Friday Favorite: The Whole Family Together Again

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

 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

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

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

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

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

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.