from us to the front. And in spite of the sound system, it works the other way too. If the organ is being played, we can't hear the choir and consequently, our own singing is muted because we can't really follow the music.

But in the parish hall, we were all there responding and singing together and it was LOUD. When it came time to pass the peace, we didn't have to travel as far and we could Peace the choir too! The acolytes were a little at a loss as to how to do the stuff they normally do (no candles to light or snuff) and communion was a bit different as well, but it was actually a really nice service. When it was over, my boy took the crucifix and lead the congregation back to the church so we could return our books to the pews.

It's not something I'd want to do all the time, but everyone being as close to each other as we were was really a beautiful thing. If the heat goes out again, I wouldn't mind doing that again!

The Picture of Dorian Gray... and a decal for my car

2011-12-13T22:05:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week, I posted to Facebook that I felt like the picture of Dorian Gray - that somewhere out there was a cute little blonde having the time of her life while I was stuck in the attic paying for her sins.

I really have been feeling that way. A bit old. A bit grumpy. A bit creaky. I don't normally feel that way - at least inside (but let's face it, looking in the mirror is almost always a shock these days).

It started in early October when it felt like I was leaning my back against a metal bar. It felt bizarre but it didn't hurt. When I sat down it felt like there were tennis balls under my skin. Lying down was the same. It got to where I was always aware of those knots in my back unless I sat up perfectly straight and didn't move. Sleeping didn't help. Everytime I shifted position, I had to wake up, sit up and turn over. Then try to get comfortable so I could go back to sleep. As you can imagine, there hasn't been a lot of sleeping going on for the last couple of months.

I finally decided I needed help, so I emailed my masseuse. Yes... I have someone I call. It's usually only a couple of times a year, but Darling Man and I both find ourselves in need of her services from time to time.

So Patricia came and worked me over. It hurt at first, but finally the knots started coming undone. I could move without aching. I could breathe again without a hitch. We talked about some things I could do to help keep my back, neck and shoulder muscles loose. A mid-back bolster is probably going to be a fact of life for me for a while. I suspect my office set up isn't exactly ergonomic as the first time I sat back in my chair some of the same muscles started complaining - only this time I heard them.

Patricia had been working at a wellness clinic but wasn't anymore. She was staying home with her toddler son, doing massages as needed and casting about for some way to make some money that would allow her to stay home.

Her husband inadvertently came up with the idea. When their son was born, he wanted to do a family portrait thing on the back of his car - only he didn't want those stick figures. He wanted a fish family. Only no one had them. They called around and no one could accomodate what they wanted. So they decided to give it a go themselves. They bought a cutter and hired an artist to work on the design and finally, they had their fish family for their car.

Fish aren't all they do, though they do several different fish (the redfish pictured above is my husband's favorite). There are deer decals and various sayings. They can do custom decals too for individuals or businesses. I'm betting I can get my red dragon decals much cheaper here than importing them from Wales!

Check out their website: www.boat-car-decals.com. I thought it was pretty cool - all the stuff they could do! Yes... this is a shameless plug for my friend's business. And she gives a pretty mean massage too.

First Monday - Tradition!

2011-12-05T05:37:00.002-05:00

For this First Monday, I asked about your holiday traditions - whatever holiday you celebrate!

We celebrate Christmas at my house. My love of this holiday waxes and wanes depending on our money situation, whether or not there is a spiritual feel to it on any given year, and what the relationship weather is doing within the families.

There are years when I would have rather forget the whole thing. People acting crazy or mean and the commercialism has killed it for me a time or two. But on the whole, I enjoy the holiday season and Christmas.

My family had lots of traditions that I've brought forward to my own family. We used to "mail" letters to Santa on Christmas Eve by putting them up the chimney. Can't really do that now, as we don't have a fireplace - but every year, SANTA writes a letter to The Boy reminding him how much he is loved and to look forward to the next year. It lands in his stocking or attached to a special gift.

Speaking of stockings, that is a tradition we've carried forward. When I was little, Santa would deliver the stockings to our beds (in an effort to keep us in our rooms until Mom and Dad were ready to get up). He always managed to sneak in and we never caught him - but one year, I opened my eyes and saw him leaving my room. I was a believer for a few more years after that. As for keeping us in our beds - well, that had mixed results. Once we moved to Waverly and the kids' bedrooms were downstairs (but for one), we would excitedly visit each other but understood that coming upstairs was verboten until we could hear Dad walking around in the kitchen. This continued even after we were adults and we played Santa for each other. These days, The Boy knows there is no Santa, but he still looks forward to the stocking on the end of his bed on Christmas Day - and he also knows he should stay there until we get up.

I'm not sure how Christmas will play out this year. Darling Man has to work on Christmas Day, but I'm not sure if it 's the early shift or the late shift. The in-laws are coming for dinner, so there will be cooking.

The thing I am looking forward to the most though, is going to church on Christmas Eve. I am reading at both services. And resurrecting a tradition of long standing but the last few decades has seen it gathering cobwebs in a closet - celebrating the reason we have Christmas in the first place.

Check out some other Christmas traditions! Leave your name in the comments if you want to join in.

Joangee
Jill
Sandy
Pamela

A Little Appreciation

2011-12-04T08:06:00.001-05:00

I am not one to get all fired up and write a letter to the editor over anything. Usually when I read the paper, I just read it, think about it and then get on with my day.

This morning, though, I read an article that was entitled "Take the pressure off Santa this year" by Howard Libin - a local columnist who writes about small business management. He's also Jewish and loves to sing Christmas carols. Anyway, he was writing about the people who feel so much pressure to spend, spend, spend for the holidays - who feel that Christmas is ruined if copious amounts of money haven't been spent on loved ones in the form of gifts or entertainment. His column was quite refreshing and points out something that I've espoused for years (being the less-endowed in monetary status in my families). Christmas isn't about gifts or spending as much money in a month as you would in a year of grocery bills. It's about spending time with people you love and recognizing the fact that love is the reason for the season.

I couldn't stop myself. I had to write to Mr. Libin and thank him for speaking my mind.

Mr. Libin -

I just read your article in the Tallahassee Democrat about reflecting on blessings and not so much on the money side of things at Christmas time.

My family works hard - but the things we work hard at, while rewarding in many ways, are not necessarily jobs that bring in a lot of money. Many of us work extra jobs on the side to make ends meet and when Christmas rolls around we all cringe a little because we know we are going to be on the outside looking in when it's time to shop.

A few years ago, my brothers and I had a little pow-wow about Christmas. We were all especially broke that year and we agreed that the only presents to be purchased were for the little kids in the family - and not anything big or extravagant. Just a little something, like a book or matchbox car or stuffed animal.

We did want to do something for our parents, so we all sat down and wrote a story about our favorite Christmas growing up. It was interesting to note that we all had a different Christmas that was our favorite!

Anyway, the Christmas-with-no-Presents was one of the best ever, and we try to keep that spirit every year now. We don't exchange presents; we exchange hugs and company and stories and laughter. And these are the best Christmases ever.

Anyway, thank you for your article. It was a real bright spot in my morning.

Sayre Smiles

I hope Mr. Libin appreciates my appreciation!

UPDATE: He did! Emailed me back and said:

You're welcome! I thought that I was not alone on this!

Howard

Sweet from sour

2011-12-03T18:33:00.002-05:00

My dad is a gentleman farmer. It means that he has a large piece of land and from time to time he plants things, they grow, and he harvests them. Sometimes he's more successful than others. The pecan grove comes and goes. Not much of anything this year from those. The drought meant no blueberries which are usually in such abundance. The garden is kind of hit or miss, but for collard greens which seem to grow through almost anything. A couple of years ago, he planted a couple of Meyer lemon trees. And this year, there was a bumper crop!

Lemons started showing up on our doorstep, much to our delight. My husband loves just slicing them into rounds and eating them with honey. We had wonderful lemons to squeeze over fish and vegetables and anything else that would benefit from a little lemon juice. But when I looked at this bounty, just one thing went through my mind.... Lemon Meringue Pie!

When I was growing up, and the Northwood Mall was still... well, a mall, there was a upper class ladies' dress store in there that had a set of stairs leading up to a very nice little place for lunch called The Birdcage. They had wonderful soups and sandwiches and grilled chicken entrees - and the most amazing desserts. My favorite one was the lemon meringue pie. The filling was sweet and tart and the meringue positively soared!

It's been a long time since I had lemon meringue pie. My grandmother used to make a sort-of lemon pie with condensed milk (the recipe was inside the label), but it just didn't equal the Birdcage version.

Dad squeezed me a big bottle of lemon juice with his power juicer, which has been in my fridge and the base of several glasses of lemonade. But I kept looking at it with an eye towards pie.

Mom sent me the recipe she got out of Ebony Magazine a few years ago. I'm not sure how she wound up with a subscription to Ebony as she's a short, white, older lady not prone to fashion - but there was a recipe section in the magazine that she fell in love with - and she says their pie recipe was the best she's ever had - including the Birdcage.

So today, I made pie.

I love pre-made, rolled pie shells. No muss, no fuss - and the shell always fits the pie pan!

This recipe called for a pre-baked pie shell, so I put it in the pan and pricked the sides and bottom so it would bake flat and not bubble up too much. I've heard that you can then add some foil and fill it with dried beans to bake a perfect pie shell.

I didn't do that - and one side of my pie shell kind of collapsed. I tried to pull it back up, but wound up tearing the rest of the shell a little. So I left it as it was and hoped it wouldn't affect the pie negatively when it came time to fill it.

In a saucepan, I mixed sugar, cornstarch, salt and added cold water, lemon juice and three egg yolks (remember that - THREE). After I mixed that all together, I added boiling water and butter and brought the whole thing up to a boil (stirring constantly) for a minute. I was supposed to add grated peel after I removed it from the heat, but I forgot. I poured the filling into my deformed pie shell, THEN remembered the grated peel. Oops. Sprinked it on top and lightly stirred it into the filling. Now to the meringue...

That was not the success I'd hoped for. The recipe called for FOUR egg whites, 1/4 tsp. of cream of tartar (beaten together 'til foamy) and a half a cup of sugar beaten in. I think that might have been a typo, that four. My meringue just wouldn't form stiff peaks. It kept flopping over and sliding back into itself at an alarming pace. I checked the instructions on the actual cream of tartar jar and IT said THREE egg whites, 1/4 tsp. Cream of Tartar and half a cup of sugar. I wondered where that extra egg white came from.... now I have a yolk in my fridge waiting for morning because of that typo.

Anyway, I added a little more cream of tartar and sugar and eventually, after lots and lots of beating, got some peaks out of it. I spooned it on top of the pie filling and stuck it in the oven.

It didn't take long for the top to brown up a little, and I pulled it out. The filling still seemed a bit sloshy and I had to be careful moving the pie. I really hope it sets up solidly as it cools!

I know it will taste good (I sampled the filling left in the saucepan and had to lick the meringue bowl). And it LOOKS pretty good too! I just hope it firms up so we're not eating lemon meringue soup!

UPDATE

This is GOOD! Very sweet and tart. In hindsight, I probably should have finished letting it cool and set in the fridge after a half hour on the counter. The filling was kind of soft and didn't want to hold its shape once cut but perhaps some remedial time in the fridge will help. The meringue, while not as lofty as the Birdcage's, is still light and fluffy and tastes like a little piece of heaven floated into your mouth.

Now that I've done it, the next one will turn out better. I will know about the pie shell and the extra egg white and cooling/setting it the right way...

Still, pretty good stuff. A little on the sweet side for me. Being diabetic, that means my piece of this pie will have to be pretty small. I had a regular-sized piece and the headache is coming on. So - smaller for me, which means more for everyone else!

Not-So-Wordless Wednesday - Obsessed

2011-11-30T08:42:00.001-05:00

I thought I'd pull out all the stuff I've stashed that I've crocheted since I started up again with this.... Tottie decided that she needed to decorate this picture because she refused to move when I started puttting stuff on the bed.

These are baby blankets I need to get in the mail... All but one of these babies have already arrived!

Hats and scarves. Lots of Christmas presents here, but I won't say who gets what. That light green scarf was the first one I did (and is featured in my header picture).

A couple of afghans I've done. The green one on the left is a granny square creation that I'm STILL sewing together! Almost done though. I wish I had a little more of that yarn so I could make a border around the outside to reinforce it. There may be a trip to Hobby Lobby this afternoon...

These don't include the three prayer shawls that have been crocheted and delivered or the little odds and ends like coasters and hand warmers. As I said, obsessed.

Challenge for First Monday - December 5th

2011-11-28T08:05:00.000-05:00

Time sure is flying by... I just realized that NEXT Monday is the first Monday of the month!

Being December, everyone is celebrating something. If you're a Christian (or pretty much anyone else) you celebrate Christmas. If you're Jewish, Chanukah. Some of African descent celebrate Kwanzaa. Whatever it is you celebrate (even if it's just the weather), there's probably some tradition associated with it or a favorite memory. For our next First Monday (a week from today), I'd like to hear what it is you celebrate, how you do it and a favorite memory. Pictures are a plus!!!!

Sign up in the comments and I'll include your link on First Monday.

Fist Bump Friday / Just Fishing Friday - perhaps a little of both

2011-11-25T12:05:00.001-05:00

Today is Black Friday. Sound ominous, doesn't it? Like the plague has descended or something else equally dire. For most of the world, it's a day of standing in line, pushing through people and aisles to snatch up an incredible deal on some piece of electronics or trinket for giving away come Christmas.

I can't do Black Friday. I dislike shopping to begin with, so why would I want to do it with thousands of other people fighting each other for the same piece of cloth and handing over their plastic without thought? Besides... I'm done. I've been working on Christmas presents for quite a while now, made with my own hands. I've already bought the two presents I couldn't make. My gifts won't have designer names or big price tags on them, but they will be filled with love and thought for the person it was made for - and that's the actual purpose of giving gifts, isn't it?

So today, while the rest of the world is pushing and shoving, I will stay home with my boy and we will just chill out. The windows are open, there's food in the fridge and life is good!

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I have much to be thankful for - and that includes my very large family. Cooking for them is a challenge, but my sister-in-law Angi and I did our best with some help from brother Jerry, and John's girlfriend Lynn. The spread turned out amazing, but not without a couple of mishaps along the way.

Angi is a wonderful cook. I am a utilitarian cook. She experiments and adds marvelous flavors to her food. I tend to follow other people's recipes as I have no intuitive grasp of using herbs or different cooking methods. Between us though, we made it work.

The night before, she was cooking amazing cranberry sauce at Mom's house. It boiled over a little and she got it cleaned up - at least most of it. However, when cooking something Thanksgiving morning, the stove caught fire from the remnants of cranberry spillage. No damage done - just a startling way to wake up. And then that day, the potatoes were burned. The pressure cooker was being used and I guess someone lost track of time once the steam started coming out. When I arrived, there was a sad looking steamer basket full of brown potato cubes that didn't smell very good. A bit charred smelling.

Luckily, I happened to have a bag of potatoes in my car and we could start all over again.

I also brought my Nu-Wave oven with me to cook the turkey in. I did this a few years ago and was absolutely amazed. It came out moist and tender and it happened a lot faster than a conventional oven would have done it.

My 12 pound turkey, stuffed with apples was done in 2 hours (I think I actually overcooked it a bit as the temperature was 190 and 165 is the goal - but it wasn't dried out or chewy so it was all good), during which we peeled more potatoes, baked sweet potato souffle, steamed broccoli and made stir-fried green beans.

Jerry arrived with a smoked turkey and a smoked boston butt. The turkey was somewhat startling as it was completely black, but under that black skin, the meat was delicious!

The spread:

On the left: Lynn's corn casserole, steamed broccoli, boston butt, smoked turkey and sweet potato souffle. On the right, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, dressing, ham, turkey, and green beans. Still to come was the gravy... and then...
there was dessert:

Brownies (Mom/me), Blueberry-Banana bread (Lynn), Apple-Cranberry Trifle (Angi), and two pumpkin pies - one from Lynn and I'm not sure who made the other one. You can also see the label of a lemon cake from the store, but I don't think anyone ever opened that.

After dinner, some went shooting for a bit. The Boy got to shoot the rifle again and his Uncle Andy offered to let him shoot a pistol, but it was too loud for him to get that close to it. The rest of us finished the clean up and made coffee, then sat around and talked for a bit.

It was, in the end a tiring but very satisfying day. Z and I headed for home shortly after dark, with a pitstop at a friend's house to feed her cat. Once home, we hung out and watched TV a little before staggering off to bed and VERY sound sleep.

So there you have it - Just Fishin' by taking it easy on Black Friday, and Fist Bumping because once again, we pulled off Thanksgiving in a most satisfactory way!

Go visit Jill for more fishin' and bumpin'!

Having a Blast

2011-11-19T21:04:00.000-05:00

Darling Man was busy today, covering football in Gainesville and Mom needed me to come help out at the farm before the holiday arrived. The Boy came along in hopes of earning a few dollars. As soon as we got there, I set him to work cleaning every fan in the house. And when Dad got back, he went with him to retrieve the recycle and trash bins from the side of the road, put new bedding in the chicken nests, and washed my car, John's car and Dad's car.

We took a little break and went to the Magnolia Cafe for lunch - had Italian Wraps and the best chili I've ever tasted. I'm not sure I can ever eat that stuff out of a can again. I did manage to spill my iced tea all over the place, and the Boy laughed out loud and said "For once it wasn't ME!" I felt pretty stupid, but he made me laugh.

After lunch, we went back to the farm. I went back to work in the house while Dad and Boy transplanted spinach to containers and one of the raised beds. A bit later, they came in for a drink and Dad said he thought it was time for the Boy's first shooting lesson. I didn't know eyebrows could go that high. He turned to me and and asked in a tremulous voice - Can I?

He offered a while ago but Boy was reluctant. He was afraid the noise would be too much - and the very idea of firing a gun in the first place was intimidating. But he SO wanted to do it... he's finally old enough to handle the idea.

We jumped in the golf cart, made a pitstop at the barn for ear protection and headed down to the firing range.

First they hung some targets. These are called yellow jackets, which was unfortunately apt as every time I went up close to it, a yellow jacket buzzed my legs.

Then the lesson began. The rifle in question was a .22 - a good size for learning. Dad keeps it for varmints - mostly the kind that eat his chickens. He explained about how to hold a gun and where it should be pointed when not being actively shot. He had a very interested student.

And finally, they got down to the nitty gritty - The Boy got to SHOOT! Dad showed him how to hold it, how to sight, how to cock it and how to pull the trigger.

He shot three times and hit the target all three times! Oh, my - he was so stoked! And hooked.

Then he learned how to do it from different positions - standing, kneeling and prone. That's a chicken feed bag he's lying on. Prone turns out to be his favorite position - and his best one.

Check THIS out!!!! Two inside the nine ring and one in the eight! Those were prone shots.

Holidays around here just got a lot more interesting for him. Now he can join is uncle the cop, his other uncle's girlfriend.. the cop, another uncle the Army Colonel and of course his Grandpa the gentleman farmer.

Love 'Em, Hate 'Em, Don't Really Care

2011-11-19T07:27:00.000-05:00

My Special Moment is a little overkill

Every now and then McDonald's "brings back McRib" and everyone goes crazy. Since I rarely eat at McDonald's (and when I do, I favor the Quarter Pounder), I never tried a McRib.

My brother Andy LOVES them and is thrilled when they come back. A friend at church finally tried one and decided that she likes them too. I'd been seeing these commercials and listening to raves for a while, so I decided it was about time that I jumped on the bandwagon and try one.

On a day when I forgot to bring my lunch and had no plans to lunch with someone else, I drove through McDonald's takeout window and bought one.

McRib is a Tangy Temptation according to the box.

I set it on my desk and considered. If I didn't like it, I'd have wasted $1.99 and had a not-great lunch. But it would be worse if I did like it - the cost was small, but I would be jumping on the McDonald's McRib Lemming Train and wanting one constantly while they were available and yearning for them when they weren't...

I opened the box. The bun looked pretty good. The sauce dripping down from the inside was appetizing. Presentation left a bit to be desired though - and the drippage made the bottom bun a bit soggy.

Opening the top of the bun though... First of all, it was covered with pickles and onions, which I promptly cleared off. I am quietly famous for hating pickles and I felt like the onions were overkill. And then there was the meat itself. Billed as boneless rib meat, it seemed to be more like meat that had been minced and then pressed back into a form that tries to fool you into thinking you're actually getting ribs. They were trying to fool me!

I guess I don't have anything against pressed meat, per se. I don't mind a chicken nugget now and then or spam or slices of ham that really aren't slices from the deli counter - but something about this just rubbed me the wrong way. The previous items don't pretend to be anything other than what they are - but McRib wanted you to think that it was actually boneless ribs even though it looked like the bones were still in there.

I put my irritation at this subterfuge aside though, and took a bite. And.... meh. The sauce was good but the meat didn't actually taste like anything at all. Including meat. It was like chewing solid air - and it was chewy - but there was no satisfaction to be had from McRib for me.

Honestly, I'm a bit relieved. I hate being a slave to food cravings, and I kind of pride myself on craving the good stuff - which, to me, McRib is not. Now... where'd that brie go?

Just Fishin' Friday

2011-11-18T17:25:00.000-05:00

Growing up, my grandmother LOVED to take us for ice cream. I think we were actually just an excuse, as she absolutely adored the stuff and went for it every chance she got.

It's more of a once-in-a-while kind of thing for us. A treat on a really, really hot day or a reward for a job well done.

Report cards came out a couple of weeks ago. My stepson was shadowing a doctor at the hospital, so we were picking up Kylee three times a week from school - including on report card day. I would pick her up, then drive up to the Boy's school and pick him up - and on the way home was Baskin Robbins. We had cause to celebrate that day - Kylee got 2 B's and the rest A's, and Boy got 1 B and the rest A's!

I told them they could have an adult scoop of whatever kind of ice cream they wanted. K went for vanilla, and Z went for Reeces Pieces ice cream. And I went for the chocolate chip - Baskin Robbins is one of the few places you can actually get plain chocolate chip!

I don't know if they'll remember this when they grow up, but I will. Getting ice cream with Grandma (or in the Boy's case, Mom) was always a treat when I was a kid. I hope they feel the same way.

More stories of Just Fishin' or Fist Bumping can be found at Jill's blog!

Time for a Change

2011-11-13T21:49:00.001-05:00

There are a lot of signs that my son is growing up. The grocery bill is getting bigger. As are his shoes. His clothes will be fine until the day he suddenly can't fit into anything. His voice is starting to deepen a little and there are those crazy mood swings that belong to people going through hormonal changes... be they pubescent children or menopausal women. (Some days I feel sorry for my husband who's got one of each living in his house.)

He surpassed my shoe size a couple of months ago, and fairly often, I find myself back to back with him as he tries to figure out if he's gotten taller than me yet. It's apparently a tantalizing goal that's been just out of reach, now by only a fraction of an inch.

As Mom, I've always looked out for him. I wiped his nose, kissed his boo-boos, picked him up when fell down, and held his hand as we crossed the streets of our life together.

We went for a long walk today, just the two of us. We walked down the big hill in our neighborhood to a busy street and crossed it to walk in the neighborhood I finished out my teen years in so long ago. We walked and talked just like my dad and I used to do when I was a disgruntled teen. He'd see me agonizing over something (as teenaged girls are wont to do) and tell me to put on my sneakers. Then we'd walk up and down the hills of our neighborhood until the story came out and fatherly advice dispensed. This usually happened at night and somehow the darkness made it so much easier to spill my heart out.

The sun was out and it was lovely cool today as the Boy and I walked. We didn't really talk about anything heavy but just enjoyed the weather and each other's company. Every once in a while, we'd hold hands for a few seconds - to cross a road or just to share being there together. After we'd done that a few times, I noticed something odd.

When we held hands, my hand was in his. Up until this day, his hand had always been in mine - the one that enfolds his and protects it - and him by extension - the one in front with its back to the world as the inside of it cradled my baby's small hand. Today, without plan, my hand was in his.

This day came much sooner than I expected.

Just Fishin' Friday

2011-11-11T19:33:00.000-05:00

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Today was a free day. After my husband went to work, it was just me and my boy. When we find ourselves home alone, we have "date" night.

After delivering the latest prayer shawl, we went to see Puss in Boots. After a quick stop for drinks and nachos, we climbed the stairs in the dark and found two seats...

I love to hear him laugh. Puss was in fine form but I have to say that egg seriously creeped me out.

Afterwards, I asked him - dinner out? or back home for lasagne? He allowed that he wasn't all that hungry, but since lasagne takes over an hour that would work.

We don't go to movies often, and it's more of a thing with us as Darling Man doesn't really enjoy going to movies. Mom and Boy time.

I love it. One day, maybe he'll remember these days and relive them with his own kids.

Want more fishing or fistbumps? Go visit Jill!

Tough Discussion

2011-11-11T11:29:00.000-05:00

Thanks to the recent news about Penn State's child sex abuse scandal, the ride to school this morning was a little more uncomfortable than usual. Just before we left, the news was showing video of the students protesting the firing of Joe Paterno and on the way to school, Z asked what all the fuss was about.
Oh boy.

He's pretty aware that there are people who are not good out there who can/will take advantage given the chance. He also knows there are people who would physically hurt him. He's taken martial arts classes and is perfectly capable of hurting someone back in order to get away or defend himself. But up to now, his main concern has been bullies at school. This takes us into a whole new realm.

So I told him what the story was with regard to Penn State. Then I asked him if he knew what sexual abuse of a child actually was. He shook his head, so in very simple terms I explained about violation of person and how that can scar a person for life with feelings of helplessness and an inability to trust. That the inability to trust another person is a horrible thing to live with and that it can warp your entire life's dealings with other people, including the ones who really do love you.

He shuddered a bit, then asked if Joe Paterno did it and was that why he was fired. I told him no - but having knowledge of something like that carries its own responsibility in reporting and preventing it from happening again. Paterno did report it, but did nothing beyond that and more children were hurt by this man who worked for Paterno because no further action was taken.

And those students jumping up and down and screaming and destroying property? Have no idea what any of this is about. That is how I would feel if something like that happened to YOU. I would be so angry! And I would do everything I could to make sure that it never happened again to you or to anyone else. That's where the anger should be placed. The Board of Trustees knew that and THAT is why Joe Paterno and the president of the university were fired. They did not follow through to make sure that no one was ever hurt by this guy again. ZBoy nodded that he understood that.

This was followed up by the "if this ever happens to you, you must tell" speech. Avoid it if you can, but if you can't for some reason - TELL. Then we can hopefully keep it from happening to someone else and we can get help for you to help you live as normal a life as possible. So many children don't tell because they're afraid or the perpetrator has threatened them or their family in some way. Telling takes his power away. Always tell.

It was quiet in the car for a minute.

"Wow. You guys really love me, don't you?" Yes, baby. We do. Now go and have a wonderful day and don't let this poison your thoughts today. Don't give him any power over you either.

And he did. He had a wonderful day.

Around the Block a Time or Two

2011-11-08T09:44:00.000-05:00

I love the drives to school - my boy and I wind up talking about so many different things.

Today's trip started out talking about church. He's really enjoying going to his youth group on Wednesday nights. Then he asked about one of the kids who comes on Wednesday, but we never see him in church on Sundays. Z was wondering why that was (and perhaps secretly hoping I'd have an answer he could use on me those days he'd rather sleep in).

I told him that his parents are divorced and he probably was with his dad on Sundays. That surprised him. He said his friend seemed like such a happy, go lucky kid - how could his parents be divorced?

He's a little sheltered, I guess. Most of the kids he knows are from divorced homes. He also sees a lot of kids with problems. Anger issues, behavior problems, extreme shyness. Most of his friends have young parents too, who maybe aren't as circumspect in expressing their own anger or frustration at home.

The Boy did say that at least he would never have to deal with that... moving between two homes and having parents who didn't get along.

On the surface, I agree with him. But "never" is one of those words that should not be tossed around lightly. There was a time when I wondered if my own marriage would make it, but we worked it out. And it worked out because we truly love each other and didn't want to give it up just because we were angry with each other about something. Part of it is because we were friends before we were anything else. And part of it is because we've been there before with different people and understood the pitfalls of finger-pointing and blame.

Relationships are not easy. Even the best ones take work and compromise. And sometimes, even that is not enough when people have different values or grow in different directions. There are times when it IS better to split up.

He digested this for a moment. I could see the question forming over his head - but what would happen to ME?

I reassured him that at this point in our lives, divorce is not on the horizon and God willing, never will be - but if it did happen for some reason, his father and I love him enough to put aside our differences to make sure he would be okay, taken care of and happy.

And maybe that's the difference between being a grownup and an immature adult... A grownup is willing to take care of their responsibilities to the best of their ability and an immature adult is just worried about his/herself and what they get out of it. The Boy is lucky to have two grownups as parents. Unfortunately, not many of his peers are that lucky.

A Thankful Fun Monday

2011-11-07T12:18:00.000-05:00

November seems to be a month when many people open their eyes and look around. Really look around. And they see things like dwindling salaries and rising prices and the stresses of the holidays looming ahead. But interestingly, they also start seeing the things they are grateful for in their lives.

I'm sure the holiday of Thanksgiving being here in this month has something to do with it. And since we're also involved in a war, Veteran's Day might also spark some feelings of thankfulness. But I have to wonder sometimes if it's not the changing season on its way to the harshest time of the year that spurs this looking inward for some things to get us through to Spring.

I practice daily thankfulness. Everyday, no matter how bad or discouraging it may be, I try to find something that makes my heart happy to be beating on that particular day. Sometimes it's just the fact that the lights come one when I flip a switch. Sometimes it's knowing that my family loves me. Big or small, this and every day is a good time to acknowledge it.

The first thing on my list is my own family. A man I love and who loves me (after some major disasters in my previous love life) and this amazing, funny boy that we made together.

Then there's the rest of my family... This all of us at that time... Since then, we've added a few. Two brothers got married to wonderful women and another one has a girlfriend who is becoming one of us too.

I am grateful for my job. I can't think of much I'd rather do. It's interesting. I have awesome co-workers (pictured above running the camera is Nick, who died earlier this year - we still miss him), and have met some very cool people, from Mr. McFeeley to Ira Flatow to George Clinton. Things aren't perfect, but I'd like to keep this job as long as I can because I really love working here.

I am thankful for the furry beings in my life. My cats are wonderfully snuggly and loving. My dogs are happy.. . enthusiastic about spending time with us and serious about protecting us. Even Abby, who is an old lady dog - but she's decided that this is HER house, we are HER people and she'll do everything she can to protect what's hers.

And finally (for this particular post), I am grateful for my home. It's strong. It's comfortable. It's a mess and a work in progress. But it's ours and we'll be here for a long time to come, God willing.

My list could go on for ages, but I'll stop here and urge you to go visit the other participants in today's Fun Monday!

Bethany
Jill
Joangee
Sandy
Pamela

And if you'd like to join in, leave me a comment and I'll add you to the list!

Fun Monday for November 7th

2011-11-06T19:59:00.000-05:00

Jill reminded me that tomorrow is Fun Monday - which I completely forgot. If you want to play, here's what I want to know about:

November is a month to recognize the things you are thankful for in your life - including the people who are serving our country. Tell us what you are thankful for!

Sign up to participate in the comments!!

Fist Bump Friday: Got through it!

2011-11-04T12:03:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, just getting through the week is cause for celebration... Even when it's a packed week of good stuff, there's also not-so-good stuff.

Not-so-good:

Had the granddaughter three times this week. Not that that's bad in and of itself, but her school gets out earlier than my son's and I wind up having to take two hours of leave time every time I have to pick her up from school. In the course of these three weeks, I will have pretty much wiped out any vacation time I had. Darling Man hasn't been able to help out here as he's been working nights for someone else and next week isn't going to be any better in that respect.

Technical difficulties... PBS's satellite system had unexplained problems with the two main transponders. Since a lot of stations (ours included) broadcast most of their daytime programming straight from the network, there was some major scrambling happening both at a national and at a station level. Our hurricane preparedness plan paid off however, and we had programming available to air until PBS had a plan implemented. The rest of the week was dealing with refeeds of programs that got bumped because of the shifting transponders. I really hope I caught everything that got moved!

Tired. Even though I normally sleep like the dead, I've been having some weird issue with my back that keeps waking me up. It doesn't hurt, but it's uncomfortable. Feels like a golf ball lodged in my spine. Unless I'm sitting up straight without my back touching anything, I feel it. Don't like it. It might be very tight muscles, I might have lifted something wrong, I may have a bulging disc. I don't know but may have to go get it checked out after Thanksgiving.

Good Stuff:

Sunday, my son was confirmed by the Bishop, my husband was received by the church and we had a wonderful feeling of really belonging to our church.

Halloween was a blast! The kids had fun and the Sno-Ball people were back to handing out free sno-balls to all the trick-or-treaters. My boy LOVED the costume I slaved over.

We had a potluck dinner at church and used up some of the awesome beef and turkey stews we had at the Senior Luncheon the week before (I had the last of the beef stew and cornbread for lunch today!). While we listened to Fr. R talk about confirmation in the Episcopal Church, the EYC kids were carrying on a very old tradition of playing hide and seek in the cemetery next door. I remember doing that myself - and it was so much fun with the added element of dark and cemetery!

I got to spend some time working on my latest prayer shawl and hung out with my kid and husband watching "Big Bang Theory." After much consideration and waffling, I've decided that I like that show.

Enjoyed a little irreverence at work. There's a National Emergency Alert System Test next week (Nov. 9 at 2pm ET). We missed the original feed of the PSA that tells about the test, so we had to download it from their website. Darling Man was working on it. Being raised in the 50s, he grew up with all kinds of dire warnings. Last week, we aired a program called "World's Biggest Bomb" - a part of the "Secrets of the Dead" series. So, as a joke, he edited together the very serious PSA about the test and footage from the show. Talking head on screen says, "And remember - it's only a test" followed by nuclear explosion footage... It doesn't sound at all funny in print, but everyone in the room doubled over laughing. It was so implausible and the timing was so perfect and it was just so funny! It belongs on the Big Daddy reel (where other irreverent spots live like the "Bloody T-Shirt Contest" that was made during the Ted Bundy trial. Yes, TV people are sick that way. Gallows humor, similar to hospital and law enforcement workers have, is a staple with us. And laughter - even inappropriate laughter - makes the day so much easier.

And tonight I'm going to a silent auction and dinner at the church. I'm going to meet my friend there and we're going to feast on Mexican food and check out some possible Christmas presents and just enjoy a night out under the stars!

I survived this week - and sometimes, that's quite an accomplishment!

Go visit Jill for more stories!

Like a Prayer

2011-11-03T15:01:00.000-05:00

I think I get my urge to do things with my hands from my mom. When I was growing up, she was always doing something. She painted pictures and walls; sewed curtains, clothes and costumes. She was famous in the family for pushing around furniture, or reupholstering it or refinishing it. And for a while, she tried crochet. We took a class together at Gilberg's in the Northwood Mall back when I was thirteen or fourteen. Neither one of us was very good at it. She always had her tension too tight and mine just never looked right. It was worth a shot, but it wasn't too long before both of us gave it up and moved on to other things.

Fast forward thirty five years... I'm feeling the urge to do something, but I don't know what that is. I'm wandering around the new Hobby Lobby looking at paints and fabrics and embroidery stuff and nothing is speaking to me - until I round the corner to the first yarn aisle. Several of my friends online are into knitting and crochet and have been posting pictures of their various projects. Knitting never made any sense to me but I did remember some basics about crochet. As I wandered the yarn aisles feeling the skeins and admiring the pretty colors, I felt a pull. Half an hour later, I walked out with a set of crochet hooks and an armload of yarn.

It took several practice tries, but I found it was kind of like riding a bike. You get rusty, but you never forget. I started easy with scarves.

I tried adding fringe. It worked! I made a lot of scarves.

Then I tried hats. Pretty good, but not as successful.

I made dish rags (aces!!!) and fingerless gloves (meh).

I made some big squares of stuff but didn't know what to do with it - pillows maybe?

And since I suddenly knew a bunch of people having babies, I made baby blankets. LOTS of baby blankets.

Now I just have to come up with the money to mail them all...

So I did all this stuff.... and then, I didn't know what to do. Honestly, I was getting a little bored. And, as I discovered, I was terrible at following directions when it came to crochet, so I was making stuff up on my own using the stitches (but not knowing the names) that I knew.

One night, I was on Facebook looking around at other friends' projects and wishing I had something positive I could do with the little skill I had, when my rector's wife popped on and asked if I knew about the Prayer Shawl Ministry. Never heard of it! She'd been cleaning out some files and run across the brochure for it and offered to send it to me. Talk about heavenly timing...

I opened the files and it was immediately clear to me that this was what I should be doing. I read the pattern directions for the prayer shawls and looked at some shawls that my friend Sandy was crocheting (I just thought this was something she did - didn't realize it was part of a greater ministry) and started on my first one. I had a recipient fixed in my mind, but about halfway through, God planted another person in my head. This person has had some pretty awful medical issues. None of them life-threatening, but they have caused great pain for a long time and so far the doctors haven't been able to do much to alleviate it. Fibromyalgia is no fun and there's no cure. So with the new recipient fixed firmly in my mind, I finished it.

It wasn't exactly like the one described in the pattern - I'd tried to do something a little different with the stitches. They turned out very pretty.

I left the completed shawl wrapped and in a gift bag on the doorknob of my first recipient. She was so happy and surprised to find it.

When making a prayer shawl, you say a prayer for your intended recipient before you begin, then the whole time you are crocheting (or knitting - you can do either), you keep them in your mind and heart, praying for them as you stitch. When you finish, you say another prayer for them, then make arrangements to deliver it to the recipient. It represents many hours of prayer and work on behalf of someone else and is designed to bring comfort to the wearer. Like wearing love around your shoulders.

My second prayer shawl knew where it would wind up from the beginning. It's the one that most closely follows the prayer shawl pattern - but the colors are quite bold. Most of the ones I've seen are in fairly subdued colors, but this one screamed for vibrant colors.

The recipient of this one is facing several health challenges. Just before gallbladder surgery, he found out he also was going to be dealing with a recurrence of cancer. I finished it just before his surgery. He goes back to his oncologist mid-month to undergo testing to see just how his cancer had returned.

He also appears to be a remarkably resiliant man with great faith - but it always helps to have others praying for you as well, so I made this for him so that he would know that his church family loves him and the comfort of that knowledge can be wrapped around his shoulders as he sits in various cold rooms during his treatments.

When I finished that one, I started another. I had no idea who it was for. Like all the others, it is imperfect. It's an alternating off white and turqoise, meant to be three-three-three, but apparently I lost count and so I've got three-three-three-four-three-four-three-three-three... But the pattern that emerged was nice, so I kept it and kept working on it. It's close to finished and only now do I know who it belongs to. Up until last night, I offered general prayers of comfort, healing and closeness to God as I crocheted. As it turns out, those were the right prayers - the woman who will receive this will probably be saying goodbye to her husband soon.

She has family, but they are scattered - and she has us. So in the future, when she is missing her husband she will be able to wrap herself in the love and comfort of the prayers of her church family and know that we care.

It's not quite done, but probably by the end of tomorrow. While I do "sign" my name on these by way of a card, it's a semi-anonymous offering to represent ALL of the people who care and who pray.

If you're interested in checking this minstry out, follow this link: Prayer Shawl

Trick or Treat!

2011-10-31T20:23:00.000-05:00

Halloween is pretty much THE holiday at my house. I didn't get as into it as I have in the past for me, but my boy was really into it.

I spent a whole Saturday working on his costume, which started out as a bedskirt.

The turtleneck sweater and grey sweats were found at Goodwill. The boots are Army boots sent to me by a friend (after a walk up the block, he came back - they were so heavy that they wore him out). The helmet is a funny story... After looking at the costume shop ($20 for a piece of plastic crap) and instructions on making our own (long, involved and possibly too much drying time), we took a look around the house and came up with our own. A stainless steel mixing bowl, the inner ring of a portable toilet, and a pillow case. It looks pretty awesome on.

The problem was that he didn't leave a big enough slit between the two and couldn't see out once he taped the pillow case in place... The helmet got left at home with the boots.

We also had Kylee. I'm not 100% clear on what this costume actually is. It looks like a combination highschool student, fish person and cat. The label on the bag said "Monster High" and I'm thinking that who ever created this costume must have been on one.

I wonder if those things I think are cat ears are actually fins? She has them on her wrists and knees too. Along with "fishnet" stockings. I do know she's not a mermaid though.

Darling Man agreed to accompany them around the neighborhood. I don't think he really wanted to go, but the lure of free sno-balls in the next block was more than he could resist.

I'm not sure what he's supposed to be either, but to me he looks like one of those semi-cadaverous English henchmen in an animated Disney movie - probably named Jasper. (He's sucking his cheeks in too, which adds to the illusion.)

They made the rounds for about an hour and a half, while I sat on the front porch with my KenPo top on and crocheted and drank tea and handed out KitKat bars to the probably 30 children who came by. Since Halloween is hit or miss around here, I didn't want to load up on candy (which, if not given away we would be required to eat) so I only bought two bags - and around 8:30 it was all gone. Time to go inside away from the mosquitoes, turn off the porch light and say goodbye to another year's Halloween.

I think it was a pretty good one.

It's been confirmed....

2011-10-30T21:36:00.000-05:00

Today was big day for us... The Boy got confirmed by the Bishop, and Darling Man was received into the church as a member. It was a somewhat last-minute affair. Just before I rejoined the church last year there was to be a visit from the Bishop - but he'd just had surgery and was stuck in California recovering and then our own priest was having surgery too - so it just didn't happen. There was a Good Friday visit, but that wasn't really the time to have confirmations, so this was the first opportunity that there was and we're not sure when there will be another. There were 11 confirmands,1 baptism, 2 receptions and 1 reaffirmation. Assisting Bishop Charles Keyser had his work cut out for him!

I remember my own confirmation rather vaguely. I recall classes held outside on the grass (it was the mid-70s and the thing to do) with Fr. Perry, our young assistant rector. And I remember the Bishop's hands on my head as he blessed me. And the silver celtic cross I was given that still lives in my jewelry box. But that's about it. I do remember it as a day that began my true life in the church though. I no longer resented being made to be a part of that organization as I'd made friends and actually felt that I had a place there.

My own boy confessed to feeling like singing all day. I take that as a good sign.

I invited my parents to come. They had been members of my church for a long, long time before moving out of town and taking up with the church closer to them in Quincy. At one point, my mom leaned over to me during the service and said it was good to be back in Advent - that this place had magic in it again. (There was a time when it didn't, but I won't go into that in this post.) I have to agree and it's one of the reasons I made Advent my church home now.

It was a joyful service, serious but not too solemn. Bishop Keyser gave a lovely sermon and then got down to the business of blessing everyone in their various categories. I was so proud of my son, who had previously expressed misgivings about doing this, when he stood up and in a very firm voice that carried well, responded to the Bishop's questions of renouncing evil and taking Jesus as his Savior and Lord. My husband also had to respond to those questions and he also did it in a way that made me proud. My guys aren't afraid to stand up and say it.

When it was our turn, Z went up to be confirmed. Darling Man, my parents and I went up there to put our hands on his shoulders in a show of support as the Bishop blessed him. Then Z and DM changed places and we did it again. Z was presented with a prayer book of his own and both Z and DM received a beautiful little terracotta cross, handmade in Cuba by people in our sister church there.

My husband says that when he's in church, he finds his eyes drawn repeatedly to the depiction of the dove in the stained glass window, symbolizing the Holy Spirit. These crosses were given at random and all are different. So it was interesting and somewhat eerie that his cross was one with a dove.

My son's favorite part of the service is communion. Guess what was depicted on HIS cross?

Dad is very pleased that Darling Man has been received into the church. For him this just reaffirms that DM and I were meant to be together, sharing our lives AND our faith.

I love this picture. ZBoy and two of his friends who were also confirmed today.

There was a reception afterwards with lots of wonderful food - all finger foods - and punch... Dad offered to take us all to lunch to celebrate and after some dithering, we wound up at Ted's Montana Grill, which specializes in dishes prepared with bison as opposed to beef (though beef is an option). The idea of eating bison was completely new to the Boy, but he gamely chose bison sliders as his lunch..

...and declared them delicious! Best thing ever. I had bison meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a squash casserole; DM had a New Mexico burger; Mom had cream of tomato soup and salad, and Dad ordered something called the All-American burger. It was hard to imagine from the description, and once it showed up, it was hard to imagine just how such a thing would be eaten.

It was huge! I couldn't see how that could be conveyed to the mouth without half of it dropping back down onto the plate. Luckily, Dad has huge hands... big enough to handle that burger! However, once started, you cannot put it down and hope to get it back up in one piece, so when not actively eating it, he just held it over his plate.

It was a lovely day, with lovely people... and after lunch, I went home and had a lovely nap.

Just Fishing Friday

2011-10-28T09:40:00.000-05:00

My boy was tardy today. These last couple of weeks... It's been crazy and busy and exhausting. We're all falling into bed with lights out before 10pm and sleeping hard until the last minute we have to get up. So while we got up in a timely manner today, we just couldn't pull ourselves together in time to... well, be on time.

Darling Man headed off to work and I drove the Boy to school. As we sat at a long light the Boy said "I wish we had teleporter technology NOW. It would make getting to school so much easier."

I ran with it.

"What if the homeroom teacher had a button and when he pressed it at the time you were supposed to be at school, you all would appear in your chairs. Of course, you'd have to actually be ready when he pushed it. Can you imagine landing in your seat still in your jammies, brushing your teeth or eating breakfast?"

He started laughing. What a great way to start the day!

Goodie Bag

2011-10-27T21:12:00.001-05:00

Every now and then, I am presented with a surprise bag or box of something. Wednesday night, a woman at church came up to me with a bag, pulled out one thing to show me, and then we had to get on with what we were doing - so I stashed the bag safely in my car to peruse later.

Now, to be fair, I knew the bag was coming. She's in the process of clearing some things out of her house, including some yarns and various sewing things, so I had a general idea of what I might find in there. And she says there's more but doesn't know when she'll get around to it.

That's fine - I've got one to start with and after a busy couple of days, I opened it tonight. Cool stuff!

First, the top booklet was the one pulled out of the bag. It's some GORGEOUS fisherman crochet! I looked at the directions tonight and thought I might be able to do that... They're pretty clear (which is necessary for someone like me who has a hard time following directions) and there's patterns for the afghan, mittents, scarf and hat in there. The others are CrossStitch magazine which also has some neat stuff in them.

Next was a small bag with various laces and trims in them. Some were obviously machine-made, but I think a good bit of the beige and white lace might be hand-tatted.

Then, a mystery box. I have to wonder... was that 75 cents per skein or for the whole box???? When I opened it, I found this:

Directions for crocheting a dress! Not sure that's my cup of tea, but an interesting idea. Under the pattern was the yarn for it:

And ONE square of the lace for the dress. It's actually quite pretty and I was thinking it might make a nice bed cover or some thing. The yarn is all white and very soft.

And finally - projects started but not finished. I have no idea what these things were intended to be, but perhaps I can make them into something. Whatever it is, it'll have to fit the amount of yarn there.

'Cause ya'll know I NEVER leave a project unfinished!!!! **snickering**

Family Affair

2011-10-20T12:11:00.001-05:00

At 12, my son sometimes balks at being told what to do. He likes to think that he's able to take care of things on his own - though history often says he doesn't do what he needs to without a certain amount of prodding.

I've been going to bed early - before either Darling Man or the Boy even think about going upstairs. Last night I was asleep but heard them come up. Z turned on his light and apparently was going to read a while (it was somewhere around 10pm) and his dad called out to turn off the light. A rather sullen Alright - geez! came from the Boy's room and the light clicked off.

I know he thinks we're strict. And we have talked to him about it several times, explaining why we do the things we do and have the rules we have. It's just part of growing up, this intermittent rebellion.

This morning, after getting bored with the weather loop, he started changing channels on the TV while I got breakfast ready and landed on MeTV, which was airing Family Affair. I laughed and told him I used to watch that when I was a kid - and that it was pretty good. So he watched.

Buffy was chaffing at all of Uncle Bill and Mr. French's rules because she had a friend named Lana who didn't seem to have any rules. She lived with her single mom who was out all the time and left Lana to fend for herself for food, deciding what to watch on TV and when to go to bed. Buffy was envious of the key Lana wore on a string around her neck - a badge of independence. Buffy was tired of being treated like a baby. One day, she got to go to Lana's for dinner after school. Lana's mom breezed in, said hi and left for a date. Lana and Buffy made frozen pizza for dinner and watched a scary movie and dressed up in Mom's clothes and curled Buffy's hair. Then Buffy invited Lana to come home with her after school and spend the night. They did homework first then went out on the terrace to play because Mr. French said so. Bedtime was 8:30 and Uncle Bill came in to tuck them in. The naked hunger on Lana's face was heartbreaking as she realized that having rules meant that someone cared enough about you to make sure you had everything you needed - which included a good meal, a good education and plenty of sleep and love.

When it was over, my boy sat looking at the screen for a moment, then got up, fed the dogs, brushed his teeth and put on his shoes. He got out the form I was supposed to sign for him and was out the door before me.

Sometimes Buffy can say it much better than I can. And he knows without a doubt that his daddy and I love him.

Healthy

2011-10-19T19:47:00.004-05:00

We sat there, side by side, and waited. He was rushing through the final pages of a book and I was crocheting a prayer shawl. It was early - our appointment was at 8am and even so we weren't the first appointment of the day.

From around the corner, I heard a baby crying. As I gazed at my son, utterly lost in the land of the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, I remembered sitting in that other room with an inconsolable baby - pacing and cuddling and talking and singing to him and desperate to see the doctor because I was so afraid that something was really, really wrong - or that I had somehow caused him to have an ear infection or swollen tonsils.

He was always sick when he was little. Ear infections plagued us on a regular basis. And once he started pre-school, strep throat made a regular appearance too - often the two would alternate so that the pediatrician was getting a copay every two weeks from us and prescibing antibiotics that my boy never seemed to be off of. Finally, we were sent to an ear, nose, and throat doctor who scheduled an operation to put in ear tubes and remove his adnoids and tonsils. After that there were no more ear infections, no more strep throat. In fact, he almost never got sick at all.

But he's not a fan of going to the doctor. They were always telling him he was too heavy or sticking needles in him or peeking at things we always said should stay covered if you weren't at home.

Today, he had his annual checkup. Between growing taller and being more active and being a bit more conscientious about what he eats, his weight is almost in their "normal" category - almost without trying. He was very pleased to hear that. His heart is good; his lungs are good; in spite of the slouch, his back is straight and strong. He was still uncomfortable when it came to the quick peek down there but got through it without too much trouble (he was NOT pleased when I told him that the older he got, the more invasive that part of the examination would get).

The boy was pronounced a healthy young man.

The final part was getting two shots. His last HPV vaccination and this year's flu shot. I asked the nurse if they had Hello Kitty bandaids (joking with Z) but he got Silver Surfer on one side and Captain America on the other. On his last visit, he finally learned how to take a shot. The secret is relaxing! If you get all tense, your muscles do too - and that hurts! Relax, keep talking about stuff and laugh - it won't hurt (well, a pinch like they always say).

Afterwards, we went and got a donut and some hot chocolate before I took him to school. All done for another year!

Just Fishin': After a Trying Day

2011-10-14T18:04:00.001-05:00

Today was not the best day ever. It started out okay. I got to meet someone I've been friends with on Facebook for a while but had never met in person. We had a nice chat before I went back to work. Then there was a meeting.

I won't kid you... it's been stressful around here lately. The recent layoffs have made a few of us busier than we should be and there is absolutely no room for anything more. And yet, there are other departments who didn't plan what to do when they lost people and are hoping to put those duties off on us. I've already taken on some of it. My husband has taken on some of it. All of us downstairs have. Today I saw my over-worked and over-stressed boss fall on his sword. Had I known what was about to happen, I'd have protested that what they asked was impossible. I didn't know. I was stunned.

Afterwards, I offered help, but he is determined to make a point here. I hope it is not at the cost of his health or sanity. The day that started off happy and upbeat turned into one where I felt like crying every time I thought about my place of employment. Things are just going wrong and there doesn't seem to be a darned thing I can do about it.

I left early to pick my son up from the bus stop. I NEEDED to pick him up. I needed that reminder of why I do the things I do - of what's important in the greater scheme of things. As I waited for the bus to arrive, I talked to my mom and worked on the prayer shawl that's nearly done.

When the bus showed up, we grinned at each other. We drove to Michael's to get some more yarn for another shawl I'm working on. Then we went to Atlanta Bread company and got cookies and split a sandwich. I love my time after work with my boy.

We went home. I resumed my crochet (almost done - adding fringe now). It's like meditation. Because I pray while I crochet, it takes my mind away from my own troubles and focuses it in a positive way on someone else's needs. While I did this, my boy sat down to his computer and started playing games.

I enjoy these quiet times. We are not doing something together, but sharing the same space and enjoying the quiet. There's the occasional "look Mom!" or question about school. He'll get up and dance around or do pushups or something then sit down and resume his activity, which makes me laugh. We like to laugh around here. Mostly, we just like to be together.

And after a day like today, I treasure these times more than ever.

Want to read more Just Fishin' or Fist Bump Friday? Go visit Jill at Life Is Not Bubble-Wrapped!

This Old Body

2011-10-11T07:50:00.005-05:00

My house was awake at 3am today... mostly because I was making some kind of weird noise that brought both Darling Man and ZBoy out of a deep slumber to see if I was having a heart attack.

I wasn't. I was, however, having the mother of all charley horses - one so painful that even breathing was an effort. I managed to straighten my leg, at which point even my toes cramped up. The best cure I've found is to straighten the leg and push my heel against the footboard, toes pointing to the ceiling. Something about that seems to release the tension in the calf muscle. This time, however, I couldn't reach the footboard. After a prolonged seisure, it finally relaxed and I took a real breath just in time for another one.

I have no idea why this happens. It's usually my calves, but sometimes my hamstring or quad muscles do it too (not at the same time, thank God). They haven't been over worked. They aren't dehydrated. I just don't know.

The idea, however, that my guys were worried I was having a heart attack is troublesome. They don't expect me to live a long time. I'm overweight. I have high blood pressure. My triglycerides are out of whack (though my total cholesterol is quite low). I also have diabetes, which is apparently beginning to affect my kidney function even though my numbers are quite low and barely qualify as diabetic. Add to that the occasional debilitating attack of arthritis-like symptoms that put me on a cane for about a week at a time and I can see where they might get that idea.

I'm working on it... And I must be doing something right. At my last checkup, the official scale actually went down (after two years of it being in the same place no matter how many pounds my at-home scale said I'd gained or lost). My A1C (diabetes glucose test) was down to 6.1. My cholesterol was 179 and the numbers that make it up are getting more in line.

Hopefully soon, being awakened in the middle of the night by me won't trigger worries of a heart attack in my husband and son - they'll just think Oh... another charley horse.

Mommy Frustration

2011-10-10T09:45:00.001-05:00

My boy is not stupid. In fact, he's a pretty smart cookie. In spite of going to school at Hell Middle last year, he managed to keep his grades up reasonably well and passed 6th grade before we moved him to the much more heavenly Imagine school this year.

His school sends out grades at the end of each week so parents can keep up with what's going on in their kids' school lives and I've been pretty happy with his reports... On his mid-term progress report he had A's with one B in Language Arts. It was puzzling since Language Arts really is his best subject, but I didn't worry about it much.

Until I started getting his weekly updates. He would have an A in that class too but for one thing. He hasn't handed in his reading log since the beginning of school. This one thing has now dragged his grade down to a D. D!

I am baffled. He reads all. the. time. He loves reading. But for some reason he won't take a minute every day to note the book, the author, the page numbers or give a five sentence summary of what he read that day. So far this year, this is the ONLY homework he's had! And it does need to be done daily - but it's something he's doing anyway. WHY?????

Last year, he struggled with overwhelming homework every night - but he did it. He got it all done and handed in. Do we need to put him back in that school so he'll actually do homework again? I really don't get his thinking on this.

I created a form for him to fill out everyday. This morning his dad and I made him sit down and fill it out for the weekend so he'd have something to hand in today. But this has to end. As of today, there will be NO computer time until he has done this. EVERY DAY. It's the only way to make sure this gets done.

Please note, all you readers who are scratching their heads over this - I understand that my son is smart and making good grades. There are people who would love their kids to make good grades and exhibit some smarts, even if they didn't do all their homework. But this particular behavior is pure laziness. He's actually doing the hard bit - the reading - so why not get credit for all the reading he's doing? And why let something so simple have such a stupid effect on your grades?

I can see that mothering a teen is going to be quite challenging. Perhaps I have expectations that are too high - or maybe I don't. I just hope we survive this teen-thing!

Friday Fist Bump

2011-10-07T11:39:00.002-05:00

Last month, I had to reorganize my work life. I pushed furniture around and brought in a large file cabinet and rearranged piles of paper into folders, notebooks and recycling bins. The inspiration for this was recent layoffs and taking on some new duties that were the final straw that broke my somewhat haphazard organizational back in my office.

After all the sorting and pushing around and punching of holes, I finally have an office that actually works for me.

The proof was this week when I had to do the 4-times-a-year migraine-inducing headache report on our programming topics. It's usually a few days of squinting at impossibly tiny print and chasing people in three different locations begging for information on their programs that has to be included in my report.

This time, I had all my information right there at my fingertips, organized in an easily accessible notebook - information both printed out and saved in the computer (losing information in the computer has been a recurring problem) and my report took a total of 2 hours to complete. TWO HOURS. Down from a few days.

Never underestimate the power of organization.

If you'd like to read more happy endings, go visit Jill at Life Is Not Bubble-wrapped!

First Monday Cravings

2011-10-03T13:36:00.003-05:00

No one volunteered to host the First Monday of October, so I guess I'll do it again.

This weekend's cooler weather put me in a Fall state-of-mind and for the first time since last March, I wanted soup for dinner. I heated up some chicken noodle soup which the Boy and I shared for dinner. The Man had leftover pizza. That craving got me to thinking - what do people crave when the weather gets cooler? Sign up in comments, and I'll add your link to this post.

For me, soup is number one. It's just too hot in the summer to eat it. It's also time for mashed potatoes instead of rice, chili with cheese sprinkled on top, pot roasts, pork loins (the way my MIL makes it with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes) and pumpkin pie. I normally drink hot tea when I want something hot, but colder weather warrants something a bit thicker - coffee with cream or cocoa with marshmallows. Iced tea pretty much goes away until it's warm again, but I still drink the hot tea in the mornings when I get up. Green beans instead of peas. Soup instead of salad. Gravy instead of a pat of butter.

I'm guessing that the heavier food is genetically designed to put the fat on so that we can survive these harsh Florida winters *wink* but I also find I'm much more interested in exercise and getting out and doing things when it's cooler, so I've managed to pretty much stay the same weight at the end of winter as going in. This year I'm hoping to be much lighter coming out!

Don't forget to sign up and play!

Ari_1965
Sandy
FluffBuff
Jo (Gooseberries & Chocolate)
Jill
Joangee (scroll down past Favorite Picture post)

What's Cookin'?

2011-10-02T17:54:00.000-05:00

I've never been a particularly good cook. I love food though and have made many, many attempts to be good at making it. When I was young, I failed miserably, but my family would always valiantly eat whatever I presented to them. Flat biscuits. Hockey puck pork chops (still one of my specialities). Various cakes that for one reason or another didn't work.

Over the years, I've gotten better but I still don't consider myself a good cook. Once upon a time, I made terrific meatloaf. I got the recipe off the Quaker Oats box and it was awesome! But something happened. After a long time of not making meatloaf, I decided to make it again - and it didn't work. I'm not sure what happened, but it just never came out the same as it used to... and I followed the directions perfectly (always a challenge for me).

I happen to love meatloaf. For a while, I resorted to the Stouffer's or Publix frozen meatloafs, but they had too much salt and too much fat and I always wound up feeling slightly ill after eating them (though they were delicious). One day, I moaned on FaceBook about how I made such awful meatloaf and really wanted to make good meatloaf and my friend Alison posted a very simple recipe. I tried it and it was WONDERFUL! And so simple. I've made it many times since and raved about it to some co-workers. The manager of the radio side of work came down to my office, having heard of this wonderful meatloat - she'd never even made meatloaf before. She made it and her husband and son ate the whole thing. This recipe has been passed around and around in my circles now and loved by everyone who's eaten it.

One evening, Alison and I went out to dinner and she laughed about the popular "Alison's Meatloaf"... She said she got it off a box of soup mix! We went on to talk about other things, but that stuck in my head. The next time I bought onion soup mix, I looked at the box. The recipe on there didn't even resemble the one Alison gave me.

I pondered this. Perhaps they changed the recipe since Alison wrote it down. Which made me wonder - is that what happened to MY meatloaf recipe? Did Quaker change their recipe on the box and it really WASN'T the same??? Of course after all these years, it would be impossible to check and see but I suspect this might be the reason my last oatmal meatloaf was so bad that no one would eat it.

Thanks to Alison, though... I have this:

ALISON'S MEATLOAF

1 Lb. Ground Beef (lean) - I cheat here and use meatloaf mix.. you know.. the kind with pork too?
1 package dry onion soup mix
1/4 c. catsup
1 egg
1 piece of bread torn into tiny pieces
3 Tablespoons of water

Mix it all up and bake in 375 oven for 30 minutes. Yummy.

Just Fishin' Friday

2011-09-30T08:08:00.002-05:00

Jill has come up with a new meme for Fridays, directed mostly at parents. You can write about something great that happened (Fist Bump Friday) or something that will make memories (Just Fishin' Friday) but whichever you choose to write about, it should involve your kid(s). UPDATE: Jill tells me that Fist Bumps can be for non-parents too! Did something great this week? Or just really enjoyed something? Write about it! And sign up!

I've chosen to go with Just Fishin' this week.

My boy and I spend a lot of time together. Most of it is nice, some is not, and none of it is particularly remarkable. But one of the daily things we do together is go to meet his bus on school day mornings.

Being an almost-teen, mornings when he has to get up are not easy. He doesn't want to wake up, and once up, he's usually kind of grumpy. And slow. He takes forever to eat his breakfast. Forever to get dressed. I never knew brushing your teeth could take so long. Sometimes I snap at him, he grumbles back and we're both a bit crabby when we get in the car to meet the bus at the mall a few minutes away.

But a little miracle happens on the drive and during the wait. We start talking. What's happening at school today? What are you looking forward to? What shall we do after school? The bus is somewhat erratic in when it arrives, so sometimes we pull up and the bus is sitting there winking at us and other times we're sitting there for 10 minutes. I love the 10-minute wait.

We talk. Sometimes he'll pull his phone out and we'll record us singing or making strange noises. He discovered that when he burps into the phone, it sounds like a frog (that's now his ringtone). When he's alone or feeling bad, sometimes he pulls his phone out and listens to us being silly and it makes him feel better.

By the time we get out of the car, we're both happy. We say "I love you" before the door slams (because boys his age can't close anything without slamming it) and I watch my boy-turning-man get on the bus. I know this time won't last. Before I know it, he'll be driving himself around and won't need me for that anymore, so I cherish our car time - and I think he does too.

Got a fist bump or fishing story? Sign up and leave your link at Jill's place so other people can come visit YOU!

Once Bitten

2011-09-27T17:10:00.002-05:00

My poor baby... He woke up this morning with a sore neck. If you'd ever seen the way he sleeps, you'd say "well, yeah... of course you did!" So this morning when he was complaining about it, I kind of brushed it off and told him the kinks would work out in a couple of hours. Gave him a couple of kiddie ibuprophen to get him over the hump and sent him off to school.

Darling Man picked him up at the bus stop and Z was moving quite stiffly. When he saw that, he asked and Z told him his neck hurt. Then Darling Man did what I should have done this morning - he looked. There was an angry red bite just inside his hairline - and swelling that was growing down his neck (that light u-shaped blob on his neck). That scared him, so he called me and asked if he should take Z to the doctor. Yes! I would call ahead and let them know he's coming.

They got home shortly after I did. It was not a spider bite, which I'd feared, but rather a flea bite that had gotten infected. Since Yoda's been sleeping in his bed, I'm not terribly surprised at that. I was surprised at how violent a reaction he had because he'd never had one like this before. Poor guy - I guess he's got my allergies to insect bites!

I need to go pick up his prescriptions - ointment for the site of the bite and an antibiotic for the infection. All I can say is that I'm so grateful it isn't more serious.

I'm so glad I did it

2011-09-24T22:01:00.002-05:00

Last year was hell. My boy's first year of middle school became a nightmare for him. He hated going to school. His friends, for some unknown reason, turned on him and made life miserable. The previous year, he was a happy kid, doing well in school and had friends - then last year, the complete opposite. I can't tell you how many nights I cried. The school gave good lip service, but in the end did nothing. My precious, love-to-learn, love-to-read boy disappeared. He got D's for the first time in his life. There was usually one A, but the rest of his grades slipped. He hated math, which used to be one of his favorite subjects. He thinks about math and comes up with his own theories! For him to turn his back on math... well , that was a big thing.

So I began exploring alternatives. I visited all the charter schools in the area (knowing I couldn't afford the tremendous tuition at the private schools). There was also the Florida Virtual School, but for now it's not practical. I did find two charter schools that I thought would be great for him. One had a waiting list that went on forever, but the other had just started their middle school the previous year and had plenty of room there for my boy. Darling Man and I took a tour and talked to some parents who had kids there, liked what we heard, and put his name into the lottery for a place there. He got in.

And he loves it. He loves the uniform. He loves the teachers. He loves how small it is. That there's hardly any homework (but they do work hard in the classroom). And it shows.

Friday morning, he woke up happier than usual... because progress reports were coming out! He couldn't wait to see how he was doing. He bounced off the bus in the afternoon and as soon as he got in the car, he pulled out the progress report and waved it around smiling. One B (in Lanugage Arts, which was kind of weird) and the rest were As! Including an A+ in math! He's so pleased with himself and wants to bring that B up so he can have his first ever All-A's report card at the end of the semester.

I'm so proud of him! And I'm so glad we moved him to this school. It has done wonders for his self-esteem, building it back up from the battering it took last year.

Every now and then, I do something really, really right!

I hate credit cards!

2011-09-21T12:51:00.000-05:00

We're getting rid of most of our credit cards, hanging on to an American Express (which gets paid off every month) and the Lowe's card for those interest-free projects. My husband also has a card that he uses mostly for gas because walking in to pay cash is a PITA.

His statement arrived yesterday and since I do all the bookkeeping at my house, I opened it. The expected gas charges were there and my son's membership at a gaming site and something else I didn't recognize. It was called TatumHelp.com and they charged us $39.44. I asked my husband what that was and he had no idea. So I went back and found the same charge under other names (GAS.cs.gastex.com and cennethelp.com) with similar but different phone numbers. The "GAS" charge for a couple of months wouldn't have set off any alarms in me, but the one month of Cennethelp and two of TatumHelp with the exact same charge did. Sounds like a fraud to me, especially since they keep changing names and phone numbers.

Darling Man had to call in though, since it was his card, and he proceeded to spend the next couple of hours in a very unpleasant way, talking to people with accents so thick he couldn't understand them and listening to the most horrendous hold music ever. Eventually he wound up with someone he could understand and got the charges cancelled and hopefully a refund (5 months worth!) of those bogus charges. And never did find out what exactly the charges were for.

The credit card company closed that account and will open a new one for Darling Man who really wavered on opening a new one at all. I felt the same way about my credit company that jerked me around and left me with NO MONEY when I went to Korea.

The sad fact is that if you want to rent a car or a hotel room or make a trip by plane, you almost have to have one these days. I know a bunch of you are saying "what about a debit card?" As far as I'm concerned, that's even more dangerous. Someone can clone it and drain your bank account of funds before you even know there's a problem. And you have to remember to save the chits and write them down so you don't wind up bouncing checks (like we did way back when).

As much as I like doing my banking online and paying bills like that, I'm considering going back to paper statements and paying each bill by check. At least then there's a hard copy and it won't be so easy to miss stuff.

Word to the wise... check your statements every month - and question every charge you don't recognize!!!

Fun Monday - Movies that Make You Think

2011-09-18T18:00:00.002-05:00

I didn't post a fun monday challenge before now... Wasn't sure we would keep going - at least every week. I think perhaps a once a month Fun Monday might be the ticket now - but if you want to play this week, join in!

This week's Fun Monday was inspired by going to see a movie on Sunday. You know I don't go to very many. It's expensive and I generally only go to ones that NEED to be seen on the big screen (Harry Potter, Transformers, big disaster films and the like), but this movie that I saw today would be just as powerful on a smaller screen. The big screen just brought you in closer and made you a part of the story.

These two women were wonderful!

The movie I saw today was "The Help" and I went with someone who's lived it. She knew someone like everybody in that movie. And assured me that there are still places in the US where it is still the same.. today. It is, in some ways, unbelieveable that people could still be living these lives in this day and age. We are enlightened now, aren't we? Isn't that sense of being entitled just because we are white a thing of the past? Apparently not. Maybe that's why this movie is striking so many chords in so many people.

My friend's reminescences triggers memories of my own... My maternal grandmother was a divorced woman who never remarried at a time when women like that were highly suspect. Never mind the circumstances, she was a woman to be concerned about. She also had two young children and went to work full-time to support them and keep a roof over everyone's head. And she had a maid. Loujetta kept Grandma's house, cooked, watched after her children - and helped her stay sane. Grandma would have had a much harder time without Loujetta's help. She was a part of the family, but had one of her own to go home to at night. She helped out with my first wedding, which shows that she stayed around for a long, long time. But I can't say what her relationship with my grandmother was like. I was too young to see it at the time. I hope theirs was a good and mutually beneficial one though.

My other grandmother's experience was more dramatic. She actually managed to have a cross burned on her front yard. She had come over here with her two sons to live in America. They were staying at her cousin's farm, which hired local black people to work. Understand that she never really fit in. She was also a suspect woman. She was a foreigner. She wore shorts. A divorcee. And she had the nerve to give one of the workers a ride home in the back of the truck one evening. For that, she was paid a visit by a group of men in white sheets who planted a cross in the yard and set fire to it as a warning. One she didn't heed. But they never burned another cross on her yard.

It was sad, watching that movie and realizing that that was how things were. And in some places, still is. But I also know that having skin of a different color doesn't make someone a better person or a worse person than me. I have no upper hand, no dominion over them. They are people... just like me. They feel. They work hard. They love their families. They worship and sing and go grocery shopping. They are us. And we are them.

One of the things I love about my son and many kids of his generation is that they don't see the difference. He describes someone as having brown skin the same way he describes someone with blue eyes or curly hair. It's just a physical attribute. It has nothing to do with ability or humanity. He went with us to see the movie today and while he knows this kind of thing took place commonly in the past, he has a hard time seeing it... understanding how it could have been that way.

I sincerely hope that more people than not are like him. That a movie like "The Help" can truly become a period piece and not continue to be a part of current history.

If you'd like to participate in Fun Monday, sign up in the comments. I'll add you to the future list at the bottom of this post. Write about a movie that made you think.

Sandy (Myanderings)

Jill (Life Is Not Bubble-wrapped)
Joangee (Musings and Waffle)

This got me thinking....

2011-09-15T16:33:00.001-05:00

I don't usually click on links when I'm on FaceBook. I don't like getting hacked or spammed or whatever it is that happens when you click on a bad link... but the title of this one was irresistable and so I did. I've attached the link, so read it (you'll be glad you did).

Waking Up Full of Awesome

Isn't that a great blogpost title?

I read that whole thing and started thinking... I usually wake up full of awesome! Well-rested, eager to start the day, ready for whatever gets thrown at me - that's my usual wake up attitude.

In a lot of ways, I seem to be reverting to that sense of awesome that children have. Believe me, there are years and years of my personal history that weren't awesome and I didn't feel awesome. I felt small and ugly. Fat. Lazy. Stupid. Hopelessly disorganized in every aspect of my life.

Some of those things are still here. I'm still fat. Parts of my life, in spite of my best efforts, are still hopelessly disorganized. But I've never been lazy or stupid (quite the contrary) or even ugly. It was just other people's perceptions, people who didn't like me for some reason, that I'd absorbed and made my own. That may be the reason I'm fat - that mean perception of who I am (or it could be that I just really, really like cheese and am not terribly fond of sweating).

So what's changed now? Why do I wake up happy most mornings... I'm still getting older. My joints hurt more often than not and my sinuses drive me crazy - and yet those things don't really bother me that much. Instead, I think about the things I will accomplish that day, the people I'll talk to, the food I'll enjoy and doing things for the family that I love. It's almost like someone threw a switch and I got happy.

Perhaps it's knowing that I've got an awesome son. And a husband who loves me no matter how crazy he thinks I am. And a wonderful family of parents and brothers and cousins and aunts and uncles and even grandparents still. That in spite of the stresses and ups and downs, I still have a job that I enjoy doing, a house I love working on and a car that functions.

My life isn't perfect. I don't make enough money. We have a lot of debt. My health isn't what it should be (and I have life insurance just in case I can't turn that around). My body aches, my fat jiggles and my hair is getting thin.

And I'm happy. God loves me and listens when no one else will. He watches out for those I love and the concerns I have - and I get to let go of those every time I talk to Him. Sundays are a big boost to my happiness these days. I get to combine my personal prayers with public ritual that gives me a whole new lift on Sunday mornings - and it gets me right to start the week. I get a booster shot on Wednesdays with a meal and fellowship. I'm grateful for the things I have and don't worry too much about the things I don't have.

And I think that may be the crux of happiness. Faith. As a child, we had faith that parents loved us, that our beds would be warm and our bellies filled and that days would be full of adventure. I'm a grown-up now and my faith is more mature but in some ways also childlike. I believe that no matter what obstacles I face, everything will be alright.

And THAT, my friends, is the key to Waking Up Awesome.

I'm not really your friend... yet.

2011-09-13T20:47:00.002-05:00

I got to pick my son up at the bus stop today. Sometimes, when we have an evening that's going to be just the two of us, I like to do something fun. Today, we went to the bookstore.

We browsed a bit, picked out a couple of books and a calendar book for my purse as I find I'm having a harder and harder time of keeping track of who is supposed to be where and when these days. Thank goodness I only have one kid to keep track of!!!

We also split a sandwich and a small coffeecake at the snack bar. He was feeling terribly pleased with our outing as we started the walk back out of the mall to our car. Feeling pleased usually means he starts to feel chatty too, and brings up things he wouldn't normally.

"My social studies teacher said something really weird a couple of days ago," he started. I looked at him and raised my eyebrow indicating that he should continue. "He said that he was not my friend and that my parents weren't my friends. His job was to be my teacher and teach me and my parents job was to raise me. Isn't that weird?"

I laughed and told him that wasn't weird at all... in fact, it was the truth.

"What? But you and Dad are my best friends! We have fun together. I'd rather be with you guys than anyone else! Why can't you be my friends?"

I thought how best to answer him for a minute. What I said went something like this... "Mr. B is right. Your dad and I are parents first and friends farther down the line. We love you. We created you. And it's our job to raise you to be the best person you can be. When there's a decision to be made, we make the one that is the most responsible in terms of taking care of your body, your mind and your soul. Friends don't always make decisions that way. Sometimes they go with what's the most fun. Or what they think they can get away with. If your friends wanted to pile into a little red wagon and go careening down a big hill, that might be fun. It might also kill you. If you asked your friends they'd say go for it. If you asked me and Dad, we'd say no way and try to explain to you why. You might not always like our decisions, but they are made with the best intentions for your safety at the heart of them. This will ALWAYS be true, even when you think we just don't want you to have any fun. And we make those decisions because we are your parents and we love you. We can be friends later, after you've grown up and are capable of truly taking care of yourself. But for now, that's our job and we take it seriously."

He nodded when I finished. Then he hugged me and said thanks. And that he'd try to remember that when we say no when he really wants us to say yes.

I really love how he gets it sometimes!!!!

Fun Monday - I am my own shadow...

2011-09-12T16:23:00.002-05:00

anabeleoctora83.blogspot.com

I sometimes joke to my boss that I need to follow myself around so I can write down what I do everyday (and perhaps change my job description in the hopes of more money). I never seem to get around to it though - I'm too busy!

So I thought maybe I'd follow myself around some last week - but it wasn't really a typical week. My husband was working odd hours and I was running after the boy myself. Too crazy to have time to write down.

Maybe this past weekend. Saturday you'd have been bored. My neck started hurting, then my upper back and I wound up spending the whole day in bed on a heating pad gulping ibuprophen and wondering what the heck I'd done to myself.

Sunday would have been a good day, I think. But it wasn't exactly typical either. My husband went to church with me and the Boy. Not the usual. We had the first Sunday breakfast of the fall, which was awesome and a wonderful, moving service that also commemorated the September 11th Anniversary. I went home, ready to mow the lawn and catch up on everything I didn't do on Saturday... then I didn't do any of those things. In fact, I can't remember much of what I did. We did watch "Spaceballs" together as a family before falling asleep.

So maybe today. It's Monday, beginning of a new week, right? It still wasn't typical, but it looks like I'm not going to HAVE a typical day anytime soon - if I ever do, actually.

My alarm was set for 5:30am. I woke up at 5am and dozed until 5:25, at which point I turned off the alarm and got up. Went downstairs to make a pot of tea and feed the cats. Only one was in (Yoda) and when I opened the front door, Tottie and Misha came in - but no French. This isn't unusual. French has his own timetable and will show up when he's good and ready.

At 5:45, I started trying to wake up my son. This is not an easy task on any given day. He likes to stay up later than he should, and even when he goes to sleep at a reasonable time, he loves sleeping so much that he doesn't want to wake up. I have, in the past, poured water on his head, which worked wonderfully but made an awful mess. He eventually comes to and I have his clothes out and ready for him to get into. He comes downstairs and curls up on the couch.

On a normal day, I'd be trying to feed him, get him to feed dogs and get myself ready for work all at the same time - to be out the door by 6:50 (his bus is supposed to be at 7am but usually shows up at 7:10 - still, the one day I decide we can be a little late will be the day it actually DOES show up at 7). But as usual, this is not a normal day. I have an appointment later in the morning, so all I have to do it put on something decent to take him to the bus. So I make him some ramen eggs, take Abby out. He feeds the dogs. Then I get to hound him about getting his shoes on, where is his belt, is there anything I need to sign for school? Once that's accomplished, we leave and drive to the bus stop, arriving right at 7am.

Of course the bus is not there. It's still pretty dark and the moon is gorgeous. I try to take a picture of it but can't make it work. Plus the woman in the car facing me isn't happy that I keep forgetting to turn off the flash. Z takes a few stabs at it, but he also gets mostly blurry balls of light with no definition at all. That 10 minutes before the bus arrives is very nice. We chat about nothing much and leave each other in a happier frame of mind than when we got into the car.

Usually, I would then head to work, but today, I head back home to check in with work on the internet, shower, and put on makeup (very unusual). While I'm in the shower, I hear a muffled thud downstairs. I wonder for a second - but the dogs aren't barking and the smell of french toast wafts up the stairway and into the shower with me. Burglars don't usually make your house smell like that. Darling Man must have come home. A few minutes later, I confirm that he is, indeed, the noise downstairs and find him making himself some breakfast. We chat a moment before he leaves to take the dogs for a bike ride and I finish getting dressed.

At 10:30am, I pull into the parking lot at the church. I am here to interview the Day School Director about the silent auction we're having on November 4th. A little more than a week ago, I was pulled aside by the senior warden and asked if I would write some newpaper articles on stuff the church is doing. It's not my usual way of writing, but I agreed to give it a try. The Silent Auction will be my first piece. It's a quick interview - set up more because it's easier to talk face to face in a quiet office than over breakfast or in the milling about after Sunday services. After 15 minutes, we're done, I have my information and am on my way to work.

Since it's almost 11, I stop at Publix and grab a sushi roll and diet sweet tea for lunch. And a chocolate parfait. Sinfully good and possibly the cause of my afternoon headache, but worth every bite. I eat at my desk once I arrive and check emails at the same time. A program ran long last night (Great Performances had a live concert for New York that ran over by nearly 10 minutes - messing up the schedules all over the place). Fortunately, I haven't heard of any complaints, so I guess it was handled well on our end. Phew. Dealing with irate viewers is not something I particularly enjoy.

I get to work on program logs. This is a somewhat involved process. I have a little help but she's not here on Mondays. I have to fill in the breaks and create the pledge timings for this week's programs. And schedule programs to be recorded. and make sure Secondary Audio Program information is on every single show since we have a radio backup signal (which was news to me last week) that relies on each program having the right info in the right place - something I discovered last week almost NEVER happens on our Create channel and for several of the children's shows... So I have to check every single show to see if the info is correct or not. Then there's the program changes. None for us on a local level (yet - pledge is kind of crazy that way), but PBS sent out two of them just before 5pm. I will wait to do anything with them as they're for October though. Lots of printing and exporting later, I'm about done. I'll be having dinner with my friend Alison tonight so will go straight to the restaurant to meet her rather than going home first.

I imagine that once dinner is done, I'll go home, check Z's backpack, fold some laundry, crochet a little and crawl into bed at a hopefully reasonable time.

And tomorrow, I'll do a lot of that stuff again!

The players this week:
Joangee
Jill
Ari
Karisma
ChrisB
And anyone else who cares to sign up in the comments!!!

10 Years Ago Today...

2011-09-11T12:30:00.000-05:00

Ten years ago on this date, I was living in a double-wide trailer on five acres in darkest Wakulla County. I had a husband who was laid off from his job but working as much as he could. I had a son who was just-turned three and in daycare for the first time. I was working hard and loving my job. Life, in spite of its ups and downs was good.

I had just dropped the Boy off at daycare. We'd finally gotten past the sobbing hysterics of being left with those strange people and he was happy to go off and find his friend Conner to play. I was driving back home to shower and get ready for work and turned on the radio (tuned to NPR as always) in my big, gas-guzzling but family-friendly Ford Exlorer.

And I heard the news.

It was, as my priest said this morning, invoking the first Star Wars movie, like a million voices cried out and were suddenly silenced. A huge vacuum opened up in the psyche of the American people at that moment. All thought. All breath. For a brief moment, all feeling was sucked away from us like the tide going out and we stopped, stunned at the sheer magnitude of the event before the waves came crashing back in, full of terror and sadness and wondering if the people we knew (and we all knew someone in New York) were okay or among the dead.

It was a blurry drive home. I don't remember much else except that as I pulled into the driveway, the second plane hit the other tower. I don't know if I ran or crawled up the stairs to my front door. But when I opened it, I found Darling Man standing in the arch between the livingroom and diningroom staring at the TV.

I almost wish I'd never turned to look. Because once I looked, I couldn't not look. Smoke.. and people running and crying. Choked up reporters. And then... video of the second plane. I sat down on the couch and didn't move for hours. I don't think I went to work that day, but we managed to pull ourselves together before going to get the Boy from daycare at the end of the day. We tried to act normal because something like this is not easily explained to a tiny, innocent and trusting boy.

My brother James was living in New York at the time. Of course, getting through to see if he was okay was impossible. We had to wait and wonder and pray that he was alright. He was. In fact, he slept through the whole thing, having worked late the previous night and into the wee hours of the morning. We were relieved and somehow a little irritated that he slept through something of this magnitude that happened blocks from where he lay snoozing. Of course, he had to live through the aftermath which was probably even more difficult than being awake for the actual event.

My brother John went and re-joined the Army. He's still in there to this day, ten years later, working on this war as a camp commander, organizing troops and supplies that go into the fray.

As for me? I still tear up at the thought of that act of violence. And at the memory of the Challenger shuttle exploding, and Columbia coming apart as it re-entered Earth's atmosphere. These things are burned into my brain and will never go away. I remember them everyday.

So today, I will not turn on the TV. I glanced very briefly at the newspaper. I do not need to relive the horror of that day. It is already there, branded on my heart and mind. After 10 years, I think it's time to let go of as much of that as we can, time to move forward into our future which will hopefully be a happier and more peaceful place to be.

I will post again... I promise.

2011-09-08T22:33:00.000-05:00

The layoffs have happened. People I work with are no longer there in the building with me. Not only do we all have to come to grips with that fact, but we have to make sure that the necessary parts of those other jobs still get done.

I inherited being the contact person for the listing services. I'm sure that most of the time, this was a fairly minor part of J's job - but for some reason, this week has been hell. In-house program changes, then PBS sending one out, recinding it, then sending it again. Those poor people on the receiving end of my schedule change emails must think I'm an idiot. I swear it's not me. I'm doing the best I can.

But between taking over that, pledge drive (again), and my regular job - the last thing I want to do is sit down in front of the computer when I get home. Those of you who are FaceBook friends may have noticed I've gotten a little quiet. And I'm not visiting blogs or posting the way I usually do either. Mostly, when I get home, I want to close my eyes and go to sleep, but there are plenty of things that need doing here too. So forgive me if I'm a little absent for a bit. Things are a bit overwhelming at the moment.

Should Fun Monday return? Or is it dead in the water?

2011-09-06T21:36:00.000-05:00

So it's September and I happened to notice my sidebar comment about Fun Monday returning in September. But should it? Has Fun Monday been played into the ground? Is it time to toss dirt and move on?

On the off chance that someone still wants to play, I'll set the challenge for next Monday (September 12):

What is a typical day for you? Follow yourself around for one day and make note of what you do and when. Then post it on Monday. It can be a workday, a weekend day... whatever you want.

Sign up in the comments...

Wordless Wednesday - The Help (not always helpful)

2011-08-31T19:32:00.000-05:00

Misha's new favorite spot

I Feel Like Crying Today

2011-08-30T11:14:00.000-05:00

This time, it's not hormonal. It's circumstantial. It's not gasping sobs, but more of a quiet welling up and spilling over from time to time. And it's not one thing, it's several.

Tomorrow is the end of the month. It's also the last day for two co-workers that I've worked with for a while - one for years and years, the other more recent but necessary to how I operate in my job. They are leaving because they've been laid off. Overall, four employees have been let go. It would have been five, but my friend Nick died before the cuts were made, so they just didn't replace him and the number went down to four. One friend, my editor, is already gone. He left last week and has another job. I haven't seen one of them since the announcement. And the last two are trying to sort and finish up stuff before walking out the door for the last time. Except for my editor, none of them are going to other jobs, but are still looking. They have families and commitments and unique talents - but no jobs. I've been feeling sad about this for a while, but the immediacy of tomorrow's departures is bringing it home.

And I heard more bad news last night. My BFF's son who has had Ewing's sarcoma, fought and won (losing a leg in the process) has had a recurrence. It's in his spine this time. My heart goes out to my friend. She's not had an easy life, but has met every challenge like a champ. She is a tigress when it comes to her kids and I know if she could get between her son and his cancer, she would in a heartbeat. But that's not possible. All she can do is be supportive, love him, and do the things that must be done.

I have friends fighting battles, friends in pain, friends who don't know what's going to happen next. I can't list them all here, but God knows who they are and what they need. And all I can do is pray for them.

My prayer list is getting pretty long.

In here

2011-08-29T14:20:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, I feel like there is a strange membrane around me that doesn't let me feel everything I should. I think I developed it back when I was with my first (abusive) husband. Don't let anyone in. People can mash themselves up against it, but no one can really touch me. I worry about that sometimes.

But my son... he is a different story. He's my only shot at parenthood, an unexpected miracle when I didn't expect to ever be a mother. He's here inside my wall. Closer than anyone else, perhaps because he came from my body and was concieved in love. The mere idea that something awful could happen to him brings me to tears and clutches my heart like an attack on my soul.

This is why I have to WORK at allowing him his independence. The world feels hollow when he's not near, even when he's frustrating me or pissing me off, I'd rather he was here with me. Such is the mother-plight.

And now that he's growing into a young man, I will have to reinvent myself again, into someone that is able to stand back and let him make his own choices without interfering. His time with me will be less and less, which is how it should be. And I know that as empty nest begins to loom in a few years, I'll be snipping apron strings at a furious pace whether I want to or not. And I'll be okay because I know this is what is supposed to happen.

I worry about my husband though. He doesn't let go as readily, even when he knows he needs to. Empty nesting will be very hard on him.

Shoeless Sayre

2011-08-23T13:59:00.000-05:00

Not my ankle but looks like it.

What is going on with my feet? You know that vaguely stretched out, uncomfortable feeling you can get when you've eaten too much? Well, I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business and getting things done when I felt that sensation down in my feet. I scooted the chair out from the desk and looked and sure enough, both ankles were swollen.

Now, I understand that if you're still for too long, that can happen. I made the mistake of googling it and found all kinds of horrible causes (heart failure, diabetes, deep vein thrombosis and a host of other horrors). Certain drugs, three of which I take daily, can also cause it. But up until recently, I haven't really had trouble with any of those things.

I think it's my shoes.

Shoes and I have not had the best of relationships. For one thing, my feet are very tall through the middle. I inherited that from my dad. They've always been a bit boxy in the toes but since I got pregnant with my son, my feet have almost literally turned into duck feet. Finding shoes that are comfortable (or even fit) has been a challenge since then. I have a couple of pairs of sneakers, a pair of flip flops and a pair of Tevas (with adjustable straps for the toe area). Those are my shoes.

Because I am a walking furnace, I don't wear the sneakers very often. My feet get so hot in them! So the shoes of choice have been the flip flops (which have now caused a very uncomfortable callus at the junction of big toe and piggies underneath) and the Tevas, which have been my go-to shoes for a couple of years.

The Tevas are apparently strangling my feet. The strap across the ankle seems to cause my feet to swell up. If I wear them with out the strap fastened, no problem. Fasten the strap and they start looking like someone stuck a valve in them and blew them up.

I'm beginning to wonder if I can continue to wear shoes at all....

New Year, New School

2011-08-23T06:24:00.000-05:00

It's been a long, sometimes boring, summer for my boy. Most of his friends have divorced parents and were out of town for the summer to live with the "other" parent. Or they were in camps (which we used to do but can't afford right now). He spent much of it either on his bike in the woods with his dad or on his butt in front of the computer or video games while I worked at home. There were a couple of highlights - a week of sleep-away camp and three horse-back riding lessons, but otherwise it's been very quiet and very long. You can see why ZBoy might be anxious to go back to school. After the disaster of last year, it kind of surprised me, but he was quite thrilled to have the start of school finally arrive. Yesterday was the day!

He's attending a charter school now. It's much smaller than the zoo that was his middle school last year. They have to wear uniforms, which is fine with me. It takes the pressure off figuring out what to wear every morning. I was up Sunday night hemming pants. He's had a rather astounding growth spurt this summer and I didn't want to do it too early and have him wearing floods to school. As it was, the pants I bought thinking I'd need to take up a couple of inches just had to have the hem turned up once (and I left the hem intact because it probably won't be long before I have to let them down again). He's taller than his sister-in-law now and almost as tall as me.

He'll be riding the bus (which has a stop very close to our house), but the first day I drove him and the massive bag of supplies to school. Somehow, a crucial piece of paper disappeared from his folder and he didn't have a schedule when we went to Orientation on Thursday night, so we had to go to the office to get his schedule before class. The problem was quickly sorted out and as we headed back downstairs so he could wait in the cafeteria for the first bell, I grabbed his arm and stopped him on the landing. He's at that age now, embarrassed by public displays of affection by parental units, so I just said that I wasn't going to hug or kiss him when I left, but that I loved him and hoped he had a wonderful day. He smiled at me and said thanks. I think it was for not hugging him and hoping he'd have a great day. I kept walking as he turned off for the cafeteria, but I glanced back at his head disappearing into the crowd and felt that little hitch in my heart that comes with each milestone goodbye. There is no denying that my baby is growing up. His head was above most of the others in the hallway.

He called me as soon as his dad picked him up at the bus stop. He had a great day, he LOVES his school and I could tell he was feeling relieved. The first day at Raa he knew it was going to be a tough year. There are no such misgivings this year and I'm glad. Now he can spend his energies learning instead of dealing with his environment.

We're off and running!

Horses, Part 2

2011-08-19T18:05:00.000-05:00

Z had his second riding lesson this week. This time, when he rounded the corner of the stable, the giant horse didn't freak him out as much. We could see Honey down in the ring with a girl student, so we waited for them to come up.

But this week, Honey wasn't the horse for him. This is Puddin' - a much larger horse than Honey.

There were more balance exercises, lots more posting practice, and some riding on his own weaving in and out of cones. His instructor was the owner of the stables, Rob. He told ZBoy that he really wanted him to get good at posting because it makes riding so much easier on the body.

This time when he rode back to the stable, he did it completely on his own.

I asked him if the bigger horse was scary. He thought about it a minute, then said it wasn't. It was really cool to be up that high and the only time it was a little scary was when he had to get off. THEN it seemed like a long way down!

ADDED LATER:

I really wish we had the money to continue with a weekly lesson, but we can swing one once a month. Because the first two were a gift from his grandparents, Darling Man and I sprung for one more lesson before school starts. Friday morning, Darling Man took him off to the stables while I went to work. I sent my camera along with him and he got a good picture of Z riding. He got to trot on his own today, which he said was really bumpy and he felt off-balance even though he did his balance exercises at a trot earlier. One of those things that just takes practice!

I love how he looks on Puddin'! Very confident!

Wordless Wednesday - Last Glorious Days of Summer

2011-08-17T09:09:00.002-05:00

Hot

2011-08-14T18:46:00.001-05:00

It's been a long, hot summer. Lots of days over 100 degrees. Lots of days with humidity that makes you feel like you could drink the air. Lots of days of teasing cloud build-up with nothing to show for it but lots of tantalizing rumbling.

There have been a few actual rains, but not nearly enough. Luckily, I firmly believe in letting my grass grow and when I cut it, I do so on the highest setting. Unlike my neighbors, I haven't had to water my lawn but once this summer and it still looks nice and green. The guy next door mows his to the height of a putting green and could probably retire on the amount of money he spends on his water bill in a month.

Even though this past week hasn't been the worst in terms of heat, I think the wearing down aspect of so much heat finally got to me. The final straw seems to have been the garage sale my friend Suzanne had yesterday.

I loaded up my car the night before and arrived a little after 6am. Stepping out of my car with its pleasant fan blowing cooled air in my always-hot face was like being slapped with a hot towel. Suzanne and her folks were already at it, so I set up my stuff, parked my car and people started trickling in right at 7am.

The heat only got worse. By 9:30am, we were taking turns sitting under the fan on her front porch and drinking tall glasses of ice water. The sun beat down on the driveway full of stuff for sale and only the hardiest of garage sale fanatics braved the heat and humidity looking for deals. None of us fared as well as we'd hoped in making some money, but it wasn't because we didn't have the goods. Mother Nature was working against us.

I reloaded my car and rather than unload it at home, I went in the house and sat in the AC in front of a fan and drank lots more ice water. Finally, when I could move again, I got in the pool - only to have to get out again almost immediately because of lightning in the area. No rain, just lots of lightning and thunder. I didn't get to cool my core, but I did cool off the surface at least.

Sunday has been unproductive. I got up and got to church, but ever since I got home, I've felt spectacularly lazy. A movie and some crochet. Darling Man made dinner (terriyaki redfish, brown rice and broccoli) and I wrote this. The sum of my Sunday. Recovering from Saturday.

Really though, isn't that what Sunday is for?

The Proper Attitude

2011-08-07T22:23:00.000-05:00

Sitting near the back of the church affords me the opportunity to observe my fellow worshipers. I don't do it all the time, but occasionally, something will jump out at me about these people who are becoming my second family and I think about it.

Today, I noticed how they prayed. There are lots of ways to do it. Some stand, head bowed. Some kneel, backs straight, hands clasped tightly together. Every now and then I see the hands straight up and together the way art most often portrays praying hands. Some half-kneel - those people whose knees hurt when full weight is on them, so they take some of the pressure off by resting their backsides on the edge of the pew. Still kneeling, but not the more formal straight back pose. One couple is interesting... he stands to pray while in the pew and she kneels, but when they go up to the altar for communion, he kneels and she stands. One day I might get up the nerve to ask them about that.

Personally, I favor the half-kneel (achy knees, don't 'cha know), with hands loosely clasped. Sometimes head bowed, sometimes looking up, sometimes straight ahead. This is the attitude I adopt for church.

But in my everyday life, prayer happens sitting down, standing at the sink, lying in bed in the middle of the night, driving to work or waiting for lunch. Sometimes in the shower or mowing the lawn. Lots of times it happens while cleaning the pool or cooking dinner.

It's not really something a person is taught. It comes in time.

When I was a young teen, I loved going to garage sales. And book stores. Browsing the rickety card tables loaded down with dog-eared books or the pristine pages sitting on organized shelves... it didn't matter to me. I just loved books. I don't remember exactly where I got Papa's Daughter back then. I suspect a bookstore as I remember crisp pages at some point, but as time went by, the pages were bent, the spine broken and bits of the cover fell off. It was a well-loved, oft-read book. I can't tell you exactly what it was about... a teenaged girl named Button and her discovery of boys and straining against the strictures of her father, the preacher, I think. But the thing that jumped out at me even then was her mother's relationship with God. She talked to him out loud while setting the table, making the beds, hanging the laundry - like a friend who'd come to visit and she was filling him in on all the news, her worries, her happiness, as she went about the business of her day. One day, I thought all those years ago, I want to have that kind of relationship with God.

In the book, Mama was considered a bit of a rebel. She didn't assume the proper attitude for prayer, which was a bit scandalous as she was the preacher's wife. But I think she followed the commandment to pray without ceasing to the letter. God was not a Sunday-and-religious-holiday kind of God to her, but a constant companion in her everyday life.

And today, I realized that I had evolved in my own relationship to be very much like the one in the book. I talk to him all the time. Mostly in silence, but sometimes aloud. And I find that if I listen, He answers as well. Sometimes it's not clear until later or the response I expected, but He always answers.

I believe that I have learned the proper attitude.

Nervous Glee

2011-08-07T08:45:00.000-05:00

You might have to turn up the volume, but you can hear the instructor talking and ZBoy laughing with glee as the horse carries him around in a circle at a trot. Boo, the instructor said, "I'm glad you're not nervous!" And the Boy replied, "Oh, I'm nervous - but I'm having a GREAT time!"

He did not want me to post this on YouTube to upload here. He was okay with it being on the blog though. After some mean comments about a video I posted of him on YouTube, he didn't want to go there again. Can't say as I blame him.

Horses, horses, horses!

2011-08-06T16:41:00.000-05:00

When ZBoy turned 12 last April, his grandparents gifted him with a Groupon for two horse-back riding lessons at a local stable. Between camp and a somewhat hotter than usual summer, we decided to wait until August to redeem (It couldn't possibly be hotter in August than it was in June and July could it??? Well.. yes - it could.). We drove out to the stable, but it wasn't clear where we were supposed to go, so we just parked and looked around.

As we rounded the corner of the stable, we found the office (with no one in it) and discovered a couple of horses out of their stalls being groomed. The one in the foreground was huge. His ears brushed the rafters of the stable. The one further down was harder to gage. Z turned to look at me with large eyes, saying "they're a lot bigger than I thought they were!!!" It did make him quite nervous and he was definitely having second thoughts about climbing up on top of one.

The horse further down the way turned out to be the one he would ride and as we approached, he saw that the back of this horse was only as high as the instructor's shoulders and his. Not nearly as scary as the giant we passed. His instructor was a personable young woman named Boo and you could tell that she just LOVES teaching kids about horses. It took a couple of saddle changes to find one that Z could ride comfortably, but only one shot at finding a helmet to fit his head. As Boo saddled Honey (odd name for a male horse), she explained about the parts she was putting on and when Z asked about the bridle and bit, she demonstrated by telling him to put his fingers in his mouth to stretch it out, then to pull on one side or the other. His head followed the pull, and on horses, their bodies follow their heads. So if he pulled on the rein on one side, the horse's head would turn and his body would follow. Made sense to me! And more importantly, it made sense to Z.

They walked out to the ring and once they got out there, Boo showed him how to walk around the horse and explained about how horses see. The conversation continued once he mounted and as they adjusted stirrups and talked about how to sit and how to use your feet in the stirrups.

She explained about reins, and how the mane is a good thing to grab onto because of the fat layer underneath... and then, with a line attached, she started the horse walking around in a circle so Z could get a feel for what riding a horse was like.

After a couple of rounds, they begain some balance exercises. Arms out to the side, both arms straight up, alternating arms up and down... ZBoy did very well!

The moved on to posting, which is what keeps your rear end from being bashed to death while riding. It's using your legs with the motion of the horse to ease the up and down motion. You stand up in the stirrups, legs bent and alternate between standing and sitting. It does, however, give your legs a heck of a workout!!! Z got so good at it that Boo decided to go ahead and let him start working on steering. She kept him on the line for a couple of rounds, telling him what to do to get the horse to go where he wanted him to, then removed the line and told Z to ride towards a light post, then turn left, ride to the gate, turn right, go right up to the fence, then turn again. It wasn't perfect, but by the time the lesson ended, Z could get Honey to go pretty much where he wanted him to go.

In fact, Boo was confident enough in ZBoy's progress to let him ride untethered all the way back up to the stable. There he dismounted, grinning like a fool, and he and Boo talked about his lesson and how well he did. He thanked Honey for his patience and Boo for her help, then accompanied me to the car, absolutely glowing with joy. We need to call next week to schedule the second lesson. Since this was his first time on a horse, they recommended separating the lessons by a bit to let his body recover because he was going to be sore! I want to make sure Darling Man gets to come next time (he had to work unexpectedly) because he NEEDS to see this.

We celebrated with lunch at Crispers - and he's STILL grinning!

Hoolie!

2011-07-31T21:11:00.001-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, my mother sent me an email informing me that they were going to have a hoolie at the farm. Clarification was provided further into the email, but out of curiosity, I looked it up.

Hoolie
1. An Irish get together; party in a small place, usually a residence
2. One who rides a Moto Guzzi in a sportsman-like manner (something else to look up)
3. A strong wind. Doesn't have to be storm force, just a strong wind that sways big trees
4. A rowdy person typically from Irish (or Gaelic) descent; short for Hooligan.
5. Another name for a cigarette or joint (Um... I don't think so)
6. A Protestant wake, predominantly in Northern Ireland (we aren't dead yet)
7. A can of non-cheapass beer (or Coke Zero?)

Hmmm... we aren't at all Irish (to my knowledge) but Gaelic fits with our Welsh background. In this case, the hoolie was a party for my brother John, whose birthday was today and also a going away party as he leaves for another tour in Kuwait tomorrow. Happy freakin' birthday to you, Bro.

Actually, going was his choice and he's glad of it. The circumstances of his life are much happier these days and it makes going both better and worse.

There was food. LOTS of food!

Jerry brought a couple of boston butts - one marinated in Crystal hot sauce and the other in a lemon juice/brown sugar mixture. Let me just say... Jerry should open a restaurant or cook in one that specializes in barbecue. I haven't tasted anything that good in a long time.

Mom also put together a sandwich board. Different kinds of bread, turkey, ham, cheese. There was also a bowl of homemade coleslaw made by our friend Duffy, a tray of cut up veggies and one of fruit. There was enough food there to feed an army. As it was we had 15 people for lunch and there was STILL food left over. Happily, I brought quite a bit home with me and we'll be munching on it for quite a while!

I brought deviled eggs, which filled this tray plus another smaller plate. By lunchtime, this is all that was left. When lunch was over, they were all gone.

I also made the birthday cake, but as you can see, my writing skills leave much to be desired. It looks like I start out every word with Parkinson's disease. It was a French Vanilla cake with Milk Chocolate frosting at the birthday boy's request. It also featured two little army men, which kind of disappeared against the frosting.

In addition to immediate family, we had some friends come too. Mom's best friend, Duffy came to help out and be a part of the celebrations. I'm so glad she was able to join us! Mom would have had a harder time pulling this off without her help. She made the awesome coleslaw and helped decorate for the party.

John's friends Scott (business partner and friend) and Scott's wife, Carolyn (or Caroline, I'm not sure) also joined us. I think I've met them before somewhere, but where that might have been escapes me at the moment... they were a nice addition to the gathering!

There were young people there... two of John's kids, Maggie and Walker; Lynn's daughter Madison and her boyfriend, and of course, ZBoy. They hung out and played scrabble and "who am I?" Walker was NOT pleased to be Osama Bin Laden! I was so glad that Z was joining in. I think I have Camp Weed to thank for that. Before his experience there, he would have hung back and not participated. Today, he had a great time!

Even though we used paper plates and plastic utensils, there was still washing up to do! John and Lynn took care of it and for once, I didn't have to do anything in there. I admit it felt odd and somehow wrong to have the guest of honor washing up though. Jerry took a well-earned nap after lunch. He was up much of last night working on those Boston butts. Between those and the crazy hours he works, I wasn't at all surprised.

After the clean-up and a brief visiting around again, it was time for cake. You'll be happy to know that John blew out ALL his candles, so his wish should come true. Like most family gatherings, there was plenty of laughter as we broke bread (or in this case, cake) together.

There was the usual card openings and then Dad handed John a gift. We don't usually gift for birthdays, but this was special. He gave John his birthday book prepared by James (with James' approval) that is a picture book of the area of North Wales that Dad grew up in. John spent a year living there with Grandma J and the family on Glyn Artro and I think it may have been the experience that made him grow up. James went there recently and took lots of pictures that made us all homesick for a place we'd never lived - except for Dad and John. Dad will get another copy of the book, but he wanted John to have something special to take to the Sandbox with him - cool pictures to gaze upon during those unbearably hot days and nights in Kuwait.

This has been a bittersweeet birthday for John, I think. He's got a lovely girlfriend, who seems to get him and he her. They enjoy their time together, which will be damned little this coming year as John doesn't really get much leave time. However, his life seems to be falling into place at this last leaving and I sincerely hope that when he celebrates his next birthday, all the pieces will fit together and life will become... magical.

Cool Under My Feet

2011-07-28T18:43:00.000-05:00

Another chapter in the ongoing saga of making this house we bought four years ago our home... You may recall that the decor/color scheme was rather unfortunate when we first moved in. I think the thing I objected to the most was the color of the carpet and the walls (a lighter shade of the carpet). It looked like a funeral home.

It didn't take long for me to start changing things. Paint is the easiest way to radically change the feel of a place. It took a few tries to find colors that would work in the space with the light...

Flooring is harder to change, but when you do, it can make a huge difference. Our first stab at installing laminate was the diningroom. I'd say it was pretty successful.

My boy was away at camp and I was tackling various jobs around the house (stairs) when Darling Man got a wild hair to pull out the carpet in the livingroom and lay more flooring. So Friday afternoon, I went to Lowes and got flooring and underlayment and unloaded it into the family room.

And Saturday morning, we began....

As you can see, the carpet is dark. It's been cleaned to within an inch of its life since we adopted a geriatric dachsund who was not always willing to go much further than her chair to relieve herself, so it didn't smell so great anymore either.

The paint color was a washed out blue. I liked the blue, but wished for more color. The carpet seemed to suck the color right off the walls.

We ripped out carpet and pad, which actually didn't take very much time (leaving the bit under the piano for last). The part that took a lot of time was removing the tack strips and about a billion staples from the floor. Luckily, when I was taking staples out of the stairs, I found the perfect tool.

We like to have fun when we tackle projects like this. Darling Man played the piano while I pulled staples out. The rest of the time, we played CDs and sang along.

DM hauled the carpet and pad away to the dump and we both took the opportunity to consider how we wanted to lay the floor. He called to say that he thought I was right (upon reflection) - then asked if I was wanting to paint in there too. As a matter of fact, I did. I happened to have a gallon of "Spa" from Olympic that I was intending for a bedroom, but it turned out to be just what I wanted for the livingroom. Still blue, but more chroma to it. I painted the livingroom while I waited for him to get back.

I rolled out the underlayment (the bright blue stuff) and as soon as I got it down, we began putting the laminate down. It was easy and pretty fast. Except when we had to do cuts or fit the boards to door jams and such. We used a circular saw for the straight cuts, and I'd recently purchased a Dremel Trio, which we used for the more intricate cuts. It took a little practice - and after I made the mistake of critiquing one of DM's efforts, he told me to do it myself. Two hours later, I managed a serviceable cut... Note to self: don't offer unsolicited criticism when you don't want to do it yourself.

Unbelieveably, we got all but the last row done before we had to go get the Boy at camp. Saturday night we were getting a bit snippy with each other after a long day of work, so I said we should call it quits because we were too tired to do it well. Enough was done to make ZBoy's eyes bug out of his head when he got home, so it was time to quit for the day. The Boy was suitably impressed when he got home, and thoroughly enjoyed laying on the cool floor and playing with his pets - who also enjoyed the cool floor!

Sunday, I tossed the drapes that were in there. They might have been original to the house. They were dusty and stained with smoke and were beyond recycling (you know me - if it can be used again, I'll find a way). Instead, I hung these white drapes I bought last year at a garage sale for $5. They help lighten up the room quite a bit. It was also kind of echo-y and Darling Man asked if I were opposed to putting a rug down in there. Since we're planning to make this the diningroom (and the diningroom a sitting room), I thought it was a terrific idea. Luckily, I visited FaceBook and my friend Barbara was wondering what to do with the rug that used to be under her diningroom table, as it didn't fit in with her decor. I asked if I could have it, and she and her husband brought it over that evening. The color is a little greeney, but I think it goes great in that room! Now I just have to unload the diningroom table and get it and the china cabinet into the livingroom/new diningroom and we'll be done but for whatever I decide to put on the walls. Overall, a most satisfying project!!!!

He's HOME!

2011-07-25T09:02:00.001-05:00

It's been a long, strange week here at the SayreSmiles household. My boy was gone for the first time to Camp Weed - a camp run by the Episcopal Church. Last year he was adamant that he was not ready to go to a sleep-away camp or to be away from home for that amount of time. This year he was chomping at the bit to go. So he went.

It was awfully quiet here. His presence takes up so much space and makes noise even when he's sleeping - we know he's here. And this week, we felt that absence. Very quiet.

As long as it was quiet like this, we decided to get some house stuff done that we've been wanting to do and just never could with so much family thing happening. One of the things we did was put a new floor in the livingroom and paint it (there will be another post about that later). The change is dramatic - and Darling Man and I made a bet as to what Z would say when he walked in the door.

Sunday morning, we got up early, downed the caffeine-filled beverage of our choice and drove the 85 miles to Camp Weed, arriving just before the service in Mandi's Chapel. Now THAT is a gorgeous church! I wish I'd brought my camera, but I'll show you with off-the-internet photos:

This is from across the lake (which is still green, but regrettably empty). At first glance, it doesn't seem to fit in with the somewhat rustic other buildings, but once you get used to it, it seems perfect here. It's up on stilts, probably both for the view and to avoid possible flooding problems.

The interior is all wood. The floors are gorgeous (we are hyper aware of floors at the moment) and most people who've been walking through the sandy trails at Camp Weed removed their shoes before entering.

These are interior shots. The first one is from the altar back towards the congregation. There are also seating areas off to each side of the altar where the parents sat, and the kids filled up the area directly in front of the altar. The second picture is the altar itself. I've never been in a church that felt so full of light (all kinds). Z said that the campers from his group came in here and talked some, and one of the counselors asked if anyone wanted to come back and get married here. A lot of hands went up - you can just see how wonderful a venue this would be - even if you are only 12 or 13 years old.

Just before the service started, the kids came in. Z's group was near the end, and when he finally spotted us, he walked rather quickly to us with a big grin on his face, then FLUNG himself into our arms. I think he might have teared up a little. I know we did. Fierce hugs were exchanged and whispered-into-hair I love yous, then he rejoined his cabin and Darling Man and I returned to our seats.

The service was lovely with lots of lively singing and hand-clapping. We didn't have books, so I did it from memory, while Darling Man just stood and listened. As lovely as the service was, I couldn't wait for it to end so we could collect our kid and go home together.

After getting his checkout card, we went to collect him at the cabin. He'd packed everything before the service and was waiting We got him and his bags and said our thank yous and farewells to the counselors and hit the road.

On the way, he told us all about what they did, what they ate, what time they got up and went to bed, how comfortable the bunk was, that he took a shower every day (but didn't brush his teeth every day) - he talked non-stop. He LOVED camp and wants to go next year. And the year after. And eventually become a counselor himself. I told him that if he wanted to do that, we'd find a way to get him there. Mostly, it was just wonderful to hear the music of his voice piping from the back seat.

When we got home, I opened the door and he gasped, then said "Whoa!" At which point I gleefully pointed out that I won the bet. Darling Man stated emphatically that I did not, as Boy did not say "Wow" but "Whoa". I still think I won. Whoa is a lot closer to Wow than it is to WTF?!

The dogs went crazy, of course. Lots of pets and licking. The cats were happy. We were happy.

As Boy snuggled into his bed, he thanked me for letting him go, but said it was very good to be home.

Yes, it is.

Today's Project

2011-07-21T22:31:00.000-05:00

Meet my stairs. They are steep and narrow and very unattractive. If they were looking for a date, no one would be interested and they'd wind up an old maid. They are made of wood that was never meant to be seen and have spent the majority of their time on this planet covered by hideous gray/green carpet. In fact, this whole house was covered in gray/green carpet with matching gray/green paint. Funeral home decor. And I've been working for the past four years to get rid of it all.

The walls have all been painted at least once and sometimes twice in the search for colors and finishes that will work in this house. The upstairs hall and staircase have stymied me though. The hall has been Crescent Moon (kind of yellowy), Cloud Nine (blue), and Lemon Mint (a bright yellow green). None of those colors worked. The paint in the hall and in the stairway need to be light and to brighten up both those areas which have no natural light. I've been studying the staircase ever since Darling Man pulled up the carpet in a fit of "god I hate this carpet" and we discovered a wood stair case underneath.

You may remember this post when we originally started exploring options for dealing with the staircase.

We pulled up the top tread to see what was under the stairs and decided to decorate under the stairs with art to be found far in the future. I'm happy to report that it's still there and is none the worse for wear.

But the treads of this staircase aren't faring well. They need to be stained or treated somehow. The steps also made lots of noise. It's one thing when a clumpy near-teen stomps up the stairs - you expect that noise. But when thunder herds of elephants sound a lot like your little cat coming upstairs too? Obviously something needed to be done.

So I set about looking at the problem again and decided on a course of action. As far as cosmetics go, I decided to paint the risers to brighten up the staircase. The same color will go on the walls. It's called Lotus Flower and is a very light greeny white. I think it will look good. And the treads? Thinking a stain, not too dark, with polyethelyne in it. I would pull up the treads, paint the risers, sand the treads and re-install before staining.

Sounds simple, but like always, complications arose. I don't know if you can see it, but the tread is split. It doesn't go all the way across, but it's probably a matter of time. I'm not sure it can be fixed, so I decided to take it to Lowe's to see about getting a replacement. Easier said than done.

This tread doesn't match ANY known ready cut of wood. The measurements are all strange. It's 1.5 inches thick (wood comes in 1 inch and 2 inches, but not 1.5 inches). It's 37 inches long, and 11 inches deep (comes in 8, 10, and 12 inches). I asked about getting a custom cut, but was told that I'd need to go to a lumber company or sawmill for something like that. I did (and still am) consider getting a 1" thick and 10" deep board. There's a little overhang to our stairs, so maybe I could eliminate that and make 10" work. There's also a space under each riser that looks like the edge of the tread should fit into, but with 1.5 inches of thickness, it won't happen. I think 1" would work, but I'm hestitant to commit because it's got to be strong and sturdy. I called my Uncle Tom and he thought we could probably fix that tread (he's got lots of woodworking machinery) but that would be down the road a bit. Still thinking about this one.

In the meantime, I hd to get all those gaps covered, so I re-installed the treads for the time being, and started the painting process. Even though the paint I chose had primer built in, it took two coats of paint.

I think it turned out pretty well! Can't wait to see how well it lightens up the hallway and staircase's glum atmostphere.

Tomorrow, I paint the hall!

Staying in Touch

2011-07-21T12:50:00.000-05:00

One of the strangest things about Boy being at camp is being so out of touch. We talk. A lot. About everything. There are hugs and kisses and punches (Volkswagon game in the car called "Punch Buggy") and laughs and the occasional snipe. With him gone, it's quiet. Vewy, vewy quiet.

He went off for a week with no cell phone, no laptop, no MP3, no electronics at all. This was of great concern to him (and to Darling Man) because being out of touch is just not something we do. The camp didn't want him to have these things because they get in the way of forming real-life friendships and interfere with those conversations held with mouth and ears in the dark after lights-out or sitting around the table in the dining hall. The kids would lose out on the real friendships that form when kids actually interact with each other in the here and now.

I agree with the no electronics rule. I think he spends too much time with them as it is and a break from it would be a very healthy thing!

"But how will I get in touch with you?" he wailed... I handed him envelopes, paper and pen.

"You write letters," I said to him. "You write to me; I write to you. It's fun!"

He shot me a dubious look, but packed them away in his bag. On the way to camp, we stopped and got stamps so he'd be all set.

When I got home, I sent an email. The camp has a general email box set up that I can send "letters" to the Boy by putting his name in the subject line. At some point during the day, they print them out and give them to the kids. It's a brilliant way to write a letter without relying on the US Post Office to get it there.

But I'm writing the old-fashioned kind of letters too. Short notes with drawings and envelopes with pictures drawn on them. The first one I sent had a pine tree with a rabbit under it. The second, a picture of his dad fishing at the beach. The one I sent today had an elf leaning against a tree stump playing a flute. Strange little drawings for his envelopes. I drew on the letters themselves too. A picture of Revan back in his cone. Me with a hammer and nail next to the stairs. Walter in his wheelchair (a local character we've been a little worried about). Revan trying to wake up the pillows on his bed because it was time to eat. I'm not much of an artist, but those little drawings made those letters come to life.

I sent the last one today (Thursday). It might get there tomorrow or Saturday, but we pick him up on Sunday, so the chances are that today's letter would be the last one delivered anyway. He won't be without mail though - I'll still be sending him email until I see him on Sunday!

Incidently, I have NOT received a letter from him. I hope this is a good sign - that he's having a great time and is too busy to write!

Snip. Snip.

2011-07-20T20:23:00.000-05:00

It was a big day, but it sure didn't seem like it at the beginning.

At age 12, my son was finally ready to go to a sleep-away camp for a week. We'd offered last year, but he admitted that he didn't think he was ready. This year, he all but jumped at the offer. My little boy is growing up and ready to begin the separation process.

In the morning, we ran errands. Went to the bank. Got the oil changed on the car. Filled the car and got a carwash. The last item on our list was lunch. As we drove up Capital Circle, I heard an odd noise coming from the front of the car. It sounded like a flat... a flappy, flapping flat - but the car didn't drive any differently. I resolved to check it out when we got to McDonalds. I almost never go into that restaurant, but that day we parked. I got out and inspected under the car the best I could but couldn't see anything. As Z got out, he noticed that one of the panels on the side of my car was missing! Two things gone wrong before our little road trip. Argh! We went in, got our lunch and came back out to retrace our steps. The hideous flappy noise began again, so I pulled over where there was plenty of space to look under the car all around the front and discovered that the oil pan cover was just barely hanging on. We drove back to the oil change place and they reattached it with zip ties (I'd lost most of the clips that held it on), then back to the car wash where apparently the dryer at the end got under the edge of the panel and pulled it off. Those things must be powerful! They'd already found it and walked back out to the car to put it back on for me.

Finally, errands completed, we went back home to collect Darling Man and started off on our hour and a half drive a bit later than we'd anticipated.

I was driving and the guys were ragging on me because I was going 69 mph (speed limit 70). People were passing almost constantly, including a Smart Car. It seemed so WRONG, but it made me laugh. DM finally asked why 69 and not 70 (or even 75). So I sped up to 70 and the car started shaking. I've apparently got a tire unbalanced somewhere and 70 was just enough to make it very uncomfortable. They didn't rag me anymore after that.

The closer we got, the more nervous/anxious/excited Z got. He was laughing a little too loudly and talking non-stop. He's never been away from us for more than a night or two and it was always with someone he knew well. This was CAMP. Sleep-away for a week. With strangers. I imagine that in his mind it was kind of scary.

But this particular camp is special. It's affiliated with the church and I've never heard of anyone who had a bad time there. When we arrived, we went to check in in the gym. And standing in line right in front of me was an old friend from my EYC days. She was bringing her daughter, who was the same age as Z. We made introductions all the way around and now Z knew at least one person who would be at camp. That's how it begins.

After registration, we found his cabin, took his stuff in and helped him make his bunk. There was another kid sitting on the bunk opposite. I introduced myself and Z and he responded with his name (Bronson). He was very quiet and I think he and Z were both feeling a little shy and out of their depth. But as soon as the bed was made, Z told us we could go. DM and I gave him a little hug and walked out of the cubicle. I stopped to stick his sheet bag into his suitcase and he came around the corner and gave both of us fierce hugs, whispered "I love you" and "Thanks!" Then he disappeared back around the corner to rejoin Bronson.

It was a quiet drive home. DM and I were both lost in our own ruminations. It wasn't just Z's first time away from home, but our first time without him since he'd been born. Usually when there's travel happening, it's either me or DM and the other stays home with Z.. Or Z goes somewhere with one of us. But he's always with one or the other of us and now... he wasn't with either one of us. It was a little unnerving.

And it was our first time alone together since he was born. Strangely, it was kind of awkward at first but after a while, we fell back into being us instead of Mom and Dad. It was reassuring to know that we could still talk to each other and be with each other without him around. After all, it won't be long before he leaves us for good. This is just the first step.

This summer, we've been working on independence. Doing things for himself. Spending time on his own. Learning to take care of his own stuff. But this is the first separation. The first apron string to be cut.

It's a good thing my apron has many, many strings.

Yes, I'm Still Alive

2011-07-12T21:59:00.000-05:00

I know it's been a while... I've been busy. Life has a way of getting in the way of blogging sometimes. I have a few projects in the works, in a addition to doing tons of laundry and sorting it out for a rummage sale the church is doing in about three weeks. Trust me... there's LOTS of stuff to get rid of now that the Boy has outgrown everything he owns AGAIN. That has to end sometime, right?

Anyway, I'll be back in a few days. Just have to get it all done.

You Want a Piece of Me?

2011-07-07T11:40:00.000-05:00

Last night, something that may have been fortuituous happened. Our satellite receiver/DVR died. It would turn on, but not do anything. We had called a few months ago to cancel our service because it was an expense we really didn't need and they hooked us up with a "select" plan that would give us some channels, free Starz and Encore for 6 months and free receiver/DVR. That sounded pretty good, so I signed up for that deal. Except the channels we got were mostly shopping and infomercial, news and the kind of channels you'd get on basic cable (TNT, TBS, Lifetime). No American Movie Classics or Turner Movie Classics or any of the other channels we would watch. But we went along with it until last night when the receiver died and we realized it was decision time.

My life is busy. Everyone and everything seems to need a piece of me and my time. I have dogs and cats that need attention. I have a son that needs attention. I have a husband that needs me. A full-time job. And a house with about a billion projects in the works. That doesn't even include hobby time or exercising time or just downtime. And of course there are the family obligations from time to time as well. Big family, lots of occasions. I love those and spending time with family but always in the back of my mind is some little voice that says "those stairs aren't going to get done if you keep running off to do stuff."

And honestly, the TV is a distraction. Instead of accomplishing something at the end of the day, I plunk down, turn on the TV and see what's on. It's not like I even have something specific in mind to watch - I just scroll down the guide until I see something that catches my eye. A colossal waste of time.

After a brief discussion this morning with my husband and son, we decided to cancel our satellite TV. I'm sure there will be some withdrawal pains (I'm gonna miss Drop Dead Diva), but we can get a few things over the air and we have Netflix for when we really just have to watch something.

I am relishing the idea of all the time I'll have available to me now that the TV is no longer an issue. If I tackle one little project most days when I get home from work, I can make a big dent in my to do list!

And maybe that little voice will just shut up the next time I'm partying down with my family.

Yesterday's Significance

2011-07-05T08:24:00.000-05:00

My family passed a fairly pleasant Fourth of July. My husband had to work the morning shift, so it was just me and my boy much of the day. I got up relatively early while the boy slept in - which is his usual schedule during the summer. Things don't always change just because it's a holiday.

It was somewhat lazy. I did laundry. I loaded and ran the dishwasher. I visited FaceBook and caught up with friends. Later, after lunch, ZBoy's friend William came over and they swam for a while, then came in and played video games.

Mom called and asked if we'd be interested in coming out to the farm for dinner. We had no plans and an evening at the farm sounded lovely. As soon as Darling Man got home from work, we'd head out there.

DM brought along his bike to ride home after dinner. It's a long ride (about 25-30 miles), but he's done it before and after three days of early shift work, his body was screaming at him to stretch it out and work it hard. My dad had another idea of how to work my husband's body and put him to work digging in monkey grass in the flower bed out back.

Dinner was awesome. Dad made steaks (a gift from my brother Matt) and the way he did it was so good! First he put buttrub all over them and let them sit a few minutes, then seared the outsides in a cast iron skillet. After that, he put them on a rack and BAKED them until the internal temperature was 130-140. Oh. My. God... I don't normally eat steak. Something about the density really upsets my stomach but this was absolutely amazing! I ate this steak! It was heavenly... Mom made scalloped potatoes and garlic bread and a salad from America's Test Kitchen. It looked and smelled so good... Everyone loved it!! I wish I could have eaten it, but there were lots of tomatoes in it and I'm sensitive to raw tomatoes. They make my mouth blister and it takes about a week to recover from that. But my son just LOVED it, which is odd for him. Dessert was vanilla ice cream with hot fudge on top.

So this sounds like a fairly normal Fourth of July gathering... nothing special or out of the ordinary, right? But it is special and for immigrants and their families, this celebration is out of the ordinary.

My dad is an immigrant. He came over here from England at the age of 16. There was (to my knowledge) no big impetus to get here - no war to escape from or some kind of oppression. But life required a change for him, his mother and his brother. They came here to renew their own lives. My uncle went back to England. My grandmother stayed here until I was around 8 years old. She'd remarried and settled here with her new husband. Eventually they moved to Canada and then back to England. But my dad stayed here. He found a lovely woman to marry, a job that paid enough to support him and his little family. And he became an American in 1964. He chose to make his life here.

Compared to so many other countries, this is an amazing place. We have the freedom to think what we want to, say what we want to, worship the way we want to. We have a say in our own taxation. The government belongs to us and we can change it whenever we want to. That's not to say that things are perfect here. People sometimes head down the wrong path and government follows along - but unlike countries with kings or dictators, we have the ability to turn it around without persecution or the threat of lethal upheavals. We, the people, decide what is important. What is worth paying for, what is worth working for, and what is worth dying for. Not every place has that freedom.

So while our celebrations were low key and quiet, we did celebrate being here together as a family in this land my father chose as his home.

On the Right, Towards the Back

2011-07-03T17:41:00.000-05:00

Humans are such creatures of habit. Do something a few times and somehow it becomes the way you do it.

It's kind of like school. The shy kids or the ones that were up to no good sat in the back. Hardly anyone wanted to sit up front by the teacher - she might call on you, so if it were possible, no one sat on the front row.

When I first started taking my son to church, there weren't very many people there. The back rows were always roped off in an effort to make people sit closer. My boy and I always sat in the last row that wasn't roped off. He's not a baby, but a reluctant attendee. I allowed him to bring a book to read, but I wasn't keen on him doing that in front of everyone. At least back there, he could read and not be obvious in his inattention to the service.

And honestly, that's where I felt most comfortable sitting. The ropes have been removed, so sometimes there are people behind us, but as a rule, ZBoy and I still sit toward the back. I am happy to report that the book stays home these days. It was a gradual weaning.

At first, he sat there and read it all the way through the service. Then he started putting it down for the sermon (because really, they're usually pretty great sermons). And the prayers. Eventually he'd bring it but never open it. It sat on the pew in favor of the Hymnal or the Book of Common Prayer.

A couple of weeks ago, we had a Youth Service. It was Z's first time to acolyte and he found it interesting. Today he did it again. And he'll do it again next week. He thinks it's very cool - even if the robe he has to wear is hot. When I was acolyting, the robes were lightweight cotton affairs. Now the fabric is heavier and there are snaps and such to figure out. And even after all this time, I'm still not sure how to tie the belt...

Today was different for both of us though. Today, I sat on the third row back (though still on the right). Today, I was to read the First Lesson and the Psalm.

I got my reading on Tuesday and looked over it, found a few words I wasn't sure of the pronounciation of, went to our church's website and listened to them spoken in the lectionary dictionary. The hardest one was Beer-lahairoi (the region Isaac hailed from). I said it over and over again, and read my lesson several times.

It was a long one. About Rebekah and how she came to be Isaac's wife. The wording was somewhat awkward, as Isaac's servant seemed to like to repeat himself and script out what he's going to say before he says it (I guess we all know people like that, huh?). Before the service, Nancy, the woman who sent the lesson to me asked if I'd figured out how to say Beer-lahairoi yet, so I promptly said it for her - and said it wrong. Gah!

I sat near the front so I wouldn't have much time to think about my reading on the walk from my seat to the podium up front. I wasn't nervous, exactly. Usually when I read though, I'm sitting in a little room with a microphone and someone on the other end of the building talking to me over headsets. Doing this standing up in front of people was different. I got up there, hands shaking a little and started reading.

When I read, I read like I'm telling someone a story. With inflections and pauses and very subtle voice changes. I read the Lesson like that because according to my brief training session, that's how they want it read. The goal is to have people listening to the Lector rather than reading along and never looking up. I saw a lot of faces today.

Afterwards, several people told me that they really enjoyed my reading and as people processed back from communion, I got a few thumbs up. Obviously it went pretty well.

Now that I've done it once, it won't be so scary to do it again. After all, I've already done it. And honestly, I really enjoyed it.

Next week, I may be back in my regular pew, on the right towards the back. And maybe I won't.

One Step at a Time

2011-07-03T07:42:00.001-05:00

As usual, I rather unintentionally got myself into another household project. You may remember when my husband got fed up with the carpeted stairs. He ripped out all the carpet upstairs in the hallway and down the stairs. It's been a while. In that time, I also painted the hallway the same lemon mint green as the family room downstairs.

It's beautiful in the family room, which has a sliding glass door to let in the light, but in the upstairs, dark hallway... it's rather intense. It did brighten it up, but not in a good way. I have it a long time to decide if I liked it or didn't and finally decided that I really didn't. So I went to Lowes and picked out a new color - Lotus Flower, which is a greeny/yellowy white. The beauty of it is how well it reflects light. Perfect for our dark hallway.

Painting is an easy project for me. Cut in. Roll it on. Don't lean on the wall until it's dry. You can change the whole feel of a room with painting. But being me, I like a perfect job. The hallway includes the staircase. And when Darling Man ripped out the carpet, it left glue and bits of carpet fibers on the wall. I cannot paint over it... I have to clean that up.

The stairs are in need of repair anyway. The treads are squeaky and anyone going up them makes a terrible racket. This includes the cats. Since I had to sand down the walls right next to the stairs, I decided to pull up the treads, sand properly - and I might as well deal with the stairs while I'm at it.

I've been thinking about this for a while, how to do the stairs. Because it is dark wood, that was never meant to be seen in the first place, I decided to paint the risers and stain the treads. I didn't have any stain on hand, but I could get a feel for how it would turn out by painting the riser when I painted the wall, which would be the same color.

It turned out looking pretty good. The wall cleaned up nicely and painted smoothly. Two coats of paint had the riser looking good. I only got one stair done, but I worked a lot out as I did it. There's a plan of action now.

One down, fourteen to go!

Poor Revan

2011-06-30T10:58:00.000-05:00

My poor baby. Revan has had summer skin problems since we got him. The first year, we didn't clip him and discovered it under there, to our horror about mid-way through summer. It had gotten so bad that it had turned into a staph infection. Since he's part husky and it gets so hot here in the summer, we decided to clip him after that, hoping that it would help his skin breathe and keep it healthier.

No dice. We have tried everything as he's apparently allergic to just about everything. We tried specialized food. No change. We tried different shampoos, flea preparations, brushing and combing, steroids... You name it, we've tried it. And without fail, every summer his skin just falls apart.

This year, I clipped him (not shaved - he's got fair skin and needs some sun protection, so I just shorten his hair) and things were good for a little while. Then the fleas began their season and his flea dermatitis flared up worse than ever. Frontline didn't work. Advantage helped a little but not enough. Comfortis won't even get past his lips. And spraying him stings too much. His back end pretty much went bald, his skin fiery red with raw and bleeding patches. You wanted to cry just to look at him.

I've been all over the internet, to the vet (hence the steroids), and perused shelves at PetSmart in search of help for my poor doggie.

Then I remembered. We had another dog, Nikki, who had horrible skin. It wasn't as bad as Revan's but still pretty bad. Visiting the Ace Hardware where we lived, I saw some horse shampoo that looked like it addressed all my DOG'S problems. I bought it and we washed Nikki with it twice a week. And after a while, her skin got better. In fact, it was darned near miraculous how much better she was.

So I went out in search of Eqyss Micro-Tek Medicated Horse Shampoo and could not find it in town. Darling Man rode his bike past our old Ace Hardware when he rides the trail, so the next time he went, he stopped in and bought a bottle. He also got a bottle of Equine Gel, which "neutralizes skin problems, minimizes scars, helps with scratches, rainrot and girth itch." And it helps tame his lobster skin to a barely pink. It can be used on the raw spots because it doesn't contain alcohol so it won't sting. The difference is amazing - as long as we can keep Revan from licking and chewing, which seems to have become a habit now. Hence the cone.

One night after a bath, a gel application and the cone, the improvement was amazing. He looks goofy and he gets hung up in the strangest places because he doesn't know how to maneuver around in the cone, but it's definitely worth it.

Last night he caught the edge of it on the ottoman and froze. He stood there and stood there and it wasn't until he snored that I realized he was stuck. I went and lifted the edge of the cone from the corner of the ottoman and he woke up, looked at me blearily and went upstairs to sleep. Then, in the middle of the night, I heard his feet shuffling in the hallway. Normally, he starts the night out in the master bedroom, then moves to sleep in my son's room. I got up to investigate and he'd caught the edge on the latchplate of my son's doorway. I unhooked him and he went in to lie down. He'll get the hang of it soon... because he's going to be in the cone for a while. Even with his skin looking better, he needs to break the habit of licking and chewing or he'll just wind up back in the same place.

Another Sad Day

2011-06-28T09:23:00.000-05:00

Another funeral for another co-worker. This one was my friend as well. Nick was one of those guys that everyone liked. He had hug or a pat or a kiss for everyone he knew. At work, he was a videographer, lugging cameras around on his shoulder and shooting wonderful video. He helped me out shooting some promo stuff at my house with my son and those promotions wound up going out for awards. He was good at what he did.

He was a true people person. It made him great as a floor director, telling strangers what to do and when to do it. He loved giving tours of the station to school groups and nursing home groups and everyone in between. His knowledge of the workings of the station and his personality made getting a tour of the station something that all the groups looked forward to.

He had a marvelous voice. Many years spent as a DJ and voice talent honed it to a wonderfully mellow sound that made people listen. We shared the voicing duties at the TV station for years.

But unbeknownst to me, Nick was born with a heart problem. Alone, it might not have ended his life so early, but Nick believed in living his life to the fullest - which for him included drinking and smoking. I know what those things did to me... and they must have done some serious damage to Nick as well. A few years ago, he started having some health problems. An aneurysm. Bad infections in his teeth that necessitated having them all pulled before he could have heart surgery. I filled in for his voice while he was out and once he was recovering well, he got a beautiful new set of choppers. It was nice to see his smile again.

When we moved to this new house, I began shopping at the Publix near here... and there was Nick! Almost every time I went, he was there. He'd tell me about the specials he found and sometimes we'd wander the aisles or the produce section together for a bit before separating again to do our own shopping. We joked that he was my grocery store-stalker.

Then my stalker disappeared. He was rarely at the store when I went. I knew he was having more health problems and was in and out of the hospital. When he did come to work, his voice grew thin and faded. He moved slowly. We worried, but he's always been so self-sufficient that it didn't seem right to pry more than the conversational "how are you doing today?" Sometimes he wanted to talk about it, but most times he didn't. His balance got worse and his son (the very light of his life) presented him with an adjustable cane with a built-in flashlight and horn. I was actually a little envious of that cane - it was so cool! Nick used it all the time, and we could tell he was having a good day when he shuffled around without it.

But he got weaker and weaker. The medicine he was taking made him so tired, yet ironically caused insomnia. He was always cold, always hungry, and never slept. A body can only keep that up for so long. He had an accident, totalling his car, which secretly relieved some of us who thought he shouldn't be driving in his condition. A brief stay in the hospital and he was back out.

A week later, I ran into him at Publix. I was so glad to see him! I gave him a hug, told him how much I'd missed seeing him when I shopped, that I thought of him every time I went to the store and how glad I was to see him there today. We walked together slowly, looking at things on the shelves and chatting. He'd pretty much done his shopping and was waiting for his fish to finish steaming back in the seafood department. Mine was pretty much done too, and after a hand squeeze, I headed off to check out and he began the journey back to the seafood department. I made it to my car, but Nick didn't get back to seafood. Somewhere along the way, he slipped and fell. At the hospital, he was put directly in ICU. No visitors other than family. And a couple of days later, he died.

The funeral was standing room only, with people backed up into the hallways. His brothers and his son got up to talk about Nick. There were some tears, but most people seemed to look at this as a celebration for someone we all knew and liked so much... Nick was Nick right up to the end, with a smile and story about his son or musings on how the Steelers might do this year or just what a good deal that buy one get one free deal on bagels was.

I'm going to miss you, Nick. In my doorway at work. In the hall by the water fountain. In the produce section near the apples and oranges. There's a hole in the fabric of my everyday life that's going to take a while to mend.