Sunday, November 12, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Silver Teeth
Mary, over at Owlhaven, wrote a post about scars. She asked others to post about their own scars. I didn't get it posted right away, so it is long past everyone else's post, but I'm going to post anyway.
Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We lived in this rented home with a cool ramp out the back door. I'm sure it was a wheelchair accessible door, but we kids found plenty of other uses for it. That winter, on a very cold night, we found that we could pour water down the ramp and it would freeze as it flowed. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.
This night, my parents had guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content to sit there and talk, we slipped out the back. We needed more ice on our slope. Bucket after bucket was poured until we had one of the finest ice slides. Then the fun began. We raced one another down the ice wearing the slickest shoes we could find. Only 2 kids could race at a time and my older brother and sister were quite competitive. I wasn't getting too many turns while they practiced and had opportunity to strategize the quickest way down. Finally it was my turn again.
Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I found myself falling face first onto the ice. I don't remember much after that. I do recall blood dripping down and my sister trying to keep me from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think my other sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.
My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad, but my parents were more concerned with my missing teeth. Our company knew of a dentist who worked emergencies. After a couple of phone calls we were in the car, off to see the dentist. I came home with two new shiny silver teeth and a fat lip. The next day, my brother found my two front teeth stuck in the ice.
Truthfully, this isn't a scar, but I wore those silver teeth like a scar. When I smiled, people were blinded by the reflection off of those two teeth. That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." And I sang it until I was 18 years old. I finished my elementary career wearing those tinsel teeth. I went on to junior high and high school, sporting that metalic smile. I endured much teasing and laughter because of this scar. At times I felt like a freak. But somehow, I believe it built compassion and tenderness into my heart. Scars can be character building. They can be a reminder of what once was, or we can embrace them, knowing our Lord also has scars.
(Honestly, it is difficult to post, but I had to include a picture. This was one of my school pictures from 7th grade.)
Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We lived in this rented home with a cool ramp out the back door. I'm sure it was a wheelchair accessible door, but we kids found plenty of other uses for it. That winter, on a very cold night, we found that we could pour water down the ramp and it would freeze as it flowed. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.
This night, my parents had guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content to sit there and talk, we slipped out the back. We needed more ice on our slope. Bucket after bucket was poured until we had one of the finest ice slides. Then the fun began. We raced one another down the ice wearing the slickest shoes we could find. Only 2 kids could race at a time and my older brother and sister were quite competitive. I wasn't getting too many turns while they practiced and had opportunity to strategize the quickest way down. Finally it was my turn again.
Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I found myself falling face first onto the ice. I don't remember much after that. I do recall blood dripping down and my sister trying to keep me from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think my other sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.
My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad, but my parents were more concerned with my missing teeth. Our company knew of a dentist who worked emergencies. After a couple of phone calls we were in the car, off to see the dentist. I came home with two new shiny silver teeth and a fat lip. The next day, my brother found my two front teeth stuck in the ice.
Truthfully, this isn't a scar, but I wore those silver teeth like a scar. When I smiled, people were blinded by the reflection off of those two teeth. That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." And I sang it until I was 18 years old. I finished my elementary career wearing those tinsel teeth. I went on to junior high and high school, sporting that metalic smile. I endured much teasing and laughter because of this scar. At times I felt like a freak. But somehow, I believe it built compassion and tenderness into my heart. Scars can be character building. They can be a reminder of what once was, or we can embrace them, knowing our Lord also has scars.
(Honestly, it is difficult to post, but I had to include a picture. This was one of my school pictures from 7th grade.)
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Tense
I am feeling tense this morning, and this is not normal for me. I do not like getting phone calls at unusual times and am wondering if this is the source of some anxiety.
It is 7:20a.m. and at this time yesterday I received one of those phone calls. Caller ID showed that it was one of my girls who'd left for school. What did she forget now, I wondered. (But for a second, there is always that fear that there has been an accident.)
"Mom, we ran out of gas on the highway. But don't worry, it was close to the exit and we walked to the gas station and got a gas can. Just thought I'd let you know."
My first thought was why is the 14 year old calling and not the 17 year old. The second was disbelief. You mean the car died, they coasted down the off ramp, walked to a gas station, bought a gas can with gas all BEFORE calling home for help?
Michael walked in as I hung up the phone. He felt bad about the girls running out of gas. He is notorious for telling Sarabeth "oh you have plenty of gas, you could go another 50 or 60 miles on that tank of gas." And she probably could have, if we hadn't drove it 50 miles on Saturday. Oh, and I was the one who filled the tank last, and forgot to reset the mileage for about 10 miles making it inaccurate. Guilt.
That's not to excuse the person driving the car, as if she doesn't know how to look at the gas guage. And she had intended to get gas on the way home from school. Instead, she had an unexpected adventure on the way to school.
I am proud of them for being able to handle the situation, but maybe that is why I am feeling tense. What if they were in an accident? Would they wait to call until after the police came, after they'd gone to the hospital? Can I know longer look at the clock and rest easy that they are already safely at school based on the time alone? Even though I was happy they handled it, I'm concerned that one of them might be afraid to call home when something happens that they perceive was irresponsible on their part. So they try to take care of it on their own to make us proud. I am left to wonder if they are sitting safely in school, or on the side of the road somewhere dealing with who knows what. Ugh! It isn't easy being a parent and knowing the right thing to do.
It is 7:20a.m. and at this time yesterday I received one of those phone calls. Caller ID showed that it was one of my girls who'd left for school. What did she forget now, I wondered. (But for a second, there is always that fear that there has been an accident.)
"Mom, we ran out of gas on the highway. But don't worry, it was close to the exit and we walked to the gas station and got a gas can. Just thought I'd let you know."
My first thought was why is the 14 year old calling and not the 17 year old. The second was disbelief. You mean the car died, they coasted down the off ramp, walked to a gas station, bought a gas can with gas all BEFORE calling home for help?
Michael walked in as I hung up the phone. He felt bad about the girls running out of gas. He is notorious for telling Sarabeth "oh you have plenty of gas, you could go another 50 or 60 miles on that tank of gas." And she probably could have, if we hadn't drove it 50 miles on Saturday. Oh, and I was the one who filled the tank last, and forgot to reset the mileage for about 10 miles making it inaccurate. Guilt.
That's not to excuse the person driving the car, as if she doesn't know how to look at the gas guage. And she had intended to get gas on the way home from school. Instead, she had an unexpected adventure on the way to school.
I am proud of them for being able to handle the situation, but maybe that is why I am feeling tense. What if they were in an accident? Would they wait to call until after the police came, after they'd gone to the hospital? Can I know longer look at the clock and rest easy that they are already safely at school based on the time alone? Even though I was happy they handled it, I'm concerned that one of them might be afraid to call home when something happens that they perceive was irresponsible on their part. So they try to take care of it on their own to make us proud. I am left to wonder if they are sitting safely in school, or on the side of the road somewhere dealing with who knows what. Ugh! It isn't easy being a parent and knowing the right thing to do.
Friday, November 03, 2006
What Matters Today
This is what I woke up to this morning. After we'd gone to bed last night, Elisabeth went up to the store, bought flowers and a card. She'd written a lovely note thanking us for being there for her, especially during the tough times of high school and for loving her through them. (Have I mentioned how much fun teenagers are?) Sure there are bumps along the way, but you also begin to see their character taking shape. As you turn them loose, watch them struggle through mistakes, do the right thing, it is pure joy to a parent's heart. (And even more so as they move beyond those years and they make you ever so proud as you watch them become adults.) Thank-you Elisabeth.
But this got me to thinking, what am I doing that counts? Did I do anything today that made a difference? So, I wanted to put out a challenge to anyone who reads this. Today go above and beyond in some small (or big) way to make a difference in someone else's life.
That might mean sending a text message to remind someone you love them. Or when that kid spills her milk for the 3rd time instead of yelling like you want to, you lean over, kiss her forehead and tell her it's ok and that you are so thankful you get to be her mommy. Maybe you are standing in line at the grocery store and get in the absolute slowest line. The person behind you is muttering unkind things under their breath so you let them go ahead of you and say something kind to them-or to the checker who is going as fast as humanly possible (or maybe is just taking their time.) While you are going about your day, whether it is planned or something that happens spontaneously that you think of because of this challenge do something that counts. Then come back and leave a comment about what you did. (Or put it on your own blog and leave the link.)
Let the count begin!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Brian
Elisabeth met Brian at work when he began coming by the house. He seemed like a nice enough kid. It was difficult to get to know him because he usually didn’t arrive until after 10 o'clock at night. I know teenagers often keep late schedules but I became increasingly annoyed that he came over so late. Elisabeth was 18 and she had graduated from high school, so I chose not to say anything.
We didn't see Brian for a while. He took a job at a ski resort for the winter. Occasionally Elisabeth would mention his name, but nothing significant. Sometime in May Brian came over again. He had moved back. I asked her what he was doing now. Would he be going to go to school in the fall? Did he have a job? Elisabeth wasn't sure. His late night visits began again. I found myself getting irritated that he rarely came over during the day, just at night.
One night as I headed to bed, I stopped to preset the coffee and layout the lunches for the next morning. Brian had just arrived and he was sitting at the kitchen table with Elisabeth. I overheard their conversation.
"Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" She asked.
"It is just wrong that a kid has to put his father to bed every night." Brian put his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes to keep the tears from falling.
Brian's dad has Lou Gehrig's disease or ALS. Brian's mom and dad are divorced and much of his father's care falls to Brian. His dad is wheelchair bound and requires help getting into bed. Brian isn't free to leave his home until his father is safely tucked in at night.
Yes, it does seem wrong for a kid, or teenager to have to put his father in bed at night. Not every teen that stays up late does so by choice.
We didn't see Brian for a while. He took a job at a ski resort for the winter. Occasionally Elisabeth would mention his name, but nothing significant. Sometime in May Brian came over again. He had moved back. I asked her what he was doing now. Would he be going to go to school in the fall? Did he have a job? Elisabeth wasn't sure. His late night visits began again. I found myself getting irritated that he rarely came over during the day, just at night.
One night as I headed to bed, I stopped to preset the coffee and layout the lunches for the next morning. Brian had just arrived and he was sitting at the kitchen table with Elisabeth. I overheard their conversation.
"Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" She asked.
"It is just wrong that a kid has to put his father to bed every night." Brian put his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes to keep the tears from falling.
Brian's dad has Lou Gehrig's disease or ALS. Brian's mom and dad are divorced and much of his father's care falls to Brian. His dad is wheelchair bound and requires help getting into bed. Brian isn't free to leave his home until his father is safely tucked in at night.
Yes, it does seem wrong for a kid, or teenager to have to put his father in bed at night. Not every teen that stays up late does so by choice.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Halloween Memories
My mom was so cool about making costumes. I was blessed with creative, imaginative, homemade costumes every year. Somewhere there are pictures to prove this, I just wish I had them.
When I was in second grade, my mom decided my younger sister and I would be martians. I loved the idea. Nobody in my class was ever dressed the same as me. I was unique. My sister, on the other hand, wanted to be like everybody else. I think she wanted to be a ballerina. There were probably 7 ballerinas in my class that year. (All of the lucky girls who took dance classes, and whose parents were not as creative.) I,unlike anyone else but my sister, had this pointy-hat, green polka-dotted, space kind of outfit. It was cool. Mine was green. Laurie's was pink. Somewhere there is a picture of us together. There I am in all my glory, and there my sister is, arms in the air, toes pointed with one leg up in her most ballerina kind of way while wearing this martian space suit.
Makes me wonder if she remembers this. Could have been one of those childhood traumatic experiences for her, while I have nothing but fond memories.
When I was in second grade, my mom decided my younger sister and I would be martians. I loved the idea. Nobody in my class was ever dressed the same as me. I was unique. My sister, on the other hand, wanted to be like everybody else. I think she wanted to be a ballerina. There were probably 7 ballerinas in my class that year. (All of the lucky girls who took dance classes, and whose parents were not as creative.) I,unlike anyone else but my sister, had this pointy-hat, green polka-dotted, space kind of outfit. It was cool. Mine was green. Laurie's was pink. Somewhere there is a picture of us together. There I am in all my glory, and there my sister is, arms in the air, toes pointed with one leg up in her most ballerina kind of way while wearing this martian space suit.
Makes me wonder if she remembers this. Could have been one of those childhood traumatic experiences for her, while I have nothing but fond memories.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Batteries
I walked in the room to see Michael pulling my cell phone from my purse.
"You caught me," he said matter-of-fact. Then proceeded to remove my battery.
"So what are you doing?"
"My battery is dead, so I'm swapping it for yours."
Ah, since he was golfing he needed a freshly charged battery and I have no where to be so I can stay home and charge mine. But today I had a lot of errands to run...sigh. I have no life.
A few days ago I plugged my phone into the charger and it didn't work. "What the...my charger won't work."
"Oh yes it does." (This response from my daughter Elisabeth.) "You just have to hold it just right, and move the cord like this until it starts charging."
"And you know this why?"
"I swapped chargers with you."
Oh, I see. The charger works perfectly fine for someone who has no life and can sit and play with the cord until it is working. But for someone who has places to be and doesn't have time....sigh. I have no life.
So what was I doing this morning with my freshly charged battery? I was swapping it out for Hilary's dead one. She, in her most generous way, loaned her charger to a friend who'd left hers at someone's house. She assumed since we have 5 of the same phones and chargers here, it wasn't a big deal. She's right. The mom volunteered her battery without even being asked, since she has no life.
(A P.S. For those who are curious, no I did NOT make the game Friday night. It was one of those fierce debates that goes on in my head and when I finally decided to go I began to second guess whether I'd REALLY make it in time. By the time that wrestling match was decided, I knew I would be late. To make up for it, I stayed at the performance on Saturday for 5 hours, even though the girls dance was only 3 minutes long.)
"You caught me," he said matter-of-fact. Then proceeded to remove my battery.
"So what are you doing?"
"My battery is dead, so I'm swapping it for yours."
Ah, since he was golfing he needed a freshly charged battery and I have no where to be so I can stay home and charge mine. But today I had a lot of errands to run...sigh. I have no life.
A few days ago I plugged my phone into the charger and it didn't work. "What the...my charger won't work."
"Oh yes it does." (This response from my daughter Elisabeth.) "You just have to hold it just right, and move the cord like this until it starts charging."
"And you know this why?"
"I swapped chargers with you."
Oh, I see. The charger works perfectly fine for someone who has no life and can sit and play with the cord until it is working. But for someone who has places to be and doesn't have time....sigh. I have no life.
So what was I doing this morning with my freshly charged battery? I was swapping it out for Hilary's dead one. She, in her most generous way, loaned her charger to a friend who'd left hers at someone's house. She assumed since we have 5 of the same phones and chargers here, it wasn't a big deal. She's right. The mom volunteered her battery without even being asked, since she has no life.
(A P.S. For those who are curious, no I did NOT make the game Friday night. It was one of those fierce debates that goes on in my head and when I finally decided to go I began to second guess whether I'd REALLY make it in time. By the time that wrestling match was decided, I knew I would be late. To make up for it, I stayed at the performance on Saturday for 5 hours, even though the girls dance was only 3 minutes long.)
Friday, October 27, 2006
Sigh
I'm sitting here, listening to Christmas music and feeling incredibly guilty. Christmas music???? Yes. Two days ago I saw my neighbors Christmas lights going up, so I figured if they could put their lights up, then I could listen to music. No, they aren't for Halloween. These are CHRISTMAS lights. They have this sweet deal. A company comes out and puts them all up for them. Then sometime after Christmas they bring their trucks and ladders and take them all down. They even store them during the rest of the year. I have no idea how much it costs, but sounds pretty sweet if you ask me. So, as I said before, if they can have their Christmas lights up, I can listen to Christmas music.
Oh, you want to know why I'm sitting her feeling guilty? No, no, it isn't because I don't have my lights up, or because I'm listening to Christmas music before Halloween. No, not anything like that. It is Friday afternoon. Hilary is at a football game and I am not there. I try not to ever miss my kids games. (No, she doesn't play football.) But she is on the Pom line and they perform during half time.
So why am I not there? Well, I could say that it is because I still am not feeling well, but when does that ever stop me? Maybe it is because they've been doing "mini-poms" all week. That is where younger girls come and the Poms teach them a dance over several days. They then perform at the football game. So technically, Hilary isn't really performing. She is dancing with them, but it is a simple dance and really for the younger girls and their parents to come watch. (We went to many "mini-cheerleading" performances when my girls were in elementary school.)
I know, I should be more supportive. But tomorrow Hilary has an all day competition that I will be at for her. Doesn't that count? Can't that count for a football game too? Shoot! If I leave right now, I can still make half-time and see her perform. I better get off the computer and get my shoes on. I don't like feeling guilty.
Oh, you want to know why I'm sitting her feeling guilty? No, no, it isn't because I don't have my lights up, or because I'm listening to Christmas music before Halloween. No, not anything like that. It is Friday afternoon. Hilary is at a football game and I am not there. I try not to ever miss my kids games. (No, she doesn't play football.) But she is on the Pom line and they perform during half time.
So why am I not there? Well, I could say that it is because I still am not feeling well, but when does that ever stop me? Maybe it is because they've been doing "mini-poms" all week. That is where younger girls come and the Poms teach them a dance over several days. They then perform at the football game. So technically, Hilary isn't really performing. She is dancing with them, but it is a simple dance and really for the younger girls and their parents to come watch. (We went to many "mini-cheerleading" performances when my girls were in elementary school.)
I know, I should be more supportive. But tomorrow Hilary has an all day competition that I will be at for her. Doesn't that count? Can't that count for a football game too? Shoot! If I leave right now, I can still make half-time and see her perform. I better get off the computer and get my shoes on. I don't like feeling guilty.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Behind
Well as you can tell, I've been behind in blogland once again. I was getting so tired of myself, I finally broke down and went to the doctor yesterday to get treated for this sinus infection. I am hoping in the next couple of days I will feel "normal" once again. I have several posts begun and saved that I WILL get to. For now, you have to enjoy Colorado with me. The first photo was taken this morning. The second this afternoon. Notice the sunshine (it is the same tree and hedge.)
Did I mention that I LOVE Colorado???
Did I mention that I LOVE Colorado???
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Yum
Mmmmm...Delicious
I didn't get to sleep in this morning, but as the sun began to come up the freshly fallen snow glistened in the light. Every tree was covered in sparkling white-just beautiful.
The carpool didn't show up, so I had to quickly dress and make the 40 minute roundtrip drive. But when I arrived home, I met the Fed-Ex man bearing gifts. I quickly opened the package to find some of these:
Six huge mouthwatering brownies and a bag of coffee beautifully wrapped with a note reading,
"A Surprise Treat! Take a well deserved break. Love, Mom & Dad"
Now is that a delicious morning or what? Brownies and coffee for breakfast in the peace and beauty of newly fallen snow. Just had to share.
P.S. Thanks Mom and Dad! And if anyone is interested in these delicious brownie gifts they come from Fairytale Brownies Mom has sent these before and they also have coffee, hot chocolate and everything is scrumptious. They come beautifully wrapped; makes you feel like royalty. I should have taken a picture of them. Try them out if you want to surprise someone with an exquisite chocolate treat.
I didn't get to sleep in this morning, but as the sun began to come up the freshly fallen snow glistened in the light. Every tree was covered in sparkling white-just beautiful.
The carpool didn't show up, so I had to quickly dress and make the 40 minute roundtrip drive. But when I arrived home, I met the Fed-Ex man bearing gifts. I quickly opened the package to find some of these:
Six huge mouthwatering brownies and a bag of coffee beautifully wrapped with a note reading,
"A Surprise Treat! Take a well deserved break. Love, Mom & Dad"
Now is that a delicious morning or what? Brownies and coffee for breakfast in the peace and beauty of newly fallen snow. Just had to share.
P.S. Thanks Mom and Dad! And if anyone is interested in these delicious brownie gifts they come from Fairytale Brownies Mom has sent these before and they also have coffee, hot chocolate and everything is scrumptious. They come beautifully wrapped; makes you feel like royalty. I should have taken a picture of them. Try them out if you want to surprise someone with an exquisite chocolate treat.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Wake Up
Beep! Beep! Beep! This is my alarm clock so rudely interrupting tranquility of the early morning. I despise being awakened by anything other than the sweet whimpering cry of a newborn babe, soft caress or warm embrace. Several years back, when I was no longer awakened by gentle, child noises, I set out to find a kinder alarm clock.
A clock radio. I do love music, so I could awaken to the soothing sounds of jazz, a melodic country jig, a powerful praise to the Father-any radio station I pleased. Unfortunately, this did not prove to be a peaceful move. We live near a beautiful mountain. It makes for a lovely view, but blocks out many radio stations. Too often I awakened to white noise or "snow," or those old enough to remember. It was was produced when television stations would sign off at night. (Yes, for you young ones, there was a time in the wee hours of the night that one could turn on the idiot box to find nothing but fuzz on their screens-signaling a time for activity to cease.) This static noise was not the wake up call I desired, so I returned to the beep.
I was well aware that I could purchase a CD clock radio. The problem is I was too cheap to do that. I figured I would wait for the price to drop. Eventually, it did. I began looking at them in various stores. But one day I happened across a clock with nature sounds. Ah, now this might work. It was actually cheaper than any of the CD alarm clocks, so I went for it. Chirping birds, singing crickets, bubbling water. It worked for a couple of days. But my grandson was fascinated by this new electronic device with big buttons and regularly changed my preferences. He also liked the big off button and I enjoyed a few times of sleeping in later than I should have. It found its way into the trash can beside the bed. (It didn't hold up well to the abuse it sustained.)
I'd waited long enough for pleasant early mornings. I bought a CD clock. Excitedly, I placed my current favorite disc into the slot. I then spent quite a long time figuring out how to work the blasted thing. There were 2 alarm options-his and hers I can only assume. Totally unnecessary. Michael has never used an alarm clock in the 23 years we've been married. Where was the snooze button? Ooops, that turns on the radio. That is the selection for which song on the disc I want to hear. Nap feature-when accidently set, the alarm goes off 20 minutes after laying down. I can adjust the snooze from 9 minutes to 20. Shoot! I just picked 6 p.m. to awaken. Grrr...the format was nothing like any of the others I'd had. How was I going to adjust this one in the dark if the need should arise? Could I tell late Friday night whether or not I'd turned it off so my one day to sleep in wouldn't be disturbed? Ugh!
It was not a wise thing to use my favorite CD. Too often I would play it during the day with the volume turned up so I could hear it better, only to find it blast me out of bed the next morning. Or I would swipe the disc for my listening pleasure while driving my car. Then there would be lovely white noise, or worse-silence. I began to believe there was a conspiracy. Possibly, someone was trying to tell me I really shouldn't awaken so early in the morning. Really, I must need my sleep.
But then, something funny happened. One morning I awakened to the rousing anthem of the Star Spangled Banner. I'd pulled my CD the day before and in its place was a new radio station that was tuned. Wow, now I could get used to this patriotic nostalgia. Guess what? They played it every morning. I still fumbled for the snooze button, didn't remember which buttons did what, but life was good.
This morning I hit the snooze as usual. When I heard talk coming from the radio, I hit snooze again and fell back asleep. The third time music was playing. I could not believe I had hit snooze more than once. What was I thinking? I do not allow myself enough time to snooze more than once. I hastily swung my arm over the edge of the bed to turn the noise off before Michael's sleep was too disturbed. What in the...??? The numbers were blurry but that first digit looked much more like a 4 than a 6. I began pushing buttons trying to figure out if the second alarm had somehow been set for this earlier time, or if mine had been changed. I inadvertantly turned on the CD, then the radio. I could not make any of it out, but as I became more awake, I realized that my alarm had not gone off at all. I had not snoozed 3 times, only in a dream. Ok, maybe it was a nightmare, but who dreams about their alarm clock waking them up? Apparently I do. This whole thing must be more stressful than even I realized.
A clock radio. I do love music, so I could awaken to the soothing sounds of jazz, a melodic country jig, a powerful praise to the Father-any radio station I pleased. Unfortunately, this did not prove to be a peaceful move. We live near a beautiful mountain. It makes for a lovely view, but blocks out many radio stations. Too often I awakened to white noise or "snow," or those old enough to remember. It was was produced when television stations would sign off at night. (Yes, for you young ones, there was a time in the wee hours of the night that one could turn on the idiot box to find nothing but fuzz on their screens-signaling a time for activity to cease.) This static noise was not the wake up call I desired, so I returned to the beep.
I was well aware that I could purchase a CD clock radio. The problem is I was too cheap to do that. I figured I would wait for the price to drop. Eventually, it did. I began looking at them in various stores. But one day I happened across a clock with nature sounds. Ah, now this might work. It was actually cheaper than any of the CD alarm clocks, so I went for it. Chirping birds, singing crickets, bubbling water. It worked for a couple of days. But my grandson was fascinated by this new electronic device with big buttons and regularly changed my preferences. He also liked the big off button and I enjoyed a few times of sleeping in later than I should have. It found its way into the trash can beside the bed. (It didn't hold up well to the abuse it sustained.)
I'd waited long enough for pleasant early mornings. I bought a CD clock. Excitedly, I placed my current favorite disc into the slot. I then spent quite a long time figuring out how to work the blasted thing. There were 2 alarm options-his and hers I can only assume. Totally unnecessary. Michael has never used an alarm clock in the 23 years we've been married. Where was the snooze button? Ooops, that turns on the radio. That is the selection for which song on the disc I want to hear. Nap feature-when accidently set, the alarm goes off 20 minutes after laying down. I can adjust the snooze from 9 minutes to 20. Shoot! I just picked 6 p.m. to awaken. Grrr...the format was nothing like any of the others I'd had. How was I going to adjust this one in the dark if the need should arise? Could I tell late Friday night whether or not I'd turned it off so my one day to sleep in wouldn't be disturbed? Ugh!
It was not a wise thing to use my favorite CD. Too often I would play it during the day with the volume turned up so I could hear it better, only to find it blast me out of bed the next morning. Or I would swipe the disc for my listening pleasure while driving my car. Then there would be lovely white noise, or worse-silence. I began to believe there was a conspiracy. Possibly, someone was trying to tell me I really shouldn't awaken so early in the morning. Really, I must need my sleep.
But then, something funny happened. One morning I awakened to the rousing anthem of the Star Spangled Banner. I'd pulled my CD the day before and in its place was a new radio station that was tuned. Wow, now I could get used to this patriotic nostalgia. Guess what? They played it every morning. I still fumbled for the snooze button, didn't remember which buttons did what, but life was good.
This morning I hit the snooze as usual. When I heard talk coming from the radio, I hit snooze again and fell back asleep. The third time music was playing. I could not believe I had hit snooze more than once. What was I thinking? I do not allow myself enough time to snooze more than once. I hastily swung my arm over the edge of the bed to turn the noise off before Michael's sleep was too disturbed. What in the...??? The numbers were blurry but that first digit looked much more like a 4 than a 6. I began pushing buttons trying to figure out if the second alarm had somehow been set for this earlier time, or if mine had been changed. I inadvertantly turned on the CD, then the radio. I could not make any of it out, but as I became more awake, I realized that my alarm had not gone off at all. I had not snoozed 3 times, only in a dream. Ok, maybe it was a nightmare, but who dreams about their alarm clock waking them up? Apparently I do. This whole thing must be more stressful than even I realized.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
A Good Friend
Have you ever used this great little product? It was my best friend in each of my pregnancies. 
It coats your insides to keep heartburn away. I drank it out of a little plastic medicine cup. Immediately afterwards I would rinse it and place it in the dishwasher. But in taking out the clean dishes I would find the little cup still coated with this magical substance and I'd scrub it again. I knew it was powerful stuff if it could withstand that level of cleaning, imagine how nicely it must coat my stomach.
Sunday night Sarabeth wasn't feeeling well. She'd performed the last night of her high school play "The Philadelphia Story." (She also learned she was allergic to stage makeup, but that is another post.) I decided what she needed was this lovely medicine to soothe and protect her insides, so poured her out a little cup. Upon returning to the kitchen, though, the bottle had disappeared. Oh my! I found an empty bottle next to a huge puddle of soft green liquid, seeping into and coating the wooden floor. Walking from the puddle were white/green, perfect little foot prints atop my dark red carpet. Oh it was sort of Christmasy, it would have made a lovely stamped wrapping paper. The sticky steps wound around the corner, through the living room, along the dining room, and back to the bedroom. Ah, my entire upstairs was decorated in soft green footprint motif. Knowing how great this product coats I will be enjoying this picture for quite some time. Never again will I buy a bottle of this minty fresh goo.
It coats your insides to keep heartburn away. I drank it out of a little plastic medicine cup. Immediately afterwards I would rinse it and place it in the dishwasher. But in taking out the clean dishes I would find the little cup still coated with this magical substance and I'd scrub it again. I knew it was powerful stuff if it could withstand that level of cleaning, imagine how nicely it must coat my stomach.Sunday night Sarabeth wasn't feeeling well. She'd performed the last night of her high school play "The Philadelphia Story." (She also learned she was allergic to stage makeup, but that is another post.) I decided what she needed was this lovely medicine to soothe and protect her insides, so poured her out a little cup. Upon returning to the kitchen, though, the bottle had disappeared. Oh my! I found an empty bottle next to a huge puddle of soft green liquid, seeping into and coating the wooden floor. Walking from the puddle were white/green, perfect little foot prints atop my dark red carpet. Oh it was sort of Christmasy, it would have made a lovely stamped wrapping paper. The sticky steps wound around the corner, through the living room, along the dining room, and back to the bedroom. Ah, my entire upstairs was decorated in soft green footprint motif. Knowing how great this product coats I will be enjoying this picture for quite some time. Never again will I buy a bottle of this minty fresh goo.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Text Message
Last week I received this text message:
Hey ma. Just wanted to say hi and i love you!
Aren't text messages the best? This one was sent by my favorite son. (Yes, I know I only have one, but he's still my favorite one.) Does it get any better than this? Actually it does. I thanked him for such a sweet message and he wrote back:
Well you were on my mind and i wanted you to know how much i appreciate you on a daily basis
Did I mention how much I love text messaging? (Thanks Christopher-YOU are the best!)
Hey ma. Just wanted to say hi and i love you!
Aren't text messages the best? This one was sent by my favorite son. (Yes, I know I only have one, but he's still my favorite one.) Does it get any better than this? Actually it does. I thanked him for such a sweet message and he wrote back:
Well you were on my mind and i wanted you to know how much i appreciate you on a daily basis
Did I mention how much I love text messaging? (Thanks Christopher-YOU are the best!)
Monday, October 09, 2006
First Date
Her head was pounding, she could barely swallow her throat was so sore. What was she thinking when she agreed to meet him for dinner? Partly she was curious. He seemed like a decent guy. She passed on the lunch invitation in his plane. She did not have that kind of time and wouldn't have been able to take off of work. If she'd gone on a weekend it would have robbed her of time spent with her daughter. No, meeting on her way home from work was about the only option and it wouldn't cost any extra for the extended childcare. If only she hadn't felt so lousy.
She pulled her car into the parking lot and looked around. He said he'd be in a white BMW. He was already there. She should have brought a change of clothes and freshened up a bit. In spite of wearing an apron, she'd spilled coffee on her pants. Her nose was stuffy and she couldn't tell, but figured she was wearing the scent of fried foods and cigarette smoke. He got out of his car when she pulled up. Darn! No time to even put on lip gloss or check her hair in the mirror. He was walking towards her.
He greeted her warmly, as if she'd just spent the last hour puttin on her best. She was glad the restaurant wasn't well lit. Maybe he wouldn't notice too much. She quickly took her seat as the hostess handed her a menu.
"Can I get you something to drink?" It felt a bit strange being on the other side of an order.
"Yes, could I have a glass of peach brandy?" She was hoping it would numb her aching throat.
"And for you sir?" The waitress turned to him.
"No thanks. I don't drink."
Stupid! It hadn't even occured to her that he might not drink. She was used to her husband who not only smoked and drank, but used drugs also. She wanted to say that normally she didn't drink but was only having the brandy because of her sore throat. But truthfully, she had been drinking lately. It took the edge off of her stress. She mumbled something about her sore throat and the brandy, but felt foolish. He seemed to have so much class.
They sat there making small talk. Her brandy arrived. It went down pretty smooth. Maybe she had been drinking too much. After a bit her throat was definately feeling a bit of numbness. In fact, it was feeling so much better, she thought she might be able to smoke a cigarette. There was a lull in the conversation, so she reached down into her purse to retrieve her smokes.
"Oooh, I hate that," he said looking across the room.
Turning her head that direction while still leaning over she asked, "what?"
"Women who smoke." Her hand was already moving the package up towards the table. Immediately she threw it back into her purse, but she'd already placed her lighter in her other hand. She sat upright.
"You don't smoke, do you?" he queried.
"Uh, no...well," she felt very sheepish. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was just reaching for my cigarettes when you said that." She laughed out loud. She didn't know what else to do. She certainly wasn't making a very good impression. When she got nervous she laughed-even at very inappropriate times.
"What's so funny?" He wanted to know. She wished she'd never agreed to this meeting. She hadn't always been this way. Nobody in her family smoked or drank. She'd only started because she'd been around it so much in her marriage. He on the other hand was thinking she was laughing at him because he was such a nerd. He'd never so much as tried a cigarette and wasn't even remotely interested in drinking and making a fool of himself.
The rest of the evening is just a blur. And that is how my first date with Michael began.
She pulled her car into the parking lot and looked around. He said he'd be in a white BMW. He was already there. She should have brought a change of clothes and freshened up a bit. In spite of wearing an apron, she'd spilled coffee on her pants. Her nose was stuffy and she couldn't tell, but figured she was wearing the scent of fried foods and cigarette smoke. He got out of his car when she pulled up. Darn! No time to even put on lip gloss or check her hair in the mirror. He was walking towards her.
He greeted her warmly, as if she'd just spent the last hour puttin on her best. She was glad the restaurant wasn't well lit. Maybe he wouldn't notice too much. She quickly took her seat as the hostess handed her a menu.
"Can I get you something to drink?" It felt a bit strange being on the other side of an order.
"Yes, could I have a glass of peach brandy?" She was hoping it would numb her aching throat.
"And for you sir?" The waitress turned to him.
"No thanks. I don't drink."
Stupid! It hadn't even occured to her that he might not drink. She was used to her husband who not only smoked and drank, but used drugs also. She wanted to say that normally she didn't drink but was only having the brandy because of her sore throat. But truthfully, she had been drinking lately. It took the edge off of her stress. She mumbled something about her sore throat and the brandy, but felt foolish. He seemed to have so much class.
They sat there making small talk. Her brandy arrived. It went down pretty smooth. Maybe she had been drinking too much. After a bit her throat was definately feeling a bit of numbness. In fact, it was feeling so much better, she thought she might be able to smoke a cigarette. There was a lull in the conversation, so she reached down into her purse to retrieve her smokes.
"Oooh, I hate that," he said looking across the room.
Turning her head that direction while still leaning over she asked, "what?"
"Women who smoke." Her hand was already moving the package up towards the table. Immediately she threw it back into her purse, but she'd already placed her lighter in her other hand. She sat upright.
"You don't smoke, do you?" he queried.
"Uh, no...well," she felt very sheepish. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was just reaching for my cigarettes when you said that." She laughed out loud. She didn't know what else to do. She certainly wasn't making a very good impression. When she got nervous she laughed-even at very inappropriate times.
"What's so funny?" He wanted to know. She wished she'd never agreed to this meeting. She hadn't always been this way. Nobody in her family smoked or drank. She'd only started because she'd been around it so much in her marriage. He on the other hand was thinking she was laughing at him because he was such a nerd. He'd never so much as tried a cigarette and wasn't even remotely interested in drinking and making a fool of himself.
The rest of the evening is just a blur. And that is how my first date with Michael began.
Down
I hope to be back up and blogging in a more regular, timely fashion. Somehow I managed to be under-the-weather. My brain is only functioning as far as being able to grab a box of tissues, along with some cold medicine, and prop my body up in a comfortable chair. I've been trying to catch up on reading some blogs, but can hardly manage to bring myself to comment. My brain must seriously be working out, diverting all its energy to healing. It certainly is not in creative mode, or even think intelligently.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
I awoke with a stye on my eye, a cold sore on my lip, and cramps. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I decided to make eggs for breakfast. Then I remembered that the night before I set some frozen chicken not-so-gently, on my glass stove top. It shattered and was going to cost over $500 to fix. So I threw some bagels in the toaster, but somebody left the toaster on high and they burned. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
The men were coming to replace our heater. I was happy because we've already had some cold days. But I forgot to remove everything from the laundry room before they got there. I was still in my pajamas when they arrived. I hate having men working in my house and showering with no hot water.
It was my day to drive the carpool, only I'd made a mistake and it wasn't. I had to take Ethan home, which is a 3 hour drive, unless there is construction on the highway and it takes 4. We sat down to dinner at 6 to eat homemade soup, only it wasn't done. It was still chunky. I would have taken it out of the crockpot and put it on the stove, but what was I thinking? My stove was still broken. We ate the soup anyway, with cold bread. It was going a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I'm going to bed. Tomorrow, I think I'll move to Australia.
I awoke with a stye on my eye, a cold sore on my lip, and cramps. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I decided to make eggs for breakfast. Then I remembered that the night before I set some frozen chicken not-so-gently, on my glass stove top. It shattered and was going to cost over $500 to fix. So I threw some bagels in the toaster, but somebody left the toaster on high and they burned. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
The men were coming to replace our heater. I was happy because we've already had some cold days. But I forgot to remove everything from the laundry room before they got there. I was still in my pajamas when they arrived. I hate having men working in my house and showering with no hot water.
It was my day to drive the carpool, only I'd made a mistake and it wasn't. I had to take Ethan home, which is a 3 hour drive, unless there is construction on the highway and it takes 4. We sat down to dinner at 6 to eat homemade soup, only it wasn't done. It was still chunky. I would have taken it out of the crockpot and put it on the stove, but what was I thinking? My stove was still broken. We ate the soup anyway, with cold bread. It was going a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I'm going to bed. Tomorrow, I think I'll move to Australia.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Interruptions
None of us knows what today holds. I can look at my calendar or my to-do list and see what is scheduled, but how often is that a true picture of the day? Saturday I blocked off the entire day for the big Homecoming Game and Dance two of my girls were planning to attend. It's a good thing. It took the entire day. (Wish I could post a picture of the two of them together, but the timing was off and we had to rush out the door with one to get to the festivities.) I was exhausted by 8:00p.m. My girlfriend called; the one who helped so much getting the girls ready. She wanted to go to a movie. All I really wanted to do was rest, but went anyway.
Sunday morning I get a call, "Can you come get me ASAP?" I was still dripping from the shower. I don't like leaving the house with wet hair and no makeup, but I did. I could tell from my daughters voice something wasn't quite right. Apparently, she'd awoke with violent protests originating from her stomach. I wish she'd warned me BEFORE I left the house. I would never have taken my, never-been-vomitted-in car.
On Monday, I was a bit behind from the weekend. This is also my grocery shopping day. Michael had a 9 a.m. Dr. appointment that I agreed to go to with him. Walking out the door, my cell phone rings. It is another daughter. I missed the call, so phoned her back as we were driving. I hear a quivering voice, "What are you doing?" I quickly give her the details and ask what is wrong. "How soon can you get here? I am going to the ER and I need someone to take Ethan." I told her I'd be there as soon as we were finished at the appointment. Why is it when you are in a hurry the doctor is running an hour late for his first appointment of the day?
I look at my calendar for today. I need to add grocery shopping to the list. I don't know what today will hold or what phone call I may get. But I know the One who does. And if I listen, I will be prepared for interruptions. I need to pay attention to the little promptings that in retrospect I will see the pieces of the puzzle fitting together. Saturday I left a towel in my car that I needed on Sunday. Last week I made an extra pan of enchiladas and put it in the freezer. It made a nice dinner when I wasn't here. I normally don't freeze that last bit of roast beef, but I packed 2 lovely sandwiches into lunch boxes this morning. If I am attentive to that still, small voice, I can have peace in the midst of the storm.
Sunday morning I get a call, "Can you come get me ASAP?" I was still dripping from the shower. I don't like leaving the house with wet hair and no makeup, but I did. I could tell from my daughters voice something wasn't quite right. Apparently, she'd awoke with violent protests originating from her stomach. I wish she'd warned me BEFORE I left the house. I would never have taken my, never-been-vomitted-in car.
On Monday, I was a bit behind from the weekend. This is also my grocery shopping day. Michael had a 9 a.m. Dr. appointment that I agreed to go to with him. Walking out the door, my cell phone rings. It is another daughter. I missed the call, so phoned her back as we were driving. I hear a quivering voice, "What are you doing?" I quickly give her the details and ask what is wrong. "How soon can you get here? I am going to the ER and I need someone to take Ethan." I told her I'd be there as soon as we were finished at the appointment. Why is it when you are in a hurry the doctor is running an hour late for his first appointment of the day?
I look at my calendar for today. I need to add grocery shopping to the list. I don't know what today will hold or what phone call I may get. But I know the One who does. And if I listen, I will be prepared for interruptions. I need to pay attention to the little promptings that in retrospect I will see the pieces of the puzzle fitting together. Saturday I left a towel in my car that I needed on Sunday. Last week I made an extra pan of enchiladas and put it in the freezer. It made a nice dinner when I wasn't here. I normally don't freeze that last bit of roast beef, but I packed 2 lovely sandwiches into lunch boxes this morning. If I am attentive to that still, small voice, I can have peace in the midst of the storm.
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