Articulating

A Birthday to Share

2011-12-05T22:33:00.000-05:00

Last month I celebrated yet another birthday. I can't say I'm thrilled about the number... unless I look at the alternative to getting older! ;-)

As always, my family wanted to know what I want for my birthday. "Something you need," they suggested.

Hmmm.

What do I need?

The apostle Paul admonished people to be content with food and clothing (1 Timothy 6:8). I have food, clothing, shelter, the best husband (who has a good job), a great family, wonderful friends... what else do I need?

Nothing.

"Okay, then, what do you want?"

Now we all know that this question, coming from young-adult kids, really is not "What do you want?" but "What do you want that I can afford?"

HA! They can't afford anything! At a loss again.

But there is one thing I've been wanting for a long time. The kids aren't going to be funding this one, though. This is a Husband-Wife thing.

What do I want?

I want to sponsor a poor child through Compassion International.

It takes only $38/month to adopt a child and provide them with textbooks, school supplies, clothing, hygiene items, and food. $38/month provides guidance for their future, hope for their family, and even an impact on their community.

$38/month.

Less than the electric bill.

Less than most parents spend on their kids' monthly cell phone bills.

Less than one good dinner at a nice restaurant for John and me.

About the cost of a pair of fairly cheap sneakers.

At one point in our lives, we couldn't afford this. At that point I wasn't asking to do it. But I've wanted to for so long, and I think we can handle it now.

So I asked my husband. THIS is what I really want for my birthday. Pleeeeeease?

And he said YES!

It didn't happen right away, because he was very busy and we didn't have time to sit down together and choose a child to sponsor. But last Saturday, on our 28th wedding anniversary, we did it!

I'm SO EXCITED!!!

On the Compassion website (www.compassion.com), you may search for a child by gender, by country, or by birthdate. I chose all 3.

Over the past several years I've become very concerned about the plight of children in the Horn of Africa. No charity organizations are available in Somalia, and many Somali children suffer in the refugee camps of Kenya. So we went looking for children in Kenya.

Next we narrowed it down to Kenyans with my same birth date. There were two. One looked like a little bald boy and one looked like a boy with close-cropped hair.

I clicked on the photo of the boy with short hair. He turned out to be a 17yo girl! She had a touching bio -- she lives with her grandmother on $19 a month (at the most). But I wanted to read the little bald boy's bio before we decided, so I clicked on his photo. He turned out to be a 10yo girl! She lives with her parents and 4 siblings, and her father might make as much as $25/month, if he can get hired as a day-laborer. Sometimes her mom gets hired as a day-laborer, too, leaving the children to fend for themselves while she helps to earn money to feed them. From the photo, this little 10yo girl has the bone structure I would expect to see in a 6-8yo American girl, and she's skinny as a rail. Her daily job is to go out each day and pick up firewood to feed the family meal fires. I have no idea how far she ranges each day to supply this.

She's the one we picked.

So within 15 days we will officially "meet" this girl, receiving in the mail a packet containing more information about her and guidelines for how to write her letters and what to send/not send.

I. Can't. Wait!!!

Happy belated birthday to me.

To both of us!

www.compassion.com

#1 Fan

2011-10-05T14:05:00.000-04:00

It's football season again!

If you didn't know this already, all you have to do is take a drive through scenic western NY. Buffalo Bills flags are flying, blue and red pennants are waving, and huge, puffy football players in Bills uniforms adorn people's lawns. These things amuse me (especially when an inflatable loses its air pressure and any passing breeze causes it to wobble around like a drunken snake charmer). I don't join the Bills fans since I grew up in Redskins country (shh! don't tell anyone!); I just enjoy the show, no matter who's winning.

Last week my daughter got me thinking about fans. The word "fan," of course, is derived from fanatic, which is normally an undesirable appellation. Yet at this time of year especially, people proudly sport fan shirts, license plates, decals, foam fingers, and even hair cuts which proclaim to the rest of the world that they are #1 fanatics. A quick internet search reveals that fans make up a fanbase or fandom by becoming members of a fan club, holding fan conventions, creating fanzines, and writing fanmail.

I'm personally not a joiner. I don't jump on bandwagons, join fanclubs, or write letters to people I've never met nor am likely to meet. If it's a fad, I typically don't do it. I'd rather watch others do it!

But I wonder if I'm a fan of anyone.

My husband, of course. He's amazing. Gorgeous, kind, and able to do anything. (Well, almost anything!)
My kids, for sure. They're the best. Good-looking, talented, loving little angels. (Well... most of the time!)
My mom, my sister, my extended family and friends...

Hmm... those are people... I wonder if I'm a fan of things.

Chocolate!
Sunsets.
Cloud formations.
Toasty socks and hot cocoa on a chilly day.
A great book on any day!
Time with special friends...

I suppose the list could go on forever.

Turning it around, though, I wonder if anyone is my fan. If I had a #1 fan, who would it be?

I have no idea.

But last week my daughter proclaimed it to be God.

What? God is a fan? Of me? My #1 cheering, encouraging, jumping-for-joy-when-I-get-it-right fan?

Isn't that a bit of a stretch? Isn't God really more of a solemn judge, more likely to swat my behind to get me moving than to shout for joy when I do it right?

When one wants to know anything, it's best to go to the source, so I headed for my bedroom and picked up my Bible.

Here's what I found:

1. Yes, God, like any loving parent, occasionally needs to discipline His children.
Proverbs 3:11-12 - God is like a loving father who disciplines the children He delights in.
Hebrews 12:5-6 - The Lord disciplines those He loves.

2. Yes, God is my #1 fan.

Psalm 18:19 - He delights in me.

Psalm 138:8, Jeremiah 29:11 - He has a good plan in mind for me.

Psalm 139:17-18 - He thinks about me.

Zephaniah 3:17 - He rejoices over me with gladness, He delights in me with shouts

of joy.

"He delights in me with shouts of joy."

Can't get much more "fan"-ish than that, can you?

I think sometimes the religious world tends to get unbalanced (*gasp* heresy!), either regarding God solely as the stern disciplinarian who lacks both a sense of humor and a true, loving joy in His children, or -- on the flip side -- regarding Him as the benevolent grandfather in the sky who judges humanity from the viewpoint of "boys will be boys" and rolls His eyes and chuckles when we get out of hand.

Reared in a sterner setting, the disciplinarian picture is probably the one I more quickly recognize from my formative years.

But balance is the key.

So my daughter was right. God really is my #1 fan.

How cool is that???

Getting It -- Patriotism and Our Pledge of Allegiance

2011-09-11T23:35:00.003-04:00

What a beautiful picture.

Some people criticize our flag. Some burn it. Some fly it upside down.

I think they just don't "get it."

To me, there's nothing quite so beautiful as our country's flag, whipping in the breeze. It proclaims honor. It voices national pride. It shouts victory!

Today in church, we held a memorial service for the heroes who gave their lives to help save others in the 9/11 terrorist attacks. It was an incredible service. You could tell everyone was engaged, everyone was getting it. It touched my heart.

There was the 50-something year old pastor, who couldn't sing "God Bless America" without tearing up. He gets it.

There was the 90-something year old veteran of WWII, standing as erect as he could, holding his oxygen tank, and proudly warbling the songs from memory. He gets it.

There was the 80-something year old navy veteran who can hold his breath longer than anyone else in our church (we competed last year!), who just buried his wife last week. He made it through the songs, but he took a lot more breaths than normal. He gets it.

There was the 70-something year old man who has endured major health challenges recently. He stood in front of me at full attention when we pledged allegiance to the flag. He always sits in the same place (as do we), and over the years I've noticed that he never conforms to the ritual phrasing of the pledge.

You know how we always do it...

I pledge allegiance.

To the flag.

Of the United States of America.

And to the republic.

For which it stands.

One nation.

Under God.

Indivisible.

With liberty.

And justice.

For all.

But he runs the words together more like the phrasing of complete sentences (like they were originally meant to be?). Consequently, he has to stop occasionally and wait for everyone else to catch up.

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America

and to the republic for which it stands,

one nation under God! (he always says this with emphasis)

Indivisible

With liberty and justice for all.

He gets it.

Out On A Limb (or An Introvert's Journey into the Unknown)

2011-09-10T12:26:00.000-04:00

Nothing earthshaking here; just a photo journal of my week so far.

Why is it the place I need to be is at the other end of a frightening journey? I've watched others do this, so I'm pretty sure I can, too, but my cozy kitty pillow felt much safer than this scrawny branch.

One more step forward. The ground is so far below!

If I squeeze my eyes shut, maybe that will help.

Aaaaaaaah! My back right paw trembled off the branch.

Erf! Splinter in the belly. This is NOT comfy. Legs, get back up here where you belong! Okay now, one more step, maybe with the eyes open again...

Wait. Where am I? Better yet, where am I supposed to be going again? And HOW am I supposed to get there?? A map would be good. A map? Please?? MY KINGDOM FOR A MAP!

Oh no, not a breeze! WIND, STOP SHAKING THE TREE!!!

Sure is a good thing I do chinups. Now if the bottom 2/3 of my body would only join the rest of us up here, too...

I'll try swinging it up. Forward. Backward. Forward. Momentum's a good thing, they tell me.

Faster now. Backward, forward, backward, forward, backward forward backwardforwardcackbardforbard...

Slipping! Slipppppppping! Dig the claws in deeper! Lunge, lurch, OOMPH!

Okay, there. A little traumatized, but safely delivered to top of branch again, including all essential body parts, I think.

What I really think is it's time for a nap. Wake me when we get there, okay? ;)

So how was your week? :)

Relationship Geometry (or, A Great Friend is a Rubik's Cube)

2011-09-01T14:36:00.000-04:00

I loved high school geometry. Did you? Measuring lines, bisecting angles, drawing circles and arcs... This is just plain fun to me!

Since my youngest is in 10th grade, this year is my last opportunity to teach geometry. Working with him on lines, segments, rays, and angles got me thinking...

Every relationship can be illustrated in geometry!

Yeah, I know, you're rolling your eyes. But bear with me.

You are a point. We'll call you Point A.

But no man is an island, so we'll add me to the picture. I'll be Point B.

Two islands! Helloooo over there!

Now, if you and I were to connect in some sort of relationship, whether a work-related one or a friendship, we could be illustrated by a line segment.

This is us, joined in an exclusive relationship. No other points are involved, no other lives affected. Just you and me. On the surface this can appear to be a good thing, as in a marriage or a "best friendship." But an exclusive relationship tends to become ingrown. There's too much pressure on one person to support the entire weight of another. A line segment relationship just isn't going anywhere.

(Please don't misunderstand -- I'm not a bigamist, and I'm not advocating infidelity! I'm just saying that in marriages, your spouse isn't the only friend you should have. He/she should ideally be your closest friend, but not your only one.)

I observed an exclusive relationship one time, shortly after we moved to NY. I was talking with a lady in a social situation, and we hit it off fairly well. The next time I saw her, I spoke with her briefly again, just a friendly contact. Everything seemed fine. The next time I spoke to her, though, she felt compelled to inform me, "I already have a best friend, and I don't have the time to invest in other relationships."

I was amazed. I wasn't asking her for anything at all beyond the mere politeness due a person you see frequently. But she was evidently absorbed in her relationship with another person to the extent that she couldn't afford mere pleasantries on a repeated basis. What a shame.

(P.S. This lady's best friend died last winter. I wonder how she coped with the disintegration of her entire universe.)

Okay, moving on, another type of relationship. Ray AB illustrates a one-way relationship.

We typically see this in a parent-young child relationship, or in other caregiver situations where the receiving of one without giving back is normal.

A people pleaser, however, often winds up in relationships -- again, whether work-related or in social circles -- where they give to others who dominate them in such a way that they never receive any return on their relationship investment. They become doormats.

Anne Hathaway played this part well in the movie Bride Wars. Until she decided to quit catering to everyone else, she was used by self-centered people to further their own agendas. This is not a truly beneficial relationship for either the giver or the receiver, and is doomed to failure when the giver exhausts his resources or the receiver finds someone who can give them more.

In a relationship between two healthy adults, however, this should not be the norm. The ideal would be illustrated by Line AB:

Both points are interacting with each other as well as extending their reach outward.

As relationships interact, we can find another example of exclusivity as seen below.

All points interact with each other, provided the points are invited inside the circle. This is fine in a business situation, on a committee, for instance, but in relationships it's called a clique. As with other exclusive relationships, it will eventually become ingrown and suffocate. Good friendships should be made stronger by including others.

So far, everything we've looked at has been 1- or 2-dimensional. A growing relationship, however, should become 3-dimensional, developing depth as the people get to know each other.

The many facets of their personalities and experiences combine to create a solid relationship that can stand on its own, largely unaffected by outside forces.

And a GREAT relationship becomes like a Rubik's Cube, always stuck together no matter which way circumstances turn it!

Mottos

2011-08-31T14:46:00.001-04:00

Do you ever think about mottos?

I can't even think the word "motto" without also mentally hearing the lines from Disney's movie, The Lion King:

Simba: "What's a motto?"

Timone: "Nothing! What's a motto with you? Hahahahaha!"

Yeah, my funny bone is easily tickled!

Aside from the questionable wisdom provided by animated movie characters, I've been thinking about mottos lately.

It started when I was conversing with a lady who was working with preschoolers. The children were busily occupied in various corners of the room, playing house, driving cars accompanied by appropriate sound effects, etc. In the course of our conversation, it was mentioned that a certain store had changed its selling policy nationwide. From across the room, a little voice sang out, "Nationwide is on your side!"

The adult conversation lay in ashes at the feet of two laughing females.

Mottos have magic. They should sum up your reason for being, beckon you to a higher level of excellence. They should reflect your purpose and sound appealing to your ears.

An internet search, however, reveals that famous quotes are often confused with mottos.

For instance, it's interesting and even intriguing to note that Albert Einstein said, "Imagination is more important than knowledge," but is that a motto? Not necessarily. I like it, but it's just a thought-provoking opinion held by a genius.

Dictionary.com defines motto this way:

1. a maxim adopted as an expression of the guiding principle of a person, organization, city,etc.

2. a sentence, phrase, or word expressing the spirit or purpose of a person, organization,city, etc., and often inscribed on a badge, banner, etc.

A search for a bona-fide motto yields an interesting array of applications worldwide.

Organizations use mottos - for example, the Civil Air Patrol - Semper Vigilens or Always Vigilant
Civil servants use mottos - the Minneapolis Police Department, for instance - To Protect with Courage, To Serve with Compassion
Universities and countries employ them - Yale's is Lux et veritas or Light and truth, and Morocco's is God, the Country, the King.
And of course, nearly everyone can quote various mottos from the military. For example, what do you think of when I say, "Be all that you can be" or "Semper Fi"? Do I hear a "huah!"?

Business mottos are particularly interesting. Some are very serious, reflecting a dual purpose of advertising quality products while motivating employees:

Accenture: High Performance, Delivered
Casio: Creativity and Contribution
Kalypso: Delivering on the promise of innovation

Others are blatant horse hockey designed solely to attract business:

Burger King: Have It Your Way
Canon: Delighting you always
Electrolux: Thinking of you

Some are clever:

Nikon: At the heart of the image
Infosys: Win in the flat world

Some are motivational in many life areas:

Nike: Just do It

Some fall kind of flat:

Morrisons: More Reasons to Shop at Morrisons
Nutella: Che mondo sarebbe senza nutella (What would the world be like without Nutella)

And others are imaginative or just plain fun:

KFC: Finger Lickin' Good
Xbox 360: Jump In

I never had a motto. Never thought I needed one. But recently, I've been thinking about adopting one temporarily. Born out of a lifetime of people pleasing and striving to meet others' expectations, it will need to reflect a desire to move forward, to grow, to be independent minded. It can't be distracting with flowery words or phrases. It can't be cumbersomely long. I'd like it to be both imaginative and fun, but the reality is I'm already imaginative and fun. This motto needs to spur me to stop apologizing for being who I am.

So after thinking for a while, I summed all that up into 2 short reminders made of only four words. I put it on a document, framed it in a border, printed it and put in on my bookshelf.

It will do for now.

It's not catchy or cutesy-wootsy. It'll never make money or become a nationwide catch-phrase. But it serves as a reminder to stand a little straighter, to stop mentally mumbling apologetically. It frees me to be me.

What do you think? Do you have a motto that serves you well?

Recent Wonderings...

2011-08-29T18:24:00.003-04:00

A large percentage of my musings end in question marks. Don’t yours? Tell me this is normal!

Consequently, I often find myself wondering the oddest things.

Recent wonderings include the following:

Why is the word “egret” (a large white bird) found in the word “regret” (to rue or feel sorry about)?
Which is really right – flier or flyer? Does it matter?
Why is the word “neigh” in “neighbor”?
And -- probably spawned in the wake of Hurricane Irene’s devastation -- is it possible to wreak anything besides havoc? What if you wanted to wreak something positive, like organization or joy? Would it still be wreaking?

Being a compulsive researcher – which I blame on my parents’ purchase of a set of encyclopedias when I was young and impressionable – I am often compelled to internet pursuits by questions like these. These are some of the answers I’ve found:

British people prefer “flyer” for both the brochure and what flies. Americans prefer “flier” for both. According to this internet distinction, I am British. Good to know. Maybe this explains why my 15yo son sounds like Sean Connery when quoting most movies.

Oh, and yes, it matters whether you use “flier” or “flyer.” At least if you believe the founts of wisdom on the college web sites, it does. As an American (despite what the internet and my son's accent would have me to believe), I need to stick with the "i” and not the “y” unless I am using a trademarked name like “Radio Flyer.”

“Neigh” in “neighbor” has no relation to the sound a horse makes. It comes from the root of “nigh,” meaning “near,” which is where your neighbor lives. Near you. Works for me!

And “wreak” is an ancient English word with the same root as “wreck.” In that light, I believe you’d have to choose some other verb for dispensing happiness, orderliness, or any other positive results.

But I still have no idea why “egret” is found in “regret.” Do you?

Friday Favorite: The Whole Family Together Again

2011-08-26T14:06:00.000-04:00

When we found out our kids in TX were coming to NY for a visit, we suddenly realized it was the perfect opportunity to get the whole family together for some pictures. After we found a date when the other kids were available, we began inviting grandparents, aunts, cousins, etc. for a picnic on Sunday afternoon. I CAN'T BEGIN to tell you what a pleasure it was, having all these people traipsing over our house, carrying paper plates laden with potato salad and pulled pork, chatting and laughing and passing the baby around. I loved sitting on the edges, watching the smiles and listening to the banter as four generations interacted with each other.

What a blessing.

The highlight came when we all took a short drive to a nearby camp where we were able to choose from a variety of different backgrounds for group photographs. We had invited a family friend who is a great amateur photographer to spend the day with us, and she took some marvelous pictures. This is my favorite of our kids:

So, quite without realizing it, we hosted our first family reunion. It was over far too quickly, but the memories linger, sparked every time we scroll through the photos...

How about you? Did you attend any great get-togethers this summer? What are your favorite memories from them?

Going Frugal - Homemade Laundry Products

2011-08-15T15:49:00.000-04:00

According to Ben Franklin, a penny saved is a penny earned. Lately, frugality has gained in popularity until it approaches the status of new fad. TV shows feature coupon-aholics who stockpile more than they can use in three years, and blogs give advice on how to "go green" on everything from gardening to homemade toilet paper. While I'm never the first to jump on a bandwagon (unless the music is REALLY great!), I figure Ben had a good point, and every penny I can save from one purchase now is a penny I can spend on something different later.

A few weeks ago, our clothes dryer rolled over, coughed a little, and gently died. My wonderful handyman husband heaved a sigh, took it apart, inspected this area and that, and pronounced it dead at the scene. Since the washer was also giving signs of imminent expiration, we went shopping for a matched set.

(A humorous side note: We couldn't find any gas dryers in town, so we went to a store on the west side of Erie. The sales associate at that store explained that gas dryers aren't stocked in larger towns/cities around here, because the market demands electric. More rural markets stock gas appliances. "As you can see," he gestured widely to prove his point, "we're full of gas here!" He continued his sales spiel without even a flicker of an eyelash... and I gave in to a sudden need to move away and inspect other models. Yes, it was cowardly, I know, but I admit to deserting my husband, leaving him to make polite conversation after that remark.)

Not long afterward, Handsome Hubby installed our new machines and we stepped back to watch them work, commenting on the changes in technology in the past several decades since we've purchased these appliances.

Me: "The washer's much quieter than the old one."

Him: "The dryer's just as noisy as the old one."

Me: "You can't watch the washer agitate anymore! When you open the lid, it stops."

Him: "Is watching clothes agitate a favorite past-time of yours or something?"

Me, sheepishly: "Well... yeah... kinda!"

Him, rolling eyes: "So find a magnet to fake out the lid sensor."

And so on. One of the things that did concern me, though, was that we've always purchased powdered laundry detergent for our family of six, since it's usually cheaper than the liquid. And I wasn't sure our powder detergent was dissolving well.

But I've heard quite a bit recently about people making their own liquid detergent. I come from a long line of Make-It-From-Scratch homemakers, so I did the research and we decided to give it a try.

First to choose a recipe. Since we're attempting to make detergent, why not make fabric softener and oxyclean, too? Sure. We're ~~gluttons for punishment~~ the adventurous sort. Why not? More research of recipes and perusal of comments to ensure the process worked for most individuals, and decisions were finally made.

Here are the recipes we chose:

Laundry detergent - adapted from http://www.thefamilyhomestead.com/laundrysoap.htm

1/3 bar Fels-Naptha -- Grate into a saucepan

6 cups water -- Add and heat, stirring till soap melts

1/2 cup washing soda (not baking soda) and

1/2 cup Borax -- Add both of these and stir dill dissolved. Remove from heat

4 cups water -- Pour into a large bucket. Add soap mixture and stir.

1 gallon plus 6 cups water -- Add and stir. Let sit 24 hours. Stir again (a paint-stirring attachment on a drill works well to ensure all ingredients are well mixed.

Use 1/2 cup per load

Fabric softener -- adapted from http://thefrugalgirls.com/2010/10/homemade-fabric-softener.html

6 cups water - heat till HOT. Remove from stovetop.

2 cups hair conditioner - Add & mix well, till conditioner is completely dissolved

3 cups white vinegar - Add and mix well

Optional: several drops essential oil for scent - Add and stir in

Use 2 tablespoons per load

Oxiclean -- adapted from http://grocerycartchallenge.blogspot.com/2009/06/homemade-oxycleanjust-in-time-for.html

1/2 cup hydrogen peroxide

1/2 cup baking soda

Mix and pour directly into wash water.

(Note: Since we want the oxidization process to happen in the wash load, we just mix this up immediately before pouring it into each load. It's certainly not difficult, and it has worked well so far!)

Recipes chosen, the second step is to assemble ingredients. Many of these we didn't have on hand, but a online quick cost-comparison of nearby stores gave us the best prices for our shopping trip.

Next step: Follow directions! This was the fun part. We grated and melted and stirred and poured, and by the end of a half hour or so we had about 2.5 gallons of detergent and about 3 quarts of fabric softener in less time than it takes to drive to the grocery store. They both smell great, but how do they work?

Next step: Try them out!

Results? They need to be stirred or shaken before use (either one is okay, despite James Bond's preference), but that's no problem. So far so good! Clothes smell clean and fresh, stains come out, dinginess is avoided, and there's no static electricity.

But what about the bottom line?

Here's our cost comparison:

Homemade laundry detergent - about a penny per use

Previous laundry detergent - $.07 per load

Savings = $.06 per washload.

Not significant, but that's still six cents earned! Ben Franklin would be proud. I'm feeling kind of proud! :)

Homemade fabric softener - less than a penny per use

Previous fabric softener - $.28 per load

Savings = $.27 per washload.

This is worth noticing. Multiply that times 6 loads per week, and we have $1.62 per week.

Homemade oxidizer - about $.03 per use

Previous oxidizer powder - $.46 per use

Savings = $.43 per washload.

Wow.

This is significant savings. I sense a homeschool math lesson coming up! Add them all together:

$.06

.27

+ .43

$ .76 per load

Multiply that times 6 loads per week = $4.56

Multiply that times 52 weeks per year = $237.12 saved/earned per year.

I can certainly think of other things to spend $237 on than laundry products!

Bottom line: It's cheaper, it works, and it's fun to make! We'll definitely be doing this again!

This Week's "Favorites" - Random Moments

2011-08-13T20:47:00.000-04:00

Do you look back at the end of your days or weeks and pick out favorite moments from them? Or is that just a quirk of mine?

Okay, okay, let's skip the topic of my quirkiness! I like to pick out favorites on Friday, just because I like the alliteration of "Friday Favorites" (yet another quirk, I know!), but on Friday I couldn't narrow my favorite moments down to just one, and today I added another two. So here's the latest version of my week's "Favorites" -- Random Moments, in no particular order.

1. Favorite Flower Moments - This bouquet graced a table at a baby shower for a person I don't even know in Buffalo, NY, on Sunday, July 24. Here it is, three weeks later, and it looks nearly as fresh as it did then! My friend who attended the shower brought them to the church to decorate our Registration Table at VBS, where they proceeded to wilt when we forgot to add water to the vase, then spring back to life again the next day. They have brought so much joy over the past three weeks!

(How have they managed to stay so fresh looking? Does anyone know? Do florists hold the secret to the Fountain of Youth nowadays? Maybe I should drink from that vase!)

2. Favorite Kitty Moments - Yes, you know the story now of the scary hours when we thought Friskie was gone. This week she has sneaked into the house several times to drape herself across the back of my chair or curl up - as she is here - in the midst of my work. Here she shares her lovely fur with my son's new work uniform while I hem the slacks.

3. Favorite Summer Weather Moments - This week has been gorgeous! I have enjoyed it so much. The sound of the wind whipping the flag out front or rustling the poplar leaves has been beautifully accompanied by the musical tinkling of the wind chimes my son gave me for Christmas (you can see them hanging from the corner of the porch roof if you look closely). They're supposed to be tuned to the first eight notes of "Amazing Grace," but we often hear other songs in the notes as well. It's fun to find out what songs the other family members hear when we're out on the porch at the same time!

4. Favorite Friend Moments - No, this is not a picture of my friends! I didn't get a photo of them this time, but today my husband and I met D & J at a restaurant in Warren, PA, for breakfast. We try to do this every couple of months, but with John working away from home so much recently, we hadn't had a chance to get together in ages. What fun we had, though, catching up on the times we'd missed, sharing photos, and just generally "flapping our gums" as our friend D puts it. And these peach muffins were my favorite food there! I'm going to have to figure out this recipe sometime soon!

5. Favorite Hubby Moments - Yes, he is my favorite hubby! He says it doesn't count for me to call him my favorite since he's my only one, but of all the husbands in the world he's my favorite, so it works for me. Friday John returned home from a week of on-the-job training two hours from home, and we shared a favorite supper (Stew Beef and Dumplings) and a movie (Sahara) with the guys. Good times, great memories! Then today, after meeting our friends for breakfast, John took me to one of the nearby company tower sites and explained the equipment and inner workings to me after replacing an air filter in the building at the base of the tower. It was a beautiful, sunshiny day, and we enjoyed every moment of it.

There! It's certainly not a comprehensive list, but these are the favorites from this week that stand out in my mind at this moment. It's such a pleasure to look them over, treasure the best moments, and thank God for blessing me with them.

So tell me, what favorites did you have? I'd love to hear them.

The Thought Expressed

2011-08-11T01:40:00.000-04:00

You know the old saying, "It's the thought that counts"?

I disagree.

In the right context, sure. You tried hard to pick out a lovely gift but it was not quite the right color. The thought counted. Or you made the phone call to an old friend on their birthday, but they were out of town and you had to leave a message. The thought counted. You picked a bouquet of flowers for a sad friend and it made her sneeze. But the thought counted. A lot!

But if you only thought about picking out the gift? Or you only thought about making the phone call or giving flowers? Sorry. Those thoughts don't count.

Why?

Because the thought was never expressed.

How can the thought count if no one knows you "thunk" it? ;)

This was brought home to me twice this week...

Once was when my daughter thoughtfully reminded me on Facebook that I have not updated my blog site in well over a year.

In the comments section under her remark, I brushed it off. So what? No one's missed it. Therefore, it's obviously just a waste of time. If I feel the need to write, I don't have to publish it on the web. What's the point of doing that if no one cares to read it?

Immediately I had 3 comments from people claiming that they had looked for it several times and missed it.

Okay, but how am I to know that? If you missed it but didn't tell me, how does your thought count?

Besides, I mentally wrote several blog entries, just never had the time to actually post them. I thought about it...

Oops.

Caught.

Yeah, I thought, but I didn't express the thought. I can't exactly reproach someone else for doing the same thing I did, can I? :)

Maybe I'd better work on some follow-through myself!

The second thing occurred Sunday morning. We were on our way to church, driving through the state forest area near our home, when John suddenly stopped the car and began backing up. I found out why when he jumped out and went to the side of the road...

A beautiful calico cat had recently been killed in an accident there.

And she sure looked a lot like ours.

And I hadn't seen ours since Saturday morning.

Now I'm not really a cat person. Probably it has something to do with their independent natures as well as my oxygen addiction and the tendency of my throat to close up when I'm in close proximity to cats. Breathing just seems more important to me than cuddling up to an animal which doesn't really care if you live or breathe as long as you feed it.

But our calico, Friskie, is truly the sweetest cat I have ever known. She stays outside most of the time, catching mice and teasing the dog and rubbing against our ankles when she wants attention. In the 10 years she's been alive, her disposition has always been gentle (unless the dog is in her face), and she's the best momma cat I've seen. Every one of our friends who has one of her kittens has raved over their personalities and gentle ways.

So although I don't typically fawn over her or even pay much attention to her, I do place high value on her... something I didn't realize till Sunday when I looked into the face of a dead calico by the side of the road.

Another calico does live somewhere in our neighborhood. I've seen it around. Could it be possible that this one was not ours? Not that I wished for someone else's pet to be gone, but it sure would be nice if it weren't ours... "Nope," my husband said. "It's Friskie. I'm sure of it."

So we went on to church, and I participated in the service without letting anyone know I was grieving over a silly furry creature who has been part of our family life for over a decade now. She was just a cat, right? But she was important to me. And suddenly I wondered if she knew that. She didn't ask for much from us, but didn't she deserve to know we thought she was special? But she was just a cat. Just a cat.

My thoughts went round and round till I was nearly dizzy with self-justification. I know I didn't pay much attention to her, but I took care of her, right? I made sure she had food, water, and shelter, took her to the vet, made sure she was protected when pregnant or nursing kittens. Sure, I know I didn't really express a lot of affection to her during those ten years, but I really did treasure her. She knew that, right?

But how could she, if I didn't express it?

Oops. Again.

What a lesson in expressing to those around us how much we value them while we still have time to do it! How will they ever know, unless the thought is expressed?

I have no idea what the church lesson was about. I was busy preaching myself one. The thought doesn't count unless it's expressed.

I know that. I just keep forgetting. I hope I remember it a little better this time!

When we returned home, there was Friskie, lying on the porch in a patch of sunlight. As we walked down our the long path from the driveway to the house, she reared up her head and shot us a baleful glance, yawned, stretched, and went back to sleep. What a relief! I didn't care that she was doing the independent cat thing -- I hugged and petted her and told her how glad I was that she was okay. She opened one eye and looked at me as if to say, "Yeah, yeah, now would you quit interrupting my nap?"

Typical cat! :)

But you know what? She has been more cuddly, more seeking of companionship this week than she has in ages. Maybe even cats need to know they're important to someone. Maybe even a cat needs to have the thought expressed.

Because it's only when the thought is expressed that it actually counts.

Finding the Rhythm

2010-03-21T20:59:00.001-04:00

Life has taken a turn.

Every aspect of life holds some sort of rhythm, don't you think? Mine certainly has.

Life with a new baby had the little one's needs pulsing at its center.

Life as a homeschooling mother of four children had education as its heartbeat.

It remains to be seen what my life as an empty-nester will hold.

But now, with an adult child on his own, two college kids living at home, and one junior-higher still homeschooling, life has taken yet another unexpected turn.

Despite the corporate takeover and sellout at my husband's workplace, he is able to keep his current job for now. For this we are grateful beyond words. But there's more.

When he finally met his new boss by phone, the boss asked him, "Why are you traveling 65 miles to work every day? Clean out your office and work from home!"

So he did.

We are still living in our basement while working upstairs to try to finish our house. Since the new office on the middle floor isn't done yet, John moved some blocks and boards into one of the unfinished bedrooms and created an office to work from while still building the rest of the house.

It has been wonderful having him home. His 30-second commute is fraught with danger, however -- 2 flights of stairs and dangerous wood shavings, sawdust, and exposed insulation. I don't know how he handles the stress. ;) He may progress to a different type of job within this company which will involve new things, but for now, we're very thankful for the savings in time and gas money that this change has blessed us with, and we're hoping it lasts awhile.

Now we just have to find the new pace to our day's schedule, the new rhythm to our life.

I think we can do this!

Behind the Face

2009-10-16T13:19:00.000-04:00

Is anyone besides me fascinated with clocks?

Not the digital kind with their glaring lights and block numbers, loudly proclaiming the waning of day with no time to spare for aesthetics.

No, what I'm in love with are the beautiful old-fashioned timepieces that have faces and hands. The kind that have mysterious things going on behind the faces... gears moving and meshing and making them tick. They are precise pieces of machinery progressing at a steady rate no matter what else occurs. Thunderstorms may rage outside, but still the clock ticks. Earthquakes may shake us up, but the beautiful timepiece (hopefully) survives, marking our movement through our days. Life twists and turns and shows its bumps in the road, but still the clock moves faithfully ahead, unfazed, always doing its duty in a beautiful and efficient manner.

There are two types of clocks I have always longed for. One is the cuckoo clock made in the Black Forest of Germany, an area some of my ancestors hail from. Sometime maybe I'll tell you the story of the German baroness - my great, great grandmother - who ran off with the butcher - my great, great grandfather... but that's a story for another day. The cuckoo clock, with its intricate mechanisms and array of amusing movements, is the point here. I find them fascinating!

The other type of clock I dearly love is the grandfather clock. Originally called a long-case clock, it gained its current appellation from the childhood song that became popular in the nineteenth century, which I also learned as a child and eventually passed on to my children.

My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf
So it stood ninety years on the floor.
It was taller by half than the old man himself
Though it weighed not a penny's weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born
and was always his treasure and pride,
But it stopped
Short
Never to go again,
When the old man died.

Ninety years without slumbering
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
His life's seconds numbering
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
But it stopped
Short
Never to go again
When the old man died.

I first saw a grandfather clock in an old farmhouse in Virginia that belonged to long-time friends of my parents. I remember during my elementary school years making my first visit to the house of these friends, timidly approaching the entrance of this strange house and desperately hoping I wouldn't make any social faux-pas. The old farmer and his wife were gracious and welcoming, beaming their smiles and sparkling their glances toward me as they tried to make me feel comfortable in their home. I looked around in awe; I had spent the majority of my young life in the city, and a cool, spacious farmhouse was totally alien territory. The adults preceded me into the kitchen to visit around the worn table, but I took my time exploring the cavernous shadows of the living room with its vast, cushiony furniture. I ran my hand over soft chair backs, inspected - without touching, as a good girl should! - the ceramic figurines on the roll-top desk, examined the wall photographs which were arranged to display a family of offspring much older than I, who had all graduated from high school and begun to make their way in the world.

And then I saw it, and - just like in the song above - I stopped.

Short.

Never before in my life had I seen such a beautiful clock. I peered at it, loving the dark grain of the wood, examining the details of the face and the hands, wondering at the sun and moon depicted in a semi-circle above them. And what was that shiny brass pendulum thing doing at the bottom? Why were there chains and metal tubes hanging inside the cabinet? I was transfixed. Suddenly the chimes sounded, causing me to jump back in astonishment, then peer forward in curious joy. How did this item of beauty produce such enchanting sounds? What made it work?

Since that day I have wanted a beautiful grandfather clock of my own. Not a cheap, processed one made from a kit. A real one. Carved. Beautiful. Someday maybe I'll have one. Maybe not. I don't suppose it really matters. What matters is the memory, the treasure of the image I have in mind of a wonderful piece of working machinery, an instrument both beautiful and functional.

The clock pictured here is one that was owned by my dad, a lover of trains. He, too, was fascinated by gears and machinery, as well as by the lonesome call of a steam whistle and by the endless chugging of wheels passing by. Somehow this clock accidentally ended up in our possession three years ago after we moved my mom, a recent widow with still-gaping and raw wounds in her heart, into her new house. After settling her in as best we could, we packed up our belongings, hugged a lot and cried a little, and returned to our home 10 hours north of her. But somehow, in the confusion of packing the vehicle at night, we ended up with Dad's clock. I was horrified, upon my arrival at home, to discover that we had unintentionally stolen what might be treasured by her. It's not an expensive clock; it's just a piece of our past, something that belongs in our family history. An immediate phone call, a quick explanation and rushed apology later, and everything was settled. We could keep Dad's clock with Mom's blessing. Dad's train clock now sits on top of a bookcase in our living room, humming a steady accompaniment to our life's ups and downs. A treasure. Not because of its monetary value. Because of something far more important. Intrinsic value.

Another clock I treasure came from my grandmother as a gift for a birthday when I was a teenager. It's packed away now, or I'd take a photo of it to share with you. It's about five inches tall, a round face sitting on a ceramic ledge, framed by a ceramic girl on one side and a boy on the other side, stretching on tiptoe to reach each other and share a kiss across the top of the clock. Even the thought of it makes me smile. Another inexpensive treasure of intrinsic value.

Intrinsic. Now there's an interesting word. I wonder what it means. Time for a blogging rabbit trail....

An online dictionary proclaims intrinsic to mean "basic and essential; belonging to something as one of the basic and essential features that make it what it is."

How intriguing. Thought-provoking.

When I started writing today, I had no idea where this blog posting was headed. There are dozens of directions this could take. Somehow I started out thinking about clocks and ended up thinking about intrinsic value. But the thought that sticks in my mind is how people are often similar to clocks. Some are apparently as mindless as a digital clock seems to me, proudly - even blatantly - displaying all they know. Perhaps efficient, serving their place in the world, valued by those who appreciate that type. But others are the type I treasure, the kind with working motors behind their faces, with intricate gears moving and meshing in the background... the kind who ponder life and its purpose... and this is what produces and beautifies the proclamations they make. These are the people who bless the lives of others around them. These are the people who - in spite of their ups and downs, their good days and bad - bless my life.

Thank you, my friends, for being a beautiful treasure to me of incredible intrinsic value, basic and essential to my life. I appreciate you!

Changes

2009-09-30T09:02:00.000-04:00

Wow, has it really been 6 months since I've posted anything?

Looking back, I can't pinpoint a reason why. Sometimes the river of life runs too deeply to babble about.

Today my second-born turns 21 years old. Twenty-one. (I'm pretty sure I was 8 when he was born!) In the past year of his life, he has entered a bad relationship, grown, and exited it. He has returned to college full-time while still holding down a 32-hour/week job. He has pursued challenges, knocked on doors, made choices, found a new relationship, stayed with the old job, loved his family, hated his job, and laughed out loud. Ever impulsive and hungry for new horizons, he has opted to remain where he is for now, learning and stretching his brain while ignoring the chafing in his spirit to move quickly. Has it been a good year? It's been a growing year. How could that not be a good thing?

Tomorrow my first-born moves 200 miles farther away from us. His job offered him a transfer to Chattanooga, a city he has never seen. In the past year of his life, he has struggled with a broken heart, hated his living situation, loved his job, moved to a new place with a new good friend, asked questions, pondered life and the unfathomable female mind, commiserated with others, smiled quietly, squirmed under the weight of no future direction, and actually laughed out loud a few times. Never the impulsive one of the family (his brother had that one locked up), he is suddenly picking up his roots and moving on, heading out to meet the unknown challenges of life face-first, head up, shoulders squared. It's been a tough year, but he has grown. How could that not be a good thing?

The other family members and I have also faced changes, growing changes... but these are the big ones staring me in the face at the moment.

A popular song proclaims, "Time may change me, but I can't trace time."

But maybe we can trace time.

Just look for the growth rings.

A Colorful Mystery

2009-03-24T09:34:00.000-04:00

Don't you love those fun little surprising moments that brighten your life in unexpected ways? You can be sailing along on your normal routine, and all of the sudden, POP! up jumps a funny little bump in the road. It doesn't have to be life-changing. It can be as inconsequential as most of life itself. But with its unexpected arrival comes a bright little ray of sunshine into your day.

Now that the snow is melting more, it's funny to drive down the road and see all of the neighbors' mailboxes lying at strange angles along the side of their driveways. Spring is definitely a time of renewal around here! First, finding the crushed or dented mailbox under the mountain of snow, digging out all of the pieces of the splintered post, designing new plans for a mailbox that's CERTAIN to outwit the town snow plows, and finally crafting it. John's current project features two mailboxes - one larger than the other, with the smaller one inside the larger one and the space between them filled with concrete! I'm not sure what the post will be like, but he's working on plans! Meanwhile, we're still picking up mail at the PO a couple of times per week.

Back to the surprise, though. Recently, a package arrived in the mail. My daughter came in carrying several days' worth of letters, flyers, and junk mail, and handed over a box with a puzzled, "Were you expecting a package?"

No, I wasn't. I turned it over in my hands. It was a small package, about 4"x5"x1.5"... just a plain brown box fashioned from a piece of non-corrugate cardboard, slit and folded and taped shut. My name and address were printed - computer-style - on a plain white mailing label and "Frigo" was stamped in the return-address section.

"Who's Frigo?" asked one of the kids.

I had no idea. Since I was in the middle of fixing a meal, I let it sit on the table till I could get to it. A family friend was visiting, and in the course of chit-chatting, setting the table, and eating, I forgot all about it until the meal was over and Bethie handed it to me again. "Aren't you going to see what's inside?"

Oh yeah. I felt in my pocket for my pocketknife, but I had forgotten it that day. Immediately, three other hands slapped pockets with the same results. Finally someone grabbed a knife Dave had made in welding class and slit the packing tape for me.

Released from its bindings, the cardboard relaxed open, revealing a few papers... coupons. I set them aside without really looking at them, and looked under them to find...

a box of 64 Crayola crayons.

What in the world???

There was nothing else in the box.

No packing material. No note. No clue as to the identity of the sender, no reason for the package.

Okay.

We discussed all the possibilities we could think of... a prank gift, a sales gimmick, a rebate I might have sent in 10 years ago and forgotten about, a freebie I might have received since I am an educator... and shrugged it off. No matter, we now have a NEW box of crayons!

What could be more fun than looking into a new box of Crayola crayons? (Sorry, RoseArt fans; we've never liked anything as well as Crayola.) With great anticipation, everyone - even the boys! - watched while I gently slit open the perforation around the front and two sides and folded back the top. Simultaneously everyone sniffed... the waxy aroma of new crayons filled the air. At once, everyone leaned in, focusing on 64 fresh, sharp points of color poking up at us. What fun!

Bethie was the first to notice the birthday cake on the front of the box, advertising that, in celebration of the 50th birthday of the 64-crayon Crayola box, this box featured 8 new Kids' Choice colors. Oooooo, another mystery! What is a "kids' choice" color?

Politely restraining her enthusiasm, Bethie held out her hand and asked, "May I take a look?" and I reluctantly handed over my new box of treasures.

She soon discovered that each of the Kids' Choice crayons sports an off-white label, which made them easier to locate. Pulling out a bright orange one, she read the label aloud.

"Kids' Choice Colors, trademark, inc. By Kids - About Kids. Crayola.com. Fun in the sun. Diversion bajo el sol. Aventure au soleil."

Ignoring her attempts at the foreign pronunciations, we considered. What? No "Burnt Sienna"? No "Orange Red" or "Red Orange"? Not even "Macaroni-and-Cheese?" Just "Fun in the Sun." Bright orange. Fun in the sun. Yeah, it works. Find another, Bethie.

I'm pretty sure that the next crayon she pulled out was fuschia; at least it was a shade of hot pink. But what will the "Kids' Choice" name be? Bethie rolled the crayon in her fingers till she found it. "Famous," she said aloud.

Famous???

Okay. Looked like fuschia to me. But I suppose "fuschia" didn't make it to the Top 10 list of Kids' Choice labels nowadays. It's probably not even in their vocabulary. "Famous." Right. Try another, Bethie.

She pulled out a dark gray. "Pewter," my mind informed me. "Bear hug," my daughter corrected.

We burst out laughing. Bear hug????

The others quickly followed as Bethie lifted each crayon tip, gave it an expert twist, and read the title aloud:

"Best friends" (lilac),
"Giving tree" (dark neon green),
"Super happy" (neon yellow),
"Awesome" (red-orange),
and "Happy ever after" (teal).

Quiet descended as we mentally tried out the names. I pictured myself as a happy little 8-year-old, coloring in a big book on the kitchen table, and asking my cousin to pass "giving tree."

Okay. Whatever! It was time to clear the table.

I stood up and started gathering plates, only to realize that Bethie, my 17-year-old college student, and Jeremiah, our 18-year-old visiting friend, had become involved in a tug-of-war over the crayon box. Bethie thought the crayons ought to be reorganized into horizontal rows of similar hues - dark blue, medium blue, light blue, etc., lined up side-by-side like soldiers, while Miah thought the colors ought to be sorted into sections - blues in this area, greens in that group, reds over there, etc., like flower garden plots.

I laughed. These kids, great friends since birth (does that make them sort of lilac-colored?), were having a super happy moment (yeah, I guess bright yellow works for that), as they worked on their awesome (red-orange? okay) reorganization project. I'm not sure anyone became fuschia-ly famous, but an unexpected package in the mail sparked a fun (bright orange) moment, and we ended Miah's visit with bear hugs. (They weren't pewter-colored bear hugs, but even kids can't get it right all the time!)

So, whatever the source of the mystery, we were glad to have our unexpected surprise. And it brings with it the potential of lots more fun.

Come to think of it, didn't everyone say this was the one night this week we'd all be home together? I'm thinking it's time to dig out the old coloring books and break those new, sharp points in.

"Happy ever after," anyone?

Vagrant Thoughts...

2009-03-04T09:36:00.000-05:00

2009 has been a tough year. And it's only the beginning of March!

I'm not going to try to make much sense this time, just post some random thoughts and quotes. I'm still trying to muddle through right now...

In a search for an image of hope struggling to survive in the midst of hard times, I tried googling for a picture of a crocus blooming in the midst of snow. As you can see, I found it. It's now my laptop background, a constant reminder that spring IS coming... hope still survives...

On the page with the photo, however, I found much more - a blog written by a person who struggles much the same as I do at times... They posted a song, "Anthem," by Leonard Cohen. He's not one of my favorite artists, but these lyrics caught my attention:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.

...And I wondered if part of my struggle is the unnecessary desire to produce the perfect offering.

Perfect.

If only.

And since I can't achieve perfection, why try?

Now THERE's a great recipe for disaster!

My attention was caught by another image in the Google search -

These were the words below it:

beneath the snow, there lie the roses
there's a crack in every heart of stone
an open door that never closes
there's a light to guide you safely home
as time goes by..

Interesting.

Just thoughts I'm chewing on right now.

Wake Me Up in June, Please

2009-03-02T11:07:00.000-05:00

So it's after 11:00 a.m. and we're up to 4 degrees outside!!! Woo-cottonpickin-hoo.

Bethie left this morning for Albany. She was chosen to go represent the college with the dean, a staff member, and another student. I hope she has a blast! Now she'll be able to say she's been somewhere I haven't. Good for her.

Btw, we stopped at the PO on the way to town this morning to pick up the mail (the snow plow killed our mailbox), and Bethie got her grades for the previous term - she made 4.0 GPA again. I guess she was ready for college even with skipping a year of high school!

The Explorer is in the shop (bad U-joint) and the tank (Excursion) has a dead battery, so since Dave doesn't have classes this morning and is on the night shift at work, I borrowed his pickup truck to take Bethie to catch her ride. I'd forgotten how helpless a 2WD pickup is on slippery hills, and I couldn't get it to go into 4WD. So a good time was had by all. I finally made it home safe and sound (it was a little iffy at times), so we'll forgo the detailed description here.

But I think I'm going into hibernation mode. Wake me up in June, please.

25 Random Things About Me That You Really Don't Need to Know...

2009-01-30T15:06:00.000-05:00

I keep getting tagged. By now, some of you should know my life story! This one hit me several times on facebook, so I'll repost it here. Beware: family secrets are about to be unveiled!

The rules: If you read this you have to post 25 Random Things About Yourself Most People Don't Know (or need to know). Then you're supposed to tag everyone you know, including me, so they can do the same thing, and so that I can read your goofy stuff, too. Have fun!

25 Random Things About Me That You Don't Really Need to Know...

1. Ever since I was a child, my favorite colors have been red, white, and blue. The reds and blues can come in shades (as long as they're not orangey or greenish) but the white must be pure white.

2. One of my least favorite animated Disney cartoons is "Snow White." How does she sing so high?? It hurts my throat just listening to her. And who would kiss a dead stranger entombed in glass??? Eww. Creepy.

3. I have very vivid dreams. Consequently sometimes my CHILDREN will tell ME to shut my eyes during a movie! They don't want me running through the house in the middle of the night, trying to escape the bad guys who have invaded my dreams. Again.

4. My mother handmade all of my clothes - including underwear and jackets, but not including socks and shoes - and all of my food (including bread) when I was growing up, besides working a full-time job. She was amazing.

5. My dad was one of my heroes. He loved people. I never doubted his love for me. He led the family in prayer every night before bed. He prayed for me. And his sense of humor was a blast! I miss him immensely.

6. Ever hear the saying that every strong character trait has a down side? My dad's weakness was that he enjoyed visiting with people so much that he'd lose track of time while talking with them. Because of this, we often ate WELL-done Sunday dinners, and he almost made me late for my wedding! We had to rearrange the entire schedule at the last minute!

(PS - I wonder how many people remember that?)

7. Our house was always open to visitors. Some of my favorite childhood memories are of the impromptu jam sessions we'd have in our living room when friends would bring over their musical instruments and we'd all play together. We also always kept out-of-town church visitors (like musical groups or special speakers) at our house overnight, and would stay up till the wee hours of the morning visiting and laughing together. Then Mom would fix a huge southern breakfast for them and we'd all gather for prayer before they left. They all left with smiles and hugs.

8. All of my grandparents came from the south - one from New Orleans, one from Huntsville, AL, and two from the area around Murfreesboro, TN. Both of my parents and my only sibling were born in Washington, DC. I was born in MD. Now I am the only one living north of the Mason-Dixon. *sigh*

9. My best friends during my childhood years were my cousins, partly because they lived with us for a while. I wouldn't trade those memories!

10. I tried to elope with my cousin Scott, but the grandparents heard of it and wouldn't let us. "Cousins can't marry," they told us. "It's illegal. Besides, you don't have permission to cross the street."

11. I despise the taste of Zest soap. Even the smell of it makes me choke. But I learned a very important lesson about not telling lies when I was a very young child!

12. I tasted Zest after my cousin Scott and I had spent our entire nap time decorating my parents' bedroom walls with magazine pictures and glue. When our efforts were not met with the undying gratitude we had anticipated, I told the parents and aunt that it was all his idea and I hadn't had anything to do with it. Right. They didn't believe me, either.

12. Although I did use the mouth-washing form of discipline on my children, I learned on my first try that you don't feel sorry for the poor child afterward and let him wash his mouth out with water. They'll wind up blowing bubbles as they cry, and the sympathy you just showed will evaporate when you can't contain your laughter at the sight. (Sorry, Pete!)

13. Another valuable lesson from childhood was that if you need to get out of the bubble bath to use the "facilities" (since the cousins in the tub with you do NOT appreciate it if you do not make it out in time), you should always dry off thoroughly before using said facility. If you do not dry off first, you will slip right through the toilet seat and end up with your little behind stuck in the toilet. Once you're stuck in this rather uncomfortable - not to say embarrassing - position, helplessly flailing arms and legs over the edge like a strange little octopus fighting to keep from going down the drain, rather than having pity on you and jumping out to rescue you in sympathy, whoever is left in the tub (SCOTT!) will call the entire family (aunt, cousins, siblings, parents) to come view your discomfort with great peals of laughter!

14. I love my cousins anyway. :)

15. I grew up without a TV; consequently I rarely find anything worth watching on it.

16. Some of my favorite summer memories are of family camping trips across the US, or of venturing into DC to listen to the free military band concerts at the steps of the Capitol.

17. I met my husband during a college freshman orientation ice breaker game. All of the girls had to take off their left shoe and throw it into a pile, and the guys had to pick a shoe. Whoever owned the shoe he picked had to be his date for the night, holding hands with him during all of the games. John picked my shoe. Although neither of us was interested in a relationship at that time, we immediately became great friends. (Playing soccer while holding hands with a cute guy is kinda fun!)

18. Although my mother has a room filled with bookcases which are filled with cookbooks, I rarely use a recipe when I cook.

19. Ephesians is my favorite book of the Bible. Or maybe Romans. Hebrews is good, too. And Luke...

20. Words - especially written - are very important to me.

21. I hated grammar in school but aced it anyway. Not sure how that happened.

22. I love to read, but hate most fluffy Christian romance novels. I want something I can sink my teeth into. Consequently, some of my favorite books are Ivanhoe, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Walking Drum by Louis L'Amour (as well as almost anything else he wrote), almost anything by Dee Henderson, and the suspense or mystery books by Davis Bunn. I'm saving Joel Rosenberg's books that I got for Christmas until spring break, when I hopefully will have time to read without putting a book down!

23. Good music is essential to my life. Piano, french horn, cello, and of course all percussion instruments (since I played them), are my favorites to listen to. I still play percussion. The steering wheel is probably my most-played instrument now. (The passengers I have most often have caught on and provide "ching"s for cymbal crashes on cue now!)

24. I am allergic to cats, but have had a dog in the house most of my life.

25. My in-laws have always had cats. Go figure.

An Angry Face and a Happy Cake

2009-01-27T15:18:00.000-05:00

Isn't this a great face??? It cracks me up. I ran across it while researching something on the internet and couldn't help but wonder WHAT in the WORLD put this face on this boy.

Maybe he had some great idea for a wonderful project, and it was thwarted.

Maybe he couldn't get his own way.

Maybe he was just really frustrated by the people in his life.

Come to think of it, I can relate!

This has been one of those days. Actually, January has been one of those months! (I really hope this isn't an omen for the coming year!)

Three separate projects I am working on are stalled.

I can't get the things done I want to get done.

And sometimes I get really frustrated by the people in my life!

Do you suppose the boy in the picture felt better after making that face? Maybe it will work for me...

*scrunching face muscles around nose*

*drawing down eyebrows*

*baring lower teeth*

*growling*

...

and cracking up!

Yep, it made me feel better!

For some reason, that reminds me that I need to update you on the wonders of the 5-minute cake recipe from the previous posting. Cake is such a happy thing... provided it's not smothered in store-bought frosting. But something with the recipe just wasn't quite... right. So we analyzed the final product (of course, like in any good test process, this required repeated experiments), researched, tweaked, and adjusted. Here are the results.

First of all, the men in my life hate digging a cake out of a mug. And if you dump it onto a plate, it wobbles there like a brown, rubbery tower of ... well, never mind. But you sure don't want to eat it after that mental image. EWW.

There was also that rubbery issue. I suspected we were cooking the cake at too high power, researched, and confirmed that our microwave does cook at more than the required 1000 watts when on HIGH setting.

Then there's the kind of eggy flavor. What if we only use an egg white, or half an egg? We could make two cakes at a time (baking separately, though, for this trial run), and split one egg between the two.

Time for more experiments! YES!

Cooking the batter in a bowl instead of a mug proved to be a minor adjustment. So did convincing my son we need to use Level 8 instead of Level 10 on the microwave. Splitting an egg was a different matter!

Even Tim knows that you can't split a raw egg in half right out of the shell. So we broke the egg into an extra bowl and beat it up with a fork... but then it came time to pour half of the beaten egg into one cake bowl and half into the other. Don't do this. That little bugger actually developed a life of its own! It was determined to slither entirely into one bowl, and when thwarted, morphed into a slimy space alien creature right out of an old Calvin & Hobbes comic strip, and splashed all over the floor. UGH. Even the dog wasn't happy with that mess.

So - rather than giving up and just using an egg white, we got the brainy idea of beating up a new egg with a fork in the abandoned bowl, then taking a soup spoon and dishing out one spoonful at a time into the two separate cake batter bowls. THAT worked. HA! We beat the egg, We divided, We conquered! Julius Ceasar should be so victorious.

The adjustments really helped. The end result was two fluffy, non-rubbery, non-eggy tasting dome-shaped cakes when dumped out onto a small plate. Nice. I'm thinkin' the boy in the picture needed a piece of it!

But what if you're craving a quick cakey snack but - perish the thought - don't want chocolate? I do have some friends who can get enough chocolate, and although I don't pretend to understand them, I'm willing to try to accommodate their taste preferences. (Leaves more chocolate for me!)

Time to research and experiment some more! (There goes the New Year's diet.)

So here's what we found on the internet. We tried the Peanut Butter Chocolate Cake and found it deeeelicious! The only down side - once you invest the energy into making two of these cakes, you might as well make a whole regular cake and cook it in the regular oven! But that takes some of the fun out of it, don't you think?

We haven't tried the Jello Cake or Spice Cake recipes yet, so if you try them, you'll have to let us know how they turn out.

Peanut Butter and Chocolate 5-Minute Cake

Ingredients
4 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
2 Tablespoons peanut butter (add more if you want)
1/8 Teaspoon baking powder
1 Egg white (or half an egg)
4 Tablespoons milk (or soy milk)
1 Tablespoon vegetable oil (or unsweetened applesauce)
1/4 Teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 Cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 Microwave-safe bowl or mug

Instructions
Mix flour, sugar and baking powder
Mix in egg white
Add in milk, peanut butter, oil and vanilla, and mix well
Put in microwave for 2.5 minutes (add 30 sec if necessary) on 1000 watts
Wait until it stops rising and sets in the bowl/mug

Jello 5-Minute Cake

Ingredients
4 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
1 Teaspoon sugar-free jello powder, any flavor
1/8 Teaspoon baking powder
1 Egg white
3 Tablespoons milk (or soy milk)
1 Tablespoon vegetable oil
1 Heaping tablespoon unsweetened applesauce
1/4 Teaspoon vanilla extract
1 Microwave-safe bowl or mug

Instructions
Mix flour, sugar, jello and baking powder
Mix in egg white
Pour in milk, oil, applesauce and vanilla, and mix well
Put in microwave for 2.5 minutes (add 30 sec if necessary) on 1000 watts
Wait until it stops rising and sets in the bowl/mug

Spicy 5-Minute Cake

Ingredients
4 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
2 Teaspoons spice (cinnamon, ginger, whatever you like. Add more/less if you want)
1/8 Teaspoon baking powder
1 Egg white
3 Tablespoons milk (or soy milk)
2 Tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 Teaspoon vanilla extract
1 Microwave-safe bowl or mug

Instructions
Mix flour, sugar, spice and baking powder
Mix in egg white
Pour in milk, oil and vanilla, and mix well
Put in microwave for 2.5 minutes (add 30 sec if necessary) on 1000 watts
Wait until it stops rising and sets in the bowl/mug

Have fun! And don't forget to let us know your results!

This Week's Second Favorite: The Most Dangerous Cake in the World!

2009-01-21T13:00:00.000-05:00

I discovered this week's second favorite yesterday afternoon.

Tim and I had finished our schoolwork, and he decided to make lunch (cheddar-chicken ramen noodles - yum!). We ate together on the couch, discussing the inauguration ceremony. Then when he asked if I wanted anything else, I told him I wanted just a little something sweet and chocolatey. He thought a moment and then jumped up and left the room. I thought he was going to raid his "secret" stash of chocolate candy for me, but he didn't come back for a while, so I went looking for him.

He was running back and forth between the computer and the kitchen, making me a "surprise!"

This is what it turned out to be:

5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE

1 coffee mug

4 tablespoons flour (that's plain flour, not self-rising)

4 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons baking cocoa

1 egg

3 tablespoons milk

3 tablespoons oil

3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)

Small splash of vanilla

Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well.

Add the egg and mix thoroughly.

Pour in the milk and oil and mix well.

Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla, and mix again.

Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts.

The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!

Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.

EAT! (this can serve 2 if you want to share!)

Tim slathered peanut butter over the top, and it melted and drizzled down into the airholes of the cake in ooey-gooey goodness. It was far too rich for one serving, though. He ate the top half, then gave me the rest. It was delicious!

And why is this the most dangerous cake recipe in the world?

Because now we are all only 5 minutes away from chocolate cake at any time of the day or night!

This Week's First Favorite: A Phone Call. A Gem. A Reminder.

2009-01-21T12:50:00.000-05:00

Looking back through old blog postings reminded me of the fun I used to have posting weekly "favorites." They gave me something good to look for each week and something to write about while keeping in touch with my friends and family. The former smiles returned as I looked back over these seemingly inconsequential moments of my life.

Vagrant thought: How can any moment that brings a smile be inconsequential?

Somehow in the dry spell I've been traversing, I've lost sight of the wonder of looking for the bright spots. And I've decided it's time to do that again. And guess what! No sooner did I start looking for blessings than I started noticing them everywhere! Amazing how that works.

So the #1 Favorite of this week so far would have to be the unexpected, totally out-of-the-blue long-distance phone call I received this morning. It put a giggle in my voice, a sparkle in my eyes, and a huge grin on my face that has lasted a few hours now. Not so amazing, because that phone call brought me a visit with my old college friend, SueSam, pictured here.

Don't ask about her nickname. It was a college thing. I could explain it, but suffice it to say that it's one of the links that still connects us after 20-some years.

Ask me instead what it is about this particular person that always brings a smile to my face.

Unfortunately, I can't explain that. She's bubbly and funny and serious and thoughtful and kind and outgoing and introspective and a gem in my life.

I have a few such gems, a handful of enduring bright spots in my life, each one harking back to days of long ago, each one more precious to me than any earthly treasure.

They bring to mind the song we often hear during this month - Should old acquaintance be forgot?

No.

No!

A thousand times NO!

I don't do New Year's Resolutions, but if I were to make one this year, it would be to keep in better touch with the gems in my life. For as another song reminds us:

Make new friends, but keep the old... One is silver and the other gold.

Proud to Be an American

2009-01-20T13:50:00.000-05:00

Today, as part of our homeschooling, we watched the inauguration ceremony of America's 44th president.

And today I am so proud to be an American.

How do the song lyrics go?

I'm just a flag-waving American,

A citizen I'm really proud to be!

I'm just a flag-waving American,

Liberty-loving, red-white-and-blue variety.

I love to sing --- of Dixie Land! ---

and Yankee Doodle;

I thrill to see Old Glory flying high!

O, I'm just a flag-waving American,

Who believes there's no better land beneath the sky!

Sorry - couldn't lie - we don't sing "The Battle Hymn" in our house. But you can. I'm okay with that... because I am so thankful to be part of this wonderful nation.

The inaugural ceremony never fails to thrill my soul, no matter who I voted for the previous November. The ceremony itself is a symbol of something far greater than any man, more vast than any political party. It represents a belief in the right of man to govern himself, under God, as he sees fit. What an amazing opportunity we have!

The words of another great song run through my head...

While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,

Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free,

Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,

As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer.

God bless America, land that I love;

Stand beside her and guide her

through the night with the light from above.

From the mountains

to the prairies

to the oceans

white with foam,

God bless America, my home, sweet home!

God bless America, my home, sweet home!

I'll save the critique of why songs like this can be sung and prayers can be prayed during a national ceremony - but are barred from public schoolrooms - for a later time. Right now I'm just proud to be an American.

Connections

2009-01-19T10:14:00.000-05:00

First of all, happy Robert E. Lee Day! As soon as the kids haul themselves out of bed, we're planning to celebrate with a big pot of cheesy grits. Maybe we'll throw in some diced ham, too.

I wish I could get out of the house today, but my lungs tend to get unhappy with me when I expose them to single-digit temperatures. Since it's only up to three degrees right now, I think I'll hibernate a few more days! But if I could go out, I'd stop at the county library and check out an old book I discovered a few years ago - it's pictured here on my coffee table. See the antique look of it? The cover really is fraying cloth, and the pages smell like they're centuries old. The fact is, what's written on the pages IS over a century old! It's a collection of the letters written by Robert E. Lee, compiled by his son. What a treasure! They reveal who the man really was, as he expresses in his own words his love for his wife and children, his up days and down days, his struggles and his faith. I'd love to curl up with a cup of tea and browse through it today.

For some reason it's been really hard to post lately. Just running through a dry spot, I suppose. I never even got a Christmas letter written this year for the first time in ages! I hate feeling disconnected, but sometimes I wonder what the purpose of writing these things is in the first place... Christmas letters and blog posts seem to run the gamut of either appearing to brag about all the wonderful superlatives in our lives, or to vent all the disappointments. Probably neither one is a true picture; reality is somewhere in between.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not condemning anyone for writing about the highs and lows of their lives. Not at all. I really enjoy reading what my friends have written. I just temporarily - I hope! - misplaced the reason for it in my own life.

So the lack of purpose for writing has been churning in the back of my brain lately, and this morning at o-dark-thirty when I was fixing my hubby's breakfast and lunch-to-go, that lack of purpose collided with the thought of the man our family chooses to celebrate today, Robert E. Lee. I won't say anything derogatory about Martin Luther King, Jr. - he accomplished some good things - but I think if I wanted a hero, Robert E. Lee would be a lot closer to someone I want to emulate. He was staunch in his beliefs, straight as an arrow in his morals, and loving, gentle, and humorous with the people around him. He connected with them.

Even more intriguing is the fact that not only did he connect with the people he touched daily, his writings and example touch people's lives today. Back in the mid-1800s when he wrote something seemingly mundane in a letter to his family, he had no idea that someone like me would be reading it over a hundred and fifty years later, mulling it over, responding to those ancient words...

Personally, I don't expect anyone to be reading my blog musings in a month-and-a-half, much less a century-and-a-half! But it gives a different perspective on connections, doesn't it? What you and I write today or tomorrow may seem insignificant to us, but who knows what person it may touch, what soul it may affect, what life it may bring sorrow or joy to?

I don't know that this thought, in itself, will restore my enthusiasm for blogging... but it's definitely added a different view to it. And for those of you who enjoy connecting with me through my inconsequential postings, thanks for hanging in there with me through the dry spots. Yours are the connections I truly appreciate.

Addicted

2008-11-10T13:32:00.000-05:00

Here I sit at 4 a.m., contemplating oxygen.

And in the dark stillness of the night, I have discovered an appalling fact regarding myself.

It’s true. No matter how vociferously I deny it, the fact remains.

I am addicted to oxygen!

I suspect I am not alone. And, like others, I don’t have any desire to overcome this particular addiction. What I’d like to overcome is the asthma which keeps me from drawing enough oxygen into my lungs. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem possible at this present time, so here I sit in the middle of the night, sipping a cup of herbal tea and pondering the process of breathing which most humans take for granted.

Breathing is supposed to be one of those involuntary reflexes people don’t need to consciously guide. Even those of us with asthma don’t think about every breath we take, just the ones we struggle for. If everything is working right, our lungs automatically expel a mixture of carbon dioxide and other gases, then expand to take in life-giving oxygen. This oxygen then travels throughout our bodies, giving life and healing to every cell of every organ. Without the oxygen, cells start to die, thinking becomes fuzzy, organs slow down and cease to function.

Did you ever wonder how this wonderful system of air circulation originated?

Evolutionists would have us believe that humans started as slimy creatures which crawled out of the mud which came from somewhere, developed lungs out of something, and automatically started gasping the air which had spontaneously originated from somewhere.

Far easier to believe is the Genesis account of creation:

Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground
And breathed the breath of life into his nostrils,
And the man became a living being.
~Genesis 2:7 (CSB)

Man’s original breath came directly from the Creator God! That thought amazes me. God breathed life-giving air into Adam, then Adam breathed, and every living being from then until now has had lungs which automatically expand to pull in the precious breath of life.

The prophet Daniel, in his rebuke to King Belshazzar, refers to

“…the God who holds your life-breath in His hand
And who controls the whole course of your life.”
~Daniel 5:23

God holds my life-breath in His hand. What a comforting thought.

But the “breath of life” does not merely exist in the physical realm. Spiritually, people are dead in their trespasses and sins until they accept God’s free gift of salvation and become alive in Christ (Romans 6:11). At that point, the Holy Spirit begins to breathe life into their spirit until they are “strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man… so that [they] may be filled with the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:16-19). God, who saw in His newly-created man the need for physical life, also saw in us the need for spiritual life and invented spiritual CPR!

God’s Holy Spirit can breathe spiritual life into me in such a way that I will become a new person, alive to God and dead to sin. Amazing.

The English rector and Oxford scholar Edwin Hatch must have also been intrigued by the idea, for he penned the words to the beloved old hymn, Breathe on Me, Breath of God.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
Fill me with life anew,
That I may love what Thou dost love,
And do what Thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
Until my heart is pure,
Until with Thee I will one will,
To do and to endure.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
Blend all my soul with Thine,
Until this earthly part of me
Glows with Thy fire divine.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
So shall I never die,
But live with Thee the perfect life
Of Thine eternity.

"Breathe on me."

Breath is such an intimate thing, isn’t it? You have to really love someone in order to not mind feeling their breath on you. But I still can’t imagine asking someone to breathe on me.

Unless it is God Himself, the originator of life, the One who has redeemed my soul and given me new life in Christ, the One who can make me a new person, alive in Christ and dead to sin. His breath of spiritual life is something I need to be addicted to.

Breathe on me, Breath of Life.

Please.

Articulation

2008-10-31T12:07:00.000-04:00

At the top of this page I defined articulate not only as being able to express oneself clearly, but also as having joints. And although I have been accused of being a random thinker, the joints between my thoughts are completely clear... to me, at least! The challenge lies in articulation, joining them in such a way that they are clear to others, also.

"Articulated" is a word that has always fascinated me. For one thing, it just sounds cool. To prove my point, try this: say "articulated" aloud.

Now do it again, only louder.

Come on, lose those inhibitions and shout it!

See? People are looking at you. It just sounds cool. (We won't go into the real reasons people stare at you.) And we just proved that if you can say words that sound cool, you get more attention. Well, maybe that's not exactly what we proved with our little experiment, but it is true. Each baby, mouthing the sounds "da da" and "ma ma," immediately learns that making the right noises gains positive feedback. A few years later, about the time they reach Kindergarten, children try the same process with words they've heard on the bus and quickly learn that making the wrong noises gains extremely negative feedback! So they choose to say good words, cool words, words that sound like they mean something new or important.

But not only does the word "articulated" sound great when you say it (provided you're not saying it loudly enough to annoy your coworkers), it is also applied to many interesting objects. A quick Google image search of the word shows photos of an articulated bus, an articulated crane, articulated trucks and tractors, and even an articulated retractable mount in case you want to attach your TV to your wall. I'm not sure why you would want your TV attached to your wall, except that it would make it harder to steal. Unless a thief broke into your house and took out the entire wall with his articulated crane, that is. But there have gotta be easier ways of stealing TVs.

So where has all this articulation led us?

Not to stealing TVs. We are not advocating thievery here. Nor are we advertizing for a certain type of bus, crane, truck, tractor, or other machine. We did make a subtle plug for Google searches, but that was mere prudence, since you just can't plug yahoo on a Google-sponsored site. Besides, I like Google better. I do. Really.

The point, I believe, is that articulation is not just a cool word or type of machine, but it is also an important concept, a tool to be used for achieving a specific purpose. Articulation takes two or more separate items and joins them together to accomplish something bigger than could have been completed by either object alone. Whether you are joining parts of a crane together or stringing words in a chain to carry meaningful thought, articulation gets the job done.

In my own life I see examples of the benefits of articulation every day. When my schedule is joined to or coordinated with that of my spouse, we end up with fewer conflicts. When I clearly join words together to convey meaning to my children, we understand each other better and achieve more. And most important of all, when I keep my own will firmly joined to the Heavenly Father's through a living relationship with His Son, Jesus Christ, my life becomes much more profitable as I grow and learn and function as He would have me do.

Articulation. It’s not just a cool sounding word for interesting machines, it’s also a vital tool for accomplishing things in my everyday life.