Insomnia

No good thing can come out of a 2:00 a.m. blog post.
For the last three days, the youngest has been sick. Six days ago, the husband came home sick.
So I don't know why I'm surprised to find that I feel lousy right now.

My neck is stiff. My throat scratchy. My nightgown irritating.
I am hot then cold then hot again. I cannot get comfortable.
My eyes burn. My ear hurts. My mind wanders.

Why am I still awake? Too much coffee? Too much tea?
The non-drowsy cold pill I took around seven in the evening?

After I successfully solved every problem known to man (in my mind, of course), I decided to get up and write. Seeing as how I went to bed around ten, that's a good four hours of problem solving. My grandma would have used that four hours to wash her hair, do a load of laundry, vacuum the living room, and can a batch of... something. Me? I just lie there and berate my body for not having the decency to go to sleep.

Did I mention I have indigestion?

Sheesh. I'm gonna be top-notch in the morning. Aren't you glad you won't be one of the people in my path? Or maybe you will be. If you greet me with a can of Lysol and a protective mask, I promise you won't offend me. Just offer me an extra cup of coffee as well.

I'm off to try this sleep thing again.




Happy Thursday! =)

Memorial Day Means It's Time To Put Away The Easter Decorations

Look, we all knew this day would come.

Gone are the days of Kathie Lee & Hoda and taking care of all my cleaning on Monday. Soap operas are no more (not that I was ever really that into them, but there were days when I would like to peek through the curtains of The Bold & The Beautiful just to see what member of the Forrester family Brooke had married next). The Lord gave me just what I had been praying for: a job. Maybe not the exact job I wanted, but a job nonetheless. Now I can buy groceries without too much of a panic attack, go shopping much more than I use to, and even get the occasional pedicure which I have grown to appreciate. I actually get to talk to people outside of the feline species. But, as we all know, even the good things in life have their downfall. My downfall? The house is a disaster.

I was praising the creation of the Swiffer Duster this morning and thinking back to when I was a little girl. Dusting was never my thing and my mom always had a way of catching me take every possible shortcut. How I would cringe when I would see her walk over to a bookshelf or end table and lift up a picture frame or knick-knack of some sort! I remember the days of dusting an 8x10 of Conway Twitty and ceramic peacocks that sat on the floor. If only there had been the Swiffer then... but no matter. I don't think she would have let me get away with using that thing either. Pledge and a cloth were her cleaning tools of choice.

My weekends now consist of avoiding housework and laundry until the last possible moment. I know I should get a head start on Friday or even do a little throughout the week and believe me, my intentions are always the best. My best intentions have never been things that actually happen, though. Oh well. There's no sense fighting who I am. The front porch swing calls my name and I must answer. My friend invites me to hang out and I must go. It's as simple as that.

Today, however, I did manage to score a small victory in the name of household order. The Easter decorations have been removed (although I don't know if just putting them in a plastic bag and leaving them on the couch counts as a total victory). Baby steps, I always say. If that bag actually makes it to the attic before the Fourth of July, I would say we're in good shape. I just gotta get back in the swing of things.

And speaking of a swing...

And I promise this is an old picture.
I really do NOT still have autumn stuff on my porch;
although I would be a step ahead if I still did.  =)

The Cat That Almost Earned A Tombstone On A Cool Morning

This is the third time I've sat down to write something this morning. The first time was going to be all about how I'm really not a morning person, but when the weather is cool and sunny and not a drop of humidity in the air, my coffee cup and I turn into definite morning material. I read a fellow blogger's entry about Decoration Day, however, and my mind drifted to the days of driving my grandma around so she could decorate her own designated graves. I remember one time driving her about forty-five miles or so with three little kids in the back seat on a hot, May weekday. As she pulled weeds and place flowers in mason jars, she talked of days gone by. I figured those stories would make a good entry, but before I could write anything, I had to get up for a kleenex (you know how thinking back always makes me cry), and that's when I noticed the cat was gone.

Vanished. Off the porch. Not in his usual spot.

You see, Old Man Cat is clawless on his front paws. He's been a pampered indoor cat all his life and as much as he would like to think he could tame the wild, I'm fairly certain he would lose dreadfully on his first go-round with any other four-legged creature, squirrels included. He loves the front porch, though. The back porch is screened-in with a cat's eye view of the little garden pond below that attracts all sorts of birds and the ever-present squirrels of the neighborhood and if all else fails, he will sit out there and contemplate his next move. But, if I'm on the front porch, forget it. He would much rather be there (and I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with me). I think he likes the wide-open feel... nothing to hold him back but the crazy lady who keeps telling him no.

He will usually sit beside me on the swing if he's not stretched out in a luxurious manner in front of me. If that's not to his liking, he'll creep across the porch and try out the sunshine by the rocking chairs. I can always look up from what I'm reading and spot the fur ball on the first- sometimes second- glance. Every now and then, however, he'll pull a fast one on me and slip away. It's those times that my heart will skip a beat or two and my coffee no longer tastes good. That's exactly what happened this morning. That turkey was off the steps before I ever knew he was thinking about it.

So there I was... the funny-looking neighbor lady in a pink, fluffy robe and brown flip-flops wandering the yard calling his name. I looked under the front porch, back porch, and shed porch (we have a lot of porches around here). I knew if I sounded angry he might hunker down and wait it out a while, so I used my sweetest here kitty, kitty voice. I listened to myself and felt something akin to pity- I've got it bad for this cat. The oldest joined me in the search and much to my relief, I finally heard, He's here, Mom. I walked back around front and there he was perched up on the porch like he had done nothing wrong. A quick look under his belly gave him away, though. You don't pick up sand, pine straw, and dry leaves from lounging in the sunshine.

The cat is back inside, the oldest is gone, and my coffee is cold.
And I'm gonna log off for the day before something else comes along.
Mornings, tombstones, and a lost cat. Maybe now that title makes a little more sense. =)

What Do You Mean It's Not About Me?

Last week I troubled by something, and that is putting it lightly. I was upset, mad, and just plain aggravated by a turn of events that caught me by surprise. Already unsettled by the path I have been on, this unexpected news threatened to cause me to make an illegal u-turn and run as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I am so glad I stayed put.

I prayed and grumbled and prayed some more. I lost sleep. I ran out of words long before I ran out of tears. Even last night in a dark and silent house I pondered how in the world I was going to come to terms with the way things were unfolding. I told no one outside the walls of our home. I guess I figured the best thing to do was to stay in one place and stay silent. Today that silence was broken.

Would it make sense to you to say that I was at peace even before I had peace? That sounds crazy enough, but I'm fairly certain someone out there gets it. The thought occurred to me sometime today in the hours before noon. I looked up from what I was doing and realized I was at peace. Even though I didn't quite understand the directions I got from my internal GPS, I just felt that it was right. For once in my life I didn't jump on the nearest exit and wait for it to recalculate.

When His timing was at hand, I was presented with a choice. I knew my decision at once and it was far from what I would have predicted a year ago or even six months ago. Strangely enough, I chose to wait (and if you've read this blog for any length of time, then you know better than me the amount of whining you have read pertaining to me waiting. I am so, so sorry). But seriously, I just knew that was the right choice and you know what? I think that is where the peace came from... peace in the waiting. Maybe it was my acceptance of the fact that He has been waiting on.

So anyway, your peace may have just disappeared based on the confusion from this evening's post, but rest assured. Good things happen for those who wait.

I'm counting on it.

My House Is Dusty For A Reason

I haven't been in the mood to blog much about anything lately.
I haven't been in the mood to clean, cook, or even play with the cats.
About all I've been in the mood to do is read.

Check out my new favorite book HERE.

This book is set smack-dab in the middle of where I grew up (or pretty darn close to it anyway). The husband would say that I have now successfully given away entirely too much information to a virtual world where few people actually know me. He seems to think my stalker fan club is bigger than what it actually is... such is the price of fame (or not). At any rate, I absolute adore this book, so much so, that I am having to pace myself as I near the end. I seriously hate for it to come to a close so quickly. The characters have captivated me, the scenery bewitched me, and the plot has completely and utterly drawn me in so deep that I have a hard time remembering the time and place I now live.

If that's not a convincing review, I don't know what would be.

Maybe it's because at the moment, I am very unhappy and unfulfilled with life as a know it outside my front door. Ironically, things have never been better. Our money woes have subsided, work is steady and sure, and the three young people who share our home continue to plod through life at their own pace (that is a good thing, just to be clear). From the outside looking in, things are looking up. From the inside looking out, things have never looked fuzzier. Maybe I'm just not quite convinced the reality around me is real.

If you think that's confusing, you should be the one writing it.

Oh well. I read and read and pile laundry on the couch between chapters. At some point in the next few hours, I will slip away for a coffee and a potential trip to the grocery store (although I am not really feeling the pull of a check-out line). I'll finish my book and splash cold water on my face and try to shake the memories of home and a slower pace. I'll remind myself that I am blessed and hug the husband who thinks I'm crazy and try not to cry when a child rolls their eyes at me. I'll convince myself that I haven't settled and prop a smile on my face for the morning and roll through another work week.

But you can bet I'll find another book to read.
Just maybe one with a little more violence.*
And, for the sake of laundry and housework, shorter chapters.



*This remark by no means coincides with any feelings I may have on the inside. Just throwing that out there.=)

Putting Off Monday

I've never been anti-Monday, but there are some weekends I would rather not see end. This has certainly been one of them. Maybe it's the beautiful weather, the windows open, the house clean... Maybe it's the fact that once Monday hits, all these things become null and void. One thing is for certain, I'm trying to make it last as long as I can.

For starters, I've had caffeine. Lots of it. I'm sitting outside even as the sun sinks far below the western tree line. I put away all the laundry just moments earlier and completed one long overdue craft project.

And I just offered to take the youngest for a milkshake.

Welcome Summer.



Happy Mother's Day. =) 

Moonflowers On My Casket*

My daughter and I had a conversation last week that carried over into a conversation I had with my mom this week. It was one if those pity party/pep talks in which you try to convince yourself that money isn't everything. Now don't get me wrong, I know money isn't everything, but I also know how easy that lie can come to rest on your shoulders if you're not careful.

No one in my family has a smartphone. It's probably not that a data plan for a family of five is totally out of the question- although I do like to eat more than ramen noodles and pork and beans on any given night. It's just something that I find totally unnecessary for our family. I gotta be honest anyway... I'm not sure I want the world at my fingertips. I like to avoid the world as much as possible, remember?

There is not a car in our driveway with under one-hundred thousand miles. In fact, one of them proudly sports over two-hundred thousand well-used miles. Sure, they're mostly missing all the bells and whistles of the newer generation. The motors are more than a little grumpy most days and the moans and groans each vehicle makes reminds me of an old man with a bad case of arthritis. Hey, at least we've got character.

Brand name clothes for us come from Target. My daughter pointed this out and I had to laugh. She's right! We've never been one to spend over forty bucks for a pair of tennis shoes (and even that's a stretch). Our kids appreciate the shopping spree of a thrift store and Christmas comes early when we shop at the mall. Sure, we appreciate the high quality of something nice, but sometimes that something nice can (and does) come right off the Walmart rack.

I've drank the ice-cold water of a spring from an old mug hanging on a tree. I've watched moonflowers open at night and breathed in their perfume. I've picked lilacs in full bloom to fill a mason jar on my table. I've seen the sun rise over the Atlantic.

I've stood on top of a mountain.
I've worked inside a mountain.
I've even slid down a mountain road (unplanned!) in the snow.

I love dirt roads and the sound of dead leaves crunching under my feet. I save letters from my grandma and notes from my mom and random scraps of paper from my dad. I cherish a letter my brother once wrote me. I really do have a list of twenty-five things to do before I die.

There are truly things that money cannot buy. There are experiences that cannot be bought on credit and memories that cannot be repossessed. Sometimes it's good to have those conversations and to remind one another that a smartphone will soon enough be outdated. New cars will eventually rust. Clothing can be as fickle as a cat in the morning.

Moonflowers, though?

Now that is something to experience.
They'll just have to bury me at night.



*For entertainment purposes only. Send me away with pink roses in the sunshine, please.

Happy Endings

So,

My phone rang this evening approximately thirty minutes after the oldest left to pick up his girlfriend for a date. Thinking that he needed to double check his directions for the place they were headed to, I prepared in my head a mental map. His opening line, however, told me this call had nothing to do with directions.

Mom, this just isn't my day.

To make a long story short and simply cut to the chase, he had lost his backpack. You see, he wears this backpack while riding his motorcycle and it's full of all things important: ipad, cool video camera, other assorted odds and ends. Apparently he had placed said backpack on top of the girlfriend's car as they got ready to leave and...

Well, you can probably finish that story.

Somewhere along the way he realized that the backpack was not in the backseat. Somewhere along the way he knew the backpack had slid off the top of the car. Somewhere along the way he began to feel very sick to his stomach.

The youngest and I made a few signs and drove the area where he thought he might have lost it. Posting flyers with turquoise thumbtacks, we searched ditches and roamed neighborhoods like some wanna-be stalkers with little luck. Defeated, we came home and had just sat down when the doorbell rang.

Yes.

A random man stood on our front porch telling a tale of a backpack he had found on the side of the road. He tracked us down thanks to an old paystub with an address. Nothing was missing. What makes this story unique (at least to me) is that the entire time we were looking for that backpack, I wanted to be the one to find it.

Me. Myself. And I.

Maybe I wanted to be a hero to my son. Maybe I wanted to show the husband that my searching was not in vain. Maybe I just needed something to brag about. None of that matters now. The Lord had a different plan and when you think about it, it was rather ingenious: a complete stranger doing what he said "was just the right thing to do."

That story is way cooler than just a mom finding her kid's backpack.



I just love a happy ending.