Look around you and see!
And be astonished! Astounded!
For I am putting into effect a work in your days such that
you would not believe it if it were told you.
*Habakkuk 1:5*
Some days we just need those reminders, don't we?
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
My Dream Baby
So if I dreamed that we adopted a teeny, tiny little baby girl that we found, what does that mean? That I long to have another baby? I don't think so. Maybe something new is coming along in our life? I would like that. Whatever it meant, I was at Walmart with this teeny, tiny little bundle in one arm while putting diapers and formula and bottles into a cart. There was not any discussion about what we should do (unlike the previous storm entry). It was simply the husband saying, Look. A little baby and nobody wants her. And me saying, Hand her over.
Of course, it could have also been the pepperoni pizza and the chocolate pie and coffee I had around eight o'clock last night, but if that's the case, I think I'll have the same thing again tonight. I just love little babies... even if they're only in my dreams.
Of course, it could have also been the pepperoni pizza and the chocolate pie and coffee I had around eight o'clock last night, but if that's the case, I think I'll have the same thing again tonight. I just love little babies... even if they're only in my dreams.
 |
Add one more baby to the pile and you'd have the whole crew. Late Autumn, 1996. |
Friday, February 24, 2012
Didn't The Wicked Witch Of The East Die Under A House?
Not that I consider myself wicked or a witch, mind you, I just remember those shoes of hers sticking out from under Dorothy's house.
Here's my dilema in the midst of a severe thunderstorm... would I rather be crushed or trapped under the house (my words) or sucked out through the top of the house (my husband's words)? We have this discussion every time a storm blows through and today one hit just after lunch time. The husband had his shoes on ready to go under the house while I eyed the computer desk thinking that's where I'd hang out- underneath it, of course. Now before you ready to tell me what you think, let me describe the situation.
We don't have a basement, but you can walk under the house and for at least half of it, stand up straight (and it is closed in, just so you know). It's all sand underneath with lots and lots of storage space. On the flip side, the computer desk sits in the middle of the house next to a stone fireplace and no windows in sight. The root of this dilemma is that I have a very profound fear of being trapped somewhere, plus I'm a little bit claustrophobic. I can ride an elevator, but I hate every second of the ride. I can go in a cave, but I don't enjoy any of it. We all have our little quirks, right?
Anyway, we kept an eye on the sky and the radar and ended up never leaving the living room. We were on the north end of the storm (that did end up spawning a tornado, by the way) and by the time it roared through, all we had were some limbs on the ground and a shed door blown in. The discussion over where to hide out, though, continued on. So, other than praying and believing Psalm 91, where would you go?
Here's my dilema in the midst of a severe thunderstorm... would I rather be crushed or trapped under the house (my words) or sucked out through the top of the house (my husband's words)? We have this discussion every time a storm blows through and today one hit just after lunch time. The husband had his shoes on ready to go under the house while I eyed the computer desk thinking that's where I'd hang out- underneath it, of course. Now before you ready to tell me what you think, let me describe the situation.
We don't have a basement, but you can walk under the house and for at least half of it, stand up straight (and it is closed in, just so you know). It's all sand underneath with lots and lots of storage space. On the flip side, the computer desk sits in the middle of the house next to a stone fireplace and no windows in sight. The root of this dilemma is that I have a very profound fear of being trapped somewhere, plus I'm a little bit claustrophobic. I can ride an elevator, but I hate every second of the ride. I can go in a cave, but I don't enjoy any of it. We all have our little quirks, right?
Anyway, we kept an eye on the sky and the radar and ended up never leaving the living room. We were on the north end of the storm (that did end up spawning a tornado, by the way) and by the time it roared through, all we had were some limbs on the ground and a shed door blown in. The discussion over where to hide out, though, continued on. So, other than praying and believing Psalm 91, where would you go?
Monday, February 20, 2012
The Ask Angela Column (Even If You Really Don't Want To Know)
While drinking a cup of Millstone's Foglifter coffee, I have determined that it's the kind of coffee that lifts no fog. Maybe it's just the fact that it was given such a bold name... surely nothing could live up to that. Even so, it's got the tiniest touch of a bitter aftertaste and that always ruins it for me. I'll finish what I have, but will not venture down the Foglifter path again. This is why I always have on hand a few other choices to balance out the not-so-great cup with an awesome one (referring to k-cups and a Keurig here). Every time I think I have a favorite, a new one comes along. For this go 'round, Tulley's Extra Bold Breakfast Blend takes the cake. It's right up there with my other top picks: Van Houtte's Mexico, Starbucks' French Roast Dark, and Folgers Black Silk. One thing is for certain, you ever stop by my house in the morning, you're guaranteed a good cup of coffee (unless you like that weak stuff... I could always water it down for you, but honestly, I don't think we'd have much in common).
Today all three kids are home from school in honor of Presidents' Day and like most kids, they don't care why they have the day off as long as they have the day off. Funny how we have little kids color pictures of Washington and Lincoln and tell the usual feel-good stories about these men and that's about as far as it ever gets. Now I'm not bashing either guy, but like anyone else, there's always more to the story than what the generic history book records. Truth is more fascinating than fiction, you know. Washington has been recorded as growing marijuana for the value of the hemp and the good of the soil (so they say) and Lincoln's ambitions leaned more to what was popular in the political realm rather than the rising demand for equality (doesn't every politician go for the vote?). This is why I like to combine biographies with the history of any particular person or event. You gotta have more than one perspective, people.
Yesterday we went and saw the second Sherlock Holmes movie. For our tight-budgeted family (aka cheap), we like to wait till a movie hits the dollar theatre ($1.99, that is) and hit the Dollar Tree that's conveniently located close by. Between the tickets, the candy, and the nachos I cannot watch any movie without, four of us can have a good time for $20.00. Notice I said four of us... it's getting to where the five of us are rarely together except for when we sit around the dinner table at home. Anyway, even a trip to the dollar theatre is a treat (we don't do it that often) and not counting the five women who came in late and made it a point to squish in beside us with their oversized pocketbooks and long umbrellas (did they not see the ROWS of empty seats in front of us?)... well, we still enjoyed the whole experience. Along with the first movie, I would highly recommend this second one.
I look back over this post and laugh to myself. Let's see...
I've reviewed several kinds of coffee, two presidents, and a movie.
All this expertise and no job. Ha! I'm on to my second cup.
Happy Monday! =)
Today all three kids are home from school in honor of Presidents' Day and like most kids, they don't care why they have the day off as long as they have the day off. Funny how we have little kids color pictures of Washington and Lincoln and tell the usual feel-good stories about these men and that's about as far as it ever gets. Now I'm not bashing either guy, but like anyone else, there's always more to the story than what the generic history book records. Truth is more fascinating than fiction, you know. Washington has been recorded as growing marijuana for the value of the hemp and the good of the soil (so they say) and Lincoln's ambitions leaned more to what was popular in the political realm rather than the rising demand for equality (doesn't every politician go for the vote?). This is why I like to combine biographies with the history of any particular person or event. You gotta have more than one perspective, people.
Yesterday we went and saw the second Sherlock Holmes movie. For our tight-budgeted family (aka cheap), we like to wait till a movie hits the dollar theatre ($1.99, that is) and hit the Dollar Tree that's conveniently located close by. Between the tickets, the candy, and the nachos I cannot watch any movie without, four of us can have a good time for $20.00. Notice I said four of us... it's getting to where the five of us are rarely together except for when we sit around the dinner table at home. Anyway, even a trip to the dollar theatre is a treat (we don't do it that often) and not counting the five women who came in late and made it a point to squish in beside us with their oversized pocketbooks and long umbrellas (did they not see the ROWS of empty seats in front of us?)... well, we still enjoyed the whole experience. Along with the first movie, I would highly recommend this second one.
I look back over this post and laugh to myself. Let's see...
I've reviewed several kinds of coffee, two presidents, and a movie.
All this expertise and no job. Ha! I'm on to my second cup.
Happy Monday! =)
Friday, February 17, 2012
Sure, That Kid Can Operate A Smartphone, But Does He Know The Sound Of Your Voice Reading A Book?
Two kids just went to the left on bikes.
Two kids just went to the right on skateboards.
As usual, I sat on the porch and watched them all.
It's been pretty decent outside today and that porch has been the scene of most of my schoolwork. I may not understand half of what I'm doing, but the sunshine makes me feel remarkably brilliant. The last few hours have been a nice change from what the first part of the day consisted of... two separate appointments at two different doctor offices. All that waiting and watching and listening left me with only one question in my mind:
Doesn't anybody read books to kids anymore?
The first office was that of a pediatrician. The oldest and I sat directly across from a grandpa-looking fellow and a little girl who had to be around two or three. She giggled. She smiled. She sang the same song over and over (Dora the Explorer's backpack song). And all this was done while she was intently watching the iphone or droid or whatever it was that she had propped up on her lap. A boy of ten or so got up when his mom nudged him repeatedly while his name was being called. He was transfixed by some other kind of tablet-type thing complete with headphones and had to be led out of the room by the cord he was attached to. Not to be outdone by his ultra-cool sound-listening system, a girl across the room was be-bopping her heart out to some tune she was plugged into.
The next stop was a specialist of sorts, so the crowd here was not just limited to kids and their guardians. Even so, the little kids who were there stood pestering the adults they were with non-stop for a chance to use their phones. Moms would sigh heavily and give in while the dads would frown at the sight of junior dropping mama's phone on the tiled floor. A video game system was set up in the corner and although I didn't see kids running to put the virtual smackdown on anybody, I did notice one thing, and it was the same thing that got me thinking in the previous office. Not one book was to be seen.
Sure, there were gossip magazines and the daily newspaper scattered about the waiting rooms. One place had a television going with no sound while another place had a water feature that was so loud it was no wonder there was a constant line for the bathroom. There were no kids' books, though. No little tables with coloring books and colors like I use to see when my own were that little. Just LED-enhanced technology that left almost every person, adult or child, with that eerie glow on their face. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for entertaining the kids while they have to wait. Been there, done that. I guess it just seemed odd to me. Then again, it's been a while since I've been in any kind of waiting room.
I thought about the oldest. There was a time when he wouldn't have went anywhere without a Hot Wheel or two in his pockets. That's all that kid needed... give him something with wheels and a pattern on the carpet; he'd be all set. The middle was a dinosaur or cowboy kind of guy. He leaned more towards action figures of any type; no wheels necessary for him. And the youngest? Baby dolls. A Barbie. Anything she could pamper and love on. Wherever we went, though, I always included a stash of what I considered to be the survival kit of waiting for extended periods with toddlers: a ziplock full of graham crackers and a stash of picture books.
When the Hot Wheels would run out of gas, or the dinosaur was wore out from chasing the cowboy, or the baby doll finally went to sleep, I would pull those squirmy kids on my lap and quietly read them a book. Now that I think about it, I probably just liked having them close and whispering in their ear, but I gotta say, those are some of the best memories for me. Oh, we had our moments, that's for sure, but I am so glad I didn't have a smartphone or a gameboy or some other technological marvel that would have stolen that time from me. Those kids grow up way too fast.
Now they want to ride bikes without me.
I couldn't stay on a skateboard if I tried.
And the front porch is the only place I've got left.
Happy sigh. =)
Two kids just went to the right on skateboards.
As usual, I sat on the porch and watched them all.
It's been pretty decent outside today and that porch has been the scene of most of my schoolwork. I may not understand half of what I'm doing, but the sunshine makes me feel remarkably brilliant. The last few hours have been a nice change from what the first part of the day consisted of... two separate appointments at two different doctor offices. All that waiting and watching and listening left me with only one question in my mind:
Doesn't anybody read books to kids anymore?
The first office was that of a pediatrician. The oldest and I sat directly across from a grandpa-looking fellow and a little girl who had to be around two or three. She giggled. She smiled. She sang the same song over and over (Dora the Explorer's backpack song). And all this was done while she was intently watching the iphone or droid or whatever it was that she had propped up on her lap. A boy of ten or so got up when his mom nudged him repeatedly while his name was being called. He was transfixed by some other kind of tablet-type thing complete with headphones and had to be led out of the room by the cord he was attached to. Not to be outdone by his ultra-cool sound-listening system, a girl across the room was be-bopping her heart out to some tune she was plugged into.
The next stop was a specialist of sorts, so the crowd here was not just limited to kids and their guardians. Even so, the little kids who were there stood pestering the adults they were with non-stop for a chance to use their phones. Moms would sigh heavily and give in while the dads would frown at the sight of junior dropping mama's phone on the tiled floor. A video game system was set up in the corner and although I didn't see kids running to put the virtual smackdown on anybody, I did notice one thing, and it was the same thing that got me thinking in the previous office. Not one book was to be seen.
Sure, there were gossip magazines and the daily newspaper scattered about the waiting rooms. One place had a television going with no sound while another place had a water feature that was so loud it was no wonder there was a constant line for the bathroom. There were no kids' books, though. No little tables with coloring books and colors like I use to see when my own were that little. Just LED-enhanced technology that left almost every person, adult or child, with that eerie glow on their face. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for entertaining the kids while they have to wait. Been there, done that. I guess it just seemed odd to me. Then again, it's been a while since I've been in any kind of waiting room.
I thought about the oldest. There was a time when he wouldn't have went anywhere without a Hot Wheel or two in his pockets. That's all that kid needed... give him something with wheels and a pattern on the carpet; he'd be all set. The middle was a dinosaur or cowboy kind of guy. He leaned more towards action figures of any type; no wheels necessary for him. And the youngest? Baby dolls. A Barbie. Anything she could pamper and love on. Wherever we went, though, I always included a stash of what I considered to be the survival kit of waiting for extended periods with toddlers: a ziplock full of graham crackers and a stash of picture books.
When the Hot Wheels would run out of gas, or the dinosaur was wore out from chasing the cowboy, or the baby doll finally went to sleep, I would pull those squirmy kids on my lap and quietly read them a book. Now that I think about it, I probably just liked having them close and whispering in their ear, but I gotta say, those are some of the best memories for me. Oh, we had our moments, that's for sure, but I am so glad I didn't have a smartphone or a gameboy or some other technological marvel that would have stolen that time from me. Those kids grow up way too fast.
Now they want to ride bikes without me.
I couldn't stay on a skateboard if I tried.
And the front porch is the only place I've got left.
Happy sigh. =)
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
What Valentine's Day Is Not...
a dozen roses.
a box of chocolates.
a mass-produced card.
a set of diamond earrings.
a heart-shaped balloon attached to a teddy bear.
Sure, all that stuff is sweet and makes us feel all tingly and special on the inside, but what about the other days of the year? I'm thinking about all those flat tires and mandatory oil changes and clogged drains and the hideous spider on the wall that the man in my life takes care of so I don't have to. Or the time a mouse was in our bedroom and the husband stuffed towel barriers under the doors and chased that little rodent with a broom until he triumphantly removed it (much to my delight) in the middle of the night. He battled slimy slugs in one house, got ambushed by smelly ladybugs trapped in a vent in another house. He's changed out fifty-year old sewer pipes and more nasty toilets than I can count on two hands. He put in a ventless gas log system because wood smoke makes my eyes burn. He tinted my car windows so I wouldn't be so hot in the southern heat.
Yes, he's given me all the above Valentine paraphernalia at one time or another in our nineteen years (minus the balloon and teddy bear combo; he's just not that kind of man). He surprises me with unexpected gifts every now and then (like my pink bike from last year), but most of the time, it's just those day-to-day tasks that remind me I am the special one in his life. You can't buy that feeling on any Walmart shelf. This year, however, I think my daughter must have got a hold of him because he presented me with flowers on Sunday, a card on Monday, and a pair of earrings Today. He got a hold of her right back, though, when she found a card with her name on it propped up on the computer desk this morning. You want to make any teenage girl feel special? Give her a card that unfolds to a big heart and signed by her daddy. I don't know what he wrote in there, but by the smile on her face... well, that man did good. Real good.
People either love Valentine's Day or they hate it. They either know the history of it or they don't. Doesn't really matter to me. Those flowers wilt and get tossed; the chocolate becomes something we have to battle later on. That spider, though? He knows not the day on the calendar.
I'm counting on my valentine to be prepared all year long.
a box of chocolates.
a mass-produced card.
a set of diamond earrings.
a heart-shaped balloon attached to a teddy bear.
Sure, all that stuff is sweet and makes us feel all tingly and special on the inside, but what about the other days of the year? I'm thinking about all those flat tires and mandatory oil changes and clogged drains and the hideous spider on the wall that the man in my life takes care of so I don't have to. Or the time a mouse was in our bedroom and the husband stuffed towel barriers under the doors and chased that little rodent with a broom until he triumphantly removed it (much to my delight) in the middle of the night. He battled slimy slugs in one house, got ambushed by smelly ladybugs trapped in a vent in another house. He's changed out fifty-year old sewer pipes and more nasty toilets than I can count on two hands. He put in a ventless gas log system because wood smoke makes my eyes burn. He tinted my car windows so I wouldn't be so hot in the southern heat.
Yes, he's given me all the above Valentine paraphernalia at one time or another in our nineteen years (minus the balloon and teddy bear combo; he's just not that kind of man). He surprises me with unexpected gifts every now and then (like my pink bike from last year), but most of the time, it's just those day-to-day tasks that remind me I am the special one in his life. You can't buy that feeling on any Walmart shelf. This year, however, I think my daughter must have got a hold of him because he presented me with flowers on Sunday, a card on Monday, and a pair of earrings Today. He got a hold of her right back, though, when she found a card with her name on it propped up on the computer desk this morning. You want to make any teenage girl feel special? Give her a card that unfolds to a big heart and signed by her daddy. I don't know what he wrote in there, but by the smile on her face... well, that man did good. Real good.
People either love Valentine's Day or they hate it. They either know the history of it or they don't. Doesn't really matter to me. Those flowers wilt and get tossed; the chocolate becomes something we have to battle later on. That spider, though? He knows not the day on the calendar.
I'm counting on my valentine to be prepared all year long.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
It's Okay. I've Got Kids To Set Me Straight.
If everyone in the world threw their problems into one big pile,
you'd be surprised how quickly you would grab yours back.
Thus said the middle as we sat around the table discussing whether or not I am in the midst of a midlife crisis. The youngest had embarked on her list of reasons of why I should not complain: I am not homeless. I am not a starving child in Africa. I do not have to beg for money to buy food. I am not in an abusive marriage. I am healthy. I have a car to drive. I have a friend. I have Jesus in my heart. And, my personal favorite, not every woman in the world is as lucky to have a daughter like her.
Okay, okay. I get their point. I was just so down the other day. I really thought I had a good lead on a job that was meant to be mine. When it wasn't and I was back home folding laundry that has jumped multiple sizes in the last five years... well, I don't know what to say. When that cloud overcomes me, it's just so darn easy to forget all the good that has happened and is still happening all around me.
Good grief. Maybe I don't want to work anyway. The Lord knows I love the whole homemaking thing. I mean, I wear an apron when I cook and a bandana over my hair when I clean. I like to stand on the front porch when the kids leave for school and sit on that same porch when they get home. But if I don't work, then what's the point of that degree that I'm TEN weeks away from getting?
Speaking of which, I priced planed tickets for the husband and I to fly out on the appointed day in May so I could walk across the stage to receive that hard-sought after piece of paper. Almost $800 not counting a rental car, hotel, and food. Well, I can live without that, but you better believe I'm going to plan a party. Maybe I'll combine that with the graduation of the oldest, but a par-tay it shall be.
Speaking of which, I priced planed tickets for the husband and I to fly out on the appointed day in May so I could walk across the stage to receive that hard-sought after piece of paper. Almost $800 not counting a rental car, hotel, and food. Well, I can live without that, but you better believe I'm going to plan a party. Maybe I'll combine that with the graduation of the oldest, but a par-tay it shall be.
Now I listen as the youngest sits and marks days on her calendar:
Seventy-one days till school's out (depressing sigh).
You mean I have to get up early on my first day of summer vacation (indignant sigh).
I'm going to be fourteen this year, Mom (happy sigh).
She talks about eighth grade dances and clothes and sings non-stop. The middle pulls his hair in a ponytail and tries on knee pads and elbow pads and sports a new helmet. We are the only ones at the table while the other two men of the house fight virtual battles on separate computers. One black cat peaks at me over the top of the dining room table. Another gray cat slinks his way to the food bowl. It's all quite comical and sad and twisted when you think about it... the way I mourn what I don't have and miss what is right in front of my face.
He's right. I would gladly grab my problems back because somehow, they don't seem like problems anymore. Sheesh. Who needs therapy when I've got teenagers to set my world straight. Crazy kids. It almost makes me tear up now thinking of all those endless books I read to them when they were little or all those cookies and cups of milk I served in those early years. All that banging of the pots and pans and wooden spoons on the floor of the kitchen while I cooked just to have them near. The countless hours of rocking in a chair and singing the same lullabyes just to soothe their troubles.
Who knew I was pouring all that into them so they could later pour into me.
I'm telling you, that's a revelation in itself. I might have to think on that some more.
Besides, two kids have left the table and two men have arisen from their virtual sleep.
God had that timed out right. ;)
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Mama's In A Mood
Well, I finished reading The Help and subjected the husband to the movie tonight. All in all, not bad (the book totally rocked the movie, though). I did not like how either one ended and if I knew they wouldn't butcher it, I'd love to see READ a sequel. Next up on my nook is Incredibly Loud and Extremely Close (or maybe it's the other way around), but I have a world literature class starting next week. With three textbooks due to arrive by Wednesday, I'm thinking my nook may end up taking a long nap. I hate to start something and then have to stop halfway through. I tend to forget what was going on to begin with.
Yesterday was a lousy day. I started an entry late last night, but lost count of how many times I included the word cried... and that was just in the first paragraph. I figure everybody has their own issues without reading mine, so I just made use of that handy delete button. Suffice it to say, there are times when I loathe the day I waved the white flag and gave into the husband's plea to move nine hundred miles away from my family, my job, and my life. It's probably a good thing we don't get re-do's in life. I can think of something else I would've done with that little white flag (and it wouldn't have been waving it in surrender).
Yeah. I am in just one peachy mood.
But God has a plan... right?
Yesterday was a lousy day. I started an entry late last night, but lost count of how many times I included the word cried... and that was just in the first paragraph. I figure everybody has their own issues without reading mine, so I just made use of that handy delete button. Suffice it to say, there are times when I loathe the day I waved the white flag and gave into the husband's plea to move nine hundred miles away from my family, my job, and my life. It's probably a good thing we don't get re-do's in life. I can think of something else I would've done with that little white flag (and it wouldn't have been waving it in surrender).
Yeah. I am in just one peachy mood.
But God has a plan... right?
What, what would have become of me had I not believed
that I would see the Lord's goodness in the land of the living!
Wait and hope for and expect the Lord;
be brave and of good courage
and let your heart be stout and enduring.
Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord.
Psalm 27:13-14, Amplified.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Reading Makes Me Happy
The Rifleman is on. Supper is over.
And my boy's not back from his bike ride yet.
Does the child not know it's dark outside?
Scratch that. I hear his truck pulling in now. One of his favorite things to do is to throw his bike into the back, meet up with a friend, and find a long path that leads to nowhere. And okay, now that I've opened the door I can see that it's not actually dark yet. Guess I'll save that lecture for another day.
I've got the week off from school and have been pleasantly surprised at all the extra time I've had. Sunday night I downloaded a few new books to my nook and have been hooked on The Help since page one. I know it's been out as a movie for some time, but I'm just not much of a movie person. I'd rather read it anyhow. I also got Extremely Close and Incredibly Loud. Yeah, I know it's a movie, too, so don't tell me how either one of them ends. The point is that I'm glad to have the time to be reading again. This is one week I'm going to hate to see come to a close.
Other than that, things have been pretty quiet around the old ponderosa. The weather has been beautiful, although I'm quite certain the flowers are a bit confused. I was raking some today and noticed a few buds on an azalea bush already. The husband has been busy doing some work around the house and the middle is recovering quite well from his accident the other week. All in all, I sit back and look at our quiet and ordinary life and think things are pretty good. Of course, watching Dr. Phil on any given day will make any quiet and ordinary life look pretty good.
As for now, another episode of The Rifleman is coming on.
There's a kitchen waiting on the oldest to eat his dinner and clean up.
And I've got a good book to get back to. You may not hear from me for a while. =)
And my boy's not back from his bike ride yet.
Does the child not know it's dark outside?
Scratch that. I hear his truck pulling in now. One of his favorite things to do is to throw his bike into the back, meet up with a friend, and find a long path that leads to nowhere. And okay, now that I've opened the door I can see that it's not actually dark yet. Guess I'll save that lecture for another day.
I've got the week off from school and have been pleasantly surprised at all the extra time I've had. Sunday night I downloaded a few new books to my nook and have been hooked on The Help since page one. I know it's been out as a movie for some time, but I'm just not much of a movie person. I'd rather read it anyhow. I also got Extremely Close and Incredibly Loud. Yeah, I know it's a movie, too, so don't tell me how either one of them ends. The point is that I'm glad to have the time to be reading again. This is one week I'm going to hate to see come to a close.
Other than that, things have been pretty quiet around the old ponderosa. The weather has been beautiful, although I'm quite certain the flowers are a bit confused. I was raking some today and noticed a few buds on an azalea bush already. The husband has been busy doing some work around the house and the middle is recovering quite well from his accident the other week. All in all, I sit back and look at our quiet and ordinary life and think things are pretty good. Of course, watching Dr. Phil on any given day will make any quiet and ordinary life look pretty good.
As for now, another episode of The Rifleman is coming on.
There's a kitchen waiting on the oldest to eat his dinner and clean up.
And I've got a good book to get back to. You may not hear from me for a while. =)
Friday, February 3, 2012
A Waiter Named Oly And A Good Burrito
The husband and I are creatures of habit when it comes to restaurants. We like to find a place and get to know the people who work there. Just like the Chinese place where they know us and what we are going to order and the nice lady who gives me advice on family drama, we have a favorite Mexican place where the burritos are good and there's one particular guy we like. Last night we went there for dinner and sat outside talking about the life predicament we have found ourselves in. Oly (like in Holy Moly) stopped by our table to visit for a while. By the time he walked away, the husband and I looked at each other with a fresh appreciation for what we have.
Oly is twenty-two years old and speaks pretty good English if you take the time to listen carefully. He has worked at different Mexican restaurants in the area, but seems to like the one he's at now the best. When he's not working there, he mows yards or does other general lawn maintenance type stuff. He was a little bit bummed last night because that line of work has been kind of slow (although he did smile big when he said he had a job to do on Saturday). He said he has been saving his money because he is planning a trip home to Mexico in the next few weeks. If the weather stays good, he's planning on heading out at the end of this month. We asked him where home was. He rattled off a name that both of us were clueless about so he simply said Acapulco.
We asked him how long it would take him to get there. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "A couple of days." The longest part of the journey would be at the border he said to "legalize" his truck. We finally figured out he plans to "register" his truck to leave it with his family. The cost to do so? $800-$1,200 American dollars. The husband asked him why he would do that. Again, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "They need it." Now his truck is nothing new. It happened to be parked right by where we were sitting and truth be told, it looked kind of rough for that long of a trip. The husband pointed out, "Well, you got new tires," to which Oly smiled proudly and nodded. Together, they estimated the cost of gas for the drive to be something around $500.
Oly got to talking about the dangers of the trip once he crosses the border. He said on two previous occasions, he has made the journey without incident. On another time, though, he was stopped once he crossed the border (into Mexico) and "shook down" for $1,000 to continue on his way. He acknowledged the husband's mention of the drug cartel as a dangerous reality and said his particular village is surrounded by "bad men". He talks to his parents on a regular basis, it seems, and they have told him it is safe for him to come home. Apparently these dangerous men do not bother the local people; they seem to have just set up camp there, so to speak.
The husband, forever the law enforcement man, gave Oly some tips on where to hide his money while he travelled. Oly smiled and proudly described how and where he stashes his cash... that and his green card. He said part of the "shake down" process that can occur once the border is crossed is someone trying to steal green cards or "hold them for ransom" because they know those cards are needed to cross back into the United States. Again we asked him, "And why are you taking this risk?" "To take my truck to my family and other stuff they need," he responded. That other stuff includes things like old ceiling fans and other items that we might disregard here. Oh, and there was one other reason he is determined to leave in the next few weeks... his birthday. He said he hasn't spent a birthday with his parents for seven years. He will turn twenty-three and wants to celebrate with his family.
So I counted back. That would put him as having come to this country around the age of fifteen or sixteen. It sounds like he came with his aunt while (most of??) his family stayed behind (four or five brothers, four sisters). His story is hard to keep up with there, but there is no denying that the boy loves them all. He waits tables, mows lawns, and collects old ceiling fans so he can save up enough to go home occasionally to help them out. We asked him how he plans on getting back if he is leaving his truck there. He said either bus or airplane, he doesn't know yet. He prefers the bus so he can "see all the country" but the bus is not safe anymore and he didn't seem sure about the cost of flying. "It is worth the risk," he smiled, "to go home and be there for my birthday."
I know it sounds like he was at our table for a long time and I guess he was for about fifteen minutes or so. It was just so fascinating to hear this young man's story. When he said he better get busy and wished us well, we just sat there shaking our heads and looking at each other. "Man, I hope he gets back all right," the husband said. "I hope he gets there all right," was all I could say. We looked at his truck and talked about the journey he would be making alone. "If I were younger and didn't have a family to worry about, I 'd ride shotgun with him," the husband said. "That boy could use some back-up."
So like I said, conversations like that always put things in perspective for the husband and me. Nothing kills a pity party like realizing (once again) that the world does not revolve around us. Let's see, we've got the Chinese lady and the Mexican guy to remind us what is really important in life... now I think we need to find somebody Italian. There's got to be a good life lesson hidden away in lasagna somewhere.
Oly is twenty-two years old and speaks pretty good English if you take the time to listen carefully. He has worked at different Mexican restaurants in the area, but seems to like the one he's at now the best. When he's not working there, he mows yards or does other general lawn maintenance type stuff. He was a little bit bummed last night because that line of work has been kind of slow (although he did smile big when he said he had a job to do on Saturday). He said he has been saving his money because he is planning a trip home to Mexico in the next few weeks. If the weather stays good, he's planning on heading out at the end of this month. We asked him where home was. He rattled off a name that both of us were clueless about so he simply said Acapulco.
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| Look to the right of "Pacific Ocean" to find Acapulco in orange. |
We asked him how long it would take him to get there. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "A couple of days." The longest part of the journey would be at the border he said to "legalize" his truck. We finally figured out he plans to "register" his truck to leave it with his family. The cost to do so? $800-$1,200 American dollars. The husband asked him why he would do that. Again, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "They need it." Now his truck is nothing new. It happened to be parked right by where we were sitting and truth be told, it looked kind of rough for that long of a trip. The husband pointed out, "Well, you got new tires," to which Oly smiled proudly and nodded. Together, they estimated the cost of gas for the drive to be something around $500.
Oly got to talking about the dangers of the trip once he crosses the border. He said on two previous occasions, he has made the journey without incident. On another time, though, he was stopped once he crossed the border (into Mexico) and "shook down" for $1,000 to continue on his way. He acknowledged the husband's mention of the drug cartel as a dangerous reality and said his particular village is surrounded by "bad men". He talks to his parents on a regular basis, it seems, and they have told him it is safe for him to come home. Apparently these dangerous men do not bother the local people; they seem to have just set up camp there, so to speak.
The husband, forever the law enforcement man, gave Oly some tips on where to hide his money while he travelled. Oly smiled and proudly described how and where he stashes his cash... that and his green card. He said part of the "shake down" process that can occur once the border is crossed is someone trying to steal green cards or "hold them for ransom" because they know those cards are needed to cross back into the United States. Again we asked him, "And why are you taking this risk?" "To take my truck to my family and other stuff they need," he responded. That other stuff includes things like old ceiling fans and other items that we might disregard here. Oh, and there was one other reason he is determined to leave in the next few weeks... his birthday. He said he hasn't spent a birthday with his parents for seven years. He will turn twenty-three and wants to celebrate with his family.
So I counted back. That would put him as having come to this country around the age of fifteen or sixteen. It sounds like he came with his aunt while (most of??) his family stayed behind (four or five brothers, four sisters). His story is hard to keep up with there, but there is no denying that the boy loves them all. He waits tables, mows lawns, and collects old ceiling fans so he can save up enough to go home occasionally to help them out. We asked him how he plans on getting back if he is leaving his truck there. He said either bus or airplane, he doesn't know yet. He prefers the bus so he can "see all the country" but the bus is not safe anymore and he didn't seem sure about the cost of flying. "It is worth the risk," he smiled, "to go home and be there for my birthday."
I know it sounds like he was at our table for a long time and I guess he was for about fifteen minutes or so. It was just so fascinating to hear this young man's story. When he said he better get busy and wished us well, we just sat there shaking our heads and looking at each other. "Man, I hope he gets back all right," the husband said. "I hope he gets there all right," was all I could say. We looked at his truck and talked about the journey he would be making alone. "If I were younger and didn't have a family to worry about, I 'd ride shotgun with him," the husband said. "That boy could use some back-up."
So like I said, conversations like that always put things in perspective for the husband and me. Nothing kills a pity party like realizing (once again) that the world does not revolve around us. Let's see, we've got the Chinese lady and the Mexican guy to remind us what is really important in life... now I think we need to find somebody Italian. There's got to be a good life lesson hidden away in lasagna somewhere.
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