I am watching a football game and rapidly losing my good sense of humor. I blame it all on the husband. I could have cared less about football until he moved me to a place where football is king. Now my Saturdays are spent on the college side and my Sundays with the NFL. My only saving grace is we are antenna-only television so if it's a mid-week game, I don't have access.
Thank God.
Another interception. My good humor is gone.
I've made good use of the red power button on the remote.
I might as well get back to laundry... at least that's something I can control.
Until next weekend anyway.
Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Monday, December 17, 2012
Obituary Of A Laptop
It's been six months since my laptop was put out of commission due to an uncooperative power button, a sincere attempt to fix it that only made things worse, and lots of.... well, I'm gonna stop right there. No need going to into all the statements that have been made to look at it or fix it or get the parts ordered. If you read my last post, then you know that we, as a family, are getting along uncommonly well. I'll spare the names and promises to prolong the peace and good humor that currently exists in my home.
However.
If I had known that my beloved laptop would still be collecting dust while taking up space behind my bedroom door, I would have gladly paid the questionable computer-fixer-guy at the flea market his requested one hundred and twenty-five bucks to fix the darn thing back in July.
Then again, it is only a laptop. Maybe I shouldn't place so much stock in the crazy gadget. I mean, it's only holding prisoner a resume or two, pictures, family fun stuff, essays, power points, and a working version of Microsoft Office. It's really not important to anyone but me. Surely my patience should be greater.
I used to think things like When I start getting a regular paycheck, I will buy a couple of new pillows and some rugs for the kitchen and maybe some jeans for the kids and definitely stock up that freezer.
Now I think to myself,
When I start getting a regular paycheck,
IF we haven't had our internet service terminated,
And the lights and water are still connected,
Assuming the refrigerator still contains a gallon or two of milk...
THEN I will have that blasted laptop fixed.
And everyone said, Amen.
However.
If I had known that my beloved laptop would still be collecting dust while taking up space behind my bedroom door, I would have gladly paid the questionable computer-fixer-guy at the flea market his requested one hundred and twenty-five bucks to fix the darn thing back in July.
Then again, it is only a laptop. Maybe I shouldn't place so much stock in the crazy gadget. I mean, it's only holding prisoner a resume or two, pictures, family fun stuff, essays, power points, and a working version of Microsoft Office. It's really not important to anyone but me. Surely my patience should be greater.
I used to think things like When I start getting a regular paycheck, I will buy a couple of new pillows and some rugs for the kitchen and maybe some jeans for the kids and definitely stock up that freezer.
Now I think to myself,
When I start getting a regular paycheck,
IF we haven't had our internet service terminated,
And the lights and water are still connected,
Assuming the refrigerator still contains a gallon or two of milk...
THEN I will have that blasted laptop fixed.
And everyone said, Amen.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
The Curse of the Opossum
I am thankful for the husband every day, but I'm especially thankful for his presence any time there's an insect problem or a backed-up sewage system or an uncooperative vehicle. As of last night, I have one more interesting item to add to the list.
A renegade opossum.
We had just went to bed when the middle knocked on our door with the unusual announcement of a opossum on the back porch. The back screened-in porch. Where the cats were. Yeah... that got our attention real quick.
He was right. As we looked out our back door, there was the freakish-looking, always-creeps-me-out, blood-red eyes of the uninvited guest looking back at us. His (her?) focus was on the cheap, dry cat food I had just put out for the cats. When the weather is nice, we will sometimes leave the indoor cats on the protected (or so we thought) back porch. Of course, there's that pesky hole that's been in the bottom of the screen door for forever, but that shouldn't have been a problem, right?
Wrong.
You can only appreciate the humor that followed if you have been there before or have a good imagination or know our family. The husband grabbed his .22 while the middle rescued the indifferent cats from whatever tragedy might have been waiting. The opossum took one look at the now-armed man and scurried through the hole by which he (she?) entered. In no time, this stealer-of-the-cat-food was cornered, angered, and was no more (and we'll interrupt this description to excuse those of you who might be horrified at the thought of one less opossum on this earth).
What was funny is the fact that just as the shot was fired, I was headed to the room of the youngest to tell her not to panic. About that time, she met me with big, questioning eyes. All I offered was a simple explanation: Dad. Opossum. Back porch. She shrugged her shoulders in acknowledgement and headed back to bed. That made me laugh. Evidently nothing is surprising in this family. The middle assisted in the burial, the mystery of the recent trash can scavenger was solved, and we all went to bed.
Where I dreamed I was a friend of Barack Obama and a University of Georgia football fan.
And now you know why I called this little tale The Curse of the Opossum.
Horrible, horrible dreams.
A renegade opossum.
We had just went to bed when the middle knocked on our door with the unusual announcement of a opossum on the back porch. The back screened-in porch. Where the cats were. Yeah... that got our attention real quick.
He was right. As we looked out our back door, there was the freakish-looking, always-creeps-me-out, blood-red eyes of the uninvited guest looking back at us. His (her?) focus was on the cheap, dry cat food I had just put out for the cats. When the weather is nice, we will sometimes leave the indoor cats on the protected (or so we thought) back porch. Of course, there's that pesky hole that's been in the bottom of the screen door for forever, but that shouldn't have been a problem, right?
Wrong.
You can only appreciate the humor that followed if you have been there before or have a good imagination or know our family. The husband grabbed his .22 while the middle rescued the indifferent cats from whatever tragedy might have been waiting. The opossum took one look at the now-armed man and scurried through the hole by which he (she?) entered. In no time, this stealer-of-the-cat-food was cornered, angered, and was no more (and we'll interrupt this description to excuse those of you who might be horrified at the thought of one less opossum on this earth).
What was funny is the fact that just as the shot was fired, I was headed to the room of the youngest to tell her not to panic. About that time, she met me with big, questioning eyes. All I offered was a simple explanation: Dad. Opossum. Back porch. She shrugged her shoulders in acknowledgement and headed back to bed. That made me laugh. Evidently nothing is surprising in this family. The middle assisted in the burial, the mystery of the recent trash can scavenger was solved, and we all went to bed.
Where I dreamed I was a friend of Barack Obama and a University of Georgia football fan.
And now you know why I called this little tale The Curse of the Opossum.
Horrible, horrible dreams.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Dodge Caravan Meltdown
At the request of the husband, I am posting these pics online for all the world to see. We have a 2003 Dodge Grand Caravan 3.8L Sport (?) that we bought back in 2008 with around 48,000 miles. The odometer currently reads around 108,000 thoroughly-enjoyed miles. With this vehicle, we have something of a love-hate relationship.
We love it because it's paid for and has been for some time.
We hate it because there is forever something going wrong.
Transmission.
Transmission again.
Fuel pump. Front struts. Rear shocks.
There are times when we'd like to throw in the towel and send the blasted thing into some dark, dank, caravan ravine; but for the most part, the husband does all the work himself and all we are out is the cost of parts and a steady supply of pain relievers. Besides, when all things are at the top of their game, the van runs great.
A month ago, though, that ugly gremlin that lives under the hood began to rear its head once more. A constant vibration with no obvious cause and little incentive to pull a hill at 35 mph. It has since sat useless in our driveway except for the daring run the husband made to Auto Zone one night to have it hooked up to a diagnostic computer. No real surprise there... the diagnosis revealed that there was indeed something wrong, but listed a rap sheet of possible causes.
So the man has replaced the plenum (intake, I think) gaskets, valve cover gaskets, mass air flow sensor, oxygen sensor, throttle positioning sensor, spark plugs, spark plug wires, and the fuel injectors. Nothing changed. Tonight he came in tired and frustrated and silently ate the potato soup and grilled cheese I set before him. He walked back out after doing some reading online and five minutes later summoned me and my camera.
This is the fuel injection wiring harness. What's left of it anyway. Even a non-mechanic, non-electrical girl such as myself can guess that I shouldn't be seeing exposed wires.
He was dumbfounded and a little shocked that we hadn't experience any fire problems and kept repeating the same phrase, "I have never seen this before." I was still stuck on the word fire.
Fire?
I am so buying a Mustang once I get a job. =)
We love it because it's paid for and has been for some time.
We hate it because there is forever something going wrong.
Transmission.
Transmission again.
Fuel pump. Front struts. Rear shocks.
There are times when we'd like to throw in the towel and send the blasted thing into some dark, dank, caravan ravine; but for the most part, the husband does all the work himself and all we are out is the cost of parts and a steady supply of pain relievers. Besides, when all things are at the top of their game, the van runs great.
A month ago, though, that ugly gremlin that lives under the hood began to rear its head once more. A constant vibration with no obvious cause and little incentive to pull a hill at 35 mph. It has since sat useless in our driveway except for the daring run the husband made to Auto Zone one night to have it hooked up to a diagnostic computer. No real surprise there... the diagnosis revealed that there was indeed something wrong, but listed a rap sheet of possible causes.
So the man has replaced the plenum (intake, I think) gaskets, valve cover gaskets, mass air flow sensor, oxygen sensor, throttle positioning sensor, spark plugs, spark plug wires, and the fuel injectors. Nothing changed. Tonight he came in tired and frustrated and silently ate the potato soup and grilled cheese I set before him. He walked back out after doing some reading online and five minutes later summoned me and my camera.
This is the fuel injection wiring harness. What's left of it anyway. Even a non-mechanic, non-electrical girl such as myself can guess that I shouldn't be seeing exposed wires.
He was dumbfounded and a little shocked that we hadn't experience any fire problems and kept repeating the same phrase, "I have never seen this before." I was still stuck on the word fire.
Fire?
I am so buying a Mustang once I get a job. =)
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Stark Reminders
A repeat of last year,
but nothing more to add.
Our country, and we as citizens, remember...
Click this link for a post from last year regarding Memories Of That Day.
but nothing more to add.
Our country, and we as citizens, remember...
Click this link for a post from last year regarding Memories Of That Day.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Praise To A Lady Who Knew How To Wait
"Sometimes God digs a well of joy with a spade of sorrow."
Those words are courtesy of my grandma who was a prime example regarding the power of finding peace in God's timing. I had never heard of that saying until I was reading through her bible after she passed away. Written in pencil near the back cover, I instantly memorized those words.
I was emailing my mom earlier telling her about my day so far.
It went something like this,
Van is messing up again.
Spilled fingernail polish on my good black pants.
Used a black sharpie on the above mentioned pants.
Went to a job interview.
I honestly don't know what will come of that interview, but it did originate from a call out of the blue. There have been times before when I was sure I had something and I didn't; this time around, I'm not so sure. Who knows? Maybe that's a good thing.
I mean, really... what are the odds of car trouble on your way to an interview in which you are wearing sharpie-doctored pants? What I can tell you is that I seriously just wanted to crawl back into bed and not come out again until it was time to pick the kids up from school, but I went.
I put on my game face and did the best I could.
That's what Grandma would've done.
Ha! Not the black sharpie part
She would have whipped up a new pair pants on her sewing machine...
I'm doing the best I can, Grandma. I promise.
Just don't look at my dirty windows and blinds.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Really, I Don't Do Blood
I sit in my recliner and look at the middle child. He is sitting on the couch, Nintendo 3DS in one hand while the other hand holds a bag of ice to his face. Both of his elbows are wrapped in bandages, his jeans cover a knee that is pretty banged up, one eye is steadily turning black, and his chin has that road-rash shade of red. His knuckles are all skinned up; his wrists are bruised. The only thing not messed up is his hair and his attitude. Life can beat him up, but he can still smile about it. Smile through the pain, that is.
I knew this day would come. You can't put a fifteen-year old daredevil on a longboard with hills all around and not expect some kind of collateral damage. Thank God he didn't break anything. Or get run over while he was down. Or hit his head. The list could go on and on. All I know is that I was in the midst of my own kind of mess at home when the oldest called me. Get some rags ready, Mom. He's tore up bad. I stood at that front door for a solid ten minutes watching for a truck to pull in, wondering what in the world would crawl out. Tore up? That implies a bloody mess to me. I stood there, mentally preparing myself for the moments to come.
He's your boy.
You have to face it.
Take care of him, then throw up later.
I had an old towel ready, three assorted first-aid kits, and a nervous stomach. I just don't deal well with injury-type stuff. I was it, though, so deal with it I knew I would. They pulled in and I took a deep breath. The passenger door opened and out stepped my second born. He looked at me, smiled, and then began the hobble that would bring him up the steps and through the front door. The closer he got the more I realized he wasn't actually dripping blood, he just looked bloody. I met him on the porch and began the mom-assessment of his injuries.
Nothing broken. No gaping wounds. Hair in place. We cleaned him up, bandaged him up, and fed him a couple of Advil. He told the story of his board and the hill and the moment he knew he was in trouble. I could almost see his instincts kicking in as he used his arms to protect his head and manipulated his body into a position that would let him somersault his way to an asphalt landing. He kept telling me not to worry, he was okay. No big deal, Mom. I wanted to clobber him.
That phone call and the ten minutes I stood waiting at the door resulted in an instant headache and a stomach full of knots. Once I saw that he was indeed okay and no emergency room trips would be needed, I thought about what all could have went wrong. We talked about helmets and head injuries and WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?? I wanted to go fast, Mom, and I did. Oh, Sweet Jesus. Thank You for protecting that boy of mine. Thank You for teaching him a lesson in all of this. Thank You that I didn't really clobber him or anyone else who was around.
My nerves are shot.
Just like the brakes on my van.
And this Pro-Bowl game is a joke.
I think it's time to call this weekend done.
And to my dearest middle,
You know I would never clobber you. I would just hug you and squeeze you really tight, but if you're gonna go for speed, son, you gotta wear a helmet. Head injuries mean shaved heads and you've got nicer hair than me. No sense risking that, you know. You are a treasure.
Love,
Mom
I knew this day would come. You can't put a fifteen-year old daredevil on a longboard with hills all around and not expect some kind of collateral damage. Thank God he didn't break anything. Or get run over while he was down. Or hit his head. The list could go on and on. All I know is that I was in the midst of my own kind of mess at home when the oldest called me. Get some rags ready, Mom. He's tore up bad. I stood at that front door for a solid ten minutes watching for a truck to pull in, wondering what in the world would crawl out. Tore up? That implies a bloody mess to me. I stood there, mentally preparing myself for the moments to come.
He's your boy.
You have to face it.
Take care of him, then throw up later.
I had an old towel ready, three assorted first-aid kits, and a nervous stomach. I just don't deal well with injury-type stuff. I was it, though, so deal with it I knew I would. They pulled in and I took a deep breath. The passenger door opened and out stepped my second born. He looked at me, smiled, and then began the hobble that would bring him up the steps and through the front door. The closer he got the more I realized he wasn't actually dripping blood, he just looked bloody. I met him on the porch and began the mom-assessment of his injuries.
Nothing broken. No gaping wounds. Hair in place. We cleaned him up, bandaged him up, and fed him a couple of Advil. He told the story of his board and the hill and the moment he knew he was in trouble. I could almost see his instincts kicking in as he used his arms to protect his head and manipulated his body into a position that would let him somersault his way to an asphalt landing. He kept telling me not to worry, he was okay. No big deal, Mom. I wanted to clobber him.
That phone call and the ten minutes I stood waiting at the door resulted in an instant headache and a stomach full of knots. Once I saw that he was indeed okay and no emergency room trips would be needed, I thought about what all could have went wrong. We talked about helmets and head injuries and WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?? I wanted to go fast, Mom, and I did. Oh, Sweet Jesus. Thank You for protecting that boy of mine. Thank You for teaching him a lesson in all of this. Thank You that I didn't really clobber him or anyone else who was around.
My nerves are shot.
Just like the brakes on my van.
And this Pro-Bowl game is a joke.
I think it's time to call this weekend done.
And to my dearest middle,
You know I would never clobber you. I would just hug you and squeeze you really tight, but if you're gonna go for speed, son, you gotta wear a helmet. Head injuries mean shaved heads and you've got nicer hair than me. No sense risking that, you know. You are a treasure.
Love,
Mom
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Anybody Want A Cat? (just don't tell my daughter)
I've got a cat who won't stay out of the bathtub, a couch full of laundry to fold, and a heart that is heavy. Not a great way to start a Tuesday, but a Tuesday that has been started nonetheless.
Our little cat thinks she's a dog. She plays fetch, acts like she wants to drink out of the toilet, and torments the bigger cat day and night. Even as I write this, those two are chasing each other around the recliner and bouncing off the walls. They are driving me nuts.
Laundry is just laundry. I got a late start on it yesterday and will be paying that price today. Anytime I want to grumble too much, though, I just remind myself that at least I'm not beating our clothes against a rock by the creek. I love my Downey fresh clothes.
And as far as my heavy heart, I'll just leave it at that. Only the Lord knows, and only He can do anything about it. I am really growing weary of this making me stronger stuff.
Our little cat thinks she's a dog. She plays fetch, acts like she wants to drink out of the toilet, and torments the bigger cat day and night. Even as I write this, those two are chasing each other around the recliner and bouncing off the walls. They are driving me nuts.
Laundry is just laundry. I got a late start on it yesterday and will be paying that price today. Anytime I want to grumble too much, though, I just remind myself that at least I'm not beating our clothes against a rock by the creek. I love my Downey fresh clothes.
And as far as my heavy heart, I'll just leave it at that. Only the Lord knows, and only He can do anything about it. I am really growing weary of this making me stronger stuff.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
If You Can Figure This One Out, Feel Free To Let Me Know
So.... say you're sixteen and have a fight with your mom and dad. The end result is the stunning declaration that you are no longer welcome in the home (although maybe not so stunning because this is not the first time). You spend the evening working your after-school job not knowing where you will sleep. Even though you've been through this before, you don't know what you'll do. And I say again... you're sixteen.
I just don't get it. I know I went a few rounds with my own parents back in the day. I'm sure I upset them on more than one occasion, but I don't recall ever being told that I couldn't come home. I don't even pretend to know all the circumstances in this current situation. Everybody's got a side and a story to tell and someone to blame, but can I just reiterate again... sixteen.
And a girl at that.
We all know the world is a scary place, right? I can't imagine being without a home or not knowing where I might spend the night, and I'm a long way from sixteen. I don't know how I would react to finding myself in a strange home with a strange lady (such as myself) who pulls out faded fuzzy pajama pants and a much too big t-shirt and triumphantly produces a never-been-used toothbrush.
I don't get a lot of things in life. I am most certainly at a loss for this. My husband understands all too well; I just shake my head in disbelief. I thought for sure there was a catch to this, maybe a massive misunderstanding or words spoken in haste. The mother in me is just completely dumbfounded. Even our kids are little bit stumped on this one, but they are all very excited about one simple thing: if there's a guest in the house, then a mom making breakfast in the morning is a sure-fire thing.
And that's proof there's hope in any situation.
I just don't get it. I know I went a few rounds with my own parents back in the day. I'm sure I upset them on more than one occasion, but I don't recall ever being told that I couldn't come home. I don't even pretend to know all the circumstances in this current situation. Everybody's got a side and a story to tell and someone to blame, but can I just reiterate again... sixteen.
And a girl at that.
We all know the world is a scary place, right? I can't imagine being without a home or not knowing where I might spend the night, and I'm a long way from sixteen. I don't know how I would react to finding myself in a strange home with a strange lady (such as myself) who pulls out faded fuzzy pajama pants and a much too big t-shirt and triumphantly produces a never-been-used toothbrush.
I don't get a lot of things in life. I am most certainly at a loss for this. My husband understands all too well; I just shake my head in disbelief. I thought for sure there was a catch to this, maybe a massive misunderstanding or words spoken in haste. The mother in me is just completely dumbfounded. Even our kids are little bit stumped on this one, but they are all very excited about one simple thing: if there's a guest in the house, then a mom making breakfast in the morning is a sure-fire thing.
And that's proof there's hope in any situation.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Dear World (Take 2),
Well, I gotta admit, when I wrote that Don't Mess With My Monday entry just a few days ago, I had no idea that the world (and Monday) were about to fight back. Yes, I did get the laundry done and the house got cleaned, but sometime after four that afternoon I ended up flat on my back in the middle of an asphalt driveway and everything came screeching to a halt.
So what do the uninsured do? They pick themselves up and pray for healing. At least that's what I did. A quick internet search suggested that I probably suffered something of a mild concussion and though I am loathe to search any medical diagnosis online (they all lead to death, you know), I had to agree that this one was probably right on the money. My vision was not blurred and I wasn't sick to my stomach, so I figured we could save the trip to the emergency room, take Tylenol as directed, and all would eventually be well.
Then Tuesday morning rolled around. Might I say I whimpered like a baby most of that day? I couldn't move, couldn't eat, couldn't think. My head hurt, my back hurt, and I swear even my pinky finger hurt. The husband suggested the ER more than one time and more than one time I said, Let's just give it another day. I dined on ginger ale and saltine crackers and when the man of the house wasn't around, depended on that other man of the house (aka the oldest) to help his poor mama out of bed. What a mess! I have never (birthing three children included) felt as bad as I did that day.
Wednesday proved hopeful when I could actually crawl out of bed on my own accord. Although ginger ale and crackers still remained my meal of choice, by the evening a pizza was actually sounding good. Even though I slept most of the day anyway, I had no trouble sleeping that night. This morning showed more promise as I woke up and could actually wave goodbye to the kids from the front porch. Yes, I immediately went back to bed, but three hours later I awoke with some serious hunger pains and only a slight headache. Tonight I can actually stand the backlight of the computer and seeing as how I've already gotten a few of those looks from the kids (the do your homework look, that is), I think things are finally getting back to normal.
And normal sure feels good, even if my head is still a little sore.
So there you have it. You can think you've got something conquered (like a Monday) and then everything changes. One thing about it, being down for the count makes you appreciate all those good days you took for granted. I'm going to have a busy day tomorrow playing catch-up with everything that got put on the back burner this week, but I'm looking forward to it just the same.
And a few final thoughts:
To my mom and dad, I'm sorry I didn't call you right away, but you know how it is... I always hate to worry you all. What I would have given, though, to have my mom taking care of me that awful Tuesday. I will never be too old to need my parents.
To my friend who is taking care of her own daughter right now, I will be glad when you are back. Enough said.
And to any of you out there who may have your own concussion horror stories to share, please don't. If I want to get freaked out, I've got the world wide web.
As always, thanks for reading. =)
So what do the uninsured do? They pick themselves up and pray for healing. At least that's what I did. A quick internet search suggested that I probably suffered something of a mild concussion and though I am loathe to search any medical diagnosis online (they all lead to death, you know), I had to agree that this one was probably right on the money. My vision was not blurred and I wasn't sick to my stomach, so I figured we could save the trip to the emergency room, take Tylenol as directed, and all would eventually be well.
Then Tuesday morning rolled around. Might I say I whimpered like a baby most of that day? I couldn't move, couldn't eat, couldn't think. My head hurt, my back hurt, and I swear even my pinky finger hurt. The husband suggested the ER more than one time and more than one time I said, Let's just give it another day. I dined on ginger ale and saltine crackers and when the man of the house wasn't around, depended on that other man of the house (aka the oldest) to help his poor mama out of bed. What a mess! I have never (birthing three children included) felt as bad as I did that day.
Wednesday proved hopeful when I could actually crawl out of bed on my own accord. Although ginger ale and crackers still remained my meal of choice, by the evening a pizza was actually sounding good. Even though I slept most of the day anyway, I had no trouble sleeping that night. This morning showed more promise as I woke up and could actually wave goodbye to the kids from the front porch. Yes, I immediately went back to bed, but three hours later I awoke with some serious hunger pains and only a slight headache. Tonight I can actually stand the backlight of the computer and seeing as how I've already gotten a few of those looks from the kids (the do your homework look, that is), I think things are finally getting back to normal.
And normal sure feels good, even if my head is still a little sore.
So there you have it. You can think you've got something conquered (like a Monday) and then everything changes. One thing about it, being down for the count makes you appreciate all those good days you took for granted. I'm going to have a busy day tomorrow playing catch-up with everything that got put on the back burner this week, but I'm looking forward to it just the same.
And a few final thoughts:
To my mom and dad, I'm sorry I didn't call you right away, but you know how it is... I always hate to worry you all. What I would have given, though, to have my mom taking care of me that awful Tuesday. I will never be too old to need my parents.
To my friend who is taking care of her own daughter right now, I will be glad when you are back. Enough said.
And to any of you out there who may have your own concussion horror stories to share, please don't. If I want to get freaked out, I've got the world wide web.
As always, thanks for reading. =)
Monday, September 5, 2011
Labor Day Blues
On this rainy Labor Day, at least in our neck of the woods, I've been reading a little bit about the origin of a day that Americans take to the interstates and lakes and backyards. There's a little confusion as to who actually came up with the idea of Labor Day, but one thing is for certain... it was originally celebrated on a Tuesday until the government decided it would make a nice three-day weekend. Now it's viewed less as a celebration of America's labor unions and more as the official end to summer.
Unemployment is at 9.1%.
Fourteen million Americans are out of work.
And the US Postal Service is going under.
Nothing like a few headlines to brighten your day.
Unemployment is at 9.1%.
Fourteen million Americans are out of work.
And the US Postal Service is going under.
Nothing like a few headlines to brighten your day.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Is There A Doctor In The House?
In the morning hours before church, my girl torments two cats with a red laser beam. Okay, so torment might be too strong of a word. They love it. How a cat can endlessly chase a tiny red dot around the living room having learned long ago that he (or she) doesn't stand a chance of ever catching it... well, I'm here to tell you it's solid family entertainment.
I am experiencing the woes of the un-insured. Health care, that is. About two weeks before the husband lost his job and our health insurance went out the window, I had went for to the doctor for an infection that you really don't want to hear about. Short of the story? It's back and I am up a creek. The husband has his VA, the kids are covered by the state (yes, we had to go that route), and I have been hung out to dry. I'm hoping to get my own veteran benefits rolling sometime in the future, but for now my hope remains first in Jesus (we had a talk just the other day) and second in an appointment I've got at a free clinic for Friday.
Well, technically it's not free, more of a based-on-your-income type thing. I had called around this past Friday when I was next to miserable. Take any clinic and try to walk in the door without insurance. The cheapest I found was $108 and that was literally just walking in the door. Put into the equation lab work and all that... $200 is a good guess and that's before a prescription. Lord have mercy. I am by no means an Obama fan, but I have had great fun telling my husband that if he would only leave Obama alone, all my health problems would be solved.
And that is a joke.
A really big joke.
But it drives my husband crazy.
I'll just wait till Friday and continue to consume large amounts of water and cranberry juice (figured it out yet?). In the meantime, I am working on schoolwork, watching some football, and anticipating the cooler temps headed our way this week. Labor Day is going to be a wash-out, but I don't know that anyone really cares around here. We are so ready for rain. The forecast last night showed a number I don't think we've seen since March. 80s. Hallelujah. Even my husband did a little jig last night when he saw that. I am ready to throw the windows open and turn off the air. Our screened-in porch needs a good cleaning and a lot of use. I'm ready for pumpkins on the porch, pumpkin bars in the oven, and a pumpkin latte in my hand.
Anything but cranberry.
I am experiencing the woes of the un-insured. Health care, that is. About two weeks before the husband lost his job and our health insurance went out the window, I had went for to the doctor for an infection that you really don't want to hear about. Short of the story? It's back and I am up a creek. The husband has his VA, the kids are covered by the state (yes, we had to go that route), and I have been hung out to dry. I'm hoping to get my own veteran benefits rolling sometime in the future, but for now my hope remains first in Jesus (we had a talk just the other day) and second in an appointment I've got at a free clinic for Friday.
Well, technically it's not free, more of a based-on-your-income type thing. I had called around this past Friday when I was next to miserable. Take any clinic and try to walk in the door without insurance. The cheapest I found was $108 and that was literally just walking in the door. Put into the equation lab work and all that... $200 is a good guess and that's before a prescription. Lord have mercy. I am by no means an Obama fan, but I have had great fun telling my husband that if he would only leave Obama alone, all my health problems would be solved.
And that is a joke.
A really big joke.
But it drives my husband crazy.
I'll just wait till Friday and continue to consume large amounts of water and cranberry juice (figured it out yet?). In the meantime, I am working on schoolwork, watching some football, and anticipating the cooler temps headed our way this week. Labor Day is going to be a wash-out, but I don't know that anyone really cares around here. We are so ready for rain. The forecast last night showed a number I don't think we've seen since March. 80s. Hallelujah. Even my husband did a little jig last night when he saw that. I am ready to throw the windows open and turn off the air. Our screened-in porch needs a good cleaning and a lot of use. I'm ready for pumpkins on the porch, pumpkin bars in the oven, and a pumpkin latte in my hand.
Anything but cranberry.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Give Me Enough Chocolate And Nobody Has To Get Hurt
There are few things in life that chocolate cake cannot fix.
Unfortunately, I may be knee-deep in the middle of one of those times.
But I still ate the cake, just to be sure.
What do you do when you know something you shouldn't know? And this is non-kid related, by the way. When those nagging suspicions that you've had pan out to be true and you're worried about somebody, do you stick your nose in or keep your nose out? The funny thing is that I was just talking about unsolicited advice a few entries ago. Maybe I should follow my own ramblings and just stay the heck out of it.
But, boy, is it hard. I really want to say something. Part of me wants to sneak up and say GOTCHA! Oh, and this involves all articles of clothing being on, just so you know. I'm not in to sneaking up on anybody in that fashion. I just hate dishonesty. I hate it when trust is broken. And I really hate being lied to or, in the case when no direct words are involved (hence no lying, you see), I despise being misled into thinking something is what it is not.
Are you all still with me? This is why I'm eating cake. It's a birthday cake, to be clear, but any excuse for cake is a good excuse for me. A friend of my kids having a birthday? Awesome! Bring 'em over and let's eat cake. As you all know, though, the tummy can be full and the heart not settled. That's where I am right now. All that's left is a smattering of chocolate crumbs and a half-full mug of lukewarm coffee. I couldn't possibly eat another bite, but I can nuke the coffee. Anything to keep me busy.
Like crocheting. I am officially hooked (get the pun?). Wow. Maybe I've had a little too much coffee. I love this new hobby, though, and fair warning to all my family members... Scarfs For Everybody This Christmas! If you have a color preference, you better get it in now. I'm on a roll. I actually have to discipline myself with my homework: no crocheting till I answer a question or read a chapter. Nah... who am I kidding anyway? I sat down now to work on some questions and the whole blog world can see that I'm not getting that done. So much for discipline.
You know, I've never been good with keeping my mouth shut. I think I might try it now just for kicks and see what happens. After all, is any battle really mine? I think not. I'm not promising anything, though. If I have to keep turning to cake to keep me from saying anything, the end result won't be pretty for anybody. Crocheting I can do. Reading I can do. Overload on the chocolate? Yeah. Let's not venture down that road.
Unless I can find diet chocolate.
Then all bets are off.
Unfortunately, I may be knee-deep in the middle of one of those times.
But I still ate the cake, just to be sure.
What do you do when you know something you shouldn't know? And this is non-kid related, by the way. When those nagging suspicions that you've had pan out to be true and you're worried about somebody, do you stick your nose in or keep your nose out? The funny thing is that I was just talking about unsolicited advice a few entries ago. Maybe I should follow my own ramblings and just stay the heck out of it.
But, boy, is it hard. I really want to say something. Part of me wants to sneak up and say GOTCHA! Oh, and this involves all articles of clothing being on, just so you know. I'm not in to sneaking up on anybody in that fashion. I just hate dishonesty. I hate it when trust is broken. And I really hate being lied to or, in the case when no direct words are involved (hence no lying, you see), I despise being misled into thinking something is what it is not.
Are you all still with me? This is why I'm eating cake. It's a birthday cake, to be clear, but any excuse for cake is a good excuse for me. A friend of my kids having a birthday? Awesome! Bring 'em over and let's eat cake. As you all know, though, the tummy can be full and the heart not settled. That's where I am right now. All that's left is a smattering of chocolate crumbs and a half-full mug of lukewarm coffee. I couldn't possibly eat another bite, but I can nuke the coffee. Anything to keep me busy.
Like crocheting. I am officially hooked (get the pun?). Wow. Maybe I've had a little too much coffee. I love this new hobby, though, and fair warning to all my family members... Scarfs For Everybody This Christmas! If you have a color preference, you better get it in now. I'm on a roll. I actually have to discipline myself with my homework: no crocheting till I answer a question or read a chapter. Nah... who am I kidding anyway? I sat down now to work on some questions and the whole blog world can see that I'm not getting that done. So much for discipline.
You know, I've never been good with keeping my mouth shut. I think I might try it now just for kicks and see what happens. After all, is any battle really mine? I think not. I'm not promising anything, though. If I have to keep turning to cake to keep me from saying anything, the end result won't be pretty for anybody. Crocheting I can do. Reading I can do. Overload on the chocolate? Yeah. Let's not venture down that road.
Unless I can find diet chocolate.
Then all bets are off.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Finding The Happy
If I have to put a For Sale sign in our front yard at this point, I think I might scream. Three years ago, I would have been jumping with excitement. Two years ago, I would have been on my knees thanking the Lord. Even one year ago, I would have been happily ignoring the protests of my kids and been on the street myself handing out flyers. But now? Just the thought of it gives me an instant headache.
And no offense to my family and friends back home either. I'm simply not up to going through all that again. The thought of packing makes me cringe. The sheer image of a moving truck with its bottomless gas tank makes me cry. The idea of starting over again somewhere else makes me want to run away (and we all know that includes a rental bike shop on the Atlantic coast). There just seems to be nowhere to hide.
This unemployment thing sucks. I hate the uncertainty of it all. Yes, we're fine for now, but I'm a person who likes to plan ahead. I need to plan ahead and know that everything will work out just fine. Funny how that has never been as important to the Lord as it is to me. I suppose it's like we tell our own kids: You don't need to worry about it. Daddy has it all under control. Easily spoken words, huh?
The oldest is on his own job search and I'm glad to see him doing it. Not because I expect him to help us out (although the boy would give us his last dime if we asked for it), but because I know he'll need his own stash to do things that every seventeen-year old boy wants to do... drive his truck, take his girlfriend out to dinner, buy his mom a Starbucks. He is so happy most of the time. I want him to stay that way.
I knew today's mood swing was coming. When I sat down to pay a few more bills to take us (almost) through to the end of the month, the dread started gnawing away at me and I feel silly for going down this road. My husband has more than taken care of us. Like he told his former employer when they gave him the pink slip, I may not be good with math, but I am good with money. He does plan ahead.
It's just that ole not knowing creeping in. I'm back to checking job boards a gazillion times a day and I know better than to be doing that. A person can really only do so much. Attitude is everything, I suppose. That and prayer. I have the mind of Christ and hold the thoughts, feelings, and purposes of His heart (1 Cor. 2:16). I am a believer and not a doubter. And chocolate helps, too.
Are things all that bad? Not really. The mind can be a powerful ally, though, or our own worst enemy. The husband is out doing all he can, the boy has spent at least thirty minutes on a Subway application, and it's time I close down the pity party. There's too many good things going on my life to be consumed by the negative (you did catch the new baby post yesterday, right?). You can't go wrong with that.
Besides, if I take any more Excedrin, I might be considered an addict.
And no offense to my family and friends back home either. I'm simply not up to going through all that again. The thought of packing makes me cringe. The sheer image of a moving truck with its bottomless gas tank makes me cry. The idea of starting over again somewhere else makes me want to run away (and we all know that includes a rental bike shop on the Atlantic coast). There just seems to be nowhere to hide.
This unemployment thing sucks. I hate the uncertainty of it all. Yes, we're fine for now, but I'm a person who likes to plan ahead. I need to plan ahead and know that everything will work out just fine. Funny how that has never been as important to the Lord as it is to me. I suppose it's like we tell our own kids: You don't need to worry about it. Daddy has it all under control. Easily spoken words, huh?
The oldest is on his own job search and I'm glad to see him doing it. Not because I expect him to help us out (although the boy would give us his last dime if we asked for it), but because I know he'll need his own stash to do things that every seventeen-year old boy wants to do... drive his truck, take his girlfriend out to dinner, buy his mom a Starbucks. He is so happy most of the time. I want him to stay that way.
I knew today's mood swing was coming. When I sat down to pay a few more bills to take us (almost) through to the end of the month, the dread started gnawing away at me and I feel silly for going down this road. My husband has more than taken care of us. Like he told his former employer when they gave him the pink slip, I may not be good with math, but I am good with money. He does plan ahead.
It's just that ole not knowing creeping in. I'm back to checking job boards a gazillion times a day and I know better than to be doing that. A person can really only do so much. Attitude is everything, I suppose. That and prayer. I have the mind of Christ and hold the thoughts, feelings, and purposes of His heart (1 Cor. 2:16). I am a believer and not a doubter. And chocolate helps, too.
Are things all that bad? Not really. The mind can be a powerful ally, though, or our own worst enemy. The husband is out doing all he can, the boy has spent at least thirty minutes on a Subway application, and it's time I close down the pity party. There's too many good things going on my life to be consumed by the negative (you did catch the new baby post yesterday, right?). You can't go wrong with that.
Besides, if I take any more Excedrin, I might be considered an addict.
God Himself has said,
I will never leave you without support or forsake you or let you down.
I will not, I will not, I will not (yes, this really is repeated THREE times)
in any degree leave you helpless or relax my hold on you... assuredly not!
Hebrews 13:5, Amplified
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Dear Drama,
I went to bed thinking about you last night and woke up with you still on my mind. My coffee doesn't taste good because you make my stomach sick and my body feels achy from all the agony you bring and my eyes burn from the tears you cause. Why, oh why must you camp out in my backyard?
I mean, I knew you well enough when I was in junior high. You even hung around for most of my high school years (I think you must have hooked up with my old boyfriend or something). Other than that, you pretty much took the hint and left me alone. It was a good run.
Oh, I knew to expect you when my own kids got older. I think you must lurk around every freshman locker and sit at every seventh grade girls' table in the cafeteria. That's part of teaching them to grow up and conquer you and telling you to hit the road.
But seriously. Why are you here? For the last few weeks you've been constantly at my front door. I try to keep you out. I have no problem in not answering the door. I can ignore you until Jesus comes back. The trouble (and your lucky break) is that my husband is too nice. He just hates to see people fight.
He'll get tired of you, though. One day he is going to wake up and decide that you are simply not worth it. There is no amount of Pepto in the world that can sooth the woes you bring. The only thing you understand is a good swift kick in the pants. You'll get yours.
Until then, I will be patient. I'll smile and hold my tongue and speak words of encouragement and chew antacids as needed. The last thing I need is for you to invite your friends over. One of us would definitely have to go then and a word to the wise, it won't be me.
You see, my kids are about to come home. They'll have just a short month before school starts and homework begins and their own battles kick off. I'll not have you burdening them with your adult version of idiot people. They get enough of that in our public school system.
Ahhhh. I feel better already. Maybe not coffee ready, but definitely ready to face what you're gonna dish out today. We're here for a reason. Sooner or later, it'll all come out. Bear with me and wait a little longer, and I will show you, for I have something still to say on God's behalf (Job 36:2).
And one more thing, don't let the back door hit you on the way out. Or on second thought, please do. Be sure to exit by that dog of ours with the big teeth and sharp nails. She loves to tear up stuff. I have just volunteered you. I think even my husband would agree with me on this one. You won't be around for a holiday dinner.
With no love or best wishes,
Angela
I mean, I knew you well enough when I was in junior high. You even hung around for most of my high school years (I think you must have hooked up with my old boyfriend or something). Other than that, you pretty much took the hint and left me alone. It was a good run.
Oh, I knew to expect you when my own kids got older. I think you must lurk around every freshman locker and sit at every seventh grade girls' table in the cafeteria. That's part of teaching them to grow up and conquer you and telling you to hit the road.
But seriously. Why are you here? For the last few weeks you've been constantly at my front door. I try to keep you out. I have no problem in not answering the door. I can ignore you until Jesus comes back. The trouble (and your lucky break) is that my husband is too nice. He just hates to see people fight.
He'll get tired of you, though. One day he is going to wake up and decide that you are simply not worth it. There is no amount of Pepto in the world that can sooth the woes you bring. The only thing you understand is a good swift kick in the pants. You'll get yours.
Until then, I will be patient. I'll smile and hold my tongue and speak words of encouragement and chew antacids as needed. The last thing I need is for you to invite your friends over. One of us would definitely have to go then and a word to the wise, it won't be me.
You see, my kids are about to come home. They'll have just a short month before school starts and homework begins and their own battles kick off. I'll not have you burdening them with your adult version of idiot people. They get enough of that in our public school system.
Ahhhh. I feel better already. Maybe not coffee ready, but definitely ready to face what you're gonna dish out today. We're here for a reason. Sooner or later, it'll all come out. Bear with me and wait a little longer, and I will show you, for I have something still to say on God's behalf (Job 36:2).
And one more thing, don't let the back door hit you on the way out. Or on second thought, please do. Be sure to exit by that dog of ours with the big teeth and sharp nails. She loves to tear up stuff. I have just volunteered you. I think even my husband would agree with me on this one. You won't be around for a holiday dinner.
With no love or best wishes,
Angela
Friday, July 1, 2011
A Disclaimer May Be Necessary: Blame The Coffee If It Helps
If my life were really a book, I think I would have closed it up by now. You can only repeat the same thing so many times before it becomes so predictable that it makes even me weary. The things maybe worth mentioning I don't mention because I've got too many people who really know me and love me that read this. (Okay, technically like maybe TWO people that I know of for sure family-wise, but you get the idea). No need upsetting the fans.
And that was a joke.
A lame one maybe, but I'm running on fumes here.
Even if I wanted to put into words what is in my heart right now, I don't think I could. Defeat is a hard emotion to express. Needless to say, I had one of the worst experiences of my adult life last night and all I could see was a flashback to a naive nineteen-year old girl who didn't know how to just walk away. I still don't know how to do that. I may never learn. My biggest problem has always been digging my nails in too tight and holding on for dear life. I seriously don't know how to let go, and somehow I always end up being the one hurt.
Don't they make a pill for this? Something I could just take to muffle the noise? I don't want to shut down; I just want to step back. I have no problem with being part of the background, but for some reason, I'm always trying to make it to center stage. How's that for making sense? Didn't Paul say something like that? Something along the lines of I know what to do and what I should do but I end up doing everything opposite? I don't know if it's pride or stubborness or just plain bad timing. What I do know is that my stomach feels sick and my eyes won't stop watering and this coffee is too darn weak.
I'm gonna push my re-start button today if I can find it. Hopefully it's still in operating order. One thing is for sure... if you have learned anything about me, my house will be spotless by the end of the day. I may not have a pill to take, but I've got enough furniture polish to see me through yet another crisis. We all have our ways to cope. Mine just happens to include a vacuum and about twenty dust rags.
And coffee.
I definitely need a better cup of coffee.
And that was a joke.
A lame one maybe, but I'm running on fumes here.
Even if I wanted to put into words what is in my heart right now, I don't think I could. Defeat is a hard emotion to express. Needless to say, I had one of the worst experiences of my adult life last night and all I could see was a flashback to a naive nineteen-year old girl who didn't know how to just walk away. I still don't know how to do that. I may never learn. My biggest problem has always been digging my nails in too tight and holding on for dear life. I seriously don't know how to let go, and somehow I always end up being the one hurt.
Don't they make a pill for this? Something I could just take to muffle the noise? I don't want to shut down; I just want to step back. I have no problem with being part of the background, but for some reason, I'm always trying to make it to center stage. How's that for making sense? Didn't Paul say something like that? Something along the lines of I know what to do and what I should do but I end up doing everything opposite? I don't know if it's pride or stubborness or just plain bad timing. What I do know is that my stomach feels sick and my eyes won't stop watering and this coffee is too darn weak.
I'm gonna push my re-start button today if I can find it. Hopefully it's still in operating order. One thing is for sure... if you have learned anything about me, my house will be spotless by the end of the day. I may not have a pill to take, but I've got enough furniture polish to see me through yet another crisis. We all have our ways to cope. Mine just happens to include a vacuum and about twenty dust rags.
And coffee.
I definitely need a better cup of coffee.
For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh.
I can will what is right, but I cannot perform it.
[I have the intention and urge to do what is right, but no power to carry it out.]
For I fail to practice the good deeds I desire to do,
but the evil deeds that I do not desire to do are what I am [ever] doing.
Romans 7: 18-19, Amplified
Sunday, May 22, 2011
(Let's Not Give This One A Title)
Today I woke up in time to get ready for church.
And decided I wasn't going.
Then thought I probably should.
And later regretted it.
It has just been one of those days.
The weather is hot. My mood is swinging. I'm thirsty at the moment, but have no desire to make yet another pitcher of sweet tea. Pictures of graduating seniors belonging to people I graduated with have been filling my facebook newsfeed. I'm happy for them; unfortunately, it all makes me feel old and I've grown weary of the smiling faces.
The grumpy dwarf?
Maybe, but stick around.
Chances are I'll be happy by the time this is finished.
A small chance, mind you, but it's still there.
I think all that nonsense about the end of the world yesterday has kinda zapped me. Sometimes I think, No, no... not yet, and then other times I think, NOW would be good. We watched the latest Chronicles of Narnia release last night and I actually sat on the couch fighting back tears. I mean, seriously, to stand on the outskirts of heaven? How could anybody want to return? I know, I know... there's purpose and all that, but good golly, that was a beautiful moment.
And for the record, I didn't think the world was going to end yesterday. I don't want anybody thinking that I'm all depressed cause I'm still here or anything like that. I think most of us understand the Bible is pretty clear on the subject of His return... I just feel kinda blah today, and for no good reason. My husband will look at the calendar with a knowing look in his eyes. Whatever. Sometimes he's just too observant.
I do want to thank everyone that reads these rambles from time to time. I get the nicest comments from people all across the country and around the world. (Do you sense the mood change here?) There's a whole community of people that I never knew existed. We write about everyday stuff... sometimes it's deep and meaningful, and sometimes it's not; but the one common theme that always rings true is it's all about life:
Gardening. Shopping. Kids. Spouses.
Nice grocery store clerks. Not-so-nice grocery store clerks.
Weather. Politics. Idiot drivers.
Jobs. School. Broken down cars.
Which reminds me, our fuel pump is making that annoying buzzing sound again. We've got a braces payment due in two weeks along with the electric and car and insurance and whatever else might creep up. And the job I've been waiting to hear about? Well, I'm still waiting. Lucky for me, though, I can take a hint. Mama didn't raise no fool.
And I think we're back to being grumpy.
Or maybe just happy.
Grumpy-Happy.
Cause you might as well laugh.
And decided I wasn't going.
Then thought I probably should.
And later regretted it.
It has just been one of those days.
The weather is hot. My mood is swinging. I'm thirsty at the moment, but have no desire to make yet another pitcher of sweet tea. Pictures of graduating seniors belonging to people I graduated with have been filling my facebook newsfeed. I'm happy for them; unfortunately, it all makes me feel old and I've grown weary of the smiling faces.
The grumpy dwarf?
Maybe, but stick around.
Chances are I'll be happy by the time this is finished.
A small chance, mind you, but it's still there.
I think all that nonsense about the end of the world yesterday has kinda zapped me. Sometimes I think, No, no... not yet, and then other times I think, NOW would be good. We watched the latest Chronicles of Narnia release last night and I actually sat on the couch fighting back tears. I mean, seriously, to stand on the outskirts of heaven? How could anybody want to return? I know, I know... there's purpose and all that, but good golly, that was a beautiful moment.
And for the record, I didn't think the world was going to end yesterday. I don't want anybody thinking that I'm all depressed cause I'm still here or anything like that. I think most of us understand the Bible is pretty clear on the subject of His return... I just feel kinda blah today, and for no good reason. My husband will look at the calendar with a knowing look in his eyes. Whatever. Sometimes he's just too observant.
I do want to thank everyone that reads these rambles from time to time. I get the nicest comments from people all across the country and around the world. (Do you sense the mood change here?) There's a whole community of people that I never knew existed. We write about everyday stuff... sometimes it's deep and meaningful, and sometimes it's not; but the one common theme that always rings true is it's all about life:
Gardening. Shopping. Kids. Spouses.
Nice grocery store clerks. Not-so-nice grocery store clerks.
Weather. Politics. Idiot drivers.
Jobs. School. Broken down cars.
Which reminds me, our fuel pump is making that annoying buzzing sound again. We've got a braces payment due in two weeks along with the electric and car and insurance and whatever else might creep up. And the job I've been waiting to hear about? Well, I'm still waiting. Lucky for me, though, I can take a hint. Mama didn't raise no fool.
And I think we're back to being grumpy.
Or maybe just happy.
Grumpy-Happy.
Cause you might as well laugh.
The joy of the Lord is my strength. (Nehemiah 8:10)
Of course, a Starbucks probably wouldn't hurt either.
I mean, surely the Lord would delight in a caramel macchiato.
And I bet He wouldn't order the skinny version either.
He's my kind of KING.
Do you see why I didn't give this one a title? It was all over the place.
My apologies. Just say a prayer for my family, okay?
I'm sure they would appreciate it. :)
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Three Days Quiet
Upon entering the house today after school, the middle sniffs and says, "Smells like a mixture of clorox and bar-be-que."
He's very perceptive.
The house has been cleaned and supper is in the crock pot.
Things don't get much better than that.
Except for the fact that something doesn't feel right. I'm not sure what that something is, but it is sure to reveal itself. It's about time for it. We've had exactly three days with zero drama.
It's the calm before the storm.
How's that for positive thinking?
I can recognize the cycle, though.
Now lest you chastise me for being all gloom and doom, a recap of my life might be helpful. Nine hundred miles away from my family who have had no serious health emergencies lately; a husband who despises his job; same husband with the self-invited family guests for Easter; my unemployment status nearing its two year mark; three kids ranging in ages from practically-a-teenager to practically-an-adult; and one very moody cat who has been lately obsessed with squirrels.
Yep. Three quiet days?
No teacher emails. No bills unpaid.
No van in the transmission shop.
I wonder how many of you are screaming, "Stop!" "Knock on wood!" "Speak life!" I know all those, and I know you're right. But can we all just stop kidding ourselves for a brief moment?
Stuff happens. The earth quakes. People get sick. Kids made dumb decisions. Mechanical things fail. The cat will yak. Pure and simple, day-to-day life living with other people. All that chaotic stuff makes me appreciate the quiet all the more. And there's the good part right there. Appreciation. Without all the mess that sometimes clutters my life, I might never appreciate the times when the clutter is non-existent.
But I'm telling you, something is going on.
With one particular kid.
A mom just knows this kind of stuff.
And if I'm wrong?
Then it's a win-win.
I'll take another three days of quiet.
He's very perceptive.
The house has been cleaned and supper is in the crock pot.
Things don't get much better than that.
Except for the fact that something doesn't feel right. I'm not sure what that something is, but it is sure to reveal itself. It's about time for it. We've had exactly three days with zero drama.
It's the calm before the storm.
How's that for positive thinking?
I can recognize the cycle, though.
Now lest you chastise me for being all gloom and doom, a recap of my life might be helpful. Nine hundred miles away from my family who have had no serious health emergencies lately; a husband who despises his job; same husband with the self-invited family guests for Easter; my unemployment status nearing its two year mark; three kids ranging in ages from practically-a-teenager to practically-an-adult; and one very moody cat who has been lately obsessed with squirrels.
Yep. Three quiet days?
No teacher emails. No bills unpaid.
No van in the transmission shop.
I wonder how many of you are screaming, "Stop!" "Knock on wood!" "Speak life!" I know all those, and I know you're right. But can we all just stop kidding ourselves for a brief moment?
Stuff happens. The earth quakes. People get sick. Kids made dumb decisions. Mechanical things fail. The cat will yak. Pure and simple, day-to-day life living with other people. All that chaotic stuff makes me appreciate the quiet all the more. And there's the good part right there. Appreciation. Without all the mess that sometimes clutters my life, I might never appreciate the times when the clutter is non-existent.
But I'm telling you, something is going on.
With one particular kid.
A mom just knows this kind of stuff.
And if I'm wrong?
Then it's a win-win.
I'll take another three days of quiet.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Troubled Times
Now my soul is troubled, and distressed, and what shall I say? John 12:27
I went to bed troubled and I woke up troubled. The morning news has left me more troubled. Earthquakes, tsunami warnings, and an idiot terrorist threat at our local airport is just plain craziness.
And there will be signs in the sun and moon and stars; and upon the earth
there will be distress (trouble and anguish) of nations
in bewilderment and perplexity at the roaring of the sea.
Men swooning away or expiring with fear and dread and apprehension and expectation of the things that are coming of the world; for the very powers of the heavens will be shaken and caused to totter.
And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud
with great power and glory.
Now when these things begin to occur, look up and lift up your heads,
because your redemption (deliverance) is drawing near.
Luke 21: 25-28
I was going to stop with verse twenty-five, but it was so good I had to go on. I know not everybody thinks the same way I do. I've had comments before that the writing is good, but the religion part could be left out. If I left that part out, however, I would have nothing to write about.
Most of the time I have no clue what I am doing. The news can worry me, my kids can frustrate me, and my husband can completely rock my world when he casually mentions that a part of his family has invited themselves to our house for Easter dinner. (You did catch the invited themselves part, right?)
The same family that we haven't seen for over a year. At least part of that family. The other part, the part that completely ignores us and pretends that we don't exist, are probably just gonna kick back and see how the whole thing plays out.
And when did I say I was cooking Easter dinner?
So you see, sometimes my troubles can begin from my own selfish dislikes and general feelings of I don't want to do this. The only good thing I can say is I knew this day was coming. I had already asked the Lord to guard my mouth when the subject came up and I gotta say, my mouth stayed shut. Miracle! Of course, that very fact has got that wonderful husband of mine very suspicious. My strange silence on the idea of his crazy family coming to dinner has probably got him thinking I'm moody and mad and who knows what else.
Well, technically... he's right on all accounts, but at least I haven't said anything. Baby steps.
Oh, Lord, save me from myself.
And be with those in Japan and Hawaii and the rest of the west coast.
And the idiot thinking he was gonna blow up something at the airport or plane or whatever that was?? Well, I'm thinking he just needs a good, swift kick in the pants, but you know best.
That's why you're YOU and I'm me.
Blessed be the Lord,
Who bears our burdens and carries us day by day.
Psalm 68:19
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