The Great Mattress Experiment

Because our mattress situation has sunk (ha!) to the point of becoming desperately desperate, the husband and I succumbed to desperate measures over the weekend (and no, I did by no means overuse the word desperate there). It is what it is. We didn't turn to credit cards or in-store financing- although the temptation has been great- we simply asked ourselves what we could afford at this time in our lives. The best we could come up with?

An air mattress.

We went to Walmart where only crazy people on a Saturday venture (the only description that fits people willing to stand in one of three check-out lines open in a thirty-eight register store) and bought a queen size, comfort plush (oooh) air mattress for forty dollars. We discarded our old mattress with little ceremony and placed the air bed on top of the box spring. On top went our well-used, four-inch foam/pillow top and away we went. The electric pump is built in to the head of the mattress so it is rather handy to use- gone are the days of the bicycle or foot pump.

I immediately took a nap. It really did feel that good.

Then night came along and the husband joined me.

It no longer felt that good.

When he climbed in, my side went up (and there's really not a huge difference in our weight- just enough to make a difference, I guess). For two nights he slept like a baby while I teetered on the top of an over-sized balloon. Last night I told him something had to give... namely the air in that bed. He let some air out and I agreed to put some back in and we finally reached something of a compromise. We laughed to ourselves as we considered the concept of the Sleep Number bed (so that's what the fuss is all about) and said our good nights.

Good grief, did I ever sleep good.

My hips don't hurt, at least the way they usually do of a morning. The mere fact that I am up blogging before I go to work says wonders... not to mention the fact that I am announcing to the virtual world that I actually sleep on an air mattress by choice. I honestly don't know how long we'll be able to ride this cheap and quick fix that we've stumbled upon. It might get old really quick. It might be over in the next few months, but until my paycheck picks up again, it's not a bad decision.

Even if it is a decision based on a lot of hot air. =)

My Friend Has Died

Okay, so I didn't really know him, but stick with the story.

The husband has grown weary of my whining- at least that's what the glazed look in his eyes tell me-

so off to blog land I go.

RIP Vince Flynn. On my list of favorite authors, he's right up there at the top.

*Photo (and other info in this entry)  from his website: http://www.vinceflynn.com/inmemorium.html*

I've read all of his books. Some more than once. I've got 'em in hardback, paperback, and e-back (book, that is). With a disclaimer to say there is language involved, I would recommend them to anyone who likes a lot of action and very little romance.

You gotta admire this guy. He was diagnosed with dyslexia as a young kid and received more than sixty rejection letters while attempting to publish his first novel Term Limits (which would go on to be a New York Times bestseller, by the way). With the exception of Term Limits, the series revolves around Mitch Rapp, a CIA super agent who is part of an operation that doesn't officially exist (or something like that). Every one of Flynn's books would end up becoming a bestseller, and here's a little tidbit of information that's pretty cool... Memorial Day was considered so accurate, it was reviewed by the Pentagon before its released. 

When the husband, who has heard me talk about Mitch Rapp one too many times, told me last week that Vince Flynn had died, I felt like I had lost a friend. Silly, I know, considering I never even met the man, but I think we get to know someone through the things that they write. And when we read a lot... well, that makes for a lot of friends.

So anyway, I just wanted to share with you the passing of a friend. In honor of him, I've started American Assassin (book one in the Rapp series) again.

It helps to ease the pain.

Let's Talk Depression

Do you ever wonder what our relationships might be like if we really took the time to care? Do we really have any idea what the average person is going through on any given day? Think about the person you pass in the grocery store aisle. Or the person sitting next to you at the corner red light. What about the person you work with? The person you live with? I think too often we are content to take someone's "I'm fine" reply and move on, not giving a second thought to the fact that maybe they really didn't mean it. Maybe they are really dying a slow death inside and don't want to bother you with the messy details.

Maybe they know you really don't want to be bothered with those messy details.
Depression is not pretty. Mental illness is unsettling. Life is pretty darn twisted at times.

But what are we if not our brother's helper?

Look, I by no means have it figured out. The only psychology I ever studied was the little required to complete a bachelor's degree in history and I promise you, it wasn't that much. I've never been into health care or mental care or any other kind of care for that matter, but I like to think that I do care. And I can tell you this- (brace yourself)- sometimes a Jesus pep talk is not the quick fix that we would like it to be.

I've witnessed the dark side of depression. Not the side where you cry uncontrollably or sit quietly and watch a marathon of Lifetime movies, but the side where for all intents and purposes, you are functioning on a reasonably intelligent level on the outside while methodically planning your demise on the inside. That's the scary side. Those are the people you might come in contact with on a daily basis and never even know it.

That's why we need to listen.

Seriously, people. Don't discard someone else's troubles. Don't just pat 'em on the back and tell 'em you'll pray for them. Yes, those actions are important, but that can't be where we stop. And it goes both ways... I firmly believe that when we try to pretend that we've got it all together and Jesus has never left us wondering, well... I mean, really. Who are we fooling?

Sometimes when I write what I write, my mom will shoot me a quick email:

What was that all about? Are you all right?

For that reason, I do my best to temper my topics and word choices. I love my mom too much to worry her, but I also love those people in my life too much to just write about flowers and sunshine. Life can be rough. Period. People hurt people and some people hurt those people badly. Let's try to be a little more sensitive to the souls the Lord has put in our life. They just might be there for a reason.

Let's not miss it.

A Waste Of Time

I splurged over the weekend and bought myself the Nook HD+, passing down my Nook Tablet to the youngest. She's happy. I'm happy.

I have yet to read a book.

Let me put it this way... one review for a particular game app said this,

It's the ultimate time waster.

No kidding. I've got the next-in-line book ready to go. I see the cover every time I hit the power button, but I can't see to get past some game where you "throw" wadded-paper balls into a trash can basket. I've played this game not only in the office setting, but also on the moon, in the snow, and in the woods. I'm telling you, the ultimate time waster is right on the money.

Wait a minute.

My last post was all about being lazy. I hate for you all to get the wrong impression about me.

I worked today. I went to the store.
I finished a load of laundry and cooked an awesome dinner.

Granted, I did the last two things in my pajamas, but hey...

I like to do things in style around here.

Even waste massive amounts of time.

On A Scale Of 1~10, Just How Lazy Are You?

The youngest asked if I had written a blog entry lately and my answer to her was no... lack of inspiration. After I said that and really thought about it, I knew it was more a matter of an excessive amount of laziness. To say I am not inspired on a daily basis would be a lie. To say I deal with laziness on an hourly basis would be more to the point. Consider this,

My bathroom is atrocious.
Yes. I said atrocious.
Atrocious: adjective. Horrifyingly wicked.

It needs to be bleached, swept, and steamed. The shower liner needs to be changed. The basket of hair stuff I never use needs to be removed. The many jars of wrinkle remover need to be alphabetized. I really think the spider living among the muck ought to be evicted.

On the other hand, the kids' bathroom? Spotless. Sparkling. It even smells fresh. That youngest of mine takes the cake. She couldn't sleep one night so what did she do? She cleaned their bathroom of all things. My grandma was surely doing a jig in heaven over that one.

She, the youngest, is in her room now embarking on some craft project. The middle, Mr. Hulk himself, is in the shed perfecting his physique. The oldest is half under his bed cleaning things out. Seriously. I looked behind me and all I saw was a foot sticking out. I should really take a lesson from these kids.

Then again, I am only on my twenty-seventh load of laundry for the weekend.
Okay... maybe just the fourth or fifth, but you get the idea. Thank goodness for the muscle of Whirlpool.

So, yes. I am inspired. I'm inspired by these kids of mine who stay busy and shower their dad with love on Father's Day. From pocket knives to t-shirts to his favorite box of cookies, the man with a lousy excuse for a father has turned out to be a remarkable father, and our kids are always faithful to remind him of that.

I'm inspired by my own dad who always has time to talk to me on the phone.
I'm inspired by my nephew in-law (is there such a thing?) who lets his little girl help wash a car.
I'm inspired by a couple of teenage boys I know who press on with no earthly father to guide them.

And, yes. I do have a streak of laziness. Bathrooms just aren't my priority.
Although if that spider invites a few house guests, my priorities will change very quickly.

I'm not that lazy. =)

The Easiest Kind Of Makeover

I don't know that I'll ever be comfortable teaching my kids to drive. It's not that they're bad drivers. In fact, it's quite the opposite. We're on two out of three right now and I'll admit that I have yet to grip (too tightly) any arm rests. I suppose it's just the fact that when they are behind the wheel, they are the ones in control. I think that's the part that bothers me a little. It's just not natural... and yet it's exactly the way life should be unfolding. We're in no big hurry to get driver's licenses around here (the middle just turned seventeen, the same age the oldest was when he got his), but like everything else, I suppose, you just can't stop time from marching on.

The youngest may not be driving yet- though she reminds me almost daily that the time for her permit is just around the corner. Nonetheless, she has embarked on something new and something of her own. Blogging. She promises me that her own ramblings will revolve around no one in our family (of the human species anyway). Crafts, sewing, cooking, and the ever-present cats take up most of her time. She has a writing style somewhat like mine, only more entertaining without a doubt. I don't know if she'll stick to it or if it's just something to occupy her summer with, but it will be fun to read no matter how long it lasts. You can look her up HERE.

And finally, with the coming of the summer months, I thought it was time to lighten up the look of my own blog. A quick makeover never hurt anybody.

Besides, pink has always been my favorite color.

We Have Survived Another Year Without Medication

(And anybody that knows me knows that's an inside joke. I medicate other ways... believe me).

This was the middle and youngest at the beginning of this school year.

Full of hope.

Full of dread.

Full of hair.

The year went by pretty uneventful. In fact, on a scale of one to ten with one being the worst school year ever (which we've had) and ten being the best one yet, I would say this one came pretty darn close to being a ten. Very little drama. Very good grades.

One happy mom and dad.

(And this in no way reflects the fact that the oldest is no longer in the school picture, just so you know).

It was just a good year.

They even got along. I think deep down, way deep down, they are starting to realize they do kinda actually like each other... at least some of the time.

My two youngest.

Always missing the oldest.

Never really use to this changing family dynamic.

Senior Year #2 Coming Up Next.

I'm Not Depressed; You're Just Hungry

The calendar may not have marked the first official day of summer yet, but as far as I'm concerned, summer is officially here. The weather is warm and humid, the sky thunders and flashes at night, and the kids are winding down on another school year. One year ago my blog posts were full of the oldest and his graduation. Now the time of the middle is fast approaching. My former long-haired rock star is about to be a senior and the baby of the family is moving on to her sophomore year.

In the midst of all this, the following question was presented to me just this afternoon:

Mom, are you depressed?
Not at the moment. Why?
Because (the middle) and I were discussing it, and we think you are depressed.
Why would I be depressed?
Because (the oldest) will be moving out soon.
So you discuss me and my moods when I'm not around?
Basically.

I assured my young psychologist that I am not at all feeling depressed and wondered out loud how I have been acting that would make anyone thing that way. The answer?

Well, you're kinda quiet and you really don't cook anymore.

That made me laugh. I don't cook anymore? I'm tired, people. Little Miss Holly Homemaker has went back to work and it's taking more than a little while to get back in the swing of things. I still cook, but it's not an every night thing... it's more of a hit and miss thing, to tell the truth.

But they're in luck tonight.
Mama's gonna cook and she's in a good mood.
We'll discuss the moving out of the oldest at another time.