Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. Matthew 7:7 (NLT)
I'm not sure who was using the above-verse more, me or the people nagging me about this job. I cannot recall exactly the timeline here, but soon thereafter, I received a mailing from the AOIC which is the Administrative Office of the Illinois Courts, Court Reporting Services, announcing job vacancies. It was a mailing that I used to rip open in eager anticipation that my local job would finally be open. I opened this one and there it was, the court reporting vacancy I had once dreamed of. I laughed, crumpled it up and threw it away. I was so not interested.
But all of these inquiries and nudges were becoming quite noticeable, I decided that maybe I should start praying harder about this. And so I did. I prayed that I would be lead where I needed to go and that if God wanted me to take this job, even though I was thoroughly content with the one I had, he needed to send me a sign, preferably a big one. (And if you follow my posts, you know that sometimes I need several really big signs to grasp the picture!)
A few days later I was in the shower. I didn't have to work, and Jay and I were going uptown to eat lunch. (This was a great perk of my job...with Jay working shiftwork, I could spend lots of time with him on his days off because I wasn't working full-time.) Anyway, he opens the door to the bathroom and says to me with the most serious face, "Tracy called and would like you to call back." I said, "Traci?" (Because I have a good friend named Traci and I was surprised she would be calling and not emailing.) Again, with that ornery straight face, he says, "No, Tracy, the judge." H-o-l-y-C-o-w.
I simply could not believe it. The judge was now calling my house. This was unbelievable to me. This was a stupid sign...you know, the one I had asked for. What in the world was I gonna do now? I called him back and told him I would come in and talk to him, but I wasn't promising anything because, as you know, I was very happy doing what I was doing.
I knew enough about how things went around there that I was very skeptical of whether I would be happy, fit in, be miserable, regret terribly my decision, get grouchy, etc. Without going into too many details, let's just say that I wasn't sure how well the Judge and I would click. It was my number one concern...and supported by many who knew the situation. I decided that what I needed to do was walk into the little chit-chat with a plan. My plan was to make certain demands and make it very clear that if I didn't end up liking it, I was gone. I was not going to come in begging for my dream job under any circumstances, which is what I likely would've done a few years earlier.
As I walked out the doors of his office and the courthouse, I was fairly certain I would take the job. It was simply an offer I could not refuse. We had agreed that I could leave at anytime if it wasn't working out. He was going to allow me to run a little late every morning so I could continue to take my kiddos to school (which I really love doing). The CRS office had decided to hire me back at the salary I left with, plus I would get to continue where I was on the vacation/sick time bank. That was a biggie for me, I knew there was no way I could start over with vacation days...ugh.
Jay and I talked it over. I had so many prayers going up. I hated to give up my freedom, but something kept telling me I just had to give this a shot...and so I did. I decided that God wanted me to take this job for a reason, and I continue to pray that I am fulfilling whatever purpose he has for me here. One of the perks that I wasn't quite expecting was gaining a dear friend, we'll call her Kathy. Sometimes it feels like we've known each other forever. Sometimes, as we are instant messaging one another from across the courtroom, we are typing the very same thing. I'm so thankful to have her to help me through the rough days and make light of frustrating situations. We are a good team. And we have some fun times too!!
So here I sit, 18 months later, and I love my job. I even like my judge. There have been some rocky moments, a couple rough patches where I thought I couldn't take it anymore, but mostly in the summer after I started and it was just hard to re-adjust to my family being at home having fun and me being at work. I know and trust that God has a plan for me here and it may not even be the one I have in mind. I am so very fortunate to have this job and working full-time hasn't killed me yet. I think I'm gonna stick around a while. The moral of my story is: Be careful what you pray for, you just may get it.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Be careful what you pray for...Part I
I know, Lord, that our lives are not our own. We are not able to plan our own course. Jeremiah 10:23 (NLT)
The yearbook for my senior year had a class prophecy in it. You know how those are always so funny at the time. I will paraphrase but ours said something like this about Jay & I. "Jay and Sarah are married with two kids and still here in Martinsville. Jay runs a ranch and Sarah is the court reporter for Clark County." Now, again, that is just from my memory, but it really did say that Jay had a ranch and I would be the local court reporter. How weird is that?
But really that became my dream, to be the court reporter here in my home county, and at that point I hadn't even started court reporting school yet, which I soon discovered was difficult and had a very high drop-out rate. When I did finally finish and get my license, there was no room in the inn for me here in Marshall. It's a one-horse town, so-to-speak. Two judges and one reporter pretty much covered it. I would have to wait it out. I didn't know the court reporter at the time who worked in Marshall but over time a relationship developed. "I'm Sarah, I live in Martinsville and I am a court reporter. Are you ready to retire yet?" That is pretty much how it evolved.
In 1996 I started my professional career (ha, that sounds so high and mighty, doesn't it?) okay, I started my job as a freelance court reporter. A very sweet gal in Monticello took me under her wing and showed me the ropes. I had to do a LOT of driving, but it was worth it. Most of my jobs were at least 80 miles away. I did that for about a year and then I had the opportunity for an officialship (which is what it's called when you are a reporter for the judicial system) in Lawrence County. I wasn't too cracked up about moving down there, but felt like it was an opportunity I could not refuse. It was my dream to be in the courtroom, here was my chance.
My hope all along was to work down there until the local reporter retired and then transfer to Marshall. That was my plan and I'm a good nag, but it didn't happen as quickly as I had hoped. Every few years at our seminar, I would walk up to the local reporter and ask her if she was ready yet. Nope, maybe in a couple years. This went on and on. Finally I gave up. I decided that I could work forever in Lawrence County waiting and then maybe I wouldn't even get the job up here. I was tired of the 50-mile commute every day, Jay and I had worked Dave's master financial plan and I pulled the plug. I would freelance from home and see what happens.
I was fortunate that the local freelance firm would hire me. One of the owners had been my teacher at court reporting school and I hadn't scared her too badly so they took me in. I thoroughly enjoyed working for them. It was so weird to work from home, not work every day, work when I want to (maybe at 12:30 a.m. because I had "played" all day). I was somewhere different almost every job and I like variation. It was way better than we had expected and I couldn't have asked for more. (And a bonus, grocery shopping during the day without children is awesome!)
In the fall of 2009, the local reporter notified me she would probably be retiring very soon, did I want the job? No, I told her, I'm very happy. A couple months later, the bailiff contacted me telling me he had heard the reporter was retiring, would I take her place? No, I thought that was what I wanted, but I'm so very happy. In January 2010, apparently after her official retirement announcement, the local State's Atty sent word my way that they would like me to consider her job. Thanks for thinking of me, but I'm not interested at this time.
Again, the reporter called me and we talked for a very long time. I know it was what I always dreamed of, but I couldn't imagine giving up what I had, the freedom, being close by for my family and my friends. I had her go over the pros and cons, the set-up here, the judge(s), the workload, etc. I had worked for 11 years in another circuit and amazingly enough, circuits (although side-by-side geographically) operate very differently.
I hung up, my mind was whirling. This had been my dream for so long and now here it was. She had been the reporter here for 32, would this chance come my way again if I decided I wanted it? And so the praying began.
The yearbook for my senior year had a class prophecy in it. You know how those are always so funny at the time. I will paraphrase but ours said something like this about Jay & I. "Jay and Sarah are married with two kids and still here in Martinsville. Jay runs a ranch and Sarah is the court reporter for Clark County." Now, again, that is just from my memory, but it really did say that Jay had a ranch and I would be the local court reporter. How weird is that?
But really that became my dream, to be the court reporter here in my home county, and at that point I hadn't even started court reporting school yet, which I soon discovered was difficult and had a very high drop-out rate. When I did finally finish and get my license, there was no room in the inn for me here in Marshall. It's a one-horse town, so-to-speak. Two judges and one reporter pretty much covered it. I would have to wait it out. I didn't know the court reporter at the time who worked in Marshall but over time a relationship developed. "I'm Sarah, I live in Martinsville and I am a court reporter. Are you ready to retire yet?" That is pretty much how it evolved.
In 1996 I started my professional career (ha, that sounds so high and mighty, doesn't it?) okay, I started my job as a freelance court reporter. A very sweet gal in Monticello took me under her wing and showed me the ropes. I had to do a LOT of driving, but it was worth it. Most of my jobs were at least 80 miles away. I did that for about a year and then I had the opportunity for an officialship (which is what it's called when you are a reporter for the judicial system) in Lawrence County. I wasn't too cracked up about moving down there, but felt like it was an opportunity I could not refuse. It was my dream to be in the courtroom, here was my chance.
My hope all along was to work down there until the local reporter retired and then transfer to Marshall. That was my plan and I'm a good nag, but it didn't happen as quickly as I had hoped. Every few years at our seminar, I would walk up to the local reporter and ask her if she was ready yet. Nope, maybe in a couple years. This went on and on. Finally I gave up. I decided that I could work forever in Lawrence County waiting and then maybe I wouldn't even get the job up here. I was tired of the 50-mile commute every day, Jay and I had worked Dave's master financial plan and I pulled the plug. I would freelance from home and see what happens.
I was fortunate that the local freelance firm would hire me. One of the owners had been my teacher at court reporting school and I hadn't scared her too badly so they took me in. I thoroughly enjoyed working for them. It was so weird to work from home, not work every day, work when I want to (maybe at 12:30 a.m. because I had "played" all day). I was somewhere different almost every job and I like variation. It was way better than we had expected and I couldn't have asked for more. (And a bonus, grocery shopping during the day without children is awesome!)
In the fall of 2009, the local reporter notified me she would probably be retiring very soon, did I want the job? No, I told her, I'm very happy. A couple months later, the bailiff contacted me telling me he had heard the reporter was retiring, would I take her place? No, I thought that was what I wanted, but I'm so very happy. In January 2010, apparently after her official retirement announcement, the local State's Atty sent word my way that they would like me to consider her job. Thanks for thinking of me, but I'm not interested at this time.
Again, the reporter called me and we talked for a very long time. I know it was what I always dreamed of, but I couldn't imagine giving up what I had, the freedom, being close by for my family and my friends. I had her go over the pros and cons, the set-up here, the judge(s), the workload, etc. I had worked for 11 years in another circuit and amazingly enough, circuits (although side-by-side geographically) operate very differently.
I hung up, my mind was whirling. This had been my dream for so long and now here it was. She had been the reporter here for 32, would this chance come my way again if I decided I wanted it? And so the praying began.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Scottie
Last night as I was watching Game 6 of the World Series and rooting on my favorite team, The St. Louis Cardinals, I couldn't help but think of my maternal grandfather, Scottie. He was a serious Cardinals fan. He was an all-around sports fan really. He began his career after his military service as a high school teacher and coach, went on to become a superintendent, and in his retirement, a crop-insurance adjuster. I want to tell you a little bit about my grandpa, Scottie, and his earlier years. These are just a few of my favorite stories told to me, of course, and I may not have all the facts and details exactly right but here goes.
The stories that I love to hear about are his early days when he and grandma and their children (my mom and my aunts) were living in southern Illinois. He was a high school teacher and basketball coach for a tiny little town by the name of Tamms. This was down south and at a time when there were still problems with race and segregation. The high school burnt sometime around 1953 and to conduct basketball practice, my grandpa and his Tamms Eagles had to move these temporary classrooms off the gym floor...each and every day...and then return the temporary classrooms back onto the gym floor.
That alone takes quite a commitment and dedication. I have no idea what all these temporary classrooms consisted of, but I'm assuming at the least, they had temporary walls, a teacher's desk and student desks, not to mention classroom supplies which had to be around somewhere. So for two to three months during at least one basketball season, this is how the coach and his team began and ended each practice. Could be considered a warm-up and cool-down perhaps, but what a pain in the rear.
The real kicker to this is that because my grandpa allowed black boys to play on his team, no one would schedule games with their team. And if my memory is correct, the year that they did all this moving and rearranging for practices, there were either no regularly scheduled basketball games or very few games for them to play in. My grandpa persisted and continued to hold practices, continued to rearrange the gym each day...and the team kept showing up...knowing no one would want to play them and they probably wouldn't have any, or many, games.
The few games they got to play, and I can't remember if it was that same year or the year after, if the game was away and the team had to stop and eat, the restaurants would not allow the black players to come in with the rest of the team. They were told they had to eat outside or on the bus...so my grandpa required everyone to stay on the bus with the team and eat together as a team.
I don't know if they ever won any major awards, but they did have some regional and sectional wins and fairly decent records during my grandpa's tenure there. I can only assume that some of the boys on my grandpa's team learned a few life lessons from him and hopefully never forgot about Coach Lynch. One of my grandpa's former players, Charlie "Chico" Vaughn, played basketball for SIU at Carbondale and went on to play professional basketball for the St. Louis Hawks and the Detroit Pistons for five seasons before joining the ABA. He was, and I think still is, the highest scorer in Illinois Basketball History.
When my grandpa died in 2005, he was to be buried down south with my grandma in a tiny little town they grew up around, Ullin, Illinois, in a cemetery that was, and still is to some extent, segregated by a tree. It was mostly the immediate family who made the trip down for the burial so there weren't a lot of people there. Just after the ceremony began, I was honored to see a very tall, thin, black man walk from a car and join us as we gathered around my grandparent's plot...it was Chico Vaughn.
My grandpa was often a difficult man to please. He didn't like us kids making a lot of noise and wasn't the cuddly type either, but I loved and respected him a great deal. He taught me about making wise financial decisions and definitely about keeping track of spending habits. Towards the end of his life when he and grandma were brought back to live in Martinsville is when I really started to get to know him best. I was older and wiser and so was he;) I wish I had heard these stories from him instead of from others, but often times that's just how it goes, isn't it?
The stories that I love to hear about are his early days when he and grandma and their children (my mom and my aunts) were living in southern Illinois. He was a high school teacher and basketball coach for a tiny little town by the name of Tamms. This was down south and at a time when there were still problems with race and segregation. The high school burnt sometime around 1953 and to conduct basketball practice, my grandpa and his Tamms Eagles had to move these temporary classrooms off the gym floor...each and every day...and then return the temporary classrooms back onto the gym floor.
That alone takes quite a commitment and dedication. I have no idea what all these temporary classrooms consisted of, but I'm assuming at the least, they had temporary walls, a teacher's desk and student desks, not to mention classroom supplies which had to be around somewhere. So for two to three months during at least one basketball season, this is how the coach and his team began and ended each practice. Could be considered a warm-up and cool-down perhaps, but what a pain in the rear.
The real kicker to this is that because my grandpa allowed black boys to play on his team, no one would schedule games with their team. And if my memory is correct, the year that they did all this moving and rearranging for practices, there were either no regularly scheduled basketball games or very few games for them to play in. My grandpa persisted and continued to hold practices, continued to rearrange the gym each day...and the team kept showing up...knowing no one would want to play them and they probably wouldn't have any, or many, games.
The few games they got to play, and I can't remember if it was that same year or the year after, if the game was away and the team had to stop and eat, the restaurants would not allow the black players to come in with the rest of the team. They were told they had to eat outside or on the bus...so my grandpa required everyone to stay on the bus with the team and eat together as a team.
I don't know if they ever won any major awards, but they did have some regional and sectional wins and fairly decent records during my grandpa's tenure there. I can only assume that some of the boys on my grandpa's team learned a few life lessons from him and hopefully never forgot about Coach Lynch. One of my grandpa's former players, Charlie "Chico" Vaughn, played basketball for SIU at Carbondale and went on to play professional basketball for the St. Louis Hawks and the Detroit Pistons for five seasons before joining the ABA. He was, and I think still is, the highest scorer in Illinois Basketball History.
When my grandpa died in 2005, he was to be buried down south with my grandma in a tiny little town they grew up around, Ullin, Illinois, in a cemetery that was, and still is to some extent, segregated by a tree. It was mostly the immediate family who made the trip down for the burial so there weren't a lot of people there. Just after the ceremony began, I was honored to see a very tall, thin, black man walk from a car and join us as we gathered around my grandparent's plot...it was Chico Vaughn.
My grandpa was often a difficult man to please. He didn't like us kids making a lot of noise and wasn't the cuddly type either, but I loved and respected him a great deal. He taught me about making wise financial decisions and definitely about keeping track of spending habits. Towards the end of his life when he and grandma were brought back to live in Martinsville is when I really started to get to know him best. I was older and wiser and so was he;) I wish I had heard these stories from him instead of from others, but often times that's just how it goes, isn't it?
Friday, October 28, 2011
Trunk or Treat
A few years ago our church started the Trunk or Treat tradition. If you don't know what this is, here is a rundown. We go ahead and hold our Wednesday night youth meal and everyone is invited to dress up for Halloween. After supper, the kids/adults are taken outside where other members of our congregation are parked in the parking lot with their trunks open and decorated (back of truck, van, car, whatever). Usually they are dressed up as well.
It was pretty successful the first year and last year was even better. It is so fun to see the church get involved in something that some have all but outlawed because of evil undertones. I like Halloween and do not see it as anything related to the devil, because I do not make it as such. If I were worshiping at the feet of Satan on Halloween, it would be very different. If I were dressing as Betty Rubble in the name of the Devil, it may be different. I remember a little girl in Madolyn's class in second grade telling her it was the Devil's holiday. Ahhh, what can you do?! I see it as just a fun holiday tradition. It is one that I thoroughly enjoy because I love dressing up and trying to be creative!
Our members go all out too. I was amazed at some of them and their creativeness in decorating whatever car, truck or van they had. My father-in-decorated his orange truck as a pumpkin, literally, it was so neat. We've had some that have lights and music playing. Most members are dressed up right alongside their decorated autos. We load the kiddos up on sugar and lots of candy to take along and send them home. Sometimes the younger groups do an activity too. It is a great night. Fun, safe fellowship.
Tonight we had to have the Trunk or Treat in the new basement. It was a bummer, but thankfully, members still participated and did the best they could at dressing up and decorating their tables. We still had good participation. Most of the kids and almost all adults dressed up too. It's so fun to see everyone get involved. Usually the high school/college kids won't participate, but this year almost all of them did!! I was proud of them for going with it.
Last year the high school/college youth leaders went as Scooby Doo and the Gang, this year we are the Flinestones. Our sweet Hank the Tank was supposed to come as Dino, but his fat, chubby body would not squeeze into the costume. Our Bam Bam was recovering (thanks to the rain) from a busy harvest so he was MIA. I'm not sure that anyone knew who I was without the rest of them, my costume was kinda strange. And we soon figured out that the kids didn't really recognize the Flinestones. They said, oh, yeah, when we told them, but it didn't come right to them.
Since I have the whole picture thing on here figured out, I'm including a few pictures from this year and last. For whatever reason, I cannot get the Scooby Doo photo to enlarge without it being somewhat distorted (I'm still learning). I submitted our Scooby Doo & The Gang photo for a contest that my friend, Brenda, was holding on her blog http://www.apronsandappetites.com/ and we won. She sent me the coolest Frankenstein Candy Jar (should've taken a picture of it).
So plans will be in the works for next year's Trunk or Treat. My friend I call "Karie" had a great idea that we'll have to try to remember and fix up for 2012. The trouble will be remembering in time to actually get it ready. Halloween 2011 is almost in the books for us. I took my hoodlums to the nursing home trick or treat last week to see Grandma Great and this Saturday night, Jay will take the kiddos trick or treating in town. I think we will have plenty of treats to fill my new Frankenstein!
A few years ago our church started the Trunk or Treat tradition. If you don't know what this is, here is a rundown. We go ahead and hold our Wednesday night youth meal and everyone is invited to dress up for Halloween. After supper, the kids/adults are taken outside where other members of our congregation are parked in the parking lot with their trunks open and decorated (back of truck, van, car, whatever). Usually they are dressed up as well.
It was pretty successful the first year and last year was even better. It is so fun to see the church get involved in something that some have all but outlawed because of evil undertones. I like Halloween and do not see it as anything related to the devil, because I do not make it as such. If I were worshiping at the feet of Satan on Halloween, it would be very different. If I were dressing as Betty Rubble in the name of the Devil, it may be different. I remember a little girl in Madolyn's class in second grade telling her it was the Devil's holiday. Ahhh, what can you do?! I see it as just a fun holiday tradition. It is one that I thoroughly enjoy because I love dressing up and trying to be creative!
Our members go all out too. I was amazed at some of them and their creativeness in decorating whatever car, truck or van they had. My father-in-decorated his orange truck as a pumpkin, literally, it was so neat. We've had some that have lights and music playing. Most members are dressed up right alongside their decorated autos. We load the kiddos up on sugar and lots of candy to take along and send them home. Sometimes the younger groups do an activity too. It is a great night. Fun, safe fellowship.
Tonight we had to have the Trunk or Treat in the new basement. It was a bummer, but thankfully, members still participated and did the best they could at dressing up and decorating their tables. We still had good participation. Most of the kids and almost all adults dressed up too. It's so fun to see everyone get involved. Usually the high school/college kids won't participate, but this year almost all of them did!! I was proud of them for going with it.
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| Trunk or Treat 2010 |
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| Daphne & Freddie |
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| Meet the Flinestones |
So plans will be in the works for next year's Trunk or Treat. My friend I call "Karie" had a great idea that we'll have to try to remember and fix up for 2012. The trouble will be remembering in time to actually get it ready. Halloween 2011 is almost in the books for us. I took my hoodlums to the nursing home trick or treat last week to see Grandma Great and this Saturday night, Jay will take the kiddos trick or treating in town. I think we will have plenty of treats to fill my new Frankenstein!
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Compass anyone?
Directions, do you know them? I have always been so good at directions, but absolutely terrible at left and right. I feel like the directions never change. They are always in the same place. Left and right changes though. If you are facing north, right is on the east and left is on the west, and I feel like that is the way it should be. For the longest time I believed that to be the case, but that is not so according to Jay and the rest of the world...thus my problem.
I think the reason that I learned and remembered north, south, east and west so well is because that is how my grandma describes just about everything. For instance, her house faces north (approximately) and she has two bedrooms; one is on the west wall of the house, the other is on the east. In the west bedroom, there are two twin beds; one is on the west wall of the house and one is on the east wall of the west bedroom.
There are also two closets in the east and west bedrooms. Again, (you can see the pattern developing), they are identified by east and west in each bedroom. Inside the closets are shelves, only on one side, but they can still be identified by direction instead of right or left. Now, you can understand why it is I thoroughly understand directions and not necessarily left and right. It is my grandma's fault.
In the past few years, I have helped grandma with her decorating and switching seasons. When the time comes, she will say to me, "Go to the west bedroom and get in the east closet. On the west shelf there are pictures in plastic bags (of course) labeled (of course), by season, get the fall ones down." When we would stay overnight, she would ask me if I was sleeping in the east or west bed of the west bedroom. (I prefer the east because it was always closer to grandma and grandpa's room and I was afraid of burglars).
In her bathroom, there are storage cabinets above her tub area. You guessed it, there are two sets, one to be properly identified as the east cabinet and the other as the west. I know that the west cabinet holds the spring or summer flowers, whereas the east one holds the fall or winter stuff. She is rarely wrong, she really does know where this stuff "should be" if it was put away properly. It is funny to hear grandma out of her realm because she instantly asks what direction we are facing. She cannot get a handle on positioning until she knows where north is, I guess. She gets "so fouled up" when she is somewhere and gets "turned around" where she doesn't know which direction she is facing. It is a hoot.
So this is the story behind my expertise in the field of directions and my lack thereof when it comes to left and right. I do appreciate the little trick of holding the thumb and forefinger up as an "L" to indicate left, and I suppose remembering which hand I write with would help as well. I am so not exaggerating my grandma and this directional setup at all. It is the gospel. And just in case you're ever over at grandma's and she needs something out of the west closet in the east bedroom on the east shelf, and you have a compass handy, you will know just where to find it.
.
I think the reason that I learned and remembered north, south, east and west so well is because that is how my grandma describes just about everything. For instance, her house faces north (approximately) and she has two bedrooms; one is on the west wall of the house, the other is on the east. In the west bedroom, there are two twin beds; one is on the west wall of the house and one is on the east wall of the west bedroom.
There are also two closets in the east and west bedrooms. Again, (you can see the pattern developing), they are identified by east and west in each bedroom. Inside the closets are shelves, only on one side, but they can still be identified by direction instead of right or left. Now, you can understand why it is I thoroughly understand directions and not necessarily left and right. It is my grandma's fault.
In the past few years, I have helped grandma with her decorating and switching seasons. When the time comes, she will say to me, "Go to the west bedroom and get in the east closet. On the west shelf there are pictures in plastic bags (of course) labeled (of course), by season, get the fall ones down." When we would stay overnight, she would ask me if I was sleeping in the east or west bed of the west bedroom. (I prefer the east because it was always closer to grandma and grandpa's room and I was afraid of burglars).
In her bathroom, there are storage cabinets above her tub area. You guessed it, there are two sets, one to be properly identified as the east cabinet and the other as the west. I know that the west cabinet holds the spring or summer flowers, whereas the east one holds the fall or winter stuff. She is rarely wrong, she really does know where this stuff "should be" if it was put away properly. It is funny to hear grandma out of her realm because she instantly asks what direction we are facing. She cannot get a handle on positioning until she knows where north is, I guess. She gets "so fouled up" when she is somewhere and gets "turned around" where she doesn't know which direction she is facing. It is a hoot.
So this is the story behind my expertise in the field of directions and my lack thereof when it comes to left and right. I do appreciate the little trick of holding the thumb and forefinger up as an "L" to indicate left, and I suppose remembering which hand I write with would help as well. I am so not exaggerating my grandma and this directional setup at all. It is the gospel. And just in case you're ever over at grandma's and she needs something out of the west closet in the east bedroom on the east shelf, and you have a compass handy, you will know just where to find it.
.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Finally, it's almost done...
my landscaping out in front of the house, that is. This year I decided that I was sick and tired of hauling mulch every spring and then spreading it out, only to have to repeat the process the next year. I caved and ordered rock in June and had it delivered. I was going to replace the mulch with rock myself and save some money. I asked that the rock be delivered and dumped in my circle drive which would then force me to get the job done. And it was. A blue tarp was laid down in my circle drive and the rock was dumped on top of it directly in front of the sidewalk to my front door.
Right after the fair, Lane and I began working. First I had to pull a ton of weeds, and I do mean a ton. I had neglected it completely and it was late June, so you can imagine the overgrowth. Plus, I had decided that I really wanted to reshape it a little and move some plants around, take some out permanently, add a couple new ones. Then we could add the rock. Lane was such good help. He would scoop the rock into the wheelbarrow and I would move and dump it. He definitely had the harder job. Jay came along and we used the tractor and scoop which was a lifesaver, timesaver and backsaver. We couldn't use it everywhere, but where we did, it was awesome. We couldn't finish the rock until we had the edging done so that part came to a halt, which still left the blue tarp and rock in my circle drive directly in front of the sidewalk to my front door.
I think we had all of that done by early July. So I went and bought landscape edging at Terre Haute Menards when it was on sale. Bought the wrong ones. Went to Effingham Menards and bought the right ones. Dumped them out in the yard where they remained for at least six weeks. Neither Jay nor I could figure out how to do what it was I wanted done with those blocks. Returned those blocks to Menards and got refund. We were clueless and couldn't even agree on the next step.
In early-August, after Divinity Doll won her race, I placed the call to our local landscaper. "Help, we're at an impasse and we are done. Will you come finish?" They were busy at the time but would put us on their list. No rush, I told her, the tarp that you put down with the rock in my circle drive directly in front of the sidewalk to my front door is still there with rock on it. I cannot complain.
So here we are, late October, and the landscapers finished the rest of their part last night. Now, I just need to finish putting the rock up against the landscape edging and then I will be able to move the blue tarp that was put down with rock on it in my circle drive directly in front of the sidewalk to my front door. Hallelujah!
Right after the fair, Lane and I began working. First I had to pull a ton of weeds, and I do mean a ton. I had neglected it completely and it was late June, so you can imagine the overgrowth. Plus, I had decided that I really wanted to reshape it a little and move some plants around, take some out permanently, add a couple new ones. Then we could add the rock. Lane was such good help. He would scoop the rock into the wheelbarrow and I would move and dump it. He definitely had the harder job. Jay came along and we used the tractor and scoop which was a lifesaver, timesaver and backsaver. We couldn't use it everywhere, but where we did, it was awesome. We couldn't finish the rock until we had the edging done so that part came to a halt, which still left the blue tarp and rock in my circle drive directly in front of the sidewalk to my front door.
I think we had all of that done by early July. So I went and bought landscape edging at Terre Haute Menards when it was on sale. Bought the wrong ones. Went to Effingham Menards and bought the right ones. Dumped them out in the yard where they remained for at least six weeks. Neither Jay nor I could figure out how to do what it was I wanted done with those blocks. Returned those blocks to Menards and got refund. We were clueless and couldn't even agree on the next step.
In early-August, after Divinity Doll won her race, I placed the call to our local landscaper. "Help, we're at an impasse and we are done. Will you come finish?" They were busy at the time but would put us on their list. No rush, I told her, the tarp that you put down with the rock in my circle drive directly in front of the sidewalk to my front door is still there with rock on it. I cannot complain.
So here we are, late October, and the landscapers finished the rest of their part last night. Now, I just need to finish putting the rock up against the landscape edging and then I will be able to move the blue tarp that was put down with rock on it in my circle drive directly in front of the sidewalk to my front door. Hallelujah!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs...
"Mom, I smell smoke." In January or February of 2010, my son said those four words to me and I ignored him. We have a wood stove and it was winter, but we weren't going to be home long enough to start a fire. Knowing there was no fire going in the wood stove, I just passed it off.
Just prior to that, our septic system alarm had went off. I went downstairs and silenced it, writing a note to myself to tell Jay to check on it because last time I did this, I forgot and we burnt up our septic motor.
A little while later, I was pulling clothes out of the washer and putting them into the dryer. When I opened the dryer door, I noticed it smelled like smoke. Hmm, that's weird. Again, there wasn't a fire going downstairs in the wood stove. I hadn't been burning anything outside. Strange. I again ignored it.
After finishing with that load of clothes and gathering another to be washed, I sat down at the kitchen table to work on a transcript on my laptop (at that time I free-lanced and worked from home). I looked up and glanced out my patio doors and for a moment thought it looked really foggy outside. Hmm, it wasn't foggy earlier.
You know how sometimes it takes a while for something to click and then when it does, you think, duh, how could I have been so stupid? Well, this is a case in point. I got up from the table and went to the patio doors, looked out, saw how foggy it was, decided to open the door and step out on the deck. That is when I heard a sound that is just sickening. Fire crackling. Not a-good-ole-campfire either. It was our goat shed and it was completely engulfed on the east side. Our babies were huddled up underneath the hay feeder and the mamas were standing close by their babies continuing to eat, of course. (Apparently not only will goats eat just about anything, they can eat just about any time or under any circumstances.) Our horse, Woody, was also standing very close by just staring at the fire.
Panic and hysteria set in. The kids came. More panic and hysteria. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. I bet that was interesting from the other end. My kids were screaming and bawling. The 911 operator asked me if my kids were hurt and I told her no, but they were screaming because our goats and horse were standing very near to the fire and they wanted me to save them.
When you live in a very rural town, word spreads very quickly. People here love their scanners and people here know people here. Immediately, I started getting phone calls. I was trying desperately to get the hose strung out to reach the goat shed. Suddenly my cousin, I've called "Spank" since he was two and he's now in his mid-20's, came to my rescue. He had heard it on the scanner. We had just bought hay, $75 worth, and I wasn't about to let it burn up so I had already started throwing bales. Spank helped and we cleared it all out. We got the babies out and took them to the garage with my kids. Spank stood with the hose doing what he could to keep the fire contained. It was very, very windy that day.
Before long, my brother appeared and the fire department...and half of our town's population. We live down a long lane so most of the spectators just parked out on the road. There is no way they could see anything, but I know how it is. Our local volunteer fire department came out in full force and were very kind and helpful. The fire was contained and under control. My uncle and father-in-law showed up and between them and Spank and my brother, we were able to put everything in order. It's amazing that just 45 minutes before I was tossing hay bales like they were weight-less, suddenly they weighed tons.
We had new babies and had recently moved them out to the goat shed (from the garage, thank God). It was still pretty chilly so we were using a heat lamp to keep the babies warm. As mentioned before, goats will eat and chew on just about everything, including electrical wire. Apparently, they had chewed threw the heat lamp cord, which shorted out the electricity in the goat shed, which is hooked to the septic system electricity, which is why the septic system alarm went off.
Here is a funny from the fiasco. On the 911 call-out over the scanner, they mentioned our address and a goat farm, which is funny, because there were only about six goats at the time. Besides my cousin hearing that and knowing it was our house, the family that owns our local gas station was quite concerned about the goats welfare. (They are always asking right before Easter to purchase a young goat as that is their custom.) So when they saw a local fireman later that night, they inquired whether any goats had been lost or hurt. Too funny. Good to know they weren't concerned about our safety or our property or anything like that!
I was somewhat embarrassed because it was just a small goat shed, nothing fancy at all. Our animals were fine. Only half of the goat shed was destroyed. It seemed like such a fuss over nothing, but I didn't know what else to do. I felt so helpless, I couldn't just stand there and let it burn. I remembered how shaky and sick to my stomach I was after that. I cannot even imagine what it would feel like if it were my house. That sound was sickening. I now have a new appreciation for people who have house fires and have to stand by and watch.
Hopefully the next time my son says he smells smoke, an alarm alerts on the septic system, I smell smoke inside my clothes dryer and I think it looks foggy outside when it wasn't just an hour earlier, I'll pick up on those signs, signs, everywhere signs...
Just prior to that, our septic system alarm had went off. I went downstairs and silenced it, writing a note to myself to tell Jay to check on it because last time I did this, I forgot and we burnt up our septic motor.
A little while later, I was pulling clothes out of the washer and putting them into the dryer. When I opened the dryer door, I noticed it smelled like smoke. Hmm, that's weird. Again, there wasn't a fire going downstairs in the wood stove. I hadn't been burning anything outside. Strange. I again ignored it.
After finishing with that load of clothes and gathering another to be washed, I sat down at the kitchen table to work on a transcript on my laptop (at that time I free-lanced and worked from home). I looked up and glanced out my patio doors and for a moment thought it looked really foggy outside. Hmm, it wasn't foggy earlier.
You know how sometimes it takes a while for something to click and then when it does, you think, duh, how could I have been so stupid? Well, this is a case in point. I got up from the table and went to the patio doors, looked out, saw how foggy it was, decided to open the door and step out on the deck. That is when I heard a sound that is just sickening. Fire crackling. Not a-good-ole-campfire either. It was our goat shed and it was completely engulfed on the east side. Our babies were huddled up underneath the hay feeder and the mamas were standing close by their babies continuing to eat, of course. (Apparently not only will goats eat just about anything, they can eat just about any time or under any circumstances.) Our horse, Woody, was also standing very close by just staring at the fire.
Panic and hysteria set in. The kids came. More panic and hysteria. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. I bet that was interesting from the other end. My kids were screaming and bawling. The 911 operator asked me if my kids were hurt and I told her no, but they were screaming because our goats and horse were standing very near to the fire and they wanted me to save them.
When you live in a very rural town, word spreads very quickly. People here love their scanners and people here know people here. Immediately, I started getting phone calls. I was trying desperately to get the hose strung out to reach the goat shed. Suddenly my cousin, I've called "Spank" since he was two and he's now in his mid-20's, came to my rescue. He had heard it on the scanner. We had just bought hay, $75 worth, and I wasn't about to let it burn up so I had already started throwing bales. Spank helped and we cleared it all out. We got the babies out and took them to the garage with my kids. Spank stood with the hose doing what he could to keep the fire contained. It was very, very windy that day.
Before long, my brother appeared and the fire department...and half of our town's population. We live down a long lane so most of the spectators just parked out on the road. There is no way they could see anything, but I know how it is. Our local volunteer fire department came out in full force and were very kind and helpful. The fire was contained and under control. My uncle and father-in-law showed up and between them and Spank and my brother, we were able to put everything in order. It's amazing that just 45 minutes before I was tossing hay bales like they were weight-less, suddenly they weighed tons.
We had new babies and had recently moved them out to the goat shed (from the garage, thank God). It was still pretty chilly so we were using a heat lamp to keep the babies warm. As mentioned before, goats will eat and chew on just about everything, including electrical wire. Apparently, they had chewed threw the heat lamp cord, which shorted out the electricity in the goat shed, which is hooked to the septic system electricity, which is why the septic system alarm went off.
Here is a funny from the fiasco. On the 911 call-out over the scanner, they mentioned our address and a goat farm, which is funny, because there were only about six goats at the time. Besides my cousin hearing that and knowing it was our house, the family that owns our local gas station was quite concerned about the goats welfare. (They are always asking right before Easter to purchase a young goat as that is their custom.) So when they saw a local fireman later that night, they inquired whether any goats had been lost or hurt. Too funny. Good to know they weren't concerned about our safety or our property or anything like that!
I was somewhat embarrassed because it was just a small goat shed, nothing fancy at all. Our animals were fine. Only half of the goat shed was destroyed. It seemed like such a fuss over nothing, but I didn't know what else to do. I felt so helpless, I couldn't just stand there and let it burn. I remembered how shaky and sick to my stomach I was after that. I cannot even imagine what it would feel like if it were my house. That sound was sickening. I now have a new appreciation for people who have house fires and have to stand by and watch.
Hopefully the next time my son says he smells smoke, an alarm alerts on the septic system, I smell smoke inside my clothes dryer and I think it looks foggy outside when it wasn't just an hour earlier, I'll pick up on those signs, signs, everywhere signs...
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sweet victory
Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand. Isaiah 41:10 (NLT)
I did it. I survived the Shawnee trail ride. And it was a struggle to start with, let me tell you. There were 14 of us that went. We had four trucks with large trailers and one pickup truck. We packed up on Friday evening and headed south, making a pit-stop for supper at my all-time favorite crappy-tavern, Syd's, for tacos. I called ahead and ordered up 30 tacos so that when we stopped we wouldn't have to wait. It was quite interesting driving past with the large horse trailers and parking along the street in the grass. We got a few stares.
We filled up on tacos, loaded up and got back on the road again for our destination, Double M Horsecamp in Shawnee. It was late by the time we got there and unpacking was interesting in the darkness, but all was good. I sat around the fire with a few people and I think it was about 1:30 when I finally turned in. I could still hear my daughter and her two friends giggling and laughing when I went in the bunk house. They were sleeping in the horse trailer...thankfully.
I should mention here that in case you didn't read an earlier post, I had a prior bad experience with trail riding. In fact, I haven't been on a horse really since and that was in June of 2010. Madolyn was going on this trip and I had an open invitation and decided I needed to go and be with my daughter. I told my friend "Karie" that I was NOT riding Melodee and could only go if she had something I could ride. Yes, she had her mare, Okie, that was very good and thought we would be a good match.
After eating a yummy breakfast at the Double M restaurant, we saddled up and headed out for a day on the trails. As soon as I hopped on the saddle, my nerves shot through the roof. Suddenly, I had this overwhelming realization that what I was about to do was completely ridiculous and stupid on my part. I really had not been on any horse for any kind of ride in over a year and I had NEVER been on this one. I recall one of the other more experienced riders asking me if I was okay, to which I responded, well, no, not really, I have never ever been on this horse. She just looked at me, trying not to alarm me, but I can only imagine what she was thinking, i.e., this girl is crazy.
I could not get sweet Okie to stand still. She prefers to keep moving. My nerves were completely shot, I was in fear-overload and seriously considered getting off and reading my Nook the rest of the day at the campsite. I had a whole host of emotions coming over me, but extreme panic was the leading force. As we headed off to the woods to begin the trail, I was in prayer. As we stepped into the woods, I was in prayer. For about the first 15-20 minutes, I was in prayer.
Then I realized that this horse, Okie, and I were going to be friends and we would do just fine. It clicked just like that. She was a sweetie, she took small steps, liked to look at everything and was very gentle. I talked to her the entire day. When we made it through something I thought questionable, I would pat her on the side and tell her good job or that she was a good girl. I am sure that those around me thought I was completely nuts, but it worked for us. We were kicked once by the horse in front of us and we kicked the horse behind us once. As long as we didn't stop, we were good. Stopping made her uneasy or something which then caused me concern, but I figured her out and by the end of the day, I could deal with her impatience (I know someone with some of that too, so we could connect).
We rode about three hours and stopped for lunch which we packed with us. We got back on the trail and rode another three hours or so. By the end of the ride, my lower back, butt and knees were incredibly sore, but I had made it. I was so excited. I got giddy towards the end. We were ready to be done and I hurt all over so I started singing church camp songs. Then the girls joined me. We weren't exactly with a church group so I'm guessing they thought we were nuts (and maybe annoying) if they could hear us. Oh and my girls (my daughter and her bff) were driving me nuts too, I was ready to get away from them. They loved watching my expressions as my horse would gallop, cantor, trot, whatever-you-call-it, to speed up to the horse in front...so they would purposely stop and wait to get a little behind and then take off. They would turn around and watch me. I could've strangled both of them, except I really didn't have the energy.
We arrived back at the campsite. I slid off the horse. Took a few moments to straighten out my legs and put our things away. We went and ate a big supper at the Double M (ribeye for me and some fantastic sweet tea) and finally I was able to call home and tell Jay that I/we had survived the day. I then crawled into my bunk at 8:30 and went to sleep. It was a good day. I had done it. Yes.
The next morning we decided to take a two-hour ride before heading home. It was quite painful to sit back down on that saddle, but it was also amazing. I climbed up on Okie and rode her around. Someone commented to me "Sarah, you just stand out on that horse today." I was so incredibly calm and comfortable that morning, it was awesome. I was excited to be going out for another ride again.
It wasn't quite as great as the day before because I rode the two-hour trail in constant pain. I kept thinking, I am so out of shape and getting old, this is pitiful...but maybe I should've rode a horse at least once or twice for at least an hour or so before deciding to get on one for six hours straight, huh? I hear it's much better the next time. I'm looking forward to it. Okie and I are friends. It was a sweet victory...I conquered my fears. And now I am ready to buy myself a horse. Saddle up, partner, here I come!
 |
| Gettin' started...Okie & I are behind the white horse. |
I did it. I survived the Shawnee trail ride. And it was a struggle to start with, let me tell you. There were 14 of us that went. We had four trucks with large trailers and one pickup truck. We packed up on Friday evening and headed south, making a pit-stop for supper at my all-time favorite crappy-tavern, Syd's, for tacos. I called ahead and ordered up 30 tacos so that when we stopped we wouldn't have to wait. It was quite interesting driving past with the large horse trailers and parking along the street in the grass. We got a few stares.
We filled up on tacos, loaded up and got back on the road again for our destination, Double M Horsecamp in Shawnee. It was late by the time we got there and unpacking was interesting in the darkness, but all was good. I sat around the fire with a few people and I think it was about 1:30 when I finally turned in. I could still hear my daughter and her two friends giggling and laughing when I went in the bunk house. They were sleeping in the horse trailer...thankfully.
I should mention here that in case you didn't read an earlier post, I had a prior bad experience with trail riding. In fact, I haven't been on a horse really since and that was in June of 2010. Madolyn was going on this trip and I had an open invitation and decided I needed to go and be with my daughter. I told my friend "Karie" that I was NOT riding Melodee and could only go if she had something I could ride. Yes, she had her mare, Okie, that was very good and thought we would be a good match.
After eating a yummy breakfast at the Double M restaurant, we saddled up and headed out for a day on the trails. As soon as I hopped on the saddle, my nerves shot through the roof. Suddenly, I had this overwhelming realization that what I was about to do was completely ridiculous and stupid on my part. I really had not been on any horse for any kind of ride in over a year and I had NEVER been on this one. I recall one of the other more experienced riders asking me if I was okay, to which I responded, well, no, not really, I have never ever been on this horse. She just looked at me, trying not to alarm me, but I can only imagine what she was thinking, i.e., this girl is crazy.
I could not get sweet Okie to stand still. She prefers to keep moving. My nerves were completely shot, I was in fear-overload and seriously considered getting off and reading my Nook the rest of the day at the campsite. I had a whole host of emotions coming over me, but extreme panic was the leading force. As we headed off to the woods to begin the trail, I was in prayer. As we stepped into the woods, I was in prayer. For about the first 15-20 minutes, I was in prayer.
Then I realized that this horse, Okie, and I were going to be friends and we would do just fine. It clicked just like that. She was a sweetie, she took small steps, liked to look at everything and was very gentle. I talked to her the entire day. When we made it through something I thought questionable, I would pat her on the side and tell her good job or that she was a good girl. I am sure that those around me thought I was completely nuts, but it worked for us. We were kicked once by the horse in front of us and we kicked the horse behind us once. As long as we didn't stop, we were good. Stopping made her uneasy or something which then caused me concern, but I figured her out and by the end of the day, I could deal with her impatience (I know someone with some of that too, so we could connect).
We rode about three hours and stopped for lunch which we packed with us. We got back on the trail and rode another three hours or so. By the end of the ride, my lower back, butt and knees were incredibly sore, but I had made it. I was so excited. I got giddy towards the end. We were ready to be done and I hurt all over so I started singing church camp songs. Then the girls joined me. We weren't exactly with a church group so I'm guessing they thought we were nuts (and maybe annoying) if they could hear us. Oh and my girls (my daughter and her bff) were driving me nuts too, I was ready to get away from them. They loved watching my expressions as my horse would gallop, cantor, trot, whatever-you-call-it, to speed up to the horse in front...so they would purposely stop and wait to get a little behind and then take off. They would turn around and watch me. I could've strangled both of them, except I really didn't have the energy.
We arrived back at the campsite. I slid off the horse. Took a few moments to straighten out my legs and put our things away. We went and ate a big supper at the Double M (ribeye for me and some fantastic sweet tea) and finally I was able to call home and tell Jay that I/we had survived the day. I then crawled into my bunk at 8:30 and went to sleep. It was a good day. I had done it. Yes.
 |
| This is easy...(except my knees hurt so bad I want to cry). |
The next morning we decided to take a two-hour ride before heading home. It was quite painful to sit back down on that saddle, but it was also amazing. I climbed up on Okie and rode her around. Someone commented to me "Sarah, you just stand out on that horse today." I was so incredibly calm and comfortable that morning, it was awesome. I was excited to be going out for another ride again.
It wasn't quite as great as the day before because I rode the two-hour trail in constant pain. I kept thinking, I am so out of shape and getting old, this is pitiful...but maybe I should've rode a horse at least once or twice for at least an hour or so before deciding to get on one for six hours straight, huh? I hear it's much better the next time. I'm looking forward to it. Okie and I are friends. It was a sweet victory...I conquered my fears. And now I am ready to buy myself a horse. Saddle up, partner, here I come!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Use 'em or lose 'em
God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another. 1 Peter 4:10 (NLT)
Talents and Gifts, everybody has them, right? Even when you think you don't. There is something you're good at, something that you can do just a little bit better than someone else and hopefully it's something you enjoy. Our church talent show is tonight and I cannot wait. I don't sing well enough to actually sing a special and although I can read music and play one-handed piano, as long as there's not too many sharps or flats, I'm not about to play a special on the piano. But that is the great thing about the individuals God created us to be. We are different.
Our praise band had our very first talent show back in April of this year and it was a blast. They did it as a fundraiser. There was a meal and then the talent show following. The band played several songs and then various other members of the church had specials, skits, jokes. It was great. We even had ZZtop and Johnny Cash perform for us, which was quite interesting considering we were in church. It was such a fun night though.
My friend, the one I call Beth, and I did a little skit roasting several members of the congregation and tying it into a sermon on gossip...again, as if we didn't get it the first few times the preacher spoke on it. I don't know about everyone else, but I sure had a good time doing it. We have something cooked up for this time around too. We haven't practiced it a lick and aren't sure exactly what we're going to end up with , but it will be okay.
I'm so looking forward to the things the kids come up with. I know of at least one other skit. The praise band will do a few songs. (And really I could just sit there an hour or so listening to them play.) I saw on the list that a few of our older bunch (like my parents) have signed up. The Quackers are having a One-Minute Comedy Hour. Cannot wait. I say it will be just like an evening at home.
I really love my church family and enjoy the time we can spend in fellowship, worship and laughing. We are a pretty easy-going bunch. You don't have to dress up. We are a come-as-you-are congregation. Just ask my daughter. If you read this in time and want to come on out, there is a meal at 5:00 and a Talent Show at 6:00. It is a free-will donation event for the Praise Band. God gave you a special gift or talent and he wants you to share it to build others up. Don't keep it to yourself. Use 'em or lose 'em...
Talents and Gifts, everybody has them, right? Even when you think you don't. There is something you're good at, something that you can do just a little bit better than someone else and hopefully it's something you enjoy. Our church talent show is tonight and I cannot wait. I don't sing well enough to actually sing a special and although I can read music and play one-handed piano, as long as there's not too many sharps or flats, I'm not about to play a special on the piano. But that is the great thing about the individuals God created us to be. We are different.
Our praise band had our very first talent show back in April of this year and it was a blast. They did it as a fundraiser. There was a meal and then the talent show following. The band played several songs and then various other members of the church had specials, skits, jokes. It was great. We even had ZZtop and Johnny Cash perform for us, which was quite interesting considering we were in church. It was such a fun night though.
My friend, the one I call Beth, and I did a little skit roasting several members of the congregation and tying it into a sermon on gossip...again, as if we didn't get it the first few times the preacher spoke on it. I don't know about everyone else, but I sure had a good time doing it. We have something cooked up for this time around too. We haven't practiced it a lick and aren't sure exactly what we're going to end up with , but it will be okay.
I'm so looking forward to the things the kids come up with. I know of at least one other skit. The praise band will do a few songs. (And really I could just sit there an hour or so listening to them play.) I saw on the list that a few of our older bunch (like my parents) have signed up. The Quackers are having a One-Minute Comedy Hour. Cannot wait. I say it will be just like an evening at home.
I really love my church family and enjoy the time we can spend in fellowship, worship and laughing. We are a pretty easy-going bunch. You don't have to dress up. We are a come-as-you-are congregation. Just ask my daughter. If you read this in time and want to come on out, there is a meal at 5:00 and a Talent Show at 6:00. It is a free-will donation event for the Praise Band. God gave you a special gift or talent and he wants you to share it to build others up. Don't keep it to yourself. Use 'em or lose 'em...
Saturday, October 22, 2011
3 Rules for a Birthday Party Sleepover
Last night my son informed me that he has three rules for a birthday party sleepover. Interesting that he would be worried about these rules now as his birthday is in April...and six months ago we had 10 boys ranging from age 6-8 for the sleepover. I could've used these rules then. Maybe he's being thoughtful and preparing me for next year. Lane is going to a birthday party sleepover tonight. I should send the birthday boy's mom a list of these rules so she'll be prepared.
#1, Be Respectful. It is funny to hear my seven-year-old say this, although I know it is one of the top three rules at his school so he probably hears it all the time. My thought was, I wonder who the kids are to be respectful to...I'm guessing the birthday boy!
#2, Pick up after yourself. This one really took me by surprise since I am constantly harping my kids on how poor they are about picking up their messes. I think Lane has figured out that what those kids don't pick up, he will have to...so that could be his motivation.
And this last one is a classic. Apparently after discussion with his friend I'll call Korbin, they decided this final rule was a must. Drum roll, please...
#3, If you have gas, go to the basement or go outside. I mean, really, is there any more I could add to that?
#1, Be Respectful. It is funny to hear my seven-year-old say this, although I know it is one of the top three rules at his school so he probably hears it all the time. My thought was, I wonder who the kids are to be respectful to...I'm guessing the birthday boy!
#2, Pick up after yourself. This one really took me by surprise since I am constantly harping my kids on how poor they are about picking up their messes. I think Lane has figured out that what those kids don't pick up, he will have to...so that could be his motivation.
And this last one is a classic. Apparently after discussion with his friend I'll call Korbin, they decided this final rule was a must. Drum roll, please...
#3, If you have gas, go to the basement or go outside. I mean, really, is there any more I could add to that?
Friday, October 21, 2011
I guess death row is better...
...than living at the Wilhoit Ranch. That is basically what I got out of our experience of trying to do the right thing and adopt a dog from a pound or rescue center instead of going out and buying an over-bred pup for a ridiculous amount of money only to have him die before his time. After, I don't know, maybe Archie or Duke's demise, that was our thought process. We'd had two Labs die on bike rides in the past three years. Maybe they're over bred and we should save a pup or dog that needs rescued. Sounds like the noble thing to do, doesn't?
So I began the search. I spent quite a few days online finding shelters and pounds and scrolling through picture after picture of dog in need of a home. I don't remember exact details or conversations, but here is a synopsis of how this went down. I would find one that I thought may be a good match for us and place the call. We would do sort of an on-phone interview. They would question me about our history with animals, etc. It never ended in our favor.
I called a local humane society and found they had a dog that sounded perfect. She started asking me the usual questions, I gave the usual answers. "Do you have a fenced-in yard?" "No, ma'am, we have seven acres down a long lane, we don't need one." "Will the dog be in the house?" "No, not necessarily." "Well, where will he sleep? Don't you have coyotes?" (WHAT?) "The dog can sleep in our garage." "So you'll contain him in the garage?" "No, we have a dog-door so that he can come and go as he pleases." Silence. Not good enough. What I wanted to say is that we normally string them up from a tree at night and dangle them as bait for those blood-thirsty coyotes. HONESTLY.
One particular lady at a shelter I spoke with was quite concerned with the fact that we had a nine-year-old cat that wasn't current on its vaccinations. She asked me if we vaccinated our cat. I said, no, not since he was a kitten and got fixed. "Well, how do you know he's not sick with something that can spread to a puppy?" (Here we go again) "I guess I don't, but these dogs are in jeopardy, right? They're going to die if you don't find them a home?" "Yes, but we must insure they are going to a safe and proper home." All righty then. Again, what I wanted to say was this cat has outlived any animal we have ever had and I'm beginning to think it's because we don't get all the required vaccines and medicines for him! He is a living legend at our house. I'm not about to screw that up now (btw, he's going on 13.5 yrs). Again, a big fat NO on saving that dog from the needle.
I remember there was one older dog down in southern Indiana at a Humane Society. I was really taken with her picture and that she was listed as "urgent" so I figured this was a sure thing. I was thoroughly prepared to drive the two hours south to get her the very next day. I talked to the lady and she quizzed me on our past animals. I figured all was well. She asked who are vet was and took down some more information and said she would call me back. Cool.
She calls me back all right...and says to me in an accusatory tone, "You failed to mention your beagle, Archie. What happened to THAT one?" Seriously, she had called our vet. I told her we only had Archie a short time and loved the little guy a bunch, but Jay ran over him one day. It was purely an accident, of course. And you guessed it, what I really wanted to say to her is that, yeah, we hated the little stinker so we smashed him in front of our kids...we had spent a few hundred dollars on him just prior to that because for some reason his feet curled in when he was a puppy and we had to get that straightened out. We decided we didn't like him anymore. GOOD GRIEF. And in all honesty, I forgot about Archie. I told her about all the others. Apparently that was a fatal error.
So what I gathered from this experience was that although these animals were marked urgent and in immediate need of a home, euthanasia was a better option than living at the Wilhoit Ranch. Did I mention that in a lot of these instances, there was a pretty substantial fee to adopt a pet, some over $400. Could it be that maybe one (of many, I'm sure) reason pounds and shelters are crammed full is that 1) people can't afford the $400+ adoption fee and 2) someone's set the standard on a safe environment for a pet a tad high. I guess they feel like death row is better...
So I began the search. I spent quite a few days online finding shelters and pounds and scrolling through picture after picture of dog in need of a home. I don't remember exact details or conversations, but here is a synopsis of how this went down. I would find one that I thought may be a good match for us and place the call. We would do sort of an on-phone interview. They would question me about our history with animals, etc. It never ended in our favor.
I called a local humane society and found they had a dog that sounded perfect. She started asking me the usual questions, I gave the usual answers. "Do you have a fenced-in yard?" "No, ma'am, we have seven acres down a long lane, we don't need one." "Will the dog be in the house?" "No, not necessarily." "Well, where will he sleep? Don't you have coyotes?" (WHAT?) "The dog can sleep in our garage." "So you'll contain him in the garage?" "No, we have a dog-door so that he can come and go as he pleases." Silence. Not good enough. What I wanted to say is that we normally string them up from a tree at night and dangle them as bait for those blood-thirsty coyotes. HONESTLY.
One particular lady at a shelter I spoke with was quite concerned with the fact that we had a nine-year-old cat that wasn't current on its vaccinations. She asked me if we vaccinated our cat. I said, no, not since he was a kitten and got fixed. "Well, how do you know he's not sick with something that can spread to a puppy?" (Here we go again) "I guess I don't, but these dogs are in jeopardy, right? They're going to die if you don't find them a home?" "Yes, but we must insure they are going to a safe and proper home." All righty then. Again, what I wanted to say was this cat has outlived any animal we have ever had and I'm beginning to think it's because we don't get all the required vaccines and medicines for him! He is a living legend at our house. I'm not about to screw that up now (btw, he's going on 13.5 yrs). Again, a big fat NO on saving that dog from the needle.
I remember there was one older dog down in southern Indiana at a Humane Society. I was really taken with her picture and that she was listed as "urgent" so I figured this was a sure thing. I was thoroughly prepared to drive the two hours south to get her the very next day. I talked to the lady and she quizzed me on our past animals. I figured all was well. She asked who are vet was and took down some more information and said she would call me back. Cool.
She calls me back all right...and says to me in an accusatory tone, "You failed to mention your beagle, Archie. What happened to THAT one?" Seriously, she had called our vet. I told her we only had Archie a short time and loved the little guy a bunch, but Jay ran over him one day. It was purely an accident, of course. And you guessed it, what I really wanted to say to her is that, yeah, we hated the little stinker so we smashed him in front of our kids...we had spent a few hundred dollars on him just prior to that because for some reason his feet curled in when he was a puppy and we had to get that straightened out. We decided we didn't like him anymore. GOOD GRIEF. And in all honesty, I forgot about Archie. I told her about all the others. Apparently that was a fatal error.
So what I gathered from this experience was that although these animals were marked urgent and in immediate need of a home, euthanasia was a better option than living at the Wilhoit Ranch. Did I mention that in a lot of these instances, there was a pretty substantial fee to adopt a pet, some over $400. Could it be that maybe one (of many, I'm sure) reason pounds and shelters are crammed full is that 1) people can't afford the $400+ adoption fee and 2) someone's set the standard on a safe environment for a pet a tad high. I guess they feel like death row is better...
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The "Trail" Ride
Please note that the word trail is in quotations. That is because in this particular case I think the word "trail" was used as candy to entice a simpleton like myself into thinking that I was capable of doing this. When someone says there is a trail, (at least in my mind) it tends to make me believe there is a cleared path or walkway. It was not so.
Last June we decided to buy Lane a horse of his own. He and Madolyn had been taking riding lessons with our friend and she was letting Lane ride Melodee. They got along great and we ended up buying her. This particular weekend, there was a 4H horse camp at Martinsville and then on Sunday a large group of 4H'ers were going on a trail ride. Jay was working, of course, but the kids and I were set to go. Our friend, I'll call her Karie, was prepared to help me with all of this as I was just learning the ropes, so-to-speak.
Sunday morning we skipped church, maybe that was part of the problem, and headed to the meeting place for the ride. The plan was that Madolyn would ride Woody, her horse, and I would ride Melodee, Lane would ride on the back of a mule with another experienced rider. We didn't feel I was ready or capable to have a passenger just yet, after all, this was my very first trail ride. We had only owned Melodee about 48 hours, but Lane had ridden her several times and she was sweet with him. I really had no major concerns.
I'm going to guess there were about 20 or so of us riding, most on horses, some on mules. Off we went. I think I started out being behind Madolyn & Woody, about sixth from the front. It was a beautiful day. We were in a pretty area, lots of trees, a large pond, and a large woods...which we turned into for the ride. I'm still pretty calm at this point. We're going along nose-to-tail, pretty slow. This is going to be awesome.
Until Melodee started slamming me into trees, literally. I mean she would see a tree and get as close as possible to it, so that my leg was pinched in between it and her belly, or my shoulders would scrap along a branch or the trunk of a tree. I was getting pretty frustrated. Karie kept telling me that she was just testing me and I needed to stay in control. Oh, yes, control, I like that.
Then we came to a downed tree lying across what someone in this group had termed a trail. The five horses before me slowly stepped over the tree, Melodee and I jumped it. Off went my sunglasses. Oh my, that was crazy, I'm trying to stay calm when the voice inside of me is screaming "HELP ME!" Someone retrieved my glasses for me and we continued on nose-to-tail along the "trail."
We came upon a small stream/creek. Again, while the horses before me were tip-toeing over it gently, Melodee sorta teetered back and lunged across it. All I could think of was to hang on and never let go, and after shutting my eyes tight, that is what I did. My friend Karie had told me once before during a riding lesson that they won't hurt themselves intentionally, so staying on their back is your best bet.
Now, about this time I'm becoming a tiny bit concerned because it is obvious there is NO TRAIL. I could tell that we are blazing it as we went along. There were huge hills with small creeks or streams in between them, there were trees down everywhere, lots of brush. We were zig-zagging our way through the thick. I kept hoping just over the next hill, I would see an actual clear-cut path.
At this point someone in front of me got caught up in barbwire that was lying across the ground. We all had to stop, which Melodee had had a problem with the entire ride. She wanted to keep going, and the more I would try to pull her back, the crazier she would become. Where we stopped for the tangled barbwire was on a hill with a RAVINE below it. It wasn't a huge ravine, but big enough that most horses were going to have to jump over it. No big deal. And again, Melodee is sorta pacing, sidestepping, she will not hold still.
I am starting to panic, I'm verbalizing my fears, my heart is pounding, I'm pleading for help (all of which fuel a horse's fire). Everyone is telling me to just relax and it will be okay. Yeah, right...I feel it coming and off we go. Melodee hunkers down, leans back and we lunge forward, leaping across this ravine. Remember there are at least 15 people behind me watching, only one or two other people had crossed because of the barbwire snafu. I am sure I probably let out a scream in flight and hung on tight. I landed hard but was still on that dern horse. I can hear comments about how amazing that was, wow, can't believe you held on, that was some jump, etc. Had I been a more experienced rider, I probably would have appreciated those comments, but they weren't very comforting to me.
I start crying and tell them to get me out of there, I want off of this stupid horse, I am done, I'm never riding again, etc. I then look up to see Madolyn watching me. Busted. How on earth could I quit now? If I quit this ride, I will never ever live it down in my kids' eyes. Because if there comes a time when they struggle with something and I tell them to stay the course, they're going to throw this ride back in my face. "Remember that time you quit the trail ride because you got scared?" OKAY! I decided I had to buck up and finish the ride. I whispered SEVERAL prayers during the remainder of the ride for safety, comfort, wisdom, guidance and just about everything under the sun to get me through it. We jumped over one smaller stream after that, which was now old news to me. I grabbed the horn of the saddle tight, shut my eyes and off we went.
The only highlight was hearing Lane yell from across that big ravine, "Mom, that was awesome!" My little man thought me jumping that ravine on Melodee was awesome. (If he had been in front of me, he would've had a much different view...of Mama's panicked-fear-stricken-face.) Jay got quite an earful that evening. I ended up with a case of whiplash and had to visit the local chiropractor the very next day. It was painful, but he fixed me up and after a few days, I could barely tell my neck was sore. I had scratches on my arms and legs from Melodee ramming me into trees and branches.
Even now, some of those people with us that day will say, "Wow, I still can't believe you stayed on that horse." I suppose that is a compliment, right? I have been assured by many that that was not a typical "trail" ride; we were just riding through a woods. I haven't been on another trail ride since, nor have I been on Melodee. This weekend a group is going to Shawnee to trail ride and I am going along. Please pray for me, I will need it. I'm thinking I'll take along my tennis shoes in case I decide to start walking...
Last June we decided to buy Lane a horse of his own. He and Madolyn had been taking riding lessons with our friend and she was letting Lane ride Melodee. They got along great and we ended up buying her. This particular weekend, there was a 4H horse camp at Martinsville and then on Sunday a large group of 4H'ers were going on a trail ride. Jay was working, of course, but the kids and I were set to go. Our friend, I'll call her Karie, was prepared to help me with all of this as I was just learning the ropes, so-to-speak.
Sunday morning we skipped church, maybe that was part of the problem, and headed to the meeting place for the ride. The plan was that Madolyn would ride Woody, her horse, and I would ride Melodee, Lane would ride on the back of a mule with another experienced rider. We didn't feel I was ready or capable to have a passenger just yet, after all, this was my very first trail ride. We had only owned Melodee about 48 hours, but Lane had ridden her several times and she was sweet with him. I really had no major concerns.
I'm going to guess there were about 20 or so of us riding, most on horses, some on mules. Off we went. I think I started out being behind Madolyn & Woody, about sixth from the front. It was a beautiful day. We were in a pretty area, lots of trees, a large pond, and a large woods...which we turned into for the ride. I'm still pretty calm at this point. We're going along nose-to-tail, pretty slow. This is going to be awesome.
Until Melodee started slamming me into trees, literally. I mean she would see a tree and get as close as possible to it, so that my leg was pinched in between it and her belly, or my shoulders would scrap along a branch or the trunk of a tree. I was getting pretty frustrated. Karie kept telling me that she was just testing me and I needed to stay in control. Oh, yes, control, I like that.
Then we came to a downed tree lying across what someone in this group had termed a trail. The five horses before me slowly stepped over the tree, Melodee and I jumped it. Off went my sunglasses. Oh my, that was crazy, I'm trying to stay calm when the voice inside of me is screaming "HELP ME!" Someone retrieved my glasses for me and we continued on nose-to-tail along the "trail."
We came upon a small stream/creek. Again, while the horses before me were tip-toeing over it gently, Melodee sorta teetered back and lunged across it. All I could think of was to hang on and never let go, and after shutting my eyes tight, that is what I did. My friend Karie had told me once before during a riding lesson that they won't hurt themselves intentionally, so staying on their back is your best bet.
Now, about this time I'm becoming a tiny bit concerned because it is obvious there is NO TRAIL. I could tell that we are blazing it as we went along. There were huge hills with small creeks or streams in between them, there were trees down everywhere, lots of brush. We were zig-zagging our way through the thick. I kept hoping just over the next hill, I would see an actual clear-cut path.
At this point someone in front of me got caught up in barbwire that was lying across the ground. We all had to stop, which Melodee had had a problem with the entire ride. She wanted to keep going, and the more I would try to pull her back, the crazier she would become. Where we stopped for the tangled barbwire was on a hill with a RAVINE below it. It wasn't a huge ravine, but big enough that most horses were going to have to jump over it. No big deal. And again, Melodee is sorta pacing, sidestepping, she will not hold still.
I am starting to panic, I'm verbalizing my fears, my heart is pounding, I'm pleading for help (all of which fuel a horse's fire). Everyone is telling me to just relax and it will be okay. Yeah, right...I feel it coming and off we go. Melodee hunkers down, leans back and we lunge forward, leaping across this ravine. Remember there are at least 15 people behind me watching, only one or two other people had crossed because of the barbwire snafu. I am sure I probably let out a scream in flight and hung on tight. I landed hard but was still on that dern horse. I can hear comments about how amazing that was, wow, can't believe you held on, that was some jump, etc. Had I been a more experienced rider, I probably would have appreciated those comments, but they weren't very comforting to me.
I start crying and tell them to get me out of there, I want off of this stupid horse, I am done, I'm never riding again, etc. I then look up to see Madolyn watching me. Busted. How on earth could I quit now? If I quit this ride, I will never ever live it down in my kids' eyes. Because if there comes a time when they struggle with something and I tell them to stay the course, they're going to throw this ride back in my face. "Remember that time you quit the trail ride because you got scared?" OKAY! I decided I had to buck up and finish the ride. I whispered SEVERAL prayers during the remainder of the ride for safety, comfort, wisdom, guidance and just about everything under the sun to get me through it. We jumped over one smaller stream after that, which was now old news to me. I grabbed the horn of the saddle tight, shut my eyes and off we went.
The only highlight was hearing Lane yell from across that big ravine, "Mom, that was awesome!" My little man thought me jumping that ravine on Melodee was awesome. (If he had been in front of me, he would've had a much different view...of Mama's panicked-fear-stricken-face.) Jay got quite an earful that evening. I ended up with a case of whiplash and had to visit the local chiropractor the very next day. It was painful, but he fixed me up and after a few days, I could barely tell my neck was sore. I had scratches on my arms and legs from Melodee ramming me into trees and branches.
Even now, some of those people with us that day will say, "Wow, I still can't believe you stayed on that horse." I suppose that is a compliment, right? I have been assured by many that that was not a typical "trail" ride; we were just riding through a woods. I haven't been on another trail ride since, nor have I been on Melodee. This weekend a group is going to Shawnee to trail ride and I am going along. Please pray for me, I will need it. I'm thinking I'll take along my tennis shoes in case I decide to start walking...
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
I had dumb parents...thankfully
Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged; parents are the pride of their children. Proverbs 17:6 (NLT)
Only a fool despises a parent’s discipline; whoever learns from correction is wise. Proverbs 15:5 (NLT)
I thought my parents were trying to ruin my life by not letting me do whatever I wanted until I realized it was that they cared about me and were trying to protect me from evil and destructive things.
I thought my parents were treating me like a slave in the summer when we would have to wake up early and go out and walk rows of beans cutting weeds until I figured out that we all benefited from the harvest of that field and it was just as much my job as my dad's to do it.
I thought my parents were so mean when they set a curfew and expected me to abide by it until I realized that maybe it was because they wanted me home safe by a certain time and not out running around at all hours of the night so they didn't have to stay up worrying.
I thought my parents were trying to punish me when I couldn't have all of the cool, name-brand stuff until I realized it is just expensive stuff that costs a lot of money and doesn't really make you who you are.
I thought my parents were completely unreasonable when I had to get a job and earn my own money until I realized that taught me a lot about responsibility.
I thought my parents were being a little too tough on me when I had to pay for my own college and living expenses until I realized that they really didn't have the money to do it for me and remembered that they did pay my cell phone bill, my health insurance and loaned me their car to use and paid for the insurance on it...and I took it pretty serious (most of the time) since it was my moola.
I thought my parents were being nosey when they wanted to know where I was at all times and who I was with until my daughter started asking to go places with her friends.
I thought my parents were just plain ignorant about everything involving a teenager until I realized that they were teenagers once and knew way more than I thought.
I thought my parents were totally irrational when they expected me to get up and go to church every stinking Sunday and other church-related functions until I realized that the lessons I learned at church, church camp, bible school, and other church activities are the things in life that really matter.
My brother, sister-in-law and I were talking the other night at youth group. My brother said that he had heard somewhere that if you want to see how well you raised your children, look at your grandchildren. I laughed and told them that was great, we can now blame the Quackers for how our kids act! But really when I think about it, that makes sense. Why? Because it took me 15-20 years and having two kids of my own to realize that my parents weren't so ignorant. They were trying their best to raise us with good morals, a real work ethic, responsibility, etc. They only wanted what was best for us. I can only assume that my parents were as baffled at parenting as I am right now. And honestly, we had a very good life. I really can't complain about my childhood. I was happy. I had two loving parents and a brother that wasn't too bad either. It was an easy walk in the park compared to many, many other stories you hear about.
Prayer for our parenting is what I cling to. So much of it is out of our hands. We can't just close our eyes, cross our fingers and hope that our kids turn out okay. Praying, leading by example, disciplining when necessary, giving grace when appropriate and loving is what we are left with. We have to do our best and trust that God will help us along our journey. I can only hope that in 20 years my kids will be thankful that Jay and I were dumb parents...
Only a fool despises a parent’s discipline; whoever learns from correction is wise. Proverbs 15:5 (NLT)
I thought my parents were trying to ruin my life by not letting me do whatever I wanted until I realized it was that they cared about me and were trying to protect me from evil and destructive things.
I thought my parents were treating me like a slave in the summer when we would have to wake up early and go out and walk rows of beans cutting weeds until I figured out that we all benefited from the harvest of that field and it was just as much my job as my dad's to do it.
I thought my parents were so mean when they set a curfew and expected me to abide by it until I realized that maybe it was because they wanted me home safe by a certain time and not out running around at all hours of the night so they didn't have to stay up worrying.
I thought my parents were trying to punish me when I couldn't have all of the cool, name-brand stuff until I realized it is just expensive stuff that costs a lot of money and doesn't really make you who you are.
I thought my parents were completely unreasonable when I had to get a job and earn my own money until I realized that taught me a lot about responsibility.
I thought my parents were being a little too tough on me when I had to pay for my own college and living expenses until I realized that they really didn't have the money to do it for me and remembered that they did pay my cell phone bill, my health insurance and loaned me their car to use and paid for the insurance on it...and I took it pretty serious (most of the time) since it was my moola.
I thought my parents were being nosey when they wanted to know where I was at all times and who I was with until my daughter started asking to go places with her friends.
I thought my parents were just plain ignorant about everything involving a teenager until I realized that they were teenagers once and knew way more than I thought.
I thought my parents were totally irrational when they expected me to get up and go to church every stinking Sunday and other church-related functions until I realized that the lessons I learned at church, church camp, bible school, and other church activities are the things in life that really matter.
My brother, sister-in-law and I were talking the other night at youth group. My brother said that he had heard somewhere that if you want to see how well you raised your children, look at your grandchildren. I laughed and told them that was great, we can now blame the Quackers for how our kids act! But really when I think about it, that makes sense. Why? Because it took me 15-20 years and having two kids of my own to realize that my parents weren't so ignorant. They were trying their best to raise us with good morals, a real work ethic, responsibility, etc. They only wanted what was best for us. I can only assume that my parents were as baffled at parenting as I am right now. And honestly, we had a very good life. I really can't complain about my childhood. I was happy. I had two loving parents and a brother that wasn't too bad either. It was an easy walk in the park compared to many, many other stories you hear about.
Prayer for our parenting is what I cling to. So much of it is out of our hands. We can't just close our eyes, cross our fingers and hope that our kids turn out okay. Praying, leading by example, disciplining when necessary, giving grace when appropriate and loving is what we are left with. We have to do our best and trust that God will help us along our journey. I can only hope that in 20 years my kids will be thankful that Jay and I were dumb parents...
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Amazing myself
Just a quickie because I didn't have time to write a post today. If you go to my church, you already know this. Jay worked daylights this weekend so he was out of the loop. We had four kids spend the night on Saturday, ranging from age 2-11; three girls, three boys. We were fed, showered, dressed and at church by 8:50 on Sunday morning. I had a couple people ask me if I was sick...We had arrived early for church (yes, ten minutes is way early for us). I was amazed. There is a family in our church with six children. They weren't there yesterday, and I know it's nothing special to her, but I felt like I needed a medal or something.
Did I mention there were six children and myself? And that we all ate, showered and dressed, thankfully, before arriving at church early? Sometimes I amaze myself...it's not usually for something good though ;)
Did I mention there were six children and myself? And that we all ate, showered and dressed, thankfully, before arriving at church early? Sometimes I amaze myself...it's not usually for something good though ;)
Monday, October 17, 2011
I love my Nook!
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Phillipians 4:8 (NIV)
I mentioned in a post the other day that I have a Barnes & Noble Nook and I am totally in love with it. I wasn't too hot on the idea when Jay first talked about it the year before last, but when this past Christmas rolled around, I was all about it. In fact, this is how the procurement of the Nook went down. I told Jay that, yes, I would really like a Nook for Christmas. And the truth is that I really, really wanted one. As is the case with my beloved BFF, he doesn't always get around to stuff. So being super selfish about this present, I decided to go ahead and order myself one just to be sure I got it. (Boy, does that sound terrible or what?!)
So I mention to Jay that I went ahead and ordered the Nook so he wouldn't have to worry about it and I could tell right away that I should not have. Apparently Jay was on it and had already ordered me one (the nice one) and I had ruined his big surprise, typical. I had ordered the cheaper version, that's how we roll...One of us looks at price, the other does not :) So if I couldn't stop the order, I would be getting two Nooks!! Fortunately, I was able to cancel the order before shipment was made and got a refund. Yeah-rah!
So a-n-y-w-a-y, I think I have probably read over 40 books since Christmas, which may or may not seem like a lot to you. On our vacation, I read one book every day. Literally, a book a day. My family just loves it too. I tell them that I don't complain about them swimming and playing in the ocean, so don't complain about me sitting on the beach reading. It's wonderful. I can take it everywhere I go. I have a charger for my car in case the battery runs down. It will fit in my purse so it's not big and bulky. Since I was directed to http://www.inspiredreads.com/, I have loads and loads of free Christian fiction downloaded and ready to read at the tap of my finger.
I have to admit that from day one I have been spending way more money on books than I used to...especially considering I never ever bought books, I just went to the Library. And I love real books and the Library still, the problem is I have trouble with time requirements...as in, I cannot for the life of me get something returned on time...and actually read it. Seems like I would get a book I really wanted to read and then would forget to take it places or was afraid to take it because I might lose it and it would be time to return it and I hadn't even finished it. I grew up with my mother being a Librarian, and I worked in our local Library several years. I really do enjoy time in a peaceful quiet Library, but the Nook has allowed me to read when I had basically given it up but for vacations.
I now prefer to read in the evenings instead of watching television, which is a wonderful idea, isn't it? If I am having trouble sleeping, I can turn on my Nook and read right there in bed...instead of having to turn on a light or go out to the living room. I have the Nook Color which has a lot of extra features that aren't necessary, but I must say I don't mind them at all. I have a few games downloaded on it, I can get internet access in Wi-Fi areas, I can even store pictures and music, although I have never learned how. Barnes & Noble offer "LendMe" books which are books that you can share with someone else who has a Nook as long as you know their Nook signon name. They have 14 days to read it and then it is "returned" back to you.
There is a free Nook app that I have on my computer in my office, on both Jay and Mad's iPod's and my mini laptop. Everywhere we go, we have the option to read. Jay and Madolyn can pick their own books, but use my account. It's a much smaller screen to read from, but they have both been able to read books on their iPods. Yes, Jay has even read a few books (on horses of course)! So even if you don't own a Nook, you could download the app and use it. All you need to do, I think, is set up a Barnes & Noble account so that you could purchase the books. There are other brands of ereaders that I can't tell you a whole lot about, but I know people that have the Kindle and one friend has another brand and they seem to enjoy their readers. I think they all work about the same.
So I was reading all kinds of really good stuff...I love fiction. I guess I don't get enough of courtroom drama (although what I read about and what really happens aren't the same here, on the local level at least) and murder mystery. That is definitely my favorite type of fiction. Crime, Murder, Mystery, Gangs, etc. Oh yeah, keep it coming...except that I kept seeing the above-mentioned bible verse over and over and over everywhere I turned. I finally realized that maybe that verse was something I was supposed to apply. I was filling my head with a lot of junk. I'm supposed to fill it with things that are lovely and pure, etc. About that time is when my coworker friend told me about http://www.inspiredreads.com/ and I have been downloading Christian fiction ever since.
I still prefer murder or mysteries, and it may surprise you, but there's Christian fiction out there in these subject matters, and they're not too bad actually. They are uplifting and easy to read. Sometimes they are downright hilarious, sometimes they are very serious, but they are good, clean books. Most of them have scripture references throughout the story and several have a very good message or point at the end. (And I must admit sometimes they're pretty cheesy too.)
I am not about to tell you that I will never read a non-Christian book again because I know that is just not practical and I would be fooling myself, but as long as inspiredreads can keep rolling freebies or cheap books to my inbox, I'll keep trying to fill myself with the good stuff and not so much junk. In case you didn't notice, I love my Nook - Thanks to my BFF Jay!!
I mentioned in a post the other day that I have a Barnes & Noble Nook and I am totally in love with it. I wasn't too hot on the idea when Jay first talked about it the year before last, but when this past Christmas rolled around, I was all about it. In fact, this is how the procurement of the Nook went down. I told Jay that, yes, I would really like a Nook for Christmas. And the truth is that I really, really wanted one. As is the case with my beloved BFF, he doesn't always get around to stuff. So being super selfish about this present, I decided to go ahead and order myself one just to be sure I got it. (Boy, does that sound terrible or what?!)
So I mention to Jay that I went ahead and ordered the Nook so he wouldn't have to worry about it and I could tell right away that I should not have. Apparently Jay was on it and had already ordered me one (the nice one) and I had ruined his big surprise, typical. I had ordered the cheaper version, that's how we roll...One of us looks at price, the other does not :) So if I couldn't stop the order, I would be getting two Nooks!! Fortunately, I was able to cancel the order before shipment was made and got a refund. Yeah-rah!
So a-n-y-w-a-y, I think I have probably read over 40 books since Christmas, which may or may not seem like a lot to you. On our vacation, I read one book every day. Literally, a book a day. My family just loves it too. I tell them that I don't complain about them swimming and playing in the ocean, so don't complain about me sitting on the beach reading. It's wonderful. I can take it everywhere I go. I have a charger for my car in case the battery runs down. It will fit in my purse so it's not big and bulky. Since I was directed to http://www.inspiredreads.com/, I have loads and loads of free Christian fiction downloaded and ready to read at the tap of my finger.
I have to admit that from day one I have been spending way more money on books than I used to...especially considering I never ever bought books, I just went to the Library. And I love real books and the Library still, the problem is I have trouble with time requirements...as in, I cannot for the life of me get something returned on time...and actually read it. Seems like I would get a book I really wanted to read and then would forget to take it places or was afraid to take it because I might lose it and it would be time to return it and I hadn't even finished it. I grew up with my mother being a Librarian, and I worked in our local Library several years. I really do enjoy time in a peaceful quiet Library, but the Nook has allowed me to read when I had basically given it up but for vacations.
I now prefer to read in the evenings instead of watching television, which is a wonderful idea, isn't it? If I am having trouble sleeping, I can turn on my Nook and read right there in bed...instead of having to turn on a light or go out to the living room. I have the Nook Color which has a lot of extra features that aren't necessary, but I must say I don't mind them at all. I have a few games downloaded on it, I can get internet access in Wi-Fi areas, I can even store pictures and music, although I have never learned how. Barnes & Noble offer "LendMe" books which are books that you can share with someone else who has a Nook as long as you know their Nook signon name. They have 14 days to read it and then it is "returned" back to you.
There is a free Nook app that I have on my computer in my office, on both Jay and Mad's iPod's and my mini laptop. Everywhere we go, we have the option to read. Jay and Madolyn can pick their own books, but use my account. It's a much smaller screen to read from, but they have both been able to read books on their iPods. Yes, Jay has even read a few books (on horses of course)! So even if you don't own a Nook, you could download the app and use it. All you need to do, I think, is set up a Barnes & Noble account so that you could purchase the books. There are other brands of ereaders that I can't tell you a whole lot about, but I know people that have the Kindle and one friend has another brand and they seem to enjoy their readers. I think they all work about the same.
So I was reading all kinds of really good stuff...I love fiction. I guess I don't get enough of courtroom drama (although what I read about and what really happens aren't the same here, on the local level at least) and murder mystery. That is definitely my favorite type of fiction. Crime, Murder, Mystery, Gangs, etc. Oh yeah, keep it coming...except that I kept seeing the above-mentioned bible verse over and over and over everywhere I turned. I finally realized that maybe that verse was something I was supposed to apply. I was filling my head with a lot of junk. I'm supposed to fill it with things that are lovely and pure, etc. About that time is when my coworker friend told me about http://www.inspiredreads.com/ and I have been downloading Christian fiction ever since.
I still prefer murder or mysteries, and it may surprise you, but there's Christian fiction out there in these subject matters, and they're not too bad actually. They are uplifting and easy to read. Sometimes they are downright hilarious, sometimes they are very serious, but they are good, clean books. Most of them have scripture references throughout the story and several have a very good message or point at the end. (And I must admit sometimes they're pretty cheesy too.)
I am not about to tell you that I will never read a non-Christian book again because I know that is just not practical and I would be fooling myself, but as long as inspiredreads can keep rolling freebies or cheap books to my inbox, I'll keep trying to fill myself with the good stuff and not so much junk. In case you didn't notice, I love my Nook - Thanks to my BFF Jay!!
Sunday, October 16, 2011
I have a dream...
My first "real" job was at our local grocery store, The Town & Country IGA. My great uncle operated it and hired me, my cousin and friend I call "Danielle" and another cousin, same age, that we'll call "Brett." My great uncle was actually Danielle and Brett's grandpa and I think that maybe Danielle's dad was working there too at the time. I would guess we were about 14 years old when we first started.
I have always loved punching buttons so the cash register was awesome. I am a people person and thoroughly enjoyed seeing everyone come and go, knowing what kind of cigarettes so and so wanted before they even got to the counter, helping the elderly ones to their cars, etc. I would usually know what was going on in town. It was a good way to learn families too. I'd figure out who went with this family or that one, but never knew that was their dad, etc. I guess that may qualify me as a tad nosey? I loved everything about working at that little grocery store.
And we had fun...so much fun. The three cousins didn't always work together, you now, that may be a little dangerous, but occasionally we would be in there together. The older women we worked with were a hoot too. I honestly don't think I ever really dreaded going to work there. The hours were great, we were off at 8 in the summer and 7 in the winter. Poor Brett unloaded trucks that came in the wee hours of the morning, say around 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. He was often late to school on truck days because he would go back home and crash.
That gets me to my point...ha...you know I have one, right? I have a dream to own and operate a grocery store. I would prefer it be a Save-A-Lot grocery store because we do not have one in our county. The closest stores are 30 minutes away and I think our little town has a need for it. We have several living in the community who qualify as "poverty" and with the price of gasoline and such, it would be great to have something real close by.
I really enjoyed seeing people on a daily basis, helping folks find things or carry their groceries to their cars, punching those buttons on the register. Now, I see they use a hand-held scanner. What is up with that? Buttons, people, buttons is where it's at. You're missing the fun of it if you don't get to push them! Our little store has a program where the elderly can call in orders and they will deliver them to their homes. I would love to continue that tradition. We do not have mass transit around here so if you don't have a car or license and live too far, you have few options.
The customers. We had a customer who was deaf. I would see him walk in and knew what cigarettes to grab before he had to point. There was an elderly man who always came in and bought lots of Shasta (that's a brand of pop for you young ones). I figured out later that he probably wasn't a big Shasta drinker, it was what he mixed with the Shasta that kept him coming back for more. I also learned a lesson on judging a book by its cover. There was an elderly couple that came in to do their weekly shopping. The fella wore the same clothes and they weren't in great condition and he also had a slight odor about him. His wife was friendly but pretty simple. I figured they were a poor couple struggling to get by. I was told after he passed away, that they were worth tons of moola. Really? I wouldn't have guessed it...Shame on me.
It was such a good job for a teenager too. You had awesome hours and you were right here. You didn't have to drive over to a neighboring town to get to work or drive home late at night and in bad weather. You could still hit the ball game or go out with your friends after closing. Since I was only 14 when I started working at the store, my parents could drop me off and pick me up and it wasn't a terrible inconvenience. It was closed most major holidays, and even if it was open, they were flexible and the hours were shortened.
Our cousin still runs the Town and Country Foods grocery store, so I'm probably going to have to wait for a while until he sells or retires...and I suppose I probably need a lot of savings for start-up and franchise costs too. I may need to take some courses on running a grocery store, how to order, accounting, etc. After all, I was young and just punched buttons, bagged groceries and stocked shelves. Actually, now that I think about it, I may not be ready for this right now, but someday maybe I will have myself a grocery store!
I have always loved punching buttons so the cash register was awesome. I am a people person and thoroughly enjoyed seeing everyone come and go, knowing what kind of cigarettes so and so wanted before they even got to the counter, helping the elderly ones to their cars, etc. I would usually know what was going on in town. It was a good way to learn families too. I'd figure out who went with this family or that one, but never knew that was their dad, etc. I guess that may qualify me as a tad nosey? I loved everything about working at that little grocery store.
And we had fun...so much fun. The three cousins didn't always work together, you now, that may be a little dangerous, but occasionally we would be in there together. The older women we worked with were a hoot too. I honestly don't think I ever really dreaded going to work there. The hours were great, we were off at 8 in the summer and 7 in the winter. Poor Brett unloaded trucks that came in the wee hours of the morning, say around 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. He was often late to school on truck days because he would go back home and crash.
That gets me to my point...ha...you know I have one, right? I have a dream to own and operate a grocery store. I would prefer it be a Save-A-Lot grocery store because we do not have one in our county. The closest stores are 30 minutes away and I think our little town has a need for it. We have several living in the community who qualify as "poverty" and with the price of gasoline and such, it would be great to have something real close by.
I really enjoyed seeing people on a daily basis, helping folks find things or carry their groceries to their cars, punching those buttons on the register. Now, I see they use a hand-held scanner. What is up with that? Buttons, people, buttons is where it's at. You're missing the fun of it if you don't get to push them! Our little store has a program where the elderly can call in orders and they will deliver them to their homes. I would love to continue that tradition. We do not have mass transit around here so if you don't have a car or license and live too far, you have few options.
The customers. We had a customer who was deaf. I would see him walk in and knew what cigarettes to grab before he had to point. There was an elderly man who always came in and bought lots of Shasta (that's a brand of pop for you young ones). I figured out later that he probably wasn't a big Shasta drinker, it was what he mixed with the Shasta that kept him coming back for more. I also learned a lesson on judging a book by its cover. There was an elderly couple that came in to do their weekly shopping. The fella wore the same clothes and they weren't in great condition and he also had a slight odor about him. His wife was friendly but pretty simple. I figured they were a poor couple struggling to get by. I was told after he passed away, that they were worth tons of moola. Really? I wouldn't have guessed it...Shame on me.
It was such a good job for a teenager too. You had awesome hours and you were right here. You didn't have to drive over to a neighboring town to get to work or drive home late at night and in bad weather. You could still hit the ball game or go out with your friends after closing. Since I was only 14 when I started working at the store, my parents could drop me off and pick me up and it wasn't a terrible inconvenience. It was closed most major holidays, and even if it was open, they were flexible and the hours were shortened.
Our cousin still runs the Town and Country Foods grocery store, so I'm probably going to have to wait for a while until he sells or retires...and I suppose I probably need a lot of savings for start-up and franchise costs too. I may need to take some courses on running a grocery store, how to order, accounting, etc. After all, I was young and just punched buttons, bagged groceries and stocked shelves. Actually, now that I think about it, I may not be ready for this right now, but someday maybe I will have myself a grocery store!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
You Love Me Anyway
One of my favorite songs right now is "You Love Me Anyway" by a Christian Band called The Sidewalk Prophets. Read some of the words to this song. They are beautiful.
"I am the thorn in your crown
But You love me anyway
I am the sweat from Your brow
But You love me anyway
I am the nail in Your wrist
But You love me anyway
I am Judas' kiss
But You love me anyway
See now I am the man who yelled out from the crowd
For Your blood to be spilled on this earth shaking ground
Yes then I turned away with a smile on my face
With this sin in my heart, tried to bury Your grace
And then alone in the night I still call out for You
So ashamed of my life, my life, my life
But You love me anyway
Oh God, how You love me
Yes, You love me anyway
It's like nothing in life
That I've ever known
Yes, You love me anyway
Oh Lord, how You love me."
Isn't that just amazing? Almost every day these words run over and over in my mind now that I know this song: "I am the nail in your wrist, but you love me anyway. I am Judas' kiss, but you love me anyway." I don't know why it is, but I can read scripture and hear bible studies and stories over and over, but when someone puts words to music, they stick with me and touch me. Several times throughout the day, these words remind me that no matter what I could ever possibly do, Jesus will love me anyway.
Oh, how I wish I could make everyone understand and embrace that. How do you tell these struggling teens whose parents tell them how bad they are, who have other kids tell them how worthless or pathetic they are, who are told repeatedly by a teacher that they are dumb, that there is someone who will love them no matter what, without conditions, without strings, without if's, and's or but's? I could play them this song 100 times and I know that unless they're at a certain point in their lives, they will not get how huge it is. What stories from the bible can I teach them to help them trust and believe this? How can we get them to understand that it may not seem important today, but it should be the most important thing ever in their lives, over boys, over girls, sports, friends, grades, clothes, appearance, etc.?
And if you read those lyrics and wonder, what does all of this mean? It is about the Crucifixion and what all 'we' did to Jesus, who loves us anyway. You can read Matthew 26 and 27 to get a decent idea of what is going on. Make sure you have a translation you understand. And you may even have to read it twice, as I often have to do, to fully grasp the meaning. If you don't have access to bible, but you're sitting at a computer, go to www.biblegateway.com and type in the scripture above. Try the New Living Translation or New International Version, they are the ones I understand and like the best. (I use that website a lot, it is a very useful tool!)
I so wish I had the answers. But God gives us the choice. We have free will. It is part of the whole package. We must make the choice. It is there for the taking, free, anytime, anywhere, anyhow. But the choice has to be made. Going to church, going to youth group, attending bible studies, taking mission trips, going to church camps and convocations does not mean that Jesus is in your heart. Romans 10:9 says, "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." Say the words and mean it. No matter what you have done, he'll love you anyway...
"I am the thorn in your crown
But You love me anyway
I am the sweat from Your brow
But You love me anyway
I am the nail in Your wrist
But You love me anyway
I am Judas' kiss
But You love me anyway
See now I am the man who yelled out from the crowd
For Your blood to be spilled on this earth shaking ground
Yes then I turned away with a smile on my face
With this sin in my heart, tried to bury Your grace
And then alone in the night I still call out for You
So ashamed of my life, my life, my life
But You love me anyway
Oh God, how You love me
Yes, You love me anyway
It's like nothing in life
That I've ever known
Yes, You love me anyway
Oh Lord, how You love me."
Isn't that just amazing? Almost every day these words run over and over in my mind now that I know this song: "I am the nail in your wrist, but you love me anyway. I am Judas' kiss, but you love me anyway." I don't know why it is, but I can read scripture and hear bible studies and stories over and over, but when someone puts words to music, they stick with me and touch me. Several times throughout the day, these words remind me that no matter what I could ever possibly do, Jesus will love me anyway.
Oh, how I wish I could make everyone understand and embrace that. How do you tell these struggling teens whose parents tell them how bad they are, who have other kids tell them how worthless or pathetic they are, who are told repeatedly by a teacher that they are dumb, that there is someone who will love them no matter what, without conditions, without strings, without if's, and's or but's? I could play them this song 100 times and I know that unless they're at a certain point in their lives, they will not get how huge it is. What stories from the bible can I teach them to help them trust and believe this? How can we get them to understand that it may not seem important today, but it should be the most important thing ever in their lives, over boys, over girls, sports, friends, grades, clothes, appearance, etc.?
And if you read those lyrics and wonder, what does all of this mean? It is about the Crucifixion and what all 'we' did to Jesus, who loves us anyway. You can read Matthew 26 and 27 to get a decent idea of what is going on. Make sure you have a translation you understand. And you may even have to read it twice, as I often have to do, to fully grasp the meaning. If you don't have access to bible, but you're sitting at a computer, go to www.biblegateway.com and type in the scripture above. Try the New Living Translation or New International Version, they are the ones I understand and like the best. (I use that website a lot, it is a very useful tool!)
I so wish I had the answers. But God gives us the choice. We have free will. It is part of the whole package. We must make the choice. It is there for the taking, free, anytime, anywhere, anyhow. But the choice has to be made. Going to church, going to youth group, attending bible studies, taking mission trips, going to church camps and convocations does not mean that Jesus is in your heart. Romans 10:9 says, "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." Say the words and mean it. No matter what you have done, he'll love you anyway...
Friday, October 14, 2011
Help, I need an ambulance...no, wait, it was an accident.
Here's another chapter in the security alarm saga...Last fall Jay was working a turnaround at work, which means he works a whole bunch of days/nights in a row. It was a short one, so I think it was about 28 nights...but a very long 28 nights for Jay (and even for the rest of us). Jay was kinda just going through the motions, in a haze or fog. Not super chipper, if you know what I mean, and I can't say that I blamed him.
I had to take the kids to a 4H meeting in Marshall later that evening. Earlier when I had got home from work, there was a light on the security panel flashing, but I wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't signaling an alarm to the dispatch or anything, it was just supposed to be some kind of signal to us to reset something maybe. I tried to figure out how to correct it and couldn't so I left it alone and thought I would tell Jay about it later.
Either Jay was finishing up his turnaround or he had a day off, I can't remember exactly how it was, but he was going to be around that evening, although he was in this fog, haze...zombie-like. Sort of better for us not to be around, if you get my drift. So the kids and I headed out to our meeting before he got home.
I'm sitting in this very-crowded room of 4H'ers and I hear my phone ringing in my purse. I had it on silent/vibrate, so it wasn't too disturbing. I look at the screen, don't recognize the number, reject call. A minute later it rings again. I look at the screen, see that it's my friend "Beth" calling and reject it as well. I text her that I'm in a meeting, I'll call her back in a bit. Not even two minutes later, I hear the vibration. It is my uncle. Okay, something is going on...I excuse myself and call him back.
My uncle tells me that he has just heard on the scanner that an ambulance has been dispatched to our house. What is going on? I tell him I have no idea, we are not even at home. Jay was at home but went to the fairgrounds, so I was puzzled. I hang up and try calling Jay. I try over and over and cannot get him. Weird. I wasn't necessarily worried because I had talked to Jay and knew he had made it home and was on his way to town. I then decide that I need to call the dispatch center. So I found the missed call with the unrecognizable number and dial. Yes, they have received an emergency signal from our house for paramedics. What? Does our security system do that? Yes, it sure does. You push a series of buttons and you can request an ambulance. Wow, okay. I told the dispatch lady that there wasn't anyone home and I was sure it was an accident. Can you call off the ambulance? She told me she would try, but it had already gone through.
Apparently, Jay, in his sleep-deprived, over-worked, semi-induced coma, had tried to clear the system of the blinking light I mentioned earlier and in doing so, called himself an ambulance, got in the truck and went to town. I was assuming this is what happened as I still could not get a hold of him. I called my uncle back and asked him to track down the ambulance and tell them there was no emergency. By this time my mother had called me and asked what was going on because there was an ambulance at her house refusing to leave (our address on a gps will take you to my parents because that is where our mail box is, go figure). My uncle arrives and they go back to my house. The ambulance people, doing only what they are called to do, searched the house, outbuildings and barn, and after repeated assurances from my uncle, finally left.
I decide to try calling our horse trainer friend and see if perhaps my husband is standing nearby or did he even show up at the horse barn in town? Sure enough, he was right there...oops, he 'forgot' his phone in his truck. I told him about the chaos he instigated by punching buttons willy-nilly on the panel. He laughed and said, you know, I met the ambulance on my way into town and wondered where they were going...And would you believe that on his way home a little bit later, he met the ambulance returning to town?
I had to take the kids to a 4H meeting in Marshall later that evening. Earlier when I had got home from work, there was a light on the security panel flashing, but I wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't signaling an alarm to the dispatch or anything, it was just supposed to be some kind of signal to us to reset something maybe. I tried to figure out how to correct it and couldn't so I left it alone and thought I would tell Jay about it later.
Either Jay was finishing up his turnaround or he had a day off, I can't remember exactly how it was, but he was going to be around that evening, although he was in this fog, haze...zombie-like. Sort of better for us not to be around, if you get my drift. So the kids and I headed out to our meeting before he got home.
I'm sitting in this very-crowded room of 4H'ers and I hear my phone ringing in my purse. I had it on silent/vibrate, so it wasn't too disturbing. I look at the screen, don't recognize the number, reject call. A minute later it rings again. I look at the screen, see that it's my friend "Beth" calling and reject it as well. I text her that I'm in a meeting, I'll call her back in a bit. Not even two minutes later, I hear the vibration. It is my uncle. Okay, something is going on...I excuse myself and call him back.
My uncle tells me that he has just heard on the scanner that an ambulance has been dispatched to our house. What is going on? I tell him I have no idea, we are not even at home. Jay was at home but went to the fairgrounds, so I was puzzled. I hang up and try calling Jay. I try over and over and cannot get him. Weird. I wasn't necessarily worried because I had talked to Jay and knew he had made it home and was on his way to town. I then decide that I need to call the dispatch center. So I found the missed call with the unrecognizable number and dial. Yes, they have received an emergency signal from our house for paramedics. What? Does our security system do that? Yes, it sure does. You push a series of buttons and you can request an ambulance. Wow, okay. I told the dispatch lady that there wasn't anyone home and I was sure it was an accident. Can you call off the ambulance? She told me she would try, but it had already gone through.
Apparently, Jay, in his sleep-deprived, over-worked, semi-induced coma, had tried to clear the system of the blinking light I mentioned earlier and in doing so, called himself an ambulance, got in the truck and went to town. I was assuming this is what happened as I still could not get a hold of him. I called my uncle back and asked him to track down the ambulance and tell them there was no emergency. By this time my mother had called me and asked what was going on because there was an ambulance at her house refusing to leave (our address on a gps will take you to my parents because that is where our mail box is, go figure). My uncle arrives and they go back to my house. The ambulance people, doing only what they are called to do, searched the house, outbuildings and barn, and after repeated assurances from my uncle, finally left.
I decide to try calling our horse trainer friend and see if perhaps my husband is standing nearby or did he even show up at the horse barn in town? Sure enough, he was right there...oops, he 'forgot' his phone in his truck. I told him about the chaos he instigated by punching buttons willy-nilly on the panel. He laughed and said, you know, I met the ambulance on my way into town and wondered where they were going...And would you believe that on his way home a little bit later, he met the ambulance returning to town?
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Farm boy
Lane was in full-farm mode last week. We came home one evening and he saw that his uncle and grandpa were in the field by our house and he was spastic. He had to call grandpa and see if he could ride with him. So he did. The Quackdaddy told him he was on his way back and he would pick him up but it would be a half hour or so. Lane waited and waited, as little kids do, and grew impatient. He called grandpa again. This time the Quackdaddy told him he would be by to pick him up in about 20 minutes. Lane insisted we set the timer.
The timer...uh-oh. This will not be good. There are a few people that tinker and piddle just a little more than me and my dad is one of them. Him giving Lane an actual number was a bad idea...he was now on the clock. I think there was about three minutes left on the timer when I reminded Lane that grandpa was a lot like me, we may not always be right on time, but we are on our way. Sure enough, the timer beeped and he wasn't in our driveway, but amazingly, it was just a couple minutes later when he pulled up to get Lane.
Lane rode with his grandpa in the truck or tractor or with his uncle in the combine all evening. He even skipped youth group, which is not like him at all. Lane told me he drove the combine for just a minute while his uncle did something. I never know if I should believe anything that boy tells me (because he's just like his dad and makes all kinds of stuff up to get you), but knowing my brother, he probably did. Lane reminds me a lot of my brother...he is okay doing his own thing and really likes to work and work hard.
I always ask Lane if he falls asleep because I remember that I would beg and beg to go ride the old Deutz ( I may not have spelled that right) tractor with my grandpa and so grandma would drive me over to the field. I would get in with grandpa and grandma would pull away in the truck...or so I thought. Grandpa and I would make a few rounds in the field and he would get the CB out and call for a pick-up. I would be sound asleep, slumped over on the little spot he had made for me with stacked flannel shirts or a jacket and gloves. Later, I learned that grandma would just go around the corner out of my eyesight and wait. She knew I would be asleep very soon. Lane tells me he never falls asleep...hhhmm...
The next morning Lane was talking about farming again and we told him he should be a farmer if that's what he wants to be, but he needs to learn a trade too, such as electricity, plumbing, etc. He was okay with that. I'm okay with that too. His uncle will eventually retire, I think, and maybe by then, he would trust Lane to take over (haha)...but in the meantime he could help on the family farm on the side and do another trade by day. Everybody needs a plumber or electrician around here. And hey, it's an improvement, he did want to work at the carnival...
The timer...uh-oh. This will not be good. There are a few people that tinker and piddle just a little more than me and my dad is one of them. Him giving Lane an actual number was a bad idea...he was now on the clock. I think there was about three minutes left on the timer when I reminded Lane that grandpa was a lot like me, we may not always be right on time, but we are on our way. Sure enough, the timer beeped and he wasn't in our driveway, but amazingly, it was just a couple minutes later when he pulled up to get Lane.
Lane rode with his grandpa in the truck or tractor or with his uncle in the combine all evening. He even skipped youth group, which is not like him at all. Lane told me he drove the combine for just a minute while his uncle did something. I never know if I should believe anything that boy tells me (because he's just like his dad and makes all kinds of stuff up to get you), but knowing my brother, he probably did. Lane reminds me a lot of my brother...he is okay doing his own thing and really likes to work and work hard.
I always ask Lane if he falls asleep because I remember that I would beg and beg to go ride the old Deutz ( I may not have spelled that right) tractor with my grandpa and so grandma would drive me over to the field. I would get in with grandpa and grandma would pull away in the truck...or so I thought. Grandpa and I would make a few rounds in the field and he would get the CB out and call for a pick-up. I would be sound asleep, slumped over on the little spot he had made for me with stacked flannel shirts or a jacket and gloves. Later, I learned that grandma would just go around the corner out of my eyesight and wait. She knew I would be asleep very soon. Lane tells me he never falls asleep...hhhmm...
The next morning Lane was talking about farming again and we told him he should be a farmer if that's what he wants to be, but he needs to learn a trade too, such as electricity, plumbing, etc. He was okay with that. I'm okay with that too. His uncle will eventually retire, I think, and maybe by then, he would trust Lane to take over (haha)...but in the meantime he could help on the family farm on the side and do another trade by day. Everybody needs a plumber or electrician around here. And hey, it's an improvement, he did want to work at the carnival...
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Slavery and Bullying, not so different?
Dear friends, I am not writing a new commandment for you; rather it is an old one you have had from the very beginning. This old commandment—to love one another—is the same message you heard before. 1 John 2:7 (NLT)
The Help...I didn't read the book. Had never heard of the book or knew that a movie by the same name was coming out, but I caught the buzz and decided it was a must-see. I missed my girls night out going to see the movie so I forced my faithful companion to go with me. We had a nice Monday night date, dinner at the Backporch and a movie. I gave Jay the option, an out so-to-speak, I would see Moneyball if he would rather. No, he wanted to see the movie that I wanted to see. Okay, we went.
It was very good. I wish I had read the book because I like to read a book first, but it was still worth my time and money. Obviously I wasn't around for that time period so I have little knowledge about how it actually was, except what I have read or seen in movies such as this one, but it really had me stirring inside. Did people really treat people like that? I almost said "Did we really treat people like that" and then corrected it. I never did treat people that like that, nor do I plan to. But I realize that is how it was and many good people treated others like that way back then because it was accepted.
Constantly we hear about bullying. On and on and on, I get so tired of it. Is it really that bad? Then I read a book or see a news report and learn about a kid who was "bullied" and committed suicide or killed someone else. How very sad. Bullying isn't something new. I think we like to treat it as some new thing, but really it's just more publicized and easier to do because of all the technology and such. Bullying has been around for centuries. It may take on new avenues or vessels, but it is very similar.
I have a Barnes & Noble Nook and am totally in love with it. Every now and then B&N has free books or 99 cent books that they showcase. I downloaded a free or cheap book that was really dark and awful, but I couldn't stop reading it. It was about a little boy whose mom had left and he was bullied a lot. He decided to quit talking after his mom took off, which caused even more bullying. It was sooo pitiful. And sad and dark, but I could not quit reading. It ended okay, I suppose, but it really gave me some insight into the victim of a bully.
There are some people who can handle teasing and joking and even rude and terrible comments. Even though they may get their feelings hurt a little, it doesn't become a problem. There are others, however, who begin to believe these hurtful, mean comments and begin to feel so low about themselves. They start thinking they are worthless and unlovable. They believe they have no purpose in life, that they are gross and disgusting. I could go on and on. Reading this book and what this little boy was thinking was just heartbreaking. I thought back, did I ever say mean things like this to someone? I hate to admit that I probably did at one time or another. I think I was pretty nice to most people, but I'm sure someone out there has that one memory of something hurtful I said to them. Ugh, I hate to think about it.
I'm a teaser. I love sarcasm. I like to make fun and joke at other people...but I never, ever do it to be mean or hurtful. And I don't mind being on the receiving end either, but that's because I don't let it get to me too much. I can't imagine telling another HUMAN BEING that they could not use my toilet because their germs are different than mine, or that they had to take a separate car or bus than I do because I am not sharing air with them. I cannot believe that that kind of behavior went on and yet I know that it did. It is just mind-boggling. It makes me wonder if people these days forget about slavery and how we used to treat others because it sure isn't a whole lot different than bullying.
God says we should treat others as we would want to be treated. The Golden Rule. We are to love one another. As our preacher pointed out in our sermon yesterday, we are called to build others up. Our job is to love and encourage one another. It is hard at times, and may even feel impossible because we don't always like every person we come into contact with. God doesn't command us to like them, he commands us to love them and be kind to them. It can be a fine line, but it is possible.
Even though my kids would argue with this, I would not participate in slavery. I could, however, be considered a bully, I suppose, with my teasing and joking. I pray that God will grant me the ability to know when enough is enough as to not intentionally hurt someone else with my silliness. Thankfully, slavery is a thing of the past. Unfortunately, we now have bullying to replace it. The commandment God gives us is nothing new, it is the same as it has always been: We are to love one another, plain and simple. (Oh, and go see The Help if you can, it's really good!!)
The Help...I didn't read the book. Had never heard of the book or knew that a movie by the same name was coming out, but I caught the buzz and decided it was a must-see. I missed my girls night out going to see the movie so I forced my faithful companion to go with me. We had a nice Monday night date, dinner at the Backporch and a movie. I gave Jay the option, an out so-to-speak, I would see Moneyball if he would rather. No, he wanted to see the movie that I wanted to see. Okay, we went.
It was very good. I wish I had read the book because I like to read a book first, but it was still worth my time and money. Obviously I wasn't around for that time period so I have little knowledge about how it actually was, except what I have read or seen in movies such as this one, but it really had me stirring inside. Did people really treat people like that? I almost said "Did we really treat people like that" and then corrected it. I never did treat people that like that, nor do I plan to. But I realize that is how it was and many good people treated others like that way back then because it was accepted.
Constantly we hear about bullying. On and on and on, I get so tired of it. Is it really that bad? Then I read a book or see a news report and learn about a kid who was "bullied" and committed suicide or killed someone else. How very sad. Bullying isn't something new. I think we like to treat it as some new thing, but really it's just more publicized and easier to do because of all the technology and such. Bullying has been around for centuries. It may take on new avenues or vessels, but it is very similar.
I have a Barnes & Noble Nook and am totally in love with it. Every now and then B&N has free books or 99 cent books that they showcase. I downloaded a free or cheap book that was really dark and awful, but I couldn't stop reading it. It was about a little boy whose mom had left and he was bullied a lot. He decided to quit talking after his mom took off, which caused even more bullying. It was sooo pitiful. And sad and dark, but I could not quit reading. It ended okay, I suppose, but it really gave me some insight into the victim of a bully.
There are some people who can handle teasing and joking and even rude and terrible comments. Even though they may get their feelings hurt a little, it doesn't become a problem. There are others, however, who begin to believe these hurtful, mean comments and begin to feel so low about themselves. They start thinking they are worthless and unlovable. They believe they have no purpose in life, that they are gross and disgusting. I could go on and on. Reading this book and what this little boy was thinking was just heartbreaking. I thought back, did I ever say mean things like this to someone? I hate to admit that I probably did at one time or another. I think I was pretty nice to most people, but I'm sure someone out there has that one memory of something hurtful I said to them. Ugh, I hate to think about it.
I'm a teaser. I love sarcasm. I like to make fun and joke at other people...but I never, ever do it to be mean or hurtful. And I don't mind being on the receiving end either, but that's because I don't let it get to me too much. I can't imagine telling another HUMAN BEING that they could not use my toilet because their germs are different than mine, or that they had to take a separate car or bus than I do because I am not sharing air with them. I cannot believe that that kind of behavior went on and yet I know that it did. It is just mind-boggling. It makes me wonder if people these days forget about slavery and how we used to treat others because it sure isn't a whole lot different than bullying.
God says we should treat others as we would want to be treated. The Golden Rule. We are to love one another. As our preacher pointed out in our sermon yesterday, we are called to build others up. Our job is to love and encourage one another. It is hard at times, and may even feel impossible because we don't always like every person we come into contact with. God doesn't command us to like them, he commands us to love them and be kind to them. It can be a fine line, but it is possible.
Even though my kids would argue with this, I would not participate in slavery. I could, however, be considered a bully, I suppose, with my teasing and joking. I pray that God will grant me the ability to know when enough is enough as to not intentionally hurt someone else with my silliness. Thankfully, slavery is a thing of the past. Unfortunately, we now have bullying to replace it. The commandment God gives us is nothing new, it is the same as it has always been: We are to love one another, plain and simple. (Oh, and go see The Help if you can, it's really good!!)
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Safe and secure from all alarms...
Name that tune, friends. Answer is: Leaning on the Everlasting Arms!! Note, it says Arms in the title, not Alarms. Perhaps some day I'll learn...
So here is where we begin our story with our security system. Several years ago when our friends' house was broken into for the second time, we purchased and had a security system installed. These friends live just one country block south and through the woods from us, so it was pretty close to home. Jay works shiftwork which means he works nights occasionally. Our friends bought a system and we decided to as well. I have always been a fraidy cat, scared of robbers (as my Grandma likes to tell it) and basically anything that goes bump in the night. The first year of Jay's new job was very hard for me. Many, many nights I just stayed up into the wee hours because I was too afraid to go to sleep. Now, we had the alarm system...Yes, that will make everything safe and secure.
Safe and secure from whom I suppose is the question. Here goes. With the security systems comes a fire/smoke alarm system and carbon monoxide detector and also a panic type code that we can activate by pushing a certain button to call for an ambulance (which we didn't realize until later, another story). All of it is tied into the security system and when certain signals are received at the dispatch, they immediately contact the fire department and 911. If it's just a regular breach of the security system or power failure, they will call us first. We can always call them and report things as long as we call the number and give them our code.
We have a wood stove in the basement. At times I will use that wood stove as an incinerator. I will stuff it full of papers that need destroyed or shredded and set it ablaze. Old bank statements and checks, in you go. Cardboard boxes, tear them up so they fit and throw them in. It has versatile features...heat the house/destroys personal papers and excess cardboard. The trouble is when burning paper and cardboard, that sort of fire creates a lot of smoke. Smoke that can reach the smoke alarm...
So I'm stuffing the wood stove full of papers and cardboard and shutting the door, opening the door, stuffing more, etc...when the alarm alerts and starts blaring. I don't know why, but panic ensued. I mean I'm standing right there and I know there is no fire or emergency, but I went ballistic. Oh, crud, I thought, I have got to call the security company before the fire department is dispatched. (Does this sound familiar?) So I find a phone, locate the number and make the call...all the while the alarm is blaring.
"Security Tech, may I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Sarah W, this is our pass code, we do not have a fire, but the alarms are going off."
"Ma'am, I don't see a signal at that location."
"Can't you hear it? It's blaring."
"No, I'm sorry, we're not showing any signals from your address."
"How can that be? I'm burning papers in my wood stove and there's smoke and the alarm is going off. Can't you hear that?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, we are not showing anything."
Then it hits me, as I look up at the alarm located directly in front of the wood stove, that is our OLD smoke detector that we left up there even when the new ones were installed. I told her what I had realized and hung up, grabbed a ladder and shut the stupid thing up. I haven't burnt excess paper in the wood stove since. This security system saga will continue...but until next time, I'm leaning on the everlasting arms...
So here is where we begin our story with our security system. Several years ago when our friends' house was broken into for the second time, we purchased and had a security system installed. These friends live just one country block south and through the woods from us, so it was pretty close to home. Jay works shiftwork which means he works nights occasionally. Our friends bought a system and we decided to as well. I have always been a fraidy cat, scared of robbers (as my Grandma likes to tell it) and basically anything that goes bump in the night. The first year of Jay's new job was very hard for me. Many, many nights I just stayed up into the wee hours because I was too afraid to go to sleep. Now, we had the alarm system...Yes, that will make everything safe and secure.
Safe and secure from whom I suppose is the question. Here goes. With the security systems comes a fire/smoke alarm system and carbon monoxide detector and also a panic type code that we can activate by pushing a certain button to call for an ambulance (which we didn't realize until later, another story). All of it is tied into the security system and when certain signals are received at the dispatch, they immediately contact the fire department and 911. If it's just a regular breach of the security system or power failure, they will call us first. We can always call them and report things as long as we call the number and give them our code.
We have a wood stove in the basement. At times I will use that wood stove as an incinerator. I will stuff it full of papers that need destroyed or shredded and set it ablaze. Old bank statements and checks, in you go. Cardboard boxes, tear them up so they fit and throw them in. It has versatile features...heat the house/destroys personal papers and excess cardboard. The trouble is when burning paper and cardboard, that sort of fire creates a lot of smoke. Smoke that can reach the smoke alarm...
So I'm stuffing the wood stove full of papers and cardboard and shutting the door, opening the door, stuffing more, etc...when the alarm alerts and starts blaring. I don't know why, but panic ensued. I mean I'm standing right there and I know there is no fire or emergency, but I went ballistic. Oh, crud, I thought, I have got to call the security company before the fire department is dispatched. (Does this sound familiar?) So I find a phone, locate the number and make the call...all the while the alarm is blaring.
"Security Tech, may I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Sarah W, this is our pass code, we do not have a fire, but the alarms are going off."
"Ma'am, I don't see a signal at that location."
"Can't you hear it? It's blaring."
"No, I'm sorry, we're not showing any signals from your address."
"How can that be? I'm burning papers in my wood stove and there's smoke and the alarm is going off. Can't you hear that?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, we are not showing anything."
Then it hits me, as I look up at the alarm located directly in front of the wood stove, that is our OLD smoke detector that we left up there even when the new ones were installed. I told her what I had realized and hung up, grabbed a ladder and shut the stupid thing up. I haven't burnt excess paper in the wood stove since. This security system saga will continue...but until next time, I'm leaning on the everlasting arms...
Monday, October 10, 2011
Hate mail
I received hate mail via a text this evening "It's been three days and no blog post!" Sorry, to my six followers and my secret readers for my laziness...Can you tell that I have loads of time at work and not as much on the weekends? I normally write my weekend blogs ahead of time because I know I won't get to it. And since the precious Hank the Tank II ate through my laptop computer cord...I have to bring home my mini work laptop to use and I don't always do that...So, it is really Hank II's fault that I haven't blogged this long-exhausting weekend.
Saw a good movie last night with the kiddos and some friends, Dolphin Tail. It is based on a true story and is very good. Ate tons of popcorn and drank lots of my Diet Pepsi...The Robinson theater has Pepsi products which is why they receive 95% of my movie-going business...and you better believe it's worth the five movies I get to see a year :)
I'm not spellchecking or proofreading this so I apologize again if there are typos. We were supposed to have a trial tomorrow and it is off so I'll have some spare time tomorrow to write again...after I finish up my real work, of course. Right now I need to get back to the ball game...the Cardinals are taking this one tonight!
Saw a good movie last night with the kiddos and some friends, Dolphin Tail. It is based on a true story and is very good. Ate tons of popcorn and drank lots of my Diet Pepsi...The Robinson theater has Pepsi products which is why they receive 95% of my movie-going business...and you better believe it's worth the five movies I get to see a year :)
I'm not spellchecking or proofreading this so I apologize again if there are typos. We were supposed to have a trial tomorrow and it is off so I'll have some spare time tomorrow to write again...after I finish up my real work, of course. Right now I need to get back to the ball game...the Cardinals are taking this one tonight!
Friday, October 7, 2011
Out with the Old, In with the New...
We are still the SAME BIG BLUE! Today is the day that we will dedicate our beautiful new school building. Excitement is buzzing, you can feel it. It coincides with our Homecoming festivities which makes it even more exciting. The Student Council and their trusty leaders incorporated the theme of the dedication into Homecoming and I think that was an awesome idea. It sounds as if we could have one of our biggest parades ever and there will be lots of alumni in town for the day.
As I noted in a previous post about my small town that I dearly love, I'm super stoked about today. I know sometimes the anticipation is better than the actual event, and that is okay too. It is good to have things to look forward to. Last weekend, we (Booster Club) spent almost five hours painting a huge M with a streak at the four-way stop and another one directly in front of the entrance to our high school. We connected the two M's with smaller white "Bluestreaks" every 24 steps (yes, that's how it was counted) down the Main Street. We had beautiful weather and cooperative drivers, although we were quite surprised at the amount of traffic on a Sunday afternoon.
The parade will be taking a little different route this year...yes, another change, they will actually go backwards, which really makes a lot more sense. They will hit the downtown first instead of last...which means you won't have to worry about running out of candy before you reach the biggest crowds. It begins at 3. There is a retired teacher's dinner at the Masonic Lodge afterwards. The dedication ceremony begins at 5:30. The Booster Tailgate begins at 6, with tenderloin sandwiches and hotdogs on the menu. The PTO, Student Council and Booster Club will have Bluestreak-Wear for sale. (A lot of people have worked very hard for this very day...THANK YOU!!)
Kickoff is at 7:00. I have no idea what the other team's record is this year, but the Blue is doing the best it has in years. We are 3-1 in the conference and the only team we've lost to in the conference is undefeated (and wouldn't you know that is the only game I've attended this year, hopefully I'm not a curse!). That's not too shabby. We may be small, but we are mighty. You have to always give us credit. We have half as many players as most teams, which means that most of our boys don't get a break. It has been that way for years. It isn't an excuse, it's just the way it is if we want to continue to have a football team.
The homecoming dance will follow the football game as usual. There will be all kinds of rushing and scrambling after the game to get cleaned up and changed for the dance. That too was just part of the Homecoming excitement. I'm hoping to sneak a peek of the gym they are decorating for the dance, half retro, half more current, to go along with the Old and the New. (Do you think they would notice if a thirty-something mama was kickin' it up on the dance floor?)
My kids are young enough that I'm going to be doing this for a long time, which is a-okay with me. I have the day off, as I have for years. I don't think I have missed a Homecoming parade ever...but I can't swear to it. I often wonder if it will always be exciting to me, but then again, I think of my grandma. She is 93 and plans to attend as always, sitting downtown in the same spot, trying to figure out who people are as they pass.
Out with the Old, In with the New, (no matter what you're feelings on the old school being gone), we are still the same BIG BLUE.
As I noted in a previous post about my small town that I dearly love, I'm super stoked about today. I know sometimes the anticipation is better than the actual event, and that is okay too. It is good to have things to look forward to. Last weekend, we (Booster Club) spent almost five hours painting a huge M with a streak at the four-way stop and another one directly in front of the entrance to our high school. We connected the two M's with smaller white "Bluestreaks" every 24 steps (yes, that's how it was counted) down the Main Street. We had beautiful weather and cooperative drivers, although we were quite surprised at the amount of traffic on a Sunday afternoon.
The parade will be taking a little different route this year...yes, another change, they will actually go backwards, which really makes a lot more sense. They will hit the downtown first instead of last...which means you won't have to worry about running out of candy before you reach the biggest crowds. It begins at 3. There is a retired teacher's dinner at the Masonic Lodge afterwards. The dedication ceremony begins at 5:30. The Booster Tailgate begins at 6, with tenderloin sandwiches and hotdogs on the menu. The PTO, Student Council and Booster Club will have Bluestreak-Wear for sale. (A lot of people have worked very hard for this very day...THANK YOU!!)
Kickoff is at 7:00. I have no idea what the other team's record is this year, but the Blue is doing the best it has in years. We are 3-1 in the conference and the only team we've lost to in the conference is undefeated (and wouldn't you know that is the only game I've attended this year, hopefully I'm not a curse!). That's not too shabby. We may be small, but we are mighty. You have to always give us credit. We have half as many players as most teams, which means that most of our boys don't get a break. It has been that way for years. It isn't an excuse, it's just the way it is if we want to continue to have a football team.
The homecoming dance will follow the football game as usual. There will be all kinds of rushing and scrambling after the game to get cleaned up and changed for the dance. That too was just part of the Homecoming excitement. I'm hoping to sneak a peek of the gym they are decorating for the dance, half retro, half more current, to go along with the Old and the New. (Do you think they would notice if a thirty-something mama was kickin' it up on the dance floor?)
My kids are young enough that I'm going to be doing this for a long time, which is a-okay with me. I have the day off, as I have for years. I don't think I have missed a Homecoming parade ever...but I can't swear to it. I often wonder if it will always be exciting to me, but then again, I think of my grandma. She is 93 and plans to attend as always, sitting downtown in the same spot, trying to figure out who people are as they pass.
Out with the Old, In with the New, (no matter what you're feelings on the old school being gone), we are still the same BIG BLUE.
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