Mail-Order Husbands

I feel like I have lost an entire week to a serious case of un-motivation. Zero ambition. Massive drop in the energy level. Enormous case of the uncaring blues. I could blame it on a minor little infection I was battling. Or the medicine I was taking that made me tired. It was that time of the month. Maybe I'm just missing the kids. Could be the weather. Or the lack of a vehicle. Money woes? Possibly.

Wow. Now that I think of it, maybe it wasn't all in my head.
This is why it helps me to write things out.
Which brings me to another issue I've been thinking about.

Should a blog be public or private? Do I put too much information on here? I don't mean my emotions and feelings and opinions about my pretty ordinary, everyday life. I mean like personal information stuff. I certainly don't want my picture or my daughter's or for that matter my brother's to end up on some foreign matchmaking, mail-order bride/husband delivery sheet.

Which poses another question.
Is there such a thing as a mail-order husband?
Not that I have one for sale or anything.

I wouldn't know how much to charge for him anyway. He's pretty handy.

This techno world amazes, confuses, and scares me all at the same time. I've spent a good week as it is researching new cell phones for an upgrade. We don't do the smartphone thing (although I'm starting to think I would seriously consider a little more monthly debt to experience one) and a non-smartphone with a decent plan is coming harder and harder to come by. I found a pretty cool one, though, complete with a phone tracker device (all kids should look away at this point).

As a parent, I love that.
As a kid, I would cry unfair!
Is there anywhere we can hide?

My husband wishes he could have been alive two hundred years ago. I'm not so sure. Although I get pretty stressed out sometimes by this modern world, I have a washing machine that is at this very moment doing all the hard work for me. I'm good with that. In fact,  I think the hum of that motor is a beautiful sound. A good friend of mine just bought a brand-spanking new Camaro. Riding in that thing beats the dust and heat of a covered wagon on a rutted-out dirt road any day.

Not that I would know by experience.
But I'd wager it's a pretty good guess.
Modernization isn't all bad.

Let me know your thoughts on the whole public vs. private blog thing anyway. Or your opinion on facebook and other social networks. You can even tell me what you think of people who text at the dinnertable. Just don't tell me I should wash my clothes by hand in the creek.

I don't think we would agree on that one.

What A 109 Weight Loss Looks Like

Not the usual title for Tony's whole weight loss journey story, but fitting enough. He took the time to send me a picture last night so I thought I'd take the time to share my good looking brother. Well, technically I can't share him (the wife would not like that, you understand).

Not too shabby, huh?
For a brother, that is. =)

My Provider

Sometimes I can be in the middle of the most ordinary tasks when the Lord catches my attention. Today it was in the midst of picking up and sorting through clothes and shoes and newspapers on my side of the bedroom floor (I've got the corner wall that is a notorious random-stuff collector).

I listen to internet radio most days. I like the variety that pops up and the few-and-far-between commercials to deal with. This song followed Total Eclipse of the Heart that was preceded by the likes of Redneck Woman and You Give Love A Bad Name. I'm not sure what would have followed it because as far as I was concerned, the music time was over.

Last night, we could not even rent a movie for lack of funds. This morning, I was able to go to the doctor and get a prescription filled thanks to the early deposit of my husband's paycheck. The movie was not needed. The doctor visit was. I guess I was just reminded of His perfect timing. I don't know that we'll ever have more than we need, but we always have just what we need when we need it.

(And I've spent time with prosperity preachers and their teaching, so save your wisdom there. It means nothing to me to see pastors and their assistants and their assistant's assistants drive around in foreign models and vacation in exotic places while the rest of the financially-strapped congregation struggles to keep the church lights on and feed orphan children).

But we won't go there.

I'm not against riches. I would like to try it. In fact, I've always wanted to be a main character in a John Grisham novel. It's typically a rags-to-riches story where the main guy earns his ka-billions through less than ethical standards. He gets to play hard, spend most of it, get caught, and still escape to the Caribbean where he has even more millions stashed away in Grand Cayman. Not that I support illegal tax evasion, mind you, but I do support every person's chance to live the high life at least for a short time (and not at the expense of credit card debt).

Anyway, I have once again veered off the path I had originally intended. I was reminded through that earlier song that God is always there. My husband and I had the most in-depth conversation the other night on the front porch (the one where I was tempted to shoot a fly with a .38). We were looking back on the last (almost) four years and how the Lord has been at every turn we have made. Even if it was the wrong turn, He was there to turn us around to get us back on the right track. Our house sold when it shouldn't have, we found a house that we loved that nobody else wanted... even with the whole job loss thing for me, I've been available for the kids when we've had no one else to fall back on. I could go on, but a look through all the entries of this blog will more than enough support the theory (no, the belief) that we serve a God who cares and loves and saves. And by the way, I learned all that from my Grandma Faye.

She would love all the talking I do about her.
I can see her smiling just as plain as day.
And for the record, she would agree with me on the prosperity thing.
Just thought I'd throw that in.

P.S. If you liked that video, look up this Joplin version.
No matter where I live, I'll always be a Missouri girl.

Keep That .38 Locked Away

I have come to the conclusion that I spend more time by myself than I do with actual people (cat not included). I wonder if that means in the next season off my life I will be surrounded by people and begging for alone time. One thing if for certain (and I'm sorry I've repeated this many times before)... things are not quite what I expected. Take, for instance, the fact that I am sitting outside at eight o'clock at night in what has to be still close to a hundred degrees and swimming in humidity. I don't care. I've been inside air-conditioned air all day. I need to see life.

By the way, did you know that most cars that drive by my house are silver? Black probably follows close behind, but silver definitely takes the prize.

It's cloudy. Thunder teases me with rain and a few sprinkles even play the part well, but I seriously doubt rain is in the future. It's hot. I'm sweaty (sorry for the picture), but I just don't care. My husband is working hard, the kids are entertaining a new kitten nine hundred miles away, and I sit here thinking about what might have been. Not a good state of mind, I understand, it's just that sometimes I re-visit these things. I like going there although I know I can never stay. Things are what they are. God has a plan. I went to Walmart earlier in a car that has no a/c. My van is in the shop that will hopefully leave on Friday or Saturday providing we can pay the bill. Oh, we'll pay it. We always do. We're never behind on anything (give or take a few days). Life marches on.

And these cicadas are really loud. I'm half tempted to pull out the .38 just to liven things up. I won't, but it makes me chuckle just thinking about it. It might silence everything for a split second (not counting the ringing in my ears), but those insects and birds and squirrels would pick up right where they left off. No sense disrupting their night for my brief moment of entertainment. I guess every now and then we all have nights like this. Things will liven up once the husband gets home. Things will really liven up once the kids get home. Things will probably seem out of control once I have a job again. Yep. I know. Enjoy the extreme boredom, no one to talk to or listen to while I can.

I wonder if I could hit this fly with that .38. Nah... I would just have to explain the hole in the front porch then. I don't need that.

God does indeed have a plan.

Where Does Money Grow?

Good Morning, youngest child of mine.
See? You miss me so much you've been reading my blog.
I knew I'd get you hooked sooner or later. 

And yes, I'm sure you'll have a comeback for that. Can't wait to hear it.

My husband commented last night how much he is enjoying this time with just the two of us. Sure, we miss the kids and they do make up most of our conversation topics, but I do understand where he's coming from. When we were married over eighteen years ago, we really didn't know each other that well. Making a decision to get married after a month's worth of dating does not give the other person a chance to really get to know you. We knew all the good stuff, but that's about it. Then the first year was spent preparing for the first child and by the fifth year, we had completed our family of five and that was that.

Cheap diapers and plastic bottles and squeaky toys.
Big-kid pants and juice boxes and toy boxes.
Baggy jeans and soda cans and electronics everywhere.

So yes, we have enjoyed this time together. What makes it so relaxing also is knowing right where those kids are. They couldn't ask for better grandparents and just knowing that they are all together... well, let me put it this way: we were out eating the other night when a horrendous storm blew in out of nowhere. As we sat helplessly watching trees bend and lightning seemingly strike everywhere, I looked at my husband and said, Well, the timing would be perfect. If anything were to happen to us, those kids are right where they need to be.

Morbid? Maybe, but we always worry about the what ifs in life. It was good to know that for that moment, all was well. Don't get me wrong, I know God would work everything out no matter if all five of us were scattered in five different directions, but I'm thinking you'll get my point. It really has been a relaxing few weeks.

Now can my mom say the same thing? I certainly hope so. I wonder if having those three teenagers in her house with hot showers going, hair dryers blowing, and refrigerator doors opening makes her breathe a sigh of relief that her days raising kids full time is over. Then again, I almost doubt it. Knowing her, she's probably treasuring every moment of it. My dad? Well, hopefully he's able to get past the sharp spike in the utility bill. One thing is for sure, I finally understand the term Money doesn't grow on trees.  He has taught me well.

Some Beach

Our van is in the transmission shop again. As we were trying to maneuver for a parking space in the morning downtown traffic, a white Jeep Cherokee whipped right in and stole the spot we were in the process of backing into. I seriously thought I was about to see that sorry sap go down from the wrath of my husband. Lucky for him, we had places to go and people to see. No time for police reports and bail bondsmen.

Not a great way to start a Monday.

The weekend was pretty good, though. I spent some time with a friend who just happen to win some concert tickets from a local radio station. Needless to say, I am now on the search for some cowboy boots and the right pair of jeans. Of course, my search is limited to the local thrift stores, but I've been known to find just the right bargains there before. If that doesn't work out, well... the temps are well over 100 here this week so flip-flops and capris would not be the end of the world. The fun part will just be in the going anyway.

Speaking of going, I've got a bed to make and dishes to wash.

When A Father Isn't A Father

As I sit here and think about Father's Day and how awesome my dad is and all that goes with that, I think about another man and how much I know he dreads Father's Day or Mother's Day or any kind of Think-About-Your-Parents Day. I think about how hard it has been and sometimes still is for him to think of God as a heavenly, loving father when his own father beat him as a child and now curses him as an adult. I think about the man who wants nothing more than his parents to be proud of him only to have them disown him and turn away him, his wife, and his children. I think about how cruel people can be.

And it makes me look at Father's Day in a whole new light.

I'm thankful for a dad who never snatched me from my bed by my throat.
I'm thankful for a dad who never repeatedly kicked me in the ribs.
I'm thankful for a dad who never raised a fist to me in anger.
I'm thankful for a dad who never kicked me out of the house.

I'm thankful my dad worked even when he didn't want to.
I'm thankful my dad provided food for my family to eat.
I'm thankful my dad always made me feel wanted.
I'm thankful my dad just said no to drugs.

I'm sure my dad would say that he's not perfect, which is a good thing... I'm far from it. Thank goodness perfection is not required for parenthood. What is required (I think) is a soft voice, a firm hand, words that encourage, and a full cookie jar. My own voice can get too loud and we don't even bother with a cookie jar any more (cookies don't last around here anyway), but every way I know to parent I learned from my mom and dad.

And my childhood was good.
I wish my husband could say the same.
Thank God for fathers that act like fathers.

Happy Father's Day to my dad, the best a girl could ask for.
Happy Father's Day to my husband, the best this girl could hope for.

I am surrounded by miracles.