When Your Kid Buys You Dinner

It reminds you of everything that's gone RIGHT in your life.

We may never have money, but we will always be RICH.
Thanking God every day for the peace He has poured upon our household.

Our cup runneth over.

Aggravation

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.

Breathing Life To Dried-Up Bones

A joyful heart is good medicine, 

but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. 

Proverbs 17:22

I came home grumpy. Irritated.
Wanting to pop something with a BB gun.

And that's the mild version.

The husband put up with me for a while before he asked ,

What in the world is wrong with you?

I said I just wanted to hear some good news. Did he have any?

He had none. This is his week of no work. No work equals no pay. No pay presents unique challenges to paying the bills. Challenges to paying the bills creates a treasure hunt of sorts for things to sell on craigslist.

It's never a dull moment around here.

So anyway, he listened and more importantly, he understood my mood. We fired up the grill, made supper, and fed the kids. It was around that time that my phone rang. It was my dad.

We talked. He told me stories. I laughed. It was exactly what I needed. I repeated the same stories to the husband who (strangely enough) didn't laugh near as much as I did. He washed dishes. I dried. He asked me if I was all right. I looked him in the eye and said yes.

Somehow, in the midst of that unexpected laughter, I found hope.
In hope, I found peace. And in that peace, I found rest.

God's not finished with us yet.

(Fiery) Memories of My Grandma

Tomorrow is Way Too Old Wednesday (aka Senior Citizen Day) at our school. It's all in good fun... just another way to celebrate Homecoming Week and get away from the same old-same old. I've spent the last hour or so looking through my closet and the kids' closets and have discovered a few things about myself.

1. Trying to dress old is lot of hard work, and

2. I have a lot of old looking clothes from which to choose.

I'm not sure what that says about me and my (fading) sense of style, but all this old talk had me thinking about my grandma and how she would dress.

Long-sleeved shirts. Polyester pants. Curlers.

And the occasional ball cap.

Here she is with the oldest clearing away brush from our land. I would bet good money she had a matchbook tucked away in those jean pockets. That little lady was notorious for tossing a lit match in order to clear the land. The husband had to chase her around more than once with a garden hose in his hand. Oh, that still makes me laugh. Anyone who knew her knows how much she loved working outdoors.

She loved to quilt and sew and fish and garden. She would put anything in the freezer rather than throw it away. I remember one time she offered us tea... frozen in a ziploc bag. She would freeze milk if she thought it would spoil before she was able to use it all. She saved peanut butter containers and whipped topping containers and tubs of butter containers. She was not one to waste.

Her house often smelled of boiling onions or cabbage or beets.
Her refrigerator was typically full of a variety of leftovers.
She really did always have something in her cookie jar.

Good grief, I miss that woman.

Yes, tomorrow I will be thinking of her. My entire outfit is modeled after something I think she would approve. I may be missing the scent of mothballs, but I'm hoping to have fully captured her style.

Nothing fancy. Everything practical.

I'll just leave my matchbook at home.

My Co-Pilot & Me

If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you probably understand that the youngest is my grandma all over again. Always busy. Usually sewing. Frequently baking. For the last few days she has been tucked away in her room alternating between cleaning, reading, and sewing a stack of quilt blocks. She's out of the house at the moment, but the tunes from her radio can still be heard drifting through the open windows. A song caught my attention and made me think of our road trip last week.

And for the record,

I do not promote girls in in orange shorts, 'shine, or "lightin' one up."

I gotta tell you, though, if we sang this song once, we sang it at least twenty times on our thirty-one hour road trip with the girl and me. She is the official bleeper of any and all curse words and Dr. Pepper is our substitute of choice for any mentioned drink of an alcoholic nature (this is my daughter we're talking about here).

We sure had a lot of fun.

We were tired. We got kinda loopy. We missed an exit once.

We saw a motorcycle fatality which was a sobering sight.
We saw Dale Jr's racing team which was driving way too fast.

We yelled "HOT DOG!" one too many times.

We were stuck in construction work,
stuck in rush-hour traffic, and
stuck in a car for way too long.

I can't wait to do it again.

Thanks for joining me, little lady

Coming Down

I've been on a cloud lately.

High above it all. Swinging my feet in the breeze.

Then the wind blew. Or the bubble popped. Or the cork uncorked.

(And no, I have not been drinking).

Just thinking.

A week ago I was gearing up to head home. I was anxious and excited and packing. The daughter and I drove and drove and drove until we cleared five state lines and crossed into the land of the free. We left the interstate system behind and said goodbye to traffic lights. We watched the land change shape and the sky grow larger. Life slowed down.

The weekend was spent with family and laughter. I was reminded of what a chore it is to take two toddlers to Walmart. I was reminded of what it was like to sit at a table of my aunt's home cooking. I was reminded of how much I miss my brother.

We somehow managed to cram in a whole lot of everything,
and yet none of it felt rushed.

It just felt right.

Time doesn't stand still, though. The daughter and I had to re-pack and cross those same five state lines again. The sky became cluttered and the weather a little warmer. I'd say I was glad to be back, but...

Well, I already miss my parents and my brother and the chitter-chatter of his little granddaughters. I don't know when I'll get to see them again, but I'm guessing it will be a while.

And that just makes me sad.

My cloud ride is over.

So Much Cooler Online

I have spent the better part of this morning reading blogs from all kinds of women (rarely men) from all parts of the country. Some make me laugh. Some make me hungry. A few inspire me to do something crafty and a few cause me to shake my head in disbelief. One thing they all have in common, though, is they all entertain the heck out of me.

I love people. No, I am not a people-person and I have not momentarily lost my mind, but I really do love people. Real people. The people who admit their faults and laugh at their mistakes. People who know they're not perfect and aren't afraid to tell you about it.

It all makes me feel unusually normal.

Blogs are not like facebook or twitter. For instance, on either one of those you might find some random, attention-seeking post like,

I CAN'T BELIEVE THE NERVE OF SOME PEOPLE!!

On a blog, you'll get that story in detail. In fact, if you've read any particular blog long enough, you start to feel like you actually know the people. You (or at least I do) will find yourself nodding in agreement with the shenanigans surrounding everyday people in everyday life.

On a blog, you won't just find a picture of half-eaten food on a obvious restaurant-style plate (those photos have always driven me insane)- you'll get a story about why that particular dish is picture-worthy. You won't get a series of "check-ins" or "self-portraits". You really only get what that particular writer feels is worth taking the time to write and let's face it, your daily stop at the gas station  or your boobs peeking out from your new lace cami is probably not gonna top the list of important things to write about on any given day.

Whoops. I did it again... caused another pair of eyes to roll heavenward. I can almost hear the fury of clicks as people scurry away from what I deem worthy to publish to the virtual screen. I'm probably just jealous. I can't check-in at the gas station or take fitting-room pics with my stylin' pink, Pantech dumbphone. Otherwise I would probably join the masses- though I seriously doubt it.

The moral of today's front porch story? Don't judge other bloggers based on me. Scroll around. You're sure to find someone who shares your interests. Blogs are a lot of fun. They're real. And hey, if you don't like 'em, just move on the next one.

I've lost lots of readers that way. =)