Snake Eyes, I Lose; Lucky Seven, God Wins

So I wrote my post about a Garden... and started it overnight, like I do many of these posts. I scheduled it to post the next day, June 1, 2010.

You know, LIFE is a gamble. We roll the dice, and get surprises all the time. Having babies, finding THE ONE to spend it all with, death, taxes... all have a way of just showing up when you least expect them, and whether you want them or not.

The surprise for me for June 1 was that my Dad died.

Yes, four months after my Mom passed away.

Yes, I was, to say the least, devastated.

I am still fighting the depression. I am still struggling to understand it all. I am not in a good place these days. But... I went back and read the entry after Mom died. I really do know who my friends are. I really know they are still around. I really know that I have no clue what life will bring next, tomorrow, or eventually.

I really know that my parents were certain that I was going to be OK. Maybe not today, probably not tomorrow, but soon enough, and for a long time. They raised me to be strong, self-sufficient, and persevering. They raised me to care, so they knew this would not be easy.

Dad died of Stage 4 Renal (Kidney) Cancer... and heart failure due to the fluid building up around his heart and lungs. That fluid was more cancer, trying to take over. When they found him, collapsed in the hospital room, they tried to revive him. Three doctors tried CPR. His body had given up the fight... and I am pretty certain his spirit had lost the will to live. His "fight" died with Mom. Sis said that when she and Bro went to go identify his body (uh, really?), that he had a smile on his face... an amazingly happy smile, that they had not seen in months. I think he knew where he was going, and that Mom was waiting there for him.

I never had any doubt that if there is a heaven (like I believe there is) and if any human has any chance of going there (I believe that Jesus gives us that chance), then my parents were going there. Others have told me they thought the same. My parents believed, and used every moment to live out that belief. They shared their meager blessings with any in need, even when it meant not eating as much for dinner that night. Dad fixed stuff. He tinkered around and found new life in things like cars, refrigerators and washing machines. Mom taught children for many years, and only retired when her lack of health forced her to. They showed Jesus to everyone they came in contact with. Their lives were bold and unashamed, yet simple and sparing.

We had a Memorial Service for Dad on June 26. I made it very clear to the officiant that there was to be no preaching. Mom's memorial was too "come to Jesus" for my taste. I don't think she wanted a church service, she would have preferred a good old-fashioned "singing". So we modified Dad's service to be more fun, more stories about him, and less "churchy". There were scriptures read, and there were a few preachy thoughts, but they were balanced, and not a "final call" for those in attendance. It made his brother laugh, which made me very happy.

Dad was a simple man, but never stupid. He learned all he could about everything. He knew amazing amounts of trivia, but could still talk to a child. He knew much about the Bible and the church, and could discuss the most in-depth meat-and-potatoes subjects, but he also knew the milk basics. He had very little tolerance for the milquetoast mediocrity that so many people have these days. He had an amazing vocabulary, and often used my spelling words within a week of my getting them when I was a child. I learned from him, and not from school or even Sunday School, the meanings of words like "usurp", "delineate" and "propitiation".

Dad used his knowledge of the medical field, that he gained in Vietnam, to help Mom. When she had toes removed, he learned how to dress her wounds. This meant that the nurse, who would have to visit other patients on a daily basis, could come just once a week to clean and measure and check the wounds. Dad was always very careful with Mom, and precise about her medications. He built his own graph to track her blood sugar and pressure levels, and what medicines he gave her.

I knew my Dad had preached a few times. He had notes from several of those lessons. I suppose I could ask the church for recordings, if I got brave enough to listen to them. One of the note papers had a kite design on the back. Dad was always doodling. He enjoyed kites, and designed his own box kite. He was pretty impressed with himself, until he found a book with a picture of his kite on the front of it. He hadn't known that others had designed this style of kite before him.

He also designed and printed his own targets for his shooting. Dad was an excellent marksman, and was always learning more about being a gunsmith. His hobby was to buy old military surplus, or antiques, and shine them up, and reload ammo for them. He had black powder rifles, and BB guns. He had rubber-band repeat shooters, and dart guns and even a crossbow. He built his own stocks for barrels he had, and taught my Bro and me how to use, clean and respect firearms. He was mindful of the Second Amendment to the Constitution, and how it protected the First.

Mom had never met a stranger, they were all just friends she was not yet acquainted with. Dad had never enjoyed crowds, but tolerated them for Mom's sake. After she died, he was very quick to say, "I am done now. Goodnight." and leave. Abruptly. And I think that is how he ended his life, as well.

Bro and I followed through with Dad's wishes to be cremated, like Mom was. We decided that we never thought of them as separate, but together. Their marriage really was a unity. So, we had their ashes mixed together, and then split in half, so each of us could do what we wished with the remains. My portion of Mom and Dad still sit in the box in the pretty felt bag I got from the funeral home in NM. Sis bought a beautiful box to put the remains in... and I will move them... eventually. I have offered part of my half to Mom's two sisters, if they wish to scatter some of the ashes in some special place that means something to them.

All in all, this year has been horrible. And wonderful. Yes, I lost both my parents, rather unexpectedly. But I have found parts of myself that had formerly lay dormant inside. I am much stronger than I ever thought I could be. I have positive outlooks where once only depression lived. I have deeper friendships, and pals who are closer now. I have recently come out of the fog.

The sunshine hurts my eyes, but my skin is soaking up the vitamins. The important things and people in my life are more precious. The less important and downright unnecessary are gradually removing themselves from my space. I can move now (I joined Curves with a friend to add motion to my weeks), where all I did for months was sit and stew in my misery. I can breathe. There is still a weight on my shoulders, but it gets easier to lift every day.

It isn't easy. Mother's Day and Mom's Birthday (she would have been 65) came and went, and I was a mess. Father's Day and my parents' Anniversary (this would have been 40 years) came and went, and I pretended I wasn't a mess. But I was. I still have to face Dad's Birthday (he was going to be 63 this year), and hear all the comments about how I am "too young to face this". I have to think that they died too young, but they had full, rich lives filled with faith, family, and fun. I know people who lost their parents when they were teens... THAT is too young. I don't feel too young at 36. I wasn't ready, but I don't know that anyone can be really ready for this.

My big "regret", if I ever were to hold those, is that I never got the opportunity to give them grandchildren. Infertility sucks when you desperately want a child. Mom had pretty much decided that she would never get any grandchildren. I don't know which hurt more, knowing I couldn't give her what she wanted, or that she had resigned the wanting. Either way, if I ever do have any children now, they will never get to know my parents. And that will be a deficit for my kids, because my parents were awesome people.

From the day they met to the day they married: 4 months.
From the day she died to the day he died: 4 months.

I really believe this is no accident.

This weekend is one year since I squashed grapes, and blogged about it. I believe that it is no accident that I should feel the need to blog now. I got a bottle of the Chateau L'Feet, and pondered the spiritual applications of wine. I was thinking about God, and what it meant to share these thoughts with you. And I think that maybe this blogging thing can come back to me. Slowly. Don't go expecting a new entry every day, or even every week. But please keep checking in on me. I am working on making my life as much of a testimony as my parents gave.

My friend Laura Speaker shared that her family philosophy about death is this: When we go to the garden and pick flowers for our table, we pick the most beautiful, the most vibrant flowers. The ones that end up as our centerpiece are at their peak of bloom, color and scent. Why do we expect God to do any less? The best, brightest and most beautiful flowers in His creation are the ones he picks to come home first. They get to set the table for the rest of us. That table is going to be the most welcoming thing about Heaven.

When I go, I want to have a smile on my face in the last moments. I want people to sing a few songs, bring a few flowers and remember that I tried.

Oh, and make sure to pour a glass of wine. Cheers!

Chateau L'Feet, Vintage 2009, Baby Toes. White Wine. "And I helped!"

Last year, I went to Tres Suenos Winery, and harvested and stomped grapes. This weekend, I got the bottle of that wine.

They call it Chateau L'Feet. Yes, we stomped a few gallons of grapes in the bottom of a 50 gallon drum. I call it Baby Toes, because of a little boy, who was fine stomping, until he realized that he was IN a 50 gallon drum. And it was taller than he was, and he couldn't see anything but grapes and mommy's knees. He started screaming, so they took him out of the drum. He stomped all the way up the side, still having fun, I think, but just a little scared with claustrophobia in the drum. Who can blame his cute little toes? Not me.

"You aren't gonna drink that, are you?" several people asked. Some of them were grossed out by the thought, as if the fact that my feet, and the feet of many others touched those grapes, and it might taste of feet. Some of them were sounding wistful, as if they would take it and drink it if I didn't want it. The idea is the same. Did I have plans to just let the bottle sit some more, or was I planning to drink it?

I honestly don't know yet. I was planning on drinking it. The BOTTLE is what is important to me. The label has MY NAME on it. This wine was helped by ME, and the bottle was labeled just for ME. The bottle will end up as a centerpiece on a shelf of my bottle collection. I think it would be a dirty shame NOT to drink the wine I helped create. A full bottle of wine is heavy, and the shelf will be heavy enough with all those glass bottles on it.

I pondered God last year, about vines and the vinedresser, and the harvest and how it all was used as a "flannelgram" to teach the church about God's care for His people. This year, I ponder the wine. The waiting. The Becoming.

I wonder how wine was made in Bible times. Didn't they generally squish the grapes by walking in them? Doesn't the age and the fermentation take care of whatever icky stuff was hanging on? Basically, the fact that it is alcohol should kill any germs from any feet in the grapes, right?

When Jesus turned water into wine, I have to believe it was good stuff. The host of the party said it was good, and he wondered why the best stuff was saved for the end of the party. Seems they usually served good stuff to get you happily drunk, and then switched to the cheap stuff, because after you are drunk, you really don't care what you drink, as long as the glasses keep getting filled. Having never been drunk, I have no idea if this is so. I just know what I like, and usually wine isn't it.

The winemakers are a family of God-believing people. They are genuinely nice. They treat their growers with courtesy and respect. They follow the laws of the land, and check the I.D.'s provided by their visitors. They have a fair business, and they make impressive wines, award winning wines. I didn't realize how much I liked sweet wines until I tasted the dry wines they offer. (Ugh. Dry is just too tart for me.) And I didn't ever think I would have a "favorite" wine, knowing how much I detest grape juice in general. Some days, getting through communion on Sunday is tough. And that is one thimble full of Welch's 100% Grape. Usually purple, Concord grape juice. And more often than not, on the verge of being wine (or maybe vinegar is a closer description). Yuck.

Whenever this might happen, I do plan to drink the wine. I might even share a little with Jeff, if he is brave enough to try it. The empty bottle will be my prize. I missed this year, because I checked into it too late. Next year, I plan to do this at least once, maybe twice. I plan to get more bottles of Chateau L'Feet, maybe in RED next time!

This year has been a crazy, tumultuous, lost and even blessed sort of year. All this time, that wine was in a cask, and then in the bottle. Sitting. Waiting. Fermenting. Becoming.

How can it be good if I do not taste it? Consuming the wine seems to be the POINT of it all.

I think this year has been some fire, refining me like gold. This year has not been the calm waiting on God, like the wine. Maybe the coming year will be calm, like the fermentation hold. But then, fermenting is a process, and I bet the chemical transformation is anything but calm. Maybe I HAVE been the wine. I have gone through a transformation, and I will never be the same. A little more tart, a little more rich, a little more depth to my "character". A little fruity note, a little spicy note... some time spent in the cool of the cask, some time squeezed into the smaller space of a bottle.

All the while wondering... Who will find me? Who will taste, and see that the Lord is good? Who will appreciate my more subtle qualities? Will I be the bottle that has had feet in it? (I certainly felt stomped this year!) Has this process cleansed my impurities? Am I sweeter for the time spent, or am I a dry finish?

I don't know all the answers. I know the ONE who holds the answers, and He hasn't really been sharing them with me. I guess I get to do what my Dad always told me to do: Hide and Watch. So, I hide in the shadow of the wings of the Most High, and I watch to see what becomes of me. I am fermenting. I am being enriched by the waiting. I am Becoming a fine wine from the Lord's vineyard.

How SWEET its that?

Top Reasons I Won't Have A Credit Card

This is a news article I saw on my local television affiliate.
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NH man swipes debit card for smokes, charged 23 quadrillion dollars (plus $15 overdraft fee)

By Associated Press

9:05 AM CDT, July 15, 2009
MANCHESTER, N.H. (AP) — A New Hampshire man says he swiped his debit card at a gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes and was charged over 23 quadrillion dollars.

Josh Muszynski (Moo-SIN'-ski) checked his account online a few hours later and saw the 17-digit number — a stunning $23,148,855,308,184,500 (twenty-three quadrillion, one hundred forty-eight trillion, eight hundred fifty-five billion, three hundred eight million, one hundred eighty-four thousand, five hundred dollars).

Muszynski says he spent two hours on the phone with Bank of America trying to sort out the string of numbers and the $15 overdraft fee.

The bank corrected the error the next day.

Bank of America tells WMUR-TV only the card issuer, Visa, could answer questions. Visa, in turn, referred questions to the bank.
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Information from: WMUR-TV, http://wmur.com
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Thursday Thirteen
"Reasons I Won't Have A Credit Card" and "Why I Think This Is Funny"

1. This was a DEBIT card, so I am still at risk.

2. 1% of this bill is more than four times the National Debt. (To copy the media, "That is QUADRILLION, with a Q!" Imagine the perky blonde anchor making you feel stupid, because you couldn't have heard it the first time.) I can live happily on that kind of money. The bank can never have enough.

3. Bank of America, the man's personal bank, is the bank known to give accounts to Undocumented Illegal Immigrants... I suppose they have to make up for that in some small fashion. I hope they don't think this is SMALL fashion.

4. I am sure that the numbers are meaningless..... no SSN or PIN in there. (Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!)

5. One of my friends on Facebook commented that the average daily balance would yield an interest charge that could be "ugly". They are allowed to be around 30%, especially if you are overdrawn.

6. How many people didn't get charged for their transactions that day, due to the keying error? I wouldn't want to be that person!

7. Cash Is King! Check out Dave Ramsey, and learn to survive without plastic. This is not a paid advertisement, just a personal testimony. I am not completely debt free, but imagine that as a goal! Now imagine that as a lifestyle!

8. I know that smoking kills you, but I thought it was for actually smoking! I am excited knowing that the guy is still alive after the SHOCK of seeing that bill.

9. Jesus said that our hearts are tied to our treasures. Junk purchased with plastic and debt are not treasures, but our hearts sit there with it anyway.

10. Nothing in the world like the Bank of America and Visa pointing fingers at each other. Poor guy had that balance on his personal checking account for a whole day, and nobody wanted to help him fix the problem.

11. The banks don't keep records better than I do. They can't! I am a perfectionist about accounting. I can't afford to let a penny slip by unaccounted for. I can't afford to write off mistakes. I can count!

12. Banks are really good at sticking you with fees when you really do overdraw... by a penny or two. Shouldn't they PAY you when the mistake is THEIRS?

13. Even Bakers know how to give a little extra to get a lot of loyalty. Banks could learn from this generous practice.

Blessings to you, more than money.

There Ain't No Doubt, I LOVE this Land! God BLESS The U.S.A. !!!

I enjoy Facebook. There are so many people to connect to. Friends from such a distant past, I have almost forgotten. Most people don't realize that I have a pretty good memory for names and faces. More specially for those who made an impact on my life. Apparently, I have made those kinds of impacts on the lives of others, when I was unaware.

I am finding people that I knew in High School (and before), but I thought they didn't like me. It was not like we were ever best buds. I kept up with the best buds. It occurred to me at my 10 year reunion, and I shared with my husband, that it hadn't yet been long enough. Some of the people I didn't like during High School were still the same, and that was immature. I said maybe they would really grow up by the 20th. Here we are just past 17, and the people I am connecting with (not all of these were unlikeable in the past, mind you) are more mature, more friendly and more sure of themselves.

Maybe that was the problem. We didn't like ourselves, so we projected that hate onto others, to give ourselves someone to blame. I know I did some of that. I know also that I can't be friends with everyone... but I can be a better friend to the ones who allow me into their circles.

People are surprising. This is why I watch them so much. Age, experience and having children gives one a new sense of self. When you stretch to let another person into your sphere, you can't help but grow. I have grown (physically, too...ugh) since I was young. I thought I knew it all.... now I know simply that I can never know it all.

I can't fathom why I thought people didn't like me. I never gave them a chance to speak for or against me. I still don't understand all of why I didn't like some others. I am amazed at the good memories that my friends-again have kept of me. I hope that I never take the olive branch of friendship for granted again. I beg myself to offer that same olive branch to another... and another... and another... without fear.

If you are my Blogger friend, or my Facebook friend, please know that I appreciate every one of you. You keep my world interesting and refreshing. I may do what my friend Jon did... Thanks-giving notes... to each and every friend. I can't do the video posts like he did, but I can try to see things from another perspective. I see that I need to focus on others for a change, not on me Me ME all the time.

Again I see that I complain so much. Why? God has provided a roof over my head, two and half years of allowing me to not work for "the MAN", and given me the biggest blessings, many of which I didn't know I needed! I need to focus on the happy, uplifting and joyful things in life.

This weekend, I get to spend our Nation's Independence Day with family, friends, food and fireworks. What could be better?

Happy Birthday, AMERICA!!!

Death, Life And A Little Bit Of Mediocrity

It has been a bad week to be famous.
A bad month (two), really.
There have been so many celebrities who have passed away recently:

Wayman Tisdale, 44. NBA star, and University of Oklahoma player before that. I hear he was an excellent musician.

Wayne Allwine, 62. The voice of Mickey Mouse for (very close to) my entire lifetime. His wife has been the voice of Minnie Mouse, too.

Millvina Dean, 97. The last survivor of the Titanic, she was just a baby in April 1912.

David Carradine, 72.

Ed McMahon, 86.

Farrah Fawcett, 62.

Michael Jackson, 50.

Gale Storm, 87. (I had to look her up, I am too young.)

Billy Mays, 50.

We joke that things come in threes. This is three sets of three. And this is not the definitive list, there have been other celebrity deaths since May. I am not going to make any pithy jokes today. The world has lost a lot of great talents recently. My childhood has taken a pretty hard hit.

On a more personal note, I found out this weekend that my Uncle has been diagnosed with prostate cancer. They caught it early, and it is a very treatable kind of cancer. He lives near and is familiar with M.D. Anderson, and my Aunt is a nurse. My mind keeps going back to Esther in the Bible... "for such a time as this". I know that God has prepared them for this trial. I would appreciate prayer on behalf of my family.

I hosted a baby shower on Saturday. My friend Ferret came with her family to be showered with gifts... from Kansas. And we had a friend drive up from Dallas. Yes, if you do the math... she drove 4 hours each way to spend only 2 hours with us! We have dedicated friends. The new house is not clean, but things are strategically stacked. I have several weeks to get ready for the housewarming that the wonderful ladies at church are going to give us.

I have noticed that I complain a lot. I am sorry for that. Of what use is complaining? I am blessed. I have a roof over my head, I don't owe money each month to a landlord anymore. I have two cars, two cats, two bedrooms. I have food in the kitchen, and energy to cook it. I have a full sized washer and dryer. I have so much to be happy about, yet I allow myself to be convinced that I am not worthy, or appreciative. Satan sneaks in and lies to me, and I allow those lies to take over my attitude. That is such a sorry existence. I need to be reminded (as often as the Jews in the Bible, it seems) that God is always here, and that He continually provides me with everything I could want and more.

Thank someone today!

I'm Not A Tool... I'm An Instrument!

I interrupt myself in the posts about Vegas to bring you a very good thought. My friend Rick Rossing penned this ponder on his Facebook account, and I got permission to reprint it. I did a copy/paste, and didn't change a thing, title and all.

Enjoy!
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During a Bible class, we were reading the passage in Acts 9:15 where Jesus says that Paul is his chosen instrument, and someone commented that Paul was a tool. I didn't like the concept, and I've been mulling it over ever since.

It is never a compliment to be called a tool, at least not in my experience. A tool is a person who is useful enough at what he does, but is only being used. He might not even be aware that he is not admired so much as tolerated. Like a hammer, he's used for whatever task he's needed for, then tossed carelessly back into the box with all the other tools. Tools are not generally loved, and they are easily replaced.

But an instrument is far more special! The word conjures up to me the image of a saxophone or clarinet, or a finely honed surgical scalpel. A saxophone is comprised of many intricate valves and parts that are precisely joined together and tuned to produce sweet music. An instrument is specially designed for its purpose, painstakingly and even lovingly. It is not easy to replace an instrument. The one who uses the instrument cares for and even loves it. When not in use, the instrument is carefully placed in a location prepared for it to keep it safe.

The God who created Paul and used him also formed him and loved him. The same God created me and uses me, but God also forms me and loves me. I am beautifully and wonderfully made, because I am loved.

We are His workmanship, created for good works.

I'm no tool... I'm an instrument. So are you.

The Dream Is Still Alive

I was ignoring the television, playing on the computer a moment ago... and heard something that made me blink. Because of the news coverage at noon, I have had a few small epiphanies in the past few minutes.

1. Today is the Observance of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (MLK) Day. (DH doesn't have the day off, and since I don't work, I no longer keep up with such things.)

2. The famous "I Have A Dream" speech was made 45 years ago.

3. Tomorrow, we are inaugurating the first black President.

4. The "Dream" is realized, in part.

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Also on the news today at noon, Heinz is removing the pickle from its label, replacing it with a tomato. The anchor said she thought this change made sense. I think, Why? The idea of ketchup is a tomato, pickled in vinegar... right?

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I think too much about nothing worth dwelling on.

Have a good day!

A Full Plate

I often have to tell the tale of the origin of the nickname. Explaining CHELF gets my readers a little bit closer to the CHELF SPACE headline here. I think I have explained some before... but for those of you who may have forgotten, and those who have not read from the beginning, let me tell the story once more. (Oh, yeah, like I don't like talking about this!)

When I was in High School (and early in my Junior College days) I did babysitting to supplement my income from my first job. My favorite charge was a little girl named Amber. Now, Amber was VERY smart. Quick. Not just a kid who talked early, but one who comprehended more deeply at a younger age than other children around. Logic was obvious in her little two year old brain.

Our story begins with Amber being my rag doll. I carried that child all over our church building. Her mom would play "Who's Got You?" with her when she was with someone else. One day, I was holding Amber, and Mommy asked "Who's got you?"

Amber had made a point to try to say my name. Michelle is actually almost as hard as saying J names... it is long, and has a difficult transition in the middle. I had decided that maybe using the nickname I used in High School might work easier, Chelle. Just say Michelle and take out the MI. Chelle, like a sea Shell. Amber had decided somehow that my name needed an F on the end. It sounded better to her. It seemed to flow off her tongue. Chelf. With this in mind, I will tell you now that this time she answered with a huge sigh and a big hug around my neck, and she told her mom, "MY Chelf!"

I don't know when the idea really came to me, but I know that I chose to spell the nickname the way I do in order to put it on a license plate some day. When DH bought his little red hatchback, before we were married, I informed him of my dream. The very first all MY NEW CAR needed to have a special license plate that would say... you guessed it! MYCHELF!

This week, my dream was realized.



Now I think about Hammy the Squirrel in Over The Hedge: "Kinda anti-climactic."

I have been wanting not only the tag but the new car to put it on for more than 16 years. Amber is now in her Freshman year in college someplace. (I hear she graduated with honors near the tippy top of her class.) I have been working and saving and thinking toward this goal for a very long time. I haven't had my husband as long as I have sheltered this dream.

So, I had to share my joy today! This is a cliche', a dream come true. With pictures! Thank you for sharing in this silly joy of mine.

Belated Welcome To 2009

I have not gotten very good at updating.

I went back and read the first entry of 2008. It has been a year of changes, a year of ups and downs. A year of abundance. So, I decided to put down some new goals. I need accountability buddies this year! Volunteers need to state their intentions in the comments. Please?

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Last year: Each year, I resolve to be more organized. It lasts anywhere from two days to three months, depending on the specific exercise I am thinking about.

This year: I am thinking actually about exercise. I have joined a gym with my DH, and we are going to work out and swim together this year. His membership was paid by his boss, and mine was a discount addition to it. I am looking forward to slimming down, but getting healthy is way more important than the numbers on the clothes or off the scale. I want to be able to walk up a flight of stairs and not be breathless at the top. This is costing money, so it is more important to me. It hurts if I don't use it, for the value. I hope to keep using this.
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Last year: I also get my book list started each New Year's weekend....I would like to read through the complete Bible this year.

This year: I want to sell the books and movies that I want to weed out of our collection. I want to remove any media with cursing in it, or immoral situations that are overt and grotesque. (Easier said than done, because of some of our favorites have lots of language.) I have 17 versions of the Bible, and I am planning on studying more than reading.
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Last year: This year, I have also resolved to get the house clean. Cleaner. To work on cleaning the house more often. Yeah.

This year: I wish to clear the clutter. Keeping the dishes done, and staying on top of the mountains of laundry seems overrated. But if I clear out the stuff I don't use, maybe I can keep the space more clean.
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Last year: ...I resolve to blog more. I have been leaving this poor pet alone for a week at a time, and that is just not friendly.

This year: Same song, next verse. I already promised to work on this again. Much like organizing and exercising, I can do this. But keeping up with it after about May is tough. It shouldn't be... this is a way to share with YOU, my friends.
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Last year: I don't usually like to "resolve" anything; other than fights, anyway.

This year: I have always made a point to NOT make resolutions. I think that serves governments better than individuals. I prefer this year to simply BE resolute.
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Have a great 2009!
God Bless You.

The Winds And The Waves

I have to admit that Facebook has taken way too much of my time lately. I love talking, and the chat function allows me to chat with people in other states and even other countries, with no extra programs on my computer. Unfortunately for you, I have rather ignored my blog. I never run out of things to talk about, but to write it all down takes a long time for me. I do a lot of self-editing. There are drafts that you have never seen, because I used Blogger to clear my mind, not to write for publication.

I am catching up with so many people that I had lost touch with. Honestly, I was thinking about not trying to find friends from High School, because I kept up with the two or three people who really meant something to me. The rest were... stuck in the yearbooks. But then a few of my old friends found me. It just goes to show that I cannot, should not, make assumptions about my former life.

I have a host of excuses, and none of them says why I am in a funk. I don't really know myself. I just know that I am hoping to make the next year a little more interesting and a lot less sporadic. Some Word of the Posts, some pictures, not so many monologues of craziness.

Do you make resolutions? I have always made a point to NOT make resolutions. I think that serves governments better than individuals. I prefer this year to simply BE resolute. I want to do things with intention. I want to make my time on the internet productive and useful... even profitable, if I can. I want to spend more time in God's Word. I want to read more and watch TV less. I want to move more. I want to spend time in true, meaningful meditation. I want to do more with less.

I want others to know that I serve God, and Jesus is my savior. I want them to know the joy that has brought to my life, not the misery that I have put upon my own shoulders. I want to learn about faith and other things in life from my cats. I want to share what I learn with you. I want to learn from each of you.

As 2008 slows to a halt, and 2009 winds up in preparation to fly, I wish for you the Peace that passes all understanding. We may not live in a peaceful world, but His Peace will calm us in the eye of the storm. Please enjoy this song by Scott Krippayne. (I found a fan video on You Tube.)



P.S. Marvel is snoring. Have you ever heard a cat snore?

The Results Are In

Months ago, I got a new car. Brand new off the lot with less than 30 miles on it. Amazing as this is to me, I really love it. This new car is the blessing I knew it would be, and has been even better than I thought.

The question was this: In a car, is it really better to get 100% Whole Gas, or is the Ethanol Mix Gas better? We decided to test this. What better way than to test a NEW car? I should know this, so I can use the better option.

I decided that one tank of each would not be fair. They could mix and affect the results of each other. One tank of 100% Gas could be used to go to see the in-laws, the next tank of Ethanol Mix could be used only to drive to DH's work, and that would falsely change the results, as well. According to DH, the idea was to get the tank as low as possible (safely, of course) and then fill the tank with 100% Gas. Has something to do with the fumes that Ethanol causes in the tank. We emptied the car (driving for no reason to distant parts of our fair city), and filled with 100% Gas, and did so for at least 4 tank fills.

I kept careful notes. I figured the mileage for each tank, and figured the cost difference and the distance from my home to get to the 100% Gas. I also averaged all four tanks. I calculated Value.

Then, I switched. We were gone on a trip, and could not find 100% Gas. We might have used it, but we can't know. In Oklahoma, it is law to post on each pump a sticker that says if there is any Ethanol in the mix. Texas has no such laws. I wonder if that is law anywhere else? We then purposely used the 10% Ethanol mix for four tanks.

Again, I kept careful notes. I kept a record of the cost that would have been for a tank of 100% Gas every time I filled the tank with 10% Ethanol mix. I again averaged, and calculated Value.

Today, you get to hear the results.

I found that, in our New Honda Fit, it was actually better to use the....

10% Ethanol Mix Gas.

Yep. The cheap stuff is better. In my calculations. For my new car.

This may surprise many of you. It certainly surprised me. I thought that it would be the other way around. And it wasn't just the mileage. It was the cost, the distance to get the 100% stuff, and it was the fact that newer engines are built to handle the mixture better these days. I even found that one of the 100% stores did not have pay at the pump capabilities... so it was not convenient. How can that be more efficient?

I would say that an older car was built before the Ethanol was actively being added in would run more efficiently on 100% gas. This is my opinion, based on my own observation and testing of my own vehicles, not a fact studied by a group of influential people. Just saying.

So, there you have it. If you have an older car, I would say test it for yourself. Make sure to take into account the distance, cost, efficiency and even your own driving habits. Pay attention to your inflation of tires (it won't cure "global warming", but it will effect your individual mileage) and notice the time you spend sitting in traffic. It all works together.

Have a great week, and I will see you later!

Discount Spelling Causes Business Laughs Galore

Word of the Post
Today's word is: palindrome
/pal"in*drome/ noun
The word literally means to run back again. This is the term for a word or phrase that is the same both forward and backward. Examples: Hannah, lol, madam. Go check out Weird Al Yankovic's song called BOB. The whole of the lyrics are palindromes.
~~~~~~~~~~
I just want to say that I have not forgotten my blog. I have not forgotten any of my diligent readers. I have taken pictures, so this should make up for the lack of words, right?

This is a local Discount Tire store that recently opened. They need a new sign painter, can you tell me why?

This is the first Cat Scan of the cool box we got from Flea. Marvel is soft and sweet, and curious to know what was in the box. I think the package passed the scan.

This was the Second Opinion. Mystic is very good at knowing when something is not for her, and getting into it anyway. By now, the box has been opened, emptied, and still passed the thorough scan.

The mug came! DH was so excited! He is the one who won the contest for her picture, and he chose to get a mug (the other choice was a t-shirt) with his own caption. Would this qualify Fred and Bessie as LOLCows? (As opposed to LOLCats with their own website.)

The caption that won the day and the mug! I still have yet to see DH use his mug, but it has been washed and is now waiting for his hot cocoa. We need cooler weather so he can be happy to drink hot cocoa.

Not to gross you out or anything, but this was my work today. We had a wooden seat that was old, and cracked and needed to be changed. This job took me almost an hour and a half. The removal of the old took FOREVER! The cleaning up and attachment of the new (pictured here) took less than ten minutes. Yeah, I took a shower after this, because... eew.

There are these pretty flowers that grow in the summer at my house. There were once daffodil bulbs in the little flower patch by the porch. I don't even know what this stuff is, but it is brilliantly pink, and there is just one localized patch of them. I have several pictures of them. I also had the mosquito bites to prove that I was outside in the cool, cool, cool of the evening for more that two seconds.

THIS is the oddest picture I think I shall ever see. This is a marching band, in the shape of the State of Oklahoma (it is upside down from his nosebleed seat).

This was taken by MY DH, at the Oklahoma State vs. Troy football game this past Saturday. Now, anyone who knows my DH knows that he is an OU (University of Oklahoma) fan, and that naturally means he is not an OSU fan. But when you get free tickets handed to you, you take them, no matter what team you watch.

DH's friend from his Friday Night Finals job had an extra ticket, and offered to take DH to the game. DH was a good boy, and didn't wear OU stuff to an OSU game. He went because I said he could, and because he loves college football. He had a blast, and both Oklahoma teams won against past troubles. All in all, it was a good night. I was surprised he wanted to go.

This is my friend Pam and her daughter Tulle, playing the "Beating Nemo" game at a gathering after a church service. The tail gave way long before the rest of the fish gave up its candy. Tulla is a cutie, and when everyone had gotten their fill of destroying the pinata, DH was standing nearby while Pam and Tulle and I were cleaning candy off the ground. She didn't say anything to him, but she went and got his hand, and brought him over to "help" pick up the candy. We all got a good laugh out of it. Pam said that DH had been told, and that he was expected to help. He stopped helping when Tulle went back inside... the ground is a long way down from 6 ft up.

"He touched the butt!" This is the punishment for being Nemo. He pooped Tootsie Rolls. It was way more violent than a church group should have had so much fun with.

This is my MIL petting the biggest dog I have seen in a long time. A few weeks ago, we went to DH's Great Uncle's funeral in TX. This was Great Uncle's dog, Klondike. Gentle Giant of a dog, sweet and friendly, and just looking for someone to scritch his ears.

He was as big as half the couch. He is getting old, too. It took a lot to get up from the floor when he laid down... and he laid down right in the middle of the room several times. There were so many of us in the house, poor Klondike was always in the way. What would you do for a Klondike dog? I did a lot of ear scritching. And I nearly lost a leg when he sat on me! I was originally in that seat he is blocking, and my circulation was cut off. DH said once that he could eat our two cats, and nobody would notice. (Of course the cats would notice, and I would notice them missing!)

Tomorrow, if not before, one of my friends is having her third baby. She is scheduled for a C-section tomorrow morning, really early. I am going to help her dad with babysitting her twins while she is early in the hospital. Yep, you read that right. She has twin boys, and is having another boy with this delivery. Did I mention that the twins are barely over a year old? No? Oh, well that seemed important. The boys are so cute, and another will only be more cuteness in the world. Her husband works so hard, and at last news to me, was looking for another job.

I need to go shopping. If it were only for shoes and hair bands, it would be fun, but this is for staples. Not the kind that go into paper, the kind that are required shopping list items.

Enjoy your adventures this week!

Veni, Vidi, Venti

Word of the Post
Today's word is: tschotschke
/chach"keh/ noun
From Merriam-Webster online at http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/tchotchke
Yiddish for trinket, from obsolete Polish czaczko. Useless bauble, pretty but trivial. Cheap gewgaw.
When I got married, my friend told me she wanted to get me something useful, not some tschotschke that would be gathering dust on a shelf I didn't have.
~~~~~~~~~~~
First of all, thank you all. For caring about me, and really paying attention to my blabbering. It is refreshing and very important to me.

For those of you sweet enough to suggest that Mom find a new doctor, I regret to inform you that Farmington, New Mexico isn't the biggest town, and no, there is no other specialist that she can see there. To get another requires a different city. Albuquerque is probably the biggest and nearest option, but that would require a lot of driving that she can't do, or moving the household that Dad can't do for another 4 years (when he can collect the retirement money he has worked so hard to earn!). I do have my buddy, Stacey, who offered to be the bully in my place. I may have to talk to her about that. You would think that I knew enough nurses in Farmington, I could find one to really help my mom. I wish that her insurance would still pay for the Home Health Nurse that was coming to clean her foot once a week. She was friendly, and offered to draw blood for mom's labs the day before a doctor visit, and was just so helpful. She called herself a "mosquito" compared to the "vampires" at the clinics.

It isn't really that Mom is getting deficient care. She has been sufficiently cared for when she sees the doctors, and when she has been in the hospital. It is that she is not receiving information up front. She has to find out about available information from other sources, and beg the doctors' offices for it. Free information that could help her understand what is going on with her kidneys, and what it means to be on dialysis for the rest of her life, what is involved with getting a new kidney by transplant. Information that I have come to feel that they should be giving her. She has been frustrated not to receive it until (in some cases after) it was vital to her treatment.

If this was some unknown virus or rare disease, I could see the doctors not sharing information, because they may not know it. In the case of a normal diabetic woman having a normal kidney failure, I am infuriated that they have not told her more, as far back as 10 years ago. She has been in the hospital several times in the past five years or so, and more than once, they feared for her life. They (the hospital staff) didn't recommend to my Dad and Bro that they call me. They (again, the hospital staff) never tried to contact me. Bro usually called, wanting me to know, and knowing that Dad may not need to be the one calling me because he was caring for his wife. At the same time, they (Bro and Dad) always told me not to come yet. I guess they wanted to save me a trip when I could do nothing to improve the situation. That excuse won't last forever.

Flea, I have to tell you, I had nothing personal against the little opossum. He/she was just another thing that ran away from the light. I don't set out to destroy anything. Stuff like spiders, ants, mosquitoes, June bugs and other flying insects or creepy crawlies have to invade my space first, and by doing so, invite Death to the party. Although I would be the first to shoot a squirrel if I could get away with it within City limits. They have put holes in my roof which became holes in my ceiling. I would love to pelt them all (That is funny, pelt. That is what DH and I say about dead things in the road...we call them all pelts. Um... I guess the pun was intended.) with paint balls or pellets. I would have the dogs in the neighboring yards cheering me on.

Instead of Complaining, I need a really big Smooffee.

Beware Of Splinters

Word of the Post
Today's word is: dichotomy
/die*cot"o*me/ noun
To cut in two; a division in equal parts; duality; ambivalence.
Knowing the selfish way and the ideal way, but having a balanced argument within yourself to decide which to follow. The brain is comprised of a dichotomy of left and right. Equal and opposite.
The trouble with a dichotomy is that riding the fence is also a decision.
~~~~~~~~~~
I have always known I would have many, many children. They don't have to be physically mine to be "my babies". My plan was to have my own boy and girl, in that order, and then adopt as many as God brought to me. My friend Rob once told me that I was destined to have a girl and then twin boys, for patience. (Cursed sounded more like it back then.) I have since learned that the twin boys did not have to be mine, either. The patience that was built in me may have been for their mother.

Oddly, my dream the other night brought this freshly to mind. The dream was that I had to deal with a specific and unpleasant person from my past. I felt attacked and beaten when I awoke on Sunday. I certainly wasn't prepared to run headlong into a difficult person at church services. (Not the same one I dreamed about, though.)

There are those people who, when given the opportunity to be sweet, will usually choose to be salt in your open wounds. The busybody person who starts every conversation with an offensive question. It makes me wonder why. Does she feel trapped by her responsibilities, and jealous of my freedoms?

Oh, the sarcasm jumps out of me, usually at the worst possible times. It takes a lot of control to keep the words from falling out of me. Every meeting starts with the intrusive "I don't mean to be nosy, but when are you going to have kids?" (If you don't want to be nosy, then please do not finish that thought.), the rude "Don't take this the wrong way, but you need to have children to know about this subject" (Taking those rude statements the wrong way is taking them in what way exactly? How can I take it well to hear that motherhood is some elitist club that refuses to even talk to me?), or my personal favorite "Why didn't you come to Bunco? It wasn't someone in particular, was it? It wasn't me, was it?". (I didn't come to Bunco because it is not the escape I was hoping for. I couldn't escape from you.) I want to scream at her. I can't say these things I think. Too rude, uncalled for. Snappy, but not Christlike.

She now lives in another city. When we see each other, our conversations now consist of the basic "Hi, how are you?". Neither of us cares, and answering "Fine." is the only non-involved, not lying, tactful-without-being-rude answer. Much beyond that, and we are both at a loss for words. I am still without children of my own, and she is still the "perfect" mother of "perfect" twins.

Forgiveness is tough. I know I should forgive her. I don't think she knows how hurtful she really is. I know I should be honest with her, not start with the hateful lashing back that comes to my tongue first. The dichotomy is that I don't want to. I have been hurt, and I still hurt from those wounds. They are fresh, deeply intensely personal, and she continually (while assuming she is helping) is pouring lemon juice on those open emotional sores.

I have "babies" that have graduated college, some were their High School class Valedictorians; are caring and wonderful young adults, and some are still truly babies just beginning the journey; I have seen many styles of parenting; had wonderful conversations with mothers who don't care that I am not a "mother" by the birth of a child, but a "mothering person" by the nature of the love for children. I am a Babysitter of as many as five children at a time, a Teacher to the small, and an Auntie to the two greatest kids to ever live.

Can't I be a pretzel? A little sweet and a little salty. One of my friends told me recently that she had just left church, and was not feeling very Christian right then. She was dealing with a difficult person, too. Those answers are out there, and I continue to look high and low for them. Surprisingly, I bet they are right in front of me. I think I ignore the answer. It is way easier to pretend that everything is OK, when I know it isn't.

The struggle to be true to myself and God's best me is constantly being tested. It may never be my calling to be a mother, like I have so wished for. It may just be that my calling is coming in the future. This must be teaching me patience. Maybe this is for more than myself. It may be that my calling is to be patient with the salty people of the world, that they may learn to be sweet.

Do The Lost Souls Really Congregate In Tulsa?

In the line of deep subjects, I have another that has been eating at my brain for a while. I warn you now, this one is religious. If you don't care, feel free to ignore this post. Seriously. I won't be hurt.

In our Sunday evening services with our church, we have been studying the Deep Subjects of the Bible. The deep questions that people have, and what the Bible says about it all.

I have been to the Tulsa International Soul-Winning Workshop (ISWW) many times over the years. I have gone a few times since I have been on my own, and able to drive myself. I know that good friends of mine have in the past and now live in Tulsa. As it is in Oklahoma, I feel a little more of an attachment to the workshop now that I am an adult. I don't want to make anyone upset. I am just thinking (typing) out loud.

Garnett church of Christ has bowed out of co-managing with Memorial Drive church of Christ. That makes me no never mind, but what is said at the end of this article does bother me. This bit is directly copied, not retyped by me. The quotes are from Terry Rush.

At a session titled “The Future Direction of the Workshop,” Rush also discussed the workshop’s practice of inviting speakers from outside Churches of Christ. The minister stressed that the direction of the workshop is “toward Jesus — not toward the church.”

To that end, workshop coordinators will continue to invite speakers that will inspire attendees to win souls for Christ, he said.

“You are smart enough to sort out the things that are valuable to you and discard the rest,” Rush said.

Now, I am not going to tell you that ONLY the Church of Christ (as a denomination) is going to heaven. I don't believe that. I have discussed those opinions before, and you can look it up, or we can have another conversation about it on email, whatever you like. However, I do believe that drawing people to Christ first requires knowing Christ, and what the speakers believe about Him, and how they will speak.

In order to bring people to Christ, the speakers who are invited to share MUST share the same belief in the Bible. I don't think that the Church of Christ (with or without that first C being capitalized) has the lock on salvation. I believe that the Body of Christ ~ His Bride, His Beloved, His church ~ needs to be told in no uncertain terms what is in His Book. Nothing more. Nothing Less. If we do not check what is said against the measure of the Good News, we are likely to be hoodwinked.

Do the elders of Memorial Drive oversee the lessons that are being presented? They should if they do not.

Yes, Mr. Rush. I am smart enough to "discard the rest", because I have read the Bible from an early age. If you want to bring people to Christ, but you start by presenting conflicting views of the message, you will be sowing the seed in rocky soil, and you will be putting the final nail in the coffin of the Workshop with the remaining attendees. Many have already boycotted the festivities, because they are entertainment more than education, and no longer exclusively Bible based. New Converts may not be studied enough to sort out the junk. It is part of your job to offer only speakers that are proven to be God's mouthpieces. By stating that speakers can come in from other brands of faith, you have joined in the Denominational shell game. Which one is right? You lose when you do not show others how to win.

Separating the saved from the church is impossible. The saved ARE the church. The church is not some name on a door; it is the gathering of family, believers to worship God. Your plan to attract people “toward Jesus — not toward the church” is ludicrous. Those people attracted toward Jesus will be added to the church by God. Not "the Church" as a denomination, but the "THE church" as God's chosen bride for Christ. It isn't your job, Mr. Rush, to decide how the message will be received. Your job, sir, is to tell the message without distortion.

What about the people who have never heard the name of Jesus as anything other than in vain? They don't know how to "discard the rest", and they should not have any of "the rest" to discard. If we are preaching Jesus Christ, and Him Crucified, and Raised from the Dead, then there is nothing left to discard.

I do not claim to know all there is to know about God's plans for me, but going to Tulsa's ISWW is probably not going to be in the works anymore.

Talk Of Weather And Family

It has been over 100 degrees for so long, I am not sure that the air knows how to cool down. Our poor air conditioner is working all the time, and barely keeping the house at 80. I am wearing tank tops all the time, and still sweating into a puddle. The box fans and the oscillating stand fans we have are also working constantly. Moving the air makes it feel cooler, even if that is just an illusion to my skin.

I don't enjoy summer, it is tediously hot, and I prefer cooler temperatures. Monday, we broke a record from the early 1900's, by one degree. Oklahoma City hit 105.

I am sitting here, waiting for the laundry to finish rinsing, and all I can think of is.... "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!" Yes, I would love to see cooler temperatures and colder precipitation.

On a happier note, DH and I got to babysit the Candy Kids last night. SIL goes back to school (she is a counselor, and faculty have to go back before the kids do) today, and she and BIL spent yesterday as a final summer fling mini vacation. They took the Kids to a swim park, and spent time together as a family; as if the whole of Tuesday was actually a Saturday. After DH got off work, we went to play with the Kids while their parents had a Fancy Dinner Date.

What is it about little kids wanting to go to school? Don't they know how much work it will be? Do they not understand how much fun they will miss out on by being cooped up in a building like so many chickens? Jelly Bean is infatuated with "My School" right now. Her house is three or four blocks from their neighborhood Elementary School, and she HAD to walk there, to show me where it was, and to play at the "park" behind it. She won't even attend there for another whole year, but she is convinced that it is hers right now. They grow up so fast. She isn't even three yet. Next year, she can start Pre-K. She beat that deadline by two days, smart girl.

MIL said that DH and SIL used to get up when they were supposed to be in bed; like they were in a toaster. POP! I called Jelly Bean a Pop Tart last night. I think it is just as accurate, and sweeter than toast. Jelly Bean decided that she could (POP) bump against her door, cry, and slide down the door to sit on the floor. I went and knocked on her door, and told her to get back in bed. I heard a scared little scamper, and then crying. I figured she would cool off if she really laid down. I went to get a glass of water for me. She came out once (POP), and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Then she found me in the kitchen. I told her that door slamming was unacceptable, and that she needed to go back to bed. I had to take her there. She was OK for a few minutes. I took my water and my book, and settled down for some good reading. Jelly Bean screamed, and ran out (POP) and told me that she wanted Mommy. We cuddled for a while, and I told her how good she had been that day, and that Mommy and Daddy were still on their date, but they loved her. We sang a song, and we cuddled some more. I took her back to her room, and she whimpered a little, but she settled down pretty quickly, and was asleep when her parents got home about an hour later.

Gum Drop must be teething. He was a grouchy gus when he was not giggling at Uncle DH. DH is tall, taller than their Daddy, so when he tosses them in the air, they are seriously high up there. Gum Drop loves to be tossed and tumbled and have razzberries blown on his belly. I say "zerberts" like Bill Cosby used to call them. Mommy gave him some Tylenol before she left, and poor babe was out cold for an hour and a half. I hope that he still stayed asleep the whole night. He was fighting the sleep when it came time to go to bed.

Gum Drop is almost walking by himself. He has the balance and the footwork, but he lacks the confidence. He has to be holding on to something. I was trying to get him to try walking alone. When I let go of one of his hands, keeping the other, he would turn. He put his free hand side forward, and would crab-walk sideways ahead, and cling to the remaining support for dear life. I traded hands once, and he traded which side was forward. Silly boy. He has a toy that has a seat for a scooter, and the seat can open up to let him walk between the halves. He was walking back and forth through the living room, and whining when he hit obstacles that wouldn't let him pass.

I had my camera with me, and didn't take any pictures. Shame on Auntie Chelf. But, I do have pictures from our Girls Day last Thursday. While the dealership had my new Honda to put a cruise control on it, I got to hang out with SIL and the Candy Kids. While Gum Drop napped, we girls painted our toenails Purple, and put stickers on them. I have a picture of MY toes, but I think I shall spare you. Here are Jelly Bean's toes. She picked the initial for one toe and the heart for the other.


I hope your summer has been full of fun! Tell me what your summer adventures have been.

We Will Find Out........ Right After THIS!

I know I have been absent for a couple of days... I haven't even read one single email until so late on this wonderful Saturday evening.

Bear with me. Please. I have some awesome news, and a few things to share.

For now, I will simply say... I have not forgotten any of you, and you will get to share in the fun in a day or two. I promise.

I hope everyone is having an adventurous weekend!

Because Falling Is Funny

I have felt today the true meaning of schadenfreude.

I was minding my own business, driving from a class at my church building (I was the class this week) to the grocery store in Edmond where I wished to buy fresh veggies and fruits. After entering the highway, I set my cruise to the limit of 60, and stayed in the right lane. I know that going ONLY the speed limit is irritating to some, so I follow the rules of the road; "Slow Traffic Keep Right".

Out of nowhere, there comes a little black car. He (She? I wasn't looking, really) passed me on the right, and in doing so cut back in front of me across the warning hash marks of the exit lane he was in. So, let's review. 1. Speeding (Remember that I am locked on the speed limit? I thought you were paying attention.) 2. Passing on the right. 3. Reckless driving. 4. Changing lanes without using a signal. 5. Crossing warning lines. (Should have exited at Hefner, dude.)

Now, I was having an OK sort of day, but there had been a few little things on my mind that were bothering me. This person cutting me off just made me shake my head and sigh. My first thought was my usual one when someone does something stupid in front of me in traffic: "Happy ticketing, jerk!" Yeah, I was good today, I didn't really say what I was thinking, even though I was in the car by myself. Usually, I tend to be more... inappropriate when I have nobody to hear me. Never a cop around when you need one. That dude needs a ticket, maybe he would slow down and not be a danger to others anymore. Somebody should have seen that!

And then the happiness burst forth. From traffic behind me, I saw a motorcycle cop maneuver through traffic, pass me, and get behind the little black car. Then the pretty Christmas lights (That is from the undercover cars, that look all normal, until they light up like a Christmas tree. No green; just red, white and blue.) came on, and the little siren that is impossible to hear over your stereo while on the highway. He actually pulled the little car over, and I was suddenly very happy.

Not only was the driver doing all those things I listed above, I think I saw a phone on the ear. I can't be certain. Maybe he wasn't wearing his seat belt. A part of me hopes that he got a hefty fine for all the rudeness. It was about 12:15 in the afternoon, so the dude (dudette, if that applies) was probably rushing around to get lunch and go back to an office job he hates. Life can be pretty easy, until you make it hard on yourself, you know? I just think it was funny.

The rest of the traffic around me slowed down when they saw the cop going for the reckless speeder. They had all been pretty far behind me, but suddenly were next to me, but pretending to obey the law they should have been following all along. It feels good to know that I was obeying the traffic laws, and that by breaking them around me, someone got caught. That has happened more in the past couple of years... I wonder if there are more cops, or if it is just that I happen to be at the right place at the right time? Truly, I believe that the world is out to get me.

I think I have a sign that shows up when I drive: It is Neon Green, and flashes the words, "Woman Driver, Please Cut Me Off". It changes color and adds words when I am with Roadrunner. Then it looks like a flashing traffic signal: Green, Yellow, Red... "Two women on board. You are required to do something stupid in front of this car". When we add Roadrunner's "I LOVE my children!", the sign goes even further: Blinking in the colors of the rainbow, the words, "We have children, we are women, hear us scream when you perform illegal and stupid acts near this car!"

I have my Dad's uncanny ability to kill streetlamps by merely driving past. I have my Mom's sense to tell people to stop, but usually the people in the other car can't hear me. I talk to the traffic, like Rachael Ray talks to her food. It is habit, and a nasty one, at that. I also get from Dad the knack for hitting every light red, especially when running late. DH has this too, but I don't know from whence he inherited. Unless my marriage to him made some of my dumb luck rub off on him?

For all of you who have ever sat out there in the traffic jam caused by the longest train known to exist in captivity, take heart. It really will be moved sometime this century. I promise. Even if by only microns per year. When it is blocking the one thing you want to do.... (just across the tracks in front of you!) say a prayer, and remember that you can't get a ticket for waiting on a train.

Or obeying the law.

I am truly giddy over this, and I should not be. This is bad.

A-Musing Potpourri

Word of the Post
Today's word is: brouhaha
/brew"ha*ha/ noun
The confused noise of many voices, cacophony. A noise much louder than its reason deserves.
I heard a clatter, and the sound of the resulting brouhaha carried all the way outside.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ever wondered why you bother? I have had a few days of that. I try and try, only to be disappointed again.

Roadrunner and I were supposed to do our multi-family garage sale on Friday and Saturday this week. And it rained. A lot. Getting up early, I took a shower and got dressed. I pondered the irony of putting on sunscreen as I heard the thunder for the first time. My paleness is legen- (wait for it...) dary. I can get a burn by starlight, I think. And I never even get a tan to show for it. So sad.

On Friday, we had both been awake from before 6, and had done all that weight lifting getting the stuff outside and onto the tables, only to take it back inside. We decided on Friday that we would try again some other weekend. We only had one lady actually look at our stuff, and we weren't even done displaying it that early. We were ready by 8, we were packed and back in the house by 11. Depressing. As if the rain weren't enough.

Today, DH and three other people went to work at the Luther Christian Service Center. It is a store of sorts, run by a lady in the church, who serves a very poor area not far from the city. She has a wall of shoes, piles of clothing, donated bulk food, furniture, and even toys. The guys are part of our clandestine group of charitable givers. We have had several workdays out there. When I went once, I helped one of the guys replace about 40 of their 6 foot flourescent light bulbs. DH helped replace the ballasts for some of their non-working lights today. He came home exhausted. Good work wears one out.

When he came home, DH brought with him a desktop computer tower. He said it was in the dumpster. The processor is the same brand as ours. The tower has a 160 gig hard drive, 1/2 gig of RAM, a DVD writer drive, a CD reader drive, built-in card readers (like the little external attachment I have for the laptop to read my camera card), and a black faced floppy drive, instead of the cream one (from DH's first computer, Maleficent). Most of that information is mumbo-jumbo to me, but I get some of it. I am wondering why it was thrown away. If the hard drive is bad, but the rest is useable, we still can upgrade our own tower for nothing. Yay! If the hard drive works, we just added quadruple the storage to our system. I hope it works. Even if just one part is salvageable, we are better off. Normally, I would have issues with him bringing leftovers from a dumpster, but this is different. Whatever we can't use, we can throw away, give away or sell in the next garage sale attempt. We couldn't buy these components right now, so I choose to think of it as reward for DH helping the Service Center. We don't do this for reward or profit. We do this to help Miss Ruby help the less fortunate.

Today has been a lazy day for me. I have done a lot of reading, some dishes, and I spent a lot of my TV time on the Hallmark Channel, or the Contemporary Christian Music Channel. I am reading The Shack by William P. Young, on the advice of Niki. She wants to have discussions about it. I am thinking these discussions will be good. I have about 50 pages to go, out of 248. It is a short book, as my reading list goes, but it is a lot to digest. Each chapter is full of deep thoughts to ponder, absorb and reflect upon before moving on. I want to rush through and finish, but I find I can't.

I made a Citrusade. Two lemons, two limes, one orange, some orange juice I had in a jug in the fridge, a little Marischino cherry juice, some Grenadine, a bit of vanilla and LOTS of sugar. I think it still has less sugar than the juices I could get at the store. I wasn't too terribly impressed, but DH is now on his second glass, so it can't be bad. I should have done some more housework. Laundry, dishes... something. But I just couldn't. The work yesterday wore me out. Today has been a rest. Tomorrow will be God's day, and then I can do work on Monday.

I made a mini crock pot of potpourri from the peels of the orange, lemon and lime. I added cinnamon stick, bay leaf, drops of mint extract, drops of vanilla, a dash of ground corriander, a teabag of Honey Peach Ginger tea from Cellestial Seasonings, and some whole cloves. My house smells yummy, and I can smell it best when the air conditioner kicks on. I need to take the teabag out, before the paper totally falls apart. I am thinking about just opening it up, and dumping the tea leaves in to keep the peachy scent alive. Or I can peel and core an apple, and add those bits while I have a tasty snack. Oooh. Idea.

The noisy bunny-painted ice cream van just drove by for the fifth time today (at 8 pm), and that is just the times I have seen it. I should call the city about the noise violation that thing is. Nuisance. It has a flashy yellow light on the top, and that is a danger to those prone to seizures and migraines. Health danger to the public, oh yes, I do need to call the city. I wonder what that guy's Carbon Footprint is? (Joking, but it can't be good.) He certainly can't be turning a profit, going through the same neighborhood six times a day, and using all that fuel.

Have a cold drink and a little dessert. You deserve it!

Weeds In My Heart

Beep. Beep. This is a test. This is a test of the Emergency Christian Network. Were this an actual emergency, you would have jumped to action instead of sitting like a lump and questioning "How high?" It seems you have passed this time, but the next time you might not be so gracious. We now conclude this test. Beep.

Do you ever think of minor questions as major tests? Today, a teen neighbor came over and asked if he could borrow our lawnmower. Technically, since I don't use it much, it is DH's lawnmower. I called him to ask if it was OK. I hesitated. He said yes, without much thought. I was the doubting one. My DH is so good!

Now, if it had been for his own yard, I would have been skeptical. But this was for my next door neighbor's yard. Across the street from the teen's house. I have to say that I am... ashamed. And I am still skeptical. I took a bit to go out and clean sticks from our yard, and the teen was mowing across the fence. I was watching him, hoping that he would not break our mower. Begging God that the mower come back full of gas, as it left. I still do not know what will happen. The lawn was tall, and the mower strong, but the teen inexperienced. I do not know if the boy has been raised with the courtesy I hope to see.

This seems to be a small thing, and the part of me that is embarrassed that I hesitated is hoping that his home circumstances allow him to be more than what I expect. It is no small cost if the mower gets broken. His single mom can't afford a new mower for me if he damages ours. After all the car repairs we have had lately, more household expense looks scary.

This seems to be a large thing, and the part of me that gave in is reading the Bible, and remembering that giving to the "least of these" is giving to God. I could be entertaining angels by this kind action. The lawn in question gets mowed nicely, and they only have to pay the teen. The teen learns responsibility, learns to return borrowed items in good condition.

This was a test. I feel as if I passed (I did loan the mower), and failed (I was too wary) at the same time. Does this make sense to anyone but me?

While I was typing this, the lawnmower was left on my front stoop (where the squirrel was a couple of posts back), and there was nobody to be seen. I had only checked the front yard because I saw the car leave across the street. The mower was full of gas, which is very nice, but it was left out in the open in a time when the wrong person could wander by and steal it. I swept off the little green leftovers, and locked it in the garage. He didn't even knock on the door, to tell me thank you. Sigh.

So did I pass? Did I fail? Did the teen? Jesus would have loaned the mower, don't you think? Life is full of little hypothetical questions, and daily challenges. How we act in the face of such determines where we go when our time is up. I hope I made the right choice in the face of my own worries.

It all makes me want to go put on some sunscreen, and go mow my own lawn. Work out my salvation... with work (as well as the fear and trembling). Yard work seems to be like gardening. If I can clean up the yard, maybe I can work out the cleaning of my mind's cobwebs. I am reading a book called "The Shack" by William Young, and while I have not yet finished it, it is making a lot of sense in regard to the mess of our souls. We have to clean out once in a while, and be left with a good, empty patch of fertile ground to receive the seeds that God intends to plant in us. More on that later, especially with Niki, who recommended the book to me.

I need to devote more of my time reading the Bible, and less time thinking about the reasons not to loan the mower out.