More Than just a Mom

Somewhere Between Here and There

2009-07-14T08:59:00.000-07:00

A former classmate of mine has been posting scanned pages from our yearbooks on Facebook. When it first started happening I cringed knowing that sooner or later my face would appear. But it didn't. Not for a long time. Until a day or so ago.

There I am, front row, frizzy BIG hair, sitting next to my best friend with her BIG glasses. It was shocking. It really was.

And I could only think of one question: "Where was my mother?"

I mean seriously! How could that woman let me leave the house looking like a Q-Tip? All this time I thought I was pretty cute in high school. Ahh how the mind deceives!

Granted, it was the 80's. Big hair, big belts, short skirts, lip gloss, air guitar, new wave, punks, stoners, preppies and dudes with eyeliner (and you thought Adam Lambert was the first...snicker).

The 1980's was a strange time. I thought different. I was a LIBERAL. I thought the grown-ups and Reagan were going to blow us all to kingdom come. I even wrote a play about that topic that won a national award.

I recently found that little bit of dribble and re-read it. Scary. Not that the topic is scary, but that it WON an award! Who judged this piece of tripe? Uggh.

Anyway, the 1980's brought us movies and music that we will not soon forget. Oh, that we could!

Top five movies from 1985 (the year I graduated):

Back to the Future
Rambo: First Blood Part II
Rocky IV
The Color Purple
Out of Africa

But wait! Where is The Breakfast Club, Fast Times at Ridgemont High (my mother let me watch this??), or Sixteen Candles?

Top albums for the 1980's:

London Calling, The Clash
Purple Rain, Prince
The Joshua Tree, U2
Remain In Light, Talking Heads
Graceland, Paul Simon
Born in the U.S.A., Bruce Springsteen
Thriller, Michael Jackson
Murmur, R.E.M.
Shoot Out The Lights, Richard and Linda Thompson
Tracy Chapman, Tracy Chapman

Now, granted, I copied this list from a pop culture website, so maybe these aren't THE top ones, but I'm willing to bet they are pretty close. Unless you were a headbanger. Than these did nothing for you.

Top ten heavy metal albums from 1980's:

Ride the Lightning/Master of Puppets (1984/1986)- Metallica
Life After Death - Iron Maiden
Live Evil - Black Sabbath
Among the Living - Anthrax
Holy Diver - Dio
Balls to the Wall - Accept
Blizzard of Ozz - Ozzy Osbourne
Power and the Glory - Saxon
Theater of Pain/Shout at the Devil - Motley Crue
Appetite for Destruction - Guns n’ Roses

Strange times my friend. Strange times. The year I graduated my best friend got pregnant. The staff tried to force her to quit school. She wouldn't. The kids were cruel to her and called her dirty names. I stuck by her. No one applauded when she walked up on the stage, six months pregnant, and took her diploma. Which is so different from today when young girls are encouraged to stay in school and no one blinks when they waddle up on stage.

Like every generation before us, we struggled to find who we were and to somehow avoid turning into our parents. We thought we were better, smarter, stronger. In reality, we turned out to be humans simply trying to survive on this little rock we call Earth.

Driving, Doodle, and Dancing

2009-07-13T10:43:00.001-07:00

I'm house sitting for the Singer. She's gone for...three weeks. Three. Weeks. The dogs, Chess, Winnie, and Doodle needed company and someone to feed them. Those duties fell to me.

I'll post a picture of the Doodle later. She's a teacup poodle and fierce! Why she even scared Dingo the Cat who isn't afraid of anyone. Gasp!

So, I'm splitting time between houses which means I have two houses to keep tidy, double the animals to care for, and extra driving to do.

Saturday was the Narnia Ball. We found Girls dress at Goodwill, brand new with price tag still attached: $188.00. We picked it up for a mere $14.95. What a find!

Per tradition, our friends gathered here for a meal and the primping that takes place before such an event. Everything was going as planned...till the power went out. Seriously.

Thankfully, the meal was already prepared and we simply moved outside and enjoyed the mild weather where we feasted on shredded pork and white bean burritos. I made the MOST amazing chunky avocado salsa - recipe to follow.

I'm off to do more driving and leave you with pictures from the weekend.

Waiting for the Narnia Ball to begin

Friends! Dress for the evening ranged from ball gowns, WWII costumes, classic school girl attire, to knights, the white witch, and an imp or two.

Girl and her Daddy

Beloved and I saw this one and our mouths dropped open. Where did SHE come from? She's our pretty, pretty girl!

It Was a Smelly Smell

2009-07-10T11:42:00.001-07:00

An old man at the laundry mat smelled strongly of liquor and cigarettes. I suppose that isn't terribly unusual, except it was 8:30 in the morning! Hello!!

We've removed Washerella's body and recycled it. The hoses from the wall have been leaning into the utility sink, still in mourning. They seem so...droopy. Last night, Girl needed to hand wash several items and asked what she should do with the hoses. I told her to let them hang to the floor, it won't hurt anything.

Wrong! Last night the entire room reeked of...something. The cat box? Nothing that toxic has ever emitted a scent like that from the litter box! The room now smells of bleach.

As you walk past the front flowerbed a wisp of fragrance will surround you. It is delightful and I stood in one spot for several moments last night, inhaling deeply and treasuring this small gift.

The aroma of growing tomatoes is beginning to waft through the air while the butterfly bush lures those dainty winged creatures with a subtle hint of sweetness.

Interesting how some scents wrap us in their warmth and beauty while others repulse us.

What did YOU smell today?

The Truth Is: Take Two

2009-07-08T09:29:00.000-07:00

The truth is I cannot, for the life of me, come up with a blog topic for today.

I considered writing about the toothpaste that dribbled down my chin and onto my perfect BLACK shirt leaving a ghostly white spot that will not scrub out with water.

I drove Girl to camp where she has been working since Monday. She has 8 days left. Heaven help us.

The truth is, Girl is NOT a morning person and has been getting up at 6:00 am ON HER OWN! I had no idea she had it in her.

I was going to do more yard work today, but decided to be lazy instead.

I worked-out yesterday for the first time since the ouchie back and today I did Pilate's. The back is minorly ouchie.

The truth is, and I know at least one of you will snicker when you read this, I watched Michael Jackson's daughter's speech. Poor, poor lamb.

I did NOT watch any of the rest of MJ's memorial service and I'm still baffled by the media frenzy.

I have a new cake recipe thanks to PW. Italian Cream Cake coming to a blog near you...soon.

I still haven't found a dress for Girl and the ball is Saturday. Where is a fairy godmother when you need her?

The truth is I'm sitting here drinking a diet Pepsi, freezing, and wondering why I didn't put sock on this morning. It's a whopping 56 degrees outside. It's July. JULY!

The truth is I could probably sit here and ramble on about nothing for a very long time, but I think I've killed enough of your brain cells for the time being.

For more enjoyable reading, please visit my friend Travis Erwin and learn why lettuce is the devil.

Or in case you are having a pity party and would like to read about how much worse life could be visit friend Teri and read about the summer of FAIL.

Startin' Out Right

2009-07-06T06:41:00.000-07:00

It's Monday morning. Why is it so much harder to get up on a Monday morning after a holiday? Yawn. I'm off to work. Girl is off to camp. Beloved is...sleeping...

I leave you with these. Happy "yawn" Monday.

Beautiful!

My MIL's favorite. Every summer she would hang baskets around the deck with these beauties

I love the feathery look of these

Chili, I dares you to grow bigger, sweet, spicier. I dares ya!

Das Butterfly bush. It really does attract butterflies. Beautiful, beautiful bush

Happy 4th

2009-07-04T08:47:00.000-07:00

The time is now near at hand which must probably
determine, whether Americans are to be, freemen, or
slaves; whether they are to have any property they can
call their own; whether their houses, and farms, are to
be pillaged and destroyed, and they consigned to a State
of wretchedness from which no human efforts will probably
deliver them. The fate of unborn millions will now depend,
under God, on the courage and conduct of this army -- Our
cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us no choice but a brave
resistance, or the most abject submission; this is all we
can expect -- We have therefore to resolve to conquer or die...

-George Washington on July 2, 1776, from his headquarters in New York. This is, of course, only part of the original order written.

Oh...and to the person who commented on the previous post in a negative tone...I don't publish anonymous comments. Be a man and sign your name. Of course you have the freedom to not sign your name, just don't expect me to publish it. Snicker.

Oh...and it's my blog; conservative, snarky, sometimes a wee bit whiny, but it's mine and I can ramble on about anything I want to. That's part of the beauty we celebrate today. The freedom of speech. The freedom to ramble on about injustices, real or imagined. The freedom to call for the dismantlement of North Korea.

It's all about freedom baby. Enjoy it. Celebrate it. Protect it.

Coward

2009-07-03T07:48:00.000-07:00

A few days ago something happened. I cannot share what it was exactly, but it made me feel bad. Bad about myself and who I am. It took a little while for me to get over it and then I got mad.

Really mad.

I was angry on so many levels. I wanted to drag others into the fray just so I could gripe and grumble about it. I dreamt of it and then woke up angry ready to strike out at the one who caused me (and others) pain, humiliation and anger.

I shared my tale of woe with two close friends, both of whom were shocked (one even cursed and she seldom does that!). I felt better. I was justified in my anger.

Then last night, as I lay in bed thinking over the event I came to a startling realization: I didn't have to allow this person so much space in my head.

Eureka!

I allowed a sniveling, faceless whiner to rent space in my brain for three days.

What was I thinking. Okay, we know what I was thinking...

In all honesty, I let my emotions get the better of me. It's a pretty standard event for me. I'm quick to build mountains out of mole hills, it's a gift. It truly is.

Is too!

Not that I'm letting this back-stabbing cupcake off the hook, but to allow someone free reign in your head is a waste of time, effort, and sleep. Frankly, this individual isn't worth the cyberspace I'm writing this blog in.

Only small, weak people attack from behind. Like Robert Ford who shot Jesse James in the back, this person who attempted to knife me is a coward.

That's right, I call YOU coward! You yellow-bellied snake in the grass!

It took three days, but I'm done listening to your voice slither around my mind. You can't take anything from me and you can only destroy me if I allow you to.

Guess what? It ain't gonna happen.

Sometimes I Get a Little Down

2009-07-01T14:39:00.000-07:00

Sometimes

Sometimes I get a little down.

It’s the little and big things that get to me. For the most part I’m a pretty positive girl.

Yet, sometimes…

Sometimes it’s the negative comment that is thrust my way. Even if it wasn’t meant for me or about me, I’ll carry it around, bundled like a mewing newborn.

”If only you were thinner, taller, younger, blonder…”

“It’s too bad you didn’t finish college, write that book, get that job, buy that house…”

“Why don’t you make more money, run more miles, smile more, smile less, take charge of your life…”

Other times it’s the circumstances of my life that blow me over like a reed in the wind.

Worrying about Beloved

Missing Boy

Dealing with FIL

Thinking about Mom

Listening to silence and finally understanding that soon it will be like this all the time

Gasping as the caller ID announces a call from the retirement home

But then…

I see the new calf run across the field in wild abandon.

I made a seven-month-old baby smile.

My dog is glad to see me after work.

The garden is growing.

My Girl comes home.

And my Beloved puts his arms around me, tells me I’m pretty, and I rest in his embrace.

Life is good.

Then I'm not so down anymore.

The Patio of My Dreams

2009-06-30T12:20:00.000-07:00

Since the yard is ~~killing me~~ coming together nicely we decided that we will have a family BBQ in August. That gives me one month to wrap things up in the jungle. I really, really thought I could pull this off. The front looks pretty good and I knew the back still needed work…But…

I didn’t realize to what extent. Oi! I am cleaning off the back patio which has housed, and no I’m not kidding, various tools, two bikes, a ladder, an old stove (seriously) and old sink (yep, same one that came out of our bathroom after the remodel LAST YEAR)…

I cannot believe I am telling you this.

Also residing on the patio is a broken chair, a play kitchen, two tiny yellow chairs (for the wee girls) and a tiny purple pool (also for the wee girls). There is a pile of lumber, a generator, a fencepost, a chainsaw (in it’s case), a red wagon, and one small, blue water storage tank. Oh, and I almost forgot, the white, plastic fencing stuff that FIL is “using” as railing for the upper deck.

Shouldn’t it BE on the upper deck? I mean, since it’s HIS project, shouldn’t he store HIS crap on HIS deck? I’m just sayin’.

So, I dug in and spent only thirty minutes hauling stuff to the greenhouse, the burn pile, and the shed. I still need to make a trip to the barn and a trip to the dump, but it’s looking so great! I hauled FIL plastic railing stuff up to his deck as well as his table that my Beloved “borrowed” and never put back.

Men!

The trick, though, is going to be getting FIL to move his lumber and his generator. Maybe I won’t ask. Maybe I’ll just move it to the barn and not tell him. Maybe he won’t notice. Hmmm….

I am ultra excited to get this cleaned up for a couple of reasons. First, it looked horrible and I hate that! Second, we are getting a new washer on Thursday (and such a deal we got!). Finally, I’m going to buy some patio furniture from the writer! She was going to sell it at her garage sale, but I told her I want it!

Finally, after fourteen years the patio is going to look the way I want it to! No more fighting with FIL and MIL (God rest her soul) isn’t here to tell me she needs to store something there so it will be out of the weather. Ha! It only took a little over a decade, but it is finally happening. I’m going to have a place to drink tea in the cool of the morning. I will be surrounded by my beautiful plants and it will be peaceful and a great place for that BBQ in August.

WHY MEN ARE JUST HAPPIER PEOPLE

2009-06-29T07:48:00.000-07:00

Sent to me by a good friend. I thought it was cute (and true!) and thought I'd share. I'm off to work!

Why men are happier:

Your last name stays put.

The garage is all yours.

Wedding plans take care of themselves.

Chocolate is just another snack.

You can be president.

You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park.

You can wear NO T-shirt to a water park.

Car mechanics tell you the truth.

The world is your urinal.

You never have to drive to another gas station because this one's just too

icky.

You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.

Wrinkles add character.

Wedding dress - $5000; tux rental - $100.

People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them.

The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.

New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.

One mood, ALL the time.

Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.

You know stuff about tanks.

A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.

You can open all your own jars.

You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.

If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.

Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack.

Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.

You almost never have strap problems in public.

You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.

Everything on your face stays its original color.

The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.

You only have to shave your face and neck.

You can play with toys all your life.

Your belly usually hides your big hips.

One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color, all seasons.

You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look.

You can "do" your nails with a pocketknife.

You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.

You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives, on December 24 in 45 minutes!

The Sting of Death

2009-06-26T11:54:00.001-07:00

Micheal Jackson

An adorable, gifted child, a handsome, talented young man, insecure man, bizarre individual, sad, sad, sad.

I watched the movie, The Wiz (I loved the Wiz!) almost as many times as I watched Gone with the Wind. I owned the album, Thriller. Who didn't? It was the eighties baby and we danced.

Yet, he was a strange man, surrounded by accusation of inappropriateness in both 1993 and 2003. The first case was dropped because the victim refused to testify, the second was settled out of court to the tune of millions.

I wasn't there and neither were you. I have no idea whether or not MJ was a sick little man, or simply a man who adored children. I have no idea and frankly, it really doesn't matter today, does it?

He's dead.

I am shocked at the reaction to his death, just as I was shocked at the reaction when John Lennon was murdered. Sure, I think it's sad that he died, but I didn't KNOW him. I won't MISS him. He wasn't all that to me. I do not feel death's sting with the passing of Micheal Jackson.

Go ahead, pick up your stones and hurtle them my way. The passing of MJ will not leave a hole in my heart. My eyes will not fill with tears at the remembrance of him, as they do when I recall memories of my most wonderful MIL. I won't lay flowers at his graveside or honestly give him a second thought after the media frothing stops.

I feel sorry for MJ because I think he was robbed of his childhood. I think fame and money ruined him. My mommy's heart wonders if he was lonely, because to me, he appeared lonely. The kind of lonely that has sunk so low into a man's soul that it's raw and bleeding.

As a Christian, I wonder about the condition of his soul. Hey, it's my blog and I can say that if I want to. I can ponder where he may now find himself and that my friends, is truly worth grieving. It's sad. It really, truly is.

Because I am a heartless wench, I may have offended a few people. I know you are SHOCKED and DISAPPOINTED in me. I know you may have many colorful words to share with me.

All I can say is, "Whoa! Dude, I meant no disrespect..."

I don't build alters to people. I've built one for my God and He's kinda jealous about sharing His children. Funny that.

And yet, as I sit here and write this, I know someone who is grieving far more than the millions upon millions world wide.

His name is Jesus Christ.

This will conclude today's sermon.

Amen.

Curses

2009-06-25T14:25:00.001-07:00

I took sewing in high school and wasn't very good at it. I made an apron and then my main project was a poodle skirt. I don't remember why I picked a poodle skirt. What I do remember is my mother putting the finishing touches on it the night before it was due. Actually, she was attaching the waistband and inserting the zipper then she helped me hem it. I'm sure she appreciated that heck out of that.

When Boy and Girl were little I made them each a few pairs of shorts and I made myself a jumper. A really, really ugly jumper that was too big and not very flattering. A real seamstress would have slapped her hand to her forehead and muttered something unprintable.

I have a short attention span and I am NOT a perfectionist. I'm more of a, "Hey, it looks fine to me!" kind of a girl. I'm a, "Can I do this in an hour or less? Cause I've got better things to do..."

Anyway, who needs to sew? We've got secondhand shops if you need something vintage.

Except...

I need a regency ball dress or a 1940's dressy dress for Girl. She went and out grew the Jane Austen dress my mother made her (which never truly fit right any way).

I met a lady who said she'd be happy to make a dress for Girl...after she finished sewing bridesmaid dresses for her TWO daughters weddings which take place this summer.

I need a dress by the 11th of June. We are attending the Narnia Ball. After talking with a friend I learned that her daughters will be dressed in 1940's school girl uniforms (if you've watched the movie, then you know what I'm talking about). Girl has NO desire to dress as a school girl (I think it's because she pretty much is one and would prefer to dress UP).

We looked on Ebay and found a couple of lovely dresses ranging in price from $55.00 to well over $1,000. Egad. The $55.00 dress is a bargain, but again, they sew it according to the measurements you send. What if it doesn't fit right? That's what happened with the dress my Mother made.

So, Mom? (not that you read my blog, but...) You were right. I should have learned to sew. I should have knuckled down and paid attention. I now regret that I didn't.

You were right.

I was wrong.

In case any of you have a Jane Austen style dress, say in a size 6 or 8, just hanging in your closet or perhaps a vintage 1940's modest, cocktail dress, give me a holler.

I'll be at the Goodwill, sorting through piles of dresses looking for something vintage, cute, not too adult, that is either green, blue, or black, and is wearable.

Curses!

Taming the Jungle

2009-06-24T11:49:00.000-07:00

The yard may kill me.

Beloved and I walked up to the upper yard last night. I haven't been up there in two years. My neglecting the yard was all a part of my plan to force FIL to take care of business.

He didn't.

I can not BELIEVE how over grown everything is. Blackberries are everywhere. The raspberries are out of control. The grape vines are snaking their way into everything from the berries to the Rhodie's to winding way up into a fir tree.

Yikes.

The grass is almost as tall as I am. Okay, maybe not that tall. It's disgusting and I'm not sure I'll ever get it under control.

I'd need an army.

If I had the money...

but I don't.

This is what I get for trying to make a man do something he didn't want to do.

Now I have a jungle to tame.

Me Tarzan?

Whose Jane?

And He Became a Most Excellent Father

2009-06-21T12:32:00.000-07:00

I married a man who did not want children.

"The world," he intoned, "is a wicked place. I cannot bring children into this world and see them suffer."

Yawn

I, on the other hand, planned on having oodles and oodles of children. I didn't do drugs in high school...because I wanted healthy babies. I didn't sleep around...because I wanted healthy babies with the right guy.

Oodles and oodles of babies...

It's a story I've told before. The buying of Boys birthright. Beloved had other plans but also had a desperate longing for a certain piece of stereo equipment. It's a weakness he has to this day.

I bartered for a baby.

He got his speakers.

I got my baby.

And I proved that I was right. He made a wonderful father.

Maybe not a first. He was so young. So immature. We were, after all, in our very early twenties and he didn't want children, remember?

But time passed and I marvelled at this man who didn't want children. This man who was so over-protective that he made me look like a welfare mother. He was the man who held Girl after a long days work because her hours of screaming were turning me into a raving lunatic. He was the man who took Boy to breakfast every Saturday with the guys so that he could listen and learn.

He had tea parties with Girl and her friends.

He taught Boy to shoot a bow.

And every night he read the Bible to his children as I sat by listening and smiled to myself.

He made an excellent father.

This man who did not want children danced with his Girl at the Father/Daughter Ball, even though he doesn't like to dance. This man who prays that the Lord will guide his Boy along paths of righteousness.

This man who did not want children became a most excellent father.

Happy Fathers Day my Beloved.

Oh, and you can admit it, I was right!

Summer of Cake - Part Two

2009-06-19T17:52:00.000-07:00

You've waited so long. I know it's been hard, but I promise this cake is worth the wait. So, without further delay, I give you:

Teri's Lemon Cake

This is it you say? Foolish, foolish reader! Don't you know that a cake cannot be judged by a picture? Trust Annie on this! Teri's Lemon Cake is oh so lemony. It's beyond those lemon bars. It will ravish your taste buds and you'll beg for more. I know this because it happens every time I make it. They always ask for seconds. Preachers, teachers, mom's and dad's, they always want a second slice of Lemon Cake. Ahhhh, beloved Lemon cake! Thank you dear Teri for sharing this amazing, crowd pleasing cake.

The key ingredient is something you just might already have in your kitchen.

Teri's Lemon Cake

1 pkg lemon gelatin 3oz
1 cup boiling water (dissolve gelatin and let cool)
4 eggs
3/4 cup veg. Oil
1 pkg lemon cake mix

Beat eggs, oil, and dissolved gelatin - add cake mix and blend at med speed for two minutes.

Bake 350 degrees for 30-45 min.

Cool

Blend well 2 cups powdered sugar and 1/2 lemon juice.

Poke small holes with toothpick into top of cake. Pour lemon juice mixture slowly over cake.

Gently spread with back of spoon until all juice is evenly spread over-cake (let some run down the side of cake)

Serve cold

The Singer llllooovvveeedd her some lemon cake!

Bake it. Eat it. You know you want to!

Then come back and leave me some sugar.

Pain!

2009-06-18T06:07:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I hurt my lower back. Doing nothing, I might add.

Yesterday I tweaked my shoulder. It radiates from the Rhomboid muscle and moves up over my shoulder. My elbow feels strange. I'm in so much pain that I cannot take a deep breath.

And tonight is my dinner party...

All this adds up to a visit to the chiropractor.

I've never been. I'm a chiropractor virgin. I'm uber scared about it. I hate being touched by strangers. I'm so afraid that I won't be able to relax that I'll end up hurting more.

Beloved swears by the chiropractor and everyone from my co-workers at the gym to the checkout lady at the store are urging me to go.

At this point I feel like I don't have a choice. I have to go. I can't breath or function.

Again, I wasn't doing anything when this happened. I wasn't loading hay onto the truck or unloading grain. I wasn't stacking wood or working out.

Heaven help me!

The Places We've Been, The People We've Seen

2009-06-17T06:28:00.000-07:00

We've been busy. That's right! We've been the uninvited guests at a surprise party. CAKE! We've been to see those tarty machines at the laundry mat. Then we took a wee trek south to see what there was to see.

Our first stop was to the Abbey. It's such a peaceful place (except for the grounds keepers who were making plenty of racket). We had a little debate as to whether or not the Brothers still wore the traditional monks robe. I said, "Nay!" Twas, wrong. Girl was right. She and friend nearly squealed and begged for the monk's autograph when he suddenly appeared on the scene. They maintained a respectful distance but both were sad they didn't get his photo.

On our last visit to the Abbey we hadn't noticed the HUGE pipe organ that fills the balcony. My, oh my, how I want to hear that thing in action. I bet the pews shake. I really do.

Girl and friend. I noted Girl's silence the other day as she, the Singer, and myself drove along. She loves the Singer, but a day trip is always, always better with a friend.

The Abbey's grounds are beautiful and the roses delightful.

Here she is! The Singer having her photo snapped. She doesn't like this picture. Gahh! She's so beautiful!

We then traveled on and found the falls. I love this place and the Singer had never been. It was a muggy day, but the overcast sky kept us fairly cool. The hike wasn't bad and I'm happy to report that my back only hurt a wee, tiny, bit. Tis true Singer! Tis true!

After our visit to the falls, we headed to town and browsed the shops. It's funky town and one of its greatest claims to fame is the mayor, who is a transsexual. Singer saw him/her. For my part, I'd never seen him/her up close and I thought to myself, "What an ugly woman" (I need to get off farm more). Singer gasped, "Is that HIM?" Dang. We shoulda gotta photo.

We picked up Boy and headed to dinner. Then we hung out at camp and were entertained by Boy as he sang for the Singer. As you can see in the photo above, they are both goofy. Singer and I were pregnant at the same time with our children (both times, I might add) so the pride that I saw in her eyes as she listened to Boy sing was something very much akin to my own. She's been a part of our lives for sooooo long and I simply love this photo of them together.

Our day ended with our cat, Dingo, jumping up on the Singers lap. This is NOT a normal, everyday, experience. Dingo hates everyone who isn't family. He hisses. He'll refuse to let you pass. He's a pain. However, he likes the Singer. Strange that.

It was a beautiful day and we still have a few days left! Dinner party on Thursday and Lemon Cake recipe and pics later.

Ahhh lemon...

The Singer has Arrived

2009-06-14T21:54:00.000-07:00

She's here!

It's been seven years folks. Seven years since I've see her beautiful face or heard her squeal. Seriously, she squeals, but I love her anyway.

Thus far I've shown her quite the time.

We've been to the Dollar Tree

We've been to Starbucks

We've gone to Winco and purchase groceries

We ate pizza & salad

We watched a movie

We washed the dishes

Pretty darn exciting stuff!

Tomorrow we're going to the gym, we'll pick up water, and we may go to the laundry mat.

We'll also be baking cake. CAKE! Remember, it's the summer of cake and tomorrow promises to be delicious.

Do I smell lemons?

As Time Goes By

2009-06-11T09:41:00.000-07:00

Two years ago, Boy left home. He was barely 17 at the time and my little Mommy's heart just fluttered at the thought of him going. I worried. I wondered. I prayed.

Boy had been invited to participate in an intern program with Bible Teaching Inc. It was an amazing opportunity for him to learn and grow. BTI is near and dear to our hearts and there were many a time that Beloved and Boy attended the Father-Son camps. Good times.

In the two years that he has been gone we've done lots of driving. Lots of driving. The camp where Boy lives is just a wee bit over an hour from our house, not too far, but just far enough. I honestly believe that our cars could drive there by themselves.

For his part, Boy has been busy learning, working, growing. It's been time well spent. It has been interesting to watch the boy within him fade and the man he has become emerge. His interests have broadened and he's had experiences that will stay with him for the rest of his life.

Last month, Boy and the other interns completed the program and will spend the summer counseling, teaching, and mentoring children, as they have for the last two years. In the fall, there are big changes coming. The Lord will scatter these young men hither and thither as they take the things they've learned and go out into the world. School, jobs, and other responsibilities will demand their attention. But I don't think they'll regret the time they've invested.

As hard as it was to let Boy go, I'm glad we did.

Learning to build

Learning to make music

Ironically, I don't have any pictures of them studying....

Ahhhh....A pumpkin with "mom" carved into it. He'd probably kill me if he knew I posted this!

Graduation - at least he didn't have any holes in his jeans and he wore actual shoes. They are a laid back group down there.

So, a big congrats to my Boy. I'm proud of you and can't wait to see where the Lord leads you next!

A Day Filled with Wonder - Repost

2009-06-10T06:56:00.000-07:00

I'm off to work and to the laundry mat today, thus no time to write. Instead, I'm reposting this little diddy from October 3, 2006. Apparently, I had too much time on my hands.

Okay, maybe not wonder as in awe. It is a day more like “I wonder why...”

For instance, I am wondering why Teen Pact (www.teenpact.com), the comprehensive leadership class (takes place at your state capital, lasts 4 days, looks nice on your college entrance paperwork) costs so much. I have been putting off having Boy attend, because it is a 45-minute drive, and I supposed if I was taking ONE child, then I would wait a few years and they could go together. This year was supposed to be the year. HOWEVER, I either forgot how much it cost or they have raised the prices since the last time I looked. The cost: $209.00 PER STUDENT.

Why?

I am also wondering why M & M’s suddenly melt in your hand, instead of your mouth. This question popped into my mind today as I was washing the dishes (yeah, I am a real deep thinker!). Do you remember that commercial from way back when? Didn’t they say, “Melts in your mouth, not in your hand”? So, if they melt in your hand now...what did they do to M & M’s when I was a kid to make them NOT melt in your hand?

Why?

And why do chickens eat their own eggs? We suddenly are having problems with this. Our chickens are fed pretty well (I have the feed bill to prove it) but suddenly they prefer to eat eggs. Is this what you would call chickibalism and will it lead to mad chicken disease?

Why?

Then there is the toaster. Why is there a setting on the toaster that will blacken a slice of toast to a hard, shrunken, piece of charcoal? Does someone actually eat it that way? If so...

Why?

Have you ever wondered why things that taste wonderful are also the same things that are killing you? Why do things that are supposed to be good for you taste like...well...like yuck? Rice cakes? What sadist thought that one up?

Why?

Why do teenagers eat so much, sleep so much, and act so crabby? I mean really! If I have had plenty of sleep and a nice meal, I am a happy girl (especially if it was something I shouldn’t have eaten! Ha!). They do not have to work so they can buy their food and bed. Teenagers are in that one space of time when they can explore their world and not have to pay for it. So why are they so crabby half the time?

Why?

Maybe I have had too much time on my hands today. Perhaps I should have mopped the floor instead of wondering about these things. But I do wonder. Don’t you?

And the Beat Goes On

2009-06-09T13:20:00.000-07:00

Girl is leaving tomorrow for a few fun filled days with her adopted grandma and auntie. She'll frolic in the sand, watch movies, sleep in, and in general she'll have a darn good time.

I, on the other hand, will attempt to get this house company ready, inside and out. The Singer will be arriving via PDX on Sunday and I'm no where ready for company. No where near. Boy brought most of his stuff home, which is now jammed into his room. The room where Girl will be sleeping...maybe...it depends on whether I find a home for his two amps, two HUGE bags of clothes, a sword, boxes of books, and an ancient typewriter.

I also have to make a daily appearance at my place of employment.

Drat.

There are not enough hours in my day!

The Death of the Boob Tube

2009-06-06T17:14:00.000-07:00

In a few short days television will forever be changed. No longer will the analog signal float through the airwaves to entertain the masses. Unless, of course, you have satellite service, cable, or have already purchased your converter box. Have you made the switch to high definition television?

We have not.

To many people our skimpy television viewing is mystifying. We are an enigma. We do not subscribe to any outside service, nor do we intend to. Frankly, we’re not huge television fans. Sure, if it’s here, we’ll watch it. I’ll admit to being entrance by HGTV, The Food Network and The Sci-Fi channel. Thanks to Girl’s adopted grandma, we fell in love with American Idol this past season, and I admit that we’ll scan the channels searching for something to watch. For the most part, we are usually disappointed and thus we don’t watch a great deal of TV.

We adore Netflix.

When Beloved and I were first married we were televisionless. Both our families were shocked. They offered to give/buy/ loan us a TV, yet we were fine without one. We read books, we worked on projects, we talked, and we really didn’t miss the the boob tube. When our children came along, we restricted television viewing but we weren’t weird about it. It’s not that we think television is evil (okay, I kinda think it is), we simply felt that the children’s time would be better spent outside.

We do not regret that decision.

Of course there are shows we like, many of which are on the Public Broadcasting station and yes, sometimes I watch the news (much to Girl’s dismay). The one eyed monster often sits blankly staring at us, urging us, silently, to grab the remote and settle in for a few hours of mindless dribble. Who doesn’t like mindless dribble?

We grew up with television.

Happy Days, Rosanne, Gilligan’s Island, Emergency!, ER, Friends, Blazer Basketball (that’s for you Mr. Mike), MTV, VH1, HBO, Showtime, and on and on and on. The TV was a member of the family. We’d all gather round it, our dinners on TV trays, as we inhaled the fragrance of electricity and the scent of dying brain cells.

Good times people, good times.

Yet… Isn’t there something more? Remember board games, the art of conversation, and classic literature?

In a few short days our television will grow strangely quiet. We’ll be forced to find something else to do besides “veg” in front of the tube. Our Netflix will still be delivered to our mailbox and we’ll enjoy episodes of Jeeves and Wooster, SG-1, and various other commercial free entertainment. I’m sure we’ll all suffer from some attachment issues, but I think we’ll be okay.

After all, we still remember how to play Scrabble.

Butcher, Baker, Candle Stick Maker

2009-06-05T09:48:00.000-07:00

I watched my Girl get ready and leave for work today. She does yard work for the ~~persnickety~~ sweet old lady who lives up the hill from us. Mrs. Fastidious owned a plant nursery for many years and she knows a thing or two about plants. She is very happy to impart her wisdom to her young Padawan. Unfortunately, her young pupil is less than thrilled with her vocation. Girl wants a new job. Any job, as long as it doesn’t involve plants, weeding, dead-heading, or repotting.

Watching her sour face as she left the house reminded me of my past and the jobs I have held. I’ve been a receptionist, data entry operator, worked in tech support for a local hospital, a general typist, head of the legal department for a major retailer, a deli clerk, a writer (yes, I actually got paid), a customer service rep, a foster parent, and currently, a Circuit Coach at Curves. Some of these positions I held for a very short time, say one month (the deli and tech support). While others I held for years.

I’ve banked enough points that I’ll actually get social security. Which I’m sure my children will appreciate considering I’ll probably be living with one of them. Okay, it won’t be with Girl. She informed me, quiet briskly when she was four that, and I quote, “You ain’t livin’ wiff me!” unquote.

Sorry Girl. I know you hate it when I tell that story, but it’s funny!

Wouldn’t it be great if we could have our dream job? I mean, seriously, a job that you like and love? You know what I mean…$$$$$$

Random Jobs I Wouldn’t Mind Having:

A New York Times best selling author - You knew this would be first. I mean, if James Fry can get a book contract, get on Oprah, and publish a second book of dribble with NO punctuation or attention to grammar, why can’t I? I’d be hysterical at book signings. I’m a people person! And I could totally handle fame. Totally.

Except maybe the tabloids, because you know they’d find my mother. You also know she’d spill the beans about my childhood and the time I stole candy from the little grocery store down the street. She’d also tell them about the time I nearly killed the GC with a tap shoe. More than likely, my mother would sue me for all the mental abuse I’ve caused her over the years.

The tabloids would also find my sis-in-law who would be more than happy to sell them the pictures of a drunken Annie from years ago. Thank God I kept my clothes on! I really wish I could get those pictures back…And no, I didn’t inhale.

Pastry Chef - I would make an amazing pastry chef and I’m a hat girl. You know it’s true. I’d totally rock a toque. I would make the perfect moody chef. After all, I’m heading into pre-menopause and it doesn’t get much more fun than that. Imagine, if you will, the crowded five star restaurant when Nicolas Sarkozy (accompanied by his amazingly beautiful, young, wife), stroll in and demand a table. Of course they would be seated right away! They would insist on a special dessert and I would refuse simply because I do not like the color of his tie.

Not to mention, being a pastry chef would be alarmingly bad for my waistline. The summer of cake is already giving me a run for my money. I cannot imagine what would happen if I was surrounded by sweets day in and day out. They say (although I have no idea who they are) that you grow weary of goodies, but I’m not so sure.

A Librarian - I love me some books. I really do. But…it’s so quiet in the library and you have to work with all those children…

An Archeologist - Years ago, my mother wouldn’t let me attend the only college who offered me a drama scholarship because she had an astrology chart read for me and the ~~witch~~ lady (and I use the term very, very loosely) told her my future was not on stage. We argued and I confessed that I either wanted to be a writer, a lawyer, or an archeologist, she was stunned. An archeologist?

I have a passion for history and the thought of discovering some cool ancient city or people group has always intrigued me. Unfortunately, most of those types of digs take place in hot, dry, sandy, scary, locations. That, and I’d never get Beloved on a plane.

Ice Cream Taste Tester - you KNOW they exist! Why else would they have those tiny spoons?

Blogging - Okay, I know that there are a handful of bloggers who get PAID to blog, but who pays them? Seriously, some of these folks have hundreds of followers? A nice gig if you can get it.

Personal Assistant - I would only want this job if I worked for a friend. You know, someone who I like and I can tell them straight out if they are getting a little too big for their britches. I would make them coffee, pick up their dry cleaning, make their travel arrangements, and act as a body guard when their mother called.

“I’m so sorry Carol, but Mrs. Pulitzer Prize can’t see you just now. She’s having a massage. Can I take a message?”

I would make a great personal assistant. Just keep that in mind, those of you who may one day be rich and famous. I knew you when…and I have enough dirt on you to tattle to the National Enquirer. I’m just sayin’…

I’ve held jobs that I hated and ones I cried over when I left. There were times when I was home with the babies that I’d have given my left hand for a job, any job (but then I’d never have beaten Zelda!). So, when I note the sad doe eyes of girl, I cannot help but hope she, eventually, finds a vocation that she likes and loves.

She could be anything! Butcher, baker, candle stick maker? Well, maybe not the candle stick maker…

Madam President?

Wait! What’s the number for People Magazine?

Mr. Deville, I’m ready for my close up…

What Dreams May Come

2009-06-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

So, I'm still hopped up on Norco and Flexeril. The combination leaves me beyond tired. Last night, because I felt better I decided to wash the dishes. We do it the old fashioned way because we do not own a dishwasher. As I stood at the sink, scrubby, bubbly away, Beloved walked in and said, "What are you doing".

"I'm washing the dishes, I feel better," I said.

He reminded me that drugs give you a false sense of better and that he and Girl would do the dishes.

I brushed his suggestion aside and kept scrubbing away. Until my nerve endings in my lower back said, "HEY! We have an injury down here!!!! Remember?" Then my right leg suggested I sit down because the nerves in my back do actually run all the way down into my legs. Funny that.

I was then forced to repeat over and over again the exact same phrase I had muttered all evening on Sunday, as I was bent over walking like a ninety-year-old woman,

"This sucks eggs!"

My Boy called to check on me and to remind me to take it easy. He was slightly miffed to find out that I'd washed most of the dishes. Boy put in his angry eyes (I could tell he had them on because his voice became hard, just like his daddy's does) and told me I need to take it easy! Beloved reminded me (again) that lower back injuries take time to heal and if I don't give it the time it needs then it will be worse in the long run.

Beloved tucked me into bed at 9:30 because I couldn't keep my eyes open due to the combination of drugs the doctor had prescribed. I dreamt of snow and work, of stacks of dishes to be washed and telling my FIL that he is a mean old man. I dreamt that I'd lost Girl somewhere and couldn't find her, then berated myself for not making sure she had a cell phone. I dreamt that my book got published and I was on the NY Times Best Seller list and my mother still didn't like me.

Be warned: Norco, Flexeril, Pumpkin Curry soup, and Irish soda bread will lead to funky dreams.

Thus here I am. The duct cleaning guys are coming this afternoon. Wendy will be here in just over a week. I have missed two days of work. I can't workout. I can't bend over, I can't sit very long, nor can I stand very long.

But I'm high on legal drugs so I guess all is right with the world.

Drugs are Good

2009-06-01T19:10:00.000-07:00

I hurt my back.

I hurt it doing NOTHING.

I simply reached around something and boom, pain.

I couldn't stand up.

I could barely walk.

It hurt to stand.

It hurt to sit.

It hurt to lay down.

My options were limited.

A visit to the doctor. A very L O N G walk from the parking lot to the reception area. An even longer walk to the exam room. A snippy, insensitive nurse, and a strange doctor rounded out my morning.

Doctor asked me questions as I leaned on the exam table.

Questions like:

"Are you in pain?"

"Does it hurt to stand?"

"Does sit hurt to sit?"

"Where does it hurt?"

"Why don't you hop up here..."

Seriously, hop?

"Has this happened to you before?"

And my favorite:

"Welcome to the wonderful world of lower back pain..."

All the while I leaned on the table, shifting from one foot to the other.

At long last I am home, filled to the brim with drugs that make me slightly dizzy and apparently fairly amusing to my family members.

Drugs are good.

Good drugs.

Good.