Please Tell Me You Can Relate

I've been thinking about my friends back home. It seems our communication is becoming less and less. I wonder if that is normal... I suppose it's just a good reminder that life goes on. I know several of them keep up with this blog so I know they know what's going in my world; I just miss knowing what's going on in their world. Does that make me nosy? I don't think so. I just genuinely miss my friends.

Life does go on. I spent a little part of today walking with a friend that I would have never known if we had not moved. Believe me, I would be missing out (and just because I think she reads this blog sometimes in no way implies that I am kissing up). Ha! It's just good to know that when a chapter closes on one portion of our life, another one is waiting to be started.

I guess I'm in a sappy sort of mood, you could say. Today while sitting in church in a pew behind our kids, I watched as one of them discreetly slipped their hand into a wallet to contribute to the offering plate (or bag, in this case). That random act tugged at my heart a little bit. I've always said that if I get nothing else right in this world, I want our kids to honor the Lord in all that they do. It's a tough road out there.

And then there was supper tonight. May I say it was awesome? I grilled out, loaded the table with good stuff, and then just basked in the compliments afterward. Yeah. I'm shameless like that. I'm also an easy one to figure out. Shower the mom with praise and she'll offer to do the dishes. Walking into a clean house doesn't hurt either. Remember, I'm not opposed to the occasional bribe.

I hear the clinking of weights in the next room and the sound of brothers talking. How short our days are becoming! The older they get, the more I'm reminded of how this particular chapter in the life of our family will quickly transition into something else. And then there's our girl. My, oh my. My little girl trying so hard to grow up... makes me want to grab the kleenex even as I write.

So, yes... it is indeed a sappy kind of night.
Nothing is bad, nothing is wrong.
In a way everything is just right.

And that makes me want to smile and cry all at the same time.

Where I Live...

We have fairs in the fall.

State fairs. County fairs. Any good excuse for a fair.

Like anywhere else, there's overpriced food...

...that is impossible to pass up.

And there's the games that are almost impossible to win.

All kinds of trinkets to woo the money of the young and old.

Yep. We spent too much money on admission and tickets and those pesky funnel cakes, but boy, did we have a good time. Some things in life are just worth that extra buck.



Better Than A Pin-Up Girl

Sometimes it doesn't take much to make me laugh. While watching tv this evening (a whole hour of The Rifleman) I looked over at my husband stretched out in his recliner. He was holding a book sideways with an intense look on his face that was a mixture of both joy and anticipation. It reminded me of what a man might look like if he was checking out the latest centerfold or something... only what he was holding was no bunny-of-the-month club issue. It was a Ford manual with detailed schematics and other fun stuff for his old truck.

Yep, we might be kinda boring around here, but at least we keep it clean. =)

A Rite Of Passage

Today was a sad day for the oldest. After supper, we sat at the table together, just him and me. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. He sighed heavily. He dug in his pockets. He sighed once more... then he handed it over. His first insurance payment for his truck. Happy day for me. Sad day for him. Do you know what all I could do with that money? he asked. Only all too well, was my response. Now don't get me wrong, his attitude was awesome. He knew this day was coming and even had it marked on the calendar. I had told him he could break it up through the month, but as he said, One way or the other, it's still gonna be the same amount. So he relinquished the funds to be applied to our insurance bill and then started talking about taxes. He showed me his pay stub and asked if everything looked all right.

Yep, I assured him. Welcome to the working man's world.

Apparently him and his brother (that would be the middle) have been solving our nation's debt problem while sitting in the drive-thru line. They did some quick calculations based on the tax they were being charged on their dollar menu burgers, multiplied that by the people living in our country, and determined that even if everyone only purchased dollar menu stuff on a daily basis, that should still be enough to run the country. Now I hope you're not grabbing a note pad and a calculator to de-bunk their theory... the fact they were even thinking that way made me laugh. They are so their dad. We swapped a little tax trivia regarding the early years of America, discussed typical household bills, and reminded the youngest once again why she's not getting a cell phone.

He left to help the middle wash the dishes. The youngest left to feed the dog. And I was left with his money feeling half-guilty for taking it and half-relieved for having it, but I also felt a twinge of pride in there. Pride for a boy who's not a boy anymore. He's learning how to hold down a job, budget his money, and pay his own way. He appreciates help when it's available, but doesn't expect it. He understands that sometimes walking out of Radio Shack empty-handed is necessary if he wants to have gas money at the end of the week (and believe me, the boy loves Radio Shack). He's learning... even if it is a little sad at times.

Nobody likes to say goodbye to their cash.

About That Last Post...

After receiving a few questions pertaining to the arrival of our surprise weekend guest, I thought I would address the matter in a simple and direct fashion:

We have heard both sides and neither side is pretty.
She is going back to her own home today.
And I don't think we've seen the last of her.

God's got a plan and I've got laundry to do.

Happy Monday! =)

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.

Banana Bread For Bed

I gotta say, I love evenings like this one. It's a little drizzly out (if that's even a word), it's been dark for a while now, and I'm already in my pajamas. We had a fend-for-yourself night for supper, but I redeemed myself by baking a couple of loaves of banana bread. I do believe that's the only reason my family likes bananas anyway... they wait for them to turn dark and mushy and for me to say, Well, if you're not going to eat those things I guess I'm going to have to bake bread. I swear it's a conspiracy.

The oldest is watching a documentary on the War of 1812. I love it when the kids watch this stuff not thinking much about it and then share later how much they remembered from it in history class or while taking a quiz or test. The best way to make a kid to learn is to not let them know they are learning. Seriously, though, history is fascinating when presented right. Speaking of which... I start the first of my three final classes next week and, joy of all joys, there is no textbook required. Whew. I'll take that book money and go buy me some new cowboy boots.

Or pay the electric bill. Rats. No boots for me.

The oldest just looked at me and smiled. Pretty fascinating, huh? I ask, referring to the television. He nods his head, totally engrossed in the story. I'm telling you...burning cities, death in the streets, savage amputations... I know he'll end his night with a video game marathon, but truth is always more fascinating than fiction. Tuesday night entertainment at its finest. And now Francis Scott Key is watching the Battle of Ft. McHenry. I might have to jump up in song. We did just hang a new flag outside today, you know. Wonder what the family would think if I told them to join me in the National Anthem.

Yeah. That would be a resounding No!
But it would be fun just to see the look on their faces.
I oughta get something for baking that bread.