Lunar Eclipse 2010

Wish I'd had a telescope and an amazing camera. But since I don't, here are my point & shoot pics from the spectacular lunar eclipse.

Honda Fail

Without warning, it died. Sarabeth was cruising down the highway when it quit. Thankfully it happened right after she finished her final exam. The Honda fell 4,000 miles short of its anticipated life of 200,000 miles. It endured abuse at the hands of teen drivers. It survived a side-swipe from a stop sign, crashing into a ditch, an airborne moment after jumping a median, running out of gas, oil, and various other body fluids. It's final trip was on the back of a tow truck.

But who can forget the worst violation ever:


All 4 tires slashed


Driver's Side

Every window & mirror was keyed


Driver's door

Trunk

Hood

Roof

X marks on side windows

RIP Honda Accord, you served this family well.
(The damage story can be found here & here.)

O Come Let Us Adore Him

Ethan came over last week. It was the first time he'd been here since I put up the tree and Christmas decorations. He rocked the singing Christmas dog, jammed with the piano-playing santa over and over and over. He admired the figurines with the baby Jesus, that he remembered I don't let him touch. (These pics were from 2 years ago.)

As he stood in front of the tree, he grabbed my hand and pushed it towards ornaments. I know he recalled playing with the Linus one, telling the Christmas story. His gestures were his way of asking which ones were okay to touch.

I gave him a gift that his great-grandmother had sent. All of the sudden, he ran to my bedroom. He remembered something else. Whenever this Christmas transformation takes place in Grandma's house, she has presents in her closet. I should have known.

Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful...

But it really isn't. Yesterday it was 70 degrees. It is not beginning to look a lot like Christmas. We haven't had a single meaningful snowfall this season. Not one. Yet I keep reading about blizzards and records of accumulation in places that don't usually get much. Where is the white stuff that makes everything so pretty around here?

So, I was thinking about having a white Christmas, regardless of whether or not there is snow on the ground. I am tired of putting color on my hair every 2-3 weeks. Why not wear white? Tis the season, afterall.

Last week, Michael and I discussed the cost of maintaining the red color. I declared I should go white or au natural, to save on time and money. He dared me. He really did. I told him he wouldn't like it. He laughed. I had to do something. If I couldn't get my white roots covered up, by golly, I was going to strip the color out and make good on having white for Christmas.

But then I phoned my hairdresser. She convinced me not to do it. I ended up with an awful color. I'm dreaming of a white Christmas. Again.


Proverbs 16:31
The silver-haired head is a crown of glory, If it is found in the way of righteousness.

Holiday Cheer

I had my first big shopping trip of the season. While browsing a particular store (can't say which one) I found lots of things that I wanted. Momentarily, I forgot whose gift I was looking for. An overly helpful clerk, no doubt working on commission, hovered about.

"Can I help you find something?"

"No thank-you. I'm just browsing."

"Looking for something in particular or for that special someone?"

"Well, yes, sort of. The problem is, I keep finding things that I want."

"Buy yourself something. It will make you happy. It will put you in the Christmas Spirit. What size do you wear?"

She really did say that.

And I promptly told her what size I wore.

It did not produce Christmas Spirit, but I felt a tiny bit happy. (But only briefly.)

First Time For Everything

I keep thinking I'm going to write some nice, cheery Christmas posts. This isn't one of them.

I crawled out of bed this morning, bleary-eyed. My normal routine is, I wash my face, smooth my hair, then have my coffee. Today, I looked in the mirror at my crazy hair. Squinted, in the bright light, not liking what I saw. I didn't even bother to wash my face or to pick up a brush. I just wanted coffee.

I stumbled to the kitchen, and plunked my coffee cup in the microwave. Standing at the sink, I opened the window shutters. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a UPS truck, and a package for here.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes to try to focus. Yep! He was walking to the door. Normally, Michael answers the door. Today, he was still in bed. I knew he'd seen me in the kitchen window, so hoped he wouldn't ring the doorbell and wake Michael up. But he did.

I paused by the front door, waiting for him to walk back to his truck. He didn't. He needed a signature. Mustering up all of the courage I could, I opened the door slightly.

"I needed a signature on this one," he said very cheerily. Without making eye contact, I reached for the pen and mumbled, "it's a good thing I got out of bed."

"I see you driving your little yellow car all around town. Every time I see you I think, hey, I know where that lady lives. You know there aren't too many of those around. I can tell it's you because you always have the top down and I see your red hair."

Why must I have such a friendly UPS man? Imagine that. Me, standing at the door in purple pajamas. No makeup, hair plucked straight out-out-of bed after a long night. I wasn't even wearing a bra. And he recognized me.

I Survived

I promised myself that I would NOT go into details about having a colonoscopy, especially not about the prep. There are some things that nobody wants to hear about-moving bowels is one of them.

But...in light of yesterday's post, I do have to mention one thing. Prior to yesterday, I was warned by many that drinking Gatorade is difficult and hard to gag down when mixed into the proper concoction. I had 2-32 oz. bottles of the elixir. (When did they quit making the White Frost Gatorade that tasted like Fresca? I was looking forward to it.)

The first spiked bottle went down fine. While I waited for the intended side effects, the unexpected happened. I began vomiting. This would be great if the scope was peering into my stomach. It was certainly purged and empty. I wondered how much good it was going to do when most of it was never going to pass through my intestines. After 4 hours of this, there was no way I could even think about breaking open the next bottle of punch. I sipped water, but even that became a violent protest.

The bottom line, I figure I got maybe a fourth of the recommended solution through me. I was afraid after all of that, they would deny my procedure this morning. (In spite of me being quite certain that my entire system was clean. I've lived in this body every single day of my life. I know it quite well.) Amazingly, they trusted me. As I suspected, clean as a whistle.

Forgive me for speaking of the unmentionables. I'm still under the influence of Propoful.

Disclaimer: If you are going in for a colonscopy, do not trust my personal experience. Follow your doctors advice, not mine.

Oh What Fun It Is...Not

Warning: Not in a festive mood. Rant to follow.

With today's technology advances, I cannot figure out why the health/medical/pharmaceutical communities use what I consider archaic, preset standards.

With infants and children, medications are administered based on the size of a child-predominantly by weight. It is reasonable. I wonder if one day a better method could be utilized based on personalized absorption & metabolism rates.

What I don't understand is the broad, generalized administration of drugs to adults. Whether one is 5 foot and 90 pounds, or 6 foot 3 and 350 pounds, he gets the exact same dosage of medicine. This is not reasonable, in my humble opinion.

I went to the cardiologist for a treadmill stress test. It is a pre-programmed workout, designed to register how your heart responds to the level of activity. Why must I, at 5 foot 2, have to walk the same pace as the gentleman who is 6 foot 7? Someone can't design the speed of the treadmill based on the length of your legs and stride? The test was ended early. I could not walk that fast. For me, that pace required a slow jog, but that wasn't allowed. I could have continued, but I needed to keep a very firm grip on the bar to keep from falling. They complained that I could not hold on so tightly or it interfered with the test. Slow it down just a tad and get a better analysis of how my heart reacts to a workout designed for my size. Sheesh!

What about pulmonary function? Once again, my lung function is based on "standards." The spirometer measures my breathing at 80%-in the normal range for someone my age, height, sex, etc. But why don't they take into consideration whether or not a person has learned to breathe very deeply? Musicians who play wind instruments or singers have learned how to increase their lung capacity to improve their abilities to produce music.

I began playing an instrument in 4th grade. During my 4th year of playing, I was taught the difference between what I thought was a deep breath and what was a true filling up of the lungs. The difference is great. So when I'm asked to take a deep breath a blow, in order to determine my lung function, do I suck in like a typical person, or do I expand to my truest ability? Some of you probably think my ideas ridiculous, but I take this very seriously. So I score 80%, but when given medication to reduce inflammation, my score goes up to 115%. This is more accurate, because it shows my personal lung capacity and the improvement with needed medication. I can feel when I cannot fill my lungs. I don't want someone telling me "you're fine, lung function is excellent" when it may be based on a standard, but not for me. Ugh!

So my question now is, do I really need the full dosing in preparation for a colonoscopy? Do I need more? Less? But, as I've found in every other situation, there are no variables. Every single man and woman gets the exact same instructions regardless of their body type or size, or how slow of fast their digestive system functions.

I think new standards need to be devised.

Wondering...

Why do some posts roll off my fingers, while others jam my joints? My fingers freeze mid-sentence, failing to find words. Forgetful.

I have one of those posts. It's sitting unposted, where I just might leave it until it can behave and present itself like it should.

A little timeout should do the trick.

Pay It Forward

I've been told that today is Pay It Forward Day. It's been awhile since I've seen the movie. Honestly, I hardly remember it. The premise of the day, inspired by the movie, is to do at least one act of random kindness.The receiving party is then to pass it on by doing a good deed for another stranger, and so on.

What an amazing place this world would be, if we made every day pay-it-forward day. Instead of irritation in the grocery check-out line, as the elderly gentleman searches for 3 cents, there would be kindness. Not only paying for his groceries, but carrying them to his car.

How exciting would it be to "Pay-it-forward" in a big way, to make a big difference in someone's life? In the movie, I believe a guy gives away his expensive Jaguar car. I read about a Phoenix news station that has a monthly contest. It gives $500 to an individual who then has the privilege of giving it to someone else. The catch is he only has 60 minutes to decide who to give it to, and it can't be someone he knows. What a fun, yet rewarding experience this would be!

Guess what? You can do this! You have this opportunity. Every. Single. Day.

Meet Grace. No, not a person, but real, honest-to-goodness Grace. It comes from God. Grace was and is the most generous gift ever given. Nobody deserves it. Nobody could earn it. It is such an enormous gift, it couldn't be bought, except by one person. Jesus. He paid it forward 2000 years ago on the cross.

Twenty-six years ago, God's grace was extended to me, by a new friend. It changed my life radically. I have to confess, though, I have not been diligent about paying-it-forward for others.

If you've received the gift of grace, why not pay-it-forward today? You can pour it out randomly. To people waiting in the doctor's office, a person walking down the street, or standing in front of you at the store. You can give this lavish gift to anyone, at any time.

Like the news station giveaway, you too have a limited amount of time to pay-it-forward. The difference is, you don't know how much time that is.

What about living as if we only have 60 minutes to accomplish this task? Who knows, maybe that is all the time you or I have. Let's get busy.

God paid a debt He did not owe. I owed a debt I could not pay.

Luke 6:38
"Give, and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.”

Miss You

I'd like to talk to Grandpa (my father-in-law) today. I want to hear his stories of being stationed in Korea. He fought in the Korean War back in the 1950s. I'd like to ask him what he thinks of the current situation between North Korea and South Korea.

Instead, I send text messages to my son, Christopher. Even though he is not fluent in the language, I ask what news he is hearing, since he lives in the heart of Seoul. I think about how he taught his students about of the Korean War. He shared with them that his grandpa fought in this war. His students were wide-eyed and astonished that their teacher's own grandfather had stood up for their country. You can read the story here.

Feeling rather melancholy today. Missing so much family.




Here are the only 2 pictures I have of Thanksgiving:

Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good!
For His mercy endures forever.


Let the redeemed of the LORD say so,
Whom He has redeemed from the hand of the enemy


Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness,



And for His wonderful works to the children of men!


For He satisfies the longing soul,
And fills the hungry soul with goodness.


He sent His word and healed them,
And delivered them from their destructions.

Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness,
And for His wonderful works to the children of men!


Let them sacrifice the sacrifices of thanksgiving,



And declare His works with rejoicing.

Then they cry out to the LORD in their trouble,
And He brings them out of their distresses.
He calms the storm,


So that its waves are still.


He turns a wilderness into pools of water,
And dry land into watersprings.


Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness,


And for His wonderful works to the children of men!


Let them exalt Him also in the assembly of the people,
And praise Him in the company of the elders.

Whoever is wise will observe these things,
And they will understand the lovingkindness of the LORD.

Pumpkin Pie

(I posted this on my recipe page, but am repeating it here, since it wasn't a true recipe.)

I decided to practice my gluten free pumpkin pies before Thanksgiving. I wanted to do one crustless and one with crust. Last year I made one gfcf, thanks to coconut milk. I couldn't remember what I did for the crust. I found some lovely, albeit expensive, gluten free crusts. I grabbed a can of Libby's Pumpkin and set to work. I followed the recipe on the back label-as I did back in my gluten days.

As I measured the sugar, it didn't seem quite right. I peered at the label more closely. One quarter of a cup. I poured half the contents into the prepared shell, and the other half into a prepared pie tin. They smelled wonderful while baking.

Elisabeth sent me a text message. She was having a lousy evening at work. I asked her if pumpkin pie would make it any better. She answered, "absolutely!" I felt like such a good mom.

She sampled this first slice.


"Hmmm...it isn't very sweet." Oh no. My suspicions were right. I knew one quarter of a cup didn't sound right. I retrieved the can from the trash.

"Elisabeth, how much sugar does this recipe say to use?"

"Three-fourths of a cup."

Sigh. It's obvious. I need reading glasses.

Click here to read a pumpkin pie story from the past.

A Week Of Thanks 2

Have you ever taken your vehicle in for a simple oil change and the mechanic hands you a list of things that are wrong or required maintenance tuneups that cost you additional money? You wonder if these are really necessary. The car runs fine. You've had it for 3 years and it never needed additional work; with the exception of manufacturing defects. Those were covered under the original warranty and didn't cost anything. Now you have to decide if these are optional or necessary expenses. If you plan to get 200,000 miles out of your car, (as my husband does) do you go ahead and have the work done when it doesn't seem that important?

Recently I've noticed that the vehicle I was given to drive through life requires greater maintenance. Over time, it doesn't run as smoothly as it used to. It isn't as fast or sleek either. I figured the more fuel I put in it, the more it would burn. I was wrong. Sort of like the time I put premium gas into the Suburban. I nearly killed it. Why did I think more expensive, rich, higher octane gasoline would make it happier and run better? It didn't. The Suburban was made to run on regular. My Honda is different. It requires the finer things in life. I have never once put regular into my S2000. It would choke and sputter. Nothing but premium will do. Am I more like a Chevy Suburban or a Honda S2000?

I begin making a list of the required maintenance projects and vehicle inspections I've been told are necessary. I question whether I should mention to my mechanic the pinging sound I've heard. Should I bother to take her to a body shop and point out the new dings and dents or ride those out? In spite of my attempts at cramming in the usual adjustments before the end of the year, things start breaking. Indicator lights flash at me. Instead of getting shorter, the fault list is growing longer. I wonder if I'm as healthy as I think I am. The list makes me feel rather pathetic. I feel old and worn out. I'm only at 75, 000 miles, it shouldn't be this bad.

"That's it?"

"What?" I don't hear as well as I used to either. Could you repeat that? I hear the faint whisper again, "where is the other list?"

"What list?" I ask. "I have to make another list? I don't think I can take it."

The Holy Spirit whispers again. "Where is the other list?"

"One isn't enough? Oh no, don't tell me I have a whole list of maintenance on my soul and spirit too."

"Where is the list of the parts that are working perfectly? The cells, joints, and marrow. The muscles, tissue, and organs. Vessels, villi, veins. Hair, heart, hands..."

Wow! That would take the rest of my life to list every little thing in my body that operates well every single day.

I look back at my list. What I thought was a pathetically long arduous task, suddenly became a tiny speck-hardly worth mentioning.

Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.
Philippians 4:7-9

A Week Of Thanks

What a weird day. I didn't get up until 12:40 p.m. I missed church.

Saturday night, I was headed to bed, but wasn't feeling great. I wasn't sure if the congestion was the usual or because I hadn't slept well the night before. I took Benadryl around 1:30, and climbed into bed. At 1:55, the phone rang.

When the voice from your daughter's college tells you she has been taken by ambulance to the hospital, the adrenaline rush supersedes everything else. Michael and I jumped in the car, eerily similar to the day before, after receiving the call regarding Ethan.

Dense fog made the drive a little longer than usual, but we made it by 3:15 a.m. Thankfully, by the time we arrived, she was fine . We bundled her up and headed for home.

Once again, we encountered thick fog, that caused us to slow the pace. I was glad Michael was at the wheel. It makes for a tense, white knuckle drive, when the visibility is poor. You merely follow the tail lights in front of you to know which way the road turns, hoping he too has tail lights to follow.

Instead of tension, I feel full effects of the Bendadryl. Despite the flurry of thoughts running through my head, I could not keep my eyes from closing. I may have dozed off for a moment. I awoke to a loud rumbling sound, followed by thumping and bumping, which pumped up adrenaline again.

A tire had blown. It was more like it exploded.



I am thankful that we'd passed through the fog before the tire blew & for the full moon that made it not-so-dark, while stopped alongside the highway. I'm thankful that Michael was able to change the tire and get us back on the road 43 minutes later. Michael was thankful that Christopher had a flash light in his glove box.

I was especially thankful to have a warm bed to crawl into at 5:55 this morning.

Blessed be the Lord,
Who daily loads us with benefits,
The God of our salvation!
(Ps. 68:19)

Seizures Suck

Sorry for the crude title for this post. I wanted a short explanation of how I was feeling. This will have to do.

Ethan had a grand mal seizure at school yesterday. I wish I could have been there for him when it happened. I got there as soon as I could-an hour and 15 minutes after the call. Two hours after he had the seizure.



He's home now, but will have to go for more testing. He really wanted to come home with me. He grabbed his backpack and his ipad, blew his mom kisses, and tried to walk with me out the door. He cried when he couldn't go with me. I cried too.

What Inspires You?

Beth's "You Capture Photo Assignment" this week is: What Inspires You?


I have to say, the simple things in life-the beauty God has given.


I wanted to capture the end of our warm fall weather.


These ones actually survived our first snow.



My other inspiration is on my Food Blog.

No News

Well, no news is good news, right? My phone didn't ring at 2:00a.m. again. I hope that means Hilary is feeling better. Otherwise, I'm going to drive up there and drag her home.

Wouldn't you think, as a doctor that only works with college students, and a student at the college recently died of a bacterial infection, that you'd be more cautious when a kid comes in sick? She comes to the clinic, has had a cold for over a week, is now running a fever, vomiting, having a hard time breathing, cough with a lot of chest pain. Would these symptoms warrant a chest ex-ray to check for pneumonia? Even if said child has had pneumonia before, would you throw a bottle of cough syrup with codeine at her and send her on her way so she can sleep? Really?

The next day she returns to explain that after taking the codeine her heart began racing, her throat itching, severe fatigue, yet inability to fall asleep, breathing becomes more and more difficult...and you tell her it surely wasn't the codeine that caused any of those symptoms. She says her chest and her back now hurt so bad she can hardly cough. Without even seeing her you give her a script for yet another cough medicine? It's a blizzard outside and you want her to walk to the clinic for that?

Hilary said, "mom, I don't think she paid attention to anything I said."

Grrr....no news is good news, right?

You Just Never Know

Christina called me this afternoon. She had just picked Ethan up from school. He was running a fever. She had to leave class early and now has to make up that time. I have no idea how she has the energy for classes, clinicals, being a mom to Ethan and everything else. She sounded exasperated.

Ethan seemed fine when she picked him up. She said he wasn't acting like he was sick. But while we talked, she noticed he did seem to not be feeling so great. She told me the story of how the school figured out he was sick.

For some reason, he had passed by one of the office staff. He didn't smile. This was out of character for him. They checked his temperature. Sure enough. He was running a fever. I'd say that is a good school that they know him well enough to recognize when he is not himself.

This makes me smile. Well, except that Ethan is sick. And Hilary is sick. Sigh. But let's look at the bright side.

Ever Changing

I'm not sure I'm ready for this. This January I'll have another child living abroad. Christopher & Lauren are still in Korea.

Sarabeth is headed to London.

Part of me wants to pack my bag and go with her, another part of me wants to tell her she's staying home and never going away. Then there's that last part. Sigh. It says she's going to a big city, in a foreign country. She needs to go. It will be a life changing adventure.

Years ago, my dad told me one of the reason teenagers are obnoxious, challenging your intelligence because they know everything, is so that when it comes time for them to move out, you are ready for them to go. I must be doing something wrong. If only they were still in their teen years.

When Sarabeth heads off to the UK, only 1 of our 5 kids will be living at home. Oh my goodness! One of these days NONE of them will be here. I cannot let that happen. What am I...oh wait, maybe I'm wrong. Elisabeth will still be here forever. I'm sure of it.

When Elisabeth was in 6th grade, she told me I was her best friend. I thanked her, and told her I wished that would always be, but in time she'd feel different. She vowed that she would never grow up and move away. I smiled, knowing otherwise. She promised that nothing could ever change her mind. I laughed, assuring her that one day she really would WANT to live somewhere else. With tears in her eyes she said, "not in a million years." I told her okay. Maybe she really meant it.

How cute is her new haircut? Sarabeth might have to get a matching one. We were told the water pressure in London is weak, and hot water runs out quickly. Sarabeth had hoped it was an isolated incident she experienced the first time she went to England. We were told yesterday this is common. I told her we have more than enough hot water here. She can keep her hair long if she stays home.