The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly. John 10:10 (NKJV)
Can you tell that I'm taking a blog break?! I'm hoping someone has noticed. Maybe not. That's okay too.
Tomorrow is 2014, a new year. I've already made one resolution: to knit more. I know I can do this. And it's probably the most excited I've been about a resolution because I know I can do it. It's like saying, I resolve to eat junk, more chocolate and be lazy. If I said that, I know I could accomplish it, but that's not really good for me.
Of course, I'm vowing to make healthier choices, exercise, read my bible more, etc. Why not? We should always strive to improve our lifestyle, right?
It's when we stop wanting to do better that becomes the real problem. If you are in a slump right now, please pray and ask God to help you out of it. Not because a new year begins tomorrow, but because you are alive. Any day can be a fresh start. God gave us the gift of life and we're to live it abundantly. God deserves our best and so do you.
No matter what you're going through right now, there is hope in Jesus Christ - Yesterday, today and in 2014.
Happy New Year, Friends!
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Grandpa's butter
As a child, I remember vividly there being two sticks of butter on the table at Grandma's house; one for Grandpa and one for the rest of us. Grandpa preferred REAL butter. So that white stick was Grandpa's butter - yuck. We were careful not to grab his butter by mistake, it tasted so awful. Our butter was yellow.
Grandma had the plastic Tupperware brand butter dishes, one with a clear (sort of) lid and one with a solid (tan/dirty yellow) lid (as above). We knew which was which, although at this moment I cannot tell you how it went, and we knew when setting the table that both butter dishes went out.
When I was learning to cook with my mom or grandma, I remember coming to the realization that margarine was butter, or at least what we called butter...or that other weird word, oleo. I thought margarine was good for us...until a couple years ago when I stumbled across an article that basically said margarine was one molecule away from being considered plastic. Oh, boy, doesn't that sound super yummy?
For a few years I have been back and forth between using real butter, margarine, low-fat, 'healthy' margarine, spreadable butter made with canola oil, blah, blah, blah. I have finally decided to stick with the real butter and all its glory.
The big complaint at my house with the real butter was its spreading capabilities. Alas, the role of the butter dish.
I went to Walmart to buy a butter dish, hoping for the plastic one, to leave out on my counter. I searched the isles for what seemed like forever and had to go with a glass one. It has claimed an empty space on the counter next to the toaster. (And a few days later, I was cleaning out the camper for the winter...and found one of my grandma's plastic butter trays!)
I know that real butter is not necessarily healthy, but man, is it good. I love spreading that soft, real butter across toast or a roll, or anything for that matter...By the way, I'm starting to get hungry, could you pass Grandpa's butter, please?
| Vintage Tupperware? |
Grandma had the plastic Tupperware brand butter dishes, one with a clear (sort of) lid and one with a solid (tan/dirty yellow) lid (as above). We knew which was which, although at this moment I cannot tell you how it went, and we knew when setting the table that both butter dishes went out.
When I was learning to cook with my mom or grandma, I remember coming to the realization that margarine was butter, or at least what we called butter...or that other weird word, oleo. I thought margarine was good for us...until a couple years ago when I stumbled across an article that basically said margarine was one molecule away from being considered plastic. Oh, boy, doesn't that sound super yummy?
For a few years I have been back and forth between using real butter, margarine, low-fat, 'healthy' margarine, spreadable butter made with canola oil, blah, blah, blah. I have finally decided to stick with the real butter and all its glory.
The big complaint at my house with the real butter was its spreading capabilities. Alas, the role of the butter dish.
I went to Walmart to buy a butter dish, hoping for the plastic one, to leave out on my counter. I searched the isles for what seemed like forever and had to go with a glass one. It has claimed an empty space on the counter next to the toaster. (And a few days later, I was cleaning out the camper for the winter...and found one of my grandma's plastic butter trays!)
I know that real butter is not necessarily healthy, but man, is it good. I love spreading that soft, real butter across toast or a roll, or anything for that matter...By the way, I'm starting to get hungry, could you pass Grandpa's butter, please?
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
To knit or exercise? That is the question...
I was thinking yesterday...it's really good to have a healthy hobby, but it's not so good to have an addiction. My problem is always with balancing things. At this point in time, I am totally consumed with knitting. I could knit 24 hours a day if time, work, hands, arms, supplies allowed for it. (Okay, I may be exaggerating a tad, but...) I'm in love with knitting.
In my mind, I was comparing this passion for knitting every spare moment to how my BFF spends some of his spare time - exercising. Why can't I become consumed with exercising...something other than my fingers and hands (which is becoming a problem, by the way)? Gosh, if only I could somehow have a little of both...the gumption and discipline to exercise for my health...and then relax by knitting.
I think my BFF finds running through hilly, snow-covered bike paths relaxing. To me, it sounds simply treacherous. And he will go run miles after doing an extreme work-out video. What is wrong with that man?! I'm at that point where I feel like the knitting has become my excuse to not exercise. I want my spare time for knitting and nothing else.
I saw an article last week about a man breaking a world record - running a marathon and knitting a 12-foot, 9-inch scarf. First of all, my BFF couldn't understand a man wanting to knit, but all I could think about is, who in their right mind thought of trying this and set the first record? I've been told by a friend that she has crocheted while walking on the treadmill. I'm just not sure I'm that talented...and I certainly don't need a broken ankle or leg.
I'm hoping real soon to find that balance I have so much trouble with...in more ways than one. (Don't even ask me to stand on one foot right now.) But my goodness, it's almost the end of the year, so why not wait until January 1 to turn over my new leaf? I would hate to break tradition...better keep knitting.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Advent for a Meaningful Christmas
This year I was invited to be a part of an advent project called "A Meaningful Christmas." A friend decided that she wanted to make Christmas more meaningful for her very young daughter and found something on Pinterest that caught her eye. It involved creating 25 ornaments having to do with the Christmas story, exchanging them with 24 other people and it also included 25 short devotionals and verses to go along with each ornament/day. The countdown was to begin on December 1.
I was given day #21 which was about God being our compass or GPS which went along with the following verse: Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." (John 14:6) I used a nifty-shaped piece of card stock and with a large rubber stamp and red ink, I stamped a big hand with the pointer finger out, and wrote "This Way..." on the front. On the back, I put the bible verse assigned to me, numbered it and dated it. It was fairly simple, but to the point. (You know how hard that is for me- I only had so much room?!)
We gathered near the end of November and exchanged the ornaments. It was fun to see what each person had come up with to signify their given verse or story. There are some very creative people out there! My friend put together a booklet for us each to take that gave us the devo and verse that went along with each ornament, and she provided a plastic tote for everything to go in. She did an excellent job with all of it, and I was pretty pumped about beginning the advent.
For some reason, I just don't get into decorating for Christmas like I used to, which is sad really. But I must say we got our tree up in better time than last year, and that was due in part to the fact we used the one that stands in our storage room in the basement - as opposed to one growing at the tree farm. I was starting to panic about how far behind we were falling with the advent. The tree was decorated and ready for the advent ornaments this past Sunday. We had eight ornaments to catch up on and we did them all at once that night.
I have to admit I was surprised that a) my family didn't gripe about doing it; b) my children actually did put down their gadgets and focus their eyes on the readings and the ornaments; c) on Monday, my son asked when we would do the next one; and d) last night, my daughter reminded me to do two because we didn't do one on Wednesday after youth. I am thrilled that they remembered and wanted to hear about/see the next ornament.
When decorating the tree, I left a few open spaces because I knew I would be adding 25 ornaments to it, and I look forward to filling those holes with meaningful ornaments. Thank you, my friend, for sharing a more meaningful Christmas with my family.
I was given day #21 which was about God being our compass or GPS which went along with the following verse: Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." (John 14:6) I used a nifty-shaped piece of card stock and with a large rubber stamp and red ink, I stamped a big hand with the pointer finger out, and wrote "This Way..." on the front. On the back, I put the bible verse assigned to me, numbered it and dated it. It was fairly simple, but to the point. (You know how hard that is for me- I only had so much room?!)
We gathered near the end of November and exchanged the ornaments. It was fun to see what each person had come up with to signify their given verse or story. There are some very creative people out there! My friend put together a booklet for us each to take that gave us the devo and verse that went along with each ornament, and she provided a plastic tote for everything to go in. She did an excellent job with all of it, and I was pretty pumped about beginning the advent.
For some reason, I just don't get into decorating for Christmas like I used to, which is sad really. But I must say we got our tree up in better time than last year, and that was due in part to the fact we used the one that stands in our storage room in the basement - as opposed to one growing at the tree farm. I was starting to panic about how far behind we were falling with the advent. The tree was decorated and ready for the advent ornaments this past Sunday. We had eight ornaments to catch up on and we did them all at once that night.
I have to admit I was surprised that a) my family didn't gripe about doing it; b) my children actually did put down their gadgets and focus their eyes on the readings and the ornaments; c) on Monday, my son asked when we would do the next one; and d) last night, my daughter reminded me to do two because we didn't do one on Wednesday after youth. I am thrilled that they remembered and wanted to hear about/see the next ornament.
When decorating the tree, I left a few open spaces because I knew I would be adding 25 ornaments to it, and I look forward to filling those holes with meaningful ornaments. Thank you, my friend, for sharing a more meaningful Christmas with my family.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
'80s on Eight - I think so.
I'm pretty sure that Sirius/XM Radio was created, in part, to torture young children. That is my take on it anyway. I had XM radio many years ago when I commuted to work. At first, I thought it was silly to pay for radio, but once I had it, I was hooked. I listened to a lot of Dave Ramsey shows over the years, and it helped pass the time as I drove many miles.
Jay has Sirius in his truck, but I'm not in there a whole lot. I traded vehicles a couple weeks ago and it came with a year subscription to Sirius...and I am loving it! Eighties on Eight and Nineties on Nine are fabulous. I must admit I enjoy a little Hairnation too! I love, love, love to hear music from my younger years. What is it about the power of music that it can take you back to a particular time - the very moment you hear a certain song?
One of the other things I like about the Sirius radio is it gives you the name of the song, the artist or band and the year it was released. I love telling my kids, hey, I loved this song...back when I was only ten years old, etc.
And the kids think it is just torturous when Jay and I are in the front seat with our favorite channels on, singing along and blasting those sweet tunes as loud as we can. They beg us to turn the channel, make faces, huff and puff...and we love it.
If I really want to make them crazy, I put it back to the Sixties on Six channel. I love music from that decade and they really think it's archaic. The Beatles, the Turtles, the Monkees, CCR...oh yeah!
The night before Thanksgiving, I took Madolyn and some of her friends to watch Catching Fire. On the way home (sometime around midnight - I was having trouble with tired eyes), I decided I had had enough of their obnoxious music, turned the radio to my tunes...and sang along to keep me awake and to help keep my sanity. It was so funny, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" came on and I piped up and told the kids, "I remember getting this RECORD for Christmas." Immediately after that, a Men At Work song came on, and I laughed and told them that the very same year, my brother got that record for Christmas.
I'm sure they didn't appreciate that little blast from my past, but it made me smile. I love music, lots of different kinds of music, and how they connect us to our memories. And I will continue to Rock On to the detriment of my children...
Jay has Sirius in his truck, but I'm not in there a whole lot. I traded vehicles a couple weeks ago and it came with a year subscription to Sirius...and I am loving it! Eighties on Eight and Nineties on Nine are fabulous. I must admit I enjoy a little Hairnation too! I love, love, love to hear music from my younger years. What is it about the power of music that it can take you back to a particular time - the very moment you hear a certain song?
One of the other things I like about the Sirius radio is it gives you the name of the song, the artist or band and the year it was released. I love telling my kids, hey, I loved this song...back when I was only ten years old, etc.
And the kids think it is just torturous when Jay and I are in the front seat with our favorite channels on, singing along and blasting those sweet tunes as loud as we can. They beg us to turn the channel, make faces, huff and puff...and we love it.
If I really want to make them crazy, I put it back to the Sixties on Six channel. I love music from that decade and they really think it's archaic. The Beatles, the Turtles, the Monkees, CCR...oh yeah!
The night before Thanksgiving, I took Madolyn and some of her friends to watch Catching Fire. On the way home (sometime around midnight - I was having trouble with tired eyes), I decided I had had enough of their obnoxious music, turned the radio to my tunes...and sang along to keep me awake and to help keep my sanity. It was so funny, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" came on and I piped up and told the kids, "I remember getting this RECORD for Christmas." Immediately after that, a Men At Work song came on, and I laughed and told them that the very same year, my brother got that record for Christmas.
I'm sure they didn't appreciate that little blast from my past, but it made me smile. I love music, lots of different kinds of music, and how they connect us to our memories. And I will continue to Rock On to the detriment of my children...
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Josie, my adolescent kitty
I have decided that maybe our one-year-old, Sweet Josie, is in sync with our thirteen-year-old daughter's stage in life...mood swings, emotional bursts and such. And here's why...
Josie wants to be near me most of the time. She may not want to be on my lap or touching any part of my body, but she will be within an arm's length. If I am knitting on the bed, she will curl up at the end of it. If I'm on the couch or in the chair knitting or watching television, she will sit a few feet away or on the back of the couch.
Every morning, she joins me as I shower. And no, she doesn't get in the shower with me, but 99% of the time, as long as I have left the door to the bathroom open a little, she will come in and sit between the shower curtain and liner while I shower. I cannot resist poking and prodding her through the liner either. Her fat little belly makes a bump that screams out to me like the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
Every night as soon as everyone has gone to bed and all of the lights are off, she jumps up on our bed and curls up near my legs or in between them...which is exactly what Meepie used to do. If I'm cooking at the stove, she will get on one of the counter chairs and watch me. It's at just the right level where she can sit on the chair and see over the counter. When she hears me start the washing machine (she loves the water), she jumps up on the dryer and watches until the lid closes.
So that sounds all sweet and everything, I know, but now comes the irrational, moody, psycho adolescent part...from out of nowhere she will pounce on me, attack, bite, strike, whatever you want to call it. I can be petting her for crying out loud, she'll start purring and suddenly strike at me like a venomous snake. It's ridiculous.
I cannot walk around or near our bed without being attacked at the ankles. She 'hides' under the bed (i.e. about one-third of her body is out of plain sight) and grabs at our feet repeatedly. Going without socks is not an option. If she is feeling ignored by the humans, she makes her presence known by knocking something off onto the floor, dragging out socks, scratching on the door frame or furniture, and has even stretched out in front of our television to block our view.
This sweet kitty stalks or circles the area around her food dish and then drops single food pellets into her metal dish when it needs filled...making sure I notice she's hit the bottom. She hovers around when we're snacking on something, waiting for the right moment to sneak a bite and might possibly even bat something out of our hand.
It just dawned on me how very similar this behavior is when compared with our thirteen-year-old daughter. It's like she wants to be around us, yet she acts like she hates us, we're stupid, we're annoying, but she needs us, you know, the typical stuff. I suppose if she had fangs and claws, she might even strike.
My hope is that the ratio of cat-to-human years is in my favor and that very, very soon, this too shall pass. For now, please ignore the battle scars...
Josie wants to be near me most of the time. She may not want to be on my lap or touching any part of my body, but she will be within an arm's length. If I am knitting on the bed, she will curl up at the end of it. If I'm on the couch or in the chair knitting or watching television, she will sit a few feet away or on the back of the couch.
Every morning, she joins me as I shower. And no, she doesn't get in the shower with me, but 99% of the time, as long as I have left the door to the bathroom open a little, she will come in and sit between the shower curtain and liner while I shower. I cannot resist poking and prodding her through the liner either. Her fat little belly makes a bump that screams out to me like the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
Every night as soon as everyone has gone to bed and all of the lights are off, she jumps up on our bed and curls up near my legs or in between them...which is exactly what Meepie used to do. If I'm cooking at the stove, she will get on one of the counter chairs and watch me. It's at just the right level where she can sit on the chair and see over the counter. When she hears me start the washing machine (she loves the water), she jumps up on the dryer and watches until the lid closes.
So that sounds all sweet and everything, I know, but now comes the irrational, moody, psycho adolescent part...from out of nowhere she will pounce on me, attack, bite, strike, whatever you want to call it. I can be petting her for crying out loud, she'll start purring and suddenly strike at me like a venomous snake. It's ridiculous.
I cannot walk around or near our bed without being attacked at the ankles. She 'hides' under the bed (i.e. about one-third of her body is out of plain sight) and grabs at our feet repeatedly. Going without socks is not an option. If she is feeling ignored by the humans, she makes her presence known by knocking something off onto the floor, dragging out socks, scratching on the door frame or furniture, and has even stretched out in front of our television to block our view.
This sweet kitty stalks or circles the area around her food dish and then drops single food pellets into her metal dish when it needs filled...making sure I notice she's hit the bottom. She hovers around when we're snacking on something, waiting for the right moment to sneak a bite and might possibly even bat something out of our hand.
It just dawned on me how very similar this behavior is when compared with our thirteen-year-old daughter. It's like she wants to be around us, yet she acts like she hates us, we're stupid, we're annoying, but she needs us, you know, the typical stuff. I suppose if she had fangs and claws, she might even strike.
My hope is that the ratio of cat-to-human years is in my favor and that very, very soon, this too shall pass. For now, please ignore the battle scars...
Thursday, December 5, 2013
My Miracle Towel
A couple months ago, I started waking up with what I'll call a crooked neck. It was just slightly annoying at first, but over time became quite a problem. I visited my friendly chiropractor across the street and he loosened it up a little. As he was manipulating my neck, he was quizzing me on reasons my neck muscles might be in a tither...and then he asked the question that I was afraid to answer for fear of what he would say,
"What position do you sleep in at night?" Oh, phooey, here goes. "I'm a stomach sleeper."
Ahhh. I have always been a stomach sleeper, or for at least as long as I can remember, and I really like to sleep on my stomach. As a side note, Jaybird is what I would call a corpse sleeper - he looks like a corpse - on his back with his hands folded neatly on his stomach. SUPER CREEPY.
Back to my neck...the chiropractor described it to me like this, "What if you sat all day with your head turned to the left? After seven or eight hours, it would be sore and tight."
Makes sense, I suppose, but it didn't make me very happy. He gave me some neck exercises to do to help loosen it up and told me to try a couple different sleeping positions.
I tried the suggestions and it would help slightly, but before long, the neck pain first thing in the morning was simply unbearable. I am not a crier, but one morning, I think I actually did shed a tear. (I quickly realized that wasn't going to solve anything, I took some Aleve and got into a very hot shower.)
Usually, by mid-morning, my neck would loosen a bit and I could tolerate the tenderness for the rest of the day, but I just dreaded bedtime because I could not stand the thought of waking up with that silly neck pain.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to do what we all do anymore when we have a question that we need an answer for...I googled it.
I put in something like, "morning neck pain," and could not believe how common this problem was. As I would click on a link and read, it was as if some of these people were describing my problematic neck pain.
The most popular solution: Roll up a bath towel and sleep with it under your neck. It didn't say that I would have to sleep on my back or my side with the towel under my neck, it simply said to put the towel under my neck.
Sweet Jesus, it worked. And I mean that. That towel trick is like a miracle to me. After only a night or two, the pain in my neck was gone. Well, Jay (the corpse) is still around, but... (Haha, I had to say that.)
Two nights ago about one a.m., I woke up in a panic. I could not locate my towel, which had been snugly in place when I went to bed. I searched in the dark and found that it had slithered up against the headboard. I was so afraid that because I had been without it, for however long, I would wake up with the pain. Thankfully, I didn't.
Every morning when I wake up, I put my miracle towel behind the pillow and make my bed. I'm sure they sell something similar to a rolled-up towel for this exact purpose, but I've been thinking...the rolled-up towel sure looks a lot like a skein of yarn, a very big skein of yarn, or a sleeve that could store a lot of yarn...
"What position do you sleep in at night?" Oh, phooey, here goes. "I'm a stomach sleeper."
Ahhh. I have always been a stomach sleeper, or for at least as long as I can remember, and I really like to sleep on my stomach. As a side note, Jaybird is what I would call a corpse sleeper - he looks like a corpse - on his back with his hands folded neatly on his stomach. SUPER CREEPY.
Back to my neck...the chiropractor described it to me like this, "What if you sat all day with your head turned to the left? After seven or eight hours, it would be sore and tight."
Makes sense, I suppose, but it didn't make me very happy. He gave me some neck exercises to do to help loosen it up and told me to try a couple different sleeping positions.
I tried the suggestions and it would help slightly, but before long, the neck pain first thing in the morning was simply unbearable. I am not a crier, but one morning, I think I actually did shed a tear. (I quickly realized that wasn't going to solve anything, I took some Aleve and got into a very hot shower.)
Usually, by mid-morning, my neck would loosen a bit and I could tolerate the tenderness for the rest of the day, but I just dreaded bedtime because I could not stand the thought of waking up with that silly neck pain.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to do what we all do anymore when we have a question that we need an answer for...I googled it.
I put in something like, "morning neck pain," and could not believe how common this problem was. As I would click on a link and read, it was as if some of these people were describing my problematic neck pain.
The most popular solution: Roll up a bath towel and sleep with it under your neck. It didn't say that I would have to sleep on my back or my side with the towel under my neck, it simply said to put the towel under my neck.
Sweet Jesus, it worked. And I mean that. That towel trick is like a miracle to me. After only a night or two, the pain in my neck was gone. Well, Jay (the corpse) is still around, but... (Haha, I had to say that.)
Two nights ago about one a.m., I woke up in a panic. I could not locate my towel, which had been snugly in place when I went to bed. I searched in the dark and found that it had slithered up against the headboard. I was so afraid that because I had been without it, for however long, I would wake up with the pain. Thankfully, I didn't.
Every morning when I wake up, I put my miracle towel behind the pillow and make my bed. I'm sure they sell something similar to a rolled-up towel for this exact purpose, but I've been thinking...the rolled-up towel sure looks a lot like a skein of yarn, a very big skein of yarn, or a sleeve that could store a lot of yarn...
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Darn Yarn
Can you tell I'm distracted by other things? I must admit, I have an addictive personality apparently. It's a darn good thing I've never been into drugs. I cannot control the knitting. I love it. I love to buy yarn. I buy yarn and think, okay, I don't need to even look at another skein of yarn until I have used up what I have...and then Joann Fabric's online calls my name, or the best store ever, The Yarn Studio, in our neighboring town, has their 20% off sale.
Jay commented last week that if the delivery people knew they were delivering a box of yarn to my doorstep, they would be mad. I say no, they wouldn't, it's job security. And furthermore, they deliver pig semen to our house...I can't imagine that yarn is worse.
How much stuff can one person knit? Lots of things! In a 24-hour period this past weekend, I completed three pretty cool hats. THREE. And I did other things. It wasn't like I just sat down and did nothing but knit...but I completed three hats.
I have stacks and stacks of yarn and books and patterns. The internet is so awesome, I can print off all the free patterns I want. There is no limit...except that the binder I started is about to bust. I'm going to have to go for the two or three-inch thick binder. The little one will hardly hold my tab labeled "Hats."
I would like to try some new harder stuff soon, but feel like a lesson with the knitting guru is in order before I begin that. I tried to make a fingerless glove...and I got the fingerless part right...but had no hole for the thumb. Hmm.
Jay has told me that I mustn't knit things for people without them asking because not everyone wants a wardrobe full of knitted wonders...so if anyone is desirous of a hat, scarf, cowl, infinity scarf, etc...let me know what you would like!
Jay commented last week that if the delivery people knew they were delivering a box of yarn to my doorstep, they would be mad. I say no, they wouldn't, it's job security. And furthermore, they deliver pig semen to our house...I can't imagine that yarn is worse.
How much stuff can one person knit? Lots of things! In a 24-hour period this past weekend, I completed three pretty cool hats. THREE. And I did other things. It wasn't like I just sat down and did nothing but knit...but I completed three hats.
I have stacks and stacks of yarn and books and patterns. The internet is so awesome, I can print off all the free patterns I want. There is no limit...except that the binder I started is about to bust. I'm going to have to go for the two or three-inch thick binder. The little one will hardly hold my tab labeled "Hats."
I would like to try some new harder stuff soon, but feel like a lesson with the knitting guru is in order before I begin that. I tried to make a fingerless glove...and I got the fingerless part right...but had no hole for the thumb. Hmm.
Jay has told me that I mustn't knit things for people without them asking because not everyone wants a wardrobe full of knitted wonders...so if anyone is desirous of a hat, scarf, cowl, infinity scarf, etc...let me know what you would like!
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Country smarts
When compared to someone with high intelligence, I will not measure up. I'm not overflowing with vast knowledge one might gain from higher education and lots of reading (non-fiction). But I can tell you how to get a cow off a bridge.
Earlier this week an out-of-town (northerner) attorney was in court and we were casually talking. He mentioned that he had been in a county in Illinois and there was a cow 'stuck on a bridge.' The expression on my face had to have been a good one. And he went on to explain that, there was a big cow literally standing on a bridge and no one could figure out how to get it off there. Traffic was at a standstill.
These are the moments when I feel really smart. They don't happen very often, but when they come around, I must admit I love it.
And without being a smart aleck (which I have been known to be a time or two), I said, "Get a bucket of feed." He gave me a puzzled look. "Get a bucket of feed, and I bet that cow would follow you anywhere you want to go."
It's times like these when I appreciate the fact that although I'm not 'book smart,' I have lots of life skills and common sense from being raised on a farm in a small community. Don't ask me about the city or another country's geography - I will be dumbfounded. Ask me how to get a cow off a bridge, and I'll hand you a feed bucket.
Earlier this week an out-of-town (northerner) attorney was in court and we were casually talking. He mentioned that he had been in a county in Illinois and there was a cow 'stuck on a bridge.' The expression on my face had to have been a good one. And he went on to explain that, there was a big cow literally standing on a bridge and no one could figure out how to get it off there. Traffic was at a standstill.
These are the moments when I feel really smart. They don't happen very often, but when they come around, I must admit I love it.
And without being a smart aleck (which I have been known to be a time or two), I said, "Get a bucket of feed." He gave me a puzzled look. "Get a bucket of feed, and I bet that cow would follow you anywhere you want to go."
It's times like these when I appreciate the fact that although I'm not 'book smart,' I have lots of life skills and common sense from being raised on a farm in a small community. Don't ask me about the city or another country's geography - I will be dumbfounded. Ask me how to get a cow off a bridge, and I'll hand you a feed bucket.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Hat's off
to the single parents of the world. I applaud you for your efforts and admire your strength. At times I feel like I can handle just about anything...and then reality hits.
Jay is about to end his turnaround at work, which began roughly Oct 1. He has enjoyed a total of three days off during the past several weeks, but we are all ready for this to come to an end. I do realize that there are people out there who work hours like this all the time, that families function this way on a routine basis...but we do not. Thankfully.
Last night Jay and I were talking and I had myself a pity party. It lasted about three minutes and it was over. No tears or anything extreme, just some whining. "I am done with the single parenting gig. How do people do this?"
And I only have two kids. Good grief.
I know you do what you do when you have to and often don't even think about it. I know there are many situations people go through and later in retrospect, it is a total fog. Looking back, I can't believe Jay has worked 12-hour days nearly every day since October 1. But it does seem like forever since he was around and awake for more than 90 minutes - which I don't fault him for.
I'm not talking about major issues with the single parenting role, I mean the real simple ones...bedtime, running kids here and there, meals, animals, just having an adult at home instead of leaving the kids by themselves for a few hours, hunting partners, someone else to send the kid to who will also say "No." I'm so blessed that I have friends and family always willing to help out. I can't even fathom what it's like for single parents who have no support system!
So this post isn't to draw out a pat on the back or to gather sympathy, I'm just expressing my relief at the work marathon coming to an end. (And a break from the 4:30 a.m. alarm!) It is a blessing in many respects and we are thankful for opportunities like this, but again, I say hat's off to the single parents of the world. You have my admiration.
Jay is about to end his turnaround at work, which began roughly Oct 1. He has enjoyed a total of three days off during the past several weeks, but we are all ready for this to come to an end. I do realize that there are people out there who work hours like this all the time, that families function this way on a routine basis...but we do not. Thankfully.
Last night Jay and I were talking and I had myself a pity party. It lasted about three minutes and it was over. No tears or anything extreme, just some whining. "I am done with the single parenting gig. How do people do this?"
And I only have two kids. Good grief.
I know you do what you do when you have to and often don't even think about it. I know there are many situations people go through and later in retrospect, it is a total fog. Looking back, I can't believe Jay has worked 12-hour days nearly every day since October 1. But it does seem like forever since he was around and awake for more than 90 minutes - which I don't fault him for.
I'm not talking about major issues with the single parenting role, I mean the real simple ones...bedtime, running kids here and there, meals, animals, just having an adult at home instead of leaving the kids by themselves for a few hours, hunting partners, someone else to send the kid to who will also say "No." I'm so blessed that I have friends and family always willing to help out. I can't even fathom what it's like for single parents who have no support system!
So this post isn't to draw out a pat on the back or to gather sympathy, I'm just expressing my relief at the work marathon coming to an end. (And a break from the 4:30 a.m. alarm!) It is a blessing in many respects and we are thankful for opportunities like this, but again, I say hat's off to the single parents of the world. You have my admiration.
Friday, November 15, 2013
First and Last
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:40 (NIV)
Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all.” Mark 9:35 (NIV)
I was thinking about Thanksgiving this year and that this will be the first Thanksgiving for us without Grandma Great, which led me to think about Christmas, then Easter...This year, we will be starting something new: Holidays without Grandma Great.
During the course of our lifetime we go through so many "First's." Too many to count. Things that come to mind are events involving our children: first words, first steps, first tooth, first day of school, first dance, first boyfriend/girlfriend, first day of college, etc. Adults: first day on a job, first day of married life, first home...and you could go on and on.
The other significant thing about the word first is that we're always trying to be first...first in line, first done with our homework, first in the tournament, first across the finish line. Rarely do we strive to be last. I know I'm always encouraging my kids to win - or be first. No one wants to be the "loser."
Our society revolves around winning, or being first. Isn't it fitting that Jesus wants us not to worry so much about being first, which is what we spend our whole life focusing on, and instead be last?! Be the least of these. We should never think of ourselves above another.
What if our society shifted its focus away from always being first? What if we really did put everyone else's feelings and best interests above our own? Hmm, now there's a first to think about.
Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all.” Mark 9:35 (NIV)
I was thinking about Thanksgiving this year and that this will be the first Thanksgiving for us without Grandma Great, which led me to think about Christmas, then Easter...This year, we will be starting something new: Holidays without Grandma Great.
During the course of our lifetime we go through so many "First's." Too many to count. Things that come to mind are events involving our children: first words, first steps, first tooth, first day of school, first dance, first boyfriend/girlfriend, first day of college, etc. Adults: first day on a job, first day of married life, first home...and you could go on and on.
The other significant thing about the word first is that we're always trying to be first...first in line, first done with our homework, first in the tournament, first across the finish line. Rarely do we strive to be last. I know I'm always encouraging my kids to win - or be first. No one wants to be the "loser."
Our society revolves around winning, or being first. Isn't it fitting that Jesus wants us not to worry so much about being first, which is what we spend our whole life focusing on, and instead be last?! Be the least of these. We should never think of ourselves above another.
What if our society shifted its focus away from always being first? What if we really did put everyone else's feelings and best interests above our own? Hmm, now there's a first to think about.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Rain-out.
I wrote about our visit to Turkey Run...that was a monsoon no doubt, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the rain that fell over Lincoln Trail and our spots in early July. Holy smokes, we needed an ark.
We actually packed up and went home. We felt like even if the rain quit, and we weren't sure it would, the spots we had were low and would hold water. You'll catch my drift in the picture show.
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| The kids trying to make the best of it... |
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| Lake spillage, I think. |
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| Forget it, we're going inside. |
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| Do you think our fire wood is too wet? |
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Grandma always said...
A couple years ago when Grandma Great tricked us for the first time, I started writing down a few one-liner's that I remembered her saying as we were growing up. She pulled through that episode and the next one and the next one, but I kept adding to that list. I knew eventually I would use it.
I was sure there was no way I could speak at Grandma's funeral, no way, but I thought if I could muster up the strength and record it ahead of time, they could play it...so I did.
If you knew Grandma very well, as you read along, you may be able to imagine her saying a few of these things.
When we were growing up, Grandma always said...
Go get yourself a pop and some candy.
We’ll be at the game.
Look in the east closet of the west bedroom.
We will eat right at noon.
Don’t play on the bed.
Deon and I went on a drive today.
Ssshh, let’s listen to the scanner.
Go get the lighter fluid.
I am not going to let you win, now quit crying…Chris!
It’s got a twang to it.
I made fruit salad and wacky cake today.
Hel-Lo
I’ll have to take my banana salad…you know they’ll be asking for it.
I don’t really have a recipe for that.
And then when we got a little older, Grandma always said...
My name is spelled just how it sounds, MAD-O-LYN.
I've got to pass this car, I don't like anyone in front of me.
You know with your grandpa, we got there before we were invited.
Get me 13 bright red geraniums, 2 spikes and 12 marigolds.
Here, I’ll take out my teeth…your grandpa great used to do this all the time.
Oh, SHUT UP!
Come over, I’ll have the coffee on.
Slice up some cheese and let’s have crackers.
You know I like my collar buttoned to the tip-top.
Don’t pound on the piano.
My favorite color is red; bury me in red.
I used to polish Gene and Gale’s shoes.
I hate it when the corn is up, I can’t see Irene’s…is she home?
We never had it because your grandpa wouldn’t eat it.
I will always buy my groceries at Scottie’s.
What time does the Illini play?
Nellie came down today.
What do you want me to do? I’ll take you anywhere you need to go.
How does it taste? Where’s the critic?
I can touch my toes. I touch my toes ten times every morning.
Oh hush!
Don’t forget, my hair appointment is on Thursday morning.
I climb the stairs every day whether I need to or not, just so I can.
Give me a hug, you sweet thang.
What’s it like outside?
Enjoy running with your kids while you can. It all ended when Chris got his truck.
I just hate you guys waiting on me.
Oh, good, we beat Casey.
The Peppermint Patties – those are for ME.
They aren’t noodles like I make.
Call Harper, the TV isn't working.
So what’s going on in Martinsville?
I need more red lipstick.
I stayed up to watch the Cardinal’s.
I’m so sick of peas, sweet potatoes and carrots.
Look at my nails, aren’t they pretty?
Go on, Sarah, I don’t want you to be late…like the Bennett’s.
No one has been here for days, is something wrong?
I need more cheese.
And dad would say, “Now, Jess…”
Grandma said a lot of things…and we would listen.
Mark reminded me later of a few good one's I forgot:
And the like
So on and so forth
Let's eat, drink and be merry.
I was sure there was no way I could speak at Grandma's funeral, no way, but I thought if I could muster up the strength and record it ahead of time, they could play it...so I did.
If you knew Grandma very well, as you read along, you may be able to imagine her saying a few of these things.
When we were growing up, Grandma always said...
Don’t go near the pond and stay
away from the electric fence.
What are you doing in there,
Petunia?Go get yourself a pop and some candy.
We’ll be at the game.
Look in the east closet of the west bedroom.
We will eat right at noon.
Don’t play on the bed.
Deon and I went on a drive today.
Ssshh, let’s listen to the scanner.
Go get the lighter fluid.
I am not going to let you win, now quit crying…Chris!
It’s got a twang to it.
I made fruit salad and wacky cake today.
Hel-Lo
I’ll have to take my banana salad…you know they’ll be asking for it.
I don’t really have a recipe for that.
And then when we got a little older, Grandma always said...
My name is spelled just how it sounds, MAD-O-LYN.
I've got to pass this car, I don't like anyone in front of me.
You know with your grandpa, we got there before we were invited.
Get me 13 bright red geraniums, 2 spikes and 12 marigolds.
Here, I’ll take out my teeth…your grandpa great used to do this all the time.
Oh, SHUT UP!
Come over, I’ll have the coffee on.
Slice up some cheese and let’s have crackers.
You know I like my collar buttoned to the tip-top.
Don’t pound on the piano.
My favorite color is red; bury me in red.
I used to polish Gene and Gale’s shoes.
I hate it when the corn is up, I can’t see Irene’s…is she home?
We never had it because your grandpa wouldn’t eat it.
I will always buy my groceries at Scottie’s.
What time does the Illini play?
Nellie came down today.
What do you want me to do? I’ll take you anywhere you need to go.
How does it taste? Where’s the critic?
I can touch my toes. I touch my toes ten times every morning.
Oh hush!
Don’t forget, my hair appointment is on Thursday morning.
I climb the stairs every day whether I need to or not, just so I can.
In the past few years, Grandma
always said…
Well, what do you know?
How is my hair in the back?Give me a hug, you sweet thang.
What’s it like outside?
Enjoy running with your kids while you can. It all ended when Chris got his truck.
I just hate you guys waiting on me.
Oh, good, we beat Casey.
The Peppermint Patties – those are for ME.
They aren’t noodles like I make.
Call Harper, the TV isn't working.
So what’s going on in Martinsville?
I need more red lipstick.
I stayed up to watch the Cardinal’s.
I’m so sick of peas, sweet potatoes and carrots.
Look at my nails, aren’t they pretty?
Go on, Sarah, I don’t want you to be late…like the Bennett’s.
No one has been here for days, is something wrong?
I need more cheese.
And dad would say, “Now, Jess…”
Grandma said a lot of things…and we would listen.
Mark reminded me later of a few good one's I forgot:
And the like
So on and so forth
Let's eat, drink and be merry.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
A little perspective
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort. 2 Corinthians 1:3 (NKJV)
It was one of those days from the very moment the alarm started buzzing...actually, it began at 3:30 a.m. when I was startled awake from a nice, deep sleep by my sweet son who has a nasty sore throat and was crying. Time for some meds. I'm one of those that has a hard time going back to sleep, but I gave it a shot.
Today was an early departure day for me because of piano lessons and dropping kids off for bible club. Had to get ready and around by 6:45. I was rushed, frazzled. Jay is texting, kids are texting, another parent is texting. Yes, I'm coming.
Next text from Madolyn, who stayed at home to get ready while I went to get someone, "dog made a huge mess..." Fabulous. I'll have to run home at lunch and get that taken care of.
I pick up and drop off children to various locales and decide that I have approximately 40 minutes until I need to be at work...I will return home and clean up dog mess and get it out of the way. More rushing.
I make it and am able to slip some toast in the toaster for my ride to work. I'm already exhausted and the day has barely begun. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, toast and my cell rings...
I see who the caller is. Everything is in perspective now. It wasn't the call I was expecting, it was good news, sort of. No funeral to attend just yet. Maybe it's not such a bad morning...
Today I'm thankful for those people, places and things that make me frazzled and rushing.
It was one of those days from the very moment the alarm started buzzing...actually, it began at 3:30 a.m. when I was startled awake from a nice, deep sleep by my sweet son who has a nasty sore throat and was crying. Time for some meds. I'm one of those that has a hard time going back to sleep, but I gave it a shot.
Today was an early departure day for me because of piano lessons and dropping kids off for bible club. Had to get ready and around by 6:45. I was rushed, frazzled. Jay is texting, kids are texting, another parent is texting. Yes, I'm coming.
Next text from Madolyn, who stayed at home to get ready while I went to get someone, "dog made a huge mess..." Fabulous. I'll have to run home at lunch and get that taken care of.
I pick up and drop off children to various locales and decide that I have approximately 40 minutes until I need to be at work...I will return home and clean up dog mess and get it out of the way. More rushing.
I make it and am able to slip some toast in the toaster for my ride to work. I'm already exhausted and the day has barely begun. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, toast and my cell rings...
I see who the caller is. Everything is in perspective now. It wasn't the call I was expecting, it was good news, sort of. No funeral to attend just yet. Maybe it's not such a bad morning...
Today I'm thankful for those people, places and things that make me frazzled and rushing.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Silly dogs
I love our dog Hank the Tank II, I really do, but we truly believe that he is the dumbest Labrador we have ever owned. Maybe that is what makes him so doggone lovable, I don't know.
He has no regard for personal space. I believe his motto to be: "The closer, the better." If he can find a way to get on you, he will. He doesn't mind being crowded, but you might have to move over.
He absolutely loves Lane and will do just about anything to be right by his side. Every night when it's time for Lane to go to bed, we tell Hank to "go to bed" and he saunters into Lane's room and gets situated on his bed. His usual MO is to wait until Lane is sound asleep and then sneak out to the living room and get on the couch.
Last week, Lane added an addendum to our bedtime prayer, "Please let Hank stay in bed with me all night." And unlike many adults who pray (myself included), Lane fully believed his prayer would be answered...and it was. The next evening Jay commented on the fact that when he checked on Lane before he left for work, Hank was still in there and that NEVER happens. I then told him about Lane's little plea. How 'bout that?
Fast forward a few nights. Hank had not continued this pattern of behavior and Lane repeated the simple prayer. And just like magic (ha), Hank stayed in bed all night with him. From now on, I expect the phrase "please let Hank stay in bed all night with me" to be attached to our closing words, "in your name we pray, Amen."
The other night I took the golf cart to my parent's house, and Zippy, my parent's dog, decided she wanted to ride back to my house so she hopped on. Hank the Tank didn't like Zip riding with me and there was a ruckus...until Hank solved the problem. He jumped up on the seat next to me and we all rode home together.
He has no regard for personal space. I believe his motto to be: "The closer, the better." If he can find a way to get on you, he will. He doesn't mind being crowded, but you might have to move over.
He absolutely loves Lane and will do just about anything to be right by his side. Every night when it's time for Lane to go to bed, we tell Hank to "go to bed" and he saunters into Lane's room and gets situated on his bed. His usual MO is to wait until Lane is sound asleep and then sneak out to the living room and get on the couch.
Last week, Lane added an addendum to our bedtime prayer, "Please let Hank stay in bed with me all night." And unlike many adults who pray (myself included), Lane fully believed his prayer would be answered...and it was. The next evening Jay commented on the fact that when he checked on Lane before he left for work, Hank was still in there and that NEVER happens. I then told him about Lane's little plea. How 'bout that?
Fast forward a few nights. Hank had not continued this pattern of behavior and Lane repeated the simple prayer. And just like magic (ha), Hank stayed in bed all night with him. From now on, I expect the phrase "please let Hank stay in bed all night with me" to be attached to our closing words, "in your name we pray, Amen."
The other night I took the golf cart to my parent's house, and Zippy, my parent's dog, decided she wanted to ride back to my house so she hopped on. Hank the Tank didn't like Zip riding with me and there was a ruckus...until Hank solved the problem. He jumped up on the seat next to me and we all rode home together.
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| Can you tell they're related? |
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Friday - Bazaar Stuff
Tomorrow is the __(insert # here;)__ Annual Willow Creek CP Church Bazaar. As always we will be serving chili or vegetable soup, chicken or ham sandwich (on white or wheat), drinks and dessert for $6 beginning at 11:00, ending around 6:00. The doors will open at 8:00, and folks, it would be really nice if you could wait until 8:00...
I've been a knitting fool so that's my contribution this year. Last night I decided (no time like NOW) I better 'block' this toddler scarf I knitted about six weeks ago. It curls real bad, but is soooo cute and has a matching hat. The Yarn Studio gal told me what to do, using damp towels, etc. I dug out the scarf, got a towel and put it down on the counter. I got it wet and spread out the scarf, covering it back up with the damp towel. Went to bed.
Sweet little Josie must really, really like this cute little scarf because right after I finished knitting it, she dug it out (not kidding) of a box and had it in the living room...creating one snag, which I fixed. Some time early this morning (Jay said it was still in place when he left for work) I guess she wanted to try it on again and she got the towel and the scarf off the counter and made two VERY large snags in the scarf. I wanted to hurt the sweet feline, but I did not. I cannot tell you how long that simple-looking scarf took because of the tiny size of the yarn. Ahh! I am going to try to repair the snags.
I smoothed the scarf out between the damp towel and put it in my truck. SURELY, she will not find that scarf in there. Sweet little kitty.
So come on out to the Community Center in Martinsville tomorrow, eat lunch or supper and shop around. You may or may not see that cute little scarf...because it may be wrapped around my sweet Josie's neck.
I've been a knitting fool so that's my contribution this year. Last night I decided (no time like NOW) I better 'block' this toddler scarf I knitted about six weeks ago. It curls real bad, but is soooo cute and has a matching hat. The Yarn Studio gal told me what to do, using damp towels, etc. I dug out the scarf, got a towel and put it down on the counter. I got it wet and spread out the scarf, covering it back up with the damp towel. Went to bed.
Sweet little Josie must really, really like this cute little scarf because right after I finished knitting it, she dug it out (not kidding) of a box and had it in the living room...creating one snag, which I fixed. Some time early this morning (Jay said it was still in place when he left for work) I guess she wanted to try it on again and she got the towel and the scarf off the counter and made two VERY large snags in the scarf. I wanted to hurt the sweet feline, but I did not. I cannot tell you how long that simple-looking scarf took because of the tiny size of the yarn. Ahh! I am going to try to repair the snags.
I smoothed the scarf out between the damp towel and put it in my truck. SURELY, she will not find that scarf in there. Sweet little kitty.
So come on out to the Community Center in Martinsville tomorrow, eat lunch or supper and shop around. You may or may not see that cute little scarf...because it may be wrapped around my sweet Josie's neck.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Snap...I should've listened.
Last Friday, I took the afternoon off work to help my brother and dad with the farming. I enjoy helping out every now and then. It's fun for me because it's not how I earn my living. I take it seriously because it is important, but there isn't a whole lot of pressure on me...most of the time.
I started my afternoon out by taking a load of beans to town in the blue grain truck. I had never driven to the grain elevator in town though. The Quackdaddy gave me one piece of advice, and he said it two separate times, "When you get to the hill by the railroad tracks, shift down into second, you cannot get up the hill in third." Okay, simple enough.
And so Lane, Hank the Tank and I head to town in the blue grain truck. We make the first go-round without incident. I did a little bit of grinding at the four-way stop (and wouldn't you know the mayor was watching me:) and nearly got off the scales at the elevator (which isn't major, I would've just had to back up and re-aligned myself), but all in all, it went well. I returned to the field feeling pretty good about things so far.
I like to get really good at one thing before moving onto something else. I was pretty comfortable driving Old Blue, and that is what I'd prefer to stick with. On Columbus Day when I helped out a little, my brother tried to get me to drive the combine and I refused. No thank you...I'm not about to screw up something like that. I got away with it until last Friday.
As soon as I returned from my first trip, my brother told me he needed to meet some guy about a piece of equipment, I would have to run the combine. Uhh, no, I don't think so. Oh, yes, you can do it; Sherri (his wife) can do it. Peer pressure. Snap. All right, I told him, but if you show me and I'm not comfortable, I'm not doing it. End of story. We hop on the combine.
"It's just like mowing your yard," he says. And basically that is a true statement, only I cannot mow my yard because I cannot operate that silly zero-turn mower, but I knew what he meant. Back and forth, up and down the rows. In a sense, you are 'mowing' it down. I didn't even have to worry about lining up the head in the corn rows, beans are easier. He shows me this and that and says, "I'll be back in about 30 minutes. Oh, you shouldn't get full, but if you do, just dump it." Okay, yeah...
So off he goes and there I go. My brother's combine is not one of the fancier machines, but it still has a lot of gadgets, buttons and lights. I began to wonder...how will I know if the hopper is full? I text Jay. "Will a light or buzzer come on when I'm full?" "No." And that was that. So I'm kind of starting to panic a little. I keep looking in my side mirrors. Nothing is spewing out over the edge...so far so good. I keep going.
Pretty soon Lane puts Hank in the grain truck and motions that he wants to ride with me. He gets in and sits down and I throw out the question, "How do I know if I'm full?" My nine-year-old is pretty cute and sometimes a stinker, but he looks at me like I'm an idiot, points to the back glass and says, "You look out the window." Lo and behold, there was a window right behind me with a perfect view of the hopper. The next look was his bright, wide eyes..."Mom, we're full." Alrighty then.
I stop. I have no idea how to turn on the auger and I'm pretty sure I don't want to even try it. I decide it has been close to 30 minutes and I shut everything down. We get out and wait a few minutes, Mark shows up and all is well. He points me to his truck and the grain wagon and says, "Take that to the elevator." (Oh, you are kidding me. Why can't I just stick with the blue truck?!)
You would think one might be more comfortable driving a truck similar to their own and pulling a little wagon than driving an old, hard-to-shift grain truck...nope. We made it there and back without major incident, but it was a slow process. The max speed with the wagon was about 20 mph for me because I didn't like the shaking. We return and I vow not to make that trip again. Lane agrees. I tell him to hurry up, get Hank and get in Old Blue before Mark changes his mind...and we head back to town.
I'm finally back in my comfort zone. My dog is resting comfortably on my lap and my little man is next to me practicing his new-found talent: the snap. As soon as we got into the city limits, a PT cruiser from out of state got behind me. I was hoping they would just pass me, but that didn't happen.
By the time we approach the railroad tracks, there are six cars piled up behind me and that PT cruiser is clinging to my backend. To shift down into second, you have to just about stop. No joke. I think it needs to be coasting along at about 5mph. I'm looking at that line of cars thinking, I can't stop, they'll rear-end me...and so I ignored the wise words of the Quackdaddy and told Lane to hang on, we were going to try the hill in third. (Like I'm some stunt driver in a movie or something.) And we go...until we go no more.
Ahhh, SNAP. Halfway up that hill, we died. Now, there's a pit-in-the-gut feeling. I looked in my mirror and thought, if I try to do anything, I'm going to start a chain reaction of front-to-back damage on six cars starting with the PT Cruiser RIGHT ON MY REAR END. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at things, some friends of mine happened to be unloading groceries at that very moment (they live on that hill), they turned to look at me and I heard the mom say "It's Sarah!" I yell out to one of the older boys to wave the cars around me and he does. Thankfully, they passed without collision, I started Old Blue up and away we went.
But first I looked at Lane and said, "Guess I should've listened to Grandpa." I suppose you're never too old to listen to your parents, huh?
As a sidenote to this story, the Quackdaddy bought Old Blue from a family member after "John" died. I kid you not, I could hear his laugh when I stopped dead on that hill. If you knew "John," you know the laugh I'm talking about...
I started my afternoon out by taking a load of beans to town in the blue grain truck. I had never driven to the grain elevator in town though. The Quackdaddy gave me one piece of advice, and he said it two separate times, "When you get to the hill by the railroad tracks, shift down into second, you cannot get up the hill in third." Okay, simple enough.
And so Lane, Hank the Tank and I head to town in the blue grain truck. We make the first go-round without incident. I did a little bit of grinding at the four-way stop (and wouldn't you know the mayor was watching me:) and nearly got off the scales at the elevator (which isn't major, I would've just had to back up and re-aligned myself), but all in all, it went well. I returned to the field feeling pretty good about things so far.
I like to get really good at one thing before moving onto something else. I was pretty comfortable driving Old Blue, and that is what I'd prefer to stick with. On Columbus Day when I helped out a little, my brother tried to get me to drive the combine and I refused. No thank you...I'm not about to screw up something like that. I got away with it until last Friday.
As soon as I returned from my first trip, my brother told me he needed to meet some guy about a piece of equipment, I would have to run the combine. Uhh, no, I don't think so. Oh, yes, you can do it; Sherri (his wife) can do it. Peer pressure. Snap. All right, I told him, but if you show me and I'm not comfortable, I'm not doing it. End of story. We hop on the combine.
"It's just like mowing your yard," he says. And basically that is a true statement, only I cannot mow my yard because I cannot operate that silly zero-turn mower, but I knew what he meant. Back and forth, up and down the rows. In a sense, you are 'mowing' it down. I didn't even have to worry about lining up the head in the corn rows, beans are easier. He shows me this and that and says, "I'll be back in about 30 minutes. Oh, you shouldn't get full, but if you do, just dump it." Okay, yeah...
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| Actual evidence of my work = my view behind the wheel. |
Pretty soon Lane puts Hank in the grain truck and motions that he wants to ride with me. He gets in and sits down and I throw out the question, "How do I know if I'm full?" My nine-year-old is pretty cute and sometimes a stinker, but he looks at me like I'm an idiot, points to the back glass and says, "You look out the window." Lo and behold, there was a window right behind me with a perfect view of the hopper. The next look was his bright, wide eyes..."Mom, we're full." Alrighty then.
I stop. I have no idea how to turn on the auger and I'm pretty sure I don't want to even try it. I decide it has been close to 30 minutes and I shut everything down. We get out and wait a few minutes, Mark shows up and all is well. He points me to his truck and the grain wagon and says, "Take that to the elevator." (Oh, you are kidding me. Why can't I just stick with the blue truck?!)
You would think one might be more comfortable driving a truck similar to their own and pulling a little wagon than driving an old, hard-to-shift grain truck...nope. We made it there and back without major incident, but it was a slow process. The max speed with the wagon was about 20 mph for me because I didn't like the shaking. We return and I vow not to make that trip again. Lane agrees. I tell him to hurry up, get Hank and get in Old Blue before Mark changes his mind...and we head back to town.
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| Do you think the snapping is bothering Hank? |
By the time we approach the railroad tracks, there are six cars piled up behind me and that PT cruiser is clinging to my backend. To shift down into second, you have to just about stop. No joke. I think it needs to be coasting along at about 5mph. I'm looking at that line of cars thinking, I can't stop, they'll rear-end me...and so I ignored the wise words of the Quackdaddy and told Lane to hang on, we were going to try the hill in third. (Like I'm some stunt driver in a movie or something.) And we go...until we go no more.
Ahhh, SNAP. Halfway up that hill, we died. Now, there's a pit-in-the-gut feeling. I looked in my mirror and thought, if I try to do anything, I'm going to start a chain reaction of front-to-back damage on six cars starting with the PT Cruiser RIGHT ON MY REAR END. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at things, some friends of mine happened to be unloading groceries at that very moment (they live on that hill), they turned to look at me and I heard the mom say "It's Sarah!" I yell out to one of the older boys to wave the cars around me and he does. Thankfully, they passed without collision, I started Old Blue up and away we went.
But first I looked at Lane and said, "Guess I should've listened to Grandpa." I suppose you're never too old to listen to your parents, huh?
As a sidenote to this story, the Quackdaddy bought Old Blue from a family member after "John" died. I kid you not, I could hear his laugh when I stopped dead on that hill. If you knew "John," you know the laugh I'm talking about...
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
More of him, less of me.
He must become greater; I must become less. John 3:30 (NIV)
This past weekend, Madolyn, Grace and I spent the night down in Fairfield. The Varsity Volleyball team had an all-day twelve-team tournament and since the girls are the managers, I went along. There are a couple churches in Fairfield from our denomination and presbytery and we have lots of 'church' friends down there, so we decided to spend the night after the tournament and go to church the next morning.
A good friend preaches at one of the churches down there, but as luck would have it, he and his family were going out of town. That was one of the main reasons I wanted to go. Bummer. They had someone coming in to do the message: a 'kid' from camp that had been their summer youth minister and was attending college at our university in Tennessee. He is a great, funny young man so I was okay with missing the 'real deal' this time.
He started out by showing a video from a song he liked and the one image that caught my attention was the one above. I LOVED IT. Immediately, I thought of two things: That would be a great t-shirt, and I must get that up on our Youth Chalk Wall this week!
After the video played, Holton made a statement like this, "One of my favorite things about this video was the picture of the cross with the greater than sign and the 'I'. Wouldn't that make a great t-shirt?" Ahh, I could not believe he just said that! I even whispered to Mad, "Hey, that's what I was thinking!"
So I'm on Facebook today and I see a video that a friend and Cardinal fan 'liked' and I clicked on it. At the top of the page, it says "Increase, John 3:30." Do you notice anything familiar about that? The scripture was the exact same as the one referenced in the image from the video I saw on Sunday.
Do you think that maybe God wants me to take John 3:30 to heart...that maybe there is a reason I keep seeing THAT scripture text? Hmm....
I then proceeded to play the link about Adam Wainwright. Wow, what a great story, a positive message from someone many might consider a super star. Although few and far between, there are famous Christians out there. It's great to see those with strong faith share their very personal stories.
If you have five minutes to spare, watch this video. Regardless of whether you're a Cardinal fan (although, honestly, how can you not be?), this guy is awesome - and not because he's a famous baseball player either.
http://theincrease.org/store/videos/adam-wainwright-my-story.html
This past weekend, Madolyn, Grace and I spent the night down in Fairfield. The Varsity Volleyball team had an all-day twelve-team tournament and since the girls are the managers, I went along. There are a couple churches in Fairfield from our denomination and presbytery and we have lots of 'church' friends down there, so we decided to spend the night after the tournament and go to church the next morning.
A good friend preaches at one of the churches down there, but as luck would have it, he and his family were going out of town. That was one of the main reasons I wanted to go. Bummer. They had someone coming in to do the message: a 'kid' from camp that had been their summer youth minister and was attending college at our university in Tennessee. He is a great, funny young man so I was okay with missing the 'real deal' this time.
He started out by showing a video from a song he liked and the one image that caught my attention was the one above. I LOVED IT. Immediately, I thought of two things: That would be a great t-shirt, and I must get that up on our Youth Chalk Wall this week!
After the video played, Holton made a statement like this, "One of my favorite things about this video was the picture of the cross with the greater than sign and the 'I'. Wouldn't that make a great t-shirt?" Ahh, I could not believe he just said that! I even whispered to Mad, "Hey, that's what I was thinking!"
So I'm on Facebook today and I see a video that a friend and Cardinal fan 'liked' and I clicked on it. At the top of the page, it says "Increase, John 3:30." Do you notice anything familiar about that? The scripture was the exact same as the one referenced in the image from the video I saw on Sunday.
Do you think that maybe God wants me to take John 3:30 to heart...that maybe there is a reason I keep seeing THAT scripture text? Hmm....
I then proceeded to play the link about Adam Wainwright. Wow, what a great story, a positive message from someone many might consider a super star. Although few and far between, there are famous Christians out there. It's great to see those with strong faith share their very personal stories.
If you have five minutes to spare, watch this video. Regardless of whether you're a Cardinal fan (although, honestly, how can you not be?), this guy is awesome - and not because he's a famous baseball player either.
http://theincrease.org/store/videos/adam-wainwright-my-story.html
Monday, October 21, 2013
Youth Deer Season 2013
Last weekend was youth deer season. Poor Jay had to work, and the kids couldn't decide if they wanted to go, but by Sunday night, they were both itchin' to get to the woods. They have no faith in their mother, so they spent the night with the Quacker's and went out first thing in the morning with Grandpa.
Monday morning came (Columbus day), I got my first text at 6:00 a.m. from Madolyn telling me they were in position. The second text came a few minutes later, "grandpa won't let me put more than one shell in the gun." My reply: "Do what grandpa says, don't complain." The next thing I hear is my cell phone ringing, "We shot a deer! Both of us shot the same one." "What?" "Yeah, we both shot the same one." I threw my clothes on and headed out the door.
I made it to the hunting site and saw the crew. They were beaming. Honestly, I can't tell you who was the most excited out of all of them...Grandpa, Lane or Madolyn. They each were talking a mile a minute, telling their version of events. Fortunately, the kids weren't fighting over who shot it. And how could they? Simple math made it clear that one person did not fire all the shots that made their way into that doe.
We loaded up and went back to the Quacker's for pancakes to celebrate. It was now Grandma's turn to hear the story. I took a couple pictures of my dad telling the tale. He was very animated (no surprise, right) and couldn't keep from laughing. Madolyn, the sassy 13-year-old, was butting in, telling her side of the story, and Lane just kept pacing and giggling. It was a hoot.
In a nutshell, they were set up in position and the Quack was giving hunting tips...as Madolyn says, he would not quit talking. All of a sudden she sees four deer heading right towards them, so she bumps him and tells him to be quiet (in a sweet tone, I'm sure). Now, here is the part that is so typical of any hunt I've ever been on...no one was ready. One gun was on the ground and grandpa was holding the other one.
In slow-mo, they each pick up their respective guns and aim. On the count of the Quackdaddy's three (although I'm told they both shot on two), they pulled the trigger...aiming at the same deer...of course. Lane's blast blew him off his seat on a five-gallon bucket. Remember first off I told you that Mad was upset to only be allowed one slug at a time? When I asked her how it was that she shot four slugs into this poor deer, she said, "Grandpa just kept handing me shells." Ah-ha. (I shook my head, in all my years of hunting, I could shoot and reload as many shells as I had at my fingertips. She gets it honest - we had the same guide.)
I won't go into the gory details, but how my kids shot so many slugs into this deer and never managed to bust the gut or butt is beyond me. Thankfully, the deer was in good enough condition to take to the locker for processing. I will say that although we enjoy the sport aspect of hunting, we also eat the meat. We feel like it goes hand-in-hand. Either you eat it or donate it. It will not go to waste.
Which reminds me, our local chapter of Farmers & Hunters Feeding the Hungry will pay for processing at a few area meat lockers if you are willing to donate your game. Just ask at your locker if they participate in the program. (I know the locker service in Martinsville does.)
We went on about our day, and Madolyn decided that she wanted to go hunting that afternoon, and since Lane tagged the deer, she still had a tag. Three of my nieces also wanted to go, so off we went to Grandma Great's pond. I put everyone in a safe position and got myself situated. It was a beautiful evening. There is something about sitting in the woods and just listening that is therapeutic. It is so peaceful...until the person behind you shoots a slug. Yikes, I was not expecting that first shot from my niece, but somehow managed to stay upright.
The kids were very good and we did see a few deer and have a couple shots. It wasn't necessarily a successful hunt, but at least we saw something. I had to laugh though because at one point, I looked around at our group and took note of a few things that might not be listed in a guide to successful hunting...The older girls were texting non-stop (me too, just a little); the younger two were digging in the dirt and throwing nuts at each other, in silence, of course; I was knitting a washcloth; and one of my nieces brought along a tall, steaming cup of coffee. I'm still shocked that a handful of deer came within 50 yards of us...
Monday morning came (Columbus day), I got my first text at 6:00 a.m. from Madolyn telling me they were in position. The second text came a few minutes later, "grandpa won't let me put more than one shell in the gun." My reply: "Do what grandpa says, don't complain." The next thing I hear is my cell phone ringing, "We shot a deer! Both of us shot the same one." "What?" "Yeah, we both shot the same one." I threw my clothes on and headed out the door.
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| Recap |
In a nutshell, they were set up in position and the Quack was giving hunting tips...as Madolyn says, he would not quit talking. All of a sudden she sees four deer heading right towards them, so she bumps him and tells him to be quiet (in a sweet tone, I'm sure). Now, here is the part that is so typical of any hunt I've ever been on...no one was ready. One gun was on the ground and grandpa was holding the other one.
In slow-mo, they each pick up their respective guns and aim. On the count of the Quackdaddy's three (although I'm told they both shot on two), they pulled the trigger...aiming at the same deer...of course. Lane's blast blew him off his seat on a five-gallon bucket. Remember first off I told you that Mad was upset to only be allowed one slug at a time? When I asked her how it was that she shot four slugs into this poor deer, she said, "Grandpa just kept handing me shells." Ah-ha. (I shook my head, in all my years of hunting, I could shoot and reload as many shells as I had at my fingertips. She gets it honest - we had the same guide.)
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| This was the kindest photo... |
Which reminds me, our local chapter of Farmers & Hunters Feeding the Hungry will pay for processing at a few area meat lockers if you are willing to donate your game. Just ask at your locker if they participate in the program. (I know the locker service in Martinsville does.)
We went on about our day, and Madolyn decided that she wanted to go hunting that afternoon, and since Lane tagged the deer, she still had a tag. Three of my nieces also wanted to go, so off we went to Grandma Great's pond. I put everyone in a safe position and got myself situated. It was a beautiful evening. There is something about sitting in the woods and just listening that is therapeutic. It is so peaceful...until the person behind you shoots a slug. Yikes, I was not expecting that first shot from my niece, but somehow managed to stay upright.
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| Hey, I'm wearing my orange. |
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Weekend Fun
If you're out and about in Martinsville this weekend, here are a couple things going on...
Friday night, the Bluestreaks play football against Cerro Gordo at home, 7:00 p.m. If you haven't been to a game yet to sit in the new bleachers on the WEST side of the field, here is your chance.
Saturday evening, save the dishes and time in the kitchen and stop in at the community center to enjoy a delicious bowl of soup, dessert and drink for $5. You can also taste-test soups for an extra fee. There will be a variety of soups available for you to choose from. This soup supper is hosted by the Martinsville on the Move Education Committee.
The same committee is raffling off the cutest golf cart ever - a Custom PT Cruiser Golf Cart. It is used, but in top-quality condition, along with all new batteries. This golf cart is decked out with all the extra's and is ready for the road (with the local permits, of course). It has a radio, a/c, cooler, golf club cleaner, etc.
For a donation of $25 you receive one chance to win it. It will be given away at the Hometown Christmas Celebration on December 14 (don't have to be present to win). Get your tickets at Accents, The Mustard Seed, or from a member of the Education Committee.
100% of your donation (from both the raffle and soup supper) will be used by the Education Committee to assist teachers with special education projects, scholarships, and education programs for students and members of the Martinsville Community School District.
Finish your Saturday night off with a frightening walk through the Haunted Barn at the Martinsville Fairgrounds Beef Barn sponsored by the Martinsville Fire Protection District and the Ladies Auxiliary. Tickets for the haunted barn are $5. Children under 10 require an adult. Use the southeast gate for entrance and parking.
Who says there's never anything to do in little 'ole Martinsville on a Saturday night?
Friday night, the Bluestreaks play football against Cerro Gordo at home, 7:00 p.m. If you haven't been to a game yet to sit in the new bleachers on the WEST side of the field, here is your chance.
Saturday evening, save the dishes and time in the kitchen and stop in at the community center to enjoy a delicious bowl of soup, dessert and drink for $5. You can also taste-test soups for an extra fee. There will be a variety of soups available for you to choose from. This soup supper is hosted by the Martinsville on the Move Education Committee.
The same committee is raffling off the cutest golf cart ever - a Custom PT Cruiser Golf Cart. It is used, but in top-quality condition, along with all new batteries. This golf cart is decked out with all the extra's and is ready for the road (with the local permits, of course). It has a radio, a/c, cooler, golf club cleaner, etc.
For a donation of $25 you receive one chance to win it. It will be given away at the Hometown Christmas Celebration on December 14 (don't have to be present to win). Get your tickets at Accents, The Mustard Seed, or from a member of the Education Committee.
100% of your donation (from both the raffle and soup supper) will be used by the Education Committee to assist teachers with special education projects, scholarships, and education programs for students and members of the Martinsville Community School District.
Finish your Saturday night off with a frightening walk through the Haunted Barn at the Martinsville Fairgrounds Beef Barn sponsored by the Martinsville Fire Protection District and the Ladies Auxiliary. Tickets for the haunted barn are $5. Children under 10 require an adult. Use the southeast gate for entrance and parking.
Who says there's never anything to do in little 'ole Martinsville on a Saturday night?
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
It was a dad-type of day
Thanks to Christopher Columbus, Monday was a holiday for me and the kiddos. When Jay is working a turnaround, a day off comes once every 20 days and he has a few more before that will happen. This past weekend was youth shotgun deer season, and both of our kids decided to go. Although I had offered to take them out, they went Monday morning with the Quackdaddy. (I'll have another post about that.) Apparently they think mom's can't go hunting...
After helping gut the deer and then taking it to the locker for processing, Quackmamma and I drove straight to my brother's house to get my kids. We were just in time to help transfer equipment. I got in a grain truck and headed over to a field by my house. On my way over, I got a call from the vet telling me he could be at our house in 30 minutes to fix the rectal prolapse on a baby pig, would I be home to help...sure.
I dropped the grain truck off, got back into my truck with Madolyn and went to our house to unload our stuff. As soon as I finished that, the vet showed up. He took a look at Madolyn and said, "We'll probably need her help too." Let me digress...when Jay asked me earlier if I would be around when the vet came by to look at that pig, I said sure. I can show him the pig and write the check, no problem. Jay did not mention 'helping' in the process. Here we go.
I'm standing there watching the vet 'suit' up, wondering if I too should be changing my clothes or covering myself a little better. But there was no time. We follow the doc into the pen, I show him the suffering piglet (poor pig), and he tells us to hold the pig down while he does his thing. (Have you ever held down a pig?) He points me to the front of the pig and Madolyn to the rear and I jump on. Yeah, almost literally.
I tell Madolyn here is her chance to see some veterinary medicine in action (she is thinking she would like to do that) and the doc mentions something about the procedure, and I say, "We just gutted a deer" to which he replied, "Oh, well, you should be all right then." Uh-huh, we'll be all right. I used every ounce of energy and strength I had, but that little fella didn't get up. He finished the procedure and told us we had to keep him segregated for a week. More fun, trying to get the three free-roaming baby boys back into the other pen. They are trained to go in THAT pen, not the one we wanted them in. Ahhh.
I went inside for the first time since I jumped out of bed for the deer and hand-washed a TON of dishes (dishwasher was malfunctioning). Headed out to drive the grain truck. Combine needed tweaking so I helped the Quacks with the feed wagon, ran out of gas on the mule (not the animal, obviously) and drove to town with gas cans.
I ate lunch at the Quackers and head to elevator with a load of soybeans. That was successful, minus some helpful hints from Cody at the elevator, and I returned to the field. It was time to relocate equipment, so I drove the grain truck on to another field and came back home just in time to take the kids back out to the woods hunting. Lane tagged the deer that the two of them shot, so Madolyn could still tag a deer and so could my three nieces.
Over the river and through the woods to Grandma Great's house we go. We found our positions in the woods and waited. Shots were fired but no deer taken (and honestly, I'm not sure I had it in me to deal with another deer). At dark, we loaded up the crew and headed home. I was exhausted and filthy. I was still wearing the old blue jeans and sweatshirt I had put on first thing that morning...There was blood on me from the deer, poo and goo from the pig and the smell of gasoline permeated around me. I needed a shower before anything else occurred.
As I reflected on my day, I decided maybe being a dad is a little tougher than I thought. If Jay had been around, I might have been able to knit all day ;) We sure missed him and we know that he would have rather been with us than at work, but that is just how it goes sometimes.
Dad got an earful when he got home...hearing about our day. Within minutes of me complaining about the dishwasher not working, he had repaired a loose connection and it was fixed. He is definitely my hero.
After helping gut the deer and then taking it to the locker for processing, Quackmamma and I drove straight to my brother's house to get my kids. We were just in time to help transfer equipment. I got in a grain truck and headed over to a field by my house. On my way over, I got a call from the vet telling me he could be at our house in 30 minutes to fix the rectal prolapse on a baby pig, would I be home to help...sure.
I dropped the grain truck off, got back into my truck with Madolyn and went to our house to unload our stuff. As soon as I finished that, the vet showed up. He took a look at Madolyn and said, "We'll probably need her help too." Let me digress...when Jay asked me earlier if I would be around when the vet came by to look at that pig, I said sure. I can show him the pig and write the check, no problem. Jay did not mention 'helping' in the process. Here we go.
I'm standing there watching the vet 'suit' up, wondering if I too should be changing my clothes or covering myself a little better. But there was no time. We follow the doc into the pen, I show him the suffering piglet (poor pig), and he tells us to hold the pig down while he does his thing. (Have you ever held down a pig?) He points me to the front of the pig and Madolyn to the rear and I jump on. Yeah, almost literally.
I tell Madolyn here is her chance to see some veterinary medicine in action (she is thinking she would like to do that) and the doc mentions something about the procedure, and I say, "We just gutted a deer" to which he replied, "Oh, well, you should be all right then." Uh-huh, we'll be all right. I used every ounce of energy and strength I had, but that little fella didn't get up. He finished the procedure and told us we had to keep him segregated for a week. More fun, trying to get the three free-roaming baby boys back into the other pen. They are trained to go in THAT pen, not the one we wanted them in. Ahhh.
I went inside for the first time since I jumped out of bed for the deer and hand-washed a TON of dishes (dishwasher was malfunctioning). Headed out to drive the grain truck. Combine needed tweaking so I helped the Quacks with the feed wagon, ran out of gas on the mule (not the animal, obviously) and drove to town with gas cans.
I ate lunch at the Quackers and head to elevator with a load of soybeans. That was successful, minus some helpful hints from Cody at the elevator, and I returned to the field. It was time to relocate equipment, so I drove the grain truck on to another field and came back home just in time to take the kids back out to the woods hunting. Lane tagged the deer that the two of them shot, so Madolyn could still tag a deer and so could my three nieces.
Over the river and through the woods to Grandma Great's house we go. We found our positions in the woods and waited. Shots were fired but no deer taken (and honestly, I'm not sure I had it in me to deal with another deer). At dark, we loaded up the crew and headed home. I was exhausted and filthy. I was still wearing the old blue jeans and sweatshirt I had put on first thing that morning...There was blood on me from the deer, poo and goo from the pig and the smell of gasoline permeated around me. I needed a shower before anything else occurred.
As I reflected on my day, I decided maybe being a dad is a little tougher than I thought. If Jay had been around, I might have been able to knit all day ;) We sure missed him and we know that he would have rather been with us than at work, but that is just how it goes sometimes.
Dad got an earful when he got home...hearing about our day. Within minutes of me complaining about the dishwasher not working, he had repaired a loose connection and it was fixed. He is definitely my hero.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Best Eats Ever
By now you should know that a large portion of my life revolves around food, what we're going to eat, where we're going to eat it, etc. And when I find something I really like, I'm willing to do about anything to get it every now and then...even if that means driving 45 miles or more.
Last Friday night, Madolyn and I made the trip south for the best tacos on the planet. I know you may think I exaggerate, but seriously, these are really The. Best. Tacos. Ever. On our way home, just after scarfing down two of those treasures, I started thinking about some of my favorite places to eat and who has the best_____. Here is the short list I came up with:
Tacos - (Of course, I had to begin here) The best tacos this side of heaven are found in a not-so-nice-looking-tavern in Lawrenceville, Illinois. The name of this little gem is Syd's. They serve these juicy, flavored-filled, shredded-beef tacos with a fried soft shell every Wednesday and Friday evening from 5-10 pm. They are pretty good sized, so two is just enough and three will stuff you. (I have been known to eat four a time or two.) They literally make my mouth water, and as long as they are serving tacos at Syd's, every few months, I will make the 90-mile round-trip to get some. Last week, we picked up 22 to go. Yes, they are that good.
Pizza - If you live in central or southern Illinois and you don't like Monical's Pizza, well, you need to move on somewhere else. Monical's Pizza is above-all the best pizza around, and the restaurant in Robinson cannot be beat. A couple other Monical's are close in quality, but Robinson remains my favorite. They also carry Pepsi products, which is a plus. I love going down to Monical's on a wintry night with friends and sitting around the table stuffing our bellies. When my aunt and cousins from Michigan come down, we have to make the trip to Monical's, they love it too!
Fried Catfish - Five years ago I would have told you that Earl's in West Union was the best fried catfish (that was the only place I would eat it), but I have since seen the light. A couple years ago on one of our excursions to Southern Illinois, we stumbled upon the E-town River Restaurant in Elizabethtown, IL. There is no match to that fried catfish, or at least none that I have found. It is also mouth-watering and worth the long trek south. In a few weeks, we hope to be making that catfish run. It has been far too long. Yes, I think I'm starting to salivate.
Burgers - How can I live five miles from Moonshine, Illinois, and not peg them with the best hamburger around? You're right, I can't. Even though it is nearly impossible to enjoy one of those plump, juicy burgers these days because of that little secret getting out, they are still the best burgers around. It's a combination of atmosphere and company that make them special. I like them to go because the grease from the burger soaks into the bun. Sounds gross, I know, but it's sooo good.
Some Favorite Has-Been's
Hen House - I would be remiss if I didn't mention the Hen House. The Hen House was located on the north side of the overpass north of Martinsville. As a child, it did not matter what I ate at the Hen House, it was the best. I remember their slightly toasted buttery buns on juicy, thick hamburgers, and I also remember very vividly their thick french toast. Oh, yeah, they had a great little gift shop too. I have lots of good memories hanging out there after Bluestreak ball games. (How I wish we had a place like that in town now.)
The Feed Bag - I may not be able to recall anything in particular that I loved to eat at the Feed Bag in Mazon, Illinois, I probably remember it most because of good memories. Mazon is where my parents met and where my grandparents lived until they retired and moved to south Texas. I made many trips to the big city of Mazon, which included stops at the Feed Bag. Mazon is a very small town, the Feed Bag was the place to be. And what a great name, huh?
The Tastee Freeze - Growing up, the place to go locally for ice cream was The Tastee Freeze in Casey. (We also called it Bongo Bob's Burger Barn.) Much like Dairy Queen, they served food, and their french fries were the best before McDonald's fries were so popular. I love chocolate ice cream and Bongo Bob's had some good chocolate ice cream. Ahhh...
I know there are probably many good joints I'm forgetting. I was thinking about places that weren't necessarily the best, but popular during my childhood. I may have to save that for another day. I'm getting pretty hungry, and hey, it's Friday :)
Last Friday night, Madolyn and I made the trip south for the best tacos on the planet. I know you may think I exaggerate, but seriously, these are really The. Best. Tacos. Ever. On our way home, just after scarfing down two of those treasures, I started thinking about some of my favorite places to eat and who has the best_____. Here is the short list I came up with:
Tacos - (Of course, I had to begin here) The best tacos this side of heaven are found in a not-so-nice-looking-tavern in Lawrenceville, Illinois. The name of this little gem is Syd's. They serve these juicy, flavored-filled, shredded-beef tacos with a fried soft shell every Wednesday and Friday evening from 5-10 pm. They are pretty good sized, so two is just enough and three will stuff you. (I have been known to eat four a time or two.) They literally make my mouth water, and as long as they are serving tacos at Syd's, every few months, I will make the 90-mile round-trip to get some. Last week, we picked up 22 to go. Yes, they are that good.
Pizza - If you live in central or southern Illinois and you don't like Monical's Pizza, well, you need to move on somewhere else. Monical's Pizza is above-all the best pizza around, and the restaurant in Robinson cannot be beat. A couple other Monical's are close in quality, but Robinson remains my favorite. They also carry Pepsi products, which is a plus. I love going down to Monical's on a wintry night with friends and sitting around the table stuffing our bellies. When my aunt and cousins from Michigan come down, we have to make the trip to Monical's, they love it too!
Fried Catfish - Five years ago I would have told you that Earl's in West Union was the best fried catfish (that was the only place I would eat it), but I have since seen the light. A couple years ago on one of our excursions to Southern Illinois, we stumbled upon the E-town River Restaurant in Elizabethtown, IL. There is no match to that fried catfish, or at least none that I have found. It is also mouth-watering and worth the long trek south. In a few weeks, we hope to be making that catfish run. It has been far too long. Yes, I think I'm starting to salivate.
Burgers - How can I live five miles from Moonshine, Illinois, and not peg them with the best hamburger around? You're right, I can't. Even though it is nearly impossible to enjoy one of those plump, juicy burgers these days because of that little secret getting out, they are still the best burgers around. It's a combination of atmosphere and company that make them special. I like them to go because the grease from the burger soaks into the bun. Sounds gross, I know, but it's sooo good.
Some Favorite Has-Been's
Hen House - I would be remiss if I didn't mention the Hen House. The Hen House was located on the north side of the overpass north of Martinsville. As a child, it did not matter what I ate at the Hen House, it was the best. I remember their slightly toasted buttery buns on juicy, thick hamburgers, and I also remember very vividly their thick french toast. Oh, yeah, they had a great little gift shop too. I have lots of good memories hanging out there after Bluestreak ball games. (How I wish we had a place like that in town now.)
The Feed Bag - I may not be able to recall anything in particular that I loved to eat at the Feed Bag in Mazon, Illinois, I probably remember it most because of good memories. Mazon is where my parents met and where my grandparents lived until they retired and moved to south Texas. I made many trips to the big city of Mazon, which included stops at the Feed Bag. Mazon is a very small town, the Feed Bag was the place to be. And what a great name, huh?
The Tastee Freeze - Growing up, the place to go locally for ice cream was The Tastee Freeze in Casey. (We also called it Bongo Bob's Burger Barn.) Much like Dairy Queen, they served food, and their french fries were the best before McDonald's fries were so popular. I love chocolate ice cream and Bongo Bob's had some good chocolate ice cream. Ahhh...
I know there are probably many good joints I'm forgetting. I was thinking about places that weren't necessarily the best, but popular during my childhood. I may have to save that for another day. I'm getting pretty hungry, and hey, it's Friday :)
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Stable instability
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Hebrews 13:8 (NLT)
Lately I was thinking about phone numbers that have been stored away in my memory for many years. Quickly I was able to recite about a dozen phone numbers from my childhood, such as the town grocery store, the library, the schools, my best friends' parent's houses, my family phone numbers, etc. It occurred to me that almost ALL of those numbers are still in existence. I know if I want to call my 'twin sister' Susan's mom and dad at this very moment, I could dial the same number I dialed 25 years ago, and they would answer. My parent's, my aunt and uncle, my grandma's, my in-law's numbers, they're all still the same.
We live in a time where a lot of people have gotten rid of their land line phones and now have only the cell phone to save money. I get that, I do. That is not the point of my post. My point is that there was stability. As a child, I knew what phone number to call to reach my mom and a dozen other people. I wasn't ever worried or anxious about trying to remember which phone number worked and which didn't. In fact, back in the day, we didn't even have to dial all seven or ten numbers, we could just dial (on a brightly-colored rotary phone, of course) the last four digits as long as we were calling local. That seems so bizarre now.
Right now our country is having a power struggle over money, budgets, health care, and everything under the sun. I'm not even sure I understand what is really going on with all of that. But the one thing it has reminded me of is that I should never put my trust in the world, the government or other people. No matter how old we are, we are children of God. Our security should be found in Him first.
As children, we are so dependent upon our parents. My kids expect Jay or I to be home every night. When Jay is working nights, they never have to wonder if I will be home. They never have to worry about who is moving in or out of our house, whether we're moving, what our new address will be (and for how long) or what phone number to call. We do our best to provide some level of stability in our children's lives.
In a world full of instability and constant change, there is nothing better to instill in the mind/heart of a child (whatever the age) than the unconditional love of Jesus Christ. It is the same yesterday, today, and forever. His phone number will never change. His address will remain the same. You can count on that.
Lately I was thinking about phone numbers that have been stored away in my memory for many years. Quickly I was able to recite about a dozen phone numbers from my childhood, such as the town grocery store, the library, the schools, my best friends' parent's houses, my family phone numbers, etc. It occurred to me that almost ALL of those numbers are still in existence. I know if I want to call my 'twin sister' Susan's mom and dad at this very moment, I could dial the same number I dialed 25 years ago, and they would answer. My parent's, my aunt and uncle, my grandma's, my in-law's numbers, they're all still the same.
We live in a time where a lot of people have gotten rid of their land line phones and now have only the cell phone to save money. I get that, I do. That is not the point of my post. My point is that there was stability. As a child, I knew what phone number to call to reach my mom and a dozen other people. I wasn't ever worried or anxious about trying to remember which phone number worked and which didn't. In fact, back in the day, we didn't even have to dial all seven or ten numbers, we could just dial (on a brightly-colored rotary phone, of course) the last four digits as long as we were calling local. That seems so bizarre now.
Right now our country is having a power struggle over money, budgets, health care, and everything under the sun. I'm not even sure I understand what is really going on with all of that. But the one thing it has reminded me of is that I should never put my trust in the world, the government or other people. No matter how old we are, we are children of God. Our security should be found in Him first.
In a world full of instability and constant change, there is nothing better to instill in the mind/heart of a child (whatever the age) than the unconditional love of Jesus Christ. It is the same yesterday, today, and forever. His phone number will never change. His address will remain the same. You can count on that.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Need help!
Hi, my name is Sarah and I'm addicted to knitting. Lord, give me strength, all I want to do is knit. The problem is I also need to do housework and prepare meals and sleep and exercise and lots of other things that don't include knitting.
My other problem is that my hands are kind of hurting...ouch. I can't have that. So I'm hoping it's just getting them in shape to be better than ever...
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| "Dumb Donald" |
Lane was begging me for a hat. I started and almost finished his hat twice...I had it almost done at the football game on Saturday night and then the junior high team tied the game and we went into overtime...I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing, but kept knitting (another plus of the knitting is I can't scream and yell and throw my arms up). Eventually, I did put the knitting down because I had to stand to watch us score and WIN, but I screwed up the top of the hat.
So on that Sunday I pulled it all out and started over. I again screwed up the top because I am impatient (and possibly ignorant to the idea of a PATTERN), I unraveled my progress that night and started over again. As they say, the third time is a charm and I was not starting over on this hat again. I'm not sure the yarn could take a fourth knit.
I followed a pattern this time and it worked out. If it hadn't, I was going to have to move on because I am finding all kinds of free patterns on Pinterest...which I vowed almost a year ago to never peruse again. (Note: our annual church bazaar is coming up the first Friday of November. Think knitted items available.)
Somehow I've got to find some sort of balance to be able to include time for knitting without going overboard and neglecting everything and everyone else around me. I'm going to have to use some self discipline...something I'm not very good at. The past couple of weeks, I have had a pain in my neck (ha) and went to the chiropractor. He says the constant looking down (obsessive-knitting) is causing strain on my neck. Must. Control. Myself.
As Jay said the other night when I discovered I had to start over again, "You just need to stop and walk away." Yes, put the needles down and walk away...maybe I should try that.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Fishbowl Monday
It was 5:56 a.m. on a Monday morning (this Monday morning) and Sweet Josie was upset that no one was awake yet. (Jay has two days off before he starts a turnaround at work so he was sleeping in.) Josie had tried to jump up on our headboard to play in the metal mini-blinds, but I threw her off the bed. Within minutes, we heard a very loud noise and what sounded like something bouncing down the stairs.
I sat straight up in bed and said, "THE FISH!" and ran to the stairwell. Sure enough, there was a bright orange fish on its side midway down the steps. Jay says, "The fish is dead." I touch it and it flips over...I grab the bowl which, amazingly enough, was still in tact and at the very bottom of the stairs. I slide the fish in the bowl and hand it off to Jay. Lane appeared at the top of the stairs and stood in shock.
Josie was hiding behind the recliner and appeared also in shock. The stairs are carpeted and they were soaked. The wall was streaked with water. There were even drops of water at the base of the stairs on the piano. Madolyn, who now has her bedroom in the basement directly under the stairwell, didn't even stir.
Many comments have been made that the fish bowl on the half wall may not be a good idea, but it just seemed like the best location for the fish...so we don't forget to feed him and we can actually enjoy him a little bit. Josie even enjoyed the fish and the endless supply of fishy water. It was going pretty well until early this morning.
We are guessing that Josie, mad after being tossed from our bed in an attempt to wake us up, went to get a drink from her fish bowl (or something) and started to fall, grabbing the edge of the fish bowl for support and pulling it over on top of her. We don't think she could have deliberately pulled the bowl off by herself as the bowl is very heavy...but who knows. She was also very wet so the water had to have come down on top of her. Either way, she is a naughty kitty today.
When Madolyn finally surfaced, she walked up the stairs and said, "Why is the carpet all wet?" (Would've been funny if she had put "Todd" on the end of that.) We had to laugh and couldn't help but say, "I don't know, Margo." (Christmas Vacation, favorite quote.)
Fortunately for Sherlock the fish, he survived the fall and the shock. His bowl is clean and fresh this morning too. (That's one way to get the bowl cleaned.) Jay starts a turnaround at work on Wednesday and will be setting his alarm for 4:30 a.m. for the next six weeks or so. Hopefully, that will keep Sweet Josie happy and the rest of us asleep until our alarms go off. Happy Monday morning!
I sat straight up in bed and said, "THE FISH!" and ran to the stairwell. Sure enough, there was a bright orange fish on its side midway down the steps. Jay says, "The fish is dead." I touch it and it flips over...I grab the bowl which, amazingly enough, was still in tact and at the very bottom of the stairs. I slide the fish in the bowl and hand it off to Jay. Lane appeared at the top of the stairs and stood in shock.
Josie was hiding behind the recliner and appeared also in shock. The stairs are carpeted and they were soaked. The wall was streaked with water. There were even drops of water at the base of the stairs on the piano. Madolyn, who now has her bedroom in the basement directly under the stairwell, didn't even stir.
Many comments have been made that the fish bowl on the half wall may not be a good idea, but it just seemed like the best location for the fish...so we don't forget to feed him and we can actually enjoy him a little bit. Josie even enjoyed the fish and the endless supply of fishy water. It was going pretty well until early this morning.
We are guessing that Josie, mad after being tossed from our bed in an attempt to wake us up, went to get a drink from her fish bowl (or something) and started to fall, grabbing the edge of the fish bowl for support and pulling it over on top of her. We don't think she could have deliberately pulled the bowl off by herself as the bowl is very heavy...but who knows. She was also very wet so the water had to have come down on top of her. Either way, she is a naughty kitty today.
When Madolyn finally surfaced, she walked up the stairs and said, "Why is the carpet all wet?" (Would've been funny if she had put "Todd" on the end of that.) We had to laugh and couldn't help but say, "I don't know, Margo." (Christmas Vacation, favorite quote.)
Fortunately for Sherlock the fish, he survived the fall and the shock. His bowl is clean and fresh this morning too. (That's one way to get the bowl cleaned.) Jay starts a turnaround at work on Wednesday and will be setting his alarm for 4:30 a.m. for the next six weeks or so. Hopefully, that will keep Sweet Josie happy and the rest of us asleep until our alarms go off. Happy Monday morning!
Friday, September 27, 2013
God's Promises
And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making
between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all
generations to come: I have set my
rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and
the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the
rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you
and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a
flood to destroy all life. Whenever the
rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting
covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.” So God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the
covenant I have established between me and all life on the earth.” Genesis 9:12-17 (NIV)
Funny thing, last week and weekend nearly wiped me out. I know it was a busy time for many with a lot going on, but between Grandma passing away, my obsession with knitting, a couple late nights and Jay going back on shift work (nights), I had a lot of trouble sleeping. I was exhausted by Sunday morning and had no intention of going to church.
Saturday night Madolyn said her friend needed a ride to church, could we take her. Absolutely. But my plan was to take the kids to church and come home. I would just be lazy all morning. There were a couple events we needed to attend Sunday afternoon, so my only hope of a little downtime was Sunday morning.
I'm the type of person who never sleeps late, I'm usually up with the sun, but Sunday morning I was cozy and warm in my bed when my cell phone started buzzing. I normally don't take my phone to bed with me except when Jay works nights...so there it was on vibrate. I ignored it and then decided I better check out who was calling at 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning. It was a church member needing me to teach her class because she was taking her husband to the AmbuCare (like an ER) and the other teacher (her mother) was at the hospital with her very sick husband (her father). How could I say no to teaching her class for her because I was tired?
So Plan B was to teach the class and come home after Sunday School. I informed the kids of this plan and off we went to get Mad's friend for church. Mad's friend's half-sister also wanted to come so she piled in and we headed to church.
The teacher that called me told me what bible story the class was supposed to learn about, but I wouldn't have a book. I was in luck, it was a child favorite, Noah's Ark. I could handle this one. I simply opened my bible to Genesis 6 and read the story, pausing to make comments, etc. The class is a good one (my son and niece are in it...ha) and they offered insight and we had a good lesson. I had this pit in my stomach and knew that I needed to stay for church.
I stayed for church, got home and put together something for lunch and we ALL set down at the table to eat. It was the first time in about a month that we had sat down at the table and ate together. We usually try to do this a few times a week, but right now our schedule and my stomach don't allow it. (Call me selfish, I know.)
All I wanted to do was take a nap, but that didn't happen until much later in the evening. The day worked out. (We did skip one commitment though.) And the very next day on my evening walk, I saw the most beautiful rainbow in the sky and it brought tears to my eyes because just the day before I was telling the kids in the Sunday School class about the significance of a rainbow and it reminding us of God's promises.
I had convinced myself that I didn't need to go to church on Sunday morning because I was too tired. Seeing that rainbow reminded me that even when I am at my weakest, God's promises never fail. He will provide what we need to carry on, even when we are weak.
I'm certainly not glad my fellow church member was having a really rough morning with all the things going on with her family, but I am thankful that God gave her the nudge to call me and get my lazy self out of bed. I survived Sunday and even got to see a rainbow on Monday. And honestly, I probably wouldn't have felt such peace upon seeing that rainbow if I hadn't taught that Sunday School class.
Today I am thankful for God's promises.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Cleaning out the clutter
Don’t keep looking at my sins. Remove the stain of my guilt. Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me. Do not banish me from your presence, and
don’t take your Holy Spirit from me.
Psalm 51:9-11 (NLT)
Earlier this summer when Jay was working hard on the back deck project, he heard a strange noise coming from the dryer vent. Upon investigation, he found a bird's nest in there. Thank the Lord it was found before causing a fire.
Prior to this discovery, the kids and I had been hearing a bird making all kinds of racket whenever we would be in the kitchen. We would even go out and investigate and find nothing. We assumed she had a nest in one of the porch lights, but Mama Bird had found an even better spot in the vent, where she was warm and protected. I had noticed that my dryer was taking extra long to dry things and suddenly we knew why.
Jay got a broom handle or stick or something and broke the nest up and was able to get most of it out on the sidewalk. The first time we turned the dryer on after the cleaning, it made all kinds of noise in there with the little bits and pieces flying around.
For a while I thought there was something wrong with my dryer, and it would be time for a new one. I was almost ready to toss it out the back door. I'm so glad I didn't give up on it, all it is needed was a little cleaning. It is now back in proper working order again, drying load after load of laundry.
Cleaning out the clutter applies to a lot of areas in our life. If we let junk build up inside of us, eventually we'll stop functioning properly. That junk can cause spiritual, emotional or physical problems. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens. Is it time for you to clean out the clutter?
Your righteousness, God, reaches to the heavens, you who
have done great things. Who is like you,
God? Though you have made me see
troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of
the earth you will again bring me up.
You will increase my honor and comfort me once more. Psalm 71:19-21
(NIV)
Prior to this discovery, the kids and I had been hearing a bird making all kinds of racket whenever we would be in the kitchen. We would even go out and investigate and find nothing. We assumed she had a nest in one of the porch lights, but Mama Bird had found an even better spot in the vent, where she was warm and protected. I had noticed that my dryer was taking extra long to dry things and suddenly we knew why.
Jay got a broom handle or stick or something and broke the nest up and was able to get most of it out on the sidewalk. The first time we turned the dryer on after the cleaning, it made all kinds of noise in there with the little bits and pieces flying around.
 |
| Remnants of a nest |
Cleaning out the clutter applies to a lot of areas in our life. If we let junk build up inside of us, eventually we'll stop functioning properly. That junk can cause spiritual, emotional or physical problems. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens. Is it time for you to clean out the clutter?
Friday, September 20, 2013
Blessed
What can I say except that I have been blessed. I have been very fortunate to have had one very special lady for the thirty-eight years of my life until five days ago. I was even more fortunate to have had my Grandpa K until I was in my early twenties and my Grandpa & Grandma Lynch until my early thirties. There are people (many of whom I've talked to this week) who either never knew a grandparent or two or four, or only had them for a short time. I know I have been blessed.
Having said that, it is still going to be very strange to not have Grandma Great around. When I was debating whether to take the job here at the courthouse, one of the factors I considered was being close to the nursing home. On a moment's notice, in most scenarios, I could be at the nursing home within minutes if needed. I think that only occurred once, but I was able to go and go quickly.
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| The Madolyn's |
Almost every day of the workweek, I would spend half of my lunch hour at the nursing home...visiting, fixing her hair, washing her glasses, straightening pictures, retrieving her shopping list, filling the candy jar, stocking her supplies, delivering cheese and cherry tomatoes, gathering laundry, hanging laundry, hearing the latest nursing home gossip, getting her up to date on Martinsville news, delivering newspapers, calming nerves, etc.
My lunch hours will be very weird.
I remember when she first went into the nursing home how hard it was not to be able to go to her house and just visit. On many Sunday evenings when Jay would go to work, the kids and I would head to Grandma's house to make the evening go faster. On the way home from town on slow summer days, my car knew the way to her house for a little visit and maybe something good to eat. During farm season, impromptu lunches were common. The coffee was on every day at 3:00 p.m. (for my dad). If my kids didn't want to go run errands, I could leave them at Grandma Great's for a while. She loved that.
Eventually, it got easier to drive on past her lane. After a while, my car didn't want to pull me down the Angling Road on my way home from town. But I could still visit her. My kids could still hang out with her at the nursing home during the 4-H fair or if I was at a doctor's appointment or running to Wal-Mart. She was still nearby.
And now she is gone.
In retrospect, I'm glad that this has gone in phases. It may have been too much to handle all at once. And as I've said repeatedly this week, I'm fine as long as I don't talk about it.
But we all know that Grandma and I like to talk.
In time, I will get used to the boring lunch hours. One thing is for sure, I have been blessed.
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