Focus On The Positive

The kiddie train must have been full (likely with other moms who didn't want to ride the roller coaster anymore) because I was definitely not riding along smoothly this week. However, I did have some wonderful experiences this week and in an attempt to focus on the positive, as I so often demand my family, I will tell you about them. Our family, all 5 of us, had a lovely dinner at Chili's - good food, good value, great company. My daughter got into a very hard to get into program at the college we visited. My daughter is ranked in the top 10 seniors of her graduating class. My ladies Bible study iced and decorated cupcakes for a soup kitchen. That was all good except for when the icing bag exploded . . . 3 times. I walked 5 times with my neighbor, averaging 2 miles each walk and I know this because my pedometer has decided to behave. As a result of the walking and eating better I lost 3 pounds (I know it's not a lot, but we're focusing on the positive). I finally found a pair of Sketcher sandals to replace the ones Bart ate and bought them in a whole size smaller than I usually wear. I told my daughter that the 3 pounds I lost must have all been in my feet. And finally, our son (who was just nominated for National Honor Society) made our family breakfast yesterday morning. Scrambled eggs, home-made pancakes, sausage, oranges and hot tea. It doesn't get much better than that!

Life Adapted

Our anniversary week was like a roller coaster, much like our life . . . It began fine, meeting with friends, who live far away, at an Arby's. We moved 6 tables together, fought about who would pay (we snuck two 20 dollar bills in our friend's purse when she wasn't looking - heehee), decorated the tables with flowers that were given as gifts, ate and sat for hours. Every one of us left beaming with delight. The next day we said good-bye to a lovely couple and their daughter who sold all their possessions to move to an over-crowded island for mission work. The next day I went to my son's baseball game - they lost . . . bad. The next day I had invited an old friend to lunch, but forgot and when she knocked on the door, which I answered in my sweats, all I had to offer was a bunch of rotten bananas. I made banana muffins, which I served with butter, tea served with honey and a small fruit salad of apples and grapes. We talked and laughed for about 2 hours until we noticed how sick the cat was looking. She left, I called my daughter at college (it's her cat) and she came home to say good-bye to Kate. Kate died during the night. On our anniversary morning I asked my husband to bury Kate next to the flower garden. He said, "Sure." I went out to say good-bye to Kate and realized my husband thought I said, "Bury Kate IN the flower garden." The next day I hopped on a plane to look at a college with my daughter in Florida, which is pretty far from NJ. Let's see, we got lost, but found our way, loved the college which causes me distress, visited a friend, went to the beach only to find it full of Man-O-Wars, said good-bye to my friend and then flew home. It's now a new week and hopefully instead of a roller coaster, I can ride on the little kiddie train . . .

It Began With A Broom

It all began innocently enough. I grabbed the broom and began to sweep a corner of the garage. I pushed aside an old vacuum cleaner so I could sweep under it and I saw what junk it was and I didn't want to put it back, so I grabbed a big garbage bag and put the vacuum cleaner in it. I had space left in the bag and thought it a waste not to fill the bag with other junk so I pulled other stuff out to be thrown away. But then the bag began to overflow and I needed to get another bag. The second bag was only half full when I was finished with that corner so I decided to sweep another part of the garage. I swept under a shelf that needed organizing and noticed items we had since 1988 and I easily filled up bag #2. My third bag got filled up in blink, as did bag #4, 5 and 6. After bag #8 or maybe it was 9, my foot began to hurt. Just about that time my husband pulled into the driveway. I limped over to him and said, "My foot hurts, 'feet hurt'." He said, "Don't you 'feet hurt' me! Are you cookoo?!" I ignored him and asked sweetly, "Do you think you can take this stuff to the dump?" Which he did, all 480 pounds of it! When he got back I had 3 more bags and a severely sore foot. He took away my broom and my garbage bags and didn't call me 'feet hurt' for days : ( But, alas, yesterday was our anniversary, and he is the one who is cookoo because for 26 years he's been married to me. He wrote on my anniversary card, "For My Feet Hurt." : )

A Stitch Story

When my oldest daughter was three, she loved going to visit my good friend across the street. She would pick up and run across the street. As you can imagine, this was not a safe thing for her to do. First, I scolded, to no avail. Then, I spanked, to no avail. Then, I spanked and scolded, to no avail. Then, I set her in her playpen every time I left the room. Finally, I sat her down at the curb and told her that if she ran across the street and a car was coming, SMACK! She'd hit the pavement and her skin would split open and I'd have to take her to the emergency room where the doctor would use a needle and thread to stitch her back together again. That prevented her from running across the street, however, that did not prevent her from falling on her chin in the driveway. I took her to the emergency room and the nurse said, "She needs stitches." My daughter began to scream, "NO, I DON'T WANT THE DOCTOR TO PUT A NEEDLE IN ME AND SEW ME BACK TOGETHER!" The nurse said, "Oh, she's had stitches before?" "No," I said. The nurse replied in disgust, "Well, how does a 3 year old know the graphic details of stitches?" "Because," I said, weakly, "I am a good mother." I guess it doesn't matter what we say to the ER nurses, the fact that you're in an ER in the first place reflects poorly on your motherhood. The nurse had to strap my daughter in a papoose to keep her from running out the door into the street. Sheesh, if I had had a papoose I could have kept my daughter from running into the street, too.

P.S. To Love Thy Neighbor

A friend of mine said to me, "Imagine if you had planted your neighbors plants? They could have been pretty annoyed with you." Certainly, they could have been, with every right, annoyed with me if I had planted someone else's Easter gifts in their garden. I hope I would have thought the whole thing out before I actually followed through with "loving thy neighbor." But this leads me to a whole other thought process. I really did want to love my neighbor and I really did want to follow God's command and I really did have the best of intentions and I really did love the idea of planting those flowers and I, I, I . . . who's this about anyway? . . . certainly not my neighbor . . . and there goes the good deed, lost in a sea of pride. God really does want us to love our neighbors, but in a way that our neighbors would appreciate. Last night someone said to me, "People who are hard to love are hard to love." It's easy to do an act of kindness for thy neighbor if the act is something we love to do. The real love comes from doing an act of kindness that thy neighbor would love. And as it turns out, God being the merciful and wise God that He is, I was provided with an opportunity to do an act of kindness when my neighbor said she'd walk with me. We spent the morning walking and talking and then sitting and talking and then standing and talking and then saying good-bye and talking. I do love to talk. Maybe this was an act of kindness on her part . . .

Stitches

So, my husband says, "Can you move your toes?"
I tried to and cried, "Waaaa, I can't move my toes!"
He said, "Yes, look your toes are moving."
I cried, "Waaaa, I can't feel my toes!"
He said, "Nobody can feel their toes."
I cried, "Waaaa . . . wait, what?"
He said, "Touch them and see if you feel anything."
I said, "Waaaa, I'm afraid."
He said, "Don't be afraid, because if you can't feel anything, it won't hurt when you get stitches."
I said, "Waaaa, I don't want stitches. I'll just stitch it myself. Get me a needle and thread."
He said, "Get in the car."
To the doctor in the ER I said, "Waaaa, can't I just stitch it myself."
The doctor said, "Does it hurt?"
I said, "Waaaa, it does."
He said, "What does it feel like?"
I said, "Like pain, duh."
He said, "Well, I'm done. Come back in 10 days and I'll remove the stitches."
To the nurse I said, "Can't I just remove the stitches myself and do I really need a tetanus shot and can I give it to myself if I really need it?"
The nurse said, "No and yes and no." However, after he gave me the tetanus shot, he gave my husband one sterilized Suture Removal Kit and said, "She ain't coming back, is she?"
" . . . ah . . . no," said the wisest man I know, my one and only, my feet hurt.

My Foot Hurts, Feet Hurt

One evening about 24 years ago, my husband came up from behind me and whispered (into my bad ear), "My feet hurt."
I said, "Aww, what happened?"
He said, smiling, "You happened."
I said, "What?! What did I do to make your feet hurt?"
He said, "My feet don't hurt."
I said, "Yes, they do."
He said, "No, they don't."
I said, "Why did you just tell me your feet hurt?"
He said, "You're cookoo. I never said that."
I said, "Yes, you did, you came up to me and whispered 'my feet hurt'."
He said, "I said, 'my sweetheart', I was whispering sweet nothings into your ear."
I said, "That was my bad ear and who are you calling cookoo?"
So, the joke has been for 24 years that we call each other "feet hurt."
Today I said, "My foot hurts."
He said, "You mean feet hurt."
I said, "No, my foot hurts. I dropped the toilet tank top on it and I think I need stitches."
He said, "You're cookoo."
I said, "Please take me to the hospital."
He said, "How bad does your foot hurt, feet hurt?"
I said, "Bad and who are you calling cookoo?"

Love Thy Neighbor

I had been thinking about how God commands us to love our neighbors as ourselves. It's not a suggestion and there is no qualifier like, "Love your neighbor if he is nice." So, as I was walking today I was thinking, "what can I do to show my neighbor that I love him?" I saw these beautiful Easter plants on the side of one of the neighbor's home. I thought, "I'll finish my walk, go home to get my gardening tools and come back and plant them for them." I was tickled as I walked my 2 miles and thought about it. I plotted the whole scene in my head. I knew exactly where I would plant each Easter Lily and each Tulip. I visualized the Sun's pattern across their property and their trees to figure out what spot would get the best sun/shade combination. I even vowed to go back to their house each week with my watering can and fertilizer to ensure the plants would thrive. You reap what you sow, right? What a blessing it would be for me to love my neighbor, to follow God's command. I could share all this with the ladies at my Bible study and be an inspiration, a shining example. I was smiling ear to ear . . . until . . . I walked back past my neighbor's house . . . the Easter plants were gone . . . they were loaded up in the back of their car . . . apparently they were Easter gifts . . . those rat finks!!

Praise The Lord

I am getting so sick and tired of hearing women complain about motherhood. There are new books published each day on the subject of motherhood and stay-at-home moms. Each is said to be written with wit and humor, but instead most are written with a negative spin about moms being the "victim" because no one ever told them how hard it is. Wawawa, call the wambulance! There are movies on the topic as well, with beautiful, witty and hostile mothers who are striving to feel worth in their chaotic life. I want to shout from the roof tops and slap these ladies upside their heads (okay, I do understand that some of these emotions may be the result of unstable hormones brought on by menopause . . . but now I digress). Stop complaining ladies and start praising God for your blessings. Repeat after me. "Thank you God for the miracle of life and my beautiful child(ren). Thank you for this kitchen and bathroom that I must clean and this home that shelters us. Thank you for dollar store goodie bag items. Thank you for my vacuum cleaner that vacuums up dollar store goodie bag items. Thank you for the food that I put on the table each day. Thank you that I have able hands and feet to serve this food to my family. Thank you Lord for the blessings that are abounding in my life." When you start praising God for each of your blessings you will see that there is no time for complaining because we could praise God all day long. That's it for now for this rant, I must go yell at blessing number 3 to get off the phone . . .

Believe Me

I can't believe another month has gone by. It's already April. It's getting too close to shorts and bathing suit weather. I started off my month very poorly, diet wise. For breakfast I had eggs . . . chocolate malted ones with speckled candy coating - yummy. For my mid-morning snack I had more eggs, marshmallow ones with dark chocolate coating. Then for lunch I figured I needed to clean up my menu so I had cheese . . . doodles, that is . . . lots of them. As I type this, my fingers are still orange. I decided I needed to get out and walk off some of these bad calories so I walked 3 and a half miles down to the new Shop Rite where I purchased a muffin . . . with chocolate chips. I walked the 3 and a half miles back home and I was starving. Guess what I had then? M & M's!! Yummy, yummy, yummy. . . and if you believed any of this . . . April Fool's.

That's A Muffin!

This is a muffin made the usual fabulous way I make them. Whole grains and oats, fresh eggs and milk, pure vanilla extract, organic sugar and raw nuts. My son, who has been body building asked if I'd add some protein powder to the muffin batter the next time. I thought that my muffins were pretty fantastic the regular way, but being the wonderful and understanding mother that I am, I made them with the protein powder like he asked.

The results? . . .

well,

see for yourself.

Wow!! Now that's a muffin!

Short Accounts

I have a sweet friend who called me today with a concern that she had gossiped about a woman who is hurting. The thing is that I don't even recall the conversation (yay for peri-menopause!). She had it on her heart to apologize for the offense (one sentence), so she called me and confessed. She felt that instead of saying something that was negative, she should have said something positive. I was so touched by her sensitivity! I love having a friend that feels bad if she (not even on purpose) says something less than encouraging about her friends. Here is the irony (and I have to say that I love how God works) if I ever meet the "offended" woman (and if I even remember this conversation beyond tomorrow) my heart will be so tender toward her because instead of the negative comment (which I don't recall), I will forever remember that she is hurting. It's such a reminder to me that everybody we meet has a story to tell. I haven't met a person yet that has escaped life without a few painful bumps. Plus, my friend may have felt I'd think poorly of her because of her comment, however, I think more highly of her than ever because of her sensitive nature. It's what makes her so special to me. I applaud her for short account with God, her courage for calling me and her love of others . . . I applaud me for picking her as a friend (yay me!). . . and I applaud God for the irony of it all.

That's The Kind Of Guy He Is

Today I fought with my husband. Not in private like most couples do. No, we fought in the busiest place in our county, the new Shop Rite. Yes, folks, it was a sight and unfortunately most of the county saw us. It started out as an "adventure." I said to my husband this morning, "hey, you wanna go to the new Shop Rite with me today, it'll be an adventure." He gave me a look that said, "I know you and shopping is never fun with you and I hate Shop Rite and you know that I vowed never to go there." But he said, "Sure" (because that's the kind of guy he is). We got there and the parking lot was packed. We walked inside and the store was packed. The floors are hard and cold. The aisles are narrow and long. The ceilings are high and sounds echo. He said something and I heard, "mumble mumble, mumble mumble, mumble mumble." I said, "WHAT?" He said it again and again and again. Finally, I went over and shouted, "I can't hear you!" He said, "Never mind, it's not funny anymore." He stopped to look at gummy bears and I lost him. He stopped again, this time to look at videos and I lost him. When I found him I yelled at him. While I was yelling at him some old lady stood there just looking at me. I glared at her and thought, "Take a picture why don't you!" She said, "Excuse me, but you're standing in front of my cart." I stepped out of the way, turned to my husband and said, "We need to go back to aisle 1, I just put about $10.00 of groceries in her cart." And just like that, the fight was over (because that's the kind of guy he is).

A Little Nerd Story

Many years ago my husband and I were invited to a Halloween Party. We decided to go as nerds. So, we went to a thrift shop at one of the local churches to buy outfits. I picked out a lovely polyester pants suite, old eye glasses and a bright red purse. My husband picked out polyester pants, a polyester shirt, a pocket protector, old glasses, a chunky belt and black shoes. We played the "nerds" all night. In my bright red purse I had big, yellow rubber gloves and using them I picked up discarded food scraps. I placed each food scrap in my purse and later that evening set a table for my husband and myself. I set out the food scraps and we ate them. My husband played his part a little too well, if you catch my drift. He buttoned his shirt wrong, left his zipper down, tucked his shirt into his underwear, wore white socks with his black shoes and flood-water pants, taped his glasses and wore the pocket protector (all things he has done at one time or another - sorry Honey, just sayin'). We won the costume contest, unanimously. But here is the best part. When we were at the thrift shop getting our costumes my husband came over to me and said very excitedly while holding up some ties, "Look at these really cool ties I just bought! They were only a dollar each. Aren't they really nice??!!" "Sweetie," I said flatly, "those are the ties I donated here last month that I pulled out of your closet. Give them back." Which he did . . . under protest . . . just sayin' . . .

B4 U Hit Send

Well, if you saw my last post you saw a picture of my new phone. This is the first upgrade to our cell phone service since 2001. Our old cell phone, which I shared with my husband, was big, with big buttons and no texting capabilities. It had an antenna, great reception and easy to navigate tools. I got my new phone (my own, but not really because even though I don't share with my husband anymore, I share this one with my son - but whatever) and quickly learned how to use it. I have texted my daughter at college with the appropriate emoticons, I have texted a picture of my omelet to my daughter while she was in study hall at school, I have texted my son's "friend" to ask her when she was getting picked up (hint-hint) while I was upstairs and they were downstairs. I have texted all my way cool young friends sending them quirky messages in "textease." Yes, folks, this dinosaur with big thumbs mastered the art of "communicating" through texting. I have also mastered the art of rude. I answered my phone right in the middle of Bible study, I interrupted my husband to receive and then send a text, I even texted at the dinner table. I was tempted, but refrained from viewing the beeping, vibrating device in my pocket while I was driving. Today, I am sending out a mass text which reads: "Peeps, I am 2 busy 2 txt u anymore. Pls b sure u rly have something important 2 say b4 u txt me :D"
U c, I am so cool, I dont need 2 txt anymore :-)

What I Did During The Snow Storm

First I took out my sewing machine and made cell phone cases. I lined each one with a thick batting to protect them. Sometimes I am so clever that I even surprise myself.

Then I went outside with my family and made Mario, the Italiano snowman. Notice his mustache and his gupalini. Again, I surprise and amuse myself.

Then I finished crocheting this baby blanket for a dear, dear couple who are expecting their first child this month. Every time I sat down to crochet I prayed over this baby and the dear couple. I began by praying for the fetal development of the baby and continued praying through all the years of this child's life. What an honor for me to pray for this little life and the family and friends who will be touched by it. The center represents the child's small and humble beginnings and the outer edges represents a life well lived, finishing strong.

Finally, the sun came out and shined into my kitchen catching the bottom of a CD, casting this beautiful rainbow along the corner of the wall.
Again, I ask you folks, how great is our God?

Today, it's back to the grind. . .

On Lunch

I had the most fabulous lunch today. It wasn't the food (though the food was excellent, I had Panko crusted eggplant, fresh spinach, roasted red peppers, basil ricotta Parmesan on toasted flatbread, topped with fresh mozzarella and drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette - yummy!) it was the company that made lunch so fabulous. I lunched with someone I haven't seen in over 20 years in a nice little restaurant outside of town. She even went so far as to say I looked exactly as I did 22 years ago - boy, oh boy, I love that woman. Are you wondering who she is? Have you guessed? It was Tina, the social worker who matched me and my little brother together all those years ago. She is the woman responsible for creating a bond between two strangers that has never been broken. It was wonderful to thank her and confirm to her that she did a great thing when she matched us as Big Sister and Little Brother. We laughed and shared stories and ate and laughed some more. My heart explodes with joy thinking of it. In the year that Tina was our social worker, I learned so much from her. She encouraged me to step outside of my comfort zone, she supported me, she signed me up for a parenting class to teach me how to best deal with my little brother, (I am still using those techniques today) and she applauded my successes. I would not be the woman nor the mother I am today if not for having known her. She was thrilled to hear about my successes as a wife, a mother and a mentor but would take no credit for it. Isn't it funny how some people will never know how much influence they bestow on others? Again, I ask, how great is our God?

Is It A Sin To Kill A Bug In Heaven?

I am a very peaceful person. That is why I was trying to peacefully co-exist with the stink bugs. But that was before I learned a little known fact about them. It's not that they stink when you kill them, but God knows they do. It's not that they fly into my food sometimes (I confessed the first time that happened . . .). It's not even that one landed in the lap of a lady who was attending my little Bible study. It's the fact that they reproduce like crazy! One stink bug lays 30 eggs! I stopped worrying about them for a short while and now my house is invaded! That's what happens, you give a stinker an inch and they take the house! I was okay with a few of those buggers in my front hall and some buzzing around the kitchen sink (I wash them down the drain but in half an hour they come crawling back up!), but not in the whole house. I'm done, or should I say they're done! I flush them down the toilet while humming taps in my head. I don't know if God will see fit to have stink bugs in Heaven, but I won't co-exist with them on Earth anymore. Maybe in Heaven God will give them a sweet aroma when you kill them and rename them perfume bugs. I wonder, is it a sin to kill a bug in Heaven?

They're Watching You

This is a story for anyone who has a mother . . . or even worse . . . a mother-in-law.

There was a family that consisted of a father, a mother, a son and a daughter. The father's mother (I'll call her Grams) became ill and needed to move in with her son's family. Grams shook and when the family ate dinner together, Grams chipped the china with her spoon. The mother gave Grams a wooden bowl at the next meal. Grams didn't chip the wooden bowl, but it made such a clatter every time her spoon hit the bowl. The mother set up a small table and chair in the pantry and Grams ate her dinner in there where she would not disturb anyone. Mother found her son in the workroom of the basement the next day whittling a block of wood. Mother asked, "Son, what are you working on?" He said, "A gift for you." "Awww," Mother said, "what for?" Her son answered her while he worked the block of wood, "For when you are old and need to live with me, I am making you a wooden bowl and you can eat in my pantry." At dinner that night, Grams sat at the head of the table using the family's best china.

There are two important points here. First, "Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you." Ex 20:12 They're not called commandments for nothing. And second, the kids - they're watching you . . .

Cupid's Arrow

I know, Valentine's Day is a corny little holiday with history in horrible pagan rituals. But, I love Valentine's Day. And there are some sweet stories about the lengths people have gone through to declare their love to that someone special and I'm a sap - what can I say? My husband took me to see my favorite performer last night for Valentine's Day. We saw Michael Amante. He sings Italian Opera. It was a wonderful concert! My husband gets double the points because 1. he got us 5th row seats, 2. even though he wanted to go out to dinner he agreed to have dinner at home so we could eat with the kids, 3. he complimented my one nice outfit that I wear whenever we go out, 4. he bought me a Bailey's Irish Cream at intermission and when I only took 3 little sips of the $7.00 drink, he only smiled when I had to throw it away before we could see the second half of the concert, and 5. because he's an all-around nice guy. I know what some of you are thinking. Y'all thinking, I should give my husband 5 times the points, not just double. But Cupid hit me in the heart with that arrow, not the head! Happy Valentine's Day dear ones!