Is It Wrong to Save Pictures of Another Man?

I was cleaning over the weekend and decided to focus most of my energy on the dust bunnies that have taken up residence in my bedroom. Because I had no intention of getting out of the house, I kept my pajamas on, hair pulled up, and left the contacts on the bathroom shelf. This may seem insignificant, but trust me... that last part is what sets up this story. I folded clothes and put up clothes, sorted papers into what's important and what's not important (until I need it later, of course), and made a pile of birthday cards, Christmas cards, and Mother's Day cards.

Yes, it's been a while since I cleaned.

I pulled boxes down from the top shelf to put away keepsakes and was looking at old pictures and graduation tassels and all those things that make up a life. These are the things that I have always pictured my grandchildren sorting through some day as they attempt to "figure the old woman out". There was a particular stash of photos (tied with a ribbon, of course) of the husband as he was when we first met. Young. Military. Hair. I smiled to myself as I thought of those memories and flipped through the pictures one by one and that's when I saw it. Well, that's when I saw him, to be more specific.

Another man.

I took off my glasses to get a better look. You see, a year or so ago I was advised by the eye doctor to get bifocals. I can't see anything far away. Zip. Zilch. Nothing but a blur. That's old news. I've been like that since the fourth grade. What is new, however, is this brutally, cruel inability to see anything close up. I will squint and stretch my arm out to no avail. If I have my contacts in, reading glasses- like the kind you find on the rack at Walmart, are required to make sense of what I'm looking at; if I have my regular glasses on with no contacts, I just take them off so I can see.

It is beyond irritating.

I am fairly certain that when this particular picture was so carefully and painstakingly tucked away into my special box of special memories, I had my contacts in. If you are keeping up with this rambling, then you understand that if I didn't have on reading glasses, my vision would have been fuzzy at best. Because I was now cleaning and reminiscing with my regular glasses on, I instantly knew that something was not right in my special world. I took my glasses off and peered closely at the picture of the fellow who was smiling at me.

Lord have mercy, that was not the husband.

The young man had dark hair and was dressed in an Army uniform, much like my own man would have been in our youth. It looked like him. Kinda. I laughed all the way across the house as I thrust the picture into the face of the husband and asked, "Who is this man and why am I keeping a picture of him?" His eyes flashed recognition in a matter of seconds as he rattled off his name and asked where in the world I had found it. I told him my story and we both came to the conclusion that at some point, it had to have fallen out of an album or something and from there... well, obviously I mistook the fellow for the husband and lovingly placed him in my ribbon-tied stash.

A long story, I know, and probably one of those that just isn't funny if you're not the one in it. Nevertheless, I tend to find meaning in everything and my take from this story was two-fold:

A). Maybe bifocals aren't the devil, and
B). This is how family tales get started.

If, in fact, my future grandchildren were trying to figure me out long after I'm gone, can you imagine the stories that would have unfolded due to the discovery of grandma's mystery man? I suppose it would have spiced up a rather ordinary life.



*Dedicated to my own grandma, no mystery man in her life,
 but two good men who loved her. Gone from this world nine years today.

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. =)

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.  =)

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.=)

Distractions of a Cedar Chest

Do you ever spend most of the day cleaning only to look around and see that nothing is actually... well, clean ? That has been my day and it has by no means been a lazy day, but good grief. I might as well have spent the day on the couch doing nothing.

I woke up at eight.
Had two cups of coffee.
Spent close to an hour online with my mom.

Made a late breakfast or an early lunch, depending on your point of view.
Started laundry. Changed sheets. Cleared the floor of clothes and shoes.

Let the daughter dive into the cedar chest.

And that's where things got a little out of whack. You see, that cedar chest is full of treasures. Baby blankets. Baby pictures. Baby dresses. Dolls. Cabbage Patch Kids. My first pair of glasses, circa 1978.

We looked at pictures from my basic training, the husband's basic training, and our early years together. I pointed out that in both group pictures from my basic and technical training, I am standing by the very girl my husband-to-be dated in his high school years and was very much infatuated with. This little known fact came to light one day when he drove to my base to pick me up for a date. I let him in my room, finished doing whatever I was doing, and turned around to see a rather pale-looking face holding a framed picture and looking at me in disbelief. He asked me how well I knew the girl I was standing next to in the photo. Rather well, was my reply. He shook his head in disbelief and we moved on in life. To this day, we still laugh about that moment and wonder at the odds of such a thing happening. Considering we grew up a thousand miles from each other, joined two different branches of the military, and trained on two separate coasts... I'd say the odds are pretty slim.

So that little story, though retold many times before, was at least one distraction of the day.

We found a pair of crocheted baby shoes that belonged to the husband. A crocheted baby hat and sweater that came from a great-uncle. A crocheted stocking cap that was made by a grandma. Crocheted blankets. Quilted blankets. Embroidered blankets. School pictures. Report cards. Lots of construction paper artwork.

And still not a wedding album to be found.

I finally had to walk away, leave the memory feast to the daughter, and carry on with the laundry. I've yet to vacuum. We did manage to squeeze in the mandatory grocery run and hit up Sonic for happy hour. A strawberry limeade and sunny weather make a Saturday a little more complete.

Even if the housework is not.

My Thoughts On The Election, Steam Mops, and Those Eggs That Didn't Hatch

The Election.

Sheesh. Can I just say I'm glad it's over? My candidate of choice did not make it to the Oval Office and I have grave concerns about the man who currently sits in that seat, but... well, assuming all went according to design in terms of our electoral process, this is a democracy in which we live. I remember thinking Bill Clinton would usher in the end of the world with his second term. Granted, the current guy makes Bill Clinton look good to me, but hey... life and arguments and unemployment shall continue on.

Steam Mops.

There is something therapeutic about the steam of a plugged-in mop. Vacuuming and cleaning in general can help clear my mind, but when a dirty hardwood floor falls prey to steam and a good squirt of OrangeGLO for Hardwood Floors... well, let me just say that I feel rather accomplished right now. Oh, I know by the time the kids roll in and supper is finished and the nightly snack is consumed those floors will have lost the gleaming luster they hold at the moment, but for now, I am at peace.

Those Eggs That Didn't Hatch.

If you're lost on this one, back up to the last post (it had to do with cake, I believe). Whatever eggs I heard crackin' were not meant for me. I shut down on life-as-I-know-it for a good twenty-four hours, I guess. Even big girls need time to recover. Like the husband said, though, I'll do what I always do: Get Back Up. Probably the only ones who have a clue what the husband and I are going through (in terms of finances) are my parents and if they say I'll be all right, well then, I will be all right. Between them and God Almighty Himself, this thing can only end on a positive note.



Even another term of Barack Obama can't change that.

Priorities

This is the day the Lord hath made, and the day that I have successfully pushed everything I wanted to do yesterday. Such a procrastinator, I am. In the next twelve hours, I am hoping to cram in quite a few things:

A muffin and coffee. Church. A visit to our southern grandma. Lunch. Laundry. Pull fall stuff from the attic. Place fall stuff around the house. Another cup of coffee. Sit on the swing. Read. Clean my bedroom. Vacuum. Grill out chicken. Clean the kitchen. Sit on the couch.

In the midst of all that, I have to mentally prepare myself for another week of substitute teaching in a somewhat challenging class, throw some bills in a hat and see who gets paid this week, and try to be a pleasant person to be around.

This is why I go to church when I could stay home and get started early.

I need all the help I can get.

My Day Does Not Include Falling Asteroids

This morning the middle and I head to the doctor for a quick check of his hand. He had yet another longboarding incident last Friday (my mom knows this now so I'm free to talk) and what should have been a minor fall landed him in the ER for an unsightly wound on his right hand. Three hours and five stitches later, we went home with the question, "Are you gonna tell Granny about this?" Doesn't a granny always find out, though? There is very little I don't tell my mom and when it comes to my kids... well, there isn't anything I don't tell her (as my kids think, WHAT?!). At any rate, his hand is pretty swollen at the moment and feels warm to the touch, so off to the doctor we will go. I'm expecting a prescribed round of antibiotics and a morning drop-off at school. It's going to be too nice of a day to sit around in a doctor's office.

And a nice day it will be, indeed. Temps back up to the mid-70s have me planning on opening every window in the house and doing some serious cleaning. I'm not proud to say that I have let this house go in the last week or so, but an afternoon of me staying focused ought to change that. I've been spending most afternoons sitting outside reading my literature homework which, for the most part, I have really enjoyed. The house (and the fridge) have suffered, though. I haven't been grocery shopping since last week and today we are officially out of sugar. What Sweet Italian Creme is for my coffee, a cup and three-quarters worth of sugar is necessary for our tea. The family will slip into a slow meltdown if I don't have a pitcher of the state drink of the south on hand for them to sip.

On a random note, the youngest was informing me this morning of solar flares while the husband was telling me yesterday about asteroid insurance. We stood under the stars for the longest time last night talking a universe that is too big for us to know everything about.

And I can't even venture down that road right now.
I've got too much to get done today that leaves no room for philosophy.
Besides, I'd rather enjoy the world than analyze it.

Happy Cleaning!

Losing Track Of Time

I looked at the date of my last entry and have been trying to figure out what I have been doing in the past week. I'm thinking a whole lot of nothing... and a whole lot of everything. Know what I mean?

I've been watching what started out as just a few blooms on this tree literally explode with flowers in just a matter of a couple of days. Beauty can be deceiving, however, as we all know. This tree, as pretty as it may seem, stinks horribly when in bloom. The oldest compares the stench to that of wet cement... not pleasant at all. Speaking of the oldest, he is still job searching and watching his savings account dwindle and worrying about his friend, the one we had as a surprise guest not long ago. Her situation has only deteriorated since she last stayed with us and it's hard to look your child in the eye and admit that you don't know what to do about the whole thing.

I've spent a lot of time of the front porch reading schoolwork (see next picture), listening to kids talk, and occasionally letting the cat out. Although we had a lot of rain over the weekend, we thankfully dodged all the rough weather that seemed to envelope most of the nation, the Midwest and eastern half, anyway. The husband is currently in the midst of digging and planning a storm shelter and is bewildered by my insistence that I am more afraid of being underground than I am in the wide open. Personally, I don't know why we have these discussions anyway because I can assure you, I am no fool. I've watched the footage on the news. I've looked at the pictures online. I have no doubt that if our home or neighborhood or county was under an imminent threat of a tornado, my petty fears would vanish and I would be knocking someone out of the way to get underground (sorry, kids).

Here is all that reading I was talking about (ignore the obvious dusting that needs to take place). My nook is buried under everything that must come before it; for that reason it hasn't seen the light of day for at least a week. I am in the middle of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, or maybe the title is the other way around, and I must say that I am not impressed. This is one of those rare occasions when I hope the movie is better than the book. Snore. As far as my schoolwork goes, though, SIX (and a half) weeks left. I received great news last week in the form of a job doing substitute teaching work. I am excited and nervous and scared about the whole college thing coming to an end, but the day I hold that degree in my  hand will be a happy day indeed.

And not to leave out the other cat (you're welcome, daughter), this is where she spends much of her time. Sometimes it's there by choice... that cat loves watching the birds, and sometimes it's there due to a cat-imposed time-out... yes, having this cat is like having a small child in the house. Looking at this picture reminds of something that I devoted an entire day to last week and that was cleaning the screened-in porch. I was reluctant to do so because I noticed the pine trees have the tell-tale signs of what I call baby pine cones. All that means is that in a matter of weeks everything will be covered in a fine, yellow pollen to the extent that even twice-a-day sweepings will not control it.  I never experienced anything like it until I moved south. It's one of my least favorite things of spring.

So I've been busy with cleaning and reading intermingled with lounging on the front porch and just generally dealing with life as it comes. I look at the calendar and find it impossible that we are already five days into the third month of the year. It seems like February was just getting started.

Time flies when you're having fun.

I Look Good In My Dreams

I woke up this morning, threw back a couple of cups of coffee, popped a roast in the slow cooker, and tied a red handkerchief around my head. For me, that can only mean one thing... serious cleaning is on the agenda for the day. With the help of the husband, we packed up Christmas, organized the attic, and got things back to their pre-holiday state. We've got bags for the trash, bags for Goodwill, and bags under my eyes (no makeup kinda day). My hair is flat, my nail polish chipped, and my feet sore.

Boy, am I glad that's over with.

Tomorrow the kids head back to school and I'll pick up where I left off in the middle of an economics class. Fourteen weeks to go. That's fourteen (give or take) assignments, fifty-some questions to fuddle my way through, and a couple more thousand dollars to add to the I.O.U. I caught myself daydreaming today about when I do officially finish. Needless to say, I can only hope I look half as good accepting the job of my dreams as I did in that brief, three-minute fantasy trip.

It was the happiest three minutes of my whole day. =)

Confetti Between My Toes

So the new year has begun. I'm exhausted already.

We stayed up too late with good times and good friends followed by the booming thunder of fireworks that popped and sparkled till well after midnight. The kids, most likely one in particular, covered the living room floor with confetti and had a horn blowing contest from the front porch with the people across the street. We still made it to church with time to spare this morning, had a filling lunch afterward that pretty much did me in, and drifted home with zero motivation.

The confetti is still on the floor.
The tree has yet to be undecorated.
And I think there may still be leftover (last night) pizza in a box on the counter.

I could really care less.

This is the last day of spring-like weather and windows wide open for at least a week or so. The wind is already starting to pick up bringing with it colder temperatures. I'm thinking all the mess that surrounds me will still be there tomorrow. A roast in the crock pot is sounding like a good plan. Of course, that means I'll have to find time to change out of these pajama pants to troll the aisles of the grocery store. That might be the biggest challenge of my day.

Life is pretty good, though, for this first day of January.
The message this morning was encouraging and timely.
And the Atlanta Falcons are off to a scarily awesome start.

Positive thinking, people.

I Am A Housewife

So far this morning I have...

Watched three kids get ready for school with zero complaining.
Made a 45-minute commute one way through three separate school zones.
(That same route going home only took eight minutes... yes, I am a clock watcher).

Did a rush job on my hair and makeup to hang out with the husband.
Sat in a VA waiting room watching a bunch of older male vets watch Rachel Ray.
(And I am not lying when I say all heads perked up at the sound of bra advice).

Took up space at our local downtown Waffle House.
Listened to waitresses gripe about their customers and government vouchers.
(Who were complaining that $675 in government monthly housing aid wasn't enough).

Came home to a quiet house and two wound-up cats.
Sat on the front porch swing taking in the breeze.
(And promised myself I would start cleaning the house at noon).

Twelve o'clock on the dot (okay, technically three minutes past).
Time to fire up the vacuum and scare a few cats.

I absolutely love this day.

Diet Is A Dirty Word

The house has been cleaned thanks to a girl who is hoping for some mall spending money and a brief moment of guilt that found me relaxing in the a/c with a new book while the husband is out in this ridiculous heat. As a result, the counters are spotless, the floors shine, all furballs have been vacuumed, and stray papers have been tossed. That all should last until about six o'clock tonight, or until the oldest finishes nuking his mac-n-cheese.

After tonight I will once again be a married woman. My wedding rings have been hidden away at the jewelers awaiting a re-sizing that has been a few years in the making. A couple of weeks ago, my husband got tired of seeing me without a wedding band and promptly hauled me (and the rings) to the jewelry store. In the past eighteen-plus years, my ring size has increased and it got to the point where I could no longer just blame it on periodic swollen fingers. My ring finger was measured (no wonder they didn't fit anymore), a new diamond selected (the husband's idea, I promise), and the bill was paid (while he looked the other way).

Of course, that was the same week the same husband lost his job.
Timing is everything, isn't it?
At least we have a ring to pawn if we need to.

Ha! Like that would ever happen. Other things would go first. I'm thinking every electronic gadget for starters (sorry kids), but like I tell the family, let's not dwell on such things now. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. At any rate, tonight is the night we pick up the rings. I told him he would have to put them on my finger and mean it this time (another joke). The original plan was to have a nice dinner out. Now we're thinking more along the lines of a shared gyro and fries at the food court in the mall. It's all about priorities.

House payment.
Electric bill.
Then maybe we can eat.

Speaking of eating, what is about a clean house that makes one kid want to cook while another eats chips in the living room? I would say something, but I'm thinking of coffee and cake and my cozy spot on the couch. Yeah. That's the ticket. Coffee with rich creamer and a piece of butter cake slathered with chocolate frosting while thinking about a set of rings that no longer fit. Hey, at least I see things for how they are: I'm not afraid of the truth; I'm just slow to react to it sometimes.

I won't think about that today.
I'll think about that tomorrow.
Wasn't I suppose to be starting a spin class sometime?

Now the house no longer smells lemony fresh. There's a strange, toxic mixture of the beforementioned mac-n-cheese and doritos now combined with the distinct odor of ramen noodles. Can somebody please crank up the Glade Plug-Ins? When does school start? Drat these kids who always want to eat.

Wait a minute...

I think I was going for a piece of cake.

Weather Watching And Glowing Hardwood

As if I needed a reminder that distance between family members stinks, I got one tonight. Googling weather information while checking a cell phone fifty thousand times does not make for a peaceful evening. I told my husband this is exactly why we all need to be in one central location. His response was only to indicate that if that was the case, we would all go together. At least I wouldn't have to wonder and wait.

Other than that, it's been a relatively calm day. I've had things on my mind which can only result in one thing: a very clean house. Not a speck of laundry (okay, maybe a stray sock or two... or seven, but hey, you can actually see the bottom of the laundry basket). The hardwood floors practically glow, the toilets have been scrubbed, and I even dusted the ceiling fans. Yep. When this mind gets troubled, the house definitely benefits.

School work? Well, I'm not that desperate for distraction. It will get done when it always gets done... sometime around late Sunday evening. Six elective courses left. I'm taking fun stuff like constitutional law and homeland security. Yeah, I know... my mind is a little twisted in terms of what I label fun. What can I say? There has got to be a reason why HE has wired me the way He has... I just keep waiting to see what that reason might be.

And if nothing else?
Well, I make a darn good housewife.
And I'm not afraid to admit it.

Did I mention my hardwood floors glow?

My Windows Are Shiny

And so comes another holiday not at Grandma or Aunt Patty's house. I don't know who this bothers more... me or my girl. Just when I think I'm settled where I'm at, another pesky holiday dinner rolls around. Just when I think I can do this, my girl sighs that heavy sigh and says Wouldn't you trade everybody for Granny and Pa, or to eat at Aunt Patty's, or to talk to Grandma one more time?

That girl is just like her mama.

This is not a day for depressing thoughts, though, for this is the day Christ arose. I was thinking about a little Catholic church not far from our house. Friday night we were on our way to dinner with some friends when we passed a production (I guess that's what you'd call it) out in their field right by the main road. Roman soldiers in all their centurion glory, Pilate sitting high on a platform, three lonely crosses in the distance. The sight made a vehicle full of laughing adults silent for a brief moment in time. Yesterday I noticed everything had been cleared from the field except for a lone tomb set off in a far corner. A large, round stone covered the front. I know without looking that stone has been rolled away this morning.

So this definitely cannot be a depressing day.

Yesterday I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned some more. I could have stopped with my usual housecleaning (you know, the dust/sweep/vacuum run-through), but I thought of my grandma and what she would have me do. She would want me to have my house sparkling for my husband's family; not in a perfection type of thing, but a make-him-proud type of thing. Why is it I always think of her when I wash my windows? I could hear her in the back of my mind, You really need to wash those blinds, too.

I know this, Grandma, but I don't have the time.

Then I sat out little glass dishes (my mom loves anything glass) full of jelly beans in the living room and back screened-in porch (Aunt Patty loves all those little touches). I fixed up my cute, little Sprite and Coke bottles in a bowl (again for Aunt Patty) and scattered pastel, plastic eggs filled with candy and quarters throughout the house (just because I thought it was cute). By the time nine o'clock rolled around and my husband offered to shred the bar-be-que pork (thank God for little miracles), I collapsed in the recliner with my aching feet up (just like my mom).

Was it all worth it?

I think so. Even if everybody bailed (little miracles again?) and nobody showed up for dinner, my house is clean, we've got food we love waiting in the fridge, and my daughter amazed herself and us with the cutest bunny cake. All in all, I think we've had a pretty good weekend already. I still have one more paper to write that hovers over me like a dark cloud, but I'll knock that out easy enough later this evening. The birds are singing outside and the cat has already taken care of his daily yak (ohhhh, that cat). And did I mention the tomb is empty?

My grandma would want me to be nice today.
My mom would insist upon it.
And Aunt Patty would talk about it all later.

It's almost like they're all here anyway.

Happy Resurrection Sunday!

Magic In A Cup

If I had three wishes this morning, they would be:

My kitchen would always stay clean.
My social calendar would always be full.
My life would never change.

Of course, that third wish would completely cancel out the first two.

My kitchen never stays clean. Seriously. The only time it looks spotless and fresh off the page of a magazine is between the hours of 10-3pm and then quite possibly for a full hour after the supper dishes are done. Cabinet doors are always left open, empty cereal boxes sit on a shelf, and drained orange juice containers sit on the counter right above the trash can. Like six inches. I will never figure that one out. Or the empty cereal boxes inside the cabinet. These are the little things that drive me crazy.

My social life is non-existent. I don't have lunch with friends. I'm not in any clubs or on any committees. I am a homebody. The biggest thing added to my life lately is a new walking routine that a friend and I are doing. And I wouldn't even call it a routine, more like when we are both home at the same time kind-of-thing. I enjoy it just the same, though. My evenings typically consist of running interference between the three kids or transporting a desperate reader to the library for a new book. Any type of break from that is a welcome break.

I was talking to myself this morning after I dropped off the kids at school. Grumbling about open cabinet doors and wasted gas and how I am not picking up anybody's underwear even if their girlfriends are coming over tonight. I put my planned grocery store trip on hold so I could come home and breathe and find that magic that somehow exists in the first cup of coffee. The cat followed me out to the screened porch and watched in fascination as I grumbled even more while shaking pollen from the cushions. While the coffee was brewing I plopped down and looked around.

That's when it hit me. For all my grumbling about the kitchen and dirty underwear and kids that I think don't appreciate their mother, I wouldn't change a thing. All those things that drive me crazy remind me that I have what I always wanted.

A good man.
Children.
My own home.

If the kitchen stayed clean and my social life was overflowing, I might be missing out on the very things that, for me, make my life complete. No kind of perfection is worth that.

I told you there was magic in that first cup.
Coffee makes the world go round.
But I'm still not picking up dirty underwear.

My Toilet Sparkles

I do my best thinking while cleaning. Today the toilet had my attention and let me tell you, that room is spotless. There are some perks to having stuff on your mind, I guess.

I was thinking about our house last night. It was a typical evening. Every one was off in their own little virtual world. We had three computers going, one nintendo dsi glowing, and two televisions blabbering. Well, one tv was muted so I'm not sure if that counts or not. Actually I'm not even sure why that one was on. Some things just seem to come on automatically when anyone is home.

The point is that everyone was absorbed in what they were doing and I was having a minor pity party in the midst of it all. No one noticed.

Now this is not about me getting noticed or feeling like nobody cared. Part of me was glad that my tears went unnoticed. Of course, there was that other part that was screaming Hello!! Mother in need here!! But we won't spend any time on that.

I was just a little amazed that in a house full of people, we really had no idea what the other was thinking. It made me stop and wonder how many times my kids have been troubled or worried or maybe just lonely while I am busy reading or farming or deleting chain emails.

I love technology. I don't understand it all, but I love it. Webcams, instant chat, digital cameras... I love how all that keeps me in real-time touch with my family and friends, but I also miss handwritten letters and cards in the mail. An e-card, no matter how cute,  just can't compare with a Hallmark that comes in an envelope delivered straight to your mailbox.

I know when I send a card, a lot of thought goes into it. I use my best penmanship and always try to include a specific scripture verse or saying, anything to make it personal. I like things like that. I guess it's that human touch.

Maybe I'm just thinking this way because I needed that human touch last night. Maybe it's the Clorox fumes from the toilet bowl cleaner. Who knows.

But I think I will make an extra effort to be more conscious about what's going on around me. I would hate to miss out anybody's pity party.

Especially if it's right in my own living room.

My Stinky Clean House

The pain that began when I left the orthodontist today has evolved into a pretty bad smell.

Let me explain.

The pain was not physical... unless you count the sharp pains shooting though my chest and the nagging headache that was part of me most of the morning.

The pain was in my wallet. Or empty wallet, I should say. And not to worry, the sharp pain in my chest part is probably more of an exaggeration, but you get the idea. The headache, though, was very real.

So I did what I always do when I am bothered by something.

I clean.

I started in one corner of the living room and was stuck there for quite sometime. Normally I do a quick dusting with my handy dandy swiffer, but days like today required the use of actual furniture polish and an old rag. Then, just to be sure that I was completely too preoccupied to think about anything important, I actually removed items before I dusted. That's is a big deal for me, just ask my mom. I can still remember all the times at home when she would lift stuff to see if I dusted underneath them. Some things never change.

So I dusted and organized and dusted some more. I moved plants around and played with the cat and took a long time getting the mail. I cleaned off my dresser and counted how many Bibles I had and organized my greeting card collection. I found a long lost picture of my husband and me with our first baby boy.

Now that has been a while back.
Especially when you consider what our family looks like today.

As you can see, I get a little sidetracked but for today, that was a good thing. My cleaning spree was only interrupted by the changing out of cd's and the picking up of kids at school. By the time my husband got home from work, the house was spotless, the laundry was done, and Tombstone pizzas were baking in the oven.

The orthodontist problem, however, had not been solved.

So I decided to utilize the self-cleaning feature of my oven since it was already hot from the pizzas. Hence the bad smell. Now our (clean!) house just stinks and we still have a girl that needs braces.

Good thing the quote they gave me is good for six months. That's plenty of time to clean and organize and think.

She can have straight teeth once I finish with the attic.

New Dishes, Barbeque, and Andy Griffith

Well, I am still sitting on the only clear spot on the couch, but progress on the after-Christmas mess was accomplished today. The totes and boxes that littered the floor last night are now neatly piled waiting for some lucky boy to haul them up to the attic. The pine needles have been vacuumed and to celebrate having a clutter-free dining room table again, we enjoyed a steak dinner on new dishes. One problem with having new dishes, though, is having to find a place to put those new dishes.

In fact, that is the process that takes a while... finding new homes for all the new little knick-knacks that made their way to my home via Christmas presents. I got a couple of new scent warmers and it's always a challenge to strategically place those types of things in our small house, but they sure do smell good. The dishes required me to do a little rearranging of the cabinets which then required an impromptu family gathering in the kitchen for me to point out the changes that had been made (a necessary step when the kids are in charge of the dishes and don't really care if the plastic cups are mixed in with the glass ones).

All this cleaning and rearranging and organizing has been good for me, I think. I've been making a conscious effort to think positive regardless of the unchanged circumstances. Yes, I realize that we're only into day two of this new way of thinking, but it sure feels good for a change. Tomorrow might be a whole other story. My husband goes back to job he despises and the "first day back to school" will have lost its excitement for the kids. I've already got a game plan, though. It's called barbeque pulled pork sandwiches. Guaranteed to put a smile on all faces in this family.

My daughter just called out from the kitchen, I love how you organized the bowls, Mom. She's baking again. Baking and watching Andy Griffith. I don't know how many twelve-year old girls out there watch the clock for The Andy Griffith Show, but she is one of them. And if I can make her life easier in the kitchen by keeping the bowls organized, then so be it. She makes my life easier by keeping me supplied in chocolate.

I've never really been a New Year's Resolution kind of girl, but I might consider some this year:

Stay positive.
Love the Lord.
Practice patience.

Then again, I think I'll wait to see how the rest of the week goes. I can only fix so much barbeque.

Santa Forgot My Maid

After collapsing into bed around 4:00 a.m. following our two-vehicle trip back home, I came back to life around noon. Since that time, I've...

Restocked the refrigerator (not quite).
Unpacked our bags (sort of).
Took down Christmas decorations (almost).

In other words, I haven't really finished anything I started today. I did manage to get a few groceries after a rather scary experience with two-week old creamer in the fridge. My girl was looking for a particular shirt that required me to search my luggage. And the weather was so pretty that I found myself outside taking down lights and garland when my original plan was to do that tomorrow. I made the mistake of going to Lowes with my husband where I spotted some totes boxes on sale. Since I bought a few of those, I figured I might as well take down our tree and pack away the ornaments.

Then I simply ran out of steam. I looked at the Christmas-themed dishes that still need to be washed and glanced at the red and green tablecloth that is currently buried under an assortment of... well, everything and decided I didn't have the energy to even think about anything else.

So I sat down with a fresh cup of decaf and the ever-present brownie. The cat is passing the time by exploring every tote, box, and bag that currently litter the living room floor. Artificial pine needles are scattered everywhere. The only clear spot on the couch is the very place I am sitting.

Welcome home.