Thanksgiving and after

Thanksgiving was good for us. I worked diligently, according to a list I prepared, and accomplished everything I needed to accomplish without losing my sanity. It made Thanksgiving Day so much more enjoyable. (I did have a bit of an anxiety attack on Wednesday preceding, when my 9-person dinner, in a matter of 4 hours, turned into a 19-person dinner. I had to go to WalMart and pick up a few more things. Then I had to cook some more things. Fortunately, I always overestimate how much I food we will need, so we were ok.) I only had a little bit to do on the day before people began arriving. It was festive and relaxing. I enjoyed it immensely.

Black Friday
Friday morning I woke at 3:40am. I met some friends at WalMart, while T went to Best Buy and Circuit City. I left at 5:00 and went to a few more places, dropped things at home, and then went to a few more places. I met T and my friends for breakfast at IHOP. I did some more shopping, went home again, and did some more shopping. Finally, we ended our day on the couch watching a movie. I went to bed at about 11:00pm satisfied and sure I was going to finally get some rest after a week with none. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

At 2:00am my phone rang. It was my father. Now, any normal person would be immediately alarmed at a 2:00am phone call. However, normal people do not have my father in their lives. He or my mother calls us at ridiculous hours for not terribly important reasons at least once a month. Groggy and irritated, I answered the phone. At first, his phone cut out, and I couldn’t make out what he said. It had something to do with my grandparents. I was immediately more alert.

“What?” I asked him.

“Your Grandma and Papaw’s house just burned to the ground,” he said evenly.

I couldn’t breathe for a second. “What!?!! I don’t understand. What? How…” I couldn’t think. My aunt and uncle live there with their 4 year old niece, their 18-year-old son, their grown pregnant daughter, her husband, and their 9-month-old son, who was born at 25 weeks and has tremendous problems. My grandparents rotate between living there and staying in their travel trailer on our denomination’s campground property in Sparks. “Is everyone okay?” It was all I could think of. He said that everyone made it out, and he and my mom were on their way in.

By that time, T was awake. I laid back down beside him, stunned and unsure what to do. We talked for a few minutes about whether we should head over or if we would just be in the way. I called my aunt and my cousin. Both were so hysterical that I could barely make out what they were saying. We realized that neither of us was going to get any more sleep, so we got up and dressed and went to the house.

When we turned onto the street several blocks away, we could see the fire trucks’ lights. There was no way t get close, so we parked several houses down and walked. There were five fire trucks and it seemed like hundreds of firemen (there were probably only 15 or 20). Freezing wind was blowing like crazy and sliced right through my sweatshirt. We trudged through the soggy yard (there was water everywhere) to find my family.

I can’t really tell you everything that followed. It felt so unreal. My grandparent’s house, the house my dad grew up in, the house from my childhood memories, the house I brought my son home from the hospital to, the house they have had for 40 years, was charred. The bricks were still standing, but black smoke poured out of large glassless windows. An occasional flame jumped out of the attic. My aunt sobbed into my father’s chest, “Oh Ricky! My Daddy’s house, my daddy’s house! Oh Ricky it’s gone!” My dad smoothed her hair and told her that everything was going to be ok as long as all the people were ok.

I walked from person to person, place to place, not really knowing what I was doing or where I was going. Everything just seemed so unreal. People were crying or consoling, and everyone had that same wide-eyed disbelieving look on their faces. From what we could see through the windows, everything was gone. It was all black and bleak. For the rest of the night, we all rotated between wandering, as I had been doing, and warming in another cousin’s house that sits toward the back of my grandparents’ property.

Fortunately, my grandparent’s were in Sparks at the time. They had called my grandfather immediately, and he wanted to come right then. My cousin Robert, who lives in the little house, talked him out of coming until it was lighter. He arrived around 6:00am.

T & I went home at about six and slept until nine. We spent most of the day Saturday with my family at what was left of the house. Shortly after we came back, we toured the house. I’ve seen things about the devastation of fire on the news. Intellectually, I understand what it can do. I’ve seen fire burn things. But none of that prepared me for what I experienced walking through the house. Everything was gone. Melody, the 4year old, had a large pink plastic princess toddler bed. It was completely melted. We walked over piles of ashes of who knows what everywhere. Rooms the fire had not actually touched were black with smoke. Everything that was not burned, was melted—televisions, computers, DVDs, hangers, the baby’s continuous feed. It was incredible. The back porch/utility room had held shelves and shelves of my granparents’ things. Everything was gone. There were only pieces of the ceramic Christmas trees my grandmother made when I was a child. Many things were melted together and you couldn’t tell what you were looking at. Other things were just piles of ash or burned beyond recognition.

Last week was an emotional roller coaster. The Red Cross moved my aunt and her family into a hotel for a few days. The insurance company paid for my grandparents to have a room in the same hotel. I felt like I needed to be a rock for my family since they had lost so much. But I had lost too, and I needed to cry without worrying that I might cause my already fragile family to break down again. I called a few friends and cried. They were awesome. My friends and our church began donating things to help. None of the people who lived in the house had made it out with more than the clothes on their backs. They had no identification, no personal items like soap or toothbrushes, not even shoes. The Red Cross gave them all a small bag with a toothbrush, a tiny tube of toothpaste and a bar of soap—enough to last for a few days. Friends supplied the rest. People began donating used items and buying new things to help. I was overwhelmed at the outpouring of compassion. It was incredible.

Since Robert’s house is a tiny 1 bedroom and was being used as a headquarters, my house became the donation site. I picked up donations of things and sorted, washed, folded and stored them. I took clean laundry to my aunt’s family, and hauled away their dirty laundry. I sorted toys, clothes, personal items, towels, washcloths, household items—everything you can think of. It has been exhausting, but wonderful work.

The insurance company has rented them a house for 6 months. They moved in yesterday. I’m beginning to take things over there, so that they have what they need. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted, and glad it is almost over.

This season, I have much to be thankful for. 2 pets died in that fire. Melody found it and tried to put it out before she woke my uncle and aunt. Any or all of them could so easily have died. The fire investigators found that it was caused by a bad cord on my aunt’s alarm clock. Can you imagine?

I am so grateful no one was hurt; don’t misunderstand anything I’m saying. But I am so sad that so much was lost. I’m sad that I’ll never be able to walk through the halls again and be reminded of something that happened when I was a child. I’m sad that my children won’t have the opportunity to walk through and let me tell them what happened in that house or remember things on their own. At times, I thought I hated that house. At times, it felt like a prison too me. At other times, it was a shelter.

As we approach Christmas, I think of all the things I will never see again, like Grandma’s ugly Christmas tree. She bought that thing when my oldest cousin was a baby. Grandma thought it was so beautiful, but we all thought it was ugly. She decorated it with ropes of big, gaudy garland and gobs of icicles. We would all secretly make fun of it. I thought I’d be so happy when it was gone. Now it is. I’ll never see that ugly thing again, and strangely, I’m not happy at all. In fact, I cried about that stupid tree a few days ago. It’s weird to realize things you thought you hated, mean so much to you.

I don’t know how to end this except to tell you that I am better, we all are. I’m sure there will still be days when I am teary and sad. But as we approach Christmas, I am thankful and hopeful.

Aspirations and Reality

My son is a very bright kid. Learning just about anything has always been very easy for him. He has always made straight As. He attends a “school of choice” or magnet program in our city. He always scores in the top 3-5% nationally on standardized testing. Although he does well in everything and loves to read, he especially excels in math and science.

Because of all of these factors, T aspires for him to go to MIT. (I think he dreams about it at night.) He has mentioned it on several occasions…. almost daily. My son’s room however, is decked out in orange and black. He has posters of football and basketball players from the school on his walls and orange and black blankets and pillows on his bed. A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with G in the car on the way to watch a game. After that conversation with my son, I told my husband that he might as well give up. (I guess the orange and black room didn’t tip him off.)

We had to drive to a friend’s house to watch the football game. My son was beside himself because we were most likely going to miss kick off.

I said, “G settle down. If we miss it, we just miss it. It’s just kick off. We’ll be there right after for the entire rest of the game.” This, however, merely agitated him more.

“Mom, are you really a true fan, because I don’t think you are!” he said.

“Yes, G. I am a true fan, but I don’t think missing kick off is the end of the world.”

G said (yelling this time, although I don’t think he realized he was yelling-he was just extremely agitated.)“No Mom! I don’t think you really are a true fan! I mean, do you bleed orange and black, because I bleed orange and black!!!!”

Some Random Thoughts

Many, many things have been happening at The House of Marcie, but the thought of blogging about each individually makes me want to not even try to blog at all. So here they are:

1. I think I like my hair better straight, for now at least. I'm so glad my daughter introduced me to the flat iron she got for her birthday. It's incredible how much smaller my head looks when my hair is straight.

2. T signed a contract. Yea!!! He has a job when Hell ends in June.

3. It made me sad that G & C didn't Trick-or-Treat this year. I feel like they are slipping away too quickly. (Ugh! I sound like my mother!) On the up side, I was really proud that they both chose to volunteer at Neewollah at the church, on Halloween.

4. Several times lately something someone has done has reminded me of Granny. I've cried every time. I miss her terribly.

5. My dog Katie is not doing well. She is having a very difficult time walking at all. I'm afraid to take her to the vet. I don't want him to tell me what I already know.

6. T rearranged the rooms in the house AGAIN! I can't let the man have any free time! The girls are back to sharing a room. We'll see how long that lasts.

7. I want to go on a vacation without my family. Not for long, but definitely without them. I need to track down the shop that sells sanity--it seems someone has stolen mine.

8. I believe that if I cook and serve dinner, someone else should clean it up!! I don't think that's unreasonable! ( I dare you to disagree with me.)

Outside the Fishbowl

I’ve lived most of my life feeling as though I were on the outside looking in. It’s like I’m looking in a fishbowl. I can see all the sparkly baubles and the exotic looking hangouts. And I can see the ones that live inside there. They all look so happy. They laugh and talk and spend time together. They take turns hosting parties where all the others ones who live inside can come and partake.

For a long time I’ve tried my best to figure out how to get inside that bowl. I’ve walked around the circle, looking for the entrance to no avail. I’ve tried to climb the sides, but they were too slippery, and I fell down. I’ve tapped the glass, trying to get the attention of someone, anyone, who could tell me how to get inside. People would come and look at me, and wave and smile. They would say how very wonderful it was to be inside, and how wonderful all the parties were, and how beautiful everything was, and how extraordinary all the people were, and how very lucky they were to be there. I’d listen intently, my excitement growing. When they would finish speaking, and it was my turn to speak, I'd congratulate and assure them that, yes, they were so very lucky to live inside. And then I’d ask how I could get in there and share in the fabulous life, and they couldn’t understand what I was saying. They would look at me as if I had started speaking a different language. Other times, they suddenly couldn’t hear me at all. They would turn and walk away, smiling as they went to see all of the other great people who lived inside with them. I would yell, “Wait! Come back! How can I get in?” But they never heard me. I would pound my fists into the glass wall yelling for them to come back, but they never turned around.

Finally, I gave up. I sat down beside the wall and cried. Why? Why was I the only one who couldn’t get inside? Why did I have to spend my life alone, only watching all of the fun from the outside? And then, one day, I looked up and noticed someone standing beside me, looking down. She smiled and held out her hand to me. I took it and stood up, and for the first time, realized that there were many, many people outside the bowl. It was astonishing! I looked around and saw lots of exciting places. I saw people going to fun parties together! They were having fun and they didn’t even live inside the glass! I relaxed. I began to smile and walk around with my friend. I started to have fun.

So, after living on the outside my whole life, I finally decided the outside’s not such a bad place to be. I mean, who wants to live in a fishbowl anyway?

Conversation at a red light on the way to school

G: Quick Mom, stare at the people in the car next to us!

Me: What?

G: Stare at the people in the car next to us! It'll really freak them out!

Me: You are a freak.

The other day I was working around my house in my yucky sweats. They are my attire of last resort. My brother had asked if I could baby sit his dog until my parents could come and pick her up. This particular brother is my very solid, always anchored, trustworthy, responsible brother. He is always the one I call when I need someone to take care of our zoo while we are out of town. I refuse to board my dogs or cat, and what the heck do you do with a turtle? So of course I said yes.

Although Josh lives in town, his dog stays with my parents on their 10-acre plot with their 4 dogs and 6 horses. The land is pretty raw and undeveloped. My parents live in a small travel trailer, with plans to build a not much larger log cabin. The horses stay in large pens that my children helped clear debris, rocks, and low growing ground cover from and then built near my parents’ home. They have two small dogs, a Shih Tzu named Sammy and a Papillion named Rusty and two very large Catahoula hounds named Doc and Festus. Bailey belonged to Josh’s friend, who moved to another state and couldn’t take her. Then Josh moved into an apartment into which 85 lb. Bailey was not allowed. The logical place for her to go was the giant plot of undeveloped land that houses my parents.

Bailey has thrived since moving to “the country.” She runs and explores and follows where her nose leads and swims in ponds and does just generally doggy type things, which includes rolling in the wonderful perfumes of feces and dead animals. In fact, she gets so much exercise since moving out there, that she has dropped 20 lbs. A few days ago, Bailey hid under the trailer and wouldn’t come out when my dad first called her. That was worrisome to him. Between the two of them, my parents managed to coax her out to find that she had been bitten by some type of animal. They were very concerned that it could be a snake bite and called my brother, rather frantic. They were already leaving for work, and they work in town, so they met Josh, and he took Bailey to the vet. Fortunately, she had not been bitten by a snake but by some other animal. The vet gave Josh some antibiotics for Bailey and sent them on their way. Josh couldn’t take her back to his apartment (she has abandonment issues that cause furniture to be destroyed and just general household mayhem when left alone in an unfamiliar place) and had to go to work, so Bailey came to visit Aunt Marcie for the day.

When she walked in my front door, however, I was not so happy. I asked Josh, “what the heck is that smell” to which he replied, “she must have rolled in something.” I dealt with it as long as I could before I dragged her in to the bathroom and scrubbed her down. Washing my dogs is not that big of a deal. The largest is a Lhasa Apso, and she is the most trouble. It takes me about 15 minutes because she has a special shampoo for her skin problems that has to remain on for 10 minutes. The other two are a Dachshund, weighing in at 7 pounds, and a dachshund mix that weighs about 10. The two together take less effort and maybe the same amount of time as the Lhasa. Washing Bailey was a completely different thing. By the time I finished, I was filthy, soaked, and emanated the lovely aroma of wet dog and whatever it was she rolled in. But Bailey was clean.

Needless to say, I was not thrilled at the prospect of smelling that way for the rest of the day. Our dirty laundry pile was much fuller than the clean laundry one. After rummaging through my drawers several times and noticing that nothing new appeared from thin air, I grumpily accepted that I would have to wear the too thin, too short, too tight sweats. I threw my wad of smelly laundry into the washer and, since I was in grungy uglies, I decided to get some house cleaning done.

It was in the midst of this cleaning frenzy, when I was sweaty and filthy, that my doorbell rang. Great. Just what I need. All four dogs raced to the door, barking frantically. I waded through the dogs, opened the door a crack and squeezed myself through, pulling it shut behind me. I was greeted by a gangly kid in a dress shirt with beautiful, neat corn rows. He was holding a small padded black folder like the one I used when I used to wait tables, and he spoke in a low voice so quiet that I could barely hear him.

“Yes? Can I help you?” It turns out he was selling a super fabulous cleaner that is very concentrated and eco friendly. You add 1 capful to 20 oz of water and you can clean anything. He pulled the spray nozzle out and dripped some of it onto his tongue to assure me that was completely nontoxic. He laid out all the attributes of the products haltingly, stumbling along shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot. My mind immediately went to all the news specials I’ve seen where kids, barely out of high school, answer adds for jobs in “sales” and are taken far from home, stay in seedy motels, barely have anything to eat. Then I heard something about “no streaks on glass,” and before I knew it, he was spraying it all over my storm door. He wiped it with a rag and rubbed his fingers across the glass to show me that, indeed, it did not streak for, “uh…14… yeah 14 days.” And not only does it do glass and counters and laundry and other household surfaces, but it also does outdoor things too. “Let me show you,” he said as he turned and let those terribly long legs propel him down the sidewalk to my car.

I was already feeling anxious because I was sweaty and gross, and dressed in my last resort clothes. I hurried behind him, tugging self-consciously at my shirt to cover the jiggling fat of my thighs. He squatted down, sprayed the wheels of my car, and wiped away the black brake dust, revealing shiny silver wheels. I kept looking around to make sure no one I knew saw me standing out there looking so gross. He looked at me, told me it removed oil spots too, and before I could think, jumped up and went to the other side of the car. I walked around the front of the car to where he was on his hands and knees spraying the magic stuff on a nasty looking oil spot. He pulled a brush from his bag and scrubbed the oil spot away. He scrubbed my driveway. He SCRUBBED my DRIVEWAY. I looked down at him, at this rangy kid who couldn’t be very long out of high school, who was trying so hard but stumbling along, who kept having to look down at his sheet to remember what he was supposed to say, and all I could think was this is someone’s kid. This is someone’s son, someone’s grandson, someone’s brother, and he was scrubbing my driveway. I asked him where he was from. He told me, and he was far from home. I felt sad for him, for his family. He wasn’t like the sales guys I’ve worked with. He wasn’t slick and polished. In fact, he wasn’t very good at it, bumbling along. It was so weird standing in my driveway, feeling so much compassion and sadness for this kid who wasn’t even asking for it.

He left smiling, and I watched him walk down the rest of the street, knocking on doors. One didn’t answer; one slammed a door in his face. He wasn’t at any house long, and I watched until he turned the corner. I did the only thing I could: I said a prayer for him, that he would get what he needed.

Oh, and I bought a bottle of his magic cleaner.

Smart Potato

Conversation with my daughter 10 minutes ago:

C: Mom, this potato soup is very potato-y!

Short pause as I stare at her in disbelief.

Me: Well that's good because I sure hate it when it's too sqaush-y.

Waiting...

T is mad at me. Justifiably. I made a really dumb mistake. As soon as I realized what I had done, I called and told him, and he was mad. I told him it was my fault and apologized. And he was still mad. He wasn't speaking to me last night when I got home. (Actually, he just went to bed when I got home.) I really hate that. I never sleep well when one of us is mad at the other. What makes it even worse is that he is on call tonight, so he'll be at the hospital until tomorrow. So that means: I didn't see him all day yesterday, I didn't get to really see him last night, he left at 6:30 this morning, and he won't be home until 1 or 2 tomorrow afternoon, at which time he will probably go to bed completely exhausted until sometime tomorrow night. That is just too long.


It is one of the hardest things for me to wait on forgiveness. In my mind I understand that it takes some time to get over being angry, but I hate feeling so distanced from him, especially knowing that it's all my fault. My heart has a hard time with it. It makes me so mad at myself. But what can I do? Nothing. I admitted that it was my fault--I was careless. I apologized. Now all I can do is wait.

He called me today for a few minutes. That's a good sign.

But still the waiting....

It really sucks.

Is it me?

I just ran across a blog in which someone had taken a personality test. I clicked the link and followed it and took my own test. I have taken several personality tests in Psych classes, etc., and I think I may have taken this one before. Many are too rigid to give a remotely accurate description of something as complex as personality. This one, in my opinion, is a pretty fair analysis of personality-- even though I don't believe that any of them are remotely close to a complete representation of personality. That is pretty much impossible. For example, I am not nearly as impulsive as this test says my personality type is. That's just one example. But again, overall it is a good representation.

Since I still can't get lots of things to work on my blog because of my ancient computer, and I don't exactly understand how to insert them without the functions, I will just give you the web address: http://www.mypersonality.info/

Here is my personality type, according to this test. I am The Artist, an ISFP, which stands for Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving. You can read about it on the sight if you want to know more.

Some things I found very interesting were the careers associated with my personality type. Here are some of them:

Administrative Assistant (done that)
Artist
Carpenter
Chef (at home--I could see myself doing it as a career)
Child Care (done that)
Clerical Supervisor (that too)
Composer
Counselor (hmmm..)
Dental Staff
Designer
Early Childhood Development (Yep)
Editor
Forest Ranger
Homemaker (Helloooo)
Librarian
Mechanic
Medical Staff
Musician (sort of)
Naturalist
Nurse
Pediatrician (don't make me laugh! As if I could go there again!)
Church Worker (done that too)
Personal Service Worker (say what?)
Physical Therapist
Psychologyst (again, hmm....)
Social Worker
Teacher
Technical Specialist
Trainer
Veterinarian
Waitress (yep again)
Writer (um, duh)
X-Ray Tech

Ok, it's just creepy how many of those things I've done or contemplated doing.

In doing some reasearch about ISFPs, I discovered that they are very often mistaken for extroverts because they like to chat and/or discuss ideas. Can I just tell you, MY WHOLE LIFE! People make assumptions after getting to know one just a little bit, without actually getting to know one. I'm just sayin'......

So tell me about you. What's your type?

Mellow

I've been feeling very different lately. Last week or the week before, I started to worry. I had to stop and examine myself. I thought maybe I was beginning to get depressed. But after some serious investigation, I realized that I'm just feeling mellow. I was so surprised! That is the part of me I haven't seen since...since... Well since I was thrown into the pressure cooker about 6 1/2 years ago. I had forgotten what I was like before life in the cooker! I was so happy! It was like being introduced to a stranger, meeting a new friend. I am so excited! I am rediscovering me without the lid screwed on so tight! Cool!

Field Trip

Boy am I behind on my blogging!

Last week the J and the rest of the second grade went on a field trip to the Will Rogers museum and his birthplace. I have been on the field trip twice with G and C, and it is one of my favorites. As I walk through I realize what an incredible man Will Rogers was. The museum is full of really interesting things pictures, articles, etc. It also has an entire section downstairs just for kids. It has dress-up clothes in a "backstage" area which has a door leading to a stage and mini auditorium complete with seats for the audience. It has several other rooms including: a room with podium and seats for political speeches, an "outdoor" room with a giant wagon painted on the wall but real wagon wheels attached to it, a one room school house, and a few others. So, here are some fun pics:



This is a statue of Will on his horse outside the museum. The picture can't quite capture its beauty.




This is a part of a mural painted on a wall in the museum.





This is the room with the wagon and wheels. It is not a great picture because it is so dark. I hope you can see how neat it is.




This is my group with the man who gave us a presentation about Will when we got there. He was very knowledgable, but the kids loved him because he could rope. :)


After we finished at the museum, we went to his birthplace and childhood home. We had a picnic lunch and the toured the house, barns, and the grounds in general. Animals are kept on the grounds including donkeys, chickens, horses, cows and goats. I love this part!



J eating her lunch.




This is my niece T eating her lunch with us. She is in a different class, so she wasn't in my group. This is the only time we were together all day.




Here is his childhood home. There are trees lining a path leading up to the front, so I couldn't get a clean shot of the entire front of the house (I had to cut of the edges of it because it would not have been visible through the trees).



Ok this was my favorite part of the inside of the house! I love black iron stoves!




The donkeys!




J with a baby goat! There were so many baby pygmy goats and very, very pregnant mamas. All and all a great day!

Willing

I have typed the beginning of this blog a million times, but I just can't seem to get it right. I can't think of a beautiful or touching or even a funny way to start. No matter what, I can't figure out the right way to say what is in my heart, so I'm just going to stumble blindly along.

T and I have been facing a really big decision in our lives for several months. I haven't known which way to go. My heart has been in knots at the possible endings to this part of our story. At first, I was afraid to pray anything, because I was afraid of the answer I'd get, so I prayed timidly, brushing lightly and very quickly across the subject. Then I realized that no matter what, I would still have to hear the answer. And I realized even further, that, although we would decide it together, ultimately the decision would have to rest upon T. And that was terrifying. And it was also probably the catalyst for my desperate prayers that he would hear God. That he would pay attention. That he would make the right decision.

So, for a while I began to pray that prayer desperately, fearing the ultimate decision would tear me apart. Fearing that God was going to ask me to give up a place in life that seems to just be coming together. Feeling like the road we've walked has been so long and hard, and we are so close to the end of it, that I didn't think I could manage if He asked us to start over again. I pretended to be totally ok with the prospect of going in this new direction, but I wasn't. In fact, it felt like my heart might be ripped from my chest. T asked me how I felt and I told him I was a little afraid, but I would follow him anywhere. And so, all I knew to do was pray, to cry out. And slowly, so very slowly, I began to feel a little, tiny piece of some comforting, reassuring thing, some.....peace.

As I continued to pray for my husband, I continued to feel a little more and a little more, but I felt convicted because, while I was "being brave" my heart wasn't in it. I was willing to go wherever I needed to, but not with the right attitude. I saw that, in my heart, I was feeling that same old fear, that same old monster I thought I'd gotten rid of.

Without getting too off track, last year was the worst year in our marriage. It was not because of anything either of us had done but because of circumstances in our lives that were beyond our control. During that time, I realized that because of my childhood, and other things that have happened in my life, I had a distorted view of God. I thought of God as some mean, unfair giant looking down, who tortured people by forcing them to do things that they hated, as someone whose love was contingent upon my busyness, my perfection, my constant sacrifice. Through last year, I learned how wrong I was. My thinking and understanding was turned completely upside-down.

All that being said, when this stuff, this decision stuff, came about, I realized that I began to think that way again. I just knew God was going to ask me to sacrifice everything again. (Understand that I do realize what was sacrificed for me.) God began dealing with me about my attitude about sacrifice. Then, worship at church began to take a new direction. Our leader asked us to willingly sacrifice something and pray for our church, our community, our worship. Willingly. It was as if someone turned on a light in my dark room. That word willingly. I was really afraid. Of what, I really don't know, but fears don't always make sense, do they? They somehow grow into giant monsters, take on a life of their own.

But I did. And you know what? It was incredible. And now, I'm seeing that it's not so much about the sacrifice, but about the heart behind it. Yeah, I know, but what can I say--I'm a slow learner. Sometimes God does ask me to sacrifice, but it's not always something huge, and when all is said and done, it's worth it.

I don't know for sure where we'll end up walking. It looks like it will be somewhere better than we could have imagined. Ultimately though, I will go wherever--willingly.

What's that? Worship? You wouldn't believe the difference.

Excuses

A few weeks ago, my son and cousin picked quite a few pears for me. I wanted to make jelly, pear butter, and canned pears in light syrup. After working hard to pick many, many pears, they brought them to kitchen. I thanked them profusely and proceeded to let the pears sit. And sit. And sit. I let them sit until quite a few were rotten. My excuse? I was soooo busy.

During that same time, I neglected to blog anything. My birthday came and went, a friend visited, and several other interesting things have happened that I wanted to blog about, but I was just too busy.

What I find amusing about this story is that during this same 2 1/2 weeks, I have read 10 (400+ page) novels. 10. Hmmm...

Now, don't get me wrong, I am busy--especially now that school is in session. It seems that almost every second of my life is crammed with something to do or somewhere to go, but in reality, I do have time to do most things I need to do and many that I want to do. The problem is that sometimes I use busyness as an excuse for laziness. When I look a bit closer, I realize that I am just being lazy. I am doing what I want (reading, listing to/watching political talk, etc.), instead of what I really need (canning pears that my son and cousin spent much time and effort picking--at my request) to do.

Next time I say to myself that I'm just too busy, I need to examine my motivations a bit more closely. Am I really too busy, or am I just being lazy?

Protest

It should not be allowed that a face can have pimples AND wrinkles at the same time!!!

I'm just sayin'..............

Some Things Just Go Together

J and I have a "tuck in" routine we go through every night. First, we sing the goonight song together. Next, I kiss her. Then I "snug as a bug in a rug" her. And then I kiss her again. Sometimes she asks me to sing another song to her, and I do.

Tonight was one of those nights. She asked me to sing another song to her. And I agreed. Only, what I neglected to tell you before is that when she asks me to sing, she also expects me to tickle her tummy. So, after I agreed, and as she was pulling her nightshirt up so I could tickle her tummy, she said, "Make sure you tickle my tummy, Mommy, because singing and tickling tummies just go together. You know, like cookies and milk." I'm still smiling.

A Bunch o' Nuthin'

Good news! The charger has been found!!! Someone stuck it in the bottom of the junk drawer....it was the same someone who was last know to have it in his/her possession--although that someone swears that he/she did not put it in that drawer. Hmmm...... Not gonna think about it. Just glad it's back.

I have taken a pause in my canning. I've had a great time, as I always do, but I'm pretty tired. I don't think it was good for canning season to coincide with the beginning of school. I'm posting the picture of my exploits thus far. Most of it is apple or blackberry jelly. In addition, there are 5 jars of strawberry jam, 3 jars of applesauce, 2 jars of garlic basil tomato sauce, and 4 (frozen) apple pies. I froze the juice I had left for a few days to readjust to the school schedule and also because I ran out of jars. So, what you see is the fruit of my labor minus 12-15 jars that I have given away or my children have eaten.




I love how the jewel colors sparkle in the light! The four tall ones in the front are half eaten from my fridge. Thought I should include them since they were part of the process.




Last night G and C went to a Youth Alive rally. They came back full of song and praise. They were bursting with excitement, and neither of them could speak fast enough on the drive home from the church to tell me everything they wanted to. I love it. Teen years are so valuable in learning to walk Christ's steps. They have such a fervor and an absolute hunger for Christ. Perhaps its because they are so sensitive during this time in their lives. I don't know. I am overwhelmed with emotion as I see my children begin this journey into adulthood. I am grateful and so very honored that God has entrusted them to me and allowed me to be a part of what He is doing in and through them.

A View of a Few

So I decided that even if I can't show you the things still stuck on my camera, I can show you the pictures I already have on my computer. My mother-in-law emailed some pics of the cake I made for my nieces birthday party at the end of July, so I have a couple of those. Here we go!




This is the first cake I did. It was for my cousin's wedding. Yikes!! Talk about pressure! But she was happy, so I was too.







This cake was for my son's 13th birthday. He is a HUGE Oklahoma State University fan. We decided to use the O from their symbol, but instead of overlaying it with the wording, we overlayed it with Pistol Pete's face. He loved it!




And last but not least here are the cakes I made for my nieces birthday. She wanted lady bugs, so lady bugs (and flowers) is what she got. We had a great time.

What do you think?

Grrrrrrrr....

I've been feeling very irritated. I have all of these wonderful things I want to blog about and share great pics to go along with the jumbles of words. But I can't. I can't show you any of the pictures because someone ran the battery in the camera completely dead, and the someone who had the battery charger swears it was in the drawer the last time that person saw it, but amazingly, it's not there now. In fact, no one has been able to find it for more than a week. So all of my pretty pictures that I wanted to share are stuck on a dead camera with no hope of being transferred to the computer. So I have not wanted to tell you anything, because I can't SHOW you as well.

I'm feeling better now though. Eventually, the charger will be found. Probably by me (since I'm the only one in the house who seems to be able to find anything even when I haven't lost it in the first place--but I'm definitely not bitter about it). In fact, the fact that I am blogging at all--even to tell you about my irritation, shows that I am improving. Today I am going to commit an allotment of time to looking for the darn thing. If I don't find it today, I've promised myself I won't be upset. Well okay I may be upset, but I'll still blog. About something happy. Okay may something happier. That's all I can give you.

Poke Poke Poke

Earlier, I was standing in the kitchen cooking dinner. I'm rather exhausted today. In about 3 days time, I have picked bags and bags of apples and pears (before that I picked blackberries--talk about thorns! Ugh! My arms were torn to shreds!), peeled, cored and sliced them, covered them in water, strained them through jelly bags, measured the juice, mixed it with pectin and sugar, boiled it, filled jars, cooked it in my canner, until "ta-da!" I have beautiful jars and jars of jelly. I have made 25 jars so far, and I'm just getting warmed up. (More about that later.) On top of that, I have had a house full of kids since my nieces are here for the summer and have spent almost every day with me while their mother worked. Today was especially tiring because, on top of making jelly, I had to go to Whole Foods to pick up a few things, stop at Sam's for sugar, take G to a dental appointment, and on and on.... But I digress.

As I was stirring the Alfredo sauce, G my son walked by and patted my back and then poked me in the ribs. He walked away then but kept walking by poking me in the ribs. I was patient with his 13-year-old game of "pick at/play with Mom," until my ribs started to feel sore. I finally told him to stop. After a few playful "please stops" I finally said, "I don't like this game. It hurts. Stop." But he didn't. Over and over he poked me until I was angry. I finally growled, "Stop!!" Giggling, he went into the living room. Not to long after he left, Tobey walked in and did THE SAME THING! I said, "Why are you poking me? Your son just did the same thing! I hate it when you do that! Why do you guys think its okay to do that?" Tobey grinned (the same grin I might add), and said, "Maybe its because of what's on your back." I reached up to the middle of my back and pulled off a Post-it Note that read:


Poke my sides


Boys!

Fun Summer Pics

Until recently I have been unable to post pics on my blog for a couple of reasons, but I can now! I decided to post some fun summer pics first. Here goes......




My beautiful girls on the beach!





Getting ready to fish for sharks!





Our friend Mr. Crabby





Getting ready to build a castle





The fam in the old Mission Control at NASA.






In front of the Saturn Rocket.

Glad to finally be able to share my pics. Hope you enjoy!

Random Ramblings

In June G went to youth camp for a week. The campgrounds our denomination uses for Youth Camp are the same grounds used for Kid's Kamp, so he has visited these particular grounds many times and is very familiar with them. In fact, I am very familiar with them, having visited them several times during my teen years. The grounds are definitely not modern. The dorms are bare concrete floors, covered only by squeaky metal bunk beds with thin lumpy mattresses (probably dating to before my time at the camp), which are the bane of any light sleeper. The tabernacle is really just a kind of open-air pavilion. It has a slab, a stage, pews, and a roof with posts holding it up. And it is seriously hot. And sticky. (Oklahoma is not known for its mild summer weather.) The worst part though, if you ask the campers, is the showers. First, to get a warm shower, you have to get up before dawn, and even then you may not be guaranteed a hot shower since the hot water only lasts through about the first six or seven campers in each dorm. Also, the further the cabins get from the water source, the more the water merely trickles from the showerhead. Consequently, the boys’ cabins are the furthest. Makes sense, right? Unless of course you are a neat freak I-don't-like-to-be-dirty-more-than-10-seconds kind of boy. (Yes they do exist--I have TWO in my house.)

A few years ago, the church (by this I mean the denomination) bought a parcel of land on which to build new campgrounds. The new campgrounds are supposed to have all the modern amenities. Lots of space, air conditioning, and nice showers. Everyone is so excited about the future digs, including my family. Or so I thought until a few days ago.

G: "Mom, I don't know if I'm really going to like it when they build the new camp."

Me: "What? Why do you say that?"

G: "Well, it's just that camp won't be camp if the water is hot and you have water pressure."

Me: ?!!???

Isn't that just about right?

Stupid, Stupid Technology

I am SOOOOOOOO frustrated with my computer/internet/ own technological inadequacies! I keep having trouble getting my computer to sign on. I could not get online all week last week! Arg! I was lost. (Scary to realize how very much I depend on tech stuff....)

Luckily, I had to decorate a few cakes, make a few extra dinners for friends, and run several back-to-school related errands to keep myself busy and my mind off of my frustration. Hopefully my luck will hold out and I'll be able to sign on again tomorrow and upload the cool pics of the cakes. Until then...............

A Bit of Bullying

Last night and today I have been struggling with whether to post this or not. I decided to post it and at least get a little feedback. Maybe.

I'll preface this by saying that I know I have a tendency to be very introspective (a gift from the Puritans--despite their problems) and over-analytical. I overanalyze some things. Ok most things. Perhaps that is just what I'm doing now, or perhaps I didn't react properly to the situation. Here is what happened:

My 13 yo niece J is visiting for the summer. [She is one the most shy children I've ever known. She generally looks at the floor while she is speaking, and I often have to ask her to repeat herself because I can't hear what she says.] I put her on our neighborhood pool pass, so she could swim with my 12 and 13 yo children. We literally live across the street from the park/pool (I can stand on my front porch and see the kids playing), so the kids go to the pool almost every day.

Late last week I was at the park with my cousin and her daughter. J got out of the pool and walked toward my house by herself. I called her to me and asked her what was wrong, but I got the typical "nothing" that a 13 yo gives. I thought maybe she was just tired and shrugged it off. But it happened again. And again. Finally, Tuesday, I asked my 12 yo daughter C what was wrong with J. She told me that some girls at the pool began picking on her and threatened to beat her up. C said that it had escalated to the point that J did not want to swim at all, and C was now being threatened. I asked C if they had brought it to the attention of the lifeguards, and C told me that the lifeguards knew it was happening. Several of the lifeguards are friends with the girls and they laugh when the girls threaten my children. I was very, Very angry. Later that day, all the kids went to the park to play. After a short time, they all came back in the house because the girls and a few of their friends had gotten out of the pool, gone to the park, and threatened them. That was it for me. I was hopping mad. You just don't mess with Mama Bear's cubs!

Anyone who knows me knows that there are two things I can't stand--pedophiles and bullies. People who hurt those who cannot protect themselves do not give me warm fuzzies. I thought and thought about what to do. What I really wanted to do was go out there and give those girls a good spanking, but I restrained myself, as it was probably not the wisest thing to do.

Wednesday, I decided to go to the pool with the kids. The younger ones wanted to go anyway, and I knew this situation had to be dealt with. Obviously the girls steered clear of my children while I was there. When it was time to go, I sent the kids on while I stopped in the clubhouse and asked to speak to the manager. The manager (as is usually the case) was not there, so I decided to speak to lifeguard. I waited until other people had dispersed and told her:

"I don't want to embarrass anyone, but this situation needs to be dealt with. My niece is visiting for the summer, and I put her on our pool pass. I paid for my pass just as everyone else has, and now my children, especially my niece, feel like they can't even come to the pool. I did not pay for my children to be harassed and threatened when they come to swim. If the behavior continues, I will have no choice but to press charges against anyone involved."

The lifeguard said, "I understand" about 500 times. When I was finished, she said that she would make the other lifeguards aware of it, and it would not happen again. It hasn't. The kids have been swimming every day since, and they have had not 1 ounce of trouble.

But I feel a bit bad. I didn't want to threaten anyone. That actually was not my intent. I really wanted them to know that I felt pressing charges or getting a restraining order was the only option they would be leaving me, if the threats and harassment did not stop. The behavior has stopped, but punching someone in the face might stop behavior too--that doesn't make it the right thing to do. Did I do the right thing? Or should I have done something else?

The Hunt

I'm a girl who likes a REALLY GOOD bargain. And (I think maybe even more) I REALLY enjoy the hunt for the bargain. I enjoy searching through the paper, online, etc. I search the clearance isles at the stores, I wander through the clearance warehouses, I shop at thrift stores on half price days, and I regularly check the "free" postings on sites like Craig's List. I don't want to find just a good deal--I want to find the BEST deal. I do it for groceries, clothes, furniture. And I have to admit; one of my favorite "hunts" is for school supplies.

They sell prepackaged supplies at my daughter's elementary school for a "bargain." I'm just not sure whose idea of a bargain it is--certainly not mine! Instead of settling for the prepacked stuff or spending an insane amount of money, I hunt. And I love it.

I will say I have a few rules that I go by in my bargain hunt. The first and most important one is: I never go out of my way to get the deal. It just doesn't make sense to burn really expensive fuel to save a few bucks. In the end, I would not be saving anything. (I'm sure this is a rule most frugal hunters abide by, but I thought I'd just make sure everyone knows I that I have enough common sense to realize wasting gasoline is a bad idea.) Instead, I combine errands. I usually think about the places I have to drive throughout the week, and I make a plan to stop at the sale places on the way. Another thing I do is price match at Wal-Mart. They will honor a competitor's add if you present the add. (I did that today.)

The difference in school supply shopping and other kinds of deal shopping is you have only a very short time to find all the deals and get all of the things you need before school starts. The pressure mounts.

I must tell you, the more time ticks away, the more I have to purchase, the more excited I get. I love the challenge! (I think it's also that I love to sort of "stick it" to the establishment--and getting a good deal is not the only example of this.) My excitement has been building all week! I printed my children's lists from their school websites, and, after grumbling about how ridiculous some of the required supplies were (a game I play with myself every year), I began my hunt. Prowling through the adds while comparing them to the lists, I made my plan. Then, I executed the plan. Each child now has half or more of the things on his/her supply list. Here are the results so far:

(FYI: For school supplies, I check the weekly adds on Sunday and then the circulars on Tuesday.)


3 standard/metric rulers $.01/each
20 pocket folders w/brads $.01/each
4 composition books $.25/each
2 plastic folders w/brads $.20/each
5 pkgs college ruled paper $.15/each
5 pkgs wide ruled paper $.15/each
2 boxes 24 crayons $.20/each
2 bottles glue $.20/each
6 2-packs glue sticks $.20/each
11 college ruled spirals $.10/each
8 wide ruled spirals $.10/each
1 plastic school box $.99/ each (OK not my best)

Grand total (w/tax of course): $8.83

Not too bad Jolene!

Busy, Busy Summer

Well it's Monday and right back into the swing of things. I went to the gym, Office Depot, and Food Pyramid. Then it was back home start some laundry, make the kids lunch, and into the shower. We have dance @ 3:00 across town, and by the time we're home again, it will be dinnertime. Tomorrow's forecast--busier. With dance 3 days a week (for 2 girls the total minimum time is 2 hrs. on Mondays, maximum time is 5 hrs. on Tuesday, with Thursday a close 2nd @ 4 1/2 hrs.), my last few days of work (yea!), school supply shopping (School starts August 11! Rrrrrrrr! Don't get me started!), it seems that there is barely time to breathe. What ever happened to the "lazy days of summer?"

Oh well! Really I don't have anything to complain about. We are all healthy and happy. My tomato plants are beautiful and ripening. The sun rises and sets. God is still up there.

Hope your summer is as wonderful!


Deal of the week: 20 pocket folders with brads, 3 rulers= $0.25

Ode to laundry

O laundry mound,
O laundry mound,
I see that you are growing.
O laundry mound,
O laundry mound,
How sad that you are growing.
Twas just an hour,
My loads complete,
And now I see,
Piles at my feet!
O laundry mound,
O laundry mound'
When e'er will you stop growing?

Golden is an understatement

Ah..... Saturday. I'm so glad you're here.

I left my sleeping family around 8:00 this morning, and so far I've been to a convenience store, 2 grocery stores, home again to put the groceries away and pick up a pile of well-read paperbacks, another grocery store, and my favorite used bookshop. And now I'm sitting at my computer in virtual silence. The quiet hum of the air conditioner and my click-clicking on the keyboard are the only sounds to be heard. Well, except for the occasional squeak from Cosette (my dachshund) begging me to throw her toy. I love it.

Upon returning home from vacation, I've been inundated with calls and visits from loving, well-intentioned family and friends, who missed me, and whom I also missed. But sometimes, I just need the quiet. Yesterday I began to feel a bit resentful that these people I love would just not leave me alone. I had a chat with myself and set myself straight, and I quickly changed my attitude. But I am appreciative of the silence. The alone. Sometimes I just need that.

But now my children are awake and asking many questions, and someone is on the phone for me. Ah well..... it was nice while it lasted. I will desperately seek out another opportunity for silence, and in the meantime, appreciate that I am loved.

By popular demand.............

Cinnamon Toast Cake

Mix:
2 C flour
1 C sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 C milk

Melt 1 stick of butter. Add 2 T of the melted butter & 1 tsp vanilla. Beat well. Grease or spray Pam into a jelly roll or 9x13 pan. Pour batter in. (Batter is very thick and will probably need some help leveling. I slide my pan quickly back and forth on the counter. Then I smack the bottom of the pan on the counter. Repeat both until it is spread out and fairly level.) Bake @ 350 for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown around edges and some on top.

While cake is baking, combine 1/2 C sugar & 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon. After cake is finished baking, while it is still warm, pour melted butter over the top of the cake. Spinkle cinnamon/sugar mixture over the top. Return to oven and bake and 5-7 minutes.

Note: I find that if I let the cake cook until it is browning on the edges and top, it is too done (for my taste) after I bake it the second time. It seems to work better if I pull it out of the oven just as the edges are starting to brown.

I'm Back

So here I go again. I'm back on the blog wagon. Willingly. Although, I was threatened with my very life if I didn't blog again. 'Sall I'm sayin'.

Here goes.

So we're back from vacation. It was great! We traveled with my aunt and uncle to south Texas to visit my cousin (their son) Randal, his wife Brandi, and their children, Chorel and Aspen. They were wonderful, gracious hosts, and I am truly grateful that they opened their home and allowed us to disrupt their lives for a time. Randal works for NASA, and he arranged a tour for just our family. It was incredible! (Tobey's favorite part) We saw the old Mission Control room (It looks exactly like the one in Apollo 13), the current Mission Control room (we didn't actually get to go inside that part--had to look through the giant glass window. We saw the astronauts floating inside the International Space Station on a giant screen in Mission Control. Super Cool!!!), a room they use for practice runs, a life sized Saturn rocket (OMG it is enormous!), and a full scale ISS that they use for practice (again super huge). We were thoroughly impressed.

Since they live so close to the ocean, of course we had to visit the beach. We had a fabulous time! We splashed, wave dived, built sand castles and smashed them down again, picked up shells and hermit crabs, fished, and looked for sharks teeth until sun crisped, covered in sand, and pickled from the salt, we went back to Randal’s house.

Their house is set on about 3 acres, and Randal has been experimenting to turn it into Green Acres. He has chickens and turkey. They are still young and very cute. The kids chased them around some to catch them then spent most of their time holding the turkeys like they were infants. The turkeys seemed content enough to be held, so what do you do? He had lambs, but they ran away just before we arrived. (Hmm.....ESP?) We shot all kinds of pretty and loud, and pretty darn loud fireworks on Independence Day, and just had a fun time in general. Several other members of our extended family joined us on the 4th and stayed until Saturday. It was loud, busy, packed with people...just like old times! I felt a bit like I was a child again.

We left on Sunday and traveled to the Dallas/Fort Worth area to visit my sister-from-another-mutha, Mandi and her sweet famille. More fun, fun, fun (discounting all threats made to my very person)! Once all the formalities were out of the way, it was time for some serious game playing, because after all the smack talkin'-- it was on!!! We played games (Nertz mostly) until the toothpicks would no longer hold our eyes open. Monday, it was pretty much the same thing, except we squeezed face stuffing into the schedule.

All kidding aside, going to see my dear friend is always like going home. We pick up like we were together a couple of days ago. Upon entering their house, I think it took all of 3 seconds before Tobey's mood piqued and he started laughing and cracking jokes. The kids were so happy to see each other we barely heard a peep out of them the entire time we were there. Yes Virginia, there are miracles.

Wednesday we drove home, and I pretty much fell into an exhausted heap. Vacation is great, but there's nothing like coming home.