hmph:

A sound, usually made with a closed mouth, indicating annoyance, indignation, or sighing.*

Apparently my last post with "My Secret To Happiness" in the title hasn't done so well in the virtual world. I am somewhat of a stat watcher- my biggest fan base is overseas, go figure.** Oh well. I'm sure people are just busy with other things like laundry and work and spring weather. Besides, I tend to skim over anyone else's cure for happiness myself. As long as my mom keeps reading, I'm good.

Back to the business at hand.

Thank God The Tomb Is Empty!

Strangely enough, my house is also about to be empty. We had plans for Easter dinner, but our intended guests came down with a stomach virus of some sort. When that fell through, I graciously offered one kid the opportunity to do as he pleased today and the word spread like wildfire. I've now got two sons spending the day with the families of the girlfriends and a daughter embarking on an Easter egg hunt with a friend. That leaves me, the husband, and our good Sunday clothes. This will be the first year ever that there hasn't been a ham baking in the oven.

I think I'll let someone else do the cooking today.

My mom always told me that once the kids grew up, things would be different. They're by no means grown and out of the house (well, one pretty much does as he pleases), but things are certainly different. Some things know no age limits, though... there were three chocolate bunnies lined up and standing at attention on the mantle this morning. Every kid I saw smiled as they walked by and plucked away their prize. I don't know if that crazy big bunny will every get to retire.

Happy Easter, Everyone!


*(en.wiktionary.org/wiki/hmph)
**sarcasm; not true; an inside joke

My Secret To A Happy Life (When I'm Not Complaining, That Is)

I woke up with two, make that three thoughts in my head:

1). Good grief, it's after ten o'clock already?
2). My gosh, that felt good to sleep in.
3). Good Lord, it's Good Friday.

Look, my thoughts don't run too deep when I first wake up. All I can tell you is that I heard a lock turn on the front door, found myself stretching in the middle of an otherwise empty bed, and reached for my glasses to see the time. I didn't get up right away; I stayed put and soaked in the moment for a bit. There wasn't a whole lot of thinking going on.

I do have a lot before me today. There's a pile of laundry on the washer, a pile of laundry beside my bed, and I'm pretty sure a pile of laundry in the bathroom. I want to clean the house, polish the floors, and remove the hairball from beside the computer chair. I've got flowers waiting to be planted, a grocery list to be checked off, and a pesky fountain pump outside that needs to be fixed. Oh, and there's the two porches and swing and rocking chairs sporting that fine, yellow pollen...

So why am I still sitting here?

I'm taking in the moment, my friend.

Earlier in the week, a friend and I were talking about how people get so busy with their lives, the idea of having fun seems foreign and something they have to plan into their schedule. She was talking about the fun that happens with her family all the time... games, bowling, stuff like that. I'll admit that I'm not the best at that kind of fun, but one thing I am pretty good at is knowing how to appreciate any given moment of any given day. Some might call that laziness. I call it a very good system.

Like today. I know what this day represents to me and my faith. I don't have a Bible open before me and I don't have the highest of Christian vocabularies, but when I have to pause from typing to wipe a tear away from my eye and my heart chokes up a bit due to an emotion that I cannot describe to you... well, I don't even know what to say. Without this day, I would be a hopeless mess.

I am a sinner. I'm lousy at church attendance.
I don't read a devotion every morning.

I complain. I whine. I doubt.

But there is Someone. Someone who knows me better than myself. Someone who knows that once I peel back the cares of this world and get past the imperfections of this body, I'll find peace. Peace that could only come about because of a Man and His WILLINGNESS to take MY mess upon Himself and turn it into something beautiful.

There truly is no greater love.

So yes.

I sit and think about all I need to do.
I sit and think about all I need to know.

Only then will I get up and get busy.

It's a system, and it works well for me.

Uncertainty

I told the Lord yesterday afternoon that He was going to stretch me so far, I would surely snap. I cried while making tacos; cried while talking to the husband; cried while looking at the cats. Then I dried my eyes before the kids came in, asked the youngest to set the table, and sat down with four out of five family members.

It was the best therapy ever.

This morning I woke up thinking that although I do indeed feel a little more stretched than I did yesterday, I have not snapped. I know not what this day will bring and truth be told, I would like to hide from it and not peek out the curtains until maybe tomorrow... but thankfully I know that I'll not face the clouds alone.

Time to make the oatmeal. =)

You May Not Think This Is Pretty, But I Sure Feel Better

May I ramble on for a bit?

...and if you know me in the real-life-kind-of-way, please don't bother making a mental note to ask me tonight or tomorrow or the next day what in the world this is all about...

Just let me ramble.

~*~*~Sheesh.  I've already deleted what I thought I wanted to write at least three times.~*~*

Let me try a different tactic.

My weekend was awesome. I love rainy days and March Madness and a husband who likes to look at shoes. I'll be the first to admit that I don't know much about this modern world or pop culture or what irks nineteen-year old boys, but I do know what I like (emphasis on the I).

And maybe I just now understood what it is I want to write.

Boy, this is gonna be selfish. Brace yourself.

I did not incur a massive student loan debt to please other people. Crazy, but true. I knew exactly what I was doing. I started out seeking a degree in elementary education when I mentioned to my husband about one semester in, "You know, I really don't want to do this psycho-questioning-how-a-state-thinks-you-ought-to-teach madness for four years."

"So do what you love," the man of the house answered back.

"I love to teach."  "So what do you love to teach?"  "History."  "So teach history."

I listened. I prayed. End of my life-changing discussion.

Off toward a history degree I went. That diploma now hangs on my wall. A job (in that field) is yet to be found.

How can that be?

How can I have such a burning desire to teach history, to talk about history, to do anything that has to do with history, and still be sitting here bemoaning the fact that as of right now, that diploma is absolutely useless to me?

Well, unless you count the fact that it was a MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT...

Anyway.

I am frustrated.

But I'm still proud.

I have mentioned before (on this blog) that graduating college is on my list of  25 Things To Do Before I Die. Apparently I should have added a number twenty-six: Gain employment that actually uses said degree.

I'm somewhat sorry you've been subjected to this ramble, especially if you were looking for something uplifting or comical. You might want to check out some of the other blogs listed on my page for content a little less me-related.

Lord, can I move back home yet? Just take me back ten years and let's go at this thing from another angle.

Seriously.

I am so not getting this plan of Yours.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord.*

And there He goes again, reminding me of whose life this is anyhow.

Not mine. All His. Wait I will. I love when it He talks me out of my whining.

(Just please don't let Kansas make it to the Final Four. Please?)

And Amen.

*Isaiah 55:8-9

My Memories Ran Away

I am still on the search for that blasted wedding album. I mean really... how many people out there misplace a white, satin photo album covered with lace and ribbons? When I couldn't find it last year, I chuckled to myself and moved on. Now that I still can't find it this year, my funky memory glitch is not-so-funny.

Where would I have put it?

Not in the cedar chest. I distinctly remember removing it from that cedar chest for the sole reason that I wanted easier access to those pictures. Just to be certain, however, I have looked in that chest two times in the last couple of weeks. The only thing I've gained from those fruitless searches is happy memories and unfolded laundry.

I looked under the bed. I don't know why I would have put it there, but under the guise of easier access, it seemed like a logical place to look (my under-the-bed is pretty sparse, in case you're wondering; you can easily see what is under there, dust bunnies and all). And speaking of dust bunnies, that is the only thing I found.

Night stand? No.

Closet? Not from what I can tell (and that should tell you why the under-the-bed is clean... it's all in the closet). I've checked the floor. I've semi went through the shelves. The daughter seems certain that's where it'll be. She could be right, but boy.... if it's there, I don't know where. Like I said, the thing is big and white and dripping with ribbons. It oughta stand out. I'm gonna conduct a more in-depth look tomorrow night. 

Because after that, I'm out of ideas.

And I'd really like to find it. Wednesday is the BIG day. Subjecting the family to the wedding video is not enough. They need to fully experience the wedding album one more time, not to mention listen to the stories that go with each picture. There's nothing I like better than a captive audience.

Unless someone in that captive audience figured out how to avoid the mom-forced memory hour.

Maybe I should look under their beds.

Brothers

Of the canine kind.

A picture of my weekend. =)

Dear Mom,

I am writing this a day early for two reasons:

1). The house is quiet at the moment, and
2). I don't know if it will be this quiet tomorrow.

If I haven't told you enough already, I really, really love you. If I haven't said thank you quite as often as I should, thank you, thank you, thank you. And, because I know it's been a few days since I probably told you this, I miss you.

Tomorrow is your birthday and I never did get that card in the mail. I know you'll say that I come by that honest, but still... I don't know why I put things like that off. I looked online to send you flowers yesterday, and yet everything I looked at just didn't add up to what I would want you to see or know or... something. I can't quite put it into words, but even the most beautiful and expensive bouquets were severely lacking what I would want to express. Besides, you would just tell me I shouldn't have spent my money and probably would've mailed me a check. That's just the way you are.

I'm learning alot of things here lately. Just when I thought I had this whole motherhood-thing figured out, life throws a new curve at me. I can feel that oldest of mine slipping away. I think I told you it was like he is "inching away, a little at a time." I suppose only a mother can understand how much that tears at the heart. I know I understand a little more of what you must have went through all those years back. First with my brother. Then with me. I'm glad to see him independent and happy and ready to tackle life on his own, and yet... yet, I wish he could still be a little boy if only for a short while. What am I gonna do when it becomes the next one's turn and then the next?

I will call you.

I will call you and tell you how happy I am that they are happy and how nice it will be to have that extra room in the house and most likely ramble on the way I am rambling now, but inside we will both know the same thing: Life as I knew it will never be the same.

Except for one thing,

If those kids will think of me the way I think of you now, then I am in for one of the greatest rewards life has to offer. I don't just love you, I admire you. If I can give you no other gift on your birthday, I can at least let you know that. You are one of the strongest women I know. I think of you as my best friend. These miles that separate us only served to prove the one thing that I know for sure:

I am nothing without the presence of my mother in my life.

Happy Birthday, Mom, a whole day early.

And P.S.

You really do have a gift in the works. I just get a little behind on things. I think I get that from you. =)

Larry Tate Is A Jerk

As I sit in my usual spot on the couch watching yet another black-and-white episode of Bewitched, I can't help but notice for the umteempth time what a pig that Larry is... an old, gray-haired man in a suit checking out every female form in a skirt that strolls by his office door. In tonight's plot, he thinks Darrin (Darren?) is fooling around on Sam and slaps him jealously on the back. That a boy, he says. You son of a gun, he gushes.

oink, oink, oink.

Next up is I Dream of Jeannie. Nothing like a little feel-good manipulation to get a man to do whatever you want (sarcasm alert!). I will say this, though... I have always been jealous of the cushy digs Jeanie has in that bottle. Granted, she can also get trapped in those digs with a simple plug of a cork. There's always a trade-off to the peace and quiet a woman craves. I suppose a man feels the same way.


(lapse of time due to a cookie break)


I heard my phone ringing and as I pulled myself off the couch, I grumbled under my breath about who would be calling me after eight-thirty on a Friday night. I mean... sheesh. Some of us enjoy the comfort of a mundane evening, at least most of the time. The name popping up on my phone was that of the husband. I never even noticed he left.

What are you doing? he asked.

Talking to you, I said trying hard to keep the duh! out of my voice.

He told me to come out to the backyard (which explained why I never heard him leave). When I hesitated- I mean, I was awfully comfortable on that couch, he sweetened the deal: I've got a fire going and your chair by mine. That kind of offer is hard for even a bum like me to resist.

So we sat together watching the flames of our first bonfire of the new year.

Peaceful. Quiet. No Jeannie's bottle necessary.

And no pig-of-a-man Larry Tate in sight.

I Know It's Not Easter, But...

This is a testimony of new life.

Because I posted the following obituary (click on the title below to read) back in December,

The "My Laptop Is Dead" Story

I thought I would bring forth the happy resurrection tale of that same laptop.
Read on if you have nothing better to do at the moment.

Photo Taken In The Glory Days of the Laptop Computer and What Appears To Be That Darn Class On Ancient Greece

To make a long story short, my frustration over the said laptop collecting dust in the corner got the better of me one day. Since I have been collecting a paycheck for the last few months, I announced that if nothing was going to be done about fixing the blasted thing, I was marching myself down to the local store and buying myself a new one. I kid you not when I say that within the hour, tools were brought out, the laptop dusted off, and pieces and parts and wires began to be carefully removed and examined on the living room floor. A little over a week later, I have a perfectly-functioning power button and internet-accessible computer. The only serious issue came up when the oldest asked me for my password yesterday... I had to think on that one for a bit and breathed a sigh of relief when we hit it right the first time.

All is well in the techno world.

Now I think I'll head outside for the real world.

Spare Change

My coffee fund gets a little bit richer every week that I do laundry; especially from one kid in particular. Now  you know the secret to funding my habit: loose change left in pockets. No, I do not give it back. I've even been known to keep a surprisingly crisp and clean ten dollar bill. I rarely find paper money any more (they caught on quick) and what I do find is usually in the form of wrinkled and crushed lonely dollar bills. My stash stacks up a quarter at a time.

I woke up this morning with a smile on my face. Saturday. I've always loved Saturdays whether I was working or not. Nobody's in a hurry. No alarms screeching through the silence (unless you count the husband's five o'clock alarm that I easily tuned out). I fixed my coffee in a quiet house and climbed back into bed to read. Even the cats are mercifully laid back on a weekend morning. I currently have a load of laundry going (hence the money-finding opener) and am in no hurry to change out of my pajamas.

The oldest received a job offer yesterday that had us all staring in amazement. That boy has been offered more money to start a job than the husband and I have ever dreamed about. Seriously. I think back on his childhood years and that unique obsession to take everything apart just to see how it worked and meticulously put it all back together to working order. I remember sitting in a guidance office at the beginning of his tenth grade year, his first year of public school, and the husband mildly suggesting he consider a particular route at a technical school. That boy jumped on it and never looked back. Now here he is, not quite a full year after his high school graduation, with a huge opportunity before him. He is riding high and quite pleased with himself. He also has dreams of moving out, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

At the moment, I hear the intermittent spray sounds coming from a can of Pam, the generic kind anyway. That can only mean one thing: the middle is in the kitchen preparing a batch of muffins. I knew I was saving that second cup of coffee for something special. See what I mean?

You gotta love a Saturday.

Sunshine Moments For When The Storms Come

Early Saturday morning, the husband called me with a request to bring him an item or two he had forgotten for a job he was doing. Without checking in on the sleeping kids, I slipped out the door, loaded the van, and headed his way only to see him with another guy that I didn't know. They both had their backs to me as they sat huddled together on a twenty-foot lift working with some kind of paint or spackling compound or something. I had no idea who the other guy in blue coveralls and a ball cap could be. Even as they turned around and waved, I was still clueless. It wasn't until the other guy gave me a double thumbs-up sign that I knew who he was. My son. The second born. Working with his dad and the both of them smiling. There was a time when those two butted heads and butted them often. I cannot express how much joy that gave me in that moment seeing the two of them together.

Later in the day, the daughter and I went out for a little random shopping and lots of laughs. I so enjoyed the day with her that I took her out again the next day. You have to understand, things like this just don't happen in our house. Money is always so tight; there's always something else that is so needed... for crying out loud, even I grow weary of how many times I have to tell her no to something. But this weekend, I made it a point to say yes often and you know what? It really didn't cost me that much. We had a good time. In fact, we were having such a good time that I ended up saying I would go to an exercise class with her. Tonight. Good Lord. This child is going to be more than entertained by watching her mother in some nonsense call jazzercise. If I never blog again, you'll understand my body went down due to extreme shock.

For now, though, the sun is shining and the day is pleasant. I came home from work to find father and (oldest) son working in the backyard. One had his head buried in the hood of an old Ford truck and the other had an intense look while working on his motorcycle. I can still hear them both laughing about something or other through the cracked window above my kitchen sink. The washing machine is humming. The cats are chasing each other. The world just seems right. Even though I have so many questions about so many things going on in my life right now, I can honestly say- that in this moment, that all of them are irrelevant. There is nothing that could possibly take precedence over a family who is actually getting along and liking each other. That's a pretty big deal no matter who you are or where you live.

And if you know anything about me at all, you'll know that I take moments like these and hold on tight. My mind snaps a picture and simultaneously records the laughter. Though trouble will eventually come, the good hangs in there and outlasts the storm.

Thank God for moments of sunshine. =)

I'm A Big Believer In Cake Pops

They're cute. They're tasty. And they're just the right size.






I like to think I'm pretty much a simple girl. I don't get too excited about a whole lot with the exception of Atlanta football,  Kentucky basketball, and old-school country singers in cowboy hats. I'm in love with Jesus, my parents, my husband and kids, and my country. I like to cook with real butter. I despise sorting socks. I've got a quick temper when I feel threatened. I'm not a fan of the mall. I'm very much the frugal shopper unless faced with a Starbucks sign or a pedicure in the spring and summer months. I don't like to spend money, but sometimes... I like to spend it very much.

I come from a small town. The words crime scene and racism and Mercedes Benz didn't mean much to me. I don't know that I could have really correctly defined any of those words at any point in my young life. It wasn't that we were ignorant; I just don't think we were faced with any of it. Life was safe. People were people. Everyone I knew drove a Ford or Chevy. My parents worked hard. They didn't cuss or drink or smoke or teach me anything other than respect and values and love. Family life may not have been perfect, but it was always stable. I didn't know how much I would appreciate all that until I got older.

I've been on quite the learning curve since we made the change from a one-stoplight town to a central six-county region of around 710,000 people. I don't care how long I live here... that number will always be about 705,000 too many people for me. I realize those numbers don't even come close to the big city numbers out there; but when I hear people refer to this area as a small town, I think to myself  you have no idea and for that experience, I am thankful.

But too be honest, I am more than spoiled with the many amenities that now surround me. I've developed quite the Starbucks habit. I've been to more movies in the last five years than I had been in my entire life. As much as I hate the mall, I appreciate the fact that going there doesn't become an entire day event with the time it takes to drive there and back. I love restaurants. I like hearing about all the concerts available (even if I can't afford 95% of them). I get a kick out of the abundance of nail salons and Chinese buffets. Things are certainly never dull.

And that's what I miss, if that makes any sense. I suppose that's why I am so addicted to my front-porch swing. I don't keep a quilt and pillows out there for no good reason. I'm a big believer in lazy days and afternoon naps and a cup of decaf as the sun goes down. I may get angry at the non-signal-using fools in morning traffic and become extremely agitated when the old lady in the smart car steals my parking spot... but it doesn't take much to unwind me and take me back to a simpler time.

The promise of eternity.
The adoration of my parents.
The love of a good man.

The sight of three kids at the dinner table.

And cake pops. Definitely the cake pop. Starbuck's Salted Caramel version pictured above. Combine that with George Strait on the radio and my Friday afternoon just got a little sweeter.

No small town needed.