Can I Bedazzle A Broomstick?

So apparently I am going to be a witch on Halloween... kinda funny considering I have never really been one to do anything on this particular day, much less let my kids wear masks and terrorize the neighborhood. It's either this southern air or old age, I can't decide which. Last year I startled my three young-uns by actually carving a pumpkin. Re-reading that entry from almost a year ago made me laugh to myself. It's funny how things can change. It looks like this year everyone is getting involved with the exception of the husband.

Just tonight the oldest purchased himself some kind of freaky mask (and no, I didn't even ask to see it... the boy is old enough to drive, old enough to work, old enough to buy his own Halloween goodies... he doesn't need his mom shaking her head in disgust which is something I would most likely do). Anyway, he did his thing at a local trunk-or-treat event. On Monday night the middle will be doing his thing as well, although I think he's playing it safe and holy as a disciple of Jesus. The youngest and I will be joining some friends to participate in another trunk-or-treat event and then... (are you ready for this, Mom?)... we are taking her trick-or-treating.

That girl is certain I have lost my mind.
But she's willing to risk my sanity for the sake of a plastic pumpkin full of candy.
Ahhh... the devotion and love of a thirteen-year old.

So a witch I will be. I can't decide if I want to bedazzle my hat with gemstones or cover it with flowers and feathers. I mean, come on... this is a pretty big deal around the old homestead. Such a thing might not happen again. If I'm gonna dress up like a witch, I want to be a memorable one. No green faces or funky warts for me. We want to make this one count.

Pictures For My Mom

Sometimes I like to take pictures for my mom just because I know she will like it. Lucky for you (or not, depending on your perspective) you get to see them, too. You should know, however, that everything you see is a direct result of my mom's influence on me.

Although the one of cat she'll gladly give credit to my dad. And the last one with the fire pit? Well, she may not be too keen on hanging out there, but I know she'll love the chairs.

Sure do love and miss you, Mom and Dad.



Anybody Want A Cat? (just don't tell my daughter)

I've got a cat who won't stay out of the bathtub, a couch full of laundry to fold, and a heart that is heavy. Not a great way to start a Tuesday, but a Tuesday that has been started nonetheless.

Our little cat thinks she's a dog. She plays fetch, acts like she wants to drink out of the toilet, and torments the bigger cat day and night. Even as I write this, those two are chasing each other around the recliner and bouncing off the walls. They are driving me nuts.

Laundry is just laundry. I got a late start on it yesterday and will be paying that price today. Anytime I want to grumble too much, though, I just remind myself that at least I'm not beating our clothes against a rock by the creek. I love my Downey fresh clothes.

And as far as my heavy heart, I'll just leave it at that. Only the Lord knows, and only He can do anything about it. I am really growing weary of this making me stronger stuff.

Please Tell Me You Can Relate

I've been thinking about my friends back home. It seems our communication is becoming less and less. I wonder if that is normal... I suppose it's just a good reminder that life goes on. I know several of them keep up with this blog so I know they know what's going in my world; I just miss knowing what's going on in their world. Does that make me nosy? I don't think so. I just genuinely miss my friends.

Life does go on. I spent a little part of today walking with a friend that I would have never known if we had not moved. Believe me, I would be missing out (and just because I think she reads this blog sometimes in no way implies that I am kissing up). Ha! It's just good to know that when a chapter closes on one portion of our life, another one is waiting to be started.

I guess I'm in a sappy sort of mood, you could say. Today while sitting in church in a pew behind our kids, I watched as one of them discreetly slipped their hand into a wallet to contribute to the offering plate (or bag, in this case). That random act tugged at my heart a little bit. I've always said that if I get nothing else right in this world, I want our kids to honor the Lord in all that they do. It's a tough road out there.

And then there was supper tonight. May I say it was awesome? I grilled out, loaded the table with good stuff, and then just basked in the compliments afterward. Yeah. I'm shameless like that. I'm also an easy one to figure out. Shower the mom with praise and she'll offer to do the dishes. Walking into a clean house doesn't hurt either. Remember, I'm not opposed to the occasional bribe.

I hear the clinking of weights in the next room and the sound of brothers talking. How short our days are becoming! The older they get, the more I'm reminded of how this particular chapter in the life of our family will quickly transition into something else. And then there's our girl. My, oh my. My little girl trying so hard to grow up... makes me want to grab the kleenex even as I write.

So, yes... it is indeed a sappy kind of night.
Nothing is bad, nothing is wrong.
In a way everything is just right.

And that makes me want to smile and cry all at the same time.

Where I Live...

We have fairs in the fall.

State fairs. County fairs. Any good excuse for a fair.

Like anywhere else, there's overpriced food...

...that is impossible to pass up.

And there's the games that are almost impossible to win.

All kinds of trinkets to woo the money of the young and old.

Yep. We spent too much money on admission and tickets and those pesky funnel cakes, but boy, did we have a good time. Some things in life are just worth that extra buck.



Better Than A Pin-Up Girl

Sometimes it doesn't take much to make me laugh. While watching tv this evening (a whole hour of The Rifleman) I looked over at my husband stretched out in his recliner. He was holding a book sideways with an intense look on his face that was a mixture of both joy and anticipation. It reminded me of what a man might look like if he was checking out the latest centerfold or something... only what he was holding was no bunny-of-the-month club issue. It was a Ford manual with detailed schematics and other fun stuff for his old truck.

Yep, we might be kinda boring around here, but at least we keep it clean. =)

A Rite Of Passage

Today was a sad day for the oldest. After supper, we sat at the table together, just him and me. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. He sighed heavily. He dug in his pockets. He sighed once more... then he handed it over. His first insurance payment for his truck. Happy day for me. Sad day for him. Do you know what all I could do with that money? he asked. Only all too well, was my response. Now don't get me wrong, his attitude was awesome. He knew this day was coming and even had it marked on the calendar. I had told him he could break it up through the month, but as he said, One way or the other, it's still gonna be the same amount. So he relinquished the funds to be applied to our insurance bill and then started talking about taxes. He showed me his pay stub and asked if everything looked all right.

Yep, I assured him. Welcome to the working man's world.

Apparently him and his brother (that would be the middle) have been solving our nation's debt problem while sitting in the drive-thru line. They did some quick calculations based on the tax they were being charged on their dollar menu burgers, multiplied that by the people living in our country, and determined that even if everyone only purchased dollar menu stuff on a daily basis, that should still be enough to run the country. Now I hope you're not grabbing a note pad and a calculator to de-bunk their theory... the fact they were even thinking that way made me laugh. They are so their dad. We swapped a little tax trivia regarding the early years of America, discussed typical household bills, and reminded the youngest once again why she's not getting a cell phone.

He left to help the middle wash the dishes. The youngest left to feed the dog. And I was left with his money feeling half-guilty for taking it and half-relieved for having it, but I also felt a twinge of pride in there. Pride for a boy who's not a boy anymore. He's learning how to hold down a job, budget his money, and pay his own way. He appreciates help when it's available, but doesn't expect it. He understands that sometimes walking out of Radio Shack empty-handed is necessary if he wants to have gas money at the end of the week (and believe me, the boy loves Radio Shack). He's learning... even if it is a little sad at times.

Nobody likes to say goodbye to their cash.

About That Last Post...

After receiving a few questions pertaining to the arrival of our surprise weekend guest, I thought I would address the matter in a simple and direct fashion:

We have heard both sides and neither side is pretty.
She is going back to her own home today.
And I don't think we've seen the last of her.

God's got a plan and I've got laundry to do.

Happy Monday! =)

If You Can Figure This One Out, Feel Free To Let Me Know

So.... say you're sixteen and have a fight with your mom and dad. The end result is the stunning declaration that you are no longer welcome in the home (although maybe not so stunning because this is not the first time). You spend the evening working your after-school job not knowing where you will sleep. Even though you've been through this before, you don't know what you'll do.  And I say again... you're sixteen.

I just don't get it. I know I went a few rounds with my own parents back in the day. I'm sure I upset them on more than one occasion, but I don't recall ever being told that I couldn't come home. I don't even pretend to know all the circumstances in this current situation. Everybody's got a side and a story to tell and someone to blame, but can I just reiterate again... sixteen.

And a girl at that.

We all know the world is a scary place, right? I can't imagine being without a home or not knowing where I might spend the night, and I'm a long way from sixteen. I don't know how I would react to finding myself in a strange home with a strange lady (such as myself) who pulls out faded fuzzy pajama pants and a much too big t-shirt and triumphantly produces a never-been-used toothbrush.

I don't get a lot of things in life. I am most certainly at a loss for this. My husband understands all too well; I just shake my head in disbelief. I thought for sure there was a catch to this, maybe a massive misunderstanding or words spoken in haste. The mother in me is just completely dumbfounded. Even our kids are little bit stumped on this one, but they are all very excited about one simple thing: if there's a guest in the house, then a mom making breakfast in the morning is a sure-fire thing.

And that's proof there's hope in any situation.

Banana Bread For Bed

I gotta say, I love evenings like this one. It's a little drizzly out (if that's even a word), it's been dark for a while now, and I'm already in my pajamas. We had a fend-for-yourself night for supper, but I redeemed myself by baking a couple of loaves of banana bread. I do believe that's the only reason my family likes bananas anyway... they wait for them to turn dark and mushy and for me to say, Well, if you're not going to eat those things I guess I'm going to have to bake bread. I swear it's a conspiracy.

The oldest is watching a documentary on the War of 1812. I love it when the kids watch this stuff not thinking much about it and then share later how much they remembered from it in history class or while taking a quiz or test. The best way to make a kid to learn is to not let them know they are learning. Seriously, though, history is fascinating when presented right. Speaking of which... I start the first of my three final classes next week and, joy of all joys, there is no textbook required. Whew. I'll take that book money and go buy me some new cowboy boots.

Or pay the electric bill. Rats. No boots for me.

The oldest just looked at me and smiled. Pretty fascinating, huh? I ask, referring to the television. He nods his head, totally engrossed in the story. I'm telling you...burning cities, death in the streets, savage amputations... I know he'll end his night with a video game marathon, but truth is always more fascinating than fiction. Tuesday night entertainment at its finest. And now Francis Scott Key is watching the Battle of Ft. McHenry. I might have to jump up in song. We did just hang a new flag outside today, you know. Wonder what the family would think if I told them to join me in the National Anthem.

Yeah. That would be a resounding No!
But it would be fun just to see the look on their faces.
I oughta get something for baking that bread.

Wanted: A Good Job For A Good Man

Once again I find myself sitting across the table from my husband (reminds me of this time not long ago). His pen is poised in mid-air, his brow is wrinkled as he thinks. Every now and then he sighs heavily and looks at me, trying his best to smile. I watch as he tries to think of the right words. I look up stuff on my laptop when he asks. I've made copies of diplomas and discharge papers and social security cards and anything else that might pop up. And all I can think is, Please, Lord. Let this be the one.

Have you guessed it yet?
Another job application.

He's not afraid of anything. The only thing that worries him is his age. Not gettin' any younger, he says. Maybe not, but you sure are getting better, I reply. That makes him smile for real. Is there any man that doesn't want to be the stud-kinda-hero to his wife? He's talking to a friend of his now on the phone. A good guy he wants to use as a reference. He won't write anybody's name down who he doesn't call to let them know. This is probably about the fourth time he's called this particular guy. I can almost hear the questions the other guy is asking.

How ya doing anyway?
Not too bad.
No luck with a job yet?
No, but I'm still looking.
You holding up okay, though?
Heck, yeah. I've lost weight and my blood pressure is down.

That's the truth, too. Since he got out of that cubicle, he's lost a good fifteen pounds or so and may very well be off his blood pressure meds within the next month. He's less stressed, honestly does smile more... just that absence of a steady paycheck that's the kicker.

His phone call is over.
His pen is back in hand.

Hey, honey? Find me Bob's phone number, will ya?

Please, Lord. Let this be the one.

Dear UPS Guy,

Banging on a glass door when it's dark outside and then (twice) not answering to "Who's there?" (when the windows are open so we know you can hear) is probably not the smartest thing you've done today. I mean, and this is just a FYI, only about two inches of wood and the aforementioned pane of glass separated you and what could have potentially been a very bad ending to an otherwise pleasant night. You see, that's why we have a well-lit porch and a working doorbell and a helpful peephole-thingy that let's us see someone standing directly in front of it (off to the side doesn't count). I know you're just doing your job. This is nothing against you. I love your brown truck and your brown shorts and the awesome stuff you deliver. I don't even mind when you block my driveway so you can ask me for directions on our very messed up street. I get it.

It was late tonight, though. I'm betting you were in a hurry and probably had your wife or girlfriend or mother calling you nonstop telling you dinner was on the table (I get a little impatient myself when the family is slow to gather at the table). I'm sure you didn't realize how LOUD a fist knocking on glass repeatedly might be or how unsettling it was when no one responded. Heck, you probably haven't even had the time to watch the news about home invasions or recent robberies or what was discovered floating in the river (okay... slight exaggeration on my part). You're a busy man. Anyway, the package you delivered was just what I had been waiting for all day. If my heart hadn't been pounding out of my chest watching my husband prepare to defend our home, I probably would have given you a big smile.

As Caroline Ingalls always said, "All's well that ends well."
I'll make sure to bake you an extra batch of cookies for Christmas.
And give you some doorbell-ringing lessons as an added bonus.

H + A = 4ever

At least it better.
I have no desire to start over again.
Someone else might make me work.

My BFF comes back today. Thank the Lord. Two weeks gone is two weeks too long and no... I really don't care if you think I'm too needy or too dependent or too whatever. The only downside, however, is that now I have to restock the fridge. The kids and I have survived on few necessities: milk, cereal, toaster strudels, and gatorade.... that a whole lot of dollar menu fast food. Oh well. All good things must come to an end. I'm gonna straighten the house, make a pitcher of sweet tea, and head to the grocery store.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That was this morning and I pretty much accomplished everything except for the pitcher of sweet tea. He'll survive, though... it's all good as long as there's Coca-Cola in the house. I'm also thinking that it's a good sign that after almost nineteen years of being with the same man, I still felt the need to change my outfit a total of five times, curl my hair no less than three times, and have been in full make-up since around two o'clock. Every time a truck goes by my drive-way, I jump up to see if it's him.

And he just called.
Twenty minutes out.
That gives me time for one more outfit change.

At Least My Hair's Not In Curlers

It's almost 1:30 in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas. Why? Because I can, I guess. Days like this don't happen that often, but my bed is not made, the dishes are not washed, and if I don't get ready soon, my kids will be subjected to the sight of their mother in her robe maneuvering the mini-van in after-school traffic. Yeah... we probably want to avoid that kind of trauma.

The culprit for the state of mind I am in would be a very good book and very boring schoolwork. The book demanded to be finished and the schoolwork had to be done. Then there's my back porch with the comfy lounge chair and the sound of trickling water and two lazy cats enjoying the breeze. It's hard to be motivated when you're surrounded by so much laziness.

I mean, come on... it's not like I sleep late and watch soap operas (much) and indulge in bon-bons on a daily basis. I write and read and write some more. I drink coffee and sip root beer and eat left-over pizza. I pull weeds and play with the dog and stare at the neighbors. If you saw me now, though, you would definitely be thinking to yourself, "What a bum." Okay, okay. Today I might have to agree with that.

But don't we all need an occasional day like this?
And for the sake of my sanity, just nod your head and agree for once.
I promise to lose my flowery pj's before I leave the house.

This Little Light Of Mine

I sit this morning and think about the people that pop in and out of my life. There one day, gone the next. In a virtual world (and I promise I am not going to get hung up on this), it is so easy for any one person to be your friend or follower for any length of time and then suddenly disappear with zero to little explanation. The same thing can happen with friends in the real world. People simply lose track of each other. The whole thing brings to mind a verse out of Psalms (144:4):

 Man is like a breath; His days are like a passing shadow.

I remember an illustration I once gave to a junior high class. I stood in front of a group of 7/8th graders, lit a match, and blew it out. I drew their attention to the wisps of smoke that escaped from the extinguished burnt end... thick at first, but then slowly drifting and trailing away to nothing until all that was left was the faint smell of smoke in the air. I then proceeded to tell them that was a picture of their life.

Yeah. I am one ray of sunshine in the classroom.

Life is so fleeting, though, isn't it? We never know what the next turn will bring and we never fully understand why we had to make that turn to begin with. I loved my grandma like crazy, you all know that. I talk about her often and hope I never stop, but the simple fact remains that she is no longer here. Her time, her purpose, her existence on this earth came and went with the passing of eighty-nine years. She closed her eyes in this world and opened them in the next.

Oh, where would we be without that hope?

I think about my life. Am I fulfilling my role or simply going through the motions while the match stays lit, so to speak. Do I pop in and out of people's lives without making a mark, without leaving anything behind besides the smell of a burnt match? Am I easily forgettable or am I like a nagging pain in someone's head that they can't easily get rid of? Yeah, that thought makes me chuckle this early in the morning, but I have to say that I would rather be a pain than forgotten.

Wow. I do wonder where the thoughts in my head come from at times.

I want to be a good wife and mother and all that goes with that, but I also want to be a good friend and a mentor and somebody that makes you think. I want to me that person that points the way to the Lord, not because I wear a Jesus shirt or a Jesus pin or thump you over the head with my bible. I want you to know that without Him, I would be nothing. He saved me when I didn't deserve it; He led me when I wouldn't listen; and He holds my hand when I cry.

He's the light on the end of my match except His flame never goes out.

It just moves on to light the next one when my match burns out.

Kinda like passing the torch forward, huh?

How's That Working For You?

So the thought occurred to me that if I'm no longer on facebook, the access that I have to a couple of sweet little babies living far away from me will become severely limited. We just can't have that. I guess you can say I was four days clean. What can I say? I miss seeing my mom saying "Cheers" with her teacup. I miss seeing my brother holding up his now-too-big pants. And I miss catching little two-minute videos of those sweet little babies rolling over or trying to walk or just looking plain cute. Plus, my daughter said she missed seeing me on there. Enough said. I guess I'm not as done with the virtual world as I thought I was. Live and learn.

And don't post it publicly.

Making The Best Of It

Many, many miles away today was a small town autumn festival that I would have loved to attended. The oldest and I tossed around the idea of driving in for the weekend, but then (wisely) decided that a twenty-eight hour round trip was a little foolish for a forty-eight hour weekend. Plane tickets just made all of us laugh... $700 a pop per person. Flying last minute simply is not an option. Needless to say, we stayed put and pretty much enjoyed a Saturday nonetheless.

He (the oldest) had a quick lesson in using jumper cables early in the morning. His grandpa talked him through everything via their cell phones and it was quickly determined that the battery was junk. It took him a few hours, but he made the trip to the part store, got the right battery for his truck, and had it fired up and running with only a few glitches in between. It is still hard for me to believe that my firstborn is practically eighteen. He really is quite impressive.

The middle is fighting allergies that he thought he had left behind somewhere in the Midwest. That boy would suffer horribly every spring and fall without fail. He would miss school in the beginning and then again at the end. Nothing would completely help him except the passing of time. Then we moved south and those allergies disappeared. He commented today that he thought they had finally caught up with him. If anything, it's minor compared to what he had before, but still a nuisance. He's a trooper, though.

My youngest helped with a spur-of-the-moment, mini get-together tonight. We had a few friends over for a strictly female gathering and fixed things like cucumber sandwiches and little clubhouse-style bars (basically rolled out croissant dough with chicken on top). That girl and I will either have a great time together or a strained,  Mom, You Are So Weird time. I tried to dance with her to George Strait and she looked at me like I had lost my mind (although between you and me, I think she secretly loved it).

Oh, I wish I could have been walking those crowded festival streets with my mom halfway across the country today, but if I have learned anything, it's that life really is what we make of it. It does me absolutely no good to dwell on how things use to be if I can't enjoy the here and now. I really have nothing to complain about.

Except the job thing.
Yeah, I'm still waiting on that.
Somewhere there's a classroom that is waiting on me.

Please, Lord. Please and Thank You.