In Which I Rock and Spread Joy

Linds over at Rocking Chair Reflections was kind enough to bestow this upon me. Although I believe it should be qualified to say "Rockin' Grandma Blogger" instead, since the only rockin' I do these days seems to be in a chair, I graciously accept her warped view of me. Thank you so much, my friend!

And the gift just keeps on giving...

1. To Jackie, who is great with Peanut, for hanging in this last couple of weeks until the ...um...shell cracks and Peanut appears. Stay the course!
2. To Melanie, who takes teaching VBS and dumpster diving to a whole new level. You went above and beyond, girlfriend!
3. To Leann, a 40-something wife and mom who's going to school to become a chef/caterer/pastry chef and shares her love for healthy eating with us on the web.
4. To Linda, even though she already has one, because perhaps with two they will allow her some sort of scholarship into a podiatric hospital of some sort. Which she desperately needs. Really.
5. And finally, to Big Mama, whose family has recently suffered the death of a loved one, may he swim in peace. Oh, and cake. We cannot forget the cake. And the shiny blouse.

Enjoy, my friends, and spread the joy among others!

In Which I Meet Romance

The Girl and The Boy have gone away for an ENTIRE WEEK, so we're on vacation here in the Singer household.

And may I just say this? We are SO loving it.

Tonight I went out to dinner with a man that looked strangely familiar to me. I knew I'd seen him somewhere before, but I just couldn't put a name to the face.

That is, until he asked if I had my debit card so that I could pay for dinner. Then I figured out where it was we'd met. It was about seventeen years ago. I'd been wearing a long white dress, and he had a tux...there were flowers involved...oh yes, now it's coming back to me....

And the debit card bit? Just one of the many reasons why I love this man the way I do after seventeen years of marriage. We're WAY past the pretense stage. Romance has become much more than candy and flowers. Romance has EVOLVED.

Oh yes MA'AM, it has.

And I don't mean just because we can pass gas in front of each other or anything.

Ahem.

In 2003 a tornado struck our neighborhood. Hubster and I were home alone, and made it to the basement with only minutes to spare. When we came up top afterwards, the landscape of our entire yard had changed. Oh, the house was still there and in fairly good shape, but we lost most of the mature trees we had. An oak, four feet in diameter. A locust. A hard maple. Half of a fully-grown burr oak landed in our driveway. The winds picked up a branch that was eight inches in diameter and twelve feet long, and drove it at a diagonal into the ground until only four feet of it was visible. Our woodpile destroyed the heat pump. Compared to others, though, our damage was minor. Two blocks behind us entire houses were blown away, never to be seen again.

We were blessed.

In the midst of the cleanup, Hubster's back went out. He couldn't walk, much less drag branches or cut up wood. He couldn't rake. He couldn't even sit up. All he could do was lie on the floor and moan.

We both felt helpless at that point, so I called the city to get volunteer help in. They sent us four volunteers, and with their help and the help of a couple of friends I was able to get almost everything cleaned up within a week. Finally I felt as though I'd imposed enough. The volunteers and friends left, but there was still a lot to do.

I raked and bundled and raked and bagged and raked some more. I had blisters upon blisters and I was so tired and hot I thought I would keel over, but I had to get the work done before the city crews made their final rounds to pick up debris. Just when I thought I couldn't go a single step more, the back door opened.

Out hobbled Hubster, a wet washrag in one hand and a huge glass of ice water in the other. It took everything he had to be able to get that for me, but he did it. It was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

And that, Ladies and Gents, is ROMANCE.

So while the children are gone this week, we've been rediscovering a bit of the OTHER kind of romance. A little eating out. A little holding hands. A little more closeness than we can normally have when the kids are here.

I'll take this over a tornado any day.

She Done Blessed Me!

Proverbs 27:19

As a face is reflected in water, so the heart reflects the real person.

My friend Carol at She Lives does just that...in spades. And she does it for the glory of God. She lives her life as a reflection of His love, and for that I truly admire her.

Another reason I admire her is that she sees Him in others. If you get a chance to visit her blog, you'll see a list of people she believes reflect His love in one way or another, and to whom she has given this award. I am humbled and honored to be one of those people.

And as one of those people, it falls to me to choose five bloggers whom I believe would fall into the same category; those who have encouraged, been a source of love, impacted me, and have been a Godly example.

Wow. Quite a bill to fill. But I have been extremely blessed through blogging to meet and come to know several who have impacted me greatly. Let me share them with you.

1. First and foremost, my forever friend and almost-twin, HeyJules. She has become more of a woman of God in the past two and a half years than I have in the past forty. She amazes me with her hunger and thirst for a deeper knowledge and love of God that cannot be satiated. Her talent as a photographer and writer has no equal, and I know God will use her for something beyond her wildest imagination.

2. Secondly, there are Trish and Dave at Ashley's Journal. They have been through so much with their little daughter over the past almost two years, yet still praise God with every post for His love and blessings. Even in the midst of the worst possible scenarios, the name of God is lifted high. They are a true reflection of His power.

3. Linds at Rocking Chair Reflections is my friend from "across the pond." She lost her husband almost exactly a year ago, but still manages to LIVE her life. She has a strong faith that shines through even her worst days. The love she has for her friends, family and God is something to behold. Linds grabs life by the shirt-tail and hangs on for the ride, enjoying every glorious minute.

4. Pilot Mom at Claire Bug is truly the type of Christian I want to be when I grow up. IF I grow up. She's been through some very trying times this past year, and continues to go through even more, yet still praises God with every breath she takes. I marvel at her faith, her strength, and her love for her Creator.

5. And not to be redundant by any means, but I do love me a good laugh. And my dear BooMama makes me smile almost every day. Sometimes her posts have Godly points, sometimes they're just about the joys God has given her, but ALL the time they are a blessing to me. And so I hope I can bless her a little bit with this award.

Now, here are the instructions:

The award originated here. That's probably the best place to learn more about it.

Here's what it says you should do:

1. Copy this post.

2. Replace my five bloggers with yours and write a least a paragraph about each one.

3. Make sure you link this post so others can read it and the rules.

4. Go leave your chosen bloggers a comment and let them know they've been given the award.

5. Put the award icon on your site [see here]

With apologies to Mary, let me just say this:

Ethiopian food? Not my cuppa.

And there ain't much that AIN'T my cuppa, if you catch my drift.

Or maybe I just got the wrong Ethiopian restaurant.

Now please pardon me while I choke down some Pepto....

(Oh, and the arm? Mine is MUCH hairier....)

It's Ketchup Time

Ah, the Elixir of the Suburban.

And it's the best way I can think to both coat my fries and let you know what's been happening since The Period of the Pilfered Purse. It's been a busy, busy time.
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Item the First: The Bag-Nappers

The young scoundrels that purloined the handbag were obviously of the Highest Moral Character, as were their family and friends. This was evidenced by the fact that they not only used my credit card as mentioned before, but used my checking account, name, address and phone number to purchase telephone service for one of their relatives and/or friends in the slammer. Yes, an inmate of the Caldwell County Jail was about to be able to make $58.00 worth of calls out on a monthly basis due to my supposed generosity!

Until I nipped it in the bud.

Shame on me. (insert girlish giggle here)

When all was said and done, it was a bit of an expensive lesson to learn, but a worthy one. And LOOK! I got TWO! TWO! TWO LESSONS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE! Not only did I learn basic safety and how-to-keep-myself-from-being-a-walking-target type of lessons, but I also learned a much bigger lesson.

Forgiveness.

Because in the end, I really feel sorry for them. I could go into how I'm sure they don't have all the privileges of life that I do, or the parents that I did, or the education, but in the end all of that really doesn't matter either.

Because they could have very well had every single last one of those things.

What really matters is that I know they don't have the God that I do. And that makes me sad. Very sad. Very sad indeed.
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Item the Second: The Leaving of The Third Boss.

The farewell was last Thursday, and in true Kansas City tradition we had a BBQ luncheon with all the trimmings. Speeches were made, laughter and tears were shared, gifts were given and received.

I told him with all the gifts, well-wishes, and general good feelings about him, perhaps I should get rid of bosses more often.

With tongue firmly in cheek, he said he thought I already did that.

Being the office pariah does give one quite a reputation.
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Item the Third: Return of the Migraine

Also reappearing during this Very Busy Time was my Enemy Incarnate, the Multi-Day Migraine. This one started on Tuesday, and by Friday I'd had enough. I took the day off and went to the neurologist hoping for a shot of Demerol or some other happy juice.

I hoped in vain.

He offered me two options. 1) Suck it up and suffer through while taking the medicine he prescribed which may take up to a week to work, or 2) be hospitalized overnight to have IV drugs pumped into my system to break the headache cycle I was in.

I wimped out and chose option one.

I've been through the hospital thing twice in the past year, and it's not all it's cracked up to be. Besides, there was.....

_____________________________

Item the Fourth: A Night On the Town

With Mom.

We'd been planning it for a couple of months. We both love A Prairie Home Companion, and it had come to Our Fair City.

Now, before you get all down on me about Garrison Keillor and his politics and religious views, let me just say this: I know. But I enjoy the parts I enjoy and I frankly ignore the parts I don't. And the parts I enjoy far outweigh the parts I don't, so it was worth every penny. And every bead of sweat that dripped off of my head, under my arms, down my back, and many other places I won't mention.

Because, you see, we have an outdoor theater here. Starlight by name.

And it was 437 degrees. In the shade. And 149.5% humidity. In the dark.

And the Dippin' Dots were $5.50 and pretzels were $5, and that's what we had for dinner because they wouldn't let us bring our chicken nuggets in.

Sheesh.

But the show was good, we had bottled water, misters (the water-kind, not the man-kind) and hand-held fans.

And Hallelujah! There were stalls a-plenty in the restrooms! Because, with 45,000 people there, 50,000 of which were women, you just couldn't have enough stalls.

God, as always, was in His heaven and all was right with the world.
__________________________________

Item the Fifth: Stuffing the Singer on Sunday

Sunday was supposed to be an "off" day for me, meaning that I wasn't supposed to sing with the band. However, one of the feature songs needed a little more umph, so I was asked to fill in. I think God had this idea I might actually try to skip church if I wasn't singing.

Hmmmm......wonder where He could have gotten THAT idea???

Anyhoo, I did both services, then cut out early from the second one so that we could gather the troops together to eat at the MIL's.

Yes, she's 92 years old and still having family dinners on Sunday at her home.

Y'all may applaud now.

After that it was home for a quick nap, then out to eat with friends from across the street who are the legal parents of our psuedo-daughter. She's here during waking hours, so we claim her as almost our own.

Suffice it to say by the end of the day I was all in.
____________________________________

Item the Final: The Thumb Less Brown

Last year about this time I was bemoaning the fact that I cannot grow WEEDS, much less anything edible. The TWO tomatoes I got off of three plants last year were the size of golf balls, sour, and totally inedible.

I will now eat my words.

For this, Ladies and Gents, is my pride and joy. Barring squirrels and rabbit attack, I should be feasting on ELEVEN tasty tomatoes in the very near future. So far.

My husband, on the other hand, will be eating his hat.

____________________________________

And so we end this little novella with the story about the Mama Tomato and the Papa Tomato who went for a walk with the Baby Tomato. The Baby Tomato fell behind, being as he was smaller. The Papa Tomato went back, picked him up and set him down even with Papa and Mama Tomato. After the 37th or so time of doing this, the Papa Tomato lost his patience. He went back to where the Baby Tomato was, raised his foot, and STOMPED on the Baby Tomato while shouting, "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU???.........CATCH UP!!!!!!!!"

And the crowd moaned audibly as they deleted the blog from their Bloglines....

God is good!

Psalm 126:2

Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The LORD hath done great things for them.

Like A Thief In The Day

I've been having trouble sleeping the past few nights. My mind keeps thinking even though my body screams out for rest, and I can't seem to get it to stop. Last night I resorted to my friend the sleeping pill, and woke up so groggy I had to call in to work and take the day to sleep it off. Tonight, determined not to repeat my error, I have tossed and turned and tossed some more.

Finally, I gave up and came downstairs to write.

While my posts are normally on the lighthearted side, you'll find this one to be a bit different. Let me apologize in advance, but I really need to get this out of my head and onto my blog in hopes it will relieve my mind enough for me to catch some z's.

It all started last Thursday.

My assistant maintenance man's last day was the Friday previous. My maintenance man was loaded down with work. The vending machines needed to be filled, and we were short on product. With no time and extra work, the maintenance man needed help, so I offered to go to Sam's and pick up the product for him.

I got to Sam's, browsed around, ate samples for lunch, checked out and went to the company minivan to load up. I still had the company cell phone in hand since I'd called back to ask about a couple of different things I was supposed to buy. The cart was loaded down with pop, chips, and other items. My purse was in the upper basket underneath the box of chips.

I opened the back hatch of the minivan and started loading. I had loaded about three of the cases of pop when I saw a car drive by. The car startled me, because not only did it drive by fairly quickly for a parking lot, but they got so close to me that they knocked the box of chips off the upper basket. I looked up, gave them my best "Be More Careful In The Future!!!" glare, and watched them speed off.

I finished loading the van and closed the hatch. I opened the door to the van, but noticed something was missing.

My purse was gone.

I looked all over the van for it before I realized...the men in the car drove close to my cart and knocked the box of chips off for a reason.

They stole my purse.

God provided for me in that I still had the company cell phone, and I still had keys to the vehicle. I immediately called the police, and while I was waiting for them I called every credit card, bank and any other number I could think of to report the theft. I learned that even before I reported my credit card as stolen it had been used FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES. McDonald's, a gas station, a cell phone store and an auto parts store were all listed.

AND NOT ONE OF THEM CHECKED MY NAME OR IDENTIFICATION.

The amazing part to me is that I have a very feminine name, yet my card was used four separate times by one of the two young MEN without question. That floors me.

The policeman that took my report had me list all of the items in my purse that were of any value. I honestly did not remember many of them until two days later, and that tells me I carry WAY too much in my purse. I lost gift cards totaling over $120, an MP3 player, and all of my credit/debit/library/driver's licence/Social Security cards. The keys to my personal car were also in there, meaning I had to re-key the car and locks, as well as the house. The checkbooks from our different accounts were among the casualties, and so all of the accounts had to be closed. Medical insurance cards disappeared.

And they got my favorite lipstick.

So what exactly have I learned from all of this? Many things.

1. When you are unloading a basket in a parking lot, always take your purse out and put it in the car first. Do not, under any circumstances, leave it in the baby seat of the cart.
2. If you DO leave your purse in the baby seat, back the cart into the car and unload it that way. At least the purse will be closer to you and not out where it can be grabbed.
3. Whenever possible, don't carry a purse. Take a debit card and driver's license in with you. Leave the purse at home.
4. Never carry your Social Security card with you. Keep it in a lockbox at home or some other safe place.
5. Same with checkbooks. Did you know someone can take the routing number and account number off of your checks and use them to purchase items on the internet? Didja? I didn't, at least not until now.
6. Carry your keys and cell phone in your hand. In case of emergency you'll be glad you did.
7. Never underestimate the jerks of this world. You may live a very safe town, but jerks can always visit to ruin things. Trust me, I know. Before this happened, I was known to not even lock the car when I left it. Silly, silly me.
8. If you are ever a victim, call the police immediately. The sooner you call, the more likely some of your belongings will be recovered. (This was not so in my case.) The policeman said oftentimes thieves will drive to a dumpster in the area and get rid of everything they don't want.
9. Immediately call credit card companies, banks, and send a fraud alert to all of the major credit bureaus. If you call one, the other two will be notified. The fraud alert is good for 90 days, and lets all potential creditors know they need to get positive identification before giving credit.

This little public service announcement has been what's been keeping me up nights. I keep thinking of the "what if?" questions. What if they'd actually accosted me in the parking lot instead of driving by? What if they'd had a gun? What if I hadn't volunteered to help out? What if I'd been more observant and less stupid?

And the questions, they go on and on.

Here's what I'm thankful for:

1. God provided the phone and the keys.
2. He kept me safe.
3. Nothing in my purse was irreplaceable.
4. All of it is covered by insurance.
5. People were more than willing to help me in my distress.
6. I have an outlet for the angst I feel...in you.

Thank you, Gentle Reader, for allowing me this letting off of steam. Now, go kiss your family and tell them you love them, then go to bed.

And sleep.

Mathew 6:19-20
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.

Solar Power

UPDATE BELOW!

It is after one ayem in the morning, and I can't sleep.


The Girl is having problems, and was kind enough to make sure I shared them with her. At one ayem. In the morning. Zero dark thirty.


We're just close that way.


You see, there was this car wash that the volleyball team was having at the local HyVee today. Being as The Girl was on the Freshman team and aspires to be on the Junior Varsity team this fall, she thought it would be best if she showed up for the fundraiser.


I took her and another aspiring young athlete friend of hers to the prescribed location about noon yesterday. The Girl was wearing her swimsuit under shorts and a tank top. I mentioned to her that she should be sure to put on some sun screen before she did anything else, since the sun was shining like...well...the SUN and all, and she might get a burn.


Did you know that when you're fifteen years of age your mother is as stupid as a sack of rocks?


She gave lip service to my sage wisdom, rolled her eyes, and went on her merry way.


When I returned two hours later to pick the both of them up, they looked a little pink. The Girl was starting to complain some about her tender skin. I reminded her that she was given the suggestion about the sun screen, at which point she bulled up and didn't talk all the way home after trying to blame it on me.


I guess she showed me. Foolish girl. She knows not with whom she tangles!


When we got back to our house it wasn't even an hour before the girls wanted to go to the pool. Again, being the aged wise woman I am, I mentioned that they were already burned and even more exposure to our friend the sun would likely increase their pain and suffering.


"Oh NO!" they cried. "We now have SUNSCREEN to block our skin from further damage!"


What a novel idea. I wish I'd thought of it.


They liberally salved each other with the lotion, then proceeded to go to the pool, again disregarding my advice. It was about 3:30 p.m. when I dropped them off. When The Hubster picked them up around 6 p.m., they looked more than a little on the well-done side.


I went to work, got home, wrote a post, played on the internet, and went to bed. I had been in bed less than fifteen minutes when I heard The Girl's door open. She came into our room wailing about the immense amount of pain her scorched skin was causing and her inability to sleep.


I got up and gave her aspirin, swabbed her down with aloe vera, had her get something she could lie on that would protect her bed, and wet down a towel to put over her. She shivered and shook but went along with everything I suggested. This time there was a difference.


She actually listened.


As we stood in the bathroom looking at her VERY red skin, she turned to me and uttered the words every mother wants to hear:

"Mom, I think I've learned my lesson."

It was a touching moment in my mothering career. Really. I think I may or may not have actually shed just one shining, single tear over the whole thing. It proved to me that at least a small part of what I'm doing as a mom is right.

And for that, I thank God.

G'night all.

UPDATE

The Girl had to be taken to Urgent Care tonight. Come to find out her little fun in the sun caused 2nd degree burns across her shoulders. Looks like there won't be any sunbathing in her near future!

In Which I Rock As A Grandma

Littlest Man is spending the night with us tonight.

At the tender age of 28 months (two years and 4 months for those of you who are not parents of young children), his energy knows no bounds. This is one reason I was happy to work my part-time job tonight and to leave All The Running to The Girl and The Boy and The Grandpa.

I got in about 10:30, and as I came up the stairs I heard Littlest Man crying. Seems as though all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't get Littlest Man to go to sleep.

Enter Her Royal Highness, the Grandma!

I picked him up and asked if he'd like to rock for a while. He said "Uh huh, Gamma" between sniffs and calmed down a bit. We went down to the rocking chair in the office, and "Gamma" sat down.

"Wock, Gamma!" he commanded.

And "wock" we did.

It took all of 3 minutes for him to be sound asleep, but I continued to rock him for another twenty. Not because I thought he'd wake up, but because I miss it. I miss the little arms around my neck, the little head on my shoulder, the utter comfort of that weight upon my chest. I miss the unconditional trust and love of a being that small. I miss the sweet baby smell, the smell of baby hair, and the little limbs that go limp as they let slumber take over. I miss being able to lay the sweet baby in bed without him ever opening an eye.

Sigh.

I know I could never, EVER survive another child at this age, and frankly, I don't want to try. I know that even if God were to perform a miracle and give me another child to love 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, I would end up in some mental institution somewhere, rocking back and forth, back and forth, all day long while singing a tuneless "Nonny, nonny, nonny" to anyone who invaded my own little special world.

I know this for a fact.

And that's why God, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, created the role of Grandma for me. It allows me a little bit of Heaven here on earth, in the form of someone who's two.

Thank You, God.

The Stiff In My Bathroom

I cannot stand spiders.

....or dental drills or the sound of fingers squeezing a blown-up balloon, or Spanish rice; but tonight's diatribe concerns mostly the spider thang.

And so to begin...

Our house was built some 35 years ago. Long about that time, it was thought Oh, So Very Stylish to put shake shingles on roofs instead of the usual asphalt shingles. Thus, the roof under which we live today is even now made up of shake shingles.

Although esthetically pleasing, the roof we have now is somewhat of a fire hazard. Were the house to combust, we would likely find ourselves in a blazing inferno in no time flat. The roof would go up in....well....smoke.

But hey, that's not where the fun ends! We have all sorts of other things to worry about due to our roof.

The biggest problem we have due to the composition of our covering is the infestation of spiders and silverfish. Apparently those creatures thrive in just such an atmosphere as this...at least that's what the exterminator said before he told us there was no way he could ever get rid of them unless we replaced the roof. Ever.

And our joy knew no bounds at that little piece of information.

Before moving into this house I saw a spider every once in a while, eeeked, and had a male-type being kill the thing. Same with the silverfish. Saw one once in an eon or two, and never really had a problem with them.

That was then. This is NOW.

This is a lovely photo (although somewhat unfocused) of my bathrobe. The nice, soft, fluffy one that hangs on the back of our bathroom door.

But that's not all it is.

This is a lovely photo of my bathrobe that hangs on the bathroom door with a recently deceased spider on it.

But that's not all it is.

This is a lovely photo of my bathrobe that hangs on the bathroom door with a recently deceased spider on it that is, at this very moment, stiff as the proverbial board.

"Why is that?" you query.

Because THIS unfocused photo is what I tried to kill the spider with, BY SPRAYING IT ON HIM WHILE HE WAS ON MY BATHROBE, obviously thinking it would dry faster than it did, or that the sheer 100-proof alcohol content would get the spider drunk enough to believe he could drive his little spider car off of my bathrobe, thus causing him to die in an alcohol-related crash, and I would deny all knowledge of serving him, thereby absolving myself of his death and, oh yes, KILLING him without All The Squishing.

Because I'm so brave and all, you know.

And desperate times call for really intelligent desperate measures.

I fell so very, very short.

However, instead of the spider getting drunk or...um... stiff, he managed to keep running ALL OVER MY BATHROBE no matter how much I squirted him from the environmentally-safe bottle of hair glue. And squirt I did.

A lot.

But like the Timex watch of old, he just kept on ticking. Due to this, I had to pick up whatever was handy...in this case a plastic box of facial cleansing wipes...and beat him to death.

ON MY BATHROBE.

So not only is my bathrobe now stained by spider guts, but it also has the singular distinction of being stiff as a board - much like the spider that is now squished and stiff and spread on top.

And although it is softer than soft and fluffier than fluffy, except of course for the, you know, STIFF PARTS, I would still not choose to die on or in it if I were the spider. Because then, you know, I'd be DEAD and all and hardly able to enjoy All The Fluffiness anyway.

All this to say the following:

HAIRSPRAY DOES NOT KILL SPIDERS, UNLESS YOU USE THE BOTTLE TO SQUISH THEM.

Y'all may thank me at will for providing the Interweb with such a Helpful Home Hint. And you're very welcome.

Carry on.