The Warrior Queen With The Filter Queen

For some reason or another, I feel as though I should want to write A Very Heartfelt Post, full of Emotion and Great Wisdom to bid the old year adieu and welcome in 2007. But I'm not really one for doing what is expected of me. I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to be a bit on the rebellious side.

And yes, I also believe that qualifies me for The Understatement of the Year Award for 2006.

Instead, I have decided to regale you with distant memories of years past.

(In case you're wondering, NOW would be the time to politely take your leave of the room, because these next few paragraphs could prove to be the type of thing which would cause you to fall asleep at the computer. I would be sadly remiss in my duties as Your Blog Host if I did not tell you of said consequences. Consider yourself warned.)

A-HEM...

Many, many years ago, back when I was a child, we moved into the house where my mother still lives. It was a fixer-upper, which was all my parents could afford at the time, and I remember it being in a constant state of remodeling. The garage became a bedroom and a laundry room. A basement was dug out from under the house. The kitchen was moved from one end of the house to where the laundry room was, and the bedroom became the dining room. The old kitchen became my sister's room. The old dining room was merged with the living room.

A patio was poured, as were walkways, a driveway, steps, and porches. New wordwork replaced all the old woodwork in the house. There was no end to wallpapering and painting and staining and tiling and varnishing and tablesaws and sawdust and boards and nails. and concrete. At least from the time I was five until I moved out of the house, and even then it continued.

Because of the constant disarray of certain parts of the house at different times, we tended to have a problem with mice. Now, normally I was left out of any mouse-type discussion, because it was well known that I have a fear of rodents that has no equal. Just looking at the little beady-eyed, long-tailed varmints makes my skin crawl and a scream of utter terror and disgust rise in my throat. I can't even look at a dead one without getting the heebie-jeebies. As with other hereditary traits I carry, I came by this naturally.

Mom can't stand mice. They scare her to death. However, that never keeps her from defending her children and humble abode against them whenever they attack. And defend it she does. Like a veritable Warrior Queen.

To give you just a bit of background, Mom is all of five feet one. Soaking wet she might possibly weigh one hundred ten pounds, IF she had just consumed half a ham and a ten pound bag of potatoes for lunch. All this to say she does not resemble the run-of-the-mill Warrior Queen, unless said Warrior Queen was of the Munchkin variety. However, even as small as she is, she is still one hundred times larger than any rodent who might dare invade her home. It's just hard for her to remember that.

One night after the kitchen had just been moved from one end of the house to the other, Mom saw a dark streak go across the kitchen floor. Now, being the clean freak that she is and always has been, Mom just happened to have the brand-new Filter Queen vacuum cleaner in her hand at the time, vacuuming the linoleum. (Don't even ask...I can't begin to explain it.)

Armed to the teeth with the wand of her vacuum cleaner, she ran over to where the mouse was and started to try to suck him up, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs and stamping her feet on the floor at the same time. She scared us so much we climbed up on the dining room chairs to escape the possibilty of being eaten by the intruder, and started screaming and stamping our feet as well. It's a wonder the poor mouse didn't die of heart failure right then and there. Instead, he decided to beat feet out of there, and ran under the dishwasher.

Not to be outdone, Our Heroine pried the front panel off of the dishwasher and stuck the wand of the still-running vacuum cleaner underneath it. She kept screaming and stamping and vacuuming and screaming and stamping and vacuuming until she heard the vacuum hit paydirt.

The mouse had been sucked up by the Filter Queen.

To ensure our safety, the Warrior Queen did what any good Hunter of Rodents would do...she stuffed a wadded-up paper towel in the end of the vacuum cleaner wand after she turned it off to keep the mouse inside in case he decided to crawl out.

Because, as we all know, mice cannot possibly chew through paper towels. That is, if they survive having their lungs sucked out by the all-powerful Filter Queen in the first place.

After Dad got home he emptied the vacuum cleaner bag and replaced it, because even though it may be dead, one does not want to deal with a mouse unless one must. The screaming and stamping eventually stopped, and all went back to whatever degree of normal it was that our household enjoyed.

This is a story which will forever remain in our family history, to be passed down from generation to generation. It is our heritage.

And Mom will never live it down.

So here's a little comedy for you to enjoy as we end this year. May the blessings of the Lord fall on you like rain all of 2007 long, and may you remember to take time out to enjoy the laughter and joy that God provides us, free of charge, just by living the life He's given us.

Psalm 126:2
We celebrated with laughter and joyful songs. In foreign nations it was said, "The LORD has worked miracles for his people."

Happy New Year from all of us in the

Singer household!

The Guy In The White Hat Wins

I am not a perfect person.

While I know many of you are staring at the screen with your mouths hanging open in disbelief at this very moment, please let me assure you that this statement is entirely true. Really. Because even though I do commit many sins each and every day, the one sin I try to avoid like the plague is lying.

And please, close your mouths.

And so, realizing my imperfections are very real, I've decided to list them for you, and for me, in hopes that once outed they will have no place to hide. Then I'm hoping to spray them with God's grace until they wither and die. Of course, they won't die completely until I croak or the Lord returns, but I figure I can take a lick at a snake because that's better than not even trying.

So, without further ado, here's my list:

I Am Not Great At...

1. Obedience
   
2. Forgiveness
   
3. Listening to what God has to say
   
4. Keeping a clean and organized home
   
5. Losing and keeping weight off
   
6. Exercising
   
7. Keeping my mouth shut
   
8. Patience
   
9. Self-control, especially where anger is concerned
   
10. Loving the unlovable
    
11. Daily devotions
    
12. Discipline
    
13. Consistency
    
14. Overcoming my stubborn nature
    
15. Admitting my faults
    
16. Basing my self-worth in God Almighty rather than in what I believe people may think
    

And I'm sure there are many more that I haven't listed.

Many, MANY more.

But you get the general idea. That list alone is enough to make a grown woman down a one-pound bag of M&Ms in mere minutes. Which reminds me that I forgot to add "overcoming gluttony."

Now, there's no way on earth I'm ever going to get all of those things under control by myself. Not in this lifetime. There's no way all of those things will magically change to the positive. It just ain't gonna happen.

But here's the deal...

With God's help, little by little, bit by bit, I can win a battle here and a battle there. With His help I can overcome part of the problems now, and part of them later. Eventually I may even get rid of many of the items on the list.

But if I quit trying, I lose the war.

And if I lose, guess who wins? The guy in the black hat. Y'all know him. He's the one with the horns and pitchfork.

So, as 2007 dawns, you'll see me fighting the good fight. By the end of the year I may be bloodied and scarred, but I'll be the victor no matter what, because God is on my side.

And we all know who wins in the end.

1 Timothy 6:12
Fight the good fight for the true faith. Hold tightly to the eternal life to which God has called you, which you have confessed so well
before many witnesses. (New Living Translation)

I Come By It Naturally

Heredity is something I do not now, nor ever will understand.


I know that I got my height, all Five-Feet-Four-and-One-Half-Inches of it, from my mother's side of the family. We're little, but we're MIGHTY.

And I got my girth, all One-Hundred-and-You're-Nuts-If-You-Think-I'm-Actually-Going-to-Confess-How-Much-More from my father's side of the family. Let's just say that I'm about as wide as I am tall and leave it at that.

Another thing that was passed down from Mom's side of the family was a tendency toward what we politely call a "weak stomach." You may have heard the phrase "gag at a gnat and swallow a camel" at some point. For Mom, Sister and me, it becomes "gag at a gnat and anything else you can think of." Let me elaborate.

Whenever anyone even mentions or even thinks about mentioning anything that has to do with certain substances one would eliminate from one's nose when one has a cold, our reflexes set in. With a vengeance. The word "sn_t" is not even in my vocabulary. Really.

A few years ago, Mom and Sister read Frank McCourt's first book. In it, there's a part where the father has to perform a suction of sorts on the baby's nose to keep it from suffocating. (Honest to Pete, I'm suffering regurgitative spasms just thinking about it.) They both tried to explain it to me, but neither of them could because they kept gagging between words. I laughed and laughed at them. Then I read it for myself.

No comedic sketch would ever be able to do it justice.

I found myself gagging as well, but I couldn't put the book down. So I'd read a line or two, gag a while, read a line or two, gag some more, read a line, gag....you get the picture.

I am nothing if not addicted to good literature.

It actually becomes quite embarrassing at times. A friend of mine once told me a story of when he was a child. He and his sister were always at odds growing up. One day he came home from school and saw a cookie on the floor next to his sister, who was watching television at the time. He asked her if he could have it, and without turning her head she told him he could. He scooped it up in his hand, preparing to take a big bite.

That was when he found out the dog had vomited on the floor.

When he told me this, I literally could not stop. The retching, it could be heard for miles.

I could regale you with more stories of this weakness, but in the interest of my own physical well-being, I will not. Suffice it to say that the entertainment value of this trait cannot be measured in mere currency.

And then I had children.

For some reason, God, in His Infinite Wisdom, gave me some much-needed grace. I found myself able to deal with any and all of the gory details of raising children without losing my lunch. I could change diapers of any sort, wipe runny noses, even clean up puke - without tossing my cookies. It was amazing. But it only works with small babies and my children.

God knew that the little beings entrusted to my care needed me to be strong for them. He knew that I couldn't do it on my own, so He gave me the ability to handle what I never thought I could. It was a gift, pure and simple.

Even though I still suffer from the "weak stomach syndrome" I can tell you this: God is good. He provides. He makes us strong in weakness. I never really understood the verse that way before, but I can tell you it's true.

It's our inheritance from Him.

2 Corinthians 12:10

That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Can You Hear Me Now?**

You just can't keep a good girl down. Or me either.

I am back from the doctor's office with a fist full of prescriptions, both for me and for Hubster. I have one of those wonderful doctors who actually believes I know what I'm talking about.

Imagine that.

I told him I had an ear infection, and he concurred with my diagnosis...after checking it out to be sure. I told him I had a sinus infection. He agreed. I told him I was starting to get bronchitis, and that got the nod as well.

I mean really...after almost...uh...39 plus 11 years of living in this body, I think I should know a thing or five about it. I am so very thankful to have a doctor who trusts my judgement...to a point.

I told him Hubster had the same thing, and that he said for Doc to double up on all the meds so we could both take them. Since he knows Hubster well, he agreed. I walked out with prescriptions for antibiotics for both of us, but he said we had to share the cough syrup with codeine. My response?

"IN YOUR DREAMS, MEDICINE MAN."

For some reason, he was not amused at my response. Probably because it had to do with A Controlled Substance. He told me to go home, drink plenty of fluids, and rest.

So I went to the pharmacy, then home for refills for the checkbook, then to the bank, then to pick up the prescriptions, then to Wendy's with Daughter to get our lunch, then home to eat it and take the first doses of medicine, then to A Local Hardware Warehouse to buy a new faucet for the sink, then to Another Local Hardware Warehouse of a Different Color, and finally to the Third Local Hardware Warehouse, where I purchased said faucet after bargaining them down $20.

Which you can SO do, if you've a mind. Even if they are a Huge National Chain. But that's another post altogether.

Which brings us to the concept of obedience. I have a very hard time with that one.

Betcha couldn't tell, eh?

Because right now my ear is screaming and I've lost almost all of my voice. Why? Because I did what I thought was more important than what the doctor said to do. I had running to do, and I still do, and I don't want to take time out to baby this stuff.

Which brings us back to rebellion.

"I don't want to and you can't MAKE me!"

Can't you just hear God laughing at me right now? I think I could, even with a bum ear, if I'd actually LISTEN instead of bulling my way through this. He has a way of changing my disobedience and rebellion to obedience and submission. And if He has to push a little to get me there, it ain't fun.

So tonight I'm making soup, getting my jammies on and doing exactly what the Doc Man said. I'm gonna rest, drink a lot of clear liquids, go to bed early and get up late. Just what the Good Doctor and Great Physician ordered.

And you can't MAKE me disobey, 'cause I'm LISTENING now.

1 Samuel 12:14
If you fear the LORD and serve and obey him and do not rebel against his commands, and if both you and the king who reigns over you follow the LORD your God - good!

**That's for you, Kim!

Some Cheese With My Whine

Here it is, 3:30 ayem in the morning, and I am unable to sleep. The cold thing has turned into the earache thing. It is, in a word, unfun. Due to that, I decided to spend some quality time with you, my closest friends, telling you of the wondrous happenings, the magical events, the glorious undertakings of this mortal life.

Yeah. Um...yeah. Well, then.

Last night we un-decorated the tree. Hubster chopped off the branches and we had the yearly burn-it-in-the-fireplace-without-catching-anyone's-house-on-fire ritual that we observe every year. We sent Son outside to watch the emissions of the chimney to make sure none of the RED HOT EMBERS that were flying out of said brick ediface landed and began to start a flaming inferno on top of our or someone else's roof. Because, as you may or may not know, we live in the Land of Shake Shingles.

You'll be happy to know that no one had to evacuate.

We raked up the carpet, then took the Kirby to the remainder. I do indeed love me that Kirby. One of the best investments we've ever made, that. A veritable wonder, even if it did cost us our firstborn son.

And since I cannot go out of town without the risk of infecting the World As We Know It with the cold from Hot Places Down Under, the new plan is to actually shampoo the carpet during this week of vacation. And hang drapes. And repaint the hallway.

Uh-huh. All THAT'S gonna happen. SURE it is.

Right after I take a nap or sixteen. Because as we all know, I am the Queen of Procrastination. And as such, it is my job - nay, my DUTY, to procrastinate as long as possible the tasks which I find unpleasant. And I do it oh, so very well.

Besides, I'm sick.

Which is exactly why Daughter chose today to have a Jeans Crisis. Her favorite pair of jeans ripped out in the knee, and so it was imperative we make a trip to the mall to replace said jeans. Absolutely imperative. On the day after Christmas.

Did I mention that I don't feel really well?

Three hours and one hot toddy later, I fell into bed. This is probably a good thing, because as you can tell it is now 3:49 ayem in the morning, and I'm still up. However, the ear drops are now starting to work, even though it would take dynamite for me to be able to breathe through my nose.

So I'm going to bed. Don't wake me until this is over, please? Not the Whine-O-Gram I've just written, but the cold.

Because in case I haven't mentioned it, I hate being sick.

Exodus 23:25
You must serve only the Lord your God. If you do, I will bless you with food and water, and I will protect you from illness.

The Morning After

The ship is going down.

I am sick.

Ill.

Under the weather.

The cold Hubster has had for the past two weeks has now found a new home in the pit of my chest and nasal area.

I woke up this morning with one of those coughs that comes from way deep and explodes in your dry, parched, aching throat, and I've been doing that all day.

I have no voice, and my sinuses are clogged to the point of explosion. We won't even BEGIN to talk about the bad breath. Breathing is a chore. My eyes are bleary and achy, much like my muscles and joints, and all I want to do is be in bed with my nice, warm heated mattress pad and tea with honey (and maybe a shot of something stronger - for medicinal purposes only, mind you) served to me on a silver platter. I'd also like to listen to an audiobook that I don't have to think about, and hey...while you're up would you go pee for me as well? I'm too tired to move.

Thank You, God.

Thank You that I didn't get this before Christmas. Thank You that I'm on vacation for the next week and have time to recover. Thank You that I'll most likely be over it before the big half-century celebration in two weeks. Thank You (and Mom) for the wonderful, soft, warm, fluffy, comfortable robe I'm wearing right now.

Thank You, God.

Thank You for letting Hubster get this before I did, so he might gain a bit of sympathy for the people he gave it to. Thank You for Sudafed, cough syrup with codeine, humidifiers, box fans to drown out the noise, soft beds, rest, and the love of those around me.

Thank You, God.

Thank You for all the gifts received yesterday, especially the reminder of the Most Important Gift. Thank You for Christmas being OVER. Thank You that we now have time. Time to spend rebuilding our finances, loving one another, serving You.

For this and oh, so much more....

Thank You.

1 Chronicles 16:8
Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done.

1 Chronicles 16:34
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.

The Perfect Christmas

It's Christmas Eve.

In my perfect world, all of the presents have been purchased. All are gaily wrapped in bright paper with streaming bows, and set beneath the towering, perfectly decorated tree. The house is, of course, spotless. It smells of fresh-baked cookies, hot chocolate and peppermint. Christmas is evident throughout my home in the perfectly-placed decorations, up to and including the towels in the bathroom. The outside of my home tastefully declares the season in its perfectly strung lights which outline the structures, and in the lights which declare the "Reason for the Season" as lighted reindeer peacefully graze on the lawn.

The perfect Santa will come down my chimney tonight. He will be dressed in perfectly clean red velvet trimmed in white ermine. There will be no jingle bells on my Santa; no plaid shirt, no gold trim. This is MY Santa, and he is perfect.

Snow is falling in my perfect world. Loads and loads of snow. Enough to impede driving just a bit, and enough to come up past your knees if you walk in my perfect yard. Of course, you aren't allowed to do that, because it would mess up my perfect, snow-laden landscape.

My family will dress in perfect Christmas finery as we head out the door to our perfect church this evening. We will sing carols along the way there, then enter with flushed faces and sit to listen with rapt attention as the preacher once again tells of the perfect Christmas. Perfect organ music plays as the candlelight provides the only means of illumination. The church, with its perfect stained-glass windows, is laden with fresh pine boughs and holly. The smells of candles and pine mix together to form a heavenly scent which only adds to the holiness of the occasion.

After the service we will travel home to dine on standing rib roast, fresh vegetables and holiday goodies at our perfect dining room table. We will enjoy pleasant conversation, enhanced by the candlelight and warmth of our home. At midnight the children will be allowed to open one gift of our choice. It will be a pair of warm, flannel pajamas, and my children will thank us profusely for such wondrous gifts as these. After enjoying cookies and hot chocolate, they will brush their teeth and head off to bed to dream of the next morning.

This is my perfect Christmas Eve. (insert smiles and sighs of wonder here)

Then there's reality.

Today is Christmas Eve.

We still have at least four presents to buy before the stores close. The children have been wrapping gifts in a forced-child-labor sort of way, so we're not really picky as to how they look. Consequently, we're happy if (a) paper covers all visible areas of the gift, and (b) all of the paper covering the gift matches. As long as it isn't applied with super glue, we figure we're home free.

Presents will be placed under the haphazardly decorated tree, accomplished by more child labor. We were proud to even get the tree up at least two weeks before Christmas, and we'll be prouder still to burn it immediately following Christmas. It has a bit of a starboard list to it at the moment, but that won't affect its ability to infect us with Christmas cheer. It makes it all the more lovable.

The house is a mess, but that's only normal. The door decoration and the lone Santa on the front porch are the only signs that we actually know Christmas is on the way. Since it was somewhere around 56 degrees in the shade today, snow is a laughable thought. Church services were held tonight, but we were too engrossed in final preparations to attend. Instead, we had our own little service before sitting down to a dinner of tough, dried-out roast, frozen vegetables and leftover cookies from the baking I did earlier in the week.

The children may or may not open a gift before they go to bed. To be honest, there just aren't that many gifts under the tree this year, and to open one would mean less for them to open tomorrow morning. In lieu of gifts, Hubster and I will be giving each other a warm handshake and a hearty pat on the back.

But guess what? Our Christmas will still be perfect.

Because it isn't about all of the things above.

It's about love.

The love that God had for us when He sent His Son to this earth. The love we have for our children. The love our family has for each other. The love we show to others.

It's about love.

And that's the perfect way to celebrate the perfect Christmas.

With love.

1 John 4:7-12
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. (NIV)

Merry Christmas, with love, from the whole Singer family!

Shamelessly Stolen YouTube

Isn't it amazing what God can do with simple human beings?

Merry Christmas, y'all!

Three Little Words

If I’ve learned one thing during this life God has given me, it is this:

The words “I LOVE YOU” are some of the most beautiful in human language.

Regardless of whether they are uttered in English or any other tongue on this earth, they are what sustain us. They give us a reason to keep living life. They give us the will to continue trying. They are the words we long to hear, the ones we long to believe, because they alone give us worth.

And they are the words we miss the most.

As a mom, I remember the times my children were small. Those were both the best and the worst of times. There were diapers and crying and throwing up and sleepless nights…and the kids gave us problems, too. But some things were constant. My children loved me with the pure, unquestioning love of a child. They wanted to cuddle, they wanted to be held, and they wanted to spend time with me. They needed me.

That was then. This is now.

At 13 and 15 years of age, my youngest children are no longer in diapers. They don’t wake up in the middle of the night needing comfort. They don’t like to be held, kissed, or snuggled. As a matter of fact, I count it a major accomplishment nowadays when I get them to speak in complete sentences to me. Hormones are raging; everything that happens is tantamount to making or breaking YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, and one pimple can ruin your social status FOREVER.

At this stage, parents have few good points. They are nothing more than a mode of transportation and funds. They are brainless, old-fashioned, and overly strict. Parents are put on earth to embarrass their children. These are well-known facts.


Yes, this is a stage. They will eventually grow out of it, and mature into adults that I hope will come to value the bond we have. They will learn to say those words I long to hear once again, but the meaning will be different. The “I love you” will come as a conscious decision. A choice made by an informed, totally independent mind. And it will mean all the more to me because it will not be said out of need or obligation.

I think sometimes we go through the same thing with God. We get to the point where God is the old-fashioned parent and we're the rebellious teen. The difference is that we're usually way past our teenage years when the rebellion hits, and it can last for decades.

Trust me. I know whereof I speak. In spades.

For me, the rebellion lasted about twenty years. During that time I did and said things that should have had me fried in oil. Bad things. Horrible things. I wanted nothing to do with God. I even doubted He existed, and if He did, I didn't like Him. I thought there was no truth in the "one way" to Heaven. I thought everyone got there their own way.

But guess what?

God loved me through it. Just like I love my children now. He loved me so much that He waited. Patiently. For years and years.

And finally, I outgrew the rebellion and saw the truth. God loved me so very much that He took His own Son, the little baby whose birth we celebrate, the heart of His heart, and allowed him be killed to pay for MY sins. For all of those horrible, bad things I did.

Could I ever do that? Could I ever sacrifice someone I loved, even if it was to save all of mankind? I don't know that I could. BUT HE DID.

HE LOVED ME THAT MUCH.

So now I can say "I LOVE YOU!" and mean every word from the bottom of my being. Not because I'm a child anymore, but because I'm HIS child. Not because I'm being told to do it, but because I have consciously made the CHOICE to do it. Because I am so very grateful for the love He's given me, and for the love that I can now return to Him.

And I tell Him...many times each day.

And I know He smiles.

1 Peter 2:25

For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls. (NIV)

White Elephants and Tabletop Fires

I know, I know...I'm on a break. Really I am. But I just had to show you all what I got as a White Elephant gift from Susan, who didn't tell me what her blogsite is, so I can't thank her properly, but be assured I am. Thankful, that is.

And so, without further ado, let me unveil The Gift!



It's one of those table-top mini fireplace thingies with a candle inside. Now how cute is that??

And now I'm on bloggy break. Really.

Due to Circumstances Beyond My Control

As you may have noticed I've been a bit absent the past few days.

I don't know if y'all know this, but IT'S CHRISTMAS TIME.

And due to the nature of the beast, I am one incredibly busy woman right now. I know that isn't happening with ANY of the rest of you, so please forgive me shirking my bloggy duties right now.

As a matter of fact, I'm taking a bit of a bloggy break until things settle down some. Or until I can regain some of my sanity. Or both.

Then again, I may be back in a day or so. You just never know.

Y'all behave while I'm gone!

Why Yes, I Will Have Some Dirty Socks With My Coffee

This morning I got up and fixed chocolate-chip pancakes for my offspring. Daughter came downstairs with the usual brighten-anyone’s-day smile and attitude, spreading joy and happiness wherever she went. Son jumped out of bed to greet the new day, gave me a hug and said, “What delicious concoction have you come up with for breakfast today? I’m starving!“

Not.

Oh yes, I did make chocolate-chip pancakes. Yes, indeed. But that’s just about as far as the truth in that last paragraph goes.

Because y’all? My kids are just NOT morning people.

Daughter came downstairs in a sullen mood. When I spoke to her she decided it would be best to just look at me and roll her eyes. When I mentioned she didn’t finish cleaning the kitchen the way she was supposed to last night, I got another dose of eye-rolling with the added bonus of the shaking head and heavy sigh.

Why, good morning to YOU as well!


After she ate and left her dishes for me to clean up, Son hauled himself into the eating chair. Communication was just not going to happen with this young man, given he looked as though he’d just been hit over the head with a cob. Not a big breakfast eater, he settled for half a pancake and two glasses of chocolate milk.

We are nothing in the Singer household if not Healthy Eaters.

After eating the rest of his pancakes for my breakfast, I noticed I had fifteen minutes to spare. Absconding the silly ideas of putting in a load of laundry, cleaning the bathroom, or actually getting ready to go to work, I instead settled down to a more important task.

I read the blogs.

And may I just say this? Bloglines is a wonderful tool when it works the way it’s supposed to work. But lately? Not so much. So I decided to get my blog feed direct by going to each and every blog on the list. Now, given that I only had fifteen minutes, you can imagine how I had to rush. And I didn’t get to all of them before I noticed I was running late.

I was running late.

Imagine that.

So, being the on-time, dependable type that I am, I jumped up from the computer to get ready for work. In doing so, I upset my cup of coffee, which spread across the desk and dripped onto the carpet below. However, there was no need to fear.

Because, you see, I had the ever-ready Emergency Dirty Sock Pile right next to the computer.

(note: These belong to someone else. I got the photo from the web.)

We keep it there for just such an instance as I encountered this morning. Since all of them had been worn only a couple of times, they were still absorbent enough to sop up all that coffee and even more!

You may feel free to “Eeeewwwwww!!” now.

Don’t worry; the area will be sanitized as soon as I get home from work today. I was just running too late to do it immediately. Again, imagine that. And the socks? They’re goners.

Just exactly WHAT is the Great Spiritual Truth you’re supposed to glean from this? There is none. It’s just a way to add a little laughter to your day. A little light. A little smile.

Because we all need that every once in a while.

Psalm 126:2
Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them." (NIV)

He Meets Us Where We Are

It's quiet here now. Everyone has gone to bed except me.

I like this time of day. It's a time I can think, unwind, and destress from the busy-ness of the past 14 hours. It's a time I can write, I can pray, and I can read.

It's my time.

I've always enjoyed times like this. When I was a child I'd ride my bike to a park near my home that had a creek running through it. I could sit beside that creek and watch the water run for hours while I thought my thoughts, and dreamed my dreams.

As I got older, the locale changed. With little ones at home, I often found my only escape was a trip to Wal-Mart. Funny as that may sound, a person can get a lot of thinking and praying done in the time it takes to buy groceries, diapers and essentials like toilet paper. A whole lot of thinking and praying.

The important thing was not where I was, but more than that the time I had to be alone with my thoughts. And that is how I am today. I try to take retreat time at least every year. I used to go to a cabin my father owned. A couple of times I went to a hotel here in town by myself. And this past year, when we had no money and I had no vacation time left to go anywhere at all, a sweet friend of mine lent me her home for a day when she was out of town.

I warned my husband about this before we were ever married. "There are times, my love, when I will find it necessary to be alone," I said.


It broke his heart.

Being somewhat young and in love, he could not understand why I would ever want to leave his side. Because obviously, he never wanted to leave mine.

Fast forward 16 years.

"So, you going on that retreat thing any time soon?" he lovingly asks as he pushes me out the door. "I packed your bag for you."

What a guy. Because, you see, he knows now. He knows that if I don't get time alone, he'll wish I had. In a big way. Oh yes indeed, in a very big way. And to tell you the truth, I think he also realizes the value of time spent alone.

My husband is a newspaper carrier. As such, he gets up around 3 a.m. every day to go throw around 900 homes their daily news. He's done it for better than forty years now, beginning when he was a kid on his father's route. It's pretty much all he knows. He enjoys his chosen profession. Not only because he has no real "boss" to answer to, but because of the time it gives him to think every day. Alone, with no distractions. The problems of the world are solved every morning on the route.

Many times he will come home and tell me of conversations he's had with different people while on the route. Although those people are there in spirit, not in body, he manages to work out problems with them as if they were actually there. Sometimes I've even been talked to on the route...while I was at home in bed, sound asleep.

Another one talked to on the route is God. He seems to be the only one who is really there, both in Spirit and in Truth. My husband and God have had many conversations over the years in the wee hours of the morning, alone in the dark. In that way my husband is just like me. The only difference is the time and place. God shows up on the route just as surely as He shows up at Wal-Mart. He shows up whether it's in a cabin, or on a friend's deck. He shows up late at night, and He shows up early in the morning. All we have to do is take the time out to talk with Him, to seek His face, and to listen to what He has to say.

Because He meets us where we are.

John 10:27
My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. (NIV)

Jeremiah 29:12
Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. (NIV)

My First Meme

Thanks to HeyJules for tagging me with this. I was afraid someone would, and now you get to see all my dirty Christmas laundry. Speaking of laundry, don't I need to go do a load about now?... No?....You sure???

1. Egg nog or hot chocolate?

Both, please. In different cups, of course! And the "light" version, if you don't mind.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?

Santa is FAR too busy to wrap each and every present, even with all those elves. He sets them on the hearth along with the stockings he fills.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?

COLORED. What is it with monochrome lighting these days??? It's so....plain.

4. Do you hang mistletoe?

Only if I remember to buy it.

5. When do you put your decorations up?

The older the kids have gotten, the later the decorations have gone up. It's still before Christmas, and we still go get the tree the weekend after Thanksgiving, but it may not go up until the week before Christmas.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?

Turkey and dressing. OK, I know that's really two, but they go together. And gravy. So it's turkey and dressing and gravy. Oh, and cranberrry sauce....

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child:

Kind of a tossup. One is the year I got my bike. The other is the year I was very little and my parents didn't see Santa until Christmas morning. When they saw him coming they made me go into my room and shut the door. They said if I peeked before they told me I could come out, Santa would take all my presents back. I remember hearing the sleighbells and getting so excited I could hardly stand it while I was waiting!

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?

You mean the weight problem thing? I think I've always known Santa has a problem with overeating.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

Yes, but ONLY ONE. And it's usually jammies.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?

The kids do this every year. Dad puts the lights on (colored, of course), then the kids take over. When they were little all of the ornaments ended up on the bottom third of the tree and were secretly placed higher by elves. In later years they fight over who got to put the star on top last year. We have ornaments that date back over 30 years, and we add one or two every year.

11. Snow! Love it or dread it?

When I worked for the newspaper I HATED it. Now that I don't, I LOVE it!!!

12. Can you ice skate?

This is one of my dirty little secrets...I HAVE NEVER PUT ON A PAIR OF ICE SKATES. I can rollerskate, but I've never tried ice skating.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?

Had to have been my bike. Yup, the bike.

14. What’s the most important thing about the holidays for you?

I draw closer to God through the traditions of Christmas. Baking cookies and watching old movies, watching the kids decorate the tree while Christmas music plays in the background, attending church...all are important parts of the season for me. I see God working to help me remember His Gift through each of these things.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert?

Cookies. Hands down. Handfuls of them.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?

See #14. It's hard to choose just one.

17. What tops your tree?

A star. I got a new one a couple of years ago because all the glitter had fallen off of the old one...after all, it IS almost 30. My husband protested, so we still find a place for it on one of the other branches.

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving?

Giving. Without a doubt. And to know I got just the right gift? Heaven!

19. What is your favorite Christmas song?

Angels We Have Heard On High ranks right up there because of the "Gloria" part. But Silent Night is special in its own way.

20. Candy canes:

Nice to look at and decorate with, but eating them? Plain? Not so much. Now, stick that plain old cane in some hot chocolate, and oh, the bliss!

21. Favorite Christmas movie?

You might as well say "movieS" because they all have a place in my heart. It's a Wonderful Life, Holiday Inn, The Bells of St. Mary's, The Bishop's Wife, White Christmas....

22. What do you leave for Santa?

Cookies and milk, of course!

Tag goes to Kim, Chili, and Singing Owl if they'd like to participate!

Antique Is A State of Mind

Today is the day my good friend Cindy, the one I've known since kindergarten days, becomes a certified antique.

I read somewhere that for something to be classified as an antique it has to be at least 50 years old. Today is Cindy's 50th birthday, bless her heart. And as the card I sent to her today said, I'm running right behind her, so I hope she continues to lead the way.

FIFTY.

It's a scary thought.

As you all know, I consider myself to be in my EXTREEEEMELY late 30's. My mind is still there. My body may be 49, but my mind...my mind is still as young as I want it to be. My children would say that I average around two years of age at times, and they'd be right. But most of the time my mind is around 35. That's a nice, median age.

Of course, it's hard to be a grandmother at 35. People tend to think of grandmas as women twice that age. And there are times when I feel like I'm 100. When I realize what Cindy and I have lived through during this lifetime of ours, it's really quite amazing.

For instance: My daughter had to read To Kill A Mockingbird for a class at school. I bought the movie for her to watch after she finished reading the book so that she could compare the two. As we started the DVD, she said, "You mean the WHOLE THING is in BLACK AND WHITE???"

Heavy sigh.

LIFE used to be in black and white when I was a child. Father Knows Best, Leave It To Beaver, The Andy Griffith Show, The Donna Reed Show, even The Wizard of Oz was totally in black and white when we watched it on our television growing up. The first color television we had was when I was in 6th grade, and even then not all programming was in color.

I won't go into all of the innumerable inventions, innovations, and upgrades in detail, but here are just a few of the things the child of the sixties never saw coming:

1. Computers, and all that entails. From the Texas Instruments desktop on. My first computer was a 386. Brings back memories, eh?
2. The Internet. Wow.
3. Cell phones. And to think I used to be outraged when pay phone calls went up to a quarter from a dime.
4. The demise of the record player. MP3? iPod? CD? Who knew?
5. Air conditioning in schools. We were lucky enough to have one window unit in our home. We used quilts to keep the cold air in the one room serviced by this appliance, and considered it a luxury. Nowadays air conditioning is commonplace in homes, schools, businesses, cars, and anywhere else there are hot temperatures.
6. High postage rates and high prices in general. I used to mail letters to Grandma with a 5-cent stamp. Gas was $.299 a gallon. (It's important to remember the extra "9" at the end as well.)
7. No dress codes in school. When I told my daughter I had to wear dresses to school every day of my gradeschool life, she didn't believe me! Except on gym days, of course. Then I was allowed to wear shorts...UNDER my dress.
8. The inabilty of children to ride a bike or walk wherever they want to go. The world was mine in the sixties. I could go anywhere on my trusty bike. Not so with my children. Fear has replaced the freedom I had as a child.
9. Divorce. My parents always fought, but I knew they'd never divorce. It just wasn't done. And the women who were divorced had a certain unsavory stigma about them. It was undeserved, but it was still there.
10. The absence of prejudice. As we were watching the movie mentioned above, my son said, "Mom, why did everyone who was white hate everyone who was black?" My generation remembers living through race riots, discrimination and hatred. My son will not have that burden. Dr. King, your dream is alive and well.
11. Foul language. Oh, it was there, but only people who were very angry, extremely impolite, or from the "wrong side of the tracks" used it. I can remember not wanting to tell someone what the name of a Broadway musical was because it used a "bad" word. The name? Damn Yankees. Today I have to screen the music my kids want to listen to because of commonplace obscene language and indecent connotations.
12. S_x, bodily functions and physical attributes as a norm in daily conversation, on television, radio, and in the movies. (Obviously edited to keep the deranged away.) You've heard the stories about married couples sleeping in twin beds and couples having to keep at least one foot on the ground in bedroom kissing scenes? All true. Intimacy was left to the imagination, as so little is today.

As I said, these are only a few. I'm sure that if you're my age you can think of many more.

In the past fifty years, so much has changed. Technology and prices have skyrocketed, and morals and fidelity have taken a nosedive. Wars are on the increase, drive-by shootings are a normal occurrence, and AIDS has taken uncountable lives. With all that has happened in these past fifty years, I can only echo the question first posed in Revelation 6:10. How long?

How long must we continue this downward spiral? How long must we wait for the Lord to return? How long will He put up with our sin without wiping us off the face of this decrepit earth?

For me, for this almost-certifiable antique, it can't come soon enough.

Revelation 6:10
They called out in a loud voice, "How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?" (NIV)

Here's the Point

There is no way I could parent my children if I lost my index fingers.

It just could not be done.

Tonight was not the pinnacle of my success as a parent. It wasn't even on the upward swing. Tonight was one of those nights when you find yourself acting the same way YOUR parents did when you were a teenager and you hated every second of every minute of every hour they did it, and why wouldn't they just STOP and let you LIVE your LIFE in PEACE???

Yup, that was my evening, y'all.

And while I was completing my lecture circuit, in the middle of my parental tirade, at the very peak of my anger and frustration, I noticed something.

I cannot verbally discipline my children without using my pointy finger. And sometimes I even used BOTH of them.

It was really quite amazing. Here my mouth is, saying things like "no respect" and "no thanks for the work I do" and my mind can think of nothing else except why on earth am I POINTING at them with BOTH FINGERS at the SAME TIME???

I think I've reached a new all-time low in the parenting realm. Multi-tasking while delivering Gentle Guidance with a Loud Voice and Powerful Pointy Fingers is just not DONE. I could be removed from the Guild for this. They could throw the rule book at me. I could be relegated to all-girl preteen parties again!

Oh no. Please no.

I was concentrating so hard on the fact of the fingers that I forgot to finish flagellating the fledglings. They both just kind of stared at me as I became lost in the ponderings of my pointies. As I regained my composure, part of the steam left the space between my ears and I calmed down enough to ground both of them for 6 years past eternity, as only a good parent should. Of course, being the bad parent that I am, I let both of them off after I apologized for my outburst and lack of control in the temper department.

So there is the possibility that both of us learned something tonight. Them, to treat their poor, mistreated mother better. Me, that it doesn't hurt to have a sense of humor with your kids. I hope we can both remember that in the future.

We'll make a point of it. With our index fingers.

Psalm 139:24

Point out anything in me that offends You, and lead me along the path of everlasting life. (NLT)

Mr. Fix-It

In the past 48 hours we've had to replace three things that normally need replacing every 20 years or so. I wanted to share with you, my Very Close Friends, exactly what we've been through so that you, too, can share in our obvious joy.

One: The Telephone Line

It seems as though our friends, the neighborhood squirrels (no, not my next-door neighbors), had eaten through most of the telephone line. Since we do occasionally use it (like 24 hours a day, each and every day) we noticed there was a popping and crackling sound on it that wouldn't go away.

Oh, and people couldn't hear us, nor could we hear them, due to said Rice Krispie Effect. Small thing.

And our DSL service sucked eggs. Big time. We kept having to reset the modem because the phone line would knock us off of the internet. A BIG thing. A Very BIG Thing. So big, in fact, that I went into full-out, no-holds-barred, sweet-Yahoo-release-me-from-this-misery, gnashing-of-teeth-weeping-and-wailing, worse-than-no-caffeine WITHDRAWAL.

For the entire 45 minutes it took the man to replace the line.

I kissed his feet when he was done. I really did.

Two: The Furnace

Oh yes, the furnace.

At Christmastime.

We had the techs out to fix it a month ago. They replaced a Very Expensive Part, and it worked for a few days. They came back, fiddled with a few things, and it worked for a few days. The next time we made sure our regular guy came out. He took one look at the furnace and told us he had to shut it off immediately. It seems our furnace had turned into one of those carbon-monoxide-producing death traps, and he refused to let it run any longer.

Which made us feel oh, so very safe and warm inside.

Because, after all, on the outside we were going to freeze to death in an unheated house. Or die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

So we had it replaced. It took most of the morning yesterday, meaning the hubster got absolutely no sleep. Because, of course, one must WATCH the installation person at all times to be absolutely sure he is doing quality work. Even if said installation person has been doing this for most of his adult life and the watcher has never installed a furnace, ever. You just never can tell.

But at least my toes aren't cold anymore.

Three: The Main Power Line Into the House

Once the furnace was in and starting to warm up the house, I decided to bake some cookies. I turned on the oven to preheat it, and the lights started to dim and flicker.

Not good.

I finished the cookies, and suggested to the hubster we might want to call the power company. He wasn't sure if it was the power line or something the installation guy did with the furnace (even though he was being watched), and couldn't make up his mind if we needed to call someone. I, on the other hand, was SURE we needed to call SOMEONE rather than just watching the lights flicker and saying "Wow, wonder what's causing that?" all the time. I'm just a take-charge-and-get-it-done type of person. I'm really irritating in that way. Among many others.

So I called the power company. When they came out today, they told us the squirrels (again, not my neighbors) had almost eaten through the power line coming into the house. While we were in no eminent danger due to this, it was still something that had to be replaced. And replace it they did.

So we now are able to communicate with the outside world. We can do it in the warmth of our own home, with enough light to see by. Which set me to wondering....

What are some of the other things in my life that need to be replaced? What else is worn out? What needs to be tossed? I'm not talking about physical things. I'm talking about attitudes, habits, and ways of dealing with things that need to be changed for new or thrown out completely.

What if I could reach inside my head and take out that habit of procrastination, replacing it with a "do it now" attitude? How much more could I accomplish?

What if I could joke my way through it when one of my kids says something to try and get my goat, instead of lashing out in anger? How much more would they respect me?

What if I could steal the urge to overeat from my brain and replace it with a stronger urge to get and stay a healthy weight? How cool would THAT be?

It's something to ponder. And something to pray about.

Because only God can fix what's broken and worn out, or toss what needs to be gone.

All I have to do is call the Repairman.

2 Corinthians 5:17
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! (NIV)

It's Cheezy Evil

Ladies and Gentlemen,

let me introduce you to

EVIL INCARNATE.

WHITE CHEDDAR CHEEZ-ITS.

In the past two days, just after the beautific posts about how I had recommitted myself to the weight plan, I was stricken with a jones. A jones so strong that I could not deny it. A jones of HUGE proportion. A jones so intense that I know it had to come from the very pit of that hot place down under.

I HAD TO HAVE WHITE CHEDDAR CHEEZ-ITS.

And not just a few.

I ate the whole box.

Now granted, it was a small box. And I did it over three days. And my son helped a little. But make no mistake about it, the box is history now, and it's my fault.

If I take any solace in this at all, it's that the box is no longer there to tempt me. Not that it really matters when it comes to the lard which has added itself to my hips. These crackers are known as the legal form of crack, according to many sites on the web, due to their addictive taste. As a victim, I would heartily agree.

This is all I have to say about what you should do if you are offered any of these heinous snacks:

Run. Run far, and run fast.

And pity the poor person who offered them to you. They were once just like you.

James 4:7

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.