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.

If You're A Faithful Couponer, I'll Apologize In Advance

You know, I think about coupons. I'll browse through them every now and then, cut carefully around the dotted lines, and set 'em aside with the very best of intentions. On the rarest of occasions, I'll even actually redeem the blasted things. For the most part, though, all those coupons are good for are cluttering up my desk and collecting dust.

Please don't tell me about binders and page protectors or even handy little wallet-sized organizers that I can file by the expiration date. Believe me, I'm all about dividing stuff and color coding and artsy little labels. I can organize till Jesus comes back and have fun doing it, but all the little crafty ideas of this world will not motivate me to utilized the penny-pinching power of the coupon. I simply don't have the patience.

I know, I know. The convenience of technology. Coupon sites and coupon printing and coupon clubs. No thank you. I've done the e-coupon thing on my grocery customer tracking loyalty card... that's worked every blue moon or so. It's just that most of the time when I actually get to the store, the generic brand (without the coupon) is still cheaper anyway, thus reinforcing the fact that my computer time could have been better spent on more meaningful tasks like facebook or pinterest or blogging.

Yes, I've moaned and groaned because we're tight on money. That may never change. On the plus side, though, I'm not complaining about paper cuts or the cost of printer ink or the impatient lady behind me in the check-out line who let me know in more ways than one she was not impressed with my four-inch binder of coupon glory.

Yeah... so that's never been me. But I have seen those same ladies taking up space in the aisle while they sort through their couponopedia. Of course, I can't brag about how much I've saved either or stock my would-be garage with enough deodorant to supply the entire western hemisphere for the next thirty years, but hey... we've all got our goals in life, right?

And if you're one of those ladies, you're probably telling yourself that I'm just jealous.
You could be right. I think I'm about out of deodorant. I know I don't have a coupon for that.

Are We Done Yet?

I had a feeling this senior year stuff was gonna wear me out. We still have thirty-six hours until the boy actually walks across a stage to accept that coveted diploma and I feel like we've already been through it. I keep reminding myself to enjoy every minute of this... this is HIS time to shine.

But, man oh man, this mama is tired.

Tonight he participated in a completer ceremony at our county tech school. He successfully completed three years in a skills program that has already paved the way for a full-time job he starts on Monday. He was awarded Student of the Year for a second time and we couldn't have been more proud.

But, boy oh boy, do those bleachers wear a person out.

My parents have been here this week as planned and the days seem to be flying by. The last few days my mom and I have been doing some shopping and in each place we go, I stop myself and think, "My mom is here." It sounds silly, I suppose, but there is something comforting about looking over racks of clothes or peering through shelves of trinkets and seeing your mom there. I wish they would never leave.

Tomorrow we will shop some more. Friday we will watch the boy graduate. And Saturday I'm counting on her to help me feed a house full of hungry people while my dad will no doubt entertain an audience that includes impressionable teenagers. I am really looking forward to it all. Mostly, though, I am looking forward to the long nap that is sure to follow.

I think we're all gonna need it.

All About Me

Well, before I throw on my comfy clothes and put another load in the washer, let me tell you about my morning. Not a mom morning or a wife morning, but a me morning. And yes, this is going to be painfully self-centered and selfish and all about me. You have been forewarned. Although I am well aware that my previous post mentioned our mortgage and prayers and all that, rest assured that the following did not come out of the mortgage fund. Every now and then I get a little something-something with my name on it that I tuck it back for a rainy day (mama didn't raise no fool). The rain might not have been falling today, but I broke it out nonetheless.

And boy, did I have fun.

First, I went by our local elementary school for the nice nurse to read my TB results as my final step into the public school system. Once she gave me the all clear, we talked for a little while, I made sure to drop my name and experience a few times, and she complimented me on my hair. In cases like this, red hair is a good thing. People remember you.

After a quick trip to the bank to cash in my rainy day fund, I dropped by my favorite book store and walked out with five books, one t-shirt, and one CD for all under twenty bucks which, by the way, is the only thing I will admit to what I spent (once again, my mom taught me well). After that, a new pair of shoes and some outdoor goodies for the screened-in porch. I topped off the day with a trip to the mall where I wandered aimlessly for over an hour looking at stuff I couldn't afford, but enjoying it anyway. For lunch, I bought a gyro stuffed with seasoned lamb and feta cheese and promptly texted my husband to rub it in.

I'm telling you, it doesn't get much better than that.

So now I'm back home.
The laundry awaits.
I need to plan supper.

And the husband just walked in asking me if I had a good lunch.

Why, yes. Yes, I did. =)

Wanted: A Good Job For A Good Man

Once again I find myself sitting across the table from my husband (reminds me of this time not long ago). His pen is poised in mid-air, his brow is wrinkled as he thinks. Every now and then he sighs heavily and looks at me, trying his best to smile. I watch as he tries to think of the right words. I look up stuff on my laptop when he asks. I've made copies of diplomas and discharge papers and social security cards and anything else that might pop up. And all I can think is, Please, Lord. Let this be the one.

Have you guessed it yet?
Another job application.

He's not afraid of anything. The only thing that worries him is his age. Not gettin' any younger, he says. Maybe not, but you sure are getting better, I reply. That makes him smile for real. Is there any man that doesn't want to be the stud-kinda-hero to his wife? He's talking to a friend of his now on the phone. A good guy he wants to use as a reference. He won't write anybody's name down who he doesn't call to let them know. This is probably about the fourth time he's called this particular guy. I can almost hear the questions the other guy is asking.

How ya doing anyway?
Not too bad.
No luck with a job yet?
No, but I'm still looking.
You holding up okay, though?
Heck, yeah. I've lost weight and my blood pressure is down.

That's the truth, too. Since he got out of that cubicle, he's lost a good fifteen pounds or so and may very well be off his blood pressure meds within the next month. He's less stressed, honestly does smile more... just that absence of a steady paycheck that's the kicker.

His phone call is over.
His pen is back in hand.

Hey, honey? Find me Bob's phone number, will ya?

Please, Lord. Let this be the one.

Making The Best Of It

Many, many miles away today was a small town autumn festival that I would have loved to attended. The oldest and I tossed around the idea of driving in for the weekend, but then (wisely) decided that a twenty-eight hour round trip was a little foolish for a forty-eight hour weekend. Plane tickets just made all of us laugh... $700 a pop per person. Flying last minute simply is not an option. Needless to say, we stayed put and pretty much enjoyed a Saturday nonetheless.

He (the oldest) had a quick lesson in using jumper cables early in the morning. His grandpa talked him through everything via their cell phones and it was quickly determined that the battery was junk. It took him a few hours, but he made the trip to the part store, got the right battery for his truck, and had it fired up and running with only a few glitches in between. It is still hard for me to believe that my firstborn is practically eighteen. He really is quite impressive.

The middle is fighting allergies that he thought he had left behind somewhere in the Midwest. That boy would suffer horribly every spring and fall without fail. He would miss school in the beginning and then again at the end. Nothing would completely help him except the passing of time. Then we moved south and those allergies disappeared. He commented today that he thought they had finally caught up with him. If anything, it's minor compared to what he had before, but still a nuisance. He's a trooper, though.

My youngest helped with a spur-of-the-moment, mini get-together tonight. We had a few friends over for a strictly female gathering and fixed things like cucumber sandwiches and little clubhouse-style bars (basically rolled out croissant dough with chicken on top). That girl and I will either have a great time together or a strained,  Mom, You Are So Weird time. I tried to dance with her to George Strait and she looked at me like I had lost my mind (although between you and me, I think she secretly loved it).

Oh, I wish I could have been walking those crowded festival streets with my mom halfway across the country today, but if I have learned anything, it's that life really is what we make of it. It does me absolutely no good to dwell on how things use to be if I can't enjoy the here and now. I really have nothing to complain about.

Except the job thing.
Yeah, I'm still waiting on that.
Somewhere there's a classroom that is waiting on me.

Please, Lord. Please and Thank You.

Roll Call

When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Call me an old-fashioned girl.
I definitely can't hang long with the contemporary group.
Guess I'll always be a traditionalist at heart.

On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

My grandma took me to church as a little girl.
I still sat by her as an adult (most of the time anyway).
Her voice singing is a permanent recording in my head.

Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Victory In Jesus.
In The Sweet By And By.
Leaning On The Everlasting Arms.

Sing me an old hymn and my eyes will start to water.
One of these days, I'll be sitting by her in church again.
When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there.

Ignoring September

The first day of what I call back to normal is coming to a close as the sun hides behind a rather gray-looking cloud. The oldest rocks his way through whatever game or techno news that's keeping his attention locked on his laptop; the middle is jamming (softly) to his favorite tunes while he bounces back and forth between facebook and his game of choice; and the youngest is behind a closed bedroom door deep in a book that she just started last night. Supper was enjoyed and appreciated and totally consumed by a full table and dishes have been washed, dried, and put away (and not by me!). The husband is on the lawn mower, the dryer is fluffing some towels, and coffee is next on my list. Yep. Things are pretty much back to normal.

Except things are far from normal. We had yet another job loss in our family last week and considering the fact that my husband has been the one with the job... well, it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. God is good, though. A strange peace has pretty much enveloped us since last Wednesday with only a few scattered moments of panic sprinkled in-between. Bills are paid, the cupboards are full, and work has been provided for now. It's anybody's guess what the next few months will bring. I'm predicting September will be an interesting month, but I've been off track before. One thing is for certain, the Lord has a way of always reminding me that's He's the one in charge.

Life goes on. My youngest niece is expecting her first baby to make her arrival within the next twenty-four hours. That will make grandbaby number two for my brother and most likely a lifelong friend for Baby Lily, not to mention a good reason for me to bake cookies tomorrow. It's a strange thing to watch a family grow and transform and begin an entirely new generation. I remember holding these girls when they were babies... the fact that they are now the ones having babies is just crazy. No wonder my grandma's prayer list was so long. Each time a baby was born she would have to add a name to her nightly prayer. Trust me. I witnessed it once before. No one was left out.

Yep. Life goes on. I hear the mower out front trying to beat the rain. My youngest just breezed out her of her room and gave me a passing grin complete with a wrinkled nose. The middle's music just got a little bit louder and the oldest just shot me a smile while plugging in his headphones. I don't know what September might bring, but for now all is right with the world. It's time to go fold the towels and make that cup of coffee.

Tomorrow will be here soon enough.

Laughing While I Wait

For the record, and because I'm feeling especially generous right now, my husband rarely fails in making me feel better. I can have a rough day, be utterly discouraged, and he can brush it all away with a So? Just do it this way. I can be so worked up about things and he can be so laid back about everything. Sometimes it's a good fit and sometimes it drives me crazy; but tonight, it was a very good thing.

It all goes back to me still not having a job and still being in school. I was hoping to finish by this December; it's now looking like it may be to my benefit to finish four months later (in April 2012). On the plus side, I could not be so rushed and push off those student loans a few extra months. I'm obviously not working anywhere anytime soon. On the downside, I really just want to be done. He's got his eye set on a master's for me. Heck, I think he dreams of a doctorate. He really is all about me.

I get so stressed about not working and not bringing in extra income. My heart cried out to the Lord today because I know that I have so much to offer. Do you get that this is not pride here? I know how He has made me. I know when He is smiling on me. I'm telling you people... I love to teach! And write! And talk! Good grief, just give me a classroom with bored stares and heavy sighs. I'll have them singing prepositions and identifying presidents and doing the diagram dance within a matter of weeks. I'm crazy enough to love that stuff.

And yet I wait.
But we were here earlier today.
I promise I won't go back.

My husband. Next to the Lord and my mom and dad, he is my biggest fan. You know, he rarely reads this blog. He just never thinks about it really, but when he does, he always says that same thing. That's really good. A meal hardly ever goes by that he doesn't tell the kids, Boy, your mom can really cook. And most nights when he comes home? The house sure looks nice. Look, I've never claimed to be all about women's rights. I like being a wife. I like being a mom. I find much joy in shiny floors and folded underwear.

Boring? Maybe.
Lonely? Never.
Depressed for long?

Not a chance.

Yep. I had a rough day. Kind of emotional. Up and down. Bills discourage me. Knowing I've been passed over for a job I really wanted? Major bummer. College courses not following my plan only add to my pain. Then again, I could possibly be graduating a month before our oldest graduates high school and I gotta tell you, that kinda made me smile.

I wonder if he'll pose with me in graduation caps?

God has a plan.
My husband makes me laugh.
The kids forgot to do the dishes.

It'll all work out in the end.

So I Wait Some More

How do you handle disappointment?

I tend to cry, pray, and clean. In that order. And I know I should pray first. I'm just telling you, tears come easy to me when no one is looking. So I cry, then I pray. I clean the house. I think outside. And then I have a total meltdown by the washing machine.

The Lord knows me so well. He knows exactly how the whole process will play out. And He knows just when to pat me on the back and tell me everything will be all right. Has He ever let me down? Can't say that He ever has.

The waiting is the hardest part.

Antique Shops, Poo Paper, and Boys That Won't Help

I have a son who is all about technology. You have a question, he's got the answer. The only trick is to catch him in a mood to help. Unfortunately, that can indeed be a tricky thing. Trying to find the right time between any particular game level and an incoming text from his girlfriend can be an almost impossible task. He's on my mind because I have asked him repeatedly to help me with a computer issue. Yesterday I asked him once again. I'm getting the feeling I'm being ignored.

I have these awesome pictures on my phone I would like to transfer to my laptop. I know there's a way. I know there's something around this house to download. I know this because I've seen it. Knowing, though, isn't exactly the same thing as doing. And that is where I get stuck.

I took some pictures of our Saturday. Pictures that were going to go along with the tale I wanted to tell. Pictures that aren't going to happen right now.

For instance, I took some photos of a downtown antique store. There is one particular section that I always get lost in and it has everything to do with the Civil War. I practically drooled over the facsimile copies of the Ordinance of Secession for South Carolina. And yes, I really do stand and read all that. I take the time to look at each signature. I think about the thoughts that must have been going through a man's mind when he took the ink to paper to sign his name. The same holds true for the Declaration of Independence, but we are in the South here. For the time being, it's all about states' rights.

I looked at a large, framed picture of Robert E. Lee and asked my husband what he thought about hanging that in our home. He offered to install special lighting for it. I looked at battle maps and books on generals. I wrote down the titles of diaries I would like to search for. I fondly held buttons from Union and Confederate jackets in my hand. I presented next year's Christmas wish list to anyone who would listen. I genuinely fell in love.

I suppose all this sounds special until you consider the fact this was not the first time I had been to that store. I'll feel the same way the next time I go back. There are just some places that make you feel good.

At another shop I looked at the vintage paintings and photographs. I noticed they were all of women and wondered about each one. We then wandered into a quaint little store full of overpriced purses and scarves. Another store was all about homemade goodies baked especially for pampered pets. One cafe was found dedicated to coffee, another to breweries, another to ice cream. You just gotta love a thriving downtown.

We found an art gallery with paintings available for purchase. I snapped several photos in here. One was of our talented son standing in shock over the price tags on the pieces. That boy could so out-do any of those artists. He was mentally calculating the money he could make. We laughed together over the display of paper products made from recycled horse manure. I definitely took a picture of that. It's just too bad you can't see any of them.

Maybe I'll ask techno-boy again tomorrow for help or maybe I won't. Actually, I should probably wait until he's wanting to do something. It's at those times, I've noticed, that he is most attentive to me. He'll start hanging around acting like he's all interested in the towels I'm folding or the carrots I'm chopping. I'll wait until then to make my move. Hey, do you think you've got time to install that Bluetooth for me?

I'm betting he'll have the time.

Then I'll have my pictures of antique stores and vintage paintings.
High dollar purses and doggie treats.
Teenage boys in art galleries and strange concoctions called poo paper.

Of course, by then none of that will matter.
But at least I'll be prepared for the next outing.
It's all about the timing.

Take The Good When You Can Get It

Ahhhh... Christmas Shopping.

I was wrapping presents this morning when I realized I had nothing for one of the kids. The older they get, the harder they are to buy for. All they want is money. Well, money is no fun to wrap so I set out to do a little shopping.

I'm not much of a shopper. I've said that before. But today I was in the mood and let me tell you, it was one fun day. I called my husband first because I'm a good wife and he makes all the money. He said go for it. Dangerous words.

I was missing my mom as I pulled through the drive-thru for a cheeseburger happy meal. While sitting at a red light eating that cheeseburger happy meal, a car in the lane next to me ran the light and slammed into another car in the intersection. I momentarily thought about turning around and going home. It's things like this that have made me into the homebody that I am. I decided to stick to the plan. And the plan was to shop.

At my first stop I spent a good hour just wandering around and was able to cross a few people off my list. I lingered way too long in the baby section wishing I could buy Little Miss Lily every cute outfit I saw. I even caught myself smiling. A lot. And when I was waiting to check out and people around me were grumbling non-stop, I really didn't mind. Let 'em complain. Today was a good shopping day. 

On my next stop I watched a battle-for-a-parking-spot drama unfold before me. Good thing I don't mind walking. No spot is worth that hassle. I wandered this store for another hour and crossed a few more people off my list. I avoided anything to do with baby and concentrated on the grown-up stuff. The cart I was pushing must have only had three working wheels and the racket it was making was a little embarrassing. It was all good, though. I was on a roll.

I thought of two people on my list who like Starbucks. I like Starbucks. If I have to stop in to pick up an item or two, I might as well have a coffee. Later at home when the table was covered with wrapping paper and boxes and all that goes with it, I thought we might as well order a pizza. I like pizza. Supper was ready as soon as the pizza guy arrived. The day seemed just about perfect.

Then life kicked in. I got mad because kids were grumbling and once my lecture got started it was difficult turn off. My youngest made a comment about red hair and tempers and something about green eyes and fire (not sure where she was going with that one). I threatened to take all the Christmas presents away and ended up in the kitchen saying THIS WAS SUPPOSE TO BE A GOOD DAY! to no one in particular.

Things have calmed down since then unless you count the one kid still grumbling while another one fires off insults through a closed door. I have no desire to address either issue. Instead, I'm going to admire the tree one last time before I climb under an electric blanket and read my newest library book.

Because today was a good day. A good shopping day. And those don't happen very often in my world.

How Many Walmarts Does It Take?

Today started off with a stop at Starbucks and a quest to replace a damaged bike. A bike that was bought, repaired, and thought to be a good shape turned out to be nothing more than a resold lemon.

Walmart Stop #1: Broken-beyond-repair bike is returned to the place it came from. The nice lady gives me no hassle and quickly refunds my money. We make the before-mentioned stop at Starbucks and pull up next to the Extreme Makeover Home Edition tour bus at a stoplight. We snap a picture with my phone and wonder if we could convince them to follow us to our house. We decide to stick to the task at hand... the bike.

Bike Shop Stop #2: The first bike shop stop of the day had occurred well before I had my first cup of coffee. This second stop was no better than the first one father and son went to earlier. We are amazed at bikes that are priced from $799-$4000. Crazy. We slip out the door unnoticed.

Walmart Stop #2: We spot a friend's dad and hurry on our way. The desired bike is not inside so we head out to the garden center. The sight takes my breath away. Rows and rows of bikes. Little bikes, big bikes. Mountain bikes, classic bikes. Every kind of bike in every kind of color except for, of course, the one we are trying to find. Discouraged, we move on.

We make a pit stop at a local Goodwill. We love Goodwill, but once you've seen one, you've seen them all. We buy nothing and have to wait in traffic to continue on our way. This pit stop was a bad idea.

Walmart Stop #3: See Walmart Stop #2 (minus the friend's dad part). Defeated, we head for home.

Although once we get home, I have a thought. Why I didn't think of this before is beyond me. I look online. We find the bike and see that another Walmart shows it in-stock. We debate for a few minutes and decide to go for it. The younger two opt to stay at home with the cat. Birthday boy and me hop in the car for yet another Walmart run.

Walmart Stop #4: We find the bike, but in another color. The red sticker tells me the bike has been marked down. It does look like it's been sitting out for a while. We peek under the red sticker to find another sticker that shows a lower price. The bike has been marked up, not down. We look around to find another faded sticker on a torn, water-logged bag (that use to hold the manual) that confirms a lower price. We set out to find somebody that will tell us exactly what this bike is being sold for.

Is anyone else around here tired of the word bike? (pick me! pick me!) This adventure is already into it's fifth hour. All I've had to eat is a doughnut and the earlier latte. Even my boy is starting to wonder if the bike is worth it.

No, I'm thinking. The bike is not worth it. But you are.

I'll save the rest of this story for my forthcoming letter to Bentonville, Arkansas, regarding misleading prices and associates who say they won't sell the bike until their department manager comes in on Monday. I'll be sure to point out, however, that the store manager was very helpful (even though we had to wait so long that our ice-cream cake practically thawed in the cart).

It's all good, though. Yes, we had to wait and yes, it was a shopper's nightmare, but we walked away with smiles. We didn't get the bike in the wrong color with the wrong price with the torn, water-logged bag missing the manual. We walked away with my boy pushing a bike in the right color with the right price with the intact bag complete with an owner's manual. It must of took some digging, but the manager was able to locate the very one he wanted hidden away on some far shelf in the back.

As usual, I had a thought as we were walking out.

It makes me think of God, I told Nick. Like how we want something specific and we ask Him for it, only to have to wait and get impatient and wonder why things never work out. We had to do a lot of searching today, but we stuck with it because I wanted you to have what you wanted for your birthday. In the end, you didn't get a broken bike or one that was different from what you originally saw, but you got a brand-spanking-new one that hasn't even been out on the display rack for people to mess with.

And nobody else's butt has sat on it, he added with a smile.

Exactly, I said. God wants to give us His best if only we will stick with it and not give up.

Silly? Maybe. But that thought cheered me after a whirlwind of a day. Even when we made it to the register and the bike would not ring up, I stayed calm. The boy had his bike and I had my hope. It was all good after that.

A Random Shopping Rant

Have I mentioned before that I'm not a big fan of shopping? Like most things in my life, I have to be in the mood to shop for anything: groceries, clothes, laundry soap... doesn't matter what it is, shopping is just not something I look forward to doing.

I thought today would be a good time to search for a few Christmas items. The kids had an early release day from school, I needed a break from the house, and we got an unexpected check in the mail. By the way, when does that ever happen? Not birthday money or one of those "cash now, pay high interest later" checks, but a real refund-because-of-an-overpayment check that came from the oral surgeon (of all places) that pulled Nick's wisdom teeth back in August. Not a lot, but enough to have a little bit of fun with. So like I was saying, I thought today would be a good shopping day.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

We went to one place, a Christian book store, and by the time I came out of there I had to sit for a few moments while I slowly counted to a hundred in my head. I began to think of medication. Don't they make a pill for this? I booted one kid to the back seat and threatened to use an eject button on the other one. This was not the pleasant afternoon that I had in mind. To try to sum up the hour in which I ended up buying nothing for Christmas, it went sort of like this:

1. The sale items I was looking for (from a catalog I received in the mail today) were not actually on sale until this Friday. I figured that out after I read the fine print.
2. One of the clerks was talking non-stop (and very loudly) about her personal female troubles, if you get my drift. When she got started on her current method of birth control, I found myself embarrassed to be standing by my teenage son.
3. No matter what aisle I wandered down or what corner I turned, I kept running into the same two people. And as luck would have it, everything I wanted to look, they beat me to it. Evidently one was translating for the other because everything (and I do mean everything) had to be read aloud in something other than English. Needless to say, why this might have been necessary, it was also very time consuming.
4. When the time came to pay for the few items the kids picked out, a t-shirt did not have a tag. It took three clerks to consult another clerk who then consulted a computer way in the back. We were asked to step aside.  Meanwhile Nick found an identical shirt that did have a tag, but was in a different size. Although I tried to explain this, we still had to wait on the clerk with our shirt who was still way in the back. When he finally appeared, he gave me a price that was a dollar higher than the one on the shirt with the tag. I asked why the different price. He said different sizes. I pointed out that our shirt was a small while the one with the tag was a large. He shrugged his shoulders and told the girl to ring up the higher price. At this point I am debating how important that dollar is. And thinking about where I am at. And looking at my kids who are watching me. And wondering why I ever thought that this would be a good shopping day.

Well, I did pay the extra dollar because quite frankly, I just needed to get out of there. We managed to make our way toward home without any horn-blowing incidents on the interstate (a common occurrence when I'm behind the wheel) and after a quick run through the grocery store (because the mood to shop was long gone), home never looked so good.

That kid of mine better enjoy his t-shirt.

Post Holiday Blues

I haven't driven my van since I picked the kids up after school on Tuesday. A quick stop at a little shop for a Christmas gift or two and a run into Walmart for milk and cereal reminded me why... I am in no mood to dodge people cramming into too crowded aisles for assorted holiday goodies.

Thanksgiving Day I did so well. Smiled the whole way through even up to the time I went to bed. It really was a good day. The next morning just went downhill, though, and I haven't been able to kick it since.

I could blame it on that joke of a group my husband calls a family (Grandma excluded). She called Friday to tell him what all he had missed the day before. She means no harm by it... just talking about everything like she always does. The short of the story is he stood up to an abusive father long ago and has since been the black sheep of the family. I tell him they're like the mafia without the drugs or money. Seriously. You go against the godfather, you go against the whole family. That's how we ended up where we are now... a firstborn son trying to make amends with his dying (well, that's what we were told, but it turned out not to be true) father. We moved nine hundred miles to be with family that had no intention of being our family.

And then the housing market fell. Talk about bad timing.

I could blame my mood on the instant pressure to shop that immediately follows Thanksgiving. This time of year always brings up the how in the world are we going to do this anyway feeling. I even had a tough time decorating yesterday. Thank the Lord for my girl. I knew she was counting on it, so we had no choice but to go into action. And then the oldest took it upon himself to decorate the front porch (even when I told him we could just skip it this year). After it was all said and done, I had to admit that it just felt better to see the tree in all its glory. Something about pulling out those handmade ornaments from long ago reminded me of the family we are building now. Not to mention the fact that I realized that the number of years those same ornaments will by on my tree is severely limited... where has the time gone?

Yeah, and I miss my mom. It's that Saturday thing again.

Sometimes it stinks being the grown-up. If I could hide out in my room and not have to think about supper or laundry or breakfast for the morning, this would be the time I would do it. My mom says I'm the glue that holds the family together. Sometimes I think that glue is getting ready to crack. So much for being the grown-up.

Pretty sad, huh? How one person go from the perfect day to this is just a tad bit pathetic, in my opinion. And yet, that is where I am at. Love it or hate it, life never seems to run at the same pace. My dad was talking the other day about paths that take you off the road you should be traveling on. My path has most definitely made a detour on the woe-is-me dead end. I suppose I better turn around.

There are other things to think about: a girl in a school play, a son turning seventeen, a boy and his stump (now that will be a great story!). We have a new baby to shop for this year and a much anticipated trip home just around the corner. And, since I'm looking on the brighter side of things, if my clothes are always feeling like they have shrunk in the dyer, well... I guess that's a pretty good reason to go shopping for myself. There are worse things in life.

At least my family likes me.

A Tale of Shampoo

I spent at least fifteen minutes in the shampoo aisle today trying to figure out what would be the best buy. I needed shampoo and conditioner, my daughter needed shampoo and conditioner, and one son needed shampoo (no thanks to the conditioner). Do I even need to mention how quickly that stuff adds up? I've heard all the pros about buying salon-quality products and believe me, I get it. I mean, I don't get it as in actually paying the higher prices for the stuff, but get it as in I really do think there is a difference. My hair feels better, behaves better, and (according to my husband) smells better. Unfortunately, salon quality does not fit a Suave budget.

So I stood there trying to read the fine print regarding how many ounces are in a bottle versus the cost. I ignore all the promises about what any particular kind can do (Sleek! Shiny! Curly! Wavy!)... my thought is that it's all the same in different colored bottles. After much time and thought and sniffing of the different scents of fruity goodness, I had five bottles in my cart that satisfied my economy requirement.

This same scenario was repeated in the toothpaste aisle, the shaving cream aisle, and the paper towel aisle. Don't get me wrong, I'm not that indecisive about most everyday items; but my teeth are suddenly sensitive, my husband is picky about his shaving products, and my daughter is still a little miffed that I don't use the paper towels that her science project proved was the most absorbent. Most things are a no-brainer for me: brand name toilet paper, dishwasher detergent, coffee, and mayonnaise; store brand everything else. We all have our little quirks.

For now, though, the shopping is complete until we run out of everything at the same time again. Then I will once again be that lady taking up space in the aisle with calculator in hand. All that trouble just to save a few bucks... hey, I gotta fund my Starbucks habit somehow.

A Waffle Kind of Night

Tonight we had waffles for supper.

Life changing statement, huh?

We had waffles for supper because the cook (that would be me) was wanting something quick and easy for supper. Having bounced back from a rough few days, cooking the usual meal of meat and potatoes held no appeal for me. Waffles seemed like a quick fix. Of course, I forgot how long you have to wait in between waffles.

The kids love those Belgium waffles. The problem is you can only do one at a time. That leaves a whole lot of thinking time while watching the steam rise.

When the first one was ready, I yelled, "First one's up!" A kid came running. That kid was done eating by the time I yelled, "Second one's ready!" As I was plating the third one, the second kid was bringing his plate to the sink while the third one sat down at the table with a book (like mother, like daughter). As she was finishing, my husband was on stand-by with his plate in hand. By the time he was finished, I was just unplugging the waffle maker and sitting down at the table. By now, an empty table.

Having pity on me, I suppose, my husband sat down with me to lend his moral support, I guess. I was a little uncomfortable, though, being stared at while I spread butter on my waffle, sprinkled it with chocolate chips, and poured thin, generic syrup over my now dessert-like concoction. After about two bites and much to his relief, I'm sure, I said, "You don't have to sit with me." He waited it out for about a minute and a half for good measure and then gracefully left the room.

I was alone. Just my waffle and me. I wondered if my parents were having company tonight. I thought about my grandma. I wondered if it might rain. Glancing through the want ads, I wondered if I would ever have I job that I loved again.

Darn those waffles. Had I made our typical supper, there would have been no time for thought in between the cooking, the eating, the what-happened-at-school-today conversations, and the clean-up.

God is good, though. Patience is a virtue and all that. My thinking time is over. The waffle iron is cool. Dishes are in the sink.Three kids are looking at the clock and looking at me. "Aren't we going to church?"

With a nod of my head, they head out the door. The oldest already has the keys in his hand. Guess he's planning on driving. The younger two are bickering about something. Life continues as usual.

December will come soon enough. I'll see my grandmothers again. The flash of lightning and low rumble of thunder confirms that it just might indeed rain. And I'm starting to get the feeling that this unemployed journey  I have found myself on is just another road to something else the Lord has in store. None of that can be a bad thing.

Guess those waffles were a good idea after all.